The other day, we were headed home down the block. Without directing him, River turned in on the path to our house and headed up the front steps. It was so cool to think that he knew which house was his. Today, coming home from the opposite direction, he did the same thing.
Each little evidence of brain wiring is an exciting movement – from the first time he answered my question by bringing me a shirt when I asked where his clothes were, to his first correct verbal response, to various signs of memory. But for some reason, knowing where his house is really strikes me. At only 18 months, he already has both a sense of direction and of home. That makes me happy.
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Thursday, June 25, 2009
Can you like a friend but not their baby?
Recently, a dear friend visited from far away. She came together with her baby and spent several days with us. It had been years since I saw this friend and I was glad to see her, as well as to meet her baby. But as one day passed into the next, my friend and I caught up, we did lots of fun things, I didn’t find myself bonding with her baby.
The baby was skinny, squirmy, physically unstable and full of complaints. She’d smile occasionally, but never belly laughed, never seemed truly happy. She didn’t inspire an instinct to cuddle or to comfort. She screamed so much that even River got annoyed, screaming back at her as though to say “shut up!” She’d scream at him, as though to say, “Don’t tell me what to do!” and this wonderful symphony continued in the car for a good hour.
I felt bad that I didn’t feel a bond with this baby. I realized that perhaps it’s the wonder of nature that cause parents to bond with kids that others can’t feel the connection to. Mark thought that perhaps I was put off that my friend didn’t seem to bond with River – who probably seemed huge, massive and stocky in comparison with her baby.
On the last day, my friend put the baby in the pack and play, right in front of me, as I was trying to get some work done. She needed some time to pack. Very soon, the baby, who demanded constant attention, began to whine, then to poop, then to cry. With other babies, I might have picked them up, played with them, interacted with them. But with this one, I really didn’t have the inclination, terrible though that might be.
Perhaps, I recalled, this was why some of my friends didn’t rush to pick River up, to hold him, to spend time with him when he was young. Of course I expected them to because I thought he was wonderful. Perhaps the parent is unique in thinking their child exquisite while the rest of the world looks on dispassionately.
Have you been in a similar situation, where you love a friend, but feel no connection to their baby? How did you handle it?
The baby was skinny, squirmy, physically unstable and full of complaints. She’d smile occasionally, but never belly laughed, never seemed truly happy. She didn’t inspire an instinct to cuddle or to comfort. She screamed so much that even River got annoyed, screaming back at her as though to say “shut up!” She’d scream at him, as though to say, “Don’t tell me what to do!” and this wonderful symphony continued in the car for a good hour.
I felt bad that I didn’t feel a bond with this baby. I realized that perhaps it’s the wonder of nature that cause parents to bond with kids that others can’t feel the connection to. Mark thought that perhaps I was put off that my friend didn’t seem to bond with River – who probably seemed huge, massive and stocky in comparison with her baby.
On the last day, my friend put the baby in the pack and play, right in front of me, as I was trying to get some work done. She needed some time to pack. Very soon, the baby, who demanded constant attention, began to whine, then to poop, then to cry. With other babies, I might have picked them up, played with them, interacted with them. But with this one, I really didn’t have the inclination, terrible though that might be.
Perhaps, I recalled, this was why some of my friends didn’t rush to pick River up, to hold him, to spend time with him when he was young. Of course I expected them to because I thought he was wonderful. Perhaps the parent is unique in thinking their child exquisite while the rest of the world looks on dispassionately.
Have you been in a similar situation, where you love a friend, but feel no connection to their baby? How did you handle it?
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Yikes, the toddler has appeared
I read in the helpful manual to boys, It’s a Boy, that 18-21 months is a common period for boys to declare their independence and separate themselves from their parents. I’d been seeing this independence for a while. But to date, it had been expressed in a friendly, loving way. He wanted a little more freedom, I granted it to him, he was happy, sweet, and kind.
But in the past week or so, since the MMR, a new phase has appeared. Now, he’s distinctly unhappy to hear no. He throws a tantrum a good 2-3 times a day – crying, arching his back, falling to the ground. One day he was so upset when I put him back in the stroller that he writhed until he fell out through the bottom of the stroller, hitting his head on the stroller. I had never strapped him in before because there was no need to. Until he started throwing tantrums.
This stage is even harder on Mark. Since River is currently showing a strong preference for mom (except when I’m not around, then he’s fine with Mark), Mark gets the tantrums without the love.
Parenting is a fascinating journey. Just when it becomes easy, just when you think you’ve got it down, they enter a new stage and everyone has to adjust again. It keeps us on our toes.
