Nursing Your Kids

On a whim I signed up for NaBloPoMo, National Blog Writing Month, again. I don’t know what I was thinking. I barely have time to post to each of my blogs once a week, so committing to post once a month is going to be tough. But I’m going for it. Maybe it will help me get over some of the writer’s block I’ve been feeling lately.

This is a breastfeeding blog and I’m so consumed with actually breastfeeding that it seems silly to write about it. I’m at this point where I just don’t know what’s interesting any more. I used to be a decent storyteller, but lately I feel like I’ve got nothing to say. As interesting as they are to me, I’m sure everyone else is sick to death of reading about my kids all of the time, and I just don’t have the time to write a well constructed, intelligent and thoughtful piece about something topical. And right now, breastfeeding-wise there’s just not all that much that’s topical. Do you really care that Brad’s parents are offended by the pictures of Angelina breastfeeding on the cover of W? I don’t. I didn’t even care all that much when I wrote about it the first time.

I hope you’ll bear with me if I end up posting entirely too many memes and lists to get me through the month. I may resort to cross posting items on my (also woefully neglected) food blog. I’ll do my best to keep it interesting but I can’t make any promises. Wish me luck.

A good friend wants Bob’s help building a wall in his house on Sunday. The problem is that Saturday is Bob’s big fishing trip which means that I’ll have seven days straight of full time parenting without a break. The following weekend Bob can’t help him out because he’s going on a trip to the mountains. And the following weekend is, well, two weekends away and I don’t think our friend wants to wait that long.

So I feel like a jerk because I don’t want him to help. But I don’t want him to help because an hour in the afternoon when Bob gets home, after he’s had time to decompress and before I have to make dinner and feed Sam, isn’t much of a break. I’m totally exhausted all of the time, Sam’s still got some stomach thing going on which is making him fussier and more demanding than usual and interrupting his sleep and mine, and I’m pregnant. I sort of remember the second trimester being easier than the first last time, but the second trimester with a toddler isn’t any easier. I still have morning sickness, I can’t get comfortable, and I wake up coughing four or five times a night because my pregnancy safe asthma medication is totally ineffective compared to the stuff that possibly causes birth defects.

Naps still aren’t regular and involve me driving for an hour, stopping the car every so often to retrieve sippy cups and help put “sock on, sock on.” The idea of seven days straight without a good chunk of time to myself makes me want to cry.

If this next baby’s not a sleeper I’m selling them both on the black market.

Bryan’s baby is due any time now. Be sure to check in.

Last night wasn’t nearly as bad as I anticipated. He didn’t go to sleep until after 10, but he slept until 6 before waking up screaming. Whatever stomach issue he had seems to be mostly resolved. But I’m still tired so I’m stealing another meme from Ladybug’s Picnic.

I give you money and send you into the grocery store to pick up 5 items. You can only pick one thing from the following departments.. what is it?

1. Produce: from the supermarket? I haven’t gotten produce from the supermarket in a long time. Ummm. Apples are still in season.
2. Bakery: A loaf of Le Bus multi-grain bread
3. Meat: not from the supermarket.
4. Frozen: I’m in the mood for Ben and Jerry’s mint chocolate cookie ice cream
5. Dairy: Cabot seriously sharp cheddar

Let’s say we’re heading out for a weekend getaway. You’re only allowed to bring 3 articles of clothing with you. So, what’s in your bag?

I’m assuming that this is in addition to what I’m wearing, so for fall I’d bring

1. long-sleeved t-shirt
2. black cashmere turtleneck sweater
3. clean underwear

If I was to listen in on your conversations throughout the day, what 5 phrases or words would I be most likely to hear?

1. Not safe
2. Who loves Sammy?
3. Give mama a kiss
4. What time is it? Diaper Time
5. Stupid cat

So, what 3 things do you find yourself doing every single day, and if you didn’t get to do, you probably wouldn’t be in the best mood?

1. cuddle with Sam
2. read something- blogs, books, magazines, whatever
3. put toys away at night. I don’t like it, but if they don’t get put away I get irritated when I see them the next morning

We’re talking a 3 hour block with nobody around. What 5 activities might we find you doing?

