It took Amie over four months to find happiness at daycare. Even then it took an experiment to make her feel more at ease.

  • The babysitter

Two weekends ago, Amie’s Baba and I went to a concert. We had gone out only once since Amie was born, at a time long ago before she tumbled into a long and difficult phase of separation anxiety. For a long time we couldn’t think of anyone she would be comfortable with – this was before (we caught on to) the miraculous transformation in her social attitude. That Sunday, however, we felt confident that she would love the babysitter. It was the wonderful assistant at the daycare center she attends three days a week and to whom she is very attached.

We left in the middle of the concert – we were new at this babysitting thing! – not wanting to be away from our daughter any longer, not knowing how her evening was going, and not keen on adding another $13 to the exceptional cost of that evening. When we got home, we could see that Amie had had a wonderful time. The assistant, eager to set my mind at ease about the evening, told us:

“She was so happy! I’ve never seen her so happy at the daycare. I’ve never seen her laugh so much!”

  • Stressed out at daycare 

She said it with the best of intentions, but my reaction of relief was shortlived. Soon I was mulling it over, worrying it to death, fairly plunging into grief and doubt. Amie had just been who she is when she is here, at home. She was obviously very unhappy, “stressed out,” the assistant said, at daycare.

I am all for daycare, and later on preschool and school, if the child is happy there and thrives. And if the setting or institution can provide the education, stimulation and friendship the child needs. And if the home situation complements the “formal education” with whatever is needed for an all-rounded person. But those are other matters.

Daycare makes it possible for me work on my dissertation, novel and writing and reading: all projects that I add up to the kind of role-model I want to be for my daughter. That is, a woman who can balance motherthood, creative work and homemaking. A mother who loves to give all of herself, but who also is herself. I don’t mean to say that one can’t be creative while childrearing, but personally I can’t concentrate on long, complex philosphical arguments while singing Patty Cake.

  • Experiment

Having that particular person babysit was an experiment and a risk. At daycare, she was Amie’s total mommy-surrogate: immediately after I left after drop-off, Amie clung to her (like she clung to me at home); the moment I came in for pick-up, Amie ran to me and ignored her. The hours in between, Amie monopolized her, demanding to be picked up and cuddled by her (I was assured this behavior sprung from her personal emotional need, not from a manipulative or bullyish nature). It was hard on the staff and the other kids. What if our experiment had made he attachment more intense?

It didn’t. The Tuesday following that babysitting Sunday, Amie went into daycare and was happy! She was on Wednesday and Thursday as well. And she no longer laid exclusive claim on the assistant. After more than four months of struggling to adjust, she had turned the corner. The one moment she had cried – woken up from her nap by coughing – the assistant had calmed her down and made her laugh by reminiscing about what they had done that Sunday.

No doubt this change is connected to Amie’s newfound sense of independence and freedom. But I believe the experiment helped substantially. Amie realized that she could be relaxed and feel safe and happy with the assistant, and she carried that attitude over into the daycare situation.

  • Be committed 

When it comes to the crunch (an unhappy child who doesn’t seem to adjust), it pays off to experiment, but you have to be committed to the result.  Amie had been at daycare four  months and was still unhappy: it was an unbearable situation. If the experiment had failed and made things worse, I think I would have taken her out of daycare altogether.

Of course the experiment isn’t over! Last week may have been a fluke. She could revert back to unhappiness any time. She’ll have to adjust all over again to pre-K, to Kindergarten.

I guess that’s what we signed up for when we became parents!

gdiaper.jpg   sevgen_diaper.jpg 

Whether you’re a new parent or have just been blessed with a second/third/fourth… baby, diapers are probably of major concern to you.

I’ve written a review article of the “ecological” diaper brands that we have, personally, used:

  1. Seventh Generation
  2. Whole Foods 365 Everyday Value
  3. gDiapers

I run through many considerations, such as baby’s comfort, cost, ease of use, contribution to pollution and landfills, and ingredients. Among the latter, the contested safety of SAP (short for sodium acrylate polymer or sodium polyacrylate) is an important concern.

I’m sure I haven’t touched upon all the problems and issues so, as always, your input is very welcome!

