"The Mother of all Curse Words" --blog post #200

A few weeks ago, I was buckling the kids in the car. Jackson picked up some card, then said, "this is a pain in the f-ing a-." I said, "what did you say?" and he repeated his previous statement. His statement was so random, so deliberate, and said in such a way that I knew he was trying the new words out, testing my parenting, and aware that he said something that just maybe was outside his current boundaries--something that I as a parent couldn't just let slide and hope it would go away. I took a deep breathe, snapped Jonah's buckle, and started my quickly conceived speech about that not being a nice thing to say. I was told, "well, Daddy thinks it's a nice thing to say" 
So great, he ratted his daddy out.  Of course he had learned this from daddy. I don't use this kind of language in front of my child and even if it had come from me, I leave the f- out of this particular phrase.  Then there's the dilema of how to punish him. My stern lecture would only go so far, time out was insufficient and uninforcible since  I clearly wasn't going back inside for 3 minutes on the stair. I couldn't see any other recourse besides the threat of soap.
I told him again that it wasn't a nice thing to say, not for little boys and not for mommy or daddy either. I told him those were dirty words and the only solution was to clean his mouth up by washing it with soap (trying to convince myself that it was a real connection and very reasonable punishment). I told him if mommy or daddy said it to remind us that it wasn't a nice thing to say and we would be in trouble too. Then I got in the car myself, hoped my speech was impressionative, and wondered how to break the news to my husband in a way that would serve to put him on notice as well.
A few days later, Jackson was bouncing around the house, and told me he might "fall and break his f-ing head." I repeated my speech and again listened to his arguement that daddy thought it was a nice thing to say. I repeated my speech with emphasis on the soap. 30 minutes later, Jack was jumping on the bed chanting about falling and "breaking his f-ing head". 
I put Jonah down and let out a deep sigh of disbelief. Disbelief of what I was hearing from my 3 1/2 year old, disbelief that I was really going to have to get the soap out, disbelief that my husband hadn't tempered his own language. Visions of that scene from "The Christmas Story" flashed through my mind as I picked up my sweet baby boy and carried him into the bathroom, his fate sealed. I gave him a longer speech. He was unphased. I showed him a bar of soap, then had to explain just what it was since we use a body wash with the kids and liquid soap at the sink. I had to hold him down to attempt to put it in his mouth. He grimmaced, and I touched the tiniest bit to his tooth. He ran away complaining, but did not repeat his chant. I took the next opportunity to again chastise my husband.  Jason has since been moping around, wearing his 'worst father in the world' medallion.
Those of you who know my Jackson know he loves to play with my iTouch. He calls it "mine game". If I take it to work, I come home hearing "mom, do you know where mine game is?" in the most pleading little voice. I have it loaded up with toddler aps. He plays them all, but mostly he plays Pocket God. I recognize that torturing pygmies is a little mature of a theme. I'm a little embarrassed that when we visited Utah, he showed everyone as he said, "see the zombies eat the kidneys brains and that makes more zombies". I rationalize that playing Pocket God is good for him because he has to take multi-sequenced steps to a given reaction, it's bigger than just cause and effect.
 He also uses the YouTube ap to watch videos of his own giggling self, muppets singing 'Ma Nama Na', or Donald Duck shorts. He saved a video of someone playing a Roger Rabbit video game to the YouTube favorites. I saw him watching it a couple times, and it was boring so I tuned it out after a few seconds. Normally I let him use the iTouch on his own. He likes to play it when he's "boring" because I'm cooking or taking care of Jonah or whatever.  A few nights ago, he was sitting next to me playing with the iTouch. He turned on the Roger Rabbit video. About 3 seconds beyond the point I'd been tuning out, the narrator said, "This right here is a pain in the f-ing a-". I think a "fall and break my f-ing head" might've been in the upcoming dialogue. Instead of waiting to listen for that, I snatched the itouch from Jackson's protesting fingers and erased the link from the memory.
Jason is relieved that he's no longer the worst parent in the world. He handed that title to me for letting my sweet little boy have unsupervised access to the Internet. YouTube. What was I thinking?! It could've been much worse, right?! So now we're both on notice, paying a little more attention to our language and to our little parrot's viewing habits. This parenting thing is gonna be a long looong road, sigh.  

LoJack for Babies

A few weeks ago, Jackson bolted in Target. When I found him, he was 1/2 way across the store. So I spent the night comparing child locating devices on line--LoJack for babies. There are all kinds. Everything from GPS enabled devices that are trackable online (with or without a monthly subscription fee) to radio frequency beepers. I opted for the latter option--much cheaper, instant, and practical. Sure, my child could be abducted, but statistically that's a pretty remote possibility. The likely scenario is that he either runs or drifts away in a public place (or the backyard).
We opted for the Mommy I'm Here Child Locator. $25 at Amazon (link from the blog title). This one seemed the most practical and had better reviews. The only negatives were from units that arrived with a dead battery. Our's arrived in good working order.
Only drawbacks are that it sometimes beeps with no apparent reason, but I could've leaned on the button. You also have to thread it through something-- a belt or shoelaces for example. Minor inconvenience for peace of mind. Bonus, I'm not the parent with a toddler on a tether.

