Like a bad date.

Dutch, when she was an infant, wanted to be held all the time. She was pretty much happy to go anywhere and do anything, as long as she was being held. I mostly just held her while I did stuff and told her about it, and she was cool with that as long as I NEVER PUT HER DOWN. When she got upset, she wanted to be closely cuddled and bounced. This was exhausting and tedious, and hard on the back, but it didn't require much mental effort.

Skipper, on the other hand, is happy to be held, but also wants to spend lots of time looking at me and chatting. She also seems to want other things I haven't yet figured out. I am often at a loss about what to DO with her. When Dutch was a baby, I had friends who said they didn't know what to do with their babies, and I thought that was weird. Obviously, all they needed to do was just be exactly like me, and I was obviously a brilliant parent. But now I understand. It's a little uncomfortable for me to be with Skipper all day, like being forced to spend lots of time with somebody with whom you don't really have anything in common, making super-awkward conversation. We have some very nice chats (though it's pretty hard to get stuff done when both your kids want to talk all the time), and that's fine. We've also worked out a system where I put her in the Bouncy Chair of Doom for short periods of time, and she watches me while I do stuff and talk to her about it in a jaunty, baby-engaging kind of way that would sound insane to any eavesdroppers. But that only gets us so far, and then we have these uncomfortable periods when neither of us knows what we're supposed to be doing.

Happily, she's now taking an extended crib nap for the first time in a long while, and I am free to (blog and) do dishes and pick up all the junk I kicked under the couch. Whee!

Godfather

I took Dutch to a big neighborhood multiple-yard-sale event last weekend. Yard sales are great for the accumulation of cheap plastic junk (!), and I figured she'd enjoy it, and she loves our friends Emma Goldman and Brendan Behan, who met us there. At the third sale we visited, she found an cheap, plastic, ugly doll that came with a box of cheap, ugly clothes. She wanted it. It cost $5.* She had $7 to spend. I was concerned that she would buy the doll and then freak out later when she found other things she wanted more and couldn't afford them, so I made her leave the doll there. She then proceeded to show her strength of character by whining and complaining almost incessantly, asking after each sale we visited "NOW can we go back and get my doll?!" After about an hour, I began to realize that I had made a major mistake, and that I should have let her buy the doll. We finally went back to the scene of the crime, and of course the doll had been purchased by some other princess-in-training. Dutch freaked out. I considered sticking a price tag on her and leaving her on the curb. Then we went around the corner, and Emma, blessings be upon her, spotted something amazing at another sale - a plastic horse head that comes with a number of grooming accessories, like a fake curling iron, combs, barrettes, and some kind of disgusting gooey makeup. Dutch promptly purchased it and was utterly thrilled. She carried the bag herself, and kept reaching in to pet the horse. She played with it all afternoon, and at bedtime she put it next to her bed, and said "I want to be able to see my pony. It can see me. I am my pony. I am looking at myself!"**

I had to include a picture, because the thing is truly spectacular. I can't believe that someone somewhere thought "Hmm. You know what would really sell well? A plastic severed horse head with barrettes. I bet that'd be terrific!" and I really can't believe that that person was RIGHT.



*Many of the items at these sales were weirdly over-priced, based on my experience of yard sales in the past. Emma Goldman's theory was that these people are all so accustomed to paying lots of money for things (it's a pretty rich neighborhood) that it didn't occur to them that, for example, used children's clothes of no particular beauty or quality shouldn't be priced at $3 apiece.

