So glad I'm not flying this holiday season

As if the thought of traveling pregnant with a toddler, or with a toddler and a baby is not intimidating enough on its own, now I’m supposed to choose between putting myself and my small children through a full-body scan with unclear effects or an invasive patdown? I’m
supposed to be content to have a private room with a witness as me and perhaps my children are mawed by security agents? Either my children have to go through radiation and their naked images appear to officers (some have gone as far as to call this child pornography) or go through what could be a disturbing and scary experience (described by one pilot as molestation)? No thanks. I think the TSA can do better. In the meantime, I’m glad to not be flying.

Which option would you choose for yourself and your children?

airport x-ray scanners and pregnancy

Did anyone hear the recent NPR report on concerns about airport x-ray scanners – the kind where you put your arms up and it takes a full shot of your body while exposing you to up to six seconds of x-ray radiation? It’s making me not want to go through them, especially when pregnant. Nor do I want my child to go through it.

The TSA says its optional and parents can choose to not have their children go through screening. However, my sense is that choosing the pat-down is not just a matter of making a choice. It comes across to me as more of a punishment – incurring either humiliation or a significant delay with an already long line.

We’ll see how the choice works soon, because I think I prefer to avoid exposure for my unborn child and my child, if not for myself. Those who say it’s safe compare it to the radiation received through flight – which is a matter of concern. But if I’m already receiving a potentially troubling amount of radiation during my flight, do I really want any more? No.

And how do they know it’s safe without long-term studies? It takes a while for chromosomes to be damaged and for cancer to occur. These machines have just appeared. It seems hard to be assured that results are not going to appear decades later for frequent travelers.

Worrying about this also makes me want to cut back on airline travel while pregnant. But so far, I have two trips to the Midwest, one to Europe and one to Africa planned. Hopefully that will be it.
Are you concerned about these machines? Why or why not? Do you plan to go through them? If you’ve opted out, how did it go?

Parenting the anxious child

I found this an interesting and well-researched article. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/04/magazine/04anxiety-t.html

Some of the more interesting points:

-Temperament as a baby tends to remain constant through life, especially for those at the extreme

-The 15-20% of babies who react strongly to novel people or situations are more likely to grow up to be anxious.

-An important factor in controlling anxiety is having something to divert one’s attention – such as an interesting hobby or job

-Those who are anxious and smart might turn out to be better employees

-There doesn’t seem to be clear evidence on how to best parent an anxious child – whether to push greater independence or to accept and acknowledge their fears.

I'm amazed by how many survived

Reading about the difficult living conditions (damp sod huts together with wind, snow and rain, a limited diet, disease, volcanic eruptions) in past centuries in Iceland, I’m not surprised to learn that the death rate was high. According the interesting book, A Ring of Seasons, 30% of children born in Iceland from 1750 to 1850 died within their first year. Between 1757 and 1845, 43% died before the age of 14. There was no doctor in the country until 1760.

One possible reason the author gives for the high death rate (among many others) is that the women rarely breastfed. This might have been due to the fact that the mothers worked hard and their milk therefore dried up quickly. Some babies died of malnutrition on watered-down cow’s milk.

Other sanitary conditions were also frightening. Women washed their hair in urine on the weekends, but otherwise, people almost never bathed. Sheets were washed once or twice a month, underwear less often. Trash was thrown into the central pond in Reykjavik and in other towns, collected behind the houses until dumped on the shore for the sea to take away. Lucky for Iceland, they didn’t have rats for a long time.

Children worked hard with little rest and Icelanders started to grow taller only after they were able to lessen their workload a bit.

Given these conditions, what surprises me is not the high death rate, but the fact that people survived and carried on to procreate. Living standards in Iceland have been good since World War II and now probably surpass the U.S. (yes, it can be cold and dark, but it seems the Icelanders have been genetically selected to tolerate the dark better than others). Still, when I look at people and think of what their descendants went through, from the Viking settlers to the women kidnapped from Ireland and brought over here, to the natural disasters and the poor conditions, I’m amazed by those who survived.

