Tuesday, January 25, 2011

"You're too cute to crochet."

I just finished watching "The Buddy Holly Story" for the first time.  I knew there must have been a reason I liked Gary Busey so much besides that the fact that he is vulgar and querky, like moi.  I thought it was neat that Holly's wife Maria came up with the phrase "true love ways."  Or at least that's what Hollywood wants us to believe.  I've been sitting on this "redneck roll" idea for years but my boyfriend has yet to make it.  They say behind every great man...

My daughter is being an absolute angel.  I just can't get over how stinking cute she is today.  She will be six months old soon and I see her growing into a kid.  Or maybe a pre-kid.  Nevertheless, I must say of myself that looking at her I know we are doing a great job as parents.  She rocks.

We gave her a bath yesterday.  I've heard tell of parents who are offended if you don't bathe your kid every day and I know parents who swear they don't give their kids daily baths but every time I see them they smell like sweet soap.  That's not my daughter. I love my baby sweet cheese too much to scrub off her essence and cover her in fragrance.  So let's just say that the last time we bathed her she was smaller and her hair was a lot shorter.  What a monster 'hawk on that child.  Of course, she gets spot cleaning as needed.  I never would have thought baby pits get stinky but they have.  Nothing a little Kissaluvs diaper lotion potion can't be done with in a swipe.  On that note, I have to rave about using cloth wipes, it really is like washing her bum instead of smearing wet wipes around.  I'm sure my daughter will be mortified if she reads this as a teen.  She won't talk to me for days until she tries to sweet-talk me into something she wants.


Last night I finished a scarf for a dear friend of ours.  A very belated birthday gift but I had every intention of making it particularly for that occasion; I did buy the yarn before the birthday.  I made a fluffy pink one for her daughter using the puff stitch and I had a hard time thinking of a stitch to use for hers that would be as warm and as fluffy as the puff stitch as well as suit multicolor yarn.  The galaxy stitch turned out to be the perfect stitch for the multicolor yarn.  It turned out beautiful.  Another project under my belt.

When I told my dear hairstylist that I had taken up crochet to attempt to fill the void in my life she told me, "You're too cute to crochet."  Perhaps I am now, thanks to her amazing revamp of the hair that had not been cut for a month before my daughter was born, sheesh.  I hope not to be one of those lame crochet ladies who gift you things that you would never want to wear or even display around your house.  I hope to make things that are good quality like you would buy in a store so nobody look at you and asks, "What lady with eight cats made that for you?"  If I can't accomplish that I'll just make useful things.  I'm back to testing out dishcloths right now.  After six dishcloths I decided what I really wanted was a dish scrubber and I found an easy pattern.

Pattern courtesy of Charlotte's Tangled Yarns
The flip side of this is cream cotton yarn.  I did this side darker because I like to have a dark color for scrubbing things like tomato sauce that might not rinse off.  The original design uses one side cotton and one side acrylic yarn but I only used cotton.  See below.

While I was checking out dish scrubbers, I came across tawashi, the Japanese word for scrubbers.  This can mean dish, body, or household scrubber.  Eco tawashi are eco-friendly crocheted discrubbers that you can wash and re-use instead of trashing one every week.  I originally wanted to make my own cotton dishcloths because I learned that dishsponges are sprayed with a chemical to keep them from getting funky that is classified as a pesticide.  I was so pissed!  All that work trying to keep pesticides out of our food and it's all over our dishes!  Many people make their eco tawashi with acrylic, but that's synthetic, exactly what I was trying to get away from.  Acrylic is more scratchy so that's why it's touted as a good yarn for tawashi.  It's made from petroleum and that's just what we need- one more way to suck the earth dry of her nonrenewable resources.  I don't mind the cotton and the extra elbow grease or aluminum-free baking soda to get the tough jobs done but in the future I will experiment with wool and hemp.  Experiment with hemp, haha.  There's also yarn made from recycled plastic bottles but as a new mom I'm supposed to be terrified of BPA.