** She takes identification to an extreme. When she sees a movie, or looks at a book, or is told a story, she picks a character that she is going to "be". She used to want to be Mary Ingalls, because she had BLOND HAIR, and then as soon as she reached the point in the series where Mary went blind, she switched her identification to Laura. Apparently it's better to be brunette than blind.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

Dutch is doing the library's Summer Reading program again. As you mark off reading accomplishments (determined by the parents), you get little prizes. They actually have some pretty good prizes to pick from, because there are a lot of coupons for local businesses. Dutch, however, always rejects the good options (a ticket to a kids' play! she would have loved that!) and picks a cheap plastic toy. (The volunteer manning the table today told me that the kids overwhelmingly pick the cheap plastic toys over the much more valuable coupons - instant gratification and whatnot.) Cook and I disapprove of this strongly, and she knows this. Today she picked a cheap plastic jump rope, and Cook and I were all disapproving about it. When she stepped on it and the handle detached from the rope about a block away from the library, she burst into tears. I fixed it for her, but after we'd subsequently browbeaten her for half a block about how you have to expect cheap plastic junk to break immediately, she said "I feel sick." I felt a little sick, too, because I realized that we, in our disapproval and our desire to teach her about making wise choices etc. had just totally sucked the joy out of her prize, and made her feel really crappy. We couldn't even let her have some pleasure in her cheap plastic.

I then demonstrated my own scintillating jump roping skills, and Cook pretended to be a monster and tried to eat her, and by the time we made our way home, she was cheerful again. But I expect we killed a tiny spark inside her. Sometimes we feed the sparks, but I think we probably kill more than we kindle. It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Grr.

There is a category of advice frequently given to busy parents that drives me crazy. It's very sensible advice, and I've given it myself, hypocritically, to other parents. Here it is: Take Care of Yourself! My least favorite advice in this category is Sleep When The Baby Sleeps. Also, Make Sure You Take Time For Yourself Every Day to Exercise/Meditate/Do Your Hair/Eat Healthy Food/Sleep/Be Creative/Whatever. Again, it's VERY sensible. When I am rested and exercised and eating well, I am much happier, nicer, and more energetic, and that's good for everybody.

But... I am already taking care of people. I don't WANT to take care of anybody else, even myself. And the time that I take to Sleep/Exercise/Meditate/Etc is time that I then have to make up later on, because the dishes will still be piled up in the sink, the bag of poop-stained laundry will still be waiting by the door, we will still be out of bread. This sort of advice usually comes with a condescending suggestion that you go ahead and let the housekeeping slip a bit to get some extra time. Like... maybe you could skip ironing the sheets to make time to do some Tai Chi. Unfortunately, if our housekeeping standards slip any more, Health & Human Services will come after us. Anyway, if they slip any further, it will stress me out even more; I don't actually like living among roaming herds of dust creatures, though you'd never guess that from the state of our home.

It annoys me. How am I supposed to squeeze in time to Take Care of Myself? I keep a running list in my mind of Stuff That Needs to Be Done. When I get an unexpected break (the baby sleeps in her crib for an hour while Dutch plays by herself), I do as many of those things as I can - dishes, laundry, pumping breast milk, making granola, dinner prep, tidying, paying the bills, etc. I also go to the bathroom and/or feed myself something. In the evening, Cook comes home, and one of us chats with Skipper while watching Dutch's performances, while the other makes dinner. Then we all eat dinner, and then Cook or I get Dutch ready for bed while the other minds the baby or (if she's sleeping in the crib) does dishes. Then one of us sits with Dutch for a while while the other minds the baby and cleans or does consulting work. After we've finally got both kids down, usually sometime between 9 and 10, Cook usually does consulting work while I finish the dishes, take a shower, fold laundry, etc.

I would love to do some self-care. But when would I do it? And if I did it, who would do the dishes and the laundry? The best I can do is lots of walking with the kids, to keep me from gaining 300 pounds. I am aware that there are people who wake up at 4 AM* to work out for an hour and write a chapter of their novel before cooking a nutritious breakfast for their large happy families. But those people are scary! They don't count.

Everybody needs help (except those crazy 4-AM-wakers), and nobody can actually take care of him or herself alone. Give me some paid parental leave, good cheap childcare, good cheap health care, and THEN I'll take care of myself. Until then, I'm going to be staggering around like a flabby zombie.

