Life Family and the Pursuit of Sanity

or… adventures in infertility and babies and family drama!

In Better News May 22, 2011

Filed under: Baby G — arminta @ 12:44 am

So, here are some happy things going on right now:

– My husband just got the sound asleep baby out of the crib and brought him to our bed, because he wanted to snuggle him.

– I saved hella cash at Walgreen’s today. I got 3 bottles of body wash and 2 sticks of deodorant for $3.91! Plus, I got back $3 in register rewards! Woot! Woot!

– I have been couponing. Not extremely, but enough to save some cash. I saved $80 last week in grocery and drugstore items. So, yeah, feelin’ pretty snazzy about that!

– Even though my couponing isn’t extreme, I’m lovin’ the shiz out of that show on TLC. Those people are crazy! Really good at getting shit fo’ free but also, crazy pants!

– Saw G’s cousin today. She was very welcoming and let me know that her mother and my MIL did this whole children’s services thing to her, too. In her words “They are crazy bitches, and we’d all be better off without them.”

– Baby G had Indian food today, and he loved it! Especially the saag paneer. My favorite, too!

– Baby G wore sunglasses all day. He got pissed whenever we tried to take them off. He is the coolest kid, evah!

– Do you know what’s cuter than a baby human petting a baby duck?

Yeah, me neither...

 

Downer Is My Middle Name May 20, 2011

Filed under: Completely and Entirely Unrelated to IF,Family — arminta @ 1:45 am

So, yeah, the drama it never ends.

One of the recent events with the ol’ Mother-In-Bitch involved the EC’ing of my boy. Because, you know he doesn’t wear diapers a lot of the time. Which you know means, his biznass is rather minimally covered. Or, you know when it’s really warm sometimes his biznass is not entirely covered. Which I don’t think is a huge giant deal because, uh, he’s 8 months old. He is also at home, not out in public. Right, and he’s well supervised. But, none of these things are good enough for the woman who used to let her 2 year old run around butt ass nekkid in public. No, because  you see I’m sick and G has no idea what could be going on when he’s not home. Yeah, she said that. A recap of the conversation she had with G (well before the children’s services incident, as neither of us have spoken with her since) amounts to she believes that I or one of my nephews is capable of sexually molesting my son.

She believes that. She said that to my husband. Who loves me. And our nephews.

That is a serious accusation. Especially serious to G and me. Because we both were sexually mistreated as children. This is a topic about which we neither discuss often nor make part of our daily lives. It is something that we have both overcome and moved beyond. Or at least, so we thought. I’m bringing this up now, not only because of the crazy accusations from that crazy bitch, but also because of recent conversations with my sister. See, because I didn’t know that my family was aware of what happened to me. But, it turns out they did and have been talking about it under strict direction to not let me know because they didn’t think I remembered it. So, this has brought some feelings to surface related to this topic. I am not bringing this up for sympathy or for the sake of drama. I am feeling a bit of anxiety and like I need to take some kind of action. So, as this is basically my “diary” I’m trying to work it out here. This is also where I “talk” to my besties (yes, I mean ya’ll!), so two birds and all that.

Here’s the facts. G was molested by his older cousin when he was around 5. It happened multiple times. He doesn’t know how many or for how long. His mother found out and had a shouting fight with the cousin. They are now friends. The Crazy Sauce actually has gotten shitty with G for not wanting to associate with said cousin. You can see now what a winner this bitch is.

For my part, I was a practice puppet for my mother’s brother. He is 9 years older than me, so closer in age to me than my mother but old enough that this was insanely inappropriate. I don’t remember a lot of specifics. I remember being terrified of him when I was little. I remember feeling relieved if he babysat and one of his friends or my other young uncle (dad’s youngest brother) were there too. Because I didn’t need to be scared if someone else was there.

Now, thing is, I don’t remember ever telling anyone. When I was little (think 3-7’ish) I don’t know what I didn’t tell. But as time went on it seemed to me as if no one would believe me. I now don’t think that’s true. I’m sure my parents would have taken it seriously, but my young mind thought they would think I was lying. He probably told me that at some point. I don’t know. But, he has always been part of my life. Even though there’s that aspect. There’s also the fact that he has been my big brother for all practical purposes. He lit the pilot light on my furnace just this week. His wife is the aunt who used to babysit Little C.

