You'd think, by my third child, I'd know a thing or two about how to feed it. And that my body would, too. And while it's true that I wasn't quite so painfully engorged as I was the first time (think volleyball instead of basketball), my body still wants to make sure the kid won't starve. Talk about your food storage. Mine's even portable.
I carry around an abundance of "nursing pads". I use the grammatically unnecessary quotation marks to emphasize the phrase in its kindest form. Usually I refer to these pads by one of several other less polite terms.
Once, in a childbirth class, the teacher recommended we use the cloth, reusable variety. I understand her noble desire to save the earth and all. But she is not me and does not realize that they DO NOT WORK! It's like trying to use a sieve to keep the ocean away. When I buy "nursing pads", I buy them TO WORK. That's their whole purpose, their reason for existing. It's like diapers. You buy them to do their job. I also do not buy cloth diapers for the same reason. If I want to save the earth, I will buy cloth grocery bags. No, wait a minute, I get plastic grocery bags to throw away the disposable diapers and "nursing pads"... Well, never mind.
So how wet do I get? Well, let's put it this way. If the fire department wants to cut back on its equipment budget, they can just call me. I could put out a house fire in about ten seconds. I've been tempted to pose as a water fountain in a park or mall somewhere. At least then people would throw money at me. I'd add it to the food budget to make up for all the extra calories I inhale to produce all this wonderful nutritious stuff.
And then, while I'm feeding her, I leak more. She tries a little to make sure it still tastes the same, then changes her mind and goes back to sleep. So what if her favorite snack gets all over my clothes and turns them a lovely shade of yellow? So what if it gets all over her face and nearly drowns her? Hey, it's cheaper than swimming lessons, right? What an economical baby.
So then I try to go back to sleep, too. But I guess I'm not too good at "nursing pad" placement because I wake up a few hours later, thinking I'm at death's door because my chest is covered in cold, clammy wetness that I'm drowsy enough to think is sweat. Guess again.
With all this spillage, it's a good thing we know how to do laundry at our house. But that's a whole other topic.