Be safe out there today and have fun!!
Happy Halloween!
October 2011 Archive
Parents, Please Cover Your Little Girl’s Kooka This Halloween
Halloween is tomorrow and I’m really excited. It’s fun to dress up in costume, walk the neighborhood and see people opening their doors with a smile… and the scrooges who turn off their lights but you know they’re totally there. The candy part isn’t bad, either. I started Weight Watchers yesterday, so I can’t eat an entire plastic pumpkin full of chocolate, but I can have a few pieces. Yay for Twix and Snickers!
I don’t consider myself all that uptight but I’ve gotta tell you – a couple of trips through party stores, costume shops and glances at Facebook photos has me shaking my head about the state of little girl costumes today, if you can call them costumes. I’m not the first person to write about the sexualization of little girls, but it’s getting to be a bit much, even for my taste.
Disclaimer: I have no issue with slutty adult costumes (unless you’re wearing it at your 6 year old’s costume party) – after all, Halloween is about having fun and being someone or something different for a day. (If that’s not different for you, then, more power to you, I guess?) My issue is with costumes for young, impressionable girls who in my opinion are sexualizing themselves waaayyy too early. And the parents who are letting it happen.
I’m not saying that dressing like a slut on Halloween will buy you a one-way ticket to 16 and Pregnant, but parents – please think about what message you are sending when you send your young girl out on the street looking like a hooker.
Admittedly, I haven’t had to deal with the angry wails of a tween girl who says that I’m the Worst.Mother.In.The.World for not letting her wear a thong over her Daisy Dukes or saying her shirt is cut so low I can see her ankles, but I’m afraid that the problem with kids dressing inappropriately is a direct result of parents who are afraid to say NO.
For the most part, even though some little girl superhero costumes are short and have tight bodices, I see nothing overtly sexual about them. Probably because there is nothing overtly sexual about a 5 year old. But it’s a slippery slope. Wonder Woman costume barely covers your 9 year old’s kooka? Slap on a pair of leggings or shorts underneath.
We’re afraid that our kids won’t like us – we want them to confide in us and let us into their inner circle. But there is a time for that when they’re off on their own. Young children need parents to give them direction, to let them know what is okay and what isn’t acceptable. I don’t see why showing your ass cheeks is a “must-do” or being in danger of a nip slip is required to look good. I’d rather have my kid say they hate me now than dry her tears at 14 when she doesn’t understand why the boys gossip that she’s a slut while simultaneously trying to get her into bed.
If you think I’m being overly dramatic and insane, check out these costumes, which start at size Child 4-6.
What do you think? Am I just having a bad day or do you agree?
Oh, and Happy Halloween 
I will post pictures of our non-sexy Elmo and Spiderman in the next few days…
Why would your child even want to be a French maid? She's probably never heard of it.
Not awful, but why the belly button? She has her whole life to show off her skin.
Again with the French maid. Lace up corset and choker?
This is supposed to be Goldilocks/Bratz-style. Whaaaaaa? I just don't think anything about this says "Goldilocks".
Monster High dolls are like Lady Gaga gone wrong. What is this get-up? Is this even costume-worthy?
She has her whole life to be your little devil. Do we really need the lace-up top and super short skirt?
This is supposed to be Little Bo Peep. Again, nothing about this is appropriate for tending to sheep.
Notes From a Dragon Mom – A Reality Check
I wanted all of us to have this at our fingertips…
By EMILY RAPP
Emily Rapp is the author of “Poster Child: A Memoir,” and a professor of creative writing at the Santa Fe University of Art and Design.
MY son, Ronan, looks at me and raises one eyebrow. His eyes are bright and focused. Ronan means “little seal” in Irish and it suits him.
I want to stop here, before the dreadful hitch: my son is 18 months old and will likely die before his third birthday. Ronan was born with Tay-Sachs, a rare genetic disorder. He is slowly regressing into a vegetative state. He’ll become paralyzed, experience seizures, lose all of his senses before he dies. There is no treatment and no cure.
How do you parent without a net, without a future, knowing that you will lose your child, bit by torturous bit?
