Recently, my academic and Catholic blog reading has collided in a weird way--in my mind, anyway. There has been this meme hopping around the Catholic blogs, answered here by Entropy and here by Mrs. Darwin, that measures privilege. Sort of. I have been tempted--sorely tempted--to answer it. But something has prevented me. Perhaps the same thing that tempts me to turn off comments on this post--not sure what that is, though.
Then, I have been following a series of posts on Anastasia's blog here, here, here and here--about the role of one's socio-economic background in one's academic success and, ultimately, one's success in Academia. I actually don't like to use the word "class" here, because, as Anastasia points out, there is more to class than money, and "class" is often very narrowly--or conveniently--defined, depending on one's agenda. As several of my dissertation chapters do deal with class (ugh), my dissertation director & I have discussed class a teensy bit, his opinion being that it is more relevant in Britain than the U.S., since class is actually a very different thing in the U.S. than in Britain--dependent on more independent factors, which I write at the risk of sounding circular. I have not commented on the posts because I'm not entirely sure I want to read what other people have said on the topic. (You know when you just want to resist getting bogged down in the debate? That's where I am. . .) So I have relied on Anastasia's accounts of what others have said, and her responses make a lot of sense to me. Our circumstances intersect at times(check the comments for an explanation of this).
All of this called for a response. So whadya think? How privileged am I? Have I mentioned recently that my mother is living with my little brother in a house without plumbing? Or that when growing up I knew more about Catholic Charities than most Catholics? There's a long history here, but I have a disclaimer: People thought of these things differently in New Orleans when I was growing up than how they are perceived elsewhere, now. I didn't feel less privileged than my peers. Though I did have a "friend" remark that, unlike her, I wouldn't have to worry about competitive scholarships 'cause I could qualify for financial aid. Nice. So I have perhaps too many comments on this, but here goes:
From What Privileges Do You Have?, based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)
Bold the true statements.
1. Father went to college Think so, but I didn't know him. My mother's second husband was a high school drop out.
2. Father finished college
3. Mother went to college
4. Mother finished college I don't think it counts if she finished after me. We were in school at the same time and alternated days so I could babysit while she was in class.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers. Tough call. Not according to household income.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children's books by a parent I could read for as long as I can remember, though that may be a cognitive effect of literacy. I'm sure my mother probably read to me when I was little & she had time. I read to everyone when I was older!
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively Tough call, but we dressed well. Better than others. My mom sewed & believed that you could always afford to dress nicely. We were all well spoken.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs Ummmm. . . No. She was getting loans too. My grandmother paid my summer tuition as a graduation present, allowing me to enroll & get dual credit to graduate from high school a year early.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
16. Went to a private high school
17. Went to summer camp
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels No vacations since I was 4.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18 Even though I was the oldest, no. I wore aunts' old clothes.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child My mother's--she was an art major.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house When I was 8 or 9 they bought the house that currently has no plumbing & is still being paid. 800 sq. ft. 3 bedroom, 1 bath for as many as 2 adults and 6 children at a time.
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home Does "owned" mean paid? It was still an undivided community when I left. . .
25. You had your own room as a child
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school It only worked for video games--really old. If it even still worked by then. . .
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16 To New York at 15 to work at a Christian Camp, which ruined me for organized Christianity for a while
31. Went on a cruise with your family
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family
8/34 = 23.5%
My husband scored 50%. I married up! Hahaha
I think perhaps family size could be a factor, but I wouldn't know how to factor for it. I might have asked about free/reduced lunch at school. That can carry a stigma.
My mother grew up perhaps a bit more privileged than I did. My grandfather provided for his family very well working for a large oil company. He stayed in New Orleans with said oil company even when many of his friends there moved over to Houston. My grandmother was the daughter of sharecroppers. There were some issues about what was appropriate for girls re:education. At least, my mother was not helped at all, which is why her first college experience ended quickly. But my grandfather did value education, and bitterly regretted his own lack of college, while regarding it a bastion of liberalism (fairly, I think). This was also a positive influence on me when I was growing up. My mother had a high value for education. So while economically we were below the poverty level, our values were not what are typically considered working class values. I did not doubt that I would attend college, though I did not expect anyone else to pay for it. My mother was questioning and taught us to question. And you know, class just wasn't a big thing. I learned to rely on my abilities.
Which may not have served me as well as you might think. . .
You see, I didn't know how to play the game. In fact, I was decidedly opposed to the game. You know, the connections game. Could I have gotten into a non-commuter non-state or flagship-state school? Maybe. Could I have gone? Practically? No. At least, I don't know how I would have gotten there. My mother didn't even have a major credit card. But in my stubbornly economically disadvantaged ignorance, I didn't think it mattered. I believed that I would get just as good an education as at a big name school. And in many ways, I think I did. But that's not really what matters, as I learned later. Because unless you know people with connections or have a school name to back you up, or are privileged or disadvantaged in the right ways, you don't advance the same way. So I have bopped from state school to state school, and while I have gained a bit--I am in a higher "tier" than I used to be--it is not a school known for liberal arts, which means that even though it's a big name, it's a big name for the wrong things. That's going to hurt. And the ways to overcome that--conferences and publications--I really haven't done. Because, you see, besides not liking to travel by myself and having kids (though I could have left the one behind with my husband more than I did when he was an only child, I just didn't like to!!), I really can't afford to travel to conferences!! Even if you're reimbursed, you need a way to pay for it in the first place, and with student loans filling in where the income leaves gaps, there's no room for extras. Except that I did sacrifice to send my son to some private schools. For better or worse, really, but for better in terms of his self-esteem.
Like Anastasia, I wanted to study classical languages sooner. I wanted to attend the all-boys Catholic high school my husband attended to have the educational advantages I associated (correctly) with that school. I made the "get out while the scholarship is paying" choices rather than the "prepare for grad school" choices, so I was never able to acquire the languages necessary for comparative lit. But growing up in my income bracket paradoxically gave me determination, but a false sense of confidence in my abilities alone, and deprived me of the connections and credentials (i.e. school names) that I now know go a loooooooong way. I wish I didn't believe that, but I really do. And I think it will cost me academically.
I'm wondering, though, what my son will put down as his answer to the same questions. How privileged is he by comparison? Let's see. . .
1. Father went to college
2. Father finished college
3. Mother went to college
4. Mother finished college
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor God willing
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children's books by a parent
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18 Not gonna happen
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
16. Went to a private high school Let's just say yes (and you know, I almost think homeschooling would merit a 'yes' for this. It doesn't prove anything about economics, but it does demonstrate a dedication to quality of education that could fit a certain definition of privilege).
17. Went to summer camp
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels (Did you know that parents going to a conference is a family vacation? At any rate, there aren't many, but staying in hotels is the only option.)
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18 Pretty much
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them Not gonna happen
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child Ummm. . . My mom's. . .
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house For a few years. . .
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home Doubt it
25. You had your own room as a child Yup. For now.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18 Not gonna happen
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course What if he doesn't need it? Or a tutor?
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16
31. Went on a cruise with your family
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up When we can
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family
17/34 = 50% Hmmm. . .
Does materialism = privilege necessarily, or vice versa? There needs to be a distinction between monetary and intellectual privilege here. Know what? That distinction is important to the dissertation, which, despite any obstacles to the contrary--money, family situation--I am indeed writing! (albeit slowly)
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Family blog-new post
This might be really bad form, but I have a family-only blog that feed readers can't read, so I may announce a new post every now & again. Like now.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Gardasil--for the record
While chatting with the "clinic nurse" (as the badge stated) who stuck 4 syringe needles into my sweet little baby this afternoon, the subject of the pain caused by certain vaccinations arose. The baby did not cry at all with the first, but the second, the polio, causes all of the children discomfort. In the second leg, the same happened, and I believe it was the DTaP that made her cry. Well, the tech (as I suppose we should call her) told me casually that she went in to her GYN the other day to get her Gardasil shot. She gives this shot regularly and is told by all of the girls how incredibly, intensely painful it is. She gave it to a 17-year-old the other day and the girl "said the 'f' word" because it was so painful. After getting the shot herself, she doesn't blame the girl for her exclamation. It seems that "official" sources have recorded Gardasil as being the single most painful "childhood" vaccine.
So what I figure is, some good might come out of this after all--as a threat: "If you're caught doing XYZ again, I'm going to make you get the Gardasil injection!!"
So what I figure is, some good might come out of this after all--as a threat: "If you're caught doing XYZ again, I'm going to make you get the Gardasil injection!!"
More Medical Questioning: Cough & Cold Meds
Okay, so I've written about the vaccination thing. I have my reservations. And questioning vaccinations is a countercultural thing, certainly. The FDA doesn't readily give statistics on deaths from vaccinations, and if they did, it wouldn't be reported in the media. So consider this, from CNN:
In 2007, the FDA completed a review that found there were 54 reported child deaths from decongestants and 69 from antihistamines between 1969 and fall 2006.
It is part of the ever-increasing hype about over-the-counter (OTC) medications. In the past several years, we have seen Phenylpropylalamine pulled completely as a decongestant because some people who were abusing it had heart attacks. Then, we have witnessed as Pseudoephedrine (which has always had mild-to-serious heart problems as a side effect--it makes my heart race horribly; I can't take it) has been restricted, put under lock & key, anyone who wishes to purchase it subjected to a near background-check, and now gradually it is being replaced by Phenylephrine--so that we don't go make Meth out of it. And now we're being told that none of it is safe or (possibly) effective.
Well, I don't particularly want to give a child under 2 all of these drugs anyway. And when I do use medicines, even for myself, I tend to use moderate doses, I do not tend to re-dose on schedule, usually waiting at least 6 hours--really as the symptoms dictate, and I tend to wait until the symptoms are really uncomfortable before dosing. So I am not a pill-poppin' momma by any means. But I do think that there is a little too much hysteria in this case. I believe that what is happening is that the safest stuff is being taken off the market, leading to more prescriptions & doctor's visits, and also leading to rash actions--perhaps the administration of a larger dose to a smaller child out of ignorance. But mostly, I believe that this is inspiring false panic.
Consider: there were 54 reported child deaths from decongestants and 69 from antihistamines between 1969 and fall 2006. Okay, let's do the math. That means that in 37 years, of all of the millions of children who received multiple doses several times a year, 54 children died of decongestants and 69 died from antihistamines. That's 1.46 deaths per year from decongestants and 1.86 from antihistamines. Most were in children under 2 years. Well, for starters, take the fact that as long as I can remember, the package labels said, "under 2 consult a doctor" or "not to be given to children under 2." Then, control for overdosing (I was twice given overdoses of cold medicines when I was young--once I was under 4 years) and re-dosing too soon, or too may times in a 24 hour period. Consider that two medicines containing the same drug or different ones in the same category may have been administered simultaneously. Then (and only then) consider the possibility of allergic reactions. How many people do you think died of peanut allergies in the same time frame? Perhaps we should remove peanuts from the market. Or strawberries. Or milk. Now consider that they group "decongestants" together for the purpose of the analysis and "antihistamines." Well, let's see. . . In the time frame mentioned, at least 3 different decongestants were available, one of which has been taken off the market and one is increasingly difficult to get. So which one(s) caused the deaths? As for antihistamines, I can name Diphenhydramine, Chlorpheniramine Maleate and Brompheniramine Maleate off the top of my head. Again, to which one(s) are they attributing the deaths? And why was it necessary to group them all together? Hyperbole? To make their results statistically significant? And why are they vilifying cough meds, too?
Let me reiterate. . . I am cautious about medicines. Very cautious. Others may not be. If they are not effective, that's different. But why are the same people who say that vaccinations are unequivocally safe trying to scare me about my medicine cabinet?
In 2007, the FDA completed a review that found there were 54 reported child deaths from decongestants and 69 from antihistamines between 1969 and fall 2006.
It is part of the ever-increasing hype about over-the-counter (OTC) medications. In the past several years, we have seen Phenylpropylalamine pulled completely as a decongestant because some people who were abusing it had heart attacks. Then, we have witnessed as Pseudoephedrine (which has always had mild-to-serious heart problems as a side effect--it makes my heart race horribly; I can't take it) has been restricted, put under lock & key, anyone who wishes to purchase it subjected to a near background-check, and now gradually it is being replaced by Phenylephrine--so that we don't go make Meth out of it. And now we're being told that none of it is safe or (possibly) effective.
Well, I don't particularly want to give a child under 2 all of these drugs anyway. And when I do use medicines, even for myself, I tend to use moderate doses, I do not tend to re-dose on schedule, usually waiting at least 6 hours--really as the symptoms dictate, and I tend to wait until the symptoms are really uncomfortable before dosing. So I am not a pill-poppin' momma by any means. But I do think that there is a little too much hysteria in this case. I believe that what is happening is that the safest stuff is being taken off the market, leading to more prescriptions & doctor's visits, and also leading to rash actions--perhaps the administration of a larger dose to a smaller child out of ignorance. But mostly, I believe that this is inspiring false panic.
