4 Months and 2.75 Years
Swiss Miss is trying her damnedest to turn over. I am so not ready for that. She is one of the sweetest babies I've met though. Of course, I'm biased but she's so laid back. She doesn't like to be left out the conversation and will voice her frustration if the rest of the family is at the dinner table and she's stuck over in her swing. But otherwise, not much seems to bother her. Her cheeks are ridiculous. I feast on them daily. She's started laughing and it's at that awkward phase where it sounds like she's trying to clear her throat. Adorable. Her hands are constantly in her mouth and I think she's on the verge of teething. Something else I'm not ready for.
She is constantly, constantly fascinated by her brother.
Rolo, on the other hand, is a whirling dervish. Like most kids his age, he's a little bit like a person with untreated bipolar disease. Charming one moment and a maniac the next. But there's lots more good than bad. He's a whiz at counting. The number 14 trips him up for some reason. He tells me things like, "I have two toys and if I take one, then I only got one", which is his version of math.
The other night I was telling him that I needed to make him an appointment with the dentist and our conversation went like this:
R:NOOOOOOOO! NO dentist!
Me: What? The dentist is fine. The dentist is fun.
R: No, no dentist.
Me: How come you don't like the dentist? You've never been to a dentist.
R: I don't want a shot!
Me: Oh. The dentist doesn't give you a shot, bug. No shots.
(I realize it's conceivable that he could get a novacaine shot, but I'm keeping it simple here)R: Oh. So what he do, then?
Me: He brushes your teeth and looks in your mouth.
I love that Rolo is at an age where he can rationalize somewhat and can ask appropriate questions. His sentence structure still needs some work, but I love that he asks things like "What he do then?".
He lacks patience and he watches too much TV. He probably gets his way too often. But he's smart and funny and very caring.
Two kids is good. I like having two.
Labels: conversations, parenting, Rolo, Swiss Miss
Simple
Today was A Day. For no particular reason, I felt anxious. I had too, too much to do. I had too, too little time. I was short on patience with the kids. I felt claustrophobic. We had plans to visit with Ron's friends this afternoon. In the end, I sent Rolo with him, while the baby and I stayed home. I needed to get things done. Trivial things: returning clothes for the kids, buying other warm weather clothes that they need, paying bills, vacuuming. But needed to be done, they were. I knew that would make me feel better.
Rolo woke up from his nap in A Mood. Did not particularly want to go with Daddy to see his friends. I felt a little bad about making him go, because all the other kids were much older than him. After they left, I worried that Rolo would feel left out trying to keep up with the older kids or, worse, that the older kids wouldn't want to play with him.
Later, I called Ron, who told me that Rolo was playing wiffle ball. He must have realized it was me on the phone because 30 seconds later, I heard him ask Ron to talk to me.
"Hi, Mommy!"
"Hi, bud. Are you playing baseball?"
"Yes!"
"Are you having fun?"
"Yes! I'm playing with my friends!"
Oh bud. I hope it's always so easy for you to make new friends.
Labels: parenting, Rolo, winter of my discontent
2.5
Last month,
Rolo turned two and a half.
I'll start with the bad. Although, to be fair, just weeks before turning two and a half, we introduced a tiny screaming baby into his world, so it's hard to tell whether the "bad" is because of that or is just a function of being two and a half. Up until recently, we totally lucked out in the tantrum department. Sure, he talks back, says "no" a lot and requires constant negotiation. But he didn't really engage in full-blown screaming fits. But since two and a half happened, there have been a handful. Still, not too many, so we're still pretty lucky. One time though, he screamed so much, he actually popped capillaries in his face and had red dots around his temples for 3 days. Not fun. Also, a sudden and and intense refusal to go to bed. Fortunately, this has dissipated, but for about 4 weeks, the child would break down at bedtime. This one, I'm racking up to some sort of reaction to having a new baby in the house. He's also very clingy with me. Not when I expected, which was was I was holding the new baby. Instead he'd freak out if I left the room. Or God forbid needed to actually leave the apartment without him. Suddenly he was the kid clinging to his mom's leg every morning at day care drop-off. Again, this has sort of stopped, so this may be another reaction-to-the-new-baby thing. Lastly, he staunchly refuses to have anything to do with a potty.
But the good? Is very good. He talks about manatees. And African safaris. He "reads" books. He wants to count everything. He can spell his name. He can pick out about 75% of the alphabet letters correctly. He mimics my tone of voice and it's hysterical. He uses slang phrases correctly. He tells stories that make me laugh. He does tricks. He tells jokes. He likes to color and paint.
Most important of all is how much he loves his sister. I honestly expected him to be jealous. I expected him to act out against her. None of that materialized. We brought home a new little person who reduced the attention he received from us in half and he couldn't love her more. He always wants to know where she is. He lights up when he sees her. He gives her kisses. He yells "Don't worry, I coming to get you!" while running upstairs (with me) to get her out of her crib in he mornings. He tells her "Don't cry, I right here" when she's sad. He reads her books. He shows her toys. All without me prompting him to do so. Yes, he can be a little rough sometimes, but he's two.
