If I finish that title with what I'm thinking, I'll draw some undesirable readers. Let me just say, "It was the breast of times, it was the worst of times."
You wonder what I'm talking about? Wait-- here's another one: "Meet Peter, my breast friend." Now you wonder what I'm smoking.
Okay, folks, here's the deal: Breastfeeding Awareness Week (Aug 1-7) begins tomorrow. I've been thinking of ideas to celebrate on the old blog, but most of my ideas just don't feel right. Record facts and statistics? Bo-ring. Provide helpful hints? I've been preachy enough lately as it is. More borderline-inappropriate puns? I'll spare you.
I think that what I'd really like to do is tell a story. Mine. Peter's. The story of our nursing relationship-- and a story which, I hope, is sufficiently universal with regard to maternal feelings that mothers of all feeding persuasions (i.e., breast or bottle) might in some small way relate.
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