Unashamed. A 3 year old in diapers.

I had Adelyne and instantly she became President of the United States.  Standards were set.  Structure was given.  Discipline was doled out.  And life for my Little Miss Firstborn became hard.

As life usually is for firstborn children.

They write so many books on birth order, but you really don’t need to read them because—if you take a look at your own family—you will most likely see the exact thing that they write in those books.

On occasion you have the firstborn with the spirt of the middle and vice versa, but for the majority of all of the wonders in the world, there is an order that is commonly stuck.

And that’s the way it goes.

My sister said to me once, “Do you remember having to fight to wear pantyhose (those were the “in” thing when I was a teenager), or high heels, or makeup, or to go on dates?”

And I said, “No.”

She replied, “You are welcome!”

You see, big sister had to fight the battle for life for me.  For my brother.  For all that followed in her footsteps.

I simply had to walk the beaten down path.

I live in a farming village and right now you can see the path of the beasts.  (Meaning deer that the farmers sit in the fields trying to kill early in the morning hours, as I experienced yesterday as I walked my dogs and they unknowingly spooked a deer toward the hunter before his rifle rang out.  Poor deer trying to escape the dogs ran into a far worse fate than a couple old and slow mutts.)  Anyhow, back to my point, you can see where the deer lie.  It pushes the wheat down and leaves a mark.  And it makes it easy to know where to go — because the path is already paved before me.

My sister is that deer.  She had to be the one traversing life before her following siblings duo, and she fought her battles.  We were the spoils of her victory, my brother and I.

And now that I have 3 children, I see it.

My daughter, my eldest, is one of the greatest kids I will ever meet, but I am so ridiculously hard on her.

She is the one that came first into the world to forge ahead of the world and become great!  And, in order to do that, I must watch everything she does and make sure she does it right.  Right?

Wrong, but ah well.  I’m learning with my other two.

As evidenced by the fact that my 1-week-3-year-old (did you follow that) just barely “lost” his pacifier a day ago and TODAY of all holy days actually went pee-pee and poo-poo on the potty for the FIRST TIME EVER!  (I shall not spoil the grand with the mention of the multiple accidents around the house all day 😉 ).

Oh, that’s not all, folks.  His still ONLY drinks his milk from a bottle.  YEP!  A bottle.

And, nope.  Not getting rid of it any time soon.

If he was my firstborn, I would be AGHAST with myself.  I would be SHAMING myself.  I would be EMBARRASSED to go in public.

With my middle, however, I’m like, “Oh, yes.  That’s my son, Maxwell.  How old is he?  Why 3!”  (As he is sitting in his stroller with his stinky diaper, pacifier, Linus-style blanket, and bottle of milk).

I am unashamed.  I even smile and wave as I walk—back straight head held high—away 😉

What?  Oh yeah.  There’s another.

See, the 3rd.  It’s like, “She’s here.”  What’s that?  Oh—yes, she’s still nursing.  How often?  As often as she wants.  She is at the point where she is pulling at my shirt and shouting “BOOBIE!”  And I just pull her hands down and say, “Wait!”  Where she then promptly runs off and begins to play on her tricycle.  YES—I said tricycle.  Or I fold, sit wherever I am, and give the baby WHATEVER THE BABY WANTS!

Yep.  It does appear likely that I will make the TIME cover (you know the one of which I speak, right?!).

And, honestly, you know…If I ever am chosen for that cover, I might actually pose proudly.  Because, after all, I’m 3 down and learning (THANKFULLY) to be unashamed!

I wish the same CHEERS to you, all mothers everywhere.

Hear, hear!

America you are still getting it wrong about breastfeeding.

nursing at christmas with the entire family around

So the other day I stumbled upon an article that was scrolling on Yahoo (I believe). It mentioned something along the lines of breastfeeding at church.

I answered that I most certainly did. Such is life when you are teaching Sunday school and have a newborn baby.

Another article that was on the same thread, however, said that in Brazil someone can get fined for heckling a breastfeeding mother—and the woman that wrote implied that maybe it’s a good idea.

I responded that while I am not for fining people, we need to teach our children that breastfeeding is natural. My son finds breastfeeding so natural that he asks if he can also nurse GoGo Baby (my daughter).

The commenter following me was most visibly upset with my answer—she haughtily stated, (I’ll paraphrase) “I AM NOT OPPOSED TO BREASTFEEDING…” (oh really????) “BUT I DO NOT WANT MY SON TO BE ABLE TO DESCRIBE YOUR SHAPE AND COLOR OF YOUR BREAST IN DETAIL!”

Eye roll and GAG, please!

America…You are still getting it SOOO wrong and THIS is why it is this ridiculous issue.

Did you know there was a time that the ankle, shoulder or bare leg was considered taboo? Oooo-la-la too sexy?!

Tell me, do you wear shorts or flip flops? Do you wear tank tops?

I am fairly certain at some point in your day or wardrobe you are exposing such sexiness—you beast!

In my very STRONG opinion…If YOU stop making such a big deal about the breast of a nursing mother—especially in FRONT of your son—then when he asks, he will understand that you are feeding your baby and move right along and play.

But, NO, woman responder of mine. YOU are the reason that breastfeeding remains a taboo in America even though you VEHEMENTLY cry that it is not.


Above photo was me nursing at Christmas in Norway—no blanket—surrounded by family-my husband snapped while I was enjoying my moment.  I chose not to put other nursing pictures on for fear of a cyber lynching 😉  

In my opinion, however, they are some of my most favorite photos of moments in time with my babies.

I broke my bra. The saga of nursing in America!

