This morning, in the midst of getting Alyssa and Ryan ready for school, I crammed all 18 lbs worth of Kirin into a seemingly 10-lb-capacity cat carrier, then loaded up all three and headed to the bus stop. Much to their displeasure I made Alyssa and Ryan sit in the car until the bus came (excuse me for not wanting my kids to turn into oversized icicles while waiting at the bus stop), and then I head off to the veterinarian. Kirin peed in the carrier on the way there, which only emphasized what I relayed to the veterinarian: HE’S NEUROTIC, MAKE WITH THE CALMING DRUGS PLEASE (I also got him up to date on his vaccinations). So now Kirin is on 11mg of Amitriptyline each day; the vet was also nice enough to use a dry shampoo to clean up the worst of the mess on Kirin’s back feet and legs.
We get home, and I have approximately an hour and a half to kill before heading back out to the veterinarian with Fritzy (I couldn’t find a second carrier to transport him in for the 9:00am appointment). I spent that time washing and drying (thank god for my washer’s Speed Wash and my dryer’s Speed Dry settings!) the peed-in carrier (it’s one of those soft-sided ones), bathing Kirin (as crazy as he is at times, he’s very easy to bathe – he just sits there and cries while I wet, lather, and rinse him), and then for good measure bathing Minerva, who stomped around in Kirin pee before I got the carrier into the wash. And I only got a little wounded in the process (two Band-aids only, heh). After I bandaged my wounds I had a little bit of time to sit, during which I blogged about blue print storage and had a protein shake.
Then I headed back to the veterinarian with Fritzy. After he received his yearly vaccinations the vet proceeded to shave off three tight mats on his belly that I wasn’t able to get off myself, and on the way out I made an appointment for laser declawing (I know, I know. I’m not a fan of declawing, but Fritzy is destructive to both people and property. And everything we’ve tried – alternative scratching areas, sticky tape, Soft Paws1 just isn’t working, and Ryan is freaking out over the scratches Fritzy inadvertently gives him.) — so we go back on Monday at 9:00am for that.
When I got home with Fritzy, I proceeded to use my grandmother’s 43 year old WAHL professional grooming set (it’s still in the original box, and the original receipt is in there, too!) to shave Fritzy completely. He wasn’t happy about it, but he held mostly still while I shaved off every last bit of fur I could get at. He’s not pretty looking, but I wanted all of his crazy wispy, thick fur off of him so I could properly bathe him and remove some of the old flea debris the vet noticed (it’s been a bad year for fleas, and despite my nearly-religious devotion to vacuuming daily and insistence that everyone take their shoes off as soon as they come in the house, they still got in. Grr.) when he removed the mats on his belly.
Then…bath time. Fritzy put up a considerable fight until he exhausted himself and lay there, panting, looking at me with giant bulging eyes, probably silently plotting my death. I was smart and gloved up in thick leather gardening gloves, so I escaped the more serious wounds he probably would have delivered otherwise. Once I had him thoroughly rinsed, I wrapped him in a warm towel and rubbed him dry, then let him rest, dry, and warm up on my heated blanket, which I thoughtfully warmed up for him.
The only cat to escape a bath today was Blueboy. But I have plans for him this weekend, mwahahaha.
- he figured out how to get them off! ↩
I’m taking Kirin and Fritzy to our veterinarian tomorrow morning. Kirin, so he can be diagnosed as the neurotic mess he is and put on some anti-anxiety medications; and Fritzy so he can be brought up to date on his rabies shot so I can then take him for a much-needed grooming (you so much as look at his fur wrongs and the shit mats, particularly the fur on his belly and around his back legs).
Of course, I suddenly realized that I need to transport two cats, but I only have one cat carrier. Oops? I shall figure something out in the morning, I suppose, even if what I figure out is a last-minute run to PetSmart for a second carrier.
P.S. I just saw that WordPress 3.3.1 is available for download, so go update your installation asap!
Inflammation is a painful condition that can be chronic or acute. Sometimes it goes away when an acute condition or issue clears up (such as post-op recovery issues; an injury; or weather-induced arthritis). In other instances, it’s chronic and there will always be flare-ups to deal with. There are many remedies for inflammation, with some working better than others.
Recently I read about Nopalea, which is a wellness drink that is directly derived from the Nopal cactus, which can be found in Mexico. The Nopal cactus has been long revered for its healing properties, and now Nopalea juice is available. It comes in a 32-ounce bottle, and can be consumed in order to reduce inflammation via having your body’s inner toxins neutralized. Toxins in the body have long been known to cause a variety of issues, including muscle and joint pain. While this is not something I deal with myself, I have heard and read that it can be quite debilitating.
