My take on being a mother from a women who asked her pediatrician for a hysterectomy part 2

Welcome back! For those of you new to this stream of consciousness, please refer to (http://ijdka.blogspot.com/2012/08/my-take-on-being-mother-from-woman-who.html?m=1) for part 1 of my take on motherhood.

Sorry it took so long for me to post this. Life happens right? :-(

For those of you returning, I started out telling you about my endeavor into working with the younger young-ins because I have what I think a mildly entertaining story about dealing with the babes.

As you know babies are a dichotomy when it comes to caring for them, while most of the time it's just sitting there, reading books about bing eating caterpillars, and just making funny faces at them while you mimic barn yard animal noises at them. Sometimes however they are crying, screaming, poop factories that want to eat, sleep, and be little WMD to your sense of smell. The things that come out of infants, it's a wonder that the human race has survived, a lot is to be said for the biological imperative to protect and maintain ones young. Any other explanation just doesn't make sense why we continued to not leave our babies as saber tooth tiger bait whilst roughing the prehistoric terrain of Pangaea. (That’s probably historically inaccurate, but trust me, you don't mind)

There's studies that look at why babies are designed to look the way they do, with the big heads exaggerated eyes, tiny delicate noses and lips in comparison, it's supposedly in our DNA to find them adorable. That I believe is the only reason we as a species have survived!

So mentioned that mostly all babies really do is eat, sleep and shit between crying, and making random noises. And we've already discussed the pooping. My real story today is one that I find mildly entertaining, mostly because a similar situation happen on friends and every time I see the episode I laugh extra hard because I can relate.

When I was about 17 years old, while working in the baby room I had to heat up bottles to feed the tots. And to the best of my knowledge, the best way to test if a bottle is too hot, too cold or just right to spill a few drops on the inside of your arm. This was a regular practice for me since I had been working there for about 5 hours a day 5 days a week.

About three weeks into my summer while prepping a bottle, another teacher watched my ritual: heat, shake, test, heat more, and repeat. It was on the third bottle that feeding that she yelled "wait!" as I licked the test sample of my forearm.

"What?!" I exclaimed back at her. Startled and confused.

The look of terror on her face was undeniable. Whatever thoughts were going through her head drained the color out of her like bleach to a pair of blue jeans.

"Who’s bottle is that?" she asked as if she already knew the answer.

"Um, Williams?" I replied questioningly. I knew who's bottle it was, but the whole situation had thrown me for a loop.

"William's... Gross."

"What is the matter with you?"

Her face had turned from terror to something that resembled that of adolescent boys' the first time they saw a sex-ed video, disgust and overwhelmed fascination.

"William doesn't eat formula."

"What? He's too little for real food."

"Yea I know, but that's not formula."

"What is it then?"

"His mother pumps."

"This is... Boobie juice?!"

"That it is!" she began to laugh uncontrollably. Her eyes filled with tears while the realization hit her that I had no idea. "You’ve been licking that right along huh?"

"Yea" I said in a deflated voice, more embarrassed by my ignorance than my actions. But I decided to own it. Who cares that I was a moron and had no idea that I had consumed at least a 1/8 of a cup of boobie juice over the last couple of weeks. And I licked up the drops on my arm.

"Oh god!! Dude that's just gross!" She had a look of disgust/terror/fascination/confusion all in one.

I knew I’d get that reaction. Honestly it was the last time I did it, but it was really funny to see her face when I did.

I feel however that it is the responsibility of any mother who has a child in daycare to label their bottle if it is not formula. Big giant letter should be plastered on the side that read, "This milk is not from a cow or a canister!" as a common courtesy to all who have to interact with your child.