This afternoon, Super Girl had an epic tantrum in the checkout line at the craft store. I got to the register and let the checkout girl know I had to put something back while she was ringing up. I then returned every craft SG had picked out. While she kept screaming over and over, "I want it!" with tears running down her face, I explained to her (over and over, it seemed) that the deal was she would get treats if she was good in the store. Throwing a temper tantrum is exactly one of the behaviors I told my girls would forfeit their goodies. 

Just when I was starting to feel like a failure, standing there at the cash register with this two-year old screaming at the top of the lungs, three women came up to me and told me "Good job!" for sticking to my guns and not rewarding bad behavior. Instantly, I felt better. 

It's easy to feel like a meanie or a bad mom when your kid melts down in public. The things is, though, eventually every kid will melt down [first person to tell me her kid has never melted down gets punched in the face]. And, though I might feel mean in the minute, rewarding my (then-)behaved child with crafts while the other looks on on jealousy, I just have to keep reminding myself that my "meanness" is toward a greater good—raising a child/tween/teen/adult who is not an ungrateful, spoiled asshole. 

I am so thankful for those ladies today who gave me reinforcement and reminded me that I was doing the right thing. And it also served as a good reminder to me that the next time I see a mom struggling but doing the right thing, to pay it forward by patting her on the back—whether I do that literally (as the first "Good job, Mom!" woman did to me today) or verbally. Because sometimes all you need is validation. 

Gee... Who woulda thought that this kid would act out? /s/

Today one of the pages I follow posted an article from the Huffington Post entitled "10 Uncomfortable Confessions From an Imperfect Mom." One of the confessions, which the page featured, was, "I know that every time I feel defensive or judgmental about someone else's parenting choices, it's because I am less than confident about my own." Commenters were asked to agree or disagree. While there were other confessions that resonated with me almost to an eerie level of discomfort, this one did not. 

At the end of June, Little Diva ("LD") had her first ballet recital. It happened to fall on a Friday. I am still in the "probation" period of my new job, which means I have not yet accrued any vacation days, and the dress rehearsal/recital did not fall on my Friday-off schedule, so Nonna had to take LD to the Friday morning dress rehearsal. During lunch, my mom called to give me a status report. I happened to be in a van with co-workers at the time. They ended up highly amused by my end of the conversation, which sounded a bit like this:

I'm so glad it went well. Did you take pictures? ... Okay ... Okay ... That's not a big deal... You said what?... Why?? Why the hell would you say that to a four-year old??
... No. No. That's not okay. Not at all. ... She was already nervous, and now you made it worse. ... Who cares?? ... They're four! They look cute! No matter what they do — even if they do nothing at all everyone's going to clap. Because they're four. ... Okay ... Whatever ... Yeah, I'm going back to the office now. I'll talk to you later.

When I hung up, my co-workers started laughing and then guessed what had probably happened, but they were all just as livid as me when I filled in the exact details of what happened, which was pretty close to what they had all guessed, but the actual delivery was worse than what they had imagined.

If you haven't figured out from my end generally what happened, my mom went all Toddlers in Tiaras on LD about her performance at the dress rehearsal. And what my mom actually said to my daughter was something like, "[LD], you did okay. You looked cute. But you need to remember tonight that this is the real thing. And you need to make sure you're getting all of your dance moves perfectly, because everyone is watching you, and you can't mess up." My mom also added something to the effect that Pop Culture Dad and I would be watching, and she didn't want to disappoint us, now did she?

Rage.

I got back to my office and texted three friends with whom I'd already had a group text going. One of these friends (hereinafter, "Twin Mom") is a mother (she has two twins a year younger than LD). The other two do not have children, although one is very close to her niece. Twin Mom (who has known both Nonna and me for over 20 years) immediately understood what's wrong. The friend with the niece didn't really opine on my mom's actions, but agreed with me that people would love the four-year olds no matter what, because the recital costume picture I had posted to Facebook was adorable, and who couldn't possibly love that? The third friend thought first friend and I were totally overreacting, because four-year olds should understand the difference between dress rehearsal and the real thing, and what's the point in putting them in dance if they aren't going to do it right? And that's why she's strongly against kids doing dance or there being recitals anyway, because dance should be an art, not a hobby. The conversation went round and round, and I'll spare you the details save to say that the two moms on the chat weren't buying for a minute the fact that children should only be allowed to participate in activities if they're going to do it to the level of craft/art rather than hobby.

I've thought about that conversation a lot, and not only have I not wavered, but I actually feel even more strongly about the United Mom Position now.

Kids need hobbies. They are little bundles of energy, and that needs to get out (preferably not all over your living room). Also, these early years are the perfect time to find out where your kids' interests lie and for what things they have natural affinities (or things that are just never going to work no matter how hard they try). Yes, at some point, you're going to stop letting your kid change up hobbies or interests every season, because how could they ever get good at something if s/he doesn't continue? But that age is not four. Hell, kids are just barely getting coordinated to do things at three and four, which is why you most programs won't even let them enroll in certain sports or dance before that age.

Twin Mom agrees with me. Her husband is a soccer coach. She has expressed how nothing is more frustrating to him than when parents come in and expect him to make their three- or four-year old Pele or David Beckham. I mean, yes, if your kid has a natural ability, that is something a coach should hone. But at three or four (or heck, eight), you should not be beating your kids over the head with perfection. That's just... Ugh... I'm sad now....

