Bad Parenting Confessional: Time Off

At Christmas I was very sick. I was home a lot for the first time since I'd re-started working. It hurt a lot. Not so much the hurling and stomach cramps but rather the time passing. The time with my dear ones. Owie. I secretly set to mind to avoid them.

I haven't taken time off since I started working. I'd scoff and explain how the kids just get ornery and refuse to go back to daycare when I take too much vacation. But how much of that is true? More likely it's me.

It's sort of like a breakup. After all that time together I've now torn off the bandaid. Just blenderize the metaphors and don't look back. I am not with them so much late and soon. Better to keep it way; a few too many moments and I awash in most un-motherful vacilation, attention-seeking and ambiguity.

But then there are times like these, a Friday off and a little vacation. We went away the three of us. It was little like I thought it would be.

And, there isn't that just nothing like the excellent post I clearly conceived 'round midnight last night; my arms wrapped around Monday's child in the dark of his Uncle's house?

Bad Parenting Confessional: Madonna? or Whiner?

Work is busy. Long days, overtime, the weekend, et cetera. Last week I worked late while my sniffling "how ill is she??" child shared a sleepover with her brother at the grandparents place. I called to say good night. There were tears.

????

Usually, I am absolute wallpaper to the grandparents. If there is little to be said for the predictability of kids; let's say that goes double for sick kids. In the subsequent hour I did my mind numbing overtime work up to my armpits of the image of my daughter weeping on the phone. I AM evil career woman!!!

Then just to torture myself I followed up with p-man, made my confession. Of course at that point I got the report about his delightful tear-free phone call. How 'Hi Daddy' sounded and what sort of movie and flavour of ice cream she was fully ensconced in about 10 minutes after I had called.

Duh!

Last night I grappled with how to take a second day off in a month for family illness. Now it is the nuthatch puking and spiking a fever. Work is a mess. I have a lot of customers on call-back queue and I know there are more coming. I wrote an appropriate note to my department at 10:30pm and updated my voice mail. No big deal. Then I wrote a note to my customer group. IDIOT! I actually mentioned in my message to more than 150 people that I would be away because my kids are sick (of course I put it in the form of a cute segue, but still.) So don't you know I am now obsessing** about being 'unprofessional' now.

Fool.

I have heard a lot from my female colleagues since I have gone back to work about how it was for them. Note many of these colleagues might be 10 to 15 years older than me and quite a few no longer have kids at home. They scoff at the cases of today's working mothers who whine even mention 'I have small children'.... it offends them. (Do they mean me?) They report how when they were working -- back then -- you never mentioned the children. I balk, internally. I hesitate to remind them that few of them worked at all before their children went to school; whereas my kids are only 2 and 4. I get confused listening to their machismo while recognizing them as classic Women's Libbers, the very ones who fought for my mat leave rights. Seems sad?/odd?/[insert right word] that they are disdainful of the fulsome dialogues of family and the workplace in (Canada) in 2009, more so than the men with whom I work... unless something goes on behind my back.

Last year when I was negotiating a return to work I had a long email exchange with my lady boss at the time, she was just of those types, boomer single mom of two. I was jumping through hoops and doing some scheduling wrangling. In the end she did help me out. More than the practical help I appreciate a comment made in the closing on one of her email messages. What she said was I 'having a family and working is complicated'. I think maybe that is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.




**Yes I know, obessing, is crap but did I mention I'm tired. There's your answer.

Bad Parenting Confessional: Away

I wrote you last week about my vocational challenge now that my old job has come up again. I really appreciate all the witty and wise commentary on that post. Helped enormously. If you ask me this is just what I need this blog for; my friends and family thank you all, too, for your contributions to my sanity.

The saga will continue. I don't have to do anything right now but a lot is suddenly on the table again. What about being a two income family? Do we need it? And, childcare what do you do anyway with kids three and a half and almost two for care -- is there a slam dunk to see them through school starts? Or is it really not worth it at this point with kids 22 months apart? You have to remember Vancouver childcare options are abysmal.

