Marko is two

Can you believe it?

One hour old

Four days old

Three weeks old

One month old

Two months old

Three months old

Six months old

Nine months old

One year old

Eighteen months old

Today

How long did it take you to scroll through all those pictures? Yeah, that's about how fast these two years have gone by. Sniff.

Parenting books

I love parenting books. First off, I just enjoy reading them. I love kids, and I love reading about them. Second, I learn a lot of useful tips, even from the books I disagree with. And third, I consider it part of my professional development. If my occupation is to mother my children, well, by golly, I'll be the best at it that I can be. I'm not content just to muddle my way through; I'd like to do better. My job is at least as important as any other job there is. I'm raising the next generation. I take that very seriously.

So when I come up against a topic, whether it's parenting-related (like spanking) or based on another one of my interests (like garden tilling or gluten or whatever else), I research the heck out of it. I want to know every possible angle and point of view. Of course I come at it with my own biases, but I try to give every point of view its fair hearing. Then I try what seems right to me. Sometimes it works fabulously and I think, "Wow, so glad I read that book and tried this!" Sometimes it backfires horribly and I think, "Gee, I guess the guy who wrote that book didn't know what he was talking about. Or it just doesn't work for my situation." And I try something else until I find something that works well. Throughout the process, I also listen to my instincts and common sense.

This process can take months. And at the end of it, I really feel confident in my decisions. I don't find myself shaken up by the judgments of others, because I feel like I know what I'm talking about. I've become as close to an expert as I can be.

And then, invariably, I state my opinion about something and am met with a scoff. "I bet you got that out of some book." In one sentence, all of my work and effort and knowledge are completely dismissed, usually by someone who doesn't know the first thing about the topic. Of course ignorance doesn't stop anyone from having an opinion. I don't think it should. Especially when it comes to child-raising, I don't think you have to read books to know how to do it. But on the other hand, I don't think having read books disqualifies me from knowing what I'm talking about.

I mean, imagine I'm talking to an astrophysicist. He is trying to explain string theory to me, and it just makes no sense. It seems obvious to me that the universe doesn't work that way. I may be right, in fact. But is it any argument to say, "Oh, I bet you got that out of some book"? When you're writing a doctoral dissertation, you're expected to cite your sources. Everything is supposed to be out of some book. But with parenting, it's somehow considered superior never to have cracked one.

I love to listen to grandmas who've never cracked a parenting book. I don't even mind listening to single people with no kids tell me what they think. You can learn a lot that way. But yes, I am insulted when the second I say, "Well, statistically speaking, they've linked that approach with psychological damage," the answer is, "I suppose you could have a study about anything." Or worse, "You read that on the internet, didn't you?"

Um, yeah. I do research on the internet. That's kind of what you do in the 21st century. When Marko broke out in spots, I did some googling and quickly realized it was probably roseola. But, not wanting to be "one of those parents" who diagnoses their kid on the internet and ignores potentially dangerous diseases, I took him in to the doctor. The doctor took one look at him, said, "It's roseola," and gave me a printout on roseola ... from WebMD, where I'd just been. The internet is where people go to find sources that they used to find at the library. (Of course I read print books at the library too.) As an added bonus, I get to hear personal experiences of other moms ... who are, for the record, no different from moms I might meet at the playground. But do people say dismissively, "Oh, you probably heard that from some other mom whose kid has the same problem"? No, because everyone knows other moms are a good source of advice. Unless they have blogs. Then they're just my imaginary friends.

I'll admit it, I'm a bit defensive of you guys, my bloggy friends. I learn a lot from you and I hate to hear you getting dismissed as "just some wacko on the internet" when I bring in a lesson I learned from one of you.

Maybe it's just my pride. I want to be considered the resident expert on parenting because I read so many books. On the other hand, I wonder what it's going to take for people to think I know what I'm talking about. I'm not asking for other parents to consult me on their kids. But I wish they'd at least give me credit for knowing a little bit about what might be best for my kid. I don't think reading Dr. Sears disqualifies me from that.

What is coercion?

