Gauntlet Thrown

I've mostly been writing up my daily tidbits in Facebook statuses, but watching a three year old becoming a three year old really deserves a blog post.   When else do you get to see a person actually attempt to change the laws of nature and reason to suit their preferences?  When else do you get challenged to make the impossible happen: everyday?  Toddlerhood, that's when

The other week Baba (my Father) was teasing Emily when she asked for a bagel.   He asked her what kind he wanted, round?

Emily heard brown and had a freak out that she only wanted a white bagel with white cheese.  It took a few minutes to calm her down and explain that round meant the shape of a circle.

Then, because we moved from color preferences to shapes she started to insist on a diamond shaped bagel.  Again, there was a fight of wills as I attempted to explain that bagels only come in circles.

Then Daddy can home.  Not knowing how long we'd already discussed this bagel he promptly cut the edges off and voila: diamond bagel.

Mommy is a liar and Daddy is a push over.

Of course, now that she knows this can be done Emily insists on having diamond bagels everyday.  It hasn't been that bad.  I give the edges to Sarah because they are the perfect size for a baby.  This morning, however, Emily presented a new challenge.

She wants a diamond bagel, but she doesn't want me to cut the bagel.

And go...

Post postpartum depression

Emily is now 2 1/2 and Sarah is 7 months. When Emily was 7 months I was still in the twilight zone of PPD. I could see the happy, giggly baby before me, but I couldn't respond to her.

The more Sarah grows the more aware of how different parenting is when you are "normal." Sarah is a joy. Her milestones are awesome. Having her crawl all over me is lovely. She smells good. I like playing with toys with her and I get a kick out of finding new ways to engage her.

Similarly, Emily's stories are a thrill. Yesterday she told me a long story about how her dinosaur would help her open the door and then there would be grandma and baba! I loved all 30 minutes of this story.

Probably the most pronounced difference though is changing diapers. When Emily was little she would smile and giggle while I changed her. I realize now that while I thought I was interacting with her in fact I just stood there. There was no smile, no talking, no giggling on my end. Now with Sarah there is lots of giggling and talking and teasing while I change a diaper. I can physically feel the difference in my face muscles between now and before. It is a strange feeling to feel like both women in that moment. The one who is truly part of the world and the one that was behind a glass wall.

Not only is is strange feeling, it's a scary one. I always wonder if that depression will come back. Did I escape it since I didn't get depressed after Sarah? Or is it just waiting to come out late? When Emily goes to school and its just me and one baby again? Or when they both leave and I'm left with my husband? Or maybe when they both need me the most and suddenly I'll be stuck again. Behind a wall.

Diapers

Today Emily chose pull-ups for her diapers. Does this mean she's finally ready for potty training? I dunno. However, isn't it odd that, with all these busy days and much going on, this is the biggest most exciting part of today.

Maybe it's the feminist in me

My toddler was playing with the iPad the other day and opened my Words With Friends App. The next morning I realized she had started a game with a person I play with but don't know personally (He was a random opponent like a month ago and we just keep playing).

I thought that was funny, and I now have two games started with him so I sent a message explaining: "My toddler actually started this game!"

He responded: "Wow! He must be really smart!"

Yes...SHE is.

That's the hell of equality for women. This could be a simple mistake, or just an autopilot. It could mean nothing. Or it could mean that it's far more expected for a male toddler to be smart than for a female. Which is unacceptable. Seriously, from a woman who spent her childhood hearing "She's really smart for a girl" it is really, truly, unacceptable.

On the twelfth day of Christmas

I got a five month old who not only sits up, but can play on her own. Today I watched as my tiny little baby happily sat on the floor and played with her giraffe. No help from Mama. No need for her sister to hold her up. When did she decide to grow up?

Sometimes, like yesterday, I think only the big things are worth noting. Then I have a day where my kids remind me that just watching them growing up is big enough.

Yarn Along 5

This week I actually started two projects - from total non-knittyness to two seems like a gigantic step for me, but that's probably just my head talking.  

