To Whom it May Concern

The decision to go to the restauarnt that day was spontaneous. There wasn't any thought of, "should I get something to cover up with before I go?" Thats not how we were raised. We have never been ashamed of breastfeeding. In fact we don't think too much on boobs period. My dad always said, "Boobs are for babies. Real men don't get worked up about it."

Jane had just worked overtime that week at her two jobs as an RN. She was feeling bad about all the time missed with her small children. She was ready to spend some of that overtime money spoiling her family. They were excited to go out as a family and spend time together. At least that was the plan.

Shortly after they were seated, the baby needed to nurse. As her mother, Jane was hoping that she could get the baby sleeping, or at least pacified in some way, before her meal came. Moms out there: you know you have all been there.

Jane was wearing a nursing bra, a tanktop and a little white cardigan covering her arms. Her breasts are large, so her upper breast was showing. If you were having a hard time minding your own business, you might have seen her entire breast, right before latch on but after that she was not showing any more breast than the low cut shirts over in the bar area.

But, lets be honest. The quick moment her breast was exposed to latch the baby on is not the issue. It was the fact that the upper part of her breast was showing for a reason OTHER than showing them off for sexual purposes. People have also commented on the fact that the baby was on the table. There was not enough room between the booth and the table for the baby to fit so she was left with laying the baby partially on the table. The baby on the table was not the move of an exhibitionist, it was the move of a flipping fantastic mother, who was doing what she had to do to comfort and nourish her child.

The waitress that approached the table, Jody, is known for being rude. People avoid the restaurant on days that she works....I know. I used to work there. On that note, when I gave my two weeks notice, her response was, "Why? So you can collect more food stamps?" The only reason she knew about my assistance at that time was because I had to turn in an income verification form to keep my benefits. I quit on the spot when I realized that my personal business had been a topic of conversation behind my back at the restaurant. So this is the woman that we are all supposed to believe handled the situation with any kind of tact?

She approached the table and told my sister she needed to cover up. Jane balked, obviously offended and unwilling to comply. That should have been the end of it. It wasn't. This know-it-all twit stood over her and offered to get her a napkin, telling her that she was confusing people's children. Who could enjoy a meal after that? She did not ask Jane to leave but she was not taking no for an answer. Jane left the restaurant to get away from her. She was very upset. Understandably upset.

She then went home and did what alot of people do....she complained about it, in a status on facebook. From there it took on a life of its own. People got together and a nurse in was organized.Turns out women feel strongly about their right to nurse without being confronted and harassed.

The Concord Monitor has put out an article titled, "State Law is on the side of nursing mom." This law was put in place so women don't have to put up with this condenscending behavior. The attitude "she chose to breastfeed in public so she gets what she gets" is the reason that the law was put in place. To protect my sister and other mothers who need to feed their babies.

My sister works full time in a hospital and part time in a local nursing home as a registered nurse. During the protest there were drunken hecklers from the restaurant porch yelling about how she was on welfare and she was doing all of this to catch a check. As I write this, I realize for the first time....these comments probably stem from my experience there seven or eight years ago, as an employee. A young single mother, in school full time, on "the foodstamps" who they all loved to talk about. Wow. I guess their comments make a little more sense now...not much more but, wow.

While we held our signs celebrating breastfeeding on the sidewalk, Jody started taunting, "Hi Jane, Hi Jane" over and over again until my sister finally acknowledged her with a guarded, "Hi Jody." The waitress's response? A sarcastic, catty "Do you need a napkin?" followed by a peal of laughter. Laughter shared by another bartender from the same establishment. This comment was one of the last things that the waitress said to Jane, before Jane walked out of the restaurant that day. Compare that to the act she put on for the camera on the local news station.

