"Baby blues" sounds cute, like a nursery paint color or professional garb for babies. It's a really bad name for what it designates: the precipice overlooking postpartum depression and OCD, where a terrified new mother sways unsteadily in the updraft, choking on its stink, hypnotized by the horrific visions below.
Cursed be the ancient serpent who strikes the weaker vessel at her weakest, with her body and mind so recently and brutally torn by childbirth. When she has never felt needier, she is overwhelmed by her baby's relentless need for her, and this is when he skewers her brain on his venomous fangs. Lord Jesus, have mercy on us when you call us to labors beyond our strength.
30 June 2008
27 June 2008
To all husbands everywhere
Dear Husbands,
When you have a baby and want to tell all your friends, do not email other husbands! When you do this, they read your message and think, "Oh good," and immediately forget about it. They do not remember to tell their wives, the ones who are really actively interested and worried about your wife and baby. A week later, these wives say, "Wow, I can't believe we haven't heard from the Gehnerschwarzgerstenknechtbergkopfs yet!" And your friends their husbands say, "Oh yeah, they had their baby. I forgot to tell you." And then the wives say, "How could you forget a thing like that? Boy or girl? How big? How was the labor? Is Mom ok?" And the husband says, "Uh . . . . "
Instead, when you send out your baby announcement, go to your wife's email account and send your announcement from there to all of her friends, ie the wives of all your family friends. They will make a prompt report to their husbands and will have all the information they love to look over and savor and think about how great their friend is and how happy they are for her. They will also update their prayers from petitions regarding pregnancy and delivery to postpartum needs (which, as you know, is absolutely critical).
This has the added advantage of allowing your heroic wife to read the congratulations that roll in once she feels like getting back to her email. They mean a lot to her.
Your friends,
The Concordian Sisters of Perpetual Parturition
When you have a baby and want to tell all your friends, do not email other husbands! When you do this, they read your message and think, "Oh good," and immediately forget about it. They do not remember to tell their wives, the ones who are really actively interested and worried about your wife and baby. A week later, these wives say, "Wow, I can't believe we haven't heard from the Gehnerschwarzgerstenknechtbergkopfs yet!" And your friends their husbands say, "Oh yeah, they had their baby. I forgot to tell you." And then the wives say, "How could you forget a thing like that? Boy or girl? How big? How was the labor? Is Mom ok?" And the husband says, "Uh . . . . "
Instead, when you send out your baby announcement, go to your wife's email account and send your announcement from there to all of her friends, ie the wives of all your family friends. They will make a prompt report to their husbands and will have all the information they love to look over and savor and think about how great their friend is and how happy they are for her. They will also update their prayers from petitions regarding pregnancy and delivery to postpartum needs (which, as you know, is absolutely critical).
This has the added advantage of allowing your heroic wife to read the congratulations that roll in once she feels like getting back to her email. They mean a lot to her.
Your friends,
The Concordian Sisters of Perpetual Parturition
25 June 2008
Conflicing absolutes
--5-yr-old vomiting upstairs
--2- and 3-yr-olds engaged in screaming death match downstairs over a book neither of them is supposed to have
--Infant afflicted with weltschmertz howling on behalf of fallen man and nature
--Food at various stages of preparation in ant-infested kitchen
--Unknown, undersupervised young children driving large motorized vehicles through our yard
--Me wondering if that bathroom trip I started planning an hour and a half ago is ever going to happen
--2- and 3-yr-olds engaged in screaming death match downstairs over a book neither of them is supposed to have
--Infant afflicted with weltschmertz howling on behalf of fallen man and nature
--Food at various stages of preparation in ant-infested kitchen
--Unknown, undersupervised young children driving large motorized vehicles through our yard
--Me wondering if that bathroom trip I started planning an hour and a half ago is ever going to happen
24 June 2008
Lactose intolerance
A while back I read Leon Podles' The Church Impotent: The Feminization of Christianity. Although I'm not convinced that he really needed the Old Icelandic and Beowulf references to make his point, it was good. Western Christianity has gotten fluffy and emotional and too many pastors are too wimpy to play football. Issues, Etc. picked this up at least once also; I remember an article in their supplementary magazine in which Pastor Wilken amusingly pointed out that dudes traditionally don't close their eyes and sigh between verses of gooey love songs to other dudes, even if the other dude is Jesus.