I couldn't be more proud. Honestly, some days I feel like my heart will break open with pride. He's a good kid. He's a really, really good kid.
Labels: parenting, Rolo
10 weeks
So my little Swiss Miss is already 10 weeks old and I haven't really posted a thing about her.
Let's see. About her:
She was born with a ton of hair. It continues to grow at an alarming rate.
She does not like to be disturbed while resting.
She is neater than her brother: she doesn't spit up and her poop stays in her diaper. That said, she burps and farts like a drunken frat boy.
She took to nursing immediately. As in, she was born, literally, making a sucking motion. She just recently found her thumb and is in complete heaven.
Her eyes, for now, are blue.
Her skin, unfortunately, is very dry and she has eczema and cradle cap something fierce.
It seems that she may have food allergies as well as reflux.
She doesn't really mind tummy time.
She loves to smile.
She loves to coo.
*******
Let's see. About me:
Having two kids is logistically as much of a pain in the ass as I thought it would be. That said, it's not as hard in other ways I thought it would be.
I'm on a restricted diet as a result of the aforementioned food allergies. No milk, eggs or soy ingredients for me. As an aside, I'd like to point out that with Rolo I pumped exclusively for over six months and now with this one, I've given up eating most foods that are delicious. I deserve some sort of mothering award, no?
I enjoy walking around the city with Swiss Miss.
I have no desire to return to work. This confuses me.
Having the benefit of experience, it seems having a newborn this time is infinitely easier. Not nearly as much frustration or depression. I attribute this to both the experience factor and that I had simply less to lose this time.
I love nursing her.
In the afternoons, she and I take naps on my bed. We look at each other as we drift off to sleep. It is my favorite time of day and I am very sad it will come to an end.
I am completely in love.
Labels: baby, parenting, Rolo, Swiss Miss
After Birth
I promise I will soon post my labor story and more tidbits about my daughter, who is lovely. But today I want to talk about what happened after her delivery.
After I had
Rolo, I had a retained placenta. The OB had to go in and retrieve it, which took some time, but he was able to do it in the delivery room without surgical intervention. I had an epidural at the time and while I felt some pressure and mild discomfort while it was being removed, it was, in the grand scheme of things, no big deal.
For the record, one's placenta is pretty much supposed to deliver itself after the baby without much hoopla.
So...with my little girl, my labor was so fast that I had a natural delivery and my mind was so blown away by this development that a retained placenta was the last thing on my mind. Until, that is, my baby girl was being doted on by my husband in the delivery room and I noticed the OB team was becoming increasingly frantic about this placenta situation. "Oh yeah," I said, "This happened last time too."
The striking difference this time, of course, was the complete absence of pain medication. So for an hour I had to endure the
OB's (a female, thankfully) with her entire forearm up my
whoo-ha pulling the placenta out in pieces. Sorry, hope you weren't eating lunch. It was completely horrifying, hands down the worst pain in my life and way worse than the delivery itself.
But finally, it was over, recovery was pretty easy and I was back to my normal
actitivies in no time. I slipped into a routine and being the mother of two instead of one was not the awful transition I anticipated.
Then, 12 days after my daughter was born, I started to bleed. A lot. More than one should safely bleed. I was home by myself with the two kids and more than a little panicky. I started to cry, alternating thoughts between "This is no big deal, panicking will not help" and "What will happen if the bleeding doesn't stop and I pass out? Who can watch the kids?" I was not so concerned for myself as I was for them. My husband rushed home and my in-laws rushed over to watch the kids. Ron and I headed to the ER, where I was convinced they'd just send me home.
But no. A pelvic exam (and trust me, I was none too pleased to see stirrups again so soon) revealed a concerning level of bleeding and an ultrasound confirmed "retained product" in my uterus. Basically, there was likely still placenta in there. Or...it could be a fibroid, an absorbed twin or a tumor. But likely it was retained placenta.
So, I was admitted to the hospital for a
D&C scheduled for sometime the next day. The doctor explained the risks, since I was less than 2 weeks post
partum: it was possible that they wouldn't be able to control the bleeding because my uterus was so soft. And they weren't exactly sure what they'd find once they were in there. It was possible that I'd need
interventional radiologist to go up though arteries. It was possible that I'd need a hysterectomy. Which displeased me because, even though I don't plan on having any more children, I am rather attached to all my lady bits.
The next day dragged on...I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything, which made me pretty grumpy. I kept fantasizing about foods like chicken
parm and chocolate milkshakes. My husband, who is wonderful, would later bring me both.
I was finally on the schedule for the procedure mid-afternoon. More with the talking to me about risks, and about general anesthesia. Guess what? Turns out I have a total fear of "going under". I never knew this about myself. I did not, DID NOT, want to be
intubated. A nurse, "my" nurse as it turned out, came over, introduced herself and what I can only imagine was her recognizing the terror on my face, said kindly "I'm going to take really good care of you." Ron stayed with me until the last minute and tried to distract me by talking to me about all the food I could finally eat afterwards.
