Gorbulas just started going into the bathroom, but before he decided to shut the door, he poked his little head out and said "Mommy! I didn't know presidents can have kids!"
"Um, why yes, they can and many do."
"Yeah! I didn't know that!"
Retreats back into the bathroom.
This is my Dear Rosey Posey:
On weekends, she works at a local drive-in theater owned by her best friend's family. On this particular day, the drive-in was having a 50's party, so the day before the party, she informed me she needed a 50's outfit. So I got to work looking at poodle skirt pictures on the Internet and headed out to Wal-Mart the night before for fabric. Of course it is ont "authentic", poodle skirts are made out of felt, but the felt was $4 a yard and I found this cotton for $2. It also should have been fuller, and I tried by just making a basic elastic waist A-line (easy without a pattern) with lots of fabric. It was fine for working in the concession stand.
So Rosey Posey has low iron, according to her doctor. I am not sure how you can have low iron and not be anemic (I understand anemia can be from other issues), but that is what her doctor told me. They said they want her to eat iron-rich foods such as dried fruit (she steals all my prunes, but won't admit it is her), legumes,spinach, etc.
She knows the drill because I have always struggled with iron I told her she can take blackstrap molasses and her response was "yeah, I know, but that's disgusting". So this morning I made some whole wheat oatmeal muffins with molasses and raisins and I know for a fact she will not eat them. Why would she? Even worse, why would I make them knowing she won't eat them! Muffins are supposed to have chocolate chips! Yet I bother for some odd reason that mothers bother with the things. You know, like how we cook vegetables for the kids who hate vegetables every night. It's some kind nonsensical Momism. She's going to get up in a little while and look at them and say "oh, um, th-thanks, um, gee, raisins and blackstrap molasses..."
And I'll say "and oatmeal and cinnamon. Try one, they're good." (Which they are, I just had one.)
And she'll say "no thanks, it's morning, I'm not hungry."
The doctor also told me to buy her Flintstone's Chewable with Iron and she needs to take 2 a day. Her first reasction was "but these aren't the Gummi kind!"
"Rosey Posey, they do not sell vitamins with iron in Gummi form."
"Hmmph!"
"Make sure you hide those in your drawer away from your little brothers. They will think they are candy and eat them. Iron can be dangerous."
So her answer to that was to put them in the pantry next to the raisins.
"Rosey Posey, I said to hide these!"
"I did! They were on a higher shelf where they could not reach them...or see them...unless they looked like up. And I doubt they are smart enough to look up!"
She's going to read this and think I am dumping on her. I'm not. The daily goings on in raising children creates (what to me seem) funny scenarios that I would like to record and go back and read. That is one of the things I love about keeping this blog.
While I do know many providentalists and many NFPers, Deo Gratias, neither have been the extreme ilk described in the post below. Well not at least within the circle of people I consider my friends and confidantes, just opinions I read on the Internet here and there. I think my main gripe with NFP, both sides will agree is one of the tragedies of NFP in philosophy.
As I mentioned before, I suffered from Post Partum Depression after Berylla. My OB/Gyn (not Catholic, but a kind doctor) asked me the usual questions:
"do you have help?"
"no"
"how many small children do you have at home?"
"too many"
Then he asked if I could get dispensation from the Bishop to use birth control. I actually considered this option, knowing darn well my very liberal Bishop would grant it with no problem without even truly weighing the issue with true Catholic teaching. (Perhaps I shouldn't have such doubts and trust God's shepherds more.) There are the other factors though:
~Contraceptives are abortifacient.
~Contraceptives are carcinogenic.
~Contraceptives aren't good for you.
~It is bad for marriages.
~The pill was funded by Margaret Sanger for eugenic purposes.
So here I am, working out, eating organic brown rice, refraining from drinking and smoking and I would give up all that work for an drug that is not necessary to sustain me or keep me healthy. The Church in all her wisdom simply understand what Truth is, and trying to find a back door is just denying the Truth.
I went home that day and spoke to my mother, the wife of a deacon. I figured with all my parents' religious training and as a mother of four, she would have a better grip on the intricacies of this delicate situation. Her reply was that since I have tried NFP with earnest many times, that is God giving me the thumbs up to use birth control. That was the spoken part. The non-spoken part has been made obvious numerous times when I was a week or two post partum, and I was struggling to juggle cooking dinner, lessons, mastitis. After I had number four and I was in this situation, I called her and begged for a bit of help to which she replied "it was your choice to have more children; I did my time." I never asked again. Of course she never volunteered.
You see NFP, even among Catholics who understand the moral and health contraindications of artificial birth control now have NFP to fall back on to allow large families to be labeled "irresponsible". That means if they have lots of kids that is their responsibility and no one has a Christian duty any longer to help families in need, even their own families, who may be struggling financially or practically. "You got yourself into this mess, and don't use that 'being Catholic thing' as an excuse, it's your job to get yourself out." There are no more of those stories from the 50's about how the Murphy's had 10 kids and they were dirt poor, so the girls couldn't afford dancing lessons, but the kids enjoyed each others company, had tons of chores, looked out for one another and grew up to be good Catholics. Remember those stories? Today: "how can you neglect those kids by not giving them dancing lessons?"
Under no circumstances should you ever put yourself in the position of giving or denying your spouse permission to go after something he or she wants, be it a thing, a personal goal, a certain amount of time or attention, or an emotional investment on your part. Negotiating the what (instead of the how and when) in marriage changes you from a partner into a parent, and it reduces your spouse from an adult to a child. Inevitably, this dynamic creates the kind of resentment that, if allowed to go unchecked, causes divorce.
~Excerpt from God Help Me, These People are Driving Me Nuts by Dr. Greg Popcak
Actually, EB aside, I thought this paragraph was so familiar, and well, vindicating:
It reminded me of how, early in my marriage, as my wife and I adjusted to NFP, Julie joined an NFP listserv, and mentioned that we were struggling with it. She never said, "And so we're thinking about ceasing to follow NFP," or anything like that. She just said that nothing in the literature prepared us for how difficult it could be to follow.The reaction was telling. She was completely ignored. It was weird, actually. Any idea that NFP is anything other than the perfect, most easily implemented way of life seemed forbidden in that online circle. It was as if you couldn't admit to having problems with it, even within the context of fidelity to NFP. For an online support group, that was discouraging. She dropped off the list after that.
I friggin' hate NFP. While I would never tell anyone not to use it, and I think every married couple should learn it, I hate it. Why? Six kids and counting. I love my kids, they are all blessings from God, but I have actively used NFP with the intentions of not having six kids. I know that in the catacombs of faithful married Catholics, I am positive I am not alone.
Mr. Dreher links to And Sometimes Tea: The Great NFP Debate which also has a comment (actually quite a few) that ring true to me as well:
They may express the idea that a couple who doesn't use NFP may experience periods of satiety, when their supposed lack of self-control has a dampening effect on the mystery and romance of marital union. They may even start to hint about a lack of prudence, or to discuss the importance of focused types of parenting.
I also hate the other great NFP lie: That NFP is 99.999999% percent effective for everyone who takes the time to learn it. I think that is true, Deo Gratias, for a lot of people, so don't think I am making excuses not to learn NFP. I think for some people, it just does not work very well for whatever reason.
I have been told that my only problem with NFP is a total lack of self-restraint on my part and I must have a secret porn addiction or that I must be overly scrupulous and therefore what Red Cardigan calls a "QP". Needless to say, "wha' the?"
I am actually so jealous of people whose lives are so uncomplicated that this is a black and white issue for them.
Time Magazine this week (pdf. article) has examples of food prices that have gone up since 2003:
Wonder Bread up 74%
Boneless center-cut pork chop up 124%
Farmland Skim Plus milk up 38%
Arnold Stone-Ground wheat bread up 36%
Rib-eye steak up 64%
Carr's water crackers up 39%
Bird's Eye frozen sweet corn up 28%
Bananas up 41%
Bird's Eye frozen baby peas up 21%
Diet Coke up 10%
Notice the crap on the list-the Diet Coke- is the price that has inflated the least. I am too tired to speculate about the meaning because I am too busy trying to feed a family of eight nutritious and palatable real food on a budget.
I am running out of all those bright ideas I used to have.
I think like many a parent, I am semi-outraged by the Miley Cyrus Vanity Fair photos.I have a 15-year old and I'll be damned before I let her take pictures implying she is naked... with a bed sheet making people wonder why she is naked with a bed sheet...and 15. Never mind, grossed out. However, I am even more annoyed that Hollywood is telling me why I shouldn't be outraged:
The frenzy over Miley Cyrus' Vanity Fair cover shots was inescapable earlier this week -- everyone seemed to have an opinion on the snaps, and most of them were critical of the tween star and her parents. But that's starting to change, as some familiar names -- like Sally Field and Rosie O'Donnell -- have come out in her defense.
So here I am reading these dopey celebrity quotes from the likes of Rosie O'Donnell and Nick Cannon when the last one came up. I could not have written anything better myself to back my point up:
"I think it's hot. When I was 15, I was doing the same thing except I bared it all ... She's just showing her back. She's growing up. I don't think she's doing anything harmful ... I think she's hot!" -- Tila Tequila
I was following Berylla around the vestibule of the Church this morning, where she picked up a prayer card and proceeded to take bites out of it. I took it from her and read the back. It had this uplifting quote from Cardinal Joseph Mindszenty:
The Most Important Person on earth is a mother. She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has built something more magnificent than any Cathedral-a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby's body...The angels have not been blessed with such a grace. They cannot share in God's creative miracle to bring new saints to Heaven. Only a human mother can. Mothers are closer to God the Creator than any other creature; God joins forces with mothers in performing this act of creation...What on God's good earth is more glorious than this: to be a mother?
Last night while we were sitting on the couch watching Top Chef, and my daughter randomly pinched me on the arm. I looked at her and said "Hey, what was that for?"
"I just wanted to see what you would do..."
"Huh?"
"Well, I did this to each of my brothers and they all had very different reactions."
According to Rosey Posey, when she pinched Posco (11), his reaction was "Hey! What the heck?!?c What was that for?"
Fastolph (8) started laughing hysterically.
Gorbulas (5) started crying hysterically.
Fredegar (2) hauled off and punched her.
Rosey Posey said she thought it was a funny experiment (no doubt partly because she got to inflict pain on her siblings in the name of "experimentation") because they reacted so differently.
It made me think that when I had my first one, I really thought her personality had so much to do with the way I shaped her. I kept looking at everything she did and thought "she does this because I was like that when I was small,". Yet you can have 18 kids and raise them in the same household, with the same hobbies and values, yet have 18 distinct personalities. Some of my childen don't do a darn thing like I ever would. I get tired thinking about God instilling seperate personalities into four boys, let alone 6 billion people.
Does anyone, or has anyone had a baby that is so darn clingy, that even at the ripe old age of six months, screams bloody murder everytime you put her down to go to the bathroom, or cook, put her in the shopping cart, car seat, or whatever. And she will not go to anyone else, like her father? And insists that you carry her around in the sling while you cook or whatever and weighs 20 pounds? And never takes naps? And doesn't let you put her down while you eat and insists on sticking her fingers in your food?
If this is you, were you institutionalized eventually?
Yet these siblings are a not even born and the astonishing images have been captured on a new 'four-dimensional' ultrasound scan of the womb.
Via the Daily Eudemon.
Hambet is five (six in February -- !). For Christmas, he deserves a big, shiny, solitary lump of coal. But Santa is a softie and wants to leave a little bit more than that.
My question is -- what? Hambet doesn't seem to have a particular wish this year, and he seems to be at kind of a transition period -- beginning to outgrow some of his preschool toys, but not quite ready for the Big Kid toys.
I know he likes building toys, and I was thinking about a marble run, but Grandma's got the Tinkertoys covered this year.
What about Playmobil -- how long do little boys play with those?
Whatever it is, I'd like it to be something that promotes healthy play and that is not an ugly robot.
I realized today why I stopped reading this genre of magazine. I was looking through the Parents Magazine website to read baby stuff, and I came across this article titled Are You A Discipline Wimp?, followed by the quiz Are You A Pushover Parent?
Please tell me I am not alone in that I would rather drink lava then read these articles. They go on to describe typical situations that happen when mothers are tired or fed up one night, and how doing the easy thing makes you a bad parent.
I was rushing to get dinner ready one night when I heard my son playing basketball in the living room. From the kitchen, I yelled, "You know the rules -- the basketball is an outdoor toy!""But, Mom, it's snowing!"
"I said stop it! You might break a window."
"I'll be careful!" he insisted.
You know what I did? Nothing. I just didn't have the energy for a fight, so I ignored the thump-thumping of the ball, focused on getting food on the table, and prayed that my son wouldn't smash anything.
Bad tactic. By wimping out, I may have avoided a conflict in the short run, but I was only setting myself up for others...
Yes I agree, bad move. Nevertheless, please, please don't tell me this woman, or ahem, me, are the only humans on the planet that have responded in such a manner when they are at the end of their rope.
For along time I avoided these publications after I had like three children, when life became less of "by the book" event and more of using what you had at your disposal to get by. The more I read, the crappier and guiltier I felt. It didn't occur to me until the last few days that perhaps there are very few people who feel good by reading articles with titles such as "Are You a Discipline Wimp?" These magazines seem to imply that good parents have homes that run smoothly despite any obstacle that may be encountered, and bad parents are the ones who are too emotional and barbaric to just react sometimes due to lack of sleep.