For those of you who need hope.

Quick update on the sleeping arrangements. We are now 10 nights into the new arrangements. For nights 2-4, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. He woke several times a night, and Jason and I took turns squeezing into his bed, or sleeping on the floor in the pile of blankets meant to catch him should he fall.
Now, Jackson may get up and whine, but once I disappear from sight, he goes back to bed, and tucks himself in. Sometimes, like tonight, he stays in bed when I get up (takes a few bits of his blanket, "numm, numm") and goes to sleep.
He wakes 1-2 times each night. I walk down the hall, pick him up, squeeze him a bit, and tuck him back in bed...Where he stays!!!

So, we are a happy sleeping family.

And those of you who are in the throws of night time nightmares..well, if Jackson can adjust, anybaby can.

Some comments on milk

I've been meaning to post about breastfeeding for a while. I actually have several posts to do on this. The mothers out there know what a rocky road it is. Today's topic is extended breastfeeding, something that's usually reserved for snide whispers. In this country its considered a bit weird, and I admit to having a mental stereotype of people who do it, something I had a little internal struggle with when we hit the 12 month mark.
The AMA recommends breastfeeding exclusive for the 1st 6 months, and continuing for "atleast" the first year. The WHO recommends 2 years. Why the discrepancy? Well, I think this country is struggling to overcome its midcentury belief that "only poor people breastfeed", "its gross", and "formula is best". After that PR nightmare (did the formula companies use the same ad agency as cigarettes? seriously!) 12 months may be a stretch goal. The WHO on the otherhand is trying to make sure that children in the undeveloped world get one of the few advantages mother's can afford. It's also the best tool they have to stave off waterborn illnness, a major cause of infant death, since there's no need to mix it with water.
Most American mothers try to breastfeed in the hospital, more than half don't make it 2 months. The ones who make it through say "whew" at the 12 month mark and swiftly switch to cow's milk. There is a small minority that keeps going. As a new mother, I had a goal of 6 months, and then see what happens. (After the first few days and weeks, that seemed like an impossible achievement--but that's another post). I read up a bit on the recommendations, and started prying open my own mind on the idea of extended nursing. Apparently, there's scant scientific evidence of the benefits of toddler nursing in the US, but numerous studies have tried to find the negatives (science to support public opinion?) and they didn't come up with any.
About a year ago, I saw my doctor for my 6 month post partum check-up. We were talking about breastfeeding, and she casually said how things would go...and then we'd be toddler nursing, night and morning... What-What!? I heard the electronic rewind screech in my mind when she said it.
At 12 months, we were still breastfeeding. Jackson loved it. The descriptives, "alactrity", "enthusiasm", and "gusto" are inadequate to convey his excitement for nursing, or the sense of urgency he puts into it. I'm away from my baby 9 hours a day, so I wasn't about to deny him something that is clearly so important to him.
I did decide to break him from the all night feeding. This was really hard! I tried to use a gradual method to stop it. I set up some rules. 1--Jackson had to sleep in his own bed (right next to mine) until 5am. 2--No picking up screaming child (and he screamed!!) 3--I would give him milk when he asked for it, but only from a bottle. 4--After a few weeks, I would start diluting the milk with water until it was just water. Amazingly, the strategy worked. The first few nights were brutal, but after a week, Jackson agreed to go back to sleep in his own bed, and within 6 weeks, he was sleeping without sustenance from 7:30-5:00 (sometimes 4:30) when he woke for milk, and went back to sleep for an hour. (Such a relief after over a year of hourly interrupted sleep).
This method meant that I still had to pack my pump to and from work, and keep my timeslot in the overpacked lactation room so that I would have milk for overnight. There was another woman with a child the same age as Jack. On his 1st birthday, she [smugly] posted a note regarding her freedom from the milk machine. I was feeling like the weird woman who was still breastfeeding--How old is that child!? Then I checked in on my friend in my old lactation room, and she was still feeding her son. I asked a few more people and found out that there are actually a bunch of us quietly continuing past the first year. Many of us are professionals, surprisingly continuing to put in the extra effort.
Jackson was already weaned during the day since he was driven to vampirism early. (see Milk, soap, and cheese.) That's not the case for everyone. I saw my friend this summer who has extended breastfed all of her children. I was impressed at her patience--she spent 1/2 hour exposed in the kitchen while her 14 month old suckled and napped intermittently.
We're now at 18 months, and continuing to nurse for some indeterminate length of time. Jack's enthusiasm has not waned. We've had a cold this weekend, and Jackson hasn't been able to breath and suck at the same time. The other night, he threw an absolute fit when he couldn't suckle. He was writhing around and bawling. Luckily Jason was home, and able to sit with him while I dug my pump out of the closet. I put the milk in a sippy cup, and Jackson bawled louder, refusing to take it. He was relieved when I put in into a bottle. I wasn't able to pump much milk, and the wailing resumed when it was gone. Fortunatley, I still have stock in the freezer.
There are studies that show that antibody levels in toddler breast milk are even higher than in milk produced for young babies. I noticed my milk looks thicker than it used to, and I'm glad I can offer it.
I don't see myself as someone who fits the typical stereotype of a la leche leaguer. I think I'm as close as an engaged parent gets to the opposite of that. I'm not someone who gushes about the bonding that comes from nursing. I don't experience that personally, although I think Jackson does. I nurse because I know it offers advantages in immunity, allergy prevention, IQ, and development. I'm skeptical about the food industry (apparently with good reason--so glad I'm not in China!), and I don't believe they can adequately synthesize a food that has evolved over millenia. I want to make sure my child has the advantages that are within my means to provide.
I hope reading my story widened your awareness a bit. I'm not going to tell anyone how to raise their children, but I want other mother's to know that its OK either way, and I'd like to dissipate some of the whispers uttered at the expense of those of us who take "atleast 12 months" to mean something besides "exactly 12 months".

