Once upon a time, my little Boss Lady was deeply enamoured of her Daddy. She cried if he left the room without her and she demanded her cuddles within seconds of his return. That made it relatively easy to get away when I needed a little break (which usually meant going on a grocery run). I knew the real separation anxiety phase was right around the corner, but I figured her dad and I would bear that burden equally.
That thought has crossed my mind semi-regularly over the past 18 months. It generally hits me in the wee hours of the morning, when my (feverish/teething/lonely) daughter is crying out for me for the umpteenth time and I’m reaching for the scraps of energy that will allow me to propel myself out of my warm bed once again. It’s been ringing in my head much more frequently since I heard the story of Crystal Dennis, who gave birth to her daughter at Curepe Junction at around 4am on June 2nd. Turns out it can get much lonelier.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the geography of Trinidad, I’m just going to pause here to explain that — although (as noted by a particularly astute friend of mine) Curepe Junction now has a flawless maternity record — it may just be the worst place to give birth ever, what with the vermin, refuse and, you know, traffic.
My daughter eats at least two servings of fruit per day. Her dietary staples also include brown rice, sweet potatoes, pumpkin, lentils and red beans (neither of which come from a can). I make these things in big batches throughout the week and freeze them in easy-to-serve portion sizes.
Meanwhile, I eat whatever is easiest to throw together or pick up on the go. It’s not unusual for me to put her to bed at 8pm, organize her super-healthy meals for the next day and then pop some popcorn for myself for dinner. The only real meal I eat regularly is breakfast (a scrambled egg, toast and coffee… which I can usually finish before she starts scaling the furniture) and the only fruits I eat tend to be samples of whatever I’m cutting up for tomorrow’s snacks. Continue reading “Living On the Back Burner”→
If not, I’d like to introduce you to Professor Sydney Engelberg. He teaches an Organizational Behavior class at Jerusalem’s Hebrew University. That baby he’s holding? Not his. Nor is he a prop illustrating Social Identity Theory (whatever that is). Rather, that baby belongs to one of Engelberg’s students. He started crying during the class (as babies do) and — as the mother was preparing to leave — the professor took the baby, calmed him down and continued teaching the class.
Nothing causes internet controversy like parenting choices, especially when they don’t conform to everyone’s definition of “acceptable” parenting. Obviously, it’s impossible to satisfy everyone with every choice, but anything mildly unorthodox is bound to bring down fire and brimstone, even if, deep down inside, everyone knows they’ve been there a time or two. Continue reading “Shameless Parenting”→