My new evening ritual involves sitting in the upstairs hallway with a book, the light from the bathroom spilling out just enough to read. Not that I actually spend much time reading. No, I spend anywhere from 2 to 3 hours reminding Giuliana to go back to bed, putting her back in bed, rocking her and then putting her back in bed, chasing her around her room and then putting her back in bed, getting her more milk and then putting her back in bed. You get the idea. Last night I cleaned smeared Vaseline from her changing table, her legs, the floor, and then put her back to bed.
She, suddenly, doesn't sleep. It's been hot and our central AC is on the fritz. But this began before the hot weather. But it doesn't help. I blamed it on too long naps at my mother's but then Grandma was gone for a week and Giuliana didn't take a nap for 6 straight days. Still her nights were spent being chased back to bed. Some nights I finally fall into bed, exhausted from this new, unwelcome ritual, only to have her almost immediately crawling in beside me, her hot, wiggly little body smooshed against me despite the heat.
She is a wise little girl, though. She knows how infinitely cute she can be. "Giuliana, go back to bed," I state from my perch in the hallway as she peers out at me from the crack in her door. She yanks open the door and rushes to my side. She plants a big, wet kiss on my mouth and says, "Mommy, I wuv you!" Then she sits down and begins to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," with hand motions, while I crack up, forgetting I'm supposed to be stern and consistent about ushering her back to bed.
I keep telling myself it's only a phase. She'll eventually go back to quietly winding down and settling in by herself. If it's not a phase, please don't tell me. I prefer to believe this won't last. I confess to getting pretty frustrated around hour two of this little game. I start saying things I don't like to hear myself say. "Giuliana, you HAVE TO go to bed. I've had enough." "Giuliana, you aren't listening to Mommy and you're being naughty. Now go to bed." I check myself, though. Usually after only a moment or two. And I go back and gently put her back in bed. Give her her 4 millionth kiss of the night, wish her sweet dreams...again. I don't want to yell. I don't want to punish her because she can't unwind. But I do want her to go to sleep. I do want to have at least an hour to myself at the end of the day.
**********
It's potty training time at our house. It probably should have been potty training time a month or two ago. Giuliana is more than ready. She talks about the potty. She sits on the potty. She asks, begs to sit on the potty. She hasn't actually done anything on the potty yet, but she begs to sit there, none the less. But I have been putting it off. When it's warmer, I've told myself. When she can run around the house in just a pull-up and a tee-shirt. When I have more time to spend pumping her full of liquids and parading her up to the bathroom all day. But really, I'm just procrastinating. I don't know how to start, how to help her understand what she's supposed to do, how to explain. I'm worried the newness will wear off quickly and then she will begin to protest spending 10-15 minutes sitting and looking at books, no matter how fun I try to make it. I'm sure she'll be trained by the time she's ready for college. But no promises.
**********
PS: Has it been nearly two months since I wrote even a "Hello" on here?? How can that be? I just needed a break, it seems. I had absolutely no desire, no guilt over not posting. But now? I miss you all. XOXO
Friday, May 28, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Dirty Toes and Paint On My Elbows
Well, hello, blogland. How are ya? Sorry I’ve been MIA lately. Where have I been? Well, I’ve NOT been getting pregnant, for one. So, I’ve been using all that pent up energy that otherwise would have been spent obsessing over every pregnancy nuance to generally spruce up my home – inside and out.
You know about my kitchen. I’m still in love with all the white, though I practically live with a Magic Eraser in my hand, watching for any little mark or scuff on my pristine cabinetry. This weekend I completed a project that has been bugging me for…oh, about 3 years. We have one “accent wall” in the living room that is painted a lovely red. I painted it shortly after we bought the house. And shortly after that spots on the wall got scratched and nicked through to the white wall underneath. I got out my leftover paint and attempted to patch the damage, but somehow the paint had turned and the color was not the same. So ever since I have had these ugly patches of darker red on my beautiful red wall. Not attractive. So I finally bought a new gallon of the red and painted over the whole wall. Took me less than two hours. We’ll file that one under “Should have done this years ago…”
Another project that has been on my (so very long) list for years is our bathroom. Originally, the bathroom was the best room in the house…meaning the most recently re-done. It’s an ugly green, even the CEILING (ugh), but the fixtures are fairly new and compared to all the other rooms when we moved in, not a priority. Well I’ve finally made it through all the other rooms with my paintbrush (except the dining room, which we shall not talk about lest I get depressed) so it’s finally on to the bathroom to vanquish the ugly mint green and replace it with a deep, stately pine green. All the trim work will get a fresh coat of white paint and I’ll probably spring for new towels and shower curtain. Ah. I’m relaxing just thinking about it.
