Provide Consistent & Loving Care – Page 29

A Foundation of Trust

There are all new considerations and choices to make when you have a child during the Christmas season. Like what kind of gifts to buy, should they be educational? Homemade? Eco friendly? Wood? Plastic? Should they make noise? How much should you spend? Should you give gifts at all? What kind of holiday foundation do you want to lay for your child? And not only holiday but what kind of foundation do you want to lay for gift giving? For being financially responsible? For being a giving person all year round?

And how about honesty? How about things like trust? This is what I ask myself around the holiday season, especially now that I have a child of my own because now, unlike when I was a child and my parents made these choice, these choices are my own and they will form the next years of my child’s life.

I choose honesty and trust because of the Santa Claus issue. Now I know that this is a very personal choice but I will give a swing at it from my perspective.

Every year thousands of children are told the story of Santa Claus though it isn’t told as a story, it is told as truth. There really was a “saint” Nicolas and he really did give children toys but as we all know he did not cover the globe, he surely did not have a pack of reindeer and there were/are no elves working in a shop of eternal Christmas at the North Pole. And yet thousands, millions of children are told this story each year, they are reminded that this is why they must be “good” so that they can receive presents.

Young children are so impressionable and with this “story” we (as Americans) indoctrinate very early. I was blessed as a child to not have this story told to me, I received presents from my loving parents whether I was “good” or not, we didn’t have lots of money but I always received a few nice gifts, I never thought because I didn’t receive as many as some other children that I was not as “good,” I actually pitied children who believed in Santa Claus, I pitied them because their parents were lying to them and I knew it and they did not.

Why I ask myself when I have and am working so hard to build a relationship of trust, a foundation of truth in my child’s life would I, “just for fun” and not to “deprive” my child of a cultural norm, lie to my child, why would I after requesting that he obey me because he trusts me, because I provide consistent and loving care for him day in and day out while being consistently truthful and trustworthy would I destroy that with one little “white” lie?

I have heard parents tell stories of when they had to tell their children the truth, or worse yet when children were sneeringly informed by another child that there is no such thing as Santa Claus. How horrific. Children are then supposed to move on because they are now in on the adult secret that has been kept from them for years, they are now a part of the holiday lie, they are not even allowed to mourn the “death” of a man that they have cherished for years because then they would uncool or less grown up. And somewhere in a child’s heart a seed of doubt is sown. Why did my parents lie to me? Don’t they trust me? Do I trust them? Why should I trust them? What else do they lie to me about? And these doubts become buried in a child’s heart and mind never to be expressed for fear of not being “good” not measuring up to their new grown up status.

I am looking forward to this holiday season. I am looking forward to making cookies, candy and a gingerbread house with my son. I am looking forward to buying and wrapping him presents, of stuffing his stocking. I was thrilled to see his look of delight as we lit up our Christmas tree, it made me smile to hear him say “pretty.” And as I snuggle him as he falls to sleep tonight, his trusting arms wrapped around my neck I know that I could never betray his trust just over a little bit of fun that we won’t miss anyway.

Following the Principles: Provide Consistent and Loving Care

Part 6 of a series of 8:

As we enter the last few (days? weeks?) of our pregnancy with LF#5, I have to admit that one of my biggest, most gigantic fears about having two nurslings under the age of two is “how will I EVER find a sitter for two completely attached, nursing babies AND my high-needs 6 year old???” Not that we have a need to spend a ton of time away from our kids, but having the option for some time together every few months seems like a marriage saving idea!

In the past, with the wide age spacing of the older children, it was really never a big deal. Everyone was always happy to have the older, experienced “helper” tag along to provide invaluable care-giving advice: “Oh, that cry means she wants her blankie! or “By this time, Mom always puts her in the sling!” And even when Bug came along with her higher-needs personality, we had my parents nearby to help out when she was very tiny. After we moved further away, she had her own personal favorite nanny to provide loving care when she was a toddler. When T-Bird arrived and I had to return to work much sooner than I would have liked, we got creative and rearranged our work schedule to ensure that either Sir Hubby or I could always take care of her (and yes, that’s our picture on page 189 of Attached at the Heart!)

TBird and MommaBelly — Saying Goodbye to T-Bird before our class

Since moving away from my parents, our beloved nanny, and my flexible job, I have been a full-time homeschooler, stay-at-home-parent, and very tired pregnant lady! But being at home has also allowed me to forge many wonderful friendships in our new hometown. I adore that we share so many of the same parenting values with our new circle of friends. But, like me, they also have very full lives and busy families. We can get together and have playgroups, and homeschool groups, and ladies nights…but leaving T-Bird with someone other than Sir Hubby or Big Sister Ella has not been territory that I have delved into yet.
Continue reading “Following the Principles: Provide Consistent and Loving Care”

Self-Pity and Me.

This past week has been something of a challenge as mini-man and I try to recuperate from our Texas trip; now we have been joined by this lovely long-lasting cold. We are both miserable.

Yesterday was one of those days where I was looking fondly back on the time when I could be sick by myself, where I could take a long shower, sleep until I couldn’t sleep any more, rest, read a book, maybe watch a movie. And I could do all this alone. Instead I am wiping snot off a clingy child while trying to change another blow-out diaper as he sobs hysterically because… I don’t know. Continue reading “Self-Pity and Me.”

I Never Want to Sleep Alone

“Mommy, do you know why I have all my pets around me when I sleep?”

“Why?”

“Because I never want to sleep alone!”

Why is the idea of sleeping alone such an unpleasant thought for a 4 ½-year-old?

