Regretting My Regrets

Today's post is a guest post by Martha, who blogs at momsoap.blogspot.com ...

Before Annika was born I had regrets. I regretted staying with my ex-husband as long as I did. Hell, I regretted ever marrying him. I regretted not finishing school sooner. I regretted financial decisions. I regretted not working out more. I regretted haircuts.

Then when I got pregnant I philosophized about how all those bad choices had led me to the place I was in the world and if I hadn't done things just exactly the way I had, maybe, maybe just maybe, Annika would never have been.

Instead of regrets, those bad choices were now stepping stones that led me to give birth to this beautiful and perfect child of mine. She is something I will never regret, not even if she turns out to be a drug addict or a serial killer. She will always be my beautiful perfect child.

But now I have something new to regret. And I wonder if I even should. Ever since I started blogging regularly, I have wished many times that I had started sooner.

When Annika was growing inside my body I had such powerful emotions and as a writer, I wanted desperately to capture it all and share it with the world. I was feeling emotions that I didn't even know existed.

Yeah, I'm one of those women. I loved loved loved being pregnant. Even with the weight gain, hemorrhoids (gross I know), heartburn, achy legs, nausea, tiredness, brain fog, and swollen feet (my god they were like grapefruits), I loved it.

A powerful life force inside of me burned with a fury and I couldn't get enough of the feeling. Carrying my child was spiritual and divine. I had found the meaning of life.

I would sit down and try to write but I could never really figure out how to express what I was feeling. It always sounded so cheesy. I would expound wildly about how my emotions were like the universe and the sun and moon and stars.

Then I would read it and go, "who is this person?"

Then I realized they were just hormones. Yeah, the same ones that give me bloating and crankiness once a month. Yep, those hormones. And no one tells you that they take a few months to dissipate after the baby is born.

I thought I would continue feeling that way forever. I thought that pregnancy had made me into a new woman.

And while that woman was a softer person who seemed to understand children better, was friendlier and happier, I had lost my edge. I worried that I would never be able to write the way I used to.

So the first few months after Annika was born I continued trying to write about those things that I wanted to share with the world, but they always ended up being too personal and really only things that I wanted to share with Annika.

Plus, I could never concentrate long enough to write coherently and do it consistently. I can barely manage it now.

As I analyze the past two and a half years I realize that what was most important was and is concentrating on Annika and just being a mom.

And maybe the reason I couldn't form coherent thoughts often enough to write consistently is because that my emotions being transformed onto paper were less momentous than Annika learning how to crawl or making baby noises like her first "words," 'Ab' and 'Way."

Maybe the reason that we moms become less physically desirable and lose some of previous desires, and become foggy and tired is because the universe is telling us that concentrating on our little one is the only thing that should matter right now.

Hmmm, maybe it's not just hormones after all.

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Momsoap is written by Martha Wood, an attached, stay-at-home mama to Annika, who is 18 ½ months. Martha co-parents with Annika's dad, Toyin. Martha never planned to become a mom and shock of all shockers, she loves it. Momsoap opines about single-ish parenthood, childhood and just life in general. www.momsoap.blogspot.com

"Hold on to Your Kids"

A long time ago - oh, I don’t know, several years, I guess - I stopped reading parenting books. After all, I’d read scores of them. I figured, what was the point? Either I agreed with what they said (so why waste my time?) or what they were touting didn’t mesh with my parenting strategies (so why waste my time?). My kids were older and I was pretty comfortable with what had become my parenting style - nothing I read was likely to shake things up.

Then I decided to become an API leader. As part of that process, I had to read three books, all of which had been published since I stopped reading: Hold On to Your Kids(Gordon Neufeld and Gabor Mate), Attached at the Heart(Barbara Nicholson and Lysa Parker), and Nonviolent Communication(Marshall Rosenberg).

So far I’ve finished only one of them, Hold on to Your Kids, and - as much as I hate to admit it - I’m delighted that I was required to read it.

Hold on to Your Kids is not just another parenting book. It’s not just another attachment parenting book. It gives good, solid evidence why staying close to our children and being their “compass point” is so much better than following society’s present-day norm of allowing peers to be our children’s guide. Over the past few generations, our “norm” has flip-flopped so that now we have an entirely skewed vision of what is, indeed, normal and healthy.

Over the last not-so-many years, our society has seen a shift in who should be the center of our children’s lives. Not that long ago, parents or other guiding adults were the anchors that kept our kids centered. But in recent times, that anchor has shifted to the peer group, and that has caused all sorts of problems. The authors explain not only what the problems are but also why they occur, and they give ways to solve the problems and bring our children back to us.

Absolutely missing in peer relationships are unconditional love and acceptance, the desire to nurture, the ability to extend oneself for the sake of the other, the willingness to sacrifice for the growth and development of the other. When we compare peer relationships with parent relationships for what is missing, parents come out looking like saints. The results [of having peers be the guiding force] spell disaster for many children.

