What AP is NOT submitted by Kelly Coyle DiNorcia

In anticipation of next week's open house, I sent out about a million (give or take) press releases and brochures to local papers, radio stations, magazines, and practitioners. One of them was my own pediatrician. Imagine my surprise when I went in for a visit today and there was my letter and brochure, clipped to my son's chart. I should have known that she would never post anything in her office about an organization that she didn't thoroughly research and support.

Tell me what this is all about, she said.

I was totally caught off guard and not having my best day in general, so I definitely wasn't in PR mode. I blathered something incoherent about co-sleeping, or maybe breastfeeding, and mentioned positive discipline.

No, I mean give me an example of something a child might do and how you might handle it, she said, cutting to the chase.

I couldn't really think of anything, so she began to talk about how kids today "don't know how to act". From what I could gather, she shares one of the most common misconceptions about AP, which is that AP equals letting kids do whatever they want, wherever they want, whenever they want.

On the API website there is a blog post by Dr. Lawrence Cohen, author of one of my all-time favorite parenting books, Playful Parenting. He discusses some of the most common difficulties that attached parents run into, such as aggressiveness, defiance and oversensitivity between the ages of 2 and 4. He assures parents that this does not mean that they are doing it wrong, or that AP is wrong, but that every approach has its drawbacks and these are the common "itches" (his word) associated with AP.

So, back to Dr. B - she said that as much as she loves kids (and she does, she's a wonderful woman and amazingly compassionate physician) she asks not to be seated near them when she goes out to eat, because kids don't know how to act in restaurants. Now, most of the advice she's given me has been in line with the principles of AP, so I'd find it difficult to believe that she expects young kids to sit quietly for an hour or two in a restaurant listening to adult conversation, but for the sake of argument, let's say she does. Clearly, it is more pleasant to dine with a three-year-old who acts that way than it is to dine with, say, MY three-year-old. If I were out for a rare adults-only dinner, I wouldn't want to sit by a three-year-old either. I've been out to eat where the child at the table next to us was literally throwing glasses and plates off the table, smashing them on the floor, and the parents did nothing to stop the behavior. True story. I would argue that it isn't the child who doesn't know how to behave in that case, but the adult, but that's besides the point.

The question remains, is it that my three-year-old doesn't know how to act in restaurants, or is it that we, as a culture, have unreasonable expectations of three-year-olds in restaurants? Is it realistic to expect her to sit quietly in a chair for an hour or so? Or should we choose our dining establishments more carefully, or plan more thoroughly, or maybe forgo public eateries for a few years?

To get back to the point - AP is not permissive parenting. Kids need limits. Hitting: not okay. Biting: not okay. Running in the street: definitely not okay. Smashing plates on the floor: we're leaving, after we pay the manager for the broken dinnerware. What I tried, with very minimal success, to explain to Dr. B is that it's not about anything goes parenting, because we all (or we all should) have rules. It's about how we get our kids to comply with rules. Do they comply because they're afraid of what we'll do to them if they don't? If so, that's not AP. Do they comply because they are aware of natural consequences? Maybe AP. Do they comply because they have a respectful relationship with you, the parent, and as such wish to maintain the give-and-take that such a relationship entails? BINGO!

Embracing My Imperfections submitted by Kelly Coyle DiNorcia

It's been a long week. The grind of caring for an infant is starting to wear on me - as much as I enjoy it, the constant carrying and nursing and diapering and nursing and waking is exhausting. Bess has recently taken to throwing knock-down, drag-out temper tantrums, often more than once a day. John was away for most of the weekend working. The rain kept us home, all together in our little house, trying to find things to do to pass the dreary day.

Last night I welcomed bath time, as it signaled the end of a long, long day. I put Harry in the sink, hoping that he would enjoy playing in the water for awhile so that I could enjoy a rest from carrying an extra sixteen pounds. Bess decided she wanted to "help", which really means she wants to splash water all over the place, including Harry's face, and blow bubbles in the air. Normally, I try to take this type of opportunity to teach her how to be gentle with her brother, let her make all the mess she wants (it's only water, after all) and then help her clean it up before it's time for her to hit the tub. Last night, I just didn't have it in me to deal.

Normally, I would try to ignore my growing impatience and overcome the urge to scream until, finally, I would blow my top and lose it, and then feel guilty about it for the next three days, beating myself up for failing to be a good mother.

I wonder where Bess' tantrum inclination comes from?

Yesterday, I tried something different. I said, "Bess, Mommy is feeling very anxious and agitated right now, and I'm having a hard time being patient. Would it be okay if I just gave Harry a bath without your help, and then you can play all you want in the tub when it's time for your bath?"

She agreed and went into the other room to pick her pajamas and bedtime stories.

Why is this so revolutionary for me? Seems pretty obvious, really. But it wasn't, at least to me. It took courage for me to say it out loud: I am not a perfect mother. I am losing my patience and will probably start yelling and saying things I'd rather not say pretty soon. Right now, my need for a little quiet and order is more important than my daughter's need to explore her environment and feel a part of what is going on in our house. I'm only human, and there's only so much I can take!

