Getting through…

This morning started with one of the most magical moments of my life.

We have been teaching Otter how to say “milk” in sign language, and over the past few days he has started to use the sign a little while nursing.

This morning, as I slept peacefully in bed, Otter patted me on the shoulder. When I opened my eyes to take in his smiling face, he grinned, said “Mi”, and made the sign for milk. Very slowly and deliberately.

I responded with “you want some milk?”

He clapped his hands, and once again made the sign for milk and said “Mi”. He was obviously delighted that he could communicate so clearly with me.

We celebrated his new found communication skills with a good long nurse, interrupted by many “Mi”‘s and hand signs. He has asked for milk repeatedly today, always using the hand sign and the word “Mi”. He is really excited about being able to talk to us.

I am going to move on to other hand signs as well, since he clearly enjoys using them and being so easily understood. Monkey never really took to sign language, but it’s looking like Otter is thrilled to have an additional way to communicate with us.

It takes a village…

…means more than simply applauding or criticizing parents as you see them at the store/park/doctor’s office.

I can’t tell you how many times I have had some complete stranger come up to me and say “I am just so pleased to see a parent who knows what they are doing!” or “Your children are so well behaved, good job!”.

I know they mean to compliment me, I get that they mean well, but I am always ticked off by their intrusion.

First of all, if my child is screaming his head off as I desperately drag him from the toy isle at Target it’s not necessarily because of some flaw in my parenting skills. It may simply be a bad day to have gone to Target. Much of my children’s good behavior stems from my ability to tell when taking them somewhere will end horribly, and then avoiding the trip. Some trips can’t be avoided, and even the most “perfect” parent will have to shoulder hoist their kids and race from the store in shame eventually.

Secondly, if my child is well behaved when you see them, your compliment to me feels like a derisive criticism of the poor parent whose kid melted down in the Barbie aisle when she was told she didn’t need another pink sparkling tiara. I don’t want to join you in criticizing that parent.  The only difference between her and me is luck. I don’t need to add to her already stressful existence by pretending that I am somehow more capable than she is because I managed to avoid the Barbie aisle entirely, or because I was able to make the birthday gift trip on a good nap day, instead of a no nap day.

Parenting is really hard work, and even at the best of times your kids can derail any plans you may have made. Normally quiet children can explode and throw themselves on the floor with little or no warning. You can train your children until you are blue in the face, they will still misbehave somewhere, someday. It’s developmental. It’s brain chemistry. It’s inevitable.

So please don’t thank me for “taking the time to parent my kids.” Most parents take the time to parent their kids. If you simply can’t refrain from comment, try complimenting my children, not me. “You two are behaving so well today!” would do the trick. After all, they are the ones who aren’t screaming on the floor, they deserve the praise. Better yet, show my kids how to behave and go ask the parent with the screamer if you can carry a bag for them, or open a door.

Show them some support, be a part of their village, and don’t judge.

Imposed…

In an attempt to motivate myself I hung my ridiculously over-sized law degree over my desk this morning. As I straightened the edges of it’s gold, imposing frame, I was certain it would remind me how amazing I am and help me find the perfect job. If I saw it on some other professional’s wall I would think “Gee! That person is really, really smart! I want to hire them!”

Unfortunately it is not making me think that I am particularly smart. It is making me hop up every few minutes to insure the hanger is secure so the whole thing doesn’t come crashing down onto my monitor and soon to be outdated laptop.

Instead of inspiring me, it’s looming over me, reminding me that I should be doing so much more than I am. After all, how can someone with a degree that large choose to stay at home or save some random species? Shouldn’t I be trying to negotiate peace in the Middle East by now? What am I doing making cookies, changing diapers, and protecting frogs!?

Maybe I should hang it in the bathroom, though I would hate to think what inequities would be uncovered in there.