And, staying at home? Wasn't I just committed? (pardon the pun) I was and I wasn't. I mean I feel I can make anything of these choices they are stressful and, in my opinion, too numerous for those addicted to tranquility but I have found out I am not among that group. My family though entirely plain in many respects is not static; we have our chaos. Blessedly benign chaos. It will ever be thus, I expect.

There is really only one outstanding bit of major business. You see back in November when I was sure I was going to work my kids were driving me crazy and vice versa; the bad behavior all around was a concern. I told myself many times that going to work would improve our family. That being away would actually make me a 'better parent' relatively. For shame. Earlier this month when I mentally moved myself to being 'at home' I felt that my previous mind-set was pretty sick. I looked at everything and decided I couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't ever think absence would be a means to my being a better parent. Like a quest for the holy grail I was set to one task; to find something -- and everything -- else available to make me a better parent besides that. One who is better with the full acknowledgement of the impossibility of being good enough.

But now am I back to square one? How will I apply my new found knowledge to this scenario? Am I a stay-at-homer at heart? You know I have never had a childcare arrangment that lasted more than 7 months? Do I sabotage them since I want it to be me?

(A bunch of this goes to the SAHM's myths of perfection. I will still be keeping up my 52 reasons. Who knows maybe those 52 will represent the 12 months service I am supposed to give my employer before I am allowed to resign from work scot-free.)

The Emperor Has No Clothes: A Prequel Bad Parenting Confessional

About a year and a half ago I had ocassion to post a bit about my daughter's emerging gorgeousness. It was a real point of pride.

About a month ago I experienced its counterpoint.

During a night's run-up to bath-time I was charged with the task of negotiating her out of a dress-up get-up . To achieve my desired end I threw in an off-hand comment to move her along and was more than dismayed with the response. What I said was... "You don't need those fancy clothes, you are beautiful just the way you are."

What was the response?

"No. I'm not."

My heart broke in a million pieces right there.

Now if you know me (and of course most of you don't) you would know that I am a frumpy, near-Leninist thinky-type with a ton of 'inner beauty'. I mean this shouldn't bother/intimidate/involve me, right???? But it does. It is about the clothes. It is about the acquisition and the commerce of beauty and the feminine through glittery fabrics and branding. I understand the nuances of influence but still at 3 freaking years old!! she utters this swift demolition of that identity and idealization of her life-loving-dearhearted-growing-nay-blossoming-self so vibrant those posts ago.

I was appalled.
I was sad.

I won't blame Disney. As has been pointed out to do as much would be a cop-out. My point last week (call this the prequel) was to confess my own concern about my daughter for the reasons now described here. But also to register my aghast in this reliance on beauty and material possessions. An aghast coupled with an my recognition of the ages old value of material -- remember I have a not long past work history in museums. The mechanics of material culture should not wholly blindside me.

If I think about the number of reasons "why?" I do believe it is a general issue. It is a paucity of the feminine ideal for my girl. (please note the use of the word my) I truly want to be the best womanly influence on my daughter and to hear her echo the plainness of my identity laid bare my failure in this regard. It cannot be allowed to touch the radiance and potent that is my daughter. No!

Mother-Womanly Confusion Mantra #837
I will not have my children suffer for my inability to hold my shit together.
I will not invest in holding my own shit together to the detriment of the daily needs of my children.

WTF!! I find no solution. But will offer her some consolation in Mommy getting a new dress or two. Mommy getting out of the sweatpants and going somewhere with her self. [sic] Won't be a ball... No won't be a ball necessarily... But might be a start. And, don't get me wrong. I don't think I am 'at fault'... I simply do have to take my part and find a way to move a pretty big issue -- feminine identity -- ahead. Like I say, this Mother-Woman thing is complicated!

