Monday, July 23, 2007

My little tri-athlete

In the spririt of trying to post every day I hereby offer you this nothingness. It’s late and I have only just managed to get everything done. Today was a work day and once the Spud is picked up from his childminder it’s already too late to be making his tea meaning that he’s late eating it, late for his bath, late for his bed-time boob and late for bed.

You might think that this would make for a sleepy baby but in the hinterland that is a baby’s head, once one has stayed up past one’s bedtime, one No Longer Needs To Sleep At All thanks Mum and the world becomes one big, manic sports field. Starting with the Boob Olympics. Firstly, there is the fastest latch time followed by a trick dismount. This means that my dear little boy launches onto a boob so quickly that it may not be fully, er, out, at the time or, perhaps I may not be quite lying down (oh yes, we do this lying down… how else would I get my beauty rest?) and he may leap from the bed like a trout after a fly. After he’s done, he sometimes tries to keep latched on while performing a double-somersault and reaching for the alarm clock, or perhaps the telephone. You know, whatever’s to hand. I, for my part, have to lie there as though nothing is happening while what used to be a wobbly, but fairly attached part of my anatomy goes walkabout in a baby’s mouth.

Next in the Boob Olympics is the ‘fastest draw in the west’ section where he tries to drag his dinner of out my toes and I try not to whimper while un-picking my fingernails from the palms of my hands. This is sometimes accompanied by the ‘largest mouthful’ section where things start to feel a little odd and I look down to find him with his cheeks bulging and half of one of my prodigious mammaries sucked into his surprised little face.

Once he’s settled down to a regular feed, the rest of his body starts entering the competition. His legs bicycle, his arms flap and if I’m not wearing the breast-feeding necklace with bells on it (I kid you not) I’m about to get picked apart. The best bet is to get him into his sleeping bag first so that only his arms are a menace.

Eventually we give up and I put him in his cot where we have the lie-down-stand-up competition followed by the ‘who can scream the loudest’ finale. Which I usually win.


darth sardonic said...

i laughed like crazy. wait till he grows teeth! my wife used to say to my oldest while he would participate in the "boob olympics" that he better quit funnin', cause daddy wanted his boobs back, lol.

Orhan Kahn said...

..late for his bed-time boob.

Give him a couple of years and I'm sure that will change.. it never too late for bed-time boob, not in my house ;)

Awesome post, really. I made the above comment before even finishing the first paragraph. You have a very unique way of taking something so mundane as puting a breast in a childs mouth and turning it into a theartrical event.

I will try to keep up with your daily posts (since I actually enjoy your fluid writing) though forgive me if I don't.

.. breast-feeding necklace with bells on it..

Wait, what?!

Picture of this necklace or it never happened ;)

Samantha said...

Oh, yes - fond memories - truly... overly tired child-of-perpetual-motion. Been there too - 3 times. For some reason, the other adult in my household (namely, my DH) would not quite understand my shear panic at the thought of any of my offspring NOT getting well enough rested at nap time nor to bed on time - he did not have to endure the thrashing war that would ensue, which you have described brilliantly!

jenny said...

I will happily pass on my gold medal from the boob olympics to you!! You need it! LOL You had me laughing from the start! Everything you describe has happened to me times 3! My only disappointment was when Youngest decided she'd had enough of me before she turned a year old.

Suki said...

Sparx, you have the best and funniest way of describing things! Love ya, gal! :)

alyal7 said... brought back some memories! frustratingly wonderful and amazingly happy! believe it or not, you *will* miss it one day. i enjoyed your writing and will be reading often.

best of luck,

melvin said...

I came here by accident today... clicked the wrong bookmark in my search for finding my next university. I have been reading for a couple months now. When I first read the post, it seemed so frustrating, and... a little - bad. It occurred to me when I read the posts from the other mothers about the "thrashing war" that this feeling is something that I truly can't understand or relate to, yet. I hope to one day have children. I have to imagine it would be the most difficult thing to ever do - especially when the kid grows up. I get nervous letting my cats out. Anyway, thank you for not holding back on your frustration while writing. This will be a true and delightful record for the future.

Anonymous said...

I am with you on sneaking in a nap while filling the tank . . . though I dozed off the other day and woke-up to a kick in the stomach and a bony finger shoved up my nose. She was mad because she too had dozed off, letting the nip fall from her mouth. She was so frantic to get it back in she latched to the underside of my boob . . . the little vacuum gave me a hicky!

Hysterical, and so true, as always! Thanks for the laugh!

BOSSY said...

Bossy remembers Over-Tired. She remembers staring her infant down and maniacally saying things like, "That dizzy feeling? Accompanied by the feeling that you are going to jump out of your skin and grow a new face? That's called T-I-R-E-D. Sleep!"

Lisa said...

Oh my word! This is exactly what is happening with me right now. I also stumbled on your blog by accident yesterday and love it. This is my world right now. The gymnastics with the breastfeeding, the baby trying to crawl with something in his hands! My spud is 8 months old and if he is like your 10 month old already then I'm in trouble! Thanks so much for your hilarious commentary. We mothers across the pond also appreciate it!

Lisa from USA

Lindystar the HOR blogger said...

My goodness you always mangage to top yourself - and all out of a post that you deemed "nothingness."

And yeah I'm going to need to see a picture of this bell neclace. For really, like so when I have a little vacume of my own I'll know what to wear. (yes and becuase I want to laugh - I'm a bastard like that)


Sue said...

Horrible, isn't it? I decided that I would lie in bed next to The Bhablet in his cot and do nothing in the dark. Not even lay him down when he pulled himself up.

This is slow but eventually it's getting through to him that bedtime is no longer the best time to bait me. Because I may just turn my back and fall asleep while he howls on to no purpose.

Sparx said...

Darth - mmm... and he doesn't always spare me the teeth either...

OK and Lindy - pic posted!

Samantha, Jenny, Alyal7, DWTHBO, Lisa - I think we should compile all the stories into The Breastfeeding Almanac so you can turn to page 12 and see 'aha, my baby is 12 weeks old. He will now start punching me'.

Suki - thanks!

Melvin - you'll take it as it comes if you have kids, just as we all do...

Bossy... and did it work? Never does for me but I may not have the stare down correctly.

Sue - we need a Mummybot to do all the sleep stuff, lying them down and ignoring them while we have that extra martini!

Shonda Little said...

Does your Boob Olympics have a performance competition, like synchronized sucking (nursing on one while you pump the other) or blanket balancing, keeping the baby under wraps while you nurse him or her in public?

As a former nurser, I love this blog.