I was wheeled away, trying not to cry again (I knew that a D&C was no big deal in the grand scheme of things, but bear in mind, post-
partum hormones here. Greeting card
commercials could make me cry). The route to the O.R. looked like the back room of a cafeteria to me, with lots of shelves and trays but minus any food. As they laid me back, I looked up at a very large light above me and thought, "That looks just like a light they would have in an O.R. on TV." The last thing I remember is someone cursing that I had two, TWO, hospital gowns on and then a mask going over my face. And then...nothing.
Later, I woke up with a nurse beside me. The OB came over immediately and started explaining to me what had happened. Something about losing a lot of blood..and I knew I wasn't really comprehending everything she was saying. She said she already spoke with Ron and I stupidly said, "He's a doctor, you can tell him the whole story and he'll understand." The OB look slightly horrified that she had probably dumbed down the story for a fellow
physician and rushed off to find him.
The rest of the night was a blur. What I thought was the anesthesia making me weak and out-of-it was really anemia. Pink dots kept on appearing everywhere but I had the presence of mind to tell Ron, who stayed with me all night, when I felt like I was on the verge of passing out. The medical residents decided I needed a catheter and I was too tired to protest. You know what? Getting a catheter without having any paid
meds? Yeah, undesirable. Turns out that I can grit through real pain, but I'm a total wimp as it relates to general discomfort. Between the catheter and an abandoned IV on the inside of my elbow that they wanted to leave in "just in case" they needed it, I was cursing like a sailor.
Ron checked my pressure regularly and was generally displeased with the level of care I was receiving. The next day, when I couldn't stand up without falling down, a different OB, the one who delivered
Rolo and who I like a lot, came in to talk to me about a blood transfusion. So...a blood transfusion it was. Which, since I've often donated blood, I thought was an interesting "circle of life" type moment.
All in all, I wound up being in the hospital about 3 and a half days, which is actually longer than when I had the baby to begin with. I was shocked by how awful I felt. I missed my kids terribly. I wasn't worried about the baby, because I knew she didn't know if I was home or not, but I was worried about
Rolo. He had a hard time when I went into the hospital to have the baby and now I was away again. When I finally saw him, he ran into my arms and gave me the biggest hug ever.
And I cried.
Labels: life, parenting, winter of my discontent
A Time to Be Born, A Time to Die
Ron's friend, the one with cancer, passed away this weekend. Even though it was expected, I was surprised how quickly it happened, and when Ron told me, it sort of knocked the wind out of me.
We had a baby girl nine days ago. Pregnancy and post-pregnancy hormones can make one overly emotional, but I can't stop thinking about Ron's friend's family, his widow and his little boy. I can't imagine doing what I do every day on my own and I'm so ever thankful for the health of those I love.
Labels: Living, parenting, preggo
Genius
I know every parent is slightly biased about their own kid. It's impressive to see your baby, who used to be able to do NOTHING, really take an active interest in learning. And learning more than just about how to eat and walk and other basic necessities. I'm talking about school-type learning.
Rolo can spell his name. He occasionally gets the "a" (in his real name) confused with "b". But he gets the whole thing right most of the time. He can also correctly pick out the following letters: a, b, c, d, j, k, l, m, n, o, and w. Sometimes z. He had letters that float in the tub that have helped him with this, as well as that toddler computer I mentioned that he's been doing letter with. He still makes mistakes, even with the letters he "knows" but he gets them right more often than not--enough that I really think he knows them.
He can also count to 20--and by that I mean he recites numbers 1 through 20. In addition, he can also count off how many objects he has or is looking at, but only up to about 10. It took him awhile to get the hang of counting objects and he'll sometimes still count the same thing twice, but in the last week he's really gotten the hang of it.
Also? He's been telling me, with varying levels of success, his left from his right. He'll hold something in his right hand and say "This the right one", then switch hands and say "This the left one". Again, he sometimes gets it wrong, but he often gets it right--especially when he does it on his own, not with me prompting him to perform.
Clearly, he's a genius.
ETA: And I forgot to mention shapes! He knows circle, square and triangle. Same as with everything else--he doesn't have 100% accuracy but he gets them right more often than not. And as seems to be the case with all his learning, he's more accurate when he just picks out a shape on his own. Sometimes he'll say "Look, Mommy, a circle!" or I'll overhear him naming the shapes in a book. But if I start asking him what shape is what out of the blue, it's more likely he'll give me a wrong answer. Which, maybe is because he's unsure, or may be his deliberate way of telling me to stop treating him like a circus pony. Probably the latter.
Labels: parenting, Rolo
Made It
One of my fears was going into labor right before Christmas. Because I didn't want to be stuck in the hospital and miss the little dude opening all his gifts. Now that Christmas is over, I suppose anytime is good enough to go into labor, but I'd still prefer to go around my due date, January 12th.
