Recently in Parenting and Family Life Category
on this article, but I am drawing a blank. The only thought that comes to mind is how backwards we are as a culture. Just throw the concept of race out already. Done. Finish. As long as you have race, race is going to be an issue.
MIchael Pollan on Julie, Julia, and the Food Network:
How is it that we are so eager to watch other people browning beef cubes on screen but so much less eager to brown them ourselves?
For the rise of Julia Child as a figure of cultural consequence — along with Alice Waters and Mario Batali and Martha Stewart and Emeril Lagasse and whoever is crowned the next Food Network star — has, paradoxically, coincided with the rise of fast food, home-meal replacements and the decline and fall of everyday home cooking.
That decline has several causes: women working outside the home; food companies persuading Americans to let them do the cooking; and advances in technology that made it easier for them to do so. Cooking is no longer obligatory, and for many people, women especially, that has been a blessing. But perhaps a mixed blessing, to judge by the culture’s continuing, if not deepening, fascination with the subject. It has been easier for us to give up cooking than it has been to give up talking about it — and watching it.
Making Babies: A Very Different Look at Natural Family Planning
But another reason for NFP's allegedly high success rate is that couples who use it are prepared to welcome children and so don't blame NFP for unexpected pregnancies. Four of my own five children came the NFP way -- that is, totally unexpectedly -- and that's a good thing, because without them bouncing in as surprises, excuses to delay (the sort of excuses one might hear from a recruit in parachute training) might have gone on for a very long time. As it is, in a mere matter of ten years, my wife and I assembled a complete basketball team. And if menopause doesn't strike my wife soon, who knows what sort of team we might assemble.
Rather than bite one's nails to the quick at the prospect of baby number ten -- which, if one marries in one's early 20s and practices NFP, is a definite possibility -- we should encourage the attitude of the more the merrier, which is a far more attractive case to make than all the goo-goo language about how NFP helps couples "communicate" and about the joy of charting temperatures and discharges and plotting one's conjugal acts as a captain might chart a course for his ship.
Cate Flanagan in TIME Magazine:
There is no other single force causing as much measurable hardship and human misery in this country as the collapse of marriage. It hurts children, it reduces mothers' financial security, and it has landed with particular devastation on those who can bear it least: the nation's underclass.
Two lovely links within that article:
A few months ago, I was whining about the stress of taking care of family and a colicy newborn. Gabriel is nearly five months old now. He is very happy, he smiles, giggles, and talks all the time, and he loves his siblings. He is thriving well and is pleasantly plump. Note the little sausage legs:
But he still screams when I try to put him down. Many people told me to ask about acid reflux, and I did. The doctor told me it was gas and to use Mylicon drops. Having gone through colic before, I figured we could last until three months.
Three months have come and gone (he is nearly five moths old now) and while Gabriel no longer has that newborn shell-shockedness about his personality ("Why is it bright? Why am I cold? Why is it noisy? Mommy, where are you? Who are you, you're not my mommy! Where am I?"), a distinct pattern has emerged. While Gabriel loves to nurse, he doesn't like to eat that much. He is always looking to latch on, but when he does, he arches his back and squirms and usually spits up a good portion of what he takes in. And nights, oh man. The past three weeks he wakes up every hour or so and I have to sit in the rocking chair and hold him up on my shoulder. He instantly falls into a deep sleep then, but when hel ies back down, he starts to squirm. For me, dozing in a rocking chair night after night is not very restful. He spends a great deal of time during the day in the sling and/or walking back and forth, back and forth. (If this is disconnected it's because I had to stop about a dozen times to walk him).
On Monday, I called the pediatrician first thing in the morning for an appointment about this acid reflux thing because I.Had.IT. He hasn't outgrown it, and perhaps poor munchkin (er, Mommy) would be much happier sleeping the night with a prescription of some sort of Baby Zantac. For the check-up, Gabriel smiled and cooed and charmed the socks off the nurse and the doctor. The nurse said "this is the most pleasant baby I have ever seen" and the doctor who had been trying to get me to supplement with formula was happy to see how well he is thriving (he didn't even ask me to supplement once) and repeatedly remarked how well he's doing. This baby can't possibly have any issues! When I asked about acid reflux and relayed the symptoms, he said it was gas because he is thriving and developing so well. He told me to use Mylicon. He must have stock in the company.
