Each of these links has been waiting in my tabs for a blog post of its own. But let's be realistic -- all those blog posts are never going to get written, and I have to restart my computer sometime. So here's a blurb for each.
FDA - Interstate Raw Milk Ban
This is a ruling of the FDA in which they say that we don't have the right to eat what we want, to buy what we want from someone willing to sell it to us, or to feed our children what we want. We don't have the right to health or to freedom of contract.
Immune Disorder at the Root of Autism
I can get behind this theory, though I still maintain that autism almost certainly has more than one cause. Some cases might be genetic and others environmental, for instance. But definitely our modern immune systems tend toward inflammation, and a lack of healthy gut flora is a contributing factor. On the other hand, curing autism with worms? Ick.
Giving Birth to a "Rapist's Child"
This scholarly article was really enlightening. The main point is that there should be more legal protection for mothers who choose to raise children conceived in rape, in order to ensure the rapist is not given custody of the child. (Few states have any law on this topic at all.) But along the way, it addressed so many other stereotypes: that a woman who conceives in rape will necessarily want an abortion, that if she doesn't want an abortion it means she wasn't really raped, or that most rapists are brought to justice. (An estimated 98% aren't, and of those who are convicted, the average sentence is 11 months.) It's full of citations from scholarly sources, proving the falsehood of many of these stereotypes. And it points out that fewer rape victims might choose abortion if only they could be certain they would be given exclusive custody of their children, rather than having to take a chance on a family court ruling in their favor.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
Why I wear pants
Yes, it's a hot-button issue for Catholic women, and I've never touched it before. The skirts-only crowd and the sometimes-pants crowd go back and forth online all the time, and I usually keep out of it because I don't think clothes are that big of a deal.
But let me just say here upfront: I often wear pants. Probably at least five days a week.
There's some history behind this. When I was about thirteen I decided I loved skirts. I had this huge cream-colored skirt which I called my "confidence skirt" because I always felt so self-assured in it. Probably because I didn't have to worry about where I put my feet, since no one could see them. Or else because it was so vast I felt bigger than I was in real life (which, at the time, was about 90 pounds). I wore pants often enough at home, but if I was going somewhere I usually wore a skirt.
Then at boarding school I wore skirts exclusively -- even at the beach or while playing basketball -- because it was a rule. It was a really big deal for some people to wear only skirts, apparently. It wasn't a big deal for me. That is, until all my clothes were given to Goodwill and I was forced to buy new ones that better fit what a "Woman of the Kingdom" should look like. My mom was furious because, on the one hand, she had liked my clothes and would have liked to keep them (many were handmedowns from her), and on the other, buying all new clothes for me was an expense my family didn't need.
I didn't care for the way I looked in the new clothes, particularly. I liked big billowy skirts; I was put in tailored shortish skirts. Skirts that required dress shoes instead of prairie boots. I freely admit that I had no sense of style as a preteen. But it was my style and I liked wearing clothes I had picked myself.
When I left boarding school, I kept wearing skirts exclusively for a full year. After all, I was trying to get back there, and there was no way I was slacking off on the rules just because I wasn't there at the moment. I found pants uncomfortable anyway. They weren't always practical, but I stuck with them -- despite embarrassing moments like trying to fly my grandpa's airplane with the stick between my legs, so that my skirt was hiked right up my thighs; or the time I was bushwhacking through the greenbelt near our house and sunk into some mud almost up to the waist, meaning I had to drag myself home with a soggy, muddy skirt plastered to my legs.
But eventually -- I think for the sake of horseback riding -- I put on a pair of pants, my dad's old camo pants. I stuck with those till I went to college; they were my only pair and I mostly wore them to mow the lawn. When I went to college, I bought a pair of jeans and a pair of cargo pants, thinking that maybe I would wear them a bit more so as not to be quite so weird.
Only something happened to change that. A few days into being at college, I had made a friend. She was nice and very friendly, and had mentioned in passing that she only attended the Latin Mass. (I learned later she was actually a sedevacantist.) She seemed to single me out to be her friend, and I was quite flattered. But after knowing her a few days, she let slip the reason: "It's nice to know someone else who doesn't wear pants."
I had been wearing skirts because I liked them. I owned pants. But I felt so tied in by her opinion. Now that I was identified as an "only skirts" girl, I couldn't ever wear pants. If I did, what if my friend didn't like me anymore? In fact, I didn't wear them for a whole semester. During finals week, I finally got up the guts to wear pants once. No one even recognized me at first. When they did, I got comment after comment on them.
That whole debacle was just frustrating to me. Was I really so defined by what I wore? I am not a person who cares about clothes. Once I put them on, I would forget about them. But apparently everyone else was keeping careful track.
Nowadays I wear pants more often than not. They are eminently practical, I don't mind getting them dirty, they are easy to sit on the floor in. I am not now, and have never been, all that ladylike. I like to be feminine, but not upper-class. I like to be able to move, dig in the garden, lie on the floor and do airplanes with the baby on my knees. The most important thing lately is that shorts and skirts leave one very vulnerable to mosquitoes. Skirt-wearers like to pride themselves on being able to do any activity in a skirt that you can do in pants ("except things that are unladylike anyway"), but they haven't been able to tell me any other way to keep bugs off without getting heatstroke.
