The Great Parenting Debate

It has recently occurred to me that parenting is a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" type of situation.  You can never win.  It's best to just accept that from the get go and realize that no matter which parenting philosophy you adhere to.... you're wrong.  I give you three examples below:

SLEEPING ARRANGEMENTS:

Co-Sleeping:  This is the best situation for raising an emotionally healthy child who feels like he is an integral and accepted part of the family.  If you don't, he will never feel truly loved.  He will never achieve the ability to relate to other members of the human race.  He will eventually move to Arkansas where he will live in a remote cabin surrounded by 32 cats named Hank and one named Zazzy.  You will never receive so much as a post card from him because you failed him in his infancy.

Separate Sleeping:  Only people who are hoping to smother their babies, ruin their marriages and raise a pansy would even consider sharing a bed with their infant.  Life is tough.  Babies need to learn to be independent and have their own space where they can get a full night sleep.  If you don't teach your baby this early on he will never leave your home.  He will sit on the couch day after day, eventually becoming the World Champion at video games.  He will require a snuggle every night before he is able to drift off to sleep.  And he will move into the nursing home with you.

My Reality:  So we had to buy a king size bed because I like my space while sleeping.  As far as I'm concerned, even after 12+ years of marriage The Hubs is still sharing my bed on a trial basis.  If so much as one attempted snuggling occurs he will be reassigned to the top bunk in Joel's room.  Why would I want to add another person, no matter how small, to the mix?  Enough said.

FEEDING:

Breastfeeding:  Breast is Best!  Mother's milk is the perfect, and only acceptable way of feeding your baby.  Mother's who don't breastfeed clearly do not love their baby.  They are selfish, lazy and probably don't shave their armpits.  If you don't breastfeed your baby will fail to thrive.  She will end up in the hospital with IV fluids while doctors try to save her life.  If you're lucky, they'll put breast milk in those IVs.  You will never truly bond with your child if she is not suckling.

Bottle: This is a healthy and welcome alternative to women who are unable, or unwilling for whatever reason, to breastfeed.  It gives women independence and fathers a chance to share in the joys of feeding time.  Adoptive parents don't have to pray for spontaneous lactation to occur.  Baby is not overly attached to mother and mother isn't fatigued by the added demands to her body.   Bottle feeding is not shunned in public and your boobs will not shrink or sag. (maybe)

My Reality:  I can't nurse.  I tried.  Lots.  Until I bled.  Twice.  My kids seem to love me regardless.  And I love that The Hubs can take turns at night, and that I can leave babies with sitters.  Alas, my boobs have sagged anyway.

TO CRY, OR NOT TO CRY:

The Cry it Out Method:  Babies need to learn that parents aren't slaves (ha ha ha) to their every whim.  There comes a time in every child's life when they need to suck it up and get on with sleeping.  They are eating enough during the day and don't need the added nourishment at night.  If you don't make them cry it out now then you're going to spend the next horrific years of your life up at night soothing and calming your child.  Upon them turning 18 this responsibility will be passed on to their college roomie who will remain confused as to why, exactly, they are expected to keep a back scratcher, fishy crackers and an apple juice box on hand at all times.

The Soothing Method:  Only barbarians don't soothe their babies.  A parent's job is to love their child, regardless of whether it's day or night.  Babies know when they need something and it's a parent's job to meet that need.  Babies are not selfish and cannot be spoiled.  If you don't soothe them now then they will spend their lives searching for love in all the wrong places.  Do you really want to be bailing "Trixie" out of jail just because you couldn't take the time to snuggle her in her infancy?

My Reality:  After nearly 16 months of nighttime he-- with my firstborn my heart froze into a small chip of black ice.  I've never repeated that experience.  I'll just start a fund to pay for rehab for poor little "Trixie" should the need arise.  Should I dodge a bullet on that, she can use it for college...and her poor roomie's fishy cracker stash.

Good luck.  And happy parenting!