So while I was looking up the origin of, use of, and ridiculously cute patterns for tawashi, I learned this extremely interesting tidbit of information: some people use tawashi and cold water alone to wash their dishes!   Chew on that.  I'm not going to go into specifics, look it up if you're interested.  And don't look too closely at my dishes the next time you're over for dinner.

My daughter just crawled using one leg.  How awesome is that?  I'm really in love with her right now.  We've got plenty of time to bond.  She is spending so much time at my breast, chugging and comfort nursey.  The rest of the time she's sitting and playing, falling over onto her belly and scooting forward a few inches.  She smiles so much.  She gives me these big wide smiles, sometimes with squinchy eyes like me.  She also just said, "Huh Da Da Da Da Da."  Her daddy will be thrilled.  She's dying to use the laptop keyboard; she lunges at it and whacks it every chance she gets.  Perhaps we will get a new one and she can play with this one, ha!  Today. she dunked her hand into some salsa and grabbed some corn chips out of the bowl and stuck them in her mouth.  I had to take them away since DSS will pick me up if my child's first food is chips and salsa.  I wanted to exclusively breastfeed her for a year but we are doing baby-led solids so the next time she sticks a suitable food in her mouth it's hers.  So much happens in a week.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Placenta Encapsulation

 The following post contains images some might consider graphic.

In the wild and in some countries, the placenta is not tossed out along with other biohazardous waste.  The mother eats it.  There are a variety of reasons for this:
  • decreasing the chance of the baby blues
  • helping the milk "come in"
  • increasing energy
  • decreasing sleep disorders
  • stopping hemorrage and decreasing lochia (wish I had known that one before!)
  • according to some researchers, ingesting the placenta may serve as nature's Rhogam, it may supress the development of antibodies should a mother with a negative blood type give birth to a baby with a positive blood type
Because of the amazing job it does nourishing the baby during pregnancy and the benefits it has for the mother after the birth, the placenta is considered in some countries to be like the baby's second mother or even the twin.  Among the cultures that do not eat the placenta, they have very special ways of laying it to rest. 

Unless it were an emergency situation, I might have a difficult time swallowing a chunk of raw placenta.  Also, since I'm not a big meat-eater anyways, I thought encapsulation would be best.  Furthermore, I am already out of the immediate postpartum period where daily consumption of the placenta would have done the most good.  Encapsulated dehydrated placenta will keep indefinitely in the fridge.  I wish to use my placenta for postpartum hormonal support since I know I am out of balance.  It's free and 100% safe for the lactating mother.

The father can also have some, if he needs a pick-me-up.  The postpartum period is hard on everybody.

There are many ways to prepare the placenta for encapsulation.  This is just how I did it.  Be careful!  The placenta is irreplaceable.  Prepare it using food safety measures you would use for any other meat.

Refrigerate placenta in an air-tight, food-safe container and begin preocess within 48 hours.  Or double-bag the placenta with freezer bags for use up to 6 months after the birth.  If it is frozen it will need to be thawed. 

 My amazing midwives had the foresight to double-bag the placenta for me after the birth.  When I decided to encapsulate it, I looked into the freezer to check if it had been stored properly to prepare since we had talked about just burying it.  Thanks, guys! 

Rinse well in cold water.  Be prepared for a good bit of blood, but try to look at past that.

 I thought my boyfriend would enjoy preparing the placenta for encapsulation.  I didn't think he would be bothered since he's a chef, but he was making funny faces.  I told him, "Respect the placenta!"

We used lemon and ginger to steam it.
Since we eat so much Japanese food, ginger is a staple at our house.  After making Arroz Doce this weekend I had a lemon sans peel.  It was great to make use of it.  Our family motto is "Waste not, want not."

Cover and steam the placenta baby side (smooth side) up first.  Poke it to bleed it.  It's done when it doesn't bleed anymore.


At the 10 o'clock position you can see a bit of the umbilical cord, or what I affectionately refer to as "umby."  As per Japanese tradition, one of our midwives cut off a good bit to save.  I've seen other moms shape the umby into a heart and dehydrate it along with the placenta to save.  I wish I would have done that.  It makes it such a cute keepsake!

