Peek-a-boob

Or "Boobs on a plane."  Or "If you are going to be nursing on a small plane, sew two nursing covers together."

This post is for my sister-in-law who, after telling her of my embarassing travels said, "If more people talked about nursing in public, we wouldn't have to be embarassed."  So I'm talking about it...

I hate to fly. 

HATE. 

Take off is the worst.  When you are climbing into the sky and the plane turns and then you feel that knot in your stomach like you are on a roller coaster but you're not, you're in the freaking sky! is so NOT my idea of fun.

I vividly remember flying when I was really young with my mom and my sister.  After a quick glance over to my mom, I could see that she was holding on to the arm rests for dear life during a bit of turbulence. My four-ish self said, "This is fun," and my mom replied, "This is not fun.."

Now I'm pretty sure my mom never realized that her comment would stick with me until the age of {almost} 30 and I don't hold it against her, but for that very reason I put on a happy face and never let the girls see me shaking in my shoes.

In trying to make everyone happy and comfortable on every plane trip, which I'm not always successful at accomplishing, I nurse on the plane.  Until our flight to our beach vacation I had never had an issue. 

The planes we have flown on the last few years have all been three seats - aisle - three seats.  This plane?  One seat - aisle - two seats.  And the seats are practically on top of each other.  And the single seat is on a platform, it's own little stage.

And here I am.

After dealing with the initial stage fright, I asked Ryan to snap a cell phone pic from across the aisle because it really was just too funny.  And being 12 months old, Madeline is not a fan of the Udder Cover anymore and kept flipping it off her head.

Oh, and have I mentioned that we were seated in the middle of a foreign tour group? 

No?  Well we were. 

They were communicating in what I assumed to be, from my knowledge watching Ni Hao Kai Lan, Cantonese and kept peeking around the corner of my seat.

Since there were like 12 people on our entire plane {maybe I'm exaggerating, there might have been 18} it felt like everyone knew what I was doing.  On every other flight I just faded into the background in a sea of other passengers.  Not this time.

But we made it. 

Fellow passengers might have gotten a little more than they bargained for on their American tour and I'm pretty sure our one and only male flight attendant - yes, we only had one!  I told you it was a small plane! - was sweating not because the air wasn't working properly but because I made him totally uncomfortable but Madeline fell asleep under the cover and we didn't hear a peep from her until we were safely back on the ground.

So there you have it.  Snakes on a plane?  Easy.  Boobs on a plane?  Definitely the more logistically complicated situation.