Are the husband and you not getting along like ham and eggs? Marriage counseling too expensive? Never fear! My handy flow chart will help you solve 90% of any discord:
You’re welcome.
Christmas With Kids
Long, boring transactions at a bank or store are worse when children come along.
Cooking is more laborious and terrifying, but kind of cool, when children help.
Christmas is better with children.
I’m looking forward to my kids helping me make a horribly lopsided gingerbread house this year, and hang ornaments upon the tree, and write letters to Santa. I’m enjoying their jumping around with excitement at the fact that Christmas is ONLY 32 DAYS away. We’ve listened to Gene Autry Christmas music already. I will love seeing them quivering with excitement and casting longing looks toward the presents on Christmas morning, while we read the Nativity story to them. I’m anticipating them tearing off paper, playing with one toy after another, and having to be reminded to thank their grandparents or aunts and uncles. I can’t wait for them to pick out a toy for Toys for Tots, or for my daughter to deliver little homemade treats to her teachers and bus driver. They’ve got outdoor decorations, town bows and bells, Santa appearances, maybe some caroling to come, and so do I.
Yes, we must be careful not to drown in the constant assault of consumerism that is pushed our way from late November through December. I think it appropriate, however, for a holiday that celebrates the birth of a child to be so purely and thoroughly enjoyed by children. I do not think Jesus would despise the cookie-making, present-wrapping, and parties surrounding the celebration of His incarnation. I doubt He’s upset by songs about jingle bells, snow, and Santa Claus, even as they ride alongside the hymns that celebrate the advent of the Lord’s Christ. For love and rejoicing and merriment are by no means foreign to Him, and especially the pleasure of a child in all that surrounds Christmas.
May your holiday season be joyful, and may you get to hear the laughter of children this Christmas.
Thanksgiving Poem
(A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius)
Thank God for your Thanksgiving turkey,
Or if a hunter, your Thanksgiving deer.
Vegetarians, thank God for your beans,
And adults, for your Thanksgiving beer.
Thank God for your crazy relations,
For the friends you still have somehow;
For the children who mess up the table,
For the toddler who’s having a cow.
Thanksgiving is not in a vacuum;
We suffer through life all the year.
But even in sorrow, or pain, or great loss,
You can give thanks, although with a tear.
For sorrow reminds us of blessings we’ve lost,
And though these be many or few,
Now yet we’ve this blessing: We’re still above ground,
And God’s work is still for us to do.
Man’s heart is ungrateful and dwells on the ill,
And forgets the good in his way;
So give thanks to the Lord for all He has done,
And stuff yourself Thanksgiving Day.
Happy Thanksgiving, and may your day be filled with warmth, gratitude, and good food.
As With Running in the Hall, So With Sex
One of the “tips” parenting resources like to share is that small children are likelier to obey positive commands than negative commands. Instead of saying “Please stop running,” say “Walk, please.” Instead of telling a toddler to stop making such a mess, ask the toddler to help clean the mess up.
I believe this principle holds good when introducing controversial topics, including sex. Sex is one of those matters that is a Big Deal to everyone concerned; devout Christians don’t want l’il Suzy fornicating in high school, and devout feminists don’t want l’il Bobby pressuring l’il Suzy to have sex with him. So what is the most effective way to indoctrinate our children on this sticky subject (no pun intended)?
The tricky part is that children are unlikely to receive a perfectly consistent set of messages. Adults have an extremely wide variation of beliefs regarding both sex and the way to discuss it with children–everything from “Here, kindergartner, let’s show you a porn flick. In a few years, we’ll send you to a brothel” to “On the night before your wedding, I’ll tell you about this unpleasant duty you’ll need to fulfill in the dark, with your clothes on.” Not to belabor the obvious, but when and where and how to mash various body parts together depends heavily on the worldview of parents and other people, as does the way in which parents and other people communicate their beliefs to their offspring.
This diversity of opinion means that there is no question whether your baby will encounter views opposed to your own–the only question is when. Parents can and should control the “when” to some extent; if you don’t think that your preteen should be viewing hardcore porn, as many 11-year-olds do, you will have to make sure that you restrict his or her internet use. This strikes me as reasonable.
