a letter to the toybox

Just finished reading a post on baby showers by a lovely lady who's been around the blogosphere long enough to know how to write a post that gets one thinking!  One thing that struck me, as I commented is how my own views towards materialism have just about turned 180 degrees in terms of priorities.

Stuff is one of those pervasively ubiquitous categories in life, at least for us in the industrialized world.  Lucky us.  >.<  It begins for us, over a bowl of cheerios, interrupting the stories on that magic box, the ones our parents might read to us if the power goes out, but have come alive through the mediums we call network tv.  A flash of colour.  A catchy tune.   Little girls with a toy so captivating, it causes her peers to gravitate in her direction, as though--almost--against their will.  In the thirty second lifetime of that ad, our children are hooked. Not chemically.  Not physically, though the craving and nagging are a certain common physical symptoms of this addiction.  No, this is more insidious.  They are hooked emotionally, and even instinctively.

We are told, in our formative years, that we NEED this, or we HAVE to have it. Why?  Because our friends will love us for it.  We are told during the practice stage, as we shakily attempt those mysterious grown up rituals, that this will ATTRACT, this will ENERGIZE, this will secure our place in the group.  We are told as adults, as mothers and fathers, that we SHOULD get this, or we OUGHT to have that.  Because it's good for our family.  And those of us that believe the promises on the screen, share one fundamental thing.  I believe, if asked to sum up their immediate thoughts and feelings into one succinct word, very few shopaholics would say first, "I am happy."  They might admit to inadequacy, or anxiety.  Depending on the number of bags in their hands, perhaps multiplied by the level of social distinction conveyed by the names blazoned across them, you find one or two shoppers who feel "GREAT! CHARGED! READY TO GO!"  That would make sense, given the levels of dopamine their brains are releasing because of what they carry in their hands.

What really frightens me is that, in our society, we have progressed to a point where accumulation of things can be a harmless passion, a career, and a brain-warping disease all at once.  Very few slices of life can claim the same.  Some of us have almost forgotten the kiss of non-recycled air, or the soul-calming effect of a view with neither billboard, nor ad.  There are those of us who would rank the thrill of the deal higher than the true accomplishment of having a quiet, happy home.  As long as we're talking about chemical brain reaction, why not remember instead, the nerves that fire when you hold your infant close, and your very cells recognize her as a part of you. Can a hoarder, or a salesman, or an antique cola bottle collector remember the sound of a song sung just for them?  The flattery of a child who screams with delight as you walk through the door?

The picture of a person reduced to covetous greed is not new at all.  We've seen this before, and all we did was create a much more complex model.  We're good at that. However, we're also pretty good at loving. Says the 7 billionth baby, anyway! ;) So, what say we challenge ourselves?  Can we, as industrialized humans let go of the 'paper or plastic' and focus instead on 'carrots or broccoli;'  'Empty papertowel tube, or box that the Crockpot came in;'  'Go for a walk, or play house'?  Can we place trust in our tiny humans, that they will thrive if they are Disney-less and remember that saying no will not transform our beautiful babies into outcasts, nor must it break them.

I believe we can do it, but it will take strength.  And it will take our greatest strength.  But the important part (the part that would be flashed on the screen a half dozen times were this playing on latenight TV) is that we can do it.

Says Baby 5,079,451,844, !

worry wart

There's maybe an inch of snow on the ground, and I'm wondering if today is the day The Other Half doesn't come home because he's gotten himself hospitalized.  Does that seem a little extreme?  Of course it does.  Even to me.  That doesn't mean my mind isn't revolving around the repercussions of a car accident in my family.

If I were a superhero, my name would be Worst-Case Scenario Girl.  If the hijinks I get myself into don't end in one, well my brain is fixated on what would happen if it did... I read internet articles and wonder who around me will eventually axe murder me one day.  I notice the tub needs a cleaning, and wonder what horrible bacterial infection I've given my daughter by making her bathe in it.  I see a beetle scuttle across the floor, and image search cockroaches, and bed bugs, which inevitably leads me to Youtube videos of necrotic spiderbites from across the world, wherein, I take my glass of wine and sit rocking and humming in a corner.  Daily life on this vicious rock can be enough to give a girl the thousand yard stare.

