Recently, I read Hand Wash Cold by Karen Maezen Miller.  I think it will become one of those books that affects my life in a profound way and influences how I see the world – one of those books that continues to help me grow and one to which I refer back often to find perspective.

There are a few things that jumped out at me while reading Hand Wash Cold.  There are so many things that I’d like to write about and share, but I am not going to try to fit it all into one post.  I will focus on one thing at a time.

In chapter 10, Karen tells a story about a talk she was giving at her Zen centre “about the extraordinary challenges of parenting.”   As the discussion about how it’s the most difficult job in the world “wound on and on,” her teacher said,

“Even monkeys can raise their young!”

Wow, isn’t that the brutal truth?  Monkeys raise their young.  Many animals do and have been for millions of years, and humans for roughly 200 000 of those years.  We have been raising our young for hundreds of thousands of years.

So, why is it so hard?

It seems to me that we complicate it and make it harder than it needs to be – as individual parents and as a society.  We place so much emphasis on the expectations we have of our children, especially of their behaviour and their development.  We have theories and strategies for discipline, potty learning, sleeping, routine.  We have attachment parenting.  We have free range parenting.  We have lactivism and intactivism.  We have flash cards and sign language.  We have educational programs for infants and wait lists for high priced preschools.

I can’t help but feel that much of it places undo stress on parents and children.

Have we, as a species, so far removed ourselves from our environment and the world that we don’t sense our instincts, much less trust them?  It seems that we have forgotten how to breastfeed, how to listen to our babies and read their sleep patterns, evacuation patterns, and needs.  We think a lot, read a lot, and ask a lot of questions when I think that many of our answers lie within us and our relationships with our children.

Maybe I am romanticizing the past and the way humans used to live and operate – the simplicity of being governed by our instincts and tuned into each other and ourselves – like monkeys.  But, it seems like such a simpler way to live.  Easier in the ways ours is difficult and difficult in the ways ours is easier.  So much emphasis is placed on the physical in this world and I can’t imagine it’s always been that way. I can’t imagine that we have always been so detached from our collective spiritual, emotional, and mental states of being.

Not long ago, I was at the Toronto Zoo with Q.  In September 2009, a baby gorilla was born and this was the first time we’d actually gotten a chance to see baby Nassir.  As I watched the mother, I marvelled at how easy she made it all look.  She carried Nassir on her back, her front, in her arms… shifting his position as she moved around.  She nursed him and protected him from the male gorillas who got too close.  The fluidity of it amazed me.  She knew what to do and she just did it.  The baby gorilla was an extension of her – far from the centre of attention, yet influencing her actions.

To me, it seemed that this gorilla had it down pat.  I envied her as I preoccupied my mind with where Q was, what he was touching and how dirty it was, when he’d last eaten and if he’d had enough veggies, how tired he was, whether I should give him a soother in public when he is only supposed to get it in his bed… countless considerations and concerns.

I don’t want to live Q’s life thinking that parenting him is the most difficult job in the world.  If I approach it that way, it surely will be.  I want parenting him to be the most rewarding job in the world.  The most important job in the world.  Sure there will be challenges, but I wonder how many are of my own making.

Since he was an infant, I believed that I needed to trust my instincts in caring for him.  It shouldn’t be so hard to do, though.  It seems to me that it should almost be automatic.  If it feels right, chances are it is. But, my instincts conflicted with the advice I was getting, what the experts were saying, and what other parents were doing. So, I struggled.

Maybe, just maybe, we can learn a thing or two from gorilla mamas.

This is not baby Nassir, but a baby gorilla and mama from Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle. I chose this video because it best illustrates the interaction I saw that day between Nassir and his mama, Ngozi.

What do you think? Is parenting the most difficult job in the world? If so, is it because we make it so?

I am a why person. I guess I never out-grew that as a child.  Maybe it was because my parents never discouraged why, why, why? In fact, they encouraged it.  When we were old enough to read, my parents told us to “look it up,” which led to a love of reading (and stacks of encyclopedias in our bedrooms that served as bedtime stories).

I think that as adults, our focus shifts from why to how.

We feel the need to fix things and improve situations but don’t fully examine why the situation exists in the first place.  I like to strip problems down to their cores – that is how I operate in my personal and professional lives.  If you ask why enough times, eventually you get to the root of the problem.  Often though, the root is so hard to fix and we’d rather bury it in band-aids.

I have noticed this more since I’ve become a mother.  There are so many people telling us how, but so few telling us why.  We get so preoccupied with how to parent, we forget why we parent.

Why do we parent?

