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When I had my first child, at eighteen, very young and impressionable, an older woman gave me a book written by an anthropologist about the way in which the Amazonion people parent their children. I was very impressed with the book, the title of which I don’t remember.

One of the things in that book and in that study you cite, was the fact that the children were carried and held by someone constantly. I nursed my son on demand and carried him and held him all the time. We had no crib, no seperate bed, no basket, no carrier and only a cheap umbrella stroller given to me by a relative (one of the few gifts from anyone as no one in the family wanted anything to do with me because of my now lower status as a young mother). I either held him, or put him in one of those Snugglie body packs when I needed both hands. With my middle child I even was lucky to find a cool over the shoulder sling-type thing to carry her in, a take-off of the slings used by aboriginal woman the world over.

All my children slept in the bed with me during the first year and not once did I roll over on them. In fact, I never had to ‘get out of bed’ in the middle of the night to feed if they child awoke, I often fed and fell asleep with child attached and my arms protectively around it.

My children were allowed to explore and learned very early on the meaning of ‘no’. Not once did I raise a hand to them, never. They were happy, well behaved, did not cry, did not fuss. Although I must admit that my middle child (daughter) was a wild one and very kinetic, my other two were more cerebral and easy-going. Still, never a thought was entertained as to giving ,y middle daughter meds to ‘calm her down’.

Now she’s a young blamer and go getter, my son is a well adjusted, independent young man (self ascribed blamer as well, but his maleness gives him a deficit I like to remind him) and my youngest daughter, still easy going, cerebral and well, of course a blamer as well! My kids have had their share of rough starts due to the harsh economics of their childhood, but they are overcoming and have a maturity and sense of individual responsibility that too many their age don’t have.

“Jack O’Sullivan of Fathers Direct says he was invited on chat show after chat show on Monday in the wake of the report going public, and faced a mixture of horror, consternation and support. ‘Some fathers phoned in to say they’d let their child suck their nipples - often it had just happened when the baby was lying on their chest in bed,’ he says. But some people were disgusted: the words ‘child abuse’ came up more than once, which points up interesting cultural differences when you think that, to Aka folk, much of the way we raise our kids would count as child abuse to them (babies being left to sleep alone in a different room from their parents, for example).”
http://www.guardian.co.uk/parents/story/0,,1506843,00.html

The child abuse accusation has also been thrown at women who breastfeed older toddlers. In one case in New York, a child was taken away from her mother and put in foster care for several months because someone in Child Protective Services thought it was obscene for that mother to breastfeed a two-year-old. As this quote demonstrates, perhaps it’s our culture that’s bizarre and abusive. (Ya think?)

And that’s why I feel militant on the subject.

On that topic, an anthropologist may have finally found out the answer to the “mystery” of dudely nipples, courtesy of a tribe in Africa:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/parents/story/0,,1506843,00.html

From the article:

The answer, it seems, is the one my three-year-old (and Darwin, to be fair) suspected all along: male nipples are there as a stand-in for when mum isn’t around and there’s a squawking bambino in dire need of something to suck.

I got militant at the “boob-juice=piss” poster for that reason. I am tired of the reduction of women to the role of mother/cow or wife/whore. And nothing pushes me into the Vortex of Blame more than a woman wearing the feminist badge running through the joint picking fights with her sisters and using the patriarchy’s script as her ammunition.

I’d say maybe it had someting to do with the cat fleas that have recently been introduced to my house and keep biting my ass everytime I sit down in my chair to view this blog. But no, I can and will kill off the fleas, unlike the women hating that I mus deal with everyday.

Darling, if you’re reading, I’m waving at you!