July 9th, 2009

Okay, nobody panic…

…but I woke up with something missing this morning.  Everything seemed normal, aside from this ridiculous cold I have in July.  But there I was, drying off from the shower when suddenly I realized: I’d been burglarized.

My boobs are missing.

Just a day or so ago, they were there.  The same C-cups I’ve had through the last 2 years of pregnancy and nursing.  Not even 48 hours ago I stuffed them into a swimsuit I was trying on.  I remember them being there.

But today?  A cups.  I’m truly not kidding.  I’m not even exaggerating.  These are the kind of A cups that make people wonder if you may have been a Man at one point in your life.

I feel like I should file a police report.  So, I consult the husband:

Me: “Do you notice anything missing?”
Him: “Like what?”
Me: “My boobs are gone.”
Him: “Oh yeah, I know, I noticed that yesterday.”
Me: “WHAT!??!  You noticed!?!”
Him: “Yeah, it was strange – it only took about 2 days, but they went away.”
Me: *Gulp*

So I’m not just imagining it.

Add this to the column of Totally UnGodly Yet Perfectly Natural Weird Ass Things That Happen to A Mother’s Body.  Apparently my chest got the hint that I wasn’t nursing as much as I once had, and it decided to lay off at least 80% of the Milk Production workforce.  This comes as quite a shock to the system.  Just when I thought I had gotten used to my body doing all sorts of unexplained things, it transforms itself completely overnight.  I give up.

The most frustrating part of course is that I need to go drop money on all new brassieres now.  Though I suppose "they" are so little now, I might be able to get away with wearing only a couple of Band Aids and a tank top.

It’s a really good thing my husband is not a boob man.  I had A cups when he met me, so he knew the Baby Boobies were probably only a temporary toy.  My rear end is the reason he married me.  But I swear if I woke up tomorrow missing my booty, he’d probably have divorce papers messengered over to me by the close of business that day.  I suppose if there's a silver lining in this anywhere it's that, thankfully, I’m the only one of us who cares that my chest took off and left me.

Of course, now I’m wondering if all my recent weight loss only came from the upper half of my body.  That sure would explain a few things…

Being a woman is just all kinds of bat-shit crazy.

June 16th, 2009

“Bad Mommy” The Finale: Things I Don’t Want to Be Called

I started to talk about this in the comments section of another blogger’s post, but I already promised to complete my thoughts about this here, so here goes.

Yes, it is true that for thousands of years, philosophers have been discussing the true meaning or concept of “Good.”  And yes, it is true that language is inherently ambiguous, meaning that the society utilizing the language decides on the meaning of that word, and there could be many completely contradictory meanings of any one word.

But is there really any question in our minds what constitutes a “bad mother?”  Sure, there are varying degrees of “bad” – ranging from the “leave-your-baby-unattended-in-a-hot-car” type of Bad to “carelessly-feed-them-junk-until-they-develop-diabetes” type of Bad.  Only one of those things will actually get you thrown in jail, but I think we can all agree that neither of those actions is “good.”  I’ll completely sidestep the obviously demented and psychologically unstable “drown-your-kids-in-the-bathtub” type, because to me that has gone far beyond “bad” mom to “clinically insane” mom.

So, knowing what our society generally accepts as the definition of a “bad mother” – why are so many GOOD mothers lining up to label themselves “bad?”  The answer has been attempted to be justified by some of the most popular mom bloggers out there today, but not one of them has convinced me of their case.  Here’s why:

Some years ago toward the peak of my rocker days, I had to deal with quite a bit of jealousy because of the unique opportunities I received.  Lesser people talked, as they do, and accused me of sleeping around to get the things I wanted.  Some of them just accused me of sleeping around for no reason.  It made them feel better about themselves to try and drag me down.  And while I was in no way a prude, or even a good girl, my life behind closed doors was nobody else’s business.

So one day I got sick of all the chatter, and I decided to take back the power!  Go Gina!  My band was headlining a big show, so I got a T-shirt made that said, in big bold letters simply, “Dirty Whore.”  I wore that shirt proudly and thought to myself “Oh yeah! You want to call me a dirty whore! Well, I beat you to it!”  I felt so witty and clever.  That’s the benefit of immaturity – it makes you think you’re so brilliant while everyone else is simply embarrassed for you.