The behavior exhibited on the porch towards nursing mothers, some with older children in tow, was what was disgusting, not my sister nursing her baby in preparartion for a peaceful dinner."Dirty bags", "feeder", "immoral", the list goes on....one guy even yelled, "What about my right not to see that shit??" These are not the actions of reasonable people. People that are capable of this behavior are not fooling anybody into believing that the situation was approached with any understanding or politeness.

The emotional toll this has taken on my sister has been devastating to watch. All she was doing was nursing her child and now she is in national headlines. She's trending on yahoo, for crying out loud!! She never thought that standing up for her rights would turn into something so big. My sister doesn't want to be a pioneer for breastfeeding mothers or women's rights. In fact, she just broke down in tears on Friday morning, saying "I don't want any of this, I just wanted to nurse my baby and eat my dinner." She has been bullied. She is eight years younger than me and really, she is my first baby. I love her so much.

I guess I can understand why some of the people that frequent this restaurant and their employees have participated in the name calling and less than enlightened banter coming off of that porch that day. This restaurant is the only consistent restaurant in town that has a bar and they don't have anywhere else to hang out. This group has hopped on this small bandwagon and demonized my sister. Keep telling eachother that my sister is a slutty breastfeeder, so you can justify your behavior. You could have probably kept your mouth shut and still hung out there but then maybe you wouldn't be as popular.

To all the women sitting on that porch participating, or not participating but making your stance clear by what side of the fence (literally) that you were standing on, you are welcome. Because my sister and I, along with other like minds, were fighting for your rights and your daughter's rights, as well. As Madeleine Albright, former U.S. Secretary of State said, "There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women." I guess there is a special place in heaven for the rest of us? ;)

This baby looks positively scandalized!! What?? A napkin?? ON MY HEAD??

Nurse on all you pretty mamas....cuz I got your back. Especially you Janie Bird.

Love,

Dorothy



Daddy Bird

I fight for the underdog. I could never stand it when people got picked on in school. I am remembered fondly for it....and I always feel a bit proud when the subject is brought up. I don't remember feeling brave. I remember feeling MAD. You wanna pin him up against a locker? How do you fucking like it?

You especially didn't want to put your hands on my siblings. They are my first babies. I would still act crazy, to this day, if one of my babies got picked on!! I remember one kid pushed my little brother off the stone wall in our neighborhood. The neighbor and his offending friend hid in their house when I went over to settle the score. I was so pissed off by the time I got on the school bus the next morning that I assaulted BOTH of them. Repeatedly. Slaps in the face for the better part of the bus ride. That shit needed an answer, you heard?? From mama bear.

I got mad at Russell for doing the same thing a weekend or so ago. We were at a bar in Manchester, a totally disgusting little place called Raxx. We decided we wanted to leave early because, frankly, our yard with a fire was more fun than this place. We were saying our goodbyes in the smelly alley, behind the bar, when a friend of a friend, decided that he could probably scale the brick wall, up to a fire escape. At this point, I would like to mention that this partiular wall scaler, is one of the most benign characters I have ever encountered.

He jumped up on the wall, like Spider Man, and got his elbows hooked on the floor of the fire escape. We were all smiling and laughing, "Haha! Nice dude!", when a man walked up under him, grabbed one of his legs and started pulling down on him. "Get off the building, get off the building," he kept saying. Now if you understand the kids position, getting off the building in the manner in which the man wanted him off the building, would have caused him bodily harm. So his only option was to hang on for dear life while his leg got wrenched on.

We all stood there at first. I didn't even realize that the guy was serious until I saw how hard the kid was holding on to avoid getting pulled violently to the ground, from fifteen feet in the air. Once I realized what was happening I immediately ran over and said, "He can't let go until you let go!! Let go!!" My other girlfriend was pleading, "Just ask him to get down!" I am not sure if "Leg Puller" lessened his hold at this point, or the kid miraculously figured out how to navigate the situation, but somehow he freed his leg and dropped to the ground.

