Feeding Time

"Mother knows breast." ~ Author Unknown

I'm giving up on the template for this darn thing ... for now, anyway. I'm sad to say that I'm soo glad it's Monday -- this weekend was a complete doozy. J and I were at each other's throats for most of it, and nothing we had planned worked out quite as we'd hoped. Ohwell, we'll survive.

Because neither of us wanted to cook last night and it was already too late to eat anywhere decent, we found ourselves at Taco Cabana for dinner. Now, I'm a big fan of Taco C, but the people there never cease to amaze / entertain / scare the living crap out of / surprise me. Depends on the day. And last night was no exception.

Inside was freezing so we decided to sit on the small patio. J went inside to wait on the food, while I absentmindly began wiping dried guacamole off the table. Two young ladies -- maybe in their mid twenties -- were sitting at the next table. One had a boy about seven, the other had a baby in a carrier. I tried to drown out the boy's shouting by staring at the passing cars.

I heard one lady say something about feeding the baby. A few moments later I happened to look over, and noticed she was holding the baby against her with one arm and eating queso with the other. It took me a minute to realize that she wasn't holding a bottle for baby. She was breastfeeding. With no blanket. On the patio. While people were eating at tables all around them.

I must have had a sour look on my face when J came outside with the food. Thankfully, he blocked my view. I just couldn't believe it -- breastfeeding in a restaurant?? Sure, we were at a fast-food joint, but still. Have a little respect for those dining around you. Use a bottle, feed in the car, at least don't sit facing the door to the inside where everyone can see you.

Am I wrong to be disgusted?

Stall-ing

"If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be sweet and wipe the seat." ~ Unknown

J and I finally got started on our Christmas shopping tonight. I know, I know -- but what's life without a little procrastination? We got off to a good start (thank God for gift cards) and needed to make a pit stop before trudging our way through the rest of the mall.

"Why don't you go first, and I'll hold the bags," J offered. "Then we can switch."

"I'll just take them with me," I said, "and hang them on the purse hooks."

"You guys have hooks? That doesn't seem safe. What if someone steals your stuff?"

I laughed. "The hooks are in the stalls silly."

"Wow, that's cool."

As we parted ways, I was feeling pretty hoity-toity about women's restrooms. They are pretty spiffy, what with their fancy purse hooks and smell-good soaps. I approached the first open stall and took a quick step back. Disgusting. How hard is it to flush a toilet? Shuddering, I stepped to the next one. The seat was covered in wads of toilet paper. I stepped to the next stall. Water all over the floor. The next one revealed a pee-covered seat. It took four more stalls to find a toilet worth hovering over.

My bubble burst, I met J in the food court. Women may have fancy purse hooks, but sometimes I'd give anything to be able to pee standing up.

If Women Ruled the World

"Women really do rule the world. They just haven't figured it out yet. When they do, and they will, we're all in big big trouble." ~ 'Doctor Leon', drleons.com

Since we have nothing in the pantry besides canned pineapple and dog treats, J and I decided we would hit up the grocery store before dinner. We never quite made it -- instead of veering left for the store, we were distracted by the pink glow of Taco Cabana across the street.

While stuffing our faces with chips and queso, we started chatting about babies and such. J's cousin had called me last night to excitedly exclaim that she was pregnant (her second) and wonder if we'd started trying yet.* In J's family, there are five kids under the age of four -- only one is a boy. Which means holidays are spent listening to the oldest shouting Taylor Swift in between screams over who gets to play with the Dora doll.

J's really hoping that she has a boy. "Could you imagine another girl?" he said in between mouthfuls of taco. "You girls are going to take over the world."

"Would that be soo bad?" I said jokingly.

"Are you kidding?" he shuddered. "If women ruled the world, nothing would get done and everything would smell pretty."

I had to think about that for a minute. When J does a load of dishes, I get every single detail including the when and how, complete with sound effects. But when I do a load of laundry, I just do it. For all J knows, the clean undies made it from the floor to the washing machine, to the dryer and then magically into the drawer by themselves.

So, is it less that women won't get anything done and more that we don't complain as much as men, therefore it seems like we don't get as much accomplished?



*That would be a big, fat N-O.