Well, today was my last performance as Helping Parent at J's preschool. I think I was more emotional about it in advance...I didn't think twice about the finality as we left the building. I may have even forgotten about it at that point. In any event.
Now that I have had a few hours to look back (wow, I know - HOURS - now there's some perspective), I realize that today's experience reinforced the feeling I have had for weeks, and that is that J is completely and utterly ready for kindergarten. You wouldn't think that revelation would be so monumental, but it was. Much of the underlying stress of every day for me over the last year has been the concern that she will completely fall apart for one reason or another when she goes off to school full-time. Am I still worried about the long hours, bus rides, and the fact that I am no longer The One To Guide Her In All Things? Absolutely. But as so often happens, she has shown me that she is ready for the next developmental step before I was ready.
Mostly I see that she is ready because she is bristling over her world as it is. Yes, that sounds a lot like the way many women feel at certain times of the month. But seriously. She HATES the outfits I pick out for her and the choices I give her for drink with dinner. She wants to ride K's scooter without her helmet and pads. She insists on trying foods she hasn't liked in the past to make sure she hasn't begun to like them (can you believe that?!). She wants to pour her own milk, and does not want me to cut up her spaghetti, thank you very much. She rearranges the furniture in her room (well the chairs anyway) and the stuff on her bathroom vanity with an eye for design. "Mommy! Doesn't this look much prettier?" I swear, next week she'll be asking to practice driving a car.
She can smell independence coming, and it smells better than COFFEE ICE CREAM.
This is a nice item to add to my list-of-things-to-be-thankful-for tonight at bedtime.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
My new favorite dressing
Caper-Tarragon Vinaigrette
3 TBSP red wine vinegar
1 TBSP Dijon mustard
1 tsp minced garlic
6 TBSP extra virgin olive oil
1 TBSP chopped fresh tarragon
1 TBSP drained bottled capers
S&P
Whisk together vinegar, mustard, garlic, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/8 tsp pepper. Gradually whisk in oil in slow stream til emulsified, then whisk in tarragon and capers. Season to taste w/S&P.
3 TBSP red wine vinegar
1 TBSP Dijon mustard
1 tsp minced garlic
6 TBSP extra virgin olive oil
1 TBSP chopped fresh tarragon
1 TBSP drained bottled capers
S&P
Whisk together vinegar, mustard, garlic, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/8 tsp pepper. Gradually whisk in oil in slow stream til emulsified, then whisk in tarragon and capers. Season to taste w/S&P.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
I wish I had someone to high-5
My journey as a mother has been challenging. What's that? You too? I would wager that you, the average non-me mother, has challenges that are based on understanding developmental stages, learning to let go as your child matures and needs you less and less, and the fact that you no longer are the center of your own universe.
Me? My challenge is that having a child made me realize that I am completely, hopelessly inflexible. The term black-and-white doesn't begin to describe my personality. Monuments - to paraphrase a line from House - could be built to honor my rigidity. Oh, and I can no longer sugar-coat this flaw as charming. Am I belief-driven and principled? Try judgmental. Am I sure of myself? More like arrogant. When given the opportunity to talk about child-rearing, or to make decision about my kids, I am RIGHT. You make think you feel that way too, but let me correct you. I am way more right than you are.
The problem comes in when I realize that a step taken or decision made is actually bad for one of the girls. 'No snacks in between meals' is an easy rule because my girls won't eat a good meal if they snack, and it's hard enough to get them to eat what I put in front of them at mealtime. Should they eat a little less a little more often? Probably, but I do not sweat this one.
Now, on the other hand, my penchant for using negative reinforcement has recently become an Issue. J and I seem to have gotten in a pattern of attention-getting bad behavior on her part, followed by angry eruption and punishment dissemination on mine. A stage? Perhaps. But it has been going on for months, and has escalated from a once-a-week event into a multiple-times-daily one.
I have tried a few changes in my own behavior to tone down the fire on my side of the equation (thanks in no small part to some very loving and well-timed feedback from JBL), and I will dissect their efficacy for our collective benefit once they've had time to play out a bit. In the meantime, I have had one notable success that seems to have stuck. It's something I like to call The Brave Hat.
