I'm as leftie-bolshie-crunchy as the next over-educated goofball, but aren't medication-free childbirth, breastfeeding on demand, cloth diapers, and letting my kids sleep in my bed once in a while enough?
Apparently not.
If mine were infants--and I can't even begin to say how glad I am that they're not (been there, done that, laundered the spit-up off the fugly Motherwear nursing t-shirt) some Lamaze educator would be trying to talk me into paying extra close attention to my baby's "Elimination Communication" to ascertain when he or she was going to take a leak or worse. And then I'd rush the child to a potty seat, and help him along by making wee-wee and poo-poo noises.
Two--no, three words: AS. FUCKING. IF.
I mean, imagine the scenario of a sleep-deprived half-crazed new mother. In addition to figuring out what to feed the child and whether he needs another nap or why, in God's name, is he crying his head off AGAIN, she'd be trying to decipher the language of her child's lower G. I. tract.
For Christ's sake, I have difficulty understanding the so-called language of my own.
Something tells me the people behind (hee!) this movement (HAHAHAHAHA!) are first time parents who either have no lives, or are looking for a little project to keep them busy while they're building their yurta, raising llamas, tanning artificial leather, buying Fair-Trade organic coffee beans at the local co-op, and/or regrowing their foreskins.
--P.
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