Parental Misunderstandings.

My friend Shortstuff recently confessed to me that way back when Mo-mo was first born, she misunderstood something that I said.  And she was way too polite and grossed out to ask me to clarify.

We were talking on the phone, and Batman called to me from the other room.  Hold on, I said, Batman is calling me.  I listened to what he had to say.  I have to go, I told her. Batman needs my help.  There's a poop emergency.  

Being that Mo-mo was fairly small, what I thought I conveyed was that Mo-mo had managed (as young babies do) to poop through the side of her diaper and Batman needed a hand getting her gross onesie off and giving her a quick bath. 

What Shortstuff thought I meant was that Batman was having a poop emergency.  And she was rather alarmed and confused, having no idea 1) how a grown man could have a poop emergency and 2) what sort of help I could lend my husband during said poop emergency. 

I am actually impressed that she was able to look him in the eye after that.

Sexism, McDonald's, and over-thinking the whole shebang

When I ordered the Happy Meal tonight at McDonald's, the cashier asked me, "Boy or girl?"  My response:  "Girl.  I mean boy.  I want the boy toy."

Because, quite frankly, the girl toy sucks.

Really, McDonald's?  This is the best you can do?

 It is a small replica of Skechers shoe that lights up.  

How in the world do you play with it?  Do you pretend it's flying?  Maybe pretend that it is looking for its other half?  Nah.  You watch it light up, clip it to a purse, and say how pretty it is.  Maybe you're inspired to start begging for some real shoes like it.  It's so....passive.

The boy toy is pretty cool.  They are a series of Batman figurines.  We got Joker--his lapel squirts water, so I'm just going to toss him in with the tub toys. 

Waaaaay cooler.

I've been thinking a lot about "boy" vs. "girl" toys and clothes.  I grew up with two brothers.  I played with their GI Joe's, they played with Barbies--but we only wanted to play if we could be the "right" gender.  (I had one small GI Jane and a helmeted GI Joe I insisted was a girl, my brothers played with Ken.)  I had a set of Legos I adored, but only felt comfortable playing with them because they were pink.  This wasn't a mindset that my parents encouraged in any way, it was just something that I decided.

I love shopping for Mo-mo.  Pink, purple, ruffles and hair bows can be fun.  But I also like Back To The Future shirts.  I think monsters, trains, and dogs should be for girls too.  Orange, green, and blue are great colors.  And do you know how hard it is to find a girl's shirt with an "I love my mommy" sentiment?  Nigh impossible to find.  

Mo-mo is an awesome mix of girly-girl and tom boy.  She loves playing outside, playing with balls, and trains.  She also loves high heels, her purse, jewelry, make-up, dancing, and playing with her baby dolls.

My biggest worry is that world will box Mo-mo in.  I don't ever want her to feel as if she has to pick something or behave a certain way because she's a girl.  She can choose soccer over ballet, green over pink, airplanes over princesses.  Or not.  I want it to be her choice.  The moment she tells me that she would prefer the girl toy, I will let her have it (barring anything Bratz related).   

Until then, she can have the Joker figurine.  Because really....a light-up shoe?  It's lame.

Tea, Baby

My two-year old daughter loves hot tea.

I found out this curious fact last winter, as I was sipping my morning cup of Earl Gray.  Momo climbed on my lap and demanded some.  I figured it would be one of those things where she has a sip, makes a face, and never bothers me again about it. 

She had her sip and her eyes lit up.  "More, more, MORE!"

I had created a monster.

Before the internets starts to judge me too harshly, let me tell you this--she only gets very weak decaffeinated tea, lukewarm with tons of milk, and only as an occasional treat.  I no longer drink my morning tea at home because I refuse to let her have it very frequently.

Last week, my family went out to breakfast to celebrate my father's 60th birthday.  There were coffee cups on the tables at the restaurant and so my daughter started asking for tea.

"Let me ask if they have decaf," was my answer.

She slumped down in her high chair and started pitifully moaning as if she were in physical pain.  "Deeeeeeeeecaff!  Deeeeeeeeecaf Mommy! DEEEEEEEEEEECAAAAAAAAAAAAAF!!!!"

