Mommy's Pen

A writer's notes on family

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Archives for April 2010

Saturday Feature: Mistakes

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Every Saturday I bring you a parenting mistake my husband and I have made. Please have a laugh or cry at our expense — we really are good parents, I swear.

 This week: Mistake Vignettes 

  • On Wednesday evening, just back from work and still in a work mindset, Nora was using her outside voice at the table and I accidentally told her to “shut it,” as if she were my friend Monica.  I immediately apologized.
  • Also on Wednesday evening, I gave her a jelly bean with dinner and then dessert of mint ice cream.  She got hyper at bedtime and cracked me in the cheekbone with her skull.
  • Yesterday on the car ride home, she said something brilliant and I blurted out, “Holy Crap!”  Which led to her blurting out, “Holy Crap!”

Babies Hurt People

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I am slightly near-sighted.  I have glasses for this, but I don’t wear them all the time.  Today I am wearing them because the bottom rim of the frames obscures the goose egg on my right cheekbone.

We didn’t know it when we decided to have a kid, but parenting is a contact sport.  When Nora was an infant, Ben and I coined the phrase “babies hurt people.”  We were scratched, grabbed, head-butted and kicked by our little bundle of joy.  I’m always a bit astonished after each injury I sustain — this creature, who I outweigh by about a hundred pounds, can inflict this much damage?  Why am I not terrified of her?

Because she has no clue.  She is just vehemently squirming through childhood and I get in the way from time to time.  Obviously, she’s not trying to give me a fat lip. 

Last night, when her skull cracked me in the cheek bone, I screamed so loud that she started screaming.  The force of her blow was great enough that if the trajectory had been a bit different, I’d be writing this with a broken nose.  Ben hustled her out of the room so I could whimper in peace, but I quickly asked him to bring her back (along with an ice pack), so I could try to calm her fright while simultaneouly encouraging her to use gentle touches. 

Nora is extremely tactile.  She has to touch everything and not just with her hands.  Sometimes, I’ll catch her running her forehead against the cool outer wall of her bedroom. Not in an autistic kind of way, just in a that-feels-neat kind of way.  So, she does this thing which she calls “clonking” where she wants to bump her head into your head.  I strongly discourage this, but occasionally, she can’t stop herself.  Add to that the surge of energy she gets when she’s trying to resist bedtime and you have a shiner waiting to happen.

So, expectant parents out there, heed my warning.  When you’re stocking up on baby gear, don’t forget your pads and hockey mask.

The Tear Test

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I’m a big fan of sharing baby clothes. We’ve been given a whole mess of hand-me-downs for Nora. I pay it forward at every opportunity.

The four regular readers of this blog know that I am a sentimental freak.   So, it will come as no surprise that first time I started gathering up a bag of clothes for a friend’s baby, I picked up a little vintage print onesie only to have my eyes fill with tears.  That day, I made a rule, if a garment makes me cry, it goes in storage.  When I hand off a bag of clothes, I let the recipient know that they needn’t worry if anything gets ruined.  I only pass along things that I never need to see again.  I don’t need to harbor resentments towards a friend because her kid got poop stains on a party dress.

What do I plan to do with a Rubbermaid container full of potential tears?  Besides keeping it handy for a good cry, I’m saving it for Nora.  My in-laws were wonderful about saving special items from Ben’s childhood.  They have them stashed and wrap them up for us on special occasions.  I especially treasure a little pair of Osh Kosh overalls with embroidery and patches on the knees.  Someday, I’ll make a wall hanging of Ben and Nora’s baby overalls, side by side.  Whichever room I hang it in, I’ll put a cabinet right underneath, stocked with tissues.

I’m tearing up just thinking about it.  Sniff, sniff.

“Cling Wrap” Campbell

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“Cling Wrap” Campbell has a nice, alliterative ring, but really, my daughter is more like Press’n Seal.  As we all know, Press’n Seal is the superior product when it comes to gripping ability. Especially when she is ill, Nora is loath to release me from her clutches.  You could hang me from the ceiling by my ankles and she would still not let go.

During her illness last week, I carried her everywhere with me.  To the bathroom, the basement, the chicken coop.  She was sick, so  I humored her.  There are precious few ways of providing comfort to a toddler with a stomach bug, if it makes her feel an eensy bit better to stay glued to my hip, so be it.  But now, she is healthy, yet still acting like twenty-nine pound sultan. 

It’s going to be a weaning process over the next few days to get her use her own legs again.  Perhaps I could bribe her with new shoes?  Then again, there will come a time when she won’t want me to touch her with a ten foot pole — then what will I do for exercise?