"Hell Hath No Fury..."

...like that of a mother whose babies have been awoken by a truck backing up, a dog barking, or any other general nuisance noise during nap time. Seriously, don't these people know that children nap from noon to 4? Even little babies, who nap 17 times a day, have one major afternoon nap. I find myself feeling bad for all the times I was loud in the afternoon before I had kids and knew that other moms were probably seething over their baby waking up.

It's so funny how a life change can suddenly put you in this whole new demographic. I once loved Cheetos; now I lie to my daughter and tell her that they are "Grandma's carrots" when she sees my mom eating them. Once I went out for drinks at 10:00 pm; now I am annoyed when I can't get to bed by 9:00. Once I thought that afternoons were for loud pool parties; now I scowl at the neighborhood kids who are yelling at 2:00, wakikng up my kids.

Even my language has changed: what once was "going to sleep" is now "going down." "Nap-time" is now "Nigh-nigh time" (what, is the "t" too much energy? Actually, yes, it is).

Here are some things that have become acceptable in our house since children: abstinence as a realistic form of birth control, cheerios as a meal, taking a shower becoming an act of pampering, and paying bills with my husband is "time together."

But there is also now time for a walk every morning, a bigger reason to be environmentally sustainable, and rolling down grassy hills for fun.

I'd say life is pretty good.

Christ-centered moments at IHOP

Is this "drive-by insult" week, or something?

So my friend Michelle and I are at IHOP this morning with three babies: Grace, Natalie, and Connor, who is Grace's age--almost 2. Both Grace and Connor are climbing around the booth and occasionally fighting over the crayons. Both Michelle and I are addressing them when they get too loud, asking them to "use your words" and finding a new way to distract them.

IHOP seemed a bit busier than usual, and our food took a little longer than normal, which added to the frustration on the part of the kids. Connor, in particular, seemed to be having a rough go of it, getting more and more annoyed. We knew it would all be fine once the pancakes arrived.

I took my 2 kids to the bathroom, and apparently while I was gone, a man from the other end of the restaurant used the opportunity to approach Michelle and tell her that he taught his kids how to behave in a restaurant and that she should do the same with her son. Michelle reportedly told him off and he went back to his seat.

Of course, she was in shock that he would imply that she wasn't teaching her child--hadn't he been watching her all along? Plus, Connor and Grace aren't even 2 years old! It's not like we were at a fine restaurant or something--it was IHOP, for crying out loud.

So the first surprise is that after processing for a moment longer, Michelle calmly gets up, goes over to the man, and tells him that she will pray for him. His response is the second surprise: "I'd appreciate it because my family needs the prayer."

Michelle, my friend who describes herself as "more 'fuck you' than diplomatic," showed me how God can inspire us in the most contentious of moments. Thank you, Michelle. Thank you, God.

An Open Letter to the Woman Who Approached Me on Sunday at Tulley's Coffee in Irvine

Your strategy, (if that's what that was) aside, could you explain to me what was so offensive about my 3 month old baby being hungry and me nursing her at a coffee shop? Were you offended because you could see my breast? Well, you couldn't see it. Even when you peered over my shoulder when you came in the coffee shop (I assume to confirm that I really was doing THAT), you couldn't see any more of my breast that you could a woman who was wearing a strapless dress or a spaghetti strap top. In fact, I was more covered than a woman wearing one of those, since my shoulders were covered. My baby's head, which is much larger than my breast (not that you'd know, since you COULDN'T SEE MY BREAST) was totally covering my breast. So no, you couldn't see my breast.

Is it that nursing, itself, is indecent to you? That nourishing a baby with God and nature's perfect "formula" is wrong in and of itself? That can't be it; after all, nursing is the purpose of breasts.

Is it that nursing might be provocative because it draws others' attention to thinking about my breasts? Well, then, even if I were to "get some decency and at least cover myself up or something," as you so ignorantly implored me to do, men in the coffee shop would still know what I was doing, and if that made them think about breasts in general, so be it. Think of all the provocative dressers there are out there, enhancing their bodies with a push up bra showing more cleavage than you could ever see from a nursing mom. Think about the short skirts that draw the eye up a woman's leg. Would you angrily tell those women that they are being indecent because their dress may encourage some men to think about sexual things?

Like my friend Rebecca said, we really do live in a bipolar society. It's okay for scantily clad women to be on every bus stop billboard. We see more cleavage by flipping through a magazine than at any breast-feeding support group! But heaven forbid a woman actually discreetly uses her breast for nourishing her baby, because then, suddenly, breasts are indecent.

Perhaps your issue is that, as my husband proposes, you are insecure and are worried that your husband might have tried to sneak a peak at my breast since I was nursing in public. Well, if your husband might do that, then he probably sneaks way more peaks at other women wearing less than I was wearing at the time. And you shouldn't be so insecure, if that's what it was, since you are a beautiful 30-something woman with a very friendly smile and a nice, athletic body (I could see a lot of your body since you were wearing very short shorts...hmm...). In fact, you seemed so warm when you came up to me that it took me several seconds to stop smiling as it dawned on my that you were actually insulting me.

