Each week, DD and I do a “Mommy & Me” ballet class at the Decatur School of Ballet. Our instructor, Miss Dee, is wonderful with the little ones, very patient, very flexible, full of energy, and quite attuned to what the girls are up for on any given day. Given my little one, that patience and flexibility come in handy. DD is, to be sure, her own little person.
In class, we do an exercise I’m sure most folks know called “butterfly.” (Just sit on the floor with the bottoms of your feet held together close to your crotch and stretch your bent legs down to the floor. Flap gently if you wish!) About the second or third week, Miss Dee asked each little girl what color butterfly she was. The responses came in turn: “orange” and “pink” and “blue” and “yellow.” All fluttery, pretty butterfly colors.
Then came DD’s turn.
“And what color butterfly are you?” queried Miss Dee to DD.
DD wrinkled her brow in a mannerism that she most definitely got from me, brows scrunching down between her eyes. She looked at Miss Dee for a second, very seriously.
“I’m NOT a butterfly,” she announced in a manner that brooked no disagreement. “I’M a BULLFROG.”
And, that is my daughter in a nutshell.
I enjoyed telling that story for several weeks. It wasn’t quite the end of the story, though. Miss Dee, being the wonderfully patient person that she is, tried to accommodate “Bullfrog.”
“What color butterfly would you pretend to be if you WERE pretending to be a butterfly” she asked the next week.
Again, Bullfrog replied, “I’m NOT a butterfly. I’m a BULLFROG.”
The following week, Miss Dee tried again with the hypothetical butterfly question, garnering the same response. Finally, a couple of weeks after the initial “Bullfrog pronouncement,” she acquiesced.
“What color bullfrog are you this week?” she asked kindly.
“Green!” Bullfrog replied enthusiastically. Miss Dee thought she had it made. For two weeks, she asked Bullfrog her color and got an animated “green” response. But Bullfrog had ideas of her own.
After several weeks of having a lovely green Bullfrog sitting in butterfly pose, about a week ago, Miss Dee asked Bullfrog what color frog she was that day.
Bullfrog scrunched her brow down in that recalcitrant manner and replied, “I’m NOT a bullfrog. I’m a CROCODILE.”
Monday, November 10, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
Reading the Facts
So, I’ve been reading a lot of nonfiction recently. Which is odd. I’m a voracious reader … of fiction. Historical, modern, mystery, sci-fi, fantasy, whatever. I like fiction. I like the escapism factor. But here lately it’s been the nonfiction that has drawn me.
Maybe I just read one too many mediocre Oprah’s-book-of-the-month-style novels here recently... I have gotten a number as “hand-me-downs” from family and friends…
(For example, Joshilyn Jackson’s Between, Georgia. I was rolling along just fine. She’s an engaging writer. But then, wham, pesky facts had to interfere. I’m here to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that one attorney cannot represent both spouses in divorce litigation. Not even if they say they like each other and just want to be done with it all and have split the car, the house, and the kid just like they want. Can anyone say “disbarment?” This one little factual error ruined what was otherwise a fun read for me. I mean, what else was the author blowing out of her ass? Does she not have a fact-checker? Does she not KNOW a lawyer? Not one? Couldn’t she have opened the Yellow Pages or called one of those divorce attorneys on the billboards (“UNCONTESTED DIVORCES from $500!! CALL NOW! 1-800-SPLIT-UP”) and say “Hey, I’m writing this book; can one attorney represent both sides of a divorcing couple? No? Great! Thanks! I’ll give you some props on my acknowledgements page”??? Whew. I think I’ve been holding that rant in for a while…)
But I digress. Nonfiction.
Maybe it’s just that I’ve been reading some really good nonfiction. It all started with Hope’s Edge by Frances Moore Lappe (author of Diet for a Small Planet) and her daughter Anna Lappe. Both delightful and disturbing. I couldn’t put it down, and it’s informed some recent changes in our eating habits, specifically in our food-purchasing habits. Her stories of how people around the world make organic farming work in the face of economic pressures to continue “conventional” farming, using pesticides and GMO seeds is inspiring. And her stories of the social and environmental costs of “conventional” agriculture and manufactured seeds and plants are eye-opening.
Then I was at playgroup talking with another mom about a book she was reading, Waste and Want by Susan Strasser. She raved about this history of trash, and I was intrigued. I told her about Hope’s Edge, and we agreed to swap.
While I waited for her to finish and loan me the book, I checked out Ms. Strasser’s Never Done: A History of American Housework from the library. Dense but fascinating! While there were a number of digressions, the focus of the book on how women’s work has changed from manual labor around the home – cooking, cleaning, laundering (whoo-boy, am I thankful for my HE stackable washer and dryer and my electric iron!!), providing clothing – to a focus on being a savvy consumer of products that are supposed to make all of those tasks easier. She also notes the social costs for women: while life is a LOT more pleasant physically now that we don’t have to haul our water and spend a whole day slapping laundry on a washboard, running it through a manual wringer, and hanging it on a clothesline, we women who stay at home at least part-time or more have also lost some opportunity to socialize with other women at the water pump or over the back fence while hanging sheets.
Once I finished that, it was on to The Lolita Effect by M. Gigi Durham, a book I saw reviewed in the Atlanta Journal Constitution. Boy, raising girls has unique challenges. (Yes, I know that raising boys does, too, but, for now, I have only a girl!) The book was a fascinating look at how girls view themselves, how myths about women inform our girls’ dress and attitudes, and how parents and other supporters of girls can help them take a critical look at media depictions of women and their own preconceptions about women.
Around that time, my friend finished her trashy read, and I got the scoop on trash in Waste and Want. With her same style, Strasser’s book on trash provides way more information than I knew existed about how Americans have viewed waste throughout the past few centuries. (Who knew that there’s a difference between “garbage” and “rubbish?”) She focuses on how “thrift” has transformed from learning to make do, reuse, or do without to learning to spend wisely! If you don’t want to rethink what you throw out or how you shop, don’t read this book.
Somewhere in there, I read a little book that had been sitting on my “to read” pile for many years called Medicine Women. A quickie read, it surveyed the history of women as providers of health care, in a broad sense. From healers to witches to midwives to nurses to modern doctors, the book looked at various roles women have played, and profiled a few outstanding examples.
But I wasn’t done with my nonfiction orgy! I just finished Mindless Eating by Brian Wansink, a fun look at how where we eat, what we eat, how it’s displayed, what container it’s in, and more affect how much we eat. The author’s easygoing prose and interesting stories about his case studies and tests made for a fast read, and I learned some really neat tips about using the “mindless margin” to my advantage and to help my family make good food choices.
Now, I’m on to Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential. Loving it so far, but I think I’m going to have to make a not-so-brief foray back in to fiction. Somehow, I made it through my entire educational career without reading Moby Dick. The library had it checked-in, and I’ve really been wanting to read the copy of Ahab’s Wife that my husband gave me at least four years ago. I think I’ll get more out of the newer book if I’ve read the older and have the context to get the allusions. So, sense both are very dense, I’ll be off nonfiction for a while.
But I’ll be back… I have Jared Diamond’s Collapse and at least five other titles on my “to read” pile just waiting for me to be ready to devour some more facts, theories, and philosophies!
Maybe I just read one too many mediocre Oprah’s-book-of-the-month-style novels here recently... I have gotten a number as “hand-me-downs” from family and friends…
(For example, Joshilyn Jackson’s Between, Georgia. I was rolling along just fine. She’s an engaging writer. But then, wham, pesky facts had to interfere. I’m here to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that one attorney cannot represent both spouses in divorce litigation. Not even if they say they like each other and just want to be done with it all and have split the car, the house, and the kid just like they want. Can anyone say “disbarment?” This one little factual error ruined what was otherwise a fun read for me. I mean, what else was the author blowing out of her ass? Does she not have a fact-checker? Does she not KNOW a lawyer? Not one? Couldn’t she have opened the Yellow Pages or called one of those divorce attorneys on the billboards (“UNCONTESTED DIVORCES from $500!! CALL NOW! 1-800-SPLIT-UP”) and say “Hey, I’m writing this book; can one attorney represent both sides of a divorcing couple? No? Great! Thanks! I’ll give you some props on my acknowledgements page”??? Whew. I think I’ve been holding that rant in for a while…)
But I digress. Nonfiction.
Maybe it’s just that I’ve been reading some really good nonfiction. It all started with Hope’s Edge by Frances Moore Lappe (author of Diet for a Small Planet) and her daughter Anna Lappe. Both delightful and disturbing. I couldn’t put it down, and it’s informed some recent changes in our eating habits, specifically in our food-purchasing habits. Her stories of how people around the world make organic farming work in the face of economic pressures to continue “conventional” farming, using pesticides and GMO seeds is inspiring. And her stories of the social and environmental costs of “conventional” agriculture and manufactured seeds and plants are eye-opening.
Then I was at playgroup talking with another mom about a book she was reading, Waste and Want by Susan Strasser. She raved about this history of trash, and I was intrigued. I told her about Hope’s Edge, and we agreed to swap.
While I waited for her to finish and loan me the book, I checked out Ms. Strasser’s Never Done: A History of American Housework from the library. Dense but fascinating! While there were a number of digressions, the focus of the book on how women’s work has changed from manual labor around the home – cooking, cleaning, laundering (whoo-boy, am I thankful for my HE stackable washer and dryer and my electric iron!!), providing clothing – to a focus on being a savvy consumer of products that are supposed to make all of those tasks easier. She also notes the social costs for women: while life is a LOT more pleasant physically now that we don’t have to haul our water and spend a whole day slapping laundry on a washboard, running it through a manual wringer, and hanging it on a clothesline, we women who stay at home at least part-time or more have also lost some opportunity to socialize with other women at the water pump or over the back fence while hanging sheets.
Once I finished that, it was on to The Lolita Effect by M. Gigi Durham, a book I saw reviewed in the Atlanta Journal Constitution. Boy, raising girls has unique challenges. (Yes, I know that raising boys does, too, but, for now, I have only a girl!) The book was a fascinating look at how girls view themselves, how myths about women inform our girls’ dress and attitudes, and how parents and other supporters of girls can help them take a critical look at media depictions of women and their own preconceptions about women.