Nopalea is available on both Facebook and Twitter, and of course at sonoranbloom.com. Visit those sites to learn more; you can also call 1-800-203-7063 to request a free sample (you only have to pay $9.95 for shipping and handling). Of course, keep in mind that Nopalea is not a cure-all; you’ll want to discuss any medical treatments with your doctor before trying them.
For those of you who may not have followed my blog 4+ years ago, you should know that I breastfed both Alyssa and Ryan.
Alyssa, my fiercely independent baby who didn’t seem to care one way or another about being held from the time she was born (but we did so anyway, of course), breastfed until she was ten months old, though it was a struggle. From the start she didn’t want to put forth the work required to obtain milk directly from me. Then I went back to work when she was just seven weeks old. From then until she was ten months of age, she was breastfed, bottle fed pumped breast milk, and also received the occasional formula supplement. Here’s a little insight to those of you who scoff at breastfeeding mothers and suggest they simply pump milk in order to avoid breastfeeding in public: breasts do not produce as much milk for a breast pump (manual or electric, doesn’t matter) as they will for a baby. I pumped every two hours before work, every two hours for four hours after work, and around the clock on my days off, and even with taking supplements known to help with milk production, I still couldn’t produce enough, which is why, by the time Alyssa was four months old, formula supplementation became necessary.
Ryan was a different matter altogether. He had the same minor latch issues after birth that Alyssa did, due to my smaller-than-average and slightly-inverted nipples (an issue that, oddly, has drastically improved since losing so much weight. In fact, I now have almost the opposite problem.), but was quicker to figure out what to do. And, by the time he was two weeks of age, I had successfully weaned him off of the nipple shield we were using to make latching-on easier (I also used one with Alyssa. Additionally, I used nipple formers, which do exactly what their name suggested, to coax my nipples out of hiding). At that same time I developed a wicked case of thrush in my nipples (I liken thrush of the nipples to the sensation of having ground glass inside your nipples, setting them on fire for a few minutes, then allowing baby to latch on), but I stuck through. Where I failed with Alyssa, I would not fail with Ryan, especially since I would not be returning to work (I quit when I was six months pregnant), and thus had all the time in the world to breastfeed. Ryan loved breastfeeding, and he loved nothing more than to be at my breasts (he still loves them, in fact – even at the age of five and a half he still seeks out my breasts subconsciously for comfort. There’s nothing like a fifty pound five year old shoving his hand into your cleavage spontaneously!). He breastfed exclusively until he was fifteen months of age, though we had begun introducing sippy cups (initially filled with breast milk; later with a bit of regular cow’s milk1 or juice) around twelve months of age. I was very adamant that no bottles be used for fear of nipple confusion/preference; I was so adamant, in fact, that if Dan or my mother wanted or needed to feed him, they used an oral syringe to deliver breast milk into Ryan’s mouth.
My two children combined, I spent a little over two years of my life breastfeeding. And not once did I hide away in a bathroom, a fitting room, a car, or under a coat or a stifling blanket when I happened to be in a public area with either of my babies. I’ve breastfed in restaurants, diners, fast food establishments, doctor’s offices, a day hospital, the mall, and of course in many local grocery stores, and retail stores and department stores, including Target, Kmart, Walmart, Kohl’s, and Sears. I even breastfed at public parks and swimming pools; I also breastfed in Harrisburg, at the Capitol Building, during a breastfeeding rally in May of 2007. And obviously I breastfed both of my babies not only in my own home, but in the homes of my family members, as well as Daniel’s family members. I was fortunate to never have any issues, aside from a few sidelong glances or the occasional dirty look (always from another woman! Never from a man! Men always went out of their way to give me a wide berth or not stare at anything within five feet of me if they noticed I was breastfeeding. Funny how that worked, huh?) when I was in public areas. Family members and close friends were always supportive; in fact, there were a few occasions where a family member didn’t even realize I was breastfeeding, because I managed to do so in such an efficient, discreet (read below) manner; they simply thought Alyssa or Ryan was sleeping in my arms, nestled close to me for warmth and comfort. 
And then there were other times, where due to my attire, how I was sitting, how Ryan was positioned, etc., that what I was doing was a little more obvious. And that’s okay — it’s okay for me, and it’s okay for any other breastfeeding woman.
Here’s my stance on public breastfeeding, in case you haven’t guessed: it’s ALWAYS okay. I won’t get into breast milk vs. formula, because breast milk is the clear winner each and every time (with the exception of women whose breast milk would be dangerous to ingest due to required medications; as well as women who are medically/physically unable to produce). What I’m talking about here specifically is breastfeeding in public. And yes, this blog entry is brought on by the moronic Kasey Kahne’s recent comments on breastfeeding, as well as the varied responses to his comments.
