I generally avoid blogging about politics because I don't think I do it well and I don't enjoy arguing. But lately I've had some gnawing thoughts on the brain, and I need to vent.
Apparently, as of this past Tuesday, Florida congresswoman and Democratic National Committee Chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz was unaware of President Obama's well-known kill list.
The President's kill list has been widely reported, including this informative New York Times front page story from May 29, 2012.
Wasserman Schultz's ignorance is shameful, and yet I find it perfectly representative of many Democrats' response to the President's kill list and the way he has embraced drone warfare. Could she really be that dumb? Or rather, is she, on some subconscious level, aware of actions she can't abide and using denial as a means of coping? How does a liberal deal with the cognitive dissonance that comes with trying to reelect a leader who unilaterally ordered the killing of a U.S. citizen?
Here's how I've dealt with it - I do want Obama to defeat Romney, who would certainly not improve upon the foreign policy precedents established by the former, and whose domestic policy (as far as I can make out) is abhorrent.* But I refuse to get excited about our leader or his campaign. I skipped watching the convention, because there are big chunks of the past four years that I don't want to feel good about. And yes, I've skipped the debates, too. I prefer to read recaps, because in those tense, live TV moments, I find it difficult to not cheerlead for the side that better represents my views. Essentially, I'm taking a very pragmatic, unsentimental approach to this presidential election.
I realize that my approach doesn't win races, especially in a culture so fixated on fun times and entertainment. Trust me, feeling this way is no fun at all. I'm far beyond disappointed in our President, but the cultishness of his most ardent followers continues to disappoint me every day. One thing I'll say for our leader is that when he's on, has an incredible knack for inspiring his fans. When you consider that, it's almost easy to see how Wasserman Schultz-style denial becomes a very attractive means of dealing with the cognitive dissonance.
* This is not to say that I will be voting for Obama. I will be voting. I live in a red state. I'm exploring my options. There are more than two.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Birth Story Revisited
My friend G, a Bradley Method instructor, asked me to share my birth story via Youtube so she could play it for her class. Coincidentally, this whole wacky adventure got started a year ago today. Revisiting this story has been a very satisfying perspective-checking experience. So, I thought I'd share the videos on here. Total running time is about 19 minutes. This is based on my Planning for Peanut blog posts from last November. Here are links to part 1 and part 2 of the written story.
Video, part 1
Video, part 2
And on a completely unrelated note, here is a tribute to our American League Champion Detroit Tigers - woohoo!!!
Video, part 1
Video, part 2
And on a completely unrelated note, here is a tribute to our American League Champion Detroit Tigers - woohoo!!!
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Confessions of a Mildly Detached Mother: Sleep Training
In this blog series, I examine the conventions of "attachment" parenting (which I wholeheartedly embraced before my child's birth), and detail how I have fallen short of those ideals. I don't mind being imperfect. If child rearing is a competition, I forfeit.
Sleep Training
I Ferberized my baby.
Doesn't that sound so evil?
Shut up! I don't care what you think, with your stupid, judgmental face.
Okay, obviously I do care. And if you are a firmly attached mom or dad, maybe you think I've done a bad thing. That doesn't change my feeling that this was one of the best parenting decisions we've made so far.
This sleep training system is named after the Dr. Ferber who developed it. I'm not going to bother with the five minute internet search that would help me present a more detailed history of the man and his controversial method. Basically, our pediatrician, Dr. C, told us about it and we did what he said. Only later did I learn that this was that thing called "Ferberizing" a.k.a. "crying it out".
"This is a great opportunity to begin sleep training," the good doctor said at our four month visit. "She's developing a more adult sleep cycle and she doesn't really need to feed more than once between, say, 6:00pm and 5:00am. Eventually, she won't even need that one feeding. You may just want to skip it for her."
The thought of a regular bedtime and waking up only once in the middle of the night thrilled me. I hadn't slept for more than four straight hours at a time since the middle of my pregnancy. We picked a date to move her crib out of our bedroom. On that first night, I put her to bed when she fell asleep on her own (around 10pm) and woke up to feed her whenever she cried. On the second night, we followed Dr. C's recommended formula - last breastfeeding an hour before bed, 45 minutes of hardcore playtime, warm and fuzzy bedtime ritual, a little song, then to the crib at 8:00pm. At that point, she did exactly what he predicted. She screamed and screamed. We waited five minutes, then Dan went in to comfort and smooch her. Ten more minutes of screaming, followed by another smoochy comfort visit. We were supposed to wait another fifteen minutes before Dan's next visit, but at 8:20 he blurted, "I can't take this anymore!" and headed to her bedroom door.
That's when I miraculously grew a second, fire-breathing head that bellowed, "Don't even think of going in there!" Normal Tara would never boss her husband, but sleep-deprived Dragon Tara had no such qualms. Alarmed by my other self, I stepped out to the porch for some much needed fresh air.
At 8:25, I returned to silence. Our baby was actually asleep and she remained that way until 11:00pm. I think I fed her twice that night. She had a somewhat easier time getting to sleep the following night. By night three, she was simmering down by 8:10pm.