"Leg Puller" immediately advances on the gentle wall climber, pinning him against the wall and berating him for climbing on "his building." It seems to me, at this point, that we are dealing with a bully. Bullies advance on gentle souls that allow pricks to back them up against a wall. People like Russell, get in bully's faces. Russell yells, "Hey! Hey!," as the guy tries to ignore him. "Leg Puller" doesn't really want to deal with Russell. No potential to bully unchecked there.

The guy turns to Russell, as he is given no choice. I realize that Russell might end up in jail if things don't go another direction. So I try the old, "Walk away, honey. Lets just leave." I am ignored, the crazy eyes are already on their target. Russell yells, "Can you do me a favor? Only if you have time....GO FUCK YOURSELF!!" The guy's monkey looking girlfriend starts yelling, "You better watch yourself!" And "Leg Puller" is yelling, "Leave! Get out of here." And Russell the whole while, waving his arms, and coming up with hilariously witty and infuriating insults. Chaos.

We somehow get in the car without the fight actually ensuing. Russell had enough sense not to attack without being physically assaulted first, and lets face it, "Leg Puller" wasn't about to open that can of whoop ass. I was furious with Russell. "When I ask you to walk away, YOU WALK AWAY. You have three children to think about. Are you trying to get thrown in jail??" He looks at me and says, "Honey? What was I supposed to do. He had Pete pinned up against the wall. Pete didn't know what to do! It worked too. He left him alone after that."

I realize then, that it wasn't about being a tough guy. It was about protecting our friend who scaled the wrong brick wall. Russell was like the colorful daddy bird, creating a distraction from the nest. He was right too. It did work.

So I am not really sure what the point of this blog was....that we bully bullies? Is that wrong too? I guess if it is wrong, I don't wanna be right :)


Here I am smooshing my baby's face....I really love his ass!!

"Mom. I love you."

I started doing laundry at 3 pm on a Friday and didn't stop until 1 pm on a Saturday, with the exception of five hours of sleep. All the while packing for an overnight camping trip for my entire family of five. The whole morning the kids were super excited to go see Roots of Creation and I was stressing about how much I had to do before we could leave. Which was a disproportionate amount, considering the hours I had already put into the project. I kept thinking, "Once I leave its going to be smooth sailing....just got to get them strapped down in the car."

Amongst a litter of children and mayhem, I packed every little thing I needed and got the laundry well under control.. Getting distracted by fist fights and requests to "wipe my butt please? I wiped three times and its still comin' up brown!!" Or better yet, no request to wipe ass but a holler of "Mom!! Come look at my poop! It looks like a puppy!!" Before I can answer that another squabble ensues as the other sister tries to flush it before the pooper can show off her prize. Constant singing and tv blasting and fights over my phone and my laptop getting kicked over. Me screaming, "Get the fuck out of my house NOW!!" I was so frazzled by the time we were actually rolling down the road, that I didn't even want to go anymore.

The fights from the back seat were ridiculous. "Mom, her arm is touching my arm." "Mom!! Her hair keeps touching me." I am sure there were more but some of it is blocked out for sanity purposes. While they were stressing me out in the outside world, I was in my own head....worrying about keeping track of my kids in a crowd of potential kidnappers. The irony here is that while these little girls whine and drive me crazy, with no apparent thought of how badly it is stressing me out, I am imagining how devastating my life would be without them.

We picked up daddy, (my king and savior), on the way and finally arrived at Julie's house. The kids started playing drums and rattles and singing. I asked Julie if she was worried that they were going to break her bongo....she wasn't. I was nervous that they were annoying the other people at the party with their loud singing, drum banging, tambourine shaking, etc. I hovered a bit and then came to grips with the fact that these people were enjoying my children. Immensely.

And then I started enjoying my children, as well. I couldn't go five minutes without someone telling me how amazing they thought my children were. This one hula hoops so well, this one sings so well, this one is so smart....and I felt a twinge of guilt for how short I had been with these amazing children all day!! What would these people think of me kicking them out of their own house or yelling, "I don't want to look at your poop!! I don't care how cute it is!!"

