There's a five-year age gap between me and my sister. As you can imagine, there's a big difference between, say, a two-year-old and a seven-year-old, or a five-year-old and a ten-year-old.
Of course, most of those differences faded as we got older. But growing up, it made for a fair bit of conflict. I remember it drove me crazy when she wanted to copy everything I did...when, of course, all I wanted was to be an individual. And I'm sure she got pretty sick and tired of me bossing her around.
Now, with my girls, I'm starting to see that sisterly dynamic forming. They're much closer in age—just two years and three months apart—but that has its own challenges. "I had it first!" "She got the bigger piece!" "She's not sharing!" "She hit me!" And so on. There are fights. There's competition for attention. There are tears and tantrums.
But the other side of that dynamic is one that gives me pure joy.
We're in the car the other day, driving back from my father-in-law's place in Collingwood. It's close to a two-hour drive, so we purposely left late, thinking the kids would pass out in the car.
No such luck. For at least half of the trip, the two-year-old sings one of those random songs that two-year-olds sing (you know—the ones where they basically sing every little thought that comes into their head?). Loudly and tunelessly. The four-year-old complains that she wants to sleep and it's keeping her awake. "There's no reason to yell," my husband agrees.
All is quiet for a moment...then the two-year-old pipes up, "But my reason is, I want to sing." I start to laugh. My husband starts to laugh. Then the four-year-old starts to laugh—and, seeing her laugh, the two-year-old laughs too, even though she has no idea why it's funny.
Often now, I hear my girls talking to each other, carrying on mini-adult conversations over the minutiae of a child's day. The four-year-old delights in clowning around Three Stooges-style—purposely falling over, bumping into things—and the two-year-old eggs her on with an infectious giggle. They get all dolled up in princess gear and dance around the house, or they get involved in some elaborate make-believe game, the rules of which are impossible for anyone over the age of five to understand.
I can see it happening: that inevitable sisterly love. I have no idea if it will last or what their relationship as grown women will be. But the basic bond—it's there. And it's beautiful.
Wednesday, 8 April 2015
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
Four Truths About People With Kids
When it comes to social interactions, there is sometimes a gap between parents and non-parents. So in the interests of bringing these groups together, today, I'd like to share four facts about people with kids.
1. We're tired pretty much all the time - I'm not saying people without kids aren't...it's not a contest. I'm just pointing out that those of us with kids are perpetually sleep-deprived. It starts in the early infant days, when the constant feeding schedule makes you feel like you're perpetually cat-napping, and continues when your kids are little and their constant needs and demands wear you down. Add to that baby brain—a pervasive fog that can take years to dissipate—and you don't exactly have a recipe for success. So if you find yourself thinking, Why is she asking me that question? I've already told her that!—well, that's why.
2. We don't mean to be boring and neglectful, but we sometimes are - I blame this one partially on biology and partially on conditioning. And it's particularly a problem for mothers. As a mother, one of the very first things you learn is to distinguish your baby's cry from any other baby's. And, as your kids get older, you're conditioned to go from sound asleep to wide awake in seconds at the slightest cry of "mama!" from another room. (Side note: my husband can sleep through anything. The kids can be bawling their eyes out or screaming at the top of their lungs in the middle of the night, and the next morning, my husband is like, "Really? I didn't hear anything."). So when our kids are vying for our attention, we find it hard to concentrate on you. It's not that we don't want to carry on an adult conversation; it's just that it's hard for us to ignore our kids—no matter how much we might want to. In fact, we may have forgotten how to have an adult conversation. A gentle reminder never hurts.
3. We are envious of you at times - Any parent will tell you they love their kids and wouldn't trade them for anything—and of course, having kids is a choice. Yet when you casually mention your long and boozy dinner the other night, the tickets you got last-minute for the Raptors game or the trip you've booked to Europe, we will probably be a bit jealous. It's human nature to want what you don't have, and the No. 1 thing you lose when you become a parent is freedom. There's no such thing as spontaneity...any outings must be carefully planned in advance and revolve around the question, "But what will we do with the kids?" So yeah—sometimes, we resent that loss of freedom and wish we could have it back.
