Today marks five years and ten months of breastfeeding for me. At this point, I have no shame or embarrassment whatsoever about anything related to lactation. However, our culture leaves many women caught between not actually seeing extended nursing/tandeming/etc. in the examples of women around them, yet feeling a little embarrassed about asking questions or commenting on another woman's choices for feeding her children.
So, I'm making it easy on you. I'm writing this post in a Q&A format based off of questions I've been asked on message boards and in private chats with my closest friends and family. I'm choosing to be completely candid. If there is a question that wasn't addressed, leave a comment, and I'll try to respond (unless you are some weirdo-pervert, in which case it will simply be deleted).
I heard that breastfeeding during pregnancy can cause a miscarriage. Is it safe?
Yes. There is solid research that shows that as long as orgasm is safe, so is breastfeeding. It is true that the hormones released during breastfeeding can cause contractions, but the same is true for sex. In some high-risk pregnancies, woman are advised to wean around 20 weeks, just as a precaution. However, in general, it is perfectly safe. My own OB was very happy to hear that I was nursing two during my last pregnancy, and my midwife for this pregnancy was totally fine with it, too. For more information, check out www.kellymom.com.
What about taking nutrients away from the fetus? What about the colostrum? And, do your kids eat regular food or do they just breastfeed? How often do they nurse, anyway? I'm getting this weird mental picture of a four-year-old who doesn't know how to eat real food...
I know, that was a bunch of questions tied in together. Consider the last few bonus questions ;) It is important for the mom to eat well and enough just so that she doesn't get her own nutritional stores depleted, but the baby and nursling will both be fine. Colostrum is produced just like in any other pregnancy, generally appearing in the last trimester and the first few days after birth. It can cause very loose, yellowish stools in the nursling (not diarrhea), but is full of antibodies. Your nursling will not drink it all up from the newborn. It is possible that the mature milk will come in a little faster than before.
Regarding the last few questions, even our youngest, who didn't begin solids until after a year, eats a normal amount of regular grown-up food. All of the kidlets have a good appetite and none are picky eaters. At this point, our 17-month old is nursing about four or five times during the day and a few times at night. She loves to drink water. If she follows the pattern of the other two, she'll night-wean herself by the third trimester as my supply diminishes, then go back to frequent nursing for a couple of months after the baby is born. She'll drop more and more sessions as she goes along. My three-year-old only nurses once or twice a day, and may choose to wean as the milk changes.
So, how does milk change during pregnancy?
It depends on the woman. My milk supply generally drops pretty drastically around the end of the first trimester. Then, it changes to colostrum sometime around the end of the second trimester. Ariana weaned during my last pregnancy because she hated the taste of colostrum.
Doesn't all that breastfeeding interfere with more romantic functions of breasts?
Nope. My mouth is used for lots of things, including talking and eating, and that has never gotten in the way of kissing. My body parts have many talents :)
Do you set limits on nursing?
Absolutely. This is a two-way relationship, and nursing manners are important to me. In the newborn stage, I offer anytime they seem interested. As they get older, they can wait a few minutes if I am busy. At their current ages when they eat plenty of solids, if I feel very uncomfortable I cut a nursing session short or skip it. They know that, and are very respectful of my body.
How does nursing them together affect sibling relationships, jealousy, etc?
It is hard to say for sure, but I believe it helps smooth the transition a great deal. For one thing, the birth brings a ton of milk. For my kidlets, this was like a waterfall after a drought. They were so delighted with the milk that the baby brought that it ensured very positive feelings from the beginning. It is reassuring for them to know that the baby doesn't take away from their own special closeness with nursing times. Even the American Academy of Pediatrics site states that tandem nursing may reduce jealousy and promote sibling bonding. Seeing the older child gently stroke the baby's hand or face as they share milk is one of my favorite memories of those early days.
How does it actually work? Do they both nurse at the same time? How do you get them positioned?
Different things work for different people. Having the two different sucking patterns felt weird to me, so I prefer to have them nurse separately most of the time. However, there are several ways to work out the logistics if you are comfortable with both nursing simultaneously. Hilary Flower's book Adventures in Tandem Nursing has tons of helpful, real-life advice.
How much did the kids want to nurse after the baby was born?
A lot. More than I would have imagined. At first, both Ariana and Joel nursed more than their newborn siblings. Ariana basically went back to exclusive nursing for over three months after Joelito was born, and she gained four pounds! Some moms limit it a lot. I chose to just ride it out, and after a few months they cut back considerably.
Does your body make enough milk? I'm afraid that the baby won't get enough...
Ha, ha and double ha. Sorry--I don't mean to be insensitive, it is just that I struggled with the opposite problem. It is all about supply and demand. Unless you schedule feedings or otherwise limit access to the breast, your body will generally make as much milk as your baby will drink. How did women with twins manage before formula? The first time around, I didn't know to reserve his-and-hers breasts. My body must have thought it was feeding quads! I had a horrible over-supply. I was constantly leaking, on the edge of engorgement, and had an over-active let-down that nearly drowned poor Joelito each time he latched on! The second time through, I made sure that we didn't alternate so much, and my supply adjusted much more quickly. While I realize that supply issues are real for some women, the vast majority of those I know who have tandem-nursed have found that over-supply is much more common.
Does it cause dental problems in the older nursling?
There is pretty conclusive research that breastfeeding does not cause cavities. It isn't a bottle and it isn't formula. It doesn't pool behind the teeth, and the composition is entirely different. In fact, statistically, the longer you breastfeed, the less likely your child is to have an overbite or need braces later on! As always, good dental hygiene is important, of course.
Is breastfeeding just about you? I mean, why on earth would you want to breastfeed for so long, anyway?
When I hear this, I laugh and laugh. I can usually stop before they edge away and start mentioning soothing drinks. The truth is, of all the women I know with older nurslings, most are eager for the day their children will wean. Sure, there are moments where there is the misty, Mother-Mary-halo and you enjoy the peace of a child cuddled up. When Joelito grins his most adorable smile and tells me that leche is better than ice-cream, or when Elena chortles with delight and chants "leche, leche" over and over as she giggles and grabs my shirt, it is so sweet that I am really glad to be nursing. Both younger ones are little tornadoes, and sitting down to nurse is one of the quietest, most peaceful moments of their day, and a much needed break for all of us.
The rest of the time? My breasts get tender and sore during pregnancy, and a vigorous suck or messy latch hurts. They learn very quickly to latch well every time and be gentle. Dry-nursing (if no milk is coming out) gives me the creepy-crawlies, as if a million ants were crawling all over me. It is one of the worst sensations imaginable and makes for very short, teeth-gritting, nursing-sessions. Finally, following all of the diet restrictions from their food allergies gets old really fast. In those moments, I look at it like diaper-changing: not always pleasant, but in the best interests of my child, and part of the way I choose to parent. In my post, http://dulcefamily.blogspot.com/2009/05/so-why-not-wean.html I included a list of some of the benefits of continuing to breast feed both for children and mothers.
Will you nurse three?
