For those of you who know me, you know how passionate I am about breastfeeding. As a woman, I feel there is no greater privilege than to be able to breastfeed your baby. Yes, it's work, but once you and baby get the hang of it, there is nothing better. It can develop the most incredible bond between mom and tot. Which is one of my favorite reasons to breastfeed. It's also one of the only things, other than carrying the baby and delivering it into the world, that I, as the baby's mother, alone can provide. It creates a precious dependency on me that is all too fleeting. From the moment they're born, our babies are moving ever closer to independence. To the day when they fly from our nests and strut around on their own. So, not to dip too deeply into morbid thoughts, I cling to those days and weeks and months when my little one NEEDS me in a very unique way.

Of course, when your baby needs to eat every two hours or so, this means you will probably be forced to figure out how to meet that need without completely exposing your heretofore private body parts to the general public. Most people are very accommodating and understanding to nursing moms, at least most people in my world. My immediate family members are so used to the concept that they barely flinch when August starts nuzzling their own "chestal" region indicating an impending howl unless something quenches his hunger. They pass him over quickly, usually just averting their eyes while my practiced hand unsnaps my nursing bra, slips up the shirt just enough for August to land his target and then slip the shirt down enough to afford him some privacy.

There are all sorts of handy gadgets out there to help ensure privacy, but sometimes none of those are on hand. Such as this past Friday night when we stopped in Monticello en route to the Farm, to grab a bite to eat at Ray's. Well, lately, August has decided my meal time signals HIS meal time, as inconvenient as that can sometimes be! So I'm sitting there, my freshly made taco salad exploding out of its paper boat, my mouth watering in anticipation, when August smells the salad and starts wailing for his own. Dern it. I have no blanket, no burp cloths on hand...just my shirt. So, I angle myself into the booth, away from any prying eyes, latch him on and do my best to keep things under cover.

Now, bear in mind we are in SOUTHERN Arkansas, and while these people are the salt of the earth for the most part, sometimes, they're just plain salty. As we sat there in our little booth, eating and minding our own business, a party of 7 or 8 people, old enough to KNOW BETTER (like grandparents or great-grandparents!), traipse past our table and give the usual smiles at cute little Brooklyn. Most of them caught the sideways position of August and just moved right along. Except this one exceptionally dull man who didn't move along. He stopped dead in his tracks. Now, August's cute little feet and chubby legs were visible as was the back of his head, but his little face was completely covered by my shirt and he was nursing away. Mr. Brilliant Passer-By moved closer to our table - Kyle and I exchanged startled glances. The guy made some inane comment about babies...and something or other about how he must make noise..I wasn't getting it. I said, Uh, yeah, the baby is EATING! He was still looking directly at August, still standing there. I was stunned. Who was this imbecile? Did he seriously not GET that I was breastfeeding? Was he a total perv or WHAT?! By this time, Kyle is seriously looking mad and about to get up and clock Mr. Doofus, as was I! Still, this man's expression registered NO comprehension or any intent to move. And I had NOTHING! No cover! My napkin certainly wasn't gonna do it, should August decide just at that moment that he was full and rear back his head, exposing Milk Central to the world!! I was starting to sweat and also get really ticked off when another member of this gentleman's party realized he wasn't moving along, and they called him. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the general direction of my chest and left us in peace. But SERIOUSLY! Get a clue, moron!

Had Kyle not been busy preventing Brooklyn from hurling herself off the bench and I just trying to maintain some dignity, Mr. Monticello would have been lying on the floor, out cold, rendered so by my right hook! It was definitely an adventure.