Marry Well!

Today marks the sixth anniversary of the smartest thing I've ever done. I hope you'll bear with me for a moment while I pat myself on the back. I married one of the kindest, smartest, funnest, manliest, and most fertile men I have ever met. And despite three well-rehearsed "You! You did this to me!"s, I have never, even for a two-second pause, regretted it.

So in the spirit of annual tradition, I would like to share a few words about how to marry well.

Choosing a partner:

• Don't expect change. A husband or wife might change over time, but you can't expect it or force it. Don't marry anyone who isn't just what you want to be married to right now. A boyfriend or girlfriend who manipulates you is not suddenly going to become honest after the wedding date is chosen. A fiance who belittles you is not going to miraculously discover what a gem you are after rings are exchanged. Your loved one will have faults, yes. But you have to ask yourself if these are faults you are willing to live with for the rest of your life.
• Don't approach marriage thinking "if it doesn't work out, we can always get divorced." People who think of divorce as an option are not likely to try very hard to make things work.
• Don't marry someone who doesn't think you are the best thing that has ever happened to him or her. You deserve to be appreciated, and not just loved but cherished.
• Do communicate. If at all possible, take a marriage prep class, or attend an engagement retreat like Engaged Encounter, or go for premarital couples counseling. There will be areas where you think or assume that you are on the same page and it turns out that you are not. Most of these are minor hurdles that can be worked out with just a little bit of communication; but if it turns out that one of them is a deal breaker for one or the other of you, better that you should find out now, not after you've established a life, started a joint checking account, and bought a car together.
• Do make decisions together about finances and children. Before you marry. Even if your decision is not to decide yet, make sure you both agree on it.

Keeping a spouse:
I like to tell my sons that the best way to have a happy marriage is to treat their wives the way my husband treats me. For the benefit of those who don't know my Charming and Patient Husband, I will elaborate a bit here.

• Accept your spouse. That doesn't merely mean pretend to tolerate. Really accept him or her for what he or she is. There is nothing in the world that will help a person blossom into the best they can be better than genuine, unconditional acceptance. It heals past hurts, it raises future hopes, and it makes life a lot smoother.
• Appreciate your spouse. Don't merely overlook faults. Look, actively look, at qualities. And then express your appreciation verbally. Let him know that you are grateful for his hard work. Let her know how her smile warms you on a bad day.
• Never let the kids get between you. Your kids will one day grow up and move out; hopefully your spouse will not. Don't fight in front of the kids. Don't contradict them publicly about child rearing. There will be times you disagree about how to handle something, but discussion should always be respectful of the other person, and private. The kids do not need to see places where they can drive wedges to get what they want. Nor do they need the insecurity of wondering if they will have both of you in their lives in the future.
• Be the best person you know how to be, even in the areas of your life that don't affect your spouse. It inspires admiration. Don't just be generous with your spouse; also be generous with others. Smile warmly at the whole world, not just the person you love. It affects your entire outlook for the better, and it really can help your spouse to want to be a better person, too. I know that when I see my husband being kind to strangers, it reminds me to be kinder. When I see him being generous, it makes me feel proud of him. Don't deprive your love of the opportunity to be proud of you.
• Don't be afraid to be weak. Yes, keep on trying; but don't think that means you have to hide your weakness and vulnerability. That's what a life partner is for! This is the one person who will back you up when your backbone doesn't feel very strong. Let your spouse know how much it means to you that he or she helps you through your moments of weakness.
• Most of all, remember that love is not just a noun, it is also a verb. It isn't just a "thing" that you feel, it's an action that you do. And like every other action, it requires that you make a decision of the will. You are not a victim of love, you are an active participant. Keep on loving. Decide each and every day to give of yourself. Remember each and every day how much you love this person.

I pray that you will experience the kind of joy that I have in love.

Note to Monkeytot

Remember when I said you couldn't put a bandage in your nose? I'm sorry, but you can't put one in your mouth, either. It just won't work.

Define "Slow Learner."

Is it a person who has multiple children?

Only if the children were a mistake. Ergo, no.