Depressing? Sure. But not without wisdom, not without a profound understanding of the human experience or without hard-won lessons, forged through grief and helplessness and deeply committed love about how to be not just a mother or a father but how to be human.
Parenting advice is, by its nature, future-directed. I know. I read all the parenting magazines. During my pregnancy, I devoured every parenting guide I could find. My husband and I thought about a lot of questions they raised: will breast-feeding enhance his brain function? Will music class improve his cognitive skills? Will the right preschool help him get into the right college? I made lists. I planned and plotted and hoped. Future, future, future.
We never thought about how we might parent a child for whom there is no future. The prenatal test I took for Tay-Sachs was negative; our genetic counselor didn’t think I needed the test, since I’m not Jewish and Tay-Sachs is thought to be a greater risk among Ashkenazi Jews. Being somewhat obsessive about such matters, I had it done anyway, twice. Both times the results were negative.
Our parenting plans, our lists, the advice I read before Ronan’s birth make little sense now. No matter what we do for Ronan — choose organic or non-organic food; cloth diapers or disposable; attachment parenting or sleep training — he will die. All the decisions that once mattered so much, don’t.
All parents want their children to prosper, to matter. We enroll our children in music class or take them to Mommy and Me swim class because we hope they will manifest some fabulous talent that will set them — and therefore us, the proud parents — apart. Traditional parenting naturally presumes a future where the child outlives the parent and ideally becomes successful, perhaps even achieves something spectacular. Amy Chua’s “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother” is only the latest handbook for parents hoping to guide their children along this path. It’s animated by the idea that good, careful investments in your children will pay off in the form of happy endings, rich futures.
But I have abandoned the future, and with it any visions of Ronan’s scoring a perfect SAT or sprinting across a stage with a Harvard diploma in his hand. We’re not waiting for Ronan to make us proud. We don’t expect future returns on our investment. We’ve chucked the graphs of developmental milestones and we avoid parenting magazines at the pediatrician’s office. Ronan has given us a terrible freedom from expectations, a magical world where there are no goals, no prizes to win, no outcomes to monitor, discuss, compare.
But the day-to-day is often peaceful, even blissful. This was my day with my son: cuddling, feedings, naps. He can watch television if he wants to; he can have pudding and cheesecake for every meal. We are a very permissive household. We do our best for our kid, feed him fresh food, brush his teeth, make sure he’s clean and warm and well rested and … healthy? Well, no. The only task here is to love, and we tell him we love him, not caring that he doesn’t understand the words. We encourage him to do what he can, though unlike us he is without ego or ambition.
Ronan won’t prosper or succeed in the way we have come to understand this term in our culture; he will never walk or say “Mama,” and I will never be a tiger mom. The mothers and fathers of terminally ill children are something else entirely. Our goals are simple and terrible: to help our children live with minimal discomfort and maximum dignity. We will not launch our children into a bright and promising future, but see them into early graves. We will prepare to lose them and then, impossibly, to live on after that gutting loss. This requires a new ferocity, a new way of thinking, a new animal. We are dragon parents: fierce and loyal and loving as hell. Our experiences have taught us how to parent for the here and now, for the sake of parenting, for the humanity implicit in the act itself, though this runs counter to traditional wisdom and advice.
NOBODY asks dragon parents for advice; we’re too scary. Our grief is primal and unwieldy and embarrassing. The certainties that most parents face are irrelevant to us, and frankly, kind of silly. Our narratives are grisly, the stakes impossibly high. Conversations about which seizure medication is most effective or how to feed children who have trouble swallowing are tantamount to breathing fire at a dinner party or on the playground. Like Dr. Spock suddenly possessed by Al Gore, we offer inconvenient truths and foretell disaster.
And there’s this: parents who, particularly in this country, are expected to be superhuman, to raise children who outpace all their peers, don’t want to see what we see. The long truth about their children, about themselves: that none of it is forever.
I would walk through a tunnel of fire if it would save my son. I would take my chances on a stripped battlefield with a sling and a rock à la David and Goliath if it would make a difference. But it won’t. I can roar all I want about the unfairness of this ridiculous disease, but the facts remain. What I can do is protect my son from as much pain as possible, and then finally do the hardest thing of all, a thing most parents will thankfully never have to do: I will love him to the end of his life, and then I will let him go.