When I step back and think about why I parent, I do a better job.  I listen better.  I hear better.  I show more respect.  I am more patient.

My son depends on us for so many things, but he is not ours.  He is not a possession or a toy or an experiment.  He is a human being.  Just like me.  He deserves the same amount of respect that I would offer any adult.  If he is tired, he sleeps.  If he is hungry, he eats.  If he is crying, he is comforted.

I parent because I am responsible for him, his life, his happiness, his sense of security, his sense of worth, his safety, his well-being.
I parent because I want my son to treat others with kindness and respect.
I parent because maybe, just maybe, through him I can add something of value to this world I know.  I can know that I have made every effort through him to make this world a better place – just by him being a part of it.

There are so many people who are quick to tell me how to parent – what I should be doing and the right way to do it.  I am not really interested.  I don’t dwell on sleep schedules and eating routines – he knows his needs and he will make them known.   He is the expert on him.  I will trust his instincts as well as my own.

No, I want to focus my energy on teaching him, doing things with him, and just being with him.

Once I figure out the why, the how will follow.

Why do you parent?

If I was being paid for this job, I’m pretty sure I would have been fired by now.

I am a SAHM (stay at home mom).  The job description is pretty extensive and the rewards are the opposite of monetary.  I do love being a SAHM and spending time with my son – in fact, I am hard pressed to think of anything I’d rather do with my days.

I have the mom-thing down pretty well by now.  I am confident that I am doing a good job in that department (aside from the fact that he is sitting in his highchair, eating crackers and watching TV while I write this).  Q is excelling in his fine & gross motor, language, and social skills.  He is friendly, active and extremely good-natured.

No, the M in SAHM would not get me fired… but, the H might do me in.

Home.  I hate doing housework.  I do not keep up with dishes, laundry, vacuuming, tidying, sweeping, wiping, dusting (what is that), putting things away, making phone calls to get things done around the house, running errands, grocery shopping, cooking… the list is endless and my motivation, minimal.

Don’t get me wrong… I love, love having a clean, organized house.  It clears my head and makes me feel more peaceful.  The problem is getting it in that state and then keeping it there.

Right now as I scan my living space, I see a pile of dishes, clothes on the living room floor, toys strewn everywhere, and visible crumbs on a carpet that I could have sworn I vacuumed only yesterday (in fact, the vacuum is still parked in view as evidence).

So, here I sit thinking about the piles of clean laundry in our bedroom that desperately need to be put away, the bathrooms that need my attention, the garbage that is less than fragrant, the kitchen table that still dons a Christmas tablecloth, and the computer room  that is currently doubling as a storage area.

Thinking about it just makes me wanna take a nap.  Ugh.

Dear Evolutionary Process,

Teething is a design flaw.  When you have a free minute, I implore you to review it and consider some changes.  As  much as I can appreciate the value of teeth and the role they have played in survival of the fittest, I fail to see the benefit of subjecting babies to the pain of 20 hard, sharp objects cutting through their tender gums during the first 2 years of life.

I’m not sure that babies being born with teeth is the answer, but I am sure that with your infinite creativity, you can come up with something that I cannot even imagine.  However, if you decide that being born with teeth is the best option, I have some humble recommendations for you to consider:

• please have the in utero teething process painless (c’mon, I know you can do that).
• please consider our nipples. I am sure that mothers to come would appreciate a little extra protection, or decreased sensitivity, or something, if they will be nursing newborns with teeth.

I regret having to point out a flaw in our design, but I trust you will consider my humble request for the sake of infants yet to come.

Thank you for your time (and other things – like, opposing thumbs and bipedalism)

Sincerely,
Sarah

Today, we cut Q’s hair.  It needed to be done.  It was hard to manage and it made all our lives miserable to the point that all of us avoided combing it at almost all costs.   He’s not old enough to sit still for braids or cornrows, so we cut it until he can decide what he wants.  It’ll grow back.

When we decided that we were actually going to bite the bullet and cut it (a decision that took many weeks to even consider), my heart started racing and I felt a pang of regret.

I know I’m not the only mom who is super-attached to her child’s hair.  Why do we mothers do that?  Attach ourselves to our children’s hair?  Is it simply because it’s part of them? (but then that should extend to fingernails…)  Maybe we associate their hair with their identity?  For Q, this was a huge factor, actually.  His hair had political and cultural significance.

We mothers will let our children’s hair hang in their eyes.  We’ll let it grow so that it takes 20 minutes and countless tears to brush.  We’ll let it grow in uneven and all different lengths.  But, we never wanna cut.  Often, it doesn’t even look good!

