Category: One Particular Baby

A Message From My Daughter – “All Adults Should Know…”

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a post. My “baby” is now eight years old, and she inspired this post. I am sharing a recent conversation we had, with her permission, “because all adults should know…”

Child holding a mini-pumpkin decorated as a cat with a facemask

“Mom, is it weird that I still suck my thumb?”

“I don’t think so. It seems to comfort you. I notice you suck your thumb more when you are worried or tired. Do you think it’s weird?”
“No, but I don’t want to suck my thumb too much because it can push my front teeth out and then I might have to have braces and that would be no fun.”
“True, and I ask you to take your thumb out of your mouth sometimes because it’s hard for me to understand you when you’re talking with a thumb in your mouth. You know, if you wanted you could find other ways to comfort yourself.”
“Not yet. My thumb helps me a lot. When I suck my thumb, it usually means I am tired and need a rest or need to lie down.” (I think back to when she was a toddler, and she would suddenly lie down (no matter where we were) and rock her whole body when she was overloaded with sensory input.)
“It’s really good that you recognize that.”
Silence for a few minutes. Then…
“What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about when I was six and I was in my old school in Kindergarten. The rules were that you had to sit up in your chair. You couldn’t lie down, no matter what. (Her voice is rising, indicating stress.) And D. would never let me suck my thumb. A. sometimes let me because she knew I needed to. But that was really hard.” (We are going into our second year of homeschooling. I pulled her from the school after Spring break in her first year, because I realized over Spring break she was a completely different child and the multiple daily meltdowns she had been having reduced to almost none.)
“I didn’t know that was happening, sweetie. How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know how to. That’s why I was always screaming. That’s why I like homeschool better. Because you let me rest and you don’t tell me I have to sit up and not suck my thumb when I am tired.”
“I am so sorry that happened and I didn’t know. Do you know you should have been able to take a break and even lie down if you needed to? That’s called an accomodation. There are laws…and that’s what I am teaching my college students about. It means that when a person has a disability, they should be able to do what they need to in order for them to be able to be included and learn well.”
“You mean like the grownups have to be flexible and listen to the kids and let them take breaks to rest and lie down if they need to?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Mom?”
“Mmmm…”
“I think all grownups need to know this. Can you tell them?”
“I can try. Would it be Okay with you if I shared this conversation? That might help me tell them.”
“Yes! Tell them they should pay attention and believe kids and they should let kids rest if they need to. Kids aren’t trying to be bad.”
So, there you have it everyone. I am so proud of my daughter who has developed such keen self awareness and insight into her own needs and who is becoming a self advocate and an advocate for others.
I feel sad that she had the experience of NOT feeling seen, listened to, and accommodated at the private school I was scrambling to pay for in hopes of avoiding the behavioral approach the public school was proposing (“edibles” as reinforcement for following the rules and behaving “appropriately”).
All adults who teach children should understand that behaviors have meaning and that rules need to be flexible. Children with disabilities are entitled to accommodations that will allow them to be included and learn in classrooms with peers, and they should not have to suffer unduly by being made to conform to adult expectations when an accommodation can reasonably be made. These rights are protected by law.

Meditation on Motherhood

 

My girl is adopted.  She is my biological niece, and my daughter. We are four and a half years into our relationship together. I  unexpectedly became her mother at the age of forty nine years old, (after twenty five years of being a professional infant toddler caregiver and educator), under the most unusual and trying of circumstances. We have had quite the journey together. Late last year, she was diagnosed as autistic. This is a short meditation on what becoming and being her mother has meant to me, what I have struggled with, and what I am learning from her. I am sharing it with hope that it might speak to and inspire you, no matter what your story or your circumstances.

I am my child’s mother. She chose me. I chose her. I am a good mother to and for my child. I am not a perfect person or a perfect mother, but I am the perfect mother to and for my child. I love my child. More importantly, I am committed to parenting her respectfully. I show up and do my best every day. I try to see her and understand her for who she is, apart from me. I try to honor her and her unique person-hood and journey and to give her what she needs to survive and thrive. I observe and listen to her closely, and let my intuition guide me to meet her true needs in the way that serves her best.

