I wonder how our parents got the wisdom to raise us. What are the risks they took? How did they arrive at decisions they believed are right for us? I am having to take decisions everyday – not one, several decisions.  Decisions I know can have a big impact on a child’s life, but they come hurling at me at a speed that doesn’t favour serious thinking and research or deep analysis. Gotta make those decisions on the go. I am the Chief Executive of this complex company that my growing toddler is building.

As Myrah moves to her “terrible two” phase, I can see the onslaught coming! My patience is being tested, my anger management skills have to kick in, I have to go to the negotiating table every now and then. How much discipline is good discipline? When does the loving pampering mom give way to the strict parent? At what point should I raise my voice to make a point? When should I stop wondering if I should force her down and shove food down her throat (I must admit there are times when I have had the urge to do that!)? How do I teach her to share, and stop fighting with other kids when they take her stuff? At which age should I insist that she can’t leave the bathroom after eating the paste, instead of brushing her teeth?

Myrah is increasingly developing a mind of her own and is showing (screaming) it too. She can cry at the drop of a hat, throw things around to show displeasure, push and shove to display her anger, turn her face the other side when I look her in the eye with a strict face, refuse to open her mouth to eat, adamantly say no to sitting in her car seat (at which point we have to pretend we are leaving without her!) and prostrate on the ground in protest right in the middle of a parking lot.

I am not sure if there is a right or wrong answer. As parents we have to deal with these situations in the best way possible for us. I have to figure out what is the boundary I want to draw for me and my child, under circumstances that are unique to me. And stick to them. And believe they are the right choices.

Not only does one have to negotiate with the child, one has to navigate the spouse too. Be ready to sharpen your team spirit and willingness to compromise if you and your spouse don’t agree on some of the boundaries. Or you might be the one kicking and screaming in protest! As mothers, women tend to want to handle things in the most ideal way. We want to push ourselves, thinking we can make things perfect.  Men tend to take things more easy, and don’t have the patience to make things perfect. Or maybe they are just more practical. Women keep trying, they don’t give up so easily.

And then there is everybody around you that you have to manoeuvre in the whole process. How much easier would it be if you are the only one managing your child’s behaviour and habits and development! There is the day care, the teachers who guide her most of the day, the family who want to have their say and implement their way, the community we are surrounded with, who naturally have a role in our lives. Each one has a different style and a different perspective.

But, ultimately, you are the CEO. It is your call. Your decisions. Your compromise. Some will turn out to be good, and there will definitely be mistakes. CEOs learn on the job too. You watch, you learn, you take guidance from those who have walked the path before you, you talk to experts.  You form your expectations and design your vision and go about it with a sense of mission. Use your gut, your heart and mind. You toddler is yours to manage.

The reaction my situation evoked in my daughter Myrah was heart warming and thought-provoking at the same time.  The day the event happened, I was in a lot of pain. I could see the anxiety on Myrah’s face as she clung to her dad. In the days that followed immediately, as I sat home with a cast, and used crutches to walk around, it felt like she almost thought of me as a different person. Somebody with appendices to her body - not her mother who would come running to meet her and scoop her up in her arms. Myrah would come back from daycare and refuse to come to me. She wouldn’t let her dad put her down anywhere near me. I felt bad, but knew I had to give her a few days.  

As the days progressed, she slowly started getting used to the situation. After the initial hesitation, she would come near me, although with some trepidation. The first few times her leg touched the cast she would get upset and run away, or look at my leg very strangely! But she started bringing her toys near me and playing with me. However, her frustration at not having me move with her showed itself quite often. She would want me to pick her up and take her somewhere. She would cry, lying on the floor in protest, when I couldn’t. I felt helpless and frustrated.  My husband James had to pay extra care and attention, to make sure she felt safe and secure through it all.

As weeks passed, she became comfortable with the new me! We started playing games sitting down, she found it very exciting that I had to sit down while going up and down the stairs, and we would do that together. She held on to my crutches and walked with me wherever I went. If she sensed I was getting up to go somewhere, she would run and get my crutches for me. She wouldn’t let me walk without her by my side. I knew she delighted in being a part of the whole thing.

Eventually she became my helper – if a toddler can be that. On my requests, she wouldn’t hesitate to fetch me something, put her dirty clothes in the laundry bag, close doors, get me a towel, put things in the garbage can, even try to put cream on my feet! One day when the crutch accidentally fell on my broken foot, and I let out a small ouch, she came running, sat down and started patting my foot, while giving me loving glances. My heart melted!

I sensed that she took delight in helping me, in sharing my pain and being a part of my misery. There were times she felt unsure and anxious, and needed more attention, and assurance that it was ok for mommy to be like this. That her world will not collapse because of this. She needed to see that her safety net was still intact, and that all her needs would still be met. But I watched that fear and concern turn into loving, caring, helping, joyful moments.

