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Parenting for the Skeptical Woman:What I Didn’t Know About Newborns

The baby cycle in my life is starting up again. Not for me but I seem to know many women who are expecting a baby or preparing to take the step to having a baby.  Thinking about this process reminds me of how much I learned, how much I didn’t know, and how much I will never know.

No matter how difficult it may seem to have a newborn, enjoy it. That little pooping, swaddled bundle may seem demanding now but wait until he or she can move. For me, I started worrying what it would be like to have Scarlett home while I was getting her dressed for the first time. After two days of having a baby nurse to dress her and bath her, one hour before leaving the hospital,  I have to dress a newborn for the first time ever.

The first thing I didn’t know, babies have no control over their arms and legs. I knew that swaddling helped them feel more secure and womb-like but I had no idea how much they wiggled and jerked. So on top of the bobble head, no neck control, watch the head pressure their arms and legs move uncontrollably.

The good side to this is that if you can keep them swaddled (which I couldn’t) you can keep the baby calm. If a baby is swaddled then they are less likely to  wiggle and wake themselves up when they sleep.

Newborns wiggle all of the time.They don’t care if you are trying to bathe them, feed them,  wipe poop off their butts. Babies gain motor coordination from the head down.

The second thing I didn’t know was that newborns fucking freak out when they pee or poop. What takes a newborn from peaceful to frantic in a nanosecond? A bowel movement.

The third area of ignorance for me was the assumption that baby girls can’t send their urine and excrement flying around the way newborn boys can. The first night home from the hospital, I was changing Scarlett’s diaper at 3am when she started to poop on the changing table. She then unleashed a fart that popped the cork on a tidal wave of poop that shot, two feet, over the changing table, headed directly for my closet door, and missed landing in my Kate Spade purse that was hanging on the door knob.

But that’s what newborns do. They eat and send it out the other end. That’s normal. Never in your life will normal seem so strange. You will have discussions with everyone about peeing and pooping. You have in-depth analytical debates over the consistency and frequency of the poop.

Many doctors will tell you not to take the baby out during the first four weeks. If you think  this seems like a prison sentence ask yourself if you are prepared for cleaning up the poop in public?Scarlett pooped at each of her first four trips to the grocery store.Your newborn will burp and fart and relieve themselves  like a frat boy on a drinking binge and not care about the company he or she keeps. Get used to it.

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The Only: A Case For One Child

When I was first pregnant, I planned for one baby. All I ever wanted was a little girl. I know it sounds bad. But I was an only little girl. That’s what I know. I was raised an only child. The story being much more complicated than that but the point is I have fond memories of being included in things that you may not be able to do with more than one child for many reasons. Expensive dinners, trips to the theater, private schools, museums, private piano lessons. There were other times, when I found myself lonely and longing for someone to play with. Of course, I didn’t live in a neighborhood that lent itself to playing outside and there was only 1 other child in my neighborhood.

When I planned to have a baby, I initially thought that I would have more than one to break that “only child” stigma– A play-mate. A built in buddy. Isn’t that what siblings are? As I get older, as Scarlett gets older and  truly is attached to her dad and I,  is a second child is really worth it?

There were many times in my life when I was hit with the only child generalizations. In high school a history teacher said, “we all know about only children and how messed up they turn out.” I, being an “only” was brave enough to raise my hand and say, “Excuse me Sister, (Catholic school–not being brazen) I am an only child and I think I turned out very well.”  I was always a little more mature, a little more articulate, and clever.  I found friends, (many of them only children as well but not all) who shared these traits.  I am not saying siblings are not as bright or well spoken. In fact, I always dreamed of and longed for a sibling.  When I had Scarlett my fear was that she too would long for someone to play with.

Why do people have more than one child? Is it just so your current baby will have a playmate,  Is this  a legitimate reason. I ran down the list possible justifications: playmate, the possibility of having a boy, I want a second baby (pregnancy, sleepless nights, teething).  I had to ask myself, do I really want a second baby? I understand 2 kids is the social norm, again, not a good enough reason. If a little girl is what I wanted, I got lucky the first time. Why tempt fate? Finally, I was not  a fan of being pregnant.

Moreover, I had to make great sacrifices to have just one. I gave up my job. When I did return to work, my mom came 1700 miles to babysit. Granted, I got to spend 15 months at home with my daughter. If I had another, I would not be able to make this sacrifice a second time. Also, if I had a sibling, my mother would be dividing her time and not be able to do something as self-less as move away from my father for 5 months to help me. That’s a big deal.

