Daniel loves trucks. I mean, he LOVES them. Hand him a toy truck, or show him a picture of a truck, and his whole face lights up. "TRUCK! TRUCK!" he exclaims (though it sounds more like "DUCK! DUCK!"). Why do boys play with trucks, and girls with dolls? While this may sound more like the introductory lecture in your psych 101 class in college, it is a legitimate mystery that fascinates me on a regular basis. There are people who believe in the nature theory, that boys and girls are wired differently and thus gravitate towards different types of toys. Then there are those who believe in nurture theory, that our society "creates" gender roles by subconsciously (or not) surrounding boys with tough, messy things and girls with pink, frilly things. Well, you'll be relieved to know that I'm not going to endorse either theory here.
What interests me the most is what Daniel finds interesting or compelling. Yes, we've bought him many toys that are traditionally "boy-centric" like trucks and trains. But I've witnessed Daniel on numerous occasions pick up a doll at someone's house, or push around a toy stroller with genuine interest. I think it's wonderful. I'm just wondering at what point boys stop pushing around doll strollers and start asking their parents for the newest "war-machine" toy they saw advertised on TV. I wish I could say that my child will be immune to those societal gender roles, but I know he won't. One day he will turn up his nose at the dolls and the toy kitchens, and want to emulate his male friends who surround themselves with sports equipment, radio-controlled vehicles, and pretend weapons. And that is the day I will weep for my baby's loss of innocence.
I'd be hard-pressed to find a Mom out there who would admit to discouraging her son from playing with "girly" toys. But somewhere along the line, we must all be guilty. Why else would our little boys yell, "TRUCK!" rather than "TEA PARTY!" Is there something primal at work? Just the other night, as Daniel played with a bunch of old trucks and cars that his Mom-mom pulled out of storage, I began to wonder. As he moved the trucks back and forth on the ground, making a "GRRRRR" sound as he played, I couldn't remember ever having taught him how to "play" with trucks and cars. Where did he learn the sound effects to go along with his make-believe adventure? Was he born with this knowledge? Did he learn by observing other boys? And if it is all about environment and observation, then why doesn't he babble away while he's pushing around a doll stroller? That's how his Mommy does it.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The Kissing Bandit
Daniel has always been an affectionate little boy. He doles out hugs to whomever is a willing recipient, even if that "person" happens to be his dog. If I ask Daniel to give Ollie a hug, he'll throw his arms around that puppy like his life depends on it. He cuddles like no other boy I've ever known. Until now, though, Daniel hasn't been a big kisser. If you were lucky, you might get a quick peck from him (which felt more like him accidentally brushing his lips against yours). But that was then, this is now. Being around Daniel these days is not for the non-affectionate among us. He has become the Kissing Bandit.
Not only does he kiss on demand, but he uses kisses as a method of saying goodbye. Every morning, as we get ready to leave the house, Daniel blows kisses before turning to walk out the door. Who is the lucky recipient of his fish face kisses? Maybe Ollie, since I always call out, "Bye, Ollie! Love you!" before leaving the house. Daniel wants to put his particular stamp on the goodbye ritual. He looks so precious, puckering up those beautiful, plump lips of his and letting his kiss fly.
Daniel kisses his stuffed animals, his toys (especially his Thomas train), and basically anything that he's asked to put away or say goodbye to. Sometimes he's a little too "loose" with his kisses. Just the other day, as we were leaving music class, he stood by the door with his friends, Sammy and Ari. He was ready to go, wearing his coat, waiting for me to get my bag. I turned to see him blowing kisses back into the room, to no one in particular. He just puckered up and let them fly. I called out, "Daniel, who are you kissing?" I'm not really sure he knew, just felt like he had to share a kiss before leaving.
The next step is teaching him how to truly blow a kiss. Right now, he puts his hand up to his mouth and kind of kisses inward, like he's sucking it in instead of blowing it out. Whichever way he does it, though, it's the most delicious gift I've ever received.
Not only does he kiss on demand, but he uses kisses as a method of saying goodbye. Every morning, as we get ready to leave the house, Daniel blows kisses before turning to walk out the door. Who is the lucky recipient of his fish face kisses? Maybe Ollie, since I always call out, "Bye, Ollie! Love you!" before leaving the house. Daniel wants to put his particular stamp on the goodbye ritual. He looks so precious, puckering up those beautiful, plump lips of his and letting his kiss fly.
Daniel kisses his stuffed animals, his toys (especially his Thomas train), and basically anything that he's asked to put away or say goodbye to. Sometimes he's a little too "loose" with his kisses. Just the other day, as we were leaving music class, he stood by the door with his friends, Sammy and Ari. He was ready to go, wearing his coat, waiting for me to get my bag. I turned to see him blowing kisses back into the room, to no one in particular. He just puckered up and let them fly. I called out, "Daniel, who are you kissing?" I'm not really sure he knew, just felt like he had to share a kiss before leaving.
