Friday, May 15, 2009

Three Lite

This morning was my version of a perfectly successful day thus far. I had made plans to meet a friend at the park, and keeping that in mind, set about my morning with a purposefulness that is only inspired by prior planning. Decided not to try and convince the Boy that it was still "sleepytime", which is my usual tired mama m.o.. Instead, we got up and got the show on the road. Said show meant a shower, breakfast, packing up the diaper bag and all the other things a mom's gotta do to get out the door. In retrospect, okay, I did forget the wipes, but it all worked out.

Sometimes making plans is less about being social and more about just getting out the door. I think I'm like a lot of mothers who, left to their own devices, would try to get 'just one more thing' done before leaving. We are a little like toddlers that way, easily distracted into forgetting our larger goals.

I was thinking more about the whole ages 2 and 3 thing last night. Once again, my most-hated phrase "Terrible Twos"...whoever coined this moniker was incredibly shortsighted. When I hear parents in public loudly lamenting about their toddler's newfound independent personality, I just want to lean over and whisper, "Buckle up, my friend. If you are challenged now, just you wait."

Fellow parents, Age 2 is a training ground. I'm not talking about your kids...although we seem to try to start a lot of "training" at this age. No, I'm talking about what happens with parents around the later part of the toddler stage and on into early preschool--and possibly beyond. Two is where we adults--set in our ways, thinking that our job is to parent the growing child-- have to grow up a bit. We talk a lot about growing our children up right, but how about growing ourselves into parents? Many of us were physically done growing when we had our kids, and that was a good start, but what about becoming more developed in other areas? Our children need us stretch a little, to become more flexible in how we live with them. Our ways are not necessarily our child's ways, and seeing their point of view, especially in times of stress or transition, requires us to expand our view from a key player to an observer.

I say this because I've noticed that, when I take my "self" out of the picture and try to see a situation from more of a bird's eye view, I find myself closer to finding the answers that I need to help us come to some sort of resolution that works for everyone.

But back to Two. Two is where we start to stretch and exercise those new "parenting a creature who believes they are autonomous and invincible" muscles. And it hurts, sometimes. We need our friends to rub our backs. We sometimes seek resources like counselling or classes as a balm, the way I go to my chiropractor, to help things get back into balance. Age Two conditions us for Three.

And what a time Three will be. On our good days, our now-amazingly-verbal kids will not suck us into their arguments. They will wheedle and cajole us and whine us to the nth degree to get what they want, and we will calmly say "I know you really want more cheese. I already said you can have one tomorrow. I'm all done talking about it. You can keep asking, if you want to, but I'm all done." And on our good days, we will stay all done. On our bad days, we will hate cheese and wonder why, on a planet that has more foods than we can believe, our kids only want to eat something that will make them constipated. And then we we will say something like "No, I said, no more cheese because it makes your poop hard." Then, two days later, or two weeks later, you'll be out in public and your three year old will say very calmly to some nice person, "No, no more cheese. It makes my poop hard."

Your three year old will probably also say 'poopyhead' and 'fart' and a whole cornucopia of words that will make strangers wonder if you've been raising your child in a frat house.

Three year olds are the royalty of "Why?". And just because you said so isn't really going to cut it. Even if it eventually worked for your parents, it was most likely because their faces were red with repressed anger when they said it and you knew that a spanking was just around the corner. Enter the Kinder, Gentler, More Enlightened age of raising a kid, where we know that our kids are just being conversational or they are wanting to learn. It takes a few slow deep breaths to realize that "why" is not always a challenge to our personal authority, and more because our kids are starting to become thoughtful about why they do what they do, and why they should do something that they perhaps do not want to do.

It's funny how easily affronted we become when our little ones ask the same questions our spouses do. Surely, when our partners in parenting ask us why we are doing something or another, we do not feel compelled to give a somewhat rude, authoritarian answer. That's not to say that "because I asked you to" is a bad reply, but I shy away from making it a first reply. It's more of a "well, my dear, I've given you a few reasons and now I'm really needing you to just do it". Once again, not getting sucked into the long, drawn out discussion, but keeping our cool and expecting some cooperation at this point, the "because I need you to" is a final answer.

I like being respectful with little kids. They respond to it so well.

My challenge lately with my little guy is the same challenge I have with my big guy: we often want to be doing very different things. I want to change that stanky diaper and my son wants to play air guitar on the broom. When we're out, I want him to stay with me instead of wandering off and of course he wants to explore. Finding the best ways to bridge those gaps flexes the mental muscles and forces me to find that kernel of what's important in each moment. At one point earlier today, my wandering son was buckled into his stroller so that I could finish my sandwich in relative peace. After this wholesome repast was consumed, I unclipped him and turned him loose to wander with a watchful mama close behind. Near the duckpond he struggled and didn't want to hold my hand, so we sat down on the benches and enjoyed our drinks--we were close enough to see the ducks, yet he could be more independent.

It's all about finding balance. We all get stuck at times, or topple over, or find that we've got a cramp from using all those new parenting muscles, but it does get better. Hopefully, over time, we become more limber. We see the beauty of all the facets of our child's personality--how they are so tender with a pet or babies or flowers or their imaginary friends. How they can be so wild with a desire to explore and climb and have their adventures, an evidence of the exuberance of the human spirit. For toddlers and threes, every mountain, hill and chair is there for the climbing. Even if we said no a thousand times before, the child thinks "why is it there if not for me to experience?".

