My Unsolicited Advice, About Unsolicited Advice

Julie Owsik Ackerman

Almost two years ago, I wrote about an instance of backseat parenting. When I read it just now, I laughed to see the same issue rearing its head again. Apparently, I haven’t transformed into a fully confident mother who believes in my skills yet. Oh well.

It’s been a tough few weeks. I’ve had health issues, Daniel started full-time school, Carl is back to his fall schedule, our little world is in upheaval. Last week, I was thrilled to bring Daniel to a support group we’ve both attended as long as he’s been alive. This group is a central piece of my self-care regime. But as I pulled up, I had a sinking feeling as I realized that our group had changed locations, and Daniel hadn’t been to the new place yet.

With so many changes in his world, I wondered how he would react to this. The answer was: not well. I have left him with our group’s babysitter, since he was a few months old, without incident. But last week, I could hear him wailing after I left. My first instinct was to go get him, but I wanted to give him a chance to settle in. One of his best friends was there, the babysitter was an awesome, fun guy, and I really needed that meeting.

Daniel quieted a few times, only to resume sobbing. After 15 minutes, I went to get him. He calmed down when he saw me, and sat quietly next to me in the meeting room for the next 45 minutes, only starting to squirm at the very end. I was glad I had listened to my instinct that told me that he might just need some extra cuddles.

Then I got hit by the backseat parenting squad of one: self-appointed. “I’m not giving you advice,” she started. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. “I just wish I had known when my kids were younger that when you give in to them, you encourage the behavior.”

I know this woman, I like this woman, and I felt like she had kicked me in the stomach. I had sat there for 15 minutes listening to my child’s cries. I knew what was going on in his life, and I knew he was beyond his limit that morning. I had made a choice based on my intuition, and it was a good one for both of us. I got to listen to my meeting, he got to sit with mommy. Win-win. So why did her comment set me off? Why can’t I just dismiss unsolicited advice as, “Wow, she’s pretty controlling and busy-bodyish.”

After some reflection I realized her comment bothered me so much because I was already feeling like maybe I wasn’t a good mother. I had made a large change for Daniel—going to full-time child care—and I wasn’t sure it was the right one. This woman, whatever her intention, poked a very tender spot.

Once I identified why her comment upset me, and I saw Daniel continue to adjust well to his new school, I let go of resentment toward the mommy police. I know I give unsolicited advice too. I have so many brilliant ideas, and I want to share them. But next time I want to impart a helpful hint to someone, I’m going to try to remember how it feels on the receiving side, and keep my mouth shut.

10 Sweetest Things

Periodically, in an effort to appreciate the gifts of the moment, I make a list of the 10 Sweetest Things my son is doing. If you want to find past entries, for extra sweetness, you can find them here.

I love 17 months. Okay, not everything about it. Carl and I are learning about saying no, setting limits, educating Daniel on what is and isn't appropriate. Example: yes, Daniel, it's appropriate to say "excuse me" and wait for someone to get out of your way. It's not so appropriate to shout "excuse me" after you've crashed into the old ladies who aren't leaving church quickly enough for you. But overall, this age is super sweet. Here are some of my favorites right now.

1. He toddles over to the couch, looks up with sad eyes and says, "Cudd-le?" As if anyone could turn down that offer.
2. He says, "I love you." But it sounds more like, "I loooooove ju."
3. He blows kisses to say goodbye, fingers outstretched, arm flinging forth with a flourish.
4. He adores my dad, so much that he has a special dance he does when he says Pop-pop. It looks like raising the roof: hands at shoulders, palms up, two quick upward pops.
5. He loves to sing Alleluia. Of course at church today, he only sang it, very loudly, at inappropriate times - like during the homily, but still. Pretty cute. Recently, he's taken to singing it softly as I rock him before putting him to bed.
6. He loves cats. All kinds. House cats, snow leopards, tigers. These seem to be his favorite animal. I showed him a picture of a leopard in a magazine and he spent ten minutes going "kittykittykittykittykitty" in a gutteral voice. He looked like he wanted to nuzzle the picture, but he didn't.
7. When we met Bitsy, my brother's new puppy, he approached her slowly, and was very gentle, even though he's used to burrowing into Nalu, our doggie, at will. He seemed to intuit that Bitsy couldn't handle any rough play.
8. He pretends to go to sleep, lying on the floor, saying "Night night" and then fake snoring.
9. As he walked out of church tonight, he turned around and said, "Bye, Jesus!"
10. See for yourself above. Him singing "Happy birthday to you" almost hurts me it's so sweet.

What's sweet in your life today?

What's SUP?

This is how we looked. Okay, this is how we wished we looked.

Julie Owsik Ackerman

I realized this summer that I’m a surfing Goldilocks. On days when the waves are just right, nothing makes me happier than paddling out, sitting on my board, catching some rides. I hope heaven is like that. But many days, the waves are too small or too big, leaving me onshore, longing for a SUP, a standup paddleboard, to paddle around the ocean or explore the bay.

After the ocean pummeled me on a too-big-day last week, I called Kara, my trusty old partner-in-crime, to see if she wanted to try standup paddleboarding. Of course she was game. Secretly I wondered if this would be another JulieandKara mishap. Sure, we found our way to D.C. without a map; yes, my bones healed after the Tae Kwon Do incident; no, I did not seriously injure that child on the ski slopes, but history showed that we tended to leap before looking.

