children
October 2008 
Thank you, village!
Posted on Oct 4th, 2007
by 
Debi
Debi
I just wanted to take a blog post here to publicly show gratitude for "the village" that is helping me raise my children, and grow myself as a mother and human.
I know there are parents out there who feel strongly that it is important to keep their little children close to them in the early years, not stray too far from their sides, and give them the assurance that their parents will be there no matter what. In fact, I am nearly done reading the infamous nursing mother's bible "Mothering Your Nursing Toddler," and have found this to be the primary message of the book: your young children need their parents all the time, and you'd best sit back and get comfortable, because you are not getting a break for several (or more) years. This is a committment that I admire -- parents willing to identify solely as parents for as long as it takes for their children to separate independently from them. The parents that are doing this are handing themselves to their children as a gift, saying metaphorically, "I am yours. I belong to you."
However, I haven't done this with my children, due to a combination of my inability to do it without building terrible resentment, and another belief that has grown over time -- the belief that my children are richer people for having connected with more than just me and True. The people who have been in our life -- whether in the past, or still there to this day -- have enriched our family, our relationships, and each of us as people.
The neighbors - I've talked about them before, specifically about our neighbors in our old neighborhood, but we have so many more now, and so many of them are young families. The president of the elementary school PTA lives down the street, and her youngest daughter (9) has so charmed Little Shmoo that Shmoo refers to her as "my Claire." The mom spent a morning last spring walking True and I through the elementary school so we could get a sense for whether or not we'd want to send Doodlebug there. Across the street from that is the home of another young family with two daughters, just a little ahead of ours, and that mom has offered to exchange cell phone numbers so that she and I can call on each other for last-minute "can you walk my kid to school today?" emergencies. We often wait for them at the end of the alley so we can all walk together. Next door to us is a lovely young Jewish couple, still without children but hoping for them eventually, who we've adopted for holidays. Their little dog Max is the subject of Shmoo's elated cries of "Max says AAAAOOOOOO!" Thank you, neighbors, for being people with whom we will borrow and lend cups of sugar, spare eggs, spare keys, walks of dogs and children, snow shoveling days, and extra batches of delicious baking.
The teachers - Doodlebug and Shmoo have been blessed with the most delightful and loving, creative and kind daycare and preschool teachers we could imagine, and we are just getting to know the extraordinary kindergarten teacher who is directing Doodlebug's first weeks in elementary school. These teachers have received our daughters into open arms -- quite literally, many days. They have delighted in their personalities, complimented and redirected and adjusted and taught and nurtured them, many days in better ways than I would have at home. Thank you to the teacher who taught Doodlebug to call children "friends" instead of "kids," to the teacher who patiently escorted her to the bathroom every fifteen minutes during difficult phases of potty-learning, to the teachers who told me that she is so appreciative of nice gestures that it makes them want to do more nice things for her. Thank you to Shmoo's first daycare teacher -- who has become our favorite babysitter -- who greeted her with a hug and a delighted squeal every day, who calls me on my cell phone when Shmoo seems out of sorts to her, who brings Shmoo little birthday presents, who tells me when Shmoo says something especially cute. Thank you to her new teacher, who listened carefully to my account of Shmoo's bad dream about a classmate and promised to watch the two of them closely, all while holding Shmoo and apologizing to her for such a sad dream. I could have stayed home full time with my kids -- but then, among other things, we all would have missed these opportunities to know and learn from good people. Thank you, teachers, for being resources, friends, and loving caregivers to our daughters.
The friends - Just as an example, this past weekend, Doodlebug got the same stomach flu that Shmoo had last week, but True was out of town. A friend came by, picked up Shmoo, and took her to the park with her two kids. Then she took Shmoo home with her to play, gave her lunch, and even tried to get her down for a nap -- all while I stayed attached to Doodlebug on the couch, able to completely dedicate myself to her with no distractions. Shmoo went happily -- no tears, no fuss -- because she knows these friends well. Had she stayed home with me, it would have been a difficult day to say the least -- with her getting the bare minimum attention, and likely watching TV for hours. Thank you, friends, for taking her for some fun. We have other wonderful friends with whom we share childcare -- and time together with ALL of us, too -- and ideas, fun, stories, snacks, hugs, and countless other joys of life in a community.
I could dedicate a dozen posts to our family, too -- True's mom and sister and brother-in-law, my brother and his fiance, my parents, and the various great-aunts and cousins who make up our extended family. Our girls go gleefully into the arms of the family they love.
As Doodlebug and Shmoo get older and form more relationships with other children, I think their ability to connect will have come in no small part from being able to trust in the care, love, and attention of people other than their parents. There is no question that we are best and favorite for them, but in our absence, a hug from a friend is acceptable and comfort enough. And that, I think, is a better gift than giving all of myself to them; I've given them trust in a wider world.