Everyone in the restaurant turned towards me and my child who was requesting "decaf" at the top of her lungs.  They probably thought she was jonesing for her morning coffee fix.  I could tell they were smiting me in their minds for getting a toddler hooked on coffee. 

Life is never dull when you have a toddler.

Defining the Mommy: Identity and Parenting

On a work retreat, we wrote down what we wanted to be when we grew up on a slip of paper, then we guessed who wrote what.  I wrote that I had wanted to be an author/illustrator, a marine biologist, a veterinarian, and a colonist on Mars.

One of my coworkers wrote that she had wanted to be mom and a midwife.  Every single coworker guessed that the mom and midwife was my choice. 

Not a huge deal, but this small incident got me thinking about my identity as a mommy.  Why did the people at work automatically equate me to motherhood, and not to anything else?  Admittedly, I was the only mother there--but there is another coworker who has babysat the same children for years and loves kids, and another whose predilections towards yoga and vegetarianism make her the perfect fit as wanting to be a midwife.

At work, I talk a lot about Mo-mo, but I also talk about Batman, my friends, my family, my pets, my hobbies, my interests.  I've had conversations with at least two of my coworkers about what we'd do if we won the lottery.  I said that I would still want to work at least three days a week because I love interacting and working.
 
There are amazing, intelligent, women who are able to find fulfillment in devoting themselves to their home and their family without working outside of the home.  I am not one of them.  I could do it, but I know I would not be happy doing it long term.  In some ways, I feel as if I have to apologize for that.  But I'm also quite proud of my achievements and never want to sell myself short for all that I accomplish.

If I define myself through my work, but my work defines me through my motherhood, who does that make me?

My office place is made up of mostly women in their 20's and 30's.  Very few of us have children.  The organization is trying to become a more welcoming place for families, so those of us with kids are the guinea pigs.  I've worked it out with my boss so that I come in early and I leave early and spend more of the late afternoon with Mo-mo.  If I work during an evening, I come in late so that I can at least eat breakfast with her.  My boss is both encouraging and supportive and wants to create a welcoming, family-friendly environment.

But how does this effect the way my coworkers see me?  Do they see a woman working hard at juggling it all, or do they just see the mommy always putting her child first?

I'm not going to pretend I'm not a mother.  I love Mo-mo too much and it is a big part of who I am.  Nor am I going to resist being labeled just a mom.  You know what?  A mom is an amazing thing to be.  There should be no "just" about it.

All I can really do is work hard and learn fast.  I'll continue to play the balancing game that all working mothers seem to do, and be proud of my accomplishments in both parenting and at work.

The Picky Eater and the Battle of the Wills, Momma vs. Toddler

A lot of parenting seems to be fairly easy.  Keep them safe.  Tell them they're loved.  Expand their world.  

Then, of course, there are the parts that aren't.

I have a bonafide picky eater.  Not only is Mo-mo picky, but she doesn't let us feed her.  She stopped at 10 months.  That's right, as soon as she started on finger food, she absolutely refused to eat anything that we give her directly.  She'll clamp her mouth shut and start to scream if we are persistent.

Up until last week, we've been doing the bad-wussy-parent thing of giving her a special meal of things we knew she'd like.  We'd give her our regular meal first, she wouldn't eat it, then we'd give her things like fruit, bread, cheese, and peanut butter:  the staples of toddler life.  

This pattern is okay for a baby but not for a toddler.  And as much as I don't want to admit it, my daughter is old enough to learn bad habits.  And she's learning that if she doesn't eat what we give her, she just has to wait ten minutes and we'll give her exactly what she wants.  

I refuse to have a child who only eats PB&J at age seven, or who always gets a special meal made for her.  It's just not happening.

So Batman and I are being hardcore meanies.  She only gets what we eat.  We're cutting down on the snacks.  If she doesn't eat, we're not going to make a big deal out of it, but we're only going to offer her what we had for dinner.  

Let me tell you this:  it's hard.

First of all, she's so damn cute when she asks for "gapes" or "fish" (grapes and goldfish).  And it's so damn hard to change a pattern.  

