The one where I explain terrorism to a four-year-old…

By Preschool Mom

I have a four-year-old boy. He asks questions about everything. All the time…

A few months back he started asking where Sesame Street was. It took me forever to realize he was asking this because the theme song asks “Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?” After DAYS of fielding that question, I finally told him Sesame Street was in New York (because it looks like New York City to me) and hoped that would be the end of it. Silly me…that just lead to a lot more questions, like “How do you get to New York?” Answer “An airplane.” Question: “Where is New York?” Answer: “North of here.” Question: “What is north?” Answer: “Don’t you want to go outside and play?”

Not long ago my husband had to go to New York on business and my son’s first question to him was, “Are you going to Sesame Street?” My husband said he wasn’t going to make it that trip; he would wait until our son could go with him. Ironically, he was staying at a hotel in Times Square and one of the first things he saw when he got out of the cab were several Sesame Street characters posing for pictures. I felt vindicated; Sesame Street is in New York after all!

Being a teacher, I frequent our local thrift shop a lot for new books for my classroom. At ten cents a board book you just can’t go wrong. Today I was thrilled to find a children’s book called My New York, and snapped it up for a whopping 75 cents. WooHoo, I thought, a book to answer all the countless New York questions!!! My son flipped through the book without me first, looked up and said “Sesame Street isn’t in here.” I told him I was sure there were lots of other neat things to learn about and sat down to read it with him. It didn’t even dawn on me to check the copyright date of the book, and so I was shocked when the twin towers of the World Trade Center popped up in several sections.  

I could have just glossed over those two tall buildings, but something inside me said no. I know he’s only four, but it seemed to dishonor the memory of all those who died to not tell him a little about what happened. He is obsessed with bad guys right now, so when he pointed out the towers on the map I told him they weren’t there anymore, that really real bad guys knocked the buildings down. I left out the part about the airplanes (because with an upcoming trip to grandma’s I didn’t think TSA would look too highly on a kid talking about planes crashing into buildings) but I did try to explain about how people who didn’t like us did a very bad thing.

Was I wrong to do this? Did the limited information I provided him offer just enough for him to be confused or scared? Honestly, I don’t know. But it was a gut parenting moment where I felt like the truth was far better than the white lie of omission. I want to protect my children as much as possible. I want them to believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Ultimately I want them to remain children for as long as they can. But I can’t ignore the world we live in, and I can’t pretend that it is always a safe place. I think my son needs to know that bad guys can be real and aren’t just characters in a cartoon. After all, that knowledge might one day save his life. 

Note: The edition of the book we read was from 1993. The New Anniversary Edition from 2003 is updated with the words “site of the World Trade Center.”

 

The New Diet Craze....The Wet Nurse

by Climber Mom

I have decided that public health professionals have gone about encouraging breastfeeding all wrong.

When you're pregnant everything you read and hear from friends and family (whether solicited or not) describes how important breastfeeding is to the health of your newborn. I totally agree, and while I was pregnant I went to a breastfeeding class and even a few La Leche league meetings to be as prepared as I could be to ensure I could nurse my child.

But in all that information, nowhere did I read or hear about the truly awesome benefit of breastfeeding.... the weight loss!

I think the public health community has really missed an opportunity with their target audience -- and hey I work in PR so I can say that:). EVERY women worries about the weight gained from pregnancy and how hard it will be to lose the weight after her child is born. And you can't turn around in a grocery store or book store without a magazine article about a new diet craze or weight loss plan. We care about how we look -- shocking. And we want to look like "ourselves" after our baby and not just a "mom."

So seriously, why does no one talk about the most awesome part of breastfeeding?.... You actually expend hundreds of calories a day just sitting around watching TV and eating everything in site (I eat more than my husband and continue to lose weight- sweet!). This is every woman's dream!

As a bonus, you are doing the absolute best thing you can be doing for your child:) And people don't talk about this???

Oh and don't forget the boobs! You gain a cup size just by nursing your baby. Forget plastic surgery, you want to get skinny and get big boobs... have a baby (and nurse him or her):)

It's weird. I have always wanted to have children so I never concerned myself too much with what would happen to my body. I just figured it would be worth it and I'd deal with it. But I have to admit, once I was pregnant, I was a bit terrified about how I would lose the 35 pounds I gained for my 8 pound 3 oz baby. I wanted to look like the woman my husband married after the baby, and I just wasn't sure how hard that would be to accomplish.

