We went to our 20-week ultrasound excited to see our little one for the first time. To see a head, and tiny hands and feet, a profile of a face, a beating heart. To peek between the little legs and see if we were expecting another son or a daughter.
Okay, I don't think Andrew cares as much to know that last part now. But I do. Every minute of my life I share with this little one. I get to know habits and quirks. But it's kind of maddening sometimes, spending so much time with someone about whom you know so little. I want to know as much as I can. I love the solidity of being able to address my baby as "he" or "she." I love having just that one anchor that allows me to visualize who they are and what life with them might be like.
But Creature 2 was uncooperative. Tiny legs kicked, kicked, kicked, never stopping (I knew that!). Tiny body flitted around my womb, changing position constantly, exploring every crevice and corner (I knew that, too, and what a difference from Peregrine!). But tiny legs remained firmly crossed. And, despite a nearly hour-long ultrasound, we left the hospital with no news about the gender of our child.
I couldn't wait. So I went to one of those places that Andrew calls "vanity ultrasounds" and my midwife calls "recreational." They had a service called Gender Check, so I booked that. And laid down on another ultrasound table and saw my little one again on a screen. And, though tiny legs still remained crossed, my recreational ultrasound tech had a more vested interest in checking between them. In fact, she saw it right away. And assured me that the little one inside me is 100% a girl.
I was overjoyed in that moment and can't imagine it any other way. I remember that moment from Peregrine, too. There's something about it that's like giving birth, in a way. All of a sudden you know something about that little person that you didn't know before. All of a sudden, a piece of your family takes shape.
I can't say I wanted one or the other. I think a lot of people assumed I really wanted a daughter because I already had a son, but it wasn't that way. I adore my little boy, and I would be happy with many more of them. Of course I want to buy fluffy pink things and do hair, but that's a really small want, all things considered. I really, truly would have been equally happy with either.
However, I'm terrified, and more than a little, of having a daughter. I don't really know why. Maybe some of it is all the consoling things people told me when I found out Peregrine was a boy. I didn't need consoling, but I got a fair bit of it. Boys are so much easier, mother/daughter relationships are so complicated, that sort of thing.
But here's the thing. Boys are so much easier. I connect well with little girls, so I teach girls well, but boys are easier to manage. Sure, they misbehave more, but there's no drama. They don't misread your words, and it's a lot harder to inadvertently hurt their feelings.
And there's so much more to being a girl. It's hard being a girl. Making the strange and awkward transition from girl to woman is so very complicated. Mother/daughter relationships are complicated. I don't worry much about Peregrine hating me someday. I'm terrified that my daughter will hate me someday.
I guess what it boils down to is this: I can love a child well. I can feed and clothe and play with and guide and teach. I feel pretty well equipped to do that. But this new little one in my womb? For her, I have to be a woman. I am the first, and most consistent, example of womanhood she will have. And it goes far deeper than sexuality (although that in itself is a terrifying topic). My daughter, my baby girl, will be a woman someday. And she will be looking at me to see what that means.
Friends, that's a deep calling. And one I don't know if I'm up to. I'm not sure if I've figured it out myself. How on earth will I teach it to another vulnerable, precious little human being?
So God give me grace and strength like I've never had before. God give me grace to love this new little one, this new female little one, in the way she needs to be loved. God give me grace to be her mother, with all the beauty and sorrow and unknowns and complication that entails.
Here's to you, my little Sylvia to be. God give us grace to walk this road together.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Peregrine quotes
I love that I have a child old enough to be actually quotable. Here are his latest gems.
I told him once or twice that he had had a really good nap. It was an offhand comment, but now he has become oddly preoccupied with making sure I think his nap was good. Anyhow, one day recently he had a not-so-good nap, and, after waking up from it, he asked me, as usual, "Good nap?" I said no, it hadn't been a very good nap. To which he responded, confused, "Dirty nap?"
Apparently dirty is the opposite of good. At least when it comes to naps.
Andrew brought home from his parents' house a little bag of old matchbox cars, and Peregrine has fallen in love. He hardly ever plays with any other toy now. He knows all these cars by name, and greets them every morning as if they were old friends. It's kind of wonderful, because he plays with them, independently, for a pretty long time. I don't get the attraction, or why my incredibly-short-attention-spanned child will play with the same toy for hours on end. He just drives them around, commenting on their various characteristics, looking for a "park place," and bringing them "home," which is pretty much any wall or ledge he can put them up against. And the other day, he was off in a corner, playing with them, and he picked one up and licked the bottom of it. Totally to himself, he then commented, "Hmm...yummy! Yummy yellow car!"
And finally, he has quit calling himself Mama. He's replaced it with Puma, which is infinitely cuter, and which Andrew and I now call him as well. Just imagine a little baby cougar. It's adorable. But any time he wants something, or wants to do something, he prefaces it with "Puma's." Puma's car? Puma's outside? Puma's boodey? My personal favorite is when he wants an avocado.
Puma's atado?
What a wonderful phrase.
It means no worries, for the rest of your days....
I told him once or twice that he had had a really good nap. It was an offhand comment, but now he has become oddly preoccupied with making sure I think his nap was good. Anyhow, one day recently he had a not-so-good nap, and, after waking up from it, he asked me, as usual, "Good nap?" I said no, it hadn't been a very good nap. To which he responded, confused, "Dirty nap?"
Apparently dirty is the opposite of good. At least when it comes to naps.
Andrew brought home from his parents' house a little bag of old matchbox cars, and Peregrine has fallen in love. He hardly ever plays with any other toy now. He knows all these cars by name, and greets them every morning as if they were old friends. It's kind of wonderful, because he plays with them, independently, for a pretty long time. I don't get the attraction, or why my incredibly-short-attention-spanned child will play with the same toy for hours on end. He just drives them around, commenting on their various characteristics, looking for a "park place," and bringing them "home," which is pretty much any wall or ledge he can put them up against. And the other day, he was off in a corner, playing with them, and he picked one up and licked the bottom of it. Totally to himself, he then commented, "Hmm...yummy! Yummy yellow car!"
