When I first started working in private practice, I was informed by someone that a bunch of websites listed me as a psychiatrist in Los Angeles (my awesome hubby has since fixed that error, thank goodness). I found that a bit ironic, given that my least favorite rotation in all of med school was psychiatry. And yet, it turns out that I deal with mental health issues almost every day both at work and (no shock) at home.
Today I jokingly mentioned to a couple of patients, who were both apologizing for breaking down in tears during their appointments, that I don't feel like I'm doing my job right if I don't make at least one person cry every day. Obviously, crying is not exactly my goal. But I guess part of me knows that I'm providing a therapeutic environment when patients feel comfortable crying in front of me and telling me how they really feel. I can honestly say that it is a rare day that I don't see any tears or talk about sensitive, painful issues with someone. When I picked my specialty, I never realized how much of this my job would involve, and yet, unlike my psych rotation, which never really clicked for me, this feels a bit like my niche, and as much as I sort of dread appointments that are likely to involve tears because I know that they will be draining, I always feel a closer connection to those women.
Dealing with depression and anxiety and other big emotions can be intimidating, but I think the biggest hurdle for a lot of people is facing the person crying in front of them. The tendency is the shove a bunch of Kleenex at her and hope she'll perk up. The crying is uncomfortable to watch, especially when there is just silence cut by sobs. All we want is for her to stop crying so that our discomfort will end, but, as you might imagine, just telling her to stop will only alienate her and teach her that her emotions are not OK and that you don't care. On the other hand, if you can suck it up and sit through the crying and help her express what's wrong, you might be able to start to understand what the problem is, but it is not an easy thing to do.
The big news here is that it's the same with our kids. We all hate when our children are upset and crying and throwing tantrums. Most of us try to hush the offending child, telling him that he's fine or ordering him to stop crying or trying to distract him, but even if that diffuses the situation, which it often does not, it doesn't fix anything. Worse, it just teaches him that his parents don't really care what's going on with him and that his feelings are unimportant.
Being mindful of our discomfort and feelings of insecurity when people are expressing big emotions can help us respond more empathetically. If we can join in our children's tantrums in a more empathetic way, we teach them to process their feelings rather than just shutting them out. They learn mindfulness, which is a key to being able to respond in a positive way to stress, rather than a way that emphasizes stuffing the pain away. Imagine what it would be like if, instead of saying, "Oh, you're OK. Get over it," you said, "I can see you're upset. Tell me what's wrong." Granted, what is wrong might be something that seems trivial to us, but asking your child to put the problem into words will start helping him learn to identify his emotions so that he can have some control over them. Your toddler's tantrums probably won't stop overnight, but when he starts understanding better where his feelings are coming from and he starts to feel that his parents are really engaged with him, tantrums will become increasingly less frequent and more productive.
But the change has to start with you. You've gotta let the tears roll down. When you see tears, hold out the tissue box to offer help, but don't try to stop them. Then, when the sobbing subsides, offer a caring ear. It will connect you in ways you never imagined.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Carpe Diem(s)
OK, so my Latin isn't so hot. No idea what the plural of "diem" is, but you get the idea.
Anyway, onto the real topic of today's post. The other day I picked up a preschool application for Asher. We have sort of planned all along that we would start Asher in preschool in January 2014, when he'll be a little over two-and-a-half. Because he is an only child, we are always concerned about his exposure to other kids and the lessons they can teach him about getting along with others. And because he is so energetic and physical, we are also concerned about him learning some self-control and order. Both of those lessons are hard to teach to a kid who stays at home with a nanny and, therefore, whose world revolves around him. Preschool is the remedy.
This preschool plan was mostly MY idea, but when I pulled into the parking lot and walked into the door of the school, I felt overwhelmed. Like most parents, I couldn't believe my little boy was big enough to be taking that step, even though that step wouldn't come for almost nine months.
So, a little vulnerable and sad, we moved into yesterday, when my husband and I started talking a bit about trips for later this year. I have been thinking for a long time that next winter would be a good time for a trip to Disneyland--Asher will be old enough to enjoy it but young enough to qualify for free admission. In considering that, I realized that we would have to do it before school starts in January because I wouldn't want to pull him out of the new routine we were trying to establish.
And then the reality of him starting school set in.
The thing that is great about having a young child is that you aren't hampered by HIS schedule. Sure, you've got your own stuff going on, so you aren't totally free, but you also don't have soccer games and cub scout meetings to muck up your plans. I purposely keep Asher free of commitments on my Thursdays off and try to keep him out of weekend activities so that we have the freedom to do whatever we want with my non-work time.
Then school happens. And then it's the school schedule plus all the stuff that goes with it--birthday parties, fundraisers. And then organized sports happen. And then other extra-curricular activities. And then you have no time.
Or at least that's how I imagine it. Having never been a mother of a preschooler before, I wouldn't really know. But that's my fear. I see all of our carefree family days slowly vaporizing. This year, our big family trip will be to a resort in Vermont, where we get a discount because we're traveling before the height of the summer vacation season. Next year, Asher will be in school, and we'll be taking our summer vacation at the same time as everyone else. So long, carefree days.
So getting back to the title of this post. When Asher was a newborn, I got totally fed up with hearing from old women at the grocery store about how I should "cherish every moment" with him. The reality is that there are a lot of un-cherish-able moments when you have a newborn, and as much as I thought I understood the gist of what they were saying, I was annoyed. But now I feel like one of those old ladies in the checkout line: carpe diem.
Take advantage of those flexible, pre-preschool days. Take your vacations at odd times. Don't over-plan your weekends. Have fun with your freedom. You might not cherish every moment, but those free days will be gone before you know it.
Anyway, onto the real topic of today's post. The other day I picked up a preschool application for Asher. We have sort of planned all along that we would start Asher in preschool in January 2014, when he'll be a little over two-and-a-half. Because he is an only child, we are always concerned about his exposure to other kids and the lessons they can teach him about getting along with others. And because he is so energetic and physical, we are also concerned about him learning some self-control and order. Both of those lessons are hard to teach to a kid who stays at home with a nanny and, therefore, whose world revolves around him. Preschool is the remedy.
