attachment parenting--!? a semi-rant.

So I was thinking (insert applause here)... wtf is up with the term "attachment parenting"?  Why is it that those mothers who carry their baby around 24/7, have a "family bed" and nurse until the age of 3 get to label themselves as those that practice "attachment parenting".  I mean, I wore Cora a lot when she was little - mostly because it was easier to do things with two hands than one hand or no hands.  And, I nursed for a bit, and I pumped even more.  I also brought Cora into my bed at times and still do when I just need to sleep and can't deal with the screaming.  But, I also fed her formula, and didn't practice "baby led weaning".  I prefer her in her crib, and I like that now I don't have to carry her around because you know what - she's heavy.  But, I would still say I'm "attached" to her.   If you google attachment parenting you'll find a website called attachment parenting international.  You'll also find a whole bunch of other stuff and you'll often see the name Dr. Sears alongside of attachment parenting.  In theory, attachment parenting is what we all strive to do..

    

"Per Dr. Sears' theory of attachment parenting (AP), proponents such as the API attempt to foster a secure bond with their children by promoting eight principles which are identified as goals for parents to strive for. These eight principles are:

1. Preparation for Pregnancy, Birth and Parenting
2. Feed with Love and Respect
3. Respond with Sensitivity
4. Use Nurturing Touch
5. Ensure Safe Sleep, Physically and Emotionally
6. Provide Consistent Loving Care
7. Practice Positive Discipline
   
8. Strive for Balance in Personal and Family Life"

Now, who would argue any of this?  Probably no one.  However, the way these principles are interpreted is where the issue, in my eyes, lies.

Principle 2.) Feed with Love and Respect.  First of all, I'm all for breastfeeding - yay - go breastfeeding!  However, I wouldn't judge someone who uses formula.  I used formula.  I used bottles.  Breastfeeding isn't easy and I do not think that a baby who is bottle and formula fed will have any less connection to their mother.  Some interpret principle 2 basically saying that breast is best and anything less could be detrimental.  Please, that's bullsh*t.

Now, I don't really want to break all of these down for you because for one, that's time consuming, and secondly, you can google and read for yourself just as easily (and possibly less annoyingly!)  But here's what I'll say.  I hate the whole "attachment parenting" thing.  I hate that it's a "method", I hate that it's an international group!! (wtf is up with THAT!?)  I hate that if you don't wear your baby in a sling around the clock and not quit your job and life to stay home and not nurse around the clock until baby is 3 and not have a family bed until your kids are in high school.. that you aren't defined as a parent who is attached.  WTF is up with this idea?  I'm sorry, Dr. Sears, but you suck for creating some exclusive club and coining the phrase "attachment parenting".  Because you know what?  I do all of those 8 things as best as I can.  Who wouldn't?  Who would ever argue with "use nurturing touch" or "provide consistent loving care"; however, a lot of us (maybe?) wouldn't say we practice "attachment parenting" because sadly, it's become this group of moms pioneered by Mayim Bialik (aka Blossom), and they feel the need to interpret these 8 principles in such a way that makes the rest of us non-baby-wearers feel excluded.  Am I wrong?  Maybe, I am. But, maybe I'm not.  If you've ever been judged because you didn't breastfeed long enough, or you put your kid in daycare, or HEAVEN FORBID, you let them cry in their freakin' crib, then I guess you're part of my club.. the club of parents who are attached, and agree with those 8 principles and are comfortable enough to define them in the way that makes sense to their own family.

