As just punishment for my having been shamelessly sentimental about the weaning process, my boobs have decided to make my waking hours utterly miserable. That's right - classic weaning complications, complete with engorgement, plugged ducts and I think even masititis (a few days ago I had fever, chills, nausea and a desire to just lay down and never move a muscle again). At the moment, I've resorted to stuffing my bra with cabbage leaves to shut down the milk factory.
K, however, is doing well and has never looked back. Ah, c'est la vie!