Suck it, Aqua-mom!

Last Friday I took Daphne to her third swim class. I was really looking forward to it 'cause she'd had a nap right before. The problem with the class is that it starts at 9 am which is right around the time Daphne joins me for her morning nap (and my sleep in!) We managed to get her down for a 20 minute catnap at 8 so I was pretty confident that she would be a little more interested in the class and a little less tired and freaked out this time. And I was right. She had a blast. Too bad I didn't. Here's what happened:

We arrived for the class at around five to nine with just enough time for me to take off the million layers that adorn Daphne whenever we go out and for me to get my swimsuit on. The family change room was pretty much empty save for a mom, her baby boy and the boy's grandmother. I sat Daphne down on the giant multi-baby change table and began to get her undressed. The grandmother of the boy was taking a bunch of pictures of him as he appeared to have just learned how to sit. The boy's mom looked at Daphne and said to her son 'Sweetie, do you see the little baby?' and proceeded to make quite a few comments to get him interested in the 'young baby' to his right. Finally I looked up at her and jokingly said 'I bet that Daphne's actually older than your guy, she's just really small.' To which the mom replied 'Really?' To which I replied 'Yeah, I bet you can't even guess how old she is.' So she guessed what I will grant her was a very educated guess. Daphne had to be between 5 and 7 months based solely on the fact that she was sitting. Five months may be jumping the gun on sitting so my guess is that's how she got to her guess of 6 months. Actually, I think she said 'no more than 6 months'. I informed her that Daphne was in fact 8 months to which she replied 'Oh...it's just that she doesn't act like an 8 month old." EXCUSE ME? 'It's just that she doesn't act like an 8 month old.' Okay, so please tell me that I'm right in being offended by this comment! I mean, fine, tell me that my baby looks young but to look at her for all of a minute and repeatedly (yes, she said it more than once) tell me that she's not acting her age is a huge insult. Who died and made you a specialist on infant behaviour? The last time I checked she was a first-time mom too, so I have no idea what she's basing this observation on. Did she expect Daphne to be dressing herself at 8 months? Did she think that because Daphne was being a quiet, well-behaved baby that she had to be younger than she was? Or maybe, just maybe, was she basing it all on the fact that Daphne wasn't reciting the alphabet yet? Yup, that's got to be it. All 8 month olds can recite the alphabet, it's a fact. The really talented ones can even read and spell and some of them (the ones who've mastered crawling, walking and running) can ride bikes. Man, I can't believe how far behind Daphne is. We're screwed.

But in all seriousness, what this lady said really irked me. It also made me stress out, unnecessarily. I got home and all I could hear was her comment and being the over-reactor that I am, I started to actually believe that there was something wrong with Daphne. I got all stressed out because she's shown very little interest in crawling or walking. I forgot to acknowledge that fact she's got really great fine motor skills and is chatty to boot. Yeah, she seems to be reaching her gross motor skill milestones a little later than some babies, but she's not by any means out of the range of normal. Her size does add to my stress, but she seems happy and healthy and neither the doctor nor the pediatrician seem to be concerned. Why then, did I let this happen? Why did I let what someone else said get to me? Why are parents so interested in comparing their babies? My guess is that all parents want the best for their children and most parents want their children to be the best. I think that a lot of us take our babies' development personally. Why is so-and-so's baby crawling and Daphne isn't? Did I do something wrong? Should I have given her an hour more of tummy time every day? Maybe, maybe not. The truth of the matter is that all babies are different, some are quicker than others. It doesn't make your baby or my baby better, it just shows us that we're all as unique as they say we are. All we can do is be there to support our babies as they learn to navigate this crazy world and stay positive. The last thing anyone needs is negativity, especially babies; they're way too perceptive and a lot smarter than most of us give them credit for. Daphne's also a Taurus, which means she's stubborn and would rather learn at her own pace, something that I have to constantly remind myself of as us Aries like to lead and take charge. Look at me all sounding like an astrologist, but it's true. As much fun as it is to manipulate Daphne into a crawling position, something tells me that it's all for naught. Daphne will get there when she's good and ready to and I'm not going to let anyone make me second-guess just how awesome she is ever again. Or so I hope.

Oh, and to the aqua-mom who made the comment: instead of casting judgement why not offer some positive reinforcement to other new moms like yourself? We're all as insecure as you are, and could use the support. Besides, you'll need it in 40 years when Daphne's prime minister and your son's getting her coffee. Snap!

