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Thursday, November 21, 2013
As I sit here in front of my desk breastfeeding my daughter and browsing the net, I started to wonder if I was being a bit careless by letting my 12 year old brother-in-law see me doing it.
You see, when I breastfeed, I do not use a cover. Not only is it too much work, it is also silly to try to shield others from something so natural and simple. I'm sure there are different opinions on this, but this is mine and I'm sticking to it.
When I'm at home, I breastfeed in front of my 4 year old. He doesn't pay much attention. He has seen my breasts countless times and he knows what they are for.
Today though, I have my brother-in-law visiting because he needs help with this homework. It didn't occur to me that I should cover. I mean, why would I? But it also made me think about whether or not he had seen other women breastfeeding. Of course he knows I breastfeed. He also knows that his mom breastfed all of his brothers as well as him. He knows that he comes from a long line of exclusively breast feeders, so it shouldn't surprise him that breasts produce milk and that's what babies eat.
So as I sit here breastfeeding my daughter, this conversation occurred:
Me: "Stop looking at my boobs!" (in a teasing manner)
Him: "I'm not!"
Me: "Ronald, he's looking at my boobs!"
Him: "I'm not! I'm looking at Sophia!"
Me: "Lol, I know, I'm just messing with you. When you went to Peru, you saw breastfeeding mothers right?"
Him: "Yeah, they don't cover themselves over there."
Plain and simple. They don't cover over there. Why? Because it's not necessary and this little man knows how pure and simple the act of breastfeeding is.
So it is with pride, that today, I breastfeed in front of him. I am convinced that the more exposure he gets, the more accepting and supportive he will be towards other breastfeeding mothers in public as well as his own wife when the time comes.
Boobies FTW!
You see, when I breastfeed, I do not use a cover. Not only is it too much work, it is also silly to try to shield others from something so natural and simple. I'm sure there are different opinions on this, but this is mine and I'm sticking to it.
When I'm at home, I breastfeed in front of my 4 year old. He doesn't pay much attention. He has seen my breasts countless times and he knows what they are for.
Today though, I have my brother-in-law visiting because he needs help with this homework. It didn't occur to me that I should cover. I mean, why would I? But it also made me think about whether or not he had seen other women breastfeeding. Of course he knows I breastfeed. He also knows that his mom breastfed all of his brothers as well as him. He knows that he comes from a long line of exclusively breast feeders, so it shouldn't surprise him that breasts produce milk and that's what babies eat.
So as I sit here breastfeeding my daughter, this conversation occurred:
Me: "Stop looking at my boobs!" (in a teasing manner)
Him: "I'm not!"
Me: "Ronald, he's looking at my boobs!"
Him: "I'm not! I'm looking at Sophia!"
Me: "Lol, I know, I'm just messing with you. When you went to Peru, you saw breastfeeding mothers right?"
Him: "Yeah, they don't cover themselves over there."
Plain and simple. They don't cover over there. Why? Because it's not necessary and this little man knows how pure and simple the act of breastfeeding is.
So it is with pride, that today, I breastfeed in front of him. I am convinced that the more exposure he gets, the more accepting and supportive he will be towards other breastfeeding mothers in public as well as his own wife when the time comes.
Boobies FTW!
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
I guess most of you have read Sophia's birth story and got to sort or experience what I went through giving birth to her. It hit me out of nowhere, that there is an untold story to this. My son Luka was there for most of it.
I made it my mission early on, to include my son in all aspects of my pregnancy. He came with me on many of my prenatal appointments, he was there for our first ultrasound and he was there rubbing my head whenever I was in pain. I wanted him to form a bond with his little sister very early on. Something that will carry throughout birth and the years to come. I happily report, that it worked. He adores his sister.
Well, regardless, that's not the point of this post. I was just in awe the other day when it finally hit me, my son was with me while I was in labor at home. He heard me moan, he heard me scream, he heard me cry and even though he felt bad for me, he held his composure really well. This is a four year old boy who could easily get scared but he was so brave and understanding for me. He knew full well I was in pain, but he also knew why I was having that pain and he welcomed it just as much as I did.
Never once did he show signs of distress. He didn't get too frustrated with my moans either.
He was just there, a presence, a rock, the perfect picture of composure, and I am so proud of him.
He welcomed birth as a natural thing.
I made it my mission early on, to include my son in all aspects of my pregnancy. He came with me on many of my prenatal appointments, he was there for our first ultrasound and he was there rubbing my head whenever I was in pain. I wanted him to form a bond with his little sister very early on. Something that will carry throughout birth and the years to come. I happily report, that it worked. He adores his sister.
