All I wanted my daughter to be for Halloween this year was something unusual. Maybe it’s because I always found the holiday rather ridiculous for so many reasons that I just didn’t want her to play by the rules. I wanted her to be an astronaut or a scientist. Maybe a vegetable farmer. I’d have settled for a Ghostbuster. But at four years old, there’s one character, and one character only, who she wishes to be. Can you guess? Of course it’s Moana.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Moana. Where do I even begin with all the ways that I love this girl? She’s smart and funny. She’s strong yet understanding. She’s brave. So brave. She loves her family. She takes the traditional hero’s journey and faces her fears like I can only hope my daughter will one day.

I love so many other things about this film, too: I love that the story presents the real issue of how limited our resources can become. That even in paradise, trouble can arise at any moment. I love the way it embraces an elder, even if they give her the nickname of “village crazy lady.” I love that farm animals are friends not food. I love that no one wears shoes and that my daughter noticed this. I love that coconuts may still have yet another use we’d never thought of. I love that Moana doesn’t need a man to solve her problems – and in fact, it turns out, he needed her to fix his. I love that the plot twist (spoiler) is that the fiery monster Te Kā was Te Fiti all along, just disconnected from her own heart. If that’s not a worthy lesson for kids (and their, ahem, many changing moods), I don’t know what is. In fact, that may be the most critical lesson here in a lot of ways. (And yes, for the record, I deeply love that Bowie-inspired no-one-could-have-done-it-better “Shiny” performance by Jemaine Clement.)

But, according to Redbook, if my daughter embodies this character of color so filled with, well, character and color, this Halloween, then both she and I are racists. End of story.

“To pretend to be a racial, ethnic or religious minority when you’re not makes light of their history,” the Redbook “Editors” wrote, “and reinforces a deeply problematic power dynamic, wherein white people use, then discard, pieces of cultures they’ve subjugated for centuries just because they can.”

I read this over and over because I want to do the right thing. Because I can’t believe we’re at this point. Because I’m terrified someone might spit on my child for wearing a costume that makes her poised and proud, just because her parents are white.

My daughter doesn’t know she’s white-white. She sees her skin, of course, and it’s not white. It’s pinkish in parts, beige-ish in most others. One of her bestie’s skin is as dark as night. Her neighbor, just a year younger, has hair as yellow as a daisy. Her daddy’s eyes are as blue as the sky. (And her mom’s hair color, well, that comes out of a box.) She sees this rainbow around her and she only understands the nuances of colors, the depth and beauty, not the lines we draw around them. And she certainly doesn’t love Moana because of or despite her skin color. She loves her because of her true colors.

At four years old, my daughter’s not culturally appropriating anything. She’s aiming. She’s setting her sights on someone who resonates, who motivates, and a story so genuine that it feels right to her. Because it is right. Because a girl who stands up to fear and danger and all for the benefit of other people is the world we desperately need right now, so much so that a preschooler can’t even seem to talk about much anything else.

In fact, if I told my daughter she couldn’t dress up like her favorite Disney character because she’s not Polynesian, or rather, because she’s white, I fear it may be more likely she could one day come to resent people of color because she wasn’t allowed to celebrate them. Isn’t that our whole problem in the first place? These god-awful displays of racism stem from a belief that people aren’t worthy, that they’re suspect, that they either took something from us or owe us something else. That what they look like, or what they wear is a bad thing because it’s different. And telling my daughter she can’t be this girl because of the terrible mistakes other people have made throughout history doesn’t solve a problem. It creates one.

I want my daughter to know no sharp edges between herself and her friends or her community. In fact, we’ve immersed her in an international school  that focuses on world cultures for this very reason. At age 4 she’s been exposed to more languages on a daily basis than I had been by age 20.

It’s only a “power dynamic,” Redbook, if she thinks these cultures owe her anything. And there’s no reason in the world for her to think that – and not just because she’s only 4 years old. She’s not “using and discarding” anything. Yes, she may grow out of her Moana phase eventually, but the lessons, the value, the poetry of that story – that’s something that will hopefully stick with her forever. And really, isn’t that the point? Isn’t that why Disney made the film in the first place? To empower the people represented in the story, to acknowledge the wisdom and the traditions? To give us new heroes? Don’t you think Lin Manuel Miranda takes his projects seriously and with respect? Don’t you think Dwayne Johnson wanted this story to be told not just for his own connection but also for his half-Spanish and half-white daughters? And what about Auliʻi Cravalho – the talented young actress who played Moana? Would she have agreed to do the film if everyone but white people could see it? How does that change anything? I know I’m all 20 questions here, but don’t children deserve the opportunity to be fully immersed in what makes them feel beautiful and strong and brave? Whether that’s a LeBron James jersey or a Moana costume – isn’t denying that just projecting our own convoluted grown-up bullshit?

Sure, I could stuff her in a Ghostbusters costume and placate her with corn syrup, but all she’d do is long to be Moana. Not letting her wear it doesn’t remove that desire. It’s just like Moana’s dad not letting her go past the reef. And we all know how that turned out.

