Ever since my little bundle of turbo joy has joined us in the world, I’ve experienced a whole new world of “self-definition.”  It used to be just:

• I am a girl
• I’ve lived in all the Northwest states
• I like to write
• I don’t like to play sports (except volleyball and MarioKart)
• The boys of U2 are *my* boys

And then I entered college.  A whole new realm of choices:

• Living on campus
• Being on the full meal plan
• Not a suck-up to professors
• Back seat note taker
• Not enrolled in the Ring-by-Spring program
• Middle-of-the-semester fader
• Humanities major (i.e. never going to get a real job and chose a major simply because they made me and so I pooled my credits together and made up an interdisc.  I was two classes short of a double major, but dude:  I’d actually have to do homework and stuff)
• Chapel-sleeper

After that, life was pretty chill.  Got a job.  Nothing major.  Not a lot of self-defining moments.

But then came parenthood.  And the billions of choices that go with that.  And the billions upon billions of books and products and opinions that you have to quickly either side with or denounce:  there is no gray.  And whatever choice you make, you become one of “those” moms - particularly if you’re super high maintenance, or if you’re a total slacker.
Attachment parenting:  doesn’t work for me.  I don’t really know what it is, but believe me, I don’t need more attachments in my life - we’re drowning in attachments.  Give me freedom, or give me a sanitarium.

Co-sleeping:  I couldn’t sleep with my parents when I was little - why would I start now?  When I would have nightmares as a kid, I would literally lay there debating whether the fears were worse than lying awake most of the night sweating between my parents (they put me between them so I’d feel safe:  I felt like I was in a sweat lodge.  The feet must be able to breathe!).  JJ slept with us for like a week when he was just born.  And then no one was sleeping.  So, he sleeps in his room, and we sleep in ours.  It’s not that we don’t love him:  we just love him in different rooms (I can make my love stretch that far.  I know:  I’m talented).

Mommy and me classes:  nope.  It’s not me:  it’s him.  I think I might be able to handle it, but JJ’s out of the room before the song time can start.  Too much estrogen, I’m thinking (for both of us).

Nursing past the age of one:  I did it for one month past his first birthday, mostly getting him off of the boob.  My mother, a fount of wisdom, noted that we spent more time yelling at and fighting with each other rather than basquing in the glorious wonderful act of nature that is a mother feeding her child.   If your child doesn’t like dinner and throws his plate, that’s one thing; but to yell into the jubblie that feeds you (mind you, a body part of MINE that I’m SHARING), it’s time for the jubblie to go bu-bye.

TV:  Yep, he watches it.  I hear of all sorts of folks, particularly actors and musicians, who don’t let their kids watch tv.  Why?  Because they have a team of people working to meet each and every need of their child.  I have a team:  their names are Bob and Larry, Bob and Wendy, Elmo and Big Bird, and PiggleyWinks and Fernie.  I choose to use them at my discretion.  It’s the *only* thing that makes him stop moving.  And whatever makes him stop moving is a good thing.

Food (in particular- sugar):  This is the one realm where I feel like I’m one of “those” moms - the moms who have a definite opinion that something should be done.  I’m not saying AT ALL that folks should follow my example:  but I know what works for me because he is flesh of my flesh and unfortunately that includes have a sensitivity to the Sugar Demons.  Protein is a must:  cottage cheese, string cheese, tofu.  It keeps all of us happy and healthy and able to function in society without massive meltdowns.  Carbs are good:  fruits and veggies, whole grains.  What’s on the no-no list?

• Juice:  like toddler crack.
• Cookies:  unless organic (i.e. not dripping in chocolate chips and enriched white flour) - devil.
• Cake, cupcakes, frosting:  Get thee away, Satan.

I’ve heard a number of moms and others make comments about my philosophy re:  JJ’s eating habits.  “Can’t we just give him some cake?”  “Why does he have to eat all of his boca burger?”  “Man, you’re strict.”

This is why, people.

And, note:  you know how something’s been going on for a while, and *then* you think, “Hmm, I should get the video recorder!”  And you have to walk to get it because it’s never any place that’s convenient or fast, and you have to take it out of its case, and then check the video tape to make sure you aren’t recording over anything important which of course it’s not cued up, so then you have to fast-forward before you can begin recording?  And how that a fair amount of time has passed between the event starting and the moment of recording?  Let’s just say that when this was taped, someone had been at this a while.

If only we could find a way to harness this:  we would never again hear the words “energy” and “crisis” together.

JJ Jawings, Mama Musings