January 23, 2009 - Friday
When my kid was a teeny tiny baby, and she screamed constantly, I was sure that she could be the spawn of the devil. What I remember most vividly from that phase was that everyone who has had kids told me that the colic was "the hardest part" and that it "gets easier after that." Those assholes were lying.
Lila is starting the "terrible twos" at 18 months. If this is any indication of what kind of relationship we will have when she is 14, I am seriously ready to bail out now. She has suddenly become more demanding and has learned (not from me) that if she can't get exactly what she wants at any given moment, that the best reaction is to throw herself on the floor and cry until she throws up.
And there is no substitute for what she wants. For example, if Lila decides she has to have animal crackers in her Thomas the Tank Engine cup, and her Thomas cup is at my mothers house she will not simply accept them in any other cup or out of a cup or even in a pile that she could swim in. She screams and writhes on the floor like she is on fire. And I hate to admit it, but I hate her when she does that. I have no patience for it. Last night I picked her up, put her in her room and closed the door, which is what everyone says I need to do when she gets like that. The theory is that without the audience she will either knock it off after a few minutes or tire herself out. Lila pounded her head on the floor and screamed and screamed. 20 minutes later she was still crying and when I went in, she was like a feral animal and faught my attempts to calm her down. I started crying and Ben took over and managed to get her to relax with a bottle (yeah, I know).
She does this at least once or twice a day and it isn't just with me. She pulls that shit at my mothers house too, but the difference is that Grandma will just give in and let her have whatever it is that she wants so that she will stop crying. I tell her this isn't helping but she says it isn't her job to discipline.
Here's the thing. I have been a reluctant mother from the start. It's hard to admit that because society tells me that it makes me some kind of awful person. But I don't believe it's that unusual. I look back at my childhood from my newfound perspective and see that same exasperation on my mother's face, and although she would NEVER admit it, I know that she often felt like running away too.
It's impossible to describe the mixture of feelings that I have. I love her. She is cute and brilliant. It is fun watching her learn new things and I want to tell everyone every time she makes me proud by recognizing a picture of Elvis or bobs her head and tries to make the goat horns when Led Zepplin comes on the radio. But those things are broken up by these truly AWFUL bouts of what I would call PURE EVIL and I just want to be left alone...for days or weeks maybe.I don't know.
There is no advice that can help this because I have tried all the angles. Apparently I just have to ride this phase out, right? But then what about the next awful phase?
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Terrible One and a Halfs
December 14, 2008 - Sunday
Now that Lila is spending a considerable amount of time with her Grandma and Ben because I am working, I no longer have 24 hour control over her. I am finding that my kid is turning into that asshole kid that I was absolutely adamant not to have.
We went to the grocery store yesterday and as I saw all the other young children sitting quietly in their prospective shopping carts, my kid proceeded to scream, kick, cry and grab at every item that came within 3 feet of her. She yelled for balloons, for meat, to get down and even for the signs hanging from the ceiling demanding to me, "GO GET".
The reason my kid behaves like that is NOT just because she is at that age. The reason that my kid is like that is because all the other adults in her life seem to think that the best way to get her to behave in the grocery store (or Target, or at the mall) is to give her whatever she asks for to play with, and Ben even lets her get out of the cart and run around. I mostly blame ben.
I dont believe I need to explain to you all why this is not okay. But apparnetly Ben doesn't see the danger of a kid who will suddenly be old enough to out run him, or grab things off the shelf and break them, or get hurt in an insanely busy grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. Ben also doesn't see why she can't play with pennies (choking factor) chew on crayons (he says they're non-toxic) or climb up our bookcase (it's anchored to the wall after all). Ben cannot conceive that what he is doing is laying the groundwork for how she is going to act in the future. She will not behave out in public. She will run around with crayons, pencils, pens, in her mouth and fall and stab her brain. She will think it is okay to climb up on anything and pull something onto her.
Maybe it's a dad thing. Maybe it's only mothers who foresee the worst possible outcome and decide that they must protect the kid at all costs, even if it means that they cry and beg to do what they want. Perhaps dads cannot think far enough ahead to predict that she is going to be an asshole who has no boundaries. Maybe this is normal. Maybe I need to quit my job (which I love) and go back to being the 24 hour gate keeper so that she can know that there are rules and that she cannot under any circumstances do whatever she wants. Because although I have told both Grandma and Ben what the rules need to be, I am finding that they both subsccribe to the "just keep her happy" method of childcare with no regard to the fact that at her age she should not be deciding what the rules are.
I want to have a polite, functional and NORMAL kid. I want her to know what is and is not allowed. Even if she has to test the limits to learn this. Even if she has to throw tantrums and cry and think it's the end of the world because she can't have a balloon. Because what I do know is that when my kid turns out to be that asshole, no one is going to say "It's her Dad's (or Grandma's) fault for spoiling her." The concensus will be that Lila's mother did a shitty job of raising her.