If not being Polynesian prevents my daughter from being allowed to celebrate this story, then what should she be watching or wearing? By this logic, if we don’t embrace and immerse ourselves in other cultures, all she’ll know is Cinderella or Rapunzel and find herself locked away in her own castle of ignorance, waiting for someone to set her free. Or, like so many white girls I’ve known, she’ll wind up following the white rabbit down the hole into worlds not as forgiving as Wonderland. That’s not the world I want her to grow up in. It’s the world I’ve been trying to change. Women face enough challenges as it is. How can we protect each other if we we’re not allowed to love each other?

Toward the end of the film Moana encourages Maui to come back to the island with her, telling him her people could use a good wayfinder. “They already have one,” he says, looking straight at her, proudly. She understands. So does my daughter. It’s a powerful moment, the truth that Moana had been seeking all along has finally come to the surface. It was always inside her, of course, but now she’s got the strength and the courage to lead her people into a prosperous future. When will that happen for the rest of us?

Find Jill on Twitter and Instagram

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There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my daughter, which is why I am instilling empowering values coupled with an open line of communication from the very beginning.

Just the thought of my 14-month-old daughter, Everly, incites an emotional reaction that’s more powerful than any feeling I’ve ever experienced. Heck, I’d bet money that writing this article will make me cry at some point during the process because I just love her so damn much. She’s cutting a particularly difficult tooth this week, and, aside from a fever, this is probably the most uncomfortable experience of her short life — something I know, after more than three decades of being alive, will someday seem insignificant.

I grew up in in the ’80s and ’90s and became an adult in the early 2000s, all decades I like to consider sweet spots when it comes to having just enough technology to improve quality of life, but before social media was so powerful that a single slip-up could become life tarnishing. Today, our goals for raising girls are similar, yet with the prevalence of privacy-invading apps, extreme Photoshop, and a media obsessed with celebrities and stardom, we have a relatively new set of battles to face.

And while each of us may handle these situations differently, there’s something you and I can both agree on: we want our daughters to be happy, well-adjusted people who are confident in themselves! Because of this common thread uniting all mothers of little girls, I thought it would be beneficial to highlight some of the more important things I plan to teach my daughter about life.

1. Assume Everything is Photoshopped

Today’s standards of beauty are unrealistic. The flawless, poreless skin you see on the cover of Vogue isn’t real. The insane cleavage on that Victoria’s Secret poster has likely gotten that way through the use of something the lingerie brand’s former resident photo retoucher, “Sarah,” likes to call the insertion of “chicken cutlets” into the bras and swimwear.

When preparing images for print, she told Refinery 29 that she was instructed to make the Victoria’s Secret model’s breasts larger and retouch areas where hair and stubble would normally be, reminding readers, “They come to these photo shoots and, like, they have their arms up in the classic beach pose, and they have, like, hairy armpits. They all have stubbly pubes — all the normal stuff [non-models have].” So there. You’re beautiful, girl, pubic hair, stretch marks, scars and all!

2. Your Sexual Orientation Doesn’t Matter

Your sexual orientation doesn’t matter to me and neither does the gender you choose to identify with. I’ve already considered that my daughter may be anything other than straight. She may not even wish to keep her body the way it is, but if you think I’d chastise her for being who she is, then you’d be mistaken.

Expect that your daughter may one day come to you about these issues, too, and when she does, prepare to support her. The American Psychological Association published a study showing that LGB teens who experienced parental rejection grew up to be “8.4 times more likely to report having attempted suicide, 5.9 times more likely to report high levels of depression, 3.4 times more likely to use illegal drugs, and 3.4 times more likely to have had unprotected sex than LGB peers who reported no or low levels of family rejection.”

3. Know Your Body and Explore Your Sexuality

One day, we’ll have version of “the talk” and I’m not dreading it. In fact, I’m looking forward to being open with you from an early age, teaching you to identify your genitals by their proper names, and hopefully helping you feel comfortable coming to me with anything. When that day happens, this is what I want you to know.

You have a vulva and a vagina and a clitoris and they are glorious. They will serve you well to masturbate, look at your vagina in the mirror, and enjoy who you are as a sexual being. Don’t be like me and not masturbate for the first time until you’re in your early twenties, explore and discover your body sooner, rather than later. Heck, do this before you even consider having a sexual partner — you may find that the urge to have sex is greatly diminished, or even subpar to what you can do for yourself.

Like Joyce McFadden, psychoanalyst, speaker and author of “Your Daughter’s Bedroom: Insights for Raising Confident Women,” said, “If we don’t teach girls to understand and respect the capacities of their bodies, and help them navigate the complexities sexuality can impose on their social lives, it takes a toll on their self worth and makes them lose faith in us.”

4. You Don’t Have to be Famous to be Important

Okay, okay, I’m totally biased, because you will always be important to me, but in the grand scheme of things, and contrary to what the media might have you believe, you don’t have to be rich or famous to be important. Whether you’re a kindergarten teacher, a nuclear physicist, or a stay-at-home-mom, the job you do contributes to society in a positive way and is meaningful as long as it makes you happy.  

I say this because society’s infatuation with celebrities has become so out of control that there is a bonafide psychological condition known as celebrity worship scale (sometimes known as syndrome), or CWS for short. While individuals with these disorders are among the more extreme cases of celebrity obsession we hear about, there is a similar, less intense attitude that spans many media outlets. I mean, our country did just elect a celebrity into office, for crying out loud.