About 200 eyes fixated on me. The tired and weary, haggard world traveler that had been toting my 11-month-old halfway across the world all day. We were two airplanes down, 2 continents nearly flown completely over. More time zones than I know. And one Atlantic Ocean safely crossed.

I was tired. Baby was tired. And we had time before our last flight. That’s when it hit me! My epiphany! Pure brilliance.

Problem. I was now in America and America makes it REALLY hard for me to be brilliant.

So this is how the story goes…


I have 3 children.  THREE!  And I have raised most of them in Poland. Land of the free.  Free to nurse, that is.

I am not a hootie-hider, cover myself, hide in the bathroom stall, nursing momma.  I am a very European, baby needs to eat, nurse your child while you continue to have conversation and sip your latte, type of woman.

To be honest—I drive my lovely American girlfriends batty.  They all offer me hootie-hiding contraptions all of the time.

No.Thank.You, my lovely friends.

On my way to America, I nursed my baby on flight number one while seated next to a MBA student from Mexico.  No problem.  And then she slept.  The entire plane’s passengers, if they weren’t in such a hurry to hustle to their connecting flights, would probably have liked to thank me for it.

Plane number 2.  The big one.  The nearly 11-hour-flight one.  Swedish University Student to my left, Polish business couple to my right.  Me.  Smack in the middle.  Nursed my baby multiple times while carrying on conversations.  Bam!  Super happy baby.  All 11 hours.  Super happy passengers all around me.

Plane number 3.  Take off and landing on American soil.  Uh-oh!  I already could sense the trouble.  Americans LOVE organic.  Must pay super duper lots of money for healthy produce, healthy meat, healthy diet regimens, and healthy air filters, and healthy…Okay.  You get the idea.

But, heaven forbid, a woman nurse her child in public.  And then America is out for UNHEALTHY, UNSANITARY, UNCOMFORTABLE…No baby boobies in public, please!

But do you think that stops me?!  Well…As I glanced around at the 100 plus uncomfortable looking people, I thought to myself, I will be uber kind today and nurse before the airplane.  THAT WAY…That way, baby will be fed, happy, and sleep the entire flight from Colorado to Arizona.  Baby wins.  Uber sensitive American traveling passengers win.  All around, everyone wins.

But, you see…America has the problem with fixation and sensationalizing everything.

The minute that I sat down to discreetly nurse (not using a hootie hider but still able to usually nurse very politely), it seemed as if the news media brought out cameras and everyone—old, young, male, female…EVERYONE could only focus on me—the nursing mom.  My baby.  Oh heavens, you soon-to-be-travelers.  You woke the sleeping giant!

As all eyes were on me.  Literally.  Stopping.  Staring.  Focusing on my plight and struggle.  As all eyes were on me, my baby grew more and more agitated.  And the more I tried to politely nurse, the more and more people stopped, turned, and stared.

Not wanting to become the National Headliner that a lot of nursing moms become, I tried to be even more careful—by this time, baby is tired (in her time, it was nearly 3am), I have completely covered myself up, and now the entire room of waiting passengers can’t seem to do anything but stare at my chest, my screaming baby, and the fact that I am TRYING to discreetly nurse.  Seriously?  Doesn’t everyone have smart phones nowadays?  Can’t they get on them and find SOMETHING else to do?  Anything?  Nope?  Nothing???

And that’s when it happened.  Baby was tired of American etiquette and went all Hulk-like on momma!

Josephine, apparently, did not care if mommy was about to make national news by offending fellow travelers and nursing in public.  My 11-month-old was like, “Oh yeah, take that!”  And pop!  There you have it.  She broke my bra and finished nursing.

Yep.  My bra broke.  The saga of nursing in America.  And there is a moral to this story.

Here it is:

If you are uncomfortable when a mommy is trying to nurse her baby, perhaps turn a different direction and go about your own business.  Otherwise, baby will make sure you are SUPER uncomfortable later .

And like Kenny Rogers sings, “You’ve got to know when to hold em; know when to fold em; know when to walk away; know when to RUN…” because this nursing momma ain’t going nowhere!

A tummy full of second helpings.


josephine was tossing and turning in her pack n play tonight while i was climbing a mountain of laundry. i would say conquering it, but it is so high, first i must climb it to conquer it.

and as much as i would return to her and stroke her face and shush her sweetly, her eyes would not remain closed, and she would not go to sleep.

i had literally just nursed her.

you have to understand.  my daughter is off the charts huge.  but for as big as she is (6 months old), she hardly nurses and eats very little solids.  i am just a solid cream cow.  all 3 of my nursing babies proved it to be true.  my sister always said i produce whole milk.  i believe her!

so, when i say i had just nursed my baby, that means she was probably fed a 5 course meal in one sitting.

yet, tossing and turning and turning and tossing took place.

and crying.  she kept looking at me and would cry.

technically i could have just let her cry herself to sleep.  or i could have rocked her to sleep.  but i did something else that i have not had to do too many times in her 6 short months of life.  i nursed my baby again.  she cradled right into my bosom, falling asleep.

and while she nursed, i rocked her.  i cradled her.  i hugged her.  and i cherished the moment.

and while i was holding my baby against my chest, i thought, “how blessed josephine is.”

not because i am her mom.

blessed because my baby was hungry, and i could feed her.

so many babies go to bed every night hungry, and here my daughter got a second helping of what it was she so obviously needed.

and it made me sad and grateful simultaneously.  sad for the children that are hungry.  and grateful that my daughter got exactly what she needed.

and so what remains is for me, for rich, for my children, for our foundation to work on the other part—work on making sure that other children, to the best of our ability, also go to bed fed…


stay tuned for more about this later and how you too can be involved!