Dear Moms (and Dads), Enough is Enough.

I read mom blogs all the time. I read as mothers across the country, sometimes the globe, lay their souls bare and share with the world the trials and tribulations they have lived through on their journey through motherhood. I read about frustrating experiences with other mothers, with coworkers, with strangers. I read about maddening encounters with 4-year-olds and 8-year-olds and teenagers.

I read these blogs and I want to wrap these mothers up in a warm hug. I want to tell them that I know they are doing the best they can. I want to tell them that I know that the tantrum their toddler threw in the supermarket does not define who he is. I want to tell them that I don’t know any better than they do. That we are all just figuring it out, one day at a time, one minute at a time, one child at a time.

And then, against my better judgment, I read the comments. Inevitably, among the kind words that appear in support of these struggling moms are words that have gone through a blade sharpener on their way to the comment thread. Words that tear mothers down at the very moment they are seeking support. It is not that people have varying opinions that makes my heart hurt; in fact, that part makes me smile. Constructive discussion is how we all learn! But, the venom. Where does it come from? 

I recently joined the ranks of these women sharing their stories. I’ve been blogging for years but rarely about personal incidents and not typically to a large audience. After an experience with my pediatrician left me uneasy, I felt that writing about it would help me process it. And it did. But, it also allowed me to be on the receiving end of some of these scathing replies. It was an eye-opening experience.

Internet comment threads are notorious for their nastiness and vitriol. Wise web users often advise to avoid them at all costs. Within the parenting community it is particularly upsetting. If you have children—whether they are still in diapers or on the playground or off at college—you are in this boat with me. We are all in this together.

There is not a parent among us who hasn’t struggled at some point. Children do not come with batteries or remote controls. They don’t come with user manuals or directions. They are people and they are all different and their needs change rapidly. We need to be supporting each other as much as we can. We need to be giving each other the benefit of the doubt. We need to approach parents – online and in person – with the assumption that they are doing their very best.

None of us has all the answers. It’s possible that in certain circumstances we believe our own methods would work better than the ones being employed by the mother in front of us, and maybe we’re right. But, so what? We need to collectively swallow the urge to tell other parents we could do their jobs better than they are doing them. We have not raised their children.

You don’t know me. The sliver of my life that I’ve shared with you online or that you witness in the supermarket or the toy store does not tell you everything there is to know. As we read people’s stories, as we watch their interactions, our brains are filling in the blanks. How about we all try and fill them in with compassion and positive assumptions? Nothing is gained by tearing each other down. We’re all working together to raise the next generation of good, kind, and respectful children. Let’s show them what that looks like.

We Need to Change the Vaccination Conversation

This is an open letter to all physicians and researchers who work to inform the population on the importance of vaccinations as well as to pro-vaccine advocates who engage in conversation with parents who have not or plan not to vaccinate their kids:

Hi. You don't know me so before I dive in I want to make one thing abundantly clear. I am extremely pro-vaccine. I myself received the DTaP and flu shots while pregnant with my children and have kept them both on the recommended schedule for immunizations. I always encourage people to make sure their children are vaccinated as well. As a mother, a social worker, and a concerned member of the community I am very concerned about the epidemic(s) that await us if people keep choosing to opt out of this necessary preventative measure.

It is precisely because of this concern and my desire to see as many children immunized as possible that I believe we need to work together to change the conversation. As a therapist, when a client tells me that she has tried the same approach over and over again and isn't getting her desired results, my response is simple: it's time to change your approach.

There has been very little real dialogue on this topic. Those in the pro-vaccine camp see the issue as black-and-white. It is a necessity to vaccinate children; anyone who does not is a fool. The assumption is that this choice is based on bad science ("vaccines cause autism") or sheer ignorance ("they're toxic") and that these assertions are best met with no response for fear of validating the entire anti-vaccination movement.

The truth is, though, that the majority of people choosing not to vaccinate their children are genuinely afraid. They are afraid not just of autism, but of real side effects that do sometimes occur. And ignoring people's fear or suggesting that they are stupid, or crazy, or just plain wrong, is not going to make them any more inclined to do as we say. 

When I was a camper at overnight camp we used to go swimming in a lake. There were little fish that lived in the lake that were, for the most part, harmless. Every once in a while, however, a fish would bite someone. It was fairly uncommon and not really a reason for avoiding the lake, but it was a legitimate concern for some, particularly those with a pre-existing fear of such things. In order to combat the epidemic of kids refusing to swim, the lifeguards and counselors used to tell us there were no fish in the lake. It was a lie. We knew it was a lie. We could see them! But somehow, they assumed, likely because we were children, that if they told us there were no fish we'd be reassured and would jump right back in the lake. The lie had the opposite effect, though. We knew there were fish and by failing to address that reality, those campers who were afraid felt neglected and ridiculed. They could no longer trust the very people who were supposed to be taking care of them. It would have been much more helpful to acknowledge the risk, have a discussion about what - if anything - was being done to minimize it, and promise to continue working on making the lake a safe place to swim. 

You see when you acknowledge a person's reason for being afraid, and you work with them to find a solution, you do much more for the cause than if you attempt to pretend there is no threat. Vaccines are, by and large, extremely safe. The good they do far outweighs the bad. But adverse reactions do exist. The CDC website acknowledges this explicitly. For a large number of anti-vaxxers these potential reactions are a real fear. Putting a hand up in their faces and saying there's nothing to fear is like saying there are no fish in the lake. The refusal to meet them where they are and to address their fears makes them feel abandoned by the medical community and reinforces the notion that doctors can't be trusted. They have spoken directly to parents whose children have suffered after receiving a vaccine. Any suggestion that it can't happen to their children is seen as a lie. 

People want answers. Or, at the very least, they want to feel like doctors care and are searching for the answers. What makes certain children more susceptible to some of these extremely rare complications? Are cases of adverse reactions to vaccines carefully reported? Are we being honest about what the numbers are? I am fully confident that the statistics would show that vaccines are incredibly safe, but these concerns need to be taken more seriously by everyone on the pro-vaccine side of the equation. If people feel like they aren't being told the whole truth, they will conclude they aren't being told any truth.

Make no mistake. People who are choosing not to vaccinate their children are making a grave error. I know it seems counter-intuitive to give credence to people who are making reckless and medically unwise decisions when it comes to the health of their children and the entire population at large. I have been scoffing rather loudly myself since the practice not to vaccinate became so widespread. But the fact remains that our collective goal is to help people see the importance, the necessity, of vaccination. Our current methods are not cutting it. The longer we make anti-vaxxers feel that their concerns are absurd and unwarranted the more they are going to be suspicious of our good intentions and feel that pro-vaxxers can't be trusted. There is no question that there is a major health crisis waiting for us if the vaccination rates continue to drop. But by not engaging in the right conversation we are doing nothing to fix the problem.

We've tried one approach. It's not working. It's time to try something new.

Mourning the Loss of Bill Cosby

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross knew how we would collectively react to the news of Bill Cosby. As more and more information comes to light and it becomes clearer and clearer that a man many of us loved throughout our childhoods is not who we thought he was. As woman after woman share stories of drugs and sexual assault. As the reality sets in that the beloved Heathcliff Huxtable was portrayed by a predator and we begin to understand that the Bill Cosby we've known and loved does not exist. Kubler-Ross knew: denial.

When I read the comments online - this is a thing I do that borders on masochism - I am not surprised by the many people coming to Cosby's defense.  Of course there are those who will always claim a woman is lying in situations like this - even when there are over a dozen of them, making the same claim over the course of decades. Even when there is proof of money paid to cover it up. But, there are also people who will eventually come around. People who honestly want truth, who believe in the pursuit of justice, but right now, at this moment, cannot process this information.