Third friend also expressed how much she hated dance recitals for four-year olds, saying that they were only for the parents. At the time, I agreed with her, but qualified my agreement with the fact that I honestly didn't have a problem with that. And after actually going to the recital and thinking about it more, not only do I still feel strongly about my position, but I think it extends to recitals regardless of the child's age. All recitals for all ages are for the parents and their friends. Recitals are not the same thing as competition or professional performances, and it is absolutely ridiculous to expect that they should be. Recitals are there for the parents, other family members, and friends to see what your child has learned all season [and to justify the amount of money you have spent and continue to spend]. They are there to entertain you. They are not there to get your child a scholarship to Juilliard. Sitting there at my daughter's recital, I watched the girls who I know do teach some of the younger classes and who participate in competitive dance [which, by the way, children are not even allowed to enter until they are eight years old]. They were, of course, good. But they weren't perfect that night either. They probably are more on-point (and en pointe) for competition, but they weren't there to compete. They were there to make their family and friends proud. The recital began with father-daughter and mother-daughter group dances. Do you really think the parents were displaying perfection with their four hours total of prep time? C'mon now. This is not what recitals are about. And, quite frankly, I kind of resent the idea of holding something that is supposed to be a fun, family event to a standard of rigidity you would find in competition.

In case anyone was wondering, Little Diva was not perfect that night. In fact, I would venture to say that not a single one of the girls in the seven Three-/Four-Year Old Combo Dance class performances was. No one cared. Throughout every performance, you could hear the audience cooing, laughing, and enjoying every minute.

Take a look at this kid. Would anyone dare be disappointed with anything she could do in this outfit?

Hey you over there with they keyboard! Yeah you—the one on the message board or blog implying that everyone who doesn't parent exactly like you doesn't love their children enough, is psychologically damaging their child, and/or is completely destroying their children's chances of being normal, happy, functioning adults [oh, but you said you don't think those ladies are bad parents, so it's all good, amirite?]. Yeah, I've got a message for you.

Dear Judgy McJudgerson,

Amazing how you think you know on such bold and sweeping, blanket terms what is best for EVERY child. I'm sure your vast experience in raising [one child] / [three children] / [20 children Duggar style] to the ripe old age of [two months] / [11 years] / [42], combined with the books and blogs you faithfully read, has completely qualified you to determine what will and will not make for a productive, functioning adult. Can I borrow that time machine when you're done?

I have two children who cannot be parented the same way by the same parents because they are so different; yet you, perfect stranger who we have never met and will never meet, knows exactly what works and doesn't work for my children. Why haven't you written your book yet? It's sure to be a bestseller. After all, why do we need so many parenting books out there when your one philosophy on parenting will surely answer every question any of us have ever had?

Before I swallow what you're selling hook, line and sinker, I just want to make sure your parenting techniques will actually work for my children. I know you think all children can be molded the same, which is why your one philosophy applies to all children equally, but I really want to know how this is going to work. So let's just start with Little Diva for example.

Even though I know [you don't believe in any type of punishment, because that will psychologically damage my child]/[only believe in spanking, because anything else will spoil my child], what does Little Diva consider the single worst punishment for her—the one that relates to her individual personality, motivations and triggers? What are the three most effective rewards to offer her?

I know you already have your own very strict beliefs about diet or television or cartwheels, but—assuming this question is even acceptable within your parenting philosophy—given a choice between extra dessert or an extra hour to stay awake and watch TV, which would she choose?

What are her fears?

What are her favorite movies?

How does she typically react in a social situation with people she's never met?

How does she feel about spiders?

What would her reaction be on a 4' high beam? In a pool of water?

Who are her favorite non-fictional people excluding immediate family? [you know, when she isn't hating us for not following your soon-to-be-patented parenting technique]

What is her least favorite word?

Does she like tomatoes?

What? You don't know? But you're sure your one-size fits all philosophy works? Based on what exactly? Oh... Those books and blogs you read? Have you met the author... and his/her children? You haven't.... So why do you assume their way to raise children was even effective for their kids, let alone yours or mine? Because the author's suggested parenting techniques fits your own personal style, instinct, preference and philosophy? That's funny. I was acting on my own instincts, style, preference and philosophy too… and you implied that it made me a bad mother.

Until you can answer those questions with respect to my child---both of my children—you don't know them. You don't know their ticks or triggers. Unless you can answer similar questions about me or my husband, you don't know anything about our family structure.

So don't purport to assume you know how to raise my kids.

Most sincerely (oh boy, am I sincere),
Pop Culture Mom

Of course, the One True Way Moms will never read my letter. They're too busy telling perfect strangers online what's wrong with how they live.

Look, I know that people judge each other's parenting choices, just like we judge everything else. When I see things I don't like or understand, heck yeah, I judge. I may even rant to my friends about it or write on Facebook, maybe even post a blog. But there's a difference between judging something that is different from you and trying to dictate how others live. Moreover, I think most of us who silently judge are fully capable of admitting that while we prefer our own way, that doesn't make any different way inherently bad.

If you can't understand the simple concept of how we are all made different, which is why different things motivate and appeal to us, try thinking of individual parenting choices as other choices. I am a cat person. Dogs are okay. I've had plenty of them, but I'm not really that into them. I have some friends who can't stand cats. Me constantly mentioning my love of cats isn't going to change the anti-cat person into a cat person, and them countering back to me with the merits of dog love isn't going to persuade me either. Now let's suppose we have a friend who wants a pet, but doesn't know what to get. Of course we are going to both try to persuade her why our pet preference is best. In the end, though, that neutral friend is probably going to pick the pet that fits best within her personality and lifestyle. If she's a dog person, my cat argument may have sounded appealing... until she found an alternative that was more "her." I can't get mad at her for that. I can't call her and the other dog lover horrible people or irresponsible pet owners simply because having a cat wasn't for them. I mean, I could; but if I did, they would probably be well within their right for hating me and my insistent one-true-wayism.