Who knows? Ariana weaned just a couple of months before Elena was born. Later, she asked to nurse again but had already forgotten how. I have no idea if Joel will also decide to wean during pregnancy or if he will continue. If he keeps it up, then I will be triandeming in July. :)
What is your cut-off age for nursing? College?
Definitely. Especially if they choose an out-of-state school. Honestly, I don't know. Each day so far they are only a few hours older than the last time they nursed. The most important thing I've learned as a parent is to trust God's design. They'll stop when they are ready.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Stolen Meme on Getting to Know Me
I snitched this from Maria's blog. Check her out if you haven't already at A Piece of my Mind in my blog list :) I, uh, also borrowed some of her answers when appropriate to save typing.
1. WAS I NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Sort of.
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I CRIED? A few minutes ago. I'm pregnant, so it has become frequent recently.
3. DO I LIKE MY HANDWRITING? Most of the time.
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? No deli meats for awhile.
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Three here and one we haven't met yet.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Yes. :)
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Sometimes.
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yep. The only thing I am missing is wisdom teeth :)
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Definitely!
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Lately, chocolate mini wheats.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Nope
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Anything egg/other allergens-free
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Their smiles or lack thereof.
15. RED OR PINK? Red.
16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? Changes according to the moment.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? I can't handle separation from Carlos or the kidlets for very long.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE ELSE TO PUT THIS ON THEIR BLOG? Seems like it could be fun, so yes!
19. WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? None. I love furry socks, though.
20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? A few bites of a barbeque cheeseburger. It was disappointing.
21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The kidlets.
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Sunshine yellow.
23. FAVORITE SMELL? My family.
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Carlos.
25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I stole it outright, and yes, I like her.
26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Gymnastics- hands down, but I also like figure-skating and diving.
27. Hair Color? At the moment, mostly light brown.
28. EYE COLOR? Hazel .
29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No.
30. FAVORITE FOOD? Chocolate.
31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy Endings. If I want entertainment, I want happy entertainment. Reality has tragedy enough!
32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? I don't remember.
33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? An extra large men's undershirt. Nice and comfy.
34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer...in Puebla...
35. HUGS OR KISSES? Both!.
36. FAVORITE DESSERT? Hmm... this is so complicated. Who can pick just one?
37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? I don't know.
38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? 99% of the people visiting this blog.
39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? The Curse of the Good Girl, and some old Tamora Pierce.
40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? I don't use one.
41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? CSI: Miami, I think.
42. FAVORITE SOUND? "Mami, I love you." is right on up there with Carlos saying he loves me. Other than that, I LOVE silence!
43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles.
44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Um, Austria or Italy? I think that's the furthest, but I am not going to get a map out to check.
45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Talent? Um, I make milk! And I smile a lot.
46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Puebla, Mexico
47. WHOSE ANSWERS AM I LOOKING FORWARD TO READING? Everyone's!
1. WAS I NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Sort of.
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I CRIED? A few minutes ago. I'm pregnant, so it has become frequent recently.
3. DO I LIKE MY HANDWRITING? Most of the time.
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? No deli meats for awhile.
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Three here and one we haven't met yet.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Yes. :)
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Sometimes.
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yep. The only thing I am missing is wisdom teeth :)
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Definitely!
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Lately, chocolate mini wheats.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Nope
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Anything egg/other allergens-free
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Their smiles or lack thereof.
15. RED OR PINK? Red.
16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? Changes according to the moment.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? I can't handle separation from Carlos or the kidlets for very long.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE ELSE TO PUT THIS ON THEIR BLOG? Seems like it could be fun, so yes!
19. WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? None. I love furry socks, though.
20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? A few bites of a barbeque cheeseburger. It was disappointing.
21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The kidlets.
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Sunshine yellow.
23. FAVORITE SMELL? My family.
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Carlos.
25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I stole it outright, and yes, I like her.
26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Gymnastics- hands down, but I also like figure-skating and diving.
27. Hair Color? At the moment, mostly light brown.
28. EYE COLOR? Hazel .
29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No.
30. FAVORITE FOOD? Chocolate.
31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy Endings. If I want entertainment, I want happy entertainment. Reality has tragedy enough!
32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? I don't remember.
33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? An extra large men's undershirt. Nice and comfy.
34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer...in Puebla...
35. HUGS OR KISSES? Both!.
36. FAVORITE DESSERT? Hmm... this is so complicated. Who can pick just one?
37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? I don't know.
38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? 99% of the people visiting this blog.
39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? The Curse of the Good Girl, and some old Tamora Pierce.
40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? I don't use one.
41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? CSI: Miami, I think.
42. FAVORITE SOUND? "Mami, I love you." is right on up there with Carlos saying he loves me. Other than that, I LOVE silence!
43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles.
44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Um, Austria or Italy? I think that's the furthest, but I am not going to get a map out to check.
45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Talent? Um, I make milk! And I smile a lot.
46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Puebla, Mexico
47. WHOSE ANSWERS AM I LOOKING FORWARD TO READING? Everyone's!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Even Murphy had better days...
Today has been one of those proverbial days where just about everything that could go wrong, has. In my experience, these days rarely come out of the blue when you are rested, healthy and well-able to cope with them. Instead, they cannily attack when you are already down. In our case, I haven't gotten more than three hours of sleep--none of them consecutive--any night this week. Add to that first-trimester-tiredness and I've been unspeakably exhausted.
The kidlets haven't gotten much more sleep than I, and were awake at 6:30 this morning despite being up most of the night. The toddler hasn't been feeling well at all, and has been screaming inconsolably every night. Her doc checked her out and couldn't find anything major. I'm guessing a combination of teething, minor virus and allergies. I have a hard time hearing her scream and not being able to comfort her, but it is terrible for my five year old, and she ultimately joins in because it hurts her so much to see her baby sister cry.
As my eldest and I were fixing breakfast, waves of nausea hit. Oh, no. Not good. Well, OK, I know that it actually *is* very good for the baby, but I was really hoping for another week or two before it hit. Guess not.
Aside from doing schoolwork with the eldest while simultaneously keeping an eye on my three year old and toddler, I had a bunch of tests that need to be graded before class this afternoon. Stomach rolling, I try to focus. I am overwhelmed as it is, and we're having another child?! I *know* that this baby is a gift from God, but today is making me wonder a bit about the timing.
Taking advantage of my preoccupation, my three year old started throwing some things that were not meant to be thrown. I placed the partially graded exams up out of reach and went to deal with him, and his older sister who was firmly on his side. A few seconds later, an ominous sound registers. Crinkling paper and the sound of pouring. I look up in a panic. It is worse than I imagined. Far worse.
During the split second when my attention was diverted, the toddler accomplished an amazing number of things. She climbed up and got ahold of the exams and threw them onto the floor so she could dance on them. OK, so they're a little rumpled; I can smooth them out...but. Wait. The pouring sound? Her diaper is off and she has peed on the exams!!! NO. No, no, no. How on earth do I explain this? Er, sorry. My daughter mistook your exam for kitty litter...