Here's how it's been since -
- Baby has been pretty great about getting to sleep within ten minutes of bedtime, except when she hasn't, which usually happens when we have company, which makes us feel like shitty, callous parents. The truth is that when company isn't around, it's been pretty easy to deal with her crying. Pre-baby, I never thought my sensitive soul could handle it. I was wrong.
- For the following six and a half months, I still nursed her whenever she awoke. It was twice a night for a while. Then it was just once, except when it was actually three or four times a night, and that's when I wanted to jump off a bridge. What can I say? Teething and growth spurts are a bitch. Some parents will say that the early weeks of waking up every two hours to feed a newborn are the worst, but I disagree. I was mentally and emotionally prepared for that drudgery. The worst is when baby's sleep patterns spontaneously regress.
- I hoped that she would learn to sleep through the night on her own, but that happened just a handful of times by age 10 months. That's when I finally opted to do as Dr. C suggested and just skip those feedings for her. That was a tough choice, not because I felt like I'd be hurting her, but because I felt like I'd already failed as a mom. Other people's kids slept solidly. Why wouldn't mine? But honestly, my sense of failure was more a reaction to other people's concern. I avoided talking about my broken sleep schedule because I couldn't stand those worry-faced expressions. Were they judging me? Maybe, or maybe not. The answer didn't really matter. The point is that for many months, I didn't mind that one midnight meeting with my sweet, snuggly baby girl. Getting out of bed blew, but feeling her melt in my arms as we sat in placid darkness was its own bliss. Nevertheless, I ultimately decided that I wanted at least seven straight hours of slumber more than I wanted to bond during the wee hours.
A few times, I mistakenly tried to implement that change on the fly. "I'm just not going to feed her tonight. Simple as that." Dragon Tara inevitably reemerged when sleepy Dan would roll over in bed and say, "I have to work early tomorrow. Can you just go feed her?" Alas, the baby's screams were too much for either of us to resist and then I'd find myself stumbling through the dark. Eventually, I recalled Dr. C's more organized and purposeful method. We picked a date. We chose our strategies. We tried feeding her water instead of breast milk. When that didn't work we just let her cry. The first night sucked. The second night was a little better. She's slept through nearly every night since.
___________________________________
As I've stated in other Confessions posts, I'm not writing this as advice. I realize my methods may not work for other kids or parents. Rather, I write this for kindred Mildly Detached Parents seeking encouragement. I would like them - you, perhaps - to know that they (you) are not bad people. I'm not a bad person. At least, I strive to be a good person. But I also strive to be happy. Sometimes that means making choices that benefit me instead of putting my child's gratification first. If I always opted for the latter, I'd be a sleepy bitch with sore nipples and no time. And that wouldn't bode well for my relationships with everyone other than the baby.
Sleep Training
I Ferberized my baby.
Doesn't that sound so evil?
Shut up! I don't care what you think, with your stupid, judgmental face.
Okay, obviously I do care. And if you are a firmly attached mom or dad, maybe you think I've done a bad thing. That doesn't change my feeling that this was one of the best parenting decisions we've made so far.
This sleep training system is named after the Dr. Ferber who developed it. I'm not going to bother with the five minute internet search that would help me present a more detailed history of the man and his controversial method. Basically, our pediatrician, Dr. C, told us about it and we did what he said. Only later did I learn that this was that thing called "Ferberizing" a.k.a. "crying it out".
"This is a great opportunity to begin sleep training," the good doctor said at our four month visit. "She's developing a more adult sleep cycle and she doesn't really need to feed more than once between, say, 6:00pm and 5:00am. Eventually, she won't even need that one feeding. You may just want to skip it for her."
The thought of a regular bedtime and waking up only once in the middle of the night thrilled me. I hadn't slept for more than four straight hours at a time since the middle of my pregnancy. We picked a date to move her crib out of our bedroom. On that first night, I put her to bed when she fell asleep on her own (around 10pm) and woke up to feed her whenever she cried. On the second night, we followed Dr. C's recommended formula - last breastfeeding an hour before bed, 45 minutes of hardcore playtime, warm and fuzzy bedtime ritual, a little song, then to the crib at 8:00pm. At that point, she did exactly what he predicted. She screamed and screamed. We waited five minutes, then Dan went in to comfort and smooch her. Ten more minutes of screaming, followed by another smoochy comfort visit. We were supposed to wait another fifteen minutes before Dan's next visit, but at 8:20 he blurted, "I can't take this anymore!" and headed to her bedroom door.
That's when I miraculously grew a second, fire-breathing head that bellowed, "Don't even think of going in there!" Normal Tara would never boss her husband, but sleep-deprived Dragon Tara had no such qualms. Alarmed by my other self, I stepped out to the porch for some much needed fresh air.
At 8:25, I returned to silence. Our baby was actually asleep and she remained that way until 11:00pm. I think I fed her twice that night. She had a somewhat easier time getting to sleep the following night. By night three, she was simmering down by 8:10pm.
