Are You Okay?

This is my rant at both sides of the free range vs. helicopter parenting wars.

You'll probably be offended. Sorry not sorry.

Now that you've had your caveat, let's get on to the ranting.

I hate it when parents say, "Man up, you're okay!" after a child falls and hurts themselves. Especially boys. Consider what you're teaching your son: "don't admit that you're hurt, don't ask for help or comfort when you're in pain. You're a man, so man up." Consider for a minute how that translates to adulthood.
Ladies, ever been irritated that your husband is clearly hurting or upset about something but won't talk to you about it/can't admit it? Well, here is where it starts, folks. Consider not teaching your child that it isn't okay to be hurt.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the folks who run screaming to their children, patting them down with anxious hands every time they trip and stumble. Newsflash: kids model their reactions off of yours. Your precious baby is probably not that fragile, but you've taught them to freak out every time they fall down. Stop it. Calm down, they aren't going to die over a skinned knee. If you calm down, they will, too.

Bonkers was running headlong through IKEA one day when he was about 16mos old. Full sprint, and fell sprawled into the concrete walkway- face-first. 4 women went rushing over to him, but I waved them all back. I knelt down and asked calmly, "Hey dude, you okay?"
"I'm okay!" and he was off again.
One woman exclaimed over how tough he was, "but little boys are like that."
I looked her in the eye and responded, "I should hope my daughter would be like that, too. Kids are as tough as you let them be."

I ask Bonkers if he's okay. It lets him make that call- it teaches him to evaluate himself and his injuries, filter the information through the pain (assuming there is pain), and make a decision. If he says, "yes," then he runs off. (If there's blood, I'll probably snag him back and at least pour some water over it) If he says, "No," or starts crying, well, then, he's actually hurting and it's time for the Magic Mommy's Lap Comfort of Amazing, and whatever other first aid is appropriate (currently, band-aids fix everything).
He has learned that if he's hurt, comfort is available and he will not be shamed. He has learned to evaluate and respond. He has learned that I trust him to make his own evaluation of it. He has learned a skill that most adults don't have: responding to a crisis, even a teeny-tiny one.

Why I Refuse to 'Hide' Vegetables

There's a movement in the last several years to 'hide' vegetables in kids foods: veggie chips in fun colors, low-sugar organic jam, grated cauliflower in the mashed potatoes....

This type of picture in my Pinterest feed tends to instantly set me
to foaming at the mouth. 

No.
No.
No.
No, and no again.

I will not hide vegetables from my child and let him grow up thinking that he doesn't eat vegetables.

Bonkers is almost 3 now, and he knows that we have a rule: you try one bite of everything on your plate. Period.
And if I know there's something he loves and will eat to the exclusion of everything else (macaroni and cheese, anyone? He is a toddler, after all), he gets a tiny portion of that, small-to-normal portions of everything else, and he can have more mac-n-cheese after eating the rest of the food.

If I were a good blogger, I'd look up scary-sounding statistics about children thinking they aren't eating vegetables going on to really not eat them as adults and getting various terrifying diseases, but I'm too lazy for that.
And frankly, it's the principle of the thing.
My son doesn't make my menu. We do not make 'second' meals for him. He can eat what we eat, or he can go to bed hungry. Do I mostly avoid foods that he hates? Sure, as much as I avoid the ones I hate, or that my boyfriend does. Do we all occasionally eat stuff we aren't crazy about?
Yes, because that's what polite people do when someone has cooked for them.

Bonkers has also learned that regardless of how one feels about a meal, one thanks the cook for making it.
Because someone put in effort to feed your sorry butt, and you can at least give lip service to appreciating it.

Does that mean I'm a strict, mean, failing-at-attachment-parenting mommy?
Maybe, but let me show you juuuuuust how much I care.
_
Ok, there it is. See that blank space in the line above? That's my care.

See, here's the thing:
Bonkers' first non-breastmilk food was my finger dipped in real Japanese ramen, homemade by the lady who spoke enough English to understand my thank-you and to tell me my 4 week old son was adorable.
He goes to restaurants with us and eats what we eat- we don't do kids' menus. He eats Korean barbeque, Ethiopian injera soaked with the juice from lega tibs, sushi rolls, and (non-spicy) curries.

If I let him, would he eat nothing but chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, and french fries forever? Of course. He's 3. Toddlers are not known for their discriminating palates.

But I will be damned if I raise a child who thinks that he has the right to refuse the food made for him by anyone who went through the effort of doing so, for any reason short of impending anaphalaxis.

This is the same reason that, "Thank you," is a reflexive phrase in our house. Does he truly mean this short speech of gratitude at the age of 3? Of course not. Toddlers are, in their still-developing minds, entitled to everything they have ever wanted- much less needed.

Does that change the fact that he's learned that saying, "Thank you," makes Mommy smile and feel appreciated (and consequently, makes her a tad more likely to give him a bit more potato with his curry, and a bit less carrot)? Of course.

