Untethered Typings

This post didn't start out this way. It started out being about breastfeeding. About the trials, and errors, and intricacies of it all. I sat down briefly to work on it a few times but wasn't getting any where. I definitely have a lot to say on the topic, that's not the problem. The urgency to write about it was getting pushed aside. By what, you ask? Of course you do. By a decidedly optimistic set of thoughts. Gasp ! I fully realize that my tendency is to write with a darker bent. I've even been called a cynic. If you happen to be a surmiser of this sort, hold on. This ride is about to get a little wild. The thing is, I love everything about being my daughter's mom. I love her. I love caring for her. It is joy in its purest form. It feels selfless and right. Well, mostly – almost 100 percent - selfless. Here's the thing. I've discovered a side effect of all this motherhood stuff that has surprised me. It seems natural and it makes sense...

I've noticed a bit of a disturbing phenomenon. It seems that for some women, the fact that they have raised children of their own - and are now Super Moms, really - grants them certain inalienable rights regarding others' babies. Maybe it's a latent personality trait triggered by the presence of those chubby thighs and toothless grins. Included are the rights to: 1. Hold any baby by way of ripp- I mean, taking said baby from the parent's arms as soon as Super Mom has entered the room. 2. Lose all ability to focus on anything but baby until baby is in her arms. This also coincides with a marked loss in any pre-existing sense of humour. 3. Ignore mother's and father's existence except as bringers of baby into her presence. 4. Diagnose and treat baby's issues. "Oh she's not balling her tiny eyes out because she's tried. She just needs me to play with her and stimulate her beyond belief." Never mind that baby has not slept a wink for ove...

Let me just say from the get-go that I think old wives' tales are, really, born of two very basic and understandable human desires. First, we all want to share our experiences. We want others to know what we are going through and if they are experiencing the same thing, that they are not alone. Second, we love to be able to predict future events. Where we lack control, predictability at least offers probable knowledge. If we know something is coming, we can at least have the chance to prepare. For this very reason there is an entire (ridiculous) network devoted to what I believe to be the least predictable of occurrences: weather. So old wives tales emerge from this deep-seated human desire for universality. Not a bad notion on its own. The problem, however, is that though the majority of women in this world experience pregnancy and child rearing, our experiences can really be quite disparate. This is because we, mothers and babies, are human. No two of us are the same. ...