Being the slightly OCD person that I am, I have a certain appreciation for schedules. I like to know when things are going to happen. It's comforting, having at least parts of your day that are expected, things that you can anticipate. Baby books have encouraged me to do the same thing for my little poopy pants, and to some degree I have tried to do so.
I put him to bed at the same time (give or take a little bit) every night. Sometimes he is exhausted and goes right to sleep, and sometimes it takes him a little play time in his crib before he winds down, but he gets plopped in there at about 6 pm every day no matter what. We're pretty good about sticking to that time, even if we're visiting friends or traveling, even if it means he has to fall asleep in a pack-n-play in Melody's closet!
He also gets his milk at the same time every day...right after he wakes up, and right before bed. He might wake up at 6:45 or he might wake up at 7:30, and I do let him decide when it's time to get up in the morning, but no matter when it is, the first thing we do is make up his milk and snuggle on the couch with his sippy cup until he's finished it. (It's practically the only time during the day he slows down enough to snuggle with me!!)
He gets a nap at around the same time everyday; one in the morning and one in the afternoon. He gets a bath right after dinner, and dinner is roughly 5 pm every day.
So he has some parts of his life that are on a timeline. He can anticipate that after dinner he will get his bath. He knows it's coming, and he can take some comfort in that routine. He knows when he wakes up he will get a clean diaper and a prompt cup of milk, so he can feel safe knowing his tummy won't be empty for long.
But sometimes these baby books take it too freaking far. Now I won't name any names, because I don't want a slander suit against me, but I think some of them are downright tyrannical. Examples include:
1.) They want you to only give the baby their drink at certain times during the day. Now I am sorry, but I do not only get thirsty at 9 am, noon, and 3 pm. I want access to my water whenever I want it. If someone told me I could only have my water bottle a few times a day I would flip out. So why would I want to keep Owen from accessing his water or his juice-water whenever he wants it?? What possible bad habit is this going to instill in him? And why would I want him to suffer through the, let's be honest, truly awful feeling of being thirsty, just to prove I can?!? It's a basic human need to be able to drink when we experience thirst. I don't think that letting your child carry their sippy or have access to a cup is going to turn them into selfish, wild kids. This just seems like a parent on a power trip to me.
2.) They suggest putting baby to bed at the exact same time every day for naps and for the night. Now I can support the night-time continuity. I think it's good for all of us if we go to bed at about the same time every night. I think we sleep better that way. But nap time is another story...sometimes Owen is tired as early as 8:30, and sometimes he's not ready for a nap until well after 9. If I schedule naps for 9 am on the dot, and he's whiny and tired at 8:30, we shouldn't have to spend half an hour miserable because he needs to sleep. And if he's playing strong and having a good time at 9:15, I shouldn't be forcing him to calm down and sleep when he's not tired yet. Then I suffer through half an hour, or more, of him screaming in his crib because he's wide awake and wants to play! What sense does that make? What does that do for him? How does that teach him anything about self-care? It just teaches him that a clock is more important than his true needs. Which, at least in this house, it is NOT.
3.) They insist that baby should eat meals at the same time every day and not be given many, if any, options to snack. And baby should sit in their high chair until they have eaten what you served, or go hungry. Hold the phone, Einstein. Let me just tell YOU a little something about eating. I do not know a single adult who only eats at meals, which are always at the same time, and doesn't snack during the day. Unless they're in an institution of some kind. So why on earth would I subject my little boy to a childhood of institution-like food habits? And since when do we always feel like eating what's in front of us? No, I don't want Owen to grow up thinking that Mommy is a line cook who will serve him what he wants whenever he wants it, but I do think that having choices is good for little brains. I give him options at his meals...maybe breakfast he gets a shot at a waffle with peanut butter first. If that isn't going so well we'll try yogurt. If he's still not interested I will give him some fruit, maybe some grapes. And if that's still rejected (not likely), I assume he's not hungry and we skip the breakfast fight that the baby books (which I won't name) insist is important for baby's development. All that shit will develop is a stubborn baby and a cranky Mommy. The thing is, I understand that sometimes I don't feel like a certain food, or sometimes I don't feel like breakfast, or I'm just having a day where I am not so hungry. That's another basic human need. We eat when we're hungry, we don't when we're not. Why try to go against biology to prove you're in charge?!!!?
