How to wean a breastfeeding baby: Do zero prep. Lie to people caring for your child about the amount of prep done. Go to Vegas.
Ok. So if this isn’t clear: I did no prep work for weaning my second. I was pregnant or nursing for almost 4 years straight so when my daughter turned one: I was DONE.
So I dropped my kids off in Michigan with their grandparents and met two girlfriends in Vegas. Things could have not been more fun: we saw shows, drank, danced, slept in, basically the perfect girls trip minus the leaky boobs.
We stay a beautiful hotel the first night. I was feeling a bit guilty about doing this trip, so decided to downgrade my hotel for the second night (my friends took a red eye back & I was on my own 2nd night).
This is where things get weird. The 2nd hotel is the stuff of nightmares. It’s like a sadness convention and trashy convention were happening simultaneously. I check in (which takes 2 hours) & go to my room. Don’t have a breast pump with me (long story) and have to hand express into some plastic hotel cups. Just when I’m feeling like the winningest winner around I hear a LOUD banging on the door and someone yelling “Let us in!” Not from the outside BUT THE ADJOINING DOOR!! I was frozen. Couldn’t say a word. Hand on boobs. Ready to fight them off like the fembots from Austin Powers but with breast milk. I finally manage to yell something like, “Wrong Door.” and they apologize. I start to calm down and then it happens again. I yell something incoherent and start making an exit plan. I wait a few minutes and then sprint towards the stairs. I run like they are chasing me (they are not) & finally make it to the front desk.
To make matters worse as I’m running I realize: if there is a Law & Order SVU based on my death at this seedy hotel that Christopher Meloni would not even be a god damn detective in the episode.
At the front desk I explain my situation they give me an “upgrade” to the “less likely to get murdered suite” and I stay up all night thinking about things I should of yelled things like: “I know karate” or “I have a machine gun.”
In retrospect they were probably just drunk kids getting the doors mixed up but I’ve watched enough crime shows to take no chances.
So that’s how I weaned my daughter. It wasn’t always pretty but it worked. I also learned that my own money issues caused this fiasco. I could of stayed in the other hotel. I mean really what was I saving $50 at most. I didn’t because of my own guilt. Guilt that was self-imposed. So when it’s come to guilt I will take a lesson from that cold hearted bitch Elsa and just let it go. Life’s too short to feel bad for having fun and wanting to stay in hotel that isn’t made from sadness & full of potential murders.