A Valentine Post

I found this absolutely LOVELY poem from The Hubs

waiting for me this morning. 

Composed by himself. 

I had to share.

(Click on it to enlarge)

And... aren't these four little Valentines LOVELY too? 

Okay, baby is mad, but that's life :)

Happy Valentine's Day!

The Dermatological Freak Show

If you ever want to feel like a slightly hideous monster I would suggest a visit to the dermatologist.  If, however, you want to up your experience and feel like an unholy abomination, may I suggest going during your 4th week post-partum...while the belly bread dough is still sagging and the boobs stubbornly refuse to stop looking at the floor.  Yep, go then.

It all began about a year ago when I was having my first OB appt with my last pregnancy.  I was all "suited up" in a stylish dressing gown and having my body gone over with a fine tooth comb.  During said process nurse and nurse-in-training both mentioned that my back looked like a war torn country invaded by moles and that I really needed to have them checked out.  I did what I always do when I'm pregnant and pushed it to the back of my mind.  I was making a baby, I didn't need to worry about anything else.  Right?

Fast forward to the end of January when I finally went to see the Dermo (this is what I'm going to call her from now on).  I figured that if I went while still clearly in the post-partum phase that they would figure I had gained like 75 pounds with this pregnancy and be more compassionate to my girth rather than disgusted.  The opposite would happen if I went six months later and they saw the truth, that the bread is going permanently un-baked.

I was asked to strip down naked....um, huh?...and put on another gown.  I'm getting to be a real pro at these gowns!  Then the Dermo came in and I did all kinds of turning and standing with arms out etc.  There were some uncomfortable moments, such as when she checked out my butt cheeks.  Also when she asked me to "please lift your breasts", the time it took to gather up those saggies and heave them out of the way caused some discomfort to both of us. 

As she's wrapping up the body portion of our exam she throws out this self-esteem building little gem.  "I can see why your OB was concerned.  You're really moley."

Uh, thanks?  Glad I could keep you in business?

Finally done with the body we moved to the face.  One of the catalysts to me finally setting the appointment was a strange growth that had suddenly popped up on the side of my face.  I also had a rather beach ball looking brown nasty growth on the side of my neck that my children insisted on playing tug-of-war with and I was hoping to have it removed, stat!

I pointed out said growth on my face.  She got out a magnifying glass  - not joking - and looked it over.  Then she stood up and headed for the door.  Was I that nasty? 

"Oh, that's just a wart.  I'll be right back" she said over her shoulder as she left the room.

A WHAT?  Did she just say wart?  'Cause I'm pretty sure she meant to say Dangerous Growth That May Have Been Life Threatening So It's Good You Came In Today.

She showed back up with a hand held spray can, came right at my face and froze that sucker before I even realized what was happening.

"This totally makes sense that you'd have wart.  You live with small children" she says as she's freezing my face.

How does this make sense?  Oh, I get it.  Because having small children at home makes you begin to transform into a witch.  Gotcha.

With trembling, embarrassed hands, I pointed to the growth on the side of my neck. 

"Oh, that?" she zap freezes it too before saying anything else.  "That's just a skin tag.  Should fall off in a few days.  If it doesn't..." she makes a scissor cutting motion with her hand and a noise like a click.

Does this mean I cut it off?  I need clarification.

"Um, so I just cut it off?" I say, still reeling from the multiple unexpected freezings I've just endured.

"Yep.  Just don't tell me about it" she winks as she's setting down her freeze-ray-gun and whipping out her pad to write down what she's just done to me.   She winks as though it'll be our little secret.  She winks as though I'm accustomed to cutting growths off my own body with a pair of scissors and it's "no big thing chicken wing". 

At this point I just sat there feeling like the monster I thought I might be.  And then, this song started playing in my head...

I feel pretty...oh so pretty...

I feel pretty and witty and bright...

And I pity any girl who isn't me tonight.

I feel charming, oh so charming...

It's alarming how charming I feel...

I'm so pretty that I hardly can believe I'm real!