Should not have boasted.

I should not have boasted. The novelty of counting has worn off (already).
So, I'm back to either using the deep mean voice that makes Jack cry, or simply taking things away from him and triggering a tantrum.

Tonight's tantrum over losing his privileges to my giant cocoa butter lip balm (which he was sweetly rubbing on his belly to reduce stretch marks, and then jabbing with his sharp fingers) started on the bed. He threw himself down face first, and, after a few dramatic seconds, started inching toward the edge. I helpfully placed him on the floor. After a few more dramatic seconds, he inched across the room, out the door, down the hall, was stopped by the door at the end, and complained there for several minutes. I walked down the hall and opened the door for him, then walked away. After several more dramatic minutes, he skidded his face across the carpet, and continued to complain his way onto the computer chair. A minute later, the whimpering turned to wailing. I think he got stuck in a standing position, and he'd knocked over the computer speaker. He agreed to allow me to pick him up, then cried quietly and nestled into my shoulder. He cheered up at the prospect of a story.

My child has combined his mother's sensitivity with his father's temper.

1, 2, 3

I've turned into all of our Mothers. How? I count--1 [pause] 2 [pause] 3 [pause].
It works. I say "I'm going to count" and my sweet boy, who's been ignoring my requests to put down the toilet paper for 5 minutes, interprets "Mama means business, now." He'll actually stop what he's doing on the number 1. So I cheer, but I think I have a responsibility to continue counting. He's gotta learn the numbers, and its not really counting if I stop at 1.

Down syndrome is one of the most common genetic condition, with an incidence of 1 per 733 live births. It results when a person has an extra copy of the 21st chromosome, hense trisomy 21. Consequences of the addition are mild to moderate cognitive delays and distinctive physical features including short stature, low muscle town, and an upward eye slant. People with Down's syndrome suffer high rates of congenital heart defects, thyroid conditions, respiratory problems, hearing impairment, childhood leukemia, and altzheimers. As these conditions have become more treatable, the average lifespan for a person with T21 has increased from 25 years in 1983 to 60 years today.
More information can be found at the National Down's Syndrome Society website, http://www.ndss.org/

5 minutes

What have I learned about parenting this week? The power of preparedness. I've always been a fan of boy scout style preparedness, but recently, I learned a new kind--preparing my toddler for change.

Toddlers are notorious for having short attention spans. They go from one thing to the next at superman speed. But they also have a propensity for obsessive focus, and a reluctance to have that focus interupted. I've been waging battles over me leaving, time to put away the puzzle and get changed, or come inside.

Yesterday morning, when I was getting ready to go, I started putting toys in the Pack-n-Play for Jack' s entertainment when I leave. Predictably, he immediately threw himself backward (careful not to thump his head on the floor) and complained. I still needed to put on shoes and collect my bag. When I was ready to leave, I gave Jackson a lengthy squeeze and snuggle, then set him down. He waived happily as I left. Well, Eureka. This morning, I gave Jackson plenty of warning and love before saying goodbye. He good naturedly sat down, and spread his blankets over his lap, then gave me a kiss goodbye.

It's fabulous!!! I'm applying the 5 minute rule to everything now. Tonight, we had the playdough out before bedtime. Instead of keeping track of time in my head, I said, "OK, 5 more minutes, then we have to put it away and get ready for bed." We played somemore, then he helped me put the playdough back in the jar. I let him carry the jar upstairs, and closed it repeatedly, so he could reopen it. Midway through the diaper change, he found something more interesting, and the jar disappeared.

Now what I need is an engaging egg timer to help me enforce my new plan.

Kristin, I have posted some new political rantings on my new blog "Other Musings" link at right (I have soo got to pick up some html skills!)