And finally, he has quit calling himself Mama. He's replaced it with Puma, which is infinitely cuter, and which Andrew and I now call him as well. Just imagine a little baby cougar. It's adorable. But any time he wants something, or wants to do something, he prefaces it with "Puma's." Puma's car? Puma's outside? Puma's boodey? My personal favorite is when he wants an avocado.
Puma's atado?
What a wonderful phrase.
It means no worries, for the rest of your days....
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Being Whole
I belong to a local mom forum on Facebook, and every few months or so, someone will ask the question, "What is one thing you are doing as a parent that you swore you would never do?"
Reading the answers feels like sociology research, and I find it fascinating. First off, it's always a nice reminder that parenting as a reality is so much different from parenting in theory. Parenting an actual, real child (or several of them!) with an actual, real personality means doing things differently than you had once thought they ought to be done. It's always nice to know that everyone's been through this.
And I love seeing what answers come up. They run the gamut of parenting choices. Co-sleeping, sleep training, babywearing, breastfeeding, extended breastfeeding, supplementing with formula, not breastfeeding at all, epidural, out-of-hospital birth, different discipline styles, staying at work, quitting work. You name it, someone thought they would never do it and ended up doing it anyway. Either out of necessity, or change in beliefs. And sometimes they love the change, sometimes they hate it, sometimes they just accept it for what it is. Such is parenting. Such is life.
But there are always two that stand out and blow the rest out of the water: allowing junk food, and allowing television. To differing degrees of course. For some people, it's allowing these things at all. For others, it's allowing their worse versions (non-organic, for instance, or non-PBS). For still others, it's the frequency--weekly Pizza Hut night or daily TV--or the way they've become used as bribes for potty training or good behavior. But once someone admits they use these things, regularly or not, everyone else starts admitting it, too.
Which takes courage, in the parenting world. It's one thing to say you thought breastfeeding was gross until you first nursed your precious little one. It's another entirely to say that sometimes, you just want to shower alone so badly that you let your kids watch whatever cartoon keeps them out of the bathroom. It's easy to say your standards have changed for the better. It's harder to say that sometimes, you let your kids do things that don't quite sync with your standards.
But seeing these confessions is an important reminder that almost no one is the perfect parent we're all told we should be. Sure, some are more protective than others. I know families that don't own a TV at all and who cook most of their food from scratch. I know a lot of parents with extremely high standards when it comes to what their children consume; I know kids who have never had fast food, ever, even kids who have never had juice. But no matter whether we feed Annie's Organic Homegrown Bunny Snacks or plain old Costco fruit snacks, most of us have compromised with less-than-ideal food from time to time. No matter whether it's educational YouTube clips or run-of-the-mill Disney channel, video makes a darn good babysitter. And most of us have used it, in one way or the other. Also, no matter how sheltered any child is from media junk or food junk, they will run into it someday. I'm willing to bet there are very, very few adults (at least in the Western world) who have never consumed anything televised or processed in their entire lives. It's okay, as a parent, to let these things go, once in a blue moon, once in a while, or even regularly.
And yet, I struggle sometimes, because shouldn't we strive for excellence in parenting, just as we would in any line of work? "Everyone does it" is a pretty shoddy excuse for doing a poor job. Television is addictive. Junk food is gross. We are stewards of our children's bodies and minds, and we have an immense amount of power when it comes to choosing what we allow them to consume. Shouldn't we do it responsibly?
Plus, there seems to be a trend, albeit a very minor one, in some parenting communities, towards being proud of your parenting imperfections, sometimes oddly so. Hey, guess what my kids did all day? Ate chips and drank soda--in the living room--and watched trashy pre-teen TV! And then they fought and bickered and I yelled at them and then I let them play video games just so I could drink wine and watch my own trashy reality shows in peace! Take that, farmers' market shoppers who design crafts for your children! I get the confessional aspect, I really do. And I get being annoyed with the (much greater) trend toward an often-judgmental perfectionism in parenting. But shouldn't we want good for our children? Shouldn't that be our goal, even if it isn't always our reality?
But as I was thinking about this tension between standards and daily life, between staying realistic and honest and still striving for excellence, I had a thought. Maybe excellence is the wrong goal. Maybe what we should be working toward is wholeness.
Because when it comes down to it, TV and junk food, even in organic, educational form, are not necessarily good. But stress and strife and burnout are far less good. And I don't mean that at all flippantly. Choosing a to let your kids watch TV because you need a moment's peace is far better than insisting on doing organic crafts and snapping at your kids the whole time you're doing them. (It's also better than beating yourself up because you can't be patient and do the organic craft like That One Creative Perfect Mama.) Going to McDonald's as a family because you need to get out of the house is far better than staying in the house and being angry at each other. Choosing to take care of yourself--by showering, getting dressed, cooking good meals, relaxing, whatever it is you need to stay sane and healthy--is important, even if an hour of TV is what allows that to happen.
Not that working toward wholeness means neglecting health entirely. If I want a happy, healthy family, I won't choose fast food for every meal simply because it's convenient. I won't just consume large portions of chocolate every time I find myself alone (ahem...still working on that one). I won't just turn on YouTube all the time because it's a guaranteed attention-getter that doesn't require my actually playing with my child. But I'll keep things in perspective, too. Some days I will turn on the TV and snuggle with my baby because quality time is important, and that's the only quality time I have the mental energy for. Some days I'll eat that extra piece of chocolate, because that's what it takes to be patient instead of annoyed during unexplained nap-resistance. Some days I'll desperately want a long, hot shower, or the freedom to cook a meal alone, or even something stupid like a new nail color or another chapter of a book. And I'll choose those things, along with whatever TV or computer game that entails for Peregrine, because choosing them will mean that I will be more present, more patient, more kind, more whole. I don't ever want to rely on these things to make me a good person, a good parent. But they are tools, and I will use them when they help.
And sometimes, I'll throw it all to the wind. Sometimes we'll have ice-cream dates (surprise ice cream dates) because they're fun, and they communicate love. Sometimes we'll throw parties, and there will be junk food (lots of it!) involved, and there will be memories made, memories that I hope will be just as treasured as the memories of berry picking and nature walks and other wholesome hippie ways to kill time and celebrate life.
