It's August. That's going to be my excuse for why I still haven't gotten my suitcases put away. Or cleaned my floors. Or followed up on a single business card from BlogHer. But you don't really care about that, do you?
Instead, let's talk about boobs. Specifically, my boobs. I'm ready to reclaim them. It's been nearly 17 months since I gave birth to my little, beautiful baby and started nursing him. It's been crazy and painful and horrible and wonderful. But now he's a big, beautiful boy, and his mother is desperate for a full night's sleep. I know it's been a while since I've complained about sleep, but if you want to catch up, read this, this and this.
I think I've finally hit that point that all the mothers I knew told me I would: I'm ready to have my body back.
We're down to nursing only once in the wee hours of the morning, and that's just because I'm too lazy to actually get up and start my day at 5:00 a.m. Letting the boy have the ol' boob affords me another two hours of sleep. Even still, it's gotten to be too much.
Wednesday night, the little guy has to stay over at my mom's house (the first night I'll have every spent away from him) because I have to go out of town to throw an awesome baby shower; expect cool pictures next week. Hey, you might even get a shot of my soon-to-be Dolly Parton-esque cleavage as my milk tries to figure out that it needs to dry up. I know you're excited about that!