The next step is teaching him how to truly blow a kiss. Right now, he puts his hand up to his mouth and kind of kisses inward, like he's sucking it in instead of blowing it out. Whichever way he does it, though, it's the most delicious gift I've ever received.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
No Such Thing as the Right Time
If I were to summarize my experience as a Mom thus far, as Daniel is about to turn 21 months old, I'd have to say that it has been a pleasure. I am lucky enough to have been blessed with a healthy, beautiful little boy, who has exceeded my expectations in pretty much every way possible. He is happy, friendly, and easy-going. He sleeps through the night, wakes between 8:00 and 9:00 each morning, and naps for a solid 3 hours in the afternoon. He is flexible, and can adapt to most surroundings or situations. Best of all, he is sweet and lovable. I am head-over-heels in love with him. Which makes the prospect of having another baby all the more terrifying.
There are those people who, upon hearing about your perfect child, will shake their heads and warn, "Your next one is going to be a nightmare!" Amazingly, the possibility of having a child who doesn't sleep or eat, or one who is frequently ill-tempered, doesn't bother me nearly as much as the inevitable disruption of the life I've so carefully built for Daniel and myself. It took months and months of trial and error (mostly error) to get to a place where I can honestly say that I've got this Mommy thing down pat. I've achieved balance between the important things in my life: family, friends, fitness, and taking time for myself. Of course, Daniel being such an agreeable little guy certainly makes it easier. So why would I want to throw that all away for the chance to have another child?
There's the 3-hour afternoon break, which will probably disappear for a while. Goodbye, treadmill. Goodbye, books and magazines. Goodbye, blog (EEK!). The ability to leisurely stroll around the mall and stop for a quick lunch. Feeling no guilt when I want to go for a facial or manicure on a Saturday. A quick, relatively painless bedtime routine. Chances are, these luxuries will be gone. At least for the first year or two. Somehow, this doesn't deter me. I worry that another child will derail my focus away from my firstborn love. I'll miss the one-on-one time with Daniel that I so devoutly cherish. I even stress myself out over whether I could possibly love another child as much as I love Daniel. But then I think about how much more love I have to give, and it all seems clear.
Oh yeah, one more thing: It sure would be nice for Daniel to have a sibling to keep him occupied!
There are those people who, upon hearing about your perfect child, will shake their heads and warn, "Your next one is going to be a nightmare!" Amazingly, the possibility of having a child who doesn't sleep or eat, or one who is frequently ill-tempered, doesn't bother me nearly as much as the inevitable disruption of the life I've so carefully built for Daniel and myself. It took months and months of trial and error (mostly error) to get to a place where I can honestly say that I've got this Mommy thing down pat. I've achieved balance between the important things in my life: family, friends, fitness, and taking time for myself. Of course, Daniel being such an agreeable little guy certainly makes it easier. So why would I want to throw that all away for the chance to have another child?
There's the 3-hour afternoon break, which will probably disappear for a while. Goodbye, treadmill. Goodbye, books and magazines. Goodbye, blog (EEK!). The ability to leisurely stroll around the mall and stop for a quick lunch. Feeling no guilt when I want to go for a facial or manicure on a Saturday. A quick, relatively painless bedtime routine. Chances are, these luxuries will be gone. At least for the first year or two. Somehow, this doesn't deter me. I worry that another child will derail my focus away from my firstborn love. I'll miss the one-on-one time with Daniel that I so devoutly cherish. I even stress myself out over whether I could possibly love another child as much as I love Daniel. But then I think about how much more love I have to give, and it all seems clear.
Oh yeah, one more thing: It sure would be nice for Daniel to have a sibling to keep him occupied!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
My Mommy Pet Peeve
Okay, so the title of this entry is a bit misleading. I have numerous pet peeves when it comes to the behavior of other Mommies. I could probably spend a month writing about this topic alone. But I'll spare the reader my ranting and raving, and focus on one particular observation that gets me all hot under the collar. It really bothers me when other Moms ignore my child. I'm not talking about the random lady at the grocery store who fails to stop her cart to Oooh and Aaah over my precious little boy. The behavior to which I'm referring typically occurs in a group setting, with multiple Moms and children present. The situation unfolds something like this: We're in music class, singing along with a song and playing with instruments. Daniel, being the friendly guy he is, wanders over to another Mom in the circle. Maybe he hands her his instrument. Maybe he just smiles. But the Mom looks right through him, as if there's a law against acknowledging any child in the room but your own. What -- will your kid think you love him any less because you smiled at another child? On the contrary, dumbass, your child needs to see you acting warm towards other children so he can follow your lead.
