My little boy is 6 months old today. SIX MONTHS! Half of an Earth year! Wow!
People say it goes fast and it really does, but at the same time it’s like I can’t remember him not being around.
He seems so much younger than his sister was at the same age. He still barely eats people food but that’s really my own laziness and apathy towards creating yet another fucking mess.
He still very much does not sleep through the night. I couldn’t tell you how often he wakes because honestly I don’t know. We cosleep for my own convenience but also because we live in a house design for a single man and his pet budgie.
He kinda sits. He’s more likely to cry than roll. The main thing I’m chuffed about in getting to the 6 month milestone is breastfeeding.
I didn’t think we’d get this far. I set myself the optimistic goal of 6 months without really believing I could do it. But I have, and I can’t imagine doing it any other way. I can honestly see myself doing extended feeding because it seems like my parenting style has gone from “sometimes I care” to “if it’s not broken I ain’t fixing it”.
I find it so easy. I have tons of milk and Hamish is a good feeder. I pop boobs wherever we go without having to consider crap like formula and bottles. I know he comfort feeds but this kid won’t take a dummy. I’m his mum. I should comfort him.
With Eliza it scared me to be her only source of nourishment. I hated being the only one who could calm her. With Hamish I feel needed and it doesn’t break me. I kinda like it.
A year from now I’ll be writing a post begging for help to wean the little shit but for now I am content with my little Gryffindor.
Still can’t believe I was scared I couldn’t love a boy. The genders of my kids are so irrelevant.