Consider: there were 54 reported child deaths from decongestants and 69 from antihistamines between 1969 and fall 2006. Okay, let's do the math. That means that in 37 years, of all of the millions of children who received multiple doses several times a year, 54 children died of decongestants and 69 died from antihistamines. That's 1.46 deaths per year from decongestants and 1.86 from antihistamines. Most were in children under 2 years. Well, for starters, take the fact that as long as I can remember, the package labels said, "under 2 consult a doctor" or "not to be given to children under 2." Then, control for overdosing (I was twice given overdoses of cold medicines when I was young--once I was under 4 years) and re-dosing too soon, or too may times in a 24 hour period. Consider that two medicines containing the same drug or different ones in the same category may have been administered simultaneously. Then (and only then) consider the possibility of allergic reactions. How many people do you think died of peanut allergies in the same time frame? Perhaps we should remove peanuts from the market. Or strawberries. Or milk. Now consider that they group "decongestants" together for the purpose of the analysis and "antihistamines." Well, let's see. . . In the time frame mentioned, at least 3 different decongestants were available, one of which has been taken off the market and one is increasingly difficult to get. So which one(s) caused the deaths? As for antihistamines, I can name Diphenhydramine, Chlorpheniramine Maleate and Brompheniramine Maleate off the top of my head. Again, to which one(s) are they attributing the deaths? And why was it necessary to group them all together? Hyperbole? To make their results statistically significant? And why are they vilifying cough meds, too?
Let me reiterate. . . I am cautious about medicines. Very cautious. Others may not be. If they are not effective, that's different. But why are the same people who say that vaccinations are unequivocally safe trying to scare me about my medicine cabinet?
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Vaccination Concerns: Just a Mom Thing?
So on my last post, we were speaking purely from the maternal perspective, mentioning "mommy guilt" and discussing whether or not we--as women and mothers--underestimate our importance in decision-making for the health of our families. But what about Dads? My husband is sympathetic to my concerns, wary of new vaccines, but even more than me, perhaps, he supports the old standbys. So what do other husbands say? If husbands are more in favor of the vaccines, why? Just curious!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
HIB, Hep B, and Chicken Pox, Oh My!!
The Chiclette goes in for her 2 month check-up on Thursday, the one on which they bombard this little developing immune system with all kinds of nasties--all for her good, of course. Now, I have mentioned before that I exercise caution with the recommendations of doctors. I have a skepticism about--well, everything, but about medicine in particular. I am not against all vaccines, however. I am merely cautious. The vaccines I received as a child are familiar territory, though they are questioned by many, and even linked to onset of autism in some children. Measels, Mumps, Rubella, Diptheria, Pertussus, and of course, Polio, are vaccines I tend to consider "safe," though I know many would question this. At any rate, I know that the vaccines have been around for a long, long time, and have been studied, and judged to be as safe as 50+ years of research can make them. My son, to be 11 on Friday, received all of the recommended vaccines. Until the chicken pox vaccine. I had heard the cautions about vaccines even then, but thought that the benefit was worth the slight risk. Until the chicken pox vaccine.
You see, in my mind, vaccines were reserved for childhood illnesses that killed children--polio, whooping cough--and posed a genuine public health risk. But chicken pox was only a mild nuisance for most children, keeping them out of school for a week or two, which wasn't really an issue, I guess, unless there was no one available to care for them at home. So my son did not receive the chicken pox vaccine. He got two very mild cases of chicken pox from exposure to children at school who had been vaccinated recently and were "shedding" the virus. That strengthened my opinion that the vaccine was not really advisable.
When I was in the hospital after having my Doodle, I read in the papers about the vaccine against Human Papillomavirus and was instantly against the idea of vaccinating pre-teen girls for an STD. It seemed hasty, unnecessary, inadvisable. Not to mention discriminatory--to subject the girls to a vaccine, the safety of which is not entirely known, when presumably they were getting the virus from boys. Besides the fact that this was hardly an air-borne illness. Let's face it, STDs are highly preventable. So my attitude towards vaccinating my daughters with Gardasil? Over my dead body, thanks.
I relaxed my vigilance some when it came time to vaccinate my Doodle. I don't know why, but I shrugged and did a "What the heck" when it came to the chicken pox, possibly because it was easiest at the time, or perhaps because my son had felt the adverse affects of not being vaccinated in a culture where vaccination was the norm--and was infected as a consequence of this being the norm. So I figured I would skip a step or two and make it easier when she had to go to school (eventually). Of course, I did not realize that Texas allows parents to opt out of any vaccine. Evidently all one has to do is file the paperwork. So Doodle has had all of the "mandatory" vaccines, but has not had the ones that are only required if she happens to attend daycare. Since her last round, I have read more about adverse affects of Gardasil (HPV) and the vaccination for chicken pox, and it makes me wonder about all of this all over again. Not to mention that link Jen posted about the use of aborted fetal tissue to make vaccines. Great. So here I am, wondering what to do. . . again.
Because this is no easy matter. Any time we refuse medical treatment or tests, we are going against the grain. It feels like gambling, and health is nothing to gamble with. I have less of a problem when it's just me--but when it's my children and I take a risk, it feels, well, wrong. Culturally we are told that doctors are superior to just about everyone, and should not really be questioned. This changes from place to place. I have to say that people in New Orleans that I knew seemed to question medical practitioners more--even before something went wrong--than they do in this corner of Texas. I'm sure there's another corner of Texas I could name where the questioning is more intense still--at least in some circles. But that's decidedly countercultural. And so if I follow my instincts and refuse one or more of the vaccines, I feel like a bad parent. For what? For doing what I feel is right, and for gambling on the chance that my child will not contract whatever they are vaccinating against. The last time I faced a decision like this, I was deciding whether to treat my child for an enzyme deficiency that I knew she didn't have while they retested her after botching the first screening so that she and 3 other babies came out positive. She was about 3 weeks old. I won that bet, but it was agonizing.
This week, she faces several vaccines, and I am not particularly comfortable with all of the vaccines, the fact that they are given simultaneously, the fact that they will be administered even if the baby has a cold, or the fact that parental consent is generally assumed, and that these vaccines are deemed "mandatory" for my children by state boards. At two months they receive: Prevnar, DTaP, HIB, Polio, and Chicken Pox. Possibly Rotavirus also. She has not had any vaccines at this point. I refused the one in the hospital--Hep B--because, well, I don't see it as necessary, as it is transmitted sexually or through a transfusion. I can't say I know much about Prevnar or HIB. I believe both of my earlier ones had them. I feel like a cop out admitting that I haven't done the research. DTaP is familiar territory, as is the Polio. Chicken pox--well, you know how I feel about that one. And I don't feel comfortable with the Rotavirus vaccine. It sounds like a daycare vaccine to me. You know, so the workers don't get sued for not washing their hands. I just can't see that it's more crucial now than it was 2 years ago. The main goal seems to be to prevent trips to the hospital and the doctor's office. So it's an insurance company vaccine, too--it saves them money.
And you know what socialized medicine means to me? More of this shoved down our throats, with less recourse if side-effects occur, and less choice in the matter!
You see, in my mind, vaccines were reserved for childhood illnesses that killed children--polio, whooping cough--and posed a genuine public health risk. But chicken pox was only a mild nuisance for most children, keeping them out of school for a week or two, which wasn't really an issue, I guess, unless there was no one available to care for them at home. So my son did not receive the chicken pox vaccine. He got two very mild cases of chicken pox from exposure to children at school who had been vaccinated recently and were "shedding" the virus. That strengthened my opinion that the vaccine was not really advisable.
When I was in the hospital after having my Doodle, I read in the papers about the vaccine against Human Papillomavirus and was instantly against the idea of vaccinating pre-teen girls for an STD. It seemed hasty, unnecessary, inadvisable. Not to mention discriminatory--to subject the girls to a vaccine, the safety of which is not entirely known, when presumably they were getting the virus from boys. Besides the fact that this was hardly an air-borne illness. Let's face it, STDs are highly preventable. So my attitude towards vaccinating my daughters with Gardasil? Over my dead body, thanks.
I relaxed my vigilance some when it came time to vaccinate my Doodle. I don't know why, but I shrugged and did a "What the heck" when it came to the chicken pox, possibly because it was easiest at the time, or perhaps because my son had felt the adverse affects of not being vaccinated in a culture where vaccination was the norm--and was infected as a consequence of this being the norm. So I figured I would skip a step or two and make it easier when she had to go to school (eventually). Of course, I did not realize that Texas allows parents to opt out of any vaccine. Evidently all one has to do is file the paperwork. So Doodle has had all of the "mandatory" vaccines, but has not had the ones that are only required if she happens to attend daycare. Since her last round, I have read more about adverse affects of Gardasil (HPV) and the vaccination for chicken pox, and it makes me wonder about all of this all over again. Not to mention that link Jen posted about the use of aborted fetal tissue to make vaccines. Great. So here I am, wondering what to do. . . again.
Because this is no easy matter. Any time we refuse medical treatment or tests, we are going against the grain. It feels like gambling, and health is nothing to gamble with. I have less of a problem when it's just me--but when it's my children and I take a risk, it feels, well, wrong. Culturally we are told that doctors are superior to just about everyone, and should not really be questioned. This changes from place to place. I have to say that people in New Orleans that I knew seemed to question medical practitioners more--even before something went wrong--than they do in this corner of Texas. I'm sure there's another corner of Texas I could name where the questioning is more intense still--at least in some circles. But that's decidedly countercultural. And so if I follow my instincts and refuse one or more of the vaccines, I feel like a bad parent. For what? For doing what I feel is right, and for gambling on the chance that my child will not contract whatever they are vaccinating against. The last time I faced a decision like this, I was deciding whether to treat my child for an enzyme deficiency that I knew she didn't have while they retested her after botching the first screening so that she and 3 other babies came out positive. She was about 3 weeks old. I won that bet, but it was agonizing.
This week, she faces several vaccines, and I am not particularly comfortable with all of the vaccines, the fact that they are given simultaneously, the fact that they will be administered even if the baby has a cold, or the fact that parental consent is generally assumed, and that these vaccines are deemed "mandatory" for my children by state boards. At two months they receive: Prevnar, DTaP, HIB, Polio, and Chicken Pox. Possibly Rotavirus also. She has not had any vaccines at this point. I refused the one in the hospital--Hep B--because, well, I don't see it as necessary, as it is transmitted sexually or through a transfusion. I can't say I know much about Prevnar or HIB. I believe both of my earlier ones had them. I feel like a cop out admitting that I haven't done the research. DTaP is familiar territory, as is the Polio. Chicken pox--well, you know how I feel about that one. And I don't feel comfortable with the Rotavirus vaccine. It sounds like a daycare vaccine to me. You know, so the workers don't get sued for not washing their hands. I just can't see that it's more crucial now than it was 2 years ago. The main goal seems to be to prevent trips to the hospital and the doctor's office. So it's an insurance company vaccine, too--it saves them money.
And you know what socialized medicine means to me? More of this shoved down our throats, with less recourse if side-effects occur, and less choice in the matter!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Catholic Capricorns
I find it very cool that in the course of reading blogs, I have found several bloggers within, well, 0-5 years of my own age who write about things we're all interested in. As Jen writes here, it's good to be a Catholic convert and a blogger, because you have a built-in support network. I hesitate to attribute too much to the web in general in this, because on the internet--as in parenting magazines--one can find someone with a web site to support whatever weird perspective one chooses to hold, and the subject of Catholicism is no exception! But I've heard it said by those who are exploring Catholicism (and here I would include myself when I look up answers online) that they could recognize the truth when they saw--read--perhaps "felt" it: I believe this* is related to the Church being guided by the Holy Spirit. Those who sincerely seek truth will find it, however long the journey. But I digress. . .
This month, I have become increasingly aware of the number of like-minded bloggers, and readers of blogs, who have birthdays in January! (Not that I have any particular reason to note this, mind you. . .) Sarah at just another day of Catholic pondering celebrated her 31st birthday on January 10th, Jen at Et-tu, Jen? also turned 31 this month, on January 12th. One of Sarah's readers turns 31 along with me on the 17th. ('77 was a good year for Catholics or, in many of our cases, Catholics-to-be!) I know of someone else who drops by occasionally whose birthday rings in the New Year. And my son's birthday is January 18th! So happy birthday to all of the Catholic Capricorns**!
*My dissertation director's favorite thing to do in my drafts is to circle every use of the word "this" in order to force me to be more explicit about the reference, which obviously makes perfect sense in my own mind. In this case, "this" refers to the ability of prayerful, truth-seeking Catholics to recognize the truth in representations of Church teachings.
**And to all the non-Catholic Capricorns, too!!--It was just funny, you know, "Catholic Capricorn." I know, I know--too self-consciously clever. . . :P
This month, I have become increasingly aware of the number of like-minded bloggers, and readers of blogs, who have birthdays in January! (Not that I have any particular reason to note this, mind you. . .) Sarah at just another day of Catholic pondering celebrated her 31st birthday on January 10th, Jen at Et-tu, Jen? also turned 31 this month, on January 12th. One of Sarah's readers turns 31 along with me on the 17th. ('77 was a good year for Catholics or, in many of our cases, Catholics-to-be!) I know of someone else who drops by occasionally whose birthday rings in the New Year. And my son's birthday is January 18th! So happy birthday to all of the Catholic Capricorns**!