1. Writing/reading blogs
2. watching TV online (we got rid of cable)
3. Cooking something
4. Grooming
5. Water aerobics. I’m all about it these days.

We are going to the zoo. But, it looks like it could start storming, so it’ll have to be a quick visit. What 3 exhibits do we have to get to?

1. Primate house
2. Rare animals
3. Giant River Otters- my favorites

You just scored tickets to the taping of any show that comes on t.v. of your choice. You can pick between 4, so what are you deciding between?

1. The Daily Show
2. The Colbert Report
3. America’s Test Kitchen
4. Iron Chef

You’re hungry for ice cream. I’ll give you a triple dipper ice cream cone. What 3 flavors can I pile on for ya?

1. butter pecan
2. coconut almond fudge
3. Mexican chocolate

Somebody stole your purse/wallet…in order to get it back, you have to name 5 things you know are inside to claim it. So, what’s in there?

I’ve still got a diaper bag

1. Diapees/Wipees animal print case with size 5 diapers
2. huge package of baby wipes
3. key chain with a ridiculous number of store cards on it
4. Camelbak water bottle
5. overstuffed wallet

You are at a job fair, and asked what areas you are interested in pursuing a career in. Let’s pretend you have every talent and ability to be whatever you wanted, so what 4 careers would be fun for you?

1. Food designer
2. yoga instructor
3. writer
4. something to do with film- I was a theater major in college and miss the fun

If you could go back and talk to the old you, when you were in high school, and inform yourself of 4 things, what would you say?

1. Dating a guy 10 years your senior is a terrible idea
2. Dreadlocks look ridiculous on teenage white girls
3. Smoking makes you smell bad
4. Your father would be thrilled if you lived with him. Don’t let your mother tell you otherwise.

Play along and leave me a comment if you do.

We had someone come to fix our heating system today. Well, try to anyway. It turns out our boiler is leaking which means we’ll probably have to spend close to ten thousand dollars to replace it.

The heating guy, who was very nice was here for more than six hours. He has three kids. The youngest is five months old and he said something about how he can’t wait until gets to sleep again. Apparently none of his kids were sleepers. His five year old sleeps now, but both his three year old and the infant sleep with him and his wife. That is terrifying. I’ve always heard the (wonderful) wives tale that if one kid isn’t a sleeper the next one will be. I hate to hear that’s not true. Sam is not a good sleeper.

Anyway, since the heat guy was here for more than six hours we never left the house. Aside from running back and forth throwing toys Sam never got much physical activity. A day without the playground almost always means a day without a nap. Sam not taking a nap means that Sam was a cranky, cranky boy who threw his dinner all over the floor. Twice.

He fought Bob while Bob tried to put him to sleep then fought me when I came in to give it a shot. I left him to cry by himself for 10 minutes then went in and nursed him to sleep after getting hit in the head. I hate when I end the day feeling stressed. Let’s hope he sleeps through the night.

In a completely unrelated thread on the message board, a mother used the phrase “breastfeeding natzi’s.” It certainly wasn’t the first time someone on the board used the phrase to describe lactivists, but after the “crazies” post I couldn’t let it slide. I didn’t respond in the thread, instead I started a new thread. Here’s what I wrote.

If you are going to refer to breastfeeding advocates as “natzi’s” as least have the courtesy to spell it correctly and omit the unnecessary apostrophe.

Sorry for the history reminder, but I think the word “nazi” to describe a breastfeeding advocate is totally off base. Maybe it’s because I’m Jewish, maybe it’s because I’m a breastfeeding advocate myself. I also hate the term feminazi to describe a woman who stands up for herself and other women and I don’t particularly care for the Soup Nazi episode of Seinfeld for the same reason.

Well, I guess one response is better than none so here’s the follow up to my message board situation. Many other people responded in between, but I’ll just post the conversation between me and the woman who used the word crazies. Her responses are in italics, mine are in bold.