So here we are. Fussy baby, laundry, dinner. Kids who pretend they didn't know have to do daily chores. I have three quilts I would love to finish...Again, one thing having seven kids has taught me is this too will pass...
From Momlogic.com, Marijuana Mamas: Is pot the new pilates?:
A new wave of reefer madness is sweeping suburbia -- but it's not just teenagers who are lighting up. Middle-aged, middle-class soccer moms are smoking pot ... a lot. These women aren't stoners: they're teachers, lawyers, and, perhaps, even your neighbor who prefers puffing a joint to sipping chardonnay. woman smoking marijuana"Marijuana is the magic in my life that helps me unwind, stay sane, and have more energy," says Sonia, a 24-year-old mother from Los Angeles. Working full-time as a restaurant manager leaves Sonia feeling stressed out and drained at the end of the day. She smokes once or twice daily to relax. "I have a stressful job, it's something that helps me wind down so I don't take out my frustration on my husband or my child."
Sonia became a mother at the age of 22 and suffered from some depression. She turned to marijuana to help curb the baby blues. A doctor later diagnosed Sonia with anxiety and wrote her a prescription for the herbal remedy. Sonia gets her stash from a medicinal marijuana clinic and takes comfort in knowing the pot she smokes is legal and high quality.
Are you kidding me?
There's a lot of debate over how to talk to kids about using drugs without sounding like a hypocrite, especially if you're the one hitting the bong. Zero-tolerance proponents believe you must support abstinence only. But advocates say a more real-world approach is to discuss drug use in moderation. This method is detailed in a pamphlet called "Safety First: A Reality-Based Approach to Teens and Drugs," which is distributed by the California PTA.
"Abstinence only"? Now adults who do not participate in illegal activities do not live in "the real world". I love how "real" is always code for sin.
"Drug use in moderation". Is that realistic? People usually do or they don't.
In "reality", I pretty much don't care what other people decide to do, but advocating illegal substance abuse is irresponsible. Besides the fact that people behave stupidly under the influence, they run the risk of being put in jail and having their children taken away. I don't care how many upper-middle-class-soccer moms are getting toked, it's not so quaint and trendy a practice if you are poor. It completely ceases to be quaint. You are guaranteed to lose your family.
Also, no one is addressing the health risks. Smoking cigarettes has become the focus of countless PSAs, but we want to legalize a substance with nearly twice the amount of carcinogens?
I wonder, why can't people deal? I don't mean that as criticism; I will be the first to admit motherhood is stressful. But is this because people didn't expect there is a great deal of difficulty involved in rearing children or are we just are so not supportive of parents in general? Probably a bit of both. I also wonder since we have become a culture where people need to be entertained 150% of the time, have we lost our ability to find more wholesome ways to relieve stress.
Rosey Posey thought she could get away with it. My husband keeps a few fun things in the freezer for times when I'm hungry...(and watches me eat them but doesn't join me because they are "fattening"). Things like these frozen chicken nuggets. Of course with a house full, you have to sneak these, or eat them late. Rosey Posey tried, but Berylla can sense treats a mile away:
Berylla: Whatcha doin'? Eating chicken?
Rosey Posey:Um...no. The bag is empty and I'm just um...throwing it away.
Moves to the garbage can and holds it over.
Berylla watches intently.
Berylla: Go ahead. Throw it out.
Rosey Posey, defeated: Oh, never mind.
It's easy to stay thin in a house with many siblings.
As any stay-at-home parent can tell you, there are highs and there are lows. There are moments when this is the best job in the world, and moments when you'd love to pull your hair out and go freaking berserk. You would do anything for a break. It's HARD work. It's not a walk in the park, and it's not a breeze. At times, it's aggravating. It's not just the kids you have to deal with. You're in contact with every single person that they're in contact with -- their teachers, their playdate's parents, their doctors, their dentists. It's a lot to manage having two kids, much less eight.
-Jay Brown in his commentary Jon Gosselin is NOT a Stay-at-Home Dad!
So now little Septimus is here, I am thankful to God. Thankful for my sweet, sweet boy, and thankful that physically, I feel good. I felt incredibly crappy for the duration of the pregnancy from morning sickness in the beginning to all the body aches and the inability to walk in the end. No more low iron issues. No more heaviness. I can walk. I can breath. I can eat. It's wonderful.