Amie and I picking flowers at Drumlin Farm

Mama and Amie picking dandelions

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers!

I was hugged and kissed a little more vigorously than usual this morning by Amie and Baba. It’s my second mother’s day, but the first time Amie could verbally congratulate me, and she did very well! It’s quite a mouthful. There was also a drawing by Amie and a blown-up picture of her.

I called up my Mom to wish her “Gelukkige Moederdag”. Yes, in Belgium too they celebrate Mother’s Day: a couple of years ago it had completely slipped my mind and the result was not pretty! And I so understand now!

Today we’re taking it easy: some playtime in the park, a walk to the Corner… But yesterday was the real Mother’s Day for me! 

Drumlin Farm visit

We visited Drumlin Farm, a whole group of us, lots of little kids, one bigger kid, and a gang of adventurous, upbeat grown-ups. The air was fresh, the sky sunny, the animals out and about, very vocal and mobile and many with offspring (kids, lambs, piglets, chicks). 

Sheep and Lamb at Drumlin Farm Rooster and chicken at Drumlin

“Sheeps,” Amie pointed out.

The fields looked deserted (weekend), but soon they will need all the help they can get to keep up with the growing season, and I still want to be a volunteer. I can’t wait to get my hands dirty!

No, distance, and secrets

Amie is celebrating a new-found sense of self and of freedom.

As part of her new attitude, she experiments with “NO”. She loves being contrary, but in a playful, not annoying mood. When you ask her to come to you, she’ll yell “Noh?” and run away. In  record time she puts quite a distance between herself and you, then she looks back, and if you are following her, she continues her escape. This would have been unheard of even a month ago, when we had to be within arm’s reach at all times.

Several times she has even pushed me away, saying “Mama don’t play”. And then there is “Mama go away.” She’s just testing out the idea of it, though, because if I oblige and leave the room, she will cry and run to me.

She also started whispering. When you look at her, trying to understand what she is whispering, she smiles and goes on muttering, relishing the fact that she is keeping the words to herself. There is real secretiveness there!

Luckily for us they are offset by more intense episodes of hugging and hanging-around-the-legs, and this amazing new verbal affection: “Amie loves Mama”, “Mama is nice”, “Baba needs a hug from Amie”. She also likes to observe: “Yes, you are right,” which is nice, but then again, “you” often still means “I”. So I’m not qutie sure what to make of that.

We are very comfortable and encouraging with these experiments of independence. They are a necessary stage in her emotional and cognitive development, and she needs to forge an identity that is separate from ours. I am happy though that she is doing it in a funny and charming way, without being too disruptive, without taking too much distance at once. So far.

Fearful

But no pain no gain. She also started grappling with a new nervousness, that I am sure is connected to her growing sense of one-ness and thus alone-ness. 

Until a month ago, Amie had been afraid only twice: of a particular glow-wormy doll, and of balloons when you make them squeek. Darkness, animals, noise, heights, the grotesque witch puppet who stands taller than her… none of these elicited anthing but interest or disinterest.

Now, however, when we’re inside the house and an airplane flies over rather noisily, or a car honks in the street or speeds past, or heaven forbids she hears a siren, she runs to me and asks to be picked up. Often she tells me: “Not be scared of the airplane” and hugs me closer.

She is most sensitive to sounds and especially machine-noises. The word “machine” is pronounced with awe. When she asks to go “see the machine,” I think she wants to know where it is, so she can keep an eye on it. Often, to console herself, she will say: “Machine can’t see Amie”. It’s quite heartbreaking.

More sociable

So this new fear only seems to extend to things, especially noisy machines. Her attitude towards people (other than her Baba and me) has undergone an opposite change.

She has had her share of stranger anxiety, and a long and terrible bout of it for months, up until very recently. Today she will shake the hand of a barely-remembered acquaintance without hesitation, say a very cordial “hi!” to a total stranger on the street, and after 5 minutes exchange imaginary flowers with them. After some hours of friendliness, the majority of our visitors is allowed to pick her up, and she’ll give them a hug (when asked).

