Charlie and I are scheduled to be on our way to a breastfeeding class / support group for moms who have returned to work, but ha ha ha ha ha to me thinking I was going to have Charlie on the metro by 8:45 am on a Saturday. We’ve both been awake since his diaper started leaking all over us at 7:15, but I did not have the will of the warrior this morning, and could not transfer that pee-emergency energy towards getting us out of the house. I’m nearly a month into this nursing-related injury, and the upshot is that by the time I’m done working, I’m too tired and cranky to haul our cookies downtown to see about fixing it anymore. Also, at 7 1/2 months old, this kid has four damned teeth. I want to nurse him until at least his first birthday, as is recommended. But I may need to see about just pumping and bottle-feeding or something. I tried to enact that new plan while Charlie was bouncing off the walls this morning, but Charlie was not pleased about being left in the crib. Then I got as far as plugging the pump in before realizing that the bottles and pumping accoutrement were still soaking in a bin in the sink. Charlie and I went to the kitchen to wash & dry the necessary accessories. Then Charlie was hungry, and I didn’t have what it takes to prep a bottle, so we went back to injurious breastfeeding. If only there were some sort of monthly support group led by a certified lactation specialist to help me navigate this complicated time in my life. Wait– damn.