BIOBaby: Breastfeeding at 48 Months

My cousin had a baby in July of 2008. I gave birth to Jack in August of 2008. A few months ago we were both invited to a hookah bar and my response was, “I can’t go! I’m still breastfeeding!” Her response was, “So am I. Now, what’s your excuse?”

The big difference here is that she she was referring to her second child born since July 2008! That’s right. In the time it took her to nurse one child, wean him, get pregnant and have another baby, I’m still breastfeeding the same baby. And you know what? I think it downright offends some people. I’ve received eye rolls and head shakes and that’s from family!

When I was pregnant I said that I would breastfeed for the first two years.  It seemed like a good length of time, and I suppose part of that decision was based on the guilt I felt for weaning Kali earlier than I’d planned. I left myself open to the possibility that I’d change my mind once I actually began.

Last February, when Jack was about six months old, my mother moved in with us. She is from the old school of feeding a baby pretty much anything that won’t choke ‘em and chewing up and feeding them the things that might. I was making Jack’s baby food myself (pureeing and freezing ice cube trays of carrots, squash, and apples) and as she made sure he was eating three squares (literally) a day, he seemed to become disinterested in nursing.

Oh, hell no. I increased my efforts, offering him the boob whenever I could, and it worked. He was back, firmly nestled in my breast where he belonged. A few more months passed and I thought 18-months-old might be a good place to stop. Then one day while on the phone with Sophie she asked when I was going to stop. I told her when Jack was 18 months. And she said, “Well, he’s 17-months-old now, you might wanna start weaning.”

Well, that was two months ago and I’m still “weaning.”

We tried the “don’t offer, don’t refuse” method. I wouldn’t offer up the booby during the day, but if he went for it, I wouldn’t refuse it either. I tried nursing only first thing in the morning, before nap time, and before bed at night. The problem was, he asked all the time!

And most times, he won’t even ask! I can be on the laptop, reading a book, watching T.V., or playing Halo and he’ll come and pull one out for a little pick-me-up. The boy has even pulled one out as I carried him on my hip, walking down the stairs. He literally lifted one out of my tank top, craned his neck, and started sucking.

“OK. You may need to start getting dressed everyday. No more wearing your P.J.s all day. No more tank tops. Start wearing turtlenecks tucked into your jeans… and wear a belt,” Sophie advised.

“Um, I think I need an armored vest!”

The majority of the time, I don’t mind that he’s still nursing. Sometimes it’s caused some pretty funny moments. Like, the other night when Jack and Donny were headed up to bed, and I decided to stay downstairs and watch Idol. Jack climbed out of my lap to follow Donny up the stairs. Just as he was about to climb up the first step he stopped, ran back to me, stood between my legs as I sat on the couch, pulled my nightshirt down and sucked, sucked, sucked, then ran back to Donny throwing a, “Bye!” over his shoulder. Donny said he just wanted “one for the road.”

Other times, it can be pretty inconvenient when he falls asleep and I have to carefully detach and then pray he doesn’t wake up as I transition him. And I’m pretty sure all these hormones are the reason behind my constant need to wax my face – but that’s for a whole ‘nother blog. I think what is worrying me is that I have no idea how to stop. A lot of people have said I should just let him decide. What if he decides he wants to be doing it till he’s 3? He’s already graduated from sippy cups to child cups with lids and straws, and recently he’s been pushing those aside and drinking from a lidless cup like a big boy, but he ain’t tryna give up the “bee bees.”

A lot of Moms who really advocate nursing will say, “You know, in other countries this isn’t such a big deal.”

Yeah, well, I live in America and I ain’t tryna be the mom squirting breastmilk in his thermos as he heads off to preschool!

Donny and I went to see 2012 and this trailer was shown before the movie. At the end of it, Donny turned to me and said, “That’s gonna be you and Jack.” No, it’s not! Right? RIGHT!?

Nina’s Top Ten Things I Never Thought I’d Say… Until I Had Kids

10. “Please stop pulling your sister’s panties.”

9. “No, you cannot have Fruit Roll-Ups for breakfast. Because they’re not actually fruit.”

8. “Stop licking your sister’s arm.”