She has also finally found happiness at daycare, this after several months of grief and back-to-square-one (mal)adjustment. She plays now, and laughs, and says hi to everyone. She lets me go without a whimper at drop-off and delays pick-up. Most relieving is the fact that she is no longer inordinately attached to the assistant, whom she adopted as my surrogate and monopolized for many months.

A Child’s Development

It is fascinating and bewildering to watch them grow and change. Keeping track and making sense of their emotional development is more tricky than tracking their progress with language, art, play, but they are all, of course, intricately related. And new layers are added everyday as they tackle new and old emotions and as, lcognitively, they become more “rational”.

I always say: I am part-mom and part-time observer.

Photograph of small farm on river bend

Book knowledge and experience 

As you all know, I’m putting together The Plan. It’s quite a Plan so quite a Task. Never one to spontaneously jump into the unknown, I feel I need to prepare thoroughly. Being an academic, the first thing I reach for is book knowledge. I’m reading up on biology, ecology, agriculture, husbandry, energy, construction, as well as education, culture and spirituality.

I’m also going to need experience, so I am going to sign up as a volunteer at Drumlin Farm, a Mass Audubon Sanctuary and working organic farm here in Lincoln, MA. Volunteers work primarily in the fields, but I’m sure they’ll let me observe with their animals.

Family history

There are no farmers in my family. My grandfather, at 85,  does some backyard gardening (tomatoes, wormy compost, fruit trees), but he started only after I left Belgium and to my shame I have never asked him about it. I remember visiting, as a very young child, one distant relative, long gone now. I remember pine needles on a sandy soil, the one skillet in their possession that he wouldn’t let his wife clean, and I think he kept bees (though that might be my current obsessions intruding on the memory). Suffice it to say that, when they find out about The Plan, my mom and dad will declare me crazy. Over a decade of university education and 2 Ph.D.s and you want to FARM!?

I will need to demonstrate or at least state to them (1) that we can do it, (2) that it makes economical sense, and (3) that it will make us (and especially Amie) happy. They will have to see this before they will believe it, and possibly, given their culture, they will never see or believe issue(3). But issues (1) and (2) are “objective” issues, and I want to get clear on the facts and numbers.

Some books

For now, I am reading two wonderful books:

Bookcover of Gaia’s Garden, by Toby Hemenway

Bookcover of A Handmade Life by Bill Coperthwaite

That’s already a well-rounded combination, I would say.

Chelsea Green Publishing

Both books are published by Chelsea Green. One look at their catalogue and you fall in love! Their motto is “The politics and practice of sustainable living,” and their titles reflect the broad range that it brings to mind:  from the reflective to the political to the practical.

At the moment I’m most attracted to the practical guidebooks (like Natural Beekeeping Organic Approaches to Modern Apiculture and Step By Step Knifemaking, enthusiastically subtitled “You Can Do It!”) and the theoretical titles, like David Holmgren’s Permaculture. Principles and Pathways Beyond Sustainability.

What I also like about Chelsea Green is that they aim to practice what they preach. Many of their books are printed on recycled paper, but they go further. They aspire to “Zero Waste Publishing,” which is quite a revolutionary idea in an industry that consumes so many trees (even if recycling). Check them out!

Photograph of small farm on river bend

  • Dreaming of moving out

I love this place, especially when summer comes around, as it finally has. The hustle and bustle of Coolidge Corner and Brookline Village, the treelined streets, the many large, grassy parks, the general friendliness of the community, oh and not to forget the two independent bookstores, one of them the Children’s Bookshop. Work/school/daycare are less than 3 miles away… Who could ask for more?

Still, I often dream of moving out. I dream of it constantly, now.

But where is “out”? What does it mean?

  • Peace and quiet

“Out” for me is, first of all, into a place where I can have some peace. I’ve become very sensitive – my senses have - to the small polluting ways of city life. All summer means to me, sometimes, is the surround sound of airconditioners: on and on they drone, while their owners aren’t even at home. Across the street, the engine of a parked car has been running for an hour now, to keep it cool inside. To top it all off, a leafblower starts up close by, filling the apartment with more noise and gasoline fumes…

Then it is hard for me to concentrate on the frolicking of the Red Cardinals in the bushes outside my window, and the beautiful narcissi bending in the breeze. I resort to terrible thoughts of vengeance. Like, last year I planted some wildflowers near our front door – one neighbor called them “weeds, all kinds of silliness”. Now they’re back: a neat row where I planted them, and all over the neighborhood! All those manicured lawns, overrun by weeds… Oops!

