Let’s talk about…

Extended nursing.

Check out this link. Huffington Post Article 

Don’t worry so much about the actual article. With the exception of the article saying Rielle Hunter “admits” that she is still nursing her two year old, (Saying “admit” is like saying it is some taboo or illegal practice. Give me a break! She TOLD another mother she is still breastfeeding) and an idiotic poll about people’s opinion of Rielle Hunter breastfeeding her 2 year old (because you know what opinions are like…), the issue I have is with the comments people have posted. OK, so I didn’t read all the comments. I got ticked at one particular one and quit reading.

An OB nurse (yeah, sure you are, and what about being an OB nurse qualifies you to give parenting, let alone lactation, advice?) posted “I find that women who continue to nurse after the point at which the child can articulate their desire to breast feed, are generally doing so for their own needs, rather than the needs of their child. Often they are women who bask in the reflected glow of their babies, and are unwilling to let go of this reward. It has nothing to do with nutritional needs. I'm all for healthy breastfeeding, but there comes a point at which it is an impairment to the psychological development of the child, impeding splitting from the mother.”

Listen, sister, my child self-weaned at 3 months shy of her 3rd birthday. I would have been happy if she self-weaned any time after her 1st birthday, but she didn’t want to wean. She could tell me in full sentences that she WANTED to nurse. Tell me, how has her extended nursing impaired her psychological development? She is an independent child (believe me, every other sentence out of her mouth is “I can do it by myself!) with the vocabulary of a middle-schooler. There is absolutely no problem with her development. Psychological or otherwise.

I was basking in no “glow” of my baby. I would have loved to have had my breasts back to being used for recreational purposes only sooner, but she still wanted, and needed I might add, to nurse. You said it yourself, the child “can articulate their desire to breast feed”. Their “desire to breast feed”. What about that says that the mother is doing it for her “own needs” as you put it?

And finally, you say you are “all for healthy breastfeeding”. Well, I’ve got some news for you, Nursey. Breastfeeding your 2 year old IS healthy. I would think as an OB nurse who claims to know so much about lactation and parenting you would know that, but I bet they didn’t cover that in the extensive (by the way bold = dripping with sarcasm here) training you have had on healthy breastfeeding, which was what? A few hours at most, right?

Stick with what you know. You are probably an excellent OB nurse, but an expert on healthy breastfeeding, you ain’t.


(And to my lovely OB nurse friend, Shannon, you rock! If you made the post I’m bitching about, keep it to yourself. :) )

I'm a bad, bad girl...

So, obviously I have been taking a break from blogging. Not on purpose, mind you. Life just seems to get in the way sometimes.

Remember those changes I was talking about? (http://mommysbreakdown.blogspot.com/2009/06/ch-ch-ch-changes.html ) Well, they have come to pass. The company I work for (or is it for which I work? I never get that one right...) has filed for bankruptcy and been sold. I am confident that this is a good thing for not only myself, but for the many others who work with me. My previous ass, I mean boss, was let go several months ago. Little did I know a ton of the stress I was feeling before was caused in large part by the continuous pot stirring she was doing. I'm feeling mmuucchh better now....

Anywho, I promise to be a better blogger, but feel free to spank me anyway... :)

Glass half empty?

I friend of mine (Hi, Nicole!) sent me one of those “Getting to Know You” type e-mails today. You know the kind I mean, right? The ones that always start with “Do not reply. Cut and Paste the e-mail below and delete my answers….” Yeah, well I always just reply, cause I am a rebel like that.

Anyway, one of the questions was whether or not I am a half glass empty or half glass full kind of person. I immediately answered “half empty”. Another friend that I sent my responses to (Hi, Karyn!) responded “NO WAY!” that I was a “life gave me lemons and I made lemonade” kind of person. (Is it just me or am I using a ton of quotes in this post?) I have often said that your life is what you make it. You have to DECIDE that you will have a good day, DECIDE that you will be happy.

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I didn’t have the greatest childhood. I won’t get into the details here in case my mother learns how to Google, but let’s just say it could have been better. (Or, to put a more positive spin on things, it could have been worse.) Thankfully I had an ornery old Grand-daddy who made sure my brother and sister and I had what we needed.

I spent a lot of years being mad that I didn’t have the home life I thought would make me happy, that we didn’t have the money to get the things I wanted (we did have the things we needed ), and lots of other things that, looking back, are so miniscule. I walked around with a huge chip on my shoulder and an “ill as a hornet” attitude. One day, many moons ago, I decided that I was going to be happy. That’s it. I just decided. I wasn’t going to let my childhood or anything else define the kind of person I was.

So now I am almost always a happy type of person. I try to speak to people that I pass in the hallways or on the production floor at work or at least smile. I might be the only person today to be nice to that person and I don’t want to miss the opportunity. I think that attitude is contagious, so I try to put out the one I would want back. Until recently anyway.

Lately I have slipped back into my ill ways to an extent. I am less likely to speak to people I pass. Less likely to make jokes or laugh at those told to me. More likely to be short tempered with my husband and daughter. And I hate it. I hate every time I make a smart remark to someone. I hate every time I snap at my husband. I hate it. I have been blaming it on stress and hormones (I seriously think I have PMDD), but that’s no excuse. I decide what I will be like. I decide if I will be happy. I decide if I will have a good day.

So the next time I offer to slap someone, remind me what I decided, OK?