Random Family

A good friend recommended repeatedly (and over the course of several years) that I read Random Family, by Adrian Nicole LeBlanc, and I finally did this spring.  My husband, who read the book last fall, warned that I might not want to read Random Family during my commute because so much of the material can be heartbreaking.  I ignored my husband's advice and plowed straight ahead.  While I was waiting for the R train to take me home a few weeks ago, I finished reading it, and there I was, on the platform at Rector Street, finishing Random Family and starting to cry.

Apparently, my husband was right.  But the reason my eyes welled with tears that day was that LeBlanc had done something truly amazing at the end of her book -- she gave her readers the gift of a happy ending.  Random Family follows the lives of two women for eleven years through their multiple teenaged pregnancies, their varied relationships with men and with the criminal justice system, and - most importantly - their even more varied relationships with the members of their families.  After having chronicled an eleven-year series of substantial parent-to-child disappointments, in the end, LeBlanc gives us a brief scene of joy and love between a father and his daughter.

In the ordered and comfortable world of baby books, mommy blogs,  and parenting education, the starting point is always a celebration of the relationship between parent and child with the underlying assumption that each of us is the best parent for his or her baby.  But can that simple notion withstand complex circumstances?  Is a teenaged mom who goes out to clubs, bribing her own mother to watch her small children in exchange for cocaine, the best mom for her baby?  The answer is yes.  Heartbreakingly, yes.  There are many lessons from Random Family, but the one that has serious lasting power for me is that no matter who you are or what you do, your baby will still need your love and support more than anything in the world.  And so it will be my life's work to remember that fact and to honor it.

Attack of the Wiggle Monster

Baby is officially a Wiggle Monster.

Pros:

1. Baby is curious.
2. Baby has an adventurous spirit - ready to explore the world.
3. Baby is getting strong enough to get himself around, which means he really wants to get himself around (an amazing positive cycle that builds confidence and independence).

Cons:

1. Bath-time has morphed into: "Oh, [Baby] look at this awesome ____ [insert: frog, penguin, duck, puffer fish, turtle, star]!"  "Ummmm, [Baby], try to enjoy the bath while you are sitting down . . ."  "[Baby], please do not try to climb ____ [insert: out of the bath, up the wall of the tub, onto the soap dish]."
2. Diaper changes are starting to resemble putting a diaper on a rotisserie chicken -- if said chicken had wiggly arms and legs and let out great sounds of frustration and irritation with said attempt to put said diaper on said chicken.
3. Changing Baby's clothes is a process that sometimes involves two people, or, at the very least, it involves several moments of pause while Baby flips over, gets on his hands and knees, and rocks back and forth in what appears to be an attempt to launch himself off of the changing table and out into the World, where he is obviously meant to be, clothes or no clothes, Momma.  

Tonight, after the bath (See, Con #1), I brought Baby to his room to get him ready for bed (See, Cons #2-#3), and an epic wiggle battle ensued.  Baby rotated on his own axis at least three times while I tried to fasten his first diaper.  Yes, first diaper.  One of the tabs on the first diaper broke free from the rest of the diaper, which resulted in more rotating, more wiggling, and - oh, yes - a prolonged diaper experience.  

By the time Baby and I were working on his PJs, I found my mind wandering.  I flashed to my adventures in Kruger where I tracked lions on foot, stood several yards from a rhino, and walked through a herd of water buffalo.  [To be clear, water buffalo are no joke.]  If I could handle those wild animals, surely I can handle a Wiggle Monster.

But here's my question:  If, during a mere diaper and clothing change, I summon the inner-strength it took to face lions, rhinos, and water buffalo, what when Baby becomes Toddler and delivers his first (and second, and third) . . . temper tantrum?   

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all the dads  -- may the giggles and shouts of laughter be extra loud today!

A Morning in the Life

We are currently at the mid-point in the morning, and this morning has involved almost the entire spectrum of Baby's moods and feelings.  The morning kicked off with some good, old-fashioned Floor Time during which Baby enjoyed rolling, scooching, and inching . . . until he didn't.  Then, Baby and I made ourselves half-way presentable for the outside world and headed out to the corner coffee shop.  Baby was calm and happy.  He sucked his thumb while he carefully studied everyone he saw.  

We came home.  I asked a woman who had just lit her cigarette in the hallway on the ground floor to wait to do that until she gets outside next time.  (How did that go over?  Well . . . hmmm . . . not great.    But before she could tell me what she really thought about my request, I got on the elevator up to our apartment.  Unfriendly Neighbor Crisis averted.)

