So about the asterisk, above. I was sitting for the wee Watsons, see. Having never been in charge of both of them at once (how do parents do it one at a time?) I was a little nervous. It worked out for the most part - My big secret to success is jelly belly's and reading stories in extra exciting and ridiculous voices. Both kids were enraptured. And apparently both slept pretty soundly through the night, so yay for Auntie Amby and her crazy Winnie the Pooh readings.
But first, first, in the early nervous moments, when Sarah was hungry and attention-requiring and Jakob was not hungry and attention-starved, I was snuggling Sarah and rocking her and making funny noises at her while Jakob was watching Sesame Street. Sarah was clearly getting hungry and started pawing at me and rooting around in the chestal region. At one point she snagged my top with her wee fingers and pulled with gusto. I laughed and dipped her again, trying to adjust my dress while tickling her tummy. She was positioned horizontally to me and I dipped her and blew a raspberry on her tum. When I came up from the dip, with the bundle of baby pressed in my arms, Jakob was looking at me, with wide horrified eyes. "Why are you doing that?" he asked. "What? Tickling her?" He shook his head and glared. "Why are you feeding her WITH YOUR BOOBS!?!" I looked down. It did indeed look as if I were feeding her, from where he stood especially. Hi. Never a redder shade of blush was I in all my life, I'm sure of it. I died. I stammered, as if caught doing something naughty, feeling horribly guilty, trying desperately to fix my dress and blubbered that I wasn't feeding her, that she was just laying sideways and we were playing, that I wouldn't breastfeed her, that's Mommy's job, etc etc etc. I was MORTIFIED. Jakob looked at me with narrow eyes, clearly not believing a word I was saying. Oh the horror, the shame. Called out by a three year old for something I was not actually guilty of doing. Changing the subject, I sing-songed that it was dinner time and how many Dino Nuggets did he want, tra la la? Later we walked to the store to look for Pez for his free-from-a-nice-but-unclear-on-the-concept-saleslady-in-an-antique-store Pez dispenser, but ended up with the Jellies, which did fit in the dispenser, but kept shooting out onto the sidewalk, and distressing the poor kid along the way. Luckily all that walking, talking, lamenting the lost Jellies (there were more, don't worry, I'm not that mean), and story reading eclipsed the earlier horror (for me, anyway).
Jess told me that the next morning she heard Jakob talking in his sleep: Something about "Amber, Amber" and Jelly Beans. I told her that I was relieved it was the jelly beans that crept into his tiny psyche, and not the misunderstanding about the inappropriate boob feeding. God, I would die.
But first, first, in the early nervous moments, when Sarah was hungry and attention-requiring and Jakob was not hungry and attention-starved, I was snuggling Sarah and rocking her and making funny noises at her while Jakob was watching Sesame Street. Sarah was clearly getting hungry and started pawing at me and rooting around in the chestal region. At one point she snagged my top with her wee fingers and pulled with gusto. I laughed and dipped her again, trying to adjust my dress while tickling her tummy. She was positioned horizontally to me and I dipped her and blew a raspberry on her tum. When I came up from the dip, with the bundle of baby pressed in my arms, Jakob was looking at me, with wide horrified eyes. "Why are you doing that?" he asked. "What? Tickling her?" He shook his head and glared. "Why are you feeding her WITH YOUR BOOBS!?!" I looked down. It did indeed look as if I were feeding her, from where he stood especially. Hi. Never a redder shade of blush was I in all my life, I'm sure of it. I died. I stammered, as if caught doing something naughty, feeling horribly guilty, trying desperately to fix my dress and blubbered that I wasn't feeding her, that she was just laying sideways and we were playing, that I wouldn't breastfeed her, that's Mommy's job, etc etc etc. I was MORTIFIED. Jakob looked at me with narrow eyes, clearly not believing a word I was saying. Oh the horror, the shame. Called out by a three year old for something I was not actually guilty of doing. Changing the subject, I sing-songed that it was dinner time and how many Dino Nuggets did he want, tra la la? Later we walked to the store to look for Pez for his free-from-a-nice-but-unclear-on-the-concept-saleslady-in-an-antique-store Pez dispenser, but ended up with the Jellies, which did fit in the dispenser, but kept shooting out onto the sidewalk, and distressing the poor kid along the way. Luckily all that walking, talking, lamenting the lost Jellies (there were more, don't worry, I'm not that mean), and story reading eclipsed the earlier horror (for me, anyway).
Jess told me that the next morning she heard Jakob talking in his sleep: Something about "Amber, Amber" and Jelly Beans. I told her that I was relieved it was the jelly beans that crept into his tiny psyche, and not the misunderstanding about the inappropriate boob feeding. God, I would die.
3 comments:
One time I was playing an innocent game of peekaboo with a kitten, putting little Maurice under my shirt, then peekabooing him through my neckhole. I happened to be braless. Mid-peekaboo, I feel something odd (and at the time, totally unfamiliar) in the nippular area. Yup, the kitty was nursing. My cousin, who's cat it was, I think pretty much had the same look on his face as your little charge had on his. Shock, disgust, disbelief. Except I had actually breastfed his cat.
OH MY GOD
You said you posted something on my blog, Michelle, but you gave no indication of the tone, content, nor the fact that I would practically crap my pants reading it. Jesus, I'm dying over here.
I was dying reading this entry but then came to leave a comment and am cracking up even more at the first comment. Nothing I can say will top that! How lucky those Watson's are to have Aunty Amby!
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