Category Archives: Motherhood
This And That
My surgery is set for Friday, March 13. No, I’m not superstitious. That is also my wedding anniversary! My SIL is coming the next day, so she will help and Husband will also be home. My MIL is on stand-by, so to speak. We won’t know until after the surgery if it will be a removal or a repair. If it’s a repair, I will be on crutches four weeks, and we will need my MIL. A removal of the cartilage is more common and much easier to heal from.
Claire is not going to like this. First off, her babysitter will be with her all day on March 13 and will put her down for a nap. The only people whom Claire falls asleep for is me and Husband, so it remains to be seen if she’ll nap. She also won’t understand why I am not moving, and if I don’t rise to her imperious commands (Get up! Get up!) and play, we’ll see a lot of tantrums. It’s going to be interesting.
What else is new? Let’s see… I’m feeling some dislocation and sadness because I managed to alienate a close friend and while we are still friends, it is clear that a level of intimacy is gone. This friend has instead moved closer to another mutual friend. I am trying to let things be, and to remain open, and to remember love. There are consequences to my actions. I brought this on myself, so to speak.
Given that my free time is limited, I’ve been giving thought to paring down some of my online activities that suck time out from under me. I’m unsubscribing from certain newsletters, and I’ve deleted my account from Facebook. There are too few moments in each day, and I have the email addresses and phone numbers of people I want to keep in touch with. Simplicity is key.
I finally finished a scarf for my sister Ellen. It’s pretty, and I’ll post a photo of it later. Now I need to think of something else to knit.
Got Milk?
Since the Bottle Fairy came and went, Claire is in her fourth week of a milk strike. She refuses milk completely in a cup, gets mad if it is offered, and in fact has stopped requesting it.
For the first couple of weeks she compensated by eating a good amount of yogurt — between 12-18 ounces. However, in the past week she refuses yogurt most of the time too, and at most I can get 9 ounces in her.
While she likes broccoli (a good source of calcium), she doesn’t want it every day. However, all she needs is 500 milligrams of calcium daily, so the doctor advised us to give her one Tums a day. She likes those very much, of course, because they are fruit flavored!
It seems the transition is complete. I do wish she would accept milk in a cup, since she loved to drink it. She refuses all cheese, including cottage cheese.
She’s a determined little person!
The Plan
I am so so tired, so this will be a brief post.
I saw the surgeon today. All my questions were answered adequately. I can schedule the surgery any time, but the longer I wait (or the more it hurts) to greater the damage, and if my knee suddenly locks I’ll need immediate surgery.
It’s a three-hour procedure under general anesthesia. I’ll be on crutches for anywhere from 4-14 days, and will need to be careful with bending and stress up to six weeks after surgery. He said that it will take six months after the surgery for full recovery. I’ll need to have physical therapy once or twice a week for about six weeks.
So, we now need to figure out when to schedule this. I obviously will need help, as I can’t get up and down stairs on crutches while holding Claire, and I can’t really shepherd her well while using them either. My sister-in-law is coming soon, Husband’s mother is willing to come help, and Husband can take time off. So we’ll figure out a plan.
So Sweet
Yesterday I was that mother at our local Walgreens. You know, the one with the screaming, wriggling child. Going out with Claire now requires a kind of judgment I’m not accustomed to using. I needed two things, and it was the end of the day; we were antsy, bored, and a little tired of each other. I didn’t use the cart or stroller, and I had her hold my hand. Until yesterday, she was a model citizen when it came to holding a parent’s hand in the store. However, in the “Valentine clearance aisle” she was thrilled by all the plush toys, and I allowed her free range to pet doggies! and bears! and other nondescript fuzzy things. This was well and good until I wanted to check out. She did not want to leave and refused to take my hand.
So I thought I’d give her a minute to wander a little with me next to her, but of course a child moves quickly. She managed to step in the path of a customer who had to pirouette to miss her. I’m sure he was vexed as I have been with other kids and their parents. So my first point of judgment is: When do you allow your child a little freedom in a store? How much of a right does she have to move about, and when does this freedom impinge on other shoppers?
Alas, my tactic didn’t really work. She wasn’t interested in taking my hand at all, so I picked her up. This resulted in loud protests of Down! Down! Down! as we waited in line. I tried gently shushing her, singing to her, pointing out things. There was a customer in front of me and several behind me. The customer’s transaction was taking time, but I was next in line. They opened another register over in cosmetics, and rather than wait I did as the cashier bid and left the line with my screaming child — only to arrive at the other register to see two other customers there. So our transaction took much longer than it would have had I just stayed put.
