5 Baby Milestones That Will Totally Change Your Life as a Parent

By Denise Stern

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

February 28, 2021

As new parents we live for the developmental milestones of our babies. Smiling at six weeks, starting solids at six months, potty training… and on and on. Our excitment even starts while baby is still in the womb: “Look honey, she’s the size of a kidney bean this week!” As time goes on though, we realize that we as parents have milestones, too!

Below is a completely unscientific and yet 100 percent accurate chart of Baby Milestones for Parents.

Milestone: The day your baby can hold his or her own bottle

Typically occurs: Around 10 to 11months old
What it’s really like for parents: Confusion and disorientation in parent; for several days you will not know what to do with your free hands and lap. Then expect a feeling of liberation. Parents report their homes become moderately cleaner upon reaching this stage.

Milestone: The day breastfeeding feels as natural as everyone keeps telling you it should be

Typically occurs: Anytime between day 1 and day 90
What it’s really like for breastfeeding moms: Overwhelming joy.

Milestone: The day your baby sleeps through the night for the first time

Typically occurs: Anywhere between 12 weeks to 5 years old
What it’s really like for parents: Also known as “The Holy Grail of Parenting,” once parents feel what it’s like to have a child go to sleep from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., they can never go back. Parents report feelings of wanting a second child upon reaching this milestone.

Milestone: The day you decide your child watching “a show” is okay

Typically occurs: Most frequently once toddler drops their nap or when toddler welcomes newborn sibling
What it’s really like for parents: Slight guilt followed by urge to allow child to watch “just one more.” There are LOTS of opinions on this one but only you know the right decision for your family. (Just go with it.)

Milestone: The day that diapers are no longer on your Costco list

Typically occurs: Varies
What it’s really like for parents: Utter disbelief. Parents later report sadness as there are no more babies in the house.

What Parenting Milestones have you reached? Which ones are you excited about? Let us know in the comments!

Denise Stern

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

With twin girls and a boy born 17 months apart, I'm the owner of the world's most ironically named business, Let Mommy Sleep. Let Mommy Sleep provides nurturing postpartum care to newborns and evidence based education to parents by Registered Nurses and Newborn Care Providers.

Are You Going through the Motions or Living Your Life?

By Ali Flynn

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

February 8, 2021

baby and mother

photo: Guillaume de Germain via Unsplash

After many years of feeling drained as a partner and a mom, I decided to take my life back and stop going through the motions.

At some point, I lost a bit of myself along the way of raising my children.

I let go of my passions and only focused on what made my children happy. And the funny thing is, I didn’t even know it.

Years later, upon deep reflection, I realized and recognized the loss I was feeling.

I let go of me.

I stopped living for me and only woke up each day wondering how to make the lives of the people around me more fulfilled.

I let go of me.

I started to become a shell of a person simply going through the motions rather than living life each day. Even before the pandemic, I felt I was living day after day the same life over and over again.

I let go of me.

I didn’t wake up refreshed, ready to take on the day, rather I was tirelessly traipsing through the day with little to no emotion.

I let go of me.

I was trapped inside my own shell, knowing the walls to escape could be broken down, but no one could reach in and help me.

I had to emerge on my own.

And that, my friends, is exactly what I did.

I reached deep into my soul and pulled out the old wounds and dealt with them face to face.

I slowly started to find me.

I gently traveled to the parts that I had been missing, brushed myself off while being wrapped in a warm embrace, and invited myself back in again.

I slowly started to find me again.

I essentially stopped living life going through the motions.

I started living and I let go of the guilt.

I let go of the looming thoughts that burdened me. I stopped feeling selfish for the times I was making myself happy.

I slowly started to find me again.

I started living for my family as a whole.

Not just living for my husband. Not just going about my day for my children. But for me also. For the first time, I was living for all of us collectively.

I slowly started to find me again.

Life has not changed drastically, but how I look at my life has been altered.

Each day I am presented with decisions to make and I am living within the decisions, feeling each and every part of the day.

I am not going through the motions of filling a void in the hollow of the shell that once existed.

And oh, what a blessing it has been.

I found me!

This post originally appeared on Hang in there mama.

Ali Flynn

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

Ali Flynn Is excited to share with you the joys and hardships of motherhood with an open heart, laughter and some tears. Ali is a monthly guest contributor for Westchester County Mom and has been seen on Filter Free Parents, Grown and Flown, Today Parents and Her View From Home.

