The job of mommying

Mother's Day with my
three bosses/sweeties. I call it, Study in
Pink.

When you work at a "real" job, you hear things like this all day:
"What a great idea!"
"Can I get your opinion on something?"
"What do you think about this plan?"
"You sound miserable, why don't you take a sick day?"
"Anything I can do to help?"
"We really appreciate your expertise."

When you "don't work," you hear this:
"You're the worst mommy ever in the whole world."
"Can we do a craft?"
"This is the worst day ever," (after meaningful activities and the children's museum, followed by a delicious lunch and stories)
"I don't want to."
"No, that wouldn't work."
"I haven't gotten to play all day long!"
"Gross." (in reference to dinner)
"Can you please sew me a barn?"

Elise "mowing" the grass
she planted at preschool.

And, my personal least favorite, complete silence when what you were really hoping for was for a couple little people to jump into action, or at least answer your question. Or acknowledge your presence, even. Anything. Is this thing on? Hello? Hello???

 Or, maybe worse, when they answer every question with the word, "tooty," which isn't quite a bad word but sure sounds close to several, so you can only respond with a frowning laugh because you don't want to condone something you shouldn't, but you also don't want to be a complete-stick-in-the-mud for something that really could turn out to be no big deal. Plus, you're pretty sure that if you respond at all, it'll only make it a bigger deal than it is. Which is what will also happen if you completely ignore it. There's kind of no right answer here. But it's not actually a bad word, right?

At any rate, there are times when it seems that despite Mommy's best efforts, she and her endless loads of laundry and dishes really only get in the way of the amazing things that could be happening at our house. Or, the other variation, when Mommy's hidden agenda of civilizing her children get in the way of perfectly good playtime. Just ask my children.

Take Naomi, for instance: a child who will most definitely be good at puzzles someday, and probably would be now if it weren't for the fact that she's still working on her pincer grasp. She actually demonstrated her comprehension of the concept the other day by putting a circular object back into the circular hole it'd come out of. Or trying to, anyway. Darn underdeveloped pincer grasp.

The baby would be fully on track for a Nobel Prize in Chemistry (or something), except for the fact that Mommy simply cannot hold her up by her torso and walk her around the whole day, as Baby clearly needs (wants? It depends on her decibel level) in order to develop at the rate she'd prefer (light speed). But since I am unable to support Naomi, literally, as my back and wrists are shot, I'm completely failing my youngest, who no doubt will  have to consent to progress at age-grade level throughout most of her schooling career. I'm really holding her back, and pretty soon it'll show.

In fact, we have the following disagreement daily, if not hourly. Minutely?:
Me: Isn't the third child supposed to be mellow?
Naomi: I am supposed to explore! Learn! Discover! On my feet! Now!

Nature studies with Daddy.

Let's just say we actually did run the house completely on Naomi's terms (as opposed to about 75%, which is what we do now). Here's how a day would go:
5:30 a.m. Awake! Nature study on a long stroller walk around the neighborhood with Daddy.
7:00. First breakfast.
7:20. Inter-relational studies with the big sisters.
7:30. Object lessons, to be conducted from a standing or walking position.
8:00. Second breakfast. But only for about five minutes before I scream and shriek and want OUT of the chair. NOW!
8:15. I'm tired and nothing will make me happy except exploring sound theories by banging or tapping one or more objects together, from a standing or walking position. Never mind the breakfast dishes (or Mommy's soggy, ignored bowl of cereal).
8:45/9:00-ish. Fine, I'll sleep.
10:15. Morning snack.
10:30 until 12:00. Intensive texture observations, to be conducted from a standing or walking position.
12:00. First lunch. Same routine as second breakfast.
12:10-1:15. I'm tired and annoyed at seeing the same four walls, day after day. Gross motor skill studies, from a standing or walking position.
1:15: Second lunch.
1:25 to 2:00: Gravity experiments, to be conducted from a standing or walking position.

The injustice! Mommy won't let me
learn! Sometimes you just have to
laugh and snap the picture, because
you can't change it. The feet were
kicking, too, presumably to add
drama.

And so on. Now, replace anything unreasonable in the baby's directives with "crying pitifully because Mommy won't let me learn and makes me lie here on the floor surrounded by a wide variety of colorful rattles like a baby," and you have our actual routine. Lately, the big girls have been noticing that Mommy's grumpy a lot.

When we're all at our best, it's rather adorable to see Naomi charging around the house supported by a parent--and it happens many times a day. She talks as she walks, delighted, never mind the fact that a mere five seconds ago she was howling at the indignity of being placed on the floor on her tummy and surrounded by baby toys. The injustice! Placed upright and allowed to wander, however, Naomi is all sunshine, cooing and hooting at her new freedom and vantage point, no doubt already composing research papers in her mind on Surface Texture Comparisons or Noises Trash Cans Make When You Thump Them. Just look at all the learning she can do! What do shoes taste like? What would happen if I pulled over the trash can? Why is this slippery? What do these buttons do? Can I put my sister's favorite teddy bear in my mouth?

See, she knows how to be happy!

Surface Texture Comparisons, by Naomi
The House is composed of three main surface types, with several surface texture subsets. The major types are, listed in order of quantity: soft; brown; and cool stone. The "soft" surface texture type varies in color from beige to dull blue with shades of brown accent colors. The beige surface texture is the softest and thickest, but the singular beige color is easily forgettable. Dull blue with shades of brown accents is the most interesting aesthetically, and in the middle for softness, being not as thick as the beige, but still pleasant to the touch. Another "soft" texture is ridged, unlike the other two, and rather hard, although it is nicely striped in shades of cream, beige, blue and black. Rather interesting toys/objects can be found near this surface, although it is often out of sight of the Mommy figure, so it is undesirable unless she is immediately present. Brown texture types have two subsets: smooth and super-smooth. These are both hard and uninteresting, but can occasionally be good for sliding on feet or tummy, if one is in the mood. Cool stone has rarely been examined. It should be noted that a wide variety of surface texture types can be found outside the House, and will be investigated further at another time.

Ironically, the only thing the baby doesn't want to learn is how to crawl. Crawling is, apparently, for babies.

Yes, clearly I've been doing a terrible job with my littlest, who is destined to fall short of her true potential due to Mommy exhaustion. Now, let's talk about how Kalina can read because Mommy forced her to. Totally unrelated.

I love knee socks! Isn't she
tall?? Even without the stool?

Kalina can read! Really read! Big-girl books! ("Emergent Reader" big-girl books, anyway.) While her personal favorite is one that she's had memorized for almost a year, she is able to legitimately sound out several of Naomi's and a few easy readers we've brought home from the library. (Side note: if you're trying to convince a 5-year-old to learn to read, just bring home a baby and get out the old baby books. I won't say it's easier than the traditional method, but it works!) She's cleverly begun to notice that reading is everywhere! Cereal boxes! Signs! Preschool! You name it!

Elise, by the way, would want you to know that she can "read," too. She would also love for you to nod and smile as she triumphantly makes her way through "That's Not My Dolly" and a few others she has under her belt, or thinks she does, anyway. Yay, Elise! (She can legitimately sight-read her own name, too.)