I  remain open. In meeting her needs, I also try to honor myself, to be real and authentic in relationship to her. I recognize that I have needs, limits, and boundaries, and it is OK and important to assert them. I can’t always meet all of her needs or demands in a perfect or total way, as she would wish, and sometimes, she may be upset with me for setting limits, and that is OK. I need only to acknowledge her feelings, and to continue to be open, to listen, to observe.

I continue to seek, to question, to do my best for her and for myself. I won’t quit. I won’t leave. I won’t give up on either of us. I won’t stop loving her, listening to her,  or trying to understand her. I will make mistakes. I will fall. I will fail. I will misunderstand. But I will learn from my mistakes. I will admit them. I will apologize. I will seek, ask for, and accept help for both of us, if need be. I will move on. And so will she.

 

I choose to believe that my love, my commitment, my trying is enough. Good enough. Enough to make a difference for her and for me. Enough to bond us together. Enough to nurture her and launch her into the world in a happy (enough), healthy (enough) way so that she can survive and thrive. Her journey, her experience of life, of people, will be different than mine, and that, I believe, is a good thing. Although she has experienced much struggle in her short life, I hope that our relationship will be a bedrock for her, even when I am no longer present on this earth. I hope she will learn and feel that although I am not perfect, although I often feel inadequate, broken, lost, and alone, although I often make mistakes, I show up for her. I seek to see her for who she is, to celebrate her unique strengths. I believe in her. I am there as a guide, and on her side, not hovering, but available. I am her greatest advocate and cheerleader. She is my greatest teacher. I aim to make better and different choices for both of us, than were made for me when I was growing up. I strive to understand myself and my past in order not to revisit upon her what was done to me.

Again, I am not perfect. I fall. I fail. I make mistakes. But always, I get up and try again. I lead with love. I lead with a desire to know, understand, and celebrate her for exactly who she is. I lead with an open heart and an open mind. I continue to learn and grow so that she can learn and grow. We are a work in progress, both of us, and our relationship. It is perfect as it is, even when it doesn’t look pretty from the outside, or the sailing isn’t smooth.

I love. I love. I love. I show up. I try. I try. I try. I trust. I let go. She lights the way for both of us. And that is enough. That is all. May she grow up to know this. May she feel it. May it be enough. It is enough. It is all.

On Children
Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

With love and thanks to the many therapists, teachers, friends, and families, too numerous to mention, who have prepared me, guided me, inspired me, and supported me in this journey, but most especially, to Magda Gerber, and Janet Lansbury.

Please, Thank You, I’m Sorry…Trusting Children to Develop Social Skills and Manners In Time

KidandCat“Can you explain why we don’t need to tell toddlers to say sorry, thank you, please, etc? My child’s caregiver told her she needs to say sorry when she “does something bad”, which in this case was poking the caregiver’s eye. My daughter is 19 months old.

“Say please.” “Say thank you.” “Say you’re sorry.” “Say hello.” “Say goodbye.” We can instruct or insist that our young children parrot our words, but if we want them to develop true kindness, if we want them to develop social graces and true empathy, if we want them to develop the ability to feel and express true gratitude, if we want them to express true sorrow when they have hurt someone (even inadvertently), directly instructing them isn’t the way to go.

Instead, I suggest trusting children and modeling for them the values and attitudes we desire to instill. If young children are treated and talked to with respect, they will, in time, learn to talk to and treat others with kindness and respect, no prompting or reminders needed, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness a young child acting from a genuine and authentic place, as opposed to hearing them issue a half hearted and hasty thank you or I’m sorry that is prompted by an adult.

It can be hard to wait and trust, but make no mistake, your child is watching, listening, and absorbing YOUR words, actions and attitudes.  Janet Lansbury says:

“Trust, whenever and wherever it’s possible, reasonable and age-appropriate, is one of the most profound gifts we can give our children. Through trust we offer children opportunities to fully own their achievements and internalize the validating message: “I did it!” This, as opposed to the far less self-affirming one: “Finally, I did what my parents have been wanting me to do!” Believe me, children know the difference.”

What a child experiences and lives is what a child eventually expresses in their own particular and unique way. How do we model for  children? We can say please and thank you to our child when making requests. We can let them hear us saying a genuine, “I’m sorry,” when we have made a mistake. We can greet friends and loved ones warmly. We can say thank you on our child’s behalf. “Thank you for coming to help celebrate Julie’s birthday and for the beautiful book you brought for her.”

