Happy Anniversary Baby!

Four years ago today I wore my fun, party style wedding dress and, in front of all of our family and friends, married my sweet, balding, storytelling best friend.  Sean and I still constantly talk about how amazing our wedding day was.  We also love to reminisce about our history and the events that brought us together (described in a previous post).  Part of the reason our story is so remarkable to me is because  there were so many moments in time when it almost didn't happen at all.  Like one of those you pick the ending books, there were a lot of possible, not so lovely, outcomes that were only nearly avoided.


I guess I believe in a form of destiny, the kind that is strongly influenced by free-will.  I think the universe gives us ample opportunities to reach our greatest potential and happiness but it is up to us to make the most of those opportunities.  Sean and I both also believe that the energy we put out is the energy that we get back.  If we focus on all of the ways we are blessed and believe that things will continue to work out for us, then the universe (or whatever you want to call it) will continue to provide.  Although I've always believed these things, I haven't always lived it.  Because of that, I think the universe probably got pretty sick of giving Sean and I opportunities to realize that we were suppose to be together.  


There are a couple of moments in the history of Sean and Bri that, looking back, are particularly ironic. One being the time about 9 years ago when Sean and I were having beers at Gritty's with a friend.  That friend and I were both single and were discussing whether or not we thought we had already met our future husband or wife.  The two of us were both open to the possibility that our life partner might already be in our lives.  Sean, on the other hand, was adamant that he had not yet met the woman of his dreams, which was pretty funny since Sean was in a long-term, serious relationship.  My friend and I started giving Sean a really hard time about being in a relationship that he was sure was going nowhere when Sean said, "I have a much better chance of marrying Bri than I do (insert old girlfriend- who I hope doesn't get her hands on this blog)."  If this was a work of fiction you would call this a serious case of foreshadowing but at the time I only thought it was evidence of Sean's stupidity (said in the nicest way).


My other favorite Sean quote from the "pre-marriage/kids/happily-ever-after" days took place several years later after another night  of some drinks with friends.  Sean and I had gone into town together but Sean wanted to stay out longer.  I was ready to go home but had drank too much to drive.  I called the guy I had been dating to pick me up.  When I told Sean how I was getting home he got pretty upset.  This was during the "will we or won't we be together" era in the saga of Sean and Bri.  I had made pretty clear that I wasn't going to sit around and wait for Sean to figure his stuff out and was actively pursuing other options.  The guy on his way to pick me up was the first person Sean actually felt threatened by.  So that night, sitting on the steps of the Children's Museum (a place where we now hold a family membership) Sean said in the most hopeless voice, "your wedding day is going to be the saddest day of my life." FYI- I still left with the other guy but it wasn't long after that when Sean finally made his move.  


Fortunately for both of us, Sean was right at Gritty's but wrong outside of the museum.  Our wedding day was amazing and most of the days since have been pretty awesome too.  I love being married and being a mom.  The last four years have easily been the best of my life.  Whenever I think about my partnership with Sean and the peace and love I have found with him, I am always reminded of this poster my dad had hanging in his home-office.  The poster was a long list of pieces of advice to have a happy life.  One of them went something like this, "Choose your life's mate carefully. From this one decision will come 90 percent of all your happiness or misery."  I think I chose well and am rewarded for my good decision making every day in the form of cooked dinners, co-parenting, and lots of silliness and laughter.  Happy anniversary baby!  I love you.  

Thank You For Being a Friend

In the last couple of months I have regularly had the theme song for The Golden Girls on replay in my crowded little brain.  You know the one, "Thank you for being a friend, travelled down the road and back again, your heart is true you're a pal and a confidant."  As if this wasn't random and wacky enough, every time it bounces into my head I start to tear up.  Yup, this little ditty from a show that dates back to the mid 80's (that I haven't even seen a clip of in at least 10 years) brings me to tears every time I think of it (which is a lot).  Now I could easily blame lack of sleep or the hormones involved in breastfeeding three kids on this emotional reaction but the real reason happens to be considerably sappier but undeniably true.  And that truth is that I have never felt more loved, cared for, and supported in my life.  I have never before felt like I had so many people to be grateful for, so many pals and confidants.  And in a word, it is awesome.  Actually I need two words, it is totally awesome.  