So I implore you, don't be offended by the chance of seeing my breast when it was completely covered. Don't be concerned that nursing is indecent when it is how God designed my body to feed my baby. And don't be worried about your husband thinking of boobies when he saw me nursing; he likely didn't think of it sexually anyway, and sees more of other women's cleavage anyway.

And I also would like to suggest an alternative strategy. If your goal was to get me to stop nursing in public or to wear a parachute over my body while doing it, next time try this. Approach me and ask how old my adorable baby is. Ooh and ah as I tell you a little bit about her. Then say, almost apologetically, "You may not be aware of this, but sometimes other people feel uncomfortable when they see women nursing in public. I don't mean to embarrass you by bringing it up, but I feel I should tell you that I was uncomfortable when I came in and saw that you were nursing. You obviously seem to be a good mom and I know you are just trying to feed your little (don't forget 'adorable') baby, but I can't leave without at least making you aware that others are uncomfortable." Then I might have been able to have a conversation with you about it, instead of you running out after assaulting me with your insult (I have no decency? Do you even know me?) leaving me no time to even apologize or defend myself.

I disagree with your intent (to get me to nurse in private only) but I disagree more with your strategy, since it cut off all possible dialogue between us and ruined the potential for either of us to change our behaviors to be less offensive to the other person. Perhaps as you are navigating through the internet one day, searching for other people who hate breastfeeding in public as much as you do, some key word you type in will deliver you to my blog, where you will recognize yourself in this letter. If that happens, please email me so that we can have the dialogue we should have had on Sunday morning--a conversation where actual change might result, as opposed to more bitter resolve and hurt feelings.

Sincerely, Sarah Roby

Meet Grace, my best friend.

For the first month that Natalie has been on the outside of my body, Grace tried to "cut" in the nursing line at our house. She could have been reading a book, eating cereal, running in circles around the lamp post, etc., but when Natalie cried, needing to be fed, Grace would holler, "MAMA!! Nurse! Gracie nurse!!" Now, I am still nursing Grace, so it wasn't a problem that she wanted to nurse. The problem was that she was intentionally interfering with my nurturing of Natalie, in an effort to lay her claim to me, I suppose.

Things improved as we lay down the ground rules for nursing in Casa Roby.
1. Babies nurse whenever, wherever. Toddlers nurse once in the morning, once after nap, and maybe once at night if needed, but never right before bed (we can't have her still relying on me to get to sleep or we'd be back to square one).
2. Baby crying always trumps a toddler's desire to nurse, but a latched-on toddler pretty much gets to finish if baby cries mid-session. This happens so rarely, that I allow it.
3. Mommy will nurse two at a time when at home (why would we be given two boobs otherwise?!) but will NOT nurse a wiggly worm. Nursing toddlers must have a calm body at all times around baby.
4. Toddler must make eye-contact and say "thank you" after nursing. Babies need only gurgle and smile.
5. Mommy tries to avoid nursing the toddler outside of the home (except for La Leche Meetings!); I don't lie about it, but neither do I want to advertise that I nurse an almost-2-year-old.

Fast forward to this morning. I hear Grace call for me at 6:20 am and I stumble into her room, giving her a good morning hug.

"Nurse, Mommy." She demands.

"Can you say, 'Good morning, Mommy?'"

"Good morning Mommy Nurse."

"Nurse please." I suggest.

"Nurse please." She implores.

I take her out of her crib, sit down on her big-girl bed, and she begins to nurse. After about one minute, we both hear a sudden cry from my bedroom, where Natalie and Daddy are. I wait a moment to hear if there is a problem. Natalie cries again. I deduce that she has awoken and needs to nurse. See the second part of rule #2: A latched-on toddler gets to finish before Mommy responds to baby. I take a deep breath, prepared to wince while listening to Natalie's escalating cries as Grace takes her own sweet time enjoying mommy-time when it is in demand by the upstart new sibling.

Grace, full of surprises, jumps off my lap (now milk is squirting everywhere) and shouts,

"Mommy! Nurse Na-lly! Nurse Na-lly!"

I find myself fleeing Grace's room, being pulled down the hallway by Grace. I try to stop the flow of milk with my hand as we race into my room where poor Scott is holding a very hungry Natalie. (On a side note, it is totally unfair that I have two functioning lactating breasts while Scott has none!) Grace continues her look of panic until I actually sit down, take the to baby to my breast, and calm her cries. Satisfied with Natalie's contentment, Grace crawls onto the bed, comes over to my other breast, looks up at me, and asks, "Gracie nurse, too?" Not even two years old, she has learned that the "haves" should share with the "have-nots."

As I pull her head to latch-on, I think to myself that I have the best best-friend in the whole world.