For me (and obviously, this isn't true for everyone so please don't hate me!- I've probably just cursed myself for round two), but loosing the weight was easier than I ever imagined. The week after my son was born (who ate constantly), I was back in my regular clothes. And by my six week postpardum visit, I weighed 10 pounds less than I did when I got pregnant -  I actually weighed less than I did when I graduated high school....with no effort at all, other than feeding my baby.

So basically this last year was kind of a dream. It was my one year to be Barbie. I had the giant nursing boobs and a tiny waist (well tiny for me) and I worked out less than any year I can remember (a baby with an early bedtime and the constant rounds of daycare colds inhibited my grand workout plans). So again, why is this a best kept secret?

Now my problem is, my child is 13 months old and I'm weaning him (he's down to just a morning feeding). For the most part, I'm thrilled. I'm ready to have my body back all to myself, to be able to share the joy of getting up with my son at 6:30 a.m. with my husband and to let his grandparents enjoy him for a weekend while his parents sleep in. Yes, I will miss the closeness that comes with nursing and I'm sad my baby isn't a baby any more, but you know what's equally as bad... I finally stop sharing my body with my baby and I lose the diet plan! That just so wrong;)

I have actually considered continuing to pump after he's weaned just so I can keep eating as much as I want and stay skinny. As a bonus I could even donate the milk and feel great about myself:) The only problem with that is pumping really sucks.... but then so does running....

Maybe instead I can bring back the wet nurse. Perhaps I can write a book and get that started as a new diet craze:)

The one with the breast pump and the rock concert…

By Preschool Mom

Motherhood routinely surprises me. You would think after four years and two kids I would be prepared for the unexpected, but nope, still taken off guard on a regular basis. Sometimes it is simply a result of sleep deprivation. I have a three month old, and not one of those strange alien creatures who sleeps eight to ten hours a night. Needless to say I’m not always on my “A” game, so it makes sense that I will walk into a room and be surprised to find my sleeping baby there. No, no, I didn’t forget that I put him there; I forgot that I had him! Yikes!

Thankfully forgetting I have two children doesn’t happen often, but each day  is filled with a variety of surprising things that come out of my mouth that I just have to shake my head at. The most recent of these was said to my husband: “Thank you for holding the baby for me; going to the bathroom alone was such a pleasant experience.” You know you’ve reached full on mom-dom when you describe a solo trip to the loo as a pleasant experience.  Between my own two boys and my part-time job as a preschool teacher I pretty much live in kidville 24/7, so I was really not prepared for re-entry into adult life. When my husband got tickets to the Eric Clapton concert we thought, woohoo, a totally kid-free zone! Yeah, not so much…

As all moms know, coordinating a night out can require the planning of a military invasion. After shipping the four-year-old off to grandma and grandpa for the night, I got the younger one ready to spend some quality time with a sitter. Since I’m nursing, this required pumping, packing alternative bottles and praying that he would actually eat after all that work.  I was exhausted by the time we got in the car and headed for the concert!

Of course when you are nursing you can’t just say to the girls, “okay, the kid is not around so I don’t need you to work for the next four hours or so.” Nope, the boobs are on 24/7 production mode with no off switch. I had thrown the breast pump in a ziplock bag because I figured I’d need to pump, but I wasn’t thinking about the fact that we had to park a mile away and I wouldn’t be able to nip out to the car and take care of business. I’d been so excited to carry my cute little bag instead of the ever present diaper backpack, that I didn’t even consider the need to stash the hand-pump somewhere. When we got to the concert I realized I had NOT planned accordingly. My husband is a pretty understanding guy, but no way was he walking in with me and a gallon sized CLEAR ziplock bag with a breast pump and milk storage bags.

I couldn’t help it, I actually giggled at the absurdity of the situation. Never in a million years did I expect to be sitting in my car deciding what was more important to take into a rock concert, my wallet or my breast pump.  Ultimately, I was shocked at how much my little Kate Spade bag could hold, and even more shocked was the 70-year-old man who checked my bag at the door. He looked inside the bag, and then he looked up at me with raised eyebrows.  I just shook my head and thought, “That’s right mister, it’s a breast pump!”

The concert was great (except for the 6’10” guy sitting in front of 5’2” me) and it was a lot of fun to be out with my husband. I got lucky and didn’t have to pump which was a good thing because a) pumping in a public restroom at a concert = gross and b) the baby refused the bottle so he was thrilled to see me and his food supply when we picked him up. At the end of the night I couldn’t help thinking that only a mother would find herself in such a situation, and only a mother would do the same thing again!