Crime and Punishment

Today began what I have been seriously dreading since before I even became a parent. It was the day B stopped listening to me and started testing the boundaries.

We were up in the play area and he started slamming (slapping, really) his hands on my face and yelling "no!", all while laughing. I told him no, stop it, it hurts, tried to show him a gentle touch instead - to no avail. He just kept doing it. Finally I figured it was a bid for attention - so I played with him for a bit; but he kept doing it. Fed up, I took him downstairs.

Once down there, he started putting his hand on the TV screen, looking back at me with a big smile. I kept telling him my usual no, don't touch, etc, but he just laughed and kept doing it. I pulled his hand away, kept doing it. Pulled his whole body away, kept doing it. With no other ideas, I picked him up and plunked him in his room, slamming the door. I timed it for five minutes and then went to retrieve him (he was hysterical), giving him hugs and explaining how he has to listen to me when I say no, etc. And two seconds later he runs over to the TV, laughing, and puts his hands on it. Again the nos, don't touchs, pulling him away, putting on my most serious voice and face, getting down on his level, making it all very important...kept doing it. So I slammed him in his room again. More hysterical crying for five minutes. More retrieving his hot, sweaty, crying self and explaining what no means. Only to have him run over to the TV again.

By this time it was overdue for dinner and bedtime so I just brought him into the kitchen and thankfully those two things went well - you would never guess what had just transpired. I think he was just really tired - he conked right out.

But I feel defeated. I don't think he got it at all. I think it was just a big naughty game, with strange and inexplicable trips to his room that made no sense. He was obviously upset by it, but not enough to make the connection between that and his behavior. I'm just really worried that this is what is going to happen from now on - he's going to blatantly misbehave because it's fun, and not care when I punish him.

I hate to make the connection, but my dog was the same. She never listened to me, never came when I called her, never got it when I put her somewhere else as punishment, either. No matter how much authority I put in my voice, no matter how much confidence I had behind me. She just didn't care. 

So the question is, what the heck do you do? Is this approach all wrong? I don't think it's ok to just ignore this stuff - this is where it starts. But what do you do when they think it's a game and just laugh at you? No matter how fierce your voice, face, etc? I'm at a loss. Suggestions welcome.

Playground politics

I don't know if people get as stressed out as I do taking their young children to the playground. From posts I've seen online I'm guessing that yes, some do. One woman wrote very eloquently about the amount of anxiety surrounding taking small kids or babies in public at all - the constant terror of the kid "having a meltdown", of being looked at as a bad parent, of people being mean to you. And I hate to say it...but all of this stuff is very real. I have had people be mean to me in public because my kid wasn't being a perfect angel at that moment - and I used to be one of those bitches who assumed if your child makes so much as a peep that you suck and "don't know how to control your kid". I never said anything to anyone but I'm sure I did a lot of eye-rolling and loud sighing. All of which I would now retract if I could, believe me. 

But yes, I can see how women become very isolated and afraid to even leave the house - at a certain point the stress of being out isn't worth it. As a single parent I kind of don't have that luxury - I don't have a husband coming home every night to connect me to the "real" world. So we HAVE to get out every day whether I feel like it or not. And for cost effectiveness, public playgrounds it is.

I think I've come a long way in learning the subtle etiquette of the playground and trying to relax and be cool...but I'll freely admit I still kind of hate it. I hate the screaming and pushing matches that almost always result from the pile of generic sand toys that seem to be everywhere. HATE IT. I wish bringing of personal toys to public playgrounds was banned. I have never brought our toys because I don't want them to be carried off home innocently by other kids...and I don't trust B to share. I know this is shitty, but I just don't. And I don't want my kid to be the mean one pushing everyone away from his toys and throwing a fit when someone touches something of his. I know this is something he's going to have to learn soon. But can it please wait until I'm not in my third trimester anymore? Because right now I really can't deal.

So our trips to the playground almost entirely consist of me reprimanding B for pulling things out of other kids' hands, flinging sand in their faces, and running off with their toys. Then there's the fun of grabbing him in the nick of time before he gets his head kicked in by kids on swings (we had such a close call today everyone in the park froze and gasped and I pulled every muscle in my body while sprinting to grab him out of the way - and screamed "Jesus Christ!!!" at the top of my lungs). 

Then there's the fun of standing around with the hot sun beating on my face while he runs back and forth on the same piece of equipment that has precipitous drops on both sides and tons of bigger kids running over him like steamrollers, when I'm desperate to sit down because I feel like my vagina is going to fall out, but I can't because these playgrounds have one bench and it's always covered with people's diaper bags, and too far away if I need to sprint to keep B from getting his head kicked in by kids on swings. 