I'll admit it, it's probably stupid.  And 99.8% of the things I worry about will never happen to me, or most of the people I love.  It's that .2% that's left that eats at me...

What's your .2%?

get out of my spot!

I have a confession to make:  I am absolutely the kind of person who will make your car alarm go off if I see you parking in the parent spots without a car seat in the back.  Yes, it's immature.  Yes, it's unnecessary.  I've been told that two wrongs don't make a right.  But sometimes two wrongs make a very pregnant, hormonal woman feel like justice has been done.

That being said, this seems to be an issue that raises some hackles, both on the sides of tired parents with young children, and on the side of Average Joe Blow, who seems to be sick of not meriting any special treatment.  This blogger wrote a post on this subject and boy did her readers let her have it!   I found this comment particularly venomous:

"This is the dumbest complaint I've ever heard. If the weather is like it is in summer and I have been looking around a carpark for awhile. I'm going to park in that spot.

I hope I never end up so self entitled about procreating/having kids.

It's not the parents god given right to be treated special because they have kids.

I should be upset because there is no "non-kid" parking. See some dumbass kid run in front of my car or have some parent and their latest designer pram scratch my nice car. Isn't that a stupid idea? Thought so.

Many people have had kids and did not need to have pathetic special car parking spots for them. I think parent parking should be given to disabled people. Someone who actually needs it."

Signed, Over Entitled Parents.

First of all, genius, it's all "non-kid" parking.  You can park anywhere you can squeeze your ride in, because there's NOTHING PREVENTING YOU FROM DOING SO.

On the other hand, I'd like enough room in between my car and yours to open the door all the way so my kid can climb in without hurting herself.  I don't like to park next to people who can't center their cars when parking because of this.  And sadly, it's a lot more likely that I'd have to squeeze one of my daughters through a space barely big enough for their tiny bodies out in General Parking than it is in the parents spots.

I mean, lets look at this objectively.  Closest to the entrance of any business are spots for vehicles driven by people with special needs.  These needs range from general handicap spots, to parent parking, to reserved police spots, to loading zones for fricks sake.  Is this guy trying to tell me that it's ok to park in any one of these on a beautiful summer day just because we're all equal?  No, I'm sorry, it doesn't work that way.  There are certain people who have certain parking needs.  You wouldn't expect the guy delivering the cases of Coke to park at the back of the lot, would you?  You wouldn't expect the police officer to walk a shoplifter almost a kilometre through traffic to his cruiser, would you?  You wouldn't expect your grandmother with the wheelchair to have to park hundreds of feet away.  And you wouldn't want your own older children to have to negotiate large, often crowded, above all DANGEROUS parking lots while you struggle with recalcitrant strollers for your younger children... WOULD YOU?  

When it comes right down to it, this is simply ignorance rearing it's ugly head once again.  People who don't have kids, can't understand fully the offense they incur when they callously take a parent reserved parking spot.  It's not their fault.

What is their fault is when they use that ignorance as an excuse to make someone else's day a little more shitty.  And if I can return that favor back to you by kicking your tire, and making you come out and shut off your car alarm, well at least you won't have to walk too far, right?

Mammalian Parenting

I've been in the parenting arena for around three and a half years, and as a reader, I've explored all kinds of literature on child-rearing.  There are as many methods, and programs being sold out there as there are parents with opinions in Western nations.  And so many of them are conflicting!  Attachment Parenting.  Tiger Parenting.  Co-sleep, NEVER co-sleep, breast is best, formula is fine.  Let him cry it out.  Crying it out will leave your child a damaged shell of a human being with no hope of ever having an ordinary, fulfilling human relationship, and dead gorilla eyes, unless you A) give birth naturally, B) breast feed exclusively until the kid can write an annotated, sourced essay on why you really need to stop breast-feeding him and C) buy my book on the only right way ever to raise a baby.

It is great that all these resources are available to parents who may or may not have had much contact with young children.  I mean, lets be honest: babies are scary.  For everyone.  With the obvious exception of the childless, there isn't an obstetrician, or neonatal nurse on the planet who didn't have a mild panic attack the first time they were handed their own little bundle of joy, and these people have years of higher education focused on nothing BUT little bundles of joy!

