Seriously, we may need to call a HAZMAT team in to peel this thing off of me and cart it off to an incinerator. As we speak, my upper body is cloaked in a piece of clothing waterlogged with no less than three bodily fluids, as well as a splatter-painting of raw chicken juice. God forbid someone shines a blacklight on me, or I’ll glow like a Motel 6 bedspread.
This morning, Eve peed out the side of her diaper while nursing (as she tends to do on days that end in “-day”), causing a hot ink blot of urine to spread across my torso. I meant to change my top – really, I did. But between Tummy Time, nap time, and a 10-minute mommy-daughter dance sting to Culture Club, Lauryn Hill and Britney Spears, I just sort of forgot to change out of my pee-soaked nursing tank.
Then the sun came out and I saw my chance to throw the babe into the stroller and dash over to CostCo. On my way out the door, I noticed a few breast milk stains dotting my top. Here’s a transcript of my inner dialogue:
Me: “Do I really want to go out in public with breast milk splotches on my top?”
Me: “The old Leslie would never do such a thing. The old Leslie liked looking good and wearing cute clothes and showering on a daily basis.”
Me: “Nobody at CostCo cares if your tank top looks like it’s lactating. They’re too busy lining up for samples of all-beef franks and gummi vitamins.”
Me: “You have approximately 74 minutes before Eve wakes up and you need to eat something besides Nestle cookie dough and all the M&Ms and salty raisins from the bag of trail mix. Go to CostCo.”
And so I went. I’m actually sort of stunned that Stacy London and Clinton Kelly didn’t ambush me in the dairy section. If my milk stains were used as a Rorschach test, study participants would surely call out words like “resignation,” “fatigue” and “defeat.”
I bought $40 worth of organic chicken breasts at CostCo, intending to freeze most of them so we’d have dinner at the ready over the next few weeks. Back home, as I was transferring them into individual plastic bags for marinating and freezing, a shot of chicken juice streaked across my stomach. That was the last straw: My baby can nestle against a little pee, but I draw the line at her possibly contracting salmonella poisoning from my torso.
As I changed tops, I thought about how fantastically un-sexy I have become over the last month-and-a-half. Half the time, I’m walking around with My Brest Friend orbiting my waist and a boob hanging out. The closest I’ve come to a manicure is rubbing A & D diaper rash cream into my cuticles. I drew up a list – check me out:
Top 5 Sexiest Things I’ve Done as a New Mom
- Used my mouth to suck snot out of my baby’s nose with a device called the NoseFrida Snot Sucker.
- Worn – and rewashed and reworn – the disposable mesh underwear from the hospital. Please note, these things are big enough to be used as a shopping bag at my local farmer’s market.
- Woken up with such a spastic start at the sound of Eve crying that I smacked myself in the face, gouging out a divot of skin from my nose. It subsequently scabbed over, leaving me looking like an acne-riddled teenage boy.
- Eaten food with my hands moments after a diaper change, without remembering to stop and use some soap or instant sanitizer.
- Called Dan into the bathroom to show him how fabulous my new size D ta tas look…only to have him point at them and say, “Um…you might want to take care of that” as milk shot out like one of those Sizzlin’ Cool Octopus Backyard Water Sprinklers from our childhood.
How about you? What was your sexiest new mom moment?