No, I am not saying there is nothing valuable about this type of magazine. I’m just not sure why it has taken me 13 years of being a mother to understand that being a mother does not mean being inhuman. I am also not sure why everything reinforces a stereotype that motherhood should mean superhuman unless it comes to abortion, birth control or returning to work and putting kids in daycare. Only in those scenarios do women get a pass for “doing what they can do�.
By the way, before any thinks my point is to advocate raising barbarians who I throw raw meat at and allow to swing from my ceiling fan; that is not it at all. When I was a new mother, I was more inclined to fall into the above trap with my oldest. As time went on, becoming not such a “discipline wimp� has become second nature. Believe it or not, there is a learning curve, like with everything else new. Not having it all down pat, the second you bring home baby #1 is also not indicative of being a horrible mother. It means there are new skills to be acquired.
As always I am baffled. Why is country so "forward thinking" when it comes to issues of immorality, and backwards when it comes to issues of child-rearing and motherhood?
I heard arguments on the O'Reilly Factor yesterday:
"the mother was offered a blanket to 'cover up' which was reasonable, yet she rejected it"
"no one is saying mother's should not breastfeed, just maybe not in public."
"People need to care about other people's sensibilities"
"The child was 22 months old at the time which is really old to be nursing."
I am so annoyed and disgusted on so many levels, and if I continue to blog, I will say some really stupid things.
Ok, I am going to go on anyway. Do these people who take issue with nursing in public have any inkling of what is involved in taking care of, comforting, and having a loving a relationship with an infant/toddler?
Each day I start out positive and go through what needs to be done in my head. I get up super early, take my shower, blood sugar, and prenatal vitamin, clean the bathroom, start laundry, do my own school work and lay out the kids’ clothes! My daily "To Do" list is written out and look how much I have crosed out! Wow! What a great start! Before I verbally do so, I start delegating the kid’s jobs:
"Fastolph, start your math work, there it is,�
“Posco, make you bed, and get your English, and can you get out the crayons for Fastolph's math assignment for me please?"
I dress the baby, wash breakfast dishes, put supper in the crock-pot. What a great day it is going to be! Today is the day I will get everything done that I intended. Not like yesterday or the day before that or the day before that…
It starts when Fastolph goes to his room to get dressed and never does. I have no idea what he does do. His clothes are laid out, but he wanders back in still in his pajamas. So we start the “Fastolph get dressed� wars. In the meantime Posco who is dressed and up, goes through the samething with school work. “Posco, start your math work� and he goes to the bathroom. “Posco, start your math work� and he sits at the table, to my satisfaction and 3 minutes later he is up wrestling with an still pajamaed Fastolph on the floor.
Now I start to slowly simmer. I pick up Fastolph and put him in his room and tell him to get dressed. His younger brother starts following him in his room, and I hear giggles. Toddler giggles are usually a pleasant sound, but at the moment, it might as well be IRS at the door. OK, not that bad, but you get the picture. I tell Posco to start his work yet again, and next thing I know Fredegar is up and Posco is sitting with him at the table letting him break crayons in two because it makes him happy. Now am I not only annoyed with the fact no one is doing what I asked, and my perfect day is going down the tubes, and no one is going to be educated and they will end up being illiterate, but this is third box of crayons I have purchased in the past 3 months and they keep disappearing! I put them in gallon bags, I put them up high. I have special kiddy crayons and I keep having to buy more!
Now the giggling in the middle boy’s room is getting intense and I go in there, and not only has Fastolph not gotten dressed, they have stripped their bed to hide in the blankets.
I look at the clock and it is time to get Sleeping Beauty up. The last thing I need ia dose of evil, but that is what I get: “I’m up! It’s too early!� Now like everyone else, her job is get up, make her bed, get dressed, eat and start school. This is the same routine since the establishment of the Upstate Moss household. But to every child it is surprise. Get dressed? In the morning? The oppression! She slowly wanders up, meanders to the dining room in her pajamas, and reads “Dear Abby�. She makes some comments about the current dilemma, which are usually both funny and insightful, but I am annoyed because she knows she is not supposed to be reading “Dear Abby�, nor have I had the opportunity to do so! Instead of taking the moment to bond with her, I snap at her about “yes, Rosey, but what are you supposed to be doing now?�
In the meantime, Fastolph manages to come out semi-dressed, but not in the clothes I neatly laid out for him, but in shorts and one sock.
“What are you wearing?�
“I dunno, this was all I could find!�
“Get the clothes I gave you!�
Back to his room and more blankets and giggling.
So after a day of planned 7 lessons for each child, Fastolph gets 3. I have managed to wash the sheets of 1 bed instead of 2. Instead of the full meal I had planned for dinner plus dessert, I am usually short a side dish and/or the dessert.
One load of laundry gets left in the dryer overnight instead of getting put away.
Please, please, please tell me I am not alone and other Moms who have been there have managed to raise decent children.
According to the NY Times, To Be Married Means to Be Outnumbered (registration required).
The American Community Survey, released this month by the Census Bureau, found that 49.7 percent, or 55.2 million, of the nation’s 111.1 million households in 2005 were made up of married couples -- with and without children -- just shy of a majority and down from more than 52 percent five years earlier.The numbers by no means suggests marriage is dead or necessarily that a tipping point has been reached. The total number of married couples is higher than ever, and most Americans eventually marry. But marriage has been facing more competition. A growing number of adults are spending more of their lives single or living unmarried with partners, and the potential social and economic implications are profound.
A reader wrote in:
This Back to Sleep stuff drives me nuts. I don't know why it is safer, but it can be really hard to get some babies to sleep on their backs. I have two daughters, 3 and 2 1/2 weeks, who both refuse to sleep on their backs. Both will sleep for 3 hours or so (and have since birth) if laid on their stomachs, and both could, from birth, lift up their heads enough to switch the cheek that is on the mattress. When, as a brand new mom, I tried to get my oldest to sleep on her back, I would put her down, and immediately she would throw her little fists up in the air, scrunch up her face, and let that newborn "you're hurting me!" scream go. After one tearful and sleepless night, my husband and I acquiesced to her desire to sleep on her stomach and have had no sleep problems with her since.ÂSo the question is, what do educators and parental counselors or whatever do with a baby like this? According to both my mother and my mother-in-law, my husband, I, and our siblings were all this way. I imagine that things like this are underrepresented in studies because we parents are often made to feel like bad parents when we can't get our children to do this. It just frustrates me to read these things when I know that it is just not possible sometimes.
Pamela Pilch's reply from her pediatrician:
All this stuff is really hard because we are talking about statistics and not individual kids. The way I think about it is like this:All of us who were babies in the 60's, 70's and 80's slept on our bellies. For those of us born in the 60's and 70's, our parents also never put us in car seats. Car seats do save lives, because you will never know (heaven forbid) if you will get in a car crash. "Back to Sleep" has also saved lives. We now tell people to put their babies
down on their backs, because we can never know if their kid is going to be the one in a million who will have this faulty "wake up cause you don't have enough oxygen!" control center in their brain. Of course there are known risk factors for SIDS...but even if you are a wealthy/non smoking/breastfeeding family, there are still SIDS cases in
those situations.
I never, ever, ever had a baby who slept on their back. Ever. I hate sleeping on my back. I feel like I'm suffocating, hence why I am up at 11PM, 3 AM, 4 AM blogging: because it is hard to lie on your stomach pregnant and sleep.
When my brothers were born in '83, '85, '87, and my son in '89, the trend was stomach sleeping. When my daughter was born in '93, the trend was side or back, but not stomach. I suppose that is still accurate. If you had the opportunity to take care of babies consistently for like 20 years, you will notice trends start out, get refuted as "bad mothering", and come back into the mainstream. I am not so stupid that I don't understand that there is more evidence supporting the "back to sleep" thing as opposed to what Grandma says versus what her granddaughter claims. But I also question if this research looks at parenting a baby as a whole.
I mentioned, I rarely had a child who sleeps on their back. But I also never had a baby who would allow me to put them down for the first year. Naps have always been in my arms. We don't even own a crib. I had two plus an Arm's Reach Co-Sleeper. They became stuffed animal bins. Not one child of mine allowed me to put them in a crib. I started co-sleeping with my first not because I wanted to take a hardline AP political stance, but because I had a colicky child who left me incredibly sleep deprived, and this was the only way to get any kind of sleep. If I do get 20 minutes with a baby napping out of my arms, they wake up when I am not in their vicinty, especially if I am not in the same room. So yes, occasionally, if the planets are aligned correctly, and if no one else in the house breathes too hard, I might be able to put my child down, and if the breezes are especially non-turbulent, maybe on their back.
I am wondering how prone to SIDS a baby is that spends 85% (at least) of their time if not in their mother's arms, someone's arms? This as opposed to a child who is in daycare, for example?
Pamela's last words on this entry:
I also think there is another issue here - not specifically brought up by my reader, but a concern to many parents. What if parents are so sleep-deprived that they NEED their infant to sleep more so they don't go nuts? The reason belly-sleeping was initiated in the first place was because babies DO sleep longer and more deeply that way. It's just that babies are not necessarily supposed to sleep that long and deeply. But parents are exhausted. What do we do about that?
20 minutes every couple of weeks...
I am not militantly anti-back-sleeper or anything. I just think some of these hard fast rules about what good mothers do are very difficult to translate into practical terms. Personally, I think parenting decisions have to make sense. I don't believe Grandma's advice is always best becasue that is how they have been doing it for years. Breast over bottle, in my opinion, is more sensical-it is cheaper, less work, and stimulates a bond with the baby. If you have to work, it may not be more practical. Cloth diapering is cheaper, but it may be more work if you have 4 kids in diapers. Car seats always make sense, because first and foremost, the alternative is illegal. Past that, I am not even sure the subject needs to be pursued. If you have a term baby from a healthy pregnancy that is in a non-smoking home, with no history of SIDS that absolutely will not sleep on their backs-what does common sense say? Or more to the point, what are mothers going to do in that situation?
A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned I was sick. I got better, but not 100%. I have not been able to shake the exhaustion. It is not simply exhaustion, I have been feeling that since getting pregnant. It is lethargy, and shortness of breath. I just want to sleep all the time and I sense some added blues as well.I am having trouble thinking clearly. It occured to me that I am probably anemic since that is my usual course during pregnancy. I looked up anemia and have all the symptoms except the usual tell-tale pica. I had a check-up yesterday and my doctor put me on prescription iron supplements. I hope they help.
I am awake now. (I have intermittent bouts of insomnia and falling asleep). I was watching a show on Discovery Channel that I like called A Haunting but fell asleep. I woke up to the next show called Most Evil. It is about a doctor from Columbia U. who studies the "why's" of serial killers and ranks them on a scale from 1-22, 22 being the most evil. I woke up in time to hear about the #22 guy for the evening, and to make a long story short without too many details, this guy was different because his victims were children. I got to hear the last story, and now I can't stop cryingh because I keep thinking what if that were my sweet, little Gorbulas?
I am not sure which is worse, that this stuff happens, or that they put it on TV. I mean knowing about it just got me really, really upset. But not knowing about doesn't change what happened. For some reason I think the Discovery Channel is "safe". But sometimes I think these shows are just as bad as any of the other crap, just in the guise of "documentary". If I learned something practical from it, then I would not feel quite as bad.
Yesterday I typed out an excerpt from the book This Is The Faith by Canon Francis Ripley on NFP.
Any practicing Catholic knows the NFP debate is nothing new. The "contraceptive mentality" vs."reponsibility" argument. Neither side really spoke logically to me, and that may simply be because everyone's set of circumstances are slightly different.
Perhaps that is why Humanae Vitae says "grave" and leaves it at that.
I read the following passage a few years ago when I first acquired the book, and I found these few words to be very helpful to me. I liked it because it did not have all the pro-NFP propaganda (which I find annoying, unrealistic and really quite contraceptve in mentality). At the same time, it took into consideration that there are circumstances where NFP might be a valid choice while still sounding pro-family and quite Catholic.
Since I typed it out recently, I thought I would share it.
Continue reading "Once Again...To NFP or to Not NFP, the continuous question" »
A few days ago, USA Today ran an article about an op-ed written by a woman who claims her kids are boring. Actually, if I am correct, she stated her kids are boring, not motherhood? I am not sure.
Freelance journalist Helen Kirwan-Taylor, 42, hit a nerve after the Daily Mail tabloid on Wednesday published her first-person essay under the headline, "Sorry, but my children bore me to death!"Kirwan-Taylor, the mother of two boys, Constantin, 12, and Ivan, 10, says many tasks associated with motherhood are tedious and boring. She'd rather go shopping or have her hair done than attend another child's birthday party. When she takes her kids to movies, she spends the two hours text-messaging friends on her cellphone. She says that when her children were young, she became a workaholic to avoid having to spend time with them. She begged the nanny to read them bedtime stories
(According to the article, I am late in the Mommy Blogosphere to get in on this act, but who cares. I just read the article yesterday and it has been on my mind since.)
The article is more about the response to her article: some people are outraged; others feel she is a trailblazer.
Now, I am an opinionated AP SAHM Mom. However, I think her feelings are right on target. What woman would not rather be having a pedicure than, well anything else? Housewifery is boring. Not only is it boring, it is underappreciated by everybody. You aren’t paid, no one tells you how clever and intelligent you are for alphabetizing the pantry, and kids mess up just what you cleaned up.
Moreover, it is darn lonely.