Second of all, I worry about her weight.  She's in the 96th percentile for height and only the 25th for weight.  The pediatrician said to offer her higher calorie options of things, like adding cheese to broccoli.  (And yes, if you're curious, I did ask the pediatrician her opinion about this.  She said that it's better to clamp down and be strict now than try and do it later, when bad habits are firmly established.  And that Mo-mo will eat if she's hungry once she figures out she doesn't get anything else.)

This is especially hard because I was a picky eater.  My parents are divorced, and my mom and my dad had two very different parenting styles.  My mom let me eat whatever I wanted, and it was invariably chicken nuggets, taquitos, and the occasional bomb pop.  My dad made me eat whatever was for dinner.  I always had to at least try the food and finish the portion on the plate.

As I was growing up, I much preferred my mom's relaxed feeding style.  But as an adult, I understand why my dad was so strict.  

Being responsible?  No fun at all.

Five reasons that my toddler is awesome.

Okay, I know that every parent thinks that their child is the smartest, cutest, most amazing child in the world.  But this is different.  My daughter really is.  

The first year of life was pretty nifty.  She figured out the basics of rolling over, crawling, walking, and a bit of talking.  But I have a feeling that this next year is going to be really fun...

1)  She has advance problem-solving skills.  She couldn't reach the doorknob, so she pulled a book off the shelf, pushed it by the door, and stood on it.

2)  Everything is "monkey-see, monkey-do".  She tries to use the furminator on the cats.  She steals keys and tries to use them on the door.  If she's yelling and you shush her, she shushes you right back.

3) She adores cats and dogs.  She pets cats with a minimum amount of smacking.  If there's a dog on TV, she makes a sound like a very excited tea kettle and yells "BUPBUP" (puppy).

4) If you pretend to be asleep, she'll come up and poke your mouth.  That is your cue to pretend to wake up and eat her hand and growl like a monster.  She'll run away squealing-- until you close your eyes again.

5) She sings.  Okay, that doesn't sound too impressive.  But it's still really freakin' cute.  And she isn't quite up to mimicking all the words so most songs just sound like "Bah-bah-bah".  We've actually renamed patty-cake in our house, it's now called "Bah-bah-bah".

Don't Touch My Baby! Also titled Paranoia Paranoia Everybody's Coming To Get You

I've read many variations of the same complaint on mommy websites:

"OMG why do strangers touch my baby This old lady smiled at my baby and touched her hand and I pulled my baby away and said GOD why do you have to be so rude ewwwww germs I need a sign that says hands off"

I don't understand this reaction. 

I get that there is an automatic mommy-bear reaction when someone you don't know is around your baby.  You want to protect them.  You want to make sure the other person is safe.  I get that, I really do, and I'm not advocating handing your child to the man who stands on the street corner mumbling about puppies and George Bush.

There are times that I understand the concern.  If your child is newborn, especially if he/she were premature, I understand the hesitation and frustration when everyone wants to touch him or her.

But my baby is old enough to crawl.  Anything and everything she sees she puts into her mouth.  I've come to the conclusion that she's going to be exposed to dirt and germs, and although I wouldn't want someone with a cough and fever picking her up, I'm okay with a kindly stranger touching her.

Think about it:  It's not like you are spotlessly clean yourself.  No matter how well you wash your hands, they are dirty.  You touch doorknobs, money, your purse--things that have a large amount of germs on them.  If for some reason these things don't have germs in your house, chances are you are over-sanitizing---and that could be even worse for the health of your baby.

When I hear about these complaints, I think about my grandmother.  I think about how babies are a sign of hope and love, and how these ladies just want to say "hi" to a baby and remember their own children and grandchildren.  It's sad to me that the culture of fear is so prevalent that any stranger, no matter their intention, is viewed is suspicion and distaste and even revulsion by some moms.

Moral of the story: please don't be a jerk when someone touches your baby.

Gender and Social Construction, or, My Sociology Degree Allows Me To B.S. With The Best of Them

I'm a liberal person.  I have a degree in sociology--a science where you pretty much have to truly believe that gender and sexuality fall on a continuum rather than in simple categories.  Still, I was annoyed when I read this article.

A couple in Sweden is keeping their two-year old child's gender a secret from everyone.  They refer to the kid only as "Pop".  They're doing this because it's "cruel to bring a child into the world with a blue or pink stamp on their forehead."

