My Choice

One of the great things about MIL’s house is the location. It’s in a cul-de-sac and the back fence runs right up against a park. It is a kid’s dream really. Ry and Bug wanted to go to the park the other afternoon and I agreed to talk them after I fed Bit. Ry being a typical 5-year old girl wanted to help me feed her. I explained that I needed to nurse Bit so she couldn’t really help me. Ry’s big blue eyes furroughed in deep thought, “what is nurse?”

Here it was. One of those awkward, innocent kid questions that put adults on the spot, except it wasn’t my kid. When posed with a potentially taboo or serious question from a kid, my philosophy is that honesty is best according to age. To determine where to draw the line between saying to much and age appropriate, you really have to listen to the kid. If they are engaged in the discussion rather than being lectured, they will take the pressure off the adult and get their question answered.

I had to quickly think how to answer this question. What did her parents call breasts? Has she ever encountered breastfeeding before? “Well, nursing is a nice way of saying breastfeeding. I need to breastfeed Bit before we leave so that she will have her milk and be happy at the park.”

Ry’s cheek twitched in utter bewilderment. “How… why… why would milk be… there?”

Ball was back in my court. “Have you ever seen a mommy dog feed her puppies? Or a cow or an elephant? After mommies have a baby they make milk to feed their babies.”

Apparently, I was completely, totally crazy. “People are like animals?” Ry gave me that crusty look that basically said I was losing any and all credibility here. “GOD made people,” she stated with every ounce of confidence in her little body.

Here it was; this was my in. I now knew exactly what to say and how to explain it to her without stepping on toes or crossing the line. “Yes, He did. When God puts a baby in a mommy’s tummy, her body takes care of it while it grows until it is ready to be born. After the baby is born, her body makes milk so she can still take care of it and still help it grow.”

“Oh. But I’ve never seen anyone do it before.”

“Mommies make lots of choices when they have a baby. Some mommies choose to feed their babies with a bottle. Some mommies choose to nurse their babies. I chose to nurse Bit.”

“WHY would you ever CHOOOSE THAT?” Ry had pretty much innocently asked the question that a breastfeeding mom encounters at least once. And to be fair, bottle-feeding moms probably have to justify their choice once or twice as well.

Again, I opted for the honest answer. “Mommy milk is the healthiest milk a person can drink. I like snuggling with her while she eats, and it is free.”

By this time, Bug was finished sharing her friend with me and stepped in. She wanted to play outside until I was ready to go and Ry needed to get with her program. She didn’t ask anything else and seemed to have moved on with Bug to ideas of the park. I told her grandma later about our discussion just in case Ry asks more follow up questions later.  She was pleased with my summation and happy I simply called it a choice. But in reality, isn’t all we ever really do as parents, as individuals living moment to moment, isn’t all we ever really do making a choice? Brown or black belt? Cream or milk? Make a lunch or eat out? In the grand scheme of things, if I am ok justifying my choice to a 5-year old then it was the right one. If only all choices in this world were that easy.

New Mom on the Block

Dear Neighborhood Children:

There is a new Mom on the block. I don’t care what street rules existed before. I don’t care how things used to be. This is a new day and a new reality. If you want to play with my kids or my kids’ things, you will play by my rules. Challenge me if you like to lose. Thanks.

Signed: Meany McGee in #3

Ok, I jest, sort of. One of the benefits of living with the Moms-in-law (MIL) is that her house is in a cul-de-sac: extra yard space, safer outdoor play for kids and friendly neighbors. There are three young kids already living in The Sac, two of which are a brother and sister ages 7 and 5. The Boy is a good friend our little cousin JR and every Saturday they pal around playing war while the sister (Ry) follows begging for some sort of acknowledgment. Ry is estatic to have Bug here and have another girl who wants to play hopscotch and princesses instead of guns and bad guys. I am happy for Bug to have these friends too. I’m hoping the peer interaction will break her out of her 3-yr-old whiney streak. But while these kids are accessible they are also, well honestly, rude.

When I was a kid, I played at my neighbor’s house everyday. We were up their trees, over their fence and in their dirt every free moment of the day. But I rarely every went into their house. When it was time to eat, we went back home. If I needed to use the bathroom, I went home. If it rained we separated until the sun came out again. I don’t remember anyone ever setting down the rules, we just quietly knew that our own space was right there and the house was sort of off limits.

Maybe that’s why I just don’t get The Boy. When he was 3 and still cute and babbling, he would cross the driveway and knock on MIL’s door. They would sit and have “coffee” together and he would ask how she was doing and talk her up. It was ridiculously adorable. So add the easy access to MIL’s with the fact that his grandparents also live in The Sac and after a few years he pretty much thinks he runs the neighborhood. He comes in on Saturday’s when JR is here and raids the refrigerator, demands drinks, rarely says please or thank you, and is constantly coming in and out, in and out of the house. Mind you, he plays GREAT with JR but he is a pill. Now that I live here, I refuse to feed a child who lives twenty feet away and demands with little appreciation.

