I kind of hate that phrase. Especially now that Baby A is going through her transition phase starting daycare. And I keep hearing it applied to separation anxiety. Yes, yes, I know, it is part of her developing and awareness of object permanence and realizing something (or someone) is gone. And babies learn the concept of leaving before they learn the concept of returning. So I might never be coming back when I say goodbye. So no wonder she cries.
But I’m suspicious of how often people say “every baby goes through that.” It is such a generalization. Not every baby goes through it in the same way. My daughter screams like her toe got cut off when you take away your wallet she has just been playing with. When she is tired or hungry. She doesn’t just sniffle. She tells it….forcefully.
And she works herself up something fierce, again, mostly when she is tired and hungry.
So when I look for advice on getting her used to a daycare during this sensitive time, I’m tired of just hearing about staying with her for a bit and then saying a quick goodbye. Duh. Really. That is, like, the zero-th order thing we’ve done. I want to hear about more subtle issues and tricks. Like making sure she isn’t too close to needing a nap when I leave. Like maybe inviting the teacher to our apartment for an hour, to help Baby A see us include her in our “pack.”
I get that often there isn’t enough time for parents who need to go back to work to do a long transition period, but Baby A’s nights mirror her days. And let me tell you, you’d much rather she had a day without much screaming. Because when night comes,…
And I have the time to make this a slow transition. To try out a few different things each time we go, to watch her and judge if I’m better leaving before hand washing and the snack, or after the song.
I don’t doubt that almost all children go through a stage of separation anxiety. And that almost all of them (including my daughter) will cry when I leave her at daycare. I just wish there was a more rich discussion on-line or in books (yes, I know I promised to stop reading those) about the variety of the separation anxiety experience. Instead, it feels like “they all go through it, so drop them off, short goodbye, and leave fast and distract yourself quickly so you don’t feel so guilty.”
Sorry. That doesn’t work for me. I want to stay, just around the corner, to hear how long and how strong she cries. Sure it makes it harder on me, but I’m the adult. I can manage my anxiety about it. I want to be able to judge how to proceed with the rest of the day once I pick her up, whether to try a different phase to leave her, and hear with my own ears, how this departure went. I’m glad when the teacher can tell me she is doing relatively well, compared to other kids. It is an important piece of information. But I need to know, on my own scale, how she did, too.
At this point, she cried loud and strong and then proceeded to explosively poo herself two days in a row when I left. Today, she got a teeny nap before we left for daycare, and the teacher and I decided in the moment that I should leave while they were going for handwashing, a time when Baby A gets held in the teacher’s arms and is involved in a change of tasks and a novel environment. And she still cried, but not so strongly. It took 1 minute instead of 5 for her to calm down.
As I sit here in the daycare office, I can once again hear her cry, but it is coming from the bathroom. She isn’t so fond of changing tables right now, so I know these are tears that might still be there even if I was there. And I feel better. We’re both going to do okay here.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The practice baby
We call baby A “monkey,” but technically, the nickname is Monkey #2. That is because the pupper, our beloved Heeler mix, who we have had for 5 ½ years is the original “monkey,” now Monkey #1.
We used to call Monkey #1 our “practice baby,” but I was a bit hesitant to say that around parents when we still didn’t have kids. I thought that they might get offended at us comparing a dog to a baby. I figured I’d stop doing it once we had a child because I would realize that the two are so different, and the relationship between us and a dog was nothing like that between us and baby A.
But that isn’t true. The pupper was totally a practice baby in some really great ways. When we first moved to Switzerland, we already had to limit going out a bit since we don’t leave the dog in the crate for more than 4-5 hours. That is just our rule, that if we want to have a dog we want to not just put her away more often than not. If we are to have a dog, our lives can change, and some things can get a bit harder in accommodating her because she makes other things in our lives so much better. We laugh more with her antics, we definitely see the outdoors more and spend more time walking with her. All of this is good. And when one of us has gone away for the night, the other one had a snuggle buddy if we needed one.
We also learned to use positive reinforcement, like time outs, to discipline her, and that having a “well-behaved” dog was more about consistency with rules than about punishment. Time-outs for the dog, a quick “uh-oh!” and 15-30 seconds in the crate, followed by a try-again, are a common tool in our house.
So when baby A arrived, some things were already familiar to us. Less going out – already been there. Being okay with a new member of the family changing some of what we can do – not so new. Knowing that some things are just due to temperament, be it a dog that wants to destroy all cats or a baby who forcefully protests what she does not like. And how I feel leaving Baby A at her new daycare – not too different from how I felt the first time the Pupper walked away led by her daycare person on her leash. I know to look for smiles and tail wags to help me know that they are both ok with other people.
