I’ve heard it said that babies are closest to the “other side,” because they are newly born. I’ve also heard it said that the reason that newborns sleep so much is because they are still connected to that “other side.” Too bad they can’t talk yet. Oh the stories they might tell. I don’t have a strong opinion about the “other side.” However, by observing my daughter, I’ve came to some conclusions as to what the other side may have looked like to her, before it was affected by the physical laws of this earth.

What I’ve learned from Polina is that the other side is infinite.

I realized this when, not long after we started potty training, she began spinning the roll of toilet paper so that it all fell on the floor. One time I stood at the sink doing my business when I looked over to see half the roll gone from her spinning. “Polina!” I cried. After a couple instances of this (before we put up a gate), it occurred to me that in her world, there is an infinite amount of toilet paper. In my mind, I have x number of rolls. Polina doesn’t care about that. She doesn’t know that there is an “end” to toilet paper, and if there is, so what? She doesn’t know that toilet paper costs money. (Have you looked at the price of toilet paper recently?) All she knows is how fun it is to spin the roll.

Then I was faced with a dilemma: to let her spin, or not to spin. Here’s why it was a dilemma for me: This is probably the last period in her life where she will actually enjoy spinning toilet paper. It brought such a huge smile to her face. Can I sacrifice one roll, one roll to let her have, what looks like, ecstasy? I know teenagers like to throw toilet paper onto trees. I’ve never done it, so I don’t know if it’s as much fun as what Polina appears to be experiencing.

Every part of my body was telling me not to allow her to spin because it is so contrary to sensible behavior. But I wasn’t thinking of it how it appears here, on our side. On her side, the roll is infinite, money is no issue.

Another example of the infinite- she scribbles on one page of drawing paper, then turns to the next for another small scribble, and so on. I try to direct her to draw more on the same page as opposed to “wasting” paper. Then again, she doesn’t know that paper is finite or costs money. In her world, paper is infinite.

Stickers also appear to be infinite. It used to be that when she went on the potty, she was happy with one sticker. Then one day I gave her two, and then she asked for more. From then on, it was wage inflation. One day, she persuaded me to give her the whole roll of stickers. It was difficult to watch, but fortunately I paid only a dollar for 300 of them.

I come from a culture of scarcity. Most Russians are shaped by the history of World War II, famine, and communism. It’s in our DNA, so to speak. The result? We don’t throw good things away, and certainly don’t waste things. Have a spot on an apple? We cut it out. I remember sitting with a Russian woman in her 60s as she cut the bad spots off an apple. By the time she was done with it, there was hardly anything left to the apple, but she still put it on a serving plate. Looking at what was left of the apple, it was one of those situations that could have been interpreted as comic, tragic, or both. This was in 2014. “There’s no famine,” my husband reminds me. He doesn’t understand. It’s the possibility of it happening, and the fact that it did happen. Cutting away at the apple honors those who came before us, whether they lived or died.

In Polina’s world, there is no famine. Food is always in abundance. (Kind of my husband’s way of thinking.) She doesn’t eat for the future (eat beyond full so you’re not hungry later). She expects that there is food all the time.

On the other hand, when she really likes something, she stuffs it in her mouth and asks for more, as she does with chocolate. Does she really think she can stuff herself with chocolate and get more? How much can a little girl eat? At age two, she is tall and thin, but I think she could have eaten all of our reserves of chocolate.

In Polina’s world, time is infinite. “I have to get ready Polina.” “I have to do chores, Polina.” “Polina, we have to get ready.” Nope, not in Polina’s world. There are no clocks, only present desires. Who cares if your mother wants to go to the gym and wakes up two and a half hours earlier and still doesn’t make it on time. There’s something wrong with that scenario in my world, but not in Polina’s. Time is infinite and therefore nobody ever runs late.

To support her side means she is less prepared for our side. To support our side means she loses connection with her side and then spends lots of time and money seeking spiritual fulfillment in adulthood. Ugh, the dilemma of it all.

I’ve also learned that there is no separation on the other side.

I know this because my daughter clings to me. She clung to me as a baby, and I let her have me. The few times I went out for a “break,” my husband called asking me to come back, because Polina was screaming from the separation. Most moms I know let their children scream because a) they need a break and b) they believe it teaches their child independence. Me, I was and am a wuss. I was her primary provider for almost a year and a half. Polina can handle separation from me now, but sometimes she still clings to me. I do my best to accommodate, but it’s painful to hear her cry when I have to wash the dishes, or work on our new 47-year old house. Independence means separation, which, when my daughter doesn’t want it, means pain, as reflected in her eyes and her crying. I’m not religious, but I think “God” must have always been there. That’s why separation is so difficult on this side. It’s not fun for me either.

There is way more love on the other side than there is here.

At some point, the honeymoon of having a baby ends and the character building, for both sides begins. It’s akin to two knives sharpening each other. My two-year-old’s will is sometimes stronger than mine. I don’t know how she does it. It bothers me that she convinces me to do things I don’t want to do, like read nine books before bed when I only planned to read half that amount.

Another example of this? Polina doesn’t understand the effect her crying has on me. My loving nature runs out and I have to take a break. For anyone who has seen or experienced it, the patience to perfectly parent a two year old is amazing.

Other references from the other side include:

If Polina could talk, I think she would sometimes ask me,“Why can’t you understand me?” Because I’m not an omniscient God. You have to use your words Polina. Your mind is becoming more advanced and I can’t always guess correctly what you want anymore.

“Why can’t you bear my crying?” Because I’m not omnipotent or as loving as God; because He has more patience, as demonstrated by your expectations. I wish I was more loving. Then I would never be frustrated when you cry. You are teaching me love, but it is I whose responsibility it is to provide it.

Another reason why I think people are embellished with love on the other side is because children are not born to appease you. They expect you to appease them. In other words, babies love you conditionally. Watch their reaction when you don’t give them something they want. Polina turns her back and cries. If I give in, there is a conciliatory look, and sometimes a smile, behind the glossy eyes where the tears had been. She is used to having everything she wants in all of its manifestations.

This list is by no means complete. These are just my observations as of this date.

Originally written on  August 24, 2014