Well, regardless, that's not the point of this post. I was just in awe the other day when it finally hit me, my son was with me while I was in labor at home. He heard me moan, he heard me scream, he heard me cry and even though he felt bad for me, he held his composure really well. This is a four year old boy who could easily get scared but he was so brave and understanding for me. He knew full well I was in pain, but he also knew why I was having that pain and he welcomed it just as much as I did.
Never once did he show signs of distress. He didn't get too frustrated with my moans either.
He was just there, a presence, a rock, the perfect picture of composure, and I am so proud of him.
He welcomed birth as a natural thing.
My two munchkins asleep
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Disclaimer: This blog post is a birth story. If you dislike graphic descriptions of births or anything of that sort, please stop right here. I should also add, that this is a very personal experience, but I chose to share it with the interwebs because I just feel like it. Yeah..
I never liked the phrase "becoming a mom once again", I mean, do you ever stop being a mom after you have your first? No, I didn't think so. You'll always be a mother, it's not something you shut off and turn back on once you're pregnant again. Now, I add this bit of info in here, because as you can tell by the title, what I'm going to write is one of the most amazing experiences in my life. Nevertheless, it does not take away from the experience of becoming a mother, and that is something Luka did for me. Nobody else can ever replicate that moment in my life.
For the last month or so, I had been actively looking for a doula (google it). Without much luck, I couldn't find one that would come assist me for free. Finally, I got one all set to go, but she had to cancel at the last minute. I mean, its not like I NEEDED one, but I felt like having one would make things so much easier and pleasant for me. At the very last minute, a wonderful doula contacted me and told me she would be coming this past Saturday. I was thrilled. I woke up Ronald from his nap and told him "we have a doula!"
I went to sleep that Friday with a little discomfort. I propped myself up with the seven pillows that reside on my bed and just dozed off. I woke up a few times that night to pee and again with a little discomfort. Nothing major. Finally, at exactly 8:00 am on the dot, something woke me up. Was it pain? I'm not sure, something just dragged me out of dreamworld very abruptly. Something felt off.
At 8:30 am the pain began. I was used to it though. Once you've had a child, you learn to recognize what contractions feel like. I was having them alright, but this didn't mean much to me. I could have them for a while and it still wouldn't mean much. I knew that they were helping progress things along, but I also knew that it could be days or even weeks before I gave birth. I started timing them nonetheless.
The doula was set to come at 11 am. She texted me letting me know she would come at 1 pm. No biggie, I texted her back and let her know that I was having pains and I was timing them. Everything was fine. Nothing to worry about.
Every so often I would go use the bathroom. Any pregnant woman will tell you that obsessing over discharge is pretty common. You just HAVE to look. It's what we do. Things looked different. A good kind of different. I kept telling myself "this doesn't mean anything." It was good, I was happy that my body was getting ready but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I just didn't want to set myself for disappointment.
I kept timing my contractions throughout the day. Some were 6 minutes apart, then they would go to 10 minutes, then again down to 5-6 minutes. They weren't steady enough to be of concern yet, but I did notice that they weren't going away either. Hmmm...
The doula got home and we instantly got to work. She started showing the techniques we would try once I was finally in labor. We were practicing them so that I could get familiar with them and also to pick which ones felt the most comfortable for me. We did this for a while. All throughout it though, whenever I would get a contraction, she was there telling me to breathe and also helping me cope with the pain. It was amazing. I was in a lot of pain, but she helped me get through them.
Ronald went to get us Pizza for dinner, we ate, then we went for a walk. The contractions weren't stopping, but again, I refused to get my hopes up. By night time, I was really tired and she could tell. She gave me an awesome massage and let me rest.
At around 10 or 11 pm, the pain was starting to become too strong for me. I was not comfortable at all. I was having a very hard time breathing through the contractions. I kept feeling like I needed to use the bathroom, but of course, once I sat down, nothing would come out. I decided to use the shower and just let the warm water soothe my pain. It helped a bit, but not much. Finally, I told myself that this was NOT false labor. It felt like the real deal. Once I admitted that to myself, things started to get intense.
I laid in bed and informed the doula that the pain was starting to get unbearable. At some points, I actually shed a tear. I was determined though. I would NOT go to the hospital until A) My water broke or B) The pain was so bad, I actually cried. I refused to go in and then be sent home because it wasn't time yet.