I could go on and on, but the point is, I think some scheduling is important, and I agree that babies need structure and some limitations. But being a human being means being flexible about meeting your needs, and I don't think it's fair to be flexible about meeting my needs, but not about meeting his.
a teeny blurb about me
- another clueless mom
- I am a 32 year old first time mom who is continually shocked at how much those baby books and doulas and midwives don't tell you about having and raising kids...let me tell you, it's a lot!
9.27.2011
9.22.2011
You Are Making Me CRAZY!
I love my child, I really REALLY do. He is beautiful and smart and funny, and he cracks me up all day long. He is snuggly and sweet, and he has the cutest toes on the planet. He's wonderful. He's growing up just the way he should, he's right on time or ahead of the curve on his developmental stuff. So I adore him, and I don't think there's any question about that.
But sometimes he makes me CRAZY!
There is a small side table nestled in a corner made by the edge of the futon and the edge of this chair my mom had. He can't reach it from the front or the back, which is why we keep our laptops and drinks and stuff on it. As soon as he figured out how to climb on the futon he has made a beeline for it, and no matter how many times I say "Oh-Oh!" and redirect him, or say "NO!" and startle him, snatch him up and put him in his crib for a few minutes, or whatever, he just goes for it over and over. He knows, now, that he's not supposed to. He'll inch up there, look at me, inch a little closer, look at me, giggle, and then reach his little arm out, look at me, and smile because he knows he is MAKING ME CRAZY.
He has discovered his inner whiner. Usually it's justified: he gets hungry, he gets sleepy, and he can't respond well to things like dropping his toy or running into the wall, and he starts whining. Or he will whine if I get up and leave the room for a second, and come follow me, and tug on my pants, whining up a storm. And I can look at the clock and recognize that those whines are justified whines that say "Mommy, I need you to take care of me right now and feed me/put me to bed/change my stinky booty." But then there is the whining that starts as soon as he gets up from a nap, or immediately after a snack, that have no clear cause except he's just crabby. I try everything...fresh water or juice in his cup, a clean diaper, sometimes all new clothes (I get crabby if my clothes don't fit well, too!), snuggling, playing on the floor........none of it works, and he will just stumble around whining for an hour or two, and it MAKES ME CRAZY because I have no idea how to make him stop or what to do to make him happy, short of duct tape and Benedryl.
Diaper changing is becoming more dramatic and less simple. He used to just lay (lie?) there, stare at me or the ceiling, coo and gurgle, and let me change his bottom. Now he screams as though I am sticking hot needles into his baby junk, thrashes his legs so that if there is poop in the diaper or on his tush it gets all over everything, tries to turn over and crawl away, grabs the wipes from my hand and throws them across the room, screams again, tries to shred his diaper, and then sobs most piteously. It's horrible, it takes 4 times as long as it needs to, and it always ends with me pinning him to the floor with my leg and getting poo on my hands. I look forward to the weekends when Aron is in charge of diaper changing because it is DRIVING ME CRAZY.
He has started trying to feed himself with his spoon, and I think that's great! I long for the day when he can sustain life on his own, and I don't have to spoon feed him everything that isn't finger food. It would be nice to be able to eat together, as a family, instead of feeding him first. But these early attempts at self-feeding are not fun. I am patient, and calm, because I want him to keep trying and I want it to go well for him and feel like a success. But inside it DRIVES ME CRAZY when he flings a spoon full of oatmeal in my face, drops a spoonful of yogurt on the floor, and hits himself in the eye with a spoonful of mac and cheese.
But I love him. Boy oh boy, do I love him!
But sometimes he makes me CRAZY!