I'm not that gal, though. I might question why anyone would ever prefer a dog. I might even think they're crazy for it. But at the end of the day, I will always acknowledge that while a cat is right for me, it isn't for everyone, and I shouldn't give a flying flip about what someone else does in her own household unless it directly or indirectly affects me. I also don't need to justify my choice of cat to anyone. And if I had a fellow cat-loving friend who was One-True Way about her cat love and who refused to respect anyone who owned a dog, I couldn't be friends with her. I am not in the habit of maintaining friendships with people who can only respect me when I am exactly like them. Heaven forbid I want to have my own opinions one day!

I know some of you think this is a ridiculous example, because cats and dogs don't really affect society, but how someone raises their kid does. But not really. Yes, there are some universal bads that have a long-term effect on society. People who choose to allow their kids to be obese are affecting health care costs, but someone who occasionally lets her kid have junk food that you don't allow in your house at all probably is not. People who are sexually or physically abusing their kids are probably affecting the society around you, but people who are spanking their kids or strict Positive Parenting advocates most likely are not. People who raise their kids religiously or who raise their kids atheist are likely not affecting you, but people who are raising their kids to hate and even engage in physical violence towards people of a different race, religion or sexual orientation, probably are.

We all want society to be better. We all want our kids to be nearly perfect (whatever our version of "perfect" is). However, there are only a few examples of truly universally bad parenting. The rest is all shades of gray. So tend your own garden before you go pointing out the dandelions in someone else's.

Post Note: After this was published, someone asked me if I'm not doing the same thing I'm accusing others of doing—judging someone's parenting style. I think it's a valid question. Here is my answer: In the same way people who are intolerant of bigotry, sexism, homophobia, etc. aren't "intolerant" on the same level as the bigots/sexists/homophobes [e.g., hating Westborough Baptist doesn't make you a hypocritical hater], I'm not casting judgment in the same manner as the one-true way parent. I don't care how someone parents. I really don't. Even if I don't like someone's parenting style, unless it falls within the rare exception of a Universal Bad warranting a call to CPS, it isn't my business. That was the whole point of this post. It's none of our business when people employ parenting methods that are different from our own. Most of those people know nothing about your kids and what makes them tick, so they have no business publicly passing judgment on your parenting style. And, quite frankly, they also lack the qualifications. So, no, I'm not trying to say "Hey, I bash the One-True Way Moms who parent differently from me." Heck, I feel the same whether it's someone with a vastly different parenting style or someone with whom I generally agree [I cringe watching another lactivist attack moms who use formula. Killing the cause, deary. Killing. The. Cause]. I'm just saying, until you've walked several hundred miles in another mom's pumps until you made it all the way home, don't go around telling her that she's not walking the right way. That's all.

In honor of the fact that I recently called and made the appointment with our pediatrician's office to have Pop Culture Baby(2)'s ears pierced with her first-year well-baby checkup, I am re-sharing (with minor edits) my blog posts about our experience the first time around. These originally appeared on WTE back in my former life as a Featured Blogger on that site. Enjoy the trip down memory lane!

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February 27, 2009
Infant Ear Piercing – A Cultural Issue?

I had never considered infant ear piercing a hot topic until I joined the What to Expect boards. I always considered infant ear piercing second nature. I had my ears pierced when I was only a few months old. Every girl in my family had her ears pierced as an infant. All of my friends with girls clearly have no problem with infant ear piercing, because all of their daughters had their ears pierced as babies.
But when I was pregnant, I joined these boards and witnessed moms-to-be (and at least one dad) arguing with each other over the issue of infant ear piercing. I began to wonder, Am I missing something? I mean, why was everyone so passionate about such a non-issue?

Slowly, I began to notice a pattern. The people who were so dead-set against infant ear piercing were largely (though certainly not exclusively) Caucasian, Christian and American (hereinafter, “CCA," solely for the purpose of abbreviation, and not for any other reason). Ear piercing by many of these women was couched in terms of a “bonding experience” or something you do when your daughter “asks for it.” Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but I’ve never seen ear piercing as something to bond over. I’ve gone with my older sister when she got her ears pierced (a re-piercing), my mom when she got hers done (a second hole), and even my dad when he got his done (suspected mid-life crisis), but never did it seem like something you bond over. I just didn’t get what the big deal was. And as far as asking, I grew up with the mentality that kids don’t get things just because they asked for it, nor do they get to opt out of things simply because they don’t [dinnertime would have been really different growing up if I could have just opted out of things]. I’m not questioning people who think that way – far from it – I’m just saying there’s a different cultural perspective on it.

Most of the parents I know who don’t think infant ear piercing is a big deal are not CCA – we’re each missing at least one part of the acronym. Yes, I have friends who are CCA who don’t consider it a big deal, but they seem to be small in number. Pop Culture Dad is CCA (kind of), and he was at first against getting Pop Culture Baby(1)’s ears pierced just because he had “never heard of it.” After taking a survey of my family and our friends and co-workers who, like me, are not CCA, he began to understand that a lot of people don’t think infant ear piercing is a big deal. He, too, concluded it must be a cultural thing; and since our daughter is a reflection of her mixed backgrounds, he is now on board with piercing her ears.

When we get Pop Culture Baby(1)'s ears pierced, my husband is going to go with us. It won’t be a bonding experience, but we both want to be there with her to hold her little hands. We would have gotten it done already, but Pop Culture Baby(1) has this bad habit of pulling her ears. My hubby and I have agreed that when she stops doing that, we will pierce her ears.