And if you think our teenage girls are exempt, then think again. Psychology Today released details showing a “correlation between the pathological aspects of CWS and poor mental health.” Although it cautions that most of the studies have been conducted on adults, “studies relating to body image have also included adolescents, and have found that among teenage females (aged 14 to 16 years) there is a relationship between intense-personal celebrity worship and body image (i.e., those teenage girls who identify with celebrities have much poorer body image compared to other groups studied).”

5. Take Social Media with a Grain of Salt

It may seem like your life revolves around what your friends are doing on Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and all of the other cool apps your mom will be too old to understand, but there’s one thing I know about life, and it’s try not to believe everything you see or read on social media. The majority of people only post what they want you to see. Sort of like a really good magic trick, social media has invented a platform for us to create an illusion of the perfect life.

I also know this may be asking the impossible, but try not to worry about how many “likes” you get or followers you have. You’re worth so much more than a click or double tap. 

And please, for the love of God, don’t post that partially-clothed selfie. You will be grounded, young lady. For life.

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Hey there moms and dads pulling out your hair and swearing you’ll sell your soul to god or the devil if your toddler will just go the eff to sleep, there’s no need to draw up that contract with Jesus (or the Prince of Darkness) just yet…

New research shows U.S. parents are now more than ever raising children without religion in the home — and, spoiler alert: they may be raising more moral children than those raising children in dogmatic, traditionally religious environments. (You may still pull your hair out, though, because KIDS SUCK.)

The research supports what many parents already know—religion isn’t necessary, caffeine and alcohol are. And in many cases, religion, unlike coffee, is a barrier from getting shit done. That’s not to say Christmas is going anywhere anytime soon, so don’t spend that tax return just yet– but according to Phil Zuckerman,  professor of sociology and secular studies at Pitzer College and author of “Living the Secular Life: New Answers to Old Questions,” there are more religious-less children in the U.S. than at any time in our history. And that’s a pretty big deal, particularly in the current political climate.

“The number of American children raised without religion has grown significantly since the 1950s, when fewer than 4% of Americans reported growing up in a nonreligious household, according to several recent national studies,” Zuckerman wrote in the Los Angeles Times in 2015. “That figure entered the double digits when a 2012 study showed that 11% of people born after 1970 said they had been raised in secular homes. This may help explain why 23% of adults in the U.S. claim to have no religion, and more than 30% of Americans between the ages of 18 and 29 say the same.”

According to the research Zuckerman points to, the “Longitudinal Study of Generations,” the largest multi-generation study of religion and family life in the U.S., families that don’t adhere to any religious dogmas exhibit “high levels of family solidarity and emotional closeness between parents and nonreligious youth, and strong ethical standards and moral values that had been clearly articulated as they were imparted to the next generation.”

In other words, religion may not only lead to moral quandaries (and rebellions), but it may also be a confounding pursuit. And that’s even with the likes of the semi-progressive leader of the Catholic Church, Pope Francis, articulating his leniency for abortion, same-sex marriage, and most recently, married men becoming priests, or synagogues and mosques shaking things up with Beatles nights, and Scientology…okay, never mind about Scientology.

Maintaining a regular religious practice for kids, and many parents, can often feel like a chore—a tick on the to-do list that can distract from things that earnestly make us better people, namely pursuing our passions, spending time in nature, relaxing, or just having some chilled-out uninterrupted family time discussing things like why religions shouldn’t dictate ethics.

“Many nonreligious parents were more coherent and passionate about their ethical principles than some of the ‘religious’ parents in our study,” study author Vern Bengston, a USC professor of gerontology and sociology told Zuckerman. “The vast majority appeared to live goal-filled lives characterized by moral direction and sense of life having a purpose.”

It’s the same argument well-known atheist and author Sam Harris has been making for years—that the absence of religion doesn’t make people inherently antagonistic or void of a moral compass. It’s more often quite the contrary.

“For secular people, morality is predicated on one simple principle: empathetic reciprocity, widely known as the Golden Rule. Treating other people as you would like to be treated. It is an ancient, universal ethical imperative,” notes Zuckerman.

And for many parents, religion is doing the opposite: imposing rigid belief systems that don’t allow for treating others as “the same” but rather, marginalizing entire groups  because of their religion, skin color, sexual preference, or gender identity. These outdated belief systems erode the very fabric of our culture; they’re myopic and self-serving, and in too many cases, organized to make (more) money for churches, temples, or synagogues than to allow for our forward progress as a society guided by principle instead of outdated dogmas.

Zuckerman also points out that kids raised in secular environments are less likely to succumb to peer pressure than religious children, and that air of self-confidence lasts through to adulthood in most cases.

“When these teens mature into ‘godless’ adults, they exhibit less racism than their religious counterparts, according to a 2010 Duke University study,” Zuckerman explains. “Many psychological studies show that secular grownups tend to be less vengeful, less nationalistic, less militaristic, less authoritarian and more tolerant, on average, than religious adults.”

And another startling fact was the absence of atheism from prisons: less than half of one percent of prisoners in the late 1990s identified as atheist, which correlates with crime rates around the world in democratic countries with low levels of religion.