While I was being rung up with Claire howling in my arms, a customer entered the store, exclaimed “Wow!” and shot a dirty look at me. I joshed with the cashier about treating him to a concert and apologized, and he said no need to apologize. When we were done I put Claire down and took her hand to leave. She calmed down immediately. I’m sure there will come a day when a stern word about public behavior will be required, but she is at an age where she gets lost in her emotion, and she doesn’t understand the rationale for polite behavior yet anyway.
I’m going to need to get a thicker skin and hone my sense of humor for daily life in public.
But Claire is not all about tantrums, and she does understand politeness to a degree. If you say thank you to her, she’ll often say “Welcome!” She says thanks a lot of times. And when she comes up and demands, “Read!” she will nicely say “Please” if asked to. The other day I asked her her she wanted a snack and she said, “Yes, please.”
Claire also observes Mommy being busy; and most of the time when I leave her for a moment (e.g., in her high chair while I go into the kitchen to bet more food) I say, “I’ll be right back.” The other day she spent the morning running back and forth from the living room to the kitchen; each time she left the living room she’d say, “Busy, ri’ back!”
She also does other cute things, such as pick up a plush toy (like her bear) and hug it, saying, “So sweet! So sweet!” as she walks around. When she says something that sounds like “All done-o, all done-o,” she is requesting we sing the “Old MacDonald” song. And lately she has started to say, “Twinkle twinkle” and “in the sky” as her participation in singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
Why Did I Wait?
When I was pregnant in 2007, I remember a day when I came back from a walk (or maybe a trip to the grocery store) when my left knee ached. (There were several trips to Safeway when my foot stepped in something on the floor and I slipped. The management has improved maintenance since then.) I chalked up the pain to pregnancy hormones and hoped it would go away.
It didn’t. Then I assumed it was just my “advanced” age — you know, the fact that a mid-40s body has aches and pains that a mid-20s body doesn’t. I also figured that a visit to the doctor would result in my concern being dismissed with a recommendation to just put some ice on it.
When my sister E visited in December, she urged me to look into it. I did, and I had an MRI this morning. The result: I have a complex tear of the medial meniscus. I was referred to a surgeon and have an appointment for February 23 in the afternoon to review the problem and the options.
So, it is validating to know that my pain is real. I feel chagrined that I didn’t pursue this sooner. I could have been pain free at least a year ago! I also feel a little daunted at the thought of being laid up with a toddler and having to navigate our 27 steps in the townhome. Maybe the surgery will be less invasive and intense than my imagination manufactures.
One Step Closer
At Target, I stopped by the sippy cup aisle with Claire. She said “Milk!” and pointed to some cups, so I bought them. (We’re on our sixth different brand/style of cup.) Yesterday she took one sip. Today she walked around with the cup and took several small sips. I’d say that’s progress!
She also learned tonight how to crawl up on the ottoman by herself. Whenever things change, it seems they usually cover two or three accomplishments.
Struggling and Growing
Alas, Claire is still on a milk strike. She wants and asks for it, and becomes angry and cries when offered milk in the cup. This morning I handed the cup to her and she gave it back saying, “Put away.” Then she cried. I comfort and talk to her, and usually offer yogurt, which most of the time she accepts. I really, really, really want to give her a bottle. However, now and then she’ll pick up the cup and play with it and take one sip. Husband thinks we should wait her out. The other day I was at a play date, and Claire wandered in holding the toy bottle from my her playmate’s dolly. She brought it to me and said, “Milk?” Claire has also regressed a little in that she has been crawling more.
On the other hand, she devours solids now, and I think she seems a little bigger and sturdier. In the past week — since getting the rocking horse and learning how to mount and dismount from it — she has become more agile and steady. She mastered the slide at the park; she is now able to slide down and remain sitting up without holding on to anyone’s hand. (She used to flop on her back or ask to hold hands.) She also mastered the stairs and walking down the crawling ramp at preschool.
Claire certainly has become feistier in recent weeks. She has more tantrums. One day she went to the fridge, took the photos (laminated and hanging with magnets) off and threw them down on the floor while growling. When she wants to see her show, she will whine and cry about it if I say no, but I’m trying to be consistent. Our rule is no more than three times a day (90 minutes total): once before nap, once after nap, and at Mommy’s discretion, one more time just before Daddy gets home if it seems as though Claire is going to melt down altogether. I’m fortunate the tantrums only happen at home now, but it’s only a matter of time before I’m the parent with the screaming banshee that everyone else looks at and judges (either with compassion or derision).
