With my husband away every other week, sometimes just keeping myself a bit clean is a mission in itself.
I’ve resorted to having baths so I can bring Frank into the bathroom with me and he can look up at me from his little rocker seat.
None of this is exactly ideal, and when I get out of the bath, drying myself within the confines of our already tiny bathroom becomes another challenge altogether.
But even this drawn out ritual cannot take place if small Frankenstein decides he’s not in the mood.
So yesterday, when he finally fell asleep I jumped at the opportunity to try my chances with the tepid bath I had run over an hour previously.
Gently I placed him in his rocker, quietly undressed and hung my dressing gown inches from his face – bless him he didn’t even flinch.
Buck nekked, I had a leg in the air ready to get in the bath and out of nowhere screaming. Screaming screaming screaming which caused both boobs to spray torrents all over the show.
I grabbed a towel, stemmed the milk shower and admitted defeat.
This morning, he has just fallen asleep. So as soon as I’m done writing this, we’re off for round two. Fingers crossed and nips knotted.
Tags: basic hygiene, fountain boobs, my boobs hate me, things they don't tell you at antenatal class
October 30, 2009 at 10:04 am |
I loved breast feeding, but I don’t miss those milk fountain moments. Hope you managed to get a good bath in the end!
October 30, 2009 at 12:11 pm |
I did thanks! And without covering the place in breast milk. I adore breast feeding too, but the fountain boob thing is my least favourite thing. I have a total phobia of squirting a complete stranger in the eye when out in public. Cringe.
November 18, 2009 at 2:24 pm |
Try changing the order
I used to breast-feed my son IN the bath til he slept then plonk him in his towel lined car seat, wrap him up, top the bath up with steaming hot water and sink….
November 18, 2009 at 5:29 pm |
Oh my god I LOVE that idea. Genius. Thanks