Derision and Scorn: How Time Dropped the Ball on Attachment Parenting
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What comes to mind when you think attachment parenting?
Perhaps you envision a young, lithe, white woman, standing in bold contrapposto, staring unapologetically into the camera, her nearly four-year-old perched on a chair, hanging somewhat awkwardly from her one perfectly exposed breast, also staring - though less boldly, and more confusedly - into the same camera?
It isn't what would come to my mind, nor, likely most parents who practice attachment parenting.
But, with that very image, accompanied by a purposefully provocational headline and subtext, Time Magazine would like to convey the message that this pose/interaction (whether breastfeeding, breastfeeding an "older child", breastfeeding without cover, or perhaps, simply, a woman staring unabashedly at the viewer) is extreme (which, extreme, it's not. Perhaps, in 1863, when Edouard Manet first shocked the world by painting a bare-breasted woman staring unrepentantly at the viewer, "extreme" might be a suitable description, but in 2012, when sexualized breasts are the advertising norm, no),
that it represents attachment parenting (which, considering how deliberately unengaged the two are in this photograph, it doesn't), and/or, that breastfeeding is the epitome of being "mom enough" (which, a child fed and clothed - all that's represented without dispute in this image - may be indicative of mom enough, but, I'd argue being a mom - a PARENT - takes far more than open mouth, insert milk; and the last time I checked, parenting wasn't a contest - at least not to anyone other than the media). In other words (through all my parenthesis) Time failed miserably with this cover.
In truth, the only thing Time managed to do with this photograph, was to present a lovely woman with her cherubic child in an awkwardly stylized pose; slap an outlandish headline on the front which practically screams for people to get up in arms about - take your pick: attachment parenting, nudity, breastfeeding, mommy wars - and sell lots of copies of an otherwise less-than-unbiased and far-less-than thorough news magazine gossip rag.
Certainly Time wasn't going for normalizing breastfeeding - which, could have served mothers and children everywhere. I say certainly, as, if that HAD been their intent, they would have chosen the alternate photograph for the cover - same mother and child, in a far more natural, comforting pose. With THAT photograph, they could have showed how breastfeeding is as much about nurturing as it is about nutrition, and that gentle, loving touch between mother and child doesn't have to end simply because a child is able to walk, talk, and get themselves dressed. They COULD have chosen an image that didn't reinforce the confounding and insidious public belief that breastfeeding beyond infancy, or exposing breasts for breastfeeding at all, is somehow sexual. They could have taken the road less travelled. Instead, they followed the path of least resistance: sex and shock value sells.
Look, Time wasn't attempting to bring any real understanding of attachment parenting. If THAT had been their intent, certainly such martyr-esque language as was used to describe one featured attached parent would've been left behind in editing. Case in point:
"[Joanne & her partner] ended much of their social life when they became parents. There are no date nights. Joanne doesn't get away for afternoons to have lunch with her girlfriends. In fact, the only time Joanne has ever left either of her children in anyone else's care was when she was in labor with her second child.... the child-rearing philosophy Joanne subscribes to, It's called attachment parenting ... a style that's more about parental devotion and sacrifice than about raising self-sufficient kids. ... Attachment-parenting dogma also says that every baby's whimper is a plea for help and that no infant should ever be left to cry."
In fact, the accompanying article (The Man Who Remade Motherhood) was positively fraught with blatently obvious stereotypes, judgments, and purposeful overstatements:
"…for months, Beauregard sat on the couch in her Denver-area living room, nursing her infant from sunup to sundown"
(ALL that BREASTFEEDING - can you even IMAGINE? Oh, the OPPRESSION!) - and -
"So is attachment parenting a misogynist plot to take women out of the workplace and put them back in the home full time?"
(yes, yes, responding with empathy and gentleness to your infant is a "misogynist plot". But wait, where does it say only women may attachment parent, or that women must not work, or must breastfeed in order to attachment parent? That's right, nowhere. One wonders, after reading this article, if the author did any research but for the most cursory Google search on "Attachment Parenting" before writing.)
I can't help but believe Time's sole intent was pure derision and scorn of an already beleaguered and misunderstood method of parenting.
I praise Jamie Lynne Grumet, Dionna Ford, Jessica Cary, and Melinda Larson for taking such a brave step towards bringing greater understanding and acceptance to attachment parenting and extended breastfeeding. In all, it's terribly sad that Time missed a grand opportunity to present to its wide audience a nurturing, loving, gentle way of relating to children. By miring breastfeeding and attachment parenting in phony controversy and manufactured scandal, they really dropped the ball.
