We are a society that is obsessed with independence. On the parenting front, we wean our babies, on average at only 6 months old (one quarter of the minimum suggested by the World Health Organization). If we co-sleep with our children, we sort of apologize for it and talk up how we're working on a "solution." In so many ways, we are so very stubborn about doing things on our own, with the help of family or friends.
I've read numerous articles lately about the impossible demands the current generation of parents puts on themselves. We daily face a dizzying list of contradictions and shoulds, and there are approximately a million opportunities daily for failure. And independence? I'm not sure it really works when you're raising children. For generation after generation before us, it took a village. Silly of us to think we're different, but it seems like maybe we do.
I am not suggesting we lower our standards. I am suddenly realizing that I - and I imagine I am not alone - CANNOT do this without a village. Today, it suddenly hit me that I have been trying to do exactly that for much of my parenting journey so far, and it's not doing anyone any favors.
Enter the massive, very non-American (not un- or anti-, just non-) lifestyle overhaul, which began with us moving in with my in-laws last spring. We could no longer bear to live hand-to-mouth only to come home to 600 square feet of rented living space. As Hannah began creating murals down the hallway, we were like "SOS."
This morning, we very quickly made the decision to pull Hannah out of full time daycare. It's just simply too early for a 2-year-old to leave the house. She's been sick since September. How many times can I take seeing her face fall when I open the front door on a cold, foggy and pitch black morning as she says "stay home" and heads back inside? Toddler wrangling bookends my full day of teaching (read: teenager wrangling), and I get home exhausted. And maybe a little mean, mostly to myself. Hannah spends 8 hours a day at daycare, and a full hour of her day in her carseat, commuting with me along 405. Her childhood, and life in general, is too short for this. Thoreau's words in Walden Pond echo (somewhat menacingly) in my mind. "Simply, simplify, simplify."
Last year, we were stubbornly independent in our parenting. Grad school? Full time teaching? Child-rearing? Making ends meet in an economy gasping for air? WE CAN DO THIS ON OUR OWN, DAMNIT!! WE'RE GROWN UPS!! WE DON'T NEED HELP!! (We needed help.) Now, my parents live a mile away - literally. His parents live...um...100 feet away? All 4 are madly in love with Hannah and can't get enough of her. And I'm still waking Hannah up pre-dawn to commute to Seatac to go to daycare? Seriously?
Our new plan involves a little help from everyone, rather than our previous lame-ass plan of no help from anyone. Both of our parents will be all up in the parenting mix, an idea we stiffened at a year ago. Today, she had the opportunity to, so she stayed home with daddy. I got to simply go to work, do my job, and then come home. And when I did, we decorated Christmas ornaments, made cranberry sauce and chopped vegetables for dinner. We played with puzzles and had a tea party. We looked at her baby book and read board books. I still had half a tank at the end of my day, so my time with my child was quality and it nourished us both.
Oh, and I didn't fall asleep, drooling, at 7:30!
To hell with independence. I'll take a village.
No comments:
Post a Comment