That pacifier was a dearer friend than we realized. In fact, we´ve come to realize that it was more our friend than Ari´s.
It has been over a week now, and "Tut" has been sorely missed. Ari rarely mentions it at all, but we have noticed such a change since we´ve taken it away from her. Her sleep-routine and cycle have changed dramatically, and we´re not too pleased with it. So, while Ari has moved forward in life without her pacy, we often think, "if only we could let her use it again!"
This is how things have changed:
Whereas Ari used to just point at her crib, say "bed," gather her friends (Bunnydog, Greeny Mouse, and Winnie the Pooh, or "Pooh-ey"),and lay quietly until falling asleep, she now makes several demands before settling down.
First, she wants to sit with Mama, as I mentioned in other posts. Then, she wants an extra song, an extra story, and extra anything-to-keep-her-out-of-bed. All of this in addition to her regular routine, mind you. We do read to her, hold her, sing to her, and go through all the steps every night. Sometimes, she throws a terrible tantrum when we don´t comply. Her screeching and screaming really bother us, because it is such a new development. And we´re not going to let it continue. At first, I would give in: I would hold her a little longer, read the extra story. But then she´d cry even more, make more demands. So, one day, I walked out of her room while she was protesting, red with anger. I was angry, and thought it best to just leave her. Then, the unexpected happened...... she just calmed down immediately. We´ve used that tactic ever since.
So, the walking-away method has been effective, but we are a bit discouraged that it has come to that. She used to be so cooperative when it was time to go to sleep. Really a good sleeper.
And there is the second issue: waking up. Ari used to sleep in every day until about 8:30. A lot of times, she would wake up quietly and start to talk to herself or sing until we´d come in to fetch her and to greet the morning. It was ideal. I always knew we were lucky to have a child who slept in, because so many children start the day at 7, or earlier. Sometimes, Ari would even fall back asleep after the initial waking-up, and not get up again until 9:30.
Well, ever since we´ve gotten rid of the pacifier, she has been waking up at 7:40. A whole hour earlier than usual! Almost every day. And she wakes up with determination: she is ready to get out of bed, and we better go to her immediately. I realize that is not an ungodly hour by any means, but it has been an adjustment, especially as I am more tired than usual.
It also takes her about 3 times as long to fall asleep for her nap. She used to be quiet almost immediately and sleep for 2 and 1/2 hours. Now, it takes her 1 hour to actually fall asleep.
The pacifier seems to have played a bigger part than we realized. It helped her to fall asleep, to just rest and relax. And now that it´s gone, she is awake when she is awake.
These weeks have been challenging. Ari has made it a priority to test our boundaries....continuously. She must have a sensor for it, for her Mama´s slacking-off, or something. When I am on the phone (or otherwise distracted), she takes her chances. She will do almost everything that is not allowed.
I have been feeling like such a party-pooper. We´ve entered a new phase, and I doubt we´ll get out of it before the decade is over. I am no longer the best friend. I can´t be. Some mothers try that, but I don´t think it would benefit either of us. So, I burst Ari´s little bubbles: I am stern with her. She is so dramatic (wonder where she got that :-) ), and it is getting out of hand. She cries real tears, and whines so pathetically when we don´t let her get away with things.
Being 36+ weeks pregnant doesn´t make it any easier. I run out of patience and energy. She senses that, too. It´s going to be tough to transition to life as a Mama of 2. To have to give them both their attention: to tend to their needs simultaneously.
I look forward to Baby Zus´arrival... I am totally excited to see what she is like and how she will change our family-dynamics, but I also feel the weight of the responsibility already.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
When Pregnant in Spain....
Heed my words, ´tis not something for the punctual, the prudish, or the presumptuous.
*You will be kept waiting. Also, everything regarding the time&place&purpose of your visit will be terribly vague. Remedy? CALL in advance: yesterday, I called my clinic to find out the details of today´s appointment. Whether I would be meeting with the matrona (midwife), or with the OBGYN, and whether I would need to go to the clinic or the hospital. Had I not called, I would not have discovered that the appointment-time on my digital record did not correspond with the time written down on my manilla envelope by the caregiver. So, 10:30 had turned into 11:03, and I would have never known, had I not decided to ask for details. On another note, calling doesn´t always clear things up. I asked whether my appointment would be for an ultrasound (as I guessed from where it had been written down on my envelope: in the column for OBGYN-check ups), or for a more basic check-up with the midwife. The answer I got from the desk-lady was, "it will not be for an ultrasound. You will meet with the matrona."
So, Ari and I headed to the clinic this morning, expecting a 2-minute mini-check up with miss matrona at 11:03, and getting quite the opposite. First, we had to wait for about half an hour (and I had stupidly rushed on my way over, because that´s my default pace...... so I arrived out of breath, annoyed, and warm). Then, I discovered that everything else I had been told was rubbish, too. (see next *)
*You will be exposed without warning: so, I stepped into the office to discover that, after all (and contrary to what I had been told), this was a more lengthy check-up with the OBGYN. For starters (and without any prior notice), they did a "cultivo" (strange word in this context) of my nether regions. "Regions", plural, that´s right. Without any explanation. I should have asked, of course, but I was completely taken by surprise. Nevertheless, it´s a matter of acting as nonchalant about it as they do. "Oh, you need to do some prying with that giant q-tip? Sure thing." A reminder to always be prepared & proper when heading to a Dr´s visit, by the way.
Oh, and, after some research, I discovered that these "cultivos" are now standard in the third trimester, and serve to detect a potential case of "Group B streptococcus".
