Geekydaddy and I are both social animals. In fact there was a time when we could have been described as party animals. We like to be surrounded by people, and have both always been part of a strong, close knit group of friends. In fact I thought long and hard before introducing Geekydaddy to my circle when we first were dating. Bringing a date into "the gang" meant that he was being seriously considered as a potential mate.
Since kids we have struggled to find time to hang out with our friends. Babysitting being expensive, and our time with the kids rather limited, we are not free to go out to meet our single or child free friends in bars and nightspots, and we never got into the habit of going out seperately on "boys nights" or "girls nights", outings are always with the whole gang. Throughout our lives we have always been open to forming new friendships, and indeed we did find some lovely new friends through Geekygirl. But recently we have been feeling a bit antisocial. Too tired to make new friends, too wrapped up in keeping up with the people we already know and care about. Then a mother from Geekboys daycare suggested we get together, and I found myself excited about potentially making a new mum friend.
Tonight we hosted geekyboys first 'playdate/dinner' with this friend from daycare. Now that our house is overrun with toys and their housewrecking owners, and the animals get groomed far less often than they ought to, so the floors tumble with hairballs, I am a little anxious about having new people over to the house. The new couch helps a little with my "do other people think we live in squalor?" fear, but still I was inspecting the tablemats for dog hair, picking up toys in a futile attempt to keep order as the children, delighted by "new toys" unearthed by my "display the more educational toys and hid the ones that came with the happy meals so as not to give the guests the wrong impression" rummage through the toy bins, thwarted my attempts to bring order to our home, and I was still swiffing under the table when the doorbell rang.
It turned out to be a lovely evening, I hope the first of many. I was surprised by how excited our little boy was to have a familiar friend come and visit, he was quite excited, running in circles and calling his name. The boys parents were easygoing and fun to talk to, drank wine (not a requirement for friendship, but something we have in common with most of our friends). They were quite happy for their son to join the activity that has become a post meal habit of our children at dinner parties, couch bouncing, and most importantly, were completely unphased and indeed amused, when our overly rambunctious dog and our son contributed a party trick designed to test out any new friendship.
After running laps of the lawn with various stolen items in her mouth, Geekydog must have eaten a bellyful of grass. I was watching our guest on the slide, when I turned to see Geekyboy dancing in his socks in a damp puddley spot on the patio. "Where did that water come from", i thought, realizing as that thought formed that what he was actually dancing so gleefully in was a puddle of grassy dog vomit.
Here's hoping that they still want to know us after this evening, because we really liked them!
How easy have you found it to make new friends since becoming parents?
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
opposition
Thanks so much for all the supportive comments and ideas.
We were back on an upswing in Geekygirls behavior when the seminar rolled around, The urgency for guidance had faded, and our babysitter was unavailable, but we asked our neighbor to sit in exchange for future favors, and decided to go anyway. I'm glad we did. First, the very fact that the small room was packed to the gills with parents at their wits end helped us to feel better about our own troubles. Then the lecture got underway, and as other parents chimed in with comments, queries, tearful pleas and terrifying tales we began to realize that many parents were in a far worse place than we were. Not that I take pleasure from others distress (though there were some quite amusing horror stories; entertaining to listeners at least), but it was nice to have our own situation put in perspective.
What we learned was that some kids are "oppositional learners". This means that when presented with almost anything you tell them they will automatically treat it with skepticism. They are not content with simply being told what to do, how something works, or how they should behave. If offered two choices they will negotiate for a third. They will poke and probe until they come to their own understanding. They test every theory they are confronted with until they are sure it is watertight. Then they accept, and move onto testing the next thing. We were reassured that there is nothing wrong with this, it is simply the nature of some children, indeed some people.
Hmm, sounds rather like a how good scientist behaves! Geekygirl is a study an contrariness. Tell her, as Geekdaddy did when asked the other day, that Minnie is the girl mouse and Mickey is the boy one, she will argue until she is blue that it is the other way around (despite the evidence of the pink spotty bow and high heels, and I'm pretty sure this is not just due to her San Francisco upbringing).
We learned that kids who trend toward this temperament need consistency and boundaries even more than other kids, since they are naturally inclined to push and push and push until the boundaries fall or they are sure that they will hold. And if the boundaries do fall, they find more places to push, and then get unhappier and more wild in the process, since their world is unable to give them the security that they really need. We also learned that kids need to be different from their parents, that it is part of forming their own identity, so we need to give the lots of opportunity to make their own choices, and sometimes to challenge us and win.
I brought up our problem of Geekygirl screaming through time out, and was given the revelatory idea that she maybe could scream all she wanted. That by giving her permission to scream it would take the power of it away. That some preschoolers just need to scream sometimes. They talked about how easy it is to get dragged into escalation of consequences. Time out is given, then on the way to time out the parent gets kicked (or called poo poo head), so the consequence is escalated until the parent and child are caught in a battle of wills and eventually the kid ends up being grounded for life at the age of four. There were a lot of nodding heads in the room as they described this, and they gave the excellent advice to just deal with the consequence of the first transgression. That what was important was holding the original line, "If you call me a poo poo head, then you get a time out". That way when your little opposer pokes away at the boundaries, she finds the rules holding firm. It was interesting that though they gave examples of consequences, such various forms of time out; in the bedroom, a corner, a chair,, taking toys away, not earning a reward or sticker, the emphasis was on picking a set of rules and consequences for your family and being consistent about it, rather than worrying about the details.
We also learned that kids in the preschool years really struggle to control their emotions, and that doing so is part of the developmental process of these years. And that by controlling our own emotions too tightly we fail to give them the cues they need to manage their feelings. Telling your kid to "use your words to tell me you are angry" doesn't help a kid who rarely sees a parent get angry. "What does she know, she has no idea how I feel" they might think. So getting angry is good, stomp, shout a bit, show your feelings so your kids learn how to do it too, we were taught. And do this before you throw a complete wobbly. WE often try to stay calm as parents, succumbing in the end to rage. It is better to acknowledge ones feelings as they occur, apparently! It sounds awfully unBritish, but it made a lot of sense to me.
We talked a lot about empathy. Reflecting back our children's feelings both during and after the event. That as parents for many of us the instinct is to think "thank goodness that's over" after a particularly horrendous tantrum, and never go near it again, when instead talking about it later helps kids to learn from an experience, and think about the feelings that overwhelmed them in a calmer, reflective way; "Wow, you were really angry when I told you you had to wear either the pink dress or the blue shirt and pants for school photo day. And Mummy was really mad because you hit her and called her a poo poo head while she was wrestling the adorable dress over your wailing head".
We came away from the class feeling much happier, a realization that our little girl will likely be quite a challenging kid to parent at times, and that there is nothing wrong with her being that way. We felt we had a strategy to implement, simply reinforcing more of what we do already. We also felt very much more on the same page, I was so glad that geekydaddy came with me, rather than just us trying to implement selective stuff I communicate to him from the books that I read we were able to discuss together what we had learned and feel as if we are both engaged in it. I was also secretly quite proud that he was one of only three men in the room of about 30 women.