But in the past week or so, since the MMR, a new phase has appeared. Now, he’s distinctly unhappy to hear no. He throws a tantrum a good 2-3 times a day – crying, arching his back, falling to the ground. One day he was so upset when I put him back in the stroller that he writhed until he fell out through the bottom of the stroller, hitting his head on the stroller. I had never strapped him in before because there was no need to. Until he started throwing tantrums.
This stage is even harder on Mark. Since River is currently showing a strong preference for mom (except when I’m not around, then he’s fine with Mark), Mark gets the tantrums without the love.
Parenting is a fascinating journey. Just when it becomes easy, just when you think you’ve got it down, they enter a new stage and everyone has to adjust again. It keeps us on our toes.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The MMR
The result of the MMR was:
• A red rash that looks like measles on his knee and down the leg. This lasted more than a week.
• A reddened face
• Soreness, tiredness, crankiness.
• This may well be correlation, rather than causation, but just after the MMR began his first real angry temper tantrums.
After seeing the effects, it’s clear to me that it’s a powerful shot. I think even Mark wishes he could go back and separate the shots. I kind of wished my concerns would be proven wrong and that he would have no effects from the shot. Since that didn’t happen, I do regret that we got it, especially combined with tetanus (which is a painful one too). I’m glad we waited a little longer than usual. With a future child, I would try to separate it. Or at the very minimum, would not combine it with another shot.
• A red rash that looks like measles on his knee and down the leg. This lasted more than a week.
• A reddened face
• Soreness, tiredness, crankiness.
• This may well be correlation, rather than causation, but just after the MMR began his first real angry temper tantrums.
After seeing the effects, it’s clear to me that it’s a powerful shot. I think even Mark wishes he could go back and separate the shots. I kind of wished my concerns would be proven wrong and that he would have no effects from the shot. Since that didn’t happen, I do regret that we got it, especially combined with tetanus (which is a painful one too). I’m glad we waited a little longer than usual. With a future child, I would try to separate it. Or at the very minimum, would not combine it with another shot.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Friends are having second babies already
Today I received a birth announcement from a pre-natal yoga buddy who had her first child around the time River was born. She had her second child this week.
She told me about her pregnancy at River’s first birthday party, as did another friend with a child of the same age (she’ll give birth next month). A third friend, whose son is one month older than River, is also expecting. At the time that I found out about the first two pregnancies, I felt a slight quiver of jealousy, as well as being happy for them. There was a short period around the end of breastfeeding where I was willing to take a risk. I knew that getting pregnant then wouldn’t be ideal, but I figured we’d managed.
Now I want to thank the stars that I didn’t risk too much. I can’t imagine having a second child right now. I can’t imagine going through pregnancy and childbirth again anytime soon. Things are now just becoming fun and easy. I’m enjoying it. My body is mine again. I have no desire to either suffer the physical discomforts of pregnancy, nor to deny River the individual attention I can give him at this exciting stage of discovery in his life.
I’d like more children in the future, but it’s more of a distant wish. Right now, there is no immediate urge, even when I see baby pictures. It’s nice to be present within myself, for Mark and for River. I like the balance I now have.
Did you experience a longing for another child? How long after you had your first?
She told me about her pregnancy at River’s first birthday party, as did another friend with a child of the same age (she’ll give birth next month). A third friend, whose son is one month older than River, is also expecting. At the time that I found out about the first two pregnancies, I felt a slight quiver of jealousy, as well as being happy for them. There was a short period around the end of breastfeeding where I was willing to take a risk. I knew that getting pregnant then wouldn’t be ideal, but I figured we’d managed.
Now I want to thank the stars that I didn’t risk too much. I can’t imagine having a second child right now. I can’t imagine going through pregnancy and childbirth again anytime soon. Things are now just becoming fun and easy. I’m enjoying it. My body is mine again. I have no desire to either suffer the physical discomforts of pregnancy, nor to deny River the individual attention I can give him at this exciting stage of discovery in his life.
I’d like more children in the future, but it’s more of a distant wish. Right now, there is no immediate urge, even when I see baby pictures. It’s nice to be present within myself, for Mark and for River. I like the balance I now have.
Did you experience a longing for another child? How long after you had your first?
MMR
Ever since River’s miserable two-month checkup, when he got five vaccines at once and had the worst day of his life, we’ve been getting only one shot at a time. I’ve read the evidence citing that MMRs are not linked with autism. However, I still wanted to separate it. I’m still concerned about possible immune system overload and I figured since we have the time and the money, we might as well play it safe.
