M is getting really great at dancing. He waves his arms around and gets his legs into it. Sometimes even does a little shuffle around the room. I love his moves. And I take every opportunity to play music and encourage him. I’ve been dancing a lot lately. It’s good for the body. Good for the soul. And I dance because my little man is there smiling at me and grooving right along. He likes Weezer and The Animals a lot.

Are there any of your favorite bands out there that your toddlers also dig?

 

I started writing this post awhile ago. What better time to finish it up than Nablopomo? Since I need to keep the post count going even when I may not have access to the blog from Wisconsin. So here we go.

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Again I have found myself dwelling on a conversation begun at work. And frankly, I’m a little bit surprised that the topic hadn’t come up sooner, considering the type of business we do.

Two of my coworkers were paging through one of the freebie magazines that’s included with our registry goodie bag. They were cooing over pictures of cute baby faces and adorable baby bottoms. One of them flipped the page and commented, with a touch of disgust, “Oh, that’s just like what we saw over in the glider section the other day. ” One of them used the word “nasty” as they discussed the inappropriate behavior of this particular customer.

The photo was a mother nursing her infant. The woman (or women) that had been in the store had apparently not been considerate enough to hide her body or her baby as they breastfed.

I responded with one word. “So?”

They both looked at each other, then back at me like, “Eww, she’s one of them.”

One of the things that bothered me from this exchange, and the heated (and not so civil) debate that followed, was that these attacks on a mother’s right to nurse her child anywhere and anytime her baby needs to be fed were coming from two other women. One of whom is a mother herself.

It often happens when I am confronted and placed in a defensive position that I am unable to articulate my thoughts to my own satisfaction. While it would be nice to speak in such a way that might change a mind, most of the time, I know that certain issues involve minds that are not going to be so open to change. I don’t expect to change a mind. If I do, it’s gravy. I just like to have the chance to form my arguments and say my piece.

Unfortunately, when you get into a two-against-one scenario like this, usually the two will gang up on the one, feeling superior because another person in the conversation has validated their position, regardless of right or wrong.

Of course, I believe I am right on this issue. And my validation comes from the fact that the law happens to be on my side. That’s a pretty big check mark in my favor.

But since I didn’t really get to finish my argument to my coworkers, I wanted to get it off my chest. Thank goodness I have a blog in which to do just such a thing.

When I said, “So?” I was truly curious what the big deal was to them. They both have seen breasts before. One of them had nursed babies. They both believe that breastmilk is the best food for babies (to the best of my knowledge). Why take offense if a mother is doing the best thing for her baby and refuses to be ashamed of her body while allowing it to carry out its duty?

Their answer was that feeding a baby is a time for bonding and intimacy. That it is a private moment to be shared only within the family unit.

I get that. Bonding is important. But bonding does not always happen in private because bonding includes more aspects of parenthood than feeding alone. And I think that it’s also important for a mother not to feel isolated from society just because she happens to be her baby’s only source of nourishment or comfort. Social interaction on every continent and in every country around the world includes the sharing of meals. Eating, while it does not always have to be, is often a social activity. My family, specifically, has been known to plan entire vacations and visits around meals. It’s what we do. So why should we isolate our newest members of society because they need to eat? But not when they merely need to be fed, specifically, when they need to receive their primary nourishment from their mother’s breast. Bottle fed babies are not isolated or covered up, though to some people, bottles may be just as offensive.

True, we aren’t supposed to express our outrage that a baby is getting nourishment from chemically altered cow’s milk delivered by artificial plastic nipples. Because we don’t know that family’s situation. Now, I understand why some people may not breastfeed. I have very good friends and family members that chose not to or weaned early. My problem is not with the individuals who are only trying to do what is best for their families. My problem is this attitude from society that puts breastfeeding, the ideal way for a baby to eat (according to any medical research you can find and even printed all over formula labels and literature), behind closed doors and gives formula, the fourth best way to feed babies, this undeserved elevated status. It’s no wonder that our country’s breastfeeding rates are so sad. We never see it, so we don’t know how to do it.

“So why don’t you take off your shirt right now.”

I have no problem showing my body. In the right context, nudity is empowering and appropriate. The reason that bare breasts are so taboo is another issue I have with how we perceive each other in our culture. When they’re sexualized, they’re fine. When they’re functional, they’re obscene. But that’s another rant for another day.

“It’s like sucking on a guy’s dick.”

You know that it would be totally acceptable to do that in public if men ejaculated three square meals a day and healthy between meal snacks. Because men influence the women of society. So womeon are put into a closet if they’re using their bodies in a way that doesn’t strictly adhere to an outdated puritanical ideal.

