People ask me why I insist on DD1 taking a daily mid-day nap. After all, there are quite a few preschoolers out there who no longer need a mid-day rest; let alone a mid-day nap. Often I have a hard time articulating why I insist on it, and resort to a feable, “She just needs one.”

And then, a day like today happens. Not that much happened. In fact, it was a fairly uneventful day of running short errands, doing some housework, and even squeezing in a little dance class for DD1. The only real thing that stands out from today is the fact that DD1 didn’t nap.

One evening of an unrested DD1 is all it takes to remind me why I’m so adamant about mid-day naps.

As I type this, her over-energized-juiced-up body is in serious over drive. She is literally running into walls and bouncing on every imaginable surface. She’s speaking at a completely un-modulated volume, and is otherwise unreasonably giddy and hyper. Every direction is met with a blank face and an incomprehensible wild-eyed confusion and intensity.

I am exhausted by just being in the same room with her.

In fact, it is this level of insanity that, I believe, prompted last week’s hair dressing session in the playroom. (See picture to visualize the extent of the “dressing” that was accomplished before they were discovered.) It is also this level of intensity that has me seeking multi-sensory activities for DD1 to do on an everyday basis.

And, in a small part, it is this level of insanity and energy that has prompted Dh and I to get DD1 evaluated for SPD. We will find out on Wednesday what the verdict is. I would be lying if a part of me isn’t more than a little apprehensive about the results. Although, I’m not sure what is more daunting. The idea that she may have SPD. Or the idea that she doesn’t.

and because I don’t know how to tell when too much is really too much… I’ve decided to participate in NaNoWriMo. One of the rules for NaNoWriMo is to tell everyone that you plan on writing a Novel in November. That way, according to the rules, it will be “the only thing keeping you from quitting is the fear of looking pathetic in front of all the people who’ve had to hear about your novel for the past month.”

So there, I’ve said it out loud.

And now I’m wishing November was here already. I’m also wishing this week wasn’t so stinking busy, because I’d love to start today.

I try to keep this blog fairly politically neutral. At least in the sense that I don’t usually discuss upcoming elections and/or candidates. However, I just couldn’t let this image pass:

Image Credit: Huffingtonpost.com

There’s just something very cool about the idea of a babywearing, breastfeeding vice-President. Now, if only she homebirthed…

The girls and I have been “land locked” for almost a week now. The car we affectionately call “Dave’s” car is having radiator problems, and is essentially out of commission until Dh’s next day off. Meanwhile even our van has had it’s share of maintenance issues. Including a dead battery and more recently a punctured tire. Dh has been using the van to get around, and as a result we (The kiddos and I) have had to cancel all non-essential trips. Including trips to playdates and LLL.

So, to assume we are a bit stir-crazy would be an understatement. The blanket of boredom has stretched to such a point that my two eldest are practically wiggling out of their skin with suppressed hyperactivity.

Yesterday, my eldest was bored and as a result she was doing everything in her power to “mix things up a bit.” At one point, after witnessing her knock her little sister down and listening to her screech nonsense at the top of her lungs, I sat her down and told her, “Listen, I know you are bored, but if you don’t make better choices you are going to land yourself in hot water.”

Her eyes got really wide and she paused.

I assumed I had made my point and was surprised when I heard an awed little voice behind me whisper, “Wow, in hot water. Do I get to play with the hot water or do we add ice?”

I explained to her, “Honey, ‘hot water’ is what people say when they mean that you are going to get in trouble. It is not literally a tub of hot water.”

She nodded knowingly and walked away.

Later that night as I was herding the crew into bed, my eldest touched me on the elbow and asked, “Since we didn’t get to do it today, can tomorrow we get into hot water?”

!

Sometimes I have no idea what to do with her.

Every once in a while I stumble across something that actually makes sense. A program that creates LESS dependence on consumerism and provides valuable resources to those in need. Maybe you remember (or maybe it’s still running in your area) the Tamp*x commercial that gives pads to african girls for every purchase. (Or something like that.) In theory it’s a great idea. Until you start thinking about landfill issues and the waste/disposal problems. Or the fact that Tamp*x is very strategically marketing to an untapped demographic. Talk about name-branding!

Anyway, as an answer to all of that Good 4 Girls is starting a campaign to put reusable feminine hygiene products into the hands of young women in Africa. There are a several ways you can help. 1) Sew and donate. 2) Donate through cash contributions or 3) Purchase new pads and donate them to G4G. Visit the How To Donate page for more information.

I’m still waiting for a reply from CiCi’s. I emailed them a letter and haven’t heard back. I don’t know how long I should wait before enough is enough. I guess I don’t know what a reasonable time frame would be? A week? Three days? Two weeks?

Sigh.

In other news, DD1’s surgery has been canceled. We have her wait-listed for another dentist within the same practice who supposedly knows how to do the new “kit” that has tooth colored crowns for anterior teeth. Initially they tried to insist that no such thing existed. Then they argued that the cost was exorbitant. It wasn’t until they heard my husband declare, “Then we won’t do it. We’ll just let these teeth fall out. I won’t have my daughter walking around with steel teeth in her smile.” that they suddenly remembered they had a dentist on staff who was capable of doing tooth-colored crowns on children.