The Things You Learn Along the Way
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In the last nearly eight years, I’d like to think I’ve learned a bit about parenting – and about myself in the process. I thought I’d share just a few of the things I’ve discovered along the way…
All that STUFF you thought you needed (or, that everyone ELSE thought you needed) for your baby? You didn’t need it. All babies really need is milk and love. The rest is just gravy (Um, vegetarian gravy, of course. Duh.). That said, all that stuff DOES make for a darned good yard sale down the line.
Patience is a virtue. It’s also incredibly hard to come by at times. You need to keep practicing it – ALL. THE. TIME. And you need to have ways to access it 24/7 - because neither kids’ feet nor their mouths stop moving until they are asleep (and even then, it’s not a guarantee), and they expect – and DESERVE – peaceful, creative responses and guidance to their (endless) questions and boundary pushing. On the upside, I’ve found my greatly developed sense of patience has extended into my relationships OUTSIDE of parenting. Win – win.
Parenting doesn’t “get easier” as time goes by, like everyone tries to tell you when you have a new baby. Yes, baby eventually stops waking you at night (easier), but then starts getting up by himself, and learns how to unlock the gate to downstairs – silently (not easier). Toddler stop wearing diapers (easier), and then wants to use Every. Single. Public. Toilet. Everywhere. (not easier) Preschooler, who used to be okay with “simple explanations” for where babies come from – like, “Mommies have eggs & Daddies fertilize the eggs, and Mommies’ eggs grow into babies in their wombs” (easier) – now, as a 2nd grader, would like to know: “okay, but HOW EXACTLY do Daddies fertilize the eggs???” (Um… NOT. EASIER.) It gets more complex, and more challenging as it goes along.
Actually, let me continue with potty training for a moment. Potty learning isn’t an instantaneous process, no matter what the books tell you. The diapers don’t suddenly get put away, and middle-of-the-night sheet changes become a distant memory; even if you used elimination communication or your kid “got it” right away. No matter what the process, it’s a long process, and you WILL hear “Mom! Can you wipe me!?!” echoing through your rooms for quite some time after the last diaper is gone. Just… don’t put the wipes away just yet.
You are always “on”, AND it isn’t all about you. This may be the biggest change that came with parenting: realizing that life isn’t just about me anymore, or even about me and my partner (who can take care of himself). When you’re a parent, another person suddenly arrives, completely, entirely, dependent on you – for sustenance, shelter, clothing, guidance, education, discipline, entertainment, love. And when they need you, they NEED you – like NOW. When you’re sick, you’re on. When you’re tired, you’re on. When you’ve worked a whole day at the office and would love to just come home and put your feet up, you’re on. And every decision from here on out NO LONGER just involves what you (or your partner) would like to do or need – there is always another person to consider. Which, by the way is NOTHING like owning a pet (those people who tell you having a pet is good preparation for a baby? I can’t remember the last time I had to sleep sitting up with a sick cat in my lap who has thrown up every half hour through the night and gone through every single piece of clean linen – towels, sheets, dishcloths – in the house, only to finally fall asleep and wake up with the next cat sick with the same thing, followed by being sick yourself… yeah. Pets aren’t kids.). You’re on and never off, never ever, not for the next 20 years or so (at which point, I’m told, you’re still not off – you’re just in pause mode – waiting for the phone to ring).
People will judge you. And you will judge yourself. In the store, on the internet, in books, in magazines, your friends, your family, doctors, strangers – everyone. Everyone will have a say, an opinion, and often, a criticism. So you have to learn to take everything you hear with a grain of salt, but mostly, TRUST YOURSELF - because YOU are your child’s best advocate; you know your own child – and your own family – BEST.
Parenting gets more fun as it goes on. Yes, this may seem to contradict what I just said about not getting easier; but it’s not. It’s just… the prize that comes with a greater challenge. As the conversations with older kids become more challenging, they also become more interesting! You don’t have to read The Hungry Caterpillar forty times anymore, you can actually read Harry Potter together – and you ALL enjoy it! You get to share and relive the movies of your childhood – Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, The Dark Crystal, E.T., with your kids. You don’t have to haul the stroller around anymore – they can WALK… AND they LIKE it! In fact, you can start back up doing the things you may have put to the side when they were born – hiking, painting, gardening – and they participate WITH you. It’s amazing fun to share your passions with your kids when they can really get into it! And, my personal favorite fun-boost that has come with age? TRAVEL! It is SO. MUCH. FUN. Travelling and exploring with kids who are old enough to appreciate and understand where they’re going, what they’re looking at, and who don’t need to nap any longer (and who can carry their own backpacks – WIN!), is like the pinnacle of parenting. I LOVE travelling with our kids & know it will only get better and better with age!