Although I would have heartily agreed with the book’s premise before reading it, I would not have had any solid basis on which to place that opinion. So I was thrilled to see the authors give specific reasons why my ideas are right. hehe

Bear with me while I give a long quote, because it ties right into homeschooling and the inevitable “socialization” question:

The belief is that socializing - children spending time with one another - begets socialization: the capacity for skillful and mature relating to other human beings. There is no evidence to support such an assumption, despite its popularity. If socializing with peers led to getting along and to becoming responsible members of society, the more time a child spent with her peers, the better the relating would tend to be. In actual fact, the more children spend time with one another, the less likely they are to get along and the less likely they are to fit into civil society. If we take the socialization assumption to the extreme - to orphanage children, street children, children involved in gangs - the flaw in thinking becomes obvious. If socializing were the key to socialization, gang members and street kids would be model citizens.

The book is definitely worth reading, even though it’s sometimes like wading through a bog. I wish it had been written in a more approachable tone and edited back a bit (there’s quite a bit of repetition), but it’s worth slogging through nonetheless. (Maybe “slogging” is too strong a word.) The information is important enough that in a perfect world it would be accessible to a whole bunch of people, but with its depth it probably loses a goodly number of readers. Too bad.

This is a book that you can leave on your bedside table and pick up when you can read a page or two at a time. No need to sit down and digest the whole thing at once. But I do think it’s worth the effort.

________________

If you enjoyed this post, you might like "Parent/Teen Breakthrough."

It Ain't Always Easy, but It's Always Worth It

I got some flak for my blog post on API Speaks yesterday. One of the commenters was taken aback by some of my statements. So I reread my post, and I can certainly see why she might have taken some offense to my opinions.

To someone who had mellow kids, or maybe one child, or perhaps a ton of outside support, or even a group of like-minded moms to vent to, I can see how my words would rankle. She said of my post, "Perhaps it was intended to connect with an audience who finds attachment parenting to be difficult, even painful- but it also encourages the belief that it is normal, and okay, for it to be that way, rather than to find ways that are not painful or uncomfortable."

Well, the truth is, it is normal for it to be that way - at least for some of us, at least sometimes. Some of us have extraordinarily high-needs children who completely tap their reserves, day in and day out. Some of us have several closely spaced children or twins or triplets - and by the end of the day, we're completely "touched out" but still need to be accessible and welcoming to our children. Some of us have ill children, and we have to give and give and give. Some of us work and come home exhausted and still have to provide nurturing touch, when what we want is to have someone touch us in a nurturing way. Some of us are single and have no relief from being "on" all day - and night - long.

And yes, sometimes we pretend - to be patient, because the alternative is to be impatient; to be sensitive, because what we really want is to be left alone at that moment; and to be to be something we're not, especially if what we're feeling is not particularly "attached" at that second. Do we do this all the time? Most of the time? Much of the time? Obviously not, or we couldn't begin to call ourselves attachment parents, and we wouldn't be committed to this type of parenting.

For some of us, being attached is hard at times. Certainly not all the time, and probably not even most of the time.

But here's the deal. I've talked to countless parents who are following AP principles, and doing so with commitment and passion. Virtually every one of those parents finds it difficult at times. And many, many of those think they're the only one.

I can't tell you how many moms have thanked me profusely for letting it all hang out and admitting that I've struggled. They tell me that it actually makes staying committed to their beliefs easier, because they realize that they're not the oddball that they thought they were, that they're not doing it "wrong."

Almost everything we read about attachment parenting is about the positive aspects, the rewards, and the health benefits. And all those things are true. But it can be disheartening - at times - to those of us who are committed to this path but find it to be bumpier than the books let on, especially when we think that we're the only one struggling.

Of course, being attached to your kids is worth it, in so many ways that I can't even begin to express. More and more studies are backing up what AP parents have felt in their hearts all along - that our children are healthier, stronger, happier, and more confident over the long haul. Whether the path is sometimes difficult, sometimes rocky, sometimes steep ... it's the path with the most dazzling view, with the most brilliant sky, with the sweetest fresh air, and with the biggest rewards at the end, and strewn liberally all along the way as well.

So I am thrilled that there are parents out there for whom being an AP parent is easy. I'm elated that, for some, the few difficulties they encounter are easily remedied. For those who struggle occasionally (or even frequently) I just want to be that voice that says, "It's okay. You're human. We all struggle, and we all survive. And it's all worth it."

I must admit that I'm not a touchy-feely writer. In fact, when I first posted to API Speaks I wrote to the volunteer who handles the blog, and I asked her if my style was appropriate. I'm not apologizing; that's just me.

And just for the record, even though the early years were peppered with difficult times (and sometimes the pepper was a bit heavy), I never once was resentful. Never.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy The 8 Principles with Older Kids ... Still Valid?

The Struggles of Being Attached: Is It Worth It?

This post is today's blog post on API Speaks, Attachment Parenting International's blog.

Is being an attachment parent worth it? Let’s face it, it can be tough.

I co-slept – with kicking kids who woke up repeatedly during the night, all night long. One night my youngest kicked me in the breast so hard that I developed a massive lump and had to get an emergency mammogram to make sure it wasn’t going to explode or fall off. But the worst thing? I was so sleep deprived that I didn’t even wake up when it happened….
… Our friends who Ferberized their kids boasted about what great sleepers their kids were. “Little Johnny sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake until 8:00. Sometimes I have to wake him up for breakfast!”