Daphne, five months, reading up on foreign policy.

First is the worst, second is the best...

Some things in life are a given. We are born. We breathe. We eat. We drink. We sleep. And we all love Dave more than Eve. It's true, for some reason (or rather, many) everyone tends to prefer Dave to me. He's funnier, smarter, less annoying, cuter and all around nicer than I am. I've come to accept this. I've come to accept the fact that everyone tells me how lucky I am to have Dave yet he rarely hears the words 'You're so lucky to have Eve.' I understand that although this is the case, Dave appreciates me and knows that he's very lucky to have me too.

Daphne sharing her first smile with dad

One thing that I was certain of when I married Dave was that when we had kids they too would love him more than me. Maybe "love's" not the right word, maybe we should stick with "like" -- it's a little more fitting. Yes, our kids will definitely like Dave more than me. I mean he's really awesome at being that silly/funny/cool guy that kids can't get enough of. I've seen it on the times we've spent with our nephews and I now see it with Daphne. Don't get me wrong, Daphne loves me and I'm pretty sure she even likes me, but when her and Dave get going there's no mistaking that she definitely likes Dave more. She cries when he leaves the room or when he enters it and doesn't pick her up right away (even if I'm holding her at the time) and when he gets home from work and she hears his voice her face lights up as if it's Christmas morning. Sometimes she's so excited to see him that she falls over, it's the cutest thing ever. She also laughs with him a lot more than she laughs with me (which is fine by me as long as I can hear her laughing 'cause it's also the cutest thing ever). Anyway, you get the point, Daphne loves Dave, big deal. Well here's what the big deal is, at least for me. The whole time that I've known that I would be second place to Dave only one thing has kept me going: I get to be the mom. I get to be Daphne's mom and any subsequent children we have, I'll be their mom too. Moms are the ones who spend all their time making sure that their families are happy and healthy. That worry more than any one person should. Moms are caring and nurturing, loving and kind. Moms aren't always the most fun and sometimes they can seem pretty mean, but one thing that separates a mom from everyone else is the way they are able to comfort their children. I don't know what it is that gives moms this special ability, but there's something almost magical about the healing properties of a mother's embrace. It's this bond between mother and child that makes me okay with the fact that I will almost always be second place. Yes, Dave is the best father in the world (it's a fact), who will come up with some pretty imaginative ways to cure Daphne's ouchies, but when push comes to shove, I know deep down that on those rare occasions where Daphne needs to feel extra secure it's me that she'll come to, and I'll be waiting there with open arms. How do I know this? Because it happened just the other day.

Dave, Daphne and I took a little trip south to Whidbey Island (this amazing little place on the pacific coast of Washington state).  We had planned to pick up Dave's new french horn, do some shopping and possibly spend the night in a hotel (depending on how much we had to declare!) We were a little bit concerned about how the 2 1/2 hour drive would be as Daphne's not the hugest fan of her car seat right now. She was doing alright until just after we crossed the border into the US. She started to get a bit fussy, but she wasn't crying, she was just whimpering (which is very unlike Daphne). Anyway, I felt her head and it felt HOT, like fever hot. I then kicked myself 'cause the last thing I saw before we left home was our instant read thermometer and I decided not to pack it 'cause I figured the chances of her coming down with something in the next twelve hours was unlikely. I guess I was wrong. Anyway, being a mom (and a hypochondriac) I started thinking of all the horrible things that could be wrong with Daphne and being Mrs. Frugal I started thinking that I really didn't want to have to deal with insurance claims and the cost of having Daphne treated in the US should anything be really wrong. So I had Dave stop at the Walgreens where I bought not one, but two thermometers and some infant Tylenol. We took her temperature and it was high, like freak out high, so of course I freaked out! I almost made Dave turn the car around, but we were now only 30 minutes from our destination, so we gave Daphne some Tylenol and decided to see how things were when we stopped. Luckily, by the time we got to Whidbey Island Daphne's fever had dropped down to mild, so we felt okay finishing off the trip.