Rolo didn't really start talking about the baby until the last few days. I would mention it, but he never brought it up on his own. But yesterday, we talked about the "new baby" (I'm trying to get out of the habit of saying that--"new baby"--it sounds like a replacement) and then he woke up from his nap later in the day, it was ALL he could talk about. He must have dreamed about the baby because I was getting some story about how the baby gave him a blue animal blanket.
Speaking of which, I have a decide on a present to give Rolo from the baby. Originally, it was going to be
this. It's something I still want to get him eventually, but looking around my post-Christmas apartment, I honestly don't know where we'd put it. One of the Christmas presents Ron was most excited to give Rolo was a basketball hoop, which is amazingly large. Like, the box was deceivingly small. Pieces kept on coming out and by the time it was assembled, it took over half the apartment. That combined with a
railroad track, an art easel and
new desk, and I don't think a mini piano is in the cards right now.
So what to get....
Rolo, however, has a very firm idea about what HE wants to get the baby. He's really into giraffes right now, and saw a "
Sophie the Giraffe" on a parenting magazine cover and was all about it. I explained that particular giraffe was a baby toy and then, on a whim, mentioned that we could go to the store one day and he could buy that for the baby. WELL. Since then, every time we go to a store, even the grocery store, he's been about finding the giraffe. Which I haven't found only because I haven't looked very hard. I'd love to think it's super-sweet that Rolo wants so desperately to find this toy for his little brother or sister, but in reality, I think he's using the baby as a cover to buy something HE wants. He ain't no fool.
Rolo, by the way, LOVED Christmas--what kid doesn't? And it's amazing what a bunch of new toys will do to distract one from the TV. Which is wonderful. So we've spent many hours cooking things up in his new tabletop kitchen, working on the alphabet on his new (toddler) computer), drawing Christmas trees on his easel and of course, playing basketball and trains. It's a wonderful time of year.
Labels: parenting, preggo, Rolo
Christmas
I can tell you this about this Christmas season: I've realized that nothing may be quite so fun as your kid "getting" Christmas for the first time. Rolo is basking in the glory of all that is holiday-related. His awe and enthusiasm is contagious. Just a couple of months ago, when I spoke of Christmas, he looked at me like I had 3 heads. But now that he sees it--the decorations, nativities--Santa, he gets it.
When he and Ron went to pick out a tree a couple of weeks ago, you would have thought we had won the lottery. There was a Christmas tree. IN HIS HOUSE. To a two year old, that's as good as it gets. Several days later, I put a wreath on the front door in the middle of the afternoon. I had forgotten I had done it until I brought Rolo home from daycare and he about jumped out of his stroller, yelling "LOOK! Mommy, Christmas on our door!"
His head is totally going to explode Christmas morning.
It's charming. I love Christmas time. But, as cliche as this sounds, seeing it through the eyes of a child getting it for the first time is...amazing. People complain about the "terrible two's" and, certainly, two year olds have their moments when you want to chuck them out the window. But honestly, they are so fascinated by everything around them, so open to learning about new things, that two might be my favorite age yet.
Labels: Living, parenting, Rolo
About Last Night
Rolo was impossible to put to bed last night. In the crib, 45 minutes of screaming, out of the crib. Calm, back in the crib, more screaming, out of the crib. Unusual for him. Nothing seemed to be bothering him, although with Rolo it's hard to tell. He's so laid back about things bothering him. His only explanation was "I not ready yet." Okay.
10 p.m., a full 2 hours past his usual bedtime he finally passes out on the couch. His father carries him to his room. Total dead weight. We head to bed too.
2 a.m., our baby monitor is on the fritz and the sound has cut out entirely, but I awaken anyway to the distant sound of Rolo screaming in his room below ours. I look at the video monitor, without sound, and see him rocking and boy, is he really screaming. Not calling for me, like might normally happen. Completely hysterical and I worry something's actually wrong. Ron wakes up too. I look at the clock. "This is going to be a disaster" I say. Ron tells me to bring him to bed with us. He says this because he's tired and he knows I'm tired and it will appease Rolo. I frown, because, that's not a trend I'm willing to start.
I go to Rolo's room and he calms down immediately. He does not know why he woke up. He asks for his diaper to be changed, which he usually never does, and I worry he thinks it's time to wake up for the day. While changing him, I ask if he wants a drink of milk. He does. And a bagel too. But he seems to have an awareness that it's the middle of the night and that he'll have to go back to bed. So I go along with this little game, bring him milk and a mini-bagel, and let him sit on the couch in the living room, with only a nightlight on. He does not suggest turning on the TV, or reading a book, or playing with toys, or any other thing to stall for time. Instead he slowly drinks his milk and eats his bagel.
After he's done, he cuddles up against me. He takes my face in his hands, looking at me, and then puts his cheek against mine. He stays that way for several minutes while I rub his back. "I cuddle with Mommy," he says.
