You talk what you want to talk

"Ma-ma. You talk what you want to talk and I talk what I want to talk. ok?"

It is amazing the power of humans to not notice the extent of some of our own behaviors. I was convinced that I mostly speak to A in Lithuanian when she and I are alone, and only spoke to her in English around M or with my friend.

And that she has stopped speaking Lithuanian due to some small change I've made. Not speaking enough once in a while. It was really emotional to be asking her to say words in Lithuanian and hear her refuse. To see her get upset if I asked her to speak it. What was I going to do? How was I going to make it something she wanted to do, instead of something forced (by withholding playing with her or something else horrible like that)?

I was going to start making Lithuanian kids videos! Yes! And find a summer camp in Lithuania to go to after our other travel this summer. And buy more books. Did I mention the Lithuanian Sesame Street that was slowly being planned in my head?

That quote above is something she started saying in response to my asking her to speak Lithuanian with me. Sigh. Heart-gripping sigh.

Ok, little one. Ok. I'll just keep speaking it. And planning and trying not to get too overbearing.

And 3 days later, I've now realized that I really had been speaking less Lithuanian. Because now that I'm back to all the time we're together, there are phrases she is parroting back ("Do you want white or blue?") in Lithuanian instead of answering only in English. I'm able to bring it back, without having to ask.

And sometimes we are both talking what I wanted her to talk.

When one person wins, you both lose

Just another usual Sunday. Waking up with all sorts of hope that some scrap of sitting iwth a coffee and reading the NYTimes might happen, only to end up with a kid in her room in time-out because she was kicking me after I took her away from the table after she shoved her cup and plate across it, after I told her she had to mix juice with water if she wanted any juice.

One of those golden moments in parenting that never seem to make it onto any mother's brag list the next week. Sheesh, how did we get here again?

Time out (two of them actually) over, in the living room now, and this time it is M coming up with 10 reasons I shouldn't start building the IKEA shoe cabinets until I know 100% for sure which ones have to be returned (two of the three I bought have a slightly - 2cm - different height listed on the box, probably due to some phasing in of a new design under the same barcode), after telling me earlier this week that the thing he hates most are the moving boxes we are currently using for shoe storage in the hallway. Now I'm on the receiving end of the lose, and it is clear to me why this tactic sucks. At least, being on the receiving end. And that is where A was this morning. I was winning and so we were both losing.

Winning an argument through logic often leads to alienating the person you "won" against, and that isn't the end of goal of most relationships. Not an easy lesson, especially for an academic (either me or M) who keeps seeing logic held in the highest esteem in daily life. Academics can really suck at cooperation and giving in. Turns out, we bring it all too easily home to the breakfast table, too. And then the living room, the bathroom and a handful of other places where it is the last thing we should be emphasizing.

Given how I felt after M won and I put the pieces of the dresser I'd chosen to build back in the box, no wonder A was kicking me earlier this morning.

That smile. That heartbreaking smile.

We've had a tough night previous, on the way to bedtime, the little A and her Mama. And now we are dressed, and on our way to school. Not the first bus that I like better, but still going to be on time. Things are good. We are walking.

"I will go to kindergarten, too, mama!" she says, huge grin of imagined joys splashing across her face.

And although my first reaction is to smile with her and ask "You will?! Will that be fun?", my second reaction, what seems like only 1/2 a second later is this deep ache in my heart.

For all the things that kindergarten won't be like. For the kid who might bully her (I never consider she might one day be the bully). For the teacher who won't understand what she is trying to say and doesn't give her the benefit of the doubt. For whatever unidolphincorn she thinks will be the class pet, drinking their snowflake water and fairy-dusted snacks. For the let down.

I should just let her have the thought. And I do. But I should let myself see her happy now, and not see myself in that toothy grin, announcing I'm going to have a second child (and then having to announce later that that didn't work out), or that I'm moving to Switzerland and then hitting the reality of living in a foreign country with no family network.

I guess that deep ache is for my dashed hopes.

And yet, for those moments, before reality set it, I was happy just imagining. So maybe it is okay to just be happy in the moment of expectation, and then take life as it comes.

I'm not sure. She, just like I, takes it very hard when things aren't as she hoped. Her excuse is that she is a toddler with a still developing brain. My excuse has yet to make it to the foreground.

We round the corner, headed for the stop of the bus that will take us up the hill. We talk about the possibility that she may get to "in front", as she always hopes to sit on the buses. From sitting in front at 8:45am, to a no tantrum bedtime - even though we come close when I've told her again not to pull a toilet roll fixture (I have very important priorities, you see) and she slaps my face with both hands, and I leave and she cries. But from somewhere I haven't been able to draw on other nights, I let her cry for a bit without yelling at her, and then come back to ask if it was a mistake. We wash her hands, get her in pajamas and a blanket-rich stroller for the night ride to walk the dog one last time.

Bedtime is mostly smooth, definitely smoother than last night. And I realize writing this that maybe the unanticipated joys of one calmer evening, brought about by intention-driven actions on my part, more than makes up for the disappointing realities of beautiful dreams.

Happy Valentine's Day, A. 

The first sprouts

I like to think that much of the time that I pour into trying to understand myself better, leads to me being a better parent as well. And, conversely, that the time I spend trying to parent more calmly, lovingly, well, leads to benefits in myself. Well, and that all of that also impacts A.