4. We're not trying to brag about our kids...but we will. Obsessively. - Imagine you had a big project at work, which was stressful and a total pain to orchestrate but ended up being successful. You'd want a thank you or some credit from your team members, right? Some praise from your boss? And you'd probably get those things—but when it comes to parenting, it's a different story. It's highly unlikely you'll get any praise from your kids for your successes but extremely likely they'll point out all of your failures. And, since there's no reliable benchmark for good parenting, you're often not sure you're doing well at all. So when something does go well—say, your baby starts sleeping through the night or your toddler is finally potty-trained—you're borderline desperate for positive reinforcement. So please try to cut us some slack if we sound like a broken record...parenting is our biggest project ever, and we really need to share our successes. With anyone.
So there you have it: four facts about people with kids. I'd love for people without kids to share their perspective, too, to get the other side of the story.
1. We're tired pretty much all the time - I'm not saying people without kids aren't...it's not a contest. I'm just pointing out that those of us with kids are perpetually sleep-deprived. It starts in the early infant days, when the constant feeding schedule makes you feel like you're perpetually cat-napping, and continues when your kids are little and their constant needs and demands wear you down. Add to that baby brain—a pervasive fog that can take years to dissipate—and you don't exactly have a recipe for success. So if you find yourself thinking, Why is she asking me that question? I've already told her that!—well, that's why.
2. We don't mean to be boring and neglectful, but we sometimes are - I blame this one partially on biology and partially on conditioning. And it's particularly a problem for mothers. As a mother, one of the very first things you learn is to distinguish your baby's cry from any other baby's. And, as your kids get older, you're conditioned to go from sound asleep to wide awake in seconds at the slightest cry of "mama!" from another room. (Side note: my husband can sleep through anything. The kids can be bawling their eyes out or screaming at the top of their lungs in the middle of the night, and the next morning, my husband is like, "Really? I didn't hear anything."). So when our kids are vying for our attention, we find it hard to concentrate on you. It's not that we don't want to carry on an adult conversation; it's just that it's hard for us to ignore our kids—no matter how much we might want to. In fact, we may have forgotten how to have an adult conversation. A gentle reminder never hurts.
3. We are envious of you at times - Any parent will tell you they love their kids and wouldn't trade them for anything—and of course, having kids is a choice. Yet when you casually mention your long and boozy dinner the other night, the tickets you got last-minute for the Raptors game or the trip you've booked to Europe, we will probably be a bit jealous. It's human nature to want what you don't have, and the No. 1 thing you lose when you become a parent is freedom. There's no such thing as spontaneity...any outings must be carefully planned in advance and revolve around the question, "But what will we do with the kids?" So yeah—sometimes, we resent that loss of freedom and wish we could have it back.
4. We're not trying to brag about our kids...but we will. Obsessively. - Imagine you had a big project at work, which was stressful and a total pain to orchestrate but ended up being successful. You'd want a thank you or some credit from your team members, right? Some praise from your boss? And you'd probably get those things—but when it comes to parenting, it's a different story. It's highly unlikely you'll get any praise from your kids for your successes but extremely likely they'll point out all of your failures. And, since there's no reliable benchmark for good parenting, you're often not sure you're doing well at all. So when something does go well—say, your baby starts sleeping through the night or your toddler is finally potty-trained—you're borderline desperate for positive reinforcement. So please try to cut us some slack if we sound like a broken record...parenting is our biggest project ever, and we really need to share our successes. With anyone.
So there you have it: four facts about people with kids. I'd love for people without kids to share their perspective, too, to get the other side of the story.
Wednesday, 11 March 2015
Home and Away
We recently took the girls to Punta Cana for a week's vacation at an all-inclusive resort. All in all, it was a lovely trip: the weather was fabulous, the resort was kid-friendly, there were no major disasters. It was, however, a learning experience for us, as it was the first time we'd taken a trip as a family of four. I'd like to share some key lessons with you today.