I grappled. I thought of everyone I know who grew up, everyday,  with siblings. I was looking for that sibling-best friend connection to justify having a second baby which I think I may have romanticized. But my search fell short, sibling buddies being the exception and not the norm. Then, I considered every “only child” I know and discovered that most of them are very  close to their parents. This being the norm with a few minor exceptions.

I turned to an expert. One of my oldest and dearest friends who, with his spouse, decided to be “one and done.” His reasons were:

1. Kids are expensive. If you win the lottery and don’t have to worry about college. Great.  Have ten. But don’t you want to give one child the best life possible?

2. Sleep.

3. Only children are closer to their parents.

4. Only children are more articulate. They do more with their parents and learn more this way.

5. There is no guarantee your kids will be best friends. Most siblings are not.

6. When you have more than one kid, you spend less time together as a family. Parents divide the kids and go off to little league, the supermarket. No one is together. This also suggests that maybe parents have multiple kids to avoid having to deal with each other as a couple.

7. Don’t you want to spend time together as a couple? An “only” allows for this more (see item #6).

8. Only children seem to truly value the friendships they have and keep friends longer.

These reasons opened my eyes to what is really important. I left our conversation so grateful for the wisdom of his parenting.

What would I rather have? Two children whom we shuffle through to adulthood with the hope that I have helped  foster a sibling relationship that will bond them together for life? According to Wendy Widom, “Why Having an Only Child Rocks,” ” the bottom line is this: I can’t produce another person just to give my kid a companion, someone she may or may not get along with now or decades from now when I’m lying on my deathbed. And I can’t do it because other people think I should.” (Huffington Post).  It begs the question, do I focus my attention on our  little family, “my only” and make us as tight knit as possible?

I truly enjoy every moment I spend with my daughter. I give her my undivided attention. As it is now, I can listen to everything she says. I can truly be present for all of her milestones without having to care for another baby. I can balance my professional and personal life to make sure I attend all of her special events and school functions. I will be at every sporting event without having to divide my time. This is of top-notch importance to me. I love her watch her grow and learn. As corny as it may sound, I don’t want to miss any of it. I don’t like the idea of having to divide my time or attention with another child who, as an infant will undoubtedly, need me more.

Granted, “my only” is the youngest of my husband’s children. The age differences of at least a decade places Scarlett in her own category. Of course, she will have a bond with his older kids but we are a blended family, our lives are made of acknowledging differences and respecting them. Her experiences will be different from that of her siblings. It is okay to know that and say it. I am not singling her out. She is close to her siblings but as they grow up, she may see them less. They will be in adulthood while she is still a young child.  Moreover, Scarlett is my only. I am her mother, not her step mother. There is no “stepping back” with her. She is my sole financial responsibility. If I make this decision, she will be my “only child.” She will be our “only child.”  The characteristics of her “only child-ness” will be a little different but the lack of an additional sibling will set her apart. Not to mention, it provides us with more opportunities to expose her to new things.  To share in her life and really be present in her experiences. I don’t want to smother her. I want to give her every opportunity I can.

I realize that admitting to only wanting one child is almost offensive to some people. It can be a shock. To that I say why? Give me a reason to have a second. Give me a reason that doesn’t make the youngest child seem superfluous? An accessory?  I am intrigued. I wish I could wrap my mind around the justification of having another but the “only” in me keeps coming back to “just one.”

When a child screams in public

My daughter, at 23 months and 51 weeks, has taken up professional tantrum throwing. It’s a very competitive fine art among toddlers, usually predicated on the inability to exercise free will and recognize potentially dangerous situations.

I was always unsure of whether or not I would actually have kids. And this dilemma often occurred when I heard one screaming like a banshee in a store. So over the last few weeks, as my daughter has decided to exercise her lungs in public, I have become the mother that I often dreaded. The mother of a screaming child.

A toddler has a particular method of screaming that can make an adult cross eyed. It’s a pitch and decibel that seems to rise out of the soul. There’s no unhearing it when it leaves my ears ringing.

What do you do? I ask. What can you do? I am not the parent who gives in. The way I see it, we are now engaged in a power struggle simply because toddlers are self centered. They are supposed to be. That is their stage of development it’s not a criticism. They must begin to learn boundaries and she does. She understands boundaries at home. Now we are learning the boundaries outside of the home.