I nursed – when my breasts were so sore that I’d have cut them off and hung them on the wall if I’d had the option. Breastfeeding hurt so bad with my middle child that I would start crying as soon as she woke up hungry, even before she latched on…
… My friends would pull out a little bottle, shake some sticky powder into it, and pop a plastic nipple into Little Suzy’s mouth, who happily gulped it down. I even had a friend who had one of those bottles with the long tube attached to the nipple, since she couldn’t even be bothered with holding her baby to eat.

I carried them — my newborns, my toddlers, and my preschoolers for a thousand miles, sometimes more than one kid at a time (thank goodness they were small!). Sometimes one would be in a backpack, one would be in a sling, and one would be on my hip or holding my hand….
… My friends would be (choose one) dragging their kids along by the hand because they didn’t want to cooperate, lugging immensely heavy carseats, or pushing them apathetically along in a stroller.

I responded with sensitivity — well, that is, pretended to be patient, endlessly giving words of reassurance or encouraging mediation, while my inner voice was screaming behind my ears, “Just stop it, already!”…
… My friends would pull their kids behind a fence and give them a swat or two, or maybe put them in time out. Problem solved.

My friends — wonderful, loving, committed, but decidedly non-AP friends — would look at me with a sorry mixture of pity, confusion, and something bordering embarrassment as I stuck to my guns, refusing to spank my kids, punish them, or demean them.

Clearly, some of my friends thought that I was coddling my children, perhaps even dooming them to a life of feeling entitled and being unfulfilled.

But I tried my best to treat my kids with the same respect that I would want. They had just as much value and deserved just as much respect as I did. Why would I want to teach them that the world doesn’t respond to their needs (that is, CIO)? What would be the point of saving myself some discomfort now (okay, let’s admit it, a lot of discomfort) by bottle-feeding when I was perfectly capable of breastfeeding, especially at the expense of their health? How could I tell them to stand up for themselves and not let the world take advantage of them if I treated them like “less than” or if I demeaned or humiliated them? And did I really want my kids to think that I was the absolute authority on everything, so much so that they needed to jump to my every command, lest they be punished?

Nope. I wanted my kids to think for themselves; to know that their parents always had their best interests at heart, even when it wasn’t convenient; to be able to count on their parents to be there when they needed us; and to know without a doubt that their thoughts and opinions were just as valid as mine or their dad’s – or any adult’s.

Was it easy? No, not always, especially at the beginning, especially when what I was doing was so different from my mainstream friends’ strategies.

Now, though, I must say that it’s the easiest and most natural thing imaginable. Today my children know that they’re valued and worthwhile and that they’re the equal of every person on the planet, no matter their age. They’re secure, they enjoy spending time with my husband and me, they enjoy each other, and they’re just plain fun to be around.

My kids, attached to each other ... and their guitars.

And what about my friends’ children? Are they easy? Well adjusted? Self-confident? Still connected to their parents? Some certainly seem to be. But, well … not all of them are. I see many (most?) of them turn to their peers for validation. Some put up a good front at being cooperative and “good” while investing a lot of effort in “getting away” with things behind their parents’ backs. And others bow to authority simply because of the authority’s age or position.

That’s not what I want for my kids. I like to think that the “work” I put into being an attachment parent in the early years is paying off now. After the thousands of hours and hours of effort I spent cosleeping, nursing, playing, talking, listening, comforting, mediating, and just being, I’m seeing the rewards.

And those rewards will last a lifetime.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy What I've Learned As a Parent.

Dependence Begets Independence?

Can dependence really give rise to independence? How can that be?

It does seem counterintuitive, doesn't it?

Think about it for a minute. What makes someone independent? I don't mean independent by the current youth standard - not caring, not needing parents, and not being curious ... in short, being apathetic to life. Indeed, those very kids are totally dependent on their peers for validation, so in actuality, not independent at all.

No, I mean independent. Completely secure in who they are, what they believe, and how they act. We've all met them - heck, maybe you're one of them. When I was a young adult, I secretly looked at those people with great awe - those people who dressed in their own style, who held religious or political beliefs distinctly separate from their peers or their family, who forged ahead on their own and without a safety net, and who followed their own, if seemingly outlandish, career paths. I was never comfortable enough in my own skin to be one of those people.

So, I ask again, what makes a person independent? Secure? Willing to go out on their own without a group backing them up?

Let me go out on a limb here and say dependence. If a child starts life being dependent on caring parents, knowing that those parents will be there for him, rain or shine, then he can focus on exploring the world. If he knows that he's going to be loved unconditionally, with all his warts and indiosynchrocies, then he can become secure in who he is. If he learns early on that the world responds to his needs, then he becomes comfortable with being curious and expects that he'll get results from his actions.

If he begins life dependent on loving, caring adults who cherish him for who he is, there is no other path than that of independence in the healthiest meaning of the word.

Isn't that what we want for our kids?

_____________

If you liked this post, you might enjoy What We Give Our Kids.

Saturday Quote for the Day

"I'm going to beat you when we get home."

