Tuesday, August 31, 2010
2 week notice
I put in my two-week notice at the day care. I just can't do it. No amount of personal time is worth putting my son through this. How can I possibly enjoy myself knowing that he is miserable? I feel like a fool for even thinking this sort of situation might be right for me.
And so it is back to the drawing board, back to snatching minutes of free time while M changes a diaper or takes X to the park, back to wishing like hell I had some family around here who actually wanted to spend time with X, who I didn't feel guilty asking to please fucking help me out once & a while. I have a few friends who have agreed to work for a little pay. We'll see if that actually pans out. Saying one thing is often easier than doing anything at all. And I am terrible, awful, horrible & totally shitty at asking for help when I need it. I would love to find a nanny for X, but I don't think it is something that makes sense for us economically (especially seeing as our jobs are up in the air & may be gone altogether before winter...a topic for another post). I would like to share a nanny with someone, but my only realistic possibility was X's buddy & neighbor, O & now he is in day care....what to do?
And so it is back to the drawing board, back to snatching minutes of free time while M changes a diaper or takes X to the park, back to wishing like hell I had some family around here who actually wanted to spend time with X, who I didn't feel guilty asking to please fucking help me out once & a while. I have a few friends who have agreed to work for a little pay. We'll see if that actually pans out. Saying one thing is often easier than doing anything at all. And I am terrible, awful, horrible & totally shitty at asking for help when I need it. I would love to find a nanny for X, but I don't think it is something that makes sense for us economically (especially seeing as our jobs are up in the air & may be gone altogether before winter...a topic for another post). I would like to share a nanny with someone, but my only realistic possibility was X's buddy & neighbor, O & now he is in day care....what to do?
Monday, August 30, 2010
testing, testing -1-2-3
B handed me down an old kid's tape player, complete with karaoke mic & a silly children's music tape. X can't quite figure out how to hold down the button & talk at the same time, but for the most part he has enjoyed heavy breathing into the microphone & listening to himself holler "PEETABOO!"Saturday, August 28, 2010
big hands, i know you're the one
I am finally managing to accomplish things in the garden without worrying that X will commit sudden suicide! -It is a miracle & it was too long in coming. My poor garden has suffered a long, terrible spell of sore neglect -going on 2 years. You should see the hops! -They were once so splendid, but this year from a lack of water they shriveled right up & failed to produce anything. And you should see the spider mites! -and aphids! The only thing that seemed to fare fine were the basil & tomatoes. And the lavender. That shit never dies.
But now that I've regained my ability to get stuff done, & so long as I have such a sweet, eager-to-help little sidekick ("wake! -mama, wake! -mama, shovel! -mama, pick 'matos!"), I intend to make the most of it. And to that end we spent the weekend moving stuff around, removing neglected beds (too many plants!), creating new, sheltered little hang-out spots (a friend told me my little city lot is an "urban oasis" -you can scarcely turn around without finding a sweet little nook where folks can hang out & have a conversation) & generally preparing the front yard & driveway for grass seed.
Yep, that's right. Grass seed. I spent the better part of the last decade eradicating every last blade of grass from my yard & now I want to plant the stuff. Funny what having a kid will do to ya...
But now that I've regained my ability to get stuff done, & so long as I have such a sweet, eager-to-help little sidekick ("wake! -mama, wake! -mama, shovel! -mama, pick 'matos!"), I intend to make the most of it. And to that end we spent the weekend moving stuff around, removing neglected beds (too many plants!), creating new, sheltered little hang-out spots (a friend told me my little city lot is an "urban oasis" -you can scarcely turn around without finding a sweet little nook where folks can hang out & have a conversation) & generally preparing the front yard & driveway for grass seed.
Yep, that's right. Grass seed. I spent the better part of the last decade eradicating every last blade of grass from my yard & now I want to plant the stuff. Funny what having a kid will do to ya...
Friday, August 27, 2010
trade-offs
One hour of "care" had bought me hours & hours of anxiety & stress, for both me & for X. What sort of trade-off am I making? I am not sure what I was thinking when I signed him up for day care in the first place. What a dumbass! Did I think he would adapt without tears & stress? -I guess I was hoping for that kind of luck, that he was at some sort of golden age when it would just click. A seems to think most kids have to go through this & that it can take several weeks (months?) for them to adjust & finally make it through the day without sobbing. For this I avoided letting him cry it out to gain a few extra hours of sleep? -so I could abandon him in the home of a stranger & let him cry for hours -and for possibly weeks on end? Hell no!