Addendum. Dear P-man. Expect a few Visa bills next month beyond normal transaction levels.

Bad Parenting Confessional: Mini Me

When people meet us and our children they tend to remark on how much the kids are like us. My daughter is really a miniature version of her Dad and my son "looks sooo much" like me. In a myriad of ways we have one of each.

These days the attitudes and actions of our kids (ages 1 and 3) are not always beyond reproach. And we certainly find moments of complex self-reproach when we see our own behaviours reflected back at us, made acutely annoying in their pint-sized and toddler-aged tempo: the back-talking, the know-it-all, even the bossy and the smart Alec. Where once we of the Roadrunner/Bugs Bunny generation were so smug about our smart, smarmy, wry, snark sarcasm, once secure in that identity, now there are moments when I'd give my right arm for a personality transplant.

A month or so ago I thought I would be going to work and saving my children from an overdose of the fallible role model I am. Remember, Burton White is unequivocal when he says that in the second year of life children should NOT be in the exclusive control of their mothers; there are good reasons for that. Now the occupational therapy I had in mind for our fall from graces has evaded me. Now I simply have to try harder. Smarten up instead of smarting off. Sheesh.

For the moments provided by my kids climbing furniture at a dinner party or shoving friends, being late for everything and calling nanny a fool, I am glad to have the words of other parents. I am glad to share reservation and reticence about this youthful impetuousness which is, at times, soundly euphemistic. Thanks to MetroDad for his commiseration with us parent hacks. And, thanks need be cast east for more words on how to forgive any boundaries of cuteness a 3 year old might push when a time comes to dominate the scene. It helps... a lot.

And, in conclusion, here's a vignette of the daughter of p-man as lawyer man. The cardinal rule here, never -- and I mean NEVER -- allow an error in fact to go unpunished. The context is Ms. Fancy's long drawn out refusal to wash her face at bathtime. The exchange concluded as follows:

Daughter: I am not talking to you. I am talking to mommy.
Father: Please, wash your face.
Daughter: I will NOT. I am TOO BUSY!
Father: Wash your face. Or I will do it for you.
Daughter: You are not listening to me!!
Father: So what do you have to say for yourself?
Daughter: I am NOT saying TO MYSELF, Daddy.

Insert sounds of Mo laughing.

Bad Blogger Confessional

As a titular blog contributor to the fabulously rhetorical BlogRhet... I got tagged for the reflective blogging post going around. Hmmmmm.....

I think I answer all the questions? Oh, fuck this ain't an interview. I can just talk, right? Here is what I say in response.

1. Early Posting
In late 2005 I was pretty traumatized by the turns my new parenthood had taken. Namely, life as a working mom and suddenly a working pregnant mom. Make that a pregnant working mom with a job share arrangement that just fell apart and childcare in total flux. I was, as the cliche goes, overwhelmed.

I found blogging a help with fears and uncertainties these things gave rise to in me. I started this blog 1.) to have a clear identity when commenting on what I considered to be 'the real blogs' and 2.) as a writing exercise to reason out(?) my inner tensions.

I have never meant this blog to be for my kids. It is really about me, me, me! I was my own audience. Myself and my husband. This blog was certainly a useful device for us to say things to the world and each other. I really liked those early posts when we were inmate and visitor, in turn, talking through the glass. I still like that about, what is now, our blog.

2. Your first
I mean you always remember your first, right? My first comment was a thrill. It was a luxurious bit of attention. I had asked the Sarcastic Journalist for a bit of coaching before I started the blog and she was nice enough to write me back. I guess she was curious after and she did look me up.

SJ was my first comment and she said a picture of my daughter and I was beautiful.

I was delighted. Am delighted. (Later I used the pic again and my beloved L. said I had nice shoulders. You should expect me to use this photo every year from now on. I need the feather stroking.

3. Conversations
In March 2006 our Who do you blog for? Quiz managed to get Dutch to publicly announce that an unexamined life is not worth living. Shocking. With that I believe he stopped reading our blog, phew.