I have these three beautiful little creatures created in my womb that look at me every day with admiration, awe, and total love.  They make me feel like the most special person on the planet.  I am married to my best friend, someone who loves me totally as I am, in spite of the fact that he is all too familiar with my many flaws.  He makes me roar with laughter every day and manages to still make me feel sexy and desired even after being up close and personal as I birthed each of our three little monsters.  My blessings continue with parents who are still happily married after 33 years, people that I can both call for advice and emotional/financial/household support but also have over for a drink, some pizza, and a lot of laughs.  My sister is not only my co-conspirator on teasing our parents and reminiscing on all things mischievous from childhood but someone I can talk with about anything under the sun and a person I admire for her creativity and zest.  

My parents and sister with my Ben

On top of all that, I have this sea of people who are not bound to be by blood or marriage vows.  This group of people actually chooses to be in my life, to expose themselves to my shenanigans and tomfoolery.  Today one of those people, a work friend from my last school, came and spent the day with me.  I treated her to diaper changes, constant relocations to chase my 2 year old, and some hearty spit-up, because nothing says friendship  like my regurgitated breastmilk all over your shirt.  Not only does Tracy regularly make the hour long drive to come see us and stays the entire day with all hands on deck but she often brings diapers too, which has become a sort of currency in this home.  Yesterday my best friend of 20 years and I got to exchange a few one syllable words on the phone between the cries and hoots of our seven collective kids.  I wish for my children the type of lifelong friendship I have with Nicole.  I hope they have someone that they trust with their darkest secrets and can show their true self even in their most vulnerable times.  Yesterday the kids and I also entertained two new friends that I made while going to mommy groups with the girls.  These women understand that a sleeping baby comes before all else and that being a mom can be a lonely job if you let it be.  

My BFF and 5 out of our 7 collective children

Since the population jump in this house almost seven months ago, I have become even more aware of the power of friendship.  I don't know if we would have survived or stayed nearly as intact without the outpouring of support.  The friends that I made from the new mom groups with Ben not only brought food over every day for almost three weeks after I had Brynn and Eme but continue to provide adult company, playmates for Ben, advice, and a group of girlfriends to feel connected with to prevent my life from being swallowed up with diaper changes, feedings, and nap schedules.  My girlfriend Maia has been my guru for all things breastfeeding and continues to make me feel awesome instead of foolish for nursing all three of my children.  My parents, my mother-in-law, and my sister-in-law have helped keep my marriage intact by being willing to take on three kids while Sean and I sneak out for drinks or the occasional meal.  My current work friends, who conveniently have recently completed their families, have been so generous in passing along their baby clothes and gear to my now well dressed and entertained little girls.  

Some of my mommy friends!

In conclusion, I am grateful.  I am so blessed and grateful for the people in my life.  If I didn't name you specifically please know that you are still appreciated and so loved.  I am extremely proud to be able to surround my children with such wonderful human beings.  Oh, and one more thing,   "if you through a party, invited everyone you ever knew, you would see the biggest gift would be from me, and the card attached would say thank you for being a friend."

Love Letter

I've recently been playing catch up with all three of my kids' baby books.  Looking at pictures from the past 3+ years since we planted out first seed (aka-Ben), has gotten me thinking about all the conversations Sean and I had about having a family after we found out we were expecting.  So today I went and got out the journal with the letters I wrote to each of my children when I was pregnant.  My little wolf pack visited slumber-land at the same time (quite an accomplishment) and allowed me some precious moments to re-read all the letters I had written.  One in particular, that I wrote in the second trimester of my pregnancy with Ben, got me pretty emotional and helped me to re-prioritize what's important to me as a parent.  It is easy to get caught up in the details (nap times, feedings, dishes, laundry, keeping my kids from clawing each other's eyes out).  This little letter reminded me of why I made the decision to become a parent and the gifts I want to give to my children.

