Ah, well, I see that the fight about public breastfeeding is raging again - mostly in Canada, this time, it seems. You know, one of these days someone has got to take these nice lactating ladies aside and show them how to do it.
The problem with breastfeeding in public is not WHAT you're doing - it's how you're doing it. And believe me, in the ever-gentrifying but still pretty crunchy granola West Village, I get a great view of this. (One day I saw a lady sitting in our local playground, and her son, who must have been three years old, ran out of the sandbox and up to Mom, unbuttoned her shirt, and had a snack. She continued her conversation without turning a hair. If you can unbutton a shirt, you can damn well handle a sippy cup, for God's sake.)
Ladies, I believe the reason that people are objecting is that you're all so proud of the fact that your bosom can now feed a child that you feel the whole world ought to be just as proud as you are. I quite understand this - I certainly breastfed Sarah. It's an excellent achievement, and one worthy of praise.
However, this does not necessarily mean that others share your delight, and when they are standing, say, in the checkout line at the grocery store, they may be somewhat alarmed when you casually open your shirt and suddenly haul out a breast at them.
I have a suggestion - receiving blankets. You know, those little scraps of flannel you get tons of at baby showers and usually use to cover your shoulder when you're burping the kid. All you have to do is throw one over your shoulder and the baby, unhook your nursing bra, and you're good to go, without offending anyone - and, as I found, often without anyone knowing what you're up to (except for the sudden cessation of the noise of a hungry kid). Sarah was fed in some extremely public places, and no one ever turned a hair.
Personally, I feel that what these ladies who crow so loudly about their right to breastfeed in public are doing is sheer exhibitionism. Receiving blankets, please - and just a little decorum.
Other than that, my temp agency called me for a job. I'm thrilled to the very core of my being. I go to this job for two hours of training this coming Friday (for which I'll be paid), and then I work from the 25th through the 29th. I should take home about $50 bucks for this, since the rate is $15.00 an hour, and of course they'll do all the deductions...sheesh. However, Law and Order is shooting again, and I'd have to be braindead not to get an extra role on that - in common with every single other actor in New York.
Meanwhile, I'm still rationing cigarettes and drinking ice water. Luckily, my wonderful child lent me a hundred bucks so I can get the inhaler I desperately need, so things are looking up, in a way. And two old pals from Chicago will be in town on Monday and are taking me to dinner. So there.
I hate being broke.