...Please don't take a picture...
Some days raising a child are pure magic; Abbie is a perfect angel shunning all naughty forms of entertainment, like stuffing foreign objects in her mouth or playing in the dishwasher, in favor of playing quietly with her toys in the living room, or peacefully reading books in her room, content to play with me or go solitaire, allowing me to accomplish chores as needed. Maybe she’ll even show off a new trick like hopping safely down the stairs on her butt or speaking a new word. Then there are days like yesterday where my sole motivation is the knowledge that naptime or bedtime is only X hours, Y minutes, and Z seconds away.
The excitement started early when Abbie demanded liberation from her high chair before finishing her milk. Usually she sucks down her milk and a few handfuls of Tasteeos while I prepare my breakfast and Abbie-proof the house by closing the basement gate, closing the dog’s kennel with her food dish inside, closing the bathroom door, and generally making the entire house off-limits except for her room, which has books, and the living room, which has toys. Yesterday though she wanted down with half her sippy cup remaining and before I could add milk to my cereal. I shrugged, set her down, and sent her on her way with sippy cup in hand. Since mommy had an usually late arrival time and was wandering the house preparing for the day I figured she just wanted to spend time with mommy, whining for her attention.
My first big clue that yesterday would be rough was when mommy had already left for work and Abbie hunted me down to try to coax me into reading to her before I finished breakfast. Usually I enjoy a leisurely breakfast and read the newspaper while she softly does something that doesn’t involve my input. She’s usually so well behaved during the lovely first 90 minutes of her day that I have enough time to not only eat my breakfast in peace, but clean up the breakfast dishes along with a few other assorted clutter piles before she seeks me out to entertain her. Yesterday though she was whining at my side with book in hand before I could slurp the remaining milk from my cereal bowl. I did my best to ignore her, but her steady needling prodded me to slurp quickly.
I read to her for a little while, and then returned to the kitchen to clean up and empty the dishwasher. There are two sounds in the world that will send Abbie running with delight to its source: The sound of the front door closing when mommy comes home, and the sound of the dishwasher door opening. Naturally Abbie came running into the kitchen as soon as the door swung open to grab utensils (nothing new there) and put them in her mouth (that was new). I don’t mind when she pulls clean dishes out since I have to put those away anyway, but pulling dirty dishes out doubles my work load since I have to put them away twice, plus they’re dirty and likely covered with germs making them potentially harmful to handle and chew in spite of their immune system building capabilities. I tell her “no,” which she hears, processes, and decides to keep playing in the dishwasher anyway. She may have learned this behavior from the dog that does the same thing when I tell her “no.” Obviously if I want Abbie to respect my authority I need to crack down on discipline with the dog.
After much knocking away of hands and screaming in frustration at the closed dishwasher, I lead her into her room for a relaxing reading session. Abbie grabbed a book, and I started reading it. I tried folding some clean laundry while reading since I have most of her books memorized anyway, but that did not please her. For the entire time I folded laundry, she whined to grab my undivided attention in case something needed pointed at. When I did focus on her books, I quickly realized that she was not interested in leisurely reading where she turns a page, I read the page, she scans the page for objects of interest, and we repeat the cycle until I need to wander off to take care of something important like a ringing phone, a boiling pot, or a vomiting cat. She was interested instead in extreme reading, where someone (me) must be pointing at and reading something at all times. Should the reader take a break to rest his eyes, clear his allergen-impacted sinuses, or inhale, Abbie would immediately commence whining in horrible anguish as if I had done something atrocious like step on her feet or brought two baby brothers home from the hospital to torture her for the next 16 years.
With a lot of patience and some extra snacks (for both of us), we made it to nap time. Fortunately she took a nice long nap that gave me enough time to half-complete the sudoku puzzle in today’s paper before realizing that I made a mistake somewhere and completely ruined the puzzle. Unfortunately she was in no better mood when she awoke. This child who happily eats spinach every night for supper refused to eat her afternoon applesauce, which could be a first for her, not counting the time she had the flu although I think she still ate then, she was just very unhappy about it and threw it up later.
