Parenting the anxious child

I found this an interesting and well-researched article. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/04/magazine/04anxiety-t.html

Some of the more interesting points:

-Temperament as a baby tends to remain constant through life, especially for those at the extreme

-The 15-20% of babies who react strongly to novel people or situations are more likely to grow up to be anxious.

-An important factor in controlling anxiety is having something to divert one’s attention – such as an interesting hobby or job

-Those who are anxious and smart might turn out to be better employees

-There doesn’t seem to be clear evidence on how to best parent an anxious child – whether to push greater independence or to accept and acknowledge their fears.

Argh!

Yesterday was one of those Argh! days – the kind I had early on when I lacked sleep, the kind I had in the spring and summer when River didn’t nap and the kind I’d been happily without for a while as River was napping up to twice a day and able to happily amuse himself.

1. He is down to one nap, which is in the afternoon, when the babysitter is here.
2. He has been especially anxious, cranky and needy this week.
3. He is highly mobile now and able to get into everything, which means I have to be on increased guard for his safety and I’m constantly having to clean up after him.

A typical morning play time – River pulls all the groceries I bought the previous night out of the bag and scatters them on the kitchen floor. Then he gets into the garbage can and pulls things out piece by piece, smearing the mango skin on the floor after waving it around a bit. Next he opens a cabinet and pulls out all the baking goods, examining the bags of flour, sugar and corn starch in the process. Then he races up the stairs, heads to his toiletry shelf, and proceeds to pull each one of those items off of the shelf.

Today I handled it better because I asked Grace to come earlier and I knew my shift was limited. But she didn’t come until 1 yesterday and I was counting down the minutes to her arrival like I did during River’s first weeks. I spent too much time dealing with poop, pee, food, whines and pick-ups and I couldn’t handle any more. Please take him! I wanted to call out. I need a break.

I have great respect for the people who can take care of children all day. But yesterday reminded me that I’m not one of them. I’d go batty.

Even as I recognized I wasn’t enjoying it, I felt bad for feeling that way. Just after a disgusting poop or a tiring pick-up, he’d so something so incredibly cute (like imitating Mark in being a monster, raising his hands and growling as he leaned in the most baby-like menacing way he could into me) that I’d wonder how I could tire of being with this little creature.

In the evening, when Mirena’s mom, Carmen, came to pick her up, I told her about my frustration. I was happy to hear that she understood, doubly so now that she’s pregnant with her second and not feeling well.

“You’re lucky in that River is usually so calm,” she said. “But Mirena has always been a demanding baby. By the time David gets home, I pass her off to him and tell him she’s all his. I can’t deal with any more. David has more patience than I do.”

David is also struggling right now since he’s working on his doctorate as well as working part-time and putting in substantial baby-care hours, even more now that Carmen is pregnant again. “If I can read 10 pages while I’m watching her, I’m lucky,” he said. His tired face told me that he was at a similar point of feeling he’d had enough.

It made me feel better to hear someone else admit that even though they might love their baby to pieces, at times they need a break. For me, knowing I fully control at least a part of almost every day, knowing that there will be a period in which I can do something that doesn’t involve taking care of someone else, helps me immensely in getting through the times when the care seems overwhelming.

How do you get through the rough patches?

Thunderstorm

We’ve had two severe thunderstorms in the last 12 hours – the types where lightening rains down and colors the sky white, where the cracks and crashes are so loud and thunderous they feel they are coming through the walls.

The first storm was in the middle of the night. I feared River would wake up and I waited to hear his cry. When I didn’t, I was still tempted to wake him and bring him into the safety of our bed, to bring our family together to face the danger. I didn’t do it because I was the only one awake and it was only me that was feeling afraid.

This afternoon a similarly sharp storm appeared – strong enough that I unplugged the computers and turned off most electrical devices. Our babysitter stood with River by the open doorway, watching the rain pour down and the lightening flash and crackle. Yes, it was severe she agreed, and yes, the lightening felt very close by. But I was clearly more uncomfortable than she was. I wanted to protect my baby somehow, but didn’t know how.

These fairly mild events make me think back to our flight last month on a small plane from David to Panama City, Panama. We weren’t supposed to be going to Panama City. But our flight from David to San Jose was canceled and they rerouted us through Panama City.

It was rainy season in Panama and we got caught in a thunderstorm. I saw bunches of clouds outside the window, an endless puff of grey. Lightening crackled and brightened the view from the windows. I tried not to think about it until our plane dropped – straight down and suddenly. Then it did it again. By the time it happened a third time, passengers were screaming and I even let out a sound of alarm.

All the while, I held a sleeping baby in my arms. I tried not to pass my nervousness on to him, while I simultaneously gripped him as tightly as I could without waking him. All of a sudden I realized that without any restraint, he’d be the first to fly up and hit and the ceiling. I realized that in such moments, I want nothing more than to be with the people I love. At the same time, I would have removed River from there in an instant to take him away from the threat. Unfortunately, I was powerless to do so. I thought about the parents with small children who were on the planes attacked on 9/11 and how utterly terrified and powerless they must have been. Getting yourself into a bad situation is one thing. Bringing your child into danger, no matter how inadvertently, is another.

All this is to say that becoming a mother has affected my fear quotient. It’s made me more afraid than I used to be. I don’t want to do anything too stupid myself because I don’t want River to grow up without a mother. I’m sure he’d be fine. I’m sure he’d win over the hearts of whoever was in his life. But I don’t think any other woman could love him in the same way I do. For that reason, I want to be there for him. And of course, while I want to expose him to life and adventure, I don’t want to put him in harm’s way.

My husband applauds my newfound caution, saying that I wasn’t careful enough in the past. Yet, when I return from vacation telling him I was more careful than usual, yet I had a serious rafting accident and terrifying flights, he thinks I still have a way to go.