I don't want to sound like a whiny snot or an idiot, though I will, so I'll just accept it now. I do not understand how Mother's Day works now that I am a mother.
I mean, I get the call your mom part.
But when it comes to me, as a mother, I don't get it. Here specifically is what I don't get:
When your pregnant, everyone and their brother, especially anyone who is bound to get a promotion in relationship (as in grandparent or great-grandparent or aunt etc) calls and tells you Happy Mother's day. They even send small gifts of jewelry or nice cards or flowers.
Then you become an actual mother by delivering the child. Your husband is very sweet to you, especially if you're breastfeeding every hour still, because he is dumbfounded that you haven't actually put your child down since it was born. Except that briefest of five minutes for a hot shower when you insisted on washing your hair. Also, your best friend or sister tells you Happy Mother's Day, and all your friends that happen to be mothers say Happy Mother's Day as well as tell you what a great mom you are. You do the same to them (and you do mean it -you're not just saying it to stay in the club).
But the people who the year before sent small gifts and flowers? Your own mother or grandmother, not to mention mother-in-law and so on?
Nothing.
Not even a "And same to you" when you tell them Happy Mother's Day on your obligatory fire prevention phone call you do every year so that you don't spend your summer with a sulking and bitter mother.
As my 18 month old son says with accompanying hand motion, what gives?
Does it just work to the generation up with exceptions made when you're pregnant? So until I die, I will be telling my mother and mother-in-law happy mother's day and they never have to say it to me?
This is where I realize that no matter how old I get or how enlightened or how many yoga poses I master, when it comes to my relationship with my own mothers (actual, in-law, what have you) I am still 13 years old. I hate this. I hate being that woman who in all ways feels smart, accomplished and happy with her life, but inside, is still a 13 year old who wants approval. Not even the full stamp of approval like they do to beef in the supermarket, but just a half a sentence from one of the mothers saying happy mother's day. Oh, and they think I am a terrific mom, because my son is an utter delight to be around. Because he is.
My husband tells me often I am a great mom. And I think I am, not because I like to brag, but I do think I am a good mom to my son. He is a happy, sweet, smart, funny and all around awesome little boy, and I don't think he would be if I wasn't. He also hugs me often, which I think means he likes me.
I know, I know. Even as I have that voice in my head protesting, "Would it kill ya to wish me a nice mother's day?" I know, this is reward enough.
As always, in these icky-I-feel-like-a-bitch-but-I-do-kind-of-have-an-issue-here moments, I think (because I'm a mom and it's what moms do) what would I tell my son if it were him? And of course, I'd tell him approval be damned. Or in the words of my Thai fortune teller: the people who love you and understand you, love you and understand you. The people who love you and don't understand you, don't understand you.
So I'll just meditate on that as I strike a yoga pose.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
Does it have to be so hostile?
PBS recently ran a Frontline episode on vaccines, called "The Vaccine War." This is the kind of thing that drives me crazy - as if there aren't enough antagonizing issues out there especially in realm of parenting. I hate the word "war" and that it gets used in this kind of context, as if to suggest there is not room for all views or that the answer lies in one side trumping the other. Dr. Jay Gordon says as much in his response, "PBS, Shame on You." Dr. Gordon's view on vaccines is my favorite take on an usually positional and polarizing issue. He asks a lot of good questions about vaccines and the current vaccination schedule. He also finds value in both sides. Mostly, in the vaccine debate, it's the positional attitude each side takes that I hate. Even if I agree with one side or the other, I hate the attitude that one side is right while the other completely wrong.
Generally, in parenting, I think different things work for different families, and there is not a "one-size-fits-all" approach. In terms of vaccines, for us it came down to a series of choices we were making. If I wasn't going to breastfeed, or if our baby was going into a large daycare at six weeks old, then we would have made very different choices.
Mostly, it came down to our (really, my) gut feeling and I do agree with Dr. Gordon: all the shots that a 3 month old gets on the current schedule make me squemish. It seems like an awful lot of chemicals to be injecting into such a small body. Also, for me, there are still too many unknown questions about vaccines. Even if the research shows vaccines are not responsible for the increase in Autism, we cannot deny that there is a rise in Autism; it must be linked to something - if not, vaccines, then what?
