It seems my ramblings about all things boobies in previous episodes have proven very popular. Why the word “boob” would prove popular in a search engine is beyond me *winks*.
Yesterday evening when getting Bambina ready for bed, she wasn’t her normal self. She was a bit fussy, a bit agitated and didn’t seem too interested in nestling under the udder for a bit of home-made milk. I waited a while and reintroduced her to her favourite friend, Nora Nipple. Nope, didn’t work. Nora was banished. I was horrified, almost panic-stricken. Tearful.
No, no,nooooo, it can’t end like this! Is this the end? I have heard and read about that dreaded time that most mothers experience when the baby simply decides not to take milk from the breast. It’s the first sign of them ‘growing up’….‘Boob milk? Noo, I’m way too cool for that!”
Just before I broke into a lather of sweat that she would soon be, like, I don’t know, drinking cheap wine on street corners or something, she crawled over the duvet, sat on my knee and delved into my top. Yay! We’re back on, it’s not over, my baby still needs me! I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Bambina, it seems, is not only too cool for breast milk but she has also developed an attitude! She took Nora Nipple in her mouth, placed her gently between her two tiny front teeth and whilst maintaining eye contact with me, pursed her lips and bit, HARD!
For the love of God….OOWWWWWW! As I tried not to show emotion for the fear of her doing it again, the tears welled up. It stung like there’s no tomorrow! You know in movies when you see a frantic teenager running into A&E nursing a blood sodden towel-wrapped hand having hacked it off with a rusty chainsaw (don’t know why I’m assuming its a male?) and in his other hand he has a bag, full of ice, and a thumb that needs sewing back on? Well, that was me, not literally, but I had visions of it.
It lasted all of twenty seconds but in that time, whilst the tears were welling, I had visions of myself walking into A&E. Walking? No, I’d definitely need a wheelchair, missing a nipple is far too serious an injury to walk! Yes, wheelchairing into A&E, holding my injured boob with one hand whilst in the other there is a bag of frozen peas…and a chewed nipple.
“Oh-young-enough-to-be-my-son Doctor, please can you reattach this, my tiny daughter decided she didn’t need it anymore but forgot to consult whether “I” do?!!
So now we’ve come full circle. Bambina started off like Bella from Twilight, sucking blood from cracks in my nipples that she had unknowingly created, and now… well now, she’s turned into Chucky with her big doll eyes looking up at me, looking up at Nora Nipple… “Don’t make a move, I’m coming to get youuuuuu…”
Once those twenty seconds of electrifying shock were over, I composed myself and looking her straight in the eye I said, “you really mustn’t do that darling, we don’t want Nora to be homeless now, do we? There’s a good girl, leave her where she is and keep your flipping two front teeth to yourself!!”.
**As much I’d love to include a nice little snapshot of the event with this post, I’m not too sure that pictures of either my cracked and broken nipples or Bambina sucking blood would go down too well with the audience – imagination required! x