The first is a second one of these.  No not the baby.  Well okay, yes the baby.  I am in the process of making a second one of those - hopefully just as cute and giggly as the first.  But what I meant was this week I started making a second bunny.  For the second baby.  I might make some hats for them too...or bows...just so each kid has their own special rabbit.  What super adorable about this is Emily hasn't really played with the rabbit I made her in awhile, but when I pulled out the big skein of boucle yarn at knit night this week she insisted on cuddling with it.  I think that's the sign of some good baby yarn - it's cuddly even before it is anything.

My second project is this.  It's a crocheted evening shawl.  Looks like it doesn't it?  Actually this yarn used to be a different crocheted evening shawl, but when I went back to work on it I had forgotten the pattern and hadn't written it down anywhere.  So I frogged the whole thing and started anew with a new pattern.  I bought a TON of magazines when Borders closed.  Anything that looks remotely pretty I bought.  They were 90% off - you would splurge too.  So I went through my stash of patterns and picked the River Walk from Interweave Crochet.  It's pretty enough.  I think it will do nicely for a vanity project.  

Also at the close of Borders I bought books I always sorta wanted to read, but not enough to actually actively go out and get it at the store or library.  Sarah Vowell had those books.  "Assassination Vacation" was the only one they had at the sale so it's the one I got.  Honestly, it's not that great.  It's quirky and witty and there are some interesting tidbits of information I pick up on, but it feels a little like being forced to see photos of someone else's vacation.  It's a travel log.  But it's not about the place, it's about the opinion of the author of something that happened at that place.  I'm less than hooked 88 pages in.  

However, it's my bath book.  Does anyone else do this?  When Emily takes a bath we splash and play for a little while.  I somehow convince her to wash her hair and get clean, then she is no longer interested in playing with me and just wants to swim around on her own.  So I sit back against the wall next to the tub and read a book.  Usually not anything enthralling, I have one eye on the swimming toddler, but I read.  It's about the only time I do.  Does this make me a bad mother - oh probably.  Whatever.  At least I made her a bunny from scratch.

Weight

The other day I went to my normal doctor to see if he couldn't help me with this cold I've had for awhile.  I haven't been there for a long time so they didn't know I was 13 weeks pregnant when I first came in.

The first they did was of course weigh me.  I stepped up and we looked at the scale:  125.2 lbs.  The nurse looked and chirped happily "Oh good for you!  You lost six pounds!"

Again, I hadn't told her I was pregnant yet.  She didn't know that I have been worrying about losing weight for the past three months.  She didn't say this as a disparaging remark and had no reason to think it would hurt my feelings.  In fact, she was trying to be super nice and encouraging, because what woman doesn't want to be thinner - right?

Actually, 125 is low for me.  Unhealthily low.  At 130 (my normal when I'm depressed/recovering from depression) I look like a zombie.  My face loses all fat and sinks in.  The circles under my eyes are more prominent.  My hips and butt verge on boyish.  At 125 even my breasts (which used to be ample) are gone.  I look like a sad, sad, old woman.  Six pounds isn't anything to celebrate.  However, isn't it always the way that weight loss is celebrated - no matter the situation.  I'm reminded of a joke by Kathy Griffin that when she found out her sister had cancer she was jealous that she was going to be so skinny.

I feel like this is a mostly female thing.  I don't think that men go to the doctor and get a cheer squad on the scale.  Honestly, do they even get a comment either way?  When I was pregnant with Emily I gained one pound in a week.  The nurse, without any prompting, patted me on the shoulder and said "Don't worry, that's probably all baby weight gain."  Would anyone think to try and reassure a man over a single pound?

Even my daughter is stuck on it.  She was a super chubby baby.  Nurses would comment and say that she was a very pretty baby (she so is) but so fat.  The problem there is the "but," as if that keeps her from being as pretty as she could be.  And she wasn't even a year old yet!

I don't know when we thought that weight was suddenly the topic that was allowed to be discussed openly and without tact.  I think maybe we should go back to discussing it like we discuss laundry:  we don't.  Not unless you're helping to do it!

Spread it around

On New Year's Eve I took Emily to the Hawaii Children's Discovery Center for their "Countdown to Noon" Balloon Drop.  We had a great time playing there, we always do.  The Balloon Drop was less than exciting, mostly because I had to pull Emily out from the big drop because parents kept stepping on her.  Let me repeat that:  Parents kept pushing her around and stepping on her.  The kids were very careful around all the smaller babies.

