I’m an odd duck. A weirdo. A freaky personage.
Mainly for choosing what feels right, good, natural, smart for myself and for my family.
Lately it seems, I’ve been hearing more and more about just how weird I am. Oh, nobody has come right out and said, “Good god! You are sooo strange!” But it’s there in the words they say anyway.
We don’t reinforce the myths of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, etc. Oh, we don’t “forbid” them either, and the kids recieve xmas stockings and easter baskets. But we all know it’s a game of make-believe and have fun playing together. (Some years we have “Mommy Claus,” some years it’s Daddy, and best of all the kids play ‘elves’ and go to help pick out goodies for each other. I just can’t think of a single good reason to go to great lengths to lie to my kids.
“Oh, I think it’s sad that they’re ‘missing out’” I have been told. Missing out on what? Why isn’t having fun with friends and family enough? Why does there have to be something more? With all of the amazing things in the world, we’ve gotta make shit up too? In a world that contains Yellowstone, Carlsbad caverns, sunsets, kittens, puppies, hedgehogs, music, and art, and movies and theatre, and fireworks, and science, and….your’e telling me it’s sad if we miss out on made up shit? Sorry, I ain’t buying.
I breastfed. I breastfed a LOT. I breastfed publicly, unashamedly, at family gatherings, anywhere my kid needed nourishment. (And if you think I should have slunk away to the ladies room, well, the next time you eat out, why don’t you take your plate into the restroom. No? You don’t want to eat where people poop? That’s disgusting? Well, yeah, I didn’t want to feed my baby there either.) I also nursed until my children were two and three.
“I think it’s disgusting if they’re breastfed once they can start asking for it.” Oh yes, my sweet little toddler coming up for “mommy milk” or to “noyse” was disgusting. We all know that bonding with your child, giving them lots of love, and also some kick-ass nutrition to boot is just so gag inducing.
I had an unmedicated childbirth with my second one. Last night, I was told,
“I can’t believe you had a natural childbirth” (I don’t know how ‘natural’ it was, seems like there was an awful lot of fancy medical equipment near to hand)
Then came the words,
“You must have been crazy.”
Yup, yup, yup, crazy because I wanted the full, undiluted, total experience. Crazy because I trusted my body, I listened to its signals, I walked around and leaned on my husband, my mom, held hands with my mother-in-law, hugged my daughter, joked with my father-in-law, and my dad. I had the wild, intense, glorious experience that birth can be. What a weirdo, huh?
(Oh yea, and did I mention that I actually have the nerve to think I’m perfectly capable of seeing to it that my children are educated, and that I don’t think school is really a healthy environment for a kid? That’s ‘prolly another rant for another day, tho.)
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