M & I hashed it all out last night in the wee hours before X woke from his 1st stretch of sleep. I hid in the dark of our room & sobbed out all my guilt & all my frustration with my stupid self for being so willfully negligent, so incredibly naive. My dear friend J reminds me that we live & learn, & I thank her for the reminder. I wish my stupid life lessons didn't have to hurt the only person in the world I want least to suffer any pain. I know I can't protect him from the myriad hurts in this world, but I should reasonably be able to shelter him from suffering at my hand. And yet I cannot.
Last night X was a miserable wreck. If he had had his way he would have nursed the whole night through. Every time I tried to extract my breast from his mouth he thrashed around & hollered pitifully about how "wowie" was "all gone." I was able to pat him back into sleep a few times, but his wakefulness was hard to fight. I reminded him gently that "wowie is all gone & it's time for sleep now, but you can have wowies when you wake up." He was obviously traumatized. He had clearly lost a little bit of the faith he had in me, faith that when he fell asleep, or when I wasn't nursing him, I was still there, still available, still his mama, still within the compass circle of his arms.
M & I hashed it all out last night in the wee hours before X woke from his 1st stretch of sleep. I hid in the dark of our room & sobbed out all my guilt & all my frustration with my stupid self for being so willfully negligent, so incredibly naive. My dear friend J reminds me that we live & learn, & I thank her for the reminder. I wish my stupid life lessons didn't have to hurt the only person in the world I want least to suffer any pain. I know I can't protect him from the myriad hurts in this world, but I should reasonably be able to shelter him from suffering at my hand. And yet I cannot.
Last night X was a miserable wreck. If he had had his way he would have nursed the whole night through. Every time I tried to extract my breast from his mouth he thrashed around & hollered pitifully about how "wowie" was "all gone." I was able to pat him back into sleep a few times, but his wakefulness was hard to fight. I reminded him gently that "wowie is all gone & it's time for sleep now, but you can have wowies when you wake up." He was obviously traumatized. He had clearly lost a little bit of the faith he had in me, faith that when he fell asleep, or when I wasn't nursing him, I was still there, still available, still his mama, still within the compass circle of his arms.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
trust busting
I did it again. I broke his trust. Almost 18 months of steadfast dedication down the drain. At least that is how it feels from this raw, immediate point of view.
I should have never brought him to A's today. This is so incredibly clear in retrospect. In fact, if I type the truth you'll probably think I'm a huge asshole too:
He's been teething something fierce, probably getting his 2-year molars (he gets them all early, lucky me -although, looking on the bright side, at least once these are done we're home free for a few years). He's been wanting to nurse all day & night & has been running a low grade temperature that climbs through the afternoon & into the evenings, hitting close to 100 degrees in the middle of the night before falling off towards normal in the morning. I know he's not sick, as there are no accompanying symptoms. It's definitely the teeth.
In any case, last night was another one of those nights. I did not bring him to day care yesterday since he had had a fever the night before & I wanted to be certain I was not infecting other kids with something mysterious. As with most day care establishments, I have to pay for day care when he's sick, even if he doesn't go. Cheapskate me was not going to keep him home two days in a row & piss $35 away for the week. It was already hard enough for us to suck up & agree to shell out cash for care in the first place. So I brought an over-tired, teething, almost-feverish baby to his brand-new day care. Bad idea.
The second asshole thing about it was that his buddy O was there today too. O has been having an awful time adjusting to day care, although to hear A tell it, that's pretty much par for the course with most kids. He sobs on & off all day, refuses to eat a thing & god save you if you try to part him from his pacifier & blanky. Poor guy. At risk of sounding super insensitive, O's troubles become my troubles when, in trying to tell X bye-bye, O sobs wretchedly & clings to my legs. He's attached to me in his own baby way too, seeing as I am someone he sees on a routine basis (being neighbors & friends with his mom).