My daughter has slept with someone for over 3/4 of her life. Continue reading “I Never Want to Sleep Alone”

Learning How to Share

My son lay sobbing on the sun-room floor between our daybed and coffee table. If I tried to come near him, he kicked his feet and cried harder. His nanny was leaving and he didn’t want her to go. In fact, she had just told me moments before, “Your son won my heart today. He told me he loved me.”

Cavanaugh is nearly three. He has had a nanny six hours a week for the last three months. Besides the time he spends with his dad and the few months my mom lived in town and saw him a couple of afternoons a week, Cavanaugh is with me and has been with me pretty much all of the time for his entire life. So it was hard for me to watch him cry for someone else.

I’m excited he loves playing with her, loves her even. It helped that I’m reading A Secure Base: Parent-Child Attachment and Healthy Human Development by John Bowlby. I needed the reassurance that his ability to feel so attached to her comes because our relationship has provided such a secure base from which he can explore. But he didn’t even want me in the same room with him.

So I sat fifteen feet away on the living room couch and tried to figure out if it was better for me to face away from him and just sit there so he knew he wasn’t alone or look at him over the back of the couch so I would know when he was ready for me to hold and console him. Continue reading “Learning How to Share”

Separate but Attached

DSCN2261a I slipped into the apartment at 5 pm, kicked off my sandals, and looked around. “Where’s the baby?” I asked my husband.

“She’s in the crib. She cried herself to sleep.”

My heart froze. “She did what?”

He looked as uncomfortable, unhappy, and upset as I felt. “She cried from the moment you left until she finally fell asleep.”

I shouldn’t have left the house, I thought. Without another word, I swept into the bedroom and lifted her out of the crib, holding her tight against my chest and burying my face in her thick, dark hair. “I’m so sorry, little girl,” I whispered, guilt welling up in my chest, my throat tight as I fought back tears, “I’m so, so sorry.”

My husband walked over and wrapped us both in his arms. Our daughter woke up, looking up at us, her dark eyes serious and her brow furrowed for a moment with sleepiness. I felt judged. Then she smiled, raising a hand and pressing her fingers to my lips, and I smiled in return, gently biting her fingertips to make her laugh.

I felt forgiven. But there’s still a lump of guilt in my chest every time I think about those words: She cried herself to sleep.

You see, at seven months old, our daughter is going through a serious separation anxiety phase. A lot of the time, I can’t walk away without her starting to whimper and whine, and as soon as I exit her line of sight those little sounds of discontent grow to full-blown wails. I never try to slip away from her stealthily; I kiss her forehead and tell her, “Mama will be right back,” before I walk away. There are things I need to do — use the washroom, get dressed, pour some coffee, feed the dogs — that are infinitely easier and faster without having to hold her in my arms.

When she wants me, she doesn’t want her Daddy. She doesn’t want her blanket. She doesn’t want her teddy bear, or to listen to music, or to be read to; she wants her Mama. Now. I could be standing on the other side of the gates we use to block off the kitchen, talking to her about what I’m doing, and she’ll start screaming and bashing her hand against the gate because I am not holding her.

But on that day, I had to leave the house. Right now, my husband is unemployed and so am I; I needed to get out and apply to some jobs. I made a plan as to where I’d go, plotted out the most time-efficient route between them, and made certain she was nursed and happy before I left. I knew she’d be upset when I left, but I had no idea that when I walked into the house an hour later, she’d have cried for fifty-five minutes straight as her Daddy tried desperately to comfort her.

She loves her Daddy. Every few days, they leave the house together for awhile and go out to the park, mall, or library for several hours, and she’s giggling when they leave, just as she is when they return. They have a great time together! When we take her to playgroups, she’s the baby wandering everywhere, exploring everything, and greeting everyone, not once looking over her shoulder for her parents. I know she knows we are always here for her.

So why did she cry so relentlessly, exhausting herself, that day? What am I supposed to do when I get a job and I need to leave her at home with her Daddy? This guilt, this sickness in the center of my chest, knowing that she suffered, makes me cringe.

Can someone out there help us?

Unconditional Love

When we were moving a few months ago, I stumbled upon an on old journal from my childhood. I sat down, amidst a pile of boxes, and ignored the surrounding mess to go back to a place that I hadn’t visited in a long time. The pages were laden with my 12 year old scribbles. There were entries about my loves , my friends, and trivial problems, but in between those pages were some hauntingly poignant entries about the abuse that filled my childhood. As I read, it wasn’t the entries describing the latest attack, it was a simple statement, ended with a question, that I think I sent out to the universe:

“I feel like I will never be good enough. Like I will never measure up. I feel like unless I do what they want, and only what they want, they will never love me fully. They call me names, they insult me, they punish me when I stray from their beliefs. Is this how a parent is supposed to treat their child? Is this normal?”

As I grew up, I spent a lot of time asking that question over and over again. It wasn’t until I had my own child and pulled out this journal that I recognized the answer to that question was supposed to be a resounding “NO!” I’d like to say this discovery has ended any self-doubts, but daily, I still ask “Is this enough? Am I enough?” The impact of this emotional abuse as a child has left a permanent mark, even so many years later.

Continue reading “Unconditional Love”

AP Ambassador

Whenever I pack our diaper bag, I include only necessities: two or three diapers, the changing pad, a handful of wipes, and a small notepad and pen. The notepad is a new inclusion, and is totally necessary. Anytime I forget it, I totally regret it. Why? Because every single time I snuggle Sweet Pea into his Moby Wrap at the store, or the park, or the university where Daddy teaches, someone says, “Wow, where’d you get that? My sister/my friend/my daughter could really use one!” This conversation though, is where my dilemma begins, because I am SO SOLD on the benefits of attachment parenting. Continue reading “AP Ambassador”