The point of this whole blog (if there is one?) is that I hate exclusive clubs.  I can't stand people who feel the need to define themselves as a certain type of person.  I can't stand judgmental moms who like to shove their beliefs in others' faces and try to convince them that their way is the best way and only way that baby will be nourished to their full potential.  I don't label myself.  I just do the best I can.  At times that means I wear Cora, and at times that means she's in the stroller.  Sometimes she sits on my lap, and sometimes I beg anyone around to take her.  I nursed/pumped for 8ish months, and I also supplemented with formula from early on and had to exclusively formula feed after the pumping.  I used to sleep with Cora in my bed a lot, and then I put her in her crib and let her cry it out.  And I loved the results it yielded.  I don't let Cora drink juice regularly, but sometimes I let her eat a cookie or ice cream.  I made her baby food, but sometimes I fed her from a jar.  I bathe her, I dress her, I change her diapers... but most importantly?  I love her.  I love her more than life itself and would do anything for her.  And you know what?  Dr. Sears, or anyone who is a member of "attachment parenting international" isn't going to tell me I'm not an attached parent practicing those 8 principles.  Because I am.  I'm practicing them in my own damn way.  And if you don't like it or agree, I don't really care.  Because I do what I want to do and I don't need to put myself in a type or class or defined group.  You know what group I'm in?  I'm in the group who loves their baby, is exhausted, is stressed, is happy, is scared, is worn out, and is trying to do the best job they can.  I'm a mom - an attached mom - and no one can tell me any different.

 

family bed night 3: will this ever end?

I love Cora. I love her dearly. That being said, I want my bed back.

Cora has been as miserable as it gets lately. Molars ripping through her gums, combined with the virus of the century, and she's about as pleasant as ... well, I can't think of a good analogy, so just fill in your own version of pain. Yes, it's THAT bad.

So little miss miserable has been ending up in my bed nightly because it seems the only way we all will get some sleep. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not anti family-bed-people; it's just not for me. I like to lay on my stomach, I like to sprawl out, I like to pull the covers up to my ears sometimes, I like to check Facebook at 3:00am when I get up to pee - all of which are not conducive to sharing a bed with a toddler. First of all, I still worry about accidentally smooshing or smothering her, and secondly, getting up to pee without disturbing her is like an escape act, and don't even get me started on trying to check Facebook on my phone! (there needs to be an even dimmer option, apple. Just sayin'!)

So yeah, there was a time in my past when I loved to snuggle Cora in bed and wanted nothing more than to have her near me. Now? I just want my bed back. So, precious molars that are ripping through my baby girl's gums, hurry the hell up so we can all get some sleep around here! Thanks, an empty-bed-loving-mama.

just look at those chompers!

all you need is love.

I need to focus on the positives because today has unveiled some horrendous news.  Everyone reading this knows what I'm talking about and I can't even bear what has happened.  Right now mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents and more are sobbing with broken hearts.  I'm home and trying to watch Irvin Berlin's White Christmas to distract me while I write this and attempt to process my thoughts.

Earlier I was shocked.  I felt sick.  I was horrified.  I couldn't listen to the radio.  Then I listened a bit more.  I read countless Facebook statuses.  I contributed statuses.  I played with Cora.  I hugged and kissed her all night and told her I loved her countless times.  I put her to bed.  I cried. 

And then I took a few breaths and thought about what I do in this world, this life, this universe.  I work for the YMCA.  An organization that is out there every day trying to nourish and help communities, families and children.  I work in the world of afterschool programming.  I help provide enriching, nourishing, fun and safe places for children to be after school lets out, and before their parent can pick them up.   I know I'm not saving the world, but after a day like today, I need to look at the positives.  I need to focus, focus, focus.  Because there are bigger things out there to worry about.  Bigger things than a 14 month old's tantrums.  Today?  I'm thankful I have a 14 month old who can throw a tantrum.

I'm thankful for a lot today, and one of the things I'm thankful for is that I'm employed by an organization whose motto is "Nurturing the potential in every child.  Promoting healthy living.  Fostering a sense of social responsibility."  I'm focused on living by this every day.

Sadly, I have no words of wisdom for you as you try to process what has happened today.  My only thoughts to share are to breathe deep, remember to love yourself and those around you and focus on those things that are positive in your own world for you never know when things can suddenly turn dark.  As Helen Keller said, "Keep your face to the sun and you will never see the shadows."

