Best Advice I Can Give To New Moms

   I remember the days back when my daughter was a baby very vividly (hasn't been that long, after all). There was a lot of fun to that stage; she was learning to new things left and right. But there was also a lot of stress. If you go to the bookstore and pick out a parenting book, they all seem to have guidelines about what your precious baby should or should not be doing, along with ages. Like at so-and-so months, your child should be rolling over, or sitting, or walking, or talking. I threw those books away early, but what I couldn't throw away was all the people, all with the best intentions, telling me that my daughter wasn't doing what she should be doing.
   My daughter, apparently, was slow to roll over. Who knew? Well, everybody except me, it seems. Then she was slow to sit up on her own without support. I had well-meaning people left and right telling me that I needed to work with her, and I would look over at my daughter, diligently working on putting her foot in her mouth, literally, and somehow I just didn't think that a kid who could bend like that was gonna have a problem  with a weak spine. I just thought that at that particular time, she had other interests. Her foot needed to be in her mouth. I figured that once she realized her toes didn't taste very good, she would work on sitting.
   Then she didn't crawl. My daughter never did learn to crawl. That's not to say that she didn't get around -- she did-- she had just found an alternative method. My daughter rolled EVERYWHERE. If she was by the TV and wanted to get to the coffee table, she would lay down on her back and start rolling towards it, giggling as she went. She was also extremely fast at the butt scoot. People stressed me out with their constant, "Your kid isn't developing as fast as she should." But I would look at her, and to me she seemed fine. She just did things differently.
   She learned to walk 'on time' but there were certain family members that expressed disappointment that she did not walk early. However, within a week of learning to walk, she figured out how to run, and everyone was too busy chasing her and too tired to complain for a while.
   Talking was never a problem. She learned to talk early, and almost from the start, she could string sentences together. She talked like a little adult, which brought on complaints about the fact that she wasn't potty training fast enough. "She's obviously smart. Why can't you get her to use the potty? You have to be firm and consistent." As if I didn't know that. I tried everything. I took away diapers and made her run around in panties and took her to the potty every hour, and none of it worked. I felt like a failure, just because my kid wouldn't use the potty at the suggested age. But eventually, I just stopped worrying about that as well, to the fury of some. But hey, I felt justified. Everything my daughter had been slow at doing, she had started doing almost perfectly once she got around to the task. I decided to wait. My daughter didn't potty train until she was four, but once she did, she never had an accident. She never wet the bed, never peed herself because she couldn't hold it; once she decided she wanted to use the toilet she did so with ease and perfection.
   This has always been how my daughter has worked. She likes to do things when she is good and ready to do them. And if she doesn't want to do them, forcing her is like trying to move a mountain. Good luck with that. Sometimes parenting is stepping back and paying attention to your child's patterns. How does your child do things? What is the norm for your child? Because your child isn't one of those neat and tidy little statistics -- your child is unique and will do things in his/her own way.
   My daughter was slow, according to all of the books, and all of the people who held her up to other kids. Today -- my daughter is twelve. She is wicked smart and has a zany, goofy, fun personality. She still does things in her own way at her own time, and that's fine, because I've learned that there can be a method to her hesitation. She's watching, listening, learning, and she'll do whatever it is when she feels good and ready, and do it with confidence.
   So that would be the advice that I would give to other mothers. All the studies in the world cannot tell you how your child will work. They will not tell you when your child should do something. They will tell you how other children work, and around what ages the majority of other children did those things -- but those children are not your children. I don't really like to give parenting advice because I am far, far from an expert, yet, at the same time, I am a mother. I have been there, stressing because my daughter wasn't doing what everyone said she should do at the age they said she should.
   And I am telling you now, all that crap means nothing. It's just crap. So my advice is not to hold your child up to crap standards that may or may not mean a damn thing. Your child will move and learn at their own pace, and if you are really worried, you can always go talk to your doctor. But don't stress out because some book, or family member, or friend said that your kid isn't learning fast enough. Your child is unique. In all of the world, there has never been another baby like the one you have now, and there never will be another one just like that baby again, so how can you compare that special baby to someone else?

My daughter at 3 months. 

My daughter around 9 months. 

She Keeps On Growing Up!!!

