The weening war

**Warning**
**Okay boys, I know y'all have been to war and can handle all kinds of things, but before you proceed with this post, be warned, it does involve nursing so feel free to click away**

We leave for camp in a little over a week. And although I am excited about a chance to bond with the youth kids it is killing me to leave my own children for a week. I have never been away from them for that long and certainly never that far of a distance from them. I know they will be in good hands and that I am also only a phone call away, but that's just it, they are not my hands and a phone call just isn't the same. A break from wiping bums and tying shoes is nice but a mommy never needs a break from sloppy kisses and Lego towers. Oh how I will miss them.

And Timothy. A week in baby time is forever. Who knows all the things he could learn to do in one week. The little guy is cutting three teeth, two on top and one on bottom. The bottom one is shinning out now but those two top ones are taking forever. By the time I come home he will look like a different baby. And the walking..... He is trying. He has taken about five steps or so and from time to time he tries to take off on his own only to stumble and fall with a big smile on his face. I am sure he will get it just right while I am gone and I will miss it. The worst of all is the weening. He is so angry. He screams and slaps me. We are down to only twice a day now and that's good but it's killing me. Truth be told if we weren't leaving for camp I probably would have nursed longer than a year. Eventually Jeff would have said that it was time to stop and I would have resented that, so it's probably better this way. You can't really be mad at a camp, so it works out that I have no one to blame. I know that I am the one making this choice but it's hard. He is my last baby. I will never get to do this again.

Unless you have nursed a baby I don't think you can truly understand this. For me it is like an extension of pregnancy. I am sustaining life. I am giving my child something that no one else can give them. Those are bonding tender moments. My Katibug was our noisy eater and unless you ever heard her eat there is no describing it with words, only sounds. She took large gulps. It was nearly impossible to nurse her privately in church. She also would hold onto my bottom lip sometimes. Who knows what that was about. Maybe she wanted to eat in peace and quiet but let me tell you getting a cut on your gums hurts. Those little tiny baby nails are sharp! Brendon on the other hand wasn't noisy he just wanted to know that it was available at any moment, where ever and whenever he wanted it. I kid you not, on his first three night home he would cry as soon as I got all covered up after nursing. He didn't even want to eat anymore he just wanted to know that he still could if he so choose. As he got older he held onto my bra while he ate. What I thought were tender cuddling holds have now become clear to me. I think they were really about making sure he ate until he was full. If you know my Bear then you know he is never full. Now my Timbo is different. There are no cute sounds or holds, the boy just can't be still. As soon as he had control over his limbs he began swinging his feet while he nursed. And swinging. And swinging. And swinging. When we sideline he likes to try to lay on his belly and put his hiney in the air and when I sit up he thinks he need to sit after a while himself. Never still. If this is a sign of things to come then I am in trouble. At least we will have found someone to give Bear a run for his money.

I am not looking forward to the very last time I nurse him. It will be bittersweet. There will be freedom but much will be lost for me. I will cry knowing it's my last time. Knowing that this stage of our lives is over. No more pregnancies. No more nursing. No more babies.