*You will receive the least amount of information possible: and questions are neither expected nor appreciated. I insist, however. So, I always get a little annoying, asking "why" and "when" and "how". They must think I´m a smart-alec. When I shared my idea of presenting a Birth-Plan, they were like, "who do you think you are?? That is not the way we do things here!" Spanish medical caregivers expect their patients to just nod and get out of their office. This is why, 8 out of 10 times, I leave the check-ups with more questions than answers regarding my situation. I do ask a question or two, yes, but they are in such a hurry that you forget half of what you wanted to know more about. Most check-ups last a grand total of 2 minutes.
You usually end up feeling a little dazed by these check-ups. Usually, because you´ve just spent 2 hours getting there and walk away after a few minutes of nothing. Nothing, that´s right. Irrelevant questions, a look at the scale... and that´s that. But on other days (today, for instance), they check things you weren´t told would be checked. And then they do the longest ultrasound yet. At least I got that reward: I got to see Baby Zus´little face, and I made sure the OBGYN told me exactly how she was doing, and how she was floating in there. Finally, a confirmation that what I´ve been feeling on the left-middle section of my belly are indeed her feet, and that it is her bottom that is pressed against my ribs. And, more importantly, that she is not so tiny, after all. Yep, my belly may not be huge, but the baby is tall, just like her sister. As for my insignificant pouch: it´s just smaller because I´m "grandota". Thanks, M´am! Grandota, as in FAT, or tall???
Now, a nap is in order. Women, and mothers in particular, really are put through a LOT. I wonder how men would fare in similar predicaments.
*You will be kept waiting. Also, everything regarding the time&place&purpose of your visit will be terribly vague. Remedy? CALL in advance: yesterday, I called my clinic to find out the details of today´s appointment. Whether I would be meeting with the matrona (midwife), or with the OBGYN, and whether I would need to go to the clinic or the hospital. Had I not called, I would not have discovered that the appointment-time on my digital record did not correspond with the time written down on my manilla envelope by the caregiver. So, 10:30 had turned into 11:03, and I would have never known, had I not decided to ask for details. On another note, calling doesn´t always clear things up. I asked whether my appointment would be for an ultrasound (as I guessed from where it had been written down on my envelope: in the column for OBGYN-check ups), or for a more basic check-up with the midwife. The answer I got from the desk-lady was, "it will not be for an ultrasound. You will meet with the matrona."
So, Ari and I headed to the clinic this morning, expecting a 2-minute mini-check up with miss matrona at 11:03, and getting quite the opposite. First, we had to wait for about half an hour (and I had stupidly rushed on my way over, because that´s my default pace...... so I arrived out of breath, annoyed, and warm). Then, I discovered that everything else I had been told was rubbish, too. (see next *)
*You will be exposed without warning: so, I stepped into the office to discover that, after all (and contrary to what I had been told), this was a more lengthy check-up with the OBGYN. For starters (and without any prior notice), they did a "cultivo" (strange word in this context) of my nether regions. "Regions", plural, that´s right. Without any explanation. I should have asked, of course, but I was completely taken by surprise. Nevertheless, it´s a matter of acting as nonchalant about it as they do. "Oh, you need to do some prying with that giant q-tip? Sure thing." A reminder to always be prepared & proper when heading to a Dr´s visit, by the way.
Oh, and, after some research, I discovered that these "cultivos" are now standard in the third trimester, and serve to detect a potential case of "Group B streptococcus".
*You will receive the least amount of information possible: and questions are neither expected nor appreciated. I insist, however. So, I always get a little annoying, asking "why" and "when" and "how". They must think I´m a smart-alec. When I shared my idea of presenting a Birth-Plan, they were like, "who do you think you are?? That is not the way we do things here!" Spanish medical caregivers expect their patients to just nod and get out of their office. This is why, 8 out of 10 times, I leave the check-ups with more questions than answers regarding my situation. I do ask a question or two, yes, but they are in such a hurry that you forget half of what you wanted to know more about. Most check-ups last a grand total of 2 minutes.
You usually end up feeling a little dazed by these check-ups. Usually, because you´ve just spent 2 hours getting there and walk away after a few minutes of nothing. Nothing, that´s right. Irrelevant questions, a look at the scale... and that´s that. But on other days (today, for instance), they check things you weren´t told would be checked. And then they do the longest ultrasound yet. At least I got that reward: I got to see Baby Zus´little face, and I made sure the OBGYN told me exactly how she was doing, and how she was floating in there. Finally, a confirmation that what I´ve been feeling on the left-middle section of my belly are indeed her feet, and that it is her bottom that is pressed against my ribs. And, more importantly, that she is not so tiny, after all. Yep, my belly may not be huge, but the baby is tall, just like her sister. As for my insignificant pouch: it´s just smaller because I´m "grandota". Thanks, M´am! Grandota, as in FAT, or tall???
Now, a nap is in order. Women, and mothers in particular, really are put through a LOT. I wonder how men would fare in similar predicaments.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The Will at the Wheel.
(How corny.) Oh My.
God must be orchestrating this, with this kind of logic: okay, so you´ve got about a month.... you better figure out this mothering thing with your firstborn before the baby makes her debut.
It has been an interesting week... interesting, as in HARD. With the pacifier-weaning, and all.
Actually, that has gone surprisingly smoothly: by the third night, Ari just let me tuck her in without any whining. And things stayed quiet. But last night, we had a bit of a situation.