A prisoner is being tortured to give up vital wartime secrets or sign a false confession. Eventually, he realizes he has to give in -- but when he sits in the chair indicated by his captors, he moves it an inch to the right. It's his way of preserving his own sense of freedom and his belief in his free will.

Meanwhile, a six-year-old is being kept in time-out until he will say sorry. It's been an hour and he finally gives in. But he will only say it in the world's quietest voice. His parents send him back until he can say it "like he means it."

The two situations are very different. One is truly "cruel and unusual" while the other one is just a time-out. But the goal is the same: to force someone to do something they strongly do not want to do. One person uses some form of punishment to override another person's will in the hopes of making it choose what they want it to choose.

I don't believe in doing this to kids. It just rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it helps that I have a very good memory. I remember exactly how it felt to be put in situations like this. It was like being between a rock and a hard place. My own sense of morals and self-respect demanded that I follow through with what I had said I would do. If I'd refused to say sorry, I had to stick with it or I was being dishonest and inconsistent. I knew I would hate myself for saying it, if I gave in, and I felt kind of like a hero for not doing it. But at the same time, I also knew I was supposed to obey my parents. I wished so hard they had asked for something different, or asked in a way that would let me save face. Instead I would eventually give in, but with my own twist: I could say sorry quietly, I could write it instead of saying it, I could say it in a tone of voice that would make it clear I didn't mean it. That way I could live up to my own convictions and get out of time-out sometime before I turned eighteen.

What seems odd to me is that parenting books that go on and on about how coercion is bad still tend to recommend tactics like this. Parenting With Grace, which I otherwise enjoyed, recommends a time-out procedure that includes never getting out until the child re-does to the parent's satisfaction whatever they did wrong. I'm sure there are lots of compliant children who would wait out their time and then do what their parent asked, because they asked it. But the "strong-willed" kids, like me or my siblings or my son? We would stay in that time-out for ever, and if we ever capitulated, we'd hate ourselves and our parents for it. That anger would end up coming out in other incidents later in the day or the week, and our parents wouldn't know why we had so much bitterness stored up.

(As far as I remember, this didn't happen all that often. My parents didn't often try to go toe-to-toe with me, and anyway I did try to please them in general. And my vaunted willpower that I was so proud of usually caved after ten minutes of time-out. Time-out was the worst punishment for me. I hated it so much. Spankings weren't so bad, because once they were over, they were over, even if you didn't say sorry.)

Now I'm not saying coercion is equivalent to torture, or that it's immoral, or that it makes you a bad parent. I just think it's counterproductive. Don't we want to raise children who would withstand torture rather than give up their faith or tell where the Jews are hidden? Don't we want our kids to listen to their inner voice over any outer voice that tries to pressure them into something that they know is wrong? Besides, coercion inspires so much anger and bitterness. Kids of all ages consider it a virtue to stand up to someone who tries to coerce them. If they can't manage that, they'll try to get back in other ways. There's no winning once you get into that kind of battle. Either you lose it, or you find yourself in a full-fledged war.

So what sorts of things count as coercion?

*Spanking a child until they confess to something. Yes, even if you know they did it. (Much worse if you later turn out to be wrong!)
*Making a child repeat, word for word, a phrase we think they should use until they do it in the tone we want.
*Repeating a punishment over and over until some magic word is said or action done. Of course, with spanking or withholding food or shutting out in the cold, this could be terribly dangerous, as well, and we've seen that in some recent child-abuse deaths. The punishment was to continue until the child "gave in" -- and the child's will was, in a few cases, stronger than their life. It doesn't matter how minor the original issue was. For the child, it's a question of their personal integrity, and they completely lose sight (as the parents seem to have) of how minor an issue it is.

Pretty much any time you say, "I will keep doing X to you until you do Y," you are coercing a child. On the other hand, logical or natural consequences don't seem coercive to me. I'm thinking of things like this:

*I will not pick you up if you are hitting me.
*Until those chores are done, we won't be going to the store.
*As long as you have no pants on, we are not going outside.

