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lactivism

May 7, 2011

My cousin Rachel, a nurse at a pediatrician’s office, wrote on Facebook that “lactivists” owe her some flowers or ice cream for making her day way harder than it needed to be. She wrote,

It’s one thing to be supportive of breast feeding, but the poor mom I talked to on the phone today recoiled in horror when I told her it would be better to supplement with formula rather then cow’s milk for her 9-month-old. You would have thought I suggested she poison the kid. She’s done a great job of feeding her baby, there’s no reason for her to feel the guilt she feels at supplementing with formula. Whoever decided that this issue needs to be so polarized owes me a sundae.

These comments brought forth a rush of good-humored Facebook conversation. As the mother of a happy, healthy, well-bonded consumer of baby formula, I commented,

I’m a Similactivist. I’m Similac Sensitive so thanks for letting me express my bottled up feelings on your wall. Just had to get it off my chest. I feel 2% better. I’m not having a cow, just milking the pun opportunity for all it’s worth.

Since we’re on the topic, here’s a picture of Oliver working on his formula at a Nerd Party last year.

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meat fleet

April 28, 2011

I saw a meat delivery truck today with a catchy slogan on it: “Never a bum steer.”

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math

April 27, 2011

My brother-in-law was browsing the Mathematics section of a bookstore, and this clever title caught his eye: Here’s Looking at Euclid.

aldi inspiration i need

April 21, 2011

Regarding a recent post about my son, a commenter said she had hoped for a picture. How could I resist?

Here’s my little guy, in trousers that fit:

i dig the digest

April 21, 2011

Peter: You need to start blogging again. People appreciate your brand of humor. That’s why Reader’s Digest is so big.

I consider that a high compliment. A longtime dream of mine has been to get a joke published in that fine publication.

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tiny trousers

March 24, 2011

To my 9-month-old in 6M jeans: “Oliver, these pants are on their last leg.”

for the record

March 23, 2011

My father-in-law told us how, as a youngster, he secretly joined a record club and kept the flat, vinyl contraband under a rug, hidden from his parents. This was a clever ruse, but short-lived—his thorough father discovered Petula Clark’s hiding spot while vacuuming.

This story reminded me of another: The Princess and the LP.