In restaurants we are fine. In fact, she tries to order for herself. We became fine in restaurants when I realized she was better behaved if she sat in a booth beside me as opposed to in a high chair. Of course, I figured this out as she was trying to climb out of a high chair but I got the point. That’s what matters.

As my daughter screams in my face and tries to climb out of the cart in Target, the screams get louder despite my de-escalation and distraction tactics. I picture my former self cringing. I cringe for myself. We are learning. What can I say. I am learning to be the mother of a toddler. She is learning to a well behaved child. It takes time.

I know one thing. Giving in and letting her take charge will not happen. I will not be one of those parents. I’m sorry to say, far too often there are children with screams that are completely unaddressed and those running wild in stores. They are  ignored or unattended. Their boundaries are far wider than my child will ever have. It’s both a safety concern and a social issue.  It’s difficult especially when you know your child is capable of behaving very well even if they appear to be momentarily feral.  If this means I have to abandon my cart and leave for the time being so be it. I’m grateful for online shopping.

If you liked this, check out my book: http://www.amazon.com/Pregnancy-Skeptical-Woman-ebook/dp/B0055E6ZAU

Click here to find out more!

 

Clipping Baby Nails

This is seriously worth a post. I can’t believe after almost 2 years of enduring this responsibility I have not written about it. We first cut Scarlett’s nails when she was 6 weeks old. It did not go well. On the final finger, “we” clipped her cuticle and blood came flooding out. Or so it seemed, as I fashioned a tiny bandage. My husband (the holder of the clippers) was beside himself. I took a different approach, I figured it was bound to happen.

Since then, I have been the sole nail clipper. And the older and more wiggly she gets, the more challenging this becomes. I try to do this when Scarlett is at her most agreeable. If she is sitting in her high chair immediately after a meal.

Usually, I wait for her to fall asleep. Not at night, because the flashlight makes her roll around.  I found the easiest way to clip little nails is to always be ready to seize the moment. I have seized the moment in her stroller at the park, while she was in a shopping cart in the parking lot of TJ Mazz, parked outside an Asian supermarket. Today, I crouched on the ground to cut her toe nails while she brushed her teeth. It may not be the proudest of moments but I like to think of it as effective grooming.

The bottom line is, I carry nail clippers with me everywhere. I keep them in my purse, the stroller, the bedroom, if the opportunity arises and Scarlett is approaching the Guinness Book of Records for nail legnth, I seize the moment.

I find that as she sleeps in her car seat is best. I wait patiently for those opportunities. My biggest question is why doesn’t a company make baby nail clippers on a key fob?

 

If you liked this, check out my book: http://www.amazon.com/Pregnancy-Skeptical-Woman-ebook/dp/B0055E6ZAU

The Final ThredUpdate

My ThredUp journey began on March 15 when I first ordered the bag. It took a little over 2 weeks to receive the bag after I was notified via email of a bag shortage. Once the bag arrived I really took my time gathering the clothing that I would end to ThredUp. In fact, I took almost 2 weeks and it got to the point where a customer service representative from the website emailed me to check the status of my bag. I was just busy and wanted to give it my full attention, I had no idea there were keeping track. In fact, it is only as a promotional opportunity that the bags are currently free. Very soon, each bag ordered will require a deposit of $4.95.

I fill my bag and send it off. On April 24th, I was notified that my bag was received. On May 15th my bag was processed and I was emailed with the amount of money I “earned.” $14.85. I think this figure is a bit low because I know I sent at least 4 never-been-worn outfits with tags. However, for the sake of convenience this process cost me nothing. I probably would have made more at a regular consignment shop but I know that would never have happened.

Finally, the last option of my ThredUp journey is whether or not I want to “cash out.” This means that I could have my funds transferred to my Paypal account. This is the only way to cash out but they do not tell you this until the end. Otherwise, you keep the funds in your ThredUp account to use for purchases.

My only two suggestions for this site are 1. Alert your customers about the Paypal cash-out when the bag is ordered. Not everyone has a Paypal account. 2. If you do not accept clothing under 12 months. Do not sell it on the website. It is clearly listed as a “restriction.” Keep it that way.

All in all, this was a positive experience. I am still debating as to whether or not I should “cash out.” In the meantime, I have already ordered and filled another bag. I don’t know if there is a limit on how many bags a customer can order. I’m sure I will find out soon enough.