Oh come on. I wasn’t saying anything mean. But I guess people can get offended by anything! I think people that tell others they are wrong and don’t know how they feel or where they are coming from are crazies (and that is me putting it nicely!), if that makes you mad…oh well. Nothing I can do about that. I’m really starting to get frustrated that women can get on here preaching to breastfeed and it’s ok, but as soon as I support someone by saying you don’t have to listen to them I’m suddenly offensive. I’ve never had problems like these on any other board, It’s so weird.

You said crazies. It doesn’t make me mad, it just doesn’t belong in this thread. Perhaps in the debate thread it could be appropriate, but even then you’re still calling people you disagree with names.

And for the record, I’m not preaching breastfeeding. I think it’s wonderful and that every mother should try it, but if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. If you don’t want to, you don’t want to. As long as you’re feeding your baby so that your baby is happy and healthy that’s all that matters. Does that make me a crazy?

I never said I didn’t say crazies, but I never referred to breastfeeding advocates. Like I’ve said a million times I was referring to people who think they know better than you and try to push their opinions off on you. I can honestly say I don’t know what you are so upset about? I wasn’t debating, merely supporting someone to not listen to someone if they are trying to make you feel your decisions are wrong. Would my statement have been ok if I called them sillies? It’s all the same! I didn’t call anybody any names. I never referred to anyone. I probably should have just let you be mad and not replied, but I felt like standing up for myself. This whole thing is crazy! Or silly! Or whatever doesn’t offend you.

At this point I stopped responding. I wasn’t at all emotionally invested in the topic, I just don’t like to hear people call lactivists crazy and thought I should explain why. I can find something offensive without being offended. Like Family Guy- I love that show, but it’s totally offensive in more ways than I can count and doesn’t offend me at all. I thought it was strange that the woman kept insisting I was mad, and that she had to explain herself a million times (I counted twice) when I don’t feel like I expressed anger. I don’t know why I keep going back. It’s a sickness.

When I was pregnant with Sam I joined a message board for expectant mothers and I’ve been annoyed ever since. While I’m sure some of the women on the message board are reasonable human beings they just don’t come across as reasonable online.

The argument that irritated me today came in a thread where a woman new to the board and expecting a second child asked for opinions concerning breastfeeding. She did not go into detail but she said she was unable to breastfeed her first child and despite her knowledge of the benefits was considering not even trying to breastfeed the second. She asked the women on the board for feedback.

Four or five posters told her she shouldn’t worry what other people thought and if she wanted to formula feed she should. Some of the women specified that they thought breastfeeding was best, but that it was her decision and no one else’s business. One woman said she was physically able to breastfeed but just didn’t want to. I wasn’t crazy about that response, but since she wasn’t looking for feedback I wasn’t going to give it.

Another poster wrote that she tried to nurse her son and couldn’t. She beat herself up over it until she realized he’s never had an ear infection. She then told the original poster not to listen to crazies who tell her she’s wrong for not breastfeeding.

I wanted to respond to the original poster, but couldn’t let that comment go. Here’s my response:

I think that the decision to breastfeed is a personal choice. Women choose not to breastfeed for many reasons, all of them valid. However, I think the use of the word “crazies” to describe breastfeeding advocates is offensive. While I know you specifically said “crazies who try to tell you you’re wrong,” in my experience the only ones who try to persuade someone to breastfeed are those who truly believe it’s the best thing possible. Does that make them crazy? Intrusive, sure. Rude, absolutely. But crazy?

Breast is best and it’s proven in study after study. I don’t believe that formula is harmful, nor do I believe that it’s any of my business how a mother chooses to feed her baby.

I plan on summarizing the rest of the thread tomorrow, but before I do I’d like to know if you think my comment makes me sound angry.

Last night was wretched. After spending forever trying to get him to sleep, Sam was up at 11.30, 4.00, then again at 5.15. I crawled into his bed (I am so glad we went with the twin size bed instead of a toddler bed because I really needed that sleep) and he slept until 7.30, a full hour and a half later than he’s been sleeping the past couple of weeks.