I don't think pants are immodest. Like any garment, it depends on the pants! I guarantee you, my pants and skirts are both quite frumpy enough to satisfy anyone. The advantage of pants is that they remain equally modest no matter what position you're in. I heard of a girl who managed not to get raped because her attacker couldn't wrench off her skinny jeans. Next best thing to a chastity belt! Can't say that of a skirt.
Now I'm not anti-skirt. I have several skirts that I love. Most of them are enormous -- I like to be able to MOVE. You won't see me in a pencil skirt, but I like hippie skirts and prairie skirts and circle skirts. But I refuse to identify myself by my clothes. I am to the point that I don't care how people will judge me: if they see me in pants, they might call me immodest; if they see me in a skirt, they might think I'm super-traditionalist; but I am darn well going to wear what is most comfortable and practical for me to wear.
And I refuse to let anyone else tell me what I should be wearing. I don't exist to be looked at. I like to look nice for my husband, which is why I grew my hair out even though I prefer it short, but no one besides my husband has any reason to stare at my lower half anyway. I don't care if they find me too unfeminine; let them get to know me and they'll find I'm feminine enough. (In a medieval-peasant sort of way.) And I admit I wear pants more than I otherwise would just because I am aware of the pressure to wear skirts. I don't like to be pushed around, and sometimes my pushing-back involves pants.
I wrote this post while wearing a skirt. Just so you know.
If you are female, do you wear skirts, pants, or either? If you are male, why the heck did you plow through a whole post about women's clothing?
But let me just say here upfront: I often wear pants. Probably at least five days a week.
There's some history behind this. When I was about thirteen I decided I loved skirts. I had this huge cream-colored skirt which I called my "confidence skirt" because I always felt so self-assured in it. Probably because I didn't have to worry about where I put my feet, since no one could see them. Or else because it was so vast I felt bigger than I was in real life (which, at the time, was about 90 pounds). I wore pants often enough at home, but if I was going somewhere I usually wore a skirt.
Then at boarding school I wore skirts exclusively -- even at the beach or while playing basketball -- because it was a rule. It was a really big deal for some people to wear only skirts, apparently. It wasn't a big deal for me. That is, until all my clothes were given to Goodwill and I was forced to buy new ones that better fit what a "Woman of the Kingdom" should look like. My mom was furious because, on the one hand, she had liked my clothes and would have liked to keep them (many were handmedowns from her), and on the other, buying all new clothes for me was an expense my family didn't need.
I didn't care for the way I looked in the new clothes, particularly. I liked big billowy skirts; I was put in tailored shortish skirts. Skirts that required dress shoes instead of prairie boots. I freely admit that I had no sense of style as a preteen. But it was my style and I liked wearing clothes I had picked myself.
When I left boarding school, I kept wearing skirts exclusively for a full year. After all, I was trying to get back there, and there was no way I was slacking off on the rules just because I wasn't there at the moment. I found pants uncomfortable anyway. They weren't always practical, but I stuck with them -- despite embarrassing moments like trying to fly my grandpa's airplane with the stick between my legs, so that my skirt was hiked right up my thighs; or the time I was bushwhacking through the greenbelt near our house and sunk into some mud almost up to the waist, meaning I had to drag myself home with a soggy, muddy skirt plastered to my legs.
But eventually -- I think for the sake of horseback riding -- I put on a pair of pants, my dad's old camo pants. I stuck with those till I went to college; they were my only pair and I mostly wore them to mow the lawn. When I went to college, I bought a pair of jeans and a pair of cargo pants, thinking that maybe I would wear them a bit more so as not to be quite so weird.
Only something happened to change that. A few days into being at college, I had made a friend. She was nice and very friendly, and had mentioned in passing that she only attended the Latin Mass. (I learned later she was actually a sedevacantist.) She seemed to single me out to be her friend, and I was quite flattered. But after knowing her a few days, she let slip the reason: "It's nice to know someone else who doesn't wear pants."
I had been wearing skirts because I liked them. I owned pants. But I felt so tied in by her opinion. Now that I was identified as an "only skirts" girl, I couldn't ever wear pants. If I did, what if my friend didn't like me anymore? In fact, I didn't wear them for a whole semester. During finals week, I finally got up the guts to wear pants once. No one even recognized me at first. When they did, I got comment after comment on them.
That whole debacle was just frustrating to me. Was I really so defined by what I wore? I am not a person who cares about clothes. Once I put them on, I would forget about them. But apparently everyone else was keeping careful track.
Nowadays I wear pants more often than not. They are eminently practical, I don't mind getting them dirty, they are easy to sit on the floor in. I am not now, and have never been, all that ladylike. I like to be feminine, but not upper-class. I like to be able to move, dig in the garden, lie on the floor and do airplanes with the baby on my knees. The most important thing lately is that shorts and skirts leave one very vulnerable to mosquitoes. Skirt-wearers like to pride themselves on being able to do any activity in a skirt that you can do in pants ("except things that are unladylike anyway"), but they haven't been able to tell me any other way to keep bugs off without getting heatstroke.