Because, if I may paraphrase Saint Paul, all the organic food and imaginative play and brain-enhancing activities are useless without love. If I don't love my kids well, these other things profit me nothing. Sometimes, Monster Trucks on YouTube, snuggled up with a blanket and a mommy and a bottle of juice, is truly good in a way that simply not consuming media and sugar could never be. Sometimes, a special date to Dairy Queen is better than a home-cooked meal of organic kale. In different ways, but better, nonetheless.
So let's do good for our children and ourselves. Let's take care of our bodies and minds, and the bodies and minds that have been entrusted to us. But let's remember that sometimes, it's not black and white. Sometimes, being whole is so much more important than being right.
And I love seeing what answers come up. They run the gamut of parenting choices. Co-sleeping, sleep training, babywearing, breastfeeding, extended breastfeeding, supplementing with formula, not breastfeeding at all, epidural, out-of-hospital birth, different discipline styles, staying at work, quitting work. You name it, someone thought they would never do it and ended up doing it anyway. Either out of necessity, or change in beliefs. And sometimes they love the change, sometimes they hate it, sometimes they just accept it for what it is. Such is parenting. Such is life.
But there are always two that stand out and blow the rest out of the water: allowing junk food, and allowing television. To differing degrees of course. For some people, it's allowing these things at all. For others, it's allowing their worse versions (non-organic, for instance, or non-PBS). For still others, it's the frequency--weekly Pizza Hut night or daily TV--or the way they've become used as bribes for potty training or good behavior. But once someone admits they use these things, regularly or not, everyone else starts admitting it, too.
Which takes courage, in the parenting world. It's one thing to say you thought breastfeeding was gross until you first nursed your precious little one. It's another entirely to say that sometimes, you just want to shower alone so badly that you let your kids watch whatever cartoon keeps them out of the bathroom. It's easy to say your standards have changed for the better. It's harder to say that sometimes, you let your kids do things that don't quite sync with your standards.
But seeing these confessions is an important reminder that almost no one is the perfect parent we're all told we should be. Sure, some are more protective than others. I know families that don't own a TV at all and who cook most of their food from scratch. I know a lot of parents with extremely high standards when it comes to what their children consume; I know kids who have never had fast food, ever, even kids who have never had juice. But no matter whether we feed Annie's Organic Homegrown Bunny Snacks or plain old Costco fruit snacks, most of us have compromised with less-than-ideal food from time to time. No matter whether it's educational YouTube clips or run-of-the-mill Disney channel, video makes a darn good babysitter. And most of us have used it, in one way or the other. Also, no matter how sheltered any child is from media junk or food junk, they will run into it someday. I'm willing to bet there are very, very few adults (at least in the Western world) who have never consumed anything televised or processed in their entire lives. It's okay, as a parent, to let these things go, once in a blue moon, once in a while, or even regularly.
And yet, I struggle sometimes, because shouldn't we strive for excellence in parenting, just as we would in any line of work? "Everyone does it" is a pretty shoddy excuse for doing a poor job. Television is addictive. Junk food is gross. We are stewards of our children's bodies and minds, and we have an immense amount of power when it comes to choosing what we allow them to consume. Shouldn't we do it responsibly?
Plus, there seems to be a trend, albeit a very minor one, in some parenting communities, towards being proud of your parenting imperfections, sometimes oddly so. Hey, guess what my kids did all day? Ate chips and drank soda--in the living room--and watched trashy pre-teen TV! And then they fought and bickered and I yelled at them and then I let them play video games just so I could drink wine and watch my own trashy reality shows in peace! Take that, farmers' market shoppers who design crafts for your children! I get the confessional aspect, I really do. And I get being annoyed with the (much greater) trend toward an often-judgmental perfectionism in parenting. But shouldn't we want good for our children? Shouldn't that be our goal, even if it isn't always our reality?
But as I was thinking about this tension between standards and daily life, between staying realistic and honest and still striving for excellence, I had a thought. Maybe excellence is the wrong goal. Maybe what we should be working toward is wholeness.
Because when it comes down to it, TV and junk food, even in organic, educational form, are not necessarily good. But stress and strife and burnout are far less good. And I don't mean that at all flippantly. Choosing a to let your kids watch TV because you need a moment's peace is far better than insisting on doing organic crafts and snapping at your kids the whole time you're doing them. (It's also better than beating yourself up because you can't be patient and do the organic craft like That One Creative Perfect Mama.) Going to McDonald's as a family because you need to get out of the house is far better than staying in the house and being angry at each other. Choosing to take care of yourself--by showering, getting dressed, cooking good meals, relaxing, whatever it is you need to stay sane and healthy--is important, even if an hour of TV is what allows that to happen.
Not that working toward wholeness means neglecting health entirely. If I want a happy, healthy family, I won't choose fast food for every meal simply because it's convenient. I won't just consume large portions of chocolate every time I find myself alone (ahem...still working on that one). I won't just turn on YouTube all the time because it's a guaranteed attention-getter that doesn't require my actually playing with my child. But I'll keep things in perspective, too. Some days I will turn on the TV and snuggle with my baby because quality time is important, and that's the only quality time I have the mental energy for. Some days I'll eat that extra piece of chocolate, because that's what it takes to be patient instead of annoyed during unexplained nap-resistance. Some days I'll desperately want a long, hot shower, or the freedom to cook a meal alone, or even something stupid like a new nail color or another chapter of a book. And I'll choose those things, along with whatever TV or computer game that entails for Peregrine, because choosing them will mean that I will be more present, more patient, more kind, more whole. I don't ever want to rely on these things to make me a good person, a good parent. But they are tools, and I will use them when they help.
And sometimes, I'll throw it all to the wind. Sometimes we'll have ice-cream dates (surprise ice cream dates) because they're fun, and they communicate love. Sometimes we'll throw parties, and there will be junk food (lots of it!) involved, and there will be memories made, memories that I hope will be just as treasured as the memories of berry picking and nature walks and other wholesome hippie ways to kill time and celebrate life.
