Toddler Mom Quotes

Imagine a life-form whose brainpower is to ours as ours is to a chimpanzee’s. To such a species, our highest mental achievements would be trivial. Their toddlers, instead of learning their ABCs on Sesame Street, would learn multivariable calculus on Boolean Boulevard. Our most complex theorems, our deepest philosophies, the cherished works of our most creative artists, would be projects their schoolkids bring home for Mom and Dad to display on the refrigerator door.

I don’t for one moment believe that these folks believe that it is better for an infant or a toddler to be in day care than to be home with Mom. I do believe that these folks feel guilty for not wanting to be at home, so they devise a new reality to compensate for their uncomfortable feelings.

Dear Asshole Whisperer, I try to feed my toddler reasonably healthy food but still feel judged by other parents. What should I do? —Mom of Two in Maine Dear Mom of Two, There’s always going to be a parent who you feel is doing a better job than you, but think of it this way: In a zombie apocalypse, kids that smell like kefir and kombucha (i.e., rotting flesh) will get eaten first.

I’m terrible at being one of those moms who can sit in the bleachers or dance studios and make forced small talk with parents who all seem to know (and secretly hate) each other and who never seem to show up in pajamas or mismatched shoes. I’m continually saying something awkward and inappropriate, like “I thought this was just for fun” or “No, actually I don’t think that toddler is too fat for ballet.

So…you're not going to tell me what they mean? C'mon. What's the Hob? Why Forks?” When I stand, I switch to my blatantly rude, you're-an-idiot tone. This is the one that always pisses off my mom. To be sure he's not missing my insult this time, I also cross my arms and speak very slowly like I'm speaking to a toddler. “The Hob is from The Hunger Games books. It's the underground market where the characters trade food and information. Forks would be the town in Twilight. The setting. In boy-speak, Forks equals the planet Tatooine for Star Wars. You know—Anakin Skywalker's childhood home? Or are you not familiar with any global blockbusters? I suppose I could use Sesame Street or Pokémon for a reference—if it would help you understand better?” Bam. That should seal it. I couldn't have sounded more like a total bitch. He nods. “No, I've got it. My bedroom was Tatooine for all of third and fourth grade. Boy-speak…that's funny.” He laughs again, and it sounds warm and—and—not at all offended!

Being the mother of a toddler, my emotions often changed like the channels on the television when my husband is holding the remote: Constantly.

It was like a nightclub rave… at 10 am… for moms and toddlers… in a library.

I occasionally find myself aching for the infant and toddler I’d once known and loved. She’s been replaced now with a little girl who has opinions about her hair, asks her mom to paint her nails, and will soon be spending most of her day at school, under the care of a teacher I have yet to meet. These days, I find myself wishing I could turn back the clock so I could more fully experience London’s first five years: I’d work fewer hours, spend more time playing on the floor with her, and share her wonder as she focuses on the flight path of butterflies. I want London to know how much joy she has added to my life and to tell her that I have done the best I could. I want her to understand that even though her mother has always been with her, I have loved her as much as any father could possibly love a daughter. Why, then, I sometimes wonder, do I feel as if that’s not enough?

That’s why I think how we talk about motherhood, how we think about motherhood, and how we act as mothers matters. Motherhood is hard, but it is good. It’s a gift that we have the privilege of stewarding. As much as we can, our attitudes should reflect that, especially when we’re talking about being a mom to other people. Avoid toxic online mom culture that calls kids and toddlers brats and burdens. It may be sarcasm, but it has an effect on how people see parenting and family. Let Christian moms be the first ones to say: “No, as hard as this is, my baby is a blessing, not a burden.

Mother-daughter relationships can be complicated and fraught with the effects of moments from the past. My mom knew this and wanted me to know it too. On one visit home, I found an essay from the Washington Post by the linguistics professor Deborah Tannen that had been cut out and left on my desk. My mom, and her mom before her, loved clipping newspaper articles and cartoons from the paper to send to Barbara and me. This article was different. Above it, my mom had written a note: “Dear Benny”—I was “Benny” from the time I was a toddler; the family folklore was that when we were babies, a man approached my parents, commenting on their cute baby boys, and my parents played along, pretending our names were Benjamin and Beauregard, later shorted to Benny and Bo. In her note, my mom confessed to doing many things that the writer of this piece had done: checking my hair, my appearance. As a teenager, I was continually annoyed by some of her requests: comb your hair; pull up your jeans (remember when low-rise jeans were a thing? It was not a good look, I can assure you!). “Your mother may assume it goes without saying that she is proud of you,” Deborah Tannen wrote. “Everyone knows that. And everyone probably also notices that your bangs are obscuring your vision—and their view of your eyes. Because others won’t say anything, your mother may feel it’s her obligation to tell you.” In leaving her note and the clipping, my mom was reminding me that she accepted and loved me—and that there is no perfect way to be a mother. While we might have questioned some of the things our mother said, we never questioned her love.

Here’s a fourth principle, one that is more particularly psychological: parents should understand their own capacity to be harsh, vengeful, arrogant, resentful, angry and deceitful. Very few people set out, consciously, to do a terrible job as father or mother, but bad parenting happens all the time. This is because people have a great capacity for evil, as well as good—and because they remain willfully blind to that fact. People are aggressive and selfish, as well as kind and thoughtful. For this reason, no adult human being—no hierarchical, predatory ape—can truly tolerate being dominated by an upstart child. Revenge will come. Ten minutes after a pair of all-too-nice-and-patient parents have failed to prevent a public tantrum at the local supermarket, they will pay their toddler back with the cold shoulder when he runs up, excited, to show mom and dad his newest accomplishment. Enough embarrassment, disobedience, and dominance challenge, and even the most hypothetically selfless parent will become resentful. And then the real punishment will begin. Resentment breeds the desire for vengeance. Fewer spontaneous offers of love will be offered, with more rationalizations for their absence. Fewer opportunities for the personal development of the child will be sought out. A subtle turning away will begin. And this is only the beginning of the road to total familial warfare, conducted mostly in the underworld, underneath the false façade of normality and love.

The first thing he taught me was how to make love. 　　Before you laugh, know that I’d always hated that phrase. It sounded so corny, so old. Hippies made love. People my mom’s age, though I preferred to believe I was an immaculate conception. 　　People my age hooked up, fucked, had sex. We didn’t attach frilly ideas of oneness and eternity to a basic biological act. Most of us were from single-parent homes. Those who weren’t wished they were when their parents screamed and beat the shit out of each other. We grew up sexualized, from toddler beauty pageants to the constant reminder that adults were waiting to lure us into vans with candy. The invention of MMS gave us a platform for the distribution of amateur porn. 　　That’s a lot of conditioning to break through.

Motherhood is hard, and no mom in the history of the entire world has been a perfect mama—no one. With that in mind, even in your worst mama moments, cut yourself some slack. God has used some of the hardest times I’ve had as a mom—times when I wasn’t sure if I would survive the day, much less eighteen years—to show me how to depend on Him. And in order for God to use these trials to help me learn and grow, I have to let go of them and give them to God. Only He can make our paths—and our children’s paths—straight.

The experiment is called the Strange Situation, and you can see variations of it on the Internet. A mother and her toddler are in an unfamiliar room. A few minutes later, a researcher enters and the mother exits, leaving the youngster alone or with the researcher. Three minutes later, the mother comes back. Most children are initially upset at their mother’s departure; they cry, throw toys, or rock back and forth. But three distinct patterns of behavior emerge when mother and child are reunited—and these patterns are dictated by the type of emotional connection that has developed between the two. Children who are resilient, calm themselves quickly, easily reconnect with their moms, and resume exploratory play usually have warm and responsive mothers. Youngsters who stay upset and nervous and turn hostile, demanding, and clingy when their moms return tend to have mothers who are emotionally inconsistent, blowing sometimes hot, sometimes cold. A third group of children, who evince no pleasure, distress, or anger and remain distant and detached from their mothers, are apt to have moms who are cold and dismissive. Bowlby and Ainsworth labeled the children’s strategies for dealing with emotions in relationships, or attachment styles, secure, anxious, and avoidant, respectively.

If Mom is convinced that ballet lessons are a must, she should take them. Although it may look odd to see a thirty-year old woman hang- ing onto a bar and flinging a slightly plump leg in the air, the sight is not as pathetic as seeing her seven-year old daughter grimly going through such motions just to please her mother, when she would prefer to be at home designing new doll clothes. Although some parents are never quite ready to accept this fact, the child is not one of our possessions. We don’t own him; we never will. We gave birth to his body; he may share some of our physical characteristics; but he does not inherit our desires. He’s a different person, a separate entity, with his own likes and dislikes. It’s a grave mistake to try to override a child’s power of choice in what he wants to be and do. Some parents do this in an attempt to live their lives through the child.

So let’s imagine for now that our love for our children and our thankfulness for their existence is a given. Let’s imagine that no one can possibly doubt the depths of our feelings for our sons and daughters. Let’s imagine that everyone in the world knows exactly how much we love all the many things there are to love about our children and the relationships we have with them. Let’s imagine that we are all most definitely Good Moms, and, with all that on our side, admit for a moment what we don’t love. I’ll give you my list, you add your own. I don’t love every minute of going to the playground. I don’t love every minute of going to the museums. I don’t love every minute of watching Elmo. I don’t love every minute of having to wake up early in the morning. I don’t love every minute of having interrupted sleep at night. I don’t love every minute of having to be the one to make the rules and the one who must enforce them. I don’t love every minute of laundry. I don’t love every minute of changing diapers. I don’t love every minute of having to endure the stares of people when my child freaks out in public. I don’t love every minute of making food that my kid ends up throwing on the floor. I don’t love every minute that I have the Barney song stuck in my head. I don’t love every minute of having to reason with a tantrum-throwing toddler. I don’t love every minute of being peed on, pooped on, and thrown-up on. I don’t love every minute of weaning. I don’t love every minute of sidewalk chalk. I don’t love every minute of having to pick up the blocks fifteen times a day. I don’t love every minute of putting my life on hold. I don’t love every minute of tantrums. I don’t love every minute of going to story time at the library. I HATE the Teletubbies. I don’t love every minute of being chained to someone else’s routine. I don’t love every minute of not being able to go to the bathroom without company. I don’t love every minute of being a mother.

The neighborhood’s only cheerful sound I usually sleep through: the morning coos of toddlers. A troop of them, round-faced and multilayered, walk to some daycare hidden even farther in the rat’s nest of streets behind me, each clutching a section of a long piece of rope trailed by a grown-up. They march, penguin-style, past my house every morning, but I have not once seen them return. For all I know, they troddle around the entire world and return in time to pass my window again in the morning. Whatever the story, I am attached to them. There are three girls and a boy, all with a fondness for bright red jackets—and when I don’t seen them, when I oversleep, I actually feel blue. Bluer. That’d be the word my mom would use, not something as dramatic as depressed. I’ve had the blues for twenty-four years. I couldn't get up, even when I heard the kids make their sleepy duckwalk past my house. I pictured them in big rubber rainboots, clomping along, leaving rounded footprints in the March muck, and I still couldn't move.

The analogy that has helped me most is this: in Hurricane Katrina, hundreds of boat-owners rescued people—single moms, toddlers, grandfathers—stranded in attics, on roofs, in flooded housing projects, hospitals, and school buildings. None of them said, I can’t rescue everyone, therefore it’s futile; therefore my efforts are flawed and worthless, though that’s often what people say about more abstract issues in which, nevertheless, lives, places, cultures, species, rights are at stake. They went out there in fishing boats and rowboats and pirogues and all kinds of small craft, some driving from as far as Texas and eluding the authorities to get in, others refugees themselves working within the city. There was bumper-to-bumper boat-trailer traffic—the celebrated Cajun Navy—going toward the city the day after the levees broke. None of those people said, I can’t rescue them all. All of them said, I can rescue someone, and that’s work so meaningful and important I will risk my life and defy the authorities to do it. And they did. Of course, working for systemic change also matters—the kind of change that might prevent calamities by addressing the climate or the infrastructure or the environmental and economic injustice that put some people in harm’s way in New Orleans in the first place.

was just a toddler when my grandmother passed away, and Gamma filled the void by visiting frequently. She never got married, so we became her family. She was a great help to Mom and took care of me, especially when she had to work the late shifts. Gamma pampered me, which was the best part. But at the same time, she sheltered me, perhaps too much.

Even after moving to her new home, Sharon frequently talked to her foster mom on the telephone. In both of these cases, the parents took care to try to follow routines that were familiar to their children, and to talk with them daily about their former caregivers.

Sabrina’s case is a good example. Sabrina had lived with her foster mother, Carol, since early infancy. To help Sabrina prepare for her pending adoption, Carol showed her pictures and talked frequently about the family she would soon be joining. Letters, telephone calls, and visits preceded Sabrina’s transfer to her adoptive home. Sabrina observed Carol and her adoptive parents talking and laughing together as they jointly cared for her for a week prior to her transfer. She left Carol’s home with an album full of pictures of herself surrounded by her foster and adoptive families—tangible evidence of the continuity and “connectedness” of her life experiences. Sabrina also brought her favorite toys, blanket, and eating utensils with her when she moved home. During her first weeks at home, she frequently talked to her foster mom on the telephone. Carol continues to be an important extended family member. At age five Sabrina’s cognitive, language, physical, and emotional developmental milestones are all right on target.

Looking ahead at continuing transition needs The lives of adoptive parents and children are always in transition. Helping adopted children connect their beginnings to their present lives with us doesn’t end with the transition at placement. Parents need to deal with adoption related issues over and over again as their children reach new levels of cognitive and language development. Sometime between the ages of 24 and 36 months, many children will begin correcting Mom or Dad if they make a mistake or forget part of their Lifestory. Shortly thereafter children begin to fill in factual names, places, and events when invited to share in the story telling. Preschoolers’ reasoning is very limited and most do not sense anything unusual about being adopted. My three-and-a-half-year-old adopted nephew announced proudly, “I’m adopted.” He then added, “And there’s a kitty growing in my tummy.” Children spontaneously announce to the store clerk such things as, “My mommy came to get me in a big airplane” or “I’m from Peru!” At this age, parents should continue to build the factual foundation that will help full comprehension later on and instill a sense of pride and positive feelings about adoption.

Another wonderful labyrinthine stimulation strategy for the toddler is swinging in a bucket-seat-type toddler swing. Mom or Dad should stand in front of, rather than behind, their child as they push, so they can incorporate smiles and tactile stimulation into the motion activity. The child can be hugged or even kissed each time she swings toward her parent. Most toddlers also enjoy pretending to be “caught” by their parent with each swing. Another version of swinging can be done by both parents together, with one behind and one in front.