7. “Get your hands out of the toilet!”

6. “Don’t bite the dog!”

5. “Do not put that in your nose!

4. “You have to go to school. Because if I don’t send you to school, I’ll go to jail. Do you want Mommy to go to jail? I didn’t think so. Now, go get dressed.”

3. “No, my breastmilk isn’t chocolate because I’m brown.”

2. “Please don’t bite my nipple.”

1. “Stop playing with your penis!”

BIOBaby: Jack Updates

It’s been awhile. I’ve been busy with school and trying to get published. Thanks for your patience.

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Jack is almost 14 months now. His vocabulary continues to grow. Donny has been upgraded from “Dada” to “Daddy.” It’s absolutely adorable and somewhat annoying. Annoying because I just realized a few days ago that he now says Mama when referring to me and when requesting food. My mom will be pouring a bowl of Cherrios for him and he’ll start chanting from his high chair, “Mama mama!” Kali will be pouring a cup of juice for him and he’ll be standing at her side, pointing at the cup, and screaming, “Mama mama!”

“This is because, to him, you are food.” Donny explained. “It’s kind of cute.”

“No. It’s insulting. A bit of my soul dies when my son affectionately calls a french fry, ‘Mama!’”

Donny has taught him how to say, “Belly.” He will rub his own, and sometimes one of our bellies, and say belly over and over again. Not to be outdone, I’m trying to teach him how to say, “esophagus.”

He’s a smart cookie and tries desperately to keep up with Kali and my lil sister, Bruklyn. The girls were outside the other day and Jack stood at the second floor gallery window watching them play. Suddenly, he began running a few feet to the wall, slapping it, and then running back to the window. I was standing nearby, on the phone with my Dad, silently wondering what the hell he was doing. Then, I looked out the window and saw that the girls were racing to the neighbor’s mailbox, tagging it with their hands, and then running back to the other neighbor’s driveway. Jack wanted to race too!

Yes, I’m still nursing him. He is not really feeling the cow’s milk, but will drink baby juice and water. He eats cereal, baby cereal, Gerber graduates meals, steamed veggies, and random things from our plates. He still likes to nurse at night before bed. I’m not worried about it because I told myself when I was pregnant that I’d try to nurse for the first 18 months.

He’s still sleeping with us as well. Some people seem to think that we are setting ourselves up for trouble later, but this isn’t our first rodeo. Kali was still sleeping with us at this age too. It’s even more convenient because he is still nursing. I’m not overly concerned with a rough transition to his own room because we have experience with it and did just fine.

Finally, Jack loves to dance.

Tomorrow: The Top Ten Most Ridiculous Things I’ve Said As a Mom

BIOBaby: Held Hostage

I’m not one of those Moms that never has a bad thing to say about motherhood because I think doing so somehow makes me a bad Mom. I’m all about keeping it real. And on the realness, some aspects of motherhood, like everything else in life, sucks.

So, allow me to vent a bit about an aspect of breastfeeding that is wearing on my already-frayed nerves. Oh, and before you all go getting your lactating panties in a bunch, I realize that this is probably a small problem and one of my own making. I take full responsibility, but I get to vent because it’s my website and that’s how I roll.

Laying down nursing and co-sleeping are a dream for a lazy ass like me, but there are times where I feel held hostage by the routine I’ve nurtured. Take the other morning for instance. Saturday morning I woke up bright and early, but could not leave the bed because Jack was still sleeping. I thought about having Donny come upstairs and stay with him so that I could maybe take a shower, have a cup of coffee, workout, etc., but then I heard the lawnmower start and knew that Donny was busy.

But even if he wasn’t, Donny wouldn’t have been able to offer up the boob like I could any time Jack stirred. That has become the routine. Jack sleeps through the night, but some nights he stirs and will pull at my nightshirt until I whip one out and let him suckle himself back to sleep. I cannot move until he’s done and being done isn’t always so easy to determine. Just cause he stops sucking, doesn’t mean he’s finished. If I go to remove it, he suddenly cups the boob with both hands and start sucking away like, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Usually, it’s a double-edged sword because I don’t want to lie there for an hour so being a human pacifier, but I also don’t want to do anything to wake him up because 1. he needs his sleep and 2. when he’s sleep and I finally pry myself away, I might be able to actually get shit done.