Ari woke up at 1-ish & wanted to sit with me, as usual... So, she did. Only this time, she didn´t cue me to put her back to bed after 2 minutes. No, she demanded that I hold her, that I stay with her. She wanted her star-music, too. But I thought, "wait a minute, I am not going to stay in this chair all night.." and I put her in her bed. Well, she did NOT agree. She was enraged: she screamed and yelled, "mama zitten!", held on to my neck with violent insistence.
At first, I thought she may have just needed some extra comfort, but then I realized that I was dealing with a temper-tantrum. That it was a will-thing, not a need-thing. So, I stepped out of the room and stood by her door. She continued screaming, but it stopped after only a few minutes.
But, because I am really stupid sometimes, I figured she´d need to be tucked in again. Never mind that she was wearing a sleeping-bag, which would have kept her warm enough. I thought she needed to be checked on. SO, I foolishly opened the door and got the whole drama started again. It appears that "mama zitten" has become a substitute for the pacifier. But we weren´t going to follow through with that one.
It would have been nice to have Daniel there, but he had a concert and wasn´t there. I wanted his perspective. How do single parents do it?? Not just tending to their children & the efforts that requires, but just knowing what to do. Sometimes, no, frequently, it takes the both of us to solve a problem with this child!
The truth is that we don´t have the discipline-thing figured out at all. So, Baby Zus will come around next month, turn our world upside down, and we still won´t even know how to parent her older sister!
I have figured out this much, though: the key is recognizing what you´re dealing with, identifying the cause of the problem. Duh. No, really. So, it comes to this: my daughter is almost 2, and though she still has plenty of needs, it is her will that takes the wheel most of the time. She is want-driven. She may be really young, but she is also really clever: she knows that she has a lot of power over her smitten parents! That´s what I had to tell myself last night, while I was torn between holding her and letting her go. And, magically, once I put the proper boundaries in place (ex. leaving her with her tantrum, because it was just out of place), she gave up and went to sleep.
From our experience with Ari, we have come to the conclusion that, from time to time, children just need some space. "In hun eigen soepje gaarkoken" ("to cook in their own soup").
Obviously, I don´t mean that we should ignore their cries. Not at all. But I think the following method may be effective and beneficial:
1). Attend: respond to the crying.
2). Identify the cause of the problem: need versus want.
3). Solve: make the problem go away!
need- deal with the issue: change the diaper, offer the drink, comfort & calm, etc.
want- set the boundaries: night-time is NOT the time to play. Explain & Walk Away.
So, once we have made sure that Ari´s needs are met, we explain that it is time to sleep, we put on her star-music, rub her back, and we walk away. It´s so easy to think that they want/need us to fix everything for them. They do when they´re babies, of course. I never walked away when Ari was a baby. But sometimes, at this stage, it´s a matter of showing her that she can solve some of her own problems. And then, she does. And it´s faster & easier that way.
Last night, Ari definitely needed to be left alone with her frustration. I say that, because her response to it was so clear: she calmed down almost immediately after I left her.
I might have thought that holding was the best way to help; but while I held her, she just kicked and screamed. I was only aggravating the problem.
Anyway, it was a challenging ordeal. It took me a long time to fall back asleep afterwards.
I am so desperate to be the right parent for Ari. To figure it out with her. But it is such a painful process, sometimes.
It overwhelms me, then, to think of caring for a second child while I am still such a novice at dealing with Ari´s phases & stages. Wish us luck, people. We´ll need it.
This is such the mother-blog. That was not my intention. But it seems to be all I can think about these days.
p.s. I made a scrumptious Endive Salad last night. Reminded me of Holland.
God must be orchestrating this, with this kind of logic: okay, so you´ve got about a month.... you better figure out this mothering thing with your firstborn before the baby makes her debut.
It has been an interesting week... interesting, as in HARD. With the pacifier-weaning, and all.
Actually, that has gone surprisingly smoothly: by the third night, Ari just let me tuck her in without any whining. And things stayed quiet. But last night, we had a bit of a situation.
Ari woke up at 1-ish & wanted to sit with me, as usual... So, she did. Only this time, she didn´t cue me to put her back to bed after 2 minutes. No, she demanded that I hold her, that I stay with her. She wanted her star-music, too. But I thought, "wait a minute, I am not going to stay in this chair all night.." and I put her in her bed. Well, she did NOT agree. She was enraged: she screamed and yelled, "mama zitten!", held on to my neck with violent insistence.
At first, I thought she may have just needed some extra comfort, but then I realized that I was dealing with a temper-tantrum. That it was a will-thing, not a need-thing. So, I stepped out of the room and stood by her door. She continued screaming, but it stopped after only a few minutes.
But, because I am really stupid sometimes, I figured she´d need to be tucked in again. Never mind that she was wearing a sleeping-bag, which would have kept her warm enough. I thought she needed to be checked on. SO, I foolishly opened the door and got the whole drama started again. It appears that "mama zitten" has become a substitute for the pacifier. But we weren´t going to follow through with that one.
It would have been nice to have Daniel there, but he had a concert and wasn´t there. I wanted his perspective. How do single parents do it?? Not just tending to their children & the efforts that requires, but just knowing what to do. Sometimes, no, frequently, it takes the both of us to solve a problem with this child!
The truth is that we don´t have the discipline-thing figured out at all. So, Baby Zus will come around next month, turn our world upside down, and we still won´t even know how to parent her older sister!
