Canada Moms Blog

Let's talk about sex, Mom

When I was in grade four, the brother of a girl in my class brought a condom to school. The news spread like wildfire – by recess, a large group of kids had surrounded his locker, hoping for a glimpse. Having no idea what a condom was, let alone what one looked like, my curiosity had been sufficiently piqued. When I got home from school that afternoon, I broached the subject with my mother.

After her coughing fit had subsided, she fished a piece of paper from a pile on the dining room table and drew her best dome. I’d learned in sex-ed class (led by my hairy-chested and very oversexed Phys-Ed teacher) that a condom was used during sexual intercourse – I just didn’t know why, or what one looked like. Thanks to my mother’s illustration, I thought for years that condoms were made of hard plastic, with finely pointed tips.

That drawing, those sex-ed classes and what was scrawled in the stalls of my school’s second-floor bathroom sums up the extent of my sexual education as a child. I entered my teen years armed with more knowledge about the dangers of sex than its pleasures; when it came to the act of lovemaking itself, I was fairly clueless. It’s not the experience I want for my own children, and when it comes to The Talk, I have no qualms about having an open, honest discussion with them, when the time is right.

And when that time comes along I’m pretty sure that this half of the parental unit will be leading the conversation, as my husband still blushes when I use anatomically correct terms with our kids and shuts down altogether at the thought of them becoming sexually active.

“You can take care of that stuff,” he once told me, which, according to this article, is a popular consensus among fathers. It seems that, along with making meals, scheduling appointments, cutting crusts off of sandwiches and, well, everything else, initiating The Talk winds up on many mothers’ To Do lists as well.

According to the article, a third of kids in the U.S. aged 15-17 have had sex. Among teens aged 15-19, 13 per cent of females and 15 per cent of males had sex before they’d turned 15. A Toronto-based survey revealed that among teens aged 13 to 18, one-third were sexually active. It’s not surprising, really – sex is everywhere these days, and kids aren’t stupid.

Clenchaholic

At my dentist appointment the other day I learned that I am most likely clenching and/or grinding my teeth at night. I was dubious at first, wondering whether my dentist was just trying to squeeze more money out of me by recommending a custom mouth guard that will end up costing me more than $300. Yet both my dentist and hygienist pointed to clear evidence of nightly shenanigans in my mouth: receding gums and teeth wearing down more rapidly than the resolve of a mother attempting to grocery shop at 5:00 p.m. with three kids in tow.

Still, I walked away from the dentist office without making the follow up appointment. I don't really grind my teeth, I reassured myself. If I were doing it, I would be experiencing frequent headaches. My jaw would be aching. Surely my husband would have said something!

Baby brain: myth or misinterpreted?

In today's "why did anyone even manage to get funded for this study" news, it turns out that baby brain is a myth. You know, that whole thing whereby you get pregnant and you all of a sudden forget how to spell your name? That thing we all lived through? Yes. Myth. Aren't you glad someone told you that? Wow. Sure cleared up all that mental chow mein I've been regurgitating for well over a year now.

Except, their definition of baby brain was apparently different than mine. Someone out there apparently believed that the act of getting pregnant or having a baby actually made women stupider, rather than just forgetful.

This was worth a study?

There's Such a Thing as TMI - Too Much Information

There's such a thing as too much information (TMI). Don't get me wrong, I'm NOT talking about sex or bodily functions -- things people usually associate with TMI -- because I've certainly been known to talk about my kid's poop and my bra size with random moms in the drugstore aisle. I mean, isn't that one of the beauties of being a mom? Within five minutes of meeting another mom, you could be talking about things like how necessary it is, since having a baby, to pee before you workout. TMI? NO PROBLEM. Loves it.

The problem is INFORMATION. The kind you get when you open your laptop, you wait restlessly for your wireless to load and, finally, wildly hit that search button. Enter: H1N1. Enter: Formula Feeding. Enter: Breastfeeding. Enter: (I don't know) Stomach Cramps; Global Warming; Economy; Pesticides; Poodles; Chocolate. No matter what, as my doctor likes to tell me, "You google it? You're going to find 'cancer,' 'death,' all doom and gloom." Information on the internet is endless, often unreliably sourced, often motivated by one side of an issue or another, by money. Even if you do manage to find a reliable source of information, you'll find at least one link in the sidebar, or in the footnotes, to MORE information -- information that will keep you up at night.

Beyond Gift-Giving: Hanukkah the Green

I'm finding dealing with things quite the parenting challenge lately. It's Hanukkah, and earlier this month I promised myself I wouldn't buy my kids anything at all until Hanukkah because I knew that if I did the whole beauty of getting and, indeed, of giving gifts would be lost. The Hanukkah gifts would be just more little trinkets for my kids to hoard, more random objects to attach themselves to in profound and confusing ways that only Freud could really understand.

