Author: Rebecca Cuneo Keenan

Rebecca Cuneo Keenan is a writer who lives in Toronto with her husband and three children.

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Facebook Deletes Nursing Wear Page

Did you think Facebook didn’t need to #suckit anymore? You were wrong.

Momzelle is a successful, small, local Toronto business run by the sister-brother team of Christine and Vincent Poirier. They sell made-in-Canada nursing tops that are specifically designed to allow for comfortable and discreet breastfeeding. While Momzelle does have a small store-front location (1593 Dundas St. W.), the bulk of its business is in online sales. So of course it had a Facebook page to help promote the nursing wear and breastfeeding in general. The page posted positive quotes about breastfeeding and informative news links and boasted between 600 – 800 weekly readers and 1600 fans.  It also had pictures like this:

Christine received a form email from Facebook on Monday afternoon informing her that her page had been taken down for not following the rules. It either promoted heinous hatred, personal attacks, or obscenity. Christine promptly replied to the email stating that there must be some kind of mistake and filled out a complaint form. At the time of writing this post, 30 hours later, she had yet to receive a response.

So what gives? Clearly, there is nothing offensive or obscene about the kind of image posted on the Momzelle Facebook page. In fact, the entire point of the nursing wear is to allow women to breastfeed discreetly and not have to expose their breasts. Christine is confident that no actual person working at Facebook could have viewed her page and deemed it obscene. It must be that some Facebook users have reported the page as “sexually explicit,” she speculates, and that after a certain number of reports a robot automatically takes down the page. “I love Facebook,” Christine told me. “I advertise with them. I can’t believe this is a real Facebook decision.”

The struggle for Christine and Vincent now is twofold. They need to get Facebook to hear them and have an actual person review their page and hopefully have it reinstated. They also need to address the problem of broader acceptance of public breastfeeding. The fact that any number of people would report a page like that is mind boggling. It also goes to show that rejoinders that claim that women just need to cover up and be discreet are often false in themselves. The very idea of a baby suckling on its mother’s breast is enough to offend some people.

When she first got the email, Christine couldn’t help herself. “I felt so shamed, like I was told to get out of a restaurant.” Which is, of course, exactly what her product is designed to avoid.

257,747 (and counting) people have already joined the Facebook group Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene! (Official petition to Facebook). You should join too.

Update: Momzelle has a new Facebook page up and running now. They could sure use some more likes.

Update: Thanks to a influx of support, Facebook has reinstated the original Momzelle page.

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On Family Planning

If you’re thinking about another baby,

Then try to conceive before your last baby turns two.

Oh, it’ll be hell a challenging kind of heavenly for a solid year,

Trying to cope with an infant and a two-year-old,

But eventually it will become manageable and your family will be complete.

Because if you wait until after your last baby turns two,

Then you will never want to have another baby again.

Mommy loves you, little girl, but you don’t rule the universe.

Man.

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On the Importance of Meal Plans

I just cleaned out my freezer and threw out enough food that I’m twitching down to the very tips of my thread-bare Scottish roots (maternal side).

You know how you’ll see a good price on chicken breast or pork loin at the store and pick up an extra to freeze for later?* That’s a normal thing to do, right? Well, I don’t know if most people move the meat into a special freezer container or what, but I just tend to toss it in there supermarket styrofoam backing and all. I have a feeling that’s not the best method for longer term storage, but I always plan on defrosting that meat within a couple weeks anyway.

Plan on defrosting — no, that’s a total lie. If I actually had a plan, then I would be able to say, “Oh, look, tomorrow’s chicken night. Let me defrost these chicken breasts in the fridge overnight so that when I start cooking dinner at 5:35 it will be ready by our 6:20 family dinner time. Instead I suddenly realize sometime after 4pm that the kids need to eat and what will I do and is Ed coming home and where is that takeout menu when you need it!? At which point, you see, it’s too late to defrost the bloody chicken.

So the freezer is already kind of full when there’s a strange knock on my back door at 3am and I happen to be up because I’m crazy and I peak out and see my neighbour. I call to my husband who is also crazy and tell him that I’m not opening the door at 3am. He walks over and opens it and then calls out, “Do we have any freezer space?” Wha? It turns out my neighbour has a minivan full of frozen meat and has run out of freezer space and we’re welcome to whatever we can fit in ours. How, er, nice.