Last night we moved the pack-n-play right next to our bed and Donny lowered the mattress. We tried putting him in there, but he woke up both times and looked at us like, “Um, no. I belong up there with you two and don’t even think about tryna get busy because I don’t need any other siblings.”

Yes, Jack is a cockblocker.

He’ll be ten months old in two days and I planned on nursing for 18 months, but now I’m thinking, “hell to the naw!” Eight more months is a really long time. That’s a whole ‘nother pregnancy.

Also, I kinda want my boobs back. They’ve become family entertainment. Last night I was sitting on the couch wearing a nursing nightgown. Jack crawled up into my lap and started tugging at it. I pulled out a booby and instead of him laying my lap in the cradle position, he faced me and rested on his knees. Then, with the boob still in his mouth, he stood and plopped back down on his knees blowing air out of his mouth as he went. This resulted in a farting noise.

Donny and Kali laughed. Ever the ham, and realizing he was on to something, Jack continued to do it over and over again. They all laughed, including Jack. You ever see a baby laugh with a titty in his mouth? It’s pretty damn cute.

But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m wondering if one year might be my stopping point. I’m trying to gauge what feels right for both Jack and I. As I type this, he’s in my lap, sucking away and sleeping. It’s beautiful and makes me think that 8 months ain’t so long after all.

Now to the good stuff. Pictures and videos!

Jack ripped up my $20 game guide for Animal Crossing so I had to get another one. He’s now allowed to rip the old one to shreds if he desires. What does he do? Turns the pages like a civilized reader!

The below video is kinda dark, but I didn’t want to risk moving to turn on the light and then he’d stop “reading” the book.

“Reading” with better light

BIOBaby: What Did This Titty Ever Do To You, Part 2

I’d previously written about Jack’s left nipple aversion here. Lately he’d been giving the right one the cold shoulder.

For two full days he refused to nurse from it. It started with the stink eye. He would give it a skeptical look before putting it in his mouth. Then, it escalated to him actually taking a few gulps before spitting it out and trying to crawl to the other side.

How rude!

I’m sure the milk tastes the same, (and he had no problem drinking milk from that boob pumped into a bottle while I was in school) so I started doing titty inspections. Was there something going on with the right one? That’s when I  figured it out. A random hair was out of control on the bottom right perimeter of the areola. Lovely.

So, that’s why he was suddenly treating my boob like the grody fountain drink you return in a restaurant!

“This Coke tastes funny. Can I have a Sprite or maybe a sweet tea?”

Unfortunately for Jack, his only two flavors are left and right.

BIOBaby: Breastfeeding Part 2

Ah, so many things. I very rarely do this, but I thought I should post a follow-up to yesterday’s blog and address a few things. It’s going to take me a moment to respond to each of the comments like I want to, and there are some broad things I wanted to point out.

Most of you have been reading my blogs for over three years now. So, you’ve heard this before. I treat my blog like my living room. I speak here the way I speak to family and friends who come to my home. Those of you who have become “real life” friends from my blog, and been to my home, can attest to that. You are encouraged to speak your mind and engage in vigorous debate. I don’t delete comments of those that disagree with me, but I will delete comments that disrespect me. You can tell me I’m wrong, but you’re not gonna call me a stupid bitch while doing so. I wouldn’t tolerate that in my home, and I don’t tolerate it here. This also means that I defend your right not to be disrespected. Anyone who can’t make their point without being offensive will be deleted. Period.

After reading through most, but not all, of the comments on the breastfeeding in public blog, I wanted to say a few things…

1. Someone brought up a great point in that the act of breastfeeding should not be covered up. I want to be clear that wasn’t what I meant. You shouldn’t have to negotiate your child in such a way to hide what you’re doing because there is some stigma or shame to breastfeeding. I didn’t mean, and I don’t think some of the people responding, meant that you should breastfeed in such a way that no one can tell what you’re doing because breastfeeding is bad.

