Archives for September 2007

Dear Bill Maher, Let’s Talk Breasts. And Feeding.

Thanks to other bloggers, I was able to catch your segment on breastfeeding. Sad to say, I don’t think we’ll be having lunch out together anytime soon. Not that you and I would ever agree on a restaurant, anyway, since the only way you can tolerate breasts and eating in unison is at Hooters.

I understand you don’t have kids, and therefore, don’t understand the importance of breastfeeding. You probably don’t like eating near kids who are loud at the table, either. However, these kids are your future. They will be paying your social security, they will be serving as your nurses as they feed you your Ensure through a straw. So you might want to take some interest in their upbringing.

You, as a celebrity, are in a unique position for people to hear your message. I can rant and rave on my little blog here as much as I like, but I’m probably only reaching 200-300 people at most. You can reach millions. Yet you squandered your chance to educate and inform by choosing to belittle breastfeeding activists and speak out against breastfeeding openly in public.

All research points to breastfeeding being the optimal food for an infant. (Take a moment and read the American Academy of Pediatrics official policy. It’s enlightening.) Millions of years of evolution (you do still believe in evolution, right?) have produced the perfect food for humans during one of their most critical periods of development. Cow milk is for baby cows, dog milk is for baby dogs, and human milk is for baby people. But even though we know this, and all medical associations promote and support breastmilk as the optimal food for infants for their first year of life, only 41.5% of infants in the U.S. are still being breastfed at six months. Less than 12% were breastfed exclusively past six months.

Why is this? Well, one reason is because of asshats like you. Remarks like those you made recently shame women into thinking their breasts are only indecent sexual objects, only to be brought out from under a shirt at home, Mardi Gras, or a good topless bar. You have reinforced the public belief that breasts are only meant for a man’s pleasure. But the primary function of the breast is for milk production.

What exactly do you have a problem with concerning breastfeeding in public? Are you really that concerned with seeing a little bit of tit flesh while you dine? Why are you looking, anyway? It’s pretty easy to tell when a woman is about to breastfeed – why not notice and then make the conscious choice to go back to your own meal and conversation with friends and not dwell on it. Or are you more upset that the baby is getting closer to a breast than you have lately?

Because of people like you, many women feel uncomfortable breastfeeding in public, leading them to bring a bottle if their baby is hungry. That bottle may be pumped milk, but more likely they’ll just grab some of the formula given to them in their promotional diaper bag from the hospital. I’ll bet many moms choose to give up breastfeeding entirely due to the fear they have developed of feeding their child in public. After all, who wants to stay cooped up in their house for a year? Good going there, Bill: take away an infant’s best source of food – providing antibodies, protection against diabetes, obesity, SIDS, and a possible increase in intelligence – all because you can’t control your ability to stop staring at a breast.

Were we to ever have that hypothetical lunch, Bill, there’s a good chance my daughter would need to eat during our time together. I can guarantee you that were you sitting right across the table from me, you’d see less breast than you would by walking across a college quad on a hot day.

You really screwed up, Bill. Now do the right thing, admit you’re wrong, and publicly support a woman’s right to breastfeed in public. I don’t have a soapbox big enough to get the message out, but you do.

Sincerely,
A mom

************

I also wanted to draw everyone’s attention to this documentary I found on YouTube, called Formula for Disaster. It’s put together by UNICEF and discusses the impact that formula marketing has had on the Philippines. In only a short amount of time, breastfeeding rates in the Philippines has dropped to a record low, mainly because of the media push for formula.

Many of these women actually believe that formula will make their kids into geniuses and grow faster, because that’s what the advertising tells them. Health professionals are wined and dined to promote formula, and women are told that their own milk is not good enough. Forget that many of the poorer women can’t afford this stuff, and that water supplies are often questionable.

Who makes this formula? American companies. (Primarily Nestle, the worst offender out there.) They’re raking in huge profits for a product that is of lower quality, using outrageous claims that you wouldn’t see here, but people there believe.

It’s an eye opening documentary that I think everyone needs to see. Here’s part one, and parts two, three, four and five can be viewed on You Tube. It’ll take about 20 minutes total.

And to clarify: as I’ve said before, I’m not against formula. I had to use it with Cordy. There are situations where it is necessary, and there are women who can’t breastfeed. When used properly, it can be lifesaving. But the marketing tactics used by these companies can be underhanded, and not enough support is given to women during the early days of breastfeeding, when it is difficult and painful, and easy to give up.



The Cat Who Wouldn’t Leave

Saturday evening, Aaron mowed the backyard, which hadn’t been mowed for, oh, weeks. The grass isn’t growing, and there was no sense breaking out the mower just to cut the weeds. Anyway, as he was mowing, he noticed a feral cat hanging around the backyard. At one point he called me to the door and said, “That cat isn’t leaving the yard! She acts like it’s her yard!”

