My friend, Nadine, moved to Seattle a few years ago. She’s going to launch a new business soon featuring organic baby and children’s products. (When she does, I’ll be sure to include a link to her site here.) She wanted me to know, though, that just because she’s moved to the West Coast and is talking up organic stuff, that she isn’t really one of “those.” But then she had to admit that maybe she is, after all, and I had to admit that so am I, kinda sorta maybe….
When F was about 6 months old, I realized that breastfeeding was not working. I had tried and tried, but I never produced more than a few drops. I had had to supplement with formula from the start, so after a while it became clear that I was wasting everyone’s time by insisting that the little guy try to get those few drops of breast milk before getting his bottle of formula. I was shocked at how hard it was to wave the white flag, but I felt slightly better once I discovered that Similac makes an organic formula.
When it was time to introduce baby food, we decided to try to stick to organic foods as much as possible, too. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not sure how much good it does to eat organically. Someday we will either look like a visionary parents or a total suckers to a great marketing ploy. Or maybe something in between.
Take orange juice, for example. There is some BRILLIANT marketing. I have pre-diabetes (if I don’t watch my diet), I have a diabetic father and grandmother, and D has diabetes in his family, too, so I’m very aware of the adverse affect of certain foods on blood sugar levels. Juice is one of the worst offenders. Drinking juice is like mainlining sugar. When you create orange juice, you take a healthy (within reason) food, squeeze out all sugary liquid, and toss out the best part of the fruit–the fibery flesh.
Back in the 70s, the orange growers hired an advertising agency to create a campaign to increase orange juice sales, and boy did they ever get their money’s worth. It’s really hard to have a conversation about juice with a juicer. (And no no no, please, JUICERS please don’t flip out. I’m not talking about whatever it is you all do with the carrots and 12 other vegetables in your blenders. I have no idea what that is all about and what the health benefits/consequences are. Juice on, if it works for you, juice on.) We don’t give F juice of any kind, not orange, apple, or grape. I’ve had people recoil in shock when I’ve refused an offered juice box. I’ve been asked, “But how will he ever get his vitamin C?” Ummmmmm, maybe by EATING an orange? But the perception that orange juice is a healthy drink is totally ingrained in a lot of people.
I attended a pig roast once, an admittedly very strange sort of party for a girl who did not eat meat for 25 years to attend. (I’ve always eaten fish, so no, I was never a vegetarian. I do now eat chicken and turkey, but I still don’t eat beef or pork.) Anyway, sitting next to the unfortunate nominal guest of honor was a man with a pocket knife cutting big, dripping slabs of fat off the roasting-on-a-spit honoree, Porky. He was bare-chested and pot-bellied (the human, not the pig), was sweating and breathing laboriously (on a relatively mild day), and had pig fat dripping from his lips, down his chin, and onto aforementioned bare chest and pot belly. As I struggled not to run screaming from the sight, he hacked off another huge piece of pig and offered it to me. I was able to stammer out, “No thanks. I don’t eat meat.” He looked at me as if I had just announced that I was there from PETA, curled his greasy lip in derision and said, “You don’t eat meat? How do you expect to be healthy?”
Not that I’m the picture of health…far from it. I probably had a cigarette hanging from my mouth and a beer in my hand while I was being all judgy-wudgy with Mr. Porky Man there. And I’ve always fought the battle of the bulge, and I usually lose. So, I guess not eating meat and trying to eat organically is hedging my bets, at best. Who knows if it’s worth the extra money and effort, but maybe, just maybe…
It’s the same thinking that leads me, a total atheist, to say the Act of Contrition before I get on a plane. I’m certain god doesn’t exist, at least not the floaty, bearded man in the sky god, but shit, it’s hard to escape 11 years of catholic school…so I hedge my bets. And just in case, I also ask Buddha, Jove, Mother Earth, Father Time, Eva Peron, and Joseph Smith to keep an eye on the plane, too, because I’m an ecumenical atheist.
