Screamie McGee

Braden still hasn’t stopped screaming his head off. In fact, he seems to have stepped it up a notch, and added another lovely behavior: The Fake Cry. “Wah-huh, Wah-huh, Wah-huh…*pant, pant, hyperventilate* Wah-huh, Wah-huh, Wah-huh!!!” So, there’s that now, too, along with The Shriek.

We tried and failed miserably at Operation Ignore The Shriek. Because, DUDE. You can’t ignore The Shriek. The Shriek demands your attention! The Shriek calls you to action!

The Shriek? MAKES YOU WANT TO KILL YOURSELF.

Ignore it. Mmm, hm. How do you ignore the fact that you are standing in the kitchen, holding an ice pick up to your temple, and you have no idea how you got there? Huh?

I’ve started time-outs with Braden recently. Oh, wow. THAT is fun. They really seem to diffuse his craptastic behavior for awhile, but that’s after I have to watch him cry about being in time-out. YUCK. And let’s not forget that it’s all about me, so that sucks, right? Hah.

But seriously, the screaming has to go.

I have nightmares where my son’s mouth is fused to my ear, and The Shriek is on a never-ending loop. And there’s blood coming out of my other ear, my eyes have popped out of my face, and my hands are scratching down my cheeks, nails leaving behind long, deep gouges. What? That’s not at all psycho. Stop looking at me like that.

But, does he really need his vocal chords? I mean, kids learn sign language pretty quickly, right???

Of course, he also does some loud things that are really cute… so, hm.

I guess I’ll let him keep them.

For now.

My Wiggle Bean

March, 21 2006. The first time we ever saw Braden James Carroll. And he was, indeed, very small – about an inch long. The picture says,”9 weeks, 2 days.” That is actually the time since the start of the last period I had had at the time. It had actually been 7 weeks and 2 days since Braden had been conceived.

He was not even a full 2 months old. Just 7 weeks. And his little heart was beating. I saw it.

Seeing my son for the first time since I had learned that he was alive inside of me was an experience which sparked a feeling in me that I cannot find the words to describe. Such emotion washed over me as to literally take my breath away. It was something like having a part of your brain and your soul that was dead for your whole life just suddenly awakening and coming to life.

He did a little wiggly, squirmy dance for us while we were looking at him. From that day on, we called him “Wiggle Bean.”

I thank God for my Wiggle Bean. No matter how big he gets, I will always remember how he was once so small, and yet he was more important to me than the whole world. And always will be.

The Best Gig

Waking for Braden

Last night I awoke, at about 4:30 am, to mildly-annoyed-baby-whine sounds. Listening to the monitor intently for a moment, tapping into that special Baby Sound Meanings-Deciphering Super Power us mommies have, I decided Braden must be half asleep, but missing his paci.Sometimes, the sounds say, “I miss my paci… but it’s not a big deal, and in a few seconds, I’m gonna murmur off, back into deep sleep without it.” When they say that, I roll over and go back to sleep.

Sometimes the sleepy sounds say, “Uh-oh. I miss my paci. While I sound pretty deep asleep still, right now, if it doesn’t jump in my mouth soon, things are going to change pretty quickly.” When they say that, I’ve learned to get up quickly, walk quietly, search furtively, find the paci and plug the hole.

Of course, sometimes they say, “OMG, I’M NOT GOING TO MAKE QUIET, SLEEPY SOUNDS AT ALL! I JUST WOKE UP, MY PACI IS GONE, AND WE’RE GOING STRAIGHT INTO DEFCON-5! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those are the nights when I really, really wish I hadn’t given up the sweet, sweet alcohol. (Because getting drunk while rocking a child back to sleep for the next seventy-eleven hours is a good idea. ? )

So, anyway, while I was standing by his crib reaching into the corner to retrieve The Paci, the soft glow of his crib-side light gave me one of those sweet glimpses of my Nighttime Braden. He was nestled near the corner of the crib right next to me, on his back, sleepily rubbing at one eye, with both eyes still shut. His blonde hair was falling back softly from his forehead. He had that, “I’m an angel in dinosaur pajamas” look. I sighed as I put the paci back into his little mouth, and listened to his sleepy, happy sucking sounds.

Back in bed, I spoke to him in my head for a few minutes.

“Braden, you have amazed me just recently.

I can’t believe how much you JUST changed on me again. I can’t believe how often you are talking to me, and that you’re asking me QUESTIONS!

I can’t believe that you can RUN and point at things and ask me, “Ish?” (this?) and “Wah-DAHT?”

I can’t believe that you spit out large paragraphs of garbled baby-language about the things I identify for you.