“Sweden, Denmark, Japan, Belgium and New Zealand — have among the lowest violent crime rates in the world and enjoy remarkably high levels of societal well-being,” Zuckerman explains. “If secular people couldn’t raise well-functioning, moral children, then a preponderance of them in a given society would spell societal disaster. Yet quite the opposite is the case.”

For any secular parent raising a (mostly) human child, you know the only real religions worthy of your time are the mop and bucket, babysitters, coffee, and maybe a little shrine to the boxed wine gods. And, of course, a solid night’s sleep is infinitely better than any concept of heaven.

Find Jill on Twitter and Instagram

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Our bundle of joy was here, and I couldn’t wait to feed her. I knew breastfeeding was difficult, but nothing could have prepared me for the challenges I would experience.

On April 2, 2016 at 5:11 p.m., my life was forever changed. After nine months of waiting, 12 hours of labor, and 45 minutes of pushing, I was finally able to cradle my sweet, delicious, little girl in my arms. We were immediately encouraged to cuddle and breastfeed. She didn’t hesitate to latch on, and was a voracious eater from the time she was born. My heart was full and so was her belly.

I made a conscious decision to nurse early on in my pregnancy, and after researching, reading, and even taking classes, I knew that we were ready to begin this long term journey. Although I felt tremendous joy, accomplishment, and closeness with my daughter, the first several weeks weren’t all sunshine and roses. After experiencing pain, oftentimes toe curling, a plugged duct, and what I eventually found out to be an incorrect latch thanks to Patty, a certified consultant from La Leche League, my little peanut and I were finally able to move forward.

My supply was great. Too great, in fact, as I had an overabundance of milk for quite some time which lead to engorgement. However, with research and trial and error, I found that block feeding did the trick. Relieved, I thought the worst of the issues were behind us. Little did I know they were just beginning.

As we were breezing into her third month of life – time really does pass too quickly – breastfeeding was going beautifully. The closeness I felt with my daughter was undeniable. Seeing her gaze into my eyes, knowing that her nourishment and well-being depended on me, was at once the greatest and scariest feeling I’d ever experienced. Yet, as I watched her sweet little hands knead and flutter every night while she slowly drifted off to sleep, everything felt right in the world.

About two weeks into month three I noticed my daughter becoming increasingly fussy at the breast. So much so that her crying was almost incessant if she wasn’t nursing. And within a few days, she would unlatch, toss her head back, and wail. She couldn’t even settle during a feeding session and I hadn’t noticed a letdown since the morning prior. Meanwhile, her father and I tried everything we could think of to soothe our baby girl.

I began to fear the worst – that despite all of the articles I had read telling me otherwise, I simply wasn’t producing enough milk.

Frantic, I thought back to what had changed. What I could have possibly done wrong. I loved my daughter, so why couldn’t I have a letdown while imagining all of the sweet things I adored about her, especially while she was right there in my arms. I pictured my ducts swelling up with milk, so full that they had no other choice but to empty out into her mouth, flowing like a stream of water. I tried massage, stimulation, compressions, deep breathing. Nothing worked. I began to feel like a horrible mother.

And then, it dawned on me. About three weeks prior, after much internal debate, I decided to take the mini pill, a form of progesterone-only birth control, that was given to me at the hospital.

Heartbroken, I knew that the pill, coupled with her reduced diaper output and distress, meant I would have to supplement with formula. But nothing could have prepared me for the emotions I felt. That first day I cried, nearly uncontrollably, for hours. And every time I saw her unhappiness at the breast between formula feedings, I felt more and more like a failure. “Stupid, stupid,” I thought to myself, “Why didn’t you trust your instincts and avoid the birth control?”

I continued down this path for the next several days. The only satisfaction I had was seeing my daughter full, content, and happy again. With many more months of milk-based nutrition still ahead, I worried about more than just our connection, but also her health.

After discontinuing the medication immediately, and eventually coming to terms over a few very sad days that one of the most meaningful experiences I’d ever had was probably over, it was time for me to put on my big girl pants, because the blubbering mess I had become was the last thing my daughter needed. Rather than give up, though, I decided to do everything in my power to bring back my milk supply, to at least prove to myself and to her that I won’t give up that easily.

Shortly thereafter, along with the unwavering support of her dad, I began feverishly taking supplements, drinking powders,  eating oatmeal, upping my fluid intake, using an electric pump, using a manual pump, and when those didn’t work, learning to hand express. I would typically only extract a measly half ounce, and would rejoice at a full one. I began to feel defeated. This continued for several more days, until I was advised by the nurse and her pediatrician to rent a hospital-grade double breast pump.

Armed with this information, and never veering from my supplement taking course, I met with Mary, the owner and certified lactation consultant at Sweet Songs Breastfeeding, to pick up the only pump she had left in stock. Mary took her job seriously. I could tell it meant a lot to her, and after giving me some advice, I began to feel empowered. Hopeful. Like I could do this.

In the couple days that I had used the pump, I managed two and a half ounces in one sitting, which was the most I’d ever expressed at one time. You can imagine my elation over that. But, much to my dismay, the next session paled in comparison.

I knew it was only the beginning. That I would have highs and lows. Yet if I didn’t try, if I didn’t give it my all, how could I ever expect the same out of my daughter one day?