In addition, kids are somewhat boring. They are kids. In life, most people you do not have common interests with are not boring. Frankly there would be something wrong with me as a 33-year-old woman if I got all excited like my 10-year-old son about the next Resident Evil coming out. To be fair, Posco is not fighting with me over my GK Chesterton book either. (Although I think, this author may have a bit more in common with her twelve year old if she spends hours at a time text messaging her friends. That is a bit juvenile to me.)
Nevertheless, here’s the rub: feeling is one thing, but responsibility is another. Dinner has to be cooked, diapers need to be changed, and books have to be read. I think one of the things that makes someone “responsible� is doing the things you need to when you really, really don’t want to. The difference between a good mother and a bad mother is not if you just love changing diapers or if you hate changing diapers. Regardless of how you feel, the diapers need to be changed. Not changing the diapers because you admit you are in touch with your true feelings of the situation does not make you some kind of pioneer for women’s rights; it makes you a bad mother.
I forget where I saw this (NYT -- registration), but it is a scream:
AS I wash dishes at the kitchen sink, my husband paces behind me, irritated. "Have you seen my keys?" he snarls, then huffs out a loud sigh and stomps from the room with our dog, Dixie, at his heels,In the past I would have been right behind Dixie. I would have turned off the faucet and joined the hunt while trying to soothe my husband with bromides like, "Don't worry, they'll turn up." But that only made him angrier, and a simple case of missing keys soon would become a full-blown angst-ridden drama starring the two of us and our poor nervous dog.
Now, I focus on the wet dish in my hands. I don't turn around. I don't say a word. I'm using a technique I learned from a dolphin trainer.
I usually don't like articles about "husband training" with that whole "husbands are stupid" vibe, but I got a kick out of this one.
After two years of exotic animal training, my marriage is far smoother, my husband much easier to love. I used to take his faults personally; his dirty clothes on the floor were an affront, a symbol of how he didn't care enough about me. But thinking of my husband as an exotic species gave me the distance I needed to consider our differences more objectively.I adopted the trainers' motto: "It's never the animal's fault." When my training attempts failed, I didn't blame Scott.... I dissected my own behavior, considered how my actions might inadvertently fuel his.
I'm totally going to take notes.
My husband would like to view the probated wills of his grandparents who lived in Puerto Rico. He has reason to believe he was named in them as his grandparents took care of him when he was small. His father who is the executor of the wills will not show them to him. We understand they are public record, but do not know how to obtain them as we are in New York State, and these affairs were settled in Puerto Rico. If anyone can offer some advice, please, I am listening.
Now that it's summer, I hate the idea of taking time to cook vegetables. I don't mind it, but when you think of summer, you think potato salad, and cole slaw, that sort of thing. I am worried about my children not getting enough veggies. We eat lots of green salad, but that can get boring after a while too.
How do you get vegetables into your kids during summer? They are pretty good as far as eating veggies, and during the day they snack on carrots, celery, apples and bananas. Dinner is the problem. I am not the type to just steam some broccoli and serve it either.But when it is grill time, no one really pays attention to the veggies.
One thing I do with green beans is I steam them, toss them with some garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil and balsamic vinegar, chill and serve (or serve warm). But like salad, you can only serve that so many times.
Is there any reason why I have to put clothes on my 19-month old (besides a diaper), when the temps are in the 80s to 90s, we are not going anywhwere and no one is coming over?
Hambet has been on a crime spree lately, and I have been stalking around muttering about how it's a miracle you haven't seen me on the eleven o'clock news yet, or how it's a miracle that he made it to his fifth birthday (which was on February 22.)
How easy it is to forget. How easy it is to take things for granted -- God forgive me, to take even a child for granted. Hambet was a miracle baby. He arrived after four years of anguished prayer on February 22, 2001. He turned five on February 22, 2006.
February 22, 2006 was the same day that Elena entered eternal life. She would have been seven this Friday. Pray for us, little Elena.
I am just horrible with that book. It is one of my favorite children's boook, and I think I have two copies. I bought it when Rosey Posey was very small. But to this day, I cannot read the whole thing, I always break up and start crying.
It embarrases the heck out of Rosey Posey. She always starts saying "um, Mom...Mom, stop it..." so I had to hide stop reading it. I think she started saying "You are not going to read that book that makes you cry again, are you?"
I am ridiculous because ever since I had kids (not before) I cry very easily. I cry over Publisher's Clearinghouse Commercials. Well, I was always silly, but I got worse after having children. Hormones.
This year we are doing Five in A Row with Fastolph, and Clown of God is on the reading list.FIAR I think is widely toted as a homeschooling resource, but I do not think it is limited to home schooling. It is a lot of fun and doesn't take too much time, so I think it would be an equally great school supplemental.
Baby Fredagar during the day is the cutest, happiest baby. He spends his time exploring with a sweet smile on his face. He is very pleasant and easy going until come evening.
At night I have to be his human pacifier. If I roll over, he wakes up. If I go to the bathroom, he wakes up. I am so tired. He becomes the exact opposite of his day self. I do hope he outgrows this soon.
There were no "teenagers" before World War II. Ask those still living who raised their children before then. Or spend a rainy Saturday in the basement of your library, comparing old Life magazines from before the War and after.1Instead of Teenagers, there were Youths. Youths were young people who wanted to become adults. However confused, wayward, or silly they acted, however many mistakes they made, they looked to the future. They knew that adult life was different than a child's life. They planned to grow up, leave childhood behind, and become adults. They were aware that life is more than youth.
The Teenager has no such horizon. Beyond the "Teeny" world there is no adult life, no past with heroes, no future with goals.
Pansy and Peony hate Bratz. Even Rosey-Posey hates Bratz.
In the interest of, let's say, marketing research, what precisely do we hate about them? There are so many reasons, I know. Let's list 'em all: the skanky clothes, the marketing to little girls, the whole it's-all-about-the-mall concept....
But, you know, even if the Bratz underwent total makeovers of their soulz -- ditched their vinyl-headed boyfriendz, wore modest clothing, joined their school's chapter of the Junior Engineering and Technical Society, started a chapter of Little Flowerz at their church and washed cars to pay their way to the next World Youth Day, and dropped the annoying habit of using "z" for "s" -- even if they did all that, I still wouldn't like them. The giant eyes, enormous lips, teeny bodies and big feet... they're just ugly dolls.
When your toddler is doing that annoying, inconsolable, whiney thing from either the need for a nap, or more of a nap, don't run away or lock yourself in the closet! Hand them a slice of bread with some Nutella on it. That will bring silence back real quick.
Baby Fredegar is in the need for more food. Normally I hate to give them solids before 12 months, but the boy is hungry. He wants to nurse all the time.
My husband started giving him jars of fruit and peas and he inhales them. So this morning I tried whizzing some oats and mixing them with bananas. I hate using jarred foods because the initials foods are always applesauce, bananas-things that are basically constipating. I guess Cheerios aren't constipating. He hated the oats, but the faces he made were so funny. He would take a bite and object, and then giggle.
OK, I will not lie, this is just a blatant excuse to share one of my greatest joys-my Sweet Baby.
Fastolph walked in looking all forlorn.
Fastolph: Oh, moan
Polo:What's wrong with you?
Fastolph:Posco! He wants to play a stupid game where everyone dies except Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow!!
I guess I can't say I blame him.
I often have this vision: God has precious, brand new baby souls that are about to be sent to earth on an assembly line. He is touching their sweet little heads and gifting them with the grace of common sense. He reaches Fastolph and St. Michael calls God and "Hey God, we need your help! That Moloch roused Ted Kennedy out of a drunken stupor and he's talking again...Words coming from his mouth-not a good thing." So God looks away from the assembly line for just an instant and accidently misses Fastolph. Poor Fastolph gets jipped the Common Sense grace.
OK, OK. I know the Ted Kennedy thing was bad taste. And I know God doesn't make mistakes. But I tell ya, this kid brings this imagery to mind-a lot.
Our farm, prior to our living here was an ostrich farm. In the chick barn, there was an incubator filled with ostrich eggs. The first task my husband accomplished was to get rid of these old eggs. Have you ever seen an ostrich egg? Think big. Think dinosaur eggs.
Now the kids like to explore the farm which is usually OK. They have found things that little boys find fascinating like an ostrich skeleton in the fields. Yesterday Fastolph stumbled upon an old ostrich egg in the fields. Now everyone knows if you find a teeny little old chicken egg, you don't want to break it. We have lived here nearly two years. You don't want to break an old rotten ostrich egg, do you? Do you see where I am going with this? As if he wasn't stinky enough from the skunk!
I feel the need to blog about these events to keep a record to look back on and have a good laugh. My mother says I just print out this journal one day, edit it and publish it.
I don't know what I would do if I didn't have at least one little girl. My boys live on such a different plane of existence that I cannot relate to. They wrestle, they watch baseball, they put their clothes on backwards and don't care and run and yell a lot. Why is it whenever you take pictures of them after a certain age, they are always making faces like this into the camera?
Rosey Posey is officially 12 and she is a cross between lots of girlie fun and well extreme emotions. The emotional aspect is confusing. She starts to cry over things that seem very silly to those of us anchored in a more even hormonal existance.But when she is normal, it is fun to talk clothes and hair with someone. The only thing is by virtue of the fact that I am her mother I seem to automatically earn extra "corny" points. I guess that is a given. My cyber friends however are much cooler than me. Peony is cool because she has good taste in books and admits to blowing up her oatmeal in the microwave like Rosey Posey does. Patty is cool because she likes 50 Cent and uses the term "wankster" (I don't like "Fit-tee" that much so I am not as cool). Dinka is pretty and exotic and "wow, she's from Europe" and speaks a bunch of languages...How come I'm not cool for picking cool friends?
Well, anyway, I am glad the God blessed me with one female.
A week ago (Friday) we brought Gorbulas to the doctor because he was whiney and feverish. The doctor diagnosed him with an ear infection and gave him 5 days of amoxicillin. They also tested him for strep and he tested negative. I was surprised because I haven't seen amoxicillin in years. The family practice group I go to does not prescribe antibiotics liberally, so I figured it was necessary. I gave him amoxicillin for four days and he did not get better. On Saturday I called the doctor and said he is not better and the doctor told me not to worry, 24 hours is too early to see any effect of the abx. Now, in the past, I worked in a daycare when Rosey Posey and Posco were small. They came to work with me and got every illness that went through there. Rosey Posey never went any longer that 3 weeks without abx for her first three years. Posco ended up with tubes. But my point is I am unfortunately well versed in the whole repeated antibiotics/ear infection protocol.
On Monday morning we brought him back. At this point he had not eaten since Friday. He tested positive for strep and the doctor switched him augmentin. I was shocked because He instantly started with the nasty yeast infection diaper rash. So I gave him yogurt and acidophillus for toddlers. I would sit there with the blow dryer and dry out his bottom and spritz it with baking soda and water and apply anti-fungal cream 2x's a day. Poor baby could not walk he was in so much pain. On Tuesday his diarrhea started to switch over to diapers filled with blood. I instantly panicked inside. I called the doctor and told them what was happening and I was on my way to the ER. The nurse told me to sit tight and the doctor will call me back. So I did. for 4 hours and I called him back. They acted like "well, he is on augmentin and this is a side effect. " I didn't know that. So we discontinued the augmentin, put the poor kid on a liquid diet. I let him eat a few solids yesterday, because he is so hungry, but then he had another bloody diaper. I put him on liquids, but this morning he is hungry again and I let him eat. I do not want to starve him and if he has more bloody stools, the doctor will have to address it.
At least his mood has improved. But this boy has taken a few years off my life, I tell ya. I cannot imagine what parents go through who have major illnesses or God forbid, have to watch their children suffer much worse than the common illnesses.
Update:Gorbulas had another bloody diaper this morning so I brought him back to the doctor. She is going to test his stool for some kind of bacterial in fection, but she thinks it is just irritated from the augmentin. She said to keep him on a bland, dairy-free diet and that should do the trick eventually.
I have been wanting to blog on Judith Warner's article in Newsweek, Mommy Madness that Peony mentioned before, for some time now. But I have this baby that will not let me put him down, and kids and life and stuff. Not only that but Greg Popcak beat me to the punch when he said:
But as I read the article above, I realized that "Perfect Madness" is not about being a perfect mom. Its about trying to look like a perfect mom to everybody else. Books like this blame motherhood for a problem that has nothing to do with motherhood. Rather, the problem described by Perfect Madness has everything to do with the idea that "my identity is tied up in getting the approval of my peers for how much I can accomplish." That's not motherhood, boys and girls. That's secular feminism. Or, to be perfectly Catholic about it, its just the plain old sin of pride riding aroud in an SUV.I know it's lame to say "I meant to say that", but I was thinking the same thing. Oh well, Greg words it better than I ever could.
Like Greg, it took me a bit to put my finger on exactly what bothered me about this article. I know I am somewhat of a zealot when it comes to my "I'm my kids' Mom" philosphy. I guess that's a symptom of being the daughter of a deacon developmental psychologist whose research focused on Daycare Syndrome and Absent Father Syndromeat one point.
So, when I put my militant SAHMism aside and tried to read the article with an open mind, there were some points I agreed with. For example:
Some of the mothers appeared to have lost nearly all sense of themselves as adult women. They dressed in kids' clothes—overall shorts and go-anywhere sandals. They ate kids' foods. They were so depleted by the affection and care they lavished upon their small children that they had no energy left, not just for sex, but for feeling like a sexual being. "That part of my life is completely dead," a working mother of two told me. "I don't even miss it. It feels like it belongs to another life. Like I was another person."
