The world, it turns out (who knew, eh?) is not supportive of breastfeeding. The Pumpkin goes to a quite excellent daycare. However, last week they suggested he needs formula. HE WEIGHS 22 POUNDS!!!! He's fine. I'll send more soy yogurt for food backup (he will actually eat most things until he horks, so the sad-hungry-baby noises are not such a good indication, people).
Also, work is forcing me to take my vacation time when I run out of sick leave (which happened about three months ago). We are not amused. Some days, I don't know how much longer I want to be working. Some days, I do know, and it's a very small number. Most days, I just feel incredibly conflicted that I cannot be all things to all people.
Every time the kid gets sick, it's an enormous strain. We both have to take off work. I usually have to leave in the middle of the day on no notice, because only one car. I have to cancel all my meetings and calls with people across the country; I have to reschedule them. He wakes up at 3 AM. We want to die. We are tired and cranky, and then we have to work on the weekends to make up for taking care of sick infant. Then we are more tired and cranky. It would be easier, in a lot of ways, to stay home, but I think (in this particular situation) that I would go insane.
Aaaaaaagh.
