by Rose Hart-Landsberg | Jan 25, 2023 | Mental Health, Parenting and Child Development
“Your spouse arriving home has sensed (i.e. read 18 text messages ALL IN CAPS LOCK) that you needed a little treat. He pours a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and takes a sip. He pops the toddler’s loopy straw in the bottle and hands it to you. What a catch.”
You used to be a foodie. Now when you add “ie” to the end of words it’s in a singsongy baby voice and it makes you cringe inwardly. But hey, it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Here’s a brief list of drink pairings for foodies turned parents who definitely have given up on adult fun but haven’t admitted it yet.
1 ) Fruit and Riesling
You spent what seemed like ages lovingly chopping up beautiful fresh farmers market fruit for your little angel. He’s growing and evolving every day and as a thoughtful parent it’s your job to make sure he gets the best nutrients and develops a healthy well rounded pallet. However at the moment the little angel does not want fresh fruit. The little angel wants fruit snacks. His volume would suggest he wants them post haste. Most of the lovingly diced fresh fruit has made it to the floor. You open the cupboard, he calms knowing the fruit snack is nigh but what’s this in the corner? An unopened bottle of Riesling that footloose and kid free friend of yours brought over thinking your dinner party last month would last past 9:00 pm (haha.) You know one fruit snack packet will give you at least a few minutes of calm. You open the little plastic package and hand it over to grabbing sticky hands. You dump what’s left of the fresh fruit onto your own plate and pop the cork. You deserve lovingly chopped fresh fruit too, you know. Cheers to being a parent!
2 ) Fish and Sauvignon Blanc
The baby is crying. But only because the toddler is crying. The toddler may or may not be crying because you are as well. You wanted to teach them a valuable lesson about about life, about caring for others and responsibility. You also told the sales lady you very specifically wanted a fish tank heavy enough that a toddler could not pull it off the shelf onto the ground. “Well,” you think, “we can’t always get what we want.” That’s a good life lesson. The screaming toddler seems to have learned it in some sense. You’re a good parent after all. Your spouse arriving home has sensed (i.e. read 18 text messages ALL IN CAPS LOCK) that you needed a little treat. He pours a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and takes a sip. He pops the toddler’s loopy straw in the bottle and hands it to you. What a catch.
Check out an Informed Pregnancy Blog post on water safety for babies here!
3 ) Lamb and Merlot
Finally, tonight, it’s your partner’s turn to do bed time. The high pitched wails muffled only by a toothbrush and punctuated by a dramatic parade of angry staccato toddler stomps float down the staircase as you luxuriously sip a glass of Merlot. You notice your little one’s beloved stuffed lamb on the couch and know bedtime will be rough(er) without it. You use every last ounce of your college softball training to silently lob it up the stairs. You are not without sympathy, but you will not be pulled into the fray. A second, un touched glass of Merlot waits patiently on the coffee table for your partner. They will surely need a sip as well when the battle has been won. You’ve got a bit of work to finish up but bed is calling and you may or may not be awake by then.
4 ) Birthday Cake and Bubbly
You’ve been answering e mails all day and there are so. many. more. A task much easier back when there wasn’t mysterious prehistoric reminiscent crayon drawings of what may be farm animals on your computer screen. You think about that art opening you meant to go to last night and the four – yes four – toddler birthday parties you went to all day instead. You think about champagne and little toothpicks stabbed into fancy cheese. You think about party number three when your little one was already breakdown adjacent and the piece of cake offered did not have the right color frosting. You think about how physically wondrous it is that a person that small can make noises that loud. You worry about waking her up as you slide the leftover cake from all 4 parties jammed together in one glorious frosted plateau out of the refrigerator. Each of your four mommy group friends insisted and each time you did not object. You begin to eat right from the pan in the dull comforting glow of the fridge light but as the sugar courses through your veins you realize something important is missing. The (cow?) on your computer screen glares judgmentally as you slide the hidden bubbly out of the crisper drawer. Happy Birthday to me, you think. You’re not even sure what day it is.
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Rose Hart-Landsberg helps produce the Informed Pregnancy Podcast hosted by Dr. Elliot Berlin, DC and serves as managing editor of the new Informed Pregnancy Blog. She also spearheads podcast and blog sponsor partnerships and helps with various related content and copy writing for The Informed Pregnancy Project and Berlin Wellness Group.
In her free time she enjoys editing and writing fiction, makeup artistry, and is currently learning Turkish.
by Jenna Pastuszek | Oct 12, 2022 | Family and Relationships, Infant Care and Breastfeeding, Mental Health
” I assumed that since my body had chosen when to eject its womb occupant, it would also do its job to produce milk on time. You know what they say about assuming.”
I’ve never liked my boobs.