2. It seems to me that both sides had good points, but there are always going to be some who feel like their rights and opinions surpass the rights of others. So where do I stand? I see both sides. And I’m sorry if this doesn’t sit well with my fellow breastfeeding Moms. You have the right to breastfeed in public any way you want; completely covered with your child in a veritable sweat box, bare as you please with your breast exposed at all stages of the feeding process, or discretely behind a blanket/sling/shirt, etc. But you cannot deny someone the right to be uncomfortable, offended, and even grossed out.

I don’t think it’s gross, but I understand that not everyone shares my feelings. When we walk around thinking that everyone should feel the way we do, and then ridicule them when they don’t, we’ll all have problems.

I choose to “cover-up” when I nurse in public for several reasons:

1. I don’t want anyone looking at my breasts. Sorry. Call it what you want. People remarked, “If we lived in Europe…” Guess what? This ain’t Europe. I cover my breasts for the same reason I don’t put pictures of my daughter on the internet anymore. I cover my breasts for the same reason I don’t shove a full banana in my mouth, but rather break it into pieces when eating one in public. I cover my breasts for the same reason I bend at the knees and not the waist when picking something up in public. Why? People can be perverted. People have been known to take the most innocent of actions and get their rocks off from them. That’s why they’re called perverts.

2. I tend to wear shirts that open at the top. Even when I’m home and expecting family over. Why? Because I still have pregnancy tummy due to laziness at working out and I don’t want anyone looking at my baby fat. So, when we have family movie night, or a birthday party (as we’ve had several since Jack’s birth 7 months ago) at our house, I will nurse around family (too much of a social butterfly to leave the room and miss anything!), but I do so in a way that keeps my breasts covered.

Just as if we were in a restaurant, Donny will most likely hold a baby blanket up so that I can get my breast out and Jack latched on. Then I nurse with Jack covered. He is now at a stage where he will try to remove the blanket and unlatch to look around when he hears something interesting. I prepare for that by having myself in such a position, and around people, so that if it happens and my nipple is exposed, it’s not a big deal.

I’ve been at my parent’s house and in their kitchen when that has happened in front of my Dad. It’s not a big deal because even though I don’t go showing my Dad my nipples normally, we both realize that I’m feeding his grandchild and these things happen. Now, when I’m in the same situation with my cousin’s husband at the table, or my sister’s boyfriend, I will either nurse with my back to them so there’s no sudden nipple exposure, or I will leave the room.

This doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with breastfeeding or even my nipples. It just means that maybe I don’t feel like showing my nipple to my cousin’s husband, and maybe he don’t feel like seeing it.

3. As for children, for all the people who commented that breastfeeding provides a perfect learning opportunity, I agree. But it’s not your place to decide when others educate their children. I personally would handle my child asking about a nearby woman nursing as such, “She’s feeding her baby. Don’t stare because it’s not polite.” And if they had further questions, I’d address them at home. But again, everyone doesn’t think like me and you have to remember that not everyone thinks like you. And that doesn’t make them wrong.

Maybe little Billy just wants to eat his chicken fingers, and maybe his Momma just wants to let him enjoy his chicken fingers without having to get into discussions over your breasts and what they do and why they do it.

4. I am not nursing my son in a public bathroom.

5. I am not going to “wait till I get home” to nurse my son if he’s hungry. No, he won’t starve, but being hungry is no fun either. And anyone that suggests to me that I wait until I get home to feed him would most likely get their feelings hurt.

6. Comparisons to pooping and peeing are dumb. Stop making them.

Finally, everyone should be a little more tolerant. Period. Breastfeeding moms, we haven’t cornered the market on what’s right, what’s beautiful, and what’s acceptable. I think it’s very sad that some women have this “all or nothing” attitude about it. As a breastfeeding Mom I support your right to nurse wherever and however you want, but don’t make me feel like I’m betraying some sisterhood because I choose to practice some form of covering up when I do.

BIOBaby: Breastfeeding in Public

The public breastfeeding debate has been going on for quite awhile now, and I’ve pretty much kept out of it because it’s one of those things where my attitude had been, “People who make a big deal out of this are stupid.” I admit it. Overall, I felt that people who complained really needed to find other things to occupy their time.

A short conversation with Donny a few weeks ago forced me to look a little deeper. He came into the bedroom and asked me, “Would you breastfeed Jack in public?”