We often receive gifts in the mail from far away friends, and since my child has been a young toddler, I’ve always made it a point to open the boxes with her, and to say, “Our friend Dee sent these gifts for you, because she loves you and thinks of you. We are so lucky to have friends who think of us. I want to write to Dee to say thank you.”

Every child has their own time table.  For a child who is on the autism spectrum and who struggles with feeling comfortable with social interactions asking them to follow social conventions is something that may be beyond their ability, and may cause more harm than it does good. As Raun K. Kaufman explains in his post, Why Forced Social Niceties Lead To Less Social Kids:

“Do you ever make your child on the ‪#‎autism‬ spectrum say “hello,” shake someone’s hand, pose for photos, or obey some similar‪#‎SocialConvention‬?

I completely understand where the desire to do this comes from. And, because of this, I’m also aware that it might be hard to see how counterproductive it can be.

Forcing our kids to obey these social niceties creates the opposite of a social child. Why? Here are three reasons:

1) It breaks trust and connection by forcing the child to do something against his/her will.
2) It creates a control battle, which actually causes our kids to dig in and resist more.
3) It takes the most important area of our kids’ learning and growth (i.e., social interaction) and transforms it into a meaningless task that is completely divorced from real social connection.”

Until my child was about three and a half years old, she never once uttered a please, a thank you, or an I’m sorry, and hellos and goodbyes were pretty hit or miss as well. She’s a gentle, observant child who feels deeply and is quite verbal, but is a little slow to warm in social situations. I trusted that if I was patient and continued to model for her, that one day, she would spontaneously begin to express her feelings in socially acceptable ways, and sure enough, she did. She now routinely greets friends with hugs and blows kisses goodbye, she shows concern and offers comfort when a friend is sad or has been injured, she says please and thank you regularly, and at the park the other day, she spontaneously offered to share her snack with a little girl who was eyeing her kale chips.

It began one day when our cat Pandera was ill, and Carmel, the woman who had fostered her, came to check on her and administer medicine. She also brought a book for R. which she thought R. would enjoy, (since my little one is obsessed with all things cat). R. was quite worried about Pandera, and I told her that Carmel was going to come and check on her while she was at school that day. On the way home from school, R. asked about Pandera, and I told her Carmel had visited, and Pandera seemed to be feeling much better. I also mentioned that Carmel had left a book for R. to read to Pandera.R. was relieved and excited, “I’m so glad Pandera is feeling better, Mama.” Then…. “Mama, I want to write a card to say thank you to Carmel for helping Pandera, and for bringing me a book. Pandera is a special cat, and Carmel is special because she took care of Pandera, AND she brought me a book to read to Pandera. Is that a good idea?” I said that I thought it was a fine idea.

catstory

Once we got home, after running to pet Pandera, R. asked me to help her find a card with a picture of a cat on it (“because Carmel likes cats like me”), and then, my child, who has difficulty sitting still for more than two minutes at a time, sat at the kitchen table for half an hour, as she carefully and painstakingly “wrote” and signed a thank you note to Carmel. She then sealed it in an envelope, and insisted on “wrapping” it in a plastic baggie (because it was raining and she didn’t want it to get wet), and she placed it by the door with instructions for me to, “Please don’t forget to give the card to Carmel when she comes tomorrow, because I want her to know how special she is.”

My heart swelled. That, my friends, was a three and a half year old child’s genuine, heartfelt, and authentic expression of gratitude to another human being she felt a connection with, and it was so worth waiting for her to come to the point of wanting and being able to express it in her own way.

Trust. Model. Believe in the inherent goodness and intelligence of your child. Please, thank you, hello, goodbye, and I’m sorry will come in it’s own good time.

Entering Into A Conversation With Your Baby

“What are some things to say to a baby when he is upset for no clear reason (fresh diaper, fed, not too cold/warm, not tired, etc)? My husband and I have gotten into the habit of saying ‘You’re OK’ to our 3 month old. We say it more as a reassurance that he is indeed safe and secure (which we frequently also say) rather than to negate his feelings. I’m at a loss for other phrases to use but don’t want this one to become any more of a habit, especially for when he is older.”

“I see you as the separate little person that you are. You know and feel things that you want and need to express. You want and need to be heard. You have a lot to say. I see you. I hear you. I’m listening. I want to hear and understand who you are and what you have to say. Tell me. I am here for you.”  This is a conversation and relationship that begins at birth and evolves over time. You convey this message to your young baby through your words, through your touch, through maintaining an attitude of curiosity, openness, and respect.