The squemish feeling also comes as much from the big business side of vaccines (i.e. that the people researching them happen to be or related to the companies making and selling them) as the fear-based knee jerk reaction that dictate everyone needs them. Last year's Swine flu debacle may serve as an example of the fear that circulates around illnesses and their vaccines.
So we put them off. We put off all his shots. Then we traveled.
It is our traveling that has people ask our take on vaccines. I did do a lot of research before our child was born and before we traveled. Before all my research, I knew that I was not worried about my child contracting polio. After all my research and confirming that we are not going to any of the remote villages in the four remaining countries where polio still exists, I still am not worried about my child contracting polio. Also, we continue to do research as we travel. We always check the WHO website before going to a new place. It's never a fully resolved issue - but what is in parenting? The sting of parenting does mean that you always question if you made the right choice even as you know you made the right choice with the information you had at that moment.
Our doctor in Singapore (Singapore does heavily vaccinate no questions asked) was rare in that she respected our views and even, quietly, agreed with them. She said, usually Singapore pediatricians would give us a hard time and if we stayed in Singapore, our son would have to get his shots to go to school. But she also said, regardless of where we go, he's fine without them. And, at 18 months, our son is still breastfed, and we ensure that his diet is nutritious and unprocessed to keep his immune system strong. Again, it's a series of choices...
Generally, in parenting, I think different things work for different families, and there is not a "one-size-fits-all" approach. In terms of vaccines, for us it came down to a series of choices we were making. If I wasn't going to breastfeed, or if our baby was going into a large daycare at six weeks old, then we would have made very different choices.
Mostly, it came down to our (really, my) gut feeling and I do agree with Dr. Gordon: all the shots that a 3 month old gets on the current schedule make me squemish. It seems like an awful lot of chemicals to be injecting into such a small body. Also, for me, there are still too many unknown questions about vaccines. Even if the research shows vaccines are not responsible for the increase in Autism, we cannot deny that there is a rise in Autism; it must be linked to something - if not, vaccines, then what?
The squemish feeling also comes as much from the big business side of vaccines (i.e. that the people researching them happen to be or related to the companies making and selling them) as the fear-based knee jerk reaction that dictate everyone needs them. Last year's Swine flu debacle may serve as an example of the fear that circulates around illnesses and their vaccines.
So we put them off. We put off all his shots. Then we traveled.
It is our traveling that has people ask our take on vaccines. I did do a lot of research before our child was born and before we traveled. Before all my research, I knew that I was not worried about my child contracting polio. After all my research and confirming that we are not going to any of the remote villages in the four remaining countries where polio still exists, I still am not worried about my child contracting polio. Also, we continue to do research as we travel. We always check the WHO website before going to a new place. It's never a fully resolved issue - but what is in parenting? The sting of parenting does mean that you always question if you made the right choice even as you know you made the right choice with the information you had at that moment.
Our doctor in Singapore (Singapore does heavily vaccinate no questions asked) was rare in that she respected our views and even, quietly, agreed with them. She said, usually Singapore pediatricians would give us a hard time and if we stayed in Singapore, our son would have to get his shots to go to school. But she also said, regardless of where we go, he's fine without them. And, at 18 months, our son is still breastfed, and we ensure that his diet is nutritious and unprocessed to keep his immune system strong. Again, it's a series of choices...
Friday, April 23, 2010
Our Foray into Toilet Training
While I've been wanting to toilet train our toddling tot earlier rather than later (I have no interest in having a four year old in diapers), our foray into the toilet training realm began unceremoniously one afternoon when Fyo began to fight getting his diaper changed. What I mean by this, is that he would either kick nonstop or run away until I chased him down. I hate power struggles, so I said, "Fine. You don't like your diaper changed then I'll take away the diapers." After this, at home he went naked from the waist down. We then began to introduce his toilet chair into the routine as well. So he goes to the toilet when we first wake up in the morning or after naps, before bath time and so on. The first day he wasn't so sure about sitting on the toilet chair, but it wasn't long before we had some successes. A couple times he stood up and clapped, then pointed to the toilet where we poured his toilet chair's contents and waved good-bye. At one point he was so amazed by his new found ability to pee into containers that he marched right into the kitchen and peed into the soup pot too.
