Unprofessional Parenting

My pregnancy cravings have recently centered themselves on an old favorite. Yes, I love Cap’n Crunch. Right now my sinful affair is with Crunchberries, which I just can’t get enough of.

Here’s the thing about too much Cap’n Crunch - it can be painful. Despite the psychological trauma it causes me to eat what amounts to pure sugar with no nutritional value, it’s also becoming a physically painful experience. Those of you who regularly invite the Cap’N into your home will know where I’m going with this.

More that one bowl of the tooth-rotting deliciousness in a day makes obvious a very painful fact. Excluding the peanut butter version, this cereal seems to be made of razor blades. We have very large bowls and if I go more than 2/3 full with my sinful delight I run the risk of cutting my mouth to shreds.

Seriously, I don’t know what causes this but it is a confirmed fact. My husband has agreed and an informal survey of my friends suggests that the findings are conclusive. The only way to avoid whatever it is that cuts up the roof of your mouth seems to be to let it sit in milk for a minute before you eat it. But then you must sacrifice that crunch that makes it so desirable in the first place.

Sigh. Love hurts.

A recently article on MSNBC posted that about 1/3 of women who receive WIC assistance share a bed with their infants. It continued to suggest that such a practice is unsafe and increases the possibility of SIDS risk for infants. The study suggested that women who bed share are more likely to be teen mothers, African American, or mothers with less education.

Really? I’m actually on the fence about this one. I don’t consider myself an uneducated mother (and I’m not a teen or an African American) but I did share a bed with my son when he was an infant. Having a c-section and trying to nurse at night is a complicated procedure unless the baby is right there so I kept him nearby. I did follow the rules about nixing fluffy comforters and pillows and we all survived to tell the tale.

There is also a large movement to support co-sleeping. As one article argues “Every scientific study of infant sleep confirms that babies benefits from co-sleeping. Not one shred of evidence exists to support the widely held notion that co-sleep is detrimental to the psychological or physical health of infants.”

Obviously the advice is contradictory. For our next son I’m actually planning on getting a c0-sleeper to attach to our bed. We have a new mattress that fits our bed frame a little differently and gaps would give me a bother if I had the baby directly in the bed with us.  I’ll also be a c-section nursing mom which presents some challenges to getting out of bed every couple hours during the first weeks home.

It’s an interesting debate and one that I doubt will be resolved any time soon.

Our newest addition (due in Feb 2009) has been officially determined to be of the male gender. We asked a few times to make sure there weren’t any mistakes about it but from looking at the ultrasound it is pretty obvious. Our difficulty at this point is that we have a really tough time thinking of (agreeing on) boy names.

The first time I was pregnant we had a girl named picked out within a few weeks. When we found out it would be a boy it took us almost until he was born to agree on a name.  After we finally agreed we had to deal with the wrath of angry family members because his initials were going to be JAR. Yes, he’s a jar. I didn’t think it was that big a deal but apparently I was wrong. Eventually they all got over it - or at least shut up about it.

Now here we are again. Six months along and not a name in sight. Naming a person seems to be a stressful project. Maybe I’ll try working backwards - I’ll pick some initials that spell something annoying and then try to get a name to match. CAR, BAR, CUR, FOR, DOR, . . .

Since when is it okay to pester me in the bathroom? I’ve seen several parents make note of the small fists pounding on the door at the most inconvenient times but for me this is becoming a pattern that I fear I will never escape.

Before my son was born I worked in a construction office for my husband’s family. There were three women (myself included) and we had a nice, clean, one person women’s bathroom all to ourselves. We also had a very aggressive receptionist for a few years who thought nothing of pounding on the door to tell me I had a phone call.

