The Awe and The Wonder

The other night, Thing 2 was finally asleep, and a very tired Thing 1 had just been tucked into bed.  I sat by her bed, and talked about the day, and what she is going to dream about (flying in the clouds with dragons and Kipper the Dog). She was staring half asleep into the distance, her buzzing internal energy mellowing to a soft hum, her face peaceful in the glow of the nightlight as she hugged her stuffed dog. 

As I looked at her, I suddenly had one of those strange revelation moments as I fully thought about the fact that she was my daughter. This beautiful child with her wild blonde hair and her huge eyes and her ridiculous cackle of a laugh. The 2 year old that can tell you about molecules and dinosaurs and wants to know what a horizon is. 

I felt like the last time I really LOOKED at her was over a year ago, before I was pregnant with Thing 2, when she was just starting to walk and talk and was in love with her bears at the zoo. 

I was overwhelmed with this feeling that I had missed the last year and half of her life. While I had been distracted by morning sickness and postpartum and a newborn and working and moving, she had become someone new. 

Then I realized: It's happening! I am nostalgic for the little baby stage! I am thinking 'wow that went fast! I need to treasure these moments!'  It was a strangely melancholy feeling.

I sat there until she fell asleep, just staring at her face, trying to make sense of how this amazing person could have come out of me, and now be so separately and entirely her own self.

Before I know it she will be in school and then college and then off on her own. 
Sigh.


(I totally can't wait!)

Metaphysical Toddlers

Conversations with a precocious two year old go something like this:

"Where does milk come from, Mama?"

"I don't know, where does milk come from?"

"Milk comes from cows, Mama! Where does cows come from, Mama?"

"From mama cows."

"Where do clothes come from, Mama, where do clothes COME from?"

"Clothes are made in factories out of fabric."

"What is FABRIC Mama?"

"Fabric is made from threads we get from plants and animals."

"Where do animals come from?"

"Momma and daddy animals make baby animals, and those grow up and make more animals."

"Like Mia?"

"Sure, yes, like Mia."

"Where does WATER come from, Mama?"

"Water that we drinks comes out of the ground in pipes."

"Oh. But where does water COME from Mama?"

"Water goes up to the clouds as vapor, and then rains down, and goes back into the ground, and comes back up in pipes.  That's called the 'water cycle'. "

"Da water cyyycle. But what IS water, Mama?"

"Well, water is made up of Hydrogen and Oxygen molecules."

"OXYGEN  is an el-u-ment!"

"Um. Correct. Very good sweetie."

"Where does OXYGEN come from Mama?! Where does OXYGEN COME FROM?"

...

"That is a really good question honey. Go ask your papa."

Making People

My youngest brother, who has never been around children (and has been over-exposed to mine) has seemed disturbed and confused by the fact that Thing 1 continues to do bad things even after I have told her not to.  

For example, my parent's Old Kitty is sadly now Very-Frail-Not-Long-for-This-World-Please-Don't-Touch-Him-Or-Else-He-Might-Break Kitty. Which means that her favorite kitty is suddenly off limits and not to be bothered. Or hugged. Or picked up. Or pushed. Or scared. Or spoken loudly around. This is hard for a small Tyrant to understand, and as a result she hears, "Be gentle to kitty! Gentle! Leave him alone! Don't touch the kitty!" around a million times a day. 

After the ten thousandth time, this young man just shook his head and looked at me, 
"Why does she do that? I mean, what's the point? You've told her not to. She knows she'll get in trouble. WHY does she keep doing it?"

Errrrrr.....

This got me thinking about the intensive training it takes to make babies into fully functioning human beings. I have come to the conclusion that repetition is the main tool. 
For example, when  my toddler sweetly states, "Thank YOU!" that is the result of being prompted a hundred times a day for several years before her first voluntary response. 

Do you see how she is resisting pulling everything off of all the shelves in her reach? We worked on that for probably a year straight, starting when she first became mobile. Every day all the DVD's and books were on the floor dozens of times. Then we would pick them up. And I would say, "Don't pull the DVD's down. NO." She would nod solemnly - and then do it again a half an hour later just incase maybe the rules had changes.

Not all children are quite as stubborn as mine. Some babies hear, "NO!" and their world ends and they never EVER want to hear it again so they behave like little angels.
( I have only heard rumors of these children, please, if you see one, send me a pictures so I know they are real.)

