Chicago Moms Blog

I buy clothes like its going out of style

I have a confession: my clothes are out of style. Or maybe that's a confusion, not a confession. How did this happen? On the rare day that my two young boys allow me to go out dressed as something other than "lactating Mommy" I select nice, attractive garments from my closet and the reflection in the mirror isn't half bad. But once I arrive, looking around at the people in the crowd I realize they are dressed nothing like me. I seem hopelessly out of date and out of style.

Granted, my recent pregnancy and postpartum body have stopped me from running out and grabbing the latest fashions. The clothes in my closet have been there for awhile. But I'm not talking bell bottoms or flannel shirts.  My clothes aren't Nixon era or FDR era.  No, I bought nearly everything I own solidly within the reign of George W. Bush.  Most of them in his second term. 

This post is about Deodorant

This post is about Deodorant.  Not likely to be a Pulitzer Prize winner, I know.  We rub the stuff on our arm pits every morning, trusting with deep faith that it will not let us down, believing that we can raise our hands and be Sure, that we know the Secret. We ask a lot of this stuff, and we almost never talk about it. So today's the day.

Here's what I want to talk about.  The aluminum found in increasing amounts in nearly all womens' deodorant/antiperspirant, and increasingly in mens' as well.

I was in High School, and working part time as a Nurses' Aid in a Nursing Home, when the World Heath Organization first published their possible links between aluminum and Alzheimer's disease.  I was looking at Alzheimer's way too close up to even mess around with increasing my chances, so my mom and I decided to stop using the brands that carried aluminum.  What we learned is that all antiperspirants have aluminum.  That's what makes them antiperspirants.  So, ok, I can sweat a little.  That's an ok sacrifice to make, given the risk.  Except - guess what - there pretty much were zero deodorants on the market for women - that is, deodorant that doesn't have antiperspirant, that is, deodorant that doesn't have aluminum.

Loving Mama, or Dirty Slut? You decide.

Here's the scene: our car is parked near a residential playground.  I'm sitting in the passenger seat, nursing my infant; my husband and toddler are playing in the park.  Its a warm day (finally!) so I've got my door open to keep from stifling.  There's not many other people around.  

"You're a Dirty Slut!"  

Did that seem to come out of nowhere for you?  Yeah, I thought so too.  I looked up and saw that the loud, aggressive male voice had come from a vehicle that was now receding in the distance.  I looked around to figure out whom he had been addressing.  

Probably not the handful of kids at the park.  But there was no one else around.  Was he just yelling those ugly words for the fun of it?  

It really took me this long to consider that there was another person nearby.  Had he been directing those choice words toward me?!

Open the door for the tired Mommy

Picture this: I'm a tired, disheveled Mommy.  I'm lugging my infant in a heavy infant seat as he screams and cries.  I'm trying to hold on to my tired, crabby toddler as he runs ahead of me faster than I can follow.  I've got three different bags packed full slung over various shoulders, and one toddler craft I'm clinging to in one hand.  To top it off, I have a bad hacking cough.  Several times we have to go through doors; opening these door and herding myself plus infant, bags, craft, and run away toddler through them is a challenge worthy of The Amazing Race.  Even when I'm not going through the doors I'm frequently stopping to cough, to catch my breath, to hoist my bags or infant carrier, or chase my toddler. Put it all together, and what do I look like? 

You know exactly what I look like.  You've been there.  We have all been, sometime. 

But here's the deal: this is all happening with hundreds of people nearby, people walking freely, unrestricted by tots and tot-bling.  All of them going in the same direction as I am, more or less.  And during the whole walk, the long, Amazing Race walk, not one single person offered to open a door for me, carry a bag for me, stop my runaway toddler for me, or even offer an insincere "do you need some help?" to me.  Nope.  Not one door held open by the person who just walked through it.

March: In like a cockroach, out like a slug

Having lived most of my life in the Midwest, March is my worst month of the year.  If December is "the most wonderful time" then March is the least wonderful. 

