Archive for February, 2009|Monthly archive page

Is there anything it can't do?

In Uncategorized on February 26, 2009 at 10:31 pm

As a mother to 3 boys and happily married to a man, I am knee deep in penises.  You would think that somewhere after D hitting the toddler years that I wouldn’t be so traumatized anymore when something penis related happens.  Furthermore, you’d think at 26 I’d be more mature.  Not so.  I don’t think I’ll ever see the day that my sons’ journeys of self discovery won’t make me scream and giggle like an idiot.  Tonight was just one more of those discoveries that a.) I wish that I wasn’t really a part of and b.) since I was, I’m so telling the first girl he brings home. 

It’s just me this evening so I got the daunting task of bathing D and the twins after dinner and putting them to bed.  The twins were sitting snug in their punkin seats while I bathed their older brother; squealing in delight at something up near the ceiling light or, quite possibly, just the light itself.  I mean, come on, at 8 months really anything is pretty damn cool.  As I’m telling D to stand up so I can wash his behind and his legs, I turn to coo at the twins and don’t here any movement that would indicate my son is listening to me. 

“D, what are you doing, will you stand up?”

“Shh…mommy, look.  *barely audible whisper* It’s fwimmin'”

I’m sorry, it’s swimming?! HA! What do you say to that?!  “Sure does, buddy!  It will also cause you embarrasment, pleasure, pain, and bug the hell out of your wife after the first few years of marriage*. High five!”

Sometimes you just have to use that whole smile and nod technique and hope that he loses interest in swimming apendages sooner rather than later. Boys…such an adventure.

*I’m just joking honey, I love you. You don’t bug me you big hunk of man, you!


"Oh…so that's what they're for!"

In Uncategorized on February 10, 2009 at 9:39 pm

When I was pregnant with my oldest, I couldn’t fathom nursing a baby.  Breasts were strictly an erotic weapon in my book but I agreed to nurse D for the first 6 months and pump milk to feed him via bottle as I didn’t want to hear it from my mother–in-law; a certified lactation consultant. 

It’s funny how you think you’ll know exactly how you’ll act and exactly what you’ll do before you push a tiny 7 lb. bundle out of your nether regions and drink in every ounce of their preciousness.  As soon as I saw D cuddle into my chest fresh from the womb, I was sold.  I nursed him then and I nursed him up until he self-weaned at 15 months, never using a bottle.  I occasionally got the sideways glance at a restaraunt or was the object of whispered conversations at the mall, but when D wanted to eat, I nursed, even if I was in the middle of watching Wedding Crashers at a movie theater between my husband and a large lumber jack type scarfing down nachos.  Overall, nursing D and taking him straight from the tap to a sippy cup was one of my finest parenting accomplishments.  With the stars having alligned so wonderfully for my first nursing experience, you can imagine how I eager I was to attempt my next great feat; nursing twins.

Let me tell you, I’m not sure if it’s because we’ve moved back to the midwest or because people are getting more nosey by the day but no one has sat back quietly as I’ve nursed our newest additions.  I have always used the gorgeous cover I bought from Hooter Hiders from when I was nursing D so it’s not like I’m sitting in public, nips flapping in the wind!  I nurse them one at a time amongst questions and unwanted suggestions.  My favorite was from a trip to the mall a few months ago:

Middle aged woman sitting in commons area shoving most of an Auntie Anne’s pretzel into her yap, some kind of dip dangling off the corner of her mouth:  “I see you’re (barely audible whisper) nursing.”

Sarah:  “Yep.  That I am.”

Middle aged woman, mouth completely full of pretzel:  “Well do you really think that’s appropriate?  I mean, we’re at a mall.”

Sarah, motioning to the woman’s 2nd pretzel:  “Well, yeah, I know but when you gotta eat you gotta eat, right?”

Woman:  “Well, yes, but in my day giving the illusion of revealing yourself was something reserved for  looser women, not mothers.”

Sarah:  “Wow, I wasn’t aware nursing was a form of harlottry.  I’ll have to share that with the hubby.  Maybe he’ll start to find the midnight nursing sessions sexy.”

Woman, disgusted look on her face:  “Hmm, yes, well I doubt he’d be very pleased if he knew his wife was shaking her goods around the mall for every other man to see.  Nothing’s sacred anymore in marriage, is it?”

Woman gets up and begins to walk off.

Sarah, calling after her, pissed beyond belief:  “Ya know, God intended these for nourishment, not so some dude could get his rocks off!”

Woman shudders and folds her arms, picks up the pace and is out of sight.

Sure, I caused a commotion, and C had even stopped nursing to watch his mommy defend his right to eat.  As I looked around, coming down off the adrenaline high that turning into a mama bear can give you, I realized more people were staring at me than I usually care for.  I began to regret raising my voice so loudly at big-mouth-double-pretzel-dip-lip until I gazed down at C who had happily latched back on and was once again enjoying his afternoon snack. 


I should have decked her.