My husband, partner and best friend...

I know that a lot of times dads get a bad rap: they don't have to be pregnant, breastfeed or deliver babies, tend to be the non-primary caregiver, get more easily frustrated with the kiddos, fail to understand what it is like to be home all day with children and sometimes say things that make us moms want to kill them (e.g., What dooo you do all day?). 

But as I am here laying in bed sick this morning, I could not help but reflect on everything that Mike does - that make him an epic father and husband. Even though Mike has always had a well-oiled, ridiculously regimented wake-up schedule before he goes to work, he altered it so that he can get up early with Wilson allowing me to sleep a few more precious hours before he has to leave. He gets up in the morning, changes and feeds Wilson, getting him dressed and often making more homemade formula (since my son drinks it like he's a frat boy, and rather than formula, we've replaced it with gin and juice). He gets dressed very quickly, coming to give me a goodbye kiss, only waking me up at the last possible moment, so I can spend the most time sleeping. He works all day as a Physical Education teacher, running around with elementary school students - seeing all 600 of them in a week. And somehow, unlike me with my PE teacher, he manages to make most of them enjoy it. He is always doing new fun things (a real-life replica of Angry Birds and Plants vs. Zombies, Dancing, etc.), helps with the PTA and does extra things like work on Cultural events for the school. He comes immediately home after work, often bringing me a treat or flowers. I try very hard not to throw Wilson at him the moment he comes home (most of the time I am good at that!), but Wilson often attacks him for a big hug as soon as he hears the door open. After a busy and exhausting day, I often haven't had time to do the dishes - and Mike seeing them, will often, without me ever having to ask, clean them up. He will often take Wilson for a walk so that I can get some rest after being full-time mommy all day, he helps me feed and bathe him; and when I'm not feeling well (like these last few days), he will put him to bed. Knowing I didn't feel well last night, he rubbed my shoulders, kissed me on the temple and asked me how I was feeling. Then he went to bed early, so he could get up early and start this whole process over again. Probably the most amazing thing about Mike is that he worries that he doesn't do enough or that he should never feel cranky. He worries about building a relationship with Wilson that is strong and reads parenting books and magazines late at night that I sometimes veto for freaking him out too much.

I know I am not alone; because of the new family dynamics, men are really stepping up and helping out around the house, with the kids and balancing their masculine roles with more nurturing and feminine ones. They aren't afraid to babywear, gush over their babies, enjoy snuggling and want to be more engaged with their children. Just like women who are balancing multiple roles in this new culture and generation, they are trying to settle into a new role in which they were not prepared, did not see modeling for and often feel like they are unsure of how well they are doing in it. They have worries, anxieties, fears about their gender role and how they are as a parent; except they were not socialized with the emotional and verbal skills (or the freedom to do so without mockery) to express their feelings.

So my reflection for today: I'm incredibly lucky to have Mike as a partner, to have him as the father to my son. I have every confidence that Wilson will grow up knowing what it means to be a good man and a good dad because he gets to see it everyday.

Toddlers: Cute, Cuddly, Little Jerks

This past week, Mike and I were exhausted from Wilson's teething drama and accompanying miserable mood, not feeling well and laid near catatonic on the couch after putting him to bed. Mike lifted his head slightly to say to me, "Honey, I love Wilson more than life himself. But is it just me or is he a little jerk sometimes?" I sighed, "Yep. Yep, he certainly is." Although it sounds awful to say out loud, there is no other way to describe his behavior.

It's not that he is not sweet a lot of the time. He has the best smiles, he loves to hug and cuddle, he has an epic sense of humor, his laughs are contagious and he has become, in every sense of the word, my life. But, like the Force in Star Wars, he has a dark side. 

He bites, he pinches, he screams at the highest pitch possible even though he knows it shreds our ears, he laughs at you when you get hurt, he tries to hit the dogs and pull their tails, he likes to bang things together, rip pages out of books, steal my keys, bash things against the wall, make a ridiculous amount of noise, slam doors, play in the garbage, stomp his feet in anger, collapse screaming when he doesn't get his way, pick my shirt up to poke my belly fat and laugh maniacally, check to see how firm I am feeling about that "no" I just shouted, pull all the clothes out of the hamper, slap my face and pull my hair. And that was just today.