Children like mine push boundaries constantly because they want to do and know and experience EVERYTHING. RIGHT NOW. Which is wonderful and exhausting and challenging and means that I will be telling her the same things OVER and OVER and OVER again for many years. I guess as a mommy I have to look at the long term results of this training, and not focus on the short term repeated offenses.    

As to why does she do the bad things she does? Best I can guess it's because becoming a person is fucking hard work. Similar to the time commitment needed to learn a foreign language while training for the olympics and preparing for life on a space station.

It is good to remember how hard it all is when a little person is behaving badly.  
It's probably not just because they are evil little minions.  
(Probably.)

Red Alert

If at some point in your life your diabolical children are sitting quietly, playing together like little angels, while educational television hums soothingly in the background,  you may think, "Hey! I bet I could sit down for a minute and check my email for the first time today and maybe just let my high red alert simmer to a pleasant yellow."

When this happens, don't do it. Just. Don't. 

Because as soon as your back is turned someone (Thing 1, I'm looking at you...)  is going to find the one colored pencil you missed when you grabbed them from Thing 2's grasp earlier before she could shove them down her throat. (It will be the red one.  It's always the red one.) 

Then they will systematically cover as many square inches of your parent's new plasma flat screen TV with intricate scribbles and designs. Even if it means scaling the wall of toy pianos, lego wagons, small stools, and rocking horses you have carefully constructed around it.

Yeah, it's not worth those five minutes of semi-relaxation that you desperately needed.  The time-out and scolding are going to be at least 15 minutes total. The cleanup from Thing 2 dumping the last dredges of your coffee cup all over the table while you were disciplining her sister will cost you another 10. Not to mention the frantic wiping off of the TV before your mom sees it so that you can at least pretend to be a good parent.  

Don't get lulled into a false sense of security. 

They are waiting for you to show weakness.

Don't let your guard down.
Be vigilant. 
Be ready. 

Thy Mother's Name in Vain

For the last few days I have been waking up to a tiny hand patting my face as a new little voice lisps sleepily, "MaMA mama MAma MAMA Mamamamamama!"  

Thing 2 has spoken her first words! They make me smile before my eyes have even opened. No matter how brutal the night, no matter how many marathon hours of teething-baby-nursing I have sat awake for, nope, doesn't matter. She said my name sweetly therefore I love her.

It has made me think of that old quote, 

"Mother is the name for god in the lips and hearts of little children." 

-William Makepeace Thackeray Vanity Fair

(When I first read this I was young and single and thought, "Whoa, that is so deep and beautiful.  Mothers are so powerful and strong and worship-deserving." This was before I realized that while Mothers are indeed powerful and strong and worship-deserving, they are also fucking tired burnt out exhausted needing of showers and drinks. Still. It's a nice quote.) 

However, being the "god" of children has it's downside. Thing 2 is in that new-convert stage of awe and devotion. I provide her with the miraculous booby-juice and 24 hour care. I wipe her little bum, I bounce her to sleep. I am, if I do say so myself, fairly awesome. And since she is doing very little wrong just yet, I am also very benevolent. 

Thing 1, on the other hand, is in that disillusioned stage of a devotee. She wants more from her god than just cuddles. She wants popsicles. And ponies. And sometimes hot air balloon rides. When this god doesn't answer the way she wants, she is not very happy. Apparently her god has some rules and requirements for all this bounty. When she disobeys, well, she gets a little fire and brimstone action. 

She is also realizing that she has options. She can make choices about obeying or disobeying. Maybe she doesn't need a god. After all, she can reach high shelves and climb on chairs and open doors and count to twenty and tell you all about 4 out of 7 planets. She is reaching demi-god status herself.  As a result, she has started using the name of her god with a little less reverence than before:

"MOM! Mooooooom! MOMEEEEEE!!!! MOM! MOM! MOM! Mommy! MOMMY! MOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!"

 It can be like sandpaper on my eardrums. There are days, I have to admit, that I absolutely hate that word.

But then after a really rough day, Thing 1 will find me, crawl into my lap, frame my face so gently with her tiny hands and whisper, "Mamma. I love you. I love my Mama."

My heart will melt, and just like that she is a tiny baby again lisping my name for the first time. I play my role of long suffering parent to my prodigal daughter, and hug her, and kiss her, and tell her I love her too.

And forgive her for all the times she has taken my name in vain. 

"NO!"