To each his/her own. If you don’t like the idea of infant ear piercing, don’t do it. But don’t tell me or anyone else something’s wrong with our families because we do. Like many traditions, this seems to be an issue that varies among families and perhaps even cultures. So embrace your own traditions, and don’t stress about what goes on with other’s.


Pop Culture Mom After-Notes:
When this piece was originally written, it became one of my most talked about and controversial postings. Apparently, just mentioning something about which people have such widely varying (and strong!) opinions gives them a desire to talk (passionately) about those varying opinions. Honestly, only half the mothers who expressed opinions on this piece addressed my initial inquiry about whether or not the opinions were the result of cultural differences. From a survey of those comments, it seems I missed one part of the equation: for those moms in the CCA category who have no problem with earrings on infants, they were largely from the South (as I am). Of course, I will always acknowledge that the are exceptions to every rule, and my pondering was not meant to create some sort of stereotype.

As far as rehashing the issue, I am honestly not interested at this time. Thankfully, the hundreds of heated comments on this piece got buried when WTE moved to a new blog platform (they're still there, but you would have to do some crazy detective work to weed through and find them, and, trust me, it is not worth your time). I don't personally care why people pierce or don't pierce. We did it, we're doing it again; and quite frankly I don't care if some person off the street (or even some "friend" or relative) wants to judge me for it.

If you do, for whatever reason, want to discuss infant ear piercing, cultural aspects or otherwise, feel free to do so in the comments here. But heed some warnings: I am a member of The Mom Pledge. Put in simple terms: I do not feed the trolls. I will not tolerate name-calling, bashing, or inflammatory statements. If you want to call me or a fellow commenter names or question anyone's parenting skills/sanity/etc., take it to another site. If you want to compare earrings to female genital mutilation (seriously) or even circumcision (both permanent and irreversible decisions), take the hyperbole somewhere else, as that kind of gross and inflammatory exaggeration always leads to unproductive arguments. If you want to discuss your views intelligently and passionately (preferably with facts, whether cited or reasonably anecdotal), you are more than welcome here, whatever your views.

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June 11, 2009
Infant Ear Piercing is Done

I know that infant ear piercing can be a controversial subject, as evidenced by the debate in my earlier blog wondering if people's feelings about infant ear piercing are based on cultural perceptions. Whether it's a cultural issue or not, one thing I do know is that we have done it.

At the end of last month, we had Pop Culture Baby(1)'s ears pierced. The piercing was done at her pediatrician's office, along with her six-month shots. It was a pretty nice setup, actually. We checked in, and Pop Culture Baby(1) was given these little pads with numbing gel on them. The numbing gel stayed on her ears for an hour (this was actually the worst part of the entire experience). While the numbing gel did its business, Pop Culture Baby(1) got her shots. Our regular pediatrician did her normal checkup and answered my questions. Then, when the normal appointment was over, we walked to the waiting room of another doctor in our pediatrician's practice. She is the doctor who does all the ear piercings in the practice.

While we waited for the doctor, I read a book to Pop Culture Baby(1). Pop Culture Baby(1) got really into the book, so when the doctor showed up, she suggested that our au pair (who came with me) hold the book up for Pop Culture Baby(1) in order to distract her. As the doctor was getting ready to put the earrings in, my very nervous husband called because he had expected to hear from us already [we spent a LOT of time waiting]. When he heard the doctor's voice and realized she was about to do the piercing, he nervously hung up, because he was afraid to listen. He was worried for nothing, because Pop Culture Baby(1) did not even cry. She made a muffled "hmmph" sound after each one was done, but that was it.

It's been a couple of weeks now, and her ears are doing well (they have been from day one). Pop Culture Baby(1) has actually stopped pulling on her ears since she's had the earrings. Now, she pulls on her neck instead. They look really cute on her, but I can't wait until the two months are over so I can get her different earrings. The doctor gave her gold earrings, since those are the most hypoallergenic. When she is allowed to have different earrings, I'm getting her platinum, since I hate yellow gold. We also have a pair of infant pearl earrings that I bought right before we got married (long story), which I will let her wear someday, but not just yet.

Whatever people's feelings about infant ear piercing, I am happy with our decision. I have no regrets that my parents got mine pierced when I was an infant, and I am actually glad that it was done so young when I don't remember it. Everyone I know who had their ears pierced as an infant feels the same way. I'm not saying that means that's how everyone should do it. I'm just saying, this is what works for us.

And, p.s., Pop Culture Baby(1) looks soooo cute!


In the waiting room with the numbing gel on.


"Reading" a book while we wait.


Showing off the new lobes.


So nice to put her in all blue and not get asked, "How old is HE?"

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

No matter how old I get, I will never understand why the same people who applaud you when pregnant for your decision to nurse ("That's great! It is what is best for the baby after all!") always seem surprised, perplexed, and sometimes a little disturbed when you are nursing past the six-month mark. I am, of course, referring to relatives, childless friends, and other mommy friends who either never nursed or never did it very long ("very long" being a few months). This clearly does not apply to online mommy friends, because, as anyone who has spent any time on mommy message boards knows, the vibe there is generally pro-boobs. The real world needs to get on par with the cyber world.

I am tired of sounding like a broken record:
–"Actually, the World Health Organization and the American Academy of Pediatrics both recommend breastfeeding for a bare minimum of six months and even for two years or more."
–"Well, I nursed my oldest daughter until she was 22 months old, so, you see, no, I don't think nine months is too long."
– "Yes, she has teeth. She has had teeth since she was four months old. A baby having teeth is a stupid weaning standard."
–"What do you mean, you should stop nursing when a baby can ask for it? She learned to pull at my shirt when she was a couple of weeks old. Isn't that technically asking? My oldest could sign for milk at four months. If I had a child who was deaf/mute, then you would be okay if I nursed him/her until she was 30, since s/he could never talk and ask for milk? Oh. No? So just a double standard then for what you consider 'asking'?"

