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  • Why Do You Want To Give My Baby Cancer?

    I know this might sound overbearing, but I really want to keep my baby alive. I don’t know, call it mammalian maternal instinct or the fact that I think eating her would be too many empty calories, but my plan is for The Munch to keep living.

    So when my friend sent me this article about toxic car seats that cause neurodevelopmental toxicity, learning disabilities, liver damage and cancer, I thought to myself… WTF????!!!!! Why are they putting arsenic, lead, cadmium, and mercury in car seats for babies??? Babies sit in those things???!! Babies that we are trying to protect from car accidents!! Who thought it would be a good idea to coat a car seat in cancer causing chemicals???? It makes me feel like I should be like Brittany Spears and just drive with The Munch on my lap!

    What is wrong with the world?

    Part of me is totally resigned at times and thinks “Well, everything causes cancer Munch, here, play with my cell phone if it means you will shut your pie hole for a minute…” but the other part of me says that this is totally wack! Why do we put known poisonous chemicals in products and then expose them to our children?

    Do we really need crayons that say “non toxic” on them? What is that supposed to mean? That there are toxic crayons I could buy instead? Sign me up! Think of all the BPA free plastics for kids now too. If BPA causes deathly diseases keep it in that bottle for sure! My baby is only going to be sucking on it. In fact, why don’t you give her a skin transplant of pure parabens and then scrub her till she bleeds with sodium laurel phosphate. Yes!!!!!!!

    This is like a baby Thelma and Louise in car seats!

    August 25, 2011 • 1 year old, Baby Gear, Environmental Impact, Health • Views: 1264

  • Reading Rainbow

    I remember once sitting on the train while I was living in New York City, and this Japanese girl was looking at a card across from me. On the front of the card were all these Japanese characters, and I noticed she was looking at it for what seemed to me an absurdly long time. I kept thinking, “Why doesn’t she just open the card and read it?” But then I realized something… She was still reading the front of the card!!!! For me the Japanese characters were just pretty pictures to glance over, but to her they were actual letters that formed words for her to read! Nuts!

    When you think about how much reading is a part of our modern western culture it is hard to believe that for most of human history very few people were educated enough to read and write. Girls in particular were rarely taught these skills and instead learned the oh so important tasks of sewing, weaving, churning butter, and giving blow jobs. What!? Where did that come from?

    Being able to read empowers you in so many ways. Not only does reading allow you a sense of freedom to manipulate and maneuver in the world, but it also empowers you to take control of your own education. Think of the difference of being totally dependent on other people to learn from, and the independence of reading something yourself and having the capacity to determine its meaning from your own subjective analysis.

    Socrates, however, was very much against the written word because he believed that too much was left for misinterpretation. The author cannot defend their points to the reader, and there is a danger to how people can bastardize what they read. For Socrates, dialogue was the supreme form to pursue knowledge and philosophy for it honors the quest of questioning rather than the concretization of thought through writing. But would we even have known any of what Socrates had thought if Plato hadn’t written it all down? And what if your community is full of douchebags and the most intellectual stimulus you have is through what you can expose yourself to through reading?

    So considering the complexity of reading vs dialogue, I figure the best practice for me to engage The Munch in both is to read to her and then talk about what we just read. This is the problem I have encountered thus far, however. The Munch is a freaking baby and reading to her is retarded. Although she seems to enjoy it, she turns the pages too fast, flips around from the front to the back, closes the book, and then re-opens it in the wrong place. Not to mention the fact that children’s books are boring and repetitive as fuck, and when I try to talk about what the brown bear saw all she says is “ball… ball….ball…”

    August 24, 2011 • 1 year old, Baby Brain, Education, Parenting • Views: 1038

  • Swagger

    I am insanely sick and I want to cry… like a big baby… a big mommy baby…

    But The Munch has some serious swagger to her walk…. and this video brings me so much joy in this time of feeling super sorry for myself…
    munch swagger

    August 12, 2011 • 1 year old, Health, Mommy Mind • Views: 1986

  • The Olden Days

    Are you still a hypocrite if you know what you are saying is hypocritical? If I acknowledge the irony of complaining about the over technological materialism of modern times while blogging on my Mac Book Pro because I can’t reach my Ipad, is it still ironic? Or am I just a douche?

    I tend to romanticize the olden days, and what I think it might have been like to live in an era when we were more connected to nature. For some reason, everything shrouded in history seems somewhat magical. Of course there were fairies, elves, and dragons in the middle ages… I mean there were public beheadings and burning people at the stake. Anything was possible.

