So this is the time in our lives right now where our friends are either getting married or having babies…so last year, we accepted invitations to three weddings. One for Nov 08 and two for June 09…..so I partied and danced like the ballroom dancer I was (am?) at the November wedding, bracing my 5 month pregnant belly and therefore thought nothing of it that we would have to take our newborn son to two summer weddings next year…..

we have learnt our lesson.

The first weekend wedding was in Boston. We live in Canada. And we couldn’t really afford to pay for the 45 min flight (and honestly, who wants to haul ALL of the gear through security and onto the plane….) So, we stubbornly innocently googled the directions and discovered that it was only an 8 hour drive. We thought we were being extra-prepared parents by adding a (whole) 2 extra hours for nursing and changing diapers. Easy peezy right? Um, no.

We stopped every two hours because little Eliel was on that type of feeding schedule at that time and it took about 40 mins each time for the whole process. Then at one of the last “stops”, after successfully changing his wet diaper and proceeding to return to the car, I hear the “booty gurgle”…which meant none other than another diaper change. I go back to the washroom, undo his onesie and see that he’s completely decorated himself. No sweat, I have my trusty diaper bag, filled with all the essentials…right? Um, no.

I had forgotten that I had taken out some things from the diaper bag when looking for something else while in the car. Ooohh..k. But oh look, here is a pair of pants and his little hoodie. So I think to myself: “I will just clean him up, put these clothes on him to take him back to the car and then add the extra layers, namely the onesie. Right? Um, no.

I pull out the wipey-washcloth thingy case, unclasp the latch and pull out a wipe….all with one hand. I am doing great! Fantastic even. Yeah, I am a super-mom. Where is my medal?? Um…..oh no, what did we just realize?! That was the LAST wipe. Terror on my face for um, this math is just not going to add up. The mess that is all over my son’s bum and back (and oh now feet, for he just kicked it!) won’t be cleaned up with just.one.wipe! I catch the glance of another lady in the washroom. Okay, so she looks like a “tough biker chick” who would eat me alive if I asked her to come any closer to my baby’s poopy diaper, but I am desperate and ask: um, maam (is this the right word???) can you um, give me a couple of paper towels please?? I think I noticed somewhat of a grimace and a slant of the eyes, but she grabs a few and practically throws them onto the change table. As if her skin will be damaged by diffusion of baby poop smell.

I clean Eliel up as much as possible which is difficult for he’s on one of those vinyl change pads on a change table so what this means is that for every slight movement he makes, he hears a “shl” sound and this keeps freaking him out, making him jump, which makes the “shl” sound, which freaks him out, making him jump, which makes….get the drift? Eliel got to really give his facial muscles a serious workout: happy, surprised, happy, surprised. It was hilarious.

I successfully finished cleaning him up and wearing only a hoodie and a pair of pants that ended up being too big for him, I took him back to the car and added some more layers.

And about the wedding? Well, after this hour long “visit” at the highway service station, we knew that we would miss the ceremony and decided to not rush it and just be on time for the reception….

Now the second wedding…

So, as I am twirling my “she’s got it under control” medal on my little pinky finger, I feed Eliel in preparation for a half hour ceremony starting at 2:30. We are all good to go, get to the ceremony location early and the little one is s.l.e.e.p. Yes! We take our seats thinking “yeah, this is easy. K, we can have more. No problem”. Um no.

The wedding planner makes an announcement that the bride is running late, so “go outside and enjoy the June weather for about a half hour”. A half hour…?! Um, okay…..And well, this half hour turned into almost 2 hours…and so what happens??? Yeah, you’re onto it.

Finally the wedding planner gives the cue that the wedding will be starting soon and so my son takes that as his cue to start fidgeting…..how did he even hear the cue??? So, down comes the groom, the parents and oh no, the bridal party is coming down individually. As in one-by-one. How big did she say was her bridal party? Fidget, fidget. Shh, shh, son. We stand. I stand gingerly. Dont.wake.the.sleeping.child!

The bride comes through the door and is walking down the aisle. Slowly. Which, yes, as a wedding planner myself, I know she’s supposed to do. Fidget. Squeak. She gets all the way down the aisle and that is when my son takes center stage: waaaaaaa.

As inconspicously as I could, I fly down the aisle, trying to get the heck out of there with a screaming baby. I practically cover his mouth with my  hand and feel the insta-guilt. Did I just….yes, I just put my hand over my baby’s mouth. Luckily, the sprint wasn’t too long (and I don’t think anyone noticed!!!) and I go through the doors. I barely sigh my mommy-relief and smile a weak smile to the wedding planner on the other side of the door when I had this sneaky suspicion of the door I just went through. The very.heavy.wooden.door. As in the one that would probably yes,  SLAM as it closed. Making this huge ECHO of a noise that just went ALL through the vaulted ceiling during the ceremony. Um, hi, did anyone notice how cute my baby is?? *awkward moment* I glared at the floor, mumble sorry to the wedding planner and tiptoed to the nearest stairs I could find. (Yes, for even my heels were making that ridiculously loud click click….ugh!) Can I NOT be drawing any more attention to myself as the wedding planner w/the crying baby???!!!

So we deal with that situation. My son returns to his content and clean state and we head to the reception…..which again starts about 2 hours later! Can you see where I am going with this? At the reception, during the cocktail hour, he wants to eat. Okay, I feel prepared for this. We get out the nursing blanket and I try to latch him on. But he is having absolutely  NOTHING to do with this. As a new mom, I hadn’t the slightest idea that the noise from about 200 ppl at a cocktail hour could be in any way distracting or over-stimulating to him. I thought it would be like white noise. Or that my milk would just solve everything and he wouldn’t care about anything else. How wrong I was? Well, for about 10 mins, I am trying to latch him on while trying to keep the blanket in place, hold a conversation with my table mates and not look flustered. Not only was this ordeal only causing little Eliel to fuss even more (for he wasn’t getting the milk, but not realizing how BIG of a role he was actually playing in this!), but he was sweating, I was sweating and my nice little do’ was turning into a fro from the residual humidity from this little wrestling match. A friend of ours who had a baby about a month before I did, came over to me (Bless her heart!) and asked, “Are you trying to feed him”? WOW. Was it that obvious? I think she came from all the way from the other side of the room! She told me that she found a spot where the babies could be nursed and that she would take me over there now. R.E.L.I.E.F So I head there, husband in tow. Well, she opens the door and it’s a closet. No, I am totally not exaggerating — it fit a chair. So I couldn’t do anything else so I sat on the chair and they closed the door in front of me (literally). My knees touched the door. And I nursed. Heard some noise in my little nursing cave and to my horror, come to realize that this “room” could be accessed by the kitchen and ITS STAFF! It wasn’t fully walled on the back side so ppl could just peer around and over and see me in action. I tried to be as quiet as possible so they wouldn’t even know I was there. Meanwhile, my husband is on the other side of my closet talking to a friend of his, kind of manning the door and making sure no one tries to enter. (I could just see it now, they just open the door and throw their coat in, it landing on me and me not wanting to break Eliel’s latch for fear of him screaming and bringing all the kitchen staff my way!) Oh yeah — this closest was right behind the DJ area so I had to hurry nursing bc once the DJ started the music, this area would be even more loud than just the 200 talking people. So I am sititing there in my little cave, hurry Eliel, shh Eliel, k, hurry little guy……When he was done, we got ready to come out and it just must of looked really funny for out of no where comes a woman and her baby (now doing that “I just filled completely on milk and I am O.U.T look”) who are both completely red in the face bc it was sweltering in that little room….

Does anyone else have any funny nursing stories??? Do tell!