A couple of months ago, we decided to pull Ryan out of Mother's Day Out. We were happy with the program, but Ryan began asking if he could stay at home instead. When Hurricane Gustav hit, we had two weeks during which his school was closed, and while we dealt with a power outage and trees everywhere, we noticed a marked change in Ryan. He became suddenly much more content and centered. It was a subtle shift, but we couldn't help but question what we were doing, sending him to school at age 2 when he seemed to do so much better at home. So we pulled him out.
I am so happy about our decision. We are now living life at a much more organic pace. We have our daily routines and we are pretty self-sufficient. For the first few weeks, I attended several playgroups and felt like the Tasmanian Devil, with so much activity because I didn't trust that I could be home all day, day after day, with children without losing my mind.
Yet after a couple of weeks, I began to feel my confidence rise. Ryan, Charlotte and I entered into a daily dance that gave each of us a solid sense of what to do next. We became absorbed in learning opportunities right out the back door. We met neighbors and brewed coffee and formed natural friendships that don't involve driving across town for interaction.
Ryan and Charlotte are having a great time, and I am, too. From them, I gain insights that help my own creative growth. I am so happy that we decided to step away from what I thought we should do out of fear that I couldn't handle myself and my kids.
We are grooving. So much so that we have started to consider homeschooling so that we can continue this process. I never thought I had it in me. Turns out, this has been the catalyst that has opened me up to projects I never thought I could handle, such as writing a novel. Sometimes we create a matrix so that we feel held. That's okay, as long as you don't let the matrix cage you in.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Overwhelmed? One more guilt trip for moms.
Recently, this episode of Oprah aired about a woman who forgot her 2-year-old daughter in the back of her car. After 7 hours at work, a coworker came rushing in and told her that her baby was in the car. The little girl did not survive.
Oprah's angle on the topic is a bit puzzling. Her take is that this mother, like so many mothers, was just overwhelmed and multitasking so much that she forgot her daughter. To me, that sounds like a big yoke to put on all of us who are trying to do more than just focus on our children every waking moment. Oprah told her audience during this show that they should SLOW DOWN before they make a tragic mistake like this one. During the show, mother after mother lamented the times she wasn't absolutely, 100% in the moment with little 9 month old Charlie or 17-month-old Samantha "Something terrible could have happened," was the general consensus, "I let my mind wander and it is all my fault."
To which I say, Come on! This was one ridiculously out of it woman who actually talked about her children and still didn't remember that she had left one of them gasping for air in her car. As if motherhood weren't rife with guilt to begin with, now we have to feel badly if our mind wanders or if we want to check our Blackberry once in awhile.
I am all for being mindful, living in the moment, paying attention. (Heck, I used to race bicycles, which is a focus-or-die proposition.) But I think it is wrong of Oprah to condemn mothers who have more on their minds than what junior or little bit is doing this moment, to that moment, to that moment, to that moment to infinity.
Oprah's angle on the topic is a bit puzzling. Her take is that this mother, like so many mothers, was just overwhelmed and multitasking so much that she forgot her daughter. To me, that sounds like a big yoke to put on all of us who are trying to do more than just focus on our children every waking moment. Oprah told her audience during this show that they should SLOW DOWN before they make a tragic mistake like this one. During the show, mother after mother lamented the times she wasn't absolutely, 100% in the moment with little 9 month old Charlie or 17-month-old Samantha "Something terrible could have happened," was the general consensus, "I let my mind wander and it is all my fault."
To which I say, Come on! This was one ridiculously out of it woman who actually talked about her children and still didn't remember that she had left one of them gasping for air in her car. As if motherhood weren't rife with guilt to begin with, now we have to feel badly if our mind wanders or if we want to check our Blackberry once in awhile.
I am all for being mindful, living in the moment, paying attention. (Heck, I used to race bicycles, which is a focus-or-die proposition.) But I think it is wrong of Oprah to condemn mothers who have more on their minds than what junior or little bit is doing this moment, to that moment, to that moment, to that moment to infinity.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Bless me AP parents, for I have let my child cry it out
Something in my personality leads me to embrace movements so thoroughly, to inhabit what I am learning or thinking about so completely, that I sometimes end up apparently swinging from extreme to extreme. But it's not really like that, I promise. I am a very balanced individual who just happens to be open-minded--open-minded enough to want to try on opposing viewpoints, to really get behind the lens of people who I might question. And then to step back again.
