Why I haven't written lately...

'nuff said?

Like a slap of aftershave after using a month old razor, summer came to an abrupt halt today. Both girls started school, one in 4 yr. old pre-K and the other in kindergarten. If the emotional pulls weren't enough, a parent also gets bombarded with forms, information, rules, numbers and whatever else. All nice enough and from good people, but I thought it was the kids that were supposed to be overwhelmed by the end of the day. I don't even know where to start. So I won't, for tonight.

Now that I'm back, I'm sure you'll hear more.

A Nightmare on My Street

Yesterday
"I had nightmares last night, but I can't tell you what they were about because you'd freak your head out." -- Genevieve

5:40 a.m.
Hah! It's not Genevieve's nightmares that would freak me out. I just spent what seemed like hours in the midst of a bad dream that sends shivers down my spine. It was about Genevieve, and she refused to go to sleep for hours and hours, kept getting up, and didn't care about what I said or did, or what consequences or punishments I would use.

Currently, the parents of this house maintain a thin veneer of control over the children. Putting aside the nice desire to fully embody love and logic and the application of natural consequences, when metaphorical push comes to real-world shove, we rely on other strategies to exert control. My nightmare was of a child who fully and completely realized that she could not be controlled. It's good to have parental 'authority,' but worse than Freddy Krueger scary to be confronted with the fragility of it in the middle of the night.

Bored?

She-Who-Organizes-Things-And-Creates-Lists came up with this one for the tykes of the house. For use any time that particular complaint of childhood comes up.

Bored?

• Read a book
• Color
• TV (sometimes)(just a little bit)
• Write a note
• Organize a shelf
• Sweep the floor
• Brush your hair
• Fold blankets
• Visit friends (sometimes)
• Put away toys
• Dance
• Dress up
• Cook with mommy (sometimes)
• Play with toys
• Music--piano, flutes, violin
• Brush your teeth
• Dust
• Play outside (in nice weather)
• Swing (in nice weather)
• Yoga

Does 'sigh' have an emoticon?

As I've indicated, there has been some drama in our house as of late with our older (five year old) daughter. For example, being sent for timeout because she failed to act on a parental request.

First, the last second attempt to comply with the request once she realizes that she has incurred the timeout consequence:

"No, wait! I'm doing it! See! No, no.... I'm doooooing it!" she wails as she is shooed of to her bedroom.

Then, the screaming and door slamming (oooh, extra two minutes for that).

"I WAS doing it. You... YOU are MAKING this bad!" she bellows at the top of her well-exercised lungs. [Sigh] Just think--when the weather gets warmer and the windows are opened, we'll be able to share these moments with the entire neighborhood.

---

Finally, Genevieve and I had our moderated talk. She-Who-Referees-Family-Disputes presided. It went remarkably well considering how difficult it is for a 5-year old to listen plainly to the impact of her tantrums. Genevieve wants us to treat each other more nicely. I am willing to do that, but she needs to be able to listen and respond to my requests.

I was detailed about the difficulties of her behavior during pickup at her pre-school, and she agreed to cooperate fully with departure if I would give her two minutes after my arrival. We agreed on that, but haven't decided on what happens if she is not cooperative. The natural consequence of being late for the bus (daddy has to stand out in the cold and extend his homeward commute by another half hour, the rest of the family eating dinner a half-hour later) imposes penalties on many other people than Genevieve, and she's just as happy playing in the snow at the bus stop and having my attention for more time.

So, we need something else, and haven't figured it out yet. We'll start finding out how this chat went beginning this Wednesday.

Fed up

My daughter and I will be having a moderated problem solving session soon. Within one minute of rising this morning, I heard myself saying to the children, "What? Are you deaf?" It was not a sparkly daddy moment, and I later apologized. But my right-out-of-the-gate breakdown this morning is merely a symptom of a wider issue.

My wife points out that I am engaged in a recent cycle of power struggles with our older daughter, and She-Who-Is-On-My-Side offered advice on other potential approaches. While this may be a correct analysis of the situation, this was not well received by yours truly. You see, I feel like I've tried those different approaches, over and over, and I am officially FED UP.

Genevieve recently spent over an hour in her room for repeated tantrums and non-cooperation, and it was a pleasant hour for me and boring for her. It got her attention. That reinforced my view of a new approach with clear-cut and rapidly increasing consequences. Though I am uncertain as to it's long-term success, I do know that the other suggestions have not worked. My wife thinks that if I improved my application of different approaches, then that could bring about change, but I now believe that my daughter behaves differently with me even if I relate to her exactly as does her mother. Where I'm at now is that I've tried the change daddy approach with no success, and I am now trying the change daughter approach.

