BEWBIES!

*I am going to talk about breasts so if that makes you uncomfortable please skip this post. Thanks!*

After L came to live with us, I experienced an unexpected dilemma. It was about my breasts. Particularly in relation to a baby that I had neither birthed nor nursed. Maybe I am completely crazy, but I felt a little weird holding her against my bare chest. She had never been breastfed but I thought she might spontaneously try and that totally creeped me out.

Not that nursing a baby is creepy, I completely support breast-feeding, even in public if it's modest (hey, who doesn't have trouble not gawking at bare breasts in public?). It's just she wasn't my baby yet and all of the sudden I thought about these parts of my anatomy in a completely different way.

I am sure almost every parent has realized it is sometimes easier, and more practical when you and baby are covered in food/vomit/excrement/etc., to take a baby into the shower with you for bathing than doing the whole baby-bath or sink thing. It's fun and cute at first, getting the little tub ready and taking pictures. But when they get big enough to start flailing around, grabbing at things and splashing, it's not always such an adorable task.

One of us would get into the shower the other would hand the smelly, sticky, crusty baby in and a few minutes later, Voila! From behind a steamy curtain, a soft, fresh, clean-smelling, smiling baby would emerge. Catch it in a big towel and the world is right again.

When it was my first turn to do the shower thing, I had no qualms, until I was actually holding L against my chest. She was wiggling around and cooing, grabbing at the water drops. Then she got all warm and cozy and cuddled up to me, her cheek resting on one boob. Her little hand resting on my other boob.

Again, I truly believe it is a totally natural, normal, nurturing, and necessary thing for a mother to hold a baby or small child skin to skin. But I was not a mother and this baby was a stranger. Also she was not a tiny infant. She was now a very active, determined, and inquisitive 7 month-old. What do kids want to do every time they think they see a button? Push it of course, and that's what she did.

Poke, poke, poke, (baby giggle), smack, smack, smack (more giggling). How come she was relaxed and almost asleep in the shower when daddy-to-be is holding her against his chest but with me she is playing her version of whack-a-mole? She kept prodding and looking up at me expectantly, what do these toys do? No flashing lights or funny sounds.

Upon reflection, I suppose I could have just ignored it entirely and she might have stopped but apparently I felt compelled to make it game. I think I was worried I might have the wrong reaction that would affect her negatively somehow. Each time she poked, I would say "beep, beep" or "honk, honk".

From then on, it was her favorite game. Whether or not I was clothed. She would get mad, fussing loudly and furrowing her brow, when I wouldn't play. Always, it would have to be in the grocery store check-out line or at appointments with the social worker. She tried it on everyone, men, women, children, and when they didn't respond she would poke harder and whine. Many times, I found myself awkwardly trying to explain why my baby was obsessed with poking boobs. As she got older, she would point to her own chest and say "haw haw, bee bee". Eventually, she forgot about it and so did I.

However, I was reminded the other day by G. I exited the shower and leaned over the gate to kiss his forehead. I think I actually saw a light bulb spark on in his brain, right through his saucer-like, olive-green eyes. He reached up with his little claw hand and grabbed my boob, laughing maniacally, refusing to let go. It wasn't the first time he'd seen me sans clothes but, suddenly, it was the funniest thing he had ever seen and still is. Now when I am dressing, he will point and giggle, giving me a giant silly grin, making squeezing motions with his little claw hands.

I have learned a few things about myself through all of this. I am now much more comfortable with my own body, especially around my children. I love it when they snuggle and nuzzle into my chest for comfort and closeness. Lastly, and possibly most important of all, my boobs are not clown horns.


This post lovingly and humorously dedicated to my friend Kaylyn S.