Soapbox time

Thank you all for reading. It means a lot to me that I am not hollering out an open window into the void. (but a little gratuitous self-promotion never hurts....) Do feel free to leave comments below, all you need is a Blogger username, which is free. If I really hate what you have to say, all I have to do is erase it. Heh!

As I've been talking with friends about journal entries here, I've been thinking a lot about the nature of attachment parenting, and how forbidding the term can be. The ideals are intimidating on paper, and I'm sure they make a lot of parents feel inadequate. Myself included. But they are only a set of tools, or reminders really.

Before I had Charlotte, I thought that AP was a little bit nuts. I had every intention of doing everything "conventionally," (sleeping arrangements, going back to work, etc) because I thought it was the only way to save my own sanity. To protect myself from being submerged in motherhood. It didn't turn out that way at all. And nothing could have protected me from that, it was pretty much a given. I believe it's better to run with it than fight it.

For me, attachment parenting can be boiled down to two points: 1) Raising the child you were blessed with, by birth or adoption, in a way that respects his or her needs as a person and not trying to jam them into a mold that doesn't fit. Doesn't matter where the mold comes from -- your parents, your friends, (even crunchy mamas like myself) TV, or a book. Do what works for you and junk the rest. 2) Accepting the idea that a baby is a baby, and not a miniature adult. Don't rush them into growing up before they're ready. Of course, babies want to be held close. Of course, they want to nurse whenever they're hungry. Even if the last time they ate was fifteen minutes ago. ;)

I lost a few friends last year over differences in parenting styles. It was not that I disapproved of what they were doing with their own babies, their kids were all well-loved and happy. In my own insecurity, I couldn't sit and listen to their well-meaning advice. Sure, maybe if we'd let Charlotte "cry it out," we would all be sleeping all night, in our own beds right now. But -- I'm happy that we're not. When she's ready, she's ready.

This weekend, we had some funny developments. I found myself yelling "GENTLE!" at the baby in a very un-gentle tone of voice. (reminds me of a favorite column in Catherine Newman's Bringing Up Ben & Birdy - scroll down to the end, "Birdy's First Word")

Dexter (our long-suffering cat) and Charlotte are finally coming to some sort of understanding. He comes up and rubs his head on her tummy, or her back, and purrs quite happily when she pats him, or gives him smoochy, cat-fur-inhaling kisses. He is less happy about the "hard pats" (or smacks). Tail pulling, also not good. We're getting there -- she used to go directly for his eyes!