Enter the biggest experiment of my life: Parenthood. Pregnant with Ryan, I went to the library looking for a book that would help me make heads or tails out of this process of raising up a kid. I had heard that "Babywise" was excellent, but somehow Dr. William Sears' "The Baby Book" fell into my hands. Now, mind you, when I was pregnant, I was pretty sure I would let my baby cry a bit, have him on a schedule, know when, you know, I was going to be able to take a shower or read a book. But, alas, the library didn't have any books about that. They had "The Baby Book," a super heavy book with drawings that look a lot like those featured in the Campmor catalog of happy mothers and sweet babies. In this book, Dr. Sears convinced me of the following:
* Wear your baby all the time! Even when you are making a salad! (See the illustration on page 291 of the happy mom with a non-grabbing toddler on her hip).
* Sleep with your baby! Then your toddler! Then your kids! (Page 339 has a picture of two school-aged kids on a large mattress at the foot of what I assume is mom and dad's bed).
* Breast is best, even if your cat is about to be put to sleep and you have to rush out the door before the anesthesia wears off so that he won't have to suffer more than necessary! (Actually, that's not in the book, but it did happen and when it did, I was extremely and inappropriately panicked that my child would be exposed to--gasp!--formula when my sister-in-law babysat for us while we went to pet the cat as he died and then bury him .)
Dr. Sears' tone never came across as flippant. His words were simple and reassuring. "If your baby will only nurse out of one breast, it's okay. Your breasts will probably never be the same after pregnancy anyway." I am not kidding. This is in the book.
In the pages of "The Baby Book" I learned about attachment parenting, which felt so darned good that I sold everyone around me on it, especially my husband. We both became true evangelists of this parenting style (Hubbie's words to me: "You were the one who read the books! You were the one who told me this was the best!").
Fast forward three years. I believe now that my complete embrace of this parentideology happened at the expense of my own state of mind, my health, the health of our family and maybe even the health of our children.
What changed my mind so radically? Last week we decided, with heavy hearts and fearful souls, to allow Charlotte to "cry it out" in her bed to go to sleep. Nobody resisted this more than I did. Ryan never cried it out. I actually told people that I thought those who did the "cry it out" or CIO as it's known among those who have learned the parent lingo, that we were selling our children out by allowing them to cry. I think my words were something to the effect of "We are putting our needs on our children's backs."
About a month ago as I was driving my son in circles at 1 in the afternoon for the 365th day in a row, I decided I'd had it. And then, again, being summoned from a deep sleep to pick up my daughter to nurse at 12 midnight after she'd gone to bed at 9:30, I realized that I needed to lay down some healthy boundaries.
Ryan was openminded. I simply told him that he needed to stay in bed and he would be learning how to fall asleep really well like a big boy. He took to it right away and now goes to sleep happily. Charlotte was another story. She nursed repeatedly throughout the night, and when she wasn't nursing, I was bumping her in our bed, waking her up, and then she had to nurse to go back to sleep. She was cranky, and so was I. She also had severe separation anxiety and wanted nothing to do with anyone but me.
After doing a load of research, I uncovered "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child," by Marc Weissbluth. His premise is that a well-rested family is a happier family. He advocates a pretty radical cry-it-out approach that took me some time to stomach, but made a lot of sense. Comfort your child, go through her usual routine, lay her in bed and walk out of the room. Do not return until it is early morning. So, armed with a strong sense that I had to stick to this or else I would never pull it off, one week ago, we cuddled and loved Charlotte, fed her, put her in her bed and shut the door. She wailed for two nights and then, on the third night, she slept all night. I mean it, 9 to 6, not a wimper, and such a happy baby the next morning.
Our family is now running on an abundance of joy. I feel a true sense of love for my children, where, before, I felt a strong bond, but not nearly as much joy. Charlotte has started hugging her daddy and happily exploring more than she was able to before. She is well rested and reflective. She is more at ease entertaining herself. Ryan has turned into a real people pleaser, which he already was by nature, but now he is doing so out of a good reserve of patience and energy.
Dr. Sears says his biggest fear is what happens when a mother ignores her crying baby. Does she lose her intuitive mother sense? Perhaps, if we're talking newborns. But eventually you've got to draw the line. Mothers are selves first, and it is only out of that self that they are able to give to others in a way that means much.
Okay, I've got to go delete myself from all of the attachment parenting online groups who would be appalled at what I have done.