I have figured out this much, though: the key is recognizing what you´re dealing with, identifying the cause of the problem. Duh. No, really. So, it comes to this: my daughter is almost 2, and though she still has plenty of needs, it is her will that takes the wheel most of the time. She is want-driven. She may be really young, but she is also really clever: she knows that she has a lot of power over her smitten parents! That´s what I had to tell myself last night, while I was torn between holding her and letting her go. And, magically, once I put the proper boundaries in place (ex. leaving her with her tantrum, because it was just out of place), she gave up and went to sleep.
From our experience with Ari, we have come to the conclusion that, from time to time, children just need some space. "In hun eigen soepje gaarkoken" ("to cook in their own soup").
Obviously, I don´t mean that we should ignore their cries. Not at all. But I think the following method may be effective and beneficial:
1). Attend: respond to the crying.
2). Identify the cause of the problem: need versus want.
3). Solve: make the problem go away!
need- deal with the issue: change the diaper, offer the drink, comfort & calm, etc.
want- set the boundaries: night-time is NOT the time to play. Explain & Walk Away.
So, once we have made sure that Ari´s needs are met, we explain that it is time to sleep, we put on her star-music, rub her back, and we walk away. It´s so easy to think that they want/need us to fix everything for them. They do when they´re babies, of course. I never walked away when Ari was a baby. But sometimes, at this stage, it´s a matter of showing her that she can solve some of her own problems. And then, she does. And it´s faster & easier that way.
Last night, Ari definitely needed to be left alone with her frustration. I say that, because her response to it was so clear: she calmed down almost immediately after I left her.
I might have thought that holding was the best way to help; but while I held her, she just kicked and screamed. I was only aggravating the problem.
Anyway, it was a challenging ordeal. It took me a long time to fall back asleep afterwards.
I am so desperate to be the right parent for Ari. To figure it out with her. But it is such a painful process, sometimes.
It overwhelms me, then, to think of caring for a second child while I am still such a novice at dealing with Ari´s phases & stages. Wish us luck, people. We´ll need it.
This is such the mother-blog. That was not my intention. But it seems to be all I can think about these days.
p.s. I made a scrumptious Endive Salad last night. Reminded me of Holland.
Friday, November 6, 2009
What if it´s True?
When I am not pondering the joys and difficulties of grand motherhood, I read up on conspiracy-theories, just for fun.
(*digression: I am also considering a way to eliminate the 3 flies that have been hovering above the keyboard for the last 3 days, buzzing, and squatting, uninvited, on my hands.)
So, you may not want to indulge my paranoias too much by sending me this type of stuff. It will get my brain-juices flowing, with all of its consequences (namely, annoying rants).
And another interesting one, by a Spanish nun & expert in the field.. (For some reason, nuns always do seem to be rather sensible & credible sources :-))
No, it is foolish, really. I sat through these videos, and subsequently felt the urge to warn everyone I know by posting this entry, among other things.
(Regardless of Daniel´s skepticism) I mean, my husband does his part.... he tries to put things in perspective for me (when I seem incapable of rational thought), but I can´t help but buy into conspiracy-theories.
So, you were expecting another story about Pacifier-weaning, or some anecdote that is only really interesting to mothers, and you get THIS! *consider yourselves lucky not to be married to me: Daniel is a VERY patient guy & he has so much of this to put up with. And then he has the lovely task of trying to redirect my focus. so, while you can just click this tedious mess away, he gets the whole speech when he comes home from work..... or, worse, over the phone while on a break from work!
First, I felt the Swine-Flu fear incited by the media. I was all, "I need to get myself a mask, find a cave or something for quarantine....NOW!" Then, we presumably got the wretched flu (though untested), I wore the mask for 10 hours, and recovered, sort of. We´re all still coughing, but it has all been unexpectedly mild.
Then (this morning), I heard the other side of the story, and felt alarm of another kind. Alarm on a greater scale. If it were just a bunch of crazy hippies, maybe I´d be more reluctant to accept their theories; but here you´ve got educated people.... explaining with great detail that there is much to fear. Corruption and Bio-terrorism. The creepy stuff that you see in those futuristic movies (think Clive Owen in "Children of Men", for instance, or that one about the punks in some abandoned part of Scotland)... Get the picture? Those movies that disturb you for an hour and a half..... but then you remind yourself that this is not the future, that all of that sensationalism is out of place, at least, for now.
And I remembered the Louis Theroux episode about the Survivalists... a group of crazies somewhere up in Idaho (the "safest" part of the world, apparently), who are quite convinced that the New World Order is imminent.... and they´re prepared to defend themselves, and they´re not looking for trouble, just staying alert.
I might be laughing when I watch those interviews, but, secretly, I understand them. And I think, for just a little while, that maybe the rest of us are really crazy, for not going underground ourselves.
So, what do you (sensible ones!) think of it??? Is it time for a non-violent revolution??
(*digression: I am also considering a way to eliminate the 3 flies that have been hovering above the keyboard for the last 3 days, buzzing, and squatting, uninvited, on my hands.)
So, you may not want to indulge my paranoias too much by sending me this type of stuff. It will get my brain-juices flowing, with all of its consequences (namely, annoying rants).
And another interesting one, by a Spanish nun & expert in the field.. (For some reason, nuns always do seem to be rather sensible & credible sources :-))
CAMPANAS POR LA GRIPE A from ALISH on Vimeo.
No, it is foolish, really. I sat through these videos, and subsequently felt the urge to warn everyone I know by posting this entry, among other things.
(Regardless of Daniel´s skepticism) I mean, my husband does his part.... he tries to put things in perspective for me (when I seem incapable of rational thought), but I can´t help but buy into conspiracy-theories.
