It makes me so happy when I read through parenting books or articles and come across bits about how important it is to praise a child. I try to always give my daughter praise for every little thing she gets right. It has proven to be a very effective way to manage her behavior. As all these articles and books have promised, she seeks it out now. When she does something I've told her to do, she even claps for herself, sometimes before I do. It has made me so proud to see her pick her toys up and look at me expectantly, or stop cold when I tell her "no" and wait for her "good girl". What satisfies my parenting ego all the more though, is to see her begin to praise other people for their good behavior. A few days ago, I was babysitting a two year old. He is in that stage where he enjoys doing things for himself. Olivia saw him put a toy in the toy box when he was finished with it, and she started clapping!
I think it is very easy to focus on the things we don't want our kids to do, and how to stop them, or on the big stepping stones, like potty training. But I agree wholeheartedly that it is equally, and possibly more important, to teach kids that their everyday successes don't go unnoticed
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
.... or small problems....
I just want to say before I start this that I love all my friends, no matter what, and I will always have time for you. And, this is not directed at anyone particularly, just something I have observed over the years.
Life is hard. There's no question. Somehow, our own difficulties always seem much worse than someone else's. To make matters worse, someone else usually trivializes our problems (often unintentionally). The only way, I feel, that we can prevent these hurts piling on hurts is to stop comparing our scars and wounds. No one has the exact same life as any other person, but more importantly, no one experiences any one situation the same way. Whether someone is upset about a death of someone close to them or a promotion they should have gotten that went to someone else, if it's important to them, I try to respect that feeling. I would hate to think that when I confided in a friend that I was struggling with something that they might think I'm being overly sensitive, that I need to "suck it up", or that their problems are worse and more important than my own. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I just wish everyone could be respectful and sensitive to the people around them. I don't buy into the whole walk a mile in someone's shoes bit, because I think it takes much more than a mile to understand another point of view, if you even ever can. I prefer to accept people without judgement, and be there for them in a way that they can accept and understand. Otherwise, instead of helping people, you end up gratifying your ego. It degrades to a competition of complaints, a competition in which there are no winners.
Life is hard. There's no question. Somehow, our own difficulties always seem much worse than someone else's. To make matters worse, someone else usually trivializes our problems (often unintentionally). The only way, I feel, that we can prevent these hurts piling on hurts is to stop comparing our scars and wounds. No one has the exact same life as any other person, but more importantly, no one experiences any one situation the same way. Whether someone is upset about a death of someone close to them or a promotion they should have gotten that went to someone else, if it's important to them, I try to respect that feeling. I would hate to think that when I confided in a friend that I was struggling with something that they might think I'm being overly sensitive, that I need to "suck it up", or that their problems are worse and more important than my own. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I just wish everyone could be respectful and sensitive to the people around them. I don't buy into the whole walk a mile in someone's shoes bit, because I think it takes much more than a mile to understand another point of view, if you even ever can. I prefer to accept people without judgement, and be there for them in a way that they can accept and understand. Otherwise, instead of helping people, you end up gratifying your ego. It degrades to a competition of complaints, a competition in which there are no winners.
Monday, January 30, 2012
the little red fail meter
To be a parent is to live not quite on the edge of certainty.
I have always been a confident, independent person. I weighed my options. I made decisions. I lived confidently with whatever consequences came. When I learned I was pregnant, two years ago, I continued to act with this self assurance. In the hospital, having just given birth, I had no doubts. As soon as I got my beautiful, tiny bundle in our very small, very crunchable car, however, my entire thought process changed. Suddenly, everything was frought with potential danger. I quickly realized I was ignorant and emotional and driven by instinct. I cleverly hid these facts behind the decisions I had made when I was well rested (compared to my new sleepless, hagard state) and sane. I maniacally stuck to breastfeeding (which for our first month together meant attempted nursing my daughter, followed by a breastmilk bottle feeding and similtaneous pumping), though my preemie daughter could not suckle. I "taught" more experienced parents how to hold and burp and rock my precious child. I worked myself into exhaustion and depression because I didn't know what else I could do.
