Inadvertent

I don’t know why it is that I always have stories about the commissary.  Although I did have a staff person ask me if I was there every day (Um, you think I would come here for fun?!).  I suppose other people go to the commissary without incident, but then again they must have really boring blogs. 

Today started as a good trip, even though it started pouring rain just as I was about the put the dutchkid in the car. That’s ok, we don’t mind getting wet.  It made for fewer crowds. We cruised through in less than 45 minutes. As a treat for being so cooperative (if a bit loud – she had been serenading passersby), I let her pick out some animal crackers in the cute red box.

When we loaded into the car to head home, I realized that I forgot to save them out and they were in the trunk with the rest of the groceries. So after I buckled the dutchkid in, I told her I would go look. “Oh no, Mama, they’re right here!” she says proudly, opening up the little play purse she had with her. Sure enough, there they are.

My girl, a thief at 3. 

I even talk to her frequently about how we always pay the nice lady before we open or eat anything from a store!  I was so tempted, standing there in the rain, to just get in the car and take her and the stolen goods home.  But I couldn’t do it.  After the whole fiasco with the birthday cake!?  I’m lucky they even let me IN the commissary. We went back inside.  Paid for the crackers, all $1.10 of them.  She must take after her daddy.

Proud

It’s been difficult in the parenting jungle lately. Lots of tantruming, demands and general cantankerous three-year-old behavior. To include several counts of public parent humiliation.

But today was the dutchkid’s first dance recital. It was much to be expected, lots of dazed looks by the young ones decked out in tights, tutus and feather boas. Very little actual “dancing”.

Except for my girl! I might be *slightly* biased, but even dh said after he watched the video how amazed he was that she followed the music (and the teacher’s direction). Sadly, he couldn’t be there because the recital was held in the morning.

I only put her in dance in the first place because it was offered as part of her school day, but on the drive home I found myself pondering if I should seriously look into dance classes after we move. It’s amazing how quickly thoughts of a brilliant future in ballet pop into your head.

Feel free to shoot me if I ever become one of those stage mothers, but it was amazing to see her up there on the stage. I thought I was going to cry. This parenting gig does have its perks.

Decisions, decisions

I wrote last year about my mommy guilt over putting the dutchkid into a preschool two mornings a week this year, which by the way, has turned out to be a great experience. She has thrived in the social environment and really enjoys it. When I chose that particular preschool, it was in part because I heard good things from other parents, but also because it is faith based. I am the product of a Christian education and so almost by default that was always the route I had planned to go.

Over the past few years, however, I have been exposed to and read about the many different schooling options out there. Things that I just never considered before. In my attempts to figure it all out, this past year I read a really interesting book called The Power of Play by David Elkind (the author of The Hurried Child). He talks about how children today are so pushed scholastically from such a young age that they lose the valuable skills provided by self-directed spontaneous play. I felt fortunate that I had chosen a play-based preschool for the dutchkid.

But now I have to choose all over again! We are moving to a much larger community and the options are overwhelming. And ironically now that I’ve educated myself by reading all sorts of books, I feel like it’s such an important decision and I’m worried I’m going to screw it up. My dh likes to remind me that she is only 3, but we will likely be at this duty station until she is through kindergarten. And the all important “they” say that these early years are so important! Not even to mention waiting lists and all the rest.

Right now I’m seriously considering Montessori, an option we didn’t have where we are now. They have multi-age classes with children from ages 3 to 6. So we’d ideally need to decide now if we’re going to try that out this fall. And then there’s the cost of it all, which is about enough to drive my dh to drink. If she weren’t an only child, I think I would keep her at home through kindergarten, the more I learn about homeschooling the more appealing it looks sometimes. I just worry about finding enough social interaction for her, not relying too much on the television and still keeping my sanity. And of course there are zillions of other options as far as religious based education, traditional public education…. Sometimes it feels like parenting is one of those choose-your-own-ending books: “To go down the dark tunnel, turn to page 25. To go into the forest, turn to page 30.”

Which page do I turn to for a happy, well-adjusted, productive member of society?

I used to be tough

As a RN, I used to watch and participate in things that made others faint, or freak out. I was known for staying calm in a crisis. I used to poke and prod tiny babies in efforts to help them survive, learn to eat and thrive.

But now? Now I am completely derailed by minor procedures. I dissolve into a puddle of tears and it takes every bit of my willpower to not completely fall apart. Last night the dutchkid fell while at the babysitter’s and required stitches on her chin. I was fine with the blood, I knew she needed stitches and was fine with that initially. I was fine all through the hours in the ER, right up until the dutchkid started to freak out about being held down and they started talking about conscious sedation. Then I was most definitely NOT fine.

Watching her slip under the anesthesia was almost more than I could handle. I still can’t quite put into words why it bothered me so much. Maybe it was because I was so terrified that something was going to happen and I was never going to get her back.

It is a feeling I never want to experience again, and I don’t know how parents with chronically ill children handle it. It makes me feel terrible for any time I ever thought badly of how a parent acted under stress. It makes me wonder if I will ever be able to go back and do that job again. We finally got home at about 4am and I cried my eyes out while she slept off the rest of the medication.

The dutchkid was right as rain today, and is the proud new owner of three stitches. Yes you read that right, all that for three whole stitches. I am officially a parenting pansy.

3 steps forward, 2 steps back.

I think that we have finally turned the corner on the potty learning.  I’m blogging this somewhat reluctantly, in case I jinx myself,  but I decided to write about it just in case somebody finds my blog and has a kid like mine.   It always makes me feel better to read that someone else didn’t have the potty prodigy who trained early and easily. 

I did not think this would be as much of a challenge as it has been… which goes to show you that I have much to learn about being a parent.  You would think after 2.75 years I would know better.   No one warned me how potty learning can be a long process, although after I started to complain a bit then I began hearing other parents say that they had a child who monkeyed around as well. 

Kids always seem to be out to prove they are one of a kind.  The dutchkid is no exception.  She was pooping on the potty shortly after she turned a year old and I thought we were well on our way to getting rid of diapers early.  Everyone I talked to said that peeing in the potty was the easy part.  Not my kid.  Only in the past few months has she had the awareness of her body during play and other distractions to say, “I need to go”.  Otherwise we would fall into a routine of me trying to cajole her into using the potty at regular intervals, which she immediately picked up on as something I could not make her do.  Try as you might, you can’t make somebody urinate on cue.  Even when you try bribery. 

I know I am fortunate that I haven’t changed very many poopy diapers in the past year, but wet pants, wet panties, wet car seat, and random wet furniture get OLD after a while.  I’ve been thankful that we have wood floors in this house (and laminate in our last one).  More importantly, I hated the power struggle that it had become.  So after we moved here I really laid off.  I figured that the transition of moving would throw her for a loop anyway (which it did). 

And finally, finally she started staying dry.  And going willingly when I asked without pressuring.  And then her teachers at preschool said they thought she was ready to wear panties to school (yay!).  I’m sure we will have several more accidents before she is super reliable, but I feel like the worst is over. 

So take heart, parents of reluctant pee-ers.  I am here to remind you that everybody uses the potty like a big girl (or boy) eventually.

Mommy guilt

I love being a parent. Most of the time, I think I’m actually a pretty good one. But just when I’ve convinced myself that I’m ok at this job, I read or hear something that I’m doing (or not doing) is detrimental to my child’s health and future. It just triggers this wave of self doubt. I know that my particular blend of neuroses contributes to my shaky self confidence, and since the dutchkid may be the only child we will ever be able to have, it seems all the more important to “do it right”.

Lately I’ve been obsessing over the preschool debate. I am thinking about sending her for 2 mornings a week to a preschool program next fall. I use a Parent’s Morning Out program here very occasionally, because I don’t have the luxury of family in the area, and it’s helpful for appointments. Once your child is over 2, most places that offer PMO have 2 year old “classes”. Many of them are 3 or even 5 days a week, the one I’m considering I chose not only because of it’s good reviews but also because she could go just 2 days instead.

