The Beginning and End of Crib Season

I snagged my son’s crib off a listing on Craigslist.

It was an Ikea one, simple but sturdy, and came with the mattress. All for $40. I stood in the Craigslist stranger’s garage, surrounded by other outgrown baby gear and two kids who rode their bikes in and out without much regard for who was in the way. The original owner told me how to put it together, and as I handed her the money and put the pieces in my Jeep, I wondered if she was sad to be giving up this season of her motherhood. On the outside she didn’t seem to be. She seemed relieved that it was going, making space for the next one.  

Like many naïve first time moms, I thought that crib would be used right away.

Read more at Sarasota Moms Blog. 

Riding the Wave

The gulf isn’t known for it’s waves. You won’t find any surfer dudes down here, just tourists on floaties and locals stroking by in their stand up paddle board clubs. But recently when we went to the beach and heard the waves breaking from the parking lot, we knew some decent swells awaited us. As we stepped off the boardwalk and onto the white, shimmering sand, we could see that the crests were several feet high.

M took to the ocean the first time he met it at a year and a half old. We took him out to the beach the day we moved here, and I saw him fall in love as he touched the sand, first with just a finger tip and then his whole, chubby hand, and let the water kiss his toes. A year and some months after that first encounter, he rarely hesitates to get in.

This day was different. I’m sure a lot of it had to do with the intensity of the waves, but his fear was evident as he stayed on dry sand. Now almost three, he’s at an age where fear is starting to creep into his life more and more. At bedtime he tells me he doesn’t want the dark in his room and so he has two night lights and the door stays open until he falls asleep. Scary characters on TV elicit a “Don’t like that mommy,” and he sees imaginary monsters hiding around the corner.

  

As he starts to understand more of the world around him, he also starts to lose the sacred ignorance I wish he could keep. 

So how can I help him navigate his fears?

Acknowledge and asses the fear. The waves were high and the noise of the force of the water hitting land was loud. The usually clear water was dark and the ocean floor was hidden. M’s fear was legitimate and he didn't know what to do with it. He turned from the water's edge and ran back to the safety of my arms. I told him it’s ok to feel afraid, but that the waves on this day, while unusual, were not too big for him to deal with.

Show the way. M saw other kids playing in the water and his Dad walk out first. Ryan encouraged M to follow, splashing the water and joyfully jumping into the rolling waves. Then, when M was still unsure, Ryan carried him out and held him as the ocean broke over them both and patiently waited until M had enough confidence to stand by himself.

Praise for overcoming. Soon M was facing the waves on his own. He saw one building, knew it was coming, and instead of turning away he jumped into it. He came to shore, sand and a smile plastered to his face. “I rode the wave, mama!” “Yes you did buddy,” I replied as I wrapped him in a salty hug, “You did so good!”

Overcoming fear isn’t unique to the little ones, and as an adult I often find myself in similar situations. My fears look different than his (although I don’t always like big waves or scary monsters either) but they can be tackled in the same way. When I’m dealing with a fear I need to figure out if it’s a warning or a hindrance. Is it protecting me from an unsafe situation, or is it keeping me from an experience that could be perfectly harmless? I need to find someone that’s been there before. Sometimes I need others to show me the way first, and I might need to be carried for a while until my legs feel strong enough to carry myself. And I need to know I did good. When I am recognized for accomplishing something despite my fears, I have faith that I can do it again.

There have been a few more big wave days since that time and M has continued to conquer his fear. Now when he knows we’re headed to the beach, he fearlessly claims that he’s going to ride all the waves. 

Mama Power

"His love for me, reflected in his eyes and bubbling over in his laugh, is one of his many superpowers. My love for him is my mama power."

My mini essay on Mama Power was published as part of Tribe Magazine's Power in Motherhood series.

To the Toddler Mom in the Deep End

Hey you, yeah you, the mama over there with the toddler that just got out of the pool and is running for the exit. I see you. I see you chasing him and telling him he can’t leave without you. I see you as he yells and twists out of your grasp until you’re just hanging on to a kicking leg. I see the anger and desperation in your eyes.

I see you.

For you motherhood was like stepping into a slightly chilly pool. Uncomfortable and unknown at times, but you always stayed where you could touch. Your head was always above the water and postpartum was more of a high than a low. You loved being a mom from day one and even though there were a few waves in the beginning the waters soon smoothed and warmed. Your baby adjusted effortlessly through developmental stages and you didn’t really relate to the mom-talk of regressions and overwhelming sleep deprivation. For a good two years you floated along with a smile on your face and a tiny bit of a chip on your shoulder. Maybe you just got lucky or maybe God had mercy on you because he knew what was coming.

Toddlerhood threw you right in the deep end where the warm water has turned to ice. You are flailing and choking and you can’t get a grip on the edge. You weren’t ready for the battle of wills, the screaming, and the talking back. You don’t know how to respond when he won’t follow a simple command like putting on his clothes. He wants to brush his teeth himself but gets mad at you when he can’t get the cap off of the toothpaste. When you give him the wrong cup at dinner he acts like you killed the dog. He uses the toilet at school but refuses to even sit on the one at home.  “Because I don’t want to” is his favorite phrase and you’re tempted to have it tattooed on him. You’re not confident in your discipline methods because nothing seems to work. He can sense this weakness and so he doesn’t take you seriously. You resort to having your partner be the bad guy. You feel inadequate and it’s pulling you under.

I see you and you’re not alone. I’m here too.

So what do we do? We remember that the little terrors we see in front of us today were not always and will not always be. We try to think about how the world looks to them as they try to figure out. We give them the space, options, and tools they need to express themselves. We hold on tight to the sweet moments, like when they tell you about their day in their two-year old vocabulary, give you an unexpected kiss, or laugh hysterically at something you never thought was funny before.

We can claw our way out together. I’ll give you a boost and you can pull me up. Rumor is that moms do survive this, and they’re waiting for us under the umbrellas with words of encouragement, war stories, and wine.