Equality

Yesterday, on the Bringing Up Squid Facebook page, I posted the the following:

 Whenever we are out in public and someone makes a comment about Squid's future boyfriends or husband, we always make sure to say, "Or girlfriend or wife." We've received some strange looks, some laughter, and some mild chiding... "Oh, don't say things like that. You're going to want grandkids some day."

I don't care where on the Kinsey scale Squid's sexual orientation falls. I want her to be in a happy, healthy relationship. Or to find happiness on her own. But, should she choose to marry some day, I hope that it is a legally binding marriage that bestows all the rights and responsibilities a couple deserves.

I'm working today, but keeping on eye on what's going on in Washington as the Supreme Court is hearing the Prop 8 case. My heart is with all these people, especially the families whose legal status is in limbo, waiting for 9 people to make a decision that will have such a deep impact on them.

When I was still nursing Squid, I spent an way too many hours watching TV. It seemed that most of my day was spent watching Netflix. To make myself feel better about watching so much television, I started watching documentaries. One of those documentaries was For the Bible Tells Me So, a film that interviews five Christian families who have a homosexual child.

One of the mothers disowned her daughter when she came out. Her daughter ended up committing suicide. I sat there, holding my newborn little girl, trying to imagine any scenario that would cause me to disown her. I couldn't imagine telling my daughter that she was not part of the family simply because she loved differently than I did. I sat and rocked her with tears streaming down my face. I'm sure hormones played a part, but I was truly shaken by the words the mother had written to her own daughter.

Granted, I am a liberal with many LGBT friends. I have grown up around gays and lesbians and transgendered folk. And Squid will grow up around many same-sexed couples, seeing that love has no boundaries. Maybe she will find love with another man. Maybe another woman. Maybe both or neither. But I do want her to know that she is loved and accepted for who she is, by her immediate family and by her extended family of people who love her simply because they know her. 

I really do hope that by the time she is considering marriage, we will be over this archaic nonsense defining marriage by sexual organs. I know that I am doing my best to do my part.

Geekiness, Level II - ACHIEVED!

Previously, I have blogged about our evening ritual. Every night, before bed, Squid and the parent du jour (or would that be parent du nuit?) snuggle and watch an episode of Star Trek. We've been doing this for a little over a year now, nearly every night. I don't think either of us had realized how much of an impact this ritual has on our little girl.

She hums along with the theme song, too!

In addition, we watch ASL signing videos with her, teaching her some simple signs to make communication with a toddler less stressful. These are wonderful videos, with fun songs. She absolutely loves them and has picked up quite a vocabulary.

Trust me. There's a reason I mention the signing.

The last couple of days, in the evening, she has decided that we are too slow and not getting the nighttime ritual going early enough for her. Squid goes to her room, pulls a blanket and a pacifier through the bars on her crib, drags them to the living room, and climbs up into the recliner. If we have not gotten the hint by then, she makes the ASL sign for "stars". And hands us the remote. "Stars". Remote for turning on the tv. Must be time for Star Trek. Now, if we could only teach her to differentiate which series she wants to watch.

Night of the Living Parents

I mean to post more. But it's been a stressful, hectic time in the Ivey household. We've been working overtime, juggling schedules because of babysitting issues, dealing with minor illnesses, and dealing with general toddlerhood.

To make it all so much more fun, Squid has decided sleep is for sissies. We're not exactly sure what the issue is, but she wakes up like clockwork at 1 a.m. and again at 5 a.m. nearly every morning. It may be the molars that are taking their sweet fricking time coming in. It might be a cold. It could be all the thinking she's doing, learning so much every day at such a rapid rate.

Whatever it is, she wakes up screaming bloody murder and won't fall asleep unless we're holding her. Needless to say, nobody's sleeping much.

So, one of us gets up and rocks her back to sleep, often falling asleep as well. We have tried a variety of methods to get her to sleep and stay asleep. I even asked the doctor about melatonin (she said no). Nothing works. She wants to be held.

A friend remarked on how she really doesn't miss those days with her children. And I don't blame her. But....

As tired as I am, as much as I would love a full night's sleep, as aggravated as I get that I have the one child who can't sleep through the night at nearly two.... there's a moment of bliss when she quiets down as soon as I lift her from the crib. When she wraps her arms around my neck and snuggles against me, as if Mommy is the only one who can drive the demons away and make everything better. When she so easily falls asleep in my arms, yet wakes up the instant she senses I am putting her back in her crib.

I'm not going to pretend that I am as enlightened at 1 a.m. I'm generally tired and often a bit crabby. But, I do try to remember that this is temporary, that one day I won't have a baby who needs mommy or daddy snuggles to fall asleep. That, if I do my job right, one day she will barely need me at all.