So for now, I’ll take the comfort nursing she requires in order to sleep for as long as she’ll allow it. I’ll continue to bask in the joy of every smile, every milestone, and every cuddle. I’ll drown in the intoxicating smell of her sweet scent, relish in her bath time excitement, and continue our early morning “talks.” With all of these beautiful moments and experiences, even if I never get my supply back, I feel like I’ve already won.

Have you struggled or triumphed with breastfeeding? Share your story with us on the EcoSalon Facebook page.

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The post I May Have Lost the Breastfeeding Battle, But I Won the War appeared first on EcoSalon.

Marissa Mayer, CEO of Yahoo, recently announced that after giving birth—to twins!—she will only take two weeks off for maternity leave.

Two. Weeks.

That’s barely enough time for any woman who recently gave birth to go to the bathroom without searing pain, let alone sit comfortably at a desk while running a major company.

There’s no question that Mayer can afford good childcare; and with twins, she’s going to need it, no matter how long she takes to bond with her new babies. But her decision to take such a short maternity leave has been controversial: critics say it undermines her commitment to women, and even her commitment to children; she is, after all, clearly putting her career first.

“[L]ess than 5% of the CEOs in the S&P 500 are female,” reports Forbes, “and career disruptions (among them, having children) have proven to be impediments to advancement.”

Others say that despite her quick return to her desk, her work performance may be compromised, and that she’s also feeding an unhealthy obsession with success: “[H]er decision seems emblematic of a workaholic culture that leaves too little time for family or even personal health, preventing either men or women from ‘having it all,’” writes Katherine Reynolds Lewis in Fortune.

There’s no question that having a child and a career requires a series of sacrifices. (As I sit here typing this, my daughter, who is turning two next week, is off with her nanny on a lunch and play date with a few of her friends, who are also accompanied by their nannies filling in for busy working parents.)

Handing off our children to caregivers is more common today than at perhaps any other time in history. Relatives, nurses, and nannies have always assisted in the upbringing of children; but  it’s only in recent history that it’s happened so that both parents can focus on their careers.

And that’s worth looking at.

Whatever we feel about women in the workforce, there’s a big difference between a mother taking a break from her children to have a nap, (or even enjoy some time with other adults and/or alcohol), and the mom who is inundated by a career and all the pressures it brings. Whether that’s driven by financial needs or simply career goals, is the mother who is checking work emails while breastfeeding really giving her family the critical attention it needs? What about the mother who foregoes breastfeeding because it’s too time consuming and will interfere with her work responsibilities? Not all mothers can breastfeed, but those who can are encouraged to do it for the countless benefits it provides the child (and the mom: breastfeeding has been linked to a reduced risk of breast cancer).

Yes, women are absolutely entitled to careers and the same opportunities as men (and while we’re on it, the same pay). But when we take on the responsibility of having a child—a responsibility exclusive to being a woman—our priorities need to shift. They have to. That’s not to say we can’t maintain or further our career goals. But being the bearer of children does make us different from men. It makes us stronger, more nurturing, and more capable in many regards. And, for a relatively short period of time, it also makes us beholden to someone (or several someones) else. Should we really be asking our children to sacrifice those few critical months so that we can get back to work? In the big picture, it’s such a short period of time for us to stop everything and simply nurture, connect, and form the bonds that, we hope, will aid our children in developing their own balanced and beautiful lives.

“[Mayer] conveys the image of someone who’s perfectly capable of combining her personal life and her public responsibilities without one derailing the other. That’s a message we should applaud,” Kathleen Gerson, professor at New York University and author of “The Unfinished Revolution: Coming of Age in a New Era of Gender, Work and Family” told Lewis. “It also suggests that somehow it’s illegitimate for women—and by implication for men as well—to take some time off at critical moments in their own lives and the lives of their children. To that extent, it’s a backward-looking message.”

Mayer’s decision is reflective of her own capabilities, as Gerson explains, but it’s also clearly a decision driven by priorities–and not just Mayer’s, but also the priorities of our culture. Had she been running a company in, say, France, there wouldn’t be as much pressure for her to return to work so soon, because the universal health care system and the generous maternity leave programs reinforce the importance of this incredible time for mother and baby. It reinforces the reality that life is not permanent and certainly our careers are not, no matter how important they seem.

The experience of parenting is fleeting and precious–and the joy of those moments with our children enrich us not just as parents, but as a culture too. But here in the U.S., maternity leave is often treated more like an inconvenient vacation than the miracle it is. So, it’s no surprise that Mayer has decided to attempt the impossible. But she shouldn’t have to.

Find Jill on Twitter and Instagram

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After giving birth, women are known to do some crazy things. (No explanation needed, right? We just pushed a human out of our bodies.) Among the more peculiar trends of late is the act of placenta eating—a ritual many American women subscribe to for purported benefits including hormone balancing, replenishing the body and staving off post-partum depression.

My daughter was born on a Sunday morning in 2013. After our home birth didn’t go according to plan, we wound up in the hospital. With our daughter just a few hours old, my partner left us alone so he could rush home to put my baby’s placenta in the freezer. Considered an organ (it is one, technically!), the hospital forbids moving the placenta from the delivery room to the hospital room. Had we delivered at home, our midwife would have had time to prep and freeze the placenta for us. But when my daughter was not budging after five eternal hours of pushing, we knew we had no choice but to head to the hospital (she was caught on the cord and her heart rate was steadily dropping). So there I was, alone, exhausted, and now worried to death about my sleep-deprived baby daddy driving home with a placenta in the front seat.