The Little Guy has not had beef or pork at all. He used to eat chicken and turkey baby food, but now he won’t touch chicken or turkey, either. He loves yogurt, humus, fish sticks, mac and cheese, and veggie sticks. That about sums it up! Eggs–nope. Neither will his dad.
I don’t want to raise a picky eater, and being from an Irish-American family, I know some drastic picky eaters. I didn’t eat Chinese food until college, because no one in my family ever ate it. I never had sushi, Indian food, Mexican food, or anything like that until I moved to NYC in 1986 and met some more adventurous eaters.
But I want to give him the healthiest start I can, and I also want him to make his own choices when he’s old enough to decide for himself about what and how he’ll eat. Until then, thank goodness for the popularity of organic foods!
Next time: ??
© Copyright 2013 grayhairedmom.com
Happy birthday Addie! We love you and the card is in the mail!
I read a lot of Mother’s Day blogs and articles online yesterday, and one article was about the pressure to be the perfect mom. Moms are not even willing to admit to the every day silly mistakes that all parents make anymore, because no mom wants to expose herself to the criticism and scorn from the other “perfect” parents. Back in the day, you could screw up occasionally and admit it without fear of universal revulsion and maybe even a visit from child protective services. (I’m not talking about abusing a child here. More like, if you happened to come home from the pizza parlor one kid short of a full deck of kids, well, it was the 70s, times were different, and you know, it was all fine in the end. At least there was more pizza for the other 5 kids, right?)
In a decade long, long ago….at the end of a family road trip, we kids thought it would be hilarious to hide my cousin in the back seat of the family Dodge Rambler by making him lie on the floor and covering him with a blanket. Then, we let my dad drive towards home almost 3 hours and across a couple of state lines before we uncovered him and yelled, “Surprise!” My poor dad had to turn the car around and drive back (I think my uncle met us half-way, but still…) to return him home. I’m not sure many parents would own up to this one today, having a child’s whereabouts unknown for that length of time, but there was a time when kids went out from sunrise to sunset pretty much on their own without any hovering or helicoptering. I bet while those kids were out, they fell, got stung by bees, ate junk food, drank large sodas, ran really really fast, and god only knows what other horrors.
So what’s my point? As usual, I really have no idea. Maybe it’s that being raised in the 60s and 70s should make it easier for me to admit I’m not so perfect, but that’s not it. I’m worried that on top of the standard criticism most parents get, there will be the added “Well what did she expect having a baby at her age” shit thrown in too.
A few weeks ago, I took the little guy to the Hippo Park playground to let him burn off some energy. We have a runner on our hands. It’s not just D and I who think so, other people make comments all the time. That day in Hippo, I looked around at the hundreds of other kids, and I swear mine was the only one running around the perimeter of the fence non-stop like a mad man. He does the same thing to us in the country. We put him down in the middle of a big empty field and he takes off flying, towards the road of course. My sweet friend Darci, who has a nearly one-year-old boy and whose career it is to understand movement in the brain development of children reassures me that it’s totally cool that he loves to run non-stop like a mad man in the park or at the Mommy and Me class that she runs. My pediatrician has no problem with it either.
But then things like this happen: At Hippo that day, he ran and I chased as closely as I could. He is fast and has the advantage of being low to the ground and able to duck under slides and jungle gyms. Plus, the playground was packed with hundreds of kids most of whom I was trying to avoid trampling and their adult caregivers who were standing around forming a giant obstacle course. So, for like ten seconds, he got so far out in front of me that I lost sight of him. And then I heard the sound I had been dreading, SPLAT, followed by the collective gasp from all the obstructive adults, then a deafening silence, and finally of course, the blood-curdling scream of pain. I got there just in time to see my baby, flat out on the concrete, raise his bloody face. There was a circle of adults around him and they all turned to look at me as I ran to him and I projected the same thought on everyone of them: “Thank god she’s not OUR nanny.”
