Stopping By Boobs

Back to the Boobs

Okay, okay, okay. I know I'm still talking about my boobs. I can't help it. When you spend hours of your day breastfeeding, it's really hard not to constantly think about them. Since yesterday's hub on my hubpage, I can't stop thinking about the first stanza of Robert Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening poem: Whose woods these are I think I know / His house is in the village though; / He will not see me stopping here / To watch his woods fill up with snow. The only problem is that I keep thinking (okay really repeating over and over and over in my head) Whose boobs these are I think I know. I even came up with a little ditty (not about Jack and Diane - who are apparently getting divorced :( ) hoping that it would cure me of my little problem. It's like when you get a really bad song stuck in your head and can't get it out. Pathetic - I know! Anyway, here it is:
Whose boobs these are I think I know (not mine)
He was birthed four months ago
I will see him stopping here
To watch my boobs fill up with milk.
The good news is that I don't have the poem stuck in my head anymore. Unfortunately, now I'm singing Two American kids growing up in the Heartland. Did I mention sleep deprivation? I'll save that for another post.