The Guilt of Being an Older Mom of a Single Child

By Lisa Skene

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

January 4, 2021

Photo: Caleb Oquendo from Pexels

I was 42 years old when I gave birth to my son.

Why 42 years old?

There are several reasons:

I only got married at 33 years old.
I had a demanding career that involved lots of travel.
We lived in South Africa and unfortunately, did not think it was a safe environment to raise a child.
We eventually emigrated to Australia, which involved finding new jobs and settling into life in a new country.

Of course, there is never a perfect time to have a baby, but there was another reason I waited so long….I am not what you would call naturally maternal.

Do not get me wrong, I love children. I dote on my nieces and nephew. When they were little, I would have them over for sleepovers, take them to the zoo and the circus. They are teenagers and young adults now, and I still enjoy spending time with them.

I just did not have this overwhelming desire to have a child.

Until I turned the big 40.

Suddenly I worried I would look back on my life and regret not having a child. I know my reason for deciding to have a child may seem almost unnatural to some people. But my reason for having a child does not make me love my son any less, and I could not imagine my life without him.

So, there I was at the age of 40 trying to get pregnant with my first baby. Understandably at my age, this was not without some heartache, and after three miscarriages we decided to turn to IVF. I consider myself extremely blessed that after only one round of IVF, I was pregnant with my son.

When my son was around 18 months old, we decided to try for a second child, as I did not want him to be an only child. One of the driving forces behind this was the fact my mom was an only child and hated it. She would recount stories from her childhood about how lonely she was and how much she disliked going on holiday with just her parents for company.

Another reason was that as we had immigrated, and we did not have any family close by. I knew my son would not grow up surrounded by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. He would not know the joy of large family gatherings and ultimately, I did not want him to be alone one day.

Unfortunately, after another miscarriage and five failed IVF attempts, I had to accept that a second baby was not going to happen.

I had to face the fact that my son was going to be an only child.

I admit it was tough.

I worried my son was going to be on his own one day with no siblings for support.

I worried he would not get to experience the joy of a sibling relationship.

I worried he would hate being an only child as my mom had done.

My husband, on the other hand, was more pragmatic. He pointed out that we had tried and told me our son would be fine. Part of me knew this was true, but it did not stop me from feeling guilty.

Not being able to give my son a sibling is the one thing I feel most guilty about. I have a close relationship with my brother and sister. Whenever I see siblings playing together, I feel that painful pang of guilt. I know my son will never experience the close bond; you can only share with a sibling.

My son is now seven years old; he has never once asked for a sibling.

In fact, he has told us many times that there is no way he wants a brother or sister because apparently, this would mean:

He would have to share his toys.
He would not get us (his Dad and me) all to himself.
There would be a baby in the house crying all the time.

One day I will tell my son about how he was conceived and how we tried to give him a sibling. I try to focus on the positives, my son is happy, well adjusted, exceptionally bright, and has lots of friends who regularly come for play dates at our house.

As parents, we put way too much pressure on ourselves, we worry and feel guilty when we should not. And whilst I would not say I am entirely over all my guilt, it has eased. When I see his smile, hear his laugh or when we are dancing around the house together like crazy people, I am thankful for my little miracle.

Lisa Skene

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

I am married to Brandon and am the proud Mum of a beautiful son. My mission is to help busy parents navigate the critical milestones of their child’s life. Children are truly phenomenal and can achieve amazing things when given the opportunity to Play, Learn and Grow.

The Sparkle of Christmas & the Hope We Hold

By Tabitha Cabrera

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

December 21, 2020

Photo: Peace of Autism

There is something about the December month that brings with it a sparkle. With twinkling lights, colder weather, Santa, Christmas trees, and advent calendars.

Each year I love more and more the quick turnaround from Thanksgiving to the Christmas season, turkeys to Christmas cookies. Maybe it’s the kids getting older, that I am getting older, or that I have just learned to appreciate the special December festivities. A sweet glimpse of time as we reflect on the year past and what it has given us.

It feels like a season of hope. When I was a child, no matter what the circumstances were, on other days of the week, Christmas felt special. A time to be a kid, wish for that special gift, open stockings filled with candy, and, of course, the token piece of fruit at the bottom: homemade breakfast, cookie trays, and tree toppers.