Slice and then slice the longer pieces in half so that the pieces are uniform in size and cook more evenly.  I believe I cut mine too thick.  It would have been best had I cut the strips to be between 2-3 milimeters in thickness.  I dehydrated mine in the oven at the lowest setting (170 degrees) for 7 hours.  It smelled a little strong in the oven.  I've seen a lady who put the raw placenta in a blender and spread it out to dry on the countertop and reported no odor.  I will do that next time!

Steamed slices.
Dehydrated pieces.

Next, grind the pieces.  I hear a food processor works best but I don't have one.  I used a coffee grinder that I bought specifically for this project but it takes a long time.  I believe my pieces are very thick so I'm taking my time in the hopes that I will not break my blender.  I would really like to buy a Suribachi, a Japanese mortar and pestle or perhaps I will buy a regular one at the store for this project.

Follow the instructions on your encapsulating machine to fill the capsules with the powder.  You can add herbs if you like, such as Fenugreek which promotes healthy lactation or St. John's Wort for emotional support.  I don't see the point because the placenta itself does that.

I tried to purchase a capsule filler locally, but no pharmacy or medical supply store had one for sale.  One pharmacist told me that doctors often get them from drug companies so if I had a good rapport with my doctor I could get one for free.  Thank goodness I don't actually have need for a doctor!  Plus, I wouldn't want to bring something into my house with all the bad karma of a drug company.  My friend lent me hers.

Store the final product in your fridge.  They will keep indefinitely.

Each placenta yields approximately 200-250 "00" size capsules. The process is very tedious for me since I am having some trouble grinding the dehyrated chunks.

Nursing in Public

Yesterday we ran to Earth Fare to get eggs and sugar.  Eggs for the kale quiche I'd like to get off my butt and make one day this week and sugar for whatever goodies I feel like baking in the future.  People always snatch the bulk aisle sugar so since it was there, I got it.  My daughter got hungry and somebody had taken my usual corner seat so I plopped down at another table and nursed my baby.  My boyfriend came back from putting our bags in the car and saw me nursing without a cover.  He looked uncomfortable and he told me, "I'm not very comfortable with this."

I looked at him in an apologetic way but with a smile.  I think meeting the other person half way is a great way to have a healthy relationship and keep the peace, but this is something I have to put my foot down on.  I know he's not comfortable with it, that's why I used a cover in the first place, but I haven't been doing it for months.  I guess yesterday just happened to be the first time our daughter got hungry and I nursed her in public with him there in some place besides the car.  A very comfortable place to nurse, I might add, when it's not cold and raining.  I finally told him, "You'll get used to it.  If I don't do this then nothing is ever going to change."  I felt like telling him, "It could be worse!"  I support the legalization and NOT the regulation of marijuana, for instance, but I don't think it's worth the risk to my family to smoke it or have it in my posession.

Before I got pregnant I thought for sure that I would use a cover when nursing in public.  One time a fellow waitress called me over to look at a customer who was nursing her baby without a cover.  I agreed with her that she should use a cover.  That is one of those things I've done that I am ashamed of and I think back to it often.  When my daughter came along I quickly found out what a huge hassle it was in so many ways.  One of our friends gifted me a Bebe au Lait cover that opens at the top so that mom and baby can see each other but nobody else can.  It's a great idea, but when I used it the area that was designed to let mommy see her breast and her baby was full of my breast.  No baby + no nipple = no latch.  My boyfriend would hold the cover out for me so that I could get a peek and latch my baby onto my breast.  Besides not being able to see the baby there were other considerations.  Often my baby would squirm and shift the cover so that you could see the side of my breast.  I also had to find space for it in my diaper bag, already stuffed with the essentials:  loads of burp cloths for my heavy spitter-upper, at least two bibs and a change of clothes, diapers and wipes, my water bottle so I should never go without hydration, and the camera and camcorder (yes, they are essential).  I also needed to leave some space on top so I could shove my Moby Wrap in there if I wanted to take it off on one of those hot summer days.  I delicately stuffed the nursing cover into a bag and tied that to the handle of my oversized bag.  I went bump, bump, bump everywhere with the gorgeous designer bag I invested in digging into my shoulder.

