You wouldn't think that gratitude is something that needs to be taught but I was reminded yesterday that it is not a natural inclination. Especially for a just turned five year old. Or for a thirty-something year old.
We had her princess tea party yesterday (it was awesome, pics to come). After all the festivities and after guests had left, she wanted to dive into the opened presents. I told her no. Not because I am a mean mom. Usually. But because we had to remember to write thank you notes.
Now let me preface this by saying I stink at writing them myself. I am not a perfect parent with a perfectly behaved child. Far from it. I still have a stack of people to thank for baby gifts and meals the first six weeks home. And forget about the birth announcements that are collecting dust in my guest room. But in an effort to teach the Kid to ALWAYS be grateful for what she is given, we sat down and went through every gift and wrote a note. Writing thank you notes wasn't something that I grew up doing, but darn it, you will be thankful if it kills you. She has a far more privileged existence than I did. She won't know what it's like to get free breakfast at school or go to a Medicaid clinic for check ups. But I am trying my hardest to keep her from feeling entitled.
I was taught to be polite and to say "please" and "thank you". My mother would have disowned me for rudeness to an adult. Seriously, she probably still would. "Please" and "thank you" are two phrases that will get an emergency room nurse in the middle of the night in residency to be your lifesaver. Catching more flies with honey and all that...
In the midst of blessing or grief or just mundane day to day activities, I am still learning to show gratitude. And hopefully teaching a little as well.
How do you practice or teach thankfulness in your life? Chime in!
Over the past few days, an article from the Wall Street Journal has been floating around some of my friends' Facebook pages with the title "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior". Automatically, my defenses get up because I consider myself to be a pretty decent mom about 98% of the time. I mean, I have a three year old who reads, draws elaborate pictures, speaks a little Spanish and Yoruba and can count to 100. Sure, she's scared of dogs and the wonky toilet in our bedroom... we're good right?
Then when you read the article more closely, you realize that the author is really comparing what I consider to be (for lack of a better term) "the first-generation immigrant" view point with that of a traditional Western attitude of child-rearing.
I can speak from personal experience being the child of such parents, who demanded nothing less than absolute excellence academically. It is not just Chinese mothers who expect this, but Nigerian and Indian and Korean mothers as well. There were very few sleepovers, no weekday TV and no video games for most of my childhood.
My parents never claimed to be my friends, they were my parents and I never doubted for a second that they would set me straight if I tried to pull something over on them. Even now, I try to keep the Kid on her toes by never letting her know when I am bluffing. In my universe, children should always think that their parents are just *a little bit* unhinged. Keep 'em guessing.
Anyway, I picked my colleges that I applied to by listing half of the top 25 from the U.S. News and World Report that year. I was "encouraged" to do science club and only allowed to do dance and participate in musicals when my parents realized that me having a busy schedule actually improved my straight A's. My friends with similar backgrounds played sports like tennis, never a contact sport like lacrosse or football. They were always in orchestra (dork-estra) but never allowed up on stage to be an actor.
When I got to college and toyed with doing an anthropology major, I was persuaded that I could get the same content from a biology degree (still a completely useless degree, IMO) with an art history minor (far more practical :-P). You simply don't hear of kids of first-generation Nigerians getting a degree in music or art. My parents would have discussed it with me until they were blue in the face and I was confused and broke down and declared myself a nice safe major like pre-medicine or pre-law or engineering.
That is probably why I'm a doctor, my sister is a lawyer and my brother is an engineer.
The main occupational hazard of working with small people who are germ-ridden (and having a preschooler who is around other germ-ridden children) is the occasional infection with kiddie crud.
Kiddie Crud. noun. A generic term referring to all sorts of gastrointestinal, respiratory and dermatologic conditions that small germ-monsters (aka patients) infect unsuspecting pediatricians and their families with.
So my daughter and I are sick and under quarantine. I think it may be scurvy. Or consumption. Or even possibly fever n' ague. If I was a pioneer on the Oregon Trail computer game right now, I would certainly have to trade some of my bison for medicine.
What I have learned:
Doctors make sucky patients. Shocking, I know.
Sesame Street is still a genius show. They have a spoof for Mad Men. 'Nuff said.
Having a stash of assorted antibiotics and at home is a blessing when your kid has pneumonia.
Objectivity and science go out the window when it is your kid who is sick.
A sick three year old is the most heartbreaking thing ever.
Do you have any favorite staying home sick from school memories or remedies to share?
