Mommy Knows Mini!

"Shut up, brain, or I'll stab you with a Q-tip!"

- Homer Simpson

Before I convince you that I'm a couple crackers short of a casserole, I want you to know that I didn't argue with myself much before I became a mom.  I think it's a common parental affliction caused jointly by a combination of a lack of sleep and the decay of all of my cool/hip brain cells, beginning at the precise moment of conception.  When your heart makes a place for someone you love so much more than yourself, you've just bought yourself a one-way ticket to Derptown.  I would even go as far as to say that statement proves true in cases of both new parenthood AND romance.

Since I've been plunged into both simultaneously for the first time, I often feel utterly drunk with love (I realize the complete unbaptistness of this statement, but an apt descriptive sometimes proves too true to waste!).  At the same time, I now find myself defending this happiness against a muttering hive of inner critics.  You would constantly whack yourself upside the head with a rubber mallet if you had to listen to these internal tiffs all day long.  

Within my addled brain, I'm defending my parenting against the imagined voices of well-intentioned individuals who believe they have written St. John's gospel on how to raise a thriving child.  Maybe if they were aware of how neurotic I truly am, they would simply pat me on the head and let me go on my merry way.  But instead, I'm left to argue with these know-it-alls as to why I don't crowd my newborn's crib with Baby Einstein toys or why I snatch her from her crib anytime I see the need for closeness in her tearful eyes.  

The more I get to know my daughter, the better I'm convinced that my way of parenting her is correct.  While I'm well aware that each child is an individual with his or her unique needs, I must also keep in mind the bonus of learning to navigate the care of a baby with Down Syndrome.  Sometimes I'm unsure of whether Ava Leigh does certain things because of an extra chromosome, or if she does them simply because she's a newborn.  I'm grateful that most of the time, I can't distinguish the difference.  Whatever her actions are -- unless they're a potential threat to her health -- I choose to view as a product of Ava Leigh just doin' her own thang.  

So while I DO want her to learn and grow and reach the milestones that will cue us into her functionality, reaching these milestones isn't a letter-graded contest.  I know that the by-the-book moms out there might not understand my intention to focus on nurturing more than checking skills off of a list, but my theory is this: as our daughter learns to trust that I will love her and meet her needs, I hypothesize her eagerness to learn will be rooted in her need for social interaction and artistic stimulation.  I know that most people view an infant as possessing the personality of a small round rock, but I believe my daughter genuinely love people.  She's an angel in public, especially when there's a crowd of faces above her, peering into her carrier.  Her favorite people (besides mommy, of course) are men with rich, resonant voices (which I understand is unusual -- most babies prefer female voices).  She loves being spoken and sung to, and is content in the company of shoppers and Great Danes alike.  

And you should really see her cut a rug to some Chopin!  I don't think it's my imagination when I notice that her kicks and flails adjust to the tempo of the music.  Incredible.  

Every child is a puzzle.  Or better yet, a Rubik's Cube -- ever-turning, with more than a single solution possible.  I can't wait to better understand the unique riddle of Ava's capabilities.  I have a feeling that she will continue to astound and inspire us.

Throw yo' hands up in the ay-irrr....

...and wave 'em like you just don't care!