1. You can never have enough snacks - I know, I know—I've said it before. But this is in a different context. Remember: we were staying at an all-inclusive resort, with an open buffet and a wide range of food choices. Yet inevitably, my kids would eat three bites of their meal and say they were full. Then, as soon as we left the restaurant and got to the pool or the beach, they'd ask for a snack. And a drink. We thought we'd packed a ton of extra food just in case, but we came home with nothing. In a similar vein...
2. You can never have too many diapers and wipes - So we're in the Dominican Republic, and the food is different, and the water is different...and while nobody got sick per se, we definitely went through more than the usual amounts of diapers for the toddler. As for wipes, they're the MacGyver of baby products: there's nothing they can't do.
3. You will miss having a buffer - My kids can be needy in general, but man, when it was just my husband and I trying to meet all of those needs, it was surprisingly hard. "I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I have to go to the bathroom, you need to change my bum, where's my bear? watch what I can do!...." Some days, they just went on and on and on. My husband and I felt we didn't have a vacation as a couple, even though we were pretty much always together. Luckily, we met another family with two girls, and the kids were able to (sort of) amuse each other so the adults could have some grown-up time. But there's no question, it would have been a very different trip if it had just been my husband and I.
4. Sometimes, there's just nothing you can do - Our return flight home didn't depart until 9:45 p.m.—way past everyone's bedtime—and involved the usual long period of sitting on the plane, waiting for takeoff. Not exactly a recipe for success. My two-year-old didn't understand why she wasn't allowed to take off her seat belt and wander around. Plus, the stewardess asked us to turn off the iPad and the entertainment system wasn't on yet, so we didn't have a lot of tools at our disposal. Believe me, I tried: stickers, stories, cuddles, lollipops...the toddler just wasn't buying any of it. We became those parents you never want to be: the ones whose kid is screaming and annoying everyone in an enclosed space. It wasn't great, but we got through it. Which brings me to the most important point...
5. Even though it's difficult at times, you'll want to do it again - As with anything in life, our trip had high points and low points. And the kids are still so young, they probably won't remember any of it. But we will. We'll remember how the two-year-old, watching the Michael Jackson impersonator moonwalk on stage, looked up with delight and exclaimed, "He go backwards and backwards and backwards!" How our increasingly coltish four-year-old went on every slide in the water park a hundred times and tried to make friends with every little kid she saw. How much fun the two-year-old had making—and smashing—sand castles, and how she started asking for "pina coyadas" every time we went to the bar. How the four-year-old giggled uncontrollably while petting a stingray and tried to learn Latin dancing.
When you have kids, you have a choice: you can make them your lives, or you can bring them into yours. We chose the second option. My husband and I loved to travel before we had kids, so why should we have to give it up now?
So we won't. We'll go on another trip, and maybe it will be just the two of us, but more likely, it will be the whole family. All four of us—and a massive bag of granola bars.
1. You can never have enough snacks - I know, I know—I've said it before. But this is in a different context. Remember: we were staying at an all-inclusive resort, with an open buffet and a wide range of food choices. Yet inevitably, my kids would eat three bites of their meal and say they were full. Then, as soon as we left the restaurant and got to the pool or the beach, they'd ask for a snack. And a drink. We thought we'd packed a ton of extra food just in case, but we came home with nothing. In a similar vein...
2. You can never have too many diapers and wipes - So we're in the Dominican Republic, and the food is different, and the water is different...and while nobody got sick per se, we definitely went through more than the usual amounts of diapers for the toddler. As for wipes, they're the MacGyver of baby products: there's nothing they can't do.
3. You will miss having a buffer - My kids can be needy in general, but man, when it was just my husband and I trying to meet all of those needs, it was surprisingly hard. "I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I have to go to the bathroom, you need to change my bum, where's my bear? watch what I can do!...." Some days, they just went on and on and on. My husband and I felt we didn't have a vacation as a couple, even though we were pretty much always together. Luckily, we met another family with two girls, and the kids were able to (sort of) amuse each other so the adults could have some grown-up time. But there's no question, it would have been a very different trip if it had just been my husband and I.
