Pumping & Vlogging

This blog is about to get an update, as I'm almost exclusively pumping with baby #2. Beegee has a high arched palate, making a strong latch close to impossible, therefore I now own 4 breast pumps and am renting one more. *sigh*
I'll be creating and uploading videos showing how to get start pumping, how to size your breastshields, back-to-back reviews of various breast pumps, etc.

Well, this time I *was* expecting!

I'm pregnant again! 9 weeks along, as of yesterday.

And I had a hilarious conversation with my midwives (we'll see if I keep them, based on these interactions):

Initial prenatal visit:
Me: I know within 24hrs of my conception date- I was tracking and know when I ovulated.
Midwife: Okay, good to know. It looks like you're about 4 weeks pregnant.
Me: Um, not based on my conception date.... I'm closer to 6wks.
Midwife: *blows me off completely*
Me: Riiiiiight.


Ultrasound visit, 2 weeks later:
Ultrasound Tech: Well, you're pretty early so I'm not sure we'll get anything clear.
Me: Well, a) I intentionally came in with a full bladder to make it easier, and b) I'm farther along than my record shows.
Tech: Hmmm, that full bladder really seems to be helping..... hey, it looks like you're farther along than we thought!
Me: You mean, I'm a little over 8wks, like I said I was?
Tech: Yeah..... looks like 8wks 4days. Did you ovulate from your right ovary?
Me: Not sure.... wait, yes I did. I remember the cramp from it!
Tech: Yeah, you seem like someone who knows their body pretty well.
Me: Can you tell the midwife that? LOL

Gender Norms, Feminism, and Parenting the Boyest Boy Who's Ever Boyed

I have known since I was a child that my first child would be a girl. A little witch to follow in my footsteps and learn to cook and to bake and to train horses and change a tire and sew a sweet dreams pillow. I have known this since I was a child.

Then I got pregnant.
"Der mentsh trakht un Got lakht."
Man plans and God laughs.

I found out about my pregnancy at about 4 weeks. 

Around 6 weeks, I started having dreams. Simple dreams, message dreams. 

I was sitting in the pasture at my first house, my baby boy next to me on a blanket. 

A few weeks later, I held my little boy as we walked through a park. 

A few weeks later, my mother (deceased) talked to me about raising boys. 

Yes, Universe, I got the picture. 

So, I wasn't surprised when my son mooned the ultrasound tech at 20 weeks, flashing his little testes and penis as clearly as an ultrasound can possibly show. 

I wasn't surprised. 

Just devastated.

I cried hysterically the entire way to the car, my husband supporting me as I stumbled, eyes so swollen I could barely navigate the stairs. 

For days, I cried my goodbyes to the little girl I'd wanted, and prepared to raise a boy. 

Then, one day, I read an article about how in some ways it was 'easier' to raise girls when you're a feminist- their struggles will be the same, their fights, etc- but raising boys as a feminist is harder, and, the author argued- even more necessary. She pointed out that these days, girls are raised to be allowed  a leeway for 'toughness,' and 'tomboyishness,' that many of us weren't. But boys don't get the same leeway- they're still expected to be manly men who don't cry or show emotion- unless it's to their partners later, when they're expected to be sensitive feminist gentlemen. Um, wut?

Gloria Steinem sums it up best: 

So I vowed to raise my son more like I'd raise a daughter.Instead of choosing a bunch of blues for him and monster trucks, I continued to ask for gender-neutral clothes. Unsurprisingly, I still received a lot of BOYBOYBOYLOOKATMEIMABOY stuff, and little of it I kept- But I also put him in pink cloth diaper covers, tie-dyed shirts, etc. The goal was to encourage whatever he liked, whether it was monster trucks, ballet, or both.

The goal was- and is- to raise a boy who understands privilege from all of the places in which he experiences it (let's face it, as a white male in an upper middle class home who will be well-educated, he's probably going to have a lot of it. I can't speak yet for if he'll be more than an ally to the LGBTQ+ community, but he's got a lot of other privilege markers), and can be an ally to all of the communities with which he interacts. 

To that end, my son (31/2 as of this writing) knows that most boys have penises, and most girls have vaginas, but that we have friends who are exceptions, and that you're a boy if you say you're a boy, and a girl if you say you're a girl, or you can be neither. He knows that if he's not sure, he should ask, "Do you like being called a boy or a girl better?" to respect peoples' gender identity. 

He knows that some boys have long hair (he does) and some girls have short hair. He knows that some boys wear nail polish and bows, and some girls ride motorcycles (his mommy does), and that there's no such thing as a 'boy toy' or a 'girl toy' because anyone can use any toy. 