We had planned to go to this place called Toby's Tavern in Coupeville for lunch. They were supposed to have the best mussels ever so I was pretty stoked. We parked the car and headed in and we were greeted by a waitress who looked at us and said 'no minors' and forced us to leave.  Bummer, I hadn't realized that an infant was considered a 'minor' in that respect. I was pretty upset as I had my heart set on having mussels but luckily we stumbled upon this place called Mosquito Fleet Chili and decided to check it out. I'm not kidding you when I say that this was the best lunch I've ever had, it was awesome. I had the grilled cheese and tomato bisque and Dave had a yummy salmon and asparagus quiche with the best clam chowder in the world. Anyway, I digress. It was here at Mosquito Fleet Chili that my dream came true. Our little Daphne, who's normally loud and obnoxious (yes, 8 month olds can be obnoxious) was quiet and subdued. Her cheeks were flushed and she kept fidgeting while Dave held her. I offered to hold her when his chowder came and she sat there in my arms and laid her head down to rest on my shoulders. At that moment in time, the only thing that made Daphne feel better was me. Her mom. I held her for as long as she would let me and I squeezed her as gently as I could and cherished the moment and how special it was, for I knew that even though this was one of many, my job is to ensure that my little girl has as few of these moments as possible.

Crying it out - a Canadian perspective.

This will probably be one of many posts I have about babies and sleep so I'll try to keep it relatively short.  It may also offend some of you parents out there who are supporters of the cry-it-out method, so please be forewarned, and stop reading if necessary.  I don't mean it to be offensive, and I will write more about this topic in the future, so read it with an open mind and know that I am not judging you but merely writing about how I feel.  Everyone has a valid opinion.


A long time ago, 4 years to be exact, my friend Lisa gave birth to twin boys.  Since then we've had a lot of telephone conversations, and for almost all of them I've asked her the same three questions: 'How are the boys?'  'Have you had a chance to shower?' (I always found it funny that she had hours on end to talk on the phone with me, but a shower was simply out of the question...now that I'm a mom I totally understand!) and my personal favourite 'Are they sleeping through the night yet?'  For the latter she would always begrudgingly answer 'No.'  You see, she has two awesome little boys who sleep very well at night, but at some point in the night they wake up and want to sleep in her bed.  For years I hounded her about her 'problem' and tried to convince her to take a week to just let them cry it out.  I would explain that they'd all be the better for it and that even though it hurt it would be worth it in the end.  She would humour me and come up with excuses for why she hadn't tried crying it out yet, but by the end of the conversation she'd say something like 'Just wait until you have kids, you act like you're all strong and tough but you're going to be even more of a softy than I am!  Letting your baby cry it out is a lot harder than you think.'  Well, she was right.  The thought of ever letting Daphne cry for more than a minute or two is unbearable to me.  Maybe it's because she cried so much during her first few months that I'm trying to even out the playing field or maybe it's like Lisa said, I'm a softy.  Regardless,  I am positive that I will never support this method for infants (toddlers are a whole other story, and once I have one I'll let you know where I stand).

Sleep training methods are everywhere, I'm sure they are a multi-million dollar industry (if not more).  And regardless of what they promise, there is no one method that works for every baby -- period.  That being said, I would like to point out that we live in Canada, a country that supports a 50 week combined maternity and parental leave.  And even though we live in Canada, for some reason we choose to educate ourselves by reading literature targeted at the United States, the only country in the western world that doesn't mandate parental leave.  I don't know about you but this makes no sense to me.  Most people in the States get 12 weeks of unpaid leave (some get less!) and as you mothers out there who have babies who are 12 weeks or older know, there are very few babies out there who have a consistent sleep schedule at that age. How then, can one go back to work and leave their baby with a sitter or in daycare feeling confident that their baby will get the sleep he or she needs?  Moreover, where will will they find the time to properly sleep train their baby while working full time?  My guess is by employing a myriad of sleep training solutions that involve varying degrees of the cry-it-out (CIO) method.  Sadly, for mothers in the States, the CIO method is one of the only viable methods out there.

Daphne and I on the day she was born. 

For those of you who live in Canada however, who are being paid by the government (and possibly your employer) to stay home for the year, let me ask you this:  what possible reason could you have to use the CIO method?  My guess is none.  No, let me change that, my guess is that you've chosen the CIO method because someone told you to.  Maybe it was your mom, who probably used the CIO method on you (and probably did so because until 1990 mothers in Canada only got 15 weeks of maternity leave) or maybe you're competing with a friend of yours (or a frequent status-updating facebook 'friend') who constantly gloats about their perfect baby who sleeps 12 hours straight every night and takes 2 two hour naps every day.  Or maybe, just maybe,  a non-parent-know-it-all like I was harassed you for so long that you caved and decided to try it.  Regardless of the reason, take a step back a think about who it is that you're trying this method out on:  your baby.  Your sweet, innocent, poops-in-her-pants baby.  Your baby that can only communicate with you by crying.  That smiles when you enter a room or pick her up.  That cries when you leave a room because she doesn't quite understand that you'll always come back.  Your baby, the one that is biologically dependent on your for fourteen to seventeen years, longer than any other being on earth.  Yup, that one.  Please, cherish this time and guide your baby through this world as gently as you possibly can.  They'll only be the better for it...and so will you.