I dash over to try to rescue any unsoiled exams. The baby gives me her best crinkle-nosed grin and proudly announces, "Peepee, mami!" Why, yes, I see that. Maybe I'll look back on this in delight over her emerging potty-learning skills. Right now, I am horrified. Fortunately only one exam is wet. I'll tell the student it was simply misplaced. No need to specify that that misplacement involved body fluids...
I scoop up my toddler, make sure that she is securely diapered (yeah, a little late for that) then went to check on everybody else. All OK. Sigh of relief. Then the little one comes back up and I notice that her face is full of welts. Hives all over her face and neck. Oh, no. Not again. I remember our ER run from a previous reaction when neither Benedryl or prednisone helped with the hives. Trying not to panic, I grab the Benedryl, which she loathes, and try to gently force it down. Finally, I've got most of the dose in her mouth and only a small amount in her hair and clothes (how does she know to keep her mouth clamped shut from such an early age?).
She's whimpering and asking for leche, so I start to nurse her. Now, my decision to breastfeed throughout pregnancy is based on simple risk/benefit ratios. I think that it is much better for the kids, and I am too tired to wean, anyway. However, the breast tenderness from early pregnancy combined with her teething make it feel as if I'm being gnawed on by some type of sandpaper monster. Owwww! I know it gets better or I wouldn't stick it out--I'm no martyr--but this isn't making the day better right now.
Thank God, she falls asleep quickly. I watch her closely for signs of further allergic reaction, not daring to put her down lest she wake up or get into whatever it was that caused the reaction in the first place. While I am preoccupied (are you noticing a trend here?) the older two decide to go into the kitchen and cook.
After weighing the options, I decide I would rather them do that than get involved in something else. As I watch from a distance, flour, a scoop of salt, a hefty dash of baking powder and some cinnamon are poured into a bowl. "Let's taste it!" Horrified grimaces. "It needs vanilla, but I don't see it" That is because it is up on top of the refrigerator out of reach of junior chefs. "Ooooh, look! I found sprinkles!" Vigorous shaking. "Wow. It is purple now." "Let's add more!"
Two containers of sugar sprinkles later... Apparently, the sugar helped. Subsequent taste-tests are all smiles. My stomach is heaving from the mere thought, but at least there are no smells. All the dyes from the colored sprinkles can't be good for them, but I am reasonably sure that they aren't going to eat enough to be a big deal.
It isn't even noon yet. Dear God, please help. Once my husband arrives, I dash around madly to get ready for class (normally, I'm ready to walk out the door, but today...). Notice that the slacks that previously required a belt fit just right. Isn't it a little early to be gaining weight? Make to school with a few minutes to spare. As I walk towards the building, arms full of books and papers, I realize that I was mistaken about the fit of the pants. They are drooping perilously lower with each step. Of course, my parking spot isn't close at all, and my hands are too full to hitch up the pants. I grit my teeth and try to take giant steps (Mother, may I?) to keep from being indecent and pretend not to notice the bemused glances of the rest of the people walking into school.
Finally, I am able to set my things down and tug on the sagging pants. It could have been worse--my top was long enough to prevent any inadvertent plumber's crack. If I stay seated, maybe they won't droop any more... Except that today is their oral midterm, so I'll be walking around with each student while administering individual exams. Oh, joy.
Is it the weekend yet?
The kidlets haven't gotten much more sleep than I, and were awake at 6:30 this morning despite being up most of the night. The toddler hasn't been feeling well at all, and has been screaming inconsolably every night. Her doc checked her out and couldn't find anything major. I'm guessing a combination of teething, minor virus and allergies. I have a hard time hearing her scream and not being able to comfort her, but it is terrible for my five year old, and she ultimately joins in because it hurts her so much to see her baby sister cry.
As my eldest and I were fixing breakfast, waves of nausea hit. Oh, no. Not good. Well, OK, I know that it actually *is* very good for the baby, but I was really hoping for another week or two before it hit. Guess not.
Aside from doing schoolwork with the eldest while simultaneously keeping an eye on my three year old and toddler, I had a bunch of tests that need to be graded before class this afternoon. Stomach rolling, I try to focus. I am overwhelmed as it is, and we're having another child?! I *know* that this baby is a gift from God, but today is making me wonder a bit about the timing.
Taking advantage of my preoccupation, my three year old started throwing some things that were not meant to be thrown. I placed the partially graded exams up out of reach and went to deal with him, and his older sister who was firmly on his side. A few seconds later, an ominous sound registers. Crinkling paper and the sound of pouring. I look up in a panic. It is worse than I imagined. Far worse.
During the split second when my attention was diverted, the toddler accomplished an amazing number of things. She climbed up and got ahold of the exams and threw them onto the floor so she could dance on them. OK, so they're a little rumpled; I can smooth them out...but. Wait. The pouring sound? Her diaper is off and she has peed on the exams!!! NO. No, no, no. How on earth do I explain this? Er, sorry. My daughter mistook your exam for kitty litter...
I dash over to try to rescue any unsoiled exams. The baby gives me her best crinkle-nosed grin and proudly announces, "Peepee, mami!" Why, yes, I see that. Maybe I'll look back on this in delight over her emerging potty-learning skills. Right now, I am horrified. Fortunately only one exam is wet. I'll tell the student it was simply misplaced. No need to specify that that misplacement involved body fluids...
I scoop up my toddler, make sure that she is securely diapered (yeah, a little late for that) then went to check on everybody else. All OK. Sigh of relief. Then the little one comes back up and I notice that her face is full of welts. Hives all over her face and neck. Oh, no. Not again. I remember our ER run from a previous reaction when neither Benedryl or prednisone helped with the hives. Trying not to panic, I grab the Benedryl, which she loathes, and try to gently force it down. Finally, I've got most of the dose in her mouth and only a small amount in her hair and clothes (how does she know to keep her mouth clamped shut from such an early age?).
She's whimpering and asking for leche, so I start to nurse her. Now, my decision to breastfeed throughout pregnancy is based on simple risk/benefit ratios. I think that it is much better for the kids, and I am too tired to wean, anyway. However, the breast tenderness from early pregnancy combined with her teething make it feel as if I'm being gnawed on by some type of sandpaper monster. Owwww! I know it gets better or I wouldn't stick it out--I'm no martyr--but this isn't making the day better right now.
Thank God, she falls asleep quickly. I watch her closely for signs of further allergic reaction, not daring to put her down lest she wake up or get into whatever it was that caused the reaction in the first place. While I am preoccupied (are you noticing a trend here?) the older two decide to go into the kitchen and cook.
After weighing the options, I decide I would rather them do that than get involved in something else. As I watch from a distance, flour, a scoop of salt, a hefty dash of baking powder and some cinnamon are poured into a bowl. "Let's taste it!" Horrified grimaces. "It needs vanilla, but I don't see it" That is because it is up on top of the refrigerator out of reach of junior chefs. "Ooooh, look! I found sprinkles!" Vigorous shaking. "Wow. It is purple now." "Let's add more!"
Two containers of sugar sprinkles later... Apparently, the sugar helped. Subsequent taste-tests are all smiles. My stomach is heaving from the mere thought, but at least there are no smells. All the dyes from the colored sprinkles can't be good for them, but I am reasonably sure that they aren't going to eat enough to be a big deal.