It's still an "until" kind of thing. I spent an hour with Marko once trying to get him to put his pants on. Sure, I could have just grabbed him and stuck his pants on. But I thought I'd give him a chance to learn about choices, so I said, "We will go outside when you are wearing pants. If you are not wearing pants, we will stay inside." It took him about an hour, during which he cried occasionally, but mostly just played with his inside toys, until he came up to me and asked for his pants.

It just doesn't seem like coercion to me because he had a choice, and both choices were okay. Playing inside naked was okay, and playing outside with pants was okay. I didn't insist he say or do a certain thing a certain way ... I just wanted to let him play outside without flashing the entire neighborhood. (Not that it would shock them, at this point.) I was trying to make a framework in which he could exercise his will freely, but only in ways that were acceptable to me. So I was limiting his will, but not forcing it one way or the other.

The same goes for the hitting thing. Up with no hitting and down are both viable options. I'm not trying to control him, but trying to respect myself. I can't let myself be hurt, so I have come up with two ways for him not to hurt me: down, or up while being gentle.

Meanwhile, when trying to teach something -- and this is more with older kids, like my students -- I try to leave an "out." In other words, I leave a way for the child to cooperate with me while saving face. For instance, if they ask for something in a rude way, I say, "Gee, that sounds rude. Can you try another way?" I might suggest another way, but anything they come up with that isn't rude is fine. If they can't come up with a way that isn't rude, I just say, "Well, I just don't feel like doing that for you when you ask that way. Why don't you try again later?" Putting it off till later gives the child a chance to think of a better way to ask, get out of the rude mood they're in, or maybe even decide they don't want what they originally asked for. (And that's fine too.)

Sometimes, especially when I feel the child didn't know they were doing something wrong, I don't correct at all. I just say, "Sure, I will do that for you. Next time, though, you should try a more polite way, like 'Please would you sharpen my pencil?'" In other words, I don't bother trying to fix this time. They did their best for this time, but they get a suggestion for next time. That way, they have a chance to learn the right way without ever being "wrong." I mean, wouldn't it be awful if the only way to learn a math problem was to do it wrong first? Wouldn't we rather be shown how first, and then have the test? A wrong answer can really make you feel dumb, even after you learn what the right answer is.

It just seems to me that, even if you are giving a child a consequence for something, it's much better to just give the consequence and let it speak for itself than require a behavior change immediately after. Punishment makes you feel bad. Right after one isn't a good time for learning. You don't feel like cooperating, so you do it in the least cooperative way you can. I'd rather just punish a child for hitting and then let him get back to playing than try to force him to apologize. (Though my usual method is just to separate the child so he can't hit anymore.) That way a consequence is really a consequence -- a result of past action -- rather than a form of coercion, intended to derive some further action. Kids aren't dumb. They can still use the experience of the unpleasant consequence to shape their actions next time. But they can do it on their own time, in their own way, with their own will.

What do you think? I picked a harsh word, "coercion," because I don't see another word that quite fits what I'm trying to describe. Even so, is this something you do or would do? What do you do instead?

History and parenting

Parenting has changed a lot throughout history. Of course, the historical context has affected the way people parent. But I rarely hear about how the way people parent has affected history. Wouldn't that make a great book to read? Think of how the Roman consul had his two sons put to death for treachery. Surely an attitude of "state before family" affected every Roman child. Meanwhile wealthy British children of the 19th century mostly went to boarding school. What effects might this have had on English policy once those aristocratic boys grew up to become members of Parliament?

Hunter-gatherers were known to be extremely indulgent parents, who expected children to teach themselves and left them to it. Their society was egalitarian and pretty much anarchical. In feudal times, children were expected to be obedient and dutiful. Their society was in a strict hierarchy, without a lot of freedom for anyone. Which is the cause, and which is the effect?

I read in Parenting With Grace (an interesting book; review to follow ... eventually) that someone thought to do a background study on the way Germans under the Nazis were parented. They found a very deep divide. The German custom of the time was very strict parenting expecting "first time obedience" with no back talk, and utilizing frequent corporal punishment. Those who were raised this way tended to grow up to collaborate with the Nazis. Among those who objected, joined resistance groups, or saved Jews, it was found that almost all of them were raised in households considered very "lax," where they were allowed to question their parents' orders and where they were rarely spanked, if at all. The apparent conclusion is that those who are raised to be obedient will continue to be so as adults; those who are raised to question authority will do so when they grow up.