Thankfully one park in particular has really nice people who tend to all "get it" and understand when my kid throws a fit and are on top of their own kids' behavior so I don't worry so much about B being pushed around by bigger kids. But still I find the whole experience stressful, exhausting, and unpleasant. Still, I accept that for B's benefit, going to playgrounds is something we must do, and just about every day. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though.

Passed!!!

So today I subjected myself to the 3 hour glucose test. I had a lot of fear about it - especially last night. As usual I obsessed on unimportant shit - worry about getting B to the BK on time, worry about feeling sick without eating breakfast, worry about finding the building, worry about parking, worry about being allowed to take the test at all (what if they didn't have my paperwork? What if the whole ACA thing screwed up my records and I no longer have coverage? What if I showed up too late - the lab closed at 2?). But it all worked out. I did cut it very close for time - the final blood draw happened five minutes before they closed. But they did have my records, I do still appear to have coverage, and I did do the entire test, all four blood draws, and didn't walk around or drink any water. I didn't throw up or pass out. In fact, despite not eating for 14 hours, I felt totally fine. And was easily occupied by my phone, Kindle, the book Lean In, and magazine (Harper's), for all that time. I guess I have a higher tolerance for boredom than I thought!

Got my results just now and I appear to have passed all four - although you can see the two hour I barely passed. One thing I don't get, though - why is the one hour cut off for the one hour test 130 whereas the one hour cut off for the three hour test 179? I mean, if they gave that number instead both times I took the one hour I would have passed! Is the drink different? 

Anyway, I'm hugely relieved, and glad I did it. Mainly so I have one less thing to make me "high risk" and make me feel like although I feel just fine I am in fact very unhealthy. I always was annoyed by feeling perfectly normal yet having all these "conditions" - pre-e, GD. But I guess people can have cancer and not know it...so there you go.

So I intend to continue to eat well despite the good news - still loading up on the protein, still watching my weight (I have gained 25 lbs and have nine weeks to go). But I won't lie - I may have a celebratory Krispy Kreme tomorrow. 

4D Ultrasound Pics

Today's doula meeting was cancelled because she had a birth. But I did get these neat-o 4D ultrasound pics of Baby T, and I was delighted that he very much resembles his big brother!

I don't drink the Kool Aid

So last night I filled out the reams of questionnaires for my first "new client" meeting with my doula which is on Saturday. It's kind of a "getting to know you" session with emphasis on partner stuff (a big fat n/a on that one!) and birth preferences.

Some of the questionnaires made me chuckle; some made me a little angry. In the end I understand that I am not in the majority of women who seek out a doula's services - women who lean towards all things crunchy granola, who are hoping for a natural birth, who are most likely a bit younger than me, married, and first timers. But it's for those women - vulnerable, impressionable women - that I found some of the questions and information on these sheets a little troubling and even a little irresponsible.

The one that made me chuckle was the one asking about hypnosis - if I was interested in it (nope), if I am a spiritual person (nope), if I believe you can heal yourself with the power of your mind (hell to the no - I had enough of that bullshit in my childhood, thank you very much!). I laughed because my answers made me look like such a cold bitch. Oh well - at least they'll know what approach to take with me, right? Mainly that I don't want any of that "woo woo" shit. 

The one that made me mad was the information about epidurals. At the top of the page it states that they want to support whatever birth you want...but that should you choose an epidural, you should know the following...and then launches in to this laundry list of horrors headed by:

"You WILL experience the following:"

Included on this list was difficulty bonding with baby, difficulty breastfeeding, lack of control or empowerment, inability to push, inability to feel the baby move through the birth canal, etc. 

Then it moves on to another list of horrors that "may" happen - side effects, improper placement issues, etc. And I do recognize that there are risks associated with all medical procedures. So yes, all of these things "may" happen. But as a second-timer who has had an epidural - I can say based on my experience that NONE of those "will happen" things did. To me that list is patently false and nothing but agendized scare tactics. And it makes me angry. Because I know better. 

