parenting circa 1890

Could we possibly dumb down parenting any more? I think Western culture has managed to strip women of all their natural instincts and then replaced it with a steady stream of stupid pregnancy and baby book information. I was watching television last night – something baby related on one of those for-babies and parents TV channels and one of their “parenting advice segments” came on. This is a 5 minute feature which “tackles” real life parenting questions for the viewers. The question on this segment came from a mother who wanted to know if she could “spoil her child with too much affection”. She actually asked that fucking question. And they TOOK IT SERIOUSLY ENOUGH TO DEVOTE AN ENTIRE 5 MINUTES TO IT!

Where the hell is this sort of Victorian thinking coming from?

This is my answer to this woman: You fail. If you have to ask a question like that then you suck at motherhood. You gave birth to a human being, not a potato. Human beings need love and affection. Perhaps you are a cyborg and have adopted a human child and do not understand what babies need? If this is the case then I suggest that you return the baby and go back to your planet.

When I was pregnant, I read the usual tripe on the subject that you find in any bookstore. Horrible books like “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” and “What to Expect in the First Year” initially made me feel like a bad parent because I was unable to “harden my heart and let my baby cry it out” or because I had a glass of wine with Christmas dinner. These books are shit and totally contrary to any instinct the human mother generally possesses. This might be offensive to some parents but I think letting a baby cry it out in a crib to teach them independence is bullshit. It’s wrong and ours is the only culture that thinks it is acceptable. Some books I read even tell the parent not to worry if the baby cries so hard that she throws up – simply go and clean it up with as little interaction with the child as possible to let them know that it is time to shut up and go to sleep. You know who this is for? Mum and dad. Not the baby.

How absurd that we think a six month old needs to learn independence.

This is the kind of pap that we are fed. And apparently, it leaves some people so confused and helpless that they worry about spoiling their babies with affection. For once, can we please look around the world at cultures that get it right; cultures that have happy babies and happy mothers? Your baby does not need an Exersaucer and a bouncy chair and Baby Einstein videos and a Sophie – your baby needs you: during the day and at night. It’s tiring and it fucking sucks sometimes but you pretty much sign up for it when you get pregnant.

I wish I had known this before I had my daughter. It would have saved me weeks of unnecessary crying on her part and guilt on mine. To a new or expecting mother I would say: go ahead, sleep with your baby, breastfeed her, hold her all the time and enjoy it. Soon it will be over and you will miss those wonderful baby days. And your child will be so much happier for it.

this is going to be a long one...

As I heaved my pregnant body out of bed this morning and tried to waddle as quietly as I could out of the room so as not to wake Avery and the husband (yes she still sleeps in our bed – tsk tsk away if you must) the floor groaned underneath me as the weight of the day to come settled itself on my shoulders. As usual, I spend my time in the shower worrying and washing. I go over my to-do list while I blow dry my hair, and by the time I get in the car to head to the office, I feel overwhelmed.

It is silly, because I have a lot to be thankful for and not much to worry about. I just find that things start to get unmanageable at this time of year. I think this all began when my mother called the other day and began telling me how I have never done anything for her and I should be getting more involved in the ongoing divorce saga between her and my father and he is such an evil man and how can I still talk to him…and her psychiatrist thinks that her children should be doing more for her and don’t we understand how sick and depressed she is….blah blah blah. This was all while my daughter screamed and cried in the background for her dinner and husband was just coming in the door from work and my uterus was hardening itself up against the enormous amounts of stress hormones that my body was beginning to pump out as a result of this phone call. I think I am beginning to hate my mother.

This is a fairly usual conversation that my mother and I have. To get into the details and history of the relationship and the circumstances of everything on this blog would be a tremendous undertaking and one that I am not willing to put effort into. Suffice it to say that my mother is wrong and very selfish and I am pregnant, tired, looking after a toddler and truly do not need to put up with her shit anymore.

Next item:

Avery has become very obsessive about dirt. She does not like it on her hands (by dirt I mean food particles, marker, fluff from the carpet…I could go on) and the other day she took a cloth down from the countertop and began wiping the floor with it, grunting away on her hands and knees, saying “dirty, dirty” over and over again. At first, I thought it was really funny and got out the video camera. Then I started to wonder where she would be getting this from. I certainly never get down on my hands and knees to wash the floors. I am definitely not a clean freak either. I can only assume that she is getting it from her daycare provider – my girlfriend who lives next door. This woman has convinced my daughter that dirt, poop and wet socks are horrible things and Avery has absorbed all of this. She has truly become obsessed. Also, she is afraid of feathers (in particular the down feathers that sometimes escape from our duvet) and fluffy things on the carpets. I have to remove the offending feather or “fluffy” from her sight and flush it down the toilet where we stand and say goodbye to it while Avery furrows her brow and asks me 500 times if it is gone yet. Is this normal? I AM NOT encouraging this. I try to make it out like it is not a big deal but she remains upset. I don’t know what to do.

