Church Nursing

March 8, 2010

So we’re sitting in church last night and I get the bright idea to nurse Baby Huey.  Except that he’s not a baby.  He’s a densely-packed, hairy mass of almost-2-year-old-ness that still feels the need to suck juice from my body.

If we went to any. other. church. I wouldn’t be able to nurse him while minding my own business, listening to the sermon.

Because……did I mention that he’s huge?

And I need to spread out over 3 chairs so that he’s not kicking people in the stomach while he nurses?

So I’m nursing him, right?  And at one point I kinda look around the sanctuary because I think I hear someone giggling.  And it wasn’t kid-giggling. 

And I notice that people are kinda looking at me,  smiling,  which doesn’t usually happen during a sermon about the end times, if you know what I mean.

And then I realize that it’s not normal for most babies to rest their legs on their mom’s shoulders while nursing.  Or rearrange the diamond on her necklace so that it is correctly placed right on the middle of her chain, underneath her chin.

So people are laughing at us.  And I really wish that I could stand up and tell everyone that this is nothin’.  Usually he’s also running a matchbox car across my chest while humming a song in three languages AND contemplating the existence of red shifts.


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