we are animals

In searching for insight about my nutty and difficult daughter I had some thoughts about Clark. The gist of The Happiest Toddler on the Block is that toddlers are actually cave people (I'm not kidding) with primitive ways of interacting and expressing themselves. They haven't yet developed the more advanced forms of communication that they will as they get older, and the best way to reach them is to speak their language, which means behaving like a cave person yourself. If a child is throwing a fit, for example, you mirror what you assume are her thoughts and you say, "Frances angry! ANGRY! ANGRY! You WANT another cookie! You WANT!" I've tried this a little bit and not only do I feel like a dope but it seems to make no difference at all. The other thing the book suggests is, when scolding them (and this is for the littlest ones I'm pretty sure), to growl at them. Growl.

So I have.

Clark doesn't respond much to "No, Clark. No hitting. That's not okay." It sort of floats past him. But it turns out that growling is very very effective. I've done it a few times now and each time he immediately dissolved into tears. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It's not a loud growl, just a baring of my teeth, sort of like I assume a vampire might, and a throaty grrr. I find it very amusing that he responds so immediately, especially when he's been for the previous 30 seconds acting as if I haven't spoken. I switch from "No, no," to "grr" and everything changes. But his response is so distressed that I don't know if it's traumatizing in addition to effective. In any case he understands that I'm upset.

Something I'd been waiting for: Clark has learned to hit Frances when she's in his way or takes a toy or generally bothers him. The funny thing is that he doesn't just hit her; he keeps on hitting her even after she's stopped doing whatever she was doing. He kind of gets on a roll. But the growling stops him. Mitch says he tried growling at him last week and it didn't do anything. But he also said he didn't bare his teeth--I wonder if that has to be a part of it...

because the car belongs in the garage

I'm trying to figure out what is a stage and what is some abnormal behavior that I need to address specifically. This is why the 2nd kid has it so much easier... you realize it's just a stage and just shrug it off rather than drag yourself over the coals of guilt about your parenting and fear that you've screwed up the kid perminently.

The books say that three is hard b/c the kid realizes she is not a baby anymore and is excited about being grown, but is also afraid of being grown. I suppose it does involve much unknown, and the unknown is nearly always scary. One of the books mentions that toddlers are "small, slow, and clumsy" which is the genesis of much frustration with themselves and the world. I can see that. Also, they feed on structure and predictibility. It's the way they feel safe in the world. Hence our meltdown yesterday, which involved my pulling the car out of the garage before trying to load in kids. She absolutely freaked out. Turns out the car must be in the garage in order to climb in and fasten one's carseat. Who knew? Seriously, a complete meltdown.

It's hard to know how to respond. Sometimes what she's asking for seems so small and irrelevant that why not give it to her? If she feels out of control in the big big world and pulling the car back in the garage will help, then why not? But there are other times when I feel like she's trying to test me and see how far she can push, in which case the best approach is simply to hold the line. And then there are the times when I just don't want to.

a-ha...

Now I know why I'm not supposed to sleep with my daughter. It's because she comes in our room at TWO AM and wants to get in bed with us. It's because at TWO AM when I tell her that she must sleep in her own bed, she has a meltdown. It's because when I finally bribe her with music to stay in her own bed, she returns AN HOUR LATER to tell me she doesn't want Hickory Dickory Dock on the CD. It's because I'm tired. We had a little chat yesterday about how much fun it is to sleep together in the afternoon and how much I love snuggling with her, but if she keeps coming in our room in the night then we're going to have to stop sleeping together in the afternoon. I hope she can see the logic.

love like the sky

Wow. I've heard that the thrashing threes are harder than the terrible twos and now I know what they're talking about. I mean, really. And it's so odd, a major see-saw: not only is she impossible when she's difficult, but when she's calm she's really loving and wonderful, more affectionate toward me than she's ever been, in fact.

