It’s that time of year again: WEDDING SEASON. That time of year where everybody is getting married off. Where you get to see your old party friends before you never see them again until the next pair marries off. It’s a lot different now that I’m a breastfeeding mom with two littles pawing at my bra. Last year, I was an actual bridesmaid and I made it being gone from Humnoy for an entire day. I was decently pregnant and my milk had dried up but it was still very hard being apart. This year, we were invited to a wedding that we plan to attend at the end of August. Lanoy will be at the tail end of six months around the wedding. We may or may not have started baby-led weaning by this time but as you know, BLW doesn’t mean they’re eating much of anything. I will still be exclusively breastfeeding her so I love and hate weddings.
I love weddings because they’re friggin’ fun as hell. Free food, free music, free mostly everything and hanging with people you love. Did I mention that they serve food? Anytime someone offers me food, I am all over that shit like it’s my second dinner. When I mentioned it to GH about his final say for our official RSVP, he was surprised I was going to opt out because she’ll only be six months. He saw it as an opportunity to have a ‘date night.’ I had never thought about that because a) Mom brain, b) breastfeeding baby, and c) what’s ‘date night?’ The super awesome thing is that the wedding is back in my hometown, where I would leave the kids with my mom, who I have still have not spoken to with her recent tirade on my failure with my success. Bright side is I wouldn’t have to talk to her when I drop off her beautiful grand babies. My mom’s house is also a 7-minute drive from the venue. Also, a few hours kid-free? EEEEEEE.
I hate weddings because they’re a lot of work. Wedding guests aren’t allowed to say that, are they? Whatever, I said it. Being a breastfeeding wedding guest is even more work. Being a breastfeeding guest at a no-children-allowed wedding is tough shit. With the wedding less than two months away, I have no pumped milk or even any idea how to give the baby the pumped milk. Humnoy didn’t take the bottle for a few months when I returned to part-time work. This part literally terrifies me and also kicks my ass into high gear to put my pumping milk tips to practice. There’s also the thing of looking halfway decent as a wedding guest. Weddings aren’t a place for spandex capris or a sloppy bun.
image courtesy saludoimage.com
I’m torn. I mailed off our RSVP excitedly as I imagined a night of alcoholic drinks and dry-humping my husband on the dance floor like old times. I then realize how little Lanoy will still be by that time. God, she’ll only 7 minutes away. Once I leave because no one can calm her down like my tits can, it’s unlikely we’ll come back unless NSYNC is performing or something. She’ll also most likely sleep most of the time I’m gone. PER USUAL. Why am I still even thinking about this? WTF is wrong with me; there will be food. I’m such a goddamn mom.