I’ve also been busy outside the house during these lovely, sunny days we’ve had. I’ve been freshening up the mulch in the front of the house and extending it around to the side bushes. (This is where the dirty toes comes in.) What a difference a few bags of mulch make! And cheap! My kind of home improvement. Yesterday we purchased a beautiful yellow forsythia bush (and one ladybug, as G pointed out) which I planted myself in the back yard (read, dug a big a** hole all by myself, go me.) I also filled in some random gopher holes in the yard. Next up, the annual spreading of the grass seed to try to repair the damage done by one dog and his urine. (Umm, gross, but this is my reality.)
Family has been consuming my time, too. Last week John and I made the trek to Manhattan for the day to see a couple of doctors and have a nice Indian lunch at this cute little place we found a few months ago on 1st and 74th. It was a beautiful, sunny day and traffic was incredibly light, even when we left the city at 4pm, so we drove with the windows down and the iTunes up. Not a bad day.
Giuliana has been spending most of her days outside. She’s following mommy’s lead and digging holes in the yard, but I’m trying to just be cool with it. She’ll only be little once, why not let her do her thing? Yesterday mommy and daddy took turns pushing her up and down the sidewalk on her new red trike, streamers flying in the breeze, giggles echoing down the street. Quintessential Suburban Americana and I love it. She’s been continuing with her tumbling class. Every week has been better than the last. She still has (many) “I do it myself” moments, but overall is listening much better. She has even taken part in the warm-up stretches, and this week she barely even glanced at the trampoline while she touched her toes and reached the sky. This is major progress.
So, that’s what I’ve been up to. I’ll try to catch up on my reader to see what YOU’VE been up too, because if I don’t my reader is likely to explode soon.
You know about my kitchen. I’m still in love with all the white, though I practically live with a Magic Eraser in my hand, watching for any little mark or scuff on my pristine cabinetry. This weekend I completed a project that has been bugging me for…oh, about 3 years. We have one “accent wall” in the living room that is painted a lovely red. I painted it shortly after we bought the house. And shortly after that spots on the wall got scratched and nicked through to the white wall underneath. I got out my leftover paint and attempted to patch the damage, but somehow the paint had turned and the color was not the same. So ever since I have had these ugly patches of darker red on my beautiful red wall. Not attractive. So I finally bought a new gallon of the red and painted over the whole wall. Took me less than two hours. We’ll file that one under “Should have done this years ago…”
Another project that has been on my (so very long) list for years is our bathroom. Originally, the bathroom was the best room in the house…meaning the most recently re-done. It’s an ugly green, even the CEILING (ugh), but the fixtures are fairly new and compared to all the other rooms when we moved in, not a priority. Well I’ve finally made it through all the other rooms with my paintbrush (except the dining room, which we shall not talk about lest I get depressed) so it’s finally on to the bathroom to vanquish the ugly mint green and replace it with a deep, stately pine green. All the trim work will get a fresh coat of white paint and I’ll probably spring for new towels and shower curtain. Ah. I’m relaxing just thinking about it.
I’ve also been busy outside the house during these lovely, sunny days we’ve had. I’ve been freshening up the mulch in the front of the house and extending it around to the side bushes. (This is where the dirty toes comes in.) What a difference a few bags of mulch make! And cheap! My kind of home improvement. Yesterday we purchased a beautiful yellow forsythia bush (and one ladybug, as G pointed out) which I planted myself in the back yard (read, dug a big a** hole all by myself, go me.) I also filled in some random gopher holes in the yard. Next up, the annual spreading of the grass seed to try to repair the damage done by one dog and his urine. (Umm, gross, but this is my reality.)
