Christmas is soon upon us, and I can’t wait for it to be even sooner this year. Ever since I told Polina about Christmas and, more specifically, Santa Claus, I’ve been hearing almost daily, multiple times per day, “I want Santa.” “Santa is coming. He’s going to put presents under the Christmas tree.” “I want Christmas.” And variations thereof. Every day Polina reminds me of Christmas, and I couldn’t be happier that she loves the holiday as much as I do. More
I have been so busy with the house the last few months (buying, renovating, moving) that Polina has really gotten the short end of the stick. Polina has not played with another child in two months. We haven’t gone to a kid-friendly activity since June. When I think about doing something special with Polina, I think about going to a park because I feel like I need time to catch up with her, even though she is “with me” all day. The time we have spent together the last several month is, for the most part, not quality time. I attend to her basic needs, but a lot of times in the past few months, I was just trying to get things done.
So during the time I was occupied with my world, Polina has matured. In the past week or so, she started saying “bye bye.” Before, she used to wave her hand in silence. She knew what it meant, but said her goodbyes by grinning and waving. Rather suddenly (to me), she began saying “bye bye” one day. I think it happened when she said it to our rabbit one day after we got done playing with him. It was rather sudden. I don’t think I even said, “bye bye.” She waved, I picked her up so she could see him, and she waved again and said, “bye bye.”
Wait wait, I thought you were that girl. Now you’re this girl. My husband thinks it’s great that she is learning to talk. I’m not without nostalgia, because my little girl is growing up. One of the things that is hard for me as a parent of a young child is that she is not in one place for long. It’s hard because I get to know one person, and then this growth spurt happens and it’s different. (Well it would be worse if she didn’t develop, but it’s still hard.)
She is also saying “hot” instead of using sign language. She is saying “dog” instead of “ah ah,” which she insisted on saying for a year. I would say “dog,” or “sobachka” in Russian, and she would say “ah ah.” Now I kind of miss her saying “ah ah.” I’ve started saying, “ah ah.” She is saying “cat” instead of using sign language. She is still using the sign for “bird,” which brings me comfort. I want the best for my daughter and of course I want her to excel, but I feel that with these changes my daughter is like sand slipping through my fingers.
She is saying “faa” for fork and “spoo” for spoon whereas before spoons and forks were both “faa.” She insisted on saying “faa” even when I told her it was a spoon. When I gave up trying to convince her, she began calling a spoon a spoon.
She also entertains herself more. I remember when I couldn’t wash the dishes because she wanted me to play with her. I remember when I couldn’t get any chores done because she wanted my full attention. It was a really tough time. Now, when she sees me doing the dishes, she wants to sit on the counter beside me. When I’m sweeping, she asks for a broom so she can sweep with me. When I’m doing laundry, she sits on the dryer and rocks out to the cycle. On the rare chance I watch a video, she is there beside me. Sometimes I just sit and watch her play and occupy herself. She chooses the toys she wants to play with instead of me choosing them for her. To me these developments are monumental.
Sometimes I see older girls and I think Polina is going to speak and have opinions and… I’m scared. Childhood is long but short.
Polina has a memory. Today, she bought out a book I hadn’t read to her in six months. She remembered the name of the book and that there is a song in it before I even opened the book. Six months ago she was 22 months old. She remembered something now from when she was 22 months old.
Polina’s choice of food has widened. She is asking for butter chicken and last night, steak! She asks for things off our plates. Not too long ago, we were the ones encouraging her to eat and try different foods. She went through a period where no matter what we offered her, she ate Indian naan bread and rice almost exclusively. Now look at her go.
She has also started not only giving hugs and kisses but saying “haaa” when she wants to give or receive a hug. Before, sometimes she liked receiving them, but sometimes she squirmed. She didn’t use to give hugs or kisses. She is becoming more loving.
She is also becoming physically stronger. Sometimes she still kicks, squirms and laughs when I try to put her pants on. Pete said I should say “no” more forcefully, so I make eye contact and say, “No!” She still thinks it’s funny to squirm and kick. She almost kicked me in the face a couple times. Today, I said “No!” and when she continued kicking and laughing, I slapped her butt. She made the sign for owie and her expression changed to one of hurt. I told her, “You gave mommy an owie. Your kicking gives mommy an owie.” Then she stopped and let me put on her pants and I felt she understood that she was causing me pain. I don’t like spanking her, but I haven’t been able to communicate with her not to do something any other way. There is nothing worse for me than Polina making an owie sign and pointing at me. I am ashamed that the first person that hurt my daughter is… me. Sometimes I wonder if she will like me, or even if she still likes me. Then she initiates a hug and kiss, and it makes me feel like things are okay.