We don’t grow our children’s hair for their sake, so why do we do it?  It really is a mystery to me…

Dear Q,

If you ever become a parent, parent your children.  Be there.  Listen.  Learn who they are and what they need.  Sit back and listen to them.  Intently.  Trust their instincts.

Trust your instincts above anything you hear, read, or have been told.  Ignore those who judge you – it’s not about them; it’s about you and your family.

When in doubt, love.

Love always,
Mom

So, my last employment contract ended almost a month ago.  Ever since, I’ve been a Stay At Home Mom.   However, for a stay-at-home-mom, I somehow manage to hardly ever stay home!

Although I hope to be promoted to a WAHM (work at home mom), I am relishing this guilt-free time at home with my son.  This is the best job I’ve ever had!  It’s challenging, but I prefer to be the one navigating the challenges.

My days are completely different than when I was working.  No day is the same and each is an adventure in its own way.  We decide, together, what we will be doing.  I sometimes pretend that I am in control, but it’s a collaborative effort; my plans can easily be derailed by a bad mood, fever, or extra long nap.

I take my job very seriously.  It’s a hefty job description (for which few would qualify if we needed to apply).  I have been entrusted to:

• create and maintain a clean, healthy, safe, and comfortable environment and shelter
• provide healthy nourishment, health care, and medical attention
• teach an impressionable mind (which often seems to resemble a sponge) to: speak, walk, go potty, eat, play, bathe, discern right from wrong, respect, love, colour, draw… the list is endless and will keep growing – read, write, DRIVE. ack!
• nurture, love, and encourage the growth of a kind, respectful, and considerate inhabitant of this world in which we live

It’s a tall order, let me tell you.  But, I embrace it – although I do struggle with the clean environment part. I’m not exactly a domestic goddess .

The rewards are beyond measure and I am so grateful for the opportunity to be a mother and spend my days with this human being who just may be teaching me more than I am him.

Soon after my son was born, I wrote this post.  At the time, I was paranoid about breaking him and screwing him up.  I have since realized that I most certainly will screw him up, as all parents do.  I’ve come to terms with that and decided that all I can do is my best to raise a healthy, well-rounded, open-minded child.   His father and I will make mistakes and I will do my best not to wrap myself in guilt over it.  That doesn’t help anyone.

At some point in his first year of life, I decided that we (his father and I) know what is best for him and our family.  That said, we do our best to make child-rearing decisions ourselves and try not to get too caught up in external influences – family members, other parents, or “experts.”  The only expert on my kid is my kid – we are the next best thing.

So many mothers seem to stress out about doing it right and doing what they are supposed to do.  In so doing, many of them don’t listen to their instincts and really get wrapped up in how to parent instead of why we parent.  Then, they seem to end up wishing that they had just listened to their baby.

My son has a pretty consistent self-imposed schedule – naps, bedtime, eating.  Once I learned to listen to him, I realized that his instincts and his body let him know what he needs.  I can set a clock by his sleep patterns.  That said, I let him sleep when he’s tired and eat when he’s hungry (even if it falls out of his regular schedule).  My take is that he is a human (as am I) and who am I to dictate when he should be tired and hungry.  I need to give him the credit he deserves and realize that he knows better than anyone what his needs are.

Now, I am not saying that he runs around all willy-nilly doing whatever he wants and running the household.  All I am saying is that when it comes to meeting his needs, it’s a collaborative effort among him, me, and his father.

I guess the point is that it is all about balance.  Rigidity in any way does not work for him – rigid schedule, or active avoidance of one.

I am blessed with an awesome, easy-going, chilled-out kid.  He is non-stop and always on the move, but he is adaptable and laid back.  Maybe I am just lucky and the next one will prove me wrong.  Either way,  I don’t believe I can go horribly wrong by trusting my instincts and listening to my baby and really getting to know him and letting him express his own needs – when he needs them.

I am not out to judge how anyone else parents – not any more that I seek to have others judge how I parent.  However, what works for us, works for us.

This world I know makes less and less sense to me as I negotiate through it as a mother.   I live in a world that is inherently flawed and thoroughly unnatural.  I have become increasingly aware of this as I try to reconcile working and mothering.  Working has forced me  to relinquish control of how much time I spend with my son, which conflicts with every maternal instinct I have.  Often, our human arrogance prevents us from viewing ourselves as animals, but the fact remains that we are.  We are mammals who, by nature, nurture our young.  So, of course I feel like I should be with my son, nurturing him and raising him, teaching him, and loving him.

The priorities of this world I know are so skewed, that money is valued over children, and parents have to chose between providing for their children and parenting them.