Thursday, August 15, 2013

I'm typing with my thumbs again. Life's been rough. On a positive note, the girls are now done with their 8am speed and agility camp. You know, the one that was forty minutes away. 

I sat in a coffee shop nursing Cinco and reading a fairly predictable book. I was engrossed and didn't really notice the lady approach me. She had to touch my arm to get my attention.

When you're out in public with a baby, you get approached. It's a fact of life. People ooh and ahhh and tell you your baby is beautiful. And you nod and wonder why people are telling you things you already know.

 So I wasn't surprised that I was approached. However, I was taken aback by what she said. "I'm so glad you're breastfeeding your baby" Erm....ok. That's a new one. It took me five kids to get to this point. I guess they have actually run out of things to say about my baby herself and have to go to how she eats.

The the lady wasn't done yet. She continued "I just wish you didn't feel that you have to cover up. What you're doing is beautiful and you shouldn't feel ashamed." Did not see that coming.

Now, after breastfeeding five children, I have discretion down fairly solidly. However I don't have the aftermath of their gestational home solid.  Or firm. Or even remotely toned. By a long shot. And that, gentle reader, ain't nobody want to see. And a blanket is a great way to hide the visual pollution that is my abdomen.

The more I think about, the more I wish I had that woman's spunk. I'd change the message just a bit. "Hey you do know you have 40lbs in 30lbs capacity pants, right?" Not that I want to spread shame or anything. Just sharing information.

Back to the lady with odd social boundaries. I'm sure she was well intentioned but I was flustered. There were plenty of other people around, many of whom heard her comment. I swear it was a look of pure panic that streaked across a young man's face. I wasn't about to admit that I had large amounts of stomach gushes that I am unwilling to share with the general public. Instead I resorted to my standard defense mechanism, humor. "It's just that her head is really odd looking and I am trying to protect her self image." Lying to strangers, look what I have been reduced to.

The lady looked askance and Cinco picked up on the fact that she was being thrown under the bus and surface for air and attention. And so we ended up talking about how beautiful and not deformed my daughter is.

I have to go read "Hank the CowDog." I learned through trial and error the if you read Hank in a French accent--Honk Ze CewDug--Baba will tell you that you are absurd, Baby will eat it up and Mac will cry because he can't understand what you are saying.

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