We were all played for fools. We allowed this man into our homes night after night, week after week, and we enjoyed our time spent with him. We believed that he was the picture of goodness, a family man with the ability to make us laugh until our sides hurt. His kindness and good humor seemed genuine. How could any of this be?

And yet, here we are. And it is almost too much to grasp. Years and years of deception. Laughs we cannot get back that make it feel like we've been complicit in this heinous behavior for a very, very long time. How are we to make sense of this cognitive dissonance? How are we to reconcile the death of this idea, this man who turns out to be a phantom? We cannot. And so we deny. We come up with theories about how this is all a lie. The accusations are false. They must be. There is no other explanation.

Except they are not. And together we are going to have to find a way to get through it. We are going to have to forgive ourselves for not knowing. We are going to have to admit that it is possible to be that good at hiding something this bad. We are going to have to commit to creating an environment where women feel safe to come forward about this kind of assault when it happens and not 30 years later. 

I am devastated by this loss. I feel like a big chunk of my youth was a lie. I think of all the times I have quoted The Cosby Show with my parents and sisters and I want to throw up. But, the fact that I can't fathom it doesn't make it untrue. We all have to come together and find our way through our grief, ultimately arriving at the last Kubler-Ross stage: acceptance. This really happened. No matter how badly we all wish it didn't.

We Need to Talk to Our Sons, but We Need To Talk to Our Daughters, Too

I have spent the last three years thinking about everything I want to make sure to teach my sons on their way to becoming men. When my oldest was 10-months-old I put together this list of points to counter the negative messages I noticed society was sending. This past May, I sat again, and compiled a new list for my boys. This one in response to a shooting in Isla Vista in which a male perpetrator claimed his killing spree was retribution for women refusing to sleep with him. 

I have championed the idea that victim-blaming is toxic, that it is not a woman's responsibility to dress conservatively, but rather it is a man's responsibility not to assault her. I stand by this as strongly today as I ever have. But, I worry that in that message we have put so much focus on what we need to be telling our boys that we have neglected to give our girls some very important information. In the wake of the harrowing piece in Rolling Stone magazine about rape and sexual misconduct on the University of Virginia campus, I had a startling realization:  women don't realize that being raped is a violent crime.

If in the midst of a fraternity party a man with a gun barged in and demanded that all party-goers empty their pockets, I feel confident that someone would call the police in the aftermath. Why is it, then, that students are quoted as saying that they didn't believe Charlottesville police had jurisdiction over what happens in a fraternity house? How is it possible that a woman could think that a violent rape is the kind of thing that should be handled at the discretion of school officials?

The ordeal described by Jackie in the Rolling Stone article is beyond appalling, but equally as disturbing is the reaction she received from her friends. People who saw her beaten, bloody, and clearly sexually abused advised her to keep her mouth shut so as not to rock the boat or ruin their social standing at the university. This response contributes to the severity of the problem almost as much as the assault itself. We are failing our children.

It's not something we want to think about. Nobody wants to consider the possibility that our children could be taken advantage of at all, let alone to such a horrifying degree. Nobody wants to imagine their daughters on the receiving end of what Jackie endured. But our daughters need to know. They need to know that if they should ever find themselves victims of sexual assault, getting examined immdiately is the best way to nail the offenders. They need to know that filing a police report is not only within their rights but that we encourage them to go after the boy(s) who did this to them. They need to know that they can call us and we will not judge them or get angry with them, but rather we will love them and advocate for them.

And then we need to put our money where our mouth is. We need to come together as parents, teachers, administrators and community members and support our girls. We need to be clear in our conviction that we won't stand for sexual assault on our college campuses, or anywhere else. We need to make sure that these boys/men know there are consequences.

I have been torturing myself reading comment threads on articles about Bill Cosby. So many people point to the lack of police reports at the time of the alleged assaults to suggest that the women who have come forward are lying. Women don't report abuse because they know they won't be believed and then when they finally find the strength to say something, they aren't believed because of the lack of report.

Collectively we need to teach our girls that their safety and their well-being matter. Those of us with boys need to commit to raising sons who understand the meaning of the word no and the importance of the word yes. We need to stress regularly that sex is not an entitlement, that women are allowed to turn them down without fearing repercussion, and that they only get to get laid when they find a willing partner. But even with all of that, some women will be assaulted. And when that happens, we need to make sure that those girls know exactly what has just happened to them and exactly what they can do about it.

Of course there is always an option not to report, and yes, a woman should know that is her prerogative. But it can't come from a place of fear. It can't be because she feels somehow responsible for being raped. If a woman wants to go after her assailant she should know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she is supported. End of discussion.

The One Thing Moms Need? A Confidence Boost

Parenting advice is everywhere. I can't be online for ten minutes without seeing lists upon lists upon lists of what I must do, or should never say, or can't live without.  No one ever considers the possibility that what worked for them might not work for me. It's never here are 5 things I'm glad I did, it's 5 things you must do before having a baby.

Don't get me wrong, a lot of these posts have great suggestions. And I understand the desire for a catchy title that will pull in a lot of views. But I can't help but feel irritated when I read something on 7 things to never say to new moms that I actually enjoyed hearing.  I once stumbled upon a blog where a mother cautioned her readers to "Never say 'let me know if there's anything I can do to help'" because a new mom isn't going to have time to delegate. OK, so there's some truth to that. But I loved knowing that so many of my friends were willing to make themselves available to me. I didn't actually need anything from them, I just liked knowing they were there should something come up. I may be alone in that feeling, and I don't expect anyone to intuit how I feel about something, but that's the point. These lists suggest that there's only one right way to experience these life events and it's just not so.

Sure, there are certain things that are universally agreed upon (never ask a pregnant woman if she's having twins), but for the most part, what bothers one person might not bother another. Families who have children with special needs, or have adopted children, or who have gone through the agonizing loss of miscarriage or infant death are all going to experience these events differently. There is no right way to proceed when approaching these situations, other than to try and be as sensitive to the needs of our friends as possible. Many people who have been through similar situations may agree on a lot of the items presented in these pieces, but there is still something misleading about presenting it as though they are rules.

When it comes to parenting, these lists make me even less sense. More and more we are seeing that families are made of all shapes and sizes. We are different races and religions. We are heterosexual couples and same-sex couples and single parents. We are stay-at-home moms and CEOs. We are wealthy and we are living in poverty. We are biological and we are adopted. We are younger and we are older. There is nothing uniform about families, so why are we so insistent on presenting bullet points to mothers about what they must or mustn't do to be successful? Why do we think that our experiences apply to everyone around us? It's a toxic outlook and one that parents feel at all times. Other parents watching them, judging them, thinking how they would do things differently.

The way I see it, the only thing a mother needs to do to be successful is confidence. She has to believe in the choices she's making. It doesn't matter if anyone else is making those choices, or if she's the first to try. It doesn't matter if people tell her she's making a mistake and that she's going to regret it later. We moms need to rely on our instincts and our knowledge of our own children. We need to empower ourselves to make the decisions for our families without feeling pressure from the parents around us. We need to allow for the possibility that we don't know what is best for the families around us. Sharing our own experiences can extremely valuable, but we have to stop suggesting that everything in motherhood is universal. It is not.

Dear Stay-at-Home Mom: What do you DO all day?!

Over the last few years I have come across blog posts and articles as well anecdotal facebook statuses and tweets written by stay-at-home moms, all making the same point: There is nothing more insulting than being asked what they do all day. Whether they've chosen to be home with their children because they can't imagine being anywhere else, or they've come to the conclusion that working out of the home is not financially feasible, or any other of the many reasons women stay at home, they all seem to agree on this one point.

Perhaps it is the way the question is phrased, or the intonation of the person who asks it, but the way it is received is most often as a belittling of the job of mother. Because this is how the question is heard, it is usually answered (when it's answered at all) with some generic response like "I'm molding a future generation" or "I'm raising my children," both of which are true, but don't actually answer the question.

