Is one really better than the other? Do the benefits of breast feeding
really outweigh the bottle? All of these questions played through my
mind as the time grew closer to having to make that decision. But was
it my decision? I would like to have thought so…However, I felt I was pressured into breastfeeding. If anyone reads this
and it helps a Mother to be make her decision then I’ll be happy.

The pressure of being a new mother is one I never understood until I
was faced with the reality. I was responsible for another life. A
little person both my husband and I created. We were given this gift of
life and now it’s my life’s work to protect and care for our angel.

Shortly after Timothy’s birth I was wheeled to my room where I was
left with my husband and our bundle of joy. Eventually a nurse would
come into the room to go through some paperwork. She then says,
“Okay let’s get that little one latched on.”
She proceeds to help me by squeezing the face of my very new baby and
pushing his head to my chest in such a way that he was screaming bloody
murder. There was no subtleness, no gentle touch and not much
explaining. Apparently the babies are not hungry at this stage, they
don’t really get hungry until a day or so later but it’s best to get
him latched on as early as you can. I was a mess!

From late evening to the next day my stay in the hospital wasn’t the
best. I was told by one nurse that I must get him to latch every 2
hours. “I’ll come and wake you so you can do it.” She would mash
his little head into my chest and he would scream again. I was not
feeling the bond that should I was told would be instant, and for those who said it was SO NATURAL...not even a little bit! I was so upset I didn’t
know what to do! Around 3am or soI called a nurse to
help me latch the baby as it was "time" to do so. Little did I know the nurse I had before was on break therefore I get Miss Congeniality. The nurse came to my room and said, “The baby’s not hungry, get some rest” The next day both my husband and I had become somewhat frantic about my leaving the hospital before I knew what
I was doing. Fortunately, there was a support group at the hospital so
I went to the class that afternoon. I found myself surrounded by women
who were breastfeeding their children. How could they ALL be on the
same schedule???? The class was somewhat helpful, the people were nice
and very welcoming but there was a child over the age of 1 and her
mother was still coming to the class??

A few days passed and my “supply” had not yet come in and we were
going back and forth to the hospital as Timothy was jaundice. In the
first week of his life he lost over 10% of his body weight.
To say the least breastfeeding was not going well for either one of us. He would scream for 30 minutes while I would try and get him to latch. He was starving
and there was nothing I could do about it, or so I felt. I asked the pediatrician
what I should do? He replied, “Supplement.” Supplementing quickly turned into his full time food feedings. I never gave up trying to breastfeed but it just didn’t
work for us. I found myself feeling worthless and less of a Mother. I
felt that everyone was judging me for not breastfeeding. I didn’t
want to go to the store with a bottle because of the looks I’d get. I
felt guilty about not having success.

I read an article in a local newspaper, Durham Parent. The woman writing the article told her horror story of the pressure to breastfeed and her not having success as well as becoming ill. She wrote about the
pressure Dr’s. and Woman’s magazines put on new mother’s. The
subject title would always begin, “If you love your child…?
She also stated all the while she was in the hospital they made her
pump. She was giving very little milk but the nurses kept telling her, “
Don’t give up now! She finally took control of her life and said to hell with all of you,I’m giving my baby a bottle and he will be just fine!
After reading the article I wanted to stand up and cheer. I wanted to
post it Dr’s offices all over the city.

I want women to know they do have a choice. Should you choose to bottle feed your baby it does not mean you love them any less. It does not make you less of a parent.

You do what is best for you and your family. As long as your child is
receiving proper nutrition, you will have a happy healthy baby.

Let me tell you all this. I love my child more than life itself. I
love him enough to do whatever I had to do to feed him. He was hungry!

(Side note: if you are reading this and you are getting ready to have a
baby, keep all visitors after the birth to strictly family…it’s a
special time but trust me it will be just as special the next day. Enjoy
the time with family and they then all go home friends visit the next
day).