--Me, threatening my kids (in jest) to make sure they "behaved" at this week's API meeting


"At what?"

--G, spoken like a truely attached kid, who doesn't even get threats of physical violence. How am I supposed to exert my momly power when my kids aren't even intimidated?

The Creativity of Children

My post today is today's blog post on API Speaks, Attachment Parenting International's blog.

I’m always amazed at the creativity of children ... which happens, frequently, in spite of my best efforts. Let me explain.

Sometimes I’m just too helpful for everyone’s own good. On those occasions when we have small day-to-day hurdles, my first inclination is to make everything better. Over the years, however, I’ve learned that the best solutions to these little life strifes is to let the kids work things out for themselves, with as much guidance as is needed, but only as much.

Like everyone else, I work to maintain family harmony. But when we have these little obstacles--and yes, we do have them (shocker!)--I try to remember that these opportunities allow my children’s stunning ingenuity to shine through. They remind me that if I just close my mouth and listen to what my children have to say, they’ll frequently astound me with their creativity.

Their ideas are fresh and honest and not shackled by memories of failures and expectations of future success. I find that I, by contrast, am hampered by constraints in my adult thinking, and if I simply let them brainstorm--and get the heck out of their way--the results are frequently startling and spectacular.

Case in point ...

Here in Texas we have a tax-free shopping weekend just before public school starts. I try to save up my shopping for the year and do it all in this weekend to take advantage of the sales that go along with it. Like many other people this year, we’ve been watching our pennies and stretching them as far as they’ll go without snapping.

This year’s shopping trip was pretty slim, since I was buying only essentials. Unfortunately, the hand-me-downs my 11-year-old daughter has thrived on in the past have run out, and she’s been inconsiderate enough to grow quickly, so she needed just about every item of clothing possible. We ended up buying just enough to get by, expecting that she’ll soon have outgrown these clothes too. Every choice she and I made was chosen with care and an eye to function and cost.

So imagine my dismay when, after spending a full day battling the shopping mobs (not something I do with gusto on the best day) and watching our bank account whittle down to token numbers, I found crumpled, discarded, and wadded up items of brand-new clothing scattered across the house.

(As an aside, I totally “get” that. I have fond memories of coming home after a similar shopping trip at a similar age and trying on every single item we’d purchased and leaving them strewn across my bed and floor - and of course, my mom getting mad. Sigh.)

You might think my first reaction was to talk calmly with my daughter about the importance of taking care of her new things, after which she immediately thanked me for my insight and proceeded to hang up her clothing with loving care and a skip in her step.

Um, no.

Instead, I started to fly off the handle--after all, we’d had this conversation a million times before, but it hadn’t stuck yet--and she began to get angry and dig in her heels. Well, I’d been down the Low Road of arguing before, and I didn’t much relish yet another journey. I stepped back, breathed, and asked her if she’d be willing to brainstorm with me. She was willing but a bit wary, since I have to fight my natural inclination to "solve" problems and make things cheery. She’s known me long enough to know that once in a great while I lose that battle and I force everybody to kiss and make up. (Hey, I’m not perfect.)

I laid out the reasons why I was angry--that I felt like my time and our money weren’t valued and thus, by default, that her dad and I weren't being respected--and asked her if those reasons made sense to her. Then I shut up. Really hard for me. Excruciating. I had all sorts of witty quips and clever solutions that I wanted to pronounce, proclaiming my mom-ish mastery of handling all things problematic.

But I shut up. She went away, ostensibly to think about it. Bad Mom figured she was simply avoiding the issue. I grumbled to myself and inwardly fumed, and Good Mom won out and vowed to give her some space. I was Keeping My Cool. Harrumph.

A bit later--not too much later--she came back. "Mom, I was thinking about it, and I have an idea of what I can do about the clothes."

Well, my mind went wild. I gleefully ran through all the ideas that I’d come up with, wondering which one of my clever solutions she’d arrived at on her own. Would it be to earn money in the future to pay for any new clothes herself? Would it be to simply offer a heartfelt apology, with the promise that she’d take better care in the future, and offer to do something for me in return? Could she ... no she couldn’t possibly ... suggest that I return the clothes--though that option had entered my mind too, as in "That’ll teach you!"

No, she was more clever than I.

"I think that what I’d like to do is buy the clothes back from you out of my allowance. That way I’ll appreciate them more."

Uh. Wow. Okay.

"Wow, honey. That sounds like a good idea," I said, pushing my lower jaw up with my hand, silently tallying up the amount she had in her allowance and realizing that she didn’t have anywhere near enough to cover it.

“Maybe I can earn extra money to pay for them over time.”

My thoughts whirled while my tongue twisted. Before she gave me her idea, I had envisioned all the finagling and compromising that would happen for us to come up with some sort of solution that would be agreeable to both of us. I remembered all the times that I’d proposed remarkably excellent strategies for working through problems, which often ... um ... shall we say ... fell flat with a resounding thud.

My daughter, studying.

Then I remembered all the varied solutions that did work with my kids. Invariably, those solutions were ones that the kids came up with themselves. The reason they worked was, for the most part, because the kids were invested in the solution. They weren’t being encouraged (read forced) to go along with something that someone else had instigated.