And Hanukkah is such a beautiful holiday, so rich with meaning and hope. When we light the menorah, we are celebrating the victory of the Maccabees (a Jewish rebel army) over the Syrians in 156 BCE, and the rededication of the holy Temple in Jerusalem that followed. When the Maccabees rededicated the temple, they had only a small flask of olive oil with which to light the Temple's eternal flame -- enough to keep it lit for one day. But, miraculously, this small flask of oil lasted eight days, giving them enough time to press new olive oil, and keep the eternal flame alive, well, eternally.

As a "friend" reminded me the other day, there's a great modern message in this miracle: a green message. To think, one flask of oil could go such a long way! It's a reminder to us all that a little energy, a little water, any precious resource we use too much of, can go a long way.

Parenting: Yur Doin it Wrong

Time Online recently published a rather LONG article entitled 'The Backlash Against Overparenting.'  The article covers all aspects of our parenting mania and paranoia.  From our 'helicoptering' habits, to our fears about genetically faulty kids, to making sure their lives are tv free, lead free, BPA free, sugar free, etc, etc.

Seriously, it goes on and on and on.

This person had a LOT to say on the subject.

Which is a point in itself.  We do tend to go on and on.

This generation of kids has never been discussed more than any other.   Blogging seem to have started the ball rolling...especially with the development 'mommy blogging.'  We can't NOT stop talking about our kids!

Well, it is really our parenting we are talking about.  A lot.

Breathe In, Breathe Out: Yoga for Moms

I can't remember the last time I went to yoga class. I think it was over a month ago. It was a good morning. I left one kid with my mom, and the other was in nursery school. I schlepped downtown reluctantly, turning the car around to go home at least twice. But, I finally did make it to yoga class, half crying.

Why was I THAT reluctant to go? Why was I half crying? I was half crying because, I'm embarrassed to say, I would have SO preferred to sit on my arse and tweet with my internet pals, research new diet plans (an unfortunate pastime of mine) and just play on my macbook. I wanted to get work done so I wouldn't have to stay up until 2am answering emails, again. I wanted to read my novel, cuddle my cats, watch MTV, or even to peruse the giant bookstore (another favourite pastime) possibly for new diet books, WHILE sipping the bane of my existence -- a soy chai latte (DON'T try it). Sigh.

I wanted to do anything BUT actively work on myself. Going to yoga meant I'd have to BE with myself, sit with myself and be forced to take a good hard look at what's REALLY going on, instead of escaping into work, into dreams of some ideal me, into a novel, or a yummy gourmet beverage.

The Joy of a baby's love

It's taken me a while to write about this. Partly because we've been on the road, partly because, dude, I have a newborn, brushing my teeth is an accomplishment. But mostly because I needed to sort through how I really felt about this. Because this? Got under my skin.

The "this" I refer to is an article in the National Post by Christine Rosen, yet another article about how hip parent bloggers are a harbinger of the end of days. (you know, if I were to paraphrase.)  The article basically says this parent is wrong and that parent, well that parent is REALLY wrong, and these parents will eventually see the horrible error of their ways, et cetera. And blah, and yawn, and can't you think of anything more original to write about because seriously, as a blogger, I've heard it all before.

Why I Blog

Tap tap tap. Is this thing on? Hi. World. Canada. Universe. Mythical Creatures. Random person. Neighbour. Rival. Mom. Friend. Enemy.

If I left anyone out, I'm sorry -- I'll make sure they include you in the press release....

WHY?

Why do I BLOG? Or, how 'bout we phrase it in my favourite way (I get this all the time): "I could NEVER blog, Haley. How do you DO it? Doesn't it make you uncomfortable that the whole world knows what you're thinking and what's going on in your life?"

Here's another favourite of mine: "My husband would NEVER let me blog. What does yours think of it?"

Or how 'bout this one: "What you wrote today, like, about eating disorders? That was, like, really intense. I could NEVER. Eek."

Cutting the Apron Strings

Earlier this year, I wrote about the next stage of motherhood, the one that I could never see because I was too deep in diapers and potty training and temper tantrums.  At that time I was a bit anxious about the transition.  Those days of anxious anticipation have now passed.  My boys are now both in school.  Dare I say I have adjusted to this new stage?

Isn’t that always the way with motherhood?  It’s really a series of stages, each one presenting its own set of challenges.  Some challenges we know are coming (potty training, everyone’s favourite), and many surprise us out of nowhere (picky eater times two).   All give us ample opportunity to worry, fret, plan, revise plan (anyone have a plan F?) and then we come out the other side with a big sigh of relief (not there on the picky eater thing though, seriously, plan F, anyone?), a few thousand more grey hairs and some sense of pride that we made it through another battle.