APtly Said – Page 86

Reframing the Yes Environment

Many moms and dads have heard of the “Yes” environment before; it’s popular advice for parents of babies and toddlers. When infants become mobile, we are advised to create an environment for them that is free of “No”s. We baby proof everything; put small and dangerous objects out of reach, cover up safety hazards, lock the cabinets, install gates, secure furniture to the wall, pad the sharp edges of tables and fireplace mantles, and put any and all valuables and destructive items safely away. We look for every opportunity to say “No,” to tell our babies that they need to stay away from something or to put something down, and we turn those “No”s into “Yes”es. This is a Yes Environment.

It is fantastic for our homes, but what about when we’re other places? We can take the principles of the Yes Environment and apply them to other situations. Here’s another perspective:

One mom’s 2-year-old son repeatedly throws his toy car on the ground as he rides in the cart at the grocery store, not because he is angry or upset, but simply because he thinks it is great fun. This mom says, “If I take it away because I need to grocery shop, isn’t that a punishment?”

What she is doing by holding onto the car is creating a yes environment while she shops. That is the best thing she can do to help her son succeed in not throwing his car.

When she is getting annoyed at constantly stopping to get the car (which is very valid), she can simply pick it up and put it in her bag without a word. If the toddler notices that she doesn’t give it back to him and he asks about it, she can tell him, “The car keeps falling down, so I’m going to hold it for now.” She’s not blaming or shaming him by telling him it’s his own fault he doesn’t have the car, or that “this is what happens when you act this way.” Just solving a temporary problem to get the shopping done smoothly.

Creating a yes environment is about setting a child up for success; about removing obstacles to success. In accompanying his mom through the grocery store, the obstacle to the little boy’s success is the entire combination of: the toy, his age, the setting, his need to experience things (here, the emotional, cognitive, and physical experience of repeatedly throwing the car down), and his complete lack of impulse control. By removing the car from that combination of factors, it’s not that she is “taking the car away”, so much as “eliminating an obstacle.” She is creating the opportunity for him to be successful. It’s a yes environment in the grocery cart.

Understanding this principle allows parents to use the yes environment tool in a variety of situations for kids of all ages. Removing obstacles to success is more effective than expecting children to navigate around obstacles when they are not developmentally capable of doing so.

A mom dashes to meet her preschooler and hold his hand as he nears the street…she’s created a yes environment. (The obstacle is the lack of safe guidance in the street. He is not capable of making thoughtful decisions about going in the street.)

A teacher rearranges her seating chart to separate talkative students…it’s a yes environment. (The obstacle is the distraction of fun, chatty friends nearby. They are not capable of controlling their impulse to talk to their friends.)

A dad clears the floor as his daughter launches into a sommersault…yes environment. (The obstacles are, well…the obstacles that are literally in her way. She’s not capable of maneuvering her body around them.)

A yes environment is a fantastic positive parenting tool at any age because it is proactive. It tells children, “I’m going to help you be successful with this.”

Today, let’s look for more ways to create yes environments for our kids. Even if they may not be toddlers anymore and we don’t need to baby proof their physical environment, we can still remove obstacles to their success. We can look for ways to turn “No”s into “Yes”es. We can help our kids be successful until they’re capable of doing it on their own.

Attempting to Write

This past week of July has been filled with a great darkness. I have finally tried to write from home in a serious way. This was my plan when I left my job at 6 months pregnant. I would relax throughout my pregnancy and then begin my journey in freelance writing once I was comfortable in my new mommy world. But the dream seems to be unreachable almost every day so far.

My daughter is just 6 months old and the past 6 months have been amazing. I managed to find time to finish my master’s degree at night while my little girl and I trekked the city by day. We went to sign language classes, baby yoga, farmers market and numerous trips to Target just to walk around while I splurged on Starbucks and Archer Farm chocolate chip cookies.

After visiting with family for a few weeks though I began to feel a burning desire to write from home. Listening to my twin sister’s plans to teach overseas and my girlfriend’s new position as a screenwriter just left me wondering how exactly I spend my days… and where these days are headed. I began to feel like I was wasting precious time I could be using to further myself. Perhaps what I’m seeking is that SAHM comfort. I still feel quite unsure that I am doing the right thing…still unsure if I really make a difference…and why can’t I do something more than diaper changes and silly faces. Maybe I could be a SAHM that is also a productive member of the workforce.

