Mall Madness

"Did you think we'd ever be sitting side by side on a mall bench breastfeeding our babies?"

Yesterday was mall day with my friend and also new mommy Oscar. It was to be a big day since I haven't gone out too much with Stinkerbug (aka Princess Pruneface) just because she's such a difficult baby. But hey, we figured in a mall we'd be among many mommies and babies and it's always loud. If one or both babies start screaming, who really cares, right?

The strategy is to learn how to juggle holding a fussy baby while pushing an empty stroller for as long as you can before plopping a calmer baby back down, hoping for the peace to prevail.

We had lunch and walked around. When it was time to nurse we visited the "family room" located in the mall washrooms for some privacy. It turned out to be a dingy corner in the washroom with two worn and stained chairs and a plexiglass enclosure in what could only be described as a windex-deprived jail for toddlers. We decided to head for an empty bench out in the mall.

As we sat there next to each other, boob juice flowing, babies a-drinking and chatted away it occurred to me how odd the situation was. Not in the sense that we were doing anything wrong, but this was a girl I had known since I was a kid. We weren't always friends and lost touch several times over the years, but never did I ever think we'd be together in a situation like now. How far we've come.

Despite all the unpleasant bits to our day; tired arms (both), projectile vomiting (mine), giant poopy diaper (hers), fussy and screaming (both) it was also very enjoyable to be able to spend time with a friend who is going through the exact same experiences... although her baby is several weeks older than Stinkerbug so she can actually pass along tips to help me out.

Yesterday was a fun day, even as we were leaving and had to strap two screaming babes into the back seat of her car. We couldn't help but giggle as they bawled and wailed away like they were singing some dissonant duet until the car ride calmed them down to a drowsy surrender. Thanks for the date, Oscar.