Motherhood full throttle

I spent last Friday evening making friends with the toilet. The one good thing about this all nighter was that the toilet eventually got a complete bleach clean. That evening, the toilet witnessed excretions from all openings and no my friends, there was nothing romantic about this scene.

Fortunately, I recovered from this bug within a day but my stomach is still experiencing the aftershocks. I understood from post-bug day 1: If I stuck to oatmeal, I would be a-ok. life would be good. But that’s not me. I am one to tickle the feather of fate. To walk the thin line, between skyscrapers, testing my gastrointestinal capabilities. And at the end of the day, i come to the same conclusion: my capabilities are very very VERY limited.

Today I braved through 5 o’clock traffic to return the breast pump that has become useless in our household. Our round little prince is on strike with the bottle and because of this, I have ceased all pumping activities. I am so out of the habit that I couldn’t imagine even looking for an ounce of patience in our backyard to pick up this habit again. So in order to permanently close this chapter, i packed up the pump box and returned it to the organization that supplies new mothers with these devices.

Ziggy is always happy to Baby Bjorn it. It gives him an adult view on the world he is slowly discovering. He likes to test his voice out in the wind and i encourage these sounds by mimicking him. We carried on with our happy sound exchange as i entered the building and completed the return, donating our down payment and getting my receipt.

It was around this time that my stomach reminded me that it had not fully recovered from last weekends Shananigans. and caused me to race to the toilet. Thoughts of how to handle my baby strapped on me floated through my confused mind as I quickly found the handicapped stall, unstrapped him and sat him on my lap.

I prayed quietly that this would be quick and painless and i could continue with my evening. Ziggy however, had made the decision that he was hungry and must feed AT THIS VERY MOMENT.

But of course it wasn’t going to be quick and painless. Because then it wouldn’t be a story would it? No no. It wouldn’t.

And right then and there, i made the decision any MOTHER would make. IF I was going to sit there, with my pants around my ankles and a crying baby, I might as well feed him. And so it was then and there that I hurriedly unfastened my top and pacified my child so I could relieve myself in peace.

We sat there in silence, as he made sucking sounds against my breast. It was only then that a woman walked in to relieve herself and i could only imagine what she thought was going on in the stall across from her. I sat there helpless. Praying my stomach would behave and that she would quickly exit the facility. The toilet flushed and I let out a short sigh of relief.

Often I get asked how I go to the toilet with my son strapped on me. But now, they don’t know the half of it do they now?

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Germapino with a Jewish Twist. Twist. Collective Thoughts of a Ginrod are the musings of a Texas born,half German, half Filipina girl who who went on a trip to Bangkok and found herself in the Holy Land , as a jew, married to an Englishman, with 3 kids and a pup named Henck.

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