On liberating ourselves from worrying about our kids
My kids are perfect the way they are. Every parent says this — well, maybe not every, but enough. We might even believe it when we say it (or a part of us does). But the same parent worries, too: my children aren’t getting enough to really develop into their full potential. I’m not doing enough to give them the best start in life.
Breastfeeding moms rejoice: drinking coffee isn’t going to mess up your baby’s sleep
I remember spending HOURS Googling many variations of “If I drink coffee will my breastfed baby be hopped up on caffeinie?” when my son was an infant. I’m not even exaggerating — hours and hours and hours. I was worried that my son would turn into a coffee-addicted person before his time (because face it: in our family, it’s bound to happen) and convinced that his less-than-stellar sleeping skills were because I drank coffee 8 hours before I nursed him.
How do you maintain career momentum after parenthood?
Kids are definitely in the cards for my partner and I, but so is having a career. My mother worked all through my childhood, and I think it had a great influence on my sister and I, so I know working parents are good parents. But my mother worked for the government and I work in the creative industries, putting in 14 hour days and having maybe one or two weekends off a month. I see almost no women in the more senior positions in my industry, and those that do don’t have kids.
Why are moms so hesitant to view their male partners as full, competent parents?
The first time it happened, I was at a Mothers of Multiples Club welcome brunch. My fantasy was that my terror of the impending birth of my twins would dissipate as soon as I met the wise kindred spirits who would be guiding me through the transition to multiple-motherhood. Much to my surprise, however, brunch soon descended into a partner-bashing session, replete with the kind of ominous warnings I would receive over and over during my pregnancy.
5 ways being a parent is like being in a 24/7 mosh pit
Five years ago I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day at a Dropkick Murphys show. I was 36 weeks pregnant with my daughter, and thanks to pregnancy boobs and some very nice bouncers I was allowed to sit behind the bar to sip ginger ale and munch on soda crackers while I watched the show. This past weekend I once again celebrated St. Patrick’s Day at a Dropkick Murphys show and the experience was somewhat different. Instead of being on the sidelines watching and thinking about what I would do if I were on the floor, I was there in the thick of it — jumping, singing, being loud and rowdy. It was fantastic.
What NOT to say to someone struggling with infertility
At the grocery store today, I was browsing the “family planning” section. Of course, there are the things that help prevent pregnancy, but I was obviously looking at the things to help promote pregnancy. As I was reading the back of every box of “ovulation predictors” and trying to decide which was the best one, a female employee that was probably in her later 30s came up to see if I needed any help.
My 5-year-old cut off my hair and learned about what beauty really is
My daughter, Olivia, came home from her preschool and announced she needed to have long hair to be “pretty” and it wouldn’t hurt if I could put her in a dress for school. Initially I didn’t think much of that comment, but it bothered me. So I shaved my head to show her that prettiness wasn’t about long hair.
Sex Ed and the four-year-old
One summer evening, I piled the kids into the car for a pre-bed ice cream run. As we’re waiting in an impossibly long drive thru line, my 4 year old pipes up from the backseat, “Mommy, turn this music down. I need to talk about things.”
I cooperate and turn the radio off, asking what she wants to talk about.
“Let’s talk about babies.”