Random pictures from getting together with one of my college best friends a few weeks ago. I love that kids do things like play monsters with blankets and have so much fun doing so. Oh to be three again...
I had a slightly bipolar childhood. Not literally bipolar, but I grew up until 6th grade in a very diverse, a friend from every nation type of existence. I then moved to "super suburbia" when I was 11 and I experienced a bit of cultural shock. At a time when all you want to do is fit in, I felt like I suck out like a sore thumb. Little did I know, that feeling like you don't fit in is pretty universal for teenagers. When my friends started saying that my name was sort of cool in high school, I started to relish my difference instead of being embarrassed. Note: I have a very unusual and long name. That was a pretty revolutionary concept to a girl who longed to be just like everyone else.
I am aware that now my three year old daughter is starting to realize the differences she has from classmates and I found two resources that will help us discuss how being different is still beautiful. When she watched the video below five times in a row, the look on her face was priceless. The words, "she has hair and skin just like me!" may have been uttered.
Another item I love is Chrysanthemum, by Kevin Henkes. It's about a little girl with an unusual name (like my daughter) and how she goes from loving to hating back to loving her unusual name. Like most of Henkes' books, there is enough subversive humor to keep parents snickering.
Are there any books, videos or other resources that you guys have found useful in explaining these concepts to kids on their level?
I always think it is HILARIOUS when anyone asks me for advice on how to get your child to sleep. I will explain why in a little bit.
I got an email from a reader as follows (edited for length):
Hi there,
I frequent your blog and have a totally random question for you, being that you are both a pediatrician and a mother I figured you'll have some fresh perspective to share. I have a two year old girl and a two month old boy. My daughter is having sleep issues. I'm not quite sure if I have too high expectations, but she refuses to sleep through the night in her bed in her room. We never really got her used to sleeping by herself at the "right time", but now with a baby, we need her to be in her room, fall asleep by herself (after a story or two, hugs, cuddles, kisses, whatever!!!) and stay asleep!! Is that too much to ask for??!?!?
Does your daughter sleep through the night in her room? Did she when she was two years old? I'm about to try a "strict" method that may involve a lot of crying on her part. I just need some neutral, real advice.
Thank you, Drbabymamadrama!!!
This is hilarious is because I could have written the exact same post when my daughter was two. I always wanted to slap those people that said "my kid has slept through the night since he/she was six weeks old". Really? I may have to throat punch you. Just kidding. Maybe.
My daughter has always been a horrendous sleeper since the day she was born. The child would wake up from a dead sleep if she had a wet or poopy diaper. No joke. Every damned (pardon my French) time. So that meant about waking up every 2 hours for the first two months. Hold me, baby Jesus.
I finally succumbed to co-sleeping (even though I swore up and down that I would never do that) from month 3-5 or so, based on some wise advice from some friends. My mom reminded me that in Nigeria, children rarely sleep in a room away from their parents for the first 3 years. Mommy guilt assuaged.
Around month 5-6, we tried "Ferberizing", which is the gradual prolonged intervals of letting your child cry until they fall asleep. Which worked for a few months and then she went through a viral stomach bug and learning to crawl and all sleep went to hell.
This was DEFINITELY complicated by the fact that my previous job had me working all kinds of crazy hours and there was a craptacular bedtime routine at that time and neither my husband nor myself have the best of sleep habits anyway (I am a notoriously light sleeper; my husband can survive on 5 hours of sleep a night!).
And the little bugger would sleep perfectly at day care, but when she new Mom or Dad were around, no such luck! I just smiled and lied through my teeth when my pediatrician asked how she was sleeping at well checks.
Dr: How is she sleeping?
Me: Heh, heh... fine... *avoiding eye contact*
We gave up and just did the co-sleeping thing for a while, letting her fall asleep in her crib (most overpriced, underused piece of furniture in our house) from the time she was about a year until about a little past two years old. We would take turns coaxing her to sleep because that is what worked for our family. It won't work for everyone.
And just after her second birthday, it just "clicked" with her. We hadn't changed anything with our nighttime routine of bath, books and snuggle time (and the occasional threat of hellfire and damnation -joking!- if she got out of bed). We just noticed one morning that we had both not heard a peep from her room and she didn't get up at all. She fell asleep and stayed asleep and all was right in the world again.
Not to say that we don't still have occasional requests for the bathroom and water at night, but it is better.
So that is a long answer to absolutely nothing. Yes, my daughter was still having sleep problems until she was past two and your situation is probably complicated by having a new sibling who is taking her parents' attention.