Breastfeeding in public is ALWAYS okay.
Babies need to be fed. And when they’re young, babies need to be fed regularly, and as often as every 1-2 hours. It isn’t until a baby is closer to a year of age that you can begin to set a feeding schedule and space out feedings even more. And even then, a baby’s body is still developing at a crazy pace, and needs nutrients – if a baby is crying out of hunger or simply the desire to nurse for emotional comfort, then the baby should never be denied.
The majority of breastfeeding women, myself included, do their best to breastfeed discreetly, even if they wind up having to do so in the midst of a grocery shopping trip (while their husband pushes the shopping cart), in a restaurant while they’re in a booth with half of a dozen family members, or at the mall on a busy Saturday afternoon. Most breastfeeding women will meet their baby’s need to nurse in as discreet of a manner as possible. My personal favorite method was to wear a cami (spaghetti strap tank top, essentially) beneath my regular shirt. This way I could pull my regular shirt up and my cami shirt down just enough to provide enough nipple and areola for my baby to latch on to, while keeping the majority of both of my breasts as well as my midsection covered. Not only was I not flashing everyone around with me, but I was maintaining my own comfort by not exposing myself overly much. And once I pulled my baby close to me, the only way you would be able to see a hint of breast is if you were leaning over my shoulder.
But there may be times, either due to the mother’s attire, or the baby’s movements, expose more breast. And you know what? That’s okay. A breast’s purpose, first and foremost, is to provide nourishment for a baby. It’s only as an afterthought that they are sexualized. Sadly, our society seems to focus on the afterthought and identify it as a woman’s breasts’ primary function. We have no problem with cleavage-revealing attire and tightly-cut shirts that leave nothing to the imagination. That’s acceptable, and in many instances, encouraged. But strip away the sexualization and pop in its place that real purpose of breasts — to feed a baby — and suddenly everyone is up on arms, gasping their outrage and suggesting that mothers:
- use a breast pump to express milk beforehand (not efficient in the least, and not always feasible due to last-minute errands, urgent matters which need attending to outside of the home, etc.)
- breastfeed in a bathroom or a car (forget the filthiness of most restrooms, let’s stop for a second and think of how impractical it can be to suggest that a breastfeeding mother abandon her errands and quite possibly her merchandise/purchases and maybe even other family members or children to dash off to a restroom or her car, if there is even one nearby or if she even has a vehicle)
- breastfeed with a blanket or one of those ridiculous nursing covers over her head, or at the very least draped over her chest and baby (these are in no way shape or form comfortable for mother or baby; and ironically enough blankets and nursing covers tend to draw a lot more attention to what a woman is doing with her baby)
Women deserve the right to breastfeed their babies anywhere that they themselves are legally entitled to be. Furthermore, no business, company or individual should be able to exercise the right to evict a woman from a public or private location simply because she is breastfeeding her baby. More importantly, babies deserve to be breastfed, and they deserve to be breastfed at any time, without any stress or harassment directed at the mother (or anyone who might be with her).
- and then Lactaid when we discovered his lactose allergy ↩
The older I get and the more “life experiences” I get under my belt (namely raising children!), the more I realized how advantageous it can be to plan out holidays in advance. Take Christmas, for example: Dan and I had a spreadsheet containing a list of names of all of the people we wanted to buy gifts for, and a list of gifts beneath each name. A gift that was simply an idea or a to-be-purchased item was marked with an I after it; gifts that were purchased had that I removed. Having this spreadsheet not only kept us sane in the face of buying gifts for nearly two dozen people; it also help us spread out our purchases, so we weren’t broke and desperate immediately before and after Christmas.
And while it may “only” be January, now’s the perfect time to start brainstorming with Dan and the kids over what we’ll be for Halloween. Otherwise I’ll end up doing what I did last year, which was pay top dollar for an Angry Birds costume for Ryan, because he didn’t tell me until the last minute that he wanted to be one for Halloween. Argh! Right now I’m browsing Halloween costumes at HalloweenMart.com for some ideas for the kids, as well as Dan and I. Alyssa usually has a hard time deciding on costumes, whereas I can just hand Ryan a flyer or show him costumes online, so I have to do more of the brainstorming for Alyssa, heh.
Fortunately, one thing HalloweenMart.com isn’t short on is kids Halloween costumes, and they have plenty of adult Halloween costumes, too. They even have Valentine’s Day costumes – who would have thought?!