Today when we were leaving Kidtown everyone was in a good mood and I said, "Okay, let's all hold hands!" Clark held my hand right away and Frances wanted to hold his other hand but he was holding his blanket and didn't want to let go, and then we were in the middle of the parking lot and there was a car behind us so I sort of grabbed Frances's hand and hustled her along, and that was it. From then it was all over. Apparently she wanted to walk on the curb where in her mind she wouldn't have to hold my hand and in the end I had to physically force her into the car, which is so much fun. She's so big now too, and much harder to just pick up and carry to the car like I used to. She got so mad at me and wanted "Daddy, Daddy! I want Daddy!" but when he got on the phone he could only talk for a minute and she erupted in a fresh fury because she wanted to "talk for a while." She truly lost control, everything in the world wrong, and I tried my best to help her but I need a new tactic or something. Finally it was listening to her music in her room that calmed her, thank goodness.

A while back I was reading The Happiest Toddler on the Block but I stopped a third of the way through. I'm going to go back to it and maybe find something that will help. I'll let you know if I discover anything.

And then, an hour later she was hugging me around the middle while she stood on a stool in the kitchen and watched me fix lunch, and over and over she'd gaze up into my face and say, "I love you Mommy." When Mitch got out of his meeting and called back she didn't want to talk to him at all.

One major thing that's changed between us is that I've started napping with her. I've always wondered about folks who nap or sleep with their kids and it was not something I wanted to try. I felt very clear about wanting my own space and wanting them to entertain themselves in theirs. Then one day Frances wouldn't nap so I lay down with her. And she was asleep within five minutes. It was amazing. I kept doing that for a bit, getting her to fall asleep and then sneaking away, and then we morphed into napping together on my bed. It's so cozy and sweet and snuggly and I think it's changed some of the dynamics with us. I think she feels closer to me now as a result. Often before she falls asleep she traces my face with her fingers and sighs, "I love you as big as the house and the road and the sky."

Oh, and a halloween picture, because how can I resist?

i am two different moms.

Unacceptable amount of time between posts. I haven't been wanting to write lately, have been sort of coasting along rather than examining my life and mothering--which is a good thing.

I've recently realized that I've been a better mother to Clark than I have to Frances. Clark is easier to mother--that's the biggest reason. Yesterday I had trouble at the end of a play date wrangling two kids into socks and shoes and coats, and we got home late for Clark's nap. If this had been 18 months ago and Frances was the one late for a nap I would have been so anxious, a mess of rushing and panic and irritability, and with good reason: it would have meant a looming tornado and possibly no nap at all (the result of which, as you know, is an entire afternoon and evening of tornados, one after the other). But with Clark it only means a little grumpiness and then immediate sleep. (When I got him out of the car he put his blanket down on the filthy floor of the garage and lay on it...) It was/is in those/these anxious moments that I parent badly--that White Trash Mama appears and tosses the Little Tykes slide down the basement stairs (just as an example). These moments come when I feel out of control--not of the kids, but of schedules, or meals, or other things I believe I should be able to control if only I pay enough attention. I know I'm a little fanatical about things like nap schedules, but now I realize that it's not just me--I had to be because Frances required it if she were to remain collected. Clark glides along much better, and I can relax about these things. And when I relax I yell less, I rush less, I like life more, I parent better.

But it's also timing. Clark and I went to the mall earlier this week while Frances was in school and it was so much fun. I kept thinking how Frances wasn't so jolly and agreeable and fun at this age. Then I talked to my mom on my cell while Clark climbed on and off a bench and squinched his eyes at me, and she pointed out that when Frances was Clark's age I had a two month old and had just moved half way across the country. Oh right. I guess we weren't hanging out at the mall. My mom said Frances was indeed this much fun, I just missed it. Yup, I did.

Today, though, Clark and I were at Home Depot and it's christmas there, all the inflatable yard art displayed. It reminded me that I used to take Frances there when it was too gross to go to the park--to get out of the house and look at the yard art and christmas trees. (Ah, the simple pleasures.) As Clark and I were leaving he stepped into a little shed they had displayed and stomped around inside. I leaned in the door and said "boo" and he laughed and laughed. We had a great time. And that reminded me of being at Costco with Frances--another regular outing of ours--when I was pregnant with Clark. They had some very similar sheds displayed and we played the same game for all kinds of time, in no hurry at all. This must have been during those few weeks after I stopped working but before Clark was born. She was fun. And every bit as charming.