According the experts, there are a few reasons why it was not a good time to attempt toilet training. The first is Fyo's chronic constipation. Experts generally agree to get your child past the constipation before beginning training. Other experts, however, suggest that it might actually help your child's constipation if he regularly sits on the toilet after meals and begins to learn to relax.
The other thing is that experts generally recommend beginning toilet training when there is nothing else going on in the household, like for instance over a summer when no other activities are going on. We were two weeks away from moving, not just houses but countries, from Singapore to Bali. And, upon arrival in Bali, we would stay in a couple different places.
Now we're in Bali, in our second place of stay, and I have to say, Fyo is doing great. Plenty of my friends have told me to when in doubt, follow your intuition and respond to your child's cues even at the expense of experts. We brought his toilet chair with us (it is the green plastic five dollar number from Ikea) and in each new place it comes out of the suitcase and goes in the bathroom. He then knows where to find it. Granted, it helps immensely that we chose a place to live where even when it pouring rain, it is warm enough for Fyo to go without pants. After he wakes up in the morning, we take off his diaper and he goes without (even during his naptime and he stays dry - and I guess the day that he doesn't, well, we'll be glad we're using somebody else's bed). He does wear a diaper to his three hours of nursery school, and most the time, he wears his swim diaper (one of the reusable swim trunks kind) in the pool. We do have the old fashioned kind of cotton training pants because I do not understand the point of pull-ups disposable diapers; I want him to feel when he's wet, not have it disappear as if he had just peed in a swimming pool. When he gets more fluent in being able to tell us when he has to go, then we'll start using them.
But the biggest reason why I am so glad we continued on the path? The cost of diapers in Bali. Despite being a relatively poor country, diapers are at least one and half times more expensive than they were in Singapore and I suspect the reason is because the locals don't use them. They follow the Elimination Communication path practiced by many in India and in parts of Asia. The second biggest reason why I'm glad? The waste we save. Fyo is 18 months old. With the average boy in the US achieving fluency in toilet training at 39 months - even if it does take us the traditional ten months for Fyo to get really facile, we still save a year's worth of diapers from the world's landfills.
According the experts, there are a few reasons why it was not a good time to attempt toilet training. The first is Fyo's chronic constipation. Experts generally agree to get your child past the constipation before beginning training. Other experts, however, suggest that it might actually help your child's constipation if he regularly sits on the toilet after meals and begins to learn to relax.
The other thing is that experts generally recommend beginning toilet training when there is nothing else going on in the household, like for instance over a summer when no other activities are going on. We were two weeks away from moving, not just houses but countries, from Singapore to Bali. And, upon arrival in Bali, we would stay in a couple different places.
Now we're in Bali, in our second place of stay, and I have to say, Fyo is doing great. Plenty of my friends have told me to when in doubt, follow your intuition and respond to your child's cues even at the expense of experts. We brought his toilet chair with us (it is the green plastic five dollar number from Ikea) and in each new place it comes out of the suitcase and goes in the bathroom. He then knows where to find it. Granted, it helps immensely that we chose a place to live where even when it pouring rain, it is warm enough for Fyo to go without pants. After he wakes up in the morning, we take off his diaper and he goes without (even during his naptime and he stays dry - and I guess the day that he doesn't, well, we'll be glad we're using somebody else's bed). He does wear a diaper to his three hours of nursery school, and most the time, he wears his swim diaper (one of the reusable swim trunks kind) in the pool. We do have the old fashioned kind of cotton training pants because I do not understand the point of pull-ups disposable diapers; I want him to feel when he's wet, not have it disappear as if he had just peed in a swimming pool. When he gets more fluent in being able to tell us when he has to go, then we'll start using them.