I’ve learned over the years that this seems to be the case in just about every aspect of our lives. If we have a problem--whether it’s two kids arguing over a book they want to listen to in the car or the whole family deciding if we want to go to visit grandparents over the weekend--the solutions that work the best are the ones that everyone feels that they’ve contributed to. If any of the kids think that they didn’t have a say in the decision, they’re much less inclined to be invested in the success of that decision.

How, you might ask, does this relate to attachment parenting? Think of the underlying theme behind each of the 8 Principles. What is it? Respect. Respect for our children as individuals--people whose opinions matter as much as ours, whose ideas are as clever as ours, and who want to be heard and respected just as much as we do.

When we were kids we didn’t like it when a parent, teacher, or other adult made global decisions that affected us without our input. Heck, we still don’t like it! But when we were young and small it was even harder, because the world around us told us in so many ways that we had no power. By giving our kids power over their environment, letting them come up with their solutions to their problems, seeing if those solutions actually work in the long term, and treating our children as individuals who deserve respect just as much as we do, we not only can alleviate some of the problems that arise but also help them to prepare to be thinking adults that are in charge of their lives.

So on my Good Mom days, I remember my own advice and sit back and zip my lips. As much as possible, I let my kids come up with their own ideas, which are frequently great, and we all reap the rewards.

As I’ve said before, some of my best parenting moments are when I’ve shut my mouth and listened. Not sure what that says about me, but who cares? It works!

So the clothes sit in my drawer waiting to be purchased, and my daughter visits them occasionally. Two of them have been retrieved, and the others are waiting patiently their turn. It’ll happen, and it’ll be without coercion, bribery, or threats. And that’s awfully nice.

The new-clothes drawer

________________

If you enjoyed this post, you might like Does Attachment Parenting Really Work?

Sunday's Gratitude Post

Boys. NICUs. Red-heads. High-energy kids. Micro-preemies.

Now teenagers.

Amazing how something so tiny can change your life

so drastically, so brilliantly.

G came into our lives 14 weeks early at 2 lbs, 5 oz.

Due in December, born in August.

The doctors allowed us to lay one finger on him

before they wheeled him into the NICU.

We could only touch him softly, for fear of his skin tearing.

We could see his heart beating beneath his skin.

All five of his fingers could fit inside my size-4 wedding ring.

This is the first day we got to hold him, on Day 7.

I sat holding my little kangaroo for hours at a time, day in and day out.

I watched other parents come and go,

but one of us was always there with our baby.

He burned with fierce determination and tenacity from the very beginning,

a trait that kept him alive then and that continues to serve him well today.

They called him "The Miracle Baby."

Never on a respirator, never on nasal prongs.

He nursed when only 30 weeks, remarkably early.

He was just tiny and needed to grow.

At 34 weeks, still 6 weeks premature, he came home -

eyes wide with wonder.

He continued to amaze us, reading at 18 months.

Here, at 11 months, he's picking out letters from the headlines

while having his cup of joe.

He wholeheartedly welcomed his little sister

when she came along a year and a half later.

They were best buddies - and still are (well, most of the time) -

along with their younger brother.

At two, he hadn't said "Mama" yet.

We wondered if he would ever speak.

But he would sit on the couch with us and read literally for hours at a stretch.

We were heartened by that affinity for words, which alleviated our fears.

At 3, he not only said, "Mama," but also just about anything else he wanted.

With great gusto. Often, and vociferously.

Always driven to succeed, he earned his Black Belt at age 10.

Again, his perseverance rose to the surface.

Still reaching for his goals, he attended the State-level

National Geography Bee for the second time this year.

Next year, he hopes to make it to Nationals, a dream he's had since he was 10.

He studies geography several hours a day.

Soccer, a past love of his.

On to bigger and better things now.

Finally, after playing for six years, he and his team won State.

Great to go out on a high note.

Now, a teenager.

Wow, where did the time go?

How do you adequately say you're grateful for something

that so radically changed your life that your entire being,

your complete world picture,

indeed the very physiology of your brain is changed forever?

For someone for whom you would willingly live for eternity,

die in an instant, and do it all over again?

This parenting gig is shaping me in ways I never imagined.

My children have taught me more than any school,

have guided me more than any teacher, and filled me more than any religion.

Once again, my life is changed, now that I'm the mother of a teenager.

The path before me is clearer than I ever imagined.

I just hope that I can walk it with the integrity and respect that my new teenager,

my daughter, my preteen son, and my dear husband deserve.

I'm grateful.

Happy Birthday, G.

_________________

If you liked this post, you might enjoy Does Attachment Parenting Really Work?

Getting off the Low Road

The Low Road ... the muck, the mire, the warm and sticky Low Road. We've all been there - whether we admit it or not - getting ourselves stuck in a situation with our children where we've said something or done something out of anger or frustration that we regret.

How do we repair our relationship with our child?

Oh, wait. You're surprised? Did you believe the myth that parents who follow attachment parenting are always patient and cheerful? That they happily follow their children from task to task, with a warm and positive attitude, always accommodating and unflappable? Yeah, right.