I remember learning about breasts in sixth-grade health class, hearing that as soon as a girl got her period, she’d get boobs to go with it. Yes, you now have bloody underwear once a month, but in exchange, you get nice round melons! Sounded like a good trade to me!
When I eventually got my period two years later, no boobs came with it. The bloody gift continued to show up, but my melons never got round. They looked more like pointy pyramids wearing mosquito bite hats.
In college, I did everything I could to make it seem like I had bigger boobs. I wore push up bras. I wore two bras at once. I even wore these giant silicone inserts that my roommates and I lovingly referred to as “the chicken cutlets” until one night I got too drunk, went home with the captain of the swim team, and woke up to see the chicken cutlets prominently displayed in broad daylight. That was the last time for me and him AND for me and the chicken cutlets.
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In my 20s, I learned to cope with the hand (boob) I’d been given. I accepted that I’d always need to have clothes tailored to adjust for my unproportioned mounds. I found sticky circular cups to peel on underneath bralettes to give my body a more feminine silhouette while foregoing underwire. I even learned to laugh at how small they were alongside other people, like the time I was doing a musical and the sexagenarian male artistic director presented me with a giant pink push up bra to wear under my costume. “Don’t worry, Jenna. My wife tried this on for me last night, and it’ll help you get into character.” Fantastic.
These are not mine
Before getting pregnant, I found it easier to simply pretend that they weren’t there. I felt so ashamed of their pathetic presence that I even told my husband to stop asking me to take my shirt off when we had sex. It didn’t matter to me that he thought they were nice. To cope, I had written them off as dead.
When I got pregnant, one of the first symptoms I had was rapid breast growth. The skin pulled painfully taught and tingled and was sensitive to the touch. My nipples were so itchy, and when I looked down at my chest, I was convinced that I was staring at someone else’s areolas. Who’s missing a pair of boobs, I thought, because these are not mine.
Nursing wasn’t something I was super enthusiastic about given my lifelong breast trauma, but I was set to do it for the added health benefits for me and my baby. So I was disappointed when at 35-weeks, my OBGYN told me that my baby was Frank breech, and if he or she did not flip, I was going to have a c-section. I was nervous that scheduling the arrival of my child would affect breastfeeding if my milk didn’t come in quickly enough. After trying everything to get the baby to flip (spoiler alert- he didn’t…#Leo), I accepted my fate and scheduled my operation. As luck would have it, I went into labor spontaneously four days prior at 39w1d. I assumed that since my body had chosen when to eject its womb occupant, it would also do its job to produce milk on time. You know what they say about assuming.
Squishy and unreliable
My boobs continued to betray me into postpartum. My milk didn’t come in fast enough to prevent my son from losing over 10% of his birth weight in the hospital, so on day 3, we had to supplement with formula. It turned out that he was born with an upper lip and a posterior tongue tie, so latching was a frustrating experience for all: he, because he was working too hard to get the meager sustenance that was there, and me because he was gnawing like a weasel at my sore cracked nipples.
By the time we got the ties and latch sorted out, my child had made up his mind:
Why go back to something soft and squishy with unreliable output when a plentiful plastic bottle is an option?! He even faked falling asleep to get out of breastfeeding! Multiple times! Whether it was the hormones or not, this was the most painful rejection I had ever experienced- even worse than my sixth-grade crush Jason Miran rejecting me and my mosquito bites at the school dance.
Befriending my boobs
On the drive home from the hospital, I realized I had to befriend my boobs. It was as if they were on strike because of my reluctance to accept them for what they are. I sat down at my breast pump and decided that unlike middle school, I refused to let my son’s rejection define me. My breasts are a [small] part of my motherhood experience, but they are not all of it. Whether round or pointy, on display or hidden, elastic or inverted, over full or empty, I will still be a good mother. A good mother with a great set of tits.
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Jenna Pastuszek (she/her)is a professional actor, singer, voice over artist, musical theatre educator, and voice teacher. Jenna has performed in theatres across America in a variety of mediums, including her acclaimed solo shows GET HAPPY! and ME,MYSELF & BARBRA. She is a voiceover artist, voicing household brands like Starbucks Cafe, Pepsi, Amazon, KIND Bar, Target, IKEA, Crest, Toyota and more. She is the Co-Founder of Innovative Voice Studio, where she trains Broadway performers and works with leaders across industries through Innovative Performance. Previous faculty positions include The University of the Arts, New York University, The American Academy of Dramatic Arts, The American Musical Theatre Academy, and Musical Theater College Auditions. Pastuszek received her Masters in Teaching in Elementary Education and a BA in History and minor in French from the University of Virginia and her Masters in Vocal Performance and Advanced Certificate of Vocal Pedagogy from NYU Steinhardt. She is an Estill Voice International Master Trainer and a graduate of Seth Godin’s altMBA. Learn more at www.jennap.com.