We arrived at the concert and set our blankets up on the grass. The kids started hula hooping and playing with all my friends. There were grown ass people playing "butterfly catcher", a game consisting of one person chasing another person, while trying to catch said person, inside a hula hoop. Girls young and old, rolling in the grass, giggling hysterically. Believe it or not, the best is yet to come.

The music started.

I have always loved Roots of Creation but to watch my kids soak it in with all the wonder of a baby seeing something for the first time, was enough to erase infinity stressful days. Maya was hula hooping exactly in time with the music, pleased as punch at all the impressed faces noticing her mad skills. Isabel was dancing with the beloved Tina and running back and forth to give Julie and Suria, (the coveted new baby), hugs and kisses. And Stella. Just staring at every move that Brett made, humming the tune to herself, and rocking in perfect time with the beat. Right up front. Just like mama.

Maya and Isabel got tired of the scene up front and kept going back to the blanket to do various things like, learn sign language from Sam, or talk about what they wanted to be when they grew up, or whatever else those silly adult ladies could come up with to entertain my children. Let me tell you, they came up with alot.

But Stella. All she wanted to do was go back to study Brett's every little finger pick and taking in that face he makes while playing the guitar...almost like he is in pain. Yet she completely understood. She couldn't wipe the smile of wonder off of her face. When the band took a break she turned to me and said, "Mom. Can we go find Brett so I can tell him what a good job he is doing?" I couldn't have been any more in love with that child right then.

As the time went by and it became further and further past bedtime, I began to wonder, "When are these kids going to start getting whiny and break this spell?" The spell was not to be broken. The smiles got more tired but they didn't go anywhere. In the middle of the band's rendition of Sugaree, as Brett picked out the first cords of his guitar solo, Stella reached up and tapped my arm to get my attention. I leaned down close, expecting to hear, "I'm tired", but instead I received a serene, "Mom. I love you."

In this moment, I don't question why I am here in this world, as I sometimes might. I am sure I am here to love these perfect girls, Maya, Isabel and Stella. And I am sure, for once, that I am doing a fantastic fucking job ;)

When asked to tell me what their favorite part of the experience.....

Maya's answer: "The ice cream and having an eight year old look up to me because of my hula hooping."
Isabel's answer: "Making up songs with Brett and Juliana."
Stella's answer: "Dancing at the music and spending time with the baby cuz that baby was the cutest       
                          thing in the world."


This lil bloggy blog is dedicated to Brett, Juliana and baby Suria Wilson....for fostering this fabulous experience.

The End is Near

I was trying to think about what I should write and for the first time, I got a little worried about this blog thing. What the hell do people want to hear about if I don't have a sweet Father's Day story or a juicy dig on an unnamed local business? And then it hit me. My weight. People love that shit!! This may be a slightly different angle, though. I tend to post when I have a signifigant weight loss number to report but not so much if I am slipping up.....AND I AM SLIPPING UP!!

When I left for the festival I was at the 47 pound mark in my weight loss journey. After four days of partying, walking, dancing, laughing and laughing some more, I came home at the 52 pound mark. Wasn't that a fun post??!! I love how those blow up!!

I would like to add in here that I hurt my shoulder during roller derby practice on May 14th and have been unable to do yoga or my yoga booty weight routine for the past....wow, five weeks??!! I didn't even realize that until I just counted it out on the calendar right now. The yoga really helps me mentally. I feel happier and more relaxed....and the weights just make me stronger. I am really missing it but every time I try to pull out a downward dog or a pushup, it just hurts too much. So I feel like I have lost something of my edge, mentally.

