Who is the ultimate baby authority? Is it my pediatrician? My mom? A crazy relative who just happened to pop out three children? Lately it seems like everyone has not just an opinion but the opinion on raising Izzy. Perhaps I've been spared the overwhelming onslaught of critiques and caustic questioning for the first five months of Izzy's life. But lately I've been hearing a whole lot of "You did what?!" or "That's not the way to do it." Or maybe it didn't dawn on me that so many people were giving their 2 cents (shouldn't I be rich by now?) It finally struck me this weekend that there were one too many people giving me direction on how to raise the little baby who I carried for 9 months.
Family and friends, many of them mothers, had gathered for my sister's baby shower. By no means am I a selfish mommy, I liberally pass Izzy to almost anyone. What I didn't expect was for people to snatch her, mid-diaper change no less. At one time I could anticipate the "friendly suggestions" on how to improve my diaper changing techniques. But I had no idea that fending off snatchers was a full contact sport. Too bad I left my helmet at home. "This is how you do it," started one mom as she pushed me aside to demonstrate. Really? After 5 months you don't think I figured this out? At one point I just had to give in, I was there to throw a shower for my sister. After two hours of watching Izzy being passed like liquor stolen from a locked cabinet amongst teenagers, I finally got her back. Maybe it was in my head, but I swear she glared at me until her next nap.
We had another family event on Sunday and this time Izzy was meeting some of my aunts and uncles that she never met before. I dodged the occasional suggestion and danced around topics I didn't want to discuss until it was bottle time. I found a relatively quiet spot and sat with Izzy while she tried to fill up on the pumped liquid gold. Within seconds a crowd formed and I hoped Izzy would chug the bottle so we could avoid critique. A family member, who shall remain nameless, thought it would be a good idea to tickle Izzy's defensless little feet. At first I quietly urged the tormentor to stop. As the attact raged on, another family member began to chide me that it was time to burp Izzy. Thinking that her feet would be out of reach while I burped her, I strategically threw Izzy onto my shoulder and gently patted away. A quiet little burp escaped and I turned her around to give her more of the bottle. And just as she turned she spewed milk and saliva everywhere. This wasn't just some little spit up, this was projectile cream, and sent in the direction of the tickler. With eyes that could kill I glared at the tickler, words were not needed. The tickler quickly made her escape. As she escaped my chiding aunt quickly accused me of not burping her soon enough. Although, in the same breath she also accused the tickler saying that tickle is torture to babies.
That's just a snipet from this past weekend. I know I need to not take things so personal, but when the "guidance" is coming from all directions it's hard not to feel inadequate. I need to work on my confidence as a mother.
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