Maybe the slow learner is the one who has a blessing... or is fortunate enough to have multiple blessings and still thinks only a slow learner would want to be so blessed.

Oooh, people who assume that children are a mistake really steam my Irish potatoes.

Note to Monkeytot

I don't think you'll have much success slicing the cheddar cheese with a plastic wrench. Sorry. And no, you may not grab a sharp knife to do it with instead. And NO, the hunk is not for biting directly into.

Note to Hypertot

Convention holds that the "magic word" is please, not abracadabra. Really.

Detachment Parenting

I have a twelve-year-old daughter who is a firm believer in Attachment Parenting. She reserves the right to hold the household baby at any time that a) she wants to, or b) there is something else I want her to do. If neither of those circumstances exists, it is her responsibility to make absolutely sure that I am holding him. Especially if I'm eating, typing, or using the bathroom.

Attachment Parenting, you see, is a parenting philosophy based on the concept that a baby must be held or cuddled at all times, preferably with expensive devices. The most important of these devices is called a Sling. It is a piece of fabric that can be very attractive and/or cute, which holds the baby on the mother (this is called "Baby Wearing") so that the mother can cuddle the child when she is not in the mood for skin or eye contact. The second part of this parenting method is what occurs during sleep time, called Co-Sleeping. This involves having the baby act as a method of birth control, sleeping between Mommy and Daddy, so that Mommy does not have to wake up or give the child any conscious attention while nourishing the baby during the night. For parents who have what is known as Lactational Amenorrhea (the cessation of fertility that some breastfeeding mothers experience), this birth control is not necessary. In this case, an optional device may be used, a special cradle that attaches to the side of the bed for Co-Sleeping, so that baby may be considered to be in the same bed, without lying between his parents, and without suffering the indignity of being in a cradle separated from the adult bed by two inches.

Despite my daughter's strong feelings on the subject, I do not feel I can live up to the ideals of Attachment Parenting. For one thing, I only own one sling. Although I very much enjoy using it for outings, I don't get out much, and frankly I find it easier to hold my little son in my arms. I worry a little that I'm doing him psychological damage by allowing him so much contact without the aid of the device, but the truth is I'm behind on laundry, and I can't really afford a second sling. Besides, despite the distance it puts between our bodies, we just enjoy playing "Super Baby" too much to stop.

As for Co-Sleeping, a third person would never fit on our full-size mattress, and I have a perfectly good handmade wooden cradle right beside my side of the bed. I just can't bring myself to toss it out.

Oh, there are other things, too. Like the fact that my husband likes holding the baby also, and I have this pernicious idea that it might be good for both of them to form a relationship; or the fact that I have a preschooler and a toddler who also want Mommy time. Or the niggling worry at the back of my mind that maybe, just maybe, love and good instincts might do more good than a book or a method.

So here I am, feeling guilty because so many people have said that Attachment Parenting is the most loving, best, most psychologically uplifting method of baby rearing, and I just can't bring myself to do it. I can't seem to convince myself that the quality of parenting depends on what devices you use. And most of all, I can't seem to accept the idea that I have to be the best, or that I have to have the approval of a group of people or a book, to be a good and loving parent.

I finally came up with something that alleviates my worry about inferior upbringing: just find a new method... or in the absence of one that fits us, make one up! Thus was born Detachment Parenting. The idea behind this method is that many parents have to make their methods of parenting fit their lives rather than a book, and that Nature did a pretty good job teaching most of us how to love our little ones. It is based on the rebellious notion that my skin is just as cozy as a sling, and that I may as well wake up when I feed the baby in the middle of the night. It centers on the notion that when a book supplants common sense, whether the book demands Baby Wearing and Co-Sleeping, or on the other end of the spectrum, Feeding Schedules and Discipline, the middle ground might just give a baby what he needs, and give the rest of the family what they need, too. It doesn't give the same level of confidence that knowing you've followed all the rules of your chosen method gives; but it gives parents the chance to use their own minds and hearts in figuring out how to meet the individual needs of real people. And in the final analysis, babies aren't theories or methods... they really are people.