I try to take Emily to the Discovery Center often.  It's fun and she can touch and play with whatever she wants.  However, I do try to avoid it when it's super busy because things can get a little rowdy.  The exceptions are holidays like Halloween and New Year's.  Also, every time we've gone to the Center when it was full Emily and I have both caught some awful cold.  We get away germ free when it's not full.

So of course since I took her when it was packed we are now both fighting a particularly icky cold.  This not only means we both feel terrible, we don't get to go do anything.  We don't get to do anything because when my kid is a mess of germ infested snot I try to keep her away from kids who are not covered in germ infested snot.  Call me crazy, but I just think it's good manners.

Of course now that I am sick, hot, tired, and really, really, crabby I have this great desire to find the parents who took their sick kid to the Discovery Center at New Years and pass this little snot-bug back to them.  In my most vindictive I fantasize that it has already mutated and those parents will be blessed with at least a whole week of grouchy, unhappy kids and a hacking cough that keeps them out of school and bored with daytime television.  Ha-ha-ha--achoo.

But I won't.  Because I don't want to get people sick.  Well not the nice people anyway.

Sleep

The other day my husband asked me "If you had a super power, which one would you want?" and I answered "To get by without needing sleep."

Because for the past few weeks I've had to get by without any sleep.  Emily went through a phase where she would sleep for 20 minutes to an hour before she'd wake up and cry.  Not fuss, not whine, she'd cry.  And it took a lot to settle her down.  For naps in the day she'd go down for about half and hour, then it was go-go-go time again.  She fell asleep in the car on the way back from Costco and I literally thought of pulling over and napping in the car with her.

Of course I initially blame this strange phase on teeth.  Because that is the big cosmic joke isn't it?  You're a baby, you have to grow tall, learn to walk, talk, eat, and ask for help in pretty much everything you do.  Also - you have to do it all while in terrible, irritating, pain.  Then when all the teeth come in and you're finally finished - they fall out and you have to do it all over again.  Welcome to the world.

Despite my tooth-theory Emily has finally gone back to sleeping longer (2-3 1/2 hours at a time) and she still has the same amount of teeth she had before.  But the dark circles under her eyes are gone and I feel more sane.  So maybe they were invisible teeth.

It's amazing how much those extra hours have helped with my relationship with my daughter and my unborn baby.  When sleep deprived I did not want to have another baby and I did not want to play with my current baby.  Emily was bored.  I was tired.  Life generally sucked for both of us.  Now with some sleep I've noticed the milestones Emily made while not sleeping.  She likes to point at pictures in books now.  She has finally figured out the shapes and holes bucket (previously she'd try, then take the lid off and put them in the bucket that way).  Her new favorite food are clementines and she calls them "Mama."  Generally, she's an amazing child.  I had no idea because I was too tired.

Also, while I wasn't sleeping my other baby grew arms and legs and when you look at it through an ultrasound you can see its little head being...headlike.  When I stare at the picture now I see how amazing it is that these kids can grow so much in such little time.  Which is a huge improvement from a week ago when all I could see was how annoying it was that they can get by on such little sleep.

Hau'oli Makahiki Hou!

I stopped making the typical resolutions a few years ago.  Honestly, why start the year off feeling bad because after the holidays I am simply too tired to start a big new regimen of stuff.  Besides, despite all the depression and insecurity, I actually like myself the way I am.  So there.

Instead the new year is a great time to resolve to do things I want to do.  So here is what I'd like to work on this year:

Learning to knit Continental style (I've always been an English knitter, I know how to do it the other way, I just need to perfect it)
Sew more
Sing more
Make more yummy salads for dinner
Sleep one full, complete night, all the way through (this is really a resolution for Emily)

That's it.  Happy New Year!

Lonely

For Christmas Emily and I flew over to Maui to spend time with my parents.  I had a wonderful time being back home and we did great things like visiting my favorite goat farm, walking along the beach, eating amazing food, shopping.  However, the best part of the trip was the company.