J has developed a substantial list of things that frighten her over the past few months, and I understand this is quite normal for her age. I have had little trouble assuaging most of these random fears. Take the stuffed animal unicorn with the strangely life-like eyes out of your room at bedtime? Absolutely, no problem. Prior to our recent trip via airplane to Atlanta, discuss why planes don't melt as they get high in the sky/closer to the sun (thanks for nothing, Eric Carle)? I'm happy to talk about it until you're well at ease.
I am challenged, however, when her reactions seems wholly disproportionate to the potential danger presented. This past weekend, J suddenly developed an irrational fear of bees. This is quite unlike her, and at first I mistook her reaction as a red herring for something else, like wanting K to be with her at all times. "I won't go outside because of the BEEEEEEEEES!" she cried after I suggested a bike ride might be in order. "I can't because of the BEEEEEEES!" she lamented when I asked her to pick up her toys by the garage. In my usual loving fashion, I encouraged her with, "Look. Just GO PICK UP YOUR TOYS. I have asked you 3 times. I won't ask again. NOW." I was rewarded with J dissolving into a puddle of sobs before she attached herself to my legs with her fingernails. Hmmm, I thought. Maybe she's not bluffing.
I took a deep breath, detached her from my person, and held her til the sobbing subsided. Then I calmly explained to J about why bees sting, and how they are really afraid of her because she is so much bigger than they are. There. Logic trumps fear! Right? Can I go back to my magazine on the patio sofa? WRONG. I begin to walk her around the house, holding her hand and talking softly. A carpenter bee swerves drunkenly up to her before heading off to the deck now behind us, and J literally jumps 2 feet in the air, letting out a shriek of fear, the likes of which I have never heard before. All distractions fall away from my mind and I feel the Mother Instinct kick in for once. After another minute of hugging the sobs away, I offer, "You don't need to be afraid once you put on your Brave Hat."
"What?"
"Your Brave Hat. When you put it on it makes you feel brave. Really! Here. Look at mine." I mime putting on a winter-type cap. "Mine is pink and fuzzy and has big ears on it. Ahhh," I conclude with a calm and brave-appearing sigh. "What does yours have on it?"
Tick...tick...tick...
J pulls on her own pretend cap. "Mine has big googly eyes on springs!"
[insert thankful sigh here]
"See now, you can be brave! I knew you could do it!" I grabbed her hand and led her, still somewhat hesitant, over to the garage to clean up the toys from earlier in the day. She jumped a bit as a fly whizzed nearby, but she actually paused, took a deep breath, and adjusted that damn pretend hat.
Later when Sadie stopped by to play, J offered, "You don't have to be afraid. You can just put on your Brave Hat!" I watched them scamper off, and basically had to hold back tears of gratitude for all the moms I know who inspired such an idea with their own demonstrations of patience, kindness and understanding. I don't know if I can continue to think outside my own box of precision and structure, but I will sure try. Maybe there's a hat for flexibility. Let me know if you've seen one...
Me? My challenge is that having a child made me realize that I am completely, hopelessly inflexible. The term black-and-white doesn't begin to describe my personality. Monuments - to paraphrase a line from House - could be built to honor my rigidity. Oh, and I can no longer sugar-coat this flaw as charming. Am I belief-driven and principled? Try judgmental. Am I sure of myself? More like arrogant. When given the opportunity to talk about child-rearing, or to make decision about my kids, I am RIGHT. You make think you feel that way too, but let me correct you. I am way more right than you are.
The problem comes in when I realize that a step taken or decision made is actually bad for one of the girls. 'No snacks in between meals' is an easy rule because my girls won't eat a good meal if they snack, and it's hard enough to get them to eat what I put in front of them at mealtime. Should they eat a little less a little more often? Probably, but I do not sweat this one.
Now, on the other hand, my penchant for using negative reinforcement has recently become an Issue. J and I seem to have gotten in a pattern of attention-getting bad behavior on her part, followed by angry eruption and punishment dissemination on mine. A stage? Perhaps. But it has been going on for months, and has escalated from a once-a-week event into a multiple-times-daily one.
I have tried a few changes in my own behavior to tone down the fire on my side of the equation (thanks in no small part to some very loving and well-timed feedback from JBL), and I will dissect their efficacy for our collective benefit once they've had time to play out a bit. In the meantime, I have had one notable success that seems to have stuck. It's something I like to call The Brave Hat.