He knows that he's allowed to cry and no one will ever tell him to, "man up," or that "boys don't cry-" or if they do, his mommy will set them straight. He knows he's not allowed to tell girls that they can't do something because they're girls, and that he can do anything he wants, short of giving birth, and technology might get there one day. 

Yes, my son is the Boyest Boy Who's Ever Boyed. He loves all things mechanical, and takes them apart obsessively. He wants to be a mechanic, and go to a nearby STEM school because, "they'll teach me to fix cars and motorcycles". I let him pick out most of his clothes, and his t-shirt drawer is full of monster trucks, Lightning McQueen, motorcycles, and anything else that has an engine. But he also sometimes chooses tie-dye, loves to wear his kilt and stick-on earrings, and gets mad if I smear his toenail polish while painting. My boy who hates when people mistake him for a girl (long hair and earrings will do that), but has learned to say, "Thank you, I'm a boy."

I'm raising the Boyest Boy Who's Ever Boyed... but that Boy still says that girls can do anything boys can do, that his mommy rides a motorcycle, and his Max loves to cook, and all of our friends should be able to get married like Mommy & Max are, no matter who they love. 

I'm raising the Boyest Boy Who's Ever Boyed, who asks before giving hugs or touching his friends, who expects to be asked by adults before being grabbed/tickled/ hugged/picked up and enforces his, "No," with confidence that mommy will back him up because touch requires consent- always and at all ages. I'm raising a boy who believes that #blacklivesmatter, and that if someone asks him to keep a secret from mommy or Max, that that person is almost certainly making a bad choice and mommy needs to know about it.

I'm raising the Boyest Boy Who's Ever Boyed who loves dirt bikes and dancing, who hates to get his hands dirty but likes working on cars, and who insists on helping me bake. My boy who loves books and reading and being gentle with pets and rough-housing with mommy and having tea parties with her- and anyone else who'll sit down long enough.

I'm raising the Boyest Boy Who's Ever Boyed, who understand that he needs to use his words about his feelings, to tell me when he is hungry, angry, lonely, tired, or just needs a hug. Who knows that he won't be punished for any of those things, but that identifying and articulating his emotions is hard, but gets him what he needs a lot faster. 

I'm raising the Boyest Boy Who's Ever Boyed, my feminist boy who I love so much more than that imaginary daughter who's never sat on my lap, never rubbed dirty hands on my clean work clothes, never kissed my cheek, never screamed in my face for no reason, never looked up at me with a 100watt smile and said, "Guess what? I love you, Mommy!"

The Stuff Nobody Told Me About Mommy-ing

Everyone likes to tell you about the sweet stuff about becoming a mother, about how your life is forever changed (they forget to mention that one of the major changes is a complete lack of privacy for the next 20-some-odd years), and you'll never love anyone else in the world like you do your baby (until the 18th diaper blowout of the day on the one day you are already running on 2 hours sleep and have a major meeting scheduled).

• After a vaginal birth, you'll bleed for several days. Complete with huge blood clots the size of your newborn baby's head. Yes, it's normal. No, you're not dying. Yes, you'll wonder about that at least briefly the first time you see one. They're scary. 
• Bonding may not be instant. It doesn't mean you won't bond. When I first looked at my son, I remember thinking, "You'd better be a Rhodes Scholar or some shit, kid, to be worth all of this." Now, I am completely in love with him, but it took 2 months and some good medications. Other women took a few days, or even longer than I did. 
• Speaking of which, PPD (Post Partum depression) is a thing. A very real thing. And even if you think you won't be prone to it, you might. You are NOT failing your child by asking for help. And it doesn't just manifest as thoughts of hurting yourself or your baby. That's crap. Often, it manifests as anxiety, feeling overwhelmed, terror that something will happen to the baby, inability to bond, etc etc. Basically, if YOU feel like something is "off,", talk to your OB or Midwife at your 2 week checkup. Having PPD does not make you a bad parent. Nor does it mean that you will never love or bond with your baby. I am living proof otherwise. Edit: If you go on meds for PPD, as I did, please check to be sure that they are compatible with breastfeeding if you're doing so. Even OBs and midwives mess this one up occasionally, as mine did!
• There will be moments when you resent your child, even hate them. There will be moments when you want to scream at them and even hit them- even while they're tiny, helpless infants. In the tribal cultures in which humans evolved, new moms were never alone, and there was always someone to take the baby and help with it so you could go pee, or eat, or even take a Gods-blessed nap. American moms don't have that. We're expected to go it alone, without ever dropping our adoration of our beautiful bundles of baby joy. That's unreasonable. The moments when you hate your child will come. Let them. Walk out of the room, even if they're crying. Trust me, your baby is better off alone for the 20 minute than with a mommy who's at the end of her rope. 
• Carry a small diaper bag. Babies are heavy. You don't have to carry a suitcase around as well. If you're wandering around, all you really need is 1-2 diapers, and small package of wipes, a change of shirt for baby, a bottle if you use one, a small baby blanket, and maybe a toy, pacifier, or small changing station cover. (I carried one of the little fold-up covers that fit into a purse-sized bag, but usually just wiped down the changing table with a wet wipe rather than dig it out of my bag). Reserve your giant bag of OMG-I-Can-Survive-A-Major-World-Disaster. Keep a spare shirt for yourself and your partner in that bag. Trust me. Spit-up happens.
• Breastfeeding isn't always easy, but it is not supposed to hurt. Find a lactation consultant. Pay them if necessary (but your insurance probably will, even if you're on Medicaid), but for Goddess' sake, find one and talk to them. Have them evaluate your baby's latch and your nursing style. Ask questions. Get help. Most new moms have never even seen breastfeeding before they're expected to do it perfectly. Find a local breastfeeding group or LaLecheLeague. They will help you. 
• On the other side of that, if you cannot breastfeed for some reason, don't let anyone shame you. Formula is not as good as breastmilk and we all know it- however, entire generations were raised on it, and we're in pretty good shape. Formula isn't perfect, but it is good enough. No one gets to shame you for the choices you make for yourself and your baby. 
• Other moms- and even people without kids- will judge you, no matter what you do. Take a deep breath and deal with it. Someone will always be upset about what you did or didn't do with your baby. Repeat after me: All of those people can shove it. They are not raising your child in your life, and they can all shove off. 

