The Cess Pool

Fine. I live in Cobble Hill. Carbon copy of Park Slope with a few more Italian restaurants. The carbon copy aspect is becoming more true--we're getting their Tea Lounge, they're getting our Sweet Melissa. Anyway, point is a certain amount of stroller, double stroller forgiveness is to be expected. But today was intolerable.

Breakfasting at Naidres (again, Park Slope has one, so do we)... I could not enjoy my yogurt + Mark Twain because this nursing coach was instructing en haut voix about how mothers shouldn't swap breasts so much because the babies will drink too much of the sweet liquid that comes from the breast prior to the actual breast milk. Next, I got to hear about various latching positions and the best way to vary the weight. A woman in the corner and I exchanged knowing glancecs. I left.

Only to go to the Cobble Hill park to try and enjoy a fifeteen minute coffee break with my working-from-home husband. But while he was releasing his anxiety about his job, I was growing ever more tense as three women with three newborns strolled by. Meanwhile, the park, as always was filled with toddlers and other new mothers.

So, we left. Only to walk down the street and pass not one, not two, but three pregnant women (I bet my husband didn't even notice). Later, on the train, a pregnant woman got on, and another one was walking down the stairs as we passed her to go for a jog.

Is EVERYONE pregnant except me? I think I even saw a few lactating men. I swear.