    Whether I fantasize about Western culture, the Eastern Empire or indigenous communities, something about the past has always seemed superior to me. They weren’t watching crap television on the E channel, but making potions with alchemy or flying on the backs of ravens with shamans. People were wild. They lived off the land and knew how to bake bread, kill beasts, and ride horses through the woods. How did they know where they were going? Everything looks the same and there were no paths. People were raw, independent, and connected to their homeland. They went to war and killed each other face to face. Not with bombs and chemical warfare, but with swords, knives, arrows, and their hands, while the women made fires and soup and prayed there wouldn’t be any pillaging… because you know what usually comes along with that.

    But after dealing with The Munch and her fever, I am so grateful to be living amongst Star Magazine and 4,000,000 types of hair conditioner. Could you imagine your baby getting sick and the best option was to stick some leaches on them? Or just assuming that at least two of your kids were going to die, if you didn’t die first in childbirth, so you had six to make sure there were four left to plow the fields?

    “Wait… I don’t get it. Why do I have to churn better when there is some right behind me in this machine that runs on electricity?”

    July 28, 2011 • 9-12 months, Health, Musings • Views: 2147

  • The White Man’s Medicine

    I am one of those people who hasn’t taken an Advil for 15 years. I have a personal dedication to holistic and alternative healing… to the point where I had a yeast infection for 2 months using twigs and berries as a remedy because I refused the white man’s medicine Monistat. That, and I had already committed to healing holistically from this pesky brain tumor so I felt I had to stay consistent. I couldn’t expect to heal my brain if I couldn’t heal my vagina, and as any one knows the vagina is just as important as the silly brain.

    The reason I am thinking of all this is because The Munch got so sick I felt truly terrified. She had been miserable since last Wednesday, but I just figured she was teething. Looking back, I feel pretty dumb because her body felt super warm, but it was also super hot outside. You know… one of those weeks where you kept hearing unique statements like “hot enough for ya’?” and “staying cool?” What are people thinking when they say stuff like that? Why not just call it like it is. “Damn, it is as hot and moist as a turned on vagina right now!”

    I digress

    Luckily my friend Forrest came over to help me get my head out of my ass. What is that you say?? Oh, I do a lot of yoga so I am pretty flexible… that is how.

    “Umm Toni, The Munch is really is hot… I think you should take her temp.”

    “I tried to get the thermometer under her armpit earlier but she kept moving around so I gave up.” (Note to reader… I fully admit that is lame).

    “Ummmm, yeah, you got to go up the ass.” Lucky for me, Forrest knew what she was doing and when she stuck that metal stick up my daughters butt I knew she was a real friend.

    “102…”

    “Crap Forrest, what should we do?”

    “This is where I go to Google… Google will know.”

    So the magical world of the internet told us to give her some baby Advil/Tylenol to bring the fever down. Despite my dogmatic approach to myself, I just couldn’t fuck around with The Munch. Part of me wanted to say “Hey girl… mind over matter. Just will your temperature down like a Tibetan Buddhist monk…” but I was scared. I felt so vulnerable, and I just wanted her to feel better.

    An hour later, the Tylenol brought her fever down, so we went to bed. I thought we were okay, until she woke up at 3:00am vomiting, and shaking. Despite my normal aversion to hospitals and doctors, I was in the ER faster than… faster than…. a car… driving really fast.

    Her temp had risen to 105. They did blood work, shoved Tylenol up her butt, and tried twice to give her a catheter but couldn’t find her tiny baby pee hole. I had to stop them and say that is enough trying because I couldn’t stand it anymore. I personally didn’t even know you could put something up your pee hole, and they kept fumbling. So the nurse gave her a shot of antibiotics and sent us home. It was horrible. I know they were doing the best they could, but they didn’t really know what was wrong. I didn’t want to give her antibiotics because of how it effects your body’s natural immune system, but I felt so desperate. I wanted my breast milk to have the healing power of crystals in it and make everything okay, but I also want to have purple eyes and I guess we can’t control everything.

    The next day she was miserable. I couldn’t put her down, she cried the entire time she was awake, and would just say “mama mama mama mama” over and over and over again. We went back to the doctor where they put her on antibiotics for 10 days.
    Of course, everything has a consequence, so the antibiotics hurt her tummy and not only give her diarrhea, but painful gas and nice juicy wet farts. Now that is something to look forward to! So I am giving her probiotics to help her stomach handle the antibiotics, and I am sitting here wondering what the hell a biotic is?

    But today she is feeling better…. Is it the white mans’ medicine? Or would she have felt better anyway?? It is so hard to know for sure.