Edit: Additions suggested by other moms

Birth is disgusting. You may very well poop in the process. Don't worry, it's normal. If you're having a waterbirth, they'll tell you to bring a fishnet to scoop it out. That's how normal it is. 

Speak up for yourself or have an ally there who can help you. Don't feel bad about demanding the birth experience you want. Doctors and nurses are jerks sometimes, and forget that patients/moms are people, and that their bad attitudes (if they have one) can leave scars on your birth experience. Also, you have the right to kick anyone out of the room- your doctor, your partner, that rude nurse, your mom... anyone. And they are required to obey, including your doctor. 

Many hospitals have delivery food. Yes, you can use it. yes, it's safe to eat during labor (unless you're certain you're having a c-section. Some hospitals won't let you because of that possibility, but it's dumb to ask you to basically run a marathon without giving you fuel. Bring a cooler and claim it's for your partner. After, order food if you want, or ask people who want to come see you and the baby to bring whatever food you're craving. Trust me, they'll be glad to. Everyone wants a way to help you but no one knows how to without being intrusive. 

Stress incontinence happens- your PC muscles won't be as strong as they used to be, and you can pee a little from sneezing, jumping, running, etc. Kegels will help... eventually.

Speaking of which, you're going to hurt for days afterwards, most likely. Someone women are up and wandering around within hours, while others are exhausted and in pain for days. It's not a competition- react the way your body needs you to, and don't let anyone guilt you into doing otherwise. My midwives told me to plan to be completely useless for 2 weeks afterwards... so I prepped freezer crockpot meals and stocked up on laundry detergent and other non-perishables so I had to do as little as possible with a newborn. I also allowed my friends to come and help me, they did basic chores i hurt too much to do, held the baby so i could go pee, etc. They loved feeling like they'd helped, and I loved not having to sweep and do dishes while still hurting!

"If you have had a history of drug use in the past and are sober, I would seriously recommend keeping that information to yourself (despite the fact that this is antithetical to good care.) My after experience was awful because I was honest even though I hadn't used drugs (or smoked or drank since I became pregnant) for a long time." 
(Providers freak out about the idea of drugs/alcohol around babies and seem to assume you'll automatically fall back into any of your worst habits, and can be pretty nasty and judgmental over it. If you are safely sober/clean, this may not be the best time to disclose... as antithetical as that may be to good care, normally.)

Your sex drive may nose-dive while pregnant/breastfeeding. or it may ramp up. There is nothing wrong with either response. both are normal. 

Are You Okay?

This is my rant at both sides of the free range vs. helicopter parenting wars.

You'll probably be offended. Sorry not sorry.

Now that you've had your caveat, let's get on to the ranting.

I hate it when parents say, "Man up, you're okay!" after a child falls and hurts themselves. Especially boys. Consider what you're teaching your son: "don't admit that you're hurt, don't ask for help or comfort when you're in pain. You're a man, so man up." Consider for a minute how that translates to adulthood.
Ladies, ever been irritated that your husband is clearly hurting or upset about something but won't talk to you about it/can't admit it? Well, here is where it starts, folks. Consider not teaching your child that it isn't okay to be hurt.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the folks who run screaming to their children, patting them down with anxious hands every time they trip and stumble. Newsflash: kids model their reactions off of yours. Your precious baby is probably not that fragile, but you've taught them to freak out every time they fall down. Stop it. Calm down, they aren't going to die over a skinned knee. If you calm down, they will, too.

