Monkey Nipples

My husband is incredibly thoughtful, generous and mellow. I am a basket case.

Last week, I emailed him a link to a $300 Medela breast pump with a note from me that read, "HOW IN THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO AFFORD ALL THIS SHIT? We must sell one of the older children. Shall we eenie meenie miney mo?"

Last night, when I got home, there was the breast pump sitting on the coffee table. He got a huge discount on it and wanted to surprise me. He does that stuff all the time. I'm the woman who bought him a can of Slim Jims and a card for Valentine's day. You can see why he married me, right?

So, I was excited and pulled all the parts out of the box. He got a great deal on it because it didn't come with a book of instructions, but it's a breast pump...how hard can it be, right?

Thirty minutes later, we are surrounded by tubes and bottles and a motor and funnel-shaped shit and I was just ready to give up and feed the baby macaroni & cheese.

"Wait, I think I got it!" Chris exclaimed. He proudly help up the assembled pump and I gave him a biscuit and rubbed his belly.

Now, in addition to being a genuinely sweet and caring man, my husband is also shameless when it comes to his curiosity. As I sat wide eyed, he lifted his shirt to fit one of the suction cups over his nipple.

"I just want to see," he explained.

I sat back to watch the fun. I knew he had no idea what he was in for when he dialed the setting up to 'maximum' and turned the pump on.

The look on his face, the high-pitched squeal and the sight of his tiny male nipple elongating like Pinocchio's nose through the plastic shell was more than enough to make me piddle in my pants. I haven't laughed that hard in years, seriously.

"Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!!"

After he managed to extract his boob, he looked at me in horror.

"Do babies really suck that hard?"

"Youda....can'tsa.....nipple....AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Shut up."

After I collected myself, we tried to attach the second pump. I held it up to my hand and Chris turned it on.

"Chris, this one isn't working."

"Sure it is."

"No, it's not. Look. I'm getting no suction on my hand."

So, because I'm a moron, I lifted up my shirt, exposed my sore, tender nipple and attached the pump.

Remember, up there, when Chris was squealing and writhing and turning purple while screaming for me to get it off while I laughed like an asshole? Yeah.

And we're raising children, people.