J has developed a substantial list of things that frighten her over the past few months, and I understand this is quite normal for her age. I have had little trouble assuaging most of these random fears. Take the stuffed animal unicorn with the strangely life-like eyes out of your room at bedtime? Absolutely, no problem. Prior to our recent trip via airplane to Atlanta, discuss why planes don't melt as they get high in the sky/closer to the sun (thanks for nothing, Eric Carle)? I'm happy to talk about it until you're well at ease.
I am challenged, however, when her reactions seems wholly disproportionate to the potential danger presented. This past weekend, J suddenly developed an irrational fear of bees. This is quite unlike her, and at first I mistook her reaction as a red herring for something else, like wanting K to be with her at all times. "I won't go outside because of the BEEEEEEEEES!" she cried after I suggested a bike ride might be in order. "I can't because of the BEEEEEEES!" she lamented when I asked her to pick up her toys by the garage. In my usual loving fashion, I encouraged her with, "Look. Just GO PICK UP YOUR TOYS. I have asked you 3 times. I won't ask again. NOW." I was rewarded with J dissolving into a puddle of sobs before she attached herself to my legs with her fingernails. Hmmm, I thought. Maybe she's not bluffing.
I took a deep breath, detached her from my person, and held her til the sobbing subsided. Then I calmly explained to J about why bees sting, and how they are really afraid of her because she is so much bigger than they are. There. Logic trumps fear! Right? Can I go back to my magazine on the patio sofa? WRONG. I begin to walk her around the house, holding her hand and talking softly. A carpenter bee swerves drunkenly up to her before heading off to the deck now behind us, and J literally jumps 2 feet in the air, letting out a shriek of fear, the likes of which I have never heard before. All distractions fall away from my mind and I feel the Mother Instinct kick in for once. After another minute of hugging the sobs away, I offer, "You don't need to be afraid once you put on your Brave Hat."
"What?"
"Your Brave Hat. When you put it on it makes you feel brave. Really! Here. Look at mine." I mime putting on a winter-type cap. "Mine is pink and fuzzy and has big ears on it. Ahhh," I conclude with a calm and brave-appearing sigh. "What does yours have on it?"
Tick...tick...tick...
J pulls on her own pretend cap. "Mine has big googly eyes on springs!"
[insert thankful sigh here]
"See now, you can be brave! I knew you could do it!" I grabbed her hand and led her, still somewhat hesitant, over to the garage to clean up the toys from earlier in the day. She jumped a bit as a fly whizzed nearby, but she actually paused, took a deep breath, and adjusted that damn pretend hat.
Later when Sadie stopped by to play, J offered, "You don't have to be afraid. You can just put on your Brave Hat!" I watched them scamper off, and basically had to hold back tears of gratitude for all the moms I know who inspired such an idea with their own demonstrations of patience, kindness and understanding. I don't know if I can continue to think outside my own box of precision and structure, but I will sure try. Maybe there's a hat for flexibility. Let me know if you've seen one...
Monday, April 20, 2009
Guilty
I realized recently that I am guilty of something. Well, I mean, I'm guilty of many things, but this one is new. I have found of late that I will ask The Mister something, whether about his day at work or about some project around the house, and then will let my mind wander while he's answering. I'll be staring him in the face as he speaks, thinking about what to make for dinner, or about an email I need to send for work. I feel horrible about this recent habit, although on some level it is kind of funny - like I have been forced to multi-task as a mother for so long, I am actually incapable of doing one thing at a time anymore.
I mentioned this to a friend the other day, and her eyes lit up. "I do that too!" We were both immensely relieved, and tried to further make ourselves feel better by blaming it on our husbands. You know, because we don't really understand the details of what they do in the first place. Heheheh...wait. That makes me sound even worse, doesn't it? Curses!
I have vowed to correct this disrespectful habit, and have been improving. Maybe I'll benefit overall by practicing my linear skills more often. Here's hoping.
What was I saying? I just stared out the window, saw the rain, thought about how I've left a towel outside from the weekend, and then remembered to tell J that she needs to put her toys away in the basement. This might be harder than I thought....