During the late 60’s Gloria Steinem, Bella Abzug, Germaine Greer and others championed the women’s rights movement. These “Feminists” as they became known, began fighting for honourable causes such as equality in the workplace, restructuring the business environment to allow women to make career choices for themselves rather than be slotted into jobs etc for convenience. The glass ceiling and other barriers that women faced were things that were wrong and I think most people would now agree needed to be changed. But as with many of these political rights movements they begin with reasonable objectives but once they start to pick up steam common sense usually is replaced by radicalism. The movement grew and along with it came the fanatics. All of a sudden the “flawed system” which was their primary target became secondary and the male population took center stage as the evil presence in society. In the 70’s the feminist’s rage against men played out in the courts when every father became a potential child molester and even a child’s story could send men to prison for years a la the many child care facility fiascos. These things were proven not to be true years later but many innocent people paid dearly for the maniacal frenzy of this movement. Then came the indoctrination of children. Playing with “boy” toys was seen to be wrong because it would create aggressive behaviour so better to switch to dolls and kitchens. Even colours were attacked as being too male. Better to have a soft pink and teal rather than red or navy blue. Men were told not to open doors for women or always expect to pay the restaurant tab as these things illustrated you were sexist. The fashion moguls (notice I didn’t say men) also got into the act as they saw the rugged marine or cowboy look as too violent and therefore began the makeover of the male model. Out with the checked shirts and in with the silk shirts and long scarves. Then all of a sudden hair was not good. Women got rid of body hair so why shouldn’t men. Bang! out went the hairy chest. Old Spice and Mennen after-shave were a main staple but not good enough anymore. I go into the drug store I can’t tell where the so-called men’s colognes end and the women’s perfumes begin. Fortunately over the years a majority of women have discarded the more radical ideas and have rejected the “hate all men” syndrome. The main remnants of these beliefs now usually are found in the major metropolis areas where the media and advertising continue to sway weak minds. Out in the rural areas, out on the east coast of Canada and down in the southern Untied States men are still male and women are still female. Men throughout history have been hunters and warriors and in this dangerous world that we live in thank god we have a goodly number of them left on our side. So a word of advice to the feminists that want their men to be kinder, gentler and smell prettier, be careful what you wish for.

I grew up in the same neighbourhood until I went off to university.
I remember neighbourhood get togethers on warm summer nights......those neighbours were all at my wedding...and we were at theirs. It was a charming middle class neighbourhood, and though I'm sure there were problems, I really felt that everyone took care of each other.
On my 18th birthday, my parents were away on a vacation. I had a summer job and couldn't go with them.
My friends took it upon themselves to plan a surprise party for me...at my parents house.
(a little presumptuous I see now, but hey, we were young and I saw nothing wrong with it at the time)
When i returned home from work that day there was a huge sign in my yard "happy 18th". About 20 of my friends were there to greet me.
Shortly after my arrival, a knock at the back door...the neighbour two doors down. She had a cake and a card reading "Mum's the word".
By the end of the night there were easily 100 kids at the house...inside, on the front lawn, on the back lawn....I drank champagne...lots of it.
At one point two other neighbours sauntered up to me with beers in hand...wishing me happy birthday and chatting with my friends. When they were done their beers, they said, we just wanted to make sure everythings under control, and it is, so enjoy.
By the time I crawled out of bed the next morning, one of those neighbours had gathered up all of the bottles, garbage and beer caps and put them in a box....then he cut the grass. He said that there were spots that the grass had been trampled down by the revellers and a good cut would clear all that away.
It did.
When the man that lived across the street had a heart attack and was hospitalized, myself and some of the other neighbourhood kids went to visit him on our own.
When there was hardship in any of those households, there were casseroles and sticky buns at the door.
I know I loved that neighbourhood growing up, but I don't think I really truly appreciated how special it was until I was grown.
Although my current neighbourhood isnt quite like the one I grew up in, I wonder if that's because I'm looking at it from an adults eyes. Despite how happy we are in our neighbourhood, as a mother, I'm always concerned and not wanting to be too much of a burden on my neighbours.
My current neighbours are amazing....on both sides and across the street.
I often come home in the winter to find my driveway already shovelled. I'm forever thanking one who says, 'no it wasnt me this time'......I love it when i get a knock on the door...'I need vanilla for a recipe i'm making'...because I know i'll soon be looking for an egg or a cup of sugar.
I get the scoop on the best teachers at the school and where the kids will have to catch the bus this school year.
My son knows where to go if he's needing an adult and I'm not there....and I've been there for the same....in fact, just tonight I tended to a frantic child who thought he broke his finger.
So, maybe now that i'm all grown up, and having the neighborhood experience that I did, I'm worried that maybe I won't live up to the kind of neighbors that I had as a kid and that I have now as an adult.
My lawnmower broke (thankfully after the front yard was done!!)...but I feel my back yard is an eyesore for my neighbors!!
I thank my lucky stars for my neighbours...and I tell them this all the time.