I don't think pants are immodest. Like any garment, it depends on the pants! I guarantee you, my pants and skirts are both quite frumpy enough to satisfy anyone. The advantage of pants is that they remain equally modest no matter what position you're in. I heard of a girl who managed not to get raped because her attacker couldn't wrench off her skinny jeans. Next best thing to a chastity belt! Can't say that of a skirt.
Now I'm not anti-skirt. I have several skirts that I love. Most of them are enormous -- I like to be able to MOVE. You won't see me in a pencil skirt, but I like hippie skirts and prairie skirts and circle skirts. But I refuse to identify myself by my clothes. I am to the point that I don't care how people will judge me: if they see me in pants, they might call me immodest; if they see me in a skirt, they might think I'm super-traditionalist; but I am darn well going to wear what is most comfortable and practical for me to wear.
And I refuse to let anyone else tell me what I should be wearing. I don't exist to be looked at. I like to look nice for my husband, which is why I grew my hair out even though I prefer it short, but no one besides my husband has any reason to stare at my lower half anyway. I don't care if they find me too unfeminine; let them get to know me and they'll find I'm feminine enough. (In a medieval-peasant sort of way.) And I admit I wear pants more than I otherwise would just because I am aware of the pressure to wear skirts. I don't like to be pushed around, and sometimes my pushing-back involves pants.
I wrote this post while wearing a skirt. Just so you know.
If you are female, do you wear skirts, pants, or either? If you are male, why the heck did you plow through a whole post about women's clothing?
Friday, August 24, 2012
Blogroll
I have been very sloppy and remiss when it comes to my sidebar. I threw some links up there years ago and for the most part have just left them. I couldn't possibly link to everyone I read -- I subscribe to dozens of blogs. But I wanted to have some good stuff up there for people who want to find something new. Every blog on my link list is one I read frequently and which I think my readers might like. The only exception is that my two old blogs are on there -- Enchiridion and Sniffles Predominating. That's in case you want to stalk my past self or whatever.
If you're a regular reader and you write a blog you think my other readers might like, please comment on this post. Also please comment if you ever find a broken link in there!
If you're a regular reader and you write a blog you think my other readers might like, please comment on this post. Also please comment if you ever find a broken link in there!
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Virginia in August
All through the month of July, I griped about the weather. It truly was miserable, but my complaining just raised the question, from those who don't have to put up with Virginia in July, "Then why do you want to live there?!"
Of course part of the reason is practical: work and housing and all. It took us years to get established here, and we are not interested in starting over from scratch somewhere else. But we actually did want to live here. In July, I was scratching my head to think of one good reason why.
Now it's August and it's all coming back to me. Cicadas. Crickets. Mimosa trees. Thunderstorms. Hot sun and cool breeze. Fertile soil and bountiful harvests. Windows open day and night.
You see, I am in love with fresh air. I want the maximum number of "outside days" I can get. Virginia isn't perfect, but it scores pretty high.
The problem is that the placement of the outside days throws me for a loop. They start in April, when I don't expect them. I enjoy them for a bit, but then I start to take them for granted, because soon it will be summer and it will be even nicer, right?
Then June hit and we had to shut up all the windows in the heat of the day, then all day. We'd play outside, but it was always either too hot or too buggy. July was the same only worse and with more thunderstorms. This summer it would be over 100 degrees for a week. The garden turned into a jungle of weeds.
But now it's August and so, so lovely. I don't want to let it slip by like the spring did. I reckon we'll get till late October, and then I'll have to shut all the windows again. When we start homeschooling, I'll make a schedule that respects our climate: school during summer and winter only, with holidays on pleasant days.
A few more things I love about where I live:
The rolling hills. As a Westerner, I don't call them mountains, but that doesn't mean I'm not fond of them. I love the way you can drive along them and get long views of the valley below around every bend. The vineyards and farmland look like another era, with wisps of smoke and mist drifting up out of hollows. It reminds me of Assisi, one of my favorite places in the world.
My neighborhood. It reminds me of the one I grew up in. 1950's factory workers' homes, along a quiet street where no one drives but your own neighbors. Kids ride their bikes up and down and no one complains. Everyone's got a front porch, and sometimes I hear them calling from porch to porch. They're happy to share a bag of cherry tomatoes or help pick up fallen branches in our yard.
Our town. Sure, it's a little rundown and junky; there are way more sleazy hotels and tattoo parlors than you'd think one town could support. But it's open and friendly. It's near some lovely farm country. There's a great parish with lots of young families and a bus that takes me around for 50 cents.
We've been making friends, getting involved, really putting down roots here. I'm not saying we'll never leave, but for now I am very content to stay right where I am.
Of course part of the reason is practical: work and housing and all. It took us years to get established here, and we are not interested in starting over from scratch somewhere else. But we actually did want to live here. In July, I was scratching my head to think of one good reason why.
