Breastmilk

I am not that interested in breastfeeding.

Is that heresy? I am appallingly unable to wean and thus an extended breastf-eeder by default. As in many areas of my life, I live in a kind of fog of semi-denial. I envision myself as a no-nonsense type of woman who chooses whatever is, frankly, the easier way to feed the baby. In reality I am a terrible soft-touch who nurses through the night for far longer than advisable and, indeed, nurses in general for far longer than necessary.

But after nearly three years of non-stop nursing, while I am still happy to keep doing it, I am completely uinterested in talking about it. I have a breastfeeding group that I skim through regularly because I have been foolish enough to sign up for it. I do this with the imagined goal of reading a variety of interesting information. In reality I skim until I see something that annoys me. It takes me ages to get around to unsubscribing. Again, a symptom of my general disorganisation.

But may I humbly suggest that none of the following are achievements worthy of sharing with over a thousand people:
- You have been nursing your child for 6 weeks/3 months/6 months/1 year/whatever. Good for you. Who are you again?
- You are angry because you saw someone formula feeding/someone indicated they feed their child with formula. Get the hell over it. To channel my grandmother: there are children starving in Africa, and this is what you worry about?
- You are happy because you have successfully nursed in public. Good for you? Again, remind me who you are?

These little achievements of life are things you share with your friends and family. And if none of these people has friends nor family, then social disintegration in modern life is considerably worse than its advance press would indicate.

But that being said, suppose you do not have anyone who wants to hear the minute details of your childs food intake, feces, suckling and so forth. What shall we then do?

The answer is obvious. Do as I did: start a blog.