Sigh.

We walked into that dentist office today hoping we would walk out feeling encouraged. And instead I feel even more conflicted. In fact, they got me so befuddled and anxious about the color of the crowns that I forgot to confirm that they’d be using a tooth colored mercury free filling. I hate that they aren’t scheduling us for a pre-surgery appointment. What about all the questions I have?

Tomorrow I’m going to do something I’ve been meaning to do for months. I’m going to fax all of the documentation we have, over to the dentist in Fort Worth. He is a mercury free ped’s dentist. I have a feeling he’s going to be expensive. But maybe, he can tell us if he concurs with their assessment, and maybe he can give us some direction.

Please be praying about that. I hate that I’ve given over $2,000 to DD1’s dentist. I wish I had done more research before handing that money over.

Anybody that knows our family well, understands that we have a love affair with Cici’s. DD1 and DD2 love their noodles and alfredo sauce and I’m addicted to their sticky buns. Dh likes them because we can all eat there for around $10.00. So yesterday, after doing some Christmas shopping in Waxahachie, TX, Dh proposed we stop by the local CiCi’s for a quick bite before heading home.

Eating at CiCi’s is my husband’s way of treating his family to a nice night out. We had no reason to believe it would be anything but a pleasant evening at our favorite restaurant chain.

Dh paid for two adult meals, one adult soda (I’m trying to drink more water these days) and two children’s buffets. I dished the girls up, got my food, and then sat down to nurse DD3 while Dh went through the buffet and sat down to eat.

At 8 weeks old, DD3 doesn’t go much longer than an hour and half before needing to nurse again. I was content to sit and nurse her quietly while my family enjoyed their meal. Things were going fairly smoothly and had no reason to believe that anything was amiss when the store manager approached me. A large statured man in a bright blue shirt, he stopped right behind my right shoulder.

He looked down over me at my nursing baby and told my husband, “I’m am going to have to tell you to cover up. Cici’s is a family establishment and we have children running around who don’t need to see that. If you nurse in Cici’s you need to be covered up.”

I was stunned. His instructions had caught me off guard. I certainly wasn’t expecting it. In fact, I had thought he came over to ask us how our meal was. Apparently not. Instead he’d come over to tell me that my breastfeeding wasn’t appropriate around children?

Seriously?

He walked away while Dh and I just stared at each other in surprise. Part of me wanted to cry, the other part of me wanted to rage. I felt so betrayed. So angry. All I kept thinking about was the scores of women who struggle with nursing, who have to fight to establish their breastfeeding. All those women who are already self conscious about nursing in public. What if I had been one of them? Someone who was already insecure? I’ve nursed three girls and still felt the creeping redness of embarrassment rise up my neck. I felt exposed and overwhelmed.

My embarrassment quickly turned to outrage. Dh, just as flabbergasted as I was, reached over and squeezed my hand. Unabashedly telling me to keep nursing. To not cover up with a blanket. “No. You won’t be bullied into covering up. You continue doing what is best for our daughter.”

Ironically, my youngest was actually finished with nursing and unlatched right at that point. I clipped my bra together and smoothed my shirt down. Wishing to a small degree that she wasn’t finished. I wanted to know what the manager would have done had I not finished. What was the next step? When he’d told me to cover up, he hadn’t kicked us out. He didn’t even tell us what would happen if we didn’t cover. He just didn’t leave any room in his instructions for the option to not cover.

Dh went up to the counter and asked for the manager’s name and store number. He also asked him, “Is it your store policy to support the harassment of breastfeeding mothers or not to support it?”

The store manager replied, “I was not harassing her. But it is our policy to create a family friendly environment.”

My husband asked to see the policy in writing, which the manager couldn’t produce. The manager did say, “Texas law protects my right to create a family friendly restaurant environment. Your wife exposing her breasts is not family friendly. Besides, I did not ask you to leave. I asked her to cover herself up.”

Side Note: I’m guessing that’s why he stood behind my shoulder? So that he could look straight down at my breast to determine if he could see skin?

My husband interrupted him. Took the man’s business card. And we left.

Now what? The manager maintains he was in his rights to ask me to cover up. He never apologized to me for embarrassing me. He did not make it clear what he would have done had I continued to breastfeed and NOT cover up. The implication was “cover up, or else.” BTW, I didn’t even have my diaper bag with me. Let alone a blanket. I’m not sure what he expected me to use? A bunch of CiCi’s paper napkins?

Besides, am I the only educated mother who has genuine concerns about the re-breathing aspects of blanket nursing? Hello! Heard of carbon dioxide anyone? Or the link between the toxicity of re-breathing and SIDS?

AARRGH!

I’ve composed a letter that I am sending to the men above the manager Dh spoke to yesterday. I will be carbon copying the manager the letter, but don’t feel like it’s necessary to write him directly. We’ve already approached him in person and he maintains he is within his rights to treat us in the manner in which he did. I’m currently re-writing the rough draft and have a target of noon-ish today for when I’ll mail the letter. I believe the faster I follow up on this, the better.

