Food for Thought

One of the most startling discoveries I made upon becoming a mom is that parenting is a competitive sport in which there are no winners. Something as simple and necessary as feeding your child is cause for judgement and snobbery from parents who do it differently.


When my twins were infants, we fed them using bottles. In public, this garnered a lot of attention. Were we feeding them formula? It was scandalous.

The answer, for the first three months, was no. I was pumping my heart and my breasts out daily to give nourishment to my incredibly tiny children. Born at 34 weeks, they had little to no ability to latch. In fact, for the first month, we had to feed them via tube.

Taking a bottle out in public, however, never failed to bring on the stares of other well-meaning parents who were certain our children weren't getting the best nutrition possible. On top of everything else a parent has to worry about, we now need to worry about other people judging how and what we feed our children.

After the three-month mark, I went back to work. I could not continue pumping enough food for them, and so slowly we weaned them to formula. Am I a formula feeding advocate? No, not really. I am a feeding advocate. As long as mothers are feeding their babies, I am content.

There are many reasons that people might formula feed; necessary medication that doesn't mix with breastfeeding being one of the biggest. To me, though, it doesn't matter if one woman is feeding her infant formula because she couldn't produce enough breastmilk, and another is doing it because she's on medication that could be harmful to the baby, and a third is doing it because she doesn't like the feel of the baby at her breast. It's simply not my business.

This isn't to say we should silence our beliefs. There is most definitely a role for the lactation consultants and activists out there. Many mothers are confused about breastfeeding. Many are coming up against resistance from their families who formula fed. Many desperately want to breastfeed, but their baby won't latch, or they're having trouble with technique. Infancy is a time of great stress, and many infants face weight issues that would push any mother to follow her doctor's - her mother's, her sister's, anyone's - advice to start giving formula, lest she hear the dreaded "failure to thrive." Those mothers, though, will seek out help. They will ask you - or their doctor, or their sister, or their mother - to help them learn about breastfeeding, to help them feed their child. A woman in a restaurant or sitting at a bench in the mall is not asking for our help, and we do not know her story. Therefore, shouldn't we reserve our judgement?

I wanted to breastfeed. I wanted to breastfeed for more than three months. Once I determined it would be infeasible for me to do so, I did not want other's opinions on why I should continue to try. I certainly did not invite the stranger on the street to start waxing poetic about the benefits of breastfeeding to me, as I sat outside at a Starbucks and wrestled with two babies to get bottles into their mouths - especially because in that particular instance, I was feeding them breastmilk. Yes, it comes in a bottle, too.

And bottle feeders are not the only women who come up against judgement from complete strangers. Nursing in public has long been an issue for mothers as well as mall-goers. But isn't it every mother's right to feed her child when it is hungry? Someone's five year old may need a mall pretzel to keep him on his feet, and nobody will look at him twice, but another woman's infant needs a snack, and whether she is using bottle or breast, she will get stared at, if not spoken to.

If you feel the urge to judge someone for their choices, I beg you, next time, before you say something to that harried mother, judge me instead. Think back to this picture:

Yes, that's an almost-two year old with a bottle, and, yes, we're working on it. But that's another blog for another day, and I'd rather you judge me than the poor woman in the corner over there nursing her child, or the mother behind you at the post office when all the fenugreek in the world couldn't boost her supply.

Toddler Logic

As my twins and I got ready to walk to the library, I handed them each a hat. As I handed Dulce her hat, I realized that it was slightly smaller than Natalina’s hat, but it was the only one left within arm’s reach, and I wanted to get going as soon as possible, so I put it on her head and off we went.

This was a mistake.

As we started down the first stretch of road, Dulce started fiddling with her hat. It was too small for her liking. She noticed that it didn’t cover her ears, whereas Natalina’s hat did. So, while I’m proud of myself for having seen this problem ahead of time, I still ignored it at the time, and now we still had a mile and a half to walk to the library, and a mile and a half back – all with a hat not quite to Dulce’s liking.

The way there was not so bad. A walk humming with the repeated sound of “hat, hat, hat, hat, hat, hat.” The way back provided a meltdown the likes of which I had not seen since, well, yesterday.

As adults, we’ve learned to ignore the crucial, tiny conversations our mind has with itself over every decision we make throughout the day. Most of the scenarios our unconscious goes through are unlikely, many don’t make sense, and in almost all of them the protests our mind quickly comes up with and discards can and will be ignored for the greater goal. This process becomes so quick, in fact, that we no longer register it. We begin to assume that making as decision is a simple one-step process. Until, that is, we become parents.

I’m still no expert at this toddler logic, but at least now I recognize which tiny part of my logical process didn’t line up with the baby’s idea. That puts me at least three steps ahead of where I was before becoming a stay at home mom. Step 1: break your decisions up into the shards they really are. Step 2: pay attention to each shard as if it is actually important. Step 3: try to determine how your toddler will view this shard of this decision in five minutes.