This is an evolving thing, and She-Who-Is-On-My-Side and I have more talking to do. What is certain is that we do have a parental difference of opinion and a strained father-daughter relationship.

Insert name of child here

"I have to go pee-pee!" announces our three-year-old Reesa, looking at me while standing up with her hand between her legs.

"Okay, run to the bathroom," I say, duly fulfilling my role in her bathroom ritual. She doesn't need my blessing, but if she cannot get a permissive response from a parent, she will continue to stand there and try to get one. I suppose that I could try and train her out of the ritual, but at some point I look at the big picture. The big picture includes some internal and mysterious gauges measuring a variety of father/husband energy levels, including Overall Energy, Patience Energy, and Creative Energy. These are three of the items at the center of my emotional dashboard, and all are critical for successful problem solving or getting out of jams.

In terms of this exchange, which I or my wife will face many of the times that the tyke feels the call of nature, I just figure it's a ritual whose time will pass and I don't spend any of my energies on it. I save those energies for the other things that I (rightly or wrongly) seem to think that she should be ready to get. You know, stuff like (insert appropriate name, or select one item, at bolded text):

• "Name of child, what is this name of clothing article doing in the middle of the hallway?"
• "Name of child, are you jumping/standing/climbing on that name of piece of furniture?"
• "Name of child, are you are using your outside voice on the inside of my house?"
• "Name of child, what are you doing with that pen/pencil/crayon/marker/paint brush?"
• "Name of child, no, you may not change your clothes for the third/fourth/fifth/etc. time today."
• "Name of child, did you wash your hands after going to the bathroom? And don't tell me that you did, because you are out of there much too quickly."
• "Names of all children in the house, who used the toilet last? I want you to come over here now because you need to flush it/I need to talk to you about the 3 yards of toilet paper stuffed in there."

Looking over the list, it boils down to: Hygiene, housekeeping, and preservation of peace and assets. Hmm, that looks about right.

Were you saying something?

I yelled at my daughter Genevieve this morning when she was dawdling on getting into her car seat, despite having a lot of time to do it. I had been trying to leave the house for the past fifteen minutes and we were now on the verge of being late for Quaker meeting. Yes, those Quakers of peace and evolving discernment--the irony is not lost on me.

"Daddy, I don't like it when you yell at me. It's not fair when I can't yell at you, but you yell at me."

Which makes sense. I was presuming that she had buckled her seat belts without her body being in the seat (who else did this? elves?) and she was unable to get it unbuckled, but I didn't actually see how the buckles got locked. However, when I'm yelling at her, it's usually not because of a mis-presumption. Lately, it is because my words directed to her are being completely ignored. So I try to bring this up.

"Okay, I can get it that you don't think it's fair that you can't yell at me, but then I turn around and yell at you. That makes some sense. You know, I often yell at you because it seems like you can't hear me. So by being louder, then maybe you'll hear me. Or maybe because you're ignoring me. Whatever it is, I get very frustrated by that, and sometimes I yell."

I stop. There are a few moment of silence, then she says:

"What?"

I am quiet. I wait. It doesn't take long.

"What were you saying? I didn't hear you."

It's so good that I'm on my way to a Quaker meeting. I need it.

County fair talk

Last night I was reflecting on the great job done by the people at the pre-school and childcare center that our children attend twice a week, and today my wife reported on another specific instance of why we think highly of them.

It was field trip day to the county fair for Genevieve's class, and my wife took both of my daughter's (neither had class today, but they were both invited). Following the instructions to arrive 15 minutes prior to bus departure, my wife listened to the pre-departure safety and expectations talk.

First, the instructor (Barb) talked about how they would proceed to and board the city bus, and noted exactly who were the safe adults (the teachers and parents). On the bus there might be some people who looked nice and were nice, and some who looked nice and weren't nice, and who didn't look nice but were actually nice, and some who didn't look nice and were not nice. And no one could be able to tell who was who--not the teachers, not the parents, and not the children. So it was very important to remember exactly who the safe adults were, and only leave the bus or walk with one of the safe adults.

My wife noted, and I agreed, that this explanation seemed to cover all of the important points with the right amount of emphasis without getting hung up on who might be "dangerous" or "scary" or whatever else it is that we adults might have apprehension about.

Then came the expectations about the fair, including an itinerary of what they might expect to do, and what might be possible depending on behavior and /or time. Again, a good setup to create a framework for appropriate behavior and what to look forward to doing next.

