Braggy Mom or Bloggy Mom?

I would not have the following conversation with a mom friend of mine:

Mom friend: “How are you today, Rachel?”

Me: “I’m great, mom friend. Claire just said an 11-word sentence, which was grammatically correct. It was one of the most awesome things I’ve ever heard. It made my day!”

I would share that sentiment with my husband, Claire’s grandma or a friend who doesn’t have kids. My friends without kids would probably say something in return like, “Cool! Is an 11-word sentence good?”

I was reluctant to start a post like this too, even though it's the truth about Claire's current state of language acquisition, as well as my feeling about her blossoming ability to share her thoughts with me.

After all, I’m breaking serious mom etiquette. I’m not supposed to a) admit to keeping track of my child’s development so blatantly as to count the words in her sentences or b) be bragging about her mad skills in any particular area. If you google “bragging mom”, you can find tons of articles shaming such officious behavior.

I’m by nature a rule follower. I fear I’m exposing an obnoxious, squawking side of myself that is derided by mothers everywhere.

It’s precisely because of my fear that I swing to the opposite direction in daily interactions, which is equally annoying. I find myself being apologetic, diminishing my daughter’s very own strengths. I can see the wheels turning in other mom's heads as they compare their child to my daughter:

“I can’t get over how Claire talks. Sarah doesn’t say a word yet,” mom friend said, recently. “Do you think she’s autistic?”

“Wow, I want Max to hang around Claire more often,” another mom friend said. “Why can’t he say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ like her?”

Another mom was more direct: “I’m jealous! I wish Cassie talked like that,” she said.

I can’t take these statements. I don’t like feeling that Claire and I have made other people feel bad or uncomfortable. I just can’t seem to help responding by sharing Claire’s weak spots. She does not have the greatest gross motor skills, and could care less about figuring out how things like puzzles and blocks work.

I do also make a point to share the strengths that I see in each child. Sarah has amazing emotional intelligence. Max is a great problem solver. Cassandra has a long attention span. I mean what I say too. If there's one thing that I learned as a teacher of kids with special needs, it’s that all children have strengths. We are better off focusing on a child’s strengths and interests than comparing him or her to others.

But it’s human nature to compare. I do it too. That’s fine. It’s also inevitable that we want to celebrate our own children’s abilities.

Yet, as I go to hit the publish button on this post, I’m still worried about how you will view my words. I'm praying that you'll see me as less of a braggy mom, and more of a bloggy mom wanting to shine some light on a complex issue. (You do, don't you? Please tell me you do!)

I doubt I’ll be doing any such bragging to my mom friends any time soon either. I’m probably going to stick to being proud of Claire with my husband, grandma and friends who don’t know any better.

I have made a pact with myself though. I refuse to diminish my daughter any longer. That stance is ridiculously excessive. It’s a projection to think that other mothers even want this kind of reaction from me anyway.

Besides, even if they do, Claire deserves a mom who errs on the side of singing her praises, not one who is worried about people seeing her as a braggart. (You don't, do you?)

How do you feel about sharing your child’s accomplishments? How about when others share their child’s accomplishments with you? Is there a difference between 'bragging' and 'celebrating a child'?  Do you ever find yourself comparing your children to others?


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Photo Source: Jeremiah John McBride, Flckr 

The Good, The Bad and The Toddler

My baby girl turns TWO! Really, not my baby anymore. She's a person!

I couldn't be more honored to be the mama she chose to witness her transformation from baby to
toddler.

However, the miraculous milestones of toddlerhood give this mama equal opportunity to celebrate, and to complain. Half the time I'm down with the peace sign for two, the other half flipping the bird!

Here's what I mean about toddler schizophrenia:

My toddler has her own personality!
She insists on wearing a hat in eight degree weather, decides she only wants cake for breakfast or refuses to get into a car seat without a huge commotion.

She puts on her clothes all by herself!
After an hour's worth of effort.

She can undress herself too!
In public.

She understands cause and effect!
She opens the refrigerator to dump out the contents of an entire can of coffee or bag of walnuts.

