Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Re-adjustment Period

I have to preface this entry by saying that I'm probably going to jinx myself by writing about this particular topic. Once my words are published, there's no taking them back. Anything could happen to negate my point of view. But that's a risk I'm going to have to take.

I was dreading returning home from our 3-week stint in Florida. Not only would I miss the balmy puffy-jacket-free weather and the extra all-day help with Daniel, but I would have to face the possibility of my worst nightmare coming true: that Daniel's schedule would be turned on its head. While we kept to a semi-regular routine in Florida, naptimes and mealtimes shifted more than usual on a daily basis. There were some mornings I awoke at 7:00 to the sounds of Daniel saying, "Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh..." this is a child who typically sleeps until 8:30! On a few occasions, his nap was cut short for no particular reason. What were usually 3-hour-naps at home were dwindling to 2 hours or less! I was in a panic. I didn't know if I was equipped to deal with such drastic schedule changes once I got home and was faced with a busy schedule.

Last year, upon our return home from Florida, Daniel's naps were all out of whack. I would put him down at the usual time and listen until he was quiet. When I'd turn off the treadmill 2 hours later, he'd be crying hysterically and I'd rush to rescue him from the confines of the Pack 'n Play. This went on for several weeks. I even went so far as to borrow a second Exersaucer from a friend, thinking that Daniel could stay in the room with me while I worked out (if he was no longer willing to nap). I don't really remember how the issue resolved itself, but he eventually went back to being the stellar napper that he is. I just had to make it through a couple of weeks of hell.

So you can imagine my concern upon returning home this week. Would my little darling's voice transmit through the monitor at the break of dawn? Would my luxurious afternoon breaks be a thing of the past? Only time would tell. Well, it has been two days. (Here's the part where I am surely jinxing my good fortune.) Daniel has been an absolute angel. He's not only sleeping through the night until well after 8:00, but his naps have been restful and long. He's eating like a champ, and even letting me change his diaper without too much hassle (well, there has been a lot of wiggling but no kicking me in the stomach as of yet). So far, it looks like I may get out of this one scott-free. Not sure what I did to deserve it, but I sure don't take it for granted!

Friday, February 20, 2009

The Value of a Night Out

I love spending time with Daniel. Nothing bring me more joy than watching him giggle with glee as we play a game of make-believe. Sometimes I'm so awestruck by my love for him that I have to nuzzle up to him and sniff his hair to fully grasp the reality of it. I wouldn't trade being a stay-at-home-mom for anything, and I know how lucky I am to be able to spend so much quality time with him. But...and this is a BIG but...that doesn't mean I don't fully enjoy a night out alone with Peter or my girlfriends, away from Daniel. In fact, I don't just enjoy it, I CRAVE it on occasion. I NEED it to maintain my sanity, and I think that makes me a better mother to Daniel in the long run.

I've never been one of those mothers who brags about how many consecutive hours she has devoted solely to her child. From the very beginning, I treated myself to the occasional facial appointment or ladies' lunch, and I rarely felt guilty about it (rarely, but not never!). I knew myself well enough to know that if I cloistered myself up in the house with no one to talk to but my infant son and lazy dog, I'd go completely postal. I was lucky enough to have both sets of parents close by, and they were usually more than happy to babysit. Peter and I took advantage of this privilege early on, with dinner "dates" to restaurants to which Daniel could not yet accompany us. It was a great way for Peter and I to stay connected during those early days of new parenthood; time set aside during which we could have a conversation about something other than how best to diaper Daniel so that he wouldn't leak all over himself (though, to be completely truthful, we usually ended up talking about how great our new baby was).

Now that Daniel is a toddler, I've come to appreciate these adults-only dinners even more. It feels like a luxury to be able to dine at a restaurant that doesn't feature chicken fingers on its menu. It's a treat to sit at the table and not have to hide the salt and pepper shakers. I can eat my meal slowly and deliberately, and not have to sneak in rushed mouthfuls of my food while simultaneously coaxing Daniel into taking a bite of his. To go out to a restaurant and relax -- there's the fantasy of every mother of a curious and restless toddler! Throw a movie into the mix, one viewed at the actual theater and not just "On Demand," now I'm in ecstasy!

Monday, February 16, 2009

Mommy Anthropology

I'm currently reading a chick-lit novel about two women who swap lives for a month. A single career-minded Londoner longs to settle down with the man of her dreams, so as a social experiment she trades places with an American woman who appears to have the perfect life: an enormous home in Connecticut, a handsome husband with an impressive Wall Street job, and two beautiful children who adore her. What the single girl cannot understand, however, is the impetus behind the married woman's desire to temporarily "escape" from her utopian life. The married mother-of-two explains herself as such: She loves her husband and cherishes her children. She wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. But she's lost sight of who she once was, before the roles of wife and mother took over her identity.