After making a list of topics, best affiliate programs for noobs 2020 and magazines I would query I set out to write. I plopped my daughter next to me in her bouncy seat and typed away. I felt a rush of ambition rush over me. I did some research online to find some freelance writing jobs and applied to a few. Wouldn’t hurt right? Then the fussiness began. I stepped away from my beautiful writing bubble and calmed my baby girl down. This time I put her in a swing and turned on SpongeBob. I sat back down even more excited to begin writing. Again my head was just rushing with ideas and I felt a blissful feeling of self-satisfaction. Even if I only wrote one day a week maybe I could make some extra shopping money and beat those occasional bouts of boredom. Maybe I could wake up every day with a mission on my mind instead of diaper changes and Sesame Street. But, then, 5 minutes later the fussy baby to my left seemed to be very angry about these plans. These failed attempts continued throughout the day and week. Even my plans to write at night while she was zonked out didn’t work out. All I wanted to do by the end of the day was read a book and lay down. All of my creative juices were dried up.

I began to question my worth as a SAHM. Thoughts of putting her in daycare crossed my mind despite the fact I never wanted that for my daughter. I want to be a WAHM (work at home mom) but I don’t see where the balance is. It seems clear that I was beginning to ignore my daughter and she was simply screaming for some attention. Perhaps all I really need right now is a boost of self-confidence as a SAHM. Maybe in a month or two she will be self-reliant enough to entertain herself long enough to do a tad of writing….Here’s hoping.

Telling Your Child About Death

Just three weeks ago I paced the house, cleaning and straightening. I was nervous about breaking the horrible news that our neighbor and first-grade teacher had died suddenly. My eight-year-old daughter adored this woman and I knew that she would be hurt.

Children learn about death from many sources, but they learn about grieving from the people they love most.

Many AP parents want to know how to be an attached parent beyond the baby years. I hope this post helps others to understand how the principles of AP can come together to help you make gentle parenting choices throughout the lives of your children. I did not realize until now just how many AP principles went into my approach.

I learned of the death after dinner, but knew that the end of a long day was the wrong time to tell her. We were still uncertain about the cause of death and hoped that morning would bring more information. Such tragic news delivered at bedtime was sure to bring poor sleep and nightmares. (API Principle 5: Ensure safe sleep; physically and emotionally)

After a good, healthy breakfast (Principle 2: Feed with love and respect) and some play time with her sisters, I found a chance to tell her alone. Random bits of advice and knowledge had swirled around in my head all morning.

Years ago, I heard a child psychologist tell parents that bad news should be delivered to children during the first ten seconds of the conversation. Children often get lost and overly anxious if you spend too much time trying to soften the blow. (Principle 1: Prepare for parenting)

Remembering this, I held her hands (Principle 4: Use nurturing touch) and told her that I had something hard to tell her. She was sitting across from me on my bed. I watched her head drop and her tiny heart break with the horrible words, “Mrs. Apolzan died this weekend.”

With just the slightest movement of my hands, she fell into my arms so we could cry together. (Principle 3: Respond with sensitivity.) Over the next few days, I answered all of her questions as patiently and honestly as I could. We allowed her to cry, to be sad, but also to forget all about it and just play.

She attended a painfully sad memorial service with me at her request and we talked about different customs regarding death, funerals and burial options. She is a very inquisitive child and the extra information seemed to help her to sort out her feelings.

Death is painful only to the living. I did not want to write about it. Looking back now, I realize I simply did not want to live it. I certainly did not want to be the one to inflict the heartache of death upon my child.

But, I’m a mother.

I could never let someone else deliver such a crushing blow. My only real choice was to catch her, to hold her and to love her while she learned this painful lesson of life.

Grace and peace.

We loved you, Mrs. Apolzan, and we will always be grateful for our opportunity to know you.

AP and Spanking Don’t Mix

Many parents, even many of those who are focused on creating a secure attachment with their child, spank as a form of discipline. They may say things like…

“I only spank when….”

“I only spank after I’ve tried [XYZ] first.”

“Spanking is OK when it’s done [a certain way], but not [a certain other way].”

“We did attachment parenting when our kids were infants (past tense).”

“We follow AP, but believe in strong discipline for obedience.”

“We are AP, except for spanking.”

Attachment parenting is about raising children using parenting methods that strengthen relationships, foster empathy, and teach nonviolent communication. Spanking may elicit appropriate behavior in children, but it is a technique that, no matter how it is administered, does not support a secure attachment; it does not meet kids’ emotional needs, and it functions against the goals of AP (communication, connection).