Back in the comfort of our apartment, Baby enjoyed some pureed squash for breakfast.  He even smiled while he was eating it, which is his rarest (and therefore highest) form of praise for solid food.  He drank three drops of juice, which is par for the course.  He seemed sleepy, so we started the morning nap ritual.  He fell asleep while I was nursing him, which is also par for the course.  

Then he fussed and seemed to be protesting the nap when I left the room.  I tried to let him soothe himself until his cry became a serious, all-out, get-in-here-momma-right-NOW-cry.  Baby kept crying as I held him.  He was dealing with what has become a not infrequent predicament.  (I do not want to completely embarrass my almost eight-month old, so I will just note that this predicament started soon after solid foods, I tend to blame oatmeal and/or bananas and/or cooked carrots, and I have started giving him little bottles of diluted prune juice as an antidote.)  After some major cuddling and a little back rub, he calmed down and his predicament had passed.  (Try not to judge me for making poop puns... this is a mommy blog, not an issue of Harper's.)  

Five minutes later, Baby was changed and playing his favorite game as if nothing had happened.  He put a washcloth over his face while I repeated variations of, "Oh hey... where's my baby?  Anyone seen [Baby]?!?"  He squirmed and kicked with delight until he pulled the washcloth off of his face in triumph.  And I mean triumph.

Soon, Baby and I were back in the living room where he decided he would, in fact, love some prune juice, "thankyouverymuch, Momma," and he drank an entire ounce of the good stuff.  Then I read Corduroy while he ate the pages.  

When it was time to try the morning nap again, I placed Baby in his crib with his monkey.  For the next fifteen minutes, I could hear Baby telling monkey all sorts of wild sounding things.  Now, all is quiet.  Baby sleeps, and I feel like we have lived ten days in four hours.  

Happy Mother's Day

To all the Mommas In Training, may the smiles be big, the naps be long, the diapers change themselves, and may you be reminded all day that you are the best moms for your babies.

(Baby woke up at 4:45 this morning.  I normally walk the cry-it-out-line before 6 a.m., but for whatever "reason" (a term I use loosely) I thought that Baby had had a bad dream  - so in I went, and so the day began.  May the naps be long today, people.  May they be long!)

Night And Day Care

Baby spent a month with Nanny because I went back to work one month before Baby was eligible to start Day Care.  I am the first to admit that that month was peppered with challenges, most of which centered around my slow (and reluctant?) recognition that Baby and I could spend some of our days apart and he would still recognize me, enjoy my company, and not feel abandoned.  I never worried about the quality of Baby's care, I was just jealous that I was not the one providing it.  

Then Baby spent about four weeks at Day Care.  I could go on and on about why Day Care was a bad fit for us.  Instead, I will simply note, for the record, that it was a bad fit.  During those four weeks, my insecurity about whether, as a family, we were happy with Day Care was rivaled only by the guilt associated with having chosen the wrong child care option.  I felt like an idiot.  Apparently, I was more likely to cross examine a cab driver about traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge than I was to discern what my baby's days would be like at Day Care.  Had I been careless (careless!) about this decision?  

Last week, we asked Nanny to come back permanently, and she agreed.  When I opened the door to greet her on the first morning of her return, Baby smiled immediately and looked very happy to see her.

On the third morning after Nanny's return, Baby was suddenly a confident, easy little eater of solid foods.  On the third full day of Day Care, I got a call to come retrieve my little dearheart because Day Care thought he had had too many big poops.

Now seems like a very good time to publicly acknowledge how thankful I am that we are in a position to work with a woman who is so kind, capable, and all around amazing.  The woman who referred Nanny confided in me that she believes that Nanny is an angel.  Nanny definitely manifests goodness, purity, and selflessness - and, perhaps even more importantly, she loves Baby and makes him happy.  So... angel it is.  

BOOK REVIEW - Jeremy Draws a Monster

Jeremy Draws a Monster, by Peter McCarty

We have two Peter McCarty books right now, and Jeremy Draws a Monster is the current favorite.  Jeremy is a little boy who stays in his room and draws - even when he can see other kids playing outside his window.  One day Jeremy draws a monster who begins to rule Jeremy's life.  The monster dictates a long list of necessities, which keep Jeremy inside drawing for him all day, and the monster even takes Jeremy's bed at night.  The monster, who has the number "3" on his belly just as Jeremy has the number "3" on his tee shirt, easily could be Jeremy's fear of making friends.  Will Jeremy let the monster rule his life forever?

SPOILER ALERT!!!

No.  Jeremy is a crafty little guy who figures out exactly how to deal with his fear monster.