So, I pray that these damn teeth come in soon, that this physical or mental growth spurt passes quickly without incident, that tonight is the night she decides to sleep straight through. But, if I am awake at 1 a.m., rocking a whimpering baby, I hope to cherish that one moment of peace that comes in the still of the night.

Still alive

I know... I've been quiet this past week. I've been working some overtime and the plague visited our home for a few days. I am forever indebted to Aunt Kris for letting Squid spend the night one night so I could get some rest. Now, I am trying my best to get caught up on life, so the blog has had to sit on the backburner.

Squid has not slowed down, however. She's as active and goofy as always. The "terrible twos" are in full force already. She has lost pretty much all of her limited vocabulary, save the word "NO!"

This morning, she was playing with one of her phones (an antiquated BlackBerry with the battery and memory removed). She was chattering away when she handed Daddy the phone. Dutiful Daddy answered the phone, just like anyone does when handed a phone by a toddler.

"Hello? Oh, hi. Yes, this is Squid's daddy. I just got off work and I'm spending some time with Mommy and Squid before I head off to bed. Yes, Squid is right here. Let me get her."

He holds out the phone to a waiting Squid and says, "Do you want to talk to your friend?" She looks at him, looks at the phone, shakes her head and says, matter-of-factly, "No." Then walks away.

Moments later she was babbling excitedly into the phone, presumably to another "friend", cattily complaining about the loser friend who keeps calling at all hours and can't take a hint.

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The Bringing Up Squid FaceBook page now has 50 likes! We'll be running a giveaway for a ThinkGeek gift certificate. You know you want one. Check out the page for details, which will be posted as soon as I can get them there!

Can We Please Give the Mommies a Break?

Even Daleks approve of baby-wearing.

When Squid was about 10 months old, I took her into a convenience store to grab a drink and a snack. At the time, she wasn't walking, so she would still allow me to wear her in a sling. The cashier oohed and aahed over my adorable baby girl and complimented me on baby-wearing. I smiled and said thank you and tried to pay for my items. But the cashier went on....

"I'll bet you breastfeed, too. All the people I know who wear their babies breastfeed for a long time."

I was a bit shocked. Not really used to having strangers ask what I do with my breasts. Not sober, at least. I stumbled a bit, then replied, "Ummm... No. We tried, but it didn't work out too well for us, so we had to switch to formula." And, once again, I believed that would be the end of the discussion. I would pay for my frickin' Powerade and be on my merry way.

The cashier had other ideas. She was appalled that I wasn't breastfeeding. Didn't I know that it was best for baby (you know, in case I missed all that at the hospital and doctor's offices)? Did I really try hard enough? You know, everyone can breastfeed if they try hard enough. Aren't I worried about the long-term consequences of not breastfeeding?

Looking back, I wish I had not been so polite. I wish I would have told the lady that it was none of her fucking business and to let me raise my child as best as I could. My only defense is that I was shocked that a complete stranger had the gall to ask me such personal questions. I clumsily answered as best as I could, paid for my stuff, and walked home and cried.

Mommies can't win. If we don't breastfeed, we're jeopardizing their health. If we breastfeed longer than society feels is appropriate, we are causing irreparable mental damage. If we wear our baby in a sling, we are spoiling her. If we put her in a stroller, we are inattentive. We receive judgment and criticism for everything we do and are quickly taught not to trust our own instincts in raising our own children.

Last year, Time ran an article about attachment parenting with a mother breastfeeding a 3-year-old on the cover and it started a major brouhaha. People on all sides suddenly had serious opinions on the issue and most were brutal. There was a lot of criticism over extended breastfeeding. Many women felt even more pressure to do things exactly right, or risk ruining their child forever.




Some women on Facebook cut through all the BS.


Greg and I practice our own modified version of attachment parenting. Squid slept in our room until she was too big for the co-sleeper. We considered letting her sleep in the bed, but Greg has sleep apnea and uses a CPAP at night. Plus, Squirmy Baby giggles every time the bed bounces. Even in her sleep.

I wore her nearly everywhere for the first year. Once she outgrew the Moby, we switched to a sling. And once she started walking.... well, Squirmy Baby won't stay in the sling for long, unless she's sleepy.

I received criticism from well-meaning people for both choices. And for picking her up every time she cried for the first several months. I was spoiling her. I was going to make her clingy. She would never learn to walk if I carried her (because babies in strollers learn so much about walking). I kept doing what I was doing because it felt right to me. I never judged those who did things differently, although I was happy to tell people why I did what I did. I even had one friend who said he and his wife would most likely get a bassinette with the next baby, since his wife had trouble sleeping with the baby in another room for the first couple of months. Co-sleeping seemed to hippy-like to him until I explained the benefits.