Family has been consuming my time, too. Last week John and I made the trek to Manhattan for the day to see a couple of doctors and have a nice Indian lunch at this cute little place we found a few months ago on 1st and 74th. It was a beautiful, sunny day and traffic was incredibly light, even when we left the city at 4pm, so we drove with the windows down and the iTunes up. Not a bad day.
Giuliana has been spending most of her days outside. She’s following mommy’s lead and digging holes in the yard, but I’m trying to just be cool with it. She’ll only be little once, why not let her do her thing? Yesterday mommy and daddy took turns pushing her up and down the sidewalk on her new red trike, streamers flying in the breeze, giggles echoing down the street. Quintessential Suburban Americana and I love it. She’s been continuing with her tumbling class. Every week has been better than the last. She still has (many) “I do it myself” moments, but overall is listening much better. She has even taken part in the warm-up stretches, and this week she barely even glanced at the trampoline while she touched her toes and reached the sky. This is major progress.
So, that’s what I’ve been up to. I’ll try to catch up on my reader to see what YOU’VE been up too, because if I don’t my reader is likely to explode soon.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
A Tale of a Kitchen Facelift: Done!
Well, it was a lot of work, but it's finally done. I took three days vacation from work to pound it out because I knew I couldn't handle living with my kitchen in shambles while I tried to sneak in a weekend here and there. I still wouldn't have been able to finish it if it weren't for my makeover partner--my mom. She's always up for a good project...she's been remodeling her house for 30 years, And I think she was just itching to get in my kitchen and "do something" with it. Thanks, Mom! You're awesome :)
Some of the progress along the way:
The gross cabinets, Before. (I can't believe I'm posting this!)
And After shelf papering and cleaning and organizing. Paint still to come.
The newly "brushed nickel" knobs.
The newly black range hood, two coats down. It took a third.
And a few shots of my constant "helper," who wanted her picture taken every time the camera came out to document the progress.
Re-claiming her step stool, which I "borrowed." It's usually reserved for G's hand washing. She kept climbing up with me. Possessive?
In her smock so she can help paint!
This chick is sooooo excited with the white kitchen. She keeps running into the room and saying "Surprise! It's white!" or "Not brown anymore, it's white now."
And now, the After:
Ahh. I like it.
Some of the progress along the way:
The gross cabinets, Before. (I can't believe I'm posting this!)
And After shelf papering and cleaning and organizing. Paint still to come.
The newly "brushed nickel" knobs.
The newly black range hood, two coats down. It took a third.
And a few shots of my constant "helper," who wanted her picture taken every time the camera came out to document the progress.
Re-claiming her step stool, which I "borrowed." It's usually reserved for G's hand washing. She kept climbing up with me. Possessive?
In her smock so she can help paint!
This chick is sooooo excited with the white kitchen. She keeps running into the room and saying "Surprise! It's white!" or "Not brown anymore, it's white now."And now, the After:
Ahh. I like it.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
A Tale Of A Kitchen Facelift
I've hated my kitchen since the day we moved in. Ok. I've hated it since we first walked through the house before we bought it. We've always had the intention to rip the entire thing out and replace the cabinets, floors, counters...the works! But...yeah. That's not cheap. So, someday. Until then, I just couldn't take the ugly cabinets and hardware another day. So, though it won't fix the falling apart drawers or the hideous yellow counters, I've decided to paint. Oh, boy. This should be fun.
Here's the before. The walls are staying green. The counters and floors, unfortunately, are staying yellow. The brick...it's fate hasn't been decided yet. It may end up white. We'll see. The cabinets and those blue doors will be white. The range hood gets a coat of black paint. I'm even ripping out the old shelf paper!
A close up of the ugly, so ugly, hardware. Luckily that back plate comes off. So, it will go and the knobs will get sprayed with brushed nickel paint and, hopefully, they will match our light fixture, which is staying. And all that grime around the knobs will disappear under nice white paint.
Wish me luck!! After shots are just around the corner.
