We've reserved some vacation condos in a nearby town for a little trip over Labor Day. So far we've been turned down by my in-laws, my brother, my cousins and my brother-in-law to accompany us. Maybe I should change my deoderant?
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After I picked-up of the Little Man's room yesterday, I returned to it later and was shocked to see that I had inappropriately placed a lascivious blow-up giraffe behind the rocking horse. The giraffe had a big grin on its face and its tongue was sticking out. And the horse, he was smiling.
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My son decided that, of all the shoes in our closet, he needed to wear my beaded acid-green wooden-soled flip-flops this morning. As cool as they look, they are a bitch to walk in, and the Little Man agrees. After several attempts to walk and keep them on his feet, he screamed, plopped down on the floor, and promptly bit them on their beady green straps.
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Oh to be a cat. She's sitting on the cushion beside me, lounging. Eyes half-closed, paw extended, just touching my leg. Purrrrrring. She's all spotted, relaxed loveliness. She loves quiet evenings when the Little Man is asleep. Me too.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Monday, August 22, 2005
Is there a method?
On the Little Man's most devilish day of the past month, we went to my mom's house to pick up some tickets. The Little Man was an absolute terror. He hadn't had a proper nap, and was cranky and into every no-no he could think of. I was completely exasperated - my mom kept saying "put him down in the spare bedroom for a nap" and I kept assuring her that he wouldn't go for it. I did finally try and, as I predicted, he screamed and squirmed for 15 minutes until I relented and let him up to continue spreading gloom around the house. Pretty soon Mom said "Here, let me try," laid a quilt down on the floor and told him to lay down and not to get back up. And he didn't! He cried like his little heart would break for a complete 45 minutes, but he didn't once even TRY to get up from that quilt until his grandma gave him permission. I was amazed. Her answer to my astonishment was "He'll do what you expect of him. I expected him to stay there, so he did."
Days like that have inspired me to seek help with my parenting technique. Mom's all about the expectations thing, but, I ask, does anyone out there actually do this? It seems to work out for her, but I'm convinced that she emits laser beams of pure will from her eyeballs that make children behave- after all, I remember all to well having them directed at me during my childhood. However, there is something to the theory that if you think it can happen, then it can. So I've tried it in a couple of instances with the Little Man, to very limited success. Maybe I'm not expecting hard enough? Or my will lasers aren't calibrated properly? Eh, who knows.
Another friend swears by Love and Logic. Her sister's kids - on whom she bases her opinions - are very well-behaved, so I did buy a book. I started the book tonight and like the basic principles, but am unsure of my ability to execute. First of all, the suggested dialogue includes the word "bummer" in such quantities that I keep envisioning Shaggy delivering the lines after a particulary smoky session in the Mystery Machine.
Secondly, I'm not sure my temperament is well suited. One of the scenarios pictures the perfect Love & Logic parent calmly talking out solutions with her son to atone for cutting his sister's hair into a mohawk with the scissors. I keep trying to figure out how I'd peel myself off the ceiling long enough to calmly deliver the loving lines to my son. I haven't figured that part out yet.
As with most things, I'm sure I'll develop my own mishmash of a style eventually. I hope I get it at least partially down before I manage to screw my kid up too badly. And, just as a backup, I am going to keep working on those lasers.
Days like that have inspired me to seek help with my parenting technique. Mom's all about the expectations thing, but, I ask, does anyone out there actually do this? It seems to work out for her, but I'm convinced that she emits laser beams of pure will from her eyeballs that make children behave- after all, I remember all to well having them directed at me during my childhood. However, there is something to the theory that if you think it can happen, then it can. So I've tried it in a couple of instances with the Little Man, to very limited success. Maybe I'm not expecting hard enough? Or my will lasers aren't calibrated properly? Eh, who knows.