I decided for starters that I am tired of being called poo poo head, and that from now onwards, that would be a "time outable" offence.
With my newly critcal eyes, I noticed in so many small ways how successfully Geekygirl has been controlling her world:
At dinner I asked, giving choices as I always do "do you want orange juice, chocolate milk, plain milk or water with your dinner?" Geekygirl replies "I want apple juice please". Normally, without a thought, I would have given her the apple juice, grateful for the 'please' (Clearly, based on the other choices, I'm not opposed to sugary drinks!). But I had begun to realize that almost every time I offered her a choice, she negotiated something else. I had let it slide, because my emphasis was on giving her choices. Something, I realized, that had lead to her almost never spontaneously being confronted with the word "no". "Oh, apple juice isn't one of the choices I offered, I said, and repeated the offerings. "Poo poo head" she countered. I have a kid who calls me 'poo poo head' when I offer her chocolate milk?! I thought. This most definitely wasn't about what she, chocolate milk lover extraordinaire, actually wanted to drink. It was all about getting her own way.
Time out was performed, (this being about the fifth time out of the day, the screaming was well out of her system), Geekygirl returned to the table, drank her chocolate milk and calm was resumed for at least the fifteen minutes it took to eat our salmon and pasta. I didn't rescind the offer of chocolate milk, though I felt like it. I just stuck to the rule. This post is long already, so I won't bore you with the rest of the evening's time outs. Just to say the "don't call mum and dad poo poo head rule" was tested very thoroughly, and was found to be unbreakable.
Geekygirl is trying to come up with new insults to hurl when she feels angry. I'm encouraging her to think of them, so far she has a satisfying "angry noise", and the petulant "I DON"T love you". When the issue is around a food item, no more cookies, no chocolate milk for breakfast, things in that vein, she has come up with the unintentionally poignant "OK then, I won't grow. Do you want me to stay small forever?!"
In case you think this was an awful day, I thought I'd finish the post with this lovely picture that Geekygirl and I made today (I cut out the clothing items from foam, she stuck them on and drew the picture). It was actually a nice day, on balance, just about a week long, in emotional terms. I think any art therapist would agree that this is the work of a happy child. Though if you look at her "writing", you can distinctly make out the word "Poos" on the top of the drawing! Chance? I sure hope so!
We were back on an upswing in Geekygirls behavior when the seminar rolled around, The urgency for guidance had faded, and our babysitter was unavailable, but we asked our neighbor to sit in exchange for future favors, and decided to go anyway. I'm glad we did. First, the very fact that the small room was packed to the gills with parents at their wits end helped us to feel better about our own troubles. Then the lecture got underway, and as other parents chimed in with comments, queries, tearful pleas and terrifying tales we began to realize that many parents were in a far worse place than we were. Not that I take pleasure from others distress (though there were some quite amusing horror stories; entertaining to listeners at least), but it was nice to have our own situation put in perspective.
What we learned was that some kids are "oppositional learners". This means that when presented with almost anything you tell them they will automatically treat it with skepticism. They are not content with simply being told what to do, how something works, or how they should behave. If offered two choices they will negotiate for a third. They will poke and probe until they come to their own understanding. They test every theory they are confronted with until they are sure it is watertight. Then they accept, and move onto testing the next thing. We were reassured that there is nothing wrong with this, it is simply the nature of some children, indeed some people.
Hmm, sounds rather like a how good scientist behaves! Geekygirl is a study an contrariness. Tell her, as Geekdaddy did when asked the other day, that Minnie is the girl mouse and Mickey is the boy one, she will argue until she is blue that it is the other way around (despite the evidence of the pink spotty bow and high heels, and I'm pretty sure this is not just due to her San Francisco upbringing).
We learned that kids who trend toward this temperament need consistency and boundaries even more than other kids, since they are naturally inclined to push and push and push until the boundaries fall or they are sure that they will hold. And if the boundaries do fall, they find more places to push, and then get unhappier and more wild in the process, since their world is unable to give them the security that they really need. We also learned that kids need to be different from their parents, that it is part of forming their own identity, so we need to give the lots of opportunity to make their own choices, and sometimes to challenge us and win.
I brought up our problem of Geekygirl screaming through time out, and was given the revelatory idea that she maybe could scream all she wanted. That by giving her permission to scream it would take the power of it away. That some preschoolers just need to scream sometimes. They talked about how easy it is to get dragged into escalation of consequences. Time out is given, then on the way to time out the parent gets kicked (or called poo poo head), so the consequence is escalated until the parent and child are caught in a battle of wills and eventually the kid ends up being grounded for life at the age of four. There were a lot of nodding heads in the room as they described this, and they gave the excellent advice to just deal with the consequence of the first transgression. That what was important was holding the original line, "If you call me a poo poo head, then you get a time out". That way when your little opposer pokes away at the boundaries, she finds the rules holding firm. It was interesting that though they gave examples of consequences, such various forms of time out; in the bedroom, a corner, a chair,, taking toys away, not earning a reward or sticker, the emphasis was on picking a set of rules and consequences for your family and being consistent about it, rather than worrying about the details.
We also learned that kids in the preschool years really struggle to control their emotions, and that doing so is part of the developmental process of these years. And that by controlling our own emotions too tightly we fail to give them the cues they need to manage their feelings. Telling your kid to "use your words to tell me you are angry" doesn't help a kid who rarely sees a parent get angry. "What does she know, she has no idea how I feel" they might think. So getting angry is good, stomp, shout a bit, show your feelings so your kids learn how to do it too, we were taught. And do this before you throw a complete wobbly. WE often try to stay calm as parents, succumbing in the end to rage. It is better to acknowledge ones feelings as they occur, apparently! It sounds awfully unBritish, but it made a lot of sense to me.
We talked a lot about empathy. Reflecting back our children's feelings both during and after the event. That as parents for many of us the instinct is to think "thank goodness that's over" after a particularly horrendous tantrum, and never go near it again, when instead talking about it later helps kids to learn from an experience, and think about the feelings that overwhelmed them in a calmer, reflective way; "Wow, you were really angry when I told you you had to wear either the pink dress or the blue shirt and pants for school photo day. And Mummy was really mad because you hit her and called her a poo poo head while she was wrestling the adorable dress over your wailing head".
We came away from the class feeling much happier, a realization that our little girl will likely be quite a challenging kid to parent at times, and that there is nothing wrong with her being that way. We felt we had a strategy to implement, simply reinforcing more of what we do already. We also felt very much more on the same page, I was so glad that geekydaddy came with me, rather than just us trying to implement selective stuff I communicate to him from the books that I read we were able to discuss together what we had learned and feel as if we are both engaged in it. I was also secretly quite proud that he was one of only three men in the room of about 30 women.
I decided for starters that I am tired of being called poo poo head, and that from now onwards, that would be a "time outable" offence.