It isn't even noon yet. Dear God, please help. Once my husband arrives, I dash around madly to get ready for class (normally, I'm ready to walk out the door, but today...). Notice that the slacks that previously required a belt fit just right. Isn't it a little early to be gaining weight? Make to school with a few minutes to spare. As I walk towards the building, arms full of books and papers, I realize that I was mistaken about the fit of the pants. They are drooping perilously lower with each step. Of course, my parking spot isn't close at all, and my hands are too full to hitch up the pants. I grit my teeth and try to take giant steps (Mother, may I?) to keep from being indecent and pretend not to notice the bemused glances of the rest of the people walking into school.
Finally, I am able to set my things down and tug on the sagging pants. It could have been worse--my top was long enough to prevent any inadvertent plumber's crack. If I stay seated, maybe they won't droop any more... Except that today is their oral midterm, so I'll be walking around with each student while administering individual exams. Oh, joy.
Is it the weekend yet?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
His Banner Over Us is Love
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| Image by jans canon on Flickr |
Last night my one year old’s erupting teeth and my own recently extracted wisdom teeth combined to keep me awake most of the night. I won't lie--I was really grouchy about it. Eventually, though, I quieted my mental grumblings to listen. Usually I savor my night-wakings as my special, secret time with God. I tend to be pathetically distractable , and during the day so many things seem to conspire to keep me from just sitting at His feet.
Once I stopped mentally screaming and begging for more sleep, and after I watched the new episode of Top Chef on our DVR, I got a song stuck in my head. It was one I hadn’t heard since I was a little girl, and it was based off of the verse from the Song of Songs that says, "He brought me to his banquet table; his banner over me is love." It planted itself firmly in my mind with all the persistence of an obnoxious commercial, though with far more soothing effect.
I'm not sure that I ever fully went back to sleep, but throughout the day, that verse has reverberated in my heart. Now I know that believers debate how much of the Song of Songs has a spiritual interpretation and how much is just love poetry. I don't really care, although some of the more, um, unusual and creative similes remind me of the sense of humor of the Lover of our Souls who chose to heal a blind man by mixing spit and dirt and smearing it in the guy's eyes. Regardless, I know that He claims us as His bride, and I have no doubt that the verse applies to us. His banner over us is love.
I started looking through other Biblical references to banners. One of the first was mentioned in the account of the Israelites battling the Amalekites. When Moses lifted his hands, they would prevail; when he was too tired and put them down, they began to lose. So he got the support of friends who held his hands for him. After they won the battle, he built an altar and declared that the Lord was their banner.
Another passage is in one of my favorite Psalms: "We will shout for joy when you are victorious and lift up our banners in the name of our God. May the Lord grant all your requests." (20:5)
Isaiah 11:1-22 continues with a beautiful promise to draw all the nations of the earth to Himself, standing "as a banner for the peoples" and says that "the place of His rest will be glorious." He promises to gather together the outcasts and the people who don’t have a place where they belong.
Isaiah also spoke of banners in chapter 49. The servant of the Lord was discouraged and felt that all his work had been a waste of time. He was worn out and didn’t believe he was accomplishing anything. God gave him a radiant promise of the restoration of Israel, of captives finding freedom, abundance and fulfillment, and declares that those who hope in Him will not be disappointed. In chapter 59, He says that when the enemy comes in like a flood, He would raise up a banner.
As I read these words, a few things stood out to me. First, so many of these talked about weariness and discouragement. Whether we can see it now or not, our efforts have value and purpose, and ultimately, we will enjoy victory. Furthermore, this victory is the result of love--our acts of love for others, the love of people around us who hold our hands when we need extra strength, and the power of an open, accepting love that will draw all nations.
Most of all, though, it is about His love for us. His banner over us is love. The most persistent struggle in my walk with God has been trying to grasp what is the height, the depth and full measure of His love toward us. There is a stubborn, sneaky part of me that keeps wanting to make it about my worthiness or lack thereof, and reduce God's amazing passion into a resigned tolerance. Some duty that He has just because He is God and He “has to” love me.
But banners don’t convey that image at all. Banners are about public proclamations. About belonging. About confidence. They shout out our true identity to everyone present: We are His Beloved! He isn't ashamed of loving us! In fact, He is a joy-filled, delighted lover who is boldly announcing to the whole world that we belong to each other. I am my Beloved’s, and He is mine. His banner over me is love
I pray that despite any weariness that you may be feeling right now, and even if you are in the presence of your enemies, that you will enjoy the feast that He has prepared for you. You are the guest of honor at His banquet table. His banner over us is love.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Decadently Rich Pumpkin Fudge Cake (DF/EF/etc)
Joelito, our three-year-old pastry chef, came up with this version this morning. This moist cake is like melted Mexican chocolate, and allergy-friendly, too! I know that baking is supposed to be very precise, but as I've mentioned before, sometimes his enthusiasm gets the better of him.
1 C pumpkin
1 C apple cider
1/2 C brown sugar
1/2 C sugar
generous amount of pumpkin pie spice (Joel emptied the can, but it was almost gone anyway--maybe 2 tsp?)
several shakes of allspice
2 3/4 C flour (if gluten-free you can sub most GF mixes and the cake still comes out well, a rarity with egg-free cakes! We usually used 2 C rice flour and 2/3 C tapioca flour.)
1 C dairy-free chocolate chips
1/2 C canola oil
1 tsp salt
scant Tbsp baking powder
Mix well, pour into a greased and floured 9x13 pan and bake at 350 for about 45 minutes.
While the cake is baking, we mixed sugar, cocoa and Smart Balance light and boiled it like you would for a fudge sauce. Remove from heat, add a Tbsp of coffee and good splash of vanilla and stir well. Pour over the warm cake when it comes out of the oven.
It is the perfect autumn chocolate and spice combination. Yum!
1 C pumpkin
1 C apple cider
1/2 C brown sugar
1/2 C sugar
generous amount of pumpkin pie spice (Joel emptied the can, but it was almost gone anyway--maybe 2 tsp?)
several shakes of allspice
2 3/4 C flour (if gluten-free you can sub most GF mixes and the cake still comes out well, a rarity with egg-free cakes! We usually used 2 C rice flour and 2/3 C tapioca flour.)
1 C dairy-free chocolate chips
1/2 C canola oil
1 tsp salt
scant Tbsp baking powder
Mix well, pour into a greased and floured 9x13 pan and bake at 350 for about 45 minutes.
While the cake is baking, we mixed sugar, cocoa and Smart Balance light and boiled it like you would for a fudge sauce. Remove from heat, add a Tbsp of coffee and good splash of vanilla and stir well. Pour over the warm cake when it comes out of the oven.
It is the perfect autumn chocolate and spice combination. Yum!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sore spots
Last weekend I had the joy of having wisdom teeth extracted. Allow me to say, in all seriousness, that I prefer childbirth without pain meds to pretty much any kind of dental work, with full anesthesia. I don't respond well to pain meds. They make me loopy and moody, and often don't even make much difference with the pain. These extractions were under general anesthesia because one tooth was sideways and messy and they had to take out a small portion of my jawbone along with it. Things went well, but I'm am feeling whiny still, in spite of copious amounts of ice cream.
