Ummm…. Wow.

If you’ll pardon the pun, breastfeeding sucks.

It hurts (even if you do have a good latch-on, it takes awhile to toughen up), and it’s actually kind of hard. During the depths of my despair in learning how to ever do it properly, I came across a saying that actually helped: Breastfeeding is a natural thing, but that doesn’t make it easy. It’s like childbirth: it’s a completely natural thing, but nobody would ever describe it as easy. I’ll post later about my foray into the world of lactation, complete with in-depth descriptions about nipple shields, and the medical miracle of food-to-spit up ration (whatever amount goes in, at least twelve times that amount will come back up if you don’t burp properly.)

Anyhow, I’m actually going to be going off in a few minutes to my first La Leche League meeting, in hopes of getting a few pointers from other moms on how to correct my mistakes. La Leche is, according to their website an organization dedicated to “helping mothers worldwide to breastfeed through mother-to-mother support, encouragement, information, and education, and to promote a better understanding of breastfeeding as an important element in the healthy development of the baby and mother.”

That’s a beautiful mission statement.

The only problem is THIS:

THIS is one of the photos at the top of the La Leche League information page.

Now, I’m all for breastfeeding. In fact, I know all the facts available for how healthy it is to breastfeed your child, and how the longer you breastfeed, the better off your kid will be. I know I shouldn’t poke fun at anybody, and that it’s wrong to mock….

Still.

Is it just me, or is that a REALLY big kid on that woman’s lap? It looks like he’s going to finish up with his snack and then ask his mom for some help with his pre-algebra homework. I sent an email off to my sister, stating that very same thing, and her response confirmed my suspicions:

“I’m thinking there were some real creative angles used to make sure she looked bigger than the kid. I bet she hands over the car keys when they’re done.”

Transcript of a 911 Call



Okay, so let me say that, first off, this is not the ENTIRE call. I am changing the guy’s name, and I am changing the name of the local bar to “Cheers”. I am also ommitting one or two sentences that might give away the details of this particular accident, such as the series of questions where we established the make/model of his vehicle, and the location of the car accident.

That said… I found this particular call so funny that when it was over I played it back on the recorder and wrote it down word-for-word. Are you ready? Here, let me set the scene for you.

It was about midnight on a Friday night, and we’d already received several phone calls of a particularly bad accident that had occurred on one of our city streets. Officers were already enroute to the scene, which contained a truck that had smashed into the center divider and flipped over. Amazingly, none of the passengers of the truck seemed to be injured, but several of the witnesses expressed concern, because the passengers seemed to be trying to flip the truck back over, probably in order to drive away from the scene. Officers were nearly there when I received this call, from the owner of the vehicle:

Me: Your vehicle flipped over?

John Doe (in very, very slurred, drunken tones):
Yes.

pause, while he speaks in muffled tones to someone nearby. Then…

John: No need for ambulance, just an officer to assess the situation, cuz I was
not driving and that’s it.

Me: Who was driving?

John: Uh… I don’t know the name… (speaking to someone else, in a loud, drunken whisper) What’s your full name, dude?

(Another pause, then back to full volume in his slurred tones)

John: Uh, I don’t know the full name, but, just, uh, just the officer as soon as possible to get out here.

Me: So, you don’t know who was driving your car.

John: No. The sooner the better, let’s put it that way.

Me: Okay, yeah, we’re on our way. So.. you got in the car, and you don’t know
who was driving your car?

John: Not at all.

Me: So you got in the car with a stranger.

(Silence.)

John: Oh. Cops coming, paramedics coming, we’re all good.

Me: No, John, who was driving your car? What was the person’s name?

John: What?

Me: You got in a car and you don’t know who was driving it?

(Silence)

Me, more forcefully: And you don’t know who was driving it?

John: No, not at all.

Me: So, then where did you meet this stranger?

John: At Cheers.

Me: Okie doke. I’ll let you talk with the officers.

John: Thanks, Sweetheart. Bye.

At this point, I figured since he’d confessed on a recorded line that he’d met this COMPLETE stranger at a bar, I should let him go to talk to the officers. Now, this may come as a complete surprise, but I’m afraid I have to let you know that it turned out John was lying, and that he had been driving. Even worse, it appears he was actually under the influence of alcohol when he was driving it (Gasp. Shock. Surprise).

I found this to be one of my more entertaining calls, because this fellow actually expected me to believe that he just sauntered out of a bar, and WOW! There’s a stranger in his truck! A stranger to drive him home! How incredibly convenient! So, there’s John, happily toasted and of course not driving (why, it’s illegal to drink and drive!), and there’s the fortuitous stranger, and there’s the truck…. and then, unfortunately, there was the accident.

What a pity that seatbelts tend to leave bruises if you’re in a serious-enough accident, and that those bruises tend to mark both the driver and the passenger differently. All it took was two light pokes to make John confess— first, one to his perfectly healthy right shoulder, and then a second light poke to his very sore, very tender left shoulder, from where the driver’s shoulder harness had kept him from flying through the windshield. Oh, well. Poor John. Better luck next time!