At around 1 am Sunday, I finally felt them. The toe-curling, wall-scratching, manic-state of mind pain. This was it. I told the doula that I needed to go in even though she suggested I wait until 2am. Nope! I NEED TO GO IN!
We called my father in law to take me. Ronald would stay home and care for Luka until I was admitted. There was no point in waking him up just in case they sent me back home. I had a couple of contractions in the car and one more in the waiting room. People there are very in tune to laboring women it seems. I didn't have to say a word, they just knew what was going on, before long, I was being whisked away to triage.
I had a few more contractions there. I barely remember seeing faces. All I heard were voices. "How's the pain?" "How far apart?" "Do you feel like pushing?" "I will send you home, tell me the truth."
I answered the best as I could. I don't know who I was talking to but I did my best to answer.
I got hooked up to the machine and that's when things started to feel bad. Not being able to move to cope with the pain was torture. They kept telling me to hold still so they could monitor the baby. I told them that if I held still, I couldn't manage the pain. I needed to lay on my side, or sit down, or move my hips. They weren't hearing it, all they wanted me was to hold still. They even caged me in with both sides of the bed railings so I wouldn't sit down. Well guess what, I wasn't having that either. I sat up and labored as best as I could. They weren't happy, they threatened to write down on their chart that my baby was having heart problems because they couldn't see it on the monitored. I assured them that my baby was fine, call it motherly instinct, and they could very well write whatever the hell they wanted on their chart. I was NOT going to stay still. Finally, the OB came to check me. I was 6 cm dilated, 100% effaced and the baby was at station +1 (google it). Holy shit!
This was it!
I was being admitted!
OMG!
I started to text and call all the people necessary to help get my husband here ASAP.
They offered the epidural and I gladly accepted.
Now, I wasn't planning on getting it, and even when they offered, I really didn't want it.
My logic was, I should say yes now, by the time it takes the anesthesiologist to get here and get everything set up, I could change my mind.
A little while later, I was in my bed, people were setting things up and I was still not staying still for the nurses. I heard at least three of them begging/threatening me to please stay still. Yes ladies, I'm doing this on purpose. The OB finally came to their aid and talked to me. She and I agreed on a compromise. I would stay still if they let me sit up. I would also hold the monitor for them so that it wouldn't fall off while I was wriggling in pain. This didn't go well with the nurse but fuck it. It's the best they were going to get.
The anesthesiologist finally came and informed me that I could get the epidural but warned me that at this point, it might not do anything for me. Did I still want it in place? Yes, I said. I still do. The OB came to check me. I was 8cm already. It seemed silly now, I could have said no for all the good it did me, but at the time, it felt like the right choice. It still does, you'll see.
Now the tricky part came. How is this wonderful pain doctor going to stick me in the back if I couldn't sit still for two minutes? I made a deal with the nurse. You be my "center", you hold me and coach me through the pain and I promise to stay still.
I don't know how in the world I did it, but I stayed still for 15 minutes. I didn't move an inch. I just kept letting my body go through the pain and I concentrated on the task at hand. Finally, the damn thing was in my spine.
By then, Ronald had arrived, he was waiting outside. The pain was still there obviously. Epidurals don't work immediately. Something happened though, I felt a gush. I strongly believed that my water broke. The OB was called in, it wasn't my water, just blood. Bloody show! (google it)
The pain was getting worse and worse, at this point everything was set up for me. They were just waiting on me. What were they waiting for?
Suddenly I knew "I feel like pushing!"
That's what they were waiting on.
The OB and a student were called in and they started getting ready.
Finally, I felt like I exploded and I gushed out again.
My water broke! I was sure this time.
"Yes, that was your water" the OB informed me.
OMG, IT'S GO TIME!
Now this is where everything that came felt new to me.
I felt the urge to push, that's something I didn't feel with my first.
They told me that when that urge came, to hold my breath, bare down, and just push with all I had.
I could feel all of it! I felt my body tense up, I felt my husband's hand on the back of my neck supporting me. I felt strong tight feeling on my bottom when I pushed. I felt my baby's head descending.
So many feelings at once. I was amazed!
After three pushes, the amazing feeling went away.
You see, while you're pushing, your body is actually expelling a baby, but once you stop pushing, it feels like you have something stuck up your vagina. That feeling is NOT pleasant at all.
I went with it though, it was uncomfortable but I let it be and I allowed my body to rest for a few seconds before the next contraction came and I was ready to push.
Again, we went through the same motions. Me pushing, my husband supporting, the OB lubricating. It felt wonderful! Then, when the three pushes were done came the "stuck" feeling.
