Parenting failures
The other day I called the county and had them send us a lead test for our water. I did the test yesterday (a very low-tech process involving several plastic waterbottles), and dropped it in the mail. I'm pretty sure there's at least some lead in our water and paint; the building is elderly, and poorly maintained. The paint is peeling, the doors stick. (Though the windows are vinyl, which is aesthetically tragic, but good for reducing lead exposure.) I think I'll also get the the kid's blood lead tested at a free clinic soon.
Thinking about all the toxics to which she's been exposed in her short life makes me feel really sad. By the time I finished downloading a substantial portion of my own body burden of poisons into her body through breastmilk, she'd already gotten a hefty dose of air pollution, courtesy of our residence in the badly polluted Bay Area. Her future health is already compromised to a significant but unmeasurable degree. I'll never be able to go to a policymaker and make them pay for her cancer/immune system problems/reproductive problems/respiratory problems/cardiac problems/obesity/whatever, and I'll never know what I could have prevented myself. Like all parents, I wish I could protect her from all grief and pain, could give her the absolute best chance at having a wonderful life. But not only am I unable to protect her from things over which I have no power, I'm failing to protect her from everything I COULD protect her from. I'm not keeping the apartment immaculately wet-wiped to prevent her from getting leadpoisoned. And I'm not calling legislators every day to make them take toxics out of consumer products.
Sometimes I feel like parenting is this crazy cascade of failures building on failures - I've been failing her from even before she was conceived. Every time I let her eat a cookie or don't yell at somebody smoking at the bus stop or ignore her when she says "mama please will you play with me?", I'm letting her down again.
Yesterday she was following another (older) kid around at a playground. The other little girl said "why are you following me?" and my kid said happily, "because I like you! I want to play with you!" and the other girl said "But I don't want to play with YOU."
Crushing. Her face crumpled in confusion and disappointment. I almost cried, myself. Of course, two minutes later, she was cheerfully climbing around like nothing had happened. After a while the other kid (who did seem to feel guilty for bumming out my kid) came over and said "now I will play with you a little" and everything was fine with the kids. But it was too late for me - the door to a whole school career of social rejections had been opened in my mind. Ugh.
The thing is, I know that this is all part of life. I even have a strong opinion that it shouldn't be the parents' responsibility to ensure that consumer society doesn't poison their kids. I still feel guilty. Though, apparently, not guilty enough to go wet-wipe her bedroom instead of typing up an exploration of self-indulgent angst.
Thinking about all the toxics to which she's been exposed in her short life makes me feel really sad. By the time I finished downloading a substantial portion of my own body burden of poisons into her body through breastmilk, she'd already gotten a hefty dose of air pollution, courtesy of our residence in the badly polluted Bay Area. Her future health is already compromised to a significant but unmeasurable degree. I'll never be able to go to a policymaker and make them pay for her cancer/immune system problems/reproductive problems/respiratory problems/cardiac problems/obesity/whatever, and I'll never know what I could have prevented myself. Like all parents, I wish I could protect her from all grief and pain, could give her the absolute best chance at having a wonderful life. But not only am I unable to protect her from things over which I have no power, I'm failing to protect her from everything I COULD protect her from. I'm not keeping the apartment immaculately wet-wiped to prevent her from getting leadpoisoned. And I'm not calling legislators every day to make them take toxics out of consumer products.
Sometimes I feel like parenting is this crazy cascade of failures building on failures - I've been failing her from even before she was conceived. Every time I let her eat a cookie or don't yell at somebody smoking at the bus stop or ignore her when she says "mama please will you play with me?", I'm letting her down again.
Yesterday she was following another (older) kid around at a playground. The other little girl said "why are you following me?" and my kid said happily, "because I like you! I want to play with you!" and the other girl said "But I don't want to play with YOU."
Crushing. Her face crumpled in confusion and disappointment. I almost cried, myself. Of course, two minutes later, she was cheerfully climbing around like nothing had happened. After a while the other kid (who did seem to feel guilty for bumming out my kid) came over and said "now I will play with you a little" and everything was fine with the kids. But it was too late for me - the door to a whole school career of social rejections had been opened in my mind. Ugh.
The thing is, I know that this is all part of life. I even have a strong opinion that it shouldn't be the parents' responsibility to ensure that consumer society doesn't poison their kids. I still feel guilty. Though, apparently, not guilty enough to go wet-wipe her bedroom instead of typing up an exploration of self-indulgent angst.
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