“Yes, why?”

“That’s gross.”

I almost slapped him in the head with a nursing bra. Feeding his son is gross?

He goes on to tell me about a coworker coming from the bathroom, and passing an area in Home Depot where customers are allowed to, I don’t know, measure stuff. Anyway, a woman had taken advantage of this quiet spot to breastfeed her baby. The coworker said that the woman wasn’t covered up.

There are too many layers to this for me to say, “I feel this way and that’s that!” I think it needs to be broken down.

1. Breasts were made for nursing. Period. It’s their sole function for women. If you choose never to have a baby, then you won’t lactate. You will only use your breasts for the side benefits that come with having them; filling out a shirt nicely, pleasing your partner sexually, earning a few bucks, etc. (God, I hope the newbies realize that the last bit was a joke.)

Using your breasts for the reason God gave them to you, in my opinion, is never gross. This isn’t to slam mothers who chose not to breastfeed, but I don’t think anyone can argue that of breast milk and formula, breast milk is the healthier option. There’s a reason pediatricians tell nursing mothers that even water isn’t a necessity when feeding newborns. Breast milk has everything they need. As we continue to break this down, you will never be able to convince me that breastfeeding in public is gross. Some other words maybe, but not gross.

2. Now’s the time when it would be helpful to make a flow chart. Define “in public.” Does it matter if the woman is covered or are you offended even if she’s using a blanket or some other form of cover?

Some people are truly offended if a woman is nursing her child in public even if she’s covered! I don’t get that, and if you’re one of those people, I invite you to share your feelings below to help me understand.

If I’m in a restaurant and Jack gets fussy and/or hungry, I don’t see the big deal in covering up and feeding him at the table. This pretty much goes for any public place; as long as I’m covered.

For the most part, nursing mothers are prepared and well-organized. You Moms know what I’m talking about, even if you’re not nursing. We leave the house with more supplies than a soldier going off to battle. A mother worth her salt has a diaper bag bulging at the seams with bottles, formula, diapers, wipes, bibs, extra clothing, toys, lotions, blankets, etc. I can’t imagine, if given a choice, most nursing women choosing to whip out a tit for everyone to see in order to feed their child.

But if they do, I can see where this would make some… heck, maybe even most people uncomfortable and offended. Kevin, a friend of mine/my web guru, brought up a good point; he doesn’t want his kid seeing it. Never mind that he doesn’t have kids, but I saw what he meant. It can be pretty uncomfortable explaining to your kid why the lady at the next table has her boob out. On the other side of that though, what’s wrong with just explaining breast feeding to your child?

When I asked Donny, “Why gross?”

“OK, maybe not gross, but why wouldn’t you just go in the bathroom? Why would you want men seeing your boobs?”

You know, I don’t have the answer to that. My only thought is that when you are breast feeding, you tend to forget that your boobs are objects of lust. Seriously. I’ve had a boob out and not even known it. I am notorious for forgetting to pull my bra flap up after nursing Jack, and the other day I walked past the big gallery window with my left tit justa hangin’ out. I don’t even feel it! They’re not sex objects at that moment. To me, it’s no different than leaving the cap off the milk!

I’m sure there are women out there wanting to prove a point, so they’ll whip out a boob to feed their child just to prove they can. I am not that woman. In fact, I’m hard pressed to find a situation in which I’d be forced to nurse Jack in public, without any cover. I totally would (I’m not gonna let my baby go hungry for anyone), but I think the chances of me having to are highly unlikely.

But if I did, I don’t want to be labeled as gross. Inappropriate? Sure, to some. But it’s not gross. And I would hope that people nearby would cut me some slack and realize that I’m just trying to feed my child, not make a statement.

So, what are your thoughts? Does it bother you to see a woman nursing in public even if she’s covered? Why? What are some alternatives? How would you explain a nursing woman to your kids?

Hairy Nipples and Other Short Stories Called Blogs

I recently discovered a blogger who gets a shit ton of traffic writing about the same exact stuff as me. It’s like reading about my life, but with white people. Well, more white people.

