On November 8, the glass ceiling didn’t shatter, the balloons didn’t drop, though the champagne was consumed anyway, right out of the bottle, for different reasons. Out of the two imperfect presidential candidates, the one with the most fitting resume, poise, intellect and popular votes lost. The other one, supported by the homophobes, misogynists and racists – as well as by millions of reasonable people – won.
No analyst could have predicted this “stunning” outcome, as the media says, though more than half of this voting nation would call this a “binge eating, ugly crying, social media ranting, Facebook friend-deleting, ‘I’m moving to fucking Canada’” outcome.
Our culture’s obsession with weight, from diet fads to the thigh gap, takes a particular toll after childbirth.
According to medical books, a 25- to 35-pound gain during pregnancy is considered healthy. A woman becomes roughly 12 pounds lighter immediately after childbirth. The rest is supposed to just melt away.
But instead of fitting a statistical bell curve, many new mothers feel like outliers.
This post was originally published by Kveller on Sept. 13, 2016
I never thought waiting tables at a Moroccan restaurant in Manhattan had anything to teach me about kids. If you are a broke student who lives off a credit card and walks 30 blocks to save on subway fare, yet splurges on cocktails and believes fatherhood potential and artistic talent are the exact same thing, children are sort of not in the picture. Continue reading “Kveller: 6 Parenting Lessons I Learned As a Restaurant Server”
Ever wonder how your parenting stacks up in our world of benchmarks and parenting philosophies? Take this quiz to find out, picking one best answer for each question.
1.Baby transportation: Baby wearing or stroller?
a. Baby wearing forever! Or at least until he tells me he prefers to drive.
b. Stroller. My back hurts.
2.Manners: Your toddler said he hates you and threw goldfish crackers in your face. Your response:
a. Discuss why throwing and name-calling is wrong, suggest postponing anti-parent angst until he is a teenager. Work with your toddler to pick up the goldfish from the floor together. Name the goldfish. Find an appropriate container for storing the goldfish. No, not the green cup. Incentivize as needed.
b. Deal when you have the energy. Pick up the goldfish yourself and eat them.
A version of this essay was originally published by Kveller on August 4, 2016.
I’d known what I’d call my future daughter since I was a teenager.
But things got tricky with my son. I hoped to parcel out his Russian-American-Jewish heritage into one word, ensuring it’s pronounceable by Russian relatives without making him a laughingstock of his American peers.
I know, I know, there’s been a lot of news coverage of babies lately.
Like a guy running for president who kicked a woman out from a rally because her child cried. (Hey lady, not like he’d let you pump milk at work either, which he thinks is disgusting. But hope you stick with the nationwide “Mothers for Trump” club. Never heard of it? Yeah, me neither.)
Anyway, I’ll spare you from politics, gentle reader, and get right to the issue: the ridiculous division in our society into “moms and babies” and everyone else.