When I became a Mother, I was excited to fill our son’s stocking, buy him Christmas pajamas, pick a new holiday book, and share our first holiday.

On our first Christmas, my husband bought us matching Christmas shirts, and we took our 6-month-old son, Nixon, to see Santa. I have always loved photos of children with Santa, and especially seeing the numerous different adorable reactions to him. We went to the mall, our little lump of a baby in his Christmas shirt in Santa’s arms. We left with our first family, Santa photo.

A tradition I wanted to keep each year.

Our second year, my husband bought us matching Christmas sweaters, Nixon’s with a gingerbread on it that said, “Oh Snap.” We went to our local train park. Santa was waiting in a train. We got there right when they opened so we wouldn’t have to stand in line. Nixon slowly walked to the back of the train, and with his token half-smile he sat with Santa. The picture was adorable. A success!

On our third Christmas, I was nine months pregnant with our daughter. I knew this would be our last month as just the three of us. We put on our new Christmas Sweaters and headed back to the train park. This year was different. There was a long line to see Santa. Something special needs parents dread. Asking our children to wait in a line with tons of people, lights to look at, the smell of food in the air, and a toddler was not an ideal situation. They moved Santa to a little house, and several assistants were helping with the photos. Nixon hated it. We got a couple of pictures with Santa. I was dripping sweat and had a flash of guilt that I made both of my boys go through the Santa experience with me. Our daughter was born shortly after that photo. But we left with a Santa photo.

The fourth year, we had both kids. We were going to try again. The token Christmas sweaters were purchase. I picked out a cute Christmas headband for our daughter. My husband was working overtime that year, so we planned to go a day that he would get off early. We packed everyone up and choose to go back to the quiet mall and sit with Santa.

It was the last day for photos. When we walked up, the festive person running the front told us that the photo machine was down. That they could not take any more people right now, but if we wanted to wait at the mall, they could call us if the machine came back up.

My husband saw my defeat. He said, “I’m sorry.” As if he was responsible for what was happening.

He knew this year I needed this photo. It has been a year of medical appointments, diagnosis discussions, calls for services, and waitlists.

I was sad about it. I held on to this one tradition, something that brought me so much joy each year. A simple photo to some but to us it took a world of planning and navigating to even make it to that mall. I needed the hope of one Christmas photo with Santa in matching Christmas sweaters.

As special needs parents, we give up so much of the traditional that sometimes we grasp on to a single simple thing, one thing we don’t want to give up on to convince ourselves that we aren’t missing out.

Sometimes we need that hope. We need to know that we can show up even if it takes a mountain of work and leave with a simple Christmas photo.

This year we went to a sensitive Santa drive-through event. I’m not sure if there will be another photo with Santa with matching Christmas sweaters. I do know our son loved it. The whole experience took 30 minutes, he didn’t have to wait in any lines, he didn’t have to sit with a stranger, and his Mom got her Santa photo.

If there is something you are holding on to this Christmas season, keep it, carry your hope, and if you find a way to make it easier to accomplish for everyone, even better.

This post originally appeared on Peace of Autism Facebook page.

Tabitha Cabrera

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

Tabitha Cabrera, lives in Arizona with her husband, and two beautiful children. She works as an Attorney and enjoys spending her time in a public service role. The family loves nature and ventures outdoors as much possible. Come check out her little nature babies

A Letter to My Son Whose Sister Has Special Needs

By Kim Mcisaac

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

December 14, 2020

My Dear Son,

Being an older brother to a sibling with severe autism has not always been easy. It’s a job you never asked for but one you took in stride. At times, it was very difficult, and that is putting mildly. Thank you for loving your little sister wholeheartedly. You were her light in the darkest of times, especially when her life was filled with sensory overload, and nothing made sense to her little body, and she was completely overwhelmed by our world. And when she would lash out and hurt you, and I would have to send you out of the room—you never got mad at her and always adored her.

Thank you for letting her follow you around and always being there to hug her and tickle her, doing whatever made her happy. Thank you for getting down on the floor with her and playing her way, for connecting with her in any way you could.

Thank you for being a loyal big brother and always protecting her when others had no understanding of autism, for loving her and trying to reach her even when she seemed unreachable, for never giving up, and for understanding that her brain worked differently and that it wasn’t her fault.