This is yet another example of a parent taking an idea and raising it to the power of crazy.

I dress my daughter in baby clothes from the Boy's section at times.  I see no reason that blue, puppies, and monsters should only be allowed on boy babies.  I don't freak out if people call her a boy, because she's just a baby.    She'll have toy cars and cranes, and if I have a baby boy he can play with baby dolls or tutus if he desires.  As she's growing up, I don't want people to only tell her she's pretty--she's also brilliant and funny and sweet and brave and strong.  No matter what she decides about her sexuality or even her gender, I'll always love her and support her. 

But do I think she's going be stunted and confused because people view her as a girl?  Um, no.

My issues/questions:

1) Why this extreme method?  It makes it seem more like a social experiment based on ideology.  The child does not live in a vacuum--he or she is going to hear about people wondering about his/her gender and going to wonder why it's such a big deal, and may result in feelings of shame and embarrassment.  I think that you can create a supportive environment for whatever preferences your child chooses without resorting to hiding gender completely.     

2) How long can this go on?  This is going to have to end before Pop goes to school.  I hope.

4) Are they reinforcing opposite gender expectations?  Are the parents going to be disappointed if Pop is a girl and loves pink dresses?  If he's a boy and loves trucks and sports?  I could totally see this kid disappointing his/her parents if he/she is a walking stereotype.  Maybe I'm not giving them enough credit.

5) Gender pronouns.  I sure hope the Swedish language is better equipped to handle a genderless person because it makes me sad to think about a child being called a dehumanizing "it".

Tall Tales

Based on her current height, the doctor estimates that Mo-mo will be 6'2" as an adult.

clothes added because if my daughter goes upon a rampage destroying a city, she won't be allowed to dress like a hussy.

That's my husband's height. I'm 5'6"--not a bad height, but just one inch above average. There's a wide range of heights in both of our families, but no one who is that tall.

I'm terrified of the day when my daughter hits puberty and becomes the inevitable surly, moody teenage girl. Her possible future height has given me yet another thing to worry about it.

I want her to be confident and love herself and her body. I don't want her to worry about stupid people who make stupid comments. I've come up with three plans of how to deal with this.

Plan A: Wrap her in bubble-wrap and home school her. Never let her leave the house.

I think this is a totally valid parenting option.

Plan B: Teach her sassy responses.

Q: "How's the weather up there?"
A: Cloudy with high probability of annoying.

Q: "You must play basketball!"
A: You must play miniature golf!

Q: "How did you get so tall?"
A: My mother and father hung me up for an hour every evening with weights attached to my ankle. They did it because they believe in the ten tenets of Zoobooblia, our Lord and Alien. The taller you are, the closer you are to Master Zoobooblia. Would you like a religious tract explaining about the starship coming of our Master?


Plan C: Accompany her everywhere and punch anyone who is mean.
I will take down those 7th grade bullies like nobody's business. I ain't scared.



I suppose Plan D is to be a good role model for self-confidence and loving one's own body. But I'm still rather partial to Plan B.

Philosophy, Schmilosophy

Recently I've become more and more alarmed at the idea of "parenting philosophies".

It started when I read this article. And then I read several more articles on the same site. The more I read the more I realized that this author was out of her mind.

(For those of you too lazy to click and want a summary, this blog is about someone who embraces the ideas of Magda Gerber. The first link is all about how parents that use pacifiers are selfish and stifling their children.)

I feel as if the problem with any parenting philosophy is that people adopt it then carry it out to an extreme level. Magda Gerber's theories aren't all that crazy. I believe that you should talk to babies and not only use baby talk. But I don't think my daughter is going to be psychologically stunted because I treat her, well, like a baby.

Attachment parenting is the same way. There are some good theories in it but I've seen mommies take it over-the-top. I like babywearing but sometimes I like using the stroller. Mo-mo slept in our room until she seemed ready for her crib at 3 months. And I don't think she's going to be worse off than another baby who was raised using solely attachment parenting theories because we made those decisions.