Then on the upswing the post caught a bit of stardust off MommyBlogger heavy, Kristen, at Motherhood Uncensored. She even dubbed me a fabulous mom, heh those were the days. This event turned us to a broad range of bleaders and changed our blogging. Sure.

Oh that and the impending birth of our second child some four months hence.

4. The final question.. Do you think that this sense of audience or community might have affected the way you began to write?

As I have said I was initially my own audience. I would say that my experience and interaction with the ineffable community out there has changed things. I am, to use a dainty hyperbole, overwrought at times that I cannot serve the community adequately. (There are whaa-hey-ya toooo many good blogs to read these days. I might have a breakdown with all I know now.) I have to admit at times to publishing just to feed the beast. To meet that subtle Thursday deadline when really it's easier for me to write on Fridays. But who reads blogs on Saturday? I have to confess that the very persistence of this blog is the affect on my writing because I am not a liar when I need to say 'twice the children, half the blog'. I enjoy writing this meme if for no other reason as an opportunity to confess (and come to terms with) the lesser bloggedness where I am of late.

Not to say that we don't have some gems at times. Thanks a million, Mad. You're the best.

*** And now to tag. You know I hate tagging but I am a conformist so what BlogRhet wants, BlogRhet gets. I am pretty curious about what the answers to these questions would be for Mrs. Fortune she tends to cut the crap. And, what about you Liz Mom-101? Do 400 comment getters remember their first? (hey I know you're busy but it might double as presention prep?). Plus, as a tribute to our bygone blogging days I'll tag Heather back from that post that got us exposed.

Bad Parenting Confessional: Hug Forcing Hippies

I was so so so upset. I saw my daughter cry yesterday like I have never seen before. She was refused a hug and she bawled. Our Girl Friday is not what you would call a bawler. But I've seen it now. I was so upset.

Yesterday we had a playdate to breakup all the Mommy & and Me (and Baby!) doldrums. It was really fun for the two girls. Then when her friend went to leave my girl said. "No, wait. You forgot a hug and a kiss." (This is just like she'd say to Daddy or Grandpa when they're leaving.) The friend looked her square in the face and said "No, hug" and they went to leave.

I froze. I just didn't know how to react. Upon reflection I was leaving it to the other mother. And her response was bye-bye. Was there a sorry in there? I don't remember. I was profoundly upset, dumbstruck. Foolishly (?) we went after them down the lane. I tried to suggest alternatives to my daughter. Blow a kiss? The ever popular, "Ciao, Baby." But it was obvious she wanted no substitute. Our little visitor was amenable to supplying something in response to her playmate's cries in the end. Nose kiss? OK. My daughter held her in her little arms as they did it. What a relief I felt. She only whimpered a little after that. I could chat her through it.

In an effort to help us and to explain the little girl's Mom said she didn't like to force her daughter. Due to, as an example, the thoroughly logical limits she has to impose on her toddler around the hugging of their baby when baby doesn't want it. You know how those can be entirely age-inappropriate rough-housing in hug clothing. I understand this.

But at first it wasn't natural to understand. I was a bit in shock to not be the parent with the kid throwing the cold shoulder. It is usually the other way around. I have forced our daughter to hug this girl a couple dozen times. I never thought forced. I hand-out lighthearted chidings and tell her I expect that she return 'the love' when her friends wanna give it. I mean we're just hippies like that, I guess.

Which brings me around to friends. I mean do little 2 1/2 year old people really have friends? I know they are pretty friendly but are we wrong to hang our thoughts on social nicieties between them like they have such obligations? Or are they what I said... playmates. Thinking it over makes me feel quite icky; sort of like social engineering. I am flummoxed.

I'd be lying not to admit that I was shaken to experience that gap in parenting knowledge that seemed so accessible to the other parent. I tend to obsess about these sorts of run-ins and with the right/wrongedness of this parenting gig. What am I: some massive parenting schmo? I read too much into things, right? I love to ask "Did I do the wrong thing?" after these sorts of things.

