Apparently Kim Kardashian (or one of them...honestly I don't care enough to keep track of who said what) said that she asked her mom for birth control because she intended to have sex with her boyfriend, and she did just that at age 14. I know, I know. Your first thought is 'How could her mom support that!!!!' or "Stupid, nasty Kardashians!" or 'Hollywood!! BLECH!!!!' or my personal favorite "Free love!!!!" Wait...wrong era....
Let's get something straight - I, in no way, want to be in a position where my 14 year old needs birth control. I've got three girls up in here and I don't want to deal with this crap unless it's absolutely necessary. But more than that I don't want to be a grandmother before my time.
So when is it absolutely necessary?
When your daughter asks for it.
Make no mistake - I'd love to have three blissful virgins until the day when my husband hands them over to their betrothed, in a ceremony we like to call a wedding. I also know it's 2012, and I certainly didn't walk down that aisle an 'unknown' woman (sorry Mom and Dad - true fact). What I want is for them to have enough respect for themselves and enough faith in the person that they chose to make adult decisions. Fact is, kids make adult decisions before they're legally adults or biologically adults anyway. So why is this any different?
According to Dr. Phil, a man I hold near and dear to my psychiatric heart, says the human brain doesn't reach maturity until 25. And the last part to reach maturity is the very part that dictates the common sense part of the brain. The part that says 'Hey, dumbass - you can't drive after ten shots!' or 'You might should wrap a condom around that lessen you want a little part to deal with'.
Twenty-five.
I'm currently 39 and I know that every move I make, every smile I fake, my mom is watching me. I also know that at 39 I'm WAY wiser than 25. I can only imagine what my brain size will be at 65. It'll be positively creepy. Downright Phineas and Ferb with a brain ray. Smarter? No. Wiser? Yes.
Here's the thing, folks - wise only comes with EXPERIENCE. Not with AGE. If you're dumb as a rock and you spend your life with rocks, at 103 you'll still be as dumb as a rock. Sad, but true facts.
I have learned enough in my time to let my girls make their own decisions, to guide them as I see fit, and to support them indefinitely. Even if they're making the wrong choice, my job is to advise and step back. As painful as it is - my job is to support, to advice, to listen, and to protect.
PROTECT.
Some may see this word as endless hovering so they keep their children from having sex before their wedding night. I see it as supporting their decisions, listening to their feelings (because as I'm sure you will all remember - TEENAGE FEELINGS are real, hard, new, intense, and impossible to sort out) and being there when they decide (at ANY age) that they think they're ready for sex, and supplying them with not only the support and knowledge that they need, but the medicinal help that will protect them.
Do not be foolish parents. You were once a teenager. As Spock said in Wrath of Kahn...... REMEMBER.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
Are You Mom Enough?
Unless you live under a rock you have no doubt seen the cover of Time magazine with the 3 year old boy nursing. The picture is obviously staged to invoke controversy and sell multiple copies. While some people have trained their eyes on the picture, I was consumed by the headline. "Are You Mom Enough?" I will go on record stating that I have not read the article but I have a pretty good idea what it says. I've seen the mom on The Today Show and I've heard her story about why she continues to breastfeed her son. And honestly - I don't care. I guess I do have a personal time limit where I start to think 'Yeah...uh...that's getting weird...' but 3 years old isn't it. Not that I ever signed up for it myself too far beyond the first year but I don't care what anybody else does. My problem is with the title.
Are you mom enough to be an extreme breastfeeder? Are you mom enough to be a follower of attachment parenting? Are you mom enough to stand on the cover of Time magazine with half a boob hanging out? Whatever they want you to be mom enough for - I don't like it. And since it's a piece on attachment parenting and breastfeeding I'm not exactly thrilled with the cut to those that don't breastfeed or actually put their baby in a crib every once in a while.
