Sunday, November 29, 2009
...and for Christmas I want a husband that can breastfeed.
Because, really, how could would THAT be? The genius idea came to me the other night during one of the many, many midnight feedings. There I was: propped up against the headrest of the bed, boppy pillow in place, feeding Colt, staring off into space and listening to my wonderful husband snore quietly in what looked like the most wonderful sleep of all time. I'll admit it: I was a little jealous - having just cleaned, diapered and fed the baby yet again, and preparing to spend a good 30-40 minutes having the marrow sucked from my bones while he, well, just slept.
So here I make my case for the breast feeding man: why in God's name would men HAVE nipples if they weren't meant to USE them? It's not like they're there for looks, right? It seems like the only good thing for men to do with them these days is pierce them which, in my opinion, would render them useless for breastfeeding anyway.
I suspect that in the early stages of genetic engineering a man (of course) was thinking to themselves, "Hmmm. I HATE getting up all the time in the middle of the night to feed the baby. If I somehow deleted the breastfeeding gene from my genome I would be totally off the hook with this one." And is was then, in a feat of engineering magic when men were genetically engineered to be unable to breastfeed. They still have the nipples so they look right, but the nipples themselves are rendered useless. Furthermore, I suspect that when said gene-deletion occured they also deleted the gene that codes for the ability to tell when the toilet paper is out, when a load of laundry needs done or the dishwasher unloaded.
So, Amy, if you're reading this: if you get your wife for Christmas I better wake up this Christmas morning and find a husband who makes breast milk.