Wired For Noise

I think I need help.

A little background: Dearest had parents that forced him to eat his food. I’ve heard stories of him sitting at the table for 4+ hours sobbing, not allowed to move until he ate every bite of slimey cooked spinach on his plate. You can imagine how that influenced him towards food. Once on his own he rebelled against anything “good for you” and lived on a diet of Pepsi and junk food. A diet he still mostly lives on today. (a side note, now his parents feed the grandkids poptarts and pepsi and call that a meal)

I, however, grew up with a garden in the backyard. I dined on fresh fruits and veggies any time I wanted so food was never a fight. Well, except for being told to get out of the garden and stop eating all the peas out of their pods. I love food, love fresh fruits and veggies. There isn’t much that I won’t eat.

So since E was old enough to eat solids food has been a war between Dearest and I. I beg for week for him to buy fruit and he buys a can of diced fruit in thick corn syrup, then acts offended when I say that doesn’t count. He only buys cans of green beans and cans of corn and rolls his eyes when I ask for real veggies to feed the kids. To him if he gives them a plate of greesy french fries with ketchup then it’s ok.

I get why he is this way, and I get why he hates feeding the kids real food. And he is making small steps. I can get some fresh fruits now once a week, oranges or bananas or apples. And he’s finally moved past canned veggies to frozen ones, even if they are still only corn and green beans.

But E seems to have already got into his father’s food habits. I slice him a yummy orange for breakfast and he turns up his nose, wanting chocolate coated sugar puffs instead. And Derest seems to take this as proof that I’m abusing the kids with food. How do I get E to eat the healthy foods I serve without forcing him, without it being a war? How do I get Michael to see that E isn’t asking for the junk food because I’m mean but because junk food is addictive? Do I only serve the healthy foods and just let E miss a meal or two until he eats what is given? Do I give in and give him the junk because then at least he’s eating something? Do I club Dearest and steal his checkbook every payday?

I wish I could grow a garden here. Every year, no matter what I try, nothing grows. Oh to have a garden over flowing like I had as a kid for the boys to play in and nibble in.

parenting, food

Is this human freedom,
Hedonistic excess?
Junky consumerism,
Mass-production, toxic sickness,
Everyone is wearing now,
Plastic masks that they hide behind,
Marketing massive sales of nothing,
Everything is selling.

~ Born Frustrated - Rancid

Is anyone else getting damn tired of “recalled toys, recalled toys, recalled toys” every 5 minutes? Cause I’m about at the point where I stage a boycott of every toy company there is. Though, I have myself to blame here. I’m the one who keeps going back to Not China Made every day to read what new toys to cross off the wish list. For crying out loud, not even a wooden coloring case is safe. Which kills my “everyone buy wooden toys instead of plastic” idea. :grumbles:

And in unrelated news my knitting class was canceled for lack of people. Dearest trying to console me by saying “It probably would have been just a bunch of old ladies anyway. Knitting isn’t exactly cool.” Is that a poke at how (un)cool I am?

toy recall, toys

I always wanted a girl. I admit it, the thought of a daughter that I could share moments with woman to woman seems like a dream. I imagine long talks about the kind of things only us women could get.

And then the universe reminds me of why I have sons.

E is doing gymnastics. he’s the only boy in his class, but at this age they don’t even care. He’s having a blast, his cousin is in the class with him which makes them partners in crime. The poor teacher, I almost feel sorry for her. Today I was waiting to get the forms I still hadn’t filled out, and while I waited I check out the trophy case. And I shuddered. At the top was a huge photo of a squad of little girls, no older than 7 or 8, wearing make-up that resembled somethign a “lady of the night” would prefer. Bright red lips and cheeks, thick eyeliner, sparkly eye shadow up to their brows. And that’s just the make up. Here are little girls with nothing to show off and no clue what they should be showing off anywhere, yet I’ve seen strippers covering more of thier bodies. Tiny little skirts that you can see the “shorts” (they looked more like panties to me) sticking out and tiny shirts made to cover what would be breasts. In another 8 or 9 years!

After E’s gymnastics class the next class came in. This was the tumblers/pre-cheerleaders, girls aged 4-6. In short shorts with half their butts hanging out and tiny red tank tops letting it all hang out, not that there was anythign to ahng out anyway.

Why do little girls need to be so over sexualized? Why are mothers painting their innocent daughters up like hookers just to do cheers? These are little girls! The Dallas Cheerleaders look modest compared to what these girls are required to wear.

I’m so disgusted that I can’t even think straight. Right now E’s group can wear whatever they want as long as it’s comfortable. But next year he would be moved into the hang naked league. Sure he’s actually get to wear clothes, ut what would I be teaching him about the female body if I let him continue? What would he take out of it, seeing little girls half dressed shaking their butts? I can’t even imagine what kind of women these girls will grow into be.

children, girls, sexualized

I thought this was interesting. Where here in America homebirths are rare and there are a ton of misinformation and misleading facts given to pregnant women to try to get them all in the hospitals, according to this story the opposite is true in Holland. Though, as the story points out the rates of hospital births are increasing. I have to wonder how much of that is influenced by people realizing how rich they can get by making women feel like pregnancy is a disease and labor is a burden. I know I’ve done my research and time and time again homebirths have shown to be as safe or safer than hospital births. And a lot of that has to do with doctors and nurses constantly butting in trying to look like they are working enough to be worth the huge bills you’ll get at the end. The less interferance the less complicated the birth is. In my doula training we called it the waterfall effect. One thing leads to another then to another and pretty soon a normal labor has become a full on medical nightmare.

homebirth, childbirth

I was tagged by Kimzyn for a teaching meme. This one looks fun.

1. I am a good teacher because… I know my kids better than anyone else. I know what they need, what makes them tick, and what to do to encourage them.
2. If I weren’t a teacher I would be a… I have no idea. I guess if I choose to put my sons in public school instead of homeschooling I could be able to doula full time, maybe take some classes myself. When E was little I looked into getting a degree in Psychology.
3. My teaching style is… fun and flexible.
4. My classroom is… the world. Everything and every one is part of our classroom.
5. My lesson plans are… written on blank journal pages, tossed together in a folder, and organized around fun ideas I find. I pull them out as we go, do if we want, skip it if we don’t.
6. One of my teaching goals… not to sell them to the circus. No, to raise them to be healthy, happy, and in love with life.
7. The toughest part of teaching is… trying to talk about the elephants E found in his book while A’s on my lap nursing and lunch is burning in the kitchen.
8. The thing I love about teaching is… being home with my kids every day and watching them grow.
9. A common misconception about teaching is… that I can’t teach my kids everythign they need to know. Where there is a will there’s a way.
10. The most important thing I’ve learned since I started teaching is… to relax and just follow their lead. They’ll grow in their own time, I just have to let them shown me when.

I’m tagging: Christine, Lory, and Stacey. And everyone else too, of course.