
A Note from the Editor: As Lissa and I discussed her writing a new blog post for Mother's Day this year we realized that it felt much bigger and divinely timed to re-post this Mother's Day post from last year. It was so impactful, and we have so many new readers to Owning Pink, that we don't want anyone to miss this message and, for those who've already read it, perhaps you'll get even more out of it this time around.
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I'd like to ask when it became mandated by society that the most obvious of details will be ignored/and or denied by the masses until experts step in and slap us in the face? Because doctors are now reporting a new type of eating disorder in children attributed to aggressive anti-obesity campaigns.
According to this article, Australian doctors are now treating an onslaught of healthy children being driven to starvation. Victoria's three leading pediatric services are treating children at the upper end of the medically-accepted healthy weight range who have lost up to a third of their body weight so they can stay thin.
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There’s a reason I don’t watch the news. And it has a lot to do with not putting myself in a bad mood while eating my Cheerios when news sources report that 12-year-olds are getting bikini waxes.
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If you’re a working mother like me, you may have noticed a few raised eyebrows from time to time. I was only five weeks postpartum when I had to go back to my work as an OB/GYN physician, and you’d have thought I had murdered my infant the way some women looked at me. (“How dare she? How selfish of her. But just wait - that child will be totally messed up one day.”)
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I grew up listening to stories about relatives pretending to bite my chunky baby thighs because they looked like drumsticks and my mother's constant reminders that she weighed 80 pounds when she got pregnant with me. As an eight-year-old I stood five feet tall and wore my mother's jeans because it was cheaper than taking me shopping in the women's petite section. I was binge eating while hiding in the pantry before I knew that the term even existed. And I was a full-fledged bulimic by the time I was 15.
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Mother’s Day is today, which is a day to celebrate, right? We take Mommies out to brunch and give them flowers. Kids hand-craft macaroni necklaces to adorn Mommy in her Sunday dress. We kiss, hug, send cards, and jam up the phone lines as we remember our own mothers. In a perfect world, Mother’s Day would be a day we could all celebrate.
But, as some of you may know, we don’t live in a perfect world. For some, Mother’s Day is a day people want to dig a hole and crawl in. It’s a day they wish they could fast forward through. It’s a day that makes them cringe as they watch all the happy people bustle about wearing white orchids and smiling with happy children carrying balloons.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, so let me start by sending out a great big whopping Happy Mother’s Day to those of you who are celebrating your fabulous mothers and whooping it up with your fabulous children. I’m sending you all my love and sending out three big WOOTs in hopes that you have a wonderful day.
But as much as I love you and wish you well, today’s post is not for you (no offense!).
As an OB/GYN, I know Mother’s Day can be a tough day for many women -- those who have been unable to conceive, lost pregnancies, had abortions, given their baby up for adoption, chosen not to reproduce, or wound up having that decision made by default. And if you’ve inherited children through marriage, you may feel sort of second fiddle to the biological Mommies, even if you’re the one making lunch for six kids every day while biological Mommy lives on her boyfriend’s yacht.
If you’re one of those women -- and if you are, you’re SO not alone -- Mother’s Day brunches, kids making hand-woven pot holders, and over-the-top flower displays at the local grocery store may leave you feeling…well…left out. Or maybe even teary.
But I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to bear children to be a Mommy and you don’t have to be a Mommy to make the huge difference in the life of a child.

Last weekend, an essay appeared in The Wall Street Journal by Amy Chua titled, Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior -- an excerpt from her recently published book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Penguin Press 2011). The piece caused quite a dialogue in the halls of Owning Pink when blogger Suzanne Bouffard brought it to our attention, and we knew we had to bring the conversation to the mainstage. "Can a regimen of no playdates, no TV, no computer games and hours of music practice create happy kids? And what happens when they fight back?" Check out our Roundtable on the topic as well!
This piece was constantly flying across my radar this week, but it took me awhile to read it, between chasing my 11 month old around our snowed-in house and working at my developmental psychologist job. I feel compelled to respond both as a parent and as a researcher – and then as someone trying to find the balance between the two.
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We have not been able to stop talking about The Wall Street Journal essay by Amy Chua, Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior -- an excerpt from her recently published book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Penguin Press 2011). "Can a regimen of no playdates, no TV, no computer games and hours of music practice create happy kids? And what happens when they fight back?" Check out Suzzane's fabulous post on the topic as well, and join the conversation!
When I read Amy Chua’s article, my blood started to boil. Now given, my five year-old daughter goes to a Waldorf school, which is arguably the diametrically opposed opposite of growing up with a Chinese mother, so I'm probably not her target audience. Kids in my daughter's school are nurtured, hugged, coddled even. But they also love school and work hard to earn the faith, love and trust they are given unconditionally by their teachers and their parents. Will the Waldorf method work for my child? I don't know. I know a lot of Western kids grow up entitled, spoiled, lazy, fat, and unfocused. And I know Chinese kids tend to be better at math, science, and music. But at what price?
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