Now it's August and it's all coming back to me. Cicadas. Crickets. Mimosa trees. Thunderstorms. Hot sun and cool breeze. Fertile soil and bountiful harvests. Windows open day and night.
You see, I am in love with fresh air. I want the maximum number of "outside days" I can get. Virginia isn't perfect, but it scores pretty high.
The problem is that the placement of the outside days throws me for a loop. They start in April, when I don't expect them. I enjoy them for a bit, but then I start to take them for granted, because soon it will be summer and it will be even nicer, right?
Then June hit and we had to shut up all the windows in the heat of the day, then all day. We'd play outside, but it was always either too hot or too buggy. July was the same only worse and with more thunderstorms. This summer it would be over 100 degrees for a week. The garden turned into a jungle of weeds.
But now it's August and so, so lovely. I don't want to let it slip by like the spring did. I reckon we'll get till late October, and then I'll have to shut all the windows again. When we start homeschooling, I'll make a schedule that respects our climate: school during summer and winter only, with holidays on pleasant days.
A few more things I love about where I live:
The rolling hills. As a Westerner, I don't call them mountains, but that doesn't mean I'm not fond of them. I love the way you can drive along them and get long views of the valley below around every bend. The vineyards and farmland look like another era, with wisps of smoke and mist drifting up out of hollows. It reminds me of Assisi, one of my favorite places in the world.
My neighborhood. It reminds me of the one I grew up in. 1950's factory workers' homes, along a quiet street where no one drives but your own neighbors. Kids ride their bikes up and down and no one complains. Everyone's got a front porch, and sometimes I hear them calling from porch to porch. They're happy to share a bag of cherry tomatoes or help pick up fallen branches in our yard.
Our town. Sure, it's a little rundown and junky; there are way more sleazy hotels and tattoo parlors than you'd think one town could support. But it's open and friendly. It's near some lovely farm country. There's a great parish with lots of young families and a bus that takes me around for 50 cents.
We've been making friends, getting involved, really putting down roots here. I'm not saying we'll never leave, but for now I am very content to stay right where I am.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
The actually-eat-lunch challenge
Lately it's come to my attention that I don't eat actual meals. I sort of graze. I think that's fine in general, except what I was eating wasn't that good for me. I mean, I was living off of PBJ crusts, chunks of cheese, and bites of cookie dough and wondering why I wasn't feeling quite right. Meanwhile Marko was mainly forgetting to eat until suddenly he was starving, and then he wanted nothing other than a peanut butter sandwich because he has no imagination when it comes to food. And then my friend's mom gave me a talking-to about how, as the mother, it's my job to take good care of myself so I can nourish my babies, and I was sold. I decided to make a point of actually planning what I'm going to eat, and actually eating it at a relatively regular time. In short, I am going to eat lunch.
Dinner is no problem; I always eat a good dinner because I make it for the family. Breakfast I tend to keep light, but I do eat it -- usually either yogurt or fruit and bread. Lunch is the clincher. If I can eat a good lunch daily, I will actually achieve the famed Three Squares a Day for the first time since college.
Last time I went to the store, I made a point of buying things for lunch. That meant buying things that I like and will eat. I don't generally eat meat for lunch very often. I like my lunches to include a lot of veggies, if possible. I don't like always eating the same thing. It has to be fairly quick to make, but interesting and tasty. So I stocked up on my favorite whole grain bread, tortillas, fruit, and fresh vegetables. I purposely bought only two pounds of cheese for two weeks instead of the usual three, because I know if cheese is around I eat nothing else.
Here are some things I have been eating for lunch:
Veggie wraps: I slather a tortilla in homemade mayo and toss in whatever veggies I can find, along with cheese cubes or chickpeas to give it a bit more protein. They usually include tomato, lettuce, cucumber, and/or purslane. I've had these most days this week and they are YUM. I mean delicious.
Pasta: This is a pretty easy dish to make and you can put anything on it you want. Yesterday I had some slow-roasted tomatoes and some green beans from my garden, so I put those in some noodles along with onions, olive oil, and parmesan cheese. So good.
Sandwiches: I love a good tomato-and-cheese sandwich. Bacon optional if it's available. Other good additions are cucumber, lettuce, or spinach. Oh, and you know what else would be good? Sprouts! >makes mental note<
Smoothies: These are more of a midafternoon snack. We always have a snack around here, and I like it best if it's not PBJ again. Some favorites are pumpkin smoothies, strawberry smoothies, and peach smoothies. Aldi has bags of frozen fruit which I use for the last two. For the first, I take pumpkin from my garden, spice it up like pie filling, and stick it in the freezer till it's getting a little frozen. Then I blend it with homemade yogurt.
Quesadillas: With just cheese, these are a little boring and a little lacking in the veggie department. But there's nothing stopping you from throwing in some pico de gallo (I make my own), green peppers, heck, even beans if you've got them around. Though at that point it's easier to turn it into a burrito.
The wonderful benefit of eating lunch? Marko sees me eating my special, delicious meal that I made just for me out of things that I particularly like, and he's drawn like a bee to honey. He only eats a few bites, and I make sure I've made plenty so I can share. The important thing is that he's eating nutritious, flavorful things which help make up for the rather uniform diet he eats otherwise. (I don't need to say the word PBJ again, do I?)
