It's 11 p.m. on a Tuesday night, but I'm too wired to sleep. I've just emerged from my basement studio, where I've spent a large portion of the day drawing an image of my bare breast. You wouldn't think I had that much breast to occupy hours of drawing, would you? Somedays my pencil goes over... and over... and over an area trying to acheive that perfect blend. The good news is that the sought-after perfect blend was finally, painstakingly acheived.

I'm working on a big drawing featuring myself nursing Ridley. It's perhaps a little surprising that it wasn't until after I bore a child that I felt the need to create semi-nude portraits of myself, stretch marks and all. An unexpected outcome of motherhood has been a much greater appreciation of my body, ultimately resulting in an improved body image. The fact that my body delivered a new life into this world, then manufactured food for said new life, is completely empowering. I am woman....yattayattayatta... Perhaps the experience of childbirth itself, with it's loosening of boundaries as far as the "intimate" areas of your body are concerned, prompts one to reexamining previously held notions of one's own body. The experience of public breastfeeding certainly calls into question societal notions of "decency" -- or, as I refer to it, prudishness. We should celebrate the acheivements of our bodies, not cover them up as something shameful.

Sheesh, ain't I sounding like a hippie-dippie granola-eatin' Earth Mama? I'd better get a handle on myself before I leap into the garden to perform some sort of pagan moon dance.

Speaking of earth mothers, can you believe that Ridley's 15-months old and I'm still nursing him? I surely didn't plan to be nursing a toddler, but things just worked out that way. I'm certain that the day Ridley indicates he wants to wean, I'm going to be totally bummed. Yet another aspect of motherhood that I didn't anticipate.

Life, man, it's just one big classroom.