*My dissertation director's favorite thing to do in my drafts is to circle every use of the word "this" in order to force me to be more explicit about the reference, which obviously makes perfect sense in my own mind. In this case, "this" refers to the ability of prayerful, truth-seeking Catholics to recognize the truth in representations of Church teachings.
**And to all the non-Catholic Capricorns, too!!--It was just funny, you know, "Catholic Capricorn." I know, I know--too self-consciously clever. . . :P
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Housework & Me
The problem with knowing & reading so many great stay-at-home-mom bloggers is that I read more than my fair share of posts about housework. Particularly in January, it seems, as everyone is trying to get their households under control as part of New Years' Resolutions. Me--not so much. Or if I am, my definition is different: arrange to have the car daily in order to pick the soon-to-be-eleven-year-old up from school, make sure that all of the bills get paid in any given month, learn to get an infant and a toddler in the car by myself. I've been doing pretty good with two of the three--I'll leave you to guess which ones.
My standards of housework perfection are simultaneously high and low. When I read the blogs of stay-at-home moms, I think, "Gee, if this person does this stuff all day while I sit at the computer & read blogs while trying to find the 'correct mental state' for dissertation writing, how must my house compare and should I care a teensy bit more about it?" I frequently feel like I haven't done a single productive thing in a day (don't ask what my definition of "productive" is--I couldn't tell you, except when the mood hits!) I don't feel like I'm an adequate housekeeper--or houseworker (that is, "doer of housework")--though I do, paradoxically, perhaps, feel myself to be an adequate homemaker. Perhaps that's where the contrast comes in, I'm not sure. . . But home maker seems to imply an attitude and an overall effort to make a house--and a household--home like, which seems to be something beyond mere neatness or organization.
So anyone who actually pledges to stay home & take care of cleaning, etc., as a full time job has my admiration, and if I imagine myself in comparison to these individuals, I will almost certainly feel that I come up short. I think of my grandmother, who had a task for each day of the week, including weekly vacuuming and dusting (!), and whose house always seemed perfect. (Vacuuming and dusting are only to be done if guests are expected, pine needles accumulate, or dissertation writing is being put off.) I was illustrating her system of washcloth folding to my son over the weekend: the washcloths had to be folded in fourths, but all in the same direction, so that the stripe was on the top of the folded towel and parallel to the folded portion. Everyone who took a bath at her house had to wipe out the bathtub afterward to maintain a clean tub! Obviously, I will never strive to that kind of perfection. But I wonder if, in the grand scheme of things, I am that much worse than my peers, or if we merely harbor different goals. . .
In a given day, I know there are things I need to accomplish. I need to drop off my husband and son in the morning so that I have the car in order to pick them both up in the afternoon. I need to make sure that the toddler has at least 2 meals (or as close to two meals as I can manage) before picking up Brother and Daddy. I need to feed myself a reasonable amount of fairly-nutritious food. I need to give the toddler a nap. I need to bathe myself, either before the dropping off or during the napping. I need to change at least 2 toddler diapers before the nap. I need to accommodate the needs of the infant, allowing her or helping her to sleep when necessary, feeding her on demand, changing diapers as necessary. Those are the essentials! I may give some thought to dinner early in the day, but by the time supper preparation time rolls around, I may have changed my mind! Other tasks happen when they happen, and are governed by necessity: if someone has worn all of their pants this week, pants need to be washed. If the dirty clothes is overflowing the dirty clothes receptacles, multiple batches are in order (they used to be washed on the weekends, but laundry is no longer something that can be accomplished all at one time. . .). If the clutter is becoming overwhelming, straightening up is on the agenda. If bills need to be paid, I wash some more clothes--you get the idea! ;) During semesters when I teach, papers are graded before they need to be returned, and class prep is accomplished during the days on which I teach if I teach in the evening. The point being, I prioritize tasks. Often if I want to accomplish one particular thing, like cooking a pot of soup or two from my favorite Monastery Soups cookbook, making blankies or some other sewing project, or baking a king cake, for example, something else (hopefully not toddler meals) gets pushed aside. Hey! Some things can wait! I put it down to a quality of life issue. And I'm not always this laid back about it, as my husband, who does a considerable amount of "what needs to be done" can attest. But I am opposed to scheduling my day. I don't think it would make things less overwhelming or make my day seem more productive. Rather, it would emphasize what I have been unable to accomplish in an unhealthy way. I do enough of that on my own!
I am not what most would consider organized, but I have enough of my grandmother in me that I could be--really obsessively organized. (The perfectionist gene manifests itself differently in each generation. I received more than my share.) So when I organize, I really organize. When I wash clothes, my batches include darks, blue jeans, lighter mediums, darker mediums, lights, white clothes, reds, light towels, colored towels, and baby clothes. So I stay away from opportunities to organize like the child of an alcoholic avoids alcohol. 'Cause daily life doesn't have to be that perfect, especially if sanity and happiness (yours and others') are lost in the process. I scoff at visiting picture-perfect professors' houses (yeah, like those children's books would be stacked just. so. on that antique chair if any real children lived here!!) Mess is part of life, as long as it's not unsanitary.
Now, clearly I do not think of myself as a stay-at-home mom. I share a lot with stay-at-home moms. For starters, I am usually home with my children all day during the week. I do not choose to put my children into others' care while they are small. In fact, I don't like to put them into childcare until preschool--part time--at age 3, if I can arrange it. Even then, we start with 2 or 3 half days a week, and I am very selective of the facility, preferring Montessori. My son only went to kindergarten part time. And yet, although I am home a lot, I do work outside of the home. I am not currently full-time, and I hope not to be (2-3 classes is enough!!). I choose my hours as much as possible to make things convenient for me to stay with my family. But I am not a stay-at-home mom. And I wonder if this influences my perception of housework. I really don't think of housework as part of my vocation--it's just something unpleasant that needs to be done, and everyone pitches in to keep everything running fairly smoothly. And it works! There are frustrations, and a certain big brother needs to become accustomed to his share, but it does work. In a given day, I--or we--accomplish enough to be able to sit down in the evening and relax a little knowing that the tasks that will not wait are taken care of. And at the end of the day, that's what's important.
My standards of housework perfection are simultaneously high and low. When I read the blogs of stay-at-home moms, I think, "Gee, if this person does this stuff all day while I sit at the computer & read blogs while trying to find the 'correct mental state' for dissertation writing, how must my house compare and should I care a teensy bit more about it?" I frequently feel like I haven't done a single productive thing in a day (don't ask what my definition of "productive" is--I couldn't tell you, except when the mood hits!) I don't feel like I'm an adequate housekeeper--or houseworker (that is, "doer of housework")--though I do, paradoxically, perhaps, feel myself to be an adequate homemaker. Perhaps that's where the contrast comes in, I'm not sure. . . But home maker seems to imply an attitude and an overall effort to make a house--and a household--home like, which seems to be something beyond mere neatness or organization.
So anyone who actually pledges to stay home & take care of cleaning, etc., as a full time job has my admiration, and if I imagine myself in comparison to these individuals, I will almost certainly feel that I come up short. I think of my grandmother, who had a task for each day of the week, including weekly vacuuming and dusting (!), and whose house always seemed perfect. (Vacuuming and dusting are only to be done if guests are expected, pine needles accumulate, or dissertation writing is being put off.) I was illustrating her system of washcloth folding to my son over the weekend: the washcloths had to be folded in fourths, but all in the same direction, so that the stripe was on the top of the folded towel and parallel to the folded portion. Everyone who took a bath at her house had to wipe out the bathtub afterward to maintain a clean tub! Obviously, I will never strive to that kind of perfection. But I wonder if, in the grand scheme of things, I am that much worse than my peers, or if we merely harbor different goals. . .
In a given day, I know there are things I need to accomplish. I need to drop off my husband and son in the morning so that I have the car in order to pick them both up in the afternoon. I need to make sure that the toddler has at least 2 meals (or as close to two meals as I can manage) before picking up Brother and Daddy. I need to feed myself a reasonable amount of fairly-nutritious food. I need to give the toddler a nap. I need to bathe myself, either before the dropping off or during the napping. I need to change at least 2 toddler diapers before the nap. I need to accommodate the needs of the infant, allowing her or helping her to sleep when necessary, feeding her on demand, changing diapers as necessary. Those are the essentials! I may give some thought to dinner early in the day, but by the time supper preparation time rolls around, I may have changed my mind! Other tasks happen when they happen, and are governed by necessity: if someone has worn all of their pants this week, pants need to be washed. If the dirty clothes is overflowing the dirty clothes receptacles, multiple batches are in order (they used to be washed on the weekends, but laundry is no longer something that can be accomplished all at one time. . .). If the clutter is becoming overwhelming, straightening up is on the agenda. If bills need to be paid, I wash some more clothes--you get the idea! ;) During semesters when I teach, papers are graded before they need to be returned, and class prep is accomplished during the days on which I teach if I teach in the evening. The point being, I prioritize tasks. Often if I want to accomplish one particular thing, like cooking a pot of soup or two from my favorite Monastery Soups cookbook, making blankies or some other sewing project, or baking a king cake, for example, something else (hopefully not toddler meals) gets pushed aside. Hey! Some things can wait! I put it down to a quality of life issue. And I'm not always this laid back about it, as my husband, who does a considerable amount of "what needs to be done" can attest. But I am opposed to scheduling my day. I don't think it would make things less overwhelming or make my day seem more productive. Rather, it would emphasize what I have been unable to accomplish in an unhealthy way. I do enough of that on my own!
I am not what most would consider organized, but I have enough of my grandmother in me that I could be--really obsessively organized. (The perfectionist gene manifests itself differently in each generation. I received more than my share.) So when I organize, I really organize. When I wash clothes, my batches include darks, blue jeans, lighter mediums, darker mediums, lights, white clothes, reds, light towels, colored towels, and baby clothes. So I stay away from opportunities to organize like the child of an alcoholic avoids alcohol. 'Cause daily life doesn't have to be that perfect, especially if sanity and happiness (yours and others') are lost in the process. I scoff at visiting picture-perfect professors' houses (yeah, like those children's books would be stacked just. so. on that antique chair if any real children lived here!!) Mess is part of life, as long as it's not unsanitary.
Now, clearly I do not think of myself as a stay-at-home mom. I share a lot with stay-at-home moms. For starters, I am usually home with my children all day during the week. I do not choose to put my children into others' care while they are small. In fact, I don't like to put them into childcare until preschool--part time--at age 3, if I can arrange it. Even then, we start with 2 or 3 half days a week, and I am very selective of the facility, preferring Montessori. My son only went to kindergarten part time. And yet, although I am home a lot, I do work outside of the home. I am not currently full-time, and I hope not to be (2-3 classes is enough!!). I choose my hours as much as possible to make things convenient for me to stay with my family. But I am not a stay-at-home mom. And I wonder if this influences my perception of housework. I really don't think of housework as part of my vocation--it's just something unpleasant that needs to be done, and everyone pitches in to keep everything running fairly smoothly. And it works! There are frustrations, and a certain big brother needs to become accustomed to his share, but it does work. In a given day, I--or we--accomplish enough to be able to sit down in the evening and relax a little knowing that the tasks that will not wait are taken care of. And at the end of the day, that's what's important.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
First Post of the New Year
The new year arrived quietly at the Literacy-chic household. I was on the computer perusing the blogs and my mother was on the floor cuddling the toddler before she had to leave today to return to New Orleans. The 10-year-old was trying to get to sleep, while my brother was in the shower. The Chiclette was, I believe, in her bed, and I seemed to have misplaced my husband in this memory. . . We only realized that the new year had begun, bringing and end to a pleasant holiday visit, when we heard a small cacophony of fireworks and realized that the "Happy New Year"s were in order.
I have relaxed my attitude towards New Years over the past couple of years--as the family has grown and staying home & spending a normal, comfortable evening has become more attractive. I guess I'm growing into my age and my family. (hahaha) When I was an undergraduate, I had a friend in a French class whose family was Vietnamese. She told me something about Vietnamese culture and belief about the new year that I will never forget, and which made the new year more significant: that what you are doing when the old year passes into new is what you will be doing the entire year. I believe that the New Year's Eve after I heard that was not a very interesting one--I likely spent my time moping, being lonely, and generally feeling sorry for myself. All I got out of the following year were some poems--go figure. However, the year after that, as 1995 faded into 1996, I spent New Years' Eve with my husband. It was our third date. The first, which I initiated, we went to my favorite pub, which I knew (through mutual acquaintances) that he liked also, to see a Celtic Christmas performance by Danny O'Flaherty. Afterwards, we went to see the lights at Christmas (now Celebration) in the Oaks in New Orleans' City Park--again, something we both enjoyed. We talked the whole night, and even as early as that first night, he mentioned marriage (mostly conversationally, once more specifically--in a joking way), and I was surprised that I was not put off by the mention of the word, as I had been with other dates. Our second date was much less formal and came after our mutual interest was reestablished after a few weeks incommunicado during a bout of bronchitis that left me concerned about his interest since the ball was clearly in his court!! So our third date found us, on New Year's Eve, at dinner, and a movie, and roaming around New Orleans trying to find an open coffee shop(!), then on the levee watching fireworks. That New Years' did not hold significance for that year alone, but for a lifetime. So we have this to smile about every year, whatever else we might do to celebrate.
