OK, I confess: I stopped breast feeding. The La Leche League is out to crucify me. I’ve been afraid to leave the house because I see them circling their mini-vans when I look out the window. I’m considering going into a witness-relocation program. I found a whole generation of women my mother’s age willing to hide me. They’ve been terribly supportive, giving me comfy slippers, teaching me the secrets of Benadryl. Even encouraging me to let the baby sleep on his tummy for naps if that’s what he really wants to do. He keeps flipping over in his sleep anyway.