There is a small side table nestled in a corner made by the edge of the futon and the edge of this chair my mom had. He can't reach it from the front or the back, which is why we keep our laptops and drinks and stuff on it. As soon as he figured out how to climb on the futon he has made a beeline for it, and no matter how many times I say "Oh-Oh!" and redirect him, or say "NO!" and startle him, snatch him up and put him in his crib for a few minutes, or whatever, he just goes for it over and over. He knows, now, that he's not supposed to. He'll inch up there, look at me, inch a little closer, look at me, giggle, and then reach his little arm out, look at me, and smile because he knows he is MAKING ME CRAZY.
He has discovered his inner whiner. Usually it's justified: he gets hungry, he gets sleepy, and he can't respond well to things like dropping his toy or running into the wall, and he starts whining. Or he will whine if I get up and leave the room for a second, and come follow me, and tug on my pants, whining up a storm. And I can look at the clock and recognize that those whines are justified whines that say "Mommy, I need you to take care of me right now and feed me/put me to bed/change my stinky booty." But then there is the whining that starts as soon as he gets up from a nap, or immediately after a snack, that have no clear cause except he's just crabby. I try everything...fresh water or juice in his cup, a clean diaper, sometimes all new clothes (I get crabby if my clothes don't fit well, too!), snuggling, playing on the floor........none of it works, and he will just stumble around whining for an hour or two, and it MAKES ME CRAZY because I have no idea how to make him stop or what to do to make him happy, short of duct tape and Benedryl.
Diaper changing is becoming more dramatic and less simple. He used to just lay (lie?) there, stare at me or the ceiling, coo and gurgle, and let me change his bottom. Now he screams as though I am sticking hot needles into his baby junk, thrashes his legs so that if there is poop in the diaper or on his tush it gets all over everything, tries to turn over and crawl away, grabs the wipes from my hand and throws them across the room, screams again, tries to shred his diaper, and then sobs most piteously. It's horrible, it takes 4 times as long as it needs to, and it always ends with me pinning him to the floor with my leg and getting poo on my hands. I look forward to the weekends when Aron is in charge of diaper changing because it is DRIVING ME CRAZY.
He has started trying to feed himself with his spoon, and I think that's great! I long for the day when he can sustain life on his own, and I don't have to spoon feed him everything that isn't finger food. It would be nice to be able to eat together, as a family, instead of feeding him first. But these early attempts at self-feeding are not fun. I am patient, and calm, because I want him to keep trying and I want it to go well for him and feel like a success. But inside it DRIVES ME CRAZY when he flings a spoon full of oatmeal in my face, drops a spoonful of yogurt on the floor, and hits himself in the eye with a spoonful of mac and cheese.
But I love him. Boy oh boy, do I love him!
9.17.2011
You are NOT a big boy yet!
I have a baby. He is one year old. He walks, and babble-talks, and tries to feed himself with a spoon. These are all normal, average one year old baby activities. These, and things like splashing in the bath tub, wiggling during diaper changes, and putting blocks in your mouth. I accept these things as age-appropriate milestones, and I enjoy them. They are cute.
But my baby is not content with age appropriate activities. My baby wants to do big boy things. He wants to follow big boys like his friend Kaeden, or Daddy, and do what they do. And it is not cute. It freaks me out!
Monkey-man likes to climb stairs, and then turn around and just walk right down them. He can't though, is the thing, so I have to stand behind him, holding onto his arms to keep him from literally falling headfirst down the stairs because he skipped right past the turn-around-and-crawl-down-stairs phase and went right to taking big leaps down the stairs. Can you said 'head injury'??
He also likes to walk out into traffic/parking lots without waiting for anyone, he enjoys crawling from one piece of furniture to the top of another piece of furniture (a higher, taller piece of furniture), and he finds great joy in reaching for sharp/hot/full things on the kitchen counter.
