A Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm!

I Feel Busy (Not So Sure About Witty or Light)

The problem with technology is that it cannot read your body language and pick up on your avoidance clues.  It just sits there, patiently humming and standing by and, before you know it, you have ONE THOUSAND pieces to read in your Google Reader.  

One thousand things calling my attention:  things that at some point in time I have deemed precious and worthwhile enough to add to my reader, so I can keep up with them. 

One thousand plus things still waiting for my attention, only it seems they are the thousand closest to the bottom of the totem pole.

This is a new feeling for me: the feeling of having things to do and feeling like I may not have enough time to do them as much or as well as I would like.  It all started with baby number two; and then with Monsieur Meow traveling more and more; then picking up my local writing project; now I'm taking a photography class; and trying to run (ha!); and attempting to introduce some yoga routine into my life as well.  Suddenly life has taken on that old but familiar urgency of long-ago-- the weird, adrenalin-fueled stabs at making more things work in the same amount of time.

"I am a Type B!" I want to tell my life.  "We're supposed to be laid back!"

She laughs and points out that I always seem to have time for Facebook. 

(But it's Facebook!  EVERYONE has time for Facebook-- it's like a God-given right.)

Today the day and night balance each other perfectly, on their way to wintry short days and lack of light.  Seems fitting to want to make changes in this season that does just that.

Thank you to all who have commented since my last entry: I appreciate you greatly, and hope to be replying to you in some form or another in the near future.

Head, Shoulders, Boobs and Milk

If you are going to go see "Bodies: The Exhibition" and you're planning on taking

a. pictures
b. small children
c. your time,

there are some things I feel I should say to you.

1. Pictures are not allowed.
2. Strollers and large bags aren't allowed either, so make sure you are able and willing to carry your child and keep him or her entertained as you walk through the exhibit.
3. Please do take your time, but be advised that this show attracts a high number of poseurs who go to it because it's the thing to do and not so much to appreciate the beauty and mystery of the human body.  I don't think that is necessarily bad--Lord knows that things stay afloat from word-of-mouth and coolness factor-- but I do think that if seeing lots of cadavers in an impressive array that looks like a 3-D version of Gray's Anatomy is not your thing, you shouldn't pay a whole bunch of money just to be disappointed.

But if biology is your thing (it is mine) then it's worth every penny because it's simply amazing.  From the beautiful lattices of veins and arteries to the more graphic segments of pelvis and intestines and the diseased lungs and liver, the whole exhibit was a big thumping valentine to the wonder that is the human body. 

I find it amazing that dead bodies can teach us so much about living ones, and about the seeming fragility of our own bodies, as theirs lie flayed and dissected and still look strong and somehow imbued with a kind of life.

Incidentally,when we went to see the exhibit, some lucky people were treated to two displays of boobs (okay, well one big one and then just a boob sliver) at the same time because Herr Meow got very restless around the time we passed the female body exhibit.  To tell the truth, he was restless the whole time, but he was sent over the top in that area.  And do you know what?  I didn't get one nasty or shocked stare from anyone!  Everyone seeing the corpses on display thought it was the most natural thing, to see a year-and-a-half-old baby going to town on his mommy's chest. 

Then again, there were corpses on display.

_________

Nobody likes a zealot.
I guarantee some of you may not like me for what I'm about to write. 

I've done much reading, hand-wringing, dirty-staring and envying because I have been a very
staunch breastmilk supporter from the very start of my breast-feeding relationship (which had a pretty rocky start).  It has upset me that mothers who've chosen to formula feed seem to have it so much easier than us breastfeeders (as far as being socially accepted, knowing how much food the baby is eating, and ease of settling into a "routine" if you will), and how popular culture seems to underwrite the notion that it is not just that formula is pretty much the same as breastmilk, but that somehow sticking a breast in a baby's mouth is somehow perverted or disgusting-- not to mention unsanitary and downright weird.

In my own little one-woman player-hater routine, I would sometimes give dirty looks to random women rejoicing over formula on sale at Target.  I remember seeing a gaggle of besuited women at a grocery store, lovingly pointing to which formula they'd left for their children at daycare, and feeling a roiling mixture of exasperation and fire, and wishing I were a dragon so I could go spit at them.  Especially when Herr Meow started teething and sleep started becoming more checkered, I longed for being able to do what formula feeders can do: dropping off the child/children without so much as a second thought at grandmother's house for a whole weekend and then turn around and go home and sleep an uninterrupted night's sleep.  That thought ate at my insides: why, if I chose the path that is supposed to be the better one for my child, am I being punished for it?  Why can't I sleep and why must I be glued to this baby all day and all night?

But then it hit me very simply, and not too long ago.

I made a choice: a choice that has emboldened me at times to be oh-so-very-much-holier-than-thou, even.

I made a choice that is my own and to which no one forced me or cajoled me or threatened me, unlike the way I secretly wish I could force or cajole or even threaten women who'd made a different choice from mine.

And it is a choice that, even if supported by medical research, is not necessarily the choice that fits best with everyone-- and really, there are cases where I cannot imagine how breastfeeding could have ever been established, or kept up.

I chose to breastfeed my baby.  Other women didn't, and theirs are not my children.  And that is all there is to it.

It's a weird thing, to realize that you have no control over anyone's life but your own. But it is an even weirder and more humbling thing to realize that you only have a tenuous amount of control --if any at all-- over your own life, and that it only takes a slight change in circumstances to make things radically different.

And it only takes a well-positioned mirror for you to see things from the other side.

Reminiscing About Stuff (And TMI)

Almost the end of February, and there is a little bit of a tingle in the air. 
Yesterday's snow was absolutely beautiful and it has melted very quickly; it has been a good houseguest of sorts.  It is nothing like that long, plodding snow of last week that froze into a thick icy mess and made the simple act of walking a treacherous and awkward endeavor.