Alternatives to time-out Isolating children for a period of time has become a popular discipline strategy advocated by many child psychologists and pediatricians. However, newly adopted toddlers seem to be more upset than helped by time-outs. Time-outs are intended to provide an opportunity for both parents and children to calm down and change their behaviors, but it isn’t effective for children who do not have self-calming strategies. Isolation can be traumatic for a toddler who is struggling with grief and/or attachment, and so perceives time-out as further rejection. If the child becomes angrier or more withdrawn as a result of being timed-out, try another strategy. One alternative is for parents to impose a brief time-out on themselves by temporarily withdrawing their attention from their child. For example, the parent whose child is throwing toys stops playing, looks away, and firmly tells the child, “I can’t continue playing until you stop throwing your toys.” Sitting passively next to the child may be effective, especially if the child previously was engaged in an enjoyable activity with the parent. Another alternative to parent enforced time-outs is self-determined time-outs, where the child is provided the opportunity to withdraw from a conflict voluntarily or at least have some input into the time-out arrangement. The parent could say, “I understand that you got very upset when you had to go to your room yesterday after you hit Sara. Can you think of a different place you would like to go to calm down if you feel like getting in a fight?” If the child suggests going out on the porch, the next time a battle seems to be brewing, Mom or Dad can say, “Do you need to go outside to the porch and calm down before we talk more?” Some children eventually reach the level of self-control where they remove themselves from a volatile situation without encouragement from Mom or Dad. These types of negotiations usually work better with older preschoolers or school-age children than they do with toddlers because of the reasoning skills involved. As an alternative to being timed-out, toddlers also can be timed-in while in the safety of a parent’s lap. Holding allows parents to talk to their child about why she’s being removed from an activity. For example, the toddler who has thrown her truck at the cat could be picked up and held for a few minutes while being told, “I can’t let you throw your toys at Misty. That hurts her, and in our family we don’t hurt animals. We’ll sit here together until you’re able to calm down.” Calming strategies could incorporate music, back rubs, or encouraging the child to breathe slowly. Objects that children are misusing should also be removed. For example, in the situation just discussed, the truck could be timed-out to a high shelf. If parents still decide to physically remove their child for a time-out, it should never be done in a way or place that frightens a toddler. Toddlers who have been frightened in the past by closed doors, dark rooms, or a particular room such as a bathroom should never be subjected to those settings. I know toddlers who, in their terror, have literally trashed the furniture and broken windows when they were locked in their rooms for a time-out. If parents feel a time-out is essential, it should be very brief, and in a location where the child can be supervised.

Moms of babies and toddlers often have no idea how much their children are soaking in early truths about the love of God … even through a song! The sketch they later develop of both God and themselves can be dramatically colored by the crayons of influence they're given in those primary years. We wonder if we're wasting our breath on such young ears and don't see a correlation when our children develop an affection for God later. Our early encouragements are not guarantees, but when we lead them by the hand down the path, they'll know where to find Him long after they've let go of us. Mercifully, God makes Himself discoverable to those who search even if the jungle is deep and the path totally unfamiliar. He tenderly offers them His own hand.

In the late seventies, RBG was interviewed for a book called Women Lawyers at Work, which devoted many paragraphs to her work-life balance. The author, Elinor Porter Swiger, seemed eager to find her subject torn or in crisis. Swiger noted that Jane had once rebelliously announced she was going to be a stay-at-home mom like Evelyn Ginsburg. And Swiger pressed RBG for her reaction to a terrifying incident when James was two and a housekeeper found him screaming, with Drano on his lips. RBG vividly described rushing to the hospital: “Deep burns distorted his face, charred lips encircled his mouth—a tiny, burnt-out cavern ravaged by the lye.” Swiger wondered: “How did Ruth feel during this prolonged ordeal? As a working mother, did she agonize with regret that she had not been there when it happened? The answer is a qualified ‘yes.’” Then RBG paused to consider it. She said the real mistake had been “not putting the Drano out of the toddler’s reach.” Swiger wrote, not entirely admiringly, “It is a part of Ruth Ginsburg’s success that she can view this incident in a relatively objective way.

would never, ever say it to their face—as mentioned, we are way above the Mommy Wars. But still. We think they have it easier. Every day while we are living our lives of servitude, they go to a place, in real clothes, where they are paid to sit comfortably among adults and think entire, complete, punctuated thoughts. Often this place has free coffee round the clock and cake on their birthdays. Yes, work is work, and no, not every day is a joyfest. But here is what I did not realize when I handed in my resignation at the community college and became a professional mom: if you work outside the home, for eight or so back-to-back hours every weekday, you wipe zero butts that do not belong to you. And to be clear, butt wiping is pretty much the easiest part of stay-at-home-mom work. I would gladly wipe ten more butts per day if it did away with even just the raisin-related tantrums. If it meant I didn’t have to stand outside in every kind of weather saying, “I see! I’m watching!” while one of a succession of toddlers does absolutely nothing of interest for the tenth time in a row. If you have a full-time job outside the home, that means that for eight solid hours every day, no one asks you to go down a wet slide or starts crying

There’s laughing, music, and waves. I must be a toddler, because Mom’s holding my hands, leading me to the water’s edge. The ocean’s foam kisses my chubby knees. I’ve remembered bits of the dream through the years. I see a bonfire on the beach. My Mom is there, and a man playing a guitar, singing. Even though the man doesn’t look like my dad, I know it is him. It must be him. People sometimes look different in dreams. In this one, he has a head of curly hair. It’s a good dream, because every time I think about it I feel warm all over.

Our child has better things to do. Sometimes not following directions is a good thing, because it reflects our child’s healthy, delightful instinct to learn the way young children learn best — through play, exploration, and following inner-direction: My daughter is 2.5 years old and when we go to activities (structured playgroups, mom/toddler stuff), she does not follow direction (or very rarely will follow direction). Maybe she will to a degree, but generally speaking, she is the wild flower that is rolling around, running, and dancing circles in the big open room while all the other kids are sitting quietly by their moms’ side…. should I be concerned about this, or leave her to her own exploration (it’s winter here so the big open space to run is a real treat!), or keep on trying to get her to listen to the ‘animator’ who is trying to run a session? – Lenore Hmm… Listen to an “animator” or roll, run, and dance? That’s a tough one.