We need incentives like tax subsidies to encourage corporations to adopt family-friendly policies.We need government-mandated child care standards and quality controls that can remove the fear and dread many working mothers feel when they leave their children with others.
We need flexible, affordable, locally available, high-quality part-time day care so that stay-at-home moms can get a life of their own. This shouldn't, these days, be such a pipe dream. After all, in his State of the Union message, President Bush reaffirmed his support of (which, one assumes, includes support of funding for) "faith-based and community groups." I lived in France before moving to Washington, and there, my elder daughter attended two wonderful, affordable, top-quality part-time pre-schools, which were essentially meant to give stay-at-home moms a helping hand. One was run by a neighborhood co-op and the other by a Catholic organization. Government subsidies kept tuition rates low. A sliding scale of fees brought some diversity. Government standards meant that the staffers were all trained in the proper care of young children. My then 18-month-old daughter painted and heard stories and ate cookies for the sum total in fees of about $150 a month. (This solution may be French—but do we have to bash it?)
We need new initiatives to make it possible for mothers to work part-time (something most mothers say they want to do) by creating vouchers or bigger tax credits to make child care more affordable, by making health insurance available and affordable for part-time workers and by generally making life less expensive and stressful for middle-class families so that mothers (and fathers) could work less without risking their children's financial future. Or even, if they felt the need, could stay home with their children for a while.
In general, we need to alleviate the economic pressures that currently make so many families' lives so high-pressured, through progressive tax policies that would transfer our nation's wealth back to the middle class. So that mothers and fathers could stop running like lunatics, and start spending real quality—and quantity—time with their children. And so that motherhood could stop being the awful burden it is for so many women today and instead become something more like a joy.
Not only is physical/emotional support for Moms whaning, motherhood is simply not respected.
Neither do we need to pat the backs of working mothers, or "reward" moms who stay at home, or "valorize" motherhood, generally, by acknowledging that it's "the toughest job in the world."Actually we do need that. Not as a mission statement, but as a culture. we need an appreciation that motherhood is hard work and that if you support and appreciate healthy, happy mothers, you are supporting the next generation. Motherhood is seen as something that happens when you were too stupid to get better info on birth control devices. Kids are seen as some kind of disease and the end of a happy life. If that were not so, we would not kill them in the womb. Now I cannot change societies perspectives, but I think the perspectives have a lot to do with the problems many Moms have.
The other aspect I think that is missing from the article is the Christian one. motherhood is a work of service. It is the result of love and it is God's work. this is not to deny how hard it is, but the flip side is it brings much joy as well. There are very few things in this world if at all that are worth anything that do not have pain attached. Look at Jesus on the Cross. Labor and birth. Night and day. Again, this is not a solution always, but perspective helps. When you have a better sense of purpose about motherhood being a part of the bigger picture, rather than just simply something you decided to try out, these issues may seem like more of a struggle that you need to work through rather than a hopeless pit of bad choices and despair.
Over at Times Against Humanity, Earl has a good article up on marketing to kids.
The amount of money and expertise spent marketing to children -- who are mentally almost powerless against advertisers -- is really disturbing.
When I was packing for our trip, reader Sandy commented,
"Crayola makes that modelling clay. It beats PlayDoh hands down for airplane travel. I prefer PlayDoh for the kitchen table, but that Crayola stuff is GOLDEN for air travel."
Now I'm intrigued. What are the comparative merits of Crayola clay v. Play-Doh? Up to know I've just given Hambet homemade clay, but I hate the way it gets all sticky.
By the way, Hambet did great on the plane. The only difficult part was when he was wide awake and ready to be entertained, and I was falling asleep on my feet and too sleepy to read. A toy airplane, a couple of new books, and the airplane's music system all provided ample entertainment.
"why did you draw pictures on Nana and Boompa's walls? You know you are not supposed to do that?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry...I...I...I..."
"Yes?"
"Well, I had to use the walls because nobody got me some paper!"
I wake up each morning to see my kids dressed, the place clean, to prepare breakfast in a timely fashion and to an uneventful school day-not.
In reality I am seriously stressing out because I cannot seem to get anything done at all. Baby Fredegar likes to be held. I can't blame him, he is so small and needs me, and frankly I like holding him. But it's like I get 2 minutes here and 2 minutes there to get breakfast done, to cook, to clean the bathroom, to feed the cats, etc. Polo is working long Christmas hours which adds to the problem. The two older kids help, but they do it in that kid way. I don't want to say "half assed" because they do their best, but it is never how I would do it. The other thing that drives me nuts is the older kids use the fact that stuff needs to be done as an opportunity to order the younger ones around. I spend a lot of time wondering if I put too much on their shoulders, which in reflection, I don't think so. I know a major part of my problem is I am kind of OCD and I'm a little more stressed about the state of my home than I really should be considering how old Baby Fredegar. But also, since we had the new baby, I was so blase"oh sure, another baby, I can handle that..." like it was no big deal, being this Catholic, open to life, cooking from scratch, attachment parenting, homeschooling Supermom and all that I like to envision myself as, I never stopped to think how much of an illusion that is without at least bit of practice with each new addition. I need to reformulate my new routines and I really need to reformulate the kids routines before I throw them all out.
Then I need to take a break somehow-this weekend, get a grip, and eat more chocolate.
I'm also stressing because I'm seeing my grandmother for Christmas-which I'm looking forward to, but she is starting on about how I am small and I need to make sure I control my weight. Gosh, can't I wait until after Christmas because I needmy chocolate? I'll let you in on a secret, my mother gave me a bag of mini-Twix bars for my birthday and I'm not sharing them with the kids.
Pansy: Rosey Posey, why are your feet naked?
Rosey Posey:They are not naked, they are simply uncovered.
Pansy: Well, where aare your socks?
Pansy was wondering because a. it's cold and b. if her socks are not on her feet, then they are probably strewn about somewhere...
Rosey Posey: Oh, they got wet, so they are on the stove getting warm.
Pansy: Oh, but aren't your feet cold?
Rosey Posey: Well, no! They are just...unwarm!
Why is it whenever a little baby smiles, people always say "it's just gas." Since when does gas make people smile? Like I have never sat there with like a girlfriend and they spontaneously giggle and I say "what?" and they say "oh nothing, just gas." So why is that the case when you are like 1 month and younger?
This morning I had Baby Dominic (I have to start using his hobbit name, but I keep forgetting it) in the sling while I was making pancakes. He was staring at me with his little eyeballs and I tickled him under his chin. And he gave me a big smile! Happy moment!
Update: Baby Fredegar.
Gorbulas is having a cute moment as well. He has a bowl of Chicken and Stars soup in front of him and he keeps asking "Is hot syoop?"
"Yes, hot soup"
"Is hot syoop?"
"Yes, hot! Blow."
"Is hot syoop?"
"YES!"
Regnum Christi recently started a La Familias group in my area. I was very excited to join because I have been waiting for something of this sort for a long time. I have only been a couple of times, but I am enjoying reading about the Pope's words on marriage and the family with other women.
Last week I think I stepped on some toes. One of the discussion questions was "how do we protect our families from evil in the world?" The answers started flowing out "turn off the TV", "only wear dresses", "homeschool". Someone said "build a strong personal relationship with your children" which is the answer that made the most sense.
I have been struggling for the past year with the fact that most of the homeschooling teens I see around here in real life are not ones I would have my children around. Before we started homeschooling, there was a great deal of propaganda that if you homeschool, your children will not be troubled teens, will be smart and always stay in the faith. It's like the propaganda surrounding NFP. "NFP builds marriages"-whatever. While I think there are always better choices, NFP for example, will not fix a marriage that is in trouble (unless of course the trouble is simply birth control). Same with homeschooling. I see a great deal of good in homeschooling which is why we do so, but not as a cure all over a relationship with your children. Not over putting parenting in God's hands and asking the Holy Spirit to guide you in correct decisions regardless of how much "evil" you try to keep from them.
I do not mean to vent so, but I get kind of discouraged when Catholics get started so much on the "evil in the world" subject. I know I personally am never doing it right in many a Catholic's eyes. I allow my children to watch occasional TV with Spongebob in his underwear, I allow my daughter to wear pants and the list goes on. But I just don't think God cares so much about some of these things. I see so many parents obsessing about the evils of Harry Potter, while their teenage daughters are having aborrtions behind their backs.
My brothers attended traditional parochial schools all their lives. I think the way my parents raised them would qualify as quite evil in many people's eyes. Yet they turned out the way I want my children to turn out. They are funny, down to earth, smart and practice their faith. Sometimes I think the devil puts up issues to distract us from real evil quite literally in front of us. I think that unless I personally develop a better prayer life and conversation with the Holy Spirit, those issues will always distract me from what I really need to do.
Just to clarify, I am not trying to put down anybody's parenting decisions in raising Holy children. I am just vocalising the fact that there are many decisions I have made in the past simply to appear "Holy" to other families on issues that not only did I truly feel made no difference, but made my children feel "weird". I don't think that is what God is calling me to do as a mother. And I just get tired of hearing "I never...that's evil, that's horrible...that secretly means..." and I rarely hear "oh, that was so much fun".
My dear husband has been longing to take Hambet (3 1/2) to his first movie. We all love Pixar around here, but I see that PG on The Incredibles and am having second thoughts.
The thing is that they will give a movie a PG for firing a fantasy weapon (because it looks like a G-U-N) but they will give a movie a G that has all kinds of things hated by parents of preschoolers (name-calling, potty humor, "shut up", and other obnoxious easily imitated behaviors.)
So what do you think? How young is "too young" for a matinee of The Incredibles?
If Target does not get some Thomas the Tank Engine underpants(size 4) in SOON, I think my household is going to fall apart.
My daughter announced that my husband is the most embarrasing father in the whole wide world because of his earrings and that 80's music is very scary.
My brother burned two CD's for her, one of contemporary music (Usher, Sean Paul, MisTeeq etc.) and one 80's CD which she thought was horrible, except Can You Feel The Beat by Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam. We listened to the CD on the way home and jammed. Rob Base, Whodini, Jody Whatley, Shannon, UB40-it was a lot of fun, but man did it make us feel old! I think my daughter almost melted in terror right then and there.
No matter how young you are when you first become parents, there is always that generation gap.
Fastolph came up to me while I was making buckwheat pancakes this morning. He was doing this strange little hobbit looking dance and asked "Mommy, does dancing make you merry?" I was like "huh?" People actually use the word "merry"? I had to ask him three times to repeat himself to be sure I heard him right.
"Yes Fastolph, dancing can make you merry."
Alicia has this neat widget on her blog -- a little picture of the moon's current phase. (At this writing it is waxing gibbous.)
I thought of it last night. We were out running errands and it was getting dark. Hambet usually isn't out that late, and when he caught sight of the moon he grew very excited: "Look! It's the moooooooon!"
So all that evening we were watching the moooooooon. He was quite delighted when he saw that it was following us, so we talked about that and about how the moooon is very far away. He wanted to know what the moooon is made of -- I told him "rocks" and Daddy told him "cheese." Hambet admonished him: "No, Daddy, the moon is made of ROCKS." He grew very upset when we turned north and he couldn't see the moon any more -- "I have to look at the moon! Where is the moon?! I have to look at the moon!" -- and was just as delighted when we turned south again and he could see it out the window. When we got back home he hopped out of the car and ran out into the driveway so he could stand, stock still, his little face pointed at the sky so he could gaze at the moooooon a little longer.
And it had been a while since I'd taken a good look at the mooooon. How crisp and sharp and chalky-white she looked! Even the horrible light pollution couldn't totally obscure the outlines and shadows of her craters.
And I found myself remembering some lines of a poem -- by Sylvia Plath, of all people. I'm not big on Sylvia, but a few lines from this particular poem had stuck with me, and they came back as I looked up:
The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.
"Her hood of bone." I just like that metaphor. The rest of the poem ("Edge") doesn't interest me too much -- I don't have much patience for obscure and morbid -- but it's posted in the Extended Entry if you want to read it.
After a splash in the tub this morning, Hambet rejected the clothes I'd laid out for them and stood up on tippy toes to select his own outfit for the day. He chose:
a pair of khaki shorts
a blue long-sleeved t-shirt with a truck picture
one white sock
one black sock
and his new black winter shoes
(No cartoon characters on the underwear today.)
Hambet (mournfully): "Mommy, Mommy! My Bob underwear! It's gone!"
Peony: "Well, where did you put it?"
Hambet: "I put it in the toilet and now it's gone!"
Well, sure enough, he was not wearing the Bob underwear he was wearing last night, the toilet was running, and there was no underwear floating around. I am still wondering how this could have happened; this particular toilet has a very weak flush. I tried plunging, but didn't have any success. Oh, how I hope I am not having to call a plumber later today. Please, please, please, let him just have been talking about something that happened a couple of weeks ago. (There had been a toilet training accident, and for some reason the sight of his underwear sitting in the toilet to be cleaned made a big impression -- he was talking about it for days afterward; please please please don't let him have tried it this morning.... )
Well yesterday Rosie Posie asked me the question. We were looking at different subjects in science when she declared "I do not want to learn anymore about plants, bugs and birds. I want to learn more about the human body because I have no idea where babies come from."
Posco said "they come from Mommy's belly. God puts them there."
