Self-soothing - no thanks!

I was once asked if we'd taught our child to "self-soothe." I was shocked, to say the least. Why on earth would a responsible parent not want to calm their child if he or she was distressed?

Of course, the answer is simple. As with a lot of other things in parenting, it's a question of whether the child comes first, or the parent. Soothing your crying child means that you have to give up whatever else you are doing and actually pay attention to the kid. I know, I'm being a little over-the-top cynical, but can you blame me?

A baby, infant or toddler, in my not remotely expert opinion, does not need to learn to soothe themself. In fact, what they need to learn, is that their parents are people they can trust, people who love and care for them, and are there to help them along the way. They need to learn that when they want or need a parent, that parent can and will be there for them.

Independence is something that has to be based on a solid foundation. A secure foundation. And as a parent, you provide that secure foundation by being there for your child. You give them a base from which they can grow. When your child cries, and needs your help or attention, give it to them. When your toddler wants you to sing him or her to sleep do it. "Cry It Out" is not a solution for the child, it's a solution for the parent. You can get on with your own life, and enough so-called experts have rallied to the cause so as to ensure that you feel very little guilt in the process.

Your mileage may vary, but we have made it a point right from the day our daughter was born to be there when she cried. During the day, and during the night. Whenever she wants or needs us, we're there for her.

The end result? She is now two and a half and rarely cries. In fact, she has never been a crier. She knows that when she wants or needs her parents, they will be right there by her side. And because of that, she's secure enough to live her little life. One of us has put her to bed and sang or storied her to sleep every night of her life. She slept through the night somewhere around 8 weeks and has never looked back. We're supremely confident that we're raising a happy, well-adjusted toddler who has a grip on her emotions by virtue of never having had to "self-soothe."

What do I think would have happened had we gone the self-soothing route? We'd have taught our daughter that other people, notably her parents, will not be there for her, and right from birth she has to deal with everything herself.

Some people call this independence. It's not. It's insularity. There's a massive difference. And we'll stake our mortgage on doing it our way, every time.

Toddler socialization - give me a break!

The other day I was talking to some friends, and they mentioned that they were putting their one year old into school (they called it that, rather than day care) because they felt it was essential that she "be socialized."

I'm still aghast at the thought, leave alone the fact that the notion of someone "being socialized" sounds rather disturbing.

Sure, it's not my place to judge, but I cannot for the life of me figure out the logic. I've heard a lot of explanations for why people think it's imperative to put their child in day care. For the most part (again, excluding situations borne out of necessity) it involves an unabashed desire for both parents to put themselves first, rather than their child. "I need to get my career going," or "we can't afford to keep the second home if I don't work." Note that these justifications don't even mention the child. But at least they're being honest about it.

It seems though, that people are now trying harder to rationalize their decision by defining the benefit that supposedly accrues to their toddler. "Socialization" is all the rage, and I'm told quite often that without day care, toddlers won't learn to play with other kids and be around other people.

Excuse me? Is it really not possible for your toddler to encounter other people, children and adults, without you having to palm them off on someone else for a few hours a day so that you can relax?

Playdates? The park? Libraries? Museums? The toddler gym? The YMCA? Your local swimming pool? Your neighbour? Your friends? There are more options than excuses, that's for sure.

Of course a toddler needs to be exposed to other people, and to learn how to interact with them. It's part of being a human being. It's just facetious to suggest that day care is either the best or the only way to achieve that. It's neither.

I know when I try too hard to rationalize something it's usually because I'm not secure in my own decision and I'm trying to justify it for myself - is that what's going on here? Am I really way off base? Do people genuinely feel that the only way your toddler can learn to interact with others is by going to day care?

I'm reminded of another toddler I know who started in day care very early. Both his parents worked, and felt that day care was going to help socialize their son. Before long, they were proudly telling people how their child loved day care so much, and was so well socialized, that he didn't even want to come home with them when they went to pick him up.

Think about that for a minute.

MFP (Most Favoured Parent) status

I read an article in Parenting magazine a few weeks ago, in which a father commented on how his kids wanted little to do with him, and certainly had no interest in listening to him, when their mother was at home. And yet, he asserted, when their mother was away, daddy was all that and more.

Ironic, I thought, because in our house, the exact opposite has proven true of late. I'm currently the proud owner of Most Favoured Parent (MFP) status, although I am acutely aware that the status may be rescinded by the bestower at any time, and without the courtesy of advance notice.

The interesting question, apart from the thorny issue of whether or not this really matters in the grand scheme of things, is whether we as parents have aided and abetted the situation.

Our daughter spends virtually all day, Monday to Friday, with her mother. I usually walk in the door while the two of them are preparing dinner, greeted by an excited apron-clad two year old. And that's when I take over. She's mine till she falls asleep in her "big girl bed," and we both treasure every minute of it. When she wakes up in the morning, after chattering to herself and the other occupants of her bed(room), it's daddy she wants. Breakfast with daddy, and only once daddy goes to work is the spell broken. Weekends are daddy-days, for the most part.

It's a vicious or virtuous cycle, depending on your perspective. I wish I could spend *more* time with my daughter, and yet in doing so, I seem to have created a situation in which mummy is marginalised in my presence. Another blow for equality in this world, eh?

The cliched conclusion is one about spending every precious moment with your children and all that good stuff. All true, but the real answer is that we simply shouldn't take any of it personally as parents, and it's not a competition between us. Lord knows we have enough to do to compete with all the other perfect parents out there!

I'm only MFP while I'm the goofball who shows up on evenings and weekends. The fragility of that status was exposed when I foolishly attempted to wash a grape before serving it to my daughter the other day. MFP + H2O = Dr Evil.

What's in a name?

I come home from work every evening, always in time for dinner with my wife and daughter. Sometimes after a long day, sometimes in the middle of a day that has yet to run it's course. Come rain or shine, whether I bound in energetically or drag myself over the doorstep, I'm greeted by the sound of running footsteps, a huge grin and a squeal of "Daddy came home!" Well, the verbal part has evolved - nowadays it's more like "Look, there's daddy but it's dark in the garage so we better switch on the light so the cars can see properly!"

There's nothing I love more in my life than being a father to my daughter. And the simple fact of the matter is that I'm opinionated. Especially when it comes to the art of parenting. Even though I get a lot wrong, I get a lot right. Or so I think. Ego therefore mandates that I share my opinions with the world, regardless of whether anyone reads them.

Many will disagree, some may actually agree. Heck, one or two may agree with me regularly. To each his (or her) own.

Let's see how long I can keep this up.