I asked Zadie if she was playing in a mud puddle and she replied, "Unh uh. I'm not 'playing.'" A few minutes later she was even deeper in, and I wondered if she would still deny playing in the mud. Not only does she, but she spins a pretty fabulous tale about a field trip taken by ship.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
When to go ahead and say it and when not to.
As Zadie gets more and more social and conversational, we sometimes hit minefields. What should we teach her not to say? What is okay to say? And how can I get her to avoid talking to missionaries?
I mentioned that we went to the Old Spaghetti Factory on Friday night. Zadie really wanted to sit in the train car, but it was a long, long wait, so we took another table. As it dawned on her what was happening (we were passing the train car and going to another table), she started to wail like she has never done before. Okay, maybe not "never before," but it was a big'un. As we sat down, she fixed her gaze on the hostess and calmed her tears long enough to say "You've really disappointed me." The poor hostess looked absolutely stricken, but on the bright side, we had a train car table within about 40 seconds!
In the doctor's office, Zadie was as talkative as usual. She also drew a picture on a small chalkboard. (I posted this on Facebook, but it's worth repeating: I asked her what the drawing was, and she said "It's for my DOCTOR, Dr. Wilson, and it's a sun. And now I'm erasing it with THE MAGIC OF MY FINGERS!") Anyway, It happens that Dr. Wilson is African American. After we'd been talking with her for a long time, Zadie pointed out "Your skin is DARK BROWN! And mine is LIGHT WHITE." Dr. Wilson took it in stride and held her arm out so they could compare. I decided that was totally okay, and I'd keep my big nose out of it.
I go out with Mom every Sunday, and sometimes Zadie doesn't want to go in right away, so we let her play in the car and we sit and talk a bit more. Yesterday, two young men in suits came down the street. Despite our studious efforts to avoid their gazes, they did approach the car. They asked if they could talk to us for a minute, and Mom said we weren't interested. One flashed a picture of Jesus like a badge and said "It's about Jesus." "Oh, we know who he is. He sounds like a cool guy, but we're not into it. Thanks, though." They left and walked down the street. However, soon they had turned around and were doing the other side. As they got to the house across the street from ours, Zadie leaned way out the window and yelled. "Hi!! Hi!!! It's my birthday! I'm three! You guys look nice!" Mom and I were cracking up.
I mentioned that we went to the Old Spaghetti Factory on Friday night. Zadie really wanted to sit in the train car, but it was a long, long wait, so we took another table. As it dawned on her what was happening (we were passing the train car and going to another table), she started to wail like she has never done before. Okay, maybe not "never before," but it was a big'un. As we sat down, she fixed her gaze on the hostess and calmed her tears long enough to say "You've really disappointed me." The poor hostess looked absolutely stricken, but on the bright side, we had a train car table within about 40 seconds!
In the doctor's office, Zadie was as talkative as usual. She also drew a picture on a small chalkboard. (I posted this on Facebook, but it's worth repeating: I asked her what the drawing was, and she said "It's for my DOCTOR, Dr. Wilson, and it's a sun. And now I'm erasing it with THE MAGIC OF MY FINGERS!") Anyway, It happens that Dr. Wilson is African American. After we'd been talking with her for a long time, Zadie pointed out "Your skin is DARK BROWN! And mine is LIGHT WHITE." Dr. Wilson took it in stride and held her arm out so they could compare. I decided that was totally okay, and I'd keep my big nose out of it.
I go out with Mom every Sunday, and sometimes Zadie doesn't want to go in right away, so we let her play in the car and we sit and talk a bit more. Yesterday, two young men in suits came down the street. Despite our studious efforts to avoid their gazes, they did approach the car. They asked if they could talk to us for a minute, and Mom said we weren't interested. One flashed a picture of Jesus like a badge and said "It's about Jesus." "Oh, we know who he is. He sounds like a cool guy, but we're not into it. Thanks, though." They left and walked down the street. However, soon they had turned around and were doing the other side. As they got to the house across the street from ours, Zadie leaned way out the window and yelled. "Hi!! Hi!!! It's my birthday! I'm three! You guys look nice!" Mom and I were cracking up.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Zadie is three.