I try to provide my kids with that sort of framework on the days that I am home with them -- if only I could do it with such ease!

All photos from the fair had other children in them (and no permission), so I'll post a cell phone photo of Reesa from a few days ago.

Spread the pink

I wonder how many little ways of adapting we've absorbed in that never-ending effort for ease and peace in the family, such as...

We never put the pink lids on the pink sippy cups. In fact, we don't mate any color lid to it's sippy cup of identical color, but the only color of any consequence in the matter is pink. This enables up to double the spread of pink amongst the sippy cup community, because pink, of course, is the most highly sought shade of drinking vessel.

Woe to the poor babysitter who mates a pink lid to a pink cup without a second duplicate cup to offer the other child!

Or the library routine that I've developed to maintain civility when entering and exiting our two story local library. Upon entering, one child gets to choose the elevator or the stairs (lately, it's been almost exclusively the elevator), and when we're ready to leave, the other child chooses. For the elevator, they split the button pushing.

Remind, nag, scold

The four goals of childhood misbehavior are to gain attention, power, revenge, or to display inadequacy. Reesa is going all out on the first two. The symptoms of the first one--

How do you feel? --- Bothered, annoyed
What do you usually do? --- Remind, nag, scold
How does your child usually respond? --- Stops temporarily (or doesn't, in the case of Reesa). Later, misbehaves again.
Goal --- Attention

Yup, I'm right there with all of that. Just have to remind myself to get out of the cycle of responding on their terms, especially remind nag scold. I feel like that has become a subconscious negative mantra lately.

Nooo!

Photo by Betsy Haynes

You might be hearing more about Genevieve in the near future than Reesa. Not that Reesa doesn't have interesting and entertaining things to say, and not that she fails at being cute, and not that we don't love her. It's just that, lately, much of Reesa's communication has been less than eloquent.

Sometimes when she wears underpants, she doesn't urinate for over two and a half hours. For us parents, this is the danger zone in which she will get distracted by what she is doing and pee where ever she stands. So we will invite her to the bathroom, and when she refuses we offer her the choice between going pee-pee herself or putting on diapers.

"NOOOOO! I won't go pee-pee, and I won't wear pullups!"

Screaming, whining and shouting NOOO! are frequent fliers out of the mouth of Reesa these days, and for us parent it's a lot of trying to balance firmness with love and wondering if your even remotely on the right track when week after week it's the same behavior.

Daddy diary Dec 2003 - Jan 2004

I found a briefly attempted and abandoned early attempt to diary the fatherhood experience, covering the first month and a half following Genevieve's birth. Here it is.

Daddy diary

15 Dec 03

Genevieve was born six days ago, and already Marilee and I are developing a first-time parent routine for accomplishing both familiar and unfamiliar tasks. There is no routine to cuddling or staring at our daughter. Between Marilee and myself, I am the one with limited experience with newborns.

My daughter is healthy, of average weight and length, and to my eyes she is tiny, with unimaginable little fingers. I thought her digits would be pudgier, with the creases poorly defined, and not in proportion to adult hands. I was surprised to see long, delicate fingers with complex knuckle creases attached to a well-formed hand. On the night of her birth I must have told everyone I saw how amazing were her perfectly manicured fingernails, slightly more reddish-purple than her fingers.

For my wife, who delivered Genevieve via normal vaginal birth, there have been daily recovery milestones. Today's celebration was the wearing of footwear other than loosened tennis shoes, as the water retention from the final trimester diureses. Marilee, aware that her body will never be quite the same, nonetheless is ecstatic at the return of some of her "former body."

Last night my wife took the first diaper change, so I had the gift of sleeping five hours in a row. Six days into fatherhood, I am lucky to have a child that usually sleeps when not feeding or getting her diaper changed. This is no worse than final exam week, and in many ways less stressful. We are blessed to have the ability to provide health care, shelter, food and lots of love to our daughter.

16 Dec 03, Tuesday

Notes for dads about breastfeeding wives:

1. Post-partum, day three or four is likely to be the worst. Milk has not come in yet, baby has not figured out how that nipple works, and mom is frazzled because nothing is working. Be prepared to be highly supportive on this day. (This was the most useful advice I received from another dad, given to me a couple of days in advance so that I could remember it!)

2. There are opportunities to be an active partner in the early stages of breastfeeding--it is a four handed job early on, and once latched on, mom may need something but not be willing to risk moving. My new animal totem is the gopher.

3. No cow jokes unless your wife offers them first, and even then at your own risk.

17 Dec 03

Things to try with a cranky infant at 2 a.m.:

Set her on top of a clothes washer or dryer and run a load of clothes. Stay with her to insure safety.

