08/12/06
I'm not sure where to begin... this will probably be random thoughts on parenting.
I had lots of ideas on how I wanted my children to be raised... before I had them. I suppose you might say I was very opinionated about the whole thing... right up until my first child was born. Once he arrived, everything went out the window. Bye bye... see ya later... gone. I've always considered myself fairly well pulled-together... but nothing could have prepared me for the wonderful, intoxicating, somewhat unnerving, breathless feeling becoming a parent gives you. Holding that baby in your arms for the first time is like holding pure joy. If joy were a tangible thing, that's what it would feel like... what it would smell like. I don't care how many "What to Expect" books you read, nothing... and I mean nothing... prepares you for the challenges and utter joy of being a parent. I have never been this happy in my life. I'm not saying that my style of parenting is the best, but I think I do the best that I can. Especially when I see my children flourishing.
I think Billy Crystal said it best when he wrote a book to his unborn grandchild. He called it, "I already know I love you." It's true... you do already love your child before they arrive. At least, from a mother's standpoint you do. Of course, someone asks you, "Well, how can you love someone you never met?" I say, "Easy... no matter what, this is my child... and I will love him even if he is born with purple hair and blue polka-dots, he's my son, and I love him." That's how I feel about my children. I wouldn't care what society considered "wrong" with them... they're the most perfect and wonderful thing I've ever done and I love them unconditionally.
I guess that's why it's so personal when someone says something that might be misconstrued as negative about my children. Even if they didn't mean it to be ugly, and even if I know my children didn't hear it... nor would they understand it had they heard it... it's still personal to me.
It's the same if someone is mean to my children. I'm talkin'... MEAN... just because they can be. It hurts me... not just my child. Chances are, in 10 minutes, he will have forgotten that someone was rude or obnoxious... or just plain mean... to them. But I betcha-by-golly, I won't have forgotten it, nor will I be forgetting it anytime soon. Adults have no business being mean to any child. Ever. Period.
Correcting someone else's child is all in how you do it. Shouting at them and getting in their little face and asking, "What were you thinking?! Don't you ever do that again!" Isn't going to cut it as far as I'm concerned. If my children are in a crowd of adults... and someone sees my child trying to light a match, I expect that the nearest responsible adult will take the match and come tell me what happened so I can correct him. If my son is standing up in his chair about to fall on the floor, I want the nearest adult to grab him and make him sit down. Or tell him, in an I-mean-business tone, to sit down before he falls and hurts himself. Not in a condescending, belittling tone that makes him feel terrible about himself. I know that people see danger in different places and I don't expect that everyone I meet will have the same standards as I have, but I do expect some things just go without saying... like standing up in chairs.
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They say that if you need advice on how to raise your children, just ask someone who doesn't have any. How true is that statement?! It seems that not only do people who don't have children know the very best way to do it (no matter what "it" is) they also want to tell you how to do it. If you don't agree, well you're just wrong. Hello?!?! I'm the one with the kid here!
Until you carry that baby nearly 10 long, tedious, tiresome months; go the hospital and endure the poking, the prodding, the epidural, and embarrassment... not to mention the fact that giving birth vaginally is the equivalent of pushing a watermelon through your left nostril ... (with or without drugs, mind you!) then the little miracle is placed into your arms and you truly know what "love at first sight" means... then you simply are NOT qualified to tell anyone else how to raise their children. No... not even if they ask. Now I know there are some who will say, "Well, what about those people who adopt a child?" Kudos to them! Thank the dear Lord in Heaven that there are people out there who have the love and capacity in their hearts to adopt a child. No matter if that child is a newborn or a teenager, there is still a learning curve involved... yes... those parents are indeed qualified to give other parents advice on how to raise their children.
It's those people who don't have children who want to tell you what you've just done wrong with your's, that I simply cannot abide. You know the ones... the people at the park who appear to be there waiting on you to arrive so they can critique your parenting style and negatively comment on how you allowed your son to wear his Crocs instead of tennis shoes even though you know there are wood chips at the park. The people in the grocery store who stare down their nose at you as you maneuver one of those giant, hard-to-steer "car-buggies" through the store, while you feed your children chocolate chip cookies and sweet tea in an effort to keep them contained while you pick up a few items. (Whatever parent came up with the "car-buggy" idea, is simply a freaking genius. It must have been a parent because parents know the challenge of taking small children to the grocery store.) The people who stare at you like you've just done something smelly when you're on an airplane and you're discreetly nursing your baby to sleep so they won't scream their heads off the entire flight.. You'd think they'd never seen the teeniest peek of a breast before. Honestly, I'd MUCH rather see a baby nursing (or taking a bottle) than I would an old man eating greasy chicken wings or anything else that has the potential to dribble down their chins. Somehow a little bit of milk on a chubby little baby's cheek is much more appealing to me. What about the people who watch in horror and utter shock as your 4 yr old potty-training son jumps out of the car to pee on the tire because he can't make it inside the store without peeing in his pants. Come on, people, it's a little bit of kid pee! I have a feeling it's those same people who have those little yap-yap dogs at home that pee on the furniture and the owners then speak in baby-talk to the dog "did wittle FiFi have an wittle accident? awww... let mommy cwean it up for you!" Ugh!!!!!! Being a good parent is challenging enough without having THOSE kinds of people around.