I maintain that Kalina could've been reading much earlier, except she just didn't want to. Why? Aside from the inherent challenge ("But I don't really like challenges, Mommy"), it could be that she's afraid I won't read to her anymore, which I've assured her is not the case.

This hasn't stopped me from pushing reading. Or, more accurately, nudging it. Or sometimes cramming it down her throat, poor girl. My theory is this: if you live in a nice house with plenty of food, clothing, toys and medicine, with two loving parents and loving extended family, high-quality friends, a yard to play in and, in short, absolutely everything a child could need to feel safe, secure, confident and happy, you can work on reading, even if you don't particularly want to. We all have to have some hardship in our lives, right?

Kalina's preschool "musical!" So
sweet. She's in the back row and even
wore a dress to "fancy up!"

We've used flashcards, easy readers, alphabet magnets, puzzles, white boards, Bingo, computers, books and virtually every other resource I could (reasonably) think of to gain understanding of the English language. We've worked for years, although taking months off at a time to allow for more natural development And with the exception of sight word Bingo, Kalina has resisted it almost every step of the way. Despite all of my hard work (or perhaps because of it?) Kalina's preschool teachers have at times been more likely to see the fruit of her labor than I have, until now.

But eventually she learned the alphabet, then the sounds and then the fact that you can put the sounds together to make words. She learned cat, hat, mat and all the rest. Bingo taught us the, this, were, its and lots of other helpful words. Tiny flashcards (what 5-year-old doesn't like tiny things?) taught us blends. An alphabet on the wall reinforced sight words and sounds. Preschool teachers helped out with writing along the way, as nothing I could do would make the girl form even her own name for the longest time, and then anything but her name. And after 2+ years of off-and-on work, Kalina was taught to read (and write, too, although I can't take any credit for that)! And the whole experience taught me that I probably need to lighten up a bit.

If only Naomi would let me.

Nevertheless, I couldn't be prouder of my oldest, as she painstakingly makes her way through easy readers--still gently prodded, and rarely completely voluntary, although now that the hardest work is done (as I've assured her), she's a bit more open to the idea and sometimes even reads of her own accord. I know she's proud of herself, too. Likely for putting up with her mommy's "nudging" as well as for her accomplishments.

I also couldn't be prouder of my youngest, for demanding more out of life than a series of primitive baby toys. They are rather mindless, aren't they? The big sisters always got bored with them, too, and one of them is reading at five. And, um, another at three...right.

A chilly preschool field trip to get
ice cream!

And I couldn't be prouder of my middle for dozens of different things--as it seems you've read about lately in a couple different blogs.

In short, I do believe and expect the best of my kids. Which is why I expected my five-year-old to at least be working on reading,  and my nearly nine-month-old to at least be working on waiting patiently, horizontally, on the rug for five minutes while I saute onions on the stove. I truly believe both can rise to the challenge, although my nine-month-old would have me believe that tummy time nowadays is akin to making the five-year-old read Dickens.

Regardless, I don't think I'm doing a bad job. No matter what my three bosses sometimes tell me.
___________________________
Pediatrician Visit!

Naomi turns nine months in a few days! And so it was time to see the doctor. The baby weighs 15 lbs. exactly, and is 27 inches long, putting her in about the 6 1/2 percentile for weight and the 29th for height. Although cheerful on the way in, she was not happy about being laid down on the table, either because she associated it with a diaper change (which are all mini-nightmares nowadays, with crying from both of us because one wants to roll and the other wants to fasten the diaper on. Ironic, isn't it? that the only time the baby wants to be on her tummy is when it really makes things difficult?) or her shots from her last visit.

The baby is doing great, and even has a series of teeth coming in. She has three, and there might be as many more working their way out through her gums. Which the doctor confirmed could be the reason she went from "only" waking up twice at night to now waking up 3+ times, and she was kind enough to advise Advil. I also wonder if maybe Naomi's just working on her next paper entitled Gravity: True Every Time? in her head. You know how that is, right? When you just can't stop thinking about something so it keeps you up at night. Except usually with me, it's my grocery list or summer planning or a missing toy that's really bugging me. Poor Naomi, though, I can totally relate.

She received only one shot, and it wasn't too bad--the baby was possibly more cheerful after her appointment than before. She even consented to practice crawling a bit, but possibly only because I had the TV on in the background, which probably dumbed her down to a more age-appropriate level. Poor Naomi. I'm totally wrecking her chances with a prestigious career in science. Bad Mommy. But Dinosaur Train is science, right??

Yesterday

She smiles! For the camera, even!

I once read a Dear Abbey letter written by a single person, wondering why her stay-at-home mom friend never seemed to have time to chat. After all, how hard can it be?Abbey's response was lovely: in a nutshell, it's because it takes the mom 45 minutes to do what it would take someone else 15--if it's even possible--and that if, by remote chance, the mom encounters a moment of silence, she might really want/need to keep it silent. For her own sanity. In the spirit of that post, here's the rundown of a typical day in our household with a new baby (as opposed to when there's not a new baby, in which case there are more grocery outings and field trips).

When do I start? How about at the beginning:

They really are little angels. Most of
the time, anyway. 

12:30 a.m.: Naomi starts fussing. I feed her and change her diaper in the dark with one eye closed in hopes I'll be able to get back to sleep that much faster. Fortunately, I do not also need to change her sleeper this time. Other times, I might not be so lucky.

2:30 a.m.: Naomi. Same routine, except Naomi is a little tireder this time, and falls back to sleep faster.

3:30 a.m.: Again., but with no diaper change.

5:00 a.m.: And again, but with a diaper change because last night I didn't and the baby and I both paid for it.

Aunt Jo gets to hold Naomi!
And Naomi gets to be held
by Aunt Jo!

6:00 a.m.: And again. No diaper. Naomi is tireder and falls asleep faster each time. I am more awake and fall asleep more slowly each time.

7:01 a.m.: Matt and I only rarely set an alarm nowadays, as Matt's current rotation at work is pretty flexible. So it's usually at this time that we're greeted by a little girl in a footie sleeper and with an armful of stuffed animals. Sometimes bouncing around, sometimes crawling into bed with us and staying put for a bit. Either way, it's time for us to get up and start the day.

7:20: Both big girls are usually up playing by now. The baby is still asleep, tired out from waking up all night. I gently mention to the big girls that breakfast is at 8:00, and they need to get their routines started (potty, getting dressed, putting PJs away and, for the bigger one, making her bed and brushing her hair. That's it.) in order to have time to eat. If it's a preschool day, I remind them that we don't want to be late. I walk off to get myself ready, and they stay put.

Uncle Jim, too! Naomi is a very
passable baby.

7:30: One big girl is half undressed, the other is playing. They might be fighting. Either way, virtually no progress has been made. I tell them, "Time to get ready!" and give them each a step to work on.

7:35: No one has moved. I speak up again. No one moves. I begin to doubt my own existence.

7:40: I'm still trying to rally the troops, and the baby wakes up. So now, I'm getting myself ready, changing and smiling at the baby (after all, these are the best smiles of the day!) and supervising the big girls.

