Who are you?

11 January 2022 | Jono 22 months | Lochie 3.5 years

Who are you…and what did you do with my little Jono?

“I have to wake Jono now, because I love my little Jono,” Lochie mumbled at 6:30am today as he clambered up the stairs, naked except for his sagging overnight nappy.

“Lochie, let him sleep, it’s only 6:30 in the morning.” My head was spinning, it’s not that early but Jono was up at 6am and I had been up numerous times throughout the night to check on both kids on this muggy 33C night. “Let me see what time it is!” Lochie exclaimed as he climbed on the master bed and started pressing buttons on Don’s alarm clock. A few button clicks and the clock was reset to 00:00. “Oh, look, it’s not 6:30, that’s a lot of 8’s!!”

Well, it doesn’t matter, Jono was awoken and I had rushed to prepare omelette for the kids to start the day with protein for a change, instead of mummy’s boobies and avocado-coated fruit toast. After I had bandaided my nipples for the morning. I feared this day 2 of “boobie owies” would be a hard one, and sure enough, Jono reached out instinctively for the boobies but was presently distracted by excited efforts to whisk him downstairs for YouTube “car colours” and a spread of omelette with vegetables. He dutifully nibbled on cheesy omelette and gave me space, for now.

At childcare drop-off, Jono buried his head in my neck and was pulled off forcefully. I had to return home to change my blood and chocolate stained white top. Lochie’s scraped knees from mucking around in the childcare lawn, and Jono’s 90% cocoa chocolate face.

Many hours later, I had returned to pick up the boyband boys. I came prepared with full dinner of capsicums, carrots and black seeded bread with cheese, nervous that Jono would try to rip off my top. He didn’t. He didn’t try at home, either. He didn’t tantrum. He refused to go to bed, didn’t want to face the boobless bedtime, but finally the little 2 year old body had its own idea of sleepiness, and he succumbed to books on my lap. He read books purposefully and passionately, occassionally peeking into my bra to check whether nipples still had bandaid owies, then took a sip of milk – for the first time. I explained it was milk like mummy’s milk. He didn’t like it but he drank it out of principle and respect. He checked whether nipples were still owied, let out a short, broken yelp of agony, then continued counting 4 green balloons, 5 red balls. Eventually I told him it was bed time and he dutifully let me lower him into bed.

This is the record time that I have gone with no breastfeeding. I didn’t expect Jono to react this way.

Ironically, I was so excited about the progress that this morning I forgot to take the bandaids off for the day. Now, peeling them off the delicate nipple area made it clear to me why nobody uses bandaids as nipple covers under slinky dresses.

Mummy has nipple owies.