parenting

Crying it Out to Heal From Within

~ theantelopediaries

My Personal Journey with my Daughter

Courtesy of Unsplash

Early in my career as a parent, when Polina was a toddler, I attended a bi-weekly parenting group inspired by Waldorf tradition. Waldorf believes in protecting and, in essence, extending childhood. I liked that idea. In American culture, there is pressure on children to grow up fast. Sometimes we see it in children’s clothing, cut in a way that’s more adult and less child like. Sometimes it’s comments like telling a four year old they’re “big.” Big compared to what? Compared to an infant, a 4 year old is big, but compared to the span of her life, not even close.

More →

When a Mother’s Love Isn’t Enough

~ theantelopediaries

girl-563719_1280

The last week or so Polina has been having a hard time emotionally.  A really hard time.  She starts screaming at the slightest annoyance.  It could be something as simple as me putting a toy in a place she does not want or my husband correcting her placement of a puzzle piece.  Sometimes I don’t even know why she’s screaming.  It has been really irritating, to say the least.

Today, when I returned from a training in time to put her to bed, she was very happy to see me.  Then when it was time to get ready for bed, another side came out. She screamed because I took off her Hello Kitty shirt to put on a warmer shirt.  (We are still sleeping in layers and using electric blankets out here in April.)  I kept telling her that she can wear her Hello Kitty shirt over the warmer shirt, but either she didn’t understand or she didn’t believe me.  (This is a shirt Polina fell in love with at my neighbor’s garage sale last week and which she did not take off for the next four days.  I hid it in the laundry basket and finally washed it today.  As soon as it came out of the dryer, Polina put it on.)

Polina was inconsolable.  She kicked.  She screamed.  She reached for her desired Hello Kitty shirt and tried to pull it over her head.  She refused me putting on a sweat shirt.  She is one strong, willful, determined kid.

Perhaps I would have acquiesced to her demands if she didn’t already have a runny nose the past two weeks, probably from me acquiescing to her demands to run barefoot around the house. I don’t know how other people are affected by a child’s screaming, but Polina’s screams tear at my insides.  It is difficult to bear.  My mother would have left her alone to cry it out.  Peter’s mother would have spanked her a long time ago.  Neither one of these is appealing to me.

It occurred to me that there is a third way, and that is to surround her with love until she calms down.

I tried to do that.  She pushed me away.  She kept screaming.  I was at my wit’s end.  Love and irritability are not compatible.

“Please stop,”  I said.

She gave me the sign for “owie,” tapping her head with her fist.

“Where is the owie?” I asked. She pointed to me.  I was giving her an owie because I took off her Hello Kitty shirt.  Or maybe it was because I was telling her to stop.

This was ridiculous.  My child has a runny nose and I wasn’t going to let her sleep in a short sleeved shirt. I finally got her other arm into the warmer shirt, pulled out the Hello Kitty shirt and put it on.

And just like that, she stopped crying.

She got what she wanted.

“Night night,” she said calmly.  If it wasn’t for her red face and the beads of tears under her eyes you wouldn’t have known that she just had a fit.

I lay down next to her as she fell asleep.

“I love you,” I said.

Polina pointed to the ceiling and said something in her own language.

“I love you,” I said again, and kissed her head three times, a nightly ritual, and put her hand in mine.

A few minutes later, she fell asleep. I don’t know how much love it takes to quiet someone.  In the end it was the Hello Kitty shirt that quieted her down.  But I hope one day, she’ll know, and it will be enough.

A Spat at the Playground

~ theantelopediaries

goats-173940_1280

When I started the Antelope Diaries, I never envisioned writing about a spat at a playground. I really never even considered it.

But it happened to me today. What it taught me is that when push comes to shove (and, thank God, it didn’t come to that) our animal instincts come out. Two of us behaved like animals today.

Read on.

Today was a beautiful sunny day. In our area that means a lot. When the sun comes out, we bolt for the outdoors. You’d be crazy not to. If we had more sun, this would be a very different place to live. People would be… happier. As it is, we’re a tech hub with the fourth or fifth worst traffic in the country, depending on who you listen to. So a lot of the time we’re stuck in rain and not able to move anywhere even if we wanted to.

A social worker once told me that a high percentage of people who work at a major software company here have Asperger syndrome. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but what I’ve seen in practice from 15 years living here is that people are more comfortable with computers than they are with people. It is very hard to make friends here, unless maybe you “friend” them on facebook. (How did “friend” ever become a verb?) If you go to coffee shops around here, you see more people sitting across from each other engaging with their laptops than they are with people sitting directly across from them. And those so called “smart” phones that people fondle… Ugh.

Anyway, people here are comfortable with a veneer of niceness, like the kind you see in an email. Scratch the surface though, and it may not be that pretty.

I was at a playground in a posh area of the city today. There are three types of swings there. The baby swing, which encloses a child 360 degrees, the traditional “adult” swing, with a rubber strip attached on two ends, and something in between: a plastic chair with straps that swings. (This chair looks like it was made for handicapped kids, but able-bodied kids swing on it as well.)

Polina was in the baby swing when she pointed to let me know she wanted to go to the swing with the plastic chair. There are only two of these in the entire playground. We stood nearby and waited for one to become available.