But the biggest reason why I am so glad we continued on the path? The cost of diapers in Bali. Despite being a relatively poor country, diapers are at least one and half times more expensive than they were in Singapore and I suspect the reason is because the locals don't use them. They follow the Elimination Communication path practiced by many in India and in parts of Asia. The second biggest reason why I'm glad? The waste we save. Fyo is 18 months old. With the average boy in the US achieving fluency in toilet training at 39 months - even if it does take us the traditional ten months for Fyo to get really facile, we still save a year's worth of diapers from the world's landfills.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Some thoughts on moving onward
My husband and I have been living in Singapore for six months. We moved from LA for his job (a sound and visual design engineer working on the Universal Studios theme park going in on Sentosa, the island off of Singapore). In Los Angeles, where we gave birth at home and had an amazingly supportive group of friends I met through the Moms group through our midwives office, our parenting philosophy seemed mainstream. Breastfeeding beyond six months, co-sleeping, tuning into baby's cues and so on. In terms of our families, my family thinks our parenting is genius, while my husband's family thinks they have reason to be concerned (as demonstrated by newspaper articles pasted into emails to my husband).
In Singapore, we are out of the parenting mainstream. Most the island, I suspect parents in the way my husband's family is used to parenting (mostly formula fed, cribs, when a baby cries, instead of picking the baby up, they either rock the stroller or shake a toy in its face). In my six months here, I have met five other women who were still nursing their toddlers. All of them were expats. I think there are two of us who co-sleep.
Not that it matters. I do think people need to do what works for them. Singapore, I imagine, is like most places in that there's a spectrum of people doing everything. I have grown into parenting in that I don't need a approval that I'm doing it right. Fyo is now old enough and an absolute gem; he's the proof that whatever we're doing works (for him). That being said, I'd be lost without having my LA Mom friends and other like minded friends online and on facebook. Community is more important than ever, even if it is no longer my mom's group where we hang out with snacks and our babies on blankets. And now, having grown into parenting, I have met other Mom friends, who I adore and enjoy, and who parent totally different than I do, but who still have very similar values.
Next week, with my husband's job drawing to a close, we move onward to Vietnam. We fly into Ho Chi Minh City. We have no idea how long we'll be there, but we plan on traveling north until we find a nice beach town where Husband can catch up on his sleep. We're looking forward to Vietnam as it's a country, we've both been interested in seeing. We have no idea how long we'll be there, where we'll be going after that or when we're officially going back to the states. I have relatives who hate this and who I think consider us completely irresponsible. I don't talk to them often.
I'm a bit sad to be leaving Singapore (though, I do really hate the weather). It seems that for whatever reason, it takes six months to make good friends. Singapore is also amazingly baby friendly. Most restaurants have baby chairs (high chairs) and even wait staff who are happy to carry your child around the restaurant and show him the kitchen while you enjoy your drink. Because Singapore is so safe, I never worried about my son being kidnapped. The sidewalks and subways are stroller friendly (in most places) unlike other cities in this neck of the woods. And as everyone says, Singapore is clean.
Now that I know we're leaving in just over a week, and that we're leaving for an indefinite period of time, I am a bit overwhelmed in my mind, in terms of all that there is to do just like there is with any move (packing, purging, and so on). I also now realize that I know very little about Vietnam and have little idea of what to expect. Except our only requisite for the place we stop long enough to unpack our suitcase? Internet.
In Singapore, we are out of the parenting mainstream. Most the island, I suspect parents in the way my husband's family is used to parenting (mostly formula fed, cribs, when a baby cries, instead of picking the baby up, they either rock the stroller or shake a toy in its face). In my six months here, I have met five other women who were still nursing their toddlers. All of them were expats. I think there are two of us who co-sleep.
Not that it matters. I do think people need to do what works for them. Singapore, I imagine, is like most places in that there's a spectrum of people doing everything. I have grown into parenting in that I don't need a approval that I'm doing it right. Fyo is now old enough and an absolute gem; he's the proof that whatever we're doing works (for him). That being said, I'd be lost without having my LA Mom friends and other like minded friends online and on facebook. Community is more important than ever, even if it is no longer my mom's group where we hang out with snacks and our babies on blankets. And now, having grown into parenting, I have met other Mom friends, who I adore and enjoy, and who parent totally different than I do, but who still have very similar values.