   For the twentieth time this evening alone, my daughter has walked into our living room and asked, "You remember that tomorrow is my fifth grade graduation, right?"
   Because I could forget? Every day my own eyes confirm the fact that she is not my little chubby toddler anymore. She is growing like a weed, and there is no denying this fact. But the fifth grade graduation is something that is new to me. I never had a fifth grade graduation; when did they start this? Of course, this is not the shocker that her kindergarten graduation was; that was a real shocker. Celebrate getting through kindergarten? If that is difficult, let me tell you kid, life is gonna be a rude awakening.
   Of course, kindergarten is not what it used to be. I remember kindergarten, and we used to get praised if we just managed to color in the lines. When my daughter started kindergarten she was already expected to know the entire alphabet on entrance and how to count to ten. On exit; she had learned to read and to count to 100. I was like "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat???" So I guess that the graduation of kindergarten does deserve comment, because those kids learn A LOT.
    So I knew that this graduation was coming. I've been expecting it. Of course, getting the date was an accomplishment in and of itself. Doesn't the school system realize that a lot of parents have to work and need these dates in advance so that they can make arrangements at work? But we have had all of this worked out, so it's a little insulting that my daughter feels the need to remind me twenty times in one evening. I go to every school function, so it's not like she is worried because I have a habit of skipping out. I think that mostly nerves are causing this questioning. She's so excited to be a middle school student next year! And she has worked really hard to get there. Learning standards in the classroom have gone up from my own school days. I'm sure some of the work I have seen her with is because she is in the HCP class. (Highly Capable Programming, formerly called GATE, which stood for Gifted and Talented Education; why did they change the title? It's a mystery...) But I have seen her bringing home algebra, and then I'm all like !!??!! because I didn't touch algebra until I was in the 6th or 7th grade, and she started bringing it home in 3rd grade. And I know that all the classes take timed math tests. She had tests where she was supposed to answer 100
multiplication questions in 10 minutes. That is amazing to me. Sure, they are not complicated multiplication questions, but nevertheless, I couldn't do it. So I guess that these fifth graders, they deserve their graduation. Because they have already worked so hard to get where they are at, and frankly, we need to do these things if this will encourage them to stay in school. I never felt encouraged, and I was a  high school drop-out. If keeping my daughter from doing the same means that I go celebrate every single day she goes to school at all, then this is what I will do. (It's a good thing that so far, my daughter loves school, because celebrating is expensive. I would need another job.)
   So anyway, this long, rambling post is simply my way of working up to saying:

Congratulations Baby Girl!!! Mom is so proud of you! 

Warning: Angry Barracudas

   My daughter has reached that age: the age where she wants some alone time, she needs some privacy, and hugging Mom in public is not that cool anymore. This time is a somewhat sad time for me because I have to let go a little, and I don't like letting go. She isn't quite as bad as a full-blast hormonal PMSing teenage girl, but I know that this time is coming. I've heard all the horror stories, I remember my own teenage angst, and I am as braced as I can be.

A bedecked door. Do Not Enter.

  Of course, there is some relief that she is not as bad as I was. I can say this with some authority, because I was already a known troublemaker at the tender age of 11, and my daughter is not. I was also not the popular girl; I had a few friends, and my bestie, whom I equate to sister in my head. My daughter is doing better in the friend department, which I hope means more support for when she does slide down that estrogen induced mania of teenage girl drama. This could also mean more peer pressure, but I have to be somewhat optimistic here.
   One thing that I can be sure of is that my daughter will do her teenage years unlike anyone else. She already has some claim to unusual behavior, and her latest venture into weirdness is how she goes about claiming her private space. She has recently acquired the desire for some privacy. Before, she would follow me around like a lost little puppy, but now she locks herself into her room, occasionally popping out to mess with my head by telling something insanely weird, but mostly arranging her stuff and guarding her property. Like a dragon guarding it's hoard.
   In an attempt to give everybody a fair warning, she's plastered her door with warning signs. Do Not Enter. Angry Barracudas. Wait, angry what? Where the heck did she get barracudas from? Ask her and she just covers her mouth and giggles. She's also posted warning signs stating that her room is 'Home of the Blob.' What the heck is the blob? Ask, same giggle. I don't trust that giggle.
   You know what this means, right, kiddo? Mom isn't gonna be cleaning your room up. Since her room isn't under the water, I am fairly certain that I will be safe from angry barracudas, but what the heck is the blob? Repeating myself, I know, but this sign was posted to mess with my head. My daughter knows me well.

Beware the fish???

   All jokes aside, all kids need a little privacy. Don't get me wrong, if I even suspect something's amuck, I'll be nosing in to make sure the is nothing fishy (<--haha--) going on, but we all need some me time. Especially in my little estrogen shack. Girls need space from other girls; cat fights are ugly. Having no comparison, I don't know if boys are the same, yet I imagine that they need some space too. But sometimes moms just have a hard time letting go. So to all momma birds who are having to take a step back so that little birds can spread their little wings: you are not alone. I share your pain. The plus side is that one day, we will get to see those little birds fly. 

