Tag Archives: crying kids

To Liz, On Having her Second Baby

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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Many families in my day care program have had babies over the years (and then I automatically get new customers!). But I didn’t have a blog then. So Liz, you’re the lucky one who gets to hear this lecture. I look forward to the arrival of your new baby with love and excitement! (And I know you can’t wait to get it the heck out.)

I remember expecting my Younger Son. I was thrilled and excited and so much more confident than I had been the first time around.

But I was also consumed with the thought that I was ruining his older brother’s life. Towards the end of the pregnancy my belly was so big that I could barely even hold him in my lap, and it killed me that I couldn’t give him the attention that he craved. That child who had been the center of my universe was going to have to adjust – big-time – and I thought he would hate me for it.

It was probably mother nature preparing us all for the baby who would be in my lap nursing for hours. And Older would have to cuddle next to me, instead of right on my lap. I knew the transition would be hard for him, but it was hard for everybody.

Well, when is having a baby NOT hard?

And when the baby was done nursing and tucked away in his bouncy seat, Older could have me all he wanted. Life would go on, and we would find new ways to enjoy each other’s company.

The best thing I heard while expecting Younger was that when you have your second child, “the hardest part is giving yourself over to parenting.” I thought, what have I been doing for the past three years of spending 24/7 at the beck and call of this child? Was that not giving myself over? Was that not going to be ENOUGH?

But if you have two babies, you might as well have ten, because that’s how big the difference is (I’m sorry to put that so bluntly – don’t be afraid). There is never a time when you are not needed by someone. The laundry and dishes multiply tenfold. It’s much harder to enjoy a quiet naptime (because even if your first is young enough to still nap, they’ll never do it at the same time). Even sneaking away for a few hours gets more difficult. Plenty of friends are willing to hang out with your one child. But a toddler and a baby? Not so much.

There’s the fear – as long as the baby was in my belly I knew he was safe. But as soon as he was out, and I was saddled with him in a car seat or stroller or nursing, and my toddler went running off into the woods, what would I do? How would I keep both of them safe? Just keeping one alive was hard and stressful enough.

Then I had the thoughts of, will it be my last baby? My day care provider at the time had two boys, it’s all she wanted, she was done and happy and so sure of herself. I was jealous of her confidence and always torn about making a commitment to another child. Then Younger got to be about three years old and I said yeah – that ship has sailed. But you’ll know when you know, it’s as simple as that. If times were different I’d have five kids, but this is what my lifestyle fits. And I am more than blessed and eternally grateful to have two fabulous, healthy, kind, caring boys who were meant just for me.

In fact just the other night I had a dream that I was nursing a baby and I woke up with a shudder. I told Dave and he said, “That’s disgusting.” (We’re joking, Leche League.)

Oh, and some good practical advice is to try to minimize how much the baby needs you when your older child does too. Of course that sounds impossible but you don’t want to bring home this squirmy, loud, smelly thing who’s getting all the love and attention while your older child mopes, and then to top it off keep reminding them that they can’t have you anymore because now you belong to the baby.

The best trick I found for doing that is saying something like “My hands are busy right now. I’ll help you in just a minute I promise.” Try to avoid “I’m busy with THE BABY.” Your child is going to be so sick of that damn baby – try not to point out that you’re neglecting them to play with the one who they think is replacing them.

Let her come to her own opinion about the baby. Don’t force her to play with it or say how much she loves it or help you change diapers – yet. The time will come when she’s interested (and maybe that will be right away, who knows), but let her set the pace.

And read Siblings Without Rivalry by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish, it will save your life I guarantee. It’s also probably a good idea to stock up on “The new baby is coming!” books from the library so you can talk to her about this in a non-in-your-face way.

I remember the first night in the hospital with Younger. Everyone had gone (remember the first baby, when Daddy’s hovering over you every moment? By the second one he’s home sleeping before the nurses tell you lights out) and it was just me and this beautiful, scrawny, pruney, stunning, perfect baby. I grabbed him out of his cradle and scared him to death – I was used to handling a wild 2-1/2 year old toddler boy.

I held him tight and told him, “We’re going to be great friends.” I felt a warmth I hadn’t had with Older, because for that poor boy I was just in a slightly constant state of panic and confusion. For this one I knew exactly what I was doing and it made the ride all the more precious.

