Children Are People Too

Recently, my little Simon and I met some friends for lunch at a local cafe. We arrived, ordered our food, and then I told Simon he could pick out a drink for himself. He excitedly chose an Izze soda, knowing that this is the only soda I allow him to drink. (If you are not familiar, Izze is basically carbonated fruit juice with no added sugars or preservatives. And it is quite delicious.)

Full of excitement over meeting friends, and being allowed to have a special treat, he practically bounced across the cafe floor with his drink, to place it on the counter. The woman working at the counter began to ring us up. Simon politely said to her: “Excuse me,…”

“Hi!” She said to him. “Is that your drink?”

“Yes, and—” He began to reply.

“Your Mom is having a baby!” She interrupted him. “You must be excited!”

He again tried to speak, pointing to his soda: “This is—”

“Are you having a sister or a brother?” She again interrupted.

“No. This is—” Still pointing at the soda bottle.

“A baby sister or a baby brother? Do you know what you are having?” Her tone implied impatience with him, and yet she was not giving him time to reply. By now, I was feeling furious with this woman. My son was attempting to communicate with her, but she had her own agenda. Because he was not responding the same way an adult would, she was not respecting him, and not taking the time to listen.

He tried again: “But this is–” He was tapping the soda bottle frantically now, to show her what he was trying to talk about.

And again she interrupted: “You must be excited about the baby. What is it gonna be, a boy or a girl?”

Finally, Simon could not take it any more, and actually jumped up and down and wailed: “But I am trying to tell you something!”

She didn’t even hear his words, despite the fact that he was shouting them, because she was still grilling him over the gender of our baby. So this time I interrupted her. I reached out my hand, and stroked Simon’s hair. I leaned down to his level and said: “It’s ok honey.” Then, I looked back up at the woman and said: “He has been trying to tell you something that is important to him. He is very excited today.” I leaned back down to Simon and encouraged him: “Go ahead, Sweetie. Tell her what you want to say.”

She finally gave him room to speak. He spoke carefully and slowly now. I think he was afraid she would interrupt him again: “This is special soda that I get to have.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say, so she just replied “Oh yeah?” and finished our transaction.

Unfortunately, I don’t think she believed there was value in anything he had to say. I realize that not all adults know how to interact with children. However, at this point he was a customer in her cafe, and also a fellow human being. She was only interested in my pregnant belly, and thought he should be too. Of course he is, but it is a part of his everyday life. At that moment, getting a soda was much more thrilling and new, and he had a desperate need to express this to the other adult in front of him. Sure, she made an attempt to show interest in him by asking him questions, but it wasn’t genuine because she didn’t actually try to hear what he was saying.

He may have been barely able to see over the counter. He may have been wiggly, and silly, and young. However, that did not mean he was not worthy of being listened to. Children know when they are being talked down to or disregarded. They can sense it and it causes them frustration. (Just as it would for an adult.) This whole interaction may have only lasted a few minutes, but we encounter similar situations day after day. Added up all together they send a message that his opinions are less important because he is a kid, and that only grownups are worthy of being heard.

All adults, parents and non-parents, sometimes need to be reminded: Children are people too.

Future Cosmetologist?

Usually, when I get my hair cut, or even dye it purple, Simon is oblivious. Or, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. But today, when I got back home from the salon, he kept touching and patting my hair. Then, he asked to brush my hair. I am a sucker for having my hair played with, and also for indulging my child’s creativity when I can, so of course I obliged, and Jeramy snapped some pictures because it was so cute.

I know there are some people who think this an odd activity for little boys, and might even discourage them. When I worked in a toy store years and years ago, a Dad actually scolded his son for playing with a toy blow-dryer that we had set out. (It was really cool, and actually blew air!) Well, to all that poppycock I say nonsense! Men can style their hair too. Men can use blow dryers. And men can be barbers, hair stylists, cosmetologists, anything they want to be when they grow up. My own father went through cosmetology school, was a barber for many years, and even went on to teach cosmetology for ten years. My father is a straight man, who also likes to golf, play drums, and eat steak. He also happens to blow dry his hair every morning.