I could be annoyed that I'm awake at 2 o'clock in the morning, when I'm hugely pregnant and not sleeping so well to begin with. I could be annoyed that my son, who does not seem to be sick, or getting molars, or having any other type of issue, is awake. But Rolo is so calm, so cuddly and being so reasonable, I'm not annoyed at all. Somehow I sense, as only a mother can, that what he needed was just to be still and be held. So we both sit, on the couch in the dark, with me stroking his hair and he patting my leg. He gives me a hug. "I ready now," he says and back to his crib he goes without protest. When I get back upstairs, it's after 3 a.m., and Ron asks "What was his problem?"
No problem at all. These middle-of-the-night wake ups are rare. And in time, he won't need me like he does now. 'Tis an amazing thing to be all that another person needs.
Labels: parenting, Rolo
The Light of My Life
Everyone knows I love my kid. It's easy to complain though. The constant negotiations. The lack of time. The lack of privacy. The onslaught of requests. The tantrums. Having a two year old is
so hard, right? Like millions of women for thousands of years haven't been doing it.
I read a lot of blogs. A lot of them are written by women who have lost children. Sometimes at birth, sometimes months or years afterwards. Sometimes because of terrible illnesses no one should have to endure. I read this blogs because, even though I've witnessed it, I can't fathom how these women endure it.
I read these blogs to remind myself of how selfish I am sometimes and to keep things in perspective. I may complain, but I love Rolo beyond all measure. I know I am incredibly, incredibly blessed. I hope I always remember that.
Labels: parenting, Rolo
Potty
I've had a feeling for awhile that potty training might be my demise. One, because I have no idea what I'm doing as it relates to potty training. Two, I think I might secretly prefer changing diapers to the inevitable flux period where accidents occur and immediate access to rest rooms are necessary. Three, Rolo is scared of his own poo, something I think I've mentioned. Four, he potty his has is the trainer kind that sits on the floor (he, up until this weekend, seemed afraid of sitting up on regular potty) and, you know what's not so nice about those ones? After your kid goes, you've got to empty and clean them. Have I mentioned my kid's poop is not solid? So, I do not anticipate this going well at all.
Regardless, he has several "potty" books that we read regularly, trying to get him used to the idea that everyone poops. Awhile back, we took him to pick out his own potty. He has, on rare occasions, sat on it, but never with any success (although I make sure to commend him for sitting on it anyway). I never force the issue.
Over the last two weeks, he's pooped in the tub 3 times. I have no idea why. The last time he did, Ron was bathing him and Ron got the impression that Rolo knew he was going to poop before he did. So we both told him it was okay and that soon he'd be going in the potty. We bathe him in our upstairs bathroom, where we do not have "his" potty. That bathroom is pretty small, so I suggested to Rolo that we go pick out a potty seat to go on Mama and Daddy's potty so he could use either bathroom. Surprisingly, Rolo seemed pretty excited about the prospect of picking out a new potty seat. We looked at a few versions online and Rolo woke up the next morning asking "Poo-poo? We go pick out potty?"
So we headed to Babies R Us and Rolo picked out the
Elmo potty cover. I knew the splash guard was too low for a boy, but I am willing to deal with that for now if Elmo gets him to use the potty.
Anyway, he was ridiculously excited to bring it to the upstairs bathroom and wanted to use it immediately. I figured, hell why not? And don't you know, he sat on that potty for almost a half an hour? Now, in case you're not aware of this, a half an hour is FOREVER in toddler time. To boot, he pooped. Right there in the potty. Was totally aware of what he was doing, saying "Oh! I go poo poo!" Wasn't freaked out at all. In fact afterwards he waved his hands in the air excitedly and said "I did it!" We did a happy dance and went out to dinner to celebrate where Rolo was allowed to have a dinner that consisted mostly of french fries (and was he ever happy about that since he and french fries rarely cross paths).
Interestingly, he doesn't necessarily like to talk about his first potty success. He didn't want to tell Ron himself. But if you say, "Did you use the potty like a big boy?", he gets the biggest smile and tells you yes. He's obviously proud, but he's still shy about talking about it. The next morning when he woke up he said, "I sit on potty?" So, for another 20 minutes we sat on the potty. He didn't go again, but I'm impressed that he sat there for that long.
So, the long and short of it is Rolo is still in diapers, but had one successful trip to the potty. It may have been a fluke but at least he's getting the idea and showing interest. Doesn't hurt that he's starting in a new classroom at school today and they're going to really emphasis using the potty (sticker charts and all that). So, we'll see. This is a start.
Also, in case you don't know me in real life or on Facebook, I'm knocked up again and due in January. That's a story for another day. But because of that, I've resigned myself to the fact I've either got to get Rolo potty trained early this fall or wait until well after the new baby is born.