Thing is, the real challenge begins just after the baby comes home. Many believe it's the actually birthing process that is the toughest part of becoming a parent. That's not necessarily so. Epidurals, poking, prodding, and having everyone including the florist come by and take a peek at your nether regions is cake compared to what it's like to take care of a newborn child who is totally dependent on YOU. It's an awesome responsibility to realize that you're all they've got. Honestly, when we left the hospital with our first child I felt like Bonnie and Clyde, absconding with this baby. I felt like I'd really pulled one over on the nurses... "hey.. they really think we know what to do with this baby! Boy, did we fool them!" Then we got him home, and looked at each other like, "ok, now what?" My husband actually looked at me and said, "I was counting on YOU knowing what to do."
Then comes the arguement... you know... THE arguement. The one all new parents go through. Where will the baby sleep? Somehow, that beautiful natural cherry, top-o'-the-line, $550.00, in-the-next-room, crib with the $100.00 bedding that perfectly matches the nursery's theme just isn't adequate. I couldn't stand to think that my baby would be in another room from me. I mean... my husband couldn't possibly expect me to put my son in another room away from the sound of my beating heart when he'd literally had it next to him for the last 9 months... could he? Apparently, not only does he expect it... he insists that the baby sleep in the aforementioned crib. Hmph! We'll just see about that! So, we compromise. The first of many, many, MANY, (did I say many?) compromises that we will face where our son is concerned. He ends up sleeping in the pack n' play. Well, sorta... I let him sleep there so long as I sat there next to him watching over him. I think on the second night, when I was running on pure adrenaline because I hadn't slept more than 15 minutes straight in over 72 hours, my husband felt sorry for me and consented to allow the baby to sleep in our bed. But only for the night. Well, I am proud to say that nearly 5 years later, he no longer sleeps with us. He now sleeps in his own bed. Soundly. Though the night. In a bed next to ours. :)
(Never did sleep in that crib, I might add... neither did the next baby. Perhaps one day my brother will have children who can use it.)
I guess the point is that it worked for us. Having him sleep in our bed worked for us. So did a lot of unconventional things that we did when he was little. Did I appreciate all the unsolicited advice we received from well-meaning friends and family? No, not especially. But I took it with grace and accepted that they were only trying to help.
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The very first trip to the store with your new baby is an adventure, I'll tell you! People are always drawn to see a new baby... and wanna hold their little hands! Don't people realize that babies always stick their hands in their mouths? Don't they realize that their own hands are disgusting and nasty? Even if they just washed them, I don't want some stranger to put their hands on my child! Perhaps I am picky... you might argue that they need to be exposed to different germs to build their immune systems... well... to hell with that! I'll decide what germs I want my child exposed to, thank you! Maybe the ones my children get off of a cookie that they pick up off the carpet in my own home, aren't as nasty as the ones they get from the shopping cart at the grocery store. At least in my own mind it's not as nasty... perhaps it is... but I'd like to be the one who makes that decision.
Control freak? Maybe. OK.. yes.. I am.. but I have to be where my children are concerned. I am their mother and if I don't look out for them, who will? No one takes as good care of your children as you do. Why? Because they don't do it the way you do.
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Another thing that happens to you when you have a baby is something awakens deep inside of you that you didn't expect. The only way I know how to describe it is: it's a mother bear. It's primal. It's the thing that causes you to wake up suddenly in the night and run to your child (even if they're 14) and make certain they're breathing. It makes you shudder involuntarily when you hear that a child somewhere has been hurt due to an adult's carelessness. It gives you lightning reflexes. It makes you take a bath with your children so you can get a better grip on their slippery baby-skin. It knows no bounds when it comes to your children. It makes you certain that you'd charge Hell itself with a water pistol over your child. I've heard the stories of mothers who've lifted cars off of their children when it rolled over them. I've heard about mothers who run into a burning building to save their child, not caring that their own hair is on fire... they are simply focused on getting to their child. Well, it's the same for all mothers. I readily admit that I've got a mother bear hiding inside of me. I'm glad she's there though. She makes me realize what I am capable of.