Here's the before. The walls are staying green. The counters and floors, unfortunately, are staying yellow. The brick...it's fate hasn't been decided yet. It may end up white. We'll see. The cabinets and those blue doors will be white. The range hood gets a coat of black paint. I'm even ripping out the old shelf paper!
A close up of the ugly, so ugly, hardware. Luckily that back plate comes off. So, it will go and the knobs will get sprayed with brushed nickel paint and, hopefully, they will match our light fixture, which is staying. And all that grime around the knobs will disappear under nice white paint.Wish me luck!! After shots are just around the corner.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Aspects of Her Emerging Personality
This little girl here, even smeared in spaghetti sauce and chocolate pudding, is my heart. She is the largest part of my soul embodied, walking around outside of my body. I would give my life for her, in a heartbeat. She is my future.
But day by day she is becoming, or perhaps I'm just realizing, her very own person. She is NOT a part of me, not really. She is a separate and unique being. She makes decisions without me. She goes places I don't go. She has thoughts and reactions I don't like. She is Giuliana, her very own.
Oh, she has so many wonderful qualities. She's so brilliant. Very funny and silly. Adorable in every way. She is loving and affectionate. She's creative. I don't want you to get the idea I'm not aware of all of these things. I truly am. And I love her more than I ever would have believed possible. But this girl, she has me at a loss...already. I'm honestly a bit nervous for her teenage years. She's becoming quite a handful.
She's two, and I know that. I'm sure that a lot of what I'm seeing these days can be attributed to that fact. I've read about sweet little babies morphing into wild aliens on their second birthday. I guess I just didn't think it would happen to me.
But more than that, I feel like I'm discovering certain aspects of her personality that trouble me. I fear for her a little bit. It seems she has an independent streak a mile long. She wants to do EVERYTHING herself. She does not want anyone to come near her while she tries to do whatever it is, and, tonight, she didn't even want us to look at her. She does not handle instruction AT ALL. I mean it, at. all. You can't show this girl anything. She expects that she knows how to do it and can and will do it herself, even if she's never even seen the thing done before.
Exhibit A: Tumbling Class. If you follow me on Facebook you know I recently signed Giuliana and I up for a Mommy and Me toddler tumbling class. We began on Saturday. Now, the major reason I decided to enroll us in this class was not for the exercise, not from some desire for G to become a gold-medal gymnast, not even so much for the opportunity to be around other kids (though that was definitely a factor.) My motivation was largely to get this kid in some sort of mildly structured environment so she begins to develop an understanding of how to listen, how to behave when someone is teaching her how to do something. I've also recently begun investigating preschool options and I had a revelation the other day. Holy Crap. If I don't start now with helping her learn how to behave in a class setting, she's going to shove a glue stick up the nose of the first teacher who tries to help her make a collage.
So, tumbling class. It went predictably. Giuliana was bouncing on her trampoline when it was time to leave the house. I'd prepped her all morning, but of course she didn't want to stop bouncing and go the gym. Cue screaming and crying. Ok, I get her in the car, I talk up how much fun we're going to have. She calms down. We arrive. She's shy and nervous at first. But then we enter the gymnasium and she eyeballs all the fun equipment.
"I do! I do it! I do the tunnel!!" She skips asking, heads straight for whining. It went downhill from there. We attempted to sit in a circle with the other kids and their parents and the instructor and do some easy stretches. She wanted nothing to do with it. She would NOT let anyone show her how to do a somersault. She refused to allow anyone to teach her how to hang on the bar. She didn't want to do the obstacle course, she only wanted to climb through the tunnel. And she was whining and stomping her little feet the whole time to a chorus of "I do it, I do it!!"
The part that breaks my heart a little bit is that the few times I coaxed her into listening and she actually tried something she was so proud of herself. She bent down and touched her toes with all the other kids and her face just lit up. She jumped and smiled and beamed pride. But she wouldn't repeat it. It wasn't her agenda.
The other part that breaks my heart? When she can't do something. She seems to think and expect that she knows how to do everything. All by herself. No help required. But, well, she's two. So obviously she can't. And she is so easily disappointed in herself. She bursts into tears, the whining dissolves to wailing, "I can't do it, Mommy. I can't do it. I never ever do it. I sorry I can't do it." She's so very hard on herself.