AHHHHHHH!!!! That's it ....almost over....I saw the proof with my own eyes.
A tree with leaves turning red. It's only August 18...what's up with that? And so, I do what all parents do when the mornings get cool and the leaves start changing...I took my child 'back to school' shopping.
"These jeans don't fit right"...."that shirt is geeky"...."no one would be caught dead in that mom"......"I really really REALLY need that $50 skateboarding hat mom! EVERYONE will have one!"(and of course the commercials on tv totally support that notion that your kid will be an outcast if they're not wearing whatever's in)
Two hours later and a few hundred bucks poorer, we left the mall.
But oh, those changing seasons are so nice....the pretty leaves, the crisp air, the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot........
ya...i like it...i really do....
stay tuned for more rationalizing when the snow starts to fall....

The Death of Common Sense
By Lori Borgman

Three yards of black fabric enshroud my computer terminal. I am mourning the passing of an old friend by the name of Common Sense.

His obituary reads as follows:

Common Sense, aka C.S., lived a long life, but died from heart failure at the brink of the millennium. No one really knows how old he was, his birth records were long ago entangled in miles and miles of bureaucratic red tape.
Known affectionately to close friends as Horse Sense and Sound Thinking, he selflessly devoted himself to a life of service in homes, schools, hospitals and offices, helping folks get jobs done without a lot of fanfare, whooping and hollering. Rules and regulations and petty, frivolous lawsuits held no power over C.S.

A most reliable sage, he was credited with cultivating the ability to know when to come in out of the rain, the discovery that the early bird gets the worm and how to take the bitter with the sweet. C.S. also developed sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn), reliable parenting strategies (the adult is in charge, not the kid) and prudent dietary plans (offset eggs and bacon with a little fiber and orange juice).

A veteran of the Industrial Revolution, the Great Depression, the Technological Revolution and the Smoking Crusades, C.S. survived sundry cultural and educational trends including disco, the men's movement, body piercing, whole language and new math.

C.S.'s health began declining in the late 1960s when he became infected with the If-It-Feels-Good, Do-It virus. In the following decades his waning strength proved no match for the ravages of overbearing federal and state rules and regulations and an oppressive tax code. C.S. was sapped of strength and the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, criminals received better treatment than victims and judges stuck their noses in everything from Boy Scouts to professional baseball and golf. His deterioration accelerated as schools implemented zero-tolerance policies. Reports of 6-year-old boys charged with sexual harassment for kissing classmates, a teen suspended for taking a swig of Scope mouthwash after lunch, girls suspended for possessing Midol and an honor student expelled for having a table knife in her school lunch were more than his heart could endure.

As the end neared, doctors say C.S. drifted in and out of logic but was kept informed of developments regarding regulations on low-flow toilets and mandatory air bags. Finally, upon hearing about a government plan to ban inhalers from 14 million asthmatics due to a trace of a pollutant that may be harmful to the environment, C.S. breathed his last. Services will be at Whispering Pines Cemetery. C.S. was preceded in death by his wife, Discretion; one daughter, Responsibility; and one son, Reason. He is survived by two step-brothers, Half-Wit and Dim-Wit.

