Ya’ll, we have Situation going on in Casa Lezbemoms. There is a full-scale, outright War going on. And this war is nothing quiet, or simple. We don’t have the Cold War going on over here, everyone glowering at everyone daring everyone to make a move. We have active war going on. We have World War Three, and it’s happening in my bedroom.
The war started out small, but has grown to a size where virtually the whole household is involved (not Thing One. Thing One is Switzerland. And oblivious). My son is the general of the Aggressing Side. Mommy is on the Defending Side, with her close Ally Mama, and Mommy’s boobs and access to them are the incendiary Assets over which the epic fights break out. Sleep and Mommy’s Sanity are prisoners of war. The puppy is the General’s ally.
When battle breaks out [time: 0200 hours], it goes like this: In the middle of the night, under cover of darkness, the General’s troops advance. Before the Defending Side knows what is happening, the General’s forces swoop in and take possession of the Assets. He uses and abuses them (in some violation of some sort of International Code for Mother’s Boobs’ Rights, I’m sure). He twists and turns, nurses, coos, giggles, performs acrobatics, and makes general unacceptable use of the Assets… all at two in the morning. The General is relentless and the Assets are used and tormented for hours on end [time: 0300 hours. time elapsed: an hour.]
All too soon, the Defending Side realizes its peril. Perhaps it is the pain of a twisted nipple, or the general wear-and-tear of hours upon hours of constant nursing that alerts her. Whichever the case, once she becomes aware, the Defending Side acts in swift motion to reclaim the Assets. Coming up with a battle plan, she aggressively acts to take back what is hers and protect the Assets. Usually, she is able to quickly reclaim them, though occasionally she makes a call to her Ally, Mama. [time: 0315 hours].
The General’s war cry rings out across the room. Howling, he tells the world of his defeat. His howls alert his furry Ally of his peril, who, once awakened, joins in on the chorus [time: 0330 hours. time elapsed: one and one-half hours of battle. in the middle of the night.]. The Defenders act quickly to silence the furry Ally (usually a mini walk outside and a pee break will do the trick- the General should reconsider his choice of Allies or bribe them more highly than we do), though the General is not as easily silenced. Some nights, his war cry reverberates throughout the house for HOURS. Other nights, he feels his defeat acutely and his war cry changes to a cry of defeat as sullenly, he rolls over to fall asleep. Don’t be fooled. The Defending Side must remain alert for the prospect of re-attack, and never think that the General isn’t using his sleeping time to plot his next attack. If not tonight, the next night.
Though the Defenders have several times attempted to negotiate the cessation of hostilities, the General’s side remains strong and stalewort. Negotiations in general have gotten nowhere. The Battle rages on. The Prisoners of War, Sleep and Mommy’s sanity, are losing any hope of a rescue. [time:0600 hours. the whole. damn. night.].
The situation looks Bleak.
I will write more from the front lines as the War allows. Pray for me.