Bonkers was running headlong through IKEA one day when he was about 16mos old. Full sprint, and fell sprawled into the concrete walkway- face-first. 4 women went rushing over to him, but I waved them all back. I knelt down and asked calmly, "Hey dude, you okay?"
"I'm okay!" and he was off again.
One woman exclaimed over how tough he was, "but little boys are like that."
I looked her in the eye and responded, "I should hope my daughter would be like that, too. Kids are as tough as you let them be."

I ask Bonkers if he's okay. It lets him make that call- it teaches him to evaluate himself and his injuries, filter the information through the pain (assuming there is pain), and make a decision. If he says, "yes," then he runs off. (If there's blood, I'll probably snag him back and at least pour some water over it) If he says, "No," or starts crying, well, then, he's actually hurting and it's time for the Magic Mommy's Lap Comfort of Amazing, and whatever other first aid is appropriate (currently, band-aids fix everything).
He has learned that if he's hurt, comfort is available and he will not be shamed. He has learned to evaluate and respond. He has learned that I trust him to make his own evaluation of it. He has learned a skill that most adults don't have: responding to a crisis, even a teeny-tiny one.

Why I Refuse to 'Hide' Vegetables

There's a movement in the last several years to 'hide' vegetables in kids foods: veggie chips in fun colors, low-sugar organic jam, grated cauliflower in the mashed potatoes....

This type of picture in my Pinterest feed tends to instantly set me
to foaming at the mouth. 

No.
No.
No.
No, and no again.

I will not hide vegetables from my child and let him grow up thinking that he doesn't eat vegetables.

Bonkers is almost 3 now, and he knows that we have a rule: you try one bite of everything on your plate. Period.
And if I know there's something he loves and will eat to the exclusion of everything else (macaroni and cheese, anyone? He is a toddler, after all), he gets a tiny portion of that, small-to-normal portions of everything else, and he can have more mac-n-cheese after eating the rest of the food.

If I were a good blogger, I'd look up scary-sounding statistics about children thinking they aren't eating vegetables going on to really not eat them as adults and getting various terrifying diseases, but I'm too lazy for that.
And frankly, it's the principle of the thing.
My son doesn't make my menu. We do not make 'second' meals for him. He can eat what we eat, or he can go to bed hungry. Do I mostly avoid foods that he hates? Sure, as much as I avoid the ones I hate, or that my boyfriend does. Do we all occasionally eat stuff we aren't crazy about?
Yes, because that's what polite people do when someone has cooked for them.

Bonkers has also learned that regardless of how one feels about a meal, one thanks the cook for making it.
Because someone put in effort to feed your sorry butt, and you can at least give lip service to appreciating it.

Does that mean I'm a strict, mean, failing-at-attachment-parenting mommy?
Maybe, but let me show you juuuuuust how much I care.
_
Ok, there it is. See that blank space in the line above? That's my care.

See, here's the thing:
Bonkers' first non-breastmilk food was my finger dipped in real Japanese ramen, homemade by the lady who spoke enough English to understand my thank-you and to tell me my 4 week old son was adorable.
He goes to restaurants with us and eats what we eat- we don't do kids' menus. He eats Korean barbeque, Ethiopian injera soaked with the juice from lega tibs, sushi rolls, and (non-spicy) curries.

If I let him, would he eat nothing but chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, and french fries forever? Of course. He's 3. Toddlers are not known for their discriminating palates.

But I will be damned if I raise a child who thinks that he has the right to refuse the food made for him by anyone who went through the effort of doing so, for any reason short of impending anaphalaxis.

This is the same reason that, "Thank you," is a reflexive phrase in our house. Does he truly mean this short speech of gratitude at the age of 3? Of course not. Toddlers are, in their still-developing minds, entitled to everything they have ever wanted- much less needed.

Does that change the fact that he's learned that saying, "Thank you," makes Mommy smile and feel appreciated (and consequently, makes her a tad more likely to give him a bit more potato with his curry, and a bit less carrot)? Of course.

But in a world where both food flexibility and good manners seem to be sacrificed constantly on the altar of, "But let them choose," this is not a choice that my toddler gets to make.

When Jack & I Take Over the Department of Education

So Jack and I are redesigning the American education system. We're, um, having a little fun with it.

