Counting My Lucky Kids

Things are good right now. Part of me knows that saying that is like a lightning rod for bad luck:

"I'll show you, over-confident parent! Now your children shall be struck by a pox, forget how to sleep, spit food back in your face, require no less than three hospital visits, forget everything they have learned, and pit you and your spouse against one another, all because you dared to speak of your contented state!" laughed the parenting gods mercilessly.

In spite of this, I feel the need to draw attention to it for a number of reasons. First, it might be fleeting, but writing it down will help me to remember how good parenting can be and that it will likely be this good or better again soon. Second, it can help me appreciate what I have and serve as a reminder not to whinge and moan when the little things don't go my way.

Nolan is quite possibly the happiest, most content child I have ever known. So long as his belly is full, he gets his rest, and the scenery changes every so often, he smiles and coos and laughs and is the definition of agreeable. He is strong and healthy and developing on time. I often feel the need to tell those without children that he is abnormal for fear that he will become that with which they measure the normalcy of their own children in the future.

Norah continues to amaze us. Her burgeoning personality is one that is kind, funny, analytical, empathetic, helpful, and creative. She aims to please the majority of the time. Her love for her little brother is palpable. She give spontaneous kisses and thankyous-- tonight she noticed me hug a non-family member for the first time. Her eyes lit up, "You give a big hug?" as if it was so affirming that adults show affection to their friends, too. She has had a long stretch of good health and eats better than I would expect of most toddlers.

This positive state leaves me reflecting-- What impact have I had? How did we get here? How can we stay this way? While there is no way of knowing for certain how much has been our parenting and how much is dumb luck and good timing, I would like to think that there are a few things we do well.

1. Even though they don't understand it, we always explain why. Why not to touch the knife, why we don't eat cookies for breakfast, why we can't go play with friends when we are cranky because we didn't nap... Although in the moment it seems a waste of breath, the next day or next week when Norah parrots the reason back to us in a similar context, we know she was listening.

2. We have expectations of behaviour that we communicate and practise regularly. In regards to tantrums, I once heard a child psychologist quip, "When a child is drowning, you don't try to teach them to swim, you save them. The lessons have to come when things are calm and there is no risk." We make Norah rehearse appropriate responses to hypothetical situations and praise her when she puts them into practice. Most recently, we taught her to say "Excuse me." when she wanted to interrupt an adult conversation or phone call. While she doesn't yet understand that she will not always get an immediate response or that the interrupted conversation will continue once her needs are met, she is excellent at knowing when "Excuse me" is the appropriate thing to say.

3. We make sleep a priority (ignore the fact that I am up writing this at 11:30). We have returned to holding Nolan for all his naps so that they last the two hours he needs. We try like the dickens to get Norah to nap on the weekends (though we are not always successful). We keep reasonable bedtimes and whenever possible, we let the kids sleep as late as they can. Fact is, they're different people when they don't get their sleep. We know enough about accumulating sleep-debt and its devastating effects on children's physical and mental well-being that we refuse to screw with it. It has meant sacrificing a lot of socializing and some personal freedom, but it is a non-negotiable in our house.

4. We offer a balanced diet. What sugar Norah does get is primarily from fruit and home baking. We do keep fruit-leather treats on hand and allow her to indulge in ice-cream a couple times a month, but we do our best to offer whole foods whenever possible.

5. We cut ourselves some slack. Today we had mac and cheese and chicken fingers for lunch. I didn't sweat it because last night, Norah ate two bowls of chickpea stew. Norah hasn't been enrolled in any formal activities since spring (and Nolan hasn't had a single swimming lesson or yoga session), but because it means we can have more leisurely weekends with less stress about getting places on time, we don't care. Norah got a little burn helping me make pancakes a couple weeks ago. Sure, I felt guilty as hell for a while, but when I think about her culinary skills and knowledge and her comfort in the kitchen, I'm amazed. There's no reward without risk.

6. We apologize when we screw up. Last night, C was watching my niece and nephew and so I was solo with the kids at bedtime, which for this rare occasion, happened to be the same for both of them. With a screaming baby in my arms, I told Norah the worst bedtime story in the history of bedtime stories, shut off the lights, and fled in the hopes of settling Nolan. I responded three times to Norah's cries, each with increasing impatience and anger (swaddled, screaming, 20 lb baby in arms), leaving her more distraught each time. Finally, on the fourth try, I went in and apologized, showering her with kisses and hugs (all while Nolan cried on the end of her bed), explaining why I acted the way I did (see #1), telling her what I needed her to do (see #2), and promising tomorrow night would be better. Sure enough, it did the trick. Tonight, I stayed with her for "six minutes" after her story ("Okay, Norah. I will lie here with you for five minutes." "No! Six minutes!") while we snuggled and she tickled my face. When it was time for me to go, she protested lightly, but after closing the door, I didn't hear another peep.

7. We find time (albeit not regularly enough) to hash things out as a couple. When we're out of patience, being curt, and taking things personally, we know it is time for some adult conversation. Whether it be in the car with two sleeping kids, or too late at night before we finally get some sleep, we make the time to talk. It isn't always easy, but we usually come out better than we started, and ready to start working as a team again.

I almost forgot 8. We are silly most of the time. Neither C nor I are afraid to make fools of ourselves. We engage in make believe multiple times a day and laugh at ourselves just as often. We are catalysts in Norah's imaginary worlds and do our best to show her that creativity comes before dignity.

Nothing here is original or any kind of secret, but it's what is working for us right now. What are your secrets to familial success?