it's a jungle in here

OK, I'm over feeling as if blogging, at least the kind that I do, is just too narcissistic for words. Once more with feeling...
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We've had a few of those weeks where everything changes, just goes up a notch. Part of it has to do with the fact that I had to wean Harley fairly early, at around five-and-a-half months. Wean him onto the bottle, I mean. There was just suddenly no more milk. I hate the expression 'the milk dried up' because it makes me feel like an old heifer. But that's essentially what happened, I guess. I had a sudden urge to buy formula, he had one last frustrating breastfeed and then we stopped completely.
There's mixed emotions. It's another one of those wistful separations a mother has from her child, because breastfeeding is surely one of the most enjoyable things in life. Now that it's ended, I feel we're both a little lost at mealtimes. The bottle is so inanimate, mechanical, hard.
But on the other hand, there's a few advantages. As my sister moaned the other day, breastfeeding is a prison. Now, or in the future potentially, Harley could be babysat while I had a night out. A date, even (fancy that!).
Harley had lost a bit of weight in my final few weeks of breastfeeding too, so it's nice to see the millilitres going down in a bottle. I also quite like the ritual of preparing bottles, the whole rigmarole that goes with it. I daydream a lot while doing it.
I've encountered a little resistance from my parents, who have their own views on things. The expression 'deadset against' springs to mind. My mother runs little campaigns about things. Phone calls to discuss it further. Emailed transcripts of pertinent radio programs. She acts as though giving formula is like giving junk-food, like Coke in a bottle or something. It's not exactly clear what her idea of an alternative is, though. She's in favour of breastmilk, but as I've got no milk, we're at a bit of an impasse.
Apart from all this, things have been manic as Harley is suddenly so much more aware (and adorable!) than before. He's more and more fun to play with. But the housekeeping part of the job seems a bit extreme all of a sudden. I'm basically moving all day long and by the early evening I can't sit down or I can't get up again. Lately I've caught myself thinking, god, how come nobody told me it was going to be this hard? but of course everyone did and I'm still loving it, so it's OK. Hard, but OK.