Mommy Milestones

So I'm guessing that those of you who don't "know me know me", like you don't know where I live and haven't eaten "'my' award-winning beans" (yes, Dana, I stole those from you) at some party at our house or you don't know my high school class rank (1st, by the way), you are probably assuming from your reading in the last months/weeks/year/Idunno that I am pretty much a breastfeeding, babywearing, bed sharing, attachment parenting hippie momma. To some degree you're right.
I fret over the use of a pacifier. I worry about Zane's psyche and trust/abandonment/attachment issues if I let him cry a little too long (but, seriously, a girl's gotta poop *sometime*). I'm not sure the bath/diapering/wipes products we use are "natural" enough for him. I really think hard about when (if?) I can start using reusable diapers (jeez, those things are expensive. . .). And I am drug down into misery at the thought of leaving him.
Any conversation between my DH and I about leaving Zane has turned into a hormonal, blubbering, sobbing mess for me until this weekend. (Fortunately, my DH knows me well enough not to press the issue--I'll come around in my own time) I was terrified that Z would be inconsolable without the boobie nearby. That he would have nipple confusion and never nurse again. That he would like the bottle more than me. The he would no longer need me. Ugh, my heart is breaking all over again just thinking about this. . .sigh.
Moving on. . .
Perhaps someone sprinkled magical fairy dust over me while I (haha) slept this weekend. . .perhaps it's because Z is a month old and a big boy and looks more like he can take care of himself. Who knows. . . Somehow I sucked it up and dug out the breast pump and read the instructions

*side note* I am honestly not trying to see how many times I can use the word "breast" in this post. I honestly grew up knowing not to use the word in polite conversation. Like "penis" or "vagina". Something about pregnancy and having a boy threw all those niceties out the window. But don't worry, I promise no posts about circumcision and no pics with his pee pee (too embarrassing later on in life. . .or maybe, if I need some ammunition. . .) *end side note*

and I figured out how to pump (after all the sterilizing and steaming and cleaning, etc etc etc). So I gathered my meager two ounces, handed the bottle to my unsuspecting husband and got out of visual range of the kid and had my DH feed Z with a bottle.

I didn't implode. I didn't begrudge my husband this opportunity to feed our son. I didn't even cry.

For the first time Z seemed to take the situation at hand worse than I did.

He really tried to eat from this "new boobie" thing that his daddy was offering him, and he even convinced my DH that he was eating like a champ (until I pointed out that it was all leaking out of the other side of his mouth). We managed to frustrate the heck out of the kid and then gave up for the night and went back to nursing (no confusion, no problems with latch or lazy sucking).

Of course, Zane gave me this evil "why'd you do that to me, mommy" look. He's already mastered the "shut up, lady, and give me the boobie" look. This was one step further.

So I'm one step closer to actually going out to dinner with my husband. At some point. Not tonight. Or tomorrow, even though it is our fourth anniversary.

But sometime in the future, I am almost ready to leave my little guy. We have to figure out how to get him to actually *eat* using the bottle, so he doesn't get more frustrated than just feeling abandoned when we are gone. (Like my rhetoric there? "abandoned" Jeez, thank goodness my DH is normal and not a freakshow)

So this is a step in the direction of not being a super hovering mother, I hope. I know there's no rush to leave my newborn, and I'm sure I will poll all of my friends again about when they left their kiddos for the first time and what they did and how the kids did and if their children ever forgave them, etc etc etc before we actually go out on our own again. But I'm in no hurry. The Z-Man is a party in himself and a lot of fun. We even went out to a restaurant last Friday with him with minor objection. (Yeah, I got to breastfeed in public at a restaurant for the first time and I was daring, DARING anyone to say anything to me about my right to whip it out in public. (Of course, I covered up--what kind of nipple-showing weirdo do you think I am??))

But this was a mommy milestone. I know there will be many, many more. Fortunately, my DH balances me perfectly so our son will not end up like a total pansy fraidy cat momma's boy.

And that's all the time I've got today. The little man calls.