This preschool plan was mostly MY idea, but when I pulled into the parking lot and walked into the door of the school, I felt overwhelmed. Like most parents, I couldn't believe my little boy was big enough to be taking that step, even though that step wouldn't come for almost nine months.
So, a little vulnerable and sad, we moved into yesterday, when my husband and I started talking a bit about trips for later this year. I have been thinking for a long time that next winter would be a good time for a trip to Disneyland--Asher will be old enough to enjoy it but young enough to qualify for free admission. In considering that, I realized that we would have to do it before school starts in January because I wouldn't want to pull him out of the new routine we were trying to establish.
And then the reality of him starting school set in.
The thing that is great about having a young child is that you aren't hampered by HIS schedule. Sure, you've got your own stuff going on, so you aren't totally free, but you also don't have soccer games and cub scout meetings to muck up your plans. I purposely keep Asher free of commitments on my Thursdays off and try to keep him out of weekend activities so that we have the freedom to do whatever we want with my non-work time.
Then school happens. And then it's the school schedule plus all the stuff that goes with it--birthday parties, fundraisers. And then organized sports happen. And then other extra-curricular activities. And then you have no time.
Or at least that's how I imagine it. Having never been a mother of a preschooler before, I wouldn't really know. But that's my fear. I see all of our carefree family days slowly vaporizing. This year, our big family trip will be to a resort in Vermont, where we get a discount because we're traveling before the height of the summer vacation season. Next year, Asher will be in school, and we'll be taking our summer vacation at the same time as everyone else. So long, carefree days.
So getting back to the title of this post. When Asher was a newborn, I got totally fed up with hearing from old women at the grocery store about how I should "cherish every moment" with him. The reality is that there are a lot of un-cherish-able moments when you have a newborn, and as much as I thought I understood the gist of what they were saying, I was annoyed. But now I feel like one of those old ladies in the checkout line: carpe diem.
Take advantage of those flexible, pre-preschool days. Take your vacations at odd times. Don't over-plan your weekends. Have fun with your freedom. You might not cherish every moment, but those free days will be gone before you know it.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Comfortable in Your Own Skin
Apparently, when I was a little girl, I decided to run out of the house and down the street naked. The older boy who lived across the street found me and delivered me home. My husband has similar stories, although in his stories, the police are involved. It seems that the cops were less busy in his hometown than mine. At any rate, it turns out that kids like to be naked. A LOT.
Since Asher has been potty trained, there has been a lot more naked time than before. Part of this is because we don't worry about accidents all the time, but most of this is because we are a bit lazy--we don't have to help him with his pants every time he gets the urge if the pants are already off. This leads to a lot of--ahem--self-exploration. It turns out that toddlers like to touch themselves, and since they don't have the social training we do when we are older, they do it a lot, right out in the open for all to see. As much as I understand the biologic reasons for all for all of this, it makes me undeniably uncomfortable.
Fast-foward to yesterday when I got home from work and sat down on the stairs to talk to Asher about his day. Immediately, he flipped up my skirt to look for my (non-existent) penis. This was a moment only slightly less embarrassing than the time my bikini top flew off on a waterslide when I was in high school (not sure who saw that, and, frankly, don't want to know, so if you were there, please keep the truth to yourself). What is a mommy to do?
Clearly, I am no expert on child-rearing, but my work has taught me one huge thing: teach your children the names for their parts. I saw a teenager the other day who had some concerns, and her pediatrician had told her that it was "just her fluff." I was totally perplexed as to what the issue might be (not to mention somewhat horrified that she couldn't explain it better). Kids need to know what things are called so they can communicate effectively and they need to know that their parents support this verbiage. As awful as it sounds, if your child is abused in some way, s/he needs to be able to express what happened and feel comfortable talking to you about those parts.
It becomes more complicated and uncomfortable when your child wants to talk about YOUR anatomy. I don't have an educated answer to that. But I do know that if you take a deep breath and explain things simply and logically, you'll probably get the point across without making it too big a deal. My explanation: "Asher and Daddy have penises. Mommy doesn't." This seemed to do the job. A friend just asked if Asher also knows about vaginas, and no, he does not, but my guess is that he will soon enough, given the kind of phone conversations I have from home when I'm on-call. I'm sure we'll take the same no-big-deal approach to that one.
The bottom line is that we all need to be comfortable talking about our bodies. It is uncomfortable for parents to talk about all of this stuff with their kids, but it is vitally important. It has nothing to do with sexuality--that comes later--but everything to do with being familiar with your own body and being able to care for it. Verbal communication is probably the most defining human characteristic, which means that we need to be able to talk about who we are physically.
Tonight Asher looked at me, both of us fully clad, and said, "Mommy, no penis." Yes, my little buddy, you speak the truth.
Since Asher has been potty trained, there has been a lot more naked time than before. Part of this is because we don't worry about accidents all the time, but most of this is because we are a bit lazy--we don't have to help him with his pants every time he gets the urge if the pants are already off. This leads to a lot of--ahem--self-exploration. It turns out that toddlers like to touch themselves, and since they don't have the social training we do when we are older, they do it a lot, right out in the open for all to see. As much as I understand the biologic reasons for all for all of this, it makes me undeniably uncomfortable.
Fast-foward to yesterday when I got home from work and sat down on the stairs to talk to Asher about his day. Immediately, he flipped up my skirt to look for my (non-existent) penis. This was a moment only slightly less embarrassing than the time my bikini top flew off on a waterslide when I was in high school (not sure who saw that, and, frankly, don't want to know, so if you were there, please keep the truth to yourself). What is a mommy to do?
Clearly, I am no expert on child-rearing, but my work has taught me one huge thing: teach your children the names for their parts. I saw a teenager the other day who had some concerns, and her pediatrician had told her that it was "just her fluff." I was totally perplexed as to what the issue might be (not to mention somewhat horrified that she couldn't explain it better). Kids need to know what things are called so they can communicate effectively and they need to know that their parents support this verbiage. As awful as it sounds, if your child is abused in some way, s/he needs to be able to express what happened and feel comfortable talking to you about those parts.