I read the letter to Ben after his nap and asked if I could share it with you.  He said it was okay if you read it as long as he could have a snack.  So, while Ben eats his cheese and fruit, take a few minutes to read the words of a naive but fairly wise (if I do say so myself) little expectant mommy:

Pregnant with Mr. Ben on Swans Island (aka- the girl who wrote the letter)

7/10/2009

Dear Mia or Ben,

I love you little one.  Grow strong for Mommy.

The Island is so beautiful today.  Bright blue, cloudless skies, a cool breeze to cut the warm air.  Your grandmother and I are at the Fine Sand Beach reading, drawing (Gram not me), going for walks, and watching lobsterman collect their traps.  I can almost picture you playing in the sand, asking us to run with you, or help you build a sandcastle out of seashells, rocks, and sand.  But for now you grow in my belly, which amazes me and makes me believe in god in a way I never thought possible.  Rest and grow strong, my sweet baby. 

Picturing you being here beside me makes me think about the kind of mother I hope to be.  Here are some things I can promise you (feel free to hold this list over my head in your preteen and teenage years):

• I will love you unconditionally and with my whole heart.
• I will talk with you and share my experiences but, more importantly, I will listen, really listen, when you have something to say.
• Even though I will want to protect you and keep you safe from all hurts and pain, I will allow you to make your own choices and mistakes.  
• I promise to be your mother first, even when you think you'd rather me just be a friend.  I will tell you the truth (nicely) even when you don't really want to hear it.
• You will always have boundaries to keep you safe and expectations and responsibilities to keep you focused.  But I will also encourage you to be a child and enjoy life no matter your age.
• I will accept you for who you are even if I don't always understand the choices you make.  I will allow you to be your own person and find your own way.  Even though it will be hard for me, I won't stand in your way of taking risks and taking steps towards independence.  
• I will engage you in conversation and activities that get your mind and imagination working.  I will be the teacher and the student and let you be both too.  
• I will constantly expose you to new things and new perspectives and then encourage you to choose your own interests to investigate further.  
• Besides just your father and I, I will surround you with people who will support you and be a positive influence in your life.  You will know friendship, laughter, and fun.  
• I will share with you my love for life and try my best to be a role-model of kindness, compassion, optimism, and perseverance.   

Sweetheart, to summarize, I promise to always do my best and try to do right by you.  I am not a perfect person.  I will lose my patience at times and let stress and frustration get the best of me.  But you will always know that I love you.  This being a mom thing is new to me but I will learn as I go and treasure every moment of being your mom.

Love you!
Your Mommy

Womb Ache

I am done having kids.  I am done having kids.  I am done having kids.

My uterus is no coach potato

Although there were times when I fantasized about having a big crew of bambinos, any time Sean and I had talked realistically our future plan had always been two, maybe three kids if fortune somehow found its way to us.  As most of you know, although we have yet to hit the jackpot or stumble upon a million dollar idea, we were blessed with a pretty sweet two for one special in the form of two awesome little ladies who came our way as a packaged deal about 6 months ago.  We now couldn't picture ourselves as anything less than a happy family of five.  But I would consider us pretty maxed out with our three kids under three.  Our house is at capacity in terms of people and stuff, our bank account whimpers a little bit from lack of love, and any more prioritizing of our time and energy and Sean and I will probably have to stop showering and using words that have more than one syllable.    

My head and even my heart know that more kids is most likely not in my future but my uterus is sending signals that it would like more business.  Biology is a funny thing, the instincts and urges we have that seem entirely out of our control are a little crazy.   My uterus is currently trying it's best to ensure survival of the human species by compelling me to continue sending it fertilized eggs.  My tricky little reproductive system attempts to fool me into procreation by flooding me with feelings of pregnancy-nostalgia and the urning to fill my uterus with a new being.  I have termed this intense, seemingly hormonal, reaction/feeling "womb ache".  