With my newly critcal eyes, I noticed in so many small ways how successfully Geekygirl has been controlling her world:
At dinner I asked, giving choices as I always do "do you want orange juice, chocolate milk, plain milk or water with your dinner?" Geekygirl replies "I want apple juice please". Normally, without a thought, I would have given her the apple juice, grateful for the 'please' (Clearly, based on the other choices, I'm not opposed to sugary drinks!). But I had begun to realize that almost every time I offered her a choice, she negotiated something else. I had let it slide, because my emphasis was on giving her choices. Something, I realized, that had lead to her almost never spontaneously being confronted with the word "no". "Oh, apple juice isn't one of the choices I offered, I said, and repeated the offerings. "Poo poo head" she countered. I have a kid who calls me 'poo poo head' when I offer her chocolate milk?! I thought. This most definitely wasn't about what she, chocolate milk lover extraordinaire, actually wanted to drink. It was all about getting her own way.
Time out was performed, (this being about the fifth time out of the day, the screaming was well out of her system), Geekygirl returned to the table, drank her chocolate milk and calm was resumed for at least the fifteen minutes it took to eat our salmon and pasta. I didn't rescind the offer of chocolate milk, though I felt like it. I just stuck to the rule. This post is long already, so I won't bore you with the rest of the evening's time outs. Just to say the "don't call mum and dad poo poo head rule" was tested very thoroughly, and was found to be unbreakable.
Geekygirl is trying to come up with new insults to hurl when she feels angry. I'm encouraging her to think of them, so far she has a satisfying "angry noise", and the petulant "I DON"T love you". When the issue is around a food item, no more cookies, no chocolate milk for breakfast, things in that vein, she has come up with the unintentionally poignant "OK then, I won't grow. Do you want me to stay small forever?!"
In case you think this was an awful day, I thought I'd finish the post with this lovely picture that Geekygirl and I made today (I cut out the clothing items from foam, she stuck them on and drew the picture). It was actually a nice day, on balance, just about a week long, in emotional terms. I think any art therapist would agree that this is the work of a happy child. Though if you look at her "writing", you can distinctly make out the word "Poos" on the top of the drawing! Chance? I sure hope so!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Defiance
We had a challenging week. One small child shouldn't be able to cast such a pall on a household, but these past few days Geekygirl has had us vacillating between fuming with anger and falling into self doubting despair. Though I feel badly about highlighting Geekygirl's difficult behaviour back to back with swooning over Geekyboy's adorableness just a couple of posts ago, such is life with an eighteen month old and a three and half hear old. Geekygirl has her many, many moments of adorableness too, of course, but recently we have noticed her behaviour slipping, probably because our standards have slipped too. Exacerbated by a recent nasty cough and cold, and the associated indulgences of staying home and watching TV, and eating breakfast on Mummy's lap, a tiny demon seems to have possessed our oldest child.
Things came to a head this week, when, tired of our morning routine being disrupted by the new breakfast on lap habit, which leads to milk and cereal on my pants, a delay in getting out of the door since I am effectively disabled until she has finished eating three bowls of cereal, and to teeth marks on my knees from Geekyboys protest at his sisters preferential treatment, I finally vetoed "lap breakfast".
Geekygirl is not at her best in the mornings anyway, and this cruelty caused an unbelievable howling and caterwalling, thrown breakfast, a scratched brother, and a tirade of the worst three year old expletives, of which her father bore the brunt (poo poo head being a favourite, unfortunately echoed with great clarity now by her brother at inopportune moments).
Discipline in our house for large trangressions is the "naughty chair" for time out, or the forfeit of a favourite toy. I'm not a big fan of time out though, since I'm not convinced, philosophically , of its value, especially to kids who don't get enough of their mothers time in the first place. Quiet is required on the naughty chair, but when a category four tantrum has ensued, it can take ten minutes to get to quietness for the three minute time out, and time is precious in the mornings, so I tend to avoid using it in time sensitive situations. She has rather too many nice toys for the forfeit to be particularly effective, so I'm searching for an additional strategy.
This particular morning we decided that following through with discipline was more important than being late for work, and she eventually managed her time out, then had to return to finish the thrown breakfast, was still not dressed at way past leaving time and was then unable to choose an outfit, so I bundled her, screaming into the nearest dress, pushed on her shoes and carried her, wailing, down the stairs to be deposited in the car seat in Geekydaddy's car. Of course this was a morning that our neighbour was leaving at the same time, so I gave a wry smile in response to his "tough morning" and got in my own car leaving Geekydaddy to deal with the rest of the day's routine. Our neighbours have a boy the same age as Geekybaby, and have just announced the expectation of his sibling, so at least the noises from our house have not deterred them from further adventures in parenthood!
This week the tiniest things have led to breakdown point. A dress put on backwards? Try to help, I get railed at with tiny pounding fists, don't help and I have a naked child who won't get dressed. Answer "no" to letting her wear her ballet shoes to school? Tell she needs to get in her bath now, or in ten minutes, or that she must not drink her milk with her spoon? All hell breaks loose. We do give the kids lots of simple choices when we can, with the intention that sometimes they will then just do as they are asked, but this week that was apparently an impossibilty. Black is white and up is down in Geekygirl's world. I offer cuddles, she pushes me away, I leave and she wails for me to return. I know that this is the crux of growing up, separating from your parents, but also wanting them close, but when in the fray I find my resolve and confidence wavering. I'm beginning to understand Geekydaddy's warnings that he was kicked out of preschool for behavioural isuses, and any offspring of his would likely be difficult to raise.
I worry that with working parents the children don't get enough of us, (though I have heard rumor that parents who stay home do also have challenging times.) I feel guilty that I just want to come home to pleasant sweet, compliant kids who say please and thankyou, and always do as they are asked without challenging every word, (anyone know where they sell kids like this?!). The preschool teachers, saints in human form, are unphased by her behaviour and navigate the storms with quiet skill, reassuring us that this is part of growing up, and is quite usual behaviour for ids at this age. I'm just hoping that eventually this strong mindedness will pay off, when she refuses to get into cars with drunk drivers as a teen, founds a green energy company and solves global warming before her 25th birthday or doggedly uncovers a new law of nature against all prevailing opinions and wins a Nobel prize.
I'm a big reader of parenting books (my favourites are "hold onto your kids", "How to talk so kids will listen" and "the secret of happy children"), and have my own hodge podge parenting philospophy of helping my kids become self determining by giving them choices, giving specific feedback rather than vague praise, using sticker reward charts, and setting rules and being consistent. Something I reminded myself of this week was that kids do need to push against the boundaries and it is our job to keep the boundaries there. That noise and tantrums are going to happen if the boundaries are to hold. I don't like tantrums and conflict, and go to great lengths to ensure my kids are preemptively snacked before outings, and that they get their naps and enough sleep. I feel as if I'm failing somehow when faced with tears and resistance, when perhaps actually, thinking with a cooler head, I am actually succeeding. I reminded myself this week that kids don't actually want the rules to change, even though they want in that moment to have cookies for dinner and wear their princess costumes to school.