When I look at my boys now, the unit, the inseparable pair, the brothers who have a bond I can’t even fathom, I know any worry I had was a waste of time. They have that sibling relationship that is so vital through life. You may love or hate your sibling, but there is no one else in the world who shares the same experiences and history as you. And as my friend once told me, “Everybody needs a sibling to gang up on your parents with.”

My second child was a gift to my entire family, one that I probably still don’t quite understand the magnitude of. I can’t remember what life was like before he came. I know I wondered how I could love another baby as much as I loved my first, and then I found out that my own heart had depths I couldn’t have imagined.

In Which I Teach Kids Self-Defense

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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I’ve had a lot of noise in my head lately about how to protect children, especially after writing two articles for the Gazette on Penn State, and viewing this awesome clip of my friend Lynne Marie speaking at an anti-violence rally.

One of the things that bothered me the most was my son worrying about being left at basketball practice because of “that coach who molested that kid and no one called the police.”

So I’m trying to take my own advice and give my kids some real power over their bodies. This morning we opened the super fun box of Christmas delights so we could start working on some Christmas crafts.

Miss M and Miss G were fighting over a little baggie full of foam Christmas beads. I was busy cleaning up the remnants of the exploded box, so I told them to walk away, use their words, etc. (You know, all the things you yell at them from across the room when you can’t get there fast enough to break it up.)

But it wasn’t working, and Mr. R decided he was going to get in on the action. He went over and started slapping at the two girls who were already slapping at each other. Miss G just took it as a challenge and started slapping both Miss M and Mr. R. But Miss M started to cry.

I pulled them all apart and looked right in Miss M’s eyes. I said, “I want you to practice this with me. ‘NO!!!’” and I put my hand out like stop-in-the-name-of-love. At first she just looked at me with the tears still coming, like, are you yelling at me? What’s going on here?

I said, “I want you to practice your strong voice. When you cry and scream it only makes him want to hit you more. You have to make him want to stop. So, do this. ‘NO!!!’” The other girls started practicing.

“That’s great! Miss C, let me hear your strong voice!” She did it again, and the other girls took a turn.

I said, “Now try to make your voice really low,” because they still sounded like 3-year-old-girl squeaky toys. I showed them again but just sounded like a bear with indigestion. They knew it. “Ha ha Amy you sound like a bear!”

I said, “You’re right, I do. Now growl and say ‘NO!!!’”

We kept it up for a while and laughed at our silly voices. I told them that it was always OK to do this, and that I wanted to see growling bears instead of crying.

Then it was time to make lunch so I put out their drinks and snuck into the kitchen. Right after I disappeared, I finally heard a very loud “NO!!!” from Miss M. I winked at her but didn’t say anything (she likes to work stuff out on her own – you’re not really supposed to know about it).

The kids will sometimes sit at the table and wait while I make lunch. During this time, Mr. R likes to touch Miss G’s cup and make her cry (for a 2-year-old boy, this is a very interesting cause and effect toy). So after about thirty seconds in the kitchen I heard four girls yell “NO!” I glanced through the doorway and saw four stop-sign hands aimed at Mr. R.

It was lovely to see this, but it’s something I have to keep practicing. I’ve taught kids this from the start and like everything else, I have to teach it over and over. Like yesterday when we had to pull out the old “If you’re angry and you know it” song sheet and review what we should do when we’re angry.

But I do hope this will stick with them. I might start using it myself, in fact, when I’m surrounded by children who are hanging on my body or whining for me to do something for them. And most importantly, I have to work it into the conversation while my own boys are home. They’re getting some damn good fighting skills just from wrestling with each other, but I want them to feel that powerful in case they’re ever in a situation where the person is someone who isn’t just playing around.

A Day at the Family Center

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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I love going to the family center. Everyone looks at me with their eyes bugging out of their heads when I walk in with four or more kids. How am I going to defend all of theirs from all of mine?

I’m usually the one being ridiculous on the floor with ten kids around me because, you know what, it’s easier for me to play with kids. I’m beyond the toddler years, and I’m not always careful about what I say (who, ME?! Nooooo!). I feel like I’m insulting people when I say things that are too callous. Plus these are usually parents who don’t have their kids in day care so they’re not used to kids banging and bumping and being herded by someone like me, mean old Amy (as you will see soon enough).