Around that time, my friend finished her trashy read, and I got the scoop on trash in Waste and Want. With her same style, Strasser’s book on trash provides way more information than I knew existed about how Americans have viewed waste throughout the past few centuries. (Who knew that there’s a difference between “garbage” and “rubbish?”) She focuses on how “thrift” has transformed from learning to make do, reuse, or do without to learning to spend wisely! If you don’t want to rethink what you throw out or how you shop, don’t read this book.
Somewhere in there, I read a little book that had been sitting on my “to read” pile for many years called Medicine Women. A quickie read, it surveyed the history of women as providers of health care, in a broad sense. From healers to witches to midwives to nurses to modern doctors, the book looked at various roles women have played, and profiled a few outstanding examples.
But I wasn’t done with my nonfiction orgy! I just finished Mindless Eating by Brian Wansink, a fun look at how where we eat, what we eat, how it’s displayed, what container it’s in, and more affect how much we eat. The author’s easygoing prose and interesting stories about his case studies and tests made for a fast read, and I learned some really neat tips about using the “mindless margin” to my advantage and to help my family make good food choices.
Now, I’m on to Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential. Loving it so far, but I think I’m going to have to make a not-so-brief foray back in to fiction. Somehow, I made it through my entire educational career without reading Moby Dick. The library had it checked-in, and I’ve really been wanting to read the copy of Ahab’s Wife that my husband gave me at least four years ago. I think I’ll get more out of the newer book if I’ve read the older and have the context to get the allusions. So, sense both are very dense, I’ll be off nonfiction for a while.
But I’ll be back… I have Jared Diamond’s Collapse and at least five other titles on my “to read” pile just waiting for me to be ready to devour some more facts, theories, and philosophies!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Organizing Childhood to Death
A few days ago, another parent on my neighborhood’s parent email group asked if anyone were interested in soccer for the tots. Well, I thought, soccer is fun… I played in college… DD likes to kick the ball… She likes running… But organized soccer for a two-year-old? I don’t know…
I spent five years coaching, first t-ball for a year then instructional league baseball (that is, with a pitching machine) for four. I loved it. The kids loved it. Most of the parents loved it. (A few didn’t like ME because I taught the kids to play, patted them on the back, told them to have fun, and TOTALLY IGNORED THE SCORE. My little teams usually did well, which was fun, but totally not the point. Topic for another blog.) So, there is absolutely a place for organized sports in some children’s lives.
But the children I coached ranged in age from five to seven, and it seems there are so many organized activities nowadays for much younger kids as well as older ones. (For my concerns about too much structure too soon, see my earlier entry about preschool.) There’s soccer, t-ball, peewee football, cheering, music class, dance class, art class, Zoo class, swim team, yoga class, story-time at the library … not to mention playdates and preschool (then school).
Which got me thinking, it seems that today’s parents are spending a lot of time scheduling activities for their very young children. When do these kids just get to play? Are we organizing childhood to death?
It’s such a change from my own childhood that it gives me pause. I have absolutely no recollection of doing anything remotely organized by my parents or other adults. No playdates. No team sports (not until college for me, anyway). No classes.
I had a great childhood. I grew up in a relatively rural area just outside a small town in middle Georgia. Until I went to school, I went to daycare during the school year (my mom was a teacher). Once school started, I did the standard in-school stuff – 4-H, for example – and took piano lessons. In the summers, both before and after I started school, I pretty much ran amok (until I was old enough for a summer job). My mother’s idea of scheduling my summer activities was to give me a list of chores to complete during the week and to tell me each day: “Go outside and don’t come back in until I call you unless you have to go to the bathroom!”
There weren’t any sidewalks. The road wasn’t even paved for many years. Two other children lived on my road: Rachael, a year younger than me, and her sister Claire, a year older than my younger middle sister. We rode our bikes. We pretended my family’s swing was a train and traveled around the world. We played with Barbies. We read. Yes, following my list of activities above, we even played ball, cheered, danced, did art, played with our pets, swam at a neighbor’s pool, and went to the library. (I admit that soccer was not something I encountered until college, and yoga? Not an activity encountered by a middle-Georgia child with a middle class, fairly blue-collar upbringing!!)
It was, in two words, pretty ideal. In fact, it bordered on idyllic!
So why don’t we parents today let our kids have this freedom, this apparent luxury of an unscheduled childhood? Why do we feel the need to schedule our children’s play?
There are several reasons for this phenomenon, I think.
First, fear is a big motivator for parents. I’ve not seen any statistics. I don’t know if there are more child abductions or more child predators out there now than there were in the 70s. It does seem to me, though, that we hear an awful lot more about them. Part of this increase in information is good – AMBER alerts make sure that people know about an abduction and are in a better position to prevent harm to a child; sex offender registries alert parents to the need for appropriate vigilance. On the other hand, in the era of 24-hour news, play-by-play coverage of “high profile” kidnappings and by-the-minute details about John Mark Carr’s whereabouts may be a bit much. Do parents in Atlanta need to hear about the kidnapping of a child in California? Maybe. Maybe not.
Regardless of whether we need to know, we do, and it makes us wary of leaving our toddlers and children to play alone in their own yards, much less in the wider area of their neighborhoods or local parks. My husband, who grew up in suburban Dallas and then Atlanta, remembers riding his bike and running around the neighborhood with his friends in a way that kids today don’t. And I think they don’t because we parents worry. A lot. In light of that, scheduled playdates, supervised classes, and organized sports look pretty attractive.
Second, for us urban parents there is some lack of “run around” space that is appropriate for unsupervised fun. My family had twelve acres, six of which was “yard.” My friend next door had a similar amount of yard in which we could stage our adventures. Since we were on a road that was pretty much untraveled except by those 10 or so families that lived on it – and there were only three houses past ours – our parents didn’t worry too much about us getting hit by traffic either, so we could ride our bikes in the road once we were “old enough.”
We feel uncomfortable letting our DD play in the front yard without us very close by. There’s no fence (hopefully coming). Lots of cars drive by, many at unreasonable speeds. We have lovely parks nearby, but, at two, she can’t walk to them, and, given reason number one above, I don’t know at what age we’ll be willing for her to walk to them alone. She just doesn’t have the physical space that I had growing up. If we want her outside, we often have to schedule the time.
Third, I think some of these activities ARE a great way for parents and children to spend time together. I freely admit to loving the time DD and I spend together on Monday mornings at “Mommy & Me Ballet.” She and I socialize together, and it’s lots of fun. I would’ve loved some class like that with my mom, but in the 70s, even our library story times were parent-free.
Somewhat related to this, I think there is a lot of parental guilt over work schedules and the resulting lack of “quality time.” Classes for parent and child are a way to alleviate a lot of that guilt. Some parents validly use these classes as a way to make up for time they aren’t home and, like me, to bond with their children over shared interests. (In my case, not so shared, but, hey, if she loves ballet, I’m game!) A few parents, I believe, delude themselves into thinking that scheduling lots of activities for their children somehow compensates for the parents’ absence. Maybe they think if the kids are so busy with soccer and dance the kids won’t notice (or won’t care) that their parents aren’t around and that they spend an awful lot of time with a preschool teacher, daycare provider, or a nanny.
Finally, there is the real mixed bag reason of parental desire for a child’s success. Of course, every parent wants a smart, creative, happy child. Exposing a child to a variety of activities definitely has value. I’m not so sure, though, that the way to get a smart, creative, happy child is by scheduling lots of structured activities. In fact, based purely on my personal experience and my observance of my peers, I’d say that the more tightly scheduled her day, the less smart, creative, and happy the child. Who can be smart, creative, and happy if she is tired, overstimulated, and never has any time to stretch her imagination, run around without an agenda, or just sit and breathe?
So, what do we do? Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m trying to relax. I check the sex offender registry, but I also let DD on the porch – but not in the yard – without me being right there. For now, we do one class at a time and one that involves both of us. My husband and I try to give DD as much unfettered creative play time as possible, even if it’s just in her play area of our house. We tell her to go amuse herself. We do playdates, but not more than once a week. And, all things considered, maybe, just maybe, when we’re done with ballet, there will be some soccer in her future.
I spent five years coaching, first t-ball for a year then instructional league baseball (that is, with a pitching machine) for four. I loved it. The kids loved it. Most of the parents loved it. (A few didn’t like ME because I taught the kids to play, patted them on the back, told them to have fun, and TOTALLY IGNORED THE SCORE. My little teams usually did well, which was fun, but totally not the point. Topic for another blog.) So, there is absolutely a place for organized sports in some children’s lives.
But the children I coached ranged in age from five to seven, and it seems there are so many organized activities nowadays for much younger kids as well as older ones. (For my concerns about too much structure too soon, see my earlier entry about preschool.) There’s soccer, t-ball, peewee football, cheering, music class, dance class, art class, Zoo class, swim team, yoga class, story-time at the library … not to mention playdates and preschool (then school).
Which got me thinking, it seems that today’s parents are spending a lot of time scheduling activities for their very young children. When do these kids just get to play? Are we organizing childhood to death?
It’s such a change from my own childhood that it gives me pause. I have absolutely no recollection of doing anything remotely organized by my parents or other adults. No playdates. No team sports (not until college for me, anyway). No classes.
I had a great childhood. I grew up in a relatively rural area just outside a small town in middle Georgia. Until I went to school, I went to daycare during the school year (my mom was a teacher). Once school started, I did the standard in-school stuff – 4-H, for example – and took piano lessons. In the summers, both before and after I started school, I pretty much ran amok (until I was old enough for a summer job). My mother’s idea of scheduling my summer activities was to give me a list of chores to complete during the week and to tell me each day: “Go outside and don’t come back in until I call you unless you have to go to the bathroom!”
There weren’t any sidewalks. The road wasn’t even paved for many years. Two other children lived on my road: Rachael, a year younger than me, and her sister Claire, a year older than my younger middle sister. We rode our bikes. We pretended my family’s swing was a train and traveled around the world. We played with Barbies. We read. Yes, following my list of activities above, we even played ball, cheered, danced, did art, played with our pets, swam at a neighbor’s pool, and went to the library. (I admit that soccer was not something I encountered until college, and yoga? Not an activity encountered by a middle-Georgia child with a middle class, fairly blue-collar upbringing!!)