"No, I want to know exactly how God puts them there."
Oh, just when I thought parenting could get no worse than spills, poopy diapers and vomiting. What am I going to do?
So Rosie Posie is at a weird age. On the one hand she answers a great deal of trivia questions, is well read and quite intelligent for a child her age. Then she gets up and walks into a wall that has been there since we have lived here and says "Ow,I didn't know that was there." Is this normal? I don't remember.
When my day starts with demeanor somewhere between Lois from Malcolm in the Middle and that kid from The Exorcist...
yes! YES! That's me this morning! YES!
...sack time is not what is called for.
no, no, don't tell me that!
Time for a little spiritual readjustment.
Sigh. Pull myself together and act like a grownup. Do I hafta?
The one parenting resolution I try never, ever, ever, ever to break is Never Make an Idle Threat. I was going to take Hambet to the County Fair today, but he refused to come to breakfast, finish his milk, or get dressed. So we're not going.
But I don't get the impression that he cares -- he probably doesn't remember the fair all too well from last year. So I will be the only one sulking.
Watching too much television may distort the hormonal balance of adolescents and push many of them into early puberty, say researchers.Italian researchers found children denied access to television for just one week experienced a 30% jump in their melatonin levels....
"Watching TV may speed up puberty""
Thanks to Jeff for this link.
They make no sense! Terrible Two-lings think they can push everyone around and bend everyone to their will. Yet they have not noticed they are quite short. It is 7.30 am and Gorbulus is having a temper tantrum and is all sniffles because he has his coat in hand and is ready to go out and play. Five minutes ago it was because he did not want to wear his shirt but his pajama top over his jeans. What he has fashion sense now?
I should let him out. Usually something terrifying like a butterfly will fly by his face and he starts to panic and cry until someone goes out and rescues him.
One thing I never understood about the whole NFP philosophy is the whole "working with God to postpone children" thing. Now I am not arguing that if you use NFP for a "grave" reason as they say, that it is wrong, or anything like that. I am not debating Church teachings. I am just not Moral Theology Woman on this point and I can spend hours going around in circles wondering "Well, OK, using NFP is working with God, but is not using NFP not working with God?" It's like which came first, the chicken or the egg? Or what would have happened to Colossus' little sister Illyana if she didn't spend those 7 years with Belasco? Would her powers still developed and would she still have died from that mutant virus? Would Colossus still have turned into a brooding angry guy? These things can fry your brain.
So I am thinking about how society has these check points that tell you if it is OK to have another baby such as temperment of the parents, finances, room-all that stuff. They make perfect sense. Logically, I should never have had another child after Fastolph. But I did.
So if logic tells us that I should not have had another child prior, once that extra child is here, it is very hard to argue that should not have been here (chicken and the egg again). My little Gorbulas is such a joy to have around and I cannot imagine life without him nor is there any doubt he should have been here.
Right now he is at that stage where he says a new word each day. He is just as cute as a button. The funny thing is he wants to be taken seriously but he is so short and has such fat cheeks and he is always taking his clothes off. How can you take someone seriously who is walking around wearing nothing but socks and dinosaur slippers?
So I do not understand, if we use NFP because logic dictates we do, but we ahem "oops", is that still working with God's plan or does God change His plans around? Oh well, it is a good thing I do not apply to be Dr. Janet Smith's assistant.
I found the source of the ghost: a Little Golden Book in which the Sesame Street characters put on a play about feelings. To demonstrate "scared", Telly Monster cowers under the bed while other Muppets wear costumes showing scary things like tigers and thunderstorms. Ernie is wearing a ghost costume (the bedsheet with cut out eyes) but his face is covered, so I could see why Hambet didn't realize it was Ernie.
So we had a little chat about how they're just putting on a play, that it was Ernie in the costume and that Telly was just pretending to be frightened, and we have had two nights free of ghosts and monsters.
I am just kicking myself because I know I have to be attentive to what Hambet is seeing, I know little kids don't see things the same way we do, and I still missed this. Oh well, it's not the end of the world, and Hambet doesn't seem to be scarred for life. I have shelved a lot of our potentially scarier home media (most purchased for me before Hambet was born; I love animated movies) and I'll be looking for gentler stories for evenings when we want to cuddle up and see a video together. (I'm thinking Veggies and Winnie-the-Pooh; more suggestions welcome....)
It is interesting that we've been reading this book for months and this only came up now. A friend of mine observed that stories that don't bother her three-year-old son will really affect her five-year-old son, and she thinks it's because her older boy just understands more. And I think the same is true for Hambet. Just in the last three months he's been doing so much more imaginative and pretend play, and it would stand to reason that if he's making up his own stories, he's also taking in more and understanding more of the stories he reads.
This time they showed up at around 1:40 AM, when the parents were too groggy to implement any of the stretegies that sounded so effective in the wakeful daytime.
I think I'll continue with ratcheting the media wayyyyyyyyyyyyy back, and try increasing the cuddle and story time during the day.
Last night my husband and I were slipping off into dreamland when we heard a weird noise. I looked at my husband with that "did you hear that?" look. He'd heard it too, and was sitting up in bed. We listened intently for a moment, and the noise came again. It was kind of a shuffling noise, with a piteous little cry that was starting off soft but was getting louder and louder. And it was coming from Hambet's bed. My dh got up and asked him what was wrong; Hambet tearfully informed us, "There's a ghost under my bed!"
Well, we had the little chat about no-such-thing-as-ghosts; Hambet drifted off to sleep during the chat and was slid, unprotesting, back into his own bed later in the evening. Hambet has told us about monsters before -- in a general way -- but this is the first time we've had any news of ghosts and any supernatural problems at bedtime. So I'll be paying extra attention to where he might be getting this from.
I hope we can get this ghost out of the house soon; I am not interested in getting into chasing ghosts, monsters, and assorted paranormal brethren every night. Maybe I can just squish it like a bug, since it must be very tiny to be able to fit under a junior bed.
Yes, postpartem I want to be a superskinny superhottie. Yes, this is something I am slightly insecure and 'noid about. I think everyone was one totally shallow reason in their arsenal about why, if they were not Catholic and didn't have a clue, they would use artificial means to space babies. Mine is that everytime I get down to a shape I like, I get pregnant again. And it is getting harder and harder to return back. I remember leaving the hospital in my old jeans with my first two. Now, groan. With Gorbulas I was in baggy stuff for what seemed forever. My midwife said to give the belly 9 weeks to go down. Yuck, 9 weeks of walking around looking pregnant? I think I was going back to normal clothes by week 3 or 4 because I know I let myself leave the house around then and fit into normal clothes. I also joined Weight Watchers four weeks postpartem. I was so determined.
Not that I mind looking pregnant when I am pregnant. As a matter of fact it is one of the times I feel lovliest. Quite frankly it is really neat to be able to walk around with a bulging belly and feel absolutely perfect. But you cannot totally blame me for being so shallow. You can blame me some, but I'm and odd person, I am a perfectionist in many areas, my favourite show is Spongebob, I teach the kids how to do the hustle for a homeschooling class and quiz them on KC and the Sunshine bad-I guess maybe I am not reasonably well-adjusted.
See, but part of it you can't totally blame me for my shallowidity. Go shopping ladies, go ahead. Walk into an Old Navy. Why are all the jeans cut just under that postpartem belly? Yes, of course I wear a longer shirt over it-yikes I don't want nobody looking at my stretch marks-but the cuts are just perfect for taking that little pocket of belly and making it stick out under your clothes. Um, ick. Hey, I'm starting to have a revelation! I think that these styles were not intended for the average woman who has had a baby! They are intended to attract someone of the opposite sex. Usually, attracting someone of the opposite sex results in a postpartem belly. Then your clothing becomes almost asexual. These days though I cannot complain like I did ten years ago when I had Rosey Posey.That all nursing and maternity clothes are totally unattractive, they have gotten much better. But what I cannot fathom is why many clothes geared towards women of childbearing age very often try to lean towards "sexy" except at the times in your life when "hello", it is obvious you had sex. And no, I am not looking to be a sexy Mama, just an average looking young adult Mama.
Now here is part two why you cannot blame me. Madonna. Sarah Jessica Parker. Now we have celebrities having babies, which is probably who I have to thank that maternity clothes are not limited to shapless dresses with Peter Pan collars. But now we are more unforgiving to women who do not bounce right back. I have seen it. I have been to baby showers of my cousin's daughter and heard family gossip about how heavy my cousin looks at 6 weeks postpartem. Now here we are what is supposed to be a joyful family event, but you have to train to keep gossip of loved ones away. Good grief. Aha, see another reason you cannot blame me for being so incredibly shallow: crazy family who had maybe one kid and watches way too much TV and has very unrealistic expectations of what a real postpartem woman looks like. It's not like the average person is having 4+ kids anymore and my mother and I concur that it's that third or fourth kid that really devastates your body.
I had a small stint when Fastolph was a baby that I was heavier than I should be-a size 10. My grandmother would call me up to say "Oh Pansy, I am making a novena for you so you lose all that weight. I am so worried about you because you are starting to look matronly and you are too young to look matronly." When I sent her a copy of this picture from Posco's First Holy Communion all she said was "You gained weight again? You look so heavy there." Hmmm. "nice picture", "good job on the suit", "Posco looks cute" would have sufficed.
Why are we so unforgiving to women who chose motherhood? I mean in a real world, you would think the slightly more curvaceous figure would be an added sign of femininity, not ugliness. Why has androgyny become more of a symbol of sexuality? I don't know, I am confused now. Everytime I think about the hypocracies of modern society, my head hurts and I need to eat something.
We need more saints who did things like drive backhoes and use tools and work in zoos and fire off cannons. It's always good to have saints, but saints from these occupations would really help me. Hambet is completely uninterested in the sappy preschool religous books that show children frolicking around a meadow having picnics. He likes dinosaurs, hand tools, construction equipment, trains, boats. He wants pictures with action. I would like to bring exclusively religious books to keep him occupied at Mass, but the book that really keeps his attention -- for 20 minutes at a shot! -- is a Richard Scarry book, What do People Do All Day, which has lots of cool diagrams showing how paper is made and how roads get laid and how firefighters fight fires. If I could just find a book that somehow combined heavy machinery with sacred topics, we would be in business.
Hambet does like this book of lift-the-flap Bible stories. The first picture shows the Garden of Eden, with details illustrating the days of creation. One of the flaps shows an erupting volcano. Hambet loves the erupting volcano, and we usually end up discussing that volcano for quite a while when we read this book. Noah's Ark is cool, too, and he's starting to like pictures of the Parting of the Red Sea, and the men who cut the hole in the roof (with a saw!) to bring their friend to Jesus. The men who built their houses on the sand and on the rock are good, too, because there's building involved. I think St Peter might also become a favorite, because he has a boat.
I tried mentioning to Hambet that God made volcanoes, and that piqued his interest, especially when I told him that God made dinosaurs too. He took his stuffed T.Rex and started enumerating all the parts God had made: "God made Rex, and teef, and feet, and claws, and dinosaur's eyes, and his tail...."
Later we were driving in the evening and the sun was setting. Hambet commented that the sun was going to bed ("in his very own bed") so I tried it again: "God made the sun." Hambet seemed interested again, and immediately asked, "Did God make cement mixers?"
I told him that God made Hambet. He seemed doubtful. God's making Mommy didn't seem to impress him either. But when I let him in on the fact that God made Daddy -- now that was something.
HMS Blog addresses families' unhappy reactions to a new addition to a large-ish family.
I would like to kick off this coversation with a reminder that Gaudium et Spes #50 that tells us that parents have the obligation--in the sight of God--to prayerfully decide what is God's plan for the size of their family. While parents are obliged to take into account the interests of the Church, the other children in the family, and other factors, no one else may interfere in that decision. And no one can ordain themselves to do what the Church herself does not ordain herself to do, specifically, to tell parents when and when not to have another child. We rejoice in every life given to us, and we pray that each of us would be open to God's unique plan for our lives. Period.
My brother who read my blog weighs in that what I need is a more creative way to tell people-like they do on TV.
The only problem is that you didn't tell people in a creative way. They didn't have blogs on "Full House." When Rebecca was pregnant, she told Jesse in a game of Pictionary. So, when you play Pictionary like every family does on Friday nights, you need to tell everyone that you're doing a movie title, and when Jesse guesses, he's gonna say "cheese half-ink a baby." The whole audience will laugh, especially when he shows up to the hospital dressed as Fred Flintstone and needs his apendix removed. Or if you have a bigoted father-in-law named Archie, he could show up to the hospital in black face, but I don't think too many people would appreciate that. Or if your name is Elyse Keaton, you could be stuck in a television station during a snow storm while your husband, Steven, is stuck with the plumber.
Anyways, the moral of the story is that if you want a laugh track, Josh needs to change his name to Jesse Katsopolous, or better yet, Uncle Jesse. I guess you can forget the other stuff, because it obviously isn't as important as the Friday-night games of Pictionary that Michelle loves so much.
This and the episodes of "Family Matters" where Steve Urkel turns into his cool alter-ego, "Stefan," just prove my point that sitcoms teach us a lot about the real world. I'm starting to forget what I was talking about originally, so I'll stop.
Just forget Oreos and eat "Cool J" cookies. ;-)
It has actually been something of a trial trying to figure out when to use "scene" instead of "seen" or "hear" instead of "here". I really thought I was losing my mind. Many people in real life will totally think I have. The Upstate NY Moss's are expecting a new Mossling I am thinking in November sometime.