Next week, with my husband's job drawing to a close, we move onward to Vietnam. We fly into Ho Chi Minh City. We have no idea how long we'll be there, but we plan on traveling north until we find a nice beach town where Husband can catch up on his sleep. We're looking forward to Vietnam as it's a country, we've both been interested in seeing. We have no idea how long we'll be there, where we'll be going after that or when we're officially going back to the states. I have relatives who hate this and who I think consider us completely irresponsible. I don't talk to them often.
I'm a bit sad to be leaving Singapore (though, I do really hate the weather). It seems that for whatever reason, it takes six months to make good friends. Singapore is also amazingly baby friendly. Most restaurants have baby chairs (high chairs) and even wait staff who are happy to carry your child around the restaurant and show him the kitchen while you enjoy your drink. Because Singapore is so safe, I never worried about my son being kidnapped. The sidewalks and subways are stroller friendly (in most places) unlike other cities in this neck of the woods. And as everyone says, Singapore is clean.
Now that I know we're leaving in just over a week, and that we're leaving for an indefinite period of time, I am a bit overwhelmed in my mind, in terms of all that there is to do just like there is with any move (packing, purging, and so on). I also now realize that I know very little about Vietnam and have little idea of what to expect. Except our only requisite for the place we stop long enough to unpack our suitcase? Internet.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Doing what works
I don’t know if it is related to the full moon, growth spurts (my personal guess) or the busyness of our days, but about once a month, Fyo our now 13 month old baby who sleeps with my husband and I, tosses and turns, kicks and crawls his way through his night of sleep. He nurses constantly, not in that sleepy sweet way that is as relaxing for me as it is for him, but in that way as if he’s ravenous and can’t possibly get enough milk. He pushes his feet into my stomach and pushes himself away as he nurses. He pulls himself away, rolls over, latches himself on again, grabs my other non-nursing nipple and begins the whole gymnastics routine again.
In the morning, my husband and I sit at the breakfast table with our coffee and stare into space, until one of us – usually my husband - says, “I think I slept, but I feel exhausted.” And I usually on these mornings feel a little bruised. On one particular morning, when I tell my husband, that I spent the night with Fyo’s feet in my stomach and my breast being pinched and that I felt exhausted and bruised, my husband said, “I think it’s time to wean him.” I wasn’t quite prepared for this response. Generally my husband loves that Fyo is still nursing and has no qualms whatsoever with Fyo’s love of extended breastfeeding. “I don’t think it’s working any more.” My husband continues.
My bruised stomach sinks. I was exhausted and I did feel bruised. I also did not enjoy the occasional night where Fyo in bed with us was as restful as a carnival, but I wasn’t necessarily ready to give up all together either.
Kent continued again, “I’d like to be able to put him down in the evening and have some alone time. It’d be nice to not have to nurse him down.”
I could see his point, but getting Fyo to sleep without nursing him down didn’t sound easy either. Other than wearing him out and letting him fall asleep on his own accord – like he did in the stroller or ergo carrier – I don’t know how to put Fyo to sleep. The idea of giving up nursing Fyo down to sleep left me feeling slightly overwhelmed, as if I suddenly had no idea how to mother my toddler. It also left me sad. I began to realize that I continued to nurse Fyo as much for my own comfort as for his.
My husband and I went on to have a nice day though part of me stayed in this mental no man’s land of nagging self-doubt. I tried to imagine the future of getting a 13-month old to sleep on his own and saw only nights full of crying and family frustration. We rented bicycles and rode around an island off the coast of Singapore. We ran into a friend of my husband’s from work who had also rented a bicycle to ride around the island. Eric, was in Singapore for the same project as my husband. He had left his wife and nine-year-old daughter at home in Los Angeles as his time in Singapore was indefinite.
We stopped to take a rest and drink a coconut. Fyo had fallen asleep in his bicycle seat. We took him out so he could finish his nap on Daddy’s chest. We got to talking to Eric, but out of the blue, I interrupted the conversation and asked, “Hey, do you remember if when your daughter had growth spurts if she tossed and turned throughout the night?”