So, you were expecting another story about Pacifier-weaning, or some anecdote that is only really interesting to mothers, and you get THIS! *consider yourselves lucky not to be married to me: Daniel is a VERY patient guy & he has so much of this to put up with. And then he has the lovely task of trying to redirect my focus. so, while you can just click this tedious mess away, he gets the whole speech when he comes home from work..... or, worse, over the phone while on a break from work!
First, I felt the Swine-Flu fear incited by the media. I was all, "I need to get myself a mask, find a cave or something for quarantine....NOW!" Then, we presumably got the wretched flu (though untested), I wore the mask for 10 hours, and recovered, sort of. We´re all still coughing, but it has all been unexpectedly mild.
Then (this morning), I heard the other side of the story, and felt alarm of another kind. Alarm on a greater scale. If it were just a bunch of crazy hippies, maybe I´d be more reluctant to accept their theories; but here you´ve got educated people.... explaining with great detail that there is much to fear. Corruption and Bio-terrorism. The creepy stuff that you see in those futuristic movies (think Clive Owen in "Children of Men", for instance, or that one about the punks in some abandoned part of Scotland)... Get the picture? Those movies that disturb you for an hour and a half..... but then you remind yourself that this is not the future, that all of that sensationalism is out of place, at least, for now.
And I remembered the Louis Theroux episode about the Survivalists... a group of crazies somewhere up in Idaho (the "safest" part of the world, apparently), who are quite convinced that the New World Order is imminent.... and they´re prepared to defend themselves, and they´re not looking for trouble, just staying alert.
I might be laughing when I watch those interviews, but, secretly, I understand them. And I think, for just a little while, that maybe the rest of us are really crazy, for not going underground ourselves.
So, what do you (sensible ones!) think of it??? Is it time for a non-violent revolution??
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Mean
I disappoint myself.
For some reason, (I am guessing a combination of hormones that are a little out of whack & just the loneliness that sometimes comes with being a full-time home-dweller) I have been irritable lately.
Snappy, moody, unpleasant. Arianna is having to live through all of this craziness. She is with me ALL the time, and she probably knows me a lot better than most by now.
She knows how fun I can be; how enthusiastic & silly I am....most of the time. Really, I am pretty upbeat: I do a lot of singing and clapping, and drama (the cheerful kind) is very much a part of my days with my daughter. For the entire first year and a half of Ari´s life I have been a cheerleader.
Well, I have gotten a little tired of cheering. I still have the world to be ecstatic about: the cutest and most amusing child, for one thing. But I´ve grown weary of being a perfect companion.
Most of the day, I want to just take a nap. And another nap. I am tired. Ari isn´t tired at all. She runs around, she greets the world with enthusiasm each morning and looks for adventure in every corner of this crowded house. I can´t keep up with her. She hands me toys & make-belief toys and relies on me for entertainment. I oblige her as much as I can: point at a picture of the moon in one of her books and say in a silly high-pitched voice, "O, kijk, de maan! Wat MOOI!" ("oh, look, the moon! How BEAUTIFUL!"). And then she wants me to read the book again, or to put the puzzle pieces in their place for the 6th time. And my voice drops. Sometimes I´m so wretched I even sigh. And she says, "Mama is moe,"("Mama is tired) with such sweet consideration and concern, and I want to cry because she is so so friendly and I can be such a lifeless cow.
(I kind of miss feeling like the funnest Mama on the planet.....)
And sometimes....more regularly than I would like to admit.....I just snap. Ari´s a dear, but she is also very much in her toddler-teens. She does the wrong things ALL the time, and intentionally. She´ll give me a sideway-glance, with a very wicked little twinkle in her beautiful eyes, and then she´ll reach for the computer, or the television. Or the kitchen-cabinets.
She knows exactly what is allowed and what is not. We´ve made it pretty clear. And then she defies us by, say, taking the keys off our laptop keyboard. It´s exhausting.
I used to deal with it quite well, if I may say so myself. I´d correct her consistently and calmly, and much according to the pedagogical protocol. But lately, I´ve been so irritable. Instead of sitting on the floor with her to correct her gently, I´ve been snatching the headphones (or other "stolen" items) out of her hands, yelling "NEE, Ari! Dat mag niet!" ("No, Ari! That´s not allowed!"). And it startles her from time to time. Then I feel like the worst mother on the planet, and I apologize to her, and I explain that Mama just wants her to listen.
It is so awful to see her responses to my impatience. I don´t want to be intimidating. I want to be predictable and calm and fair. She deserves that much. I did so well for a while: really, I applaud myself for the first year and something. It was almost effortless. But now I catch myself a little too late, when Ari has already dropped whatever naughty thing she was doing, and looks at me in shock. And then I hold her and apologize for being too strict, for snapping.
Snap, snap, snap.
There´s little room for excuses here, but I do think it would help if I could get away. Just for a few hours. I would never have dreamed of saying something so selfish a year ago, but things are different now. Every other week or so, it would be kind of nice to have a few hours to myself. Refueling-time. To drop the Mama-role for just a short while, and think about things completely unrelated to my child(ren). Right now, I am not even sure I´m capable of it: of switching my brain off to that overarching part of my existence. Is there anything else?
Having said that, I would probably start missing Ari after the first hour. It´s just the feeling that I can´t do anything, that I can´t just get away, phase out for a little while. That makes me feel a little, well, out of breath, from time to time.
*Now I understand those working-mothers who explain that having a job allows them to be better parents: to be more dedicated when they do spend time with their children. I used to scoff at that argument, but it´s starting to make a whole lot of sense...*
Daniel usually comes home from work at 7ish or 8ish, and only has time to help feed her supper and put her to bed. It would be ideal if we could balance that part of family-life out a little more.