 

R and me

“Remember, crying is a baby’s language—it is a way to express pain, anger, and sadness. Acknowledge the emotions your baby is expressing. Let him know he has communicated.

For example, you might say, ‘I see you’re uncomfortable. And hearing you cry really upsets me. I want to find out what you need. Tell me. I will try to understand your cues…’… Then think out loud. ‘Could it be that your diaper is wet? I don’t think you are hungry because you just ate. Maybe I’ve been holding you long enough and maybe you want to be on your back for a while.’ This is the start of lifelong, honest communication.”  Magda Geber

I remember the first time I held my girl as if it was yesterday, even though that was two and a half years ago. She was just a few weeks old. As soon as she was placed in my arms, she began vocalizing. This was something that everyone present would notice and comment on over a period of four months, during the precious one hour visits we were allowed weekly. “As soon as she is in your arms, she starts “talking”.

 

564577_10151598333926261_70616355_n

This is still true today, although now she has words. She lets me know how she’s feeling and what she’s thinking, in a very clear way, always. We don’t always agree.  I’m not always able to make things better or easier for her. Sometimes, all I can do or say is, “I hear you. This is hard.”  Sometimes, I have misunderstood, and gotten it wrong. But we have always been and  are always) in conversation with each other and my goal has always been (and still is)  to try to listen and understand, and to allow her to feel heard, seen and accepted for exactly who she is. It’s an attitude and a belief as much as anything else. “I am interested in hearing what you have to say and trying to understand who you are and what you need.”

Early on, I said things like this:  “What do you want to tell me?” “Tell me more.”  “You are so upset.”  “I’m listening.” “I’m here.” “You have a lot to tell me.” “You seem uncomfortable.” “I wonder what you’re trying to tell me?”  “It’s OK to cry.” ” I wonder if you would like to go outside for a walk?”” I wonder if you are tired and need to rest?” “Would you like me to sing you a song?” “It’s hard to be a baby sometimes, isn’t it?” “I’m trying to/want to understand what you’re telling me.”

Enter into the conversation with your baby. Let her know that what she has to say is important to you, and that you are trying to understand. Ask her questions and wait for her response. Be with her in her experience as fully as you are able. It’s the beginning of a beautiful relationship, and a lifetime of conversation.

On Our Way, With a Little Help From Our Friends (A Christmas Miracle)

Wonder

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As many of you know, I am in the (very long, painfully slow) process of adopting my niece R from the foster care system, and to that end, I  have been required to remain in the state of Florida (where she was born) throughout this past year. On December tenth, R and I received a ruling from the court that I consider to be nothing short of a Christmas miracle. The judge approved my request to return home to Santa Cruz, California, with R, in February of 2014.

One year ago, R was just shy of five months old, and we had been together for just three weeks:

Tomorrow, she will be 17 months old, and we will have been together for a little over a year. She is a RIE baby through and through and has developed all of her gross motor milestones naturally.

I was in the kitchen preparing dinner last week, while she contentedly played in her play area. I turned around to see her sitting at the top of the small, wooden climbing structure that had been sitting in her play space since she was about 6 months old. She had never paid any attention to it before. I grabbed the phone camera, and for the next half hour, I watched and recorded in silent awe, as she proceeded to navigate the climber on her terms:

Those of you who have been following us on our journey through this past year know that it’s been quite a ride. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and for us, that phrase holds special meaning. Through it all, despite being quite isolated and alone here in Florida, I have been privileged to have the support of the most incredible, generous group of friends back home in California, as well as an amazing online community of parents and educators, who are also endeavoring to raise their babies with Magda Gerber’s principles of respect.

It has been an honor to be able to contribute to the RIE/Mindful Parenting Group on Facebook, and it is not an exaggeration to say that the relationships I have formed, and the support I have received in return for my participation, have made it possible for me to survive this past year with all of its many emotional and financial challenges.

We still have some hurdles to face and overcome before the adoption is final, and I will remain under state supervision in California (meaning, having to clear another background check, submitting to another home study, monthly visits from a social worker, and endless piles of paperwork and red tape), but returning home also means that we will have nearby friends and community surrounding us, and I will be able to return to work and teaching parenting classes, as I will have access to childcare that I trust. At this time, I am relying on friends back in Santa Cruz to help with home hunting, and I am busy trying to navigate the logistics of a move across country with an active toddler in tow! (All housing leads appreciated!)

