Yes I Am. And So Are You

You’ve all seen the cover, even if you don’t know what it’s really about. I don’t even need to include a picture of it because I know you know which one I’m talking about. I’ll admit that I haven’t actually read the cover article on the latest issue of TIME Magazine, and I’m not going to. Maybe I would’ve, if only to know what all the fuss is about, because it’s not like I have anything against attachment parenting or a mother who chooses to breastfeed for X amount of time. But why should I bother wasting my time on a magazine that clearly doesn’t respect my role as a mother and the choices I may or may not make by using a condescending headline like “Are You Mom Enough?”

Am I “mom enough” for what? To carry a life inside my stomach for nine months? Yup. To put another human being’s needs ahead of my own every single day? Check.

Does that sufficiently answer your question, TIME? If not, let me try again. Yes, fuck you very much, I am mom enough. You know who else is too? That chick on your cover, but so are all the moms who aren’t on your cover.

We are mom enough whether we breastfeed for three years, three months, or three hours. And we’re mom enough if we use a bottle and formula to feed our children.

We are mom enough whether we choose to stay at home with our kids or go back into the workforce. And we’re mom enough if our social-economic situation has made that choice for us.

We are mom enough whether we shop at Whole Foods or not; whether we let our kids eat McDonalds or not; whether we give our children sweets or not.

We are mom enough whether our children go to preschool or never set foot in a classroom until their fifth birthday (or later. Or never!).

We are mom enough whether our kids sleep in our beds or their own.

We are mom enough whether we gave birth naturally or by C-section, in a hospital or at home, with or without drugs.

We are mom enough whether our children are ours by birth, adoption, surrogacy, or IVF.

We are mom enough whether we’re 25 or 45, are blonde, brunette or somewhere in between, drive an SUV or a sixteen year old clunker, are more like June Cleaver or Roseanne, eat Granny Smith or Red Delicious apples, or were born on Tuesday or a Saturday.

And do you know why? Because no matter what choices we make throughout the day, we wake up every 

morning and go to bed every night loving our children. Because we strive everyday to provide for our kids and to give them the lives they deserve. Because we work tirelessly to teach them the little things, like how to poop in a toilet or that you shouldn’t stick your fingers in a light socket, and the bigger things, like how to read and write or how to be a kind and compassionate member of society.

One last thing, TIME Magazine. Shame on you for pitting women against other women for no good reason other than to drum up publicity for your cover and fuck you for insinuating that some of us aren’t good enough. Because all of us, every single mother in this world that gives a damn, is mom enough.

Happy Mother’s Day, ladies. You are wonderful, and you are doing an amazing job. Now go have a glass of wine and a bubble bath. You deserve it.

-Alice

P.S. I’m willing to bet that the person responsible for that headline either isn’t a parent or has a dick. Regardless, using a title like that makes you a dick. 

Response to the Dumbest Letter to the Editor Ever

Recently, I came across a letter to the editor in my local newspaper that left me feeling a little twitchy. I considered sending in a response, but then I thought posting about it here would be more cathartic for me. The original author may never read this, but at least I won’t have to keep my word count under fifty because I have a lot more than fifty words to say about this article.

Here’s the lo-down on the original letter: a local mom relayed a “frustrating” experience in which she took her seven year old daughters to the park, and upon finding the playground overrun with toddlers, decided they didn’t want to play there for fear of unintentionally hurting the younger kids. The mom is upset that she had to take them to a different park, and is now requesting that parents of toddlers not let their kids use the city parks that have “for children between five and twelve years old” signs on them because it’s unsafe and disrespectful to the kids that the structures are meant for.

Stupid ideas make animated babies cry.

So to recap, mother and children went to the park, smaller kids were playing at the park; mother wants toddlers banned from parks.

Seriously? I mean...seriously?

I don’t even know where to start. Oh, wait. Yes, I do. Did the mom in question make sure that her children refrained from using city parks until after their fifth birthday?

Or I could lead with this: Aren’t those “for children between the ages of five and twelve” signs meant to serve as a reminder that children under five should have proper adult supervision at all times? And also to cover the city’s ass in the event that a parent is dumb enough to try and sue the city after they’re dumb enough to leave their small child unattended on a slide and someone breaks an arm?

No, actually, I’ll begin with a different scenario. There is a huge difference between the ages of five and twelve. I doubt that most twelve year olds enjoy the thought of playing at a park full of seven year olds, probably for the exact reason that this woman’s seven year old daughters didn’t want to play amongst a group of toddlers – because they’d have to adjust their behaviour, which, in the plainest of terms, means toning their shit down a notch so as to make sure not to pummel someone. Now, if these twelve year olds started campaigning to have those younger than them play at separate parks, wouldn’t that seem ridiculous? Wouldn’t we tell them to get over it and that adjusting your behaviour while in the presence of other children, younger or older, is just part of life? Yes. Yes, we would.

See? Nobody is dead. We can do this!

So what if your kid has to adjust her tactics when playing alongside a four year old, or two year old, or a one month old? Is it a tragedy? No. Is it unfair? Hardly. It’s called learning boundaries, and it’s just part of growing up and being part of a community. I expect my two year old to be mindful of other kids around her, especially when they’re younger than her, so why should someone’s seven year old get a free pass from doing the same thing? Kids and adults exhibit all kinds of behaviours at the park, and a lot of them can be infuriating. Here is what I qualify as a valid frustration: kids pushing each other, parents not supervising their children, an adult creeper, kids bullying other kids, parents bullying other parents, parents bullying children, someone throwing sand, mulch, or stones, or someone poking someone else’s eye out with a stick. Do you know what an invalid frustration would be? SCOFFING AT TODDLERS WHO ARE EXPLORING AND HAVING FUN AND ARE UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF ADULTS.