    So this is what I think about all this, because I am highly conflicted.

    I believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe that there are many natural remedies and cures out there. I believe that as a conscious person, you have a choice about your health and how best to heal. For my own health, I will always choose the dandelion powder and quail egg extract over anything I could get at CVS.

    But a baby is different. I don’t really know what is wrong with her. She can’t tell me what hurts, and I don’t think she gets it when I tell her “Think about what is going on in your life… what is the universe trying to tell you by this illness? Is there something in your life that you cannot stomach? That you need to purge? Is someone making you angry and that is why you are hot and have a fever? Is it repressed rage? Sickness is the true-self trying to communicate to the ego through the language of the body… what is your true-self saying?” Yeah… she just kind of gives me a blank stare.

    I think the homeopathic path is the best when you don’t feel totally frantic. But when you feel like you are dealing with an emergency, it is nice that we have the white man’s medicine even if it does make you shard* your pants.

    *Shard: When you shit your pants when you fart

    When she was sleeping all I could do was stare at the video monitor to make sure she was okay and still breathing ☹

    July 27, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Baby Body, Health, Parenting • Views: 1338

  • Mama Knows Best

    Have you ever gotten stung by a bee, wasp, or a yuppie? Doesn’t it suck? I always thought I had an allergy to bee stings. Partly because the sting would get swollen, puffy, and hurt for days and days… and partly because I thought it would get me attention.

    So the other day I was texting and walking through the grass, when out of nowhere stepped on a bee. Sure… the bee had to sacrifice its life because of me, but I misspelled my text because of this! Not to mention it hurt like crazy. I got so mad at my phone, the person I was texting, the world. Suddenly, life didn’t make any sense. Why was I being punished? I am good person right? What did I do to deserve this?

    As I dropped to my knees to curse God, my mom came outside.

    “What happened? You step on a bee?”

    “Yes! Yes! Why? Why God Why!?”

    My mom went inside, I figured to leave me in peace for my last few moments on planet earth, but then she came out with vinegar and an ice cube wrapped in a paper towel. She poured the vinegar on my foot.

    “This will get the stinger out.”

    “No Mom it won’t… it is in there forever… I will never walk again.”

    “Here, put some ice on it.”

    “Nothing is going to help me. Why even bother? I might as well just die.”

    I took the ice, smelled my foot, and strangely enough started craving a salad. I got on the phone to say my final goodbyes and noticed my foot didn’t really hurt anymore. After 10 minutes of icing it, it was actually fine. As if nothing had ever happened.

    “Huh… I guess my mom was right about that vinegar trick.”

    This whole fiasco made me realize I have a lot to learn about home remedies for when The Munch gets hurt. That way I can just swoop in wearing flowing white clothes and fix her burn with ladybug saliva and strawberry seeds.

    A wasp sting of my past… pre knowledge from my mama

    July 25, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Health, Parenting • Views: 2282

  • Belief Systems and Hugging Amma

    There are a wide range of beliefs out there in the world. You can believe in Santa Clause, Jesus, The Devil, Allah, that high heels make your butt look better… People have belief systems of how they should live their lives that impacts their moral code of ethics. We often filter our actions through our belief system to determine our behavior despite the highly personal and subjective experience of forming beliefs. There is often turmoil when people’s beliefs differ even though something doesn’t have to be a fact in order to believe in it. We don’t need concrete proof to believe, because the power of intuition is enough. There is something truly magical, and dangerous about beliefs. Such extremes as people refusing to eat carbs or going on a suicide missions are motivated by what someone believes in.

    I just thought of something. Wouldn’t it be funny to lick someone’s face the first time you meet them, and when they get upset just say…. “oh… you see, licking is part of my belief system. I believe it is the best way to communicate… so…. Yeah.”

    I question my personal beliefs, and the concept of passing beliefs on to my child. Part of me feels like it is indoctrination to force a belief on an impressionable young person. Yes, by living with me I am going to expose her to my beliefs, but does that mean I should lead her to think that everything I believe is true? Would that effect her capacity to come up with her own beliefs? Or if I am too adaptable about my beliefs would that confuse her? Is it better to be rigid even if your children eventually rebel?

    What got me thinking about all this is taking The Munch to hug Amma. From my vast extensive internet research, I have learnt that people have many varying beliefs about her. Some claim she is a saint, others believe her to be an energetic vampire. It is kind of hard for me to believe that someone that goes around hugging people would have bad intentions, but I also believe that deep down Tom and Jerry really loved each other. But despite the critics, there is a whole industry around her including Amma water bottles, hats, and dolls where the proceeds go to her wold wide philanthropy.