Before I had Septimus, I had everything ready-the stroller, the swing, the car seat. I just needed the baby. They say a mother forgets about labor after the fact, allowing her to have other children. I think that is a fallacy after so many children-I was in a sheer panic about labor prior to having Septimus. The memory of the pain was front and center. However, I do forget how incredibly sucky this part of motherhood is-the newborn stage. I remember it being difficult, but I forget how incredibly difficult.
Each day I get up and rush into the shower before my husband leaves. When he and the kids all depart the house at 7.25, I have this wave of panic run through me with the unrealistic realization that I have been abandoned. I don't think it is a totally abnormal feeling (right Moms?), and my normal course of action to stifle it is just get started. Get breakfast, get school, get a load of laundry in, clean the house, think of something fun to do later for my therapy (usually sew or bake something or get a work-out in), perhaps shop around on Etsy for a cute pattern to sew. Before you know it, it's 5.30, supper's ready and everyone you missed so desperately is home! And look what you accomplished! Someone read another chapter in their reader, someone has a new dress, the rug is vacuumed, another teeth cleaning is behind us for 6 months!
Now I have my 6th colic baby who screams from the second he opens his eyes until I can get them closed again (actually, I have to hold him while he sleeps or he wakesup screaming no matter where I put him). Or if I put him down. And I don't know why. And I don't care why. In the past we did chiropractors, cutting out wheat and dairy, music, swings, simethicone drops-everything. Now it's get passed the 3 month mark. Nothing else works.
I get about 5% of what I have to get done, done. I know many a wise Mom advises "just let him scream and do what you gotta do", but his screams have an instant physiological reaction in my body that feels like someone taking an egg beater to my nervous system. It's unbearable. So in the meantime, I just watch the house fall apart around me, get the bare minimum of school done, daydream about sewing projects I would like to finish before my kids get hold of the packages of bias tape and use them to tie each other up with.
I know this will pass because it always has, but when? Tomorrow? Next week? Will my family survive until then?
What's frustrating is there isn't a darn person around me who has a clue what it's like. They all notice the laundry piles up, but can't figure out why. They all know I am seriously grumpy, but Mom has issues. It never occurred to anyone that the reason why things ran smoothly before is because I was running things, not because it is in the nature of a toilet used by 8 people each day to simply be clean. My husband who comes home each day after a day of work is done for the day. He doesn't get I am not done. Not at 5.30 or when I go to bed at night. Never.
To counter my ingratitude, each day I do a mental inventory of my life. I love my life. I love my family, I love homeschooling. I love showing off my kids (if it's not the kind when they are screaming in public). I am thankful for a husband that brought me home a bottle of white wine the other night just because, and takes me out for a walk each night. I know each and every one of them is a blessing from God. I can't think of anything else I would rather be doing and I am doing what I always wanted to do for as long as I can remember. And I believe in what I'm doing.
So what's the deal? How can so much joy make someone so miserable? I get through it by offering it up and simply filing it under "Crosses to bear", but there has to be an answer. There is a better way to get through this period without a crying fit everyday at 10 AM because you just want to clean the bathroom without hearing screaming, and you can't. I know the answer is staring me right in the face, but I can't grasp it.
And I know I am not alone.
But $90? Are you kidding me? Do they not get the whole "big Catholic family" thing? Or "frugal Catholic family"? Or "frugal, big, Catholic family in a recession?" Sigh
1. Got through Monday evening. Cisco had an eye doctor's appointment at 5:30 PM, Josh had a doctor's appointment at 6 PM, and at 7 PM I had a pro-life meeting at Church. Not only did we get through it, it went smoothly with a healthy dinner served in the midst of it all. Days like this are becoming more frequent and when I get through them, I amaze myself.
2.Turns out Cisco needs reading glasses, so hopefully this will help some with his reading. We have had a decent week at school so far.
3. Despite it being really hard (tired from little sleep, no big people home until 5:30 PM, screaming baby), I have made real food for supper every night this week, and did not order pizza once.
Fredegar: (age 4) Mommy, is that your baby?
Pansy:Yes
Fredegar:He's so cute! Mommy?
Pansy: What?
Fredegar: He's eating your boobie.
walks away