Attachment parenting has no end date. It is not a stage or a phase, but a mindset. It’s a perspective that permeates the relationship between a parent and child and all of the interactions they have together. So, the parenting goals that AP moms and dads have when their kids are infants are the same goals they have when their kids are older; communication, connection, respectful relationships.

Just because children outgrow infanthood, doesn’t mean they outgrow those needs. And just because parents may be focused on teaching their kids appropriate behavior doesn’t mean they should ignore the principles that drew them to AP in the first place.

The goal of attachment parenting is connection, not obedience. There is simply no attachment-promoting way to spank.

There are, however, attachment-promoting ways to discipline; to teach children those necessary elements of behavioral limits, expectations, and accountability, while still prioritizing the parent-child relationship. Positive discipline accomplishes this. The tools of positive discipline fit well within the context of attachment parenting because they follow the “And” principle…

I want to teach my kids how to behave appropriately and I want to prioritize our relationship.
I want my kids to be accountable for their behavior and I want to respect them (their autonomy, their development).
I want to parent with firmness and kindness.
I want to let kids know what is expected of them and I want to stay connected to them.
I want to teach my kids respect and I want to facilitate communication between us.

It is common to equate positive parenting with permissive parenting. As children outgrow the AP practices of infanthood, parents frequently believe that they must “establish control” of their children, expect obedience, and enforce boundaries. For without limits and authority, children “rule the roost,” right?

Yes, children certainly need limits. Yes, they need clear boundaries. Yes, parents must communicate their expectations and hold kids accountable for their behavior. And yes, parents can teach kids these things without punishments, without threats, without inducing fear, and without spanking.

At the start of her 7-week Positive Discipline classes, author and parent educator Jane Nelsen asks parents, “How many of you would try one other parenting tool before you spanked?” Inevitably, every hand goes up. She continues and asks, “How many of you would try two things before spanking?” Hands stay up. “Three things? More?” And still, the hands stay up.

So, many parents are, indeed, aware of the limitations of spanking. Many parents spank because they are exasperated with their child’s behavior and want it to stop but don’t know what else to do. This is exactly what Positive Discipline classes do; they give parents new tools for disciplining effectively and non-punitively, while fostering and maintaining an emotional connection with their children.

As children outgrow the practices of AP such as breastfeeding, babywearing, and co-sleeping, they grow into other ones. Different techniques accomplish the same attachment-oriented goals: connection, security, respectful communication. It is possible to fill parenting toolboxes with a supply of non-punitive, connection-enhancing alternatives to spanking.

There are many. Some are in-the-moment reactive, while others are primarily proactive. All are able to accomplish the same results as spanking (setting limits, expecting accountability, teaching kids appropriate behavior) but with the important element of respect. These are just some (very condensed) examples taken from the set of Positive Discipline Parenting Tools:

Positive time out—both parents and children can take take time to cool off and access our rational brains.
Focus on solutions—move from thinking, “What can I do to get through to you?” to “What can we do to solve this problem?”
Wheel of choice—brainstorm solutions to everyday conflicts to give kids choices in problem solving.
Distract and redirect—turn a “don’t” into a “do.”
Eye to eye—communication becomes more respectful when you look into your child’s eyes.
Hugs—for children and parents alike; we all do better when we feel better. Physical affection restores brain chemistry to a calm, rational state.
Limited choices—provide small steps in shared power.
Listen—your children will listen after they feel listened to.
Use mistakes as opportunities for problem solving, not punishment.
Validate feelings—don’t fix, rescue, or talk children out of their feelings, and have faith in them to work it through.
Agreements—brainstorm with a child to find a solution everyone can agree to. If the problem occurs, remind the child, “What was our agreement?”
Connection before correction—when emotional connection is in place, the need for correction is greatly minimized.
Break the code—misbehavior is an external code for an internal problem; get at the root of the problem and the behavior will change.
Empower your kids—share control to help kids develop skills to have their own power.
Natural consequences—allow kids to experience the natural consequences of their choices without interference from you.
Encouragement—a misbehaving child is a discouraged child and needs to be encouraged rather than made to feel worse.
Use nonviolent communication—Speak in acknowledgements, “You feel hurt and you need someone to understand,” rather than in judgments, “When will you ever learn?”
Take time for teaching—teach kids what to do and be patient with the learning process.
Special time—schedule regular one-on-one time with each child.
Curiosity questions—ask questions to understand the child’s intentions, motives, feelings and needs.
Show faith—have faith in children to handle their mistakes.
Sense of humor—turn discipline into playful parenting.

