Fact: I have the coolest shit.

My friend Beth is the best aunt to Hazel. Elizabeth Cutler is this classy broad who lives and breathes fashion in New York and when she couldn’t make it to my (Seattle) baby shower, she, of course, sent the best gift.

The ubiquitous, yet so-fancy-we’d-never-buy-it-for-ourselves Beaba baby food maker (steamer, food processor and storage all in one) arrived just in time for my shower and I had ambitious dreams of making all my baby food from scratch.

I did and do love my baby food maker. Although, that’s not what I want to talk about. The whole thing came with an individual portion freezer storage container (bpa free, natch) and it is awesome. I use it as a snack holder. It’s a beautiful bright green, has room for a few different things to carry, isn’t too big for my bag and makes it easy to tell how much Hazel ate (which is helpful for us since her doc sometimes asks for a food log). I took it to a toddler class at Birth and Beyond and the babies DESCENDED upon me when they saw how awesome our snacks looked. 

THEN. My neighbor, who is a busy naturopathic student with an 8 month old and also a lover of the planet, sent me a link to the Beaba Babypote which she was thinking of using to replace all those pouches (ella, plum, peter rabbit, earth’s best) that everyone uses. Let’s take a moment and thank God for those pouches. They are a freaking miracle and make so many moms’ lives easier. They keep forever, don’t have to be refrigerated until opened, are so tidy, can be quickly eaten, are all organic(inside)/bpa free(outside) and mix apples into everything so it’s all sweet and delicious and tricks our children into eating spinach.

Anyway, I bought a BEABA “Babypote“ with my Amazon Mom Prime (you should all have Amazon Mom if you don’t already) and it is the best! It’s small but poufs up to hold a lot of food if I want it to, it’s easy for Hazel to use herself, easy to clean and, best of all, I can make my own blends that haven’t been sitting on a shelf for months – or, what I really want, some blends that aren’t sweet. Hazel sat down to read some books this afternoon and sucked down a cup of hummus from this bad boy. Mama is sold.

I recommend it. The pouches you get at the grocery store are convenient and tidy, but also expensive and non-recyclable. I implore you to give this thing a shot. You could blend up a big vat of something on the weekend and just squeeze it into your reusable container throughout the week. Consider it? Save the planet a little?

Beaba didn’t pay me anything to write this. (I wish!)

And when I say “sleep through the night”, I don’t mean the 5 consecutive hours that counts for a newborn. I mean, like, through. the. night. I’d put her to bed around 8, wake her up to nurse around 10 or 11 and then she slept until 7 or 8 in the morning. Heaven. It lasted until her 4 month birthday. Not nearly long enough.

Then, she got all busy and stuff and what with learning to roll, sit, walk and getting teeth, there was a lot of night waking. It’s such a tired topic (aha! see what I did there?) that I won’t revisit the exact schedule but let’s just say I was tired, the husband was tired, the dog was tired and it was hard for all of us.

I went to First Weeks, then Next Months. I read all the books. I went to two sleep seminars. I consulted with a sleep (and parenting – because it was less about Hazel’s sleep patterns and more about me dealing with them) coach. And I struggled, I really did. I worried that she was learning bad habits, that she would never figure out how to sleep more and that I would be tired and impatient and irritable forever. Because your brain doesn’t work right when you’re that tired and you can’t see past your own nose.

What I wish I had heard somewhere – anywhere* – during that hard time was that “bad” sleep by babies is not necessarily something that either you or your baby is doing wrong. It is, in fact, a normal, developmentally appropriate rhythm that all babies will eventually grow out of. How quickly they grow out of it and how long you can wait are different questions altogether but no one wakes up all night long their whole life.

And, of course, I can only see this now with the help of hindsight and better sleep, but exhaustion and night waking were, truly, just a season at our house. (A season of life, not just one yearly season.) Hazel is recently 14 months and she sleeps. Not straight through the night every night but pretty close. We both wake up feeling rested and she takes predictable naps. And I didn’t do anything to make it happen, she just grew into it like she grew into her 2T leggings. She sleeps in our bed, snuggled up next to me and I am happy she’s there.

I struggled with the idea of sleep training because it just felt wrong. Like, deep deep in my heart of hearts I couldn’t go through with it. And, I hadn’t really hit my proverbial wall yet. I want to be careful here because I am deeply committed to supporting parents through their journey – wherever it takes them. I do not want anyone to read this and feel even the tiniest tinge of regret because they did sleep train or do cry-it-out. That is the farthest thing from my intention. We all find our own way. We all make the best choices for our individual selves, babies and families.

