I thought I might use a quote for the title of this post, but I just couldn’t pick one.

“Obsessive parenting has few rewards”

“What if my kids don’t turn out well and then everyone blames me? …the data say it was going to happen anyway.”

“Human beings are terrible risk assessors in general, and that no one is worse than a parent”

“To look at your child like a science project is just going to make you unhappy.”

“I think that the hardest thing as a parent is to admit that you’re going to take risks with your child’s life, to actually admit out loud, I take risks with my child’s life. If you said that at a cocktail party, people would look at you like you were a monster.”

So many gems, only room for one title.

These particular quotes are coming from a panel discussion of a group of leading economists, who also happen to be parents, on the topic of parenting. The economists include:

• Freakonomics  Steve Levitt; Betsey Stevenson and Justin Wolfers
• Bruce Sacerdote
• Joshua Gans (the author of Parentonomics: An Economist Dad Looks at Parenting); 
• Melissa Kearney
• Valerie Ramey
• Bryan Caplan (the blogger and author of Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids: Why Parenting is More Fun and Less Work Than You Think).

If you want to listen to or read the whole thing, you can access the podcast of the Economists Guide to Parenting or read the full transcript of the podcast.

During this long and nuanced conversation, the economists were talking about what matters and doesn’t matter in the way we parent. Ultimately, a lot of our obsessions are worthless, as far as they are concerned. However, that doesn’t mean that they don’t obsess. They are, in fact, not necessarily drinking their own Kool-aid.

It was intriguing to hear them stating in a very matter of fact manner that they do invest in things that they know the data does not support — things like piano lessons, expensive nannies, art lessons, and more. I understand investing in these things because your children want them, but they talked about the battles to get their children to practice their music. Battles that could have perhaps been avoided. However, these parents, these economists, kept investing in these things in the hope that they would make a difference to their child’s intellectual ability, educational opportunities and professional accomplishments, despite knowing better. Fascinating.

C’mon: no effect on income? Puny influence on education? Now, if you’re a parent, especially the kind of hands-on parent who thinks hard about every input in your kid’s life — every flash card and every museum visit, every taekwondo lesson and, god forbid, every video game — you’ve got to be thinking: Oh man, these economists are full of crap!

Almost any significant difference I could have on my kids predates their birth and possibly even their conception. Ultimately, the age-old advice to just “be yourself” applies in parenting too. Don’t push yourself to be something or someone that you are not with the hope of raising exceptional children or being a super mom. Not only will it make you unhappy, but it won’t really make a difference to your child’s chance of success anyway.

There is one exception, however: smoking and drinking. Taking the time and making the effort to deal with your own addictions can make a difference according to these economists. Kids who grow up around parents who smoke and drink are more likely to do so themselves.

So, if I’m a smoker, if I’m a parent who smokes, and I think that smoking is bad, which would probably describe a lot of smokers, and I don’t want my kids to smoke. And I’ve got let’s say, 10 hours of time or $100, or whatnot, and I’ve got to decide how to spend that 10 hours or $100. You’re telling me based on what you’ve seen in the research that it would probably be better for me to spend those hours and dollars trying to quit smoking than it would be trying to cram in some extra reading time at the library or whatnot.

Oh, and being a good, kind and respectful person too.

Another thing that’s undoubtedly contagious is that behavior of how you interact, how you treat other people, how you treat employees at a restaurant, or a retail store or something. I think those things are probably highly contagious as well, and things that you really want to model carefully, and just like in the smoking example, you can make yourself better off as well as setting a good example for your kids.

Beyond setting a good example, the way you treat your children sticks with them too.

There’s a great Swedish twins study, where the people, ah the twins were in their fifties and sixties and seventies, and even when you’re in your seventies, whether or not your parents were kind to you stays with you, and you know, identical twins, fraternal twins have similar and quite high levels of agreement on these questions, which is the smoking gun for nurture really mattering. So the way that your kids feels about and remembers you. The quality of the relationship. This is where you really have an effect and where it is very long lasting, it really does last a lifetime.

Or, more simply stated: “The lowest common denominator for having a kid who turns out well is the kid being loved.”