And there are even more. Not all tools are applicable to every situation, and some tools work better in combination with others. Every situation is different with every family. For more information and explanation on the tools, you can take a class near you or get the Positive Discipline Parenting Tool Cards.

Parenting non-punitively is definitely more time consuming than administering a spanking, but it is infinitely more valuable. A trusting, encouraging, secure relationship is possible with our newborns, grown-up children and every age in between. It affects how they see themselves and how they relate to the world, and it starts now.

I’m Not Alone

Benjamin’s in my arms right now. Quiet, sleeping, calm. I’m watching him like an oil painting in a museum. My tiny giant one year old. I study his face and body. His ears have grown; they are now the size of apricots. His hair curls with the humidity. I study his sounds. His tiny snores zigzag under his breath. When he is asleep I am Wonder Mom. When he is overdue for a nap and I am in need of a sleep myself, I am Awful Mom.

The fight to go down for this nap lasted 30 minutes, seemingly like hours through toddler twists and mounts, crying screams that only escalated in decibels, cocooning into a curved ball on my shoulder, head butts to establish prime shoulder rest real estate, and a tenacious one year old desire to stay awake.

I tried the breast first. It used to be my go to sleep inducer. Doesn’t really work anymore; he filled up –recharged and energized, hips spinning from back to belly to knees to movement, pointing to things with toddler immediacy and curious craft. Saying “Dis, Dis,” and trying to unravel the mystery of each object. The air purifier: white like a Storm Trooper, sleek and tall, shiny, huffing out Darth Vader voices of puffs and curled noise with electric royal blue lights humming back and forth like an elevator. The light on the side table to the left of the mattress on the wooden floor — its cord now tucked secretly behind its back. The light, a montage of balls and gloves – football, basketball, soccer ball, and a baseball, all equally interesting to him. “Dat Dat.” He points again looking back at me with the inquiry of a class of eager freshman.

This nap is going nowhere. I start to think about moms who sleep train. I begin to envy scheduled nap time where babies know to nap and agree with baby coos and smiles, snuggling lovies that offer comfort. Teddy bears, baby blankets, little toddler hippos, grey and blue with fuzzy soft down material – some kind of something that will fill in my mom blank. Something he wants more than me right now when I am not soft and snuggly on the inside. In fact, I am dry as the desert and in need of an oasis of patience. I imagine one flowing full with clear streams of mother love. I begin to drool from the thirst.

This patience I barely have is wearing thin, like dough rolled out in transparent flakes. I suddenly am desperate for him to go to sleep. Desperate. My plans on peacefully napping with him to catch up on much needed rest and sleep passes. Quickly, like lightening bugs flashes. I suddenly want wine, sugar, donuts, cupcakes, beer, coffee, carbs, and lots of it. Out. An escape hatch. Where’s the nanny? Where’s the hatch? Oh, I am a Stay At Home Mom. There is no hatch. I even have an acronym: SAHM. I’m the nanny. There is no escape hatch.

He is smiling, grinning with giggles that echo through the room and bounce off the high ceilings of his blue bedroom. I get a cup of oasis patience water and smile back at him. I can’t resist the song of his giggles so gorgeous. I’ve sang him Over the Rainbow over and over the best I could. Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high da da da da da da da to dream aloud. Once upon a da da da da da da da. Way up top on chimney tops and lemon drops you’ll find me, waiting…

Where does the patience come from? Where does it end? It is quick like lightening when that long braided rope runs out, slipping quickly through my layered hands, my layered thoughts. Layered with questions, insecurities, doubts, fields of emotions, floors of frustration, conundrums, lists of things I’ll never do, wishes put on hold, way up top next to the creamed corn, on the shelf I can barely reach.

I’ve got to raise this baby. This boy. My boy, Benjamin. Hold those teeth tight. Lassi whoa, the horses can’t gallop off. I’ve got a family to feed, but the horses patter — their feet below the very ground that is supposed to hold me stable – sturdy – rooted in soil. My curled tendrils attach below this very ground in the garden of motherhood. The horses’ hooves start to become restless—eager to run – to escape – to gallop in a wild childfree shout. I start thinking about news shows and 20/20 segments about moms that start drinking at noon because of the boredom. I think about how having a job outside the home holds me in place. Holds my mind busy, scheduled, engaged in adult synapses of activity and thought. Boredom erupting, flowing over into red pooled lava circles. The containment area – lullabies, swing sets, and gooey gooey talk.

