I never thought I'd be the type who'd feel comfortable whipping out my boobs in the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant, but having a baby changes everything. Well, maybe not everything, but certainly one's "modesty quotient" goes wayyy down. For instance, on our way to Lexington this past weekend--a trip I was reluctant to take due to Celie's issues and her potential for crying--I found myself breastfeeding all over the place. From Tuscaloosa to Tennessee, Celie's hunger gave a whole new meaning to "fill ‘er up" as we made ourselves at home in the corners of various Speedways, BPs, and travel centers. At first, I was very concerned that Mike choose a good spot, somewhere away from other cars and out of people’s view. At one point we even got into a bit of a tussle over what might qualify: By the dumpster? Or out there by the tree? After a while, you’d have thought we were doing something wrong by the way were seeking out the same locations that might appeal to a druggie or prostitute. Was it for my comfort or those that might pass by? I’m not sure, but before too long I didn’t care much about either. By the time we reached Kentucky, the only thing I needed was a complete stop for the shirt to come up and the boobs to come out. When your baby’s really hungry, nothing else seems to matter.
I also (re)discovered how great our friends are. I’d always known I loved Jerzy, Mike and Margi but until this trip I didn’t realize how much like family they feel. We arrived to the Jacobs’ on Sunday night to a house full of great food and it was just like we’d never left. Celie was awake but getting hungry and while I’ve gotten used to having to go in another room to feed her in other settings (even my own home), I didn’t need to there. Not only did I feel fine feeding her with them around, they did too. It just wasn’t a big deal. We sat in the living room and later over dinner, drinking and talking while Celie ate, too. We even discovered that she and Jerzy have the same hairstyle. Now that’s what I call best friends.