I could go on and on into a long diatribe on gender stereotyping in children, but I don’t feel like it right now. Instead I will just say that if you are ever having a bad day, you might try handing your toddler a hairbrush and letting them play with your hair. (Reminding them to be gentle, of course.) Yes, my hair got tousled and messy, but that was easy enough to fix. It was worth it for the very sweet bonding time with my little boy, where he got to be creative and also to do something caring for his Mumma.

Note: To see more about my haircut, take a peek over at my style blog.

Enjoy Every Moment

From the very first holler of “Mummaaa!” coming from my little guy (who was already out of his crib and on the potty, thanks to his Daddy), to the way he cuddled up in a ball on my lap in shyness at our music class, and even to the way he ran away from me, giggling, when it was time to put socks on his feet…today was just one of those days when I was a bit more aware of the emotions of motherhood. I am talking, in particular, of the gushy, lovey, adoring, and oh-so-proud emotions. (As opposed to the exasperated or exhausted variety of feelings that we all face as parents daily as well.)

Sometimes, I forget that Simon is only 20 months old. The deep connection I have to this tiny person, and the awe I feel at all that he does, are just so tremendous. I get lost in the little details of our days together and I notice the seemingly tiniest of accomplishments. At times he seems more like a wise little old man, at others like my best friend. One minute he is cracking me up at his highly developed sense of humor, and the very next I am so flabbergasted at the stubbornness he is giving me, over the simplest request. (Can I get an ‘amen‘ from anyone who has ever tried getting a toddler dressed?) Surely this complex range of emotions, and the depth of them cannot be caused by so young a person?

There is an article being shared all over the internet right now, written by a fellow Mom, about her daily motherhood experiences. I read it a few days ago, and nodded in agreement, and even chuckled right along until I got to the part where she states that the greatest joy of motherhood for her, is not during the day when she is in the act of parenting, but rather at the end, when she looks back over her day and can say she ‘has parented’. As my eyes read over those particular words, I could practically hear a record screeching to a halt. This is not to say I did not get her point, or that I do not relate to what she, and the oodles of other moms who commented in agreement deal with on a daily basis…but the very idea that the best part is when it is over…that just feels wrong.

For me, the true joy of motherhood is when he is right there in front of me, holding his spoon over his eyes (because he truly believes if his eyes are covered, that I can’t see the rest of him) playing peekaboo. It is when he stacks four legos together and holds his creation up over his head and exclaims: “Tada!“. It is when he runs to me for comfort when scared, and nuzzles deep into my neck. It is also in the great big glob of drool that he wipes all over my mouth when he gives me a goodnight kiss. (Yes, even then.) The joy is in the moment itself, not after.

Sure, there are those days. The ones that just physically drain me and leave me feeling like I have nothing left at the end. And yes, I do enjoy rehashing the day’s ‘Simon highlights’ with my husband, and laughing about the ridiculousness of it all, good and bad. But those moments are more about the shared bond of parenting I have with my husband, than what motherhood is all about.

The Mother who wrote that article is annoyed when “older ladies” approach her in the store and remind her to “enjoy every moment”. I know how hard doing so can be. When the bills are overwhelming, the car is making an ominous noise, the weather is crummy, the house is a total disaster area, and a little person is trying to climb your face while whining in your ear…I’ve been there. It is not fun. But that is what those people in the grocery store are there for. To remind us to focus in…to tune out the things that won’t matter in a year’s time, and back onto one of the few things that will.

Note: To read the article I am mentioning, check out “Don’t Carpe Diem” here.
And to read yet another take on the whole matter, read “Carpe Diem” here.