It was, in two words, pretty ideal. In fact, it bordered on idyllic!
So why don’t we parents today let our kids have this freedom, this apparent luxury of an unscheduled childhood? Why do we feel the need to schedule our children’s play?
There are several reasons for this phenomenon, I think.
First, fear is a big motivator for parents. I’ve not seen any statistics. I don’t know if there are more child abductions or more child predators out there now than there were in the 70s. It does seem to me, though, that we hear an awful lot more about them. Part of this increase in information is good – AMBER alerts make sure that people know about an abduction and are in a better position to prevent harm to a child; sex offender registries alert parents to the need for appropriate vigilance. On the other hand, in the era of 24-hour news, play-by-play coverage of “high profile” kidnappings and by-the-minute details about John Mark Carr’s whereabouts may be a bit much. Do parents in Atlanta need to hear about the kidnapping of a child in California? Maybe. Maybe not.
Regardless of whether we need to know, we do, and it makes us wary of leaving our toddlers and children to play alone in their own yards, much less in the wider area of their neighborhoods or local parks. My husband, who grew up in suburban Dallas and then Atlanta, remembers riding his bike and running around the neighborhood with his friends in a way that kids today don’t. And I think they don’t because we parents worry. A lot. In light of that, scheduled playdates, supervised classes, and organized sports look pretty attractive.
Second, for us urban parents there is some lack of “run around” space that is appropriate for unsupervised fun. My family had twelve acres, six of which was “yard.” My friend next door had a similar amount of yard in which we could stage our adventures. Since we were on a road that was pretty much untraveled except by those 10 or so families that lived on it – and there were only three houses past ours – our parents didn’t worry too much about us getting hit by traffic either, so we could ride our bikes in the road once we were “old enough.”
We feel uncomfortable letting our DD play in the front yard without us very close by. There’s no fence (hopefully coming). Lots of cars drive by, many at unreasonable speeds. We have lovely parks nearby, but, at two, she can’t walk to them, and, given reason number one above, I don’t know at what age we’ll be willing for her to walk to them alone. She just doesn’t have the physical space that I had growing up. If we want her outside, we often have to schedule the time.
Third, I think some of these activities ARE a great way for parents and children to spend time together. I freely admit to loving the time DD and I spend together on Monday mornings at “Mommy & Me Ballet.” She and I socialize together, and it’s lots of fun. I would’ve loved some class like that with my mom, but in the 70s, even our library story times were parent-free.
Somewhat related to this, I think there is a lot of parental guilt over work schedules and the resulting lack of “quality time.” Classes for parent and child are a way to alleviate a lot of that guilt. Some parents validly use these classes as a way to make up for time they aren’t home and, like me, to bond with their children over shared interests. (In my case, not so shared, but, hey, if she loves ballet, I’m game!) A few parents, I believe, delude themselves into thinking that scheduling lots of activities for their children somehow compensates for the parents’ absence. Maybe they think if the kids are so busy with soccer and dance the kids won’t notice (or won’t care) that their parents aren’t around and that they spend an awful lot of time with a preschool teacher, daycare provider, or a nanny.
Finally, there is the real mixed bag reason of parental desire for a child’s success. Of course, every parent wants a smart, creative, happy child. Exposing a child to a variety of activities definitely has value. I’m not so sure, though, that the way to get a smart, creative, happy child is by scheduling lots of structured activities. In fact, based purely on my personal experience and my observance of my peers, I’d say that the more tightly scheduled her day, the less smart, creative, and happy the child. Who can be smart, creative, and happy if she is tired, overstimulated, and never has any time to stretch her imagination, run around without an agenda, or just sit and breathe?
So, what do we do? Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m trying to relax. I check the sex offender registry, but I also let DD on the porch – but not in the yard – without me being right there. For now, we do one class at a time and one that involves both of us. My husband and I try to give DD as much unfettered creative play time as possible, even if it’s just in her play area of our house. We tell her to go amuse herself. We do playdates, but not more than once a week. And, all things considered, maybe, just maybe, when we’re done with ballet, there will be some soccer in her future.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Let’s get one thing straight: breastfed babies aren’t smarter; formula-fed babies are just dumber.
Maybe this seems a matter of semantics (and a little incendiary), but I’m tired of reading about how breastfed babies are “more this” or “less that” than babies fed formula. I completely understand the urge of other breast-feeding advocates to talk about all the great benefits of breastfeeding in this way. But I really do wish they would find a new way to talk about it because what their language indicates is that somehow formula feeding is the norm.
Breastfeeding, NOT formula-feeding, is and should be the baseline. The sad reality is that multi-million-dollar corporations want us to think that formula is God’s gift to babies and mamas everywhere when instead it’s turned into our gift to their coffers. Simply stated, formula is a breastmilk substitute for families where breastfeeding is not an option.
Formula is for all those wonderful mothers out there who CANNOT breastfeed for medical reasons, either their own or their child’s (and I know a number who agonized over this issue – it’s heartbreaking to want to breastfeed and be unable to do so). Formula is for adoptive families. Formula is also for all those fabulous daddies going it alone or in pairs. These parents should give their little sweet babies some formula and sleep with a clear conscience, without the slightest bit of guilt or trepidation.
But women who CAN breastfeed but choose not to do so really need to understand the reality of breastfeeding as a baseline:
* Breastfeeding mamas often have little difficulty losing “baby weight” quickly. Breastfeeding mothers burn, on average, an extra 500 calories a day compared to calories burned during their pregnancies. (Seems like being pregnant would require the greater calorie load but not so!) In addition, breastfeeding encourages the contraction of the uterus back down to its pre-pregnancy size. Both of which, believe me, help you look more like your old self faster.
* Formula-fed babies are dumber. OK, I’ve already made this (rather mean) point in my title, but, hey, if breastfed babies are “smarter” then this is the obvious corollary. Seriously, in recent studies, breastfed babies experienced cognitive benefits.
* Breastmilk confers all kinds of immunological benefits on your baby. Formula does not contain antibodies. Enough said.
* Breastmilk may keep your baby at a healthy weight. Some recent studies have shown that breastfed babies have low risk factors for childhood obesity. In our rapidly-expanding-waistline culture, that is only a good thing.
* Breastmilk makes for a toddler who eats. Don’t get me wrong. Your toddler will be picky and will fixate on some food or another. But all that stuff you eat while breastfeeding? Your baby tastes it too. Just like you hear about cow milk getting “tainted” with wild onions or some such zesty herb, your breastmilk gets flavored by what you eat. (Formula ... well ... it comes in formula flavor.) Studies show that kids who breastfeed like a wide range of food flavors. My DD loves spicy Mexican salsa, lemons and limes, olives, and other non-traditional toddler fare. Maybe your toddler will at least let you add broccoli when she fixates on the traditional toddler favorite of boxed mac and cheese.
* On a truly practical level, breastfeeding does not require lots of stuff. Have boob, will travel. Anywhere. Any time. Perfect temperature and always ready. No being close to some microwave, stovetop, or bottle warmer every two to four hours. No bottles, extra nipples, or bottle liners to carry around. Sure, you can get a breastpump and all the bottles and paraphernalia, but you don’t need it. My DD didn’t take a bottle. Ever. Sounds inconvenient (and I worried initially that it would be so), but it was really far more convenient that lugging all that stuff around. I just lugged her (and the standard supply of diapers and wipes!).
So, rethink the baseline and bring breastmilk back as the norm. It may not make your baby “smarter,” but it sure will make her healthy and it may make you, your baby, and your diaper bag lighter.
Breastfeeding, NOT formula-feeding, is and should be the baseline. The sad reality is that multi-million-dollar corporations want us to think that formula is God’s gift to babies and mamas everywhere when instead it’s turned into our gift to their coffers. Simply stated, formula is a breastmilk substitute for families where breastfeeding is not an option.
Formula is for all those wonderful mothers out there who CANNOT breastfeed for medical reasons, either their own or their child’s (and I know a number who agonized over this issue – it’s heartbreaking to want to breastfeed and be unable to do so). Formula is for adoptive families. Formula is also for all those fabulous daddies going it alone or in pairs. These parents should give their little sweet babies some formula and sleep with a clear conscience, without the slightest bit of guilt or trepidation.
But women who CAN breastfeed but choose not to do so really need to understand the reality of breastfeeding as a baseline:
* Breastfeeding mamas often have little difficulty losing “baby weight” quickly. Breastfeeding mothers burn, on average, an extra 500 calories a day compared to calories burned during their pregnancies. (Seems like being pregnant would require the greater calorie load but not so!) In addition, breastfeeding encourages the contraction of the uterus back down to its pre-pregnancy size. Both of which, believe me, help you look more like your old self faster.
* Formula-fed babies are dumber. OK, I’ve already made this (rather mean) point in my title, but, hey, if breastfed babies are “smarter” then this is the obvious corollary. Seriously, in recent studies, breastfed babies experienced cognitive benefits.
* Breastmilk confers all kinds of immunological benefits on your baby. Formula does not contain antibodies. Enough said.
* Breastmilk may keep your baby at a healthy weight. Some recent studies have shown that breastfed babies have low risk factors for childhood obesity. In our rapidly-expanding-waistline culture, that is only a good thing.
* Breastmilk makes for a toddler who eats. Don’t get me wrong. Your toddler will be picky and will fixate on some food or another. But all that stuff you eat while breastfeeding? Your baby tastes it too. Just like you hear about cow milk getting “tainted” with wild onions or some such zesty herb, your breastmilk gets flavored by what you eat. (Formula ... well ... it comes in formula flavor.) Studies show that kids who breastfeed like a wide range of food flavors. My DD loves spicy Mexican salsa, lemons and limes, olives, and other non-traditional toddler fare. Maybe your toddler will at least let you add broccoli when she fixates on the traditional toddler favorite of boxed mac and cheese.