Another friend swears by Love and Logic. Her sister's kids - on whom she bases her opinions - are very well-behaved, so I did buy a book. I started the book tonight and like the basic principles, but am unsure of my ability to execute. First of all, the suggested dialogue includes the word "bummer" in such quantities that I keep envisioning Shaggy delivering the lines after a particulary smoky session in the Mystery Machine.
Secondly, I'm not sure my temperament is well suited. One of the scenarios pictures the perfect Love & Logic parent calmly talking out solutions with her son to atone for cutting his sister's hair into a mohawk with the scissors. I keep trying to figure out how I'd peel myself off the ceiling long enough to calmly deliver the loving lines to my son. I haven't figured that part out yet.
As with most things, I'm sure I'll develop my own mishmash of a style eventually. I hope I get it at least partially down before I manage to screw my kid up too badly. And, just as a backup, I am going to keep working on those lasers.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Career?
The Little Man has been an absolute angel the last couple of days. He's been very cute, and minding his mommy for the most part, and not throwing toys so much during temper tantrums. Though he did make a call from the lab tech's phone at the Dr's office this morning, at least he didn't start screaming when I took it away from him to tell the other party that it was "wrong number". In short, I'm having fun being his mom this week.
This is quite a pleasant shock, because last week he was such a little devil the days I was home that I was contemplating going back to work full time (obviously he behaves much better at daycare or else she'd have thrown his Imperialistic butt out months ago). I work 3 days a week (yes, for you mathematicians, the Snow Day we had Wed. did eat up a third of my working week, and yet I was glad for it!) and spend 2 days home with the little guy. I just returned to this schedule after a 6-month stint working 4 days a week because of loads-of-work-at-work reasons. And last week I was oh-so-regretting it.
This week I'm enjoying it to the point that I have false hope I could be a full-time stay-at-home mom if something happened to my job (the rumor-mill has been churning as of late . . .). I admire full-time moms because man, do they have their work cut out for them, but I doubt my ability to be a successful one. At least with my job I get to have entire workdays where I can actually concentrate on and complete one (or two) tasks, and get to have conversations with adults where my mind can truly be on the conversation. I can also base my self-worth on producing things other than a clean house and good meals, which I've never been any good at, and a well-turned-out child, which I constantly question my ability to do.
Always I wonder if splitting my time is just making me worse at everything. At my job presently I really have no career track - being part-time, I'm stuck at this level for the foreseeable future. And I'm not home with my son to see every milestone (he started waving bye-bye last week for the sitter, though I've been practicing this with him for months!). But then I know that work keeps me sane, and having extra days at home with the Little Man staves off the mommy guilt of being away from him, so I am always able to content myself that I'm doing the best I can.
And that's got to be enough, doesn't it? Constantly wrestling with this, constantly.
This is quite a pleasant shock, because last week he was such a little devil the days I was home that I was contemplating going back to work full time (obviously he behaves much better at daycare or else she'd have thrown his Imperialistic butt out months ago). I work 3 days a week (yes, for you mathematicians, the Snow Day we had Wed. did eat up a third of my working week, and yet I was glad for it!) and spend 2 days home with the little guy. I just returned to this schedule after a 6-month stint working 4 days a week because of loads-of-work-at-work reasons. And last week I was oh-so-regretting it.
This week I'm enjoying it to the point that I have false hope I could be a full-time stay-at-home mom if something happened to my job (the rumor-mill has been churning as of late . . .). I admire full-time moms because man, do they have their work cut out for them, but I doubt my ability to be a successful one. At least with my job I get to have entire workdays where I can actually concentrate on and complete one (or two) tasks, and get to have conversations with adults where my mind can truly be on the conversation. I can also base my self-worth on producing things other than a clean house and good meals, which I've never been any good at, and a well-turned-out child, which I constantly question my ability to do.
Always I wonder if splitting my time is just making me worse at everything. At my job presently I really have no career track - being part-time, I'm stuck at this level for the foreseeable future. And I'm not home with my son to see every milestone (he started waving bye-bye last week for the sitter, though I've been practicing this with him for months!). But then I know that work keeps me sane, and having extra days at home with the Little Man staves off the mommy guilt of being away from him, so I am always able to content myself that I'm doing the best I can.