Can we talk about the teeth thing for a minute?

Why am I constantly running into moms who practically brag to me about how they stopped nursing as soon as their baby cut a tooth? Do they think I'm sitting there nodding in understanding as I nurse my little piranha-in-training? Every single time someone tells me this, it is a woman whose baby has barely a tooth poking through. Pop Culture Baby has seven (vey sharp and strong) teeth, and we are still nursing. Clearly, I am the wrong audience for empathy. Yes, getting bit sucks. But the presence of teeth is not the standard for weaning. You will not find a single medical journal that says this. Many babies have teeth as early as four months. A few babies are even born with teeth. You can always teach a breastfeeding child not to bite, and once they get used to those new teeth, they generally don't bite anyway [except those circumstances where your baby thinks s/he is being funny and bites you on purpose... But I digress]. Even ignoring all that, if someone wants to justify to herself that weaning was appropriate because her child has teeth, then that's her business; but for the love of Pete, women!! Please stop bragging to me about it! I don't feel the bonds of sisterhood or empathy/sympathy over these revelations. I just feel sad. Please save these conversations for a different audience—perhaps that lady over there in a corner nodding and mouthing "Me too."

Also, when did formula become the norm? No, really. I get that using formula in the 1970s was that decade's equivalent of the '60s bra burning. Women had the freedom to work and weren't "chained" to their babies all day. But formula has never been and never will be breast milk. And times have a'changed. Breast pumps are readily accessible and affordable these days, and that is a huge part of why breastfeeding has made a resurgence of sorts. But most importantly, the science just keeps coming out in favor of breastfeeding. Formula, no matter what they add to it, will never compete. Ever. I totally get circumstances in which the health risks to mother outweigh the benefits of breastmilk to babies [lactivist though I am, I would much rather a bipolar or schizophrenic mom be on her meds; same for mothers with certain bone, heart or neurological diseases]. I also understand that some women don't produce enough milk or any at all [though it appears that number is certainly much smaller than the number of women who claim they can't—some of whom give up at the colostrum stage or without trying things to boost their milk like eating oatmeal, taking supplements, drinking a lot of water, pumping more often, etc.]. And while the AAP argues:

Breastfeeding and human milk are the normative standards for infant feeding and nutrition. Given the documented short- and long-term medical and neurodevelopmental advantages of breastfeeding, infant nutrition should be considered a public health issue and not only a lifestyle choice.

(emphasis added), I will grant you that for many people, the decision to use formula is a lifestyle choice. Whatever.

The bottom line is, I am doing what is healthy and recommended. Breastfeeding my now-10 month old child is not an unusual thing, nor should it be. This is the default. The medical community backs me up. If I am able to breastfeeding into the next year, you are darn tooting' that I will. By asking me, "OMG, are you still nursing??" with that inflection in your voice and look of disapproval, you are not shaming me. You are only making yourself look and sound foolish.

/rant




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Did you see those last few posts and wonder what the heck I was doing with all the one-liners? Justifying my parenting decisions the only way I should ever have to.

Forget the stupid Times Magazine cover. Forget what some know-it-all with a different parenting style from yours told you that you "have" to do in order to be a good parent.

There are a million ways to parent, and only a few of them are truly bad. Unless you fall into one of those truly bad (abuse or neglect) categories, you don't owe explanations to anyone.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Because I want to and I can.

Because it's what's best for babies in general and my family in particular, because I can, and because I want to.

Because we're comfortable with it.

Because we love it.

(note: this is not an accurate representation of how we actually co-sleep)

Because I like them.

I know, I know. You’ve read the title, and you’re already ready to rip me a new one. But hear me out.
I know your child is loved. I know your child is special. But what I also know, is that this love and feeling of specialness does not extend beyond your inner circle. The same is true of my child.

I attended a seminar this week about generation differences. The speaker pointed out that Generation Y (ages 13 – 30 generally) is more of the “entitled” generation, because their parents spent their lives telling them that they were special “and they believed it.” Parents have taken away the work experiences – there are no paper routes, no lemonade stands, no one mowing the lawns, these kids were too busy with extra curricular activities to babysit. So these children, now some adults, don’t even learn to grow up until they show up on the job, and they need their bosses to teach them what in the past parents did. The speaker told the Baby Boomers to blame themselves for this; so the next time they’re complaining about the know-nothing “kid” straight out of law school, they need to remember that they created these monsters. I completely agree.
I don’t know what the mark of Generation Z will be, but I have a pretty good idea. As “special” as the Baby Boomers told Generation Y they were, many of us Generation Xers are guilty of being even more over the top. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but I want to break the mold. Yes, I want my child to understand that she is special—to me, to Pop Culture Dad, to her grandparents, aunts and uncles, and to my friends. But is she special to the rest of the world? No. Should she be special to the rest of the world? Not automatically. Specialness is something that’s earned not given. You don’t earn the title of being “special” simply for doing the things you should do (“Oh! You showed up on time and did your work? How wonderful!!” Uh… no); you are special for being extraordinary. And if you aren’t making the effort or going that extra mile to stand out from the rest of the world, then you need to drop the expectation that the rest of the world will find you as special and wonderful and your family and close friends. And we, as parents, need to stop giving our children these unrealistic expectations and then thrusting these self-entitled brats with me-me-me attitudes on the rest of the world.

