Speaking the Taboo

I am a proponent of convenience.
Becoming a mother is overwhelming, especially when your expectations fail to match reality. I had hoped that my child would be one of those wonder kids who just grow up on their own and astonish their parents with their discipline and obedience. 

the fully automated perfect child

But I guess there are no children like that. Women only tell those tales to make you feel bad. 
And that's exactly what I felt in the first 3 months after my baby was born.
One thing that bothered me the most was the constant crying. Now I know that a baby cannot talk and cries only to communicate, but man, it gets annoying at some point.

It was one of these episodes of endless wails and ear piercing screams that I made the decision to introduce the pacifier to my insatiable soul.  

Judging from the reactions I later received, I believe I have encroached upon a taboo topic.

behold the evil

Pacifiers are (apparently) evil! I even found a list of reasons online why not to use a pacifier, as advised by a lactation consultant. 
I did what I later realised was the unspeakable.
In my defence, I am only human. 
Instead of turning into a monster and launch into a competition of tears with my baby I chose an easier way to deal with the problem.
But this blog post is not about gauging whether a pacifier is harmful or not. 
A year into adopting the pacifier as a vital necessary, this post is my admission of guilt; and at the same time trying to dispel a couple of myths that I was warned against. 

Myth #1: Pacifiers increase the risk of ear infections

err .. not exactly talking about ears transforming into giant flowers

Well, this actually is not a myth. According to research, pacifiers do increase the risk of ear and throat infections amongst infants who are at a higher risk. 
But a controlled use of pacifiers might just not contribute in causing the potential harm. A controlled use implies that the pacifier be given only to soothe the baby and when putting him to sleep.

Myth #2: Pacifiers cause deformed teeth

Well my personal counter argument is that the child is bound to lose his first set of teeth so what's the whole hoopla about.
But apparently allowing the child to use the pacifier beyond 3 years of age will affect the way his teeth grow. In addition it may contribute to dental decay and misaligned jawlines.

Myth #3: Pacifiers will make your baby an addict

Eh, I really doubt that a pacifier can lead to such a paramount habit. So says this article too!

and the best ...

Myth #4: A pacifier is the tool of a dummy mummy

I would rather prefer a yummy mummy

'[

Well, I may be a mummy, but I'll certainly not agree to the dummy part. In the one year since I have been parenting, I have been pretty vigilant is following through the milestones of my child. He can now roll over, stand with support, babble and at time even show signs of intelligence by counting on his fingers by repeating me. This pretty much negates my assumed reputation of being a moron.

So it seems that at times some of the advises bombarded upon you may just be stemming from reality. However, as a mother one should always be informed about the decision they're taking.
While I chose to allow my child to develop the habit, I have bee seeking an exit strategy alongside. In my opinion that is the best way to deal with your actions: as long as you have a solution, indulge in the habit!

The Ordinary Hero

On one hand we have Batman, Wolverine and the Wonder Woman. While on the other we have a Mother.
It may seem that the two have absolutely nothing in common, simply because the former lead lives of glorious victories with stories of endless bravery, while the latter has her very own cliched diaper diaries. 
Even on the exterior, the two seem to belong to two different classes of species.

Anatomy of a Superhero

and then we have ...

But then I cam across this Periodic Table of Super-Powers.

Much like the table of elements in chemistry, the Periodic Table of Super-Powers defines the characteristics of super-heroes; the possession of which will eventually help a being be categorised as either plain human or a league above.

It may look a little confusing at first. But we can see the table has been divided into three groups: origin stories, mental powers and physical powers. According to the table if one possesses certain characteristics from the table, they automatically become a super-hero.

Here's how I used the table to decipher the code of categorising mothers as super heroes.

Origin Stories

Super Powers: Mutant (X) - Animalistic (An)

Well one thing's for certain: mothers are not human. I'm not implying that they be outcasts but attempting to explain my reason for choosing the 'X' when defining their origin.
If you can see from the table, the X signifies the mutant origin of the super-hero. Women are born human. But then they become mothers. That's when the evolution starts. Mothers transform into a species where they demand no sleep, no food and develop an inspiring level of patience which was formerly absent.

However, that evolution is subtle. Mothers mutate but that's on a genetic level. The changes at the micro-cellular level help them still be accepted as part of the normal society where they are expected to function like a normal human. 
Sadly, this is both a curse and a blessing. Either way it has left the world in a quandary as to who exactly are mothers?

Now that we've established the evolution of mothers into mutants, we can elaborate further on their origin.
I believe that mothers also have an animalistic (An) origin. I am simply deducing this from the understanding that mothers develop the capacity to work like animals owing to the fact that they have the innate qualities to become one. 

From staying awake all night like an owl ..

.. to multi-tasking like a dog ..

.. or at times attempting to devour their young like polar bears.