Overall Changes to the Education System:

• Parents are required to sign off on homework, tests, and any other paperwork that the teacher requires. (Signatures should be verifiable in some way) Failure to do so more than 5 times in one month will automatically require a parent-teacher conference. 3 required conferences in one school year will initiate a DFCS visit. (Guidance counselors should be empowered to cancel that visit in known special circumstances)
• Emphasis away from AP & IB programs and into dual-enrollment college courses
• Advanced courses whose curriculums allow should be available as online college courses
• Textbooks should be approved at a federal level so that rogue school systems may not teach local revisionist history or religiously biased curriculums, and so that school systems are not fleeced by textbook writers who publish 'new editions' every 2 years with no real new information (a common issue in both HS & college textbooks, for those unfamiliar with it)
• Peer tutoring should be available at all grade levels, by students 1-2 grades above, and for juniors/seniors in HS, should be made available through college students to take some of the pressure off of parents & teachers for extra help (I don't expect to understand my 16 year old's calculus homework, or for his overworked teacher to have time to tutor regularly... however, if he needs help, low-cost help should be available!)
• Technical schools should receive recognition as valid alternatives to 4-year colleges and funding should be treated as such
• Department of Health should be empowered to require school systems to acquire at least1/3 of their lunch foods from local (within-state or region) direct sources, specifically lower growers, not processors such as Sodexo. (Pizza sauce is not a vegetable, regardless of where the school system purchases it)
• Drastically lower the number of Federal employees within the Department of Education, redirect that funding to hiring more, better qualified teachers and offering incentives to States & Counties who give raises to their current teachers. (Is there anyone who will argue with me that we don't need more, better-qualified teachers? Bueller?)
• For all middle & high school teachers, student loans enter deferment status automatically upon hiring, and one year of student loans are forgiven for each year spent teaching full-time

High School Curriculum Changes

Note: This is currently designed for a 'block' system in which students have 4 classes per day for one semester, then another 4 classes per day for the next semester

9th Grade Required Courses:

• 2 study halls, one per semester- children shouldn't have to work harder and longer than their parents (8 hours of class, then up to 6 of homework is longer hours than my parents routinely worked.... how 'bout yours?)
• Choice of Basic Life Math or Algebra 1, depending on inclination/test scores/previous grades
• English 101
• Earth-Space Sciences (Basic Geology/Meteorology/Geography/Astronomy with focuses on practical application such as map-reading, how weather works, etc)
• PE
• Fine Art elective (music, art, theater, etc)
• Humanities/PE/Fine Arts Elective

10th Grade Courses

• Study Halls
• English Composition (everyone should know how to write a basic business letter/resume/etc)
• US History
• PE (every year, TYVM, exercise should be a normal part of kids' days)
• Biology
• Algebra/Geometry OR higher math elective (for those who took Algebra already)
• Driver's Ed/Auto Care (everyone should have hands-on driving instruction from a qualified instructor, as well as learning the basic skills of caring for your car)

11th Grade Courses

• Study Halls
• Western Civilization
• PE
• Sciences (Mostly basic understandings of Chemistry & Physics)
• Practical Application Elective (Agriculture, Horticulture, Metal Shop, Wood Shop, etc)
• Humanities Elective
• Home Economics 1 (everyone, male OR female, should know how to cook a meal, sew a button, etc!)

12th Grade Courses:

• Study Halls
• Eastern Civilization
• Government & Economics (because everyone should have a basic understanding of how their government works!)
• PE
• Life Skills (with critical thinking component, and skills like time management, budgeting, how a loan works, etc)
• Humanities Elective
• Elective- Fine Arts, Humanities, or Practical App depending on student's interests)

Humanities Elective Options:

• Interdisciplinary Perspectives
• African American History
• Philosophy
• Anthropology
• Sociology
• Psychology
• World Religions
• Individual languages/cultures (German, French, Spanish, Chinese, etc)

Math/Science Electives:

• Geometry
• Trigonometry
• Pre-Calculus
• Calculus
• Chemistry
• Physics
• Astronomy

Specific notes and caveats:

• If students reach a certain point excelling academically, joint college enrollment and/or college credit for their courses should be the default
• Empower guidance counselors to drop study halls, then electives if necessary for students who would like to take more advanced courses in any subject (like college counselors have the ability to change how courses are weighted against your major requirements)
• School administrators should work alongside and with guidance counselors to reduce their role as pure disciplinarians and give them a greater role in guidance and aid
• These changes will be implemented as appropriate to the state/county/municipality and within their budget. Not every school will be able to include every one of these electives, for example.

