The first thing I need to say, by way of introduction, is that I didn’t exactly intend on plan on practicing attachment parenting. I mean, I didn’t set out and research the concept; I didn't buy books on attachment parenting or make a list of all the items I’d need in order to, uhh, attach to my child. Pretty quickly, though, it became apparent that my way of parenting — based on the culmination of all the individual choices I made — was basically attachment parenting. So, OK. I guess when you’re already a bit of a hippie, this way of parenting just comes naturally.
I know attachment parenting isn’t for everyone. Hell, most of my friends and family look at my partner and I like we’re crazy (I’m looking at you, brother-in-law, and how you feel about co-sleeping). I hesitate to label myself as such because the label itself can be off-putting to the point of unduly alienating people from what are (if I do say so myself) some damn fine parenting practices. But since we do all of these things, I will own the polarizing label and write about my experience.
And honestly, it's a good thing that I am. I’m tired of feeling the need to defend the fact that I prefer to wear my kids instead of wheel them, that I would have a hard time not being able to feel my son breathing when I reach over to him during the night, and that a schedule is not always the best thing for every baby. I won’t judge you for letting your child cry it out if you don’t judge me for not letting mine cry.
When your parenting style is a little on the fringe, you run into all sorts of situations that can be hilarious, awkward, embarrassing, or any combination of the above. My policy has always been to try and laugh about it, whatever “it” is. Because let’s be honest, nothing diffuses awkwardness better than laughter, right?