Note to Hypertot

Honeybunch, you are indeed "allowed" to go to your room, and I suggest you go when told, regardless of your misconception. No, sending you there doesn't make Daddy a bad person, nor a bank robber, as you so eloquently stated, and I seriously doubt he's going to go to jail as a result. But nice try.

Note to Hypertot

I think it's great that you learned how to make your own peanut butter sandwiches; but do you think you could use a butter knife, instead of a plastic toy dagger?

Define love?

Adults think love is an action.

Teenagers think love is an emotion.

Babies are certain that love is a taste.

Grinding One's Axe on the Child

That's what I strongly believe is going on with the child mentioned here. Specifically, a second grader has announced that he's transgendered, with his family's support, and the school is obliged to support him in the decision.

So, where does an eight year old get a word like "transgender"? Where does a child that age get the concept that he isn't really the person he sees in the mirror? Even if it were true, it isn't an issue a second grader would be able to put into words.

That is, unless his parents jumped on the idea.

I could see a kid that age putting on Mommy's high heels and traipsing around the house saying "I'm a woman!" I've seen younger kids than that do it, because every child toys with the idea of pretending to be various role models. Every child I've ever known, by age two, tries on both Mommy's and Daddy's shoes... and big brother's, and aunt's... and any big person in his life. That is how they explore the idea that they will be big one day themselves. So, when a second grader comes up with the idea that it isn't fair that Sister has prettier clothes than he has, or wants to be just like Mommy when he grows up, it's not terribly surprising.

What is surprising is a parent who is so eager to display his axe to grind that when Kiddo says "I wish I could wear dresses like Mommy does," says "Woohoo, we have a transgender kid! Isn't it great? Now we can make our point to the world!!"

So now a kid who had an appreciation for gingham is suddenly assigned a lifetime of wearing girl's clothing and thinking daily about his own sexuality from this day forward. By age eleven, he will be deciding with whom to have sex. By age eighteen, he will likely commit suicide. The article doesn't mention that: that the majority of transgender people commit suicide.

But it's worth it, because it allows Mommy's and Daddy's soap box to be big and visible. Who gives a damn what it does to the child?

Anything for politics. Anything for politics. Anything for politics. Keep repeating that until you convince yourself that the child is less important than the issue.

How Gary Ezzo Made Me a Better Parent

It is 3:00 AM, and 4-week old Peter cries. It isn't a cry, exactly, but a fussy sound of a child who is hungry but not quite wide enough awake to communicate it. I consider rolling over and waiting till he wails, but then I remember Ezzo, and I make myself cheerful about sliding off my bed and picking up my precious baby. My baby is talking to me, and I have the privilege of being one of the people who gets to teach him that big people listen and understand when he communicates. I have the privilege of being the one God chose to make milk and feed it to him. And he, being exactly the way God made him, communicates well.

Anyone who is familiar with Babywise, or Ezzo's other writings, may be thinking, now, "But that isn't what Ezzo teaches!"

Exactly. It isn't. Ezzo teaches that babies need to be taught to conform to adult schedules, and that adults need to learn to view baby's cries not as communication but as a form of manipulation that must be squashed. And while many families have used Ezzo's techniques with results that cause envy among other adults (babies who sleep through the night and do not cry), many families have also suffered heartbreak and serious consequences from having followed these techniques. Babies have suffered documented ailments from failure to thrive to slow starvation. And these consequences are not merely anecdotal; the AAP has condemned forced scheduling. They have documented dehydration and failure to thrive as consequences of Ezzo's practices. Lactation consultants, child development experts, and child advocacy agencies have all recognized these consequences.

And if you look a little more deeply, a basic understanding of how children develop should show us that babies' development should be about far more than merely training them to adapt to adult convenience; rather, infancy and childhood are times when we adults are helping to form the cornerstone for our children's growth and gifts. A child who learns that when he cries, someone cares and helps, learns that he can communicate. A child who learns that his cries go ignored will learn that communication is futile. The fact that a child stops crying does not mean he is a "good" child, but one who has given up on trying to make that connection, because he knows that his attempt will not bear fruit. What is the outlook for such a child in his future relationships? What is his outlook for learning, for communicating?

