Boob discovery #1:

Baby is getting bored of the boobies. Not the lovely meals that issue forth from the boobies, which she insists upon having at the ready, but the booby itself. Once upon a time (two weeks ago) she couldn’t be pried away once her face was planted therein; now, well, now there are so many more INTERESTING things in the world and so why would one want to keep one’s face planted in a boob? (I know, I know, many men, the Husband included, would gasp at the heresy of such a question, because such is the life that they believe awaits them beyond the gates of Heaven.)

Giving Baby her breakfast/brunch/lunch/high-tea/dinner/bedtime-snack has become somewhat complicated now that Baby is more interested in, well, pretty much anything other than the boob. A meal generally begins nicely, but within seconds – oh, look, what is that? A bookshelf? – head bobs back down for a nip, and then – and where did you say Daddy was today? Is he in this room? I can’t see him – back in for a nip – hey I’ve never noticed that plant before; does it need watering? – nip, nip – oh, look, Mommy, you have hands too! – nip – hey, sunlight! – and so on and so forth.

There is also the newfound distraction of conversation. Having discovered that Mommy is always right there gazing at her from the other side of the booby, much as she would if she were on the other side of a candlelit dinner table, Baby now enjoys a good conversation during mealtime. (This, however, I have to say, is one the more heart-clenchingly adorable moments in any given day – the sweet little grin from Baby as she realizes that there I am AGAIN to accompany her meal and then she delivers the welcoming coo and then the little monologue about her day and a comment or two on how the creme fraiche is really fine today. She. Is. Adorable.)

Enter the nursing necklace:

If you thought that the days of deploying sparkly things to attract attention to your breasts were over, well, think again. In much the same way that Lejaby bras and plunging necklines draw and hold men’s attention to one’s decolletage, the nursing necklace draws and holds baby’s attention to the milk torpedo.

And it works, by God, it works.

I’m happy about this for the obvious ‘whatever works’ reasons, but can’t help but wonder a) whether this signals a prediliction on her part for really gaudy jewellry that will be only be curable by exposure to Tiffany (which involves its own challenges, um, $$$$), and b) whether that little pink dice (lower right) is going to lead to future gambling problems (when she discovers that she finds odd but profound comfort at the side of a craps table.)

But, hey, what with the future Ambien addiction and all, what’s one more item for her to add to the list of ways her mother messed her up?

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Boob discovery #2:

Decongestants dry up milk supply, because, uh, THAT’S WHAT THEY DO. Dry things up. I only discovered this fact AFTER I read this. It’s been a rough couple of days. The flashiest nursing necklace in the world couldn’t have distracted Baby from the fact that the booby-juice, it was a-comin’-in SLOW.

So that thing I said about taking the goddamned medicine? Disregard.

And for future reference, don’t listen to anything I say. Or at least, wait a few days to give me time to discover what exactly was wrong about whatever it was that I said. I’m totally flying blind here.

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Boob discovery #3:

I’d tether balloons to the boobies, Bedazzle them, tattoo little happy faces on them, anything to make Baby happy.

Okay, LIE. I didn’t just discover that and it was really just an excuse for another Totally Gratuitous Baby Picture:

I got this adorable baby and big breasts now? My cup runneth over…

Originally posted at Her Bad Mother, 2006. Copyright Catherine Connors.