Prenatal Awareness – Baby Psychology and Parenting Psychology Interconnect

Our understanding of baby psychology and parent psychology is superficial. Much accepted knowledge is based upon erroneous theories and ideas. Baby psychology and parent psychology are interconnected and affect one another. To properly understand a baby, it is important to understand common negative family dynamics, and serious disorders and dysfunctional behavior patterns that are present in the lives of most people. These factors influence exchanges, agreements, and reactions that occur subconsciously between baby and parents.

Before birth and during infancy (until a child acquires social language skills) baby and parent communications take place naturally and primarily as subconscious communications. When parents are extremely selfish and negative, it creates a distressing and painful mental and emotional experience for a vulnerable and sensitive unborn baby or infant.

From the moment of conception, every human embryo is an extraordinary, amazing, marvelous living entity. Unborn babies are aware of their physical existence and aware that they are alive. In some primitive way, at the outset, they begin making choices, responding, and reacting to their psychological-energetic environments.

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Survivor: Spring Break Edition

My son came barreling through the front door, dropped his backpack to the floor, threw his hands into the air and announced, “I’m on vacation!”

I remember bursting with excitement to get a break from boring homework, cranky teachers, chaotic classrooms and sticky cafeteria floors. Those were glorious days because I was a kid.

Now that I’m an adult, spring break looks a whole lot different. I’ve removed the rose-colored glasses and replaced them with lenses smeared in caked-on mud and dipped in slime.

Now, before you label me a kill-joy mom, let me remind you of the winter we just had. Much of the country endured bitter temps and massive snowfall, which meant school was cancelled a lot. In the words of Taylor Swift, I thought, “We are never, ever, ever getting back to school… Like, ever.” But we did. It’s just that as soon as the snow days ended, spring break started — a two-week break, no less.

Although my fourth-grader was stoked to not have to go to school for 16 days, he was feeling mildly sorry for himself since he had deduced, through various bus chats, that most of our neighborhood was headed to Orlando. A cursory glance at Facebook confirmed his deduction.

“So, what do you have planned, Mom?” my son asked. (Translation: “How will you entertain me?”)

“Well, you and your brother will have to go with me to Wednesday’s dermatology appointment,” I said. “I also scheduled your annual check-up for Friday. Oh, and I’m long overdue for an oil change.”

My son shot me a look that suggested he was none too thrilled with the week’s itinerary. The prospect of banking and grocery shopping didn’t excite him, either. I suggested going to the mall to find pants that actually fit him since his growth spurt has turned his slacks into waders. The mere mention of the word “mall,” however, made him gag.

Wow, I thought. The female mind is vastly different from that of the male.

This concept was driven home this week every time I drove my sons somewhere. The gross, bizarre backseat boy humor was completely lost on me. The noises, looks, phrases and howls left me shaking my head and turning up the volume on the radio.

Spring break, as it turns out, wasn’t very “spring-y.” We had a bit of snow, a ton of rain and mostly brisk temperatures. Such foul weather translated into more iPad and XBox time than I care to admit. The moment the sun peeked out, however, the boys were yard-bound. Those few glorious moments of peace and quiet were the best part of break. But the serenity never lasted long because invariably, the garage door would fly open and I’d be greeted either with a stream of tears, a series of screams or a cry for help.

One day following a request for assistance, I found a rope severely wrapped around the gears of my younger son’s bicycle tires. Apparently, the plan was to attach the rope to a sled and pull each other around by bike. Epic fail. You know when you pack your dainty necklaces for travel and upon reaching your destination, you find your chains in such a tangled mess that you consider tossing the whole lot of jewelry? Well, that’s what this rope/bicycle gear situation was like. I fiddled with it for awhile, but once my fingers were covered in grease and my patience had grown thin, I uttered the words every frazzled mommy eventually blurts out: “Daddy will have to fix it.”

I threw in the towel and packed up the boys to head to the grocery because although the kids were adamant that they didn’t want to shop, they were equally as adamant that they did want to eat.

No sooner did we reach the produce section and the bickering began. Who was going to push the cart? Who was going to pick the snack? Who was going to greet the fishies first?

Then came the check-out line. This is the point in which kids’ hands turn into octopus tentacles as they grab for anything within their reach — even stuff they don’t want or need. Gum, candy, magazines, beef jerky. It all looks appetizing, apparently. Nail clippers, gift cards, batteries, feline breath mints. WTF?

“Put it back.”

Eye roll.

“Put it back.”

Deep sigh.

“Put it back.”

Head shake.

“Put it back.”

Eye roll. Deep sigh. Head shake. Repeat.

This irritating behavior is not as big of a deal if no one is in line behind you. It’s just that almost always someone is in line behind you. And sure enough, there was an older couple waiting to load their items onto the belt. Therefore, I felt the need to explain why my offspring were behaving like zoo animals (only worse because zoo animals don’t scream, “I poop on your face!” to elicit a reaction from their sibling).

“We’ve been on spring break for nearly two weeks now,” I said as I slid the gift cards back into their proper slots.

The woman nodded knowingly and said, “We understand. We just had our two grandchildren here for 10 days and we were counting down to the release date.”

Upon closer inspection, this couple did look worn out, withered, and weary. Mostly, though, they looked relieved.

I returned the smile and congratulated them on their survival skills.

