It’s the end of an era in the Oopsiemumma household. My second and youngest child, Miss Princess, has been finally weaned from her total obsession with my milky boobs.
If extended breastfeeding or boobs in general FREAK you out then you have my permission to go and check out someone else’s blog today. But I have a story and it must be told.
I’ve been very lucky to never have an issue with breastfeeding, I had a few little hiccups at the beginning with both kiddies but once they got the hang of it everything went quite smoothly.
Master Sporty is what you would call….stubborn…very very stubborn.
So it was no great surprise that when he bit me while feeding at 9 months old and I told him “No” three times getting a little louder with each “No” he decided to hate me for it and wouldn’t let me hold him or feed him booby milk.
At some ungodly hour on the morning of day five I tried to feed him once more. But he was adamant that he would never touch my boob again (I say my boob because I’m quite sure he will touch other boobs again!) and I was resigned to our trip to hospital the next morning as he was well on his way to dehydration and too stubborn to drink much water or eat much food.
In the wee hours of the morning I shoved a bottle in his mouth for the upteenth time and he FINALLY caved in and took it and was bottle fed for the next three months.
Miss Princess on the other hand is a breastfeeding monster. At the age of 2 years and 10 months I’ve just managed to wean her but I’m absolutely certain that if I didn’t instigate it she definitely wouldn’t.
It probably didn’t help that for the last 12 months I haven’t allowed her to feed during the day, only for her daytime nap and bedtime…so I created one heck of a sleep association for the little one. An association that she told me in no uncertain terms that she would never ever give up.
It did make me laugh when we were saying our little nighttime prayer which goes something like this:
“Dear God, thank-you for this day
Thank-you for our fun and play
Thank-you for Mummy and Daddy, Ethan and Chloe”
And Miss Princess finished off with “Thank-you for booby!”
See what I was up against here?
I never thought I’d breastfeed past 12 months of age. Then her first birthday came and went and we were heading to the age of two. The World Health Organisation was rooting for me to reach two so I ended up being ok with that.
Then her second birthday came and went and we were heading to the age of three. I read somewhere that Jesus was breastfed to the age of three and thought well what’s good enough for him is good enough for Miss Princess.
Then I looked at my poor boobs, and getting to the age of three suddenly seemed like it would end up costing me a $10,000 boob job. Best to wean now said Mr Fix-It.
Going cold turkey wasn’t going to work with Miss Princess (I tried it), telling her she was too old didn’t work, saying I was too sick didn’t work, trying to convince her the milk had run out didn’t work – this child is not stupid!
What did work, was a plan deployed with military like precision.
Yesterday Mr Fix-It called the kiddies into their respective rooms to be measured on their height charts, certain they had grown. Unfortunately for Master Sporty he had not (he was pretty annoyed about that too) but Miss Princess had grown significantly.
Then came all the warnings to Miss Princess that once you grow that much that booby milk starts to taste yucky. She eyed us suspiciously and was in the non-believing camp.
Then came a little trick my mum used to wean my siblings from bottle feeding. I put a little dab of Sally Hansen “No biters” nail polish on my boob last night and voila. “Mummy that tastes yucky!”
Followed by my “Oh does it? That must mean you’ve grown so much that you don’t need mummy’s milk anymore.”
Followed by a very very sad face that almost made me crumble.
But she accepted it for what it was, (that polish truly does taste AWFUL) and my last little bubba has been successfully weaned.
I say my last bubba with absolute certainty because during my pregnancy and her birth my uterus tried to kill me. But that’s another story for another day….maybe.
Do you have any weaning tips that worked for you?