Eric looked at me, then said, “Well, you know, we had her in our bed.”
My husband and I both said, “You did?” At home in Los Angeles, with our network of friends, co-sleeping was normal. In Singapore, no one ever talked about it. I had just assumed we were the only people who slept with their baby. Kent asked, “For how long?”
“Seven years.” Eric said. I asked him how long his wife breastfed. He said, for quite a while, about three years or until just before she started nursery school.
"Oh, I said, so did she nurse her down to sleep at night?"
"Yeah. She'd usually just go to bed too though, because she was always tired." This is what I did. I went to bed early with Fyo, but got up later in the night or early in the morning to get writing or reading done.
I told him about our night of sleep, my love of nursing Fyo down, but Kent’s desire to be able to just put him down and have a free evening.
Eric said, “You want my advice? Just do what works.”
Of course. So easy and so simple. I breathed a sigh of relief. The self-doubt started to ease up. It didn’t matter if we were doing the right thing or the wrong thing. We were doing what worked. And overall, most of what we do with Fyo works and works well. It can be easy to take for granted how well it does work.
On the subway ride home, at the end of a good long day of riding bicycles, and then having a long dinner of fresh seafood, Fyo fell asleep in the Ergo carrier after discreetly nursing. I rubbed my nose in his soft reddish blond hair. I looked over at my husband and said, “This works.”
“Yes, yes it does,” he said.
In the morning, my husband and I sit at the breakfast table with our coffee and stare into space, until one of us – usually my husband - says, “I think I slept, but I feel exhausted.” And I usually on these mornings feel a little bruised. On one particular morning, when I tell my husband, that I spent the night with Fyo’s feet in my stomach and my breast being pinched and that I felt exhausted and bruised, my husband said, “I think it’s time to wean him.” I wasn’t quite prepared for this response. Generally my husband loves that Fyo is still nursing and has no qualms whatsoever with Fyo’s love of extended breastfeeding. “I don’t think it’s working any more.” My husband continues.
My bruised stomach sinks. I was exhausted and I did feel bruised. I also did not enjoy the occasional night where Fyo in bed with us was as restful as a carnival, but I wasn’t necessarily ready to give up all together either.
Kent continued again, “I’d like to be able to put him down in the evening and have some alone time. It’d be nice to not have to nurse him down.”
I could see his point, but getting Fyo to sleep without nursing him down didn’t sound easy either. Other than wearing him out and letting him fall asleep on his own accord – like he did in the stroller or ergo carrier – I don’t know how to put Fyo to sleep. The idea of giving up nursing Fyo down to sleep left me feeling slightly overwhelmed, as if I suddenly had no idea how to mother my toddler. It also left me sad. I began to realize that I continued to nurse Fyo as much for my own comfort as for his.
My husband and I went on to have a nice day though part of me stayed in this mental no man’s land of nagging self-doubt. I tried to imagine the future of getting a 13-month old to sleep on his own and saw only nights full of crying and family frustration. We rented bicycles and rode around an island off the coast of Singapore. We ran into a friend of my husband’s from work who had also rented a bicycle to ride around the island. Eric, was in Singapore for the same project as my husband. He had left his wife and nine-year-old daughter at home in Los Angeles as his time in Singapore was indefinite.
We stopped to take a rest and drink a coconut. Fyo had fallen asleep in his bicycle seat. We took him out so he could finish his nap on Daddy’s chest. We got to talking to Eric, but out of the blue, I interrupted the conversation and asked, “Hey, do you remember if when your daughter had growth spurts if she tossed and turned throughout the night?”
Eric looked at me, then said, “Well, you know, we had her in our bed.”
My husband and I both said, “You did?” At home in Los Angeles, with our network of friends, co-sleeping was normal. In Singapore, no one ever talked about it. I had just assumed we were the only people who slept with their baby. Kent asked, “For how long?”
“Seven years.” Eric said. I asked him how long his wife breastfed. He said, for quite a while, about three years or until just before she started nursery school.