Let me be very clear – I do not think that sleep training is inherently wrong. I think that parents need to fill their own glasses before they can pour anything out into their children and I was not working outside the home or caring for twins or any of the other myriad reasons a mother (or father) might put their foot down and say, “That’s it, baby. It’s time, whether you like it or not.” If you have hit your wall, by all means, get that kid to sleep.

And I was almost almost there myself. I doubted my choices so much, so often. Hazel slept in our bed and I even bought a crib that I used for a month when she was 9 months. I thought that maybe cosleeping was a bad decision, that she woke because she was in the bed. I worried about nursing at night – that it was a reason to wake so she was waking more often and that it would rot her teeth. But I got the most sleep when I rolled over, nursed her back down and went right back to sleep myself and over time, the number of times she did that every night became less and less. So I kept doing it and she kept sleeping.

I have to say something here, in this big, public forum, and hope some mom who is tired and searching will find it and be comforted, or make a choice that she wants to make and that feels right to her but that she is scared to commit to. Because I wish that I had found it when I was wavering: you don’t have to sleep train. It is not an eventuality. Crying it out doesn’t have to be the answer. (Again, if it was for you, cool. No judgement. Really. See: that stuff above about hitting your wall.)

My philosophy on parenting is very simple. It is this: I am here for you. If I am alive and physically able, I will be here for you, no matter what, forever. Even if I am pissed at you**, even if I don’t understand your need or it feels small or insignificant to me, even if – especially if – it’s the middle of the night***.

I am so so glad, over a year out, that I responded to my daughter through the night, every time, every night and that she grew into her sleep on her own. I feel so good knowing that I was there for her and, also, so very relieved that eventually she started to sleep because I don’t know how long I could have lasted. And I feel so incredibly settled, so confident in the notion that I will raise the next baby the same way. I know now that the tunnel ends and the sun is shining out there and so much of it is just a matter of waiting. So, wait I will, and fret I will not****.

*This was the closest thing I found. And it is lovely and worth reading.

**It WILL happen. It DID happen some of those nights, I’m not gonna lie. I mean, remember this?

***I am NOT about to do one of those, “I’m an attachment parent and that’s why my child has nice qualities. See? Because I nurse her all the damn time and wear her in a sling she’ll go sit with anyone, she’s so secure and confident because I’M a supreme parent!! I had a home birth and the lights were off when she came out so she’s mellow and cool”. You know why? Because kids are who they are and I truly believe all the kids will be fine, regardless of how they are parented at night or whether or not they are breastfed. You ask any parent of more than one child and they will tell you that their children are different: same parents, same parenting, different personalities in their kids. This is about my relationship to my own motherhood and my side of the equation, not the type of child I produced. She’s her own little person.

****I said it in my bio and I meant it, I am willing to talk to anyone, any time, about their lack of sleep, their nighttime plan, their weighing of options or their frustrated pleas for assistance. Not to boss you around, just to listen. Because sometimes just knowing someone is there and with you makes all the difference. You can get in touch with me if you want. Seriously.

My first awareness of Mother’s Day involved presenting some picked flowers and a crayoned picture to my Mom. Growing up, it just became the day that we should appreciate, pamper and spoil Mom. It later became clear to me that this sacred day of thanking our Mothers had evolved into a marketing ploy by greeting card companies and florists to sell more of their product – cynical, I know. Sure, sounds easy enough – put celebrating our Moms on the calendar so we remember to do it once a year – check. Ugh. Despite my frustration with this commercialized Mom-opoly of a holiday, it was still worth buying into, saying thank you to the woman who raised me and greatly shaped the person I am today.

So, how do we celebrate Mother’s Day? Of course, companies tell us what we should do or buy for Mom. Other people influence us, too. Some ask Mom directly what she wants for Mother’s Day. There are as many answers as there are Moms, and that’s ok. Some will take what the advertisers suggest. Others might keep a running list of ideas handy – breakfast in bed, a cook & maid service for a day, to be queen/star for a day, someone to remove her entire family from the premises for a day so she can simply be left alone to garden or do whatever else she pleases in blissful silence without being interrupted – no, I’m not (necessarily) dropping hints here. Is there a box to check all of the above, please? That would be great, thanks. I’ve found every Mother’s Day experience to be different from year to year. Personally, I like a nice surprise once in a while. Because I’m the Mom, I’m the default Cruise Director of this Love Boat. I organize it, line it up and knock it out of the park – well, it’s a decent average on most days, anyway. On Mother’s Day, I list several activities as options I would like, then hold on and enjoy the ride.

