Today is April 22nd. It’s Earth Day. Today is Quentin’s 1st Birthday.
It was a wonderful day: presents, a picnic lunch in the park, an introduction to goats and of course birthday cake. A warm sunny spring day. No one could ask for better.
But this day also had a twinge of sadness.
You see, Quentin is a preemie.
Born 2 months early his birthday was supposed to be in June. A summer baby like his brother. Not a spring one. A baby that would not be here without serious medical intervention.
I’m not yet ready to tell you the whole story of Quentin beginning to end. It is still too painful and raw. I can tell you that he was conceived with the help of fertility treatments. I can tell you that we fought like hell for years to have him, that we fought again to keep him, and that even though we cried and waited for the worst (which eventually never came) we loved him from the start. Or to be more precise, we loved him from the minute we saw the first confirming ultrasound at 7 weeks.
We have agreed with medical recommendation that Quentin is to be our last. Perhaps the sadness comes from that. Perhaps it comes from the fact that we missed so much with him.
We missed the joy of telling family and friends early, as no one was sure if it was “going to stick”.
We missed the happy glowing second trimester. Instead it was wrought with fetal medicine specialist appointments, bed rest and close calls.
We missed those first days home after delivery when everything is quiet and surreal coupled with chaotic and overwhelming.
We never got to say to anyone “He’s ___ days old.” We didn’t even get weeks. By the time our NICU stay was done those had all passed by, and we were left with odd glances from people when we told them how many months old he was and then fumbling quickly, blurted out something about him being a preemie.
We aren’t going to celebrate the “shoulda been” day in June. That was for something that was never meant to be. And really the sadness only bites when we look back on the year. When we look at Quentin all I can do is smile. And laugh at his weird personality. And hug him. Tight. Because deep down I know that there very easily could have been nothing to hug at all.
Our Montessori infant weaning table & hand washing station: At 11 months Quentin can push back his chair from the table when he’s finished, and open the kitchen cupboards. He still needs help to get out a table setting. The little vase is empty; needing its flower replaced. The “fine art” hung at child’s height above the table is a simple post card in a frame.
In Montessori infant communities children eat at small tables sitting on small chairs as soon as they can sit comfortably. Everything a child uses (similar to the rest of the classroom) is designed to be as realistic as possible. This means real silverware (sized for a small child) and a real place setting including drinking cup.
We use porcelain plates and bowls and glass drinking cups. Although many Montessori material companies sell infant drinking glasses such as these we just have heavy shot glasses for now.
The worry of course is a young child and broken glass. I think what’s important to us is that there is always close supervision of Quentin while he is eating. We also have a linoleum kitchen floor. It may be why we haven’t had a broken piece yet.
Maria Montessori anticipated negativity around using real and fragile dining ware:
…they place more importance on the glass than on the child; an object worth a few cents seems more precious than the physical training of their children. – Maria Montessori. The Child in the Family.
We store everything in Quentin’s hand washing station.
This has worked really well for us. It fits the Montessori principles of being beautiful, functional, and real looking. Quentin has just started washing his hands in the tiny sink.
I suppose the difference in our Montessori home is that not every room is set up in a Montessori way. We have a big house. I need part of it to be just for me. So although the boys have access to and are welcome in the living room there are no materials here. Instead they have their own space. A space entirely dedicated to them and them using materials at their own pace. Their bedrooms, the bathroom and the kitchen all have Practical Life and/or Care of Self aspects in them as well, (that’s another post) so I don’t feel too guilty when I say the living room is just for me.
This is how the space began. Quentin was 4 months old. It has concrete floors so it needed carpet. The wall mirror and movement mat were where we hung the Montessori Mobiles. But the shelf didn’t have a natural flow.
It got better. Quentin got older. This was the space when Quentin was 9 months. The movement mat was gone and so were the mobiles. The all important mirror remained with the new addition of a pull up bar.
His shelves at 9 months:
The pull up bar helped Quentin incredibly with his “pre-walking” phase. Anthony’s shelves are better organized. We also added this:
Quentin’s gross movement area and a reading corner at both boys could easily access.
At 11 months this is the space now.
The pull up bar is gone. A work table that Quentin can independently get up from is key in an infant Montessori space. There are many on the market, but we were lucky enough to have one made out of locally logged cedar by a friend.
So that’s where we are. It’s not perfect, but the boys enjoy it. The big window above Anthony’s work table lets in a huge amount of light and there is a large maple tree right outside where we watch the birds come and go from the feeder. As with all Montessori environments, it will continue to evolve to meet their ever changing needs.
This is Quentin (11 months) and Anthony (12). A big gap, I know.
This is where we live: Sooke, B.C Canada.
And what will follow (with any luck) will be the story of us, as we bring Montessori from the school environment into our home.