The problem with moms that adopt a parenting philosophy: they seem to think, "Huh. Here's a good idea. EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF THIS MUST BE EXACTLY RIGHT FOR MY CHILD, THUS PEOPLE WHO DO ANYTHING DIFFERENT MUST BE WRONG. And their poor child will grow up stunted and disturbed."

If I had to define my parenting philosophy, it would be this:

1) I don't have a parenting philosophy because my daughter has been alive for less than a year and it would be incredibly arrogant to assume that I have all the answers.



Ha ha! Of course I'm kidding. I do have all of the answers.

1) Be flexible
Don't follow every single piece of advice blindly. Just because parts of a (sigh) "philosophy" fit you and your child, doesn't mean all of it will. You are allowed to pick and choose. I won't tell the philosophy police, I promise.

2) Avoid extremes.
Moderation is key. I've read about parents who never tell their child that he/she is smart and only praise their hard work because XYZ study recommended it. Or parents that never tell their child that she's pretty, rather saying that her outfit is nice so as not to focus too much on looks. Or never let their child eat anything with sugar.

You know what? Your kid isn't going to become shallow if you tell her once in awhile that she's pretty. He's not going to be lazy just because you sometimes praise his intelligence. She's not going to be obese because you let her eat a cupcake on a Saturday afternoon.

Relax. Never say never. And pass me a cupcake.

3) Just because it's right for you, doesn't mean it's right for everyone.
I'm looking at you Mrs. Judgypants. You know who you are.

Reason #523 why I probably shouldn't be allowed to have kids

Me: You know what's a fun word? Hobo.

Batman: Hobo?

Me: Yeah, you know--homeless guys with sticks and bindles. It's kind of strange that kids dress up like hobos for Halloween. "Look ma, I'm impoverished!"

(awkward silence)

Me: I think Mo-mo's next word should be hobo.

Batman: So that would make the words she knows....mama, dada, hi, duck and....hobo?

Me: But we'd have to teach it so that she'd say it angrily. So that it would seem like she's calling people hobos. When she doesn't get what she wants she'd yell out, "HOBO!"

(awkward silence as I contemplate how to do this.)

Me: I know! Instead of saying "no", we'll say "hobo" from now on. That way she'll start shaking her head and saying "hobo". But we have to start now. And we have to be consistent.

Batman: .....No.

Me: Don't you mean "hobo"?

Author's note: Humor does not equal reality. You probably shouldn't teach your children to say things just for your own amusement, especially in the wrong context.

Keeping my mind off it

Tonight we Ferberize.

This means that we're putting Mo-mo to bed and trying to teach her how to self-soothe herself to sleep rather than rocking her. This translate to a lot of crying.

Before the holidays, she was sleeping through the night in her own crib with no problem. During Christmas and traveling she got used to co-sleeping with Batman and me. This last month she's been waking up between 2-5 a.m. and coming back to bed with us.

I wouldn't mind it except for two reasons: 1) She a restless sleeper. She kicks and rolls and I generally don't get much sleep. 2) Our animals wake up at 6 a.m., and Mo-mo usually wakes at 7 a.m. The pets wake her up an hour earlier when she's in our bed and it throws her off for the entire day.

So anyway, I'm listening to her cry and waiting until I can check on her again. The idea is to let them cry for a certain amount of time before checking on them. This process is a bitch but I'm told it gets better.

So I figured I'd give you all an update of The List. (It totally deserves capital letters.)

8. Send out five job applications by Feb 1, 2010 (1/5)
God, I hope I have job lined up before we graduate.

27. Organize recipes.
I bought a binder, dividers, and plastic sheet protectors. I am organized!

64. Frame 4 photos (4/4)
I kind of cheated with this one. Batman got a mosaic photo frame for Christmas, so we technically have 8 framed photos now. It looks great in our bedroom.

71. Complete the 30 day shred
This is not going to happen anytime soon. That damn video is HARD. I'm going to do the EA Sports 30 Day Challenge first, then try it again. Yes, I am a wuss.

74. Drink nothing but water for two weeks
One week down, one week to go. I really really really want a glass of wine. Or a diet coke.

89. Give blood at least three times (0/3)
I have an appointment to give blood on Tuesday.


I hope this gets better. It's tough listening to her cry. Poor baby. Poor Mommy and Daddy, too.