"Oh, I said, so did she nurse her down to sleep at night?"
"Yeah. She'd usually just go to bed too though, because she was always tired." This is what I did. I went to bed early with Fyo, but got up later in the night or early in the morning to get writing or reading done.
I told him about our night of sleep, my love of nursing Fyo down, but Kent’s desire to be able to just put him down and have a free evening.
Eric said, “You want my advice? Just do what works.”
Of course. So easy and so simple. I breathed a sigh of relief. The self-doubt started to ease up. It didn’t matter if we were doing the right thing or the wrong thing. We were doing what worked. And overall, most of what we do with Fyo works and works well. It can be easy to take for granted how well it does work.
On the subway ride home, at the end of a good long day of riding bicycles, and then having a long dinner of fresh seafood, Fyo fell asleep in the Ergo carrier after discreetly nursing. I rubbed my nose in his soft reddish blond hair. I looked over at my husband and said, “This works.”
“Yes, yes it does,” he said.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
On Reading: Bad Mother by Ayelet Waldman
I just started Bad Mother by Ayelet Waldman. I'm not far enough along to write a full fledged review. I am far enough along to say that her premise is that we're all bad mothers - not that it's anything personal, but, she points out, all the examples of good mothers are fictional: Mary Poppins, June Cleaver, Carol Brady etc. etc. etc. She also points out that women perpetuate this idea - that we're all bad mothers - by how much we judge other mothers and ourselves against these fictional role models.
I love Ayelet Waldman. I really do. She has four kids, a career she loves and a marriage that rocks, so really I'll listen to anything she says even if I respectfully disagree with her from time to time. But my first thoughts on this book are that I don't feel like a bad mother - and I love Mary Poppins and wish I could be like her in several respects. Granted, I have an awesome group of friends and family who constantly reaffirm my and my husband's parenting. However, I do admit, I feel like a mediocre wife (my husband never says this - and I will certainly never ask my mother-in-law her opinion on the matter), a lousy friend who is always behind on emails, thank you notes, and phone calls etc, a poor sister for similar reasons, and a disastrous housekeeper. But this of course, underscores Waldman's premise, that as mothers, we're always failing at something and perfection is always just out of reach.
I'm sure I will have more thoughts as I keep reading...
I love Ayelet Waldman. I really do. She has four kids, a career she loves and a marriage that rocks, so really I'll listen to anything she says even if I respectfully disagree with her from time to time. But my first thoughts on this book are that I don't feel like a bad mother - and I love Mary Poppins and wish I could be like her in several respects. Granted, I have an awesome group of friends and family who constantly reaffirm my and my husband's parenting. However, I do admit, I feel like a mediocre wife (my husband never says this - and I will certainly never ask my mother-in-law her opinion on the matter), a lousy friend who is always behind on emails, thank you notes, and phone calls etc, a poor sister for similar reasons, and a disastrous housekeeper. But this of course, underscores Waldman's premise, that as mothers, we're always failing at something and perfection is always just out of reach.
I'm sure I will have more thoughts as I keep reading...
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Things I Wish They Would Study: the Hunger Pains of the Nursing
When I was pregnant and reading all about the how-to's, ups and downs, and potential trials of breastfeeding, I remember coming across the detail of how thirsty breastfeeding women are and how much water they should be drinking. The statistic that breastfeeding women burn an extra 1000 calories a day is touted all over the place (this stat always makes me wonder why breastfeeding rates aren't higher. An extra 1000 calories a day! Why do women wean babies so early when there are such metabolic rewards? I like to eat so this baffles me.), but I read very little, if anything, about the all consuming hunger that comes with nursing a baby. No one mentioned it. It is the hunger of teenage boys. Tall ones who play lots of sports. I have actually met a couple of teenage boys since breastfeeding my son. And I have eaten them all under the table.