It seems strange that in a job like motherhood-at-home where you are literally never apart from your child you could feel so lonely.  In the past 16 months there have been very few times when I've actually been alone.  Maybe a quick trip to the store here and there, or a short nap.  When I'm lucky I get to shower alone.  Lately, I've even been able to close the door for a moment while I go to the bathroom and boy is that a luxury!  But despite being in constant company of my most favorite person in the whole world I am pretty lonely.

In Maui, when Emily and I got out of bed, my parents were there to share breakfast with and generally chat.  For Christmas, after the hustle of present opening, we spent the day simply napping and resting together.  Not a lot of talk or purpose.  Just being together with my mom and my baby, enjoying Hawaii.

After I got home I went back to routine.  Emily and I snuck out of bed, careful not to wake up D since he is on a different sleep/work schedule than Emily.  We spent the morning playing and having a leisurely breakfast.  D got up later and played with us.  Then we went to bed early and D joined us later. It was a special day since D didn't have to go to work, on work days he gets up either later than us or much earlier and we either wake up without him or see him off right before we're planning the afternoon nap.  All times between this are me and Emily hanging out.  Sometimes we have playdates or excursions.  I have clubs and meetings I drag her along too.  However, primarily it's just us girls and for some reason I feel super lonely at these times.

It's not because Emily can't talk yet.  She babbles, but I don't really need the conversation.  I didn't have a lot of it with my mom.  What I think I need is more quiet company of people who understand me.  Often I hear young girls and mothers say that it's great to have a person who will love them no matter what.  I don't get that with Emily.  She loves me, that's clear.  I love her too - no matter what.  But when we spend time together I don't feel she knows me and thinks I'm grand because I am who I am.  She thinks I'm grand because I take care of her, feed her, clean her, hug her, work hard to make sure she's comfortable and happy.  She also thinks I'm a pain the neck because I do all these things.  I'm there for her and that's the way it should be, but it sure is a lonely job.

I fluctuate between desperately needing space - a time to be an adult without Emily or D expecting me to be Mom and Wife to needing no space at all and needing lots of people around me.  It's like being on my own island.  Water everywhere, not a drop to drink.

Mama

Emily is becoming quite the accomplished talker.  She can say all sorts of things and name a lot of the things she loves:  Daddy, Coco (as in Coconut the cat), Joy (the other cat), lights, shoes, Grandma.  However, she still won't say Mama.  I've tried and tried, but she doesn't see the need for a name for me since I always show up when she needs me.  Sometimes when she doesn't need me.

Lately, she's taken to saying "Baba" when she sees and/or wants me.  Part of me feels like this is her take on the "mmmm" sound.  However, she also calls her snacks, water cup, and clothing "Baba."  It might just be the word she likes saying.

But last night as I was laying her in bed she rolled over, half-asleep, reached out her little arms and said ever so softly "Mama."

My heart just about melted.

Music Dam

I've always been a singer.  I haven't always been a particularly good singer.  I can carry a tune, occasionally sound pretty, but as it goes I'm pretty common.  Regardless, I love to sing and I love songs.

Part of this must come from my mother who loves to sing too.  She is like me, a common singer, but she makes up for it in quantity.  Some of my most precious memories are of her singing lullabies while we rocked in a chair or singing christmas carols as we drove up and down the mountain on Maui.  We sang a lot.  We sang constantly.  We sang with happy abandon.  Life was good when we sang and I treasure that she shared songs with me.  I always imagined that I would do the same with my own children.

The other day I had christmas music on in the car.  I looked back and saw Emily, sitting expectantly in her carseat, on the verge of boredom.  It was the perfect opportunity to burst into song and have her join in.  I could sing the same way my mother sang to me.  We could caterwaul as loud as we wanted and giggle when we were done.  Except I couldn't bring myself to sing at all.  I could tap my foot to the beat, I could recall all the words, but I couldn't make my mouth open and say the words.  Or the notes.  Or even hum.  Somewhere between my brain and my mouth was a giant wall of silence.

That's what postpartum depression has done to me.  It's created a permanent wall of silence.  As a new mother I knew I should be constantly talking to my newborn, getting those language skills started, engaging her with the world - bonding.  But even though I knew I should, knew it would be great for the both of us, I couldn't speak.  I'd gently rock her, I'd kiss her and snuggle her, but I couldn't speak to her.  I had a thousand thoughts to tell her, but nothing would come out of my mouth.

