When everyone thinks they know you, and your story.
It’s breast cancer awareness month y’all… squeeze a boob, do the right thing!
If your mind did not immediately go to the gutter, please step outside, Elijah and his blazing chariot await.
I did not choose these words (The “D”), they were uttered by my son in reference to something said to him by his pal. This is how the conversation went.
Him: Mama do you know the “D”?
Me: What did you say?
Him: (looking amazed at my lack of knowledge) The “Deeeee”, do you know the “Deeee”?
Me: (Unable to hide my shock and with a quivering voice) What are you talking about?
Him: You know *Kim said his dad is the “D” and insisted that he is the “D”
Me: (exhibiting slight relief and having resumed breathing) What is the D?
Him: Mama! The “D” is the devil!
Me: (Thawing with relief) Oooooh! The Devil! Why is Kim calling his dad the devil?
Him: I don’t know, but he said that is what they call him.
Me: Who is they?
Him: Everyone in their house I guess. I tried telling him the devil is not his dad but he said he was.
Me: Kim must have not understood what he heard, but tell him the devil is biblical and not living in their house.
Him: (scratching his chin…as if he has a beard) Kim puzzles me.
And just like that, the conversation was over.
Which made me very aware of the conversations we have as adults assuming that the children are not soaking up everything we say. *Kim now goes around calling his father the devil, he obviously picked this up from someone, who was not aware or does not care that these words will be repeated before an audience that can not be controlled.
Little ears, innocence, shaping world views from our own homes.
Good people, let us be more careful and conscious of what we are saying in-front of our little ones. It is easier to hold your tongue, than to try undo damaged.
*Kim, not the little boys real name.
I blame it all on poor timing.
I left the house three hours prior to my LO’s appointment factoring in traffic, Nairobi’s erratic weather patterns, and the possibility of running into those dastardly politicians taking up both lanes as they profess lies and make ugly any wall they come across with their unnecessary posters. I get to the doc’s, do the usual checkup (LO has gained weight, yay me!), then the dreaded jabs are given and she screams like I never knew possible.
I figure we have made really good time, so a trip to the supermarket would not be a bad idea. 15 minutes later, we are at Galleria with Nakumatt in sight. I don’t know why, but I strangely looked forward to shopping, even if it’s just for that one soda which I am dying for given my daily dose of caffeine had not been met. I make a bee line for the refreshments aisle, and then I hear it. The slight whimper which signifies that a cry will be next if attention is not given. I rock her slightly, and tell her to go back to sleep, I need only a soda, and maybe those eat-sum-mo cookies then we will be out.
Who was I kidding.
LO got cross as a bear and did not care for my attempts at soothing her. She started screaming, my nerves started grating. I decided to walk as fast as possible towards the drinks section and be out of there before everything went south. I had forgotten that not only was I out of shape, but also .1 of a ton. My attempts at a brisk walk were met by my back aching and my legs slowing down to a crawl, the furthest distance I had covered in months was between my living room and the bedroom, and Nakumatt was not the size of a servants quarter. LO meanwhile had switched it up, and was putting on a grand show for anyone with ears. It was time to feed and she was not going to stop.
I asked a lady in blue where the nursing room was, she looked at me with confusion written all over her face and declared that she was new and did not know where that product was. She referred me to a Nakumatt employee for assistance. Nkt! By now, I had buckets of sweat pouring down my face, and my arms were shaking from the weight of my LO. I spotted a high chair with a table, and figured my feet could use a break. I must have looked like a monster with all the sweat and makeup running down my neck to an already soaked blouse, huffing and puffing and being screamed at by a baby with nothing to wet my parched lips. I was at wits end. I CAREFULLY placed LO on the table and struggled to lift myself on to the chair designed for models with endless legs. I caught sight of the time and realized I had not fed LO in over two hours, no wonder she was upset. I immediately went into autopilot and followed my Tuzo routine.
I grabbed my boobs, but could not remember which one fed last. So I cupped both and “weighed” them to feel which one was heavier. The left one was a clear winner, so I lifted my blouse, unhooked the cup, positioned the boob and placed LO who immediately stopped crying, much to everyone’s relief.
That was when I noticed her.
The lady whose chair I was sitting on had been watching me in shock the whole time. I had taken over her space and she now did not have anywhere to place her Sleek merchandise which she was holding on to for dear life. I gave her a blank look and she stared back, when she pointed at me and lowered her gaze to where I guessed was my chest area. I looked down and saw it, like everyone else on that aisle.
My boobage was all out.
In my haste, I had thrown up my blouse and forgotten to arrange it after deciding lefty was the winner. So now I had one boob feeding, and the other just sitting there, waving at guys and mouthing “call me” to extra fine men who passed by. I gingerly pulled down my blouse, asked about the eyebrow pencil number 123 given mine was almost out. The girl could not find her tongue.
Thankfully, LO was done feeding, I re-cupped my now empty boob, said goodbye and climbed down. Half way to the exit, I realized I had left my handbag behind. I hurried back only to find the same girl standing in front of the chair, right beside my handbag. I picked up my bag and followed her gawk.
I was looking at an imprint of my mammoth butt and back.
I had under estimated the amount of heat and sweat I was emitting. That a butt print was still there 5 mins after exit could not possibly be a good thing. I left without a word. I will be covering up the next time I am in public…to save face.