I have been a whirlwind of productivity this past week. Well, for me, at least. Packed away many boxes for storage, packed away many more for donation or selling, and tossed out a bunch of stuff that we don't need and can't be donated. Removing one small bookshelf from out living room has made it look about twice as big.
Now that we're fixing the house up at a much faster rate, I'm starting to love it all over again. Funny how that works. We put up sheer curtains in the downstairs, and all the light down there is amazing. It's half the reason we liked the house in the first place.
There's still so much to do, but now that a few things are out of the way, I'm less anxious.
I nursed Emmy for the last time the other night. It was sad, I may have teared up a little bit, but it's also a bit of a relief. I love nursing, but when each feeding becomes a battle, it ceases to be a sweet bonding experience. I mostly blame the Unisom for the sudden demise of my supply. We were getting three feedings a day before I started taking it, and the morning after I took it the first time, I could only manage two. Still, being able to sleep and feel human and enjoy my children far outweighs the negatives.
I also blame her insatiable curiosity. Even before my supply started going downhill, getting her to eat in less than an hour was becoming a struggle. If there's anything even remotely interesting going on in the room, she whips her head around every three seconds to see what it is. Bottles don't have nerve endings or a need to wait a bit for letdown.
So, it's not all bad, but I'm still sad.
Speaking of sleep, I've gotten a solid 8-9 hours every night for the last week and a half. It's amazing. No more waking up three times a night and waiting to go back to sleep (seriously, it was like having a newborn again--except without all the happy hormones). I sometimes even wake up on my own before Emmy even starts to cry.
I haven't written because things are just crazy between the house and two very mobile children. Emmy's increasing mobility (she's cruising already, folks) doesn't just mean having to look after another kid. It also means a lot more intervention between her and Grace. Admittedly, there's not as much of that as there could be. Grace knows that she must not hurt Emmy.
It's pathetically hilarious. Several times a day, I come into the room after hearing Grace scream, and I find her backing into a corner, The Dreaded Emmy intent on chewing her toes or stealing her toy. Grace won't hit her or push her to keep her away, so she just stands there and cries, poor thing. Imagine being bullied by an eight-month-old. If anyone has any solutions for me, I'd be glad to hear them. I don't know how to teach a toddler that there are appropriate ways of defending yourself against smaller siblings. She can't really climb onto chairs well, so getting to higher ground isn't an option. I don't want her to think that she can only ever run from Emmy, either.
It's going to be a long day today, and I need to get moving. Jeremy's going to be working outside all day, so I should probably get my carcass in gear.