Because, if I may paraphrase Saint Paul, all the organic food and imaginative play and brain-enhancing activities are useless without love. If I don't love my kids well, these other things profit me nothing. Sometimes, Monster Trucks on YouTube, snuggled up with a blanket and a mommy and a bottle of juice, is truly good in a way that simply not consuming media and sugar could never be. Sometimes, a special date to Dairy Queen is better than a home-cooked meal of organic kale. In different ways, but better, nonetheless.
So let's do good for our children and ourselves. Let's take care of our bodies and minds, and the bodies and minds that have been entrusted to us. But let's remember that sometimes, it's not black and white. Sometimes, being whole is so much more important than being right.
 |
| Outside a greasy diner with a very beloved great-grandmother. Guess which one matters infinitely much more? |
Thursday, March 21, 2013
I'm going to miss these...
Yeah, I know he has to grow up and start talking normally. And I wouldn't want it any other way. But still, there are some words I'm going to miss hearing. He's learning so fast, they are here today and gone tomorrow. Some of them, in fact, were here yesterday and gone today.
Meep-mow=cement mixer. Kid knows his vehicles.
Ha-coc-coop=helicopter. Helicopters are Peregrine's current consuming obsession. I showed him one video--one--of a man in a helicopter. Now he wants, so badly, to ride in one. It's really the first time I've seen him want something he saw on a screen.
Hmeam=cream. Ice cream, whipped cream, diaper rash cream. All of which he loves. And, he learned how to say cream today. With a nice crisp cr sound. I will really miss hmeam.
Hmama=Peregrine. Because that totally makes sense. I always wondered how he would pronounce his difficult-to-say name. Got to admit, I didn't see hmama coming.
Dee=pacifier. But we all say dee now. Baby 2 will probably not know the real name.
Lello-dee=technically, it means yellow pacifier. Idiomatically, it means, "hey, I found a yellow object!"
Nioaw=said very fast, it means no, more, milk, and meow. Imagine how confusing it is when you ask him if he wants more milk. He's getting better, though.
Ooooo!=light. And he's totally started saying light now. But I'll miss hearing that sound every time a light comes on.
Hadee=thank you or dishwasher. (Actually, this makes sense, seeing as how we always tell him thank you when he hands us stuff from the dishwasher). I thought I heard an attempt at a genuine thank you tonight. And a tiny part of me died inside. I'll miss hadee. He says it so genuinely, too, even restaurant employees know exactly what he means.
Mee-mee=excuse me. Said very innocently and meekly.
Butt=buttons. Said very loudly. BUTT!!!
Beebee=seatbelt. Or carseat.
Boodeedee=Aunty Liz. It's pretty catchy. Even I call her that now. Probably because I answer questions about her whereabouts several (hundred) times a day.
Yaya=holding hands. It's a good word. I use it. I predict this one stays for awhile.
Haht-tahp=pasta. Kind of sounds like hot tub.
Mop=crawl. This one is entirely my invention, a relic from the days when Peregrine scooted everywhere on his belly, picking up dirt like a mop. But I taught it to him because it's so funny to hear him say it. And to know he thinks the concept of "mopping downstairs" is perfectly normal. Sorry, kid.
And boodey, I don't know what I'll do when he quits saying boodey. He's already saying water (or wa-la) more and more. But water bottles are still boodeys, fortunately. And hopefully will be for a long, long time.
Also, he's experimenting with putting two words together and says them all, no matter what combination, with the same inflection--up!down.
No!hat. Hi!Daddy. Yellow!Jeep. Like!cars. Find!Owls.
I'll miss that, too.
Meep-mow=cement mixer. Kid knows his vehicles.
Ha-coc-coop=helicopter. Helicopters are Peregrine's current consuming obsession. I showed him one video--one--of a man in a helicopter. Now he wants, so badly, to ride in one. It's really the first time I've seen him want something he saw on a screen.
Hmeam=cream. Ice cream, whipped cream, diaper rash cream. All of which he loves. And, he learned how to say cream today. With a nice crisp cr sound. I will really miss hmeam.
Hmama=Peregrine. Because that totally makes sense. I always wondered how he would pronounce his difficult-to-say name. Got to admit, I didn't see hmama coming.
Dee=pacifier. But we all say dee now. Baby 2 will probably not know the real name.
Lello-dee=technically, it means yellow pacifier. Idiomatically, it means, "hey, I found a yellow object!"
Nioaw=said very fast, it means no, more, milk, and meow. Imagine how confusing it is when you ask him if he wants more milk. He's getting better, though.
Ooooo!=light. And he's totally started saying light now. But I'll miss hearing that sound every time a light comes on.
Hadee=thank you or dishwasher. (Actually, this makes sense, seeing as how we always tell him thank you when he hands us stuff from the dishwasher). I thought I heard an attempt at a genuine thank you tonight. And a tiny part of me died inside. I'll miss hadee. He says it so genuinely, too, even restaurant employees know exactly what he means.
Mee-mee=excuse me. Said very innocently and meekly.
Butt=buttons. Said very loudly. BUTT!!!
Beebee=seatbelt. Or carseat.
Boodeedee=Aunty Liz. It's pretty catchy. Even I call her that now. Probably because I answer questions about her whereabouts several (hundred) times a day.
Yaya=holding hands. It's a good word. I use it. I predict this one stays for awhile.
Haht-tahp=pasta. Kind of sounds like hot tub.
Mop=crawl. This one is entirely my invention, a relic from the days when Peregrine scooted everywhere on his belly, picking up dirt like a mop. But I taught it to him because it's so funny to hear him say it. And to know he thinks the concept of "mopping downstairs" is perfectly normal. Sorry, kid.
And boodey, I don't know what I'll do when he quits saying boodey. He's already saying water (or wa-la) more and more. But water bottles are still boodeys, fortunately. And hopefully will be for a long, long time.
Also, he's experimenting with putting two words together and says them all, no matter what combination, with the same inflection--up!down.
No!hat. Hi!Daddy. Yellow!Jeep. Like!cars. Find!Owls.
I'll miss that, too.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Where did my baby go?