7:50: After some more prodding, each girl has about half of her responsibilities done, but one is carefully making a bead design using tiny beads while the other is scattering tiny beads across the room. I tell them it's almost time for breakfast and that I'm going downstairs because the baby and I are both hungry. The big girls have now had half an hour to complete six minutes worth of responsibilities.

Pajama party to watch the Charlie
Brown Christmas special! But then
we couldn't find it, so we watched
Berenstein Bears instead. My kids
are so TV deprived that they care
not what they watch, as long as
they are watching, and they didn't
trust me that the Christmas special
wasn't scary, anyway.

7:52: I have finally managed to calm down hysterical preschoolers, terrified of being left upstairs alone. They are now ever so slightly more motivated, and in the next five minutes I'm able to push , pull and drag them through the remaining steps. I try to keep the mood light--after all, we have a whole day ahead of us. (If it's not a preschool day, I loosen up on the timing a bit--but not too much or I'll pay for it the next preschool day.)

8:02: I see that the kitchen is dirty. It was (mostly) clean last night. But now it is dirty again. The girls have finally made it downstairs, and are playing. I remind them if that if they'd like breakfast, now is the time. There won't be another time. They must eat now. They start gathering bowls and spoons. Both are able to pour milk using Milk Pitcher, one of the household's favorite possessions--so they can actually pretty much fix their entire breakfast themselves.

8:20: Everyone has eaten at least something. If it's a preschool day, I start the process of hurrying them up to brush their teeth, and out the door (a huge undertaking in itself). I try to intersperse my directives with pleasant conversation so that I'm not 100% grump. I would tear my hair out, but it's all falling out already because I just had a baby. Naomi, by the way, is playing happily on her playmat, all but ignored as I finish the early morning's tasks.

Approximately 13 new babies have
been born in our church. Naomi
and the only other girl have decided
they'd better stick together.

8:30: Today is not a preschool day, so now the kids are leisurely having another bowl of cereal, walking back and forth to the kitchen even though I remind them they have to stay at the table to eat, while I work on cleaning up the counter and play with Naomi. I start to relax.

8:40: We're done with breakfast! And dressed! Our teeth might even be brushed! I delightedly tell the girls that they can now play while I do my "Mommy work." Finally, I don't have to nag anyone anymore!

8:43: The girls have stopped playing and are bored. Apparently, all the playing for the day has already happened. They: come this close to hurting each other, jump on the couch and/or follow me around, asking for crafts and stories and, generally, to be entertained. I would feel bad for them and cave, except I just spent the last hour and a half trying to get them to stop playing. I convince myself that I'm not going crazy, and am not a bad mommy, and tell them that we will read and play together when my work is done. Work before play. A life lesson we relearn every hour.

Naomi loves her play gym more than
both of the others combined. Now I
know what they are for. I almost did
not bother to get it out. Bat, bat, bat.
Swing, swing, swing. Whee!

8:50: Kalina and Elise follow me upstairs while I put Naomi down for a nap. They want to see her diaper and climb in her crib. Because they are just bored to death. Then, Kalina goes into her room to play with her beads, and Elise follows either her or me. She mentions that she's "tired." I try to sympathize, but not over-sympathize, lest that pave the way for more complaints.

9:00: I'm straightening the downstairs, planning the laundry and remembering odd things that need to get done while Elise sits on the couch with her blankie. She's tired. And bored. Kalina wanders down and sits on Elise's blankie. Elise screams. But then the next minute I've managed to get them to be friends again, and they play nicely for a while. I empty the top rack of the dishwasher, put something in the mail, run laundry downstairs and wipe out the sink, spattering the conversation with common phrases like, "No throwing stuffed animals into the fan!" and, "Your sister probably doesn't want ice cream on her head." Soon, someone accidentally gets a tiny bit hurt. Again, I try to sympathize without over-sympathizing. It comes out a bit fake.

9:25: The situation has deteriorated again, so we bake! Muffins, cookies, biscuits for dinner--you name it. We love baking. If we just really don't need any baked goods, chances are we'll clean up the floor and vacuum, since no one else has any better ideas. They don't like the cleaning, but they do love hitting the vacuum while it's running. I don't love it quite so much.

10:00: It seems that we just finished breakfast, but it is snacktime, which really only Elise needs. They ask for candy, I give them a banana and a muffin we just baked. I empty half of the bottom half of the dishwasher while running back and forth refilling water glasses.

10:10: The baby is awake! We all troop upstairs and give her a bath. The big girls help by carrying her clean clothes and diaper into the bathroom, and then by staying out of the way. I impress upon the big girls how important it is to stay put while I'm bathing the slippery baby, lest they be banished from the small bathroom and, apparently, the only interesting that is happening right now.

10:30: I feed the baby. The girls are bored (again) so we read a few stories, and then I offer to play with any or all of the following: blocks, Little People, puzzles, games, ponies, Duplo, any other toy laying around.. But the girls only want to do impossible things, like sew a table for their stuffed animals, or watch TV the rest of the morning. I decide to just play with Naomi, who has just started to bat at toys and can do so seemingly endlessly.  Elise joins me on the baby playmat and after setting the playmat up with new toys for Naomi, Kalina flips through library books. I escape to switch out the laundry and work, again, on the breakfast and muffin dishes. Everybody's happy! Magical.

11:00: I have decided that the fridge needs cleaning, even though the dishwasher is not yet empty and there's wet laundry sitting in the washing machine. Naomi is gnawing on her front carrier while I check the freshness of certain Tupperware containers. The girls are bored. As usual, I have a dozen incredible suggestions, but they are all rejected. I pull out one of my favorite strategies-of-desperation: I assign them a small task to do, like cleaning all the toys out of the living room (there are about five). All of a sudden, Elise is pretending to be a baby bunny, Kalina is pretending to be the bunny's owner, and they're playing happily! They are so cute! I can finally finish cleaning up the kitchen, right before it's time to make lunch! I'm ever so slightly annoyed when the girls actually finish their task (no nagging required, for some reason) and wait for me to come up with something else amazingly fun to do.

12:00: I'm not really sure how the rest of the morning was spent, between baby caretaking, the occasional chore, and some playtime. But here it is, lunchtime. We all chat and eat together, then since they take insanely long to eat, I start cleaning up the kitchen (notice a theme?) while reminding them to stay on their chairs. I am like a magnetic force, and they are the little magnets, though, so it's really hard for Elise, especially, to be in a different room from me. Even though we can talk and see each other. She bounces back and forth until she's finally "done."

12:30: I remember that piano practice with Kalina usually goes better earlier in the day. She only grumbles a tiny bit as she makes her way to the bench. I try to keep Elise from pounding the keys while Kalina is practicing. I'm usually holding the baby at the same time, so this can take some acrobatics. After this, I'm usually good for a few stories, or pretend vet clinic, or whatnot, if they ask me. Or cleaning up the kitchen if they manage on their own.