Yes, their house is a completely inappropriate place for a small child for reasons beyond what happened to me. They are in a heavy metal band, they are pathological liars, they have people in and out (sketchy drug using heavy metal people) of their house all the time, he has been verbally abusive to my grandmother in front of Little C, his wife slept with my sister’s boyfriend (before and after my sister was with him, he didn’t cheat on my sister, though, not that it really makes it any better), he has made the comment that he would pay to torture someone ala Hostel and he is covered in tattoo’s of naked women and demons trying to get out of his body. I should be all kinds of on board with cutting ties, this would be what G and my sister are pushing for. Seriously, this description plus what happened when I was a kid? I shouldn’t need to be convinced, right?

On the other hand? Like I said, he fixed my furnace the other day, he is always asking if we need help with anything, he is truly outraged on our behalf with the whole MIL situation, he is very much like my brother. And also, I am responsible for four children during the day. I have precious few people who can help me. Obviously, I cannot trust him or his wife alone with the children. But, they are willing to help. I have so few people WILLING to help. He is also very charismatic. It’s really easy to hate him when he’s not around, but for casual socialization, he’s really hard to hate.

I really wish he’d just move away. That would solve things…

So, anyway, this was the goings on. Until last Friday. When I learned that my parents knew. They KNEW and they let him around. They KNEW and they never DID anything. Well, according to my sister our dad kicked his ass. They fucking KNEW. When Ladybug was born my mum told the sister to please not let the aunt watch the girl because of what happened to me. She told her that when I was Lil C’s age I said something that made them think my uncle had molested me, and my dad kicked his ass but she wouldn’t trust him around a young girl. Then she told my sister not to tell me because she didn’t think I remembered.

Anyhoo, whilst on a bitch session with my sis regarding the aunt and uncle (the wiccans), G made mention of the uncle practicing on me. My sister immediately divulged the above. They KNEW. My mother gives him money all the time and she KNEW! I have felt anxious ever since. I thought about asking my mother about it, but how do you bring that up? Plus, I’m more than a little pissed that they KNEW but the fucker was at Christmases and birthdays and family functions. They just pretended like nothing ever happened. So, I have made no mention of this to either parent. But today while helping me with the kids (hurt my back) my Dad made a comment about how he wouldn’t have ever let either boy be babysat by the wiccans if they had been girls. Really? After 25 years of pretending, we’re dropping this shit casually now? ‘Cause I’m not cool with that.

So, I have this anxiety now. I feel like I need to DO something. But, I really just want to ignore it and un-hear my sister’s announcement. My sister wants to talk about it more. She wants to cut off the wiccans. But thing is, she’s known for a year, why is this something that requires action now?

Yeah, I’ve got no resolution or clever wrap up. Not feeling much better about anything. But I do feel more like I wish it would just go away.

 

Just the Facts May 16, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — arminta @ 8:48 am

The third topic, and the one about which I am the most pissed: The MIL from HELL. This will be long and is more for documentation than entertainment.

OK, so you all know that MIL and I don’t get along. This is not new news. You have pretty much all said “get that botch out of your life” at some point before when hearing about craziness. But, I am not smart and I kept thinking that with boundaries and moderation it would be possible to deal with her and allow G to take his son ’round her. This was only for him because I knew he was sad that his mum was so crazy. So, I have let her back in over and over again. Against my better judgment. Against my own wishes. It has bitten me in the ass every time. You’d think I’d learn. Ha!

So what has happened this time? You know you want to know… Well, this time I finally had to call the cops. Oh yeah, it was that fun. She and her sister came over Monday afternoon while I ran to go get Big C from school. I knew it was a setup because she picked with me the ENTIRE f’ing time. You know little things like:

Her: I had G on table food at 2 months. Why isn’t Baby G allowed to eat real food?

Me: He does eat real food. He ate cheese and cucumbers for lunch.

Her: Well, three small meals is OK.

Then later on, when I was feeding the pretty princess (aka Ladybug, aka Tiny C) her baby food for lunch…

Her: Green beans and rice that’s healthy… why isn’t Baby G allowed to eat this?

Me: He is, but this is the food my sister sent for her baby. They both eat a mix of jar food and table food now. He ate when I was eating lunch, so he got to eat off of my plate and she was asleep then, so she’s eating jar food now.

Her: Hmm, well, it just seems like you’d want to feed him healthy food.