Similarly, I couldn't sing.  I'd start a song, begin the first verse, then all of a sudden I'd fall silent.  I could hear the music in my head.  I had all the words and notes flittering in my brain, but nothing would come out of my mouth.  I don't know how long the silence would be, it would take a long time before I noticed I was silent.  I'd keep dancing with Emily, moving to the music.  But she never heard it.

And last christmas.  There were no carols at all.  Not on the radio, not in my head, not out of my mouth.

This year I'm obviously much better.  Emily and I sing lots of different songs.  I play christmas music and usually I sing along.  Emily sings along too and we both dance as much as we can.  But every so often, like the other day, I lose it.  The wall comes back.  The music is stuck, hidden, dammed up.

I feel like postpartum depression stole this from me.  Something that was so precious to my being, something that made me very me, something that I could have passed on to my own child.  Instead all of the love that comes out in lullabies and songs was hidden.  I've been robbed of the joy that used to come with singing and Emily has been robbed of a joyful mother.  It makes me incredibly sad that it seems to be gone, even as I get better, it's still gone and I wonder if it will ever return.

Grandparents are good for...

...lots of things.  Grandparents are good for a lot of things.  But one thing they don't tell you before you have kids is that Grandparents are excellent for your personal hygiene.

Like when they come over for the weekend and Mama gets to take a shower two days in a row.  


Grandparents are good for that.

Sign

Yesterday evening I got an awesome package in the mail from Mommy used to be so pretty...  A little while ago I had "won" a giveaway from her.  Just finding out I had won an internet giveaway was awesome, actually finding the package in my mail was even better.  Made my day.

In the little package was a bottle of Soothage Soothing Gel and Prenatal Vitamins.

We are sorta, kinda, maybe, it'd-be-a-happy-thing-if-it-happened-but-I'm-not-sure-I'm-fully-ready-but-I-sorta-want-to-get-excited-about trying to conceive.  Kinda.  In a way.  A little bit.  So I'm kinda, in a way, hoping these prenatal vitamins coming now might be a sign.

Clothes

My husband has been helping with Emily's clothes more lately.  Usually he has nothing to do with her dressing or changing as he's either at work or asleep when it happens.  So he doesn't really know the clothing system I've devised where there are some things that Emily does not fit hanging in her closet and some that she does fit into.  This is for two reasons.  One - I don't want to pack things away to early.  There needs to be a critical mass of clothes that are too small for me to want to break out the boxes and put away a new set of clothes.  Two - there are things she will fit soon.  Things like pajamas that will be perfect when Emily has another growth spurt, but don't fit now because her arms and legs are fat.  If these are left in the box or drawers now, while she doesn't fit them, I will forget them when she is finally ready to wear them and once again my kid will be stuck squeezing into the same dang pair as always - or going naked.  Poor Emily.

Of course I know what is part of what system, but my husband doesn't, so the other day he had to attempt to fit a bunch of different pairs of pajamas on her before giving up and handing the screaming toddler over to me.

All of this means it's time to pack.  This morning we moved half of the 12 clothes into the bin and made sure all the 18 month clothes were out of storage.  There is a giant lack of 18 month clothes so I also went through her 24 month sets and picked out the ones that run small.  Circo, Garanimals, and Gerber tend to run smaller.  This is all bitter sweet for me.  First of all, there are far more casual play clothes in these sets.  No more frilly dresses.  There are some of course, but for some reason people think toddlers should wear shorts and jeans and play shirts.  I personally think she should still wear lacy, frilly things.  You can still climb a tree in frilly dresses - trust me I've destroyed enough lace to know.

It's also bittersweet because these clothes are designed to be easier for little people to dress themselves.  Emily is already an expert at getting my shorts on over her head and she has figured out sleeves on her shirts.  In just a little while she'll be pulling up her own jeans and picking out her own shirts.  Gone are the days of me playing dress-up with my little doll.  She'll want to put on what she wants and I'll have to nod and say "Okay honey.  Good job."  As exciting as it is to watch my child make her own choices and take care of herself it is also super sad.  I spent a long year trying to remember to savor all this itty-bitty baby-ness.  And I still feel like I didn't get enough.  I need more baby snuggles, more hours with an tiny hand wrapped around mine.

