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Parenting Archive

An Olympic Dream is Born

I know my youngest (now 8 years old) can’t be the only kid out there who has been totally inspired by these summer Olympic games. He’s been staying up until midnight each night because he can’t go to sleep without knowing how it all plays out (we avoid the spoiler alerts). Luckily it’s summer and we both have the luxury of sleeping in most days.

He decided by day 2 that he was going to be an Olympic athlete. There was no question in his mind – only resolution. Maybe he wouldn’t win a medal (he’s okay with that – for now) but he was going to have that Olympic experience. The only question in his mind was which sport? Baseball wasn’t an option. Equestrian? Too expensive for our modest family budget. Badminten? Too uncool. Gymnastics? Requires insane amounts of flexibility (as do many other sports). Flexibility was a definite concern of his. He needed a sport that didn’t require any. This is the kid that can happily play sports all day long but ask him to bend and touch his toes and he can barely touch his knee caps!  Lol.

He pondered for another day and then decided. This was going to be his ticket to the 2020 Summer Olympics…

  

So, what are your kids dreaming of?

 

 

Up for Debate

See that cute little guy waving at you over there? That’s my son, Oliver. He’s been around for about eight months now, so there’s a lot I know about him, but there’s even more that I don’t know.

I know that he likes Cheerios and hates diaper changes, but I can’t tell you what subjects he’ll excel in or whether he’ll play sports in high school. I don’t know what religion (if any) he’ll follow, what political party (if any) he’ll join, or what career path (hopefully something) he’ll choose.

That’s why I have started to hate shopping for kids’ clothing.

Perhaps I should back up a bit?

When Oliver was a newborn, I went to a store that carries nothing but kid’s clothes. When my older son was a baby, it was the perfect place to get simple essentials: solid and striped shirts, little khakis, pajamas with dogs on them. Because we didn’t learn Oliver’s gender until birth, I didn’t have a lot of clothes and looked forward to buying some cute boy things. I walked out with almost nothing.

Instead of stripes and solids, everything said something. “Mommy’s little prince.” “Grandma loves me.” “My dad’s a rock star.”

The whole store felt like a desperate scream for a parent’s validation. Do we really need to broadcast messages from our babies’ shirts to make ourselves feel better?

Then there are the clothes that let parents live out their own fantasies or hopes for their kids. (“Future quarterback.” “Tough guy.” “Rock hero.”) And the ones that highlight kids’ age-appropriate but supposedly negative behaviors. (“All my mom wants for Christmas is a silent night,” “Here comes trouble.”)

Don’t even get me started on anything that includes the word “sexy,” insults a gender (“Girls rule, boys drool”), or celebrates apathy (“Too cool for homework”).

Needless to say, I don’t buy children’s clothes that are designed make me feel better or that pigeon-hole my kids into certain roles.

And here’s where I become a hypocrite. If you’ll notice, in that photo up above, Oliver is wearing a onesie that says “Captain of the Debate Team.” As my 8-month-old clearly is not really the captain of a debate team, that means I have broken my rule about pigeon-holing my kids and living out my dreams through their clothing.

It all started one day in Old Navy. I was in the baby section and had just turned up my nose at some kind of football-related shirt when I spotted it. “Captain of the Debate Team.” I think I squealed out loud. A shirt that celebrated brains over brawn? Oh my gosh! And, I’ll admit it, I was captain of my high school debate team. (Technically I was co-captain of the Speech & Debate Team, and I represented the Speech portion, but still. The only thing that would have caused me to squeal more enthusiastically would have been one that said “Newspaper Editor.” I was, uh, a bit of a nerd. But I digress.)

So, for a split second, I thought, “No. You don’t like things like this.” Then I bought it.

I took it home and posted a photo on Facebook. Many friends liked it.

I threw it in the wash. Then, the next day, I went to fold it…and turned it over for the first time. There was another phrase on the back I hadn’t noticed before. “Talks 247.”

Suddenly, I felt defeated. Sad. Angry. Stupid.

The shirt wasn’t celebrating intelligence at all–it was poking fun at kids who won’t keep their mouths shut and argue about everything. (Sort of ridiculous for that to be on a shirt for the pre-verbal, of course. It would be much better suited for my 7-year-old. But I digress again.)