Celebrate Voting Day

What a gorgeous voting day we are having here! The weather is warm enough to wear short sleeves and a pair of flats, instead of the puffy vests and scarves I had already grown accustomed to. I put Simon in his stroller and we walked with some close friends to our voting place.

I have always believed Voting Day should be made a National Holiday. Give us all the day off! (Except, of course, those who have to work on National Holidays.) Make the big deal of this day that it deserves! Make it easier for everyone to vote, by giving them more time to do it. Let us all go stand in line together, to put in our voice, and then go home and celebrate having that voice.

And, you know, maybe some free coffee at the voting booths wouldn’t hurt either.

Happy Voting Day!

Just Let the Chocolate be Chocolate

I work at a coffee shop. I probably don’t even have to tell you the name of it, but will just say, chances are, there’s one near where you live. They are a really great company to work for, and for the most part, I really enjoy working there (I mean, I do scrub drains so it isn’t all wonderful).

We recently got in some new products. Two more sugar-free flavors-mocha and peppermint-to add to the four we already had to offer. Last night was the first time I worked when we had them. I am against artificially sweetened things, but I decided I should taste a sample anyway, in order to be familiar with it for customers, and to be able to describe it and make a comparison.

Personally, I thought it tasted terrible. It left that lingering artificial sweetener taste in my mouth for about two hours afterward, even when I sipped my own (with real chocolate, thank you!) beverage. I read some information that stated customers had been requesting these two flavors be offered in sugar-free form quite frequently.

As you probably can tell if you read my blog often, I am a coffee lover. I don’t just drink it for the morning energy boost, but I am also passionate about good, quality coffee and espresso, made just the right way. I also love a really good latte, and of course, the array of flavors they come in. In fact, the mocha and peppermint are one of my favorite combinations.

Now I get to the point… After experiencing the horrible aftertaste in my mouth, I got to wondering: “Why do we need more sugar-free?” I know there are many customers out there who would love it if all of our flavors came in a sugar-free alternative. I also know that there are some people, for example those with diabetes, who need to turn to alternative sweeteners on occasion in order to monitor their health. However, I also know that splenda, equal, sweet n’ low, etc. are used by many, many people as a means by which to diet. And this is where I get a little cranky.

I know what it is to crave a morning (and sometimes afternoon, as well) coffee. I know how important it can be to get through the day. I also know what it is like to have to watch how much sugar, fat, calories I consume. But my personal feeling, is that instead of turning to these artificial alternatives and their horrid aftertastes, we should instead learn to practice moderation. Is a drink with chocolate and peppermint in it really a morning coffee? Or is it more like dessert? I vote that it is the latter, and treat it as such. I don’t have one everyday, because it is a treat. So when I do have it, I have the real deal. (Sometimes I skip the whipped cream…it all depends on how much of a treat I feel I should have.)

Moderation is difficult to achieve. Especially with the world out there bombarding us with messages to consume, to shop, to collect all five. And obviously, this country in particular struggles to teach and to practice balance with food. I suggest that instead of looking for a way to allow ourselves to constantly indulge by artificially manufacturing a flavor, we teach ourselves to nourish our bodies regularly, and indulge more sparingly.

I know that some people might think “Well, I hate coffee unless it has a flavor, and I want to drink it everyday but I can’t drink it black like you.” This is a valid point. I suggest experimenting with other beverages like teas or Americanos, finding ways to tweak your latte so that you can enjoy it without splendifying it, or using the real sugar in the coffee and balancing that within your daily diet. I also know some people will tell me that they actually like the taste of that stuff. That is fine, but just remember that it is fake.

Why take something like chocolate, and try to deface it with a chemical treatment, in order to make it less indulgent, when that is what chocolate is? Why try to put it in the same category as a healthy breakfast food, when it belongs in the dessert category? I beg you…stop all the sugar-free madness and just practice a little moderation. By letting it be what it is meant to be, and saving it for a treat, I think you will love your flavored latte so much more.