Now usually, I’m prepared. My diaper bag has matches in it, because you never know when you’ll get lost in Central Park and have to start a camp fire to cook some rat and squirrel stew for dinner. I have bee-sting medicine and pain killers, a thermometer, nail clippers, all the diapering gear and ointments, cookies, bottles, water and sippy cups. I never leave this apartment without enough stuff in my diaper bag to keep us dry, fed, and medicated for days. Except, you guessed it, THAT effing day. I had just fed him and changed his diaper and I thought maybe I could manage a quick trip to the park without carrying his 30-pound diaper bag down the 4 flights. Fool.
So, I had nothing to clean up my bleeding baby. A bunch of other parents stepped right up to help me, though, offering tissues and wipes and even a consult from a woman who I’m guessing is a pediatrician or nurse. She took a quick look from an arm’s length at his gashed lip and said, “I think some ice should do it for him.” I got him cleaned up as best I could and back in his stroller. I did the walk of shame out of the park that day and back to the apartment with my bloody little boy who had stopped crying after 5 minutes, but who had a big boo-boo on his lip for a week. For him, a badge of courage, for me, a reminder of my failure to keep him safe.
In the end, it was just a boo-boo, one of hundreds I’m sure this little bundle of energy is going to have throughout his childhood. It shouldn’t be any other way, right? But instead of Hippo park today, we are going to NY Kid’s Club, where the toddler gym has the thickest wall-to-wall carpeting I’ve ever stepped barefoot upon. Just in case….
Next time: Any suggestions?
© copyright 2013 grayhairedmom.com
Our first two weeks back in NYC, and all I can say is, “How do single parents do it?” I can’t WAIT until 6:30 p.m. when D walks in the door and takes over for me. The first week was tough because F was sick and we couldn’t go out at all. Friday night rolled around and D was working a late shift. I didn’t expect him home until 9-ish, but my tank ran dry around 7. It was then that I looked over and noticed the little guy picking something up off the floor in the vicinity of his high chair and bringing it towards his mouth.
Usually I would jump up and run over to him, guilt dripping out every one of my mommy pores. Instead, I had to following conversation in my head:
Good Mommy: “Oh my god, what is he putting in his mouth! Get up get up get up, get it away from him before he eats it!”
Bad Mommy: “Just how bad could it be? I mean, I feed him mostly organic stuff. Whatever is coming off my floor is probably better for him than anything from McDonalds…..”
Good Mommy: “What if it’s a ROACH!” (I don’t have roaches, but it is NYC and that’s been known to happen…)
Bad Mommy: “It’s not a roach. It’s probably a raisin. And it’s snack time anyway….”
Good mommy won. I got my tired self up off the couch and wrestled what was indeed a raisin out of his little fingers and got dinner for him. But there was a split second there when I almost closed my eyes.
Little Guy was fed, bathed, and asleep and I was almost comatose by the time D got home last Friday night. Saturday morning, D got up with him at dawn and after breakfast, took him to the baby gym class and then to the park. I didn’t get out of bed until 11 a.m. We had a great day and evening, and Sunday morning, I slept in again while the boys hung out. I used to wonder why stay-at-home parents looked forward to the weekends and now I know!
Next time: Speaking of running….we’ve got a runner on our hands
© copyright 2013 grayhairedmom.com
Or 5 days with a sick almost-2-year-old toddler…which would you choose? You’d choose the sick toddler? OK, tough gal (or to my 2 sweet guy friends from high school who are men enough to actually admit they read my blog–tough guys), how about 5 days stuck inside with a sick toddler in a tiny apartment four floors up in the air without an elevator? Still think you’d choose the toddler?
After about three days of the feverish little guy’s whining, sniffling, and waking up screaming every hour from midnight until 6 a.m., I was dreaming of a sweet, restful, pampered stretch in a minimum-security prison…a cot all to myself, hot meals served to me, the stretches of outdoor time in the “yard” walking dreamily around in the sun…pure bliss…
Along with the little guy’s cold, I’m admittedly having a little trouble transitioning back to life as a city mom. I have so much help when I’m in PA. My BFF’s beautiful daughter, Kerri, has been my mommy’s helper.