Perhaps you have noticed this--if I had ever taken physics (shudder) I'd probably know the name of the law for it--there is a special force of attraction exerted by injured body parts that compels further injury by anyone in the vicinity, despite their own intent. I first noticed this in childhood when a toe nail came off. I was positive that every single time my mom passed it, she stepped on my foot.
Now, anyone acquainted with my mother would dispute that. She is one of the most tenderhearted people I've ever met, far more so than I, and the idea of her purposefully hurting anyone is ludicrous. Nor is she so clumsy as to keep doing this accidentally (maybe once or twice, but certainly not over and over).
A similar occurrence took place with my sore jaw last night. Joelito smacked me in the jaw, and Elena headbutted me three times. Lest you get the wrong idea, this happened right after turning out the light. It was dark and they didn't see me. They had no intention of hurting me whatsoever. Joel actually cried for several minutes afterward when he saw that it hurt. Just as in the case with my foot, I was so sensitive that I noticed any incidental contact that probably wouldn't have even registered if I were not already sore.
This isn't limited to physical issues. Once I saw a couple of guys teasing each other, and happened to glance at one's face in the split second before the pain left his eyes. Now, the other guy was his best friend, and a genuinely nice person. He would have been horrified if he had realized that his words wounded his friend.
We've all seen those cruel barbs that are passed off as "just kidding" when everyone listening knows that they are meant to dig. This wasn't like that. It wasn't vicious or truly meant to hurt. Just gentle ribbing. And, if the friend hadn't been already tender in that spot, it wouldn't have hurt at all. But he never spoke up and said that it hurt. He hid it so quickly that his friend didn't see it.
I've been thinking a lot lately on the admonition from Galatians to bear one another's burdens. There is a full blog post brewing on that, but I'm not there yet. Somehow, though, I think there is something in that verse that ties in to being sensitive to sore spots in the people around us.
The Bible also tells us that each should bear his own burden, and I believe that we are responsible for dealing with our own hurts and letting them heal. So I certainly don't want to guilt-trip anyone into blaming themselves for an innocuous comment or action that just happens to hit a nerve with someone else, anymore than I would want my children to feel bad for accidentally bumping me.
I know, though, that for me it is so easy to miss things and not see the pain that my words or actions can cause, especially when no harm is intended. Maybe, if we open our eyes and look closely, we could get to be part of the healing process for someone close to us. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to soothe and help heal damage that might otherwise go unacknowledged? After the accidental bonks on the jaw, Joel and Elena carefully cuddled close to me and showered me with love. Even though they hadn't meant to hurt, their sweetness helped bring healing. What if we could do that, too?
Perhaps you have noticed this--if I had ever taken physics (shudder) I'd probably know the name of the law for it--there is a special force of attraction exerted by injured body parts that compels further injury by anyone in the vicinity, despite their own intent. I first noticed this in childhood when a toe nail came off. I was positive that every single time my mom passed it, she stepped on my foot.
Now, anyone acquainted with my mother would dispute that. She is one of the most tenderhearted people I've ever met, far more so than I, and the idea of her purposefully hurting anyone is ludicrous. Nor is she so clumsy as to keep doing this accidentally (maybe once or twice, but certainly not over and over).
A similar occurrence took place with my sore jaw last night. Joelito smacked me in the jaw, and Elena headbutted me three times. Lest you get the wrong idea, this happened right after turning out the light. It was dark and they didn't see me. They had no intention of hurting me whatsoever. Joel actually cried for several minutes afterward when he saw that it hurt. Just as in the case with my foot, I was so sensitive that I noticed any incidental contact that probably wouldn't have even registered if I were not already sore.
This isn't limited to physical issues. Once I saw a couple of guys teasing each other, and happened to glance at one's face in the split second before the pain left his eyes. Now, the other guy was his best friend, and a genuinely nice person. He would have been horrified if he had realized that his words wounded his friend.
We've all seen those cruel barbs that are passed off as "just kidding" when everyone listening knows that they are meant to dig. This wasn't like that. It wasn't vicious or truly meant to hurt. Just gentle ribbing. And, if the friend hadn't been already tender in that spot, it wouldn't have hurt at all. But he never spoke up and said that it hurt. He hid it so quickly that his friend didn't see it.
I've been thinking a lot lately on the admonition from Galatians to bear one another's burdens. There is a full blog post brewing on that, but I'm not there yet. Somehow, though, I think there is something in that verse that ties in to being sensitive to sore spots in the people around us.
The Bible also tells us that each should bear his own burden, and I believe that we are responsible for dealing with our own hurts and letting them heal. So I certainly don't want to guilt-trip anyone into blaming themselves for an innocuous comment or action that just happens to hit a nerve with someone else, anymore than I would want my children to feel bad for accidentally bumping me.
I know, though, that for me it is so easy to miss things and not see the pain that my words or actions can cause, especially when no harm is intended. Maybe, if we open our eyes and look closely, we could get to be part of the healing process for someone close to us. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to soothe and help heal damage that might otherwise go unacknowledged? After the accidental bonks on the jaw, Joel and Elena carefully cuddled close to me and showered me with love. Even though they hadn't meant to hurt, their sweetness helped bring healing. What if we could do that, too?
Friday, October 16, 2009
Help! My daughter is a Betazoid!
As we drove home from the Children's Museum today, I amused myself comparing our family to different characters from Star Trek. I have a lot in common with Kathryn Janeway, particularly her appreciation for coffee (the finest organic suspension ever devised), love of spontaneous exploration (stopping to look at every insignificant little nebula or gaseous anomaly out there...), and a rather inconvenient conscience that focuses somewhat obsessively on my ideals.
I see Carlos as Captain Picard: extremely intelligent, well-spoken, a natural leader, interested in ancient civilizations and cultures. He has a lot of Spock, particularly in his reliance on logic and dry wit. There is also a bit of Commander Chakotay in him, and a rather striking physical resemblance there, too.
Joelito is harder to tell. Maybe Captian Kirk? He definitely has the charm, love of adventure and confidence at risk-taking (not to mention the occasional rule-breaking...). Elena is too small to say much, although I am reasonably sure that she is part Klingon (just try to take away something she wants and you'll be grateful that she doesn't swing a bat'leth).
Ariana, however, is unquestionably an empath. (She loves chocolate just as much as Deanna Troi, too). She soaks up the emotions of the people around her like a sponge. Even as a baby and toddler, she was remarkably attuned to other people's feelings. There are times when I delight in her sensitivity. Other times, like today, my heart breaks for her.
She had been looking forward to our trip for days. She counted down the time left every night. At first, she was enjoying it tremendously. Her abuelitos joined us, and we were having a great time exploring. She went through the store, chose her produce and ice cream and checked it out. We played on the spider web and then the playground. She was all smiles.