Today, O was a tear-stained, puffy-eyed, snotty mess when we arrived & joined the gang in A's backyard. X took one look at him & turned to me with his brow deeply furrowed & his lip sticking so far out a bird could have pooped on it. That shit is contagious. I hung around a while & tried to get X interested in the sandbox, the big plastic car, anything. He wasn't going to have it. O was crying, & by god he was going to cry too. I told him "bye-bye" while he was sitting in the car, pretending to turn a key in the ignition. I promised to return soon & headed for the back door & the waterworks began in earnest. He shook the car in a frantic, seizure of anger & confusion. I slunk out of the yard, through the house, out the front door, all the while listening to him wail from the backyard. I peddled away hurriedly on my bike, shaken but assured in my assumption that A would let me know within 5-10 minutes if X was still crying (per our agreement!), at which point I would return & bring him home & consider the day a total loss. But I didn't hear from her. Half an hour passed & still no frantic text messages, so I assumed she was able to calm him & he was playing happily as he had in previous weeks. Not so. A full hour later I got the following text: "Just so you know he's still mostly crying. Moments of not crying. Chewing on his finger near molar area:( Doesn't want snack. As usual, I'm OK with it." As before, I texted back, hopped on my bike & was stumbling across the yard & into a hug within minutes.
I will never in all my life forget the image of my baby standing alone in the middle of a dusty yard, his shoulders slack with resignation, his eyes red-rimmed & puffy, tears soaking the collar of his shirt, & snot streaming down & into his mouth. Why wasn't A holding him? -Why was he standing there all by himself as though he's supposed to be able to self-soothe? -He doesn't have a pacifier! -He's never gone more than a minute (excepting one rare, tragic evening) without having his tears wiped away & his sobbing body cradled in a loving embrace! -He has no idea how to handle this long, awful hour of abandonment. I picked him up & clutched him to me, apologies spilling from my lips into his soft, sweaty baby hair. I offered him my breast & he took it & we sat for a while as I fought back tears. He calmed immediately, of course, but was reluctant to break off from nursing.
Later, I struggled for 3 hours to get him to take a nap. He typically naps around 11:30. I think I finally got him settled into sleep by 4. He refused to let me leave him. In the past, I would nurse him for a spell, & then say "wowie's all gone!" & he would accept that with a shrug & figure out some way to get to sleep without it. Not anymore. If I tried to pop him off I was met with flailing, screaming, wailing: "Mo wowie! -all gone! -Mo wowe! -all gone!" He threw his body around frantically as I tried to rock him to sleep in the glider. I had never before seen him quite so angry.
Bedtime was once a brief 1/2 hour routine but now it stretched into a tantrum-filled, screaming several-hour nightmare. We finally got him settled at 10pm. I dread what the night has in store...
I should have never brought him to A's today. This is so incredibly clear in retrospect. In fact, if I type the truth you'll probably think I'm a huge asshole too:
He's been teething something fierce, probably getting his 2-year molars (he gets them all early, lucky me -although, looking on the bright side, at least once these are done we're home free for a few years). He's been wanting to nurse all day & night & has been running a low grade temperature that climbs through the afternoon & into the evenings, hitting close to 100 degrees in the middle of the night before falling off towards normal in the morning. I know he's not sick, as there are no accompanying symptoms. It's definitely the teeth.
In any case, last night was another one of those nights. I did not bring him to day care yesterday since he had had a fever the night before & I wanted to be certain I was not infecting other kids with something mysterious. As with most day care establishments, I have to pay for day care when he's sick, even if he doesn't go. Cheapskate me was not going to keep him home two days in a row & piss $35 away for the week. It was already hard enough for us to suck up & agree to shell out cash for care in the first place. So I brought an over-tired, teething, almost-feverish baby to his brand-new day care. Bad idea.
The second asshole thing about it was that his buddy O was there today too. O has been having an awful time adjusting to day care, although to hear A tell it, that's pretty much par for the course with most kids. He sobs on & off all day, refuses to eat a thing & god save you if you try to part him from his pacifier & blanky. Poor guy. At risk of sounding super insensitive, O's troubles become my troubles when, in trying to tell X bye-bye, O sobs wretchedly & clings to my legs. He's attached to me in his own baby way too, seeing as I am someone he sees on a routine basis (being neighbors & friends with his mom).