And every day, we realize how lucky we are to have such a great dog. She is still herself, even after so many months of being a bit ignored while Baby A cried and didn’t sleep. She still rolls on her back and makes happy growling sounds, she still tries to make off with a plastic baby toy once in a while, she still goes to her crate for our dinnertime. But she is also amazingly patient with Baby A. She has never once growled or nipped at her. She has never given her an “I’m going to eat your face while you sleep” look. She lets her come and pinch her fur, and will even put up with a few grabs of her paw. And then, when she has had enough, she gets up, usually from the comfort of a dog bed, and just goes somewhere else in the apartment. And Baby A, now that she has realized we actually have a dog (which happened around month 5), is enamored. She loves watching the dog come in from a walk or daycare. She laughs when the dog goes through our legs to get some extra petting time. And now she tries to do that, too - instead of going over my knees if they are bent, she goes under.
They are going to be friends. It’s great.
We used to call Monkey #1 our “practice baby,” but I was a bit hesitant to say that around parents when we still didn’t have kids. I thought that they might get offended at us comparing a dog to a baby. I figured I’d stop doing it once we had a child because I would realize that the two are so different, and the relationship between us and a dog was nothing like that between us and baby A.
But that isn’t true. The pupper was totally a practice baby in some really great ways. When we first moved to Switzerland, we already had to limit going out a bit since we don’t leave the dog in the crate for more than 4-5 hours. That is just our rule, that if we want to have a dog we want to not just put her away more often than not. If we are to have a dog, our lives can change, and some things can get a bit harder in accommodating her because she makes other things in our lives so much better. We laugh more with her antics, we definitely see the outdoors more and spend more time walking with her. All of this is good. And when one of us has gone away for the night, the other one had a snuggle buddy if we needed one.
We also learned to use positive reinforcement, like time outs, to discipline her, and that having a “well-behaved” dog was more about consistency with rules than about punishment. Time-outs for the dog, a quick “uh-oh!” and 15-30 seconds in the crate, followed by a try-again, are a common tool in our house.
So when baby A arrived, some things were already familiar to us. Less going out – already been there. Being okay with a new member of the family changing some of what we can do – not so new. Knowing that some things are just due to temperament, be it a dog that wants to destroy all cats or a baby who forcefully protests what she does not like. And how I feel leaving Baby A at her new daycare – not too different from how I felt the first time the Pupper walked away led by her daycare person on her leash. I know to look for smiles and tail wags to help me know that they are both ok with other people.
And every day, we realize how lucky we are to have such a great dog. She is still herself, even after so many months of being a bit ignored while Baby A cried and didn’t sleep. She still rolls on her back and makes happy growling sounds, she still tries to make off with a plastic baby toy once in a while, she still goes to her crate for our dinnertime. But she is also amazingly patient with Baby A. She has never once growled or nipped at her. She has never given her an “I’m going to eat your face while you sleep” look. She lets her come and pinch her fur, and will even put up with a few grabs of her paw. And then, when she has had enough, she gets up, usually from the comfort of a dog bed, and just goes somewhere else in the apartment. And Baby A, now that she has realized we actually have a dog (which happened around month 5), is enamored. She loves watching the dog come in from a walk or daycare. She laughs when the dog goes through our legs to get some extra petting time. And now she tries to do that, too - instead of going over my knees if they are bent, she goes under.
They are going to be friends. It’s great.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Baby jeans
I ordered some baby clothes for the coming fall and winter for Baby A from the Gap and Old Navy. For some reason, of all the places they ship internationally, only Switzerland and Turkey are on the Europe list. I won't ask why, I'll just count myself lucky.
I just wanted some warmer pants and tops and some long leg pajamas. I'm not a bit fan of baby jeans. Although there was a really cute denim overalls. If they are soft, fine. But no baby needs to have its movement restricted by hard fabrics. (Ok, I may need to rethink my philosophy here, because the idea of slowing this kid down is tempting...)
There I was, on the baby girl "pants" page - because god forbid we let babies all dress without reference to their sex - and there were as many jeans for babies as I remember there being for women in the store! Really? Sure, light wash and dark wash, whatever. But flare vs. skinny vs. boot cut? Really? To go with the baby stilettos they sell? C'mon, like your kid doesn't have enough expectations from you to live up to already.
It makes the Saturday Night Live "baby thong" commercial not so funny anymore. It was funny when it was outrageous. But, what is the point of baby skinny jeans if you've got that big diaper bulge? Best get some thongs to go with it.
Yeah, girl/boy differences are all biological and we have nothing to do with teaching them how to act. It makes me want to keep Baby A in yellows and greens and not tell people on the tram if she is a girl or boy.