She likes to narrate her activities. If she’s walking, she says “Walking!” and if she runs she says “Running!” and so on. Her words and sentences continue to accumulate. She’s also putting concepts together. We make towers with her blocks. The other day, I had stacked her little cups of food on the kitchen counter as I prepared us for an outing. Claire saw this and said, “Tower food. Tower food!” Yes, I confirmed, it was indeed a tower of food. Because she loves her television show (about a lion family who runs a library), she often asks to go to the library. We wander around, but she’s too active to sit long and read books. She says, “Hi!” to all people she meets. It’s adorable. Claire also recognizes two of anything and will say, “Two [whatever the item is]” When asked to count them, she counts to two while pointing at each one. She is flummoxed by any set of items greater than two, but she will count up to 20 with me as we walk down the stairs of our home.
She is amazing! And she is officially 17 months old today.
Why Clean?
Day Two
Claire woke at 7:15 a.m. and started the day well. She didn’t ask for milk until late in the morning. She still refuses milk in a cup and gets mad when it’s offered. But she’s eating a LOT of other food, including 9 ounces of yogurt today.
While I cooked this evening, I offered milk in a “take and toss” cup — a simple plastic cup with a lid. She sat on the kitchen floor and played with it. Then she took a sip and had a whole conversation with herself, most of which was garbled — she has her own language and syntax. But we did hear her say “bottles” and “fairy” and “milk” and “cup.” Then she began playing with the cup and dripping milk on the floor. I stopped that after a few minutes, but the fact she took a sip and was talking to herself about it is heartening.
Oh, and she skipped nap today. We put her down but she wouldn’t sleep. So we went out to look at houses and go to a park, where she enjoyed herself thoroughly. I also had a long conversation with another mother I met there with whom I felt a connection. We traded email addresses, so perhaps something will grow out of it.
We Survived
We survived the first day. Claire is on a milk strike. She won’t accept milk (plain, chocolate, or strawberry) offered in any container that is a sippy cup, tumbler, or with a straw. The times she requests milk disintegrate into tantrums and crying, with her pointing at the fridge crying, “Milk! Milk!” and swatting away what is offered in the cup. Claire has developed a habit of saying “I saw-wy” when she gets hurt; it’s her way of communicating that she is hurt. At one point she ran to me crying and saying, “I saw-wy! I saw-wy!” and it was very hard for me to stay stoic. Much of the day she wanted to be in my arms. I expected this. It’s very upsetting to lose a beloved ritual and object. I provided all the cuddling she needed, and Husband and I talked to her about how the Bottle Fairy came and did this because she’s a big girl and can do it herself.
However, the day wasn’t really that bad. When she didn’t get milk the way she wanted, she asked for other food. She also requested yogurt. By the end of the day she had eaten 16 ounces of yogurt, along with many servings of fruit, cinnamon toast, vegetables, chicken, bologna, and a hot dog. She also compensated for the absence of milk by drinking a lot of water, so there’s no risk of dehydration. (And what goes in must come out. She produced six very toxic diapers! Oy!)
We went to three open houses in an area of San Jose that I wasn’t certain I’d like, but one of the houses I did like well enough. We’re still debating our options. After that trip we took Claire to a park we like a lot — it’s always very busy with families playing — and then treated ourselves to a bad-for-us dinner at Popeye’s.
Claire loves her rocking horse. She spent the day riding it and by the end had learned how to mount and dismount by herself. Husband also brought home a discarded keyboard for her to play with, and she’s very happy to “press the buttons” when she’s not rocking.
The Bottle Fairy Cometh
The Bottle Fairy comes tonight. When asked what the Bottle Fairy does, Claire answers, “Bye-bye bottles,” but of course she has no true understanding about what this really means. The Bottle Fairy will bring a present — a rocking horse, since Claire loves to rock and finds it soothing — and take away the bottles, because Claire is a big girl now and can drink milk out of sippy cups (she drinks water from sippy cups just fine).
The challenge has been that she doesn’t want to let go, and I haven’t either. We have a ritual. Over the first year of her life she gradually began refusing to take milk from anyone else but me, unless it was a middle-of-the-night feed, and then Daddy would suffice. She will not drink a bottle of milk on her own. I’ve never left her with a bottle in bed or while she plays. We sit in the same place in the same position, and I sing to her. Milk time has been a quiet cuddling time. I have not wanted to give this up. And yet in the past month I’ve begun to feel restless during our feedings and have found myself wishing she’d take the bottle on her own.
The problem this milk routine has generated is that whenever I’m gone and she wants milk, the person left to care for her (Husband, babysitter) ends up with a lot of grief. Also, the pediatrician has been prodding me to get her off the bottle for reasons I don’t think are compelling — risk of cavities, earaches, and poor jaw development; I don’t leave her with a bottle in her mouth and we brush her teeth twice daily, her ears are just fine as of a doctor visit a week ago, and she doesn’t suck a bottle often enough to cause jaw misalignment. Yet between her and Husband (who agrees with the pediatrician and is tired of the struggle), I feel pressure.