We had a nice day together. Sweetie and I both took the day off, and we had a few things to do.
We started with breakfast and presents. I offered pancakes, but she wanted multigrain hot cereal.
Later was preschool. We had an unexpected fire drill.
We came home and got Sweetie, and from there we went to lunch, then REI to get a new bike (!), and then to her doctor's visit. She's perfect in every way, of course.
Then we came home for just a bit, and I baked the cake. Then it was her choice of restaurant for dinner -- The Old Spaghetti Factory.
It was lovely more or less throughout. She had to get a shot, and there was some kerfuffle over a meatball. Once or twice she burst into tears, but otherwise, I think she had a good day. I can't wait for her party tomorrow. And I just can't believe how she's growing.
We started with breakfast and presents. I offered pancakes, but she wanted multigrain hot cereal.
Later was preschool. We had an unexpected fire drill.
We came home and got Sweetie, and from there we went to lunch, then REI to get a new bike (!), and then to her doctor's visit. She's perfect in every way, of course.
Then we came home for just a bit, and I baked the cake. Then it was her choice of restaurant for dinner -- The Old Spaghetti Factory.
It was lovely more or less throughout. She had to get a shot, and there was some kerfuffle over a meatball. Once or twice she burst into tears, but otherwise, I think she had a good day. I can't wait for her party tomorrow. And I just can't believe how she's growing.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Ireland week
Well, we're doing another culture week, and it seemed to be appropriate to study Ireland on the week of Saint Patrick's Day. On Sunday, we had soda bread for breakfast. I'd used the recipe before, and it's a good one. I used whole wheat flour this time, and it was still really tasty. I especially liked it with the pear-ginger conserve I made last summer.
On Tuesday we had Irish stew... sort of. I used fake meat, so it's not particularly authentic, but we all liked it. In fact, Sweetie always swears he hates turnips, but there was a significant amount of turnip in it and he kept raving about it.
Tonight we had colcannon, which is basically mashed potatoes with cabbage. I added onion because I like it, and peas because Sweetie requested them.
I printed out some coloring pages, mostly of Blarney castle and some animals in the style of the Book of Kells. I also did a Selkie (a seal/human), because she has a story about them and is pretty interested in the idea. I stayed away from leprechauns and pots of gold.
She got a Little Travelers video from Mom about the British Isles and has watched that a few times. She also watched and really liked the Secret of Roan Inish, one of my favorite movies. The first time we watched it, she got upset when the baby in the cradle got washed out to sea, so I had to pause it to reassure her that he was okay. I was surprised a little that she never commented on the accents. Either she can totally understand them or totally can't and isn't saying anything.
Finally, we bought two new books, Fiona's Luck and Finn McCool and the Great Fish. I really like them both, and so does she. Fiona's Luck is really about using your wits instead of relying on luck, and features a strong, smart female main character. Finn McCool is a charming book that is ostensibly about the mythic Irish hero, although he's a badass fighting King Arthur type, really, and this book portrays him, literally, as a gentle giant. Full disclosure -- Finn is Zadie's middle name, and I did choose it in honor of Finn McCool.
That's about all, besides a few listenings of "When Irish Eyes are Smiling," "Danny Boy," a Chieftans album and once, when she wasn't paying much attention, a few Boiled in Lead songs.
I've made traditional Irish desserts in the past, but one's a tooth-endangering toffee and the other involves potatoes*, so I skipped it this time. Sweetie and I did, however, have this conversation:
Me: Oh, say... I ran into our friends Ben and Jerry at the store.
Sweetie: Oh yeah? How are they?
Me: Good, except for the news they had about Dublin.
Sweetie: What's that?
Me: There was a terrible mudslide.
Sweetie: Hmmm, I'll have to investigate that later.
Yeah, now that we can't spell stuff anymore, we're going to have to be sneakier.
*I'm not kidding, and it's not as bad as that sounds. You make mashed potatoes, add flour until it's a dough, and use the dough to make a sort of calzone-shaped apple pie. It tasted good, although the consistency was a little off to me.
