One Little Woodland Walk

That’s just great.

Milk spurting everywhere. Rain dripping down my face. It has to rain just as soon as I put him to my breast. Great. Now Noah is screeching at the top of his tiny lungs. How does he even make that much noise? Oh, great. Humans coming. My right boob is hanging out. For all the world to see! There’s a deep voice, definitely a man. Quick. Hide the breast.

‘Shhh, Noah, shh, come on.’ I sniff. Of course, because it’s hay fever season, my nose is also running like Niagara Falls. Jolly walks. Why did I think we could go for one little woodland walk on a lovely sunny Sunday which is now turning out to be a pretty disastrous rainy Sunday.

‘Oh,’ the male walker intones with raised eyebrows as I attempt to cover myself with the only damp muslin I brought. ‘Come on, lads.’ His sons. Yes, of course, they are all male.

‘I saw her boobie!’ one of the lads giggles in his pre-pubescent voice as they meander away from me in waterproof coats, because yes, they are well-prepared, unlike me.

I take a deep breath, attempting to reduce the temperature of my face. Right. I push Noah’s mouth to my nipple and get us going again. The rain popping on the leaves above us, trickling down the back of my stained T-shirt.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ I wrench Noah off me, startled by a frog hopping near me. ‘Oh, no!’ Milk spurting everywhere again. Noah wailing. ‘Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. It’s okay. Just suck, come on, suck, suck.’ I perch on the damp log that’s probably infested with woodlice and other eight-legged unbearableness. Finally, he decides crying won’t get him fed and chomps hard, gulping the milk, of which half has contributed to the damp leaves under my feet.

And as I sit uncomfortably, wet and quite alone, although not if I include the frog that has become far too comfortable around me, I can’t help but smile at the little baby in my arms that my husband and I waited so long for. And then there’s a warm eruption from his bottom which continues to make a squelching noise right up his back, and all I can think is, I’m never doing this again.

Writer. Faith walker. Notebook collector. Coffee drinker. Coffee Drinker. Coffee Drinker. Mother of two...and counting... @BathSpaUni MA CW grad.
Posts created 38

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related Posts

Begin typing your search term above and press enter to search. Press ESC to cancel.

Back To Top