Here's what else WILL or MAY happen if you have an epidural:

You WILL feel less pain than if you didn't have it (except in rare cases where a mistake is made)

You WILL be able to rest and relax and be in the moment because you're not being racked by excruciating pain for hours

You WILL be able to make clear decisions about your birth because, once again, you'll be more rested and present than if you hadn't had it

You WILL get to miss the fun of feeling your va-j-j tearing, always something to look forward to

You WILL be made to feel like a coward by crunchy granola types once they find out you had an epidural

Mine was a bit like this: not entirely effective; I did still feel a lot of pain - although I'll never know how much pain I would have felt had I not had it! (In the case of a horrid induced labor like mine, you kind of can't not have one - the pitocin contractions are way too painful to endure). I did feel the baby move down the birth canal (kind of cool), I did feel him come out, and I did feel empowered and in control (for the first time in...well...about nine months). I'm not going to say we bonded right away, but it didn't make me feel bad - it's just not my personality. I knew we'd get there. And whatever breastfeeding issues we had were due to his nicu stay, and were quickly and easily resolved. I doubt that would happen this time because this time I know what the hell I'm doing!

So anyway. If I were a younger, scared, impressionable first timer who is very much interested in exploring the more natural methods but was still considering an epidural, this list would terrify me and push me over the edge into requesting they not allow me to have one even if I beg for it (!), which, incidentally, is the first choice offered, with "help me get an epidural when I ask for it" being the last choice offered. I'm sorry but I consider all of this very manipulative. And it's going to leave a lot of women who "cave" and ask for an epidural feeling like weak failures. I hear this story all the time so I know it's true. 

If I were more confrontational I'd mention all this at my meeting...and I may still, in a light, humorous way. But again I do understand that they are merely catering to their usual clientele which is not someone like me. And they have their opinions and agenda. Just so long as they respect that I do not accept this agenda, we're going to get along just fine.

The Anti-Resolution Post

Let it be known I am not actually anti-New Year's resolution. I typically make them every year, and think the beginning of the year is as good a time as any to think about and plan for self-improvement, because everyone's doing it, so the spirit of all that aspirational living can carry you pretty far. 

I make them realistic and specific - things like "learn to swing dance" or "get a new car". Things I know I'll do anyway but it doesn't hurt to pronounce to the world you intend to get this thing done by Dec 31. And I really enjoy reading other people's resolutions and assessments of the previous year. But for some reason this year when I think of things I want to improve and strive for, only one word comes to mind - SURVIVAL. That's my goal for 2014. I want to survive it.

I didn't put this on my main Facebook profile because it sounds profoundly negative, and believe me when I say I don't mean it to be. I just think it's more realistic, when facing a year of juggling a newborn and a two-year-old, to drop any notion of "working out" or "focusing on myself" or "spending more time with friends" and instead think of every day when I can put two healthy children to bed and then get to bed myself as a personal triumph. 

It's already like that, and I only have one! Each night when I go through B's bedtime ritual - dinner, tidy up house, tooth brushing, diaper change, pyjamas, sing bedtime song, tuck in - and close the door on his room, I feel like a frigging rock star. This is item #5,678 of Things I Never Understood Until I Was a Parent. That the act of getting through each day is indeed triumphant. Not in an "ugh, got through another one," kind of way (although it is sometimes), but in a, "hey, we made it!" kind of way.

I would love to think that in 2014 I will continue to: keep up my appearance, eat well and get exercise, keep up my social life, read good books and watch good TV/movies, keep up the house, make the business a priority - but I give myself permission to fail at any and all of these goals if that failure facilitates my primary directive, which is merely to SURVIVE. 

And I think I can do that.

Agendas

As now the parent of a child who not only has his own will but the motor skills to enact said will, here are some examples of how my agenda and B's agenda don't always match.

My agenda: take Bumpus to my sloping front yard for the first time in the hopes that he will play nicely with the large selection of trucks and toys I brought out for him, while I sit on my butt and play with my phone.

Bumpus' agenda:

Teeter precariously at the top of the slanted cement stairs, throw handfuls of dirt and landscaping bark down said stairs, try to crawl into the poorly secured crawl space, pick up handfuls of (no doubt) toxoplasmosis-tainted stray cat shit and hand it to me, and repeatedly attempt to pull out the dirty, muddy yard hose, covering both of us with mud. Ignore toys entirely.

My agenda:

Go to playground. Run and play.

Bumpus' agenda:

Plunk down next to small girl playing in the sand, grab her toys and unintentionally fling sand in her face, to the horror of her parent/nanny. Insinuate self into groups of older boys who push him away making me come over and intervene before someone gets hurt. Run up to homeless people and flirt with them, roping me into many uncomfortable conversations.

My agenda:

Play nicely with your toys until I'm ready to get up in the morning.

Bumpus' agenda:

Go into mommy's room at six AM and pull down all the curtains/curtain rods, shove things into the diaper pail, dump all of the contents of all of the drawers on the floor, and climb all over mommy. Ignore nice box of toys entirely.

My agenda:

Bumpus wears his own shoes.

Bumpus' agenda:

Bumpus wears my shoes. Exhibit A: