Saturday, June 09, 2007


Having read a blog or two that contains line similar to or sugestive of " I jumped into my truck and drove around for a while...", I gather that in the States, a lot of trucks are being driven by the common man and/or woman.

People, this is a truck. What the hell are ya'll doing, parking one of those bitches in your driveway?


I bought some new gym gear recently and was feeling mighty fine until I copped en eyeful of my reflection and fuck if my hot shit new track pants don't give me a frikkin' camel toe. When I'm standing, their crotch sits around an inch, maybe two below my own (I'm wearing the stupid pants right now in the privacy of my own home and yes, actually I really did get out the tape measure to give you an accurate reading) and there's absolutely no clingage so technically speaking everything should be a-ok, but thanks to an ill placed seam, I look like Lil' Kim.


Daniel is still asleep so as I type this. He's slept two naps worth this afternoon, probably because he woke at dawn, the sole purpose for his conscious state being to sit on top of me and grab my nose. Good morning to you too, you little fucker. I guess those are the kind of reasons people prefer to sleep apart from their progeny but truth is, those are the kind of reasons why I like to.


For those of you who have been keeping notes, as of last week and at almost eighteen months old, Daniel is no longer breastfeeding. I never planned on having a prepubescent pawing at my boobs, but by the same token, I did want to be led by Daniel vis a vis the whole weaning deal. Side bar: anyone still feeding their far from infant child is guided by their own wants and NOT their child's needs. As babies grow into toddlers, breastfeeding is probably more about comfort and closeness than it is sustenance and nutrition, so in my opinion, given that they are provided with what they need nutritionally and emotionally, and given that they are allowed to develop their own strategies in a safe and nurturing environment, children can and will wean themselves before they turn eighteen. In the same way that babies learn how to walk and talk, so do they learn gain independence and to meet their own needs for soothing and comfort. I'm not advocating leaving them in the woods with a can opener, a pup tent and a box of matches and letting them work it out for themselves. I guess what I'm saying is that while they are itty bitty blobs of malleable brain matter, we as parents still need to be guided by our children as much as we need to guide them. It's symbiotic. We need to take note of who they are and where they're at and use that knowledge to guide us as we guide them.

Bla bla bla. The important thing here is that I rule because honestly? I'd prefer to keep breastfeeding. It'd be easy to convince Daniel to keep up with my mothering timetable because he is, after all, still podlike and blobby in so many ways. Anyone thinking that my desire to keep breastfeeding dealio is indicative of my want to hang on to my baby, no shit, Sherlock. Ya think? Which is the exact reason why I do SO awesomely rule.

He's not getting his hair cut though.


Speaking of breastfeeding, sucky parenting skilz, and my judgmental self, I have this friend, Elle. Her daughter, Tee, is twenty one months old and is still mostly breastfed. She's also a sickly child who never smiles. Back in the day, Tee was the baby you wanted your five month younger baby to grow up to be. She smiled all the time and was so connected with the world. Her eyes were bright and she took everything in. I remember her clapping her hands with joy as she laughed out loud. She was excited and engaged, and she was a joy to be with. Somewhere along the way though, Tee stopped smiling, and along that way I started thinking the things that I'd noticed were things I'd never do to a child. Things like, I don't think it's right to nurse your kid because whatever boo boo they've encountered, whatever frustration they're feeling, is so bad that they need their mother's breast to soothe them. No matter what happened, no matter how trivial it was, Elle would scoop Tee up and convince her that everything was okay, mummy was here and so was her boob. I don't think that kind of comfort teaches a child to trust, I think it teaches a child that the world is a fearful place and that the only way to find comfort is at your mother's breast. Am I right or am I right? I'm right, aren't I? So anyway, Tee is clingy and needy and refuses to eat anything, and her mother complies. Tee is always sick, be it gastroenteritis (you dudes call it stomach flu, I think) or a cold or an ear infection, she's always got something wrong. Now, I try not to be bossy or to solve other's problems based on what I think they need to know because to each his own and etc, so in the course of general conversation, all I've done is mention that it was having one cold after another for three months that caused Daniel to be iron deficient last year, and that it was being iron deficient that led him to catch one cold after another and hey! Did Elle think it might be worthwhile to get Tee's bloods done to check for the same thing? What I didn't say was, especially since Tee won't eat anything because you breastfeed her All. The. Time. Elle's story is that Tee won't eat and that's why she breastfeeds her but chicken or egg, man. Jaysus. Elle thinks that she has s difficult child and that her life is hard, whereas I think she's the goddamn parent and that she should quit taking the easy way out.

None of this is my business, but then again, isn't every child's welfare our business? I'm conflicted because I really don't want to be a "you need to do this this and this" type of person, but at what point doesn it become negligent to not grab your friend by the shoulders and tell her to wake up to her damn self, to get her damn child to the paediatricians, to buy a dan clue because somethings not right here?

In my world it all follows a logical sequence that I probably can't explain: Tee's regular, every day, baby world problems and frustrations have only ever been solved by her mother proffering a well utilised breast. Baby world problems and frustrations encourage problem solving and personal growth. Tee's never had the opportunity to learn to meet challenges like reaching the damn ball or taking the stupid rattle that's kind of stuck in her own baby sized mouth so has become a fearful child who only knows how to nurse to soothe her worried self. Elle encourages this so Tee doesn't have a nurturing environment that encourages personal growth, and because she nurses so much she's always full of breastmilk so refuses all other food, and Elle encourages this too. Because of this, Tee is low on essential nutrients so succumbs to whatever germ of bug passes by, and because of this, is low on essential nutrients and feels poorly so wants to be soothed and doesn't know how to be soothed apart from at the breast so is full and so doesn't want to eat anything else so is low on other nutrietns and so and so and so.

I'm not saying all her problems are based on breastfeeding, but that the constant breastfeeding is reflective of the culture she's being raised in.

It's not my place and it's not my problem, but doesn't it take a village to raise a child? Or something?


For those of you taking even more obscure and freakily intimate notes on my amazingly interesting life, I only missed one period during the whole Two Operations In Three Weeks And Just How Much More Weight Can I Lose In A Short Space Of Time? saga. One! So not only do I rule, my ovaries do too. Check your notes. You'll find that in the past, it took a mere breath of air from a butterfly's wings to throw my womanly cycle from its precarious course and into the Chasm Of Where The Fuck Is It? and here I am, ovulating all over the place and being all, like, normal and shit.

So yes, I got my period last Tuesday and sixteen days before that, I turned down sex with a kersquillionaire lawyer. Add one, carry the two and yessiree, I could have been pregnant with the second child I so, so, so, desire.

And that is another story for another day. Or two stories for two other days. The lawyer one and the want more children one. Three. Four stories even, if you want the stories about what I'm going to do about story one and story two.

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