I know other women have had bad experiences nursing in public but I haven't.  I don't dare say "yet" because I'm hopeful I won't but I haven't yet nursed my baby in public while walking around with her in the sling or wrap.  That's a sight to see, my boob all crammed up in front of to her face.  Unlike other women, I don't have the luxury of being able to hide my breast behind my baby's head.  When my daughter nurses, she sticks her arms out and wraps them around my boob.  I try to put myself in her shoes and imagine how she feels.  I imagine it would be like drinking from a big old wooden cask.

The only place I won't nurse uncovered is my boyfriend's workplace where I used to be an employee but now I am occasionally a customer.  Many of the employees there are excessively vulgar or, truth be told, just plain hateful.  If I were to nurse uncovered there, it would not be a question of "if," I would definitely attract negative attention.  I'd like to avoid having to deal with their disgusting behavior. 

I know that some women pump milk before they go out.  Some will not breastfeed in church when they are only seen by the eyes of God and His people!  What could be more holy?

Jean Fouquet - Madonna and Child (ca. 1450)
I just love this paiting of Mother Mary being so immodest!  Not too far off-topic is that more than one mom has had this photo deleted from her Facebook account. 
I strongly believe in returning natural birth, breastfeeding, and peaceful parenting to the norm.  I think if we can accomplish those things then within the coming generations a lot of the other issues I stand for will resolve themselves.  People are not aware it is legal to breastfeed in public in every state in the US, though unfortunately it varies from state to state how effective those laws are.  People have to be exposed to breastfeeding, and often, for it to become widely accepted.  My mother nursed uncovered over 20 years ago in Los Anglees.  My midwife called her a lactivist.  I've never thought about myself like that, but being a lactivist is as simple as feeding your baby the normal way.

If you are a mom who nurses in public, you know that it is easy to feel tense, ready to defend yourself and your baby.  Relax.  You are doing the absolute best thing for your baby and for the world.  I've found that most people try not to offend me by staring or looking shocked. 

If you see a mom who is nursing in public, give her a big smile to let her know the whole world is not against her.  Don't try to enforce your own standards of decency, modesty, propriety, whatever you want to call it.  I love the saying, "If breastfeeding offends you, put a cover over your head."

If you are a Dad, encourage your baby's mother to feed her baby straight from the breast whenever they are together.  Bottle-feeding, even when filled with breastmilk, does not offer all of the benefits of feeding straight from the breast.   How convenient it is to have sterile, hot milk whenever it's available!  Both of you will become more comfortable with it.  Most of your fears are unfounded. 

If you do have to defend yourself or a mother against ignorance, you need not do anything special.  Ignore them. Or better yet, ignore them with a smile.  Lactivists are extremely passionate and that sometimes translates to agression or hostility for others.  Prove them wrong.  However, if you are asked to leave a business or a public place, you should inform them that you are perfectly within your rights and that they may face legal repurcussions for their actions.  If you are still asked to leave, you may contact FirstRight, the National Alliance for Breastfeeding Advocacy or your local La Leche League group.

Good morning

My daughter woke up at 7 am again this morning and I wasn't going to wake up until I had to change her diaper.  It was just a fart, which put me in a great mood for the morning.  Baby farts are too cute.  This weekend she slept in until 10.  I hope for that every weekend!

This morning I had a dream that my boyfriend had a baby, effortlessly.  I saw her gorgeous face so clearly.  She looked a lot like our daughterly but with lighter hair, eyes, and eyebrows.  The eyebrows were not her father's like the ones our little girl has.  Overall, the looked a lot more like the kind of baby people would say looked like mommy.  He got up right after the delivery and started walking around while our daughters were playing; the new baby was already holding her head up and sitting up.  It sure does seem like that, as soon as they are born they are hitting those milestones.  When I woke up I thought, "He didn't deliver the placenta."

