BrooklynGirl

Dad Is Great

All the pre-schools in our new town are affiliated with churches.  Sometimes this relationship seems more significant than other times, and though The Boy's upbringing has been deliberately secular to this point, I didn't consider the God issue very much before signing him up for pre-school.

On our tour, the director told me that the teachers lead the students through a prayer before lunch: "God is great, God is good, etc."  I wondered how I would explain the whole idea of God to The Boy, but other than that, I didn't especially mind the prayer.

Now, The Boy has been pretty tight-lipped about his experiences at school.  He is eager to go and disappointed on the days that school doesn't meet, but he doesn't respond very well (if at all) to my questions about what he does while he's there.  And whenever I asked him directly whether he said a prayer at school before lunch, he ignored the question.  Until today.  

Today I asked him if he knew what a prayer was, and he nodded and explained that you fold your hands together, bow your head, and say:

"Dad is great,

Dad is good,

And we thank Dad for our food.

Amen."

Indeed.

Size Matters Again

We are just back from The Girl's 15 month check up at our new pediatrician's shiny and clean office.  Good Lord, I can't tell you how much nicer this doctor's office was than our one at home.  They had separate sick and well patient waiting rooms, clean toys and books, and a general air of competence.  This may be reason enough to love the suburbs.

The appointment was fine, but I was finally forced to have a real conversation about an issue I've been wanting to avoid: The Girl's size.

As I've noted before, she's big.  At 15 months, she's 33 inches and 32 lbs.  According to the pediatrician and this chart, that puts her above the 95th percentile for height and weight, but of course it's the weight that's getting the attention.  

The Boy was big too--although not quite this big--back in the days that he was a happy go lucky young toddler who would eat just about anything that I put down in front of him.  He quickly became a picky older toddler who ate almost nothing and was constantly on the move.  He lost his toddler tummy soon enough.

So, on the one hand, since I've BTDT with The Boy, I wonder if I shouldn't just give The Girl more time.  She started to walk 2 months later than The Boy and is only just now becoming truly frenzied in her physical activity.  She hasn't become a picky eater and still eats just about anything (which may be exactly the problem), but if she's anything like The Boy, that window will close soon.

But on the other hand, as a person who has struggled with her weight for most of her life (or more to the point, not really done enough about it to struggle), I want to do anything I can to help my daughter now so that she doesn't have to worry about it later.  The pediatrician suggests being more diligent about portion size, really pushing the vegetables and fruits ahead of anything else, and switching from whole milk to 2%.  None of those changes are earth shattering or particularly difficult (at least in theory), but the milk recommendation gives me pause.  This study seems to say that lower fat milk doesn't jeopardize neurological development, but I've heard the whole milk until age 2 recommendation for so long that I worry maybe I'm somehow prioritizing thinness above brain function.  Would I have worried the same way about The Girl if she was a boy?  What' next?  Giving her a talking Barbie to tell her that math is hard?

I need advice here, people.  Personal stories welcome--and I'd be especially appreciative of any resources about nutrition in toddlers (beyond Ellyn Satter whose books I'm consulting as soon as I press "Save").  

You Be The (Suburban) Parent--Resolved

Well, this was very educational, thanks.  

To be honest, I thought A and B were gimmes.  The Boy and The Girl are rarely asleep at the same time so I've only had the luxury of doing A once.  Some variation of B occurs several times a week as The Boy tends to crash on his way home from pre-school, and The Girl and I use that time to make dinner.  I felt pretty confident in B--the car is about 25 steps from the furthest point in the kitchen--but perhaps that confidence is foolhardy.

I dream about C.  It's funny that so many of us agree that it's probably okay but worry what people might think.

*****

Anyway, here are two more suburban mysteries:

1)  Spiders.  There are spiders EVERYWHERE.  In the house.  On the playground.  In the car.  Is this just the way things are out in "nature" or is there some kind of arachnid invasion going on that I should know about?

2)  Balloons tied on mailboxes.  I've seen these before--the painfully gleeful "It's a girl!" balloons from the dark, infertile days--but this town has a thing for its balloons.  There are balloons touting high school pride, college pride, and other things that I haven't figured out yet.  Are balloons a common form of communication?  

You Be the (Suburban) Parent

Under which of the following circumstances is it acceptable to leave a sleeping child in a car alone (assume the weather is temperate and the car is parked in the shade):

A) The car is parked in your driveway, and you are seated on the grass beside it, sipping a Diet Coke and reading the newspaper;

B) The car is parked in your driveway, and you are in the kitchen that has a large window that looks into the car allowing you to see said sleeping child;

C) At your quiet neighborhood dry cleaner, where the car is parked directly in front of the entrance and both car and child are in your view for the entire 3 minutes that you are out of the car;

D)  All of the above;

E) None of the above, and I have already reported you to the authorities for even asking. 

Settling In

Okay, I’m just going to jump back in here, and let you know that things are better.

Here are some things that are good:

• The Boy is in pre-school
• We’ve found a babysitter
• The playground near our house is lovely
• People have been incredibly kind.  It’s rare that a day goes by without someone giving me their phone number/email address when I mention that I’ve just moved here.

 

The bad:

Well, this is harder to put in bullet form.  As I mentioned above, the kindness of strangers has been overwhelming, but so has the gulf that separates me from most of the people who live here.  This is a wealthy town--something I knew before we moved here--but the magnitude of that wealth has been pretty shocking.  For instance, the house next to us is for sale for $1.6 million.  Our shabby little rental house is, well, a shabby little rental house.   Everyone drives a fancy car.  The preferred rainy weather attire is Burberry.

Now, these are not things that matter to me.  I would not feel comfortable in a $1.6 million house or a fancy car (okay, I do think those Burberry trench coats are pretty fetching), and I haven't really seen anyone turning up their nose at our house or our car, but I find myself turning up my nose at everyone else: Oh, she drives a Lexus SUV, she can't possibly want to be my friend.

There are other differences, but this is the one I'm struggling with the most--shallow though it may be.