But today Ronan is alive and his breath smells like sweet rice. I can see my reflection in his greenish-gold eyes. I am a reflection of him and not the other way around, and this is, I believe, as it should be. This is a love story, and like all great love stories, it is a story of loss. Parenting, I’ve come to understand, is about loving my child today. Now. In fact, for any parent, anywhere, that’s all there is.
Mommy Wars
Every night I get The Stir Daily Ten from CafeMom, a rundown of parenting news and opinions from featured columnists. I just read this article about Mainstream Parenting Ideas and it’s not the article that pissed me off (even though it is complete junk and has few valid points “backed up” by junk science) it was the inevitable comments that followed. Even if you’re not a parent, the comments will most likely piss you off. In fact, I’m so pissed off about how parents (note: Moms) treat each other that I’m going to just go off on a complete rambling, nonsensical jumble of a tangent.
Yes, yes, yes - I’ve given advice to people before when they asked about parenting techniques. I’ve also pushed one method over another when talking to friends about discipline and I did write a post with my beliefs about spanking so maybe I’m a total hypocrite but why do parents feel the need to constantly castigate each other and get on a soapbox when it comes to co-sleeping, breastfeeding and every aspect of raising children? Why can’t people mind their own business?
CIO (cry-it-out, or the Ferber Method) is a hot-button issue. I didn’t want to use it because I didn’t really feel like hearing Alexa cry for hours, but once I read about it, I realized it was not the cruel and unusual punishment that you always hear about and wanted to give it a try. It worked for us. It is not leaving your child to scream until they pass out. It doesn’t mean I love her less than you love your child who you would NEVER let cry even for a second. It is a method and it works for some. If you think it’s cruel, that’s up to you. But why do you have to try and make other people feel like the devil about it? One commenter wrote to just “Google CIO and brain damage”. How about also Googling “effects of sleep deprivation” on either parents, babies or both.
I chose not to co-sleep (yes, on purpose!) but I have friends who do and love it. I know people who say they can’t stand being poked and prodded while trying to sleep and would never do it again and others who say it is the most special and wonderful thing you can do with your child and would never consider anything else.
Some people can’t breastfeed. They can’t. Really. Even if they sat for 24 hours with a medical-grade pump and YOU cheering them on. (Well not you, but I’m using “you” to mean the fanatical Mamas who have something to say about everything breastfeeding). Or those who adopted and couldn’t induce lactation. Or those who have mastitis or an illness or – gasp! – just don’t want to. Oh my goodness, they are SATAN! These crazy people don’t choose to use a milk bank or do everything humanly possible to get human milk into their baby and opt to use … cover your ears … formula! There are people out there willing to knock down doors to make sure everyone knows that formula is the devil in a can and that it will poison your child and make them a moron. To these people I say what did someone do to you as a child to make you feel the need to be so mean and insensitive to others? Can you simply say “we all know breast is best but if you can’t or choose not to do it, I don’t wish for you to burn in a fiery hell?” Or keep it to yourself. What on earth made you feel so very deeply about this subject that you feel the need to chop people’s heads off if they do things differently? If you’re able to breastfeed and choose to do so, shouldn’t you just be happy for yourself and your baby? Are you trying to win some kind of breastfeeding election or ensure that your tombstone reads “Died En Route to Perfection”?
I went on medication for PPD after the birth of my first child. I stayed on that medication when pregnant with my second child because the benefits to both of us outweighed the risks. Is it ideal to be on meds while pregnant? Of course not. Do you know what I went through? No, because you’re not me. Would I wish it on you or anyone else? No. So why do some people feel the need to judge something they have no idea about? (Side ramble – To me, it’s like being homophobic for no other reason than thinking homosexuals are ”deviants” because they may be different than you – then finding out your son is gay and expresses his deep desire to live his life openly and without fear… so you open your mind because you love your son and since you know he’s not a “deviant” maybe you were wrong.) Sooooooo… unless you have lived with PPD or any other mental illness, go fly a kite before telling me that I’m selfish for “putting my child at risk”. And maybe read some actual medical research, too.