Be nice. Love your children. Deal with your addictions. Otherwise, don’t sweat the small stuff. Unless you want to or feel the peer pressure to do so, in which case, don’t sweat that either. That, my friends is the Economists Guide to Raising Successful Children.

Image credit: woodleywonderworks on flickr

According to SheKnows.com, Mariah Carey has already had her first visit from Child Protective Services (CPS):

Apparently, Child Protective Services came out to the hospital to investigate Carey in response to an anonymous call from someone at the hospital reporting that she was abusing alcohol while breastfeeding Moroccan and Monroe. Cannon explained, “One of the nurses told my wife that to make the breast milk come out, drink a little dark Guinness — and it actually happened! So I guess that’s where the story came from.”

“The Child Protective Services agent came to me in the hospital in the hallway. They were like, ‘This is ridiculous. Clearly, you guys are loving parents.’ It’s sad the length that people will go.”

Another article stated that this was simply a tabloid scam by someone hoping to get pictures of the celebrity twin babies. Regardless of the reason for the call, the fact that this was even used as the ruse for the call highlights ongoing myths about breastfeeding and alcohol.

Myth 1: Alcohol Increases Milk Production

Probably every new mom has heard the old wives tale that drinking beer (sometimes in particular Guinness) will increase your milk supply. While it would be nice if that were a miracle cure for all of the moms struggling with their supply, that isn’t the case. The ingredients in beer that do help increase milk supply are generally no longer used in North American beer production. Even when they are, the dampening effect that alcohol has on milk supply would cancel out any benefits from the ingredients that could possibly increase milk supply. According to kellymom.com, “babies nurse more frequently but take in less milk in the 3-4 hours after mom has had a drink, and one study showed a 23% decrease in milk volume with one drink.” So drinking beer won’t help you increase your milk supply (as the misguided nurse told Mariah), but it may have a negative impact on your supply.

Myth 2: You Can’t Drink Alcohol While Breastfeeding

A lot of people seem to believe that you can’t drink at all while breastfeeding or that you need to pump and dump if you do. That simply isn’t true.  It is completely safe for a mom to have a drink or two while breastfeeding.  According to kellymom.com:

In general, if you are sober enough to drive, you are sober enough to breastfeed. Less than 2% of the alcohol consumed by the mother reaches her blood and milk. Alcohol peaks in mom’s blood and milk approximately 1/2-1 hour after drinking (but there is considerable variation from person to person, depending upon how much food was eaten in the same time period, mom’s body weight and percentage of body fat, etc.). Alcohol does not accumulate in breastmilk, but leaves the milk as it leaves the blood; so when your blood alcohol levels are back down, so are your milk alcohol levels.

Obviously, as I have previously ranted, parents shouldn’t be drunk when caring for a baby (whether breastfeeding or not). So the issue here isn’t really whether alcohol is passing through breastmilk, but whether the parent is sober enough to keep from harming or neglecting the baby. Dropping the baby, getting into a car accident or setting the kitchen on fire because you’re drunk are all going to hurt the baby an awful lot more than a bit of alcohol in the breastmilk.

Have a Drink If You Want To

There is no reason to start drinking while breastfeeding in order to increase your milk supply, but there is also no reason to quit drinking altogether while breastfeeding either unless you are really struggling with your milk supply. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy your baby.

Cheers Bad Moms!

Cheers Mariah!

photo used with permission

thumbnail img source

How many times have you done something in front of your toddler that you really shouldn’t have done — like dropping a string of f-bombs that would make a sailor blush — and said ‘oh well, it’s not like the kid is going to remember that‘? Guess what? They probably DO remember that.

Thankfully the kids apparently don’t remember it for long but they do seem to remember it long enough to use it against you in the more verbal years.

Researchers at Memorial University in Newfoundland interviewed 100 kids between ages 4 and 13 about their earliest memories, then those memories were verified by the parents. Turns out the younger children had accurate memories dating back to when they were 18 months old.

*gulp* Maybe G remembers that time when I ate the last Oreo instead of sharing it with her when she was two.

