Motherhood Uncensored

Kid leashes, spanking, and other things that bring out my inner Sanctimommy

Awhile back I wrote a post about how we all judge other moms. We're human after all. At least, I am, anyway, and while some of us don't have as many parenting dealbreakers than others of us, I'm pretty sure we all have at least one thing that parents do that makes us raise our eyebrows.

I have five. Maybe six.

I told you I was human.

I'll probably never change my mind about kid leashes, although I can understand in some circumstances (kids with special needs, mostly) where some parents might use them.

{I still just really don't like them}

And I still stand firm that a baby should never be on a bar. Like literally on top of it.

But mostly, I just believe that regardless of the things that make us judge others, we really need to not give a shit what other people think.

And not be so surprised or thin-skinned when something we do that might be a little controversial pisses people off.

Thanks for joining me, Illana!

Trayvon Martin is my son.

Maybe it's because I'm more informed and connected than I ever was as a young 20-something student, attending a mostly-female, mostly-white college.

It probably wasn't as mostly-straight as I thought at the time.

Or perhaps it's because I have children now, and the thought of my girls growing up and somehow being paid less or treated worse than my son turns my hands into fists.

And raises my middle finger up from my palm.

But the older I get, the angrier I am about the inequalities in our world.

Even then they'll be more privileged than many of their peers, never even having to endure the prejudice, discrimination, and hate that is in store for the little girls in their ballet class.

The boys on my son's baseball team.

As much as I appreciate the candor from my friends of color, my gay and lesbian counterparts in real life and on the web, as well as my strong feminist collegaues, it's not enough.

It will never be enough.

It's the voices of the majority, the privileged many, who need to be talking about these issues. You (We) are the ones who need to be beating these problems into the ground, especially those of us (almost all of us these days) with a public forum.

It shouldn't just be our black friends ranting about the Trayvon Martin case, and racial profiling, and all the 4000 myriad issues they encounter on a minute-by-minute basis.

Why is it just the LGBT community who should complain about why many of them cannot still be married or even adopt children in this country? Why they are not afforded the rights of other families?

And we need men screaming with women about inequality, biting back about the "mommy wars," and demanding better for our girls.

Don't pawn these issues off onto someone else, somehow thinking that they don't apply to you. We can pass by or click away, perhaps applauding first, or reading, maybe liking, even commenting before we move on. 

But if you've got kids, that's not enough.

It will never be enough.

These issues should weigh just as heavily on your mind as they do for Kelly and Heather, for Deb, for Joanne and Liz. For the many other warriors I read on a daily basis.

White people can rant. I know straight people can bitch. And the last time I checked, boxers burn just as well as bras.

Lest we all forget, Trayvon is my son.

And he's yours too.

My vagina is a badass

I've done plenty of oversharing when it comes to the post-partum vagina. In fact, I'm the #1 natural Google Search for "post partum vagina."

My mom would be so proud.

I admit I've expressed my disgruntlement with the changes that happen to it after having a baby, though contrary to what you might have inferred from my posts, my vagina was not ruined by childbirth. 

My asshole. Well, that's a different story.

Indeed, it's a bit depressing when you're convinced that your favorite tampon company somehow changed their design because you can't seem to keep them in. 

That's why they made the Clitoris. Kegels. And the Diva Cup. (Or so I'm told). 

But look, if dudes had babies, we would never heard the end of it. They'd be talking about how big their vagina stretched over Thanksgiving Dinner, and comparing c-section scars at a work dinner party. 

'Vacuum? They had to use the forceps!" Cue hi-fives and fist bumps.

There would t-shirts and bumper stickers.

"My vagina can kick your vagina's ass."

We would never hear the end of how amazing they are.

But unfortunately that's not the case, and society does everything it can to make the evidence of childbirth on women disappear. 

Perky boobs, perfect skin, thin hips.

And so we do our best to follow suit, buying all sorts of stretch mark lotions, body slimmers, and push-up bras because we're programmed to believe that it's sexy to not look like you've had kids. 

