The Pinky: Or, My Parenting Theory

[porphyry]

Now that my brother and sister-in-law, whom I half-affectionately, half-irritatingly refer to as the Rats, are expecting their first child, a son, in September (whom I refer to as the Pinky—that’s what baby rodents are called in the States—though I do not, of course, say this to their faces), my sister-in-law is all of a sudden wanting me to commiserate with her about the aches and pains of pregnancy and asking me questions about childbirth and motherhood in general. 

I’m afraid she’s asking the wrong person.  As far as I am concerned, despite the fact there is no end to the amount of information expectant parents can find in bookstores and on the internet about these things, that’s all useless.  One can get, at best, a general idea about it, but why waste your time and money searching the web and perusing the bookshelves?  It’s a detriment, really; it turns first-time parents, before the child is born, into so-called experts, while the rest of us laugh quietly to ourselves, knowing that having a child in theory is much easier than actually having one.  Quite simply, having a child is the ultimate Flying-By-The-Seat-Of-Your-Pants venture.

 

“What does labor feel like?” Heidi, my sister-in-law, asks me.

 

“It hurts,” I tell her, having gone through it myself without painkillers.  She asks me a few more questions, but she’ll get no more out of me.

 

Sometimes she asks me about having a newborn.  “You’ll figure it out,” I tell her.  She asks a few more questions, but she’ll get no more out of me.

 

Every once in a while, I try to define what childbirth and parenting are by explaining what it’s not.  “If you ask me,” I say, “Water birth is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.  I think it’s supposed to make the whole birth process less traumatic for the baby or something, that going from that nice, wet, quiet place into this harsh, dry world is too much for the kid to take.  I mean, come on!  He’s a mammal!  He’s got to come up out of the water sometime—why not just get it over with?  Even whales and dolphins, whose natural element is the water, get their babies to the surface as quickly as possible after they’re born.  It must come from that aquatic ape nonsense.  You’re not going to do anything dumb like that, are you?”

 

Somehow, I have been designated as the planner of her baby shower (something I myself didn’t have because I didn’t want one); I suppose it’s I by default since my mother can’t really do it herself right now.  What do I know about these things?  Nothing much—I can’t even convince Andrew that the event itself is not, in fact, one during which all the guests will take a shower à là bathtub. 

 

Since I have been so uncommunicative to my poor sister-in-law, though (but I always assure her it’s not because I don’t care—I can’t wait to meet the little man—it’s just that what I know can’t really give her a sense of what to expect), I’m considering instead to try to work up a treatise on motherhood for her.  Maybe I’ll deliver it as a speech at the baby shower.  If so, it will go something like this:

 

1.  The Newborn Phase (0-2 months)

 

When you bring the baby home from the hospital, what can you expect?  Well, you can expect the baby to do three things:  eat, sleep, and make messes in his diaper; ergo, your primary duties are to feed the baby, to not sleep, and to change him.  He’ll sleep anywhere from 16-20 hours a day, but you’ll wonder why you’re so exhausted in spite of his profound sleeping habits.  You move through these first weeks in a fog, wondering How the hell can one tiny person make so much laundry?  You’ll know life is different, all right, but what you don’t know is that all this time he’s sleeping, he’s making all his evil plans for when he wakes up.  In truth, I found my babies a bit boring during this phase—they never said anything and looked kind of goofy, all scrunched up like they wanted to go back to where they came from.

 

2.  The Shortest Phase:  The Cute Phase (2-6 months)

 

Eventually, the baby does awaken, starts sleeping less and doing a little more—for example, batting at toys, though not nearly as deftly as a cat, so it’s not to be admired; it’s too frenetic and uncontrolled, but hey—he’s learning.  The baby fills out nicely, looking plump the way a baby should, and starts smiling.  That is kind of cute, I must admit.  His attention span will be short, but it’s okay—he’ll be happy enough and you’ll start to think this isn’t so bad after all, especially since he’s sleeping better at night and life feels more normal.  Sort of.  You’re doing as well as one can expect now that you’ve given up going out to dinner, going to films, traveling often, and listening to fine music so that you can mostly stay home, buy diapers, and listen to the music from Thomas the Tank Engine over and over instead.

 

3.  The Mobile Phase (6 month-2 years)

 

Now comes the time when the baby starts putting into action all those evil plans he made when he was still in his newborn stupor.  He will no longer be content to stay in a swing very long; he’s getting stronger and wants to explore.  He’ll sit up first, then start to crawl, and eventually walk.  The books will give you all kinds of ways to baby proof your home for safety, but take my word for it:  the only way to baby proof a house is to burn it to the ground.  You’ll spend most of the time asking each other, “Where’s the baby?” or asking the baby, who by now is in what Freud called the oral phase, “What’s that in your mouth?” because every little thing he finds on the floor will go right into his mouth (he’ll get over this eventually, but it’s pretty bad while it lasts).

