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Last Drops of Breastmilk
All day at Dev’s volleyball tournament, without Little Man, means another step closer to the end of my breastfeeding experiences. Trust me, I am aware that I’ve been blessed with more than my fair share of this bonding with my children…that’s right, five kids for a total of eleven years of nursing! Wow. Doing the math is an eye-opener! That means that I have been nursing children for MORE than a quarter of my life.
Still, the finality of it all is a little overwhelming. While I am looking forward to some “freedom” – I am also pretty sad, since this is my last child. I’ve been slowly trying to wean him…from several times a day (pretty much whenever he demanded a booby and cuddle), to just a few times a day, to only once per day, and then there’s this coming weekend. This President’s weekend will be my first-ever, full weekend away from either of our youngest children. As a matter of fact, the last time I was away from any of my kids this long was when I flew out to North Carolina to get my tubes untied, so that we could have these last two maniac midgets!
I’m nervous. I’m worried about AD…and I’m worried about his daddy, who will be caught in the storm of my absence. I’m also excited. I’m anxious to be able to focus all my attention on Dee Dee, and enjoy a full weekend, just she and I, cheering her on during her three-day volleyball tournament at OSU. Our older kids have made some sacrifices since the little guys came along. Don’t get me wrong, they love their younger brothers, but sometimes they also want my undivided attention. When they make a great play and look up to make sure I saw it…but I’m chasing after a two knuckleheads instead. That happens a lot.
So I am currently, and barely, producing my last few drops of breastmilk. I can barely still feel the “let down” as my supply continually decreases and, soon, will end. Bittersweet indeed. I’m sure I will cry once it’s all over…but for now, I’ll look forward to my weekend with my baby girl.
IMO…That’s NOT Beyonce and Jay Z’s Baby, Ya’ll!
I came into this world just as pink as could be…and I have pretty much stayed that way, as hard as I have tried to bronze myself in the summer sun, for the entirety of my caucasian life! My husband, well, he’s a different story. He came into the world, to a very confused and suspicious, black mother who thought her baby had been switched with an Indian child, with very light skin and a headful of STRAIGHT, silky black hair. What’s so strange about that? Well, nothing to those of us who know that children of African-American heritage can be born one shade (skin and eyes) and can take up to several months to “darken up” as my husband’s side of the family puts it.
I saw the pictures tonight. You know, THE pictures of Little Miss Blue Ivy Carter. My first thought was – “Wow! What a beautiful child!” My second thought, and I did feel a little badly about it but I’m going to be honest about it anyway, was – “Whew! That little girl lucked out comin’ out looking like her mama!” Never did it cross my mind to question the DNA of this precious baby girl. Never did I wonder if the pictures were staged, using another person’s baby. Never did I question whether the pregnancy was faked and that this, in fact was an adopted baby. Never.
In My Opinion:
I have to say, I am shocked by the ignorance so blatantly displayed in comment after comment below Blue Ivy’s first publically released photos. It’s not just white folks either, it’s a lot of people flashing their ugliness for the world to see. Really? First of all, I doubt that either Jay Z nor Beyonce give a flying fart about whether anyone believes this little girl is really theirs! Seriously. Secondly, why would she fake a pregnancy when celebs adopt all the time, and there is no shame in doing so? Lastly, and for all those who really just didn’t know:
Black/biracial children can, and often do, get darker complected as the weeks go by. Their hair can, and often does, change texture – even up into puberty and beyond. Their eyes, just as with white babies, can be a steely blue at birth and then eventually change to the color decided by their DNA later on. All five of our children were born with dark brown eyes, and they stayed that way. All five of ours were born with thick, STRAIGHT, jet black hair – and that changed in all five of them! One has thick and super curly, two have bigger ringlets, and two have barely a wave. Even now, our oldest son’s hair is changing again as he’s becoming a man. Their hair also lightened a shade from jet black to dark brown, and their skin (that started pink, like mine) darkened between just olive to true tan – and I remain the only pink person in our home!
Blue Ivy is their baby, People! Just congratulate the new family and mind your own business for crying out loud!
Sugar Water

My boys won’t sleep…so I get none either. They get up at least twice each, per night. They’ve been sharing the bottom bunk because D’Lo is afraid to sleep in the (very short) top bunk by himself, and they take turns crawling into our bed all night. I’m exhausted.
Their pediatrician suggested giving them melatonin prior to bedtime to help them sleep better, it’s a natural solution and it’s worth a try. Since all I had were tablets, I decided to do that old trick my own mama used to pull on us with aspirin back in the day- smashing it into a fine powder, putting it into a teaspoon full of sugar, and adding water to create a really nasty, gritty sweet spoonful.
Just a spoon-full of sugar helps the medicine go down…right?
As we moved upstairs to brush teeth and give flouride, D’Lo stopped suddenly and looked at me with his sparkling, brown eyes…
“Mama, I got something I need to tell you.” He declared
“What, Baby? What do you have to tell me?” I asked, giving my full attention since my four-year-old has never made an announcement like this before.
“I really don’t like that sugar water!” He said, and then, pulling both hands up, he continued by making a point as he tapped each of his four left-hand fingers with his right, index finger:
“I don’t like it in the morning…” counting his left pinky.
“I don’t like it at night-time…” as he moved to his ring finger.
“I don’t like it at Christmas…” tapping his middle finger
aaannnd (thinking hard about how to used his index finger)
“I don’t like it at the lake!”
The good news is that I think they make this stuff in a liquid, the bad news is…oh wait, there is no bad news. The other good news is that both boys are asleep, in their own beds!
Oh Sweet Lord, while there is nothing I want more that to see their sweet faces in the morning…PLEASE let it be in the morning!



