I just wanted some warmer pants and tops and some long leg pajamas. I'm not a bit fan of baby jeans. Although there was a really cute denim overalls. If they are soft, fine. But no baby needs to have its movement restricted by hard fabrics. (Ok, I may need to rethink my philosophy here, because the idea of slowing this kid down is tempting...)
There I was, on the baby girl "pants" page - because god forbid we let babies all dress without reference to their sex - and there were as many jeans for babies as I remember there being for women in the store! Really? Sure, light wash and dark wash, whatever. But flare vs. skinny vs. boot cut? Really? To go with the baby stilettos they sell? C'mon, like your kid doesn't have enough expectations from you to live up to already.
It makes the Saturday Night Live "baby thong" commercial not so funny anymore. It was funny when it was outrageous. But, what is the point of baby skinny jeans if you've got that big diaper bulge? Best get some thongs to go with it.
Yeah, girl/boy differences are all biological and we have nothing to do with teaching them how to act. It makes me want to keep Baby A in yellows and greens and not tell people on the tram if she is a girl or boy.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
You've never met a transcendental equation before, have you?
Baby A is doing better.
And now I know what normal parenting tired feels like. I still don't quite get enough sleep. She's practically walking without help, and the child does...not...stop. I call her my force of nature. Every waking moment is spent upright, engaged, moving, testing, eating, pulling, screaming or babbling. So I get the tired thing.
But this tired has nothing whatsoever to say to the tired of the first 5 months. They don't talk, they don't speak the same language, and they probably have totally different life goals. That tired was hellish. It made me nauseous and still does when I think back to it. It was in-human. And it was not what "all parents go through."
And just as with many situations we find ourselves in, especially those which are not common among people but are difficult, once you've been there, you can usually tell other people who have been there, too. You start to tell them your story and very quickly get "oh my god, I know!" or "Yes, that was really hard!" Phrases like that. People who have been through some other version of that stage of life, on the other hand, seem to have a very different reaction.
It is as if they have lost faith in other people's different experiences. If they had an easy time with their baby and breastfeeding, then what are you doing stopping at 4 months? If their kid sleeps anywhere and everywhere, maybe you're just too sensitive when it comes to your kid and should stop spoiling them. And if they just solved for "x" by isolating it one one side of an equation, then what the hell are you doing having such a hard time with your "transcen"-whatever? See, in calculus, just after I got the hang of solving for "x", I met the transcendental equation. Try solving for "x" in:
x = cos(x)
Good luck with the dividing both sides by...anything. You solve it graphically, or with Newton's method. But someone who hasn't gone through it before will say very different things about an equation like that than someone who has. Just like with babies, marriage, depression, moving to another country, etc.
I know what it is like to try getting pregnant for many years. But, I have no idea what it is like to have had a miscarriage. Or to go through a divorce. And that means that I don't have the experiences of those things in context. And have no business judging someone else going through them. I know empathy is about putting yourself in someone else's shoes, but I think we've forgotten along the way that we can't actually do it.
Well, we can put ourselves as we are, with only our experiences, in those shoes. But that is completely different from actually going through those things. So we need to trust the people going through them when they say it is hard, or say something else about the process that we find hard to believe.
Can I tell you how relieved and affirmed I felt the first time I talked with another mom with a sleepless baby? About how hard it was. How depressing. We had so many experiences in common that it suddenly felt like a situation I was in and not so much like my lack of fortitude or calm. I mean, we kept saying "I know!" and "Yes, yes, yes" to each others stories, down to the every third day showers. Not "lucky if you shower by 4pm" but "negotiating which spouse showers that day based on who is leaving the house."
The context of the situations in which people suffer, great or small suffering, is everything. But we forget this, and wind up judging the people for failing to sufficiently handle a situation we have never been in. Instead of assuming that the situation is hard and that we would act almost the same way if it was us. If you can't solve for "x" by dividing or multiplying, you must not be very smart.
And now I know what normal parenting tired feels like. I still don't quite get enough sleep. She's practically walking without help, and the child does...not...stop. I call her my force of nature. Every waking moment is spent upright, engaged, moving, testing, eating, pulling, screaming or babbling. So I get the tired thing.
But this tired has nothing whatsoever to say to the tired of the first 5 months. They don't talk, they don't speak the same language, and they probably have totally different life goals. That tired was hellish. It made me nauseous and still does when I think back to it. It was in-human. And it was not what "all parents go through."