The first week we were here, he broke Bug’s fishing pole, got into old paint and painted himself, sister and the garage, and purposely stabbed holes into Bug’s cardboard play house. He demanded that my monkey dog NOT be out in the front because so-and-so is allergic, our cat not be outside because no one likes cat poo in their yard and that I wasn’t allowed to make plans that took JR away from the house on Saturday because that was their time together.

This became an all-consuming problem for me. As a personal rule, I try not to be passive aggressive. As an A-D-U-L-T I remind myself that I can handle confrontation with grown ups in a mature and assertive way without slighting someone else or causing more friction. But that doesn’t mean it comes easy. I always need a pep talk and have to prepare myself for the action. How do you confront a 7-year old about rudeness? How do you correct someone else’s child?

I swallowed my own attitude for a few days to absorb how his parents and grandparents handle him. They are very sweet people and terrific neighbors so I want to tread lightly on the issue of The Boy. Grubbing for snacks, using manners and respecting adults is a big deal to them to, so after a few days and a formal invitation to “do what I feel is necessary at the time if I have a problem” I grounded The Boy from our house. It just happened to be Spring Break. It just happened to include a Saturday. We just happened to put up our swing set. I’m sure it was not easy for him to stay away while his sister was welcome.

Five days into the banishment, he sincerely apologized for stabbing holes into Bug’s house (the infraction that finally turned me into an enforcer.) Yesterday was his first day back at the house. I volunteered to make popcorn and sliced apples as a snack. He asked for licorice he could see on the counter. I said, “No.” It came easily. I didn’t fret or silently worry what he would think about that or if I was sounding too mean. He barely ate his snack and ninety minutes later (near dinner time) found me outside to ask if he could have his bowl of popcorn that I had already cleaned up. His grandparents heard and said, “no.” He let himself in to MIL’s house fifteen minutes later to find the bowl himself and left again empty handed with a reminder that he needs to knock and MIL sternly shooing him out of her house and blatantly calling him out for his rudeness.

I feel good about learning to say “no.” It doesn’t come easily to me for whatever reason. But, motherhood teaches you that being tough in a loving way is imperative to maintaining balance in the day. Candy all day = sore belly/no dinner later. And, honestly, I do like The Boy. He is still charming and he manages the younger kids in the neighborhood in a sweet and energetic way. He is charismatic and a leader and, dare I say, he reminds me a lot of myself. Hopefully we can come to an agreement of what is acceptable behavior before the summer hits and we are in each other’s faces all day every day.  We shall see…

Marching on with a Roar

In like a lion, out like a lamb. April showers bring May flowers. In my brief and humble experience, New England is the place these charming observances of spring weather started. There are four seasons of weather in the Northeast: Snow, Rain, Humidity, and gorgeous. For us, March began with a roar. It was cold and rainy making for exhausting combinations of snow/rain/ice mixes that settled on the ground layered like sandstone rock formations. And even though I wasn’t there for the end of the month, it sounds like another round of the Winter/Spring mix roared through again. Meek little lambs were scarce, and our lives have been no different over the last 30 days.

I can’t categorize the move as a disaster because we are all together and all the really important things I truly care about made it (although the cat almost got left behind somewhere in Western Pennsylvania.) All the things I NEEDED and my personal treasures made it to Colorado safely. In the end, that is all that ever really matters. We did leave hundreds of dollars worth of things behind and thanks to the wicked weather we couldn’t have a garage sale. And while the frugal Jennifer voices inside me are irked at the losses, in my heart I know they are just things. It was just stuff, and likely stuff that was cluttering up my life anyway.

Yes, this move should have been handled much differently.  In my head, everything was going to be great and smooth sailing. And the first half of packing and loading was quite organized and managed well. Then came the first tooth. Naturally, three days before the girls and I flew out the first pearly white terror gnashed its way through Bit’s gums and took a bite out of any hope I had of having hands free to work steadily at the move. Seventeen days later, there are now four of the buggers with a fifth blistering on the verge of release. Thanks to this and the chaos of being surrounded by newness everywhere, Bit now HATES any of her jumpers, exersaucers, and play mats. Flexibility does not seem to be a natural trait for her, at least not in the month of March.

When the girls and I got off the plane, we walked nearly immediately into a hospital room. Muffin still has all four of his grandparents alive and one of his grandmothers took a nasty spill. With her fall and another two beginning to show signs of dementia, it seems that mortality will suddenly be a theme we can no longer avoid.

So between the roar of teething babies, the mauled mess of boxes begging to be unloaded, and time marching on without concern for our hectic lives, I have been reminded of the one thing that brings peace when life becomes a circus: gratitude. I am thankful that we all made it to be together again. I am thankful for this day and the chance I have to make it special for my girls. I am thankful they can get to know their extended family better. I am grateful for a roof over my head and the chance to fret about stuff because that means I am fortunate to have it. And I am certainly grateful that unpacking is the last step!