Now, at other playgrounds I have been to, it is customary, when another child is waiting, to swing for some reasonable amount of time (a couple minutes or so) and then let another child have a turn. The second child swings for a couple minutes, then let’s another child have a turn, and so on.

The two mothers at these two swings kept swinging and swinging with no mention of letting another child have a turn. It was like we weren’t there.

Okay… So we waited patiently. Finally one mother took her child off the swing and it became available. As Polina and I walked the five steps needed to get to this swing, another child got on. It was a child of the mother who was pushing a child on the first swing. She had two children.

At first I thought he got on by mistake.

“Could we use that swing?” I asked the mother politely.

“He wants to swing. He has been waiting too. Longer than you.”

“You have a child on the other swing.”

“Yes, I have two children.”

At other playgrounds I have been to, it is customary for siblings to share a swing (i.e. trade places) if there is a line so other children can have a turn. I’ve never seen a parent occupy the only two types of swings on a playground with both of her children when another child is waiting.

By that logic, if the Duggar family was at a playground, no kid would get on a swing.

I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she should share and she got angry at me. We both had strong personalities and the exchange didn’t look flattering in front of our children.

In short, we behaved like animals.

I was so angry I picked Polina up and carried her to another section of the park. She started howling.

I was so beside myself, I started telling my story to a person sitting next to me. I was so upset, I didn’t know if I was talking to a man or woman. The ego inside of me just had to connect with someone.

The woman, as it turns out, I was talking to said nothing.

“Don’t you have an opinion?  Do you have any children?” I asked when I was finished.

“Yes. It’s not my job to get involved with your affairs.”

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I’m the crazy person talking to strangers that just want to be left alone.

I felt so isolated. I felt like crap.

After a few minutes, the swing we argued over became available. Polina and I walked over. I noticed two black people nearby who witnessed the whole incident staring at me.

“Are you looking at me?” I asked as I pushed Polina on the swing.

They both continued to look at me.

“Are you looking at me?” I asked as I walked over to them, emboldened by the adrenaline already running through my veins.

The woman continued to stare at me with wide eyes.

“Do you speak English?!” I asked standing in front of her.

“Are you talking to me?” she asked in perfect English.

“Yes. Stop looking at me.”

And I walked back to Polina on the swing.

She continued to look, said some things I couldn’t hear to her male friend, but I ignored them.

“It’s not worth it.” I said to myself.

I calmed down.

Why was I so upset?

At this point, I could ask, “If you have/had two kids, would you take up two swings if another child is waiting?” but frankly I don’t care. It wouldn’t matter to me, because I would never do it. If you have five kids, would you take up all five swings if someone was waiting? It just doesn’t make logical sense to me.

I’m not the one to preach here, obviously, given my own issues, but this woman taught her kids not to share and to take what you can get.

I taught my kid an absolutely horrible way to respond to conflict.

My meditation teacher taught me that some people operate on an animal level and through reincarnations become more civilized.

Today, this woman and I behaved like animals. We were after our own interests.

I told my husband what happened during dinner this evening. He approached the entire matter very calmly.

That’s what I need more of. Calmness. Indifference. Detachment.

I need it in this lifetime, because that’s the kind of place I live in: a veneer of niceness.

Many styles of writing portray the author in a favorable light. I took a chance here. Have you ever had a spat at the playground? How did you handle it?

Hunting for Easter Eggs

~ theantelopediaries

crosslines-305821_1280

We celebrated Easter today.  Not in a religious way.  We didn’t go to church (although my husband said he thought about it.)  But we did get dressed up and go Easter egg hunting in our yard.

This was Polina’s first Easter egg hunt.  I deliberately avoided public Easter egg hunts because Polina is new to this “sport” and I didn’t want her to be in competition with other kids.  Sure enough, when we embarked on the Easter egg hunt (with both cameras rolling, mine and Pete’s) Polina took her sweet old time.  She picked up an egg and opened it.  Then she picked up another egg and opened it.  I could see this would take a while.

“Polina, why don’t I hold the basket while you pick up the eggs?” I offered.

She let me hold the basket while she put in one or two eggs, but then she understood the concept.  She took the basket away from me and ran looking for the colored plastic eggs.

“More.  More,” she said after she picked up each one.

It’s interesting what we teach our children.  Here she was innocently picking up each egg and actually curious about what was inside of it.  In a few short minutes, we taught her how to find satisfaction in the facade.  She became busy finding the eggs first while her initial curiosity about its contents became secondary.

I may be reading too much into it, and that’s okay, because that’s the type of person I am.  Sometimes I overanalyze.  But then I see kids push each other down in a competitive spirit and I think we as a society need to do more analyzing about what we’re doing, and it starts with parenting.

Next year, I’m going to let her take her sweet old time, no matter how long it takes.

Here are a few pictures from the expedition

The innocence of opening each egg to know what's inside, and not knowing that she is standing next to a blackberry bush. Hey! Who put them there?
The innocence of opening each egg to learn what’s inside, and not knowing that she is standing next to a blackberry bush. Hey! Who put the eggs there?

Oooh. I know where the stash is.
Oooh. I know where the stash is.

.

Polina’s Growth Spurt

~ theantelopediaries

mushroom-32993_1280

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.