Shit. My kid is turning into an asshole.
On a seperate and totally unrelated note:
My parents have officially moved out of my childhood home. Ther neighborhood has long been on the decline and they had to get out of there as stabbings and armed home invasions were becoming the regular around there. They purchased a nice 2 family house with my aunt and uncle in Solvay. My mom loves it.
Here's the thing. somehow I am so emotionally retarded that I cannot actually acknowledge it in real life. In the several weeks leading up to the move, I never once mentioned it. I never wanted to go see the new house. I wouldnt even offer to leave work early to pick up Lila in the days leading up to the move so that my mom could pack, simply because I would have to acknowledge it. Yesterday Ben helped them move. I was going to stop by to see how it was going and maybe help out a little, but I got half way there and decided that I could not bear to see my old room empty. So I went home. I know that I should go to my mom's new house and help out however I can. Maybe bring over dinner. I know that's what a grown up would do. But I just can't emotionally deal. It's ridiculous, I know.
Now that Lila is spending a considerable amount of time with her Grandma and Ben because I am working, I no longer have 24 hour control over her. I am finding that my kid is turning into that asshole kid that I was absolutely adamant not to have.
We went to the grocery store yesterday and as I saw all the other young children sitting quietly in their prospective shopping carts, my kid proceeded to scream, kick, cry and grab at every item that came within 3 feet of her. She yelled for balloons, for meat, to get down and even for the signs hanging from the ceiling demanding to me, "GO GET".
The reason my kid behaves like that is NOT just because she is at that age. The reason that my kid is like that is because all the other adults in her life seem to think that the best way to get her to behave in the grocery store (or Target, or at the mall) is to give her whatever she asks for to play with, and Ben even lets her get out of the cart and run around. I mostly blame ben.
I dont believe I need to explain to you all why this is not okay. But apparnetly Ben doesn't see the danger of a kid who will suddenly be old enough to out run him, or grab things off the shelf and break them, or get hurt in an insanely busy grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. Ben also doesn't see why she can't play with pennies (choking factor) chew on crayons (he says they're non-toxic) or climb up our bookcase (it's anchored to the wall after all). Ben cannot conceive that what he is doing is laying the groundwork for how she is going to act in the future. She will not behave out in public. She will run around with crayons, pencils, pens, in her mouth and fall and stab her brain. She will think it is okay to climb up on anything and pull something onto her.
Maybe it's a dad thing. Maybe it's only mothers who foresee the worst possible outcome and decide that they must protect the kid at all costs, even if it means that they cry and beg to do what they want. Perhaps dads cannot think far enough ahead to predict that she is going to be an asshole who has no boundaries. Maybe this is normal. Maybe I need to quit my job (which I love) and go back to being the 24 hour gate keeper so that she can know that there are rules and that she cannot under any circumstances do whatever she wants. Because although I have told both Grandma and Ben what the rules need to be, I am finding that they both subsccribe to the "just keep her happy" method of childcare with no regard to the fact that at her age she should not be deciding what the rules are.
I want to have a polite, functional and NORMAL kid. I want her to know what is and is not allowed. Even if she has to test the limits to learn this. Even if she has to throw tantrums and cry and think it's the end of the world because she can't have a balloon. Because what I do know is that when my kid turns out to be that asshole, no one is going to say "It's her Dad's (or Grandma's) fault for spoiling her." The concensus will be that Lila's mother did a shitty job of raising her.
Shit. My kid is turning into an asshole.
On a seperate and totally unrelated note:
My parents have officially moved out of my childhood home. Ther neighborhood has long been on the decline and they had to get out of there as stabbings and armed home invasions were becoming the regular around there. They purchased a nice 2 family house with my aunt and uncle in Solvay. My mom loves it.
Here's the thing. somehow I am so emotionally retarded that I cannot actually acknowledge it in real life. In the several weeks leading up to the move, I never once mentioned it. I never wanted to go see the new house. I wouldnt even offer to leave work early to pick up Lila in the days leading up to the move so that my mom could pack, simply because I would have to acknowledge it. Yesterday Ben helped them move. I was going to stop by to see how it was going and maybe help out a little, but I got half way there and decided that I could not bear to see my old room empty. So I went home. I know that I should go to my mom's new house and help out however I can. Maybe bring over dinner. I know that's what a grown up would do. But I just can't emotionally deal. It's ridiculous, I know.
