Bitesize Chicken Nuggets

Little chicks do indeed grow very fast. Before you know it, they are already pecking away for their expectant meals. Cheep, cheep, cheep! Peck, peck, peck! They may be little, but little teeth hurt too! The rule in my henhouse, if you peck, you're done. It's not open for discussion. The first time I laid down chicken law, the little chick cried real tears. He hollered for a minute, stunned, that I had said no and taken away the chickenfeed. Then, after a few very difficult minutes, he calmed. I won't say there still aren't times when he pecks, particularly when he's teething, but I stick to chicken law. No pecking. No scratching. Or no chickenfeed. There are still a few tears from time to time, but we get along much better here in the chicken house, and the breast piece is no more for the wear.

Late Night Feedings

Every new mother braces herself for late night feedings. We expect them. We dread them. Night after night we somehow manage to pull ourselves out of bed and respond to the starving cries that invade our very short periods of restful slumber.

There are times when I would gladly trade anything I could think of for just one good night's sleep. Despite the incredible sleep deprivation and fatigue, these late night feedings have quickly become my most favorite time of day.

I sit in the rocking chair and cradle a small little person who is crying because he's hungry. He's screaming full steam ahead, yet his eyelids are squeezed shut and he doesn't even seem to be awake yet. His small mouth is moving ninety miles an hour as he snuggles up against my chest to nudge me closer to him faster. A few seconds later, he latches on and settles down instantly. The tension that had his legs and arms clenched just minutes prior, disappears and he relaxes into the nook of my arm.

I yawn and try to keep my eyes open, though I find myself struggling not to nod back to sleep too. I look down at his tiny warm body and notice how quiet and calm he looks. This is the only time of the day when he nurses without looking all around, kicking his legs, pulling at my shirt, tugging on my hair and my necklace, or struggling to get a better view of some other object that caught his attention.

This is our quiet time together. Just us.

As I rock steadily, I watch him. He nurses quietly. He finishes quickly. He unlatches his lips and lets out a very satisfied sigh. He tosses his little head backward and is already soundly sleeping.

Gently, I stand up and set him back down in his crib. I position his favorite blankie in his hand. Five tiny fingers fasten around the blankie as he snuggles the familiar fabric up against his cheek. A smile spreads across his face. I imagine he is off to dreamland somewhere very far away.

Dreamland. What a wonderful notion. I miss it.

Yet, for right now, the child of my dreams is more than worth a few dreamless nights.

The Real Chicken Dance

The real chicken dance is what a busy mother does all day long...run around like her head's cut off. Da, na, na-na, na-na, na...

Fried Chicken

It's after midnight and I'm completely fried. The henhouse never seems to close when you're breastfeeding. Yet, when the little chicks are finally asleep I do enjoy taking in a few moments of silence. I can hear them breathe. They're really cute. All snuggled up in their cozy nests. I find myself smiling, but not too big of a smile. I'll be up again LONG before the rooster crows. Yeah, but being a Mother Hen really is pretty great. Would you do me a favor? Remind me of that around 3:30 am and then again at 5 am.

The Breast Piece: Which Came First the Chicken or the Egg?

As I look down at my happily nursing son, I do indeed feel like a Mother Hen. I may never know which came first- the chicken, or the egg. However, in my crazy cooped up adventures in breastfeeding, there are times when I certainly feel like a fastfood drive-thru window ladling up a heaping serving of, well, me. Then, I pause and remind myself quietly that I'm giving my baby the Breast Piece!