Parenting Pillars: Listen to Your Body

Children are the ultimate masters of listening to their bodies. They arrive pre-wired to know when they feel full, hungry, sleepy, safe, dry, in pain. Most adults have lost this skill, for a host of reasons. I (as a completely inexperienced parent) think one of the best things we can do is simply not get in the way of a child's bodily intuition. With that in mind, here are the points/tenants/ideas that Gabe and I came up with and sorted into the Bodily Autonomy category.

1) Listen to your body.
This is a whole separate post, but I believe the body doesn't have an agenda, aside from keeping you safe. It's not trying to trick you or manipulate you. Interpreting the body's signals can be tricky, but it is not going to lie to you. Your body will tell you when you're safe or when something needs to change. You can trust it. I know my kids will probably get sick of hearing me say, "Listen to your body" when it comes to everything from eating to exercising to hugging.

2) Food/eating is neutral.
It seems like people have a lot of food-related issues these days: overeating, under-eating, eating for the wrong reasons, demonizing food groups. I'd like to keep food neutral in our home. Food is fuel. Different foods do different things for (and to) your body. I don't want to cajole the Tot into eating veggies and make dessert a special prize at the end. I don't want to cheer when she tries a new food. I want her to eat when she's hungry, stop when she's full, and try foods if she's interested in them. If we don't make food a big deal, maybe she can grow up without arbitrary or harmful associations.

I've noticed how well Gideon (age two and a half) listens to his body when it comes to hunger. If he isn't hungry, he doesn't want to eat. When his body tells him that he is hungry, he will literally stop mid-play and ask for a snack. He will also stop in the middle of eating his favorite dessert if his body tells him that he's finished, something I don't even think I'm capable of. What a gift to be able to listen to your body without your brain getting in the way and saying, "But it TASTES good and we don't get to have this every day." 

3) Allow risks, remove hazards.
I don't know who first coined this distinction, but I really like it. A "risk" is a challenge or uncertainty that a child has the ability to observe and assess for herself. A "hazard" is a danger that is hidden or beyond her skill level to handle. Climbing a tree is risky, but an unexpectedly rotten branch is hazardous. Building a treehouse is risky, but encountering a rusty nail is hazardous. Kids need to be free to explore, even if that means bopping their heads on a table or twisting an ankle when they leap off a platform. Experiencing the cause and effect of age-appropriate risks will help them become better risk-assessors, which ultimately leads to confidence, freedom, and better safety.

4) We don't talk about other people's bodies.
This one has a lot of nuance, a lot of asterisks. I do want Tot to be able to ask questions if someone looks different, whether because of race or physical handicaps or all kinds of things. I almost want to change this point to "We don't talk about other people's weight" or "shape," but I'd like it to extend to things like commenting negatively on acne or body hair, and people's private parts. Your body belongs to you (and God), and it's safe—and important—to become familiar with its parts and names and functions. But just like your body belongs to you, other people's bodies belong to them. That means we don't touch or talk about them unless it's appropriate.

I don't want is to normalize comments about bodies like "he doesn't need that cheeseburger, does he" or "she needs to hit the gym" or "even "she's lost so much weight, she looks great." Instead, I want to teach Tot that what bodies can DO and who people ARE are more important than what they look like. "Look how strong you are" or "See how kind she is" are the things I want Tot to grow up hearing.

5) Independent Play
I talked about this in this in the Mental Freedom post, and I don't have anything to add, except that it belongs in the Body category too. Let kids do their thing.

6) Baby-led Weaning
This concept isn't quite parallel to the others, but we want to do baby-led weaning. When Tot starts to show an interest in solid food (assuming she has teeth at that point), we plan to give her age-appropriate pieces of "real" food instead of going the baby food route.

7) Your body belongs to you (and God).
Unless it is for hygiene or safety reasons, no one has the RIGHT to touch you. No. One. You do not owe physical contact to your parents, your grandparents, your friends, or—one day—your significant other, and you don't have the right to touch other people without their permission either. In our house, there will be a rule during play that if anyone ever says "stop" or "no," we stop and our hands go up, immediately.

(I can see a world where a kid gets drunk on power with this rule, and rapidly goes back and forth with "stop," "go," "stop," "go" just to watch the control they have over a friend or parent. The natural consequence of that will probably be that the friend or parent tires of the game and doesn't want to play any more, and Miss Power Drunk is left bored for a bit.)