    Although I did not feel as if Amma was personally sucking my energy like Count Dracula, I did find the energy of the people at the event to be pushy and aggressive. In kept thinking “uhhhhh… aren’t we all here because we want a hug? Can’t we just simma down a bit and maybe hug each other rather than stomping on my toes to get to your coconut water?” People were literally like “Get the F out of my way! I am trying to get a god damn freaking hug here!” But the actual experience of the embrace felt quite peaceful, not to mention that she is the only human ever to live that has hugged 31 million people! What a unique life experience!

    I guess what I am saying is that maybe I don’t feel concrete enough about anything to tell my child that something is definite. Except for the absolute fact that aliens are living among us and the Royal family is descendents of an evil reptilian species that controls the world through the New World Order and orchestrated the moon landing and 911 because that is so obviously true and reasonable…

    July 13, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Musings, Political Banter • Views: 1490

  • I Am An Animal

    I have a theory about why mankind is destroying the planet. Okay. Here is goes.

    Francis Bacon is considered the father of empiricism and Western scientific method. In his writings, he talked of the importance of dominating nature. Controlling it. He would even use metaphors of raping the earth. I don’t know about you, but if I had a penis, I wouldn’t rape mother-nature. I would whisper sweet nothings into the grass, slowly caress the trees, and gently lick the ocean. Ohhhh yeahhhhh. Now that is what I am talking about.

    It is not only profound, but telling that someone so influential in western scientific thought had such aggressive beliefs on how man and nature should interact. It wasn’t about cooperation and appreciation, but conquering. Part of me understands why men had once felt the pressure to dominate nature, because they were responsible for fighting off saber tooth tigers, wrestling wooly mammoths, and building shelter to protect their families from the elements. That is a lot of pressure, and I am sure I would have wanted my man to be man enough to beat up a bear.

    But just because we needed to defend ourselves from nature, doesn’t mean that we aren’t a part of it.

    The female experience of childbirth and raising babies has shown me just how much apart of the “animal kingdom” we humans really are. I never felt more connected to the Discovery Channel then during the primal experience of giving birth, and then letting a being eat from my boobs! Every time I breast feed I seriously feel like an animal.

    So my theory is that because men make most of the global decisions regarding the environment, they still have a primal instinct to fight against nature. Baconian thinking is so prevalent in our Western culture, that there seems to be a disconnect between wanting to be safe, and the need to be respectful. Of course, you don’t have to give birth or be a mother to appreciate and understand our place in nature, but I do think that for all the men who are still battling against the earth, a little nipple sucking might help them see the light?

    July 12, 2011 • 9-12 months, Musings, Political Banter • Views: 1113

  • Google Must Seem Like a God To Kids

    You want to think of something crazy? My grandmother used to travel around in a horse and buggy when she was a kid. What?? Can you even fathom how much life has changed in the last century? We have become so accustomed to instantaneous communication and exchange of information that to wait 1 minute for a video to buffer is grounds to sue your internet provider. What? I can’t watch this circle go round for a full 60 seconds… that is preposterous.

    The funny thing about my generation, the generation to grow up in the 80’s, is that we really experienced the end of an era in terms of technology. No cell phones, no internet, no Facebook… in fact we still had rotary phones, were limited to 2 dimensional computer games, and cartoons were only on Saturday mornings. I mean… I am talking an archaic deprived existence here. When I had to research a paper for school, I HAD TO GO TO THE LIBRARY! Can you imagine? (I still don’t get how the library works. What is the Dewey decimal system? Was that Linear B? I couldn’t find a book in the library if your life depended on it. I wouldn’t risk my life for such a stupid hypothetical situation. Btw… I will have you know that I was that person who went straight to the reference desk. Thank you library lady, wherever you are, now that you are jobless).

    But think about how nuts it must be to grow up in this current technological paradigm. Everything you ever wanted to know about life, Google knows the answer to.

    “Mom… why is the sky blue?”

    No more cryptic answers… No more pontificating, guessing, or stalling until your kid just forgets what you are talking about. Just hop on you iphone and Google it and the answer is yours. You hardly even have to go to the doctor anymore. Have a random rash? Check it out on Google, find some holistic remedies and put some comfrey leaf on it and quit complaining.

    Imagine how many times a kid will hear a question, and the answer will be “I don’t know… Google it.” Google has become like an all-knowing omnipotent God. Except Google won’t create a flood to punish us humans for being wicked… because then all the computers would get wet.

    June 22, 2011 • 9-12 months, Musings, Political Banter • Views: 1685