Memorial Contributions may be sent to the Institute for Rational Thought.

Farewell, Common Sense. May you rest in peace.

Note from Lori Borgman: This piece was first published March 15, 1998 in the Indianapolis Star. It has been "modified" and "edited" by others and circulated on the Internet, even sent to me several times. Imagine my surprise to see it attributed to some guy named Anonymous. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I take having my work circulated on the web as a compliment.

A while ago I was visiting Ontario’s beautiful northland and decided that I might want a cigar before I arrived at the cottage where we were spending a night. Just relaxing on the dock with a cool beer, some peanuts, good friends and a fine cigar seemed like a great way to pass the afternoon. We stopped the car in the small town of Apsley and parked in front of the local general store. I proceeded to enter the store and look around for some small town specialties before I made my primary purchase. There were some great looking baked goods but having such great self discipline I passed them up and grabbed only a Toronto Daily newspaper and went to the checkout counter. I asked the young girl of 16 or 17 if the store carried any cigars and she immediately said “yes we do”. Where are they I asked and she indicated they were behind the covered shelves along with the cigarettes. Can I see what kind you have I asked? No you can’t do that because of the new law she replied. Can you tell me what kind you have? No I can’t she said. Then how am I going to choose what I want I asked? She thought for a minute and then said I can read from a list for you if you would like. I said OK let’s give it a try. She proceeded to name some brands that I had never heard of so I asked her what type of cigar was that? She said I don’t know. Now I am stuck, so I told her to go ahead and wait on the two other people in the store to give me a chance to figure out what to do next. Then it hit me! I asked for a package of the brand she had just previously mentioned. When she opened the cover on the shelf I quickly glanced at the display and said wait, I have changed my mind. I want the other brand right next to the one I had picked. She said no I can’t do that! You must pick the ones you haven’t seen or I could get in trouble. But I don’t want those and I can prove that I am 60 years of age and of sound mind so why can’t you just sell me the ones that I want. There was silence and you could feel the tension in the air. Suddenly a woman approached me from behind and stated that she had seen the whole thing and that both of us were in deep trouble. The town was community policed (a large sign stated this as you entered the town) and she was arresting us for breaking the new law. The clerk for inadvertently showing me the cigars and I for using a ruse to trick her into doing so. The town officer stated that we were to follow her over to the courthouse and the matter would be dealt with expeditiously so away we went. I had brief thoughts about running but I didn’t want to get into a worse situation so I obediently proceeded to the courthouse as requested. By pleading guilty I was able to negotiate a lower sentence and ended up doing 3 to 5 days in Apsley jail. Of course our trip was ruined and I certainly heard about that from my wife but I learned my lesson. Now when I go to purchase cigars I bring an eye covering mask with me so I can put it on when the product comes into view for a moment. Hopefully by relating my story I can help others who may find themselves in the same situation in the future.

Sometimes we hold on to things that really bug us...those little irks that stick in our craw and we just can't seem to forget about.
We waste so much time and effort worrying and being pissed off about these things.
Its senseless.
I heard a story a number of years ago about these hunters in South America.
They hunt monkeys (don't ask me why)
They set out these traps that are just big enough for a monkey to fit into.
A banana is placed inside the trap. On the side of the trap there is a slit of an opening that is big enough to allow a monkey's open hand to slide through.
The monkey sees the banana, slides his little hand inside and clenches his fist around the banana.
Then he tries to pull his fist , banana in tow, out of the slit.
Of course its not big enough for his fisted hand to get out.
The hunter then moves in to capture the terrified monkey.
All the monkey needs to do to escape the terror of what this hunter will bring, is to let go of the banana, slide his open hand out and scurry away.
Think about that the next time something is really sticking with you....is it worth the terror? Or should you just let that banana go and walk away?
(there's lots of banana's in the jungle:)