A year and a half ago, I had this:
He was tiny and helpless. He still slept all the time. He ate all the rest of the time. I could swaddle him, thoroughly, in tiny receiving blankets. He howled like a baby wolf in his sleep.
A year ago, I had this:
He couldn't crawl or even scoot. He had to sit in the boppy. I still carried him constantly. He was still up every two hours (every two freaking hours) all night long, ravenously hungry each time. He could still barely tolerate being in the stroller because it didn't move fast enough. If I was very lucky, he might not scream bloody murder for the entire duration of every single car ride.
But this is the one that gets me.
Six months ago--six short, short months ago--I had this:
This was a baby. I still fed him every meal. He couldn't walk at all, and he had barely learned to crawl properly. He had a pretty vast vocabulary, but in all other ways, he was an infant. He functioned like an infant. He thought like an infant.
And now? Now I have this.
Suddenly, I find myself in possession of a little boy. Not an infant, a full-on child.
I was talking with my neighbor today, the whole they-grow-up-so-fast conversation. So very cliche, and so very true. But I told her, I thought this last six months seemed somehow faster than anything else. This startling, lightning-fast transition from my baby to little unique individual person who has less and less to do with me.
I don't feed him at all anymore. I cut up his food, and that's about it.
No more screaming in the car. No more cramps in my shoulder from holding his pacifier in his mouth or feeding him a bottle in the back seat. Now he faces the same way as I do, and we have honest-to-goodness conversations in the car. Granted, most of them are about buses on the road (or the disturbing lack of buses on the road), but still, we're talking together. My baby and me. Two-way conversations that include his original ideas.
He talks up a storm now, putting words together, throwing his thoughts and observations (some mind-bogglingly accurate, some hilariously not accurate) out into the world. If he wants something, he asks for it. No more crying and guessing (well, at least most of the time). He talks about everything. And I talk to him. And he understands, and gives me feedback.
He notices when the world doesn't go his way. And reacts to it in typical toddler fashion, throwing himself dramatically on the floor and wailing. And half the time, his tantrums are there to prove a point. To make us notice him. No more innocent instinctive baby-reactions, easily distracted.
He's developed an intensely aggressive streak, which is no surprise. He always had it, I think. He's just figured out he can use it. And he has so much energy. So much. Intense, passionate, little-boy energy that I don't think I ever had, even as a toddler myself. He slams into things, throws things, runs everywhere. Probably everything in my house will be broken by the time he's 10. And can I say, I am so grateful he has a father to play with him. I can read, I can snuggle, I can go on walks, I can play trucks and slides and basketball. But wrestling? Not my forte. My attempts at full-body contact just don't cut it for him. Daddy's wrestling is much, much more satisfying.
He's starting to get imaginary play, especially related to babies. He adores babies, which bodes well for the future, at least I hope. And while he's not particularly snuggly or gentle, he is incredibly unselfish and generous when it comes to taking care of little ones. He is always offering my belly a pacifier, a drink of his beloved "boodey," a story, a truck, a blanket. The other day, my neighbor was watching him, along with her 11-month-old. She left them alone together, playing independently, and came back to find a large collection of toys in her little one's lap, all lovingly collected by Peregrine. Any time he hears a baby crying, he starts worriedly suggesting all the things the baby might need--pacifier, bottle, nursing, a nap. And if it's in his power to fix, he will try. With great dedication and great joy.
It's so amazing, watching him grow up and grow into himself. I just can't believe how fast it's happened. Seriously. A few short months ago I called him Baby Mop because he scooted everywhere on his belly and picked up dirt like a mop. And now? He's not a mop anymore, and he's not a baby anymore either.
He was tiny and helpless. He still slept all the time. He ate all the rest of the time. I could swaddle him, thoroughly, in tiny receiving blankets. He howled like a baby wolf in his sleep.
A year ago, I had this:
He couldn't crawl or even scoot. He had to sit in the boppy. I still carried him constantly. He was still up every two hours (every two freaking hours) all night long, ravenously hungry each time. He could still barely tolerate being in the stroller because it didn't move fast enough. If I was very lucky, he might not scream bloody murder for the entire duration of every single car ride.
But this is the one that gets me.
Six months ago--six short, short months ago--I had this:
This was a baby. I still fed him every meal. He couldn't walk at all, and he had barely learned to crawl properly. He had a pretty vast vocabulary, but in all other ways, he was an infant. He functioned like an infant. He thought like an infant.
And now? Now I have this.
Suddenly, I find myself in possession of a little boy. Not an infant, a full-on child.
I was talking with my neighbor today, the whole they-grow-up-so-fast conversation. So very cliche, and so very true. But I told her, I thought this last six months seemed somehow faster than anything else. This startling, lightning-fast transition from my baby to little unique individual person who has less and less to do with me.
I don't feed him at all anymore. I cut up his food, and that's about it.
No more screaming in the car. No more cramps in my shoulder from holding his pacifier in his mouth or feeding him a bottle in the back seat. Now he faces the same way as I do, and we have honest-to-goodness conversations in the car. Granted, most of them are about buses on the road (or the disturbing lack of buses on the road), but still, we're talking together. My baby and me. Two-way conversations that include his original ideas.
He talks up a storm now, putting words together, throwing his thoughts and observations (some mind-bogglingly accurate, some hilariously not accurate) out into the world. If he wants something, he asks for it. No more crying and guessing (well, at least most of the time). He talks about everything. And I talk to him. And he understands, and gives me feedback.
He notices when the world doesn't go his way. And reacts to it in typical toddler fashion, throwing himself dramatically on the floor and wailing. And half the time, his tantrums are there to prove a point. To make us notice him. No more innocent instinctive baby-reactions, easily distracted.
He's developed an intensely aggressive streak, which is no surprise. He always had it, I think. He's just figured out he can use it. And he has so much energy. So much. Intense, passionate, little-boy energy that I don't think I ever had, even as a toddler myself. He slams into things, throws things, runs everywhere. Probably everything in my house will be broken by the time he's 10. And can I say, I am so grateful he has a father to play with him. I can read, I can snuggle, I can go on walks, I can play trucks and slides and basketball. But wrestling? Not my forte. My attempts at full-body contact just don't cut it for him. Daddy's wrestling is much, much more satisfying.