Maybe the books make it seem so. Maybe other AP parents make it seem so. I've heard lots of parents be turned off of attachment parenting because they think they're not "AP enough." What a shame!

Let's face it. We all have strengths, and we all have weaknesses. AP parents are not so different from mainstream parents ... we lose our temper, we get snappy, we clench our fists and sometimes - ugh - even yell. For some, any or all of these things happen rarely. For others of us - and well, uh, let's just say that I definitely count myself among these - they happen just a tad bit more than we'd like. Like every day. Like every hour. Or wait, maybe that's just in my head.

I'm not saying that walking the Low Road is okay or that it's appropriate. It's just, well, normal ... at least at times.

And here's a news flash to all the new AP parents out there: every one of those "together," laid-back, calm, and nurturing AP moms that you meet, even those who are legendary among AP circles for their wisdom and BTDT advice ... they've all walked the Low Road. Some have worn ruts in it up to their knees.

But ... and here's the key ... they've survived with their relationship with their children in tact.

How?

There are some simple rules that I follow to get me get off the Low Road and back onto high ground.

First, step away and remove yourself from the trigger. When I've done or said something I regret (like when I've flown off the handle after the 167th time in the last week that I've found the bread sitting out and getting stale), the first thing I do is walk away. I know myself well enough to know that sometimes that feeling of anger - that heat of the moment - feels good (yes, I said it, and most moms won't admit to it). I finally admitted this after years of talking with my oldest about his rages; he told me that it felt powerful to him to be in a rage state, and that confession clicked with me. Not the proudest thing to admit, but once I realized that, it made it easier to remove myself from a place of anger.

Second, when somewhat calmed, apologize. You'll be simply amazed at the power of the words, "I'm sorry." If you think that anger makes you feel powerful, think again. There are few things more powerful than opening yourself up to someone you love, showing your vulnerability, admitting your mistakes, and knowing that they'll forgive you and love you for who you are, not who you want to be. What's more, that apology sets an example, "allowing" your children to be imperfect and lovable in all their imperfections - and allowing them to apologize in the future, even when it's hard.

Third, explain. This goes hand in hand with apologizing. Your kids are probably relieved to see that you've calmed down and apologized, but they still may be wondering what was going on. What was going through your mind? A heartfelt explanation will help them make sense of the confrontation. "I'm so sorry that I blew my stack. I just get angry when yet another loaf of bread ends up stale because it got left out on the table. I shouldn't have yelled, and I apologize."

Fourth, listen. This is crucial. This is your big chance to hear what your kids really think, to see inside their hearts, and to learn their feelings. If you hear, "Why should I put away the bread, when you leave your clothes all over the floor?" then you know that there's a deeper issue than just forgetfulness. If you hear, "I'm sorry I left the bread out. I just forgot again." Then you know your child is trusting you with his honesty.

Listening is my most useful parenting strategy. I can't tell you how many times I've learned things I never would have imagined just by shutting up. On many occasions, what I thought was the real issue wasn't, and if I'd continued my "solution" to the problem, I never would have gotten to the heart of the issue. In my mind, I have to just zip my lips closed and swallow all those helpful retorts. It works wonders. I talked about this a bit in yesterday's post.

When you find yourself on one of those (hopefully few) journeys slogging down the Low Road, know that you can repair your relationship with your child. Admit you're human and thus imperfect, talk with your children, and move on. The only thing you don't want to do is ignore it. Your children will remember your effort at repair, or they'll remember your lack of effort. Which do you want remembered?

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This post is part of the Attachment Parenting Month blog carnival, hosted by Attachment Parenting International. Learn more about how you can stay “Attached at the Heart Through the Years” by visiting API Speaks, the blog of Attachment Parenting International.

If you liked this post, you might enjoy What I've Learned As a Parent ...

Thanks to Alyssa for the idea for this post!

Photo by aussiegall from here

Tax Free Shopping ... or Taxing Shopping?

I'm not a shopper. I'm too cheap, nothing ever fits, I'm too picky, malls give me headaches, shopping makes my feet hurt, I hate having our country's over-the-top consumerism repeatedly blasting me in the fact all day, and the prices are way over my budget (did I mention that I'm cheap?). I find tax-free shopping to be anything but ... it taxes my patience and my sanity mightily.

But once every year I drag myself out with the other eager shoppers to tackle the stores during tax-free weekend. This is the weekend that the state drops its excessively high sales tax (which we have in place of a state income tax, and I'm not complaining!) for back-to-school shoppers. (Don't tell, but those of us who aren't going back to school take advantage of it too!)

Granted, the sales tax alone isn't high enough to warrant fighting the crowds, since I'd only be saving less than 9%. But lots of stores have large sales to entice people into their lairs, so that's worth it to me once a year to brave the shopping hoards.

So I just now got back home, at almost midnight, because many of the stores have extended hours.

I saw lots of moms with their kids, mostly older kids since that's the areas of the stores that I'm shopping in now. I guess I live in my own little bubble, because I'm constantly amazed at how much parents dislike being around their kids, and vice-versa. The moms were eagerly shopping, looking forward with glee to getting the kids out of their houses all day long starting Monday, and the kids were barely disguising their disgust for having to actually appear in public with their parents, much less to go shopping, because in their parents' presence the kids can no longer pretend that they were hatched or dropped from an alien spacecraft.