These comments totally caught me off guard. Not only because of the people and place, but also because of just how ridiculous they sounded. Are we not more enlightened than that? Breastfeeding is a beautiful and incredible act. It is the ultimate offering of part of yourself to another person. Women are able to give life and sustain it with their bodies, even after they birth their babies. I honestly don’t understand why it is so horrifying to some people, and how we let those people allow us to get on the defensive about this. If anything, nature has proven its benefets to us time and again. Even people who are moving away from more processed materials like plastics, pesticides and polyesters toward more organic foods and clothing still don’t think much, if anything, about the consequences of making a choice like bottles and formula (or disposable diapers, for that matter, but I digress). Not only the consequences to the health of their babies, but the consequences to nursing mothers in America, or the mothers that want to nurse but fail because of societal pressures like this.

It just makes me so sad. Sad for the mothers who might not have given up on breastfeeding had their environment been a more supportive one. Sad for the babies who end up at higher risk for various problems in life that might have been avoided if they’d been fed the way nature intended. Sad for the people who have no idea that their attitudes of hate only make things worse for everyone. Just sad.

But I know that I have done and continue to do right by my child. With his family history, there was no way I was going to stop nursing him before we were both ready, before I was fully confident that I had given him all he needed from me. Yes, he’s two years old. Yes I still nurse him one to three times a day. But I believe in my heart this is what he needs, that it’s my job to provide this for him for as long as it works for us. When he was younger, I fed him anywhere, and rarely went out of my way to hide myself or cover up. He wouldn’t tolerate it, and I didn’t feel ashamed. And I’ll do it for any other babies I am lucky enough to have. And I’ll encourage everyone who wants to nurse their babies to do it for as long as they need to, to be proud of what they’re doing, to find power and strength in their bodies’ abilities to nourish, to mother. If we can be confident in our choices, we can change minds and attidudes and even society at large over time.

The diapers are in the wash. Dishes are done. And James and I are trying to watch the whole Star Trek movie while M takes his nap.

Thanks to the generosity of family, we’re taking an evening flight to Milwaukee today. It’s going to be a whirlwind. And this trip, originally to attend Grandma’s funeral, has now turned into nearly a week’s  vacation for me and the kid. I’m glad about that, in some ways, but it also feels kind of weird.

So I’ll be hanging out in Milwaukee through Tuesday morning now. Though James has to return home on Friday. I will miss him, but it will be good for all of us to spend some time with family.

So now, I’m going to pack up the laptop and see if we make it to the end of the movie. To those of you local to my destination, I will see many of you soon.

So my computer has been obsessively bothering me about my low disk space. So I deleted a bunch of large picture files (making sure they were all on my external storage device, too, of course). I went through my programs to change/remove the stuff that’s rarely used. I think I freed up a good chunk of space. But there are programs that are still hanging around that I have no idea how to uninstall. Because if they were nice, they’d offer up an “uninstall” option from the programs menu. Nope. Not nice programs.

I don’t use much on the computer. I have Adobe CS3, which certainly takes up more than its fair share of disk space. I have MS Office from 2003, which is also somewhat large. I have Firefox to browse the Internets, and a few other random Windows accoutrements that come in handy for viewing pictures and extracting files, but really, I don’t need a lot. So where does all my disk space go? And how can I fix it better?

The thing is, one of the times that I went on a deleting spree in the past, I accidently must have deleted a program or driver or something that allows my laptop to play DVDs. Which was one feature that as my kid got older, I was sure would come in handy on long drives or flights. But then for no reason, DVDs don’t work anymore. Okay, maybe not “for no reason,” but really, I would think that a program that I actually used would ring enough of a bell that would make me think twice about tossing it into the old recycle bin.

So, in conclusion, I have two questions:

1. How do you clean up a hard drive and really, truly delete all those stupid programs that you don’t use or need anymore?
2. How can I get my laptop to play DVDs again? Can I download something from Microsoft or HP to fix whatever I broke? Is there free software or drivers I can get somewhere? Or do I have to pay for something? And will it take up so much space on my hard drive that I’ll have to run the “disk cleanup” every ten minutes again for the rest of my computer’s life?

I was reviewing my clothing options for Thursday’s funeral and landed on a dress I’ve worn to two weddings and a baptism. When I was considering my footwear, I realized that I didn’t have anything appropriate for fall, though I did manage to find some stockings. I never wear stockings. And the word itself even feels a little strange in my mouth and rolling around in my head.

Anyway, a fall funeral seems to require stockings. And shoes that are a little more closed than I am used to wearing. My dress shoes all seem to be sandal-like. Because the open-foot look distracts from the fact that the heel is either super low or nonexistent.