I haven't told anyone in real life. I am afraid to tell my family, (although one of my brothers might pass by the blog) because I am afraid of the comments. Actually my immediate family will be OK, but the extended family-it will be worse than telling them someone died. I was thinking of simply not telling. My grandmother is literally going to say "oh no, you can't afford this,"
I also have had mixed feelings about the whole thing. I do not feel I like I ever really got into the swing of things after having Gorbulas. My house is never as clean as I like, I am tired, I have been nursing for like five years straight and thought by this summer I would be able to wear a normal one piece dress. I was secretly hoping Gorbulas was my last toddler. No parenting book has given me greater depth into understanding these odd little people who always spill things and make lots of noise, but melt your heart with their mispronunciations and giggles. But God has a sense of humour and come 21 months time, there will be another toddler around.
The flip side there is nothing quite as spiritual as carrying a little baby around inside of you. I do not know if men can relate to this at all, but this one of the most special times in a woman's life. I have been wracking my brain for the past couple of days as to why being pregnant seems to have such a specialness all it's own different from any other stage of motherhood. I cannot come up with many answers except it is the shortest and most fleeting. I have to think on this a little more. This actually the first time I have even admitted this because it seems people pay more attention to the expecting part of parenting than they do children (after you get past the fact that it should have been a perfectly planned situation).
In the meantime, I have little blogging time. I am making pierogies to put in the freezer. As "morning" sickness seems to deepen a bit each day, I want to stock the freezer up with meals that take no effort to cook. We usually end up eating frozen food or out too often at this stage because I cannot stand the site or smell of food, and am so exhausted by the end of the day. I hate doing that because of the expense and lack of good nutritious food for the family. So I am trying to prepare as many healthy meals in advance, maybe an extra meal each day.
A State Trooper just left here. Why? Because my four year old, Fastolph was angry at his brother for "ignoring" him and called 911 on him. I made Fastolph come outside and explain why he called 911 and the Police Officer told him "you can only call the police if there is a real emergency there, Buddy."
I think everyone must have that one child, while incredibly cute and charming at times, brings new definition to the term "Handful".
I can soooo relate! Couldn't have said it better myself, Sister! I always say I never comprehended what "tired" meant until I became a Sleepy Mommy.
I mentioned before my four year old is eating everything in site and it drives me nuts because I view it as gluttony. It is hard to get out of the house to get food with 5 feet tall snow drifts in the path of my front door, so I am very frustrated when I buy a hude bunch of bananas on Sunday, to see my four year old has eaten them all by Monday afternoon and no one else had a chance to have one. Especially when I purchased enough for everyone to have one a day for the week.
I try to cook healthy and yummy meals, and the rest of the family assures me I do.I am also frustrated that after I found Fastolph sitting in the corner of the pantry on a pile of banana peels, he will not eat his dinner.
I know the poor boy is hungry, he waited until dinner last night and practically consummed a pork tenderloin on his own.
I also think he is bored. His siblings do schoolwork all day, and even though I do some with him, his attention span is not very long. Poor guy is sort of in the odd
man out stage.
Alicia offers some constructive advice:
I almost made a comment about the hungry 4 year old - if you are accurate in your discernment that it is gluttony and not hunger, then I don't have a problem. And if you truly are budgeting food that tightly, I think that it is important to meet the needs of all your children, not just one. But I think that I would offer a constantly 'hungry' 4 year old something nutritious but not necessarily tasty to eat - a hungry child will eat whatever is offered, where as a greedy or bored one will whine "I don't like that!". As a child, I was sometimes so hungy that I ate the pith from the inside of my orange peels, and cracked open the prune kernels and ate the 'almond' inside. My mom had a weight problem and had very warped ideas about how much a growing child needed - I now have a weight problem and my own issues with food - but only one of my 6 kids has weight or food issues, and I guess that is all I can ask for (all 4 girls in my family have issues).
While I am somewhat concerned about weight for me, I worry a great deal more about proper nutrition for all the children. Since Gorbulas is an asthmatic, I worry that proper nutrition is his best line of defense from illness. The same is true for all my children. For example I have never said "Fastolph, do not eat anymore of that because you will get fat." (To be honest, I really do not worry about my kids and weight. In a few years they will no longer be able to eat some of the few things that kids enjoy that adults cannot lie French Fries, let them enjoy them now.). I have said however, "Fastolph, you may not have anymore of that because your brother and sister have not had any." Or "Fastolph, how about a glass of milk instead because I would like to see you get some more calcium for your bones, and less sugar that are in those apples..." Or today "Fastolph, you did not finish your lunch, so you may not have snacks until dinner." He wanted to play instead of eat, so I warned him.
If you could name the one book every child should have read by the time they were, let's say thirteen, what would it be?
While it is always fun to get together with extended family over the holidays, these holidays brought a rally of strange comments such as "so, it looks like you are joining a cult...""well, you cannot possibly want anymore children, you can't afford it...""you have to be moderate...""those poor kids, they cannot even watch Charlie Brown's Christmas because you don't have cable...those poor kids...""why does your wife like to wear long skirts? This is 2003..." Many of the same family remarked and were stunned at how well behaved and non-materialistic our children are, yet pity our children for being forced to endure a crazy extreme lifestyle that teaches them to appreciate family and cooperation over material things and self-indulgence(although you may not know it if you were a fly on the wall here).
So, I left the last family get together wondering what exactly is "moderate" or "too extreme"?I suppose moderate means first of all, how much of the secular world are you willing to allow your children exposed too. My husband and I thought we were rather "moderate" because we do not believe in cutting something secular out, for no other reason than it is secular.
Over at Summa Mamas, SmockMomma blogs about discipline at Mass.
I have absulutely nothing to add because I am truly brain dead on the subject. When I was a mother of two very well behaved children, I thought I knew all the answers. As the kids keep coming and as they get older, the more I realise I have even less answers. I also know I haven't even hit the tip of the iceberg because I have not raised teenagers yet. For this reason, I offer little advice, but prefer to listen. I can share what worked for me in certain sitiuations,but it varies in my own family from child to child.
It amazes me the older I get, how little I knew. I think I should have been a parent when I was 16. I knew everything then.
here. I am frantically busy today and won't have time to address her objections point by point.
Michelle's first principle seems to be that breastfeeding in itself is an act that, like defecation, "bodily housekeeping," blowing one's nose, and the marital act, should be performed in private.
I believe this premise is incorrect. Breastfeeding is about feeding a baby, and eating is an act that is considered acceptable to perform in public. I wonder if American culture in particular has gotten a little prudish about breastfeeding simply because, with the aggressive marketing of artificial formula, it became so uncommon during the twentieth century. In centuries past, women of means did not breastfeed in public, but they also avoided appearing in public when they were pregnant and even avoided saying the word "pregnant." (For that matter, they avoided the trouble of feeding and caring for their children at all by hiring a wet-nurse.)
My other premise is that mothers who nurse in public should extend courtesy for others around them and make a reasonable effort to keep things under control.
Michelle brings us the news of an amazing new technology called "bottles." I addressed that in a comments box but briefly, some nursing mothers find pumping to be very difficult, especially for an occasional outing. With bottles, you have to buy them, clean them, sanitize them, fill them, bring enough with you, make sure the milk doesn't spoil, warm them when you get there... a different order of planning altogether than choosing a shirt with nursing openings. If the baby drinks only part of the bottle, the rest of it has to be wasted. And, again, what happens if you do all that and still "get caught"?
Bottles are not only an expense and a hassle, they are not always a workable solution. There is a theory of "nipple confusion" that cautions against using artificial nipples or pacifiers at all for very young babies. Slightly older babies may refuse to take a bottle at all, particularly when Mom is there. If a mother has a very young baby or is going to be out and about for a while, there's also the issue of her breasts getting full.
A mother boarding an airplane got hassled about her bottles of expressed breastmilk and was forced by a TSA official to drink some to prove it wasn't some dangerous substance. All that to avoid getting hassled over nursing her baby on the airplane, when she could have just excused herself, turned away, latched on the baby, and provided the baby with fresh clean nourishment (and instant relief from the ear pain caused by pressure changes.)
Michelle notes that the Holy Father describes breastfeeding as "an individual and private act." (emphasis on "private" is hers.) Private doesn't necessarily mean "hidden from the public eye"; the context of the paragraph seems to indicate private in the sense of an individual or family action, as opposed to a big social movement, so that reflecting on the actions and needs of a single nursing mother can lead us to consideration of large societal trends.
"Think of the children!" Answering awkward questions is part of parenthood. If another little child asks, "what is that lady doing?" and the other parent doesn't want to get into it (even with a straighforward answer such as "she's feeding her little baby") how about "she's taking care of her baby"? Should anyone who might prompt an awkward question stay home? Then all people who are pregnant, remarkably fat, disabled, extremely tall, extremely short, speak languages other than English, or wear clothing that's the least bit out of the ordinary should all stay home.
Again, my own experience is that most nursing mothers prefer to seek out a secluded place, but secluded places are not always available.
My father-in-law died when Hambet was three months old. We got an urgent call at six-thirty pm, urging us to hurry to Pennsylvania, as it would be unlikely he'd live through the night. I threw some clothes in a suitcase and we were on the road in an hour. For a week we lived out of a hotel room. I was spending most of the day in the public eye. Was I to pump bottles for eight to twelve hours' worth of feeding a day (plus keeping them cool, and washing and sanitizing the bottles and the pump at night in the hotel room sink?) Was I to stay home and send my husband off for a week?
How about moms who are on vacation?
Hambet was sitting on my lap while I was surfing, and perked up when he saw the picture of Saint Anthony over at Caritate Dei.
Peony: Do you know Who that Baby is?
Hambet: Baby Jesus ("Baaaaaaaaaby JEEEEEEEsus!")
Peony: Right! That's Baby Jesus! and that's Saint Anthony holding Him.
Hambet: (furrows brow, getting upset, angrily addresses monitor:) No no no! Saint Anfony, needs give Baby Jesus back to Mary!
Michelle wonders "....why anyone would need to breastfeed in a public restaurant anyway. Certainly doing so is going to hinder your own eating, which is the point of restaurants. Couldn't you feed the baby before going out to forage in fast-food establishments for your own nourishment?"
This is where many people get confused, nursing is not entirely about nutrition. Nutrition is definately one of the side effects of nursing, but nursing is about bonding and comfort too. Children do not nurse the same way they bottle feed, they nurse and stop, nurse and stop. I often think that once a baby leaves the womb, there is still a long process of the child separating themselves from their mother physically because babies really do not seem to understand right away that they are separate people. Nursing and weaning are a part of that process. People often confuse the two-bottle feeding and nursing while bottle feeding really is a horse of an entirely different colour. It is entirely about nutrition. I think if you never had children or are not in a profession such as a lactation consultant, this is not entirely obvious.
As for going out and being able to put the baby down while you eat-BWAHAHAHA!!!! Good luck! On the other hand I am quite adept at pretending to be an octupus. I amazed ladies at Weight Watchers with my ability to hold Gorbulas on my hip, and put on my high heel zip up boots with one hand and balancing on one foot. Nursing while eating is small potatoes.
Lastly, if you have ever tried to not nurse a baby or toddler who wanted to be nursed, this would cause a much bigger disturbance and commotion than nursing a child in public ever will. If a baby is colicky and screams all the time, a breast maybe the only way to soothe the child. Let's not even talk about stubborn toddlers. Of course, does Mom really need to go to a restaurant once in a while she still has a nursling? Kyeah! Stressed out Mommies are not a pretty sight.
I allude, of course, to Burger King's new corporate policy, which states clearly that mothers who nurse their babies at BK will not be harassed, and that other diners who claim to be offended by the sight of a baby being nourished by the means designed by God will be invited to sit in another spot in the restaurant.
The policy was announced after an incident in a Utah BK on November 8, in which a mother nursing her baby was asked to either nurse in the restroom or leave the restaurant. In giving her that choice, the manager of the restaurant was breaking Utah law, which states a business "may not prohibit a woman's breast-feeding in any location where she otherwise may rightfully be, irrespective of whether the breast is uncovered during or incidental to the breast-feeding." (Nineteen other states have similar laws.)
But it seems like many people think BK made the wrong decision. I first heard about the policy over the weekend, when a local talk show host desperate for some calls was braying "so does this mean she can WHIP IT OUT whenver she wants?" The phrase "WHIP IT OUT" makes me see red, so I changed the channel before I drove the car off the road.
Now I see that Michelle has picked up the topic and reiterates her lack of sympathy for nursing in public (much more politely, of course, than the talk show host.)
Let me first issue my standard disclaimer: Babies have a right to be fed. Nursing babies have a right to nurse. Nursing mothers have the right to nurse their babies, including in public. Nursing mothers have the responsibility to make a reasonable effort to avoid overexposure. I don't care what they do in Scandinavia, nobody wants to see (warning!) this. ("Helsekost" means "health food;" this was a public service announcement.)
But really, is that what we're talking about? I wish that people who dislike nursing in public would be more clear what exactly makes them so uncomfortable. Is it mothers who overexpose themselves out of lack of concern for the feelings of others? Then I'm with them on that point; nursing mothers should be polite just like everyone else.
