Archive for September, 2011
Because I love Boston, and I love how Molly is trying to make it all work in spite (because) of her divorce…
Because I love the Jenny of The Bloggess and she uses the word fu** a lot…
Because I love THE BREAKFAST CLUB…
Because I love the blog, Daily Plate of Crazy , since Big Little Wolf makes me feel less alone in all my craziness. Plus this woman writes a ton. Yes, I’m jealous…
Because I love sushi and I can’t imagine making it, but The Succulent Wife may make me a sushi chef yet with the sushi cube…
Because I love Melia Lore…She liberally sprinkles her post with the f-word, too. Why do all the cool chicks say fuck?
Because I love Ree from The Pioneer Woman who has managed to turn her move to the country after marrying her cowboy into now a Food Network show…
Because I love Color Me Badd–two ”d’s”–come on what’s not to love?
Let me say up front I imagine I was like every other expecting woman. When I was pregnant with Molly, I read WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN EXPECTING, and Parenting, Parent, Parent & Child, and Family and Parenting magazines. I couldn’t get enough articles about how to stimulate my baby’s mind, like hanging a black and white mobile over Molly’s crib. Or how to hold her in a variety of ways when breastfeeding to ensure my nipples wouldn’t get sore or crack. By the way, it still happened.
As Molly grew, I read to her all the recommended age-appropriate books. When Kelly was born, I read articles and information about how to introduce a new baby into the family. How do you conquer the fear you’ll never love another child as much as the first? How do you handle sibling rivalry? And don’t get me started on how many magazines I scoured about validating us working moms that it was really quality time and not quantity time that mattered.
But as my girls grew older, as adolescence loomed its ugly head, I wondered where the H-E-L-L were those parenting books and magazines about how to raise an adolescent, a teenager, a child leaving the nest? The irony is we need the parenting books more than ever during this time. Think about it. When’s the last time there was a headline about a baby who has colic? Kelly did and there was lots of advice about how to handle it from putting her carseat on the top of a washing machine on the spin cycle, to driving her around, to using anti-gas drops. Where are the articles about Gwenyth Paltrow’s children, Apple and Moses,–clearly she didn’t read the baby books on names–having acid reflux or having trouble about latching on to nurse? No where I tell you. Why? Because colic, not being able to latch on, and a two-year-old throwing a fit in the grocery store are all covered in the myriad of parenting books and magazines.
Don’t you think Lynne Spears could have used a few parenting articles about how to help prevent her daughter, Jamie, from getting pregnant as a teen, or how to support Britney before she lost her mind? Miley Cyrus, Lindsay Lohan and plethora of other Hollywood teens have all struggled with trying to grow up but in their cases they had all of us watching.
I’m not perfect. I’m not a perfect mom. But I’m a good mom and I would have been better if I had resources on how to handle the teen years, those years when my daughters still wanted to be my babies but were trying their damnedest to pull away.
Think about it. What if there information on being gay, trying drugs, peer pressure, bullying, sexuality, self-esteem, embracing being different, etc., etc.? As a mother, I would have been able to better help my daughters but I would have taught them about how to help their friends going through all the crap that comes from growing up and becoming an adult.
What do you think?
To my Somali Sisters and Robin
When I first became a Registered Dietitian, I was charged with providing technical assistance to school districts to make healthier food for the kids. This was over twenty-five years ago, and I was young. Back then I thought the most important thing in the world was nutrition. This was what I had been taught in college. This was what I was trained to do.
I marched into the foodservice director’s office and not suggested but demanded she have her staff make a lowfat entree for all of their elementary schools.
“You want us to make the Sweet ‘n Sour Turkey from the USDA recipe book?”
Do I stutter?
I nodded my head vigorously.
“Okay, you’re the expert,” she said.
And don’t you forget it!
The next month I drove up to one of the elementary schools to witness the popularity of the Sweet ‘n Sour Turkey with rice first hand. I stood with my hands on my hips, my chin slightly tilted at an angle, a stance of confidence. It took less than two minutes to know I’d made a horrible mistake. My error was emphasized by the amount of food thrown away that day.
I looked around the lunchroom for the first time. What had I been thinking? These were children. Latino children for the most part who had never even tasted Asian food, and certainly not turkey with the sweet and sour sauce on it. This was my first and last lesson of what happens when you disregard the values and the voice of a particular culture and force your own values on people.
Fast forward to last month when I got a phone call from my Somali sister, Sahra.
“We want you to talk at our meeting for East African women,” she said. “I want you to talk about how you work with other cultures since you’re so good at it.
“I want you to talk about how we’ve been working together over the last three years. I want people to understand the benefits of working with my community and vice versa.”
I thought of that turkey twenty-five years before and smiled. I’d come a long way baby.
On September 10, the day before the ten year anniversary of September 11th, I stood in a packed room of East African women and their partners, including the Voices of Women.
I started out with my turkey story. Then I went on to talk about the lessons I’ve learned over the years working with PEOPLE from other cultures, like the importance of sharing stories, listening, embracing similarities and respecting differences.
“Have empathy,” I continued. “I don’t know what it’s like to leave my home country, leave my family and friends behind, to come to another country. You don’t know what it’s like to be raised half your life as a hippie and then move to the boonies and be raised as a hick. It can really mess you up.”
I ended the presentation with this.
“I want you to stand if you agree with the statements I’m about to read.”
“My favorite fruit is bananas? Berries? Mangoes?”
Half the room stood when I said mangoes, Somali, white, Ethiopian, young, old, men, women. There were smiles and nods of acknowledgment around the room.
“Who is a parent? Grandparent? Brother? Sister? Daughter? Son? Friend?”
“Who has lost a parent? Both parents?”
Silence.
“Who was born here in San Diego?”
I sat. I was born in Florida. There was only twenty people who stood, most of them East African-American children.
I took a deep breath. Tears stung my eyes. All eyes were on me.
“Who was horrified, saddened, frightened, or otherwise impacted by September 11th?”
The whole entire room of people stood.
Today marks the tenth anniversary of September 11th. Over the last two weeks we’ve heard stories of how people’s lives changed on that day. Mine did too.
My daughters lost their innocence that day. They realized the world could be terrifying and there is such a thing as hate.
I try to not take things for granted. I realize how everything could be lost in a second.
First my world shrunk, then it expanded to include places I’d never thought about: Afghanistan and Iraq.
I know what bravery is; I know what heroes are.
There is nothing I can do about changing people’s minds or hearts. I only can change mine.
I’ve gotten complacent. I’ve snuggled back into my cushy life with a roof over my head, plenty of food in my tummy, a bed to sleep in. I will remember today and the rest for those who died on September 11th and those who continue to lose their lives in Afghanistan and Iraq. I will remember there are people all over the world who suffer without food, water and freedom. I will remember that hate begets hate, AND love begets love.
Love and Peace.