I recognize why this question is hard to hear, especially given the history of feminism and the pressure women sometimes feel to work outside of the home. I also know that some people ask it in a way that is offensive and condescending and makes a woman doubt her choices, even when she is perfectly happy with them. But the truth of the matter is, it's a valid question - one that I could and would ask to anyone who has a job that I don't know very much about. I would likely use different wording, but the gist would be the same: So you're an accountant? What exactly do you do? No one I know with an outside-the-home job would be insulted by this question. I've asked my brother-in-law to explain what he does at least a half a dozen times; I still don't really understand it.

Instead of hearing the negativity, we need to be hearing this question as an opportunity to explain our lives to people who are unfamiliar with what it means to be home with children. Not only would it be helpful for the corporate-minded among us to have a better understanding of what stay-at-home parenting is (and it would be really helpful), but it would also start a dialogue that could greatly benefit parents.

I am currently home with my 3-year-old and 8-month-old and, especially as it gets cooler, every day is a challenge. If it's not a day with any classes or playdates, I wake up with this dread in my belly that we have the whole long day ahead of us. If it happens to be raining, then it's confounded by the knowledge that the park is not an option. I am constantly wondering to myself "what do other people do all day?" And every time the question pops up in my head I think about all the times I've seen women get frustrated by it. I realized that if I - a mother who is herself at home with kids - wonders about what stay-at-home moms are doing with their time, then it stands to reason that people who have always worked away from home would be curious as well.

Most people I speak to who have traditional "jobs" appear to be in awe that I spend all day with my kids. Their questions about what our days look like are genuine curiosity. If we want to make the claim that being at-home parents is as legitimate a job as any (and it most certainly is), then let's allow people into our secret club. Let's stop hearing this question as insulting - even if it is presented that way - and start sharing what makes the job the job - the good, the bad, the ugly, the exhausting, the messy, the funny, you get the idea.

A Guest Blog: An Open Letter To My Son's Teachers

Something a little different for the blog today. I was approached by the mother of a 6-year-old with special needs who had a particularly frustrating experience with her son's teachers. Exasperated by the lack of support she's received from the people who are supposed to be a part of her son's team, she asked if I would share this correspondence. Keep in mind that both the mom who wrote this letter and I know that there are many wonderfully skilled teachers out there working tirelessly to help their students navigate their challenges. This particular experience, however, is indicative of a problem and sharing it seemed the best way to call attention to it.  

Email from: [The Teachers]

Subject: [Your child]'s Morning

Good Morning,

We typically do not go on email at this time but we wanted to inform you about [your child]'s very difficult morning.  [Your child] came in to school shouting and making noises and appeared exhausted ( he was yawning). After returning from Art at 9:40am he began to cry. The crying lasted for almost 45 minutes on and off. Teachers attempted to coax him with strategies such as a bean bag and pillow, we tried taking him on a walk, and offered him his usual preferred activities in the classroom. He was throwing his glasses and appeared very distraught. We just want to inform you about what occurred this morning.

Also we wanted to inform you that the gate closes at 2:50PM and [your child] should be picked up at 2:45.  Three days this week the babysitter picked him up late.  Please inform your babysitter about the correct pick up time. Thank you,

[The Teachers]

An Open Letter to My Son’s Teachers:

Good Afternoon,

I do not typically respond with sarcasm and negativity to a situation, but I wanted to inform you of my gut reaction to your email, as both a teacher and a special needs parent.

Your email came into my inbox just as I was finishing my day of teaching and sitting down to a meeting with my colleagues.  When I finished reading at 12:40 pm, I began to cry and had a hard time focusing on my work for the rest of the day.  I wondered if I should come to pick up my son, but you had neither mentioned that, nor called me at work to ask for someone to come get him. I wondered if he was still crying as you sent me this email.  I decided you were probably sending it to vent to me about my horrible parenting job and your frustration with him, me, and the system that placed him in your class.

 I realize that my son is a handful  -- an enigma -- and that it can be particularly challenging to work with him when he becomes frustrated, especially given that he has practically no language through which to vent his frustrations.  I understand you have over 30 children in your class and your email makes it perfectly clear, to me, that you really don’t want to have to deal with this child as well.  I’m also aware that in erroneously complaining last June, when I was told two days before the end of the school year that this public school was no longer an “appropriate setting” for my child, that I had been given “no warning” about the situation, that I probably brought this email upon myself.  Now, you see, I have had my written warning that your school is not an “appropriate setting” for my child.  This is a conclusion I have already come to myself but, funny enough, schools don’t seem to have “appropriate” spaces for tricky special needs children who apply mid-July for the upcoming September.  And it really eases my anxiety about the one interview we did go on, when you ask me at the conclusion of almost every written and face-to-face communication “How did the interview go?  Have you heard back from any schools yet?”  Perhaps the only thing harder than finding a space in a school for a special needs child in July of the same year you are looking at is trying to do it in September for that same year.  So, thanks for your support.  

Thank you for easing the burden that weighs heavily on my shoulders as I leave the house each morning to go teach other people’s children (some of whom are just as tricky as my own special needs child).  Thank you for realizing that as parents of a child who has, at most, 50 words and can reliably use about 15 of those, my husband and I are totally and completely disconnected from the world at school and rely on your ability and expertise to guide our child (and us) through this situation.  Thank you for loving our child the same way you would hope someone would love your child. 

I apologize for my child’s yawning in class.  His bedtime is 6:30 pm.  I might be able to make that earlier, but you see, I myself get home from teaching young children around 3:30 pm.  I spend about ten minutes in the bathroom and changing into comfortable, paint-germ-and-booger-free clothes.  I then spend a few minutes trying to give both my special needs child and my ebullient two year old equal attention, since they both are clamoring for some of my affection and my husband is still at work.  I say thank you and goodbye to my caregiver and once I get them “calm” (and you know why that’s in quotes) I ask them about their days and they respond about as reliably as a two-year-old and six-year-old with a speech disability can.  I can’t ask my child who he played with that day.  He can’t tell me.  He screams and cries, and sometimes smacks me in the face and says “No!”  Because I’ve just asked him to do about the most frustrating thing I can ask of him.  Something you, and I, and just about everyone short of Stephen Hawking takes for granted.  To make his mouth reliably work.  I’m sure if I could attach a speaker to his brain, that he’d literally be shouting all this stuff from the rooftops.  He’s (despite your report of this morning) a happy, sociable, humorous, loving guy who is always trying to make connections with other people and share these connections with his family. 

The same motor-planning disorder that traps my son’s words in the depths of his head, also keeps the rest of his motor-planning a bit wonky, so that when we move on to the next part of our day (completing the homework assignment, which is neither vaguely appropriate for my child nor based on the modifications laid out by his IEP) we encounter even more frustration than ever before.  He bites me, his shirt, the pencil.  Throws the sheet on the floor.  I am left to modify the assignment to my best ability because there has been no communication from you as to the expectations you have of him.  (Thank G-d I have dual degrees in special education and over a decade of experience in the field.  I think it was all for this moment)  And, at this time of the night I have an abundance of patience, too, since I’ve only been doing this same work for 6 hours with my own class of well over a dozen three-year-olds with varying identified and unidentified needs.  But I’ll do it for another hour for my own child.  Because if not me, then who?