Gratitude and Appreciation for our Mothers
I don’t know any Mom who will say becoming a Mother has not altered their outlook on life in some way. It certainly changed my perspective on so many things, including how I saw my own mother. I now better understand her words and actions, her motivations and decisions. And I am so grateful. Mom’s words don’t always sink in, especially when you’re seven years old and certain that absolutely every kid in the neighborhood is getting a treat from the ice cream truck EXCEPT you because Mom said no. Or when you’re 15 years old and know for a fact (complete with ‘tude and eye-roll) that you are perfectly capable of living your day, your way, without filling your parents in on the details, yet you are mulling this over in your room while serving a week-long grounding from Mom that feels like an eternity. Well, if I didn’t before, I finally got it. She would say, “Someday you’ll understand, maybe it won’t be until you become a Mom, but you’ll understand eventually.” She was so right.  I also freely admit to wishing I could fire a shotgun in the air each time an ice cream truck drives through our neighborhood blaring its incessant, cringe-evoking music through mounted bullhorn, requiring yet another explanation to my oldest child why their product is not worth buying or eating.

Gratitude and Appreciation from our Children
It occurred to me that even my youngest children, twins who are just over a year old, already know how to say ‘Thanks Mom, I love you’ if I listen carefully enough.  At any age, these messages are not always conveyed with words but sometimes instead with gestures, like the recent gesture of gratitude and appreciation from my son. One day after finishing a usual breastfeeding session, he sat up with the goofiest, milk-dripping, emerging-toothed grin on his sweet little face, gave a contented sigh and exhaled with a squeak, ‘gah-gaaaahhh’. At this point, my entire being was a puddle of sappy, adoring mush. And then I looked down. On my nursing bosom, he had left an impression of his little hand, an outline of his firm grip on a delicious snack. As if his smile wasn’t enough, I took the handprint as an overt symbol of his gratitude and appreciation for me, for his mama. I know: ‘it’s the milk, stupid’. You’re thinking, ‘ow, doesn’t that hurt?’ The answer is no, not really, it’s usually gentle and makes the milk let-down faster for him. I am blessed that he has always been a happy and eager nurser, but this time it was different somehow. I took it as a little bit of awesome, so kudos and happy early Mother’s Day to me!

Gratitude and Appreciation from our partners and family
Adjusting to life with a baby can make anyone appreciate the primary person (usually a Mom but sometimes a Dad – one love, yo) who keeps baby healthy, happy, safe, warm and quiet. Yep, I said it – quiet. Among other things, Dads miss sleep. A lot. They are grateful when the sleep starts to return after welcoming a newborn into the family. Don’t get me wrong, Moms miss their sleep too, but women have a (hormonal or other super-natural) ability to be more easily conditioned to less sleep for the care and well-being of their offspring – at least this is the theory in my house, aside from the superhero cape with a giant ‘MOM’ on the back. Yep, I said that, too. Dads and partners are grateful for sleep and much, much more. We hear about it when they say thank you for all the things they notice, big or small. I’d say appreciation from partners falls into that ‘doesn’t-just-fit-into-one-day’ category. Friends and family are also sources of support, gratitude and compliments for our hard work as Moms. ‘Your son is so considerate!’ from a girlfriend or ‘Your daughter is so helpful’ from the preschool teacher or ‘You are such a good mama!’ from the neighbor – all of these should be translated as ‘Lady, you rock. Have an awesome Mother’s Day because you are an awesome Mom!’

Gratitude and Appreciation for Ourselves
My own transition into Motherhood offered a whole new view for me on this Mother’s Day thingy. On my first Mother’s Day, I blushed when people wished me well. Baby in arms, I beamed a proud smile and let the compliments come. I had arrived! I was part of the largest sorority in the world and rush week was spread out over nine+ months, with the Grand Hazing crammed into a 27-hour induced labor – woohoo! Despite it all, I had made it; I finally belonged to this amazing sisterhood. I now appreciate all I do for my family in a whole new light. Who could have explained to me in advance, the tide-like swing of challenges and experiences Motherhood would bring? From the ‘seemingly-impossible-how-will-I/we-survive’ times to the ‘this-is-so-awesome-I-love-being-a-mom’ times, I have learned to appreciate myself and my family, not to mention a startling variety of my cunningly adaptive coping skills.