Here's how it's been since -
- Baby has been pretty great about getting to sleep within ten minutes of bedtime, except when she hasn't, which usually happens when we have company, which makes us feel like shitty, callous parents. The truth is that when company isn't around, it's been pretty easy to deal with her crying. Pre-baby, I never thought my sensitive soul could handle it. I was wrong.
- For the following six and a half months, I still nursed her whenever she awoke. It was twice a night for a while. Then it was just once, except when it was actually three or four times a night, and that's when I wanted to jump off a bridge. What can I say? Teething and growth spurts are a bitch. Some parents will say that the early weeks of waking up every two hours to feed a newborn are the worst, but I disagree. I was mentally and emotionally prepared for that drudgery. The worst is when baby's sleep patterns spontaneously regress.
- I hoped that she would learn to sleep through the night on her own, but that happened just a handful of times by age 10 months. That's when I finally opted to do as Dr. C suggested and just skip those feedings for her. That was a tough choice, not because I felt like I'd be hurting her, but because I felt like I'd already failed as a mom. Other people's kids slept solidly. Why wouldn't mine? But honestly, my sense of failure was more a reaction to other people's concern. I avoided talking about my broken sleep schedule because I couldn't stand those worry-faced expressions. Were they judging me? Maybe, or maybe not. The answer didn't really matter. The point is that for many months, I didn't mind that one midnight meeting with my sweet, snuggly baby girl. Getting out of bed blew, but feeling her melt in my arms as we sat in placid darkness was its own bliss. Nevertheless, I ultimately decided that I wanted at least seven straight hours of slumber more than I wanted to bond during the wee hours.
A few times, I mistakenly tried to implement that change on the fly. "I'm just not going to feed her tonight. Simple as that." Dragon Tara inevitably reemerged when sleepy Dan would roll over in bed and say, "I have to work early tomorrow. Can you just go feed her?" Alas, the baby's screams were too much for either of us to resist and then I'd find myself stumbling through the dark. Eventually, I recalled Dr. C's more organized and purposeful method. We picked a date. We chose our strategies. We tried feeding her water instead of breast milk. When that didn't work we just let her cry. The first night sucked. The second night was a little better. She's slept through nearly every night since.
___________________________________
As I've stated in other Confessions posts, I'm not writing this as advice. I realize my methods may not work for other kids or parents. Rather, I write this for kindred Mildly Detached Parents seeking encouragement. I would like them - you, perhaps - to know that they (you) are not bad people. I'm not a bad person. At least, I strive to be a good person. But I also strive to be happy. Sometimes that means making choices that benefit me instead of putting my child's gratification first. If I always opted for the latter, I'd be a sleepy bitch with sore nipples and no time. And that wouldn't bode well for my relationships with everyone other than the baby.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Be a Star!
I'm taking a break from my Detached Mother series to share this gem with you. My sister K recently posted this video on her 16 year old daughter's Facebook timeline. From what I gather, this was my niece's jam back in the day. It's the most splendidly awful bit of pop culture I've witnessed in a very long time. I present Tyra Banks singing "Be a Star" from the 2000 Disney Channel movie "Life-Size" starring Lindsay Lohan.
Clearly there's some comic action in this scene that I don't get because I know almost nothing about the plot. And that's fine. I like it that way. At first I assumed the joke was that Tyra is a terrible singer because she is. But I don't think that's why it's supposed to be funny, which makes this perfect. Ms. Banks's enormous ego coupled with her void of self-awareness makes her a most magnetic mess. She was doing the Sarah Palin thing way before Sarah Palin.
When I told Dan about this clip, he said, "Can we please never talk about this again? I kind of hate her. So do you!" He sounded so disappointed in me. It's true, a few years ago I had to break up with Tyra and stop watching "America's Next Top Model". I was fed up with her misplaced sense of importance, despite that being her most entertaining characteristic. I confess, I tried to get back into ANTM last winter when I was housebound with a newborn. Other than eating, there's nothing more fun than getting lost in some engaging drivel when you're sitting around, breastfeeding all day.
Problem was, ANTM had become sucky beyond the point of return. It was that "British Invasion" disaster.Ugh. I used to love this show for the drama. You had your mean girls and your sweet girls, your dummies and your crazies. Now it seems like they're all just different shades of dumb and mean. Is this how casting works when a reality show has been on for too long? Maybe after witnessing so many seasons of catty, cruel and self-loathing behavior, the mean dummies are the only people left who are willing to put themselves through the experience. In any case, their absolute dominance makes for a very boring viewing experience.
ANTM was best when Tyra had no right to assume that she should be a role model to her contestants but lectured at them anyway. Now it seems she really is a better person, and that's just depressing. This scene from "Life-Size" reminded me of the good old days. OMG, do you think she's ever personally lectured Lindsay Lohan?((Sigh)) One can dream.
Clearly there's some comic action in this scene that I don't get because I know almost nothing about the plot. And that's fine. I like it that way. At first I assumed the joke was that Tyra is a terrible singer because she is. But I don't think that's why it's supposed to be funny, which makes this perfect. Ms. Banks's enormous ego coupled with her void of self-awareness makes her a most magnetic mess. She was doing the Sarah Palin thing way before Sarah Palin.