And just as with many situations we find ourselves in, especially those which are not common among people but are difficult, once you've been there, you can usually tell other people who have been there, too. You start to tell them your story and very quickly get "oh my god, I know!" or "Yes, that was really hard!" Phrases like that. People who have been through some other version of that stage of life, on the other hand, seem to have a very different reaction.
It is as if they have lost faith in other people's different experiences. If they had an easy time with their baby and breastfeeding, then what are you doing stopping at 4 months? If their kid sleeps anywhere and everywhere, maybe you're just too sensitive when it comes to your kid and should stop spoiling them. And if they just solved for "x" by isolating it one one side of an equation, then what the hell are you doing having such a hard time with your "transcen"-whatever? See, in calculus, just after I got the hang of solving for "x", I met the transcendental equation. Try solving for "x" in:
x = cos(x)
Good luck with the dividing both sides by...anything. You solve it graphically, or with Newton's method. But someone who hasn't gone through it before will say very different things about an equation like that than someone who has. Just like with babies, marriage, depression, moving to another country, etc.
I know what it is like to try getting pregnant for many years. But, I have no idea what it is like to have had a miscarriage. Or to go through a divorce. And that means that I don't have the experiences of those things in context. And have no business judging someone else going through them. I know empathy is about putting yourself in someone else's shoes, but I think we've forgotten along the way that we can't actually do it.
Well, we can put ourselves as we are, with only our experiences, in those shoes. But that is completely different from actually going through those things. So we need to trust the people going through them when they say it is hard, or say something else about the process that we find hard to believe.
Can I tell you how relieved and affirmed I felt the first time I talked with another mom with a sleepless baby? About how hard it was. How depressing. We had so many experiences in common that it suddenly felt like a situation I was in and not so much like my lack of fortitude or calm. I mean, we kept saying "I know!" and "Yes, yes, yes" to each others stories, down to the every third day showers. Not "lucky if you shower by 4pm" but "negotiating which spouse showers that day based on who is leaving the house."
The context of the situations in which people suffer, great or small suffering, is everything. But we forget this, and wind up judging the people for failing to sufficiently handle a situation we have never been in. Instead of assuming that the situation is hard and that we would act almost the same way if it was us. If you can't solve for "x" by dividing or multiplying, you must not be very smart.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
It's hot. Damn hot. Like, hot hot.
Yesterday was another scorcher. Okay, it was 90 F and sort of dry, but remember, no A/C. A few little table fans. And the bad idea of having the apartment cleaned in the afternoon.
This meant that me and the beibis had to go elsewhere for 3 hours. We went down. First to our little village center to hang out in the grocery store while I returned all the PET bottles. So, actually, the supermarkets and some buses have A/C. The emergency solution is to either go food shopping for 4 hours straight, or just ride a bus back and forth along its line.
We did neither. Instead we kept heading down, to the river, and then to a fake island in the river, where big trees are planted, a baby swim area calls to little feet and bottoms of all ages, a playground, and a whole bunch of grass. Oh, and stairs. That lead into the fast flowing river. For swimmers.
We met up with a few friends, tried our best to sample all leaves, sticks and dirt within reach, took a power nap way too late in the day. And when M arrived from his day in the center of town, he and I traded off baby duty to go jump in the river a few times each.
Well, we walked down the stairs into the river and joined the floating...others (in their speedos and bikinis, board shorts, swim trunks, one-pieces). I was going to say "floating masses" but something about changing lots of diapers these last many months makes that term sound gross. We then aimed for the stairs near the rope that is meant to catch you, and climbed out. Very civilized. Even better, very cool water.
It was still pretty hot and sunny when we got home around 6pm, but the daily storm rolled in around 9pm and things cooled off nicely.
See? Sometimes we have good days.
This meant that me and the beibis had to go elsewhere for 3 hours. We went down. First to our little village center to hang out in the grocery store while I returned all the PET bottles. So, actually, the supermarkets and some buses have A/C. The emergency solution is to either go food shopping for 4 hours straight, or just ride a bus back and forth along its line.
We did neither. Instead we kept heading down, to the river, and then to a fake island in the river, where big trees are planted, a baby swim area calls to little feet and bottoms of all ages, a playground, and a whole bunch of grass. Oh, and stairs. That lead into the fast flowing river. For swimmers.
We met up with a few friends, tried our best to sample all leaves, sticks and dirt within reach, took a power nap way too late in the day. And when M arrived from his day in the center of town, he and I traded off baby duty to go jump in the river a few times each.
Well, we walked down the stairs into the river and joined the floating...others (in their speedos and bikinis, board shorts, swim trunks, one-pieces). I was going to say "floating masses" but something about changing lots of diapers these last many months makes that term sound gross. We then aimed for the stairs near the rope that is meant to catch you, and climbed out. Very civilized. Even better, very cool water.
