Parenting for the future
I knew this day would come but I didn’t think it would come so soon. My daughter is sitting in the driver’s seat of my car, hands on the wheel. She has wound the window down all the way as the day is quite warm. “Come on,” she says. “We have to go.” Read more…
It’s hard to know how I feel tonight. After two years, two months and two days of breast-feeding my daughter to sleep every night, tonight her bedtime routine was missing that previously essential “Mama milk” moment. I expected tears on both our parts, even though I’ve been preparing her for weeks (it’s my decision, not hers). Instead, it was almost too easy. Read more…
I’m sitting in a lounge room surrounded by boxes. I had plans for packing some more but decided I’m sick of writing Modern Mama posts in my head and never posting them. The irony is that for the last six months I’ve been contracting and so I had (theoretically) more time to blog. Now, we’re moving to Sydney because I got a job with Greenpeace.
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The good news is that Harper’s hearing test went swimmingly. Although the line on the machine was still flat (no pressure in the system means no pressure peak to test), she turned her head to see the puppet at even some of the quietest sounds. She also said a bunch of words, showed that she knew where the doors were and bits of her body and so on and so forth. The audiologist was thrilled. And kept saying “good girl”. Which brings us to *that* post… about unconditional parenting and the enervating jabbering of “good job” that is a constant hum in the background of modern childhood. Read more…
It’s funny to look back and read that last post from only four months ago… I kept waiting for that next moment when we would hear sentences and it didn’t happen and it didn’t happen. At the back of my mind, I could hear my mother saying “but you spoke in full sentences at 14 months”. Another worry was that my daughter’s words were slightly off — she said “sha” for “shoe” and “ba” for “boo”, but when she said “mama” or “uh-oh” it was clear as a bell. What was going on? Read more…
Language acquisition is one of those major milestones that marks a transition from babyhood to toddlerhood but it is not as clearcut as a first step. In our case, communication and understanding move in leaps and bounds. We started baby sign language at eight months and now we are seeing the benefits: a calmer, more confident child who can express her needs. At 17 months, she also now comprehends a huge range of words and uses a few words in place of signs — like her favourite, car, over and over, when she wants to go out, when she sees one in a book and even as they flash by us on the road.
Where did three months go? Apparently, a one year old is more of a handful — who knew? More mobile (she started walking three days after her birthday, waiting until her party for maximum audience and impact), more insistent, more aware. I’ve been planning posts on language acquisition, how we’re faring with elimination communication (we recently bought a training seat for the toilet, which seems to strike some people as insane with a 15 month old), why Cry It Out is evil (and why the recent Australian study on it was flawed) and more… but I simply haven’t had the time to do the research (I recently got a promotion at work). They are coming, I promise! In the meantime, I want to share my amazement at the little things. Read more…
I cannot believe it’s been almost a year. In one week, my little baby will turn one. Some things haven’t changed at all (like the fact I wrote that sentence and then had to pat her back to sleep for 20 minutes). Others are radically different: she’s almost walking; she has about five clear signs and vocalises vociferously; she points at what she wants; and she now throws a mean tantrum with serious intent. Read more…
I delivered on my first major deadlines at work in the last few weeks. And spent my evenings making a website for my Dad. And somewhere in there, I nursed and played with my little girl — although, truth be told, her Dad did most of that. And as a result, I got run down and eventually ill, but I kept on turning up to work and I kept on dragging myself out of bed in the middle of the night. Read more…
Every single day, someone mistakes my daughter for a boy. Why? In part, because “boy” is the default category. In part, because she isn’t dressed in pink, doesn’t have pierced ears and is not sporting one of those lacy bands around her forehead (ugh). It happened again this week, at the pool, because she was wearing a lime green swimsuit that (shock, horror) only covered her bottom. All the other girls were in pink, either one-pieces or two-piece bikinis (for 8-month-old babies!!). It’s just part of a bigger story about gender, stereotypes, Caster Semenya and why she matters, girls’ toys and boys’ toys, and why it’s a big, big mess waiting to happen. Read more…
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