Raising a baby is confusing. Take, for example, the flood of advice that comes your way. Some good, some contradictory to other advice, and some just plain ludicrous. Some advice comes uninvited. When I was still expecting my baby, I read somewhere (or in several places) that parents always encounter other parents who will feel it incumbent upon themselves to share their wisdom. Only thing is, once these bits of wisdom come out of their mouths, they often tend to sound more like folly. The first time I met such "other parents," the first thought that came to my mind was, "Wow! They really do exist!" As they gave me the benefit of their experience, I sat back, enjoyed, and indulged in a bit of suppressed giggling. For what else can one do?
The most valuable piece of advice (and I am speaking strictly of entertainment value, of course) these parents in particular gave me was this: upon seeing my daughter sitting on her bum, knees bent and feet by her hips, they suggested that I ought to teach her not to sit like that, or she would develop knee problems. I smiled at them and said, because I really could not help it: "Why? because she's already in her mid-fifties?" Still, they meant well, and I thank them for their concern. Of course I have no intention of following their advice. If my daughter's knees hurt, she will sit in a different position on her own. Or learn not to bend her knees (giggle).
Of course, as a new parent, I am fully aware that I need help. Advice that is freely given to me, I take or I leave. Often I will seek advice. I am a strong believer in asking mom for help - since, obviously, she's seen it all and been through it all before. I also subscribe to a weekly parenting newsletter, and sometimes receive some quite interesting advice, not only on how to care for my baby, but how to help her learn about the world around her. For example, the last newsletter I received assured me that my baby ought to be learning about object permanence by now. To help her develop this, why don't I try the following experiment: show her a toy, then place it under a cup. Lift the cup, and give her the toy. Repeat two more times. Then, hide the toy under a different object, say, a box. Watch her look for it under the cup. Easy!
Sure. What do you do if your baby is more interested in the cup and doesn't want to have anything to do with the bloody toy?
Oh well. Never mind. I know she already knows about object permanence. She just likes to develop her own games, that's all. Like when she goes in the bathroom, closes the door, giggles as I ask myself outloud: "Where's baby? Where is she?", then swings the door open, shrieking with glee, because of course she knows her mother's there all along!
So, really, when you get to know your own baby, you develop your own instincts, and most of the time you know exactly what to do. Because you're her parent, and parents just know. And because you read all those books while you were pregnant.
Before I close, there is one thing perhaps some kind parent out there could help me figure out. Why is it that my baby goes around all day, speaking all the syllables in the history of language, especially NaNa, DaDa, BaBa, but refuses still to say MaMa, even though that's the first word she's supposed to say? According to the books, anyway.
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