1:15: Elise doesn't often nap anymore, but we do all have "quiet time." I try to have all three girls do quiet time at the same time, but that doesn't always work out. Either way, I usually have to interrupt happy playtime to start our quiet time--although I do try to wait for a natural break/fight, since happy playtime is so rare some days. Oh well. After 15 minutes of more prodding, I'm reading a story to Elise while Kalina looks on (and sometimes Naomi). Then I play a bit with Kalina in her room before her quiet time.

1:40: My quiet time! I answer the phone for only Matt. I switch out the laundry, throw anything left out from lunch into the fridge, and attempt to sit down. I answer emails, blog, work on freelance work, look up anything that needs to be looked up (like new craft ideas), make important phone calls, space out a bit, etc. But mostly, I sit down--because I might not be able to again for a good seven hours. It's quiet.

2:00: Elise has wandered into Kalina's room, they have hurt each other (real or pretend), and I'm upstairs dealing with it. No, they're not allowed in each other's rooms during quiet time, so I'm not very sympathetic. For the record, I don't actually care whether they're in each other's rooms for downtime as long as I don't hear about it, and can sit down. Usually they actually play really nicely up there--probably only because they think they're not allowed.

2:15: Naomi wakes up. My quiet time is over, but it's still fun to spend time with just my cute baby! I go back and forth, cleaning up the lunch dishes and laughing with the only kid I don't have to nag on a daily basis (yet).

2:40: The big girls come downstairs, downtime over. They want crafts and stories. Mommy has other ideas, though: the sun is shining and it's supposed to rain for the next five days, so we're going outside. I prod the girls into their shoes (coats are optional: it is a problem that will work itself out very quickly) and we all try to have fun in our yard for at least 20 minutes or more. Sometimes this is really hard for some reason. Maybe I'm just not a fun person? Maybe I'd be more fun if anybody ever liked my suggestions or cooperated.

3:30: We have come in for snacktime. The girls want cookies. I give them Goldfish, walnuts and apple slices. I actually finish cleaning up the kitchen. For the second time today!

4:00: When the baby goes down for a nap in the afternoon, I really do pull out a craft or other activity and do my best to sit down and enjoy it with them, whether my Mommy Work is done or not (is it ever really done?). If it involves painting, however, the situation, which has started nicely enough, and for which I have very high hopes, quickly deteriorates into, "Don't squeeze all the paint out!!!" and, "Elise, paint belongs on the paper, not your face!" Which is probably why she continues to paint her face/hands next time. I do love seeing what Kalina comes up with, though, and I can't help but laugh with Elise at all the things she finds to laugh at, including her own mistakes. Wise child.

4:30: I send Kalina upstairs to put away her laundry while I clean up the craft project and Elise gives her ponies a "pony bath" in the bathroom sink. Sometimes around this time the neighbor girls convince Kalina to play outside, sometimes a couple of them end up at our house and I find myself watching a couple extra kids (albeit older ones) and trying to keep them quiet while the baby sleeps. I never know what, exactly, my afternoon will be like. Either way, I'm likely to turn on some music.

4:45: If there are no neighbor girls, Kalina is likely to be found hoisting a miniature sea turtle into her pretend castle using a strand of beads, having put away about two pairs of socks. She wants help: I mention that I already helped her by washing and sorting it. On a good day, it takes her no longer than 15 minutes--on a bad, she can stretch it out for an hour. I'm hoping that one day she'll learn the obvious lesson in this. I ask Elise to straighten up her room (mostly so that poor Kalina isn't the only kid working). Elise happily finishes the job in five minutes. So I know the problem isn't me...

5:30: The baby's back awake by now, so I'm likely to be feeding her and thinking about dinner. We still have some frozen meals, so I rarely cook on weekdays (we also eat leftovers from the weekend, when I do cook). But it takes a good 20 minutes to heat up a meal for four, plus prepare sides and drinks. Kalina colors amazing abstract pictures while Elise tries to sneak tastes of dinner and makes jokes.

5:55: Daddy is home! I always wonder what he thinks of us when he walks in the door. Sometimes, two pint-sized cuties are rocketing toward him, sometimes they're jumping around in the other room, oblivious to his entrance, and sometimes they're playing very quietly upstairs and the house is silent. He tries to tell me about his day, while the big girls try to climb him and tell him about theirs, while I try to listen to him and respond in meaningful ways, keep the baby happy and answer the big girls' questions and make dinner. It's the most intense five minutes of the day, and sometimes it puts me over the edge. Everything calms down when I can convince Matt to save the details for later when I'll be able to pay attention a bit better, and he and one or more of the children troop upstairs so he can get changed.

6:15: Dinner. Also, commonly, a baby naptime, so I wolf my food and put a cranky baby to bed while Daddy, thankfully always in a good mood (having gotten to sit down during the day), chats with the big girls.

6:45: I'm working on dinner dishes and general cleanup--and even breathing once or twice. Matt takes the girls up for bathtime, or if it's not a bath night, plays with them a bit. I follow shortly to do the hair-washing. We all have something we hate in regards to kid-care, and this is his. I totally get that, and I don't mind. It does take some more nagging, but my skin is pretty thick by this time in the day.

7:20: I run around taking care of the baby and helping finish up the big girls for bedtime. This is quite a process sometimes; other days it goes quickly.

7:40: Matt takes one child and I take two, and we start bedtime stories. With any luck, the big girls' lights will be out before 8:00--or by 7:30 for Elise if she hasn't napped.

8:15: I'm feeding the baby and trying to wind her down. Elise asks for water. Kalina kicks the wall.

8:35: I start the process of settling the baby to sleep. In a dark room. Exhausted. I try not to fall asleep myself, and think about how I'm going to spend all my free time before bed.

8:50: The baby seems to be asleep! I go downstairs, finish a few tasks, and sink into the recliner, chocolate in hand.

8:55: The baby is crying. Up to settle her.

9:00: Matt comes in to finish telling me about his highly intellectual day. I try, again, to pay attention.

9:15: I sit down and relax! Possibly watch TV. Possibly just stare off into space, or the netherland that is the Internet.

9:35: I decide I better go to bed.

9:55: Matt goes to sleep with earplugs and a sleep mask, lest he wake up (which is fine--at least then one of us isn't so sleep-deprived their vision is blurred. Still, some days I wish I could be the one with earplugs and a sleep mask.). I lay down to read a bit. The baby wakes up. I go in to settle her.

10:15: Sleep!

11:15: Baby

And then I do it all again tomorrow! And the next day, and the next, and the next...until they're in college, it seems. And then I will miss it.

[Note: The past three nights, the baby has only needed settling about four times! I don't, however, count on it lasting, and this post reflects what has been normal for the past couple weeks.]