And so I coped with her grumpiness for the rest of the night, reading to the extreme when I could, and listening to her whine when I couldn’t. Ellie had a busy night at the hospital, sparing her exposure to most of the bellyaching. She said she wished she could stay with her because it sounded like Abbie needed her mommy, or possibly the other way around. I told her not to worry about it, that I could handle her for the next 2 hours, 36 minutes, and 39 seconds.
The excitement started early when Abbie demanded liberation from her high chair before finishing her milk. Usually she sucks down her milk and a few handfuls of Tasteeos while I prepare my breakfast and Abbie-proof the house by closing the basement gate, closing the dog’s kennel with her food dish inside, closing the bathroom door, and generally making the entire house off-limits except for her room, which has books, and the living room, which has toys. Yesterday though she wanted down with half her sippy cup remaining and before I could add milk to my cereal. I shrugged, set her down, and sent her on her way with sippy cup in hand. Since mommy had an usually late arrival time and was wandering the house preparing for the day I figured she just wanted to spend time with mommy, whining for her attention.
My first big clue that yesterday would be rough was when mommy had already left for work and Abbie hunted me down to try to coax me into reading to her before I finished breakfast. Usually I enjoy a leisurely breakfast and read the newspaper while she softly does something that doesn’t involve my input. She’s usually so well behaved during the lovely first 90 minutes of her day that I have enough time to not only eat my breakfast in peace, but clean up the breakfast dishes along with a few other assorted clutter piles before she seeks me out to entertain her. Yesterday though she was whining at my side with book in hand before I could slurp the remaining milk from my cereal bowl. I did my best to ignore her, but her steady needling prodded me to slurp quickly.
I read to her for a little while, and then returned to the kitchen to clean up and empty the dishwasher. There are two sounds in the world that will send Abbie running with delight to its source: The sound of the front door closing when mommy comes home, and the sound of the dishwasher door opening. Naturally Abbie came running into the kitchen as soon as the door swung open to grab utensils (nothing new there) and put them in her mouth (that was new). I don’t mind when she pulls clean dishes out since I have to put those away anyway, but pulling dirty dishes out doubles my work load since I have to put them away twice, plus they’re dirty and likely covered with germs making them potentially harmful to handle and chew in spite of their immune system building capabilities. I tell her “no,” which she hears, processes, and decides to keep playing in the dishwasher anyway. She may have learned this behavior from the dog that does the same thing when I tell her “no.” Obviously if I want Abbie to respect my authority I need to crack down on discipline with the dog.
After much knocking away of hands and screaming in frustration at the closed dishwasher, I lead her into her room for a relaxing reading session. Abbie grabbed a book, and I started reading it. I tried folding some clean laundry while reading since I have most of her books memorized anyway, but that did not please her. For the entire time I folded laundry, she whined to grab my undivided attention in case something needed pointed at. When I did focus on her books, I quickly realized that she was not interested in leisurely reading where she turns a page, I read the page, she scans the page for objects of interest, and we repeat the cycle until I need to wander off to take care of something important like a ringing phone, a boiling pot, or a vomiting cat. She was interested instead in extreme reading, where someone (me) must be pointing at and reading something at all times. Should the reader take a break to rest his eyes, clear his allergen-impacted sinuses, or inhale, Abbie would immediately commence whining in horrible anguish as if I had done something atrocious like step on her feet or brought two baby brothers home from the hospital to torture her for the next 16 years.
With a lot of patience and some extra snacks (for both of us), we made it to nap time. Fortunately she took a nice long nap that gave me enough time to half-complete the sudoku puzzle in today’s paper before realizing that I made a mistake somewhere and completely ruined the puzzle. Unfortunately she was in no better mood when she awoke. This child who happily eats spinach every night for supper refused to eat her afternoon applesauce, which could be a first for her, not counting the time she had the flu although I think she still ate then, she was just very unhappy about it and threw it up later.
And so I coped with her grumpiness for the rest of the night, reading to the extreme when I could, and listening to her whine when I couldn’t. Ellie had a busy night at the hospital, sparing her exposure to most of the bellyaching. She said she wished she could stay with her because it sounded like Abbie needed her mommy, or possibly the other way around. I told her not to worry about it, that I could handle her for the next 2 hours, 36 minutes, and 39 seconds.
posted by Matt at
9:59 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home