I guess this is what they call the joys of motherhood.

In India, where I come from, breastfeeding is a given. There are no two ways about it, mothers breastfeed. Period.

But in North America, women make a big deal out of it, not wanting to nurse, not sure if they can or should, and not wanting to put in the effort. Before Myrah was born, my husband James and I decided, if all goes well, we will have her breastfed exclusively for six months and continue to nurse till atleast she turns one.

Soon after Myrah was born, the enormity of the task and the daunting responsibility of breastfeeding dawned on me. I realized I am the sole provider for this tiny baby who needs all the nutrition she can get in the initial days to thrive and grow. It was a responsibility that sat heavy on me and a task I took to very seriously. Is there enough milk? Is she drinking enough? Should I feed her more often? Should I go by her demand? In those initial days, when one is getting used to the idea and the concept and the technique, it can get very overwhelming. There were midnights and early mornings when I got frustrated thinking she is not drinking enough or as much as is usual, and stress myself about why it is so. But with time, she and I learned, and we formed a pattern we both understood. I learnt to go by her demands, to be reassured that when she is hungry she will ask for it (and they can ask very loudly!) and she has the power of judgment to decide when enough is enough. As I watched her gain pounds and remain healthy, I trusted her more and took the task more lightly. The women at the breastfeeding clinic of the Region of Peel were a great help and encouraged me to stay on course. I highly recommend using your local community resources if you have questions, or find the task difficult.

It still remained a big responsibility to the end. It is limiting, in many ways, as much of your schedule gets centered around feeding times. It is just not convenient to feed in some places, so you would think twice about packing your bags and going out – you would rather wait for the feeding to be over to do that. But then new babies feed every two-three hours or lesser, so there isn’t much time between feeds anyway!

The most stressful part of my first year of motherhood was pumping breastmilk. It is a method of convenience, intended to give breastfeeding moms a break while a spouse or somebody else takes on the responsibility of feeding. This seemed like a very inviting proposition as I would then be free to do other things. I shopped around and Medela seemed to be the most widely used brand of breastpump. It turned out to be my nightmare. Pumping was difficult; it was frustrating and very time consuming. Unless you are one rare individual for whom pumping works like magic, you are bound to be upset about it. Medela didn’t help in anyway. While the company claims pumping is an emotional exercise, I refuse to believe that. I think it is an excuse they use to cover the inefficiency of their product. I conducted a little survey. Of the 10 or so new moms I talked to, not a single one was happy with her Medela breast pump. A couple of them had some success with it, but the rest gave up on it after a while. My persistent efforts to get help- even directly from Medela- didn’t’ pay any dividends and I soon forgo the luxury of a break from feedings.

I persevered at nursing and it paid off. I exclusively breastfed Myrah till she was five and a half months (till she started drooling at our meal table!). I continued to nurse her till she was thirteen months. No formula or powder milk. After one year, it was a smooth transition to homogenized milk which she has taken to well now.

It was a responsibility I was happy to bring to a close, knowing that Myrah is stronger for it. The path to getting there requires patience, perseverance and huge commitment. I recommend it to all mothers who are even in an iota of doubt. Just one caveat – think twice about pumping (atleast with a Medela pump)!

For those readers who are used to having extended family or domestic help at home, let me set the scene of what this entails. It means there is literally nobody to help you cook meals, watch the baby, clear the table, clean the mess from a one year old’s meal times, clean the kitchen, keep a tidy house, throw garbage and recycling, do grocery shopping, drop and pick up the baby from daycare, drive to and from work, put the baby to sleep, change her diapers, get her ready for the day, give her a bath, make sure she eats, rests, ensure she doesn’t get into trouble, is entertained well, attend phone calls, collect mail, make sure doors are locked at night, gas is filled in the car, clothes are washed, dried and folded and a 100 other things I am just not remembering now - and all these with a night of short, interrupted sleep .  Does the list sound daunting enough?

As the ten days rolled by, it didn’t seem that daunting, thankfully. It was very hectic and a lot of work, but I survived pretty ok. Very little was out of the ordinary, which helped me to plan things ahead and not deal with unexpected situations or uncertainties. Also, I took the liberty of not doing certain things that could wait till I had an extra pair of hands around the house. My employer, who is always great when it comes to people issues, and my boss, who is probably the most understand boss ever, were of great support too. They let me work from home when I needed to, let me leave work early so I can be on time to pick up my daughter, and eased my burden by not adding extra work pressures on me. Yay, Maplesoft! Then there were good friends, with their promise of help when I needed it, a psychological boost knowing that there is always help to turn to.