Now, let's pretend I get fed up with all the alleged boredom sometime during the day, and take the girls to the park. It goes something like this:

Me: Who wants to go to the park?
Elise: Me!
Kalina: Not me.
Me: Well, we're going--Kalina, we'll do a craft or something later. Let's get shoes on for the park!
No movement.
Me: Kiddos, grab your two things (they get to take two toys along for the ride), and shoes and coat.
The kids wander in opposite directions and get distracted.
Me: Looks like you'll be sitting in the van with no shoes on at the park! Too bad! (I'm not, actually, kidding. I have no problem getting out with Naomi at the park and leaving two shoeless big kids in the van.)
The kids know I'm not bluffing, and start moving. Fifteen minutes later, we're at the 1-minute-away neighborhood park. We drove in case of inclement weather, plus the fact that Naomi needs frequent naps.
Me: Yay, the park! Have fun you guys!
Kids: We'll just sit here with you.
Me: Um, no. You can sit at home. Go! Run! Play! Why don't you ____ (insert any of a dozen fantastic ideas I would've/did love as a kid)?
Kids: No.
Kalina: I'm ready to go home.
Finally, Elise wanders off to look for pillbugs, and Kalina eventually consents to help. They completely ignore the equipment, preferring, instead, to climb all over the furniture at home.
Two minutes later, Kalina gets hurt and decides to just sit. To try to salvage the situation, I hop up and help her hobble around, looking for pillbug food or whatever. In this way, we eek out something that could be considered "fun." Interspersed with lots of sitting and general boredom, and lots of amazing rejected suggestions by yours truly.
A while later, Me: It's almost time to leave, but we'll play a little bit longer. Simon says...go down a slide!
I wish I'd tried Simon Says earlier, because within five minutes the girls are happily playing together, and look like they could do so for quite some time. But the baby is already past due for her nap, and the big girls had plenty of time to have fun if they'd chosen to.
Me: Time to head home!
Kids: Nooo!

Mommyhood: trying to get little people to do what they don't want to do. A million times a day. But I really will miss it.

1...2...3!

Starting to smile a couple
weeks ago!

There were a lot of things I fully anticipated when expecting my third child. I knew that Elise might feel more displaced than Kalina (and to adjust my parenting style accordingly), that I would be likely to allow snacking in front of the television out of desperation, and that there would be no naps whatsoever for me.

And there were things I didn't know: that many times when I left the room for a second Kalina would quietly assume the role of baby-watcher, that Elise makes up lovely lullabies and that Naomi would not be able to function without being swaddled until she was a month old.

But one of the very most surprising things about having a third child is this:

It's not that hard.

Some of Naomi's biggest smiles have
been for her sisters. Kalina noticed/
decided that Naomi likes to be
patted on her tummy.

I should probably only whisper that rather than shout it from the mountaintops, as I don't want to make the mommies of one or two children cry. To them, I would say that it's actually harder to have just one or two, at least at first.

I should probably also qualify my statement: it's not that hard because I have plenty of help. We're unashamedly living off frozen (homecooked) meals and the kindness of others. If that weren't the case, I probably wouldn't even have time to write this blog in the first place, so you'd all be left wondering. Probably for years.

Here's why mommying three isn't nearly as stressful as mommying one or two:

Sisters enjoying their blankies
together.

As a new mommy with one child, you have no clue what you're doing. Every new development throws you for a loop, plus you really don't know whether they'll ever sleep through the night (or speak in more than one syllable, or quit being terrified of lint, or wear more than one specific pair of shoes, or say "thank you" without being prompted, or whatever the current struggle is). You also feel like you should be able to parent perfectly. Hah! The jokes on you, and you spend your first year or so learning that.

As a veteran mommy with a new baby, you are torn completely in two as you try to balance the immediate needs of two demanding little people. Your older child instantly has to learn patience, sharing and all those other tough things that stymie even grownups (and mommies themselves), while you effectively grow an extra arm (or the nearest you can possibly come to that). You just feel bad for everyone all the time.

More smiles! We can't get enough!

As a mommy of three, I watch my older children play cutely together while I try to get the sweet new baby to smile. Then they come over and help me, and the baby smiles on all of us. It's not so bad. I also have no grandiose ideas of good sleep (nor need of it in my old age), and everyone's well used to waiting patiently, or at least waiting.

(It's also not always quite so good, although I've only faced tears from all three at once, once.)

With three small children, the days are as interesting as they are long. With one, I can now see that life was a bit...quiet? Now, I'm constantly entertained--even if some days are more drama than comedy.

One of our biggest challenges is the drive to and from preschool. Getting out the door on time? No biggie. Keeping the baby from squalling the entire trip, so we don't have to yell to each other to be heard? Nearly impossible for most of the first eight weeks of the baby's life.

One of Kalina's new
favorite hobbies: baby
holding.

Things have improved on that front, however. Naomi doesn't yell quite as loudly if she's swaddled (or is at least more likely to go to sleep), and for an easy $12 a swaddle blanket that works in the car was delivered to my doorstep. (This is one of many reasons Target and I are good friends.) I've also very recently learned one trick of keeping her happy in her carseat--if I hold the carseat and swing or jiggle it gently, she calms right down and often goes to sleep. This is not possible, of course, in a moving car, nor is it good for my back. But I've learned that the condition of your back inversely correlates to the quality of your mothering.

We also get just plain bored. The baby's young age, plus the stress she endures every car trip, keep us home except when absolutely necessary. Even on preschool days we can pretty much only stare at each other after about 4:00, as Mommy is out of ideas that only require one hand and won't create a giant mess (having used up all the really good ones weeks ago), and the kids resist my brightly marketed but still lame attempts of, "Let's make a block city!" or, "Who wants a coloring page?"

I would be much more fun if I weren't trying to soothe a baby who has never really liked the hours between 4:30 and 10:00, but then, so would a lot of things. Not that she's colicky--she just isn't a late afternoon/evening kind of a girl. My current best strategy is to lure the children to the front yard with snacks, and then hope the neighbor kids can play, or at least that one of the girls will turn up a new pet pillbug, which can keep us busy for a 30 minutes, if it survives that long (or even if it doesn't--our pillbugs are often quite "sleepy").

But really, these are very minor things. Babies are now a piece of cake (still confusing at times--I just give up sooner), and preschoolers can be tamed. While we aren't usually (ever?) able to complete Pinterest-worthy crafts and take Pinterest-worthy photographs of them, make our own flax seed-based meatballs for the freezer or spend a full day at the zoo, we can make hedgehog pictures out of leaves, add flax seed to the ultra-easy muffins we were making anyway and walk to the park on a nice morning. Not too hard at all.

In fact, some would even say we're having fun.

What have we learned?

Look! Kalina "reading" to Elise
on her lap!

We've recently discovered that Kalina is a rather abstract thinker. Looking back, we've known this for quite some time (after all, we've spent much of the last 3 1/2 years conversing with blocks instead of stacking them). But there's just something about an official personality description from a real book Matt recently finished that drives the point home.

Abstract thinking informs much of what Kalina does. And although she's very concrete about the precise way in which Lamby and Rudolph must be bathed before their bedtime, she'll also toss them into an imaginary dryer when they're finished and reassure them that no raccoons will come into the room in the middle of the night.

Of course, the last thing I want to do is pigeonhole Kalina at such a tender age. And all young kids tend toward the abstract--just look at their artwork. But understanding the girl's tendencies really explains a lot. And particularly, for this post, anyway, about how she learns.

Matching outfits from Grandma!