And most people (friends&relatives) are too busy with lives and/or children of their own to mind our toddler. So, it´s just me and Ari....every day.
I do know I will miss it: the togetherness. Even with the arrival of Baby-zus. I´ll miss the closeness that I have with Ari. But sometimes closeness is a little overwhelming.
Whatever. This was just a rant about my irritability....about how it has really shocked me of late. And how I never thought I could be mean to Ari.
For some reason, (I am guessing a combination of hormones that are a little out of whack & just the loneliness that sometimes comes with being a full-time home-dweller) I have been irritable lately.
Snappy, moody, unpleasant. Arianna is having to live through all of this craziness. She is with me ALL the time, and she probably knows me a lot better than most by now.
She knows how fun I can be; how enthusiastic & silly I am....most of the time. Really, I am pretty upbeat: I do a lot of singing and clapping, and drama (the cheerful kind) is very much a part of my days with my daughter. For the entire first year and a half of Ari´s life I have been a cheerleader.
Well, I have gotten a little tired of cheering. I still have the world to be ecstatic about: the cutest and most amusing child, for one thing. But I´ve grown weary of being a perfect companion.
Most of the day, I want to just take a nap. And another nap. I am tired. Ari isn´t tired at all. She runs around, she greets the world with enthusiasm each morning and looks for adventure in every corner of this crowded house. I can´t keep up with her. She hands me toys & make-belief toys and relies on me for entertainment. I oblige her as much as I can: point at a picture of the moon in one of her books and say in a silly high-pitched voice, "O, kijk, de maan! Wat MOOI!" ("oh, look, the moon! How BEAUTIFUL!"). And then she wants me to read the book again, or to put the puzzle pieces in their place for the 6th time. And my voice drops. Sometimes I´m so wretched I even sigh. And she says, "Mama is moe,"("Mama is tired) with such sweet consideration and concern, and I want to cry because she is so so friendly and I can be such a lifeless cow.
(I kind of miss feeling like the funnest Mama on the planet.....)And sometimes....more regularly than I would like to admit.....I just snap. Ari´s a dear, but she is also very much in her toddler-teens. She does the wrong things ALL the time, and intentionally. She´ll give me a sideway-glance, with a very wicked little twinkle in her beautiful eyes, and then she´ll reach for the computer, or the television. Or the kitchen-cabinets.
She knows exactly what is allowed and what is not. We´ve made it pretty clear. And then she defies us by, say, taking the keys off our laptop keyboard. It´s exhausting.
I used to deal with it quite well, if I may say so myself. I´d correct her consistently and calmly, and much according to the pedagogical protocol. But lately, I´ve been so irritable. Instead of sitting on the floor with her to correct her gently, I´ve been snatching the headphones (or other "stolen" items) out of her hands, yelling "NEE, Ari! Dat mag niet!" ("No, Ari! That´s not allowed!"). And it startles her from time to time. Then I feel like the worst mother on the planet, and I apologize to her, and I explain that Mama just wants her to listen.
It is so awful to see her responses to my impatience. I don´t want to be intimidating. I want to be predictable and calm and fair. She deserves that much. I did so well for a while: really, I applaud myself for the first year and something. It was almost effortless. But now I catch myself a little too late, when Ari has already dropped whatever naughty thing she was doing, and looks at me in shock. And then I hold her and apologize for being too strict, for snapping.
Snap, snap, snap.
There´s little room for excuses here, but I do think it would help if I could get away. Just for a few hours. I would never have dreamed of saying something so selfish a year ago, but things are different now. Every other week or so, it would be kind of nice to have a few hours to myself. Refueling-time. To drop the Mama-role for just a short while, and think about things completely unrelated to my child(ren). Right now, I am not even sure I´m capable of it: of switching my brain off to that overarching part of my existence. Is there anything else?
Having said that, I would probably start missing Ari after the first hour. It´s just the feeling that I can´t do anything, that I can´t just get away, phase out for a little while. That makes me feel a little, well, out of breath, from time to time.
*Now I understand those working-mothers who explain that having a job allows them to be better parents: to be more dedicated when they do spend time with their children. I used to scoff at that argument, but it´s starting to make a whole lot of sense...*
Daniel usually comes home from work at 7ish or 8ish, and only has time to help feed her supper and put her to bed. It would be ideal if we could balance that part of family-life out a little more.
And most people (friends&relatives) are too busy with lives and/or children of their own to mind our toddler. So, it´s just me and Ari....every day.
I do know I will miss it: the togetherness. Even with the arrival of Baby-zus. I´ll miss the closeness that I have with Ari. But sometimes closeness is a little overwhelming.
Whatever. This was just a rant about my irritability....about how it has really shocked me of late. And how I never thought I could be mean to Ari.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Cold Turkey
We´ve finally done it.... we´ve gotten Ari started on Pacifier-rehab.
This has been long overdue: we had intended to take the pacifier away at 9 months or so. But, as with so many other things, convenience has been getting the final word.
(that´s where it started: 3 months old)
Until last night. Daniel and I have noticed a gap between the upper-and lower-rows of Ari´s teeth, and we said, "okay, it´s time." We knew it would be agonizing, for all of us.
The pacifier, "pacy," or "tut," has served its purpose, alongside Bunnydog and Ari´s nature-sound machine. She has been a phenomenal sleeper and I think this has been due, in part, to these "helpers". Every night, every naptime, Ari would lay down, ask for "tut" & Bunnydog, the stars (projected onto her wall by the sound-machine) and that was that. It was part of the predictability and stability that she needed to fall asleep by herself.