It becomes more complicated and uncomfortable when your child wants to talk about YOUR anatomy. I don't have an educated answer to that. But I do know that if you take a deep breath and explain things simply and logically, you'll probably get the point across without making it too big a deal. My explanation: "Asher and Daddy have penises. Mommy doesn't." This seemed to do the job. A friend just asked if Asher also knows about vaginas, and no, he does not, but my guess is that he will soon enough, given the kind of phone conversations I have from home when I'm on-call. I'm sure we'll take the same no-big-deal approach to that one.
The bottom line is that we all need to be comfortable talking about our bodies. It is uncomfortable for parents to talk about all of this stuff with their kids, but it is vitally important. It has nothing to do with sexuality--that comes later--but everything to do with being familiar with your own body and being able to care for it. Verbal communication is probably the most defining human characteristic, which means that we need to be able to talk about who we are physically.
Tonight Asher looked at me, both of us fully clad, and said, "Mommy, no penis." Yes, my little buddy, you speak the truth.
Monday, April 29, 2013
I Love Being a Working Mom...I Think
Recently I happened upon this article http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wendy-sue-swanson-md-mbe-faap/i-love-being-a-working-mom_b_3156152.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000003, and it got me thinking. I admire the author's dedication to her profession and her desire to make a change AND to instill that desire in her child. Yet, it really didn't hit home with me, and not just because I will never be flown to the Netherlands to do a TED talk or any other sort of public speaking. I feel like she missed the real-life, day-to-day reality of being a working mother and how awesome that can be. In fact, I think she missed the boat entirely. I think her viewpoint is definitely doctor-centric, and I don't think it speaks to women in other lines of work. Being a working mother, for me, has little to do with charging my child with social responsibility and is in no way connected to what I actually do for a living; it has everything to do with providing me with the balance that I need. I suppose my outlook could be considered selfish, but I believe raising a healthy child starts with being a healthy parent.
As working parents, we miss out on some things. Asher is one of two kids in his mommy-and-me class who attend with a nanny. Lately, he has been singing a color song to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star", unbeknownst to me. For days I thought he was just singing gibberish until Becca joined in the other afternoon. Mostly I feel gut-wrenchingly awful about this. It's hard enough knowing that your child spends most of his day with another person, but it's even worse when you have clear evidence that someone else understands your kid better than you do. On top of that, I worry about judgment from the stay-at-home parents in Asher's classes. I would love to meet his friends' moms, but I honestly worry about what they'll think of me, the absentee mother who lets a nanny do all the dirty work. The secret of working moms that a lot of stay-at-home moms don't know is that we see them as a higher order of mother in some ways--part of us wishes that we could do that ourselves, but the reality is that we know that we couldn't be kid-focused all day long--and we're pretty sure they look down on us.
On the other hand, I know that I am a better parent because I'm not parenting every minute of every day. At work, at least to a certain extent, the part of my brain that is fixated on scheduling and enforcing rules and, essentially, trying to create order out of chaos turns off. I can focus. I can think. I can have adult conversations. I get to learn about what's going on in the world around me. These are things that only happen at naptime when I'm home, and I notice that when I go too long without turning off the parenting part of my brain, the caring, loving, fun mommy part of my brain starts checking out. In order to be the emotionally connected parent I want to be, I need to not be a parent for a good part of the day. I need to have the freedom to connect to other parts of myself.
That said, there is a fine line between working enough to stay in touch with those parts of my brain and working too much. Earlier this year, my work schedule had changed so that I was working fewer days but those days were each unbearably busy. I came home exhausted and checked-out. It's a matter of finding a way to giving enough time to each part of me without any part taking over. When I notice one part dominating at the expense of the others, I know it's time to change things.
Being working parents certainly teaches our children a lot about the world and their role in it. I like to think that, by seeing his mommy work as a physician and his daddy run a web development company, Asher will learn the value of hard work and not take what we have for granted, that he will learn how to work ethically and treat people (clients, patients, colleagues) with respect, and that by seeing what we do professionally and how it evolves with time, his mind will be opened opportunities that aren't necessarily the 9-to-5 cubicle grind. More importantly, though, I expect that he will learn to take care of himself in a more holistic way. He will see the struggles we have to keep a balance between work and family and the mindfulness it takes to realize when balance is lost. He will also learn the importance of understanding and respecting his own needs. He will understand that in order to care for others, he first must care for himself.
These are all lessons it has taken me years to learn, and I constantly have re-examine myself and adjust things accordingly. The hardest and most important lesson is that no one can really "have it all" in the more traditional sense, and trying to do so just brings pain. You must identify what's important to you and what you need to be happy, and then you must work to make those things a reality. Then you will have it all, and so will your kids. It really doesn't matter one bit what your employment status is.
As working parents, we miss out on some things. Asher is one of two kids in his mommy-and-me class who attend with a nanny. Lately, he has been singing a color song to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star", unbeknownst to me. For days I thought he was just singing gibberish until Becca joined in the other afternoon. Mostly I feel gut-wrenchingly awful about this. It's hard enough knowing that your child spends most of his day with another person, but it's even worse when you have clear evidence that someone else understands your kid better than you do. On top of that, I worry about judgment from the stay-at-home parents in Asher's classes. I would love to meet his friends' moms, but I honestly worry about what they'll think of me, the absentee mother who lets a nanny do all the dirty work. The secret of working moms that a lot of stay-at-home moms don't know is that we see them as a higher order of mother in some ways--part of us wishes that we could do that ourselves, but the reality is that we know that we couldn't be kid-focused all day long--and we're pretty sure they look down on us.
On the other hand, I know that I am a better parent because I'm not parenting every minute of every day. At work, at least to a certain extent, the part of my brain that is fixated on scheduling and enforcing rules and, essentially, trying to create order out of chaos turns off. I can focus. I can think. I can have adult conversations. I get to learn about what's going on in the world around me. These are things that only happen at naptime when I'm home, and I notice that when I go too long without turning off the parenting part of my brain, the caring, loving, fun mommy part of my brain starts checking out. In order to be the emotionally connected parent I want to be, I need to not be a parent for a good part of the day. I need to have the freedom to connect to other parts of myself.
That said, there is a fine line between working enough to stay in touch with those parts of my brain and working too much. Earlier this year, my work schedule had changed so that I was working fewer days but those days were each unbearably busy. I came home exhausted and checked-out. It's a matter of finding a way to giving enough time to each part of me without any part taking over. When I notice one part dominating at the expense of the others, I know it's time to change things.