This all gets me thinking about the huge changes in parenting in the past century. I keep hearing of how awful the 20th century was, how huge a shift in culture there was, and yet no one seems to have an adequate explanation for why, after the "perfection" of the 1950's, all those Baby Boomer kids ran out and experimented with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. In fact, no one seems to adequately explain the Baby Boom at all.

Try this on for size: the 1940's and 50's were when formula feeding became the norm. Breastfeeding went so far out of style as to be considered something only the impoverished would do. Formula was sterile, doctor-approved, and could be given by the nanny while Mom was out being Rosie the Riveter.

At the same time, birth was completing its shift from home to hospital. More and more, women were turning to doctors and books to learn how to raise their babies, rather than their mothers, because it was doctors and nurses who surrounded them in their first days of motherhood, not family. Mothers were told to raise their children on strict schedules and ignore their crying -- something which perhaps had been suggested before, but for the first time, mothers listened and obeyed.

The first result I can see is that all of a sudden, probably quite unexpectedly, women lost the natural child spacing they were accustomed to. Maybe they didn't know that breastfeeding helped space babies out; but surely they noticed that they were getting pregnant a lot more often. Family size exploded. The assumption is always that the birthrate rose because people wanted more babies -- but I'm pretty sure that a lot of people didn't use birth control back then. Babies just happened, and suddenly they were happening a lot more often. (I'm not saying they minded.)

The second result was a generation that had no desire whatsoever to follow in their parents footsteps or make their parents happy. They suffered from a profound disillusionment about everything their parents said and did. Can it be from a lack of attachment in infancy? Who can say?

I'm always told, generally by baby boomers, "These kids nowadays, they never behave. Back when we were kids, in the 50's, we had to do what we were told or get a smack. And we grew up great." Well, maybe. But weren't they also the world's first rebellious teenagers?

Each generation since has been parented a bit differently. Gen-Xers are likely to have been latchkey kids. What common traits does this generation have, and what in their upbringing might have contributed to that? As for my own generation, it's a mixed bag. Ditto for the one being raised today. We are increasingly unlikely to believe either our pediatrician or our mother -- instead, we read a wide variety of sources to try to decide how we want to parent. Attachment parenting is on the rise, but so are a number of other schools of thought (tiger mothering, French parenting, helicopter parenting, fundamentalist Christian parenting). I personally parent pretty much how my parents did, because I like the way I was raised. Many other parents who share my philosophy are doing the opposite of what their parents did, because they don't like how they were raised.

The book Our Babies, Ourselves maintains that each society maintains rules for child-raising based on its values. They seek to raise children who will adopt the values of the society they live in. What are the values modern Americans want to instill in our children? Independence, interdependence, obedience, love of liberty? Clearly we don't all agree on what "product" we want to turn out. But we should be looking at history and trying to figure out what parenting habits produce what product. Then perhaps we'd have some idea how we ourselves should raise our children.

This is just a rambling list of ideas about how history and parenting affect one another. Wouldn't you just love a book on this topic, by someone who knew more about it than I do? What do you think about my hypotheses?

I fail at lettuce

I've had no trouble growing tomatoes, herbs, peas, or beans. So I thought this gardening thing was easy. But then I came up against lettuce.

Really, it shouldn't be too hard. Everyone grows lettuce. The gardening books have no special warnings, and act like growing lettuce can be easily described in three paragraphs before moving on to melons.

I tried to grow it last fall. I didn't know what date to start it on, so I sowed more every week or so throughout August and September. I tried different methods. I planted it 1/4 inch deep, 1/8 inch deep, sprinkled a dusting of fine soil over it, or left it right on the surface. I tried two different varieties (Mignonette Bronze and iceberg). In the end, I got about six seedlings, of which three actually made it so far as to be eaten. They made a very small salad.