4. Sometimes, there's just nothing you can do - Our return flight home didn't depart until 9:45 p.m.—way past everyone's bedtime—and involved the usual long period of sitting on the plane, waiting for takeoff. Not exactly a recipe for success. My two-year-old didn't understand why she wasn't allowed to take off her seat belt and wander around. Plus, the stewardess asked us to turn off the iPad and the entertainment system wasn't on yet, so we didn't have a lot of tools at our disposal. Believe me, I tried: stickers, stories, cuddles, lollipops...the toddler just wasn't buying any of it. We became those parents you never want to be: the ones whose kid is screaming and annoying everyone in an enclosed space. It wasn't great, but we got through it. Which brings me to the most important point...
5. Even though it's difficult at times, you'll want to do it again - As with anything in life, our trip had high points and low points. And the kids are still so young, they probably won't remember any of it. But we will. We'll remember how the two-year-old, watching the Michael Jackson impersonator moonwalk on stage, looked up with delight and exclaimed, "He go backwards and backwards and backwards!" How our increasingly coltish four-year-old went on every slide in the water park a hundred times and tried to make friends with every little kid she saw. How much fun the two-year-old had making—and smashing—sand castles, and how she started asking for "pina coyadas" every time we went to the bar. How the four-year-old giggled uncontrollably while petting a stingray and tried to learn Latin dancing.
When you have kids, you have a choice: you can make them your lives, or you can bring them into yours. We chose the second option. My husband and I loved to travel before we had kids, so why should we have to give it up now?
So we won't. We'll go on another trip, and maybe it will be just the two of us, but more likely, it will be the whole family. All four of us—and a massive bag of granola bars.
Sunday, 1 February 2015
3 Suggestions (Not Advice) for New Moms
That first period of having a newborn—and feeling like you have no idea what you're doing—can be very stressful. And you're going to get a lot of advice from "veteran" moms, most of it unsolicited.
At the risk of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, I'd like to offer three suggestions for managing that early phase of motherhood. Call them recommendations, if you like. But they're definitely not advice (see Suggestion #3).
Suggestion #1: Don't be afraid to ask for help
This seems like a no-brainer, but many new moms—including me—find themselves subject to a ridiculous notion that they have to somehow prove they're worthy of motherhood. That asking for help is admitting they can't handle things on their own. This can lead to martyr syndrome, where parents (let's be honest: usually women) wind up doing everything themselves because they've said "no" to others too many times.
Everybody needs help sometimes. And it's better to accept genuine offers of help than to refuse and feel secretly resentful that you have to do it all yourself.
Suggestion #2: Be specific about what help you really want
In my experience, people really do want to help. But you need to tell them exactly what you want them to do.
When I had my first baby, people would ask me, "Do you need anything? How can I help? Can I come for a visit?" And I would say, "Sure! Come whenever you want!" But what I really meant was, "I want the company, but I'm terrified you'll show up when I have my boobs out and the baby's crying and there's milk spurting everywhere and I haven't showered in 48 hours."
What I should have said is, "Sure, why don't you come by around 2 p.m. for a quick visit?" Or, "To be honest, I'm exhausted this week. If you're willing to hold the baby for half an hour, I'd love the chance to take a nap. Is that okay?" One of the best things a friend did for me when I had baby No. 1 was to come over, bring all of the necessary ingredients and make lunch for both of us. It was perfect: I enjoyed some grown-up company, I didn't have to attempt the then-arduous task of leaving the house with an infant and I got a real meal instead of whatever I could cram into my mouth between feedings.
Suggestion #3: Listen to everyone's advice but make up your own mind
When you have a baby, you'll find everyone has an opinion about what you should be doing and how you should raise your child. Unasked-for opinions will be gently or adamantly offered on topics ranging from what you should feed your baby, to whether your baby is dressed appropriately, to what kind of childcare arrangement you should have.
