The Weird Places I Find Myself.

Unless you've run across my blog on accident, just now, you already know that I'm weird. This weirdness plants me in some very hard to deal with situations. The most recent being that I wish I could find a doctor that spoke German so we could go over the German vaccine schedule. Then there's the whole "Germany uses different vaccines than we do" thing, and lets not forget that this is America and we have the best blah blah blah.
*cough*wereallydont*cough*
I am not an antivaxer. Do not take this the wrong way. I simply don't drink anyone's kool-aid.

It's really frustrating. I read this great article as soon as I found out I was pregnant on nutrition and exercise for pregnancy. It was concise, easily understandable, and sited research for every suggestion. It also suggested a glass of red wine and/or a dark beer at least once a week for mineral content. And it's not like I can just print it out and take it with me to my next appointment. They can't read it, they're not going to take my word for it, and google-translate is awefulsauce. I'm going to say "a glass of dark beer" and they're going to put the breaks on and give me some CDC report filled with fetal alcohol syndrome horror stories. Not my midwives, they're awesome, but most of the medical professionals I've met are really uptight about that kind of stuff.

I have never been so flustered. Even when I first moved back to the States and was struggling with our Bi-Polar societal norms (still working on finding all the invisible lines) I wasn't this flustered. At least then I could talk to some one and explain myself. I didn't need to prove that in Japan you take your shoes off by the door to keep the inside of your house clean. That was one google search away, and in English. Medical studies, not so much.

But hey! At least I found integrated medicine while on this wild goose chase. Maybe the pediatrician I choose will let me translate some of the stuff for him/her and happiness and rainbows.... hey I can be optimistic.

Scenes from a Marriage

You get two scenes today! Lucky you; either that or Jex has just been extra silly lately.

Scene 1: In the living room. I have just eaten the last of my expensive, but totally worth it, Bubbies pickles (they don't have corn syrup in them or vinegar, they are ligit pickles). The jar mostly full of brine sits on our rad new coffee table.

Jex: Pickle juice is ok to drink right?
Me: Yeah, it's just salt and water. Maybe some spices.
Jex: So it's like Gatorade but better!
Me: Yeah I guess so.
*A few minutes later while doing the dishes I hear this joyous announcement*
Jex: It's like a tasty ocean!!!



Scene 2: On the phone with my wonderful husband.

Jex: You have the cookie stuff ready for me?
Me: Yeah, it's in the freezer ready to be baked. How many did you need?
Jex: Not many, like 6 or 8.
Me: Ok, yeah there should be enough from the last batch of cookies I made.
Jex: Also I need you to find me a tupperware that has no friends.
Me: A tupperware that has no friends?!
Jex: Yeah, like one that isn't part of a set, and you wouldn't mind losing.
[I totally laughed at him, and will shamelessly continue to chuckle all day.]

Thoughts on the "Mommy Wars"

22 weeks! Yay!

So at this stage of pregnancy I'm trying to figure out important things like which pediatrician will treat me like a sentient being, if I should save for a pump, and where to put the baby gear. I do know that most my plans at this point will go flying into hyperspace as soon as the little human is around, but it doesn't hurt to have a plan.

One of the things I'm trying to decide is whether or not to spend the time to make a nursing cover. In this endeavor I have run face first into what is affectionately called 'the mommy wars.' Yeah sure I saw that formula commercial, but I thought it mostly summed up parenting forum trolls not the more reasonable masses. Honestly, I'm a little shocked at how quickly and sharply people get their nickers in a twist.
I saw a response post on one of those fancy popular blogs, about breast feeding with a cover and how the bloggess' children stopped tolerating it at about 4 months old, that was well written. The woman didn't point fingers or call names. She simply stated some scientific facts that she'd read somewhere, shared an experience she had with a nursing mother in a restaurant and her 7 year old daughter, and said that that she didn't understand why covering was so hard unless the kid had gotten into a no cover routine at home. Simple, straight forward, not trying to be a jerk. She had some 'scientific facts' and was trying to join the conversation. Nice.
Not so nice were the majority of the responses. It was like she had dropped a nice bit of troll bait in the comment box and they came rolling in from every corner of the internet. Some were trying to be nice, oh they were trying, but for the most part people just let their comments fly because they were confident and convicted. Being me I've been contemplating the phenomenon much more than I probably need to.

It frustrates me because I don't deal with this crap. Arguing over the internet is about as effective as writing a letter with an apple. Because of my aversion to trolls I don't feel like I can join any of these mommy forums (I'd get too upset at people treating others with disrespect). Which frustrates me more because, look a goldmine of knowledge and experience that might help me... but the floor is made entirely of fresh manure and broken glass, and wouldn't you know I'm wearing moccasins.

Over the years, and surprisingly mostly in the last 10ish weeks, I have lost a lot of my tolerance. Maybe that's why there are so many women who jump on each other when one of them states that something that's a personal choice is 'the worst possible thing.' Our tolerance for most everything gets eaten by our unborn children or something?
Really though, I'm kind of afraid I'm going to be the jerk. If it's the truth I'm probably going to blurt it out. I see it going kinda like this:

Random Stranger (RS): "You need to cover up or go to the bathroom, your boob is making us lose our appetite."
Me: *blinks at person owlishly* "Is this really happening right now?"
RS: "You should have some courtesy for the people around you!"
Me: "Like the courtesy you're showing me?" *looks down at nursing baby* "You could see more of my boobs in a V neck that what you're seeing now!"
RS: "That's not the point."
Me: "Then what is the point?"
RS: "Just please, cover up or go to the bathroom to do that."
Me: "Would you like to eat your meal in the bathroom?"
[this is where I imagine it devolving into sarcasm/ cursing/ or pissing off RS badly enough they either leave or bring restaurant management into the (non)issue]

I don't see myself as a judgmental person. My husband tells me I'm too accepting most the time. I don't really care if someone has an opinion different than mine (though I do get mad when people blow off strong evidence in favor of their own beliefs, that's annoying). We do our best to understand and move on. Even better, I have some one to ask questions of when I don't understand something that comes from that vein of thought.
Maybe it's a flaw, but the moment some one tells me that I'm wrong, need to be like them, and they're going to talk at me (notice the word 'at') till I concede to their correctness I turn into something straight out of Labyrinth; a sarcastic stone wall. Which will, in all likelihood, only add gasoline to the raging fires of the 'mommy wars' and that's the one thing I really don't want to do.

Till next time my lovelies!
~ The light heart lives long.