She has a mouth full of baby teeth!
Which she uses to bite the cat, her parents and friends in baby classes.

She climbs up onto her chair to eat all by herself!
She climbs onto tables, bookcases and over various barriers meant to contain her.

She can talk!
Whine, say "no" and imitate my curse words with great precision and impeccable inflection.

She can walk!
Into a crowd or oncoming traffic.

She's gotten so big!
She can reach up onto kitchen counters and other surfaces that contain dangerous objects like knives and pens.

She's even tall enough to reach up and hold my hand when we're walking together!
She refuses to hold my hand when we're walking together.

She can run too!
Away from me after placing beads, pebbles and other random debris in her mouth that she's found on the ground and that are dirty and/or may result in choking.

She eats with a fork!
The fork makes a perfect catapult to propel food away from the table.

She's old enough for potty training!
Oh, yeah, we need to start potty training.

She throws a ball!
Or rocks, blocks and other heavy yet aerodynamic objects capable of breaking windows and/or causing bodily harm.

She likes to draw!
On walls, furniture, expensive family heirlooms and the entire length of her body.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl! I marvel at my growing, learning, curious beauty, who embraces the world with arms wide open!
When she's not making me want to pull my hair out.


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Photo Source: Mike Bailey-Gates, Flickr, this photo was resized, which does not suggest that the licensor endorses me, this site or its content.
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Are You There God? It's Me, Rachel

MEMORANDUM                                            PRIORITY: URGENT                                                                         

2/9/2013

To:  Powers that be

Fr:  Rachel Demas, The Tao of Poop

Re:  Toddler Tantrums

First, let me take a moment to thank you for the opportunity to engage in toddler tantrums at the tender age of 18 months old. While we thought our daughter was a bit young for such behavior, we remain optimistic that getting a jump on the situation now will serve as great preparation come the dreaded "terrible twos" stage. Actually, the terrible twos brings me to the central issue of this memo.

It was my impression that tantrums this frequent, illogical, random, protracted, unpredictable, overwhelming, and unmanageable should commence when my daughter reaches the age of two, preferably on her birthday and not a day sooner. To my knowledge, they are upon us now. The early onset of this situation has me shocked and confused, and brings me to a question and a request.

Question: Will my daughter's tantrums get worse when she turns two? Given our current circumstance, I don't see how this scenario is possible. I write seeking your reassurance that this fear is as irrational as my daughter's recent tantrums seem to me. Your reassurance in this matter will allow me to move forward knowing that, indeed, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Request: Because my daughter's tantrums began at 18 months old, I would beseech you to relieve us of their burden by the time my daughter is two and a half. I realize I'm probably not the first parent to solicit your intercession on his or her behalf, and have no other special circumstances to report, which would have given my case additional merit. Further, I am aware that, as a first-time parent, I may appear naive about some of the vicissitudes of a toddler's behavior. However, I merely ask that you see the logic in my math. If the terrible twos start six months early (as, indeed, they have for us), I believe they should end six months early as well.

Please find attached requisite form OP-160 for your review. In advance, I appreciate that you have taken this missive under advisement. Further, I realize that you must be extremely busy with other pressing issues from desperate parents like me, so I would like to thank you for your attention in this matter.

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Photo Source: John Fera, Wikipedia, license

Name Calling

My friend Kate gets up in arms when people teach their children the correct anatomical names for their private parts. She fears that her daughters will be exposed to them at school or on the playground. A world full of pee-pee's and wee-wee's would suit her just fine.

I told her that her impulse to shield her children from perceived bad influences is admirable, but that it's like trying to keep them from catching a cold. Sometimes the odds are in your favor, sometimes not.

I also offered her the unsolicited advice that, when faced with this situation, she could use it as an opportunity to explain how all families are different and that we need to be respectful of other people's beliefs, while maintaing our own. 

That just made her mad. I understand. I don't like unsolicited advice either. We did restore harmony to our conversation, though. We agreed that it's really cool to watch your child learn to speak (private parts aside). 