Gratitude and Appreciation from Other Moms
There is gratitude and appreciation that other Moms, even complete strangers, show us every day. The support we find in each other is a form of gratitude and appreciation. I will never forget an older woman who approached me while I wore my baby on a front pack in the depths of my 4-week-old, post-partum ‘what-now-blurry-eyed-silent-tear-fest’ I had going in front of the iceberg lettuce display at my local grocery store. She said with a grandmotherly arm squeeze and smile, ‘You are a good mama!’ Oh, the tears of relief! Finally, someone said good job – and they don’t even know me! Apparently, I needed that appreciation. So many of us do, and we deserve it.

Listen Sister (as in, sister of that awesome sorority, Nowa-Baby-Momma): if you aren’t grateful for the amazing woman and Mother that you are, it’s high time you started showing that chic in the mirror some love. I appreciate and am grateful for you. You are helping shape future citizens of the world, people my kids will grow up with, maybe befriend or become neighbors with, go to school or work with. It’s not just very important work, it is critical work. Now if only society-at-large, mainstream media and the commercial sectors would catch on.

Until then, we may just have to give ourselves and each other that gold star every day, be ready to see gratitude and appreciation in the littlest things, and to enjoy one adventure-filled day at a time. I celebrate Mother’s Day because I am grateful for my Mom, grateful for my family – the reason I am called a Mom – but darn if I don’t love receiving some flowers and a crayon drawing from my little ones.

So, thank you, Moms. I hope you have a very Happy Mother’s Day.

Time Magazine, what were you thinking?

It all started this morning when my friend and beloved lactation consultant, Emily, at Seattle Breastfeeding Medicine and La Leche League, called to ask if I wanted to speak on camera again about a woman’s right to breastfeed. We have both recently been on the news explaining our take on nursing in public and legislating protection of breastfeeding mothers. 

I was all, “Nah, man. I woke up at 5 am with Hazel this morning and probably couldn’t string together a full sentence, plus I have a zit. You do it”. We got together afterward at the park (childless! both of us!) and drank coffee. Little did I know what the internetz were up to while I caught up with my friend.

Then, I saw this and this and this. (Please click and read all of those links. Truly. They are all worth it.) And I was like, “Oh man, gonna have to write about this on Moms Alive. Because I have one thing to say.”

This is that one thing: GET OUT OF MY BUSINESS.

We frame the breastfeeding in public debate (and all it’s ancillary subtopics: “extended breastfeeding”, nursing without a cover, tandem nursing, etc.) as if it were mothers who choose to breastfeed against the rest of the world – teenage boys, mothers who don’t breastfeed, kindly old grandmothers, whatever. Like they are exposing themselves as inappropriate exhibitionists in order to make everyone else look at their boobs.

Well, guess what? The feeding of my baby, regardless of her age, has nothing to do with you. So maybe you should stop talking about it. Stop discriminating against me. Stop punishing my child for your bigotry and intolerance.

I, too, once said, “when a kid can ask for it, they’re too old to breastfeed” – back when I was an ignorant, childless middle schooler. But now I say to those who still repeat this tired old phrase: Why? Like, seriously, have you ever actually thought about that? The benefits of “extended” nursing* are plentiful. So why stop just because your child can communicate? My daughter was signing for milk at 10 months. Should I have stopped nursing her, even though the AAP recommends nursing at least to 1 year? Even though she couldn’t eat table food and I would have had to switch her to formula when I had perfectly good (free) milk for her? That’s dumb.

We look at the woman on the Time cover and, probably 80%, just because she’s hot, get uncomfortable. She is sexualizing her son (as if you could force a child to nurse…), sexualizing breastfeeding by nature of the fact that she is hot (not her fault) and that she happened to have a son (also not her fault), throwing her holier than thou (hence the title: “Are You Mother Enough”) attachment parenting in your face.

She may well be doing all those things – she did pose for this cover – but so may some individuals in any segment of the population. The vast majority of women nursing toddlers, or, GASP, preschoolers(!!!!!), are not doing it for you. Or to you. Or at you. They aren’t trying to make you uncomfortable. They aren’t trying to say that you’re a bad mother because your baby weaned at 6 months or a year or 2 years. Breastfeeding is a relationship between two people and both people – mother and child – have to want to do it for it to work. Trust, all nursing dyads are an A, B conversation. C your way out.