This isn't going to be an account of how I can relate to the character of the married woman. Pretty much any woman who has given up a career to raise her children can relate. That's old news. What I find most interesting in the book are the descriptions of upper-middle-class suburban Mommyhood, especially as it pertains to the politics of the playground and the "cliques" that form when certain mothers put their own insecure needs ahead of their children's best interests. I've witnessed this phenomenon many times myself.

When you become a stay-at-home Mom, you are no longer judged by your academic degrees, your career achievements, or even your pre-baby life experiences. People no longer want to know where you went to college, but rather where you purchased your baby's layette. The whole transition can leave you feeling just a tad lost. The same women who judged you unfairly in school have not changed -- they just have children now. Mommyhood can be a ridiculously competitive environment. Not only do you have to think about your child's needs, but you have to consider how your efforts to meet those needs will be viewed by the other Mommies. Sure, sure, all you strong women out there are probably thinking: "Not me! I'm never going to get sucked into that catty game. I don't care what other people think." And you might not. But it's hard to not feel self-conscious when other Mommies are interrogating you about the classes for which you've signed up your 20-month-old.

There will always be people in your life -- Mommies and otherwise -- who take pleasure in your pain and who delight in feeling superior to you. The best defense against these insecure wretches is to keep your head held high, and have confidence in your ability to be a wonderful mother. Don't let other people second-guess your decisions. No matter what decisions you make, the naysayers will always rear their ugly heads. What really matters is this: Do you have at least one other Mommy friend who thinks the competition game is childish and stupid? I've been lucky enough to have been blessed with a handful of women who seem to view motherhood -- especially stay-at-home motherhood -- just like I do. While we may fall victim to our own insecurities on occasion, we know that our self-worth is made up of a lot more than a prestigious pre-school or designer baby clothes. We judge other mothers on their capacity to love, not compete.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Sick Watch

The weather in Florida took a turn for the better earlier in the week, with temperatures finally hitting above 80 degrees. I suspect that this abrupt shift in heat and humidity has taken a toll on Daniel, who has developed a bit of a wheezing cough. While it could just be allergies, or even a case of too much sun and too little water, I've now entered the waiting period that every mother dreads: the sick watch.

Daniel woke up prematurely from his nap yesterday because of a coughing fit. He was already tired from a day in the sun, and this abbreviated naptime made him even more tired and cranky. As the evening progressed, I could tell he was not himself. He ate a good dinner (one of the things a mother knows is a strong indicator of her child's health) and seemed playful before bed. Upon finishing his bottle, he began coughing uncontrollably, and threw up all over the place (that place being mostly my shoulder and back). I comforted him for a while before putting him to bed. He fell asleep immediately, which was a good sign, and I began my vigil.

The sick watch vigil goes something like this: you pray that your child will fall asleep peacefully, you listen intently (usually with your ear pressed up against the door) for any little noise your child makes, and you check on your child a million times to reassure yourself that he is still sleeping/comfortable/breathing/alive. I have been very fortunate to never have endured an all-night sick watch. I was hoping that this evening wouldn't change all that. It's bad enough having a sick child when you're at home, but the inconvenience and hardship grows to monstrous proportions when you're on vacation. I was trying my hardest not to think about spending the next day at a Boca Raton public health clinic with my sick 20-month-old. Oy!

Praise G-d, Daniel slept through the night. He didn't stir until well after 8:00, which ensured that he had received a full night's rest (another measure of solid health). Still, he felt a bit flushed to me, so I resolved to get him some children's Tylenol to nip whatever his body was fighting in the bud. He has been okay so far today, but I still worry about the next day or two. I'll continue to pay closer attention to his sleeping and eating habits, and his general demeanor. I can't afford an ill child right now. So I remain on sick watch.

Monday, February 9, 2009

A Sleep Dilemma

I don't typically use this blog to complain about Daniel's sleep habits because, basically, they are tremendous. He talks himself awake in the morning (I haven't awoken to the sound of a crying baby since he was about 5 months old) and doesn't usually see my face before 8:45 am. His naps are heaven, lasting about 3 hours on average. I have no plans to change his schedule anytime soon because it works so well for him and for me. We have our little daily routine, which is predictable and dependable. Daniel is certainly thriving with structure.

Because his sleep patterns are usually so consistent, I'm baffled by the past couple of days. It all started when I began sleeping in the same room as him (the house was full; it was either that or the sofa). He would begin talking around 7:30. I'd lay still as a statue, hoping he wouldn't notice me to the side of his crib. I'm still not sure if he realized I was there, but he sure didn't stop talking. After running through his entire vocabulary, Daniel began making progressively louder animal noises. Finally, I gave in. I rolled over, said hi, and pulled him into bed with me. I tried to get him to cuddle with me under the covers, but he wanted no part of it. I stalled him by turning on early-morning cartoons, but eventually he was bored. He proclaimed, "Mom-mom," climbed off the bed, and let himself out the bedroom door.