Yes, he is teething and miserable. Yes, he is challenged by his difficult temperament. Yes, he looks confused, frustrated and sincerely upset most of the time. He's not intentionally being a jerk. But it's hard to remember that when he leans down to bite me in the boob.

Is Wilson some freak toddler jerk of nature? Here's the worst part that most parents do not dare speak of their toddlers. THEY ARE ALL LIKE THIS. Once in awhile you get one that is calm, naturally empathic, sweet and kind. You won the freaking lottery. The rest act like a tiny drunk, slightly crazy uncle that you don't ever want to visit you. When I take Wilson to MyGym to play with other kids his age, it is clear that all of his little toddler friends are little jerks. They hate sharing, try to smack each other whenever possible; even when they are interested in each other, they poke each other in the face or pull each other's hair. There's a sweet-looking little girl that likes to throw other toddlers from her path if they are in her way of enjoying a toy she feels is hers. These children are selfish, mean and completely happy to grab a toy from any unsuspecting friend. The embarrassed parents do their best to keep other children safe from their own toddler's wrath when things do not go their way; you just tiredly nod in gratitude when they caught their own toddler's hand before it made contact with your toddler's face. These children are walking Freudian IDs; they have no reference for others' feelings because they haven't learned to do so yet.

Some don't ever learn this. I know many adults, albeit they do not actively participate in assault as readily as a toddler, that cannot handle their temper, have issues being empathic to others, are not kind nor compassionate. They trouble other people, hurt feelings and fail at personal relationships. And despite all of my training and education, it was during the moment that Mike and I lay near comatose on our couch, that I realized it: with the exception of children with special needs/mental health diagnoses, it was their parents that failed them and allowed them to grow up to be adult jerks.

This sucks. You have so much pressure as a parent. Add on top of that if that you fail, your kid is "that kid" - the kid that is mean, a bully, that hits others and has no understanding of respect. And hence is the hardest thing I have learned so far about parenting a toddler. Toddlers do not come with innate social and emotional skills. They do not understand how to treat others; they only know what they feel and what they want. They understand their own feelings of frustration, anger, intrigue, sadness, pain. Empathy is not within their comprehension since they barely understand that other people are separate from them. "Oh you tripped on my toy and almost fell on your head? That was hilarious because it did not hurt me! But not allowing me to play in the toilet makes me feel frustrated and upset. How could you, Mom? How could you?!!"

It is our job as parents to not only teach them how to act, but to MODEL how to act. We show them every day with our behavior what is appropriate, how to not be selfish, how to be kind and compassionate. It's not enough that we say "no" and provide guidance; we HAVE to model patience with them, even when they are frustrating us.

But this is so hard when you are dealing with a miniature frat boy. Try staying calm and compassionate when they throw their hands in their poop while you are changing their diaper. Or when they rip off the place-mat on the table, breaking a glass when you are all barefoot and have three dogs. Or rip your earrings out of your ears. Try calmly applying discipline when you get bitten on the butt, slapped in the face or have your hair pulled. Some days, I just focus on living moment to moment. I take a lot of deep breaths. I count the minutes before Mike gets home from school, thank God that Susi is coming over, pray that he sleeps longer in the mornings and hope that his teeth come in so he is less miserable before he learns how to wield weaponry. 

More than that I pray and hope that I can be strong. Strong enough to teach him how to be a good person, not with my words, but with my actions. No matter how obnoxious he is and no matter how I need to discipline him, I want him to see me being calm, patient, loving, kind and compassionate and always acting with his best interest at heart. I want him to be a good person, to think of others and to be successful in his life and to find true happiness, while always showing respect for himself, his family, his friends and his environment.

And more than anything, I want him to be a good father someday to a completely obnoxious toddler so he can call me and say, "How the heck did you not kill me?" And I will calmly say, "Sweetie, it was harder than escaping poverty, recovering from depression, graduating from Yale, going through a 50-hour labor, staying calm while being interviewed on live television and time managing 4 jobs, a marriage and a baby PUT TOGETHER. But if your father and I could do it, so can you."

It's all about perspective...

