After feeling ambivalent about breastfeeding for so many months, I'm surprised to find myself worried about what will happen when Westley can't nurse for five days. Is my going on vacation going to end up meaning a permanent vacation for my breasts (at least until the much-discussed Baby #2 arrives circa 2011)? I'm actually hoping the answer is no. The me of several months ago thinks I'm crazy, and I think Rob agrees with her. Regardless, my Avent manual pump and the last of a bottle of fenugreek capsules are stashed safely in my carry-on. I know Westley will be fine at home with Rob and my parents; I'm going to try to remember this, and relax and enjoy myself. And we'll see what happens with the breastfeeding.
In the meantime, my son is going to be twenty months old! How did that happen? Who sneaked in during the night and replaced my baby with this big boy?
Mall(rug)rat
Rob and I started calling Westley "Punky" pretty early on, and it's stuck. It's sort of a nickname for a term of endearment: "Pumpkin Pie" became "Punkin Pie," which then became "Punky Pie" or, more often, just "Punky."
Naturally, with a "Punky Pie" running around, we ended up with the song "Cherry Pie" in our heads all the time. We've been singing a modified version of the chorus for most of Westley's life, but I finally got around to finishing the song yesterday. I'm not sure if this means we'll sing it more or less often, but at least we can sing it from start to finish now.
"Punky Pie"
Healthy, cozy, tasty, awesome!
He's my Punky Pie
Warm drink of milk, such a sweet lil' guy
Looks so cute, makes his mama cry
Sweet Punky Pie
Nursin' in the armchair
Nursin' on the couch
Nursin' pillows come
With every seat in my house
Nursin' on the left side
Nursin' on the right
Dream about breakfast
Nurse all night, yeah
Nursin' when it's cuddle time
Nursin' when he's bitchin'
Baby cries, let down
And mom's boobs are itchin'
Going to work so
She's pumpin' it full-throttle
Dial up the suction
And fill up a bottle
I know he knows
That it's the best milk
Don't cover up 'cause
It's only breastmilk
He's my Punky Pie
Warm drink of milk, such a sweet lil' guy
Looks so cute, makes his mama cry
Sweet Punky Pie, oh yeah
He's my Punky Pie
Minute-time on the breast
Ten each side
Boy chows down
'Til the well runs dry
Sweet Punky Pie
Nursin' on the bus
Nurse while writing checks
Lyin' on your side
Folks say don't do it
At parks or stores
But my son's like, "Her milkshake
Is better than yours."
I know he knows
That it's the best milk
Don't cover up 'cause
It's only breastmilk
He's my Punky Pie
Warm drink of milk, such a sweet lil' guy
Looks so cute, makes his mama cry
Sweet Punky Pie, oh yeah
He's my Punky Pie
Minute-time on the breast
Ten each side
Boy chows down
'Til the well runs dry
Sweet Punky Pie
Nursin'! All night long,
Nursin'!
Pass the nipple cream!
Nursin' on the sofa
Nursin' on the floor
Nursin' so long
That my nipples got sore
Dad got a bottle
Even up the score
He said, "You ain't gonna nurse
On your Mama no more"
He's my Punky Pie
Warm drink of milk, such a sweet lil' guy
Looks so cute, makes his mama cry
Sweet Punky Pie, oh yeah
He's my Punky Pie
Minute-time on the breast
Ten each side
Boy chows down
'Til the well runs dry
Sweet Punky Pie
Sweet Punky Pie
Nurse him!
* * *
That's all, bloggy-folks! I'll be living off-the-Internet-grid until Tuesday. I'm hoping to come back more rested and less weirdly tanned. Truly. My nose and cheeks, my forearms up to about a three-quarter sleeve length (you know, for example), the tops of my feet are brown; the rest of me is glow-in-the-dark. I'm not a believer in tanning (bad for your skin, bad for your tattoos), but this is ridiculous.
