Don't Judge Attachment Parenting By its Cover

Something strange is happening.  I seem to be embracing the term “attachment parenting” more ever since the Time cover.  I’ve never liked labels.  Labels by their very definition attempt to make everyone the same.  And everyone is not the same.  So labels, by their very definition, fail every time. 

So I never voluntarily called myself AP.  I never embraced that title.  Heck, I’ve never even read a Dr. Sears book, and probably never will.  But there did come a time, when I wanted to find other people who parented the way I was parenting.  I wanted friends - mom friends - and using the AP label was the best and fastest way to do just that. 

Some seem to get all caught up in this word, “attachment.”  They think that AP means that you literally are attached to your kids 24/7.  If you don’t think people think that, just read THIS, written by a DOCTOR. 

And yes, I will freely admit there really are extremists out there that do try and literally stay attached to their kids 24/7.  They are few and far between; most AP parents are not extremists. 

Just like most republicans aren’t Ted Nugent, most computer nerds aren’t Bill Gates, most George Clooney fans don’t have an old VCR tape with every TV performance he ever made recorded on it (looks around innocently), and most people who advocate spanking as a discipline tool aren’t the parents on my local news last night who beat a toddler so bad she had two broken legs and two broken arms. 

Extremists do not discriminate; and honestly, we can all probably find something we are more extreme over than those around us.    But not all of us.  See what I did there?

Most AP moms are NOT extremists.  I can attest to this personally, because I practice AP type parenting like breastfeeding, cosleeping, and babywearing, yet I am not an extremist.  I have also used, at one time or another, a bouncer, swing, highchair, crib, and stroller.  I’ve used formula and bottles.  I’ve made wonderful parenting decisions and huge parenting blunders. 

It has been kind of my goal in life to find the exact opposite of extremist - balance.  I’m just seeking the balance of life. 

My kids balance each other out pretty well.  The 6-year-old hardly eats a thing and sleeps like a log.  The 20-month-old eats like a hobbit and fights sleep with every single fiber of her being. 

It wasn’t my parenting that made them like this.  I didn’t use one parenting style with one and a radically different style with the other.  I parent them both using as balanced a mix of education and instincts as I can.  And that balance has evolved and changed as my education has gotten better and my instincts have gotten keener. 

This is just who they are.  And for me, the biggest part about being an attachment parent is listening to my child’s individual cues.  I don’t parent by the book, anybody’s book. 

The problem with criticizing AP in general is you force everyone practicing these techniques into the same label, and that just doesn’t work.  You can’t look at one AP mom and see an AP standard.  When you do that, you aren’t seeing her, you are just seeing words on a page (or a severely staged image). 

When trying to judge an AP mom, I would instead suggest looking at snippets of that mom’s life.  This way you will be judging her, not a stigma, an image, or a cover of a magazine. 

Here’s a snippet of this AP mom’s life, today’s naptime:

When my 20-month-old daughter rubbed her eyes and laid her head on my chest, I knew it was time for nap.  It didn’t shock me, this happens every day around the same time.  Not the EXACT same time, just around. 

I could have marched her into the bedroom, tucked her in, and left the room.  Then I could have listened to her cry for an hour while I tried to ignore how awful it felt by watching TV or folding laundry.  But I didn’t.

I could have wrapped her up on my chest with my Wrapsody baby wrap and worn her through her entire nap while I tried to watch TV or do the dishes with a gigantic baby attached to me.  But I didn’t.

What I did do, was put on Linda Ronstadt’s “Get Closer” album, scooped up my baby girl, and danced around the living room singing along to some of my very favorite songs.  Scarlett immediately laid her head on my shoulder and relaxed.  This was something we both enjoyed. 

By the time “People Gonna Talk” started playing (oh, the irony!), she was fast asleep.  That was only the 5th song on side one (listening on my mom’s vinyl), which means she fell asleep within 12 minutes, 36 seconds.  It could have happened a little before that, while I was distracted by the rock and roll.

Here’s the kicker: when I noticed she had fallen asleep, I didn’t immediately put her down.  I kept holding her, snuggling her, taking in her heat, her snuggles, her love.  I was waiting for the next song, “Talk to Me of Mendocino.”  I wanted to hold my baby and listen to that song.

The reason has less to do with AP and more to do with my life experience.  Mendocino always reminds me of my mom.  We listened to this entire album together more times than I can count, and ever since she died, this song makes me miss her, feel close to her, and think fondly of her.  My mom never read an AP book in her life, I'm not even sure she ever heard the term.  I'll tell you what, I was attached to my mom until the day she died, and beyond.

Scarlett also reminds me of my mom.  She was conceived just months after my mom’s death and born on my mom’s birthday.  She reminds me of my mom in so many ways.  So as I stood there in my living room, waiting to put my sleeping toddler to bed, I decided to hold her, and dance to Mendocino, and think about how much I loved my mom and how much I loved my sweet baby.

