IHOP Mortification

An Introduction:

I go by "Mamma!!!" to two fantastic and exciting little boys. My oldest just turned 2 (which he happily shows you with both of his pointer fingers and "tttwwwwooooo" in his screechy toddler voice) and our newest addition, is working on 4 months. As many stories and fun circulating emails claim, things tend to loosen up a bit with your second child. For the most part, I have found this to be a true theory. Case in question here-- public breastfeeding. While I did put in a valiant effort with baby one, we didn't have many opportunities to even attempt this since I was working full time away from home 6 weeks after his arrival. Baby two however, is attached to me every minute of the day it seems, and I no longer work full time out of the house. As a family, or just as husband and wife occasionally, we do enjoy getting out of the house and the public breastfeeding issue frequently arrises. Up until the point of this story, I had spent an entire day at a car dealership when baby was only 2 weeks old and managed two successful feedings in a deserted waiting room. How liberating! I quickly became comfortable feeding baby in front of our closest friends, since we see them a few times a week anyways, and had even taken my chances in a department store restroom's sitting area. Which smelled awful, was carpeted, therefore rather dirty and had lots of constant spectators. It is moments like these in which a person may question their intentions, however- they also prevail feeling victorious and down right proud. There's your background on me. Now fast forward to IHOP Humiliation.

My husband and I are invited to an evening of bowling at our local alley for a good friend's birthday. Our 2 year old is secured with a babysitter, and our precious little bundle comes along for the fun. I myself have just returned from a bridal shower and was dressed nicely for the occasion in a halter top (that is not stretchy by the way) and skirt. A good crowd of our friends attend the event, including a pregnant wife. She mentions pancakes and we both jump for joy at the thought of all you can eat pancakes for dinner. We manage to race through the bowling and get a party of 6 together to hit up the IHOP down the road. I can hardly wait to get my plate of pancakes! And perfectly in line with his normal inconvenient timing, baby can't wait for his dinner either. We are seated in a large booth by a very friendly woman who is eager to please everyone at the table- especially this screaming creature in a carseat. The restraunt at this time, has a few other tables, but it's 10pm so there isn't too much going on here. Yet.

I'm desperately trying to appease the baby with an insulting binky and sweet talk while we look over the menus and start to order. Waitress exclaims repeatedly: "Mamma, that baby is huuuungry, he wants his food Mamma!" Did I mention the guys had been drinking during the bowling festivities? Because my slightly drunken husband is about to irritate me here. He then insists that I go out to the deserted parking lot and sit in the backseat (we don't even have tinted windows and we're in a part of town often referred to as... slightly ghetto?) to feed the child, while everyone enjoys their pancakes in peace. OR I can go into the bathroom, sit on a disgusting toilet and let him eat his heart out there. Men. Meanwhile baby is protesting the binky like it is poison plastic, sweat pouring from every possible gland in his body and I'm already slightly embarrassed noticing the other tables all staring at this altercation. Giving up the dream of pancakes, I tell him to let me out of the booth and prepare to take the show out to the car.

Very Friendly Waitress couldn't hold back any longer and put her power to please out on the table. "What Mamma, you nursing him? I got 5 churun (I have no idea how to spell this word but I'm trying lol) myself, what are you just not comfortable? Listen- ya'll all friends aint ya? Here Dad, hold the blanket up for her like this (lots of demonstrations going on here) so she can pull her shirt off and let that boy eat!" Our table of friends are either in complete shock, hysterically laughing or looking anywhere BUT my general direction. I am convinced at this time that I am sooo red faced, I could set my husband on fire- maybe the whole restraunt!

Back to that non stretchy halter top. It must be nearly removed completely to allow nursing to proceed. I hope the other restraunt guests didn't mind at all and my sincere apologies if they did!The Waitress proceeds to assist my husband in making this thing happen and baby frantically attaches himself to me and joyfully slurps (among other distracting sounds) his way to happiness. To avoid my friend, her husband and another couple staring at my breasts during their pancake feasting, I put up a menu in front of me- I can not be seen now (I was on the verge of tears by now so this was very welcome). Just as I sit back and take a deep breath of relaxation, that drunken husband of mine snaps the menu up and hands it to the Waitress. HELLOOO BOOBIES!!!!!! IHOP, I'd like you to meet my Milk Jugs, Milk Jugs, this is IHOP. And have you met Angela across the table? She's just hilarious!

After resetting up my menu of protection I do my best to make light of the situation by enjoying my pancakes. The others do their best to make me feel less exposed, by discussing their bowel movements. Maybe that was the beer talking, who knows. I do not partake in conversations about poop and I no longer enjoy pancakes. Or IHOP!

The lesson you should be taking from this? Appeasing a sweet little bundle of screaming, unconsolable joy with your boobies in public can be all in a day's work here at Motherhood! And always dress for the nursing occasion, tint your windows, don't let your husband drink when he's bowling and most importantly- thank your very friendly waitress next time you eat out. She's not only handling your food, she's fighting for the rights of starving breastfed babies in our country!