Ezzo is right about one thing: we are raising our children for God. It is our duty to raise them in preparation for serving Him. But the real question is how do we do this? Do we raise them to serve Him by suppressing their strengths, their ability to communicate, and their sense of worth? Do we teach children that they matter because they are made in God's image by telling them that their needs are evil and manipulative? Or do we teach them to honor Him by helping them to cultivate all their gifts? Do we squash their personalities or mold them?

God made babies. He made them to cry when they have a need, so that we might know. Who are we to say that God made them wrong?

And now, when I hear my little baby cry, and I'm so tired my arms and legs ache like overstretched rubber, I will try very hard to remember that God knows best. I want my son to grow up knowing my love in no uncertain terms; maybe if I am not selfish, he will never be tempted to think that God, in whose image my son sees me, is selfish either.

Bless the beasts and the children. For in this world, they have no voice. They have no choice."

Baby Day, Tuesday

That's right. Tomorrow I'm going to deliver Baby Peter by c-section at 9:00 AM pacific time. Prayers for our safety and health will be mightily appreciated, and we'll update info as soon as feasibility allows.

Note to Self

In future, be sure to look closely at Hypertot's coat before sending him to preschool, to make sure it is actually a coat and not a snowsuit.

Here We Go A-Wasl-ing

It's that time of year again: the students in Washington State schools walk through their disrupted school days with the burden of the Washington Assessment of Student Learning on their shoulders. Dire warnings follow them about the need to pass the test and the importance of making their school look good. Every student must pass, but fifty percent will fail.

No, it isn't a failure on the part of the schools that causes this fifty percent failure rate; the failure rate is built in. Only the top half of tests pass.

I find it ironic that while the state is requiring that half of all students fail, and half of all schools fail, at the local level they are still engaging the "self esteem movement" methods. My daughter's school has an awards ceremony every month, where three different students from each class get awards each time... a different three students. And that isn't even counting the perfect attendance awards that are granted not annually but monthly. The awards are geared, essentially, toward ensuring that almost every student be told, at least once in the year, that he is the best.

Both extremes are wrong. To say that every student is the best waters down the honor of genuine accomplishment and recognition; yet to require half of all students to fail sets an impossible standard for those who struggle in school. It seems logical, even obvious, that any contest in which everyone wins doesn't measure much, and any test in which half fail is an indictment on the whole system (in this case, the WASL system).

As a parent of gifted children, I object to both measurements. I don't want to see my kids automatically win, because it takes away the incentive to try. I don't want them rewarded, either, for their intelligence. They did not work for that, and can't take much credit. I want to see them work for acknowledgement, in areas that require effort. To me, a perfect attendance award or an A in homework means a lot more than a "You're Smart" certificate.

I also don't want to see other kids required to fail simply because my kids were born fortunate. If the test were objective, it would be much fairer; but regardless of how objective the WASL promoters claim it is, if children's success is only judged competitively, by how they measure against other children, it isn't objective. The "smart" kids are going to fill the passing percentile ranks, and the kids who struggle are going to get beaten down again and again. I don't think it's fair that hard working kids who are learning should be penalized simply because tests come easier to my kids.

Finally, I think it very short-sighted that we make so much rest upon a single test. It practically ensures that schools will "teach the test," which has multiple harmful results. It means that they are spending more time learning how to test and less time learning how to think. It means that they are spending more time learning the specific types of information teachers expect to see on the test, and omitting other equally necessary information not likely to appear on the test. It implies that only information tested by the WASL matters, and that the writers of the WASL are all-wise and never err in educational judgment.

It also homogenizes learning. Robert Frost said "The best things and best people rise out of their separateness; I'm against a homogenized society because I want the cream to rise." If we really believe in the uniqueness of the gifts of each child (as the self esteem movement would have us see), then we should allow children to explore divergent paths of learning. The more we gauge their learning by monolithic tests, and use those tests alone to judge them and their schools, the more we reduce their opportunity to learn independently. Children who must "learn the test" do not have time to learn things like research and logic sufficiently, because those things require independent exploration, and take away from time spent learning the specific topics covered on the test.