We were attached.  

I know, that kind of gloopity glop doesn’t have any science to back it up.  There is no parenting book that advocates it as a safe and effective way to get your kid to sleep.  There is no squeaky tight definition to describe it. 

It’s love.  That’s all.  This is how I loved my child today.  This is how I parented my child today.  This is how one AP mom got her child to take a nap today.  Tomorrow she may fall asleep in her stroller during our walk, she does that quite often.  Or maybe I’ll just lie her in bed and let her fall asleep while I lay next to her.  Maybe it will take 5 minutes.  Maybe it will take an hour.  Maybe it won’t happen at all and I will be thoroughly frustrated with nap time and spend the rest of the day trying to get over the irritation.

But today... for one AP mom mom.... nap time was a beautiful, musical success.

People Gonna Talk

People gonna talk about the things you do
They're gonna talk, be it lie or true
Night or day, day or night
They're gonna talk be it wrong or right

People gonna talk about you anyway
They're gonna talk no matter what you say
Night or day, day or night
They're gonna talk be it wrong or right

It seems they've just got to
Yakety yakety yak
Though they know best not to
The minute you turn your back

People gonna talk until they're satisfied
They're gonna talk until they make you cry
Near or far, here right now
They're gonna talk 'cause that's how people are

It seems they've just got to
Yakety yakety yak
Though they know best not to
The moment you turn your back

People gonna talk until they're satisfied
They're gonna talk until they make you cry
Here right now, near or far
They're gonna talk 'cause that's how people are
They're gonna talk 'cause that's how people are


Talk To Me of Mendocino

I bid farewell to the state of old New York

My home away from home
In the state of New York I came of age

When first I started roaming

And the trees grow high in New York state
And they shine like gold in Autumn

Never had the blues (from) whence I came

But in New York state I caught 'em

Talk to me of Mendocino

Closing my eyes I hear the sea
Must I wait, must I follow?

Won't you say "Come with me?"

And it's on to Southbend, Indiana

Flat out on the Western plains

Rise up over the Rockies and down on into California

Out to where but the rocks remain

And let the sun set on the ocean

I will watch it from the shore

Let the sun rise over the redwoods
I'll rise with it till I rise no more

Talk to me of Mendocino
Closing my eyes, I hear the sea
Must I wait, must I follow?
Won't you say "Come with me?"

Yes! I am Mom Enough!

According to the internet, Time magazine has put a question to every single mother in America: Are you mom enough? I'd like to take a moment to address that question.

When I planned my first natural birth, I was mom enough.  When I instead had an emergency cesarean birth, I was mom enough.  When doctors tried to tell me how to birth my second baby, I was mom enough.  When I had a VBAC at home, I was mom enough.

When I planned to breastfeed my baby because I knew it was best for her, I was mom enough.  When I had an enormous amount of trouble breastfeeding after my cesarean birth, I was mom enough. 

When I was told in the hospital to pour formula on my nipples to help my baby latch, I was mom enough.  When it took two hours just to GET her to latch on, I was mom enough.  When I got in trouble with the nurses because I let her sleep too long without nursing her, I was mom enough.  When I let her sleep on top of my chest, I was mom enough.

When breastfeeding didn’t get any easier once I went home, I was mom enough.  When all I did for three weeks was breastfeed my daughter, I was mom enough.  When I finally couldn’t take anymore and I pumped a bottle of breastmilk so her dad could feed her, I was mom enough. 

When I started to supplement with formula, I was mom enough.  When my daughter wanted to hold her own bottle at 4 months old, I was mom enough.  When I started solid food too early (4 months) I was mom enough.  When I tried and tried and tried to get my kid to eat something, ANYTHING, I was mom enough.

When my first daughter weaned at 7 months and never wanted the breast again, I was mom enough.

When nursing my second daughter was a breeze, I was mom enough.  When I nursed her all the time, whenever she wanted, I was mom enough.  When I nursed her in public, I was mom enough.  When I kept nursing her past a year, I was mom enough.  


When my 20 month old daughter still asks for "babas" and I breastfeed her, I am mom enough.   When I night weaned that 20-month-old because I needed.  To.  Sleeeeeep.  I was mom enough. 




When I get a cold and stay in bed as much as I can, I’m mom enough.  When my extremely introverted personality just can’t handle the PTO, I am mom enough.  When I take my girls to the park almost every single day, I am mom enough.  When I let them watch TV, I am mom enough.

When I tried a horrible pocket sling with Dani and hated it, I was mom enough.  When I carried her in her infant carrier or pushed her in a stroller, I was mom enough.  When I researched wraps during my second pregnancy, I was mom enough.  When I used a wrap, sling, or baby carrier through most of my second daughter’s first month of life, I was mom enough.  When I still put my 20-month-old in a wrap, I am mom enough.  When I put them in swings and bouncers, I was mom enough.

