I swear it was just two days ago that I was all, "Oh, I'm night weaning B and he's doing great!" And by "great" I meant he'd given up nursing for the first 3-4 hours of the night. Which for us is like a tremendous "improvement." And he'd given that up without so much as a fuss.
The rest of it.
Nope.
He's still attached all. night. long. The alternative is he cries all. night. long.
And I'm just not okay with that.
I keep telling myself he'll night wean before he's like 10. Right?
Surely.
I can do just about anything if I know there is an end in sight.
Even if that end is not for another 5 years. (No, I have zero intentions of nursing a 6 year old. To each their own, it's just not for me. Then again, I had zero intentions of nursing an almost 3 year old, so I should probably shut my mouth).
I just keep reminding myself that for one reason or another, emotionally, physically, who knows, he needs this right now. I know this because he goes in spurts. He's not been this attached at night in a long time. We went from waking 1-2 times a night to attached all night to waking 1-2 and then to attached and so on.
But during the phases where it is all night long, I seem to start losing my clarity. And sanity.
And I must keep my sanity. Especially now that I pulled the lovely Miss H out of preschool (flaky mom of the year award right here!).
Alas, just like the the Little Engine that Could, I will repeat a mantra over and over until it happens. And my mantra shall be, "I know he will eventually. I know he will eventually."
And the world can laugh at me when eventually turns to never.
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