There is no one-size-fits-all. Every child is different. I can already tell you that many of the things I swore by with Ryan I will not find effective with Alexa. Generalizations are not helpful. They only make confused parents feel more lost. We already know that new parents scour books, websites and other sources of information for support and what they’re finding (many times from other Mothers) sends them into an even deeper tailspin -
“CIO is a form of child abuse that will leave your child with pervasive anxiety.”
“If you have PPD, your child won’t be able to bond with you.”
“I would NEVER let my child cry – for even a minute! Letting children cry is cruel.”
“Breastfed babies are smarter than their formula-fed counterparts.”
“My child is ahead of all the milestones because I’m home with him.”
“Co-sleeping is gross and dangerous - how do you ever have sex? Aren’t you afraid of rolling over and killing your baby?”
“It is lazy parenting to formula-feed – why give a baby milk from a cow when you are perfectly capable of making your own?”
“Attachment parenting is the only way to raise a secure child who feels loved.”
UGH. It’s enough to give you a migraine.
How about parenting with love, logic and instinct?
End the Mommy Wars. It’s soooooooo tiring. I think we’re all looking for validation and put others down because of our personal insecurities. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing that makes people feel as vulnerable as being in charge of a tiny human life. I wish we didn’t have all of this literature and just used good old instinct.
Working full-time, staying at home, co-sleeping, CIO, babywearing, formula feeding, homeschooling, time-outs, spanking, 100% organic - we’re all just trying to do our best. Sure, we all have our opinions and we may get into a lively debate from time to time with friends or family members about how we choose to raise our children. It just seems like some people make it their full time job to be on a parenting rampage across the World Wide Web.
And I actually didn’t hate all of the comments - many echoed what I’ve been trying to say, albeit with more clarity. This one was my personal favorite:
From gingerpeachee on Oct 13, 2011 at 7:50 PM
Over-opinionated ridiculous human beings. Seriously. The CIO moms are accusing the AP moms of creating clingy children and the AP mom’s are calling the CIO moms child abusers. Lovely. Parents with small children forget that what you do in the first 3 years of life is not the end all be all of your children. WHO CARES if you made homemade baby food in 10 years? WHO CARES if you had your child on a strict schedule at 2 days old?!?! You think this is going to be some sort of life-altering decision? It’s not.
Maybe kids are growing up and bullying other kids because that is what their parents do to other parents right from the get go. Ever think of that? Open your minds. Forgive the people around you for not being carbon copies of yourself (the fact is YOU are not that perfect).
Amen, gingerpeachee – whoever you are. Amen.
CPSC Recall: B.O.B. Jogging Strollers
NEWS from CPSC and HC
U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission
www.cpsc.gov
Health Canada
www.hc-sc.gc.ca
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
October 11, 2011
Release #12-006
Firm’s Recall Hotline: (855) 242-2245
CPSC Recall Hotline: (800) 638-2772
CPSC Media Contact: (301) 504-7908
HC Media Contact: (613) 957-2983
Jogging Strollers Recalled by B.O.B. Trailers Due to Choking Hazard
WASHINGTON, D.C. – The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission and Health Canada, in cooperation with the firm named below, today announced a voluntary recall of the following consumer product. Consumers should stop using recalled products immediately unless otherwise instructed. It is illegal to resell or attempt to resell a recalled consumer product.
Name of Product: B.O.B.(r) single and double strollers
Units: About 411,700 in the United States and 27,000 in Canada (357,000 units were recalled in February 2011 due to strangulation hazard posed by canopy drawstring)
Importer: B.O.B. Trailers Inc., of Boise, Idaho
Hazard: The stroller canopy’s embroidered logo’s backing patch can detach, posing a choking hazard to babies and young children.
Incidents/Injuries: The firm has received six reports of children mouthing the detached patch. Gagging and choking were reported in two incidents. The backing was removed from the children’s mouth without injury. In each of the reported incidents, the children were seated in an infant car seat attached to the stroller.
