Confessions of a Domestic Failure

I took some decisive action to find my “mama tribe” today, and even by my standards it helped me achieve a new low.

Okay, so I was at the café, like always. It took me almost a full three minutes to cram my T. rex of a stroller through the door. The Mitax Marathon is trendy, but why, oh why, are the wheels so far apart? I felt like the business people on their phones and students tapping away on their computers enjoyed watching me almost dump Aubrey out onto the floor as I tipped the stroller to an angle to finally get myself in.

“No, no, don’t get up,” is what I hope my eyes said at the 20-plus people who remained glued to their seats staring at me while I struggled. I don’t expect help just because I’m a mom, but what happened to the whole “it takes a village” thing?

Back to the story.

Ten minutes later I was sitting down, vanilla latte in hand, when Aubrey started to fuss the way she always does when I’ve reached a pre-baby state of relaxation. A few twenty-year-olds turned to look at me and I could tell they were irritated. Obviously they were never babies and were born fully grown, so the sound of a human infant is completely foreign to them.

Or maybe they think a good mother would sedate her baby with tranquilizers before taking it out in public so no one would be subjected to the torture of hearing a baby get upset.

Either that, or my child’s cries were distracting them from their oh-so-important Facebook posts.

After one of them sighed loudly for the third time, I took the hint and started preparing to leave. But then I thought, Why should I have to vacate the premises every time Aubrey makes a sound? It’s not like she’s screaming her head off. No. I decided to handle it right there.

I picked Aubrey up out of her stroller and could tell right away that she was exhausted. It’s hard for me to get her to nap at home much less in a loud coffee shop full of judgy twenty-year-olds probably live tweeting my every move, but I was determined.

I cradled her firmly in my arms and draped a blanket across my shoulder and over her head to block out some of the light and started bouncing her. The Motherhood Gods must have smiled upon me because she fell asleep in ten seconds flat. I couldn’t believe it! I was finally becoming the kind of mom I’d always wanted to be: capable. My arm fell asleep and started to burn, and I was pretty sure it was going to fall off, but my kid was asleep and I had coffee. All was right in the world.

Then they walked in. The moms I’d seen at the park a few days earlier. My dream mommy group. My dream village. There were five of them. They all wore their babies and toddlers in a rainbow of amazing carriers: long strips of tie-dyed cloth, gorgeous prints. One of them pushed a double stroller. They held the door for her. See? Mom friends are a must. They walked in and sat at the table directly behind mine. I could barely breathe.

I knew it was my chance. I needed to say something. But what? Introduce myself? I took a few very nervous sips of my latte and tried to think of something to say. I took a deep breath and, right as I was about to turn around, a woman standing in front of me cleared her throat loudly.

I assumed my stroller was blocking her way.

“Sorry, do you need me to move my—” I began.

“Do you mind not doing THAT in here?” She twisted her lips and pointed at sleeping Aubrey.

I was legitimately confused. Let my baby sleep? Drink lattes while looking like a Dumpster? What was she talking about? And it dawned on me. She thought I was breastfeeding. My boobs have been drier than a raisin for months but she thought I was breastfeeding.

My mind raced as I tried to find just the right words, but before I could speak a voice behind me boomed, “SHE’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE.”

The moms. They came in like a wrecking ball and swarmed me before I could utter a single word.

A redhead in a maxi dress stood between me and the woman. “She has every right to feed her baby here. Breastfeeding in public is protected by law, or didn’t you know that?”

A mom in a blue sweatsuit chimed in, her arm protectively around a curly haired toddler in a yellow-and-green checkered wrap. “She’s not going anywhere and you have no right to ask her!”

People were turning around in their seats now. The whole café was watching and I think I saw one teenager filming with his phone.

Business lady clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly. “It would really be more appropriate if you did that kind of thing in the bathroom.”

I still hadn’t said anything. I knew that this was the moment to say that I wasn’t even actually breastfeeding but two things popped into my head.

If I WERE breastfeeding, this woman was way out of line for asking me to leave.

THE MOMS NOTICED ME. THEY NOTICED ME AND MIGHT WANT TO BE MY FRIENDS.

I’m not sure where the voice came from but the words, “I’m not going anywhere. Breastfeeding is natural,” came out of my mouth before I could stop them. I may have hugged sleeping Aubrey closer to my chest area, also. I also may have said, “It’s my right.”

Business lady whipped around in a huff and stomped away. Of course I immediately thanked the other moms. Maxi Dress (whose name is actually Lola) put her hand on my shoulder and asked me what I was doing tomorrow. I said “Nothing,” and they invited me to their playgroup. The only problem is...it’s a La Lait meeting. For breastfeeding moms. And I’m not breastfeeding.

I said yes.

The good news is that I now have friends. The bad news is that it’s based on a small (HUGE) lie.





Tuesday, February 19, 9 A.M.

I breastfed my first children, Eleanor and Gregory, until they were 4.5 years old. They’re rarely sick and read two grades above their age. Breast milk can cure many common ailments including sore throats, the flu, eczema, burns and even hangnails.”

—Emily Walker, Motherhood Better

What am I going to do? I’m a formula mom in a breastfeeding world. Just my luck that the first serious mom-group prospect I get since the pyramid scheme playdate is based on a huge lie. Maybe once they get to know me they can overlook the whole “I lied about breastfeeding and my baby is really living on the stuff you think is pure evil” thing.

Today was my first La Lait meeting. Operation Pretend to Breastfeed to Make Friends was in full effect. I wore jeans and a button-down shirt because I read on the MilkMums.net message board that they’re the easiest to nurse in. I wasn’t proud of myself, but I knew blending in was going to be important until I worked up the nerve to tell them the truth.

There was a small possibility that I also wore a nursing bra, but only because I had one lying around from before Aubrey was born. I’d given all but one of them to Joy after it was cemented that I wouldn’t be breastfeeding. To be honest, I was still a little raw that she’d had the nerve to ask me for them.

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