A case study from my own experience is that I had got into the habit of letting geekygirl watch "you tube" disney songs on my computer most evenings, against my own preference for limited TV watching, "giving in" depending on my level of tiredness and the persistence of her whining. Concerned about so much screen time, I was then was constantly battling with her to get it turned off. I made a new rule, videos only on Tuesday (geekydaddy's yoga night so I need the help) and Friday, since Fridays are for fun, and this bone of contention is now under control. Whining gets her nowhere, the rule holds fast, and she is getting pretty knowledgable about the days of the week. And the words to Bibbety bobbedy boo.
I recently read and enjoyed "the philosophical baby" by Allison Gopnick" which has an interesting chapter about young children and rules, suggesting that we are somehow adapted as a species for rule following, and that children understand rules from a very young age. They also soon understand that some rules are arbitrary and can be negotiated (rules like "videos only on Tuesday") and that some rules have a deeper truth and cannot be changed (rules like "you should not hurt other people").
In an effort to brush up our parenting skills and give us confidence to stick to our plans, and hopefully learn a few new tricks and ideas, Geekydaddy and I are going to attend a parenting seminar on "dealing with opposition and defiance" at a local child psychology center
I have attended far more classes on dog training than I have on parenting, and if the children can be brought up to the same standard of behavior of the dog; cheery affection with occasional selective deafness and opportunistic food stealing, I'll be thrilled.
How about you? Does your three year old overwhelm the mood of the family with the force of his or her emotions? what do you do? Help, support, and advice much appreciated!
Things came to a head this week, when, tired of our morning routine being disrupted by the new breakfast on lap habit, which leads to milk and cereal on my pants, a delay in getting out of the door since I am effectively disabled until she has finished eating three bowls of cereal, and to teeth marks on my knees from Geekyboys protest at his sisters preferential treatment, I finally vetoed "lap breakfast".
Geekygirl is not at her best in the mornings anyway, and this cruelty caused an unbelievable howling and caterwalling, thrown breakfast, a scratched brother, and a tirade of the worst three year old expletives, of which her father bore the brunt (poo poo head being a favourite, unfortunately echoed with great clarity now by her brother at inopportune moments).
Discipline in our house for large trangressions is the "naughty chair" for time out, or the forfeit of a favourite toy. I'm not a big fan of time out though, since I'm not convinced, philosophically , of its value, especially to kids who don't get enough of their mothers time in the first place. Quiet is required on the naughty chair, but when a category four tantrum has ensued, it can take ten minutes to get to quietness for the three minute time out, and time is precious in the mornings, so I tend to avoid using it in time sensitive situations. She has rather too many nice toys for the forfeit to be particularly effective, so I'm searching for an additional strategy.
This particular morning we decided that following through with discipline was more important than being late for work, and she eventually managed her time out, then had to return to finish the thrown breakfast, was still not dressed at way past leaving time and was then unable to choose an outfit, so I bundled her, screaming into the nearest dress, pushed on her shoes and carried her, wailing, down the stairs to be deposited in the car seat in Geekydaddy's car. Of course this was a morning that our neighbour was leaving at the same time, so I gave a wry smile in response to his "tough morning" and got in my own car leaving Geekydaddy to deal with the rest of the day's routine. Our neighbours have a boy the same age as Geekybaby, and have just announced the expectation of his sibling, so at least the noises from our house have not deterred them from further adventures in parenthood!
This week the tiniest things have led to breakdown point. A dress put on backwards? Try to help, I get railed at with tiny pounding fists, don't help and I have a naked child who won't get dressed. Answer "no" to letting her wear her ballet shoes to school? Tell she needs to get in her bath now, or in ten minutes, or that she must not drink her milk with her spoon? All hell breaks loose. We do give the kids lots of simple choices when we can, with the intention that sometimes they will then just do as they are asked, but this week that was apparently an impossibilty. Black is white and up is down in Geekygirl's world. I offer cuddles, she pushes me away, I leave and she wails for me to return. I know that this is the crux of growing up, separating from your parents, but also wanting them close, but when in the fray I find my resolve and confidence wavering. I'm beginning to understand Geekydaddy's warnings that he was kicked out of preschool for behavioural isuses, and any offspring of his would likely be difficult to raise.
I worry that with working parents the children don't get enough of us, (though I have heard rumor that parents who stay home do also have challenging times.) I feel guilty that I just want to come home to pleasant sweet, compliant kids who say please and thankyou, and always do as they are asked without challenging every word, (anyone know where they sell kids like this?!). The preschool teachers, saints in human form, are unphased by her behaviour and navigate the storms with quiet skill, reassuring us that this is part of growing up, and is quite usual behaviour for ids at this age. I'm just hoping that eventually this strong mindedness will pay off, when she refuses to get into cars with drunk drivers as a teen, founds a green energy company and solves global warming before her 25th birthday or doggedly uncovers a new law of nature against all prevailing opinions and wins a Nobel prize.
I'm a big reader of parenting books (my favourites are "hold onto your kids", "How to talk so kids will listen" and "the secret of happy children"), and have my own hodge podge parenting philospophy of helping my kids become self determining by giving them choices, giving specific feedback rather than vague praise, using sticker reward charts, and setting rules and being consistent. Something I reminded myself of this week was that kids do need to push against the boundaries and it is our job to keep the boundaries there. That noise and tantrums are going to happen if the boundaries are to hold. I don't like tantrums and conflict, and go to great lengths to ensure my kids are preemptively snacked before outings, and that they get their naps and enough sleep. I feel as if I'm failing somehow when faced with tears and resistance, when perhaps actually, thinking with a cooler head, I am actually succeeding. I reminded myself this week that kids don't actually want the rules to change, even though they want in that moment to have cookies for dinner and wear their princess costumes to school.
A case study from my own experience is that I had got into the habit of letting geekygirl watch "you tube" disney songs on my computer most evenings, against my own preference for limited TV watching, "giving in" depending on my level of tiredness and the persistence of her whining. Concerned about so much screen time, I was then was constantly battling with her to get it turned off. I made a new rule, videos only on Tuesday (geekydaddy's yoga night so I need the help) and Friday, since Fridays are for fun, and this bone of contention is now under control. Whining gets her nowhere, the rule holds fast, and she is getting pretty knowledgable about the days of the week. And the words to Bibbety bobbedy boo.
I recently read and enjoyed "the philosophical baby" by Allison Gopnick" which has an interesting chapter about young children and rules, suggesting that we are somehow adapted as a species for rule following, and that children understand rules from a very young age. They also soon understand that some rules are arbitrary and can be negotiated (rules like "videos only on Tuesday") and that some rules have a deeper truth and cannot be changed (rules like "you should not hurt other people").
In an effort to brush up our parenting skills and give us confidence to stick to our plans, and hopefully learn a few new tricks and ideas, Geekydaddy and I are going to attend a parenting seminar on "dealing with opposition and defiance" at a local child psychology center
I have attended far more classes on dog training than I have on parenting, and if the children can be brought up to the same standard of behavior of the dog; cheery affection with occasional selective deafness and opportunistic food stealing, I'll be thrilled.