When I told Dan about this clip, he said, "Can we please never talk about this again? I kind of hate her. So do you!" He sounded so disappointed in me. It's true, a few years ago I had to break up with Tyra and stop watching "America's Next Top Model". I was fed up with her misplaced sense of importance, despite that being her most entertaining characteristic. I confess, I tried to get back into ANTM last winter when I was housebound with a newborn. Other than eating, there's nothing more fun than getting lost in some engaging drivel when you're sitting around, breastfeeding all day.
Problem was, ANTM had become sucky beyond the point of return. It was that "British Invasion" disaster.Ugh. I used to love this show for the drama. You had your mean girls and your sweet girls, your dummies and your crazies. Now it seems like they're all just different shades of dumb and mean. Is this how casting works when a reality show has been on for too long? Maybe after witnessing so many seasons of catty, cruel and self-loathing behavior, the mean dummies are the only people left who are willing to put themselves through the experience. In any case, their absolute dominance makes for a very boring viewing experience.
ANTM was best when Tyra had no right to assume that she should be a role model to her contestants but lectured at them anyway. Now it seems she really is a better person, and that's just depressing. This scene from "Life-Size" reminded me of the good old days. OMG, do you think she's ever personally lectured Lindsay Lohan?((Sigh)) One can dream.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Confessions of a Mildly Detached Mother - Diapers, Dinner and Disgust
In this blog series, I examine the conventions of "attachment" parenting (which I wholeheartedly embraced before my child's birth), and detail how I have fallen short of those ideals. I don't mind being imperfect. If child rearing is a competition, I forfeit.
Cloth Diapers
I use cloth diapers because disposables are an ecological hazard and I can't stand synthetic materials touching my wee one's precious bum. Ha ha, just kidding! We use cloth because it's cheaper. Dan and I recently figured that we've been saving at least fifty bucks a month, which means more money we can spend on designer pork products. Woohoo! As long as the current diaper size fits, our savings will increase over time.
We're thrifty about diapering, but not stringently. We frequently supplement with disposables when it's easier (overnight, on vacation, when someone else is watching the baby, etc.). For me, cloth's major drawback is that it's inconvenient. While I don't relish all this labor intensive poop disposal, I don't find the task revolting. I feel for parents who do. I keep thinking about this Disgust Scale test I took a couple years ago. It lists several hypothetical gross out scenarios that you rate from "strongly disagree" to "strongly agree", such as:
Then there are hypotheticals that you rate on a scale from "not disgusting at all" to "extremely disgusting", like:
In the end, I learned that I'm not bothered by germs and dirt as much as I'm sickened by dead things and vermin. But the larger lesson was that disgust is a very personal reaction. As a new parent, I feel very fortunate to be relatively unfazed by feces. If I found poop as upsetting as cockroaches, I would definitely skip cloth diapers. In fact, I'd probably skip the baby altogether.
Solid Food
Like many attached parents, I was totally geared up for cooking, processing and storing my own baby food. I get off on that sort of highly involved kitchen project. That would be the fun part of introducing solid foods to my baby's diet. But I dreaded spoon feeding. Then I learned about Baby Led Weaning and realized I needn't bother with the project or the spoon.
Here's how it worked - I breastfed my daughter until she was six months old. At six months and one day, I started giving her chunks of solid food at mealtime (soft fruits, veggies, bread, cheese - it just had to be "gummable"). By that point, she was physically capable of putting the food in her mouth on her own. Chewing was another story. Some babies take days or weeks to figure it out. They may gag and spit out their food. But at that age their gag reflex is near the front of the mouth so there's little risk of choking. My kid learned to chew pretty quickly, establishing herself as a very curious and eager eater.
I'm glad it's working for her because I'm a huge fan of BLW for many selfish reasons -
No spoon-feeding I have no patience for it, especially those "here comes the choo choo train!" shenanigans. Dining is a cherished pastime. I don't want to manipulate her into enjoying it with me.
She eats the things we eat This is convenient. Also, I don't want to be in the habit of making a separate meal for her.
She eats a wide variety of foods Perhaps because she isn't being force fed (which is pretty annoying to all people who aren't between the ages of four and six months old*), she has a good time at the table and enjoys exploring many kinds of food. She'll probably become more finicky about colors and textures as she gets older. I figure if her scope will inevitably narrow, it's wise to start off with a wide breadth of options.
It provides endless entertainment for grandparents My BLW book warns against staring at babies when they're eating, because it may make them self-conscious. This has never been an issue for my little ham. She loves putting on a show. Her Skype production rivals anything on your Netflix streaming queue. Dinner's broadcast is the best. 6:00 nightly.
We got to put off solid food diapers for an extra two months That's when it starts getting more hands-on and stinky. I miss those carefree days of just breast milk poo.
When my pediatrician, Dr. C, talked about introducing cereals at four months, I told him about my BLW plan. I detected a barely suppressed eye roll in his expression. Oh geez, I thought. He probably thinks this is hippie garbage. So when we returned for her six month checkup, I arrived armed with a long long list of foods she'd already tried.
"She's had cucumber, sweet potatoes, avocado, bananas, even a little broccoli."