How could you understand this at 5 years old? You never stayed mad or blamed her.

Thank for being the happiest, easiest-going little boy, especially when my heart was breaking in to pieces trying to come to grips with a life-altering diagnosis. Thank you for understanding that we couldn’t go to playdates because her behavior was so unpredictable. Thank you for never taking out your frustration on her when I know you were disappointed, and for understanding how much extra care and supervision she needed and never complaining.

Thank you for going along with me when I needed that family photo, you know, the ones where you had to smile for fifteen minutes while I chased her and all but wrestled her down. Thank you for holding her tight so I could get that picture while she tried to push you away, kick or roll over you—you took it all in stride. You couldn’t have known how much it meant to me to get that picture. I just wanted a picture of my two beautiful children. I needed some kind of normalcy even though our life was anything but.

There are a thousand examples of how things went awry, things you lost out on, had to give up, had to leave in the middle of—and yes, it was disappointing at times. But your love for her, your connection, never wavered.

I tried my hardest to make it up to you. I tried to spend alone time with you, have others take you out so you could get a break, bring you places, spoil you. You had every video game and Pokémon card that could be bought. Your nana, your grandparents, and aunties saw it, too, and they tried to make it up to you, too.

But how can you make up for a lost childhood, for having to grow up too fast? You can’t. And I’ve felt torn in two at times. My love for both of you so strong, but her needs surpass yours, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

And then came your sisters: two girls, two years apart. A whirlwind you could say, and again you stepped up. Thank you for all the bottle holding, and baby loving, and dealing with all the madness that went along with it. And then things got better a little easier, and you got to be a different kind of big brother.

I’ve read about siblings of Special Needs children; they are sometimes referred to as “glass children.” It means that parents are so consumed with the special needs child that they look right through you and don’t even see you, as if you are a piece of glass.

I immediately asked myself, “Did I do that!? Did you feel invisible like you didn’t matter?” I have handled a lot but I don’t think I can handle this—my mama guilt is coming on full force, I already carry so much.

So I came to you and asked you. Looking you right in the eye, as I tried to hide the fact that my heart was shattering again even considering this. I asked you to be honest; I needed to know. And you told me that you felt like you missed out on opportunities that you could have had. If it wasn’t for having a sister with special needs, that your life would have been different. But you went on to say that it’s ok, and it’s not her fault and it’s not my fault, it’s just what is.

I cry as I type this because it feels like an impossible job to be pulled into all different directions for all these years and feeling that I didn’t get it right. There is no easy answer. But today it doesn’t matter to you, today you just love her for who she is just like always. Today you make time to hug her to make her laugh.

I know you don’t need thanks or even expect it but you sure deserve it. I am sorry that I couldn’t always be the mother I wanted to be for you, that I was pulled into the uncharted waters of having a child with a disability, and some days I could barely keep my head above water.

But you need to know that I thank you for being my life raft even though that was not supposed to be your job. I know this has made you stronger and more compassionate, you are a better person for loving her, for having her in your life.

Thank you for being the best big brother she could ever have.

Love,

Mom

Kim Mcisaac

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

Kim McIsaac , is a blogger at autism adventures with Alyssa . She resides in Massachusetts with her husband and four children . She advocates and passionate about spreading autism awareness and educating and inspiring others . She likes to write , spend time with her family and loves the beach .

Go Ask Your Mom

By Lindsey Althaus

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

November 11, 2020

Photo: Lindsey Althaus

If you’re a mom you know there’s a phrase that you cringe when you hear your husband say it: “Ask your mother.” It’s one that I hear and I think, “Nope! Why are you setting me up for this?” A lot of times I feel annoyed that I have to answer a basic question and Jeremy gets out of it.

But then I’m reminded of our NICU days. It’s this moment I always go back to. I can remember the site, the smell of a sterile hospital room, I can remember the feeling in my chest, the emotions all of it. It’s when Jeremy held Whit for the first time. Whit was on life-support we were hopeful but didn’t know what the next day could bring. We had had a long day. We weren’t approved for the Ronald McDonald house so we were driving almost an hour to and from the NICU every day.