Labels: parenting, Rolo
On Being Present
You can't multi-task motherhood. That's one of the things I'm learning. I mean, I joke around that daycare is outsourced parenting (and frankly, that's really only half-joking, as my kid spends more time with his teachers than he ever has with me since my maternity leave ended). But daycare allows you this false sense of what it is to spend time with your child. Being at home with them isn't enough. When you're home with them, there's still dinner to make, laundry to do, bills to pay, and sometimes, as I sheepishly admit, TV you want to watch.
All that's fine when you have an infant. Wear him in a sling while you do laundry. Cuddle him on your lap while you watch TV. Coo at him in his swing from the kitchen while you make dinner. Then toddlerdom hits and it's game over.
So I'm trying to be present in the moment now. Sure, there are still chores to do, but I'm trying to save the ones that can wait until after Rolo has gone to bed, even if that means a later bedtime for myself. Because kids know. Sometimes we'll be reading a book for the 11th time and my eyes will drift over to the television, or a magazine and I answer "Uh-huh" to his questions one too many times. And Rolo will put his hands on either side of my face, look me square in the eyes and say quietly "Mama. Mama." His meaning is clear:
I can tell you're not really here, Mama, and I need you to be here.I remind myself constantly of what has become my mantra:
he'll never be this little again, or need you this much. And that will always be true. When he's a teenager and barely acknowledging my existence I know I'll look back on these times I tried to watch an episode of
House Hunters while playing with him and wonder why I was such a fool.
Labels: On, parenting, Rolo
Missing The Person You Fell In Love With
I saw this
article on CNN and I knew before reading it what it was about. That made me a little sad. But this story, or some similiar verison of it, is what happens when you have children. I have a good marriage, and in many ways I am closer to my husband now than I was two years ago. There's much good, but I'd be lying if I told you something didn't catch in the back of my throat a little bit when I've looked at him and thought "He must miss the person he married."
Labels: baby, Living, parenting, random
Nuh and New
So
Rolo is becoming quite the little talker and like most kids his age, "no" is his favorite word. And like his father, he's developing some
bizarro accent for no apparent reason. When he's being dismissive,
Rolo pronounces "no" as "
nuh" and sounds much like a Russian fisherman. When he's being whiny, "no" becomes "
neeeeewwww" and he sounds like I've just asked him to give up one of his kidneys.
Last night, after he dumped his dinner on the floor (ahem), I shook my finger at him and said sternly "That's not nice! You don't throw food on the floor. We don't waste food!"
Rolo proceeded to think for a minute (at this age, you can practically see the wheels in their head turning) and instead of doing his incredibly fake crying that he does when I correct him, he lifted one finger at me, looked me in the eye and said "
Dat. Nah. Nice." Which, translated, just in case you can't follow along, was him repeating "That's not nice" back to me. I had to turn my back to him so he couldn't see me laugh.
That story sort of sums up where we are with
Rolo these days. He's started forming small sentences and given that he wasn't really saying more than a handful of words two months ago, I'd call it significant progress. One of his favorite sentences is "he's crying" complete with him pretending to wipe his eye. Interestingly, he never uses this sentence referring to himself, but he comments on other people he sees crying in real life or on TV. Just in the last week,
Rolo's taken to making up stories. The other night in the tub, his
fireboat bath toy capsized and
Rolo proceeded to tell me that the ejected firefighter was crying as a result. Yesterday, a passing helicopter was crying as it flew away. I could go on.
Speaking of helicopters,
Rolo is completely OBSESSED with them. He can say "
hellacopper", and is constantly searching the sky for them (thank God our apartment has sliding glass doors with a skyline view). However, he does not understand that it is not within my power to make
hellacoppers spontaneously appear and this has lead to more than one meltdown. So I personally have a love/hate relationship with
hellacoppers.
As part of this story-telling phase,
Rolo will also speak to you
earnestly at length, mostly in complete gibberish, but with a word or two in passable English thrown in for good measure. There are usually hand gestures involved. And if you act interested, and say "Really? Is that so?"
Rolo will nod excited and say "Uh oh, he's crying."
I'm not sure if there's a direct correlation, or if it was just a timing thing, but Rolo's language exploded just after he started his new school. There are pros and cons to this new school, but overall, I'm pleased and have no desire to bring him back to his old one. Regardless whether his language skills are directly attributable to the new school, I have noticed a general change in my son. He likes being there. He gets to do a ton of activities. He's understanding more complex concepts now. Best of all, I don't feel bad about leaving him at school. In fact, I'd venture to say that he has a good deal more fun at school than at home.
I can't say there are significant challenges as he furthers into toddlerdom. Now that he's talking and knows he
can communicate, he gets even more frustrated when he can't get across what he wants. Just this morning, I was ready to sell him to a band of gypsies because EVERYTHING in Rolo's world today was just not up to his standards. Apparently. But for all the tandrums and times I'm pulling my hair out, it's still pretty fun to see how much he enjoys learning new things. We've been working on colors and he's got about a 25% percent success rate, since he always guesses either "buhue" or "ornange" first when asked what color something is. And man, when that something is actually "ornange" and I tell him he's right, you could solve the world's energy crisis with the light beaming from his face.