Next item:

Secret (fucking) Santa at work. You draw a name; you spend $20 on a gift for this person. I got the name of a contract employee who I do not know very well and who will be gone in a few months. I have left this to the last minute and now must run out at lunch and get something for Thursday this week. For fucks sake.

Next item:

The potluck, also this Thursday, at our office. I have volunteered to bring potato (fucking) salad. When am I going to make this? Husband is on nights and I have barely enough time to get dinner and bath done with a very demanding toddler at night. I have found a solution: I will buy a giant tub of potato salad from the market after work tonight and add some chives and possibly slices of kosher pickles to make it look authentic.

Next item:

Christmas (fucking) cards. Haven’t even started them. Was informed by husband that I need to get on this because we have received a bunch from some of the Captains and even the Chief of his department so I had better send them one as well. Ugh.

Next item:

Christmas day dinner at my father’s house with his girlfriend’s half-retarded family members, Avery and no husband because he is on day shift. My father asked that we do not do gifts this year, which is fine. He called me the other day to tell me that he hopes I will not be upset but he did get gifts for his girlfriend, her children (22 and 25) and MY OWN BROTHER but the whole “not doing gifts this year” still applies to me.

Next item:

Boxing Day with the in-laws. The only thing that is going to light up this day is the absolutely horrible gift I will be giving to my mother in law, which I still have not put together yet. But I am looking forward to that. As for the rest of it, I can only say that if I were not pregnant, I would be half in the bag by the time they came over to our house.

I think that about does it for now. I am going to muddle through this week and then try to mentally block out the holidays and soon it will all be over!

Fa la la la la.

Last night I had a dream. It scared the shit out of me.

I’d like to think that I’m not a complete wimp, but my sub-conscious decides to give me a reality check every once in awhile. I guess I thought I was just mildly upset about finding out I had gallstones. And I guess I was more angry than anything else initially about it because it’s one more fucking thing I have to deal with and now I have (almost) two babies to take care of and I can’t afford to be out of commission. Also, going under with anesthetic scares me.

Anyway, last night I dreamt that I was having my c-section. The husband was there and when they took Hayden out, he followed her over to the little “baby cleaning area” to take pictures, leaving me alone on the table. The nurse pulled the blue sheet that obscures ones view of the carnage away and I looked down to find that they had forgotten to stitch me up. Instead, the nurse had just covered the opening into my abdominal cavity with a white towel. At this point, something told me that I didn’t have much time so I called to my husband to bring the baby over to me but he wasn’t listening. It was all very dramatic. When I woke up from the dream, I was very upset. It was about 3am and I didn’t get much sleep after that. I kept worrying about dying and leaving my babies, and gallbladder surgery and anesthetic and infection in the hospital and blah, blah, blah.

I know that everything will be fine. I think that I have reached that point in my life when the realization that none of us are invincible has hit me. I am not invincible. I am meat and chemicals and brain and things can go wrong with those parts. I guess it didn’t bother me before because I didn’t have children who needed me. It’s so strange to feel so necessary and needed. Some days it takes my breath away. Some days I don’t even think about it.

The other night the husband and I were debating whether or not to stop in at a friend’s Christmas Party this weekend. We could drop Avery off next door for a couple of hours and drive the 40 minutes to our friend’s house, have a drink and a quick visit and then leave. We eventually decided that it wasn’t worth it. Then my husband said something that I had totally been thinking but was too afraid to say out loud for fear that he would think I was crazy. He said: “What if we got in a car accident on the way home and both died? You know, there are lots of drunks on the road at this time of year. Who the hell would Avery have if she didn’t have us?”

Holy shit. We are never getting in a car together again. Well, that’s a bit extreme. But obviously, both of us have seriously grown up a hell of a lot. And both of us are deeply connected to and in love with our baby. And it’s nice to know that I’m not the only crazy one in the house. It will be one of those fragile days for me I guess. Like I said, there are days when I do feel invincible still, but more in a determined way, not in an ignorant self-important way. Those are the days when you feel like a lion watching over your pride – you are big and strong and can protect your family from anything that comes along. I like those days the best.

But today, I am a rabbit.

It’s a girl! (And I have gallstones)

So they tacked on an abdominal ultrasound to my obstetrical one and whaddya know? According to the technician I have “loads of gallstones”. Awesomeness. I will be seeing a surgeon and determining if I can wait until after baby is born to have the surgery. Apparently this is somewhat common during pregnancy.

Anyway, the baby looks great and because there was no penis sighting, the technician is 90% sure it is a girl. We had 100% confirmation with Avery but whatever. A healthy baby is all I ask at this point. Although I was pretty freaking excited about the girl thing. We have a first name (Hayden) and a middle name (Winter) for a girl but no boy names. Husband thinks we should pick a boy name just incase. I like Jakob Kenneth, husband hates it. We cannot agree on any of them. Any suggestions from the 2 people that read this blog are more than welcome.

So that’s the update. I now live in fear of food.