So maybe I had a third reason for my clothing system:  Keeping those little baby things around just a little longer.

Toddler Love

This weekend I've been trying to decide on a good blog post.  Emily is hitting a very difficult stage right now and I'm coming up on a new mama-phase myself.  I thought maybe I'd vent some over the new toddler challenges.  Or confess over the old mama-failings.  

But then this morning I took Emily out to the park and when I picked her up out of the car she rested her head on my shoulder and nuzzled.  Earlier that morning she crawled up my chest and planted a big 'ole smacker on my nose.  Yesterday, she ran up in the middle of the Discovery Center where she was surrounded by toys and games, gave me a hug, then ran away.  

In between all these little sweet moments she's had tantrums and fits and other unpleasantness.  I don't care though, because she likes to hug and snuggle now too.

Toddler love is fleeting, but oh so sweet.

Parenting Hours

So I read this article last week or sometime about how mothers spend over 1100 more hours parenting than fathers do.  However, the survey was for working mothers and fathers who average 7.5 and 4.5 hours each day respectively.  It doesn't really apply to me because I average 22-24 hours a day.  Yes, I count sleeping time as parenting time because often sleeping time means attempting to doze while balancing a baby on my chest.  She's been having some rough nights lately...

I also had a problem with the fact that the article was basically an ad for VTech toys.  Instead of buying another toy why not get Dad to change a diaper once in awhile?  Or pick up a toy?  Or clean her g-d hands!

I've been harboring some resentment.  Last weekend Emily had a bad night when we got home from the AF Ball.  I was already tired and spent, but she needed extra love.  I get it.  We were away for a long time (about 9 hours, the longest time we've been separated yet).  The next morning Emily wanted out of bed at 6am.  Guess who got up with her?  Me.  At around 10am I thought she wanted a nap and I brought her back to bed (where my husband had been sleeping) and tried to nap with her.  She didn't want a nap.  She got up at 10:15am.  Guess who got up with her?  Me.

At around 1pm my husband got out of bed and offered to take her while I took a nap.  They went downstairs and he had some breakfast.  I curled up in bed and drifted off to sleep.  At 1:25pm my husband came back to bed, with Emily, and told me they were going to take a nap.  Emily was not ready for a nap.  Guess who got up with her?  Me.  After a 25 minute nap.  Guess who went bad to sleep?  Him. After sleeping a full 12+ hours.

I have hated him just a little bit all week.  More so each time I got up with Emily every night.  And day.

But then there was today.  We had another rough night and she got up at 5:30am.  I played with her till 10:30am and then I broke.  No sleep, no naps, no break, and a headache made Mommy mad.  I carried her upstairs and dumped her on the bed.  He got 5 extra hours of sleep, he could watch the baby for 20 minutes.  Then I went to take a shower and I locked the door.

To his credit D watched her while I showered and changed.  Then he watched her while I went to Wal-Mart and got my contacts and glasses ordered.  And shopped.  When I got home he held her off from nursing so I could finish a row of knitting.

So, yes, in our house fathers don't spend as many hours as mothers.  And sometimes that makes me mad.  But those few hours I do get without Emily are so precious and so welcome that I am more grateful.

Other People

I posted to someone else's blog that hell is other people.  I think I'm gonna amend that.  Hell is other people's kids.

Emily met her first bully this week.  At McDonald's Play Place.  She took it in stride, but I've talked about this all week and it still bothers me.  Emily, I'm sure, has already forgotten.

There were only a few children at the playground when we went and they were all toddlers.  Emily was probably the second youngest and the second smallest kid there.  The oldest boy there had to be about two, maybe slightly older.  His mother and her friend spent a good portion of the time calling out that he needed to calm down.  He did need too, but it wasn't that bad.

