Dear God, why did I not use a burping cloth? I had one on the chair! I was so distracted that I just didn’t remember how great I felt when I wrote that last post:
1: my little cherub slept for over six (yes SIX, almost SEVEN) hours last night, holy shit. By the bold/capitalized font you can tell that’s a huge deal
2: the amount of boob leakage I woke up to rivaled anything in my worst nightmare. I thought the cat peed in the bed until I looked at my shirt. Is there a way to bottle it in my sleep?
So now here I sit, my little darling eating on the other side, in horror. Absolute horror. I can feel it down the back of my tank top, down the front somehow, slowly staining the glider we’re sitting in and, of course, sticking to him. With that warm, milky smell and… Oh great, that’s poop. Yeah that definitely smells like shit, that’s why he’s not eating great. Oh, God.