Much to my chagrin, he also thinks that climbing onto the seat of his brand new tricycle and standing on it like a water-skier with one leg in the air and one hand on the handle bars is a neat trick (except when he falls on his face). He thinks that pulling chairs out from under the dining room table is cool (except when they tip over on his head). And he finds it necessary to help us unload the dishwasher by climbing onto the open door and extracting plates (except when one drops on his toes).
Why can't he stay content with safe, quiet things like empty boxes or musical stuffed animals for a little while longer...?
Sigh.
But my baby is not content with age appropriate activities. My baby wants to do big boy things. He wants to follow big boys like his friend Kaeden, or Daddy, and do what they do. And it is not cute. It freaks me out!
Monkey-man likes to climb stairs, and then turn around and just walk right down them. He can't though, is the thing, so I have to stand behind him, holding onto his arms to keep him from literally falling headfirst down the stairs because he skipped right past the turn-around-and-crawl-down-stairs phase and went right to taking big leaps down the stairs. Can you said 'head injury'??
He also likes to walk out into traffic/parking lots without waiting for anyone, he enjoys crawling from one piece of furniture to the top of another piece of furniture (a higher, taller piece of furniture), and he finds great joy in reaching for sharp/hot/full things on the kitchen counter.
Much to my chagrin, he also thinks that climbing onto the seat of his brand new tricycle and standing on it like a water-skier with one leg in the air and one hand on the handle bars is a neat trick (except when he falls on his face). He thinks that pulling chairs out from under the dining room table is cool (except when they tip over on his head). And he finds it necessary to help us unload the dishwasher by climbing onto the open door and extracting plates (except when one drops on his toes).
Why can't he stay content with safe, quiet things like empty boxes or musical stuffed animals for a little while longer...?
Sigh.
9.16.2011
SPOON!
We have been letting Monkey play with spoons while he's eating for a long time. I figured it would a.) keep him occupied enough to minimize the amount of food he threw on the floor or rubbed in his hair thus maximizing the amount of food going into his tummy, b.) be good practice for figuring out how to hold a spoon and feed himself eventually, and c.) not poke him in the eye the way, say, a knife would.
Yesterday, for like the very first time ever, I put some food on his spoon HE was holding, and gently moved his hand/spoon to his mouth, and he took a bite. He thought this was hilarious so we did it a few more times. I thought to myself "Here I go, really paving the way for eventual self-feeding! Yay me!" I was feeling pretty proud of myself for risking food being flung onto the walls, and pretty proud of him for doing such a good job of eating it and not catapulting it.
This morning, in a sleep-deprived haze, I gave him his spoon, got my spoon, started feeding him yogurt, and let him stick his spoon in the yogurt, fervently hoping it would end well but too tired to really care much. What did he do with that spoon tipped with strawberry yogurt? How did he handle it?
He ate it.
That's right, folks. He put the spoon IN HIS MOUTH and ate the little smidge of yogurt that was attached to it from his feeble attempt to scoop.
I cheered! I clapped! I giggled and made the happiest Mom face ever!! And then guess what...
HE DID IT AGAIN!
I love my kid.
Yesterday, for like the very first time ever, I put some food on his spoon HE was holding, and gently moved his hand/spoon to his mouth, and he took a bite. He thought this was hilarious so we did it a few more times. I thought to myself "Here I go, really paving the way for eventual self-feeding! Yay me!" I was feeling pretty proud of myself for risking food being flung onto the walls, and pretty proud of him for doing such a good job of eating it and not catapulting it.
This morning, in a sleep-deprived haze, I gave him his spoon, got my spoon, started feeding him yogurt, and let him stick his spoon in the yogurt, fervently hoping it would end well but too tired to really care much. What did he do with that spoon tipped with strawberry yogurt? How did he handle it?
He ate it.
That's right, folks. He put the spoon IN HIS MOUTH and ate the little smidge of yogurt that was attached to it from his feeble attempt to scoop.
I cheered! I clapped! I giggled and made the happiest Mom face ever!! And then guess what...
HE DID IT AGAIN!
