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Here I’m Breastfeeding my long legged one year old who can’t keep her feet to herself. Don’t get me wrong, I love baby toes as much as anyone. I draw the line at being kicked in the neck and chin repeatedly while breastfeeding. It detracts from the magical bonding… In my opinion.

As she grows I find it increasingly awkward to wrangle her in my lap. Just a few minutes ago she kicked over my entire cup of coffee. It dripped across the table and on to the floor as I sat back and watched, babe still attached.

She’s busy at the breast. Constantly trying to find something else to hold or play with. Last night she discovered that she could put her finger in her nose while nursing and she had a good laugh over it.

She’s the baby of the family, my third daughter, and is the biggest of the group.

Each day I try to remember that she’s only little once and that she will eventually sleep (in her own crib or bed) and be weaned.  Undoubtedly this is a bitter sweet occasion.

I look exhausted. I am exhausted.