Dinner with an Icelandic Family

I was recently invited to dinner by a kind Icelandic family with three children, ages 13, 10 and 4. Over grilled fish, roasted sweet potatoes, and ratatouille, I was able to learn more about family life in this northern country.

I asked the mother, Gurri, about the numerous baby carriages. Were Icelanders having a lot of babies or were they just taking them outside more often? She thinks they are having more babies. “It’s become a bit of a trend, during the recession,” she said. “You see carriages and pregnant women everywhere you go.”

Icelandic law allows for three months maternity leave, three month paternity leave and another three months to be used by either parent. Children can get a spot in a daycare somewhere between ages one and two. Until then, they rely on parents, grandparents, relatives or “home-mommys,” which are in-home daycares where up to five young children can be cared for.

Gurri pays just over $200 per month for full-time daycare for her son, including a full menu of home-cooked meals. This is thanks to government subsidies. She had been working full-time when she became pregnant with her third. Finding it too difficult to balance three children with a full-time job, she quit and stayed home for a year and a half. Now she is back at work. She gets up at 6:30 to go to the gym before work, then works an eight hour day. Her son’s daycare is less than a block away from home and her daughters’ school is just around the corner, within walking distance. The entire family sits down for dinner together in the evening.

In the summertime, her two elder daughters are largely on their own. The eldest, who is very involved in gymnastics, spends much of her days training. The 10-year old hangs out at home alone, plays with friends and visits her grandparents, who live within walking distance.

Icelanders get at least 24 days of vacation per day. In addition, they get 2 sick days per month for themselves and two days per month to care for their children. “So when we call in sick, we have to specify whether we are sick or our children are sick,” Gurri said.

They spent several years living in the U.S. The short vacations and poor social support offered in the U.S. led them to return to Iceland. “It was a serious factor we considered when we were deciding whether or not to stay there,” she said. “We would go to Iceland to see family in the summer for 4-6 weeks at a time. That just wasn’t possible with the vacation available at a U.S. job. Also, the daycare is so expensive and it’s very hard with no family nearby. In the U.S., your friends become your family.”

All of the children seemed to be affected by the daylight which lasts until well past 11 p.m. The 10-year old had slept until noon and was wide awake. The 13-year old had been up until 4:30 in the morning and was exhausted. The four year old was up several hours past his bedtime. His mouth smeared with chocolate from dessert, he put on a Viking cap with horns and accompanied me to the bus stop at 10:30 p.m., looking out for monsters to fight along the way.

The family lives in a duplex in a suburban neighborhood. Their home is spacious and airy, but they have only three bedrooms and the four-year-old still shares a room with his parents. “I’d really like to stay in this neighborhood and find a house with one more bedroom,” said Gurri. “But they don’t come up very often and they are very expensive.” Another option might be to turn half of the heated garage into another room.

Even though everyone had been occupied during the day, the family managed to put together a nice meal and enjoy an evening together. The 13-year old made the dessert – skyr and marscapone cheese with maple syrup and berries. The father grilled the massive piece of halibut, which fed five with much to spare. And mom took care of the side dishes. They were relaxed and friendly with each other. They had recently returned from visiting family in Scandinavia. While they were gone, the 4-year-old had his birthday. But it’s important that grandparents and relatives are invited to the party, so they all assembled when they returned.

The quality of life appealed to me – the reasonably priced quality daycare, having everything so close to home, the close family relations, the reasonable work schedule with adequate leave and the ability to spend long, relaxing evenings together. It’s the type of balance I strive for.

Icelandic children through the ages

Here are some toys played with by Icelandic children in earlier times. The first is a collection of bones. The second is a play village. The bones scattered about the village were used to represent animals in the community.


Here is the report card of a little boy from 1910.








He studied in a schoolhouse like this one.






Children often slept together with the entire family on one floor of the house. Or at a minimum, in a room with several beds, like this one.



Our tour guide told us how his grandfather had 14 children, all from the same wife. They all slept together in the loft of the house. When the guide asked his grandfather how he got the privacy needed to sire more children, he said he scattered raisins across the floor of the house on the lower level. If he needed extra time, he had the children wear mittens.

