So I’m watching this Netflix show about home organization and the mom, the organizer is helping, has two kids. One of which comes up to mom during the interview and says, “Mom, I want boobies.”

The kid wanted to eat. From mom. Old enough to walk into the room and say it. At that moment, the spotlight on the beauty of organization went out the window and my head exploded. Boom. I’m completely co-opted by a new topic. All I can think about is this. The organizer, and what I’m sure she will accomplish has left the building. Not literally, the organizer stayed on the show, but I clicked off.

It’s tricky when you write a blog and want to express your opinions without offending anyone. But what the hell, I’m going to do it. That moment was completely gross. Get over yourself! If the kid can walk and talk, and self-manage, and eat real food, there is no reason to continue to breastfeed. WTF!

I can feel the La Leche moms growling behind me. They are walking down the street like a group of undead.

“Come and get me!” I roar out the window. “And guess what! I never breast fed!” I laugh manically and run for the shotgun.

No. That is not happening – is it? (I just checked. Not yet.)

That’s right. You heard me. I never breast fed my children. Did you really want to know that? Probably not. But Netflix started this. It was a personal decision I made and yes, there was a tremendous amount of pressure to do it. I will admit that it’s possible I made a terrible mistake, but both my kids (aside from weird things) were super healthy. I recall two ear infections, total. Really, that’s about it. Now, as adults, they thank me for not having to deal with that horrifying picture. You are welcome.

I remember being in the hospital after giving birth to my daughter and a couple of La Leche interventionists and a nurse strolled into the room to counsel me. I recall the conversation being very short. I told them to get out and to bring my baby with a bottle of Similac. I will not go into the list of reasons why I chose this path, but the decision was made.

“Grrrrrrr..”

I scramble to the window. Are they here? My back to the door, I grab my puppy and hunker down. I hear a click, click, click, tapping at the front door. What—zombies don’t know how to use a bell? Idiots.

Breastfeeding is great. Do it. It is probably best. Science is telling us that. I was probably wrong in my decision, but for the life of me, I cannot see what harm I did. All I’m saying is that I think there should be a cut off point where it is ridiculous and creepy to breastfeed your kid. You’re grossing all of us out! Do you care about that? Stop it! Junior shouldn’t have a snack before he gets on the bus. It’s not cute! By making them cute it up with “boobies” does not mean that you are doing the right thing. No wonder you need a professional to come help you organize, you’re too busy being weird. You should…..

Bang! Bang! Bang! Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

Shit… I gotta go.