Things to NOT try with a cranky infant at 2 a.m.:

If your child calms favorably while perched atop these vibrating labor saving devices, resist the urge to duct tape her to the appliance for an hour while you get your first hour of sleep for the night. Yes, this thought will occur to you.

Notes for dads about breastfeeding wives, continued:

4. New breastfeeding positions are best tried when mom is well-rested.

26 Dec 2003

I do most of the diaper changing Marilee does all of the breast feeding. That's how we divide some of the tasks here. For a while, I thought it would be cool if men could breast feed, but then I thought about the inconveniences of larger (than men's) breasts that I've heard from so many women over the years and realized I enjoy the happy-go-lucky low maintenance male version of useless breasts.

We don't offer Genevieve a pacifier yet, so as to make sure she gets used to momma's nipple, so to calm her I sometimes offer her my clean pinkie finger. It was quite a surprise first time I did this. Babies have vigorous suction, beyond what I thought such a little body could sustain.

30 Dec 2003

Ooo, not too much sleeping going on here. Genevieve has gas, or other aches, and cries in spurts. Usually, this happens in the evening or overnight.

Footie pajamas are my favorite baby clothing. One simple outfit, no socks to struggle to put on only to pick up off the floor later (unless the dogs see it first-yummy!), and it keeps baby warm. I prefer the kind with the snaps down both legs. If you have one leg that doesn't open, it is sometimes a struggle to get that leg in. Zippers are right out, for partly aesthetic, partly practical reasons. The practical is that zippers lock from the foot up to the chin, but when I change a diaper I want to leave the top half on and unfasten and peel up the bottom half. This way, at least the top of baby stays warm. Also, zippered outfits don't seem to be as well made.

Genevieve went to the pediatrician yesterday, and weighed in at seven pounds, twelve ounces, having gained seven ounces in six days. I enjoyed what may be our last peds visit not involving illness or vaccinations for some time to come.

My parents left town yesterday. It was great to have their company and their assistance. Mom helped to calm Genevieve, did laundry and helped in the kitchen. Dad helped put up family pictures, and fixed and assembled the rocking horse from the Standifer's. It was also great to see Dad after his recent illnesses and pacemaker installation. He looked in good health, was able to go on short walks (less than one mile), and had good energy throughout the day.

6 January 2004, Tuesday

I never really thought very much about the cheerleading aspect of parenthood. I encourage her in burping, hiccoughing, eye contact, passing gas, and anything else see can do. Imagine how I’ll be when she is in sports or music or whatever.

Genevieve has a liking for Frank Sinatra music. When she gets her evening fussies, we crank up Ol’ Blue Eyes and dance the foxtrot, and she calms fairly quickly.

8 January 2004, Thursday

On January 3, Genevieve developed her first tears, noticed while crying during a diaper change (of course). The next day, we noticed that her left eye was goopy, and read that was a function of the duct in the inner corner of the eye that drains away tears not being fully developed. This is normal, and can take up to a year to fully develop.

She occasionally will track my face from side to side, and a little bit up to front. She is awake more hours now than her first week, though I don’t know how many. She occasionally coos to herself, awake and alert, moving her limbs and looking around. She responds to loud sounds, and sleeps well in noisy public places. On her second day, she was already lifting her head 45 degrees for a few seconds while on her belly. She can currently hold her head unsupported, though with not much control. Marilee has noticed her smiling a little bit.

25 Jan 2004, Sunday

Genevieve now repeatedly smiles when she is content and in reaction to positive stimulus from us (such as smiling at her or making funny noises of faces). Rebecca is here with her two 3-year olds, and they are a handful, especially Ellie, who will instigate chasing and shouting at the dogs.

Current frustration

Reesa is a two-year old. I mention this to emphasize the polarities of her age-induced personality: one moment, the embodiment of squeaky voiced china doll cuteness (“I’m going to the ped-a-tician now. I feel yucky.”); and the next moment, having a ninety decibel screaming fit about…well, it’s often hard to figure out, because she refuses to use her words.

“Reesa! You have words. YOU NEED TO USE THEM.” Oh, how many times have I said some variation of that?

Lately, I have fallen into the trap of crossing the line between being firm and being dominating with Reesa. One example is that when she is wearing underwear (she is sometimes in diapers), every couple of hours she needs a reminder to go to the toilet. Sometimes when she refuses, such as when we are about to go out, I place her on the toilet anyway. I am frustrated because I know that even if she does not go potty now, she will need to go very soon and she often does not initiate going to the toilet until it is too late. When we are out, it means that I have to clean up the mess, and is often a lot of extra work. That is an example of a situation that will cause me to attempt to “correct” in a way that I believe is probably not a very good solution. But when I’m in the middle of it, I often feel like I am out of patience. The alternatives are difficult to find when I’m in the middle of it.