And that's got to be enough, doesn't it? Constantly wrestling with this, constantly.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Snow Day
In July! Courtesy of a construction crew hitting a water main beside our building. As I work for a Web development company, no phones, no electricity and no Internet means no work for us. Well, ok, I did work most of the day from the comfort of my couch, but still, it's the THOUGHT of having a snow day that counts.
Finally, after months and months and MONTHS of putting up with annoying noise and dust and closed streets, the construction crews finally gave back a little to their neighbors. Thanks, guys!
Finally, after months and months and MONTHS of putting up with annoying noise and dust and closed streets, the construction crews finally gave back a little to their neighbors. Thanks, guys!
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Dancin' in the Rain
After days and days and days and DAYS of hot, hot summer, we finally had a lovely rainy day this weekend. Though I thought he was too young, the Little Man acted EXACTLY like the bored kid in the "Rain, Rain, go away" nursery rhyme. Finally I let him go outside, figuring after the first drops hit his precious little head he'd fold and want to head back inside. But no, he just stood there. Slowly he descended the steps to the driveway, loudly resisting any attempt to remove him back to the dry comforts of home. He held his little hand out to catch water in it, and touched everything to see how it felt, a look of wonder on his face the whole time.
Once he reached the driveway, it was full speed ahead to the garage doors! And Daddy's car! And the tree! And the little garden patch where hey! There's mud! And it doesn't taste so good. But it looks great smeared on Daddy's car! And then he danced in puddles with his mommy and laughed his little wet head off.
We had a gay old time for almost an hour while we investigated rain and got steadily soaked. Then the Little Man started shivering and I realized that the neighborhood was getting a free show through my white t-shirt, so we finally retreated to our dry house.
I really do love a good rainy day, and I'm so glad that the Little Man does too.
Once he reached the driveway, it was full speed ahead to the garage doors! And Daddy's car! And the tree! And the little garden patch where hey! There's mud! And it doesn't taste so good. But it looks great smeared on Daddy's car! And then he danced in puddles with his mommy and laughed his little wet head off.
We had a gay old time for almost an hour while we investigated rain and got steadily soaked. Then the Little Man started shivering and I realized that the neighborhood was getting a free show through my white t-shirt, so we finally retreated to our dry house.
I really do love a good rainy day, and I'm so glad that the Little Man does too.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Hot
The Little Man is learning words right and left. His most-used conversation starter is "S'Dat?", said in a very (calculatedly) cute, high-pitched voice. You would have to have a heart of stone not to answer. Even after the 810th time, you still answer, but the answers are fabricated for the sake of personal sanity. "That's the Rock of Gibralter son" "That's what Mommy would buy if she won the lottery".
He gets quite a bit of new word-fodder from S'Dat. Some of them he says and keeps, some of them he tries out and discards - he'll say one fairly clearly, like "dirty", then it will be abandoned for a few days in favor of the gobbeldy-gook which he seems to prefer. For some reason he'll pick up words oddly, like he calls one of our cats "Ca" (for cat) and the other one by his name, "Da-in" (Darwin). And, though we live in the non-accented speech center of the Midwest, he pronounces Hi like a Southern Belle, complete with high pitch and inflection on the "a" (and sometimes a small limp wave).
One of his favorite, and most useful, words that he has latched on to is hot, pronounced "Ha" - always very loudly. (for some reason pitch and volume matter to him in pronunciation, no idea why.) It astonishes me, but he actually uses it in various contexts - he'll stand across the room when I'm opening the oven screaming "Ha! Ha! Ha!" He'll also point at my morning coffee and yell "Ha!" Also, if the car is warm and his car seat is toasty, it's Ha as well. The one I really wasn't ready for, however, was when we were watching TV the other night, a scene with a big house fire came on. Of course my child is sitting there soaking up the rays of the screen, all of a sudden he points at it and yells "Ha! Ha!". NO idea how he put that together - 'tis a mystery. All I know, if he starts pointing at the honeys manning the hostess station at the next restaurant we go to and calls them "Ha!", someone's going down.
