FLASHBACK FRIDAY! (Chester the Molester)
Every Friday, I will post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!
And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memories, word for word, photogenically, I say:
What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!
BTW, if you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.
My 1 year old is a groper. Roper the Groper. Chester the Molester.
She loves my boobs.
I have 2 other kids, mind you, and they also breastfed until about one and a half years. But the Baby (her name, for the sake of this public arena) is already 22 months, and the other 2 never came CLOSE to the kind of nipple and breast obsession she has.
Actually, it’s wrong to call it an obsession. More like, “possession.” Because yes, Baby loves my boobs, but more than that – she owns them. They are hers. She’s not even threatened when Husband moves in once in a while to show her she’s not the only one who is allowed to touch Mommy’s boobs. She knows what a sucker my husband is for her – she’s got him wrapped around her little pinky finger; he’d never step over the line to challenge her for total ownership. He’s happy to share that toy.
It’s particularly challenging when I breastfeed her each morning right when she wakes up, usually around 6am. (7 days a week, for 6 years, by the way. All my kids are Bright and Early Morning Wake Up Kids. Until motherhood, you couldn’t roll me out of bed until 8, and that was only on a workday.) Anyway, each AM, I take her quickly from the room she shares with her 2 older sibs, trying to keep them asleep as long as possible (Almost never works. My husband leaves each day around 6:30am so lucky thing Dora, that little rascally Explorer, is such an excellent babysitter.)
Anyhoo, so I’ll be on my side in bed, back shoved against a pillow so I won’t roll over, a pillow shoved behind her back so she won’t roll out of bed, and one arm of mine gets pinned beneath me. She’ll start to breastfeed, eyes deceptively closed. I will close my eyes, with the ever-fruitless hope that this time she’ll leave me alone and let me go back to sleep for another precious 15 minutes or so.
Then the groping begins.
As she sucks, she moves her little hand to my other breast, under my shirt. Aw, how cute… SHIT! She’s grabbed my nipple! She’s pinching it! Ack!
I quickly swipe her hand away with my one free hand, then cover my nipple protectively. Her hand slides over and bats at my hand a few times, those tiny little finger muscles surprisingly deft and strong. But I am stronger, and I maintain position.
Until… her hand slides down my stomach and reaches my bellybutton, which is always uncovered because of the necessity of lifting my shirt to offer her the one boob to drink from. Once landed, her fingers immediately start to dig and diddle my belly button.
I hate that feeling. I move my free hand down quickly to bat her hand away. She moves hers up and grabs my nipple. I swipe it away only to have left my belly button wide open. Shit! She’s launched the offensive, once again, successfully. Darn those nimble fingers, blast those silky smooth palms that belie their evil agenda!
When I carry her around during the day, especially when I pick her up after not having held her for a while, Baby immediately shoves her hand down the front of my shirt and grabs my nipple. I take her hand out, tell her I don’t like it. She laughs and shoves it back down.
I think about the fact that – thanks to her breastfeeding, & the milk I produce for her – my tiny boobs are still somewhat inflated. Does that give her the right of ownership? I started out young adulthood with small, perky boobs. Now, after 3 breastfeeding kids? Take out the “perky” and underline “small”. You get the idea.
Marla Maples once told me that her boobs were not even half the magnificent breasts they once were thanks to the three years she breastfed her daughter Tiffany. (Don’t judge – Tiffany is such an amazing teenager we should probably all start a campaign to have every kid breastfed for 3 years. Or at least to have Marla as a mom and The Donald as a dad.) I was impressed that Marla never got them “done” like many of my beautiful friends have, after having a few kids. PS, I know a few mommies who got tummy tucks… Now that sounds like a good idea to me. If only it didn’t involve surgery, pain, cutting into my skin, blood, painful recovery, etc…
I’m such a wuss.
So, Chester, I mean Baby, you know, my little Molester… I guess I’ll just have to deal with her roving hands and diddling, pinching fingers. With the nail marks. And the heebie jeebies.
At least SHE thinks my boobs are beautiful. Maybe that’s why I put up with it.
Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)
PS – UPDATE: Esther hasn’t nursed for 6 months as I post this for Flashback Friday (yeah, I’ve dropped the anonymity, too, since my earlier posts) but girlfriend still stages the occasional sneak attack, just to keep me on my toes.