I think the dream spawned from the fact that I am often showed-up by my boyfriend.  I often need to take a break to nurse the baby while cooking our Sunday morning pancakes.  I ask my boyfriend if he can handle it and with the attitude he tries so hard to hide but says, "I've been a chef since before your parents even met," he flips the pancake up in the air without using a spatula.  Ugh!  Still, when we sit down to the pancakes he gushes all over them, "You make the best pancakes."  Yada-yada.

 Sunday's potato pancakes

Chistmas morning's buckwheat ginger cranberry sauce flapjacks

My boyfriend is still in bed, even though he set up everything to take his German Sheperd running with him.  The dogs are going through a trial separation.  They have been so bad recently that we thought it might be better for all of us if my dog went to go live with her previous owner where she gets spoiled.  I joke, "One down..."

Despite our daughter having a rough weekend, my boyfriend and I were able to get a lot done and I managed to maintain a positive ourlook for the second weekend in a row.  It feels so great being pleasant instead of succumbing to the baby blues.  Truth be told, it's more bitch than blues, but which came first, the chicken or the egg? 

Our daughter is teething and she's had a recurring buttly-buttly rash for a while.  She was very sensitive yesterday, she went into fits during diaper changes.  She even did the shaking crying thing, poor baby.  She seems to be better this morning, though I am having one hell of a time fitting the prefolds on her.  This size runs to 30 pounds, which she most definitely is not.  I believe my difficulties are arising from the fact that I have to wrap the corners around two hamhocks compounded by the squirming.  When we were taking the Bradley class, a couple who had graduated visited with their son.  I saw the mom and her son later when he was 8 months old at a mutual friend's house.  Boy, was he a squirmy wormy at changing time!  He even rolled over and did down dog when his mom was wiping him.  I realized then that we might have to switch to all-in-one diapers in the future, I just didn't think it would happen so soon!  That's the age-old adage of parenthood: "They grow up so fast!"  I don't want to relinquish the luxury of the economy of prefolds.  We'll see how it goes.  Perhaps giving her a toy while I'm changie dee baby will help.



Saturday, January 15, 2011

Hooray for Productivity

A few days after my baby was born I was vaccuuming.  Go ahead and burn me at the stake for that one but that's who I am.  I find it very hard to relax when the house is dirty.  Clean surroundings, clear mind.  

Recently, I have been giving myself some more "time off."  By that I mean I haven't made a quiche from scratch in three weeks and I've only been vaccuuming once a week.  I was partly inspired by other moms, especially moms of older children who help me to realize the futility of it all.  I'll go out kicking and screaming on the issue of maintaining a tidy house.  After all, my mom was able to do it!  Then again, she did not have to clean up after two dogs.

As always, it's all about finding a balance.  I've been spending more time just playing and cuddling with my daughter and gradually working back in getting things done but trying to keep the stress level as it is just playing. 

My daughter has been learning to sit and she is on her way to mastering it.  The whole thing happened within the blink of an eye.  Just this week she's gone from being able to sit for a few minutes to being able to sit twenty minutes or longer.  Last night I plopped her down amongst a mat and some pillows to see how long she would be content.  With a rattle, Lifefactory teething ring, Sophie, and Ocean Wonders activity mirror, she had plenty to keep her company.  I was able to vaccuum the house and lint roll the rugs (I know, but I didn't want to put them through the washer) while she sat and played.  Unbelievable.  You see, if I posted something like that to my Facebook I would be ignored, but for my baby and me, it's a big milestone.  My baby is on the road to independence.

Now, if I were to modify this momentous occasion into a Facebook status I would have to make it more interesting.  Nobody really cares that my baby sat while I vaccuumed, except her father and my mom.  So I would have to say something like:

My daughter sat while I vaccuumed the whole house today.  Ironic that my 3-year-old, 50-pound dog is scared of the vaccuum cleaner but my 5-month-old, 17-pound daughter is not.
Still I might not get any laughs from the peanut gallery on that one.