Labels: parenting, Rolo
Effort
"And how are
you doing?" he asked, to which I answered "fine" too quickly. I'm always suspicious when Rolo's doctors ask me how I am. As if my answer offers them a clue of some sort.
"Well, you seem better than fine. Motherhood really suits you."
I drop the tough-guy act. "Really?" I ask.
"Yeah, you're doing fine. Better than most. You make it seem effortless."
I've heard that, that I make it seem effortless, from enough people now that I'm starting to doubt it's just something polite to say. I don't know why people think this. It takes so much effort that the thought alone of ever having another one is still enough to send me into a panic attack.
I read a book recently with my girlfriends for a book club they started. "Veronika Decides to Die". And the theme that stuck in my head was the (oversimplified) idea that people can chose to "check out" of life and just be crazy. The question is who decides what's crazy, who's insane?
Similarly, who decides what is genuine and what is acted? If so many people think mothering is effortless to me, am I doing a good job of faking it? Or is my view of my own reality distorted? I love, love, love my kid, and I think I'm a good mother. But if you were to ask me my honest view on how my days are, I'd have to say that most days I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water.
I've spoken about this here before: the idea of having to be all things. Oh, I mean I know I'm not superwoman. The working and the parenting, it's a bizarre balancing act.
So the doctor asks, as a favor, if I would consider bringing Rolo in later this week to allow him to teach medical students to perform pediatric exams. It's a tough week. A budget deadline is looming and I already took this afternoon off for Rolo's actual appointment, so taking more time off to bring him in for a fake appointment is sort of pushing it. However, I do have this doctor's personal pager number. Something pediatricans don't normally just give out to parents. I have used it liberally.
"Yeah. Yeah, of course" I say.
"Are you sure it's not a problem?" he asks.
"It's not a problem. Besides, you've always been so nice to me," I say as tears start to sting my eyes.
Labels: parenting, Rolo
The Other Version of Reality
Lest you think, based on my previous post, that he poops rainbows and tiny, fuzzy kittens, living with a 1.5 year old isn't always a walk in the park. Sorry if I gave you the impression that it was. In fact, it's sort of like, I imagine, living with someone who has untreated bipolar disease, or perhaps a multiple personality disorder. Most of the time,
Rolo is quite sweet and charming. But a switch gets flipped sometimes and a little devil takes over his body.
He has his own ideas now on how things should be done and it's charming and MADDENING at the same time. Since he can't yet use words totally effectively, it means a lot of guessing. What, do you want this? How about this? Or you want to do this? No? Why are you screaming? I don't understand what you want. Okay, eating the carpet isn't helping. And the screaming still isn't helping. How about this toy? Or how about a banana?
Generally speaking,
Rolo is a good eater. He also has an amazing arm. Like, seriously, I need to make sure I start this kid in little league as soon as it's possible. Unfortunately, in the meantime, he likes to throw his food. It's not because he's no longer hungry. It's just something to do. So if you come over to my place, there's a good chance you'll wind up ducking a flying carrot or that a meatball might go whizzing past your head. Good times. You should see my carpet. It greatly resembles a Jackson Pollack masterpiece (as an aside, yes I am aware of those lovely little drop cloth thingies you can put under a high chair, but 1) they look ugly and 2) more importantly, I'd have to drop cloth the entire apartment as
Rolo is capable of launching food from his high chair well into the living room, about 20 feet away).
But the worse thing that 1.5 has brought is hitting. Me, specifically. And by that I mean
Rolo hitting me and not the other way around. Sometimes he goes after other kids too. You can read TONS of literature on toddler hitting, why they do it and what to do about it. Believe me, I've read about it. I think
Rolo hits for a couple of reasons. About 10% is probably out of frustration. But the majority is to get attention. Obviously, negative attention and specifically from me. When I pick him up from school, I watch him for a minute or two before he sees me. He's always playing with the other kids just fine. For the last week, without fail, as soon as he sees me, he either slaps one of the other kids or pulls their hair. And then he looks at me and laughs.
His teachers all swear that he's not aggressive at all throughout the day and I believe them. When we've left
Rolo with either set of grandparents for the day or overnight, they all say he's fine the whole time he's there. But when we arrive to pick him up, he'll start hitting. I'm sure there is a sociology experiment in here somewhere about how a child who is abandoned by his mother from 9-5 every day is punishing her and seeking attention any way he can find it.
In reality though, you never know when the hitting stuff is going to start. He and I could be home together all day on a Saturday, reading and playing games and all of a sudden he'll get this gleam in his eye and I know he's about to hit. I read somewhere that kids who hit for attention should be ignored and when they no longer receive the reaction, they'll stop. At the time, I was like "Are they crazy? How can you just ignore it when your kid hits you? You've got to discipline them." Honestly, though, I think
Rolo would probably stop if I ignored the behavior. The problem is that only works if we're at home. If he hits another kid, you kind of don't have much of a choice but to react, lest you look like you're breeding a monster.