Emotional awareness refers to recognizing and identifying your emotions, and being sensitive to the presence of other people’s feelings. You don’t need to afraid of showing your feelings in front of your kids. Even anger has its place as long as it’s expressed constructively and respectfully. If you hold back from showing emotions, then your kids will learn, “Dad and Mom don’t have these emotions, neither should I.

To introduced myself to you in this nightmare story.I'm a victim of rape on my childhood stage l'd experienced rape in my life the victim were my sibblings and community members as I told you that on my growth. My mum was upsent it were only my dad, sister and brother in my house my dad were living with heart condition desease than my mom choose to hunting work live us with dad on my toddler stage hape you imagine the situation.By telling you this I don'nt expected your pitty or. being sorry for me but I'm going somewhere I want to speak with someone who condem,look him or herself down lost confident with same and other stuation.There's hope if l managed to survive on my situations you can to.God favoured me my introduced himself to me on my teenage stage ashored me that he love me and transformed my life mostly healed me day by day couse this situations is deep it a proccess to be heal in it l use to say it like living in fire where you need to live with God himself in it.Why I say this? allow me to say it some sort of journey of chosen people.The reason is other people take it easy as we have different categories of help and high science source to cure this the truth is it can't why?Rape destroy the whole life of person as human divided into 3 part which is body,soul spirit as I experience it not once several times till I reach the stage where I can rescure myself by confronting the victims,shortly it spoiled my whole 3 part you see I needed my creater to rebuid me and that not heppening overnight I personally say rape victims needed. Lifesaviour and Lifeguide who is God himself to rescue and guide you in life journey course this thing is a beast that never die if you never experience it you'll never understand it thanks for your trying don't need to.what I need is your support,how? pray for me,not feeling sorry,give hope,listen me,never judge ,stop gossip rather ask the ask,allow me to take my own decisions, give me time,be partient of me,avoid to remind me my past,believe in me,be careful on showing me my weekest sport rather put me on the spot where I can see for myself, give me chance of proving myself. This is what I can do;Forgive,move on,not forget,love other people not trust them 100% ,(truely fall in love conditional),Over protective while others says I'm selfish,depend on God's hand 100%, sensetive person, enjoy my space,help others, prayful person,other people says I'm moody person when I separate myself to meet with God in his present,can think wise things and do big things,focus on something that can keep my mind busy to escape on thinking about past,fight to change, enjoy to spend time with fruitfull freinds, rocking on doing my own business, on my own space,Not easy to accept people in my space till I know him or her better,enjoy nature things,love to be me,layalt pertionate & kind person.

Once, after Briar tried zucchini for the first time, Emira stood in front of her high chair and asked the toddler if she liked it. Briar chewed with her mouth open and looked all over the room as she articulated her response. "Mira? how, how...because--how do you know when you like it? Who says when you like it?" Emira was fairly certain that the caregiver-approved answer was something like, You'll figure it out, or, It'll make sense when you're older. But Emira wiped the toddler's chin and said, "That's a really good question. We should ask your mom." She honestly meant it. Emira wished that someone would tell her what she like doing best.

grand final had faded into the background of my brain and I was starting to get excited about going on the roller coaster and the Batman ride. The last time we had gone to Movie World I was only a toddler and had been too little to go on anything scary. They had little statues of movie characters next to each ride and if you weren’t as tall as they were, you couldn’t go on the ride. To be honest, back then I was too scared to go on anything anyway. Mom said when they tried to get me on the Scooby Doo ride, little China men would have heard me screaming in China. I think the only ride I went on all day was the merry-go-round. Even then I didn’t dare go on top of a horse that bobbed up and down. I sat in the safety of a stationary boat.              But this time I was going to go on everything. Mom said because it was a school day there might not be many queues so we could have as many turns as we wanted on everything. When we were finally at the ticket box I felt a stray smile sneaking up all over my face and taking over my grumpy frown. I tried to keep feeling sad about the playoffs, but the lure of Movie World was starting to take over me like a parasitic alien dominating his victim. No matter how I tried to fight the betrayal, the feelings of thrilling

Sometimes I slow it down, but really all it takes is noticing it to come back to where I am. Use the five senses: One of the easiest ways for me to come back to what’s happening right in front of me is through my five senses. If I take a moment to notice what I’m seeing, smelling, touching, hearing, and tasting, I’m instantly right where I am and there’s plenty going on to keep me engaged. Come back to the body: The breath and the sense are really part of this, but overall if I remind myself to come back into my body I find myself in the present moment. I feel my butt on the chair. I notice the temperature of the room. I feel how good it feels to have my toddler’s warm little body in my lap or to have Mike’s hand in mine. And suddenly here I am: right here, where I am. And I don’t want to be any other place.

Excluding the language barrier, the worst thing in Brazil is being a woman in a very male dominated, looks obsessed culture. I thought the United States was bad when it came to presenting girls with unrealistic body expectations. Brazil is so much worse. Now that I’m raising a daughter, I realize just how bad it is. All girls are called princessa and told not to cry because it’s ugly (Não chora! Vai ficar feia!). I could not find baby girls clothes in any other colour than pink. Toddlers go with their moms to the salons and get mani-pedis. On billboards, in magazines, everywhere you see advertisements for plastic surgery that you can pay for in 20 instalments! Brazil has more plastic surgeries per capita than any country in the world. It will be an uphill battle to raise a girl who does not think makeup is necessary for the gym.