So I went to the thrift store this morning to look for a pair of low-heeled, closed-toed shoes that would go with my dress.

I found some red ones. They’re a little shiny, and one of the heels is scuffed, but they’re me, even if the heel is a little higher than I would normally prefer. I think they’re appropriate, but still me. And now I have a pair of dress shoes to wear with pretty much every dress in my closet, for under $5.

Yeah, the price tag was pretty much what sold me, even though they may not be the most comfortable shoes I’ll ever own. What can I say, I just freaked out at my bank account because I thought I wouldn’t have enough money in there to cover the pending mortgage payment, so I switched around the dates on some other bills only to realize that the mortgage payment went through on Friday, so in reality, there’s plenty of money in there to cover the pending bills, and maybe even a little extra to help us on our journey “home” this week.

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Edited to add: M thinks they’re cool, too.

 

Grandma passed away last night. It was quick, and she was comfortable and among family.

We leave for Wisconsin on Tuesday. The funeral is Thursday. We have a lot to do.

If anyone is reading this and knows a good way to make more money or spend less, I’m all ears. I’m working almost as many hours as is physically possible, though maybe there’s a way to work more. There are no freelance gigs coming in. And we’re going over budget every month.

This is the thing on my mind. The reason I don’t mind if the bosses keep us late closing the store. Even an extra five or ten minutes makes a difference on the paycheck, if only a tiny one. This is why I’m looking everywhere for answers. Talking about ways to make our lives different. Applying for new jobs myself. Thinking about what I can do to pinch another penny.

We can’t afford our debt. And if we pay our debt, we can’t afford to fill our cars or our bellies without adding more to our debt. It’s not by that much each month, but it all adds up. Keeps adding up. And then root canals, prescriptions. I put off seeing a doctor for a couple of minor issues I’ve had going on because they’re not urgent enough to warrant spending the $25 co-pay.

So I’m on Craigslist looking for anything that catches my eye. I’m reading paid emails and filling out surveys for a few cents a pop. I’m talking again with my manager about how to get more hours. Maybe I can work a double shift on Thursdays, come in earlier than opening on the days I open. Add another day, another couple hours.

Anyone have meal plans? Recipes with few and cheap ingredients? Ideas on how to make another dollar? I’ll take any advice. Because with student loans in deferment and an interest-only mortgage that’s not going to be interest-only forever, the future doesn’t look much better from where I’m sitting right now.

James’ grandmother is in hospice care. Yeah, kind of a heavy topic for a Friday night, but here we go.

She’s been fighting cancer for some time. It’s finally taken its toll on her old body. And it’s been a rough time for her family. For my husband’s family. And for us. Not being there.

We’ve been busy with our respective jobs and raising a kid and what-not. But the whole time, this is there. This dying. This passing. And it’s not easy. She’s our last grandparent.

I started writing tonight wanting to say something about how life is short. Even when it’s long. I wanted to say that I hope everyone makes amends before she’s gone. I’m not sure how to say what’s in my head or in my heart. I’ve been lucky enough not to have a lot of experience with death. It is still unfamiliar territory.

So maybe I’ll have something better to say on another day. Right now it’s just another waiting game. It could be days, weeks, even months. But we’re on notice. Because we’ll go back for the funeral. It’s hard to wait for death. To feel so helpless to do anything from so far away while she still lives.

I don’t feel like myself. I’m not writing like myself. It’s getting late. I worked this afternoon. I had a great time playing with my son when we got home. Life is good, could be better, but we have love. We have lots of that.

And this wasn’t what I wanted to say at all.

For the first time ever, tonight M requested bedtime snuggles from Daddy. Usually when both of us are here, even if I just got home from work, like today, I put him to bed, at least finish up the routine. Not tonight. Nope. Tonight I”m on dinner duty instead.

I’m not sure if I feel rejected or proud. Maybe a little bit of both.

At least I got hugs and kisses, a thrown kiss and a big smiley, “bye!”

I sure do love those guys.

We used to go to a play group every week over at my friend Jenny’s house. We took a break over the summer and Jenny started working more full-time, so we just sort of let the group dissipate. I’ve been missing it. Or something to take its place. I like having something to look forward to. Something social, something stimulating. I like M having a place to play and new people to see. He’s very shy around other kids, since he spends the majority of his time with his parents. So it would be good for him to have a place to go to play and meet some new friends.

So when Jenny mentioned this Bible study thing, there were a couple of aspects that appealed to me. And to be honest, the whole Bible part of it really wasn’t one of them. I’m a fairly spiritual person. I have a relationship with God, in my own way. But I’m not really one of those “Bible people.” You know? What appeals to me is the personal connection, the intellectual discussion, the opportunity to learn something about myself, and the opportunity for M to learn new things and social skills.

