Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Define "Indecent Exposure"

My house is crazy regularly. But yesterday was extraordinarily chaotic.

Combine these elements in your mind, if you will:
Industrial fans were blowing, attempting to dry out flooded carpet in the basement--again.
Vacuum was running.
Dishwasher repairman was desperately trying to rid my appliance of foreign matter.
Dog was barking from her kennel (Roxie does not enjoy unfamiliar men in her domain).
Hyrum was discovered hiding in a corner, defecating; then we moved to the bathroom for a little "positive parenting."
Baby Eve was almost patiently waiting for Mom to find a moment to feed her.

Ding dong.
Dish satellite TV man, here to fix all our viewing difficulties, just in time for the Super Bowl and the Olympics. YAY!

I sent him in the right direction, then I exclaimed with delight at the now-functioning and indispensable dish "sanitizer." Vacuum turned off, paper signed, Randy the repairman left. I returned to my demanding children--clean Diego underpants, clean pants, all check.
Poor Baby Eve, she tried to be good, but her little tummy needed to be filled.
Hmmm. Where's Sergio, the dependable Dish dude? He's outside, evaluating the satellite's alignment or some crazy thing. I'm sure he'll be out there a while, so I found my favorite seat on the couch and got ready to nurse my baby. Happy sounds. I love those happy sounds and kneading fists.

Disclaimer here: I'm not the most modest person on earth when I nurse my babies. Having done this seven times eight hundred or so feedings, I find modesty a bit invasive. I want to look at my darling daughter and smile and laugh while she eats. Call me selfish. It's not like I'm Rose on Titanic, or anything. But all the cover-ups and blankets and "hooter hiders" are inconvenient and a pain.
But, since there was a strange guy roaming the property, I did grab a small receiving blanket and not uncarefully I covered up a little.
Just as we were settling in with Hyrum by my side, the front door opened and in sauntered Sergio, papers and instructions in hand, heading directly for us. What to do?
Well, what can you do? I just sat there as he asked me to sign here, and here, and here, and initial here. And do I have any questions?

Yes, just one. "You don't have any kids, do you?"
No, why?
Just wondering.
Clueless, that guy. But now I can watch David Bromstad in HD.



  1. heehee

    Just another day in the life of a breast-feeding, potty-training, appliance-restoring, cable-ready mom.


    PS. My husband's best friend married a young woman who was very new age-y and "natural." She never covered up at all when she nursed, which made my husband somewaht uncomfortable. (She happened to be a beautiful woman, which probably didn't help matters.) The corker was when my very conservative, straight-laced in-laws invited them over for dinner once. I will never forget the look on my father-in-law's face when she just whipped out the old boob and nursed at the dinner table. I've never seen anyone so embarrassed in my life.

  2. HA!!!!!!!!!!!! That closing phrase alone was brilliance!!! Glad to know that you made it through in one piece and Sergio is probably scarred for life, hahahaha.

  3. Ah, This is perfect! Dispells
    some misnomers I've read