So the other night I was with a fellow academic mama (Kari) and we were chatting about how intensely our whole lives have changed since becoming a parent. She recounted a story she heard before she had kids where a well-respected social worker colleague told her about why she was concerned for teenage parents. She relayed her story: she was in her early 30's with her first pregnancy; her marital relationship was strong and she identified as a calm, collected person. Kari confirmed that she was pretty much a female Buddha. But, the calm persona hit a wall when she had a baby...with colic. There were many times where she had to get her husband to take the baby so she did not throw the baby down the stairs...seriously. Kari, in her pre-parent perspective, listened horrified. Now, as she recounted the story, post-parent status, we both nodded in complete understanding and empathy. Yep, been there.

It got me thinking, however, how much and in what ways does your perspective change after becoming a parent? With the risk of scaring the bejesus out of pre-parent individuals, I give you the largest and most honest changes in perspective from pre-parent life to the post-Wilson apocalypse.

 

Perspective of Sleep

What, again, is sleep? Wilson did not really sleep through the night until after a year and since he is teething his molars, he still gets up at least once a night. Getting him to sleep and stay asleep was painful, torturous and uncomfortable for both of us. Before Wilson, I slept 9 hours a night and took naps during the day when I felt like it. I went to bed when I wanted and got up when I wanted. Hold on. I'm drooling a little just reminiscing. Now, I get interrupted sleep (a whole year's worth) and for 8 months, he still was getting up around 5 times a night. Insomnia is a thing of the past, as when it is time to sleep, I literally just fall down and start snoring. When I hear something over the monitor, I immediately awake and a sense of panic sets in. No, No, No, Noooooooooooo. Put yourself back to sleep. You can do it.... DO IT. DO IT. Sob. Sob (that's me sobbing by the way). CRAP. Zombie walk to get the bottle, rock him, wait until his little legs relax (the predictor of whether he will go back into the crib or not) and then stumble down the stairs to collapse for 4 more hours of sleep. 

 

Perspective of My Own Parents

Pre-Wilson, I had a great relationship with my parents. With age, I began to understand why they made certain decisions, even if I didn't agree with all of them. However, after becoming a parent, the huge shock of how difficult it is just to keep a child alive dawns on you. Every time you mouthed back, gave them cause to worry or took money from them without thought makes you feel like an ungrateful brat. I should pay them for keeping me alive to my teenage years. Seriously, Wilson would gladly dive down the stairs, sometimes throws himself headfirst onto the floor, throw himself from the couch with great abandon, smashes his head/hands/face into cupboards, sticks his fingers into things which could either get them stuck or cut them and that's all with a COMPLETELY baby-safe environment. Seriously, I live in a gated prison.

 

Perspective of Partner

I found that my perspective of my partner has changed significantly since having a baby. At first, the lack of sleep and change of life made us crazy, but now every day that I see how he steps up to the plate, looks at our son with love and thinks about us in everything he does, it makes me love him even more. But it took a good 11 months after Wilson was born for us to feel back in love with each other. Right after Wilson was born, we were cranky, over-tired and wanted to shake each other for saying stupid things. He did not understand my perspective, nor did I his. We were frankly too sleep-deprived and stressed to engage with each other in a healthy, productive way. Date nights were just short dinners followed by napping because we were so tired. There were several times when I actually said to him, "I have to stop talking to you because I want to punch you in the face." And I wasn't kidding or being hyperbolic. We are back to working as a loving, well-oiled machine, but we definitely had a breakdown and it was frightening to think that we had such conflict with being a near-perfect couple before a baby.

 

Perspective of Time

What the heck did I do with all my time before? Now I have to schedule time to shower, go through my mail and check my email. Not kidding. Pre-baby, I spent a whole summer leveling my characters from World of Warcraft. Seriously. I did nothing else besides eat, sleep, bathe and play WoW with Mike. We had no responsibilities (over the summer) and no one that needed us. For all intensive purposes, we shared summers of retirement. Now, our summers are more work than the time during the school year! From 5 a.m. to 7 p.m., we are slaves to a little man less than 3 feet tall, the house that we bought that was supposed to be mostly care-free and to time. Slaves. The time I had to kill before becoming a parent, now I weep for - what I would give for one full day to do whatever I want, with no worries, no guilt and no interruptions. Well, here's looking to retirement!