Then, in the archeology section, a little girl got in trouble and was given a time out. I am unaware of the offense that prompted it, but at least the parents weren't hitting her or screaming or being overtly cruel. The little girl began to cry, though, and Ariana grew more and more distressed until she was crying, too. We comforted her and moved to a different section, but to no avail. She stopped crying quickly, but was downcast for the rest of our time there. Every few minutes she would look at me with pain-filled eyes and whisper, "I want to go home".
How do you respond to something like that? When asked what was wrong, she just told me that she felt so sad for the little girl. I told her that I thought that the little girl was probably happy now and having fun. She was too scared to go back to the area we had left. For the rest of our time at the museum, she was sad.
Part of me wants her to develop callouses. To protect her heart and emotions more and be less sensitive. Yes, we have tried to teach and model caring and compassion for others, but we need some balance here! I've noticed at home that she will give in to whatever her siblings want rather than risk them getting upset. Even when it isn't verbalized, she has an acute awareness of the emotional climate around her.
I really need some help here, because I don't know what to do. If you or others that you are close to have that kind of exceptional sensitivity, how do you develop healthy boundaries or release the burdens that you take on from others? Are there any books you would recommend? I have always been naturally self-centered enough to distance myself when necessary, but she doesn't seem to have any protective mechanisms yet. I know that she has an amazing gift in her tenderness towards others, but how do we help nurture her so that she isn't torn to shreds because of it?
I see Carlos as Captain Picard: extremely intelligent, well-spoken, a natural leader, interested in ancient civilizations and cultures. He has a lot of Spock, particularly in his reliance on logic and dry wit. There is also a bit of Commander Chakotay in him, and a rather striking physical resemblance there, too.
Joelito is harder to tell. Maybe Captian Kirk? He definitely has the charm, love of adventure and confidence at risk-taking (not to mention the occasional rule-breaking...). Elena is too small to say much, although I am reasonably sure that she is part Klingon (just try to take away something she wants and you'll be grateful that she doesn't swing a bat'leth).
Ariana, however, is unquestionably an empath. (She loves chocolate just as much as Deanna Troi, too). She soaks up the emotions of the people around her like a sponge. Even as a baby and toddler, she was remarkably attuned to other people's feelings. There are times when I delight in her sensitivity. Other times, like today, my heart breaks for her.
She had been looking forward to our trip for days. She counted down the time left every night. At first, she was enjoying it tremendously. Her abuelitos joined us, and we were having a great time exploring. She went through the store, chose her produce and ice cream and checked it out. We played on the spider web and then the playground. She was all smiles.
Then, in the archeology section, a little girl got in trouble and was given a time out. I am unaware of the offense that prompted it, but at least the parents weren't hitting her or screaming or being overtly cruel. The little girl began to cry, though, and Ariana grew more and more distressed until she was crying, too. We comforted her and moved to a different section, but to no avail. She stopped crying quickly, but was downcast for the rest of our time there. Every few minutes she would look at me with pain-filled eyes and whisper, "I want to go home".
How do you respond to something like that? When asked what was wrong, she just told me that she felt so sad for the little girl. I told her that I thought that the little girl was probably happy now and having fun. She was too scared to go back to the area we had left. For the rest of our time at the museum, she was sad.
Part of me wants her to develop callouses. To protect her heart and emotions more and be less sensitive. Yes, we have tried to teach and model caring and compassion for others, but we need some balance here! I've noticed at home that she will give in to whatever her siblings want rather than risk them getting upset. Even when it isn't verbalized, she has an acute awareness of the emotional climate around her.
I really need some help here, because I don't know what to do. If you or others that you are close to have that kind of exceptional sensitivity, how do you develop healthy boundaries or release the burdens that you take on from others? Are there any books you would recommend? I have always been naturally self-centered enough to distance myself when necessary, but she doesn't seem to have any protective mechanisms yet. I know that she has an amazing gift in her tenderness towards others, but how do we help nurture her so that she isn't torn to shreds because of it?
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Independence Day
I've ranted before about the absurd and unhealthy obsession in the US that attempts to force independence from infancy. However, it is exciting to see child-initiated steps toward competence and achievement.
Ariana has been saying since she was two or three that she wants to be a chef. Last night, she wanted to exercise her culinary abilities by herself. She went and got the cutting board and a knife, and diced an onion. She put it in the pan, turned it on and began to saute it. As any cook knows, seasoning is of utmost importance, so she had Joelito collaborate. They added salt and pepper, and Joel threw in a good amount of rosemary and some red sugar sprinkles for color. (It would not have occurred to me to add sugar sprinkles, but the color was very nice, and the sugar helped the onions caramelize).
At this point, she came to me for help. I could tell that she wanted to finish the project on her own, so I logged her in to me favorite message board and turned her loose. I had explained before that one of the safety precautions we take on the Internet is using a pretend name. She promptly suggested Caramel (she has been very involved in her own role-playing game based on Candyland, and that is her favorite alter-ego). I thought that Caramel was pretty cute for the daughter of Dulce de leche. :)
She wrote a post introducing herself and requesting help with recipes (her spelling was a little inconsistent--I think it usually came out as "recepes") for onions and rosemary. She was so excited to see the replies! She read them aloud to me and Ooohed and Ahhhed over each one. She also wrote love notes to the posters who responded and asked them to please be her freind (sic). I intercepted her in mid-post as she thanked her new friends and invited them to our house, complete with address (which prompted further discussion about anonymity online).
After thinking about which recipes would work with the ingredients on hand and our allergens, she decided to add butter, garlic and potatoes to the onion-rosemary mixture. Carlos had been a bit dubious about the concoction early on (or perhaps just skeptical of the sprinkles?), but he couldn't believe how delicious it was once she finished it. It was really, really good!
Best of all was seeing how confident and happy my little girl was with her new cooking prowess. Despite my crunchy tendencies, I'm not fully into the while Continuum Concept thing. I found it fascinating, and agree to a point, but I am still too uptight to give it free reign. I'm sure some people are raising their eyebrows at the idea of letting a five year old use a knife and stove--I will say that we are firm about it being under supervision. But who knows? Maybe a decade or two from know, she will be graduating from culinary school and look back at the delight, creativity, self-reliance and independence she felt last night.
Today she wants to help me with meal planning and grocery shopping so that we will have everything we need for her next meal. :)
Ariana has been saying since she was two or three that she wants to be a chef. Last night, she wanted to exercise her culinary abilities by herself. She went and got the cutting board and a knife, and diced an onion. She put it in the pan, turned it on and began to saute it. As any cook knows, seasoning is of utmost importance, so she had Joelito collaborate. They added salt and pepper, and Joel threw in a good amount of rosemary and some red sugar sprinkles for color. (It would not have occurred to me to add sugar sprinkles, but the color was very nice, and the sugar helped the onions caramelize).