And guess what? For y’all who don’t have kids, 4 year olds aren’t newborns. They don’t nurse for an hour 15 times a day. The majority of preschoolers who are still nursing do so one or two times a day – often just before bed or on waking so you’ll never see it. I’m no statistician but I’d say it’s very rare they they nurse during the day, when you’re around, standing on a chair, looking at you. If your argument is that you don’t want to see it, my response is, you aren’t. Except on this ridiculous magazine’s cover.

But even when they do nurse in public, it’s STILL none of your business. Like, why do you care? And, this “Are You Mom Enough” business? Like somehow nursing into preschool makes you more of a mother?  Please. Y’all need to shut up, too. We are all mothers! Equally!

Dear Time Magazine – Stop pitting mothers against each other. This mess is insidious, negative and antagonistic. And I’m not having any of it. 

*I keep putting that in quotes because letting a child wean themselves, which they ALL WILL DO (likely sometime between 2-5 years old), is normal and natural and calling that process “extended” is ridiculous. The World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding for AT LEAST 2 years.

My experiences looked a little different than the image you put on your cover- I don’t have the body of a 26-year-old anymore, and nursing my toddler only involved a chair, if it was for me to put my fanny in. But you know what, Jamie Lynne Grumet is definitely mom enough. And so am I. If you’re reading this, I bet you are, too.

You see, I really believe that regardless of how much the media tries to sell us on The Mommy Wars, deep down, I think it’s all just a way to undermine our self-confidence. But you know what? You are mom enough! You are the perfect mom for your child. I don’t need a magazine to tell me which parenting style is best for my family or to try to guilt me about whether I did or didn’t breastfeed. Or co-sleep. Or stay home. Or paint my kid’s face blue. Not that these things aren’t important- they certainly are, and I have my opinions on parenting styles and face paint colors, of course.

Unfortunately, I think too many of us buy in to this myth that there is some perfect mom out there somewhere- the mom that we should be. Sure, I aspire to magically turn into the perfect mom- who holds down a full-time job, cooks a homemade meal every night, keeps the house clean, makes sure the kids brush their teeth, reads them the requisite stories before bed, gets them to bed at 8 p.m. on the dot where they magically stay until 8 a.m., so that Magical Mom has enough time to perfect her needlework and take a 15-minute shower in the morning without interruption. I haven’t met that mom yet. On a good day, I might accomplish three of those things. And I admit, I’m not sure whether I should be proud or embarrassed.

That’s the point where this media myth starts to swirl into my subconscious and make me feel like a terrible mom. But you know what? I’m not. I don’t think most of us are, barring the obvious abuse and neglect. You know what doesn’t constitute neglect? Forgetting to read the kids books every night! Or deciding not to breastfeed a toddler. It’s ok to give birth in a hospital, or at home, or to not give birth at all! Regardless of whether you adopt or get an epidural or schedule a c-section; vaccinate or go to a pox party- whatever choices you make, as long as they are the right choices for you and your family, they are the right choices. Hang in there, mamas!

Remember, you are mom enough. You are!

Whether it’s a political molehill coaxed into a mountain by both sides, a decaying magazine objectifying attachment parenting, or all of the men who made the primary about our reproductive choices, the thing that makes me maddest of all is our reaction.

When they attack us, we moms always take the bait. We strike out against other women and we entrench like hell. And honestly, ladies, don’t we have enough to do, whether we work an 80- 90- or 100-hour workweek? It’s really not my business whether Ann Romney worked hard as a mom, or whether Jamie Lynne Grumet should still be nursing her 3-year-old. Should I really be gawking at some poor teen mom, or some woman who really didn’t know she was pregnant until she pushed out the baby?

Honestly, we should be giving props to anyone who has the guts to publicly discuss any aspect of her mothering style in this culture of vultures. We should be linking arms against those who try to push us down out of boredom, anger or self-promotion. Against those who have no interest in seeing who we are, hearing what we say, or valuing what we do.

We are right to be mad as hell. It’s demeaning that we always find our sacrifices and struggles reduced to a talking point, a punch line, a quick pitstop on the road to bigger things.