For the most part, it's well intentioned, and "veteran" moms may have insights you'll find valuable. The key is to hear what they have to say but make your own decisions. This is sometimes hard to do, especially when those offering the advice are family members or close friends who believe they know best. But the reality is, you're the parent. It's your decision (or you and your partner's).
So those are my suggestions: whether or not you take them, I won't be offended. And if you want me to hold the baby for a while, just let me know.
At the risk of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, I'd like to offer three suggestions for managing that early phase of motherhood. Call them recommendations, if you like. But they're definitely not advice (see Suggestion #3).
Suggestion #1: Don't be afraid to ask for help
This seems like a no-brainer, but many new moms—including me—find themselves subject to a ridiculous notion that they have to somehow prove they're worthy of motherhood. That asking for help is admitting they can't handle things on their own. This can lead to martyr syndrome, where parents (let's be honest: usually women) wind up doing everything themselves because they've said "no" to others too many times.
Everybody needs help sometimes. And it's better to accept genuine offers of help than to refuse and feel secretly resentful that you have to do it all yourself.
Suggestion #2: Be specific about what help you really want
In my experience, people really do want to help. But you need to tell them exactly what you want them to do.
When I had my first baby, people would ask me, "Do you need anything? How can I help? Can I come for a visit?" And I would say, "Sure! Come whenever you want!" But what I really meant was, "I want the company, but I'm terrified you'll show up when I have my boobs out and the baby's crying and there's milk spurting everywhere and I haven't showered in 48 hours."
What I should have said is, "Sure, why don't you come by around 2 p.m. for a quick visit?" Or, "To be honest, I'm exhausted this week. If you're willing to hold the baby for half an hour, I'd love the chance to take a nap. Is that okay?" One of the best things a friend did for me when I had baby No. 1 was to come over, bring all of the necessary ingredients and make lunch for both of us. It was perfect: I enjoyed some grown-up company, I didn't have to attempt the then-arduous task of leaving the house with an infant and I got a real meal instead of whatever I could cram into my mouth between feedings.
Suggestion #3: Listen to everyone's advice but make up your own mind
When you have a baby, you'll find everyone has an opinion about what you should be doing and how you should raise your child. Unasked-for opinions will be gently or adamantly offered on topics ranging from what you should feed your baby, to whether your baby is dressed appropriately, to what kind of childcare arrangement you should have.
For the most part, it's well intentioned, and "veteran" moms may have insights you'll find valuable. The key is to hear what they have to say but make your own decisions. This is sometimes hard to do, especially when those offering the advice are family members or close friends who believe they know best. But the reality is, you're the parent. It's your decision (or you and your partner's).
So those are my suggestions: whether or not you take them, I won't be offended. And if you want me to hold the baby for a while, just let me know.
Saturday, 24 January 2015
Tea for Two
I remember when my older child was maybe nine or ten months old. My husband was watching her, and I was drinking wine with my girlfriends (because I could drink wine again! Exciting!). Feeling heady with the wine and with a blissful rush of love for my expanded family, I was waxing sentimental about how great it was to have a baby that age.
"Do you think you'll have another?" one of my girlfriends asked.
"Oh yes!" I said with absolute confidence. By this point, I was past the early "what-the-hell-am-I-doing?" feeling and, at times, terror that I was screwing everything up. Past the 2 a.m. feedings and long sleepless nights. Past the struggling to breastfeed and the guilt at eventually giving it up. We had a routine that worked, she was sleeping and eating well, she was meeting all of the first year milestones. Okay, maybe I hadn't figured out all of the nuances of parenting yet, but I was getting there, I thought. I had a handle on it.
And then, when she was just over two years old, we had baby No. 2. And everything changed.
You know intuitively that having more than one child must be more challenging than having one. After all, there are only so many hours in a day, and as a parent, you only have so much energy. But what you don't realize is, when your kids are little, it's not just harder, it's exponentially harder.
