Parenting 101

In a few weeks, Wes will turn one year old.  Or maybe I should think of it as 365 days old.  One year doesn’t always seem like a “long time.”  One year of teaching can pass in an instant when you’re working with people you enjoy.  365 days of your worst students ever (shoutout to 1^st hour Biology of 2009!) can seem like an eternity.  The time since Wes’ birth has felt like both.

One year ago Sean and I were likely the most ill-prepared parents in Normal.  And I mean that quite literally.  When we were taking our “Baby Basics” class prior to Wes’ birth, all participants were asked to rate themselves on a scale of 0 (clueless) to 10 (expert) on how well they were able to care for an infant.  Sean and I were the first to answer.  I gave myself a 2.  I had no younger siblings, zero cousins, nieces, or nephews, and I had never babysat.  I had, however, held a baby once (okay, I exaggerate…twice) and had read the first one-hundred books of The Babysitters Club series when I was in grade school.  That had to earn me some points, right?  Sean, the honest man that he is, gave himself a 1.  He (mostly) does a good job of keeping fish alive.  We were eager to hear how our classmates were going to rate themselves.  The next couple gave themselves an 8 and 7.  Next we heard 7 and 9.  No one gave themselves a score lower than 5!  We were in trouble.

A year (or perhaps 365 days) has since past, and we have managed to keep our son fed, clean, and relatively safe.   We mastered the baby basics pretty quickly.  Both Sean and I can change a diaper with one hand while simultaneously keeping the diaper cream tube out of Wes’ mouth with the other.  We are both experts at swaddling, mixing formula, and sensing the perfect bathwater temperature.   The real lessons, however, are the ones that our parents patiently waited for us to learn while they silently chuckled alongside karma.  What follows is a compilation of the five biggest lessons of my life.

1.  Some things can wait…indefinitely.

Anyone who knows me accepts that I can be a bit Type A.  I appreciate a good schedule, thrive on well-organized closets, and find spontaneity to be nauseating.  Before Wes, I worked hard, fast, and I got stuff done.  My kitchen was stocked, my car was clean, and our yard was neat.  To wind down after dinner, I would sometimes go out and pick blades of grass growing in our mulch. Let’s fast-forward.  Currently, there is a weed that is nearly as tall as me growing in our backyard.  Or maybe it’s taller than me now…our windows are too dirty to see it clearly.  I won’t pretend that I don’t care about that stuff anymore, because I do.  However, I am realizing that there are things infinitely more important than that; I’d rather spend time after dinner leading a parade of toys down the hallway while Wes delightfully squeals and toddles behind in his walker. And one day, I might even forget to arrange those toys neatly on the shelf after Wes goes to bed.

2.  Sometimes there isn’t a right (or wrong) answer.

This year I realized why I really enjoy teaching physics.  There is a formula for every problem, and there is always a correct answer.  You know when you are right, and if you are wrong, you can rework a problem until you’re not.  I went into parenting with the same mindset.  I read too many parenting books, all with a formulated answer to any baby problem imaginable.  Before I even met Wes, I was prepared to systematically solve any sleep problems we encountered, and I knew for sure that I could care for him so that he wouldn’t be colicky.  Okay veteran parents, you can stop laughing now.  Clearly babies don’t follow a formula.  There is no right way to parent; if there was, wouldn’t there just be one book to read?  What was hardest for me to learn, however, is that there isn’t necessarily a wrong answer either.  For example, most people follow some sort of cry-it-out method to teach their baby to fall asleep.  Most every parenting book condones this practice, nearly all of our friends have used it, and our pediatrician recommends it.  So every time I would rock Wes to sleep, I felt more and more guilty that I was parenting incorrectly. Even though I love him falling asleep in my arms, shouldn’t I be doing this the right way, the recommended way?  One year later, I’m still rocking him.  He’s happy with it, and I’m happy with it.  And I believe that is my correct answer.

3.  McDonalds can be a sanctuary.

Our entrance into parenthood wasn’t exactly normal.  After bed rest for two weeks followed by a week in the hospital, we found ourselves at home caring for a preemie baby with a staph infection.  Needless to say, we didn’t get out much for the first few months.  We were left feeling pretty removed from society, and also questioning if this was simply how life existed after a baby. Now that Wes is old enough to sit in a high-chair, we often find ourselves at McDonalds.  We enjoy the cheap meal and Wes enjoys people watching.  Most importantly, however, we enjoy watching other families doing the same.  Nothing makes you feel more normal than watching another mom and dad picking up Cheerios from the floor and hurriedly leaving the restaurant when baby gets fussy.  Some people might sneer at the toxicity of McDonalds food; I’d argue that the isolation that is so easy for new parents to create is far more toxic than my predictably shaped chicken nuggets.

4.  No one can tell you how you’ll feel.

New parents are recipients of all sorts of unsolicited advice.  I was told on a golf course that the Baby Wise method was the only way to raise a good child (see number 2).  A cashier informed me that if I wanted my baby to sleep through the night, I should just put him to sleep on his tummy from the beginning (not followed, by the way).  I like to think of myself as an eager learner.  In reality, I’m gullible.  I tend to believe what I hear about parenting, and if it does not match Wes’ current developmental activity or my emotional state, then I question my own parenting.   But I’m learning that just because I may not feel the same way as the parent in the magazine, I’m not in the running for the worst parent in the world.  I once read a blurb about a mother who simply couldn’t wait for her baby to wake up from his naps because she loved feeling needed by her child.  In my world, the first thought that comes to mind when Wes wakes up from a nap is usually “damn.”  (For the record, I like to think this is because he is the champion of the 30 minute nap; I would like him to nap longer for his own well-being.  Really.)  Conversely, it seems like every person I met sent out a foreboding warning about baby mobility.  “Oh, he’s almost crawling?  I’m so sorry.”  To be quite honest, I love Wes’ mobility!  He is much less frustrated and is so eager to discover new things (including electrical sockets and dog bowls).  Mobility brings its own set of challenges, but it certainly has not been the doomsday that was predicted.  Instead of worrying about how I’m going to fit each new piece of advice into my own parenting style, now I usually just stare blankly at the advice-givers as I daydream about how much cuter Wes is than their babies anyway.

5.   It takes a village…

For millions of years, our ancestors lived in troops, clans, communities, etc.  So it makes a lot of sense to me that it is innate to want, if not need, a whole lot of people to help raise a child.  Sean and I have been so lucky to have a group of wonderful people to help raise Wes.  Grandparents can be found down the street or just 60 minutes down the highway.  We have an amazing group of neighbors who are always around for play dates, celebration, and empathy.  Sometimes I feel like I am not independent enough with Wes; shouldn’t I be able to go get groceries, gas up the car, and get the laundry folded without any extra help?  But why should I? I don’t always understand why Americans stress independence so much.  There is no need to prove to anyone that we can do this by ourselves.  I absolutely believe that the more people there are to love Wes, the better off he’ll be.  And based on how many different sets of arms hold him in one day, I think he’s going to do great.

We have witnessed Wes grow from a tiny preemie into quite the healthy guy (we have learned that is the polite phrase for “fat baby”).  We ourselves have also experienced tremendous growth this past year which has forever changed who we are.  We know there are many, many more lessons to learn, and we can’t even be sure that we really understand everything we have learned so far.  But we are pretty certain that not only can we successfully keep another organism alive, but we also might be doing a darn good job at helping it thrive. We believe our weeds would agree.