Dr. C's eyes widened with surprise. "That's great!"
I felt my shoulders relax, but the desire to prove myself remained. "She's had some bread and cheese, but only a little. I know she isn't supposed to have too much sodium."
"The important thing is that she brings the food to her mouth on her own. You'll want to avoid nuts, seeds and saltwater fish in the first year. Otherwise, just make sure the food is finger soft. Oh, and she'll like broccoli better if it's been cooking with meat all day."
"But is it okay to season it like that? What about the sodium?" In hindsight, it seems my voice was so shrill.
He bore a squinty expression, followed by another suppressed eye roll. "Just season it how you would season it for yourself. Her pulmonary system is brand new. She'll be fine."
Duh. Of course she'll be fine, because she eats what I eat and I eat really, really well. I make it a priority. I save money on cloth diapering so I can spend more on fresh, often organic, unprocessed foods. I work at a health food store so I can get a discount on these things. Baby Led Weaning makes sense for us because we already love cooking for ourselves. I can see that it wouldn't be such an enjoyable undertaking in a less food-centric household.
It also wouldn't be much fun if you're repulsed by the constant mess. Again, I must consider my position on the Disgust Scale. Post-meal debris doesn't bother me. I do thorough cleanings at restaurants and other people's houses, but I care less at home. I'm often discovering crusty bits of my daughter's last meal stuck in the corners of her high chair just as I'm getting her ready for the next meal. Between cleaning her hands, face, table top and bibs, I get distracted. Many of her clothes are forever stained with peach nectar and tomato juices. I figure it's okay because she's a baby and her natural good looks tend to draw more attention. Heaven help her if she's destined to be a glamour queen because I am clearly an obstacle in that path. Oh, well. If in twenty years she's still willing to dine with me in public, we'll be alright.
*This is the main reason pediatricians recommend starting a baby on cereal at four months. It isn't because the child requires solid food at that age. It's because a four month old will tolerate spoon feeding, and cereal is the easiest thing for them to digest. In other words, it's for training purposes, not nutrition.
Cloth Diapers
I use cloth diapers because disposables are an ecological hazard and I can't stand synthetic materials touching my wee one's precious bum. Ha ha, just kidding! We use cloth because it's cheaper. Dan and I recently figured that we've been saving at least fifty bucks a month, which means more money we can spend on designer pork products. Woohoo! As long as the current diaper size fits, our savings will increase over time.
We're thrifty about diapering, but not stringently. We frequently supplement with disposables when it's easier (overnight, on vacation, when someone else is watching the baby, etc.). For me, cloth's major drawback is that it's inconvenient. While I don't relish all this labor intensive poop disposal, I don't find the task revolting. I feel for parents who do. I keep thinking about this Disgust Scale test I took a couple years ago. It lists several hypothetical gross out scenarios that you rate from "strongly disagree" to "strongly agree", such as:
"Even if I was hungry, I would not drink a bowl of my favorite soup if it had been stirred by a used but thoroughly washed flyswatter."
(My answer - strongly disagree. Borscht rules!)
Then there are hypotheticals that you rate on a scale from "not disgusting at all" to "extremely disgusting", like:
"Your friend's pet cat dies, and you have to pick up the dead body with your bare hands."
(Sorry, friend. I find your dead cat extremely disgusting.)
In the end, I learned that I'm not bothered by germs and dirt as much as I'm sickened by dead things and vermin. But the larger lesson was that disgust is a very personal reaction. As a new parent, I feel very fortunate to be relatively unfazed by feces. If I found poop as upsetting as cockroaches, I would definitely skip cloth diapers. In fact, I'd probably skip the baby altogether.
Solid Food
Like many attached parents, I was totally geared up for cooking, processing and storing my own baby food. I get off on that sort of highly involved kitchen project. That would be the fun part of introducing solid foods to my baby's diet. But I dreaded spoon feeding. Then I learned about Baby Led Weaning and realized I needn't bother with the project or the spoon.
Here's how it worked - I breastfed my daughter until she was six months old. At six months and one day, I started giving her chunks of solid food at mealtime (soft fruits, veggies, bread, cheese - it just had to be "gummable"). By that point, she was physically capable of putting the food in her mouth on her own. Chewing was another story. Some babies take days or weeks to figure it out. They may gag and spit out their food. But at that age their gag reflex is near the front of the mouth so there's little risk of choking. My kid learned to chew pretty quickly, establishing herself as a very curious and eager eater.
I'm glad it's working for her because I'm a huge fan of BLW for many selfish reasons -
No spoon-feeding I have no patience for it, especially those "here comes the choo choo train!" shenanigans. Dining is a cherished pastime. I don't want to manipulate her into enjoying it with me.
She eats the things we eat This is convenient. Also, I don't want to be in the habit of making a separate meal for her.
She eats a wide variety of foods Perhaps because she isn't being force fed (which is pretty annoying to all people who aren't between the ages of four and six months old*), she has a good time at the table and enjoys exploring many kinds of food. She'll probably become more finicky about colors and textures as she gets older. I figure if her scope will inevitably narrow, it's wise to start off with a wide breadth of options.