I did in fact resist the urge to tell her to mind her own fucking business and point out that my son is spot f’ing on weight for height and Ladybug, pretty as she is, is fat as all get out. No, but she is pretty fat. Lil C was fat like this too (Big C was chunky but not fat, fat like the two younger ones) and thinned out as he started being more mobile.

Anyhoo, after lunch I put the babies on “gasp” the floor. You know, that place where if they “gasp” fall over it won’t hurt to bad because there isn’t far to fall? Right, I am the devil. Upon being placed on the floor the babies did what they do, namely steal toys from each other then scooch around a bit. Only, Ladybug was less scooching and more crawling and Baby G was more sitting and chewing on a baby doll. (He is more crawling NOW, but on Monday he was still mainly scooching, when he could be convinced that there was a good reason not to just sit.) This of course drew more “conversation.”

Her: Baby C can really move, maybe Baby G should be allowed to crawl more.

Me: Mm hm

Her: I used to put G on the bed so he could crawl without hurting his knees.

Me: Mm hm

Her: I’m going to go put him on the bed.

Me: I’d rather you didn’t. (Because, hello bitch I don’t want you in my bedroom) He’s safer on the (carpeted, padded) floor.

Her (to Baby G): I guess Mommy doesn’t want you to crawl.

Actually, Mommy could give a shit if he learns to crawl now or when he’s one or whatever. Frankly, as long as his development is fine and he has proper strength and motor skills, whether or not he uses them to crawl is completely irrelevant to me. If he prefers to sit and play with toys, I’m all for it. Then there was the diaper conversation:

Her: He isn’t wearing a diaper?

Me: No.

Her: Well, what if he pees?

Me: He usually pees on the potty and I’m OK with cleaning up a little baby pee if he has a miss.

Her: Hmm doesn’t seem sanitary.

Me: OK (because sitting in a pissy diaper for who knows how long is sanitary?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? no, literally, with a diaper you don’t know when they pee’d so they could be wet for 1 minute or 60, you don’t know…)

A few minutes later he gave some potty signs that he might need to drop a deuce (this was day one of Poo Watch, so I was still thinking he might go any minute)

Her: Ooh, he tooted.

Me: And made a potty sign, give him to me so I can take him to the potty.

Her: He doesn’t need to poop.

Me: I’m going to give him an opportunity anyway.

** puts Baby on potty, begins potty singing and cueing **

Her (loudly, while he is still trying to go): He don’t need to poop, he just had some gas. Get him off of there. He don’t need to be on that thing. He’s too little for that thing. You don’t need to poop do you. Get him off of there.

Me: pss pss pss A-B-C-D-E-F-G pss pss pss

As you can see it was going smashingly. Of course these little goings on were in addition to wiping Lil C’s ass (he’s 4!!!!!!! I’m so pissed at his mom and previous babysitter for not teaching him to wipe his own ass!!!!), making Big C a snack (which ended up burning during The Episode), making sure the babies didn’t start a rumble over Elmo and the naked baby doll and entertaining two grown f’ing adults who were doing jack f’ing nothing to help. ** Sidebar: If you are visiting someone who is caring for 4 children (two of whom are infants) and trying to get her house ready for Daddy to come home… HELP or SHUT UP and GET OUT of the WAY!!!! Do not give commentary on who needs what, do not hold one child and pretend the others don’t exist and do not prevent said person from getting the children what they need by engaging in useless criticism of how inefficiently she’s caring for the children. Really, help or leave.

So far we’re just on “normal” annoying, but not overtly toxic type behavior. But, see this BS is what boils under the surface and makes me blow when the toxic bs does start. And it always does. This time it was over me making the kids sit and putting Lil C in time out because he spilled permanent dye on the carpet in my entry way. Now, I full admit the entryway was not the best place for the box of pysanky dyes. It should have been in the closet, but that required moving a chair, which required cleaning up baby toys and not having a 4 year old up my ass, which never happens. So, yes, the box was in a bad spot. The children had been made aware of its’ presence and warned of its’ carpet destroying power. But, alas, Lil C is 4 and my house is small. So, while wrestling he managed to knock it over. And bright blue dye stained my carpet. My brown carpet. Now, at the time I was in the kitchen, and I heard “Get off me, uh! Don’t! *wrestling and scuffling* You’re going to hit the babies! *scampering… CRASH… agonized howling* Uncle G’s going to bust you now, Lil C!” So, naturally, I ran into the living room and broke up the chaos by making the boys sit on separate couches. I then immediately began clean-up efforts (as Big C grilled cheese burned). Lil C is howling on his chair this entire time. I should let you that he is a howler, though. For instance if I tell him no more Cocoa Pebbles (after his third bowl), or if I tell him we can’t play X-box until the babies lay down, or if he accidentally spills his juice he howls as if I’ve beaten him. I have never beaten him.