He walked towards her, but she ran from him, yet refused to leave. We just shrugged it off, thinking she was some weird cat who happened to like our yard.

And then today, I walked out into the backyard, looking inside the play barn and noticing Aaron forgot to move it and mow there. And then a bit of fur catches my eye.

Suddenly I know why the cat refused to leave the yard. And it’s a good thing Aaron didn’t move the play barn.


It makes sense – our yard is completely fenced, making it a good hideout from predators. And the play barn is a nice shelter from hawks. Guess she thought we were a good hideout for her family. I have to respect her as a mom – she picked a good spot.

Now what in the world are we going to do about these five kittens? The mother in me has already determined that they will not be moved or taken from their mom, especially this young. Their eyes aren’t even open yet. (But they’re already doing that adorable kitten hiss when I peek in the window. So cute!) She took too much care in finding a good spot for them for me to rip them away from her.

So I guess for now I’m going to buy some cheap cat food so she doesn’t have to spend all her time hunting for food. Maybe we can tame her down enough that we can move the whole family to a nice farm somewhere? There’s no way we’re keeping any of them – we have too many living things to take care of as it is.



More Terrifying Than Any Horror Movie

Today started out like a normal morning. Cordy was walking up and down the stairs, pulling every known toy from her room to clutter up the downstairs. Mira was on my lap in the living room, Aaron was on the couch.

I heard Cordy at the top of the stairs, knowing she was getting ready to come back down again. And then I heard the thump. The first of many. And a squeaky screech after the first thump.

The stairs. She’s falling. Oh God, she’s falling.

Aaron and I locked eyes very briefly and we both jumped up. I quickly set Mira back down in the chair and turned to the stairs, just in time to see Cordy tumbling down the last five or six steps. Tumbling head over heels, then barrel rolling, limbs tangled in each other, her little body finally hit bottom with a dull thud. That single second it took us to get to her felt like an eternity, as she didn’t make any noise in that moment.

Aaron immediately swept her up in his arms, asking, “Cordy, are you OK?” Finally, after what seemed like forever, she cried. Cries of fear more than cries of pain. She continued to cry hard for a few minutes, then switched from daddy’s arms to mommy’s arms.

I continued to ask her if she was OK, and then she said, in such a tiny voice, “Rocket…” I looked up the staircase to see her Rocket toy (from Little Einsteins) about 2/3 of the way up. Aaron retrieved Rocket for her, and she hugged the hard plastic toy tight. A little more time passed, and she stopped crying. Clearly still stunned, but she showed no signs of injury. At that point she tried to push her luck, “Cake? Ice cream?” We laughed a little at that point, realizing she was OK.

I’ve never been so scared in my life. In that one brief moment, hearing her hit each step on the way down, seeing those last few tumbles, I worried I had lost my Cordy, less than a week before her third birthday. Holding her tight at the bottom of the stairs, I couldn’t help but cry. I was shaking uncontrollably. My hands moved all over her, checking for any bumps, running my hands through her mass of curls and wiping away her tears.

She’s fine. Even though she fell down 13 stairs, she doesn’t show any signs of the fall. I don’t know if she’s been paying attention to her daddy’s stage combat falls and rolls training, or if she just got lucky. I can’t begin to say how thankful I am that she wasn’t hurt. We had no reason to suspect that this would happen. Cordy has been going up and down those stairs for months. We’ve gone over stair safety over and over. Sometimes I can hear her chanting our manta as she walks down the stairs: “slow….careful…” She knows to hold the rail.

I don’t know what went wrong today. Maybe she forgot the rules for just a moment. But a moment is all it takes. It’s amazing how fragile life seems in those moments. I hope it never happens again, and we’ll be revisiting the topic of stair safety, too. Because I never want to feel that sickening, frightening, heart-in-my-throat feeling again.



Backup on the South Side of Town

On this crisp, bright Sunday morning, traffic is unusually heavy in one part of town. It’s bumper to bumper on the living room carpet.

I’d avoid this area if at all possible in your daily commute. Recommended alternatives are the kitchen linoleum or for the more adventurous, the stairs. Another alternative is the toy box, which is completely empty of traffic.


This traffic jam brought to you by Cordy.


Haiku Friday: Sleep Is But A Dream

Haiku Friday

Husband snores loudly
Cat meows, Mira kicks me
My nighttimes lack sleep

Now it is silent
Finally I fall asleep
BEEP BEEP BEEP! Shoot me.

Eyes show weariness
The curse of the light sleeper
Coffee fills the void

Thanks to those who played along last week – can’t wait to see this week’s crop of haiku! If you want to join us this week, click the button above for all of the details.

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