I was going to give you a Friday Confession, but today ABC News printed a bit of my interview with them. Folks are yammering about how the Bebe Gluton doll is somehow dangerous for young girls. I’ve got a thunk on the head for them.

I’m not going to discuss the merits of breastfeeding. I’ll let the American Academy of Pediatrics do the talking. Not every baby is easily breastfed, I had two kids, one nursed, one didn’t. I’ll talk about why at a later date.

Here’s the issue, and it’s a big issue. Breastfeeding is not sexual. Some pseudo parenting expert out of New Jersey wrote a little column wherein he he made the leap from a breastfeeding doll to “Bebe Limp – The male doll who experiences erectile dysfunction“.

I’m a little concerned that anyone would take this seriously. Sadly Fox quoted this angry man.

My ongoing problem with the internet is the low barrier to entry. In 392 words Erik Ruhalter managed equate breastfeeding with erections, alcoholism, shotguns and rooftops.

Lest we take him too seriously, I’ve counted a few things.

392 words
seven exclamation points !!!!!!!
ten question marks ?????????? Including the title
four links to his super dee duper parenting book

I’m sure Erik is just the sort of parenting expert I’d call.

******
UPDATE: 2.25pm Erik has written an apology, he’s also written a book. Anyone big enough to stand up and admit a mistake in public deserves to sell a few books. Go say hi before the poor dear rocks in the corner sucking his thumb.

Recently I got into a little to do on twitter with Jason Falls. If you don’t know Jason, you should. Jason is often on twitter, and almost always with a kind word.

Sadly there is an assertion online, and in person that obese people are somehow not to blame for their obesity. I understand that it’s painful for someone to admit that they’ve done harm to their own body, but if we’re busy blaming pituitary glands and bum thyroids, we’re doomed to a life of morbid obesity and an early grave.

I have a thyroid disorder. For ten years I’ve had an out of control thyroid due to Hashimotos Thyroiditis. The most weight I’ve gained? Six pounds. I am told that is typical.

Fighting fat is a battle worth having. Diets suck, when you’re dieting all you do is think of food. Exercise is hard, moderation is difficult, but since when is life supposed to be easy? Are no struggles worth having?

I have friends with weight problems and it would be cruel for me to pretend like it’s not a problem. I am not a skinny woman. I don’t strive to be a size 4. I’m a curvy adult woman with a little flab and a dose of goo, but I feed my body with food. I love myself enough to eat a piece of fruit, organic meats and dairy items, and a lot of vegetables. I love sweets, I love dessert, but you can’t have everything. If I want ice cream there’s a shop at the corner, I walk there, I walk back. If I’m too tired to get the junk food I don’t eat it.

Having it all is a myth that kills us.

Jason thought that I was attacking fat people. Please don’t think for a moment that I don’t like you or think less of you if you’re fat. I know you’re less healthy than you could be, and underneath any sort of bravado there’s a sadness that you can’t move as well as you should. I don’t mock people or think that they’re feelings aren’t relevant.

Your feelings matter.

If you want to feel good, move your body. If you want to feel great, put food in your body. Skip anything that comes from a box. Buy food that spoils, buy it each and every day and enjoy the flavors. Taste a peach in the summertime and kale in the autumn, enjoy cake but know the ingredients and control the portion size. Dessert is not here to make you full.

The short cut to feeling good is to change your behavior.

I support your lifestyle changes. If you’re trying to get healthier I’ll walk with you, I’ll shop with you and cook with you. I will support you every step of the way. I will not pretend that buying a weight loss pill, food, package or plan will help you.

Please don’t talk to me about skinny or thin. Let’s talk health, let’s talk about enjoying our food and leaving a smaller footprint. You don’t need a 100 calorie snack pack, you need an apple. You don’t need a low carb diet, you need less processed food. Unless you’re diabetic you don’t need to eliminate sugar, you just need to watch it.

And you need to move. You need to make your children move, a lot. Your kids aren’t getting dehydrated, they don’t need a sports drink or a juice, they need water and a yard.

Your friends tell you when you have salad in your teeth. They also tell you when you’re killing yourself.

I don’t hate fat people, but the fat acceptance movement infuriates me.