Once home, we did what our midwives instructed. A longtime vegan, I drank a smoothie with my daughter’s pulverized placenta mixed into it. It tasted like cold berries and metal. I detailed the event here on EcoSalon not long after it happened. We were advised to finish the entire placenta within about 10 days. They said it would prevent all sorts of issues, but the opposite happened to me: Shortly after drinking it one night, I was overtaken with cold chills. I was freezing in September in Los Angeles, chattering teeth and all. My partner called the midwife in a panic. “She is freezing,” he told her. My temperature was down to 95 degrees.

Not long after, I felt with overwhelming certainty that not only shouldn’t I be eating this organ, but like most humans throughout our history, I should instead honor it, bury it, and thank it for the life it supported inside me. The Kogi of Colombia’s mountains bury the afterbirth in a sacred spot. Children are brought there throughout the phases of childhood to honor and thank it like a passed relative.

Now, new research finds that placenta eating shows no health benefits. “[W]hether consumed raw, cooked, or in pill form, there are no proven, tangible benefits to consuming the placenta,” reports Time Magazine. “Perhaps more importantly, the risk level of doing so is currently unknown, so moms may be putting themselves (and their babies, if they are breastfeeding) in harm’s way by consuming afterbirth.”

Saving the placenta (even if the plan is to eat it), is certainly a more honorable fate than sending it off to the hazardous waste pile—there’s no question about that. But perhaps modern American mothers would reap more benefits from honoring this organ that sustained life rather than pureeing it at 28,000 RPMs. Food for thought, anyway.

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Newborn image via Shutterstock

The post Science Says Placenta Eating Has No Benefit to Moms or Babies (Also: It’s Totally Gross) appeared first on EcoSalon.

A parent child relationship can be tricky thing–for some it brings up feelings of security and unconditional love, but for others it’s filled with resentment and discontent. Maybe it’s aggravating and brimming with tension. For many of us, it’s somewhere in between.

No matter the current state of your relationship, there are steps you can take to improve a parent child relationship.

Examine Your Negative Feelings

If a parent child relationship brings up negative feelings, take a few minutes to meditate on why. What’s the cause of the deep seated aggravation? Have you looked at your parent’s perspective? When it comes to your relationship with your parents, are you taking their needs into account or are you putting your needs ahead of them? When we were younger, we expected our parents to take care of us and now as those roles begin to switch, it can be difficult to absorb.

Respect Your Parents Like You Would a Good Friend

Treat your parents with the same respect that you would a good friend. This attitude helps to stave off any tendency to correct and jump on your parents when they say something you consider offensive. Respect and understand the generation gap.

Improve a parent child relationship by respecting personality differences as you would in a good friend. You wouldn’t constantly criticize a friend for welcoming clutter, for example. So don’t attack your parents for the same issue.

Establish Ground Rules

By establishing ground rules, you avoid the need for awkward arguments later on. If your parents know they have to call before dropping by, then you’re a lot less likely to have to deal with resentment when they pop in unexpectedly. If they know you don’t want them disciplining your children when you’re present, it can stave off unnecessary conflict. Whatever your particular rules, knowing ahead of time relieves tension in the moment.

Related on EcoSalon

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Image: Lars Ploughmann

The post How to Improve a Parent Child Relationship appeared first on EcoSalon.

ColumnChildfree by choice: Society still doesn’t accept that some women don’t want to be moms.

On the heels of an August cover story in Time called “The Childfree Life,” this week, HuffPo Women brought us, 23 Things You Should Never Say To A Childfree Woman. Despite the fact that, as Time reports, today, 1 in 5 American women don’t give birth to children, compared with 1 in 10 in the ’70s, apparently there’s still a need for articles like the HuffPo piece for how to talk to emotionally frigid mutants like us.

As far as I know, I am technically able to get pregnant. To be fair, I am 36 and haven’t checked so, the “welcomeness of the womb,” as they say, is unknown. My husband and I made the choice years ago not to have children. As we’ve gotten older, we’ve checked in to make sure we’re on the same page, and I feel lucky that we have been.

As a childfree woman by choice, I have my own list of things I never want to hear. And, as a quick aside, if I’m annoyed by all of the know-it-all assumptions about childless women, I can only imagine how people who actually want kids but haven’t yet, or can’t, have them must feel when they have to endure these comments. I applaud those of you in that camp for not kicking people in the face on a regular basis.

1. You must hate kids.
I don’t hate children. I do believe that as little humans, kids don’t get an automatic pass to be assholes. Crying on planes: I get ya kid; I do it too, sometimes. A bad day and a random tantrum? Sure. I feel worse for the parents in those situations. But, kids who act like snotty, entitled brats and think the word should revolve around them? No thanks.

For proof that I do like kids, see the above photo of me with my fake nephew, Zach. We are reading about planes and discussing whether an apple-coptor would really work. He said “apple” when I pointed at the drawing, so I am fairly sure that he is super smart (definitely smarter than most kids his age) and knows that one cannot fly in produce.