It provides endless entertainment for grandparents My BLW book warns against staring at babies when they're eating, because it may make them self-conscious. This has never been an issue for my little ham. She loves putting on a show. Her Skype production rivals anything on your Netflix streaming queue. Dinner's broadcast is the best. 6:00 nightly.
We got to put off solid food diapers for an extra two months That's when it starts getting more hands-on and stinky. I miss those carefree days of just breast milk poo.
When my pediatrician, Dr. C, talked about introducing cereals at four months, I told him about my BLW plan. I detected a barely suppressed eye roll in his expression. Oh geez, I thought. He probably thinks this is hippie garbage. So when we returned for her six month checkup, I arrived armed with a long long list of foods she'd already tried.
"She's had cucumber, sweet potatoes, avocado, bananas, even a little broccoli."
Dr. C's eyes widened with surprise. "That's great!"
I felt my shoulders relax, but the desire to prove myself remained. "She's had some bread and cheese, but only a little. I know she isn't supposed to have too much sodium."
"The important thing is that she brings the food to her mouth on her own. You'll want to avoid nuts, seeds and saltwater fish in the first year. Otherwise, just make sure the food is finger soft. Oh, and she'll like broccoli better if it's been cooking with meat all day."
"But is it okay to season it like that? What about the sodium?" In hindsight, it seems my voice was so shrill.
He bore a squinty expression, followed by another suppressed eye roll. "Just season it how you would season it for yourself. Her pulmonary system is brand new. She'll be fine."
Duh. Of course she'll be fine, because she eats what I eat and I eat really, really well. I make it a priority. I save money on cloth diapering so I can spend more on fresh, often organic, unprocessed foods. I work at a health food store so I can get a discount on these things. Baby Led Weaning makes sense for us because we already love cooking for ourselves. I can see that it wouldn't be such an enjoyable undertaking in a less food-centric household.
It also wouldn't be much fun if you're repulsed by the constant mess. Again, I must consider my position on the Disgust Scale. Post-meal debris doesn't bother me. I do thorough cleanings at restaurants and other people's houses, but I care less at home. I'm often discovering crusty bits of my daughter's last meal stuck in the corners of her high chair just as I'm getting her ready for the next meal. Between cleaning her hands, face, table top and bibs, I get distracted. Many of her clothes are forever stained with peach nectar and tomato juices. I figure it's okay because she's a baby and her natural good looks tend to draw more attention. Heaven help her if she's destined to be a glamour queen because I am clearly an obstacle in that path. Oh, well. If in twenty years she's still willing to dine with me in public, we'll be alright.
*This is the main reason pediatricians recommend starting a baby on cereal at four months. It isn't because the child requires solid food at that age. It's because a four month old will tolerate spoon feeding, and cereal is the easiest thing for them to digest. In other words, it's for training purposes, not nutrition.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Confessions of a Mildly Detached Mother: Immunizations
In this blog series, I examine the conventions of "attachment" parenting (which I wholeheartedly embraced before my child's birth), and detail how I have fallen short of those ideals. I don't mind being imperfect. If child rearing is a competition, I forfeit.
Immunizations
I thought I was supposed to be vehemently opposed to immunizations. I've known several thoughtful, intelligent, "attached" parents who refused or delayed their kids' vaccinations. And when I first started thinking about this stuff a few years ago, Andrew Wakefield's research connecting autism with vaccines was still relevant.
Since Wakefield's fall from grace, I haven't found much evidence that getting vaccinated is more dangerous than not getting vaccinated. That's not to say I'm especially well read on the subject. Honestly, I've forgotten most of what I have read. My ego wishes this were a more informative post, full of helpful links and specific arguments about each type of vaccine. But that would misrepresent the actual amount of time I spent thinking about this issue.
Here's how the decision went down - When baby was born, we refused the Hepatitis B shot they gave at the hospital because we wanted more time to mull over vaccines. In fact, I purposely avoided selecting a pediatrician in advance because I didn't want anyone pressuring us before we were ready to decide. But we couldn't leave the hospital without a pediatric check-up, so we requested any doctor who happened to be making rounds.
We were told we'd be meeting with Dr. C--. While waiting for him to visit our room, the baby started fussing so I began feeding her. That’s when the doctor arrived. He was nebbish and quite awkward. In a movie about my kid’s birth, he’d be played by Buck Henry. When he saw me, he gasped. "Oh my god, you're nursing!" and scurried away. He returned a half hour later. After examining the baby, he couldn't figure out how to rewrap her diaper. “I’m so sorry!’ he flustered. As is standard procedure, he asked us to bring her by his office for a one-week checkup. I grudgingly agreed. I didn’t want this to be a long-term relationship, but I could deal with one appointment, just to be sure baby was okay.
Fast forward to the one week appointment - Dan and I were sitting in stony silence, waiting for Dr. C. We'd just had our first big parents' fight. I felt cranky and tired. Meeting with Buck Henry guy was the last thing I wanted to do. The door opened, I braced myself, and then a completely different dude walked into the room. He bore the bear-like look and calm, funny demeanor of my cousin J, which is to say that I liked him immediately.
