Word of the week: "Breastfeeding"

I had my boss in tears the other day over some of my breastfeeding stories.

No, I don't have a child, and never had the "breastfeeding" experiences.

But my mother breastfed both my brother and sister. I'm old enough to remember helping her sterilize the bottles on the stovetop. I also watched her do the breast pump thing, so that her babies would have milk when they were at the sitter and she was at work. It always amazed me that whatever Ma ate, that was what the milk would look like. So if she got down on some collard greens the night before, then the breast milk would have a green tinge to it.

Funny- she ate a bunch of prunes one day, and the milk was a bit dark, almost like someone had spooned a little Nestle Quick over in it.

And let's just say my sister Kentucky had a bit of diarrhea over the next couple of days!

Mama frowning up. "Oh Lord, what's wrong with the baby? She sure is running off today."
**Lee standing to the side next to Mama, frowning up as Mama changed the diaper for the umpteenth time.**
Mama face twists in shock. "Oh no Lee, I ate those prunes yesterday!"

LOL!! At least Kentucky's little system was squeaky clean!!

But there are two interesting incidents I will never forget...

Every Sunday morning, my Mama would cook a huge breakfast: grits, eggs, sausage, pancakes, bacon, biscuits, and the like. I just LOVED Sunday morning breakfasts, especially after fooling with cereal most of the week.

Anyway, one morning the biscuits were particularly good. I myself preferred toast with breakfast, but I remember my stepfather saying "Lisa, these biscuits know they good!"

So I tried one.

As a matter of fact, I think I had two.

I remember later that day, running up on my Mama...

"Mommy, those were some good biscuits!"
"Glad ya'll liked them," she said. "I didn't have any milk, and I wasn't gonna make biscuits. "
"I'm glad you did," I said.
"Yeah, I used breast milk for the biscuits."

**silence**

I don't even remember what I said. I just stared at her. I wasn't even in the kitchen when she made breakfast that morning. I only remember her rolling out the biscuit dough and cutting them with the biscuit cutter, but I didn't see her mix up that ish.

I stood there staring at her, hoping she would laugh, say she was joking, something... but she didn't. She went back to watching television. My stepfather and I just looked at each other...

It was a LONG time before I ate any of my Mama's biscuits again. A very long time.

Believe that.

And let's just say we made sure that there was store bought milk in the house from then on.

I must've thought about that for the next 20 years or so everytime I ate one of her biscuits.

Another time... There was a time when I thought we had a leaky roof. I would be sitting on the floor, playing with my poodle chihuahua mixed dog, and I would feel liquid hit my ear, to the point where I would swipe at my ear with my hand. I remember staring up at the ceiling. There were no wet marks on the ceiling. I also noticed that the dog would slowly creep out of the room during this time. I think this went on for weeks. I was 11 or 12 years old at the time.

Then one day, I was sitting on the floor of my Mama's bedroom, playing with the dog, and happen to look over at my Mama.

Oldgirl was squirting breastmilk across the room at me FROM HER BREAST. She caught me straight in the face that time.

There was no leak in the ceiling. She was messing with me. She fell out laughing when I feverishly wiped at my face with my hands.

Now, I was no more than six feet from her...

Who woulda known that breast milk could be squirted that far away...

Man... that right there is running right up against abuse!

But like I said: "Breastfeeding" is the word of the week.

And it really doesn't have anything to do with this post.


Stay tuned for part II, tomorrow.