This year, I've tried more things. I tried them early, direct-seeded in the garden, but no luck. I figured the soil hadn't had time to warm. I started them inside, and they did okay. That is, the iceberg lettuce sprouted, grew leggy, and collapsed before it had even unfolded its cotyledons. The Mignonette, despite being leggy as well (the light isn't great in any room of the house, and even with being carried from sunny spot to sunny spot all day, it's definitely not getting enough) actually did develop a few spindly true leaves, so I set it out and am hoping for the best. The first few days were like a horror movie ... every day I'd go out, and there would be one fewer. Vanished without a trace. But now I have 12 that look like they're going to pull through.

I direct-seeded some more lettuce two weeks ago, with no results. I've done similarly with carrots and spinach. I'm beginning to think there is just a rule around here: If it comes in a tiny seed, you will not be able to grow it. I mean, why would it survive? These seedlings are so teeny tiny when they sprout. A raindrop would flatten them. (Perhaps that's what happened.) Or wash the seeds away. The wind blows the mulch over them and smothers them. The sun is apparently too much for them. The seedbed gets dry and crusted if I don't water it really often, but if I do water it, am I just washing all the seeds away? (It's really hard to achieve a fine mist over the seedbed with just my thumb in the hose, but I don't have a proper sprayer or a watering can. I'll probably have to spring for those if I ever want to grow anything from seed.) I can sprout pretty much any seed in purchased soil, but my garden soil is so full of clay, I'm hardly surprised to find nothing is growing there.

Otherwise, my garden's going fine. My peas are all up and looking hearty. I know I shouldn't have done it so early, but I planted some beans just for kicks when it was hot. It promptly turned cooler again, so I will probably have to replant those. I also transplanted my herbs. I've been growing them inside since February, and they haven't been doing too well, despite my setting them outside every sunny day. When I turned them out of their sour cream containers, I mean pots, I saw the trouble. Though there wasn't much to see on the surface, their roots had filled up all the available space. So they should be much happier there in my garden. As an added bonus, the sky is not going to forget to water them or expose them to the sun the way I tend to do. My usual habit of total neglect does much better outdoors than in.

Today I peeled up the newspaper and mulch in the bed where the green peppers will grow. It's the only part left completely undug. I did the other half of that bed, which is destined for pumpkins, by just cutting the sod off and turning it over before replacing the mulch. I had to call in John's assistance for the tomato-and-cucumber bed, where he did the same thing. But I wasn't up to digging the pepper bed, and there was grass sticking up in rips in the newspaper. I figured it was pretty much a lost cause. Turns out, except for those few isolated grass clumps I could see, most everything was decomposed under there. There was some white, withered grass, which I carelessly yanked up some handfuls of and left the rest. I pulled up the big clumps that were sticking through and filled in the gaps in the newspaper. I honestly don't think I'll bother digging there at all. The soil texture looks great. Of course, if I remove the mulch, the grass will grow again. That stuff is really invasive, and the roots are still there waiting for a chance. The onion grass is even worse. But if I leave the mulch right where it is, and just cut holes to stick the pepper plants in ... it might work a lot better than trying to remove the paper and add a new mulch. I can do the same with the tomatoes in the other bed, leaving the newspaper on all summer. I'll just have to clear spots for the cucumbers and the pumpkins, since those are direct-seeded.

This is my first season trying to do a "full" garden with all the things I want to grow. I have to admit, I'm greener than I thought, even after spending all winter reading gardening books, making charts and calendars, and daydreaming. There isn't a ton of work -- less than I'd like, in fact, because I'm so anxious to get moving -- but I'm realizing I don't really know what I'm doing.

Can you grow lettuce? What's your secret?

Planning for postpartum

Wet hair from my first postpartum shower ... four days after Marko was born.

I didn't really plan anything for when Marko was born. I did manage to pack a hospital bag! We had the carseat and Moses basket set up, and that was pretty much it. I went into labor, went to the hospital, and came home in a state of bewilderment. I was ready to pop the baby into his Moses basket and go to bed, only to find that he did not want to go to bed at seven or eight or nine p.m., and also that he had apparently totally forgotten how to eat. I spent all evening camped on the couch with a boppy pillow and a feeling of desperation. How was I supposed to make dinner?! I had expected to be tired and sore, but not THAT tired and sore. So when John's mother asked if it was too soon to drive down, I said "PLEASE COME NOW." By the time she (and four of my sisters-in-law) had left, I could actually walk, so it wasn't so bad. Still, I lived off Chips Ahoy and leftover casserole for about three more weeks after that.