If you liked this, check out my book: http://www.amazon.com/Pregnancy-Skeptical-Woman-ebook/dp/B0055E6ZAU

The Last Day of 2009: Genetic Counseling and Facebook

I am welcoming myself back to Two Man Minimum after a two-week hiatus filled with holiday dysfunction that I’m sure will work its way into a blog at some point. Also, there will be a new addition to the Two Man Minimum house as I am expecting my first child in July. It is this news that fuels today’s blog.

Being pregnant is more than two lines on a stick. In this century,  it’s filled with new tests and screenings for “chromosomal abnormalities.” It is considered a tasteful practice to refrain from  announcing your pregnancy until after the twelve week mark is over because of the rate of miscarriage drops considerably. However, today the first trimester also brings with it the “the first trimester screening.” This test occurs at a “Genetic Counselor’s” office. It requires a high definition ultrasound, a painfully full bladder, and series of blood work that determines the risk the Down’s Syndrome and other more serious chromosomal issues that can keep the fetus from thriving. The Genetic Counselor is there to talk you in from the ledge if you get bad news.

My husband and I went for this test on New Years Eve. I had to drink a crazy amount of water and then wait for my name to be called in a backed-up, over crowded office. I didn’t have anything to read with me so I was forced to watch hideous daytime television. However, my ears soon wandered to the different discussion all over the room.

Some women were there with their sisters, others brought husbands, others brought their entire families. Their name gets called, they follow the “genetic counselor” into a room and twenty minutes later they return to the waiting area to sign out.

Some women returned to the waiting area with a prescription for more blood work while others had charts filled with stick people outlining how they are a carrier for some disease. All around me people were leaving with less than ideal news but I tried not to think about it.

Finally, three hours later, my name gets called. I am a little closer to getting out of this place. We have the scan and the fetus hates it. This creature was actually trying to dodge the scanner. The technician was chasing it around my abdomen. “This kid is very stubborn, good luck to you.” She says.   But in the end, it’s fine. With the exception of having a disgruntled, camera shy fetus, everything is normal. This is particularly good news for a professional pessimist.  We head back to the dreaded waiting room. I sign out. I motion to my husband to leave. We are one step from the door when he stops, looks at the line of women waiting to sign in and asks, “isn’t that your friend from graduate school?”

At this moment the record screeched on the soundtrack to my life.

I look at the line of women to vaguely notice one person. Did I go to graduate school with her? Yes. Was she friend? No. In fact, she hated me. She and her click of friends excluded me from every graduate school social outing. She was never friendly or even professional. It was Amy Salzman- Wiener. She’s one of those people who show up at exactly the wrong moment and usually when I’m at my happiest. I hadn’t seen her since my husband and I were creating our wedding registry at Fortunoff’s four years earlier. We were pleasantly selecting luggage when she showed up (cue record screech).

Now, she’s staring right at me. We made eye contact. “No, she’s not my friend.” I tell him and I turn to leave. Once I get in the elevator I refresh his memory. I still can’t believe that my husband looked up from his new phone long enough to recognize someone he met once five years ago.

“I completely disacknowledged her existence, that was pretty bitchy wasn’t it?” I ask.

So you’re not friends with her at all?”  He asks.

“Not even on Facebook.” I respond.

“Then don’t sweat it.”  He says.

And there it is. The Facebook equalizer. The moment when I actually have to rely on social networking to determine the value of an acquaintance. Sure, Amy and I have quite a few friends in common on Facebook but we have never sent each other a request. If I am not even friends with this person in a virtual world do I need to say hello to her in the flesh? And most of the “friends” we share are more passive friends who have shifted into the world of acquaintance. People who I see maybe once a year so we can all keep score of life goals.  The only difference being is that I would say hello to them if  ever we ran into each other at the Genetic Counselor’s office.

Furthermore, Amy has always had a hard time keeping her mouth shut. She’s a gossip. So if I am at the Genetic Counselor and so is she, well, then aren’t we both pregnant?  I know through mutual friends that she already has one child so this must be her second. However, no one knows about me yet. In fact, we were saving that information for New Year’s Day.

In the end I determined that not saying hello to her was a social shunning that insured she would keep her mouth shut. Sure it was bitchy but I haven’t concealed my pregnancy for the last eleven weeks to be outed on Facebook.

I think it worked.

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