I have witnessed far too many kids and adults who walk around with an air of entitlement, because they have been told all their life that they are special and wonderful, and this statement was never qualified. Somehow, these “special” adults have gone throughout life without having the idea challenged – at least, they haven’t recognized that the idea was challenged. These are the people who think that if they don’t get something they want, either it was stolen from them or some sort of unfairness is at play. I don’t dispute that things can be “stolen” or that there is unfairness in the world (a lot of unfairness), but there are many people who think that every time something doesn’t go their way, there must have been foul play. Sorry to break it to you, but the culprit isn’t the world, it’s your ego. Somewhere along the way, someone should have told you (him, her, whoever), that you are not that special – to anyone except your family and your/their friends.

It starts with children. We tell our children from the very beginning that they can do no wrong. Everything they do is perfect and wonderful. There is no problem with this. The problem comes in when we don’t let our children know that while we may hold this opinion, as do Nana and Papa, Auntie Whoever, and Mommy’s best friend, that random person you meet along the way – that person who may at some point hold your academic or professional fate in their hands – does not feel that way. I have heard various stories where someone’s child doesn’t get an award or doesn’t get into their first-choice school, and this person’s immediate assumption – without any hard core proof is “Well, the person who got my child’s spot got it because s/he is a minority/woman/bribed someone.” This parent is part of the problem. Sorry, but the world doesn’t work to conspire against one person. Sometimes – and I know this is a tough pill to swallow – we don’t get things in life, because we just aren’t good enough or special enough.

“But, but, but. My child had a 3.9 and scored a 1580 on the SATs and took piano!”. So did thousands of other children. And, quite honestly, place yourself in the shoes of a college application review board. If you see 15,000 applications from absolutely identical applicants, and you only have 1,000 spots, are any of these children special to you, regardless of how special they are to their parents, grandparents, cousins, etc.? Of course not. But you know who may seem more special than your child? The kid with the 3.6 and 1400 on the SATs, who played a sport and volunteered in her community, who also didn’t have the funds to take the same Princeton Review that 13,000 of the 15,000 identical applicants took. Yes, you may think your child looks better on paper, but you’d likely be wrong. In any event, the specialness that you personally attribute to your offspring is not passed on to a college application review board, a boss, or anyone else in the world. Again, if one wants to be special to others, one must in fact be special.

I know there are some parents who disagree. There are parents who think that I am damaging my child’s psyche by not letting her make every single decision or sharing in the fantasy (nay, fallacy) that she is special to everyone in the world because she is to me. I don’t care. I want my children to be those kids who have learned a work ethic, who have learned how to earn respect rather than just expecting it. I want them to grow up learning over the years how to be responsible adults rather than learning it on the job at age 25. If people don’t agree, then fine. Raise your kids however you want. But for me, I don’t plan on being that parent 25 years from now lamenting over the fact that my child is bouncing from job to job because her “boss doesn’t get her” or “she doesn’t feel fulfilled” after only being there one month.

Today I was in the cafe at Target getting nachos and an Icee [I'm 21 weeks pregnant. Don't judge!] when a little girl around the age of 5 or 6 got in line behind me. She got a little impatient while the cashier was making my nachos, so she started standing and sort of bouncing on the flimsy chips display case in front of us.

I am always careful with what I say to strangers' kids, because the last thing I want is to give some random nutjob a reason to go off on me. This time, I decided to let it go with a simple "Ooh, sweetie. Don't stand on that. You don't want it to fall under you." She got down, and no one confronted me. Two crises averted.

While I was grabbing napkins, the little girl ran past me and went running through the aisles of Target. That was the first time it occurred to me - Where is her mother?. My internal question was soon answered when the little girl darted into the Starbucks inside the store. However, this revelation did nothing to soothe me.

There are no parts of the cafe visible from the Starbucks and vice versa. In the same amount of time it took me to warn the little girl about standing on the chips display case, she could have been snatched. If I hadn't said anything, there was a possibility this little girl could have fallen and gotten injured. The little girl could have even decided that, instead of buying chips, she wanted to exit the store completely and cross the parking lot (The exit is also not visible from the internal Starbucks). All of these things - bad things - could and have happened, all without the mom knowing until it is too late.

Maybe I'm just paranoid. I have read too many stories about children being abducted from toy aisles while their parents shopped elsewhere in the same store. I've heard too many stories of children being snatched or running away into peril when their parents looked away for just a minute. I have watched too many episodes of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. Thirty years ago, one of my cousin's 15-year old best friend was abducted, raped and murdered on her way walking to meet her little sister and me at our pre-K and walk us home [in another dangerous situation, after waiting an hour without someone meeting us, the sister and I - both four at the time - walked home two miles by ourselves]. So, yes, I may be a little over-paranoid about letting my five year old stroll the aisles of a large store by herself. And I'm okay with that.

I'm not saying parents should watch their children with the almost obsessive-compulsive hawkishness that I can exhibit from time to time. But I do think that parents should keep their guards up even when in their own neighborhood. I'm sure the mom thought her child would be fine going to get chips on her own, because she was in a store in our neighborhood, and our neighborhood is safe. And, yes, this little girl was fine, so it was not an unreasonable assumption to make. However, our neighborhood is not a utopia. Many kids are abducted from or severely - even fatally - injured in their own front yards. I think kids should be able to play and have fun. However, I know that for myself, I don't ever want to be in a position where if, goodness forbid, something happens to my child, I am forever plagued with the thought of "If only I had kept an eye on her."