Since River is now a strapping little toddler, I thought we could move up from one shot per visit to two. So when Mark took him for his 18-month checkup today, I suggested he get two shots, but only one live one.
I thought he might get measles as the live one. Instead, poor River came home having receiving the MMR (!!) and tetanus. Mark said it was the worst experience of his life having to hold River’s arms and legs down on the table, having to see the tears flow and the look of betrayal in his eyes that dad would allow such pain not only once, but twice. I’m sad that he had, in effect, four vaccines in one day. He’s sleeping them off right now and I’m crossing my fingers that there will be no effect.
Since River is now a strapping little toddler, I thought we could move up from one shot per visit to two. So when Mark took him for his 18-month checkup today, I suggested he get two shots, but only one live one.
I thought he might get measles as the live one. Instead, poor River came home having receiving the MMR (!!) and tetanus. Mark said it was the worst experience of his life having to hold River’s arms and legs down on the table, having to see the tears flow and the look of betrayal in his eyes that dad would allow such pain not only once, but twice. I’m sad that he had, in effect, four vaccines in one day. He’s sleeping them off right now and I’m crossing my fingers that there will be no effect.
Monday, June 15, 2009
A surprise find
In digging through the freezer, I came across a surprising discovery – six bags of frozen breastmilk. The sensation was one of weirdness. That is my body fluid in the freezer, I thought. How strange.
I remembered back to the days of collecting and storing it, of stressing about it, of managing my life around it. It seems like another era entirely.
Overall, I’m glad I did it. When we saw other babies develop crawling, walking and speech skills more quickly than River, we thought he was going to be of average intelligence. But lately, we’re seeing signs that perhaps he might be smart after all (he has very high levels of empathy). If breastmilk does in fact add up to five IQ points, I’m now thinking those will come in handy.
At the same time, I’m so glad it’s over. It’s so nice to not have liquid leaking from my breasts. It’s so nice to not have to attach myself to a machine. It’s great that anyone can meet River’s need for nutrition and I no longer need to plan my life around it.
However, remembering how much work it took to get that stuff out, I wasn’t about to throw it away. Who knows how old it was – a year? More? Less? I figured he’d reject it if he didn’t like it. But, like usual, he didn’t react at all. Sustenance is sustenance and he doesn’t seem to care whether it comes from a breast or a cow or a can.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Just another reminder to look beyond our borders
Quoted from the book Free-Range Kids:
“What we think of as normal child rearing is not the way a lot of other countries do it. And activities we consider far “too risky” for our kids do not make the smallest blip on other countries’ risk radar screens. Even the ones rich enough to have radar screens….
In the rest of the world, most children do walk to school, and they start at age five or six or seven. Their parents do not accompany them. By age ten or sometimes even before that, kids may board a public bus to get to school, and no one looks at them askance. The other riders know that children are capable of getting around, and they don’t consider this a rogue activity.”
“What we think of as normal child rearing is not the way a lot of other countries do it. And activities we consider far “too risky” for our kids do not make the smallest blip on other countries’ risk radar screens. Even the ones rich enough to have radar screens….
In the rest of the world, most children do walk to school, and they start at age five or six or seven. Their parents do not accompany them. By age ten or sometimes even before that, kids may board a public bus to get to school, and no one looks at them askance. The other riders know that children are capable of getting around, and they don’t consider this a rogue activity.”
How free should kids be?
I just finished reading an interesting, and thought-provoking book, called Free-Range Kids by Lenore Skenazy. The book is subtitled “Giving our Children the Freedom we had without going nuts with worry” and the author’s name is sub-titled “America’s Worst Mom.”
Her point, in the easy-to-read and funny book, is that crime rates have decreased drastically from the time of our childhoods, that only 150 children are kidnapped by strangers per year in America and only about one third of those are killed. That is still horrible. No child should have to go through that. But when there are millions of kids in our country, the question is: do we want to restrict their freedom, independence and exploration in order to avoid an event that is very improbably to begin with?