Here's where I stand on parenting - FOR ME - I have three girls and I breastfed each of them for a little over a year each. The middle one actually breastfed longer because I turned up pregnant before her first birthday and I lacked the patience or energy to 'unboob' her. I suppose you could call me 'attachment parenting lite'. I fed on demand. I watched the baby, not the clock. I put my newborns in a cradle right by the side of my bed so I could either feed or soothe throughout the night. I used a sling, but I also used a stroller. I made dinner with a baby on my hip, but I also had no problem in putting my 9 month old in her highchair and letting her chase Cheerios around her tray for a while. I had one baby who willingly took a bottle of heated breast milk, one who vehemently denied the arms of anyone who wasn't me (and thus a bottle or a pacifier for that matter), and one who actually accepted bottles of formula when I couldn't produce a bottle of breast milk for her when I decided I wanted to take a quilting class. All three of my babies took naps in my lap because their infancy coincided with a new release of a Harry Potter book -and letting them nap on my chest allowed me to read longer.
To be honest - attachment parenting allowed me to be my lazy self. I never got up at 3 a.m. to heat up a bottle, I never stumbled across the house to my baby's room to feed them in the middle of the night, and I never sat around listening to my 2 month old cry because I was trying to 'train' them. Because I read every book Dr. Sears put out I know what his methods are. I also know that it's not one size fits all. And because babies are not one size fits all his methods made sense. He told us that what works with one baby doesn't work with another. He gave us the permission to find out who we are as a parent and who our babies are - because as a parent to many children he knows they aren't all the same. He taught me to listen to my child.
When my 2nd daughter was 4 months old she wasn't acting right...didn't look right....wasn't right. There was no fever. There was no decline in breastfeeding. She just 'wasn't right'. I took her to the doctor and my only complaint was 'she isn't right'. It turned out she had a double ear infection. Most babies stop feeding when they have ear infections because the sucking motion causes pressure and pain in their ears. My baby breastfed MORE because it was a source of comfort. I used what Dr. Sears taught me - watch the baby, trust your instincts.
Where there is one side of extreme parenting, there is always another. The 'other side' is often referred to as Ferberizing. In my parenting youth I read the Ferber method. I even attempted the Ferber method, and to this day I am thankful that I didn't continue down that road. My oldest child, from birth, has been a challenge. My thinking is if something is a challenge from birth it's not a nurture issue, but a nature issue. This is after 11 years of enduring this child and 2 years of therapy to handle her Asperger'y tendencies. What it taught me is ... Sears is right. Listen to the baby. Listen to the child. Listen. At 1 month...at 2 months...at 2 years... at 12 years...at 22 years...LISTEN.
Your bedtime problems are not going to be resolved by some hideous plan to force your child into compliance. I know this was a famous tactic during Victorian times but those people were brought up to be hard, cold humans. And as much as I really want to meet and fall in love with a vampire...that's not the hard and cold I'm talking about. I'm talking about letting a baby...and infant...scream until they vomit. Scream until they realize they're all alone and they have to self-sooth to sleep. Is that why you had a baby? Is that why you had kids? To emotionally beat them into submission so they comply with your rules?
Alright so the beer has gotten the best of me and I seem to have missed the point. The thing that irritated me about Time is the title. Are you mom enough. Are you mom enough to what? Are you mom enough to raise a child, because at the end that is what it's all about. As happy as I am to embrace aspect of attachment parenting, I am NOT mom enough to breastfeed a 3 year old. Why? Because that has never been an issue for me. Maybe I am mom enough for it. But why pit moms against moms? Isn't parenting hard enough? Aren't we all exhausted, no matter how we've raised our babies? Aren't we all tired whether we rolled over and shoved a boob in our baby's mouth or nuked a bottle of formula at 2 a.m.? We're all under the same microscope. Did you do enough? Did you mother properly? Are you mom enough?
I am. I'm mom enough. I'm mom enough to bandage a knee scrape. I'm mom enough to get homework done. I'm mom enough to make an attempt at healthy eating. I'm mom enough to manage multiple after-school activities. I'm mom enough to pull off awesome birthday parties. I'm mom enough to welcome a scared child into my bed in the middle of the night. I'm mom enough to make sure my kids know I love them beyond all reason. I'm mom enough to have three little girls call me "mommy". I'm mom enough to have a personal life that doesn't include my children. I am mom enough.
I AM MOM ENOUGH
Are you mom enough to be an extreme breastfeeder? Are you mom enough to be a follower of attachment parenting? Are you mom enough to stand on the cover of Time magazine with half a boob hanging out? Whatever they want you to be mom enough for - I don't like it. And since it's a piece on attachment parenting and breastfeeding I'm not exactly thrilled with the cut to those that don't breastfeed or actually put their baby in a crib every once in a while.