Upon my putting the boys on couches, both MIL and her sister look at me as if I’d poured boiling oil on the children. Yes, I raised my voice. It was loud. I didn’t scream. I didn’t call anyone names. I didn’t blame anyone. I just separated them and put them on couches to reduce the chaos. When I found out what happened I did tell Lil C that I was angry that he knocked over the box because my carpet will probably be stained forever. I didn’t yell. I didn’t tell him he was an awful child. I didn’t even say “I’m angry with you” I said “I’m angry that you knocked over this box, when I told you it was off limits.” He was still howling. I told him (sternly) to stop crying, he hadn’t been spanked, he wasn’t hurt, he was just sitting on a couch and that’s no reason to cry. He toned it down to a whimper.

Big C’s sandwich? Still burning. Two grown adults perfectly capable of flipping an f’ing grilled cheese? In living room, still looking as if I’d hog tied and beaten Lil C with an extension cord.

So, I went into the kitchen to remedy the burning cheese situation and called Big C with me to find out what happened. He told me. It was clearly an accident. Mostly brought on by the fact that both boys were playing too rough and Lil C had few routes to run away from the wrestling because La Diabla and her sister “makes him nervesous.” He is a special kid. Yes, I mean that kind of special. It doesn’t change the fact that G will be furious when he gets home. Another straw on the camel’s back.

Apparently whilst I’m in the kitchen (mind you Spot Bot, best $100 I’ve ever spent, is working on the dye this whole time) Ms. Know-It-All has decided to help finally. By dabbing up the dye with a paper towel. Which was a complete waste of paper towels. It’s not food dye, it’s instant permanent dye. The only chance of getting it out is with special cleaner while it’s wet. I continue with resetting the Spot Bot as needed. Nothing is coming up. Then for some crazy reason the bitch decides to start grilling Big C (Lil C has fallen asleep in his chair at this point). So, I stop her. I say “P, I’ve already spoken to him, it’s taken care of.” Because seriously, I don’t allow the overstepping with the kids. She then turns on me, shaking the dye spotted towel in my face telling me to dab it up. I tell her, politely, that I have it under control. She continues to be in my face grilling me now about why the box was in the entryway and telling me where she would have put it and how I should just dab it up. Very aggressive and in my face.

So, I told her “I appreciate ya’ll comin’ to help out with the babies, but I think it’s time to go now.” Very nicely. In Big C’s words I was being “very patient.”

That would be when things went to hell. She started getting loud and in my face even more about the box and told me that I couldn’t handle the stress of the kids and shouldn’t have them. I finally snapped and told her to get out. She continued to escalate things and I f’ing lost it. I couldn’t take it anymore. After hours of picking at me, plus the aggressiveness regarding the mess, now blaming my frustration on the kids when in fact it was her that had me flustered and you know the fact that I nicely told her that her welcome was worn out but she was still in my house. Yeah, I lost it. I shouted at her. I cursed. In front of the kids. And I regret it. That said, it lasted all of two minutes before I got back under control. Back under control I told her that she no longer welcome and she needed to leave now. She then broke the camels back: she threatened to call children’s services and tell them I was abusing the kids. She started shouting that Baby G was HER grandson and she had a right… I don’t know to what, because that’s where I cut her off. I informed her that she had no rights to my son. He is MY son and mother trumps grandmother every day of the week. She needed to leave my house before I called the police to have her escorted out.

She lunged at me. She actually made to assault me. At this point her sister did step in front of her and try to get her to “just go and call children’s services from home.” Yes, this was Aunt C. The one I always wished was my MIL. She continued to shout threats at me over her sisters head making as if to lunge at me. Big C was scared and crying. Lil C? Still asleep. The babies were upset, but not crying. I called the cops. While I was speaking with the cops she continued to yell and be belligerent. At one point they asked me how old she was. I told them 51 or 52, early 50’s and she shouted into the phone “I’m 53” so I told the operator, “You heard her, she’s 53.”