On Tuesday we had Irish stew... sort of. I used fake meat, so it's not particularly authentic, but we all liked it. In fact, Sweetie always swears he hates turnips, but there was a significant amount of turnip in it and he kept raving about it.
Tonight we had colcannon, which is basically mashed potatoes with cabbage. I added onion because I like it, and peas because Sweetie requested them.
I printed out some coloring pages, mostly of Blarney castle and some animals in the style of the Book of Kells. I also did a Selkie (a seal/human), because she has a story about them and is pretty interested in the idea. I stayed away from leprechauns and pots of gold.
She got a Little Travelers video from Mom about the British Isles and has watched that a few times. She also watched and really liked the Secret of Roan Inish, one of my favorite movies. The first time we watched it, she got upset when the baby in the cradle got washed out to sea, so I had to pause it to reassure her that he was okay. I was surprised a little that she never commented on the accents. Either she can totally understand them or totally can't and isn't saying anything.
Finally, we bought two new books, Fiona's Luck and Finn McCool and the Great Fish. I really like them both, and so does she. Fiona's Luck is really about using your wits instead of relying on luck, and features a strong, smart female main character. Finn McCool is a charming book that is ostensibly about the mythic Irish hero, although he's a badass fighting King Arthur type, really, and this book portrays him, literally, as a gentle giant. Full disclosure -- Finn is Zadie's middle name, and I did choose it in honor of Finn McCool.
That's about all, besides a few listenings of "When Irish Eyes are Smiling," "Danny Boy," a Chieftans album and once, when she wasn't paying much attention, a few Boiled in Lead songs.
I've made traditional Irish desserts in the past, but one's a tooth-endangering toffee and the other involves potatoes*, so I skipped it this time. Sweetie and I did, however, have this conversation:
Me: Oh, say... I ran into our friends Ben and Jerry at the store.
Sweetie: Oh yeah? How are they?
Me: Good, except for the news they had about Dublin.
Sweetie: What's that?
Me: There was a terrible mudslide.
Sweetie: Hmmm, I'll have to investigate that later.
Yeah, now that we can't spell stuff anymore, we're going to have to be sneakier.
*I'm not kidding, and it's not as bad as that sounds. You make mashed potatoes, add flour until it's a dough, and use the dough to make a sort of calzone-shaped apple pie. It tasted good, although the consistency was a little off to me.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Genealogy fun facts
I've traced one side of my family back to 1470. That's before Shakespeare, yo.
All four of my grandparents have ancestors in Ireland, Scotland, or both.
It's the side from the Netherlands that goes back to 1470. They seem to have damn good record-keeping.
My grandma told me I was eligible for Daughters of the American Revolution. I found out I am... on both sides. A surprising number of my ancestors lived in the U.S. before it was the U.S.
The most recent immigrants all came from Ireland during... well, do I even have to say it? The very most recent was Rodger Charles Ryan, who arrived from Ireland on April 17, 1880.
Number of slaves I thought my family had owned = none. Number of slaves they actually did = some. I haven't checked all the census data, but I found one guy who owned ten. Yes, this disturbs me.
Almost all of my ancestors lived in Pennsylvania at one time.
The oldest ancestor I can trace is my great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandfather, Gerrit Van Gameren. (That's 16 greats.)
A quick survey of only my great-great grandparents and above reveals births in fifteen American states.
I was truly surprised at the number of people who had more than ten children or who had children well into their forties. My mom pointed out the no-birth-control thing (I know, duh, but didn't they even have the rhythm method?), but I honestly thought that with their shortened life expectancies they would hit menopause earlier, too.
Also, my grandma did a ton of genealogy research for decades. She traveled, studied books, and read the shaky handwriting in the records. Using Ancestry.com is about as hard as double-clicking. I feel a little disloyal every time I so easily stumble upon someone she never found, or change a Susannah to a Sarah.
Finally, the numbers of people multiply exponentially (for every generation, double just the number of people, but if you add all the siblings, there are probably already thousands of people on my chart). I want everyone I know to do one of these so we can compare and see if we're distant cousins. I suddenly feel as though I could be related to anyone I encounter.