Now I have a very social, extremely active toddler. I like to think it's because of what I have done, but the fact is that she might have turned out this way regardless of what parenting style we chose. I think, in the end, she is generally friendly and happy because she has two parents who love her immensely and who want her to be happy, healthy, and well-adjusted. We do our best. We are generally flying blind. We are blessed with a variety of friends who are raising/have raised great kids using a all sorts of techniques.

And that's all any mommy or daddy can do. We do what we can. We screw up. We try to fix it. We screw up again. And at the end of the day, we hope for the best. I'm not screwing up my child because I carried her everywhere, but still fed her formula. I'm pretty sure pics like these are what's going to screw her up later on:

Mommy played The Dead Milkmen to me in utero.

The Great Barbie Debate

The other day, a friend's daughter told me that she was excited that one of her friends from school was coming over to play the following day. I asked her what they were going to do, and she replied, without hesitation, "I don't know yet. I don't have any Barbies, so we can't do that."

Aaaahhh... The Barbie Dilemma. While I cannot speak for my friend regarding the reasons her daughter has no Barbie dolls, I know many parents who have not allowed them into their homes. For years, while I dreamt of having my own offspring, I also struggled with the idea of Barbie. After all, I am a feminist, and I am well-aware of all the evil Barbie has brought into the lives of impressionable young girls. I have been inundated with magazine articles and blog posts over the years, all warning that every little girl who plays with Barbie will become anorexic and obsessed with shoes. Then Mattel does something stupid on occasion, such as making a talking Barbie say, "Math class is tough!", thus proving that Barbie is the spawn of a patriarchal Satan.

I don't want my daughter to be anorexic. And I don't want her to become obsessed with material goods. She doesn't need a Malibu Mansion or a corvette or a pet tiger. And I really don't want her thinking that math class is tough. But.....

Barbie was a frickin' ASTRONAUT! Tough or not, she had to pass math courses to get her ass into space. And before that, she was a nurse! She's been a teacher, a businesswoman, a veterinarian, a paleontologist, and a photographer. She has served in all of the armed forces and she has cos-played most of the main heroines and villains of both DC and Marvel. Since the beginning, Barbie has held a career. She doesn't need useless Ken (with his limited wardrobe) to support her. It's Barbie's Malibu Dream House. She pays the mortgage. And the car payment for that 'Vette, as well.

Young girls in the early 60s often didn't see a lot of hope for their futures. They may go to college. They may have a "career". Then they would get married and settle down and raise some kids. Barbie knew no boundaries. The first astronaut Barbie came on scene EIGHTEEN YEARS before we finally put a woman in space (in the USA, at least). Barbie could be absolutely everything, and look fabulous doing so.

Yes, I know she's not proportionate. Her waist is too small and her boobs are too big. But I still think that is a bigger issue with adults than it is with the kids playing with her. I never once looked at Barbie and thought, "I wish I was tall, skinny, and blond like her." I remember thinking, "I can be a US Ambassador!" I was never one for playing house with my dolls. I have few memories of pretending to be a mommy. I do remember pretending to be a schoolteacher or a nurse or a pilot, and using my dolls as props in those scenarios. Which may be why Barbie always appealed to me. Barbie was all of those things and more, and far more portable than the multitude of boxes and stuffed animals needed to produce a passable reenactment.

Squid is too young for Barbie right now. She'd end up choking on a plastic shoe. But I will most likely allow her to have one or five. And we will have discussions on beauty and how models are not healthy. And we will also have many, many discussions about how material goods cannot bring you long-term joy. But, most importantly, we will discuss how she is capable of achieving anything she wants, regardless of societal pressures and misconceptions. She can even be a frickin' astronaut.

Happy Valentine's Day

As I write this blog, hubby is out running errands and Squid is sleeping. I am enjoying some Mega Stuf Oreos (really, why isn't this the standard? or, at the very least, double stuf can be the standard and the regular ones can be "light") and waiting on laundry to finish. Isn't it romantic?

Earlier, on my personal facebook page, I posted a link to this video:







I love They Might Be Giants. Have since I was a kid. And they have some pretty spectacular kids' albums out, so I can share them with the Squid.

But, you know how when you fall in love, a song you have heard a million times takes on a whole new meaning? It's as though you have been let into some secret society and now you understand the inherent mystery of those lyrics.

The first time I heard this song after Squid was born, that's how I felt. I actually cried. Well, that may have been hormones. But, I felt as though I understood more to the song than the quirky lyrics originally let on. I understood that concept of having all the air removed, because I often felt that way when I looked at her.

No, my little girl isn't always angelic. There's quite a bit of devil in her grin (she gets that from Daddy). But, she is as close to heaven as this Atheist Pagany-type is ever going to get. Happy Valentine's Day, Squid.