“I don’t want frozen 3am minivan meat,” I hiss. “The freezer’s actually pretty full already,” I call out. My husband walks into the kitchen with two plastic bags full of breaded, frozen meat. Fantastic. Into the freezer it goes. Then, a couple weeks later, there’s another knock on my door. It’s 3pm this time and it’s a giant box of frozen fish in the van. “Quick! Grab a bag and help yourself to some fish!” he’s grinning from ear to ear. What could I do? I took a plastic shopping bag and stared into the box of name-less white fish fillets. I put a couple handfuls, a polite amount, into the shopping bag and call out a thank you while holding up the bag on my way back inside. “Take more,” he insists. “Oh no, this is plenty for us. Thank you. Hey … where did you get all this?” He looks at me blankly, “From my work.” I shove the frozen fish into the last remaining crevice to be dealt with at a later time.

Then, a Diet Coke explodes in the freezer. There is frothy brown-black frozen crap over every surface. I stop using the freezer entirely. For months.

Today I reclaimed my freezer, but not its contents. So I pitched it all, but it still hurts. I really don’t think I can afford to shop these sales anymore.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to write down my meal plan for next week. I think we’ll stick with vegetarian.

*This seems to be quickly devolving into a bargain shopping blog. So here, let me steer things back on course: a picture of my kids!

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12:10 Coffee Break

Do you know that part in Scaredy Squirrel where he makes a change to his daily routine?

Right, ok. There’s this kid’s book called Scaredy Squirrel that my son got for a present. (Thanks, Candide.) The squirrel in this book is a paranoid germaphobe who stays in his nut tree all day, every day. Until … one day he falls out into the Unknown and discovers that nothing bad happens. He then decides to incorporate one jump into the Unknown into his daily routine.

I am like Scaredy Squirrel right now. Well, except that I am not a paranoid germaphobe and don’t live in a nut tree and am fairly well-acquainted with the Unknown. But I do have a routine now that the school year is well underway and I’m ready to make a change to it.


The Good Neighbour, a favourite new spot. Image courtesy http://blog.mukodu.com/

Instead of my current afternoon routine: Bring Colum to the bus stop, Walk back home, Put Irene down for a nap, Clean up lunch things, Start working just as Irene wakes up.

Let’s try this: Bring Colum to the bus stop, Go to coffee shop with Irene, Drink coffee and read a paper with Irene, Walk back home, Put Irene down for a nap, Clean up lunch things, Start working just as Irene wakes up.

I suddenly realized just how much I miss taking a break that doesn’t involve collapsing on the couch and looking at all the housework that needs to be done. I miss picking up newspapers made out of newsprint. I miss the atmosphere of cafes and restaurants. And I don’t need to.

This is why I bought a house in the city. This is why I am not homeschooling my kids. (Or one of the many, many reasons. God.) This is why I spike Irene’s milk with sedatives. No, no! Totally kidding about that one. Really, I do not drug my kids. Promise. (I’m totally going to live to regret that joke, aren’t I?)

I’m pretty sure that I can do this and nothing bad will happen — as long as I don’t stray too far from my nut tree.

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Formula For Boycott, Gay Parenting, and Mom Bloggers For Sale

Every Friday night, when I don’t have anything better to do, I try to read some blogs and generally get caught up with my corner of the blogosphere.  (You know, where parenting intersects with Toronto.)  Sometimes I even indulge in a wee alcoholic beverage or two while I do this.  Why not take this relaxing past-time, I thought, and somehow turn it into work? I know!  I’ll write a re-cap blog based on my reading and that’ll sell like hotcakes on the interwebs. Or at least I’ll start blogging more regularly and about Important Things that everybody else is on about. So, unless I find something better to do, give it up for:

THIS WEEK IN THE MOMOSPHERE

  • Okay, so this first one is totally from last week, but whatever. Old Navy sells infant onesies with “Formula Powered” printed on them and the internet goes crazy. The lactivists are aghast at the company’s blatant disregard for the health and well-being of babies everywhere and you can practically hear them chanting, “Boycott! Boycott! Boycott!” Then there’s the backlash in favour of the poor souls who can’t breastfeed for whatever reason; don’t they have the right to buy t-shirts advertising their own feeding method? Isn’t that in the constitution? There was even, get this, a boycott of the boycott in which people vowed to shop more than usual at Old Navy. And, yes, there were a couple voicesof reason amidst the fracas, too. So if you happen to be compiling a worst-baby-shower-gift-ever list, this shirt could probably crack the top ten. 
  • As long as we’re dipping into last week’s news, people are still reeling from the suicide of a gay Rutgers student and the precipitating invasion of privacy by his roommate. Parents are blogging about raising tolerant and accepting children. Dan Savage talking about getting to be a gay parent will make you cry. Even Sarah Silverman has nothing funny to say about this. I tend to miss much of the Christian-right, homemakers dialogue, somehow, but it seems they have even found nicer waysof saying that homosexuality will send you straight to hell and keep those people away from my children. 
  • Long live high fructose corn syrup (HFCS)! (That’s glucose/fructose for us Canadians.) Mom Central Consulting took on the Corn Refiners Association (CRA) as a client and organized a blog tour to promote the view that HFCS is just like sugar. Several bloggers were paid in gift certificates to pass on the edu-promotional material presented to them. That’s about when the shit hit the fan. Some very capable and level-headed bloggers called out Mom Central and the individual blogs for selling out their integrity on such a hot-button topic. Mom-101 in particular argued against HFCS for nutritional, environmental and economic reasons and stressed that bloggers have an obligation when they’re being paid to know what the hell they’re writing about. Stacy DeBroff of Mom Central responded on her blog with all kinds of golden Star Trek/Borg material. Liz Gumbinner from Mom-101 then answered backon her own blog and now there are a lot of bloggers clutching gift certificates who just don’t understand why the nice doctors would lie to them. 
  • In other totally unrelated mom-bloggers-fawning-over-brands news, the She’s Connected Conference is happening in Toronto in less than two weeks. All over Twitter, Canadian bloggers are gushing about how much they really, really, really want to be selected to attend a one day conference which is going to be half, “Why you should work with brands,” and then the other half, “Hi! Here are the brands!” (I’m not saying I’m not going, I’m just saying I forgot to “apply” until just after the deadline.) It’s better than winning a chance to go to an infomercial; it’s like earning the chance to work for a company — for swag.
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Like a Sack of Potatoes

Twenty-pound bags of potatoes were on sale at my local supermarket this week for $3. Now I know a good price on potatoes when I see one and I wanted those potatoes. A 20-pound bag is too big to fit in the back of my stroller, however, and I haven’t had the time recently to do a big shopping with the car. I was afraid I was going to miss the sale.

Flash forward to this morning when I was catching up on emails and assorted business at a local cafe. (What? You don’t call Facebook business?) I suddenly realized I had to be home to relieve the sitter — I love you, Mom! — and get Colum to the school bus in 25 minutes. That was hardly enough time to warrant opening a word processing program, but it was exactly the perfect amount of time to swing by the grocery store to get my potatoes. Granted, I still didn’t have my car, but without the kids carrying a 20-pound sack the five or six blocks home shouldn’t be a problem, right? What’s 20 pounds anyway? Babies weigh 20 pounds and I carry them around all day, all the time.

The sun peaked out from behind rain clouds as I made my way over thinking about what I would do with my potatoes. Potato leek soup would be perfect and, actually, I could really go for a carrot ginger soup, too. So I picked up some carrots, ginger, leeks and onions on the way to the potatoes. Holding my basket in one arm, I hoisted the giant sack of potatoes up with my other and held it against my body. I walked around the display. Not bad at all; I could totally manage this.

By the time I finished checking out, the sun had long gone and it was raining again. Oh, did I say rain? I meant to say torrential downpour, an apocalypse-worthy gushing from the heavens, some serious cats and dogs, my friend. So I slung the reusable shopping bag my laptop computer was in  — didn’t I mention the laptop? — and my corduroy purse that contained a cell phone, an iPod Touch and a camera over my right shoulder. I dangled the plastic shopping bag full of carrots, onions, leeks and ginger in the crook of that arm and held a boy’s dinosaur umbrella with my hand. Then with my left arm I held the potato bag horizontally against my side, just like I’d tried out in the store, and strode out into the deluge.

By the time I got half-way across the parking lot I wanted to cry.

Instead, I reasoned with myself. If I could keep walking like this for another block I would re-adjust my grip on the potatoes which would, in turn, give me the stamina to continue. So I kept on. For four more blocks I pushed forward against the wind and the rain, shifting the lumpy paper sack this way and that, gripping my purse and praying that all of my expensive, electronic gadgets wouldn’t be ruined all at once so I could save a buck on potatoes.