The past year has been both difficult and, in retrospect, amazing, as I might say of our married life in general--difficult because of circumstances (and, sometimes, my attitude towards them), but amazing because of love. A large part of the year was occupied by a emotionally and physically exhausting pregnancy, the anxieties of which I have chronicled here. I have had toddler trials and ten-year old trials, and I believe that I am learning to learn in a new way from God's Grace and the wonders of my children. In addition to my own wonderful birth and amazing daughter, I have been more or less involved in the pregnancies of several friends--and for the first time in my life I have friends with whom I can share motherhood. I have also found friends with whom I share faith--and Faith--and I have had the almost surreal experience of making friends online--including getting to know more closely or keep up with people I knew only in passing, or could not keep in touch with easily. The year has seen a number of spiritual obstacles, which I suppose are natural. Someone should tell new converts that the euphoria of conversion is difficult to sustain and to live up to. This may be for the best, or we would all abandon our families to pray all day and night--and then when would we blog? ;) But in the challenges of my growing family, I have found time for meditation and prayer--as I am rocking my toddler. So while the growth may not always have been apparent, I enter 2008 with the hope that the insights I have gained from difficulties encountered will blossom in the new year. Although it feels like the dissertation has remained pretty much the same, I realize that I finished revising 2 chapters in the spring and almost completely rewrote the introduction from only the proposal, which was not yet fully realized, and wrote a new chapter this fall that is almost complete. I have ideas for the conclusion, and have begun the second-to-last chapter. It sounds like a lot when I think about the finished product rather than the process. In spite of the exhaustion of the pregnancy, I taught 2 classes, one in the heat of the summer, and one in the last months of pregnancy, showing (to myself if not to others) that it can, indeed, be done. Our family has a new life in our midst, and a new home in which to nurture her. Newness speaks of hope, and it is with prayerful hope--especially for my mother and my grandmother, and my aunt who has cancer not likely to be cured--that I greet the new year. I pray that I can remember this side of difficulties as I face them in 2008.
My hopes for the new year include being able to maintain my family's finances, finishing the dissertation, finding employment that allows me to keep my baby-friendly schedule. I hope to balance my time with my children, remembering that even self-sufficient ten-year-olds need their parents' time and attention, to keep a clear path to walk through the apartment at all times, and to cook meals at home consistently. I want to renew my spirituality, whether that means finding a path to spirituality at home or deepening my connection with God through the sacraments or C/church more generally. I am looking forward to being able to schedule our daughter's baptism--hopefully for this month. I want to renew my personal devotion to the Eucharist in particular, and to learn what that means exactly!
A side note: I find myself keeping baby names in reserve. Has this birth made me more "open to life" than I had been? Do I understand that better now? I do think that 2008 will be a pregnancy-free year, but after that, who knows?
That's as close to New Years' resolutions as I will get. . . I am surprised at how much I have learned, and how blessed I feel looking back, though it did not always seem so at the time. Wishing you all blessings and all of the hope that a new year implies!
~Literacy-chic
I have relaxed my attitude towards New Years over the past couple of years--as the family has grown and staying home & spending a normal, comfortable evening has become more attractive. I guess I'm growing into my age and my family. (hahaha) When I was an undergraduate, I had a friend in a French class whose family was Vietnamese. She told me something about Vietnamese culture and belief about the new year that I will never forget, and which made the new year more significant: that what you are doing when the old year passes into new is what you will be doing the entire year. I believe that the New Year's Eve after I heard that was not a very interesting one--I likely spent my time moping, being lonely, and generally feeling sorry for myself. All I got out of the following year were some poems--go figure. However, the year after that, as 1995 faded into 1996, I spent New Years' Eve with my husband. It was our third date. The first, which I initiated, we went to my favorite pub, which I knew (through mutual acquaintances) that he liked also, to see a Celtic Christmas performance by Danny O'Flaherty. Afterwards, we went to see the lights at Christmas (now Celebration) in the Oaks in New Orleans' City Park--again, something we both enjoyed. We talked the whole night, and even as early as that first night, he mentioned marriage (mostly conversationally, once more specifically--in a joking way), and I was surprised that I was not put off by the mention of the word, as I had been with other dates. Our second date was much less formal and came after our mutual interest was reestablished after a few weeks incommunicado during a bout of bronchitis that left me concerned about his interest since the ball was clearly in his court!! So our third date found us, on New Year's Eve, at dinner, and a movie, and roaming around New Orleans trying to find an open coffee shop(!), then on the levee watching fireworks. That New Years' did not hold significance for that year alone, but for a lifetime. So we have this to smile about every year, whatever else we might do to celebrate.
The past year has been both difficult and, in retrospect, amazing, as I might say of our married life in general--difficult because of circumstances (and, sometimes, my attitude towards them), but amazing because of love. A large part of the year was occupied by a emotionally and physically exhausting pregnancy, the anxieties of which I have chronicled here. I have had toddler trials and ten-year old trials, and I believe that I am learning to learn in a new way from God's Grace and the wonders of my children. In addition to my own wonderful birth and amazing daughter, I have been more or less involved in the pregnancies of several friends--and for the first time in my life I have friends with whom I can share motherhood. I have also found friends with whom I share faith--and Faith--and I have had the almost surreal experience of making friends online--including getting to know more closely or keep up with people I knew only in passing, or could not keep in touch with easily. The year has seen a number of spiritual obstacles, which I suppose are natural. Someone should tell new converts that the euphoria of conversion is difficult to sustain and to live up to. This may be for the best, or we would all abandon our families to pray all day and night--and then when would we blog? ;) But in the challenges of my growing family, I have found time for meditation and prayer--as I am rocking my toddler. So while the growth may not always have been apparent, I enter 2008 with the hope that the insights I have gained from difficulties encountered will blossom in the new year. Although it feels like the dissertation has remained pretty much the same, I realize that I finished revising 2 chapters in the spring and almost completely rewrote the introduction from only the proposal, which was not yet fully realized, and wrote a new chapter this fall that is almost complete. I have ideas for the conclusion, and have begun the second-to-last chapter. It sounds like a lot when I think about the finished product rather than the process. In spite of the exhaustion of the pregnancy, I taught 2 classes, one in the heat of the summer, and one in the last months of pregnancy, showing (to myself if not to others) that it can, indeed, be done. Our family has a new life in our midst, and a new home in which to nurture her. Newness speaks of hope, and it is with prayerful hope--especially for my mother and my grandmother, and my aunt who has cancer not likely to be cured--that I greet the new year. I pray that I can remember this side of difficulties as I face them in 2008.
My hopes for the new year include being able to maintain my family's finances, finishing the dissertation, finding employment that allows me to keep my baby-friendly schedule. I hope to balance my time with my children, remembering that even self-sufficient ten-year-olds need their parents' time and attention, to keep a clear path to walk through the apartment at all times, and to cook meals at home consistently. I want to renew my spirituality, whether that means finding a path to spirituality at home or deepening my connection with God through the sacraments or C/church more generally. I am looking forward to being able to schedule our daughter's baptism--hopefully for this month. I want to renew my personal devotion to the Eucharist in particular, and to learn what that means exactly!
A side note: I find myself keeping baby names in reserve. Has this birth made me more "open to life" than I had been? Do I understand that better now? I do think that 2008 will be a pregnancy-free year, but after that, who knows?
That's as close to New Years' resolutions as I will get. . . I am surprised at how much I have learned, and how blessed I feel looking back, though it did not always seem so at the time. Wishing you all blessings and all of the hope that a new year implies!
~Literacy-chic
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Not so Bad After All. . .
FYI--Things have been going well on the 10-year old front through the weekend. I believe there might have been some misunderstanding and embarrassment making the disrespect seem worse than it was. So when my mother departs, we will discuss things further, but a lesser punishment (or an earlier reprieve) may be in order. However, the threat of present confiscation has produced a more conscientious child. Maybe he & I are okay after all! However, there have been lessons learned all around about how your words and actions influence how you are perceived as a person. And about balancing honesty with tact, for want of a better word!
Friday, December 28, 2007
Pre-Teen Discipline Strategies. . .
I've mentioned before that I've been having ten-year old trouble (and toddler trouble. . . in fact, I seem always to be complaining about something). It is escalating into almost 11-year old trouble. Not even the pre-Christmas threats seemed to make a temporary impression. Admittedly, we have had some special circumstances over the past several weeks. My brother has been staying with us until my mom could come back up from Louisiana, and they are 2 1/2 years apart. My brother also has rather a challenging personality. So they did tire of each other's company. But my son has adopted the attitude that he is better than everyone everywhere--an attitude he likely gets from his parents, both from our example and from messages we have given him. He is unkind to his sister, his uncle, and disrespectful to his parents and (especially) to my mother. This has me perplexed. I am a lot of things, but I always show respect to my mother and family and others' parents in particular. Basically, I am respectful to those whom I consider deserving of that respect, or to whom I am expected to show respect. I know, I've just incriminated myself. But I have always tried to teach him to be respectful. I have also always considered him very empathetic. Not so. In fact, he has very little regard for others' feelings, especially his sister's and my mother's. Now, my own siblings are very disrespectful towards my mother, but I have never been. I have, however, been honest--too honest, I now believe--with my critiques of teachers in particular. I felt like I should be honest with him about what I felt were their shortcomings so that he did not feel like teachers were always right. I have, in short, created a monster, and it is coming back to bite me. Perhaps I was too young to know the consequences of these child-rearing choices and attitudes towards others, though my intentions were good--I have mellowed in the past few years in particular, especially since becoming Catholic. But I am left with a problem child who can please when it suits him and he needs to put on a show--or at least that's how I feel, and what my mother thinks. There are certainly those who tell me that he is a good child. I have always wanted to believe that--and have been successful. After all, I have been defending his existence in my mind since he was conceived. But I am no longer sure. Yesterday, he acted and spoke to my mother--currently my house guest--in a way that suggested that he had an authority in my house that was above hers. And then, as damage control, he gave me a significantly slanted version of the story. In the process, he has lost all of his Christmas gifts, including his brand-new iPod Nano, his one big present. Christmas Eve I was lamenting his behavior and feeling unenthusiastic about giving him presents. He has disappointed me greatly, but my standards are high--not impossibly so, but high. I don't expect him to be any more than I was at his age: helpful, respectful, responsible, generous. I spent $61 on a fundraiser for orchestra in November so that he could get a free candle. I thought he would give it as a present. He did not. Heavily pregnant, I made a pair of pants for his Halloween costume in an afternoon. He expressed no gratitude. A few months ago, I was able to buy the one thing he wanted most for Christmas--a Nintendo Wii. I bought one on the spot when I happened upon them at Target. I kept it overnight and returned it the next morning. There were many reasons for the return--cost, not wanting fights over the television, thinking the living room was too small, dreading the toddler's frustrated attempts to play, not wanting to feed the obsession. But had he been better behaved these past few months, most of those things would have been overlooked. See? Santa doesn't give naughty children the same consideration. That iPod was a luxury, though, and I debated whether it was appropriate. It was at least more "serious."
I hate posting things like this, really. Such posts leave out the big picture. Unfortunately, the bad attitude has clouded my perception of a host of positives, including his near straight-A grades, his loving moments (which are only moments, and are select), and his occasional willing help (which is too infrequent), much as his arrogance about his cello-performance clouds (in my mind) his accomplishments (the line between pride and arrogance is painfully thin). I hope that all who read this, in particular the bloggers we will soon meet, do not judge him (or me) too harshly. I only post this now because of my proposed resolution. . .
Because this was a serious offense, we debated about punishment. Taking away treasured things or privileges for a set period of time (or indefinitely) is ineffective--he simply waits out the punishment with little attempt at reform. Guilt is temporarily effective. I hate to use the Church and Sacraments as a child-rearing crutch, though I was thinking that weekly confessions might not be out of order. What else is there? Well, I don't like the rhetorical strategy of saying, "I prayed for an answer," but, well, I did. I had already decided to take away the Christmas gifts, but for how long? And what would be accomplished besides causing hurt and resentment? I found a web page that suggested rewards for positive behavior. It sparked an idea: He will earn the return of the gifts--slowly, through acts of kindness, generosity, respect, responsibility, and reparation. I plan to make a chart listing the items and how many stars will be required to earn an item. At the end of the day, his efforts will be analyzed collectively, and stars may (or may not) be awarded. I do not anticipate a star every day. In this way, the items will be recovered through his own efforts, and the behavior might become habitual. Hopefully, the acts will be genuine--a real "turning away." Anyway, that is my theory. Any thoughts?
I hate posting things like this, really. Such posts leave out the big picture. Unfortunately, the bad attitude has clouded my perception of a host of positives, including his near straight-A grades, his loving moments (which are only moments, and are select), and his occasional willing help (which is too infrequent), much as his arrogance about his cello-performance clouds (in my mind) his accomplishments (the line between pride and arrogance is painfully thin). I hope that all who read this, in particular the bloggers we will soon meet, do not judge him (or me) too harshly. I only post this now because of my proposed resolution. . .
