Madonna and Child and Me: Breastfeeding in Church

It was a lovely sanctuary, golden and glittering, and Sophia charmed the people sitting around us by bouncing up and down in the pew to get a view of the altar. She gabbled during the Creed and crowed during the Alleluia. At the Passing of the Peace, all the little old ladies smiled and told us she was sweet. We kept the hymnal out of reach, but the family in front of us wasn't as quick, and their little one removed #631 and tried to eat it before they could pry the book from her hands. When Mass ended, a middle-aged man came up from where he'd been sitting far behind us.

"Are you new here?" he asked. Ah! How familiar. At Memorial, this is the point where we would be asked if we had just moved to town, and did we have a church, and would we like to grab lunch somewhere, and just say the word if we need anything, anything at all.

"We're from out of town," my mother-in-law said. "We're visiting."

"I have to tell you I was shocked by what I saw today," the man said. "Just shocked. You know, there are women's rooms for that kind of thing." He breathed heavily, huffing and puffing with rage. After a moment of silent confusion, we all realized that he was talking about how, during the homily, when Sophia started to cry, I took out a giant wrap and fed her beneath it. 

Our Mother Understands Children

A joint post by Ouisi & Dave

Ouisi:
Hey. You didn't respond to my text.

Dave:
You sent a text? Hang on. . . oh crap. "Send response by noon." Well, that didn't happen.

Ouisi:
Help me out here. I'm going to write about some of the things that makes Mom such a great parent.

Dave:
Um, panic. My brain just went completely blank.

Ouisi:
Okay, I'll start. One thing our home was defined by was a lack of electronic clutter. I grew up without constant TV and radio and other entertainment. Patrick grew up with that: all the time, at least two things turned up loud, and with nobody really paying attention to it. The multimedia was background noise. We both wanted to create a quiet home for our family where it's easy to focus and feel peaceful.

My Child, the Existential Philosopher

Mommy: What are we going to wear for our play date with Mr. Elias, Sophia?

Sophia: "Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity."

Mommy: How about this polka dotty pant and bodysuit set?

Sophia: "I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit."

Mommy: Hey, what's this? It's the Ralph Lauren romper we found at the thrift store for five dollars! It's classic! It's adorable! Does it still fit? Hang on--

Sophia: "Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do: and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun."

Mommy: It does fit! Ruffled tights. . . and a cotton Janie & Jack shirt with gathered cuffs. . . Look at you! You are so cute!

Sophia: Hrrrrrrrrrrrng.

Mommy: Oh, look. You just shot poop right out the back of your diaper and four inches up your back.

Sophia: "The best laid schemes of mice and men/ Go often awry,/ And leave us nothing but grief and pain,/ For promised joy!"