When I made a big hubbub about what kind of carseat we would get for our first, I was mom enough.  When I THOUGHT I was doing the right thing, and turned my daughter forward-facing at 1 year and 20 pounds, I was mom enough.  When I learned how horribly dangerous that was, I vowed to keep my second child rear facing as long as humanly possible and to keep my first daughter in a five-point harness and then a booster seat as long as possible, I was mom enough.  

When I wouldn’t even consider cloth diapers with my first child, I was mom enough.  When I did decide to cloth diaper my second child, I was mom enough.  When I can't shut up to other moms about how cool cloth diapers are, even if they don't really want to hear it, I am mom enough. 

When I would go outside to smoke cigarettes, I was mom enough.  When I finally gave up smoking after 15 years, I was mom enough.

When I make carbanara, pesto meatballs with spaghetti squash, feta and kale casserole, and spinach salads for dinner, I am mom enough.  When I cook pancakes for dinner, I am mom enough.  When I take my kids to McDonald’s for dinner, I am mom enough.

When I actually get to sleep in, I am mom enough.

When I play with my kids, I am mom enough.  When I spend an entire day focused on my beautiful babies playing with them and loving them and napping with them, I am mom enough.  When I spend the day blogging or crafting or reading, I am mom enough.  When I actually find the balance between all that stuff, I am SUPER MOM!



I could go on and on and on.  And I encourage everyone reading this right now to give some more examples in the comments! My point is this:

I am the only mom my kids have.  I’m all they have ever known.  And hopefully I will be around to be all they ever know for a very, very long time.  They’re definition of perfection is me -- with all my mistakes, and my impatient moments, and my horrible mistakes (did I say that already) -- I am their perfect mom.  And as long as I always keep striving to become a better mom, I will always be mom enough for them.

And when the mom guilt comes, when I feel so insecure I think ANYbody would be a better parent to these wonderful kids than I, when I need a little help remembering that I am mom enough.... I’m going to look at my kids.  I’m going to look at my happy, healthy, well-adjusted, sometimes little farking hellions, strong, smart, and beautiful kids.  Not at the cover of Time magazine. 

I am mom enough.  And so are you.  Peace.

The Twilight Saga's Bella Swan: Poster Mom for Natural Birth

I have a confession.  I'm a big fan of all the cute little pics that have not-so-recently popped up all over Facebook.  You know, stuff like this:

This is a big reason I get on Facebook.  To chill out and laugh at frivolous stuff.

One of the latest popular themes is twi-hating.  Pithy pictures making fun of the Twilight Saga and it's cast of sparkling and shedding characters have taken over my news feed.  I commented on a few; in one I actually promised I wouldn't go all crazy and write a blog dedicated to Twilight.


Whoops.

I don’t know why I find myself filled with a desire to defend these adequate, at best, movies (and books).  Nothing about me screams twi-hard.  I am not a 14 year old girl.  I am not Stephanie Meyer’s bff.  I do not have a collectors edition, sparkly-skinned Edward Cullen doll in the back of my closet.  (Ahem.)

Maybe it’s because I always feel the need to defend those being bullied.  Maybe it’s because I read these books as I watched my mom wither away of cancer; the light, sometimes frivolous Twilight stories were a much needed break for my overworked and emotionally exhausted brain, and in turn it holds some strange, sentimental place in my heart.

It started out as me making fun of other people making fun of Twilight.  Take this for example:

Yes, thank goodness for all the scholarly people of the world who illuminate us on the difference between serious, real-life vampires and silly, made-up, sparkly ones.

Along the same lines....

Um, no Mr. mean, ugly, scary man, you are definitely not sparkling.  You also don't look like someone teenage girls want to mastu... er, want to dream about, either.  In other words, trying to put Twilight into the horror genre is like trying to book The Backstreet Boys for Ozzfest.  If you're looking for sexy, scary vampires, go straight to Netflix and make a left at The Lost Boys.

Then we move along to the many Harry Potter-themed insults.   Things like:

Now, I will freely admit that I haven't seen or read a single Harry Potter anything.  Nothing personal against wizards, I just haven't gotten around to it.  But I do live on planet Earth - coincidentally the same place all the twi-haters live - so let me give this a go.

There's this group of adults who are slightly obsessed with a set of books and movies, generally aimed at an age group much younger, that are all about a bunch of fantasy characters that could never actually exist in real life.  These people like to make fun of this other group of people who are slightly obsessed with a set of books and movies, generally aimed at an age group much younger, that are all about a bunch of fantasy characters that could never actually exist in real life.  I believe an introduction is in order - dungeon... meet dragon.  This may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

But then things got a little more serious...

