rivka: (sex ed)
[personal profile] rivka
Did I mention that Michael and I are co-teaching OWL this spring?

This weekend is the first overnight. The kids arrived at the church at six to have dinner, do a session, and play games. Tomorrow we'll do two more sessions and wrap up at 3:30pm. Michael and I will have childcare for the regular weekly sessions, but we're doing the overnight by swapping off. So Alex, Colin, and I went to church to have dinner with the OWL kids, and then I brought my children home and Michael stayed to do the evening session with our co-teacher Laura. Tomorrow morning, he'll stay home with the kids and I'll go do a session with Laura. In the afternoon, he'll bring the kids down to church and he and I will trade off watching them and being in the session. It's complicated, but it works for us.

All this is by way of explanation so that I can now make this remark:

If your teenager can look at a woman who is nursing and ask "Is that your baby?" ...your kid is probably overdue for OWL.

Just sayin'.

(Also, hooray! I forgot that I have an OWL icon.)

Date: 2010-01-09 03:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rivka.livejournal.com
I am enjoying imagining the shocked posts to the I Saw Your Nanny (http://isawyournanny.blogspot.com/) blog.

But beyond that, that sucks. I'm sorry.
Edited Date: 2010-01-09 03:36 am (UTC)

Date: 2010-01-09 03:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] nex0s.livejournal.com
*shrug*

Honestly, I've been expecting it. It's not just white women - black women who *are* nannies have assumed I am my son's nanny. When I was growing up, most people assumed I was adopted by my mother. She always set them straight. It's interesting to watch and see the reactions though.

What I think is weirdest, is that he's not really that light. We are basically the same color, but since I have kinky hair, I'm percieved as being darker than I am. Very weird.

N.

Date: 2010-01-09 05:07 am (UTC)
kuangning: (Default)
From: [personal profile] kuangning
Y'know, I had just the same experiences with my children. "Where are his Mom and Dad?" I'd get asked while out with Logan. "Oh, she's so pretty! Whose is she?" some woman wanted to know when I took Ari to my post-natal checkup. And the shocked looks when I'd breastfeed were not all about my shawl-covered breasts. Eventually, I learned to just headshake and keep going, but it was really hurtful at first.

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