I know there are parents out there who feel strongly that it is important to keep their little children close to them in the early years, not stray too far from their sides, and give them the assurance that their parents will be there no matter what. In fact, I am nearly done reading the infamous nursing mother's bible "Mothering Your Nursing Toddler," and have found this to be the primary message of the book: your young children need their parents all the time, and you'd best sit back and get comfortable, because you are not getting a break for several (or more) years. This is a committment that I admire -- parents willing to identify solely as parents for as long as it takes for their children to separate independently from them. The parents that are doing this are handing themselves to their children as a gift, saying metaphorically, "I am yours. I belong to you."
However, I haven't done this with my children, due to a combination of my inability to do it without building terrible resentment, and another belief that has grown over time -- the belief that my children are richer people for having connected with more than just me and True. The people who have been in our life -- whether in the past, or still there to this day -- have enriched our family, our relationships, and each of us as people.
The neighbors - I've talked about them before, specifically about our neighbors in our old neighborhood, but we have so many more now, and so many of them are young families. The president of the elementary school PTA lives down the street, and her youngest daughter (9) has so charmed Little Shmoo that Shmoo refers to her as "my Claire." The mom spent a morning last spring walking True and I through the elementary school so we could get a sense for whether or not we'd want to send Doodlebug there. Across the street from that is the home of another young family with two daughters, just a little ahead of ours, and that mom has offered to exchange cell phone numbers so that she and I can call on each other for last-minute "can you walk my kid to school today?" emergencies. We often wait for them at the end of the alley so we can all walk together. Next door to us is a lovely young Jewish couple, still without children but hoping for them eventually, who we've adopted for holidays. Their little dog Max is the subject of Shmoo's elated cries of "Max says AAAAOOOOOO!" Thank you, neighbors, for being people with whom we will borrow and lend cups of sugar, spare eggs, spare keys, walks of dogs and children, snow shoveling days, and extra batches of delicious baking.
The teachers - Doodlebug and Shmoo have been blessed with the most delightful and loving, creative and kind daycare and preschool teachers we could imagine, and we are just getting to know the extraordinary kindergarten teacher who is directing Doodlebug's first weeks in elementary school. These teachers have received our daughters into open arms -- quite literally, many days. They have delighted in their personalities, complimented and redirected and adjusted and taught and nurtured them, many days in better ways than I would have at home. Thank you to the teacher who taught Doodlebug to call children "friends" instead of "kids," to the teacher who patiently escorted her to the bathroom every fifteen minutes during difficult phases of potty-learning, to the teachers who told me that she is so appreciative of nice gestures that it makes them want to do more nice things for her. Thank you to Shmoo's first daycare teacher -- who has become our favorite babysitter -- who greeted her with a hug and a delighted squeal every day, who calls me on my cell phone when Shmoo seems out of sorts to her, who brings Shmoo little birthday presents, who tells me when Shmoo says something especially cute. Thank you to her new teacher, who listened carefully to my account of Shmoo's bad dream about a classmate and promised to watch the two of them closely, all while holding Shmoo and apologizing to her for such a sad dream. I could have stayed home full time with my kids -- but then, among other things, we all would have missed these opportunities to know and learn from good people. Thank you, teachers, for being resources, friends, and loving caregivers to our daughters.
The friends - Just as an example, this past weekend, Doodlebug got the same stomach flu that Shmoo had last week, but True was out of town. A friend came by, picked up Shmoo, and took her to the park with her two kids. Then she took Shmoo home with her to play, gave her lunch, and even tried to get her down for a nap -- all while I stayed attached to Doodlebug on the couch, able to completely dedicate myself to her with no distractions. Shmoo went happily -- no tears, no fuss -- because she knows these friends well. Had she stayed home with me, it would have been a difficult day to say the least -- with her getting the bare minimum attention, and likely watching TV for hours. Thank you, friends, for taking her for some fun. We have other wonderful friends with whom we share childcare -- and time together with ALL of us, too -- and ideas, fun, stories, snacks, hugs, and countless other joys of life in a community.
I could dedicate a dozen posts to our family, too -- True's mom and sister and brother-in-law, my brother and his fiance, my parents, and the various great-aunts and cousins who make up our extended family. Our girls go gleefully into the arms of the family they love.
As Doodlebug and Shmoo get older and form more relationships with other children, I think their ability to connect will have come in no small part from being able to trust in the care, love, and attention of people other than their parents. There is no question that we are best and favorite for them, but in our absence, a hug from a friend is acceptable and comfort enough. And that, I think, is a better gift than giving all of myself to them; I've given them trust in a wider world.
Access: Public