It's been really interesting.
All four of my grandparents have ancestors in Ireland, Scotland, or both.
It's the side from the Netherlands that goes back to 1470. They seem to have damn good record-keeping.
My grandma told me I was eligible for Daughters of the American Revolution. I found out I am... on both sides. A surprising number of my ancestors lived in the U.S. before it was the U.S.
The most recent immigrants all came from Ireland during... well, do I even have to say it? The very most recent was Rodger Charles Ryan, who arrived from Ireland on April 17, 1880.
Number of slaves I thought my family had owned = none. Number of slaves they actually did = some. I haven't checked all the census data, but I found one guy who owned ten. Yes, this disturbs me.
Almost all of my ancestors lived in Pennsylvania at one time.
The oldest ancestor I can trace is my great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandfather, Gerrit Van Gameren. (That's 16 greats.)
A quick survey of only my great-great grandparents and above reveals births in fifteen American states.
I was truly surprised at the number of people who had more than ten children or who had children well into their forties. My mom pointed out the no-birth-control thing (I know, duh, but didn't they even have the rhythm method?), but I honestly thought that with their shortened life expectancies they would hit menopause earlier, too.
Also, my grandma did a ton of genealogy research for decades. She traveled, studied books, and read the shaky handwriting in the records. Using Ancestry.com is about as hard as double-clicking. I feel a little disloyal every time I so easily stumble upon someone she never found, or change a Susannah to a Sarah.
Finally, the numbers of people multiply exponentially (for every generation, double just the number of people, but if you add all the siblings, there are probably already thousands of people on my chart). I want everyone I know to do one of these so we can compare and see if we're distant cousins. I suddenly feel as though I could be related to anyone I encounter.
It's been really interesting.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Scheming?
When we were teaching Z to use the potty, Mom and I both would sometimes say "Pssssss" to help her go. Now when she's in the bathroom with me, she sometimes does it to "help" me. I always say, "Oh, thank you. That helped a lot."
I made cookies on Saturday, and while the pan was still hot, Zadie reached for one. That's how she got a terrible burn the last time, so I shrieked and shooed her away. I turned back to my cooking and a moment later I heard her saying, "Psssssss. Pssssss."
I gave her a sidelong look, and she explained. "I was saying 'pssss' so that you would have to go pee so that you would go to the bathroom." I looked at her, the bathroom door, and the cookies. "Then what would happen?" "I don't know."
I'm not totally convinced she did in fact know, but if she did, isn't that about the creepiest thing to ever come out of a two-year-old's mouth? I mean, she's inventing multi-step schemes to get me out of the way so she can steal cookies. She's going to have to be about one millimeter more sly to actually get me, but there we are. I think I'm going to spend about, oh, the next sixteen years on my toes.
I made cookies on Saturday, and while the pan was still hot, Zadie reached for one. That's how she got a terrible burn the last time, so I shrieked and shooed her away. I turned back to my cooking and a moment later I heard her saying, "Psssssss. Pssssss."
I gave her a sidelong look, and she explained. "I was saying 'pssss' so that you would have to go pee so that you would go to the bathroom." I looked at her, the bathroom door, and the cookies. "Then what would happen?" "I don't know."
I'm not totally convinced she did in fact know, but if she did, isn't that about the creepiest thing to ever come out of a two-year-old's mouth? I mean, she's inventing multi-step schemes to get me out of the way so she can steal cookies. She's going to have to be about one millimeter more sly to actually get me, but there we are. I think I'm going to spend about, oh, the next sixteen years on my toes.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.
The title of this post is, of course, a reference to Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, my undisputed favorite show as a kid. I played an episode for Zadie yesterday, and I was really nervous. If she didn't love it, I was going to be disappointed. But she did! Hooray!
There's been a lot of activity in my 'hood as the weather gets warmer, but nothing more exciting than what happened the other night. At about 9:30, two helicopters started circling really low and lighting up my street. They stayed for a long time, and eventually I went out to see what was going on. I couldn't tell, but my neighbor said there were eight cop cars at the end of our street and they had the three nearest streets blocked off. I listened to the police scanner for a while and couldn't tell what was going on (other than they were looking for someone on foot in my neighborhood, which was already obvious).