Because this was a serious offense, we debated about punishment. Taking away treasured things or privileges for a set period of time (or indefinitely) is ineffective--he simply waits out the punishment with little attempt at reform. Guilt is temporarily effective. I hate to use the Church and Sacraments as a child-rearing crutch, though I was thinking that weekly confessions might not be out of order. What else is there? Well, I don't like the rhetorical strategy of saying, "I prayed for an answer," but, well, I did. I had already decided to take away the Christmas gifts, but for how long? And what would be accomplished besides causing hurt and resentment? I found a web page that suggested rewards for positive behavior. It sparked an idea: He will earn the return of the gifts--slowly, through acts of kindness, generosity, respect, responsibility, and reparation. I plan to make a chart listing the items and how many stars will be required to earn an item. At the end of the day, his efforts will be analyzed collectively, and stars may (or may not) be awarded. I do not anticipate a star every day. In this way, the items will be recovered through his own efforts, and the behavior might become habitual. Hopefully, the acts will be genuine--a real "turning away." Anyway, that is my theory. Any thoughts?
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Family Dynamics
. . . are a complete mystery to me. And I sometimes wonder if they are influenced by heredity. Birth order has always been interesting to me as well. And I don't have to tell anyone that I was concerned about my own family dynamic--so far, so good, but time will tell. . . But as the oldest of 6 children, and the only one from a first marriage, I have found myself feeling, well, different the older we all get. I am also the only one married and with children, and I was born just about 6 years before my oldest sister, and 17 years before my youngest brother. So I have always been the responsible sister, not the fun sister. This is more awkward since I'm not taking care of everyone (well, maybe I took care of my 13-year-old brother for a little while recently, but it feels different since I'm not a teenager myself anymore. . .), and now that they are all old enough to "go out" and "hang out." *sigh*
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Merry Christmas!
I'm 33 minutes late (sort of) and severely sleep deprived, but I wanted to wish everyone a happy and peaceful Christmas throughout the Christmas season! Wishing blessings to you & your families!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The Secret of the Universe
Evidently, it's getting up early. Who knew? Legions of morning people, apparently. So that's going to have to be the routine. :P
I am an evening person. My most productive hours for writing have traditionally been between 11 P.M. and 2 A.M. Even if I get up early, I can't go to bed before 11:30. In the mornings when my toddler was smaller, I would drop my husband off at work (one car) for somewhere between 8 and 8:30 (which required leaving the house between 7:45 and 8:15), then return home (most mornings) and climb in bed with her & snuggle. This was also her favorite time to nurse until after she was a year. The pattern (minus the nursing) remained constant while I was pregnant, and since the baby was born, I have not really had to get up; I merely relinquished the car. Since I allowed my permit to lapse, however, parking has been rather pricey for my husband, and we can't really afford that. Sleeping in is a hard habit to break. And yet. . .
This morning, I wasn't necessarily planning to get up & take the car. Yesterday I was planning on it, but my alarm clock (aka husband) didn't know the plan. I was also exhausted from a busy day on Tuesday. But this morning, Chiclette woke up to eat, and Doodle, who was in our bed after a Post-Nemo Traumatic Stress Nightmare (we have to be very careful what she watches or she wakes up yelling "Help! Help! Momma! Daddy!"--very sad) woke up, too. So I figured, what the heck? I knew it would be a challenge if Doodle fell asleep on the way home to get both babies in the house from the car, but I did it! Carrying a 35 lb. or so toddler with an infant car seat over one's arm is not the easiest thing in the word, but it is doable! That is something I was dreading, frankly. But I now realize that I can get both children in and out of the car by myself under various conditions. (Small triumphs)
So I got home with both babies asleep, put Doodle in her bed, took a bath, ate a PB & J, sorted clothes, started a batch, pinned a blanket front to the fleece back & stitched around the perimeter, and sewed two 4-square rows of a Christmas blanket (adult sized) that I'm making--all before Doodle & Chiclette woke up at around 10 A.M. Yay!! Now I'm ready for a nap. :P I can see this being a good time to work on the dissertation. I don't do intellectual activity well in the mornings, but that's what Limited Edition bottled Peppermint Mocha Frappuccinos (from SAM'S Club) are for!
So there you go. Most of you caught on to the Secret of the Universe before I did, but I generally have to be dragged kicking & screaming into these things. I'm still not completely happy about this, but at least Chiclette sleeps from 6-8 hours in a typical night! (So yes, it is possible for breast fed babies. She'll make up for it when she hits a year, I'm sure.)
Incidently, the Secret of the Universe for Toddlers is different, and consists of two words said often in rapid succession: "NO! MINE!!"
I am an evening person. My most productive hours for writing have traditionally been between 11 P.M. and 2 A.M. Even if I get up early, I can't go to bed before 11:30. In the mornings when my toddler was smaller, I would drop my husband off at work (one car) for somewhere between 8 and 8:30 (which required leaving the house between 7:45 and 8:15), then return home (most mornings) and climb in bed with her & snuggle. This was also her favorite time to nurse until after she was a year. The pattern (minus the nursing) remained constant while I was pregnant, and since the baby was born, I have not really had to get up; I merely relinquished the car. Since I allowed my permit to lapse, however, parking has been rather pricey for my husband, and we can't really afford that. Sleeping in is a hard habit to break. And yet. . .
This morning, I wasn't necessarily planning to get up & take the car. Yesterday I was planning on it, but my alarm clock (aka husband) didn't know the plan. I was also exhausted from a busy day on Tuesday. But this morning, Chiclette woke up to eat, and Doodle, who was in our bed after a Post-Nemo Traumatic Stress Nightmare (we have to be very careful what she watches or she wakes up yelling "Help! Help! Momma! Daddy!"--very sad) woke up, too. So I figured, what the heck? I knew it would be a challenge if Doodle fell asleep on the way home to get both babies in the house from the car, but I did it! Carrying a 35 lb. or so toddler with an infant car seat over one's arm is not the easiest thing in the word, but it is doable! That is something I was dreading, frankly. But I now realize that I can get both children in and out of the car by myself under various conditions. (Small triumphs)
So I got home with both babies asleep, put Doodle in her bed, took a bath, ate a PB & J, sorted clothes, started a batch, pinned a blanket front to the fleece back & stitched around the perimeter, and sewed two 4-square rows of a Christmas blanket (adult sized) that I'm making--all before Doodle & Chiclette woke up at around 10 A.M. Yay!! Now I'm ready for a nap. :P I can see this being a good time to work on the dissertation. I don't do intellectual activity well in the mornings, but that's what Limited Edition bottled Peppermint Mocha Frappuccinos (from SAM'S Club) are for!
So there you go. Most of you caught on to the Secret of the Universe before I did, but I generally have to be dragged kicking & screaming into these things. I'm still not completely happy about this, but at least Chiclette sleeps from 6-8 hours in a typical night! (So yes, it is possible for breast fed babies. She'll make up for it when she hits a year, I'm sure.)
Incidently, the Secret of the Universe for Toddlers is different, and consists of two words said often in rapid succession: "NO! MINE!!"
Monday, December 17, 2007
It's Getting Better All the Time. . .
Apologies if I've been lacking in the inspired post category lately. I did want to catch everyone (who is interested) up on the various dilemmas I've posted about. So far, no miraculous insights into toddler management, but incidents are becoming less frequent. She sometimes lets Daddy rock her for a nap and at bedtime, I wait until Chiclette has nursed for a good while to bring Doodle back to be rocked. Chiclette has reached a stage where she no longer nurses every 20 minutes or so and can be comforted by other means. She is even getting used to a pacifier (though we only use it occasionally). She is very easy to console. So for the 40 min or so it takes to get Doodle to go to sleep (she likes to be rocked & cuddled), Chiclette is generally content. (Yay!)
I also wanted to let everyone know that my mom is doing better, too. Circumstances are improving. She came to visit in October, then went back home a week or two before Chiclette arrived. She left, and left my brother (the 13-year-old) to stay with my sister. He has been with us for the past few weeks. Though the house is still without plumbing (no bathing, no flushing toilets--very bad) and in rather sad shape (she is confined to two rooms, the roof leaks badly in many places), she has hope of making progress towards resolving the legal issues that are currently preventing her from accessing the insurance money and money from The Road Home. The Road Home people have been helpful with resolving legal issues. In addition, though she lost her job with Starbucks job because of missed work due to health issues and from staying out of town too long to bail my sister out of an unfortunate roommate situation, it was on good terms, the health issues seem to have improved some, and other work has surfaced. Specifically, she has been working for and with a photographer friend on shoots, printing, office work. . . all manner of jobs. She is paid well, sometimes in advance, allowing her her to catch up on house notes. Hours are not fixed. It is pretty much ideal. In addition, she has been making and selling jewelry--an ongoing business for several years now that has been doing well recently, as she has added new pieces, including religious themed items. She has unfortunately had some reminders that New Orleans is even less safe than before. . . Today, for example, someone shot at her from the levee and hit the car she was driving, just inches from the window. But overall, things seem to be improving, though still far from ideal. I wanted to take some time to thank those who wished her well and sent prayers. Thank you!!
I also wanted to let everyone know that my mom is doing better, too. Circumstances are improving. She came to visit in October, then went back home a week or two before Chiclette arrived. She left, and left my brother (the 13-year-old) to stay with my sister. He has been with us for the past few weeks. Though the house is still without plumbing (no bathing, no flushing toilets--very bad) and in rather sad shape (she is confined to two rooms, the roof leaks badly in many places), she has hope of making progress towards resolving the legal issues that are currently preventing her from accessing the insurance money and money from The Road Home. The Road Home people have been helpful with resolving legal issues. In addition, though she lost her job with Starbucks job because of missed work due to health issues and from staying out of town too long to bail my sister out of an unfortunate roommate situation, it was on good terms, the health issues seem to have improved some, and other work has surfaced. Specifically, she has been working for and with a photographer friend on shoots, printing, office work. . . all manner of jobs. She is paid well, sometimes in advance, allowing her her to catch up on house notes. Hours are not fixed. It is pretty much ideal. In addition, she has been making and selling jewelry--an ongoing business for several years now that has been doing well recently, as she has added new pieces, including religious themed items. She has unfortunately had some reminders that New Orleans is even less safe than before. . . Today, for example, someone shot at her from the levee and hit the car she was driving, just inches from the window. But overall, things seem to be improving, though still far from ideal. I wanted to take some time to thank those who wished her well and sent prayers. Thank you!!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Good News for Next Semester! and Thoughts on Answered Prayers...
I found out yesterday that because one of the goals for the department is to lower writing courses (Intro to Lit included) to only 21 students, and because this involves making sure all open sections are as full as possible, my course has been canceled. Instead of teaching, I was offered a position working in an administrative office with revisions to Intro to Lit. Yay!! Not only do I enjoy the course design aspect of teaching, I will be able to do most of my work from home (a mixed blessing, but more good than not), with as little as 2 hours/week in the office.
I'm not very good at waxing poetic about blessings and answered prayers, mainly because I've always kind of felt that it was arrogant to suggest that something happened as a result of prayer. Some people do manage to make it a matter of arrogance; they were just so darned holy that everything they asked for--the promotion, the new car, the great sale on designer shoes--was provided by God specifically for them. I met a lot of these people at various churches I attended when I was young, and it left a bad impression. I developed the idea that humility (though I didn't have a name for it) involved thinking oneself too small to merit such favors. I wasn't thinking about that one lost sheep, I guess. That insecurity of faith (which I guess is the best way to characterize it) is a hard habit to break. I also don't want to fall into what I still see is a kind of arrogance. And yet I can't deny that this is an answer to my prayers of late. I just didn't know how I was going to make it work--the teaching, the family. . . My prayers have been of the "You have given me my family, and allowed me to pursue this career. Show me what you have in store for me--how I am to make this work, or what my alternatives are. . ." variety. Well, this certainly feels like an answer to that. At times, as well, my prayers have focused more specifically on what next semester would hold. This is a subtle reminder for me to trust in God, a topic I have been reading about on Et-Tu, Jen? She speaks directly to my persistent anxiety.
What I wonder is, after being in the habit of relying solely on oneself for so long, how even to contemplate turning it all over to God. Though I called myself a Christian (of sorts) for most of my life, this was a concept that was alien to me. Now I find I am called to that kind of trust. I think this is more characteristically Catholic than Protestant, especially as family is concerned (though not exclusively). I sense a long journey ahead, but lessons like this one certainly ease the way!
I'm not very good at waxing poetic about blessings and answered prayers, mainly because I've always kind of felt that it was arrogant to suggest that something happened as a result of prayer. Some people do manage to make it a matter of arrogance; they were just so darned holy that everything they asked for--the promotion, the new car, the great sale on designer shoes--was provided by God specifically for them. I met a lot of these people at various churches I attended when I was young, and it left a bad impression. I developed the idea that humility (though I didn't have a name for it) involved thinking oneself too small to merit such favors. I wasn't thinking about that one lost sheep, I guess. That insecurity of faith (which I guess is the best way to characterize it) is a hard habit to break. I also don't want to fall into what I still see is a kind of arrogance. And yet I can't deny that this is an answer to my prayers of late. I just didn't know how I was going to make it work--the teaching, the family. . . My prayers have been of the "You have given me my family, and allowed me to pursue this career. Show me what you have in store for me--how I am to make this work, or what my alternatives are. . ." variety. Well, this certainly feels like an answer to that. At times, as well, my prayers have focused more specifically on what next semester would hold. This is a subtle reminder for me to trust in God, a topic I have been reading about on Et-Tu, Jen? She speaks directly to my persistent anxiety.