But the vast majority of nursing mothers are not "whipping" anything out, and are not interested in overexposing themselves. In the Burger King case, the mother was nursing her baby under her sweater. With a little practice, most moms can easily use clothing, slings, and blankets to preserve their modesty while nursing a baby. Check out these photos (scroll down to the bottom) from the Elizabeth Lee website to see what I mean (warning, text alludes to sewing, nursing, shopping, bargain-hunting, and other estrogen-soaked topics.) Are these mothers really invading anyone else's visual privacy? When I talk about nursing a baby in public, that's what I mean.
Is the sight of a woman nursing a baby offensive, even if nothing's showing? Is the mere fact that a breast is in use offensive? Is a nursing mother supposed to just stay home all the time, then, in case the baby might get hungry while she's out and can't find a place to hide?
Michelle wonders "....why anyone would need to breastfeed in a public restaurant anyway. Certainly doing so is going to hinder your own eating, which is the point of restaurants. Couldn't you feed the baby before going out to forage in fast-food establishments for your own nourishment?"
Why would one need to breastfeed in a restaurant? Perhaps because the baby is hungry? Nursing hindering your own eating? Welcome to motherhood! (although one of the nice things about nursing is that, if the baby cooperates, you can feed the baby and still have a free hand to eat, type, manage other children, etc) As for pre-feeding, that's not always an option -- you can't force a nursing baby to eat when he's not hungry. Or you could feed the baby before you go in the restaurant, but find that he's still hungry or thirsty once you get inside.
Let's say you're a mom with a nursling and a couple of older children. You've been running errands and are still a long drive from home; maybe you're travelling. Your baby fell asleep in the car, and your older children fed in a hurry because they're hungry and crabby (and come to think of it, you're getting hungry too.) So you feed the older kids, get a bite to eat yourself, and turn the older ones loose to burn off some energy in the ball pit. By now, the baby's waking up from his car-induced slumber and is ready to eat. What do you do? Let the baby scream in hunger while you round up the disappointed siblings, stuff their feet into their shoes and their arms into their coats, and drag them out to the cold car where they just sit there while you feed the baby, twisting yourself behind the steering wheel? Or turn your back to the restaurant, get the baby started, arrange your sweater so nothing's showing, and feed the baby while the other kids play?
I suspect most nursing mothers prefer to find as private a place as possible to nurse, both to avoid attracting unwanted attention ("eeew, that's gross, can't you go sit on the john, tie up the stall for fifteen minutes, and feed your baby there?") and to get a little rest and quiet themselves. But it's not always easy to find a nice, private place. Nordstrom's and IKEA are the only stores I can think of that have mother's rooms. And then what if there are other people with you? Maybe you'd like spend your time out with them, to enjoy that nice dinner with your husband at the table you're paying good money to sit at.
This is a life issue. Pope Pius XII stated that "it is more desirable that the mother should feed her child at her own breast", and Pope John Paul II has also warmly encouraged breastfeeding, noting that nursing mothers need "support." How do we show support to nursing mothers by chasing them out of public places when they try to feed their babies? One of the reasons women don't breast-feed is that they think they'll be tied down at home all the time. They hear people moaning about how unreasonable BK is being, and think they're going to be harassed if they go out to run their errands or get some lunch and find that they need to nurse their baby. It contributes to the idea that babies are troublesome and unwelcome, and that motherhood is drudgery and an end to normal life.
Michelle notes that BK's new policy states that if a customer complains about a breastfeeding mother, the complaining customer is to be offered another place to eat in the restaurant. Michelle's comment: "Ah, the old "If you don't like it, it's your problem" argument. How enlightened and mature; the perfect example for young children."
So instead, BK should offer that same argument ("If you don't like nursing in the john or leaving the restaurant, that's your problem") to a mother who wants to feed her baby?
"Even this brief reflection on the very individual and private act of a mother feeding her infant can lead us to a deep and far-ranging critical rethinking of certain social and economic presuppositions, the negative human and moral consequences of which are becoming more and more difficult to ignore. Certainly, a radical re-examination of many aspects of prevailing socio-economic patterns of work, economic competitiveness and lack of attention to the needs of the family is urgently necessary."
We live on a busy street, so I have taken to asking my Guardian Angel for help getting out of my driveway, particularly if I want to go left.
Today when Hambet and I were out driving around, I heard on the radio that the Massachussets Supreme Court decision would be announced today, so I said the St Michael prayer. I was delighted to hear Hambet pipe up from the back seat, "Gua'dian Angel, hewp us! Mehwy, hewp! Aaaaa-men!"
My little heathen won't stay put in church and won't let me teach him the Sign of the Cross, so I'm glad something's sinking in. Thanks for indulging me in this proud mommy moment.
They are running around outside with ski masks, gloves and their coats on but wide open and unzippered.
Posco(8) and Fastolph (4) were in the backyard raking leaves. In the backyard we have a pond and on occasion what looks like herons (I am not an orinthologist, so I am not sure exactly) come to do whatever it is that they do at the pond. I have no idea what it is, but it looks like they stand there and look at the water.
Now, when the rest of us see the herons there we look out the window, ooh and ah and say "oh, look at that pretty big bird". Not Fastolph. He snuck behind the bushes quietly so he could jump out in front of it and make faces at it. I bet the bird had no idea it was involved in some strange prepetual game of tag. With that, the bird (who was the same height as Fastolph) spread it's wings and flew away.
Now here the part I do not understand, what on earth would perpetuate Fastolph to jump in front of a bird the size of him and make faces at it? That would be the farthest thing from my mind.
Catholics United for the Faith's tract "All Hallows Eve" (requires Adobe Reader)
...Are we compromising our religious beliefs and principles by letting our children, even if innocently, dabble in something that has its origins in evil? As Catholic families, what is our obligation to be consistent and true to our faith?...[more...]
Thanks Karen for the link.
I got an email yesterday saying our homeschooling group is having an All Saint's Party on Saturday in Fonda. Ack, I so do not have any costumes ready because I did not know there would be a party this year until yesterday. Anybody have any ideas for quick, cheap and easy saint costume ideas. I have a ten year old girl whose favourite saint is St. Agnes and eight year old boy and four year old boy. I am going to spare the baby and adults.
if I invented a giant hamster wheel to put my kids in when they seem like they need to burn some sreious energy, it would sell? Very AP, don't you think?
My parents tell that when they were small,all summer long they were left to their own devices to roam the streets and the play grounds of The City at a very young age. When I was 5, I started walking to school on my own in a not so great section of Trenton. I am 10 years older than my oldest brother, and by the time it was time for him to get to school, he was shuttled back and forth by car at a much shorter distance in a suburban area. What changed between then and now? I certainly would never allow a five year old of mine to walk to school by themselves when we lived in Albany. But while I am keeping them safe, my kids seem to be real pinheads when it comes to having any street smarts.
So what came first, did people decide sheltering kids more was a more responsible trend in parenting, or did things just get worse? Maybe a little of both, but more so of the second option. When my parents were children, there was not the horrible dangers we see of the drug culture. My mother also talks about growing up in Harlem when all the neighbors would watch out for each others kids. The flip side is my parents tell me when their parents went to work for summer vacation they would simply drop the kids off at the playground all day. I cannot imagine anyone doing something like that today.
While I think we could all agree leaving kids on the playground to fend for themselves , or even letting 5 year olds walk to school on their own is not idyllic, my brothers and my children seem to lack a great deal of simple street smarts. I am really worried about them. When we go to the Mall, for example, my oldest does not have a sense in what is going on around her. Frankly, I do not know how to teach lessons of basic survival skills in public. It seems to me it is something you learn from experience. However, I am not sure I want to throw my children into situations that teach certain experiences.
I know, I worry a lot about how my children will turn out. But I keep feeling we live in such deceptive times where it is hard to gauge right from wrong, and so much of my job as a Mom is contemplating what the real right thing to do is.
I wrote this like a year ago on MWG...
Also, let me say what AP'ing means to me. It is not a checklist "I co-sleep, check, I have my trusty official 'AP Certified Mom Sling', check, I breastfeed, check..." but it is a philosophy that when you bring a baby into this world, your life changes to lovingly accommodate this person, instead of making this person try to conveniently fit into your life-like trying to put a square peg into a round hole. I don't think our contraceptive culture is very friendly to that type of nurturing. Instead after people finally decide they can have children, then they schedule them and say they are "good" because they are trained to just sit there.
...asks Elinor, in our comments box below.
The short answer: "AP" stands for "attachment parenting."
Pansy and Gorbulas
And the long answer:
Attachment parenting is an approach to raising infants and young children that places a strong emphasis on responding to a baby's needs and fostering a strong, trusting bond between the baby and his parents. Dr. William Sears and his wife Martha (the parents of eight children) are probably AP's most famous faces, but I actually started learning about the AP approach through the writing of Sheila Kippley of the Couple to Couple League. The La Leche League has been advocating this approach for years. There's also some Catholic therapist guy out there with a blog who has written a book and other articles that include information on the AP approach, which he aptly describes as "natural law parenting."
The premise of attachment parenting is that tiny infants need their parents, especially their mothers. (Yes, it does seem strange that we need a parenting book to tell us this, but these are the crazy times we live in....) It rejects the idea that babies cry to "manipulate" their parents.
Some highlights of attachment parenting include breastfeeding "on demand" (i.e., feeding the baby when he's hungry, not just when you think he should be hungry), holding and cuddling the baby when he cries (instead of leaving him to "cry it out"), using a sling or other babywearing gizmo, and sharing sleep.
St. Bloggers who are interested in the AP approach include Alicia the midwife, Davey's mommy and daddy, Dinka, M'Lynn, the Popcaks, Sparki,and Smockmomma (can't speak for the other Summas yet.) (This list was right off the top of my head; apologies in advance to anyone who should be on the list and isn't!)
Mothering with Grace is a website for Catholic moms interested in AP.
UPDATE: Add Bobbi to the list of AP St Blogger's. She also has a list of AP links.
Gorbulas giggles in his sleep. I wonder what he dreams about. I am happy that he has pleasant dreams.
Rosey Posey asked me "Mom, what are leg warmers?"
"Are you watching something from the early eighties? They keep your legs warm."
"Yes, that girl working out was wearing leg warmers. I don't get it, why not wear pants and your legs will stay warm."
"Well, not if you are working out."
"Then wear tights. They look funny."
"Hey, when I was your age I had leg warmers in every colour!"
"Mom, you are scaring me."
Fastolph and Posco were playing their own version of hide and seek:
Fastolph:Scooby-Doo, where are you?
Posco: (voice distant in another room)Rover rere!
Elinor Dashwood blogs on Halloween, and includes practical tips on saint costumes.
... the bottom line in the child's mind is a) dressing up and b) getting candy. Provide those two treats, and they'll be as happy as clams.
Works for me.
In the comments box below, Peony states:
On the other hand, I don't like the attitude of trying to shield ourselves from any taint of the larger culture. It strikes me as being counterproductive -- it deprives us of the chance to evangelize others, and it can set up a false impression to our children and to others that Catholicism = No Fun and Always Being Weird.I kind of agree with this. I did not for a while, but as I see more and more religious Catholic families losing their children I think there is much truth to this. My philosophy on Halloween is it is so much fun, carving pumpkins, going out on a fall evening,getting candy, and playing dress up. I have read so many conflicting stories about whether or not the origins are pagan, Catholic or whatever, and frankly it makes very little difference to me. For our family in upstate NY, 2003, Halloween is is a fun evening out that does not detract from All Saint's Day, or any religious education because we do not elevate to a status of religious holiday. What ever it may have been to others, is not necessarily what it is now to us. (A sad analogy in the reverse would be how Christmas is a celebration of the Birth of Our Saviour started by Catholics and has been reduced by many to nothing more than blatant consumerism.)
I have also been debating this question with things like home schooling. I keep thinking perhaps I should put the children in school for the very reason Peony stated, but I really do not believe my children will be educated like they can be at home. Nor do I believe I would be as involved in their lives, but just likes passing ships.
I wonder how much different motives for doing the same things affect an over
all outcome? I wish I could look into the future and see what would happen if I make different choices. Whatever the choice, if you take something away that is "normal" or fun, it should be replaced with strong family ties, family quality time and a sense of respecting the children's feelings. No matter what, that should always be the case.
I was wondering this morning if all parents think their children do the most horrible things that other people's children do not do. For example, my four year old is always trying to escape-except of course when I tell him to go outside and play. Do other people's children escape or is it only mine? I have no memory of my brothers trying to escape, and my mother assured me they did. As a matter of fact, I recall a time when my middle brother was 8 (he is now an 18 year old freshman at Cornell), he and my mother got into some fight and she told him to take a walk until he calmed down. He took her advice, walked to Sam Goody to purchase himself a Michael Jackson tape. My parents called the police on him and they found him right away. So other people's kids do escape and actually go further than the backyard.
I was feeling a little better about not having the world's worst kids until I received a phone call from an old acquaintance. I was dozing off due to Posco's reading lesson when my friend called. Everyone who was sitting calmly and sedated started running around, tossing things, grabbing cookies and undressed the baby from the waist down who proceeded to leave a present for me on the floor that was intended to stay in the diaper. All it takes is a 15 minute attempt at an adult phone call and now I feel "done" for the day. Dh will not be home until 9.30, seven hours and counting, Ugh.
I do find the Madison's annoying. Also, have you noticed around 1989, Ariel became quite popular? I guess people like naming their kids after mermaids.
Today, Rosey Posey asked me "Mommy, what kind of name is Beyonce?" All I could do is shrug and say "I don't know Baby, I don't know."