I've noticed that Kalina, for the most part, only likes to learn about what she wants to learn about, when she wants to learn about it. She is, therefore, a veritable expert on the sewer system, the planting of seeds and various family members' favorite animals and colors, while she flat-out refuses to even try to write her name, and would much rather spell words than attempt to read them. For a good six months of her 2s she showed a strong hostility toward numbers.

If I can pretend I'm not actually trying to prepare her for kindergarten or real life or anything, it can be fun to observe Kalina in the process of traditional learning:

Me, in my best enthusiastic teacher voice, trying to copy preschool's Ms. Dorie, who as yet has been the only one successful in this particular task: Hey, Kalina, wouldn't it be fun to write a K? Look, you can connect the dots!
Kalina: You do it, Mommy.
Me: Why don't you try? Wouldn't it be fun to write a K for Kalina? Look, just draw a line from this dot to this one! (I show her and trace it with my finger.)
Kalina: But I don't want to.
Me, imitating the voice of a K, because sometimes this works: Write me, Kalina! Please, I'd love to be written!
Kalina: (smile)
Me: Should we use pink? Here, I'll help you!
Kalina, allowing herself to be helped, but as we near the end of the K, scribbling over the whole thing: And the K went into the sewer! Now it's getting hooked up to the balloon, and the balloon is pulling it out. They go onto the houseboat for a ride, and now they're going fishing! More scribbles follow.

Grandpa Tom visited and we
took him out for ice cream
and bunnies at the museum!

Or maybe we're trying to do phonics flashcards (yes, we picked up a set for $1).
Me: Hey, Kalina, U is for umbrella! Uh, uh, umbrella! (Holding the flashcard over my head.)
Kalina, finding other flashcards: The kitten needs an umbrella because it's raining. The horse gets dressed up in its rainboots and they go splashing in puddles together. Splash, splash, splash (bouncing on the rug)! The chick wants to come too! And now off they go in an airplane! (Flying the cards around the room.)

Sometimes, learning just doesn't work very well with an abstract thinker. But wouldn't I be a fun teacher for any other kid? Sometimes I try educational toys on Kalina, but the kittens don't usually like them so we quit, or turn them into rocketships so the kittens can fly to the moon instead. You may say that other kids are like this, too, but I have seen other kids, and they enjoy writing their names--mine has only done it once for her preschool teacher, whom she adores, but definitely not for Mommy, whom she also adores.

Who's teaching who how to "fix" that car?

The amazing thing, to me, is that Kalina at 3 1/2, even with her aversion to studying anything that's not soft and fuzzy (or mucky and gross, like the sewer system), has learned to legitimately read a tiny bit, spell decently well, write a teeny tiny bit, count to 100 (with ambitions of counting to a trillion) and even add a little, all in 30-second increments of teaching, with a glimmer of a promise to continue. Yay, Kalina! I honestly don't know how you did it.

Honestly, our best success has come from educational placemats. Do they make them for advanced English composition or world history?

Learning, itself, is such a tender topic. Do you start flashcards at 18 months, or wait until they beg you for a set because all their friends have them? Do you enroll them in programs and watch educational TV, or cross your fingers and hope nature takes its course and your child learns through thin air? Do you worry or not?

I've got a kitten on my shoulder!

I remind myself all the time that it's certainly not a competition. Each child learns at their own pace and their own way. But then why, when we get ready to sign them up for preschool, do we feel the sudden rush to make sure they know their planets, in order, not to mention deliver a full princess education, so that we can be positive they'll keep up and not be laughed at?

And then there are the playground comments to the tune of: "My child loves flashcards!" or "Watch my 1-year-old count to 10!" Which are all fine and good, until you notice your own child detests flashcards, except as plates for her animals, and was extremely adverse to numbers for just the longest time. Then, you miserably smile and congratulate the happy counting toddler while your own sits just as miserably on the bench beside you at the park, begging to go home, and you can hardly blame her.

Not that I mind bragging--I think it's great when parents are proud of their kids, and I've probably had my moments. But they're more to the tune of, "After Kalina bathed all her animals last night, she put them down for bed so sweetly and sang them all little songs!" Which is certainly brag-worthy in its own right--it just won't get her into college.

[The truly ironic part of all this is that I'm pretty sure Elise will love flashcards, and with her older sister to teach her, she will probably be counting to 10 by this time next year. A great imitator, she already knows how to do her sister's jack-in-the-box dance from music class, change a poopy diaper on her doll (including carefully and proudly shaking the "poop" into the toilet from the diaper), and that 3-year-olds who happen to clean their plate receive what's known as a "treat," which must be delicious but is unfortunately never offered to 1-year-olds. She can also mime just about anything she wants done--"That cookie into my mouth, please," or, "Those balloons, yes, the ones tied to the real estate sign, in my hand, please."]

Possibly the most infuriating part of educating kids is that almost everything you do for them is wrong, depending on the context. Research shows that toys make kids smarter--it also shows that toys spoil them. Do you go along with the wise advice that you shouldn't fill your house with toys, or the wise advice that kids need lots of fun things to expand their minds? Shouldn't a stick and a rock be enough for any kid? So why isn't it, so often? And did you really have to take them to the museum? Shouldn't they be content in their own backyard? I don't pretend to know the answers, but either way I'm visited by mommy guilt. Sometimes I throw caution to the wind and just have fun with the little tykes before they're shipped off to kindergarten. For this reason, we're "only" enrolling Kalina in 2-day-a-week preschool next fall, and I take the girls out for ice cream more than I probably should.

Any way I look at it, however, both Kalina and I are both learning a lot. Her that by counting her kittens she can better assess how many servings of brownie a la mode she'll need, and me that by not forcing Kalina to count her kittens, she's more likely to actually do it. And in the end, I still believe my child is brilliant. In her own abstract way.

Ouch.

The kids get along great when they're
watching TV! (During our long week
of sickness.)

My children's new favorite hobby is beating up on each other. It took me a while to be able to say this out loud: first, because I was in denial, second, because I didn't think this could happen to two sweet little girls (they ARE sweet, I promise!), and third, because I thought it was a stage and they'd grow out of it. But it's now officially not a stage, or at least a little one, so I have to try to fix it.

And it's gotten bad. The one time today when Elise wasn't trying to hit Kalina, they hugged. I happened to be wheeling them around Hobby Lobby in a shopping cart, and everyone around rushed for their cameras. I would've too, except I had to have my hands handy in case the beatings began again.

Poor Kalina, who has to be the "big girl" in this situation, is bearing the brunt of the attacks. At first, Elise only hit out of intense frustration, for lack of scalding words to pour onto the situation, or strength to grab back the toy kazoo that had been yanked out of her hands. But more recently, she's resorted to random acts of terror, stride-by boppings and unprovoked smacks right onto her sister's head. Her aim is impeccable. The only thing that saves the day is the fact that she's not big enough to actually hurt anyone. Poor Kalina, though--it's no fun to be the object of a 1 1/2-year-old's wrath when you're not much older.

New, engaging activity: oobleck!
It's cornstarch and water, so
Elise was allowed to dunk
her crackers in it.

