Dear Baby Boy Flaherty,
Your sisters are very excited to help take care of you.
They practice their skills on their baby dolls every day.
Enjoy the peace and quiet in there.
Love, Mommy
Friday, March 25, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The Lonely Parent
Our society puts a lot of emphasis on the value of individualism. If you work hard, if you learn to stand on your own two feet, you can do anything. If you fail or stumble, just work harder. In many ways, I believe in this. I teach my children this. And yet, I spent most of yesterday being confronted and reminded of all of the ways that it can hinder us. Because this idea, this goal, also seems to imply that we should not need to ask for help and that we should not air our problems. Our problems are our own fault, of course, so we need to- on our own- figure out how to fix them.
This, of course, is rarely a good course of action. A student of mine failed a course for a mistake that she does not fully understand. To her, an excellent student, this is the end of the world. And she- of course- does not want to talk to anyone about it. We have all been 22, we have all had these moments- and yet we survived. Noone can take away the pain, but being able to share those feelings of panic and being reassured and perhaps even comforted helps a little. Because her life is not over, her career is not over. I can help, others can help her... but only if she can resist the part of individualism that says that needing help is bad. She will still have to work hard on her own and learn from her mistakes, but reaching out will make it so much easier.
One friend has just shared a miscarriage. What a horrible, lonely, scary place to be in. And yet, she had nothing to do with it, no control, but still likely feels in some way like a failure. I have had other friends go through miscarriages in the past, and many of the sentiments... along with the reluctance to share them... are the same.
I am also hearing from a few friends who are new parents lately who are struggling with some of the transitions. They are bright, incredibly capable young women with successful careers and truly accomplished lives. And yet, the introduction of one tiny infant has totally upended that identity and all of that success. Because no matter how smart or experienced you are, a newborn is hard. The transition to parenthood is hard. Pretty much everything about the experience is challenging, unfair, and confusing. It is also beautiful and amazing, but I think too often we forget to mention the less than beautiful elements of it. The problem is (and I have been there) that these wonderful, intelligent people who have been raised and done well by this notion of individualism are convinced that they should and can figure out how to deal with everything on their own. Which is, when you consider it, sort of silly. Because we have no training, no experience, and really no good way to prepare. And these newborn bosses, lets be honest, are very unreasonable and hard to predict. Unfortunately, they seem to stay that way for a while...
I think for many people the isolation of our American lives makes this much harder. Many of us are away from extended families, from those people who already have seen our dirty laundry so it is easier to share it with them once again. We should be relying on the network of friends that we have, but this is also hard. The exposure of admitting a problem is so very hard, so embarassing... often because we don't realize that others are or have been in the same place. Every so often at my house, we start off a morning with two children wrestling one another and screaming in bed, refusing to get dressed and go to the bathroom, not giving me time to eat breakfast or make my lunch, much less get everyone out of the door with enough room to be at work on time. I end up screaming, frustrated, angry, and exhausted. By 7 am. Seriously, who do I want to tell that to? But it happens. And I know (because I have told it to others) that other parents face this too.
I think that one of the best lessons that I had in being a brand new parent was through the luck of living near some relatives before and after Mariel was born. They are a caring, wonderful, successful couple who I admire very, very much. They are devoted parents and have a beautiful, smart, funny, well-behaved daughter that anyone would think is perfect. And I still saw moments where they were frustrated and unsure of what to do next. Isn't it odd how comforting that can be? How instructive? Because really, we can't do everything on our own. If they did not know everything, it was definately ok if I did not know everything. Sometimes we need help, a new perspective, or advice. Or just to know that we are not alone, that everyone else is not perfect, and that everything is not our fault if something goes wrong.
So parents, expecting parents, future parents, just know that noone is perfect. That we all need help. We are all learning how to do this, and there is really no right answer. And everything is not your fault. No matter what your children tell you when they are teenagers (or, in my case, 5 years old). Because we want to teach them that they are responsible for their own actions and choices, that they need to work to be independent and capable and do things on their own. But when they get there, remind them that it is ok to be unsure, and that it is always ok to ask for help. And that you were (or maybe still are) just as lost and unsure as they are.
Our society puts a lot of emphasis on the value of individualism. If you work hard, if you learn to stand on your own two feet, you can do anything. If you fail or stumble, just work harder. In many ways, I believe in this. I teach my children this. And yet, I spent most of yesterday being confronted and reminded of all of the ways that it can hinder us. Because this idea, this goal, also seems to imply that we should not need to ask for help and that we should not air our problems. Our problems are our own fault, of course, so we need to- on our own- figure out how to fix them.
This, of course, is rarely a good course of action. A student of mine failed a course for a mistake that she does not fully understand. To her, an excellent student, this is the end of the world. And she- of course- does not want to talk to anyone about it. We have all been 22, we have all had these moments- and yet we survived. Noone can take away the pain, but being able to share those feelings of panic and being reassured and perhaps even comforted helps a little. Because her life is not over, her career is not over. I can help, others can help her... but only if she can resist the part of individualism that says that needing help is bad. She will still have to work hard on her own and learn from her mistakes, but reaching out will make it so much easier.
One friend has just shared a miscarriage. What a horrible, lonely, scary place to be in. And yet, she had nothing to do with it, no control, but still likely feels in some way like a failure. I have had other friends go through miscarriages in the past, and many of the sentiments... along with the reluctance to share them... are the same.