 

Perspective of Body

I have always had body issues. But when I was pregnant, I found myself loving my big belly. What a change. In fact, in the first trimester, i was begging for it to get bigger so that I indeed looked pregnant, not overly-full from a high-caloric meal. When I did get gargantuan, I still was proud of my body. I was proud of how it created Wilson and how it survived a long birth process. Pre-baby, there were parts of my body I didn't like. For women, our chest is a very important part of who we are and how attractive we feel. What men do not often pay attention to is that both halves of your chest are not typically the same size, leading to many hours of inspection, dismay and disgust for the one side you really dislike. I had that experience until post-Wilson. When my milk came in, the larger side that I never liked suddenly delivered about 3 times as much milk as the other side. I was never so happy for an oversized boob before. Finally, post-baby, your body SIGNIFICANTLY changes. That flat belly is no more. Unless you are a lying celebrity who has surgey and personal trainers, your body starts to look like a mom-body. Even though I was not skinny before Wilson, my belly was not that large. The other day I stood up quickly and heard my belly "flap'. It flapped. Seriously. I was slightly horrified, but given my lack of sleep and time to care, I thought "huh" and went on with my day.

 

Perspective of Other Moms

I am not a judgmental person by any stretch of the imagination, but I used to see what other  moms would do with their children and think - I don't think I could do that. I had my beautiful book knowledge, behavioral responses, developmental theory and thought that would serve me well. It's not that this hasn't. It certainly helps. But nothing prepares you for how you will react when your child does something insane. Like bite your butt. Yep. Wilson, as he is teething, sometimes likes to bite our arms, butt, thighs, etc. He's a freaking shark. I used to hear other moms yell a lot and thought - I'm just not that kind of person. Well, guess what, with lack of sleep and a set of teeth firmly placed on your ass, you will yell. I've fallen asleep on the floor. I've forgotten to shower for days. I've called in our babysitter for a mental health day. I am one of those moms.

 

Perspective of Yourself

I have always been commended on my patience. In fact, others have literally said, "You seriously have the patience of Job." And outside of giving my mother technical assistance via the phone on her computer, that is very true. I am patient and compassionate with everyone. But, after having a child, I have felt this part of me seriously challenged. Can you still be patient when your toddler bites your boob? Try it. You know that he's teething and doesn't know what he's doing, but FREAKING OW!!!!! It took everything I had not to throw him. I remember when he was 4 months old and would only sleep for 40 minutes at a time, I kept rocking him, praying to the gods and goddesses of the world (really whoever was listening at 3 a.m.) to get him to sleep. He would almost be asleep, then throw his arm out, accidentally slapping me in the face, waking himself up and screaming at full volume again. I had to wake up Mike because, again, I was afraid I was going to throw him. As a toddler, he became obsessed with doors. Anytime one was open, he had to run to it and open and close it for half an hour. If you closed it, he would throw himself on the floor in his best dramatic overture, scream at the top of his lungs and bang his head on the floor. Being a developmental psychologist, I knew exactly what my responsive parental behavior was supposed to be. Have empathy, soothe, identify his emotion and help him recover, then reward him for the recovery. But it took everything I had not to open the door again and sprint out of it. Being a mother is hard. Being a good mother is even harder. But, thanks to the wonderful support I do have in my life, I've never thrown Wilson, I've never been rough with him, I've never failed to be responsive in the way that he needs me to be. He knows he's loved, he knows that I (or daddy) will always be there for him and he sees me take breaths with him when I am teaching him how to control his frustration (and mine). And that is the biggest change I have embraced as a mother. I'm not perfect; I never will be. I have wanted to throw my child across the room, I have wanted to run away. But I have not done those things and I never will. I didn't realize how hard this mommy gig would be, nor did I realize that I would slowly have the strength to meet these challenges as they come, being patient with myself, working as a team with my husband and asking for help when I needed it. These struggles have made me a better teacher, worker, counselor and person. Pre-baby I thought it would be me shaping the life of my little one; post-baby, I realize that it is he that has shaped me and made my life challenging, real and wonderfully whole.