I had completely stopped responding to her at this point. But she continued to shout and be loud and refuse to leave my house. I  called G and told him to come home. The police were on the way, his mother had crossed the line for the last time and I was afraid to be there alone until the cops came. I was afraid she would try to take my baby. He said he was on his way because his aunt had already called to tell him that I was having a breakdown. I fought for two minutes, his mother had been shouting and making threats for over 30 minutes at this point. I was the one having a breakdown? La Diabla and Aunt Diabla left at some point after I called G but before he got to the house. While waiting on G and the police I comforted the children. I made sure Lil C knew that the grownups fighting was not his fault. When I asked Big C what was making him upset he said “I thought they were both going to start hitting you and I couldn’t get to the phone to call 9-1-1.” I assured him that no one was going to hit me (although, I had that same fear) and loved on both of the boys. The babies were fine at this point. Well, Ladybug wanted a bottle, but Ladybug always wants a bottle.

I told the police that I thought she had finally left. I asked them to check and be sure but if she was gone we didn’t need anything else and I was sorry for wasting their time on domestic bs. They were kind and said they would check and if she did come back to call them and they would make sure she left and that a person should feel safe in their own home. I felt amazingly better knowing that the cops were taking this seriously and that I had it on record that she was a threat to me, in case she did try to take Baby G. Also, I became the queen of the run on sentence.

G assured me that we were on the same page with cutting ties with her permanently, watched the kids while I spoke with my sister and then went back to work. While he was t work Aunt Diabla called to “see if they had restraining orders on them.” Because beat cops can do that now? It doesn’t take a judge? While G was talking to her he heard his mother in the background giving my name and our address to someone. She had actually called children’s services. Aunt Diabla did nothing to stop her. G informed her that if children’s services showed up at our door he was breaking ties with the whole family.

At 7pm a cop showed up to make sure the children were safe.

There is more to be told, but the bottom line is we have cut ties permanently and G intends to get a protection order if they try to come near the baby.

 

Two Years May 15, 2011

Filed under: Blueberry Bean,Miscarriage — arminta @ 12:27 am

Dear Bean:

It’s been two years since we learned you had left us. Even though I carried you in my body for five more days, today is the day I associate with losing you. Today is the day my world shattered. I love you so much sweet Bean. I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you alive long enough to hug you and hold you and tell you face to face how very much I love you. You were with us for only a few short months, but you will be remembered and loved forever. Every time Mommy watches Twilight she thinks about you and how much you loved that movie. I haven’t been to the zoo since I went with you and it will soon be time to take your brother and cousins. I wish I could take you, too.

Daddy and I love you and miss you.

Love Always,

Mommy

 

Maybe If You Just Relax May 14, 2011

Filed under: Blogging — arminta @ 1:49 am

I’m sure many of you know Jen. She is a rockstar, afterall. And fucking hilarious. And not afraid to do classy things like curse on her blog. I heart her. As I’ve mentioned before, she is why I started blogging. Over the years of reading her blog I have truly began to think of her as a friend.

Which is why I have been completely heartbroken for her since her twin girls were born on 12-29-2010. Itty Bitty Ainsley was born a fiesty fighter and has been in the NICU ever since. She has been through multiple surgeries and is now trached so she can grow and eventually breath on her own. She is beautiful and a drama queen. Hog Baby Evelyn was also beautiful, but she was born still. Lost just hours before the scheduled c-section. I cannot imagine the pain Jen must feel or the strength she must possess to keep on going after all of that. But, she does and I’m sure Miss Olivia plays no small part in her motivation.

Since Ainsley and Evelyn were born I have been wishing that there was something I could DO. Comments are great and all, but seriously, when faced with paying for multiple surgeries and spending HOURS in the car between work, home and NICU it seems like cash or food would be MUCH more appropriate. Which is why I am happy to let you know that some of her IRL friends have set up a fundraiser! Please go here and check out her friend Andrea’s post about The Event. In addition to participating in The Event, I also plan to add a new product to the Baby Hooked Boutique store that all proceeds will go to Jen.

 

Funnies May 12, 2011

OK, I had to interrupt the scheduled bitching (oh, yes, there’s more bitching to come) to bring you the funnies of my day 🙂

#1 Conversation between me and Lil C over lunch. Backstory, Uncle G took Lil C to Dick’s Sporting Goods store last Friday.