I was the human milkmaid who wasn’t handling the NICU life the way I felt I should. As if that’s a thing. As if they hand you a book upon entering called: How to handle the NICU and other fun facts to get you through this sucky time. I was constantly crying only able to hold my son once a shift because he becomes too unstable. None of this situation was ok. NONE of it.

I remember going to my parents to eat and my phone broke. I lost every NICU picture. Every contact. Everything. I had four days of exhaustion, trauma, and this feeling of guilt that I couldn’t shake and I lost everything. Whitman could easily die and I’d be left with 22 stitches in my lady bits and no video of Jeremy giving Whit his first bath, or a picture of me holding Whit for the first time.

During my meltdown, we decided to go back to the NICU one last time before heading home for the night. We walked into the room and the NICU nurse was in we introduced ourselves and she asked if one of us wanted to hold Whitman. I said let Jeremy. And Jeremy didn’t dare argue that logic. I remember the nurse and I moving the tubes and things around and Jeremy sitting in the chair. I remember how delicately he was placed in Jeremy’s arms and I remember this almost calm that had on his face. A weird relief. That maybe, just maybe, we’d make it through with minimum PTSD. We had been through so much in four days. Our lives weren’t anything that we had planned. I was working through a lot. Like how it’s the week of Thanksgiving and I wasn’t going to get to gorge like the big pregnant woman I dreamt of because Whit was here. I was working through the feeling of failure, I’m his mom and I couldn’t even take care of him the right away. I shouldn’t be this guy’s mom. I’m not qualified. He deserves so much better than me.

But at that moment though, when Jeremy was holding Whit the nurse said: “Mr. Althaus he can hear you talk to him.” Jeremy isn’t a man of words so I was expecting his usual: Hi and that was it. But in this deep confident voice, he said: “Hey I’m your dad. It’s not supposed to be like this. But we’re here. I love you. I don’t have any answers but your mom does. Ask her. Always ask her.”

I stood there sobbing which was my new persona those days. The nurse stood there sobbing too. Even though I felt like I failed Jeremy didn’t think so. Even though I was convinced that Whit would be better off with someone else Jeremy didn’t think so. NICU life is a lonely life. No one gets it until you’re there. There are so many roller coasters of emotions. Your sweet babe takes two steps forward three steps back. On days when I feel like I’m failing, I think of the day that Jeremy said ask your mom for the first time. Though today those words can drive me crazy I never take it for granted because there was a time when we weren’t sure that Whitman would be here. The NICU saved our baby and helped make him the thriving 6-year-old he is today. And for that I’m grateful.

Lindsey Althaus

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

Lindsey is a mom, wife, and blogger at The Althaus Life. She lives in Ohio with her husband and 2 children. Lindsey is grateful all things and to be able to chronicle her beautifully broken laugh til you cry cry until you laugh life.

Hey Moms, You Do Not Have to Enjoy Every Moment

By elham raker

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

October 21, 2020

Photo: Matt Walsh on Unsplash

If you’re a mom you’ve heard this more times than you can count, “Make sure you enjoy every moment, it goes so fast.”

This comment usually comes at you from a complete stranger about two minutes after your child had a complete psychotic breakdown (aka tantrum) and right before you’re about to have yours. And you’re thinking “What the actual…?” And then the mom guilt seeps in because you’re a horrible mother for not enjoying every single moment of every single day with your precious child! Ummm..no!

I remember those days, and I sometimes miss those days. But to be told to enjoy Every. Single. Moment. Of. Motherhood….that’s redic! We all have bad days, weeks, maybe months. There are some days that have you thinking about bedtime before your kid has even had lunch. There are some days that the TV becomes your babysitter and you just don’t care. And you know what…that’s all okay. We cannot possibly enjoy every moment of motherhood. Yes, we love being a mom. Yes, we love our children. But no matter how fast they may grow up, sometimes they can be obnoxious and slightly unloveable!!!

I go to Trader Joe’s every Tuesday morning, completely kid-free. No one slowing me down, no one complaining, no one asking to have 25 lollipops because she found the freakin’ pelican. It’s glorious, it’s freeing, it’s like a little slice of heaven on earth! But then, I see a mom with a kid or two in tow. One is sitting in between the slats in the front of the cart, with his chubby little thighs sticking out. The other is inside the cart, torturing her little brother when her mom is not looking. I see her and I think, man, I miss those days. I miss having my kids with me, I miss those chubby thighs and squishy tummies. And it takes everything in me not go over pinch the baby, but I control myself. (There is a reason I choose to be a pediatrician after all…I love the babies!)

