Honestly, I've been feeling a bit like Supermom the last few weeks. Granted it's Supermom by my standards that are, let's face it, not terribly high. But Quake is getting to preschool mostly on time. I'm almost done Christmas shopping. I take a shower almost every day. And despite some moments of panic at 7pm, no one in the house has had to wear dirty clothes in the morning because Mommy didn't get the laundry done.
There's a huge list of things that aren't getting done, but I'm focusing on the positive. The positive says I'm a Supermom!
Then Thursday afternoon Cha-Cha started to get fussy. He napped fitfully. By the time I got dinner on the table, he was screaming non-stop. Monkey Man and I took turns pacing with him for about 30 minutes before Monkey Man asked if he could make up a bottle of formula. I agreed, convinced the child wouldn't take the bottle because he wouldn't take the breast, ergo he must not be hungry.
Or...I could be running on empty.
Cha-Cha sucked down 4 ounces of formula in about 2 minutes and then drifted off into an exhausted sleep. I was devestated. Once I got the hang of the breastfeeding thing with Quake, I could have fed a village. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't be producing enough milk for Cha-Cha.
Clamping down tears, I asked my mil what could possibly be wrong. She looked me straight in the eye and said, "You're doing too much." From a woman who generally seems to think I'm a lazy bum, that's a kicker. So I'm hanging up my cape and declaring an end to my Supermom days. I'm busy feeding my baby...