So, to further exemplify: as I reached for the blue hat that was slightly smaller than the multi-colored hat her sister was wearing, my mind thought, in this order: This hat is blue. It might not have enough color for her. (Overruled, said the adult. It matches her outfit.) This hat is slightly smaller than her sister’s. It won’t cover her ears in the same way. (Overruled, said the adult. Why do her ears need to be covered? We live in Florida.) She hesitated when taking this hat. She probably doesn’t like it and is just excited to get out of the house. I should probably get her another hat. (Overruled, said the adult. The other hats are in another room, and I am also anxious to get out of the house.) All of this discussion in my mind, boiled down to: we’re going out; the babies need hats.

Toddler brains work differently than an adult brain. They put emphasis in places where emphasis simply should not go. They will get tied up in a little detail that you can’t see, so that even when you fix the overall picture, they’re still upset because it’s not the overall picture they’re seeing. So that no matter how many times I adjusted her hat to cover her ears, it was still no use. I still hadn’t procured her another hat. I still hadn’t picked the right hat in the first place.

The easiest way to avoid all this is to offer them choices. Even if they choose something you wouldn’t have expected, something that doesn’t make sense to you, they have chosen something that makes sense to them, something that they will be happy with. And a happy baby means a happy parent.

Moment of the Week - 2

Dulce is going to be an executive when she grows up:

Natalina is going to be a plumber:

Toddler Tricks - 2

Ways to trick your baby:


Problem: We’re in the middle of potty training, and oftentimes when we need to go out, it just doesn’t make sense to go without a diaper. But after spending all day barebottomed, I know at least my toddlers will throw a right fit about putting a diaper on, to the point where I’ve been pinning down a 27-pounder with the adrenaline strength of baby Hercules with one hand, while trying to strap a diaper on her with the other.

Solution: When we have to go somewhere now, I tell them a few minutes before that we have to pick out our diapers. Then I bring them two diapers to choose from – a pink pullup or a white traditional. The pullups are new in our house, and they’ll always pick that one, but the point is, they pick it out and then they let you put it on. Choices are a huge deal to them.



Ways your baby tricks you:

Problem: Sometimes your new shoes really need to go potty.

Solution: Don’t ever leave the room during potty training time. Alternately, wear only flip-flops for the next three years.

A Lesson in Leaving

It’s hot here in Florida during the summertime, but I didn’t let that stop me as I dressed in chic jeans and heels preparing to take my twin toddlers to the library for the first time. The 1.5-mile walk seemed just the right distance for a strollered stroll when we were inside our air-conditioned home.


First, let me say that I only got one blister, and it didn't show up until halfway there. Huzzah. However, not only was I wearing jeans, I'd also dressed Natalina in jeans, and, seeing as it was probably 95 degrees, this was borderline cruel of me.

We finally get to the library - Dulce, Natalina and I - sweaty messes all. I sign up for a card, roll the stroller to the kids’ corner, and we start to play. There are two other children there; the girl is probably five, the boy, probably three. I think, “Great! My kids will get to play with some other kids.” Unfortunately, that’s not really how it turned out.

Natalina kept trying to give the boy a book which he would swat out of her hands. I didn’t like that, but I kept my mouth shut. What can you really say to a three year old you don’t know? Then, I turned around for a moment, and he pushed Dulce to the ground. So I picked her up and couldn’t help but give the little boy a look - a look meant for an adult, a look meant for an adult who has just knowingly and intentionally hurt you or someone you love. I know that wasn’t right of me, but I really couldn't help it. He pushed my kid. He pushed her on purpose. He also kept throwing books, and my girls saw this and started throwing books. I had to tell them, “No, even though that baby is throwing books, we cannot throw books."

I pulled some grapes out of my purse that I'd brought for the babies, feeling like super-mom because I’d remembered to bring a snack. I quickly learned, though, that grapes are like gold to other people’s children. Those other people’s children ate most of my grapes. Where were all the adults who were supposed to be watching these scamps anyway?

It was finally time to leave. I don't know if you've ever tried to tell a toddler that it's time to leave a great new place where they are having fun, but it’s not easy. Compound that with forcing them back into their stroller, and, well, it just doesn’t go over well. This particular time, it went over screamingly badly, in fact.

I was mortified. We were in a library. There were regular people there minding their own business, trying to read. My kids not only screamed at the top of their lungs for minutes-that-seemed-like-days on end, they also struggled so that it looked as if I were beating them into submission. I have never been more embarrassed in my life.

The librarians were nice about it, but I was almost in tears, telling the babies that we would never come back here again and telling other patrons how sorry we were. The librarians said, “Well, that's what we get for combining a kids' library with an adult library. We expect this. Don't worry. Get out of the house. Come back to the library. It will be better next time.”

I decided never to go there again. The librarians, though, were right. It was better next time. It was better because I was prepared. I told the babies over and over again, “No crying when we leave the library. We can go to the library now, but only if you don’t cry when we leave. We are going to go to the library, and then we are going to leave the library, and you are not going to cry. No crying when we leave the library.”

I can’t believe it, but the broken record of warnings worked. We’re now regulars at the library, and everybody knows not to cry. We also wear shorts.