    

The sitter.

Okay, so I know it's been more than a week since my last post and for that I'm sorry.  I guess I got swept up in the whole baby's first holiday season that I kind of dropped the ball on writing.  I will try not to make this a habit, but I'm really good at developing bad habits so I won't pinky swear on this one.  Anyway, Daphne's first Christmas/New Year's and everything-else-in-between is now over and while it was fantastic I'm glad it's over.  Mostly because we can get back to our usual routine but also because I'm tired of feeling guilty over all the baby's first photos we forgot to take.  Let's see here, we don't have any pictures of Daphne at her first Christmas market (probably because it was lame, but still), none of her opening presents on Christmas morning (that's a big oops), none of her video-chatting with friends and family on Christmas day, and none of her on New Year's Eve (or day for that matter)...oh well, as I always say, 'we'll be sure to get it right with the next one!'

One of Daphne's big firsts this holiday season was that we left her with a sitter for the first time.  Before Dave and I had Daphne we didn't really understand how some parents could go years without leaving their kids with a sitter.  It seemed pretty simple:  you call someone up, you ask them to babysit, they come over and play with your baby, feed them and then put them to bed.  I mean, how hard could it be?  Is leaving your child for a night so terrifying that you'd be willing to sacrifice years of date-nights just to avoid doing so?  Well, for some parents the answer is yes; for Dave and I the answer was a resounding I-hope-not-but-the-way-things-seem-to-be-going-Daphne'll-be-married-before-we're-comfortable-leaving-her-alone-for-the-night.

There were a few reasons we were terrified.  The first was that Daphne started her separation anxiety phase really early (at five months), so if someone other than Dave or I held her for more than 30 seconds she'd start freaking out.  When my mom came to visit a few weeks back, I would leave Daphne with her while I did chores or chilled out in my bedroom.  I wanted to give Daphne some time to get used to being apart from Dave and me.  It didn't matter if I was gone for a couple of minutes or an hour, she'd cry non-stop.  Because it was my mom, I didn't feel guilty leaving her with her crying grand-daughter.  We both felt bad for Daphne but we both knew that my mom could handle it and that she'd take a crying Daphne any day of the week if it meant she got to spend some one-on-one time with her. The same can't be said for a sitter who's not related to you.  I mean, let's say you find someone great and leave them with your crying baby for a few hours, are they really going to agree to babysit again?  Maybe yes, but maybe they'll just happen to be washing their hair the next 20 times you ask them to babysit.  For those of you wondering why we can't just leave Daphne with family then, all of our family lives at least 4000 kms away.

5 seconds before a meltdown. 

The second reason I was worried about being gone for an extended period of time was that I'm one of the lucky few breastfeeding moms who can barely pump a drop of milk.  The average breastfeeding woman will pump an ounce or two of milk per session (and a lot can pump more than this).  If you're breastfeeding a 7 month old, you could realistically pump a bottle a day and not kill yourself in the process.  If I wanted to pump one bottle it would take me three days, which means that if I wanted to go out and leave the sitter with 2 bottles I'd have to pump 3 times/day for 6 days (I know, my math is that good!)  Anyway, Dave would have to promise me a pretty spectacular date to make that much pumping worthwhile.  Or, we could just go out after Daphne's gone to bed for the night, but that leads us to worry number 3.

Daphne can sleep in her crib and she sleeps the recommended 11 hours per night.  Pretty good, right?  Well, Daphne's actually in bed for 12-12 1/2 hours each night, but from the time she goes to bed at 7 until about two hours later she wakes up what seems like every 20 minutes and needs to be comforted back to sleep.  It's not too bad, you just have to sit by her crib and hold her hand (it's actually really cute!).  The problem though, is that babies are smart.  Babies know when their parents aren't home.  If you leave your baby with a sitter and try to pull a fast one by leaving while they're asleep, there's going to be hell to pay when the sitter has to go in the first time they wake up (especially if they're going through the separation anxiety phase).  Now let's say that we got lucky and Daphne didn't freak out when the sitter came in to hold her had, can you honestly tell me that someone other than Dave or me would willingly hold our baby's hand for a couple of hours while hanging over a crib?

