All right Internet (hi Zach!) — you’re my witness. At lunch today, I decided I’m going to give up sugar for a week. This is going to be monumentally difficult for me because I’m a sugar fiend. This morning I ate a slice of whole wheat toast, a hard-boiled egg and five Girl Scout cookies for breakfast. Do you see what I’m up against?

I’ve decided that my general guideline is going to be, don’t eat anything that’s obviously sugar. That means:

• no desserts
• no sugar
• no honey
• no juice or pop
• no jelly, jam or chutney
• no foods with sugar or corn syrup in the first three ingredients

I’m not going to be super-psychotic about this. Fruit is going to be OK and if a salad dressing or something has some hidden corn syrup in it, I’ll eat it. I’ve also decided that the cereal we usually buy (Puffins and Cheerios) is OK.

I’m anticipating that this is going to be a major struggle, particularly when it comes time for me to make my morning cup of tea. I really like that with sugar.

Wish me luck, Internet — we still have Girl Scout cookies left.

Today I sent Wyatt off to day care in red sweat pants and a rust-colored sweater. This outfit was his choice. Zach and I both tried to convince him to wear a different colored sweater, but Wyatt was adamant about the rust one so we gave in. My logical mind won this battle, but my emotional mind is still smarting hours later. I know it doesn’t matter. I know he needs to be able to make these choices. I know he needs to assert his independence, but I can’t stand that my little cutie went off to day care clashing so much and here’s the reason why: I know that someone is judging me. They’re thinking, “That kid’s mother doesn’t know that red and rust don’t go together.” But I’m not there, so I can’t even defend myself.

So just for the record Internet: I know that red and rust don’t match.

I’m sick and whiny tonight and I’m angry that I’m sick and whiny.

The week before last, I was off work for four days with bronchitis. It was pretty dreadful and stressful too because things are pretty busy for me at work right now and I’m completely out of sick days. I got back to work last week and managed to slog through the days, but my cough was still lingering. I finally started to feel better this weekend, but then yesterday I woke up with a sore throat.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

So here I am, feeling like crap and worried that I’m going to have to miss another week of work if I get strep. So yeah — blar.

I found this on my computer a few days ago. It was written almost exactly a year ago now:

Wyatt and I stopped nursing this weekend. It was the right time. I attended a conference at the beginning of the week and my mornings were so rushed that I didn’t have time to nurse. When the conference was over though, it didn’t really make sense to start nursing again – we’d already made it through two days and I’d been planning to finish weaning soon anyway, so it was just the kick in the pants I needed to finish things up.

I’m sad though. I didn’t plan the exact date to stop, so I wasn’t quite prepared for it. And because I didn’t plan, I didn’t know our last time nursing was our last time. I was in a rush and I tried to hurry Wyatt along. If I’d known, I would have taken it slower – savored it. I wouldn’t have rushed Wyatt. “Take as long as you like, Little Buddy.” Our last time nursing would have been a little sweeter.

I’ve been thinking about nursing the last few days. I had so many fears about it before Wyatt was born. What if he rejects the breast? What if he rejects the bottle? Will it hurt? What if he can’t get a proper latch?!?! But it all worked out. The first few weeks were hard and it hurt like crazy. Wyatt sucked so hard that he bruised my nipples and made them bleed. But then, suddenly, all the pieces fell into place for both of us and it just worked. And it was great. We were so close. It was just how it should be between a mama and her baby. Sometimes I’d get impatient and feel tied down because he nursed for so long (45+ minutes at a time) and sometimes I’d feel like it was all give and no take. But it was also a special time that we shared – just the two of us. When I was at work, I knew we’d get to re-connect again while we nursed. If he was sad or hurt or frustrated I knew I could stop his cries and make everything OK again. And when he popped off to smile at me with a big, gummy grin I wanted to save the moment and never, ever forget how good it felt that this wonderful, sweet, special boy – my baby, my Wyatt – loved me.