The result is that those who are gifted in one area but poor in another will spend a lot of time trying to overcome their difficulty in the area of challenge and very little time developing their giftedness. It means we wind up with a lot of competent students, but fewer and fewer who ever develop their potential for giftedness.

Those schools that have trouble passing the WASL, and those parents whose students perform poorly on the test, will undoubtedly complain that the test is not fair; and undoubtedly, their cries will be ignored as so many sour grapes. So let me go on record, as a parent of gifted children, with my criticism. My children will ace the tests; but I still know that the test still isn't wise. We should be encouraging success, not requiring failure.

Diaper Bag Excursions

Patricia Rodriguez discussed in a Tuesday column the difficulties and pleasures of travelling with children, as opposed to adult travelling. Since I haven't posted but once since my own newest arrival on the first, it seemed like an appropriate way to jump back in. Forget about dipping my toes into the waters of travel; it's daunting enough just to dip back into blogging, on an average of 5 hours a night of sleep.

That's total, folks. Occasionally I get up to 7 1/2, in 2 hour increments; but usually, it's more like 4. And that, too, is segmented. Last night, we paid our eldest to babysit so flu-ridden hubbie and I could sleep it off. Sleep feels like such an incredible luxury.

Nevertheless, life goes on, and so do blogs. The kids still want food daily (Pshaw! Where do they get these spoiled notions?), and the city still wants us to pay the water bill. As much as Ms. Rodriguez' ideas appeal, it's hard enough to keep up with the requirements of homemaking, let alone globetrotting with a diaper bag. Yet I applaud her attitude. Having a family isn't the end of living, but an addition and an adjustment... and despite sleeplessness and changing attitudes, it's a positive one. I can't imagine either travelling or homemaking, and getting as much satisfaction, if we were a family of two. I miss the occasional breathing space of time alone with my groom, but it would seem meaningless if that were all there were.

One day we will have the time, money, and energy to travel. And when we do, I hope we'll still have kids with us that we can share it with. I look forward to seeing our youngest's reaction one day to meeting Mickey Mouse, as I have enjoyed watching the older kids light up at good photo ops.

Even as I type, I postponed Sunday's planned trip out of town to the Tridentine Mass. I wanted to go, but I dreaded trying to meet a deadline while having to pull over and nurse. I worry about feeding the baby too many bottles and running out of milk, and I worry about simply not having the energy to dress quickly enough. But it won't be long before I have the courage to share other parishes with Davy and the other kids. I may never get a chance to traipse around the world with the ducklings in tow, but I do know this: I'd rather have all my ducks in a row here at home, making short and infrequent excursions with them, than have constant grand adventures without.

David Nathan

I guess you gotta be careful whom you believe on April Fools Day, and whom you let have your blog password!

Dear, sweet hubbie... loveable yet unmanageable prankster... was delighted that our David Nathan was born on April Fools Day. So excited, in fact, that he began calling family members while I slept after childbirth. He told them that our 8 lb 12 oz boy was over 14 lbs, and that we'd given him the middle name Jessica. Most people were too polite to ask why on earth we'd choose a name like Jessica for a boy. My youngest sister asked outright, and after hearing his bogus explanation said "You are so full of it. It's April Fools Day." She had to reassure my family that no, I hadn't given birth to a whale with a girl's name.

And then he goes home for a shower, and posts to my blog.

But I wouldn't trade 'im for the world. I couldn't handle life with a husband who lacked a sense of humor, and let's face it: he makes good babies.

Thanks for the good wishes and prayers. We're all doing well, and working at forgetting the 33 hours of labor. And Davy's worth it.

He's Here!

Born after 33 hours of labor, at 12:45 this afternoon. After wrangling for weeks over names, we finally settled on David Jessica. He was 20 inches and weighed 14 lb. 8 oz. Should have been named "Ouch!" Thanks for the prayers!