Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Why Babies Are Like Tomato Sauce

This blog may be a far stretch for some to handle, but anyone that really knows me also knows that I can relate just about anything and everything to food.

so off we go, shall we?

SO my theory. Babies and Tomato Sauce. The one thing that everyone can without a doubt agree on is that in order to have either, there is one crucial ingredient. Since I'm related to a lot of Polish folk, I'll spell it out---- regardless of size, color, shape, etc--- every pregnancy/baby needs a fertilized egg, and every tomato sauce needs tomatoes to make it official. Can we agree on this?

Baby, oh baby!
In my opinion, that's about the only sure thing for either situation. The chemical makeup, the cook time, the texture, the flavor---- they're all different for each sauce out there. Everyone has their opinion as to how it should be done, and everyone's a critic with the final result. Some are seedy, some are tart---- others runny, and others rich. I'd say no two are alike, but once you get a recipe, you can pretty much stabilize your results. Even so, though, the only time you get TRULY identical results is when the sauce comes from the same batch.

Call it hunger, call it boredom, but I couldn't help but think about this last night while I sat in the nipple hell I shall refer to as my breastfeeding class. Not that the woman teaching this class was scary or anything, but she had the intimidation factor of a little old Italian woman with a stray curly hair sticking out of her chin. That is, a little old woman with a stray curly hair sticking out of her chin trying to teach your culture-less ass how to make a good tomato sauce.

This woman spouted on for 2 hours about how anything OTHER than breast milk was bad for babies, and a mother should respond to her crying child the minute it makes noise and stuff a breast in its mouth.... Imagining this woman's hurken breasts stuffed into a child's mouth was disconcerting enough, but then she put a video on, and I got more than my share of unpleasantries.

I've openly said before I'm going to try to breast feed, which is all fine and dandy. Being subjected to 2 hours of women massaging their engorged boobs til drops of milk comes out on video was a little too much for me, though. It was like Skinamax hired a teenager to do their latest showcase movie. Yes, I still hear the lambs crying, Hannibal!

So the point of my ramblings today is that despite the over-exposure to nipples last night, and 2 hours of fearing the Milk Reaper teaching the class, I think I've learned something. Everyone has their own style for breastfeeding, raising children, or even making a nice sauce---- and will most likely swear by it. For a newcomer like me, I think the best thing I can do is listen to everyone, filter out most of the garbage, experiment in my comfort zone, and keep testing til it looks, feels and tastes right.

now THAT'S Italian!

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