Friday, April 11, 2008
A strange kind of deprivation
I deprive myself of basic things that most people don’t think twice about. I tell myself that I deprive myself because money is tight. Or it just isn’t necessary. But I would LOVE to stop wearing maternity pants and have some clothes that fit me. Or Bras, or moisturizer that promises beautiful skin or makeup that hides my dark undereye circles. These are not necessarily luxuries. I mean, if I lived in the slums in South America , I would hardly be worried about these things, but they are not the same as $500 shoes or a $10,000 piece of jewelry. But then I think they kind of are.
Every day I choose between deprivation and indulgence. I seem to choose indulgence only when the reward is fleeting, like having a $15 lunch. If I told Ben that I needed some cash for bras that fit my post-baby boobs, he would surly help me out. But I would rather not ask him, and then spend the rest of my day feeling bitter that I can’t go out and get them. Not being fully exposed, nipples and all, every time the kid yanks on my neckline is not really something that I should feel is an indulgence. As that one comedian said “How can ‘instantly improve vision’ not be at the top of your priorities?” And yet, it isn’t. So obviously silly and yet so true. It just isn’t.
It is a strange “neurotic deprivation” and I want to know why I do it.
When I was younger my mother never needed anything fancy. She used generic maxi pads. She used whatever lotion happened to be in the house. She bought pantyhose and earrings at the dollar store. She was not a fancy woman. And yet, every so often, I would hear her arguing with my father and saying things like “Can’t I just have anything nice?...Don’t I deserve something special once in a while?”
I never understood this. We were not poverty stricken. Money was tight but we always had a roof and food and enough to have fun outings. My mother worked and would take me shopping when she got paid and spend ridiculous amounts of money on clothes and toys that would only see daylight once or twice.
I used to call her “the martyr”- always making sacrifices just so that she could complain about them and have everyone feel that she was a Goddamned hero. It made me crazy. I used to drag her into the Women’s clothing sections of fancy department stores and try to force her to spend $30 on a shirt. But she acted just as happy with a $10 one from Kmart….most of the time…
But then there would be a stressful day or my dad would forget Mother’s Day (again) and my mother would get hysterical and I would see that she felt deprived. True, it was often her choice to live like that. In the moment, she felt that she would rather take care of us than take care of herself. But wasn’t she entitled to her own care? If she always gave up nice stuff so that we could have things, who was giving things up for her?
But in truth, it’s deeper than this. I could see it all the time. She walked around like she didn’t deserve to have nice things. Because it was us or her. And we always won. But then she somehow knew that she did. She felt like she was missing out. All the time. She didn’t take care of herself because she had no pride in herself, she showed her pride through me. She loved me more than herself. And even more so she just didn’t give herself things. My Dad wasn’t going to do it. Why didn’t she realize this sooner? Why did she sit around waiting for someone to do it for her?
Is this the curse of motherhood for me?
Am I just doing what I think “being a mom” is all about? Deprivation, resentment and finally reaching a breaking point? Do I think I have to prove my love by not caring about myself? Or is it more than this even?
Because I think it is.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Blind Dates and the horrors of the MOMMIE friends
I feel like a total dork. Ever since someone planted the idea that making new friends is like dating, it has stuck and now I keep thinking what a total idiot I am sometimes.
I have known since about 2001 that what I really needed was to reach out and make some new friends. Not that my old friends were bad or anything, but they were old friends. They had moved across the country or gotten real jobs or grown up and over me and I still called them my bestest friends. But something about having a kid made me realize that maybe my long-distance email myspace yahoo facebook selenaland contacts weren't really working for me anymore. Maybe it's because spending too much time in my own head is bad, but attempting to spend time in the head of an infant is really really bad. Besides the fact that I have no idea what I am doing as a mom and I believe that I am doing everything wrong, I also spend too much time not knowing how to entertain a baby. I just knew that I needed some perspective. So my "friend dating" life began.
I was determined to find some kind of "Mommie and Me" group. I joined meetup.com and after joining several of them, managed to make it to one meeting in a month. It was nice. We had coffee. Their kids were all cute. But did I feel that "magic" with any of the moms? No. I decided I was content just to get out of the house, and if once and a while I got a meal out of it, then awesome. Man, I felt like I was dating boring IT guy again.
I read some of the profiles of the other moms. Blah Blah Blah...Married...blah...LOVE HAVING BABIES...Blah blah...Manicures and fashion and shopping addiction...and on and on. Not really interested. A couple of the moms and I exchanged some emails. It went no where.
Then today I had a good "Date". It was her that referred to it as a "Blind date" and I appreciated the humor in that. See how fucking insane I have become? But here's the important thing: I finally met another mom who doesn't get her nails done...Who admits to being medicated during (two of them) her pregnancy. She calls her kids demons (one of them) and totally knows that when I say Lila is the Spawn of Satan that it only means that I adore her. We hung out at the bookstore and talked about things. It feels so good to just connect with someone out here. I admit, I didnt realize how bored and miserable I had become (become????Hahahahahaha).