Well, luckily for us, our friend Annelisa's family lives in Vancouver so she comes out to visit a few times a year.  The reason I say luckily for us, is because for some reason, Daphne seems to be immune to separation anxiety while in Annelisa's presence.  I don't know if it's 'cause Daphne's trying to network her way into a career in arts administration or 'cause she has a thing for cute blondes, but regardless she seems to be totally enamored with her.  That made taking Annelisa up on her many offers to babysit that much easier.

Like seriously.  Can she be any more in love?

We did follow some of the rules we found about leaving your baby with a sitter for the first time.  For one we had Annelisa and Daphne spend some time together before the day Annelisa was set to babysit.  It worked out well for us 'cause Annelisa's family is our surrogate family on holidays, meaning we got to enjoy yet another scrumptious meal with them this Christmas.  We all had a ball and Daphne was the life of the party.  We also kept Daphne's routine the same when Annelisa arrived and let Daphne warm up to her again before we left.  Another thing that's advised is to say goodbye to your baby.  If you try to sneak out thinking it'll be easier on your baby, apparently it's not.  I wrote out Daphne's bedtime routine and explained everything in the type of exhaustive detail only lame parents possess!  Then out the door we went.

We had planned to go see Harry Potter 7 and get some dinner either before or after.  We hopped in the car and two minutes in I said to Dave in a worried voice "Do you think we should have left the number of the theatre for Annelisa?" after which Dave replied "Maybe...if we still lived in the 80s."  As Dave went to park the car I headed in to the only Famous Players theatre in all of downtown Vancouver to buy our tickets.  I had to wait in line 'cause I had a coupon.  Part way through my wait they announced that Harry Potter was sold out...seriously?  In week 6?  Only in Vancouver.  Now if you know me, you'll know that once I decide to do something I won't be happy until I've done it.  That meant that Dave and I had to drive around for a while until I found a theatre nearby that was playing Harry Potter at a reasonable hour.  Luckily, we found a theatre in North Van that had lots of tickets left and had a really awesome Tuesday night special going on.

We got to the theatre and I grabbed our seats.  The movie began and lo and behold we were seated by one of those annoying people who play on their cell phones during the entire movie.  Oh wait, that really annoying person was me!  I probably checked my phone for messages from Annelisa about -- oh, every 5 seconds!  I tried to be really discreet, but those screens are so bright that they could keep earth warm for years in the event the sun was to go away.  A couple hours in I received the text.  It read: "Everything is good.  Daphne ate everything and is now asleep. (knock on wood!)".  I showed the text to Dave, who gave me a look that could only read "Good, NOW CAN YOU STOP CHECKING YOUR PHONE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD?!!!!"  Sadly for Dave, this text made me check even more.  She said knock on wood, that could only mean that Daphne'd been difficult and she was hoping that she wouldn't wake up again!  We received no texts for the rest of the movie.

We decided to pick up some food instead of eating out 'cause our movie had started an hour later than we'd originally planned for.  I'm sure Annelisa wouldn't have minded staying the extra hour but I just couldn't shake that nagging feeling that Daphne had been a holy terror for the whole night.  On the ride home Dave and I debated what our return home would be like.  I gave three scenarios: 1) Daphne would be crying loud enough that we could hear her upon entering our building. 2) Annelisa would be sitting in the darkness rocking Daphne who wouldn't sleep any other way or 3) Annelisa would have invited Audrey over and they'd each be enjoying a glass of wine.  Dave 'the optimist' picked scenario 3.  I, of course, picked 1.  Because this NEVER happens, I am proud to write that Dave was right.  Yup, I said it, my hubby was in fact right.  We walked through the door and there they were, glasses of wine in their hands, deep in conversation with George Stroumboulopoulos as their back-up entertainment on the TV.  Daphne lay quietly asleep in her crib.

So that was that.  Annelisa did great!  Daphne was her usual self.  She threw a hissy fit after Annelisa finished feeding her her 5 tonnes of food.  She threw another one when Annelisa tried giving her a bath.   And another one once her bottle was done (I dropped the ball and only pumped the night before and day of, meaning that Daphne had barely 2 ounces of milk to drink before bed).  Annelisa also had to spend well over an hour hanging over the crib holding her hand, which she didn't even complain too much about.  We were super fortunate to have such an awesome babysitter and she's set the bar high for our next one (sorry, Julia, I think that's you!)