He’s got a bit of a cold so I decided to take him to the zoo this morning instead of the playground or playhouse. I figured he’d have plenty of room to run around, but fewer toys to stick in his mouth. He had a great time and got plenty of exercise running from animal to animal and climbing every staircase we passed. I packed a lunch so we ate that at 11.30 and shared an ice cream cone before heading back to the car by noon. After all of the running and excitement I thought he’d be ready for a nap. Then I remembered he slept in. After close to two hours of trying I gave up on a nap completely knowing that if he slept any later than 2.30 it would be impossible to get him to sleep.

He hung in for a while. His aunt and grandmom came for a visit and he adores them both. But by 5.30 he was falling apart. He threw a fit when Bob took his clothes off to put him into the bath then threw another fit when it was time to get out. Bob had to leave to chaperone an event for school so I was stuck putting him to bed on my own.

Sam wanted nothing to do with me. He wanted to read stories from our Curious George anthology but refused to let me finish any of them and slammed the book shut on my hand. Then he cried when I put it away. I tried to read Good Night Moon but it made him cry even harder so I turned off the light and tried to rock with him. After he punched me in the eye trying to wrestle away from me I asked if he just wanted to get in bed. He did. I put him in bed and sat beside him. He said, “nurse, nurse.” I asked him if he was sure and he started tugging on my shirt in reply. After about five minutes he was asleep- the first time in probably four months he’s nursed to sleep. Let’s just hope he stays asleep.

Knowing I planned on writing a post tonight my husband wrote this for me while I was in the shower. He was probably hoping it would make me feel amorous.

You ever have one of these nights? You really want the baby to go to bed so you can sit with your husband and catch up on back episodes of the Family Guy, but the baby just won’t go to sleep? It’s not one of those super unhappy knock down, drag out, screaming, crying, baby shaking his head, “No mama, no mama” every time you put him down. It’s more like the, happy, drowsy, mumbling I don’t want to go to sleep baby. Like tonight. I just want to watch the Family Guy with my husband who experienced a super crappy day at work. But, for an hour and a half, I rocked the baby and instead of drifting off to sleep, he remembered his day in soft baby words. He told me about the potty, “potty, poo, peepee, poo, peepee.” He recalled baby gymnastics this morning, “friends, Aidan, Halle, Lulu.” Then, lovingly recollected his trip to the playground with his father after work, “Dada, playground. Dada, carry. Dada. Dada. Dada.” And of course me, who loves him most of all, “Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama.”

It’s hard to get frustrated, almost makes you feel like a bad person when the baby talks super soft cuddly talk and you just want him to be asleep. Especially when he rubs his head in that place between your neck and shoulder, and strokes your cheek with his clumsy sleepy hands. Ever had one of those nights?

Sam hasn’t nursed for a full week. I don’t know if he’s done, or if it’s just one of his extended breaks. It feels strange though I don’t think I’d mind if this was the end. My mom’s here, so this is all I’ve got for a post tonight.

*this got stuck in my drafts, so I’m posting it a day late, but keeping the time stamp.

More in the news.

Here’s some bad news and a bad headline: Breastfeeding in Public: Nature or Nudity

Melanie Flores was told she couldn’t breastfeed her one year old son in a Pac Sun store at an Ohio mall. Ohio law says moms have the right to breastfeed. Flores is still waiting for an apology and is working on establishing a breastfeeding awareness foundation.

Two months after being kicked out of a Toledo mall store for breastfeeding, a Toledo mom still wants someone to say they’re sorry. The story we broke in September ignited debate and outrage and raises the question: nature or nudity?

You’d think the company would at least have the decency to apologize, especially since breastfeeding is legal in stores in Ohio.

And then there’s some good news.

When Manhattan City Councilwoman Jessica Lappin gave birth to her son Luke eight months ago, she found there was nowhere for her to pump breastmilk at work. She approached Council Speaker Christine Quinn about creating a lactation room. Quinn’s staff took it a step further and created a policy that ensured breast feeding employees can use break time to pump.

“All supervisors will get a briefing, if you will, from senior staff so they understand this isn’t just some extra privilege we’re giving these women,” said Quinn. “This is something we have to incorporate into the work day so these moms can be great moms and great public servants.”