  • That panic pushes me

But all “silliness” and petty griping aside, the roots of my pain reach beyond mere aesthetics. All those wasteful habits are guzzling away our children’s futures, polluting the air and the silence, our bodies and our souls. I read the news on peak oil, global warming, bees getting lost… and I feel lost myself. I try to keep my panic under control: I want it to be practical, constructive, realistic, rational, reasonable.

But I am overwhelmed with the feeling that everything I am doing is useless. I can’t concentrate on my dissertation, which needs to be finished by May next year. Or on my freelance writing or the potboiler that is so much fun to put together. Or on the many other projects I have knocking about in my head and on my desk. None of them will make a difference that will count.

And the small things we’re doing to make a difference don’t add up to enough.

  • Cut and run

I would dearly like to make a difference here, make it work here. I don’t like running away; it seems like a defeat to me. And everyone (who is priviliged enough to be able to)running off to the country or the wilderness would just make matters worse. But I bump up against the limits of this place, this community, and they suffocate me. Not being allowed to compost, for instance, angers me. Every time we bring up renewable energy as an alternative to our oil-heating, we are ignored. Residents only think as far as they are planning to own their appartment: any “future investments” are up to their buyers.

I don’t get shrill (except here perhaps: is this shrill?). I’m not the assertive kind. I wish I were an activist, but I crumble in any kind of confrontational situation. I can’t make this place change. So I plan our escape. I count my blessings: easy access to information, an ability to do the research, and a husband who will one day, once I have enough information, arguments and confidence, understand the wisdom and the need to execute the plan.

  • A child’s role

Amie plays a large role in my “enlightenment,” which started to burn more brightly a couple of months ago. Yes, she is almost 2 years old. But it took me at least a year to get over the shock of motherhood, to settle back into the habit of sleep and a clear mind so I could think beyond tomorrow.

Also, the rapid development of her cognitive and language skills is forcing me to more articulateness, thoughtfulness, and accountability.

Because, one of these days, she is going to ask: Why?

I dread that day, and I dream of it with a passion. And I want to be ready.

  • The plan

So here’s the plan:

  1. to be self-sufficient for a large chunk of our food: grow vegetables, plant fruit trees, keep chickens and even goats, and even, even bees
  2. to be self-sufficient for at least some of the objects we use: furniture, toys, clothes, housing, electricity and heating…
  3. to be autonomous, self-regulating, responsible.
  4. to be skillful, handy, creative, flexible.
  5. to be confident and active after questioning, discerning, investigating (a never-ending process).
  6. to be a good stewart of what little of nature is under our “control”, and respectful of the rest.
  7. to be happy and joyful.

I thought it would be a long list, but this is really all I want. Is it so much to ask for? Is it so hard to get?

I and You

Amie is now in the habit of formulating descriptions of what she is doing as follows:

“Are you x-ing?”

She does this in imitation of our own (incessant) questions about and observations of what she is doing, and because she is struggling with the personal pronouns “you” and “I” and “me”. Once in a while she will use ”I,” as in “I know” and “I see,” but these are stock phrases and I doubt she is really getting it there. 

We are trying to teach her about the relativity of the personal pronoun, in 4 ways:

  1. First of all, we’re trying hard to wean ourselves off the proper names, off saying, of myself, “Mama hurt herself!” or, to Amie, “Did Amie hurt herself”? It’s tougher than you would think. Strange, because it’s not like we started talking like this to one another or to other adults! Still, when talking with Amie, we revert back to it if we don’t make an effort to be conscious of it.
  2. What helps us, and maybe her too, is to emphatically point to ourselves when saying “I”, and to the addressee (mostly her) when saying “you”.
  3. Each time she uses “you” for “I,” we tell her gently: “Amie should say: ‘I am writing.’ Can you say it?” Then she repeats it, correctly, and we praise her. This works best with requests: “Amie should say: ‘Can you pick me up’. Can you say it?”
  4. When correcting her, if possible, we take her hand and make her point to herself while stressing the ”I” or “me”.

