Welcome to the Tales of a Kitchen Witch Blog.
This week is World Breastfeeding Week, so I thought I should write about my nursling. My big, talkative, silly nursling. We have conversations now, whilst nursing. There goes that notion of “if he can ask for it, he doesn’t need it.” Cooper tells me when he is ready for bed. When he is tired, he asks for “milkie on the floor, in mah room? Wit dah boppy?” And when I agree, he takes my hand and pulls me into his room and drags the boppy to our nursing spot.
He talks so much now. He tells me which side he likes better (the left), that milkies are sweet and make him sleepy, and he switches sides often with a murmured “Now da uffer one.”
Nursing a toddler isn’t like nursing a small, snuggly baby. It is an active sport. He marches roaring dinosaurs across the hills of my breasts, he drives cars through the valley between, and nestles small boats in the ripples of my hiked up shirt. He kicks his feet and drapes them across my arm, sometimes waggling his rosy toes in my face. He twirls my hair, pulls on my ear to play with my earring, and pretends he is going to stick his fingers in my eyes, laughing when I pull his hands away. We discuss the dinosaurs out in the big dark, the light in his closet, and negotiate which toys will follow him into his bed that night. All of this done in the quiet of his room whilst I sit on the floor nursing.
First thing in the morning and last thing at night, it is just me and him. Cooper has three siblings and a mama who is trying to write a book. Once the rest of the brood wake up the day becomes a cacophony of shouts, cries, and “mama I need you”. It is a special thing, this time we get together away from the other kids, and I am happy for it to continue until we are ready to let it go. I’m not going to allow anyone else to tell me what is right for my child.