Today, O was a tear-stained, puffy-eyed, snotty mess when we arrived & joined the gang in A's backyard. X took one look at him & turned to me with his brow deeply furrowed & his lip sticking so far out a bird could have pooped on it. That shit is contagious. I hung around a while & tried to get X interested in the sandbox, the big plastic car, anything. He wasn't going to have it. O was crying, & by god he was going to cry too. I told him "bye-bye" while he was sitting in the car, pretending to turn a key in the ignition. I promised to return soon & headed for the back door & the waterworks began in earnest. He shook the car in a frantic, seizure of anger & confusion. I slunk out of the yard, through the house, out the front door, all the while listening to him wail from the backyard. I peddled away hurriedly on my bike, shaken but assured in my assumption that A would let me know within 5-10 minutes if X was still crying (per our agreement!), at which point I would return & bring him home & consider the day a total loss. But I didn't hear from her. Half an hour passed & still no frantic text messages, so I assumed she was able to calm him & he was playing happily as he had in previous weeks. Not so. A full hour later I got the following text: "Just so you know he's still mostly crying. Moments of not crying. Chewing on his finger near molar area:( Doesn't want snack. As usual, I'm OK with it." As before, I texted back, hopped on my bike & was stumbling across the yard & into a hug within minutes.
I will never in all my life forget the image of my baby standing alone in the middle of a dusty yard, his shoulders slack with resignation, his eyes red-rimmed & puffy, tears soaking the collar of his shirt, & snot streaming down & into his mouth. Why wasn't A holding him? -Why was he standing there all by himself as though he's supposed to be able to self-soothe? -He doesn't have a pacifier! -He's never gone more than a minute (excepting one rare, tragic evening) without having his tears wiped away & his sobbing body cradled in a loving embrace! -He has no idea how to handle this long, awful hour of abandonment. I picked him up & clutched him to me, apologies spilling from my lips into his soft, sweaty baby hair. I offered him my breast & he took it & we sat for a while as I fought back tears. He calmed immediately, of course, but was reluctant to break off from nursing.
Later, I struggled for 3 hours to get him to take a nap. He typically naps around 11:30. I think I finally got him settled into sleep by 4. He refused to let me leave him. In the past, I would nurse him for a spell, & then say "wowie's all gone!" & he would accept that with a shrug & figure out some way to get to sleep without it. Not anymore. If I tried to pop him off I was met with flailing, screaming, wailing: "Mo wowie! -all gone! -Mo wowe! -all gone!" He threw his body around frantically as I tried to rock him to sleep in the glider. I had never before seen him quite so angry.
Bedtime was once a brief 1/2 hour routine but now it stretched into a tantrum-filled, screaming several-hour nightmare. We finally got him settled at 10pm. I dread what the night has in store...
Monday, August 23, 2010
the land of make believe
I cut a wedge of peach into tiny triangles & tossed them onto X's tray. I stuck my head in the fridge for a minute, hunting up some cottage cheese & blueberries to round out the meal & I returned to find X had turned one of the triangles up on it's end & was scooting it across the tray. "Boat!" he said, pointing excitedly, "Boat in wawa!" "Yes!" I responded with glee, "It does look like a boat floating on the water, doesn't it!?", amazed at his ability to make the somewhat vague connection between this bitty piece of triangular fruit & a sailing vessel. But it looks as though the door has opened to that great, wide world of his imagination and it is so thrilling to watch him walk right through with no inhibitions.
At Woodstock Park, he grabs my hand & drags me through the low doorway of the child's play fort. We sit together at the tiny table & I ask him what he would like to eat for dinner. "Geem beams," he answers, smiling his slobbery, toothy little grin, or "boobwees!" I motion like I am placing bits of food in front of him & he grasps imaginary handfuls & hoists them to his mouth while he pretends to chew & smack & relish his tasty treats. I led this routine the first time, but ever after he's been in charge. "Peepa!" (pizza) "Keez!" (cheese) You name it, we'll pretend to eat it together nearly every afternoon at the park. Often, other kids will join in & we'll host great feasts together, X & I. He loves watching the other kids enjoy their pretend dinners.
Of all my childhood, this it the thing I recall with the most nostalgia -the ability to lose myself so utterly in absolutely nothing at all. A bunch of wood chips really was a magnificent spaghetti dinner, a handful of bottle caps was loose change, a big hole in the arbor vitae was a place of my own worth living in, if only I could convince my mom to let me sleep out there. Even still when I watch children engage in this kind of play I get a great pang of longing for that feeling of complete freedom that comes from a secret knowing (children have it, grownups lose it) that reality has only those restrictions that you place upon it. If you are able to fashion working wings from the old, brown, eyelet curtains from the upstairs bathroom you may be able to fly. Just maybe. And if you can't actually fly, pretending you can feels almost as good. And when I dwell in these memories my stomach turns a little, like it would if I were really airborne.