He's starting to get imaginary play, especially related to babies. He adores babies, which bodes well for the future, at least I hope. And while he's not particularly snuggly or gentle, he is incredibly unselfish and generous when it comes to taking care of little ones. He is always offering my belly a pacifier, a drink of his beloved "boodey," a story, a truck, a blanket. The other day, my neighbor was watching him, along with her 11-month-old. She left them alone together, playing independently, and came back to find a large collection of toys in her little one's lap, all lovingly collected by Peregrine. Any time he hears a baby crying, he starts worriedly suggesting all the things the baby might need--pacifier, bottle, nursing, a nap. And if it's in his power to fix, he will try. With great dedication and great joy.
It's so amazing, watching him grow up and grow into himself. I just can't believe how fast it's happened. Seriously. A few short months ago I called him Baby Mop because he scooted everywhere on his belly and picked up dirt like a mop. And now? He's not a mop anymore, and he's not a baby anymore either.
 |
| Except for the ubiquitous pacifier. |
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Family Centered
I participated in an online survey once where I was asked the question, "Would you consider your life (as a parent) to be parent-centered or child-centered?"
The survey was pretty open-ended and I don't remember what its purpose was. However, I remember thinking at the time that the "right" answer was probably supposed to be child-centered. Parent-centered sounds old-fashioned, controlling, cold. Selfish even. Maybe it's just the part of the world I live in. But I think most of us know that if parenting revolves around the parent, things tend to fall apart. We want to love our children well. We want to love them better than we love ourselves.
But while parenting shouldn't be about the parent, I don't think it should be about the child, either. The child doesn't exist in a vacuum. The child exists in a family.
I've always been irrationally annoyed when people other than my child call me mama. I know that most of the time, the intent is empathetic at best and innocent at worst. But here's the deal--I am a lot more than just a mama. To Peregrine, sure, that's what I am. That's how he knows me. But to other people, I'm a wife, a sister, a daughter, an aunt, a teacher, a friend. I'm Rachel. Not just one aspect of Rachel, one specific relationship Rachel occupies. And this is coming from a very maternal person. My parents frequently called me "little mama" as a child, because of my constant mothering: dolls, stuffed animals, little sisters, pet ducks, imaginary children, even pine branches and wood blocks (true story--the pine branch's name was Heidi and the block's was Baby Jesus). I have always had a thriving maternal instinct, and I absolutely love being a mama. But it's not the only thing I am.
 |
| Somewhere there exists a picture of me nursing "Baby Jesus." Let's just go with documentation of me interacting with a real child. |
When you add a new person, irreversibly, to your family, you don't lose what you were before. You don't start with a blank slate. When you get married, you don't erase everything that came before him. You change it and grow it and add to it, sure. But you don't throw the old away. And when you become a mother, things change and grow and morph again. Sometimes the change is magical and exhilarating, sometimes it's messy and complicated. But it's a change, an addition; not a completely new start. The baby isn't suddenly the only thing that matters. The baby becomes a member of something bigger than just parenting. The baby becomes part of your family.
I think assuming there are two options in life as a parent--parent-centered and child-centered--misses the point. It's not about Peregrine. It's not about me, or even Andrew and me. It's about all of us--the unique little family created by Andrew, Peregrine, and me together. And in about six months, it will all change again. We'll add another person to that mix, and it will be about that family, which will be very much the same in some ways, and very much different in others. We'll change. Our parenting will change. But we'll still be us. We'll still be family.
Andrew and I have talked about this a lot as since we've been parents. We don't always make decisions based on what's best for Peregrine. Something in me feels awful admitting that, and I think it shows how guilty we can feel stepping outside the role of mama mama mama all the time. Of course, he's the little dependent one, and his needs, when they are genuine needs, come first. When I am sick and he is sick, I take care of him. When we're both hungry, he eats first. When we're both tired, I put him to bed before going to bed myself. Regardless of how I feel or what I want, he is the child and I am the adult and it is my sacred responsibility to care for him, always. But sometimes it isn't black and white. Sometimes needs and wants and preferences are all mixed up. Sometimes my needs are bigger than his, in the moment. Sometimes our wants conflict. Sometimes Andrew and I need something together, or Andrew and Peregrine, or Peregrine and me. Sometimes we have to compromise on things.
When I finally came up with an answer to the survey question, I said I hoped my life was neither parent-centered nor child-centered, but family-centered. And that is what I hope. It's who I want to be as a parent and a person. I won't be raising Peregrine forever. I won't be mama-all-the-time forever. But, by God's grace, our family will still be there. Changed, yes. Grown, yes. But still us.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Book Review: Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child
I don't read parenting books very often. I don't necessarily have anything against them; I just tend to learn more from other peoples' stories and experiences. But every now and then, I come upon a resource that proves itself invaluable.
I first borrowed Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, by Marc Weissbluth, from my sister-in-law, who had been singing its praises for months before Peregrine had any sleep issues. When I finally borrowed it from her, she warned me that I would be wanting my own copy before too long. She was right. I almost never buy books, because I almost never read the same book twice. But this one? I reference it constantly.
I recommend this book to so many of my friends, and not because I agree with everything in it. But it has helped me so much. I really wish I had read it before having a child (and that's something I rarely ever say!). Looking back, I'm not sure I would have done that much differently in terms of the way I handled Peregrine's sleep habits in his early infancy. But, had I read this book, I would have understood a lot more about baby sleep. There was just so much I didn't know. I truly thought Peregrine would just sleep when he was tired, and be awake when he wasn't. Little did I know my child. By simply understanding typical waking/sleeping cycles better, and tweaking my routines accordingly, I was able to help Peregrine sleep hours longer than he had been before. He is a much more peaceful child for being able to sleep well.
So here's my more-in-depth review of it. I'll focus less on my personal opinions/experiences with Weissbluth's methods and beliefs, and focus more and how it functions as a parenting tool on the whole.