However, I did have a realization about our routine that gave me pause and has provided the impetus to change. The question arose: what is behind my resistance?
I haven’t wanted to let go, because I am clinging to my child and the memory of her infancy, yet infancy is long past. Previous attempts to get her to drink milk in a sippy have generated a lot of crying and tantrums, which I don’t like. I want this to be easy. I was hoping this would just disappear. But parenting is not about doing what suits my wishes or brings me comfort and convenience. Life brings transitions, losses, griefs, and my role is to be with Claire as she experiences them. I can’t protect her (or myself) from them. When I make decisions about her care based on my own comfort and desires, I might be doing a disservice to her. I’m putting my ego needs ahead of her well-being and growth.
Claire will be sad and mad about the change. I’m sure the new toy won’t really compensate. And I’ll just need to suck it up and be there to hold her (emotionally and physically) while she copes with the transition. We have lots of cuddle time; we read books, I hold her and sing, we dance together, we sit on the sofa and watch Between the Lions with Claire tucked under my arm. It’s time to cross this threshold. We’ve talked for several weeks to Claire about the fairy’s impending visit and what will happen. Tonight we will have a little ritual to say good-bye to the bottles before she goes to bed. Then we’ll see how tomorrow goes.
Please wish us well. Particularly, please think positive thoughts for me to maintain my resolve and be brave in the face of her unhappiness. Sometimes I find it hard to do the right thing — I want my child to be happy, and I’m tempted to give in to anything, anything at all, as long as she stops crying, and this is not always the right thing to do.
A friend of mine will keep the bottles at her home to help remove temptation. Our agreement is that if I call and tell her to give them to me, she is to refuse, and only if Husband also calls and makes the request is she to give them back. It’s like the nuclear weapon procedure; there must be two people to turn the key. 😉
Space Filler
Not much to say. Stuff going on that I don’t want to share here. To bridge the gap and the silence, here’s a photo from preschool.
Words Words Words
Here are some things you would hear from Claire if you visited:
I did it!
Oops, I drop it.
I cooking.
I tooted. (passed gas; this is always followed by a giggle)
Mommy busy.
Daddy home!
I helping Mommy!
Mommy potty.
Kiss-es
Huuuuuug
I wuv oo.
Word! (meaning spell a word with my letter blocks)
Ah-coo-me. (“Excuse me”, which she says after she burps or coughs)
Anks. (“Thanks,” said without prompting sometimes)
Pwease. (“Please,” said with prompting)
Up! (always, always wants to be up to see what’s going on)
When you ask, “What’s your name?” She says “Claire!” (She can almost get the cl phoneme correct.) And to “How old are you?” she responds, “One!”
Claire is the kissing-est child I’ve ever known. She also pats things to show affection. I have seen her kiss and pat pictures of trucks in her books, as well as pictures of many animals (including spiders), her Little People toys, blocks, puzzle pieces, and of course her menagerie of stuffed animals. Yesterday she made me laugh when she kissed and patted a cracker she was eating. What a little character — or rather, a big character in a little body!
Motherly Advice
In one of our conversations before Claire was born, my mother told me there would come a day (many days actually) where I would need to forgive myself, because I am human and bound to do or say something mean to my child.
Yesterday was such a day.
It’s been a difficult week since she got sick. And my knee hurts worse now. It not only hurts to walk, it hurts to bear weight on it. In fact, it pulses with pain and radiates down my leg even as I sit here typing, and I’ve already taken 800 mg of ibuprofen at 12:30 p.m. for it (and at 6:30 a.m. too). And because I’m unconsciously trying to lighten the pain by shifting my body weight when I stand and walk, other parts of my hurt: my left heel (remnants of plantar fasciitis) and the big toe joint on my right foot (possibly the warning of an eventual bunion). Some of this is just due to getting older. Bleh.
I’ve got an appointment to see my primary doctor next week (Thursday morning) to discuss this and request a referral to one of the doctors I’ve researched. I want to see a specialist who is board certified and experienced.
It’s weird. The pain and debility comes and goes. The pain gets worse when I walk any real distance for a length of time. This makes a fitness plan impossible. It’s affected my mood.
Anyhow, Claire and I survived yesterday. I didn’t do anything horrible or that I find difficult to forgive in myself. I raised my voice at her for the first time to a decibel I rarely hit (and hurt my throat in the process). Then we both collapsed on the sofa, Claire lying on my belly, and fell asleep. A trip to the doctor in the afternoon showed no earache, no strep, no hand foot mouth disease, but she has a very red throat which will likely go away in about a week.
She’s likely to wake any moment, and I want a sip of my freshly brewed coffee…