This morning I read her latest blog; a conversation between her and her husband in which he scolds her for scraping a pole… with their car. He talks about how she always nags him about driving too slow, like I do to Donny.

“Donny! Oh my God! It’s like us, but we’re funnier. And only I would never, ever, ever, crash the car.”

“Only, you did crash the car.”

Pause.

“Oh. Right. Never mind.”

No, I’m not linking her site. That bitch has enough readers.

Hairy Nipples

I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’m a hairy freak. It is not unusual for me to find one growing out of my chin or neck, pull it out as far as it will go, and exclaim, “Donny, look at this, sucker!” Then I’ll let it go so it can snap back into a neat little coil… like a Slinky! Donny will stare in a mixture of revulsion and amazement.

Every now and again, I will find random hairs growing around my areolas. He keeps saying, “Pluck them.” I don’t think plucking that area is appropriate. I reserve the hurt-so-good feeling of plucking for my eyebrows, and then only after I’ve waxed them within an inch of their lives. I apply the tweezers to the unruly stubborn hairs with masochistic glee. But the boobs? They get shaved.

Today I was sitting on the bed after dying my hair and noticed a stray strand from my head had landed beside my right boob on my nightgown. It was really long. Donny was sitting to my left, and because I had nothing better to do and I’m a touch retarded, I decided to play a joke on him. I tugged at the hair to make it look as if it were coming from the bottom of boob and said, “Oh my God, Donny! Look!”

He took one look and started dry-heaving. I couldn’t stand it.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. See?!” And I pulled the hair loose.

“I’m not that bad,” I said lifting my right boob slightly to discover that I wasn’t… yet. There was a pretty long one kind curled up like a cat on a rug in front of a fireplace. It looked just as content and I might have heard it purr.

“Well, damn.”

“Poor Jack,” Donny lamented, “It probably tickles his tongue when he’s eating.”

“Like that time Peter nursed Stewie!”

And we both dissolved into giggles. And then I shaved.

Dominicans Do Some Hair

There are a lot of Dominican hair salons popping up around here. This hasn’t surprised me because I’m from Brooklyn, NY and I know Dominicans can do some damn hair. They may wear too many pastels and have an aversion to socks, but they can do some damn hair.

Note: Being black and Panamanian, I can totally make fun of other blacks, Panamanians, and Puerto Ricans, and Dominicans.

Donny, forgetting himself, will occasionally try to do so until I remind him that he can’t. The other day Kali stuck her fingers under his nose.

“Daddy, look at my nails!”

She had painted each nail a different color.

“What are you? Puerto Rican?”

“Hey! You can’t say that!”

“You joke about Puerto Ricans mixing colors all the time!”

“Yes, but I can. I’m Panamanian and my step-mother is Puerto Rican. I lost my virginity to a Puerto Rican for God’s sake. In Brooklyn, Puerto Ricans are lighter blacks with funny accents. I do it with love. You are white. You can’t make fun anyone.”

Earlier today, we were all piling into the car after shopping at Old Navy when Donny pointed to a salon across the street. It was the grand opening of a Dominican hair salon.

“Dominicans can do some hair,” he said.

My head whipped in his direction, my mouth agape.

“How you know?”

“Because. You always see Dominican Hair Salon. It’s never, like, Rita’s Hair Salon or Sally’s Hair Salon. Just Dominican. Like, being Dominican is all y’all need to know.”

He had a point. If you saw, “Roscoe’s Fried Chicken,” it would stand to reason that Roscoe could fry some damn chicken. Or that Kim Phan could lay some acrylic nails. Or that Shaneequa knew about braids. You might want to stay away from Kimber’s House O’Weaves, though. Girls named Kimber don’t know shit about weaves. Just sayin’.

BIOBaby: Nipple Attack!

Jack has declared jihad on my nipples.

I was just beginning to feel good about myself for breastfeeding Jack two months longer than I did Kali, and now this. I’ve been saying that Jack is teething for two months. I have no idea if he is or not. Kali had two teeth at four months, and honestly, it’s just a coincidence that I stopped nursing her around the same time. To the best of my recollection, she never bit my nipples and I kinda think that’s something you’d remember.