I practice what I preach. I try to not only acknowledge other children I encounter, but I go out of my way to interact with them if I notice that their Moms are particularly disengaged. There are always one or two groups of Moms in any class who spend more time yapping with each other than they spend focused on their children. I think this is a travesty. Sure, we all need a little adult bonding, but not at the expense of our interactions with our children. When a child wanders up to me, I smile and say hello. Sometimes I ask the child about an object he or she is holding. Other times I'll do something silly to get a reaction. Maybe it's the teacher in me, and I'm expecting too much of people. But I see other Moms interacting with Daniel in the same manner that I do with their children. The perpetrators are few and far between. Unfortunately, however, it takes just one rotten egg (or sourpuss Mom) to ruin the casserole.
I practice what I preach. I try to not only acknowledge other children I encounter, but I go out of my way to interact with them if I notice that their Moms are particularly disengaged. There are always one or two groups of Moms in any class who spend more time yapping with each other than they spend focused on their children. I think this is a travesty. Sure, we all need a little adult bonding, but not at the expense of our interactions with our children. When a child wanders up to me, I smile and say hello. Sometimes I ask the child about an object he or she is holding. Other times I'll do something silly to get a reaction. Maybe it's the teacher in me, and I'm expecting too much of people. But I see other Moms interacting with Daniel in the same manner that I do with their children. The perpetrators are few and far between. Unfortunately, however, it takes just one rotten egg (or sourpuss Mom) to ruin the casserole.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
A Creature of Habit
There is no doubt in my mind that Daniel is my flesh and blood. Aside from some obvious physical similarities, there exist certain behavioral tendencies that serve as evidence to me (and many others who know me well) that Daniel has inherited my love of routine and structure. Not only does he enjoy the act of rearranging objects and putting things away (in fact, sometimes I wish he would just play more and not worry so much about cleaning up), but his behavior follows a neat and orderly pattern that I observed with my own eyes earlier today.
We visited Daniel's grandparents for breakfast. He has been to their house many times, and he seems to follow the same routine each time he's there. After getting over the initial surprise of Lucy's loud barking, Daniel heads for his toy corner in the living room. He usually goes for the ride-on fire truck or the crate of blocks. If his grandmother takes out the fold-up playhouse, he immediately opens the garage or pushes down the flowers. It's like these actions are imprinted on his brain, and triggered when he sees the playhouse. Sometimes he wanders into the kitchen and goes directly to the intricate-looking vent on the floor. Inevitably, he'll make his way into the formal living room and bang out a few notes on the piano. Then he'll walk over to the fireplace and take a peek in the ornamental box on the hearth. I can almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "Piano, check. Open the box, check."
We ventured upstairs for a diaper change in his Daddy's old bedroom. Daniel has explored this room before, and took a strong liking to two paper-mache clowns on the dresser. Now, whenever he sees the clowns, he has to give each one a kiss. To be honest, the clowns kind of creep me out. But Daniel loves them, and no trip upstairs is complete without showering them with his affection. While Daniel's behaviors nowhere near resemble OCD, I do sometimes worry that he'll be burdened with his inherited anal-retentiveness for the rest of his life. I'll keep an eye on him, but if following a predictable routine makes him happy (and he continues to be flexible when necessary) then I guess I can stop feeling so guilty.
We visited Daniel's grandparents for breakfast. He has been to their house many times, and he seems to follow the same routine each time he's there. After getting over the initial surprise of Lucy's loud barking, Daniel heads for his toy corner in the living room. He usually goes for the ride-on fire truck or the crate of blocks. If his grandmother takes out the fold-up playhouse, he immediately opens the garage or pushes down the flowers. It's like these actions are imprinted on his brain, and triggered when he sees the playhouse. Sometimes he wanders into the kitchen and goes directly to the intricate-looking vent on the floor. Inevitably, he'll make his way into the formal living room and bang out a few notes on the piano. Then he'll walk over to the fireplace and take a peek in the ornamental box on the hearth. I can almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "Piano, check. Open the box, check."
We ventured upstairs for a diaper change in his Daddy's old bedroom. Daniel has explored this room before, and took a strong liking to two paper-mache clowns on the dresser. Now, whenever he sees the clowns, he has to give each one a kiss. To be honest, the clowns kind of creep me out. But Daniel loves them, and no trip upstairs is complete without showering them with his affection. While Daniel's behaviors nowhere near resemble OCD, I do sometimes worry that he'll be burdened with his inherited anal-retentiveness for the rest of his life. I'll keep an eye on him, but if following a predictable routine makes him happy (and he continues to be flexible when necessary) then I guess I can stop feeling so guilty.
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