And yet, as much as I'm tempted to, I certainly can't allow the bigger girl to retaliate in kind. Kalina prefers kicking over hitting, or subtly stepping on Elise (or trying to), which can truly cause injury (not to mention a poor outlook for future relationships). We talk about how we really don't want to send Elise to the hospital (or, at least, Mommy doesn't), and how Kalina can simply walk away. But what if Elise has got Lamby in a headlock and Kalina is  also not allowed to grab things out of Elise's hands? Then we call for Mommy to sort things out, but even a full-grown human would get tired of this arrangement.

Nearly constant vigilance on Mommy's part has gotten us through the week with no major injuries. But what about next week? And the week after?

Yesterday while Kalina was in preschool (and loving it!), I mentioned my dilemma to another mom with two girls with a similar age difference. I really like her. She's very nice. And here were her strategies:

Oobleck, by the way, does
NOT keep for a week or
two in a Tupperware.
At all.

1. Discipline by hugging: Almost any problem behavior can be cured with enough hugs. The bigger the better.
2. While her girls were younger (they're 4 and 6 now), her mom came over and they were each able to follow around one girl and divert any conflicts or behavioral issues, all day, from the sounds of things.
3. There's always an underlying issue. And you can always address it positively if you work hard enough.

Neither of these tactics fits my parenting philosophies of:
1. Mommy can only do so much, and the rest is age-accordingly up to you.
2. If you're naughty too much, people can and will get a bit grumpy: this is a natural consequence.
3. We will work through any underlying issues together. But you're still not allowed to repeatedly get away with bad behavior.
4. Hugging is not a discipline method. But there will still be lots of hugs given out.

Despite the occasional retaliation, Kalina has demonstrated remarkable patience and restraint with Elise's new hobby. More so than her mommy, in fact--possibly because she doesn't have it hanging over her head that if she doesn't correct this, she'll be receiving angry text messages about her daughter the bully throughout the next 10 years. The 3-year-old does not yet run from the room when her sister makes an entrance, but she should probably consider doing so in the near future. And she's now only kicking back when she's really tired or frustrated, which I can pretty much live with. Oh, and Elise is more or less banned from Kalina's room, but that's okay, too, if it makes Kalina feel better about her new domestic situation.

So how to deter Elise? I've tried:

1. As every parenting resource recommends, saying "No!" firmly and removing Elise. What happens? Elise head bangs and hits herself, purposely hurting herself to get attention. There is no solution for this.
2. Following the kids around and distracting them with new, engaging activities. This works for about 30 minutes, at which point, it being January and cold, we run out of new, engaging activities.
3. Keeping the girls as separate as possible considering the second-favorite activity of each is sitting on my lap, within fists' reach of each other if they have to share it, and occupying my full attention. Sometimes I use their carseats to separate them, and we go out somewhere.
4. Teaching both about positive forms of touch, including tickles and light pats (not to be confused with hitting). This has been highly successful for Kalina, who has decided that Elise's hits are actually pats since they don't really hurt, and has been tickling Elise a lot. Do I leave it at that?
5. Hugging. Okay, I'll admit it. It worked for neither girl, unless I was using the hug to physically restrain Elise (she soon wriggled out).

Interestingly, Matt's idea of dumping water over Elise in the bathtub this evening when Elise wouldn't quit hitting Kalina (and yet neither girl was clean enough to get out, yet) has proven to be the most successful arrangement. Tomorrow, I'm going to try growling at her.

I should be enjoying every moment of mommyhood, I know, but this is a toughy. On the bright side:
1. Kalina is pretty incredible. Not only is she often still sweet to her sister, but she drew her first picture of a person today! And scribbled over it.
2. Elise "cooked" Play-Doh today for about 30 minutes straight while Kalina drew the aforementioned picture.
3. They hugged in a shopping cart in front of strangers. Maybe hugging kind of works after all?

A growing list of demands

Christmas dinner #2, with Mommy's
side of the family!

Every day as I put Elise down for her nap, Kalina plays quietly in her room as she waits for her own story and snuggle. And almost every day, she needs me for something during this 10-minute period of time--possibly to re-dress one of her Calico Critters, help her blow her nose, or find a missing toy. So she emerges from her imaginary world and comes to find me in the real one, and today, it went like this:

Kalina sneaks quietly into Elise's room holding all the bedding from the bunk beds she/Lamby received for Christmas. This includes two "mattresses," a comforter and a pillow. 

The 3-year-old: "Lamby spit up all over her bedding and we need to wash it in the washing machine.

The whole family attended
Christmas morning #2!

Me: "Sure, okay." Thinking fast. "Why don't you find something in your room you can use for a washing machine?"

Kalina: "No, I want you to put it in the real washing machine."

Me: "Um." Initially stumped, but triumphant, with: "How about you put it at the top of the stairs and I'll wash it for you during your downtime?"

Kalina: "Okay. The real washing machine." Just in case I was confused.

I couldn't finish poor Elise' story without cracking up. After I returned downstairs, I folded it nicely on the couch and hoped Kalina would be fooled.

This describes our house lately, as we're as infested with germs as we are with requests.

Elise got the hang of unwrapping.

Elise, on the other hand, has very little language to make her demands known, but manages to anyway, occasionally without screams. She uses her pointer finger, emphatic grunts, and the occasional first syllable of a word to let us know exactly what she wants. 

Elise: Points at brownie pan. Points at her own mouth. "MMMMMM!!!" she states, almost toppled by her enthusiasm. After she regains her balance, her eyes pierce mine and I'm allowed one second to respond favorably before she either repeats herself, even more emphatically, or screams and writhes on the floor.

What do you think she wants? And how does she know that brownies are delicious? And will she survive the tantrum if I tell her that no, she may not have one?

Lamby gets tucked into her/Kalina's
new bunk beds.

Some of Elise's requests leave no room for misinterpretation, which is unfortunate because the little girl does not yet understand that comprehension does not mean they will be granted. The answer to, "Can I please put the battery in my mouth right now?" will still be a very firm "no, but look over here at this really cool toy giraffe!" even when Elise can ask the question perfectly in three different languages. Comprehension makes squat worth of difference.

On the other hand, some of Kalina's requests are reasonable, politely spoken and humanly possible. "Now it's my turn to play with the toy," said Kalina sweetly in the car the other day about a mini slinky that I'd handed a weary Elise to keep her happy on the way home. (This technique rarely works, but the way, but in this instance, it had.)

Elise uses her new tools to help Daddy
build a new squirrel manger.

Yes, Sweetie it is your turn. But I'm not sure I can dig up a more exciting toy to distract Elise with, wrest the slinky from Elise's grip, hand it to you and endure the rage the follows in the space of even a very long stoplight. In one of those super-mom moments that never would've happened last week in my never-ending head cold/sleepless night semi-coma, I instead managed to distract Kalina and the subject was dropped.

Both girls can be mightily specific in what they'd like, topped only by some celebrities. For instance, after brushing Elise's teeth the other night, she demanded a drink of water, just like Big Sister. "Duh," she insisted, pointing at a paper cup.