It's sad that I feel all happy like I would if I went on a good date. Seriously. Just to have a mom friend is a very exciting prospect for me. And to have one that is actually not a soccer mom is quite a find out in these parts.
I have become the lamest dork in the universe and it's all because I had a kid.
I have known since about 2001 that what I really needed was to reach out and make some new friends. Not that my old friends were bad or anything, but they were old friends. They had moved across the country or gotten real jobs or grown up and over me and I still called them my bestest friends. But something about having a kid made me realize that maybe my long-distance email myspace yahoo facebook selenaland contacts weren't really working for me anymore. Maybe it's because spending too much time in my own head is bad, but attempting to spend time in the head of an infant is really really bad. Besides the fact that I have no idea what I am doing as a mom and I believe that I am doing everything wrong, I also spend too much time not knowing how to entertain a baby. I just knew that I needed some perspective. So my "friend dating" life began.
I was determined to find some kind of "Mommie and Me" group. I joined meetup.com and after joining several of them, managed to make it to one meeting in a month. It was nice. We had coffee. Their kids were all cute. But did I feel that "magic" with any of the moms? No. I decided I was content just to get out of the house, and if once and a while I got a meal out of it, then awesome. Man, I felt like I was dating boring IT guy again.
I read some of the profiles of the other moms. Blah Blah Blah...Married...blah...LOVE HAVING BABIES...Blah blah...Manicures and fashion and shopping addiction...and on and on. Not really interested. A couple of the moms and I exchanged some emails. It went no where.
Then today I had a good "Date". It was her that referred to it as a "Blind date" and I appreciated the humor in that. See how fucking insane I have become? But here's the important thing: I finally met another mom who doesn't get her nails done...Who admits to being medicated during (two of them) her pregnancy. She calls her kids demons (one of them) and totally knows that when I say Lila is the Spawn of Satan that it only means that I adore her. We hung out at the bookstore and talked about things. It feels so good to just connect with someone out here. I admit, I didnt realize how bored and miserable I had become (become????Hahahahahaha).
It's sad that I feel all happy like I would if I went on a good date. Seriously. Just to have a mom friend is a very exciting prospect for me. And to have one that is actually not a soccer mom is quite a find out in these parts.
I have become the lamest dork in the universe and it's all because I had a kid.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Book burning party at my place
OH MY GOD!!! I swear that I am burning all my parenting books. All 1,759 of them (give or take).
I am tired of comparing my kid to the "normals". So she doesn't crawl yet. She is extra good at manipulating adults to bring her where she needs to go. So she won't sit still and eat 3 solid food meals a day. She is smart enough to know that lounging back on mom's lap having her bottle held for her leaving her hands free to pull the strings on mom's pajama bottoms is, by far, a better use of time.
I am also over the advice about sleep training (aka passive-aggressive child abuse) because none of the so-called experts bother to explain that when you get one area under control (like now my kid will go to bed easily at night) another ridiculous problem creeps up in its place (she now wakes up at 5:30 am ready to go).
I refuse to be held captive by the "experts" anymore. I am only listening to other moms. And not just any other moms. The ones who go on and on about how their kid started sleeping through the night at 2 weeks old and never went back can suck it. I am determined to find mom friends who had terrible children who made them question if there wasn't some one night stand with Satan that she forgot about which could have led to such a completely wild (seemingly evil) baby.
I WORSHIP the written word. It is my comfort and my friend. I would never hurt it because it has gotten me through some tough times. But the parenting books are going up in flames because I'm convinced that reading them is good for NOBODY.
I am tired of comparing my kid to the "normals". So she doesn't crawl yet. She is extra good at manipulating adults to bring her where she needs to go. So she won't sit still and eat 3 solid food meals a day. She is smart enough to know that lounging back on mom's lap having her bottle held for her leaving her hands free to pull the strings on mom's pajama bottoms is, by far, a better use of time.
I am also over the advice about sleep training (aka passive-aggressive child abuse) because none of the so-called experts bother to explain that when you get one area under control (like now my kid will go to bed easily at night) another ridiculous problem creeps up in its place (she now wakes up at 5:30 am ready to go).
I refuse to be held captive by the "experts" anymore. I am only listening to other moms. And not just any other moms. The ones who go on and on about how their kid started sleeping through the night at 2 weeks old and never went back can suck it. I am determined to find mom friends who had terrible children who made them question if there wasn't some one night stand with Satan that she forgot about which could have led to such a completely wild (seemingly evil) baby.
I WORSHIP the written word. It is my comfort and my friend. I would never hurt it because it has gotten me through some tough times. But the parenting books are going up in flames because I'm convinced that reading them is good for NOBODY.
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