Together

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whatever happens, R and I will be together, and that, my friends, fills my heart with joy. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you, from the bottom of my heart, for your caring, your sharing, your generosity, and your ongoing emotional and practical support. Thank you for helping me to bring R home. We couldn’t have made it this far without you. Sending much love and many warm wishes for the happiest of holidays to you and yours, Lisa

 

Toddler Testing: Problem or Opportunity?

“Go slowly and with great patience.” Magda Gerber

Emma writes: “I really struggle with a particular issue at meal times with my 11 month old son. He is awesome with washing hands, but pulls away, pulls at the cloth, and tries with all his might to throw it on the floor when I wipe his face. I’ve tried slowing down. I always tell him what I am going to do before I do it, and I have tried offering the cloth to him. (He throws it as far away as possible, every time.) How do you do it???”

Communication, conversation, turn taking, cooperation, independence, and self mastery all develop through the everyday care routines (feeding, nose wiping, diaper changing, bathing, etc. ) we engage in with our infants and toddlers.

Emma, I think you just have to keep trying, remain calm and consistent, and trust that one day your son is going to understand and choose to participate and cooperate more.  If you go very slowly, stay calm, and keep talking him through the process while asking and waiting for his participation and cooperation, it will get easier one day.

Maybe it will help you to know that not everything always goes so smoothly around here. For instance, when R was about 11 months old, she decided that she absolutely did not want anything at all to do with diaper changing. She would crawl over to her diaper changing area when I noted it was time for a change, but it was all downhill from there. Once she got to the changing pad, she would not stay still. She would not stay on her back for even the two minutes it took me to fasten her diaper. She spent every diaper change trying to escape, grabbing at the wipes and the diaper, trying to kick me, bucking her body, and yelling at me in protest.

For my part, I started to dread diaper changes. I did them as infrequently as possible. I found myself asking, then  pleading for, and finally demanding cooperation. (Demanding didn’t work so well.)  I tried everything I knew how to do. Slowing down. Talking with her. Asking for her permission and participation. Letting her roll and play. I tried to do as much of the diaper change as I could while she was on her tummy. I tried singing silly songs.

Each time, it would go like this: She’d roll onto her tummy and try to escape. I’d wait a minute, and try to involve her in the task at hand. I would hand her the diaper to hold, and she’d drop it on the floor and laugh. I’d hand her the box of wipes, wait for her to pull one out, and ask her to hand it to me, and she’d drop it on the floor and laugh. I’d ask her to turn on her back after letting her roll around for 3 minutes, and I knew she understood, because she’d get very still, then turn on her back, give a grin, and flip right back onto her tummy again. I’d try, in vain, to encourage her to help me dress her, by asking her to push her limbs through the holes of her clothing, and she’d squirm away and flail. I could feel myself growing impatient and my blood pressure rising.

One day, when poop was flying everywhere, my patience was short, and asking her to stay still wasn’t working, I insisted she had to stay still, and I “helped” her by placing one arm across her body so she couldn’t roll.  This didn’t feel good to me, and for her part, she let me know how she felt about being restrained by literally growling at me!

It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t fun for me, but as much as she complained and protested during the diaper change, she’d go back to happily playing and babbling once it was all over, while I was left feeling frustrated, cleaning up poop from every surface, wondering what I was doing wrong, and thinking, “There’s got to be an easier way.” I  found myself looking on-line at those diaper changing devices that “gently restrain” babies, and promise easy, mess free diaper changing. (Yes, I did!!!) I had to laugh at myself, because after all, here I was, supposedly one of the diaper changing queens of the baby world!

What happened? Our diaper changing times used to be such wonderful times of connection and closeness, and now, almost every time, it was miserable for both of us. What happened was that my girl was maturing into a young toddler. She was mobile and also asserting her will and personality. She was asking me to engage with her on her terms, as much as I was asking her to engage on mine. This (as I’d counseled many a parent in the past) was a good and positive sign of the trust she had developed in me to listen to her, and to do things with her, instead of for her or to her. As much as it was my job to gently bring her back to the task at hand, it was also my job to follow her lead a bit, and find a way to make room for, and enjoy her emerging playfulness and need to be in constant motion.

