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This week my cousin Erin gave birth to her first sweet baby boy, Emerson. Her Facebook post last night was precious: “Another successful feeding and heading back to sleep soon! Day 1 was a complete success! Now on to day 2!!!” I couldn’t help but smile.

I remember each and every “Day 1” but so many of the subsequent days run together in one big blur of diapers, spit up, potty training, temper tantrums, giggle fests, bike rides, printing lessons, craft projects, rainy days, party days and the unending cycle of dishes and laundry.

I was pretty abysmal at keeping baby books. Hannah has one, filled out pretty well through her first year. Gabe’s is a little less thorough. Elisha has one and I’m fairly sure I hit the highlights, at least through his first tooth. Ezra probably has one. Does that make me a bad mother?

I was a terrible scrapbooker too. I remember when that became super popular in the 90’s and all of my friends were producing these pastel toned masterpieces on acid-free paper for their precious children. All I managed to produce was the children themselves. We used plenty of glue and stickers, but the end result was nothing you’d want to save.

There is another kind of book that we’ve made for our kids that matters to them far more than their baby books, or early picture albums. We call them “life books” and it’s not a project we could have tackled alone. (more…)

“Hold my hand; listen, please; sit back; buckle up; come here; halt; quiet; don’t kick; load up; line up; single file; wait your turn; be patient; look me in the eye; time out!”

With all the buckling, strapping down, forced wiping of sticky faces, and tugging sweaters over writhing little bodies, it’s no wonder parenting in the early years feels like one long lesson in child restraining tactics.

While there are moments when restraining your child is important for his own safety (toddlers on the train platform, for example), far too many parents miss valuable opportunities for allowing children small doses of independence. (more…)

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“Just wait until he’s a teenager!”

That phrase, always served with a generous portion of condescension, was dished out most often during my children’s toddler years, when boundary pushing occurred loudly and publically every 3.2 seconds.

But even as a young mother I had a rebellious streak, so instead of burying my head in the building block bin, I vowed to prove the “Just-waiters” wrong.

Now that I have a teen and a tween, I can muster some sympathy for the mother who, having missed countless opportunities to win her child’s heart, completely surrendered during the teen years—blaming the broken relationship on the palatable myth of teenage rebellion.

Moody, unsure of themselves, with plenty of money for entertainment, turning more to Facebook for guidance than to parents, breaking every house rule, distancing themselves from mom and dad—this is the typical notion of the average teen.

I don’t buy it. (more…)