This brings us to 5:00 pm and I’m so excited to start cooking dinner for my children.  I don’t eat with them.  When I do, I end up scarfing it down and getting indigestion, so I wait for them to be finished before eating (or making) my own dinner.   Just to inform you, I do let them watch television while I cook.  And then, after placing the dishes on the child table in front of my son and daughter, I get to sit on my hands, and my patience, and watch as my hard-working son battles his motor-planning disorder for the umpteenth time today as he struggles to get whatever meal I’ve prepared onto his fork or spoon and into his mouth.  Most of the time he gives up after 3 bites and starts using his hands, before he gives up altogether and just stops eating.  Sometimes his two-year-old sister feeds him.  Usually I end up doing it myself after watching a half-hour of his struggle.  But I still carefully plan his meals and place them on dishes with special suction or sides that are used for 9 month olds learning utensil control, because I want to foster his independence and (someday) break his reliance on (literally) being spoon-fed.  Usually around 6:30 pm I smell my son, inspect his face and hair and have an internal debate on whether or not giving him a bath is worth the time it takes away from his sleep.  It’s a 50-50 shot.  So my son heads in, once again unarmored against his motor-planning disorder, this time to undress and re-dress himself in his pajamas.  Because, the kind of thoughtless mother I am, also thinks he needs to learn how to do this independently and that practice is the only way for him to form this habit.  He often screams in frustration when two legs go in the same pant hole or bites his shirt instead of putting it on his head.  It makes me extremely proud and contented to watch.  Just to inform you.   So, I apologize.  Even after 13 hours of sleep (sometimes a very insufficient 10-12), my son is tired and yawning at 9:40 in the morning.  I won’t detail what the hours between 7 and 8:35 look like at our house, or what might be causing him to tire between 8:35 and 9:40 at school, but you can imagine what waking up, eating breakfast, getting dressed, walking to school, etc. consists of for a child whose words and body don’t do what he’d like them to do, when he wants, every time he tries.  And that the only consistency for him is that this is always inconsistent and unpredictable.  This is just to “inform” you about our child’s (and our) daily routine, so that I can vent some of my frustrations to you (since we’re all sharing). 

Also, I want to inform you that we have only had three pick-ups this week, and I did one of them.  I was at the gate at 2:45, no students or teachers were there and they were locked tight.  They did open at 2:55 and I proceeded straight towards you.  My babysitter is an amazing young woman who manages to care for both my strong-willed and extremely verbal two-year-old in addition to my tricky and often frustrated (and strong) six-year-old special needs child.  She gets paid for her job, but should be earning a special educator salary considering the patience and education she gives to both of my children, not to mention for putting up with being yelled at and blamed incorrectly by teachers for being 5 minutes late.  I also ask her to do this job for me because at this point, I’m not sure I can stretch a smile across my face when I see you in person, and I was taught to say nothing if I couldn’t think of something nice to say.  I apologize again, because I think this letter is in direct contradiction to that last sentence.

Thank you,

Name WithHeld

On Realizing I Love My Toddler's Tantrums

Ok, so the title may be a bit misleading. I don't know that I'd go so far as to say that I love seeing my little guy in the throes of misery - crying, kicking, and screaming his frustrations out, all at the same time. Especially if we happen to be in public. Like many parents, I would consider my child having a mega meltdown in a supermarket aisle to be a low point of motherhood. However, I have come to realize that tantrums provide me with unique and often exhilarating opportunities as a mother. I have begun to really cherish them. Let me explain.

Parenting a toddler is tough. There are so many conflicting ideas at play. Their lack of understanding of danger and consequence vs. our need to keep them safe; their affinity for exploration vs. our fear of severe injury or property damage; their intense desire to have things their way vs. our desire for the exact same thing.  I find it is a constant tug of war, seeing how much rope I can allow him to have before I need to yank him back in my direction. Finding the balance is always a struggle and I often feel like we are stuck in this cycle of battles. Nearly every attempt to play together gets thwarted by something. Sometimes it's his inability to sit for more than a few minutes at a time, other times his unwillingness to actually learn the rules of a game. I'm more than happy to make things up as we go along (and some of our most successful activities are ones that evolve out of nowhere), but it often feels like we aren't having as much fun as we used to.

A lot of it has to do with the tantrums. Inevitably, when my son and I are playing together, something will happen to set off a fit. The other day we were just sitting down to play a game of memory when he asked me to a refill his bowl of Cheerios. I told him he could absolutely have more if he ran into the other room and brought me the bowl he had been using. He categorically refused, shrieking and crying that I had to go get it.  The hardest part for me is that I am regularly caught off guard. Sometimes I can make a request like this one and he will say "sure, Mommy," and without missing a beat he's off to the other room. It's tough to know when something is about to happen because his reactions are so inconsistent. In this instance, he cried for a while until he decided it was more important to have the Cheerios and he went to get the bowl. The point, however, is that it is not uncommon for things like this to derail our fun time together.

The question is, how can I get us past the tantrums and back to a place where we can have some fun? I started thinking about these tantrums and the most effective ways to help him through them. What I have come to understand over the months is that my son (and I recognize this is not something that will work for everyone) responds incredibly well to being distracted.  The sillier the distraction, the more successful it tends to be. I've begun getting completely ridiculous with my son whenever he gets into an irrational place. And you know what has happened? We've started laughing a lot. We don't need to get past the tantrum so we can get back to having fun because getting past the tantrum is fun in itself.

I suddenly find myself in a constant state of creativity. How can I make this child happy again? I pull from songs and books and movies he loves. I sing lyrics incorrectly, I mix up characters and family members, I quote books with absurd accents. These tantrums have presented me with a chance to regularly challenge myself to connect with him. They send him to a place where he is irrational and unreachable and I have the tools to bring him back. The emotions of a 3-year-old are so fluid, he can go from misery to giggly in a matter of moments. 

Toddler tantrums have the ability to send us spiraling into a bad place. They are loud and often ridiculous and incredibly frustrating. My knee-jerk reaction was (and still is) to get angry, but I've learned that it mostly just escalates things (doesn't anger always?). One day I do hope that the tantrums subside, but for now, while this behavior is age-appropriate and expected, I'm enjoying the fun it's afforded us.

Five Lessons I've Learned From My Toddler

I wrote a post a while ago about how terrified I was to have a second child. I had many fears about what it would be like to add a fourth person to our family dynamic. As is often the case with worry, the things that were on my mind weren't quite the things that have turned out to be difficult. In the last seven months, the biggest challenge I've faced as a parent is how to handle the woes of toddlerhood.

My older son is three years old and incredibly independent and strong-willed. Most of the behavior he exhibits is totally standard toddler behavior. Some of it is directly related to dealing with having a sibling. My instincts on how to deal with his tantrums and refusal to follow the rules of the house are not always so good. It has (and will continue to be) a work of trial and error. It's tough especially because sometimes what I want to do (ignore him) and what I'm able to do (he's sitting down in the middle of the street for this fit) are at odds with each other.

Over the course of the last few months I've picked up a few tricks that have worked better than others. I am sharing them here for two reasons. One, I like to write things down so that I can reference them when I need a reminder. And two, maybe some of these things that have worked for me will be helpful for someone else. I recognize that all children are different and it's possible your toddler and mine will not respond in the same way to the same interventions. This is not a list of suggestions, it is merely a collection of lessons I have personally learned from one specific three-year-old. I would love to hear your thoughts, though, if you have come to similar conclusions or if you have had opposite experiences.

Lesson 1: The good moments can become bad moments and vice versa VERY quickly.

This is something that both distresses and comforts me when dealing with my son. We can be playing nicely together, enjoying each other's company, when something seemingly minute will set him off and lead to a complete meltdown. Forty-two pieces into a forty-eight piece puzzle and suddenly two of the pieces come apart when I accidentally lean on it. Instant frustration, and the next thing I know he has destroyed the whole thing in a fit of anger and tears. I am often caught off guard by the speed at which he can go from perfectly happy and pleasant to shockingly angry and destructive. But, the flip side of this is that it goes the other way as well. When I watch him in the throes of these tantrums, I think that if I were to get that riled up it would take me a very long time to calm down. That isn't the case with him. The slightest thing can distract him from his fit and settle him right back into a playful mood. With tears still stuck to his cheeks he can be smiling from ear to ear. The emotional pendulum is constantly in motion and what I've learned is that it always swings back in the other direction.