It was still pretty hot and sunny when we got home around 6pm, but the daily storm rolled in around 9pm and things cooled off nicely.
See? Sometimes we have good days.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Christmas egg cometh
Baby A was barely born by the time Christmas came around this year.
I managed to find the ornaments and put all the dyed eggs I've made over the years on the tree that a friend so wonderfully brought us. We were running on empty already at that point. It was amazing to have a tree, with lights and baubles no less.
The eggs I'd made special for M one year were up there. As were a few I'd kept from the year I made egg ornaments for family presents.
But no special egg for Baby A.
Easter came and went. Still, we were running on empty. I don't even know if we got around to eating some ham or anything. We definitely didn't have any new dyed eggs, and I didn't do my yearly egg decorating party.
So here is it, mid-July, and I finally made it. I got un-dated eggs from the farmer's market this weekend, and pulled out the two nicest ones to work on. I've had the design in mind for months, now. Ever since I realized I hadn't gotten to make anything for my daughter yet. It will only require one dye color (in contrast to the usual 10 I mix up from the Ukranian on-line store), black. It will be based on one of her first loves as a newborn, the IKEA pillow case we bought last year.
I already penciled in the design and even got all the wax on it. I just need to mix up a jar of black, dip it, melt off the wax, and hope the egg survives the evacuation procedure. A bit of shellac and done.
It may still take me months to do this last bit. Okay, the emptying needs to happen in the next few days. I'm talking about the finishing touches of shellac and of a string. But by next Christmas, Baby A will have her "baby's first Christmas" egg, on her second Christmas. Maybe I'll even make a second one by then.
Doubt it.
Friday, July 9, 2010
The 80s are coming, the 80s are coming!
We live in Europe. Which means we have radiators and no central cooling mechanisms of any sort in the apartment. No A/C or fan. Just two, sort of small table fans.
So when the forecast for the city is close to 90 F, it is time to open all the windows in the cool hours of the morning (thank heavens we live in a dry enough place that it does get chilly at night in summer), and then around 10am, to go around closing windows, lowering the heavy metal blinds, and the balcony umbrella. The fans will be rallying in whichever room we are in. And if we don't make it out to get a baby pool this morning, the rectangular pyrex baking dish will once again be on water splashing duty.
In most buildings, though, it really isn't the hell that it would be in the US. Especially the really old, stone buildings. Unfortunately, we do not live in one such building where it stays 70 F year round. But it is nice to have less frozen air being blown around in general. Even Starbucks feels stuffy when you walk in from the heat, but by the time you have your drink, you realize they just have the A/C on low. So maybe it is 75 F in there compared to 88 F outside. It does make a difference. And you don't need to bring a parka with you to the grocery store.
I think Baby A knows about the impending heat. She is already in her second hour of sleep for an early morning nap. Pretty uncommon. Maybe she'll grace me with another long one later, but maybe not.
I've got my lightest summer dress on.
And I'm wishing we weren't on such a high floor. I bet you those ground floor apartments are all cool and damp and dark.
Oh well, we can always just roll the crib into the cool tile foyer downstairs tonight and all sleep there. Or maybe we'll unload all the junk in the storage space BACK into the apartment and sleep THERE. Yeah. We'll survive.
So when the forecast for the city is close to 90 F, it is time to open all the windows in the cool hours of the morning (thank heavens we live in a dry enough place that it does get chilly at night in summer), and then around 10am, to go around closing windows, lowering the heavy metal blinds, and the balcony umbrella. The fans will be rallying in whichever room we are in. And if we don't make it out to get a baby pool this morning, the rectangular pyrex baking dish will once again be on water splashing duty.
In most buildings, though, it really isn't the hell that it would be in the US. Especially the really old, stone buildings. Unfortunately, we do not live in one such building where it stays 70 F year round. But it is nice to have less frozen air being blown around in general. Even Starbucks feels stuffy when you walk in from the heat, but by the time you have your drink, you realize they just have the A/C on low. So maybe it is 75 F in there compared to 88 F outside. It does make a difference. And you don't need to bring a parka with you to the grocery store.
I think Baby A knows about the impending heat. She is already in her second hour of sleep for an early morning nap. Pretty uncommon. Maybe she'll grace me with another long one later, but maybe not.
I've got my lightest summer dress on.
And I'm wishing we weren't on such a high floor. I bet you those ground floor apartments are all cool and damp and dark.
Oh well, we can always just roll the crib into the cool tile foyer downstairs tonight and all sleep there. Or maybe we'll unload all the junk in the storage space BACK into the apartment and sleep THERE. Yeah. We'll survive.
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