* I do wake at 4 AM sometimes, but I definitely don't get up and work out, unless you count singing and sashaying around the dark living room with a 12-pound weight, while trying not to fall down from total exhaustion.

Good things

1) HA! I'm going to live forever.

2) I have instituted Quiet Time, and it is going to save my sanity. On afternoons when we're home, Dutch must spend 45 minutes in her room playing quietly (she likes to do this anyway, and the new arrangement just formalizes it).

3) We have arranged a standing babysitting/playdate exchange with Alpha Girl for the summer, which will also help preserve my sanity.

4) Skipper is freaking adorable. She seems to hate sleeping, but otherwise we think she's the best baby ever.

5) Swim lessons, at a quiet pool on a cool, sunny morning, are awesome. (Except that Dutch, who thinks her swimsuit is SO PRETTY, refuses to wear the "warmbelly" neoprene suit that would actually keep her from finishing her lesson with goosebumps, shivers, and blue lips.) I sit across the pool, usually nursing Skipper and chatting with another mom,* and I can hear Dutch talking non-stop the whole time,** and I can see her beaming. She's scared to put her head in the water, but she seems to be having a pretty good time. Her teachers look kind of tired by the end of half an hour, though.

*A mom who lived through the Rwandan genocide. I learned this today, at the end of our fifth half-hour of meaningless mommy-chitchat - it made the idyllic morning seem kind of surreal.

** It's awe-inspiring. This is a not-exaggerated sample that I heard today: "I have to point my toes just like this in ballet. I take ballet! I was in a show. I was a Princess Frog! I can point my toes really well! I'm the bestest at pointing my toes! I can't wear pointe shoes yet, but I'm really good at walking on my toes! This is my favorite swimsuit! Last night I practiced holding my breath in the bathtub and my mom showed me how to blow bubbles out my nose! She put her head in the water and she blowed bubbles that were SO BIG! Look, this is how big they were!"

wiggle wiggle wiggle

A conversation with Skipper on the changing mat. She was tired and cranky, so it's not very scintillating. Also, she wrapped up the conversation with a combination sneeze/poop that sprayed my pants with shit. I edited that out.

Five days down...lots more to go.

This morning we went to a swim lesson, then spent two hours at the playground (including a picnic lunch), then went to the library for 45 minutes of reading children's books. I spent most of that time nursing and or standing up in order to meet Skipper's various needs. An hour after we got home, Dutch said "I'm BORED. Why can't we DO something?!" It's really hard to entertain a preschooler without another preschooler.

Also, Dutch threw a tantrum over her swimsuit options this morning, and it was so awful that I'm only now recovering. This blog has now officially become an incredibly boring record of my Life as A Full-Time Mommy.

Anyway, enough whining. Here, for your viewing pleasure, is a video of Dutch, in her newly-purchased "bride dress," performing a spectacularly tone-deaf rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner, with Skipper in the foreground providing commentary.

Shots

Skipper had a well-baby checkup this morning, and I'm taking advantage of her post-vaccination sleepiness to blog. Vaccines make me feel awful. I'm torn between my public health education (must protect the herd!) and my natural tendency to avoid putting anything foreign into such a small body. We plan to fully vaccinate Skipper, just on a slightly more prolonged schedule than is recommended. Not as prolonged as Dutch's was, though, because she's going into daycare much earlier than Dutch did, and we MUST PROTECT THE HERD!

Dutch had one nasty vaccine reaction (fever and vomiting and lethargy, which qualified it as a "mild reaction" in the opinion of the medical establishment), but otherwise has weathered all her shots without trouble. Skipper seems determined to sleep for the rest of the day, with breaks for nursing. This is a normal vaccine response, and would be fine with me if I knew for sure that it'd turn out okay. (Parenting would be easy if I knew it'd all come out fine in the end.)

Anyway, Skipper is thriving. She's in the 90th percentile for height, 72nd for weight, and 66th for head circumference - another tall pinhead baby! Also, she doesn't like getting shots.