Here's where I stand on parenting - FOR ME - I have three girls and I breastfed each of them for a little over a year each. The middle one actually breastfed longer because I turned up pregnant before her first birthday and I lacked the patience or energy to 'unboob' her. I suppose you could call me 'attachment parenting lite'. I fed on demand. I watched the baby, not the clock. I put my newborns in a cradle right by the side of my bed so I could either feed or soothe throughout the night. I used a sling, but I also used a stroller. I made dinner with a baby on my hip, but I also had no problem in putting my 9 month old in her highchair and letting her chase Cheerios around her tray for a while. I had one baby who willingly took a bottle of heated breast milk, one who vehemently denied the arms of anyone who wasn't me (and thus a bottle or a pacifier for that matter), and one who actually accepted bottles of formula when I couldn't produce a bottle of breast milk for her when I decided I wanted to take a quilting class. All three of my babies took naps in my lap because their infancy coincided with a new release of a Harry Potter book -and letting them nap on my chest allowed me to read longer.
To be honest - attachment parenting allowed me to be my lazy self. I never got up at 3 a.m. to heat up a bottle, I never stumbled across the house to my baby's room to feed them in the middle of the night, and I never sat around listening to my 2 month old cry because I was trying to 'train' them. Because I read every book Dr. Sears put out I know what his methods are. I also know that it's not one size fits all. And because babies are not one size fits all his methods made sense. He told us that what works with one baby doesn't work with another. He gave us the permission to find out who we are as a parent and who our babies are - because as a parent to many children he knows they aren't all the same. He taught me to listen to my child.
When my 2nd daughter was 4 months old she wasn't acting right...didn't look right....wasn't right. There was no fever. There was no decline in breastfeeding. She just 'wasn't right'. I took her to the doctor and my only complaint was 'she isn't right'. It turned out she had a double ear infection. Most babies stop feeding when they have ear infections because the sucking motion causes pressure and pain in their ears. My baby breastfed MORE because it was a source of comfort. I used what Dr. Sears taught me - watch the baby, trust your instincts.
Where there is one side of extreme parenting, there is always another. The 'other side' is often referred to as Ferberizing. In my parenting youth I read the Ferber method. I even attempted the Ferber method, and to this day I am thankful that I didn't continue down that road. My oldest child, from birth, has been a challenge. My thinking is if something is a challenge from birth it's not a nurture issue, but a nature issue. This is after 11 years of enduring this child and 2 years of therapy to handle her Asperger'y tendencies. What it taught me is ... Sears is right. Listen to the baby. Listen to the child. Listen. At 1 month...at 2 months...at 2 years... at 12 years...at 22 years...LISTEN.
Your bedtime problems are not going to be resolved by some hideous plan to force your child into compliance. I know this was a famous tactic during Victorian times but those people were brought up to be hard, cold humans. And as much as I really want to meet and fall in love with a vampire...that's not the hard and cold I'm talking about. I'm talking about letting a baby...and infant...scream until they vomit. Scream until they realize they're all alone and they have to self-sooth to sleep. Is that why you had a baby? Is that why you had kids? To emotionally beat them into submission so they comply with your rules?
Alright so the beer has gotten the best of me and I seem to have missed the point. The thing that irritated me about Time is the title. Are you mom enough. Are you mom enough to what? Are you mom enough to raise a child, because at the end that is what it's all about. As happy as I am to embrace aspect of attachment parenting, I am NOT mom enough to breastfeed a 3 year old. Why? Because that has never been an issue for me. Maybe I am mom enough for it. But why pit moms against moms? Isn't parenting hard enough? Aren't we all exhausted, no matter how we've raised our babies? Aren't we all tired whether we rolled over and shoved a boob in our baby's mouth or nuked a bottle of formula at 2 a.m.? We're all under the same microscope. Did you do enough? Did you mother properly? Are you mom enough?