Lactation Cookies Recipe

I can't take credit for this, it was sent to me by 3 different friends. This is by Noel Trujillo and is featured on a TON of other blogs, websites, and cooking/recipe sites. This is my slightly modified version:

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Lactation Cookies by Noel Trujillo

By BridgetMarie on October 26, 2006

Photo by PixieFairy1981

37 Reviews

• 
• Prep Time: 15 mins
• Total Time: 27 mins
• Serves: 54, Yield: 4.5 dozen

About This Recipe

"This recipe is great for mothers who are breastfeeding. It helps to keep your milk supply up or increase your milk supply. Use more brewers yeast and oatmeal if you are wanting to increase your milk supply. You can use more chocolate chips if you like or any kind of chips."

Ingredients

• 1 cup butter
• 1 scant cup sugar
• 1 scant cup brown sugar
• 4 tablespoons water
• 2 tablespoons flax seed meal1 tablespoon fenugreek seed added at our house
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 2 cups flour- 1/2 white flour, 1/2 wheat flour at our house
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 3 cups oats
• 1 cup chocolate chips
• 3 tablespoons brewer's or nutritional yeast
  OPTIONAL VARIATIONS:Butterscotch chips instead of chocolate chips (our favorite variation! Add a pinch of cinnamon or nutmeg!)4 TB cocoa powder, 1/2 cup milk chocolate chips, 1/2 cup walnuts/pecans/almondsRaisins instead of chocolate chips
  Half butter & half nut butter for an extra shot of protein(I've made 4-5 batches of these and frozen them so that we have minimal work and maximum cookies after Damian comes, hence the need for variation)
  

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350°.
2. Mix the flaxseed meal and water and let sit for 3-5 minutes.
3. Beat butter, sugar, and brown sugar well.
4. Add eggs and mix well.
5. Add flaxseed mix, fenugreek, and vanilla, beat well.
6. Sift together flours, brewers yeast, baking soda, and salt.
7. Add dry ingredients to butter mix.
8. Stir in oats and chips.
9. Scoop onto baking sheet.
10. Bake for 12 minutes.
11. Let set for a couple minutes then remove from tray.
    
    

Random stuff update

Well, I'm almost done with the crazy nesting.

The house is more or less clean (just don't look behind the toilet in the bathroom... I can't reach there with this belly!), the bedroom has been moved around to accommodate the baby stuff, there's a ton of stuff waiting to go to the thrift store, and we're stocked up on almost everything we need. The freezer is getting full, including with frozen lactation cookie dough.

What do I still need to do?

• Stock up on pet supplies (cat litter, food for all of the pets)
• Wash the last of the baby clothes
• Order diapers
• Order a couple of nursing bras
• Make a Costco run for non-perishables and some more frozen meals
• Make muffin and bread dough for freezing

My body is slowing down, preparing for the upcoming marathon of labor. I can feel it- my pubis separating slowly (which makes it feel like my mons is perpetually slightly bruised, a weird feeling), my lower back is starting to have small cramps and reminders to care for it. My energy is slowing and turning inward, and I'm constantly hungry... the feeling of my body preparing for something that it knows will be intense work.

We're just over 2 weeks out from our due date.

MLK Day- Bringing it Home

One of our best friends is a beautiful Black man. It is a mind-boggling thing to realize that only a generation ago, not only could neither of us have dated someone Black, but we could not have taken him out to our favorite restaurants for his birthday. He could not have walked down the street with me as a companion, or sat down to a friendly lunch out with my husband.

As a child of the mid-1980's who grew up in a port city, I take racial freedom for granted. I took for granted that my schools were a gumbo of ethnicities. I take for granted that my favorite restaurant is owned by an interracial couple, and most of my other preferred ones will have white servers taking orders for tables of Black patrons. I take for granted my friend and her wife's interracial relationship, and my own ability to talk through the Chili cook-off hand-in-hand with my friend.

These are just normal parts of my life that I rarely even given them thought.

I like to think that my ability to take these thigns for granted is what Dr King hoped for a generation ago when he spoke to my parents' and their companions.

Of course, there is still room to grow, and progress which deperately needs to be made. Segregated Mardi Gras Societies in my hometown drove me away from the Balls I'd once enoyed, and knowing that my dear friend could not have accompanied me as an escort to the Ball given by one of my family members' Societies is a painful and infuriating reminder of that. Another family member's half-in-jest-all-in-seriousness comment before the 2008 elections that they were, "just going to vote for someone White," brought home to me just how close some of the need for progress is. Another family member baited me by continuing to tell racist jokes in my home, even after being asked not to.

Yet small steps, no matter how difficult, still move us closer to our goals. After my not-very-funny family member was asked to leave my home, I have never since heard a racist joke under my roof. I am open with my family about why I rarely return to my hometown for Mardi Gras, and my one Ball of the Mardi Gras season is that of the Order of Osiris, open to all, regardless of sexuality or ethnicity. I will never change another's mind through my own beliefs, but I can know that I will not be silent when I am confronted with even covert racism, and that because of that my friends and family may not so easily ignore their own.

