Everything Leads Back to the Boob

This was going to be a post on the very serious current events of late. Only after writing, then re-reading, did I notice that everything led back to the boob. So this is what it’s like to be a man…


Last week there was a news story about a dad who left his two year old and four month old in a car while he went out drinking. This, during a record-breaking heat wave. Middle of the night and still 25 degrees Celsius and the windows fully up. My reaction to this story, though not eloquent, is clear. “Fucking Idiot. Why aren’t stupid people sterile?”

As the story continues, a cop attempts to comfort the hysterical four month old. But the baby is crying, inconsolable. My body reacts. Not in futile anger or indignation. It reacts with purpose, with action. My milk lets down. Motherly instinct takes over. A visceral reaction to a vicious situation. Here I am not mommy. I am Mother.


Fires are threatening many communities throughout the province right now. It is impossible to fathom. If I had mere minutes to evacuate, I imagine I would panic. With a newborn in the house, my headspace is thinking immediate need over irreplaceable memento. Think diapers over scrapbooks. Or apples as snack food over my Apple holding thousands of pictures and writing. Or maybe I’d be one of the ones who’d stay behind to protect my homestead. That’d be me, rooftop, topless and spraying as intensely as any sprinkler.


Laura Ling and Euna Lee are freed from North Korea after Bill Clinton visits leader Kim Jong-Il. Big story yes? Communism, nuclear weapons, foreign policy and hard labour make for intense talk. But what I want to discuss here is Joy Behar’s comment on ‘The View’ of how sexy Bill Clinton is. Whereby they show this picture:

SexyAnd I laugh because sexy should so NOT be associated in any way with this photo. Only somehow it is. While contemplating the anomaly of Bill Clinton’s charisma and sex appeal alongside the exact opposite of that Kim Jong-Il, I forget about the matter at hand, nursing my baby. Glancing down, I quickly re-latch my baby but not before she gets a booby-milk face wash.


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