NIP experience

Today I educated another mom on breastfeeding.  I'd secured Belle into a side hip carry in the ring sling for an early morning food run.  Belle wanted to nurse while checking out the crowd.  Assuming I was being used as a pacifier, our friend confronted Belle in the sing song voice people typically adopt when addressing small children, "You'll have to give that up."  I kept calm and explained we were actually nursing.  She seemed stunned.  "You still have milk?" she asked.  This wasn't the first time I'd been asked this question.  I explained the supply and demand of breastfeeding.  The woman admitted she'd initiated breastfeeding with each of her now young adult children, but had great difficulty because they were all born prematurely.  Breastfeeding just wasn't possible for her.  Her children are all grown, healthy and active now.  I got it.  She got it.  We had a truly positive conversation.  Then another woman caught Belle hiding in the sling and asked, "What's that in her mouth?"  I let that woman's husband calmly explain it to her.  Bless her heart.

Neighbours

Last week I let my guard down and allowed my next door neighbor back into my life.  We hadn't spoken in months, after it became apparent we weren't equally yolked.  Several months of silence didn't stop my neighbor from surprising me last Monday with several take out meals and news the family is finally selling the house.  I kindly thanked him and wished him well.  That night he came by with wine, which made a pleasant platonic evening.  He brought tequila a couple nights later and completely unraveled.

I'd eaten a big dinner and put Belle to bed before the neighbor's visit.  We had another pleasant platonic conversation.  When I voiced my sudden craving for a snack, the neighbor walked the short distance to his kitchen and brought back leftovers.  He also brought over a bottle of wine that he quickly drained.  The neighbor couldn't handle his liquor, unfortunately, and attempted a sexual advance.  I rejected him and showed him the door.  

The neighbor returned wearing a condom and no pants.  I sent him drunk, half naked and unsatisfied back home.  I am lucky he left without incident.  Belle and I both could have been attacked.  My neighbor sent a series of text messages in the morning.  He expected me to be a pushover and keep him in my life.  I won't do that.  Quick thinking led to me snapping pictures of him in a bad state and texting him those pictures in the morning.  He will leave us alone and turn all his energy on leaving town if he is smart.  

Creep

This morning I found a very drunk man standing on my front door step.  The drunk was clad only in a long sleeve shirt, a gold chain and a condom.  Belle was sound asleep upstairs.  I snapped a couple photographs as evidence.  I warned the drunk, who should probably be arrested for public drunkenness and indecent exposure, that I will take these photographs to the police if he dares attempt further contact.  What a creep!

Misunderstood

Belle and I brought beans and rice to a "global foods" theme potluck at our church.  I put considerable effort into this dish, only to serve it to diners who had never even heard of or seen beans and rice simmered together.  Very few actually tried my beans and rice.  To make matters worse, our pastor had advised gatherers against piling their plates and returning for seconds until everyone had been served.  This was surely based on past potluck dinners, when free food became a "free for all."  New rules may have put people off of truly enjoying our buffet style dinner.

I fed Belle breakfast, lunch and snacks prior to our church dinner.  Being well-fed didn't curb Belle's enthusiasm at the buffet.  I had a very difficult time keeping Belle away from the coffee maker and the food before and during dinner.  When we finally got our turn at the buffet table, I filled two plates and a bowl full of food for us to share.  Belle had to sit in my lap because she wouldn't sit in her push chair and the church does not provide high chairs.  I had a very hard time balancing a curious toddler and our food.  Someone finally asked if we were getting enough food to eat at home.  They interpreted Belle's magnetic pull toward the buffet, and me filling a plate of food for both of us, as signs of a hunger problem.  I lost my appetite pretty soon afterward.

I do not feel at home inside our church.  I like our pastor.  I like a few of the families we have befriended.  I appreciate being able to walk to church.  I feel I often rub some people the wrong way, like I am a woman with a child, just showing up and hanging out to get a free lunch.  A few folks don't even think I am a baptized Catholic (Ha!  I am a confirmed Catholic with twelve years of Catholic school under my belt.).  I don't appreciate being misunderstood.  The grandmothers who made the financial sacrifices to keep me in Catholic school all those years wouldn't appreciate it either.  This isn't the first time a comment has been made about our food consumption at a potluck.  I get the feeling I am meant to contribute to the meal without appearing to take pleasure in actually eating the meal.  I was sensually savoring a barbecued rib when asked if food was an issue at home.  I feel food is an issue at this church.  This isn't the right church for us.

Walker

Belle and I walk three miles round trip most Thursdays.  I usually wear Belle in a sling with minimal discomfort during our journey.  I secured Belle atop my hip in the ring sling this morning, only to feel her wiggle free as soon as we rounded the corner.  She really wanted to walk this morning.  We fell twenty minutes behind schedule with Belle toddling along but we still made it.  When an acquaintance noticed me holding Belle once we arrived, she asked, "Why don't you let her walk?"

Belle wiggled free from the sling again when she noticed a play structure on our way home.  I recognized the child of a friend playing at this park, along with his nanny.  The nanny and I secured the children into belted swings and enjoyed a lovely conversation while we pushed.  Belle babbled enthusiastically something that sounded similar to "ball."  I think the other child called me "mama."  The children eventually made their way back down to the wood chips, where they made a big mess.  Belle was so dirty and tired afterwards that she dozed off in the sling on the walk home.

Nonviolent parenting

I am especially pulled to create and maintain a harmonious household for Belle.  I found a restraining order my mother filed against my father in 1979 when I was three years old.  My mother noted my father's erratic behavior after surviving a head on collision in 1977.  My mother and I had both become victims of physical and verbal abuse in the years following my father's accident.  While I don't consciously remember this abuse, I know it left an imprint.  I won't scream at Belle or spank her the way my mother observed my father doing with me.  I will give Belle the peace I lacked.

Talk

Belle and I wake up reading and go to sleep reading.  I moved all the baby and toddler books within Belle's reach, including the obnoxious ones.  Belle is now imitating animal sounds and singing along with nursery rhymes.  I don't feel urged to consult anyone about her speech because she is speaking.