S and I spent several hours together this morning, walking from store to store with virtually no success at crossing things off our list, but we joked and kidded around and generally had a great time. The great time had to do with being together in spite of our mission.

I feel so sorry for those kids don't enjoy spending time with their parents, and I feel sorry for those parents who don't enjoy - or even know - their kids. Both sides are really missing out.

Who knows? I may be eating my words in a couple of years when one of my kids goes through that stage, but I certainly hope not. I'm doing everything in my power to make what most people think is inevitable be evitable (yes, it's a word ... I looked it up). Only time will tell.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Beyond Babies.

Photo by lu_lu from here.

Difficulties of Attachment Parenting

Being an AP parent to one child is hard.

Being an AP parent to two children is even harder, and sometimes seems damned near impossible, because what worked with the first doesn't work with the second.

Being an AP parent to three children is easy, because by then you've given up trying to be the perfect parent, or even some distant resemblance to that parent you were sure you'd be, and you're just happy if your kid isn't crusty, smelly, or hungry. (Just kidding. It's still hard.)

Seriously, one of the hardest things for me about being attached is finding time to myself to recharge. I'm an introvert, and my alone-time is a necessity for my sanity (or at least what's left of it). But having one, two, or three children hanging on you every minute of every day and night is truly exhausting.

I honestly believe that the only AP parent who finds parenting a breeze has a doormat for a child. And if you're truly a parent who is conscious of the needs and desires of her child, then he/she can't possibly grow up to be a doormat!

Another terribly difficult thing about being AP to more than one child is that each child is different, and you have to relearn parenting with each one. What works with the first child probably won't work with the next, and what works with the third will be something completely different from either of the two previous things.

My children couldn't be more different. It's taken me years to learn how each of their brains works, and thus how to parent each of them effectively. And believe you me, it's tough sometimes trying to come up with something in one situation that works for all of them.

My "rule follower" is lost and distressed unless he has clear boundaries and guidelines to follow. My "free spirit" digs in her heels if I try to lay down the law with her. And my "life of the party" gets totally bent out of shape if I don't let him be completely independent - at least, that is, until he wants to be velcroed to my side.

If all this is discouraging, don't let it be. Attachment parenting - which basically means being respectful of your children and staying close to them - is worth it. If you're still not sure that it's worth all the effort over the long haul, read yesterday's post.

This post was actually a post that I wrote over four years ago, when G was 8 and T was 4. Funny, it's all still true. Fortunately, I now have the extra years to look back on it and say, "Whew! That was hard! But it was worth it." So many parents think that being an attached to young children is easy, while being attached to older kids is hard. But oh, man, these days life is so much easier.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like What I've Learned As a Parent.

Does attachment parenting really work?

Does attachment parenting work, especially in the long run?

I hear this question and similar ones constantly.

"What happens when my kids get older?"

"I understand attachment parenting when my kids are young. But how will I know that my child won't be a mama's boy? Or so held fast by my apron strings that he won't leave home? Won't want to get married?"

"I understand about breast-feeding and co-sleeping and holding my kids close to me when they're young. But what happens when they go to kindergarten and elementary school? And what happens when they begin to play at other kids' homes, or hang out with friends, or go on dates and I'm not around?"

"How will I know that all this energy that I've put into attachment parenting will pay off in the long run?" That's the question, isn't it?

Let me tell you a little story. Once there was a impossibly small boy who screamed. He entered life at just over two pounds and fought from the first day. At two, he didn't talk. He didn't say "Mama." He toddled through life from day to day scared. He was terrified of the word no. He fought change desperately. Anything new, he hated.

He thrived on routine and consistency, and every day he had meltdowns. Not tantrums. Not 15-minute venting sessions. He had full-blown meltdowns, several times a day, sometimes as long as an hour and a half. He fought the world, because it was out of his control. His parents thought that there was a good chance that he would never leave home. Never go to college. Never get married.

They held him close, nurtured him, loved him, and did all the normal attachment parenting things: breast-feeding, cosleeping, responding to cries ... walking through the wee hours of the morning because he hated to be rocked and holding him while he screamed. Not knowing what the future would hold, but hoping for the best. Was it possible that his parents were causing him to be even more dependent on them than he already was? Was it possible that by not pushing him out of the nest and forcing independence he would never become independent? They didn't know. All they knew was that their little boy, their beautiful child, needed love and respect for who he was.

Fast forward almost thirteen years. That boy, once so tiny and clingy and desperate, today boarded a plane to Tennessee on his own with only his best friend by his side. In three days he'll return home again on his own - this time without even a best friend for company. This same boy - indeed, the beginnings of a man - is planning on hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail in two months and has been invited by an ambassador program to spend three weeks next summer in Europe, and he's planning on attending, with total strangers and with his parents across an ocean.

Does attachment parenting work? I can't say for sure that this child blossomed because of attachment parenting, because of being held and respected and loved unconditionally for who he was, for not being put down when he cried, and for not being ignored when he called out to his parents.