The woman who ran the rental store seemed confident that we would be fine without any instruction. She showed us how to adjust the paddles, and suggested we start out on our knees until we felt comfortable enough to stand. "Are there any places we should avoid?" I asked, realizing that I rarely ventured near the bay. In her limited English she recommended that we go with the flow. That sounded easy enough.

It was a warm and sunny September morning, with very little boat traffic to disturb the water. We each quickly rose to our feet. I savored the peace, the view, the absence of toddlers. Kara said, "This is very Zen." I said, “I’m so proud of us. I was worried this might be another debacle.”

You see where this is heading, right? As we congratulated ourselves on our maturity, we were unknowingly paddling with a strong current, the whole way. When the ocean came into view, we were sucked through some rough waters into the inlet. We turned around, paddling our hearts out. Remembering my surf training, I looked to shore for a landmark. After 15 minutes we hadn’t advanced moved more than a few feet.

A boat hovered nearby, the older couple inside watching us. Finally, the man said, "You're not going to be able to paddle against this current." I had to concur. He instructed us to paddle to the beach, and said he would pick us up to give us a ride. We had no money, no cell phones, no shoes, just the bathing suits on our backs, and very large, very heavy boards. Safely on shore, we turned to our rescuers who asked where we had gotten the boards. When I said 3rd street, the woman said, "Oh, you can walk back there," and they zipped away. Kara and I stared at each other in shock.

Luckily the island wasn’t quite deserted yet. I borrowed a phone from a nearby tween, asked her grandparents where we were, and called Carl. He happened to be near the rental place, where he explained our predicament to the store owner, obtained Kara’s car keys, then drove her minivan to the beach, our knight in a shiny Honda.

Although we had a dicey hour, I've been smiling about that morning ever since. For the first 30 minutes, standing atop that board, floating through the bay with my dear friend, I felt the same pure joy I see so often on Daniel’s face. And after a year of being so grown up and responsible, of focusing on mothering our new babies, I was glad to see that underneath it all, we’re still just KaraandJulie, getting ourselves into a little trouble. I hope we’re never too old or wise for that. Though next time, I think we’ll paddle upstream first.

Cheerio, My Good Boy

Though I didn’t make any resolutions for 2012, I am trying harder to stay in the present. When I keep my mind and body in the same place, I have much more peace and gratitude in my life. I want more of both.

So, being in the moment right now means watching my son eat. Last week at his six month appointment, Dr. Devon said he could try all kinds of new food—yogurt, cottage cheese, fruits, veggies, and Cheerios. I strolled him from the pediatrician’s to the grocery store, eager to see Daniel’s reaction to these new things. Most new foods cause some skepticism from him. He’ll take a spoonful of whatever I offer, but he eyes me warily, while he decides if he likes it. After this initial tasting, everything so far had been greeted with a wide open mouth, and gobbled down.

But the first time I tried to feed him a Cheerio, his mouth clamped shut and he looked at me as if I was crazy. I ate a few myself, with enthusiasm, but he wasn’t buying what I was selling. The next day, after warming him up with some familiar oatmeal and applesauce, I offered the Cheerio again. He opened his mouth, ever so slightly, eyeing me the whole time. I placed the oat gently in his mouth, like giving someone communion. He moved his tongue around a little, then spat the offender out. Not interested.

By yesterday, he was loving them. Opening up his mouth eagerly, smacking his lips together as he chewed with his gums, kicking his legs, smiling. I decided I could watch him eat Cheerios all day, so sweet is his contentment. As a bonus, because they take him so long to eat, they buy me extra time to actually finish my meal, have some coffee, write in my journal. But the apex of the week was when he grasped a Cheerio in his little paw, and shoved it into his own mouth, pleased with himself as could be.

It might not sound like much, but watching my son go from unwilling to try something new, to mastering a new skill, well, it’s like watching a miracle. Though perhaps the real miracle is having the time, patience and attention to see it happening and appreciate it. These are the gifts of staying in the present. People keep telling me I’m going to blink and he’ll be thirty. Eek. I’m sure very soon he’ll be pushing his plate away, telling me he hates my cooking. But all I have is the present moment, when he kicks his feet and beams at me. I’ll take it.

Backseat Parenting

“Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice.” Steve Jobs

As a new mother, it’s hard for me to ignore other people’s opinions. Isn’t almost everyone who’s had a kid more qualified to take care of Daniel than me? Well, no. But that’s how it feels sometimes. So on our recent trip to Mexico when people would tell me, “Julia (hoo-li-a), he’s hungry,” or “Julia, he’s tired,” or “Julia, he’s cold,” it was hard to hear my inner voice. With parenting, and with other things, even when I hear my intuition, it’s hard to trust.

In this instance, others’ opinions play into fears I have about my adequacy as a mother. How could I know better when I’ve only been a parent for four months? But time and again, I find I do know better. I try what someone else has told me, he keeps screaming. Then I try what I thought to do and he calms down. Not every time, but often.

With each success, I trust my instincts a little more. True, I’ve only been a mother for four months, but I’ve spent infinitely more time with him than anyone who’s handing me advice. As my friend’s mom (who had fifteen children) likes to say, “Every child is different, so study your child.” I’m no baby expert, but I know my son pretty well. One thing I can say about him with confidence is that when I guess wrong about what he needs, he tells me. As anyone who was in the Atlanta airport on Tuesday evening can attest, he is a very effective communicator.

Is there an area of your life where you find it hard to trust your instincts? Why?