I don't know where this was published but I found it adorable and thought
I'd share it with those needing a chuckle.
Lisa Dugan,
LLLL SNJ
> PICASSO OR MONET WITH YOUR MEAL, MISS?
> By Susan Reinhardt
> Published 01/26/00
>
> We do not live in the Bible Belt.
>
> We live in the Bible Bra.
>
> Never have I encountered so much meddling as when people discover I'm
still
> nursing a child who's got eight teeth, a head full of hair and the
ability
> to string sentences.
>
> By their appalled reactions, one might assume I was putting a teen-ager
to
> breast, not a 20-month-old toddler.
>
> A couple of months ago I was in a department store restroom, discreetly
> nursing so that shopping could continue in relative peace. A woman walked
in
> and stared with disdain.
>
> "How old is that child?" she snapped as she placed her parcels on the
> counter.
>
> "She's in middle school," I lied, kissing the top of my tot's head. The
> woman made some muffled comment just as the water came rushing from the
> faucet.
>
> And it's not just strangers who offer unsolicited commentary concerning
the
> goings-on of others' glands.
>
> It's friends and relatives, including - and especially - my mother,
who've
> chirped for the past year, "When are you gonna wean that child?" Then
they
> are horrified when they see her tugging at my blouse, reaching into a
> battered brassiere as if fishing for popcorn at the bottom of a bag.
>
> When my toddler purrs, "Miiiiiilk," in that little Southern accent of
hers,
> you can almost feel the wind from the sighing and head shaking these
> relatives deem their duty to submit.
>
> How could they be offended by such an adorable act, such a natural,
loving
> expression of motherhood? How could they not know that this is good for
her,
> good for me, good for society. Good for the thighs.
>
> Last August when the baby was 15 months old, she stayed with my parents
> overnight, and Mama did her best to pry the child from my Playtex. She
> offered her Coke, Kool-Aid, candy, chocolate milk.
>
> Later in the day as the three of them were out by the pool - baby in
Dad's
> lap - my parents discovered just how attached to nursing this child was.
>
> Daddy had removed his shirt and was slouching enough that his chest drew
> interest. The baby hungrily honed in on his ample cleavage. In her eyes,
> lactation seemed possible. She leaned in for a closer look and then a
scream
> split the air.
>
> "She saw those old black hairs and red moles and couldn't stop crying,"
my
> mother said, laughing till tears filled her eyes.
>
> I told my mother and her troop of hens that the American Academy of
> Pediatricians, not to mention La Leche Leaguers all over the world, agree
> the breast is best for as long as a mother and child feel comfortable
with
> the arrangement.
>
> And though nursing is still a pleasurable experience most of the time, I
> buckled to pressure and tried telling my child, "All gone," or "No more
> milk, Sweetheart."
>
> She'd look up with those huge brown eyes and they'd fill with tears and
that
> would be it.
>
> Last week, after a few sleepless nights of her tugging and pecking as if
I
> were road kill, I decided to try weaning, at first employing the
traditional
> and doctor-recommended methods such as tapering off or shortening the
> feedings.
>
> When this didn't work, I listened to the voices of unreason.
>
> "Put a little vinegar on them," my mother-in-law said, so I did and it
> worked.
>
> For about five minutes.
>
> The next day, remembering how my baby cowered upon seeing the Abominable
> Snow Man in the "Rudolph" movie, I took a pack of washable Magic Markers
and
> drew the creature on my chest, one on each side, teeth included, hoping
> she'd be deterred.
>
> It worked.
>
> For about five minutes.
>
> Then she started laughing and pointing, saying, "Snowman," as she dove in
> for the kill. I washed quickly, before someone called Social Services,
and
> decided the mural method wasn't going to work either.
>
> The next day, as I sat in the rocker trying to relax, she toddled up with
a
> fist full of markers. She yanked my blouse to the side, pushed a red
Magic
> Marker into my hand, and said, "Snowman. Draw snowman, please."
>
> Now I've got two problems.
>
> A toddler who not only wants a meal at the Mammary, but also requests art
> and atmosphere to complete the dining experience.
>
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