A Farewell to Mil-mee

It's official - it's over. Clare is weaned.

She is three years and five months old. I have to admit there was a time there where I thought she may still be nursing at five. But I went away to a cabin for the weekend and I came back to a big girl who doesn't get mil-mee (her word for nursing - the perfect combination of Milk + Mommy).

I left the gang to go to the cabin on Friday afternoon. I didn't think Clare would freak out about me being gone until the wee hours of the morning when she woke up and wanted to be soothed back to sleep by nursing. But I got a phone call at about 6:30 Friday evening. Clare was beside herself crying,"I want mil-mee, I want mil-mee!" I told her I loved her and promised I'd snuggle her up when I got home, to which she responded, "I WANT MIL-MEE RIGHT NOW!"

Matt told me to tell her I'd let her have a little bit of mil-mee when I got home. When I protested (this was the event I had picked to make the clean break), he calmly said, "Hey, I'm doing whatever I have to do in order to get her through this weekend." So, I told her she could have a little when I got home.

The next morning, Matt told me on the phone that Clare woke up about five different times (all early in the morning) asking for mil-mee. Each time he would tell her there was no mil-mee and cuddle her up and she'd fall back asleep. Although that was a restless night, neither of them seemed to stressed out about it.

Interestingly enough, Saturday afternoon, I got really, really homesick. We had been having a great time, great friends, great food, great conversation, great games and all of the sudden I just got very sad and wanted to be with Matt and the kids. It passed, and I had a great evening there, but by Sunday morning, I was really ready to go home.

I talked to Matt as we were getting in the car to go home and he told me that Clare did great Saturday night. She woke up only once or twice and immediately cuddled up with Matt and fell back asleep. I was very unsure of what I was walking into when I got home. Part of me was afraid that she would beg me for mil-mee the minute I saw her. I was also scared that if I could fend her off during the day, I'd cave at night.

They all started screaming when I came to the front door. I heard Clare crying with joy as they unlocked it. I put down my stuff and yelled, "GUYS! Two nights is too long! I'm never leaving you again!" And everyone, and I mean everyone - Clare, Charlie, George and Matt piled on top of me on the living room floor. We hugged and kissed and rolled around saying how much we missed each other and then everyone got up and wandered off to do their own thing. Even Clare. She never mentioned mil-mee once.

At bedtime, I got ready to take her upstairs and she asked for it. I told her, "No honey, there is no more mil-mee," and she burst into tears. I told her I'd make her a sippy cup of milk and cuddle her up as long as she needed. Crying, she went up to bed with me. She asked if she could just have "one sip of mil-mee". I said no and she rolled over snuggled back into me and fell asleep. In the wee hours of the morning, she woke up and asked for mil-mee. When I denied her, she cried for a bit and fell back asleep. We replayed this seen a few more times and at one point she did try to reach down my shirt insisting,"Just one sip - I'll stop at the count of three!" But I had my ground and that was it.

Really. That was it. After three years and five months of nursing her, at least one year and five months of which were spent berating myself for still nursing her, it is all over. The fat lady has sung. That's all she wrote. No more mil-mee. Ever. I have to admit, I am a little sad. While happy that she transitioned so easily, I am surprised there was so little resistance. Hey, just because I can't nurse her anymore doesn't mean I can't snuggle bunny her up all the time right? George was nursed for one year, Charlie for just over two years and Clare for three years and five months. The end of an era. No more mil-mee. Who's gonna cuddle me up over this one?