So, I continue to plod through this parent/child relationship journey, working on solutions to problems I never thought
my kid would have (yes, I do believe at one point I said out loud, "well, I just wouldn't tolerate my child hitting anyone", as though my desire to tolerate or not had anything to do with it). Despite the tantrums and throwing and the hitting, he's still a pretty cool kid though and so, I guess I'll keep him.
Labels: parenting, Rolo, winter of my discontent
Updates
No, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. Here's what I've been up to:
-Thanksgiving. It was a little cozy in our apartment, but hosting Thanksgiving for 8 people turned out pretty well. Food was good, no china was broken, and I think everyone had a good time.
-Massively large projects at work. Lots of budgeting. It's amazing how budgeting can be extremely hard and yet boring at the same time.
-Parties. My husband's siblings all tend to procreate around the same time, and so two nieces and one nephew all have birthdays within 12 days of each other. Which meant several birthday parties. Plus, a "Santa" party for Ron's sister's godchildren (I think she's a godmother seven or eight times over) and all the godchildren's siblings. I don't know, it's about 20 kids. Ron plays Santa. It's pretty funny. Coming up are a slew of other work-related and friend-related Christmas parties as well.
-Testing. I mentioned before that
Rolo was supposed to get some testing done. So far, we've managed to get two X-rays and the bloodwork done. The skin tests are up next, and I'm not sure what I want to do about the sweat test. Rolo was totally spooked by the X-ray machine, even though I was able to stand next to him the whole time (and pin down his arms--fun!). As soon as I picked him up off the bed, he started saying "bye" and waving to the machine as if to say, "Yeah, time to go now!"
-Christmas shopping. We've actually managed to get to a mall once or twice. Still lots more to get.
-Operation Kill Binky. After a couple of misfires, the discontinuation of the binky has gone rather well. Rolo has gone to bed without a pacifier every night for the last week. He cries a bit when we first put him in the crib, but it's only for a few minutes. I have, however, made some exceptions and allowed him to have his binky during these X-rays and blood draws. He is, after all, only 16 months old. In addition, I've finally given him a toy,
Fred the Monkey, to sleep with--up until this point, he's never had anything else besides a pacifier in his crib with him.
Well, that's it for now. Hopefully, I'll get back to posting again soon.
Labels: i like stories, Living, parenting, Rolo
Five Days and Counting
For the last week, I've dropped Rolo off at day care and he hasn't cried. I'm sure now that I've typed that I've completely jinxed it. But for the last two months, Rolo has cried more days than not when I drop him off. Last Monday, he was so hysterical I seriously considered calling out of work and taking him back home. Only, I figure that's not a very good precedent, since I can't do it every time he's upset and also, I should save my days off for when he's sick.
So I decided that since he retains and understands what we're saying now, I would start talking to him about his teachers and other "friends" at school. That night I had a "conversation" with him, much like you would with an older child, asking him how his day was, who he played with, what songs his teachers sang. And then the next morning, as we were getting dressed, I told him all about his teachers, naming them, naming his classmates, talking about going to school. And that next day, last Tuesday began this streak where he didn't freak out when I dropped him off. Around the same time, I decided when I dropped him off I would talk him through my leaving. I tell him I've got to go to work, that I'll come back after work, he will stay here and play with his friends and then I'll come back. And I always tell him bye-bye. Versus me trying to sneak out of the room when he's not looking. I read somewhere that sneaking out can increase separation anxiety because the child may believe that mommy just "disappears" without warning.
I have no idea if any of this helped, but Rolo seems to finally have adjusted to his new classroom. And that makes the mornings so much more pleasant.
Labels: parenting, Rolo
The Reward for a Job Well Done is Having Done It
In the last 5 weeks, Ron will have been away 20 days. Ten days late last month and we're at the tail end of another 10 day stint. Conferences, classes, it'll all a good time.
We've known about both these trips since last fall and whenever I would thinkg about them over last year, it went a little something like this: OH MY GOD NO, how on earth will I handle days on end with the kid... ALONE??? Not that I don't love spending time with Rolo but most days I can barely keep my head on straight and that's WITH Ron's help. So how would I fare without it?
Just fine as it turns out. I love my husband, he's a great husband and a wonderful father. But he's not...super helpful around the house. And while he doesn't work nearly as much as the stereotypical workaholic physician, he's often left for work before Rolo wakes up and home less than an hour before Rolo goes to bed. So, to an extent, I sort of already do the single parenting thing.
There's a strange relief in these twenty days not being nearly as hard as I thought. Despite a pesky molar that's taking forever and six days to make its way though his gums, the kid is fine, the laundry is done, toys (mostly) found their way back to the toybox. I can handle this mothering thing. But I'm still pretty happy I don't have to handle it by myself. Ron's home on Sunday!
Labels: i like stories, parenting