Obviously I don't appear to be any bigger and obviously I have enough strength to lift big ass bunny cages so I haven't lost much progress physically. I have been jogging, sometimes alot....sometimes not for four days!! Like right now. I haven't jogged for four days. I would be remiss to leave out that I haven't been having my salad for dinner. I have eaten alot of  Tooky Mills and Chuck and Clucks from the Sausage Source because it all tastes so fucking good. Just keepin' it real, here ;)

So the story goes: with leisurely jogging and walking most days plus consuming lots of the wrong calories, I am now back down to 47 pounds total weight loss. Not only have I NOT lost more, I have gained back five pounds. So i weigh the same right now that I weighed a month ago. Lame.

Some of you are probably thinking, "You look great! Don't be so hard on yourself! Live a little! Thats not a big weight gain." I ask you to please stop. I rationalize enough on my own. I can be fairly impressionable. Especially when you are telling my addiction what it wants to hear.

The fact of the matter is that I started this health endeavor knowing that I had at least 75 pounds to lose and I have only lost 47 of those offending pounds. I can't stall out now, after doing almost 2/3 of the work. Time to stop spending money I don't have on take out food....even if it IS my Thursday night with Kathy and I just got paid. Time to strap on my running shoes....even though I lost my ambition after spending twenty minutes looking for clean sweat pants and got frustrated at the unfairness of it all. ;)

In summary, I didn't make lame excuses to eat wrong and exercise less to lose the first fifty pounds. I am sure as hell not going to start now for the last, measly twenty five pounds. The end is near.I need to make one last push for the next 6-8 weeks and then I can maintain. Its called will power. I'm going to eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Peace <3

Just an inspirational photo of me....3 weeks and five pounds ago ;)

Love y'all <3

Coffee Shop Dilemna!

For the better part of the past five years I have been going to the same coffee shop in my little town. I go for the iced mocha cappuccino and one sweet little employee who makes it soooo nice. We'll call her Zephila. Seriously, I take a my first sip and its like oxygen....chocolate coffee oxygen. Love that little barista.

The drink costs $3.27, which is a baseline of $23 per week, $97.67 per month, $1,196 per year. Here we come to the point....I pay that much for the drink because it tastes good. I also run a tab so I never think about how much money I am spending unless its once every couple of weeks. I guess I pay for the atmosphere as well. The building is an old New England style building, the music is playing, the girls are smiling....its a feel good time.

Until you get your iced mocha cappuccino with a layer of chocolate on the bottom, a sheer layer of white milk, and then coffee on top. At thins point, in order to get any semblance of the drink you were dreaming of you have to shake the drink in your car. Which ruins the whipped cream on top and the whole experience in general. Not to mention fielding all the little drips that ensue, along with the feelings of frustration and the thought, "I am spending too much money on this little drink for all this hassle!!"

The problem with getting the drink made right is that there are always new people, and then there are not so new people that don't know they are doing it wrong....and then there is me, not wanting to say anything because they are all so sweet and I don't want to inconvenience them by asking them to make it again. This is the part where you all say, "So what? You are paying a pretty penny for that drink. It should be right!"

So I said something, nicely, to Zephila, and requested that she teach the other girls how she does it, so I can have my lovely drink from whomever happens to be there when I come in. She was happy to do that and she was also in a position of authority, (probably cuz she does it right!), so I wasn't putting her into a position where she was telling her co-workers what to do where she wouldn't be otherwise.

So a couple of the girls got it down and my good drink percentage went up....but I kept getting nasty drinks from a couple of the girls. Last week, on Sunday, I ordered my drink and my heart sank when I saw one girl in particular decide to take on the task....we'll call her Eve. So I catch Zephila and I say, right in front of Eve, "Zephila, can you please show Eve how you make my drink because everytime she makes it, the drink is in three separate layers." Zephila was more than happy to do so, (thats why we like her), but I felt bad because it was obvious from the body language and the pursed lips that Eve didn't like being told what to do. Which is probably why she doesn't make it right in the first place!! She don't fucking listen!

I left that day with a delectable coffee drink and feeling like, "Yeah, I just handled that."

