Parenting by the book?

It all started when my mom came home from a DONA conference with a new book & DVD called "The happiest toddler on the block" by Harvey Karp. Being the diligent first time mama that I am of course I found time to read the book & review the DVD. Karp's basic theory is children are little cavemen and need to be treated as such. Communication should be done at their level and not ours. When your child is down on the floor having a tantrum you need to do the same, in turn showing your child you understand their feelings. Once they stop the tantrum to pay attention to your crazy antics you 'swoop them away and redirect their attention'.

The selling point... You will raise a respectful, patient, well behaved child.

Easy, right? No way.

Shortly after my new found parenting wisdom, Ry & I took a trip to Ikea. She was 18 months. Old enough to enjoy the sights & sounds of a busy store, but too young to realize that everything isn't meant to be handled by her clumsy chubby hands. Everything was going smoothly until we hit the lighting department...

Rylann spotted a beautiful pink glass globe and wanted it now! I calmly explained that it was a 'pretty' just to look at and no touching. The tears began to flow & her pleas just kept getting louder.

My mama's intuition told me she was hungry and her morning nap had been shorter than usual, I should cut my losses pack her up and take her home. And then I remembered Dr. Harvey's words... "give your child the security of knowing you understand them".

And so the inner turmoil began....

"Are you kidding? I am not getting down on the floor to start wailing in my child's face, this is a public area!"
"Really? Is your child's well being not worth more than your reputation?"
"People are going to think I'm nuts!"
"So a few strangers think you're crazy. Rylann's security is totally worth it!"
"Fine, I can handle a few stares... here I go."

And so I got down on my knees in front of Ry's stroller and began the dramatics of crying/wailing that I understood how badly she wanted the light. "MAMA KNOWS YOU WANT THE LIGHT, YOU WANT THE LIGHT. YOU WANT, YOU WANT, YOU WANT THE LIGHT..."

Yes, people stared. Yes, people even stopped to watch. But I was committed, and Rylann was wailing.

And then it went quiet.

I looked up expecting to see a look of absolute understanding on my daughters face. Prepared to now 'swoop her away & redirect her attention'.

Instead I saw a look of absolute terror.
A look that said, "The sky must be falling... because... my... mom... has... just... gone... CRAZY! WHO CARES ABOUT THE BLOODY LIGHT SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH MY MOM!"

What I mistook for quiet was really the calm before the storm. Her little face went red, her mouth opened wide, alligator tears streamed down her face and she let out this desperate wail. All the while pushing her little hips out until the strap on the stroller gave way and she flew onto the concrete floor. The crowd that had now grown in size collectively gasped. Rylann's wailing continued and I screamed.

If I lack in many areas it is not commitment. I was committed to this program. And so...

I swooped my daughter up, ran to the car and spent the next 20 minutes directing her attention to her mama's soft calm voice and warm cuddles. No caveman talk, no dramatics, just the security that comes from knowing your mama will always love you, and will always be your mama.