Battle of the Boobs

There is a war going on in our household and it is waged mostly at night on the battleground that used to be my gorgeous, perky breasts, but is now a flattened landscape with pulls, chews, and scratches.  Virginie, my wee little person, who can talk and asks to go potty (though is not fully trained, of course.  I know what that does to babies doing it too early, anal retention.  Her father trained before 2 years.  No more to say.), refuses to give up the boobs.  She is still nursing is what I am so crudely trying to say.  I swore to myself and anyone who would listen that she would be off by the time she was 12 months old, even earlier than I'd weaned her sister.  But Lily moved on on her own, fascinated by purees and those tiny Cheerios she could pinch between her little fingers.

There has been a battle of wills raging here and our horns are locked.  She is an Aries/Taurus and I am a Capricorn.  We go head to head on this nearly every night which has involved screams at top pitch, head shaking, shouting, pinching, biting, and finally everyone in tears.  I have moved her for the past three nights from her shared room with Lily, to the guestroom where she can shout it out loud until her little voice gives out and that is often two to three hours from when we began.  Her favorite time of night seems to be 2-2:30 am.  I hate it.  I am exhausted.  But I have hunkered down and will meet her there every night until she gives them up.

In my mind's eye is that scene in Bernardo Bertolucci's genius film, The Last Emperor, when a nearly pre-teen Puyi, the last emperor of China, son of Heaven, removes the blouse of his mother/wet nurse and begins to suckle.  I have terrifying visions of a yammering three year old Virginie talking about something to some other children, or worse yet, some adult, and then turning to me and saying,"I am ready for my boo boo's," our current term of endearment.  Like much else that goes on over here, I am doing this alone.  My sister reminds me that plenty of single mothers found a way to get their kids off the teet, so I should figure it out my damned self, thank you very much, hence the early morning showdowns between Virginie and me.

I am tempted to try the aloe on the nipples.  While it is non-toxic, I hear it just tastes awful to the babes and that Virginie will be so turned off by me that she will roll over, never to return to suckling again.  I hate to consider it, but I have been losing sleep, a whole lot of sleep, and I just don't think Virginie NEEDS it anymore.  I think she wants it and that it brings her some comfort, but it is no longer necessary.  She has a pacifier, her nose and ear and now toe paper.  What more can she do with my poor shrunken mammaries?

I know this is not over and it will not be until she is off and as happy about that as I will be, but I must see this through.  It does make me feel good that this little one has such incredible willpower, that she can handle her own and takes care of business, but I fear our not being on the same team.  She is really a force to be reckoned with and my soon-to-be 41 year old self is not sure she can handle these little skirmishes.  I intend to win this war, but Virginie is kicking my ass in the hand-to-hand street fight.  Stay tuned.

(c)  Copyright 2010.  City Mom in the Jungle.