I went in this past saturday, feeling good, looking good, heading to a beach party....excited for my drink. Eve was working, along with another new girl and the owner's husband. We'll call him Richard....Dick, for short. Dick has never been a big part of the coffee shop experience, just around sometimes on weekends but for the most part, works another job. Before I could even ask for my drink, the owner's husband, (which I guess makes him the owner too), pops off at the mouth, "Oh! We don't have anyone here today that can make your 'special' drink." This comment is complete with a slam of a container on the table, raised eyebrows, angry/scary eyes and a refrigerator door slam.

I am a tough girl, but I was a little scared and taken off guard. My strategey was to try to ignore the behavior and respond reasonably with my nicest, least confrontational demeanor, (WHICH WAS ONLY POSSIBLE BECAUSE I WAS SCARED!!) "Thats not true. Zephila showed Eve how to do it the other day." His response was, "Well I don't know if she can make it good enough for you. Are you going to hold it against her if its not up to your standards? I wouldn't want you to hold it against her!" Again, all said with sarcasm and angry body language. I did not respond. At this point, Eve says sheepishly, "I will make your drink for you Dorothy."

I went to my car and grabbed my debit card, knowing that I am so upset that I am probably not coming back....and as much as I just wanted to run home and cry and tell my man everything, I had to go back in and take care of my tab. So I would never have to come back. I told Eve that I was upset and I was going to have to think about whether or not I would come back in....that I felt emotional and attacked, which is very out of place considering that I just came into a coffee shop to buy a drink. She apologized several times, making excuses for his behavior....busy, stressful morning, something about a phone call he got while at work, maybe a big order he had to deal with....I don't know, I was trying so hard not to break down crying in a public place while she ran my credit card that this part isn't super clear to me.

I was also getting more upset thinking about how obviously I had been talked about in a negative manner....little bitch that you can't please, fuck the customer attitude. So frustrating because I am not the person you are going to catch being rude to anyone in customer service. Its the bitch that gets angry and doesn't tiptoe around everyone's feelings that gets the customer service they are looking for.....I think?

The worst and the best part of this story is, that after I had my crying jag in the car, away from what used to be my beloved coffee shop, I took a sip of my last iced mocha cappuccino from that building, and you know what? It was the first flipping drink that Eve ever got right. :)

This is me....BEFORE I went to the coffee shop. Could it be that it was so simple then?? ;)

Father's Day

Maya asked me today if I would help her build a bird house for Russell. My first thought was, "I don't feel like making a bird house!" I decided that saying yes would be the right thing to do, regardless. I say to her, "Maya, I have no idea how to make a bird house...." She replies, "Mama, I have picured it in my head. I know what to do." She runs away to the other side of the garage to pick through the scrap wood pile.
At this moment, I realize that I don't know how to run a power saw. I don't think I have ever even touched one, except to move it out of my way in the garage. I feel a little hopeless. Do I just do it, and learn it as I go? Immediately I picture severed fingers and decide against this.
Russell happens to come out of the house at this point. I quickly give him the rundown without telling him what the project actually is....he smiles and says, "I would rather if you girls didn't try to do this on your own." Maya comes running out from the side of the house and freezes when she sees Russell. He goes inside, like he doesn't notice that she can't look at him and is smirking uncontrollably.
I plead, "Maya, unfortunately we need Russell to make this work. Can you just explain to him what you want cut, without telling him what it is for? " She struggles with her answer, trying to figure out how NOT to involve him and comes to the same conclusion....we NEED him to build this bird house. So she goes inside, into the kitchen, and says, "Russell, I want to build you something for Father's Day but I can't do it unless you cut me the pieces." What she doesn't realize in this moment and maybe he doesn't realize it either, is that this is the best Father's Day gift. Showing him how much we need him!!

She brought him all the wood and he cut it all, just how she wanted it. She screwed them all together with a screw gun, her little brow furrowed in concentration. And she built the perfect birdhouse.