Mothering isn’t something that’s done on the margins of society, our choices some subversive act worthy of ridicule. It’s offensive that once the fine-tooth comb finishes sweeping over all of our flaws, the focus immediately shifts to somebody else’s “baby bump,” public nursing snafu or how weird it is that January Jones ingested her placenta.

Um, guys, while we’re on the topic of whether mothering is real work, could we talk about how few women receive compensation while on maternity leave? Or why our maternal death rates are higher than Bulgaria’s? Hello? Guys? 

Motherhood is wrenching and glorious and mothers are complicated, nuanced beings. What we’re doing is worthy of serious consideration even if you think you might disagree with us. Especially if you think you might disagree with us. The next time I see another woman’s mothering style being used as a sacrificial lamb to some lesser cause, even if her parenting style is the polar opposite of my own, I’m speaking up.

It’s not funny, it’s not freakish and I don’t care of she’s an M you’d LF. She’s worth more than that. We all are.

Then, a nice lady at PEPS wrote me an email because she saw my post and asked if I could give her some feedback. And then I realized what a jerk I am. I am such a jerk.

I am also a vehement supporter of nursing in public - any way a mama chooses – and didn’t feel that that was supported by my PEPS leader. But dictating the way a mother nurses her baby is far from PEPS’ mission and is not part of their program. Straight from the horse’s mouth, “We really want all parents to feel welcome in a PEPS Group and our mission is to get parents together to share information and provide support to one another, so anything we can do to improve that is important to us!”

For a long time, I had issues with feeding my baby. Anyone who has had trouble feeding their baby, regardless the reason, will tell you that it makes you crazy. At a time when I needed enthusiastic, unconditional support and encouragement in what felt like the impossible task of getting milk into my baby, I didn’t get it in my particular PEPS group. But that was as much my own perception and sensitivity as it was anything that happened in the group. I ended up not continuing PEPS for several reasons. We just weren’t a good match.

Let me be clear. PEPS is rad. I have recommended PEPS to every single client I have ever worked with and I have never had anyone tell me they didn’t love it. Parents meet other parents in PEPS that come to be their best friends. There are PEPS groups with teenagers who are still regularly meeting. Let me say it here, on the record, if you have a baby, you should do PEPS.

I’m sorry, PEPS. 

There, gracing the cover and looking as fabulous as ever, were Angelina and Brad.  I admit this pair fascinates me like, I assume, most Americans (and maybe even most humans).  At the same time, I feel nothing in common with these people what so ever.  Did that stop me from reading and thoroughly enjoying the juicy article regarding their surprising engagement?  Come on now.

I poured through the details of their relationship:  multiple foreign adoptions, world travel with 6 small children, owning estates in multiple countries, a million dollar engagement ring.  I could not feel more distanced from these people.  In answer to the question as to why now was the time to get married, a source described how the pair felt “that the family have settled into a genuine comfort zone as they emerge from the foggy infant-rearing years.”  This sentence stopped me in my reading tracks.

Hold up.  Brangelina, power couple extraordinaire with endless resources and help thinks the infant rearing years are tough?  I’m not even completely sure why this was such a gratifying revelation for me.  Here I am 10 months post partum feeling like we are slowly emerging from a long, cold, dark winter (literally and figuratively).  I still wonder more often than not if I’m in the minority feeling like the past 10 months were an insane whirlwind out of body (and mind at times) experience albeit the most awe-inspiring and amazing of my life.  Do other people think it’s this hard too?  Am I missing something or doing something wrong here? 

I know this is ridiculous, but for some reason, to hear that these two people who appear to have it all put together in all aspects of their lives (as if I even have any idea who these people are or what their lives are like at all) also felt the chaotic blur of infant rearing makes me sigh with relief.  Whew.  It’s not just me.  It really is hard.  And with that revelation behind me, I can now return my attention to the article and to the more pressing issue of which famous designer will design her wedding dress.

OK I don’t mean to be glib (or insensitive, for that matter) but for some reason the process of choosing a preschool in this day and age has gotten out of hand. Why are we putting so much pressure on ourselves to choose The Perfect Preschool? Why has preschool become the new college? (And not to mention the getting in part! Waitlists! Essays! Interviews! Application fees! And DEAR GOD THE TUITION!)