I can walk down the street street now, holding hands with one of my dearest friends, his skin color irrelevant, and I take that for granted thanks to the thousands who worked, fought, were injured, and died in the name of equality. I owe to them my own efforts, however small they may be- and I owe them to my many friends and loved ones with whom I can openly socialize in ways my parents and grandparents could not have. Moreover, I owe it to my friends and loved ones who still are hurt by racism, overt and covert, where it continues to lurk.

Lastly, I owe it to my son, that he may find the entire concept an antiquated silliness, like the concept of women not voting or our gay friends' relationships being illegal.

Is it my fault?

My mother was an alcoholic.

No, AA/NA/Al-Anon friends, I'm not saying it wrong.

Was, as in she's already passed on.

What does this have to do with my baby/pregnancy blog?

A lot, actually.

Children have a capacity called, "magical thinking." Wikipedia defines it like this: "Magical thinking is causal reasoning that looks for correlation between acts or utterances and certain events. In religion, folk religion, andsuperstition, the correlation posited is between religious ritual, such as prayer, sacrifice, or the observance of a taboo, and an expected benefit or recompense. In clinical psychology, magical thinking is a condition that causes the patient to experience irrational fear of performing certain acts or having certain thoughts because they assume a correlation with their acts and threatening calamities.

"Quasi-magical thinking" describes "cases in which people act as if they erroneously believe that their action influences the outcome, even though they do not really hold that belief".^[1]"

Long story short, children have a tendency to believe that they can affect the outcome of a situation, even when they can't, really.

Example A: The child who says, "If I'm really, really good, dad will come back." You've seen statements like this in movies, most likely.

It's cute, when what they're saying is, "Step on a crack, break your mommy's back!" and then don't step on cracks for the remainder of the walk.

It's not so cute when they say, "If I had been better, mommy wouldn't have gone to jail."

"If I wish every single night on the first star for a year, then mommy will come home."

Sometimes, this bit of magical thinking isn't something we ever grow out of... how many of us have seen the TV or movie scene where the mean character breaks down and cries, "Why didn't my dad love me?! Was I bad?!"

Only it's not funny, when we realize how many people actually still harbor this fear on some level.

I did, for years.

If I had been better, would my mom not have needed to drink so much?

Was it because of me that she needed to?

Was it because of me that my parents got divorced?

Of course, intellectually, I know better. My mother was an alcoholic from high school on. She went to prison because she couldn't stop drinking and driving. They divorced because dad got tired of living with an alcoholic.

But deep down, there's still a little girl in the back of my head who asks, "Why didn't my mommy love me enough to be a good mom? Was I bad? Did I not deserve it?"

And it's for that little girl that I promised myself, years ago, that if I ever had a child, that his/her needs would come before anything else.

And it's for that little girl- until I hold my little boy in my arms and his needs become realities to me- that I will do it for my little boy.

Slowing down.... oops, I forgot that I suck at that.

So much for slowing down for the holidays....

Christmas Eve Eve:

Cleaned up front of house, bought and wrapped the last of the gifts, made rum cake, cranberry apple butter, and loaded mashed potatoes. Flea-treated pets and house to ensure no extra guests for Christmas.

Christmas Eve: Dry rubbed turkey, started ham glaze, made turkey stock, cornbread and biscuits, and sausage balls. Canned apple butter, put together dressing ingredients. Cleaned bathrooms, mopped flea stuff off of floors, washed sheets, and set up front of house for Misfits Dinner.

Took a brief nap.

Then D got home, and we ate in the car on the way to see a friend in the hospital, went to his dad's and saw family there, then had spaghetti dinner at his mom's. Were late to Midnight Mass, which didn't end until 12:30am (it actually starts at 10:30pm), and drove an hour home. Fell into bed.

Christmas Day:

Slept in 'til 9am, since it's our last child-free Christmas. Reheated sausage balls & apple cider, opened stockings. Showered, cleaned up, opened the rest of our gifts.

Started turkey, put together dressing, made chocolate pecan pie. Loaded car with gifts for D's family.

Had a fight about it.

Drove up to do Christmas with in-laws, ornament exchange, and gifts.

Were late leaving D's mom's house and had people at our house for Misfit's Dinner before we got home.

Got a darling friend to break into our house and let in our guests.

Entertained til midnight, then cleaned up before falling into bed.

Boxing Day:

Got up, took care of pets, made scones & sausage balls from leftover dough, drove to Chattanooga (~2hrs) to see D's son and spend the day with him.