So here’s the thing: You can love it and hate it, you can not wait to get out of the toddler phase, and miss it when it’s gone, you can want to kill your kids and love them so much that you would die for them. You can feel all of these feelings and it’s all okay. Yes, the days are long and the years are short, as the saying goes, but you don’t have to enjoy all of it to be a good mom. Just remember to enjoy the good moments, no matter how small. The snuggles in bed, the quiet time reading a book, the early morning cuddles, the bath time shenanigans when the bathroom is a complete mess but the kids were laughing the whole time. Just enjoy those moments, and stick them in your hard drive. You’ll need them for all the other 1,439 minutes in the day! And please, please, please let go of the mom guilt on this one because as much as I miss those little chubby cheeks and thighs, I love the phase they are in now and the more “grown-up” conversations we get to have!

elham raker

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

I'm a mom to 2 busy kids and a pediatrician. My blog is about all things mom, doctor and how the two come together. My goal is to help you find your voice while I find mine and help you become your best version while I become mine!

Hey Moms: Stop Putting Your Own Needs on Hold

By Justine Jalaff

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

May 12, 2020

Photo: Sai De Silva on Unsplash

My whole career as a stay-at-home mom I never thought myself capable of balancing anything more than taking care of my home and family. I put my whole heart and soul into caring for my children but little heart into caring for myself. I have put my children’s needs above my own.

Of course there is nothing wrong with being unselfish and putting others first. Especially your children. But, you cannot neglect yourself.

School, work, self-care. All of it went right on the shelf when I became a mother. And I’m sure I am not the only one. Motherhood, at the beginning with young children is often chaotic, overwhelming, and just plain exhausting. Suddenly having these precious lives in your care can be a daunting task.

I don’t have any regrets of my decision to stay home exclusively with my children. I believe it is what I needed to do to figure this whole motherhood thing out. But now I am finding myself yearning for something more. More for me.

A desire to change my way of life has snuck into my heart. Ideas and exciting projects have formed and are constantly forming within my head. Having the opportunity to find ways and time to work on my ambitions has become a constant goal.

Not being home with my children 100% of the time doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, I am coming to believe that I will be a better mother if I can get away and do more for me. Focus on some of my dreams and passions.

Too often do women, and I believe more often mothers, put their own desires, needs and passions on hold.

I understand finding the balance can be difficult. We, as mothers and women, need to learn how to reach out beyond ourselves and find the help we need. We cannot parent alone. We need to share the load with our partner or spouse, ask family for assistance, or find a suitable caregiver to give us the time we need. We need to learn to let go and realize the whole world will not crumble if we take some time away to do what we want to do.

It is a constant battle for me to fight the mommy guilt. To let go and know everything will be ok without my presence. But I know it is something I need to do to feel happy. And I cannot neglect my own happiness. Of course I will continue to give everything to my children but I’m also making my dreams and passions a priority as well. I’m starting to open up the opportunities for myself to walk out my door, leave the guilt behind, know my children are in good hands, and rebuild myself into who I invision I can become.

Justine Jalaff

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

I'm a big believer in opening up your raw emotions and feelings as a mother and woman for the world to see. We need more reality displayed online versus the picture-perfect moments.

Secrets Teachers Use to Keep Kids on Task

By Hilary Scharton

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

April 24, 2020

Photo: Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

So we’re home now, for the most part, and trying to get stuff done with our significant others, kidlets, and even pets demanding attention. If you’re like me, you might be feeling some mom guilt and trying to do Pinterest-worthy supermom activities to keep your kids entertained. It was always frustrating, when my daughter was younger, to spend an hour setting up some fantastic art project or activity (cookie decorating anyone?) only to have my kidlet spend approximately 3.5 minutes doing the fun thing before losing interest. And now we’re supposed to keep our children on-task long enough to do “school?”

So how do teachers do it? I’ve been lucky enough in my career to get to watch some masterful teachers and discover a few tips for keeping kids engaged.