Figure 2.1 Cortical connections over two years adapted from Conel The top row shows the baby’s cortex at birth, then at one month and at three months. They all look about the same, don’t they? But look what happens at six months (bottom left box): the number of cell bodies remains the same, but the number of connections has multiplied exponentially. The connections grow so quickly in the first three years of life that neuroscientists call it neural exuberance. Neural exuberance! The name is well earned: The baby’s brain makes 24 million new connections every minute, and this continues for the first three years of life. Each neuron may be connected to 1,000 other neurons — that multiplies out to 100 trillion possible connections between neurons, more than the number of stars in the universe. This high level of connectivity between brain cells leads to the cortex of a three-year-old being twice as thick as an adult’s! As connections are created, new abilities emerge. For example, when connections grow in Broca’s area — speech production — around six months, then children begin to speak. Around nine months of age, the frontal areas (behind the forehead) become more interconnected, and that’s when most children develop object permanence: knowing that objects continue to exist even when they are out of sight. Before object permanence develops, when Mom is out of sight she’s no longer in the baby’s universe. This is why young babies are inconsolable when Mom leaves. Once they start to develop object permanence, babies can hold on to an internal image of Mom. This is about the age that babies play peek-a-boo. Mom disappears when she puts the blanket over her head, but the nine-month-old knows Mom’s still there even if he can’t see her. The infant tests his “knowledge” when he pulls the blanket off and sees — sure enough! —Mom really is there! What is the use of so many brain connections in the first three years of life? These connections are ready-made highways for information to travel along. The toddlers’ ability to quickly adapt and learn is possible because they have a vast number of brain connections available for making sense of the world. Thanks to neural exuberance, the child does not need to create connections on the spur of the moment to make meaning of each new experience; myriad connections are already there. Pruning of connections The number of connections remains high from age 3 until age 10, when the process of neural pruning begins. Connections that are being used remain; others get absorbed back into the neuron. It’s similar to pruning a bush. After pruning, individual branches get thicker, fruit is more abundant, and the whole bush gets fuller. This seems a little counter-intuitive, but pruning works because it allows the plant’s limited resources to go to its strongest parts; water and nutrients are no longer wasted on spindly branches and dried-out roots. Similarly, when unused brain connections are pruned, neural resources are more available for brain areas that are being used. This results in a more useful and efficient brain that’s tailor-made to meet each individual’s needs. This process of pruning occurs in all brain areas. Figure 2.2 presents findings published by Sowell and associates. They measured Magnetic Resonance Imaging in 176 normal subjects from age 7 to 87 years. The x-axes in these graphs present years from 10 to 90 years. Notice there is a common pattern of decreasing connections in all brain areas. In some brain areas this change is steeper, such as in frontal areas, but is flatter in other areas such as temporal areas in the left hemisphere.

These are their death records, names, dates that they died, how old they were when they died,” Yvonne said. “And, if all the information was recorded, you also see the name of their mom. Most of the children here died as toddlers—died very young.” She scanned the names on the granite slabs. “Most of them died of malnutrition and disease. “We do know, through others, that sometimes enslaved women would kill their own children, because they didn’t want them to grow up in the system. But we can’t officially say that here, because we don’t know why these children died. But that is something that we do see in this history: women making this really, really unimaginable decision because they understand, especially if they have young girls, what it would be like for them.

When we feel that our environment must be "just so" in order to have fellowship with God, any wild-card elements inherit the name "Interruption." A toddler's plea for help with a game is an interruption. The children's early bedtime is an interruption. The baby who refuses to settle down is an interruption. What if God wants fellowship with us right where we are -- even in the commotion of the ordinary life? Most assuredly, he does. Consider how the triune God is working to ensure that you behold his glory throughout your days and nights.

Your child’s frontal cortex is not capable of processing a lot of words while trying to calm down and manage emotion at the same time. Even though the actual words a parent uses may be perfectly logical, the overload results in an angrier, overwhelmed child and an even more frustrated mom or dad.

When I was a newly single mom with a toddler and a newborn, I’d cringe when meeting new people, especially other young parents, none of whom seemed to be anything but blissfully orbiting in their nuclear family unit. I’d dance around any pressures (perceived or real) to reveal my marital status, until I’d burst, and a flood of unprompted details would pour out: “I’m-separated-yes-your-math-is-right-my-ex-moved-out-while-Iwas-pregnant-but-he-had-a-brain-injury-and-destabalized-so-it-is-an-unusual-situation-a-medical-crisis-he’sactually-a-very-good-person-I’m-not-angry-about-that-we-are-all-fine!

Looking with his eyes? Seriously? What else would he look around with?” Trish nonchalantly uses her middle finger to scratch her temple. “Toddlers learn by making connections between the body part and the action.” Vince blinks. “Oh, so talking to a kid like that’s normal?” “Someday I hope to have a conversation where I don’t sound like a character from Star Wars.” “I can see how you’d look forward to that.

