Parenting
It’s so simple. But I’ve got it. The secret to having your kid turn out great. I mean GREAT! Outstanding. His or her best self. It’s so simple I almost shouldn’t tell you and make you guess. I’ve arrived at this secret after hours and hours of analyzing parenting styles and habits. If I know you, you may have been part of my secret study. Sorry. And it’s pretty basic. And I’m sure I’m right. Ready? Pay attention to your child. Mind blown? Me too. Here’s why. The experts offer a million different styles and solutions to your child’s developmental and behavioral antics. But every single one’s suitability depends on who your child actually is. You can only make the appropriate determinations if you’ve been paying attention to your child. Not who you to who think your child should be, or how you want them to act. Observe first; then match temperament with style selection. If you are attentive, you’ll make the best decisions you can on discipline, nutrition, and love. The mere fact you’re paying attention, whether you’re a lax or strict parent, means your child is getting you from you. And that’s (almost) all they need to thrive. And it’s almost all you need to be a good parent. The attentive parent is inevitably introspective. You kinda have to be. Because you make determinations based on observations. And then have to draw some conclusions. And then have to form some opinions. And then have to implement them. Case…
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It is a state of mind, ladies. Says the 20 week pregnant woman. Finding out gender on Friday! Where was I when I was this pregnant with SweetPea–(oh, wait, that was 33 weeks)? And it wasn’t until my recent trip to ny to help my sister Molly with her new baby girl (LOVE HER!!!) that I realized this. It’s a state of mind. Walking the Brooklyn streets to run errands for my sister, or up to the doctor’s office with her, I marveled. The women in Brooklyn look chic. In their snowcoats. With their boots and hats on. Pushing a stroller, dragging a doggie, or sipping a latte. They looked like they either cared about their appearance, or they thought they were hot stuff despite it. Lesson learned for me: believe you’re hot. Do it. So that means if you’re wearing yoga pants and a nursing bra (despite ceasing nursing months and months ago) (oh, yeah, the non-underwire one), care enough to add earrings. And a normal shirt. Not one that requires ironing after you wear it, mind you. But not one that has holes or stains, or an unflattering midsection. If you’re newly pregnant, relax. You get a pass. If you’re newly a parent, relax. You do too. The rest of us do not. I repeat: do not get a pass. Beyond the basics of hygiene, thanks to my Tia Ali for the space heater in my bathroom that enables more frequent showers, and dressing yourself beyond the look of…
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Where have you been, Nell, for the last electronic week? I know you all missed me as dearly as I did you–but put your tissues aside, for I’m here! Having abandoned my brood and packed my bags for New York last week, tah-dah me + my newest love: my sister’s second baby girl! Our mama was amazing enough to have been out here the month leading up to the birth, and then for the first week (almost) of baby girl’s life. Then she returned to the land of the below zero temps to take over my kiddos, and I flew out here to love up these ladies. Nota bene: flying almost 20 weeks pregnant means you should check your heavy “carry-on” bag that you have to shove into the overhead compartment, and if you suffer from migraines brought on by air trapped in your sinus cavity as the plane descents, bring nasal saline as a pre-emptive strike. And if you’re going to throw up in the car on the way to the airport, bring a change of . . . errr . . . you know what happens. But once I arrived, it’s been easy sailing. No throwing up! Sleeping in! Playing with my adorable Goddaughter who’s 2.5, helping with the bebe. For those of you who know my sister’s eldest had a very rocky start, you’ll be pleased and relieved to hear everything went well this go ’round. Rockstar mom in natural labor; healthy baby on the other side…
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Or so says SuperBoy when talking about Advent. We’ve begun a new season, we Catholics. It’s Advent, the four weeks before Christmas where we try to prepare our hearts for the birth of our Savior. It also is a frantic time for everyone, right? Holiday gifts, parties, baking, a quick scurry to thank everyone in your life, Do Good Diapers, the postman, the vendors who stock my goods in their sweet stores (Teeny Bee Boutique, Peapods, Brooklyn Herborium, Creative Kidstuff, Green Mom Guide), my Godfather, my kids’ Godparents, everyone. My girlfriend Laura wrote a great post about the how advent is a frenzy, but instead of freaking out, we can embrace the chaos. I’m all about that. My sister had another girl yesterday! Another sweet niece! And I head out to visit her for a week and hopefully help with the chaos of going from one child to two. My December chaos feels more proximate because when I come home, all those presents need to be ready, all that planning won’t have room to procrastinate. Let’s just say me + Amazon have been busy the last week or so. Now to find wrapping paper. With all this flurry going on, and still being vomit-queen of pregnancy at 18 weeks, when SuperBoy talks about getting the garden of his heart cleaned up so that God can come and visit, I say, pull out the weeds, compost it up, and let’s dig in. We always talk about our relationship to God like…
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On facebook the other day, a friend linked to an article in Cosmo, of all places, about a woman’s experience with her abortion and subsequent testimony before the hearings in Texas on limiting abortions on a number of fronts, including no abortions after 20 weeks unless the life of the mother was in grave harm. The author described her difficult road of infertility and after treatments, voila! A baby girl on the way! Much rejoicing. Until at 19 weeks she learned her daughter had spinal bifida, a serious medical condition needing multiple surgeries, and probably a slew of other health conditions related to it. She wouldn’t have a healthy baby. Her daughter wouldn’t have a normal life. She opted to abort her daughter, citing the horror of a bad medical condition, the difficulty their family would face, and the awful quality of her daughter’s life. She and her husband were comfortable with their decision, and wanted to ensure that other families faced with this knowledge after 20 weeks could opt for the same. This isn’t a post about being pro-life or pro-choice or anti-choice or pro-abortion, whatever you want to call it. I really was struck by the notion of how a medical diagnosis could set the value on human life. On the worth of the child. On the decision to keep or not to keep. When people are handicapped or developmentally different or special needs, are they as valued by us? Not by our society as a blanket whole,…
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You see those maternity clothing ads: svelte woman who happens to have a tiny bump looking glamorously out the window, and you think: that should be me pregnant. Then you are pregnant. Maybe it’s your first or your seventh. So maybe these inroads have already been carved, and maybe they haven’t. Each pregnancy is different, you gain and carry weight differently, you feel sick at different intervals, and thusly, my thoughts apply to first & seventh pregnancies, right? I have a whole section on pregnancy. See it all here. I’m in my third pregnancy and watching my body change before my very eyes. In some ways I’m rejoicing because finally, at 15 weeks, you can really tell I’m pregnant. But in other ways, I’m freaked out. Everything is going to stretch and push out again. I cannot get away from my own body and/or baby. I have a long way to go still! Five important things to remind yourself when your pregnant body is freaking you out: 1) Weight gain is good. Say you’ve been athletic, fit, and in shape your whole pre-baby life. Say you’ve struggled with food pre-baby. Say you worked really hard to be at a weight you felt was healthy and comfortable. Then it all goes out the window. You are gaining weight!! Your thighs are squishing together! Your butt is riding up your back! Your chest–well, that’s a bonus, I guess–is giving you that she-doesn’t-buy-the-right-bra-size look. And you just look like you’re wearing an inner-tube…
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