She is wonderful with the little guy and he loves her. Last summer, she watched him for me a few times a week so that I could get a little whiff of freedom–a trip to K-Mart or ShopRite…woo hoo.
I thought I’d be thrilled to be back in NYC after a LONG winter in Pennsylvania. Yes, it snows in NYC, but as long as Mayor Bloomberg isn’t in the Caribbean, plows come along every hour or so and clear it up. Someone else digs out the steps and sidewalks. It’s magical for about 12 hours, and then it’s just dirty for a day or two after that, and then it’s spring.
I’m usually OK at handling boredom. About a decade ago, I got trapped for a week in the Poconos by a snow storm. I took that time to teach my cat to fetch. Seriously. But there is something different about being trapped inside with a sick baby in the city. There’s no way to get a breath of fresh air. Even when he goes down for a nap, I can’t just walk down 4 flights to the stoop. I’ve never been claustrophobic, but the walls were starting to close in on me.
Then I had to get him to the pediatrician 24 blocks away. I didn’t want to take him the whole way in his stroller, so I had a brain wave and thought, “How hard can it be to get him, myself, the stroller, and his diaper bag on the city bus?” Harder than I ever imagined…I looked like such a dorky clod that three different ladies on the bus took pity on me and jumped up to help. He did love the bus, though. So much so that this weekend, D and I are taking him for a round-trip bus ride to nowhere, just for fun. Who says NYC isn’t fun for kids!
Next time: My holy terror tears up “Musical Tots” class
Congrats to Nay, Trey, Merdi, and the latest arrival, Laurel!!
Way back in Archduke Franz-Michael’s first term as NYC mayor, he banned smoking in all bars and restaurants in New York City. I was, and still am, totally outraged even these many years later when smoking has been banned almost everywhere else, too. I think smoking has even been banned in the southern United States, Ireland, England, and most of Europe, right?
I wasn’t even a smoker when the ban went into effect in NYC. I had just quit, so the ban was good for me personally because I could go out for drinks with friends and not be tempted by smokers happily puffing all around me. But I still thought it was over-reaching and wrong.
Smokers are justifiably banned from smoking in most public places (offices, hospitals, churches, airplanes, buses, subways, trains, schools, dorms, prisons, libraries, hotels, restaurants, parks, beaches, a lot of sidewalks, a lot of apartments buildings, theaters, and in cars in which children are riding) so shouldn’t there be one single place where a smoker can light up? And I totally get that workers who are not smokers are exposed to second-hand smoke, and yes, that sucks. But I always thought there could be some sort of compromise worked out—like maybe a bar could choose to be a smoking or non-smoking bar, and then workers could choose where to work.
Anyway, it’s done; the ban will never be lifted. But one of the unintended consequences of the ban has turned out to be a baby boom in bars. Since there’s no smoke, parents take their babies with them.
My friends the Gallagher sisters, Annie and Bernadette, were out in Park Slope, Brooklyn last weekend. Park Slope is close to Manhattan, and the apartments are bigger and just ever-so-slightly more affordable than Manhattan. It’s not quite moving to the suburbs, so a lot of new parents move there. And then they go out and meet their friends who also have babies out at bars. Annie said there were so many babies in the bar that day that she bought 4 beers and the bartender threw in a baby for free.
This has been happening all over NYC for a while now. The first time I walked into a bar and saw baby strollers, I was shocked. I met Bernadette that afternoon, and she put it quite succinctly: “If your baby is going to buy me a drink, O.K. Otherwise, leave him at home.” And I have to say I tended to agree with Bernadette then.
Now that I’m a mom, I’m not sure how I feel anymore. On the one hand, why not take your baby with you to meet friends? If you go to a restaurant and sit at a table while having a cocktail with friends, then is it really any different if you sit at the bar instead of a table and have your drink? Then again, it’s a bar. Fights have been known to break out. Drunks have been known to fall off bar stools, not that I have any personal experience of that happening, but thank goodness I was wearing underwear that night is all I’m going to say on that subject. Should babies really be exposed to this sort of stuff?