Anyway. Time is on our side. Turns out that when the same children were interview two years later they couldn’t recall those super early memories even when prompted. The older the children get, the later the earliest memory can be placed. Just like adults, most earliest memories are around the age of 3 or 4.

*phew* (does some math) I’m off the hook!

source

This just in: families with two girl children come out on top in the happiness lottery.

Yes, it appears to be true, says a study out of the UK this fine morning: When families of all child-arrangements, boys, girls, one child, many children, a veritable lottery of child picks are surveyed, the families that seem to come out happiest are those with two female offspring. Apparently, two girls get along and play well and don’t gouge each other’s eyes out nearly as often as I had assumed they would, leading to family – and presumably matrimonial – harmony.  Which I have to admit gives me a certain satisfaction, knowing how under-valued female children can be around the world.

(Beware, however, that there can apparently be too much of a good thing: People with four daughters see a drastic drop on the happiness scales. Can’t imagine why.)

Certainly, were I to have another child, and were that child to be a girl, I would be quite happy. Not that I’d be unhappy with a boy – but surprisingly, I’m not tied to the idea of having “one of each”, salt and pepper, yin and yang. I like having my girl, and I think I’d like having another girl just as well. It’s true, having another girl might make my life easier in a few ways. I already have the wardrobe at the ready, for example. I’m familiar with the plumbing, as it were. I would know well in advance that a second bathroom would be required by the time they hit the tween stage, giving me ample time to save for household renovations. And my husband would only have to buy shotguns for use on the neighbourhood boys rather than actually teach any boys how to use one. (Yes, that’s total gender stereotyping. I like the smell of cliche in the morning.)

Plus, sometimes, little boys scare me. They’re kind of loud. And destructive. And I totally do not know anywhere near enough about Star Wars to keep the average 4 year old happy.

However, as a person whose uterus spent many years hanging up an “out for lunch” shingle, I realize the blessing that a child of either gender would be. So it’s not like I’m tempting the fates by saying that if my body decides to procreate again, thanks, but I’ll only take a girl.

But still, I have the baby girl clothes tucked away in the closet. Just in case.

Remember that stage of life where you seem to be going to five weddings each summer? Wearing horrible bridesmaid dresses at two of them (yeah, right, sure I’ll wear it again)? For many of us, those days are long passed and have since been replaced with equivalent numbers of divorces, separations, couples in therapy, and more.  And of course, with that comes the research to tell parents how they are ruining their children’s lives. A British “Understanding Society” study of  6,441 women, 5,384 men and 1,268 young people found that:

Overall, 60 per cent of young people say they are ‘completely satisfied’ with their family situation but in families where the child’s mother is unhappy in her partnership, only 55 per cent of young people say they are ‘completely happy’ with their family situation — compared with 73 per cent of young people whose mothers are ‘perfectly happy’ in their relationships.

They also go on to say:

Professor John Ermisch, Dr Maria Iacovou, and Dr Alexandra Skew from the Institute for Social and Economic Research found that the happiest children are those living with two parents — either biological or step — with no younger siblings, who do not argue with their parents regularly, who eat at least three evening meals per week with their family and whose mother is happy in her own relationship.

What is a mother who is unhappy in her current relationship supposed to do with this piece of information? Work on her relationship so that she can be happy again? Get out of that relationship immediately and go searching for a happier one ASAP? Fake a smile and pretend that everything is okay? Or just blame herself when her children are not happy?

When reading this, I wonder whether happiness is really the greatest goal we should have for our children. Sure, it is great for kids to be happy and no one likes to see their children upset or depressed. However, part of life is learning to work through issues in your relationships with other people and to seek happiness rather than assuming it will be dropped on your lap. From that perspective, is it useful for a mother to fake a happy relationship “for the sake of the children” or to give up immediately on any relationship that has its problems in order to look for bliss? Or is it better for her children to see her deal with the realities of life head on even if that means openly working through problems in a relationship?

If you win the relationship lottery and are 100% happy all the time, FABULOUS. Good for you. If you don’t, is this research really going to help you?