My Bestie Takes On The Snake Pit

   Not many people are as lucky as I am when it comes to besties. I have known my best friend since I was 9 years old. We weren't best friends at first, just kinda knew each other and were neighbors, and then she moved to Florida for a while. When she came back, we really started to click. We started going every where together, doing everything together, living in each other's back pockets. She's three years younger than me, so we didn't hang out at school, but after school we were glued at the hip.
   And we are still close. Many people grow distant from the friends that they grew up with, they move, grow apart, fight over stupid things. Well, we did fight over stupid things, and usually those stupid things were my fault, but we never grew apart. We moved, and now I'm a single mom of one who holds a job and goes to college in Washington, and she's a married, stay-at-home mom of two in Mississippi, who also goes to college. And anyone who is a stay-at-home mom knows that only a complete and total bad ass can fill this role. Stay-at-home moms have thankless, payless jobs and often have to listen to way to many bon-bon cracks. No vacation, sick time, promotions, but they do it anyway. (Not knocking us working moms, our jobs aren't easy either.) God bless stay-at-home moms, and you are all in my ultimate bad ass book, but I digress.
   One of the best kept secrets about my bestie --she's a total bad ass. Not many people get to see this side of her, but I have many times. I can tell you: you've gotta watch those quiet ones. I wouldn't mess with her; she is fierce. She is, as she reads this, probably thinking that I am full of shit right about now. But I'm going to prove you wrong. I'm going to tell you the story of the snake-pit. Oh yeah. I have a snake-pit story.
   We grew up in the country. My Dad owns five acres of land, and from age 9 to age 15, this is where I lived. Though the surrounding land has now been flattened and made into cow pastures, the land was once lush, Southern wetlands. And my bestie's, my sister's, and my favorite past times: exploring. We were always in the woods. We made our parents crazy. They could never find us and we always came how soaked (we had a habit of jumping into every creek we could find) and mud stained (you have to DIG for the crawdads, now. How else were we supposed to catch them?)
   The story takes place while we were deep in the wetland/woods, with myself leading the way. I always lead the way, but my bestie always got us home. That girl has a compass in her head or something; she was never lost and could always get us home, no matter how deep into the woods we went. Well, I was leaping over this funky pit in the ground because I didn't want to step in it. Holes in the grounds in the woods are not always what they seem, especially when the floor of the woods is actually kinda swampy. And it's a GOOD THING that I did not step in that hole because I would probably not be here today. My sister jumped over the hole, and my bestie was about to, when it raised up it copper-colored head. A copperhead. And closer inspection revealed more than one.

Freaky, huh? Imagine finding a pit of these.

   I know you are thinking, well go around the hole, but this wasn't as easy as sounds. Wetlands, remember, we were on the only dry strip of land. Around us, untested waters. We didn't know how deep that water was, or what was in it. Mississippi has water moccasins, alligators, and snapping turtles (doesn't sound as bad? They'll take your toes clean off, my bestie still has scars from one that took the top of her toe off when we were jumping in a creek.) We did jump into creeks, but this was a bigger body of water than that and the water was murky as hell. We couldn't see a thing. So we were kinda at a loss, my sister and I, because we were way to scared to jump back over the freaking snake pit. Our parents had firmly ground into our heads: copperhead = death. Without a word my bestie takes off, and we thought we were abandoned. Well, we did get around the snake pit, we took the plunge and got in the water, getting back on land as soon as we were past the snakes. But we were lost without our compass, until we found her (or she found us, uncanny, that one), running back. She had dashed back to my house, quick as a flash, gotten the BB guns that my dad had gotten us for Christmas, and was on her way back: fully loaded and ready to take on some snakes and rescue us. Although as an adult, the thought of a 12 year old girl opening fire on a snake-pit  with a BB gun makes me cringe, at the time she was taking on a pit of death for us. Can't get more bad ass than that.
   Not all people see this side, but this is just one time out of many, that I have seen her bad ass show. She's all grown up now, but this just means that she is even more of a bad ass. Sometimes people don't realize this, but believe me, after 20 years of friendship, I know. I wouldn't mess with her, but on the other hand, she is the best friend you could ever have.
   (By the way, neither of our sets of parents ever heard this story, so I'm now a tattletale.)