“Damn!” I didn’t think I had said it aloud, but apparently I had.
“What?” He looked at me quizzically.
“Nuthin’” I looked askance.
We continued, but quickened our pace, both knowing that we needed to end this quickly.
I raised one eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Well, now I’m wondering if we should call it quits.”
I shook my head. “No, go on. We need to get this over with.”
We quickened our pace again, ever so slightly.
I groaned. “Damn!”
“I know, I know,” he replied. “Are you still good?”
We continued, our pace now frenetic, almost mindless.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes,” I replied, ceasing to care and having only one thing on my mind.
On and on this went. Finally, the end was in sight.
“Hurry!” I blurted out. The woman looked at me strangely, but complied.
As my husband unloaded into the back, I settled into a comfortable position in my seat. I sighed contentedly as my infant son latched on. My body shuddered in relief as my milk ran almost unabated into the mouth of my ravenous baby.
“Whew!” my husband exclaimed, as he slammed his door shut. “That was nearly a disaster!”
We both chuckled as our son continued to nurse. Customers passed our car they made their way into the Safeway, unaware that inside the gold sedan, a nursing mom had nearly “spilt her milk” in the dairy aisle.
“That’s the LAST TIME we go grocery shopping this close to his feeding time,” I said pointedly.
Wife, mother, writer, singer – a jill-of-all-trades coming at you in words and photos with musings from the American Southwest desert.