So this time, I'm doing a lot more planning. However, I have a toddler to worry about, now, too, so I imagine a lot more planning will be required. It's quite likely that I will plan just enough to be as hopelessly lost as I was last time!

This time, I won't be having family coming right around the birth. Since my own family lives in Korea, they can't exactly fly over at a moment's notice, and I wanted to be sure I would have the baby in time for them to see it, so I asked them to come later in May. I've just heard one too many unfortunate stories of perfectly planned visits and two-week late babies, ending up in grandma having to go home while her grandchild is still on the inside. No thanks! I want very much to be relaxed about when this baby comes, not freaking out about it being too soon or late. John's family is coming, too, about a week after the due date, so we'll have some time with no family, and then help coming later in shifts.

John, however, is NOT going to be in another state this time, thank goodness, so he will be taking some time off work that first week. So it looks like I won't have too much time to fend for myself: first, John will be around; then his family; then my family. But depending on the actual day the baby is born, I might have a week or so in between where I'm on my own during the day.

The number one thing I'm trying to plan for is food. If it were just me, I could probably scrounge enough to get by on throughout the day, and just starve the rest of the time. It's what I did last time (I lost the baby weight so fast! And felt so lousy!). But there's Marko to think of. He's not going to want to wait until the end of a marathon nursing session for me to go and scrounge spoonfuls of peanut butter for him. He will want actual food, food that can be prepared quickly and food that he likes. John might be able to manage dinners (though maybe not, since he comes home at six p.m.), but for breakfast, lunch, and the many snacks Marko and I usually eat, I'm on my own.

That's what I'm stocking up on right now. I've got a lot of baked goods in the freezer waiting for me: carrot muffins, homemade hot pockets, and English muffins. I'm also planning to keep the fridge well-stocked with lunch meat, cheese, and bananas, which are Marko's favorite snack foods. For me, I'll make sure I have celery and carrots to munch on (I remember how desperately I craved raw, fresh veggies last time), and I should probably make sure to have some hummus in the freezer too. I also need to keep up on making yogurt in big batches, so I always have some at the ready. I usually make four pints at once, every week or two when I buy a gallon of milk.

There's no way I can make and store all the dinners we'll be eating in the first few weeks, but I've got a few containers of chicken soup in there now, and I hope to put up at least a lasagna or two and some tuna casserole as well. For the other days, I think John or I should be able to manage at least some very basic dinners: chicken and rice, or baked chicken with potatoes. (John is quite capable of cooking stuff like that: it's just the "fancy" stuff I make that he doesn't know how to do. But what he makes is plenty nourishing and delicious even without a fancy sauce.)

Chores -- ha! I'm going to let the place get messy. John can do some picking up here and there, and I may do some picking up here and there, but let's face it: we'll be stepping over toys much of the time. I really don't care. Dishes are the one thing that really MUST be done ... so John will have to pick up whatever I can't do.

Entertaining Marko is the big challenge. I mean, that's a lot of what I do all day. I'm trying to keep the house well stocked with library books, which are always a hit. If we spend the day sitting on the couch nursing the baby and reading books, he'll be at least relatively happy (since books are usually more of a treat for a few times a day -- he always wants more long after I'm tired of reading them) and I'll get rest. I'm also going to buy a few new toys for him at Goodwill or the dollar store which will come out once the baby's born. A new toy usually buys us one really easy day as he tinkers with it and exhausts all its possibilities. Finally, we're lifting the TV ban for awhile. I just am not sure I could make it through with no hypnotizing backup available for when they both want attention. (I spent Marko's first month of life watching documentaries on Netflix. This time, perhaps some Discovery Channel shows on Hulu. What do you know of that's a hit with toddlers and available free online?)