Baby social networking

A recent article in the New York Times wrote about new sites that provide social networking for babies – kind of like Facebook for minors. I wrote to an internet parent group I belong to to see if anyone had tried it. Some people said they had set up blogs for their children (allowed invited readers only) but no one had tried these sites.

I decided to take a look. I signed up for two sites, totspot.com and kidmondo.com.

Kidmondo was sleek and had a lot of tools (like growth charts and a dental record), but I had some difficulties with the process and I felt the emphasis was on eventually selling me a baby book. I like that a baby book is available – it allows a child’s first year to be recorded just through the day to day updates a parent provides to friends and family, but I’d rather that be an available service rather than the focus.

Totspot also had it’s glitches in starting up. But I liked the easy to access feedback form on the bottom of the screen and the fact that they seemed to value receiving feedback. This made me think they were working to make it a site that meets the needs of parents. I also liked the kid-friendly color scheme, the answers to questions that parents might be concerned about, and the fact that I didn’t feel they’d be trying to get money from me anytime soon.

I spent the bulk of last weekend setting up River’s page – entering his firsts, writing his favorites, putting up photos and videos. I then sent a link to the grandparents to see what they thought. I wanted to know whether they preferred this format, which requires the initiative to log in and see what River is up to, or whether they’d prefer the bi-monthly link to photos online.

Mark’s parents have yet to try it. My parents gave it a thumbs down. Of course, they’ve never used Facebook, so they found some of the features difficult. By this point though, I’d spent so much time making the darn page I wasn’t yet ready to abandon it.

So I invited the rest of the family and friends. One week later, only a small number of those invited have followed through on the invitation. Even my husband hasn’t joined because he didn’t like having to register and provide personal information. Most of those who have joined are in their 20s and 30s, users of Facebook, and they seem to think it’s cool. Three of my friends already have pages up for their kids since I sent the first email. Even my parents, who gave it an original thumbs down, have returned to view updates and may be getting the hang of it. At this point, I’m enjoying seeing my child’s “friends’” (or the children of my friends) pages, so I’m probably in for the long-run.

So far, here’s my impressions of the pros and cons of baby social networking sites;

Pros:

• It’s private. Only the people you invite can see your child’s information. And unlike Facebook, where you can sometimes click through to friends of your friends, you can’t on totspot.
• After the initial time investment involved in setting up the page, it only takes moments per day to keep it updated.
• The frequent updates allow people who care about the child to have a much more detailed glimpse into what is happening in their lives. This is especially useful for relatives who live far away.
• It is an easy way to store information for a future baby book or other record-keeping of your child’s life.
• Totspot sends an email when any child you are linked to updates their profile, so you have a reminder to come back and check when there is something new.
• The child-friendly tools, like the growth charts/dental charts/record of firsts are fun

Cons:

• Having to sign in and register is a big barrier for a lot of people who already have a million user names and passwords.
• On totspot, for now, you have to upload your videos via youtube or another video service. This requires setting up an account there, and you have to make your videos public in order for the link to work. Therefore, while your videos don’t have a name or identifying information on them, they are no longer private.
• Unlike a personal blog, which you have more control over, you never know when the site owner may decide to change the format, limit stored information, etc.

Visiting Falllingwater with Children

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater has a strict no children under six policy. This applies even to small babies that can be carried in a carrier attached to the parent. If you are going to Fallingwater alone with a child, you are out of luck. If you have two adults in your group, you’ll need to take turns going on the tour, while one stays back with the child/children. This is time consuming (and makes it difficult to see both Fallingwater and Kentuck Knob in the same day) but is doable.

Just schedule your tours about 1.5 hours apart. We purchased tickets online because we thought we could have some trouble getting in on Labor Day weekend. We went on the Monday of Labor Day and it was possible to get in without advance tickets. There was just a 60 minute wait. We could have saved the $2 per ticket “processing fee” if we’d just purchased them on-site.

There is plenty to do while waiting. There is a family room available for sleeping, changing, nursing, rocking, etc. There is also a café (mostly soups, salads, sandwiches and snacks, but made with all-natural ingredients), gift shop and exhibit room. I made use of the trails, exploring the grounds and taking in the views while waiting. Most paths are stroller accessible, so I only had to carry River down on set of stairs and along one hiking trails.

