Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Boobies, Babies & A Nue-noone

For whatever reason, maybe because the sky is blue and the grass is still green? Because she hasn't been watching many Dora DVDs lately?, my daughter has of late had an endless fascination with my breasts. She calls them boobies. She wants to look at them and when she pulls my shirt down to get a better view, she giggles with a downward flash of eyelashes and says "Mine a baby. Dat mine boobies, Mummy." How she ever figured this out I will never know because I breastfed her for only two weeks before deciding "Ow, ow, ow.....this isn't supposed to hurt like this...ow, ow, ow"....tears streaming down my face, biting on a facecloth to keep from screaming and then relief - "Get this baby a bottle of formula right FUCKING NOW!!"

A vigorous nurser is what the doctor told me. Vigorous my ass...it felt like I was being chewed apart by metal jaws used to capture wild bears. I couldn't figure it out because I breastfed my son with no difficulty. I mean, it's not like I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Then again, this was a girl baby. And in my experience, having one of each, THEY ARE VERY DIFFERENT FROM EACH OTHER.

Making the decision to give up trying to breastfeed was, emotionally, very difficult, and I only felt better about it after finally making up my mind. I remembered reading somewhere that the father should give baby the first few bottles because even though she may be hungry, it doesn't smell like mommy and baby might not take it. So, we got the bottle ready, and my hubby sat in the rocking chair, our precious little cargo in his lap and damned if she didn't reach for the bottle to bring it closer to her mouth. I burst into tears, "You little bitch!"

In short order, my breasts healed and sharing feedings with Daddy and Big Brother meant they too got special bonding time with this new little one, who already sensed we were wrapped around her sweet little fingers.

Last night she and I had cuddles before her bedtime, and once again, she tried to pull my shirt down to see "her" boobies. Then she pointed at her own chest and said with a silly grin, "Not you (r) boobies, Mummy. Dat MINE." And then she asked me, "Mummy, where mine baby come out the tummy?" I answered that she came out of Mummy's Nue-noone.

Her reply? "Mine not like dat. Mine a penis." Clearly, she has everything figured out.

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