10% off at pottery barn

Every once in a great while I start to care what kind of furniture I have, what I wear, how cute my kids' clothes are. I start to want, want, want. It is so easy to get wrapped up in stuff. It's the symptom of a lazy brain. Then I remember that I think it's funny that Violet will eat with a fork until you say "Hey! You're using your fork!" Then she puts it down and goes back to eating with her fingers. Who cares? Will she be eating with her hands when she's 15? Doubtful. Last time I had a pedicure? I think I was pregnant with Violet. Explain to me why either one of those things is important. I've let my mind wander toward normalcy. Whatever that may be. It seems that normalcy these days is working 8 hours at a job you either hate or can do half-conscious, spending 3 in front of the TV, off to sleep, and do it over. Every once in awhile you have sex with someone you love, or don't for that matter. How often do you make a human connection? That can wait until after Dancing With The Stars. Fuck normal. I don't use that word often. Especially not in writing. But someone save me from caring about what other people think. I don't want the hassle of normal. I want real live life. Nasty, dirty, gloriously resplendent life. My life need some pruning shears. And a wheelbarrow.

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same,
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same

And the people in the houses
All went to the university
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same
And there's doctors and lawyers
And business executives
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same,
There's a pink one and a green one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

Words and music by Malvina Reynolds.Copyright 1962, Schroder Music Company

I am well aware this post was incoherent, disjointed, and probably made no sense to anyone but me. Night night.



On military spousehood

Being a military wife can seriously suck. Conor hasn't even deployed yet and it can still suck. But I married into it. Deliberately. There are no "Air Force Wife, Hardest Job in the Military" stickers on my car. I will throw in the obligatory YES, I support the troops. That should be obvious. But I am continually sickened by the self-congratulatory attitude of service members and their wives. It is a service. We volunteered. Please stop falling all over yourselves for your own choices. I feel like it's the same sort of bandwagon the sports junkies jump on. Everyone wants to be part of a superior group. They want to belong. I don't think that our military shouldn't be recognized for their achievements by the people they serve to protect. I think they should be recognized like any other group, like police officers or firefighters. But the key words are "the people they serve." Not themselves. It's the "tooting your own horn" that I object to. Some families truly face adversity in the military. They face the uncertainty of a loved one going off to war. I recognize them for their sacrifice. I'm not going to ask anyone to recognize me for sending my husband off to sit at a bank of computers for 12 hours. There is a big difference. An incomparable difference. And trying to jump on that bandwagon lessens the enormity of the sacrifices some families make.


Phelps hate group to picket VA Tech funerals. Is there no shame? I'm sure I have nothing new to say about the Phelps clan, so I'll just leave it at that.

Have a listen to "Westboro Baptist Church" by I Can Lick Any Sonofabitch In The House. It's a little ... um ... rough, for my more sensitive readers.

Crisis in Darfur

The US Holocaust Memorial Museum has partnered with Google Earth to depict the ongoing crisis in Sudan. If you haven't already, I suggest you search "Darfur, Sudan" in your Google Earth (I had to update mine).


a fat rant

watch it. seriously.

there are some people in my life for whom weight seems to be the be all end all. for whom the question "how's she doing" equates to "still fat?". two babies in a five foot frame make for a belly that looks like a cross between a deflated beach ball and a topographical map. and no matter how much i weigh, that's not going to change. i'm by no means saying that the pregnancy ice cream didn't help, but my body nourished some little people and took a beating in the process. and while we're at it, could someone do a short rant? we need clothes too.


woohoo for boobies

Conor called me on his half from the buck and told me that his ASM was nursing her baby in the cafe. He said "I was like, woohoo!" I had to make sure he didn't actually SAY woohoo, because to a woman with an exposed breast, that could be taken the wrong way.


goodbye fluff, hello meaty goodness

I do a lot of reading and a lot of research. Little I do is based on ignorance. Stupidity, sure. Ignorance, never. I've been squelching myself for fear of stepping on toes and offending. That is new territory for me. Any of you who know me know that. I have learned, however, that I can have an opinion, I can share it. I can believe I'm right. I can say that I think it is a violation of human rights to cut the genitals of unconsenting baby boys. That it is wrong wrong wrong. I can say that I have persevered through many setbacks to nursing my children, and that it is the best thing I could have done. I understand the setbacks of nicu stays, of low supply, of babies with reflux, and it can be done! I can say that my children remain unvaccinated. I can say these things without telling others that they are bad parents for doing differently, even if I believe they are wrong. If I don't try to disseminate the information, I'm party to the problem. It is a fine line I'm learning to walk. I have learned that pacifiers are not the devil. That to a little boy, with an established breastfeeding relationship, and a nasty case of reflux, it can be a godsend. I can say, YES, I'll be nursing him as a toddler, just like the rest of the world. And no, it is not abusive, and NO IT WILL NOT MAKE HIM GAY. Seems to me, it would make him a boob man, but go figure. I've been getting a little tired of the fluff, and these are the things I'm interested in. NO to time-outs and spanking (we've made it to 2 1/2 with no punishment!!!), lactivism, intactivism, natural healing, consensual living, babywearing, securely attached children. It is time to write about what I believe, and this is it.


Extended Breastfeeding

"Evidence suggests more women are breast-feeding their children until they're toddlers and older -- and they're not just earth-mother stereotypes"

Boston Globe Article.

I nursed Violet until she was 17 months. She weened during my pregnancy with Finn out of sheer lack of milk. It just wouldn't stick around with all those pregnancy hormones interfering. I've had some problems with supply, hence my pancake post. I truly truly hope to make it to a minimum of 2 with Finn without losing my milk. It's already looking down, and that makes me a little crazy. Once we get moved in and settled, I'm doing everything I can to bump up supply. I'll be buying stock in oatmeal and fenugreek crops. My doctor, as much as I love him, made the comment that Finn had the 6 months of exclusive nursing, and anything else would just be gravy. I don't really understand why that would be the case, as if human milk magically loses it's immunological and nutritional properties. Like my boobies have turned into pumpkins at six months postpartum. I think he was just trying to prepare me for the possibility that my milk wouldn't bump back up. I'm digging my heals in, but with a commitment that I will do what is best for Finn. I will not refuse to supplement if that is what is necessary for him to gain weight properly, but I will do my damndest to try to make sure it won't be necessary.


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