Weaning woes - or how I learned that foisting my needs onto my son was a bad idea

Yesterday I mentioned that Daniel's lost tooth was making me nostalgic. On my little trip down memory lane, I stopped off at "weaning". This is a time in many babies', toddlers' and parents' lives that can be quite difficult.

Not for me though. Oh no. In the summer of 2002 we still lived in Brooklyn. Not in the fashionable Park Slope section although friends of ours did live there. My friend in Park Slope was vigorously weaning her son, Walter. And I, in some mommy-crazed fit of competition decided to do the same with Daniel.

This decision had nothing to do with what was good for Daniel. Nursing was one of his few pleasures in a life that was often overwhelming for him. It consistently comforted him and allowed him to relax after what were for him stressful interactions with the outside world. My decision to wean was all about ME, and I had decided that my ability to wean Daniel was a measure of my worth and success at being a mother.

In my mad scientist desire to wean him at the same time or before my friend weaned Walter, I embarked on a carefully laid out plan of distraction and exhaustion just to eliminate those key before-nap nursing sessions. It was hard on all of us, but Daniel was kept so busy that it went fairly smoothly.

Until one afternoon. We were down to nursing maybe two times a day, and this afternoon we were snuggled in the glider doing our thing when I said to him, "You know, Walter is almost done nursing too, just like you. You two boys are getting so big and you don't need to nurse anymore."

Harmless banter, right? no, No, NO.

Daniel was not a baby when this happened. He was nearly two years old. Still, I didn't figure that I was letting the cat out of the bag. I thought that after several months of cutting back on nursing he had maybe figured out what was going on. I was wrong.

Daniel looked at me when I said that and refused to stop nursing for more than forty minutes. Any doubts I had that he had not understood what I had said were shattered when he insisted on nursing every two hours. We went from nursing twice a day to TEN TIMES A DAY.

I know what you're saying - "Honey, you're the adult, just tell him no."

But Daniel screamed until he was able to nurse. I did fight it at first, but we all became so miserable that I finally just gave in and figured he would surely wean before he went to school.

And indeed he did eventually wean himself. He was thirty-three months old and he had fallen in love with the Ikea bed that came with a slide. I had been telling him off and on for months that when he decided that he was big enough to stop nursing, then I would buy him that big boy bed. One day almost a year after our first failed weaning attempt, I mentioned the bed to him again.

This time he looked up at me and said, "I'm ready." I asked him if he was sure. I explained that if he got the bed he could no longer nurse. Even in the middle of the night I told him. He was steadfast. "I'm ready."

So we hopped in the car and drove to Ikea and I had that bed assembled in his room by bedtime. He loved it, and he was so proud of himself for making the decision on his own.

Now if only I hadn't been so self-centered the first time around, I could have saved all of us a lot of grief.

Photo by k-girl.

A girl and her dog

Once I had a dog.

When I was a kid I wanted a horse. At some point my spatial relation skills improved to the point where I realized that a horse would never fit in my parents'  15 x 18 foot backyard, so I transfered all my energy and pining towards getting a dog. My parents never caved, which shows me that they had tremendous amounts of inner strength, because, (if I am remembering correctly), I was pretty convincing, not to mention cute when I pleaded. But I also believe they enjoyed being mean, because in the same breath that they used to tell me NO, they would wax poetic about all the various dogs they had growing up.

I've spent a few sessions of therapy on the dog issue.

Needless to say, I was determined to get a dog as soon it was feasible. OK, actually before it was feasible. I tried to do some research on the types of dogs that would work for me, but the problem was that I wanted to get a dog so fast that I just couldn't go through all the hoops that the shelters had set up to keep crazy people like me from adopting a dog. So I decided to call some of the local rescue groups, which, as luck would have it, are staffed by crazy people like me! One place I called said they had an older dog for me and they would drop it off at my house in the morning. (Anyone think that is a little weird? It was almost like I had ordered a pizza.) But I was was unable to think clearly because soon the dog of my dreams was going to be with me at last!

I'm not sure that she even told me what kind of dog it was or how old it was. The next morning I met her at the corner, and she handed me the leash and the paperwork from the vet and asked if I could give a donation, which I did. Then she drove off. The dog meanwhile, never once looked at me. He was actively trying to get to the nearest park, and didn't seem to care if I was attached to the other end of the leash.

I know! The whole scenario is wrong, I should have asked about temperament, and training. She should have asked if I even had a clue as to how to handle a dog. Still, it took me a few days before any misgivings set in.

I don't want you to think that I didn't love this dog because I certainly did. I loved Chuck with the ferocity of a person who has never had a dog before. The thing is, Chuck was 85 pounds of screwy dog. He was maybe 8 years old when I got him, which means the craziness had had a chance to really set in. And that saying, "you can't teach and old dog new tricks"? Well its wrong. My dog learned how to whine in a really screechy voice when a cat walked by. He also learned how to "nearly" bite almost everyone in the family.

Chuck and I had a fine time as long as I followed his rules. Long walks, attacking anything that looked like a Rottweiler, and eating disgusting things off the street. I think he liked me too, but we were not as they say "a marriage made in heaven". I guess you could say that he never really was "my dog" but more like an itinerant uncle who was forced to stay with me due to situations beyond his control.

Chuck has been gone now for many years, but obviously I still think about him and miss him. He taught me a lot, about being tough and in-charge, and how I'm neither of those things.

Someday I hope to bring another dog into our family, and because of the lessons Chuck taught me you can be sure I will do my research, and for God's sake have a temperament test done!

Photo by mookielove.

Water, water everywhere

Daniel has decided that he is a water drinker. All on his own. This is remarkable because he usually will NOT drink plain water. He doesn't drink milk either - none of us do. Or soy-milk. Or rice milk. I know this is bad (I can hear my mother revving up with her admonishments from here), but I try to buy juice that has been sprayed with vitamins and calcium and whatever else they can think of to make high-fructose corn syrup seem healthy.

Daniel is a kid who doesn't drink much and is always at risk for being dehydrated, so I'm happy if he drinks anything at all. Anyway I've been trying to buy more "mainstream" foods and drinks for his lunch, and I bought Hawaiian Punch Plus.

After drinking it for several days in his lunch and at home he declared that it "makes his throat itchy", and he would rather have water with his lunch.

I refrained from doing a little dance, but it was a great moment. Made even better because we always got dirty looks at the playground in Park Slope when Daniel would be drinking Capri Sun while all the other toddlers were restricted to water only. It's a big deal in upscale Brooklyn to have a water-drinking, vegetarian, no-sugar kid. I always felt they treated their kids like accessories. It's like having a certain breed of small dog just so you can show off your Kate Spade dog carrier.

But I digress. Yesterday Daniel not only drank water at school, but also for dinner and with his snack before bed! That's worth celebrating for sure - I think I'll have some Hawaiian punch.

Photo by vimoh.