Little victories gave me joy. Getting myself and the baby ready, dropping her in daycare and being in office well in time, after driving 100kms to work – perfect start to a day. Baby sleeps in the stroller through a grocery shopping hour - pure bliss! I even squeezed in a visit to get my eyebrows in shape, after the grocery shopping! So one day when I got stuck in a traffic jam and just couldn’t reach the day care in time to pick up my daughter, I didn’t panic. I called on a friend who very readily helped out and picked up Myrah in time. Stressful, but manageable. So overall, it didn’t seem too bad.

This is, in no way, to belittle what single parenting is actually all about. I faced only a fraction of it for 10 days, with the hope of the soon-approaching respite. But for those dads and moms who deal with it day in and day out, without a break, - and some of them with two or more kids, phew! -  I can imagine their patience, endurance, courage and positive energy. Hats off to them for their perseverance.

I have a friend whose spouse travels very frequently and she once remarked, “I have got so used to it and have set a routine for myself and my baby, that when my husband is home, it is almost like a disruption of the routine.”

We all find ways of dealing with circumstances wherever life takes us.  They may be rough, they may be daunting. But if we keep a positive attitude and resolve to make best use of it and keep the faith to persevere and keep going, we will get through tough life situations.

James is already talking about his next business trip. And this time for a longer period. And I am bracing myself to go solo again.

Lenore Skenazy, who spun off an article she wrote for the now-defunct New York Sun newspaper into a book, "Free-Range Kids," has now teamed with a Canadian reality show producer in search of parents who want to learn how to loosen up.

Cineflix, the Toronto company behind shows like "Conviction Kitchen" and "Property Virgins," is currently recruiting families for a series in which Skenazy will give first-hand advice on how to be less neurotic.

Better still, of course, if one of the two parents in a family is more stubbornly overprotective than the other.

"Most of us thrived on the freedom our parents gave us," Skenazy explained in an invitation to prospective television show subjects.

"Think of the joy of riding a bike around the neighbourhood. Think of the skills involved in organizing our own baseball games. Think of the responsibility we took on — and rose to — when we babysat at 11, or sold cookies door-to-door without a security detail."

The argument Skenazy put forth in "Free-Range Kids" was supported by statistics that the American crime rate is now lower than when today's parents of young children were growing up in the '70s and '80s.

Today, the incessant arguments in the media about how kids should be raised seem like an even bigger threat to their collective sanity.

"Free-Range Kids" and "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother" may not be that far apart in philosophy, explained Skenazy, who has admitted to liking Chua's "base assumption that kids are competent and can do things well."

While the two authors clash over the value of unstructured playtime, Skenazy has suggested the new era of over-sharing personal information — which has compelled some parents to obsessively compare details of how they treat their kids behind closed doors — might be doing more harm than good to the process of child-rearing.

But then, reality television depends on a certain voyeurism, even if Skenazy is aspiring to couch it in advice on how to stop the trend of "over-helicoptering."

"Free-Range Kids" producers is now casting Canadian families, for filming later this year in Toronto, even if its subway grid is nowhere near as complicated as the one in New York.

This article first appeared HERE.

Baby centre describes separation anxiety as “a psychological term that means your toddler can't bear to be without you” and goes on to say “the crisis age for most babies is between 12 to 18 months”.

My daughter is 12 months and I started leaving her in daycare. A lethal combination. The first week of full time daycare was so unlike what she has been in the first year of her life. I have never seen her cry so much or be so upset about anything.

Our trial visits to the daycare centres went well. She happily played with the toys in the centre and even stayed with the day care staff for a couple of hours alone. Even then, when she started full time, I knew she would be upset and was mentally prepared for it. But I was not prepared for what happened.

She cried when I left her there, which was anticipated. But when I picked her up at the end of the half day (first couple of days I sent her only for half days), her eyes told me how much pain she was in. My heart broke when she burst into tears the minute she saw me. Not a happy and relieved smile on seeing me, but more tears to say why did you do this to me. I knew there would be some crying with strangers, but not that it would continue even at home.

She came home and clung on to me as if I was going to leave her the next minute. For two days, she would get upset at changing diapers, getting dressed, sitting in the car seat or even giving her a bath. This, I was not expecting. For a few days after that, every now and then she would go into what seemed like an anxiety attack when all that could console her was me holding her tight and calming her down. Nobody told me about this part.

Those days were tough and overwhelming. For her and for me. Thankfully after a couple of days she was normal after coming home. During the day, at the day care centre, the staff told me, she got increasingly better, but still had tears every now and then. As the routine continued for the next few days, she knew when I was getting her ready for daycare, she recognized the place when I took her out of the car, the faces of other kids and the staff became familiar and she clung on to when she spotted them in the room.

I felt helpless those first few days. I felt her pain and imagined how terrified she must be in an all-new environment all by herself. And I couldn’t do anything to help her. I had to toughen up and leave her there to figure it out for herself. My one year old baby – I felt like I was throwing her into a den of lions, for all I cared! So I came home with tears and a paining heart. And cried my heart out. All day I wondered what and how she was doing.

