My Son The Gorgon

I decided to steal my friend Amy's idea of having a blog about her baby (see the Stelladot link that I've thoughtfully provided in the link list on the right) as it seems like a great way to keep people up to date on how this crazy new life of ours is going. I can sum up that craziness by saying I mistakenly bought shampoo with conditioner thinking I was just buying shampoo and, let me tell you, those extra 45 seconds I save every morning not doing conditioner separately--it makes all the difference, my friends.



So to jump right into the overshare: Donovan decided last week that he was done with the breastfeeding. Before you judge my 3 1/2 month old son too harshly, understand that his old mother is has not proven to be the Hoover Dam of Breastmilk that she thought she would be. Apparently, low milk production is a side effect of high blood pressure (note to self: take high blood pressure pills before you go to bed). Add to that the fact that all the feedings he's getting at day care are bottle based and you can understand why he might decide to forgo. What got me, however, was the face he would make anytime I'd try to breastfeed him. Mike and I call it "The Face of Abject Horror" and it reminds me of this:

The good news is that, all of the sudden, he's decided breastfeeding is not fatal. I get the feeling he's just doing it to be polite, but that's better than Abject Horror.



Last week, Mike and I went out to a tapas bar for our anniversary and left the boy with the Pittsburgh grandparents. I don't know what magic fairydust they mixed with his Enfamil but the fussy baby we left on their doorstep was'nt there when we went to get him. In his place was a happy, smiling baby who was babbling away to his grandmother, kicking at all the plush bugs dangling above his playmat. He has'nt stopped babbling since--I like it.