Womb ache often strikes when I am holding or cuddling one of my offspring but can also occur in less  serene moments.  At times my body seems not to be urging me to grow a new person but instead, seems to want me to insert one of the people I have already made back into my belly (with no regard for how large that person now is).  At this point many of you will have stopped reading and are now on the phone with a reputable mental institution.  Although I would prefer not to be locked up, if you know of a good womb-ache support group, I would be more than willing to attend. 

I am unsure how rare of an infliction womb ache is.  If the above symptoms sound familiar to you and you would be interested in being a part of a case study that may eventually lead to medical trials, please leave your contact information below.  Until then, I refuse to let one organ (and not even a vital one at that) dictate my future choices and the amount of children whose diapers, extracurricular activities, and college educations I have to pay for.  So, take that you diabolical uterus!  All the aching and acting up in the world won't get me to meet your ever growing demands! 

The Paths Not Chosen

Next month I will celebrate my 31st birthday.  I feel like every additional candle on my cake comes with added clarity, confidence, and purpose.   Facing life's challenges is significantly easier when you have a handle on your own strengths and weaknesses.  Having a road map of where you've been and a decent idea of where you're headed also provides a framework for making important decisions.  It's crazy to me that we expect people in their late teens and early 20's to have a firm grasp on who they are and make decisions that will dictate the rest of their lives.  

I for one, had a pretty limited idea of my internal workings at 22, let alone 17.  Fortunately for me, I made decisions that worked out.  My limited experiences and knowledge of the world and myself ended up being enough to aid me in choosing a career, life partner (or at least showing me who not to chose), and social circle.  We place a lot of pressure on our young people.  It seems to me decisions about college, majors, and career paths all come far too soon.  Not to say that you can't change your mind.  I read somewhere that the average adult changes careers 7 times, that's a lot of big moves.  I don't know about you, but the idea of changing careers at this point in my life, with my three kids and monster mortgage, doesn't seem very realistic, let alone intriguing.  

Even tough I am fairly happy with the education and career related decisions I've made that have ultimately led me to a job that I enjoy and that is well suited for me, I can't help but think about the careers I might have pursued had a I known a little more about my interests and talents back at the turn of the millennium.   When my school counselor days are particularly stressful and my paychecks appear increasingly meager, I fantasize about the path(s) not chosen.  Here are what my dreams are made of:

Parrell Universe Bri #1- Sideline NFL Reporter (aka the token female on the football field)

Picture this, me dressed in the cutest, yet least practical, winter hat you have ever seen.  My hair curled in tiny ringlets flying with abandon around my face.  My clothes causal but hip.  My expression playful but with an edge.  Interviewing huge and hard hitting linebackers. The quarterback after the 40 yard throw. The coach after the overtime win.  Never again would a family friend assume my husband was the football fan.  People would ask me to explain the intricacies of the game, instead of assuming I am only there to cook or provide beverages.  

What Might Have Been #2- Marketing/Advertising- The Jingle Girl

Coming up with snappy songs, corny catch phrases, and rapping rhymes is in my blood.  So it only makes sense that big business should be knocking down my door for my next million dollar marketing campaign.  Of course, I would be such a prized possession to my firm that I would be able to work from home most days and have a sea of personal assistants to make sure my mind would be totally clear for magic.  

It Could Happen #3- The Millionaire Matchmaker

Now this is one future I have actually considered making a reality.  Having watched a friend or two try to find love on the www, I know it isn't for everybody.  I also know, in part from my own experience, that most people aren't actually aware of what they really need/want from a partner.  My business would provide "Millionaire Matchmaker" (as in the tv show) type of services at a price that the average joe could afford.  I'm not going to get too into the specifics because, who knows, this might be a career move worth taking a chance on someday.  