We never really considered the pacifier to be a particularly disturbing habit in Ari´s case.
It was always just a part of the bedtime-routine: we´ve never allowed her to walk around with it, or to have it whilst playing or anything. In fact, we´ve hardly ever used it to calm her or comfort her.
So, at least breaking this habit would just be a matter of adjusting the bedtime-routine. We don´t have to deal with pacy-requests at any other time.
Anyhow, last night was part 1. I had already told her earlier in the day (when putting her to bed for a nap) that she would not have her "tut" again at bedtime. There´s only so much a toddler can remember and understand from such a statement, but I felt the need to prepare her somehow. So, last night, at 20:00 (bedtime), Daniel and I started the bedtime-routine: we washed her hands and face, brushed her teeth, read her a story, sang some songs, and put her in her sleeping-bag. Then, we handed Bunnydog to her (upon request, as usual), and said again, "You´re a big girl now. You can fall asleep without your pacy. The tut is for baby-zus."
It seemed rather ridiculous to be trying to convince her that this was just logic: that this is how life works when you´re no longer a baby. And even sillier to say that the pacifier belonged to her unborn baby-sister. But that´s how it came out, and Ari said, "ja," as though it made all the sense in the world, and then she even smiled.
Of course, twenty seconds later, she asked for "tut" anyway, as though the whole discussion had been a mere illustration, or a scare-tactic. So the drama started. It didn´t help at all that the nature-sound & star machine was out of batteries..... I immediately headed out to our Chinese neighborhood-store to buy some. Daniel went back to put on the sounds for her and to tell her she could just look at the stars & that she could sleep without her "tut". We repeated this about 4 or 5 times. It involved a lot of tears, a lot of crying & whining & begging. Eventually, she did fall asleep and stay asleep until morning.
I fear we´ll be going through the same thing again at nap-time, and then again at night. She won´t remember anything we´ve explained about how grown-up she is (or especially about the part where she agreed so enthusiastically). She´ll want her pacy, as usual.
So it will go for a few days, I reckon. And we´ll have to stick to what we´ve started. It is so much easier to just give her the darn thing and go to sleep. But we´ve fallen for that before. And that´s what makes the months and years go by. And then you´ve got bad teeth. Oh, and a child who gets what she wants instead of what she needs. So, we´re not going to go there.
Change hurts. Even parents suffer through these phases. We might know we´re doing what´s best for our children, but it hurts.....their tears cut through us.
There we go: another dramatic account of life with a toddler. It all becomes such a huge issue: this is the stuff of my days. It may sound very silly and trivial, but these are issues that have to be thought through, planned out, and lived through. They are experiments & experiences that shape our parenting.
P.S. It has taken us nearly two years to actually do this, and we´ve used none of the tactics we considered. There was no replacement-gift: no ritualistic throwing-away of all the old pacifiers... no sewing them into a new stuffed animal. Nothing. Just a bunch of words.
This has been long overdue: we had intended to take the pacifier away at 9 months or so. But, as with so many other things, convenience has been getting the final word.
(that´s where it started: 3 months old)Until last night. Daniel and I have noticed a gap between the upper-and lower-rows of Ari´s teeth, and we said, "okay, it´s time." We knew it would be agonizing, for all of us.
The pacifier, "pacy," or "tut," has served its purpose, alongside Bunnydog and Ari´s nature-sound machine. She has been a phenomenal sleeper and I think this has been due, in part, to these "helpers". Every night, every naptime, Ari would lay down, ask for "tut" & Bunnydog, the stars (projected onto her wall by the sound-machine) and that was that. It was part of the predictability and stability that she needed to fall asleep by herself.
We never really considered the pacifier to be a particularly disturbing habit in Ari´s case.
It was always just a part of the bedtime-routine: we´ve never allowed her to walk around with it, or to have it whilst playing or anything. In fact, we´ve hardly ever used it to calm her or comfort her.
So, at least breaking this habit would just be a matter of adjusting the bedtime-routine. We don´t have to deal with pacy-requests at any other time.
Anyhow, last night was part 1. I had already told her earlier in the day (when putting her to bed for a nap) that she would not have her "tut" again at bedtime. There´s only so much a toddler can remember and understand from such a statement, but I felt the need to prepare her somehow. So, last night, at 20:00 (bedtime), Daniel and I started the bedtime-routine: we washed her hands and face, brushed her teeth, read her a story, sang some songs, and put her in her sleeping-bag. Then, we handed Bunnydog to her (upon request, as usual), and said again, "You´re a big girl now. You can fall asleep without your pacy. The tut is for baby-zus."
It seemed rather ridiculous to be trying to convince her that this was just logic: that this is how life works when you´re no longer a baby. And even sillier to say that the pacifier belonged to her unborn baby-sister. But that´s how it came out, and Ari said, "ja," as though it made all the sense in the world, and then she even smiled.
Of course, twenty seconds later, she asked for "tut" anyway, as though the whole discussion had been a mere illustration, or a scare-tactic. So the drama started. It didn´t help at all that the nature-sound & star machine was out of batteries..... I immediately headed out to our Chinese neighborhood-store to buy some. Daniel went back to put on the sounds for her and to tell her she could just look at the stars & that she could sleep without her "tut". We repeated this about 4 or 5 times. It involved a lot of tears, a lot of crying & whining & begging. Eventually, she did fall asleep and stay asleep until morning.