Ugh!!! I hated it. Each time we took that little break, I would start to panic. It wasn't just unpleasant anymore, it hurt.
I remember saying that I couldn't do it anymore. I hoped they knew that I meant I couldn't deal with the breaks. I was actually enjoying the pushing part.
By the third or fourth contraction of the pushing phase, I remember the OB saying that her head was 1/4 of the way out. "What?!" All of this pushing for just a 1/4? No way! No way I was going to push that many times to get another 1/4 of a head out, and then another, and then another. No! I started to do weird math mentally and I refused the results!
On my fifth contraction I was determined to do more than 1/4. I pushed once, pushed twice but I was ready to give up on the third push.
Something magical happened then. I don't know what my husband said, I don't know what possessed me, but something shifted. The motivation and the strength combined with the panic that was going to come if that baby didn't come soon allowed me to do unthinkable. On that last push, I gathered all the power of all the women who mean something in my life and I pushed down with them. I felt it, I felt her head come out.
OH.MY.GOODNESS.SWEET.RELIEF!
I was told to stop pushing so they could check for the cord or anything else.
Sorry lady, I was no longer in control. My body finished pushing my sweet little baby on its own.
I had nothing to do with that push. It was all instinctual.
I cannot being to describe the rush of emotions that come with birthing a child.
It's combination of relief, happiness, fear, and many other things.
I felt them all.
They put the baby on my chest and I said hi.
Perfection looked at me in the eyes.
She was perfect.
There is obviously more to this story, but if I kept writing, we would end up with a novel and aint nobody got time for dat.
I never liked the phrase "becoming a mom once again", I mean, do you ever stop being a mom after you have your first? No, I didn't think so. You'll always be a mother, it's not something you shut off and turn back on once you're pregnant again. Now, I add this bit of info in here, because as you can tell by the title, what I'm going to write is one of the most amazing experiences in my life. Nevertheless, it does not take away from the experience of becoming a mother, and that is something Luka did for me. Nobody else can ever replicate that moment in my life.
For the last month or so, I had been actively looking for a doula (google it). Without much luck, I couldn't find one that would come assist me for free. Finally, I got one all set to go, but she had to cancel at the last minute. I mean, its not like I NEEDED one, but I felt like having one would make things so much easier and pleasant for me. At the very last minute, a wonderful doula contacted me and told me she would be coming this past Saturday. I was thrilled. I woke up Ronald from his nap and told him "we have a doula!"
I went to sleep that Friday with a little discomfort. I propped myself up with the seven pillows that reside on my bed and just dozed off. I woke up a few times that night to pee and again with a little discomfort. Nothing major. Finally, at exactly 8:00 am on the dot, something woke me up. Was it pain? I'm not sure, something just dragged me out of dreamworld very abruptly. Something felt off.
At 8:30 am the pain began. I was used to it though. Once you've had a child, you learn to recognize what contractions feel like. I was having them alright, but this didn't mean much to me. I could have them for a while and it still wouldn't mean much. I knew that they were helping progress things along, but I also knew that it could be days or even weeks before I gave birth. I started timing them nonetheless.
The doula was set to come at 11 am. She texted me letting me know she would come at 1 pm. No biggie, I texted her back and let her know that I was having pains and I was timing them. Everything was fine. Nothing to worry about.
Every so often I would go use the bathroom. Any pregnant woman will tell you that obsessing over discharge is pretty common. You just HAVE to look. It's what we do. Things looked different. A good kind of different. I kept telling myself "this doesn't mean anything." It was good, I was happy that my body was getting ready but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I just didn't want to set myself for disappointment.
I kept timing my contractions throughout the day. Some were 6 minutes apart, then they would go to 10 minutes, then again down to 5-6 minutes. They weren't steady enough to be of concern yet, but I did notice that they weren't going away either. Hmmm...
The doula got home and we instantly got to work. She started showing the techniques we would try once I was finally in labor. We were practicing them so that I could get familiar with them and also to pick which ones felt the most comfortable for me. We did this for a while. All throughout it though, whenever I would get a contraction, she was there telling me to breathe and also helping me cope with the pain. It was amazing. I was in a lot of pain, but she helped me get through them.
Ronald went to get us Pizza for dinner, we ate, then we went for a walk. The contractions weren't stopping, but again, I refused to get my hopes up. By night time, I was really tired and she could tell. She gave me an awesome massage and let me rest.