I am. I'm mom enough. I'm mom enough to bandage a knee scrape. I'm mom enough to get homework done. I'm mom enough to make an attempt at healthy eating. I'm mom enough to manage multiple after-school activities. I'm mom enough to pull off awesome birthday parties. I'm mom enough to welcome a scared child into my bed in the middle of the night. I'm mom enough to make sure my kids know I love them beyond all reason. I'm mom enough to have three little girls call me "mommy". I'm mom enough to have a personal life that doesn't include my children. I am mom enough.
I AM MOM ENOUGH
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Walks on an imaginary beach
Anything that forces me to get off my ass and take an actual walk has to be pretty darn significant. So let me tell you why I was suddenly standing in front of my husband this afternoon telling him it was time we walked the 'hood. A few nights ago I had a dream that we lived at the beach. Not in a big ol beach house or something as unattainable as that. Just lived in a city that was at the beach. I honestly don't even know what city it was. Wherever it was I was happy. As quickly as we decide to drive all of 5 minutes to Carowinds for the day - that's how quickly we could decide to spend the afternoon on the beach.
Now before my mother gets a hold of this and starts droning on about how she "never could get you to go to the beach when we lived there" and "how many times did I want to go to the beach and you said noooooooo" - I have to admit that all of that is true. I can't remember why I didn't want to go. I probably had something terribly important to do, like watch Clash of the Titans or The Pirate Movie on HBO for the 3 millionth time. Maybe I didn't want to go because my mother did, and what's more fun than pissing off your mom? For a current answer to that question you can interview my 11 year old daughter, but I'm pretty sure it's the same now as it was then. (Answer: shrug shoulders and say "I dunno")
So now that we've reconciled with my multi-generational mother/daughter issues let's get back to my happy place. The beach. We try to take a family vacation to Myrtle Beach every summer. Every summer there is some moment when the kids are playing in the surf, I'm sitting in my beach chair, and the world goes away. Because I spent more than a few afternoons with my friends on the sandy shores of Virginia Beach as a teenager, the moments when I'm relaxing I'm not thinking 'Wow! We're at the beach!'. I'm thinking 'Wow! I'm back home!'
When I woke up after my beach dream it took a while to convince myself that I wasn't really in a beach city. My first thoughts were 'we should really head over to the beach this weekend'. Finally I realized that in order to do that we'd have to drive 5 hours and sell our plasma so we could afford a hotel for two nights. I would have to pack for three kids (and two dogs - one of which has probably seen her last family vacation because as difficult as it is to live with a 15.5 year old dog, traveling with her is nothing short of a nightmare. Kinda kills the whole relax'y vacation'y thing). I didn't really want a vacation - I wanted to go to the beach for the day. Like I used to when I was 17. (Excuse me - there's my mother again telling me that I'm turning 40 soon so I'm just having a mid-life crisis) The thing is - I'm not having a mid-life crisis. I just finally figured out that I know where I'm happy and it's the damn beach.
Why "the damn beach"? Because my chances of living at the beach ever again are remote at best. Therefore it's the damn beach. I spit on you. Ptooey. Stupid beach that I can't live at.
The point was driven home just that much harder after watching Modern Family from last week. Clare took the hottie sports car, drove up the coast, and played in the sand to get away from it all for the day. Well that just pissed me off even more because I can't even drive up a coast or get to a beach in an hour. Charlotte. Three hours west to the mountains. Five hours east to the beach. No snow in the winter. Hot and humid in the summer. The best thing I can say is we're fairly protected from random tornado outbreaks but even that has been challenged in seasons past.
The acceptance of this has been a bit oppressive lately. This afternoon while I was staring at my half-written novel, the words refusing to leave my brain, I decided even if I couldn't walk on the beach, I could walk. So we did. We walked from one end of our neighborhood to the other (don't be so impressed - we live at the front of the neighborhood so really we walked to the end and then back). During the quiet that I was supposed to be focusing on the reason why I couldn't sort out my novel problems all I could think was that I'd rather be walking on the beach. I'd rather be sitting on the beach with a pad and pencil (because laptops on the beach are just a bad idea). And I don't for a second pretend that if I just lived on the beach my ass would so be Suzanne Collins - because I don't. But there is a certain amount of brain work I'm pretty sure I could do sitting in the sand, novel aside. Like I said - it's my happy place.