I've learned that I have to sometimes tame the bear, so to speak. I have to keep her at bay when someone makes an idle comment that I could misconstrue. When someone looks at one of my sons and I see a glimmer of contempt in their eyes... I have to force the bear to be still and not roar at that person and not want to rip out their innards through their ear. Boy, is it tough! I know that my family loves my children dearly and I know that they'd never do or say anything to intentionally hurt my or my children's feelings. It's over those damned aforementioned pee-dog people that I really have to keep my mama bear in check.
The bear also comes out whenever I hear that any child has been hurt by an adult. My husband changes the channel and won't let me see stories on the news that talk about children being hurt or molested or kidnapped or killed. I just get too upset. So it's not just about my own children... it's about any child. I try my best to watch out for other people's children whenever I am out in public. Not just because I know some people aren't as conscientious of the danger, but because I firmly believe that what goes around, comes back around. If I watch out for someone's precious child, then maybe, just maybe, someone will watch out for mine when it really counts.
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Which brings me to something else I'd like to address. Whenever I babysit a child, I like to know as much about their routine as I possibly can. That way I can do what the child's parent normally does for them. This is especially helpful to know if, say, that child has an allergy. If that kid is allergic to cheese, I need to know it so I don't feed that child a grilled cheese sandwich. If they go to bed at 8:00 and the parent sits in a dark room and rocks them to sleep before putting them down, well, I need to know that so the child will feel secure and safe with me. I do not just impose my own standards and opinions on someone else's child. For example, my children take mostly holistic medicines and natural cures for things. If someone else doesn't believe in those things, I certainly wouldn't substitute my own methods for what that child's parents have already established and works for their child. For me to do so would not only be wrong, but I don't think I'd be asked to watch that child again. I have never allowed my children to "cry it out." Perhaps some parents disagree with me, but it is what worked best for my children. Whenever I leave my children with a sitter, I fully expect them to respect my opinion on this. Especially because it is included in my list of specific instructions. I don't think it's too much to ask to absolutely expect them to follow my instructions to the letter. If I say my children cannot go outside this afternoon, well, I mean it. It's not because I am being mean, it's because I have a good reason. My reason isn't any of the sitter's business, they simply need to know that my children aren't to go outside that day. If I say that I rocked my son to sleep at night and then laid him down, I expect that the sitter will do just that. I do not expect to come home to an obviously traumatized 7-month old child and have the sitter tell me that they put him upstairs by himself in the dark and let him scream for over an hour before they went back and checked on him because that's how their mother did it when they were a child and it "didn't hurt them any." I can guarantee that person would never, ever be trusted with my children again. Perhaps babysitters should consider if they are willing to do what the parents ask even if they don't agree with it, before they consent to keep someone else's child.
Maybe I am a bit sensitive. Ok... I am a lot sensitive! I cry over Hallmark commercials. I cry over songs that are especially touching. I cry when I think of children who don't have the basic necessities of life. I cry when I think of children who don't have parents, and would give anything to have someone... anyone... love them. I cry over a good book. I cry when I see a commercial for St. Jude's Children's Hospital... and then I send up a silent prayer of thanks that it isn't my child who has stage 4 cancer. So, yeah.. you might call me sensitive. Sensitive isnt necessarily a bad thing, is it? Its the same sensitivity that allows me to feel compassion and love for others. Personally, I think of all the things we all need in life, LOVE is the most important. Maybe if we all concentrated a little more on loving each other instead of judging each other, this world might be a better place to live in.
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Until you've held a choking infant in your arms and silently willed whatever it was blocking their breathing to move, you don't know what fright is. Until you've heard the words, "Mommy, come quick! He's trapped under the shelf... it fell!", you don't know real panic. Until you get the phone call every parent dreads from the Highway Patrol telling you that your daughter has been in an accident and her condition is unknown, you've never known true fear. Its no longer about you its all about your child.
In conclusion, I absolutely love being a mom. I love knowing that after I am gone, there will be at least 2 people in this world who will know that they were loved with all my heart. Those little guys mean the world to me. I cannot remember life being this full and complete before them. I know I love my husband dearly... but I never knew I could love someone like I love my children. I just hope it isnt a sin to love them so much, because if it is, a sinner I am.
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