It is unreasonable, though, to attempt to monitor your 21-year-old’s browsing or other communications. If your child is still living at home, you are free to restrict the usage of equipment and bandwidth that you are paying for; at some point, however, little birdie’s gotta fly and be independent. What you should be doing while they’re growing up is to prepare them to make good decisions when they are old enough to make bad decisions. Part of doing so brings me back to the opening of this post: Instead of discussing sex in a negative manner (for example, “No sex before marriage. No sex without the enthusiastic consent of your partner. No unprotected sex”), promote positive values: “The place to have sex is within a marriage. Only have sex with adults able to consent who clearly demonstrate that they want to have sex with you. Use a condom, get on the pill to avoid STDs and unwanted pregnancies.”
A corollary to discussing positive values is simple: Don’t lie to children. When a 3-year-old asks how babies are made, many answers are acceptable depending on the parent and the child; some parents might prefer to keep things very simple indeed, or to give a short sketch of the biology of conception and birth. What is not acceptable is saying that the stork brings babies after they’ve grown on lilypads. Likewise, when a little boy wants to know what to call that dangly bit of him that he uses to pee, don’t make up a cutesy name for it. It is not a “peepee,” it is a penis. And by the way, Son, we keep our penises private. When kids get older, don’t tell them they’ll go blind if they masturbate.
Now, I have delivered the foregoing with all of the confidence of a parent whose oldest child is 5, and whose offspring have not been exposed (no pun intended) to views of sexuality that are in opposition to my own. We shall see how well I’ve been able to indoctrinate them when they’re adults. Nevertheless, I stand by my assertion that when it comes to inculcating the “correct” morals in my children, attempting to do so in a positive rather than a negative manner is likelier to be more successful. What do you think?
Fruits and Vegetables are All Organic
Most parents want to feed their kids a healthy diet. Of course, “a healthy diet” can have many and various meanings, but for now we’ll take it to mean that the children get plenty of fruits and vegetables, don’t stuff themselves on rich foods frequently, and don’t get too much added sugar. (Most parents also compromise on their dietary ideals because of limits to their time, money, and childish preferences; observation of young children leads parents to the conclusion that a diet of mostly chicken nuggets, noodles, and maybe one tolerable vegetable doesn’t seem to hurt them. However, that’s a slightly different issue.)
Many parents I know buy organic produce, free-range eggs and meat, and the occasional organic processed crap for snacks. This is their decision, but take note: Fruits and vegetables are all organic. So are meat and milk. (All of these items are carbon-based substances derived from living organisms.) If you live in the United States at least, the amount of pesticides on conventionally-grown produce is sometimes lesser than that on “organic” produce. You may have other reasons for paying more money for a given product. Maybe you want to support your local farmers and ranchers, which isn’t a bad thing; maybe you dislike the effect of factory-style farming and meat raising on the environment, or think that mass-produced meat is cruel.
However, from a nutritional standpoint, the evidence that organic provides meaningful health benefits is mixed, at best, and probably derives from the fact that people who eat organic tend to be of higher socioeconomic class, which itself is protective. Even modern pesticides are probably harmful to the agricultural workers exposed to them over a long period, especially in countries without strong regulation of pesticide use, but the risks to the average consumer seem to be pretty small. Oh, and GMOs aren’t the devil in plant form, either.
So if you’re getting your fruits, veggies, milk, and meat from the local Aldi’s, congratulations; you’re feeding your kid good stuff. If you’re feeding your kids farmer’s market or home-grown organic produce and local, pasture-raised and free-range meat and eggs, congratulations; you’re also feeding your kid good stuff. Just don’t brag about it to us, or send us diatribes on “the Dirty Dozen.” We’re too busy figuring out ways to prepare our frozen conventional veggies in a tasty manner. Maybe some small-batch organic butter and Himalayan sea salt?
Economics: A Halloween Primer
Since I enjoy being unfashionably late, here are some definitions that should have been posted a week ago:
Capitalism: Sorry, little sib, this candy’s mine. I can’t help it if you got tired and quit halfway through. I’ll trade you these two crappy Laffy Taffy candies for one of your Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, though.
Russian capitalism: Give me some of your candy, or I’ll “accidentally” knock you down when Mom isn’t looking.
Failed-state capitalism: Mom takes a “candy fee” every time she does something for the kid. Want dinner? Hand over that Snickers. Oh, you need to be driven to soccer? That will be a Crunch bar, please.
Socialism: Mom makes all the siblings pool their candy, so even the kid who hardly knocked on any doors gets as much as the kids who went the extra mile (literally).
Communism: Mom pools the candy and puts it away for safekeeping, doling out a piece at a time. Some of the candy is taken out to–er–cover administrative costs. Inquiries about the missing candy lead to time outs for the overcurious.
