Tag Archives: feelings

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.

Blog Posts: Vacation Edition

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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It’s a holiday week (yeay) which means I won’t get any work done, so I have some quick updates instead.

First, take a look at this excellent and moving blog post by my friend, Jennifer Levi, reflecting on the transgender rights bill that was passed in Massachusetts last week.

Also, I have a new Gazette article taking aim at a pretty easy target: the Penn State debacle. But am I taking a cheap shot, or speaking the truth that no one else can afford to?

And the brandy-new post I just included below, originally featured on OwnaDayCare, which started quite an interesting debate over curriculum standards. I feel they’re too high, and I’m reminded of it every time I attempt a curriculum project (such as the handprint turkeys we made today while one child who doesn’t like projects threw a tantrum, and one really did a good job, and one painted the entire table with glue, and we all got frustrated and/or bored at some point during the course of the activity).

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

On Saying You’re Sorry

Posted on by Amy Pybus
4

Let’s just be up front about this. My policy is that I make kids say they’re sorry. But for some reason I find myself defending that policy all the time. People don’t want to do this because it will upset their child, or they don’t want to force them to do something they don’t want to do, or they think it doesn’t matter because the kids don’t understand anyway.

Trust me. They understand.

(That’s another fact I’ve been defending for a long time and let me tell you, working with kids and trying to explain them to adults, sometimes I feel like Don Quixote.)

But anyway. I remember it came up on the school playground one day. One of my boys came over to me feeling and looking very sad because of something his brother did (as usual, can’t remember what the fight was about, just that everyone was mad).

I called my other son over and told him that what he did to his brother was wrong. He said, “Sorry,” to me and I said, “Don’t say sorry to me, say you’re sorry to him.”

That’s my standard line. I love it. I use it on everyone in my house, even my husband.

It was around the time when I first met Natalie and she wanted to know if I really thought it would work. I said it doesn’t work with all kids all the time, but my boys know what it means and yeah, I do think it works.

Sure enough we watched the two of them talking and then off they went, running and laughing together like the crazy hyenas they are.

One of my friends had a fight with her husband and when he tried to explain himself she told him, “Just say you’re sorry. We make the kids say it all the time. It’s your way of showing the people you love that you really care about them.”

Saying sorry means humbling yourself. Naturally we proud humans don’t like to do that. Kids don’t want to do it because saying you’re sorry means admitting you were wrong. Who wants to do that?! But our job as parents is to teach our children that yes, in fact, believe it or not, sometimes they ARE wrong! And they have to do something to fix it.

And our other job is to admit that yes, in fact, sometimes WE are wrong! And we teach our children how to apologize when we apologize to them. Seriously. The word “sorry” comes out of my mouth about a hundred times a day. It shows kids that while I am the boss, I’m fair and I know when I screw up. But I’m going to make it right and work harder next time not to let it happen again.

Or, simply, “Yikes I didn’t mean to drop that and I’m so sorry it hit you! Are you OK? It was an accident!” Sometimes that’s all it takes to calm someone, but even in that simple situation kids don’t know how to say they’re sorry. They just kind of sit there staring at the hurt child. So I tell them, “She’s hurt and scared – can you tell her you’re sorry and give her a hug? We know you didn’t mean it.”

Now if, of course, if a child is not willing to say they’re sorry, I’m not going to literally force them to do it (unless it’s my own kid, that’s my perogative. KIDDING!!!). But I do have a standard little lecture that I give them (and take great pleasure in doing – hey I’ve gotta get my kicks somehow). Here’s the lecture:

“OK, I see you don’t want to say you’re sorry right now but what you did was wrong. You really hurt your friend’s feelings, and she’s not going to want to play with you because of that.”

God, even writing it makes me feel a little better. There are some things I’m not very good at in this business. Getting kids to clean up is the first that comes to mind. But this interpersonal stuff, this I’m good at for some reason. I think it’s because making my kids feel safe and protected is the most important thing to me.

So yeah, sometimes I make kids do something they don’t really want to do. But when they do, they’ve made a big step toward maturity. And they’re better people for it. Trust me.

Mom, I Finished the Book

Posted on by Amy Pybus
Reply

Gotta catch em allYounger Son recently became obsessed with those fancy sticker books you can get at Barnes & Noble. For Easter his Grammy bought him a Pokemon one and he’s been working on it in fits and starts since then.

At the same time Older Son got obsessed with a Pokemon DS game, so my world is filled with evolutions and Dan’s throwing style and fights over who’s Legendary and who’s not.

One evening while Older was at trampoline class and I had to bring Younger along to watch, we sat in the bleachers and put stickers in the book. I don’t think I could have been more content doing anything else. Ever.

I haven’t seen him this serious about something in a long time. He was trying to finish it this morning when I headed up for my shower. A few minutes later I heard him come into the bathroom and say in a very serious voice, “Mommy. I finished the book.”

I said “Yeah, that’s GREAT! I’ll be down in a minute to see it!” I knew in that moment my sacred duty as a mother. To be thrilled for him, and proud, and make a big to-do because he’d accomplished this little goal.

A sticker book might not seem like a very big deal, but this means a lot to him. He wants my approval and I will give it and then some. Because my job is to make him proud of himself, build him up, and give him strength to go out and face the world.

As these thoughts went through my mind, I remembered a moment last week when I dropped him off at school. Our lives are so busy and separated and constant that, while I worry about how he’s doing at school all day, I never really know what’s happening. I can’t picture everything he’s going through as he moves through his day, and being a boy-with-a-capital-B, he never tells me.

As he put his backpack in the line he stopped and looked down at the ground as if he was lost in thought. His face was so peaceful and beautiful, it was one of those times where I caught my breath and thought, is that MY KID? But I also saw something apprehensive in his look, as if he was happy in the moment, but there was something bothering him.

I wondered if it was fear, or stress, or if he was thinking about something bad that happened. I remember heading into school in the morning, even on a good day, feeling a weight on my shoulders. I could see all of this in his face and it made me want to run over and grab him and bring him home with me where I can protect him from everything forever. And somehow preserve that happy-go-lucky kid without the scars that life will hand him.

I know that’s all a bit melodramatic and I say it, like most moms would, half-serious and half-tongue-in-cheek. But lately, I just want to hold onto my little boy as long as I can.