For me, at least, the transition from one child to two was a real shock. Balancing the needs and demands of a toddler with the competing demands of a breastfeeding newborn was tough, and I felt someone was always losing out. As the second baby got older, their interactions were mostly competing for attention (usually mine) and fighting over toys.
That still happens, of course. But now my girls are two and four, and I can see the dynamic shifting again.
As I write this blog post, they're sitting on the couch side by side watching Treehouse. And this morning, when I went to take them downstairs for breakfast, they were both sitting on the floor in my older daughter's room, looking at books together.
It's possible now for my husband and I to have 15 minutes after dinner to just relax as they play together in the family room, before someone inevitably steals someone else's toy and causes a meltdown. They're still pretty constant—Can I have some milk? Where's my puppy? She's not sharing!—but we can leave them to their own devices for a while without always having to entertain them.
When we decided to have two kids, two years apart, we hoped they'd become close. We hoped they'd be good friends. Realistically, who knows what kind of relationship they'll develop? But from a parent's perspective, there are so many lovely things about having two.
Watching them clown around, the older one pretending to fall over and making the other one giggle. Listening to them sing songs together in the backseat of the car on road trips. Seeing my older daughter, who is learning to read, try to read a story to her baby sister.
Like all siblings, they fight and compete, and it's still hard to balance their needs. I know sometimes my older child loses out because her younger sister, at two, is still pretty dependent.
But I can see glimmers of a future where they're more self-sufficient—and, I hope, more reliant on each other. And I can't imagine a world, or my family, without them both.
"Do you think you'll have another?" one of my girlfriends asked.
"Oh yes!" I said with absolute confidence. By this point, I was past the early "what-the-hell-am-I-doing?" feeling and, at times, terror that I was screwing everything up. Past the 2 a.m. feedings and long sleepless nights. Past the struggling to breastfeed and the guilt at eventually giving it up. We had a routine that worked, she was sleeping and eating well, she was meeting all of the first year milestones. Okay, maybe I hadn't figured out all of the nuances of parenting yet, but I was getting there, I thought. I had a handle on it.
And then, when she was just over two years old, we had baby No. 2. And everything changed.
You know intuitively that having more than one child must be more challenging than having one. After all, there are only so many hours in a day, and as a parent, you only have so much energy. But what you don't realize is, when your kids are little, it's not just harder, it's exponentially harder.
For me, at least, the transition from one child to two was a real shock. Balancing the needs and demands of a toddler with the competing demands of a breastfeeding newborn was tough, and I felt someone was always losing out. As the second baby got older, their interactions were mostly competing for attention (usually mine) and fighting over toys.
That still happens, of course. But now my girls are two and four, and I can see the dynamic shifting again.
As I write this blog post, they're sitting on the couch side by side watching Treehouse. And this morning, when I went to take them downstairs for breakfast, they were both sitting on the floor in my older daughter's room, looking at books together.
It's possible now for my husband and I to have 15 minutes after dinner to just relax as they play together in the family room, before someone inevitably steals someone else's toy and causes a meltdown. They're still pretty constant—Can I have some milk? Where's my puppy? She's not sharing!—but we can leave them to their own devices for a while without always having to entertain them.
When we decided to have two kids, two years apart, we hoped they'd become close. We hoped they'd be good friends. Realistically, who knows what kind of relationship they'll develop? But from a parent's perspective, there are so many lovely things about having two.
Watching them clown around, the older one pretending to fall over and making the other one giggle. Listening to them sing songs together in the backseat of the car on road trips. Seeing my older daughter, who is learning to read, try to read a story to her baby sister.
Like all siblings, they fight and compete, and it's still hard to balance their needs. I know sometimes my older child loses out because her younger sister, at two, is still pretty dependent.
But I can see glimmers of a future where they're more self-sufficient—and, I hope, more reliant on each other. And I can't imagine a world, or my family, without them both.
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