I've never been told to put my boobs away

There is no such thing as public opinion, only published opinion. Winston Churchill

Last night I read this article.

In short, a woman was recently asked to leave a store because she was breastfeeding.

At first, I liked the article, she did a very good job at understanding, not only the mother, but also the assistant manager of the store who is now probably in a lot of trouble for her actions.

But then she started dissing my province.

Actually her exact words were "Our province isn’t breastfeeding friendly."

Now I'm not interested in attacking her opinion, because as I said, she has some valid points. But I have to say, grouping every Nova Scotian into a "backwater boob-phobia" category, based on one person's actions is a little harsh.

I am Nova Scotian. I breastfeed my child. In public. Where ever, whenever.

I don't do it as a protest.

I don't do it to shove it in people's face that they should accept me and my life choices.

 I don't do it because I'm a  looking for a way to showcase my post pregnancy body (Heidi Klum I am not).

I do it because I don't have time to stop and sit and find a quiet out of the way place to feed my child. I'm too damn busy being a Mom.

And if I've learned anything in the past four months, it is that, if you can manage to do two (or three or five or ten) things at once without endangering yourself or your child, you better damn well do it, or it may not get done.

So I do what needs to get done. And I'm proud to say, that no one has ever told me to stop. Or acted like I was doing anything vulgar.

While I am sad this mother had to feel embarrassed and harassed, I don't want the whole province blamed for it.

Nothing dramatic has ever happened while I have nursed my son publicly. And if you've ever read any post on this blog, you would know, that if there is a way to screw something up, I usually figure out how to do it.

 This year I nursed while Christmas shopping. In fact, in Sears I did exactly what this other mother did.

I nursed my little Fuss-Bucket under my Stronger Half's large winter jacket.

 I didn't ask for a chair, as we were in a furniture store, and we were shopping for furniture, so I just sat in every recliner without asking.

In fact, instead of asking me to leave, one wise salesmen actually came up to me to talk to me ABOUT newborns... he has a daughter who works at the hospital.

 He was so friendly, we bought the damn chair from him.

Then when I finished feeding, and Bucket threw up on me, instead of people thinking it was gross or unsanitary or indecent, they just laughed politely at my misfortune of being covered in baby puke (or maybe they laughed because I sarcastically thanked my child for helping me smell bad for the rest of the day).

I nursed all day in public.

The only time any attention was even called to the fact that I was nursing, was in Babies-R-Us.

I was nursing, but also needed to find a new diaper bag. So I grabbed three or four off the shelf, and sat down in one of their display rockers to rifle through the bags and see if any of them were worth the insane amount they expect you to pay for them.

As I hauled out the stuffing of each bag (with one hand -not only do you need to learn multitask, but you also need to do it with less limbs than you used to have available) and tried to shove my things in it (to test which one was big enough, not to shoplift) a grandmother, mother and baby walk by.

The grandmother commented to the mother "See, she can do it"

I looked up and smiled, not sure if I was being called out for hanging out on the display furniture, tearing apart merchandise before purchasing or simply not relegating myself to the "family room" to nurse.

Babies-R-Us does have a beautiful "family room" to nurse in. It's clean, set up with comfy chairs, and seems like a neat spot to hang out.

Why wasn't I there?? Because I had one day to get my shopping done, and when I tried to get in that room to change Bucket's diaper, it was locked.

I didn't have the time or energy to go find a worker to unlock it for me, let alone go sit back there for 20 minutes while I could be doing something productive.

 In the end, I purchased a bag, my child was fed, and happy, and nobody went blind from seeing me nurse in public.

 And nobody acted like they would go blind if I did it again.

 Thank you Nova Scotians, for not making life any harder than it already is on a stressed out, time crunched, constantly judged, sleep deprived, busy mom who is just trying to live her life.

I thought I lost a baby... oh no wait, it was just my mind.

I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know? Ernest Hemingway


People always say the same thing about having a newborn.... that you will never have a full nights sleep again in your life.

And then their next comment about parenting is usually "You'll be amazed how you can survive on such little sleep".

 Well I seem to be testing that theory. And "surviving" is just about all we're doing.

 You see on top of having a 3 month old -Who does not sleep 12 hrs at a time, and if one more person asks me if he does (and then looks at me like I'm doing something wrong when I say he doesn't)I'm going to stab them in the throat and then claim sleep deprivation as my defense- I also decided to go lobstering again this year.

 So take normal new parent exhaustion, and add it to lobstering exhaustion and you get a story like this one.

 The other night, I woke up to the sound of little Fussbucket crying. Like the dutiful mother that I am, I carefully got out of bed, so as not to disturb the baby lying next to me.

(I should mention that I co-sleep sometimes...this is not a political statement for pro-attachment parenting, or even a choice to cut down on laundry by not letting him sleep on the sheets in his crib. It is merely an act of survivalism while breastfeeding. Those who want to tsk tsk and say I'm spoiling my child by letting him in bed with me so he can feed while I continue to sleep can see the paragraph above, detailing how I feel about people who have opinions on sleep habits in my house.)