Law of diminishing returns: Too bad you didn’t find out that the 15th Hershey bar isn’t as good as the first one before you threw up on the rug.
Cost-benefit analysis: When does your exhaustion outweigh the additional candy you could collect by continuing to trick-or-treat?
Opportunity cost: If you trick-or-treat in the thickly populated townhouse neighborhood, you don’t get to visit the rich neighborhood with fewer houses that hands out full-sized candy bars.
Safety net: The extra bag of candy Mom’s purchased for trick-or-treaters that can be used to supplement thin takings or replace them altogether if the prospective trick-or-treater gets sick.
Happy Halloween, folks! It’s only 358 days until the next one!
Thoughtful Appreciation of Other Cultures’ Parenting
When people talk about the good old days of nonmedicalized childbirth, no formula, and other ancient aspects of childbirth, I think to myself that I prefer surviving with a living baby who’s quite likely to live to old age. An appeal to antiquity is never a valid argument, just as appeal to novelty never is, either.
However, it is almost always worth looking at ancient customs and asking why they existed. Talking loudly about how one’s baby is a sickly, ugly girl instead of a fine, healthy boy lest the spirits become jealous as Wang Lung in The Good Earth does might strike us as silly, but it points to the reality that many children died young until quite recently. It is not a good idea to give honey to a baby younger than one year because of the risk of botulism, nor to give teas (which may be made with contaminated water) or other substances to neonates, but the custom of supplementing a woman’s colostrum (or even replacing it entirely) with something else is very common in “traditional” cultures. Why? Well, delayed lactation is pretty common–up to 15% of mothers don’t get their milk in quickly–and even when they do, some newborns take awhile to learn how to suckle and need to be supplemented. Also, recovering from childbirth can be no picnic, and early supplementation means that other people can help feed the baby.
Luckily, today we have infant formula made with sterile water available to meet these needs. When my three-year-old was born, he screamed and screamed until broke down and gave him some formula; we were afraid of sabotaging breastfeeding, because we’d been told by the lactation professionals that formula feeding interferes with breastfeeding. In fact, the reverse is true: Early supplementation with formula increases the chances of successful breastfeeding. Although I disagree with the specific practice of feeding newborns honey and teas, the reasons for doing so were and are sound, and dismissing these ancient practices led to a certain amount of unnecessary pain and suffering.
When talking about approaches to childrearing, then, it is not sensible either to worship “the ways of the ancestors” or to dismiss them as silly practices from a more primitive time. This is equally true of contemporaneous philosophies and practices that have the cachet of being somehow foreign or exotic. I have spoken of my contempt for my American compatriots’ enthusiastic adoption of other countries’ practices, but in doing so I am certainly not expressing contempt for the Danish, French, Chinese, or other parents themselves. Indeed, I am sure that we can learn from the best other cultures have to offer, if we approach them intelligently–asking “What are they trying to accomplish with this practice? How would it look translated to my own circumstances? What would I be trying to accomplish?”
This is very different from saying, “Look at the way the French don’t let their children dominate their lives and make sure they grow up enjoying good food in a healthy manner. Look at the way they behave at the table. We should be like the French!” It is not wrong to think how you can avoid spoiling your children and teach them good manners and proper appreciation for food, but it is foolish to somehow imagine that it is desirable (or even possible) to import a specific vision–and often a limited, stereotyped vision that doesn’t reflect the reality of intracultural diversity–into your family practices.
Probably the best high-level questions you can ask yourself about parenting are, “What are we trying to accomplish?” and “What are our values?” Mind, the answer to the first question will be a hodgepodge of unattainable contradictions, most probably, but we all have dreams. And then we do the best we can, and generally the kids go along with it and do okay.
Why So Negative?
Now, why be mean to an expecting couple by filling their heads with the problems that can occur with pregnancy, labor, and the newborn period, as related in yesterday’s blog post?
One reason: Expectations. A pessimist is a happier person than an optimist, for all pleasure is a surprise to a pessimist whereas an optimist is continually disappointed. Women traumatized by birth are typically not the women who were afraid of it to begin with, but those who were told that natural birth is a lovely, pleasant experience if it isn’t messed up by The Evil Doctors.
The second reason is that many of the sorrows of childbirth and childrearing are common to most parents, but every child brings unique happiness, to mutilate a Tolstoy phrase.