What do you like to eat for lunch?
Dinner is no problem; I always eat a good dinner because I make it for the family. Breakfast I tend to keep light, but I do eat it -- usually either yogurt or fruit and bread. Lunch is the clincher. If I can eat a good lunch daily, I will actually achieve the famed Three Squares a Day for the first time since college.
Last time I went to the store, I made a point of buying things for lunch. That meant buying things that I like and will eat. I don't generally eat meat for lunch very often. I like my lunches to include a lot of veggies, if possible. I don't like always eating the same thing. It has to be fairly quick to make, but interesting and tasty. So I stocked up on my favorite whole grain bread, tortillas, fruit, and fresh vegetables. I purposely bought only two pounds of cheese for two weeks instead of the usual three, because I know if cheese is around I eat nothing else.
Here are some things I have been eating for lunch:
Veggie wraps: I slather a tortilla in homemade mayo and toss in whatever veggies I can find, along with cheese cubes or chickpeas to give it a bit more protein. They usually include tomato, lettuce, cucumber, and/or purslane. I've had these most days this week and they are YUM. I mean delicious.
Pasta: This is a pretty easy dish to make and you can put anything on it you want. Yesterday I had some slow-roasted tomatoes and some green beans from my garden, so I put those in some noodles along with onions, olive oil, and parmesan cheese. So good.
Sandwiches: I love a good tomato-and-cheese sandwich. Bacon optional if it's available. Other good additions are cucumber, lettuce, or spinach. Oh, and you know what else would be good? Sprouts! >makes mental note<
Smoothies: These are more of a midafternoon snack. We always have a snack around here, and I like it best if it's not PBJ again. Some favorites are pumpkin smoothies, strawberry smoothies, and peach smoothies. Aldi has bags of frozen fruit which I use for the last two. For the first, I take pumpkin from my garden, spice it up like pie filling, and stick it in the freezer till it's getting a little frozen. Then I blend it with homemade yogurt.
Quesadillas: With just cheese, these are a little boring and a little lacking in the veggie department. But there's nothing stopping you from throwing in some pico de gallo (I make my own), green peppers, heck, even beans if you've got them around. Though at that point it's easier to turn it into a burrito.
The wonderful benefit of eating lunch? Marko sees me eating my special, delicious meal that I made just for me out of things that I particularly like, and he's drawn like a bee to honey. He only eats a few bites, and I make sure I've made plenty so I can share. The important thing is that he's eating nutritious, flavorful things which help make up for the rather uniform diet he eats otherwise. (I don't need to say the word PBJ again, do I?)
What do you like to eat for lunch?
Monday, August 20, 2012
Nursing two not-so-different babies
After he was weaned, I was looking forward to having another baby and getting it right this time. The next would be easier. And it has been -- but it still hasn't been effortless. It's required some thought, and I've spent awhile trying to figure out various issues. On the other hand, it's cast a lot of light on the problems I had with Marko.
With Marko, you may remember, he didn't nurse right away when he was born. He was taken away from me to suction and didn't show any interest in nursing when I got him back. I was told that he would sleep for about twelve hours and I could feed him when he woke up. About nine hours into his epic sleep (only as a second-time mom do I now realize how weird it is for a baby to sleep twelve hours!) a lactation consultant had me wake him. He still showed no interest in nursing. He was sleepy and wasn't rooting at all. The LC kind of shoved his face at the breast a few times, and when that didn't work, she told me I had flat nipples and he would never be able to latch. Then she gave me a silicone shield, and we got him to latch with that.
It was only the next day that I learned that it's very hard to wean a baby off a shield, and also it might harm my supply. The second LC told me I would have to pump after every feed. I was very upset. I had thought nursing was going to be so easy, and all of a sudden it was getting really complicated. It was only the third LC I saw in the hospital that actually got Marko to latch on without the shield ... once. But then I was discharged and it took me 11 weeks to get him off that shield for good.
When I weaned Marko off the shield, my supply went through the roof, and my cycles, which had returned, went away again. (I have never heard of this happening to anyone else!) Clearly that shield was doing some harm. I was thrilled to have more milk and all was well for about ... a week. But then suddenly Marko started doing something strange. He would cry as if he were hungry, and I would put him to the breast, but he'd turn his head away and scream.
That got worse and worse for about two months. I had to fight to get him to nurse at all. Some weeks I had success by nursing him really often -- like every 45 minutes. Some weeks he would only nurse lying down, or while I was walking around. Going on a strict every-two-hour schedule helped more than anything, which was a surprise to me. It didn't mean ignoring his cues, because he never asked to nurse. I had been just nursing whenever he fussed because it was the only cue I had. When, at nine months, he crawled into my lap and lunged at the breast, I almost cried. It was the first time in his life he'd ever shown that he actually wanted to nurse.