Being working parents certainly teaches our children a lot about the world and their role in it. I like to think that, by seeing his mommy work as a physician and his daddy run a web development company, Asher will learn the value of hard work and not take what we have for granted, that he will learn how to work ethically and treat people (clients, patients, colleagues) with respect, and that by seeing what we do professionally and how it evolves with time, his mind will be opened opportunities that aren't necessarily the 9-to-5 cubicle grind. More importantly, though, I expect that he will learn to take care of himself in a more holistic way. He will see the struggles we have to keep a balance between work and family and the mindfulness it takes to realize when balance is lost. He will also learn the importance of understanding and respecting his own needs. He will understand that in order to care for others, he first must care for himself.
These are all lessons it has taken me years to learn, and I constantly have re-examine myself and adjust things accordingly. The hardest and most important lesson is that no one can really "have it all" in the more traditional sense, and trying to do so just brings pain. You must identify what's important to you and what you need to be happy, and then you must work to make those things a reality. Then you will have it all, and so will your kids. It really doesn't matter one bit what your employment status is.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
The Perfect Day
Spring is always so busy for us, and this year has been no exception. Between trips across the country to visit family and birthday parties and holidays, it seems like there is something planned every weekend. Add to that me being on call every six weekends or so, and there just isn't much time left. I try to plan just one big thing every weekend so that we aren't totally frazzled. This weekend I made an exception, and I am really glad I did.
As I mentioned in my last post, we have all been crazy busy. Crockett has been stressed with work piling up, and he expressed a need for some time this weekend. We had plans on Saturday to spend the evening with some close friends to celebrate the impending arrival of a new baby boy, and normally this would mean an unscheduled Sunday. But because I knew Crockett needed quiet time, I decided that Asher and I would have the first "Mommy-Ashie Adventure Day" in a while and go to Gilroy Gardens, a toddler-oriented amusement park about an hour from our house. We had heard great things about it and had bought a season pass sight-unseen when they went on sale at Costco, so I was anxious to go. I had doubts this morning when Asher woke at 6:20 after a restless night, but I decided to throw caution to the wind, and at 9:30, we were off.
My grand plan involved a nap in the car on the way there, and that didn't happen until 5 minutes before we reached the parking lot, so I was pretty sure we were screwed. I was going to just wait it out, but it was 10:30 and sunny and getting rather hot, so I took a reckless course once again and decided that if Asher needed to sleep, he could do it in the stroller. Come Hell or high water, we were going to do this thing. Of course, he woke up immediately, and we were off. First stop, the carousel for rides on several different horses. Next, a ride on a swinging strawberry. All were enjoyed with an ear-to-ear smile throughout. Pizza lunch up next, and then the train, more rides, a run under the waterfall, a hot dog, another trip the carousel before we left. Smiles and laughs all around. The best day ever.
The funny thing is that if you dissect the day, you probably wouldn't understand how it was perfect in any way. I forgot to put a pull-up on Asher before we got in the car, and, for the first time in ages, he had an accident during his short nap on our way there. There were brooms and dustpans in every bathroom, which he always wanted to play with, and there was a small amount of screaming when I led him away every time. Lunch took half an hour to eat, most of which was spent spacing out and counting trash cans. He was trying to be so naughty while in line for the train, and yet, there was just enough going on to distract him into submission. I almost had a panic attack on the ferris wheel (not a fan of heights), and then Asher tried to take a nap on the seat as the attendant came to let us out of our cabin. The hot dog request came completely out of the blue, less than two hours after lunch, and was revealed on a whim as we were passing by a restaurant that does not serve hot dogs; I had to walk nearly the entire park to find the damn hot dog--there is only one restaurant that serves them--but we got it, and life was good. Last, but not least, on the final carousel ride, I was told to "LEAVE!!!" by this increasingly independent child (unfortunately for him, he isn't tall enough to ride alone). Such love. And then I had to fight a little to get off the carousel; he wanted to try a horse in every color. During the five minutes it took at the end of the day to convert our Costco voucher into a real season pass, the few remaining bits of hot dog went flying, a protest for taking away the fun. On our way out of the parking lot, a pitiful, exhausted utterance, "Back in....Back in...."
That's the most amazing part of living these experiences: there is nothing particularly wonderful about any of it, and yet it is all wonderful. There is some sort of magic chemistry that makes it perfect. How often do you spend eight hours with a two-year-old and not get frustrated? Almost never. This was one of those rare days.
But I know life is short and childhood even shorter. His yearning for independence is a blatant reminder. I feel a need to commemorate it all. I'm usually the one behind the camera, trying to preserve the memory. I tried to capture the moments, the smiles, the laughs. However, unlike most outings, on this one, I had no back-up, and my only camera was my phone. I became more aware of how I usually miss the full experience of the moment by trying to preserve it somehow. In the process of accepting my limitations, I became more whole. Contrary to what I expected at the start of the day, by not being able to record it audio-visually, our outing became better recorded emotionally. I was more there, and because of that, I will never forget it.
It was the perfect day with the perfect iPhone self-portrait to prove it.
As I mentioned in my last post, we have all been crazy busy. Crockett has been stressed with work piling up, and he expressed a need for some time this weekend. We had plans on Saturday to spend the evening with some close friends to celebrate the impending arrival of a new baby boy, and normally this would mean an unscheduled Sunday. But because I knew Crockett needed quiet time, I decided that Asher and I would have the first "Mommy-Ashie Adventure Day" in a while and go to Gilroy Gardens, a toddler-oriented amusement park about an hour from our house. We had heard great things about it and had bought a season pass sight-unseen when they went on sale at Costco, so I was anxious to go. I had doubts this morning when Asher woke at 6:20 after a restless night, but I decided to throw caution to the wind, and at 9:30, we were off.
My grand plan involved a nap in the car on the way there, and that didn't happen until 5 minutes before we reached the parking lot, so I was pretty sure we were screwed. I was going to just wait it out, but it was 10:30 and sunny and getting rather hot, so I took a reckless course once again and decided that if Asher needed to sleep, he could do it in the stroller. Come Hell or high water, we were going to do this thing. Of course, he woke up immediately, and we were off. First stop, the carousel for rides on several different horses. Next, a ride on a swinging strawberry. All were enjoyed with an ear-to-ear smile throughout. Pizza lunch up next, and then the train, more rides, a run under the waterfall, a hot dog, another trip the carousel before we left. Smiles and laughs all around. The best day ever.