I think it just might be good for us both. The problem is that old mommy guilt kicks in. While I’m getting pressure from some (my MIL, people in my playgroup) that she needs the socialization, others are of the mindset that it’s completely unnecessary and in not so many words, is just maternal laziness. Maybe it is. Hello, guilt. Sometimes I get tired of being the playmate, and she just isn’t that great at entertaining herself. I let her watch too much TV as a result. Having 2 mornings a week would allow me to do some things for me (like studying the piano again). Selfish? Maybe so. I love my daughter so much it frightens me sometimes. I wish I could say that sacrificing myself for my child’s absolute well being is my life goal. But if being a mother has taught me anything, it’s that being a martyr about it doesn’t make me a better parent, it makes me resentful. I just wish finding the balance of focus between her and myself wasn’t so hard.

2 years ago…

I couldn’t sleep because I knew that I was getting up in the wee hours to go to the hospital.

I was so scared, and so nervous, but I was so ready to meet you.

Your daddy picked out a favorite shirt to wear. “Should I dress up?” he asked.

Tomorrow will be about cupcakes and balloons and opening presents. Your second birthday, but your first birthday with your daddy home. I don’t even remember looking back last year, maybe that’s why I’m sitting here doing it tonight instead of sleeping.

Someday, when you grow up, people will say to you: “Your life will never be the same after you have kids”. You will wonder to yourself if that is true. It is. But don’t let that scare you. Although I have never slept less and worried more, even when you are cantankerous, stubborn as only your (almost) 2 year old self can be, my whole world lights up when you laugh.

I am thankful for every day that I get to be your mama. I love you, baby girl.

Worthless

Several of my piano students are homeschooled. As a favor to one family of 3 students, I agreed to go to their house to teach yesterday, instead of them coming to mine.

As I finished one lesson and was waiting for the next child to come to the piano I heard this exchange:

Mom: “Your father and I have decided that you are worthless.”

Boy: “But Mother…”

Mom: “No, xxxx, you are worthless! Look at this house and the yard…”

At this point they traveled out of earshot. I was astonished. The boy is 12 years old. I have no doubt the mother was frustrated. Thinking about it now, I’m unsure if it was for my benefit, or if she always talks to her kids like this. I know this mother a little bit, and she is very blunt. It makes me wonder what she says when no one is present. I don’t have a pre-teen, so I can’t imagine what daily life with one looks like. I hate it when people judge me and granted, I am no paragon of parenthood. It just made me sad. I happen to have a dad who often said mean things in anger. Even if you know the words aren’t true, it doesn’t mean they don’t hurt. I hope I never tell my daughter either in words or actions that she is “worthless”.

Judgment

I get along reasonably well with my in-laws. I even like my mother-in-law for the most part. Our relationship before I had the dutchkid was wonderful, afterwards… well, let’s just say we have very different parenting philosophies. While we were in Florida, we stayed with dh’s aunt, along with his mom and a bunch of other relatives. We were all in very cramped quarters. Several of my nieces and a nephew were there, all young children. We were the ones unlucky enough to arrive last and as such, we did not have our own room. We got to sleep on inflatable mattresses in the living room. Nothing like having a strong-willed toddler out of her routine, combined with not being able to close the door to put your parenting skills on display.

As it turns out I parent very differently from everyone. I’m sure my own insecurities had a lot to do with my feelings, but I spent the entire time just feeling very judged on everything from what I feed her to how she goes to sleep. I received several not so subtle hints about how I should do lots of things, ranging from “let her cry herself to sleep”, to spanking her, to taking away her pacifier. I’m sure they were scandalized to know that at almost age 2 she still breastfeeds on occasion.

I don’t ascribe to any one parenting method, but I definitely tend more towards Dr. Sears than Dr. Ezzo. I am comfortable with how and why I handle things, but it gets tiresome being on the defensive all the time. I am proud to say I have mastered the smile and nod while doing what I think is the best. But it still rankles to hear people praise my sisters-in-law and their children while I get the “you really should…”

It would be nice if when you became a parent you automatically grew the thick skin required, or maybe the hospital should just issue earplugs. And next time? I’m staying in a hotel.