At around 10 or 11 pm, the pain was starting to become too strong for me. I was not comfortable at all. I was having a very hard time breathing through the contractions. I kept feeling like I needed to use the bathroom, but of course, once I sat down, nothing would come out. I decided to use the shower and just let the warm water soothe my pain. It helped a bit, but not much. Finally, I told myself that this was NOT false labor. It felt like the real deal. Once I admitted that to myself, things started to get intense.
I laid in bed and informed the doula that the pain was starting to get unbearable. At some points, I actually shed a tear. I was determined though. I would NOT go to the hospital until A) My water broke or B) The pain was so bad, I actually cried. I refused to go in and then be sent home because it wasn't time yet.
At around 1 am Sunday, I finally felt them. The toe-curling, wall-scratching, manic-state of mind pain. This was it. I told the doula that I needed to go in even though she suggested I wait until 2am. Nope! I NEED TO GO IN!
We called my father in law to take me. Ronald would stay home and care for Luka until I was admitted. There was no point in waking him up just in case they sent me back home. I had a couple of contractions in the car and one more in the waiting room. People there are very in tune to laboring women it seems. I didn't have to say a word, they just knew what was going on, before long, I was being whisked away to triage.
I had a few more contractions there. I barely remember seeing faces. All I heard were voices. "How's the pain?" "How far apart?" "Do you feel like pushing?" "I will send you home, tell me the truth."
I answered the best as I could. I don't know who I was talking to but I did my best to answer.
I got hooked up to the machine and that's when things started to feel bad. Not being able to move to cope with the pain was torture. They kept telling me to hold still so they could monitor the baby. I told them that if I held still, I couldn't manage the pain. I needed to lay on my side, or sit down, or move my hips. They weren't hearing it, all they wanted me was to hold still. They even caged me in with both sides of the bed railings so I wouldn't sit down. Well guess what, I wasn't having that either. I sat up and labored as best as I could. They weren't happy, they threatened to write down on their chart that my baby was having heart problems because they couldn't see it on the monitored. I assured them that my baby was fine, call it motherly instinct, and they could very well write whatever the hell they wanted on their chart. I was NOT going to stay still. Finally, the OB came to check me. I was 6 cm dilated, 100% effaced and the baby was at station +1 (google it). Holy shit!
This was it!
I was being admitted!
OMG!
I started to text and call all the people necessary to help get my husband here ASAP.
They offered the epidural and I gladly accepted.
Now, I wasn't planning on getting it, and even when they offered, I really didn't want it.
My logic was, I should say yes now, by the time it takes the anesthesiologist to get here and get everything set up, I could change my mind.
A little while later, I was in my bed, people were setting things up and I was still not staying still for the nurses. I heard at least three of them begging/threatening me to please stay still. Yes ladies, I'm doing this on purpose. The OB finally came to their aid and talked to me. She and I agreed on a compromise. I would stay still if they let me sit up. I would also hold the monitor for them so that it wouldn't fall off while I was wriggling in pain. This didn't go well with the nurse but fuck it. It's the best they were going to get.
The anesthesiologist finally came and informed me that I could get the epidural but warned me that at this point, it might not do anything for me. Did I still want it in place? Yes, I said. I still do. The OB came to check me. I was 8cm already. It seemed silly now, I could have said no for all the good it did me, but at the time, it felt like the right choice. It still does, you'll see.
Now the tricky part came. How is this wonderful pain doctor going to stick me in the back if I couldn't sit still for two minutes? I made a deal with the nurse. You be my "center", you hold me and coach me through the pain and I promise to stay still.
I don't know how in the world I did it, but I stayed still for 15 minutes. I didn't move an inch. I just kept letting my body go through the pain and I concentrated on the task at hand. Finally, the damn thing was in my spine.
By then, Ronald had arrived, he was waiting outside. The pain was still there obviously. Epidurals don't work immediately. Something happened though, I felt a gush. I strongly believed that my water broke. The OB was called in, it wasn't my water, just blood. Bloody show! (google it)
The pain was getting worse and worse, at this point everything was set up for me. They were just waiting on me. What were they waiting for?
Suddenly I knew "I feel like pushing!"
That's what they were waiting on.
The OB and a student were called in and they started getting ready.
Finally, I felt like I exploded and I gushed out again.
My water broke! I was sure this time.
"Yes, that was your water" the OB informed me.
OMG, IT'S GO TIME!
Now this is where everything that came felt new to me.
I felt the urge to push, that's something I didn't feel with my first.
They told me that when that urge came, to hold my breath, bare down, and just push with all I had.
