Lately Alyssa has just been awesome. AWESOME. Of course, she’s always awesome, but lately she’s been especially awesome. And this post shall consisted of oversized bulletized blurbs of text outlining some of her awesomeness.

• She can navigate basic computer processes/programs and the interwebs on both Windows (her desktop, my netbook) and OS X (my Macbook). The other day I walked into her bedroom to find her playing Minecraft on her desktop, while watching Minecraft how-to guides (that she found on YouTube. BY HERSELF.) on my Macbook.
• She has totally inherited my tone and knack for sarcasm and witty little one-liners. Today, for example, she and Ryan were reading a book in the backseat of our car while we were driving to Red Robin. Ryan was reading out loud about a ladybug who kept questioning the same other bugs over and over about what they were. Alyssa remarked, “that ladybug doesn’t listen very well”. (In writing it doesn’t look so funny, but I swear, both Dan and I seriously cracked the hell up when she made that snarky remark.)
• Reading. Oh em gee. The girl can READ. One month ago she was on level D books. Now? J!
• She is so sweet, and so helpful, and so independent and self-sufficient… and she loves that she has all of these qualities. She embraces them. She defends them fiercely. Me? Help her? Pfft. She’d be a quadruple amputee and she’d still figure out how to make her own cream of wheat in the morning.

Oh, and to explain the blog entry title: today, Alyssa informed me that she and K, her busmate/classmate, are now stepsisters, and they’ve kissed each other. Her first boy kiss was at age 6, and now she’s had her first girl kiss at age 7. At this rate I’ll be slipping birth control pills in her cereal by the time she’s 12. (KIDDING. I’m not saying my daughter is promiscuous, and Dan and I plan to have many open-minded, open-ended conversations about safe sex and birth control options in the coming years.)

P.S. Today we talked about why smoking is bad. Gahhhhhhh. My daughter is growing up too fast! Sometimes I miss my naive, my-world-doesn’t-go-beyond-my-house little girl.

Thank you for subscribing to Jenn.nu's RSS feed! ♥ Jenn | Flickr: kiss-my-kitty | Twitter: @kissmykitty

..Allow me to explain, heh. It was mid-afternoon, and we thought that all three kids (Alyssa, Ryan, and my brother) were all occupied in their bedrooms doing various cold Saturday afternoon activities. Dan and I went into our bedroom to make our bed together (seriously, that’s what we really went in there to do!), and next thing I know I’m on my back with my pants down, and Dan is, er, lavishing plenty of attention on me. Out of nowhere, Alyssa pops up like a jack-in-the-box next to the other side of the bed and says, “Hi!” The look on Dan’s face was priceless… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him turn as red as he was yesterday! Anyway, we booted her out (but not before she spotted one of my toys and asked what it was¹), and continued where we left off.

Last night I went to bed around 1:30am, after finishing up laundry, making some no-bake cake pops, doing my nails (multi-colored flecks of glitter of various sizes in a creamy pink base, yes, it is as awesome as it sounds!), and finishing up some blogging work. I’m definitely blogging and social mediaing way too much these days – last night I dreamed that I was appraising our homes and the surrounding homes based on their Google PageRank. What the eff?!

Today I’m trying out a new set of kegel balls (before you scoff, allow me to assure you that they are quite awesome, and not only assisting with toning/pelvic floor strengthening, but their weightedness can definitely increase sexual desire, which is always a nice thing when you’re running around blazing through everyday life like a chicken with its head cut off and trying very hard not to spazz out over stressful stuff!). These are pretty high-end ones that provide feedback via vibrations of various strengths/types based on the type of muscle “reflexes” it “detects”. Did you know that you use your vaginal muscles to blow your nose? No? Me neither. But I found that out this morning. ;)

Right now I’m at a local bounce place, watching Ryan bounce himself silly while we kill time waiting for a birthday party Alyssa is attending (at a local laser tag/game place) to wrap up. I don’t mind sitting here, because not only is Ryan enjoying himself and I’m getting some mostly uninterrupted blog/work time in, it’s warm! Warm is good, especially since my car’s driver-side window decided to fall all the way down into the door this morning. I am assuming the cable or motor is messed up, because it won’t come back up. And of course this happens in the dead of winter, when I’m 8 miles away from home, have 15 more miles to go, and then have to drive those 23 miles back. At mostly highway speeds. As soon as I get home I’m going to hit up the magic skills of Dan and Auto Mechanic Google to hopefully fix it, even if by “fixing” we’re really just putting it back up and holding it in place with wads of cardboard (stuffed between the window and the frame) and duct tape.

So, that’s my Sunday so far. How is yours?

Thank you for subscribing to Jenn.nu's RSS feed! ♥ Jenn | Flickr: kiss-my-kitty | Twitter: @kissmykitty

This morning I asked Alyssa (and, okay, there may have been some bribery involving hot pink glitter) to let me put her hair in pigtails. Only while I was parting her hair (something I still suck at, despite having a daughter with hair of partable length for a good seven years!), I decided to braid the pigtails, instead. Alyssa’s only concern was that they might stick up or out, so I made sure to do low braids that started behind her ears. Alyssa is definitely a girly-girl – I can definitely envision titanium womens jewelry and Sephora gift cards in her stocking when she’s a teen. But she’s so opposed to doing anything with her hair, or letting me do anything with it. Yet she complains when I have to douse her hair with detangler and water and go after the knots and tangles as gently as possible. But she doesn’t want it cut short, either. Alyssa needs to learn that when it comes to long hair, there is styling and maintenance involved – she can’t have her cake and eat it too.

Thank you for subscribing to Jenn.nu's RSS feed! ♥ Jenn | Flickr: kiss-my-kitty | Twitter: @kissmykitty

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.

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).

Thank you for subscribing to Jenn.nu's RSS feed! ♥ Jenn | Flickr: kiss-my-kitty | Twitter: @kissmykitty

I took that photo of my sweet angels sleeping side by side before making the mistake of administering liquid ibuprofen to them. Well, to Ryan. Alyssa’s main symptom is her fever (currently 101.5°, and that’s even with taking acetaminophen three hours ago), though she also has a dry cough and is now complaining of a sore throat. Ryan’s fever is “only” 99.8°, but guess who projectile vomited all over Alyssa’s bedroom wall (and Littlest Pet Shop toys, which are now sitting in the bathtub waiting a good scrubbing and bleaching) about ten seconds after taking the liquid ibuprofen? I recognized the look in Ryan’s eyes and heard his stomach gurgle, but goddammit I was two seconds too late in getting a trash can in front of him.

God bless our physician’s evening hours. I have appointments for both kids at 7:15 and 7:30, and we only live ten minutes away. Time to roust sick, sleepy, vomiting kids and load them into the car. I hope there’s a “definitive” diagnosis (such as strep throat, which is what Alyssa had in June and Ryan had last March; both kids had fevers and vomiting as their primary symptoms) so I can get some medicine for them!

Thank you for subscribing to Jenn.nu's RSS feed! ♥ Jenn | Flickr: kiss-my-kitty | Twitter: @kissmykitty