Rejected the boob one too many times.
I am SO not sitting on a pump 5 times a day in addition to feeding him 87 times and taking care of triplets and not getting enough sleep at night because he boycotts the boobs during the day and has to therefore eat all his calories at night out of a bottle.
What a little pain in the butt. It's a good thing he's cute as hell.
So now I'm walking around smelling like cooked cabbage, and you know that ain't good, because I have the old fashioned boob remedy of frozen cabbage leaves in the bra going on. I think it is helping but mostly? It's making me hate myself. I stink. And frozen cabbage leaves on tender little boobies? Not good.
I'm a little sad, but you know I didn't like this stuff anyways. And clearly he didn't much either. So in order to be better friends in this mother/son relationship, I think it's for the best to call it a day. My triplets did fine on formula. And just look what I get to do now?
Drink coffee when I'm not allowed to sleep!
read a book instead of pumping
go to bed at a reasonable hour instead of pumping!
Let other people feed the baby!
Get his butt on a schedule!
get his butt to sleep through the night so I won't need aforementioned coffee to survive!
Get a pretty bra to roll my presumably flat, flappy boobs into in the near future!
Stop eating for 2
Eat whatever I want without worrying about the consequences to the drinker of my milk
Wear a bra without a pad for leaks
Be away from home for more than 4 hours without breastfeeding or pumping!
Wake up in the morning not all sore and full and desperately in need of a pump before anything else
Wake up in the morning and clean my face or take a shower instead of pumping
Go to bed on time instead of waiting for the pumping hour to arrive
Oh my goodness. It's like utopia. I just shudder to think what the girls are gonna look like though. Shudder. Oh the abuse. Oh the stretch marks and loss of volume. I have to say that I am a highly likely candidate for plastic surgery in the next 10 years. I am that vain. I just have to lose the 50 extra pounds I blame on my children before I can even think of such a thing.
50 lbs? Gah!