26 Months: “Mama take off her shirt! Mama have a belly button! Mama take off her
bra! Mama have nom noms! Yaaaaay nom-noms! Mama have big nom-noms! Mama’s
nom-noms brown! Mama’s nom-noms yellow! Mama’s nom-noms not fit! Mama’s
nom-nom’s too big! Mama’s nom-noms too big again! Mama pick up bra! Mama close
nom-noms! Bye-bye, nom-noms! Mama put on her shirt!”
In case bikini shopping wasn’t traumatizing enough, I once made the mistake of bringing my two-year-old into the dressing room with me. She, unfortunately, learned to talk long before she learned discretion, and wasn’t weaned until well after she had started talking and toddling. The unexpected consequence of this was that she loudly narrated it as I struggled to find a bikini top that might somehow accommodate my swollen, nursing-mama boobs.
No amount of “Shhh,” or “Quiet, honey,” or “Wait a minute,” would cut it. The more I shushed, the louder my oblivious toddler got. The sound of giggles from outside the dressing room grew more and more audible as she trailed into new descriptions. My tot clapped her hands with enthusiasm as she sang out, “Mama have biiiiig nom-noms! Yay! Yay, nom-noms!”
After I was fully dressed, and had concluded that breastfeeding boobs change size way too much to know which bikini I should get, I waited for the laughter to stop before stepping out of the dressing room. I had to make sure that I didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone who had just heard my breasts loudly described as large and yellow-and-brown. Quietly, carefully, I lifted the toddler onto my hip, unlatched the door, peeked out… and saw three blushing middle-aged women, hands cupped over their mouths, trying not to laugh.
“I am so sorry,” I said desperately, wanting to disappear.
“No, don’t be!” one of them said, “She made my day! She is so smart, being able to talk so well at her age! It’s so cute and funny!”
In case bikini shopping wasn’t traumatizing enough, I once made the mistake of bringing my two-year-old into the dressing room with me. She, unfortunately, learned to talk long before she learned discretion, and wasn’t weaned until well after she had started talking and toddling. The unexpected consequence of this was that she loudly narrated it as I struggled to find a bikini top that might somehow accommodate my swollen, nursing-mama boobs.
No amount of “Shhh,” or “Quiet, honey,” or “Wait a minute,” would cut it. The more I shushed, the louder my oblivious toddler got. The sound of giggles from outside the dressing room grew more and more audible as she trailed into new descriptions. My tot clapped her hands with enthusiasm as she sang out, “Mama have biiiiig nom-noms! Yay! Yay, nom-noms!”
After I was fully dressed, and had concluded that breastfeeding boobs change size way too much to know which bikini I should get, I waited for the laughter to stop before stepping out of the dressing room. I had to make sure that I didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone who had just heard my breasts loudly described as large and yellow-and-brown. Quietly, carefully, I lifted the toddler onto my hip, unlatched the door, peeked out… and saw three blushing middle-aged women, hands cupped over their mouths, trying not to laugh.
“I am so sorry,” I said desperately, wanting to disappear.
“No, don’t be!” one of them said, “She made my day! She is so smart, being able to talk so well at her age! It’s so cute and funny!”
No comments:
Post a Comment