Personally, I'm fascinated by speech and language development. Why is it that when Claire says "helicopter", it sounds like "belly hooper", but she can say the word "clementine" clear as a bell?  

But, as Claire starts connecting the things in her world with words, I am realizing that there are whole classes of words that we have to decide what to call or whether to use at all. Until recently, I hadn't begun to contemplate my role as Maoist censor in her life. I find it more complicated than choosing her name at birth.

Clearly, we have tried to whitewash curse words from our vocabulary. And we don't want her to use words like "hate" and "stupid". Much to my dismay, certain words have already entered her vocabulary. Claire seems to find the word "butt" extremely funny. I live in fear of the moment when she screams "Mama butt" in public, or something equally embarrassing. I know it's going to happen. She's also very fond of the words "booger" and "fart". My husband and I hadn't developed a sound philosophy about what to call things like these, which are a part of everyday reality and need to be named something.

We did agree that Claire should learn the words for her body parts, "vagina" included. Mainly because they do have names. I haven't gotten up the nerve to tell Kate about this decision. I'm hoping she will still let us play with her daughters. I'm counting on the fact that she will find some consolation in our other decision, which is to teach Claire the difference between words that are public and those that are private (after all that's why they're called "private parts", right?) 

Right now, though, my 19 month old will have no grasp of this concept. I'm thinking I should start plastering her with parental advisory stickers to give people a heads up that my daughter may display behavior similar to someone with Tourette Syndrome. Since that strategy is clearly impractical, we'll have to get used to the fact that we are in for a long, booger butt ride.


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Growing Up

On New Year's Eve last year, Claire had yet to say her first word or take a step. She hadn't felt ice-cream melt sweetly in her mouth, nor had she crunched a slice of shiny red apple. She hadn't returned a hug or a kiss. She'd yet to make a joke that had us laughing together. 

She enters 2013 able to do all of these things and more. The new year holds such possibilities for her as well.

Just as 2013 contains potential for all of us. I wish everyone a year of growth like a child. I wish you the capacity to embrace change in 2013, to make new discoveries, and to lust for life in the way of a child -- curious, courageous and eyes wide open.

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Father Daughter

"Get up!" my toddler, Claire, implores, as she tries to push me off the living room carpet.

Evidently, I'm not moving quickly enough, so she orders again, "Get up! Papa coming!"

Papa has arrived. My time as the sun, stars and moon in the eyes of my nineteen month old has ended. George is now the desired partner for the block building party.  It's not surprising that it took longer for the father/daughter relationship to blossom like it is now. After all, Claire and I got a nine month jump on her father. Perhaps, this is the beginning of "Daddy's Little Girl" that I've heard so much about.

Intellectually, I know three things about this recent shift in familial relations.

First, it's hilarious to see a toddler engage in exclusionary behavior worthy of a Mean Girl, even when the person she is giving the cold shoulder to is moi.

Second, watching the father/daughter relationship grow is such a gift. Claire and George play together so beautifully. Papa doesn't treat her like a baby; she's his equal. I've never seen two people make more meaningful towers of blocks together. I relish the opportunity to see what else they will build in the years to come.

Third, I know that this kind of early triangulation is a hallmark of individuation, a process through which all children must go. I'm glad that Claire feels safe enough in our relationship to reject me without fear that I will abandon her. 

My visceral reaction is a different story, though..."What am I, chopped liver, here?" I find myself on the outside, not a part of their exclusive, little club.

I feel a little sorry for myself too…"Nobody likes me, not even my daughter."

Then, I start to question my interpersonal skills, "She's right. I need to be more fun, like George." Now, I'm acting like an insecure teenager who's trying to figure out how to please a boy or get those Mean Girls to like her. 

But I'm not a teenager anymore, I'm a mom. So I remind myself that, if I were Claire, I'd probably prefer to play with George too. I love them both more watching them love each other.

And, really, I don't need to change. The next time Claire bumps her head or needs a hug, I'm sure she'll seek out mama. She's smart to play to our strengths.

Plus, Claire's cosmos clearly contains room for both of us. And so much more.

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