It's good to keep this in mind through the tough moments, because I know there isn't much I need to do to help him get past it. Distractions are helpful sometimes, but for the most part if I'm able to let it run its course, he comes back all on his own. And it's good to keep in mind when we are having a good time because it helps me to not take the sudden shifts too personally. If there is something specific I have done to make him upset, I can certainly try not to do it again, but the fact is, this is who he is right now. He expresses himself through these tantrums. We're working on using words and it won't always be like this, but right now, this is age appropriate behavior. It's helpful for me to remember that when our special time gets briefly interrupted.

Lesson 2: Speak to the baby the same way I speak to him

One of the toughest things for my toddler (M) is figuring out how to deal with his baby brother (S). When S was first born, it was less of an issue, but now that he can crawl and grab and get into his big brother's things, it's starting to cause some tension. I do my best to keep the baby out of M's way while he's playing, but I also can't (and don't want to) have S in my lap for the next three years. It's important, I think, for M to learn how to tell his brother what he wants rather than shoving him (or worse) when he wants to be left alone.

What I noticed, though, is that my reactions in these scenarios is almost always geared towards M. "He's just a baby, he doesn't realize he's pulling your hair." "Please don't push him." "Can you give him something else to play with if you don't want him to touch your blocks?" Everything I've said is true, and even fair, but in putting myself in his shoes, it occurred to me that it must seem like this baby can do no wrong. What I've started doing is addressing S as well so that M can hear my give them both instructions. I don't want M to feel like this perfect baby came along and made me get angry at him all the time. So now, I'll say things to the baby like "S, those are your brother's toys and he's using them right now" or "Don't pull your brother's hair, that hurts him!" The fact that the baby doesn't understand what I'm saying is irrelevant. It gives M the impression that the same rules apply to both of them. He has to be respectful of the baby, but the baby also has to be respectful of him.

Lesson 3: Transitions are way easier when they aren't sudden

One of the worst mistakes I make is when I'm so busy running around getting us ready to leave the house that I forget to mention that we are, in fact, about to leave the house. When I finally have us all packed and ready to go, I say "OK, time to get in the car" and I'm met with a massive reaction because he was in the middle of a book or project or TV show. This is also true of leaving friends' houses, getting dressed, taking a bath, going to sleep or really any other activity at all. Any time we have to transition from one thing to the next, a warning makes an incredible amount of difference. Telling M he has 5 minutes, then 3 minutes, then 1 minute until we X, prepares him and 99% of the time mitigates the ensuing tantrum. Sometimes he still has a hard time, but it is always better than the full-fledged freakouts that happen if I forget to give him the heads up. Most of the time, we count down the last ten seconds and then he readily comes along to the next thing.

Of course there are plenty of kids for whom this wouldn't make such a big difference, but I think the reason it's an important lesson is because of the drastic difference between the two approaches. As I said, it's a lot of trial and error and the bigger lesson here is that sometimes a small tweak can make all the difference.

Lesson 4: Who wants to be on someone else's schedule all the time?

On the days that M goes to school, sometimes I eat breakfast before I take him. Sometimes, I am not that hungry when I wake up so I wait til after I get back home. Some days I eat lunch by noon, other days not until two. It is entirely up to me to decide when I'm hungry and when I will eat. That's not the case for M. For him, it's lunch time when I say it's lunchtime. And if he's not interested in eating at that time, it has the potential to turn into an argument. Finally, I realized that it would be very unpleasant for me if someone else was deciding when I should eat.  At the same time, I don't want to be a 24-hour diner, either, ready to get up and serve him whenever he decides. And so I've started preparing his lunch, leaving it on the table, and telling him he can go eat it when he's ready.

I try and apply this logic in other areas as well. The biggest toilet training fights we have are when I try and force him to sit when he doesn't think he has to go. This one is a bit tougher because he has the tendency to be wrong about this and I really don't want him to pee on the carpet. Still, what I've found is that if I don't bother him and I just remind him from time to time that the bathroom is there if he needs it, he typically goes all on his own.

Which brings me to the most important thing I've learned. 

Lessson 5: He needs to be able to do things on his own terms  

Nine times out of ten when M is having a really tough time it is because I am trying to control what he's doing. I remember one particular time when I was trying to get his shoes on and he was wriggling and kicking and generally making it impossible. "Stop it!!!" I screamed at him. "No Mommy," he wailed back, tears streaming down his face "You stop it!!!" And then I tried to imagine what it would be like if someone three times my size had me pinned down doing something that I didn't want her to do. So I asked myself, does he need his shoes on to get into the car? No, I guess he doesn't. And then I said to him "M, if we go in the car without our shoes on, when will you be ready to put them on?" And he said "Before we go to the playground" And that was that. We drove without the shoes and I put them on him before getting out of the car.

It was a moment of clarity for me, because so often I assert my will without considering what his needs are. The fact is that there are many small decisions that occur within the larger ones. It may be that I am making the call that we're meeting friends for dinner. He doesn't get a say in that, at least not always. But what decisions can he make? Where can I let him have a little more control? The amazing thing is that the more I let him come to conclusions on his own terms, the more he comes to the ones I want him to reach. Whereas when I push my agenda onto him, he naturally rebels against it in an effort to establish his own will.

As my father always taught me, children are just short people. It's important to treat them like human beings. The most common thing I ask myself now is how would I feel if someone did to me what I am doing to him. If the answer is that I would feel angry or disrespected, I have to try and find a different way to get what I want from him.

Dear Boys, #YesAllWomen

My dearest boys,

If you've seen me crying over the last couple of days it is because I am overwhelmed yet again with senseless gun violence. On Friday night a young man killed six people because, as he explained, he was getting revenge against all the women who had ever rejected him. In his mind, the unwillingness of women to have sex with him and the willingness of those same women to have sex with other, obviously less deserving men, was a terrible injustice that needed to be addressed. On top of the terrible tragedy that has left more American families devastated and broken, there are reactions to the shooter's justification that have been appalling and alarming. There seem to be people out there who think that there is a place for sentences that begin with "Well, maybe if one woman would have just given him a chance..." Let me be very clear, boys. There is no place for it.

As boys who will one day grow in to men, there are certain things I want to make sure you understand. There is a culture that we have allowed to exist in America that makes men think women are property. It is a subtle message and most men, if asked, would not acknowledge that this is how they think of females. And yet, the rhetoric, the expectations, and the way blame is assigned point to something very sinister.

So, I've made you a list of things to remember. A lot of these are concepts that I hope to teach you over many years, by talking with you honestly about my life and experiences and calling attention to moments that I think can be helpful in teaching you important lessons. But, I also thought that for future reference it would be good to have these things written down. I probably won't be ready to show you this for some time. Sex and intimate relationships are a ways off, given that you just recently learned you have a penis, but someday we'll go through this list and I'll reiterate its importance often. It is likely incomplete, and so I will continue to add to it as I think of more. Maybe some of the people reading this can help out and add their own suggestions as well.

So, here we go*:

1. Sex is not something that you are entitled to. You get to have sex when a woman decides she wants to have sex with you, and you want to have sex with her as well. That's the only acceptable scenario.

2. The reward for being a good friend to a woman is that you get to have her as a good friend. A woman doesn't owe you anything for being a decent human being. If you aren't interested in the friendship, then don't pursue it. But being a good friend does not entitle you to gratitude sex. See number 1.

3. Getting rejected stinks. It crushes the ego, makes us doubt our own worth, and can leave us feeling incredibly hurt. None of that is pleasant. But it's part of life. There is nothing about being a male that means you shouldn't have to feel those things. Hopefully over the course of your life you will develop skills for coping with some of these challenging emotions. I hope to help you do just that. Please don't ever think that someone has done something wrong for making you feel these things. She has not. Loving you is not a requirement of everyone in the human race, despite how easily it comes to me.