My little one is sleeping still, and I have lots of my own things to do besides rattle on philosophically. But I love little kids (and big kids too) and someone has to speak for them, a little. Mama Lorax, perhaps. I'm sure someone will think I'm plain crazy, and that's fine. I have a great time with my son, and to me, that is what matters most.

Thursday, May 14, 2009


"What's better than one nipple? Two nipples!"

Ah, Joe. He tells the Boy this as he changes his diaper. Boy is very interested in his little tiny faintly-colored nipples. I think Amanda posted that she didn't quite understand nipples on men. Easy...human beings are from IKEA. We're modular like that. Things pop out or pull in, depending on gender. No matter if you are fan of evolution or intelligent design, you can't argue with the practicality of the human body.

"Meow-meow-meow-meow---Who let the cat out? Meow-meow-meow-meow-meow---Who let the cat out?"

Joe, too. Now the Boy sings it, but he's changed it. "Let the baby out!" he says proudly.

For those of you who wonder why I rarely post (uh, Alisha!), this might be why. The busyness of life is no match for these moments of pure inane joy at being alive. Only a toddler could glom onto Daddy's silliness repeatedly, and I'm enjoying it. Only too soon Boy will be rolling his eyes and dying when Daddy says something silly.

I, apparently, have less good luck. Coming home from pizza tonight, Joe was chasing him and Boy was having a blast, shrieking and laughing. Along comes Mama, trying to run (yes, trying, Joe laughs every time I run, which is rare, and for good reason), and I say "I'm gonna catch you" in my ha-ha-happy voice, which causes my boy to look up and back at me, then back down, where he totally biffs it on the sidewalk and begins to cry.

Until a vision of loveliness appears in the form of our young neighbor. "Milena!" Off he goes again, goose-egg on the forehead rising to heights most certainly above regular facial sea level.

So I slink off to the basement to type this post. We are living in the Toddler 'Hood. I am a happy resident...I've gotten out of the car in the Toddler 'Hood, and bought a house. I refuse to be one of those "egad, Terrible Twos" parents, driving through this 'Hood with the doors locked and the windows rolled up. The Toddler 'Hood, where the saggy pants sport diapers hanging out over the top, "Fiddle-I-Fee" blares from the boom boxes, and the hooptie on the street is that humongous Graco Cadillac stroller that looks like it belongs on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. Where the grass grows a little too tall because, oh my gosh, when do we have time to mow? (or in Joe's case, take a weed whacker to it).

Yep, that's my life right now. Inane, possibly politically incorrect and absolutely silly in the most vocational sort of way. There's a reason I love toddlers. So, please, check this space---I might actually have posted.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Thank You, Neil Finn

Being the mother of a two year old, blogging seems like a luxury right now. What might I have been doing for the last month or so since I last posted? Well, Joe took a business/pleasure trip to England and was gone for a week. I couldn't tell you what I've done, because it's the "same old, same old", and all I can say is, some days we barely get by and some days it goes really well. We are in the throes of teething once again and I'm happy and exhausted.

My son is fascinated by music. The last few days have been great. I think this may be due to the fact that we have had a lot of music the last few days. On Saturday night we went to see our friends The Sons of Bernard play at It's a Beautiful Pizza on Belmont. The Boy was dancing all night, either with Joe or I, or on his own two feet. He watches the musicians play, and I think that I'll likely be buying earplugs during his teenage years.

I know that some of this is probably my influence, but "want Crowded House" is heard a lot around here. Two days ago, "Time On Earth" was played four times at his request. I love Neil Finn's music. It's been a lovely long time since I first saw Crowded House's "World Where You Live" video and was intrigued enough to also explore the Split Enz catalog. Brings back memories of high school and being unpopular and curling up with the Walkman, like so many of us privately did back then. When Crowded House toured for "Temple of Low Men", I took the opportunity to ask a guy I liked to go to the show with me. I can't even remember what I liked about him, but it's still a vivid memory of Roger McGuinn opening up the show and me thinking "The dude from the Byrds...How freaking cool is this?" (I'd have another experience like this many years later, watching Robyn Hitchcock and various friends play "Eight Miles High" at Doug Fir.) In years to come, every Crowded House and Neil Finn and Finn Brothers show always introduced me to a great opening act. Especially a few years ago, when the Finn Brothers toured with Angela McCluskey. Being able to tell her how much I appreciated her music was a treat.

But I've never had a chance to meet Mr. Neil Finn, and to tell him what a constant his music has been in my life. How much I enjoy it, how much it makes me think about certain little turns of phrase-- a line here, a cluster of words there. But I am grateful that my jazz-loving son, who knows how to ask for "Brubeck" or a few other cds, likes the music that is tenderly close to my heart. "Wants to", sings my son, "nobody wants to". We had fun, watching a Neil Finn concert video in bits and pieces for a few days, and the fun ended yesterday. Then today I was surprised to turn on the tv news and find the channel on OPB3--and there was Neil and the rest of Crowded House and my boy and I smiled at each other. He began nursing to soothe his sore mouth and I began singing to soothe my sore everything. Because it made me happy, and made him happy, and a happy mom is probably the best thing I can give to my son. We danced, we jiggled, we clapped and stomped. When it was over, I was gleeful.

How wonderful, music is. We come together in it, are encircled by it. I love that I have friends that can give my son some wonderful experiences, and I love that there are musicians that feel like friends to us, because they risk and put themselves out there and keep sharing that part of themselves with us. It's beautiful. So, thank you to everyone who has the urge to share something of themselves that uplifts us, no matter if it's music, or a great poem or book or artwork. Or a caring word or deed. And thank you, Neil Finn, for being one more person to inspire my son to be interested in music.