What I usually tell parents is that every kid is different and to try what works, be that "Ferberizing", a reward system, a small cot in her parents' room that she sleeps on, co-sleeping, whatever. There is no magic bullet. There are some great sleep books out there, including the No Cry Sleep Solution and Solve Your Baby's Sleep Problems and the Babycenter.com site. I once used to baby-sit for a VERY affluent family in college where the toddler, who had similar sleep issues to my daughter, slept in mom and dad's walk in-closet! He is now a normal, happy, healthy teenager.
Things that definitely help are having a consistent schedule, minimize TV/sugar drinks before bed, bedtime routine (bath, books, snuggle, prayers, whatever), and a cool, dark room. And lie through your teeth when someone asks you how your kid is sleeping.
I remember walking to school barefoot to school in the snow, uphill both ways... and there were actual card catalogs...
The Kid was totally loving visiting DC, especially since her aunt and uncle had some new/old toys at their house. My sister won this Fisher Price record player from eBay. It is the exact same kind we had when we were little, so I was thrilled to see it as well.
Although, the Kid kept call them CDs and got really confused when her old geezer of a mommy asked her to get the "record player". Seriously, *crickets* + blank stare.
And BTW, if she ever challenges you to a game of Sorry!, run, don't walk, in the opposite direction. I am sure that she has been secretly learning how to trounce adults at this game. It was kinda embarrassing.
Although, if I teach her how to hustle pool games, she could earn her keep. She would just need a couple of phone books to stand on.
Exhibit A: The Kid drinking a soda. Lest you think that I have a heart of ice and never let her have an ice-cold, carbonated, teeth-rotting treat.
Exhibit B: The purple cup in the background contains milk. I swear on a stack of Pediatrics journals that my sister actually took the milk away from my daughter and gave her the soda. All's fair on vacation, right?
Exhibit C: The soda is from Whole Foods so it is practically health food, right?
In our house, SYTYCD is called "dancers", as in, "Mommy, can we watch dancers?" and "It's Wednesday, is dancers on?". My child was obsessed. She would rehash the show with her teachers at school and they would discuss who they liked the best (Lauren, the winner, was the universal favorite). The Kid even had the Cat Deeley posh British accent down when she said "this is Robert!". Hilarious. She actually cried when I told her the season was over.
The show ended a few weeks ago, but the Nashville version is starting in our house because the Kid is taking dance classes this year.
This is the first organized activity she has done outside of preschool and church activities, so I am excited so see how things go with it this year. I used to be a dancer (I do a mean car dance to Taio Cruz's "Break Your Heart") in high school and college. I asked a high school friend who is now a part-time dance teacher for her tips on picking a dance class for kids.
Make sure that the studio has teachers with degrees in Dance Pedagogy or Dance. That way you know that some kid with talent, but no teaching ability isn't teaching your child poor dance habits.
There should be lots of class times and days to choose from. That way you can make up class if you ever have to miss her regular day and not lose out on tuition AND it means they have many clients. More clients usually = a good business.
Try to find one with separate recitals for preschool/K. Otherwise, you're sitting through 3+ hours with a 4 year old in June.
Make sure they have a preschool program that includes ballet, tap, and jazz.. It would be called a combo class.
Look at at least two different studios for price and policies (waiting rooms, tuition, dress) and then have your daughter visit with you. She might really feel comfortable somewhere and that way, she'll be more likely to go in without any issues.
I am lucky that one of my best friends from college is a child psychologist, specializing in neurodevelopment. We had lunch with her and her husband last month when we were passing through Cincinnati so that my husband could watch the World Cup. And so that I could lose my voice. But I digress.
While the men were watching the game at the pub and I was trying to pacify the Kid with a grilled cheese sandwich, I started asking her about toddler phobias. The Kid is scared of dogs and some swimming pools. Particularly getting her hair wet.
Which probably shouldn't be surprising given that most black women have an aversion to getting their hair wet at all. You will probably never see a black female Olympic swimmer. Weaves and braids are expensive and don't take well to chlorine. Just saying...
Mind you, if one of my patients asked me the same question about toddler phobias, I would say, "of course, dogs and water are normal fears", but a little reassurance from a friend never hurts. Which she proceeded to tell me were completely normal and VERY common fears. The Kid was snapped at once by a dog and ever since, most dogs will elicit high-pitched shrieking and her trying to climb up your leg like a squirrel. She did okay at the beach and in the small swimming pool, but absolutely refuses to get her hair and face wet. Which makes for very interesting scenes when I wash her hair.