I mentioned this to a friend the other day, and her eyes lit up. "I do that too!" We were both immensely relieved, and tried to further make ourselves feel better by blaming it on our husbands. You know, because we don't really understand the details of what they do in the first place. Heheheh...wait. That makes me sound even worse, doesn't it? Curses!
I have vowed to correct this disrespectful habit, and have been improving. Maybe I'll benefit overall by practicing my linear skills more often. Here's hoping.
What was I saying? I just stared out the window, saw the rain, thought about how I've left a towel outside from the weekend, and then remembered to tell J that she needs to put her toys away in the basement. This might be harder than I thought....
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Hints of joy
In this season of renewal, I have found my own source of hope. I'm sure it will be no surprise to hear. Her name is Juliet Rose.
Last night at dinner, for no reason:
(J) "Momma! My axles are bubbling!"
This morning while I'm futzing at the sink while J eats behind me at the counter:
(me) "[muttering to myself, then] Do you think I'm crazy?"
(J) [silence]
I turn around with an inquiring look.
(J) "Didn't you hear me nodding?"
Yesterday I raised my hand to silence her as she told me for the ten-THOUSANDTH time that she did not need a nap.
(J) "Do NOT do that to your DAUGHTER!"
Just now, acting as doctor to Playtime Bunny.
(J) "Her blood pressure is 40! Her blood pressure is yellow!"
Last week, getting ready to run from the hearth, across sofa pillows lined up on the floor, and throw herself onto the Big Yellow Chair:
(J) "Introducing! The Spectacular Mt. Airy Guggabagah!"
Last week, ruminating on the concept of a world without gravity:
(J) "Digging in the garden would be a lot easier, I would say. And getting things off a shelf. But it would be hard to.... [face bunched in concentration, hands ready to help explain] ... stay DOWN."
Seriously, there are several dozen other examples I could offer as to why my daughter is a complete delight. It's truly an honor to be on the sidelines of her life, and a great relief from my often overly-aggrandized concerns. What a blessing.
Last night at dinner, for no reason:
(J) "Momma! My axles are bubbling!"
This morning while I'm futzing at the sink while J eats behind me at the counter:
(me) "[muttering to myself, then] Do you think I'm crazy?"
(J) [silence]
I turn around with an inquiring look.
(J) "Didn't you hear me nodding?"
Yesterday I raised my hand to silence her as she told me for the ten-THOUSANDTH time that she did not need a nap.
(J) "Do NOT do that to your DAUGHTER!"
Just now, acting as doctor to Playtime Bunny.
(J) "Her blood pressure is 40! Her blood pressure is yellow!"
Last week, getting ready to run from the hearth, across sofa pillows lined up on the floor, and throw herself onto the Big Yellow Chair:
(J) "Introducing! The Spectacular Mt. Airy Guggabagah!"
Last week, ruminating on the concept of a world without gravity:
(J) "Digging in the garden would be a lot easier, I would say. And getting things off a shelf. But it would be hard to.... [face bunched in concentration, hands ready to help explain] ... stay DOWN."
Seriously, there are several dozen other examples I could offer as to why my daughter is a complete delight. It's truly an honor to be on the sidelines of her life, and a great relief from my often overly-aggrandized concerns. What a blessing.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
If just for today
This Easter Sunday I want to stop hiding. This Easter Sunday I want to let go of feeling not good enough. This Easter Sunday I want to figure out what everyone else sees, and like it. This Easter Sunday I want to be O.K.
It has to come from inside. No one else can do it. How do I forgive me?
It has to come from inside. No one else can do it. How do I forgive me?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Watching women's NCAA game
Me: "So which [UConn player] is the really good one?"
JBL: "The one with the ponytail."
Me: "Oh. THAT one."
JBL: "The one with the ponytail."
Me: "Oh. THAT one."
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Slow and heavy
Cathe kicked my butt yesterday (on FitTV, not this DVD). I have been groaning around the house all day as I climb stairs, lift J, breath, etc.
Kate asked last week why muscle conditioning 'hurts', and she was shocked and mildly repulsed by the answer. It made me laugh as I said, "Yes, but in a good way." I recommend it highly!