Three days later, I loaded my older son onto the bus, then deposited my three-year-old at preschool. When I got home, I dropped my purse to the floor, threw my hands into the air, and announced to the cat, “I survived vacation!”

Read Christy Heitger-Ewing’s new book “Cabin Glory: Amusing Tales of Time Spent at the Family Retreat” (www.cabinglory.com). Visit her author website at http://christyheitger-ewing.com/.

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The Startling Profound (Yet Simple) Question My Daughter Asked About Racism

We’ve been fighting song #19 ever since we got Mickey Mouse’s greatest hits CD. No matter how quickly we hit “skip” when song #18 is over, I should have known it was inevitable we’d lose at some point.

But when I heard our 5-year-old singing “one little, two little, three little indians,” my heart sank anyways. (Yes, “indians,” not capitalized on purpose. Let’s be really clear: The song’s not about actual, real Native peoples or Indians, not about real people.)

I waited a bit to engage her. I wanted to think it through. Besides, trying to figure out (or try anyway) what to say that a 5-year-old’s conception of the world would actually understand, I also didn’t want to embarrass her or make her shut down because what she mostly heard was that she’d done something wrong.

(One thing I learned from The First “R” is how young kids are when they realize that certain ways they “do” race are taboo and end up getting them shamed by adults. They don’t, of course, stop doing those things as a result. They just learn to do them discreetly when adults aren’t around — very young kids do things adults don’t begin to imagine they are capable of around issues of race; fully racialized worlds most of us are clueless about. And, if I have no other clear goal in all things parental, it’s to try to keep my kids talking honestly with me… making enough space for them that they want to. This goal is certainly no different when it comes to race.)

So, here’s how it began:

“Hey H, Can I talk to you about the song I heard you singing earlier? The one about ‘indians’?”

“Yes, mama.”

“I don’t really want you to sing that song anymore.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that it’s not a very nice song.”

“Why not?”

And there’s the million-dollar question (though not the perfectly amazing one).

It’s often not easy to explain directly and clearly how various images of, references to, or symbolisms evoking people of color and their lives are “not nice.” Our conversations about “racism” are so simplistic so much of the time: “Is it racist or not?” “Did that person mean to be racist or not?” “Should someone be offended by that or not?” These stark options and underdeveloped categories make it hard to have meaningful conversations about what is at stake, or what’s going on, in particular moments when race is being referenced.

Instead, we get pressed to some sort of bottom line: “Bad or OK?” “And who gets to say so?” The questions aren’t even right. And if a question isn’t right, the answer certainly can’t be.

So, how to engage how and why this song — a “ditty,” childish and sing-songy, (especially when sung by a 5-year-old) — so haunts?

Here’s my easiest way. Imagine instead of “indian” (yes, again, not capital) I suggested we start singing with our kids: “One little, two little, three little gay people…” or, “One little, two little, three little Black people…” Can you feel just how wrong that is?

A caricature. A condescension. A cartoon. Not real. Not respected. Not representative of an actual, diverse community that looks nothing like what the community “singing about it” sees and claims the right to describe.

That exercise alone (substituting “gay” or “Black”) exposes, in fact, what’s wrong with this song so many non-Native peoples in the U.S. have been taught to sing. The only reason this song persists is that we (non-Native people) don’t think of Native peoples as real, present (as in right now, today), actual living human beings and communities. And, worse, this ability to erase actual Native peoples in something like a kids’ song completely rests on the actual, concrete attempts to physically erase such peoples.

Songs like the one my daughter was singing participate in this (yes, participate in the logic of genocide). Don’t even get me started about the NFL.

How much of this did I explain to my daughter? None, for now.

“Well,” I said, in response to her asking why it was not a nice song for the second time, “I can’t exactly explain it all right now. But, the people who that song is about — Native American people — don’t like it. They have said that it’s disrespectful. And, since they’ve said that, and we care about respect and kindness, I think we shouldn’t sing it.”

Too simple? Maybe. For now, just-right-enough.

“But Mama,” she said…

NOT, “but I want to anyway,”

NOT, “but they are too sensitive,”

NOT, “but I don’t understand and it’s just for fun, so can’t I keep singing?”

No.

Simply this, from a now clearly, distraught, confused and troubled 5-year-old: “But, Mama, Why would anyone want to make a song that’s disrespectful?”

And that’s the perfectly amazing question. It’s so obvious and so clear. The way she asked left no question about whether or not she wanted any part of disrespect. She doesn’t.

Why would anyone — why do any of us — make or sing such a song?

No fancy analysis needed.

Why is this so much less obvious as we get older?

Underneath the messages we want to teach our kids to learn to unpack (and which we need to get better at unpacking with them) is the simple reality that we’re talking about respect of human beings. Respecting what actual people tell us hurts or not, harms or not.

A 5-year-old gets that. No defensiveness offered from her. No complex arguments needed from me about the meaning of symbols, questions of intent/impact, “proving” something is “not OK to say” for “these reasons.”

A basic lesson about simply listening to what actual people are saying about their own lives. I didn’t have to convince her of a thing. I just had to give her a context for what she already knows. It’s simple. We want to respect people.

She wants no part of song #19 right now. And she knows enough to say why.

Sorry, Mickey.

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How Accurate And Reliable Are Pregnancy Test Kits?

http://www.pregnancychat.com/are-pregnancy-tests-kits-accurate How accurate and reliable are pregnancy test kits? Are Pregnancy Tests / Kits Accurate?

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