Seton Baby Talk

Week two of Montessori school came with some big changes and few big surprises, and some learning experiences for me as well. Week one was a rough one, of course, and week two started to get a little bit better. Instead of screaming, writhing and trying to get away from the teachers on the way to class, he just cried minus the writhing and escape attempts. I decided that I should take this as a giant leap forward.

The teacher and assistant teacher at his school informed me that Owen, although completely lovable and wonderful, was a bit needy and didn’t show a lot of independence. The decision was made that although he was crying they would let him, “work it out on his own.” Of course as a mom, the only thing I could picture was him bawling his sweet little eyes out in the middle of the room, and everyone just stepping over him, completely ignoring his cries for love and affection. My heart broke into a million pieces and I let them know it...nicely. At that point, an email was sent suggesting a parenting book to me.

I don’t know about you, but unsolicited parenting advice directed at me is unwelcome parenting advice. My claws came out. I was embarrassed and annoyed and it was a good thing I was sitting at my desk instead of standing in front of the person who sent the email as I most likely would have lost my cool. I had a little bit of time to cool off before I went to pick my sweet little guy up.

I drove to the school, muttering under my breath.

I drove into the parking lot, parked my car, opened the front door and do what I always do in those situations. I was nice as pie, said absolutely nothing and fumed on the inside. Typical. I blame it on my upbringing. I grew up with the rules of Midwestern Nice thrust upon me, and I’m still not fully recovered. Letting someone know when I’m angry or hurt or annoyed isn’t the easiest for me.

My sweet little guy was brought out, and although I could tell he had spent part of the time crying, he seemed to be doing alright otherwise. He gave me big hugs and kisses and was obviously very pleased to see me. We grabbed his stuff, and headed to the car. When we were both belted in and ready to go, I took a moment to pull out his daily report from his lunch box to read what the teacher had to say about his day.

“Owen came in crying, but quit in short order. He cried off and on during the day, but we are letting him work it out on his own. Owen ate half of his lunch. We learned about triangles, the letter h, and practiced sorting items by color. Owen has a sour smell about him.”

Insert a record scratching, screeching to a halt, not moving, time standing still moment right here.

“Owen has a sour smell about him,” I read to myself.

“Owen has a sour smell about him,” I read out loud.

Had I been a cartoon, my face would have turned bright red and steam would have come out of my ears, right before completely exploding. To say I was mad was probably putting it lightly. In the course of one day, his new school had basically said, “You are a bad parent and by the way, your kid stinks.”

Are you KIDDING me? My kid stinks? What do you MEAN a “sour smell”?!?

I drove home, with the steam still coming out of my ears.

The second I got home, I pulled Owen out of his seat and rushed inside. I smelled my little guy from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Twice. And then I did it one more time just to be certain. Yup. My kid does NOT have a “sour smell” about him. My little guy smells like sunshine and lollipops thank you very much.

SUNSHINE AND LOLLIPOPS!

I handed him to his daddy for a second opinion. He too smelled him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. “Melanie, he doesn’t smell.”

“I know he doesn’t smell, and you know he doesn’t smell, but apparently our noses are probably as faulty as our parenting skills because I had a parenting book recommended to me today as well!”

My husband burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it either. I burst out laughing too. I mean really. Who does this happen to? Of course it happens to me. Of course. Why wouldn’t it happen to me? I’m the woman who complete strangers confronted about the fact I was having twins when I was only having one sweet baby boy. I really do have some sort of bulls eye on my forehead when it comes to anything pregnancy or baby related.

The next day I wrote an email:

Owen had a “sour smell” to him, was put on his daily report yesterday. Both his father and I smelled him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes when we got home last night, and maybe I’m biased but he smelled like sunshine and lollipops to me.

Can you ask his teacher to be more specific?

Owen has a bath every night before bed where his hair is washed, along with the rest of him, with lavender baby soap. He wears his clothes only once before being washed with the exception of his jackets.

I hate to sound defensive, but I’m a little on the frustrated side.

I felt better the second I hit the send button.

A few hours later my phone rang at my desk and the wonderful woman, who I love, and who also suggested a parenting book to me said, “Melanie?”

“Yes?”

“Well first of all, Owen is doing just fine. He’s having a good day.”

“That’s good.”

“The reason I’m calling is your email. I spoke with Owen’s teacher and she wants me to convey to you her sincerest apologies. That was not supposed to be written in that way. She lets the Assistant Teacher know what to write. What was supposed to have been said was, ‘Owen has a sour STOMACH.’ Owen seemed to have a bit of a stomach ache and was burping upon occasion, and just didn’t seem to be feeling well. That is extremely common with kids that are teething as badly as he is. He has four molars coming in all at the same time, so is absolutely to be expected. It is very apparent that Owen is very well loved, and taken care of, and although it made me laugh to read it, you are absolutely right. Owen smells like sunshine and lollipops.”

Okay. Having a sour stomach is a heckova lot different than having a sour smell about him. That being said, I did get an apology and an affirmation that I do, in fact, take care of my son just fine! In fact, I look after him well enough and want to be a good enough parent that I’m looking into that book that was recommended. It can’t hurt right?