First, I was surprised by how utterly nauseating this breast-milk jewelry write-up is. I mean, I've got nothing against making bodily fluids into jewelry if that's your thing — it's the write-up that got me. A medal for breastfeeding, eh? We once had to put tremendous effort into getting Owen to eat anything at all when he had his first stomach flu. I want a glazed rice puff in a choker necklace and some plasticized Pedialyte in a charm bracelet to commemorate how very hard we tried.
Ok, no, I get it, it can be hard to breast feed. What I'm bothered by is the rampant rhetoric that implies that basic parenting is some sort of extraordinary achievement, as if children haven't been raised since, literally, the dawn of humanity.
Then there was this: From Soy to Sex: Why ‘Natural' Often Means Bad for Women, by Jessica Valenti. In this case, I love what she wrote; what bugs the crap out of me is that she had something to write about. Damnit.
I spent the afternoon yesterday wearing my cranky pants.