You’re manufacturing not just a whole, spleen-and-blood-filled human being, but its cafeteria, to boot! Yep, that’s a placenta, folks. Our little monkey’s placenta, to be exact, brandished by our walking-godess midwife. And no, we didn’t bury it in the backyard, or feast on it the next week. (Who knew? There’s
Butch Mama chum representing along SF LGBT Pride route, June 27, 2005. So, where did we leave off, from Mommy wars, the lesbian episode, part 1? Ah, yes: how it comes to be that spawning kids, or adopting them, or any other parental variant, manages to be both radical and
[Warning: jumbo essay alert! Read at own risk!] Of course this Sunday I would be slug enough not to have even unwrapped, much less read, the NY Times, a weekly luxury I refuse to give up, even when the monthly budget calls for cutting the tuna fish with cat food.