In Another Life #4-Movie Producer- Character Development

I consider myself an excellent judge of quality movies and television shows because I think I get people, I know what makes them tick and I can sense sincerity.   Nothing turns me off faster than one-diamenial characters.  When I'm watching or reading my fiction, I want to believe the person portrayed could come walking through my door at any moment because their existence seems so tangible, so sure.  I think I could do a decent job making sure that characters on the big and small screen matter to people and raise in them a real feeling and connection.  Plus I think it would be really fun to carry one of those snappy, black and white things and yell "CUT" and "ACTION".  

Back To Reality

Like I said, my actual career is pretty awesome most days.  I mean, my office is filled with Play-Doh, puppets, and fidgets.  I really can't complain.  But on the days I need a mental vacation to a new career land, it helps to have some images all ready to go.  So, now it's only fair that you share yours too.  Here's your time machine set to go back before kids, before mortgages, before life seemed to have you too entangled for flexibility.  Tell me, my friend, what would you be?  

Counting Cats

Meow!

When Sean and I talk about the values we want to impart in our children, a couple of things always come up, one being respect for yourself and others,  and the other being the importance of hard work and perseverance in the face of difficulty and obstacles.  Working in the field of education, I have seen more than a couple of students who, after years of having things come easy for them, come to a subject or period of time that is difficult or that they don't understand right away and breakdown.  Oftentimes those students, because they never learned how to trudge through, give up or mistakenly believe they are no longer smart because they need help.  This is why I sincerely hope that things in school and in life in general don't universally come easy for our kids.  It sounds counterintuitive but I  hope they meet with struggle early on and if genetics have anything to say about (mine at least) they will.  

I have never had an intelligence test but I'm guessing if I did, either currently or in the past, it would probably be a pretty average score.  I do not consider myself highly intelligent.  And although it would be nice to have a photographic memory or be able to pick up any new concept or language easily, I have learned that there are more important strengths and characteristics to have.  

I struggled across the board in elementary school.  Not only was every academic subject a puzzle to me (and I have never been into puzzles) but making friends and reaching out to new people brought me great anxiety as well.  At home I was a vivacious and creative kiddo but coming out of my shell at school felt scary and unsettling.  If you didn't know me then (and most of you didn't), this information probably surprises you.  In the past several years that I have been a school counselor, I have told many of my students about my early struggles.  Kids are almost always surprised to hear that school was difficult for me academically and are even more shocked to hear that I was very shy and insecure.  After all, I have no problem wearing pajamas to school, making up silly songs and belting them out to a large audience, and leading silly classroom role plays.

The highlights of my early school years go something like this.  I remember distinctly the color of my kindergarten reading folder.  The folder was red, a color that didn't take me long to figure out meant struggle, meant fewer words and a slower pace, meant watching kids go up to blue or yellow while I stayed behind, stuck in red.  I can't think of first grade without the image of a big blue and white cat coming to mind.  By then I wasn't even in the classroom for math and reading.  And because the concepts of addition and subtraction were difficult for me to process, my math teacher used large plastic kittens to make things more tangible.  While I was counting cats in the resource room, the girl I most admired in the 1st grade was doing multiplication tables, which I mistakenly believed could only be done on the wooden table where these elite students worked.  In 2nd grade I remember trying desperately to escape to the nurses office to save myself from the torture that was mad minutes (where each student had to do as many math problems as possible in 60 seconds time).  

While these memories are a little painful, they also always make me think of the years that followed.  They make me think of the librarian turned 3rd grade teacher that I was lucky enough to have two years in a row, a teacher that realized my love for books and writing.  She helped me grow academically and as a learner by focusing on my strengths (which I did have), and in the process bolstered my confidence too.  I also think about middle school.  I no longer needed help outside the classroom but I remember telling one of the popular boys to shut-up, and some other things too, when he made a rude comment about one of our classmates who did frequent the resource room.  I'm proud of that little first grader for counting those cats day after day, even as her favorite friend got the pretty table in the center of the classroom for her fancy math.  And I'm really proud of that skinny 12 year old for telling that jerk where he could stick it because she remembered how it felt to be different and worried that everyone thought you were stupid.  I wouldn't change a thing about how my academic career started because it created a foundation that allowed me to succeed in-spite of my weaknesses.  I am now not only the proud owner of an undergraduate degree but a masters degree as well, with aspirations to one day get my doctorate.  I do not give my intelligence credit for these achievements.  All the glory goes to my motivation and perseverance, things I learned way back in my days of counting cats.   