How about you? Does your three year old overwhelm the mood of the family with the force of his or her emotions? what do you do? Help, support, and advice much appreciated!
Monday, September 21, 2009
How was your weekend?
A woman in my group left for maternity leave this past Friday. At our social hour as we discussed weekend plans, those of us with children reminisced on the births of their own kids with our pregnant coworker, then we coalesced on a conversational theme: What on earth did we do on the weekends before we had kids? We all agreed that we barely remembered "weekends before kids". But afterwards, I started winding my mind back in time.
We used to go out late in the evenings, to bars, concerts, restaurants, then more bars. We used to sleep late and then read the newspaper in bed, eat "brunch" at three in the afternoon at the latest trendy spot, lie around all day devouring novels or watching a marathon of movies. We used to read recipe books, shop and carefully cook meals to share with friends. We used to make huge jugs of Sangria and drink through them, talking and laughing about nothing for hours, to the irritation of our neighbours. We used to unwind, free to talk nonsense, or read rubbish without feeling the time trickling away, that every hour should be used for something purposeful.
We certainly never imagined of a weekend like the one we just had. A good one, but full to the gills. Here is what we did just on Saturday. We reveled in the luxury of sleeping in until 7.45, Geekygirl having drifted back to sleep between us after a chorus of "Mummy, Daddy, get up, it's the weekend" at 6.00am. We ate Geekydaddy's Saturday pancakes (blackberry and banana this week), squeezed in a few episodes of Dora the Explorer, a couple of loads of laundry, and about a quarter of the newspaper, then headed out to Nordstrom for our biannual foot measuring, shoe buying spree. I was determined this year not to be caught short by the first rain of winter with kids who only own sandals, but September's early storm surprised me. Next time, rain, we'll be ready.
Geekygirl loves to shop, especially for clothes. She doesn't often get the chance, since I tend to buy online (where she gets to point at the pictures on the screen) or on my lunchbreak (though she squeals in delight when she spots the distinctive red and white "Target" bags in the trunk of the car.) Her apparel shopping trait first reared its head at a previous weekends outing, to the aquarium, where instead of choosing a stuffed animal or game as her souvenir, she grabbed a pink T shirt. Then at the zoo on a subsequent weekend she chose a rhinestone giraffe necklace. I am always torn as to whether to enter the gift shop or whisk the kids swiftly past it. Usually we go in, part because I recall how much I loved gift shops myself as a kid, and indeed treasured the felted plastic animals I bought at the wild animal park and the costumed dolls I collected on our trips to Europe. In addition, Geekygirl is terrified of the automatic flush toilets at the zoo, and I have taken to rewarding her bravery in using them with something from the shop.
The museum trips are worthwhile though. As she skipped along Mission St towards the department store Geekygirl pointed to a banner advertising the aquarium said 'Mummy, look, there's a leafy sea dragon!" The distinctive creature was indeed being used as advertising. We were filled with parental pride in our tiny naturalist, and figured the price of admission and souvenirs was worth something if she retained some knowledge of the world.
Shoe shopping with two small children can be challenging, so we have a divide and conquer approach. Geekydaddy took geekyboy and the stroller up in the elevator, quickly getting his measuring and fitting. As usual only the widest shoe in the shop was appropriate for him, this established by thrusting the shoes onto his resistant kicking feet while he lay on his back howling, undistracted by the rather nice fishtank provided for soothing entertainment of the tiny clientele. Geekygirl and I braved the thrilling escalators, the kind that encircle a central atrium giving a birds eye view of the mall. I persuaded her to get her feet measured, and then to select some shoes from the appropriate size rack. With an eye for the swankiest items, she picked out a black patent Michael Kors ballet flat with a big rhinestone buckle. Cute with a party dress, sure, I thought, but not everyday wear. I sensed a otential battleground, but she conceded to try on some white maryjanes with sturdy pink translucent soles and luckily fellinstantly in love with them. Before anyone melted down or changed their minds, and with Geekygirl still wearing her new shoes, we tried to whip the kids out of the store. The department store has kids clothing too, and geekygirl slipped of in the direction of the clothes. She found a pink and orange tie dye jersey dress with a ruffled ra ra skirt and a peace symbol in multicolored sparkles on the front. It was on the sale rack, and was so adorable that we added it to the bill and whisked them out before anything else caught her eye. As we strided over the shiny checkerboard floors, past the glittering perfume counters and jewelery displays she glanced around and asked in awe, "Mummy, is this like a castle?!"
One marathon task achieved without too many tears or public displays of defiance, and it was barely 11.00am; rolling out of bed time in our pre kid existence. Our next obligation was a birthday party down on the Peninsula, and we were actually running early. The mall was not yet busy, so we let the kids run and slide on the marble floors and took them for french fries down at the food court. I was nursing a slight hangover myself, which was ridiculous since I had barely three glasses of wine the night before, but that is what kids do to your alcohol tolerance, and the fries were most welcome.
The birthday party was of the best kind, at a sunny contained park with water and sand features, small enough that the kids could not get out of sight and the adults, fellow parents from our daycare, could chat with each other between tending to childrens needs. Geekygirl's fear of public bathrooms is always close to the surface, but she bravely told me that she needed to go. When we entered the stall she said to me "Mummy, does it have a dramatic flush?!"
I realized that she meant "Automatic flush", but I like her version, from now on that is how I am going to refer those scary, splashy, unpredictable, attention seeking, over the top toilets!
We left the party before anyone reached the end of their tether, and the kids crashed out in the car. According to our carefully laid plan this gave us a chance to stop on the way back and get groceries, using the power of our iphones to map the closest Trader Joes. Geekydaddy sat in the car with the sleepers while I whizzed around the store, balancing more ambitious items (will I actually find the time to make home made chicken stew to restock the freezer for kids lunches?) with tantrum forestalling easy essentials (Spaghetti O's and frozen meatballs).
Home again, shopping to unpack, laundry to fold, dinner to make and to eat, kids to bathe and read to, then a couple of precious hours of DVD time before we take ourselves back to bed in the hope that sleep allows us to pull some kind of strength from the universe to do the same thing, or something similar, again on Sunday.
The difference between pre and post kids is that the weekends are so long and intense, for working parents like us they are crazed mix of precious family moments and the drudgery of keeping our lives ticking over. I guess we must rejuvenate from the demanding routine of the work week with the exuberant unpredictabilty of the weekends, and then recover from those the weekends by surrendering back to the pressures of work. Don't breathe too hard, or the house of cards may tumble down.
Thinking about those pre kid days makes me realize that we could use one of those pre kid style weekends every now and again, to help us recover from the actual weekend.
We used to go out late in the evenings, to bars, concerts, restaurants, then more bars. We used to sleep late and then read the newspaper in bed, eat "brunch" at three in the afternoon at the latest trendy spot, lie around all day devouring novels or watching a marathon of movies. We used to read recipe books, shop and carefully cook meals to share with friends. We used to make huge jugs of Sangria and drink through them, talking and laughing about nothing for hours, to the irritation of our neighbours. We used to unwind, free to talk nonsense, or read rubbish without feeling the time trickling away, that every hour should be used for something purposeful.
