No, I'm not having another baby sister, my baby sister is having a baby.
(I thought about making t-shirts for when we were together at Christmas that said, on hers: "No, I'm not fat, I'm pregnant!" and on mine: "No, I'm just fat, SHE's pregnant", but then I realized that I was the only one who was going to find that side-splittingly funny, so I didn't bother. Also I just ran out of time, which is probably more like the real reason it didn't happen.)
Anyway, this coming weekend is Meg's shower and I am planning to drive north with a vanful of baby stuff to pass along. So I spent Sunday afternoon in the attic, going through the stuff that we are (barring unforseen accidents) done with. I packed up the swing and the bathtub and the side-sleeping positioner thingy and the diaper pail and the carseat and the changing pad and a whole host of infant toys. And all that was okay. I packed up the sterilizer and the bottles and the breastpump and the boppy and that was mostly okay, though I had a few pangs thinking about snuggly babies smelling of milk and drool.
It was all going swimmingly, in fact, until I got to the totes of baby clothes. Now, don't get me wrong here. I am not planning any more babies for our four-member family and I am thrilled beyond measure that my sister is not only going to have a baby (which in my head I tend to think of as the baby she is having for me so I don't have to have another one but can still enjoy the silly delights of babyhood) and I'm even happier that she is the kind of sister (and baby-mama) who is looking forward to dressing her wee one in the things that we loved putting on mine. And lest you think I'm just greedily and perversely hoarding baby clothes I don't need in my attic, I've even sorted through this stuff at least twice before now -- once to find things for my friend Jodie's son and another time to see what needed to go in our yard sale.
And maybe that's part of the problem -- nah, problem is too strong a word -- call it part of the reason why this was so hard. Because every other time I've set aside the best stuff, the most special stuff, with the sure knowledge that it wasn't gone yet. You know, just in case, or whatever. But this time it's serious. This time it's all going and while I am so happy with where my kids are, and I'm so looking forward to seeing my niece or nephew in the same little sleeper suits my babies wore, driving this stuff up to New England is something of a rite of passage. It's the final statement that we are, in fact, done with babies.
There is something very final about this whole process. It is delightful to anticipate the next stage of kidhood, and I really am enjoying having bigger kids around (especially since Matthew is listening soooo much better these day). But as the attic empties out, it begins to hit me that now we are going to be exclusively big kid parents and that feels so weird. I did keep the outfits they each wore home from the hospital and some other little sentimental things, but mostly I'm ready, even though it's feeling hard.
It's an important step in both of our families and a good one. And more importantly, I really hope they have a place to put all this stuff. I'd kinda forgotten how much gear little babies require! Later I think I'll go up and look at my almost empty attic (and ponder the things my mother is inevitably going to send back with me to make her attic look the same. I think next time we visit her we'd better drive the car instead...)
Pray for fair weather this weekend up the eastern coast, I'm gonna need it!
I have a friend who has a blog. And her blog is terrific. It's so terrific that it makes me feel awful. Not because my own blog isn't great -- when I actually manage to get entries in, my blog is pretty terrific too.
No, it makes me feel awful because instead of being thrilled for her and impressed by the wonderful things she's doing with her kids, the blog just makes me angry. It makes me angry in the same way that holiday letters make me angry -- you know the ones where it's not enough that the writer herself survived brain cancer, she also nursed her cat through brain cancer too. And now the cat is writing a novel about the experience. But that's just not fair. Because the writers of the holiday letters usually are trying to be impressive, and my friend really isn't doing that at all.
Yes, she is happy about what she's doing with her kids, but the main goal of the blog is not to brag but rather to make a record for herself and also to share the info with other folks who are striving to achieve similar goals in similar ways. Perhaps most importantly, the blog is not being written at me. Or for me. In fact, she would probably prefer it if I didn't read it at all. That's the obvious answer to this particular problem -- if it's upsetting me, why read it?
But somehow it's like pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurts. I don't know what I banged my psyche on with this one, but I can't resist the temptation to bang it again and again and again, and that's just so stupid! Of course I get frustrated with myself for not being more one-on-one with my kids. Of course I could be more organized and forward-looking and creative in my day to day world. Those frustrations make sense to me. But I also know I'm a good parent and my kids are right where they ought to be with their learning and development. So why does her writing about what her kids are doing make me feel this way? I get so angry and resentful that it's not only unreasonable, it's just plain silly.
After all, I am doing great things -- for example, this week I cleaned out and re-organized the craft and games closet. Our office supplies (extra pens and pencils, tape, scissors, staples, etc.) all have a home for the first time and that home has a label on it to show where everything goes. The kids' art supplies have labelled drawers and things are actually getting put away before bedtime! Last week I made four loaves of bread from scratch, all of which were delicious, and we have not eaten out (except once and that was Tim's early birthday dinner which his parents paid for) in almost three weeks. My kitchen countertops are almost clear and I am so far maintaining the kitchen organizational work I did last weekend.