I considered many issues: teething, oversupply, undersupply, overactive letdown, underactive letdown, tongue tie. I dismissed tongue tie, though, because he seemed to be swallowing fine when I did get him to nurse, and because I wasn't having any pain. It couldn't be undersupply because I could easily express milk when he was refusing it. It really seemed to me like nursing was hurting him somehow. I suspected reflux, and went on an elimination diet which did help, or which at least seemed to help. Occasionally, when stressed or overstimulated, he still refused to nurse occasionally.
When, at five and a half months, he was looking pretty thin (he'd been quite chubby at three months, but had actually lost a little weight during the worst month) I let him grab food off of my plate like he'd been trying to do for weeks. He scarfed it right down. There was very little he tolerated at that age -- mostly just meat and beans -- but he was soon eating three meals a day and loving it. He still nursed in a businesslike way, though usually because I offered it. He was easily fussy and frustrated while nursing; the only way to calm him was to let him play with (read: pull) my hair.
He nursed till 19 months, when excruciating pain confirmed that I did not at all want to nurse through pregnancy. He hasn't seemed to miss it, and I don't really have any regrets about that. I figured we'd had a good run.
Well, let me tell you, it was a huge shock to me when I noticed one day, while brushing his teeth, that he has a tongue tie. A very visible one -- a thread under his tongue that you can see whenever he lifts it. When I asked him to stick out his tongue, he could only get it a little way out,and it turned heart-shaped. I asked him to touch his nose with his tongue, which I did to show him, and he could barely get it over his upper lip.
All I could say was no.freaking.wonder I had trouble nursing this child! It was actually a relief, realizing it wasn't all my fault. That silicone shield might have been the only thing that got him nursing at all, when his mouth was still tiny and nursing would have been hardest. And I have recently learned that nursing with a tongue tie may be painful for the baby and not for the mother. Stretching the tongue up to nurse makes that tight frenulum hurt. I wonder if that could have been one reason he was so resistant to nursing. On the other hand, a tongue tie can also cause reflux, because it gets the baby swallowing air. So he might have had that too.
So then I had another baby. Michael had a much smoother start. He latched on within thirty minutes of birth. And then he pretty much stayed latched on for the first 48 hours or so. Once my milk came in, he shifted to nursing every hour or so, which was delightful to me -- I could eat and go to the bathroom! It was pretty obvious to me from the start that I had an oversupply. I had a lot of milk with Marko, but this was way more. Michael was sometimes overwhelmed by it, choking and pulling off to let the milk spray everywhere. But it didn't discourage him from wanting to eat all the time.
He is a very burpy, spitty baby. Our biggest issue with cosleeping was having to get up after each feed to burp the baby. It was hard for awhile to get him to burp at all -- it's much easier now. But he still spits up a lot. I wondered for awhile if he could possibly be keeping anything down, but he was gaining weight at a phenomenal pace, so clearly some was getting through. But around three months old, I started trying to work on that oversupply by doing block feeding. Nothing drastic -- just trying to make sure he was emptying one side before offering the other. I'd made the mistake up to then of switching sides every time he pulled off to burp, when really he wasn't finished.
Only that was not a success. Michael does not want a half-empty breast. He wants a full breast. He wants the milk to let down instantly, and he wants it to flow so fast he can barely keep up. He might be choking, but he likes that. I think he is used to it. If I put him on the emptier side, he fusses and yanks at it. The same for after the letdown is over -- he pulls off and on again, or clamps his gums and pulls. There is definitely milk there; I can express it easily. But it isn't hosing him in the face like he's used to. Like Marko, he always unlatches himself when he's done. He rarely stays on for a leisurely nursing marathon -- instead the yanking-off increases until I declare the nursing session is over. Once I've burped him, he doesn't often want to get back on again, unless I give him the other side. But if I give him the other side, he spits it all back up again. Occasionally he does what I dread more than anything -- flings his head away from the breast and screams. Luckily I can deal with that easily enough, especially compared to Marko (who once starved himself for four hours, screaming the entire time, before I calmed him down enough to eat). I just calm him down, do something else, and try again later. Or I put him in the wrap and he falls asleep instead. I'm not worried because he still nurses really often.
Elimination communication has been very reassuring to me, because I have been able to see that he isn't at all dehydrated and has been getting plenty of milk. On the other hand, he is rather constipated. (Yes, I know exclusively breastfed babies aren't supposed to get constipated. But he IS!)
It's frustrating though. I thought with this one it was supposed to be easy!
I can't be quite sure Michael does not have a tongue tie. He doesn't have an obvious one like Marko has. He does have an upper lip tie, but that is stretched out enough now that he has no trouble flipping his lip out correctly when he latches on. But I know there is such a thing as a posterior tongue tie that isn't visible. I don't know of any local expert who could tell if he has one or not. They do run in families, so it is quite possible that I could have multiple children with tongue ties. (If you are interested in the genetic causes of tongue tie, read the last link on this page -- apparently one issue is not being able to turn folic acid into folate, which leads to a folate deficiency resulting in tongue tie and other problems in a woman's unborn children. Certainly motivated me to eat my liver instead of relying on prenatal vitamins, whether or not I have this mutation.)