Enter the biggest experiment of my life: Parenthood. Pregnant with Ryan, I went to the library looking for a book that would help me make heads or tails out of this process of raising up a kid. I had heard that "Babywise" was excellent, but somehow Dr. William Sears' "The Baby Book" fell into my hands. Now, mind you, when I was pregnant, I was pretty sure I would let my baby cry a bit, have him on a schedule, know when, you know, I was going to be able to take a shower or read a book. But, alas, the library didn't have any books about that. They had "The Baby Book," a super heavy book with drawings that look a lot like those featured in the Campmor catalog of happy mothers and sweet babies. In this book, Dr. Sears convinced me of the following:
* Wear your baby all the time! Even when you are making a salad! (See the illustration on page 291 of the happy mom with a non-grabbing toddler on her hip).
* Sleep with your baby! Then your toddler! Then your kids! (Page 339 has a picture of two school-aged kids on a large mattress at the foot of what I assume is mom and dad's bed).
* Breast is best, even if your cat is about to be put to sleep and you have to rush out the door before the anesthesia wears off so that he won't have to suffer more than necessary! (Actually, that's not in the book, but it did happen and when it did, I was extremely and inappropriately panicked that my child would be exposed to--gasp!--formula when my sister-in-law babysat for us while we went to pet the cat as he died and then bury him .)
Dr. Sears' tone never came across as flippant. His words were simple and reassuring. "If your baby will only nurse out of one breast, it's okay. Your breasts will probably never be the same after pregnancy anyway." I am not kidding. This is in the book.
In the pages of "The Baby Book" I learned about attachment parenting, which felt so darned good that I sold everyone around me on it, especially my husband. We both became true evangelists of this parenting style (Hubbie's words to me: "You were the one who read the books! You were the one who told me this was the best!").
Fast forward three years. I believe now that my complete embrace of this parentideology happened at the expense of my own state of mind, my health, the health of our family and maybe even the health of our children.
What changed my mind so radically? Last week we decided, with heavy hearts and fearful souls, to allow Charlotte to "cry it out" in her bed to go to sleep. Nobody resisted this more than I did. Ryan never cried it out. I actually told people that I thought those who did the "cry it out" or CIO as it's known among those who have learned the parent lingo, that we were selling our children out by allowing them to cry. I think my words were something to the effect of "We are putting our needs on our children's backs."
About a month ago as I was driving my son in circles at 1 in the afternoon for the 365th day in a row, I decided I'd had it. And then, again, being summoned from a deep sleep to pick up my daughter to nurse at 12 midnight after she'd gone to bed at 9:30, I realized that I needed to lay down some healthy boundaries.
Ryan was openminded. I simply told him that he needed to stay in bed and he would be learning how to fall asleep really well like a big boy. He took to it right away and now goes to sleep happily. Charlotte was another story. She nursed repeatedly throughout the night, and when she wasn't nursing, I was bumping her in our bed, waking her up, and then she had to nurse to go back to sleep. She was cranky, and so was I. She also had severe separation anxiety and wanted nothing to do with anyone but me.
After doing a load of research, I uncovered "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child," by Marc Weissbluth. His premise is that a well-rested family is a happier family. He advocates a pretty radical cry-it-out approach that took me some time to stomach, but made a lot of sense. Comfort your child, go through her usual routine, lay her in bed and walk out of the room. Do not return until it is early morning. So, armed with a strong sense that I had to stick to this or else I would never pull it off, one week ago, we cuddled and loved Charlotte, fed her, put her in her bed and shut the door. She wailed for two nights and then, on the third night, she slept all night. I mean it, 9 to 6, not a wimper, and such a happy baby the next morning.
Our family is now running on an abundance of joy. I feel a true sense of love for my children, where, before, I felt a strong bond, but not nearly as much joy. Charlotte has started hugging her daddy and happily exploring more than she was able to before. She is well rested and reflective. She is more at ease entertaining herself. Ryan has turned into a real people pleaser, which he already was by nature, but now he is doing so out of a good reserve of patience and energy.
Dr. Sears says his biggest fear is what happens when a mother ignores her crying baby. Does she lose her intuitive mother sense? Perhaps, if we're talking newborns. But eventually you've got to draw the line. Mothers are selves first, and it is only out of that self that they are able to give to others in a way that means much.
Okay, I've got to go delete myself from all of the attachment parenting online groups who would be appalled at what I have done.
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