He checked the baby’s vitals and was pleased to see that she'd actually gained on her birth weight. We discussed the Hep B shot we'd skipped at the hospital. He was cool about it, but clearly explained the vaccination schedule he would follow if we were to continue seeing him. I said I needed more time to think it over. I was trying very hard to be politely firm and internally critical of this new doctor. But then he glanced at Dan, who was calming the baby by gently vibrating her in his arms, and said, "Hey. You're a pro." Shucks. What a kind thing to say.
Dan finally asked, "Excuse me, but what is your name?"
"Um... I'm Dr. C--"
"Oh, we thought the man we met in the hospital was Dr. C--," Dan said, offering a description of our nebbish friend.
"That sounds like my colleague, Dr. H--. Hmm, I guess he likes to impersonate me." Dan and I shared a much-needed chuckle. Before leaving the room, the doctor wished us well and said I was welcome to stay and nurse the baby as long as I wanted. He waved a hand toward the window, which faced some autumn gold-drenched trees. "Enjoy the bucolic view," he added, throwing around my favorite adjective like it was nothing.
My ego wishes I could say that I went straight home and immediately began my immunization research. In reality, Dan and I made up, then got Steak 'n' Shake burgers and took the baby to the park. The fact-finding mission actually commenced about two days before she was due for the first round of shots. Still determined to be distrustful, I specifically sought solid, anti-vaccine literature. Unfortunately, most of what I found was anecdotal, tin foil hat-y and terribly written. The best arguments were along the lines of, "I don't know, it sure is creepy how many shots kids get these days...Is this really necessary?...Weird..." I think that's a reasonable sentiment, and I think it's wise to question medical wisdom that so greatly benefits the pharmaceutical industry. (Medicine that is ideally consumed by everyone? What a windfall!) Still, I never came across any specific information that really frightened me. A tiny percentage of patients have suffered horrible side effects, but they seem outnumbered by unvaccinated kids who've contracted serious illnesses.
By that point, we'd already met with Dr. C again at the one month visit. He said so many nice things like, "Hey, girl! I love your name," to the baby, and, "A+ job, you guys," to us. That's also when I noticed his magical ability to hone in on my deepest, unspoken concerns. "Are you worried about not being on a schedule yet? Don't. Right now, it's just about meeting her needs. You can't spoil her. Just get through the days. Now, if by ten weeks you two haven't gone on a date yet, I'm going to start bugging you. By twelve weeks, mom should be starting to get her life back." No schedule okay? Date night? Me have life?! Prior to that moment, I couldn't conceive of any of those things ever being true. And suddenly, there was this huge ass carrot of hope dangling in the distance. I felt so relieved. I hadn't anticipated getting a free therapy session with the purchase of a well visit.
I always knew that if I wanted a pediatrician, I’d have to get my kid vaccinated. Once I realized that we’d lucked into an awesome pediatrician, and that I wasn't really scared of the risks, the vaccine decision was simple. I didn't even bother looking into the delayed schedule option. At the two month appointment, I had some lingering concerns about the rota-virus shot. The doctor allayed those concerns. And that was that. Baby had her first set of immunizations that day. I admit, it was awful. Listening to her scream as I watched the nurse stick her three times, I wondered, "Is this the real reason parents refuse this stuff?" Seemed like a perfectly good reason to me at that moment. But I'd be lying if I didn't also admit to loving those extra long naps that followed.
Please don't read this as a pro-vaccine or anti-anti-immunization screed. I'm not saying that the refusers are wrong. And that's beside the fact that another parent's choice is none of my business. I have just one bit of advice for anyone who is struggling with this decision: don't freak out about it. Whatever you decide, take comfort In the overwhelming odds that your kid will be just fine. Both sides of the argument speak to tiny percentages. You're a new parent. Your challenges are many. Do the tiny percentages really deserve that much of your limited mental power?
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Confessions of a Mildly Detached Mother
In hindsight, I'm ashamed that I spent so much time arming my child and myself against the party hostess's unfiltered judgements. Cloth diaper on baby bottom? Check. Bottle of breast milk (not formula), casually but clearly identified as such? Check. I'd already considered ways I could steer the conversation away from daycare and its inevitable role in our future. Let her tongue click later. I just had to get through this one party.
It was all going so well. She graciously offered to let the baby sleep in any one of their quieter rooms, if I felt comfortable leaving her alone. Certainly, I said. I wasn't one of those parents who had to hover over their kid non-stop. Not like my friend so-and-so with their toddler, I said.
The party hostess's face fell. Obviously, she had hovered over her kids when they were that age. In mocking my friend, I had mocked her, too. And then I just felt like an asshole.
Cursed judgment, it's so contagious. The party hostess tells other parents how they should raise their kids. And when she's not around, those other parents criticize her for homeschooling her brood. It never ends. In my ideal world, everyone stops giving a shit what anyone else thinks and everyone also keeps their mouths shut. But I don't see that happening, especially since I can't even live up to that standard.