But just because women give birth every day doesn't discount how fucking unbelievable it is. 

The ugly c-section scars. The streaky red stretch marks. 

The vagina that might not be as tight as it used to be. 

When you think about it, we've got nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, we should be pretty fucking proud of what we've accomplished. 

I don't think we'll de-program people anytime soon. And I do like to keep my stretched-out bubble gum nipples firmly tucked in a slightly padded bra. 

And my ass in Spanx every now and then. 

So when I hear about how badass some people are for jumping out of planes and hang-gliding off cliffs, I just remind myself that I had four babies. 

Yeah, my vagina. Total badass. 

I'm a survivor mom.

It only took me four kids to realize that my kids would be better off if I gave myself the same time and attention I give them. 

Of course, that's never actually going to happen. There are always piles of laundry to fold and mounds of dishes to wash. 

And I will always give them their dinner first before I feed myself. 

It's just programmed into my brain. 

But I've gotten a lot better about letting certain things go, things that won't make a huge difference to their health, well-being, and happiness, but will make my life a little easier and more enjoyable. 

You'll find no shortage of parenting books that will tell you how to best raise your kids -- the Tiger Moms, French Moms, Helicopter Moms. But here are my Survivor Mom tips for how to just make it through your days with a bit more sanity in tact. 

This is my favorite show I've done so far. Thanks to my awesome guests Nellie and Jen Singer. 

The dos and don'ts of giving advice to new parents

As much as I'm tempted to dole out advice to newbie parents, and oh yes, I am mightily tempted, I do my best to hold my tongue. 

I wish I could say the same about my mother-in-law. 

I mean, I totally understand the urge that many moms, including me, have to share their experience and been-there-done-that knowledge.

I made my fair share of embarrassing bumbles and blunders, like the time I took my oldest to the ER at Christmas with a low grade fever, and would have benefited from the helpful advice of seasoned parents.

Instead, I just got my Mother-in-law's judgmental "You're going to feed her from your what?" assvice.

I'm actually all for giving advice, when it's asked for and sometimes when it's unsolicited, but there's definitely a formula for giving it to new parents so that it doesn't end up sounding like smug assvice. 

Some examples:

a) An adorable couple with a wee one in a Bjorn, who just spent the entire time in the security line trying to figure out whether they had to take the baby out of the carrier to go through the x-ray machine. 

Do try empathy and humor.

"Yes, unfortunately you do. It's such a pain. But at least you can leave their shoes on now!" 

Don't make them look like the complete idiots that they are.

"Well, considering you have to take off your belt and remove all the change from your pockets, it's pretty obvious that your baby is going to have to come off too." 

b) The couple debating where to change their toddler's diaper -- the floor at the gate or the bathroom changing table. 

Do speak from your own experience, and give them encouragement for their smart thinking.

"Whatever's easiest! Either one is way better than changing it on the plane, that's for sure."

Don't scold them for wasting so much time on something so fucking stupid. 

"It's a diaper change for God sakes. Not the 2012 Presidential election or World Hunger."

c) My sister-in-law who scurried around after me with a new bib after I told her that the baby had a little spit-up. 

Do downplay the need for action, modeling laidback parenting behavior. 

"Eh, it's no big deal. A little bit of spit-up never hurt anyone."

Don't prey on their naivete with evil threats

"You're getting worked up over a bib? I'm pretty sure I could do a few things to this baby to really get you to run."

d) A mom with a puke-ish son, trying to figure out what to give him so she can get the hell out of her in-laws house. 

Do talk her down from the ledge with the obvious facts.

"You know, he had Advil on an empty stomach. He might just need a little food and something bubbly."

Don't offer her expired Coca Cola syrup from 1965 for his upset stomach.

"Well, I guess you know best. But it helped us when we had the heaves."

There's a fine line people. Walk it carefully. With love and gentility. 

Then feel free to make fun of them on your blog.