The hard part for me is probably going to be taking a break from my online life. It's my main social outlet, and I know I'll be lonely without it. However, I just can't imagine having time for much other than an occasional Facebook update here and there ... it may be awhile before I can get the time to blog. I may not even be able to manage many phone conversations, if they are both needy and/or hollering when I am trying to talk on the phone. So I'm very likely to be lonely on those days when I have neither John nor either of our families.

On the other hand, I actually do have friends who live in the area! Who have asked what I need! I'm not really counting "help from friends" on the list of things I'm preparing for, but I am sure if anyone does come over to help out, it will be a tremendous help. So here's my list of things I think I would like, to share with anyone who plans to stop by:

*I would really like to sit and talk to an adult. I know many people just want you to drop off dinner and leave ... but I am pretty sure I would prefer at least a short visit.

*I would like dishes done. It's going to be hard for us to get all of those. So visitors may make themselves quite at home in my kitchen, to wash a dish or two or the whole sinkful. Every dish washed will help.

*I wouldn't say no to food of any kind. Dinners are helpful, but so are snacks, baked goods, etc. I am not planning to be on any special diet, and Marko isn't on one currently either. Of course, if the new baby is fussy or rashy, I may start eliminating things, but I expect to be eating everything in sight at least for the first few weeks.

*I would like playdates for Marko. So friends with toddlers are welcome to come over and play ... especially if you are going to be doing all the "jumping up and breaking up fights" part. Not sure if I will be up to jumping anywhere. But Marko loves to have friends over and it would be a load off my mind knowing he was getting some outside interest. (Friends without toddlers can just come play with Marko themselves, of course, if they want to!)

*I would like to be told in advance when you're coming so I can let you know if that's a good time. Facebook will probably be the best way to do that.

I'm not sure how much help, realistically, my friends will be able to offer, since most of them live at some distance and all of them either have jobs or kids, but I can tell you right now, a visit from a friend would probably make my whole week, even if they didn't bring or do anything! Phone calls are nice, too, though (like I said) I'm not sure I will be able to talk long.

I'm hoping that by the time my own family leaves, I'll be ready to take on full responsibility for the house again. It took me four weeks last time to really feel strong enough and confident enough as a mom to get back into the swing of things. So my plan is as follows:

*Week 1: care for self and new baby. John does everything else. (How I do love that man.)
*Week 2: care for self, new baby, and Marko. Survive till six p.m.
*Week 3: care for self, new baby, and Marko; and prepare food as needed.
*Week 4: care for self, new baby, and Marko; prepare food; and wash dishes.
After week 4: do all my usual chores, plus take care of the new baby, of course.

The scary thing is that Marko doesn't nap, so I won't be able to "sleep when the baby sleeps." Then I remember that, once my in-laws went home last time, I never, ever slept when Marko slept. I finally started doing it when he was about five months old. That's a lot of naps I really should have taken, and didn't. And somehow I survived! And this time, with cosleeping and hopefully getting the hang of nursing lying down, I should be getting more sleep at night. As long as Marko manages to make a habit of sleeping through the night!

Moms, especially of multiple children: what did you do to get ready for those first few weeks? What do you wish you had done?

Physical affection for the non-snuggler

I complain a lot about my very physical, very non-snuggly son. When he's feeling the least bit crabby, and sometimes when he isn't, he climbs all over me. He isn't at all gentle. He pulls at my hair, climbs up my pregnant belly, and pokes at my eyes. I've tried and tried to teach him to be gentle, but for some reason this is a really hard lesson for him to learn.

If he gets too rough, I do put him down. But he gives a wail like his heart is breaking, and I just know he has some need that he is trying to meet by what he's doing. He wouldn't be so attached to doing these things, and do them specifically when he's unhappy and needs comforting, if there weren't some comfort he was getting out of it.

So I would try to pick him up and hold him on my lap. But he refuses to snuggle. This child does not melt into you like other kids do when they snuggle. He doesn't sit quietly. First he tries to rotate around so he's facing me, then he grabs two fistfuls of hair and starts to climb. I force him back to my lap and he starts to slide off ... but if I let him slide off instead of catching and holding him, he cries. Then he leans way backward so he's hanging upside-down. My arms just can't keep him in that position for long, but again, if I stop him, there are more tears.