The funny thing is that if you dissect the day, you probably wouldn't understand how it was perfect in any way. I forgot to put a pull-up on Asher before we got in the car, and, for the first time in ages, he had an accident during his short nap on our way there. There were brooms and dustpans in every bathroom, which he always wanted to play with, and there was a small amount of screaming when I led him away every time. Lunch took half an hour to eat, most of which was spent spacing out and counting trash cans. He was trying to be so naughty while in line for the train, and yet, there was just enough going on to distract him into submission. I almost had a panic attack on the ferris wheel (not a fan of heights), and then Asher tried to take a nap on the seat as the attendant came to let us out of our cabin. The hot dog request came completely out of the blue, less than two hours after lunch, and was revealed on a whim as we were passing by a restaurant that does not serve hot dogs; I had to walk nearly the entire park to find the damn hot dog--there is only one restaurant that serves them--but we got it, and life was good. Last, but not least, on the final carousel ride, I was told to "LEAVE!!!" by this increasingly independent child (unfortunately for him, he isn't tall enough to ride alone). Such love. And then I had to fight a little to get off the carousel; he wanted to try a horse in every color. During the five minutes it took at the end of the day to convert our Costco voucher into a real season pass, the few remaining bits of hot dog went flying, a protest for taking away the fun. On our way out of the parking lot, a pitiful, exhausted utterance, "Back in....Back in...."
That's the most amazing part of living these experiences: there is nothing particularly wonderful about any of it, and yet it is all wonderful. There is some sort of magic chemistry that makes it perfect. How often do you spend eight hours with a two-year-old and not get frustrated? Almost never. This was one of those rare days.
But I know life is short and childhood even shorter. His yearning for independence is a blatant reminder. I feel a need to commemorate it all. I'm usually the one behind the camera, trying to preserve the memory. I tried to capture the moments, the smiles, the laughs. However, unlike most outings, on this one, I had no back-up, and my only camera was my phone. I became more aware of how I usually miss the full experience of the moment by trying to preserve it somehow. In the process of accepting my limitations, I became more whole. Contrary to what I expected at the start of the day, by not being able to record it audio-visually, our outing became better recorded emotionally. I was more there, and because of that, I will never forget it.
It was the perfect day with the perfect iPhone self-portrait to prove it.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
24+ Hours of Mommy Fails
The last 24 hours have been tough around our house. I am exhausted after two nearly-sleepless nights in a week. Asher has been discombobulated by my absence and more baby-sitter time than usual, and he has been busy all week with activities. Crockett is stressed about a lot of exciting but work-intensive projects. It should come as no surprise that this all takes a toll at some point.
It all became apparent last night. Asher and I took a shower, and while I was straightening up afterward, I let him run around naked for a while. As I came out of my room, I saw him proudly peeing on the hall carpet saying, "Clean up! Spray soap!" Ugh--the downside of having a kid who loves to clean and is obsessed with spray bottles. Needless to say, he did not fish his wish. Instead, we soaked up what we could with a towel, and then I declared an early bed time. I stuck to my guns with the usual three stories in the chair, one story on the potty, and then to bed. I thought I was so smart. On the webcam, I could watch him rolling around, sipping on his water bottle and getting settled in bed. I was sure he'd be asleep any minute. Then 20 minutes later, shrieking. Eventually, I went in, rubbed his back and reminded him that it was time to sleep, and when he seemed nice and calm, I left. Another few minutes of silence, and then more shrieking. Finally, about an hour after we had first said goodnight, I caved. I got him out of the crib, sat back down in the chair, and held him until he fell asleep, something I hadn't done in ages.
This morning he woke up about 20 minutes earlier than usual, and he was cranky. We made it through the first part of the morning without too much trouble, and at 8:00, I handed a seemingly happy kid off to the nanny before I headed off to an appointment. A couple of hours later, I had planned to meet them at the children's museum, where they had a playdate scheduled with one of Asher's friends and her nanny. There was a large school group on a fieldtrip there, so the nannies decided they would rather go elsewhere. I wanted to squeeze a workout in before heading to the office for an afternoon full of appointments, so I took Asher back to the car and said goodbye. Apparently, I underestimated the effect my brief appearance would have. By the time he got home, he was tired and frustrated and upset that I hadn't been there. Oops.
I eventually had to head to work, again leaving behind a seemingly contented kid. Little did I know that a volcano was about to erupt. Nanny leaves around 4:00. At 4:20, I got several calls to my cell phone, which I could hear from the exam room where I was talking with a patient. Finally I decided something must be wrong, so I went out an answered. Crockett wanted to know where I was, forgetting that I had to work that afternoon even though Thursday is usually my day off. Asher was a mess, crying and fussy and inconsolable. Apparently he had been like that for a while.
When I finally got home, Daddy and Asher were both exhausted and vegging out in front of some A-B-C youtube videos. We had dinner and planned an early bedtime for the little guy. Normal bedtime routine, and again, the shrieking. Again, Mommy held Ashie until he fell asleep. Goodbye, sleep training.
Weeks like this, lots of thoughts, mostly self-critical ones, enter my mind, ranging from doubt about my understanding of my own child and wondering if stay-at-home moms have a better sense of what to do to frustration with myself for not sticking to the cry-it-out method of sleep training that we've used for months and concern that I've ruined his ability to self-soothe permanently with the last two nights. This time, I even wondered if my assumption that we have successfully potty-trained him--something I have been so sure and proud of--was premature. I wish I could see the glass as half full: my child loves me; he misses me when I'm gone; despite having a working mother, he has secure attachment. While it's normal for a mother to worry about her child, and I suppose it's healthy to examine your parenting behaviors, I think it's sad that we hold ourselves to an imaginary standard of perfection. We all struggle. We all have bad days. We all have moments when we misinterpret our children's needs. We all cave from time to time. But few of us are willing to admit it. The good news is that our kids are resilient, and so are we.