At Woodstock Park, he grabs my hand & drags me through the low doorway of the child's play fort. We sit together at the tiny table & I ask him what he would like to eat for dinner. "Geem beams," he answers, smiling his slobbery, toothy little grin, or "boobwees!" I motion like I am placing bits of food in front of him & he grasps imaginary handfuls & hoists them to his mouth while he pretends to chew & smack & relish his tasty treats. I led this routine the first time, but ever after he's been in charge. "Peepa!" (pizza) "Keez!" (cheese) You name it, we'll pretend to eat it together nearly every afternoon at the park. Often, other kids will join in & we'll host great feasts together, X & I. He loves watching the other kids enjoy their pretend dinners.
Of all my childhood, this it the thing I recall with the most nostalgia -the ability to lose myself so utterly in absolutely nothing at all. A bunch of wood chips really was a magnificent spaghetti dinner, a handful of bottle caps was loose change, a big hole in the arbor vitae was a place of my own worth living in, if only I could convince my mom to let me sleep out there. Even still when I watch children engage in this kind of play I get a great pang of longing for that feeling of complete freedom that comes from a secret knowing (children have it, grownups lose it) that reality has only those restrictions that you place upon it. If you are able to fashion working wings from the old, brown, eyelet curtains from the upstairs bathroom you may be able to fly. Just maybe. And if you can't actually fly, pretending you can feels almost as good. And when I dwell in these memories my stomach turns a little, like it would if I were really airborne.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
farm boys
...and after our hike we could not resist a visit to Draper farm for some petting zoo & tractor action (I thought X's head would explode with joy when he caught site of this old school tractor). Oh, & we also managed to pick up 20lbs of peaches that I intend to turn into a dozen pints of pecah-honey yogurt-mixing sauce....mmmmmmm.
old columbia highway
It's been a while since we did any major hiking & I regret it. Since X started running around like a maniac it's been frankly difficult to confine him to a stroller or strap him into a carrier without feeling concern that he is bored out of his mind. Frankly, much of our family time these days is spent entertaining him in some way or another, typically by taking quick trips to the park or to OMSI or the Children's Museum. Thankfully, the bike has proven a great means for us to merge his interest in being entertained & our interest in getting off our fat asses & getting a little exercise.
But today we did manage to get away for a little hiking (paved path pussy hiking, but hiking nonetheless). We timed it perfectly & managed to get to Hood River & the Old Columbia Highway trailhead right around nap time. So, for just over an hour we were able to hoof it through the tunnel & back again. It wasn't a terribly long walk, & the wind on the other side woke up our charge, forcing us to turn around. But it was nice to get out anyhow.
But today we did manage to get away for a little hiking (paved path pussy hiking, but hiking nonetheless). We timed it perfectly & managed to get to Hood River & the Old Columbia Highway trailhead right around nap time. So, for just over an hour we were able to hoof it through the tunnel & back again. It wasn't a terribly long walk, & the wind on the other side woke up our charge, forcing us to turn around. But it was nice to get out anyhow.
Friday, August 20, 2010
block party
We cordoned off the end of the cul-de-sac with B's big truck & held our 2nd annual Felony Flats block party this afternoon. X had his first taste of t-ball & seemed to dig swinging the plastic bat around wildly (thank goodness for baby bike helmets).
Thursday, August 19, 2010
too good to be true
I knew it was too good to be true. Both Wednesday & Thursday X was crying when I went to pick him up at A's at 11:30. On Thursday I wound up going to get him early after I received a disturbing text message: "He's having a hard time. Crying for 5 minutes. I'm okay with it if you are. I just know you want to know." I texted back, "I'll come get him," grabbed my bike & was at her doorstep before my text had time to get to space & back. Both days he was sleepy, rubbing his eyes, weepy & anxious to get to his nap. I hope that is all. I hope he's not feeling uneasy & abandoned & truly sorrowful. He's been nursing an awful lot lately & taking forever to put to bed. I worry that I am being punished somehow for putting him in daycare. I realize how silly that sounds even as I write it. And on the other extreme, I worry that I hobbled him & made it harder by waiting this long. That's silly too, I know. But I am helpless to figure out how to make it easier on him...and me.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
bully
The trouble with being an almost-30-lb 17-month-old is that other children mistake you for someone older, someone with more skills, agility, language & self-control than you can possibly be expected to possess seeing as you are, in fact, still very much a bitty baby. This is the trouble for my poor, big boy & it was heart-breaking to watch his brow furrow in the face of his first encounter with bullying.