The next morning, I found out that a little Greek restaurant nearby had been robbed and the baddies had tried to escape via the street next to us. Again. Apparently they first knocked over someone's fence and caused a bunch of damage (like breaking potted plants), then one tried to run away via the house next door to the house that got crashed into before. The woman who owns it said she heard a racket and it sounded like someone was in her living room. She went to investigate and saw a large man with a gun tearing off her screen door and trying to get in the back door. She ran out through the front door only to see a bunch of police officers. A SWAT officer told her to get back inside and lay down, so she did. At that point, they released the police dog into the backyard. The guy leaped up onto a waterfall, shot at the police and the dog, and they returned fire. He jumped over the fence into the next yard, where another neighbor came face-to-face with him with the bad guy's gun raised! There were more shots fired, then the dog got him and they immobilized him. I'm still not sure whether they got the other guy, although it sounds like the manhunt was on until about 3:30am.
In better neighbor news, we had a potluck last night, and it was totally fun. I handed out just a couple simple invitations (on computer paper) and gave everyone one or two more for the people they might run into, and I said to just bring whatever, since we'd probably have it covered. Then yesterday we dragged out some chairs, a fire pit, and an ice chest. The neighbors brought a folding table, and soon a friendly handful showed up. We had enchiladas, lasagna, almonds, oranges, popcorn, a spinach-rice-cheese bake, butternut squash, pasta, roasted vegetables, and bread. It was a really nice spread. I made a baked pasta casserole and cookies. Everyone brought beer or wine and we just kept stoking the fire and enjoying the company. Several kids ran around and the adults mostly sat and gabbed. I got the fire pit as a birthday gift from Dad after admiring one at another party several years ago. Everyone loved it, and about three other people swore they were going to go get one. Actually, we don't use it often as a fire pit (it doubles as a barbecue, and we use it more for that), but it was perfect for last night. It was just a little chilly out, and the fire made it pleasant. We circled our chairs a little closer as the evening wore on.
My favorite thing was the cookies I made! I got the recipe online about a week ago and couldn't wait to try it. They're called salted double chocolate peanut butter cookies. They have cocoa powder and chocolate chips and you sprinkle a few grains of sea salt on top. I liked them, and Sweetie did, too. Then we put a plate out and I kept overhearing my neighbors position themselves over there and say, "What kind are these?" "Salted double chocolate peanut butter cookies." (One neighbor in particular had made it his job to remember the whole name and inform others.) "Salted?" "Salted." Then they would both eat a cookie. The salt sounds weird, but it really enhanced the flavor, and on reflection, I think I could have added even a bit more.
Anyway, that's good for now, I think. There's plenty of more to tell, but there's laundry to fold... sigh.
There's been a lot of activity in my 'hood as the weather gets warmer, but nothing more exciting than what happened the other night. At about 9:30, two helicopters started circling really low and lighting up my street. They stayed for a long time, and eventually I went out to see what was going on. I couldn't tell, but my neighbor said there were eight cop cars at the end of our street and they had the three nearest streets blocked off. I listened to the police scanner for a while and couldn't tell what was going on (other than they were looking for someone on foot in my neighborhood, which was already obvious).
The next morning, I found out that a little Greek restaurant nearby had been robbed and the baddies had tried to escape via the street next to us. Again. Apparently they first knocked over someone's fence and caused a bunch of damage (like breaking potted plants), then one tried to run away via the house next door to the house that got crashed into before. The woman who owns it said she heard a racket and it sounded like someone was in her living room. She went to investigate and saw a large man with a gun tearing off her screen door and trying to get in the back door. She ran out through the front door only to see a bunch of police officers. A SWAT officer told her to get back inside and lay down, so she did. At that point, they released the police dog into the backyard. The guy leaped up onto a waterfall, shot at the police and the dog, and they returned fire. He jumped over the fence into the next yard, where another neighbor came face-to-face with him with the bad guy's gun raised! There were more shots fired, then the dog got him and they immobilized him. I'm still not sure whether they got the other guy, although it sounds like the manhunt was on until about 3:30am.