4. There are certain things you will never understand because you are not women. That's okay. But what's not okay is dismissing what a woman tells you about her experiences with men because you are not that kind of man. You can't possibly know what it feels like to be female. So, if a woman is telling you about it, listen. You might actually learn something.

5. A woman's clothes have absolutely nothing to do with consent to have sex. Either she says she wants to have sex with you or she doesn't. The idea that a woman's outfit can be at fault for unwanted sexual advances a) puts blame on a victim and b) suggests that the man who made the advances was not in control of his own actions. You are always in control of your actions. 

6. If you are at a party and you see a girl being taken advantage of, do something.

7. Talk to me. Or your father. Or each other. I don't really care who. But don't feel like you have to hide all your feelings. Having feelings and talking about them does not chip away at your manhood. What it does do is give you an outlet for dealing with some of the tough stuff. You are, first and foremost, a human being. We all have feelings. Some of them are wonderful, some of them are pretty miserable. It's important to be comfortable with both.

8. So we're clear. All of this is important. But most important of all - it's never okay to physically harm another person. End of discussion. It doesn't matter how the person made you feel. Or how wrong she was. Violence. Never. Okay. 





*Of course I recognize that you may not be interested in women at all. In that case, filter out what still applies. I'm sure we can make a whole other list of things to consider when approaching your relationships with other men.

The Most Important Lesson I'm Trying to Learn

It's become my mantra.

I say it to myself over and over again.

But, sometimes, it's really hard to do.

Don't take it personally. 

We, mothers. We love and we provide and we play. We do all that is asked of us and more. We read and we tickle and we kiss. We cook and we feed and we tuck in. We give and we give because that is our job, and we ask for little in return, because that's the nature of the position. It's not about getting anything back, it's about the giving, providing and teaching. But, sometimes, in order to do this job successfully, we do need to put in a request. Usually a seemingly small one ("come here, so we can put on your shoes," "hold my hand so we can safely cross the street"). And when that request is met with a defiant "no" or a tantrum of epic proportions or an invitation to begin a game of "catch me if you can," it's hard not to feel like it's about making our lives difficult. But,

Don't take it personally. 

Toddlers are fascinating humans. They are learning the ins and outs of their world. They are exploring every facet of existence and figuring out how just how far they can push the limits of the people around them. As awful as their resistance can feel sometimes, it is actually what they are supposed to be doing. We each have our own ways of figuring out how to deal with our children and different tactics are going to work for different families. But, for me, more than figuring out how to work through the challenging behavior is the importance of realizing that the behavior itself is not being employed as some sort of punishment for me.

Don't take it personally. 

The way children grow and develop tends to leave us unprepared for toddlerhood. They start out knowing nothing and needing us for every aspect of life. As time goes on and they learn how to fend for themselves they (hopefully) begin to establish some independence. Again, this is what we want to happen. And yet, that desire not to conform to what's being asked of them, to insist on doing things their own way in their own time can sometimes feel like a major slap in the face. Additionally, as our children get older and seem to understand so much of the world around them, it seems impossible that they can't sense how close to the brink we sometimes are. There are moments when I just can't believe that my son doesn't realize how badly I need his cooperation. His inability to just do the simple thing I am asking feels like betrayal. And yet.

Don't take it personally.

And, not taking it personally does not mean that it's not personal. It is. But not in the sense that it's a personal attack against me. It's personal in the fact that it has to be a sign that I'm doing something right. My son's comfort in fighting me on the everyday details of life tell me that he understands my love is unconditional. He is not afraid to push me. If nothing else, that must mean that he knows innately that I'm not going anywhere. It may make it significantly harder to do my job and it may even feel spiteful at times. But, it's not about hurting me. Or punishing me. Or being ungrateful. It's about growth and learning. It's about testing and evolving. It's about being a toddler.

Can We Please Stop Talking About the Texting?

I can't decide what I find more frightening - the notion that a man could go to the movies with his wife and be shot dead in the middle of the theater by a man in the row behind him, or the fact that in the aftermath of this horror show the national discourse seems to be about the ramifications of texting during a movie.

Let me tell you something about Curtis Reeves. He was a disaster waiting to happen. A 71-year-old man, walking around with a concealed weapon and the legally sound idea in his mind that if, at any moment, he should perceive a threat, he is within his right to shoot to kill. This is a recipe for tragedy.

That anyone is discussing whether Chad Oulson should have left the theater to text his daughter boggles my mind. This has absolutely nothing to do with the massive problem we are facing as a country. People behave badly sometimes. In grocery stores, in movie theaters, in parking lots - you name it. Somehow we have given our citizens the idea that killing others is an acceptable way to respond to a mild nuisance - as long as you can pretend that you were afraid. How far away are we from someone claiming he feared a mother of three was going to use her minivan as a weapon as she swooped in to a parking spot he was waiting for? If Reeves could be so quick to draw his weapon and use it lethally, why would anyone assume that he wouldn't have done so had someone stepped on his foot on the way to the bathroom?

In the wake of the horror in Newtown and the myriad of other mass shootings we have lived through over the course of the last few years, the NRA would have us believe that the answer to the situation is more guns. The saying I've heard over and over is that "the only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun." Well, thank you Curtis Reeves for showing us exactly why that argument is a dangerous one and should be dismissed immediately. Curtis Reeves was supposed to be one of the good guys. And you know who he stopped? A 43-year-old father who made the mistake of wanting to see a movie in the middle of the day. And you know why? Because we've allowed him to think it was what he was entitled to do.

There is only one thing that could have and would have stopped Curtis Reeves from killing Chad Oulson on January 13th: not having a gun. It's as simple as that. A fight may have begun, punches may have been thrown, two grown men may have been thrown out of a movie. But no one would be dead.

Why Social Media is Actually Great for a Mother's Mental Health

This morning I read an article in the Parents section of The Huffington Post about the falseness of family life that is depicted by parents through social media. In this article, Megan Davies Mennes makes a point I've heard several times. She discusses how ridiculous it is that parents use sites like Facebook and Instagram to post photos of their children that paint the most idealistic pictures of what their lives with their children are like. She comments on how these photos show nothing of what happens in between the few perfect moments and claims that we are essentially lying to the world about what goes on in our homes. I've heard this argument made in other places as well, and I recall one particular article suggesting that we are doing a disservice to our friends who are struggling as mothers when we make it look like our lives are a picnic.

And the truth is, there is merit in what these articles are saying. Being a parent is challenging on the best of days and to suggest to others that your life is a breeze or that your children are perfect angels is dishonest no matter who you are. But, I don't really believe that's what's parents are trying to do. Nobody shares the negative details of their lives on social media - so why should parents be any different? I see photos of couples out enjoying themselves all the time. Does that mean they never argue? Does it mean that all the moments off-camera are as pleasant as the ones in front of it? Of course not. They just choose not to share their less pleasant moments with me and the rest of their friends. People often post pictures of beautiful sunsets and beaches. Strangely no one seems to share photos of the sky on gray, overcast, miserable days. That doesn't mean that it never rains where they live. It just means they recognize the beauty in a specific instant, and want to share it.

Additionally, and more importantly, there is an important piece of this conversation on parents and social media that is being overlooked. Being at home with young children, whether full time or not, can be an isolating and tremendously overwhelming experience. One of the traps that parents can fall into is getting so caught up in the difficult aspects that they miss the wonderful moments that pop up from time to time.

The desire to capture moments to post on social media sites creates a situation where parents are specifically looking to appreciate small moments. Do I think it would be wonderful if parents looked to appreciate these moments on their own, without feeling the need to share them publicly? Sure. But, it also can't be ignored that the presence of social media has led many parents to pay more attention to how fun, silly, and sweet their sometimes difficult children can be. It's so important for parents to be able to pause for a second and enjoy the little things, for their own well-being and for their children's. It's good for the parenting soul, it provides the fuel that helps power us through the tantrums and the arguments and the sleepless nights. Who cares what the impetus behind it is?