(Travelling with our kids - now, doesn't that look FUN!)
And finally… I’ve learned that love is endless. You have boundless love for your children. It comes from somewhere so deep and bottomless, that it keeps flowing, multiplying, and surrounding all of your children – no matter how many you have. No matter how many crumbs you clean out of your keyboard, no matter how much pee on the bed or juice on the carpet you have to clean. You will love and love. It’s one of the most amazing things to me – when I feel like I’m at the bottom of my barrel – my patience low, I’m underslept, out of energy, uncreative, children bickering on and off all day, and I haven’t had a moment to myself… somewhere, the warmth of love comes over me when I look at the curl across my son’s forehead or hear my daughter reading a book to us. I can forgive myself and them – love keeps us going, builds us up, brings us closer together. Above everything, the ability to love deeply and without condition is probably the best and most lasting thing I’ve learned as a parent. All you need is love, and with kids – they take it and give it willingly. It’s amazing.
So… what have YOU learned as a parent?
Love Our Children, Love Ourselves
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Do you tell your children that you're beautiful?
That's not a typo.
Really, do you ever say to your kids, "I think I'm beautiful" or "I love myself" or "I'm smart"? (And not sarcastically, either.)
We all tell our children "You're beautiful!"; of course we do. It's natural, it flows, and of course, they ARE beautiful --- they're our kids. We probably even say it often (maybe more often, even, than they like to hear). But, do your children know that you think YOU are awesome, too? How often do you say it?
If you're like me (prior to me reading this post, anyhow) it probably isn't very often. In fact, though I do love myself, I'm not sure I've told my kids that. I'm not sure they really KNOW that.
Why?
I don't know. Maybe it's just kind of weird, right? It's a strange feeling to say, "I'm Beautiful". It feels, somehow… self-absorbed? Silly? Disingenuous?
I think we're taught as women, that we're supposed to LOOK beautiful, but, to praise ourselves… that's a no, no. And then, even when we do look beautiful, I'm not sure we - any of us - really believe we're beautiful. And, I don't mean only how we physically look; I mean how we feel: that we're comfortable in our skin, that we love who we are - who we've become, that we enjoy being with ourselves. That we believe we ARE beautiful - in and out.
We want our children to have a good, strong sense of self-worth. We think simply telling them, "you're smart" or "you're talented" or "you're beautiful" is the way to do this. Lots of praise, and they're good, right? Well, while it feels good to say those things, and while they're true, still, it's an outsider's point of view. Our opinion of our children… it's still someone else's opinion. What they BELIEVE about themselves is what's most important.
And how do they learn what to believe? It isn't so much about what we TELL them about themselves (though, that's important, too!). It's what they see, watching us. Listening to us. Our children watch our every move: how we act, how we say what we say. They're paying attention to everything: how we look at ourselves critically in the mirror, maybe how we frown at the scale or sigh when we try to button our jeans - and they're learning how to feel about themselves by watching how we feel about ourselves.
Our children may know from our words that we love them, but how do they know it's okay to really love themselves, if they never hear nor see us loving ourselves?
So, back to my original question: Do you tell your children that you're beautiful? I haven't, really. But from now on, I'm making it a point to let my kids know I not only think they're awesome, but that I think I'M awesome, too.
Thank you to Wendy Irene @ Give Love Create Happiness for the inspiration for this post.
Image sources: Pinterest
The journey. The tantrum. The reboot.
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It usually starts small, the tantrum. A child’s desire – often seemingly ridiculous by adult standards: must wear two socks at once; must brush one’s teeth by oneself, completely; must screw off the lid of the toothpaste and apply (read: blob, smear, ooze, dribble) toothpaste to the toothbrush (and sink and hair) by oneself; must retrieve and put on (or not) pull-up and jammies in exactly the precise way – resisted or redirected, or ignored, because they seem silly to us, or time-wasting, or aggravating. And this resistance resistance/redirection is met with a pout, a kick, an unkind word. To which we adults respond with incredulity or insistence or more resistance. Why are they doing what they’re doing? Why are they escalating? What happened?
We direct, they resist. We push, they push back. We are focusing on the destination. They are focused on the journey.