Earlier this morning on our morning walk, I thought about working, how even hanging on the back of a garbage truck would be more active than this. More exciting, as I listened to the men shout and rumble through the quiet morning streets, banging and pounding, creating a symphony of noise like jazz musicians. Strolling down the sidewalk, with my beautiful baby boy, who was taking it all in visually. His mind turning cartwheels and somersaults. My mind – numb with boredom. I was suddenly jealous, eager to be hooting and shouting along with the loud garbage men, bustling with activity on this early AM morning. I thought about interaction. About space. About time. About mind.

I thought about all the people I used to talk to on a daily basis when I was a teacher and now as a SAHM, I have to check in politely for bi-monthly play dates. I’m desperate for daily contact. I used to see my colleagues every day. A comment – a conversation – a break in the teacher’s longue. Something – an exchange of ideas, humor, fashion yes nods. “You look good today. I like that shirt; it brings out your eye color.” A question. An opinion. A complaint. A joke. A dare. A don’t. Something. I don’t get this from Ben, from the swing set at the park, nor does the stroller answer back. Instead, I look forward to bi-monthly mom meet ups. My version of lonely staff meetings where we make small talk about sleep schedules, baby food, and recipes and try to get to know each other through questions like, “Where do you live and what does your husband do?”

I am too open I think, admitting to post-partum depression barely after introductions are made. I stumble long after the group has assembled and disassembled, breaking down the baby strollers, and driving off to each of our own separate spaces. I’m still yearning for a 9 – 5 work day; a 9 – 5 play date would work. I ask myself and roll over the video in my sleep deprived mind – “Why did I say that? Where is your filter for goodness sake?” But then a mom I have just met clicks like links in a set. She laughs at my blunt cut Grade A honesty and nods her head. Yes, I get it. That’s all I need to hear. I’m not alone.

Breastfeeding Memories

Let me take you back to Saturday, June 11, 2011 at about 4 in the morning. I was drowsy. As is my custom, I waited until the last minute to start packing for a trip. And by ‘waited until the last minute’ I mean ‘decided that I should probably pack at midnight, 6 hours before my flight takes off’. I was leaving to fly 1200 miles away from my husband and son for three days to photograph a wedding of a dear friend.

Solomon had only been nursing once or twice a day for a couple months, and so I knew that he might wean while I was away. So when he called for me at 4 AM I got out of bed with a bit of a heart full of reminiscing.

I picked him up and sat in our rocking chair. He said “Dee Dees!” which, just in case you don’t know toddlerspeak means “Yay for nursing!” I lifted my shirt and as he latched on I started remembering all of our nursing sessions.

The first time I nursed him… there in the candlelit room where I had labored for twenty-two hours, labored with purpose and patience and expectation. The way he had gone right to the breast… he had been born, placed right up onto my chest. He had cried one loud strong cry and then looked around intently for a minute, with eyes that just captured me from the start. And then he turned his head toward me and we started down this long road that is now coming to an end.

I remembered the middle of the night feedings where I would just sit there and marvel over him, keep track of how long since his last feeding, if his diaper was wet or not.

I remembered nursing in all sort of places I never thought I would feel comfortable nursing: the library, the park, restaurants, with company over. I remember just marveling at how beautiful the whole thing was and lamenting the lack of breastfeeding in my own extended family.

I think about how he used to lay there between me and his father and start sleeping nursing… smacking his little lips in his dreams. How I would wake up to that and barely even register offering my breast to him before I went back to snuggled up sleep.

I remembered the first time he signed ‘nurse’ to me and how my heart broke a little at his independence and dependence.

I went back to the nights in the hospital when he had to be hooked up to an IV for hydration. When he wouldn’t eat or drink or cry or do anything except be sick. How he would just latch on and lay there in my arms, not even suckling, just in contact. One hand on my breast caressing me even though he was so worn out his hand was hardly moving. How happy it made me that he could be comforted enough to sleep soundly for a bit.

I thought about him running to me and saying “Dee Dees!” and nursing standing up for 27 seconds and then running back to the slide laughing.

I thought about the first night that he slept through the night and how I woke up startled that the sun was shining.