From what I see on television and in film and in general out in the world, parenting tends to get a bad rap. Parents are portrayed as being miserable and often seem to be pining for the days before their children came along and ruined everything. It's hard for me to think that a few pictures of smiling, cuddly children are going to suddenly make everyone think that the lives we're leading as parents are the most carefree days of our lives. If anything, the message these photos should be sending is "sure, everything you've heard about being a parent is true, but there's also some awesomeness - stay tuned to see some of it."

Leaving Babies in Carseats - On Realizing it Could Happen To Me

When I first had my son, a friend of mine told me about an article she'd read about babies dying when their parents had accidentally left them in their carseats for extended periods of time. This friend went on to inform me of the recommendation that parents leave their purses, laptops or briefcases in the backseat with the child, so as not to head in to work for the day without peeking in the back and making sure it's empty. Apparently, I thought at the time, we are conditioned to remember our cell phones more than our children.

I recall scoffing at my friend. If not to her face, then certainly when I recounted the conversation to my husband. I brought the conversation up with friends of mine - some who were parents, some who were not - and each time I adamantly expressed that I could not fathom leaving a child in a car or needing some kind of back-up plan to ensure I didn't make that error. I had the same thought that many people have upon hearing a horror story like this - what kind of a parent forgets about a baby?

But, part of what makes being human so special is the ability to recognize when we've made a mistake. Our ignorance is dangerous to our well-being and sometimes we don't even realize the ways in which we are just plain wrong. For me, this is one of those cases. I reread a 2009 article from the Washington Post yesterday dealing with this epidemic. It is called hyperthermia - when babies literally overheat from being in the car too long. It is an incredibly traumatic piece of writing, filled with images and scenarios that could give a person nightmares for years.

I realized after I read it that I was having a really hard time thinking about anything else. Initially, I thought this was because, as I said, the article was very descriptive and disturbing. But upon further reflection, I came to the conclusion that the reason this article was haunting me so much was the understanding I have after two years of motherhood that this could potentially happen to me. Not because I am a bad mother or because I don't love my son enough. On the contrary, I like to think I'm a pretty decent mother and it would be impossible for me to love my son more than I already do. But I now understand that bad things can happen when the right set of circumstances come together.

Consider these two facts:

1. My son is in daycare three days a week. On the days he is not in daycare, we often make plans to go to friends houses or museums. I cannot tell you how many times I have gotten in the car on a non-daycare day and instinctively driven in the direction of daycare. Sometimes I get all the way there before realizing that's not where I meant to go.

2. A few weeks ago, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up one or two things before getting my son from daycare. Then, I picked him up, drove home and brought him inside, leaving the groceries in the trunk. I had to throw away milk, eggs, and produce after it sat in the heat of my trunk for hours before I remembered it.

I understand that it seems like a baby is different. I understand that to the typical, functioning, non-stressed out brain, it seems impossible to forget about another human being. But what's important - imperative - to understand is that our brains go into autopilot. The reason I've driven to daycare so many times on days I don't need to go there is that I'm not actively thinking about what I need to do. I have a routine and my brain automatically follows it. If that routine gets changed for some reason - and in the large majority of these tragic cases, that is exactly what has happened - the brain often doesn't remember to make the adjustment.

The complexity, however, is that it thinks it has. Many of these parents report that when the sitter called to find out where the baby was, the response was 'What do you mean? Isn't he with you?' Their brains have checked off the box that says they've taken care of everything that needs taking care of. It's exactly what my brain did with the groceries. I didn't remember leaving them in the car until I went into the fridge for the milk and it wasn't there. I thought I had done it. It's not that I was careless because the items in my car didn't hold a lot of value to me. In fact, I was really pissed at myself for wasting all that food. It happened because I was doing many things at once and I got distracted and I thought I'd done what I intended to do. I am not so sure I couldn't have done the same thing on a much more horrific scale given the contributing circumstances that are present in most of the reported cases of hyperthermia.

I bring this up for a couple of reasons. One, I am always saying that, as parents, we need to judge each other less, and that is never more true than in these situations. I was right there two years ago, thinking that these parents must be morons or at least extremely neglectful people. But, really, these parents are just human beings who are juggling jobs and responsibilities like all of us are and whose momentary brain dysfunction led to the ultimate loss. There is no experience worse than losing a child, except perhaps losing a child due to something you did. These people are suffering enough without our judgment.

And two, because I shouldn't have scoffed at the notion of putting my purse in the backseat. There are all kinds of bills being proposed to enhance car safety standards and lower the instances of hyperthermia. Hopefully, in time, changes will be made. But, in the meantime, there is something we can do as parents. We can take the extra precautions to make sure we protect ourselves against our own hard drive malfunctions. We can stop being ignorant to the point of thinking it can't happen to us. Brains are funny things. Sometimes they really trip us up. Most of the time the consequences are minor. A wasted half-gallon of milk. A 10-minute detour in the wrong direction. Sometimes, they are much more severe. Why chance it? 

Dear Jason Collins, Thank You.

Dear Jason,

Two weeks ago, I wrote my son a letter. He is 20-months old and though he is not yet asking me why sometimes bad things happen, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that one day he would, and I wouldn't know what to say. And so after the terrifying events at the Boston Marathon, I sat down and I wrote to him. I told him that I didn't have any answers. I told him that sometimes the world doesn't make very much sense to me. And I told him that the only way we can get through these devastating moments is to focus on all the good that's out there. The two people who orchestrated the attack in Boston were far outnumbered by the amazing people who volunteered their time, their homes, and their money to make sure those most affected were taken care of.

What I reminded my son in that letter, and really what I reminded myself as well, is that when something happens to shake our faith in humanity, the key to restoring it is often right there beside it. And now, two weeks later, here you are, standing before America, telling our children that it is okay for them to be exactly who they are.

I am not sure you fully understand the gift you have given my son and the other children of his generation. I have no way of knowing what will happen next. But, the mere fact of your existence goes a long way in shattering some of the stereotypes that exist.  I was recently telling another mother about how anxious my husband is to start playing sports with our son. I relayed a conversation I had with my husband where I warned him that it was possible our son wouldn't be that interested in sports, and that he would have to be okay with it. As I told this woman the story, I said "I just want him to realize that it's possible our son --" and before I finished my sentence, she cut me off and said "could be gay?"

The funny thing was, she wasn't being outwardly homophobic or discriminatory. She wasn't suggesting that there was anything wrong with him if he was gay or that it was a problem if he wasn't interested in sports. The interesting part was that she took those two things to be synonymous. These stereotypes are such a part of our culture that even people who believe themselves to be loving and open-minded have adopted them without realizing it. Your courage in sharing your story, whether others follow your lead or not, is a huge step towards helping us all rethink these ideas.

I read a lot of the comments yesterday after your article came out. One of the most fascinating themes I came across were the people who suggested that nothing you have done is heroic. These people suggested that there's nothing wrong with being gay, but that there's no reason to give you a front page article or call it news. I have been called an idealist before, but these people have far surpassed me. I wish it was true that this isn't news. I wish the world we live in was so incredibly welcoming and warm that an NBA player being gay meant nothing. But the fact of the matter is, that's not the world we live in, and in this flawed world, it means a great deal. You have taken the first step to knocking down a major barrier in this country. You have taken the words of Chris Kluwe and Brendon Ayanbadejo and you've made them mean something. So much of this problem is a matter of ignorance, and you have provided education and information in a way that no one else has.

I also came across a number of people who have suggested that the fact that you have an identical twin who is straight proves that being gay is a choice. I do not wish to go into the scientific specifics of this, all I want to say is that I have an identical twin sister who is taller than I am. No one has ever suggested that I chose to be short.