My daughter had slept in her crib across the room from me until finally, seven long months later, I determined I was doing something wrong. I was at the end of my tether. I could no longer function. I continued to wake up, now every three hours to nurse her back to sleep, which was the method I had set myself on after much research during my pregnancy.
So, after much shifting and cleaning of what was the office, my daughter got her own room. That day now seems an eternity ago, but one thing has not changed- the red light on the baby monitor that indicates the level of noise being made on the other end. When I can hear her, but not see the light on the devilish device, I feel like a good parent, training my child to soothe herself, allowing her to gain confidence, allowing myself to do the dishes. However, when I see that red light climb to it's peak with each cry, I feel like the most miserable failure to ever bear a child. It is as if every success I have ever had is meaningless because this wretched machine went from a harmless flat green to a glaring red glow.
Parents are not, on the whole, any dumber or less knowledgeable than those who have not reproduced, or than their pre-reproduction selves. We don't loose the ability to reason; we simply have a better view of how the butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane, and an instinctual need to prevent it from the source. Because of this, we second, third and tenth guess ourselves, constantly worrying that whatever decision we go with today will prove to cause some bigger problem tomorrow. We are surrounded by people and things that attempt to tell us that our choices are wrong-there are countless studies to prove it. The truth is, we, parents- not the general public, not emotionless red lighted machinery, or the ad department of Huggies, Johnson and Johnson or Fisher Price- WE were entrusted to care for our children and teach them to be independent and confident.
I have always been a confident, independent person. I weighed my options. I made decisions. I lived confidently with whatever consequences came. When I learned I was pregnant, two years ago, I continued to act with this self assurance. In the hospital, having just given birth, I had no doubts. As soon as I got my beautiful, tiny bundle in our very small, very crunchable car, however, my entire thought process changed. Suddenly, everything was frought with potential danger. I quickly realized I was ignorant and emotional and driven by instinct. I cleverly hid these facts behind the decisions I had made when I was well rested (compared to my new sleepless, hagard state) and sane. I maniacally stuck to breastfeeding (which for our first month together meant attempted nursing my daughter, followed by a breastmilk bottle feeding and similtaneous pumping), though my preemie daughter could not suckle. I "taught" more experienced parents how to hold and burp and rock my precious child. I worked myself into exhaustion and depression because I didn't know what else I could do.
My daughter had slept in her crib across the room from me until finally, seven long months later, I determined I was doing something wrong. I was at the end of my tether. I could no longer function. I continued to wake up, now every three hours to nurse her back to sleep, which was the method I had set myself on after much research during my pregnancy.
So, after much shifting and cleaning of what was the office, my daughter got her own room. That day now seems an eternity ago, but one thing has not changed- the red light on the baby monitor that indicates the level of noise being made on the other end. When I can hear her, but not see the light on the devilish device, I feel like a good parent, training my child to soothe herself, allowing her to gain confidence, allowing myself to do the dishes. However, when I see that red light climb to it's peak with each cry, I feel like the most miserable failure to ever bear a child. It is as if every success I have ever had is meaningless because this wretched machine went from a harmless flat green to a glaring red glow.
Parents are not, on the whole, any dumber or less knowledgeable than those who have not reproduced, or than their pre-reproduction selves. We don't loose the ability to reason; we simply have a better view of how the butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane, and an instinctual need to prevent it from the source. Because of this, we second, third and tenth guess ourselves, constantly worrying that whatever decision we go with today will prove to cause some bigger problem tomorrow. We are surrounded by people and things that attempt to tell us that our choices are wrong-there are countless studies to prove it. The truth is, we, parents- not the general public, not emotionless red lighted machinery, or the ad department of Huggies, Johnson and Johnson or Fisher Price- WE were entrusted to care for our children and teach them to be independent and confident.
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