I turned the final corner onto the two-block-long home stretch just as the rain picked up even more. I could barely see and had to lean forward against the gale thinking that if I could only make it to the railway underpass, then I could put everything down and readjust. Of course the underpass was a veritable wind tunnel and whenever I tried to set the dinosaur umbrella down it was picked up and carried away. So there I was soaked to the bone scrambling to catch a child’s umbrella because I had promised Colum that I would return it unscathed if only he would let me borrow it for the morning and still needing to transport 20 pounds of potatoes plus carrots, onions, leeks, ginger, a laptop, a cell phone, an iPod Touch, a camera and my sanity another block through a practical monsoon.

I briefly considered leaving the potatoes there and maybe coming back for them later. A more reasonable person would have left the potatoes. But $3 for 20 pounds! I’d already come this far and I was going to finish what I started.

The final block of my journey involved crossing four lanes of heavy traffic, a serious hill, circumnavigating a portion of the sidewalk that was closed off for repairs and climbing the couple dozen steps to my front door. I would tell you how I did it, but I seem to have repressed the memory.

I came in and dropped the potatoes in the front hall and immediately set about ensuring that the hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of technology I had on my person was not completely water logged. By some miracle of Fatima, it was all fine and basically dry, but I dabbed at everything with paper towels anyway and set it out to air dry some more.

Finally, just before heading back out into the newly sunshiny day to take Colum to the school bus, I picked up the soaking-wet, 20-pound, paper sack of potatoes (for only $3!) to bring into the kitchen and it gave out. That’s a lot of discount potatoes all over the floor, let me tell you.

In other news, that Blogher swag just keeps on giving.

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All Natural, Vegan and Delicious

When I got home from the Blogher Conference I dumped all my swag onto the dining room table and there it stayed for a long time. Too long. I picked through it every now and then, using what I could, putting away others. And every time, there was this packet of two “totally natural,” vegan Ginger Snapper cookies that got pushed off to the side. Eventually, I got peckish enough to try the cookies.

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Giveaway: Passes to “My Babysitter’s A Vampire” Premiere

Would you like to join me at the premiere of the new Bruce McDonald-directed family film, My Babysitter’s A Vampire?

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My Baby the Yogi: Yoga For Babes

Feeling wiped out? It’s ok, because this week the workout is all about baby. Now, if I can only figure out a way to get my baby to gain the weight I want to lose. ~Rebecca

By Natalie Kerr

Image courtesy of upsand on flickr.

Yoga can be intimidating. I sometimes feel like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz shouting, “Sun Salutations, Warrior and Downward dog, OH MY!” The complex movements and the image of myself caught dangling in the poses is enough to strike fear in my heart. After I stop summoning the Cowardly Lion, however, and finally stop worrying about how my imperfect body will fall into perfect alignment, I feel awakened emotionally and physically by yoga.
Now picture your baby enjoying the same yoga experience. Did you just conjure up an image of your infant in downward dog pose? Don’t worry, baby yoga is simply about enhancing your baby’s pleasurable sensations through voice, eye contact and movement. Today I can safely say that my baby is a Yogi through constant practice of daily massage and flexibility techniques. And we always end our yoga workouts with relaxation to ensure baby knows that activity and relaxation complement each other. I have attached a sample baby yogi session so you and your baby can enjoy the gifts of the Yogi, too.

Continue reading “My Baby the Yogi: Yoga For Babes”
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Junction Arts Fest, Baby

Evening of Friday Sept. 10 to evening of Sunday Sept. 12. On Dundas St. W. between Indian Gove and St. Johns Pl (that’s Keele and Dundas-ish).

Be there or be square. The Junction Arts Festival is the best street fair our city has to offer. (Take that Taste of the Danforth and Beaches Jazz Festival it.) The street comes alive with all manner of performance and the shops and restaurants become impromptu art galleries.  There is music, dancing, sketch comedy and circus tricks. What’s more, though, is how this festival truly reflects our community. The young families come out to play with the hipster artists and the independent entrepreneurs and it’s a big, all-inclusive love fest.  And, so much fun! If there was ever anything worth the trip to the Junction, this is it.

And this year it looks bigger and better than ever before. Check out the A Child’s Experience schedule or just show up and make your way along Dundas St. W. and let it all soak in.