What I love:
1.) Lots of information on typical baby sleep patterns, and how to use these natural patterns to guide a baby's routine. I'll admit, this book has a lot of words to plow through. Although there is plenty of practical advice, you have to wade through a fair amount of facts and information as well. Perhaps, as a more experienced parent, I would have found this frustrating. But, as a new parent, there was so much I didn't know. And I found half the information reassuring (it's normal for a young infant's nap patterns to be sporadic!), and the other half very eye-opening (you mean crying is a late sign of tiredness?) Just having this store of knowledge was immensely helpful to me. And putting a baby to sleep is so, so very much easier when you are following their natural patterns and know how to recognize signs of readiness for sleep.
2.) Emphasis on sleep cycles instead of rigid schedules. While Weissbluth does advocate scheduling babies' sleep, he gives general ideas and guidelines instead of specific clock-times. And he does a good job of outlining a parent-directed nap and bedtime schedule, while still taking babies' needs and day-to-day quirks into consideration. He will provide a general daytime-schedule idea for, say, a six-month-old, and then explain how you might adapt the schedule if the baby seems unusually tired, or refuses to sleep, or takes a catnap in the car at an odd time. He places a lot of emphasis on understanding a baby's natural rhythms and finding the right "window" in which to encourage sleep. The schedule examples he gives are not blueprints to be followed, but ideas of when most babies of a certain age have these "windows" open.
3.) Understanding that different families have different needs and preferences. For the most part, Weissbluth grasps extremely well the concept that families are very diverse. His suggestions often include adaptations for breast vs. bottle fed babies, or babies in a crib vs. babies in a family bed. Also, while Weissbluth definitely approves of (and advocates) "crying it out" as part of sleep training, he fully acknowledges that not all parents, and not all babies, are okay with that. He gives alternative approaches, and lists the advantages and disadvantages of each. And on the whole, he is immensely respectful of the variety of choices parents make surrounding baby sleep.
4.) A generally gentle, well-explained argument for actively promoting healthy sleep habits, while still understanding the needs and biology of infants. Weissbluth is pro-sleep-training, and there is no way to read this book and not read that. But, for the most part, it is very graciously presented. I've read a lot of baby-scheduling and sleep-training advice where I find the arguments caustic and just plain untrue (seriously? I'm setting my kid up to "run the house" someday because his nap times are flexible?), but Weissbluth's arguments make sense and are, on the whole, very compassionate and well-thought-out. He speaks to both extremes of the baby-sleep-philosophy continuum, reminding parents both that good sleep is a need and it's okay to actively manage our babies' sleep habits, and also that babies have unique needs and personalities and we can't expect them to simply adapt to a prearranged rigid schedule.
Cautions/what I didn't love:
1.) The obvious dogmatism of a parenting book, with some (I think) odd emphases. Any time you read a parenting book, you have to read it with a grain of salt. People write because they're passionate about topics. Although this book is less dogmatic than others I've read, it still has its moments. And although Weissbluth is quite good at adapting his general principles for different situations, there are a few he doesn't budge on, and I'm not sure why. Early bedtimes, for instance. I get that children need a lot of sleep. And that if your child will wake up at 6 every morning, no matter what, you should prioritize getting her to bed early. But he's adamantly against late bedtimes, even when they also correspond with late wakeup times. Even with his explanations, I still find it hard to believe that a child who sleeps 9-9 is sleeping far less healthily than a child who sleeps 7-7.
2.) A bit of a sarcastic/dismissive attitude toward attachment parenting. While Weissbluth generally handles most attachment-parenting-type concerns (i.e. will allowing my child to cry during the night cause him not to trust me?) with a lot of gentleness, he can seem a bit rude about the philosophy in general. I get it, he's writing a sleep training book, and attachment parenting philosophy is typically against sleep training. The debate is nothing new. But, I can imagine that some of his comments could be very off-putting to people who follow attachment parenting philosophy and are looking for sleep answers. However, for the record, my sister-in-law loves this book. And she is a pretty diehard attachment parent. You take what works for you, and leave the rest.
3.) An assumption that your life can, and should, revolve around your child's naps and bedtimes. Obviously, any parent's life does, to an extent. But I think Weissbluth carries it a bit far. Sleep is extremely important for anyone's well-being (child or adult!) and it is worth making it a priority. But I think he runs the risk of setting people up for unnecessary guilt because they have to get out of the house sometimes, or because they have older children who want to be involved in sports or other activities. Balance and health are always good things. (And what balance and health look like will of course be dependent on the family in question).
I would recommend this book to:
Pretty much every new parent I know. Or anyone whose baby, toddler, or older child is struggling with sleeping well. It's easy to read, it's immensely practical, and it has so many adaptations for so many different situations. There's not many books I give almost-blanket recommendation to. But this is one of them.
I would not recommend this book to:
I had to think long and hard about this one. Basically, there are two categories of people I wouldn't recommend this to. If you already have a child who sleeps very well, I can see this book just causing unnecessary stress (my kid sleeps 9 to 9 and always has and all of a sudden this is a problem!). No need to read this book (or any sleep book, for that matter!) if your child sleeps well and you are happy with the sleep system your family has in place. Also, if you really can't stomach reading about cry-it-out at all (and some people can't, and that's totally fine) and are adamantly against the idea of sleep training, honestly, it probably isn't worth it. There are other books that address specific sleep issues (always needing to nurse to sleep, for instance) and advocate a never-let-cry approach. Probably better to read one of those.
Happy sleeping, everyone! Because, in any sleep arrangement, schedule, or lack thereof, the most important thing, as Weissbluth would say, is a well-rested family.
I first borrowed Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, by Marc Weissbluth, from my sister-in-law, who had been singing its praises for months before Peregrine had any sleep issues. When I finally borrowed it from her, she warned me that I would be wanting my own copy before too long. She was right. I almost never buy books, because I almost never read the same book twice. But this one? I reference it constantly.