2. You must be selfish.
Some people assume that those of us uninterested in parenting are selfish. My assumption, as long as we’re making them, is that those people are jealous that I have time to read a book with words. That I can say “fuck” whenever I want to, and that I don’t have to save money for someone’s college tuition. My other assumption is that they feel sorry for me because I “don’t get it.” Bringing me to…

3. You just don’t get it.
“It” being: I’m missing out on a depth of love I will never understand. In some ways, I agree that I might be. But I have thought a lot about this, and I’m okay with trading the life I don’t get for the life I have and love. Also, I will make your children love me. Watch out for aunt Libby! I will tell your children embarrassing stories about you and buy them expensive crap that you can’t afford because you have to buy them boring things like food.  

4. Who will take care of you when you’re old?
Your kids will! Ha ha. Kidding (mostly, see previous comment re: me buying your kids’ love). This is a big issue so, I will start with the assumption built into the question: That kids will care for parents as they age. Fact: Some kids can’t or won’t take care of their parents. How I will navigate old age is something I think about a lot. This has led to a two-part plan relying on smarts and karma.

First, build a life filled with friends of all ages (at the moment, the youngest person I would call to grab dinner is in her late 20s and the oldest is in her mid-60s). Fake-aunt the shit out of the kids I like. Help older friends navigate their DVRs or whatever new technology is baffling them. This helps you cover your karmic bases and keeps you connected with people who are older and wiser, and with people who know who those girls on the cover of US Weekly are.

Second, save money and get okay with the idea of assisted living (AKA: The Old People Dorm Plan) once you are too old for the—highly preferable for obvious reasons—Golden Girls Plan. To remain independent as long as possible, take care of yourself. I’m not looking forward to dealing with my care during my own demise, but I am pretty confident that my plan will work just as well as having kids.

5. You’ll change your mind.
No, I won’t change my mind, and if you wish that on me, we are no longer friends. I’m hardly an old hag, but we all know that as women age it’s not quite as easy to get pregnant. Telling a 36-year-old woman that she will change her mind is not only not your place, it’s not nice. I have seen numerous friends struggle to get pregnant. It’s not as easy for everyone as they tell you it is in sex ed, so bite your tongue.

6. You owe your totally amazing parents a grandchild.
The fact that my parents would be the best grandparents on the planet (and they would) doesn’t mean I should have a baby. This gem from the HuffPo, “Your mom had you!” seems to get at the idea that it’s my turn to reciprocate.

Well, why yes, my mom did have me. And for that I am grateful. I am even more grateful that she had me because she wanted to, and that she and my dad made a conscious decision to add on to their family. I would also like to applaud my parents for never pressuring me to have a baby. To reward them, I turn the other way when they give my dog people food.

7. Don’t you want a family?
Yes, I want a family—in fact, I have one. My husband and dog, my parents, his parents, some siblings, some stepparents, some grandparents, friends I have known for 33 years, friends I have known for what feels like 33 years, fake aunts, fake uncles, cousins, blood nieces and nephews, fake nieces and nephews, a work husband. All of these people are my family.

8. Do you think I’m lame for having kids?
No, that’s just dumb. I think it’s great that you want to have kids. I respect my friends for being honest about how hard it is to be a parent, for talking openly about what they have given up in addition to celebrating the joy they have gained—and for respecting my choice to be a kick-ass aunt and a supportive friend rather than a mom myself. I genuinely like seeing their kids’ pictures on Facebook.

In the constant conversations about how women create balance, where are the partners? The language used in articles about family and decision-making mirror how our society views children—as a woman’s decision (unless we’re talking about abortion, of course). For a single person (male or female, gay or straight), yes, deciding to have a baby might be a choice made alone. For a woman or a man with a partner, ideally this is a team decision. If it’s not, you may want to rethink your team.

Most conversations about childfree women seek to divide us in yet one more way. As women, rather than undermine each other for our personal choices with back-handed compliments and outright insults, we need to agree that all reproductive choices should be personal and applaud each other for whatever path we choose.

Related on EcoSalon:

The One and Only: Is Having One Child Better for the Planet

Udonis Haslem’s Wedding Announcement: That Happened

Having Sex This Week? You Might be Pregnant

The post Childfree By Choice: That Happened appeared first on EcoSalon.

EcoSalon chats with Keya Chatterjee, Senior Director for renewable energy and carbon footprint outreach at the World Wildlife Fund, and author of a new book about carbon-free parenting.

Before getting pregnant, Keya Chatterjee and her husband lived the type of low-carbon lifestyle that most of us only dream of. No car, no refrigerator, and 100 percent of their home’s energy supplied by solar panels. Once their baby Siddarth arrived, Chatterjee knew they were going to have to make some changes, but still wanted to keep their carbon footprint minimal.

Doing so took a lot of research and dedication, something that’s probably far down the list of priorities for expecting parents who’ve had their lives turned upside down. Thankfully, Chatterjee chronicled the entire process and put it into a book that can serve as a guide for the rest of us.

We recently caught up with Chatterjee to ask her some questions about the book and what she learned while writing it. Keep reading to find out what she had to say.

Eco Salon: What inspired you to write this book?