Kate asked last week why muscle conditioning 'hurts', and she was shocked and mildly repulsed by the answer. It made me laugh as I said, "Yes, but in a good way." I recommend it highly!
Nothing better
I am trying to do some work today - it's one of the busier days of the quarter. It is also Spring Break. J is being such a good girl, trying to find independent activities. As we approach lunch time, she is missing me, though, and has decided she needs to do my hair.
So here I am, reviewing markups for a new set of requirements for one of our clients while my hair is being gently brushed.
"Does that feel good, Mama? Your hair is soooo soft. I bet that feels good, doesn't it?"
Yes. Yes it does.
So here I am, reviewing markups for a new set of requirements for one of our clients while my hair is being gently brushed.
"Does that feel good, Mama? Your hair is soooo soft. I bet that feels good, doesn't it?"
Yes. Yes it does.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Perspective
After witnessing other children and their parents during the past 2 days, I am feeling much better than I did in my last post. I am very lucky, all things considered.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Doing the right thing
I can't believe I'm still having this mental conversation. What to do with a child who tests the same damn boundaries again and again? Be consistent is the obvious answer. But my GOD I'm sick of this little phase. My lectures are worn out, clearly having no impact. My punishment (taking her sleeping buddy away) seems to always bewilder her. It's like she's just too little to put it all together. But...
Tell J she can play outside with the neighbor's kid - as long as she stays in our front yard -while I'm inside working on a project with K. Where do I find her not 10 minutes later? STANDING ON THE NEIGHBOR KID'S DIVING BOARD ABOVE THEIR UNOPENED POOL.
Tell J she should play in the basement playroom while I'm fixing lunch for her and her schoolmate, and specifically say to stay out of Daddy's office, and what do I find later? She is sitting on her bed with said schoolmate, holding a purse FULL OF KIT KAT BARS, TAKEN FROM DADDY'S STASH IN HIS OFFICE. Well, at least some of them were full bars. THE OTHERS WERE EMPTY WRAPPERS (after she'd been at a school Spring party where they had several treats, in addition to their normal snack). Keep in mind she also knows I have sugar cookies baking in the oven for a special after-lunch treat for her and her guest. Can I possibly say she can no longer have cookies, and yell at her in front of her friend? Of course not.
These are just a few examples of a recent trend. I am so frustrated, I feel like my face is breaking out, and my hair is on fire. Please, God, somebody....I hope this will turn out okay. J can very well listen and do the right thing - as long as it meets with her desires at the moment. If what is right conflicts with her current whim, forget about it. When I tell friends with older kids, they laugh and assure me that J is really a good kid. But, man. What are the right words to say to get through to a 5-year-old when it comes to this? Oh well, at least I didn't scream at her like last time. I still took Bunny away, but I did it very calmly.
This stinks.
Tell J she can play outside with the neighbor's kid - as long as she stays in our front yard -while I'm inside working on a project with K. Where do I find her not 10 minutes later? STANDING ON THE NEIGHBOR KID'S DIVING BOARD ABOVE THEIR UNOPENED POOL.
Tell J she should play in the basement playroom while I'm fixing lunch for her and her schoolmate, and specifically say to stay out of Daddy's office, and what do I find later? She is sitting on her bed with said schoolmate, holding a purse FULL OF KIT KAT BARS, TAKEN FROM DADDY'S STASH IN HIS OFFICE. Well, at least some of them were full bars. THE OTHERS WERE EMPTY WRAPPERS (after she'd been at a school Spring party where they had several treats, in addition to their normal snack). Keep in mind she also knows I have sugar cookies baking in the oven for a special after-lunch treat for her and her guest. Can I possibly say she can no longer have cookies, and yell at her in front of her friend? Of course not.
These are just a few examples of a recent trend. I am so frustrated, I feel like my face is breaking out, and my hair is on fire. Please, God, somebody....I hope this will turn out okay. J can very well listen and do the right thing - as long as it meets with her desires at the moment. If what is right conflicts with her current whim, forget about it. When I tell friends with older kids, they laugh and assure me that J is really a good kid. But, man. What are the right words to say to get through to a 5-year-old when it comes to this? Oh well, at least I didn't scream at her like last time. I still took Bunny away, but I did it very calmly.
This stinks.
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