Mental Powers

Super Powers: Illusions (Il) - Precognition (Pc)

Mothers possess the mental power of convincing the world that they have everything under control. They are illusionists in that way.
For instance, after having children, mothers often lose track of time. They tend to give priority to chores that were previously considered insignificant and choose to refuse obliging to social appointments that were once a part of her daily life. Her friends and family then succumb to the illusion that she has channelled her attention only towards her child and is deliberately ignoring them. However, the reality is quite on the contrary. 

In other instances, the mother becomes an illusionist to her children. She may be saying one thing, but to her children, the words translate into a completely opposite meaning.

And lastly, the super-power of being an illusionist is so strong that at times the mother has to convince herself otherwise. She may be a completely dutiful, diligent and almost perfect mother, but her unjustified guilt may lead her to think that she's just not doing a good job. In those cases it's always better that she reverse the power and accept the truth.

Motherhood also bestows upon the receivers the mental power of Precognition (Pc). She has this unrealised potential of predicting anything bad that's bound to happen. It may seem that the premonitions were actually conceived by herself; and when they do come true, we can always hear her say: I told you so.

Physical Powers

Super Powers: Strength (S) - Speed (Sp) - Detective (Dc) - Force Fields (Ff) - Super Senses (Sn)

From the table it may seem that mothers may have almost all the physical powers to surpass even the most respected super heroes. But here are a few I thought are more appropriate to motherhood.

Strength (S)

They may have muscles of a kitten but surely have the willpower of an ant.

Speed (Sp)

Because she can deal with all of this and still get the kids to school on time ..

Detective (Dc)

She will know what her kids have been up to; thanks to social networking sites.

Force Fields (Ff)

She'll always be the haven to her children - from the day they are born to the day they die.

Super Senses (Sn)

They can always detect the scheming ploys behind a naughty child's innocent face.

While mothers may not have been included in either the Justice League or the Avengers, it can safely be said that they are a category of their own. They might not be able to boast of a fancy costume, or a toned figure, or even partake in narrating stories of saving the world, but they do have an inner drive that helps them carry on their role with a fervour equal to those quoted by the fictional characters in comics.

Here's to all mothers -  children's real super-heroes, which they will only realise once they're done playing with the fictional action figures!

*cheers*

Peek-a-boo

The Problem with Raising a Perfect Child

Most of the time these days, I don't have time. No time to do anything but only look forward to the little naps  granted by my infant's exhausted state. 

However, there have been instances when I am sitting absolutely free of chores and mental stimulation, locked in a world with my baby. These are the times when I often reflect upon the question of whether I'm doing justice to my role as a parent.

am I?

When I was pregnant and blooming with life and energy, I had made quite a few plans. According to my scheduled ambitions, by this time my baby should've not only been potty trained, but also mastered the german language and learned to count up to 20. 

None of the goals are even close to achievements.

I often wonder then what went wrong along the way.

Apparently the internet has the answer to everything. So in the attempts to address my assumed failure, I searched my query online:

How to raise a perfect child?

Forced by habit to choose the easiest way out, I clicked upon the least complicated link.  Voila! There I had it. The answer I had sought for so long, It looked easy as I went through each step very eloquently described.

But then I realized there was a problem with each proposal. They were far easier to read than implement. Though all of them might not be that hard to exercise, here's my rebuttal as to why I'm unable to follow through some of them:

Proposal: Put parenting first

Rebuttal: I'm a stay-at-home mother. I'm guessing that's what I try do the whole day. And if that's not enough I can volunteer to build an all-purpose-robotic-nanny instead.

Proposal: Review how you spend the hours and days of your week.

Rebuttal: Planning my naps around my baby's sleep schedule

Proposal: Be a good example

Rebuttal: That would include the virtues of patience, steadfastness and tolerance. I think I had them before. Then I fell victim to an overcrowded mind and a haphazard routine.

Proposal: Develop an ear and an eye for what your children are absorbing.

Rebuttal: I'm a strong proponent of this fact. The question is, do I myself have spare ears and eyes to do the same. Hmmm...

Proposal: Punish with a loving heart

Rebuttal: With those cute cheeks, that's just not possible

Proposal: Learn to listen to your children

Rebuttal: I think I do. But there's too much noise in the background. In my head.

Proposal: Make a big deal out of the family meal

Rebuttal: That's what my baby does. And it also leaves a big mess behind.

Either way, I think that there is no one way to raise a child - and that too a perfect one.

Every child is perfect in their own sense. As parents we need to realize this very imporant fact instead of falling prey to stereotypes, which more often than not only make us feel guilty. We are parents for a reason, because we bear the capacity to become one. So I think that there is no perfect child. There is only your child who is a reflection of you; and if we succeed in making them into humans better than us than I can say we've done our jobs. 

And to the internet who seemed a pro at parenting advice, here's my message.

teething baby = psychological injury

Babies are unpredictable. From their unsuspecting growth spurts to surprising bowel movements, every incident in their lives is a complete mystery. As a mother I have never been able to figure out an impending milestone to help me make a pre-emptive strike.

now where's that brain that'll figure out my next move?

Teething has been one of them.  