Keya Chatterjee: As a person who works on climate change, it was a tough decision to decide to have a baby– I was worried about the kind of world I would be bringing my baby into, and I was worried that having a baby would mean having to give up on our relatively sustainable lifestyle. I did tons of research while I was pregnant about the carbon pollution associated with different decisions we were making– about whether to move, what kind of birth we wanted, how to diaper (or not!), how to feed our baby, and even what type of child care to secure. It was harder than I thought it would be to find out what the most sustainable options were, so once I compiled it I really wanted to share it with other parents who might have the same interest in protecting the future for their babies.

ES: What aspect of having or raising a baby would people be surprised to hear carries a large carbon footprint?

KC: It’s electricity and transportation that makes the biggest difference– much bigger than diapers, which are nonetheless top of mind for many new parents. Parents could make a huge difference by deciding to move to a smaller home that is close to public transportation, or deciding to switch to a more efficient vehicle. Our carbon footprint actually got negative by giving up air travel, so transportation makes a huge difference even when it is for vacations!

ES: How do you respond to those who say the greenest thing we can do is not have kids at all?

KC: It’s a fair point, which is why I have a chapter on adoption in the Zero Footprint Baby. That said, as a parent, however you become a parent, you have a much bigger personal stake in the future of the planet, and that has made me even more engaged and committed. Also, I crunch the numbers in the book and show that it is possible to reduce your carbon footprint as you add a new bundle of joy to the family!

ES: What’s the most useful green parenting tip that you discovered while writing this book?

KC: What was most useful for me was finding out what changes had a huge impact on my carbon footprint and what changes had a more modest impact. Diapers are on our minds a lot, but solar panels make a bigger difference. I also discovered that the cost of solar panels has come down 75% since we bought ours in 2008, and that many homeowners today would save money immediately installing them, whereas it took us four or five years to get to the point where our electricity is basically free.

ES: We recently reported on Alicia Silverstone’s breast milk-sharing program “Kind Mama Milk Share.” Are there other types of peer-to-peer sharing or swapping can help parents raise a low-impact kid?

KC: Oh yes, ThredUp is a great website for helping parents share clothes, and so is Encore baby registry, which helps new parents register for second hand items. I also used Craigslist a lot, and our neighborhood listserve.

The Zero Footprint Baby is available on Amazon for $12.97.

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Images: Keya Chatterjee

The post How To Raise A Zero Carbon Footprint Baby: Author Keya Chatterjee appeared first on EcoSalon.

Kids grow like weeds. Save money and reduce waste by choosing furniture that can accommodate every growth spurt.

One of my best friends recently had a baby. Scratch that–actually her daughter just turned one, and is already yelping out words and scooting around the house. “How can you be 1?”, I wrote in her birthday card, “You were just a bump!”

Kids grow fast, in the blink of an eye really. The comparison to weeds is well-earned. The tiny overalls that were so cute a month ago now expose chubby ankles as the wearer expands toward the sky. Same thing goes for furniture. Buying a tiny bed or desk might seem adorable right now, but the brilliance quickly fades when you realize they’ll outgrow it before first grade even starts.

Modular furniture is designed to be flexible. Much like a new parent’s sleep schedule, it’s adaptable, changing at a moment’s notice depending on the child, activity, and available space. Yes, the average piece of flex furniture costs a bit more than conventional pieces, but you have to factor in future savings: shell out a little more up front, and the next bed or desk you buy might be fitted to their college dorm room.

1. Smart Kid Conversion Set by Adensen

Made of high-quality birch wood and non-toxic lacquer, Smart Kid is a multi-functional set of furniture that morphs along with your child. It can be assembled into a crib with a changing table and storage drawers, or a desk with a chalkboard, a bigger bed and all the drawers your child will need as it grows older. Suitable for children up to 10 years old. $1,170

2. Ergonomic Desks & Chairs by Posture in Style

Today’s children spend more time sitting than any previous generation. Designed specifically to promote good posture in young people, Posture in Style’s innovative line of German-made, ergonomic desks and chairs are safe, stylish, and feature rich. With tilt-able desktops, adjustable height surfaces and chairs, and customizable colors and designs, they’re an investment that cannot be outgrown. Chairs start at $475, desks around $800.

3. AZ Desk by Guillaume Bouvet

Who say’s children’s furniture has to look like it fell out of a circus truck? The AZ Desk possesses a modern sleekness worthy of an adult office, never mind the fact that it will certainly be covered in finger paint at some point. It includes a chair and writing surface that get taller as your child moves from toddler to adult. “Even the writing surface “grows up,” converting from a kiddie-friendly chalkboard into an ergonomic table,” reports Fast Co. Design.

4. Growth Table by Tim Durfee and Iris Anna Regn

In today’s busy world, work and school can often stand in the way of quality family time. The Growth Table is meant to encourage the entire family to gather together at the same surface, whether coloring, doing homework or paying bills. Especially perfect for homeschooling families with multi-aged children!

5. Grow Bike by Orbea

Admittedly, this isn’t a piece of furniture. But bikes are so integral to childhood (and staying active) that we just had to include it. Spanish bike maker Orbea designed a line of bicycles that grow along with your child and (supposedly) last youngsters twice as long as regular bikes. Along with the seat and handlebars, the bike’s lightweight aluminum frame can be adjusted according to height, which eliminates the risk of putting your child on a bike that’s too big before they’re ready.

top image: stevendepolo

The post 5 Fabulous Furnishings That Grow With Your Kids appeared first on EcoSalon.