Make your own parenting manual

Tomorrow my son hits double digits, a major milestone for him and a really big deal for me. Ten years ago today, I was preparing to welcome my new baby into the world, armed with plenty book sense on this parenting thing and a little practical experience from looking after many nieces, nephews, cousins and god children. And I was ready to be a mother! Or so I thought.

That Christmas Eve, at 7:01 pm, when the nurse at the Sangre Grande hospital placed that little piece of me in my arms, my concept of love and life was reshaped. I was holding, touching, whispering to, pressing my lips against my own heart. Over the years I have watched and documented his transition from infancy to date – an experience that has been and continues to be one of the greatest of my life’s lessons. He has made me laugh, and cry. He has made me glad and sad. He has made me anxious and mad. He has made me extremely happy.

I remember my addiction to his baby smell, and having to wake up every hour on the hour for a feeding in the initial stages. I vividly recall the loud outbursts of toddler laughter and the dreaded terrible twos tantrums. I can still feel the tears on my face when I saw him for the first time in his pre-school uniform, and remember how I wailed for over a week when he started primary school. I remember the names of all his imaginary friends, who have all served their respective purposes and moved on to other things. I’ve lived through and supported several interests and career plans, including the one of becoming a WWE wrestler.

I live for his smiles, laughter and warm hugs and kisses. I hurt when he is sad and elated when he is happy. I relish his sense of humour, his smart mouth, his penchant for life and his willingness to try new things. I look forward to the seven grandchildren he has promised me, and the limousine he is going to buy me so, “the kids can ride with you”. Bottom line, I love everything about my son, except maybe his attitude when it comes to doing his homework. But even then I appreciate that he puts forward an argument in his favour. I don’t think he has ever won a case, but I appreciate that he knows how to put up a fight for his cause.

So, after a decade of doing this I should be a pro at it; right? Uh uh! Still learning. Because although the books are usually right about physical developmental milestones, there are so many factors that come into play when having to deal with the social, emotional and other aspects of raising children. The thing about reading all the books and literature is that it’s not a one size fits all. Oh, and the practical experience thing with the nieces, nephews and god children that we like to boast about? As it turns out, when you get tired of looking after them you can easily give them back. With your own child, no can do. Sure you may get a little break when granny and grandpa or aunty visit, but for the most part, the bubbly, sometimes cranky, always hungry, almost always bursting with energy poopy pants are pretty much your responsibility.

For me, the major lessons I had to learn over the past ten years that were not covered in the books I read, and very quickly, are the role culture plays when raising children, and the unique temperaments of children. I understand the literature is just there for guidance because they can’t realistically cover every culture, so as a new mother I quickly learnt how to sift through what was applicable to me and my little one and sometimes customised it to suit our situation. “Your baby takes an early but giant step toward independence when she learns to put herself to sleep. You can encourage the habit at around six months, an age when the stomach holds enough food to keep a baby satisfied for most, if not all, of the night. So when she's feeding with less frequency, she may be ready to head alone – and awake – into the crib,” advised one article from parenting.com – advice to which many Caribbean parents, including me, can’t relate. Co sleeping, for example, is not uncommon in most West Indian homes, and certainly not in mine. I frequently complain about not getting a good night’s rest when he sleeps next to me, but I miss him when he is not there. It’s a cultural thing, pretty much like seeing adult, unmarried children living with their parents, sometimes never leaving home. I don’t know how I feel about that, though, with the promise of seven grandchildren and all.

And when it comes to their temperaments, like fingerprints and snowflakes, they are all different. Again, the literature provides guidance, but you have to know and understand your child. I learnt from very early that although he is a part of me, my son is an individual and his likes, dislikes and interests are his. I admit at times I have tried to live vicariously through him. Not going to happen! There was a time when he would drag around a pink pillow pet because pink was his favourite colour. “Awwww, SHE is such a cutie,” people would pass by and remark whenever we were out in public with his grasp firmly around the little butterfly’s fuzzy light-pink wing. He didn’t care and neither did I. These days he is into blues, purple and magenta, which can be considered a dark shade of pink, and he still doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

So, as double J and I enter another phase of his life we both have different expectations. He can’t wait to hit puberty to sprout facial hair and a have a genital growth-spurt (a more eloquent way of putting what he actually said), while I’m hoping he will continue to be the strong, kind, opinionated, generous, sensitive and loving, albeit sometimes defiant child I have raised so far. I’m also hoping that he will start picking up after himself. Fingers crossed.

Happy tenth birthday Jared Johann Young. Let’s see where this leg of the journey takes us nah!