My favorite NYC neighborhood

An amusing article on a topic that I thought had been beaten to death. (And that I sometimes beat to death.) This part struck me:

One woman had her shirt completely unbuttoned, her pretty pink, lacey maternity bra on display. Another had one breast lopped over the top of her tank top. The third had twins. She wasn’t wearing a shirt — or a bra for that matter — just a hoodie sweatshirt unzipped with a baby at each breast. She walked around the restaurant with them in her arms, her body swaying in a comforting dance.

If only I was a 14-year-old boy! I admired their lack of self-consciousness but had to admit I was uncomfortable — it was as if I had landed in a private living room, and it felt as if I were privy to their intimacy unbeknownst to them.

But open and comfortable breast-feeding is quintessential daytime Park Slope. Moms are just as relaxed nursing at the local pizza parlor as they are in each other’s homes.

I have absolutely no problem with public breast-feeding. I do have a problem with people who treat public places as their own living rooms -- whether it's kids or cell phones they're wielding. (And I've definitely railed against both at times.)

Another great bit:

A couple of weeks later, I was crossing the street. I had pulled my stroller up next to a mother who was carrying her child on her shoulders.

She said to her little girl in a singsong voice, “Look at the beautiful baby,” which her daughter echoed back to her as if they were singing a duet. I puffed up with pride while I crossed the street before the light changed — there were no cars coming.

Then the lady sang in a louder voice — to make sure I really heard her — “Look at the jaywalking mommy,” which her daughter also aped back.

I hated that my neighborhood was living up to its cliché of being chock-full of “annoying parenting types.”

Mommie fight! Bring on the Mommie Fight!