My Second Mother’s Day

My second Mother’s Day was amazing. We actually MADE it to church (toting both kids is a challenge—and we are both usually exhausted). I got a boot-shaped (like galoshes!) planter with a purple geranium. Some crazy old coot took the last watering can shaped one last year, so it was nice to cash in. A2 was well-behaved (since 4 1/2 month olds are just the naughtiest things) and A1 sat quietly for a decent amount of time before being overcome with the urge to run around the back of the church. For the first time in three years, I actually KNEW and the hymns and could sight read myself! I sang in my school’s junior and senior high choirs as well as taking private voice lessons in college, but never could predict the impending pitch of each note as we sang.

Once we got in the car, we headed to Bob Evans for lunch. I had a tasty garden omelet with hollandaise sauce, home fries, and a cup of fresh fruit with a fruit smoothie. (I’m a Celiac, so that’s what’s up with the fruit.) My husband brought my Boppy with me, since A2 still doesn’t have quite enough back strength to nurse without it. Midway through, she cried for food. I just stuck her on in front of the entire restaurant. I really didn’t and continue not to give a damn, since the kid is hungry. Suddenly , this creepy looking bus boy comes into my peripheral view and proceeds to hit on me in front of my entire family:

Bus Boy: “Hi, how old is your baby?”
Mama J (Me, gesturing down to A2): “She’s four and a half months.” I looked over at A1. “She’ll be two in July.”
BB: “You have a nice family. Happy Mother’s Day!”
MJ: “Thank you.”
BB: “I like your necklace. Where did you get it?”
MJ: “Kohl’s.”
BB: “I’ve never seen a necklace like that before.”

The people at the table in front of us stared at me for two minutes after the exchange. Ok, folks. Nothing to see here.

Daddy J: “I think he was trying to look at your tits.”
MJ: “Yeah, well, there was nothing to see.”

I had a sweatshirt over my boobs, so other than my conspicuous Boppy, no one would know I was nursing. Bitch, please. Besides, I didn’t really care.

I decided to let A1 taste my strawberry smoothie. She liked it. She liked it so much, in fact, that she wouldn’t return it to me! I tried to take her kiddie cup full of iced tea, she had a fit. Then, when I attempted to take my smoothie, she screamed. You know, the toddler scream mothers fear at the grocery store (and everyone else hates). Then, for a brief moment, I could feel eyes on me. Daddy J gave her my smoothie back. We politely asked the waitress (who is 19-20 years old, and won’t look me in the eye after I NIP’d) to get another kiddie cup. Behold, free drink for me! All was well.




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