He gets quite a bit of new word-fodder from S'Dat. Some of them he says and keeps, some of them he tries out and discards - he'll say one fairly clearly, like "dirty", then it will be abandoned for a few days in favor of the gobbeldy-gook which he seems to prefer. For some reason he'll pick up words oddly, like he calls one of our cats "Ca" (for cat) and the other one by his name, "Da-in" (Darwin). And, though we live in the non-accented speech center of the Midwest, he pronounces Hi like a Southern Belle, complete with high pitch and inflection on the "a" (and sometimes a small limp wave).
One of his favorite, and most useful, words that he has latched on to is hot, pronounced "Ha" - always very loudly. (for some reason pitch and volume matter to him in pronunciation, no idea why.) It astonishes me, but he actually uses it in various contexts - he'll stand across the room when I'm opening the oven screaming "Ha! Ha! Ha!" He'll also point at my morning coffee and yell "Ha!" Also, if the car is warm and his car seat is toasty, it's Ha as well. The one I really wasn't ready for, however, was when we were watching TV the other night, a scene with a big house fire came on. Of course my child is sitting there soaking up the rays of the screen, all of a sudden he points at it and yells "Ha! Ha!". NO idea how he put that together - 'tis a mystery. All I know, if he starts pointing at the honeys manning the hostess station at the next restaurant we go to and calls them "Ha!", someone's going down.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
BlogHer?
A couple of friends, Average Jane and Cagey, went to the BlogHer convention in San Jose over the weekend. As the name implies, it was a convention specifically for female bloggers. Not being big into the blog scene, it sounded interesting when they first mentioned it, but didn't spark an overwhelming desire to go. Now that they've come back, having met some of my favorite online funny ladies, like Dooce and Finslippy, I must say I'm quite jealous. It sounds like it was a way fun trip, and fairly inexpensive to boot!
The schwag was cool (in a tech-geeky sort of way which, of course, I'm all into) and the seminars sounded very interesting. I do take small issue with any amount of feminazism that was behind starting it (I read some things about "empowering" women bloggers - please, sistah, we have and can get all the "power" we could ever want). Also that apparently "mommybloggers" - of which I guess I am because I 'gasp' write about my kid - are a) labeled and b) the Rodney Dangerfields of bloggers. Figures - have a kid, love him, like to talk about your life with him, and you're a pariah. The parental glass ceiling strikes again - no longer does it just dwell in the workplace!
Well, I've never accepted being limited by anything except my own energy levels (which are bad enough by themselves), so I think I'll not start now. I declare that It's Only Me is a Blog, unlabeled and here solely for my enjoyment (and yours if you like).
I may have to look into attendance at next year's festivities. Who knows what this blog thing will have morphed into by next year?
The schwag was cool (in a tech-geeky sort of way which, of course, I'm all into) and the seminars sounded very interesting. I do take small issue with any amount of feminazism that was behind starting it (I read some things about "empowering" women bloggers - please, sistah, we have and can get all the "power" we could ever want). Also that apparently "mommybloggers" - of which I guess I am because I 'gasp' write about my kid - are a) labeled and b) the Rodney Dangerfields of bloggers. Figures - have a kid, love him, like to talk about your life with him, and you're a pariah. The parental glass ceiling strikes again - no longer does it just dwell in the workplace!
Well, I've never accepted being limited by anything except my own energy levels (which are bad enough by themselves), so I think I'll not start now. I declare that It's Only Me is a Blog, unlabeled and here solely for my enjoyment (and yours if you like).
I may have to look into attendance at next year's festivities. Who knows what this blog thing will have morphed into by next year?
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