Note that trail H, which is supposed to go to a beautiful view north of the house is NOT worth it in summer. The leaves on the trees block almost the entire view.

Instructions on how to Raise a Tennis Player

I recently attended a conference where one of my classmates was a pro tennis coach. Mark and I would like to get River into tennis, though whether or not he wants to go pro will be based on his interest and ability. Here are the recommendations the coach gave me for setting a solid basis for a youngster:

Age 7 -12 months: Buy some ping-pong balls and roll them back and forth with baby. This helps develop tracking skills.

Age 3-4: Buy a racket and let the child hit against the garage or other wall.

Age 5 or 6: Take the child with you when you go play tennis. See if expresses any interest. Wait for him to ask for lessons.

Age 6 and up: When child asks for lessons, provide them. This coach recommended private lessons of only 15 minutes since she says that is only as long as most kids can concentrate. She suggested finding another family/child to share a half-hour or hour lesson with, dividing the time between the two children. She recommended a coach who is firm about expectations and behaviors.

Por Los Ninos

After a Spanish lesson in the morning during my stay in Boquete, Panama, I decided to visit Hogar Triskar, a local orphanage, as part of the Por Los Ninos volunteer program. Volunteers, mostly expatriates who live here, come to the orphanage twice a week to spend quality individual time with the children.

It was clear they needed it. They call the foreign volunteers tia or auntie. And an entire crowd of outstretched arms greets them – wanting to be hugged, to be picked up, to be recognized as special.

The playroom had small stuffed animals hanging by threads from the ceiling. I picked up one child and lifted her high enough to touch one of the animals. She loved it. Then another wanted to do the same thing, and another, and another. Then the first wanted to go again. The same thing happened when I gave them horsey back rides. It’s so hard to say no to them, but it’s also not realistic to continually lift about ten kids time and time again. I knew their lives were full of taking turns and of hearing no, so I did my best, but I felt it wasn’t good enough.

My Spanish teacher Margarita had told me that people brought their children there when they were unable to care for them. My host mother Lorena said no, it was crazy women who didn’t want their children any more and gave them up, even when they were still tiny.

I found few small babies there. The youngest was six months old. There were 52 children living there at the moment, but that number seems to fluctuate. The saddest sight was two young girls, 12 and 14 years old, caring for their babies. They had been rejected by their families upon becoming pregnant, so both they and their offspring are being raised in the orphanage.

My 27-year-old host sister, Magdalena, told me that teenage pregnancy is very common. Her own brother had a baby with a 17 year old girl. Abortion is illegal and Magdalena said the social system doesn’t prepare girls. “They don’t receive any sex education,” she said. I could only imagine what their boyfriends or their abusers told them and how easily it would probably be believed. For them to subsequently have no remedy, when they are just children who were probably taken advantage of, I find really horrible.

Compared with other orphanages I’ve visited, the material conditions here were pretty good. The beds looked neat and clean, they had a variety of toys, effort had gone into decorating the room. They wore decent clothing.

But it was clear that some had suffered abuse, like the little boy who stood off to the side. I approached him gingerly, pick him up, paid some attention to him. He smiled, but hesitantly, as though afraid this nice moment would suddenly turn bad. And there was the 10-month old girl, who seemed to look out at the world with a dull stare.

Most of them just lacked the love and security provided by parents, the ability to feel unique and special in the eyes of another. It was clear the foreign residents had done a lot to help. My host father Francisco said the residents of Valle Escondido, one of the exclusive developments, were paying the salaries of some local staff to work full-time at the orphanage. And these volunteers came to try to meet the children’s need for attention, if only partially.

This evening, River lay in my lap, swaddled like a green bean, drinking milk from my breast. As I sang him one of his favorite songs in the cool evening breeze, he looked up and smiled, happy, before going back to his milk. He fell asleep tight, secure and loved. I believe that every child deserves to go to bed that way each night, not to climb into bed next to 20 others, but to feel the comfort of an adult’s arms and the peace of a song sung especially for them.