Time Magazine Hates Mothers

I'm shocked, horrified, and downright LIVID to see what Time Magazine put on its recent cover.

No, I'm not upset to see a woman nursing her child. No, it doesn't bother me to see a mom who looks like a model nursing what appears to be a 5 yr old son (reportedly, he's 3). I'm a bit annoyed at the title, "Are You Mom Enough?" that goes with it. When did this become a competition? No, most days I don't feel "Mom Enough", but it has nothing to do with the fact that I no longer nurse my 3 year old.

What peeves me is that it starts people talking about whether or not the mom on the cover "should" be nursing her 3 year old. WHY IS IT THEIR BUSINESS?!?!?!

Yes, Time Magazine ran the cover to get our attention and sell copies. I'm sure they're achieving their goal. Good for you, Time.

But they're also feeding into the notion that people are ENTITLED to have an OPINION on the choices that OTHER PARENTS make regarding parenting their own children. Since when do you have the right to make a judgement upon the myriad decisions I make for my children on a daily basis? Oh sure, if I'm doing something illegal or blatantly dangerous (like placing them on the tracks in front of an oncoming train), then tell me. Please, do protect my children from my dumb decisions. But what harm does it do if I nurse my girls until they're 4? Am I a horrific mom because we didn't make it past their 1st birthdays? I'm going to confess a deep dark horrific secret:  I stopped nursing MeToo at 10 months. I didn't even make it to the 12 month mark. Why? Because I was going to Scotland for a week, and the mechanics of keeping my milk up for a week in her absence were just too annoying. Please, judge me now. Go ahead.

No, you shouldn't judge me!!! You don't have the right to have an opinion about the choices I make for my children! Why do people think they have this right?!?!

During a week that we should be preparing to thank our mothers for all that they have done and all that they continue to do, Time Magazine is stirring up controversy about what is the "right" or "wrong" way to parent children. Yes, the article is about Dr. Sears and Attachment Parenting. But that's not what the cover is about. The cover is about inciting judgement and self-righteousness about the choices that we and others make. We should be busy encouraging each other in the hard work of parenting that we do, instead.

Shame on you Time Magazine.

Would this make your mother proud?

A Few Things I've Learned From Strep

I despise being sick. This is something I've known for a while. (Hint hint God, you don't need to keep reminding me!) But I will acknowledge that there are a few lessons I've learned the last few days, thanks to strep throat. I thought I'd share a few of them with you today.

• iPhones are great tools for taking pictures of your nasty tonsils
• Strep-infested tonsils are gross
• Febrile sweating is a great way to lose a pound or so while you sleep
• Febrile loss of appetite is a great way to lose a pound or so while you don't sleep
• Definitely time any necessary strep throat before swimsuit season
• Household demands don't seem to notice that you're sick
• But they do taunt you while you're lying on the couch. I swear the cobweb on the living room curtain rod was laughing at me yesterday...
• Getting sick lowers my patience to a threshold similar to that of 2 year olds
• You need to have patience greater than a 2 year old to effectively manage a 2 year old
• Attempting to manage a normal life while sick is sometimes necessary
• And it makes you bad@ss

Wash your hands, friends.

Swallowing Rocks Studded With Nails

Today is a "sick day." Well, I'm home from work because I have strep throat. Already fragile patients in Rehab Hospitals don't respond well to being exposed to strep throat. I'm fine with this concept. But the girls are home with me because they also have strep throat. So while we're all sick, I don't think this counts as a "sick day" in the way that I used to know them. Before kids, "sick days" were days that you were too sick to go to work, so you stayed at home, horizontal on your couch or bed. You didn't exert yourself. You caught up on sleep. Maybe someone even made you chicken soup. But apparently moms don't get "sick days". 


I went to bed early, but couldn't manage to fall asleep quickly. And when I finally did, I spent the night sweating like a marathoner, waking fitfully to find myself swallowing rocks studded with nails. Ok, so in reality I was only swallowing my own saliva. But it felt like I was swallowing rocks studded with nails. Or maybe just shards of glass. 


Have I mentioned that I don't like strep throat?


I ridiculously assumed that my girls, also stricken with strep throat, would be willing to take a nap. Consequently, I would be able to take a nap. At least I could have an hour or so of a "sick day." Alas, it was not to be so. They're well enough to not take a nap, but not well enough to handle the elements of daily life without dissolving into whining, arguments, and tears every 10 minutes. Sigh.


So we're eating a lot of yogurt to combat the antibiotics we're taking. I had to make another batch of yogurt today. I suspect it will last us until Friday. Maybe longer if I ever get up the will to serve something different for dinner. 


Oh, and today is a day that MeToo has decided that she wants to wear undies and use the potty. So I'm cleaning pee accidents at inconvenient intervals. The fun just never stops.


Wash your hands, friends. You don't want my "sick day" to happen to you!

Moms Aren't Allowed to Get Sick

I'm glad I have a fever. You can't make a fever happen or not happen. It just is. And in my book, it's proof that I have a RIGHT to feel this crappy. Because Moms aren't allowed to get sick. Life is just not structured for Mom sickness. Well, at least mine isn't...

And if my kids have to get sick, I'm glad we're all finally sick at the SAME TIME. So we can all lie on the couch together, happy to watch PBS Kids. And schedule all of our doctors appointments within a 2 hour stretch. This is a convenient illness, if you ask me. We usually stretch out our illnesses over a week, where there's always a conflict between people who want to go to the playground vs. people who want to lie on the couch and watch PBS. Or just sleep and moan (that's my typical response to being sick).

I rarely take my kids to the doctor for "looking sick". They need serious or prolonged symptoms to get me to make the trek. But a fever in me is a rare thing. And the hideous tonsils lurking in the girls' throats? They're pretty serious.