* On a truly practical level, breastfeeding does not require lots of stuff. Have boob, will travel. Anywhere. Any time. Perfect temperature and always ready. No being close to some microwave, stovetop, or bottle warmer every two to four hours. No bottles, extra nipples, or bottle liners to carry around. Sure, you can get a breastpump and all the bottles and paraphernalia, but you don’t need it. My DD didn’t take a bottle. Ever. Sounds inconvenient (and I worried initially that it would be so), but it was really far more convenient that lugging all that stuff around. I just lugged her (and the standard supply of diapers and wipes!).
So, rethink the baseline and bring breastmilk back as the norm. It may not make your baby “smarter,” but it sure will make her healthy and it may make you, your baby, and your diaper bag lighter.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Can everyone please stop bitching about the price of gas?
I swear that if I hear one more person bitch about the price of gas, I think I’ll go nutso. Yes, yes, yes, gas is expensive. I get it. My billfold gets it. Our credit card statement gets it. But enough already. Stop talking and start doing.
Here’s what I’m doing to remove some of the sting:
The first step, really, is obvious. I had to stop driving so damn much. My hubby and I ride into work together whenever possible. I work from home on a regular basis. You can, too. Carpool. Telecommute. I know, I know, my husband and I work for ourselves, and we work together, so it’s not that hard for us. My sister and brother-in-law, however, DO NOT work together or for themselves, and they also carpool to get her to work and him to school, and she works from home one day a week. Hey, you can even GET PAID to do either… or both! Check out http://www.cleanaircampaign.com/. My sister GETS PAID to do so by that lovely Clean Air Campaign. You, too, can reduce your commute (and did I mention you can GET PAID?).
When I do drive, I try to drive smart. I have diligently tried not to drive my car for only one errand (unless it’s really an emergency). If I go out, I’m going OUT. DD gets strapped in the back seat, and we head out for the marathon of errand-running. I map out my errands (at least in my mind if not on paper) to minimize back-tracking. I consolidate errands – if I need to hit Kroger, for example, which is in a big complex of shops and banks, I wait until I also need to drop off dry cleaning, pick up mail, grab a birthday card and gift at Barnes & Noble, pick up office supplies at Office Depot, and make a deposit at the bank.
I’ve also looked for alternate transport. My bike? It just came out of the garage and got brand-spanking-new tires and a tune up. I’m excited that a bike path – installed only a few years ago – runs almost directly from my home’s front door to my office’s front door. And I’m looking for a trailer so that DD can come along for the ride on trips to locations that are not within easy walking distance but close enough to bike.
Why drive when you can walk? DD’s stroller and my Columbia sandals are getting more use than ever (and we already walked/strolled a lot). We’re lucky – we have about six parks, at least five casual restaurants, two coffee shops, a lovely gift shop, and a wine store/convenience store all within easy walking distance. The way I see it, it’s all free exercise (maybe we can save EVEN MORE MONEY and drop that Y membership!).
I’m even considering a return to MARTA for some necessary trips, like my weekly Kiwanis meeting. I’m crunching the numbers to determine whether the MARTA fare is cheaper than the gas. If it is, I’ll be putting that Breeze card to use more often.
These are just a few things that I have tried. I welcome you to share your ideas about how you, too, are making as little as possible out of the gas price “crisis.” Quit bitching and start making a difference!
Here’s what I’m doing to remove some of the sting:
The first step, really, is obvious. I had to stop driving so damn much. My hubby and I ride into work together whenever possible. I work from home on a regular basis. You can, too. Carpool. Telecommute. I know, I know, my husband and I work for ourselves, and we work together, so it’s not that hard for us. My sister and brother-in-law, however, DO NOT work together or for themselves, and they also carpool to get her to work and him to school, and she works from home one day a week. Hey, you can even GET PAID to do either… or both! Check out http://www.cleanaircampaign.com/. My sister GETS PAID to do so by that lovely Clean Air Campaign. You, too, can reduce your commute (and did I mention you can GET PAID?).
When I do drive, I try to drive smart. I have diligently tried not to drive my car for only one errand (unless it’s really an emergency). If I go out, I’m going OUT. DD gets strapped in the back seat, and we head out for the marathon of errand-running. I map out my errands (at least in my mind if not on paper) to minimize back-tracking. I consolidate errands – if I need to hit Kroger, for example, which is in a big complex of shops and banks, I wait until I also need to drop off dry cleaning, pick up mail, grab a birthday card and gift at Barnes & Noble, pick up office supplies at Office Depot, and make a deposit at the bank.
I’ve also looked for alternate transport. My bike? It just came out of the garage and got brand-spanking-new tires and a tune up. I’m excited that a bike path – installed only a few years ago – runs almost directly from my home’s front door to my office’s front door. And I’m looking for a trailer so that DD can come along for the ride on trips to locations that are not within easy walking distance but close enough to bike.
Why drive when you can walk? DD’s stroller and my Columbia sandals are getting more use than ever (and we already walked/strolled a lot). We’re lucky – we have about six parks, at least five casual restaurants, two coffee shops, a lovely gift shop, and a wine store/convenience store all within easy walking distance. The way I see it, it’s all free exercise (maybe we can save EVEN MORE MONEY and drop that Y membership!).
I’m even considering a return to MARTA for some necessary trips, like my weekly Kiwanis meeting. I’m crunching the numbers to determine whether the MARTA fare is cheaper than the gas. If it is, I’ll be putting that Breeze card to use more often.
These are just a few things that I have tried. I welcome you to share your ideas about how you, too, are making as little as possible out of the gas price “crisis.” Quit bitching and start making a difference!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Return to yoga
Yesterday, I returned to my yoga mat for the first time in two years. It … was … WONDERFUL! Yoga hasn’t been entirely absent from my life. It’s just that, while I love DD, she has put a crimp in my personal time. Rather than DOING yoga, I’ve spent a lot of time over the past two years THINKING about yoga… about how much I enjoy it, about how I wanted to get back to it, and even envisioning myself doing it.
I was amazed at how much “muscle memory” I seem to have as I returned to an asana practice (yoga movement for all you non-yogis). It was almost as if all that thinking about yoga poses had somehow clarified them in my mind so that when I returned to the mat each pose was distilled to its essence, allowing me to move right into the form.
I was amazed at how much “muscle memory” I seem to have as I returned to an asana practice (yoga movement for all you non-yogis). It was almost as if all that thinking about yoga poses had somehow clarified them in my mind so that when I returned to the mat each pose was distilled to its essence, allowing me to move right into the form.
My child can’t pee in a pot, but she can say “Don’t bother me Daddy; I’m busy right now.”
As a parent, I’m pretty darn proud of all the things DD can do. She’s a smart little cookie. While other self-centered un-sharing two-year-olds may say “mine, mine, mine,” self-centered un-sharing DD pronounces “I want it. I want it. I want it.” She delights in responding “I think it is” when you ask her a question. And don’t get me started on all the words she knows and how she picks up EVERY … LITTLE … THING her daddy and I say.
She knows her mind, too. It’s no surprise to me that the photos Auntie A took at our “Mommy & Me” ballet class show all the little ballerinas off doing lovely stretches with their mommies at one end of the room while MY little pink-frocked ballerina is leaping from pink mat to pink mat at the other end of the room. She was, mind you, a bullfrog that day.
And her favorite phrase? Well, lately, it’s “I don’t like [insert word describing whatever you are offering her] ANY MORE.” No opinionated two-year-olds in this house, no sir-ee!
And did I mention her creativity? Each day, DD announces what she is. A horse that gallops. A bullfrog (that’s a favorite). A horse. A pumpkin. And once, a chocolate chip cookie. She has tea parties and conversations with her stuffed animals. The little trains in our dominoes set she has declared to be “baby trains,” the children of her large Fisher Price animal train choo-choo. I admit I’m pretty impressed by what she thinks up.
One of the things you learn as a parent, though, is that you shouldn’t be too hasty to declare your child as the most awesome at anything. We all know that mom or dad, right? The one who swears that little dumpling is the next incarnation of Marie Curie, Martha Graham, and Mother Teresa all rolled into one?
Yeah, I've got a good dose of parental humility. See, I must confess, my hyper-verbal, precocious little one refuses to “go potty.” Oh, the potty is fun, don’t get me wrong. She likes to sit on it. She likes to sit her stuffed animals on it. She likes to pull toilet paper off the roll. She likes to wipe. She likes to flush. She REALLY likes to wash her hands. But don’t count on getting anything actually IN the toilet. No, no, THAT is reserved for DIAPERS or, on some occasions, the SHOWER.
Panties? No … thank … you. She is not swayed by arguments that Mama wears panties and Daddy wears underpants, by videos of Elmo pooping in the pot, or by exclamations about how her little friends wear cute flowery underdrawers. DD “does not like panties ANY MORE.”
I’m not despondent. It’ll happen. Until it does, I’ll just content myself with listening to DD declare her likes and dislikes and be a “good little mama bullfrog” as she hops around.
She knows her mind, too. It’s no surprise to me that the photos Auntie A took at our “Mommy & Me” ballet class show all the little ballerinas off doing lovely stretches with their mommies at one end of the room while MY little pink-frocked ballerina is leaping from pink mat to pink mat at the other end of the room. She was, mind you, a bullfrog that day.
And her favorite phrase? Well, lately, it’s “I don’t like [insert word describing whatever you are offering her] ANY MORE.” No opinionated two-year-olds in this house, no sir-ee!
And did I mention her creativity? Each day, DD announces what she is. A horse that gallops. A bullfrog (that’s a favorite). A horse. A pumpkin. And once, a chocolate chip cookie. She has tea parties and conversations with her stuffed animals. The little trains in our dominoes set she has declared to be “baby trains,” the children of her large Fisher Price animal train choo-choo. I admit I’m pretty impressed by what she thinks up.
One of the things you learn as a parent, though, is that you shouldn’t be too hasty to declare your child as the most awesome at anything. We all know that mom or dad, right? The one who swears that little dumpling is the next incarnation of Marie Curie, Martha Graham, and Mother Teresa all rolled into one?
