I?ve done a lot of things I never thought I?d do as a parent. Fed my kid hotdogs more often than, shall we say, occasionally" Check. Gave in when one of them wanted to wear the same dirty T-shirt three days straight" Yup. Ignored screen time limits on nightmarish days" You bet. But the weirdest has got to be the time I wore Band-Aids on my nipples.
After a rocky start to breastfeeding, I was still nursing my second son, Leo, at 22 months. I loved our cuddles, his sweet face looking up in adoration. And because I had not successfully breastfed my first son due to supply issues, I was especially grateful when feeding started to go well the second time around (thanks to a repeat prescription for Domperidone).
You could almost say it was going too well, though, because as Leo approached two, he showed no signs of losing interest in the boob. We?d walk into the house after daycare, and he?d practically tackle me. ?Noorse!? he?d yell, placing his pudgy hands on either side of my face and looking me right in the eye. If I dared not comply with my 25-pound dictator, a monumental tantrum would follow, guaranteed. Unwilling to face the endless shrieks, I?d end up with him attached to my boob, immobile on the couch for an hour. Start dinner" Forget about it. Tend to my older child" That became the iPad’s job. But I knew it was time to stop. I was starting to get impatient with his breastfeeding requests?I?d snap at him, then feel terrible. It wasn?t a mu...