What a bargain for me

Available now for a mere $189 on amazon!

Another thing I’m beyond caring about is looking like a fool. So Miss M and I are playing with these AWESOME Duplo dinosaurs (gotta get me some, they probably don’t make them anymore) and she has a random cowboy guy riding one, so naturally I am the voice of the cowboy. “Fine mornin to ride my bronto, wouldn’t chya agree ma’am? Oh the dinos are goin’ in the house? Well what in tarnation? Whoever heard of a dino in the house?”

Miss M said it was time for them to go to sleep. “Well, nachrally!” I was having way too much fun with the cowboy voice. A dad was hovering over his daughter nearby, smiling benignly, like he was too close to a mental patient and had to keep everything calm.

We tucked the dinosaurs into some beds and as I said before, I am now being swarmed with kids. A boy has brought over a stuffed cow who also wants to go in the house, and now somebody else found a matching cow and brought it over because they heard me yell “A cow!? A cow in the house too? Cows don’t belong in the house, they live in the barn, dagnabbit! Oh well, I guess we’re just havin a big ol’ whoop-de-doo in the house today!”

While we’re playing dolls and dinos and the twins are doing puzzles, Tornado decides to do one of his favorite tricks. I call it, “empty the bookcase by throwing the books on the floor behind the shelf, which is where I think they really belong.” He does it at my house and it’s quite orderly and methodical, and honestly kind of interesting to watch, so I let him do it. He clearly gets something from it. I just don’t pick up the books until after he goes home.

I pull Miss D over next to me (she had just showed me the 7th puzzle she completed but I’m not allowed to touch it, I just have to look at it and go, “Awesome! You did the puzzle!” then she puts it back on the shelf). I ask her, “What is Tornado doing? That is so silly!” and she giggles.

Another boy wanders over and seems intrigued, but also a little bothered by Tornado’s project. I say, “I know, we have to put the books back. Isn’t that silly to put them behind the bookshelf?”

The boy and Miss D dive right in and start picking up the book mess, water-bucket-brigade style. I want Tornado to help as well so I put him behind the bookshelf, except he gets very mad at me and starts screaming at the top of his lungs. My mentor and friend Lynne runs the family center and she comes over quickly to see what the disturbance is. As a sort of explanation and apology to the parents who don’t like to see adults making kids cry, she says in a nice loud voice, “Oh Tornado, natural consequences are hard sometimes!”

I understand why Lynne is concerned about people’s response, but I’m not backing down. As I’ve said before there are reasons to why I do what I do, and I’m not going to go easy on a child because it makes someone else uncomfortable. My relationship with my day care children is between me, the child, and their parents, and no one else. Asking a child to help pick up a mess they’ve made is not tantamount to torture.

But we are in a public place where everyone is watching everyone else, and no one wants their kid to be the one who’s crying because that means they’re the bad parent in the group. I’m used to the sound of crying, and a lot of it (in fact, soon there will be a post about how crying is GOOD for children). It doesn’t scare or bother me.

So we struggle through the cleanup and when I say it’s done, Tornado turns to walk away. But because he’s not familiar with the space he slams his head directly into the radiator. Metal BAAAAANG! More loud and baleful crying! Immediate blue raised bump on the forehead!

Of course. Now the people who secretly thought I pinched him while getting him to clean up have the proof that I’m an abuser.

Well I’m happy to tell you what happened next. I sat down to comfort him, and he cried for a little while but then he settled down and…FELL ASLEEP ON MY LAP!!! I just looked at Lynne and said, “Well if he trusts me enough to fall alseep on me then I guess I’m doing an OK job.” (He did not knock himself out, if that’s what you’re thinking. He was just tired, that’s why he was standing at the door crying to go home earlier in the morning. Oh yeah there wasn’t a moment without embarrassment for me today!)

We laughed at the drool all over my shirt and then Lynne admired the setup in the doll house: the baby dino tucked into bed with the cowboy sitting on the chair watching over her. It was adorable. I thought of the scene from “True Grit” where Matt Damon sneaks up on Mattie. And then I thought of him talking with his swollen tongue and laughed out loud for no reason. But all the people there already thought I was weird so – oh well.

