Pointers into Sitters

I hope Annabel begins to accept food soon, she's still exclusive on the breast and since she's now 8 months old, it's getting tough. Let me share a story with you.

My nippie was on fire! I looked down at Annabel nursing and tried not to wince. "Any moment now she'll be done," I kept telling myself. As she finished my shoulders sagged in relief. I looked up to see Jimbo holding another baby.

"You forgot to feed her too," he says. He holds the baby out toward me...

Suddenly I wake up. The pain is still in my poor tired boob because Annabel is firmly latched on. It's 1:30 am and not only is my boob sore but my head is pounding. She cries when I take her off so I rotate her to the other side. She nestles in and proceeds to nurse for another 30 minutes.

When I can't hold off any longer I unlatch her and hurry downstairs to take something for my head, meanwhile she begins to throw a tantrum and scream bloody murder. I take the medicine and hurry back to the bed. She roots around until I offer up the breast and again she snuggles in to her personal smorgasbord.

My girls are not going to survive another child. God bless them. They used to be a source of great pride. Both were perky and many a person lavished attention on them (from afar people, these gals lived by the "look but don't touch" motto! Gheesh!). But those glory days are long since gone. Today those girls have a job to do, no more fun and games.

What I'm about to say to you all is tacky as hell but it makes me laugh so hard. It's from a song I love from Rusty McHugh who plays live in Florabama (I love those CD's, so does my Dad, he gave me my first copy. We're redneck like that). You can hear a snippet HERE. (THIS one is great too, just had to share, it's my favorite I think.)

One too many litters turned those pointers into sitters.

Shit.