After I calmed down, it occurred to me that maybe I was overreacting, so I called my mom for her opinion. She didn’t see it as a bad thing, but she also sees loquaciousness as a sign of intelligence. Without giving the background, I polled friends on Facebook about how they feel about a “Talks 247″ shirt. Some felt it was positive or neutral. Others felt it was negative. A few people commented that they don’t like kids’ shirts that say stuff about their personalities.

So what have I done with the shirt? Well, Oliver still wears it. I don’t like the wording on the back (partly because I interpret it as a ridicule and partly because he’s EIGHT MONTHS OLD AND DOESN’T TALK!!!), but I’m still heartened by the front, even if I do realize the shirt is for my benefit and no one else’s.

I also realize I’m probably overthinking the whole thing, but I suppose that’s important for a debater to do.

 

Looking Back

Ah, the good ol’ days. Remember when phones had cords? When people used typewriters? When cartoons were almost solely for Saturday morning enjoyment? When kids bounced around unrestrained in cars…and it wasn’t considered illegal or even unsafe?

Times certainly have changed.

Parents reading this blog today probably spent a good chunk of their childhoods unrestrained, or at least under-restrained, in cars. Looking back it seems scary, but at the time, it’s just how things were.

I was born in the late 1970s, and my mom was actually quite progressive about keeping me safe. I almost always used a car seat (albeit a dinosaur by today’s standards) until I was 4 years old. In fact, I distinctly remember the afternoon when my mom was washing our Chevy Nova in the driveway and asked if I’d like to stop using my car seat. I agreed, and I felt so grown up that I insisted on sitting in the back seat (buckled up) as she pulled the car into the garage.

Today my mom admits that having me ride in the car seat was less about safety and more about helping me see out the window. Still, she took car safety seriously. She always wore her seatbelt and insisted that I do, too, even if I did “graduate” to the front seat as soon as I graduated from the child restraint. I did often wear the shoulder belt behind my back, but she always reminded me to keep the lap belt on my hips, not my tummy (something that was often easier said than done).

I also remember a time when my mom was transporting a group of kids to some sort of YMCA event. She told everyone to buckle up, and a girl (I didn’t know her, but for some reason I remember her name was Pam) said that she didn’t have to wear a seatbelt because she was 16. My mom replied “I’m a lot older than 16, and I have to wear a seatbelt, so you do, too. Buckle up.”

Like I said, buckling up might have meant a shoulder belt behind my back, or lying on the back seat with a lap belt “secured” loosely around my waist during a long road trip, but it was (slightly) better than nothing.

Then there were the times I wasn’t with my mom, like the time my grandparents took me on vacation to California (we lived in the midwest at the time) when I was 6.

The trip involved staying a few nights with some distant cousins who had a convertible jeep. The dad decided to take us out for a ride, so my grandpa sat in front and two older cousins and I sat in the back. By “back” I don’t mean the back seat. I’m pretty there was a back seat but we sat on the back sill and held onto the roll bar. I remember looking behind us as we sped down an iconic palm-tree-lined Southern California street…and feeling nothing but sheer terror. Even at 6, I knew that balancing on the edge of a fast-moving car was probably a stupid idea. Perhaps that’s where my interest in child passenger safety began.

What cringe-worthy moments do you remember about riding in the car as a kid? Did you have a car seat? Did you use seatbelts? Did you stand up in convertible cars? Did you narrowly escape harm because you were restrained, or despite being unrestrained? Did your experiences play a role in how you go about restraining your own kids?

I Made A Mom Cry :(

I certainly wasn’t trying to upset her to the point of tears but I did, and I feel awful about it.  Let me explain….

I was recently involved in a NHTSA special study called NCRUSS.  I was part of a team that evaluates how children are restrained in the vehicle and what the driver knows about child safety seats and how to install them.  My job was to observe and document restaint use (and misuse), and then refer the parent to a local CPS Tech or Inspection Station for a complete and thorough check.  I know most people won’t/don’t follow through with that so the more dire the situation, the more I feel the need to stress that they really MUST do this.  But I literally have 60 seconds or less when it’s busy and the next vehicle is waiting to convince them of this.