It's amazing how the brain works. I was just reading Chocolateer's comment about organic baby formula (oh, I so hear you on that one, girl). This made me curious, so I Googled the ingredient list of regular commercial formula vs. organic commercial formula. I wasn't terribly impressed, but then we're not shocked by this, are we? It comes from happier cows, though. That or happier soy plants. They get to roam the fields (or grow in them) and not get nasty needles or sprays, and they probably get to wear some tiedye. That counts for something, I'm sure.

Anyway, I stumbled upon an article about formula and it's new little friends, essential fatty acids, which were added in to make it more like breastmilk. It didn't tell me anything I don't already know, mind you. There have been no longterm studies proving that these are any better than the old formulas. Just because a child does a couple more things at a year old doesn't make them a brainiac compared to the kid who's parents didn't buy the powdery stuff in the gold can. And, of course, none of these groups of babies are doing better than those fed the free stuff straight from the tap.

Lactivist in me aside, I see why formula is available, and why it must be improved upon for those babies who can't receive exclusive breastmilk for a variety of reasons. I'm glad that infants who aren't able to nurse are not doomed to sickly bones and menial jobs and lives of stupidity.

I just hate formula companies because they're evil, that's all. Evil, evil, evil. They suck women in with their cute little brochures in the doctor's offices and heavy advertising around anything childbirth and infant related. I cringed when a mom friend of mine suggested I write to N3stl3 for their 'cute little tote bag' I could use for Spawnling.

It's apparent this friend does not understand my loathing of said company, and does not read the emails I receive updating me on the ongoing battle against said company for their destructive ways in third world countries, where their marketing ploys kill thousands of infants every year.

If I ordered one of their tote bags, it would be for the sole purpose of filling it up with dog manure and a stack of stolen brochures from an obstetrician's office and lighting it afire. It would make a mighty YouTube video. I could wear a mask and not wear a bra while I'm at it, for added flair. Who says thirty-one-year-olds can't be rebellious? "Hey! That masked-but-obviously-lactating mother isn't wearing a bra! She's so.... bad."

Take that, tote bag!

Anyway, this article stated that formula is necessary when it's not practical to breastfeed. I sat at the screen and wondered just how many ways that could be interpreted. Practical can range from something legitimate like 'This baby has no mother to nurse it' to something slightly less legit, like 'I don't see how I can keep my weekly hair appointments and my bowling commitments and my girls' night out' if I have to breastfeed.

Both of those are impractical, you know?

Breastfeeding isn't always practical. But neither is pregnancy and nor are the next eighteen+ years, people. Practicality does not mesh well with any stage of parenting. It's a test of wild, chaotic, unpredictable...ness. That's the thrill of the ride.

At any rate, I went and checked out the definition of impractically, which is as follows:

Main Entry: im·prac·ti·cal
Pronunciation: (")im-'prak-ti-k&l
Function: adjective
: not practical: as a : not wise to put into or keep in practice or effect b : incapable of dealing sensibly or prudently with practical matters c : IMPRACTICABLE d : IDEALISTIC

And I realized that yes, the definition could justify those times when breastfeeding just can't happen.

I also came to the conclusion that the a person who works for a dictionary company and comes up with how to describe the word in question is a person who doesn't go out on Saturday nights because nobody invites them.

No, not me. The other person who doesn't go out on Saturdays. I breastfeed, but people still love me.

Well, if they don't love me at least they comment on my posts.

Sometimes.

I'm going to cry now. This post has become impractical for me to continue.