Saturday, May 16, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
A Riddle, Of Sorts
Today, it's a riddle. A guess who? kind of riddle.
We didn't know when she was a new baby if she'd be able to pull all of the tissues out a newly-opened box and trail them unceremoniously around the room. Or decide to make her own container of cinnamon sugar (just imagine the carnage that entails!). Or unroll a new roll of toilet paper both at home and at school, while counting to 20 and waiting for the "pee and poops to wake up" (which seems to happen all too frequently in her pull-up or diaper and not enough on the actual porcelain throne.) Or single-handedly squeeze half a bottle of dish soap into a bowl full of water so her pink frog could take a bath. Or imprint her face so artistically with Curious George stamps pressed in mostly washable blue ink. Or, instead of eating them, mash strawberries into the floor. With her bare feet.....
And this is all just since Saturday.
Like I said, we didn't know if she would be able to do any of those things.
I'm glad she can.
I wish she wouldn't!
Any guesses?
We didn't know when she was a new baby if she'd be able to pull all of the tissues out a newly-opened box and trail them unceremoniously around the room. Or decide to make her own container of cinnamon sugar (just imagine the carnage that entails!). Or unroll a new roll of toilet paper both at home and at school, while counting to 20 and waiting for the "pee and poops to wake up" (which seems to happen all too frequently in her pull-up or diaper and not enough on the actual porcelain throne.) Or single-handedly squeeze half a bottle of dish soap into a bowl full of water so her pink frog could take a bath. Or imprint her face so artistically with Curious George stamps pressed in mostly washable blue ink. Or, instead of eating them, mash strawberries into the floor. With her bare feet.....
And this is all just since Saturday.
Like I said, we didn't know if she would be able to do any of those things.
I'm glad she can.
I wish she wouldn't!
Any guesses?
Friday, May 1, 2009
And This Is An Improvement!
Raw emotion. That's what it is. The shouts, the shrieks, the legs and feet kicking wildly, the arms flailing, the fingers balling up into fists, the red face, and the tears rolling. And that's just me! Okay, really it's not me. (On the outside. On the inside, it's another story....) Yes, this is Annie we're talking about. That sweet, little girl whose emotions can change so suddenly, you're not sure what just hit you. (Well, actually you are: that was a kick to the gut!)
Can I be very honest and say that sometimes, it's really hard being a mom? The hard thing in this case is helplessly watching your daughter virtually deconstruct. You know what it's like when your 2- or 3-year old throws a tantrum. There is the stern admonishment to change the behaviour. Now. The threat to walk away (even it's just a few feet.) Strangers might even be gawking (and let's face it, a good many of them probably want to pat your shoulder and reassure you that this too shall pass. Or they want to give you sage advice about what they deem the appropriate response to a child screaming in the parking lot.) And of course, there is also requisite soothing when things seem to be under control again. I think most of us have been there, are still there, or are on our way there.
When it's your toddler or young child, you can expect that kid to eventually outgrow such behaviour. If that kid, in the midst of a tantrum is posing a danger to himself or others, you can remove him to a safer location. But what do you do when that child is 6-and-a-half and the tantrums show no signs of slowing down? She may outgrow such aberrant behavior, or at least learn to reign it in somewhat. But she may not. You have to face that.
Sometimes, when the pin drops or the breeze changes direction (and that seems to be all it takes on occasion) and Annie loses complete control of herself, I cringe as I wonder if she is exploding or imploding. A bit (or a lot) of both, I imagine. If we don't physically restrain her, we might find ourselves bruised, anything on a flat surface swept off, or the walls marked where she's hurled books or toys or phones or anything else that happens to be within arms reach. And as we hold her, we vacillate between our own tempers flaring, angst, and hearts breaking for a little girl who can't figure out another way to express frustration.
Eventually, the angry rush of water slows down until it is a mere trickle. Hair is gently stroked, flushed cheeks are wiped, hiccuping breaths are soothed. Are there magic words that turn that frown upside-down? I think "I love you" and kisses and hugs might be enough for now. I hope that lasts.
Can I be very honest and say that sometimes, it's really hard being a mom? The hard thing in this case is helplessly watching your daughter virtually deconstruct. You know what it's like when your 2- or 3-year old throws a tantrum. There is the stern admonishment to change the behaviour. Now. The threat to walk away (even it's just a few feet.) Strangers might even be gawking (and let's face it, a good many of them probably want to pat your shoulder and reassure you that this too shall pass. Or they want to give you sage advice about what they deem the appropriate response to a child screaming in the parking lot.) And of course, there is also requisite soothing when things seem to be under control again. I think most of us have been there, are still there, or are on our way there.
When it's your toddler or young child, you can expect that kid to eventually outgrow such behaviour. If that kid, in the midst of a tantrum is posing a danger to himself or others, you can remove him to a safer location. But what do you do when that child is 6-and-a-half and the tantrums show no signs of slowing down? She may outgrow such aberrant behavior, or at least learn to reign it in somewhat. But she may not. You have to face that.
Sometimes, when the pin drops or the breeze changes direction (and that seems to be all it takes on occasion) and Annie loses complete control of herself, I cringe as I wonder if she is exploding or imploding. A bit (or a lot) of both, I imagine. If we don't physically restrain her, we might find ourselves bruised, anything on a flat surface swept off, or the walls marked where she's hurled books or toys or phones or anything else that happens to be within arms reach. And as we hold her, we vacillate between our own tempers flaring, angst, and hearts breaking for a little girl who can't figure out another way to express frustration.
Eventually, the angry rush of water slows down until it is a mere trickle. Hair is gently stroked, flushed cheeks are wiped, hiccuping breaths are soothed. Are there magic words that turn that frown upside-down? I think "I love you" and kisses and hugs might be enough for now. I hope that lasts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