It is a little ironic that I now happily and confidently stroll down the hallways and sit in the classrooms of a school not that different from one that 25 years ago made me want to run home and back into the arms of my mother.  But I believe this gives me a huge advantage as an educator and counselor of our little people, especially the ones that struggle.  When I peel a first grader out of his mother's arms and listen to him come up with every excuse in the book as to why he has to go home, I get it.  When a forth grader starts to cry everyday at the mention of math class, I get it.  When a student suddenly comes down with a headache or stomach bug every-time the words test, assessment, or quiz are mentioned, I get it.  I'm a stronger person because I didn't easily come by what I have.  My hope for my children, the ones that came from my womb and the ones I counsel, is that they learn perseverance and the value of working hard even if it doesn't in that moment get them to the head of the class.  

So for anyone out there that is struggling, finding that things aren't coming easily, looking around and feeling like you are falling behind.  I say to you, just keep counting those cats, keep working hard, keep showing up.  I truly believe it  will pay off for you twofold someday.  

Magical Boo or My Magnificent Mammary Glands

Ben tandem nursing his babies.  

Woman are amazing.  I'm pretty surprised that I'm attracted to men because I absolutely think women are the more interesting and capable sex.  Men might have the ability to grow bigger muscles and I'm sure thousands of years ago that was sort of valuable.  But in 2012, although there are some careers or lifestyles in which being able to carry heavy crap is important, most people just don't need to be able to bench press 300 pounds in their day to day life, not that necessary (and really how many of them can actually do that anyway?).  

On the other hand, woman have the ability to grow inside them human life (yes, I know with a little help from that less impressive sex).  Not only can we grow human beings but we have the ability to feed those little humans by just flashing some skin, that's pretty awesome planning on someone's part (thanks, higher powers).  Bottom line, women are awesome and I am super proud to be one.  Having kids has given me this whole new respect and admiration for my body, especially in light of the recent accomplishments by those two lumps of fat on my chest (more to follow).  

If there was a photographer in my home, taking pictures of me throughout the day and night, just randomly clicking away every 15 minutes or so, my guess is he or she would find me with at least one child on my breast at least 75% of the time.  If this sounds like an extreme, exaggerated number to you, then there is probably a valuable piece of information about me and my family that you are missing.  And that minor detail is......... all three of my children currently breastfeed.  Not just that, but breastfeeding is sort of their thing.  While other children have a favorite blanket or stuffed animal, my kids have my boobs to cuddle up with and they're pretty happy about it.  It usually works out for me too.  I don't have to worry about bottles and I can quickly comfort an upset, hurt, or sick kiddo.  But I do have those moments when I would like my body back, to put up a sign that says "closed due to overuse" or cover my nipples with some bandaids and claim to be broken (which, by the way, I have actually heard of women doing).    

So you ask, how did I get to a place where making milk has become my claim to fame?  Flashback to my pregnancy with my son, I knew enough about breastfeeding to know that it was worth giving a try.  I also knew enough to expect it to be difficult, especially because I would be returning to work only a mere 10 weeks after having my son.  On top of that, I had also had a lump surgically removed from my breast a couple of years before Ben came along, and I was a little worried that might have a negative impact on my ability to produce milk or my baby's ability to latch onto that nipple.  Although I knew that the Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for at least a year, I figured 9 months was a more realistic goal for me since that would mean nursing throughout my maternity leave, the 16 weeks left in the school calendar, and throughout the summer when I could be home with my bambino. 

