Who ever would have thunk it … that me referencing “hands free” would be in regards to … wait for it … breast pumping.

That’s right, People. Nothing to do with a cell phone here. It’s all about the boobs. Still. I’ll be saying, still, for the next 10 months. We’ll see if I make it that long.

Seriously — you mama’s out there that make it a FULL year breast feeding, I bow down to you. You are all like Beyonce to me, my Queen B’s. You are my inspiration. My goal right now is just to make it six months. If I can make it that long, I will consider that one huge whopping success.

I’m well aware that breast feeding is easy street for some mothers. I mean, at least this is what I have been told and have read. I remain somewhat leery and skeptical till one of you steps forward to confirm this for me.

Obviously I don’t fall in this “easy” category. This in large part is probably due to five weeks and going strong of ongoing mastitis which is summed up by this one word: burning. I am burning boobs. It’s like my Native American call name now. BB for short.

Clearly I’m not the mama standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner, with three other kids running wildly, madly around — along with a baby in a sling on my hip that has my nipple in his mouth.

Yes, this is a real life example I am using here. Okay, as real as Instagram can get and I think that’s pretty damn real because we all know I have an Instagram addiction. Something about losing yourself and your life in the voyeuristic world of another. What the hell is it about that anyway that can reel us in? Probably the fact that deep down, we’re all voyeurs.

Of some sort or another.

About this breast feeding business. Because oh, is it ever a business. In the sense that it takes all damn day and is another full time job {not in the business sense of “selling” it – um no thanks I’ll pass}, in addition to having to care for a a baby. Jesus. Who the hell has time to work? That’s the million dollar question on my mind because I will be returning to work at the beginning of August.

I have serious mixed emotions and conflictions {is that even a word??} about this. As all working mothers do. I’ll spare you my inner drama dialogue for now.

Since ya know, I’m trying to be all in the moment and working my power of now. Not my power of August or July or whenever the hell my mind likes to race ahead to.

Instead I’m focusing my attention and thoughts back to things like : gee isn’t it so great that I can blog AND pump BOTH my boobs — all at the SAME TIME!!!!!!

It’s in these small wins that I feel a huge sense of victory. Over what, who knows. Perhaps Motherhood. Babyhood. Lifehood. Some kind of ‘hood.

But I tell you, People. When I look at FOH and he looks at me now, as in really looks at me — none of this two week old bullshit of cross eyed and constant sleeping — and he smiles that smile and I hear him coo.

I’m done. My heart explodes with such love and joy that I feel that I might literally blow up.

This is what matters. Well this and hands free boob pumping.