Walked all over the TN Aquarium, had a fantastic time hanging out with in-laws and outlaws and meeting my stepson.

Had chai and chatted longer after everyone left.

Stopped at the hospital to see our friend again on the way home.

Arrived home about midnight and fell into bed.

.....and now, shockingly enough, my body has quietly informed me it's had enough of that nonsense, and it's going to get sick to ensure we spend a day in bed LOL

Belly pics!

We finally did a set of belly pictures, and I'm only 2 weeks behind in uploading them!

Priorities

Girl on Saturday wrote this timely post about The Life You Lead Every Day and who you really are.

I started to respond, and ended up writing an entire post instead.

Pregnancy is teaching me my limits, in a way that nothing else ever has.

Not 8mos on crutches while I was in the Navy, not even a broken collarbone, 2 surgeries, 3 weeks of bed rest, and 6 mos in a sling.

And I hate it.

I hate it I hate it I hate it!

I don't have limits, dammit!

Not Ms. Do All The Things!

But I do.

I have limited energy, no sex drive, terrible heartburn, insomnia, and oh yeah- a little person growing in my body who takes some offense to my idiotic schedule and refusal to rest or supply him with enough nutrition.

Shit.

I could ignore that for myself.... not so much for our child.

So I'm learning to cope.

• Lowering my number of obligations on a given day.
• Stretching out my to-do list by the week, not every day.
• Accepting help.
• Napping.
• Scheduling recharge time (those naps are a great example)

So what does that mean in concrete terms?

• No Winter Solstice Party this year- but participating in the church's ritual instead.
• Misfits' Christmas Dinner means I only cook 3 dishes, not my usual 'entire meal'. Also, paper plates this year. I can go back to being a rabid environmentalist on the 26th.
• Asking for help to come over and clean with me tomorrow and maybe help me cook.
• Only hitting 1-2 stores at a time while Christmas shopping, instead of my usual marathon of shopping, baking, creating, and wrapping in one day.
• Asking D for help, even when I feel guilty about it (the man works two jobs, I'm allowed to feel guilty even if I am pregnant!)
• Lowering my cooking standards, and eating frozen bagged meals once a week when I feel like crap.

But there are things too important to me to give up:

• Regular attendance at my church (um, I can haz support system?)
• Having a clean house
• Semi-regular social interaction with people who make me feel good
• My holiday traditions, such as Solstice Tea in honor of my Nana
• Continuing to be known as a good/thoughtful gift-giver

Priorities. We all have them. So what if mine are a little Martha Stewart-ish.... only without the jail time.

I officially suck at updates.

I'll try to work on it. Bug me. Seriously.

It's a boy!

We found out yesterday that we're definitely having a boy. I know some ultrasounds aren't very clear, but our little exhibitionist turned around and flashed us so clearly that D & I saw the outline of his testes & penis well before the nurse pointed them out.

So yeah- Damian Orion is due on February 2nd.

I won't pretend that I'm not a little disappointed- I've always wanted a daughter, and known for years that my first child would be a girl, but these results also weren't a surprise because I've been dreaming for months about the baby and he's always been clearly male-sexed.

Of course, this means that the vast majority of the clothes on our registry will be coming off. Between my friends and my next-door neighbor, we're going to be giving away clothes!

Registry advice needed

We have two different registries up now:

Our primary Amazon.com registry with everything we currently want

and the Target registry my relatives requested since they don't like online shopping.

However, Target's site is currently being infuriating, so here's no link at the moment.

Parents, please take a look through these and tell me if there's anything you couldn't live without that we've missed, or something there that you just never once used.

Be aware that the following items are missing because we've been told we're receiving them as gifts already:

• A pack'n'play
• A breast pump
• Dr Bronner's Natural Flow bottles

Lastly, please don't start shopping yet, unless it's for the stuff we'll need no matter what, like diapers. There's still some stuff we'll be receiving from friends that may come off the registry before we formally release it.

There was a lot of screaming...

I have the terrifying and amusing feeling that I may be having a conversation similar to this in February:

Snagged with pleasure from The Devil's Panties (It's not Satanic porn, honest)TM

Please?

Ok, I get it. My body is building another whole human being and that's a lot of work.

I also probably don't eat enough, so my body is probably pulling from its own (meager) stores to do it.

I get it.

But can I please stop feeling exhausted, vulnerable, and needy now?

Mrr?

Mississippi Ballot Initiative Would Define "Personhood" at Moment of Conception, Potentially Outlawing Abortion, Birth Control, and Emergency Contraception

So does this mean that in the ~10% of spontaneously aborted pregnancies, the mother could be charged with manslaughter because her body rejected the embryo?