People started comparing Twilight to Star Wars.

Twilight.


To Star Wars.

Has the world gone insane? Has serious film study been banned from colleges world wide? Has all common sense been replaced with bantha fodder?  Trying to call it a horror movie is one thing, but come on now.  Twilight? A science fiction movie?

You don't put the cast of Glee into a room with Hannibal Lector.  And you certainly don't try to put a teeny bop, romance saga anywhere in the same vicinity as one of the best science fiction movies ever made, let alone in the same genre! Pst... Star Wars fans, you are kind of making fun of yourselves by trying to.

And then I saw about a hundred variations of this one:

Now, I'm not usually one to take something frivolous and strip it of all that is funny.  But then I saw George Takei (of all people) post this and he said, "Parents, there are two opposing messages your daughters are receiving from Hollywood sci-fi. Which would you rather them hear?" 

Well, George.... since you asked and all.....

This is what has been bugging me the most with all the twi-hating.  People aren’t picking apart the plot, scene decoration, make-up, or editing (I'd be right with them there).  People are picking on Bella.  What a horrible excuse for a female lead character, she is.  What a horrible excuse for a role model.

Well, I have news for you... Bella is much stronger than Mr. Takei and the twi-haters give her credit for. Bella Swan is not the weak, stupid, pathetic little fawn she has been made out to be.  Bella Swan is, in fact, a poster mom for Natural Birth. Now stick with me here, I’ll lay it out for you: 

1.  Bella makes her own informed choice.

The minute Bella and Edward discover she is pregnant, Edward’s thoughts turn to abortion.  Not only that, but almost every other person close to Bella tries to talk her into terminating the pregnancy as well.  Now I’m certainly not trying to turn this into some kind of abortion debate, especially considering my prochoice stance.  But it is interesting to note that Bella is mentally and emotionally strong enough to thwart the opinions of all those around her, and make up her own mind about what to do concerning her body and her fetus.  She listens to all the information given to her, and then makes her own decision.  Hmmmm, sounds a little like informed consent to me. 

2.  Bella gets support and acquires a doula.

Bella finds herself in a position many young women know all too well: young, without her parents, and unexpectedly pregnant.  Does she curl up into a ball and ignore it? Does she try to hide it from everyone around her, give birth in a bathroom stall, and then throw the child in the trash (a storyline I've seen multiple times in tv and movies)? No, she makes an informed choice, and then immediately seeks out support.


Rosalie Cullen, Bella's sister-in-law, plays the text-book role of doula during Bella's pregnancy and birth.  She supports her decisions, gives her advice and encouragement, and steps in when her client is being ganged up on by friends, family, and care-givers. Yeah, she has to be tackled by a werewolf during the birth because she tries to kill her client, but come on.... She is a vampire.  And even doulas get hungry. 

3.  Bella chooses a homebirth.


True, giving birth to a half human/half vampire baby by emergency c-section that must be performed by super-strong vampire teeth is probably one of those overly-detailed birth plans that hospitals frown upon, but I'm still giving Bella props for choosing the more natural route.  We homebirthers need all the numbers we can get.

4. Bella risks her own life for the life of her unborn child.

This is another example that many women can relate to.  Pregnancy for many mothers is a dangerous endeavor.  But if high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, uterine tearing, and pre-eclampsia are scary, it's nothing compared to a vampire child that is literally sucking the life out of you from the inside out.  Right? 

5. Bella survives the dreaded baby-name ridicule.

Her vampire husband and in-laws don't support her.  Her werewolf best friend is disgusted by her.  Her doula is trying to bite her.  Her unborn child is literally consuming her from the inside out.  And through all of it, she still has the creative gumption to come up with 'Renesme.'  Go girl. 

So what was I getting at anyway?

Bella is human.  (Er.... was human.) Sometimes she's happy and sometimes she's sad.  Sometimes she stumbles, and sometimes she falls.  She gets depressed and curls up in a little ball.  She flies halfway around the world to save someone she loves.  Sometimes she needs to be rescued.  Sometimes she finds the strength to stand up to a bunch of invincible vampires and werewolves, all for the love of a tiny, helpless little ball of half human/half vampire joy.  She survives what is probably the most traumatic c-section ever caught on film.

Bella is a mother.  And from the description above, she reminds me of quite a few mothers I know and admire.

So to answer your question, Mr. Takei, I really hope my two daughters aren't so hard up for role models that they have to peruse teen fantasy/romance (or what you would call "sci-fi") books and movies for characters to emulate.  But if they do find themselves making a comparison, I think they could do a lot worse than Bella Swan. 

*****

This is not me.

***This post was originally written under my previous blog name, Zen and the Art of Cloth Diaper Maintenance.***