Chronicle Books

My eight-year-old son loves this book. He told me so. He’s asked me to read it to him so many times.  It’s a board book and usually board books are meant to be read to preschool kids.  But I really bought this  with him in mind.

I thought it would be a useful parenting tool. My son, like all children I suppose, is always testing the limits of my patience.  We clash during mealtimes and homework time. Everyday. Most of the time I snap,  raise my voice and nag.  When I do, I feel bad. He looks like a wounded animal and I feel like a big bully. Everytime I lose my calm, I have a hard time changing back into a loving parent.  To mend things between us I would make it a point to read this book to him  at bedtime. It helps me reassure him that no matter what he does and no matter how I react, I will always love him.

Several days ago I called up my sister to congratulate her on her first baby.  I found myself dispensing unsolicited advice.  I’m sure I must have sounded like some fountain of wisdom on all things baby.   (Mental Note: I must curb my teaching tendancies.)

I asked her if she was already breastfeeding. She explained that Naya (that’s the name of my new niece)  was always asleep so she hasn’t started yet.  Then she added that maybe the infant was always full because the nurses were feeding her at the nursery.  It became clear to me that my sister  has not thoroughly read the book that I had passed on to her: Breastfeeding Made Simple by Nancy Mohrbacher and Kathy Kendall-Tackett.

When I gave birth to my first child, I wasn’t able to breastfeed. My son grew up with asthma. He was always on antibiotics for upper respiratory tract infections.  On my second pregnancy I was determined not to fail again.  I took classes, searched the internet for info, and combed bookstores for good reference books on the subject. The one and only book I bought was Breastfeeding Made Simple.  Read it from cover to cover. Proud to say that I’ve been successful. For every problem that came my way, I turned to it for help.  It was my bible.  My daughter is hardly ever sick.  Buying that book was a good investment on my child’s health.

The first and most important lesson I got from it was: breastfeeding is a learned skill. You are not born with an inherent ability to do it.  It is not a simple and automatic skill like breathing or eating. I remember how , when I was pregnant with my first child,  my mother assured me that it is a natural thing for all mothers to do, hence I shouldn’t worry my head about it.  This is one misconception that can lead to failure.  It nurtures a sense of complacency in the mother. It makes her think it’s all eezy peezy and when it’s finally time to do it, she realizes how difficult it is and gives up. 

I would never forget my two days at the hospital after the delivery of my second child. It was a stressful time for me. My husband  ( a nurse) kept insisting that I should give the baby a bottle.  He was afraid that my daughter would get dehydrated.  I explained to him the things that I had read in the book .  He countered with, “You shouldn’t believe all the things you read in books. I’ve taken care of many patients suffering from dehydration.”  Exasperated,  I told him, “You may be a nurse, but you are not trained in lactation.”  That closed the argument.  If it weren’t for that book, I would have been too ignorant to stand my ground.  I would not have succeeded.

My two-year-old never ceases to amaze me. I was picking up some scattered toys when I heard her counting from one to ten all by herself.  Moments like this can fill a mother’s heart with so much happiness.  So I’m marking down July 24, 2008 as a day when my baby reached another milestone in her life.

I’ve been teaching her to count since she was a year old. We would count whenever we’d go up and down the stairs or whenever we put away the toys and stuff that she’d mess up in the living room.  The best that she could say was “two, tee, two, tee” (two, three, two, three). Last month she liked to say “eat, nigh, eat, nigh” (eight, nine,eight,nine) everytime she got hold of the phone.  

All kinds of success can be attributed to something. In this case, I think, her being in preschool has reinforced her learning.  And to think that she started going to school only two weeks ago.  

For two months now she’s been fascinated with Oswald, an octopus cartoon character on the Noggin/Nick Jr. channel.  I can’t understand why she loves it.  The program is very dry and unexciting. I guess because it’s supposed to be an educational show for preschoolers. She has this book, that I bought at the 99 Cent Store, entitled “Counting with Oswald” by  Phoebe Beinstein and illustrated by Etsu Kahata. Before going to bed she’d always look for it saying, “Osald, whey aah you?   Whey aah you, Osald?”.  When she finds it, she’d hand it over to me to read.  We’ve been doing this for about two months. I can memorize the book from cover to cover.   I’m sick of it actually. But now that my baby can count on her own, I suppose I owe you my thanks, Oswald.

Pardon my toilet language.The title isn’t just an axpression. It’s really a piece of   @#$%  that you see at the top of this page. My husband was taken aback when I emailed him this picture so I think you might  react the same way.  

I’m keeping this for posterity because it is my two year old daughter’s first poo in her potty.  June 24, 2008. She achieved a milestone in her life when I least expected it.  The doctor told me that I will have a hard time toilet-training her because of her chronic constipation so I was mentally prepared that she might learn at around age 3 or 4.  On this particular day she didn’t just poo, but also went pee pee three times in her potty.

Who would have thought that a small thing like that could blast me off into cloud nine.  You can just imagine my ecstasy.  Lately I’ve been thinking of going back to work  and putting her in daycare. Most daycares, however, want kids who are toilet-trained.  So I’ve been feeling some anxiety.  This new development has erased some of that.

The day started like any other day. I told her for the nth time that she’s a big girl now and doesn’t need her diapers. I always say this with the hope that she will understand me somehow, without really expecting much.  The day before the 24th  I made her wear panties instead of her pull-up diapers. Those training pants don’t make her feel the need to use her potty so I decided to do it the messy way.     My husband complained loudly that she was peeing everywhere: on the bed, the couch, the floor, the dining room rug, and the kitchen. He insisted that I make her wear her diaper since he had just cleaned the carpet the week before with a steam vacuum that he rented at Vons.  I could understand his concern, but what else could I do?  And I wasn’t wrong.  Going down and dirty was the best way to make her learn.

Thanks to Molly Matthews.  What a gem she is!  She’s the star of the book entitled “Big Girls Use The Potty”, written by Andrea Pinnington.  We read it several times a day.  My toddler  runs to look for her potty everytime we do.  She  loves it. After just a month of reading she has already grasped the idea that I want her to learn. Of course  she still has accidents. Just a little more practice and she’s going to be perfect.  When I feel anxious about it, I try to remember what Molly Matthews said, ” Some days are wet, some days are dry. The most important thing is that you try.”

Phhew! That’s one developmental task accomplished.  Now if I can only get my daughter to understand that hitting people is not good… that would be another milestone.