Note: Honey, I love you! You are a wonderful wife, a great mother and a fantastic companion. You are everything I’ve ever wanted out of life and I look forward to spending the next sixty some odd years with you. That being said, I apologize for the following post. I’d also like to point out that putting arsenic in someone’s soup is illegal, not matter what he or she posts on their blog.

I have successfully survived seven months of breastfeeding a child. Not me personally, of course. My wife is doing all the work. I stand beside her and yell encouragement, do cheers, that kind of stuff. Such as:

Lactate! Lactate!
It’s the food the baby ate!
Goooooooooooo mammary!

Currently I’m not allowed in the house when the family is there. But my fingers are crossed that I’ll be allowed back after weaning. My wife says it has something to do with a loud bass hole that is near her when she’s feeding the baby. I don’t know what a bass hole is, but I hope it goes away soon because I don’t have any clean clothes.

Of course, there are amazing health benefits to breastfeeding. I learned about them in our labor classes. Things about health that I don’t remember because I was trying to tie my shoes in a Celtic knot. However, I hear they are many. I also understand that breastfed children are genetically predisposed to beating the crap out of formula babies in a bizarre class war that adults will never understand.

Plus, there’s no bottle heating. The baby’s food is on tap, which is a boon. What’s amazing is what a mother can accomplish while the baby is eating. She can run on the treadmill, read a book, cook dinner and feed the baby all at once. I have a hard enough time keeping my zipper from falling down throughout the day.

Men are ill prepared to handle the requirements of breastfeeding. Their requirement, of course, is to shut the hell up and go away until their wife is done. For some reason, tickling the baby while she’s eating is “distracting” and making jokes about Bessie the Cow are “insulting” and “annoying.” Whatever. I just know that breastfeeding includes a lot more than I ever expected.

First of all (my wife is going to kill me) are the maternity bras. They have flaps that allow easy access for the baby. If teen boys knew these existed, there would be a glut on the market.

There is also a need for a “spot” that is quiet and comfortable for her to nurse the baby. I understand this because, well, she has another human being attached to her for the time being and, well . . . that’s odd.

One thing that isn’t mentioned is the machinery that accompanies breast-feeding. Apparently, and men have no concept of this, when the baby hasn’t fed for a while (makes her sound like the undead feasting upon souls of virgins) the breasts hurt. Not just, “Ow my breast hurts” but pain that will actually cause the woman to consider hooking a vacuum cleaner up to her body and milk herself. Again, didn’t know about this.

Men would never be able to handle this. First of all, when their chest began to grow, they’d think it was cancer and try to have them removed. Secondly, they’d never put up with the pain associated with “engorgement”, a word that would frighten them to no end. No, as soon as the pain hit, they’d dump the tanks no matter where they were.

We’re talking about a gender that has no problem with public urination. Do you seriously doubt that men would dump the milk behind a tree in their neighbor’s yard?

If men breastfed, the taboo of breastfeeding in public would end. Again, I play the public urination card. They wouldn’t care. They’d whip them out right in the middle of dinner. Hell, they’d do it at church. Wouldn’t bother them a bit.

However, there is some sort of bizarre taboo against women feeding their children in public. Why? It’s quite natural. We watch our dog poop in the lawn and laugh. See a woman discretely feeding a baby in public, a blanket covering all the naughty bits, and she’s infringing on your rights. For some reason it’s okay for teen girls to walk around showing ass crack and baring cleavage that would make Lonnie Anderson faint, but breastfeeding moms have to hide.

The world makes little sense to me. But that’s okay. I don’t think it’s supposed to. If it did, then I’d probably be a woman. And I think I just made it pretty clear why I can’t be . . .