But with all the various methods, advice from Mom and Grandma, and half-baked semi-literate forum posts spouting half understood second-hand expert opinion floating around out there, how on earth is Average Joe Mom or Dad supposed to sort truth from truth-that-was-accurate-before-we-knew-that-washing-your-hands-after-taking-a-dump-would-prevent-illness?

I mean, obviously you have to take any information with a grain of salt.  Do your own research, form your own opinions.  But why is it that once you've found a method, or opinion that jibes with your own feelings about parenthood do you somehow always end up feeling worse about your own parenting?

To give a little perspective, lets use the Booger Pile as an example.  Just before she was born, I was given a copy of Your Baby and Child by Penelope Leach.  Leach is a proponent of Empathic Parenting, and I just soaked up her words.  She made me want to understand my baby, and figure out what she wanted so I could give it to her each and every time, creating a happy, well-cared-for infant as well as a relaxed, confident me.  And I have to give credit where credit's due.  The Booger Pile was an exceedingly easy infant who grew into a confident and charming toddler.  She's smart as a whip, and even with her tantrums, and sometimes obstinate behavior, she's really an easy child to love.

Unfortunately, any parent knows, it can be harder sticking with any one parenting method than sticking to whatever fad diet Jenny Craig's schilling this month.  As my beautiful baby grew up, I've tried all kinds of different methods and bits of advice on her, with mixed results, including even, yes, the dreaded Evil Cry it Out.  I was trying to wean her away from co-sleeping with that one, and it lasted about forty five minutes before I gave up and took her for a cuddle in the bed we shared until October of this year. And before anyone decides to flame me about it, my own conscience has had me wondering multiple times if I caused her shyness by walking away all those times her crying got to be a little too much to handle.

Even when I'm following my own preferred method to the letter, I still wonder about potential contradictions.  Leach says allow your child to suck her fingers.  The Other Half screeches that you can take away a pacifier but you can't take away a thumb.  Leach says swaddle your child for the tactile comfort and womb-like feeling around her limbs.  Darcia Narvaez believes swaddling will render your infant catatonic, and impede growth as her systems "shut down for self-preservation" after being "exhausted" by being left to cry it out.

And then along comes Dr. Peter Gray telling me about children from islands in the South Pacific who play free range close to where their older siblings go to school, amid miriad dangers such as matches, machetes, the unpredictable South Pacific ocean, and HIV-infested gibbon monkeys for all I know without an injury, squabble, or care in the world, and isn't that something compared with our own needy, phobic, attention whore Western children.

FFFFFF-WHA?

So all that work I put into being an "Empathic Parent", teaching my daughter that her needs will be met on demand means nothing because I don't consider Coke and eight hours of TV a need?  My kid has temper tantrums, and meltdowns.  Often.  She's three, and the coolest thing in the world to her involves throwing maple tree seeds off a stair case, and yelling 'hey-copter! hey-copter!'  She has simple emotions, and basic reactions.  She may demand my attention (when i haven't given it to her freely in the first place, which is my own fault), and she may whine, and according to Free Range parenting, it's all because I don't kick her outside and lock the door behind me.

Forgoing the obvious argument that I don't live on a small island in the South Pacific, and there's something outside my front door populated by heavy chunks of rapidly moving metal which have probably killed more children in the last year than the entire population of said island, it's still a ridiculous comparison to make.  Any child growing up in a semi-rural environment, with peers within safe walking distance is going to be able to be independent and autonomous at a young age. 80% of Canadians live in urban centers and it is simply not feasible to apply free range methodology to these children.  At least not the younger ones for sure. For my Booger Pile, playing without direct adult supervision is limited to when I go downstairs with a load of laundry, and will be for quite a while unfortunately.

But that's the thing.  As much as I would love to take the best part of every parenting theory out there and apply them to my own child, there will always be one more waiting around some dark corner to jump out and make me feel like a Social Services case for all that I've been doing or not doing as the case may be.  It's impossible.

Which is why I will be developing my own parenting method.  It's called Mammalian Parenting and ascribes to the theory that we've been doing something right for around 3 million years now, so lets not overthink the issue, because when we make something too complicated, (writers of Inception, I'm looking at you) We Always Fuck it Up.  And if you're in any doubt your child is truly yours...give her a good licking.  You know.  Just to make sure.