At a baby shower the other day, little note pads were passed around for each guest to write tips for the prospective new parents on how to raise their child. We were asked to sign our names.
What a great idea, I thought. At their leisure they will read our unsolicited advice and probably learn some, junk some, or have a good chuckle. I have been discovering, at this late stage of my life, that this new generation of parents is convinced that they know everything there is to know about parenting. And if they have missed out on anything, don’t bother to tell them. They can Google it.
I took a bit long before I offered my two cents worth. I was not too sure they would read or heed the words of an old person, experienced perhaps, but still quite a bit past her time. We have become so passé, so old school.
But this was for my 10th great grandchild, and I felt compelled to weigh in. So I wrote something I have believed all along: that it is okay to rock the baby. Yes, moms and dads, in your own arms, not swaddled in some expensive high-tech contraption designed to simulate the sights and sounds inside the uterus.
My very observant daughter claims that the familiar fractured waltz tempo we rock our babies to is instinctive, especially in Filipinos. It is usually accompanied by a singsong tune with no particular melody. It is repetitive and quite monotonous. But it calms the little one. Don’t ask me why.
Mystery of bonding
What’s more, I believe the exercise is good for the “rocker,” as well. There’s that mystery of bonding that happens. And there is no more wonderful feeling than what you get, after a few steps to the left and to the right, with one hand gently rubbing that little back, when the baby relaxes and falls asleep. Ask parents who have paced the floor at 2 in the morning, holding a colicky baby.
Some young moms and dads, afraid to spoil the child, believe it wise to let the baby cry. They probably read it somewhere that if they pick up the baby whenever it whimpers, their child will grow up to be a demanding and manipulative brat.
The other school of thought says that a crying baby needs something and must be given your undivided attention immediately, if not sooner. A recent article warns that the child has to know that Mommy and Daddy are close by and on hand to help; that letting them cry will result in insecure children.
My youngest daughter thinks like the first group. Her book told her to first make sure that the baby was comfortable and safe before “putting them down for the night,” and if there still was any crying, to just sit tight. She had a monitor on.
Early on the baby cried herself to sleep. No rocking. No singing. This lola was a nervous wreck and sneaked peeks into the dark nursery. But I didn’t dare pick the baby up.
It worked! Today her two daughters are warm and loving, confident young women, in college, with no hang-ups or insecurities whatsoever. So much for that theory, thank God.
I guess this will always be a debatable issue. I have seen how infants can quickly get used to the rocking.
I think that some new parents are just too obsessed with doing the “right thing” by the book and following it to the letter. I say, use good old common sense. Relax. Don’t miss out on the joy. Seize the moment!
The other day someone was talking about his “once in a lifetime” moment. He went on and on about making a monumental decision that drastically changed his life. Like a motivational speaker, he asked if anyone among us had ever experienced such a moment.
There were a couple of reactions. Some were funny.
I kept quiet. I didn’t want to be the perfect squelch.
I wanted to say that my life is made of such moments. It happens when I wake up each morning and discover the gift of a brand new day. My only task is to make it count.
Oprah Winfrey says, “Breathe. Let go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you have for sure.”
Where is ‘Camelot’?
Women’s month is almost over. It has been a rough time for the women of this land. They say the malady is global. Perhaps it is.
Time was when the Filipina was revered, treated like a precious jewel. When did it change? Why?
A wise man once told his son: “Make your woman feel beautiful. Protect her, respect her like you would your mother; like you would have another man respect your own daughter.” What happened?
I think of “Camelot.” My friend reminds me it was just a story, a legend, and a figment of someone’s imagination. How sad.
In the musical play, King Arthur asks Merlin, the sorcerer, “How to handle a woman?”
“There’s a way,” says the wise old man. “A way known by every woman since the whole rigmarole began.”
“Do I flatter her?” I begged him answer.
“Do I threaten or cajole or plead?
“Do I brood or play the gay romancer?” Said he smiling, “No indeed.
“How to handle a woman? Mark me well I will tell you sir.
“The way to handle a woman is to love her, merely love her, simply love her, love her, love her.”
Ah, but Camelot is gone.