I could feel all of it! I felt my body tense up, I felt my husband's hand on the back of my neck supporting me. I felt strong tight feeling on my bottom when I pushed. I felt my baby's head descending.
So many feelings at once. I was amazed!
After three pushes, the amazing feeling went away.
You see, while you're pushing, your body is actually expelling a baby, but once you stop pushing, it feels like you have something stuck up your vagina. That feeling is NOT pleasant at all.
I went with it though, it was uncomfortable but I let it be and I allowed my body to rest for a few seconds before the next contraction came and I was ready to push.
Again, we went through the same motions. Me pushing, my husband supporting, the OB lubricating. It felt wonderful! Then, when the three pushes were done came the "stuck" feeling.
Ugh!!! I hated it. Each time we took that little break, I would start to panic. It wasn't just unpleasant anymore, it hurt.
I remember saying that I couldn't do it anymore. I hoped they knew that I meant I couldn't deal with the breaks. I was actually enjoying the pushing part.
By the third or fourth contraction of the pushing phase, I remember the OB saying that her head was 1/4 of the way out. "What?!" All of this pushing for just a 1/4? No way! No way I was going to push that many times to get another 1/4 of a head out, and then another, and then another. No! I started to do weird math mentally and I refused the results!
On my fifth contraction I was determined to do more than 1/4. I pushed once, pushed twice but I was ready to give up on the third push.
Something magical happened then. I don't know what my husband said, I don't know what possessed me, but something shifted. The motivation and the strength combined with the panic that was going to come if that baby didn't come soon allowed me to do unthinkable. On that last push, I gathered all the power of all the women who mean something in my life and I pushed down with them. I felt it, I felt her head come out.
OH.MY.GOODNESS.SWEET.RELIEF!
I was told to stop pushing so they could check for the cord or anything else.
Sorry lady, I was no longer in control. My body finished pushing my sweet little baby on its own.
I had nothing to do with that push. It was all instinctual.
I cannot being to describe the rush of emotions that come with birthing a child.
It's combination of relief, happiness, fear, and many other things.
I felt them all.
They put the baby on my chest and I said hi.
Perfection looked at me in the eyes.
She was perfect.
Sophia Victoria Varillas was born on October 20th at 4:43 am.
She was 9lbs 7oz and 20in long at the time of her birth.
There is obviously more to this story, but if I kept writing, we would end up with a novel and aint nobody got time for dat.
Monday, September 23, 2013
I'm sure I will got some flak about this blog post, but this topic has been on my mind for a long time and I want it to address it.
I want to say though, that this is in no way a post to attack or criticize anyone. I am aware that what I'm trying to avoid is something most of the people I know already do. Please, do not take personal offense.
When I was pregnant with Luka, I bombarded Ronald with loads of hypothetical questions.
What will he eat, natural or processed?
What kind of clothing will he wear, comfy or trendy?
What kind of value will we teach him?
The list went on and on, but as first time parents, I wanted to make sure that we were both on the same page when it came to raising our child.
One of the most important questions that I asked him was in regards to technology.
Now, as a lot of my family and friends know, I love technology. I love my computer, and my e-reader, and my cell-phone, and did I mention all of our game consoles?
We breathe technology, we like to be current and we like to use it.
Now, how do we apply or not apply this to our child?
It was tricky to think about how we would limit or allow the use of technology for our son in a time where everything seems to revolve around it.
One thing was clear, we wanted Luka to enjoy his early years with the most simplest objects available. We wanted him to use his imagination. Did technology have a role there? It could, but how much is enough and where do you draw the line?
First off, we decided that video games for him were banned. No, no kiddy video games at all. They were completely banned, he would not play any type of video games until he was an older child. Toddler years are for coloring, finger-painting and building blocks.
Secondly, there would be no use of tablets. No toddler apps on my kindle thank you very much.
Ok, I kind of cheated there. I have been known to allow him to swipe his little finger across my tablet screen to help kill a zombie, but he does not get tablet time. None at all.
Thirdly, computers will be allowed, but only at a certain age.
What's that age? I have no idea.
As with everything related to our child, we wanted to follow his cues. Whenever we see signs of him being ready, we will start teaching him about computers and only as an educational portal. No video-games, no youtube videos, none of that.
Yes, I know, it seems a bit harsh, specially in an era where everything seems to be run by technology. Everywhere you turn someone is using a tablet, or a smart phone or a portable computer. But we believe that there is a time for everything.