I am trying to teach my spirited daughter to manage her intensity by recognizing her meltdown cues before it becomes completely unmanageable for her. I have taught her to take a "time-out" when she needs some quiet time to calm down. We have a magic word she can use to ask for my help when she feels that she's losing control of herself. I have counseled her to use words instead of hands (feet, fists, teeth, shoes, rocks....) when she is frustrated and someone is invading her physical or mental space. We are working on taking deep breaths to regain our center when we are feeling out of balance - or screaming hysterically. But maybe, by admitting my weakness, I am really giving my daughter the strength to manage her emotions instead of letting them manage her?

My Family Bed submitted by Kelly Coyle DiNorcia

6:30 pm - We begin "the launch sequence". Hubby takes 3yo DD and gives her a bath in the tub, I take 4mo DS and bathe him in the kitchen sink.

7:00 pm - We take turns at the changing table getting kiddos into jammies.

7:05 pm - I nurse baby to sleep and lie next to him, reading by booklight.

7:10 pm - Hubby reads daughter a book in the living room, three times, and then brings her to bed.

7:23 pm - Two labrador retrievers (combined weight 124 pounds) and two cats join us.

7:27 pm - Daughter decides to jump on the bed. Baby wakes up. I nurse him back to sleep as hubby tries to get daughter to sit still.

7:31 pm - Daughter decides she wants to sleep *ON* Daddy. Lies down.

7:33 pm - "Stop fidgeting."

7:34 pm - "Please stop fidgeting."

7:36 pm - "If you don't stop fidgeting you can't lay on me."

7:37 pm - "STOP MOVING."

7:46 pm - Daughter falls asleep.

7:49 pm - I start the water to take a nice, warm, relaxing shower after a long day.

7:51 pm - Baby wakes up crying.

7:52 pm - Get out of shower, dry off and crawl back into bed to nurse baby back to sleep.

8:03 pm - Consider having an adult conversation with hubby. Choose sleep instead.

9:12 pm - Phone rings. Ignore it.

10:24 pm - Daughter kicks me in the head. Dog has to go out.

11:40 pm - Wake up to use the bathroom. Other dog has to go out.

12:07 am - Baby wakes up. Daughter wakes up and says, "Mommy, can you please feed that baby. I can't sleep with him crying like that," rolls over, and goes back to sleep. Nurse baby back to sleep.

1:56 am - Wake up because electricity is out. Hubby gets up to call power company. Both dogs have to go out. Call them to come back in, but I can't see them in the dark and they are ignoring me. Baby wakes up because I'm not next to him. Nurse baby back to sleep.

2:09 am - Hubby comes back to bed with dogs. Daughter rolls over and snuggles against me, pinning me between her and baby. I begin to notice a dull ache in my left shoulder.

2:22 am - Power comes back on. Baby is restless; lay him on my chest and go back to sleep. I need to use the bathroom, but decide that emptying my bladder is not worth the risk.

3:01 am - Cats decide to have a wrestling match on the bed. Kick them out of the bedroom. Tell dogs to go lay down.

4:07 am - Baby becomes restless. Morning nurse-a-thon begins.

5:19 am - Baby finishes nursing. Laughs and gurgles. Heart melts. Hubby gets up with baby & dog, and dog #2 and I snuggle under the covers hoping for another hour of sleep, sweet sleep before daughter wakes.

6:46 am - Daughter wakes. Rolls over and says, "Mommy, you know what? I love you. Can we snuggle for a little?"

Priceless.

Cry Like a Baby? submitted by Kelly Coyle DiNorcia

I have a wonderful, amazing, loving young college student who comes to play with my kids a day or two a week so I can get some work done. Today she made an interesting comment to me: "Harry [my four-month-old baby] never cries when you're holding him, does he?"

Well....no. Duh.

But really, is it so obvious? I have had people comment frequently to me that they never hear a peep out of him. Is it because he's so laid-back? It makes me wonder - why *DO* babies cry?

A quick Google search reveals many reasons that "experts" have identified for crying. Hunger, dirty diaper, fatigue, boredom, pain or discomfort, need for contact. However, the fact that I wear my baby - meaning that I carry him pretty much all the time, what is affectionately called "baby as accessory" in my house - pretty much eliminates the need for crying for these reasons. I recognize his hunger signals and allow him to nurse before he needs to cry. I am aware when he soils his diaper and quickly change it. If he's tired, he's quickly lulled to sleep by my constant movement. He is rarely bored because he's with me all the time, watching what I do and learning all about the world. If there was cause for him to be uncomfortable or in pain, I'd know it - I'd be hot or cold too, or I would have noticed if something happened to him. And his need for contact is being satisfied, as well as my need to get things done and my desire for some quiet time.

Worn babies cry less, it stands to reason. Of course, some babies do not like to be worn - not everyone likes that much contact. And babywearing is impractical for some parents, such as those with physical challenges. But the arguments against babywearing - that babies will fail to develop physically or be "spoiled", somehow damaged, by being held just don't make sense. Adjusting to the constant movements of their caretaker, worn babies develop good muscle tone; in fact, in indigenous cultures where babies are routinely worn, they frequently show exceptional motor development. And research has shown that babies who cry release stress hormones in their bodies, and this is not necessarily good for them. If we can find a way to eliminate, or at least alleviate, stress on their tiny little bodies, that can't be a bad thing, can it?