The other main attraction was that it’s free. Free meetings and free childcare, or child classes, as it happens. So now we have something to do on Wednesday mornings. I feel good about it. And I hope it turns out to be good for us both.

The last few weeks have been rough. James has had one of those important visits from some important corporate person hanging over his head. It’s been postponed and postponed again. Which sometimes is fine in the short-term–like the days when he would have had to put in an extra several hours on top of a full shift, he ends up home in time for dinner–but as the weeks have dragged on, there are more days than not when we barely have time to communicate the very basics of household activities. Did the kid eat? Are the dishes clean? Do you need any pants washed?

Needless to say, we haven’t had much quality time together. Which leaves me feeling a little lonely. I’ve been missing a lot of my friends. I’ve been trying to do something that makes me feel better about our situation. That being, me waiting for James to have some time not only for me, but for himself. He had been doing very well with his physical fitness and determination to meet certain goals he’d set out for himself. Now, though, with all that’s happening at his store, it seems like we’ve landed back in purgatory. And here I am again, the disappointed optimist.

I’m trying to figure out what I can do to change our circumstances while James works. I applied for a job I probably don’t have a chance at getting. I am racking my brain to think of ways to cut the spending budget. The only income increase I can hope for is that I get some extra hours tossed my way soon. Or some freelance work comes in. I am feeling burdened and trapped. And I feel like the only one carrying the weight.

I have some ideas. But it’s not going to be easy. And I can’t do it alone.

The sun is shining. M rode his bike very well this morning and had fun, and James will be home for dinner. Maybe we can come up with some plans together.

So is it just boys? Or kids in general? Because M had a photo session at the JC Penny portrait studio scheduled for this morning and what else would happen while we were getting ready but he would bump his head in such a way that it bled.

He never cuts himself badly. Usually just falls down or runs into things that might make him bruise a little, which tends not to be very visible. But today of all days, he bleeds.

But not just from his head, no. If it had been the side or back of his head, fine. As long as it didn’t require a trip to the emergency room, no big deal. But this cut happened to land on his face.

Right by his eye.

I cleaned him up as well as I could. I tried to ice his brow so that it wouldn’t swell up too badly. The portraits still turned out adorable, and you can barely see the little red gash. I suppose the injury could have happened in a more obvious part of the face.

As soon as I made sure the injury was minor enough, I dabbed the blood from his head and just kind of laughed to myself. Because it figures. And I’m well aware that mine is not the first kid to get his picture taken with some manner of contusion present in the shot, he won’t be the last, and I’d even wager that it happens to M again in the future.

We had a great morning otherwise, though. After portraits, we stopped at my old bookstore just in time for Storytime. M got to color and run around a little bit, and I actually encountered a couple of my former coworkers and chatted for a bit.

Since it’s officially after midnight, I’m going to go ahead and get my first November post in right away before I forget. I’ve been forgetful lately. I have a thousand things on my to do list, which seems to be taking up valuable space in my brain, slowing down other functioning, but I don’t seem to remember to complete any of the list items with any manner of organization or reliability.

Autumn is hard for me. The darker days and nastier weather tend to bring me down. They always have, probably always will. So I’ve been in a blue place. But I took my kid trick-or-treating for the first time this year, and we both had a blast. We went with my friend/co-worker and her daughter, and M got the hang of the whole knock on the door, smile and hold out pumpkin bucket, receive treats process pretty quickly. It was a late night. Still is. But maybe that will help us combat the whole daylight savings thing a little better tomorrow.

I know I haven’t talked about his birthday yet, but it’s coming, and I’ll probably edit the posting date so it’s not going to count among my 30 November posts, and may not show up at the top of the page for long. But look for it. Because it’ll be one to see.

Now, I should sleep. If the evening’s frappucino will let me.

Dear Michael,

My words are failing me. Which is why I’m so thankful that I have my camera around to capture some of the best memories of my life. I have loved spending the last two years getting to know you. You are sweet and inquisitive and polite and the most incredible kid I’ve ever known. Thanks for picking me to be your mom.

Best. Job. Ever.

Love,
Mommy

I’ve been cleaning out the office one slow step at a time. We can actually see and use most of the surface of the desk for probably the first time since we assembled the thing, and I’ve been sorting through old magazines, books, and other miscellaneous items, managing to pile up quite the collection to trash or take over to the thrift store.

In the process, I came across my old giant journals again. The Big Books. I have two. One of them is full of not only my own thoughts and random doodles and collages, but also those done by other people. The other is not very full at all. So I’ve been thinking about tackling some of those empty pages and returning to my roots, so to speak.

Because I don’t have enough to do, already, you know.