After the walk around the neighborhood failed to give me what I needed it was time to run the Thursday shuttle, providing service from school to ballet & gymnastics to dinner and finally home. I had to fall back on my second happy place that, thankfully, I can do just about anywhere - loud singing in the car. The downfall is I only get about 20 minutes of uninterrupted caterwauling before three little people get in and start complaining about song choices or fighting over fishy crackers. In the end, the music sorted out my problems with the novel. My problems with where I will never live are not so easy.
There are many good points to Charlotte. Did I mention the low threat of tornadoes? The girls go to an excellent school. My 11 year old has a team of excellent doctors who help her with her personality quirks. There's an awesome house in an awesome neighborhood that I would love to live in. They have a neighborhood pool, which I think would give me some of the beach feeling I'm missing. But right now I'm stuck. I guess you could call it a rut. I can't get the words of my novel onto the computer screen and I can't stick my toes in the sand to soothe my soul. So I guess I'll keep walking the 'hood and 'singing' in my minivan.
Now before my mother gets a hold of this and starts droning on about how she "never could get you to go to the beach when we lived there" and "how many times did I want to go to the beach and you said noooooooo" - I have to admit that all of that is true. I can't remember why I didn't want to go. I probably had something terribly important to do, like watch Clash of the Titans or The Pirate Movie on HBO for the 3 millionth time. Maybe I didn't want to go because my mother did, and what's more fun than pissing off your mom? For a current answer to that question you can interview my 11 year old daughter, but I'm pretty sure it's the same now as it was then. (Answer: shrug shoulders and say "I dunno")
So now that we've reconciled with my multi-generational mother/daughter issues let's get back to my happy place. The beach. We try to take a family vacation to Myrtle Beach every summer. Every summer there is some moment when the kids are playing in the surf, I'm sitting in my beach chair, and the world goes away. Because I spent more than a few afternoons with my friends on the sandy shores of Virginia Beach as a teenager, the moments when I'm relaxing I'm not thinking 'Wow! We're at the beach!'. I'm thinking 'Wow! I'm back home!'
When I woke up after my beach dream it took a while to convince myself that I wasn't really in a beach city. My first thoughts were 'we should really head over to the beach this weekend'. Finally I realized that in order to do that we'd have to drive 5 hours and sell our plasma so we could afford a hotel for two nights. I would have to pack for three kids (and two dogs - one of which has probably seen her last family vacation because as difficult as it is to live with a 15.5 year old dog, traveling with her is nothing short of a nightmare. Kinda kills the whole relax'y vacation'y thing). I didn't really want a vacation - I wanted to go to the beach for the day. Like I used to when I was 17. (Excuse me - there's my mother again telling me that I'm turning 40 soon so I'm just having a mid-life crisis) The thing is - I'm not having a mid-life crisis. I just finally figured out that I know where I'm happy and it's the damn beach.
Why "the damn beach"? Because my chances of living at the beach ever again are remote at best. Therefore it's the damn beach. I spit on you. Ptooey. Stupid beach that I can't live at.
The point was driven home just that much harder after watching Modern Family from last week. Clare took the hottie sports car, drove up the coast, and played in the sand to get away from it all for the day. Well that just pissed me off even more because I can't even drive up a coast or get to a beach in an hour. Charlotte. Three hours west to the mountains. Five hours east to the beach. No snow in the winter. Hot and humid in the summer. The best thing I can say is we're fairly protected from random tornado outbreaks but even that has been challenged in seasons past.
The acceptance of this has been a bit oppressive lately. This afternoon while I was staring at my half-written novel, the words refusing to leave my brain, I decided even if I couldn't walk on the beach, I could walk. So we did. We walked from one end of our neighborhood to the other (don't be so impressed - we live at the front of the neighborhood so really we walked to the end and then back). During the quiet that I was supposed to be focusing on the reason why I couldn't sort out my novel problems all I could think was that I'd rather be walking on the beach. I'd rather be sitting on the beach with a pad and pencil (because laptops on the beach are just a bad idea). And I don't for a second pretend that if I just lived on the beach my ass would so be Suzanne Collins - because I don't. But there is a certain amount of brain work I'm pretty sure I could do sitting in the sand, novel aside. Like I said - it's my happy place.