So I carefully get out of bed so as not to disturb the baby that sleeps next to me.

 And then I lean over the cradle and pick the crying baby up.

In the dark, I latch Baby #1 on, and then feel around in the bed, because I want to lie back down without rolling on top of Baby #2.

If some of you are starting to scratch your head and say "Wait a minute, I thought she only had one baby" well then you are way further ahead on the reality train than I was.

I feel for the right side of the bed. Nothing.

I feel for the left side. Still nothing.

I check under my pillow, in case my baby has suddenly developed the ability to silently crawl 2 feet and hide under things. Nothing

I start to panic.

How did I lose the baby that fast?

Did the Stronger Half take him?

I start to wake SH up...but I can see in the shadows there is no baby on his chest. We haven't slept with him on our chest in two months. He's not a newborn anymore, he doesn't like it and he wiggles off.

Oh Gawd.... now I'm really in a panic. I'm imagining SH picked the baby up in some sort of sleepfathering trance and put him on his chest, then didn't notice as the baby squirmed off and probably fell to the floor.

No probably hit his head on the bedside table and THEN fell to the floor.

Knocking him unconscious of course, which is why his screams didn't wake us up.

And then the dog probably snuck in the room and ate him. Or at least laid down on top of him and smothered him.

Cat's do that don't they?? Not dogs, but dammit, my dog never behaves anyway... so yea the dog probably sat on top of the poor baby... now I'm the mother of that smothered baby that rolled off Daddy, just like the stupid meatball that rolled out the door that I'm always singing about.

As SH starts to wake to my panicked cries of "Where's the baby?"  I realize I'm only searching with one hand.

Because my other hand is supporting the head of my baby who is calmly feeding as his mother has a nervous breakdown.

My only baby.

Because I only have one.

And he's safe and sound in my arms. Not rolling around like a rogue meatball waiting for a dog to confuse him for a soft place to lie down.

Heartfelt beauty tips, from the bottom of my brain.

I had plenty of pimples as a kid. One day I fell asleep in the library. When I woke up, a blind man was reading my face.
Rodney Dangerfield


Believe it or not, I actually do other things in life beside chase my dog around the neighborhood.

I own a business, and I actually spend some time trying to improve on that business.

So when I found out about this amazing system called "Zeno Hot Spot" I decided I had to try it to see what all the fuss is about.

Now I would like to take this opportunity to mention that this is not an official review of a product. This is simply my experience with it, and all comments should be taken with a grain of salt.

(Should you fell like adding a little lime and tequila to that grain of salt while reading, go right ahead, my wit increases with alcohol consumption)

I first read about Zeno about a year ago, some magazine recommended it somewhere as the newest greatest beauty tool.

It is supposed to clear unpleasant blemishes within 24hrs of them first developing.

What woman doesn't want that? To clear up a problem zit with the push of a button. Seems too good to be true!! So of course, I wanted one.

If it actually could do what it claimed, think how much more my clients would love me if they came in with that annoying pimple and I could get rid of it with a quick treatment.

So like all things that seem like a good idea but aren't life-threateningly necessary, I put it on my "To Buy" list.

This list includes things like, Air conditioner, Jessica Simpson Hair-Do clip in bangs, new sneakers, Air brush machine...

The list gets a little lengthy, as I barely ever break down and actually spend money on things unless it's is pried from my hands with a crowbar.

But I had a spurt this spring and bought the Zeno. (In hind sight, perhaps I should have went with the air-conditioner.)

My first obstacle was just getting my hands on one. It's not available in Canada, and can't be shipped from Amazon.com, so I had to find it on some unknown site and pray not to be hacked.

I wasn't (hacked-as far as I know) but I was charged an insane amount for shipping, and then some customs fees (Dammit)

So my little $39 machine wound up costing me somewhere around $80.

And took about 3 weeks to get here.

By this time I've lost interest in trying new things.

So when the box arrives I say "Yea!! It's here!!" then I promptly put it in a drawer and forget about it.

A few weeks later I decide it's time to haul it out. PMS days are coming and so are the inevitable blotchy breakouts that come with them.

It's a tiny little device with no buttons or switches, just a few LED lights, a metal circle, and a book of instructions.

The book reads a little something like this...

"Zeno is not intended for use on, ingrown hairs, hormonal breakouts, blackheads, whiteheads, red pimples, bumpy pimples, pimples that are forming, or that have already formed and are starting to go away.

"Zeno is not really guaranteed to do anything, but we think it clears up pimples faster than if you don't use it.

"We can claim this fact, only because there is no conceivable way to ever prove, or disprove it."

Now that's a good disclaimer if I've ever read one. (Okay, I'll admit, I am paraphrasing a little, but that was the general idea of it.)

