A Day In The Life Of An Attachment Parent
By now, you probably already know my stance on parenting styles (all of them suck except for the ones that I come up with myself, like Pioneer Parenting and Dursting), but does that mean I will shut up about them? No. Never.
I forgot to adhere to a style when my kid was little, which is why invented the Keeping Your Kid Alive Parenting Style™, a system that mostly involves checking to see that food goes in the mouth hole, poop comes out of another hole, and that breathing continues to occur. So far, that’s worked out splendidly for me.
Now, I don’t mean to brag, but this weekend my child told me that she would like to be an astrophysicist, not just because it has “fizz” right there in the name, but because she has a real interest in “galaxies unknown”. I take no credit for her precociousness, considering that when she told me this, I was busy testing out dick and fart jokes for maximum hilariousness for you fine folks. I guess what I’m saying is that she’s kind of smart, formula feeding notwithstanding, right? Of course, at that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder: what could she be if I had raised her correctly, according to the gospel of Alison Dixley? So I re-imagined our lives, my life as an attachment parent, circa 2006.
You’ll notice I only fed my child a handful of times back in the day. Besides just being kind of crap at mothering, I mostly did this because my husband took care of our daughter most days while I worked and went to class. We fed her formula because his supply was low. Yes, REALLY.
Now, let’s take a look at how much more awesome my child’s experience would have been if only I had loved her enough:
Oh man, score!