Here's To Silly!

Have I ever told you how . . . um . . . active Bean is?  She is always moving.  The bigger she gets, the harder she is to hold on to.  Especially since with bigger comes stronger.  Bath time wrangling has become a serious sport.
Strangely, so has nursing.  Sometimes she is calm and it is the sweet, quiet, relaxing time that you read about, well, I don't know where.  I've read about it on a whole variety of blogs.  There's probably books and stuff that talk about it, too.  Maybe reading about breastfeeding isn't really all that common.  It has become so for me.  Anyway, sometimes it's all sweet like that.  Other times it's an adventure.  She talks and growls while she eats.  She flaps her available arm and leg about (This is one reason that covers and I are not friends.  The waving material acts like a flag and actually draws more attention to us.  Bean has yet to comprehend modesty and discretion).  Often it's not her flapping limbs about, but using them to try to climb up me.  She's even hit my collarbone with such force that's she's bruised me (just barely and just once, but still)! 
Also, notice the gripping of the shirt.  That is the hand Wonderman and I used to call "The Modesty Hand" because she would put it up over her face while she ate, which also covered up any part of me that could possibly be showing.  Now it gets called "The Immodesty Hand" because she uses it to grab my shirt and pull it as far out and down as she can. 

Not related to wrangling of any kind, I would just like to make sure you notice the awesome difference in skin color between the two of us.  I know she's mine because I was there when I birthed her, but she isn't quite as obviously (to the untrained eye) mine as she is her father's.  When I had my hair in braids, a friend of mine described my appearance as "ethnically vague."  As much as I identify myself as "white," Bean and I definitely appear to be of not entirely the same ethnicity.  Weird. 

Conclusion:  True love is much more than skin deep.

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So, since you know me so well, you know that I love to play with stuff.  Words, mostly (I was lamenting just the other day to Wonderman that I'll probably be that mom the Bean rolls her eyes at with some regularity because I make so many lame puns and think I'm hilarious.  Sad, but not sad enough to stop.  Poor Bean).  Parody also makes me smile.  Here's two fun things that do just that.

1 - You know how I was talking about me becoming an activist?  Turns out there's a better word for it.  I'm a LACTIVIST.  Awesome.  I think I need a t-shirt.

2 - You know I love my sling?  I know Beyonce' is  a little over-parodied, but I couldn't help myself.  It made me laugh.  Maybe it will make you laugh, too.
Conclusion:  As serious as I am, I can't take myself too seriously.  Nor can you.  Unless I'm threatening to punch you, then maybe I'm serious.

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I'm a little late for National Breastfeeding Month - it was in August.  I guess I was just occupied with gestating and surviving the heat.  Still, I'd like to revisit one of my favorite moments from the celebration.  I saw this video on a few different blogs.  Now it's on mine.


Conclusion:  To everything (turn, turn, turn), there is a season (turn, turn, turn) and a time to every purpose . . . under heaven.

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So, a friend of mine (mid-sentence aside that has nothing to do with anything, but I just realized that I start a lot of posts, sentences, emails, and all kinds of semi-important things with the word "so."  It might be annoying, but I'm not sure I'm ready to stop) recently posted on her blog about her experience with high school PE.  It, of course, made me think of my own experiences, some good, some bad.  With the good came thoughts of Miss Buckley (a former weight lifter and Miss Universe [or something equally exciting] contestant, if the stories are true) and water aerobics.  It was my first introduction to the pursuit, so I had no idea of its connection to little old ladies.  Miss Buckley was anything but.  The seventeen girls in the class (and one lone boy who we all thought was strange until we realized maybe he was more wily than strange) were anything but.  The music we aerobic-ed to was for those who were anything but.  I loved me some water aerobics.  I still would, were they an option in my current situation, but there are no instructors here and I don't quite feel up to doing it myself (the instructing or just the aerobics). 

Anyway . . . as I pondered nostalgically the days of the water aerobic, I remembered my awkward attempt at taking a social/political stance.  We all wore swimsuits.  We all showered after class.  Not being in individual stalls, we all wore swimsuits in the shower.  I remember thinking to myself, "Self, this is silliness.  For certain boys don't shower in anything but the nude when in a locker room.  No one here is going to look or care if we just shower how showers are meant to be taken.  This is less comfortable and less effective.  Why are girls so silly?"  The next day in the shower, I proceeded to take my suit off and really shower.  My goodness, the stares of shock and horror were sharp.  I never did it again. I'd like to think today I'd be stronger in my stance against such silliness (which is strange, since in general I support all kinds of silliness; the principle is different, I'm sure).  However, I also realize now that in fighting the silliness, I was making 16 other girls uncomfortable.  At what point would value of their discomfort outweigh my own (as well as the importance of what was actually logical)? 

As I navigate my life now (my goodness, could that have really been half a lifetime ago?), I realize that I have always had a strange relationship with modesty.  I'm all for covering up what should be covered, except for when it's silly.  Back then is was a swimsuit, now it's a nursing cover.  I'll tell you what, the nursing cover (or lack thereof) is an issue that deals with a lot less skin, but seems to provoke even more social dander.  Still, my reasoning is the same.  It's less comfortable, more difficult, and less effective for me to nurse with everything, including Bean, covered up.  The social ire, of course, ruffles my feathers.  Turns out, instead of a nice, obedient (oppositional defiance aside), sweet and appropriate girl, I was meant to be a political activist.  It probably was my life's calling, but I missed it to be a mommy.  Putting it that way, I'm glad I did.  That's not to say a little activism won't creep up now and then, especially as it relates to being a mommy.

Conclusion:  Standing up for what you believe in takes more than gumption.  It takes diplomacy.

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This blog post has been on my mind quite a bit the past few days. 

Conclusion:  Sometimes what gets labeled "progress" isn't actually progress at all.

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So, I have all kinds of plans to document my foray into motherhood, with deep thoughts and insights right alongside funny stories.  Turns out, blogging hasn't been a priority.  Meh.  Still, I have just a few short tidbits for today. 

Nursing.  I'm a big fan.  Hooray for breastmilk and all its goodness.  However, as I told Wonderman tonight, it's beginning to feel like every day has a different funny/humiliating story related to nursing.  When my friend told me that I was entering the stage of bodily fluids, I had no idea how real that was.  Yesterday I was so pleased with myself.  I topped last week's big nursing accomplishment (I nursed in public [a hidden corner in the back of a Kohl's store] without a nursing cover, and was totally modest yet unashamed) by nursing in public (this time with the cover) while walking around Costco.  That may not sound like a big deal to those of you who have mastered the sling and the nursing that can accompany it.  I, however, simply held Bean in just the right position for almost a half an hour while we shopped because my sling experiences thus far have been far from successful.  My arm, shoulder, and elbow were sore as I buckled Bean into her carseat, but I was so content with my accomplishment.  That is until I looked down and saw that my entire other side (you know, the side that she wasn't nursing on) was quite literally soaked.  Sigh.  I still have so much to learn.

On another hippie note - Today marks one full week of nothing but cloth diapers.  There is much to say regarding, however today I will simply celebrate.  You may infer that I did, in fact, use some disposable diapers.  Alas, for all my big plans and ideals, I did.  I think that all is well and figured out and we are on our way.  Thank goodness, since we leave the country soon and I don't want all my baggage (and budget) to go to support a diaper habit.

The end.  For tonight.

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