Hello Dear Readers!
I'm feeling terribly clever at the moment. I noticed a spot of Something Suspicious in one of the more complicated, labyrinthine parts of my PJ's Comfort just now, at work. Couldn't get it all the way out with a straightened paperclip, even under hot running water. So I just nuked it in a mug of water for a couple minutes. Whatever it is, now it's sterile!
Also, I must share that Jackie is really adorable searching for a boob in bed with her eyes closed and her tongue out. "aaaaahhh?"
Lastly, I want to express how frustrated, frightened, and angry I feel watching our legislators, supposedly educated men, trivialize and misunderstand rape and resultant pregnancies. Lots of folks rightly point out that when our legislative body is overwhelmingly composed of one sub-set of the population (crusty old white guys), you get skewed policy. I want for my daughter a world where a bunch of crusty old white guys would still understand how human reproduction works and that rape is rape is rape, is horrible, is much too common, and is not the victim's fault or responsibility. Ever. Why aren't we there yet? Totally unacceptible.
Much love,
Suzi
PS - this post is another great example of the constantly conflicting impulses in my brain, like the previous post points out, leading to the crazy. Or at least the stressed and anxious.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
World Breastfeeding Week, and Why I Am Crazy
Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!
I hope you had a lovely World Breastfeeding Week. I celebrated by attending the Big Latch On with nursling Jackie and two of my favorite boobjuicers. But here we are back in the work week, and love my job though I do, I'm in a bit of a funk today. Part of it is a sort of "Oh my gosh my husband turned forty, does that mean *I* am close to forty?" (yes, it does) existential angst that hit me in April when my husband turned (you guessed it) forty. (He is as handsome as ever, that stinker, while I have developed a very expensive hair dye habit.) My brain keeps trying to figure out how I can do the CFP program, become an IBCLC, write two books, start a rock band, open a mama/baby boutique and class space, become a Portland-style bicycling badass, and study Aikido all at once. There may be a bit of a hitch with this plan.
But this morning as it came time to get the PJ working again, it hit me. The trouble with breastfeeding is you can't take a day off. I mean, sure, you could. If you want the kid to go hungry, or you want to pump all day instead (yuk), or you want to wean in the most abrupt way possible. So yeah, you essentially can't take a day off. How many jobs can you never take a day off? Even motherhood you can get a break from, maybe not literally in that you are still a mom, but you can hand the kids to your partner/sister/parents/babysitter and go hide at a day spa or even just a coffee shop for a day. But not when you're nursing.
You all know I love nursing my little Jackie, and loved nursing Robert, and cried when he declared he was done. You have probably noticed or guessed that I'm all conflicted that after Jackie we are most likely done and thus when she says no more I am done breastfeeding. So of course, like everything else in motherhood, wanting a day off of nursing is wrought with conflicting emotions. I'm tired. I am sick of pumping three times a day. I'm sure my husband is tired of all the rigmarole of making bottles and prepping donor milk and washing pump parts. But I love nursing Jackie, and I don't want to stop any time soon. It's so cuddly, and it's a bond like no other between two humans that I have known, and she's so cute and sweet, and I love all the good it does both of our bodies.
This is why the mamas are all crazy. Think about it - everyone thinks their mom is crazy. Or most everyone, it seems. Well, maybe she is. Maybe she has spent decades having her brain pulled in opposite directions. "Yes, thank you, I need a break. Wait, I miss him!" "Oh, I'm so proud of you - wait! You're growing up so fast!" "Oh thank god, no more diapers - AAAaa! I'm all out of babies!" Of course she's crazy. You would be too.
Maybe now that I've gotten that written out, I'll be able to concentrate. Chuckle. Yeah, right.
Much love,
Suzi
I hope you had a lovely World Breastfeeding Week. I celebrated by attending the Big Latch On with nursling Jackie and two of my favorite boobjuicers. But here we are back in the work week, and love my job though I do, I'm in a bit of a funk today. Part of it is a sort of "Oh my gosh my husband turned forty, does that mean *I* am close to forty?" (yes, it does) existential angst that hit me in April when my husband turned (you guessed it) forty. (He is as handsome as ever, that stinker, while I have developed a very expensive hair dye habit.) My brain keeps trying to figure out how I can do the CFP program, become an IBCLC, write two books, start a rock band, open a mama/baby boutique and class space, become a Portland-style bicycling badass, and study Aikido all at once. There may be a bit of a hitch with this plan.
But this morning as it came time to get the PJ working again, it hit me. The trouble with breastfeeding is you can't take a day off. I mean, sure, you could. If you want the kid to go hungry, or you want to pump all day instead (yuk), or you want to wean in the most abrupt way possible. So yeah, you essentially can't take a day off. How many jobs can you never take a day off? Even motherhood you can get a break from, maybe not literally in that you are still a mom, but you can hand the kids to your partner/sister/parents/babysitter and go hide at a day spa or even just a coffee shop for a day. But not when you're nursing.
You all know I love nursing my little Jackie, and loved nursing Robert, and cried when he declared he was done. You have probably noticed or guessed that I'm all conflicted that after Jackie we are most likely done and thus when she says no more I am done breastfeeding. So of course, like everything else in motherhood, wanting a day off of nursing is wrought with conflicting emotions. I'm tired. I am sick of pumping three times a day. I'm sure my husband is tired of all the rigmarole of making bottles and prepping donor milk and washing pump parts. But I love nursing Jackie, and I don't want to stop any time soon. It's so cuddly, and it's a bond like no other between two humans that I have known, and she's so cute and sweet, and I love all the good it does both of our bodies.
This is why the mamas are all crazy. Think about it - everyone thinks their mom is crazy. Or most everyone, it seems. Well, maybe she is. Maybe she has spent decades having her brain pulled in opposite directions. "Yes, thank you, I need a break. Wait, I miss him!" "Oh, I'm so proud of you - wait! You're growing up so fast!" "Oh thank god, no more diapers - AAAaa! I'm all out of babies!" Of course she's crazy. You would be too.
Maybe now that I've gotten that written out, I'll be able to concentrate. Chuckle. Yeah, right.
Much love,
Suzi
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