And I always question myself when I start to feel droopy. Am I REALLY getting sick? Or just being a wuss? Have I gotten enough sleep? Had enough caffeine to drink? PMS-ing? Just in a crabby mood? Procrastinating from some task I really despise? But why do I really doubt myself? Sometimes I DO get SICK. I know it's not ALLOWED to happen, but hey, call me a rebel.

BestestHusband had a thing in his mouth that he was already taking antibiotics for, and his doctor agreed today that this was the reason he DOESN'T currently have strep. He was signed up for another course of antibiotics for his mouth thing, and told to eat a lot of yogurt. "My wife happens to make it by the gallon," he told her. "Unsweetened?" Yes, when I make yogurt by the gallon, I do make it unsweetened. Perhaps my yogurt-as-procrastination habit isn't such a bad one, after all...

Our current pharmacopeia.

WARNING! NASTY TONSIL PICTURES TO FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY!

This is what strep throat looks like.

The nurse who looked in my mouth informed me that I have white patches in my throat.
Now you can see them too!

Stewardship Sunday, Febrile Edition

I think the Ibuprofen's starting to work. I feel like doing something other than lying on the couch. Well, I'm typing while lying on the couch. But it's still an upgrade. I can't remember the last time I had a fever. But I now remember why I don't like them.


MeToo has swollen tonsils. And she's been sucking on her Paci like I take to Junior Mints. Poor kid.


So let's make this quick.


Food waste: I need to toss half a can of hummus. (yes, a can. I get it at the Lebanese market.) I tossed a few Tbsp of salad dressing because I needed the measuring cup I mixed it in. I have a batch of yogurt dill sauce that needs to be tossed.


Patience: I didn't exercise as much this week, and was wiped out from my body fighting this bug. This definitely affected my patience.


M&Ms: In a moment of weakness, I bought peanut M&Ms to replenish the potty treat container. There were many more weak moments after that.


Money: We went to both Trader Joes and Target. Yikes.


Hope you have a great week. With healthy tonsils.

Special Treat

I got a special treat this morning. I got to rock my baby to sleep.


This is a rare thing for me. Mostly because, having 2 kids 14 months apart, I greatly prioritized having 2 kids who could put themselves to sleep in their own cribs. And as soon as I could wean them off of being rocked to sleep, I did. So it's been a while.


But MeToo was up before 6am this morning. And crawling into our bed did not result in her falling back asleep. Instead, I got a sharp-nailed scalp "massage" and an annoying amount of hair-pulling. And after helping her slide down from the bed, one dog got locked in a kennel, and a few pairs of my shoes were retrieved and lined up on the floor. BestestHusband finally took her upstairs about 75 minutes later, and let me actually get some sleep. So around 11:15 this morning, MeToo was crashing hard. 


Take a nap? Heck no!!! Rock with Mama? Ok. So she curled her little body into my lap and melted into my arms. This is one of the small joys of parenthood. A little one who can curl up and mold her body onto yours. With a perfect fit. 


I have no plans to start rocking the girls to sleep again. But once in a while, it's a special treat.

Job Satisfaction

I realize that I’ve been discussing the less-rosy side of parenting quite a bit lately. I’m definitely not being even-handed about the parenting experience. There are plenty of days that leave you feeling like you just got assaulted by an almighty 2x4 (my SIL’s phrase), but I have yet to find any other job that can bring moments of pure joy quite like being a parent.

I experienced one of those joy moments earlier this week. We were frolicking among the pollen-producers (I mean, LILACS), and I was doing my best to just BE and ENJOY where we were. It’s part of my new attempt to have more fun. We had a little picnic, and the girls were roaming amongst the lilac bushes when HeyMama decided to roll down the hill. It was a great hill to roll down. She had a blast. So MeToo had to do the same thing. She loved it. She rolled down the hill over and over again, as only little kids can, giggling maniacally. The rolling caught the attention of passer-bys, the elderly Russian ladies who paused to smile and chatter amongst themselves. It was funny, because MeToo couldn’t quite figure out how to roll DOWN the hill, just sideways across it. A gentleman walking with his elderly Russian father stopped to video the goings-on. He asked for my email address and emailed a video clip. I watch it frequently. The joy is contagious.

We get endless moments of joy throughout the day:

·      “Mama, I wuv uu.” MeToo presses her face up against mine, grinning from ear to ear.

·      Listening to the girls work on an “art project” together, sharing scissors and markers.

·      Watching the girls struggle to lug their hand-baskets through the market as they try to help, “Mama, can we get pears? Do we need more peppers?”

·      Walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalk.

·      Listening to HeyMama narrate a play situation where she needs to take “extra-special care” of Marabelle.

·      Listening to MeToo sing along to the soundtrack inside her tiny head.

·      Watching the girls react to BestestHusband coming home at the end of the day.

We get moments of joy in the evenings:

·      The girls run around the kitchen, chasing each other and giggling.

·      And at bedtime, snuggly in their footie jammies, the girls cuddle up to read bedtime stories.

·      They say their bedtime prayers so earnestly. “Dear Jesus, thank you for yellow.” “Dear Jesus, please help Mama’s back feel better.”

Every age has come with its own set of small joys:

·      Relaxing on the couch with a newborn curled up, napping, on your chest.

·      The first newborn smiles.

·      Rocking a tired baby to sleep.

·      The endless “firsts” of infants: rolling, sitting, pulling up, cruising, standing, walking.

·      A little face that lights up when they see you.

I’ve had the pleasure to work in a lot of jobs that allow for satisfaction. But there really is nothing quite like the job of parenting.

What’s on your list of small joys?