The lactation room opened last Friday, not long after a bill passed in Albany that requires employers to allow women to pump milk. The room created in the council’s office building

“… has a hygienic refrigerator, a refrigerator that locks, a sink with running water, electricity, a door that locks and a curtain here for added privacy…”

Every workplace should have a room like this. Women who have to (or want to) return to work after the birth of their child would have a much easier time breastfeeding exclusively for the recommended six months if they had access to a comfortable, private place to express and store milk.

Things are not getting better. After getting a measly 8 hours of sleep last night Sam refused to take a nap today. With the time change he was up at 5 and I spent a good three hours trying desperately to get him to nap this afternoon. He wanted nothing to do with it. I am short tempered and frustrated and at a total loss. I don’t have much else to say. Back to breastfeeding news tomorrow.

I know this is a breastfeeding blog and I haven’t written about breastfeeding in a few days, but with NaBloPoMo I figured I’d continue expand my repertoire a bit.

The bedtime routine- bath, brushing teeth, pajamas, story, music, rocking- started at seven. By seven-thirty the lights were out and the rocking had commenced. By eight-thirty I’d given up and sent my husband in to take over. At nine we were eating our badly burned dinner (no one bothered to turn the oven off when the bedtime routine took longer than expected) and we heard Sam wandering around upstairs. Back in the crib, twenty minutes of crying later, and Bob was back in there.

I am, we are, so frustrated. He’d been dosed with motrin, he’d taken his teething tablets, he’d been nursed half a dozen times since we sat down to rock and the kid didn’t want to go to sleep. And he was exhausted.

He was finally asleep for the night at 10, but then he was up and crying at 6. I tried and tried to rock him back to sleep, cuddle him back to sleep, rub his back until he went back to sleep, but he sat up, said bye-bye and walked into the hall. I picked him up, put him in his crib and said “I’ll be back when it’s light out.” Bob went in shortly after and got up with him for the day, but seriously, doesn’t the kid need more than eight hours of sleep?

Currently he’s napping in the car in the driveway. It only took half an hour of driving around to get him sleep at 1.30. After a measly eight hours of sleep you’d think he would have passed right out.

I’m currently re-reading The No-Cry Sleep Solution for Toddlers. It seems like most of the strategies are aimed for the older set. There doesn’t seem to be a chapter that’s filled with explicit advice for how to get your kid to fall asleep when he just keeps hitting you and trying to climb off of your lap or out of bed. A three hour bedtime ritual is ridiculous.

Age 3- We just moved from Connecticut to Pennsylvania. I left my amazing, crunchy granola pre-school where my favorite teacher was a bear-like man with a viking-like red beard and transferred into a Jewish preschool around the corner where the teachers were older Main Line yentas. I didn’t like going to school very much and my mom let me stay home a lot. One day I saw my class take a walk past my house. I said, “Mom, it’s my class.” She asked if I wanted to join them. I didn’t so we stayed in and watched through the window.

Age 6- First grade at a private Episcopalian school. I was one of just a few girls in my class and the only kid who could really, truly read. I had my own private reading group with my teacher and was pulled out to see the reading specialist once a week when I tested at an eighth grade level. The reading specialist yelled at me when she assigned me a story in an anthology to read over the week and I read the whole book. Who tells a kid to *stop* reading? This may be why I eventually became a reading specialist.

Age 9- I’m in fourth grade and I don’t particularly like it. I get demerits for wearing pink socks with my uniform. I get high honors the second trimester and the only boy in the grade who got high honors in the first trimester cornered me and told me I didn’t deserve it. I stole it from him. I felt bad because he was crying.

Age 12- We move from one house to another only the new house isn’t ready. We stay at a family friends house in the woods for a few weeks while they’re away. It’s quiet and idyllic except for the green shag carpeting. After they return we stay at my aunt’s house in the city. It’s fun in it’s own way. I like walking around. I find baker’s chocolate and make brownies from scratch for the first time.

Age 15- I am very unhappy because my mother told me my dad didn’t want me around in order to get me to go to boarding school. Further investigation reveals he said no such thing, but the tuition is paid and the damage is done. I dye my hair blue then get a lead role in a play and have to remove the blue and make it blond again.

check out another NaBloPoMo participant at Wedding Tactics.