The day to day business of parenting is pretty easy. Diaper changing, book reading, cup filling, baby totin', etc? Easy peasy. It's when you throw in an actual child that things get complicated.
You have to contend with squirming, crying, fussing and cussing. And you think pregnant women are moody? Honey, baby and toddler moods switch so quickly you could get whiplash. Grinch and I often remark to one another, over the angry wails of a certain tot, "Five minutes ago, everything was funny. Suddenly, NOTHING is funny."
And here's a surprise: 3-and-a-half year olds have very strong feelings about things. Very strong feelings that they don't tell you about until it's too late. "nononoNOOOOO! I wanted to peel the clementine! Aaaaaagh!" "Where are my pink monkey pajamas?" In the wash. "WHAT?! I wanted to wear those tonight. Aaaaaagh!" "I can buckle my own belt! Aaaaaagh!" You get the idea.
My best response to these outbursts is to say, "I didn't know that, darlin'. Next time you can (fill in the blank). Next time. Hey! Look! Charlie is chewing on your sister's sock! heehee!" and I go on about my business.
That works pretty well with the bug, but Dos doesn't know anything about "next time." All she knows is that you made her mad! right! NOW! Diaper change: Waaaaaaaaah! Car seat buckling: Waaaaaaaaah! Removal of small objects from her mouth: Waaaaaaaaah! And she, unlike her sister, is a fighter.
My 20-something brothers used to wrestle me to the ground when I was just a pre-teen. I was regularly knocked around by my childhood "playmate". But the pain of being bitten on the shoulder by pointy baby teeth is like no other. And who taught this little angel to slap? Seriously. She has never been hit, never seen anyone get hit, but she can land a slap better than Joan Collins.
I don't know if baby-on-mama violence really hurts, or it's just the indignity getting whalloped by an infant that riles me up so much. Plus, you can't hit back. I go hit the washer/dryer and scream into a pile of laundry instead. If our laundry pile could talk, it would probably repeat some very bad words.
The furniture and the laundry bear the physical manifestations of my frustration and anger. I get it out of my system and go back to the baby or the toddler, hold them close, kiss them, whisper loving words into their ears, sometimes all while they're still wailing about whatever injustice has befallen them. I throw myself back into the fray because parenting is hard, but loving them is easy.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Would you?
Would you be worried if you child's babysitter:
joked about your baby (who, admittedly, cries loud and long), saying, "With her, I know why there's shaken baby syndrome."
told you about your baby's crying jag, trailing off, "oh, baby, you're such a little pill....sometimes."
tearfully told you how she was fired from her former job (not babysitting, but an entirely different field), and included the words, "...and a year and a half later, I'm doing THIS..." (pointing to your living room floor).
while babysitting your child, updated her Facebook account with the words "I went to college for this!?!"
This is a person who is always on time, accommodating to your schedule, gets glowing reviews from other employers and by all appearances is kind, gentle and loving with your children.
There's no reason to suspect any wrong doing of any kind. There's just a feeling that maybe this isn't the exactly the right person for you right now.
joked about your baby (who, admittedly, cries loud and long), saying, "With her, I know why there's shaken baby syndrome."
told you about your baby's crying jag, trailing off, "oh, baby, you're such a little pill....sometimes."
tearfully told you how she was fired from her former job (not babysitting, but an entirely different field), and included the words, "...and a year and a half later, I'm doing THIS..." (pointing to your living room floor).
while babysitting your child, updated her Facebook account with the words "I went to college for this!?!"
This is a person who is always on time, accommodating to your schedule, gets glowing reviews from other employers and by all appearances is kind, gentle and loving with your children.
There's no reason to suspect any wrong doing of any kind. There's just a feeling that maybe this isn't the exactly the right person for you right now.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
She Is
She is strong-willed. When the nurses tried to hold her in, she forced her way out. She was ready, even if they weren't.
She is opinionated. Give her a toy she doesn't want and she dashes it to the floor, using her newly free hand to grab what she really wants.
She is tenacious. She learned to climb before she learned to walk. She did it so she could reach toys that had been placed out of reach.
She is full of wonder. Take her outside and she hushes, taking in the sunlight, the twittering birds, the buzz of the neighbor's lawnmower. She is wide-eyed and looking in every direction. "Show me more!" she seems to say.
She won't be ignored. If her sister is getting lap time, she muscles her way in. If that's not enough she climbs higher on my shoulder. If that doesn't do the trick, she gets into nursing position. The kid knows how to work the system.