Braden, I’m just amazed by you and I don’t know how to tell you that. I still can’t believe that God decided to let you live with me.

But, you know what, Braden?

I hope He never changes His mind.”

The Great Breast-Fest or Facebook Blows

Yesterday I was reading Veronica‘s latest blog “The Great Booby Fest” over at her blogsite, Sleepless Nights. I learned that apparently Facebook has gone and removed pictures of women breastfeeding from user accounts on their site.

From ‘League of Maternal Justice:

[On October 10 at 10am, women around the US and Canada and - we hope - the world will breastfeed for justice. We'll nurse our babies or bottle-feed our babies or reminisce about doing either of those things and we'll post pictures and video, all together, and let the world know that there is no shame, only power, in caring for our children.

Spread the word by placing a button on your blog, and then set up your web cam to live broadcast on your blog on October 10 at 10am (your time). If you don't have a web cam, but have a video recorder, post some breastfeeding video! Load it up on YouTube and tag it "The Great Virtual Breast Fest" on October 10!]

Read the blogs at that site. See the whole story. It’s ridiculous. (There wasn’t even breast showing in the original banned photo.)

The woman that writes this blog: One Small Step for Breastfeeding…. is the one that had her photo banned and her ACCOUNT DELETED originally, but Facebook has continued deleting breastfeeding pictures now. (But they don’t even ban pedophiles!)

The removal of these pictures is another example of our society not being willing to accept the MORE THAN wholesome images of women nurturing their young the way nature and God intended.

It’s sick that provocative ads slap you in the face no matter where you turn (billboards alongside the road, ads on buses, TV, magazines, online, etc), promoting sex and pushing the idea that women should look and act sexy (read: slutty) all the time. Most of the time, thin, yet big-busted women are seen in ads wearing provocative clothing which reveals cleavage and leggage, leading to assage. Imagery in movies and tv shows isn’t any better.

Of course, we should all STRIVE to look this way, and be morbidly depressed if we don’t. In fact, if you have an ass at all, by the way, you can’t find a decent pair of jeans unless you shop at the “Fat Store.” More on that another day.

What I’m getting at here is how Tits and Ass are pushed in our faces all the time in the most UN-wholesome manner, and yet, when a woman wants to breastfeed in public there is such an outcry that you’d think she was masturbating in front of a crowd instead of FEEDING HER BABY.

It’s not right. Do you hear me? It’s Stupid, Sad, and Sick.

What kind of culture are we to support a vision of women that does nothing but treat them like second-class citizens? We women are held to ideals about our bodies which are near to impossible to achieve, we are expected to pleasure men willingly, and yet, if we do, are labeled as “loose” or “easy” (read: fun to party with, but not to marry?) and when we try to do what is right by our offspring, our beloved children, we are insulted and treated like criminals.

Breastfeeding moms are made to feel like they are doing something dirty; they are frowned at and talked down to, pushed into proverbial dark rooms and expected to feed their children in bathrooms, of all places! Even people who agree that breastfeeding is in the best interest of the child will tell you that they have no desire for a woman to do that in their presence.

[By Janet Fuchs Jackson:

If a woman breastfeeds with her whole breast out of the shirt, there's someone in the room wishing she would pull the shirt down a little more.

If she pulls her shirt down a little more, there's someone in the room wishing she would put a blanket over her side boob, or cleavage.

If she blankets her boob, there's someone wishing she would put the blanket over the baby's head.

If she blankets her baby, there's someone wishing she was in the corner.

If she moves to the corner, there's someone wishing she would face the wall.

If she faces the wall, there's someone wishing she would leave the room.

Can't please 'em all, so do what feels right to YOU, I say. But regardless of how you do it, keep nursing, ladies.]

To have such a stigma on a thing that is so RIGHT is disgusting.

Please, whenever you have the chance to stand up for Breastfeeding Moms, do it. Support them, and their children, whenever you can.

Please don’t think that you can’t offer your support if you’re not breastfeeding, or if you don’t have children. ANYONE can offer their support. Let’s make a difference whenever we can, as a society!

If you’d like to put a button, like this one:

Or even:

or one of the others, on your site, blog, or anywhere else, you can get the codes for them here.

If you’re a member of Facebook, and you’d like to join the protest group there, it’s at: Facebook Protest Group. You’ll have to login, of course.

And don’t forget the “Breast Fest” on October 10th, @ 10am!

Facebook needs to know that when there’s a picture of a mom breastfeeding her child, this is no different than a picture of a mom (or dad!) feeding, nurturing, or loving a child in any other way. Let’s tell ‘em.