Oh yea, and it's got a little computer chip that turns it off after eighty uses, for "your own safety". (Um, just in case multiple zappings by the same machine casues cancer or something?)

In other words, please choose carefully which pimples you would like to clear up faster than others, because after eighty zaps, this little piece of crap becomes a useless piece of crap.

I threw all caution into the wind though, and just started zapping every pimple I could find...

Here are my results...

It gets hot.

Not so hot that it leaves a burn mark, but hot enough to make you think it will.

It also takes a full 2 1/2 minutes to work. For someone with my ADD, that is a very long time.

They even try to break it up by making it beep every 30 seconds, but after the first two beeps this just leaves you wondering if you've lost count.

And then it leaves a nice red circle on your skin.

So now not only do you have a pimple that people can spot from 20 paces, but you have a big red mark around it to make it visible from 40 paces!

Nice of them to publish a novel of "to-do's" (i.e. hold it on your skin for the full 2 1/2 minutes) and "not-to-do's" ( i.e. don't hold it on your eyeball), yet forget to mention a big "not-to-do" as in, don't do this 24 hrs before you go out in public!

But thankfully a few hours later this red spot goes away. And you are left with just the pimple.

Maybe it's some sort of reverse psychology effect, that once you get rid of the big red spot around the pimple you realize the pimple really isn't' that bad in the first place?

Kind of the equivalent to someone complaining that they have a splinter in the finger, so you kick them in the shin, to remind them there are things that hurt more?

I must say, if that is the case, it is quite effective, because since my first time using it I have not found a pimple that has bothered me enough to try it again.

Although I should also mention that I think holding a hot poker against your skin for two minutes would have the same effect.

In fact, I actually recommend you go buy a curling iron at Crappy T's next time they come on sale.

They usually run you about 20 bucks and when you're done clearing your skin you can give yourself a stylish new 'do to detract the attention from the burn welts on your face as they heal.

A world of change

Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen. ~Benjamin Disraeli

We travel the world over to find ourselves and come home to realize we are as we always should have been.

Or some crap like that.

Although I have to say that's not exactly true.

I have definitely been changed by my travels.

My idea of a good rate a nights sleep is $8.

Anything over that seems a bit steep.

Even downtown Toronto I grumble that a private room costs $35

Granted the actual hotel down the street costs around $250 a night, but any hostel over $20 just seems extravagant to me no matter how close to the CN Tower you are.

Traveling has also change my opinion on "street meat".

I am slightly ashamed to admit that back in my early days (say around the age of 19) I turned up my nose at most any food served on the street.

Especially if that food was largely consumed by drunk people.

I kind of thought that if the majority of your customer base is too inebriated to know who they're going home with, then they are probably too inebriated to care about basic hygiene.

I was just never convinced that these street vendors really ever followed any proper food handling guidelines.

Same goes for Pizza Corner... I simply didn't trust multiple pizza joints all located on one corner of downtown Halifax.

Somewhere along the past ten years, I got over all that.

In fact, I am now the type of person who turns up her nose at a Carlos and Charlies in Mexico, and walks three blocks past the giant Deparment-of-Food-and-Safety-regulated chain restaurants in search of a little street meat vendor.

I'm not saying that I have somehow come to believe that these street vendors actually wash their hands, I've just come to appreciate the taste of authentic dirt.

Although I have to admit, your general idea of "clean" is always subjective to what country you are in and how long you've been away from your own shower and laundry room.

Spending one night in a hotel in Halifax you generally do your normal routine- shower, make-up, fresh clothes, I've even been known to spoil myself with some room service.

After sleeping on the ground in a dessert in Egypt, your morning routine consists of trying not to throw up your cold boiled egg and pita, and roaming to find a rock far enough away from other group members to squat behind without accidentally ending up in someones panoramic photo of the wonderful scenery.

I even spent three days on a sailboat without going above deck once. When the weather finally cleared, I put on a clean shirt to celebrate the end of the storm.

Everything else I was wearing had been on my body for three days straight, but my shirt was clean, and I felt like I was in heaven.

But it's not just my standards for hygiene that are effected by my travels, it's also my language.

No, I don't speak any more fluently in french or spanish than I did back when I was 17, but boy can I swear in a lot of languages. Putant, Madre, Bloody Hell, and Hellll-naw, are some of my regulars.

(I may not be able to spell them, and I can't tell you what most of them mean, but they do fly out of my out of my mouth faster than your traditional four letter words.)

I also noticed this weekend I can't seem to say the word "oi" (as in ouch) without then muttering.. Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi.....

The colour of my tan may not be as deep, and my out of focus photos may be lost in some old scrapbook, but the world has left an impression on me.

That impression seems to be cheap, dirty, and full of cuss words, but I am changed none the less.

Shelley and I, sitting on the dirty ground, in clothes that are probably dirty as well, drinking tea made from what is most likely water from a mud puddle.