deep, deep shame

blissed out baby boy

Our lactation consultant has really turned me into a neurotic mess when it comes to being a mother. But, it's become increasingly clear that Peter would like to use ME as a pacifier, and that's really not good for either of us. (Especially when it results in eruptions of overfed baby spit-up, like this morning, in which the entire family needs a change of clothes.)

So, after a disastrous walk to the post office, I came home and put this in his mouth. He took to it immediately, and within seconds had the zoned-out look of an opium addict. My mother asked how badly I felt, and all I could say was that it made me want to cry.

Luckily, Kevin came home a few minutes later to reassure me that I was not ruining the baby. I'm still not convinced, but I can't help but enjoy the 20 minutes of sleeping baby, delinquent thank-you-note writing, and reading that we've all been able to accomplish.

It was part of our bounty from Team Wilkens, and might have been a stroke of good luck from an otherwise crazy visit.