Free Range Torys. And Ians.
I crammed a lot of useful stuff into my brain during vacation. Most of that brain detritus is memories, such as the time we went to the zoo, the time we went to the other zoo, and the time I lost my mind after being trapped in a single-room hotel room with three small children for days on end.
I also discovered some helpful parenting techniques. For example, I realized that I could feed the boys solids without strapping them into high chairs or otherwise restraining them, although sometimes I wish I had a couple size 12-month straightjackets to keep their arms down.
When we left on vacation I had to make a difficult decision: Pare down the amount of stuff we needed to pack, or take two vehicles. I suppose we could have rented a trailer as well. I took a hard look at our high chairs while packing. They’re the portable type that straps onto a normal dining chair and takes up less space as long as you don’t mind that you can’t push your chair back into the dining table because there’s a giant plastic seat strapped to it. Even without a chair attached to it, they still take up a fair chunk of real estate, especially when trying to fit two of them into the back of a Subaru. I decided they weren’t worth it, that we had enough other stuff to load into and out of the car, and then find space for in our hotel room. I could strap the boys into the double-stroller for mealtimes, which basically functions exactly like a double-high chair anyway, except it’s harder to clean.
A funny thing happened on the trip, though. When we pulled back into the hotel lot after an exhausting day of chasing the kids around a learning opportunity while trying to force some pleasant memories, we just didn’t have the energy to lug the stroller back to the room. We already had three children to herd, a diaper bag, feeding paraphernalia, and a bag full of souvenirs to take upstairs. So I found myself at mealtime ready to feed two hungry babies, but lacking anything to strap them into.
The solution was to slap bibs around their necks and let them roam free. This proved to be a challenge because, well, they were roaming free. Sometimes that meant they were more interested in the toys littering the room than the food, and I had to constantly reposition them so their mouths were facing me. Other times they were more interested in the food than life itself, and I had to fend off babies climbing all over me to get to the jar. Sometimes a baby, most often Ian, would grab the spoon and attempt to bypass my pathetically slow spoon wielding and feed himself. Usually it meant that I had one baby with zero interest in eating, and another baby ready to mug me for the jar. It also meant they’re mouths were moving targets, which resulted in lots of food ending up around their mouths or on the carpet, which would have been tragic if I had to clean those carpets.
Despite these headaches, I found a benefit to free-range feeding: The boys were calmer than usual. Too often at home, spoon-feeding degenerates into screaming and the boys refuse to swallow. I assumed they didn’t like my cooking, but on vacation I realized they didn’t like being restrained. They became frustrated that they couldn’t climb to a toy or all over me, and started screaming.
When we returned home, I tried never strapping them into their high chairs for spoon-feeding. That experiment lasted for two meals before I became too frustrated at constantly repositioning both of them, and I developed a compromise. I know they’re about to suffer a mealtime meltdown when they’re unhappy before the feeding even begins. Maybe they didn’t nap well. Maybe they’re extremely hungry. Maybe they know I’m making spinach. Whatever the reason, they’ll start screaming secure three of the harness’s five points. If I just leave them on the floor, they stay happy enough to finish a steaming bowl of creamed carrots.
I use both high chair and non-high chair techniques, and have good success. Now, trying to watch TV while the children sleep on the other side of the hotel room; that I never did figure out how to do.
I also discovered some helpful parenting techniques. For example, I realized that I could feed the boys solids without strapping them into high chairs or otherwise restraining them, although sometimes I wish I had a couple size 12-month straightjackets to keep their arms down.
When we left on vacation I had to make a difficult decision: Pare down the amount of stuff we needed to pack, or take two vehicles. I suppose we could have rented a trailer as well. I took a hard look at our high chairs while packing. They’re the portable type that straps onto a normal dining chair and takes up less space as long as you don’t mind that you can’t push your chair back into the dining table because there’s a giant plastic seat strapped to it. Even without a chair attached to it, they still take up a fair chunk of real estate, especially when trying to fit two of them into the back of a Subaru. I decided they weren’t worth it, that we had enough other stuff to load into and out of the car, and then find space for in our hotel room. I could strap the boys into the double-stroller for mealtimes, which basically functions exactly like a double-high chair anyway, except it’s harder to clean.
A funny thing happened on the trip, though. When we pulled back into the hotel lot after an exhausting day of chasing the kids around a learning opportunity while trying to force some pleasant memories, we just didn’t have the energy to lug the stroller back to the room. We already had three children to herd, a diaper bag, feeding paraphernalia, and a bag full of souvenirs to take upstairs. So I found myself at mealtime ready to feed two hungry babies, but lacking anything to strap them into.
The solution was to slap bibs around their necks and let them roam free. This proved to be a challenge because, well, they were roaming free. Sometimes that meant they were more interested in the toys littering the room than the food, and I had to constantly reposition them so their mouths were facing me. Other times they were more interested in the food than life itself, and I had to fend off babies climbing all over me to get to the jar. Sometimes a baby, most often Ian, would grab the spoon and attempt to bypass my pathetically slow spoon wielding and feed himself. Usually it meant that I had one baby with zero interest in eating, and another baby ready to mug me for the jar. It also meant they’re mouths were moving targets, which resulted in lots of food ending up around their mouths or on the carpet, which would have been tragic if I had to clean those carpets.
Despite these headaches, I found a benefit to free-range feeding: The boys were calmer than usual. Too often at home, spoon-feeding degenerates into screaming and the boys refuse to swallow. I assumed they didn’t like my cooking, but on vacation I realized they didn’t like being restrained. They became frustrated that they couldn’t climb to a toy or all over me, and started screaming.
When we returned home, I tried never strapping them into their high chairs for spoon-feeding. That experiment lasted for two meals before I became too frustrated at constantly repositioning both of them, and I developed a compromise. I know they’re about to suffer a mealtime meltdown when they’re unhappy before the feeding even begins. Maybe they didn’t nap well. Maybe they’re extremely hungry. Maybe they know I’m making spinach. Whatever the reason, they’ll start screaming secure three of the harness’s five points. If I just leave them on the floor, they stay happy enough to finish a steaming bowl of creamed carrots.
I use both high chair and non-high chair techniques, and have good success. Now, trying to watch TV while the children sleep on the other side of the hotel room; that I never did figure out how to do.
posted by Matt at
11:21 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home