I'm in a contemplative mood today.  It's been a year since we've been gone from Hawaii, and two years since I've had... er... uh.... oh, I'll come right out with it: it's been two years since I've had my euphemism.

Oh, you know.  The monthly bill?  Aunt Flo hasn't come into town?  I haven't surfed the red wave?  I haven't been back in the saddle or had any ketchup with my steak?  I haven't partied like Carrie?  Haven't come down with my Code Red?  I haven't had DefConRed?  I haven't bought vampires or answered the call of the Red General at the door? 

YOU KNOW!

And I don't miss it.  Not even a little bit. 
Or... maybe just a little bit.
Maybe.

________

There is something very "limbo" about these two little milestones in my mind.
For one, I never really thought I would feel so uncomfortable in Hawaii as I did, which is kind of a pity.  But now that we've been gone, it's been nice to think of some of the things we used to love to do and (especially) eat in Honolulu.  The way the breeze would hit you this time of year, very sweetly and fragrantly, was always especially nice-- but two weeks later it would start to swelter.  The Trade Winds were particularly lovely-- not so with the dreaded Kona winds.

And of course, little Herr Meow wouldn't be who he is today if he hadn't decided to pop up and say hello while we were living in the islands and that makes that place that much more special.

Overall, from this distance and from the confines of my wool sweater, I can be happy I was there and I can revel in my memories while I create new ones in this new snowy realm.

_______

As for the "monthly miracle"... all I can say is this:
1. Thank goodness for breastfeeding!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2. Thank goodness for the mini pill
and
3. Woo-hoo!!!

(And... 4. Has it really been two whole years since I was pregnant?  Holy crap.  Time sure flies when you're sleep-deprived.)

Exile in Boobville

Yesterday Herr Meow had his 9-month checkup. Everything is fine with the lad: except for an uncooperative baby scale --felled by a low battery-- he was measured without incident and then the doctor hailed him a healthy, good baby.

"Keep doing what you're doing," he exhorted.

If only I really knew what it is that I'm doing that makes my child healthy and others not so. I don't think you can really chalk that one up other than to luck and first-world soaps.

_____

The thing that was funny about yesterday's checkup was this:

It was early in the morning (about 7:30 am) and Meowie did not get a proper breakfast. So, discreet as I always try to be --and trust me, I have seen indiscreet nursing mothers-- I put Meowie to the breast and we sat there, watching early-morning CNN. Woo.

Being kind of a neurotic person, and knowing that people like Baba Wawa hate us and think we're discomfiting and find the whole nursing bit disgusting, I try to be extra careful to not show any areolar tissue or make it look like softcore. Most people would say that I was just cradling the baby, and those who were looking too hard were probably pervy. I realize that Herr Meow probably even looks too big to nurse to some people, since the rate for exclusive breastfeeding in the US in 2003 was at a measly and truly pathetic 14.2%.

One of the nurses who was calling patients up made a beeline for me and the baby and with a very sweet smile asked, "Oh! Would you like to go to our lactation room?"

Now mind you, I've been feeding the kid for over 10 minutes here so we're almost done. I honestly didn't see any revulsed faces around me or any snickering or pointing; however, the nurse insisted:

"You know, it's really nice and private. I'm sure you'll love it!"

So since she asked so nicely, away I went. And while it was a nice little room and even cozily decorated, I felt like I'd lost a battle of some sort. Yes, the room was there, and nice, and warm; but why do we feel it needs to be there?

Are we really such a prudish and lazy nation that we cannot stand seeing a utilitarian breast? Not even in a medical facility, of all places? I know I've been embarrassed to nurse, so I know why the room is there: trust me, nursing in the middle of a super-crowded DC DMV (with no cozy little nursing room nor anything closely resembling it) was NO picnic and I found it embarrasing since the chairs were pointed in this weird setup where one half of the room could see the other half of the room.

But the fact is that this nation is still ruled by the bottle and the milestones associated with it and with formula; the formula companies are even telling us how and why to breastfeed! We don't provide enough support to breastfeeding women-- no pumping facilities at work or longer paid maternity leave, or government subsidies for electric breast pumps.

So my bit of exile is nothing but more of the same: I'm still in the minority, and the boobs are still strictly for the pleasure business. And I should probably shut up about it already because most people aren't interested-- after all, 14% is statistically closer to zero than to 50%.

The Boobs Have It!

Happy World Breastfeeding Week!

World Breastfeeding Week starts today, August 1st, and runs through the 7th. Breastfeeding seems to be perceived as this crunchy, inconvenient thing that is a little weird to most people. However, the long term benefits of doing it and doing it for as long as you can are well documented. Breastfeeding promotes mom-baby attachment; it lowers obesity rates for baby and helps mom lose weight in a slower but more long-lasting way; it boosts immunity in baby and mom; and IT FEELS GOOD once you get past it feeling really not very good at all.

Please, please, please PLEASE!!!! If you're pregnant, consider breastfeeding!

If you're already breastfeeding, keep doing it! If you've already gone past the grueling two-month mark, you're already a PRO! Keep going!!

If you are going back to work, ask your insurance carrier for coverage of pumps-- many will pay but it's a little-known fact.

If your place of work is not supportive, try to get them to work with you. After all, if they are not accomodating of a breastfeeding woman but somehow they can accomodate employees' smoking breaks that is called DISCRIMINATION and there are laws that can protect you.

If you think breastfeeding is gross or unsanitary or strange, you are not alone. I strongly recommend going to a wonderful site like kellymom.com or even the La Leche League site and reading up. If you have a friend who breastfeeds, talk to her and be openminded, please.

Do it for your baby, and do it for yourself! Get educated and BREASTFEED!!!