March makes you think of spring coming, snow thawing, lakes melting, trees budding, birds chirping, flowers reaching.  Which is great - I love all of those things.  But Midwestern Marches will trick you like that.  You think of those things, you long for them - but what you get is dumped on by more snow and driven indoors by more cold.  Not only is it still winter, but the "wonderland" is long gone.  Instead of glistening snowflakes and Jack Frost the dirty snow looks like old dishwater, like an archaeological dig  displaying the garbage and trash of the past several months. Cars, sidewalks, stop signs, shoes - everything is covered in a layer of salt residue. The world is gray, the world is ugly, the world is stale.  

In essense, not only do we not get spring, but we don't even get the good parts of winter. To make matters worse, we're the only ones. Most of the globe really is starting spring, celebrating the coming of warm weather and sunshine.  But for us its Mother Nature's bait and switch, and I fall for it every year. 

The Holy Bible (Rated R)

I'm a mother who is also a member of the Christian faith; so it should come as no surprise that I value passing my faith on to my children.  After all, we all do our best to instill that which we love and find beautiful into our kids, right?  And this should really be no problem for me - I've studied theology, the Bible, and religion my entire life. 

But I don't know where to begin. For example, you begin with Bible Stories, not hard core theology right?  That's simple enough. I should be ready to bust out a Bible story relevant to every possible moment, right? 

Well, that's the problem.  The Bible?  Is totally rated "R". 

Superstar on a treadmill

Being a mom is kind of like running on a treadmill. No matter how short the distance, how minute the goal, I just never seem to get there. So frequently I think to myself "ok, the next thing I do is going to be (insert small, easy task)" but I get to the end of the day without having completed it. Because I sat around being lazy? No, because more urgent matters pop up, one at a time, one after the other. 

For example, consider what it looks like to head out to the grocery store. Perhaps a comparison study will help.

This is your trip to the Market with no kids:

9:00: Think to yourself, "I should go to the store."

9:03: Decide to go.

9:03:30 Grab keys, wallet, phone, and walk out the door.

This is your trip to the Market with an infant and a toddler:

8:00: Think to yourself, "I should go to the store." (Nothing is going to happen without advance planning, hence the time change.)

8:05: Is feeding breakfast to toddler, while bouncing fussy baby in the sling.

Ascending the Mountain

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind...I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.  - Martin Luther King, 1968, "I've been to the Mountaintop"

Tonight I am sitting in my living room, talking with my husband and my brother.  And someone mentions that Monday next week is Martin Luther King Day.  Its been 41 years since his assassination; 41 years since he wrote and spoke the words above.  But then someone mentions that next week Tuesday is Inauguration Day, the day that Barack Obama, our first African American President, will take office. 

And this strikes me - these two events happening together.  All that the one man worked so hard for, part of this is reflected in the work the second man is taking. 

Do you medicate your kids?

Do you medicate you kids? 

I have a two year old.  Every time he's been sick in his life I've called the doctor and a few pharmacists and said "what can I give him?"  Each time the answer is the same - no over the counter meds until he's six years old!!

He's never really been that sick - no hospital stays or even antibiotics or ear infections for him.  And since I don't really like medicine myself, I haven't pushed it.  We've weathered the long parade of baby and toddler viruses with natural methods - steam, saline, herbal chest rub instead of Vics, etc.  Its made for some long nights, but that's part of having sick kids, right? 

Until this winter. 

Pre-Mommy Mythology

Ah, if she only knew...

Yesterday I was eating at a restaurant and overheard the table of ladies sitting next to me.  From their clothes it was evident that they were on their lunch break from work, and from their conversation it was evident that none of them had children...yet. 

One of them was obviously pregnant and was excitedly discussing the changes to come.  The others plied her with questions.  One question caught my ear - when do you plan to take off work to have the baby?

The answer to this question brought a smile to my face.  "Oh, not until I'm in labor - I hope to work up until I leave for the hospital.  I don't want to be just sitting around the house those last few days, doing nothing.  I'll have plenty of time for laying around doing nothing after the baby is born." 

The other ladies nodded sagely.  "Yeah" they all said, sympathetically. 

Ah, if she only knew...

This is an original post of the Chicago Moms Blog.  On the rare occassions that Catherine has a chance to "lay around doing nothing" she blogs over at everyday life as lyric poetry.