As we’re leaving we see Miss A and her mom picking up my other Miss M from preschool. They come over to say hi and while my back is turned for one second the Tornado plunks himself down in the front passenger seat of my car. There are, of course, about five other moms and dads waiting in line at the preschool while I bodily force Tornado into his car seat (with him kicking, screaming, and fighting me the entire time) and lock his belt before he can escape.

Ahhh, I love making a spectacle of myself in front of all the good parents of my town.

Stop Judging Me!

Posted on by Amy Pybus
2

I’m digging into the archives for an oldie but goodie post. I’m dealing with too much emotional baggage right now (bullying, youth sports, end-of-an-endlessly-long-winter blues) to produce quality work. So this is a blast from fall, when we could 1. go outside and 2. play 3. wearing only hoodies. Three things I haven’t done since, well, back in the fall. Enjoy, and dream of sunny days.

I had one of those hairy-eyeball moments today. That means a bystander (read: non-child-care-professional) was giving me the hairy eyeball because of what was happening in my day care.

And I felt kinda bad about it, as I always do, and got that creeping feeling on the back of my neck: they-think-I’m-a-monster-and-they’re-going-to-call-social-services-and-report-me. But I was in the middle of a teaching moment and I had to stick to my guns. I was not going to cave – and screw up what I was teaching – to please the hairy-eyeball giver.

And I know that a child care professional would have understood exactly why I was doing what I was doing.

So I’ll explain, now that you’re wondering if I was beating children. We were playing out in the driveway and the bystander was some helpful person out walking her dog. She stopped and stared at me disapprovingly because I was letting a child cry. Just keep movin lady. And get your dog’s turd off my lawn. It’s more offensive to me than a screaming child.

My group has become very girl-heavy (four on most days, five on some) and they are all between ages two and three. Their primary method of communication is SCREAMING!!!!! At the top of their lungs!!!!!

Honestly. I wear earplugs much of the time. People laugh at me. It’s called survival.

My sweet Miss C was playing in the driveway and noticed that her twin, Miss D, had her hood up. Miss C wanted her hood up too, but was struggling with it. Instant scream mode.

I told her “Miss C, I will be happy to help you if you use your words. Just ask for ‘Help, please.’”

She chose to scream some more.

It’s not that I never respond to screaming. In fact just a few minutes before the hoodie episode, the toy car Miss C was riding in had swallowed her up and I came running for that one. Bona fide screaming, I’m all over it. Screaming for the sake of getting my attention, not so much.

For anyone who still thinks I’m a monster, you must understand that in child care there are many times during the day when it is quite difficult to get to someone who needs help. I could be in the middle of a poopy diaper, or under a baby who’s getting a bottle, or making snack or lunch in the kitchen. If I have to come running every time a child screams, I will be running all day. So I’m really just trying to teach them not to cry wolf.

Soon after the hoodie episode (she never stopped screaming to ask for help, so it was still down, and Miss Judgy Dog Poo finally left) we went into the yard for swinging. Miss C happily followed me, big smile on her face, because she hadn’t won the battle of wills.

It might sound weird, but Miss C was happy because I hadn’t caved to her tantrum. She trusted that I was in charge and was not going to be moved just because she decided it was time. Kids need adults to remain calm when they’re freaking out. What does it mean if suddenly everyone is freaking out? That’s a scary world. A little one needs to know OK, I’m totally losing it but look at Amy - she’s OK. Maybe I’m OK too. Maybe this will end and we’ll all be alright.

And maybe she just needed a good cry, and I was giving her the chance to let it all out. Little kids have a lot of stress. Really. They’re learning how to regulate their emotions. It’s like when they fall down. If you go rushing over in a panic they will cry. If you stand back and say nothing, or just casually comment, “Wow! Good fall! Are you OK?” they’ll usually get up and dust themselves off.

I’m not proud of this experience (“Look at me, I conquered the screaming child!”), it’s just part of the dance of trust and love. To an outsider it may seem wrong not to run to a child every time they cry, but it is in fact teaching the child that there are right ways and wrong ways of doing things. If I let her get away with doing it the wrong way, she’d know the next time she wanted me all she had to do was scream, and that she was in charge instead of the grownup, and my point was lost. AND that she can get what she wants in life by screaming. Ick.