Besides, it feels damn good to snuggle up together in that big chair.
It all became apparent last night. Asher and I took a shower, and while I was straightening up afterward, I let him run around naked for a while. As I came out of my room, I saw him proudly peeing on the hall carpet saying, "Clean up! Spray soap!" Ugh--the downside of having a kid who loves to clean and is obsessed with spray bottles. Needless to say, he did not fish his wish. Instead, we soaked up what we could with a towel, and then I declared an early bed time. I stuck to my guns with the usual three stories in the chair, one story on the potty, and then to bed. I thought I was so smart. On the webcam, I could watch him rolling around, sipping on his water bottle and getting settled in bed. I was sure he'd be asleep any minute. Then 20 minutes later, shrieking. Eventually, I went in, rubbed his back and reminded him that it was time to sleep, and when he seemed nice and calm, I left. Another few minutes of silence, and then more shrieking. Finally, about an hour after we had first said goodnight, I caved. I got him out of the crib, sat back down in the chair, and held him until he fell asleep, something I hadn't done in ages.
This morning he woke up about 20 minutes earlier than usual, and he was cranky. We made it through the first part of the morning without too much trouble, and at 8:00, I handed a seemingly happy kid off to the nanny before I headed off to an appointment. A couple of hours later, I had planned to meet them at the children's museum, where they had a playdate scheduled with one of Asher's friends and her nanny. There was a large school group on a fieldtrip there, so the nannies decided they would rather go elsewhere. I wanted to squeeze a workout in before heading to the office for an afternoon full of appointments, so I took Asher back to the car and said goodbye. Apparently, I underestimated the effect my brief appearance would have. By the time he got home, he was tired and frustrated and upset that I hadn't been there. Oops.
I eventually had to head to work, again leaving behind a seemingly contented kid. Little did I know that a volcano was about to erupt. Nanny leaves around 4:00. At 4:20, I got several calls to my cell phone, which I could hear from the exam room where I was talking with a patient. Finally I decided something must be wrong, so I went out an answered. Crockett wanted to know where I was, forgetting that I had to work that afternoon even though Thursday is usually my day off. Asher was a mess, crying and fussy and inconsolable. Apparently he had been like that for a while.
When I finally got home, Daddy and Asher were both exhausted and vegging out in front of some A-B-C youtube videos. We had dinner and planned an early bedtime for the little guy. Normal bedtime routine, and again, the shrieking. Again, Mommy held Ashie until he fell asleep. Goodbye, sleep training.
Weeks like this, lots of thoughts, mostly self-critical ones, enter my mind, ranging from doubt about my understanding of my own child and wondering if stay-at-home moms have a better sense of what to do to frustration with myself for not sticking to the cry-it-out method of sleep training that we've used for months and concern that I've ruined his ability to self-soothe permanently with the last two nights. This time, I even wondered if my assumption that we have successfully potty-trained him--something I have been so sure and proud of--was premature. I wish I could see the glass as half full: my child loves me; he misses me when I'm gone; despite having a working mother, he has secure attachment. While it's normal for a mother to worry about her child, and I suppose it's healthy to examine your parenting behaviors, I think it's sad that we hold ourselves to an imaginary standard of perfection. We all struggle. We all have bad days. We all have moments when we misinterpret our children's needs. We all cave from time to time. But few of us are willing to admit it. The good news is that our kids are resilient, and so are we.
Besides, it feels damn good to snuggle up together in that big chair.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
The Toddler Ten
You've heard about the "Freshman Fifteen," that weight gain young women often undergo when they leave for college due to an over-consumption pizza and beer, right? I'm coining a new term: the Toddler Ten. For a lot of women with young children, weight is a big issue, and I am convinced that in most cases, the kid is to blame. I am living proof. No, I don't want anyone to give their two-year-old a hard time about this. What I mean is that a lot of aspects of having a little kid in your life that not only make it more difficult to lose weight but also probably contribute to weight gain. Until you identify how these factors play into your lifestyle, you will never be able to make the changes necessary to stop gaining weight and, hopefully, start losing.
I know that most of you who know me in person are rolling your eyes and groaning right now. True, as an adult, I have always been thin and haven't had to think much about my weight. Even trying to gain weight during pregnancy, I only managed to pack on 15 pounds. Yet, I realized something was wrong when I looked at some pictures of myself about eight months ago. To my horror, I discovered that I still looked pregnant. The scale said the same thing. Though I was down to my pre-pregnancy weight about six months after delivery, I didn't stay there. What was happening?
Pondering the changes in my lifestyle and eating habits, I realized that it was all the little man's fault. Here's why and how I changed things for the better:
1. Lack of time for exercise. Especially for those of us who work, there is little flexibility in our schedules to carve out time to exercise. I used to be able to get up super early in the morning to get my workout in, but when you're waking up at night to care for a baby or toddler, any extra sleep you can squeeze in is important. For those who don't work, unless you can do everything--exercise, clean, cook, etc.--during naptime, you need a sitter for you to get some exercise, and most don't have that luxury. Joining a gym with childcare might be an option, but with all the kid expenses, that might not be in the budget either. Things get even harder as your baby become a toddler and cuts back from two naps to one (and on bad days, none). And not to burst anyone's bubble, as tiring as it can be, chasing a toddler around the house does not count as exercise from a fitness or weight loss standpoint.
I had grand plans before I delivered. Somehow I was under the delusion that I would have a kid who would love to ride in the jogging stroller while I ran every day. I think the folks at my office suffered from the same delusion because they gave me a BOB stroller at my shower. As it turns out, I actually fear running with my antsy kid because I'm pretty sure he will lose his mind two miles away from the car, and I'll have to find some way to get us both back there without losing my mind as well. I needed an alternative.
The reality is that your child needs you to be healthy to care for him, so you need to find a way to take care of yourself. In my case, solo runs are great, but only if I don't have to spend a lot of time driving to my starting point. Unfortunately, my house is at the top of a big hill, and my legs simply can't tolerate running that hill day in and day out, so the hubby and I started looking into home exercise programs. "Insanity" was as hard as the name implies, but I could do it at home without any special equipment, so I could do it easily during kiddo's naps. Recently, I also rearranged my office schedule so that I have time at lunch to squeeze in a run on the flat land near my office at a time when I already have childcare. Hubby does the same thing. On the weekends, we each take shifts so that the other can exercise or do whatever else is important at the moment. We might not get out as much as some families whose weekends are packed with activites, but we're healthier for it.