A fable will do

I've generally been able to let me children know when I don't know an answer to a question. Sometimes I'll say something like this: "Well, I'm not sure why that is, but maybe..." And the remainder will be filled in with my best guess or what I know about similar situations.

If I simply say, “I don’t know,” Genevieve will reply, “Make something up, daddy.” She wants an explanation for everything, and if she can't get that then she wants a conjecture, and failing that a fable will do. She insatiably and always wants to know.

So when she is asking for the 21st reason during the fifth minute of a car ride, my choices are:
(1) to remember how I once wanted to know why for everything, or
(2) to say "This is the last one, then I'm out of why's", or
(3) to start providing stories with increasingly less connection to plausible reality, or
(4) to bang my head against the steering wheel while softly whimpering.

Number four is recommended only while at a complete stop. Other than that, they are equally effective (or ineffective) as a coping mechanism.

Car seat wrestling

Genevieve's current fixation is drawing cats. One fine sample is included here. Cats, cats, cats.

Reesa can reliably count to 10. She also knows that eleven is next, but after that it skips to eight and who knows where else.

We made sock puppets today, and then had a sock/finger puppet show. The concept of keeping one's head below the level of the table top (and the puppets above it) was a bit foreign for the kids, especially for Reesa. It was very cute. We all took turns handling the puppets and being audience members

Earlier in the day, Genevieve threw a nuclear meltdown tantrum at Quaker house, following the break of meeting during the social time. I carried her out to the car, strapped her into her five-point seat belt, locked the car and went back into the Meeting House. I was lucky in two ways--one is that she cannot yet get out of her seat belt by herself, and second that it was neither too warm or cold to leave her in car to run some of the energy out of her tantrum. I have been dealing with these tantrums for a couple of months now, mostly at pickup time at her preschool. I think the part I dislike the most is that she is large enough now that when she is flailing about it is actually something of a wrestling match to pin her and latch her into her car seat.

We are now starting pre-K assessments by our local school district for Genevieve. Part of that process is to fill out a developmental survey. Some of the questions ask for information about the detail in which the child can draw. Her drawing of two girls was one of the ones on my mind while answering the survey.

Little things

I once wrote a post about the nirvana that is synchronized napping. Yesterday there was no napping, and I don't want to recount the H-E-double-hockey-sticks I went through yesterday afternoon and evening. Enough said about yesterday.

Genevieve is putting out some interesting drawings. They make me smile. When I get some hardware back in place, I will have to share it on a future post.

Many thanks to Lois for giving me a three hour break this afternoon, and to Branda for bringing her kids out for a playdate. We all needed that. It's the little things that keep you going.

Tonight, I kept a more cool approach to Genevieve with her multiple times out of bed (only twice this evening). I didn't cuddle with her in bed. I couldn't afford to fall asleep early yet again, since tomorrow's a work day and the house had exploded into a scattering of dirty dishes, books, crayons and papers within the past 24 hours. One time I walked her back to bed, listened to her complaints about missing her lost stuffed animals Freddie and Madeleine, gave her my bear and told her that she was capable of calming herself to sleep. Doesn't always work, but this time it did.

Reesa is very interested in who is happy. "Are you happy Daddy? Is Ge-e-ieve happy? Dat man in da book is not happy."

Solo daddy

Marilee left for a conference in Florida this morning, and I had the first of four solo daddy days. I am not typically a single parent, so there is some mental adjustment involved, but I think the biggest problem will be getting enough sleep. Especially when I fall asleep with one of the children at their bedtime and wake up after three hours. I don't get back to sleep very easily when that happens, which explains why I'm still awake at this hour.

Reesa woke from her nap this afternoon with a complaint of a sore right leg. Woke up her sister with her crying, and she just sat on the floor wailing and holding her leg and asking for ice. She tends to have these very specific body ache complaints that respond well to one dose of pain reliever. It reminds me of the body aches that I would have when I was young, especially in my legs. Not only do you have different aches and pains as a child (compared to an adult), but you experience pain in a different way. As and adult, I bang my shin, hop around, mutter some four-letter words under my breath, and a minute later I’m moving on, albeit with a limp. Kids bang their shin, and they either don’t notice it or it’s a five minute cry fest, complete with ice packs and demands for a bandage.