Polina knows some letters. She is interested in letters and books and words. I am too, but she also has my parents’ genes, both of whom went through books like water. This girl is interested in the fine print, like the pages about book publishers and copyright information. I think her favorite letter is the letter “O.” She makes a face like an opera singer and says it slowly and carefully, “Ooooooh.” If she doesn’t know a letter or word for something, she guesses at it or makes it up herself (she has a few words she made up for things, like when she points to something but doesn’t know what to call it she says, “dadn.”)
Polina has a curious mind. I try to support it as much as I can, because my mom didn’t say, “no” too often and I didn’t take advantage of that freedom or turn into a rebel. Quite the opposite. While my peers were eager for “freedom” in adolescence, I just continued in the realm I had lived in, and I didn’t feel any pull to do crazy things. Just the opposite- freedom taught me to be cautious and conservative. I’m not saying this would have worked for everyone, but it worked for me.
Sometimes I observe what parents say “no” to their children about and I think, “yes, I understand why a child would want to do the opposite after so many years of living under rules that don’t always make sense to them or really aren’t that important.”
Since the title of this blog is “Growth Spurt,” I want to add one more thing. Polina’s pants have turned to shorts. Shirts that went down to her wrists are now just below her elbows. I read that in Feng Shui, you’re not supposed to constrain your child in small clothes. (They are not tight and I do use the shirts for undershirts.) I think I’m subconsciously constraining my child. I should be happy that she is maturing, but I’m not. I’m scared. I will support it of course, but I’m scared, because she is one day closer to growing up and living her own life and… leaving. I don’t want her to leave. She’s only two, and I’m not ready for her to leave. Thank goodness for long childhoods.
Time flies when you’re having fun. There is a picture of me with Polina when she was 5 months old that I use as wallpaper on my laptop computer. I am kissing her from behind, and she has a focused look on something, apparently uninterested in my affection. She, of course, is smaller in that picture than she is now, at a newly minted 15 months (i.e., her first week being 15 months.) Her hair is shorter in the picture, her face more scrunched up. I have 15 months of memories so far with her and I don’t want to lose any of them, so I decided to write them down, lest I do. I don’t want to forget:
1. How carefully you look at things, and turn things over to examine the back, like the sprout fruit puree container. You like to look at the back, where the label is, before you decide to drink it. It looks like you’re reading the label. You do the same thing with your toys, and pens, and anything else you’re trying to figure out.
2. How you fall asleep with my booby in your mouth. You don’t fall asleep any other way. I have to gently extricate it. Your naptime is my time for myself. I cherish it. It has gotten a lot easier to get up out of bed from being next to you. You used to wake up when I made a move. Thank you, dear, for giving me some time during the day to type, eat, read, relax. THANK YOU!
3. How giving you are. You like giving things to people. You gave something for the first time to your father the Friday before your first birthday. You like hearing “thank you” and “spasibo.” You take things back and give it to me again just so you can hear “thank you” and “spasibo.” Unfortunately, it doesn’t translate to other kids. I’ve seen you give things to kids and they just took it without saying anything, or just walked away without taking what you offered. I’ve seen you walk to other children, pointing to what you want, and they hold it tighter. Polina, I love you so much and want to protect you from harm. This is a nasty side of life. People want their things. Not everyone wants to share. I hope my love makes up for some of these failings.
4. I don’t want to forget how you sat on my head and started bouncing on it last week when I was still waking up in the morning.
5. How you started saying the vowel “o” for the first time two days ago. This is your second vowel after “ahhh.”
6. The way you look after you wake up from a nap- hair disheveled, eyes wide, and expression of waiting for something.
7. The way you nudge your head next to me to indicate you want to breastfeed.
8. How gently you play with Fisher Price L’il People. You like the people and the playground. (I choose good toys, don’t I?)
9. How you got on a Rody horse for the first time by yourself today, a mere 5-6 attempts after I helped you. Now getting off, that’s the hardest part.
