Unsolicited

I set out to buy some new tops the other day since my proportions have changed drastically since I got pregnant and my upper half is going to remain gargantuan for so long as I breastfeed. I strolled the G in his super deluxe coolio baby ride up and down the aisles of blouses grabbing everything that I thought was a possible match. By time I was ready for the dressing room I had at least 25 shirts hanging from the stroller handle; I'm surprised the stroller didn't tip. The fitting room attendant did not look pleased since there was an 8 item limit for the dressing room. Too bad. I'd be darned if I had to go back out the rows and rows of racks of clothing after I tried on each batch of tops.

Gavin didn't explode in protest to the shopping until I was down to my last 2 shirts to try on. I quickly tried them on all the while telling G I was almost done and that he was going to get to eat really soon as if he understood a word of what I was telling him. After pulling my own sweater back over my head for the last time I took one last look in the dressing room mirror. Oh the horror!

Dry weather + low humidity + dry hair + repeatedly pulling sweaters over ones head = severe static electricity.

My hair was beyond flat on top. It was as if the bottom of the strands were pulling with all their might the roots of the hair. My hair was plastered to my face and I couldn't pull it back, my eyes were watering from the static electricity in my hair and the bottoms of the strands were floating off into space. Just thinking about it is making my eyes water.

I could have fed Gavin in the dressing room but I really didn't want to hang out in the dressing room for 20 more minutes, besides I just had to pay for my shirts and be on my way. Unfortunately a line of customers swelled in front of the cashier lanes and I was at the end with a screaming baby.

A kindly woman behind me gave me a kind look befitting of a kindly woman as I picked up Gavin to calm him down. The woman in front of me smiled but it didn't seem very kindly. She gave me some unsolicited advice. Normally I just smile and nod when people give me lame advice. But since pregnancy changed my disposition (which some were hoping was temporary) I thought to myself, I'm not going to let this woman think I appreciate her advice nor that I think it is correct.

Her suggestion was something that she used to try with her own children for when they were fussy. She would carry around suckers with a spiral handle so the baby could hold it and suck on it.

Really.

I said, "Uh, no. He's way too young for sugar. He's only 3 months."

Not so helpful stranger: "I'm just saying." (that's it. She's just saying).

Next time I'm going to give an answer my friend Heather suggested: tell them that I have a nip of whiskey before I breastfeed him to knock him out. I think I'll take it one level more tell them that when I make his bottle I mix in a bit of cough syrup. That'll make 'em choke. Choke then call CPS.

After I paid for my goods I went to the Starbucks around the corner to give Gavin the goods. I looked around the tiny Starbucks for a cushy chair to sit in for feeding and there was one upholstered chair open - right next to a young man reading a book. Poor guy. The one comfortable chair was next to him. I had no choice.

I plopped my bum down in the chair, threw my bebe au lait (nursing cover) on and fed Gavin while sipping my cocoa and reading the paper. The young man didn't even blink. He stayed still save for turning the pages of his book. Gavin was hungry so he wasn't eating quietly. There was much lip smacking, slurping and grunting going on. The young man reading his book couldn't avoid what was going on under my bebe au lait. I must say the situation made my heart snicker.