It could also just be that he's accustomed to a fast flow now, and doesn't want it to slow down. He never learned to suck hard because he never had to learn. So now he's kind of lazy about it. He can't keep a pacifier in either. He'll suck on it for a bit, and then it falls out. Marko was the same. Neither of them has ever been willing to nurse on an empty breast to increase supply. They could be starving, but once they realize the milk isn't going to come rushing out, they scream and refuse to try. It's of course hard to say, because I have so much milk that this rarely happens and so maybe they just haven't been hungry enough to try. All I know is, they have both preferred a full breast and a quick letdown.
Here are some links that I've found helpful. The first two are about oversupply and the second two are about tongue tie. You'll notice that a lot of the symptoms are the same for both. And if I have oversupply AND the kids have tongue tie ... would those help cancel each other out? Most tongue tied babies have trouble getting enough, and supply goes down. In that case oversupply might be a blessing.
Colic in the Breastfed Baby
Gaining, Gulping, and Grimacing
Feeding problems from a tongue tie
One genetic cause of tongue tie
I'm going to see if I can get to a La Leche League meeting, just to ask around for some tips. Since Michael is eating well -- albeit every hour, with lots of puking -- and gaining just fine, I'm not exactly worried. But I'd like to know what's going on. Is this his personality, or is he honestly having trouble? And am I going to have to nurse five kids before I can say I know what I'm doing?
Sunday, August 19, 2012
But ARE they spoiled?
You hear it constantly. American children are spoiled. There's no question about that. The question asked is always WHY they are so spoiled. And then book after book is written that is supposed to "cure" your child of being spoiled. French parenting, tiger mothering, Biblical discipline, whatever it is, the goal is to stop your child from being spoiled like "all the other kids nowadays."
But I think that before answering that question, we first need to figure out what exactly we mean by the word "spoiled," and perhaps consider what factors contribute to kids being spoiled -- if, in fact, they are spoiled at all.
The other day I read an article in the New Yorker called Why Are American Children So Spoiled? It compared American children with children of primitive tribes. The big stand-out point was that the primitive children were, at the age of six, capable of taking care of themselves and contributing to the tribe, whereas American children are constantly needing their shoes tied or snacks to be prepared for them. We wouldn't imagine making a six-year-old responsible for taking care of himself.
But as I read through it more carefully, it seemed to be conflating two completely different things: children who lack the ability to do certain tasks, and children who are spoiled by parents "giving in to them." The author seemed to think that "just saying no" more often would help. But a mother quoted in the article was talking about how she had made her son take out the trash. He had done it, but not fastened the lid back on tightly afterward. A bear got into the trash and strewed it all over the yard. The mother cleaned it up and reflected that having him do the work was much harder than just doing it herself.
Saying "no" more often isn't going to teach an eight-year-old how to take out the trash. You have to actually teach the child to do the task. Like tying shoes. Most children reach an age where they really want to dress themselves. But parents don't want to let them do it. What they want is a child who is completely ready to get dressed with no input, in a short amount of time. What they don't want is a child who is learning to dress himself and takes forever tying and retying his shoes, to get it right. So they swoop in and "help," over the objections of the child, because they'll be late if they wait for the child to tie his own shoes. Then a few years down the line we wonder why our kids can't tie their own shoes.
I don't think incapacity to do simple tasks is the same thing as being spoiled. I just think the skills and habits necessary haven't been taught. Teaching those things takes time, and it's much easier to do it ourselves ... until we find our kids are totally dependent on us, at an age where we'd rather be having them contribute a little.
I recently struggled with this issue with Marko. He wanted something to eat, so he came to me and asked me for "summin deet," as he puts it. I said, "Not right now, I can't get up to get it for you." Well, he walked right into the kitchen, opened the fridge (what?! he can open the fridge?), got out a package of baloney (yeah, I know, I'm not as all-natural as I make myself sound), and brought it to me to open. I had two opposing impulses at that point. The first one was, "Oh, no, I can't have him opening the fridge. I need to put a lock on it or teach him not to open it." But the second was, "He can get his own snack all by himself! I should encourage this!"
I chose the second. Sure, I often have to get him to shut the fridge when he just holds it open and stares inside, like some new delicious thing is going to materialize if he waits long enough. But don't teenage boys do that too? And occasionally I have to keep sending him back to put the ketchup, the mustard, or the mayo back in the fridge. But if I am careful about arranging my fridge with the Marko snacks on the bottom, and I make it a point not to buy things I'm not willing to share, I really can let him get his own snacks. That's huge. If at two he can get a piece of cheese or some baloney, maybe in another year or two I can teach him to pour his own milk and make his own sandwich, and I can wash my hands of making him snacks for good. Since I want to have a lot of kids, this is definitely a goal I'd like to reach sooner rather than later.
I've mentioned before that, as parents, we tend to look for a way to train our children to do something, when really what they need is to be taught. We struggle over getting kids to put away their toys, for instance, when the fact is they really don't know how and aren't being stubborn. (Marko's getting there, but it's far from easy for him still. He has to be directed the whole time. But it's an investment.)