But I respectfully here submit my objection to the use of the word "feminization" to describe the phenomenon. "Feminine" has been used as a proxy in this argument for vacuous, sentimental, insipid, emotion-driven, and a lot of other uncomplimentary adjectives that I wouldn't want used about myself. While these adjectives have become unfortunately accurate in describing many churches, and they are follies to which women are generally more susceptible, summing them all up under the term "feminine" insults half the human race. This use of the term also cheapens positive attributes and virtues traditionally considered more feminine--gentleness, compassion, patience, nurture, etc (and aren't these the things we all love in our father confessors?). Finally, the church is our mother. I don't think it behooves us to speak of a feminine church as a problem.
I'm not denying that the problems identified by the "feminization" police are very likely to arise when women are in the majority in church. But any pastor can tell you women nearly always are the majority, and many churches are still able to maintain doctrinally robust theology and practice. Furthermore, anybody with a male baby boomer in her life knows that the ladies aren't the only ones tearing up when the Clavinova croons sweet and low. Insipidity will spiral out of control in any congregation if it's allowed to, headed by men and women who care more about atmosphere than what they're being served. The problem isn't women devouring men, but milk drinkers out-bawling the meat eaters. Those of us in houses full of milk drinkers know how easily this can happen.
In these metrosexual latter days it's not just the pastor who can't play football. Until the shaggy, skinny dudes with square glasses who have never even considered enlisting are destroyed by forces of history, faithful people must be vigilant in defending the church against the broad and easy road of just loving Jesus so much that we can't handle his hard teachings, worship like reverent adults rather than manic children or moony adolescents, or face the pain of repentance head-on.
It's the church's business to confess that male and female he created them, and it was very good. To villify one sex through a lazy circumlocution serves neither.
But I respectfully here submit my objection to the use of the word "feminization" to describe the phenomenon. "Feminine" has been used as a proxy in this argument for vacuous, sentimental, insipid, emotion-driven, and a lot of other uncomplimentary adjectives that I wouldn't want used about myself. While these adjectives have become unfortunately accurate in describing many churches, and they are follies to which women are generally more susceptible, summing them all up under the term "feminine" insults half the human race. This use of the term also cheapens positive attributes and virtues traditionally considered more feminine--gentleness, compassion, patience, nurture, etc (and aren't these the things we all love in our father confessors?). Finally, the church is our mother. I don't think it behooves us to speak of a feminine church as a problem.
I'm not denying that the problems identified by the "feminization" police are very likely to arise when women are in the majority in church. But any pastor can tell you women nearly always are the majority, and many churches are still able to maintain doctrinally robust theology and practice. Furthermore, anybody with a male baby boomer in her life knows that the ladies aren't the only ones tearing up when the Clavinova croons sweet and low. Insipidity will spiral out of control in any congregation if it's allowed to, headed by men and women who care more about atmosphere than what they're being served. The problem isn't women devouring men, but milk drinkers out-bawling the meat eaters. Those of us in houses full of milk drinkers know how easily this can happen.
In these metrosexual latter days it's not just the pastor who can't play football. Until the shaggy, skinny dudes with square glasses who have never even considered enlisting are destroyed by forces of history, faithful people must be vigilant in defending the church against the broad and easy road of just loving Jesus so much that we can't handle his hard teachings, worship like reverent adults rather than manic children or moony adolescents, or face the pain of repentance head-on.
It's the church's business to confess that male and female he created them, and it was very good. To villify one sex through a lazy circumlocution serves neither.
23 June 2008
My Favorite Things
Males in my house who pee INTO the toilet
Dad's evening off if the babies don't spoil it
Children who cross themselves in church and sing
These are a few of my favorite things
Reb. Mary goaded into righteous furies
When Gauntlets posts; when my 3-yr-old hurries
Nursing the babe and no bell or phone rings
These are a few of my favorite things
When the cat pukes
When the milk spills
Months when I don't floss
I try to forget fav'rite things and recall the
Theology of the cross
When my big girl wants to read to the others
When Little Girl doesn't torment her brothers
When someone tells me there's nothing to bring
These are a few of my favorite things
Dad's evening off if the babies don't spoil it
Children who cross themselves in church and sing
These are a few of my favorite things
Reb. Mary goaded into righteous furies
When Gauntlets posts; when my 3-yr-old hurries
Nursing the babe and no bell or phone rings
These are a few of my favorite things
When the cat pukes
When the milk spills
Months when I don't floss
I try to forget fav'rite things and recall the
Theology of the cross
When my big girl wants to read to the others
When Little Girl doesn't torment her brothers
When someone tells me there's nothing to bring
These are a few of my favorite things
21 June 2008
Parallel play
With apologies to Wikipedia:
Parallel play is a concept from developmental psychology. It means mothers wiping off, feeding, sunscreening, locating, chasing, comforting, and/or punishing children side by side without interaction. It is commonly seen among mothers of children of ages 2 or 3 who only get to see each other once a year.