What I can say is that this child has exceeded by far every expectation of his parents, his doctors, and therapists. Today he is confident and self-assured and brilliant and just plain fun to be around. He loves to live, has great plans for the future, and has dreams he plans to fulfill. He talks about college, his future wife and family, and his plans for his life.

One thing I know for sure is that having his personality respected and his needs fulfilled when he was young certainly couldn't have hurt him. Having parents who responded to his needs has helped shape him into the person he is today, vibrant and full of life.

Were we, his parents, responsible for who he is? Certainly not. The credit goes fully to him. I simply like to believe that we gave him the best possible opportunity to develop and thrive. Had he been raised by parents who spank and humiliate and punish, he might well have turned out a very different person with a broken spirit. I'm glad we'll never know.

Does attachment parenting work? We're living proof.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Great Expectations.

Consistency Is Key

In my post last Wednesday, I proposed a scenario. You're standing in front of a vending machine and your child is throwing a tantrum. What to do? You vacillate between giving in and holding your ground. I gave you some options for responses - I was curious to see what most of you would do.

So, what was the correct option to choose? The right answer is ... drumroll ...

... it depends.

What did you think? That I'd actually know the right answer? Ha ha.

The truth is, the correct option depends on lots of things: the age of your child, the personality of your child, what your day has been like, what you've done in the past, what your child's current mental state is, and what kinds of things make your child feel secure.

Today I just want to focus on Option A. When you give in to your child's demands in the middle of the tantrum, why is it that you always feel so defeated and disrespected? Does your kid appreciate getting his way? Probably not. But why not? After all, you're giving him what he wants. Isn't that what all kids want ... their way?

As it turns out, most likely not.

Think about the life of a young child. What is their world like? A place of newness and mystery. Every day they encounter things that they've never before seen: new technology, new people, new social expectations. For some kids, this is a delight. They wake each day ready to tackle every new situation they come across, and do it with an enthusiastic smile.

But there's another entirely different type of child, one that some of us can't recognize immediately, especially if we're more the adventurous type. This child is one that sees life's newness as frightening and threatening. This child wakes each morning, wondering what new situation he'll encounter and fearful that he won't know how to respond. Yesterday, it was Mom expecting him to have a conversation with the cashier at the grocery store - a total stranger! - and the day before that it was Dad expecting him to go on a field trip with his class to someplace he'd never been before - and get there in a stranger's car (the parent of a classmate he doesn't even like all that much!) - and do it without Mom or Dad with him.

What'll it be today? Will he be expected to go someplace with lots of overwhelming noise and bright lights with tons of people? Will he be expected to play with other kids he's never met before? He may wake each morning on edge, waiting for that "thing" that will happen that'll throw him off track.

What this type of kid thrives on is consistency. That's all those things that so many adults think is limiting a child's creativity: schedule, routine, order. For this kid - and I know, because my oldest is just this sort - he flounders with spontaneity and thrives on routine.

So how does this relate to the vending machine incident? Look at what the parent is giving this child. She's saying one thing ("I'll buy you a snack, but it needs to be healthy.") and doing another ("Here. Have the damned Oreos."). The child simply can't know what to expect. Will my mom stick to what she said, or will she waffle? I can't count on her.

One of the main things I want from my kids is to trust me. I want them to know that what I say is what I mean - without a doubt. I want them to know that if I tell them something, they can count on me following through - whether it's something they enjoy or something they don't.

Of course, I'm not rigid or unreasonable. I always encourage them to give me good reasons to change my mind if I've said something they don't like ("no pizza for movie night this week" ... "but Mom, we haven't had pizza in a month, and here's a coupon!"). And I sometimes change my mind ("I know I said that we weren't going to get pizza for movie night this week, but I didn't go to the grocery store and I have a coupon"). And of course, if I'm forced by circumstances to not be consistent - say, if guests dropped by unexpectedly and we weren't able to have movie night - I always apologize and talk with them to work out an alternative solution.

My point is, I want my kids to trust my word and to find our home a safe, secure place that they know they can count on. Does that mean that they sometimes don't get what they want? Sure. Does that mean that sometimes I don't get what I want? Sure. But at least my kids know where I stand.

How would I have handled the vending machine incident? These days, it would be Option D. If they didn't have their own money, they'd have to live with what I'm willing to buy or go hungry. When they were younger, it would most likely have been Option C or E (depending on how far the tantrum had progressed and my patience lasted).

Was our house tantrum free when the kids were young? Good grief, no. (And some of those tantrums were thrown by my kids, not me.) We were Tantrum Central for years. It took me years to figure out, though, that many of those tantrums were caused by my child feeling out of control. By being consistent and providing a stable environment, I'm able to counter some of that anxiety.

One of my goals as a parent is to respect the personality of each of my children and to provide a home where they have stability and trust.

I can tell after reading this post that my thoughts are all jumbled up. I have a lot of ideas about consistency, high-needs children, and respect for individual personalities. I'll have to think about this and try to put my thoughts together better in another post.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like Natural and Logical Consequences

Photo of cookie by Torben H from here