But in a world where both food flexibility and good manners seem to be sacrificed constantly on the altar of, "But let them choose," this is not a choice that my toddler gets to make.

Maternal Instincts?

When I was 15, I read a book off of my stepmother's shelf called, "Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom."

More than 10 years later, I found it at the library today.

Reading it again, it's strange and interesting- not to mention validating- to realize how many of my instincts regarding this pregnancy have been spot-on.

I feared the fact that I have no sisters, no mother nearby, no grandmothers- no women around me who have been through this and can support and reassure me.

-Studies show that women who feel supported during their pregnancy have significantly lower incidences of prenatal problems and easier deliveries with fewer interventions.

(Subsequently, I've discovered that my fears are relatively unfounded, however- many of my close female friends are thrilled to stand in as my sisters and help and support me through this)

I feared that my child would know that early on I had not been ambivalent, but actively wanted to abort.

-Studies show that children of ambivalent mothers have higher incidences of anxiety, childhood (and adult) illness, and depression.

(Subsequently, I've been talking to belly, reassuring my child that yes, I was scared at first- and I still am!!- but that we both do want them, and love them deeply already.)

I kept feeling a need to slow down, even to the point of what felt like 'stopping' for me. Even once I got some energy back, I'd go an entire day sitting and reading a book or three, stopping only to do basic things like fix a brief meal and go to the bathroom.

-Studies show that increased stress and anxiety in the mother is heavily linked to prenatal problems, difficult deliveries, and lowered immune systems in their children.

Apparently, I have good instincts?

I love my orthopedist, I hate my orthopedist

Have you noticed the level of ambivalence I'm feeling these days about, well, everything? Cuz I sure am. I used to be the most decisive (albeit usually objective!) person on earth.

(You'll see me say this a lot!)- Then I got pregnant.

Anyway.

I still have a titanium pin in my shoulder. Long story short, I broke my left collarbone back in January. It wasn't healing well, so they put a pin in it. It was when I was going in to get it removed that we found out I'm preggers. Yeah- timing fail.

So now I have a swelling uterus and a titanium pin in my shoulder.

This isn't, in fact, the best combination ever.

Fast forward to yesterday: my orthopedist calls me. He's been talking to radiologists and anesthesiologists, and he doesn't feel like he can guarantee me a safe surgery.

Um, dude? You couldn't guarantee me a safe surgery before pregnancy, that's why I signed that little waiver saying that I know that I won't sue you unless you fuck up for incompetence as opposed to normal risks of opening up my body and messing with my bones and muscles.

Fast forward to today. A (very carefully shielded!) x-ray later, he spend 20 minutes convincing me that it's safe to wait until after delivery to remove the pin.... which is, by the way, a complete 180 from what he said before we found out about the pregnancy.

Look, dude. I get that you're not an OB and you're terrified of hurting my child and I appreciate it. That you worry about my (and my child's) global health is AWESOME.

But my OB isn't worried, so I wish you'd stop freaking out. I've researched the chances, and with modern anesthesia and my own healthy system and complete lack of personal or family history of complications, it should be fine.

So we compromised. I have another appointment midway through the second trimester to check on it again, and if the pin looks like it's causing trouble, 2nd trimester is the bets time for surgery. if it looks fine, we'll know we can wait.

Frankly, I'm just not enthused about a surgery that severely limits my ability to use my left shoulder while taking care of a newborn. Because newborns don't ever need to be picked up and supported two-handed, or held with both arms, and I'm sure that I'll never, I dunno, nurse with the right breast and use my left arm for support....

I hate pregnancy books

Can I just say how deeply I hate most pregnancy books?

Apparently, every woman who's ever been pregnant is automatically glowy-happy-thrilled by their pregnancy and no woman is every ambivalent, scared, or just plain not ready for this.

The insipid advice: "you may be feeling some emotional changes,but not to worry- that's normal," doesn't even begin to cover the mood swings, depression, elation, and mind-numbing terror of being pregnant, much less being pregnant without having planned it yet!

Want to know what those "emotional changes" are really like, for an ambivalent woman still half-hoping in the back of her head for a spontaneous miscarriage?

Try waking up in the morning nauseated and gassy, and feeling like shifting a single muscle is the hardest thing you've ever done. Wonder what's wrong and if you're hung over, then remember that alcohol is forbidden to you by the Gods of PC Pregnancy, and feel your stomach drop sickeningly at the terrifying reminder that there's a parasitic tadpole latching onto your organs and sucking the nutrition out of you just like it will suck away your time, energy, and finances for the next 20 years.

Then have your partner try to snuggle you closer, maybe initiate some hanky-panky, and try not to shove them away in utter revulsion for any physical contact right now... and then spend the next hour smoothing away the emotional damage your abrupt rejection has left in your relationship- while still struggling with nausea, gas, fatigue, and the overwhelming desire to slit your partner's throat so that they will just leave you alone.

Fuck you, "What to Expect When You're Expecting," there is nothing between your covers that prepares a woman for that.

Nothing.

"Emotional changes," my ass.