I am also hearing from a few friends who are new parents lately who are struggling with some of the transitions. They are bright, incredibly capable young women with successful careers and truly accomplished lives. And yet, the introduction of one tiny infant has totally upended that identity and all of that success. Because no matter how smart or experienced you are, a newborn is hard. The transition to parenthood is hard. Pretty much everything about the experience is challenging, unfair, and confusing. It is also beautiful and amazing, but I think too often we forget to mention the less than beautiful elements of it. The problem is (and I have been there) that these wonderful, intelligent people who have been raised and done well by this notion of individualism are convinced that they should and can figure out how to deal with everything on their own. Which is, when you consider it, sort of silly. Because we have no training, no experience, and really no good way to prepare. And these newborn bosses, lets be honest, are very unreasonable and hard to predict. Unfortunately, they seem to stay that way for a while...
I think for many people the isolation of our American lives makes this much harder. Many of us are away from extended families, from those people who already have seen our dirty laundry so it is easier to share it with them once again. We should be relying on the network of friends that we have, but this is also hard. The exposure of admitting a problem is so very hard, so embarassing... often because we don't realize that others are or have been in the same place. Every so often at my house, we start off a morning with two children wrestling one another and screaming in bed, refusing to get dressed and go to the bathroom, not giving me time to eat breakfast or make my lunch, much less get everyone out of the door with enough room to be at work on time. I end up screaming, frustrated, angry, and exhausted. By 7 am. Seriously, who do I want to tell that to? But it happens. And I know (because I have told it to others) that other parents face this too.
I think that one of the best lessons that I had in being a brand new parent was through the luck of living near some relatives before and after Mariel was born. They are a caring, wonderful, successful couple who I admire very, very much. They are devoted parents and have a beautiful, smart, funny, well-behaved daughter that anyone would think is perfect. And I still saw moments where they were frustrated and unsure of what to do next. Isn't it odd how comforting that can be? How instructive? Because really, we can't do everything on our own. If they did not know everything, it was definately ok if I did not know everything. Sometimes we need help, a new perspective, or advice. Or just to know that we are not alone, that everyone else is not perfect, and that everything is not our fault if something goes wrong.
So parents, expecting parents, future parents, just know that noone is perfect. That we all need help. We are all learning how to do this, and there is really no right answer. And everything is not your fault. No matter what your children tell you when they are teenagers (or, in my case, 5 years old). Because we want to teach them that they are responsible for their own actions and choices, that they need to work to be independent and capable and do things on their own. But when they get there, remind them that it is ok to be unsure, and that it is always ok to ask for help. And that you were (or maybe still are) just as lost and unsure as they are.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Changes
I have been thinking about the many changes in my life over the past few years as we get ready for "Cutie Pie Flaherty" (Mariel's name for the baby). This weekend, amidst normal chaos and exhaustion, there were a few object lessons in how parenthood has changed me.
1- I now prefer to shower with an audience. If there is a child sitting in the bathroom while I shower, it means that said child is not getting into trouble, wrestling a sibling, injuring themselves, or making a mess.
2- Nudity is normal. Someone is generally in a state of nakedness or liable to take their clothes off at any minute in our house (I should clarify that this is rarely Patrick or I). Mariel changes multiple times a day. Noella spent part of one morning running around naked except for a strip of pink tulle wrapped around her stomach, tied off with a gold bow. She looked like a sumo wrestler's hallucination.
3- Potty talk is also part of the normal state of affairs. Noella is (still) potty training (see point number 2). Mariel is 5. So it is not unusual at all to have announcements at various times of the day related to poop, pee, farting, or peoples' "bummies." It is also not unusual to have an audience while I am going to the bathroom- and sometimes this even gets me an M&M as a reward.
4- Quiet is bad. I get nervous when there is no yelling, screaming, singing, talking, banging, or other noise. If both kids are actually awake and quiet, it generally means someone is doing something that they are not supposed to- or they are contemplating such an act. Despite this, I long for quietness. Someday it will come again.
5- I worry a lot. I guess that I always did, but now it is about entirely different things. Unlike the possibility of quietness in my house, I don't think that this will ever change.
There are MANY more things to add to this list, although most of these thoughts are a bit more melancholy. I am getting to the sleep deprived/ hormal/ over emotional state of pregnancy and am having a day where I constantly seem to be saying the wrong thing... not a good combination. So I will let my list end here, and go back to work!
I have been thinking about the many changes in my life over the past few years as we get ready for "Cutie Pie Flaherty" (Mariel's name for the baby). This weekend, amidst normal chaos and exhaustion, there were a few object lessons in how parenthood has changed me.
1- I now prefer to shower with an audience. If there is a child sitting in the bathroom while I shower, it means that said child is not getting into trouble, wrestling a sibling, injuring themselves, or making a mess.
2- Nudity is normal. Someone is generally in a state of nakedness or liable to take their clothes off at any minute in our house (I should clarify that this is rarely Patrick or I). Mariel changes multiple times a day. Noella spent part of one morning running around naked except for a strip of pink tulle wrapped around her stomach, tied off with a gold bow. She looked like a sumo wrestler's hallucination.
3- Potty talk is also part of the normal state of affairs. Noella is (still) potty training (see point number 2). Mariel is 5. So it is not unusual at all to have announcements at various times of the day related to poop, pee, farting, or peoples' "bummies." It is also not unusual to have an audience while I am going to the bathroom- and sometimes this even gets me an M&M as a reward.
4- Quiet is bad. I get nervous when there is no yelling, screaming, singing, talking, banging, or other noise. If both kids are actually awake and quiet, it generally means someone is doing something that they are not supposed to- or they are contemplating such an act. Despite this, I long for quietness. Someday it will come again.
5- I worry a lot. I guess that I always did, but now it is about entirely different things. Unlike the possibility of quietness in my house, I don't think that this will ever change.
There are MANY more things to add to this list, although most of these thoughts are a bit more melancholy. I am getting to the sleep deprived/ hormal/ over emotional state of pregnancy and am having a day where I constantly seem to be saying the wrong thing... not a good combination. So I will let my list end here, and go back to work!
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