The End of an Era

It's all over.

My daughter is a nursling no more, and she has now voluntarily gone enough days without getting her milk from the tap that I'm all dried up.
Now the boobs just sag because they're tired.
No more will I have to worry about leaking. No more ugly nursing bras. Okay, I'm glad about the nursing bras going away. I was thinking of burning them, but with all the money I spent, I just couldn't. I donated them instead.
But alas, this is our last child, and there's no turning back from that decision, thanks to a urologist and brave husband. I'm too old for more kids. We're too broke for more kids. The house is too small. The cars are too small. We're already running on empty with just two. The reasons go on and on.
But there's an element of sadness, of finality, of... SOMEthing that is unexplainable. I'll never be pregnant again. I'll never make milk again. The next infant relative that I'll hold in my arms - if ever - will most likely be a grandchild. That's a long, long way off.
This milestone was not met lightly on my part. I'd consider encouraging weaning, then would decide against it. I did this for months. Eventually, my daughter decided to make the decision for me. 19 months is enough mom, thanks. Dad can have them back now.
Now, a milestone that I'd love to reach is potty training. My previous entry explains why.

The Poop of the Matter

My daughter is 18 months old, and has decided that diapers aren't as much fun as baby powder. Unless...
Mother has put the baby powder away.
My son runs into the room and says "Sister has poo poo!" We're trying to potty train my 3-year old son, so I ask him if he has to poo poo as well. Nope. "Sister has poo poo on leg!" Uh oh.
I should have run screaming.
My daughter, happier than, well, than a pig in shit, had dug into her diaper and found this warm brown stuff that made perfect finger paint. She painted her legs with the stuff. She smeared it on her arms. It was all over the floor with little finger-painting swirls.
I picked up the little uh, turd, and took her straight to the tub. I stripped her onesie and considered just throwing it away. The diaper went immediately into the trash - worthless that it was.
I spent the next 20 minutes scrubbing my daughter down, using the rest of the bottle of baby wash and about 15 washcloths. I just left the tub drain open and the spigot on. Luckily she thought this was enormous fun and enjoyed shoving her disgusting shit-stained hands in the fresh water, actually helping me. She wasn't too happy that she wasn't allowed any toys for this bath though.

Future parents, be warned: Being a parent is probably the most disgusting job in the world. At least when you watch "Dirty Jobs", you can think to yourself "at least they have protective gear! Where's MY protective gear to pick up a shit-smeared baby?"