Yeah, I've got a good dose of parental humility. See, I must confess, my hyper-verbal, precocious little one refuses to “go potty.” Oh, the potty is fun, don’t get me wrong. She likes to sit on it. She likes to sit her stuffed animals on it. She likes to pull toilet paper off the roll. She likes to wipe. She likes to flush. She REALLY likes to wash her hands. But don’t count on getting anything actually IN the toilet. No, no, THAT is reserved for DIAPERS or, on some occasions, the SHOWER.
Panties? No … thank … you. She is not swayed by arguments that Mama wears panties and Daddy wears underpants, by videos of Elmo pooping in the pot, or by exclamations about how her little friends wear cute flowery underdrawers. DD “does not like panties ANY MORE.”
I’m not despondent. It’ll happen. Until it does, I’ll just content myself with listening to DD declare her likes and dislikes and be a “good little mama bullfrog” as she hops around.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Enough
My dear friend SciWonk (check her out at http://sciwonk.blogspot.com/) recently posted the question “how much is enough?” It’s a question I’ve often asked as well, especially because I work as a personal organizer with a steady stream of clients, because I am the extremely organized managing attorney for my husband’s and my firm, and because I am a reformed pack rat. As a result, I have some pretty well thought-out opinions on what’s enough.
I am constantly asking clients to get rid of things. (And when I come home from working with them, as I told SciWonk, I often want to give away everything I own as a reaction to all my clients’ stuff!!) I push them to “love it, use it, or lose it.” I’m also big on “reduce, reuse, recycle,” and you’ll note that the first tenet is REDUCE.
So SciWonk’s post about “enough” got me thinking again about an issue that I return to over and over. I think of it as the less-is-more concept.
I’m a big believer in asking the right questions, and I think that when it comes to stuff, too many of us ask “how much do I need?” or “how much is enough?” The better question is not so easy to define, and I think really involves how little we need and how little is enough. From what I’ve seen with my clients and personally experienced, it really boils down to what you want out of life. Do you want a life controlled by stuff or do you want a life controlled by you?
I see so many people trapped in clutter, and, let me tell you, physical clutter is a sign of mental decision-making paralysis. When you do not know what is important to you, you cannot decide what to keep and what to toss. You end up with a lot of clutter, a lot of stuff, and you’re never sure what is “enough.” When you can decide what is important to you, life gets a lot simpler and a lot less cluttered and what is “enough” becomes a lot more clear.
See, the real issue for most of my clients isn’t that they’re messy, it’s that they have too much stuff. Messy is fine. Though I’m organized, I’m no paragon of neatness. In fact, I am a mess. There are very often dust bunnies on my stairs and under my bed. My desk has a pile of stuff to eBay on it. At the moment I type this, dirty dishes sit in the sink and DD’s toys are scattered around. And I never make my bed (sorry Mom). Well, okay, maybe twice a year, I make the bed before we have a party … but only because I need the space for purses and coats, and who wants to see our rumpled sheets? But you know what? It’s really not the point.
Getting organized is all the rage now, and, yes, it is important – necessary even – to have a level of organization that lets you get through your day without a nervous breakdown and without hours spent looking for that really important research or form you need and know you have somewhere. A while back, one of the number one emailed articles from The New York Times was “Saying Yes to Mess.” According to the article, “an anti-anticlutter movement is afoot, one that says yes to mess and urges you to embrace your disorder.” All the nice folks quoted in the article talk about having more urgent things to worry about, looking for creativity in chaos, saving time by not spending it organizing, etc., etc., etc.
I agree. Creative isn’t synonymous with neat, and you probably do have more important things to do than organize your filing cabinet with color-coded folders. But here’s the thing: the NYT article (and most people) miss the point because being organized isn’t really about less mess anyway. It’s about, well, just less.
Who cares how you “organize” the stuff you need? As an organizer, if a client can find what she needs when she needs it, I’ve done my job. What matters is how much people have that they don’t particularly need.
About a year ago, I did a “brutal purge” of my home. I let go of tons of things that I once thought were really important or would come in handy “some day.” It was hard, and I thought I would miss some of the things. The truth? I haven’t thought about them since other than to think of the great feeling I got when I gave some of the items to someone who really needed them right then. And it is amazing how much easier it is for me to be organized when I do not have all of those things.
Consider what you have … then consider what you need (and that includes those special items that you really, really want). It’s much easier to find what you need when you need it if all you have is what you need. Then, it really doesn’t matter so much whether you’re looking in color-coded filing cabinets or in piles.
So here’s my message to you: say yes to mess if you want, but also say yes to less. And you’ll find, I think, that when all you have is what you need and love, you have enough.
I am constantly asking clients to get rid of things. (And when I come home from working with them, as I told SciWonk, I often want to give away everything I own as a reaction to all my clients’ stuff!!) I push them to “love it, use it, or lose it.” I’m also big on “reduce, reuse, recycle,” and you’ll note that the first tenet is REDUCE.
So SciWonk’s post about “enough” got me thinking again about an issue that I return to over and over. I think of it as the less-is-more concept.
I’m a big believer in asking the right questions, and I think that when it comes to stuff, too many of us ask “how much do I need?” or “how much is enough?” The better question is not so easy to define, and I think really involves how little we need and how little is enough. From what I’ve seen with my clients and personally experienced, it really boils down to what you want out of life. Do you want a life controlled by stuff or do you want a life controlled by you?
I see so many people trapped in clutter, and, let me tell you, physical clutter is a sign of mental decision-making paralysis. When you do not know what is important to you, you cannot decide what to keep and what to toss. You end up with a lot of clutter, a lot of stuff, and you’re never sure what is “enough.” When you can decide what is important to you, life gets a lot simpler and a lot less cluttered and what is “enough” becomes a lot more clear.
See, the real issue for most of my clients isn’t that they’re messy, it’s that they have too much stuff. Messy is fine. Though I’m organized, I’m no paragon of neatness. In fact, I am a mess. There are very often dust bunnies on my stairs and under my bed. My desk has a pile of stuff to eBay on it. At the moment I type this, dirty dishes sit in the sink and DD’s toys are scattered around. And I never make my bed (sorry Mom). Well, okay, maybe twice a year, I make the bed before we have a party … but only because I need the space for purses and coats, and who wants to see our rumpled sheets? But you know what? It’s really not the point.
Getting organized is all the rage now, and, yes, it is important – necessary even – to have a level of organization that lets you get through your day without a nervous breakdown and without hours spent looking for that really important research or form you need and know you have somewhere. A while back, one of the number one emailed articles from The New York Times was “Saying Yes to Mess.” According to the article, “an anti-anticlutter movement is afoot, one that says yes to mess and urges you to embrace your disorder.” All the nice folks quoted in the article talk about having more urgent things to worry about, looking for creativity in chaos, saving time by not spending it organizing, etc., etc., etc.
I agree. Creative isn’t synonymous with neat, and you probably do have more important things to do than organize your filing cabinet with color-coded folders. But here’s the thing: the NYT article (and most people) miss the point because being organized isn’t really about less mess anyway. It’s about, well, just less.
Who cares how you “organize” the stuff you need? As an organizer, if a client can find what she needs when she needs it, I’ve done my job. What matters is how much people have that they don’t particularly need.
About a year ago, I did a “brutal purge” of my home. I let go of tons of things that I once thought were really important or would come in handy “some day.” It was hard, and I thought I would miss some of the things. The truth? I haven’t thought about them since other than to think of the great feeling I got when I gave some of the items to someone who really needed them right then. And it is amazing how much easier it is for me to be organized when I do not have all of those things.
Consider what you have … then consider what you need (and that includes those special items that you really, really want). It’s much easier to find what you need when you need it if all you have is what you need. Then, it really doesn’t matter so much whether you’re looking in color-coded filing cabinets or in piles.
So here’s my message to you: say yes to mess if you want, but also say yes to less. And you’ll find, I think, that when all you have is what you need and love, you have enough.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Being Intellectually Honest
The talk among the swing-set crowd is often about preschool these days. The oldest children in DD’s little playgroup, the ones who have been in almost since its inception, are now over two. To date, most of them have been cared for at home full-time by a parent, though some have had some limited time with nannies, in a mother’s day out program, or in daycare. In the fall, many of them will be heading off to brightly colored rooms filled with small tables and chairs, art supplies, picture books, ABC charts, and cubbies for half-days of songs, arts and crafts, and lessons on numbers and letters.
DD is not going to preschool in the fall, and she’s in the definite minority. It seems that most children today are going to preschool by age three. In our playgroup, DD is one of only three children in that age group (that I know of) not going to preschool in the fall. I am, on occasion, asked why my family decided not to “do the preschool thing” (though not usually by my fellow playgroup members).
On the whole, I have no problem with preschool, particularly in a setting with well-trained caregivers and lots of time for play. I’ve done a lot of reading on early-childhood education recently, and I’ve listened to other parents talk about sending their little ones off to preschool. Preschool seems great for some kids (particularly, according to the research I’ve read, those who come from less affluent and less educated homes), and it’s convenient and helpful for parents who want or need to work. All the research shows that there’s no harm in quality preschool childcare programs.
So why don’t we send DD happily on her way to the world of songs, crafts, letters, and numbers?
Primarily, my husband and I don’t want or need preschool in order to work. We structure our work schedule around our family life and work from home a great deal. We are very, very lucky both because we are our own bosses and can take such liberty with our schedule and because we have the invaluable (and I mean truly priceless) support of his parents, who watch our daughter two half-days and one full day a week to give me dedicated time in the office. We view preschool as an option, not as a must, and it is an option we don’t need to exercise.
In addition, the reality is that DD is doing just fine at home, and we don’t think she would gain any benefit from attending preschool. She loves to read and color; she’s learning her numbers and colors; she sings the ABC song and just about anything else she hears; she dances around the house; she makes jokes and laughs at just about everything. In short, she does everything that she should be doing right now, developmentally.
She’s also very creative, and, frankly, we don’t want to quash that quality in her. The way we see it, DD has thirteen years of compulsory education and probably at least four years of voluntary post-secondary education ahead of her. That’s plenty of time for her to have structured learning time, time in which someone else tells her how to see the world and why. At her age, she is learning in a purely experiential way that may never be available to her again. And no one is telling her that she can’t stop counting at five and go back to one but has to go on to ten, or that the ABC song doesn’t end at Q, or that the real way to dance like a ballerina is with her toes pointed just so. We want her to continue to love learning.