After the walk around the neighborhood failed to give me what I needed it was time to run the Thursday shuttle, providing service from school to ballet & gymnastics to dinner and finally home. I had to fall back on my second happy place that, thankfully, I can do just about anywhere - loud singing in the car. The downfall is I only get about 20 minutes of uninterrupted caterwauling before three little people get in and start complaining about song choices or fighting over fishy crackers. In the end, the music sorted out my problems with the novel. My problems with where I will never live are not so easy.
There are many good points to Charlotte. Did I mention the low threat of tornadoes? The girls go to an excellent school. My 11 year old has a team of excellent doctors who help her with her personality quirks. There's an awesome house in an awesome neighborhood that I would love to live in. They have a neighborhood pool, which I think would give me some of the beach feeling I'm missing. But right now I'm stuck. I guess you could call it a rut. I can't get the words of my novel onto the computer screen and I can't stick my toes in the sand to soothe my soul. So I guess I'll keep walking the 'hood and 'singing' in my minivan.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Amendment One in NC
Here's the thing - the Bible can be quoted until the fundamentalists are blue in face but it still has absolutely NOTHING to do with the law or the constitution. It just doesn't. Do I care what "God says"? As a matter of fact I do, and I try to live my life as best I can. However, I do not and will not impose my beliefs on anybody else because, not only do I not have the right to do so, but it flies in the face on what this country was founded upon: people escaping the rigidity of religion. Creating legislation with faith-based information is a direct violation of the US Constitution - a document that the same people who are pushing Amendment One love to bring up whenever they feel their rights are being threatened. Can someone tell me why your beliefs supersede mine just because you derived them from the parts of the Bible you choose to follow? Am I allowed to stone you to death the next time I see you mowing the lawn on Sunday or not attending church? How about that poly-cotton blend shirt you've got on?
And while we're still on the subject - what will gay marriage do to you? How will that affect your life? The only thing I can foresee is a huge boost in the economy as gay men everywhere throw the most fabulous weddings you've ever seen. I mean, honestly. What threat does it impose? What are you afraid of? I've seen a lot of bullshit analogies on how you can fit a male and female plug together but you can't put a female plug to a female plug, and likewise with male plugs. Last time I checked my 8-outlet power strip didn't accuse my laptop of cheating when it was plugged into another outlet either. Comparing male and female genitalia to electronics is about the stupidest thing I've ever heard - and I have three kids who routinely make up excuses about who left the milk out or who spread Squinkies all over an entire room.
Another piece of this amendment that the faith-based fundamentalists like to completely overlook is the part where it isn't just about gay marriage - it's about civil unions of ANY kind. That means the kid who's parents aren't married will lose the health insurance that his father was providing simply because of his parent's relationship. Just as anyone should be allowed to get married - they should also be given the choice to NOT get married. I know 'choice' isn't a popular word amongst the right wingers. In their world you have the choice to live exactly as they tell you, while they tout smaller government. Hypocritical much? Sounds more like a dictatorship than the America our forefathers had in mind.
But this is all my opinion - of which I am entitled - at least until they make a law telling me I'm not.
And while we're still on the subject - what will gay marriage do to you? How will that affect your life? The only thing I can foresee is a huge boost in the economy as gay men everywhere throw the most fabulous weddings you've ever seen. I mean, honestly. What threat does it impose? What are you afraid of? I've seen a lot of bullshit analogies on how you can fit a male and female plug together but you can't put a female plug to a female plug, and likewise with male plugs. Last time I checked my 8-outlet power strip didn't accuse my laptop of cheating when it was plugged into another outlet either. Comparing male and female genitalia to electronics is about the stupidest thing I've ever heard - and I have three kids who routinely make up excuses about who left the milk out or who spread Squinkies all over an entire room.
Another piece of this amendment that the faith-based fundamentalists like to completely overlook is the part where it isn't just about gay marriage - it's about civil unions of ANY kind. That means the kid who's parents aren't married will lose the health insurance that his father was providing simply because of his parent's relationship. Just as anyone should be allowed to get married - they should also be given the choice to NOT get married. I know 'choice' isn't a popular word amongst the right wingers. In their world you have the choice to live exactly as they tell you, while they tout smaller government. Hypocritical much? Sounds more like a dictatorship than the America our forefathers had in mind.
But this is all my opinion - of which I am entitled - at least until they make a law telling me I'm not.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)