My gut feeling is no, I do not want to restrict River’s independence. I think I’m already on the far end of liberalness in letting him explore. I get my share of disapproving looks from people who think I’m not hovering enough. Like the librarian yesterday who said the poles marking the line for checking out books “are extremely heavy and could cause him serious injury.” When I didn’t react by scooping up River away from this terrible danger, but instead continued to check out my books, she stood there and guarded the poles until we left. Of course, I don’t want a heavy object falling on my baby. But really, if the odds of serious injury are so high, then why would such a dangerous object be put in the path of every patron checking out a book? My friend from Germany became very nervous when I allowed River to walk in front of me on a sidewalk that was on a busy road. Yes, he admitted, the odds of River rushing out into the road weren’t very high. But if he did, it would be certain death. I was ready to grab him at any sign of veering off the sidewalk and into the road. Since he wasn’t making such moves, I thought he had the right to walk and explore as we did.
I have a very strong confidence in River’s abilities. I taught him not to put earplugs in his mouth, he already has a good sense of right and wrong (uh-oh is a frequent phrase he says when he sees something he knows is wrong or problematic), he knows to not eat flowers, he can understand things I’m telling him. Mark says my confidence level is too high. When I read about the tragic story of Mike Tyson’s 4-year-old dying on the home treadmill, the article mentioned that some parents have an artificially high sense of their children’s abilities.
Oh no, I thought. River is going to die or get hurt and it’s going to be my fault. Then I read this book and I felt better. Yes, he may have some injuries along the way (although he hasn’t had a single one to date), but that is how he will learn. In exchange for those potential injuries, he will develop confidence, independence and pride in his abilities. I will also have a more sane life by not worrying about every single thing he does.
I dipped back into the book It’s a Boy to read about the 18 month to three year stage. That author made a similar point. He says that at this age, young boys need to have a certain amount of freedom from their parents. They see their parents as a stable source of support to return to when they need refilling. So River can walk away in another direction and I should let him explore as he wants to when feasible. But I remain in the area and when he needs a hug or a hand, he can run right back to me for more fuel. I like that role and I’m enjoying this time. I’m still needed, but not so much. The pressure is reduced and I get the joy of watching him find the thrill of an inclined driveway, the physics of an old twig that breaks, the happiness of jumping in a puddle-filled pothole.
Her point, in the easy-to-read and funny book, is that crime rates have decreased drastically from the time of our childhoods, that only 150 children are kidnapped by strangers per year in America and only about one third of those are killed. That is still horrible. No child should have to go through that. But when there are millions of kids in our country, the question is: do we want to restrict their freedom, independence and exploration in order to avoid an event that is very improbably to begin with?
My gut feeling is no, I do not want to restrict River’s independence. I think I’m already on the far end of liberalness in letting him explore. I get my share of disapproving looks from people who think I’m not hovering enough. Like the librarian yesterday who said the poles marking the line for checking out books “are extremely heavy and could cause him serious injury.” When I didn’t react by scooping up River away from this terrible danger, but instead continued to check out my books, she stood there and guarded the poles until we left. Of course, I don’t want a heavy object falling on my baby. But really, if the odds of serious injury are so high, then why would such a dangerous object be put in the path of every patron checking out a book? My friend from Germany became very nervous when I allowed River to walk in front of me on a sidewalk that was on a busy road. Yes, he admitted, the odds of River rushing out into the road weren’t very high. But if he did, it would be certain death. I was ready to grab him at any sign of veering off the sidewalk and into the road. Since he wasn’t making such moves, I thought he had the right to walk and explore as we did.
I have a very strong confidence in River’s abilities. I taught him not to put earplugs in his mouth, he already has a good sense of right and wrong (uh-oh is a frequent phrase he says when he sees something he knows is wrong or problematic), he knows to not eat flowers, he can understand things I’m telling him. Mark says my confidence level is too high. When I read about the tragic story of Mike Tyson’s 4-year-old dying on the home treadmill, the article mentioned that some parents have an artificially high sense of their children’s abilities.
Oh no, I thought. River is going to die or get hurt and it’s going to be my fault. Then I read this book and I felt better. Yes, he may have some injuries along the way (although he hasn’t had a single one to date), but that is how he will learn. In exchange for those potential injuries, he will develop confidence, independence and pride in his abilities. I will also have a more sane life by not worrying about every single thing he does.
I dipped back into the book It’s a Boy to read about the 18 month to three year stage. That author made a similar point. He says that at this age, young boys need to have a certain amount of freedom from their parents. They see their parents as a stable source of support to return to when they need refilling. So River can walk away in another direction and I should let him explore as he wants to when feasible. But I remain in the area and when he needs a hug or a hand, he can run right back to me for more fuel. I like that role and I’m enjoying this time. I’m still needed, but not so much. The pressure is reduced and I get the joy of watching him find the thrill of an inclined driveway, the physics of an old twig that breaks, the happiness of jumping in a puddle-filled pothole.
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