(And I’m back to running every time they call. And then they find me in the hospital with a nervous breakdown.)

When we got in the yard it was hot in the sun. I saw one pink hoodie flung in the grass and one happy kid running toward the swingset.

Don’t Feel Bad When Your Crying Baby Makes You Crazy

Posted on by Amy Pybus
6

Someone came to my blog with this thought the other day: “can’t cope with baby crying makes me angry then feel guilty”

Oh, sweetie. Don’t feel bad, we’ve all been there. Know that unless you are somehow abusing that child for crying, you’re fine. And, like everything in parenting: this too shall pass.

And that when my baby’s crying used to make me insane, I would go downstairs and beat up the washing machine. (Sorry, Dave.)

Know that a baby’s cry is DESIGNED to bother us. They are helpless, and their cry is their way of getting us to take care of them. There is scientific proof that when a baby cries, our pulse and heart rate increase. I know it’s true, I can feel it all the time. To this day if there’s a baby crying in my house it gets me totally agitated. And that’s what the sound is supposed to do. It’s so you’ll go running over and help that little baby. Mother nature knows self-preservation.

When I had my babies my mother used to say, “You check them and if they’re fed, changed, burped, and they don’t have a pin sticking in them – they’re fine.” (She had me back in the olden days when diapers had pins, apparently.) She told me stories of her friend who would put the baby in her crib and go outside and walk in circles around the house until the baby would stop crying because she couldn’t stand the noise.

I thought, Who were these cretins who raised us!? We don’t let our babies cry! We rock and soothe and calm them lovingly until they drift off into peaceful baby slumbers.

But let’s be honest. How well has that worked for us? We create babies who can’t fall asleep on their own and cry and cry until we pick them up, and we create endless back and neck aches for ourselves because we’re soothing them all the time.

Not to mention the stress on you and your family when you spend a good chunk of your day attempting to soothe the baby, while food goes uncooked and clothes go unwashed and the rest of your life, in general, falls to pieces.

I also remember when Mom and I first went shopping for baby stuff together. She was wandering up and down the aisles saying, “Where are the playpens? Are these the playpens?” (Referring to the pack-n-plays.)

Oh Mother, that’s just another thoughtless, horrible, neglectful thing that we don’t do to our children anymore.

OK, I hate to say it, but… my mother was right. (Just kidding Mom!)

But back to crying. Babies cry, it’s what they do. I remember hearing, “You’ll learn to read his cries,” and thinking, are you nuts? I have no idea what this baby wants! (Except to torture me.) But it’s true. If nothing else, you can at least tell the difference between real distress and just fussy-crying.

If they’re fussy-crying and you’re losing it, put them down (crib, bouncy seat, whatever) and walk away. They’ll be OK, and you need to calm down or things will just escalate for both of you. I make it a rule not to carry around a crying baby (unless it’s real distress). Why do I want to bring that noise closer to my ear?

Sometimes we think that they need us to comfort them when honestly, they need a break too. They can get fussier from being over-handled, which is definitely something I never learned with my first. That poor kid was man-handled for months. Every time he peeped I went running over to soothe him. And he didn’t learn to fall asleep by himself until he was over a year old. My fault.

If your baby is still little (6 months or less), I would highly recommend swaddling. Harvey Karp’s Happiest Baby on the Block has a good description of it. You have to do it right – nice and tight, don’t be scared – for it to really work. I guarantee you it does. I know you’re worried about squishing their little body but think about how squished they were in your belly! That’s tight. So they’re used to that feeling, it’s comforting to them.

If your baby is crying all the time, can’t be settled, and just seems unhappy, you’ve probably already considered colic. Talk to your doctor about it. They might agree and help you out, or they might tell you that babies cry and to live with it. If the crying is bad enough to distress you, I would advise that you push your doctor. Even if they still think it’s not colic, maybe they can help you get some support.

I had one delightful, sweet, beautiful girl in my day care who, even up until she was about three years old, cried every day. When she was a baby her mother would worry and I told her, “Babies cry.” She seemed to think that was a good answer (thanks Shelb!). Miss A was just a very emotional little thing, and it’s how she dealt with her feelings. As she got older I could tell she needed this release to help her move on with her day. So when she started to get wound up, I would encourage her go in the hall and cry all she wanted. When she was done she’d come back in the room with us and literally be fresh-faced and happy. Honest.