Lots of parents talk about the social benefits of preschool. We believe those thirteen-plus years of education are also plenty of time for DD to socialize. My observation is that the vast majority of children DD’s age have zero interest in what adults consider “being social.” DD loves being around other children – her “fwiends” – but she does mostly parallel play alongside them and very little direct play with them. In other words, in big groups, she tends to go about her own business. With one other child, she’ll briefly chat or hold hands or jointly play with some toys. The child-development literature indicates that this behavior is normal, and we don’t believe that putting DD into a setting with a group of other children every day will change this behavior because it’s just developmentally where she’s at.
The ultimate point is that we chose the life we are living, and it just doesn’t involve a structured preschool program at this point. I find, though, in listening to other parents, that some of them seem to be intellectually dishonest with themselves about these choices we all make as parents. They infer with worried questioning or even raised eyebrows that we are depriving our daughter in some way by not getting her on the school path early. But I also sense a lot of guilt – about choosing to send a child to preschool or daycare, about wanting to work, or, for those who don’t have a paying job, about simply wanting time for oneself.
I believe that many parents have been convinced (or have convinced themselves) that preschool is the absolute best thing to do for a child and that not sending a child to preschool will deprive her of some vital experience, some vital advantage. In my own neighborhood, dozens of parents recently camped out along the street in front of the neighborhood elementary school for three days solely to be one of the first twenty in line to sign their children up for the free pre-kindergarten program for four-year-olds. Some of them surely needed free childcare to enable them to work. But an article in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution on the queue indicated that at least some of the parents lined up because they felt pre-k was in some way, necessary for their children rather than for their own lifestyle choices.
This conviction seems not borne out by the literature, at least not for the children of the type of middle class families that live in our neighborhood and run in our social circles. It seems, instead, like something sold to parents to justify the high cost of preschool (there were only twenty slots for the free program at our local school, and most programs run $5,000-plus a year). And it seems like something that parents are willing to believe simply so that they don’t feel bad about doing whatever it is that they need or want to do, which will necessitate the child going to preschool.
My response: Well, get over it! We all make choices. Live with them. Maybe preschool will give a child an edge in early elementary school (though most studies seem to show that any such advantage is lost by third grade, where genetic abilities and socioeconomic class erase any temporary advantages). Maybe DD is missing out on that (temporary) advantage, but I’m fine with that. I’m not really concerned about DD being top student in her kindergarten class. She’ll be fine, whether she’s reading when she goes into kindergarten or not. I have no guilt over our decision, even if it does turn out the DD is a little behind the other kids in kindergarten as far as her knowledge base goes.
The reality is that a quality childcare program won’t harm a child but neither will keeping a child at home while others go to preschool. So, a parent who wants to work should work. Everyone deserves the opportunity to find personal fulfillment through work, even parents! A stay-at-home parent who just wants a few hours a day of peace and quiet and time to run errands and maybe take a breath that isn’t subject to the demands of a two– or three-year-old, should take that time. I don’t blame them! Regardless of the choice, though, a parent should feel free to send a child off to preschool or keep her at home guilt-free.
Let’s just all be honest about what we’re doing and why.
DD is not going to preschool in the fall, and she’s in the definite minority. It seems that most children today are going to preschool by age three. In our playgroup, DD is one of only three children in that age group (that I know of) not going to preschool in the fall. I am, on occasion, asked why my family decided not to “do the preschool thing” (though not usually by my fellow playgroup members).
On the whole, I have no problem with preschool, particularly in a setting with well-trained caregivers and lots of time for play. I’ve done a lot of reading on early-childhood education recently, and I’ve listened to other parents talk about sending their little ones off to preschool. Preschool seems great for some kids (particularly, according to the research I’ve read, those who come from less affluent and less educated homes), and it’s convenient and helpful for parents who want or need to work. All the research shows that there’s no harm in quality preschool childcare programs.
So why don’t we send DD happily on her way to the world of songs, crafts, letters, and numbers?
Primarily, my husband and I don’t want or need preschool in order to work. We structure our work schedule around our family life and work from home a great deal. We are very, very lucky both because we are our own bosses and can take such liberty with our schedule and because we have the invaluable (and I mean truly priceless) support of his parents, who watch our daughter two half-days and one full day a week to give me dedicated time in the office. We view preschool as an option, not as a must, and it is an option we don’t need to exercise.
In addition, the reality is that DD is doing just fine at home, and we don’t think she would gain any benefit from attending preschool. She loves to read and color; she’s learning her numbers and colors; she sings the ABC song and just about anything else she hears; she dances around the house; she makes jokes and laughs at just about everything. In short, she does everything that she should be doing right now, developmentally.
She’s also very creative, and, frankly, we don’t want to quash that quality in her. The way we see it, DD has thirteen years of compulsory education and probably at least four years of voluntary post-secondary education ahead of her. That’s plenty of time for her to have structured learning time, time in which someone else tells her how to see the world and why. At her age, she is learning in a purely experiential way that may never be available to her again. And no one is telling her that she can’t stop counting at five and go back to one but has to go on to ten, or that the ABC song doesn’t end at Q, or that the real way to dance like a ballerina is with her toes pointed just so. We want her to continue to love learning.
Lots of parents talk about the social benefits of preschool. We believe those thirteen-plus years of education are also plenty of time for DD to socialize. My observation is that the vast majority of children DD’s age have zero interest in what adults consider “being social.” DD loves being around other children – her “fwiends” – but she does mostly parallel play alongside them and very little direct play with them. In other words, in big groups, she tends to go about her own business. With one other child, she’ll briefly chat or hold hands or jointly play with some toys. The child-development literature indicates that this behavior is normal, and we don’t believe that putting DD into a setting with a group of other children every day will change this behavior because it’s just developmentally where she’s at.
The ultimate point is that we chose the life we are living, and it just doesn’t involve a structured preschool program at this point. I find, though, in listening to other parents, that some of them seem to be intellectually dishonest with themselves about these choices we all make as parents. They infer with worried questioning or even raised eyebrows that we are depriving our daughter in some way by not getting her on the school path early. But I also sense a lot of guilt – about choosing to send a child to preschool or daycare, about wanting to work, or, for those who don’t have a paying job, about simply wanting time for oneself.
I believe that many parents have been convinced (or have convinced themselves) that preschool is the absolute best thing to do for a child and that not sending a child to preschool will deprive her of some vital experience, some vital advantage. In my own neighborhood, dozens of parents recently camped out along the street in front of the neighborhood elementary school for three days solely to be one of the first twenty in line to sign their children up for the free pre-kindergarten program for four-year-olds. Some of them surely needed free childcare to enable them to work. But an article in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution on the queue indicated that at least some of the parents lined up because they felt pre-k was in some way, necessary for their children rather than for their own lifestyle choices.
This conviction seems not borne out by the literature, at least not for the children of the type of middle class families that live in our neighborhood and run in our social circles. It seems, instead, like something sold to parents to justify the high cost of preschool (there were only twenty slots for the free program at our local school, and most programs run $5,000-plus a year). And it seems like something that parents are willing to believe simply so that they don’t feel bad about doing whatever it is that they need or want to do, which will necessitate the child going to preschool.
My response: Well, get over it! We all make choices. Live with them. Maybe preschool will give a child an edge in early elementary school (though most studies seem to show that any such advantage is lost by third grade, where genetic abilities and socioeconomic class erase any temporary advantages). Maybe DD is missing out on that (temporary) advantage, but I’m fine with that. I’m not really concerned about DD being top student in her kindergarten class. She’ll be fine, whether she’s reading when she goes into kindergarten or not. I have no guilt over our decision, even if it does turn out the DD is a little behind the other kids in kindergarten as far as her knowledge base goes.
The reality is that a quality childcare program won’t harm a child but neither will keeping a child at home while others go to preschool. So, a parent who wants to work should work. Everyone deserves the opportunity to find personal fulfillment through work, even parents! A stay-at-home parent who just wants a few hours a day of peace and quiet and time to run errands and maybe take a breath that isn’t subject to the demands of a two– or three-year-old, should take that time. I don’t blame them! Regardless of the choice, though, a parent should feel free to send a child off to preschool or keep her at home guilt-free.
Let’s just all be honest about what we’re doing and why.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
We’re Not Losing. We’re Just Playing a Different Game.
You have read the statistics. You know the score. Women hold only 11.1% of board seats in the Fortune 500; only 11.2% of corporate officers are women, http://www.breaktheglassceiling.com/statistics-women.htm, yet, in 2006, women were 46% of the U. S. labor force and 51% of all workers in the high-paying management, professional, and related occupations. http://www.dol.gov/wb/factsheets/Qf-laborforce-06.htm. In the game of business, women just aren’t hitting the homeruns. They’re not going for the gold. Not winning the game.
Well, I have decided that it’s time someone stood up and said what some of you are probably thinking (and certainly what I’m thinking): WHO CARES!! Don’t get me wrong. I am not complacent about women’s role in big business. I firmly believe that women should be swinging the bat in these high-profile, big-money positions – if they want to be in that game.
But what about all of the women (and men!) who don’t want to play that type of game? What about the people who want to take full advantage of the choices that are supposedly available in our modern society?
The fundamental problem is not that women are not winning at the game of business. The fundamental problem is that we have all failed to recognize that many women ARE SIMPLY PLAYING A DIFFERENT GAME.
So, here is where maybe I am a radical: I believe that success must be redefined; it’s time for a paradigm shift, for the recognition that it is a whole new ballgame in the world of business. And until we do so – until we develop an idea of success that truly values the different choices that people make – and until we extend that definition to everyone, women and men, the strides we have made are meaningless.
In the wake of the women’s movement of the 60s and 70s, we have not lost sight of the fact that it’s all about choice: choice to work, choice to work at a particular job, choice to stay home, choice to make your own path. Almost every little girl now grows up hearing, “Girls can be anything!”