So, for me, I'm going to continue to let my child be a child — but within my eyesight and earshot. How about the rest of you? Am I being paranoid, or has the state of the world the last few years caused you to be overly cautious also?

posted via iPhone

Back in the late-80s through early-90s, I was a scrawny little, nerdy thing with braces and glasses. I had always been this way, but there was something about middle school and high school that made other children notice my puny geekiness even more. I was teased, called names, and even had a girl or two threaten to fight me for daring to say that someone who verbally harassed me was a "bitch." Sure, I was bullied, though not to the extent that kids today are. And I am also ashamed to admit that I am pretty sure (thought I can't remember), there was probably a kid or two who I gave as good as I was getting [though I doubt I ever threatened to fight anyone -- when you weigh 70 or 80 pounds, it's just not a smart thing to do...]. At some point by the end of high school, no one really seemed to care that I was 90 pounds at 5'7" [with the exception of (1) this overweight girl who used to call me Olive Oyl every day; and (2) my friends who would get visibly upset watching me scarf down enough lunch for two people without putting on a single pound, while it was all they could do to keep their weight in check], a complete drama geek, and vice president of our chapter of the National Honor Society. Nor did anyone care that I didn't have a cool bone in my body. By college and law school, I was actually (gasp!) one of the popular gals. With all those traumatic years of middle school and the beginning of high school far, far behind me, I thought I had long left the days of bullies. Boy was I ever wrong.

So around the same time I was happily weeping at Natalie Portman's Oscar speech and her beautiful declaration that motherhood would be her most important role, some self-proclaimed feminists were lambasting her for that same statement. For shame!

First, let me say that I consider myself (among other things) a feminist. I firmly believe women can and should do virtually anything a man can. I support women's rights and women's causes. I'm a full-time career woman, and I feel no shame about that fact. That being said, I have a real problem with the turn the feminist movement seems to have taken in the last decade. At the heart of the feminist ideal is that a woman can be anything she wants to be. If a woman wants to be a CEO of a Fortune 500 company, she should have that right. If a woman wants to be a stay-at-home mom, that too is her right. Women should define for themselves what they want to be; and that role — what each woman considers important for herself — should not be defined by others. After all, what is the difference between a man dictating that a woman cannot have a certain occupation and another woman saying that a woman must have some occupation other than wife/mother or that if she has another occupation, she cannot still consider her role as mother the most important thing she has ever done in her life?

Part of the reason I found Natalie Portman's speech so beautiful is because she is such an accomplished woman. Seeing a Harvard graduate/activist/accomplished actress receiving an award considered one of the highest in her field state that motherhood would be the most important thing she has ever done absolutely moved me. I found it to be one of the most touching statements regarding motherhood I could imagine.

I graduated at the top of my class in high school, went on to graduate college summa cum laude after only three years, went to an Ivy League law school, and now I work for a large, national law firm. These accomplishments are great, indeed. But my crowning achievement spent part her day sitting at her art table, coloring and watching Dora the Explorer. My boss, too, is a very accomplished woman — certainly moreso than me — and she, too, has published biographies attached to presentations she has given to other professionals listing out every single one of these accomplishments, but stating that her greatest two accomplishments are her children. There is nothing wrong with thinking this way. We decide for ourselves what is important in our lives, and we are two women who prioritize our family, more specifically our children, above everything else.

Some of these so-called feminists who slammed Natalie Portman's speech argued that you would never see a professional man, let alone a male actor make such a proclamation. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. I count my husband as one of many professional men who will answer in a heartbeat that the most important thing he's ever done is fatherhood. Some of my coworkers — male partners at a major law firm — likewise make the claim that nothing they have ever done rises to the level of being a dad. Many of my friends' husbands [including BostonsMama, who herself has written with sadness about the ugly turn the feminist movement seems to be taken], have made similar statements. One very famous actor/producer/former-model and rapper (and my secret boyfriend) has claimed that his most important role was being a dad, and if he fails at fatherhood, he "fail[s] at everything."

Real feminists recognize that there's more value in celebrating men like Mark Wahlberg and my husband, who relish their roles as father and set good examples for their sons and daughters, than there is in ripping apart women like Natalie Portman and myself. Real feminists recognize that a woman's hierarchy of what's important in her life is personal to her and her alone.

For more feminists supporting each woman's right to be an individual, check out these amazing posts by my gal pals Enyo, Suzanne, [[more to come; come back later to check]]

The other day, some girlfriends and I were discussing the gender reveal – do you or don’t you? Suzi and Brittney are very much in favor of finding out their babies’ genders when given the opportunity. Amanda loves the surprise and has even blogged about it twice. Kat also loves a surprise. Personally, I’m on the fence about whether I prefer being surprised myself or simply surprising everyone else. In any event, when I’m pregnant, don’t bother asking me my baby’s gender. Either I won’t have found out or I won’t be revealing. You can wait until my child is born to find out if I had a boy or a girl. But be forewarned: if you harass me too much about knowing the gender, you may not be around in my life long enough to find out.

When I was pregnant with Pop Culture Toddler, my pregnancy expecting board had three different color groups of expecting parents: Team Pink, Team Blue, and Team Green. Team Pink consisted of those parents who were having a girl, Team Blue a boy, and Team Green those who wanted to keep the baby’s gender a surprise. At some point, however, I added a subset to Team Green – Team Noneya.

“Noneya” is a term one of my former secretaries used whenever she scanned or created personal documents for herself or for me. The first time she did it, I was really confused. When I asked her “Why ‘noneya’?” she said, “So if anyone looks at it, they’ll know it’s ‘noneya’ damn business.” I liked it so much I stole it.

The Team Noneya subset of Team Green included us parents who broke down and found out our babies’ genders but chose not to share them with anyone. Everyone had slightly different reasons for keeping the gender a secret, but at the root of it all was our shared belief (a belief shared by the parents who didn’t find out their babies’ genders) that people who were not involved in the process of contributing fifty percent of the baby’s genetic material should not really care what we were having, and if they did care, well, that was their problem, not ours.