I fear we´ll be going through the same thing again at nap-time, and then again at night. She won´t remember anything we´ve explained about how grown-up she is (or especially about the part where she agreed so enthusiastically). She´ll want her pacy, as usual.
So it will go for a few days, I reckon. And we´ll have to stick to what we´ve started. It is so much easier to just give her the darn thing and go to sleep. But we´ve fallen for that before. And that´s what makes the months and years go by. And then you´ve got bad teeth. Oh, and a child who gets what she wants instead of what she needs. So, we´re not going to go there.
Change hurts. Even parents suffer through these phases. We might know we´re doing what´s best for our children, but it hurts.....their tears cut through us.
There we go: another dramatic account of life with a toddler. It all becomes such a huge issue: this is the stuff of my days. It may sound very silly and trivial, but these are issues that have to be thought through, planned out, and lived through. They are experiments & experiences that shape our parenting.
P.S. It has taken us nearly two years to actually do this, and we´ve used none of the tactics we considered. There was no replacement-gift: no ritualistic throwing-away of all the old pacifiers... no sewing them into a new stuffed animal. Nothing. Just a bunch of words.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Forgotten
I am losing what I´ve learned. That´s what it feels like: loss. I often pick up my old school-books, to browse through old notes, to keep my mind awake to the words I used to study, to that other world that I had started to explore.
Yesterday, I had a big volume of 20th century British and Irish poetry on my lap. I stared at it for a while, read through various pages of T.S.Eliot´s poetry, reviewed the introductions and felt.......blah. At first, I inspected every word, read through the footnotes. But then, after about half an hour of intense concentration, I realized that it was useless. I was useless. I had nothing left to say or think about the words on those pages.
"I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas"
and my notes.... ¨the climax of the poem¨ Why? What did I have to say about it? ¨Fear of castration,¨ elsewhere...but why? Where did I get that?
And that was just "The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock"-perhaps the most widely studied poem in the English language. The margins of "The Waste Land" were fuller still. More scribbles: allusions to other literature, literary terms, speculations.
Take that silly grin off your face: ´tis no lasting accomplishment!
Few things are more depressing than realizing that you´ve forgotten what you´ve learned. And the futility of trying to recover it. As a student, I was aware of my limitations: I knew that I could only try to capture a tiny corner of all of that knowledge, all those facts and the beauty and poetry of words. But now... just a few years later after celebrating some sort of a completion (however fractured!) of that learning, I have lost my grasp almost completely. It´s not just forgetting what the words mean: it´s forgetting how to figure out what they´re there for.
I am so desperate to recover the enthusiasm; to dive back into the deep, deep pool of literary studies. So, I brush the dust off the books, I take them off the shelves, and for a few short minutes I am hopeful....... fooled into thinking that there is something there that will spark my memory, that will make it all "click". And then the words become a blur and my eyes & mind start to hurt. And my heart hurts more, still. I mourn the loss of what I knew once, of what I discovered. While I studied, I knew I´d never know quite enough.
But now...even the simpler poems are riddles...and that stings. It stings, because it´s about more than discovering some of the endless rest of it; it´s about recovering some sense of the beginning.. of the top layers.
The years have dried out my brain. I had hopes of just picking up where I left off..... but now I fear I must start from scratch. And when I get somewhere, when I have gained enough of an understanding to call myself a scholar, at least, then I must find a way to hold onto it. To keep the thoughts alive, to remember what the words meant.
Yesterday, I had a big volume of 20th century British and Irish poetry on my lap. I stared at it for a while, read through various pages of T.S.Eliot´s poetry, reviewed the introductions and felt.......blah. At first, I inspected every word, read through the footnotes. But then, after about half an hour of intense concentration, I realized that it was useless. I was useless. I had nothing left to say or think about the words on those pages.
"I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas"
and my notes.... ¨the climax of the poem¨ Why? What did I have to say about it? ¨Fear of castration,¨ elsewhere...but why? Where did I get that?
And that was just "The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock"-perhaps the most widely studied poem in the English language. The margins of "The Waste Land" were fuller still. More scribbles: allusions to other literature, literary terms, speculations.
Take that silly grin off your face: ´tis no lasting accomplishment!Few things are more depressing than realizing that you´ve forgotten what you´ve learned. And the futility of trying to recover it. As a student, I was aware of my limitations: I knew that I could only try to capture a tiny corner of all of that knowledge, all those facts and the beauty and poetry of words. But now... just a few years later after celebrating some sort of a completion (however fractured!) of that learning, I have lost my grasp almost completely. It´s not just forgetting what the words mean: it´s forgetting how to figure out what they´re there for.
I am so desperate to recover the enthusiasm; to dive back into the deep, deep pool of literary studies. So, I brush the dust off the books, I take them off the shelves, and for a few short minutes I am hopeful....... fooled into thinking that there is something there that will spark my memory, that will make it all "click". And then the words become a blur and my eyes & mind start to hurt. And my heart hurts more, still. I mourn the loss of what I knew once, of what I discovered. While I studied, I knew I´d never know quite enough.
But now...even the simpler poems are riddles...and that stings. It stings, because it´s about more than discovering some of the endless rest of it; it´s about recovering some sense of the beginning.. of the top layers.
The years have dried out my brain. I had hopes of just picking up where I left off..... but now I fear I must start from scratch. And when I get somewhere, when I have gained enough of an understanding to call myself a scholar, at least, then I must find a way to hold onto it. To keep the thoughts alive, to remember what the words meant.
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