These are the personality traits I fear. Yes I know that it's typical for little kids to want to do things themselves, to be stubborn and never want to do anything according to Mommy's plan. But this insane NEED to be completely independent, this over-the-top expectation of herself scares me. I worry she's going to have a rough time of it. And I have absolutely no idea how to help her. I've tried giving her a wide berth, lots of time to try to do things herself before I ultimately have to help her. I've tried setting a short time limit and letting her know I'm going to help her after a certain amount of time. I've tried the 1, 2, 3 trick. I've gotten stern when the tantrum gets out of hand. None of it has made a bit of difference. She decides she wants to do something and she starts yelling and whining about doing it herself, before anyone has said a word contradicting her. She dissolves into a stomping, tantruming mess and doesn't even try to do whatever it is she wants to do, she just argues. Even when no one is arguing. Sometimes I can say "Go ahead, you can do it" enough times that she actually tries/does it. But often she just keeps it up and I end up having to step in. And of course that never ends well.
I just don't know what to do next. I feel like I'm missing a puzzle piece. There's something here I'm not getting. If I could only figure it out I could make things so much easier for her. So, friends, I'm asking for your advice. How do I help little G help herself? How do I structure her day/my requests so she can be successful and feel good about herself? Help!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
The Pout Has Begun
The other day Giuliana threw her first, honest-to-goodness pout. Oh, she's whined and stomped and thrown a few (thousand) super-loud fits in her day. But this? Was a for real P-O-U-T.
One of my birthday gifts from John was a little steel drum. I love it! So does G. I let her play it most of the time when she asks, but we have firmly explained to her that it is MOMMY'S drum and she must ask if she wants to play.
So this time, she asked and I let her play for a little bit. Then I asked if we could share the drum.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I do it myself!"
Insert parental discussion on sharing here. Next thing I knew, she gently placed the drumsticks on the table (at least she knows better than to throw them) and then ran into the other room. I peak in there, and there she is, chin to her chest, arms crossed around her middle.
"Hrmph. It's not fair. Not fair. I don't wanna share."
I had to duck my head back around the corner before I cracked up. I could hear her continue with her pouty little rant.
"Giuliana play Mommy's drum. Not fair. I play. I not gonna share."
I picked up the drumsticks and began playing the drum. She came running out to see, then turned around and headed back into the other room. Again with the chin to chest "not fair" drama. But a minute or two later, with me pounding away on the drum and bellowing, "Gee, I wish I could share this drum with someone. That would be waaaaay more fun" she came around.
Oh geez. I'm so glad I have a little girl. I really am. But the drama! We are so in for it.
One of my birthday gifts from John was a little steel drum. I love it! So does G. I let her play it most of the time when she asks, but we have firmly explained to her that it is MOMMY'S drum and she must ask if she wants to play.
So this time, she asked and I let her play for a little bit. Then I asked if we could share the drum.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I do it myself!"
Insert parental discussion on sharing here. Next thing I knew, she gently placed the drumsticks on the table (at least she knows better than to throw them) and then ran into the other room. I peak in there, and there she is, chin to her chest, arms crossed around her middle.
"Hrmph. It's not fair. Not fair. I don't wanna share."
I had to duck my head back around the corner before I cracked up. I could hear her continue with her pouty little rant.
"Giuliana play Mommy's drum. Not fair. I play. I not gonna share."
I picked up the drumsticks and began playing the drum. She came running out to see, then turned around and headed back into the other room. Again with the chin to chest "not fair" drama. But a minute or two later, with me pounding away on the drum and bellowing, "Gee, I wish I could share this drum with someone. That would be waaaaay more fun" she came around.
Oh geez. I'm so glad I have a little girl. I really am. But the drama! We are so in for it.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
How To Break A Mother's Heart (Toddler Version)
I know I'm not the only parent to resort to The Stern Voice from time to time. Like when your child is being especially exasperating. Yeah. I know I'm not alone.
