Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s done this, this time of year…
BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS
A spinach/egg white omelet
beats a plate of eggs and bacon.
If a healthy breakfast’s what you want,
that’s what you should be makin.’
This morning, though, I’m going for broke —
so here’s the meal I’ve chosen:
A dozen yummy Thin Mints,
oh-so-fabulously frozen.
©2015 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz
Yep, it exists. And World Breastfeeding Week 2014 takes place this week — August 1 – 7.
Thanks to social media, we’ll be hearing a lot about it — from the many controversies surrounding it to the numerous celebrities who proudly and publicly support the practice.
I’m happy to do my part by sharing a special subcategory of humorous verse the likes of which Ogden Nash and Dorothy Parker never conceived: breastfeeding limericks. Yep, they’re a thing — at least as far as I and this blogger are concerned.
And in honor of World Breastfeeding Week, I’d like to milk them for all their worth.
THE BENEFITS OF BREASTFEEDING
Although many new moms may contest
either viewpoint re: “Bottle or Breast?”
most new dads will attest
that a milk-enhanced chest
leaves no question: Indeed, breast is best.
THE LAMENT OF THE POSTPARTUM EXECUTIVE
As through my career I progressed,
quite often I’d dress to impress;
but of late it’s my fate
(because now I lactate)
that these days I just dress to express.
SOB STORY
After hours at a pump that’s been plying
liquid gold from them, there’s no denying
moms of lactating ilk
know there’s one kind of milk
that – when spilt – fully justifies crying.
WHY PAD?
When for breastfeeding needs you’re equipping,
there’re a few things you shouldn’t be skipping,
like soft nursing pads —
be sure you’ve got scads
of them, ready to hide any dripping.
Best of all, when it’s time to resign
nursing duties, these pads’ smart design
means you don’t have to lose ‘em
because you can use ‘em
as coasters for under your wine.
©2014 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz
While in New York City for work last week, I had an opportunity to extend my business trip and enjoy a mini-vacation, so I took it.
I stayed an extra two days, spending the night at a friend‘s apartment near the Queensboro Bridge. It’s a marvelous place, modest and cozy and full of light, thanks to the living room’s wall of windows overlooking 59th Street and First Avenue.
Whenever I visit, I love to just sit and observe the motion of Manhattan through those windows.
From my perch on the 16th floor, I watched cabs streaming down First Avenue and 59th and across the bridge. I saw a fabulous thunderstorm creep in from the southwest, slowly and ominously filling the space over the skyscrapers with darkening billows of blue-gray. And, best of all, I had a front-row seat to the comings and goings of the Roosevelt Island tram.
Because it’s a commuter service, if you’re watching during morning or evening rush hour, you’ll see it pass back and forth quite often, every 5 minutes or so. Of course, for a shutterbug like me, it provides an abundance of photo ops. But wouldn’t you know it, the one time I didn’t have a camera handy, I spied something unexpected. Because I didn’t rush to find my iPhone or little point-and-shoot Canon, I don’t have a record of what I saw. Well, except for what I wrote about it.
ABOVE THE FRAY
Wide-awake red
against hazy Manhattan morning,
the tram glides into view
two dozen stories above First Avenue
and I’m startled to spy some guy
propped atop it —
blue-uniformed, one leg perched
on the big-riveted beam holding cabin beneath cables;
Washington crossing a river of cabs and commuters.
He looks brave to me.
But as the tram passes I see
he’s simply standing there on the rather wide roof,
catching a ride, I guess, to the other side.
He must just be doing his job,
checking mundane mechanisms,
gears and belts and wheels,
ready to find and fix
any glitch in the system.
I happened to look up and spot him,
but did the passengers know
he stood guard over them?
Island to island,
a solitaire sentinel,
arms left loose at his sides–
heroic enough for not holding on,
this Manhattan mechanic.
Probably I alone
witnessed his sureness
for those few minutes
on the Roosevelt tram rooftop
when he was King of the World —
or at least
the Upper East Side.
©2014 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz
The Well-Versed Mom 