Tangent: I kind of have a problem with tickling for this reason. Sometimes bodies reflexively giggle even if we aren't having a good time or don't like something.* I have memories of being maybe two years old and someone at church picking me up and blowing raspberries on my bare tummy all the time. I remember my body laughing, but I HATED it. I tried to avoid this person as much as possible, but I was two, so I didn't have a lot of control over where I went. Because my body would laugh, everyone thought it was fine, and I didn't have language to express how uncomfortable it made me. I'm not saying I think tickling is wrong; I'm just saying that if a kid is squirming away or shying away from you, maybe listen to THAT message instead of their potentially involuntary laughter.

As we get familiar with Tot and she gets familiar with people close to her, we'll all learn each other and we will probably not have to ask permission for every little physical contact. However, people's physical boundaries can change depending on their mood or maturity level, and that is always okay. Your body belongs to you; their bodies belong to them. Just because Tot hugged you seven visits in a row does not mean she OWES you a hug on the eighth. If you assume hugs are always okay and go in for one and she says, "No thank you, not today," then two things are true: 1) you did nothing wrong, since there was strong precedent for that being okay, and 2) she did nothing wrong by asserting her physical preference today.

Now, if you get butt-hurt about it or make her feel guilty/ashamed for taking charge of her own body, THAT'S when you're wrong XD

How amazing would it be if we could raise kids who are baffled if someone acts like they're owed access to other people's bodies? How amazing would it be if we raised kids who were comfortable stating and enforcing their boundaries?

I hope we get to see how amazing it is :)

~Stephanie

*Mm, maybe this is a time when bodies can "lie"? I gotta think more about that.

Parenting Pillars: Mental Freedom

Today I attempt to process my thoughts on the "Mental Freedom" category of Gabe's and my fledgling parenting philosophy. When we went away for our planning weekend, we brainstormed a bunch of ideas that were important to us and then sorted them into four different categories: healthy religion, listening to your body, mental freedom, and emotional intelligence. These are the ideas that got sorted into the Mental Freedom list, but I think there's going to be some overlap. For example, I know "Independent play" will also show up in the Listen to Your Body category.

1) Your boundaries matter.
A lot of the Mental Freedom bullet points below have roots in the idea of boundaries. You might remember my whole boundaries journey and how groundbreaking that was for me. It's something I want to pass on to our kids.

I don't know what that will look like. Especially at first, I imagine kids will need adults to draw all the boundaries for them, to teach them what healthy boundaries look like as opposed to ones born out of paranoia or spite. But as soon as it makes sense, I want to start respecting my kids' boundaries. I want them to know that their voice matters. With practice, I hope their boundaries will grow to be wise and reasonable and held with neither bitterness nor guilt.

2) Imagination
I'm not sure if imagination is something that can be taught, but I definitely think it's something that can be squashed or stunted. Our goal is not to squash or stunt, and to encourage our children in exploring worlds, asking questions, and not being afraid to play pretend.

3) Reading
Gabe and I love to read, and believe so strongly in the power of stories. (You can actually hear me ranting about this subject on an Everyday Educator podcast episode here.) Even if our kids don't grow up to be avid readers, we want to foster a family culture of stories and talking about stories.

4) Independent play
Ah, independent play. My personal Achilles heel XD I don't know if it's because I'm cripplingly extroverted or what, but I would not consider myself good at independent play, and it's a skill we want to develop in our children. Not only should it help them grow in confidence, but it should also make life a little easier for us as parents if we don't have to entertain our kids all day.

When kids are older, "independent play" will probably look like letting them get bored enough to devise games on their own, but when they're infants and toddlers, independent play looks like butting out. Don't narrate what they're doing 24/7. Don't obsessively point out cause and effect as if they don't have eyes and a brain of their own. Don't tell or show them how to use a new toy—let them figure it out. When adults play with kids in a prescriptive way, it can stunt the child's creativity and confidence. Just let them figure it out. Let them use the toy "wrong." If they're playing with it, how is that "wrong"?