I’m very serious about this. I asked her several times to take a message if I wasn’t at my desk but it was her job to get me to that phone so come hell or high water she was going to get me there. I finally blew up at one point when she knocked on the door and said “We’ve got to get you out of there hon, you’ve got a phone call.” The ever so important phone call? It was my mom calling about some random thing that I don’t even remember at this point. Through clenched teeth I explained I didn’t care who’s on the phone - don’t knock on the door! It didn’t work. Until the day she left she kept on a-knocking.

Now my son has picked up the torch. He pounds, he yells, he giggles, and now he turns the knob furiously fighting the lock that comes between us. I can’t wait to potty train him and then pound on the door when he’s trying to relax. Don’t think I’ll forget this when he’s a teenager!

I’ll preface by saying that (so far) I’m pretty lucky to have a son who is a good eater. He’s only two and will likely develop eating preferences later but for the time being he’ll eat just about anything.  From time to time, however, if he’s in a mood he’ll try to get picky.

That’s when I bring out the magic - yes, ketchup. What is it about this magical condiment that makes my son eat everything on his plate? If I put a little sauce in the corner in goes the chicken, then in goes the biscuit, then (to my horror) in go the peas and carrots. That doesn’t even look good.

Luckily, we don’t keep ranch dressing in our house so I don’t have to worry too much about how this will evolve over time. My husband thinks it’s gross and complains about having to watch it while he coats everything on his plate with the obligatory blanket of A1 sauce.

Here’s an interesting news tidbit. Coming from the Times UK - a government report on reusable diapers found that considering the laundering requirements of reusable diapers (”nappies” in UK speak) they actually create a larger carbon footprint than their disposable counterparts.

Yes, unless the nappies are line dried only and reused through several children, the process of laundering them leads to a dramatic increase of their impact on the environment.  In a fascinating addition to the findings, the government apparently decided to “not publicize” the results of the study in the hopes to avoid drawing negative attention to the reusable industry.

Reusable diapers are most certainly a lifestyle choice (one that requires way more dedication than I would ever even try to have) and I have a hard time believing that anyone devoted enough to use them would be deterred by this one study. The article also didn’t define the exact parameters of the study so who knows the whole story but I have to wonder if using those diapers to dry my car has the same environmental impact?

I was reading up on pregnancy info this morning and I came across a “Mom’s share what they wish they had known about pregnancy and labor” article. Some of it was informative and some was down right hilarious.  My favorite was a woman who said she wished she had known to have her hospital bags packed early. She said she went into early labor and her husband had to go home and pack the bag for her. It ended with this gem “He brought me thong underwear!” The entire article can be found here and is good for some laughs.

Inspired by this here’s a quick list of my own (I’ll try to keep it short but I might need a part II for this one).

• I wish I had known that no matter how uniformed people are they will offer a pregnant woman terrible (sometimes unhealthy) advice.  I got some real whoppers that well meaning advice givers who would swear they were right.
• That there is a certain generation of women who were convinced through marketing that formula feeding is better than breastfeeding. I researched this later after being astounded at how frequently a certain person hassled me that I shouldn’t breastfeed because there’s no way to tell that the baby is getting enough to eat and clearly my son was starving all the time.
• To bring a baby blanket to put over the car seat when taking my son from the hospital to the car. It was warm but some woman actually walked up and grabbed his hand (blocking my wheelchair to prevent our escape) on the way out. Note to well meaning baby lovers: Don’t touch a 2 day old baby without permission! Especially if you’re a stranger with who-knows-what germs all over you!
• To politely ask well meaning visitors at my house to put back any furniture they move to “make themselves more comfortable.” I had a c-section and found myself trying to push around huge ottoman’s, really heavy dining room chairs, and coffee tables that guests had moved around to sit in our put their feet on. Seriously, how rude!

Here’s my gem of the day:

• I wish I had known to put the instruction booklet for the car seat in my hospital bag!! It was across the parking lot in the car when my husband got frustrated that we didn’t know how to adjust the thing small enough to fit a newborn (as we were trying to leave the hospital). We started to get in some huge argument because neither of us knew and we were both stressed out and really tired. Luckily the nurse walked in and had the grace to help before we got out of hand.