The next morning, he started talking at 7:00. We hypothesized that he could "sense" me in the room, and was waking up earlier to get my attention. Baloney. Once Daniel moved back into his own room, it only got worse. I woke to the sound of his voice at 6:45 this morning. Though I was able to pull the covers over my head and turn away from the wall, I couldn't fall back asleep. I was too busy praying that Daniel would go back to sleep. There would be a 5-minute period of silence and I would think to myself, "Thank goodness! Maybe he'll sleep until 9." Then I'd hear, "Hot! Hot! Hot! I dunnooooo..." from the other side of the wall. All was tolerable until he started knocking on the wall through the slats of his crib. I was resigned to the fact that neither one of us was going back to sleep.

His afternoon naps have remained long and peaceful, so I suppose he's getting the amount of sleep he requires. I just don't understand why a child who normally doesn't make a peep before 8:15 am is suddenly rising with the sun. I probably shouldn't complain. I know mothers whose children wake them much earlier in the morning, and whose naps are not nearly as long as Daniel's. But when you grow accustomed to a pattern, it becomes even more of a shock to your system when that pattern is dumped so abruptly on its head!

Friday, February 6, 2009

Cock-a-Doodle-Doo!

Daniel has been talking up a storm since we arrived in Florida last week. He is adding to his vocabulary every day, and seems to have a little repertoire that he likes to perform for people. Now, in addition to "moo-ing" when asked what a cow says, he can imitate a chicken, lion, and pig. The chicken goes, "Cock! Cock!" in an impossibly high voice. The lion goes, "Grrrrrroar!" The pig sounds like heavy nose breathing. I tried to get him to snort, and this lamaze-like panting was his response. We hope to tackle the sheep and the horse next.

Daniel doesn't just say "No!" anymore. He says, "I don't know" (which sounds more like "I duhhh-nnnooooo") in response to many questions. I'm not sure if he knows what it means or if he just finds it to be an effective way to get people to stop asking so many dumb questions. He is starting to repeat many things that he hears, though thankfully that doesn't yet include the occasional curse word that slips from our lips (usually in response to something Ollie has done). He does scold Ollie, though. When the dog barks uncontrollably, Daniel shouts what can only be described as baby-talk obscenities at him.

Daniel's favorite word still seems to be "Hot." To Daniel, everything is hot. If he sees fire in person or in a picture, he says, "Hot!" If he sees a coffee pot or a steaming cup of coffee, he says, "Hot! Hot! Hot!" If he sees white, puffy clouds or steam coming from a chimney or smokestack, he says, "Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!" He says it while driving in the car. He says it while watching TV (The steam billowing from Thomas' engine is always "Hot!"). He even says it while being pushed in his stroller (most recently when he saw a landscaper using a weedwhacker and kicking up clouds of dust). You get the idea. Occasionally, Daniel says "Hot!" for no apparent reason, though I suspect that he knows exactly what he's describing.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

A Mind Like a Sponge

At almost 20 months, Daniel is learning at a pace I never would have anticipated. Now, before anyone mocks me for claiming that my child is "gifted," I must acknowledge that I've witnessed this phenomenon in many of Daniel's little friends. While not all children are such quick learners, there will always be those individuals who absorb information like a sponge. Whether it's language comprehension, logical thinking, or deductive reasoning, these children love to learn and are constantly doing it. Daniel is one of these children. His capacity for new information never fails to stun me. It seems like every day he does or says something that demonstrates a new awareness of the world around him. Very often, this rapid acquiring of knowledge has humorous consequences. Just this morning, while looking out the window at two white cranes walking on the back lawn, Daniel proclaimed, "Cock! Cock!" He thought they were chickens. While his reasoning was erroneous, he made a valid connection between what he knew about chickens and what he was seeing with his own eyes. I thought it was freakin' brilliant.

Daniel loves books, and loves to be read to. Peter or I will often sit on the floor of the playroom and read book after book to him. When one book ends, he immediately seeks out a new one. He'll bring it over and plop himself down in one of our laps. If it's Dr. Seuss' "Mr. Brown Can Moo," he'll preface the book with a loud, emphatic, "MOOOOOO!" Lately, he's been growling when you ask him what sound a lion makes. I don't recall ever having taught him this, but he inevitably picked it up somewhere. He plays clever little games during mealtimes, holding his food to his lips until you clap for him. If I start clapping when he places the food in his mouth, he'll quickly take it out and smile. This charade can go back and forth several times.

What amazes me the most about Daniel's aptitude for learning, even beyond the rate at which he acquires new information, is how much language he comprehends perfectly. I can ask him any question and I'll typically get some non-verbal response that passes as a correct answer. I can give him instructions and he will follow them. I can say, "We have to leave for Little Gym, so please go to the door," and he'll run to the laundry room and wait with his hand on the door knob. I truly can't wait until his verbal vocabulary catches up with his non-verbal comprehension. Daniel is going to be an interesting little guy. I laugh just imagining the conversations we'll have.