What we have failed to do, however, is to incorporate all of the myriad choices into our definition of success. In spite of our greater choice about how to integrate our personal and professional lives, we have continued to place value only on the choices that have traditionally been valued. Sure, you can stay home if you want to and raise a great family full-time, or you can work part-time or in some alternative schedule, or you can embark upon some “alternative” career, a “choose your own adventure” job. But, in the game of business (and in the bigger game of life), we as a society have continued to say that if you don’t win the traditional game the traditional way, you’re still a failure.
Think about it. Writers on the topic lament that women who go part-time in their work (and, I would argue, remain full-time in their personal lives!) are not “getting ahead.” They are not succeeding. Why? Because they are often not getting the same type of work or pay as full-time counterparts. But we have to ask whether that is so bad. Could these women be succeeding in a way that is not being considered? Could there be trade-offs for lower pay and different work that make these women just as successful as their full-time counterparts?
So how do we get to some new rules for defining the game?
First of all, can we please admit that there’s no such thing as “work/life balance?” For the vast majority of us (Paris Hilton and her compatriots excepted), work is part of life. It is not something we do when we’re not living our lives. If that were the case, then most of us are spending most of our days doing something other than living! Work is, however, something that must be balanced with the demands of our personal lives – our families, our friends, our pets, our hobbies. I know it may seem to be semantics, but it’s difficult to discuss making your work and the rest of your life balance if we keep, at least linguistically, separating work out from “life.”
To borrow a term from a life coach friend, I prefer the idea of integration. What we’re striving to do is not so much balance our “work” with our “life” but to integrate our work into our lives in a meaningful, fulfilling way. This leaves open the possibility for various levels of commitment to work – flextime, part-time, full-time, all-the-time – and to personal pursuits – parents, children, siblings, other family, friends, hobbies, religious avocations, etc.
Once you embrace the concept of integration, the next step is accepting that there is such a thing as being successfully integrated, just successful at being. Every person, if she wants it, deserves a job that at least brings in the bacon even if it doesn’t make her blissfully happy to head off to work in the morning and the opportunity to take that job to her ultimate level of compensation and authority. But every person also deserves the opportunity to find additional fulfillment in other areas of her life.
Maybe those women holding the 11.1% of board seats (and the men holding the other 88.9% as well) are terrific people with fantastic personal lives or maybe they’re total drudges tied their job with no other real connection to anything. And maybe all those women NOT sitting in corner offices and running big companies or law firms are trapped by the glass ceiling, held back by their demanding families and complicated choices, or maybe they’re incredibly fulfilled in ways that money can’t compensate. Either way, we need to stop linking our idea of success to one aspect of these people’s lives!
Work is great, don’t get me wrong. If you’re one of those women who finds total fulfillment from work, who wants to play that traditional game and go for the big bucks and the power position, more power to you. If you’re one of those women who wants to work part-time and spend part of your time volunteering, at home pursuing a hobby, caring for aging parents, or raising children – go for it! Want to stay at home full time? Yay, you!
Regardless of the choice, what we need to start doing is focusing more on the success of someone’s overall life not just one aspect of it. We need to recognize that having a healthy relationship with one’s spouse, any children, parents, other family members, and friends is just as “successful” – and requires just as much work, sometimes more! – as bringing home a six-figure paycheck from a high ranking job. In addition, the truly integrated person recognizes that a huge aspect of success is being in a healthy relationship with oneself – doing the things that make one feel healthy, content, satisfied, happy, challenged, whether that’s the job or the family and friends thing or a favorite activity outside of work.
Really, isn’t that what we want to be remembered for when we’re long gone and all we are is memories and passed-along stories in the minds of our children and grandchildren and beyond – for who we were as people and not what job we held and how much money we made??
Well, I have decided that it’s time someone stood up and said what some of you are probably thinking (and certainly what I’m thinking): WHO CARES!! Don’t get me wrong. I am not complacent about women’s role in big business. I firmly believe that women should be swinging the bat in these high-profile, big-money positions – if they want to be in that game.
But what about all of the women (and men!) who don’t want to play that type of game? What about the people who want to take full advantage of the choices that are supposedly available in our modern society?
The fundamental problem is not that women are not winning at the game of business. The fundamental problem is that we have all failed to recognize that many women ARE SIMPLY PLAYING A DIFFERENT GAME.
So, here is where maybe I am a radical: I believe that success must be redefined; it’s time for a paradigm shift, for the recognition that it is a whole new ballgame in the world of business. And until we do so – until we develop an idea of success that truly values the different choices that people make – and until we extend that definition to everyone, women and men, the strides we have made are meaningless.
In the wake of the women’s movement of the 60s and 70s, we have not lost sight of the fact that it’s all about choice: choice to work, choice to work at a particular job, choice to stay home, choice to make your own path. Almost every little girl now grows up hearing, “Girls can be anything!”
What we have failed to do, however, is to incorporate all of the myriad choices into our definition of success. In spite of our greater choice about how to integrate our personal and professional lives, we have continued to place value only on the choices that have traditionally been valued. Sure, you can stay home if you want to and raise a great family full-time, or you can work part-time or in some alternative schedule, or you can embark upon some “alternative” career, a “choose your own adventure” job. But, in the game of business (and in the bigger game of life), we as a society have continued to say that if you don’t win the traditional game the traditional way, you’re still a failure.
Think about it. Writers on the topic lament that women who go part-time in their work (and, I would argue, remain full-time in their personal lives!) are not “getting ahead.” They are not succeeding. Why? Because they are often not getting the same type of work or pay as full-time counterparts. But we have to ask whether that is so bad. Could these women be succeeding in a way that is not being considered? Could there be trade-offs for lower pay and different work that make these women just as successful as their full-time counterparts?
So how do we get to some new rules for defining the game?
First of all, can we please admit that there’s no such thing as “work/life balance?” For the vast majority of us (Paris Hilton and her compatriots excepted), work is part of life. It is not something we do when we’re not living our lives. If that were the case, then most of us are spending most of our days doing something other than living! Work is, however, something that must be balanced with the demands of our personal lives – our families, our friends, our pets, our hobbies. I know it may seem to be semantics, but it’s difficult to discuss making your work and the rest of your life balance if we keep, at least linguistically, separating work out from “life.”
To borrow a term from a life coach friend, I prefer the idea of integration. What we’re striving to do is not so much balance our “work” with our “life” but to integrate our work into our lives in a meaningful, fulfilling way. This leaves open the possibility for various levels of commitment to work – flextime, part-time, full-time, all-the-time – and to personal pursuits – parents, children, siblings, other family, friends, hobbies, religious avocations, etc.
Once you embrace the concept of integration, the next step is accepting that there is such a thing as being successfully integrated, just successful at being. Every person, if she wants it, deserves a job that at least brings in the bacon even if it doesn’t make her blissfully happy to head off to work in the morning and the opportunity to take that job to her ultimate level of compensation and authority. But every person also deserves the opportunity to find additional fulfillment in other areas of her life.
Maybe those women holding the 11.1% of board seats (and the men holding the other 88.9% as well) are terrific people with fantastic personal lives or maybe they’re total drudges tied their job with no other real connection to anything. And maybe all those women NOT sitting in corner offices and running big companies or law firms are trapped by the glass ceiling, held back by their demanding families and complicated choices, or maybe they’re incredibly fulfilled in ways that money can’t compensate. Either way, we need to stop linking our idea of success to one aspect of these people’s lives!
Work is great, don’t get me wrong. If you’re one of those women who finds total fulfillment from work, who wants to play that traditional game and go for the big bucks and the power position, more power to you. If you’re one of those women who wants to work part-time and spend part of your time volunteering, at home pursuing a hobby, caring for aging parents, or raising children – go for it! Want to stay at home full time? Yay, you!
Regardless of the choice, what we need to start doing is focusing more on the success of someone’s overall life not just one aspect of it. We need to recognize that having a healthy relationship with one’s spouse, any children, parents, other family members, and friends is just as “successful” – and requires just as much work, sometimes more! – as bringing home a six-figure paycheck from a high ranking job. In addition, the truly integrated person recognizes that a huge aspect of success is being in a healthy relationship with oneself – doing the things that make one feel healthy, content, satisfied, happy, challenged, whether that’s the job or the family and friends thing or a favorite activity outside of work.
Really, isn’t that what we want to be remembered for when we’re long gone and all we are is memories and passed-along stories in the minds of our children and grandchildren and beyond – for who we were as people and not what job we held and how much money we made??
Friday, April 25, 2008
Long Live Letterwriting (Letterwriting Is Dead)
Dear friends:
It has occurred to me that the art of letter-writing seems to be, if not dead, then in a persistent vegetative state, unlikely to be revived during our lifetimes. This reflection, I admit, causes me some sorrow, though I am at least in part complicit in the casualty, having resorted to brief and largely unsatisfactory email messages to maintain contact with friends and loved ones in recent years.
During my youth, I exchanged countless letters with friends whom I met at various summer camps. In college, I had a lively correspondence with my dearest friend from high school. In a way, I was a lonely adolescent, and these friendships, nurtured and maintained through correspondence, provided a companionship that I did not have with many other young people within physical proximity. Through letters, I connected in a way that I could not through personal contact.
As any letter-writer knows, writing letters is a time-consuming task. Not only must one take the time to put pen to paper, which takes more time than typing (I am taking the easy way out at this moment, I regretfully confess), but one must also have SOMETHING TO SAY. Letters must be composed or risk being boring. They must be chatty and convey news, not a simple “how are you?” otherwise why waste the postage. But I eagerly put pen to paper as a child and teenager, mailed my letters, and awaited a response from my friends. I attempted, in a way that I do not with email, to infuse each letter with a sense of fun. I felt the duty to entertain my friends or at least to convey something REAL about my life at the time, to share rather than to “check in.”
Over time, my number of correspondents dropped from many to a few. One day, I simply did not receive a response, or, more rarely, I confess, I did not write back, feeling the pull of other more pressing demands on my time. I often wonder whether, if I had met those same friends in the age of email, the number of friendships retained through email correspondence would have been greater or fewer, richer or poorer for the medium. For, while the numbers of friends with whom I wrote on a regular basis dwindled, the quality of the friendships strengthened.