What I wonder is, after being in the habit of relying solely on oneself for so long, how even to contemplate turning it all over to God. Though I called myself a Christian (of sorts) for most of my life, this was a concept that was alien to me. Now I find I am called to that kind of trust. I think this is more characteristically Catholic than Protestant, especially as family is concerned (though not exclusively). I sense a long journey ahead, but lessons like this one certainly ease the way!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Some things I do like about Christmas trees. . .
Just so that no one thinks I'm a total stick-in-the-mud. . .
1) The finished product
2) The star my husband ordered for us the first year we were married
3) Ornaments my son made every year as presents at his Montessori school (we have 3 similar to this one and a felt gingerbread face pillow he made in kindergarten!)
4) Snowflakes crocheted by my grandmother
(note the chili pepper in the upper part of the previous frame--we collect chili pepper ornaments!)
5) Candid photo opportunities!
1) The finished product
2) The star my husband ordered for us the first year we were married
3) Ornaments my son made every year as presents at his Montessori school (we have 3 similar to this one and a felt gingerbread face pillow he made in kindergarten!)
4) Snowflakes crocheted by my grandmother
(note the chili pepper in the upper part of the previous frame--we collect chili pepper ornaments!)
5) Candid photo opportunities!
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Why I don't like Christmas trees
1) Choosing the perfect one
2) Wires
3) Bare spots
4) Perfectionism (mine or other peoples')
5) Fragile ornaments
6) Already overcrowded apartments
7) Tree stands
8) Frustration (mine or other peoples')
9) Undecorating
10) $$$$$
2) Wires
3) Bare spots
4) Perfectionism (mine or other peoples')
5) Fragile ornaments
6) Already overcrowded apartments
7) Tree stands
8) Frustration (mine or other peoples')
9) Undecorating
10) $$$$$
Friday, December 7, 2007
Toddler Trauma, or Toddler Testing??
For the past few weeks, my toddler, whom we might call "Doodlebug" or "Doodle" has developed a new preference at bedtime. While I was pregnant, my husband almost always rocked her to sleep at night, especially during the latter months. If she expressed a preference for me, it was rare, and if I did not comply, she was generally not too worked up about it. This has changed, however. Instead, she wants me to rock her to sleep every night, on pain of wails, sobs, and generally uncontrollable crying. The problem? Without fail, the Moosette wakes up crying, needing to be fed or needing to be pacified in a way that only Momma can, just as Big Sister-doodle is settling into Momma's lap. Momma has dealt with this in a couple of different ways. A couple of times, Moosette & Doodle have snuggled into Momma's lap together, which Big Sister doesn't mind at all, but this poses a problem when little sister wants to nurse--the logistics are all wrong. Also, the Moosette has grown in the past couple of weeks, and Doodle is much more likely to get feet in her face than she was initially, which doesn't bother her, but isn't conducive to sleep, either! Letting Moosette cry a bit isn't an option, because Doodle takes too long to go to sleep. And again, the crying Moosette keeps Big Sister awake, either from concern or noise. Handing Doodle off to Daddy is a common "solution," but generally results in several minutes of very sad, very loud crying. This does nothing for Daddy's ego. She may be moving toward just lying in her bed to sleep at naptime, but not at night. The way I see it, one of the girls feels brushed aside whatever I do. I'm contemplating letting Moosette take a bottle while Sister is rocked, at least a couple of nights a week, or putting Doodle to bed as soon as Moosette eats, whenever that may be. Of course, Moosette likes marathon nursing sessions at night, too.
Incidently, the problem is worse when Doodle has had a shorter-than-usual nap. . .
Now, this could be simple toddler manipulation, but I doubt it. Ever since I came back from the hospital (where I stayed 2 nights while Moosette was observed for possible infection--a precaution), Doodle has awakened in the night crying for me. She had nightmares in the past, but did not specifically call out "Momma" or "Mommy." So I'm wondering if she latches on to me at night because she's afraid of my leaving in the night again. My other thought is that, while she is very patient and understanding when I care for the baby throughout the day, she sees bedtime and naptime as two times when I should be hers unconditionally. She has motioned for me to give the baby to Daddy (tried to move her there!) and tonight, when I walked in to the bedroom to relieve Daddy of screaming toddler duty, she looked in my arms and said with dismay, "A Baby!" (Other times she will wake up from her nap and look in the baby's bed and say, "Where's baby?" with equal distress, fearing that the baby is missing if she is not there, especially if the baby is crying.) It certainly makes sense that she would want Momma & Doodle time. It is an emotionally draining challenge that ends the day in the Literacy-chic household.
Incidently, the problem is worse when Doodle has had a shorter-than-usual nap. . .
Now, this could be simple toddler manipulation, but I doubt it. Ever since I came back from the hospital (where I stayed 2 nights while Moosette was observed for possible infection--a precaution), Doodle has awakened in the night crying for me. She had nightmares in the past, but did not specifically call out "Momma" or "Mommy." So I'm wondering if she latches on to me at night because she's afraid of my leaving in the night again. My other thought is that, while she is very patient and understanding when I care for the baby throughout the day, she sees bedtime and naptime as two times when I should be hers unconditionally. She has motioned for me to give the baby to Daddy (tried to move her there!) and tonight, when I walked in to the bedroom to relieve Daddy of screaming toddler duty, she looked in my arms and said with dismay, "A Baby!" (Other times she will wake up from her nap and look in the baby's bed and say, "Where's baby?" with equal distress, fearing that the baby is missing if she is not there, especially if the baby is crying.) It certainly makes sense that she would want Momma & Doodle time. It is an emotionally draining challenge that ends the day in the Literacy-chic household.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Babies In and Out of the Womb
I read the Q & A below (only the beginning of the answer) on the web page for Mothering Magazine, here. I find that it raises some interesting points about the personhood of the infant in the womb--or, rather, it indicates a latent assumption that the infant in the womb is indeed a person, something that much pregnancy literature does--while at the same time suggesting that the infant outside of the womb is still so closely linked to the mother that they remain a single unity--suggesting a continuity with the existence in the womb. This is the language of carrying and bearing children, but there are actual pieces of evidence alluded to (though not cited) that support this claim. They can be contradicted, of course, with and without evidence, but they ring so true! I often wonder how these things can be denied.
When I was in the hospital (a Catholic hospital run by a religious order) and my husband and baby were in the room, too, a member of the order entered my room unannounced, asking if we were Mr. and Mrs. Hernandez. We were not. So she went over to the little clear bassinet and admired the baby, giving her a blessing, and then said with a sigh that these little ones are so precious, it is hard to imagine that anyone could want to harm or kill them. I wondered what specifically was on her mind. It was kind of a surreal moment, and comes back to me sometimes, especially when I read horrible news stories about children being killed by their parents, or when I read things like this that stress the connection between mother and unborn/newborn child (do note how the author of the response gently corrects the term "abandoned"):
I have two questions that may be seen as sides of the same coin: how does being abandoned as an infant effect the emotional growth and stability of a person? What are the lasting repercussions on a single mother, or father, who chose not to raise their child, and hence, gave their baby away?
When I was in the hospital (a Catholic hospital run by a religious order) and my husband and baby were in the room, too, a member of the order entered my room unannounced, asking if we were Mr. and Mrs. Hernandez. We were not. So she went over to the little clear bassinet and admired the baby, giving her a blessing, and then said with a sigh that these little ones are so precious, it is hard to imagine that anyone could want to harm or kill them. I wondered what specifically was on her mind. It was kind of a surreal moment, and comes back to me sometimes, especially when I read horrible news stories about children being killed by their parents, or when I read things like this that stress the connection between mother and unborn/newborn child (do note how the author of the response gently corrects the term "abandoned"):
I have two questions that may be seen as sides of the same coin: how does being abandoned as an infant effect the emotional growth and stability of a person? What are the lasting repercussions on a single mother, or father, who chose not to raise their child, and hence, gave their baby away?
When you say "abandoned," I'm going to assume that you mean, "How does it affect an infant to be permanently separated from his biological mother?" (Usually in this situation the infant isn't technically "abandoned"—as in the fairy tales of babies left alone in the woods—but has other caring adults around to care for him.) Certainly a newborn already has a potent connection to his birth mother at birth; we know this from lots of research into fetal learning, etc. And there is an actual biological process already in place for laying down important circuitry in the brain of the baby (and of the mother, too!) in the hours and days following birth. So when this process is disrupted by separation (for adoption, but even for the shorter periods virtually mandated by standard hospital protocol, to "clean the baby up," and do all the other unnecessary things like pricking, prodding and testing), the baby does suffer at a psycho-biological level (as does the mother.) The cascade of pleasure hormones (including oxytocin, the "hormone of love") that nature designed to make mom and baby enraptured with each other when they remain in skin-to-skin contact in the hours following birth may also play an important part in establishing lifelong "set-points" for feeling pleasure, satisfaction, and contentment. But when separated, and this does not occur, levels of cortisol (stress hormone) rise in the baby's blood, which—depending upon variables such as the infant's temperament and upon any protective factors in the baby's environment—can impact the level of growth hormone and even negatively impact immune function. (As an adopted infant, I contracted pneumonia as a six-month-old—definitely not normal!!) This kind of cascade of stress hormones (especially when it is happening instead of the cascade of pleasure hormones) is suspected to contribute to the baby growing up with a decreased tolerance for stress. And though there may be other caring adults around, we do know that newborns know who their biological mothers are, and who they are not—via pheromones, voice quality, heartbeat, "vibe"—and it is their mothers they want, and need. In fact, from the newborn's perspective, he or she is not differentiated from the mother: they are a mother/baby dyad, at the levels of neurobiology and physiology—a single unit. So for a baby to be made prematurely "an individual" in his or her earliest hours, days or even months does indeed present a challenge for that individual's future growth and stability.
What do you think?
(Read the whole answer, it's well worth it!)Saturday, December 1, 2007
Status Update with Random Thoughts
Things have been going well lately, but though I've wanted to sit down & blog (or at least answer comments from previous posts!) I can't seem to manage a whole post. I've got some partial ones saved, but that doesn't count. In fact, a bulleted list of random thoughts about things that have happened lately is more my speed right now, so here goes. . .
- A thought to add to Sarah's 40 reasons to have kids: Holidays are more fun when you have young children whose innocent delight reminds you of how to enjoy the trappings of the holiday!
- I have finally had success with a baby carrier! A pouch sling that I made from the directions on this web site. So now I want to make more for myself!!
- Things have been going much more smoothly with the toddler. She seems better able to understand what we want, and we are more able to communicate to her. Perhaps a breakthrough? (She's so sweet, I hate to sound as if she's trouble, and I hate to see her cry in anger, hurt, or frustration.) :(
- Newborn screenings are a pain. My baby has tested positive at the 2 week screening for a rare enzyme deficiency that only occurs in 1/60,000 infants. Yeah. She tested positive--along with 3 other 2-week-olds tested on the same afternoon at the same pediatric department at the same health insurance run clinic. Can we say lab error? Can we also say 4 sets of stressed parents??? Waiting for results from the retest. :(
- I did have some thoughts on discipline, but I have lost them now that things are better on that front. My brain can only hold one or two things at a time these days.
- My toddler is peeling off the little stickers on the back of breast pads and spreading the pads across the floor, but I'm nursing and can't stop her. And you know what? I don't care even a little! ;)
- Someone once told me that if you pray for patience (for example), God may not give you patience so much as the opportunity to exercise and so develop patience. I've thought about that a lot lately, like yesterday, when my toddler was trying to pour herself a cup of water out of the 1/4 full gallon jug. I went over to help her just as she inverted the jug, pouring water on the table, herself, and the floor. It was one of those slow-motion moments when you just can't seem to do anything. Soon, the gallon was empty, and she said, "Uh oh! Rain!" I laughed, sighed, and cleaned it up.
- Yesterday I managed to put both babies to sleep all by myself! Today, I managed to bathe & get dressed while they were both sleeping. Now, if I could only manage those two tasks on the same day. . .
- Another thing that having babies does is this: Children help their parents analyze and develop how they practice their faith (that is, when they aren't disrupting said practice of the Faith by driving the parents to distraction in Mass!!!) ;) In the coming weeks, we will begin planning for the baby's baptism. A thought that occurred to me is that, while I feel competent enough to teach my children the ins and outs of the practice of Catholicism, where I feel I am lacking is the ability to teach the love and awe--of the Church, of the Church as the Bride of Christ and of the Church as representative of the Body of Christ-- basically, awe and love of God through awe and love of the Faith that unites us. Is this something parents can teach? Likely. I frequently take lessons from Melanie and Bella (such as this one, and this one, and this one). I don't believe it has to be taught, but how wonderful if we could give something like that to our children! And if it begins growing in early childhood, hopefully the child will always have that as an anchor. But I don't know how to teach it. It is at these times that I realize that I am still new at this, and wonder where to go from here. . .
