A Cheap Impostor, Some False Hope & The Ultimate Compliment

In your stroller @ the library.

My Sweet Nathan. You are getting so big so fast. [19.2 lbs, to be exact!]

You're 9 1/2 months old now and you have started so many new things just in the last 4 weeks. You sit up like a pro, you do a mean army-crawl and you're getting faster every day, you popped out two beautiful teeth without a fuss, you're going gung-ho on solid foods. It's amazing. YOU'RE amazing!

From the very beginning, you have been a champion nurser. You are all business and you make no bones about letting people know. You'll even stop to glare at your daddy if he tries to interrupt you mid-meal. You're too funny.

I nursed both of your big brothers for about nine months but then they both started to lose interest, my supply wained and then it was over. I was SO hoping that I'd get a little extra time with you. [Not creepy long, mind you, but still. I'd gladly take a few more months.] But, alas, it seems like our nursing days may be coming to an end. You're definitely not losing interest, but my supply just can't keep up with you. All your moving and shaking is churning up quite an impressive appetite!

Since I could tell that weaning is on the horizon, I bought a canister of formula and tried giving you your first bottle of formula last Saturday. Both of your brothers were pros at taking bottles. You, on the other hand, have made it quite clear on several prior occasions that a bottle just doesn't meet your standards. Whether you get nice, warm milk or not, that bottle is a cheap impostor and you would really, REALLY rather not resort to such a desperate measure. But, Saturday was different. It was a breeze! You snuggled right up to me, looked me in the eyes and gulped it right down. No problem! I laid you down for a nap and promptly went to sing your praises to Daddy - because you really are an amazing little guy.

But, it seems you aren't prepared to give up quite so easily. [Darn it!] That one blessedly simple formula feeding was your first and your last. Ever since you have refused to take a bottle. Apparently you aren't willing to give up without a fight. Where does that leave us? Well. You are slightly hungry. I am slightly frustrated. I think we're just going to have to keep at it until you decide that maybe your standards are a little bit unrealistic. [Although I do think anyone that cute really should get their way.]

So. Like I said, I'm frustrated. I'm trying not to think too much about weaning you, because I don't want to. You're my baby and everything you do for the last time is something that I will be doing for the last time, too. If I think about it too much I'm going to end up soaking my keyboard while I type. I have to move on and know that every last comes with another first and that you're more and more incredible each and every day - it's just the way it was with your brothers. But still, harder with you. Will you please, please always be my baby?

In the mean time, I'm trying to down-play my frustration by realizing that you are really just giving me the ultimate compliment. After all, how special does it make a person feel when someone they love shows them that they are #1? That absolutely, without-a-doubt no other thing or person could ever take their place? It feels darn special and I'm so happy to be your preferred milk-delivery method. I love you, Little One!