The short story is someone refused my child's affection and it made her cry. I am sure this won't be last time. It's just that it was the first. It seems both of us got bawlers down there somewhere.

Bad Parenting

We wonder if we are bad parents. When of course we're not.

Today our blog took the pause not about itself but about others. We will talk about our own badness pretty soon. Because I do agree that claiming to be bad parents is like the new “I’m fat” among thin women.

Today, the "bad parents" on our minds are Madeleine McCann's.

I think about them and recall times I looked at my sleeping infant and had to haul him out of bed to pick up my daughter from daycare 1 block from home. I always did it. Because, you know, I'm a "good" mother. I look to them and try to make sense of fates that have pierced their holidays with that stitch of badness we all possess. Admit it. You have stepped too far from the monitor once or twice haven't you? You walk a fine line of childproofing at times? Maybe like me you were a bit laissez-faire about that open window upstairs? But just that once, right? Other than that you are perfectly omniscient, I'm sure.

In our increasingly secular world parents have been made out as gods. Ever-knowing and hovering around their offspring. Parents, in fact, are not. And, while there was a part of me that hit the sneer reflex when I had heard about the McCanns leaving their children, gasp, alone that has passed. We have nothing but hopes and prayers for them today. That any mistake be passed over this time. That tomorrow they may have the chance to error in some small way about Maddy's lunch menu or her toothbrushing. That another day will have them parents again not some sort of failed bodyguards.

Bad Parenting Confessional: Authority Figures!

I have a two year old. Discipline is an issue. I often feel like.. authority figure? Who? Me?

Yep, me. When she bumps or whacks the baby, I gotta deal with it. When she mocks nap time. When she throws sand at the playground. Mo-Wo. She's the heavy.

It sucks. Or more appropriately, I suck at it. I will effortless invoke the inheritance tax. I blame my mom for the suckage. For the fact that I hate fulfilling this role as virulently as I do.

My Mum was a real 'she's dead to me' parent. When I moved out at 18 she ripped numerous items, clothing and the like mostly, from my possession announcing the person that they were for wasn't real anymore. Sometimes I still get a bit fucked up about.. well... exisiting really. Thanks Mom!

Knowing what it's like to go from thoughtful to thoughtless human in 30 minutes or less, I wanted to be a more sensitive parent. I caught myself early and always avoid scolding my daughter for not being the 'nice girl she can be'... I always try to focus on the behaviour that is unacceptable.

But it's not working.. She gets a message around here that she is bad. She says so. I wish I had never used the idea of good girl AT ALL. She picks up on everything. If I say be a good girl and do X I'm sunk. She makes mistakes. Last night I tried a fresh bit of redemption. When she said she was a bad girl because she makes mistakes I said No!.
Then I said, "Well honey listen, I make mistakes, don't I?"
"Yes, you do!" she said.
"And, am I a bad mommy?"
"No. No you're not."
"So there you go!"
I could see the wheels turning.. but still.....this is a big hill.

This afternoon as nap strike continued and I abandoned her to an 'enforced period of rest' in her room I was so sad. I thought about it all in such detail. I really felt all those rotten memories of my mother being completely galled by my behavior; my existence. How she did, and still does, make me feel quite small. How I live in a life filled with dissappointment for her. I know my daughter feels my dissappointment about her nonconformity. I also know she feels it alongside a desire for some power. I cannot fault her to want some control of her life even at 2, let alone at 18. But what is right if I don't want her to be spoiled? Ah, back to the Burton White I guess and a little of the Bonny Doon.

Just goes to show that though I fought authority it does always win. Fuckers.

Bad Parenting Confessional : Errrrcch!

"Honey, can you climb up into your seat?"
"I can do it."
"Great, baby, thanks."

Quickly we are en route.. Mama and toddler and enfant... Thanks for the cooperation everybody.