 

Still, this phase has its upside, mostly because he’s still pretty much in agreement with your way of doing things.  He won’t really fall to pieces much unless he’s very tired or hungry, and that’s easily solved by food or sleep.  He’ll interact with you more and learn at a phenomenal rate.  Oh, there’s the occasional crisis—“Would you please quit trying to climb over that safety gate? You’ll fall down the stairs!”, or “Did the baby run off with my glasses, do you know?” or “Stop putting your hands in your diaper after you’ve gone!” but of course all this varies from baby to baby.  Just roll with it and go to the emergency room when necessary.  But once a child becomes mobile in this phase, you are forever following, watching, and listening to make sure everything is all right.

 

4.  The Toddler Phase (2-18 years)

 

A newborn baby has no concept of the word “I.”  As far as he’s concerned, his identity is you and the others around him.  A little before or a little after about two years old, your child will start to figure out his identity is separate from yours, and he will start to assert his independent will.

 

It’s uncanny.  Overnight, almost, that cute little baby you once knew has gone and this scary little monster has come to take his place, but damn!—he looks just like your baby who, a month before, was smiley and agreeable to everything.  Now he’s figured out he’s got opinions of his own, mostly communicating this to you through saying, “No!”  To anything.  To everything.  To things he formerly said yes to, possibly even ten minutes before.

 

Your best line of defense at this point is simply to realize you are dealing with someone who is crazy.  Never expect a reasonable, rational response or consistency.  Remember, the words idiot, idiom, and idiosyncrasy are cognate, basically meaning “one’s own” or “personal, private language or way” and so if you are tempted to tell him, “You’re acting like an idiot,” you are not really insulting the child, just acknowledging his assertion of his individual will.

 

During this time, your child will also develop a really irrational idea that you will spend years working him out of—he’s going to believe that the whole world revolves around his wants, needs, and desires.  This toddler phase and its mindset goes from about two until about eighteen (although I know people at thirty who are still in it, so there’s no guarantee) when he’ll realize that life is neither just nor fair sometimes.

 

But it’s all worthwhile, really.  Good luck and godspeed.  Now, I must go finish watching Fractured Fairy Tales with my kids.

Comments

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

The big rat even looks like our sister-in-law.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

She does not! Well--maybe a little.

[stefanie-bean.livejournal.com]

I am still laughing from this: It’s a detriment, really; it turns first-time parents, before the child is born, into so-called experts, while the rest of us laugh quietly to ourselves, knowing that having a child in theory is much easier than actually having one.

So true.

I mean, how can you say to a scared first-time pregnant mom, "It will hurt like the three-headed bitch from hell," when they think you're crazy anyway for doing it without drugs? Even though it IS really tempting.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

I wonder how many second-time parents bothered to try to learn anything? :) I mean, as you well know, one pregnancy does not predict another, nor does one child predict another.

I'm certainly not opposed to pain management, believe me; unfortunately, I'm one of those women for whom an epidural causes her blood pressure to fall dangerously low--mine was too low for my doctor's comfort, anyway--so it just wasn't an option for me. And I don't think anybody can really explain effectively that kind of pain unless, as you say, you want to frighten the poor woman out of her wits. :) And it's true, you do forget how bad it was, or no right thinking person would ever do it again.

[calizen.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I remember reading all these parenting books before having the kid and wondering why parents were so stupid and inept.

Then *I* became the parent and I knew why.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

I know. You just have to laugh about it. You really do. :)

But the actual truth is, I wouldn't trade my kids in for the world.

[calizen.livejournal.com]

Me neither. But oh the experiences they put us through!

[benicek.livejournal.com]

The newborn and cute phases were a total unremitting horror for us, never to be repeated. Mobile is good though.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

I actually enjoy the whole mobile/toddler phase better myself, mostly because the child actually develops a real personality and starts talking like a person ought to. Maybe I'm just too elitist. :)

Why was the first part so bad for you and your wife?

[benicek.livejournal.com]

I think we both had post-natal depression. I hated the baby. I don't now, of course. I still think it may have been a mistake, however. I don't think I'm really suited to fatherhood. I resent it. It would be a bad idea for me to have any more kids.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

I am probably one of the most level-headed people on the planet, but shortly after the birth of both my children, I was blue--I distinctly remember, about a week after Andrew was born, sitting in the bathtub crying my eyes out, and I couldn't even figure out why. Took a few weeks for it to work itself out, I tell you. And Malkhos? He just functioned like an automaton. After about three weeks of caring for a newborn, he was splayed out on our bed and commented, "I couldn't have relations with you right now even if you begged me. I couldn't do it." Now--that's a real reversal for him. I assured him I needed six weeks anyway, but you get the point. Even now, Malkhos feels having them (and of course he loves them) causes him to have to put off things he'd rather be doing or having us be doing together.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

And by the way--I never cry.

[jermynsavile.livejournal.com]

I didn't comment on this at the time, but keep coming back to it. It is, quite simply, the wisest advice about children I have ever read. Not definitive, of course, but just so spot on about the limitations of what "good" parenting can do, the ways and whys of childrens' behaviour, the perils of giving advice and so much more. Thank you for this, I absolutely love it.