Well, we were wrong. People care, and they care passionately. In fact, some people cared so passionately during my pregnancy, that they made me downright angry and just a wee bit stabby. Want to make a pregnant woman cry and see just how long a Cancer can hold a grudge? Tell her you wouldn’t bother to decorate her baby shower because she wouldn’t share her baby’s gender. Want to see just how far an envelope opener can be thrust into someone’s heart (at least in my mind)? Then try your chances in the office by harassing a pregnant and hormonal me every single day about her baby’s gender and interpreting every single box that is delivered as a “sign.”

I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now. Why does it bother someone so much that the parents either choose not to find out their baby’s gender or to not reveal it until the baby is born? Why? Why?? WHY??? Because, you know what? It’s noneya damn business. It’s not. And people’s stinky attitudes toward me when I was pregnant and keeping my Pop Culture Fetus’s gender identity a surprise (a surprise I thought would be nice, mind you) have increased my resolve to never reveal my child’s gender no matter how many children I have. I refuse to play people’s stupid little games – particularly when it truly does not, or at least should not, concern them.

I had a couple of reasons for not wanting to share the gender of Pop Culture Toddler. The first reason is that Pop Culture Dad and I had originally planned to not find out at all, and we wanted to half-honor that spirit. Before my 20-week ultrasound, we had already picked out both a boy and a girl name and painted the nursery. Three of the nursery walls were blue and yellow. The fourth wall was painted like a quilt wall – blue, yellow, green and pink. It’s the fourth color that gave people pause. Even though I hadn’t found out my child’s gender yet, I have heard several times (and still hear to this day) that we “let” pink be the fourth color because I knew I was having a girl. I didn’t. And I don’t care. I’m perfectly fine with my son having 5% of his bedroom pink. And there really wasn’t anything revealing in the choice of paint color – it simply matched the Care Bear border I had bought in my 9th week of pregnancy when I decided to design a nursery around a Grumpy Bear I had purchased on eBay five years prior. But I digress…

Pop Culture Dad and I decided on the morning of the ultrasound – on the way to the ultrasound – that we would find out the baby’s gender, but we decided to keep it a surprise. Pop Culture Dad decided he would make his life easier by simply telling people that we didn’t find out. I (as always) was feeling a little more brazen, so I decided I would have no problem telling people that we just weren’t going to reveal the gender.

Another reason for not revealing the gender was purely personal to me. I have a very large family, so I have been to a lot of baby showers. One thing that always irked me was the color conformity of the gifts. If it was a shower for a boy, everything was blue; if for a girl, then everything was pink. It was almost as if each guest went to Target and thought, “Oh! I’m sure no one else thought to get blue onesies! I must make sure I get a dozen!”. These all-blue and all-pink baby showers bothered me; but they weren’t my showers, so I put it out of my mind. I always tried to do my part, however, by mixing up my gifts a little. I always stick to the registry, because I refuse to presume that my preference overrides someone else’s well-thought out plans and specific requests (I’m considerate that way). But if there’s no registry, I try to get a mix of things. Yes, I will buy your little boy blue, but I will also buy green, orange, brown, whatever.

Even though I was [until I had a daughter and was forced to go shopping for her] a huge fan of pink, I hated pink until I was 21. I blame Hello Kitty for the transformation.  Back then, it was hard to find anything Hello Kitty that wasn’t pink. Slowly the two concepts melded in my mind, and… well… ask my husband how he feels about the pink rice cooker, toaster maker, sandwich press, griddle and gameroom…. However, I never intended for my pink fanaticism and Hello Kitty obsession to dictate everything I bought for my child, even if it was a girl. I knew that if I had a girl, I would find myself stuck with everything pink and frilly [for the record, I still do and always will hate frilly]; just like I knew if I had a boy, I would find myself stuck with everything blue and baseball-related.  How did I “know” this? Because the same people who bugged me constantly about my baby’s gender said the reason they “had” to know was so they knew whether to buy pink or blue and Hello Kitty or football – exactly the result I wanted to avoid. So, yes, boy or girl, no one was going to know my child's gender ahead of time.

[Oh, and for what it’s worth, Pop Culture Toddler does not look good in pink unless it’s a very dark, fuchsia-type color (not the kind you get at baby showers). You know what else doesn’t go with pink? Eczema -- of which PCT has plenty! PCT does, however, look fabulous in green, purple, and black – not that anyone forcing their pink preferences down my throat would have been thoughtful enough to consider that.]

At the root of all this is the fact that people are selfish and sometimes downright rude and pushy. If I could trust people to know my baby’s gender and then respect my wishes by not buying pink or blue, then maybe I wouldn’t mind revealing the gender so much (assuming I find out). But the fact is people don’t. Even knowing how I feel very strongly about this, I had people shoving their preferences down my throat when I was pregnant with PCT [didn’t they ever learn not to cross a hormonal pregnant woman???]. I feel the same way about this I do about our choices of names – if you didn’t put this baby in me and you’re not carrying it, you don’t get a vote, and I could care less about your preferences.

The thing is, if people feel so strongly that newborn girls should be swaddled in all pink and newborn boys in all blue, the solution is simple: have your own baby. If you already have your own baby, then you’ve already had the chance to put your opinion to work.  But for those of us who decide to keep our babies’ genders a surprise – whether a surprise from us or only a surprise to everyone else – don’t rain on our parades. We’ve made our decision, and this like most other parenting decisions, is very subjective and not up to a community vote. Deal with it. Because, really, it’s noneya damn business.