I recommend this book to so many of my friends, and not because I agree with everything in it. But it has helped me so much. I really wish I had read it before having a child (and that's something I rarely ever say!). Looking back, I'm not sure I would have done that much differently in terms of the way I handled Peregrine's sleep habits in his early infancy. But, had I read this book, I would have understood a lot more about baby sleep. There was just so much I didn't know. I truly thought Peregrine would just sleep when he was tired, and be awake when he wasn't. Little did I know my child. By simply understanding typical waking/sleeping cycles better, and tweaking my routines accordingly, I was able to help Peregrine sleep hours longer than he had been before. He is a much more peaceful child for being able to sleep well.
So here's my more-in-depth review of it. I'll focus less on my personal opinions/experiences with Weissbluth's methods and beliefs, and focus more and how it functions as a parenting tool on the whole.
What I love:
1.) Lots of information on typical baby sleep patterns, and how to use these natural patterns to guide a baby's routine. I'll admit, this book has a lot of words to plow through. Although there is plenty of practical advice, you have to wade through a fair amount of facts and information as well. Perhaps, as a more experienced parent, I would have found this frustrating. But, as a new parent, there was so much I didn't know. And I found half the information reassuring (it's normal for a young infant's nap patterns to be sporadic!), and the other half very eye-opening (you mean crying is a late sign of tiredness?) Just having this store of knowledge was immensely helpful to me. And putting a baby to sleep is so, so very much easier when you are following their natural patterns and know how to recognize signs of readiness for sleep.
2.) Emphasis on sleep cycles instead of rigid schedules. While Weissbluth does advocate scheduling babies' sleep, he gives general ideas and guidelines instead of specific clock-times. And he does a good job of outlining a parent-directed nap and bedtime schedule, while still taking babies' needs and day-to-day quirks into consideration. He will provide a general daytime-schedule idea for, say, a six-month-old, and then explain how you might adapt the schedule if the baby seems unusually tired, or refuses to sleep, or takes a catnap in the car at an odd time. He places a lot of emphasis on understanding a baby's natural rhythms and finding the right "window" in which to encourage sleep. The schedule examples he gives are not blueprints to be followed, but ideas of when most babies of a certain age have these "windows" open.
3.) Understanding that different families have different needs and preferences. For the most part, Weissbluth grasps extremely well the concept that families are very diverse. His suggestions often include adaptations for breast vs. bottle fed babies, or babies in a crib vs. babies in a family bed. Also, while Weissbluth definitely approves of (and advocates) "crying it out" as part of sleep training, he fully acknowledges that not all parents, and not all babies, are okay with that. He gives alternative approaches, and lists the advantages and disadvantages of each. And on the whole, he is immensely respectful of the variety of choices parents make surrounding baby sleep.
4.) A generally gentle, well-explained argument for actively promoting healthy sleep habits, while still understanding the needs and biology of infants. Weissbluth is pro-sleep-training, and there is no way to read this book and not read that. But, for the most part, it is very graciously presented. I've read a lot of baby-scheduling and sleep-training advice where I find the arguments caustic and just plain untrue (seriously? I'm setting my kid up to "run the house" someday because his nap times are flexible?), but Weissbluth's arguments make sense and are, on the whole, very compassionate and well-thought-out. He speaks to both extremes of the baby-sleep-philosophy continuum, reminding parents both that good sleep is a need and it's okay to actively manage our babies' sleep habits, and also that babies have unique needs and personalities and we can't expect them to simply adapt to a prearranged rigid schedule.
Cautions/what I didn't love:
1.) The obvious dogmatism of a parenting book, with some (I think) odd emphases. Any time you read a parenting book, you have to read it with a grain of salt. People write because they're passionate about topics. Although this book is less dogmatic than others I've read, it still has its moments. And although Weissbluth is quite good at adapting his general principles for different situations, there are a few he doesn't budge on, and I'm not sure why. Early bedtimes, for instance. I get that children need a lot of sleep. And that if your child will wake up at 6 every morning, no matter what, you should prioritize getting her to bed early. But he's adamantly against late bedtimes, even when they also correspond with late wakeup times. Even with his explanations, I still find it hard to believe that a child who sleeps 9-9 is sleeping far less healthily than a child who sleeps 7-7.
2.) A bit of a sarcastic/dismissive attitude toward attachment parenting. While Weissbluth generally handles most attachment-parenting-type concerns (i.e. will allowing my child to cry during the night cause him not to trust me?) with a lot of gentleness, he can seem a bit rude about the philosophy in general. I get it, he's writing a sleep training book, and attachment parenting philosophy is typically against sleep training. The debate is nothing new. But, I can imagine that some of his comments could be very off-putting to people who follow attachment parenting philosophy and are looking for sleep answers. However, for the record, my sister-in-law loves this book. And she is a pretty diehard attachment parent. You take what works for you, and leave the rest.
3.) An assumption that your life can, and should, revolve around your child's naps and bedtimes. Obviously, any parent's life does, to an extent. But I think Weissbluth carries it a bit far. Sleep is extremely important for anyone's well-being (child or adult!) and it is worth making it a priority. But I think he runs the risk of setting people up for unnecessary guilt because they have to get out of the house sometimes, or because they have older children who want to be involved in sports or other activities. Balance and health are always good things. (And what balance and health look like will of course be dependent on the family in question).
I would recommend this book to:
Pretty much every new parent I know. Or anyone whose baby, toddler, or older child is struggling with sleeping well. It's easy to read, it's immensely practical, and it has so many adaptations for so many different situations. There's not many books I give almost-blanket recommendation to. But this is one of them.
I would not recommend this book to:
I had to think long and hard about this one. Basically, there are two categories of people I wouldn't recommend this to. If you already have a child who sleeps very well, I can see this book just causing unnecessary stress (my kid sleeps 9 to 9 and always has and all of a sudden this is a problem!). No need to read this book (or any sleep book, for that matter!) if your child sleeps well and you are happy with the sleep system your family has in place. Also, if you really can't stomach reading about cry-it-out at all (and some people can't, and that's totally fine) and are adamantly against the idea of sleep training, honestly, it probably isn't worth it. There are other books that address specific sleep issues (always needing to nurse to sleep, for instance) and advocate a never-let-cry approach. Probably better to read one of those.
Happy sleeping, everyone! Because, in any sleep arrangement, schedule, or lack thereof, the most important thing, as Weissbluth would say, is a well-rested family.
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