I was clicking around and I landed on the blog of a New York mother who writes that she’ll wash her breasts, nightly, and nurse her toddler to sleep.  Then later, she will be awoken, nightly, to change a wet diaper at midnight.  This is her routine, this self-proclaimed Attachment Parent.

When I read things like this, I think, “I need to stop reading blogs.”

The only reason I wash my breasts is because I’m taking a shower.  And this does not quite happen every day, friends.  Not that you’re surprised.  Spending 10 minutes under the hot, comforting water, letting my mind wander, I do this for me.  As if personal hygiene could be anything but personal.  It’s like when my (childless) girlfriend K and I meet for breakfast and she always looks polished and put together, wearing lipgloss and expensive shoes.  She shrugs and informs me, “I get dressed for me.”  And I know, in a way, she is on to something.

The decisions we make for ourselves and our families are very personal.  Perhaps I’m threatened by the idea of extending yourself so far as to share your bed – and so much more – with your baby after he or she has turned one year old.  I have read about AP and, after plaguing me with guilt, their website forces me to shrug my shoulders and say, “That’s not my way.”

Besides, my son tries to put his shoes in his mouth.  Often.  How could a person’s breasts be dirty by comparison?  I mean, really.

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