An embarassing example

In any case, we were looking through the board books at the (crowded) library today, and I can see that Amie is pooping. She sees me seeing this and pronounces, loud and clear:

“Are you pooping?”

Of course she meant “I am pooping.” But no doubt every child and parent in the room took it quite literally! What could I say, but: “Shh, Amie, we have to be quiet in the library!”

It’s time to set those personal pronouns straight, don’t you think?

(Then we nearly clogged a toilet with the g-diaper!)

Amie’s airplanes drawing of 29 April 2007

I’ve added two more articles on the development of Amie’s drawings, the last one (no. 4 in the series) finally relating the “Breakthrough” I posted on earlier.

Here are all the installments so far:

  1. First Drawings of a Very Young Child: Amie at 16 months
  2. Circles, and Coloring Books (a Mistake?): Amie at 18 months
  3. NEW More Circles, Graphs, and post hoc naming: Amie at 18-19 months
  4. NEW Naming and Representation: Amie at 20 months

Also, don’t miss the growing list of Tips and Resources for Drawing with Very Young Children.

Compost Dreams Dashed

The vote is in and it’s a veto: the majority of the Trustees of our condominium have said no to our composting bin idea.

The first one was personally against it, the second one would dearly like to do it herself, but she knew many other residents would revolt. The third and last Trustee, well: that’s me.

It is true, we are already having trouble getting some to recycle their paper! Many others won’t even want to be educated on the topic. Also, we are composting neophytes, and there’s more than a chance that we will have stinky bin within a month of starting it.

So that got me dreaming about this place:

Photograph of small farm on river bend

I don’t remember where I got the photograph (looks like a newspaper), and I don’t know where it was taken, but it’s somewhere in Europe, possibly Belgium.

Wouldn’t you want to live there (I don’t mean in Europe, but on this farm)?

I’d be afraid Amie would fall into the river though… One more reason to teach her how to swim!

The Baby Tote

When I was pregnant with Amie, I often amused myself thinking up all kinds of ways to make the pregnancy easier on us.

For instance, later on in our pregnancies, when the weight begins to pull our spines out of allignment and our back muscles out of shape, when all those vital organs need to start moving over, and when any kind of comfortable sleep position becomes impossible… wouldn’t it be great if we could just whip out the uterus and stick it into a bag? 

I am thinking an ergonomical backpack, with handy sidepockets, but for the more fashion-conscious it could be an elegant totebag, and an Italian leather briefcase for the businesstype. Once our babies get really heavy, we could bring in little carts or carry-ons… We would take it with us wherever we go (of course), keep it in our laps while having lunch, stash it underneath our desks while working. And this is the clincher: at night, we could just park it underneath the bed!

Ok, I don’t know how it would work physically. I mean: what would giving birth be like? In any case, I think it’s one of my brighter ideas and I’ve suggested it to Nature, and hopefully she has passed it on to Evolution. Women (maybe even men) of the distant future, you’re welcome!

The Fetus Fone

Another innovation was the Fetus Fone. In all honesty, I think I have to credit Amie with that idea. I made a little comic about it at the time:

Comic of Fetus calling Mama

If I had to choose, I would opt for the phone. Not for the fresh insights on Kant and the nature of space and time, but because of the only scary moment in my pregnancy.

One blistering hot summer morning  in the eigth month I rushed into my midwife’s practice, barely on time (I abhor being late; it stresses me out). When the midwife put the Doppler against my swollen belly, even I realized Amie’s heart rate was way too high. The midwife asked me if I had drunk any water yet, andI admitted I hadn’t. Five minutes after I sipped some icewater, Amie had calmed down.

All she wanted was a sip of water!

A Fetus Fone would have saved all of us a great deal of worry. I think I might take a patent on the idea (hey, people are trying to patent turmeric!), and I’d better also reserve the Fetus Fone TM, and the domain.

Gotto go, got work to do…