One is still a dear friend to this day, though our lives have taken us in different directions. We keep in touch through email, but I admit that something does seem to be missing, something that was present in all those letters. The loss of another friend – not to anything tragic mind you, but simply to a lack of time to maintain our correspondence once we entered college – still saddens me all these years later. We touched based a couple of times in our adulthood – I found her online and connected through email – but the correspondence has been brief, and, again, lacked some quality of our early confidentiality on paper.
And those letters remain, wrapped in ribbon, stored in a box in the closet of my office. As I have gotten older, I have let go of much of the detritus of my childhood and teenage years, but these, these lovely reminders of a bygone time, I cannot bear to release. What is it about letters that satisfies some deep need that electronic correspondence cannot seem to appease?
It has occurred to me that the art of letter-writing seems to be, if not dead, then in a persistent vegetative state, unlikely to be revived during our lifetimes. This reflection, I admit, causes me some sorrow, though I am at least in part complicit in the casualty, having resorted to brief and largely unsatisfactory email messages to maintain contact with friends and loved ones in recent years.
During my youth, I exchanged countless letters with friends whom I met at various summer camps. In college, I had a lively correspondence with my dearest friend from high school. In a way, I was a lonely adolescent, and these friendships, nurtured and maintained through correspondence, provided a companionship that I did not have with many other young people within physical proximity. Through letters, I connected in a way that I could not through personal contact.
As any letter-writer knows, writing letters is a time-consuming task. Not only must one take the time to put pen to paper, which takes more time than typing (I am taking the easy way out at this moment, I regretfully confess), but one must also have SOMETHING TO SAY. Letters must be composed or risk being boring. They must be chatty and convey news, not a simple “how are you?” otherwise why waste the postage. But I eagerly put pen to paper as a child and teenager, mailed my letters, and awaited a response from my friends. I attempted, in a way that I do not with email, to infuse each letter with a sense of fun. I felt the duty to entertain my friends or at least to convey something REAL about my life at the time, to share rather than to “check in.”
Over time, my number of correspondents dropped from many to a few. One day, I simply did not receive a response, or, more rarely, I confess, I did not write back, feeling the pull of other more pressing demands on my time. I often wonder whether, if I had met those same friends in the age of email, the number of friendships retained through email correspondence would have been greater or fewer, richer or poorer for the medium. For, while the numbers of friends with whom I wrote on a regular basis dwindled, the quality of the friendships strengthened.
One is still a dear friend to this day, though our lives have taken us in different directions. We keep in touch through email, but I admit that something does seem to be missing, something that was present in all those letters. The loss of another friend – not to anything tragic mind you, but simply to a lack of time to maintain our correspondence once we entered college – still saddens me all these years later. We touched based a couple of times in our adulthood – I found her online and connected through email – but the correspondence has been brief, and, again, lacked some quality of our early confidentiality on paper.
And those letters remain, wrapped in ribbon, stored in a box in the closet of my office. As I have gotten older, I have let go of much of the detritus of my childhood and teenage years, but these, these lovely reminders of a bygone time, I cannot bear to release. What is it about letters that satisfies some deep need that electronic correspondence cannot seem to appease?
Thursday, April 24, 2008
The Cost of Living Lighter
Sippy cups. Cute plastic sippy cups have been dominating my thoughts recently. Those of you not in the "we've made a baby and now we have to save her and the whole planet" world of parenthood may not have heard about this issue, but it is all over, and I mean ALL OVER, blogs and boards and listserves for parents, particularly those of the green persuasion. The brouhaha? Bisphenol A, an endocrine disrupter, appears to be leaching from plastics, specifically from many plastics used to make sippy cups and other baby and toddler eating and drinking paraphernalia.
Prior to having my darling daughter ("DD" for those of you not in on the parenting blog lingo), if I had even heard about this issue, I probably would have given the uproar little thought, maybe switched my plastic water bottle to a sturdy aluminum one. But now, surrounded by an overabundance of plastic sippy cups sporting cute pictures of Elmo gamboling with his Sesame Street pals, I have to think about this issue. Am I a bad mama if I don't toss all those adorable Elmo mugs in favor of something more reproductive-health-friendly? Do I need to switch ALL our plastics?? What about what my husband and I drink and eat out of??? And if I do need to switch, to what? And at what cost?
It's amazing how, when I had a child, I began to think about things I'd never really considered before; things that before seemed matters of convenience now take on greater importance. Here's how it started for me: when DD began eating solid foods, I took a really hard look at food labels. Oh sure, hubby and I ate pretty healthy, pesca-vegetarian food prior to DD coming along; we ate organic when we could afford it, but I wasn't really a label reader. Mayo is mayo right?
But, like many other first-time moms, I worried about DD. What if what she ate made her hit puberty early? Develop cancer? Have a lifetime of food and health issues all created by Mama's terrible food choices? Ok, so that sounds a little more neurotic than I actually was, but I did begin to look for more organic options, options without the ubiquitous corn syrup, options with ingredients I could pronounce (or at least understand the reason for inclusion -- I mean, I do have a biology degree so I'm not a total chemical moron OR chemical-phobe). And not only for her, because, really, if it wasn't good enough to put in my child's body, then why would it be good enough to put in mine or my husband's?
This interest in organic foods and DD's health lead to contemplation of other, related issues. I mean, if we're going to do what we can to give her a healthier and LONGER life, don't we need to do more to give her a lovely, clean environment in which to live that long, healthy life? Suddenly Jack Johnson's song about the 3 R's (reduce, reuse, recycle) doesn't seem like just a cute ditty but a mantra for how we should be living. So we looked for ways to live lighter -- lighter in the sense of impact on the planet, lighter in the sense of how many possessions we own and bring into our house, lighter in the sense of how much our garbage bin weighs (as compared to our recycling bin).
Here's the kicker, though, living lighter has a cost. You trade getting mass quantities of email from Freecycle for having fewer things to take care of. You trade the smell of new books that are instantly available for only $12.95 a copy for the smell of library books that may have a waiting list of four months. You trade $0.99/pound conventional apples for $0.99/apple organic apples. And you waffle over some of the trade-offs: is it worth it to drive 40 miles to a recycling center that takes the items your friendly neighborhood recycling trucks do not? You trade a blissful clear conscience about throwing things away for guilt over the things that you can't recycle or change in your lifestyle.
For now, in the sippy cup dilemma, we're stuck with Elmo. I, doing my part, have looked -- there are no glass sippy cups. There is a metal one with mediocre reviews and a big price tag. DD needs cups with lids so she can cart her milk around without dribbling (did I say dribbling? no, DUMPING) milk all over Mama's not-so-spotless floors, and she loves that goofy red furry monster. Give her a few months and she'll be ready to drop the carry-around cup and switch for good to a real "little girl" glass.
So for now, for a little while longer, the trade off is a happy, spill-free daughter for a somewhat less light life.
Prior to having my darling daughter ("DD" for those of you not in on the parenting blog lingo), if I had even heard about this issue, I probably would have given the uproar little thought, maybe switched my plastic water bottle to a sturdy aluminum one. But now, surrounded by an overabundance of plastic sippy cups sporting cute pictures of Elmo gamboling with his Sesame Street pals, I have to think about this issue. Am I a bad mama if I don't toss all those adorable Elmo mugs in favor of something more reproductive-health-friendly? Do I need to switch ALL our plastics?? What about what my husband and I drink and eat out of??? And if I do need to switch, to what? And at what cost?
It's amazing how, when I had a child, I began to think about things I'd never really considered before; things that before seemed matters of convenience now take on greater importance. Here's how it started for me: when DD began eating solid foods, I took a really hard look at food labels. Oh sure, hubby and I ate pretty healthy, pesca-vegetarian food prior to DD coming along; we ate organic when we could afford it, but I wasn't really a label reader. Mayo is mayo right?
But, like many other first-time moms, I worried about DD. What if what she ate made her hit puberty early? Develop cancer? Have a lifetime of food and health issues all created by Mama's terrible food choices? Ok, so that sounds a little more neurotic than I actually was, but I did begin to look for more organic options, options without the ubiquitous corn syrup, options with ingredients I could pronounce (or at least understand the reason for inclusion -- I mean, I do have a biology degree so I'm not a total chemical moron OR chemical-phobe). And not only for her, because, really, if it wasn't good enough to put in my child's body, then why would it be good enough to put in mine or my husband's?
This interest in organic foods and DD's health lead to contemplation of other, related issues. I mean, if we're going to do what we can to give her a healthier and LONGER life, don't we need to do more to give her a lovely, clean environment in which to live that long, healthy life? Suddenly Jack Johnson's song about the 3 R's (reduce, reuse, recycle) doesn't seem like just a cute ditty but a mantra for how we should be living. So we looked for ways to live lighter -- lighter in the sense of impact on the planet, lighter in the sense of how many possessions we own and bring into our house, lighter in the sense of how much our garbage bin weighs (as compared to our recycling bin).
Here's the kicker, though, living lighter has a cost. You trade getting mass quantities of email from Freecycle for having fewer things to take care of. You trade the smell of new books that are instantly available for only $12.95 a copy for the smell of library books that may have a waiting list of four months. You trade $0.99/pound conventional apples for $0.99/apple organic apples. And you waffle over some of the trade-offs: is it worth it to drive 40 miles to a recycling center that takes the items your friendly neighborhood recycling trucks do not? You trade a blissful clear conscience about throwing things away for guilt over the things that you can't recycle or change in your lifestyle.
For now, in the sippy cup dilemma, we're stuck with Elmo. I, doing my part, have looked -- there are no glass sippy cups. There is a metal one with mediocre reviews and a big price tag. DD needs cups with lids so she can cart her milk around without dribbling (did I say dribbling? no, DUMPING) milk all over Mama's not-so-spotless floors, and she loves that goofy red furry monster. Give her a few months and she'll be ready to drop the carry-around cup and switch for good to a real "little girl" glass.
So for now, for a little while longer, the trade off is a happy, spill-free daughter for a somewhat less light life.
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