In their book “How to Help Children with Common Problems,” Child Psychologists Charles Schaefer and Howard Millman noted that the first thing to remember is that a child’s attention span is about two to five minutes for every year old they are. Your typical elementary student has maybe 20 minutes of focus they can spend before they get distracted. This isn’t something they can control, either. Your ability to attend is dependent on the amount of myelination your neurons have. Kids are growing that myelin over time so attention is highly individual and also dependent on personality, environment, history, and physiological state. But there are some things you can do to optimize the amount of time your child can pay attention.

1. Establish Routines. This is the single most important thing you can do. Kids love love love routines. The magic is in knowing what’s next. Ever had a movie or book your child wanted to hear over and over and over? It could be that the content is excellent, but it’s more likely that your child gets a lot of comfort from the repetition. It lets them see the world as predictable and safe. Teachers know this and post classroom schedules on the wall or the board where everyone can see. If possible, make a down-to-the-minute schedule, keeping in mind how long your child’s attention is, and stick to it every day.

2. Keep Instructions Short. Following a list of instructions is actually a fairly sophisticated activity. You have to listen, pay attention to what’s being said, put those words into your short term memory, and recall them after some time goes by. Expecting our kidlets to hold on to three or four or eight different tasks while they’re also trying to get stuff done really isn’t reasonable. If your child can read, they’ll be much more successful if you write the tasks down. If your child is younger, give them one or two directions at a time and have them come back to you for more.

3. Moderate Your Volume. It’s usually less difficult when you’re trying to get the attention of a handful of kids (or fewer) than when you’re trying to corral a whole classroom of 30, but getting any number of kids to listen is sometimes a challenge. Something we know from decades of physiological research into attention is that people, no matter what age, are more interested in things that are novel. Think about what that might mean for your own voice giving instructions to your own children. How often have they experienced that? Probably enough to strip your voice of any iota of novelty. You don’t need to have a repertoire of celebrity impersonations at the ready (although that would be fun), you can get more attention by whispering or singing or changing your timbre than you might expect.

Hilary Scharton

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

Hilary Scharton is the VP of Innovation, Instructure Canvas, the open online learning management system (LMS) that makes teaching and learning easier.

To the Mothers who Struggle With Postpartum Depression

By Catherine Buhler

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

March 20, 2020

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Two and a half years ago I was in the hospital gazing down at my newborn and I couldn’t stop the tears. The tears signified helplessness, confusion and anxiety. I knew the cries were from postpartum depression. This wasn’t the tender and compassionate moment I was imagining. I so desperately wanted to feel thrilled, but my hormones were raging and my emotions were kicked off balance. At the time, I didn’t know how to deal with the feelings so I masked it up with makeup and went on my way. When I got home the anxiety consumed me and I often had moments of guilt and sorrow. My sweet Husband held me tight while burping our babe and taking over diaper duty.

The dark memories of those first few days are happy because he helped me adjust and survive. You know what else helped me survive? Taking away the pressure of being the Mom that can flawlessly handle a newborn all while cooking and cleaning in high heels. If we are being completely honest here, there were hours when I didn’t get out of my pajamas. Days where I didn’t shower until 4pm. Whole weeks where I didn’t make one decent meal.

Once I took that pressure off myself I was better able to function. It was in these minutes where I took time to cherish my newborn, to sing to her, kiss her, snuggle her, bond with her, and not worry about anything else. It was in those moments where I figured out what was important, what I needed to do, and how strong I was.

Little by little as I took care of myself by lowering the artificial theories of motherhood, I was uncovering my true happiness. I felt happy just me with my baby, in my yoga pants, and undone hair. Little by little I was able to feel more comfortable in my new calling and I felt more confident in my role. I learned how to ask for help, relinquish control, and let go of the expectations of what the world defines as the “perfect mother.” (By the way, there is no perfect mother. Just women who are loving their children, perfectly.)

And that is why the only advice I give to new moms is to not get out the vacuum, don’t pick up a spatula and put down the blow dryer. Enjoy these moments; take a break from cooking and cleaning, take care of yourself. Trust me…the dishes and the laundry can wait. Your happiness can’t.

Catherine Buhler

Tinybeans Voices Contributor

Hi, i'm Cat! We live in Orlando, Florida where my husband works for Mickey Mouse (no, really). We have two kids, Samantha (5) & Preston (2). I suffer from a chronic illness called Short Bowel Syndrome. My ramblings are dedicated to travel adventures, nap time confessions and my medical journey. Cheers!