The Adventures of
David
Elizabeth
and Leif

NOTE: This blog contains some references to breastfeeding. In consideration of those for whom the word “nipple” brings on the heebie jeebies (and you know who you are), I have taken the following measure to ensure your comfort: all mention of…that word…will be spelled “nppl”. Please read on.

Last night David gave Leif his first bottle of my pumped “product.” It was very cute.

Now, many books on nursing and baby raising warn against introducing a bottle too early to avoid what they call “nppl confusion.” On observing Leif last night, there was absolutely no confusion whatsoever: by the look on his face it was clear that he knew exactly which was the impostor. He didn’t seem confused by the rubber nppl, but rather slightly offended. Then intrigued.

While Leif sorted out how he felt about the alternative nppl, I began to experience what no book I have read discloses: nppl jealousy. That’s right, I looked at that smug little bugger with my son falteringly but eagerly attached and thought, “You faker!!” It was visceral. Now, I don’t begrudge David one second of his pleasure in feeding and cuddling with his son, and I am certainly excited for what this event can mean for my own freedom…but don’t ask me to give one iota of credit to that perky little charlatan. Rather, I praise my son’s innate ability to adapt, receiving all of life’s shocking changes with grace and couth.

So, after the successful feeding, I stood at the kitchen sink skewering my rubber colleague with a bottle brush and running it under scalding water while, unbeknownst to me, Leif’s excellent daddy put the full-tummied milkman to bed. Later, in the middle of brushing my teeth, I broke down in tears because I hadn’t gotten to say goodnight…all this after breaking down earlier in the day because being a new mom has cut into the erstwhile simple pleasures of life, such as adequate sleep and personal hygiene.

My point is this: these mommy hormones mean business, so DON’T MESS WITH ME YOU LITTLE PLASTIC POSER!!

And yet, who can blame me for jealously wanting to take care of this little guy?: (I love a man in uniform…)