And now, in the middle of another big push of "parenting tune-up", I'm seeing some really lovely things sprouting up from all those seeds I had hoped were being planted with all the hard emotional work.

A has started to thank both me and her father for making dinner or breakfast. Just, out of the blue. She's really shy talking to many other people, and may not even say thank you, at all, to others. Not for a chocolate, a toy, a gift. We figure she'll get there eventually, and have not pushed her much past "it is nice to say Thank You." We don't require it. But we do say a lot of thank you's in the house around things like dinner and breakfast, among the adults. And it seems, just sitting there and watching, that A has taken to that habit. A very good lesson about living and practicing, instead of preaching.

And a few times recently, I have found myself so frustrated with our clash of wills, and confused about how to proceed, that all I can do is say "I'm not sure what to do!"

This, too, has been observed, and, it seems, assimilated.

The other morning I told A that I needed another 5 minutes to sleep, that I'm cranky in the mornings, and that if she really really wanted to get out of bed, it should be without pacifier (she needs to be awake enough to not need it, for my morning person to want to hang out with her morning person) and with diaper changed to underpants and pants. She protested a bit. Somewhat louder than in a talking voice. I re-iterated. And then she sighed loudly, and said "I don't know what to do!"

I asked her if she was having a hard time choosing, and she said "yes."

And then she had "an idea, Mama." She decided to go to the diaper/underpants switch first, pacifier in mouth, and then put the pacifier away. Totally acceptable to me, and a great solution.

This kid is awesome.

Bedtime blues...and red (shudder)

Baby A and I had quite the afternoon yesterday. Let’s just say a lot of crying happened around nap time. And while I had a bloody nose in the morning from my cold, she managed a bloody mouth from something she did while seriously protesting being in her crib. I have no idea how she did that to her gums, but I was pretty freaked out when I first picked her up in the dark and saw dark red on her chin.

Other than those 2 minutes each of bleeding, we were okay, but in the middle of the 5-step process that she seems to need most days to fall asleep, I just realized I can’t keep doing that. It makes me tired of being a mom. Hold her, sway her, bounce her while walking, bounce her while sitting, let her roll around on the big bed to settle down. It is too much, too many options, and it turns her into a too finely-tuned baby. Not for her, but for me.

Really, as with most other realizations, it is a realization about myself, borne out of frustration. I’m not super-mom. I don’t have the patience, when I’m tired (especially then…I don’t do tired very gracefully), to go through all those steps calmly. I just want it to be over, at least for my part to be over. I want to sit down, lay down, just rest, even if on the floor. I realized it is okay for me to be the kind of person who is not so great when she is tired.

And while it is my responsibility to keep trying to get enough rest, and put sleep ahead of a lot of other things I might also want to do, it is okay that Baby A has to meet me a bit more towards center. Not because it is fair or not, but because I can’t do more than that sometimes. Because her mama is imperfect and that is totally okay. It is okay that I disappoint her sometimes and that she knows I’m not superwoman. And I think it is much better than being angry with her, for me to fall short of some of her ideals.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think my 9 month old baby should learn to put on her own pajamas, make her own bottle, or even scream herself to sleep. I just mean that I’m coming to the realization that it is okay that I may only have enough in me to sway with patience, and I don’t have to be embarrassed (and then angry at her for asking more of me), if she cries a bit more than if I could bounce and walk, too. This morning, she cried a bit in my arms, screamed a few times while arching, and then, as I kept really nicely calm and kept swaying, she readjusted once more in my arms and fell asleep. It was all I had for her, and it turned out to be enough. She met me a little bit closer to center.

We’re starting to read a few books (I know, I know, but they come recommended this time) about sleeping and babies. Granted, head hitting the crib bars or whatever that messed up thing is that brought about a bloody gum, we’re not going to let her go that far when we can help it. This baby isn’t made to be left completely on her own to figure out sleep. But her mama isn’t made to completely put her to sleep every night, either. And that is okay. She doesn’t have to make it to some classic, babble for 5 min and drift off stage. Because I don’t think she can handle it. And in our family, I’ve decided that it is okay for each of us to have some things we can’t handle and for everyone else to pitch in (in whatever way they can, big or small) on those issues. It is part of self-acceptance for Baby A, learning by seeing us accept our own limits. Without shame or guilt. Practicing being complete beings, just as we are.

My main point….I’ve come back to this paragraph after a day. My point is that I’m going to start acting like (and hopefully eventually believing that) my okay-ness, or good enough-ness, is intrinsic. That I start with that, just by being, existing. And that then my actions, my capabilities are okay and good enough by extension, and not treating the whole matter the other way around. Until now, I have spent most of the time judging whether I’m okay as a mom (or student, or woman, or person) based on my actions. And that just leads to a lot of harsh judgment. Kind of like what I read once about love. If you are constantly trying to decide whether someone loves you enough based on their actions, you’re going to constantly be either doubting or disappointed. They will always fail you in some way. Instead, if you start with the assumption that they love you, then you are free to look for all the other reasons that he didn’t bring you flowers or she didn’t get you that thing you like so much.

So, sleep is going to change somehow. We started last night by putting teeth brushing, face washing, and pajama wearing a bit early, and then all of us piling on the big bed in her room to quietly hang out until she got sleepy. So more wind-down for Baby A, less crying about being tired and having a diaper changed, and at least last night, a baby who fell asleep with 4 minutes of walking/swaying by me. That I can handle. We’ll see what else the books have to say.