A Message To My Childless Self

In my reading on early child development, I come across the same message over and over again: children need to connect. In fact, it is a basic human need to want to connect with other people. 

This is a good message for parents but I wish I had taken it to heart before I was a parent. I wouldn't have felt so bad about being lonely. 

Before I had a family I had a blossoming career but I was lonely. And I somehow thought that loneliness was a weakness. 

I went home every night to an empty studio apartment and ate the same boring dinner. I hated Sundays because they always made me somehow feel more single than other days of the week. 

Nowadays a quiet Sunday seems like a luxury. But I'm not so far removed from those Sundays that I can't remember that not only was I lonely, I felt embarrassed about being lonely.

I don't want my children to feel like that. I'm sure they will go through loneliness but I don't want them to compound the loneliness by feeling bad about it. I want them to recognize that Babs really did have it right: People who need people... 

The child psychologists stress to parents how much our children need us, crave our love and attention, and succeed in life because of the safety in their relationships. This doens't end when childhood ends.

I recently read Brain Rules For Baby and the author talks about famous research called the Grant Study. Researchers studied male Harvard undergraduates, all with seemingly bright futures - among them longtime Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee and President John F. Kennedy. The men were interviewed throughout their lives and guess what the biggest predictor of happiness was? Relationships! The author writes: 

"After nearly 75 years, the only consistent finding comes right out of It’s a Wonderful Life. Successful friendships, the messy bridges that connect friends and family, are what predict people’s happiness as they hurtle through life. Friendships are a better predictor than any other single variable. By the time a person reaches middle age, they are the only predictor. Says Jonathan Haidt, a researcher who has extensively studied the link between socialization and happiness: 'Human beings are in some ways like bees. We have evolved to live in intensely social groups, and we don’t do as well when freed from hives.' The more intimate the relationship, the better. A colleague of Vaillant’s showed that people don’t gain access to the top 10 percent of the happiness pile unless they are involved in a romantic relationship of some kind." 

Sobering, isn't it? It makes me appreciate my relationships and want to invest more in them on a daily basis. It also helps me forgive myself for feeling a bit empty without them.

I don't want to sound like one of those obnoxious women who swear that their lives were meaningless before their marriage and family. That isn't true. I was happy and I found healthy and satisfying ways to use my time. But if I'm honest, there was also an element of emptiness too. 

I wish I could go back and tell my 20something self not to feel bad about that. I would say, "Natali, it is okay to be lonely. You're supposed to feel lonely. A beautiful family will come in its own time and there will be a lot of chaos so just enjoy the silence in the meantime. Oh and go out to eat more often. You will not be able to enjoy restaurants the same way once you have kids so go out to eat at nice places - even if you have to go alone." 

Empathy For Daddy

I sometimes have this notion that my husband Clayton skips off to work to the tune of Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah. While I am at home with the babies, I visualize that he is frolicking down the hallways at work, whistling, high fiving coworkers, peacefully reading the day's news with a warm cup of coffee. 

I have these thoughts while I am up to my elbows in children. I most likely have not brushed my teeth and probably have spit-up dried in my hair like Something About Mary.

All right for some! I think to myself. 

When I have this vision, I can be less kind to him when he comes home. If he doesn't immediately take a baby off of my hip, I think he's being selfish or doesn't appreciate what I do for our family. 

Then I realize two things: 1) I'm feeling sorry for myself; and 2) I sometimes do not practice empathy for my husband the way I do for my kids. 

I was thinking about this while reading my book club book, Raising An Emotionally Intelligent Child. There is an entire chapter about children of marital discord and one line in particular struck me about practicing empathy for your spouse. Empathy is one of the most emphasized tenets of this book and the author mentions how easy it is to forget to practice in your marriage.  

I've been thinking about this a lot. Clayton surely doesn't prance off to work with impunity. He has to wake up at 3:30 a.m. He has to work hard. Very hard. He has challenges and concerns of his own in addition to my concerns about our family. It's not as if he waltzes out of the house thinking, "Have fun getting pooped on, honey! Sucker!" 

This kind of perspective is important, especially for women who feel that the division of labor is far from fair. Life isn't fair and keeping score is pointless but realizing that we are both trying hard is poignant. 

So today instead of pawning a child off on him as soon as he walked in the door, I smiled at him and let him unload his backpack. And the next time I feel jealous that he doesn't have to go to the bathroom while a toddler tries to paint the bathroom walls with makeup brushes, I will do my best to curb the jealousy or resentment. This life is my choice and I am lucky, not imprisoned for goodness sakes! 

It's easy to forget these little things but important to try to remember them. 

The Diaper Bag Metaphor

Confession: Sometimes I resent my diaper bag. It feels like a ball and chain, representing the fancy-free lifestyle I no longer have. 

Ever wonder why women are expected to carry all "the stuff?" Why don't men carry "the stuff?" 

I had an epiphany about this recently while reading Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom by Christiane Northrup. She says: 

The uterus and ovaries [are]...both literally and figuratively creative space, out of which women can produce babies, relationships, money, careers, novels, insights, and other creative or artistic works. 

When I think of the uterus as potential space, I also think of what we as women are usually expected to 'store' in there. A slang term for the uterus is 'the bag,' and as humans who have or have had a uterus, we are also the ones who carry all the stuff that others don't want to carry. Women who are married and have children often notice that their children give them - not their husband - the half-eaten food, gum wrappers, and other garbage that they no longer want to carry. 

This is a fascinating way to think of the diaper bag! It is an extension of pregnancy - a continuation of the way we "carry" our children. We carry their "stuff!" 

Even if your husband does sometimes shoulder the diaper bag, he doesn't share ownership. It isn't the family bag, even though it is a necessity for the family. It is YOUR diaper bag and yours to pack it on a regular basis. Daddy lacks a uterus that is used to accomodating all the the family's needs. 

These days I can't leave the house without the following in my diaper bag:  

• Ava's diapers
• Ava's wetbag
• Changing pad
• Nursing cover
• Extra outfit for Ava (in case of an accident)
• Wipes
• Burp cloth
• Swaddle blanket
• Extra underpants for Miles (in case of an accident)
• Extra pants for Miles (in case of an accident)
• Miles' milk cup
• Miles' travel potty
• Medicine bag (an old makeup bag filled with Neosporin, teething gel, gas drops, baby Tylenol, and Band-Aids)
• Coloring books/activity games for Miles
• Wallet
• Phone
• Keys
• Tissues

I carry all this shit! 24/7. On my person!

No wonder I resent that damn bag, no matter how much I love the Marc Jacobs design that my sister picked out. It is heavy and uncomfortable and I can never get it to close properly. BUT it is also my privilege as a woman! 

If the diaper bag represents my reproductive uterus, I should learn to love it. It produced two gorgeous and healthy babies. So then it is my biological privilege to carry all "the stuff." My husband can't do that with the same meaning. It is part of what makes motherhood kind of amazing. 

So the next time Miles decides he is done decorating his sister with stickers and hands me the rest of the sheet to put back in my Mary Poppins carpet bag of "stuff," I will remember that it is my privilege to be the one carrying all this stuff. One day, they will both be long gone, carrying their own stuff, and I will miss the days of finding soggy puffs stuck to my iPhone. 

Miles takes stickers from Mommy's diaper bag and decorates his sister.