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2001-06-09 | 2:40 p.m.

I applied to join a diaryring for mothers who practice attachment parenting and was not accepted for membership. I didn't get a formal rejection letter in the mail; I just never received any word of approval, and it's been some time since I applied. So I must assume that I have been rejected.

Okay, whatever. I have plenty of diaryring memberships to comfort me in my despair.

It's funny to me, though, because of all the diaryrings I've joined, I have a pretty solid claim to this one. That's just my opinion, of course. I realize that my diary doesn't greatly reflect this tendency, because I don't define myself primarily as an AP mother. Still, no one can tell me I haven't lived the life.

The truth is, it hardly occurs to me anymore to feel embarrassed or defiant or even proud that my son sleeps in our bed (and my daughters, whenever they can swing it, though they are five years old now and it is only a queen-size bed and not fit for five people), or that I continue to nurse him pretty much whenever he wants even though he is almost three years old. I do not reflect much on the fact that Jasper is uncircumcised, while Duff is not. I've gotten pretty wound up about these subjects in the past, but now it just feels like the way we live. It wouldn't necessarily occur to me to define myself as a tooth-brushing, nail-clipping, ass-wiping, dish-washing, unable-to-program-the-VCR-for-recording unkempt fat woman, either---though of course I am all of these things.

I only nursed my twins until they were two and a half. I had been willing to nurse them as long as they wanted, but when I got pregnant with Jasper, my hormones went haywire and suddenly every time I tried to nurse was like a torture session. I consider myself reasonably good at pain management, but this I could not handle. So I told the girls that it hurt too much and after a while, we stopped. They were confused, angry, and upset, especially Criminy; I wasn't happy about it either---I still feel pangs of guilt and remorse about it---but I tried to make it clear to them, with words and cuddles, that it was just an unexpected development, not a rejection.

We did carry the babies in slings when they were little. No solids until they were at least six months old. We had a cloth diaper service for the first year with the girls. No cow's milk, or chocolate (or honey, of course) until they were over a year. We always had a family bed and we never had sleep problems to speak of, which inspired more than one couple to hate us passionately. In my own awkward way, I try to pique people's interest in Dr. Sears's books, the Bradley method, and the scientific research that supports these practices, when appropriate, and to the best of my ability, I combat ignorance when it combats me. (Tip: Any woman hapless enough to confide in me, in a discussion of circumcision, that she "doesn't like" uncircumcised penises receives my stock response: Good thing you won't be having sex with my son!) I've done battle with our parents, with friends, and with strangers, debating the merits of these practices and defending my beliefs many, many times. Just as parents on the other side of the issue think it's weird and nutty to have a family bed or breastfeed a toddler, I think it's weird to feed your children formula if you don't have to and I think it's deeply and disturbingly strange to put your baby in a crib in a different room and then walk out while they are crying. But I also know and teach my kids that it's important to be respectful of other people's choices. Everyone is different.

On the other hand, I don't think of myself as a particularly good mother. I have spanked my kids, even though I don't believe in spanking. I yell at them and sometimes I say cruel and disrespectful things. Not on a daily basis, but enough times that it always takes me out of the running for mother of the year. I think the worst thing I ever did was to carry Felony down two steps---by her head. I put my hands under her jawbone and ears and lifted her up like that. It didn't seem to hurt her, but it scared the hell out of me. I do apologize to them after I've lost control, which almost seems more psycho than doing it in the first place. (It makes me think of an abusive husband beating up his wife and then bringing her flowers and promising never to do it again.) I have been neglectful: at times I allow the TV to be a babysitter, though I do monitor and filter what they watch, for the most part. I've fed them less-than-wholesome food just as often as I've fed them wholesome food; maybe more so. Sometimes when Jasper asks me to nurse I snarl "You've had enough!" and then he cries and pleads and I say "No!" and try to ignore him and then he pulls my shirt every which way and stretches it all out and says "Peas, peas Mommy," and I tell him "You're a big boy now, you don't need to nurse all the time!" and he cries and says "You're mean! I don't like you! You're not my friend!" and then he goes away and cries and comes back and pulls at my shirt some more and says "Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeas, peas Mommy," in the most pitiable little voice you've ever heard, until I get so pissed I finally nurse him because it's easier than arguing. He knows how to work me and he always wins.


I can assure you that you will find none of those tactics in the attachment parenting books. Not least of all because they don't work. So maybe they were right not to let me in the diaryring. I am not the poster child for this or any other alternative lifestyle. But for the record, I believe in it. I am passionately committed to the practices of breastfeeding, babywearing, and family bed, and I have written about it elsewhere, trying to spread the word. I think our commitment to the principles of attachment parenting have made better children out of my children and a better mother out of me---better than I would have been, anyway. For what it's worth. But ultimately I guess I'm the kind of mother that kids talk about with their therapist.

But at least they'll be thinking of me.

Now, as to my other diaryrings. I've never been much of a joiner. I don't enjoy meetings and I don't like to feel obligated. Despite how much I talk about bumper stickers in my diary, I have none on my car. I don't like to be pinned down. I feel as if I am more than what I appear to be, and I cannot be summed up by two bumper stickers and a funny haircut. To be glib about it, I contain multitudes. Having said that, I've really enjoyed joining all the diaryrings. Because it's an opportunity to hint at those multitudes, to celebrate them even, without actually paying membership dues. So I don't feel guilty about joining so many diaryrings. There are, however, a few rings (aside from the attachment parenting ring) where I feel that I have not yet adequately demonstrated my commitment. These are the shutterbugs, photo-chicks, and film-flam rings. I am what you could call a serious amateur photographer, by which I mean I take pretty great snapshots and occasionally competent artistic photos. I've had my own darkroom in the past. This year, I hope and intend to put together a children's book that will feature my own photographs. But I don't have a digital camera and our scanner is not the best, so it takes an extra effort to get the pictures online (not to mention I've only had a gold membership for a short time). Plus I'm a lazy pig. But I swear I will have more pictures to show you as time goes by.

As for the Film-Flam diaryring, I'm not sure why I haven't written more about movies in my diary, because I think about them all the time. Not just think about them but frame ideas and situations in relation to films I've seen, and when I talk to friends we tend to use film analogies, and so on. So I definitely hope to pick up the slack there. But in general I try not to be too influenced here by what I think I ought to be writing. Instead I try to let my ideas for the diary bubble up on their own.

Postscript: Jeez, Diaryland has been down for more than a couple of minutes and I'm starting to exhibit physical symptoms of withdrawal. As I write this, I have CTRL-C'ed my entry but I have nowhere to CTRL-V it, and the anxiety is starting to crest. Maybe I'm getting a little too attached to my diary. As Diane would say, Ya think?

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