Description: This recall involves all B.O.B. strollers manufactured between November 1998 and November 2010. Strollers manufactured after October 2006 have a white label affixed to the back of the stroller’s leg with the manufacturing date. Strollers with no manufacturing date listed were produced prior to October 2006 and are included in this recall. The strollers were sold in single seat and double-seat models. The BOB(r), Ironman(r) or Stroller Strides(r) brand name is embroidered on the canopy of the strollers.
Sold at: REI, Babies R’ Us and other children’s product and sporting goods stores nationwide and Amazon.com between November 1998 and October 2011 for between $280 and $600.
Manufactured in: Taiwan and China
Remedy: Consumers should immediately stop using the recalled strollers until they remove the embroidery backing patch from the interior of the canopy’s logo. Consumers should contact B.O.B. Trailers for instructions on removing the backing.
Consumer Contact: For additional information, contact B.O.B. Trailers toll-free at (855) 242-2245 between 8:30 a.m. and 5 p.m. MT Monday through Friday, or visit the firm’s website at www.bobnotices.com
Note: Health Canada’s press release is available at http://cpsr-rspc.hc-sc.gc.ca/PR-RP/recall-retrait-eng.jsp?re_id=1411
To see this recall on CPSC’s web site, including pictures of the recalled products, please go to: http://www.cpsc.gov/cpscpub/prerel/prhtml12/12006.html
Smells Like Kid Spirit
People say that the interior of your car says a lot about you in terms of pride and personal hygiene.
That’s actually not true, but I bet somebody said this once. Or maybe I said it just now and that’s the first anyone ever heard of it. But if it’s true, I am a prideless slob.
The inside of my car looks like World War III. I know when you have kids it’s expected that crumbs will accumulate and maybe some sticky armrests and fingerprinted windows, but my car is just beyond nasty.
Each day, I do my best to shove some raisins off the mat and into a parking lot or dig some sticky Fig Newton out of a crevice, even going as far as vacuuming once a month, but it’s never enough.
Little back story – towards the end of the summer, we noticed that my car started smelling odd, but we attributed it to being in the hot garage with the trash cans. Yummy. Then, over time, it began smelling worse and worse until it smelled like a Port-a-Potty and it should have been illegal for me to drive in it with kids. I searched high and low, vacuumed it out, kept the windows down at all times and got the number for a detailing place around me. But within a few days the smell diminished somewhat, or maybe I just got used to it because it came roaring back. I planned to get the car detailed, but it kept raining and the place wasn’t open when it rained because it doubled as a car wash.
One day Cory was driving Ryan somewhere when he dropped a ball or something in the car. When Cory eventually searched for it, he reached deep under one of the seats in a recessed area I had never discovered and he pulled out a TWO MONTH OLD BOTTLE OF SOUR MILK. So that was the disgusting culprit. The smell went away shortly after Cory’s discovery. Yay!
We are taking family in the car this weekend on a trip to Philly for a party so I have to get it detailed this week. I’m almost embarrassed to bring the car in in its current state. It’s really beyond vacuuming at this point. I’m also a little sad to see all of the mess gone because it tells a story – a story of snacking and sipping and dropped bottles and raisins and sticky squeezy applesauce and cereal bars and lollipops and pointing out the window at something funny.
Actually, it’s really not all that deep and emotional. If I’m being honest I just don’t feel like being without a car for three hours. I won’t miss the mess at all because it will reappear within three days.
Am I alone in my lack of car hygiene?
What does your car say about you?
One Year
Today – October 1, 2011 – is my 1 year Blogoversary.
Thank you for your well-wishes and looks of sheer pride and amazement. I consider this my greatest life achievement, rivaled only by my sneaking into the MTV Video Music Awards in 2000 and almost winning a Spelling Bee in middle school. But really, this feat deserves some kind of celebration, so I did what anyone would do to celebrate such an occasion. I hired hard-hitting journalist Larry King to interview me on my thoughts about the past year and where I see myself – and the blog – evolving as I look toward the year ahead.
Larry: Congratulations on one year of writing about yourself. How did it all begin?