Here I was, thinking I have a few days to myself before I got back to work. I planned things I didn’t have time for in the one year – do some window shopping, visit friends, read a book in a café, watch movies. But I was in no frame of mind to do anything, let alone go out and have a good time.                   

It has been almost two weeks and she is settling down. Hiding outside her class room, I realized the initial tears settled down a few minutes after I disappeared from sight. Although she looks at me with very sympathetic and teary eyes when she sees me in the evening, I increasingly find her playing around when I go to pick her up.

So things are getting better. But in that first week, it felt like a hurricane hit me, and there was nothing I could do to make it go away. New parents, prepare yourself. It is going to be hard. For you and them. Each baby is different and I hope your experience is not a difficult one. Nobody can prepare you enough, but just know that it is a tough time of transition. There will be much crying and wailing and emotions and pain. New and strange feelings will come hurling at you. Stay calm and strong through it. It is a tough but very important and essential part of growing up and parenting.               

Myth:

Fetal heart rate can indicate your baby's sex.

Fact:

A normal fetal heart rate is between 120 and 160 beats per minute (bpm), although some people think if it's faster it's a girl and if it's slower it's a boy. But there have been no studies that conclusively show that heart rate is a predictor for a baby's gender. Your baby's heart rate will probably differ from prenatal visit to prenatal visit anyway - depending on baby’s age and activity level at the time of the visit. [CMAJ • December 14, 1999; 161 (12)]

Myth:

If you experience heartburn during pregnancy, your baby will be born with lots of hair.

Fact:

Because heartburn is extremely common during pregnancy, it really isn't an accurate predictor of whether your baby will be born with lots of hair. Or is it? To the surprise of researchers at John Hopkins University in 2007, they found some truth to the belief. In a study published in the journal Birth, researchers found 23 of 28 participants who complained of having some heartburn during pregnancy had babies with average or above-average amounts of hair, while 10 of 12 who reported no heartburn had babies with little or no hair. Wow.

Myth:

The shape and fullness of your face during pregnancy can indicate your baby's sex.

Fact:

Every woman gains weight differently during pregnancy and every woman experiences different skin changes. If people tell you that because your face is round and rosy you're having a girl, they might be right - but it's just as likely that they may be wrong.

Myth:

The shape and height of your belly can indicate your baby's sex.

Fact:

Although everyone’s sure you’re going to have a boy because you’re carrying low – and your best friend is certain she’s going to have a girl because she’s carrying high – this popular belief just isn’t true. The facts suggest that the shape and height of your belly is determined by lots of other things including: muscle tone, uterine tone (the strength, flexibility and muscular structure of the uterus), and baby’s position. In fact, carrying low may mean your baby has dropped lower into the pelvis to prepare for delivery. The only way to determine your baby's sex? Talk to your doctor about getting an ultrasound. Or if you prefer being surprised, just wait until he arrives

Click HERE for more information.

I don’t remember being a kid waiting for the gifts to be opened. My parents were not big on showering us with Christmas gifts. Infact, I don’t remember them buying us any gifts for Christmas. My Christmas memory with parents is loading our car full of gifts for those lesser privileged than we were. We would drive to the village my dad grew up in and go from house to house distributing cakes and other goodies. My dad was most excited to visit a childhood friend who lived in a hut back in the village – he loved the excitement of the friend’s children when they got these annual goodies.

My parents taught me that Christmas is about sharing with those who don’t have, showing the compassion and love that Jesus brought to the world. That, they said, is the true spirit of Christmas.

In modern times, Christmas is all about commerce. Have you made your shopping lists? How many gifts have you bought? How quickly are you running from one shop to another to get the perfect gift for the long line of people on your list? Businesses take advantage of this and decorate their shops, attract shoppers with discount sales and interest free loans and such.

Not to say we shouldn’t give gifts to those we love. Christmas is a special occasion and one way of celebrating it with family is to share what we have. But the modern society seems to overdo it and the priority of Christmas has become the piles and piles of Christmas gifts under the tree. Let us not be obsessed with the materialistic pleasures of Christmas, and take the time to remember what baby Jesus actually stood for - spreading love and happiness to the poor, the needy and the sick.

It is my daughter Myrah’s first Christmas. And I am beginning to think how I want her to celebrate Christmas. I haven’t bought her any gifts, I don’t intend to. When she grows up she may want one, like all her friends. And I may buy her some. But I also want to teach her that Christmas is not about the glitter and wrapped gifts. It is about giving - not just receiving - and more importantly, showing love through the giving. It is about giving to the food banks, visiting seniors’ homes, sharing the good news of Christmas. I want her to know that amidst all the celebrations of the birth of this baby, we have to remember why he was born – and spread the love and joy and compassion that he brought to the world.

 Wishing all of you a very meaningful and joyous Christmas season!