Search!

The last thing I want is for anybody to encounter disappointment when they visit this blog. I have no doubt however, that disappointment is exactly what one particular individual was filled with when he (I’m pretty sure it was a he) conducted a particular web search on Tuesday. Take a look below…

 

Before we get to the obvious problem with the image above, God bless WordPress for providing this very useful service. Look! Two people searched for The Green Calabash. Two whole people! I’m moving on up in the world, I just know it. 

Now, on to the issue at hand: my friend who searched for “Indian women showing breast nipple”. First of all, this guy wanted to see multiple Indian women but was ready to settle for just one breast nipple. Talk about aiming low. I mean, they come in pairs so he might as well have tried for a couple of nipples. In any case, in what context would a group of Indian women be pointing at one nipple? I sure can’t think of any. Then, notice that he was very specific with his search, indicating that he wanted to see a “breast nipple”. Clearly, he was taking NO chances with his search – who knows what other types of nipples might have popped up! So imagine his shock, confusion and subsequent disappointment when he clicked on the link to this blog only to find NO BREAST NIPPLES! And not even ONE Indian woman! How sad he must have been. I can only imagine that he searched hurriedly from post to post hoping to catch a glimpse of just one breast nipple. Alas, we only talk about breasts in the context of lactation here and don’t even have pictures to back up our discussions. (Let alone Indian women to illustrate our points)

I would like to take this opportunity to formally protest my blog’s presence in the aforementioned search results amidst what I’m sure was VERY sordid company. I tried to do a little investigation before posting this entry to see if this blog would indeed pop up using the same search terms but gave up after going through a few pages. This means that our friend is extremely patient as he must have gone through a number of search result pages to finally click on this link. He was either extremely patient or extremely bored. OR extremely desperate to see just one breast nipple shown by a bunch of Indian women.    

PS -> I warned you that this might happen.

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I make milk. What’s your superpower?

As I mentioned before, we had yet another seminar to attend this past Saturday. This time, the topic was breastfeeding. Thank goodness it was 3 hours long and not 8 hours like the last seminar…I think hearing the words breast and nipple repeated over and over again for 3 hours is quite enough.   

Here is my list of key points gleaned from the seminar:

1. My boobs will get larger.

This alarming news caused me to blackout for a few minutes. I have already told you guys about my current state. And now they are saying that this problem is about to get (for lack of a better word) bigger? At this rate, I might as well call Playboy or more suitably, the Guinness Book of World Records and earn some cash on the side.

 2. My vocabulary is about to change dramatically.

Here are a couple of terms I learned on Saturday: Breast SandwichNoun. Two (or more) fingers with a bit of breast between them. Hand expressing – Verb. You know how they get milk from a cow? Now imagine that the cow was a woman. And she was milking herself. 

3. My boobs have a higher calling

They are NOT pointless features of my anatomy intended for amusement or adornment (or astonishment as key point #1 warns). No. The time has come for them to fulfill their destiny (cue the Rocky music…). In a few short months, they will assume their rightful place as the most spectacular sources of nourishment that the world has ever seen. They will be bastions of nutrition, purveyors of good health and embodiments of maternal perfection. *takes a bow* Thank you, thank you.

PS -> This seminar was called Beautiful Beginnings. Once again, they went for a fluffy sounding seminar title instead of giving us something more factual e.g.  From Now On, Your Boobs Belong to Baby. Get Used to It.

PPS -> Wow. I just realized that I use the word boobs about a hundred times in this post. Some lonely guy in a dark room will be very disappointed with this particular Google search result when he types in boob. Sorry perv, try being more specific next time. 

PPPS -> Seriously though, I pledge not to talk about boobs again for at least 2 weeks. Let’s call it a Boob Ban.

