Thoughts on Parenting

So we are entering the question phase. I got my first "Why...?" today, which I loved! He asked why Daddy wasn't driving (which, I must admit, he usually does when both of us are in the car.)

We are officially at two now. I know a lot of people call two "terrible" but I don't like that. I don't want to wish them away. Yes, we have frequent tantrums, lots of "NO!!!" and a newfound stubbornness ("I NO EGGS!!!" which I think means "That omelette looks lovely mother dear, but I simply don't do eggs.") But overall, two rocks! And, so far, it's way easier than colicky newborn or clingy one-year old, although those ages have their advantages too.

Does it get any better than language? He's getting his eyeteeth right now, and was chewing on his hands. "Does your mouth hurt?" I asked. "No, I alright" is the response. Cool! I mean, that is helpful to know! And darn cute. It's also great to hear him tell me about his day: "Me, Sophie, play trains." And it's hilarious to hear him mimic the adults around him: I was fake crying this morning as part of some make-believe game I can't recall. He heard me and turned quickly to say in a very calm, reassuring kind of voice: "No cry Mummy. LM back SOON!"

Do I find myself getting frustrated at times? Yes. I find I can be sharper with him, particularly if he's whining or teary. "LM, DON'T WHINE LIKE THAT. Just ask in a normal voice!" But overall I think I'm pretty calm.

I had this insight into what my philosophy of parenting is - D and I came up with it together, but I articulated it and D was in total agreement. He was all "Tweet it! Tweet it now!" But I didn't, and so it's probably not going to come out quite the same way. But basically the way that I approach parenting is this: Adjust my expectations of his behaviour so that they're realistic given his age. But treat him with the same kind of respect I'd give an adult. In other words, I try remember that he's a toddler with zero impulse control, limited language, and extremely little control or input over his life. At times it is very frustrating to be him. But when I place demands on him, or expect certain behaviour, I am willing to negotiate, compromise, or even give in if, on reflection, it's not worth the battle, just like I am with the adults in my life. And I don't worry about spoiling him, and more than I worry about spoiling D. Anyway, it's working for me, and keeping me happy and sane; and he is, in my slightly biased opinion, thriving, so it seems to be okay for him too.

Plane Ride

I am going on a plane tomorrow - so much fun. I made the mistake of telling LM about the plane trip - "tomorrow we are going on an airplane!!!" Well, I forgot he doesn't fully grab the concept of future tense, and so he was devastated when we later pulled up at daycare. He burst into tears: "I want ride airplane!" Had to explain it was tomorrow - not sure he fully got that.

Last time we went on a plane, I did something awful. I was that woman. There was a horribly long line and I totally busted into it. Another woman called me on it. "The line starts back there..." she said. I said (oh yes I did) "Yeah, but I have a baby." And I kept on marching, feeling the burning holes in the back of my head. She probably hates all mothers now and thinks we're really that self-righteous. She probably even hates her own mother thanks to me. I could explain why I did it, why it really was important that we get through, but really, there's no excuse.

Anyway I am looking forward to my trip tomorrow!! I so need this little break.

Observations at the Park

One of the things I love about LM is how completely un-shy he is. He has always been incredibly social; even as a baby, if he woke up in a room full of people he'd look around and smile and watch and smile again; he didn't necessarily want to be part of the action - but he loved watching it from my lap. If he woke up at home with just me, he'd be grumpy for half an hour.

Today I took him to play at the park. He boldly walked up to three older children who were tossing the gravel on a little table. He picked up his shovel and started shovelling away too, digging deep into the stones and tossing them with glee. They ignored him, but undeterred, he shovelled away. Later he just marched up the slide and went up and down it again and again, a smile on his face each time, his teddy bear in his lap. Later as he dragged his poor bear across the gravel pit, he approached another older child. The child was playing with a truck and LM was interested. The child said "You're just a baby! I'm going to TAKE YOUR BEAR with my truck!" He was probably worried LM was going to take his truck and wanted to scare him off. LM just blinked, shot him a grin, and headed up the slide again with bear.

I so admire that. I am not like that at all - I can be really socially nervous. I wouldn't say I'm shy, but I would never approach a stranger. However, that social anxiety has gotten about a million times better since I had LM. Now that I know I can take care of another human being full time, I care so much less what other people think. But it's still there.

I can't take full credit for LM's social butterfly tendencies as some aspects of personality are just innate. Who knows, maybe they'll even change. But I will take some credit. I think part of the reason he's not afraid to approach that child is because he knows I'm there for him if anything goes wrong. Even if some other kid is mean, he'll always have his mama. I'm not up there in his face, but I am there in the background, ready to spring into action if he needs me (or if he starts eating dirt).