In the toddler area they had some soft toys that looked like turtles and ladybugs.  Emily loved these, but they were slightly bigger than she was ready for so she was taking her time inspecting how to climb up and ride them.  Once she figured it out and went to try the older boy came over, shoved her off, and jumped on.  This is where I'm proud of Emily - she just went onto the other.  Again, the older boy ran over, shoved her off, and jumped on.  They did this for a few rounds before Emily finally ran over to me with the most confused look on her face.  After some assurance Emily was off again.  And the same thing happened, over and over.  First with the turtles, then the slide, the steps, the little houses, the toys, everything.  The older boy even felt the need to shut the door to the toddler area and not let anyone in or out despite much pulling and screaming.  Emily never got to whining or crying, but the other children did.  The last straw was when Emily was playing in a house and the boy ran over, knocked her on the ground, then kicked - kicked - her by her stomach out of the house and onto the play mat.  Emily ran over (still not crying) and I scooped her up and whisked her away.  We left right after that.  Emily might not have been bothered, but Mommy was freaked.


The thing that really bothered me was the complete lack of reaction by this boy's mother.  Part of me wants to vent and holler that she didn't do anything.  The other part of me wants to not be a judgmental bitch and try to acknowledge that she was probably tired, has to take care of a very active (possibly overactive) child all the time, and maybe this wasn't really bad behavior for him.  Maybe she needed to pick her battles.  I only saw him for an hour I can't judge what was the best thing to do for him.


I can judge what was best for Emily though and that made me want to make a big deal of pushing and hitting and kicking.  I wanted to holler and tsk and be very upset so that Emily would get the idea that behavior like that is totally unacceptable.  Because in my little world it is.  But it wasn't my little world and it wasn't my little kid.  So I resorted to the typical Hawaii-style commentary and pointedly looked at his mother while I said to Emily "That boy plays too rough, what a meany-head."  She, in typical Hawaii-style, rolled her eyes.  Auwe!


The real bad part about this run in with a bully is that I'm totally worried Emily is going to emulate him.  Now, when she plays, I am always watching for some sign of bullishness that I need to nip in the bud quick.  Instead of seeing my sweet girl going to play with another kid in the totally unaware-of-personal-space way toddlers play I see her drop-kicking her new friend into the parking lot.  That sucks. It's not fair to Emily.  It's not fair she had to leave cause someone else was too aggressive and it's not fair that her mother is now certain she's gonna try these new play tactics soon.  She deserves the benefit of the doubt.  And a safe playground.  


And I blame all this on other people - and their kids! (And, okay, maybe some of my own neurosis.)

Grandparents

This past week my parents came over from Maui to visit.  They came for Emily's birthday, but honestly it was a gift to me.  For the first time in months I was able to do things without Emily.  I went to the eye doctor, I got my hair done, I went dress shopping and actually got to try something on.  Most of all I got a ton of time at home to not chase the baby around.  My parents chased her around instead.

In addition to all this mommy-time I am heading back to full-time parenting with a brand-new baby.  This past week Emily has leaped from charming baby to full-blown toddler with new words, expressions, games, skills and personality.  This always happens when we visit with my parents - I call it the "Grandma Effect."  I don't know what it is, but Emily always saves all her new skills for when my parents are around.  I often say "Oh, she doesn't know how to do that yet" and then, right then, she'll do it.

Part of me worries this is a reflection on my mothering skills.  Maybe my parents are better.  I know that I often don't talk as much as my mother does.  I want to, I try to, but then the exhaustion sets in and I find myself changing a diaper silently.  Emily doesn't seem to mind, I still smile and interact with her, but the words disappear.  I also may not push her as hard.  Since noticing how she reacted to other family members pressing her to crawl I made up my mind to let her lead the way when it comes to milestones.  But that also means sometimes I forget to put the crayon in her hand.  Grandma does it all the time.

Grandma and Grandpa also let her do lots of things Mama does not.  Like play with their phones and computers and glasses.  I try not to use "no" a lot with Emily - only for certain things that could get her killed or break something really valuable - but for some reason when Grandma and Grandpa say "no" she listens much more than she does to me.

In general, Emily loves her grandparents.  They left yesterday and this morning she ran into their room over and over looking for them.  If she hadn't decided to get her hug from me instead I might have gotten really jealous.

The rational part of me knows that the new people and interaction is what spurs Emily to grow, not anything lacking in me.  My brother has even said his children do the same thing.  But it's hard not to watch my Mom and think she does everything better than me.  I'm lucky I have a wonderful mother who knows so much.  I want to be just like her and am never sure if I will.