If money is the root of all evil (and I’m not ceding that it is) then children are surely the root of all myths. The root of this root (feel free to go for the “root squared” pun there) is the fact that children are all very, very different. If children were the same we would have figured them out 5000 years ago, and the Baby Wise book would not only have been written in cuneiform on clay tablets, but it would also work. As it stands, the myth of Baby Wise and other such “methodologies” is carried forward by those people who happen to have born unto them what is referred to as a “good” baby, good in this case being defined as a child who sleeps upwards of 22 hours a day, and is only slightly more mobile than a lawn ornament. Those of us who do not have such a child will eventually figure out on our own how to best keep our children from destroying us, themselves and everything around them, but we won’t be writing any books about it. We won’t create any advice columns, any songs, or any oral history documenting our discoveries and failures, because we’re going to be tired. In fact, we will probably be asleep, so don’t call us to ask how it’s going, or what we did. We don’t know. We can remember colors, sounds, a word here and there… maybe the random, odd, vivid memory that stands out in perfect detail but without context, but we can’t put any of it together. You see, we’ve been living a Clockwork Orange like experiment in sleep deprivation and emotional manipulation, and all that we really know is that we think it’s getting better, and “shh… the baby’s asleep”. What this dichotomy in baby experience leads to is a one sided story of how to raise your children. Those people who have babies that spend their first 12 months in a narcoleptic trance are getting plenty of sleep and feeling chatty. They also, like every single parent since the invention of the printing press, have purchased a book on how to get your kid to eat/sleep/not cry/count cards in Vegas… whatever. So chatty, happy, sleep lavished parents are now walking around telling everyone that “Book X” worked wonders for little Jeffery. “Book X” is the bomb. It’s not occurring to them that potting little Jeffery down in a planter next to the begonias would have also worked well for him, because Jeffery just so happens to be one of those babies programmed to sleep, and sleep often. I suppose it’s just a great success story for marketing, relying on some well placed targeting of parental insecurities. “Read our book. Did your baby fall asleep? You’re welcome. He didn’t fall asleep? Well clearly your child is retarded.” And people buy into this stuff. The ones whose babies aren’t sleeping like a cursed Disney character are wondering what’s wrong with the kid, or what’s wrong with themselves as a parent. That’s it. It’s (A) Bad Parent or (B) Defective Kid. They’re not turning the sheet over and seeing “(C) Uh… it’s a baby. Babies are like that”. I have to tell you the truth. I’m actively working towards becoming more cynical, because I want to reach the point where I can write one of these baby books, knowing full well what I’m doing, and not care, because folks, there is a lot of money in the Babies for Dummies business. I’m thinking that a properly sized royalty check would go a long way towards assuaging any guilt I may run into on that.
OK, before I go I want to cover one more thing. Most of you will have surmised by now that my newest daughter is not in the “good baby” category, if you are following the above definition of “good baby”, so I want to make something perfectly clear: There are no good and bad babies. There are just babies, and they are all pretty awesome. My child happens to be able to operate on 5 hours of sleep a night and about 2 hours worth of naps, but that’s OK. Some people think that’s a sign of genius. She also gets bored quickly with each new form of entertainment that you present her with, but again: sign of genius. You hand her a Rubic’s Cube and in a matter of minutes she clearly and succinctly lets you know that “Hey, I’ve figured this out. I know exactly how I would solve this if my fingers were working, but they’re not right now, so go ahead and bring me something new. Thanksabunch.” She has hands that strike like a viper, and she can move her head faster than a frat boy trying get his bangs to lie just right, but it’s all good. You just have to be aware that if anything passes within arms reach of her it *is* going to instantly disappear and reappear in her mouth, and probably keep in mind that at any given moment she may decide to toss herself over the side of your arms like Jacques Cousteau going over the side of his boat. She’s just interested in everything. A lot. It’s like she thinks she was born late and has a lot of catching up to do. At her current clip I expect her to pass in me in her understanding of the world in about a week, and that’s O.K. too. Some of you may have read my previous post about the difficulties my daughter had at birth, so the fact that she has spent her first 5 months so incredibly alive, alert, and interested in the world around her is really a blessing. I have to say that it’s all worth it, too, because I think our daughter is quite possibly the happiest baby that I’ve ever seen. Even when she is upset, she does this silly, theater face logo thing where she smiles and cries at the same time, because all she really wanted was you. She just wants her people to be near her, to show her new things, to carry her to places she can’t reach, and maybe, just maybe, let her try one bite of whatever it is that you’re eating at the moment.
So recap: All babies are good, all babies are unpredictable, all baby books lie, but buy mine anyway when it comes out.