I'm not saying there's no such thing as a spoiled child. There probably is. I think I would define spoiled as "trained to expect something that society does not find it acceptable to expect." Some cultures would think that a child wanting to be hugged or held is "spoiled," because their culture does not believe in hugging children. But I don't consider this spoiled, because I think it's a reasonable expectation that I don't mind satisfying. However, expecting me to buy a toy on every shopping trip, or provide candy at every meal, would be evidence of a spoiled child, because I do not intend to fulfill that expectation.
Children expect what we teach them to expect. If we make ourselves the one to do everything for a child, he expects that. If we always make a special meal for a picky child, he expects that. None of these things are really a problem if it's what you actually want to be doing. "Spoiling" is relative to what you think a child should be expecting. But if you, as the parent, expect a child who is completely independent and asks for nothing, when you've spent the child's whole life doing everything for him and never teaching him how to do more ... it's possible that you're the one with the wrong expectation.
But I think that before answering that question, we first need to figure out what exactly we mean by the word "spoiled," and perhaps consider what factors contribute to kids being spoiled -- if, in fact, they are spoiled at all.
The other day I read an article in the New Yorker called Why Are American Children So Spoiled? It compared American children with children of primitive tribes. The big stand-out point was that the primitive children were, at the age of six, capable of taking care of themselves and contributing to the tribe, whereas American children are constantly needing their shoes tied or snacks to be prepared for them. We wouldn't imagine making a six-year-old responsible for taking care of himself.
But as I read through it more carefully, it seemed to be conflating two completely different things: children who lack the ability to do certain tasks, and children who are spoiled by parents "giving in to them." The author seemed to think that "just saying no" more often would help. But a mother quoted in the article was talking about how she had made her son take out the trash. He had done it, but not fastened the lid back on tightly afterward. A bear got into the trash and strewed it all over the yard. The mother cleaned it up and reflected that having him do the work was much harder than just doing it herself.
Saying "no" more often isn't going to teach an eight-year-old how to take out the trash. You have to actually teach the child to do the task. Like tying shoes. Most children reach an age where they really want to dress themselves. But parents don't want to let them do it. What they want is a child who is completely ready to get dressed with no input, in a short amount of time. What they don't want is a child who is learning to dress himself and takes forever tying and retying his shoes, to get it right. So they swoop in and "help," over the objections of the child, because they'll be late if they wait for the child to tie his own shoes. Then a few years down the line we wonder why our kids can't tie their own shoes.
I don't think incapacity to do simple tasks is the same thing as being spoiled. I just think the skills and habits necessary haven't been taught. Teaching those things takes time, and it's much easier to do it ourselves ... until we find our kids are totally dependent on us, at an age where we'd rather be having them contribute a little.
I recently struggled with this issue with Marko. He wanted something to eat, so he came to me and asked me for "summin deet," as he puts it. I said, "Not right now, I can't get up to get it for you." Well, he walked right into the kitchen, opened the fridge (what?! he can open the fridge?), got out a package of baloney (yeah, I know, I'm not as all-natural as I make myself sound), and brought it to me to open. I had two opposing impulses at that point. The first one was, "Oh, no, I can't have him opening the fridge. I need to put a lock on it or teach him not to open it." But the second was, "He can get his own snack all by himself! I should encourage this!"
I chose the second. Sure, I often have to get him to shut the fridge when he just holds it open and stares inside, like some new delicious thing is going to materialize if he waits long enough. But don't teenage boys do that too? And occasionally I have to keep sending him back to put the ketchup, the mustard, or the mayo back in the fridge. But if I am careful about arranging my fridge with the Marko snacks on the bottom, and I make it a point not to buy things I'm not willing to share, I really can let him get his own snacks. That's huge. If at two he can get a piece of cheese or some baloney, maybe in another year or two I can teach him to pour his own milk and make his own sandwich, and I can wash my hands of making him snacks for good. Since I want to have a lot of kids, this is definitely a goal I'd like to reach sooner rather than later.
I've mentioned before that, as parents, we tend to look for a way to train our children to do something, when really what they need is to be taught. We struggle over getting kids to put away their toys, for instance, when the fact is they really don't know how and aren't being stubborn. (Marko's getting there, but it's far from easy for him still. He has to be directed the whole time. But it's an investment.)
I'm not saying there's no such thing as a spoiled child. There probably is. I think I would define spoiled as "trained to expect something that society does not find it acceptable to expect." Some cultures would think that a child wanting to be hugged or held is "spoiled," because their culture does not believe in hugging children. But I don't consider this spoiled, because I think it's a reasonable expectation that I don't mind satisfying. However, expecting me to buy a toy on every shopping trip, or provide candy at every meal, would be evidence of a spoiled child, because I do not intend to fulfill that expectation.
Children expect what we teach them to expect. If we make ourselves the one to do everything for a child, he expects that. If we always make a special meal for a picky child, he expects that. None of these things are really a problem if it's what you actually want to be doing. "Spoiling" is relative to what you think a child should be expecting. But if you, as the parent, expect a child who is completely independent and asks for nothing, when you've spent the child's whole life doing everything for him and never teaching him how to do more ... it's possible that you're the one with the wrong expectation.
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