Parenting Again: Food

The responsibility of nourishing an infant and toddler used to petrify me. I stocked up on baby food books, determined to let my little man be the "best he could be." Or a superhuman.

Maybe that's why it ticked me off when Peter refused solids until he was almost 9 months. After all, the books said I was to start with cereal at exactly six months, moving on to fruits and veggies with at least 3 days spaced between each new food to pinpoint any allergies. We were seriously behind the clock.

I talked to a couple of pediatricians about our horrific dilemma, but they didn't share my alarm. "He's getting the good stuff," they'd say. "There's not a solid to beat it... Breastmilk satisfies every nutritional need for the first year of life, as long as you are feeding on demand... He'll eat when he's ready... I'd say the same thing to you even if he was in the 15th percentile instead of off the chart." (Yeah, I guess I should mention that throughout this time when I was certain that my child was starving, his height and weight were still above the 100th percentile.)

As it turned out, Peter did eat when he was ready. Imagine that! I guess he was holding out for the real stuff, since the first food he willingly put into his mouth was rosemary garlic potato. He never did eat anything but table food. Even then, he was over a year old before he wanted solids every day.

I look back at those months and wonder what I was smoking. I mean, I could have saved myself a lot of trouble. Less food to prepare, no one to spoon-feed during dinner, and no ghastly "solid poos" to change. (Really, someone needed to warn me what solids do to that sweet, inoffensive breastfed poo).

So this next baby will eat when he or she can put food to his or her mouth indepentdently. That's how it is in many parts of the world, and I don't see going to the trouble of purees or expensive jarred food when I can just whip out a boob.

Lazy mom. I am such a lazy mom.

Parenting Again: Sleep

If there is one thing I thoroughly understood before Peter was born, it was infant sleep. After all, I'd read Weissbluth's Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child.* "Lay them down drowsy but awake." "Do not allow them to become overtired." "Understand their sleep cues." I had it down.

But, as they say, reality bites.

The first book I read after Peter was born was Ferber's Solve Your Child's Sleep Problem. My child had to sleep, whatever it took.... as long as it wasn't in my bed where, if it didn't smother him, it would surely destroy my marriage.

Well, here's the long story short: we're failed Ferberizers. We worked for months, with increasingly less success. (Unless you count three hours of crying to get one hour of sleep successful, but I sort of don't.) In desperation I read Sears' Nighttime Parenting. And for the first time in my life, I learned that bringing a baby into my bed can be safely done.

Two years later, I have a new perspective. Much to my surprise, my husband and I both liked co-sleeping. Whaddya know? It didn't kill our marriage, nor did it prevent Peter's ability to sleep independently in his own time (he now sleeps through the night in his own bed). I was able to feed my child and help him to sleep as much as he needed it without losing any sleep myself. What a miracle!

So as I look at parenting another infant, I've gone from what Weissbluth calls a "reactive co-sleeper" to one who will do it by choice. If this next child is, unlike Peter, a baby who sleeps deeply and easily, I'm glad to know that having me breathing beside him can help him to regulate his own breathing patterns and help prevent SIDS. And if this next kid is like Peter-- well, I'm far too lazy to be back and forth between my bed and the nursery all night long.

It's freeing, really.

* Incidentally, I still think HSHHC is an excellent book. While Weissbluth and I don't necessarily agree on how a child "must" go to sleep, his understanding of a child's sleep needs at various ages has been an invaluable resource for me.

Parenting Again: The Experts

Whereas I'm quick to analyze the background and possible agenda of theological or historical writers, I was slower to bring this same critical analysis to the family section of the bookstore. I used to believe that having a childrearing book to your name or a medical degree in childhood illness made you an expert in parenting.

I badgered my pediatrician for advice on feeding and sleeping, despite the fact that the typical training for a pediatrician includes about 2 hours on breastfeeding and who-knows-what on sleep. I devoured every book from Ferber to Sears, with confusion and conflict at their differences.

These days, there's no one I'd rather see when my child has a fever than Dr. Medical Degree. But I'd no more ask my pediactrician for parenting advice than my OB for sex therapy.

Ironically, my new mantra for parenting did happen to come from our first pediatrician. It irritated me to no end at the time, because I wanted him to give me step-by-step instructions that would guarantee I was doing the right thing for my child. But now I get it. He said, looking at my husband and me with our son on the exam table, "You've just got to find what works for the three of you, and do it."

Parenting Again: To Carry a Baby

I gave birth to a toddler. At three months old, he outgrew the infant bucket. Grocery shopping with a baby who couldn't sit up in a cart but whose car seat was no longer portable was a challenge, to say the least.

Then there was our other dilemma: Peter wanted to be held 85% of the time. All day long I got to choose between sitting around with a baby in my arms or listening to him cry while I got things done. Oh, I had a pouch. I even had a front pack carrier. But Peter didn't fit in the pouch, and the front pack strained every muscle in my neck. Such is life with a twenty-two pound four-month-old.

When Peter was five months, someone introduced me to the ring sling. This made running errands easier, but one of my arms always felt a little restricted. Absolute freedom came when Peter was 10 months old and I learned how to carry him on my back in a mei tai. Oh, the bliss! (And here, by the way, is a shameless plug for Magic City Slingers.)

My hope for this next baby is that I might be able to put him or her on a blanket without hearing ear-piercing shrieks. Seriously, I dream of a blanket baby. Yet, even if I should be so blessed, I'm well-aware of the logistical challenges I'll be spared with my new knowledge of quality baby carriers (as in, the kind that don't hurt after twenty minutes). I'll be able to

• Chase Peter on the playground with my infant snug to my chest-- and eventually on my back.
• Push Peter in the sportscar shopping cart at Publix while wearing the baby.
• Avoid the expense of a two-seat stroller since, again, I can wear the baby while pushing Peter.
• When Peter is at Mother's Day Out, visit all the boutiques and antique stores I want while leaving the cumbersome stroller at home.

And, if I do happen to give birth to Peter Part Deux:

• I can get things done and have a baby contently held.

The Ultimate Fantasy

Don't we all fantasize about returning to our toddler/child bodies and re-living that time with the knowledge we now have? For a long time, I pictured myself amazing everyone with my brilliance. Now I think I'd hide my cards, lest I get thrown into gifted programs and find myself in college at age 6. But it would still be neat to go through preschool again with a new appreciation.

That's the beauty of having a second child. I get to re-live my experience of parenting with the knowledge I have from parenting the first time around.

Of course, the whammy is that every baby is different. What worked beautifully (and what failed miserably) with Peter might be another story with another being. Yet there are some principles that, assuming I have a singleton birth and a healthy baby, can be standard for me. So I'm going to share them through this next week or so...

What will become of the Suburbs?

My husband can't stop talking about the oil crisis. He's like an Old Testament prophet on crack.

What's shocking about gas prices isn't that they are so high. It's that they aren't higher. Simple economics:

Diminishing supply + increasing demand = $4 a gallon. $5 a gallon. $6 a gallon...

You could blame Americans and their SUVs-- which will soon be a thing of the past-- but with the demand for oil in China rising at an exponential rate, we'll soon be taking a much smaller piece of the pie. It's doesn't matter who is (or isn't) in the White House. It doesn't matter whether or not the Saudis open the floodgates. What matters is that if oil production continues at the same rate as it is right now, oil will be gone by my child's 48th birthday.

Choosing a School for Your Child

I had three all-important questions for the director of the first Mother's Day Out program that I got on the phone:

1) Where are you located?
2) Do you have any openings for the summer?
3) Will you send me a registration form?

Perhaps I should have booked a tour first. You know, to look less desperate.