I’ve been trying to pin-point what it is about the Keating O’Gara case that has me so riled. I mean riled. As in my blood boils, my stomach churns, and I literally want to cry. Do you think it’s because I’m so newly postpartum? My 8 week old daughter is snuggled up in a bouncer at my feet. Her golden hair all soft and fuzzy and her chubby baby cheeks so very kissable. The thought of a sheriff barging through my front door and taking her away… it leaves me feeling sick to my stomach.

And more than a bit alarmed.

Maybe the situation bothers me because it happened in Nebraska? Next to Texas, I consider Nebraska home. It’s where my Mother’s roots are. It’s where I went to college. I like to imagine Nebraska as a good country kinda place to live. But obviously things are seriously flawed with the Nebraska newborn screening laws.

Probably, though, my reaction stems from my own anti-mainstream choices. It is not easy to make a decision for your child that is not “standard.” A lot of thought and research goes into the choice. The very idea that a person could toss aside every effort I’ve made to protect my child, and instead impose THEIR idea of care onto her… it’s a scary thought.

The thing is that NONE of my girls have ever received vitamin K at birth or antibiotic eye ointment. Only DD1 has ever received any vaccinations. So the truth is, if I didn’t live in TX, I could very well be facing the same situation that this mother is facing. (I should add that all of my girls have received the PKU screening. Although, DD1 only ever endured the first screening and not the follow up.)

I was reading about the story and ran across something the mother said about how her baby was taken.

On the morning of October 11th just after I had gotten Joel up from his morning nap, my doorbell rang. When I answered the door, an armed sheriff’s deputy came barging into my house yelling that he had a court order for Joel Anaya. I was screaming that I had not given him permission to enter my home. He said that he had a court order. I said that I wanted to call my lawyer. He said, “There’s no time.” There were 2 other deputies with guns and clubs guarding my doorways. He heard my children downstairs and ran downstairs where all my young children were. He snatched Joel out of my son’s arms and headed for the door. Joel was fussing and I knew he hadn’t eaten in 3 hours. I begged to be allowed to nurse him. The deputy told me, “There is no time. He will be cared for by professionals.” He ran out the door with my baby leaving me begging to nurse my baby and yelling for my son to call the lawyer. It was a cold day and the CPS people were not there yet to hand the baby over to, so the weather forced him back inside. I was crying and pleading to nurse.

My husband came home from the store just then. The sheriff deputies blocked him from entering our home. The way our rights were trampled by the sheriff deputies and the Department of Health still astounds me.

Thankfully the social worker was more compassionate. Allowing the mother to nurse her son for the first day and a half. Until a Judge ordered her to stop. Declaring that “9 times in one day” to be excessive nursing for a newborn.

As soon as I can wrap my mind around a coherent letter, that Judge will be receiving a letter from me.

Hall of Justice
1701 Farnam Street, 6th Floor
Attn: Honorable Elizabeth G. Crnkovich
Omaha, NE 68183
(402) 444-7121

This judge is the one who also insisted that the child remain in foster care (Despite objections from social workers) until the screening results were back. Thereby forcing the child to spend 6 days in care foster care. SIX long days away from his mother, his father, and all of his siblings. I could not imagine someone taking DD3 away from me. Not for an hour. Most definitely not for a week!

Another person worth contacting is:

Nicole Goaley
Deputy County Attorney
Juvenile Division

ngoaley@co.douglas.ne.us

She’s the one who “made the decision to seize custody and refused to dismiss the case until the test results came back.”

sigh.

It really is time to do some serious praying. We live in a country founded on religious freedoms. But in this situation this families religious choices were more than trompled. If you feel compelled, go ahead and write a letter. Situations like this cannot be allowed to occur without serious outcry from the mass population.

It looks like the hour is drawing nearer to the release of Steve Buonaugurio’s documentary “Pregnant In America.” I’m curious to see how it compares to “The Business of Being Born”

Click below to see a youtube preview of Pregnant in America.

After a two week sabbatical and some serious consideration I am taking this journal in a new direction. My old personal journaling archives have been downloaded and removed and all that remain are natural living type enteries. A grand total of 20 enteries from 2 years of journaling. (All the archives preceeding 2006 were long since archived on my hard drive and removed from the internet in the “Purge of 2005.”)

I am not happy about stepping away completely from earthjaunt.com. I’m way too nostalgic for such drastic measures. However, private journaling will no longer be done online. Instead, I intend to use this forum to talk about issues that are less directly related to my family. Or at least, enteries that are less personal and exposing in nature.

Please don’t be too discouraged. I still have lots to say. I’ve got this whole new “Nourishing Traditions” food kick I’m exploring, as well as a budding obsession with bento packaged meals. Not to mention I’m exploring the art of Kefir and Kimchi and would LOVE to share those details with anyone who cares to watch the process. This journal will continue to be a great place to show off any new craft projects and to occassionally flex my activist side. I’m actually feeling really excited about the changes here on my site and hope that my long time loyal readers stop by on occassion to see what’s up in our newly redesigned internet-home.