At this point, she came to me for help. I could tell that she wanted to finish the project on her own, so I logged her in to me favorite message board and turned her loose. I had explained before that one of the safety precautions we take on the Internet is using a pretend name. She promptly suggested Caramel (she has been very involved in her own role-playing game based on Candyland, and that is her favorite alter-ego). I thought that Caramel was pretty cute for the daughter of Dulce de leche. :)
She wrote a post introducing herself and requesting help with recipes (her spelling was a little inconsistent--I think it usually came out as "recepes") for onions and rosemary. She was so excited to see the replies! She read them aloud to me and Ooohed and Ahhhed over each one. She also wrote love notes to the posters who responded and asked them to please be her freind (sic). I intercepted her in mid-post as she thanked her new friends and invited them to our house, complete with address (which prompted further discussion about anonymity online).
After thinking about which recipes would work with the ingredients on hand and our allergens, she decided to add butter, garlic and potatoes to the onion-rosemary mixture. Carlos had been a bit dubious about the concoction early on (or perhaps just skeptical of the sprinkles?), but he couldn't believe how delicious it was once she finished it. It was really, really good!
Best of all was seeing how confident and happy my little girl was with her new cooking prowess. Despite my crunchy tendencies, I'm not fully into the while Continuum Concept thing. I found it fascinating, and agree to a point, but I am still too uptight to give it free reign. I'm sure some people are raising their eyebrows at the idea of letting a five year old use a knife and stove--I will say that we are firm about it being under supervision. But who knows? Maybe a decade or two from know, she will be graduating from culinary school and look back at the delight, creativity, self-reliance and independence she felt last night.
Today she wants to help me with meal planning and grocery shopping so that we will have everything we need for her next meal. :)
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Truth and consequences
When I first began my journey into gentle discipline, I was familiar with the Goldilocks-model of discipline: Papa Bear discipline, which was too harsh; Mama Bear discipline which was too lenient; leaving Baby Bear discipline which, of course, was just right. Most approaches that I heard were all variations of that theme (naturally, each book claimed the Baby Bear version) and many linked gender that way, too.
We threw those models away, preferring a more unconditional parenting approach. We don't use punishment, at least by the way I define punishment: intentionally making my children miserable in retaliation for misbehavior. And I admit, I am wary of the term "consequences" because so often it is simply a euphemism for punishment.
I imagine that some of my blog readers, especially those who are not around us often in real life, assume that we just don't use spankings as punishment but still use time outs and other negative reinforcement, or that we simply let the kids run wild and shield them from any consequence whatsover to their actions. In reality, we do allow some natural consequences, when we feel like the children can actually learn from them.
I don't usually blog about it for several reasons, among them: I wouldn't necessarily appreciate my own mistakes being blog fodder, so it seems a bit unfair to focus on my children's; they generally behave pretty well, so major issues are pretty rare; and 99% of the time, dealing with my own attitude is the key.
Still, we had some growing times recently, including the Most Famous Discipline Example of All, and I thought I'd share about them. Our responses are not perfect, nor are they necessarily my advice to others on how to handle similar instances. This is just a window into how it happened here.
I was chuckling with a friend recently how in any GD forum, if a mom starts to talk about how she cannot handle her child, and her fears for his future, veteran posters know before the mom mentions age that the kid is probably three. Terrible Twos? Not so much, in my experience. Threes, however, are two with a year of practice. Intense for everyone involved. Add some lapses with food allergies, and my dear son has had a rough couple of weeks. This cycle expanded as my darling and uber-sensitive five year old saw our attention directed towards her siblings and little left over for her.
Scenario Number 1--Yesterday, I planned to take them to Borders to celebrate the 30% discount for educators. They've been extraordinarily cooperative and well-behaved on our outings the last few months. This time, however, they were dawdling and not particularly interested in going. I pushed it because I thought it would be fun. Once we got inside the store, they quickly began a noisy game of chase. I told them to stop and was not heeded. So we immediately left.
What I did do: leave the store after the first request was not obeyed. I told them clearly exactly why we were leaving. Was it punishment? Eh, in the eye of the beholder. Certainly, they were not pleased. Ariana informed me that I was "very, very boring". I agreed that when they were not respectful of other people and we had to leave it was very boring. What I did not do: add on any punishment beyond returning to the house, or attempt to shame them. It is a tricky line, in my opinion, between letting them know how their actions affect others and deliberately trying to convict them of their wrongdoing. I believe that the Holy Spirit has a role there that is not mine to usurp. At the same time, as a loving teacher, I want to be honest about the results of their choices.
Scenario Number 2--Today, we went to the playground for lunch. The morning had been great, the time at the playground was fun for all of us, and they cheerfully agreed to leave as soon as I asked. Then came the dreadful playing-in-the-street-example. As we left, I was carrying the baby and my three year old saw a flock of birds. He darted away before I could grab him. He was across the parking lot before I could catch him. I was terrified, furious and all of the other emotions that you would imagine in that case.
What I did: grab him and hold his hand until we got to the van. Remind myself that his impulse control is still in the early stages of development, and that to a three year old excited about chasing birds, there is no thought of safety. I also, in my haste to reach him, dropped his sister's stuffed dog. A lady passing by gave us one of those looks and said loudly, "That kid needs a good spanking!" Apparently, she also picked up the stuffed dog and took it with her. :( As soon as the kids were in the van, I turned back to pick up the dog and it had disappeared. Ariana was heartbroken and began to cry.
As I looked for the toy dog, I saw a bird that had been run over. I brought Joel and Ariana over and let them see it. I explained that it had been hit by a car, and why I was so scared when Joel ran in the parking lot. I told him that I loved him and wanted him to be safe and not get hurt.
What I did not do: follow the busybody-dog-napper's advice (maybe she thought that the dog was Joel's and that she was teaching him a lesson?). Seeing how sad Ariana was made a pretty deep impression on him. The squashed bird was also a powerful object lesson. I didn't berate him or harp on it over and over after the first discussion. I didn't punish him (or the rest of us!) by trying to add anything more.
What we did do: find a replacement doggy for Ariana (though "it isn't the same one"), hold hands everywhere we went afterwards, and have a lovely time at Borders.
I also listened to him and Ariana talk on the ride home about the whole thing. They seemed to have retained the lesson, but in the future, I will still hold onto his hand in parking lots. And you know what? Even if I had spanked or punished in other ways, that wouldn't change. I would still hold hands and not expect a three year old to be responsible for his own safety.
The rest of the day has been good, unmarred by unnecessary drama. We rode bikes outside for awhile, and we're going to make a quick batch of pumpkin cupcakes before bed. We've had repentance and forgiveness and grace. Sure, there is a place for consequences, but I am glad that God removes our sin as far as the East from the West and that His mercies are new every morning.
We threw those models away, preferring a more unconditional parenting approach. We don't use punishment, at least by the way I define punishment: intentionally making my children miserable in retaliation for misbehavior. And I admit, I am wary of the term "consequences" because so often it is simply a euphemism for punishment.
I imagine that some of my blog readers, especially those who are not around us often in real life, assume that we just don't use spankings as punishment but still use time outs and other negative reinforcement, or that we simply let the kids run wild and shield them from any consequence whatsover to their actions. In reality, we do allow some natural consequences, when we feel like the children can actually learn from them.
I don't usually blog about it for several reasons, among them: I wouldn't necessarily appreciate my own mistakes being blog fodder, so it seems a bit unfair to focus on my children's; they generally behave pretty well, so major issues are pretty rare; and 99% of the time, dealing with my own attitude is the key.