The woman also mentioned that there are toddler specific structures at parks all around our city. I’d like to point out that I live within walking distance of six parks, only one of which has toddler specific equipment. The only other two I’m aware of are at least a fifteen minute drive from my house. Now, maybe there are a whole slew of these fancy-pants parks with toddler equipment around, but I’m sure that there are a ton of families with kids under five who do not live within walking distance of them. I’m also sure that we can all agree it would be absurd to ask these parents to find and drive to a fancy-pants park every time their kid wants to play outside. Besides, what does this woman expect parents of multiple children to do? If you’ve got one kid that meets the “age requirement” and one that doesn’t, are you supposed to forego trips to the park altogether, or does your younger child have to sit on the grass watching all the big kids play?

I’ll give this mom one thing – she has obviously taught her kids about being respectful towards children younger than them, as demonstrated by their choice not to play on the slides that day for fear of hurting someone else by accident. That’s great; truly, I applaud that. Now what about teaching them about making a choice and living with it? The girls chose not to play while the toddlers were on the playground. They could have played anyway and simply adjusted their behaviour, but they chose not to and I doubt that anybody forced them to make that decision. Same as nobody forced the mother to take her kids to another park; they very well could have found something else to do until the toddlers were done. The mother could’ve suggested the girls play tag, have a picnic, have a handstand contest, pick flowers- shall I continue? Nobody forced her kids to not play on the playground and nobody forced her to take them somewhere else, so she should stop acting like that’s what happened and stop trying to force toddlers to go elsewhere as well.

Quite frankly, as long as my daughter has adult supervision, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be allowed on a “non-toddler specific” park. Kids aren’t in danger of getting hurt simply because there is someone bigger or older around. They’re in danger when someone is acting like a jackass, no matter what their age. A two year old can accidentally hurt another two year old just as easily as a seven year old could, and a seven year old can injure another seven year old just as easily as they could someone smaller. I understand that having an adult around doesn’t eliminate the risk, but it’s the best chance at minimizing it, and that’s pretty much all you can ask for. Banning one age or another from a playground isn’t going to necessarily keep anyone safe, so let’s just focus on teaching our children to learn some boundaries and respect each other, and hope for the best.

-Alice

P.S. I know that this was my longest rant to date, but it was either write a two page letter on my blog or track this woman down and smack-attack the bitch. 

Why I'm Not Afraid to Say I Wanted a Girl

I have always wanted daughters. When I was little, I planned on having a brood of my own girls – mostly just because I had so many female names that I loved, but also because I couldn’t wait to put them in frilly clothes and give them my old My Little Pony dolls. Finding out that Thumper was a girl was pure joy; it wasn't just that I got what I wanted, but it felt like a safety net. If all of my other maternal instincts failed, at least the girly-girl in me would know how to dress her.

So how did I react upon finding out that I’m about to have a son?

In the first months of this pregnancy, the possibility of having a boy wasn't as distressing. I knew that having a boy wouldn’t feel like a death sentence and that obviously the baby would be loved no matter what, but I still anticipated a girl. There's already an abundance of pink clothing, toys, and accessories in our house, and Dawson and I had a girl’s name picked out long before conception. In wanting another girl, we came to expect it. So yes, when the ultra sound tech confirmed that there was no fagina this time, I was clearly disappointed. And in a culture where I think most people feel ashamed to say they are hoping for one gender or another, I’m not afraid to say so. Why should I be?

It’s not that different from any other dream we have for ourselves or our children. A father might dream that his son grows up to be a doctor, or an athlete, or take over the family business. If that’s not what ends up happening, the parent is allowed to feel disappointment – not disappointment in the child himself, but in the death of the dream, of what you always assumed or expected or hoped would happen. And as long as the father continues to support whatever career choice the son makes, then he should be entitled to his feelings. Our feelings are our own; we have a right to them, and a right to express them in a healthy way. Sometimes, that just means being able to say, “I wanted (blank) to happen,” and then cry about it for a few days. 

The phrase “as long as the baby is healthy” gets thrown around a lot during the gender debate. I get that some parents genuinely don’t have a gender preference, and that’s cool. I also understand that for those who have had a hard time conceiving, the gender is insignificant compared to the simple miracle of having a baby of either sex, and I certainly respect that. It’s the people who use the “as long as it’s healthy” line to practically scold me for having a preference that make me laugh. Of course I want a healthy baby; isn’t that a given? Nobody wants a new car and hopes it will come with a smashed-up bumper, or goes to the store for carrots and purposefully buys the rotten bag. Everybody wants a healthy baby. It’s just that some people hope, for various reasons, that their healthy baby will be a healthy girl, or perhaps a healthy boy.

It’s okay to want one or the other. There is a big difference between hoping for one gender and regretting having had the opposite of what you wanted. As long as you can get over your upset eventually, and the parent-child relationship isn’t negatively impacted by those feelings, there is nothing wrong with allowing yourself some time to be disappointed.

My initial upset wasn’t over the fact that I don’t want a son. It was merely about mourning the end of the dream I held onto for so long. And if my son reads this one day, that’ll be fine. It won’t matter what I wanted once upon a time, because he will know that I have and will always love him as fiercely as his sister, even if he hates My Little Ponies.

-Alice