Dani: Thanks so much, Larry. It’s like free therapy. The blog actually started when I had pneumonia and I was laid up in bed. Well, I didn’t know I had pneumonia yet because I hadn’t seen the doctor. Anyway, I was supremely bored and I really hate doing nothing (unless I’m napping) so I started thinking about something to keep me busy. A few hours later, I figured out how to create a blog site, got myself a domain name and – Voila! – the American Dream was born.
Larry: You know that we’re starting this interview at 9:00 p.m. That means you won’t be able to publish our interview until the next morning if you want a chance in hell of anyone reading it.
Dani: Excuse me, but I hired you because you throw softballs. Stick to what you do best. I don’t plan ahead – it was a wonder I wasn’t late to my own wedding. Also, I was busy watching the Phillies win Game 1 of the NLDS. So I really don’t care if someone reads this on October 1 or 2 as long as the Phillies won. Have you read my About Me section? The Phillies are more important to me than my family or food. Move along, please.
Larry: Alrighty then. So what were your goals when you first started the blog?
Dani: Well, initially I wanted to make some kind of online diary that I could look back on and remember what it was like raising my kids. Then I started getting requests about book lists, parenting techniques, baby products and reader letters asking for advice, so I tried my best to deliver. Then I got lazy and went back to writing about myself. But people still come to read the blog, so either I’m really fascinating or people really, really hate their jobs.
Larry: What were some of your favorite posts and why?
Dani: Interesting question. What pisses me off, Larry, is that although I supplied you with the questions beforehand, you are veering way off track and asking some questions that I am NOT prepared to answer. How am I supposed to remember anything I wrote?
Off the top of my head, I guess the whole series on Sleep Training Alexa was one of them, because it was written in real-time and I got dozens of people writing to me afterwards saying how those posts kept them from giving up on their own sleep training. For Time To Stand Still is a personal favorite – both the message and the images still make me emotional. Guys and Dolls was a Reader Letter that really struck a chord because I had a lot of people tell me they breathed a collective sigh of relief after reading it. Pet Peeve was a lively one because it pissed off a lot of people and had my friends scratching their heads and flipping me off. Finally, the Princessories Launch post wasn’t a great piece of writing, but it made me proud because I could finally stop just TALKING ABOUT starting a business because I actually did it. So, there you go.
Larry: Sorry, I just fell asleep for a minute. Umm… so have you grown or changed at all as a person in the past year?
Dani: I definitely haven’t grown. My doctor said I still stand 5 feet, 4 inches tall. Which is unfortunate, because if I could grow another 3-4 inches, my weight would be distributed a little better and I’d be a real hottie. As far as changing, I no longer have pneumonia. I started a business. My stress levels are through the roof because my daughter scream-cries during car rides and my son is just days away from no longer letting me squeeze his tushy. So I guess you could say things have changed, though I really haven’t changed at all.
Larry: I see. So, for my final question, I’d like to know how you see this blog evolving in the future. For example, where do you see the blog on October 1, 2012?
Dani: Thanks, Lar - I understood the question without the example. I see this blog continuing to thrive, thanks to my loyal and wonderful readers who make me want to write even when I would rather be sleeping. I would also like to see the blog evolve into a human, full-time nanny and do my laundry. If it turned into an ATM, that would be cool, too.
I know you didn’t ask who I would like to thank, but in conclusion, I would like to thank my readers again for being so awesome and for believing in me… although most of them suck at commenting but that’s nothing new. I would also like to thank WordPress for giving me a platform – literally. To my husband for staring at my back while I’m on the computer and cursing me out for doing yet another thing that takes away from “Cory and Dani Time” while fully supporting me and all of my crap. And finally to my children Ryan and Alexa – without you I’d just be writing about the Phillies, reading great books, eating sushi, traveling to faraway places, laying out in the sun, relaxing and sleeping in, acting retired and having stable blood pressure…
Ugh. Maybe I shouldn’t be thanking the children. Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have veered from the script. Screw you, Larry King.
Happy Anniversary to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Oh, and bite me, Larry. I’m posting this at 11:10 p.m., which means it’s still technically October 1st. And no, it didn’t take two hours to write. I had to feign interest in an ongoing conversation that Cory was having with me, so I took some breaks.
Next year I’m interviewing myself.