Minutes after Ben was born, when I recovered from the euphoria (at least partially) of having my tiny son in my arms, I asked the nurse if I should try offering him the breast (I had heard that nursing right away increased the chances of a successful breastfeeding relationship).  She said that while I could try, I shouldn't be disappointed if it didnt work out  right away.  I stuck that nipple in my son's surprised little mouth and I'll be damned if he didn't start suckling almost instantly.  Convinced that I couldn't possibly be doing it right, I gestured to the nurse to come check things out.  She smiled and gave us a thumbs up.  15 or 20 minutes later I asked if I should try switching sides.  Again I was told to give it a try but that Ben might be tuckered out or my other nipple might not be as accomadating.  Again we found great success and Ben was crowned king of breastfeeding, a title he still happily holds.  Nursing continued to go smoothly so I kept pushing back my goal: 9 months, 1 year, 18 months.  Then a curve ball was thrown at us.  A curve ball in the shape of two tiny embryos in my uterus.  

As I described in my previous blog, The Truth About the Twins, I had many concerns when news of the two little people growing inside me got through to my poor, shocked little brain.  One of my main concerns was my son and the impact two new siblings would have on him.  According to the sonographer, Ben should have been feeling the effects of his growing siblings right away.   When I told her I had an 18 month old that I was still nursing, she immediately replied "you better go home and start weaning that baby".   She was one of many people who basically told me that it would be impossible not only to nurse three children but to nurse while being pregnant with twins.  Fortunately, my doctor was not one of the people with this incorrect advice.  She not only supported my decision to continue breastfeeding my son through my pregnancy, but also didn't look at me like I was a nut when I told her I was going to try nursing all three of my kids.  Thank goodness for her because nursing my son throughout my pregnancy and continuing to nurse him after the twins were born turned out to be the right decision for us (or at least the kids and I).  I'll let Sean write his own blog about his very mixed feelings.

I am certainly not going to sit here and tell you that it was always easy to nurse an active, not always gentle, toddler while dealing with incredibly sore and tender nipples.  In fact while I was pregnant Ben would often announce, "this is gonna hurt mom", before he latched on.  I guess I screamed a little too loud once or twice.  


If you've been to visit at all in the last four months, you know that my boobs are in high demand.  In fact, at any given time of day, Ben can tell you the line-up of whose at bat (or boob in this case) and whose on deck.  There are times I feel more like a refrigerator with a revolving door than a mother.  This being said, I still see being able to nurse all three of my small children as a blessing and a strength.  In fact, I think it's one of the things that has let us adapt so successfully from a family of three to a family of five (and most days I do think we're pretty successful).   

My current breastfeeding goal with my son is to allow him to wean himself when he is ready.   That might be the one goal that I am not able to attain.  I've read on KellyMom (an amazing resource/website for nursing moms) that most children, when allowed to wean on their own, do so between 2 and 7 years old.  I think Ben might be on the 7 year plan, especially since he now refers to nursing as "magical boo".  Since he has been able to talk he has always called nursing "boo".  The magical piece was thrown in after Sean was making fun of Ben and I for nursing every time Ben so much as nudges into something.  My response was to tell my husband that he just didn't understand how magical boo was.  Well, my little two year old sponge was listening and it's been "magical boo" ever since (it does sort of have a nice ring to it).

I'm not so sure I'm hip with the seven year nursing plan.  I'm thinking Ben will probably be getting the old boot  around three, three and a half if he's lucky.  As far as the girls go, my goal is to make it to a year, we'll see how it goes from there.  Who knows, maybe I do have at least one early weaner in my midst (although I suspect this is not the case).  But whatever, there are way worse problems to have than three breast loving kids.  And for the record, at this point, I have grown accustomed to the strange looks I get when I tell people I am still nursing Ben along with the girls or when they see it for themselves.  This is one thing that I have no problem being judged for.  I won't hold it against you if you think I'm crazy.  On the other hand, if you say something supportive or give me a high-five for effort (and many of you do), it does give you serious Bri bonus points.  Who knows, maybe someday they'll be worth something!