I used to worry about this discrepancy in my mothering, worry that perhaps Frances is difficult because of my anxiety and Clark is easy because of my lack, but I think that's backwards. No, they are different kids tempermentally, and I can't help but react to them differently. Truth is that my temperment is more in harmony with Clark's. And that's just something that is, just part of my story and each of theirs.

pacifier love

She's three years old, there are sores around her mouth, and her bite has a gap she can stick her finger in. It's time. A couple of weeks ago I tried to change the rule so that she only used it upstairs in the house--anywhere upstairs--but she was so distraught and anxious that I told her we could wait to set that rule. Turns out she was getting sick. But for a few days I talked to her about how we were going to have to change the rule soon, told her about her teeth and about the sores and how the paci was causing these problems. I told her how sorry I am that she can't have the paci forever. I also told her big girls don't use them. I don't like playing the big girl card--I believe it often backfires and encourages them to just act like and decide to be babies. Also, it's so much pressure--to be big and grown perhaps before they're ready. But it's also the truth. She's three now, she's getting to be a big girl, and the truth is that big girls don't use them.

So I waited a few days, talked about it, and got her sort of on board. The doctor says we should just have the paci disappear one day, just get lost. He says there will be a few rough nights after that (yeah, I'd say!) but I don't know. I don't know that I like that approach. It seems heartless, for one thing. She's having to adjust to many new things, to new skills and the idea of being big, which is scary to children. And just then to take away the thing that gives her the most comfort...? I don't know.

She doesn't ever need it at school, or at the kid area at the gym, or at her sitter's house, so clearly it's just a habit. But the anxiety of not having it at bedtime or when she's really really upset is very real to her. Just because I think it's not necessary does not diminish her very real feelings about it. It seems to me that having it just vanish is disrespectful to her, and also doesn't give her very much credit for being able to do this on her own. It is her paci, after all. And I think she's capable of understanding the problems it causes. My next step is to get her to the dentist and let the dentist tell her about how she's going to have to let it go. Maybe an authority figure that isn't me will help things along.

She's definitely got an oral fixation. Downstairs, now that the paci's not allowed, there's much gum chewing. I'm fine with that. But if we can break the habit down here, and when she's watching tv, and when she's in the car, it will be great progress. Then maybe we can restrict it just to bedtime. Mitch says it's kind of like quitting smoking by cutting down to fewer and fewer cigarettes and the feeling I got from that was that he thought it was a bogus approach, but come to think of it I quit smoking that way. Funny.

redeemed

I quit working about five weeks before Clark was born. During that time I couldn't carry Frances because I was so hugely pregnant and uncomfortable, which meant that everywhere we went we walked at her 16-month-old pace. I had a great time with her then. Going to the park, the grocery, the museum, just climbing up and down the front steps. I didn't want it to end. In fact, when Clark was born I mourned the loss of my alone time with Frances, something I blogged a little about here. That blog post doesn't really describe the sorrow I felt. Loss, sadness, something gone from me forever. My relationship with Frances changed, irrecoverable.

But! Something interesting is transpiring. Clark is now about the age Frances was when he was born. (This is hard for me to believe... I CAN NOT imagine having a newborn right now omg.) And now with Frances in school in the mornings, Clark and I have some time to ourselves. Today I trimmed one of the trees out front and he helped me drag the limbs to the curb. He was adorable--so excited to be helping, pulling a leafy branch behind him and then heaving it onto the pile. He'd stand there and look at his success and grin, then turn and toddle to get another. Today it occurred to me for the first time that I'm getting time with him in this 18 month old stage, at just the age when I had to give up time with her. It's redeeming. I'm remembering why I so loved being with her--how much fun this age is. He's still a baby, still so cute in that baby way, but he's also able to point to the doll's ears and then his own, to say "blue" and point out everything blue in the room, to tell me through gestures that he wants pretzels and not yogurt. He has opinions, but he also finds everything so exciting that I can take his mind off trying to follow the cat across the street by suggesting he help me pull the limbs to the curb. It's not distraction with which I succeed (oh no--there's no distracting), but with suggestion of something else enticing. And there's so much in the world to see and discover!

Most of last summer, when Clark was tiny and Frances was not yet two, is for me a blur. I have a picture of them on the front steps of our new house together, but I don't remember what it was like. I don't remember what SHE was like. I was so entangled in taking care of a newborn, so sleep deprived and overwhelmed and drained. That, combined with the loneliness and sheer effort of the move, and I feel like I lost nearly a year of her life, missed it all together. I'm glad to have his.