Friday, August 23, 2013

It's Friday and (I haven't decided how to title these posts) ...

Q: You're at Target trying on men's Oxford-style shirts. You finally learned to click the car seat into position on the shopping cart. The baby is wide-eyed and checking out adult-sized Batman-bedroom ware. (What? I know). Everything is going awesome. You realize, suddenly, that you didn't bring your plastic and you only have enough cash to buy, like, half a tube of Chapstick. The generic kind. Meanwhile, you've got a very Rockefeller shopping list.

Blerg.

Back in the car, you wonder what happens when you get home. Will you a) Park, leave the baby in the car, sprint into the house, grab your money, sprint back to car within 35 seconds, jet back to Target or b) Park, remove baby from car, walk at a responsible pace into house, get money, walk back to car, re-position car seat, jet back to Target?

A. (According to Chuck): B! There are all sorts of crazy ladies who want to steal babies!
A. (According to me): B! Our dick neighbor is probably looking for a reason to call social services so that we stop parking in the street.
A. (According to Source Whose Identity is Protected): A! Leave her in the car. Don't tell anyone. Next time buy a house with an attached garage just for this reason.

***
"Isn't it weird that she's a real person. With rights. And not just our pet human?" -- Chuck.

***

The photo is a classic: My chest hooked up to the Steampunk Pumping Contraption with two bottles of fresh milk in the light of a new day. I'm not nude, I'm wearing a sweater over my shoulders and a nursing tank top. Not even a millimeter of breast is showing; There is no nip slippage.

I cackled after I took the selfie and texted it to CHRISSIE with the question "Would you like anything in your coffee?" Then, a few minutes later, I bettered it. I resent her the photo and this time wrote "Would you like me to save room for a little cream?"

She told me I could make fast cash on fetish websites and I told her I was going to turn it into a poster and sell it to Starbucks.

It was all so hilarious to me that I decided to post the photo on my blog.

Me: "... And so, in summary, I think it is okay to post this on my blog because you can't see anything and it is so funny."
Chuck: (Quietly looks at the photograph enlarged on a computer screen).
Me: "I mean, there isn't even a visible nipple."
Chuck: (Slowly) You have to think: 'Is there anyone I wouldn't want to see this.' Because by putting it on your blog, you're putting it in the face of everyone. They can choose not to look at it. But you are showing everyone."
Me: (Visualizing the faces of family, friends, enemies, celebrities, high school Spanish teacher, nuns) No. No, I am fine with everyone seeing this photo.
Chuck: ...
Me: Maybe I'll just write about how I almost posted the photo.

***

Chuck went back to work this week after a month of paternity leave. A month. It. Was. Awesome. There was a rough half day when we realized I try to finish all of his sentences, but always, always use the wrong word.

("Because, eventually this will be available on ..." he says.
"Netflix!" I chime.
"No, Amazon Prime," he says).

And it was weird, man. Our inside jokes have developed inside jokes and they are all buried under layers of communication ticks unfathomable to other adult humans (aside from, maybe, Chuck's best friend The Great Archivist).

I sensed this togetherness was going to be a problem when we encountered outsiders. Like the nurse at the Breastfeeding Clinic, who watched us verbally compute how much bottled breast milk we were supplementing with and finally had to stop us mid fervor to say:

"What does this all mean?"

It was a fast month and much was learned and there was an unyielding diaper rash and hours spent staring into the tiny face and there was only one time that I stood in the shower and cried because I just wanted to go for a walk, maybe have a bonfire -- AND A BEER! -- with my boyfriend without having to worry about whether it's convenient to yank, on demand, ole lefty out of my tank top.

At one point in the unyielding spin cycle of feeding-napping-diaper loading Chuck looked at me and said: "I feel like we're in a war together."

And that was, and continues to be, very true.



6 comments:

Jodi said...

I laughed out loud at the 'human pet' line and then liked it so much that I read it outloud to people here and they also laughed.

Guacaholic said...

Not to be a downer, but the car seat isn't safe on top of the cart - the whole cart tips over easily, according to my ER nurse friend.

A month of paternity leave sounds freaking amazing.

Christa said...

Well that was good while it lasted. Later,Target.

Guacaholic said...

Nah, strap her into an Ergo or a Boba or whatever babywearing contraption you have on hand. If you're in the market for a Baby K'Tan, I have one you can use. I loved it for the first few months until Boss Hogg had to go to a bigger carrier.

While I'm on the topic of unsolicited advice, Biogaia drops ($25 at Walgreens) were a freaking lifesaver during the colicky farting cry stage. And wine. Just one glass so now pump/dump action had to happen.

Sorry. Done now.

Christa said...

Ok! Biogia! Ill check it out. I have a Moby, Ergo and another wrap. I haven't tried any of these yet.

Guacaholic said...

I can't say enough good things about babywearing. You have two hands free, unlimited access to kiss and sniff their heads, they're usually calmer, etc. M would snooze through trips to Target and Cub, which was great because it was hard to get out of the house in between naps.

I'd try a wrap first (though I never did because the Moby intimidated me) because they tend to work better for new babes. I used my Boba soft-sided carrier (same type as Ergo) for errands because they're easier to get babies in and out of on the go. I used the heck out of my Boba - by far the most used piece of baby gear in the whole stash. Even at 27 lbs and 20 months, I'll still put M on my hip in a sling because she's not a fan of strollers. Mileage may vary, of course.