Child rearing shouldn't be a competition, but that's how it feels at times. And I've gotta say, the attachment parents are usually the worst. I use "attachment" as a catch-all term for the generally liberal, usually middle class parents who are philosophically dedicated to at least some of the following - natural childbirth, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, organics (food, fabrics, etc.), cloth diapering, cooking their own baby food, delaying or refusing immunizations and never, EVER letting their kid "cry it out". Strict adherence to these methods requires sacrifices of time, money and sleep. And some among us seem to be keeping score. Since my days of working in nonprofits I've never met so many cutthroat martyrs. Who will give the most of themselves purely for the benefit of their child?
Answer - not me. Sure, I share many of the aforementioned values and lifestyle choices. But, my reasons for doing what I do are not always based on what's best for baby. In many ways, I am mildly detached from my child. This is how I keep myself sane. I'm proudly imperfect and in this series of blog posts, I’d like to tell you exactly how ~
Breastfeeding
For the first six months of my baby’s life, I fed her nothing but breast milk. I was able to do this because I am both lucky and privileged.
If:
If:
Breastfeeding is a fantastic experience and I’m truly thrilled if you or your partner are able to do it. But please acknowledge your luck and privilege. And if you must judge parents who feed their babies formula, please use your pre-mouth filter. It’s really none of your business.
So, yeah, I’m a World Health Organization superstar, and I continue to nurse my baby between solid food meals. Bully for me! Alas, I would probably not qualify as a La Leche League superstar, because I do not always feed my baby whenever she wants. If I know she's not needing food and I don’t feel like it, I may find another way to placate her.
And speaking of placating someone when they’re cranky - I broke out my breast pump for the first time back in December and have used it frequently since. Yet, I didn’t go back to work until last month. Why would I bother pumping if I’m gonna be around my baby anyway? So I can have a couple beers and not worry about it getting into her milk. Sometimes mommy needs her bottle, too. This is what I mean about being mildly detached. My life is mostly about her, but I get to enjoy these little patches of pure self interest. I’m able to keep my balance and I think we both fare better in the end.
It was all going so well. She graciously offered to let the baby sleep in any one of their quieter rooms, if I felt comfortable leaving her alone. Certainly, I said. I wasn't one of those parents who had to hover over their kid non-stop. Not like my friend so-and-so with their toddler, I said.
The party hostess's face fell. Obviously, she had hovered over her kids when they were that age. In mocking my friend, I had mocked her, too. And then I just felt like an asshole.
Cursed judgment, it's so contagious. The party hostess tells other parents how they should raise their kids. And when she's not around, those other parents criticize her for homeschooling her brood. It never ends. In my ideal world, everyone stops giving a shit what anyone else thinks and everyone also keeps their mouths shut. But I don't see that happening, especially since I can't even live up to that standard.
Child rearing shouldn't be a competition, but that's how it feels at times. And I've gotta say, the attachment parents are usually the worst. I use "attachment" as a catch-all term for the generally liberal, usually middle class parents who are philosophically dedicated to at least some of the following - natural childbirth, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, organics (food, fabrics, etc.), cloth diapering, cooking their own baby food, delaying or refusing immunizations and never, EVER letting their kid "cry it out". Strict adherence to these methods requires sacrifices of time, money and sleep. And some among us seem to be keeping score. Since my days of working in nonprofits I've never met so many cutthroat martyrs. Who will give the most of themselves purely for the benefit of their child?
Answer - not me. Sure, I share many of the aforementioned values and lifestyle choices. But, my reasons for doing what I do are not always based on what's best for baby. In many ways, I am mildly detached from my child. This is how I keep myself sane. I'm proudly imperfect and in this series of blog posts, I’d like to tell you exactly how ~
Breastfeeding
For the first six months of my baby’s life, I fed her nothing but breast milk. I was able to do this because I am both lucky and privileged.
If:
- Nursing your baby does not cause significant physical pain
- You don't rely on a prescription drug to get through your day-to-day life
- You don’t have any serious issues with the mechanics (latch-on, milk supply, etc.)
If:
- You are able to stay at home with your baby for an extended period of time
- You work for people who are genuinely supportive of your nursing habit
- You own a breast pump
Breastfeeding is a fantastic experience and I’m truly thrilled if you or your partner are able to do it. But please acknowledge your luck and privilege. And if you must judge parents who feed their babies formula, please use your pre-mouth filter. It’s really none of your business.
So, yeah, I’m a World Health Organization superstar, and I continue to nurse my baby between solid food meals. Bully for me! Alas, I would probably not qualify as a La Leche League superstar, because I do not always feed my baby whenever she wants. If I know she's not needing food and I don’t feel like it, I may find another way to placate her.
And speaking of placating someone when they’re cranky - I broke out my breast pump for the first time back in December and have used it frequently since. Yet, I didn’t go back to work until last month. Why would I bother pumping if I’m gonna be around my baby anyway? So I can have a couple beers and not worry about it getting into her milk. Sometimes mommy needs her bottle, too. This is what I mean about being mildly detached. My life is mostly about her, but I get to enjoy these little patches of pure self interest. I’m able to keep my balance and I think we both fare better in the end.
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