Any other mommies with advice to share?

After the craziness of last week I thought I was all caught up and ready to take on the world. This morning I woke up sick. **sigh** Actually, I knew last night I was getting sick - I had that sore throat that means you’re going to get sick and there’s nothing you can do about it. I gargled with hot salt water as my mom always demands I do but woke up this morning with that painful, dry throat, red eyes, and that yucky-head feeling.

All this despite the fact that I have to argue with a co-worker on a regular basis about whether or not pregnant women get sick. His theory is that pregnant women don’t get sick because they are immune to everything.  I can attest from experience that that particular theory is BS and studies have actually shown the opposite. Pregnant women tend to get sick more often than others because our immune systems are working twice as hard along with the rest of the body.

Ah well. I’m off to get some eye drops and gargle more salt water. Unfortunately my husband’s remedy of Jack Daniels can’t apply to this cold so I must suffer. At least my son will go to bed at 8 so I can follow closely behind.

I had to laugh when I watched a short clip this weekend on celebrity parenting advice. It had a few brief interview questions of various Hollywood types (from who knows when) about how they manage to juggle parenting and their oh-so-busy careers. I always find these questions stupid because they are asked of people who A) Can usually bring their kids to work with them wherever they go and B) Can pay an army of highly skilled professionals to be with their kids when they happen to not be around.

After the montage of beautiful, Botoxed, and surgically altered mommies presented their “real world” advice, the interview turned to an actress/former Ms. Universe who has two children of her own. Watching the male interviewer comment for the next four minutes about her beauty was mildly nauseating but her responses were just about as stupid as he was.

Her parenting tips were as follows:
Time management: Try to get things done while your kids are in school - this is very helpful for her when she schedules her day and it gives her time to get to the gym everyday.

Spending time with kids: Do active things with your kids. She likes to take her kids to the park because it promotes exercise and good health.

Eating healthy (this was my favorite): She says, “buy organic, it’s better for you and it tastes the same.” This was the sum of her advice on how to be sure your kids eat healthy - yes folks - it is that easy!

She also wanted us mommies to know that it’s very important to wash our makeup off at the end of everyday and to use plenty of moisturizer.

So there you go - brilliant and oh-so-helpful parenting advice from former Ms. Universe. I was going to post a link to the video but quite frankly it was a waste of six minutes of my life so I’d feel guilty inflicting it on everyone else.  You’ll just have to trust me on this (and thank me).

Well, I’ve been pondering this post for a while and I’m just now getting around to it because it seems so wrong to write in the first place.  This makes me feel like a really terrible and ungrateful parent but I’m hoping that this confession might reach out to one or two other mothers out there who feel the same way and find themselves living with this tremendous guilt.

Let me preface by saying that (so far) I have a really happy kid. He is relatively easy to take care of - he eats almost anything I put in front of him, he doesn’t get in to too much stuff that he isn’t supposed to, and he’s almost always smiling. So here’s the confession - sometimes his happiness makes me crazy. Sometimes it’s even (**cringe**) annoying.

There - it’s out. Yes, sometimes his smiling and giggling can be really annoying. He tends to think everything is a joke and “fun time” so even when I’m trying to be serious he’s laughing. When I tell him it’s time to brush his teeth he falls down on the ground, refuses to get up, and laughs his head off when I drag him into the bathroom. When I need to get him dressed in the morning he refuses to cooperate but he laughs the entire time. This isn’t exactly tantrum material but what the heck? All of life can’t be that funny, can it?

Here’s the worst of all: I tell him not to try to climb up the dressers in my most serious mommy voice. I explain that it’s not safe, I don’t want him to get ouchies. He laughs the entire time I’m talking. Laughs. Right in my face.

He’s only two so he’s either just a really happy kid or an evil genius who will eventually drive me mad. I suppose only time will tell.