(I had planned to publish this post over the Independence Day weekend; however, the lure of holiday overcame me, and, well . . . now it's a little late.)
At the end of June, the four of us traveled to north Texas for a regional meeting of the investment firm Kyle works for. Just an hour after we checked into the hotel, Kyle and I had to attend a meeting. The firm had hired a child care agency to be on-site providing care for the children of advisors and spouses attending the meeting.
After I checked the girls in with the care givers, I took each to their "classrooms." And both of them barely turned around to say "bye!" before racing in to the rooms filled with care givers, activities, and music. I felt a little sad (perhaps un-needed might be a better description), but I felt some other things, too - namely affirmation, confirmation, and just a smidge of vindication.
I write often about the fact that as a brand new mother, I fell under the sway of our culture's wrong thinking, the thinking that proclaims that holding newborns too much makes for spoiled, fussy, utterly dependent babies and children. The books I had read emphasized time and again the importance of moving baby towards detatchment, towards self-soothing, and towards independence.
In the opening chapter of The Baby Book, Dr. William Sears addresses this matter:
The spoiling theory began in the 1920s when experts invaded the realm of child rearing. They scoffed at parental intuition and advocated restraint and detachment. They felt that hold a baby a lot, feeding on cue, and responding to cries would create a clingy, dependent child. There was no scientific basis for this spoiling theory, just unwarranted fears and opinions. (emphasis mine)
It's funny but also sad that a theory that grew into popularity at a time in our culture when women had only recently (and begrudgingly) been given women the right to vote is still so prevalent today. Though more and more mainstream parenting advice is moving towards promoting attachment, you still hear on message boards, Facebook comment discussions, and blog comboxes the voices of the past warning new mamas to be very careful not to create overly-dependent babies by holding, wearing, and sharing sleep with their wee ones.
What science has found and confirmed through the years is that infants who form secure attachments in the first years of life are the ones who grow into more secure, more confident, and - yep! - more independent children and adults.
Exactly two years ago today, I wrote about the joy of watching my once incredibly high-needs baby grow into a beautiful picture of security, confidence, and independence. No one was more surprised than I was that she took so enthusiastically to all-day Pre-K last school year. I continue to be encouraged by and proud of the person she is becoming, though it is a bittersweet feeling, indeed. It's quite a bit more painful to watch Aliza Joy - my baby - race through toddlerhood and on towards three, every day becoming more and more The Big Girl.
Why do I write about this so often? It's all part of the redemption package, my need to keep planting seeds of encouragement, to keep tending to a growing movement of mothers embracing gentle, intuitive parenting, and to keep reminding myself that the days of cling-on little ones are quickly dwindling and that these thoroughly attached children of mine are steadily, perpetually, healthily, and unstoppably moving ever forward into wholeness, entirely independent of me.
Can you envision anything bringing you back to Texas? Please? Soon? ♥
A few nights ago, I dreamt we were moving back to San Marcos. I woke up ensconced in warmth and dreamy joy. When I became fully aware that it was just a dream, I cried. For real. I miss Texas so much. A year ago today, I wrote a little list of all the things I miss about it.
Can I see us moving back there? Kyle and I plan to retire somewhere in the Valley. Prior to that? Only if God's tender mercy and sovereign will allows for it. My growing up years were spent here in Oklahoma, but The Republic will probably always feel like home to me.
sniff sniff Moving on . . .
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Now, let's see, Amanda (different Amanda from above), Sheila, Stephanie, and Lisa all wanted to know about our plans for more children.
I mentioned in the NFP post that we are currently avoiding trying to get pregnant.
Will we ever have another?
Oh, this question is so complicated for me. Let me attempt to break it down:
On the one hand, I always dreamed I would have at least three kids. On the other hand, I never dreamed I would have had two Cesarean births.
The possibility of being able to try for a VBA2C in Oklahoma looks pretty slim. C-sections are major surgeries with inherent risk. Honestly? I am scared to have another one.
I would guess, at some point, we'll try for at least one more.
I do need a gracious, loving scripted response to the "are you going to try for a boy?" question. I don't mind a bit when people ask if we are going to have more kids. But what am I supposed to do with the gender question here? It's not like we get to choose.
(Oh, you can have your Shettles Method. We tried that with AJ and she is evidence of God's jovial response to our attempt to control the matter.)
I could really spin out on this, but my friend Robin at Not Ever Still Life already voiced her opinion on the question, so I'll defer to her passionate and eloquent response. (Robin is, by the way, currently babymooning with her itty-bitty brand new little boy.)
Annnnnnnnnnnnd, moving on.
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My sweet, sweet friend Corey asked: What is something you do JUST FOR YOURSELF? Something that puts YOU first?
For about five years, the thing that I have done that is just for myself is this: Enforce an early bedtime for our children.
Now, I know, I know. Some of you may think that we AP-ers just let our kids run all over the place until all hours of the night when they crash out on the floor. I can't tell you what other families do, but that is not what we do.
I read a lot - a lot - of material on sleep back in The Dark Days. One positive and healthy thing I came away with is how early bedtimes are good for babies and little ones. My babies were usually in bed for the night by 6:30 or 7:00. Dacey is now five and AJ is two and a half and we still have a fairly strict lights-out by 8:00 rule. They usually talk, play, and sing for awhile (sometimes an hour longer) in their beds, but they are in their beds by 8:00.
So maybe this isn't just for me. I believe it is good for them. But it's really, REALLY good for me.
Those hours from eight o'clock until I crash out on the floor (kidding) are my Off-Duty time. I read, watch TV, return telephone calls, play on the computer, watch movies with Kyle . . . whatever I feel like doing. I guard my evening downtime fiercely, and if I don't get it, I get very cranky. It's the best possible thing I can do for myself in this season of life. It's (almost) just for me.
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That's it for today! More tomorrow. (Meanwhile, The 40 Days of Joy continue at Megspots. Days 12 and 13 can be seen there.)