And the kids are are making terrific strides. Mara is working on algebra (second grade algebra, but algebra nonetheless) and reading like a house on fire. Last night she had a library book about Pegasus and was reading aloud about "the king of Lysias" like it was a phrase she encountered every day. Her art work is wonderful and she's managing conflicts at school like a pro. Matthew's artwork is also developing beautifully. Today he drew a "red eyed alligator" that was just amazing and his handwriting and reading are both coming along very nicely. He still has a long way to go with listening and paying attention to what I ask him to do, but every day we notice small ways in which he is maturing.
All in all, we are slowly becoming the people I hoped we would be. I'm happy with our accomplishments. I'm happy with who we are as a family (okay, there are things we still need to work on, but if I didn't perceive things still to conquer, I think we'd be in even bigger trouble). We haven't achieved our goals by following the same paths my friend has taken, but I didn't set out to get there the same way, so that ought to be okay, right?
And maybe that's the problem with reading her blog. I get the feeling, while reading, that her sense of triumph is always at my expense -- okay that's not fair, it's not about ME, but it is definitely about conventional parenting -- and I mostly qualify for parenting "that way". Now if you asked her directly, I know she would tell you that I am a terrific parent and my kids are amazing. I know this because she has told me both things on more than one occasion. We've talked many times about the fact that, despite our radically different choices about how to approach them, many of our ultimate goals are exactly the same.
But her blog is something different. Her blog is her own place to declare the triumph of her "UN-" approach over a more mainstream way of doing things. Don't get me wrong, she has done her research. She's all about the research. But my friend is an all or nothing kind of person, so the blog reports (sometimes defiantly) the amazing and unconventional things her kids are learning and I think that's where my frustation comes in. Because I wish I didn't always feel like her blog was saying "so there!" to all the things we've decided to do differently.
Kym and I were talking the other day about the issue of how and where kids learn. We didn't have a whole lot of time, but I still want to understand why it's so hard for parents who have made different choices to rationally discuss how we've come to those decisions. When I try to talk to our friend about her decision to home- (or un-)school her kids, and my decision to send my kids to public school, it's hard for us to be non-judgemental with our words.
My friend has made many unconventional choices since she became a mom and I know she has faced plenty of flak from family and acquaintances about those choices. So I can understand why any conversation about our different approaches might feel like another attack. But I am frustrated that there is not a better forum for talking about the pros and cons of each decision without either of us having to feel defensive. Like discussions between any two disparate groups, this is just not a conversation that's easy to have.
And maybe that's why the blog tends to drive me so nuts. Of course her blog is her own place to sing about how well her approach is working for her family and her kids, and I respect that. I am proud of her for sticking to what she believes is best for her family. I'm impressed by the ideas she has and the things her kids are doing. I'm glad it's working for her and I'm so happy she's happy.
But sometimes, like a big baby, I want to shout that even those of us who are taking a more conventional road have made some difficult decisions. We've not all come to our choices by just taking the easy road. I could have kept Mara home and schooled her here. For me, that would have been the easiest thing to do. And because she is a kid who wants to learn about everything, she would have been great. But it's pretty obvious that she is just the kind of kid who will soar wherever she is.
In the end we decided that she would be best served (for now anyway) by a more conventional school setting. Tim and I have plenty to offer her, but I also know the lessons I can't provide, and for those she needed some space to learn outside our home. It doesn't mean we've stopped teaching her. It doesn't mean our values and decisions won't be the primary influences in her life. It just means she gets some outside perspectives too, and I'm pretty content with that.
Matthew is the same way -- maybe more so. When we sent him to the Y for preschool last year, I will admit that a great deal of the motivation was to get him out of the house so I could have a break. I was not well then, I really wasn't. But he has benefitted so much from being with other adults besides just us. He is learning to manage the fact that rules aren't always the same for every environment, and for him that was always going to be one of the most difficult lessons of all. We're doing plenty of other learning things at home and he's an amazing kid, but he also needs more than I can give him by myself.
I think what it comes down to is that for me, moderation and sometimes a little compromise is more successful than absolute adherence to any one idea. A little Kool-Aid, sometimes, isn't going to poison anybody. A couple of hours of Leap Pad or SpongeBob isn't going to turn my children's brains to mush. If they have Cocoa Krispies some mornings, on other mornings they eat oatmeal or whole wheat toast. And they're doing okay. But I still don't know how to talk about that without sounding defensive or without giving offense to someone whose convictions are different from mine. We actively strive to give our kids the best. We want them to be healthy, strong, happy, well-adjusted, and well-informed, but there are so many ways to achieve those goals. I think I will probably continue to struggle with the decisions (and sometimes the compromises) I've made as a parent, but for me the worst part is the fact that I haven't yet found a good place to discuss these things.
Maybe I'll follow my own advice and try reading in moderation. Maybe I'll just work harder at remembering it isn't even remotely about me and whatever anybody else is doing, I'm okay with where and who I am. In any case, I think I mostly just needed to get the frustration off my chest, and you were all longing for a huge blog entry that had nothing to do with a list of house projects, right?