// Miss USA is from Rhode Island//

Duh, us pretty girls with big brains and total talent are all cluttered on this cluster fuck of an island. 

SMALLEST STATE PRIDE BITCHES. 

Rhody For LIFE. 

I’m officially finished 

// Painting your nails while chasing after a crawler is semi-impossible.//

On another, more positive note, the asshole mowing the lawn next door AT NINE AM only woke Owen up from his nap sixteen thousand times. 

I am going to see ANNA-MARION and her ADORBS little guy, Logan today!

I am officially 145 lbs. I am six-feet tall if you were really curious, yeah I know, a mother fucking giant, but whatever. A month ago, I was 175 lbs. Unhealthy? Um, yes, quite. 

But Owen and I are going out to dinner with friends tonight so let’s see if they can bully us into eating some disgustingly greasy Chinese food. 

Enjoy your Sunday ladies and gents!

// So I said I would write this post, and shockingly enough, I procrastinated.//

Why? Because it’s something I’m embarrassed to say. 

Sometimes I hate breast-feeding. 

This isn’t about preaching, or condemning, because I don’t believe that one’s decision on how to feed a child is the only defining moment as a good parent. This is just my personal experience and how my struggles and achievements have defined Owen’s first year. 

Nursing has been a challenge from hour one. Owen favored one breast, nursed for 40 minutes on each side , and on day one, chose to feast on boobs for EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT. I was exhausted. For five months we were never apart, and yet I had to pump daily to start a supply for going back to school. I was always hungry, and never losing weight like every book told me I would, because feeding another human is just an exhausting feat. Owen slept in my bed, (still does), because he wakes up every three hours for what we’ll call a quick “sip”. Breastfeeding now consists of being kicked and bit and having my hair pulled and face grabbed and some days I come really close to yelling and throwing in the towel. 

But for some sad reason, I can’t. 

Yes, breastfeeding is often times sucktastic. (HAHA I’m so PUNny), but I’ve made the commitment to stick with it for a year, so I’m really going to try for these last three months. 

I tribute breastfeeding to Owen never being sick or colicky, or having reflux after I cut out all dairy, and it was just the obvious choice financially. Dr. Sear’s totally influenced my way of parenting, and believe you me, attached Owen certainly is. 

Am I right to raise him this way? Who knows. More positives than negatives? I would like to think so. You can call this an “unpopular opinion”, but this isn’t meant as discouragement, this is just my version of reality. These past nine months of nursing have been harder than pregnancy, but I wouldn’t change a thing.