"Mommy."
"Yes, baby girl?"
"You forgot to do the buckles."

eeerrrchhhhh!

So last week she was looking for freedom and this week it's restraint. Ah, the fickleness of a two year old.

Bad Parenting Confessional

You know sometimes she is just so two. Today, as she ran off despite commands to stop... As we argued over soup at lunch... As I looked down at all the magnet letters on the floor I did not even try to make her clean up...

When the teeth grit and the voice gets harsh I have to admit to being a bad parent. That's the confessional in this post. I cannot deny that since I took a second youngster on I have slipped a bit in all my positive parenting. I do tire and cut the corners to just pick things up or toss a smartie after a problem. I'm not quite meeting the standard of trying of best they way I was a year ago.

So, sometimes we aren't the parents we want to be. And how is that? Well, that's too bad, eh?

Bad Parenting Confessional : The glowing box

Since some people are willing to advertise their caving on shopping haughtiness I suppose I should come clean about the change of parenting politic over here.

With the advent of the lunacy of solo parent care of the child duo I have had to rethink my attitude about the glowing box. I believe the household relationship with TV is clear. We don't, didn't, have it on and we don't care how much money we are wasting on cable. Since being home with the two I have worked up a bit of a toolkit and I can now see where TV fits.

It is to protect the innocent. My plants, the cats, the woven placements that I would rather were not unwoven. Sometimes in the second half hour I need to get out of the house I can use a Little Bear to help me ensure I don't get the announcement. 'I draw in your bed!' Sometimes I can see at the age of two it doesn't kill her identity to tune out at 4pm when we are getting testy with one another.

Still, not all shows seem to be created equal. So far I have only used television, not dvd/videos. I wonder who is worth investing in? I actually can see some of the really junior TV connects in a way with her that any old cartoon can't necessarily. The Little Bear stuff makes her laugh out loud and she will sort of interact with it; afterwards, she role plays the characters sometimes. I can see that TV can spark the imagination when applied correctly.

What programs can you recommend for the two-year old?

I actually fear modern Sesame Street sometimes. That smart woman at Crunchy Carpets alerted me to a recent work on the evils of Elmo and I am now even more afraid. But like others we love the Grover, so the Street is sort of a no brainer. (I think sometimes I married p-man because he does the world's best Kermit impression. You know what a turn on that can be.)

What about the new stuff? What is this Blues Clues anyway? And, who is willing to let that snot nosed mouthy Caillou into their house? Will I regret it?

Bad Parenting Confessional : Mo' Woe indeed

God, a tough week at the Wo household.

1. I am sooooooo tired. 1 month to the EDD and I am wiped. I had been waking in the night for a while. Now, I am staying up quite late. Tiiiirrred. What is this sleep training for next month's schedule? Or is it something else?

2. 3 weeks left of work. Remember I work for the school board? You know June is sort of a busy time; not necessarily conducive to someone who's brain is goin' like Swiss Cheese. I got 100 locations to wrap service on, and about 10 projects to close or write up for a handoff to the replacement, interviews Tuesday. I tell myself it will help when I know who the replacement is, what they know and don't know.

But it won't.

3. Since the move to the bed e. has had only about a 45% nigh-night success rate. Quite a few nights bedtime routine is getting stretched to 1 to 1.5 or almost 2 hrs. It is, of course, our fault. We don't know what we are doin' and all our inconsistencies are resulting in some pretty ugly late night moments.

That said a late night for e. remains 9pm; so we are quite ridiculous shitheads.

I am gonna take tomorrow off and spend some quality time with my girl which I expect to be the best medicine.

Bad Parenting Confessional : We are so inconsistent

I swear to God, sometimes I think somebody is gonna lose a limb!