2. Toddler snacks. Little kids like to eat a lot of starchy, fatty, sugary foods. So do adults. The difference is that kids actually need fat and calories in these foods; you and I do not. If your pantry is full of cheese crackers, fruit snacks, and worse, it's natural to be tempted by these things. The easiest way to avoid this stuff not to buy it in the first place. Your child can still have plenty of tasty, easy snacks. Try cheese, fruit, toast with peanut butter, cereal with milk. There are a lot of ways to provide good snacks without tempting yourself. My kid eats hummus with a spoon. He loves my healthy creamed spinach. Toddlers aren't biased the way we are. They are naturally drawn to a lot of foods that we dub "health foods" as adults. Let your kid eat health food (just don't limit his fat and natural sugar intake). Get the junk out of the pantry. If your child is older and protests when the chips and cookies disappear, be strong; you are the adult and get to call the shots. Remember that teaching your children to appreciate healthy food is helping them make better choices later in life. If you show them that eating well is important, they will carry on your legacy.
3. Dinner time. Many studies show that families who share meals produce healthier, happier kids in the long run. From an adult diet standpoint, eating as a family is easy when babies are eating purees; once they can handle table food, it's a whole new ballgame. I found myself trying to find meals that my boy would/could eat (his teeth have been slow to come in and at nearly two, he is just starting to get his canines and still needs a set of molars), and they all revolved around a starch--mac and cheese, spaghetti, fried rice. I'm not anti-starch, but it's hard to get really full on a meal of mac and cheese without eating way more calories than you actually need. I started thinking about things a new way: prepare and serve what the adults eat and let the kid learn to eat that way too. Now we have a more balanced meal. Lots of veggies and protein in addition to the starches. I try to make sure that all of our meals have some component that he will eat, but I don't make the meal revolve around his preferred diet.
[Note: studies show that it can take at least 20 tries for a child to willingly eat a new food, so if your kid protests at first, try again!]
4. The tempting tray. We ALL start snacking off our kids' plates at some point. I'm not sure why this is. We probably serve bigger portions than a child can eat and don't want to see so much waste. We are also serving our kids foods with more starch, sugar, and fat than we generally allow ourselves, so there is a huge temptation to eat the leftovers. I have never seen a parent who doesn't do it, though some patients deny it. If you want to get rid of those extra pounds, stop eating your kid's food, or at least factor that into your own daily intake. This is especially important if you don't eat your meals together. Because I know I'll probably finish my son's dinner for him, I serve myself a lot less than I used to, and as absurd as it sounds, there are times that I literally talk myself out of "tasting" what's left on the tray.
5. Starving yourself. If you aren't eating throughout the day, your child's food is going to look especially tempting. You'll eat fewer calories and more healthfully if you keep up with your meals and snacks. When I'm at home, I feed myself when I feed Asher. At work, I stick to the same schedule. This reduces the chance that I will overeat because I'm not starving when I am around food. Also, your internal clock knows when it is used to eating and will tell you your hungry at certain times of the day, even if you've just had a high calorie meal. I know a lot of people who will eat a big breakfast on the weekend and say they'll skip lunch. Not sure how well that works for them, but I personally am always hungry when lunchtime rolls around. If you're anything like me, it helps to keep your meal and snack times relatively consistent.
6. Not doing unto yourself.... We all take better care of our families than we do of ourselves. How many moms spend a good chunk of time each week packing lunches for their kids but rely on a run to the closest fast food joint for their own lunch? I always make sure we have plenty of cut up veggies and fruits for the little guy to snack on when I'm away. One day I caught myself thinking that I should bring a snack to work but not wanting to take "Asher's food." Weird, right? It occurred to me a second later that I was spending a lot of time on food prep every week but didn't personally benefit from all that work. Increasing the number of peppers and cucumbers I cut up each week took minimal effort, but now there was plenty for the whole family to enjoy. Now Asher has veggies for his snacks, and we have veggies to throw into salads to take for lunch.
7. Stress with a capital S. Moms and dads are stressed people. We have a lot more responsibility and worries than childless people. Stress contributes to weight gain. Whether it's because of hormonal changes triggered by stress or simply the over-eating for comfort that stress promotes, I'm not sure--I'm guessing the latter because despite a lot of stress in college and med school, I was always under-weight due to not eating as a coping mechanism. Either way, a lot of people gain when stressed, so if only from a weight perspective, it is important to find an outlet. Exercise is a great one, but if that doesn't do it for you, try meditation, journaling, baking...whatever gives you a moment to breathe.
I'm not saying that any of this is easy--it is serious work--but before you start calorie counting, think about where those calories come from and the barriers that are preventing you from burning them off. Consider the little changes you can make to your current routine that might make a big difference. Do this before you try the newest fad diet or ask your doctor for a weight-loss pill. Your children will learn from you and will be healthier and happier people for a lifetime, and so will you.
I know that most of you who know me in person are rolling your eyes and groaning right now. True, as an adult, I have always been thin and haven't had to think much about my weight. Even trying to gain weight during pregnancy, I only managed to pack on 15 pounds. Yet, I realized something was wrong when I looked at some pictures of myself about eight months ago. To my horror, I discovered that I still looked pregnant. The scale said the same thing. Though I was down to my pre-pregnancy weight about six months after delivery, I didn't stay there. What was happening?
Pondering the changes in my lifestyle and eating habits, I realized that it was all the little man's fault. Here's why and how I changed things for the better:
1. Lack of time for exercise. Especially for those of us who work, there is little flexibility in our schedules to carve out time to exercise. I used to be able to get up super early in the morning to get my workout in, but when you're waking up at night to care for a baby or toddler, any extra sleep you can squeeze in is important. For those who don't work, unless you can do everything--exercise, clean, cook, etc.--during naptime, you need a sitter for you to get some exercise, and most don't have that luxury. Joining a gym with childcare might be an option, but with all the kid expenses, that might not be in the budget either. Things get even harder as your baby become a toddler and cuts back from two naps to one (and on bad days, none). And not to burst anyone's bubble, as tiring as it can be, chasing a toddler around the house does not count as exercise from a fitness or weight loss standpoint.