The books I read said to eat well, of course, and I do (generally). I am constantly surprised - still with my son nine months old - by the hunger and by how much I eat. When my son was first born I was even more hungry than I am now, in fact, I could not feel full. I was embarrassed by how hungry I was. When my husband and I had a friend over to dinner in the first month of being parents, I offered her dessert. She declined with the universal gesture of her hand held up to signal she was stuffed. "No, no, no," she said. "I couldn't possibly eat another bite of anything." I distinctly remember thinking, "Really? Because I could go again." I felt as if I hadn't eaten anything - and I had had seconds! I had wanted to help myself to more, but I was so self-conscious, even embarrassed, by how much food I needed to eat.
I am not as hungry as I was that first month of mothering, but I am still hungry and I do still eat a lot. If my husband and I are going to dinner at a friends' house or restaurant, I always eat before leaving the house. Partly, I do out of self-preservation. Along with the metabolic miracles of breastfeeding comes a blood sugar that drops to zero without notice. I can go from satiated to starving in a millisecond. And it is that kind of starving that makes me, and anybody with me, miserable. When the dropped blood sugar hits, having to wait for food is pure agony and I, in moments like this, have grown so desperate for food, I have threatened to drink my own breastmilk. And I wasn't really kidding.
Non-breastfeeders don't quite get it though - I can tell my husband I am hungry and need to eat, and he'll say, "Okay, we'll pick something up." which in my pre-breastfeeding days would be the ideal response. But now, I have to emphasize a couple or few times, that when I need to eat, I need to eat. Fellow breastfeeders, therefore, make the best travel and/or hang out companions. When I meet my breastfeeding Mom friends, whether we're at the art museum or going for a hike, one of the first things we do is eat. Today, a couple friends and I went to the Mommy & Me movie, and when we came out of the theater, all three of us simultaneously exhaled, "Oh, I am so hungry." If you're in a group of breastfeeding women, one of them has a protein bar in her purse. If it wasn't for fellow breastfeeding friends, I would think something is wrong with me. Generally, thinking about food most the time, and eating on your way out the door for dinner are the signs of a potential eating disorder. With breastfeeding though, it's just par for the course.
The books I read said to eat well, of course, and I do (generally). I am constantly surprised - still with my son nine months old - by the hunger and by how much I eat. When my son was first born I was even more hungry than I am now, in fact, I could not feel full. I was embarrassed by how hungry I was. When my husband and I had a friend over to dinner in the first month of being parents, I offered her dessert. She declined with the universal gesture of her hand held up to signal she was stuffed. "No, no, no," she said. "I couldn't possibly eat another bite of anything." I distinctly remember thinking, "Really? Because I could go again." I felt as if I hadn't eaten anything - and I had had seconds! I had wanted to help myself to more, but I was so self-conscious, even embarrassed, by how much food I needed to eat.
I am not as hungry as I was that first month of mothering, but I am still hungry and I do still eat a lot. If my husband and I are going to dinner at a friends' house or restaurant, I always eat before leaving the house. Partly, I do out of self-preservation. Along with the metabolic miracles of breastfeeding comes a blood sugar that drops to zero without notice. I can go from satiated to starving in a millisecond. And it is that kind of starving that makes me, and anybody with me, miserable. When the dropped blood sugar hits, having to wait for food is pure agony and I, in moments like this, have grown so desperate for food, I have threatened to drink my own breastmilk. And I wasn't really kidding.
Non-breastfeeders don't quite get it though - I can tell my husband I am hungry and need to eat, and he'll say, "Okay, we'll pick something up." which in my pre-breastfeeding days would be the ideal response. But now, I have to emphasize a couple or few times, that when I need to eat, I need to eat. Fellow breastfeeders, therefore, make the best travel and/or hang out companions. When I meet my breastfeeding Mom friends, whether we're at the art museum or going for a hike, one of the first things we do is eat. Today, a couple friends and I went to the Mommy & Me movie, and when we came out of the theater, all three of us simultaneously exhaled, "Oh, I am so hungry." If you're in a group of breastfeeding women, one of them has a protein bar in her purse. If it wasn't for fellow breastfeeding friends, I would think something is wrong with me. Generally, thinking about food most the time, and eating on your way out the door for dinner are the signs of a potential eating disorder. With breastfeeding though, it's just par for the course.
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