But can you imagine if the very first time that you fell after pulling yourself up on that coffee table, a voice came thundering down at you, berating you for falling? “I knew you couldn't do it! You fell, you idiot! I can’t believe you fell. Everyone else is walking, but not you. You are a pathetic little crawler and you always will be!” No, quite the opposite! Toddlers are met with lavish praise at each minor progression, even steps in the general direction of progress. When the little one pulls herself up, she gets applause. Mom grabs the video camera and calls the grandparents. Can you imagine how different—and by different, I mean better—this journey would be if with every advancement you made, every small, wobbly step you took in the direction toward Hunger Directed Eating (however imperfect it was), you lavished praise, delighted wonderment, and encouragement upon yourself?

1. Give your toddler some large tubular pasta and a shoelace.  Show her how to thread the shoelace through the pasta. 2. Take an empty long wrapping paper tube and place one end on the edge of the sofa and the other end on the floor.  Give him a small ball such as a Ping Pong ball to roll down the tube.   3. Give her some individually wrapped toilet tissues, some boxes of facial tissue or some small tins of food such as tomato paste.  Then let her have fun stacking them.     4. Wrap a small toy and discuss what might be inside it.  Give it to him to unwrap. Then rewrap as he watches.  Have him unwrap it again.    5. Cut  such fruits as strawberries and bananas into chunks.  Show her how to slide the chunks onto a long plastic straw.  Then show her how you can take off one chunk at a time, dip it into some yogurt and eat it.   6. Place a paper towel over a water-filled glass.  Wrap a rubber band around the top of the glass to hold the towel in place.  Then place a penny on top of the paper towel in the centre of the glass.  Give your child a pencil to poke holes in the towel until the penny sinks to the bottom of the glass.   7. You will need a small sheet of coarse sandpaper and various lengths of chunky wool.  Show him how to place these lengths of wool on the sandpaper and how the strands stick to it.   8. Use a large photo or picture and laminate it or put it between the sheets of clear contact paper.  Cut it into several pieces to create a puzzle.   9. Give her two glasses, one empty and one filled with water.  Then show her how to use a large eyedropper in order to transfer some of the water into the empty glass.   10. Tie the ends/corners of several scarves together.  Stuff the scarf inside an empty baby wipes container and pull a small portion up through the lid and then close the lid.  Let your toddler enjoy pulling the scarf out of the container.   11. Give your child some magnets to put on a cookie sheet.  As your child puts the magnets on the cookie sheet and takes them off, talk about the magnets’ colours, sizes, etc.   12. Use two matching sets of stickers. Put a few in a line on a page and see if he can match the pattern.  Initially, you may need to lift an edge of the sticker off the page since that can be difficult to do.    13. You will need a piece of thin Styrofoam or craft foam and a few cookie cutters.  Cut out shapes in the Styrofoam with the cookie cutters and yet still keep the frame of the styrofoam intact.  See if your child can place the cookie cutters back into their appropriate holes.        14. Give her a collection of pompoms that vary in colour and size and see if she can sort them by colour or size into several small dishes. For younger toddlers, put a sample pompom colour in each dish.   15. Gather a selection of primary colour paint chips or cut squares of card stock or construction paper.  Make sure you have several of the same colour.  Choose primary colours.  See if he can match the colours.  Initially, he may be just content to play with the colored chips stacking them or making patterns with them.

Once you realize that nothing you do will ever be “enough” because kids are programmed to push boundaries and to always want more, you’re forced to realize that your relationships are not about what you buy or give. They’re about who you are to that other person. You will never do enough, maybe, but you ARE enough.

You are their favorite audience member. You are the balm for every boo-boo, a light when things are darkest, a hero when things are scary, an advocate, a cheerleader, a happy place. You are pure magic.

Mom spoke so self-righteously about going to rehab and cleaning up her act when I was a toddler, and considered her struggle with alcoholism to be such ancient history that she would drink casually with Danko as if it wasn’t a big deal…

According to the National Sleep Foundation, adults 18 to 65 years old need 7 to 9 hours of sleep a night to function optimally. Infants need 12 to 15, toddlers need 11 to 14, preschoolers need 10 to 13, school-age children need 9 to 11, and teens need 8 to 10. After 65 years old, 7 to 8 hours a night are recommended.

And I too have been bamboozled by a tyrannical toddler with the ego of Charlie Sheen and the temper of The Hulk. I am constantly so derailed I think my "give a shit" is now permanently broken.

During the months after a child’s first birthday, I recommend doing time-outs several times a week. That helps your tot learn your I’m not kidding! signal. Your serious tone of voice, disapproving frown, and counting to three will make him remember, Uh-oh … when my mom counts like that I always get grounded.… I better stop!