She is tough. She rolls off beds, jumps out of arms, falls while learning to walk and barely misses a beat. She's given of a dozen heart attacks, but just keeps going.
She is funny. She'll roll up my shirt-sleeve to get bare skin upon which to blow a proper raspberry. If I'm laying down, she'll lift my shirt to blow on my belly. She chuckles at her own trick and does it again and again just to hear me laugh.
She laughs and cries lustily and with great purpose. There is something wrong. There is something funny. She can't talk, but she can communicate and she does it with unmatched fervor.
She is my Dos. My do-si-do. My monkey. My cookie. My bunny.
She is one year old today. I can barely believe it. The textbooks say she's not a baby any more. She'll always be my baby. My special baby girl.
She is opinionated. Give her a toy she doesn't want and she dashes it to the floor, using her newly free hand to grab what she really wants.
She is tenacious. She learned to climb before she learned to walk. She did it so she could reach toys that had been placed out of reach.
She is full of wonder. Take her outside and she hushes, taking in the sunlight, the twittering birds, the buzz of the neighbor's lawnmower. She is wide-eyed and looking in every direction. "Show me more!" she seems to say.
She won't be ignored. If her sister is getting lap time, she muscles her way in. If that's not enough she climbs higher on my shoulder. If that doesn't do the trick, she gets into nursing position. The kid knows how to work the system.
She is tough. She rolls off beds, jumps out of arms, falls while learning to walk and barely misses a beat. She's given of a dozen heart attacks, but just keeps going.
She is funny. She'll roll up my shirt-sleeve to get bare skin upon which to blow a proper raspberry. If I'm laying down, she'll lift my shirt to blow on my belly. She chuckles at her own trick and does it again and again just to hear me laugh.
She laughs and cries lustily and with great purpose. There is something wrong. There is something funny. She can't talk, but she can communicate and she does it with unmatched fervor.
She is my Dos. My do-si-do. My monkey. My cookie. My bunny.
She is one year old today. I can barely believe it. The textbooks say she's not a baby any more. She'll always be my baby. My special baby girl.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Back to Reality
If you've noticed the sudden increase in the number and frequency of postings here, that's because I took the last week off of work. It's amazing what a little extra sleep can do for one's mood and creativity.
Being a stay-at-home Mom, even for a week is damn hard. I don't necessarily envy anyone who gets to do this full-time. That doesn't mean I wouldn't want to actually do it myself. I think I'd need some outlets, though. The blog for creativity and a place to vent, a group of friends to go out with occasionally and play trivia or see a movie, have snacks and talk, whatever and maybe a class or something to give me deadlines and challenges that I'd have to meet on a regular basis.
For all the heavy sighing, temple rubbing, teeth clenching and "deargodgivemestrength" muttering I did this week, I'm going to miss being able to do all of that well-rested. Sleep and rest make a tough job like parenting a little bit easier. I think wine and chocolate probably help, too.
It's funny: I'll still be here all day with the girls, pretty much like I was over the past week. The difference will be that I won't be here in the mornings with Grinch or on the weekends. It's a big difference somehow. I miss my husband. I miss my best friend.
I get some more time off during Christmas week and I'm really looking forward to it. The knowledge that good times and a little extra sleep are coming my way will help make tomorrow's 1:30am wakeup call a little bit easier.
And you? Thanks for continuing to read this blog. It's not much. It's just my little corner of the internet to prattle on a bit. But I'm glad you stop by. Leave a comment and say "hi", won't you?
Being a stay-at-home Mom, even for a week is damn hard. I don't necessarily envy anyone who gets to do this full-time. That doesn't mean I wouldn't want to actually do it myself. I think I'd need some outlets, though. The blog for creativity and a place to vent, a group of friends to go out with occasionally and play trivia or see a movie, have snacks and talk, whatever and maybe a class or something to give me deadlines and challenges that I'd have to meet on a regular basis.
For all the heavy sighing, temple rubbing, teeth clenching and "deargodgivemestrength" muttering I did this week, I'm going to miss being able to do all of that well-rested. Sleep and rest make a tough job like parenting a little bit easier. I think wine and chocolate probably help, too.
It's funny: I'll still be here all day with the girls, pretty much like I was over the past week. The difference will be that I won't be here in the mornings with Grinch or on the weekends. It's a big difference somehow. I miss my husband. I miss my best friend.
I get some more time off during Christmas week and I'm really looking forward to it. The knowledge that good times and a little extra sleep are coming my way will help make tomorrow's 1:30am wakeup call a little bit easier.
