Shocking Photo of a Mother Nursing in Public

photo courtesy of chrisroll @ FreeDigitalPhotos.net

SHE'S NOT EVEN WEARING A COVER. THE HORROR.

Seriously, though, I am really perplexed by all of the outrage about breastfeeding moms nursing in public.

For example, this person took a surreptitious picture of a breastfeeding mom (when interviewed, the mom, Kate White, said she forgot her cover, and asked her friends if they'd mind if she fed her child first):

Is anyone else confused? Why was this person outraged that a mother was feeding her child at lunchtime in a public restaurant? Isn't that what restaurants are for?

Then there was an Internet conniption over Karlesha Thurman's picture:

Again, I'm not seeing a problem. A nursing mom who just graduated from college is feeding her baby. And this is a problem... why? Apparently some people would prefer to hear her baby screeching throughout the ceremony instead? We should be applauding this woman for making it through college while parenting a kid, because that is HARD.

My question to all the people who clutch their pearls and shriek with horror at the above pictures:  are you also ranting and raving about pictures like these, all of which show up in public on a fairly regular basis?

What if you're at Chik-fil-a and someone is reading a copy of the above magazine? Do you ask them to put a cover over it, or to take it into the bathroom to read?

What if you see the following in the grocery store checkout line? Do you gasp in horror and grab the nearest issue of Good Housekeeping to shield your eyes? 

Oh wait. 

What if you're walking through a store and they happen to be playing the Oscars on a display TV screen? Do you declare how actresses need to stay at home if they can't cover themselves in public? (Okay, you may have a point, but we're talking about double standards here.)

I see a lot of condemnation and outrage directed at moms who nurse their babies in public, and yet I don't see similar levels directed at women who show as much boob (if not more) in magazines, advertisements, etc. 

Take the picture above (Brandi Glanville, 2013 Oscars). Did it go viral with complaints and judgement? I don't think it did. But why not? Ms. Glanville is showing just as much skin, if not more, than Kate White or Karlesha Thurman. 

The only difference is that she isn't feeding a baby in her picture. 

If you get up in arms about seeing a mom feeding her baby, I have a word of advice for you: 

I see a flash of white to my immediate right, but not a nipple to be seen

A mama is feeding her baby - hey that's that's awesome; she's a queen!

But the world is howling like a swirling storm outside

"Gotta keep it in, gotta run and hide!"

"Don't take them out, don't let them see

God forbid you feed your own baby

Conceal, don't reveal, don't let them know..."

WELL NOW THEY KNOW!

Let it go, let it go! Don't freak out anymore

Let it go, let it go! Even if you're at the store!

She's feeding a kid, don't make her hide away

Let the storm rage on

Some boob never bothered you anyway.

(profuse apologies to Disney et al, but I couldn't help myself)

Hilary Rosen says...

"I admire women who can stay home and raise their kids full-time. I even envy them sometimes. It is a wonderful luxury to have the choice. But let's stipulate that it is NOT a choice that most women have in America today." - source

Um, Hilary? What about the women who WANT to work outside the home but CAN'T because what they'd pay in daycare is more than they'd make as a salary? Or because illness (either their own, or a child's) or logistics (e.g., only one car and no jobs within biking/walking distance, in a city without reliable public transportation) makes it impossible? Realistically, sometimes being a stay-at-home-parent ISN'T really a choice.

Why not just admit that all mothers work hard regardless, and that every woman should be credited for doing what's best for her family?

And the first sentence of that paragraph is B.S. Let's look at the logic of your original statement:

"Ann Romney has never worked a day in her life."

Premise 1: Ann Romney has never worked.
Premise 2: Ann Romney raised 5 kids.
Conclusion: Raising 5 kids isn't work.

Q.E.D.

So either you were lying when you said Ann Romney has never worked, or you're lying in the HuffPo article. I think you're a liar no matter what, frankly, and your attitude is a disgrace to mothers and women everywhere.

A Valentine's Tale

Or, "The Day I Was One of Those Moms."

In early 2007, Elanor, who had just turned two, was attending a local daycare center in Fargo, ND.

A few days before that Valentine's Day, the lady who ran the center told me that they were going to have a Valentine's Day party. All the kids were going to make valentines for each other, and they wanted each child to bring in a valentine box.

I inwardly winced; I knew I could wrestle all weekend with a glue gun but still produce something that would look like a head-on collision between Sesame Street and a nightmare. I really didn't want to make my toddler blush with shame.

I had a sudden inspiration and knew exactly what to do: I called my mother. All the Martha Stewart genes in the family had passed me by, but my mother had them in spades (my sister got them too; I somehow managed to cop the bibliophile genes instead).

I explained what I needed and asked her if she'd be willing to whip something up for Elanor.

"A shoebox with some paper doilies or construction-paper hearts will be fine," I told her. "Nothing too elaborate."

She enthusiastically agreed (in hindsight, that should have been my first inkling of what was to come), and promised she'd have it done by the following weekend.

Sure enough, she called me the Friday before Valentine's Day to tell me the box was done. We made arrangements to meet and pick it up.

I had asked for a shoebox with some artfully arranged stickers, stamps, or maybe some curling ribbon.

What I got was this:

A pink princess castle with five turrets and a drawbridge.

"Mom," I said. "I asked for a shoebox."

"I know," she said apologetically. "But I found this really cute idea online, and... well, I got a little carried away."

"She worked on it for hours," my stepfather offered. "It turned out really great, don't you think?"

On Valentine's Day, I walked into the daycare with that box, and every single woman in the room turned and stared at me -- or rather, at what I was carrying.

"This is Elanor's valentine box," I said sheepishly. "Her grandmother made it."

As the other mothers exchanged glances, I knew I had become, for once in my life, one of those moms. (It's never happened since.)