International fellowship of mothers


My sister-in-law, fiance and his parents were visiting Seattle for the weekend, and so we all packed up to take advantage of the brief moment of sunshine and headed to do tourist things that we hardly take time to do. Pike Place Market was where we began, but after an hour and a half, Potamus was quite famished. Not to be deterred by the crowds, I stopped in a little open spot between some vendor’s stalls, sat down and whipped it out. I had forgotten my hooter hider, so I just threw a swaddle blanket over myself and let Potamus go to town.

Two minutes later a crotchety balding redheaded man came barging out of the vendor stall huskily saying “listen, this is the ONLY way out of here for vendors, you need to move.” I would like to believe he didn’t see the child sticking out of my shirt, and just thought I was being lazy, but he got upset that I was taking so long to move out of his way.  If I hadn’t been with strangers I  would have simply bared my breast, stood up and tried to make that man as uncomfortable of possible. Potamus was crying because he was hungry, and I wasn’t about to go traipsing about the market with a screaming starving child. So I leaned against the doorframe, out of redhead’s way (btw, he was in a huge hurry to go smoke a cigarette about 5 feet from me) to finish feeding. This position wasn’t very comfortable, but I was doing fine, and then a sweet, probably no taller than 4’10 older Asian woman hobbled over to me with a folding chair and motioned me to sit.

Mothers get it. Language means nothing, we make eye contact and she saw a need for a mom to feed her child and she stepped up to help. And she disappeared into the vendor foray. When potamus was done I folded the chair and set it inside the nearest stall, and the little old Asian man (her husband? Her son?) Said “hungry baby needs to eat.” And said he would give her the chair back.