I don’t know if you’re having trouble with the baby sleeping, but I’ll get on this tangent because I know it was my biggest weakness when my son was first born.

Would you like to know how we got him to sleep? I remember trying to put him down to cry it out and my husband and I sitting on the edge of the bed biting our nails, and after ten minutes looking at each other and saying, “I CAN’T DO THIS!” If we’d only waited five more minutes!!! So we would do one of these awesome tricks: Drive him in the car. Walk around the house pushing him in a stroller (inside the house, it was January). Walk around and bounce him in the baby sling. Stay up for hours while he fussed. Or I’d lay in bed nursing him for hours on end.

Not a pretty picture.

So having said that, I’ll admit that nowadays I do I Ferber-ize babies. When infants first come to me, I soothe them to sleep until they’re about six months old. It is easier then because they nod off while feeding and you just have to lay them down without waking them up. As they get older, I don’t have the luxury of holding one baby until they sleep when I have four other kids who need to go down for nap too. Plus once they get to be 6 months and over, I pretty much can’t hold them anymore unless I want my back out all week. It does work if you can stand the crying. Once they understand that you’re not coming back, and that when they’re in the crib with music/white noise on, lights out, binky/bear/blankie in hand, they get the cues. Ferber-izing really works after a few days (and it’s not as evil as the rumors say; check the link above for some really good information).

If you can’t stand that method, use Supernanny’s. Or stay in the room with them so they can see you and they’re not scared, but give NO response. The idea is you don’t want to engage with them. As soon as you do they’ve won and any time you’ve put in up until now is shot. No eye contact, no picking up (unless they’ve crawled out of bed), no talking, NOTHING. You can even pretend to go to sleep yourself. In fact this method is pretty close to Ferber-izing anyway.

I’ll admit it’s easy for a day care provider to say that these methods work, because it is easier to listen to a baby cry when it’s not from your loins. But I’ve raised about twenty babies now (and even more toddlers and preschoolers who didn’t want to sleep either), and they’ve all done pretty well. They may go to sleep yelling, but they wake with happy smiles for me.

And I want to tell you, never beat yourself up for being human. The world puts a lot of pressure on us these days to be Perfect Mommies. And the world forgets that babies aren’t perfect, and they cry alot. Loudly. And no mommy, no matter how perfect she is, can tolerate that all the time, especially after that baby kept her up all night. We are not saints! But we’re expected to be the sweetest mommy there ever was, even when they are making us insane. It’s not logical. We are human and we feel upset too, and guess what – we still have needs (even if our lives have suddenly been hijacked by a very demanding 10-pound need-machine).

And, um, this isn’t the first time you will lose it on your child and then feel guilty. You should probably get used to it because it never ends. It’s just the fun of parenting! And being human, remember? Refer to this post if you’re totally depressed now.

It’s the dark side of parenting. It’s the part of parenting that all the baby books and experts and even your mommy friends don’t tell you about. They don’t tell you how much labor actually hurts, or what it feels like to be up at 3AM for the fifth (or sixtieth) night in a row, or how really, really hard it is to raise kids. They do it because, well, they want you to be happy. And who wants to make their new mommy friend depressed?

And how would you explain it anyway? Because just as you can’t explain the hard stuff, you also can’t explain the intense, completely foreign, almost cosmic* connection that you have with your baby. And how you love him so much that you ache inside.

But anyway. Babies aren’t always as sweet, calm, and content as the ads and tv shows and, basically, parenting culture, would have us believe. Sometimes they are demons, and we have to learn how to control our own response to the very strong emotions that brings up in us. As I said earlier, just walk away. At any age. Gather yourself and don’t come back until you’re calmer. You don’t want your first response to be the one your child remembers. Because they are wonderful and beautiful, they just need our love and guidance and HELP to make it through this whole growing-up thing.

So put that baby down, take a breath, brew some coffee, and go back to help them when you’ve got a better grip on yourself. Or go beat the crap out of the washing machine.

*I actually looked in the thesaurus (yes I am a total geek) to find another word there because “cosmic” felt too hippie crunchy. But the definition of cosmic was “immeasurably extended in space or time; vast,” and yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about my kids.