So it’s National Breastfeeding Month. I have been celebrating by…well, breastfeeding. And pumping. Breastfeeding some more. Then pumping again.
My goal was to make it to six months. I am now at 7.5 and plan to keep going until we hit the one year mark. I am an advocate for nursing and believe women should be able to do so whenever and wherever they please, BUT I am somewhat bashful about it myself. For the most part, I have been able to keep the activity to the confines of our home, or our car.
Of course, not every day lines up exactly how you want. Like, you might come out to your driveway one morning to discover that you have a flat tire. You might have to call AAA to throw on the spare and then you may have to head over to Mavis Discount Tire with your six month-old to pick up a new set.
The one hour predicted wait-time may gradually turn into two hours and there you are: you need to get your kid back home because the babysitter will be there soon, you need to rush to work, and your kid? He needs to eat. This means you have no choice but to “bust” out the breastfeeding apron, pull down your shirt, and get your latch on.
Well, this is how one of my days played out last month. While I perched on the quaint bench provided by the kind people at this tire franchise, I began to wonder the following things:
- What’s with the abandoned sneakers? Did someone spend the night here? Or did an athlete have an epiphany and suddenly decide to become a barefoot runner?
- Exactly how harmful are the exhaust fumes coming from the cars on the nearby road? (And is it just my imagination or are some of the vehicles slowing down to catch a peek?)
- Maybe I should be more concerned about the overpowering scent of highly-processed rubber wafting from the bowels of this supposedly cost-effective establishment?
- Did the cashier really need to walk up the sidewalk and hover over us so that I could sign the paperwork right then or could that have waited until I settled up at the end?
- How effective are these breastfeeding aprons from a privacy standpoint if my son has decided it is far more fun to swat, pull, and kick at the fabric than to peacefully feed underneath it?
- And, finally, is the friendly gentleman sitting on a nearby bench hard of hearing or is he just ignoring the fact that his car is ready? SIR, I THINK YOUR CAR IS READY.
New set of wheels, a full stomach and a little commiseration from Charlie Brown:
What’s the weirdest/most-awkward place you have breast-fed or pumped?