Now I get to explain to my children why there’s a picture of their mommy on stage wearing a shirt reading “Dirty Whore.”  Not exactly one of my finer moments.  In my capricious youth I thought I was taking back the term.  Now, I realize I just sank down to their level.  Now, at 31, I realize that I gave others permission to define me and my style by derogatory terms, instead of breaking the mold and redefining what it meant to be a female artist.  How incredibly short-sighted of me.  I had a great opportunity to change attitudes, but instead I accepted defeat, accepted their label, and tried to convince myself it didn’t hurt.

And these Proud Bad Moms are no different.  They’re shirking the “mainstream” expectations of them by labeling themselves “bad” – as if “bad” is the new “good.”  Well, all I know is the real “bad” mothers are still “bad” and I wouldn’t want to be associated with that category of people no matter how hip and rebellious it seems.  What exactly is wrong with broadening the scope of what it means to be a GOOD mother?  Perhaps that’s a little more work, and wouldn’t garner as much attention and blog hits.  But Bad attracts Bad – and It won’t take too long before the truly Bad moms arrive on their blog’s doorstep telling “funny” stories of how they locked their kids in the trunk of their car because they were yellin’, and now The Good-Bad Moms end up in the precarious position of separating themselves from the Good bad and Actual bad.  And then who gets to decide what's "Acceptable Bad" and "Unacceptable Bad?" And even if everyone knew they were being “tongue-in-cheek” this is still nothing more than accepting the opinions of others rather than redefining what it means to be doing the Right Thing.

Let’s remove this from the Mommy Wars for a second and apply this to other unique groups.  Do you see educated, respectable African Americans proudly calling themselves racial slurs just because some other ignorant people do?  Hell No.  They will not sink to that level. They work to redefine what it means to be a strong black person in American Society instead of accepting defeat and assimilating into the ignorance.  Barack Obama has been called a “Terrorist” and “Communist” on a million occasions, and I don’t see him out at the press junkets saying “Yo, Yo, yeah, I’m a terrorist, what!  Terrorists are the new cool!”  Sounds ridiculous doesn’t it?  But couldn’t we argue that the word “terrorist” is just as ambiguous as “bad” and Barack has the right to redefine what it means to be a terrorist?  I know, I know. That’s just silly – about as silly as this whole "Bad Moms are really Good Moms" thing.

All I know is that Good is still Good, and no trend will undo that.  I align myself with the Good Mothers because that’s the example I want to set for my children.  Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that “Dirty Whore” thing.  I can only hope that one day, when my kids come across that picture, it teaches them a lesson about immaturity and the long-term memory of the internet.  In the meantime, I'm trying to straighten up my act.

April 30th, 2009

Things You Should Read Thursday: Vol. 4

Wow, I can’t believe I’m already on Week Four of “Things You Should Read.”  I hope everyone is enjoying it as much as I am!  I’ll have a much, much more personal post later tonight or tomorrow.  I’m still working out my feelings about that one.

First Up!

Lois Rogers: Mothers stay trim with drug to stop breast milk
This first article is so rage-inducing as a feminist and a mother that I can hardly stomach it.  It's an article about how some British women are taking a drug to stop lactation to "stay fit" because breastfeeding is such an ugly and useless thing, according to them.

“My breasts are for my husband,” said one 35-year-old French mother of twins who lives in Britain. “He wouldn’t like me feeding the babies and I don’t want to end up with a chest like a cow.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand, what do I always say again?  Right.  Women Are the Problem with Women.  I suppose my vagina is my husband's property too, so why not just let him do whatever he wants with it?  Perhaps I can make it removable so he can take it on business trips with him.  I mean, after all – it is HIS vagina.  We wouldn't want it sitting around getting bled on and peed on – not when I signed over papers to him on the day of our wedding.  "Here you go, Husband, here is the deed to my breasts and vagina.  I will refrain from using them without your sole, expressed permission…"

Ughgh.

Moving On!