Over the years I have graduated from an active participant in sports, to a rookie house league coach for children, to a representative (traveling) team coach and finally to a Provincial team coach for elite athletes. Over this period of time I have taken several levels of coaching accreditation courses in order to upgrade my knowledge and ability to teach young athletes. I offer this information on my background so that those who read this submission will know that my comments are derived from years of observing children, teens, young adults and their parents participate in several different sports. I categorize the kids (referenced as athletes) in three (3) levels and their parents in three (3) levels. The first level of athlete is participating because someone else wants them to be there regardless of the reasons. The second level is the athlete that wants to participate because they enjoy the sport and the social interaction with others. The third level are athletes that want not only to play the sport but have a keen competitive nature ,usually want to be the best and are willing to pay the price to accomplish their goals. The first level parent group are those that put their kids in sports because that is what they think they should do, because they have read, heard or seen it somewhere. Support is usually in the form of a ride to the diamond, rink, etc. The second level of parent wants their kids to play sports because they truly believe they (their children) are capable of participating and will enjoy the activity, team participation etc. This group will support their kids within reason. The third level is the parent who believes their child can make it to the elite category in their chosen sport and is willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to get them to that status. The problems arise when the level the child is in doesn’t necessarily match with the level in which the parents reside. When you consider the fact that all parents, to some degree, see themselves in their children you now have a recipe for potential turmoil.
If you look carefully at the level definitions for the athletes they tend to be personality driven as opposed to the parent levels that are more based on a belief in what they think is right. Generally it is easier to change a belief versus a personality particularly as a child grows older. Yet I continually saw parents try to adjust their kids from one level (see above) to another and it always failed. Athletes that were in the sport for the enjoyment of playing didn’t care whether they made the all star team. But if they had a parent that saw “major leagues” in their dreams, life could be made miserable for them. It seems to me that if a parent really worked at understanding their child’s personality and true desires before they got too far along in sports many of these problems would disappear. Wanting the” best” for your child is only right when you absolutely understand what “best” is.

Now that my son is 11, going on 23, I look back fondly at the days when he looked at me with awe....i think he did anyways. He thought I was pretty and that I sang like an angel...now I can't sing out loud in the car when his friends are with us.....so uncool.
Although he has always been very open with me about his feelings and the goings on in his life (sometimes painfully so!!!) it is becoming increasingly hard to know for sure what is going on with this group of boys who spend hours at the skatepark and have pretty little girls calling the house at all hours of the night.
Why must his hair be just so and why must he stink up the house with Axe and Tag?
Gone are the days when my cute little toddler would sit on the couch poking through my hair....what are you doing? I'm looking for the eyes in the back of your head mom.
No word of a lie...he actually thought I had eyes in the back of my head.
I wish he still did.

When I'm looking for an outfit and a salesclerk asks for my size, I say I have no idea.
I have in my closest, clothes ranging from size 4 to 12. They all fit me perfectly.
It's clear that some stores feel its necessary to use vanity sizing to make women feel better about buying clothing in their stores....with the expectation, I suppose, that we will return to buy more because at that store we're a smaller size.
Well, I for one am on to you... and I'm not alone.
A friend recently told me how her preteen daughter has recently graduated to women's sizes. She's a whopping size 0.
What the hell is size zero?
Not only is this completely inconvenient when a woman is shopping for an outfit, but it is totally offensive.
Grown women are not stupid enough to fall for vanity sizing. Its a waste of time.
That's not what really gets to me though. I look at my friend's daughter and her young friends and I wonder what we are setting them up for?
Striving to be a size zero is unhealthy and completely unreasonable.
Apparently size zero was created by the fashion industry to fit the image of the unhealthy ultra thin model.
Did they think they were creating this size to make a point that its unhealthy?
If they did, their brains are a size zero.
Vanity sizing is a dangerous practice that gives young girls unreasonable and unhealthy expectations.
And it's an insult to older women who now have no idea whether they are a size zero in this store or a size ten.
Shame.