So what exactly is a "good baby"?

Baby Z is so popular. Every time we go somewhere, she makes friends: random strangers that just have to come check out the baby with the awesome cheeks. Among other things, I always hear "She's such a good baby!", to which I often reply "Yes, she's a really calm baby." Though she has her moments, for the most part, she has her own little zen to her. If you don't bother her, she definitely won't bother you.

But then I started thinking. What if she wasn't like that? What if her natural disposition was feistier, more aggressive, easily excitable? What then? Would she no long be a "good baby"? Would she be a "bad baby"? We're all born with different dispositions, and though some may be easier to deal with than others,there is no hierarchy. Well, there shouldn't be. 

When I see babies that seem to cry a lot (or are at least crying a lot in that moment) I can't help but to think if people are judging that baby by the same criteria they use with baby Z:

Quiet baby = good baby.
Crying baby = bad baby.

More importantly, I wonder what the parent is thinking. Is (s)he thinking the child is bad? That question seems like its answer would be obvious, but I've written before about the crazy things I've seen from parents. Just as my daughter is able to absorb the happy, peaceful energy of those that think she is so "good," other babies absorb the anxious, angry energy of those that think they are "bad."

I believe in the value of a baby's cry, so I'd never just write one off as being a "whiny baby," but I know everyone doesn't think that way. I've heard people say things like "He just likes to cry," and "Ignore her. She cries all the time." If only these parents were aware that their dismissive reactions only promote more of the same behavior. (To clarify, I'm talking about actual babies, not 4-year-olds that are crying because they want another Ring Pop. That's a whole other topic... DING *light bulb goes off in head* Think I just thought of another blog topic!)

I hate to see children that actually believe they're bad. It's sad to see corruption at such a young age, but it happens, more often than I'd like to think about. I've heard young boys declare "I'm IS bad!", as if the opposite could in no way be true. What can you expect for a child who, at 4 years of age, has already been convince, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his very core and nature are bad, not good? How do you expect him to treat others? Himself? What type of life do you foresee him having? It doesn't look good.

On baby Z's behalf, I thank the strangers for their kind words, but I hope they have that same kind approach with other babies, too. 







Zara's Mommy, Nadirah Angail

A Night Out With The Girls. So Necessary

My girls asked me to ride to the mall with them on Monday to do some shopping. I almost said no because I had a cold and didn't really feel like packing up the baby to bring along. Luckily, I changed my mind.


Her father was home, so I decided against bringing Zara. She goes EVERYWHERE with me and I was really in need of some me time. I needed to be able to relax and not worry about if she's hungry, wet or tired. And it wouldn't hurt to have two free hands with no baby in them. Of course the decision to leave her was a gamble, because I'd tried leaving her with him before and it didn't go over so well. See for yourself.

I was out, enjoying myself and having a great time, when I got a call like this:

*My phone rings and I answer*

Me: Hello

Husband: She's crying *Spoken over the intense yelling of our daughter.*

Me: Well, did you give her the bottle?

Husband: She won't take it. *Baby still yelling. Same intensity.*

Me: *Thinks for a second* Put her in the car and bring her to me. (I was only five minutes away at a party. I’d been dropped off and didn't have a ride home yet.)

Husband: I can't drive with her screaming. *Starting to sound agitated.*

Me: Well, I don't have a car. What am I supposed to do? *Sounding just as agitated*

Husband: I don’t know. CLICK

Me: Hello? HEEE-LLLOO? I know he didn't just hang up on me. *Calls back* Did you just hang up on me?

Husband: She's crying I have to go. *Hangs up again*

My initial reaction was to get a huge attitude and go home to have a nice argument about how that was so rude and uncalled for. After about 30 seconds, my more relaxed and logical reaction was to not take it personally and to understand that he's just frustrated and is still getting used to being a father to a newborn.

I got a ride home from my aunt and rushed into the house, arms outstretched, ready to relieve him of our crying daughter. I expected to hear the same yelling that had played interference on the phone call, but it was silent. I went upstairs and found my husband holding a quiet, but wet, towel-wrapped baby. He had put her in the tub to calm her down. She loves the water.

Sidenote: I do believe she could give Michael Phelps a run for his money.

Anyway, it turns out I had rushed home for nothing, but I was glad he had gotten it under control. To ward off the chance of a cry attack happening again, I took her with me and went back to the party.

So, that's what happened the last time I left her with her dad. Still, I left her again, even though I was going far more than five minutes away this time. I figure he's got to learn how to handle that type of behavior sooner or later.

I didn't do much at the mall. Just walk around with my girls and help them pick out clothes. I didn't buy anything other than a .97 cent pair of leggings for the baby, but I had a great time. Just being able to get out of the house and do something that had nothing to do with mothering was great. By the end of the night, I was missing my poopoo and ready to get back on the grind. What a difference a few hours makes!



Zara's Mommy,
Nadirah Angail

One of the Worst Things a Mother Can Hear

I was in the shower a few nights ago (something that has become a luxury for me since I don't always have time for it anymore) and heard a horrible sound: my daughter crying. I usually can't hear much over the roar of the rushing water, so you can imagine how loud it was. I jumped out of the shower, head full of shampoo, and sprung into action.

"What's wrong?" I asked her father as I scooped her from his arms.

"I don't know. She just started crying. She wouldn't take the bottle." I used my usual comforting techniques (talking to her, bouncing her, nursing her) but none of them worked. She only cried louder. After a minute, I was beginning to get worried. She doesn't usually cry when I'm holding her, especially not this loud. I inspected her body to see if maybe something was hurting her, because it was one of those piercing, "I'm hurt" cries. Nothing. I tried all my techniques again, this time making a little prayer with each one. Still nothing. The cries just got louder.

I could feel my heart ripping as the cries worsened. I couldn't take it. I felt like she was saying "Help me, PLEASE! Do something!" And all I wanted was to do something, but I didn't know what. I couldn't figure out what she needed. That's a horrible feeling for a parent, to know that your child has a need that you can't meet. The one job I have it so take care of her and give her everything she needs and at that moment I felt like I was failing miserably. Finally, after about 5 minutes (which felt like an eternity) she quieted herself down and began slurping down milk like nothing had happened. Other than the red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, there was no evidence of what had just happened. She was completely back to normal, and I was forever changed.

Zara's Mommy,
Nadirah