If we’ve spoken in person and asked me about my husband, you’ve heard my standard rap. I married the kindest man I’ve ever met. It’s simple and it’s true. I love that he’s handsome and smart, those are really great qualities, and especially useful when making babies, but the kindness is what makes our lives together so wonderful.

Last night at dinner my daughter,  Jane,  pulled out a table topic. It said, “Would you rather have 10 siblings or be an only child?”

Jane immediately opted for ten siblings. “More kids to play with”, she explained.

Alexander (who just turned eight) would remain an only child. We asked him why he didn’t want someone to play with, “I have a Dad, right?” he asked. “Yes,” we replied.

“Then that’s all I need.” He stood firm, no argument could dissuade him.

While he’s wrong, very wrong, he’s also absolutely correct.

Because sometimes a really great Dad is all a little boy needs.

An Interview with Blog Talk Radio

I gave away Guitar Hero

I gave away Sephora Gift Bags

I gave away great outfits from I Am Beyond

I gave away gift sets from Brainy Baby

And I gave away great tees from 10 Again Clothing.

But mostly. I met talented and bright women and I was privy to some incredible conversations.

I had a chance to see the world a little differently, and for that I’m grateful.

The best parts of BlogHer will never get written about, because they defy description.

“Where is your daughter, Jane?” The neighbor asks.

“At summer camp.” I reply.

“How is she enjoying it?” They ask.

“I assume she’s fine.” I reply.

Then, they melt down. The questions come rapid fire. Why hasn’t she called? Oh, they aren’t allowed to call [insert sanctimonious tone here]. I don’t know that I’d send my kid to a camp like that. Oh, all camps are like that? Well, that’s not how I remember it. Can’t you send her with a cell phone so she can text you?

That is not why I sent my daughter to camp.

We sent our daughter to camp so that she could take one more leap into adulthood. At ten, she’s ready for a few days of structured independence. At ten, she’s ready to spend some time in a world with a diverse group of children. She’s ready to pick her own clothing and food, to make her own decisions about hygiene and to resolve her own conflicts.

If I gave my child the opportunity to come home early from camp, I would be crippling her. Part of me would love to keep my daughter home, but how fair would that be?

Raising my child without summer camp would be akin to growing a sunflower in the closet. Don’t get me wrong, there are mothers who can provide children the sports, interaction, crafts and singalongs that summer camp provides. I am not that woman. I send my children to camp.

I’m not sure why I allow myself to feel defensive about raising a child that is self assured and confident. When my children were learning to walk, they fell down and I let them. I didn’t scoop them up or kiss every boo boo. Parenting a tween is no different than a toddler, they need to be allowed to stumble. Jane will turn eleven in a few short months. It’s okay for her to miss us, to work out her own problems and to know that it’s just a matter of days before she is home.

Most likely, Jane is having the time of her life. I imagine that tomorrow when the bus brings her back to us, that she’ll look a little older, and seem a little more independent. I’m trying to prepare myself for the daughter that will emerge, but at this moment, that seems impossible.

I just got off the phone with my Mom. She thinks I’m making a mistake, and I know she’s right.

I really hate not being a good enough parent. I hate it when I make mistakes, and I make them. Most of our mistakes are with our daughter, because she came first.

My Mom thinks we’re too tough on Jane with her table manners. She thinks we’re begging for an eating disorder. I want to say she’s wrong, I want to think that we’ve made all the right decisions in parenting, but if I’m defensive I lose the opportunity to learn.

I’m open to learning before it’s too late.

I love my daughter. She’s striking in her beauty. She looks you in the eye and she’s exactly who I would want to be were I a ten year old. Eating with her can quite an event. She sits on her feet, she eats at breakneck speed but first she pulls her food into tiny pieces. Summer camp did absolutely nothing to make mealtime lovelier. It’s hard for me. I want her to be a lady. I want my children to be welcome in anyone’s home.

My Mom thinks I’m too tough on Jane. She thinks I’m going to give her an eating disorder if we don’t lay off. I got my table manners from my father and his parents. They’re German, there’s one way, it’s the right way and there really wasn’t much in the way of debate. We also had a German Nanny who I loved, but she terrified us. I’m just doing what I know.

So table manners matter to me. Maybe too much? Maybe when I’m trying to help my daughter, I’m hurting her.

This is why we have many generations. My Mom can help me be a better mother before any real damage is done.