We have reached a serious phase of the parenting that we are entirely unqualified for, that being, the part where we must deliver only consistent messages. Now me, despite what I say, I do read the parenting "literature". I am a parenting pragmatist but not completely without theory. I feel it is my responsibility, and good sport, to try to decode what the hell is going on with the kid. I go for the following: belief in the right of the child to a range of emotions; clear communication; redirecting incorrect behaviour; and, parental fortitude to get stuff done.

Papa-man's style is *under construction*. Let's just say it does take a lot from the shit shared between siring dads in the workplace.

When things go wrong 8 times out of 10 we offer different responses. I understand if we keep this up the child will eat us alive by the age of four. When we try to discuss the matters in front of our talkative child she is now prone to say "stop it".

What frustrates us most is our complete uncertainty that the divergent choices will ever become complimentary.

Parenting Bad Habit Confessional #2: Who's bedtime routine is it anyway?

A couple weeks ago I had a bath. That was weird.

Don't get me wrong I have had plenty of showers since then and baths even -- but a couple weeks ago I had a bath, BY MYSELF. I realized I don't do that much anymore. Because we still take baths with our girl.

Earlier this evening P-man said to me, "I'm IN tonight." When he says it I can detect some relief, or something.

Ever since e was 6 weeks old we have taken turns taking her into the bath before bedtime. Excepting those early months when I still was dumb enough to let p-man have activities while I put the baby to bed!! Still had the bath but the turns part was sort of out.

Why do we do this? Well, exactly.

We didn't really like using the baby bath and she seemed to enjoy the fun of the big tub. But, more than anything it seems likely that the bath helps Mama and Daddy unwind. It is certainly easier than stooping over the tub and trying to control a slippery infant. Unlike some people we have never had any Merseygoldfish incidents in our tub either. Quite obviously OUR WAY this is the best way.

So why I am I embarrassed about it?

Parenting Bad Habit Confessional #1: Do we have a weaner?

Yes, its true. I am still a breastfeeder. (Feedee?)

What am I supposed to do...? We have been in really good shape with only two feedings, morn and bedtime since Miss Fancy was 11mos. old, and now I am stuck. I think I have it in my head that I need a stressless window of at least 10 days to even consider dropping a feeding with my -- as of tomorrow -- 16 mos. old! Yeah, like that is going to happen.

In conversation with a wise soul yesterday it became quite clear that my retaining these feedings are certainly in the case of the wake-up and possibly bedtime too... well they are 100% grounded in my laziness, or fatigue. You know I used to have a big idea that I need to buy my time with some boob-milk while I slaved over some wondrous organic whole grain, iron fortified, full fat, nutritionally balanced homemade breakfast wonder, but that is all over now. With me working full time and since our girl has mastered -- nay delights in -- a bowl of cereal and milk under the lead of all her daycare chums what is my excuse now? How much more à la minute a preparation can there be?? Corn squares n' milk.

The truth is I just can't roll out of bed too easily anymore and if a breastfeeding means I get 10 more minutes lie down I am not one to break the routine. I haven't even tried to skip, I am so sad.

And, there are the auxiliary issues.

I think I sometimes I have simply run out of material. Maybe I have developed some phobia of routine variance? Must be yet another aspect of catholic background -- well isn't that just special, as they say. In 16 months there have been a number ofexperiments with routine, many quite spectacular failures. Those routines -- read rituals -- that we have nailed down I will not let go of easily -- think Thomas More really. But it is pretty obvious the breastfeeding is sort of in overkill mode now. HELP!

But how to get out of the habit? Sort of seems not a bad idea to blog it in a parenting bad habit confessional. Yes, this sounds like a case for the Internet!

See also confessional post ver. 1:
Look, who is talking?. A just-in-time feature for the agonizing parent who tires of decision making processes for which they are solely culpable. We here at mo-wo look forward to the input of the extensive web-based parental wisdom as we put our parenting bad habits out there. Wow, I feel the twinges of absolution already... blog as confessional so quick and easy to use,too! This is a recording.

** Updated to add. This is how it turned out.