In better neighbor news, we had a potluck last night, and it was totally fun. I handed out just a couple simple invitations (on computer paper) and gave everyone one or two more for the people they might run into, and I said to just bring whatever, since we'd probably have it covered. Then yesterday we dragged out some chairs, a fire pit, and an ice chest. The neighbors brought a folding table, and soon a friendly handful showed up. We had enchiladas, lasagna, almonds, oranges, popcorn, a spinach-rice-cheese bake, butternut squash, pasta, roasted vegetables, and bread. It was a really nice spread. I made a baked pasta casserole and cookies. Everyone brought beer or wine and we just kept stoking the fire and enjoying the company. Several kids ran around and the adults mostly sat and gabbed. I got the fire pit as a birthday gift from Dad after admiring one at another party several years ago. Everyone loved it, and about three other people swore they were going to go get one. Actually, we don't use it often as a fire pit (it doubles as a barbecue, and we use it more for that), but it was perfect for last night. It was just a little chilly out, and the fire made it pleasant. We circled our chairs a little closer as the evening wore on.
My favorite thing was the cookies I made! I got the recipe online about a week ago and couldn't wait to try it. They're called salted double chocolate peanut butter cookies. They have cocoa powder and chocolate chips and you sprinkle a few grains of sea salt on top. I liked them, and Sweetie did, too. Then we put a plate out and I kept overhearing my neighbors position themselves over there and say, "What kind are these?" "Salted double chocolate peanut butter cookies." (One neighbor in particular had made it his job to remember the whole name and inform others.) "Salted?" "Salted." Then they would both eat a cookie. The salt sounds weird, but it really enhanced the flavor, and on reflection, I think I could have added even a bit more.
Anyway, that's good for now, I think. There's plenty of more to tell, but there's laundry to fold... sigh.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Stuff that's working, mostly, right now.
Well, did I rail on about a Positive Discipline book a while back? Between that book and a lecture I watched, I was starting to get the idea that positive discipline meant never doing anything to change a child's behavior besides really, really embracing their feelings and sort of shifting your whole life around so that they never had any reason to be upset, ever.
I remember thinking, "So what the crap are you supposed to do when the kid won't leave the park and it's dinnertime and you're starving?" Given what I'd read and seen, my impression was that the authors would all wag their fingers at you and suggest that next time, you should go to the park earlier and pack a snack. Which has its own wisdom, sort of, but what about this time?
In fact, now that I'm reading "Positive Discipline A-Z," I'm finding that there are lots of suggestions that are more in line with what I'm comfortable with. For example, if you're in the park situation, it's totally okay to pick the kid up and throw her in the car. You just have to acknowledge their feelings. "I know you want to stay. That must make you feel pretty disappointed." In fact, the author pretty much says kids have to learn to deal with disappointment and frustration. It's your job to help them learn how, not to avoid it.
Anyway, they also have several suggestions for things like bedtime that, despite my initial thought that the books were all about giving in to kids, are really pretty strict in some ways. Like, kids (even her age) should have chores and responsibilities. They should suffer natural consequences for their actions, like helping to clean up the messes they make. And they suggest cutting down on the bedtime shenanigans -- no "one more story," no "I need something." You should have a short list of bedtime routines (for us it's potty, teeth-brushing, jammies, three stories, and a little rhyme and kisses), then if she gets out of bed, I carry her back to bed silently. I have a hard time with this, actually -- I really feel compelled to talk to her. (In fact, the books showed me that I really have a tendency to over-explain. 2-year-olds aren't logical creatures. Sometimes it's just "That is the way it's going to be. I know you feel sad.")
Anyway, I tried it rather skeptically at first, but it's been fantastic. Not that we don't still have occasional nights where she stays awake for an hour and calls me every five minutes, but they're rarer. Most of the time now, she just goes to sleep. And instead of negotiating over how many stories and songs there would be and staying up until 8:40, she's usually down by 8:05.
