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lucille

In defense of selfishness

I sat in the backseat of my car, nursing in the McDonald’s parking lot. I had spent the last 15 minutes trying to reason with a baby. Naturally that didn’t work. Instead, I was hunched over uncomfortably, attempting to get my baby to latch and wishing feeding him wasn’t so dang hard. One of about 100 moments every day I think about quitting breastfeeding.

Any parent can tell you that babies have radar. They come with the ability to detect the instant that mom is trying to eat, sleep, brush her hair, or do anything, really, but most of all anything involving the maintenance of her person. I think this is purposeful. It’s their way of saying, “Hey sugartits, don’t think you’re living for yourself anymore. I’m numero uno.” Today my baby effortlessly detected all red lights, reserving his most urgent wails for the moments when I couldn’t pull over and was thus powerless to stop them. So I pleaded, “please Dean, can we just make it to 38th street and then I’ll pull over?”

Little man had been fickle all day. Yesterday he wanted nothing to do with my boobs. Today he was more interested in the booby. I try my best to oblige him, but this is becoming more challenging because of the boob situation.

Nursing has been a bit of a challenge. I chalk this up to cosmic justice. I say this because I had haughtily judged friends who didn’t breastfeed in the past. Breast is best, yada yada yada, yada. More importantly, a week and a half post partum I told my mother on the telephone how lucky I was to have already established breastfeeding, how easy it was, etc. Hubris. Hubris will always get you. I should have knocked on wood, or even better, kept my damn trap shut.

But as I sat in the backseat of my car, attempting to nurse my squirmy baby, all I could think was, “goddamn, I just want my McFlurry already.” And then it occurred to me. Just give him a bottle and get yourself a McFlurry. When all you want in life is a damn McFlurry, why shouldn’t you be indulged? So I gave him a bottle and bought my McFlurry.

And I have to say, the ice cream was much more satisfying than my mommy martyrdom.

Bonus picture of the Wubba:

Comments

then you. I think we do good work :)
lucille

July 2012

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