LC: Can we go to Dick’s house?

Me (having not put 2 & 2 together yet): I don’t know Dick, honey, maybe you can ask your Mommy…

LC: But that’s where my tents are!

Me (aha!): You mean Dick’s at the mall?

LC: Yes!

Me: I can’t go to Dick’s, honey.

LC: Because Uncle G took your car to work?

Me: No, because I’m a girl.

LC: … … … Girls are afraid of Dick’s?

Me: Deathly.

Bwahahahahahahahahah!!!!!!!!!

#2 Conversation between me & G regarding Baby G’s bedtime diaper:

G: Get him a diaper and jammies and I’ll get him ready for bed.

Me: OK!!!! Shit, all his covers are in the dryer! Here, I’ll get you a disposable.

G: What? You trained me on the cotton ones, I don’t know what to do with that!

He can no longer claim he doesn’t know what to do with “the cotton ones” now, though 🙂

 

Parenting Magazine: You Suck May 11, 2011

Filed under: Blogging,EC — arminta @ 3:11 pm

And this is the topic about which I am less pissed. Oh my!

Today Little C went to get my mail and hooray, it was magazine day. My Parenting Early Years came today. Usually this makes for good potty reading material with the occasional decent recipe. It has never made me furious, before. So, boy was I surprised when I flipped it open to the article entitled “Ditch the Diapers.”

Obviously, EC (elimination communication) isn’t mainstream, so I wasn’t expecting it to be part of the article. I figured it’d be all about how three year olds will sell their mom for M&Ms so their poop and pee seems like a fair price. Or, how you should wait until your kid is ready to be self reliant after years of just pissing whenever they want . Or, some other “method” of potty training that essentially amounts to let your preschooler tell you when they’re done pissing their pants. (Why, yes, I am all Judgey McJudgerson when it comes to children who can read and write but still wear diapers. Unless they have a physical impairment, otherwise, I will unabashedly judge the shit out of your lazy ass for not helping your child be independent sooner.) Anyhizzle… I wasn’t expecting EC to be part of this article. It’s not potty training, after all, it’s communication and infant hygiene.

Hmm hmm! I was wrong. It is prominently featured right under the title “Can You Really Potty Train a Baby?” Of course not, if your definition of “potty trained” is “toilet independent.” I am a full supporter of EC and I say OF COURSE NOT. It is completely unrealistic to expect an infant to be toilet independent. That thought alone should have prompted some research, no? Before smearing a perfectly acceptable infant hygiene practice, you should check your assumptions, right? No, it doesn’t look that way. It looks like Parenting Magazine allows content based on conjecture and opinions to be passed off as fact. But you know, it’s hard to take a piece seriously when the entire premise is faulty.

The article gives a basic overview of the mechanics of EC (watching for potty signs, using the pot and cueing), which are correct. But it assumes that the intent is to make your child toilet independent sooner than they otherwise would. Now, don’t get me wrong, that is a well documented possible outcome. BUT, it’s not the reason for doing it. Any literature on the subject stresses that this is not about training, it’s about communication.

The second faulty assumption, which is the one I’ve heard most prevalently, is that the parents are being trained. OK, I will admit, I am totally being trained by my baby. He gives me signs that he’s hungry and since he isn’t able to feed himself independently, I feed him. When he does wet or dirty his diaper he gives me signs that he needs cleaned up and I clean him up. I don’t understand how being trained to help the baby on the toilet is somehow worse than being trained to clean his butt after he potties in his diaper. Please enlighten me.

Now, all other “methods” discussed in this article had pro’s and con’s and firsthand experience stories. Did EC? Guess… You’re right!! Not even close just a statement that “experts” agree you can’t potty train an infant. “Experts” in a national magazine. No, not Dr. McPotty-Pants from We Know Potty’s Inc. or even Mommy Lazybird no, just “experts agree.” In a nationally syndicated magazine. I am so disappointed. They could have at least quoted an EC source or treated it with the same respect as the “bribe ’em to poo” method. (Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt the effectiveness of getting preschoolers to do anything in exchange for M&Ms, Lil C would sell his whole family for a mega bag of those things…)

Whether you EC or not, whether you agree with EC or not you have to acknowledge that this treatment is not just a smear job on alternative parenting (alternative! this is how MOST of the children in the world are raised…) and really poor journalism.