Weaning kids - There is a wrong way

One of the most glorious sounds in the world is the piercing cry of a newborn baby. Everyone in the room sighs and delights. It never gets old, you know, witnessing a miracle. And then another magnificent sound is the silence. After the baby has been cleaned up, swaddled, and fed, they are just a little bundle of shhhhhhh-ness.

It is truly magical.

But as time goes on, the sound of crying goes from being a glorious gift to a sleep sucking siren from hell as sleep deprived parents plod around in the middle of the night feeding and comforting their little lumps that prove they were once alert and energetic enough to have sex.

Ugh. I would mumble to myself, it’s time to make the donuts, as I woke to the cries of my children, both that were breastfeed for quite some time. I did this because I could, because I had enough milk to feed triplets, because I felt it was easier than making bottles and because I’m a cheap motherfucker.

To nurse or not to nurse was never a question for me once my “donuts” started producing more milk than a dairy farm. But when to stop? Ah, that was the question I asked myself from the moment I first had a human hooked on my boob. There was never a doubt that I would eventually stop, but I didn’t anticipate it to be so damn hard. It wasn’t difficult because I wanted to keep going. Hells NO. I wanted to be done. “One and done” was my thought. One year of no fun-bag fun was quite enough for their daddy as well. My husband wanted his toys back. But I don’t begrudge of judge anyone who lactates longer. I really don’t.

Whatever works for you and your kid is the good stuff, unless of course your kindergartner can’t make it through the school day without suckling on your tit. Then I judge you ‘cause that’s just mean and wrong and in our society not necessary. Go to the fucking Piggly Wiggly and get the kid some 2% for the love of freak! And I judge this woman too. This hilarious goof of a woman AND her husband, for taking the weaning form worry some to weird shit only lame wads who plan to spend thousands of dollars on future psychotherapy sessions for their children. Here is a true, holy boobsicles, bat-shit, cra-crazy weaning technique I read on an online forum for parents:

I decided to follow my sister’s lead and use the Japanese method of weaning. I didn’t think it would work, but it did! It might sound a little unusual, but here it is:.

You draw faces on your breasts – eyes and a mouth (I used waterproof liquid eyeliner)

Then you, your family and your child sit down and have a conversation about weaning – my husband and I sat down with our son and told him what a great experience breast feeding was, how it made him strong and healthy and how much I enjoyed it, but now it’s time to say good bye to nursing.

Then you show him the faces and say ‘ good-bye breasts, good-bye nursing’
Then when your child asks to nurse you show them the faces and remind them how you said good-bye. The first morning was hard – about 2hrs of crying, but after that no more tears. He would still ask to nurse weeks later and again I’d remind him that we’d say good-bye and show him my breasts. BTW – the make up lasted about a week.

I think seeing the faces helps them let go of the idea of nursing.


Want to know what noise I made when I read it? Where do I even begin to shred this insanity to ribbons and how do I do it when I cannot stop laughing. I laughed until I cried and my cries pierced the peaceful quiet of the evening until I silenced them with a big glass of – you got it- wine. And I giggled because people like this will keep me employed through my golden years, despite the advances in medicine and mental illness. I mean, you just can’t use a pill to treat the kind of fuckedupness that is likely to result from having your tits talk to your kids.

There is no wrong or right way to wean; unless you do it wrong, and this draw on your boobs and make them talk to your kid is, in my opinion, just as wrong as this:

I felt it was right to share it with you. You know, since the world didn’t end today, I thought we could start the day with a good laugh that comes in the form of good advice. And in the spirit of Feckless Friday, I don’t give a fuck who doesn’t agree with me.

And P.S. buy my book AND “like” and share this post on Facebook and Twitter. SEE? FECKLESS AS FUCK!

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