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.
Friday, August 22, 2008
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.
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