But then I remembered my even more irrational phobias from when I was little.
Exhibit A: The Incredible Hulk.
Guaranteed to induce panicked hyperventilation and pleas for my dad to change the channel to this classic 80's show. He would usually laugh and tell me to go to my room. Parents just don't understand.
Exhibit B: Sam Donaldson. You know, the former news correspondent for ABC News?
Also guaranteed to induce panicked hyperventilation and pleas for my dad to change the channel. Cue more paternal laughter.
I think it was the eyebrows.
Any irrational fears from childhood? If you have kids, are they scared of anything completely off the wall like I was?
I figure that the people feel the most vulnerable and open with their priest, lawyer and doctor. Which is good. Because I can spot a patient who lies a mile away. Really, you brush their teeth twice a day, every day and they never watch TV and never drink juice? Hmmm...
However there is such a thing as too much honesty.
I don't want to hear or see that...
Your child's first words are "Mommy", "Daddy" and the Spanish word for "Lady of the night who does things to her mother". Not good.
You got tennis elbow/golfer's elbow from playing Wii.
In a related fashion, you broke your hand playing Guitar Hero.
The staples I am taking out of your head are from getting pistol-whipped. (I am guessing that me telling you to use your seat belt and always use sunscreen will fall on deaf ears.)
You tasted your child's vomit. Ever.
You let your child chew on the edge of the exam table.
Your child older is allowed to hit you.
Your teenager is allowed to swear at you or call you names.
Your child learned how to swear at church camp.
That "something" crawled into your child's ear and died last night.
We went to North Myrtle Beach for vacation last week for my birthday and it was a much needed and restful vacation where the biggest decision was what to wear and "pool or beach?". Eight hundred kinds of awesome.
We do car rides old school with no DVDs, no toys besides what easily fits into a tiny backpack and lots of grownup music (although there may have been an Elmo CD in East Tennessee). And lots of parental threats of, "don't make me come back there!". Masochistic? Maybe. I make her suffer like I used to suffer in the back of a 1977 Buick with no AC on the two-day trip from Athens, Georgia to Austin, Texas.
Commencing toddler "Ugly Face", as the Kid calls it.
Still not sure why my parents didn't leave me and my siblings somewhere in Alabama with a couple of bologna sandwiches, Fruit Roll-Ups and a sign that said, "Will Whine for Food".
Being the major dork that I am, we sometimes do a question and answer session, albeit simple, with the Kid. For example:
Me: What do you do when you're hungry?
The Kid: Eat something!
Me: What do you do when you're tired?
The Kid: Sleep!
Me: What do you do when your breath is stinky?
The Kid: Brush your teeth!
Me: What do you do when you're mad?
The Kid: Put your happy face back on!
This declaration was accompanied by the toddler equivalent of a fist pump and a big smile.
Only will give stickers to (relatively) well behaved children. Or if I hurt you (i.e., gave shots, cleaned ears, etc.). If you are rude, badly behaved and are a typically developing child over four years of age and cannot sit still for 3.8 seconds... YOU. DO. NOT. GET. STICKERS.
And you especially won't get any of my secret stash of lollipops that I keep for bribery.
I may or may not have had my flight to BNA canceled and may or may not be sitting in a Midwest airport hotel in my last clean t-shirt and underwear and may or may not be watching Cartoon Network with my daughter (who may or may not be only wearing tights and tennis shoes) while eating junk food from room service.
One of the awesome things about being in the South is what a friend of mine calls "The March of the Church Ladies". Like the March of the Penguins, this is a well-orchestrated, planned and coordinated mission. Instead of freezing your behind off in Antarctica, the March of the Church ladies centers around when a woman has a baby.
I miss old school SNL.
First: You have a get pregnant/plan to adopt.
Second: Someone from the church who has been coordinating pre-baby arranges for meals to be brought to your home (depending on the preference of the receiver) for up to two MONTHS (depending on the church)!
Third: Have a baby.
Fourth: The March begins. Four or five times a week for up to two months, someone from will show up at your door with a fresh homemade meal and probably a cute present for the babe. Eat lots of yummy Southern food that you don't have to make and roll your eyes at your husband who is glad he isn't eating frozen pizza or PB&J sandwiches anymore.
I would almost have another kid right now just to witness this firsthand.
I'm sorry, didn't you just have a baby like 5 1/2 weeks ago???!!! NOT. FAIR. At that point, I was trying to figure out if nursing could truly make you develop some sort of hormone induced psychosis.