I re-read Janet Lansbury’s post,, Dealing With Diaper Changing Disasters, and Mamas In The Making post, Catch Me If You Can.

Finally, it dawned on me that maybe my attitude and approach needed to change if it was going to get any better. I had begun to look at diaper changing  time as a “problem” to be solved instead of an opportunity to build communication, cooperation, and connection. I just wanted to get the chore done. I anticipated that it was going to be a disaster, and more often than not it was. I also realized that I wanted R to listen to me, and participate, but on my terms and timeline. I forgot that what she was doing was crucial, and an important part of her learning process.

How often had I counseled other parents to try to relax, step back a little, and re-frame the issue (whatever it was)? It was time to take my own advice. I needed to adjust my attitude and expectations. “This isn’t a problem. It is an opportunity. This is just what’s happening right now. It’s part of the process of growth and learning. We’ve got to find a way to do it together.”

Amazingly enough, as soon as I stopped approaching the diaper changing time as a dreaded task to be gotten through, and tried to see it as a time to build connection, cooperation and communication, it got better and easier. R was suddenly more willing and able to cooperate. And then tonight, there was this, during another caregiving time:

I was wiping R’s face with a washcloth after dinner. She was grabbing at the cloth, and pushing my hand away. I said, “Would you like to hold the cloth and try by yourself?” while holding the cloth out to her with an open palm. She took the cloth and swiped at her face, then she reached out and handed the cloth back to me. I said, “Thank you!” She laughed, and reached for the cloth again, so I handed it back to her. We then spent the next ten minutes handing the cloth back and forth to each other. Each time she handed me the cloth, I said, “Thank you!” and she gave a delighted grin and belly laugh before reaching out to ask for the cloth again. This was one of the best conversations I’ve ever had, bar none.

Emma, I know that it’s not always easy, but try to trust that together with your son you will get to where you want to be (eventually). Try to look at the struggles as opportunities instead of problems. Remember that this is all a part of the process, and the building of a relationship and conversation that will last a lifetime. It takes time. Try to remember to slow down, and don’t forget to laugh when you can. Because the alternative is frustration for both of you, and who needs that? I promise you, if you stick with it,  there will come a day (and soon), when you will experience the joy of a reciprocal conversation with your boy, much like the one I had with R the other night, and I’d love to hear about it when it happens!

Trusting Baby To Be A Problem Solver

“Trust your baby’s competence: she wants to do things for herself, and she can do things for herself. You also know that your child does need help, but try to provide just that little amount of help that allows the child to take over again. Let her be the initiator and problem solver. We can look at life as a continuation of conflicts or problems. The more often we have mastered a minute difficulty, the more capable we feel the next time.” Magda Gerber 

 

There’s a scene in Magda’s film, On Their Own With Our Help, that I’ve always loved. A baby gets stuck under a table, and is upset and crying. Magda doesn’t move the table, pull the baby out, or pick the baby up, but instead gets down under the table and talks to the baby, who is able to crawl out on his own. She then stays with him and comforts him until he’s calmer, and ready to move on.

Magda explains had she moved the table or simply picked the baby up, she would be depriving him of the opportunity to participate in the problem solving. Since the baby was in no real danger, she didn’t want to “rescue” him and send the message that he was completely helpless. She said, ” He did the crawling out on his own. I just helped show him the way.”

Self confidence, problem solving, competence, body and spatial awareness, resilience, trust, and language development. All of these grow and are strengthened through everyday interactions like this one.

We had a reenactment here the other day, when R., eleven and a half months old, rolled under the bed, got stuck, and started calling for me to help her:

 

I’m no expert with the camera, so forgive the shakiness, but there’s no mistaking the look of pleasure and pride R. experiences when she figures out what she needs to do, and does it, all on her own, with just a little support from me.

“The happiest, most self-confident babies are those who are respected as innately capable, encouraged to be active participants in their care (and life), and allowed to be achievers whenever possible.” Janet Lansbury

 

 

Tummy Time Baby’s Way

Natural, unassisted gross motor development means waiting for baby to choose tummy time. This is how it happens, or at least how it’s happening here…

One day before her 5 month birthday, R. turned onto her tummy all by herself. She was startled and didn’t like it much, and immediately let out a loud wail. After acknowledging what she had accomplished, “You turned onto your tummy!”,  I told her I was going to pick her up, and after a bit of cuddling, I placed her down in her play space on her back, where she contentedly continued to play for another hour.