We certainly never imagined of a weekend like the one we just had. A good one, but full to the gills. Here is what we did just on Saturday. We reveled in the luxury of sleeping in until 7.45, Geekygirl having drifted back to sleep between us after a chorus of "Mummy, Daddy, get up, it's the weekend" at 6.00am. We ate Geekydaddy's Saturday pancakes (blackberry and banana this week), squeezed in a few episodes of Dora the Explorer, a couple of loads of laundry, and about a quarter of the newspaper, then headed out to Nordstrom for our biannual foot measuring, shoe buying spree. I was determined this year not to be caught short by the first rain of winter with kids who only own sandals, but September's early storm surprised me. Next time, rain, we'll be ready.
Geekygirl loves to shop, especially for clothes. She doesn't often get the chance, since I tend to buy online (where she gets to point at the pictures on the screen) or on my lunchbreak (though she squeals in delight when she spots the distinctive red and white "Target" bags in the trunk of the car.) Her apparel shopping trait first reared its head at a previous weekends outing, to the aquarium, where instead of choosing a stuffed animal or game as her souvenir, she grabbed a pink T shirt. Then at the zoo on a subsequent weekend she chose a rhinestone giraffe necklace. I am always torn as to whether to enter the gift shop or whisk the kids swiftly past it. Usually we go in, part because I recall how much I loved gift shops myself as a kid, and indeed treasured the felted plastic animals I bought at the wild animal park and the costumed dolls I collected on our trips to Europe. In addition, Geekygirl is terrified of the automatic flush toilets at the zoo, and I have taken to rewarding her bravery in using them with something from the shop.
The museum trips are worthwhile though. As she skipped along Mission St towards the department store Geekygirl pointed to a banner advertising the aquarium said 'Mummy, look, there's a leafy sea dragon!" The distinctive creature was indeed being used as advertising. We were filled with parental pride in our tiny naturalist, and figured the price of admission and souvenirs was worth something if she retained some knowledge of the world.
Shoe shopping with two small children can be challenging, so we have a divide and conquer approach. Geekydaddy took geekyboy and the stroller up in the elevator, quickly getting his measuring and fitting. As usual only the widest shoe in the shop was appropriate for him, this established by thrusting the shoes onto his resistant kicking feet while he lay on his back howling, undistracted by the rather nice fishtank provided for soothing entertainment of the tiny clientele. Geekygirl and I braved the thrilling escalators, the kind that encircle a central atrium giving a birds eye view of the mall. I persuaded her to get her feet measured, and then to select some shoes from the appropriate size rack. With an eye for the swankiest items, she picked out a black patent Michael Kors ballet flat with a big rhinestone buckle. Cute with a party dress, sure, I thought, but not everyday wear. I sensed a otential battleground, but she conceded to try on some white maryjanes with sturdy pink translucent soles and luckily fellinstantly in love with them. Before anyone melted down or changed their minds, and with Geekygirl still wearing her new shoes, we tried to whip the kids out of the store. The department store has kids clothing too, and geekygirl slipped of in the direction of the clothes. She found a pink and orange tie dye jersey dress with a ruffled ra ra skirt and a peace symbol in multicolored sparkles on the front. It was on the sale rack, and was so adorable that we added it to the bill and whisked them out before anything else caught her eye. As we strided over the shiny checkerboard floors, past the glittering perfume counters and jewelery displays she glanced around and asked in awe, "Mummy, is this like a castle?!"
One marathon task achieved without too many tears or public displays of defiance, and it was barely 11.00am; rolling out of bed time in our pre kid existence. Our next obligation was a birthday party down on the Peninsula, and we were actually running early. The mall was not yet busy, so we let the kids run and slide on the marble floors and took them for french fries down at the food court. I was nursing a slight hangover myself, which was ridiculous since I had barely three glasses of wine the night before, but that is what kids do to your alcohol tolerance, and the fries were most welcome.
The birthday party was of the best kind, at a sunny contained park with water and sand features, small enough that the kids could not get out of sight and the adults, fellow parents from our daycare, could chat with each other between tending to childrens needs. Geekygirl's fear of public bathrooms is always close to the surface, but she bravely told me that she needed to go. When we entered the stall she said to me "Mummy, does it have a dramatic flush?!"
I realized that she meant "Automatic flush", but I like her version, from now on that is how I am going to refer those scary, splashy, unpredictable, attention seeking, over the top toilets!
We left the party before anyone reached the end of their tether, and the kids crashed out in the car. According to our carefully laid plan this gave us a chance to stop on the way back and get groceries, using the power of our iphones to map the closest Trader Joes. Geekydaddy sat in the car with the sleepers while I whizzed around the store, balancing more ambitious items (will I actually find the time to make home made chicken stew to restock the freezer for kids lunches?) with tantrum forestalling easy essentials (Spaghetti O's and frozen meatballs).
Home again, shopping to unpack, laundry to fold, dinner to make and to eat, kids to bathe and read to, then a couple of precious hours of DVD time before we take ourselves back to bed in the hope that sleep allows us to pull some kind of strength from the universe to do the same thing, or something similar, again on Sunday.
The difference between pre and post kids is that the weekends are so long and intense, for working parents like us they are crazed mix of precious family moments and the drudgery of keeping our lives ticking over. I guess we must rejuvenate from the demanding routine of the work week with the exuberant unpredictabilty of the weekends, and then recover from those the weekends by surrendering back to the pressures of work. Don't breathe too hard, or the house of cards may tumble down.
Thinking about those pre kid days makes me realize that we could use one of those pre kid style weekends every now and again, to help us recover from the actual weekend.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
The cutest age?
I have a good friend who has a daughter the same age as my Geekygirl. Whenever we hang out we talk about our girls, and for the last three and half years, without fail, at some point in the conversation she says "you know, this is such a fun age". I pointed out to her once that she seems to have found all the ages her daughter has reached fun so far, which is a testament to her joy in parenting, but I think she has put her finger on what we all so love so much about this daunting journey; every age is fun in its own way (at least so far, check back when Geekygirl turns thirteen).
I'm prompted to write today about my Geekyboy, though, because he really is at such a charming age. He is nineteen months old, on that cusp of transitioning from baby to little boy. At the moment he is such a sweetheart, such a cheery soul, and I'm sure any minute now he will turn into a cantankerous, challenging toddler, so I want to capture in words these last days of his babieness, lest I forget.
With a first child, the future is so unknown, it is impossible to imagine your adorable chunky thighed, pliable baby become that lithe, wild haired three year old sprite you watch sassing her mother in the grocery store. But with baby number two (or three or four, I imagine), the future of that baby is there staring at you through the eyes of his older sibling. I started thinking about this after looking at a calender on my kitchen wall, made by my sister from pictures of our children. September has a picture of Geekyboy, aged about 8 months, captured perfectly in character, beaming from ear to ear in a swing. I remember that little baby so well, but he is so different now from that not so distant moment.
