Dem Boobs, Dem Boobs, Dem... Dry Boobs.

My boobs have been having an identity crisis lately.  It's a pretty significant one, I think.  The subject comes up daily, sometimes multiple times a day.  I try to avoid them, so that I can avoid that uncomfortable silence that inevitably follows their twin chorus of "Hi, we're your boobs, and we're having an identity crisis."  Seriously, how do I respond to that?


Complete avoidance is impossible, though.  Our interactions are something like this:

Me:  Hi boobs.  How are ya today?

Boobs: We're sad.  Look, we're looking down at the floor with our pointy nipple-eyes.  We're having an identity crisis.


Me:  Oh?  *uncomfortable silence*  Uhh... Umm... Why?  You're boobs.  Don't you generally do... boob things?  Like hang out?  I try not to put you in a bra, so you've got way more freedom than most of your other boob friends.


Boobs:  Yeah, we know.  And really - we appreciate that freedom.  Our problem is that we're dry.  


Me:  Oh, well I can fix that!  Here, have some nourishing lotion with vitamin E!


Boobs:  No, not like that.  See, we see you feed the baby, and we know that the milk you're giving him isn't from us.  Because, you know, we're dry.  This is the fault line for our shattering identity earthquake.  We mean, logically we know that you're giving him artificial milk because you're taking a couple of medications that you really can't go without right now, but we feel cheated.  We dried up suddenly and traumatically, and we're quite upset about it.


Me:  Oh.  Yeah, I can totally see that.  Oh look, brain and conscience are here!  Let's get them in on this discussion!


Brain:  Hey Boobs!  Lookin' good today, ladies!  You've got some super-hot circulatory action goin' on.  No worries, you can totally thank me later.


Boobs:  *stares*  Really, Brain?  Really?


Conscience:  So, I totally didn't mean to eavesdrop, Boobs, but I heard everything you said, and I'm right there with you.  I feel SO GUILTY about all of it, your drying up and Jackie taking meds and Brain just being brain... it makes me want to cry.  I even feel guilty about the fact that Leg went off and got herself broken, which is why you dried up to begin with!  It's totally ALL MY FAULT.


Brain:  Oh shit.  Look at what ya'll did.  Conscience is crying now.


Me:  Okay, hold it.  This is not going to turn into a three ring circus.  Brain, do you have anything useful to contribute?


Brain:  Well, that depends.  I do, out of deference for Boobs, go ahead and automatically make their pointy nipple-eyes hard every time the baby cries, as well as make them ache.  You know, 'cuz they're boobs.  That's what they're made for, amirite?


Me:  Right on.  You just keep on keepin' on.  Not like any of us could persuade you to do otherwise.  Conscience, is there any reasoning with you on this one?


Conscience:  No.  *sobs*  I'M SO SORRY ABOUT EVERYTHING!  I DESERVE TO DIE IN A FIRE!


Me:  *mutters*  Drama Queen.  *looks at Brain*  Can you take her out of here?  I'll deal with you guys later.


Boobs:  Now do you understand, though?  We're boobs.  We were put on your body primarily to nurse your offspring.  Sexual pleasure and looking awesome are just fringe benefits.  You let us do our job briefly, and then it was abruptly and traumatically taken away from us.  Now we're bereft.  What are we to do?


Me:  Oh.  Well, I... uh... *clears throat*  I'm really sorry.  I... I got nothin' else.  Can I offer you that nourishing lotion with vitamin E as a consolation prize?


And with that, my friends, my Boobs simply shake their heads sadly and wander away, until the next time I feed the baby.  Then the cycle starts all over again.

Logically, I know that relactation is not one of my most brilliant ideas.  Oh, I have no doubt that I could achieve it - and fairly easily, at that.  But what would it accomplish?  I would need to wean off of three different meds, and risk at best some very painful and at worst some very dangerous consequences.


Bug, I suspect, couldn't really care less.  There's still ample bonding and skin-to-skin during feedings.  Also, he's leading himself to solids, so it may be a non-issue here very shortly.  Health-wise, it's a non-issue completely.  


So where is the sense in all of this wistfulness and mourning over our lost breastfeeding relationship?  Why can't Boobs just suck it up, rub some dirt in it, and move on?  Why can't Conscience just get over her guilt?  Why can't Brain stop leading the mutiny on the bounty?


Because - breast is best.  For all parties involved.  People will try to placate us with "Well, at least you got *some* breastfeeding time in," but that won't help.  I don't disagree, and I *AM* thankful for the time we had.  But I would be a dirty liar if I said I didn't wish with every bottle of formula I make that it had been longer.  That we were still doing it today.

I learned to forgive myself with Kinder Major - she wasn't breastfed at all.  I will learn to forgive myself with Bug, too.  It's just going to take time.  Time, and a lot of "why relactating isn't a good idea" talks with Boobs.


Ladies, don't take your Boobs for granted.  And for those of you who haven't/can't/didn't (for whatever reason) breastfeed who are having similar talks with your Boobs... well, best of luck to you.  I hope you can make more headway with yours than I have with mine.

Blending culture, religion, tradition and myth.

Today is Easter for many people out there.  For others, it's the end of Passover.  For another demographic, it's just another spring Sunday afternoon.

What is a mother who straddles firmly the fence between catholicism and paganism to do when trying to explain the implications placed on this day?

Well, I'll tell ya what I've come up with.  In years past, we've gone to Mass, and then combined that with an egg hunt, baskets filled with the traditionally symbolic items (eggs, grass, rabbits, chicks, etc.) and celebratory foods that nod to traditions spawned generations ago.

Mass is explained this way:  In Christianity, it is the belief that the Lord Jesus sacrificed his own life, so that things in the world could change and those who came after him would have it better than he did.  While many people take the idea of him rising literally, it is (and has always been) explained more figuratively in our home.  He did not rise from the grave like a holy zombie (as much as I love the silly zombie imagery,) rather, his name rose and his reputation became greatly esteemed, while his soul was greatly smiled upon by God for his work done on earth. 

The brightly colored eggs, the chocolate eggs, the images of the Easter bunny, baby chicks (Why hello there, Mr. Marshmallow Peep, may I show you the inside of my mouth?) grass in the baskets, even right down to the tradition of what we wear on Easter - all of that is rooted in pagan practices and beliefs, and those traditions are simplified and explained, as well.

We even discuss our Easter dinner.  The cultural implications of the ham (first hams from the last season's slaughter would have finally been cured on Easter,) the lamb (that one's pretty obvious,) the roast beef (spring is calving season, which means that one could afford to slaughter a cow for the first of the year's beef needs,) and the fresh, young fowl hold meaning in many different ethnic subgroups.  We talk about the bigger picture and the similarities between ALL of these beliefs, not just my two.  We speak of how the Hot Cross Bun originated and how well-traveled the idea behind it is.

While she's a bit young yet, I plan on eventually incorporating the specific elements of the overlapping aspects of the Christian, Jewish, and Pagan mythoses, and working that into  some traditions of our own.  Not sure how or what exactly, but it's something I'm looking forward to.

The end desired result for me is a child that is sensitive to the anthropological and spiritual happenings around her, who is gently taught how to lead a life with an open mind and a receptive heart.  Easter is not the only holiday on which to nurture that loving attitude, merely the first one of the year. :)

May all of my readers be blessed today and every day, and may the growing spring bring growing love and contentment. :)