Kalina and Uncle Tom both helped
Angela a good deal with the puzzle.

Not entirely a newbie at this whole parenting thing anymore, I filled the cup with about 1/4 inch of water, enough for a toddler-sized swig, and handed it over, draping us both in a towel because bathtime, which we'd just finished, gets me wet enough already. Elise grinned at it, took a sip, and asked for more ("Mo-oh," with the emphasis on the word's second syllable). Since the child had proven herself responsible with 1/4 inch, I doubled her amount and handed it back. More grins and a giggle followed--and then a demand for even more water, without drinking what she'd had. We went through this a couple more times, me continuing to add water because by now I was intrigued and amused, and still somewhat protected by a fluffy towel. Finally, when the cup was 2/3 full, the baby had received what she'd been hoping for: apparently, a paper cup 2/3 full of water. She smiled gleefully at it for a good long while before I convinced her she'd be even happier in her jammies and off to bed.

Touring the transportation museum.

Elise puts in a good showing for a 1-year-old, but I don't think anyone can top a 3-year-old's specific requests. Kalina once spent a good 10 minutes telling me how to take care of a stuffed cow and a stuffed kitten while she went upstairs to get Lamby. I was to hold them if they cried, which they might do while she's gone, and not walk away, and feed the cow grass if it got hungry, and myriad other things that I have now forgotten (but don't tell Kalina, lest I not be asked to babysit anymore). Anyone who's ever watched either of my kids for me knows where she gets this from.

And then there are the things I'm demanded to avoid doing. "I'm going to fix a bowl of ice cream for everyone!" I might announce indulgently, gathering up our play ice cream. "No, because Lamby ate all the ice cream and now she wants to save the rest in the freezer, and the kittens can't have ice cream because they are full, and Lamby is using all the bowls for milk for the kittens," might be the response, which undoubtedly makes sense to someone. Alright, no one gets any ice cream, I guess. My mistake.

Kalina in the navigator's seat of a
train (which she preferred to the driver's seat).

My favorite, though, is they turn my demands back at me. "Kalina, will you please empty the silverware from the dishwasher?" I ask. "I'll do it after you read me this book," she replies. She's picked up on a parenting technique I use, and has the smarts to use it against me. Fortunately, I'm more persistent, and my logic is a bit more developed. An, "I'll read the book after the silverware is emptied," springs Kalina into action, and I've won. Or wait...has she? I would've read the book anyway, right? Of course I would've.

Mostly, my girls' requests are all in good fun--but they keep me on my toes. After all, how is a mommy supposed to wash a sinkfull of dishes when she's being called away every 30 seconds to search for a toy banana, help someone pretend a sock is a mitten, help clean up discarded crayon wrappers, retrieve a book from behind a toy oven, hold Lamby because she'll cry if she's set down, so my to-do list grows exponentially even as I work at it. And yet, I can't say that the banana, sock/mitten, crayon wrappers, book and Lamby aren't as important as my dishes. I guess that's what makes motherhood such a demanding job to begin with.

How to avert a temper tantrum

Poor Kalina. Lately, she can best be described as a steaming mass of torrential moods that froth and boil directly underneath her sugar-coated exterior. Occasionally the mood is hilarity. Other times, not so much. 

Off to go stomp in puddles
with new rainboots!



It used to be that if Kalina became upset, she'd wander about 10 feet off, turn her back to me and refuse to talk. Although inconvenient if we were on our way out the door to the grocery store or something, her disgruntled display was one I could readily accept. A few minutes and a little coaxing later, and we were all happily in the car and on our way out.

I was even beginning to think that the Terrible Two's might not hit at all. Naive, I know.



So it took me by surprise the other day just before naptime when Kalina collapsed into a floppy ball of toddler frustration, gushing tears and emotions simply because I'd hinted that if she wanted to take each of her 17 crib animals poop and potty, she might need to move a bit fast.

"Kalina will not move fast," she steadfastly told me, her eyes boring into mine to see what I'd do.

I've been trained, through the ghostwriting of my parenting book (my name's not on the cover, but I did all the writing), that I do not need to get upset at such declarations, I simply need to offer a choice in a casual tone of voice. This will avert a power struggle and we can both get on with our day more peaceably. It usually works great, so I replied:



"Here, Hon, I'll help." And I moved toward the rather sedentary pile of critters.

At which point I expected to meet with a toddler zooming back and forth from her crib and the potty seat as her animals all prepared for naptime, but this was not to be the case. She instead took personal offense at my remark and spiraled the conversation (which was really not a conversation after all) downward as I began gathering up her "friends" to try to get on with the naptime routine.

 Seconds later, Kalina was lying flat on the floor screaming, I was speechless and Elise was happily giggling in the middle of my bed as she awaited her own nap. I'm really not sure how, but I managed to get us all back from the brink and the girls put down for their naps, during which at least the little one actually slept. Of the animals, only Lamby, I believe, ever went poop and potty.

Unsure about what, exactly, hit me, I resolved that this little scenario would not happen again. But it did, and then again, and pretty soon I was switching all of my previously successful (albeit wimpy due to Kalina's rather easy personality) parenting strategies and just trying to figure out something that would work.

Here's what I found:

 1.) The more obviously I push, the more she pushes back. Therefore, if I can offer Kalina the choice of "Either you can quit throwing Elise's toys or you can just go play in your room alone" in a firiendly, non-confrontational, conversational tone of voice, she's much more likely to play nicely. Easier said than done when you're annoyed, frustrated, mad, in a hurry, exhausted, or a combination of those three.

2.) Flattery will get you everywhere, even to the grocery store. "What a pretty song you're singing as we're getting our shoes on to go out!" and such.

3.) Kalina has a very different agenda for her day than I do. They frequently don't mesh, but a little give and take will work wonders. So yes, we can give 1 or 2 animals a doctor checkup before we both go empty the dishwasher, but the other 15 will live (probably) until the next opportunity.



4.) The less I can boss Kalina around, the better she'll listen and respond. So rather than direct Kalina like she's a personal servant, I need to find more subtle means to get her to do what I want. This is where my advertising career comes in handy every single day. It's less about "Pick up your toys," than it is about "Do you think we can get this entire rug completely cleaned off?" with a big smile on my face.

In other words, with lots of psychological manipulation, you can make sure you and the toddler have a pretty nice day. But hey, it's a job.

And it's an exhausting one. While Elise is still testing the limits of "when, exactly, will Mommy feed me at night?" (after 12:00 and again after 3:30, plus any other time that I'm too bleary-eyed when I look at the clock to make any sense of it), Kalina is testing me to see how loud, to the decibal, she can be in the house. It takes every ounce of my brainpower (which, admittedly, isn't much nowadays) to keep us all on an even keel so we don't all three spend the entire day in tears.

The number of times I've copped a jovial attitude when I've felt nothing of the sort, simply to keep Kalina from sinking into negativity, is uncountable. Beyond 11, even (the highest number Kalina accepts as true).

But it works. Kalina is slowly learning the rules of the house, usually at the pace of one manageable meltdown a day.

Fortunately, it's just a phase, right?