A Clarification? An Apology? A Clari-logy? An Apol-ification?

I expected the response I got yesterday.

I did.

And thus, I am still making my way through the e-mails and responding to each and everyone of you with respect, whether you agreed with me or not. (If you didn't attach an e-mail address to your profile, but would like a response, please note below. Many of you would be surprised that I have rather kind things to say to you. I even agree with some of you that weren't too kind to me.)

That being said, I do realize that my "blog persona" is not really anything like my real-life self.

But I'm not so sure all of you realize that.

The fact of the matter is, in person, I'm straight-up boring. I'm not at all confrontational. I'm really happy being me, with my family, by myself.

But I am a trained journalist. I do, and always have, written with authority. It's something ingrained in me; I can't get rid of it.

I'm not a quiet person, but on paper (or the Internet?), I'm even louder.

In my real life, though, I really don't take myself that seriously. At all.

In fact, if you met me in real life, you'd probably not even label me such an extremist, attachment parent.

After all, I love to wear my baby, but I also adore my stroller. Ella and I jog in it every day, and, well, sometimes? I just do not want to deal with the hassle of strapping her into the Ergo carrier.

And, yes, we co-sleep. But my baby also sleeps in her crib for at least the first half of the night, most nights. I have stuff to do around my house, and sometimes, my husband and I like to have a few moments alone without a baby. So into the crib she goes.

And, yeah, I don't let my baby cry it out. But there has been a day or two where I have literally yelled in my infants face, "Please SHUT UP ALREADY!" then put her in her bed and closed the door so I could have a few moments to compose myself. Can't say I'm proud of it, but I birthed a stubborn child, and sometimes, she gets the best of me.

The fact of the matter is, sometimes, I just need a moment without Ella. I plan my week around when I can go to the grocery store. Without her.

And, yeah, I love breast-feeding. But sometimes, I'd give my right arm so that she'd just take a darn bottle of pumped milk already. So I could leave her for more than 90 minutes without guilt. So maybe someone other than me could put her to bed one night in this lifetime.

I hold Ella a lot, but she also spends time in her exer-saucer. She's with me all day, but some part of those days are spent in her bouncy seat.

I don't vaccinate my child, but man alive, have I had a moment or two where I've stared at her and thought, "Dear God, is she getting whooping cough? Have I gone and killed my baby?"

I am not perfect. Not in a long shot.

I've yelled at my husband because he can leave her to go to work. And I can't.

I've cried tears of frustration because I just want a darn latte, but I can't have dairy or caffeine, thanks to the fact that I've, quite honestly, over-researched what should and shouldn't be consumed while breast-feeding. (Ignorance can be such bliss.)

And yesterday? Well, yesterday I literally walked around with my yoga pants on backwards. For six straight hours.

The best part was, the last hour? I had already realized it, and I was just too lazy to go whip them around. I even thought, "Oh, heck, who cares? Ella came out of me. It's not like she cares that the butt of my pants is now giving me one very saggy crotch shot."

I poke fun at myself a lot, too.

I had a dear friend - who full on told me she loved her epidural-births and wouldn't have it any other way (to which I responded, "Good for you!" for the record) - who asked me for a teething solution for her son that's Ella's age.

My response?

"Well, I can get you an amber teething necklace to borrow, but you know me and my crazy hippie crap. Even I don't know if it actually works sometimes."

We laughed while she gave her son a bottle of milk while I nursed my daughter. We get along perfectly fine and often don't discuss our differences. But when we do, it's with the utmost respect for each other.

***

I'm also a walking oxymoron. At a cookie swap next week, I'm making a healthy chocolate chip cookie.

And pound cake. With three sticks of butter.

It's horrible for you. And it's amazing all in the same bite.

Heck, I think I'm wrong for eating it. But sometimes, well, a girl's just wrong. I'm not scared of that.

My own mother had a C-section, three of them, actually. That's how I was born. And I have an awesome mother. She and I just made different choices. Her right was not my right, and her wrong was not my wrong, and, well, that's OK. That, for me, doesn't make a lick of difference in how good of a parent my own mother was.

Why should it? Our status as good mothers is not contingent on conclusions we reach or choices we make, different or alike.

Love does.

***

The fact of the matter is, I don't feel threatened when people think I'm wrong.

I had a woman tell me a few weeks back, upon learning that my child was un-vaccinated at a mutual friend's play-date, to "keep your filthy little germ-breeder" away from her.

I was kind of shocked and appalled at her tone. But I didn't really take offense that she thought I was out-and-out wrong not to vaccinate Ella, as she proceeded to expound on later.