I cringe when I see little 8 year olds with iPhones. I mean seriously? I get that you want to keep in touch with your child, but an iPhones?
I grit my teeth when I see 4 and 5 year olds with iPads.
I know, I know, they're not my kids, I shouldn't care, but I do.
Of course, we all have different styles of parenting and what works for me does not mean it will work for others.
I get that is very convenient to hand a child a tablet when they are being rowdy at the dentist's waiting room. We would do anything to just get them to shut up and sit down!
I also understand that finger-painting is just so messy, why not use an app to do it? I get it I do.
I also sympathize when I hear parents saying "but all the other kids have it, why not mine?"
I got you my friend, I truly understand.
I just feel like kids are little for such a short amount of time. The first few years of their lives are crucial to their development. I chose to be involved in my child's learning instead of letting a machine do it for me.
I choose to line the floor with newspapers and let him water-color to his heart's content.
Yes, clean-up was messy, and no I did not enjoy it one bit, but I felt that he needs to learn to get messy, so I let him.
Do I like seeing my living-room floor plagued with toy cars, blocks, puzzles and balls all over?
HECK NO!
When people come visit me they think I'm a slob.
To be honest, I probably am, but that was my child at play and he had a blast. No fancy gadgets required.
We did let ourselves go with the tv though. It was too easy to fall into that trap.
We allow tv time but it is very controlled.
He will only watch things geared to his age.
I get that we won't be able to control every minute of his time. He goes to visit his grand-parents often and I know he's exposed to things that we wouldn't allow at home.
Now that he's in school, he's even more exposed to different types of people. Kids whose parents do allow them the use of their phones and tablets. My kid will wonder why he doesn't have those same privileges.
We will stick to ours guns regardless. We want him to have a simple childhood.
There will be a time when he will ask us for a tablet perhaps.
Will we give him one?
It depends. If he's at an age where he shows responsibility for taking care of things and an understanding that this is a privilege and not a right, then yes, of course we will.
Right now, at four years old, he is very content with his toy trains and his puzzles.
He enjoys books, the physical ones, and has yet to complain that they do not narrate on their own.
Yes, it seems a bit unrealistic, but as parents, we are trying our best to raise a child with not only good values, but life skills.
We want him to be social in person, over the phone, and in writing without having to resort to social media sites.
We want him to be able to carry a conversation with another human being without feeling shy because he wasn't exposed to human interaction enough.
We also want him to pick going out to play ball instead of staying in and playing video-games in his free time.
I feel like by starting now with these guidelines will set the path to what we want him to accomplish in the future.
We'll see how it turns out, but for now, NO TO TECHNOLOGY!
Monday, September 9, 2013
It finally happened.
The day I was dreading the most.
You see, I knew it was coming. I wasn't so naive to think that it would never come. I just thought I had a little more time you know?
In my dreams, I envisioned a little boy who would never want to leave my side. I would be his teacher, his guide, and he would be a total momma's boy!
But nooooooooo! This little devil had other plans.
He had decided, long before I was ready, that he wanted to go to school.
The conversation went a little like this a few months ago:
"Jeannette, when I go to school?"
"School? Why do you want to go to school?"
"I want to learn, and raise my hand and say me me me me!"
And that was it guys! Right then and there he decided that he was ready to go school, even if I wasn't.
So we signed him up, we mentally prepared him (and me) for this huge milestone.
The day finally arrived and it did not go like I expected.
There were tears, OMG, there were tons of tears! A little tantrum here, a mini nervous breakdown there...
Oh, Luka was fine, all of that happened to me, not him!
He was as happy as ever. Very excited and relaxed.
I on the other hand was breaking down inside.
How could this be? Where did these four years go? It cannot be! My little boy is growing up!
I had a plan all set out though. We would take him to school and I would stay behind with him to keep him company. After all, he has never been in daycare nor does he know about babysitters. This was going to be his first time being without his parents and in the care of a total stranger.
Nope!
The little jerk didn't even care about me!
He went on his merry way, making friends, having fun and all that jazz.
Ronald and I thought about leaving, but I wanted to give Luka a last chance to beg me to stay.
I go up to him and say "Bubba, dada and I are going shopping ok? You stay here, we'll be right back."
"Ok", he said
Ok?
JUST OK?
Dammit, I left the traitor there and went shopping with my husband.
So much for moral support!
Anyway, we came back a few hours later to pick him up. He was lined up with the rest of his classmates waiting to be picked up.
He looked so happy!
Dammit!
Traitor, traitor I said!