The process has taken me completely out-of-the blue and now I'm left a baffled soul, not knowing what to do and how to go about it.

you don't say ...

Here's why my baby's teething process has been traumatizing for me:

False alarms

Within the last 10 months he has shown symptoms of cutting a tooth three times. He still has no teeth.

hmmm ... that is strange

The first time we, the parents predicted he was teething was during autumn. My baby had fallen ill with a considerable fever and throughout the night moaned as if in pain. I was sure to find a tooth sprouting from his cute gums within a week. But the very next day he woke up all well.  The puzzling fever had yielded no teeth; only a sleep deprived, cranky mother.

After a few months the baby fell sick again. At this point he was at the perfect age when children are assumed to begin teething. Once again the symptoms of fussiness accompanied with a high fever lifted out spirits that indeed within a few days we’d be the proud parents of a one-toothed baby.

Once again we were disappointed. The very next day the fever resolved itself owing to multiple doses of panadol (which sadly tastes nothing like calpol – the sweet indulgence of my childhood).

To this day the mystery of the sporadic fevers remains unsolved.

Sherlock is baffled

The excruciating wait

My baby has been agitated since a week and his diaper is being soiled by loose stools periodically. Plus a very nasty rash is contributing to the state of discomfort.

After a thorough online research I seem to have matched all these symptoms to teething.  Now all I’m doing is just waiting for the theory to translate to reality; which is taking its sweet time.

Either his teeth are too stubborn or time has come to a standstill. Nothing is sprouting from his gums yet and I have no idea when it will. 

The knowledge of the unknown is only contributing to my impatient state of existence which in this moment is pleading for a sound sleep.

when oh God? When?!

The pitiful soul

Besides silent prayers there is nothing more I can do for the helpless baby.

There are many tactics, both natural and artificial that I've been trying. 

From a timeless homoeopathic medicine passed on by our ancestors, to melon shaped cold teethers, it may seem that I'm trying everything. The medicine they say will take its time and the teether are vehemently being opposed for the want of the familiar pacifier. 

The once cheerful and care-free child has now succumbed to the force of the unknown. He does not know from where the pain stems and thus constantly bangs his fist on his head, for I believe in accordance to the theory of 'relocation of pain': transfer the pan from his mouth to his thick skull.

Right now my weapon of combat is patience. It's the only thing I have to hold on to, to let myself from losing control. 

Come, let's all pray this ordeal for everyone of us is over soon!

Amen

Dad's dreadful day, when Mom goes out to play

I love my husband. He is a good man with a kind heart. 
That's why when I asked him to baby-sit my toddler for a few hours, he politely agreed. According to him he had no reason to say no. 
Firstly, because he was taking care of his own child. He said that the father and son needed to have bonding sessions to help the little boy grow into a man (however that'd work in a single session).

'Son, today I'll teach you to throw a ball, run across a field, play cricket, hop on one leg and  if there's time left, operate an airplane'

And second most importantly, because it was his day off.

I needed to go out for the much awaited spring shopping to pull myself out of the mess of spit-on clothes and comfort PJs. I wanted to bedazzle myself in the mirror and had every intention to do so.
So for the next 3 hours I was contently indulging myself in self-pleasure through retail therapy, with the assurance of quality time being spent between the parent and child.

'I love my life again!'

However, it was a different case when I got home.

I was welcomed with a cranky baby and a frustrated dad.

what I expected ..
.

... what actually was!

Let me narrate the two spectacles separately.

The tiny time-bomb

The baby was indeed a time-bomb. 

As soon as I had left, the timer had been set to explode upon the arrival of the child's mother.

The proceedings as described by the sole witness (the father) included the baby starting to get agigated. Allowed to play freely in his walker, the baby had simply refused to make the most of his independence and constantly kept whining about in a language comprehensible (but not translatable) by peers of his age only.

Nothing soothed him. From the offering of a bottle, to the pacifier and eventually succumbing to the act of self puppetry by a giant man, it seemed there was no solution to the problem at hand.

'Now he must really think I'm not cool'

However, the source was very obvious and potently wreaking. 

All the baby needed was a diaper change. Unfortunately the dad does not play that game. He completely refuses to change a diaper as if it were a sin.

Operation Diaper: Lethal 

The problem then had laid on both ends.

The first-time dad

I feel sorry for him as I write this. He is such a sweetheart and now I think I had entrusted him with the task of titans. Such a job demands preliminary training on-the-job. Only then should the weapon be tossed into the hands of a novice.

I mistakenly had attempted an act as inconsiderate as asking this cat to teach chemistry.

My husband had planned on watching the UFC with the baby, and later try to teach him how to punch a boxing bag (once again how was this practically possible?). On the contrary the baby ended up familiarizing him with the range of vocal chords of a human.

No doubt it was nothing less than a traumatic experience for each party in their own respect. But I do appreciate the fact that despite everything that went on inside the house, my husband never bothered me once and let me enjoy the time I had with myself. And for that I love him even more.

The horror though shall linger on for a few more days.

Oh well, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.