Zombies, feminists and breastmilk

Lack of sleep does something funny to a person.

It makes you a little silly, a lot grumpy and you basically start seeing connections and overlaps in places where there shouldn't be any.

Take for example my recent rant to my husband involving one of my favorite Virginia Woolf essays - A Room of One's Own. In the event you're not familiar with it, this was a lengthy essay Woolf wrote which not only commented on the bias and completely immoral education and opportunity gaps between men and women in her time, but ultimately painted a picture that perhaps women weren't simply equal to men, but that there were things we could do even better than men, simply because of our womanhood. She was a feminist without the pushiness of Gertrude Stein and I ate up any and every thing she wrote.

Fast forward to my current life, a mother of two children, a toddler who can run on little to no sleep and a one-week-old son that can't keep his mouth off of my boob while in a 10ft radius of me.

And let's not forget a husband that essentially sounds like a train or tractor while sleeping at night. I'm serious. His snoring has become so utterly terrible lately that I envision myself sticking at least 15 breathe-right strips to his face a night (even if they don't provide relief they will make me laugh).

If I'm not nudging my husband and pleading with him to roll over on his side (which, in his defense, I know he's not doing this on purpose, but in my defense, it doesn't make it any less distracting or rage-inducing), I've got a little fish-faced baby boy glued to my nipples every two hours or so.

During one of my late night meltdowns bonding sessions, I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, Virginia Woolf wasn't being abstract and artistic when penning her essay, but perhaps she simply wanted a room of her own - literally.

I mean it obviously wouldn't make for a very lengthy or meaningful essay, but I have a feeling if Woolf would have spent one minute in my bedroom this last week she'd feel pretty compelled to write A Room of One's Own. 

Feminist work or ramblings of a breastfeeding, sleep-deprived mother and wife of a human tractor? You be the judge.

And while we're talking about breastfeeding, it only seems natural to touch base on the topic of zombies. I'm not going to lie, part of me is enjoying every second of my experience with Braeburn because I had a drastically different one with Pearyn. My little girl had more than a few issues when it came to breastfeeding, from latching to pooping.

So the fact that it's going seemingly well with our son is super exciting to me. I can't help but feel like we're raising a little member of the undead. Only instead of wanting to eat my brains, he's constantly going after my boobs. I can barely hold the little big guy without him trying to desperately suck off some random piece of my body.

But all and all, it's magical. It's frustrating and confusing and it doesn't really allow for much sleep, rest or me time, but I can't help wondering what we did before we became a family of four.

Of course, I've had my husband home with me for an entire week now, it might be worth asking me how I feel about it all next week, once he's gone back to work.

You also might like:
How to raise little men and women
When is a kitchen just a kitchen: part one


  1. I loved reading this post, and love your blog in general! I am also a vegan mum with a little girl nearly 3 and a baby boy just over a month. My little boy is also, well, a big boy so is constantly feeding ... I get the zombie thing as well as the sleep deprivation :)

  2. Life with two can be so hard at first, but you'll get the hang of it. You might miss those easy errand days back when you only had one though!