And you? Thanks for continuing to read this blog. It's not much. It's just my little corner of the internet to prattle on a bit. But I'm glad you stop by. Leave a comment and say "hi", won't you?
Monday, December 8, 2008
This is a Message from Mom Corleone!
No more half eaten snacks! No more fussing and cussing about naps and baths and playing with your sister! No more going boneless when I try to hold your hand to cross the street! Do as Mommy says!
....or you sleep with the goldfishessssssssssss........
....or you sleep with the goldfishessssssssssss........
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Parents Do the Darndest Things
"Mommymommymommymommy! I found my snowshoe hare mask!"
"Great, darlin'! Want to put it on?"
"No, I want YOU to put it on. That would be so funny."
"Ok!" (tie tie tie)
"HAhahahahaha! Mommy, that is so silly! Let's hop like bunnies!"
"Ok! " (hop, hop, hop all around the house)
"Weeeehhhhhhh!"
"Come on, Do-si-do. You can hop with meeeeeeeWOOH! You need a fresh diaper. Come on, let's change that." (change, change, change the diaper)
"Mommy, I'm hungry."
"Ok, let's get a snack." (snack, snack, snack)
"Weeeeehhhhhhh!"
"Poor hungry baby." (nurse, nurse, nurse)
"Mommy! Play with ME!"
"Ok, ok!" (play, play, play, dance, dance, dance)
::DING, DONG!:::
"Oh, hi UPS man! Package for me? Great!"
"You must be really busy these days, huh? You look pretty happy about it. What's so funny?"
"Why yes, we have been playing rabbit. How'd you kno-...ohmygod. Excuse me."
So now, along with my dignity, UPS has a release to leave all packages on my doorstep without a signature.
So now, along with my dignity, UPS has a release to leave all packages on my doorstep without a signature.
You're welcome.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
I Don't Do Math Without A Net
I have a liberal arts degree. I have the actual diploma, beautifully framed and hiding in a closet somewhere. Come visit, bring me a piece of your favorite cake and I'll show it to you.
Liberal arts majors, if you didn't know, are notoriously bad at math. It's why shirts like this exist.
I am no exception to this stereotype. Lacking a mathmatical mind and patient teachers, I made it all the way through college counting on my fingers. God, that's embarrassing to admit.
Grinch, who is quite mathmatically inclined, got so frustrated with my finger counting one day, he swatted my hands down and said, "Stop it! You CAN do this in YOUR HEAD. Do it." So I did. I'm pretty slow and I can't do math in front of a crowd, but I no longer look like I'm doing sign language while I try to figure out the tip for a $34 dinner bill.
So this is a leap for me, but it's important. You need to know this. This is important to the future of all potential iphone owners everywhere. Quite possibly, the future of Apple Computers itself relies on this.
I'm working on the following formula:
X x Y = Z
X equals the number of times you drop your cell phone
And Y equals the number of times your partner SEES you drop your cell phone
Z equals the odds that your partner will buy you an iphone for Christmas and it is ALWAYS a negative number.
It is terribly simple and there are other variables I need to include, like the actual price of an iphone, the amount of time you will spend Twittering on your iphone instead of paying attention to your partner. So I've gotten you off to a good start, internet. Let's get to work on this. (I'm lookin atchoo Eli and Wolfgang.)
Liberal arts majors, if you didn't know, are notoriously bad at math. It's why shirts like this exist.
I am no exception to this stereotype. Lacking a mathmatical mind and patient teachers, I made it all the way through college counting on my fingers. God, that's embarrassing to admit.
Grinch, who is quite mathmatically inclined, got so frustrated with my finger counting one day, he swatted my hands down and said, "Stop it! You CAN do this in YOUR HEAD. Do it." So I did. I'm pretty slow and I can't do math in front of a crowd, but I no longer look like I'm doing sign language while I try to figure out the tip for a $34 dinner bill.
So this is a leap for me, but it's important. You need to know this. This is important to the future of all potential iphone owners everywhere. Quite possibly, the future of Apple Computers itself relies on this.
I'm working on the following formula:
X x Y = Z
X equals the number of times you drop your cell phone
And Y equals the number of times your partner SEES you drop your cell phone
Z equals the odds that your partner will buy you an iphone for Christmas and it is ALWAYS a negative number.
It is terribly simple and there are other variables I need to include, like the actual price of an iphone, the amount of time you will spend Twittering on your iphone instead of paying attention to your partner. So I've gotten you off to a good start, internet. Let's get to work on this. (I'm lookin atchoo Eli and Wolfgang.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
