Just perpetually doing the dishes and (random thought alert*) it occurred to me… Why does that song say ,”When you get caught between the moon and New York City”. Yes, I have been guilty of singing the lyrics to that elevator Muzak once or twice but really, what the hell does it mean? I understand stuck between a rock and a hard place because I seem to dwell there quite often. But where exactly is the space that occupies between the moon and New York city? Outer Space? Just wondering out loud, any ideas? Ok, back to resume regularly scheduled perpetual dish washing. Oh yeah, it bothered me so much that I am actually blogging on my phone from the side of the sink:) Oh how I love the advancements of technology! Happy Tuesday!
-Truthful Mommy xoxo
Anyways, I was one of those poor unfortunates who, try as they may, the boobies just didn’t function properly. They have always been big and beautiful (thanks Mom) but apparently pretty useless when I actually needed them. So, it was SNS (supplemental nursing system) from the get go. Oh, what? You are not familiar with this term? Lucky you! It is a wonderful medieval contraption that you hang from your neck, it holds formula in a container..that is exerted from a small tube that is taped to your nipple ( hoping to supplement what your poor under functioning, handicapped boobies can’t produce) and if you are super lucky (as I was) you can add to the mix a nipple guard!Sweet! Lovely, right? P.S. The nipple guard is not a little guy in a fuzzy hat who guards the nipple, its a pliable plastic covering to help draw the nipple out. My poor little boobies, they had such a complex; they figured they couldn’t come to play , so they were trying to hide on the bench. I have a friend of mine, who never even attempted to breast feed (because according to her, “those” were for fun not function) and here I am bargaining with the devil and praying to Jesus to let me produce enough milk to feed my starving child and , it just never came to fruition. I gave it the old college try, I took the fenugreek, the mothers milk tea, I tried everything possible to stimulate breast milk production but I could never fly solo, I always had to use that damn SNS! So, both girls got breastfed for about 6 weeks. I’m sorry, who was I fooling. The embarrassment and sheer horror of that SNS (it still gives me nightmares to think about harnessing myself into that thing) and only producing maybe 1/2 to 1 ounce when my kid was eating 4 -6 oz, was too much. So, I never had to decide whether or not to breastfeed in public (because anyone who knows me, knows that I am such a hypochondriac when it comes to my babies that they don’t go out into the general public until after 6 weeks). So, I am not trying to be judgy. When I see a Mommy feeding her baby, first I feel “awww” ,then that is followed by a little uncomfortableness, then ” what a tender , sweet Mommy/baby moment”. Generally, I think it is beautiful. Personally, I never did it outside the house but that was just my situation ( because the time of breastfeeding coincided with the 6 week waiting period of taking my newborns out into general population ….cause I am a lil crazy like that). Anyways, today I take my 2 and 5 year old to toddler story time @ the local library. We are sitting there and I notice a couple of the Mommies have some newborns (awwww, moment) . Mommy A ‘s 3 month old girl is getting that fussy, hungry cry going. Mommy promptly pulls out what looks like an apron and there goes the baby, under the apron, suckling to her hearts desire as Mommy watches on as her 4 year old little boy participates in story time. Way to go Mommy, she was on the ball. Directly next to her, I notice a little girl around the age of 4 assuming the position in her Mommy’s lap. What? I think, a little regression perhaps. You know seeing the baby next to her go under the apron. She’s no fool , she knew what was going on under there. Then the 4 year old sticks her hand in her Mom’s(Mommy B) shirt and is fondling her. I am like, WTH is going to happen here? It felt like I was witnessing snuff. Then, this woman, whipped it out and this little girl took a hit..like a shot of whiskey from a shot glass.WTF??? Seriously, I swear I am not against breastfeeding. In fact, I am a little envious of those Mommies with aprons..that means,God bless em, their parts are functioning correctly. But there has always been something creepy to me about a child old enough to be drinking out of a regular cup (past the sippy cup age), who can say “Give me a hit off the old teet mom!” Or anyone old enough to spell boobies, draw boobies, or talk about the experience still actually feeding off the breast. I don’t think a kid who can unbutton your shirt and wipe their own ass should still be breastfeeding. I mean, unless there is some weird disease and that is the only thing the kid can eat to survive…then I think its a little creepy and a little sad. Then ,in my head, I kept thinking if one of my girls ( who are watching this whole thing go down and my 2 year old was watching very interested like) comes over to me and tries to see what all the fuss is about, we’d have serious problems. How do I explain, ” I know honey, you know how you like chicken nuggets and lemonade? Well, that little girl still likes boobie milk!”So, my question to you is..am I wrong to be creeped out by this? Am I just out of the loop because of my own shortcomings? Would I feel differently if I had the ability to sufficiently breastfeed my own kids? I don’t think so but then again , I guess we’ll never know. All I know is I left the library today feeling just a little bit violated and dirty. I wasn’t staring , and didn’t see any actual boobies..but the kid was wiping her mouth and sporting an “ahhh” ( you know that sound you make when you’ve been running and you take a long cold swig of ice water? Yeah, that’s the sound.) I’m now sufficiently terrified to go to story time again; I may be off the library entirely.
whatever other hallway where I meet these women that I am dropping my children off at..I find myself in this very odd phenomenon. It’s odd for me because I am a talker and am not usually at a loss for words, nor do I need to go in search of them. But for some reason, whenever I am alone in this situation, it seems I develop this bizarre loss for words. What’s worse, the word constipation is followed by a very steady stream of diarrhea of the mouth ( not bad breath , though it may be better suited to be described in a different light) . The phenomenon that I am referring to is, I start rambling like a speeding train on a track to hell. I feel the space with what can only be described as Truthful Mommy unnecessary and should be kept to myself trivia.Things, Oh God inappropriate things, come flying out of my mouth. It’s like some form of tourettes. It is so embarrassing to me; I sit there, as its happening, wishing , hopelessly I could stop the words, or better yet remove the ones already said from the ears of my audience. You know that feeling you got in college when you went out and had too good of a time, you woke up the next morning thinking, “Oh crap! What did I do?” but this is worse, I am coherent..I know what I am saying but I can’t stop these unfiltered words from leaving my mouth. Here’s is an example of what a conversation might sound like, New friend/never again to be seen friend (NF/NASF) ” Yes, my husband is fantastic. He does the dishes every night.” Unfiltered me (UM) ” My husband is the best lover I have ever had. He is working on a new version of the Kama Sutra!” (Appropriate response? Probably not!) (NF/NASF) ” I need to workout more!” (UM) “I was a bulimic for 10 years.Vanilla ice cream tastes like a shake , on the return trip!” These are NOT actual conversation excerpts, but a fair example of the gamut of what could possibly come out of my mouth in these situations is about as random. So, you see the dilemma? What , dear God, can I fill the space of quietness with? Maybe silence is golden for a reason!