- I love Advent!! I love the decorations, the readings, the music--especially "O Come O Come Emmanuel," which I had never heard before I became Catholic. It is the time of the liturgical year when I most feel the awe and love--of God and the Church--that I mention above.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Book Recommendations?
I don't read parenting books. Having said this, can anyone recommend any sensible ones (Catholic or generic) on parenting toddlers?? Or if not, could fellow-bloggers ask for recommendations from their readers? Thanks! This is blogging-as-support group, I think. . .
Friday, November 23, 2007
Posts (Real and Intended) from This Hormonal Mom
Well, I can't say that I haven't had some blogworthy ideas lately, but I haven't felt like actually blogging them. I want the ideas to be "out there," so to speak, but without the effort of actually posting them--you know, typing in the URL, clicking "New Post" . . . That's where I get stuck. Once I'm here, it's like rolling off a log. Especially when I use tired cliches like that.
I thought about posting for Thanksgiving, but I couldn't decide whether to post something negative about how holidays raise false expectations or muster up some things I'm thankful for (I do have a number but posting them might seem a little redundant) for a sentimental post (actually, Chris strikes a nice balance here!). . .
I had one in my head about Sesame Street, in reference to this article, and one about the response I wrote to a company (one of the many) that feels the need to address parents' concerns about safety in the wake of the recalls of Chinese-made products. I would still like to post on these, but don't hold it against me if I don't manage it. . .
Here I am, nearing the end of week 3 with my new baby. My husband is getting ready to return to work on Monday. And it's getting tough. The first 2 weeks seemed to fly by quickly and easily. I was recovering well. I had energy. The toddler was sweet. The baby was sleeping a good 4+3 hours a night. And I could reminisce about the birth experience. All I had were minor annoyances--the normal postpartum stuff and then the limitations that I have been gradually ignoring: not picking up the toddler, not leaving the house with the newborn, that kind of thing. But reality is setting in. When I'm not holding one child, I'm holding the other one. Sometimes I'm holding both (though when I'm not tired, that can be really sweet). If I'm not nursing one, I'm looking for something the toddler will eat or feeding my baby's milk supply (most of the time, actually. . .). I feel both in demand and completely useless, since I've been warming my corner of the sofa/futon for the last 3 months of the pregnancy and the first 3 weeks of the baby's life. If I have any clothes that fits me, it is buried in the Closet-of-Rubbermaids and I haven't been able to access it. So I'm still sporting maternity fashions which, while comfortable, are getting blissfully but annoyingly loose. (I'm only 5 lbs. from my pre-pregnancy weight-which was still too much!)
Things cross my mind, like the dissertation--I wonder when I will finish? The fact that I HAVE to finish. . . Knowing I won't have a job past the spring. . . Knowing that even if English offers me a teaching assignment for the Summer (but these are in high demand and if I'm not a grad student, my chances of getting one are less likely), classes are only offered during the day every day of the week, which would require a perpetual babysitter or away-from-home child care (neither of which is possible). Similarly, next fall and spring (if hired by the department) I may not be able to keep my evening schedule, and I would have to teach at least 2 classes as a lecturer to match my current salary as a grad student. If I get hired by anyone else (which would necessitate applying), my problems will be worse, because I don't want my babies in daycare. But then at least I could afford it, might be able to limit it to 3 (part-)days a week, and my baby would be a year (give or take). I'm also worried about not being home 2 or 3 evenings a week in the Spring (because of teaching), the impending expiration of my financial aid, the impending repayment of the same financial aid, and incidentals like needing new tires.
Do I want to stay home all of the time? No. Do I think I could? Not without getting frustrated & depressed. ('Cause that would be different.) And unless my husband found another job that paid $15,000 more, we couldn't do it financially either. (Not being greedy & materialistic here, just thinking about current payments--and that's considering that I just finished a consumer credit program that paid off our first impoverished years of marriage!!) I also worry about simpler things like how to control the rambunctious toddler (or at least keep a good rein on her) and how on earth I will ever be able to leave the house with the two of them. The toddler does not hold hands. She runs in her own direction until forced to do otherwise. My son was not like this. I have visions of loading both children in the stroller (which, having failed to hear from the person who offered to give mer her double sit-n-stand, I ordered for myself. . .) to stroll them from the apartment to the car, 10 yards or so away. . .
So where is that Little-Engine-That-Could attitude? It has gone the way of the Dodo. Actually, it was a pose. I've been putting you all on.
Well, now I have to go clear up my broken water glass that I knocked off the arm of the sofa. *sigh* Will be back to check incessantly for comments. Sometimes I think blogging is an unhealthy addiction.
P.S.--Any lurkers. . . Pleeeeeease don't tell me that God is calling me to be a stay-at-home mom, much as I respect those who I know who are stay-at-home moms!! You may believe it about me if you wish, but I've heard that before, and it's not really helpful nor do I believe it to be true. (It's kind of like telling someone who's married that he should have been a priest, because that's his true calling.) Thanks! ;)
I thought about posting for Thanksgiving, but I couldn't decide whether to post something negative about how holidays raise false expectations or muster up some things I'm thankful for (I do have a number but posting them might seem a little redundant) for a sentimental post (actually, Chris strikes a nice balance here!). . .
I had one in my head about Sesame Street, in reference to this article, and one about the response I wrote to a company (one of the many) that feels the need to address parents' concerns about safety in the wake of the recalls of Chinese-made products. I would still like to post on these, but don't hold it against me if I don't manage it. . .
Here I am, nearing the end of week 3 with my new baby. My husband is getting ready to return to work on Monday. And it's getting tough. The first 2 weeks seemed to fly by quickly and easily. I was recovering well. I had energy. The toddler was sweet. The baby was sleeping a good 4+3 hours a night. And I could reminisce about the birth experience. All I had were minor annoyances--the normal postpartum stuff and then the limitations that I have been gradually ignoring: not picking up the toddler, not leaving the house with the newborn, that kind of thing. But reality is setting in. When I'm not holding one child, I'm holding the other one. Sometimes I'm holding both (though when I'm not tired, that can be really sweet). If I'm not nursing one, I'm looking for something the toddler will eat or feeding my baby's milk supply (most of the time, actually. . .). I feel both in demand and completely useless, since I've been warming my corner of the sofa/futon for the last 3 months of the pregnancy and the first 3 weeks of the baby's life. If I have any clothes that fits me, it is buried in the Closet-of-Rubbermaids and I haven't been able to access it. So I'm still sporting maternity fashions which, while comfortable, are getting blissfully but annoyingly loose. (I'm only 5 lbs. from my pre-pregnancy weight-which was still too much!)
Things cross my mind, like the dissertation--I wonder when I will finish? The fact that I HAVE to finish. . . Knowing I won't have a job past the spring. . . Knowing that even if English offers me a teaching assignment for the Summer (but these are in high demand and if I'm not a grad student, my chances of getting one are less likely), classes are only offered during the day every day of the week, which would require a perpetual babysitter or away-from-home child care (neither of which is possible). Similarly, next fall and spring (if hired by the department) I may not be able to keep my evening schedule, and I would have to teach at least 2 classes as a lecturer to match my current salary as a grad student. If I get hired by anyone else (which would necessitate applying), my problems will be worse, because I don't want my babies in daycare. But then at least I could afford it, might be able to limit it to 3 (part-)days a week, and my baby would be a year (give or take). I'm also worried about not being home 2 or 3 evenings a week in the Spring (because of teaching), the impending expiration of my financial aid, the impending repayment of the same financial aid, and incidentals like needing new tires.
Do I want to stay home all of the time? No. Do I think I could? Not without getting frustrated & depressed. ('Cause that would be different.) And unless my husband found another job that paid $15,000 more, we couldn't do it financially either. (Not being greedy & materialistic here, just thinking about current payments--and that's considering that I just finished a consumer credit program that paid off our first impoverished years of marriage!!) I also worry about simpler things like how to control the rambunctious toddler (or at least keep a good rein on her) and how on earth I will ever be able to leave the house with the two of them. The toddler does not hold hands. She runs in her own direction until forced to do otherwise. My son was not like this. I have visions of loading both children in the stroller (which, having failed to hear from the person who offered to give mer her double sit-n-stand, I ordered for myself. . .) to stroll them from the apartment to the car, 10 yards or so away. . .
So where is that Little-Engine-That-Could attitude? It has gone the way of the Dodo. Actually, it was a pose. I've been putting you all on.
Well, now I have to go clear up my broken water glass that I knocked off the arm of the sofa. *sigh* Will be back to check incessantly for comments. Sometimes I think blogging is an unhealthy addiction.
P.S.--Any lurkers. . . Pleeeeeease don't tell me that God is calling me to be a stay-at-home mom, much as I respect those who I know who are stay-at-home moms!! You may believe it about me if you wish, but I've heard that before, and it's not really helpful nor do I believe it to be true. (It's kind of like telling someone who's married that he should have been a priest, because that's his true calling.) Thanks! ;)
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I Wimped Out and a Pregnancy Retrospective
Actually, the phrase "cop out" comes to mind. I have been feeling guilty about taking the baby out, which I've done a few times (which is a few times more than I'm comfortable with). So did I spend my time at home with my baby? Well, no. But I didn't go to the talk, either. After taking her out yesterday and trying out the sling, I decided I needed more practice with it before using it ANYWHERE. She cried when I was putting her in it! She didn't do that the first time I tried, though she is a few days older and more aware of things now than she was the first time. I am a failure with slings & things overall, but I am determined to make one work! And then there's the nursing--while she nurses extremely well, her nursing habits are not yet well-formed, if that makes sense, so I never know when she will fall asleep, when she's really finished, when she will start to fuss again, etc. So I thought that maybe this would be rushing it a bit. Convinced? Well, all of these things were factors. But perhaps I realized, too, that it really wasn't how I wanted to spend my afternoon. I wanted to listen to the talk & participate (although I did NOT feel like doing anything academic last night--I was a bit hormonal, truth be told, and had had a day with a lot of emotional ups & downs). However, I'm enjoying having all of my family around right now (husband, two daughters, son when he's not at school). So while I'm finding myself positively climbing the walls because I want to go places & do things (and NOT rest!!), I don't necessarily want to do them alone. And I want to do important things like shop for strollers, not frivolous things like attending academic talks! (Priorities, priorities)
So these weeks are proving difficult for me, NOT because I am feeling so bad and suffering from lack of sleep, but because I am feeling so good. The curse of a quick recovery is that you want to go back to the things you were doing before, NOW--not later. In my case, I am feeling better now than I was throughout most of my pregnancy. I don't mean to sound like the pregnancy was bad--it wasn't. I had a few aches & pains, but they were never constant or severe. No swelling at all until the end, and then barely worth mentioning. But I was tired. Soooooo tired. The kind of tired that feels drug-induced. My waves of tired reminded me of the irresistable sleep of Benadryl. Complete with the hangover. And this had been with me since the summer, regardless of the iron or vitamins or diet (or caffeine, some days). So for the first time in months I have my normal energy level again, and my mind and my body alike are relieved. I know, how odd--a new mother who claims to have energy. Well, I guess my body finds making milk easier than nourishing a growing baby inside. I have been pregnant or breastfeeding (and for a while, both) for almost 3 years now, and I guess my body is saying, "O.K.--this is the easy stuff!" Also, the baby is sleeping. Shhhh! Don't tell! A breastfed baby--sleeping! Well, it doesn't hurt that she emerged the size of a 1+ month-old. So for the past few nights she has slept for 3- and 4-hour stretches at a time, allowing me as much as 7 hours of sleep a night, and last night she actually slept for 5 hours straight. Even in the hospital she would sleep 3 or 4 hours, which made me more nervous then because my toddler had a really hard time "waking up" after birth. She wouldn't wake up to eat. And then she became jaundiced, and our problems multiplied. But this baby isn't sleepy. Not that way. Even in the hospital she woke when she was ready to eat--and only when she was ready. And she still does. Although she will sleep longer when held--like now for example. She is on my lap. (I like to type with a baby on my lap--provided she's too young to try to help!)
I also feel better mentally than I have in months. The whole pregnancy was filled with "what-ifs" for me. . . and now they're gone. The baby is healthy, she fits seamlessly into the family, the toddler doesn't feel threatened, and I do indeed feel like doing things (and I feel like I can do things!)--all worries that I had while pregnant. She is sweet and beautiful and I love her. And I guess I know in a more tangible way before--from renewed experience rather than just theory--that babies are possibilities rather than difficulties. They make us resourceful. They lift us up rather than weighing us down. But I have realized that after my toddler was born in October 2005, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, with family difficulties all around, with the circumstances of her birth--3 weeks early, her jaundice, her sleepiness, her weight loss, I was stressed, I was exhausted, I was weighed down, and I believe I was depressed. I looked at the time, and I did not have the textbook symptoms of "postpartum depression." For one thing, my negative feelings were never directed toward the baby. But I was depressed nonetheless. I did eventually "snap out of it," which, for some, might indicate that I was not depressed. But what snapped me out of it was the decision to make an appointment with a counselor. I canceled the appointment, but from that day forward, things became better. And then I became pregnant (well, not immediately. . .). But it's not difficult to see, with so much negativity following the birth of my second child why pregnancy might inspire mixed feelings ("openness to life" notwithstanding--but I think one can be "open to life" but not prepared for it. . .).