And lastly, the Beatles said it best when they said  "All you need is love."

it's an aww-gag-worthy post. don't say I didn't warn you.

okay, let me take a moment from my recent vent-a-thon and share a sweet little tender thing that happened to me this evening.  I was out to dinner with my sister and Cora.  It went fine.  Cora ate some unhealthy food and ended with pudding and ice cream.  A year ago I would've screamed at you if you even walked by Cora with an ice cream cone.  Now? (on seldom occasions) I shovel it into her face.  After all, her gums are insanely swollen and I kinda wanted to eat some cookies n' cream too, so it's only fair that I let her have some.  Also, I just really want her to go to bed nice and full tonight so that she might actually sleep until morning rather than her recent middle-of-the-night scream fests.  So, yeah, we were out to dinner and I was shoveling pudding and ice cream into Cora's face.  I was randomly singing with her (something I do without even thinking because as a mother you become certifiably crazy).  I actually was afraid our neighbors in the restaurant were judging the fact that I was giving my daughter this food, but I thought to myself "well, you don't know how swollen her gums are... and you aren't up with her for 2 hours in the night...!"  My psychoses were in full effect.

Okay, so dinner ends and I clean her up and my sister scoops her up to carry her and we start to head toward the counter to pay... and what happens?  Well, what came next was a DJ-screeching-the-records-followed-by-silence kind of moment.  The woman who was sitting near us looks at me and says (okay, insert "awwww-gag-worthy-moment" here) "You're an amazing mom."  I was shocked.  I was surprised.  Both, pleasantly, but still caught off guard nonetheless.  I looked at her dead on and said a simple, yet heartfelt, thank you.  She followed up with "Really, it was a pleasure."  I walked away stunned and nearly welling up.  I've never had a stranger stop me and tell me I'm a good mom.  My family has said it, friends have said it, but it's always in passing or something.  This woman went out of her way (in my mind) to tell me.  And it was nice and kind and made me really stop and think about it.  It made me wonder why does it take a stranger at a restaurant who just watched you shove ice cream in your kids' face to make you recognize that you're a good mother?  I truly stopped tonight and wondered this.  And no, I'm not saying this for an outpouring of "awww, of course you're a good mom!"  I sincerely wondered.  Not long ago I actually asked my sister for her honesty about this.  I flat out said "Do you think I'm a good mom?"  And she probably said yes, but to me, this random acknowledgement sort of meant more.  It was unsolicited, unexpected and unnecessary.  But you know what?  I'm so grateful.  I'm so grateful that this lady took the moment to tell me that.  She made me stop and think about who I am as a mother and what I do.  I always try hard.  I love Cora to death (recent posts aside) and I really do always want to do what is best for her.  It's kind of a shame that it took a random stranger to help me acknowledge that maybe I am in fact a good mother.  So anyway, that was my mushy moment of the day.  An unexpected fuzzy heart moment at a chinese food buffet.  I told you the food was unhealthy.

It's like that Steven King Book

You know the one: Misery.  Now, I'm not going to pretend I read it.  I didn't.  But, I saw the movie.  The movie where Kathy Bates holds Paul Sheldon (fictional character name... what's his real name?) hostage and then sprinkles lighter fluid on his bed and acts like a psycho and breaks his ankles with a sledgehammer and a 4 x 4 block of wood.

That's how Marty and I felt last night.

I mean, Cora wasn't sprinkling lighter fluid on us, but she was screaming and miserable and as a result so were we.  All I have to say is teeth suck.  Don't get me wrong, teeth are good and important and help you chew your food.  But getting them sucks.  The result of this will be more teeth for Cora to bite me with.  She has done a few "I'm about to bite you" moments.  Never sunken teeth all the way in...  but, now I wonder if her master plan is to wait until these suckers come in.

Damn, that girl is smart.