No further reports at this time as I'm still susceptible to the bends. (And actually, thanks to some very generous people, there was some group play as well!)
Parallel play is a concept from developmental psychology. It means mothers wiping off, feeding, sunscreening, locating, chasing, comforting, and/or punishing children side by side without interaction. It is commonly seen among mothers of children of ages 2 or 3 who only get to see each other once a year.
No further reports at this time as I'm still susceptible to the bends. (And actually, thanks to some very generous people, there was some group play as well!)
17 June 2008
The politics of multiparity
A woman pregnant with her first baby is radiant, beautiful, adorable.
A woman pregnant with her second baby is matronly, serene, not disrespectable.
A woman pregnant with her third baby is a trouper, pitiable. We're glad for her that she's about to be put out to pasture.
A woman pregnant with her fourth+ baby is a sow. A breeder. A glutton. An abuser of the environment. Pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, and childrearing are obviously not difficult for her or she'd have quit by now like any sane, unselfish, thinking person. All she's doing is, as I heard it described on Talk of the Nation a few weeks ago, "pop[ping] out puppies," and she needs to be publicly derided for it. (Thanks, Russ in Kansas City--your insights on Christianity were strikingly original. And Ira, the ideological balance of calls you accept on the show is a fine reflection of your journalistic integrity).
More environment, please! Oink oink oink.
Female circumcision motivated by religious belief? Hey, who are we to judge (at least in certain times and places; find on this page "genital mutilation")? The tiny minority of adherents to catholic doctrine who take babies as God gives them (which only sometimes means a lot)? Christianist militant nut jobs, and stupid to boot.
A woman pregnant with her second baby is matronly, serene, not disrespectable.
A woman pregnant with her third baby is a trouper, pitiable. We're glad for her that she's about to be put out to pasture.
A woman pregnant with her fourth+ baby is a sow. A breeder. A glutton. An abuser of the environment. Pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, and childrearing are obviously not difficult for her or she'd have quit by now like any sane, unselfish, thinking person. All she's doing is, as I heard it described on Talk of the Nation a few weeks ago, "pop[ping] out puppies," and she needs to be publicly derided for it. (Thanks, Russ in Kansas City--your insights on Christianity were strikingly original. And Ira, the ideological balance of calls you accept on the show is a fine reflection of your journalistic integrity).
More environment, please! Oink oink oink.16 June 2008
Stand by your pad
Curity Nursing Pads, you used to be cool. You never made me crinkle annoying cellophane in a sleeping baby's ear when I packed up. You were 700 layers thick and could make it through long naps and other catastrophes. You screamed to the world through my shirt, "This woman is wearing the world's most unstreamlined nursing pads because they're the cheapest, and so is she!" You had that freaky lady with the spaghetti hair baring her teeth at a pathetically uncorpulent baby on the box. Then on the other side of the box you had all those helpful directions for breastfeeding, once dramatically interpreted to unsettling effect by a certain holy man in my very own family room. I bet those directions used to help a lot of people with breastfeeding. Oh, and the box was as big as my sofa. I never lost track of that bad boy, that's for sure.
You've sold out, Curity. Now you're oval and and individually wrapped and sold in compact boxes with cross-section diagrams and arrows explaining lame things about the secrets of your absorbency, like I care.
You're still the cheapest, so you know I'll keep coming back. But you've changed, man. You've changed.
You've sold out, Curity. Now you're oval and and individually wrapped and sold in compact boxes with cross-section diagrams and arrows explaining lame things about the secrets of your absorbency, like I care.
You're still the cheapest, so you know I'll keep coming back. But you've changed, man. You've changed.
15 June 2008
The virtues of fathers
There are many, but one that I particularly appreciate is that if you don't put anything on your blog about Father's Day, they don't care.
CSPP salutes our more rational halves. Thanks for doing business with us.
CSPP salutes our more rational halves. Thanks for doing business with us.
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