I starting writing this blog for myself, and for friends and family, but am delighted and surprised to have garnered the attention of other readers. I apologize to you for the self indulgence of the rest of this post, surely of interest only to my friends and his grandparents.
This is wonder that is Geekybaby:
He greets me with pure delight, every single time we are reunited after being apart. I have never felt so adored. (Though the dog does come close in enthusiasm) This weekend, when I can home from the store he held me close then said "Jacket. Off", tugging at it, expressing perfectly clearly with two words that he felt that once home, I should stay home.
He recently pointed to the correct figure in his "ten little ladybugs" book and said "eight"! Sure, he said 'eight" when he pointed to the number nine on the next page too, but still, he knows that some words are numbers, and recognizes that those symbols denote that number. I was pretty impressed with such a skill at 19 months.
And just when I started to be concerned that he would grow into an emotionally stunted mathematical genius, today at dinner he said to us "Happy!" with a big beam. We have just started to have him join us at the table instead of sitting beside us in his high chair, and he is so delighted to be part of the family. Watching him understand that feelings can be described with words brought a smile to our faces. This is one of the most amazing concepts in human development, and I could witness it a million times and still be awed.
He is a conversationalist, he doesn't yet have a whole lot to say but will try to engage you in a chat about the things he knows about, like the parts of one's face, by asking "Mummy, ears?", tugging on either mine or his own, or his favourite animated characters, Dora and Boots, by producing their plastic likenesses and bouncing them along your arm for an adventure. (I don't think Geekygirl had even seen TV at his age, but for better or worse, this one is a Dora the Explorer fan already)
He is a laugher, producing peals if turned upside down, tickled on the thighs, or otherwise manhandled. Happiness is his default.
He is musical, bashing a maraca or drumstick against every available surface in time to the "lion king" soundtrack that has to be played incessantly every minute we are home (entirely my fault, I actually owned the recording long before I had kids and played it for Geekygirl when she recognized the pictures on the cover).
He is a cuddler, Sumo wrestler style. On the rare occasion that I sit down for ten minutes he runs and belly flops onto me over and over, occcasionally knocking the wind out of me, and becomes most indignant when I insist that it is Geekygirl's turn for some mummy time (When having a second child I put a lot of thought into the older being jealous of the younger, but not the opposite scenario, which happens more often every day).
I find it hard to imagine that this petal cheeked, long lashed baby boy will ever turn into a bestubbled, hairy legged, deep voiced man. I just hope the inetervening time goes by slowly!
I went last week to see David Cook in concert (I know, American Idol winner, not exactly cool but it was at the Fillmore, the best venue in SF, and he is actually quite talented. Honestly) It was a great show, but I realized how my perpsective had changed when I found myself watching David, and the cute young men in the band, tattooed and wild haired, but yet somehow still wholesome, and thinking "I bet their mothers are proud of them". I started fantasizing that Geekyboy's emerging talent for drums might turn into a rock and roll career for him, and a new roll for me, "Rock Mummy".
I'm prompted to write today about my Geekyboy, though, because he really is at such a charming age. He is nineteen months old, on that cusp of transitioning from baby to little boy. At the moment he is such a sweetheart, such a cheery soul, and I'm sure any minute now he will turn into a cantankerous, challenging toddler, so I want to capture in words these last days of his babieness, lest I forget.
With a first child, the future is so unknown, it is impossible to imagine your adorable chunky thighed, pliable baby become that lithe, wild haired three year old sprite you watch sassing her mother in the grocery store. But with baby number two (or three or four, I imagine), the future of that baby is there staring at you through the eyes of his older sibling. I started thinking about this after looking at a calender on my kitchen wall, made by my sister from pictures of our children. September has a picture of Geekyboy, aged about 8 months, captured perfectly in character, beaming from ear to ear in a swing. I remember that little baby so well, but he is so different now from that not so distant moment.
I starting writing this blog for myself, and for friends and family, but am delighted and surprised to have garnered the attention of other readers. I apologize to you for the self indulgence of the rest of this post, surely of interest only to my friends and his grandparents.
This is wonder that is Geekybaby:
He greets me with pure delight, every single time we are reunited after being apart. I have never felt so adored. (Though the dog does come close in enthusiasm) This weekend, when I can home from the store he held me close then said "Jacket. Off", tugging at it, expressing perfectly clearly with two words that he felt that once home, I should stay home.
He recently pointed to the correct figure in his "ten little ladybugs" book and said "eight"! Sure, he said 'eight" when he pointed to the number nine on the next page too, but still, he knows that some words are numbers, and recognizes that those symbols denote that number. I was pretty impressed with such a skill at 19 months.
And just when I started to be concerned that he would grow into an emotionally stunted mathematical genius, today at dinner he said to us "Happy!" with a big beam. We have just started to have him join us at the table instead of sitting beside us in his high chair, and he is so delighted to be part of the family. Watching him understand that feelings can be described with words brought a smile to our faces. This is one of the most amazing concepts in human development, and I could witness it a million times and still be awed.
He is a conversationalist, he doesn't yet have a whole lot to say but will try to engage you in a chat about the things he knows about, like the parts of one's face, by asking "Mummy, ears?", tugging on either mine or his own, or his favourite animated characters, Dora and Boots, by producing their plastic likenesses and bouncing them along your arm for an adventure. (I don't think Geekygirl had even seen TV at his age, but for better or worse, this one is a Dora the Explorer fan already)
He is a laugher, producing peals if turned upside down, tickled on the thighs, or otherwise manhandled. Happiness is his default.
He is musical, bashing a maraca or drumstick against every available surface in time to the "lion king" soundtrack that has to be played incessantly every minute we are home (entirely my fault, I actually owned the recording long before I had kids and played it for Geekygirl when she recognized the pictures on the cover).
He is a cuddler, Sumo wrestler style. On the rare occasion that I sit down for ten minutes he runs and belly flops onto me over and over, occcasionally knocking the wind out of me, and becomes most indignant when I insist that it is Geekygirl's turn for some mummy time (When having a second child I put a lot of thought into the older being jealous of the younger, but not the opposite scenario, which happens more often every day).
I find it hard to imagine that this petal cheeked, long lashed baby boy will ever turn into a bestubbled, hairy legged, deep voiced man. I just hope the inetervening time goes by slowly!
I went last week to see David Cook in concert (I know, American Idol winner, not exactly cool but it was at the Fillmore, the best venue in SF, and he is actually quite talented. Honestly) It was a great show, but I realized how my perpsective had changed when I found myself watching David, and the cute young men in the band, tattooed and wild haired, but yet somehow still wholesome, and thinking "I bet their mothers are proud of them". I started fantasizing that Geekyboy's emerging talent for drums might turn into a rock and roll career for him, and a new roll for me, "Rock Mummy".