Anyway, around 4 months old Jack began drooling a lot and, with his newfound hand-eye coordination, putting everything he encountered in his mouth. He must be teething, we’d tell anyone that would listen. Two months later, no teeth.

But he does seem to enjoy putting things in his mouth… and chewing on them. A lot. Now, I’ll admit, I’ll let him chew on a plastic toy from China covered in Georgia peanut butter if I thought it would keep him quiet. But, I draw the line at my nipples.

Every now and again, when Jack lets go after nursing, he will kind of clamp down on my nipple with his gum and pull away really long and really hard. It’s like his gums are itchy and doing that helps him. He gets this really satisfied look on his face. Because it always takes me by surprise, and it hurts, I will jump and scream out in pain which in turn scares the crap out of Jack (he doesn’t know what he’s doing) and he’ll poke out his bottom lip and start to cry. This makes me feel like a horrible Mom so I’ll cuddle him, and then stick my nipple back in his mouth for more abuse!

“It’s okay, baby. Chew it off if that makes you feel better.”

Ah, a mother’s sacrifice.

Jack also has no problem grabbing a hold of a boob and using it to propel his forward motion or stop himself from falling as he navigates the bed on shaky, newly-used legs. He grabs, twists, and holds on for dear life. Think:

But my favorite, and least painful, Jack booby manipulation is when we’re laying down and nursing and he decides he wants a better angle. He has one hand on each side of my boob and will move it around until he gets the nipple right.where.he.wants.it. If you want an accurate ratio, picture a newborn baby trying to chug a two liter soda with two hands.

BIOBaby: Mama’s Boy

Besides being an opportunity for Kali and I to bond, Girls’ Day Out is supposed to give Donny a chance to bond with Jack. This is essential because Jack is a mama’s boy. For a six month old this doesn’t have the same negative connotation as it would if he were, say, fifteen. It’s understandable for a newborn to be more attached to his mama; he was inside of me for nine months so he knew my voice and smell before he was even born. But more importantly, I have the boobs. And these puppies make milk.

Even so, Donny has to find ways to deal with Jack that don’t involve drama. Some of you Moms know what I mean. Let’s take bedtime for instance. When it’s time for Jack to go down, we just lay together and I pop a boob in his mouth. No fuss, no muss. When Donny tries to put Jack to sleep, it’s a battle of wills. Somewhere along the way, Jack decided that he likes for Donny to stand when he’s putting him to sleep. I’ve told Donny, if you want to stand up, bouncing on one foot, with your hand in the air like you’re searching for good reception, or whatever else he expects you to do, just to get him to go to sleep, then that’s on you. He doesn’t play that crap with me. Then again, I have the boobs.

Then we have the dip-out. The dip-out is when you sneak out without the child seeing you so they don’t lose their shit. I do not believe in the dip-out. For one, you are not doing the person left behind with your child any favors. Eventually, if your child is so prone, they’re going to realize you’re gone and lose their shit. More importantly, I think your child should see you leave, even if they cry for a bit, they should see you leave and then come back eventually. They have to get to used to that fact of life. Sometimes Mommy, or Daddy, or both, leave, but they come back.

I sometimes feel sorry for Donny and Kali when Jack gets fussy with them, but cheers up the moment I take him. They love him too and want to be able to provide him comfort. I try to tell them that we each have our own “thing” with Jack. For instance, no one can make him laugh like Kali. No one. Just by walking in the room. And when Donny wants to pick him up, Jack reaches out his arms to meet him halfway. He doesn’t do that for me!

Yes, it breaks my heart to hear that Jack cried for 30 minutes straight while I was in class, but he has to get over it. Donny has to find a way to comfort and deal with him when I’m not around. The alternative, of course, is that I never leave the house. And we all know that can’t happen.

So, when I’m at school and those Sunday mornings when Kali and I are out for hot chocolate and shopping, I hope Donny is finding a way. I hope each time I’m gone it gets a little easier for him. I know that Jack has already taken to burying his face in Donny’s armpits when he’s rocking him to sleep. Maybe he thinks if he burrows deep enough, he’ll hit tit.

I try to take my son’s favor with a grain a salt. I don’t get too ahead of myself. I know that at the end of the day, it’s all about the boobs.

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