I don’t think that you are doing anyone any favours (yourself, your partner, or your children), by faking it. Of course children don’t need to be involved in the nitty gritty of your relationship problems, but I also don’t think it is useful for moms to put on a fake happy face “for the sake of the children”. I think they will see through it and it may influence the way they see their role in a relationship. Do you really want to teach your daughter to grin and bear it if she is in an unhappy marriage?  Or teach your son that his wife owes it to the family to put her happy face on?

Happiness is a good goal that will benefit moms and their children. But sometimes you have to work through unhappy to get to happy, whether by working on a relationship or getting out of a relationship. That’s life. And the kids will be fine.

If you substitute the snakes and bees and mice in this video for cookies and Honey Nut cheerios and waffles, and trees and holes and nests for cupboards and refrigerators, then you basically have the behaviour of our children depicted fairly accurately in this video. There’s a reason that Katie and I called our company Rabid Badger Media. This is it (note: not really suitable for kids, unless you regularly watch National Geographic and refer to wildlife as ‘nasty-assed’):

Props to Alli for sharing this. She knows her awesome wildlife.

In all the discussion of ‘Tiger Moms‘ over the last few days, I’ve seen (and made) references to other possible types of moms: Hamster Moms, Bobcat Moms, Panda Moms (“fuzzy and huggable but with some really f***ing huge claws”), among others. And Jezebel jumped into the discussion by outlining a taxonomy of mom ‘types’ through the recent ages, beginning with Soccer Moms and ending with Cyborg Moms (not what Donna Haraway had in mind, but still.)

At The Bad Moms Club, we’re partial (obviously) to Bad Moms, and have also been known to use the term Slacker Moms. But if we’re going with totem animals, I kinda like Meerkat Mom, not least because it attaches a value to remaining upright. (Panda Mom, too, is awesome, I gotta say.)

But we want to hear from you: what type of mom are you? In the animal taxonomy (Tiger Mom, Meerkat Mom, Sloth Mom) or otherwise (Ativan Mom, Three Chardonnays Before Dinner Mom)? Let us know, and we’ll do our own momthropological investigation of who’s roaming the Mom Tundra.

(And if you’re a Tiger Mom? That’s totally okay. We have our moments, too.)

If you didn’t know, the Consumer Electronics Show was in Las Vegas last week. The only reason you would have known, really, would be if you were a complete uber gadget geek (ed. note: or if you were the editor of this blog, AND a complete uber gadget geek, in which case YOU WERE ACTUALLY THERE). Which is something we plead guilty to in this house. CES is the showcase for every electronics company known to man to display the newest flashy toy that beeps and does amazing things you never knew you needed a gadget to do to 140,000 eager nerds. And one of their biggest new markets is the Gadget for Kids.

A Tablet PC for babies, complete with bumper edges to keep it from getting destroyed.

Electronic building blocks.

And while I am most definitely a gadget gal myself, I do find the early gadgetification of kids… worrisome.  Not because of attention spans, or the fact that going without Facebook and its digital brethren for 24 hours gives millenials withdrawal symptoms similar to those experienced by people trying to quit smoking.

No, I worry about what will happen when armageddon comes.

Seriously.

Yes, I’m crazy. But have you thought about this?

What happens if our power grids just go away and we’re left with no ability to power our gadgets? Have you not read The Stand, people? Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome? The revolution is coming, and when electricity and gasoline is no longer freely available, that tablet PC for babies will be nothing more than a fancy plate, unless you trade away your precious blankets or the box of granola bars you scavenged from the remains of the Sobeys down the street to get 5 minutes at an electrical charger guarded by a man with one eye and raging body odor.

(Yes, I’ve thought about this. Too much.)

And while logically there’s no reason to believe that nuclear armageddon is nigh, still, it’s worrying to think that we are raising generations of people who have no idea how to function without electronics. Instead of heroically tucking the photograph of Sarah Connors in to our vest pockets, we’ll be clinging to our powerless iPhones where all 5,308 photos of our family reside, lost forever for the want of a charger.

Although I suppose at that point we’ll have bigger things to worry about.