IMAG0475

She chose not to return to the tummy position for almost a full month afterwards. She would play on her back, finding her toys,  bringing them to mid-line, and her mouth, and she also did quite a bit of playing while lying on her side, but she stopped short of turning onto her tummy.

Then one day, about a month later, she DID turn onto her tummy, and while it was clear to me that she was “ready” for this experience, as evidenced by the fact that she could lift her head and look around easily in this position, as well as support herself on her forearms, and reach and grab for toys, she was STILL clear she did not like it, and was uncomfortable.

I continued to put her on her back for play, and let her choose, and about two weeks ago, even though she never again turned onto her tummy during play time while awake, she started turning onto her tummy when she was in her crib, asleep. The change in position would inevitably wake her, and she’d cry out to me in distress.

I responded by going to her and acknowledging, “You turned onto your tummy, and you woke up. I am going to pick you up, and put you down on your back, so you can rest.” She would sigh and stretch out and go back to sleep, although I often didn’t! This cycle repeated itself 5 or 6 times a night.

For the past three nights, R. has continued to turn herself over in her sleep, and each time, she cries out briefly, but then immediately goes back to sleep on her own, still on her tummy. Here is how I find her when I go in to greet her in the morning:

858271_10151247911156261_258423484_o

 

Today, one day shy of her 7 month birthday, she has been on a nap strike. She is clearly tired, and seems happy to be in her crib, but shortly after I leave the room, she cries out insistently, and when I respond, I find she is on her tummy, and often has moved a full 180 degrees from the position she was originally in.

She grins when she sees me, and I tell her (after a few minutes of observing her and talking with her), that I am going to pick her up, place her on her back, and let her rest. We have repeated this cycle about ten times so far today. In between NOT napping, I feed her and change her diaper, and we enjoy this slow, connected, time together, and then she plays contentedly on her back  for short periods in her play space.

R. has not yet figured out how to (or that she can) turn from her tummy to her back on her own, so she needs my support right now. I see my role as listening to her, acknowledging her, reassuring her, and re-positioning her when she tells me she is too uncomfortable, and doesn’t know how to turn back on her own. Most of all, I view my role as trusting her, trusting her process, trusting her timing, and trusting that she is going to figure this out for herself in her own time, if I just wait and offer her the right amount of support.

Is it easy for either of us? No. There is struggle. There is frustration. There is disruption in sleep. There is complaining (on both our parts). Would I do it any other way, or change anything if I could? Not a thing.

R. is learning to learn. She is learning that she is in charge of her own body and her own process. She is learning to trust herself. She is learning to trust me. I am learning to trust her. She is learning that SHE is in control, and that she can move one way, and then another way, if she is not comfortable. And she’s learning that she’s not alone in this, no matter how difficult or uncomfortable it may be for her right now. These are lessons that will serve her well throughout her life.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about and you are curious to learn more, or if you have an idea of what I’m talking about, and still want to learn more, I can do no better than to refer you to Janet Lansbury’s site, elevating childcare, for she (and Magda Gerber before her) has been my truest and most trusted guide, mentor, friend, and teacher.

 

 

Baby at Play

Infants are individuals unto themselves. Artists and creative people, whether they are painters, musicians, writers, architects, designers, or philosophers, have by definition embraced and honed their individuality and express a unique vision to the world. If an infant can begin to spend time gazing at, listening to, and later touching and examining what interests him in his surroundings, rather than being forced to see and hear a mobile above his face every time he wakes up, or a rattle being shaken in front of him, then he has a better chance of staying in touch with his own unique essence. Janet Lansbury, Blue Sky Thinking

 

This short two minute video clip was recorded today during a play session that lasted for over an hour. R., who is five months old, peacefully and contentedly chose to explore and manipulate a piece of wax paper, forever challenging the notion that babies get bored easily, have short attention spans, need to be entertained, or need expensive and fancy toys to stimulate them. Enjoy!

 

 

Home at Last!

 

I am thrilled to announce that R. came home to her family on November 29. 2012. I think she’s as happy to be home as we are to have her here with us.

A quote that sums up some of my feelings about our first week together: “If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle.” Vincent Van Gogh