“I won’t ever use a pacifier with my baby!”
“I would never let my child use/watch the (insert technology here).”
To these parents I say – just you wait. It is impossible to know what type of parent you will be until you are catapulted headfirst into a narrow tunnel with a speeding freight train (read: a hysterically crying, tantrum-throwing, screaming two-year-old) heading towards you. If you are anything like me, all at once you throw the first snack you can find, a pacifier and an iPad at that child in response. And relish the fleeting moment of peace that decision brings.
In January we celebrated my older daughter’s fifth birthday. I can count on one hand the number of “mistakes” that I have made in these years of raising her. I think we watch too much television (though, to be fair, that girl is pretty brilliant and often credits her favorite shows with teaching her the random facts she knows). I know that her diet is nowhere near as balanced as it should be (though, show me a five-year-old child’s whose is and I’ll be shocked). And she sucks her thumb. Her birthday in January was supposed to mark the first day of trying to get her to really stop – it's not going well.
But there was one parenting decision that I made that – while not major – completely backfired in my face. And it was because of one of my definitive pre-parenting statements.
“I won’t have one of those kids who is obsessed with, like, a blanky or a stuffed animal or lovey…”
When Rebecca was born, she was given all sorts of cuddly friends. A clear early favorite was the Angel Dear lovey – an impossibly soft, perfectly huggable small blanket with a stuffed animal head on it. They come in all different varieties – farm animals, safari animals, pets – they have them all.
And so do we! Because this was my brilliant parenting move – in order to keep her from being obsessed with one particular one, I would get five or six different ones and keep switching them out. It was perfect! She would love them all and not care which one she had at any given moment… until…
She needed them all. At every given moment. So instead of being the kid who was obsessed with like, a blanky or stuffed animal or lovey… she was the girl addicted to five of them. She could tell instantly if one was missing and which one it was.
“I need Ducky. Where’s Lamby? Hi Hippo! Ooh ooh ah ah Monkey! Yay Munchy (that’s the giraffe)!”
Sigh. It was exhausting keeping track of five best friends. And we didn’t always do such a good job, resulting in endless hunts for them, a situation any parent of a child who has a favorite toy will recall with a wince.
To combat the possibility of losing one of your child’s best friends, you do what any normal parent does – you buy a backup. Or two. And if your child has five best friends, as mine did? Yes, that means ten backups. Two of each of five animals. I should have bought stock in Angel Dear when she was born.
And I truly didn’t think she knew the difference. I assumed that one Lamby was as good as the other, and she never really seemed to mind which she had. And best of all? The backups were hidden in the top drawer that she couldn’t reach, so she knew nothing of them!
Until one night putting her to bed when she was two-and-a-half, when she asked for Lamby. I scrambled looking for him and was thrilled to find him peeking out from under her crib. “Here you go!”
She grabbed him, popped her thumb in her mouth, rolled over and rubbed his soft fleecey material between her fingers in her special way. I was about to turn off the light and leave the room when she sat up.
“No, Mommy.”
“No what?”
“Not this Lamby. I want the other.”
I froze, unsure of what to say next.
“You want the… what?”
She looked straight at me, holding Lamby out, and said, “I like the one with the longer nose better. Just open the top drawer and give it to me.”
And in that one moment, I accepted humble defeat, gave her the other Lamby, and walked out of her room, hysterically laughing.