I’m talking about afternoons here, by the way. I haven’t heard of anyone taking a baby out at night to a bar or club. Now granted, the last time I was in a club, people were doing The Vogue, and not in an ironic or fun-retro kind of way, either, so I really have no idea what goes on in clubs anymore.
I can’t imagine that the mayor called a strategy session and said, “How can we make bars more baby friendly?” and yet, that’s what he did. I think it’s hilarious, to be honest. Mayor Mike has also been trying to ban the sale of large sugary drinks. I do agree with him on one thing: sugar is almost as dangerous to one’s health as tobacco. But banning large sodas? Never going to work. At least not in the way he intends. Maybe this will just lead to babies drinking beer in bars when they are out with their parents instead of soda?
So far, I have not taken the little guy* out to a bar. In fact, I haven’t been out with friends at a bar since he came along, a situation that I intend to remedy soon. I have met friends for lunch and brunch at cafes and restaurants, sat at a table, and even had a glass of wine I think, with him along in his stroller.
I’m still not sure how I feel about putting him in his stroller and heading out the a bar. Thoughts? Comments?
*By “little guy” I mean my son, not the mayor.
Next time: A Quiz About Working Moms
© Copyright 2013 grayhairedmom.com
About the Author: Dr. Eric Bakker, ND, is a naturopathic physician from New Zealand. He’s spent the past 20 years carefully studying Candida causes and cures and aims to help those who are suffering find answers.
Natural methods are often successfully used to help eliminate candida overgrowth, a fungal infection that manifests itself in many ways. Although candida, aka candidiasis, is not frequently diagnosed by most traditional doctors, some western medicines, both prescription and over the counter (OTC), do offer relief from the condition. By combining naturopathic and conventional treatments, you may be doubly successful at curing fungal infections.
Various Types of Candida
Candida, the overgrowth of a specific microorganism that lives in human bodies, is like a chameleon and takes on many different identities. Here are some common infections caused by candidiasis:
- Vaginal (Candida Vaginitis) or penile(Candida Balanitus) yeast infections
- Oral thrush
- Diaper rash
- Athlete’s foot
- Nail fungus, causing thick, brittle toenails and fingernails that may protrude from the nail beds
- Cutaneous Candidiasis (Skin rashes, particularly in moist areas such as skin folds or under large breasts)
- Systemic candida – This is a serious condition where the candida invades the blood stream and can have damaging effects on every system in the body. Systemic candida is often found amongst people with compromised immune systems such as HIV patients or those undergoing chemotherapy. It can damage organs like the liver, eyes, heart, kidneys, and others.
Some forms of candida are external, others are internal or emotional, instigating such difficulties as irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), migraine headaches, chronic fatigue, arthritis, allergies, asthma, PMS, memory loss, depression, mood swings, and many others.
Because it takes so many forms, candida can be tricky to treat. Some types react well to conventional medical treatments, others may respond best to homeopathic treatment, and a combination of the two treatments may be most successful for others.
Conventional Candida Treatments
Traditional doctors tend to treat symptoms rather than candida itself. For problems like yeast infections or athlete’s foot, they will normally prescribe an antifungal medication in either a pill or topical cream form or possibly a suppository for vaginal yeast infections. They may also recommend over the counter medications.
Some of the common drugs used include:
- Butoconazole (available OTC as Femstat, Gynazole-1)
- Clotrimazole (aka Gyne-Lotrimin, Mycelex)
- Miconazole (popular OTC cream Monistat
- Terconazole (Terazol)
- Tioconazole (Vagistat-1)
- Fluconazole (Diflucan), the newest antifungal on the market, also treats vaginal candidiasis.
Although these medications can be quite effective in eliminating symptoms, unfortunately, if the candida is not controlled long term, the likelihood of reoccurrence is strong. One of the most exasperating parts about candida is that just when you think you’ve got it cured, you get another infection.
