Nat has a fairly decent obsession with Legos right now. So, we took the family to a Lego convention in San Jose. Being Legos and being in Silicon Valley, the convention was filled with a variety of nerd species. There were steam punks, Star Wars and Star Trek (avoiding one another of course) and even a few self-created Sci-fi-ish creatures. The majority were those I affectionately call garden variety geeks.
I love nerds. I wish when I was younger that I had recognized their coolness. I would have made much healthier choices in boyfriends and girlfriends if I had gone to the dork side earlier. Most of the kids in my circle were more concerned with vying for social status than in being kind or understanding of other people. It was not something I enjoyed, so I hopped around from friend to friend every few weeks when the back-biting got to be too mean for me. I have found most geeks to be genuinely interested in understanding one another’s diversity in a more organic way than the garden variety un-geek. There are of course many exceptions on both sides of wherever that arbitrary dork-line is drawn. I tend to be attracted to those who have that quality of acceptance and really, even the un-geeks are still freaks, they’re just better at appearing normal (cliché alert: whatever normal is)
I’m married to a self-named geek. I’m not entirely certain that his high school classmates would agree if his yearbook is any indication. But he does have the hallmarks, such as, being a techie, loving SciFi, and having a few embarrassing photos of his 12 year old self, involving a Blues Brothers hat and shorty-short shorts. Aside from that, he’s self-confident although quiet. He’s very open to his much more emotional wife’s hare-brained ideas about crunchy parenting and green living (except backyard chickens, but I’m working on that.) He’s down with wearing a Star Wars shirt and rocking an Ergo.
We went from display to display of intricate lego builds with Nat extolling his wonderment. Gan had an excellent view from the carrier on his Dad’s back, so was also entranced. Bud was getting squirmy and needed a feed, though. I spotted an empty hotel conference room style chair pushed against the wall and quickly pounced on it so I wouldn’t have to breastfeed sitting on the floor. Sitting on the floor to breastfeed can be nice because fewer people glance at me (unless I position myself accidentally at a hallway junction or something, as I’ve been known to do when distracted by a rooting bub) But I’d prefer not to directly expose myself or my nursling to the unknown level of cleanliness of or the industrial cleaners used on a hotel conference hall carpet.
So, I breastfed on this hotel chair with my back to the wall, sandwiched between some worn out grandparents and I noticed something. I was being looked at. A lot. But, not in the way you’re probably thinking. It certainly wasn’t something I was used to.
There were many moms there trailing behind their gangly teen sons who overtopped them by a foot. And they would each smile fondly as they passed by. I could see in their faces that they remembered their boys as babes at the breast. I felt uplifted by these wordless connections. It’s not often I have such an overwhelmingly supportive experience breastfeeding in a crowd of strangers.
I smiled at my own nursling and imagined him overtopping me by a foot by the time he’s a teenager. I hope I’m lucky enough to trail behind him at a Lego festival and smile wistfully at another mama breastfeeding a future dork.
- Once More with Feeling (touchstonez.com)
- I’ve Gone To The Dork Side (touchstonez.com)
- Breastfeeding Flavors (touchstonez.com)
- Wordless Wednesday: Tandem Breastfeeding Holding Hands (touchstonez.com)
- Wordless Wednesday: Tandem Breastfeeding Statue (touchstonez.com)