The other day D said to me, isn't it awful to think that someday someone will be mean to LM? He remembered an incident from his own childhood where a bunch of kids tormented him after swimming class. But I can't worry about the inevitable - we can't protect him from all the mean and cruel people in the world. Our role is to be that sheltering home for him to come back to when they are mean. And just like he did today at the park once he got tired of it all, I hope he knows that he can always come collapse in our arms for a little while.

Post-Baby Body

I consider myself pretty lucky with the post-childbirth body. I had no nasty tears; everything "down there" pretty much returned to normal. I'm actually about 10lb thinner post-baby, which seems to be the case with a lot of mothers who, like me, breastfeed until their child is eleventy-hundred years old. Speaking of which, saggy breastfeeding boobs? Not here! They look as good as ever, maybe better. Being an A-cup to start probably helped. (Mind you, I suppose this could change when breastfeeding stops completely.) And while my stomach isn't as flat as it once was, it's nothing to complain about. I have no shame sporting a bikini when I'm at the beach.

But every once in a while I get a reminder that pushing a baby out does have a lasting effect. Tonight it was the trampoline that did me in. Hopped up on it at a party, started bouncing, and promptly peed myself. And I didn't even have to go! Thank God I was wearing dark jeans.

Down the Hatch

Too much works = really bad blogger.

One thing I did do recently was order a couple of parenting books. I kept hearing the words "No! Stop! Don't Do That!" come out of my mouth and it was getting depressing. One of the books is the Harvey Karp book about "Happiest Toddler on the Block." The other is "Talking So Your Kids Will Listen, and Listen So Your Kids Will Talk" or something like that. I haven't had much of a chance to get past the first chapters for the reasons above, but I am getting some good info.

Both books emphasis the importance of letting your child know you understand what they want. Tell them what they are wanting - and then deny! Seems kind of cruel, doesn't it? But the weird thing is it seems to work.

Sample conversation a week ago:
Me: Time to go inside.
LM: No.
Me: Yes, it's dinner time.
LM: NO!!
Me: One more minute, then time to go eat yummy dinner!
Me: Okay, time to go. Don't you want some pasta? You love pasta?
LM: (Squeaking) NOOOOOOOO!!!!! OUSSSIDE! OUSSIDE! (Tears, flailing etc.)

New method:
Me: Time to go inside.
LM: No.
Me: Yes, it's dinner time.
LM: NO!!
Me: You want to stay outside don't you? You love playing outside? You'd really like to be outside all night wouldn't you?
LM: Yeah!
Me: I know you love to play outside but we have to go in for dinner. Do you want some dinner?
LM: ... (Comes inside without too much protest)

I have no idea why it works, but it does! Who knew a 21 month old craved validation? I will admit, it feels kinda dorky at times. ("You love the bubble bath don't you? You love pouring Mummy's $30 bubble bath straight into the sink? Isn't it fun to see all those bubbles go down the drain? But baby, there's no Sephora in this 'hood, so we've got to save that stuff!") But I've defused a dozen tantrums, at least.

One of the Karp methods failed though - he suggests growling and clapping to get a child to stop doing something as opposed to yelling "NO!" which never seems to work. He claims it is extremely effective. But the growl didn't work for me - just made LM laugh devilishly and keep on shovelling rocks in his mouth. I'm pretty sure at least one of them went straight down the hatch too. I've been watching for its exit.

Seeing It For the FIrst Time

Ah, lazy, lazy summer. I am loving these long warm days on the weekend. Always get a bit anxious on Sunday night about another 5 long days away from my delightful little boy. He is so sweet and fun these days.

Today he fell down and he said "Fell - bumbum!" and it was so cute because I have never heard him say bumbum before, and seriously, is there anything cuter than that word? I know I'm being nauseating, but really?

Right now he's babbling away in the bath with an intermitten "Uppa mummy" every now and then before he remembers that "uppa" is one step closer to bedtime. He's sucking on a rubber duck; that's bad right? I think I read a headline the other day that they are full of toxic poisons. Hmmm... he must have heard it too because he just threw it out of the bath.

He loves bike rides and trucks, especially "beeeeg trucks!" We went on the bus the other day and he was thrilled. We went on a boat today and his eyes were like saucers. That whole thing about seeing the world through your child's eyes? It really is pretty amazing. A bus ride become amazing. The first summer strawberry is a photo op. And bathtime, even though it's nightly, still brings joy. Man, I really love this job.

Gotta get off the computer and go play with the rubber duck.

