It’s Tuesday night. I haven’t done Self Portrait Tuesday in a while, and I feel kinda bad.

To be totally honest, I just haven’t kept up with my blogging and pictures and reading of others’ blogs lately. We’ve been going all over the place. However right now the Monsieur is struggling with a rogue dishwasher we just bought for Rev. Mommy. Herr Meow thinks the whole scene is quite funny and he’s gurgling, gooing and gyoooing along, in tune with his daddy’s colorful language.

I am finding it a little hard to believe that we’ll be starting a new life in a new timezone before March is over.

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Today is Pi day– 3.14. I feel rather incomplete as I did not bake nor did I even plan to bake. Last year I baked a chicken pot pie and an apple pie. My life felt complete. Of course, my life was on its way to becoming complicated around this time of year –because I’m pretty sure Herr Meow packed his bags to come join us sometime around yesterday, last year– and the most complicated thing ahead of me was to figure out whether Fuji apples make better pies, or if I agree with the general consensus that the Red delicious is the queen of the pie. Is it better to have tart and juicy or sweet and dry? I will not know for some time, seriously. I personally love the smell of a crisp Fuji.

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Why bake a pie –or two– you say? Hello! Pi day! It’s like…. mandatory.

If you’re a total retardo-nerd, of course.

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Breastfeeding is suddenly the most natural thing in the world. About as natural as changing your underwear kind of natural. Of course, I’d like to emphasize that changing one’s underwear is NOT natural by nature –it’s natural to poo oneself, like a certain cutie patootie I know– but so you get my meaning. It’s not natural, but it BECOMES natural. I never really thought this day would come, but it is here. Come and gone and come again? I actually ENJOY it. I like seeing him nurse. I like knowing that the fact that he is so heavy that hefting him gives me my daily workout is solely the work of my boobies. It’s…..

…. well, it’s a source of pride like few know. It’s totally cliché… I know. It’s totally cliché and ridiculously funny that me, little ol’ noncomittal, so-not-the-activist MOI is so gung-ho about the whole thing. It’s ridiculous that I think about it so much (maybe because I do it so much?)

I have to jot some things down now:

1. If you’re just starting to breastfeed and you’re freaking out and you’re reading stuff about how your nipples aren’t supposed to be deformed but yours are and you have NO IDEA what the hell you’re doing, I say:

HANG THE HELL IN THERE!!!

Your rookieness is deforming those puppies, but that won’t be the case forever. They will hurt because neither you nor baby has the hang of it. YES you have latch problems. YES you need a lactation consultant. But most importantly, you need to know that it is your RESPONSIBILITY and your ONUS to make sure you figure shit out, sista! And YES you won’t always love it. Breastfeeding is not about loving IT. It’s about LOVING HIM OR HER. The BABY, you selfish cow!!!! It’s not about you anymore!

NOW GO OUT THERE AND DO US WOMEN PROUD!!!!!!

2. Having a nice husband helps. You have no idea.

3. Please. If for some tragic reason you were not able to breastfeed, skip those entries. I do not mean you.

4. *Someone* is totally cute– he’s starting to scoot A LOT and almost flip over. His forays into language are totally adorable too –he’s quite the talker, especially in his changing table. He’s all grabby grabby hands: hair, blankies, and some foodstuffs are no longer safe.

5. I think you’re a moron AND insane if you’re feeding your child solids and cereal before 6 months. There. I said it.
Why a moron? Because it’s just not very smart to refuse to follow the recommendations of people who’ve spent seven-plus years of their lives studying babies.
Why insane? Because you must have some major disconnect from reality to not see that your actions could cause your baby harm in the near AND distant future and moreover feel like others should validate your reckless decision.
Unless OF COURSE your pediatrician recommended it because your baby needs it or is super sick, bla bla. You get my meaning. Otherwise, you are so not off the hook. Not with me, sister. With yourself and your OWN DAMNED CONSCIENCE.

6. I’m nervous.

7. “You’re the mommy and you know what’s best for your baby” is not your free pass out of jail, okay??
Seriously!

Are you trying to tell me that if you want to give your child… oh…. alcohol, or say… gelatin water…. before the child is ready to digest it, then you SHOULD because being a mommy gave you an honorary MD title?! Are you saying that because you’re the mommy that your child should ride on your lap while you flee the paparazzi?

Yes. That worked wonders for Britney, didn’t it?

14 Mar This entry was published on March 14, 2006 at 9:39 pm and is filed under Domestic Bliss. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.