And I come back to that moment, right before I take off for a weekend trip without him. I try to relish in the moment instead of thinking about schedules and apertures and flight times and whether I packed my toothbrush or not. I kiss his ears, and sing our song, and tell him I love him. And then he signs ‘I love you’ to me because he doesn’t want to unlatch long enough to say it. And my heart just swells up to four times its size and I start crying, only he doesn’t see the tears because he is drifting back to a sweet sleep.

It has been a month since then. A month since he last nursed. I think it is safe to say that he has weaned now. Twenty-two months of my life where I never went more than 24 hours without nursing Solomon. Now he runs up to me and asks for water and a kiss and then runs back to the slide laughing. Soon he’ll be asking me for the keys and then running off to a soccer game. Asking me for my blessing and then running off to get married.

This has been such a beautiful twenty-two months!

Do you have fond memories of nursing? I don’t know anyone else in person who has breastfed past a year or so. Am I crazy to be so emotional about this? Also, how did I live for so long without underwires?

Breastfeeding after ‘Almost’ Weaning

My two-year-old had almost completely weaned himself a few months ago. Then I got laid off from work and he began nursing all over again. Now he demands to nurse every two to four hours and will hold on to my boob saying he “doesn’t want it to fly away.” I put a limit of nursing at nap time and bedtime, but I’m not sure if he will re-wean himself. And, I’d really like to resolve his apparent fear that they are going away, or to somehow find a way for him to console himself with something other than the breasts. American parenting educator Naomi Aldort answers on The Attached Family online magazine: Breasfteeding after ‘Almost’ Weaning.

Quiet is Okay

Early on, I remember being in new groups and being shooed away to “go play with the kids.” I have memories of not really wanting to play with a bunch of kids I didn’t know, but they would look like they were having fun. So I’d force myself, thinking that I might end up having fun too.

From age 8 to 17, I was the first one on and the last one off the school bus. I’d board close to 6:00 a.m., groggy and not quite warmed up for exciting conversation. I wanted to stare out the window and get lost in my own thoughts. Problem was, social convention dictated that one should spend the entire time socializing. Topics of conversation were usually less than profound – gossip, TV shows the night before, mocking teachers’ unusual quirks – none of which interested me in the least.

But again, I forced myself to participate. This time, it was to avoid being labeled as weird, uncool, or whatever I was avoiding. But I think I knew by then that I wouldn’t be having as much fun as the other passengers.

Beyond age 13 or so, I stopped caring about being cool or popular. I remember thinking that once I entered high school, I could just be the quiet, thoughtful one and it would be okay. If I would have been most content parking myself on a bench with a stack of books, I could do that, right?

Wrong. Instead, I discovered that I was being labeled a new thing – snobby. And that was not okay with me. It wasn’t that I was standing around thinking I was better than everyone, or anyone for that matter. It was more that I wasn’t a giggler, a rumormonger, or a hot new TV series watcher, so I didn’t have much to contribute to most conversations in my circles.

To this day, I loathe small talk. There’s no bigger waste of hot air, in my opinion. Asking questions to learn about a new person is one thing – there’s purpose behind that. But meaningless chit-chat about the weather and whatever sports thing just happened? Torture. But through almost 3 decades of forcing myself to engage in the mundane jibber jabber, I’m as good at it as the next guy. I can even fake being social and chatty. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation where you need to bust it out, and I can.

Most people open up once they’re comfortable with someone. I appear to be doing the opposite. I’ll say less and listen more. It looks like I’m withdrawing, but it really means I’m comfortable enough to show you me, quiet and all. I’m lucky that my nearest and dearest get it and accept it, even embrace this about me. Only one person I’ve come across in adulthood has expressed discomfort with my silence, but she has her own issues that I couldn’t even begin to help her with, so I’ve got to just shrug it off.

But enough about me. What does this have to do with parenting?

Remembering my own childhood and observing other parents I’m around now, I think kids get undue pressure to be socially “normal,” whatever the heck that means. If a child would rather go off on his own to take apart his toys instead of joining group games, we start throwing around words like withdrawn and we suspect they might need autism testing. Couldn’t he just be a curious tinkerer? Or the girl who would rather hang out at the library than splash at the pool with her friends – what difference does her choice of activity make?

There’s enough pressure for kids to conform to social and societal pressures without parents adding to it. I want my children to know that Mom and Dad would never want them to pretend to be something they’re not. I hope the freedom to be themselves can start in the home, and that they feel free to be themselves in whatever circles they choose. Judgments, criticisms and all.