Busy Times

Man, sometimes I really wonder how people do this... work plus parent. It's a tough juggle. And I'm starting to realise that when you have a high pressure job and commitment to family, the thing you sacrifice is sleep. At 12:15 on Friday I got an urgent e-mail from an associate and a call from a partner. I had a bunch of tasks to do - drafting interview questions for a discovery, reviewing land title registry requirements in another province, trying to find a work-around for a client who just realised he can't legally do something. I had a welcome lunch that day too, so after figuring out what they wanted me to do, I rushed out for lunch... couldn't quite enjoy it as I was watching the clock the whole time. By the time I got back from lunch there was a message from the partner asking if I'd done what she asked (Um, no) so I did that as quickly as I could. Then I spent a few hours on the research task and came up with virtually nothing. I still managed to squeeze out the door to pick up LM from daycare with the promise that I'd check my e-mail later and do some research for first thing Saturday.

On the way to pick up LM (at the last possible moment) the wires on the bus got derailed so I was stuck in traffic for 15 minutes in the middle of an intersection. I was only five blocks away but the driver refused to let anyone off the bus. I guess when the rails come off they automatically shut off any heating and ventilation too because the temperature immediately soared to about 40 degrees celsius. Naturally, my cell phone was dead too since LM peed on it a while ago when I let him play with it and the battery life hasn't been quite the same since. I show up at the playground sweating and frazzled but at least LM is happy to see me. "No poops again!" says the daycare provider with a concerned look. I assure her that he pooped before daycare, so we're all clear there.

Get him home, nurse, feed, play, bath, empty bath and remove poop, run bath again, watch LM get frustrated with his shaper sorter because he can't get the piece in (man, that kid takes after me sometimes) bedtime. Then I log in to my e-mail and find three urgent e-mails from the associate. Mercifully the last one tells me not to bother doing any more research on the task until Monday. I planned to do all my other undone work on Friday so I could enjoy the weekend, but I was way too exhausted and collapsed into bed at 10, only to find I couldn't sleep.

I wonder if I'll ever have an hour to watch TV in the evenings again?

The World is A Little Sweeter

LM was grumpy all day, whining and wanting to be held and generally miserable. Finally around 5:30 I took his temperature and found he had a fever of over 101 under his arm - and that was with my crappy thermometer that always seems to register lower than my basal one. I felt like such a moron - here I was dragging him out and around, pushing him in the swing at the park and trying to interest him in random passing dogs. Poor kid was probably thinking "Just take me home woman! Can't you feel I'm BURNING UP?" I am just not much of a worrier when it comes to illness so it never occurred to me that it might be something more than just teething. Of course by then the doctor's office was closed and I realised he'd probably had the fever for quite a while given how crappy he was acting all day. I called the Nurse Hotline in tears and spoke to a very sweet RN.

"Is it his first time being sick?" she asked.

"His first fever," I said.

"Well, he'll have plenty more," she said with a smile in her voice.

That was my second crying jag of the day. The first was when I was driving in the car and White Coat, Black Art was on. They were interviewing a doctor who specialises in counselling dying children. One of the things he does is help them come up with assignments for their families to remember them, because often these children are afraid they'll be forgotten. So it reassures the child to task the family with some sort of commemorative ritual, like asking them to eat the child's favourite meal every year on his or her birthday. I liked that idea.

The doctor being interviewed also said that dying children never ask "why me?" at least not in their discussions with him. Instead they worry about their parents: "Will mummy be okay?" When I heard that that, I started sobbing. Tears were rolling down my face. I had to pause and regain my breath after stopping the car.

I feel like motherhood has given me so much more empathy than I used to have. You'd think I'd have already had that sort of empathy towards the sick - having had one parent die slowly from cancer, and having another battle it off twice. I've seen a lot of death. But I don't think that story would have made me cry 10 months ago. Somehow since I've had a child the whole human race just seems a little more vulnerable and likable, and well... human.

With that, I'm off to cuddle my sweet, clammy boy.

Why You Shouldn't Have a Child to Strengthen Your Relationship

I have all these half-started posts in my head, and some in Blogger, but I'm just sort of at a loss these days. I could come in and write a bunch of random stuff, but that seems sort of boring.

One of the things that has occurred to me recently is how hard having a kid is on your marriage. People told me this before, and I always thought - sure, for you guys, but not for us. But eight months in, I have to say, it is really, really tough.

For one thing, when you have a child there's this third person inserted in your relationship. And you love that third person so very, very much. It's not that I love him more than D - it's a totally different kind of love. But right now, at this stage of LM's development, he is just so dependent on me, so his needs come first a lot of the time. Not always, but a lot of the time. And he just needs me so much. And I love being needed like that, but sometimes after spending a whole day taking care of someone else, I do not have a lot left in me for anyone else.

I have been increasingly snappy and short with D. I'm often frustrated when the dishes aren't done, the baby isn't fed at the right time, the clothes are on the floor again. So I am resolving to stop doing this - to be nicer and more patient. But I also do think some of my complaints are valid and that I do need a little more help around the house, so I also need to think of nicer ways to ask D to help. Even when I ask in a nice or patient tone, I feel like I'm constantly nagging. Don't you wish there was a way so that you didn't have to ask? But the reality is, you do have to ask, because he's not always home to notice the cobwebs in the hall or to observe LM is now napping twice a day and not three times.

