Oh, Time magazine, how I had forgotten you existed outside of outdated copies I flip through at the dentist's office.
By now, you've seen it, the cover with the lady in skinny jeans breast feeding her tall 3-year-old, while he stands on a chair.
Is that actually how she does it at home? Does she have a whole series of adjustable height chairs to make allowances for growth spurts? Just how long do they both stand? (No one seems to be able to tell me).
And how will that 3-year old feel when he is in junior high and some other kid whips out a copy of Time magazine and makes the connection that the pimply 13-year old who is his lab partner was also photographed with his mother's boobie in his mouth?
But anyway, back to the issue at hand, boobies.
It is always about the boobies. It is about the boobies when we are 12 years old and get our first training bra. It is about the boobies when we stuff that training bra to wear a strapless dress to the school dance. It is about the boobies when they really big or really small or in between. Spring Break is boobie central with bikini tops and flashing and wet t-shirt contests. We worry about cancer in our boobies. We spend hundreds and thousands of dollars and hours finding bras for our boobies. And of course, we fret over how gigantic our boobies get when pregnant and then whether or not to breast feed.
Boobies. boobies. boobies.
I breast fed both my girls (against all odds, I might add. They were preemies. The breast pump nursed before my daughters). And yeah, I believe that every mother should breast feed, because well, that is what your boobies are actually for. And yeah, I also believe that if you don't breast feed you are an amazing mother as well. Because you feed your babies--with food and love. Just like I did.
And even though I breast fed, my boobies have nothing to do with how my daughters will remember me as a mother. They will remember that they were fed and loved and supported and yelled at when they acted like lunatics. They will remember all the amazing things we've done together. They will remember all of this and never think much about my boobies. As an adult, I give very little thought to my mother's boobies. Yeah, she has them. Good for her. And yeah, she breastfed me, good for her too.
I am mother enough. And it has absolutely nothing to do with my boobies.
We are all mother enough. Sleep with your kid until he is 21 and married. Breast feed your daughter until she is old enough to lactate herself. Wear your husband in a baby bjorn. Carry your bull dog in a sling. Do whatever you want. But, don't judge me. Or yourself. Or your neighbor.
And seriously, don't breast feed standing up, I am certain it is bad for your back.