Last night was major for me, too, in that I was able to wash, dry, and fold clothes all in one day.  Our clean clothes usually hang out on the oversized armchair in the living room for at least 24 hours before I even sort them into piles of folded, hanging, closet, baby, and towels.  Last week I washed diapers, too, before I folded anything else.  It is a huge chair.  To top off all the depressed feelings of laundry to be done hanging over my head, I usually fold them on the second day after washing them.  The second day falls on a Sunday when my boyfriend is home from work, lounging on the couch with the baby and watching ESPN.  I can't complain, I do this to myself.  Thankfully I will have avoided being stuck listening to Sports Center this weekend.

Also this week my daughter's sleep schedule has changed.  She is waking up earlier in the morning, which makes me have to wake up at 7 am.  I debated making some changes to make her sleep in later, but what kind of lazy, ungrateful mother would that make me?  She already sleeps through the night besides rousing to nurse once and even then I am fortunate enough to pop a boob into her mouth and fall back asleep.  So this morning when she woke up and started kicking me in the back it wasn't too long before I decided to get up and go with it.  No excuses now.  Izumi sat and played while I went through a 30-minute postnatal yoga DVD.

I didn't realize just how much the body is out of whack after pregnancy.  Pregnancy and birth are perfectly natural, perfectly healthy things but after 14 months of dedicating my body to everyone but myself, I wasn't even able to bend over and touch my fingertips to the ground!  Fortunately, yoga instructors know this and significant release was done on my legs in the sequence.  By the end of the 30 minutes I was able to touch the ground.

After running 17 miles, my boyfriend cooked yaki udon for lunch.  Then I got some precious time alone... at the grocery store.  I was planning on spending the day out since I had been cooped up from the snow, taking along my adorable baby whom I had already dressed to the nines.  I was hoping some friends would come over so I listened to the suggestion that I should leave the baby with my boyfriend and do my shopping real quick.  I pumped a couple of ounces of milk, switched my stuff over from the diaper bag to my purse, and was on my way.  Freedom!  Freedom to listen to my music as loud as I wanted so I turned on the radio.  As the unmistakable techno first notes of the song started to play, I checked out my other favorite stations.  The song wasn't exactly freedom jam material but I decided to go with it.  I Safety Danced in my car and I'm sure passersby were astounded at the authentic 80's upper body dance moves this young woman was busting out behind the wheel. 

When I got back home my daughter looked at me as if I hadn't left at all, except for sucking on her fingers to tell me she wanted to nurse.  While I was gone she only drank an ounce of milk.  My boyfriend told me how she tried to play with the bottle as she would my breast.  Later this evening she sat upright and held my breast while she nursed, squeezing with one hand how she likes.  Nursing an "older" baby is so much fun.  How sad that only 43% of babies in the U.S. are breastfed at 6 months.

Some friends stopped by to see the baby and me.  One of my friends taught my daughter how to walk assisted.  My mind is so totally blown.

As I used to like to do before I started slacking off, I took some time to do some cooking for the upcoming week.  Last week I made a double batch of Arroz Doce, Portugese sweet rice, for breakfasts.  I didn't use eggs last week because I couldn't bring myself to crack the eggs.  Last weekend my boyfriend shared something from a classic Japanese book he is reading, "Black Rain," a true account of Japan after the atomic bombs were dropped.  I know I am super sensitive but what he told me made me burst into tears.  I was crying for hours and physically sick.  I woke up crying in the night and cried in the morning.  I dreaded nursing my baby and wept when I did.  I was worried it might affect our nursing relationship, but I kept telling myself how fortunate I am that my daughter and I are among those living and not suffering.  It was so absolutely horrifying that I haven't been able to eat meat in a week.  I know my boyfriend wishes he hadn't upset me, especially now that he has to cook all veg for me.

If ever there was a book to end war, that would have been it.  What is wrong with us?

This week I did use eggs.  I figure technically I've laid eggs that have gone to waste.  I would feel a lot better if the chickens were able to have chicks of their own one day, but at least nothing is dying to feed me. 


"So who's having sex with the hen?" -Frank Costanza

Now I'm sitting down with a cold glass of raw milk and unwinding.  My baby just woke up from a catnap and is squirming all over me.  Like clockwork, I feel my milk coming down and hear my daughter sucking on her fingers.  Good night all.