We were at the La Leche League meeting & for the first time since I began attending 18 months ago X decided he wanted to play in the toy room with the older children. It was odd to watch him toddle off while the other mothers cuddled their babies or watched them crawl close on the floor beside their feet. My kid didn't need me quite that much anymore. I poked my head in the other room from time to time, just to make sure he wasn't swallowing a choking hazard or beaning himself on the head with something or another. But he was fine. He's almost beyond all that by now. He quickly found a train table & busied himself with rooting through a bin full of tracks and train cars. So I left him there & joined the adults on the other side of the passageway.
After a while he ambled back in & stood beside me for a bit. Another bigger girl around 6 years old (yes, she's still nursing -this is LLL, after all) followed after & bellowed out aggressively: "Whoever is this kid's mom better keep him in here 'cause he's BUGGIN' me & my friends!!" I stared at X, shocked, carefully watchful, waiting for him to react. He stared at her, his forehead etched in a deep wrinkle. I ignored her almost entirely, but her mother didn't & the girl was escorted out for a brief chat with her mom.
But that set the tone for the other kids who, in predictable Lord of the Flies fashion, decided to gang up. I watched for the remaining hour as that same 6-year old & a couple 3 year olds snatched balls & toys from his hands, saying things like: "It's time to clean those up now! -give those to me! -no! -You can't play with those!" At one point X surrendered his toy willingly (obviously wondering: WTF?!), & one child said cruelly: "Ooooh, you finally did something RIGHT for a change!" (where on earth did she pick up an awful phrase like that?). It was distressing to witness such senseless viciousness, especially from small & seemingly innocent people. And it was even harder to watch my own, perfect son who is so seldom spoken to in anything but honeyed tones endure such mean treatment.
He did not seem particularly worse for it at the moment, although his confused expression was enough to make me want to break down. But later that afternoon at OMSI he was aggressive & angry, throwing prism pieces & scratching at my face & saying "No!" with more force than necessary. While I can't be certain the two things correlate, the coincidence strikes me as more than suspicious. It was like he learned right then & there how to be a little bit meaner & nastier, much as he so quickly learns the words for things or that the pedals spin the wheels on the bike. He is a little sponge, sopping up the sweet & the dirty alike. I wish I could protect him from the angry, irritated words of strangers, but I realize this was just among the first of many horrid lessons in how to be mean.
We were at the La Leche League meeting & for the first time since I began attending 18 months ago X decided he wanted to play in the toy room with the older children. It was odd to watch him toddle off while the other mothers cuddled their babies or watched them crawl close on the floor beside their feet. My kid didn't need me quite that much anymore. I poked my head in the other room from time to time, just to make sure he wasn't swallowing a choking hazard or beaning himself on the head with something or another. But he was fine. He's almost beyond all that by now. He quickly found a train table & busied himself with rooting through a bin full of tracks and train cars. So I left him there & joined the adults on the other side of the passageway.
After a while he ambled back in & stood beside me for a bit. Another bigger girl around 6 years old (yes, she's still nursing -this is LLL, after all) followed after & bellowed out aggressively: "Whoever is this kid's mom better keep him in here 'cause he's BUGGIN' me & my friends!!" I stared at X, shocked, carefully watchful, waiting for him to react. He stared at her, his forehead etched in a deep wrinkle. I ignored her almost entirely, but her mother didn't & the girl was escorted out for a brief chat with her mom.
But that set the tone for the other kids who, in predictable Lord of the Flies fashion, decided to gang up. I watched for the remaining hour as that same 6-year old & a couple 3 year olds snatched balls & toys from his hands, saying things like: "It's time to clean those up now! -give those to me! -no! -You can't play with those!" At one point X surrendered his toy willingly (obviously wondering: WTF?!), & one child said cruelly: "Ooooh, you finally did something RIGHT for a change!" (where on earth did she pick up an awful phrase like that?). It was distressing to witness such senseless viciousness, especially from small & seemingly innocent people. And it was even harder to watch my own, perfect son who is so seldom spoken to in anything but honeyed tones endure such mean treatment.