Another thing that helped, actually, was giving her a snack before bed. I've mentioned before that she is a big eater. In a fairly typical day, she'd eat a bowl of oatmeal here, some eggs and cheese and toast at Mom's, a snack mid-morning (and sometimes another), then a big lunch like pasta or polenta or soup (usually including seconds), sometimes a pre-nap snack, a snack before dinner, dinner (a pretty healthy portion usually), and then the bedtime snack (which was an especially big one tonight -- seaweed, a cereal bar, fruit snacks, and a glass of milk). She just burns so darned many calories all day that she gets hungry at night and wakes up.
The chores and clean-up have worked well, too. She wipes down the table every night, and usually if I ask her to clean up a spill, she does it readily. And I know it's important to her, because tonight she started to get distracted, and I said "Okay, well I guess I'll do your chore," and she jumped up to do it herself.
Anyway, none if it's a fix-all. She's two, after all. She's gonna be a temperamental creature. But it's been better here in a lot of ways. I'm not quite finished (ahem, I took a break to read fiction), but when I am I'm going to read another in the series. I admit it -- I was wrong.
I remember thinking, "So what the crap are you supposed to do when the kid won't leave the park and it's dinnertime and you're starving?" Given what I'd read and seen, my impression was that the authors would all wag their fingers at you and suggest that next time, you should go to the park earlier and pack a snack. Which has its own wisdom, sort of, but what about this time?
In fact, now that I'm reading "Positive Discipline A-Z," I'm finding that there are lots of suggestions that are more in line with what I'm comfortable with. For example, if you're in the park situation, it's totally okay to pick the kid up and throw her in the car. You just have to acknowledge their feelings. "I know you want to stay. That must make you feel pretty disappointed." In fact, the author pretty much says kids have to learn to deal with disappointment and frustration. It's your job to help them learn how, not to avoid it.
Anyway, they also have several suggestions for things like bedtime that, despite my initial thought that the books were all about giving in to kids, are really pretty strict in some ways. Like, kids (even her age) should have chores and responsibilities. They should suffer natural consequences for their actions, like helping to clean up the messes they make. And they suggest cutting down on the bedtime shenanigans -- no "one more story," no "I need something." You should have a short list of bedtime routines (for us it's potty, teeth-brushing, jammies, three stories, and a little rhyme and kisses), then if she gets out of bed, I carry her back to bed silently. I have a hard time with this, actually -- I really feel compelled to talk to her. (In fact, the books showed me that I really have a tendency to over-explain. 2-year-olds aren't logical creatures. Sometimes it's just "That is the way it's going to be. I know you feel sad.")
Anyway, I tried it rather skeptically at first, but it's been fantastic. Not that we don't still have occasional nights where she stays awake for an hour and calls me every five minutes, but they're rarer. Most of the time now, she just goes to sleep. And instead of negotiating over how many stories and songs there would be and staying up until 8:40, she's usually down by 8:05.
Another thing that helped, actually, was giving her a snack before bed. I've mentioned before that she is a big eater. In a fairly typical day, she'd eat a bowl of oatmeal here, some eggs and cheese and toast at Mom's, a snack mid-morning (and sometimes another), then a big lunch like pasta or polenta or soup (usually including seconds), sometimes a pre-nap snack, a snack before dinner, dinner (a pretty healthy portion usually), and then the bedtime snack (which was an especially big one tonight -- seaweed, a cereal bar, fruit snacks, and a glass of milk). She just burns so darned many calories all day that she gets hungry at night and wakes up.
The chores and clean-up have worked well, too. She wipes down the table every night, and usually if I ask her to clean up a spill, she does it readily. And I know it's important to her, because tonight she started to get distracted, and I said "Okay, well I guess I'll do your chore," and she jumped up to do it herself.
Anyway, none if it's a fix-all. She's two, after all. She's gonna be a temperamental creature. But it's been better here in a lot of ways. I'm not quite finished (ahem, I took a break to read fiction), but when I am I'm going to read another in the series. I admit it -- I was wrong.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
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