Your Facebook Profile Picture Doesn't Do a Damn Thing to Fight Child Abuse

I had a completely different post planned for today... and then I got annoyed.  Annoyance turned to anger.  Anger turned to fury.  Fury became this blog post.

You know, I hope by now I've established in previous posts that I have a sense of humor.  I am all for fun.  I can take a joke.  But someone has to call bullshit on all this phony Facebook activism.

Photo Credit: frogDNA via Flickr Creative Commons

The latest internet meme to pollute my Facebook newsfeed calls for us to change our profile pictures to that of our favorite cartoon character from childhood.  When I first saw friends changing their pictures to beloved cartoon characters, I thought "cute" or "Oh I remember that one," but I didn't know why.  As more pictures changed, the usual calls requesting others to do the same came along with them.  No reason given.  I think someone said something about not wanting to see a human face on Facebook. Ok, whatever.  I even gave in for a couple of days.  I love 80's cartoons after all.  Later I changed it to my Christmas Tree because I was feeling festive and forgot all about the cartoon thing.  Finally, after a couple of weeks, an explanation of the cartoon phenomenon finally pops up on my page in the form of this Facebook status reposted here verbatim.

"change your FB profile picture to a favorite cartoon from your childhood. The goal is to not see a human face on FB till Monday, December, 6th. Join the fight against child abuse."

Really? Pardon me for one second...

HOW THE FUCK DOES CHANGING MY FACEBOOK PROFILE PICTURE FIGHT CHILD ABUSE?

Santa Claus is a Stalker, Trespasser, Vigilante and Might Also be a Pedophile

Photo Credit: Kevin Dooley

I decided to teach my two-year old son about Christmas by watching the movie Elf with him.  Granted, there are probably better movies to demonstrate the Christmas spirit such as It's a Wonderful Life or A Christmas Story, but honestly I find them boring. Besides, I like Will Ferrell.  There are also probably better ways to teach your child about Christmas other than watching television, but my Christmas repertoire is limited.  I grew up in a household where we did not celebrate Christmas and my husband comes from a broken home in the inner city.  I have no holiday traditions and he was happy to have heat.  Needless to say, we don't have much experience to pull from.  Hence we are building our own traditions! We pick out what we like. We toss out what we don't.  There's no "that's how we did it growing up" to bog us down.  Therefore, Elf it is!

* Elf Spoiler alert * So at the end of the movie Zooey Deschanel gets up and starts singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" in order to spread Christmas Cheer and save Santa Claus' sleigh.  The boy-child loves it. So we've started singing that song together. A lot. Like all the time. He's obsessed.  Of course I sing along with him.  With all this repetitive singing going on I began to actually really listen to the lyrics. I gotta tell you.  Santa is kind of a creepy motherfucker.  At least by 21st century standards.  Let's dissect these lyrics shall we?

A Post-Thanksgiving Day Lament and Lessons Learned From Boob Juice

Food hangover. 

Photo Credit: greenshock

Wherever you may be this post-Thanksgiving Day, you are likely experiencing the same bloated, tryptophan-induced coma that I am in.  As I lay here in a stupor contemplating how yesterday's indulgences are being converted to ass-fat, I can't help but smile remembering the garlic mashed potatoes and pumpkin cheesecake. Classic comfort food mixed with maybe a dash of emotional overeating.

Photo Credit: amasc

 

 

 

 

I have struggled with weight my whole life. In the last three years after two pregnancies, my weight has swung up and down by 80 pounds or more at a time.  I know how to lose weight, but I can also put it on like nobody's business.  With this history, I certainly know what all the doctors, nutritionists and fitness gurus have to say about holiday eating and comfort food.  We should look to food as fuel.  We need to remove the sentimentality we have attached to such high-calorie favorites as mac 'n cheese and sweet potatoes swimming in brown sugar and topped with marshmallows.

{Pause for drool.}

Photo Credit: Christy Scherrer

So in the midst of my Thanksgiving recovery, I take a moment to observe my daughter who is enjoying her own feast at the breast.  This girl is going to town! She is in bliss.  Her little legs are kicking in delight and she's stroking my breast like her favorite puppy.  The mere sight of my areola elicits peals of infant laughter.  (I am glad to know this is because she is happy to see my breasts, not because of the cruelty of gravity.) Upon further reflection I realize no one comfort eats like a baby breastfeeding.  I whip out the boob not only when she is hungry, but when she is tired, when she is sad, when she is hurt, when she is anxious.  Certainly this must be emotional eating at its finest.  Boob juice is her comfort food.  This need to suckle and nurse is a deeply ingrained survival instinct.  So if our natural human tendency is to seek food for comfort (despite what all the experts advise) aren't we all basically screwed?  It's time to call bullshit!  Time to break out the eatin' dress, a bib and a shovel and succumb to our primal urges.  It is our evolutionary destiny to gorge on leftover stuffing!

And yet, studies have shown that breastfeeding reduces the risk of children becoming overweight.  In fact, the longer you breastfeed, the lower the odds of your children being overweight.  Hmmmm... so where is the disconnect?  What do babies innately know that we have forgotten?  Let's take a moment to examine this:

The Daddy Stitch: Is It Really a Myth? OR The Truth About Vaginal Delivery

During my six-week checkup following the birth of my second child, many thoughts ran through my head. I was feeling relatively good versus how I felt after my first delivery (an unplanned c-section,) and pretty proud of having accomplished a successful VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean.) These pleasant thoughts were abruptly replaced with the feeling of "OUCH!"

Photo Credit: Keturah Stickann John Menier

Obviously, I believe in VBAC, but for now I am not going to use this forum as my soapbox to tell you why you should try to avoid a cesarean.  I leave this to other learned sources such as The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists and The International Cesarean Awareness Network.  I also believe in giving women a fair and balanced account with a bit of my own brand of naughty chair vernacular.  As I have mentioned before, there's not enough frank and honest dialogue at playgroup, although there's lots of talk about diaper absorbency.

So to my sisters out there considering a VBAC, or even you first-time moms about to deliver, let me tell you what happens to your precious vajay jay.   Sure the recovery is easier but I think a lot of VBAC enthusiasts aren't upfront about what the actual recovery is like.  To hear them tell it, you will be dancing in a field of flowers doing somersaults and cartwheels while cradling your angelic newborn with a cone-shaped head.  The truth is recovery from any birth is not easy.  A VBAC may be easier, but the emphasis is on the "-er" not the "easy".

Sometimes Mommy Needs a Time Out

 

Photo Credit: Bloody Pop

Before I was a mom I was a rock star. Okay, that's a lie I wasn't a rock star. At best I was a groupie although I believe there is a distinction between trying to bed a rock star and actually doing so. But before I had kids I had my share of fun that could fall under the rock star banner. I look fondly back on those days but would I go back? Nah... being a mom rocks in a much better way, with far less risk of being arrested.