Thursday, September 10, 2009
first hike of summer on the last day of summer
We finally managed to get out and hike this labor day weekend. Hiking used to be a regular weekend activity for us, something we did without much thought or preparation, but two kids later this is quite a feat, involving two sturdy kid back packs, one dog back pack, and one good friend to walk said dog, and carry our lunches. We took a lovely trail along a winding creek, leading to an open meadow with a lake view. The Tahoe area has so much forest and open space to explore, it is one of the things I love most about California, so much unspoiled natural beauty.
The kids loved it, and even managed to walk quite a lot of the way, pretending to be "Dora", exploring, and picking up "magic rocks" comparing the textures of different tree bark and examining different types of animal poop. They were so sweet, sitting on jackets and enjoying their picnic lunch, pointing out birds and insects. Apart from the brief moment when Geekydog decided to attack a fellow hikers golden retriever, it was idyllic. What took us so long to get out like this, after all we go up to Tahoe almost every other weekend?
I was pondering this, when I realized it was part of a bigger question. One that I often get asked, as a parent of two kids close in age. "Does having two kids change your life in a way having just one doesn't?"
When I was planning for baby number two I asked other parents of two (or more) this question, and was surprised by how polarized the responses were. I heard either "One kid changes your life so dramatically that having another makes almost no difference" or "Two kids is so much more work than just one, it seems like more than double the effort"
I've formed my own opinion based on our experience and on observing others. I think that the impact of adding a second child depends on how much you changed your life for the first one. You see, when Geekygirl came into our lives we didn't make all that many concessions to parenthood. Long hikes in the Tahoe national forests in the summer? Buy a baby backpack and bring her along. Cross country skiing? Buy a "pulk" for her to be bundled up and towed in (weather permitting, of course). Downhill skiing? Take it in turns, one parent skiing, and one parent looking after the baby in lodge, the resorts even provide a "parent exchange" pass for this purpose. Conferences in Aspen or Washington DC? Bring husband and baby along. Even while pregnant with Geekyboy I was skiing, towing Geekygirl in that pulk, and hiking with the backpack.
So when Geekyboy arrived, we were expecting to carry on much the same. But gradually we noticed that this time there would be some significant lifestyle changes. Two kids in daycare is like having another mortgage (and we already have two mortgages), so our freedom to spend away on more hiking packs and ski trailers was curtailed. Also with one kid, the adults can take it in turns carrying the pack, but with two kids too small to hike far alone, and just two adults to carry, there is no one to share the load. With two adults and one child, long distance travel is not too hard, but with two little ones neither adult gets a moment of peace, and it gets expensive too. This did not stop us from taking the whole family to South Africa, mind you.
Thanks to the generosity of a co worker who gave me a hiking pack that his children have outgrown, and to our dear friend Stan who shouldered the 28lb burden that is geekyboy for a few miles, we finally got out to hike, and it was well worth it.
Now I just need to negotiate a good price on a second hand double ski pulk. And build up a little more towing strength before ski season!
The kids loved it, and even managed to walk quite a lot of the way, pretending to be "Dora", exploring, and picking up "magic rocks" comparing the textures of different tree bark and examining different types of animal poop. They were so sweet, sitting on jackets and enjoying their picnic lunch, pointing out birds and insects. Apart from the brief moment when Geekydog decided to attack a fellow hikers golden retriever, it was idyllic. What took us so long to get out like this, after all we go up to Tahoe almost every other weekend?
I was pondering this, when I realized it was part of a bigger question. One that I often get asked, as a parent of two kids close in age. "Does having two kids change your life in a way having just one doesn't?"
When I was planning for baby number two I asked other parents of two (or more) this question, and was surprised by how polarized the responses were. I heard either "One kid changes your life so dramatically that having another makes almost no difference" or "Two kids is so much more work than just one, it seems like more than double the effort"
I've formed my own opinion based on our experience and on observing others. I think that the impact of adding a second child depends on how much you changed your life for the first one. You see, when Geekygirl came into our lives we didn't make all that many concessions to parenthood. Long hikes in the Tahoe national forests in the summer? Buy a baby backpack and bring her along. Cross country skiing? Buy a "pulk" for her to be bundled up and towed in (weather permitting, of course). Downhill skiing? Take it in turns, one parent skiing, and one parent looking after the baby in lodge, the resorts even provide a "parent exchange" pass for this purpose. Conferences in Aspen or Washington DC? Bring husband and baby along. Even while pregnant with Geekyboy I was skiing, towing Geekygirl in that pulk, and hiking with the backpack.
So when Geekyboy arrived, we were expecting to carry on much the same. But gradually we noticed that this time there would be some significant lifestyle changes. Two kids in daycare is like having another mortgage (and we already have two mortgages), so our freedom to spend away on more hiking packs and ski trailers was curtailed. Also with one kid, the adults can take it in turns carrying the pack, but with two kids too small to hike far alone, and just two adults to carry, there is no one to share the load. With two adults and one child, long distance travel is not too hard, but with two little ones neither adult gets a moment of peace, and it gets expensive too. This did not stop us from taking the whole family to South Africa, mind you.
Thanks to the generosity of a co worker who gave me a hiking pack that his children have outgrown, and to our dear friend Stan who shouldered the 28lb burden that is geekyboy for a few miles, we finally got out to hike, and it was well worth it.
Now I just need to negotiate a good price on a second hand double ski pulk. And build up a little more towing strength before ski season!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Mustration
Geekygirl's preschool class are learning about feelings. She was telling me about it on the drive home.
"Mummy" she said, "Mustration is a kind of feeling"
"It is?" I replied. I love the stream of conciousness conversations we have in the car, and try to draw them out as much as I can.
"Mustration is like when you have a Cinderella neckalace, but you left it in the classroom, and you can't go back in the classroom to get it because the classroom is closed" she described.
Pretty impressed with this accurate rendition of a frustrating situation, I wondered if she was describing something that had actually happened. I asked "Were you playing with a Cinderella necklace today?"
This was met with indignation. "NO, Mummy, I"m just talking about something that might happen that might make us feel mustrated.
The idea that she is able to imagine such a detailed situation and relate it to a feeling just blew me away. I don't think we are paying these preschool teachers enough, because they are turning my baby girl into a precocious genius child.
I don't think I developed the ability to discuss my feelings (well, while sober) until I was about 35.
"Mummy" she said, "Mustration is a kind of feeling"
"It is?" I replied. I love the stream of conciousness conversations we have in the car, and try to draw them out as much as I can.
"Mustration is like when you have a Cinderella neckalace, but you left it in the classroom, and you can't go back in the classroom to get it because the classroom is closed" she described.
Pretty impressed with this accurate rendition of a frustrating situation, I wondered if she was describing something that had actually happened. I asked "Were you playing with a Cinderella necklace today?"
This was met with indignation. "NO, Mummy, I"m just talking about something that might happen that might make us feel mustrated.
The idea that she is able to imagine such a detailed situation and relate it to a feeling just blew me away. I don't think we are paying these preschool teachers enough, because they are turning my baby girl into a precocious genius child.
I don't think I developed the ability to discuss my feelings (well, while sober) until I was about 35.
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