Why don’t we consider moving in together? While we head for this event?” She gulped. “What?” she asked weakly. “Let’s clear the debt, get Kid Crawford out of the picture, I’ll take on your upkeep rather than Vanni and Paul shouldering your food and board, and we’ll evolve into…” He cleared his throat. “We don’t have to explain anything. People will just say, ‘Dr. Michaels likes that nice pregnant girl.’ We’ll share a house. I’ll be your roommate. You’ll have your own room. But there will be late nights you’re worried about some belly pain or later, night crying from the babies. You don’t want to do that to Vanni and Paul and—” “I was just going to go home to Seattle. To my mom and dad’s.” “They have room for me?” he asked, lifting his fork and arching that brow. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said, slamming down her fork. “You can’t mean to say you plan to just follow me and demand to live with the babies!” “Well, no,” he said. “That would be obsessive. But Jesus, Ab, I don’t want to miss out on anything. Do you know how much babies change from two to six weeks? It just kills me to think you’d take them that far away from me. I mean, they are—” “I know,” she said, frustrated. “Yours.” “Yeah, sweetheart. And they’re also yours. And I swear to God, I will never try to take them away from you. That would be cruel.” He had just aimed an arrow at her sense of justice. The shock of realization must have shown on her face, but he took another bite, had another drink of his beer, smiled. “Live together?” “Here’s how it’ll go if you stay with Vanni and Paul. Toward the end, when you’re sleepless, you’ll be up at night. You’ll be tired during the day, but there will be a toddler around, making noise and crying. And you’ll have all those late pregnancy complaints, worries. Then you’ll have a small guest room stuffed to the ceiling with paraphernalia. Then babies—and grandmothers as additional guests? Newborns, sometimes, cry for hours. They could have Vanni and Paul up all night, walking the floor with you. Nah, that wouldn’t be good. And besides, it’s not Paul’s job to help, it’s mine.” “Where do you suggest we live? Here?” “Here isn’t bad,” he said with a shrug. “But Mel and Jack offered us their cabin. It’s a nice cabin—two bedrooms and a loft, ten minutes from town. Ideally, we should hurry and look around for a place that can accommodate a man, a woman, two newborns, two grandmothers and… We don’t have to make room for the lawyers, do we?” “Very funny,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Abby, we have things to work out every single day. We have to buy cribs, car seats, swings, layette items, lots of stuff—it’s going to take more than one trip to the mall. We have to let the families know there will be babies coming—it’s only fair. We should have dinner together every day, just so we can communicate, catch up. If there’s anything you need or anything you’re worried about, I want to be close so I can help. If you think I’m going to molest you while you’re huge with my babies—” “You know, I’m getting sick of that word, huge.

Drop the attitude, Sour Patch, and talk to me.” “I don’t want to talk to you. I want a couple hours to myself, we can talk after.” “Too bad. You have me with you right now, and I’m not going anywhere. Why do you suddenly not want to have kids? I understand wanting to wait until after we are married, but you kept making it longer and longer until you tell me you don’t know if you want kids. When did this change?” “I don’t know, okay? I. Don’t. Know. You see me with little kids and your mind instantly goes to us having kids. You know where mine went? Exactly where it’s been going the last couple months. The fact that I won’t have my mom there with me when I go through pregnancies, and having babies, and taking care of toddlers, and dealing with teenagers with bad attitudes! I don’t have her here to plan our wedding, she wasn’t there when I bought my dress, she won’t be there for anything, Kash, do you understand that?” Her temper flared out quickly and tears filled her eyes. “I’ve already been having a hard time with that, but today as I sat there and listened to Ava ask your aunts and mom dozens of questions, I realized I’m terrified of not having my mom there to call and ask questions when we have kids. What if I do it all wrong?” “Babe,” I crooned and moved my hands to brush my thumbs across her cheeks. “You’re going to be a great mom whenever we have kids, you won’t do it wrong, and you’ll have my mom there if you have questions.” “I know, and I’ll have Janet. But it won’t be the same.” Her eyes fluttered shut when a few tears dropped down her face and into her hair. “They were supposed to be here for everything.” “I’m so sorry, Rachel.” Squeezing myself between her and the back of the couch, I turned her and pulled her against my chest. I hadn’t known what to expect just then, but I had no idea she’d been struggling with not having her parents here for all of this, and felt like a jackass for not knowing. I should have known. “I’m sorry they aren’t here, but you have a lot of people who love you and are here for you. They won’t make up for your parents, I know that, and so do they. But they’re here for you, and I’m always here for you.” She nodded against my chest and took a shuddering breath in. “And you never leave when you’re upset. Okay? We always talk things out.” “ ’Kay.” Kissing

But there’s more. Babies, toddlers, and teenagers all need Mom for so many reasons. They need us to listen, to discipline, to comfort them. And believe it or not, they need to see us do the menial, boring chores for them because, while these feel trite to us, they communicate to our kids that when it comes to caring for them, no task is unimportant. Our value to our kids is that they need us—to do the big stuff for them and the small stuff, too.

Sharing is one of the most challenging social skills for all children to learn. The limits are so unclear. Moms and Dads don’t share their cars with the neighbors, and yet kids are supposed to. Mom takes a sip of Dad’s soda, but a toddler isn’t supposed to snitch a drink from someone else’s bottle. We share some things but not everything. It is all very confusing.

It’s a well-known fact that professional organizers who have a three-year-old and a toddler get an exemption from perfection.

white bed surrounded by a feast fit for a toddler. We have chicken tenders, macaroni and cheese, mini hamburgers, and the best part, s’mores still warm and gooey. “Here, try one.” She holds out a breaded chicken strip dipped in some sort of sauce. I take a bite. “It’s the most amazing chicken I’ve ever eaten.” I grin happily at her. “Can we never leave this room?” She sighs and chomps on another piece of chicken. “Don’t you miss the mountains? And the stars at night?” I’ve been here for seventy-two hours and I cannot wait to get home. She leans against me. “I do.” “When can you leave?” Picking up the empty plates, I set them on the cart before returning to lie beside her. “Can you delay your flight? I’ll change mine and we’ll catch an afternoon flight tomorrow to Denver. We can leave right after lunch. With my family.” “I’m looking forward to meeting your mom.