It seems there are as many options nowadays as there are shampoos in the soap aisle at the grocery store–both of which send me into a mild panic for fear of choosing wrong (except one might give you ugly hair and the other will could of COURSE damage your child, probably irreparably). Montessori? Reggio Emilia? Play-based? Waldorf? Tools of the Mind? Which is the best? Which is the best for my child? Which particular school of this pedagogical nature? Which should *I* probably have done when *I* was a child? (Follow-up thought: If only my parents had LOVED ME ENOUGH to do [X]…)

In exploring options and talking with other parents in my “birth cohort” (as I’ve taken to calling it), I have found it is really easy to get sucked into this mindset of pressure for perfection–that I have to find the perfect environment that will lovingly nurture all the qualities I want my child to possess, preparing her for The Perfect Life of Genius and No Suffering. And yes of course on an intellectual level I want these things for my child. I most certainly want to do my due diligence to find the right school and give her the best I possibly can because I love her more than my life. But as I get drawn into this current of anxiety (OK admittedly I pretty much swim in that current anyway) I have to firmly plant my feet on the ground and say, “Hey, wait a minute! She is TWO. TWO. It’s going to be OK. REALLY.” I liken it to going to Costco and forcing myself to fight the feeling that HOLY SH*T THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING AND I NEED TWELVE CASES OF BEANS IF I’M EVER TO SURVIVE. (Did I mention I run anxious?)

I were to give any advice (unsolicited, as I do) on choosing a preschool, I would say 1) don’t panic; 2) it’s going to be OK, it is just preschool; 3) calmly educate yourself on what’s out there; 4) stay calm; and 5) visit places and see for yourself what feels right. Something could be good on paper but feel wrong when you see it for yourself. For example, I visited a school that seemed great on paper and great as a facility and a modality, BUT when I visited, I saw a teacher belittle a student for having to use the bathroom at a time that was inconvenient to her. Um really? Going to go with “hell to the no” on that one, despite how great it seemed on paper.

I’m sure part of it too is that, in parenting, we are always (whether we mean to or not) projecting our unfulfilled childhood wishes onto our children. Sometimes it is difficult to tease out what we are doing because we think this is the right thing for our child versus what would have been the right thing for us as children.

Which is not to say that I didn’t choose a modality for my daughter that I would have ROCKED as a three year old.

Photo credit, David L. Smith

I mean, sure we all “choose” our family in who we choose to surround ourselves with and build relationships with, but as an adoptee, my family chose me. Obviously they chose well, right? But in all seriousness, it means that I didn’t share much biology with my parents.

I have crazy curly red hair, and my mom coached me as a child to answer the question of “Where did you get your hair?” with an answered “The milkman.” I didn’t get the joke until I was in college. But despite the fact that both of my adoptive grandmothers were redheads, it wasn’t their DNA that informed my hair color. My eldest will never wonder where her curls came from, nor will either girl doubt where they got the shape of their mouth. How strange and different their lives will be, with just that tiny amount of knowledge. 

I feel like I’m cheating sometimes, because I know my own personality and so I realize that I should probably treat my kids the way I would like to be handled. When my oldest gets sad, I usually snuggle her without talking to her, because I don’t really like people talking to me when I’m sad. But then I second-guess myself all the time- is doing what *I* would like to have done really the right option? I hope so! But I don’t know.

In the same way, I didn’t know what to expect with either pregnancy. My mom had shared my struggle with infertility, but she never carried a pregnancy to term, and so after a certain point, I was on my own. I leaned on my mama friends to hear about birth stories, and paid really close attention to the books, but the details of my own birth were pretty much limited to my birth weight and a touch of jaundice, which apparently is genetic and not the result of smoking through pregnancy. Still, I think often about how strange it must be to know that you were born after 40 hours of labor or that your mom had Braxton-Hicks contractions.

I wonder a lot about what it would be like to have all the information my daughters will have, to grow up with the knowledge that they might actually turn into their mother. Yikes! Or, knowing that, no matter how much they might wish that lady in the grocery store was their “real” mom, that in reality, I am for sure, unequivocally, their “real” mom. Bummer, right? Because that was totally a fun game whenever I felt like my parents were being unfair. It’s almost mean for their sakes that they won’t get to wonder and play the games I used to. Being adopted does come with an awful lot of good pieces, like knowing that you are really and truly wanted by your family, that you were never an inconvenient surprise to your parents. Hopefully my children will know that they were much wanted and are much loved either way. But it’s still confusing, because I don’t know how to relate to people I’m related to!

But then, I guess that’s true of parenting in general. None of us really know what we’re doing, right?