I cannot tell when a parent will feel an overwhelming rush of love for his child. For me, when they finished clearing her airway and cleaning off the meconium, what they placed on my chest wasn’t the small, skinny, wrinkly, red-and-yellow conehead I see in photographs. She was indescribably beautiful. I couldn’t believe that she was real, she was here, she was mine. I cried with happiness and fell hopelessly in love with my daughter, and my gosh, that sounds like the worst kind of cliche but I can’t do any better. The sleep deprivation, crying, etc were pretty awful, but they were all worth it–a sentiment that sounds pretty hollow when written on a page, but is true.
Likewise, a child’s first smile, first successful attempt to roll over, and reaching out and grabbing of a toy brings emotions that are indelible–a real landmark in one’s soul–but very hard to communicate. Parents don’t need to be prepared to be thrilled when their baby puts rings on a spindle, or puzzle pieces back on their board. You can’t and you needn’t prepare someone to listen for the first time to a piece of touching music–the way the music reaches down to their heart and seems to show them the grandeur and the beauty of the universe is an intensely personal experience. You can explain to a student the history, structure, and techniques employed in the second movement of Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto, but you can’t make him feel the joy and the sorrow of that movement’s exquisite beauty.
I do not know how hard a time of it my friends will have with their baby. It may be happy and manageable, or very difficult indeed. It will certainly require adjustment. But I can quite confidently say that no one will need to prepare them for the joy that caring for a new life–their child–will bring them.
A Pep Talk for an Expecting Couple
On Reformation Sunday, we go to a service in the evening that brings together congregants from a few different churches, including the one we used to attend. The dinner beforehand provides a lovely time to catch up with people we haven’t seen in a year. Two of our friends had married, and the wife become pregnant.
“Congratulations,” we say to the beaming couple. Turning to the wife: “How are you feeling?”
“Tired a lot of the time.”
“Oh, yeah, remind me…you’re how far along?”
“About seven months.”
“Unfortunately, it only gets worse from here. But the good news is that by the time your due date comes around, you’ll be so miserable and desperate to stop being pregnant that you won’t even worry about labor!”
Nervous laughter. My husband says, “Tell them how long you were in labor with our first.”
“Ah, yes, about 52 hours! Fun times! Boy, I loooved my epidural…of course you should do whatever pain relief method you want, but may I highly recommend an epidural?”
My husband says cheerily, “It doesn’t always work, though. Remember our friend who had to have a c-section and the epidural didn’t work?”
“Ooh, yeah, that sounds like it really sucks. I think they gave her some gas or something.” Noticing the rather disturbed look on our pregnant friend’s face, I hastily add, “But that’s really unusual. Most of the time epidurals work great.”
“Some women don’t have any medication, you know,” my husband adds.
“And bless ’em, I salute them but it’s not for me.”
Later, we ask our friend how he’s feeling about becoming a parent. He says, “Half excited, half oh-no-what-did-we-get-ourselves-into.”
We nod. “Very normal. Of course, you can’t really prepare. Just don’t worry too much–the baby will be fine.”
“I hope he’s a good sleeper,” says my husband. “Our first was a terrible sleeper.”
“Yup. She’d go ninety minutes, tops, more often an hour at a time before she woke up,” I add. “Every time she cried (and she cried a lot), I felt as if my heart was being ripped into pieces. So, if your baby cries a lot and you’re up all hours of the night and she just won’t be quiet, don’t tell yourself you’re a bad parent or a failure. Just hang in there, because it gets better.”
While spooning more food onto my kids’ plates, I think of something else: “Oh, also, don’t stare into his eyes when he’s, like, four weeks old and wonder if he’s autistic. You also don’t need to look up all of the appropriate, week-by-week activities to do to ensure your kid is developing properly.” I get up to get some more water for the kids. “I didn’t have time for that with my second and third, and guess what? They developed just fine.” I stop to arbitrate a disagreement between the kids. “And, you know, kids aren’t just enormous time, money, and energy suckers. There are really good things about them, too.”
My husband and I pause for a few minutes to think of good things while the boys fight over a piece of bread. “They’re very cute,” I say.
“And they’re little comedians,” he says. “The things they say and do can be so funny!”
“Even funnier than cats!” I chime in.
At this point, my husband’s dragooned into pushing our kids on the swing set, and our friends are looking a bit shell-shocked. Maybe we should have given them a longer pep talk on the joys of parenthood?
Lazy Mother Musings 