5) There are different types of intelligence.
This is one principle that Gabe has had to help me with, because if there's one thing I've always been sure of, it's that some people are stupid. However, Gabe flat out disagrees, and I think he's right. Gabe believes that everyone has some type of intelligence, and that every type is valuable and worthy of respect. He's done a little bit of research, and science backs this up. Howard Gardner identified seven types of intelligence: linguistic, logical-mathematical, spatial, bodily-kinesthetic, musical, interpersonal, and intrapersonal. I think society tends to glorify linguistic and logical, labeling everyone else as—at worst—stupid, or—at best—maybe "street smart."

We want to raise kids who know they are intelligent in some way, but—even more importantly—kids who know that everyone they interact with is also intelligent in some way. We want to raise kids who see the value of other people, encourage them in their strengths, and support them in their weaknesses. If we have a child who's gifted in a socially glorified type of intelligence, we don't want that to be a license to look down on anyone else. Likewise, if linguistic or logical intelligence isn't the way God has gifted our child, we don't want her to ever feel "less than" because of that—because she isn't. 

6) Sharing is a choice.
Think about sharing with peers as an adult. If you're at a conference taking notes and someone takes your pen from you or says, "I want a turn," what would your reaction be?

Maybe, "I'm sorry, I'm using it right now" or "I'm sorry, but this is my pen. Do you have one of your own?" Imagine the conference leader coming over and saying, "No, you have to share. Give that person your pen."

Absurd. Adults aren't forced to share things that belong to them against their will. In fact, that can be kind of a dangerous precedent. You probably know someone (or ARE someone) who gives away too much of themselves or lets others use their things when it makes them sad or uncomfortable—maybe even their own bodies.

Sharing is important. It teaches patience, self-sacrifice, and how to engage in the give-and-take that makes the world go 'round. But if we force children to share in the wrong way, I think it sends a bad message.

If a child is actively playing with something that belongs to her, it's her turn—until she decides to stop. She is not morally obligated to interrupt what she's doing to make someone else happy. If it's a toy that belongs to a friend or the whole family, then the child doesn't "own" it, and when she's finished it's appropriate to let others use it too. But if it's a toy that's special to her, she may choose not to share it even when she isn't using it. We do this as adults all the time. Just because I'm not wearing my favorite ring that Nana gave me doesn't mean I have to let a friend borrow it.

And it goes both ways. If someone else is playing with a toy, your child might have to wait a long time for her turn, and if it's someone's special toy, she may never get to use it. Sharing is caring, sure. But having and respecting boundaries is caring too.

7) You can do hard things.
All of this is hard. But one mantra that we want to teach our kids from Day 1 is that they can do hard things.

When Gideon, my nephew, was about fourteen months old, I got to hang out with him one-on-one and I said something about him being strong. He looked at me and said, "What is that?" and I paused because it felt like an important moment of definition. I wanted him to know that there are different kinds of strong, that the word doesn't just mean physical prowess, but I knew I had to tell him something simple enough to be useful for his little toddler brain. After a second I said, "If you are 'strong,' that means you can do hard things," and that's a definition I've continued to feel good about.

~Stephanie

I'm Glad God Made Us Wait

In January 2024, I wrote a post called The Fourth Heartbreak Continues. In it, I reference the post I made in January of 2020 where I processed how heartbroken I was to be called to move away from Raleigh, but I knew that I could trust God's plan. In Heartbreak Continues, I admitted that I still didn't know why God had upended our Raleigh life, and that I was actually pretty bitter about it.

I definitely didn't know why we weren't getting pregnant. I looked around and people were getting pregnant by accident, or getting pregnant despite eating like garbage, or getting pregnant despite never moving their bodies. It honestly didn't make me angry or sad, it just confused me. Gabe and I were physically healthy (doctor-confirmed) and financially stable, had a healthy marriage, and I was dedicated to eating well and exercising, while being careful to eat enough calories and not put too much stress on my body. I didn't drink alcohol or caffeine, and I ate weird stuff like oysters and roasted tomatoes that were supposed to help with fertility.

It didn't feel RATIONAL, like writing 2 + 2 = 4 on a math test and having it marked "wrong." I was more indignant than sad, more confused than angry.

Even more confusingly, I was quite happy the way things were. I have a draft of a post called "Pregnancy Ambivalence" that will probably never see the light of day now, but in it I talked about how I was 100% certain that I wanted kids—however, if it weren't for a biological clock, I wouldn't necessarily want them NOW. I loved having a clean house and going on random roadtrips and getting sleep and working on the Fire Faery Story and not being interrupted when I talked to Gabe and eating out on a whim and never having to get a sitter. I was really happy, but due to the aforementioned biological clock, I was also under a lot of pressure to have kids ASAP, because I really, REALLY did want kids.