Making Room for Baby

This weekend we finally got around to buying a crib and holy crap are those things gigantic or what?! A ten year old can fit in that freaking thing. It has completely and utterly taken over our bedroom. So now, we’re mourning the loss of our lusty love shack, our steamy sex cove, our…who am I kidding? That room has always been as unexciting as a monk’s library. But at least before it didn’t look like a daycare center! Nothing says romance like a heap of pink onesies piled onto a stroller, sitting in the middle of your bedroom. 

In any case, this got me thinking about all the other changes we’ll need to make in the apartment over the next few months: this place is a DEATH TRAP. Between the electric cables lining every wall, the tall unstable lamps, the razor sharp corners on our furniture and my husband’s 100 pound golf bag balanced precariously beside the bathroom door, I wonder if we might have to lock the baby in our bedroom for the first few years of her life.

AND THEN my wardrobe will also have to undergo a makeover since as a nursing mother I’ll be obligated to whip out a boob at any given moment to breastfeed. So, I’m on the hunt for suitable shirts because can you imagine the commotion that I would cause at Target if I had to strip off an entire sweater dress to gain access to a boob? No, thanks. I’m uncomfortable enough with the notion of breastfeeding in public without adding complete indecent exposure to the mix. In fact, I’ve become so obsessed with this issue that I recently bought this thing that’s supposed to cover your bosom while you breastfeed but do you know what the brand is called? UDDER COVERS. I mean, really? REALLY?  

What have I gotten myself into?

(Well, technically I didn’t get into this all by myself, I had some help. And when I say “some” it’s just as a manner of speaking, I don’t mean that the amount of help was negligible. Because it wasn’t negligible, it was significantly large. The amount of help, that is. You know what I mean. Crap. I’ll stop talking now.)

The Little Housewife That Could

Before I get on with this post, let me first acknowledge that my use of the word ‘little’ in the title above is extremely laughable because there is NOTHING little about me right now. 7 months pregnant or not, I feel (and most definitely look) like a beached whale. My belly seriously grows at the astonishing rate of about 20 inches per day. And every morning I look at it like, SERIOUSLY? My sweet little belly button which used to curve inwards ever so delicately is now just a flat, black rounded spot in the middle of my massive midsection. But I’m grateful for this belly because it has been mercifully shielding my ankles from view. All this time, I thought my ankles were doing fine until my beloved husband felt the need to point out to me a few nights ago that they are looking mighty swollen. So, with some difficulty, I lift my legs so I can see said ankles and yup, I officially have CANKLES people. Just great. Thanks boo. This is exactly the type of information I need to hear right now. AND THEN my boobs are just another story on their own. They need their own zip code. They have ballooned to obscene proportions and continue to do so with no end in sight. Let’s just say that if a boat I was on capsized, everyone could climb aboard my massive frame and I would make for a great life raft, complete with two outstanding floatation devices. 

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, on to the post…

It’s been a full two weeks since my lifestyle change and I can honestly say that I’m a much more productive (and happy) human being. I’m not a domestic goddess yet by any means but I’m not at the same level of crappiness that I once was. This is progress, people! The thing is, I’ve discovered that with housekeeping (as with most other things in life) moderation is key to success. Less is more, if you will. There is absolutely no reason to clean your house all day –nobody’s house needs to be that clean. An hour of cleaning on Monday, spot cleaning throughout the week and then a touch up on Friday and you’re good to go! With laundry, I’m probably the last person on planet earth to discover that waiting until you have a 6-foot-high heap of dirty clothes is not a great idea. As I belatedly learned, laundry becomes much less depressing when you have a small, manageable load. Who would have thunk?!Progress, I tell you! I’m still waiting for my craft supplies to fill up my afternoons but like that famous Little Engine That Could, I think I CAN do this housewife thing!

All this got me thinking that it’s funny how you can pray and hope for one thing (a job in my case) but get something totally different (housewifery), and STILL be happy (after a little attitude adjustment). So, maybe, the answer you get isn’t just plain “No” but instead it’s “No, BUT what I do give you will be more awesome if you could only just see it that way.”
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