So yeah, I’m irrationally neurotic – this was a given from the start – but while we love our gadgets, I need to remember that it’s just as important in this family to ensure my kid knows how to plant a seed and pitch a tent as it is for her to know how to bring up Angry Birds on the iPad.

Just in case.

There will be no showing of the photo I’m about to describe so don’t bother asking.

Sometime postpartum, little G was taken to a big store portrait studio to be immortalized with a completely random backdrop aura and shag carpet beneath her. For some unknown reason I posed in a couple of photos and this was wrong, very wrong.

Immortalizing my zombie days with a completely random backdrop aura and shag carpet beneath my elbows is not something that needs to be remembered for history. Trust me when I say that studio lighting does not flatter the deep black circles permanent formed under the eyes. Nor does it hide any spit up or leaking equipment on shirts. It was not be the best day to forget to put the breast pads in nursing bra let me tell you.

Anyway. If they had offered me this historical option from the 19th century, known as ‘the hidden mother‘ in the photography world, where the mom would wear a hood and hold the child so she could be later cropped out, I would have said yes.

Oh well, it’s not the worst that a permanent reminder of the zombie days is somewhere in the family annals, at least I can use it for effective guilt tripping in later years.

source via source

Nom?

I used to work with a guy who was a picky eater.

This guy didn’t like anything.  Name a food, any food. Dude didn’t eat it. And not just, “I don’t like radishes. Or sushi.”  He boycotted entire food groups.  It wasn’t a philosophical decision, like a China-Study-based-personal-horror that shocked him in to vegetarianism or something. He was simply beyond picky. Hated all meat.  Couldn’t stand vegetables. Wouldn’t touch a salad. Tofu? As if. Whole grain bread? Got lumps in it. Pretty much all he’d eat was white carbs and cheese. I am not exaggerating. I truly think he lived on margherita pizza.

So when the Globe and Mail starts talking about the classification of a “Selective Eating Disorder” that manifests itself in childhood, I’ll admit it’s not complete bunk. My coworker fully admitted that he’d been a picky eater since he was a kid. So in that case, maybe he did have some kind of  “disorder” “thing”.

But when you think about how rare this “disorder” actually is, the article is beyond panicky. As is anything parenting-related in the media these days. Hey, you’re screwing up your kid. Again!

I know a lot of people. I was thinking about it the other day and I can bet you that I have met at least 25 people over the course of my life. And even though I’ve done no scientific research, I can confidently pull this statistic out of my ass: of all of those people, I bet 99% of them were picky eaters at some point when they were kids.  So putting the fear of a DSM-VVVIIIIXXXX labeled “disorder” in to parents of picky eaters is just another headline-grabbing crock of hooey.

It’s not a pathology, people. It’s a thing. Kids have things. Kid things. They say no. Loudly. They want to assert their independence. They want control. And they do that by picking a way to be unique, and those ways include verbalizing personal tastes. They don’t like anything weird. They don’t like anything their friends don’t like. They don’t like anything [insert colour here].  They don’t like anything mushy or sloppy. It’s part of them trying to establish an identity. I hate tomatoes therefore I am toddler.

And yet, for every picky toddler 20/30/however many years ago, I only know of one adult who eats nearly nothing. Disorder? Not so much. Sure, everyone has their foibles, their weirds, their good/bad/indifferent parts of their relationships with food. But is that really a disorder? Do we have to pathologize everything, for crying out loud?

As a kid, I hated pizza. We’d sit down for dinner and everyone else would chow down in to their slices and I would instead peel back the cheese and pick out the mushrooms one by one and eat those and only those.  I was mercilessly mocked, if I remember correctly. That was a long time ago. Today, I can snarf back an entire pizza, crust, sauce, cheese, pepperoni-mushroom-green olives and all, plus a bottle of ginger ale without batting a lip. My picky-ness wasn’t a disorder. It was a kid being a kid. Eventually, we all get over a lot of things we dig in our heels over when we were kids.

Shit, I even tie my own shoes these days.  Oh look, that wasn’t a disorder either.

So, take this article, and most articles that tell us how badly we’re screwing up our kids, with a grain of salt. Despite all the shrieking, it’s way harder to screw your kids up than they’re telling us. Promise.