We Are Proud to Present; "Our REALLY Bad Day" Brought to You By - N.I.P. (Nursing In Public)

Let me just preface this by stating upfront, that yes, I do see the humour in this, now. Yesterday however there was no humour to be seen, just pure humiliation and frustration.

Our day would not have been so bad had it not been for the need to run several errands. I have put off these errands until the last possible minute. It couldn't wait any longer.

So, I make sure Gidget is fed, dry and ready to go and pack a bottle of breast milk, just in case. And I was SURE I put the bottle in the diaper bag.

I get the kiddo and the rest of the crap loaded into the car and get to the end of our street and notice the first of many bad omens.....The township has been out posting signs this morning about the huge storm we just had and how we're expecting another and there has been beach erosion and expected flooding and higher than normal storm surge and to tune to channel so and so for further information and updates. Ok, so noted.

In the time it took me to read that notice, my car becomes possessed and stops being the nice Swedish purrmobile and turns into some jerking, coughing, sputtering demon from hell...and it's like 15F outside! It finally shakes and then dies. I check on Gidget and she's still sound asleep and the car is still warm for the time being. I on the other hand am sitting there in shock. This isn't supposed to happen to MY car! I just had it serviced a week before Gidget arrived and everything was fine.

I'm in tears and then I hear Gidget start to make noise. I call Volvo and they tell me to describe the sound it's making when I try and start it. WTF? So there I sit, making stupid noises all in order to try and describe the sound my car is making whilst trying to turn it on. I got frustrated and I yelled at the guy (which is bad....really bad, all the Volvo service people know me REALLY well and they even gave me a huge basket right before Gidget was born) and told him that his asking me to describe the sound was akin to a doctor asking me to describe the pain - is it a shooting or stabbing pain? Hell, how should I know? I've never been shot or stabbed!

Anyhow I tell Mr. Volvo that I'll have it towed to the dealership and then hang up. Whilst waiting for the towing company to come the car up and starts! Turns out it was nothing major. I hadn't gone anywhere for a few days and water and ice got built up and that's probably what caused it.

Ok, we make it to the grocery store and all seems well with Gidget. I manage to make it through most of my list, easily avoiding the lookie-loos who want to touch and tickle the baby. Then it happens! I heard her tummy rumbling but had no idea the explosion I was in for. She had the bum-blowouts of all blowouts. Thank goodness I had an extra outfit. So after getting her cleaned up and changed she's still fairly quiet and I'm pretty pleased, because it could have been worse. Ha! We're in the middle of the aisle with mayo, mustard and other condiments and she lets out this howl like a scorched cat. I thought for sure something was hurting her. People were looking at me like I was sticking her with a hot fire poker.

I ended up taking her out of her car seat and the moment I pick her up, she starts rooting around like a famine victim which in turn causes the mother of all milk-letdowns. And did I think to tuck a couple of nursing pads into my bra? Nope. Talk about a wet T-shirt contest. And I'm wearing white too. Brilliant Audrey, just brilliant!

And where's the damn bottle I'm SURE I've packed. It's no where to be found. And she's screaming, I'm getting upset and people are starting to circle like vultures. So I decide then and there to toss my pride to the wind and NIP (Nurse in Public)! Not in the condiment aisle mind you, but there's a nice bench at the front of the store I can use. I've got blankets and feel *cough* fairly confident about it. Yeah, right!

Gidget is screaming her bloody head off and I finally make it to the bench, cart full, kid screaming, me soaking wet. I yank the blanket out of the diaper bag and by this point Gidget is trying to suck the milk out of my soaking wet blouse. I finally get my shirt up and bra undone and yank (trying discreetly) my boob out and go to put it in her mouth and it happens.......it was awful. I'll never be able to go back into this grocery store ever again...I'll have to go to an entirely new city to shop...maybe even another county.

Whilst trying to get her latched on I accidentally pinched my nipple/areola too hard and milk squirted.....not just a little bit. A whacking great stream of milk squirted all the way from where I was sitting and managed to land on the cheek of a bag boy/courtesy clerk. He wasn't sure what hit him and was wiping his face and then looked at me, who was sitting there trying to bury my rooting daughter and nekkid boobie under a pink blankie.

Ya know, after this, I may have to leave Maine earlier than I was planning. And at the very least, I'm not leaving the house again...not for a good long time.

Oh and I walk in the house and what is sitting on the kitchen table? Yeah, that bottle of breast milk.