I've been puzzling over this for a long time -- pretty much his whole life, actually, because he has never, ever been a snuggler -- and I've come up with a few things that really help.

I just concluded that what he really needs is physical touch and stimulation. But it has to be rough touch. And he has to be moving. If snuggling is at all confining, it's like torture for him. So the number one best thing for this kid is tickling. I've always tickled him from time to time, but it hasn't been a big thing with me. I made a resolution this week to tickle him for a significant block of time every day.

Because tickling can make a child feel helpless or out of control, I leave it up to him: "Would you like a neck nuzzle? What about a belly blow?" He almost always yells "Yes!" If he says "No!" a moment later, I stop. More often, though, I stop for a breather and he yells "More tickles!" I always want this to be something he wants and asks for.

In addition to tickling, I'm trying to do more roughhousing. This is hard for me because I'm worried about getting kicked or elbowed ... he is a big kid, after all, and a strong one. But I've figured out a lot of rough games that don't put anyone at much risk for being hurt: chase, rocketship, dangling upside-down, and so forth. Daddy does all this better than me, but I've stopped leaving it all for him -- I make sure I'm doing it some too, generally in the morning after chore time when Marko needs a bit of attention anyway. We wind down with big bear hugs and kisses (lately, Marko does like these).

A final thing Marko loves is being carried. Since he's in motion, he doesn't get antsy like he does with other forms of physical touch. Unfortunately, I can't do that. It sucks, and I sometimes feel like I'm failing him as a mother because I can't give him that comfort. Especially because I did very little babywearing -- basically only at work -- when he was smaller. He probably needed it then, and didn't get it, and still needs it now. On the other hand, we have been transitioning into other forms of physical affection that he does like, and which he won't grow too big for, so hopefully not getting carried as much won't do him any harm.

The only downside of all this is that I don't get what I need. I know this isn't something most people bring up -- you don't want to sound like you're selfish! But the fact is, I need physical affection, too. It's one of my primary love languages and I have always known it makes me a better mother the more physical contact I get. That was the wonderful thing about cosleeping, and why I want to do it more next time. I would wake up feeling much more tolerant and patient about whatever little thing was bothering us when we went down for a nap. Sleeping alone on the couch while Marko slept in his crib has never had the same effect.

So I try to get my snuggles in where I can. I still rock Marko to sleep in my arms, and I very often keep holding him for awhile after he's asleep. If he wakes at night, I go in and lie down with him, rather than picking him up. (This is mainly for the sake of my back, secondarily so he learns to go back to sleep in his own bed, and only lastly for the snuggles -- but those are nice too.) And if I'm feeling impatient, frustrated, and angry, I offer to read a book. A book keeps Marko quiet and happy, and he doesn't even notice that my arm is around him. (I wish this would satisfy his physical needs, too, but it doesn't seem to.) I always feel calmer and more loving toward him after reading time.

I've spent most of Marko's life thinking, "How sad, my son just doesn't need snuggles!" He didn't want to be held much, so I gave him lots of floor time. Now I'm thinking he does need snuggles after all -- he just doesn't know it, and is too high-energy to get the kind of snuggles I most readily hand out. My addition of tickling and roughhousing, though, has really helped. Perhaps it's really that his cold is getting better and his teeth are finishing up coming in. But this week has been a much easier week than the past couple. And the climbing and hair-pulling has virtually ceased! When it does appear again, I offer tickles or chasing or some other physical thing, and Marko accepts readily. And once he's had that, he goes back to playing, not climbing.

You have no idea how much better this revelation makes me feel. I hope it continues to work -- but if it doesn't, I think the train of thought that brought it up will suggest another course of action. I just have to ask, "How else can I fulfill the need he has that he's trying to fulfill right now?" Hopefully that will lead me to new answers. All I want is to show my little boy the love he needs.

*Note. I know some of what I describe sounds like sensory processing disorder. I don't think he has that, because it's not as extreme as I make it sound sometimes. It's not all the time, and it's not beyond what some other toddlers I've seen also do. But yes, I do keep an eye on that possibility, for what it's worth.