I had grand plans before I delivered. Somehow I was under the delusion that I would have a kid who would love to ride in the jogging stroller while I ran every day. I think the folks at my office suffered from the same delusion because they gave me a BOB stroller at my shower. As it turns out, I actually fear running with my antsy kid because I'm pretty sure he will lose his mind two miles away from the car, and I'll have to find some way to get us both back there without losing my mind as well. I needed an alternative.
The reality is that your child needs you to be healthy to care for him, so you need to find a way to take care of yourself. In my case, solo runs are great, but only if I don't have to spend a lot of time driving to my starting point. Unfortunately, my house is at the top of a big hill, and my legs simply can't tolerate running that hill day in and day out, so the hubby and I started looking into home exercise programs. "Insanity" was as hard as the name implies, but I could do it at home without any special equipment, so I could do it easily during kiddo's naps. Recently, I also rearranged my office schedule so that I have time at lunch to squeeze in a run on the flat land near my office at a time when I already have childcare. Hubby does the same thing. On the weekends, we each take shifts so that the other can exercise or do whatever else is important at the moment. We might not get out as much as some families whose weekends are packed with activites, but we're healthier for it.
2. Toddler snacks. Little kids like to eat a lot of starchy, fatty, sugary foods. So do adults. The difference is that kids actually need fat and calories in these foods; you and I do not. If your pantry is full of cheese crackers, fruit snacks, and worse, it's natural to be tempted by these things. The easiest way to avoid this stuff not to buy it in the first place. Your child can still have plenty of tasty, easy snacks. Try cheese, fruit, toast with peanut butter, cereal with milk. There are a lot of ways to provide good snacks without tempting yourself. My kid eats hummus with a spoon. He loves my healthy creamed spinach. Toddlers aren't biased the way we are. They are naturally drawn to a lot of foods that we dub "health foods" as adults. Let your kid eat health food (just don't limit his fat and natural sugar intake). Get the junk out of the pantry. If your child is older and protests when the chips and cookies disappear, be strong; you are the adult and get to call the shots. Remember that teaching your children to appreciate healthy food is helping them make better choices later in life. If you show them that eating well is important, they will carry on your legacy.
3. Dinner time. Many studies show that families who share meals produce healthier, happier kids in the long run. From an adult diet standpoint, eating as a family is easy when babies are eating purees; once they can handle table food, it's a whole new ballgame. I found myself trying to find meals that my boy would/could eat (his teeth have been slow to come in and at nearly two, he is just starting to get his canines and still needs a set of molars), and they all revolved around a starch--mac and cheese, spaghetti, fried rice. I'm not anti-starch, but it's hard to get really full on a meal of mac and cheese without eating way more calories than you actually need. I started thinking about things a new way: prepare and serve what the adults eat and let the kid learn to eat that way too. Now we have a more balanced meal. Lots of veggies and protein in addition to the starches. I try to make sure that all of our meals have some component that he will eat, but I don't make the meal revolve around his preferred diet.
[Note: studies show that it can take at least 20 tries for a child to willingly eat a new food, so if your kid protests at first, try again!]
4. The tempting tray. We ALL start snacking off our kids' plates at some point. I'm not sure why this is. We probably serve bigger portions than a child can eat and don't want to see so much waste. We are also serving our kids foods with more starch, sugar, and fat than we generally allow ourselves, so there is a huge temptation to eat the leftovers. I have never seen a parent who doesn't do it, though some patients deny it. If you want to get rid of those extra pounds, stop eating your kid's food, or at least factor that into your own daily intake. This is especially important if you don't eat your meals together. Because I know I'll probably finish my son's dinner for him, I serve myself a lot less than I used to, and as absurd as it sounds, there are times that I literally talk myself out of "tasting" what's left on the tray.
5. Starving yourself. If you aren't eating throughout the day, your child's food is going to look especially tempting. You'll eat fewer calories and more healthfully if you keep up with your meals and snacks. When I'm at home, I feed myself when I feed Asher. At work, I stick to the same schedule. This reduces the chance that I will overeat because I'm not starving when I am around food. Also, your internal clock knows when it is used to eating and will tell you your hungry at certain times of the day, even if you've just had a high calorie meal. I know a lot of people who will eat a big breakfast on the weekend and say they'll skip lunch. Not sure how well that works for them, but I personally am always hungry when lunchtime rolls around. If you're anything like me, it helps to keep your meal and snack times relatively consistent.
6. Not doing unto yourself.... We all take better care of our families than we do of ourselves. How many moms spend a good chunk of time each week packing lunches for their kids but rely on a run to the closest fast food joint for their own lunch? I always make sure we have plenty of cut up veggies and fruits for the little guy to snack on when I'm away. One day I caught myself thinking that I should bring a snack to work but not wanting to take "Asher's food." Weird, right? It occurred to me a second later that I was spending a lot of time on food prep every week but didn't personally benefit from all that work. Increasing the number of peppers and cucumbers I cut up each week took minimal effort, but now there was plenty for the whole family to enjoy. Now Asher has veggies for his snacks, and we have veggies to throw into salads to take for lunch.
7. Stress with a capital S. Moms and dads are stressed people. We have a lot more responsibility and worries than childless people. Stress contributes to weight gain. Whether it's because of hormonal changes triggered by stress or simply the over-eating for comfort that stress promotes, I'm not sure--I'm guessing the latter because despite a lot of stress in college and med school, I was always under-weight due to not eating as a coping mechanism. Either way, a lot of people gain when stressed, so if only from a weight perspective, it is important to find an outlet. Exercise is a great one, but if that doesn't do it for you, try meditation, journaling, baking...whatever gives you a moment to breathe.
I'm not saying that any of this is easy--it is serious work--but before you start calorie counting, think about where those calories come from and the barriers that are preventing you from burning them off. Consider the little changes you can make to your current routine that might make a big difference. Do this before you try the newest fad diet or ask your doctor for a weight-loss pill. Your children will learn from you and will be healthier and happier people for a lifetime, and so will you.
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