He did not seem particularly worse for it at the moment, although his confused expression was enough to make me want to break down. But later that afternoon at OMSI he was aggressive & angry, throwing prism pieces & scratching at my face & saying "No!" with more force than necessary. While I can't be certain the two things correlate, the coincidence strikes me as more than suspicious. It was like he learned right then & there how to be a little bit meaner & nastier, much as he so quickly learns the words for things or that the pedals spin the wheels on the bike. He is a little sponge, sopping up the sweet & the dirty alike. I wish I could protect him from the angry, irritated words of strangers, but I realize this was just among the first of many horrid lessons in how to be mean.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
pronoun confusion
I am "me" to X, and especially when he's feeling cuddly. "Me!", he says, as he crawls over my body & snuggles down on my chest as we're lying in bed. "Guggle mama, guggle me!," he says, asking me in his own mangled way to give him a good, cozy snuggle. "Meeee!," he whines when he wants me to pick him up & hold him in my arms. I think that I will be a little sad when he finally figures out that I am not me, but rather you & that he is really me. I like being me to him.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
1st day of school
Okay, so I am jumping the gun a little bit with that title, but that's how mournful I felt today when I dropped my precious charge off at A's house, gave him that last fleeting kiss & watched him toddle off to the snack table through the crack in the closing door. And miracle of miracles: he did not cry a bit. Not one tear. He seemed glad enough to see me when I returned for him 2 hours later (yes, 2.5 hours 2 days/week is all I have arranged -got to start somewhere, right?), but per A he did not seem to mind one bit that I was gone.
I was so incredibly relieved & was tempted to chock it up to how amazingly secure he is owing to the AP style we've followed nearly to a tee. A was careful to remind me that many children who fare well during their first days find it harder as the weeks go on. This week he doesn't realize what is happening, but next week he will be totally on to my scheme & may get more anxious when it comes time for me to depart. I hope she's wrong, but I am not going to count on it. It seems too good to be true.
I was so incredibly relieved & was tempted to chock it up to how amazingly secure he is owing to the AP style we've followed nearly to a tee. A was careful to remind me that many children who fare well during their first days find it harder as the weeks go on. This week he doesn't realize what is happening, but next week he will be totally on to my scheme & may get more anxious when it comes time for me to depart. I hope she's wrong, but I am not going to count on it. It seems too good to be true.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
spectacle
Friday, August 6, 2010
nursing at 17 months
Did I think I'd be nursing this long? -The short answer is yes, but I don't think I really thought it through completely. I always had a vague preference for "child-led weaning," but I think I was under the (mis)impression that children quite naturally stepped off from nursing gradually. For example, newborn infants nurse every 2 hours (or more), at a year maybe they are nursing every 5 hours, & at 17 months every 7 hours, etc. Nothing systematic, but I guess I thought he would gradually want to nurse less & less of his own accord.
But nothing could be further from the truth. Oh, I am sure there are kids that "self-wean" by a year, but I am certain they are rare in the very purest sense. The mother must be participating in some regard, be it by ceasing to offer or by refusing at certain times (in public, at night, etc.). Because X is most certainly not interested in weaning & would nurse every couple hours like a newborn baby if I let him. And I do, for the most part. I have made no real efforts to restrict his access.
But there are times of late when I am willing to nip the endless night-time comfort nursing in the bud. The amazing thing is that he seems to get it. For example, he will nurse to sleep for 15 minutes on one side, 15 minutes on the other & then at the end of my patience I will pop him off & say, "no more milkie, X -milkie is all gone." And he will repeat, "wowie all gone" several times, as if he's processing that information. He doesn't wail & beg for "mo wowie," but instead settles down to the sometimes endless process of settling himself (usually involves lots of tossing, turning and wall-kicking). Meanwhile, I lay there & while I am not doing my own thing I am at least not subjecting my nipples to the torment of endless friction.