I love my kid.
9.12.2011
Weaning from the bottle is not as fun as it sounds.
The baby books offer lots and lots of advice about how to wean your child off of the bottle and onto a sippy cup or regular cup. I have been trying quite a bit of it for about a week now.
None of it is working.
Owen is apparently more attached to his bottle than I first suspected. They're like velcro...really strong, industrial, hold an aircraft carrier together kind of velcro.
What made me realize that I am not up against any average baby with average bottle love was nap time today. He always gets a small bottle before his morning nap. The baby books suggest replacing what's in the bottle with water, and then having a sippy cup or regular cup with his milk handy, and offering him the choice. "Baby will soon realize that the bottle, offering only water, is not as satisfying, and will accept the other offered cup."
Bwaah haa haa! They have never met MY child.
Owen sucked down the water from his bottle in a flash, relinquished it when he was SURE it was empty, took two sips of milk from the sippy cup and spit it out all over his t shirt, and then threw the sippy cup of milk on the floor.
So much for the wisdom of baby books.
I am wondering if we will just have to resort to cold turkey methods. Eventually he will accept his sippy cup, right? It might take a few days of him not getting much milk, but it won't kill him, right? Right...?
None of it is working.
Owen is apparently more attached to his bottle than I first suspected. They're like velcro...really strong, industrial, hold an aircraft carrier together kind of velcro.
What made me realize that I am not up against any average baby with average bottle love was nap time today. He always gets a small bottle before his morning nap. The baby books suggest replacing what's in the bottle with water, and then having a sippy cup or regular cup with his milk handy, and offering him the choice. "Baby will soon realize that the bottle, offering only water, is not as satisfying, and will accept the other offered cup."
Bwaah haa haa! They have never met MY child.
Owen sucked down the water from his bottle in a flash, relinquished it when he was SURE it was empty, took two sips of milk from the sippy cup and spit it out all over his t shirt, and then threw the sippy cup of milk on the floor.
So much for the wisdom of baby books.
I am wondering if we will just have to resort to cold turkey methods. Eventually he will accept his sippy cup, right? It might take a few days of him not getting much milk, but it won't kill him, right? Right...?
9.03.2011
What I really wanted to do was punch her...
We were at Wal-Mart in the produce department tonight, getting veggies for a snack tray for Owen's party tomorrow. A mom, grandma, and little boy who was about 4 (whose name was actually Owen!) were having a hard time. The little boy apparently was worried that the movie they were letting him get was going to get lost (their buggy was VERY full of stuff and I bet he lost sight of it) and was upset. He wasn't tantrum upset, he was just asking them repeatedly to make sure it was in there, and they were ignoring him. He finally started to lose it, and the mom went bonkers.
She grabbed him, pulled him to the side, and got in his face yelling at him about how he's a "selfish, ungrateful little boy" who "needs to act like a gentleman if he's going to come out with her ever again" and how she's "sick of his sniveling attitude all the time." He of course started crying, and he kept trying to hug her, he so badly needed some comfort. She pushed him away, snapped at him to stop crying, and then started belittling him about why he thought his movie was going to disappear, it wasn't going anywhere, it's stupid that he doesn't know that, etc. He kept crying, obviously past tantrum and into big hurt feelings. She was not nice or loving at any point, and finally dragged him out to the car.
It was HORRIBLE. All I wanted to do was grab that little boy, give him a big hug, and punch his mom right in her mean old face. I wanted her to beg that little boy to forgive her for being such a raging bitch. I wanted to walk away knowing that would never happen again.
It will, though. She's done this to him before, she'll do it again. And he'll be a little boy who struggles with self esteem and feeling loved or secure. And it breaks my heart so much.
It also makes me even more determined than ever that I will NEVER speak to my child that way, that I will NEVER treat Owen with such disrespect and disdain. I started reading "Love and Logic" for kids, and I really think that book makes sense and will help me get through the trying times with O.
Sometimes I really hate people. Sometimes it's all I can do not to roundhouse kick them in the back of the head.