Counterculture Mama

While I vow to be true to myself, if I exposed all of myself at once I fear your brain might implode. The only person able to handle the unfiltered me is a man who runs fifty miles a week, probably to detox himself of me!

One facet of myself is my profession: Stay-at-home mom. Yes, I'm a SAHM and that doesn't mean I sit around watching soap operas and eating bon bons all day even though I do find time for televesion, chocolate, and blogging. Babywearing helps. As I write this, my daughter just woke up from a nap and is gumming a teether while in the sling. I'm still fascinated that a baby worn in a sling or wrap often goes to sleep or wakes up without making so much a peep.

Step inside a part of my world:
You Might be a Counterculture Mama if . . . .

Nearly all of these apply to me, except that I am not the worst part of the pediatrician's day. My daughter's pediatrician must have an unnatural fascination with seeing healthy children once in a while.  Her staff might think so, though, as polite as I try to be.  "Actually, you don't have to bother setting anything up because she's not getting shots today.  Thank you."
P.S.- Can I get a shout out from any mamas who love the smell of breastfed baby breath?

Introduction

So I've finally taken my friends' advice and started a blog. 

I've decided to do so because:

1.  I have reason to believe many of my Facebook friends have blocked my posts because they were tired about hearing about my baby, my milk, my boyfriend, my dogs, my food, etc.  Evidently these things are not as amusing to most people as they are to me.  My thoughts organize themseles in status updates throughout the day and I try to be very selective in what I post.  Don't pretend you're not the same way.  Clearly I have far too many things that interest me or piss me off than was ever intended to be shared on Facebook.

2.  I spend my days babbling to my only companion: my infant daughter.  Her delightful coloratura squeals don't do very much for maintaining my vocabulary.  Secondly, while there is no communication barrier between us, my boyfriend speaks English as a second language.  Furthermore, he spends his days with people who speak Spanglish and Japanglish.  If all of that weren't enough to turn me tongue-tied in my own language,  between us we speak in a language all our own: a little English, a little Spanish, a little Japanese, and a lot of baby talk (Cutely bably, bady dogglie).  How am I ever going to be a credible source if I can't speak my own language?

Here are the things that kept me from starting a blog:

1.  Blogs are for self-absorbed people who have too much time on their hands.  I'm a new mom.  Even if I do have time for myself I cannot count on when that time will come.  I am happy to see that blogger has autodrafts.

2.  The keyboard on my boyfriend's laptop is uber sensitive and my typing gets erased very often after I have mulled on my thoughts and finally decided which words best express them.  I'd imagine the experience is very similar to what a nut shot might feel like.  Again, I am happy for the autodrafts.

With my blog I hope to:

1.  Improve my English.
2.  Let my mom know that I am okay.
3.  Let myself know that I am okay. 
4.  Share my droll thoughts with any unsuspecting readers.
     *I dare to use droll because what little self-confidence I have won't allow me the word "boring."

"Opinions are like assholes, everybody has them."  -Grandma
"And everybody thinks everyone else's stinks." -Mom

I feel strongly about a lot of things.  While I know not everybody needs to think the same way I do, I am still young and highly opinionated.  However, I am not one of these people who like to sit around and debate.  I have better things to do, like sit around and talk about things we agree about : )  I would walk a hundred miles to avoid confrontation but I will stick to my guns. 
I try not to talk out of my ass.  I like to be able to back myself up, if for nothing more than my own validation.  More and more it is becoming obvious to me that what we call fact might not indeed be fact.  Studies are flawed and researchers are accepting funding from dubious sources.  While information is highly valuable, I believe ultimately intuition will lead the way.  Unfortunately, many people are not in the habit of taking advantage of the mind-blowing amount of information we have available and intuition has been replaced with programming. 

It is the age of Aquarius.  Wake up!

"Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do is in harmony."
-Gandhi

I can think of a few times in my life that I have bowed to other people and have not been true to myself.  One instance haunts me since it rocked my very core.  While my thoughts, words, and actions are not always pure I strive to be truthful to myself.

I will throw this one in here just so you don't have any expectations about my blog:

"But for my faith in God I should have been a raving maniac."
-Gandhi