All in all, I'm so proud of him. There were two other kids who cried for ages and eventually left with their parents. Luka didn't even show any signs of sadness.
He had fun and made new friends.
He told us all about his day. He colored, they had story time, they had clean-up time and snack time.
He ate "LOTSA cookies" and regular milk and oh, let's not forget the apple.
When we were finally home and he was playing with his toys, I caught a little snippet of a song he made up.
It went something like this:
"Miss Briton, Miss Briton, Miss Briton is a good teacher....She taught us coloring, she made us clean-up. She's a good teacher la la la."
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Luka has recently turned four years old.
In the days leading up to his birthday, I started to think about all the decisions I made as a parent even before he was born. Every parent wants the best for their children. For some that means buying them everything they need and want, for others it means teaching them values, and for others it means putting them in the best schools and programs. Whatever it is, we all want to give them the very best, and that's exactly what we wanted for our son.
So, what is it that I wanted for him?
I wanted for him to grow up surrounded by love. I wanted him to look back 30 years from now and remember that his parents loved him no matter what. I wanted him to remember a happy childhood, a stable home no matter how small, and to be proud of the person he turned out to be.
I always talk about how proud I am of him. He is a caring boy, he shows affection, and he is compassionate. These are very good qualities to have, but seeing them on a four year old, my four year old, is even more amazing to me. I feel like every single decision we've made towards raising him has molded him into the little person he is today. Some may not agree with our approach, but everything we do for him is with love.
One of the biggest sacrifices we had to make to give him the best care in the world, was for me to stay home and raise him while my husband worked crazy hours to bring in extra income. I never thought I'd be a stay at home mom, but I did it, and I don't regret it. Sure it was hard, sure I wanted to just go out and be me without having to care for someone else, but this is how it had to be. My husband comes from work tired as heck. He barely sleeps, and there's little time to spend with us, but he's doing his part to provide for us. This allows me the freedom to care for and teach my child as much as I can. It's hard, but it's what we chose.
As a result, I look back into the four years that have passed and I am so proud of us as a family. I couldn't have wished for a more perfect little boy. He makes my heart melt with everything he says. Sure he drives me nuts on more than one occasion. I want to hang him by his feet sometimes. But regardless, he is a representation of our hard work. We did this for him and as a result, we have raised a wonderful son.
Parenting isn't easy. Boy, it's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but it is so rewarding.
Now we have a little girl who is soon to arrive, and I have the same dreams and expectations for her.
I'm not too worried though. We have a special little boy whom she can look up to and learn from.
Life is good. No regrets.
In the days leading up to his birthday, I started to think about all the decisions I made as a parent even before he was born. Every parent wants the best for their children. For some that means buying them everything they need and want, for others it means teaching them values, and for others it means putting them in the best schools and programs. Whatever it is, we all want to give them the very best, and that's exactly what we wanted for our son.
So, what is it that I wanted for him?
I wanted for him to grow up surrounded by love. I wanted him to look back 30 years from now and remember that his parents loved him no matter what. I wanted him to remember a happy childhood, a stable home no matter how small, and to be proud of the person he turned out to be.
I always talk about how proud I am of him. He is a caring boy, he shows affection, and he is compassionate. These are very good qualities to have, but seeing them on a four year old, my four year old, is even more amazing to me. I feel like every single decision we've made towards raising him has molded him into the little person he is today. Some may not agree with our approach, but everything we do for him is with love.
One of the biggest sacrifices we had to make to give him the best care in the world, was for me to stay home and raise him while my husband worked crazy hours to bring in extra income. I never thought I'd be a stay at home mom, but I did it, and I don't regret it. Sure it was hard, sure I wanted to just go out and be me without having to care for someone else, but this is how it had to be. My husband comes from work tired as heck. He barely sleeps, and there's little time to spend with us, but he's doing his part to provide for us. This allows me the freedom to care for and teach my child as much as I can. It's hard, but it's what we chose.
As a result, I look back into the four years that have passed and I am so proud of us as a family. I couldn't have wished for a more perfect little boy. He makes my heart melt with everything he says. Sure he drives me nuts on more than one occasion. I want to hang him by his feet sometimes. But regardless, he is a representation of our hard work. We did this for him and as a result, we have raised a wonderful son.
Parenting isn't easy. Boy, it's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but it is so rewarding.
Now we have a little girl who is soon to arrive, and I have the same dreams and expectations for her.
I'm not too worried though. We have a special little boy whom she can look up to and learn from.
Life is good. No regrets.
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