I have been thinking a lot about how scary this must have been for you. After so many years of guarding this secret, letting it go in such a public way must have been terrifying. Your courage is truly remarkable. Thank you for doing this. Thank you for taking us all by the hand and leading us down this road. I know that the haters can be really loud. I know that the nastiness that comes out of people's mouths is sometimes almost too horrible to be believed. But as I told my son after the bombing in Boston, the good people are out there. The love is out there. There are so many people who have been positively affected by your act of bravery, including so many young children who don't even know it yet.

As a mother, I wanted to say thank you. It just got a little easier to raise my son in America.

All the best,
Tamar

To My Son, On This Sad and Tragic Day

Dearest Matthew,

You are only 20-months-old and so, for the moment, I am spared the task of having to explain to you that which has no explanation. You played in the park today and enjoyed your chicken fingers and laughed and jumped and didn't know that just 300 miles away people's lives were falling apart. You don't know that a mother will never see her 8-year-old child again or that runners whose legs carried them 26.2 miles no longer have those legs. You don't realize that just five months ago we were out in the streets of Philadelphia cheering on your Uncle Dan as he crossed the finish line like so many today. You haven't asked me why someone would want to hurt marathon runners and spectators who were celebrating such a special achievement.

But, it doesn't stop me from thinking about it. You won't be too young forever. One day you will look me in the eye and you will want to know why someone would hurt innocent people for no reason. You will want to know how to feel safe when people are working overtime to infect our safe spaces with fear and terror.  And what will I tell you? How can I comfort you when I am struggling so much myself to make sense of the world I have brought you into?

The short answer, my dear sweet boy, is that I don't know. I have no magic answers. I have no explanations. You would have figured this out one day, anyway, so I may as well just tell you now: I am just a person, and sometimes the world confuses me, too.

The long answer, though, is that we have no choice. When evil people try and bully us into surrendering our happiness, the only thing we can do is refuse. There are wonderful people who work to protect us and keep us safe and they will continue to try and do so effectively. We will keep going to school and seeing movies and taking trains and cheering on our friends and family as they accomplish their biggest goals. We will make sure to enjoy the good moments as they come. We will try a little harder not to take each other and Daddy and everyone we love for granted.

And most importantly, we will be kind. We will reach out and help others in need whenever we are able to. On days like today, it would be easy for us to focus on the fact that terrible people did a terrible thing. But that's not the whole story.  There are also runners who finished a marathon and kept running to the nearest hospital to donate blood. There are volunteers who ran towards the blasts instead of away from them to help as many people as possible. There are people posting on the internet that they have room in their homes if anyone needs a place to sleep.

It sometimes feels like evil is winning, but it isn't. It can only win if we let it. The good people of our world far outnumber the bad guys. It is our job to be part of the kindness. To keep putting it out there, insisting that we won't go away no matter how much they try to scare us.

It's not a perfect answer. It's not even close to a perfect world. But it's the one we've got, and we have to find a way to live in it. I am going to hug you tight as often as you'll let me and continue to pray that we won't have to have this conversation again.

I love you so very, very much,
Mommy

My thoughts and prayers are with everyone affected in Boston. Sending love and support.

The Art of Talking to Pregnant Women

I haven't thought about pregnancy in a while. It's been 18 months since I was pregnant and from almost the moment I made the transition to post-partum life, I forgot about what it had been like for the 40 weeks prior to motherhood. But, I have a lot of friends who are pregnant at the moment, some for the first time, and so I've been engaging in some conversations recently about the kinds of experiences women go through when they are pregnant. Additionally I've been seeing a lot of pregnancy photos on facebook and instagram and quietly noting the way that people respond to pregnant women and the words they use in congratulating them and wishing them well.

I want to really stress those last words - congratulating them and wishing them well. There is no question in my mind that when people speak to pregnant women they are trying to express excitement over what is happening. Unfortunately, this often comes out in unkind and hurtful ways. The thing that is so difficult about pregnancy is that it is an incredibly private experience that is happening in an extraordinarily public way. There is no way to control this, of course, and so women are left being very exposed and end up falling prey to whatever comments and questions people feel like throwing at them.

What's interesting is how much of this is learned from experience. I cringe thinking of some of the things I said to pregnant women before I went through it myself. I remember one instance in particular where a former coworker came to an event I was working and was 7 months pregnant. Our exchange went like this:

Me: Wow! I didn't even know you were pregnant! How far along are you?
Her: 7 months!
Me: Oh my goodness! You're going to get even bigger?! That's crazy!!
Her: Um..yeah...it's okay. I feel good...it's really all in my belly.

I don't know why the exchange stuck with me, but it did and I always had this nagging sense that I'd said the wrong thing. And as time went on and I went through my own pregnancy I began to realize what I didn't understand, and what so many people still don't: Yes, when you get pregnant you get bigger. Yes, this is totally normal and expected and necessary and obvious. But, no, it does not mean that it is fun or enjoyable or easy to accept. No one means any harm when they make these comments to pregnant women, I know I certainly did not. But what is important for all of us to realize is that body changes are very sensitive experiences. You would never walk up to a woman who has gained a few pounds and say "wow, you're looking bigger than last time I saw you!" Of course a woman knows that she is going to put on weight and that she will inevitably look larger than she did when she was not pregnant. But, that does not mean that she is not self-conscious about the transformation or that she isn't having a hard time with what her body is doing.

Additionally, there are all kinds of thoughts and concerns that pregnant women have to deal with. Each pregnancy is unique and every woman deals with different things.  There's no way to know what a woman is going through regarding her pregnancy and so you really have to be careful with what you say. Speaking personally, I remember being particularly concerned that my butt was getting big. It didn't seem to be something that I had much control over, so I tried not to think about it, but it definitely made me self-conscious. When people would tell me that my belly looked small, it only exacerbated my concern that all the weight I was gaining was in the wrong places. I was well aware that their intentions were good (everyone wants to hear they look tiny!) and I also knew that no one could possibly know what was going on in my head. But, it didn't change the fact that their words made their way inside my head and fed the self-consciousness that was already hiding there.

You just can't know what a woman is feeling. So, when you approach a pregnant woman, there is really only one thing you are allowed to say to her regarding her appearance. "You look wonderful." That's it. It doesn't matter if in your mind she is larger or smaller or wider or narrower or if you can't tell she's pregnant from the back or if you barely recognize her face. You tell her she looks wonderful. Because she is carrying a baby and she looks exactly how she is supposed to look. And I thought about this for a long time, debating if the right advice is really not to comment on a woman's appearance at all. And in an ideal world I think that would be the best way to go. But, I try to be realistic about the world we live in. And commenting on the appearance of a pregnant woman (and really ALL women) is so common that I fear that if we said nothing at all a woman may interpret that negatively as well. So instead, I say, tell her she looks wonderful. Don't be specific, don't tell her what parts of her body you are looking at or thinking about or noticing. Keep it simple and move on.

While we are on the topic of pregnancy etiquette, I do also want to mention that though baby bumps are out there for all to see, they are not out there for all to touch. As inviting as they may seem, do NOT ever touch a woman's belly without explicit permission to do so. The addition of a fetus to a woman's uterus does not suddenly make her body any less her own. You would not walk up to a stranger on the subway and fondle her breast, so do not touch a pregnant woman's belly unsolicited.

And the next time you run into a pregnant friend or see a "bump photo" online, do whatever you have to do to stifle the urge to say "OMG! You look huuuuge!!" A pregnant woman, like any other, wants to feel comfortable in her own skin. No matter how much she knows the changes she is experiencing are appropriate and healthy, hearing other people comment on how she looks - no matter how complimentary you think those comments are - is going to be unpleasant. So don't do it.