Lately it's been medicinal kisses. No matter how hard the bump, how sharp the pinch, Hambet runs up in perfect confidence for a kiss to make it better. The thing that amazes me is that it works!
I actually wanted to share a story that happened just yesterday where I was amazed in the very same way (I know you were talking about St.Therese, but as soon as this happened I had the need to blog about it). Fastolph came up to me with saddest little face because He was riding his bike and fell. He had minor scrapes on the palms of his hands and on his side.
"Mommy, Mommy, I have a boo boo."
"Oh no!"
"Mommy, can you make it better?"
I gave him little kisses on his scrapes and he skipped away instantly smiling and yelling at his older sister "Rosey Posey, Rosey Posey, Mommy made me all better!"
I felt very warm and gooshy inside.
Can someone explain to me the why behind this?
Secret Spells Kayla for Halloween. By day, Barbie, Christie and Kayla are fashionable school girls, by night they turn into magical enchantresses. Each doll comes with 2 outfits, spell book, case, edible poisons and potion cups.
I wonder if there is going to be a great deal of fallout over this.
Eloquent reflections from Alicia, Steven, and Steven's commenters (don't miss MLynn's comments) on taking little ones to Mass.
I wish I had something to add. Even when alone, I fall so easily into distraction and sloth at Mass, and now I am struggling with keeping my child from running berserk in the Church as well. For a while my husband and I took turns going to Mass, but we missed going as a family. We also suspected that leaving Hambet at home wasn't going to teach him a thing about behaving at Mass, and was depriving him of whatever baby graces the Lord has for His littlest ones.
It is getting better. Hambet is getting older, and that helps a lot. Having only a few rules, enforced swiftly and consistently, seems to help too:
Whisper voice!
Stay with Mommy and Daddy! (no running in the aisles)
and the newest, Sit on the seat! (no crawling under the pews)
Yesterday was a particularly bad day (three ejections.) I hate the feeling of the glares in my back: Why can't she keep that kid under control? Maybe I am just imagining that part, but I know Hambet has become widely recognized around the parish -- whever I attend Mass alone, people come up and ask me where he was!
And as I haul him out for the second or third time, I always see other little boys his age sitting placidly on the seats. Sometimes it's because they're munching their way through a bag of Cheerios, but often they're just sitting there. (I see this other places -- Hambet simply refuses to sit still and participate in organized activities, such as a story hour at the library. He'd much rather run around and check the place out.) I always wonder if I have an atypical child, or whether I'm just a bad parent....
In her comment on Pansy's post, Ellyn suggests:
Should it be daycare [in Circle VII] or those who have created a society necessitating the tearing of tiny ones from their mothers' bosoms (literally and figuratively) that gets relegated to that circle? While we're at it...could you add all day kindergarten and pre-school? At least in the cases where the children obviously don't want to be there.
I second that. My husband and I were talking about this last night. When feminists proclaimed that in order to Be Truly Fulfilled, women needed to work instead of wasting their intellects caring for children, it couldn't have worked out better for corporate America. The mass entry of women into the work force drove down the cost of labor, both because there were more workers available and because the custom of "the family wage" went out the window. Then, since Mom was at work, there was nobody at home to do the things she used to do, so the corporations got to take her place by selling those same things back to the family: convenience foods, day care, pet-walking services, restaurant and take-out meals, after-school activities, maid services, ready-made clothing. The upper-class women who wanted to self-actualize themselves at work walked right into the day-care trap, and they dragged the women of the working class in with them.
I also wonder if having the perceived extra money from having two incomes leads some couples to buy things that that they really could live without? I say perceived, because for some couples, by the time they subtract out the cost of working (clothes, gas, taxes, day care, restaurant meals, and so on) their second income doesn't amount to very much. Does all that extra buying drive inflation? I'm sure it has something to do with the high cost of housing around here -- the Washington, DC area has one of the highest numbers of two-income families in the country.
During my second year of nursing school, I had a part-time job as a nursing assistant in a hospital. While I was there, one of the nurses was expecting her first baby. She and her husband had already bought a spiffy new house in an outer suburb, but in order to meet the mortgage, she had to go back to work. She was able to leave her six-week-old baby with relatives, but she was still crying buckets of tears on her first day back at work because she missed her baby so much. But I guess it never occurred to her to sell the house and move to a cheaper one. Another co-worker used to talk about how she longed to stay home, but her family just couldn't afford it. I had to bite my tongue to keep from pointing out that perhaps skipping the yearly vacation to Disneyland would have been a step in the right direction.
Why do so many people now think that normal mothering is finding somebody else to take care of the children? Why are some mothers dropping off their kids at daycare while they themselves go off to work -- as nannies? Why are so many families blind to the changes they could make in their lives to enable a parent to stay home with the kids? Why are so many politicians so committed to the idea that caring for kids and helping families equals even more daycare -- to the idea that the village daycare is the proper place for little children? Is our society blind because it's forgotten how to see? or because it doesn't want to see?
By the way, one of the articles Pansy posted concludes with a good discussion of public policies that would enable more families to have a parent at home with their children.
Keeping kids reading
Today, I found Lynn's blog Scattershot Direct ("Truth, beauty, darkness, and ire, all coming to you directly through the random focus of a Catholic mom, horror writer, and wannabe organic rancher"), which looks full of all kinds of interesting tales and observations. A sample:
the kid agreed that it was rather dubious that the Vatican would ever agree to give priests some sort of bioengineered/nanotechnology modifications, even if it did make them into superior vampire killers....
She's got a three post series on encouraging children to develop the habit of reading (be patient; at this writing her page is loading erratically):
Part One: Harry Potter is an easy book for children to enjoy-- the reading level is not too high for most readers, but it's straightforward enough to appeal to even higher level readers. The action is both swift and predictable-- something is going to happen in each season, there will be danger and jokes, and there will be lots of images which are easy to visualize. Chocolate frogs, say, or a giant bearded groundskeeper, or a ginger-furred tomcat with torn ears. It has a very broad appeal. It gives children a taste of the pleasure that is to be had from reading. And then, when the children attempt to replicate that pleasure by reading another book, the troubles begin....Part Two: Now comes the tricky part: how do you get parents to understand books? You know, something as simple as *more* categorization of juvenile and young adult titles might help a great deal, for the children and their parents. Grouping books of similar reading difficulty and subject together, that might work. Having the shelves organized by topic (there could be a special shelf for seriously depressing, albeit noble and topical novels that are in line to win lots of awards.) How difficult would it be to make sure 10 year old kids can *find* Eager's "Magic" series when they finish HP? It can't be too trying to put game and movie tie-in novels on the same shelf as the video game magazines. (I know, this falls into the area of the big agreements between retailers and companies, but those are evil anyways. Abolish.) What must be overcome, however, is the public perception that books are something esoteric and rare, something you buy only once in a great while. And while I hate to say it, the answer may rely partially on the Evil Corporate Entity that starts with "Wal" and other corporations of that ilk....
Part Three: Unlike television, books allow for a slower and more developed view of character, motivation, and plot. This deeper involvement is what gives books their emotional resonance....
Looks like Lynn lives around San Antonio. Does Blue Bell Ice Cream still have their Cherry Amaretto flavor? If so, I hope she'll scoop herself a nice yummy bowlful for me.
but before you think I am just off the deep end, there is a practical aspect to them as well, which is what sold me on them. When the kids go swimming let's say at the lake, which was where I had in mind, the kids get in the water, get out and run around, get in the water, get out and run around. I go through a ton of wet towels and sandy clothes from putting clothes back on and clothes back off. Sun block back on and sun block back on and on which is a must on her skin. This swimsuit looked like a good alternative to play around in after swimming. Boys are always so much easier because you can throw a T-shirt and they are like dressed.
But I also think that is part of the problems when you dress little girls like mini teenagers. Children like to run and play. Especially girls who have three brothers and three uncles. Clothing should comfortably accomodate that too.
Zoe Romanowsky blogs about Weighing in on Modesty over at HMS:
That there are actually children who can't swim because they're not allowed to wear bathing suits is very troubling. Maybe because I grew up on the coast and spent most of my summers with siblings and neighbors running around in hand-me-down swimsuits and barefeet all day. I don't think you can equate parents who curb TV watching with parents who never let their children appear in anything but skirts/dresses and long pants. To me, this is not modesty. This is fear of the body because of over associating the body with sex. This is a lack of understanding of the theology of the body, and can even be harmful to the children.
I do not think one has to be a religious Catholic to ask this question. Back in my pre religious-Catholic days, when I had no sense of modesty, partied, believed marijauna should be legalised, I never understood the concept of a bikini. I mean you would not walk around outside in your bra and panties, but it is ok if it is made out of blue spandex? I thought perhaps I was being a bit extreme, and since I was a personal trainer and had worked hard for a (ahem) hot bod, I owed it to myself to show it off a bit. I would go shopping and I have a drawer full of bikinis. I never could bring myself to set foot out the house with one on. I wore them like twice, once when I was pregnant because I did not have a maternity bathing suit at the time and put a huge T-shirt over it. The second time, again, I stayed in my shorts and Tee because I was too embarrassed to walk around in mixed company in the equivalent of my underwear.
My daughter feels the same way. Swimming should be fun and it is no fun when you feel like people are staring at your lack of clothing all the time (she also has a much better sense of modesty then I did). I am making her a Wholesome Wear swimsuit for our camping trip next week. My daughter and I are also extremely fair skinned and always end up with bad sunburn, so I am hoping for some relief. See, it is more practical, not just about modesty, sexuality and all that other stuff.
The other extreme is of course prudishness and just plain weirdness. I know families who do not allow the boy siblings and girls siblings go swimming together. Why not? Because Hollywood has over sexualised swimming, can't we bring it back to what it is, a fun physical activity? Sheesh. I mean we can allow them to play dodge ball together, right? Maybe I should not ask that. Again, I should not begrudge families how they spend their time, but it is not "Catholic", but there own sense of lifestyle.
I liked Lisa's story about being a witness by simply looking like you fit in with contemporary culture. I remember moving in with a new roommate who, when she found out I went to Mass regularly, exclaimed, "But you look so normal."Oh yes, I believe we should look as "normal" as possible. I try to stay fashionable and I think for the most part I do OK. More and more though, it is getting harder to find nice clothing that is modest and fashionable, so I think if many a thirty year old looked into my closet, they might find some of it dowdy. It is comprised of mostly long dresses and skirts, true. I do not think any of them scream out "Puritan" as much as "oh, she likes to wear skirts". The point of my clothing choices is not to be Puritanical as much as I got tired of walking by a man and getting that "look". It is not a pleasant form of attention and it is disrespectful. Actually, it makes me sick to the pit of my stomach. When I go out with my husband and children, I want them to see a respectful family.The truth is, I do not want too much attention from my appearance, I just want to blend in, go about my daily business unhindered. So I will take slightly dowdy.
I know many who totally follow the rules of some writing that a priest wrote in the 20's about how women should dress. It is fine if people want to stay covered, I have no problem with that. It is hard because I know every five seconds they are assessing "look how immodest she is, look how she is dressed"-it puts me back to wondering if what I am wearing is acceptable...I am not sure how Christian that is in philosophy and there is something to be said about why the Church does not require a dress code.
My kids have taken to waking up very early in the morning, and watching French cooking shows before school. I wake up to:
Rosey-Posey:"Wow, look at all the butter they use. Hey, they are putting wine in that Coq Au Vin, can kids eat that?"
Posco:"I don't think so, wine is not for kids. I want to eat the chicken stuffed with spinach, but man all that butter! I can't believe it."
Rosey-Posey:"Oh look what they are doing with those apples! And caramel and nuts."
Posco:"Mmmm, nuts! Ooh and clams, I love clams!"
Enter Mom
Rosey-Posey:"Oh Mommy, Good Morning! You should go to Epicurious.com and get a recipe from there! It looks so good even though they use soooo much butter!"
Posco:"Yeah, butter-like a whole thing!"
Little things
Hambet had a good checkup this morning. He's chugging right along on his height and weight (25th and 5th percentile) curves. The doctor did not tell me I was crazy when I produced my little spreadsheet of words, which now has 229 entries and is still an undercount. (Today's new word: "robot.")
The little adventurer has noticed that I have a stash of chocolate revel bars in the freezer door, and has figured out how to push a chair over to the freezer, open the freezer, and help himself. He has not figured out yet that chanting "cookie, cookie, cookie" during the expedition is a good way to get busted.
Dylan has paid us the compliment of a permalink -- thanks! He links to a nice NRO article on Mr. Rogers, written on the occasion of Mr R's retirement.
Thanks also to Brasilianista Aspirante for her permalink!
Feel Good Recipe
3 Cups of baby's giggles 2 1/2 Cups of sunshine 1 Cup of kissies 1 Cup of huggies 1/2 Cup of happiness Put ingredients into a tiny bottle, shake it up, done! For sick days, grouchiness, rainy days and much more!
Speaking of recipes, I attempted to make pizza dough, and the same smooshy thing happened to it again. What's the deal. Oh well, dh and the kids will just have to settle for roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, brown gravy and green beans.
Pansy, apparently you weren't the first to be taken in by that deceitful kangaroo; on Friday I was hearing on the radio that there have been many other complaints from parents suckered in in exactly the same way. Apparently the makers of this digitally animated bait-and-switch scam tweaked and snipped and twiddled until they got that PG rating. The MPAA ratings are such a joke.