14 months? wtf

this always happens.  I say I'm going to write, blog, journal, scrapbook, etc and then I do nothing.  Well, I guess I wouldn't say nothing.  I have after all been raising a baby for the past 14 months, yes folks, you heard me: 14 months.  I know, I used to hate people who said "my baby is 22 months old!" It's like, no, he's not. He's 2.  But now? I kinda get it.  It's like, no, Cora isn't a year old - she's 14 months, actually nearly 15 months.  And you know why I know?  Because I've survived them.  She's not a year damnit, she's 15 LONG months old - and I'm still alive.  And so is she, and so that's good.  So yeah, what have I been up to since the last time I wrote?  (juice fast aside - yeah, clearly that didn't take).  I've changed 9 million diapers, made 4 billion bottles, taught Cora 5 signs (yes, sign language) and I've started a job and moved.  No biggie, right?  My biggest accomplishment though?? Putting Cora in daycare.  I was terrified about this, like totally horrified.  I cried.  I worried.  I cried some more and then I looked at two places.  In NH you don't have the millions of options you have in Boston.  The first place seemed okay - until I walked into what would be Cora's room and there sat a lonely snot-covered toddler eating his food with his back to the teachers.  My insides screamed.  The mother in me was sad and mad.  The previous early ed teacher in me was noticing licensing violations left and right and both sides of my brain did all they could to keep my mouth from blurting out "WHAT IF HE WERE CHOKING!? YOU WOULDN'T EVEN KNOW!  CHOKING IS SILENT!"  So, I acted nice during the rest of the tour and then had a panic attack when we went outside.  I cried again.  What if I had to send Cora to the school where kids are covered in snot and are potentially choking on their homemade meatballs?!  I couldn't do it.  Then we went to the next place and it was like, yeah, this is what it's supposed to be like.  Clean floors, clean faces, laminated decor and a playground to die for.  I was sold.  And so yeah, what was once my nightmare is now my norm.  And you know what?  Cora is surviving and actually liking daycare because when I pick her up, sometimes she runs away and tries to climb on the foam things or stand on the oven.  So, clearly, she must like it.

Did I mention we moved and I started a new job?  The move was easy all things considered.  The job?  I was welcomed the same way you'd open your home to Hannibal Lector.  It sucked.  But then the girl who was super b*tchy quit, and now?  My job is pretty sweet.  But, I don't want to say too much good stuff because then tomorrow I'll end up crying at my desk miserable.  I believe in jinxes!  But the perks?  I have a computer, a desk (complete with photos of Cora) and access to as much free coffee as I want.  It's a dream come true.

Now you want to hear about Cora?  Okay.  She's doing well - like, she really is.  She's wicked funny and I wanna squeeze her face off most days.  She's been walking since 11 months and having full fledged tantrums soon after.  She legit thinks shes 3 or like 15.  She screams, becomes dead weight, falls to the ground and dramatically holds her face with her hands.  I swear she's practicing for an emmy (or whatever award you give out for acting).  And like, most times I can handle it and I just laugh at her or say, like, all calmly "That's fine, have your tantrum on the ground if you want.."  I try to be all cool and nonchalant, but this past weekend?  I almost lost my sh*t.  Like seriously, I was on the brink of a breakdown.  Moments away from selling Cora to a gypsy or on ebay.  And you think I'm kidding - but I'm not.  I was texting all kinds of scary curse words to Marty and he was all like "woah. take it easy. breathe." and I was all like "No! F$%#@* SHE'S ALL YOURS WHEN YOU GET HOME FROM WORK!"  We work opposite hours so most of the time we are like single parents.  It's weird.  So yeah, Cora was horrible and I hated her.  I mean, I still loved her, but I hated her.  And, she had every right to be miserable.  She had a fever, croup, a dripping nose and then it turns out she's probably going to have like 10 more teeth because her gums are all puffy and swollen.   And she can't tell me what's wrong or swear or go get ice cream and eat it to feel better.  So, part of me feels bad.  But part of me still hated her.  Don't judge me - sometimes you hate your babies, too.  And if you've never had a baby, but some day you do... trust me, you'll hate them at times.  So, anyway, now she's feeling much better and so I love her again and wanna squeeze her face off again.  Or bite her thighs or bite her bum.  She's wicked cute after all.

And so now I'll wrap this up because it's wicked late and I need to get up early and go to work and drink my free coffee.