In which my bust goes bust

I could be returning from a nice lunch at Olive Garden with a group of cool moms from the Baby And Me class that Flybaby and I go to every Wednesday morning (naptime permitting). But instead, here I sit at my computer with a bowl of couscous and chickpeas while Fly sleeps.

Let me back up a bit. Baby And Me gives me Flybaby the chance to get used to being around other people. We sing songs and learn baby sign language and talk about our babies' development, sharing tips and ideas. Fly also gets to play with toys he doesn't have at home, like the ball pit:



It's fun, and yet it's a little bit like high school*. I feel like I have to make myself and Flybaby look presentable. And there's a group of "cool moms." They're not stuck on themselves. They are friendly with everyone, so they aren't exclusive. But you can just tell there's a trace of a little clique there.

So when the cool moms asked if I'd like to go to lunch after the class, I was like, heck yeah! Except, the cool moms asked me this as I was leaving, early, with a very unhappy Fly wriggling in my arms.

No problem. I'd whisk home, nurse him and zip right on over to Olive Garden, getting there about the same time the other moms probably would.

Except Fly wanted to nurse an exceptionally long time. And he eventually fell asleep. And it was noon already. I didn't know whether to go to the restaurant (and be late) with my sleeping baby, or just let him sleep peacefully at home, and miss out.

This isn't the first time I feel I've missed out on something because Flybaby needed to nurse. I have shared too many times to point to about how clumsy I am at nursing, and how I almost quit, many times, because I was so bad at it. Now, breastfeeding is great, but I still feel awkward, especially in public. Not because I'm afraid of people's stares, but because I just can't get myself and Flybaby comfortable without at least a couple of pillows for support. Fly is a big baby, and yet too young/small to support himself. (He also gets distracted easily while nursing, so it might not even be possible to feed him at a table surrounded by other women and babies!)

And so, I am the dweeb of dweebs, the geek of geeks, the nimrod of nimrods. (Sorry, Oh, the Joys, but I think I just might be more of a dork than you.) I cannot be a cool mom. Which means Flybaby will likely not be a cool kid.

*Yes. That means completely unlike high school, my boobs are my downfall.

This post brought to you from my amygdala. I had a brilliant post to write, but my cerebrum ate it....