Here's the scene: Giuliana is fresh from her bath. For some reason this is a particularly touchy time for her. Probably being cold and wet doesn't help the situation. But for whatever reason, she gets really cranky about having lotion put on. She wants it on, and she wants to do her tummy by herself. This gets no argument from me. I'm flexible, she can do her tummy-no problem. But she gets in one of her moods. Oh, I dread and hate this mood. Nothing makes her happy. She has decided she wants to do something herself and no amount of "Go ahead" or "It's OK, you can do it" or "Giuliana, I'm not arguing with you, stop yelling at me, go ahead and do it yourself" pleases her. For whatever reason, she is expecting an argument and she's ready for it with a good, loud whine and cry session. So, even though I give her the lotion and encourage her to rub her tummy and tell her what a good job she's doing, she's wailing through the whole thing.
And I snap. I break out The Stern Voice. I look her right in the eye and say (rather loudly) "GIULIANA. Stop yelling." Well. Has anyone ever known that to actually work? Because it sure doesn't work with my kid. I have know idea why I resort to it. Some maternal gene-pattern, no doubt. Anyway, she just cries and whines louder. And I figure it's still all about the non-existent argument over the lotion/tummy issue.
Then she starts repeating, over and over, "It's not fair, Mommy. Not fair. 'Giuliana.' It's not fair. I crying. No, 'Giuliana,' Mommy."
At first I don't get it. What's not fair? Finally, after she repeats it about a dozen times it dawns on me. I ask her, "Do you mean it's not fair that Mommy yelled at you and said, 'Giuliana' when you were crying?"
"Yeah. I sad."
Stab me in the heart! I hurt her feelings. For real. Not just 'cause I wouldn't give her a lollipop before dinner or let her climb up into her car seat by herself because we were running late. I hurt her feelings because I yelled at her when she was crying.
I apologized a few thousand times and told her that I loved her very much and I was sorry for hurting her feelings. She told me "It's o-tay, Mommy" and gave me a hug and we're all cool now. But, man! That one? That was rough. I know I'll stop and think before giving into my frustration the next time.
Here's the scene: Giuliana is fresh from her bath. For some reason this is a particularly touchy time for her. Probably being cold and wet doesn't help the situation. But for whatever reason, she gets really cranky about having lotion put on. She wants it on, and she wants to do her tummy by herself. This gets no argument from me. I'm flexible, she can do her tummy-no problem. But she gets in one of her moods. Oh, I dread and hate this mood. Nothing makes her happy. She has decided she wants to do something herself and no amount of "Go ahead" or "It's OK, you can do it" or "Giuliana, I'm not arguing with you, stop yelling at me, go ahead and do it yourself" pleases her. For whatever reason, she is expecting an argument and she's ready for it with a good, loud whine and cry session. So, even though I give her the lotion and encourage her to rub her tummy and tell her what a good job she's doing, she's wailing through the whole thing.
And I snap. I break out The Stern Voice. I look her right in the eye and say (rather loudly) "GIULIANA. Stop yelling." Well. Has anyone ever known that to actually work? Because it sure doesn't work with my kid. I have know idea why I resort to it. Some maternal gene-pattern, no doubt. Anyway, she just cries and whines louder. And I figure it's still all about the non-existent argument over the lotion/tummy issue.
Then she starts repeating, over and over, "It's not fair, Mommy. Not fair. 'Giuliana.' It's not fair. I crying. No, 'Giuliana,' Mommy."
At first I don't get it. What's not fair? Finally, after she repeats it about a dozen times it dawns on me. I ask her, "Do you mean it's not fair that Mommy yelled at you and said, 'Giuliana' when you were crying?"
"Yeah. I sad."
Stab me in the heart! I hurt her feelings. For real. Not just 'cause I wouldn't give her a lollipop before dinner or let her climb up into her car seat by herself because we were running late. I hurt her feelings because I yelled at her when she was crying.
I apologized a few thousand times and told her that I loved her very much and I was sorry for hurting her feelings. She told me "It's o-tay, Mommy" and gave me a hug and we're all cool now. But, man! That one? That was rough. I know I'll stop and think before giving into my frustration the next time.
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