Week 31, Day 5 (Whip it... out!)

Last night's antenatal class was a real pearler!

Good thing we didn't drop out, eh ;-) Breastfeeding was the topic, and we each brought along a doll or teddy to practice on. But as we're not dolls or teddy people, the nearest thing we owned that would do was the parrot puppet.

This puppet has a bit of a dark past.

We picked it up in a garage sale some years ago, as a sex toy for one of our parrots who had some nasty habits. To call Fred E. Clectus (he was an eclectus, geddit?) a wanker would be a huge understatement. We desperately hoped to wean him away from elbows, hands, perches and shoulders as his love objects, and possibly convince him of the joys of birdie bopping.

So when we saw a puppet of roughly Fred's size, in almost exactly the right colouring for a female Eclectus, we figured it was worth a shot.

After all, when you're dealing with a self-pleasurer who is at it several times a day to the point where he had no tail feathers left, it shouldn't be hard to change the flavour of the month? Or should it?

Yeah well.. Fred took one look at this multicoloured soft thing and threw himself off his perch in fright. Even across the room was far too close for comfort. Such was his aversion that I now quietly admit that I would bring out the toy when we were expecting guests, and *casually* leave it somewhere discreet because just having it in sight meant Fred didn't disgrace himself in front of visitors for a change.

Poor old Fred passed over the Rainbow Bridge a couple of years ago, but the parrot puppet remains. Wayne wore it to a "P" themed party some weeks back, calling himself "The Pissed Pastel Parrot's Playful Party Perch", and that worked rather well as the puppet kept listing off his shoulder (despite the safety pins) rather much like a drunken sailor.

So that's the parrot's tale, and why we refer to it as the sex toy ;-) (I still think it was the size of the cloaca that traumatised poor old Fred.. talk about inadequacy issues!)

Anyhoo, back to last night ;-)

I learned several very useful things, ie:

Did you know that colostrum smells and tastes exactly like amniotic fluid? (I do not want to KNOW who did the taste test, okay? Ewwww...) Current thinking indicates that it's a familiarity thing for the baby (yeah, makes sense) but given that amniotic fluid is said to smell either like a fetid swamp or semen, I have but one comment; "I must remember to pack a large strong clothespeg for my nose in amongst the hospital items!"

When going for a good 'lock', aim your nipple at the baby's nose, not their mouth, then flip it in.

If you can hear slurping noises, clicking or see milk bubbling at the edges of the baby's mouth, disengage and try again. If you don't, you can guarantee that you'll damage your nipples.

There seems to be a link between saggy jeans on boy racers and toddlers with a loaded (hanging) nappy: the sag indicates that it's time for a change of underwear and a reduction in smell (sorry.. but the dude absolutely stunk last night and I couldn't help noticing the comparison!). So next time you see someone with their pants hanging off their squidgy little hips, think of a loaded toddler and have a wee chuckle.

On a slightly less nauseating smell-o-vision, he did help me out by showing me how I deal with the next time I get a craving for a ciggie. Whenever a smoker (partic one who's just put one out) passes by me, I want to heave. Good grief, did I smell that bad? Ewwww! (Slaps self) I am NOT going to turn into one of those self righteous ex-smoker prats, fear not. Especially as I still grapple most days with wanting to start up again, especially when bored, aggravated or dealing with annoyances (ie housework.. those four days of cleaning with no fag breaks nearly killed me!)

Two antenatals to go, lots we haven't covered yet (haven't finished with breastfeeding topics either) but I'm glad we hung in there.

Btw .. have you seen the new 'Breast is Best' poster? It's a woman sitting on a park bench, leaning over a good sized toddler (about 3, I reckon) who is standing, hanging off her boob. We discussed the poster last night, and pretty much universally agreed that while we were in favour of breast feeding, this poster was counterproductive because it pushed too many 'ick' buttons.

Maybe in five years we'll be okay with kids who are capable of tying their own shoelaces copping a feed in public. Still, it beats the hell out of the present alternative, which reduces many breastfeeding Mums to feeding in mall toilets etc!