The Two-Prong Approach to Treating Candida
Many people are discovering that a combination of western medicine and natural treatments is the best way to keep candida from reestablishing itself in your body. Western medicine can help cure the initial symptoms while naturopathic treatments keep the candida from returning. For instance, you may take the prescribed antifungal medications but also choose to follow a low sugar, yeast free diet. This combination of treatment methods often works to reduce the initial overgrowth and regulates the delicate balance of intestinal flora for long term relief.
Natural Candida Remedies
It is often our fast-paced, fast food 21st century way of life that encourages candidiasis in the first place. That is why natural candida remedies involve making lifestyle changes, including what you eat. In fact, following the proper diet is vital to recovery from candida.
The goal of the candida diet is to starve the candida albicans. To do that, you must refrain from eating the foods they feed on. Those include foods that contain sugars, glutens, and yeasts. That means the consumption of most fruits, breads, chocolate, aged cheeses, processed meats and foods, alcohol, fermented beverages, black tea, mushrooms, and more is severely restricted. Starchy vegetables such as peas, corn, and others should also be avoided.
This may sound like a difficult régime to follow, but after a few weeks you can begin to add a few of your favorite foods back into your diet. If you remain free of candida symptoms, you can indulge yourself occasionally.
Other Natural Candida Treatments
There are other steps you can take to help you banish candida from your life. Numerous herbs and supplements can be used to treat and prevent candida. Oil of oregano is a popular remedy, as are garlic, thyme, ginger, rosemary, and clove. You also need to take a multivitamin tablet daily to support your immune system.
Unrefined coconut oil is a great choice for treating both internal and external candida. This delicious, fragrant oil is rich with three types of saturated fatty acids that team up and destroy the candida cells. You may consume three tablespoons of the oil daily. You may also apply coconut oil directly to the skin, using it to treat athlete’s foot and other cutaneous candida conditions such as psoriasis. Pure coconut oil is also a great moisturizer and protects aging skin.
Although you may prefer holistic treatment methods, don’t rule out conventional treatments completely. By combining both approaches, you can be confident that you are doing everything possible to control candida and eliminate the chronic problem from your life.
Next time: Betcha never thought this would happen, Mayor Bloomberg!
© Copyright 2013 grayhairedmom.com
I’m a big believer in voting with my wallet. If someone bankrolls an odious cause or candidate and sells consumer products, my husband and I will go a long way out of our way not to buy those products. For reasons I won’t go into on this blog (but you can follow this link to see why), we try not to buy any products manufactured by companies owned by the Koch brothers.
Here’s a partial list:
Georgia-Pacific Products
- Angel Soft®
- Brawny®
- Coronet®
- Dixie®
- Mardi Gras®
- MD Bathroom Tissue
- Quilted Northern®
- Soft ‘n Gentle®
- Sparkle®
- Vanity Fair®
- Zee®
No problem for us, here. We usually try to use more eco-friendly (partially recycled) paper products and avoid single-use products like paper napkins and paper plates. I was feeling pretty happy with myself (sanctimonious, much?) until I came upon this horrifying fact: The Koch Brothers manufacture SPANDEX!
S P A N – effing – D E X!
Like in my YOGA PANTS!
Yoga pants…otherwise known as the bottoms in the official “Mommy Uniform.” The same uniform that I donned with such pride about 2 years ago now. I didn’t even know spandex was manufactured! I thought it was some gift of nature.
So in the style of dearest Sylvia (without the whole oven thing of course), I offer this lament:
Stretchy
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, spandex– Booooo!
In which I have lived like a fool
For two years, fat and white,
but at least managing to breathe or Achoo….Spandex, spandex, you bastards, I’m through!
But to be honest, I’m not sure I can give up spandex. Not just yoga pants, but anything and everything stretchy? Spanx, pantyhose and tights, bathing suits, and bras. I think the only non-spandex bottoms look like this:
What’s a middle-aged mom to do? Thoughts, anyone?
Next time: A guest blogger in Healthy Living
© Copyright 2013 grayhairedmom.com
