Ever breastfed in a cemetery?
Well, on a list of things to do before you die, I can tick that one off.
I went for a stroll yesterday with baba. Seeing as I'm not allowed drive for what feels like forever, I needed to leave the house in some capacity otherwise I was likely to go completely mental. Or, more correctly, even more mental than I already am. That's more mental than any one house can contain.
So, though it was bloody freezing, the winter sun was bright. It was quite refreshing going out, being all gloved up and baba wrapped to within an inch of her life.
I decided to walk down to the graveyard - not my usual choice for recreational outings - but it would have been my lovely, and sorely missed friend, Joan's 70th birthday yesterday. She's been gone a year, and she is missed just as much - more even - than when we lost her in November 09. So, I thought I'd pop down and wish her happy birthday.
Of course, once I got down there baba had a hissy fit meltdown - she wanted to be fed. I could tell by the level of her giving out that she wouldn't last the trip home. There was nothing for it but to feed her there.
The only bench I could find was under some trees. The trees, not too surprisingly were populated by birds. Pooping birds. So, I sat there, dodging the excreting blue tits (and, said Mr Oub when I got home, considering the temperature, probably exposing some blue tits - excuse the vulgarity) and fed the baby.
I couldn't decide if this was some very symbolic thing. Nursing a newborn while reading the inscriptions of those departed. A beautiful reflection on the circle of life (cue Elton John wafting through the trees)
Or whether it just highlighted how pointless everything really is.
(Sleep deprivation and cold boobs does not a cheery disposition make.)
But, overall, I think Joan would have been amused at me, dodging poo, getting my baps out and the general ridiculous of it all. And the thought of her laugh and smile was point enough.
*anyone get the title or was I trying too hard?
8 comments:
totally didn't get the title, it must be extremely intelligent. Sounds like a beautiful moment and yes, Joan would have had a good laugh at it.
No need to excuse the vulgarity ... I would have been disappointed had the joke not been made.
No clue on the title.
She would have smiled for sure, blue tits and all! Well done young brave Mommy!!
Great tale. It's always good for the dead to have some company. I love graveyards.
x
Thanks Jinksy - I did feel all brave and good :)
DA - Yes, it had to be said. Such true wit should not go unpublished.
Say the title out loud, might help. But be warned - its uber lame.
Thanks Socks :) I think Joan is laughing wherever she is :)
Ah Rachel, yes, graveyards can be fascinating. This one isn't the most asthetically interesting, but the lives documented there, always interesting.
Re the title: is it from The Lion King?
Here's to Joan, breastfeeding, babies and bird poo. What more, in truth, does a woman want? (Don't answer that.)
Hakuna Matata!
No worries, but is there a prize?
Hmm...I'm afraid the glory and smugness of being the cleverest is the only prize.
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