Life aquatic

Skipper, Dutch, and I stood in line for half an hour yesterday morning to sign up Dutch for free swim lessons for the week. She's super-excited for swimming; our local pool is outdoors, open only in the summer, and it opens today. Today! Dutch has tried on all her swimsuits, and is champing at the bit to get started. She's signed up for seven weeks of swim lessons this summer. The first five weeks are all at the Penguin level, which is sort of the getting-ready-to-swim level, where she's supposed to learn kicking and floating and get very comfortable putting her head in the water. The last two-week session, though, in far-off September, is at the Otter level, which is the crucial actually-learning-to-swim level. Dutch is dubious that she'll be ready for this, and I promised that she could drop the class if she wanted (or if she doesn't get promoted from Penguin).

I'd really like for Dutch to learn to swim this summer. I secretly want Dutch to be a serious swimmer, because I've loved swimming so much as an adult, and wish I had learned earlier. In my family, as long as you could get around without drowning, you were all set, so while I got to be very comfortable in the water, I never learned how to crawl, let alone spiffy things like flip turns (I still haven't learned that). I'd like Dutch to have more skills than I did, so she can both feel more comfortable in an ocean/lake/whatever and can swim in a pool for exercise.

So I'm a little too invested in Dutch's swim lessons. I'm happy she's enthusiastic, and it's going to be hard for me to let it go if she decides she doesn't want to Otter. I know that no amount of enthusiasm on my part is going to persuade her to do something she really doesn't want to do (like jumping into the pool unassisted) until she's ready. Parenting involves an awful lot of letting things go.

Anyway, tomorrow! Swim Lesson #1!

Wrong

Did I say Skipper wasn't interested in interacting with us? Totally wrong. She likes nothing more than looking serenely up into your face and chatting. A sample dialogue goes like this:

Me: Hi, sweetie!
Skipper: Gla.
Me: Gla?
(pause)
Skipper: Aeuhll.
Me: Oh? That's nice.
Skipper: Gla!
Me: Um. What's going on?
Skipper: Heuhl.
Me:I see.

She likes to talk more than Dutch did, and she really seems to think that we are actually talking.

It's important to have goals.

I've revised my daily to-do list.

1) Dress myself, and brush my teeth and hair.

2) Wash the breakfast dishes.

3) Feed myself and Dutch adequately.

4) Don't be mean to Dutch when she drives me crazy.

5) Make sure Dutch is active enough to get really sweaty at least once every day.

6) Don't let Dutch get sunburned.

7) Remember the first-aid kit on every playground trip.

8) Make sure Skipper gets her down time.

The rest of it? Like cleaning up, or doing laundry or making dinner or anything like that? Forget it. All my kid-free time (those precious moments when Skipper's sleeping in her crib and Dutch is playing quietly in her room) goes to activities like working on my resume, or pumping breast milk. (Or... blogging! Though Skipper's sleeping on my chest and Dutch is sitting at the "Art Table" coloring with Best Friend, so it's not exactly a precious moment.) I know that many moms manage two or more kids AND maintain clean homes (and, I don't know, make beautiful jewelry and write poetry in their spare time), but I AM A LAZY PERSON. I can barely manage what I'm doing. Item #4 alone takes nearly all my energy.

Yesterday I explained to Dutch that no, I do not want to stay home with her and Skipper for the rest of their childhood,* and that I will lose my mind if I don't have an outside-the-home job of some kind. She looked so perplexed; the notion that I have wants and needs and define myself in any way other than as her mother is totally incomprehensible to her. When I was a kid, I had no understanding of that either. It never occurred to me that my parents might be interested in doing anything other than tending to all MY needs. If I'd even thought about it, I'm sure I would have thought that when I wasn't around they just hibernated, or maybe blinked out of existence temporarily. I don't think this is because they catered to all my demands or anything - I think I was just spectacularly self-centered. I think all kids are like that. I hope I wasn't specially selfish.

* I don't even know why she wants this. She likes spending time with other kids way more than staying home.