Still, we had some growing times recently, including the Most Famous Discipline Example of All, and I thought I'd share about them. Our responses are not perfect, nor are they necessarily my advice to others on how to handle similar instances. This is just a window into how it happened here.
I was chuckling with a friend recently how in any GD forum, if a mom starts to talk about how she cannot handle her child, and her fears for his future, veteran posters know before the mom mentions age that the kid is probably three. Terrible Twos? Not so much, in my experience. Threes, however, are two with a year of practice. Intense for everyone involved. Add some lapses with food allergies, and my dear son has had a rough couple of weeks. This cycle expanded as my darling and uber-sensitive five year old saw our attention directed towards her siblings and little left over for her.
Scenario Number 1--Yesterday, I planned to take them to Borders to celebrate the 30% discount for educators. They've been extraordinarily cooperative and well-behaved on our outings the last few months. This time, however, they were dawdling and not particularly interested in going. I pushed it because I thought it would be fun. Once we got inside the store, they quickly began a noisy game of chase. I told them to stop and was not heeded. So we immediately left.
What I did do: leave the store after the first request was not obeyed. I told them clearly exactly why we were leaving. Was it punishment? Eh, in the eye of the beholder. Certainly, they were not pleased. Ariana informed me that I was "very, very boring". I agreed that when they were not respectful of other people and we had to leave it was very boring. What I did not do: add on any punishment beyond returning to the house, or attempt to shame them. It is a tricky line, in my opinion, between letting them know how their actions affect others and deliberately trying to convict them of their wrongdoing. I believe that the Holy Spirit has a role there that is not mine to usurp. At the same time, as a loving teacher, I want to be honest about the results of their choices.
Scenario Number 2--Today, we went to the playground for lunch. The morning had been great, the time at the playground was fun for all of us, and they cheerfully agreed to leave as soon as I asked. Then came the dreadful playing-in-the-street-example. As we left, I was carrying the baby and my three year old saw a flock of birds. He darted away before I could grab him. He was across the parking lot before I could catch him. I was terrified, furious and all of the other emotions that you would imagine in that case.
What I did: grab him and hold his hand until we got to the van. Remind myself that his impulse control is still in the early stages of development, and that to a three year old excited about chasing birds, there is no thought of safety. I also, in my haste to reach him, dropped his sister's stuffed dog. A lady passing by gave us one of those looks and said loudly, "That kid needs a good spanking!" Apparently, she also picked up the stuffed dog and took it with her. :( As soon as the kids were in the van, I turned back to pick up the dog and it had disappeared. Ariana was heartbroken and began to cry.
As I looked for the toy dog, I saw a bird that had been run over. I brought Joel and Ariana over and let them see it. I explained that it had been hit by a car, and why I was so scared when Joel ran in the parking lot. I told him that I loved him and wanted him to be safe and not get hurt.
What I did not do: follow the busybody-dog-napper's advice (maybe she thought that the dog was Joel's and that she was teaching him a lesson?). Seeing how sad Ariana was made a pretty deep impression on him. The squashed bird was also a powerful object lesson. I didn't berate him or harp on it over and over after the first discussion. I didn't punish him (or the rest of us!) by trying to add anything more.
What we did do: find a replacement doggy for Ariana (though "it isn't the same one"), hold hands everywhere we went afterwards, and have a lovely time at Borders.
I also listened to him and Ariana talk on the ride home about the whole thing. They seemed to have retained the lesson, but in the future, I will still hold onto his hand in parking lots. And you know what? Even if I had spanked or punished in other ways, that wouldn't change. I would still hold hands and not expect a three year old to be responsible for his own safety.
The rest of the day has been good, unmarred by unnecessary drama. We rode bikes outside for awhile, and we're going to make a quick batch of pumpkin cupcakes before bed. We've had repentance and forgiveness and grace. Sure, there is a place for consequences, but I am glad that God removes our sin as far as the East from the West and that His mercies are new every morning.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Wrestling with angels (revamped)
I love words. I am not athletic, at all. That tends to come through in my interactions with my children. Today, though, one of my angels was finding words inadequate. He required wrestling instead. There were a lot of little things that had stressed our relationship and his self control lately, and I've found that when he needs to connect, it needs to be physical. So, we spent all morning playing together.
In Michael Gurian's books about boys, he explains a lot about the neurodevelopment of boys and the biological differences in the way that their brains work. Among other things, they are wired for action. I see that in my girls, too, so I don't know how much of it is a gender thing, but I think that most of us are aware that all children need active play and plenty of large muscle action. Sometimes it is harder to put that into the context of our relationship and connection with them, but I believe it is vital.
All children need rough-housing and physical play with us. Just watching them at the park isn't enough. Part of our expression of love for them and theirs for us is best expressed physically. It's a lot easier to just let go and not be bothered, to send them to their room or a time out or whatever. But like Jacob in the Bible, the key to this wrestling match is in holding fast to them and not letting go.
So today we played our favorite pushing game where he grabs my hands and tries to push me backward. We wrestled. We played catch with rolled up socks. We snuggled and cuddled. We roared like lions and stomped like elephants to show our feelings. We laughed and tickled. (Quick aside--he loves tickling. Ariana hates it. Our children's bodies belong to them, and we make it clear that tickling is by invitation only. If anyone wants to stop, that must be respected immediately. Check out this article.)
Frankly, I'm exhausted. I'm totally convinced that it was worth it, though. I see our connection getting back to where it was before. I have a pretty good idea that tomorrow will involve more of the same (let's hope for a good night of sleep tonight!), but if I'm going to work out, I think the rewards from this will be far greater than merely burning calories.
In Michael Gurian's books about boys, he explains a lot about the neurodevelopment of boys and the biological differences in the way that their brains work. Among other things, they are wired for action. I see that in my girls, too, so I don't know how much of it is a gender thing, but I think that most of us are aware that all children need active play and plenty of large muscle action. Sometimes it is harder to put that into the context of our relationship and connection with them, but I believe it is vital.
All children need rough-housing and physical play with us. Just watching them at the park isn't enough. Part of our expression of love for them and theirs for us is best expressed physically. It's a lot easier to just let go and not be bothered, to send them to their room or a time out or whatever. But like Jacob in the Bible, the key to this wrestling match is in holding fast to them and not letting go.
So today we played our favorite pushing game where he grabs my hands and tries to push me backward. We wrestled. We played catch with rolled up socks. We snuggled and cuddled. We roared like lions and stomped like elephants to show our feelings. We laughed and tickled. (Quick aside--he loves tickling. Ariana hates it. Our children's bodies belong to them, and we make it clear that tickling is by invitation only. If anyone wants to stop, that must be respected immediately. Check out this article.)
Frankly, I'm exhausted. I'm totally convinced that it was worth it, though. I see our connection getting back to where it was before. I have a pretty good idea that tomorrow will involve more of the same (let's hope for a good night of sleep tonight!), but if I'm going to work out, I think the rewards from this will be far greater than merely burning calories.
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