Two year olds have a hard time processing major life changes. Like recently moving. Which we just did. 
Instead of saying, "Hey, this is weird that you have totally upset everything that I am familiar with and taken me away from the only home I can remember. I am having a hard time adjusting and am feeling sad and anxious," they start scratching anything with skin that gets within their reach and doing the exact opposite of everything they should do.

As a result, there has been a lot of "NO!" going on the last few days.
Thing 1 attempts to lift Old Kitty by the tail while Old Kitty is trying to eat dinner - "NO!"
Thing 1 tips over her sister who is just starting to pull herself up on everything - "NO!"
Thing 1 drinks large gulp of juice, gargles it, grins at me, and let's it dribble all over her shirt - "NO!"
Thing 1 locks herself in the bathroom - "NO!"
Thing 1 drinks a half a cup of coffee - "NO!"

This much negative enforcement (lots of talking down, talking up, bribing, positive reinforcement, and occasional time out included) takes a toll on my brain. I don't want to once again explain to my child that hitting is wrong and we need to be gentle. I want her to remember when I explained it twenty minutes ago.

This morning she looked at me after a very firm "NO!" for deliberately dumping a bag of cheerios on the floor and said, "Ooooooh, I make Mama SAD. My fault. It's MY FAULT again!"in completely faked remorseful tones.
Which made me laugh out loud and completely defeated the power of my "NO!"

Then, this afternoon, we had a truly grueling series of "NO!"s:
"Momma! Want a chip!"
"NO!"
"Momma! Want to ride da cow!"
"NO!"
"Momma! NEED a popsicle!! I NEED IT!"
"NO!"
"Momma! I push MIA! It's FUNNY! It IS!"
"NOOOOO!!!"

As we were washing our hands after a diaper change, she looked at me and said,
"Momma! Want to brush my teeth!"
And I naturally replied,
"NO!"
"Momma, PLEASE. My teeth are FUZZY. Please brusha' my teeth?"
"NO!"

Pause.

Did I just tell my child not to to brush her teeth?
"Ok. You can brush your teeth.  THIS time."

Nice save.

Sometimes, even in the midst of a tidal wave of negativity, there may just be a good idea. It's important not to get overwhelmed so that I don't automatically say "NO!" and miss out.

After all, maybe tomorrow she will want to pee on the toilet, eat all her healthy food, go down for a nap without complaint, clean the windows, and take a bath on her own. You never know.

The Horrible Truth

You want to know a terrible secret?  At least once a day I have the mind numbing revelation that I should never have had children, and that there is now nothing I can do about it.  Having children is one decision you can't undo. They are permanent.

These moments don't always last long, for example, this morning's revelation happened when Thing 1 suddenly decided to bolt into a stranger's yard while on our walk, throw herself dramatically on her back and start rolling in circles.  I tried verbal parenting like all the good books recommend, but my child was staring blissfully at the sky and had apparently been temporarily struck deaf.  

I had Thing 2 strapped to my chest, but I managed to haul her limp sister  up with one hand, expecting the owners of the house to appear at any moment demanding what the ruckus was about and sending their pitbull after us.  

Thing 1, of course, screamed and thrashed as only a two year old can, kicked off both her boots and sent her hat flying into the bushes. I did an impressive squat with a shoeless toddler under one arm shrieking that I was "Squiiiiiiiishing" her, an infant trying to get away from the noise by arching backwards into my collar bone, and retrieved the scattered clothing with my free hand. 

Then I walked two blocks home with my child hanging upside down and her sister kicking me in the groin, grinning fiercely at any of my neighbors who were also up as early as I was. And there it was, the burning certainty that I had gotten myself in over my head. 

There is no time to dwell ofcourse, because there are clothes to put away and food to prepare and messes to tidy and babies to nurse. that time 

But I know it was there - That horrible, brutally honest moment when I imagine what my life would have been like if I was kid free. 

This doesn't mean I don't love my kids. It doesn't mean I wouldn't die to protect them. I think it just means that they are little and demanding and I am very, very tired.

I just hope that there are parallel worlds, and in one of them I slept in this morning, took a long shower, shaved my legs, read a book with coffee, paid all my bills in my awesome home-office, am now painting a picture before meeting up with some friends for dinner where we will discuss our love lives and then catch a late showing of the latest blockbuster.

Maybe that makes me a bad mom - but this blog is about telling the truth, even if it is horrible.