We had a long talk about all of this today, and that was great. One strength we've always had is communication. (And no, D doesn't read this, although he knows about it, so I am not using it as a passive-aggressive tool to communicate with him.)

Anyway, I'm not sure how eloquent this all is, but I consider myself so lucky to have a husband who does so much, who is a great father, who adores me and his child. We are each other's best friend. And we have a child who has gone from being a fussy, colicky little guy to being the sweetest most happy little boy who is so much fun. But still, it's hard! I hate admitting that - I hate admitting that it's a challenge; it doesn't seem right that something so joyful should be. But it is, for the most mundane reasons.

A Full-Time Job

Been thinking more about my training dilemma and what to do with Little Man. You know what I hate? I hate that I always have to be the one to figure out what we do with him. I can go on the training, but I have to arrange childcare, or ask D if he'll take the time off.

When we got pregnant, although we were thrilled, it was unexpected timing and my life plan had to shift around quite a bit. No one asked me whether I wanted to sacrifice my clerkship - it was assumed that if someone stayed home for the year of EI, that it would be me. No one asked me if I wanted to put on 40 pounds, or feel sick for four months, or deal with a borderline colicky baby for 12 hours a day while D worked hellish hours in the first four months. But I did. And yes he did agree to be home early two nights a week, but that was still a lot of long lonely nights at home in our tiny apartment with my laptop after LM fell asleep. So why should I feel bad asking D to take the time off now?

My career is just as important as his is. All year D has said that when I go back to work, he is going to go down to four days a week, at least temporarily. But that changed when I reminded him that next year, someone would have to be home at 6 each night to get LM from daycare or nanny, and it won't always be me. His first instinct was to suggest an au pair, so that we can have the flexibility to work late. "D," I said, "we didn't have a child so that he can spend 12 hours a day in the care of someone else - I think we need to commit to the idea that at least one of us will be home by 6 almost every night." Once I said it, he agreed, but it bugs me that I even had to say it. And the end result is that since he can't work the insane hours during the week, he feels he has no right to ask for the reduced workweek he had planned to negotiate.

He called me today to let me know he'd phoned around about some nanny services for August; it was meant to be a thoughtful gesture, but I must admit it grated on me. I hate that while I'm doing the training, I'm still going to be responsible for managing LM the whole week on my own - making sure the nanny isn't crazy, rushing back after the training and so on.

Don't get me wrong, D is an amazing and involved father. He changes almost all the diapers on the weekend. When LM cries at night, D leaps up to get him. He plays with him, gives him baths, feeds him, gets up with him in the morning on weekends to let me sleep, and does at least 50% of the childcare when he's around. And as for work, he makes nearly three times what I will in my articling year (articling students in my city do not make much) and he manages our finances, so he puts a lot of pressure on himself at work as well.

But I think there are going to be real challenges as I get back into the work force. It's going to be really hard for both of us to shift mentality - I won't be the default daycare anymore. And I admit that sometimes I feel like Dads only have to be Dads when they're not doing the 9 to 5 (or 7 to 7 as the case may be.) Motherhood is a 24-hour a day profession.

If Mothers Ruled the World

In the past couple of weeks LM has become such a happy baby. Instead of the default state being sort of fussy and cranky with a few happy stretches here and there, he's now such a smiley, happy guy most of the time and only gets truly upset when he's tired or frustrated.

I get these moments, watching him look at a picture, or smile lovingly at me from across the room and my whole heart just swells at the pure innocence. I can't help but think, I hope the world isn't too hard on you. I wish I could protect him from all the bad things, the skinned knees, the broken hearts, the temptation of driving after some drunken night, the gun-wielding strangers, the wars in far off places. I guess it's a good thing I can't shelter him from everything, because if I could, I probably would. But we all need some tough times to make us better and more interesting people. I still wish I could shelter him from some things though.

Realisation

It's funny, when I see the girls I've known since high school, I don't really feel like we're getting any older. When I think back to our high school days, I picture us looking the same way we do now. I know intellectually that it's not true, and I certainly know that when I look at a picture of us 15 years ago. But in a lot of ways, I don't feel any older than I was back then. It's strange to think I am now so much older than my older brother was back then, because I think I'd still be kind of cowed by the person he was then.

Today I was browsing someone's online photo album and I came across a picture of a mutual acquaintance, someone who I haven't seen since those olden, golden days. This acquaintance has two kids now, one of whom is probably similar in age to LM. (I still remember her getting all pissy with me because the guy she liked gave me a massage on the beach. He was a cutie too!) She looks so much older than I would have thought. She's still very attractive, and bright-eyed, but she looks like a mom. And then I remind myself, shit, I probably do too! How can that be? I still feel like such a child.