Morgan Gallagher: The Case Against Reasoning
Another rebuttal to the Rosin article, but this one takes a bit different approach.  It's looooong, looooong, looooooooooong, BUT it's worth it just for the pictures alone. Oh, how we forget that doctors were advertising cigarettes just a short half-century ago.  This collection of adverts is both hilarious and horrifying.  I've only managed to read it in pieces, but it is highly intelligent and thought provoking.  I've heard Morgan called "The Quintessential Lactivist" by some Tweeters, so if you're a lactivist, get acquainted with her blog.

Happy Reading!

January 13th, 2009

Cloth Diapering (a.k.a.) Making my Brain Bleed Again

Cloth diapering keeps coming up in my world.  A friend who lives half a world away from me just started making her own (and they're freaking adorable.)  Then a discussion came up on my Mommy group about them.  And the more they get brought up, the more I want to try to make the switch.  They are just too cute.  The problem is:

A. I cannot figure out how people afford the start up cost.  This is goddamn expensive compared to the $30 a month I spend on Luvs. John and I have already been in a fight today about me spending the money on them.  He just does NOT want to do it.  And if you know John, you know just how miserable he can make my life when I spend money on something he doesn't want to spend money on.  We don't have a wedding video or a SINGLE PICTURE from our wedding because of him.  Was that stupid on his part?  Well, he thinks so now… but there was no convincing him at the time.  Oh.. I could really go off about that… but moving on…

B. All the washing instructions I've seen make this look like a full time job… and I do not need ANOTHER full time job.  If this was so easy, then why does it take every single site I visit an entire long ass-page to explain how to wash a simple little diaper?  TOO HARD, I say!!!!

But I can't help the fact that I know it's better for the environment and all that jazz.  I also know it would probably save us money in the long run if we have some more kids (although I'm not convinced that the diapers would even last through a couple of kids because I keep hearing people talk about needing to replace theirs with the same baby, and eff that noise.)

I don't know… this just seems like one of those things I should be doing… just like all the other "granola" things I've come to find important.

The first time I heard of someone doing cloth diapering I laughed my head off… "Wow, now that is effing stupid!" I thought to myself.  But… I also had the same reaction to breastfeeding, natural childbirth, and making baby food — all things I'm huge a believer in now.  Contrary to popular belief, my mind CAN be changed about things… as long as I'm presented with evidence.  I might be stubborn and passionate, but I'm not stupid.

This is somehow different though.  I keep trying and trying and trying to understand it… but I keep coming up empty handed.  As far as I can tell, getting started with Pocket Diapers (the only kind I can figure out AT ALL) would cost about $400 MINIMUM.  I mean… WTF?!??  Who has $400 sitting around?  I have some school money coming in soon, but if I spent $400 of it on that instead of paying off a year old Circuit City bill, not only would John have an aneurysm, but I'd also be paying 19% interest on that $400 too.  Spending $30 a month on Luvs seems FAR more affordable.

Here is what I need:  a button that says "Click here to buy the perfect cloth diaper that will work for your family and fit your baby all for a price your husband can swallow without losing his damn mind."

No button… no cloth diapering for me, I 'spose.

December 23rd, 2008

Ever have the feeling you’re being Cyber-stalked?

Thanks to Typepad.com's dashboard features, I can see where my referrals come from, meaning how people found my blog.  Whether you clicked on my profile in Ivillage, or you did a Google search for me, I know about those things, and my "stats" are recorded and stored so I can analyze my traffic.

Now I can also see what city the referral came from, which leads me to believe that I'm being cyber-stalked by ex-friends.  You know, those friends you don't speak to anymore (probably for a good reason) but they insist on keeping tabs on your life.  I think "they" just like looking at pictures of my kids.  Or "they" like to listen to me bitch about pumping or periods because it gives them fodder for gossip with the other people I don't talk to anymore.  Maybe they're sad because they still don't have the babies they want.

Now, you may think I'm paranoid, but I have been cyber-stalked before.  One particularly nutty ex-friend admitted to me a couple years back that she used to hang around my family website (wayyyyy after we were no longer friends) to keep tabs on Jonas.  Well, I took that website down.

So… is this happening again?  The world is a weird, weird place.  This is why I always try to leave comments on the blogs I visit; so the writers don't feel like there are strangers lurking around their business for no reason.

But, it's the internet… whaddayagonnado?