It was all very confusing—lots of moving pieces, lots of mixed feelings. We prayed to get pregnant for years, and I know other people were praying with us. But nothing happened, and I couldn't understand why.

I did trust God, and not because I was a good Christian girl who had a lot of faith, but because God had been extremely kind in letting me see a lot of past answers to "why not right now?" Maybe he knows how much I need proof, but he eventually allowed me to see why I didn't get into Wake Forest, why my high school boyfriend and I didn't work out, why Gabe and I didn't start dating sooner, etc. I really did trust that if Gabe and I weren't having kids, God had a good reason.

But what the hell was it?!

Well, we are finally pregnant, and God has been kind enough to open my mind to some small reasons and one BIG reason why now is a better time.

Small Reason 1: We have a house.
Yes, we were financially stable before, but where were we gonna put a baby in the apartment? I have no doubt we would've figured it out, but our apartment was FULL. We did not have an extra bedroom. What we did have? A third-story climb to reach our front door and neighbors from Hell on four sides.

Small Reason 2: I got to do my big 30th birthday beach trip.
That was probably the most magical trip of my entire life, and it would have been an ordeal with a baby or toddler. We would have had to either find childcare for an entire week or bring the kid with us, which would have altered the vibe in all kinds of ways I wouldn't have wanted.

Small Reason 3: I'm medicated.
Depression is still a struggle, but before medication, I was...becoming next to useless. There's no way I could have taken good care of a baby or toddler when there were weeks where I couldn't get out of bed, brush my own teeth, or eat my own meals. I have hard days now, but I don't have a lot of impossible days.

Small Reason 4: I've paused work on the Fire Faery Story.
To be honest, this might be more accurately added to a list of "HOW we finally got pregnant" instead of "why." The Fire Faery Story takes  e v e r y t h i n g  I have. All of me. Actually, it clearly takes MORE than what I have, because it's still not done yet. It's basically my first child, and I think I can only gestate one baby at a time. For years I chose the FFS, but when I took a YEAR off...my mind and body finally had room for a human baby.

Small Reason 5: I didn't need or enjoy my home office.
For the first time ever, in the new house I had a whole room dedicated to my work. It was fun to decorate it and hang up art that was all about me...but I didn't actually like being in there. It was the longest possible walk from the living room and kitchen. I felt kinda marooned and would actually avoid working in there, instead opting for the kitchen table or couch.

Small Reason 6: We didn't know what to do with "the big room."
Most of our second floor is a loft/bonus room. We kicked around a lot of ideas about what to do with it, but none of them inspired us. The space was a purposeless void—until we needed a nursery and everything clicked: we could integrate my office and all the bookshelves into the big room. We did it over Martin Luther King Jr. Day and oh. my. GOSH. This is EXACTLY what the big room was meant to be! It looks like a real room now, and I actually love working in the space. It's big enough that when Tot gets older, she can easily play in the room while I work.

Small Reason 7: I got a raise.
Boy, is that divine timing, especially since I'll be taking some time off when the Tot is born.

Small Reason 8: I can suddenly swallow pills?
I dunno. I've always choked on anything bigger than, like, a single sprinkle, but for some reason about six months ago my body was like, "Oh, you mean swallow the pill. Like food," and now everything is better.

The Big Reason: Gabe and I are completely different people than we were five years ago.
When we first started trying to get pregnant, my goal would've been to raise smart, tough kids. I didn't know there was a difference between transparency and vulnerability. I didn't know anything about boundaries or attachment theory. I probably would've believed in spanking my kids. My plan for tantrums would've been simply to cut them off, forbid them. I knew nothing about child psychology or development.

Now I'm obviously no child psychologist or parenting expert, but holy cow am I glad Past Me didn't have kids.

My goal is no longer to raise smart, tough kids. My goal is raise to raise kind, well-regulated kids. My goal is to be a parent who apologizes, and takes responsibility for her own emotions, and makes her kids feel seen.

I know Gabe and I aren't finished growing, and 2035 Stephanie will look back on Now Me and have a lot of notes. But I cannot believe I'm fortunate enough to be able to say,

"God, I think I'm finally starting to get it. Thank you for making us wait."

~Stephanie