Getting Out of the House of Prince

At seven weeks post-partum, I went to a party last night, during which I tried to be cool and make witty conversation, but it seems all I could talk about was breastfeeding and the fact that I'm breastfeeding and hey! look at my boobs, aren't they hot? (Here is photographic evidence that I got out of the house, although for some reason, I am not credited or linked. Tim.)

At one point I disappeared into a back room to pump, and a woman who only heard that I have a 2-year-old said "Wow, you're still nursing?" I filled her in about the infant, and she was corrected. I know some noble women would still be nursing Kyle, but I certainly can't imagine doing it myself. The way my milk grows kids, Kyle would be 7 feet tall by now.

It was fun being among fellow bloggers, or "my tribe" as I like to call them. Point your fingers and laugh, if you will, but everybody at the party knew what I was talking about when I said "blogfamy," and I even learned what an RSS feed is!

I arrived at the party eager to "get my drink on," but after one gin and tonic (mixed by the witty Whit) my greatest desire was to sneak into the back bedroom and take a nap. Nobody would notice, and there were no children there! At least, none that were mine.

Luckily, since most of the people at the party were parents, the crowd thinned out around 11 as everyone left to pick up their kids. My date and I left around then - not too early, not too late. It was a great evening.

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A shout out to my wonderful husband, who stayed home with both kids and did not run screaming into the horizon when I returned.