And it really isn't all bad, this toddler nursing thing (nonstop comfort nursing, aside). I am grateful daily for the close connection it affords us. He is all over the place these days, investigating, exploring, talking, walking forwards & backwards & upside down. If it weren't for these cuddly, intimate moments I am not sure I would get much attention from him, aside from him asking me to draw him a car or read him a book or pick him up so he can reach the switch to turn on & off the ceiling fan. My heart melts when, in the middle of a hug or after a good long tickle, he pokes his little index finger at my collar bone & says: "wowie, mama." And while I really don't want to be one of these La Leche mamas who is tandem nursing 3 & 5 year olds, I admit I will miss him when he is gone....
But nothing could be further from the truth. Oh, I am sure there are kids that "self-wean" by a year, but I am certain they are rare in the very purest sense. The mother must be participating in some regard, be it by ceasing to offer or by refusing at certain times (in public, at night, etc.). Because X is most certainly not interested in weaning & would nurse every couple hours like a newborn baby if I let him. And I do, for the most part. I have made no real efforts to restrict his access.
But there are times of late when I am willing to nip the endless night-time comfort nursing in the bud. The amazing thing is that he seems to get it. For example, he will nurse to sleep for 15 minutes on one side, 15 minutes on the other & then at the end of my patience I will pop him off & say, "no more milkie, X -milkie is all gone." And he will repeat, "wowie all gone" several times, as if he's processing that information. He doesn't wail & beg for "mo wowie," but instead settles down to the sometimes endless process of settling himself (usually involves lots of tossing, turning and wall-kicking). Meanwhile, I lay there & while I am not doing my own thing I am at least not subjecting my nipples to the torment of endless friction.
And it really isn't all bad, this toddler nursing thing (nonstop comfort nursing, aside). I am grateful daily for the close connection it affords us. He is all over the place these days, investigating, exploring, talking, walking forwards & backwards & upside down. If it weren't for these cuddly, intimate moments I am not sure I would get much attention from him, aside from him asking me to draw him a car or read him a book or pick him up so he can reach the switch to turn on & off the ceiling fan. My heart melts when, in the middle of a hug or after a good long tickle, he pokes his little index finger at my collar bone & says: "wowie, mama." And while I really don't want to be one of these La Leche mamas who is tandem nursing 3 & 5 year olds, I admit I will miss him when he is gone....
vantasy
The neighbors scored a sweet van & parked it in their yard (it is Felony Flats, after all!). X could not resist a gander (& nor could we resist the opportunity to dress him in this fly, old school golf outfit courtesy of M's mother & take a few fun shots).
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
book fiend
"Bookk! Bookkk!" is a common refrain around here these days. Unable to master a simple K or CH sound, X tends to turn both into a harsh, throaty, gutteral, German sounding thing, as in the phrase, "Ich auch" meaning "me too." It's adorable. Especially when he throws it on the end of "couch" and "ouch." In any case, he chants "bookkk!" all day long, slapping his hands together & shut in a display of the old sign that I must have taught him ages ago & by some miracle he still remembers (signs are used when he most emphatically wants something -signs for "more" and "all done" getting as much play as "book"). Lately, he tags his own version of the book's name on to all requests. "No night Moom!, he says, clutching Goodnight Moon & following me around the kitchen. "Goggy!" he shouts, as he begs for me to read him a little Gossie (a small yellow gosling who likes to wear red boots. Every day.) "Yuyee, Yuckee!" he says, & we sit down for a quick review of those things he should never try to eat ("Blueberries are yummy, blue crayons are yucky!").
Many mornings find him nestled quietly on his futon as in the photo above while I get his breakfast together. He sits there quietly for longer than I could have imagined possible, a pile of books stacked beside him as he picks up each in turn, flipping through the pages slowly, pointing at & naming the things that he knows. And he knows so terribly much. "Newspapah!" he says, as he points to a picture in one of those handy "Word" books for toddlers. How on earth does he know what a newspaper is? -They are practically extinct?! It boggles the mind...
Many mornings find him nestled quietly on his futon as in the photo above while I get his breakfast together. He sits there quietly for longer than I could have imagined possible, a pile of books stacked beside him as he picks up each in turn, flipping through the pages slowly, pointing at & naming the things that he knows. And he knows so terribly much. "Newspapah!" he says, as he points to a picture in one of those handy "Word" books for toddlers. How on earth does he know what a newspaper is? -They are practically extinct?! It boggles the mind...
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