Ah, the wonders of womanhood

This morning we had to take both Frankie and Molly to Grand Rapids for renal ultrasounds because Molly's urologist thinks I have propagated a familial urinary tract lemonhood. Frankie swaggered down the hallways, 27 pounds of confidence swinging her arms casually, having the time of her life riding the elevator and getting a sucker for lying so still during her test. Just as things were going swimmingly, it was Molly's turn. For a renal ultrasound, you have to lie on your stomach and be pretty motionless. I had my misgivings a month ago when I asked the urologist if Molly needed to be sedated and he looked at me like I was crazy and said "But she's just a little baby." Yeah, a little baby whose only achievements in life thus far have been to wildly roll back and forth and wedge herself under the furniture and to bring her legs up to her chin and then thwack them down on the crib mattress so hard that the floor shakes. The ultrasound tech had the bright idea that I should lie down on the table and then hold Molly on top of me so that we were tummy to tummy. It was just like trying to embrace a rabid raccoon and get it to be still for a nice black-and-white portrait only without the frothing. The tech seemed a bit put out whenever Molly moved, which was constantly, letting out little sighs of frustration and repeatedly asking if Molly would take a pacifier. Maybe a pacifier dipped in tranquilizer. Finally, I did what any nursing mom knows will shut up the most wriggling and irate infant, or as Dean has coined it "When in doubt, whip it out." I have barely mastered nursing with Molly lying next to me, a feat I never attempted in the 26 months I nursed Frankie; needless to say I have never nursed lying flat on my back with my child lying on top of me. Awkward it was, but, golly gee if it didn't shut her up.