Ms. Jackson done sang it: "I'm in CONTROL."

I hate controlling relationships. To see a person subjugate oneself to another, the so-called "alpha," him or her rimlicking without knowing it, his/her head totally in the dark of the domineering person. It is not just chauvinist men controlling doormat women -- it pisses me off more to see a woman pistol-whipping a man, emasculating him to the point of rendering him a certified eunuch.

The acrid taste that comes up when a girl talks flippantly of her "stupid boyfriend," or a woman demeaning "her man" for not doing exactly what she demanded or summoning some innate ESP and reading her mind. It comes up whether she chastises him in front of me, or confides to me her dissatisfaction and tries to appeal to our common womanhood -- that supposedly as a woman, she automatically possesses the "universal right" in a relationship. (I have to check myself and admit I'm guilty of this BS in past relationships. I know now why I acted and reacted that way. As I've said, know your triggers...)

An eyewitness account of such a dysfunctional relationship: my former best girlfriend from the neighborhood. (Bitch was already on the outs with me since being a histrionic mooch at my birthday celebration, for which she is too conceited to apologize.) She enslaves her husband en total. He's indebted to her because their "love match" of a marriage also fortuitously saved him from deportation -- and she makes him pay for it with his pride. The whole purpose of his being now is to make his wife successful. I've never heard what his goals are.

No wonder he drinks himself into a stupor almost every night. No wonder he wants to spend his whole paycheck playing pool at pubs, defying his wife's Oprah-budget rules. I can even understand his violent side, the anger he takes out on inanimate objects, the Martha-Stewart WASPy material things she so covets and values. She boasts how she plucked him from the crowd, changing him from a shirking wallflower, picked his hipster clothes and turned him into something; now she is horrified to see what that something really is.

I don't hang out with them anymore. My easygoing smile and nonmaterial outlook are wasted on the likes of them. (Before I cut them off, I had a very bemusing incident, maybe too much to recount on this blog.) She refuses to ever admit she's wrong. She expects me to be as a much of a bootlicker as her husband. Don't hold your breath, woman. I actually enjoy hearing dissenting viewpoints -- openness deepens understanding. But I won't back down from my principles.

As a single mother, I have to be very selective when choosing a potential partner (even if it's just for a fun time or a good screw). Being steadfastly Pro-Choice, it was a point of empowerment for me to choose to be a single mother. Whoever I bring now into my life and my son's life, I have to enforce that same control. I am looking for an equal.

This other single mom does not understand what it's like to be me:

From babble.com: Another Non-Father Emasculated By Support Court: Pay Up or Go to Jail.

Read Karen Murphy's blog article and my comment.

What a great day I had in the city!

I was going to my weekly therapy appointment and walking out of the subway station, what should I see standing in the middle of a workday in Midtown Manhattan? Four babywearing moms, conversing.

I had to go up to them and complement them. On closer inspection, the babies were all toddlers! One was nursing too! I was so happy to see mothers just like me, going about their daily lives, doing what I am doing too -- I have babyworn my 28-lb son since birth and continue to give him the benefits of breastfeeding beyond age one.

I chatted them up further -- they were members of the "Slings in the City" group and knew the founder Bianca too. They told me about an attachment parenting Yahoo group that shared my views on mandatory HPV vaccination (the opinions that got me banned from my neighborhood mommy Yahoo group). They totally reinforced my thinking that there are mothers who don't want to be milquetoast about important issues and conform to mainstream thinking, even if the establishment of moms says you have to talk about "poopy diapers," not politics. I felt vindicated.

I wish I took a picture of them. It was priceless.

After my appointment, I went to Maternity Works, an outlet store for the Motherhood maternity and nursing apparel line (plus some more upscale brands). I treated myself to a lace-trimmed gray cotton chemise with matching robe (I love-love lounging robes). It was designed for nursing, but I could definitely wear it after my child weans (it doesn't have odd peekaboo slits that give it away to be easy access to the nipple; it's very cute and comfy as well). The price was a little more than I would pay, but I consider it an investment in a little piece of personal luxury.

I chatted up the salespersons at Maternity Works too. They were two sweet, funny young women, one of which was a single mother of three. They also shared the importance of women, mothers especially, sometimes letting loose from their daily stresses and going out, having unadulterated fun without any shame. The childless girl told me about cool, casual bars in Greenwich Village (ones that I vaguely remember from my sheltered college days at NYU) where flats are more practical than heels. I like those kinds of unpretentious places, divey bars where bikers, beatniks and bankers can share the same counter. I've got to go out more!

This day will go down in the annals of this LushMommy's life. I smiled at the beginning of the day, saying "hi" to elderly ladies I passed in my neighborhood, who probably haven't heard that very often from a Gen X or Y-er. I smile contentedly as I wrap up this post, with my sweet baby boy lying on my lap, as I nurse him to sleep.

What is a LushMommy?

It is a woman who happens to be a mother, and wants to keep the same identity she had before she had a child. She is entitled to develop her identity further, within and beyond her state of motherhood. She is entitled to have fun and freedom, whether or not she is married, commited or single.

She will always remember she is a mother, but she is still a woman, and sometimes she likes to get her groove on.

Also visit: Mothers for Social Drinking: Statement of Belief