At its core, a tantrum is a need unmet: a child trying to express something right that isn’t quite right – maybe they are coming down with a cold, maybe a sibling took something from them earlier without asking, maybe they need your attention and you’ve been busy with your own tasks, maybe they are sensing the hectic nature of a very busy day and need to slow down, maybe they’re frustrated about not being able to reach/tighten/loosen/tie/fit something somewhere but they don’t have the words to express what they’re feeling, or maybe even if they did, they don’t really understand what they’re feeling because… they are new to this whole human thing. And then, just when they’re feeling the most vulnerable or confused or frustrated and trying to communicate these new feelings, the people they’re trying to communicate with – us adults – we’re shutting down the expression, because we’re exhausted, or have things to do, or we’re just trying to get to that end point (get to school, get grocery shopping finished, get to bed). Enter tantrum: an explosion of expression that’s been brewing, needs ignored, feelings contained or misunderstood. Boom.
You know, I think most parents, and kids, just want things to flow smoothly – I think it’s in our human nature. Because, ideally, working together feels good. Harmony feels right. Getting to where we’re going peacefully is awesome. But in reality, well, while my kids and I may move along in generally the same direction, but we’re not always on the same page in terms of smoothness of travel. The kid side of our parent-kid pair might be able to see the objective, might even recognize the importance of it (or my own perceived and conveyed importance of it), but it’s in their nature to resist it – because honestly, who wants to be told what to do or how to think, especially when it doesn’t seem very fun?
Take bedtime for example. I’m saying: Okay, let’s get your teeth brushed, let’s take a bath, let’s get your jammies on! But they’re hearing: stop having fun, and so… they resist. And we push. And they push back. Maybe bedtime isn’t what they want, or, maybe they just want something else at the moment, or maybe they feel something else in the moment (those unmet needs & unexpressed feelings, remember: jealousy or frustration or illness coming on), and to them, in the moment, that destination you’re pushing towards, it just doesn’t matter. If they don’t feel good NOW – that’s all that matters, and they respond to and express those feelings in the now. Loudly. Forcefully. Smooth travels be damned.
I know in some ways, they’re on to something – living in the now, appreciating the awesomeness of every moment, loving that smooth trip would be ideal, right? But wow, it’s hard sometimes. It’s hard to ease up on the things we think we should be doing (getting to bed on time, cleaning up after each activity), whilst encouraging the things that need to be done (getting up & dressed for school), and keeping cool, calm, and fun (all without losing ourselves along the way) in the process – particularly when we’re being yelled at or random toys are being thrown in our general direction. But, process, the now, the path, the way, the journey, the flow… they are right. That is the most important part; the end goal can be awesome too, but if you’re not enjoying yourself along the way...
Anyhow, back to tantrums. Last night was particularly challenging in terms of me trying to get smoothly to our desired destination (a reasonable bedtime) and my children resisting. Suffice it to say on tantrum number three of the evening, at I’m-not-admitting-to-how-late-it-was o’clock, when said children still were not drifting off into dreamland, I was just about ready to be done. The journey sucked, the destination seemed way out of reach, and I wanted to walk out of the room and go do my own thing. I so wanted to.
Instead, I decided that getting to sleep was less important than getting there smoothly and happily, and really, truly, getting to the core of the tantrums, the expression, the pushback. Somehow, I reached down into the depths of my patience (I was scraping the bottom folks, seriously), and I acknowledged the moment – and recognized the unmet needs that had been piling up all day.
So then what? What do you do when the tantrum that starts small becomes the tantrum that isn’t really ending? How do you stop the train in its tracks? How do you go with the flow, instead of resisting?
What did I do? I rebooted our bedtime. I took a deep breath. Then calmly (yet loudly, because, you know, I had to be heard over the yelling) stated that I didn’t like how things were going with the current bedtime, that I wasn’t feeling good, that I was sensing THEY weren’t feeling good, and that I was restarting bedtime.
What?
The sudden silence was like, awesome.
Suddenly, the destination wasn’t the important part anymore, instead, it was enjoying the trip. On went the bedroom lights. Off went the pjs, and back into the tub the kids went. Seriously, we just started over. Just rebooted our mom-kid computer, basically. I stopped directing. They stopped resisting. We started having fun. Bubbles started bubbling, tub time shenanigans ensued. Teeth were happily re-brushed (well, sort of. In one case, initially brushed. See: tantrum number two), jammies were cheerfully put back on (which, truth be told, never quite made it all the way on in the first place. See: tantrum number three), stories were re-told, songs were re-sung, and everyone settled down, peacefully, holding my hands, calmly… they went to sleep. Sleep, blissful sleep. The journey and the destination achieved with bliss.