She grabbed him, pulled him to the side, and got in his face yelling at him about how he's a "selfish, ungrateful little boy" who "needs to act like a gentleman if he's going to come out with her ever again" and how she's "sick of his sniveling attitude all the time." He of course started crying, and he kept trying to hug her, he so badly needed some comfort. She pushed him away, snapped at him to stop crying, and then started belittling him about why he thought his movie was going to disappear, it wasn't going anywhere, it's stupid that he doesn't know that, etc. He kept crying, obviously past tantrum and into big hurt feelings. She was not nice or loving at any point, and finally dragged him out to the car.
It was HORRIBLE. All I wanted to do was grab that little boy, give him a big hug, and punch his mom right in her mean old face. I wanted her to beg that little boy to forgive her for being such a raging bitch. I wanted to walk away knowing that would never happen again.
It will, though. She's done this to him before, she'll do it again. And he'll be a little boy who struggles with self esteem and feeling loved or secure. And it breaks my heart so much.
It also makes me even more determined than ever that I will NEVER speak to my child that way, that I will NEVER treat Owen with such disrespect and disdain. I started reading "Love and Logic" for kids, and I really think that book makes sense and will help me get through the trying times with O.
Sometimes I really hate people. Sometimes it's all I can do not to roundhouse kick them in the back of the head.
9.02.2011
Sad Thing...Happy Thing...All in one day...
Tuesday was Owen's first birthday. My sweet little cherub has turned into a walking, furniture climbing, baby talk babbling small person. He is so smart, and so tall, and so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him. I woke up Tuesday morning with gratitude in my heart and an extra bounce in my step. I sang Happy Birthday to him when I got him out of his crib, and told him how lucky I was to have him in my life.
It was a happy moment. I was anticipating a fully happy day.
It didn't turn out that way.
I went to the bathroom and realized I was having some heavy bleeding, which is not a good thing when you're 8 weeks pregnant. I went to the OBGYN, and the ultrasound was inconclusive, so they drew some blood and sent me home with very little information and a lot of confusion. My happy day with my baby boy was turned upside down, and that almost made me more sad than anything else. I didn't want that to be how I remembered his first birthday.
The next day I had to go back, get another ultrasound, and they were concerned about a spot that looked like an ectopic pregnancy, so they rushed me into emergency surgery. I only got to spend a few hours with Owen that day, too.
I am angry that the beauty of my baby's very first birthday was overshadowed by the sadness and drama of losing his younger sibling-to-be. I am sad that this next baby, who I wanted very much, is now gone. I am hopeful that we can try again. I am tired and drained by all of the events of the past few days. And I am trying to have faith that it all happens for a reason.
We are still having his birthday party on Sunday, and something like 20 people are coming from 3 states to be here for the celebration. We are very lucky, and very loved. My Monkey is a special boy.
It was a happy moment. I was anticipating a fully happy day.
It didn't turn out that way.
I went to the bathroom and realized I was having some heavy bleeding, which is not a good thing when you're 8 weeks pregnant. I went to the OBGYN, and the ultrasound was inconclusive, so they drew some blood and sent me home with very little information and a lot of confusion. My happy day with my baby boy was turned upside down, and that almost made me more sad than anything else. I didn't want that to be how I remembered his first birthday.
The next day I had to go back, get another ultrasound, and they were concerned about a spot that looked like an ectopic pregnancy, so they rushed me into emergency surgery. I only got to spend a few hours with Owen that day, too.
I am angry that the beauty of my baby's very first birthday was overshadowed by the sadness and drama of losing his younger sibling-to-be. I am sad that this next baby, who I wanted very much, is now gone. I am hopeful that we can try again. I am tired and drained by all of the events of the past few days. And I am trying to have faith that it all happens for a reason.
We are still having his birthday party on Sunday, and something like 20 people are coming from 3 states to be here for the celebration. We are very lucky, and very loved. My Monkey is a special boy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)