10. The look of bliss on your face when I bounce you on my knee.
11. How intently you look at things. You are an observer. Good for you. Observe first, speak second.
12. How good, and naïve you seem when you approach other kids. One girl shared with you in the library and you played well. She was the kindest child we met so far.
13. How emotionally and personally you take things. When you don’t get what you want, you cry like there’s no tomorrow. It’s a visceral reaction: your eyes narrow, cheeks point upward, and your mouth wails in pain. Sometimes you hit your head intentionally by thrusting yourself backward against a kitchen cabinet. Sometimes you fall to the floor and howl. I pick you up and comfort you. Things will get better. You won’t cry about these things as you get older.
14. The way you help out in the morning by pushing down on the futon after your father and I lift it back on the frame. You have a big grin on your face when you help us.
15. When you smile, my world lights up. When you cry, it brings out the worst feelings in me.
16. The way you say Mmm mmm mm mmm to tell me what you want. I know what you want because I’m around you all day. I think it may discourage you from talking because I can understand you most of the time. That will change, as your world will become more complex, simply because you’ll understand more things and need to communicate more.
I’m sure this list will grow. Some of these memories will be replaced by other memories, because there will be more of them. This is my love letter to you now.
When Polina was born, my husband’s sister gave her a wooden board with cut out letters that spell her name. It is a neat present, as the letters fit perfectly into the board and Polina for a while had a love affair with the letter “n,” then the letter “a.” Every night before she goes to bed, I put all her toys back where they belong, and reassemble anything disassembled to make sure nothing is missing. The Little People go back to their playground, the cars next to their track, the balls in their wooden cut outs, the alphabet cards back in alphabetical order. My husband calls it OCD, but I call it being thorough. On a certain level, though, he is right. If something is missing, I start to feel anxious until everything is in its right place, where it belongs. I’m not debilitated by this, though, just affected. In fact, I can be pretty disorganized, and I compensate by organizing.
A couple weeks ago, as I was putting back the wooden letters of my daughter’s name that she scattered across the living room floor, I noticed that the letter “i” was missing. I looked all around for it, but didn’t find it. As it was late and tomorrow was another day, I let it go. The next day, however, I didn’t find it either. This created some anxiety as not long before that, I noticed two out of four magnetic blocks I bought for her also missing. (These things are pretty cool as well. You can make a Microsoft-like logo with them, or pull them back and forth vertically. Polina and I both enjoyed playing with them.) I began thinking that she was stashing these somewhere and if I didn’t find her stash, more toys would go “missing.” I looked behind the VCR and DVD players, even looked inside the VCR, under the futon, in all of her toy boxes, behind the jumper and doll bed and activity table, and didn’t find it. I looked in the kitchen, got on my hands and knees to look along the edges of the cabinets, put on my household gloves to dig through the trash, pulled trash into a different trash bag, and found nothing. I checked under the bed, under the blankets beside the bed, in our table drawers, and still nothing. Even Pete took to searching for it. Every night when I put her toys away, there it was staring at me, P-o-l—na. Polna, which ironically in Russian means “full,” or if you separate “pol” and “na” into two words means “half” and “here.” How ironic that it did feel like her name was only “half here.” I never missed the letter “i” before as much as I did now. I really took it for granted. The letter “P” and the letters “n” and “a” were more popular. “I,” I took for granted.
By the end of a week without the letter “i,” I was feeling pretty anxious and down. My hopes were somewhat raised by the suggestion that Pete may be able to make another letter “i.” He builds half million dollar equipment, after all. Still, I didn’t remember what color the letter was, and without matching the pastels correctly, it would, I thought, always look different. There was some consolation in that I found the two missing magnetic blocks that looked like a Microsoft logo (they were in the bedroom, on the floor near a laptop, concealed but in plain view). Then this week, Pete asked if I wanted to watch some old films of his family (like, from the 60’s). He got out the old VHS tape (it was converted to VHS, in case you were wondering) and as I was lying comfortably on the futon, he calmly said he found the letter “i.” “What?!” I exclaimed. He took it out of the VCR. Happiness swept over me. Real, pure, happiness. (Sometimes it’s the little things in life that make a difference.) I had looked in there, but it was apparently farther back than I had thought. I put the “i” back where it belonged and her name never looked so complete before. It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. We settled back to a nice evening together, more relaxing now that everything was back where it belonged.