And then there was the birth. I have mentioned before that I had pitocin for my first and second because of leaking amniotic fluid without contractions. The second time was a disappointment because it was a repeat of the same scenario, though there were elements of satisfaction--like only pushing for 15 minutes and no episiotomy, only a slight tear. But the memory of intense, unmanageable pain was too recent. I was afraid. So that added to the anxiety of the pregnancy.
What have I learned? That I love my babies. That my family is strong enough to accept new additions. (My toddler--who met the baby only 11 days ago--thinks her as much a part of the family as any of us now, and includes the baby when she wants us all together.) That my body can go into labor on its own, quite efficiently, and that I can deliver a baby with minimal medical intervention (or does what I did qualify as no medical intervention? no--there was an IV--hate those things). That I can manage pain. That the first two weeks postpartum can be easy--actually easy!! I think I needed to learn these lessons. And finally, that quick recovery makes me stir crazy!!!
(More LDR talk to come--sorry!)
So these weeks are proving difficult for me, NOT because I am feeling so bad and suffering from lack of sleep, but because I am feeling so good. The curse of a quick recovery is that you want to go back to the things you were doing before, NOW--not later. In my case, I am feeling better now than I was throughout most of my pregnancy. I don't mean to sound like the pregnancy was bad--it wasn't. I had a few aches & pains, but they were never constant or severe. No swelling at all until the end, and then barely worth mentioning. But I was tired. Soooooo tired. The kind of tired that feels drug-induced. My waves of tired reminded me of the irresistable sleep of Benadryl. Complete with the hangover. And this had been with me since the summer, regardless of the iron or vitamins or diet (or caffeine, some days). So for the first time in months I have my normal energy level again, and my mind and my body alike are relieved. I know, how odd--a new mother who claims to have energy. Well, I guess my body finds making milk easier than nourishing a growing baby inside. I have been pregnant or breastfeeding (and for a while, both) for almost 3 years now, and I guess my body is saying, "O.K.--this is the easy stuff!" Also, the baby is sleeping. Shhhh! Don't tell! A breastfed baby--sleeping! Well, it doesn't hurt that she emerged the size of a 1+ month-old. So for the past few nights she has slept for 3- and 4-hour stretches at a time, allowing me as much as 7 hours of sleep a night, and last night she actually slept for 5 hours straight. Even in the hospital she would sleep 3 or 4 hours, which made me more nervous then because my toddler had a really hard time "waking up" after birth. She wouldn't wake up to eat. And then she became jaundiced, and our problems multiplied. But this baby isn't sleepy. Not that way. Even in the hospital she woke when she was ready to eat--and only when she was ready. And she still does. Although she will sleep longer when held--like now for example. She is on my lap. (I like to type with a baby on my lap--provided she's too young to try to help!)
I also feel better mentally than I have in months. The whole pregnancy was filled with "what-ifs" for me. . . and now they're gone. The baby is healthy, she fits seamlessly into the family, the toddler doesn't feel threatened, and I do indeed feel like doing things (and I feel like I can do things!)--all worries that I had while pregnant. She is sweet and beautiful and I love her. And I guess I know in a more tangible way before--from renewed experience rather than just theory--that babies are possibilities rather than difficulties. They make us resourceful. They lift us up rather than weighing us down. But I have realized that after my toddler was born in October 2005, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, with family difficulties all around, with the circumstances of her birth--3 weeks early, her jaundice, her sleepiness, her weight loss, I was stressed, I was exhausted, I was weighed down, and I believe I was depressed. I looked at the time, and I did not have the textbook symptoms of "postpartum depression." For one thing, my negative feelings were never directed toward the baby. But I was depressed nonetheless. I did eventually "snap out of it," which, for some, might indicate that I was not depressed. But what snapped me out of it was the decision to make an appointment with a counselor. I canceled the appointment, but from that day forward, things became better. And then I became pregnant (well, not immediately. . .). But it's not difficult to see, with so much negativity following the birth of my second child why pregnancy might inspire mixed feelings ("openness to life" notwithstanding--but I think one can be "open to life" but not prepared for it. . .).
And then there was the birth. I have mentioned before that I had pitocin for my first and second because of leaking amniotic fluid without contractions. The second time was a disappointment because it was a repeat of the same scenario, though there were elements of satisfaction--like only pushing for 15 minutes and no episiotomy, only a slight tear. But the memory of intense, unmanageable pain was too recent. I was afraid. So that added to the anxiety of the pregnancy.
What have I learned? That I love my babies. That my family is strong enough to accept new additions. (My toddler--who met the baby only 11 days ago--thinks her as much a part of the family as any of us now, and includes the baby when she wants us all together.) That my body can go into labor on its own, quite efficiently, and that I can deliver a baby with minimal medical intervention (or does what I did qualify as no medical intervention? no--there was an IV--hate those things). That I can manage pain. That the first two weeks postpartum can be easy--actually easy!! I think I needed to learn these lessons. And finally, that quick recovery makes me stir crazy!!!
(More LDR talk to come--sorry!)
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Babies & Academic Professionalism
Okay, so the baby (the Chic-lette, as she has been named courtesy of Mrs. Darwin!) is not even 2 weeks old, and I already have a professional dilemma of sorts. I asked my adviser for his advice, but he is, admittedly, male, and didn't feel qualified to answer this one!! (Although he did say that he would have no problem personally with the situation I described.) On Thursday, there is a colloquium I would like to attend sponsored by the university's humanities center. A fellow-graduate student is presenting a paper on D. H. Lawrence, whom I am working on right now (trying to wrap up that pesky chapter). Actually, I think attending might jump-start my attempt to finish (if one can jump-start a wrap-up). My problem? Very small baby (well, no--very young baby!), exclusively breast fed. First issue--she is very young. I have doubts about whether I should have her out & about, but she would be kept very close to me and I'm about to lose my mind staying home most of the time. Every day or every other day I have to get out--usually just a quick ride in the car (with the baby), but it helps. So this actually sounds more attractive than it might otherwise! Second problem--silly as it sounds, I don't want to draw too much attention to myself (and my baby) or to seem like I'm trying to draw attention to myself. I'm imagining people thinking that I want people to ooh and aah over the baby, when in fact, my attitude toward such things is more the "No thank you, please don't breathe on my baby" attitude. Third--and the biggest--issue (I won't say problem) is the breastfeeding issue. The department is currently filled with swarms of mothers who do or have breastfed. Even so, there are a number of different attitudes present about the correct time & place to do such things. Many of the other grad student mothers also have alternated with bottles of breast milk or formula, which, even if I decided to do at some point, I would not do so early. The grad coordinator, who possesses a different generation's feminist notion of the place of children in one's professional life, made a comment once in a class about the scandal of a prominent scholar breastfeeding at the large national conference. In that case, it was recognized as an attempt to draw attention to herself. In my case, it would not be, but it might be interpreted as such. While generally I scorn those who are offended by breastfeeding in public, I feel a bit different about professional situations. This might be because I hate professional situations. In general, I actively seek to avoid them. Usually, if people I know are involved, I don't mind as much, but in this case, I feel awkward precisely because there are people I know involved. I don't particularly want to be sneered at with my baby for violating professional decorum. And at the same time I hate feeling hesitant. I don't like playing the game, really. Especially when I don't agree with what passes for "rules."
UPDATE: Well, I just learned that the scadalous example of breastfeeding at the national conference "featured black fishnet stockings, a black letter (maybe leather?) bustier, and a male attendent" and was not "run of the mill breastfeeding." Ha!! I am much amused.
UPDATE: Well, I just learned that the scadalous example of breastfeeding at the national conference "featured black fishnet stockings, a black letter (maybe leather?) bustier, and a male attendent" and was not "run of the mill breastfeeding." Ha!! I am much amused.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
A Breastfeeding Blog with GUTS and a little bit about me
I discovered the Black Breastfeeding Blog a few weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to introduce it. There's so much to like here, including the author's investigation into historical photographs of black women breastfeeding that are simply FASCINATING. But I was waiting for the one post that spoke to something close to my blog's world. . . And, well, this one struck a chord with me--a post with attitude by a woman who feels no need to be apologetic about the choice she has made to breastfeed, even though they are not the choices that other women have made. I find it odd anyway that promoting breastfeeding as the best (i.e. healthiest) choice for mother and baby should be so politicized and sensitive, as I've indicated before.
. . . . .
Posts are likely to be slim for a while, as my brain is occupied in many directions at once. I'm still keeping up with my class, thinking about dissertation work (and maybe inching closer to actually finishing that chapter). I'm feeling better than I should considering I gave birth less than a week ago, nursing is going great, and the toddler really does like the baby (she even threw a fit in the hospital because she thought the nurse was wheeling away OUR baby!!). There are little attention-seeking behaviors--she makes herself cry, for example, in a little squeaking "waaa"--perhaps because the baby gets so much attention when she cries that way! And she wants extra mommy-time (quite naturally). But overall, things are good. I don't feel like the world needs to stop & let me catch up, nor do I feel (as I did when the toddler was born) that I don't really want to catch up with the world anyway. The baby is beautiful, and I can't believe that a week ago I was still waiting for her. Blogging ideas are just slim, that's all!
. . . . .
Posts are likely to be slim for a while, as my brain is occupied in many directions at once. I'm still keeping up with my class, thinking about dissertation work (and maybe inching closer to actually finishing that chapter). I'm feeling better than I should considering I gave birth less than a week ago, nursing is going great, and the toddler really does like the baby (she even threw a fit in the hospital because she thought the nurse was wheeling away OUR baby!!). There are little attention-seeking behaviors--she makes herself cry, for example, in a little squeaking "waaa"--perhaps because the baby gets so much attention when she cries that way! And she wants extra mommy-time (quite naturally). But overall, things are good. I don't feel like the world needs to stop & let me catch up, nor do I feel (as I did when the toddler was born) that I don't really want to catch up with the world anyway. The baby is beautiful, and I can't believe that a week ago I was still waiting for her. Blogging ideas are just slim, that's all!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
I did it! She's here!!--UPDATE
Well, having finished blogging and gone to bed after a contraction or two at 12:30 or so, I was awakened at 3 A.M. (or so) by my toddler whimpering in her sleep :( and another contraction (they seemed only to come at 3 A.M.). This was it! In not too long, I realized that they were coming rather quickly, but I didn't think they were lasting long. Not so, but the tough part was over quickly. I managed pain courtesy of back rubs from my husband (who barely left my side in spite of his efforts to pack things) & an on-the-knees position. I took one bath at 3:15, then another while my husband picked up my brother (the only one of my siblings who could make it at that time) to stay with my other two. I had already had a bath before going to bed (which means that I probably went to bed at more like 1 A. M.--adjusted time). I arrived at the hospital at 4:30 or so, waited for a while to be escorted to Labor/Delivery, where I delivered a beautiful healthy girl at 6:07, with no anaesthesia, no pitocin, no episiotomy, and no stitches. Yay!! Even had I wanted anaesthesia, it wouldn't have been available to me. I'm still a bit overwhelmed by it all. I mean, less than 12 hours ago, I was wondering how much longer I would have to be waiting. Now she's here! The nurse thinks that the only reason I didn't deliver at home or on the way here was because the water didn't break. Hah! Considering that's what happened the first two times. . . The doctor was going to rupture the membranes, but she didn't have to. The baby is 9 lbs. 0.5 oz. Oh, and vocalization helps immensely! At times, I probably sounded like I was doing voice exercises. Anyway, I can't believe I'm blogging this!! Not even 12 hours later! But I couldn't sleep. I'm riding on a serious adrenaline rush.
One regret at this point--they put her on a blanket on my chest, but I haven't been able to breastfeed or really hold her. She didn't cry enough immediately to get the fluid out of her lungs, so they took her to the nursery to observe her. She's O.K. now and sleeping, or so I hear. So I guess I'll see her soon. I keep having, "Okay--I want my baby now" feelings. Hey, I worked hard for that baby (for three hours)!! :)
UPDATE: Okay, I had her weight wrong. *ahem* She's 9 lbs. 8 oz. She beat her brother's record by an ounce and a half. (!!!!!!!!!)
I also did get to hold & breastfeed her, finally. It is 11:40 now and she just left (after a little over an hour) to be re-checked for temperature and oxygen level. But she nursed very well before she left. She's a natural! A little moosette (since her brother was our little moose!). ;)
One regret at this point--they put her on a blanket on my chest, but I haven't been able to breastfeed or really hold her. She didn't cry enough immediately to get the fluid out of her lungs, so they took her to the nursery to observe her. She's O.K. now and sleeping, or so I hear. So I guess I'll see her soon. I keep having, "Okay--I want my baby now" feelings. Hey, I worked hard for that baby (for three hours)!! :)
UPDATE: Okay, I had her weight wrong. *ahem* She's 9 lbs. 8 oz. She beat her brother's record by an ounce and a half. (!!!!!!!!!)
I also did get to hold & breastfeed her, finally. It is 11:40 now and she just left (after a little over an hour) to be re-checked for temperature and oxygen level. But she nursed very well before she left. She's a natural! A little moosette (since her brother was our little moose!). ;)
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