Honestly, I've always felt that I'm secure enough in my decisions that people's disagreements with me don't bother me.

In fact, as many of you stated yesterday, it's only when I doubt myself that I often find myself wounded by people I believe are judging me.

As I get older, that happens less and less.

I also find myself growing more and more confident in my choices. And more and more imperfect, as a whole. I am woefully human, after all.

I don't know. Maybe I'm not sensitive enough. Maybe I'm lacking an empathy gene or something.

I know I hurt people's feelings yesterday, and whether or not you believe me, that was never my intention.

Did I want to make a point? Sure.

But the fact of the matter is, I am too darn busy with my own life to notice whether or not someone chooses to formula-feed their child. In fact, most of the time, if I actually notice someone with formula in hand, I assume it's because they have a need for it; contrary to popular belief, I don't judge based on snap assumptions.

And, when weighing a lot of individual situations, I can see why something I think is wrong in some instances - let's just say formula, again, for continuities sake - can be the right choice in others. It's for reasons like this that I don't concern myself with others' choices on a day-to-day basis, unless they expressly ask for my opinion.

For instance, I have never once left a negative comment on any blog I read, even when they disagree with me, name-call my methods and parents like me, or use a tone I find offensive. (And I have seen many of those posts. And yeah, they weren't so nice. But I truly don't feel the urge to call the writer out on that, either.)

If I really don't like the material, I will stop reading. Some of you did that here yesterday, and that is totally your right. I don't have a problem with that.

But very often, I simply think that my issue with what's written and my opinion of the author's tone is simply that - my opinion. It's coming from my perspective. That isn't the writer's problem that I took it that way, and often enough, I will continue to read. Unless you list my name off word for word, I don't take anything personally.

In other words, yes, I have convictions, but unless you broach those convictions with me, I don't bring it up.

Though the woman who saw me nursing my baby the other day sure did when she immediately quipped, "Isn't she a little old for that?"

But other than being shocked, I didn't really reply.

On my blog, I write about what's important to me, but in the real world, unless asked, I don't just start spouting off about it.

In fact, I'm much more likely to comment on your adorable baby's outfit - What can I say? I'm a sucker for a romper! - than ask what if you had a vaginal delivery.

Because honestly, who just out-and-out asks a woman, "So, uh, did that baby of yours come out of your lady bits?"

***

I"m really not that intense in person.

I'm just a mom trying to survive.

I'm just a mom who honest-to-goodness never wants to hurt anybody.

I don't think every decision I make has a right or wrong answer. There are multiple ways to discipline children, for instance. I don't think there is a right or wrong there, short of, say, beating your kids to a pulp.

There are also multiple ways to diaper babies. Even though I use cloth, that is a preference, not a position of correct-ness. No right or wrong there.

And there are also multiple ways to put kids down to sleep - I love co-sleeping, but I don't think someone is wrong for putting a newborn in a crib instead.

Yes, there are other things I don't agree with, based on the research I've done and the experiences I've had.

There are certain things I think are right and certain things I think are wrong. In parenting. In life, as well.

I assume the same of all us.

I am not shocked that some of you fervently held to your parenting methods yesterday, though they differ from mine. In fact, I applaud you for that, whether you called me names or not.

After all, you are the mother. You know what's best for your babies; I have no say when it comes to what you find right or wrong for your family.

I say that openly, honestly, with my whole heart.

But that also leads me to my last question, which isn't rhetorical, though it may sound that way:

If everyone feels so convicted in their choices, why do you truly care what I think, anyway?

***

I do have a serious side.

I like to talk politics and religion. And I have best friends who are in diametrically opposite faiths and political parties than my own.

We ultimately disagree with each other a lot, but we love each other.

I thought that was normal, but I'm getting the impression lately that far more of you all don't talk about differences with those close to you.

I do feel awkward now, knowing that others aren't coming from the same place as me, knowing that others have not debated faith with their college roommates or politics over the Thanksgiving table.

Maybe that's just my family and my friends. That's OK. I come from passionate stock, I suppose.

And it leaks out into my blog, which yesterday, you all read of your own choice.

But even with that, there was no need to participate in friendly dialogue with me. So those of you who did exchange e-mails with me last night, please know that I truly appreciated it and found a few friends in the mix of this controversy, as well.

***

In closing, I say here's to your beliefs. You have them; I support them. Even if I don't agree with them.

No one ever said I had to, anyway.

***

Happy Thursday, everyone!