Biking Battles

No, do. Or do not. There is no try.
--Yoda

Unless you’re a five year old, then there is most certainly try. Kirk was grounded all weekend. Grounded from television and movies, grounded from video games, grounded from Star Wars. And he lost his blankie. His infraction? Refusal to try.

We bought Kirk a new big boy bike with training wheels for his 5th birthday. He was so excited about it; he rode it all over the store as we secretly picked out other presents and passed them back and forth behind his back. We brought it home and he rode it all over the neighborhood with his daddy and around the block on a walk with his mama and sister. And then he stopped. For some reason he got scared of it and we can’t figure it out. “I don’t know how.” So we told him he had to ride it every single night so he could learn and practice. But even then he’d freak out. “I can’t.” Both of us lost our tempers on several occasions.

I decided to try getting him used to the bike slowly. We explored how it rocks between the training wheels and how that lessens when he sits on it and his weight lowers them. We explored how the front and back brakes grab the front and back wheels. We explored how far you can turn the handle bars to the right and the left and how it will make the bike tip over if you go too far. We even explored standing on the front pegs while I anchored the bike. Kirk will sit on it and cheerfully put his feet on the pedals. But actually pedal the bike? “I can’t.” And then he said, “I quit.”

Mr. b realized that there must be something else going on and did a little bit of online child psychology research. Apparently there are several reasons why a child might refuse to try and the one that seems to make the most sense with Kirk is perfectionism. He’s good at riding his trike. He’s not an expert at riding his bike and doesn’t know all the ins and outs of it yet. So we put too much pressure on him and made it worse, which just sucks and makes us both feel horrible. But we also can’t let him win and had to figure out a way for him to earn back his privileges without making him ride the damn bike. So he had to try new food.

Trying new foods has always been a battle with Kirk. ALWAYS. It’s ridiculous how often we fight over him eating, or rather not eating. But this time it’s like he knew that this was the best compromise for all parties. Sunday supper, he ate a half a hamburger for the first time ever and had an entire ear of corn. And got his blankie and TV and video games and Star Wars back.

Now, thinking back on it, we’ve had this same issue with bikes before. When Kirk switched from the little sit-down scooter thingie to the Thomas big wheel, he was extremely reticent to learn how to pedal. I remember being so frustrated as he scooted with his feet instead of pedaling. And then when he switched from the big wheel to the tricycle it was the same thing. He was so good at the low to the ground pedaling and suddenly being upright on a trike was a major change. He liked the concept of the trike but was hesitant and rarely used it. Which drove me nuts. So I guess this isn’t new behavior. I just need to remember it for when the time comes to take the training wheels off. Hooboy that’s going to be tough.

C is for Cooperation

Kirk spent nearly all of Saturday in time out. He had a dentist appointment Saturday morning and wanted his daddy to take him. Fine by me, I got to sleep in longer and not get dressed. But while I was chilling with Ronnie, they got home much earlier than I expected. Kirk was so naughty and uncooperative that ultimately the hygienist was unable to do anything. Mr. b was pissed and frog-marched the man into his bedroom for an all-day grounding.

Now, we happened to be quite busy that afternoon so Kirk got let out for stuff like going to book club with Mama, but he knew he was in Big Trouble. We decided that this behavior needs to be treated as a symptom of him getting away with baby stuff that we just haven’t bothered to fight yet. So since he is now big enough to have appointments – doctor, optometrist, dentist – he has to act like he’s a Big Boy. And Big Boys don’t use sippy cups. Yep, we finally got rid of the damn sippies.

Kirk was pretty distraught when he heard the announcement his precious sippy cups were going away. He tried arguing but knew he wasn’t going to get away with jack shit this time round. In fact, by the time lunch was over he had turned it around and was excited to participate in the tossing of the hateful plastic bastards into the recycling bin. And he’s been proudly requesting his drinks “in a Big Boy Cup” all weekend, as though he had any other choice.

One nice side-effect of this all was good behavior in church yesterday. He sat quietly until the children were dismissed, and drew and didn’t make noise or screw around, even as his best friend was decidedly not behaving himself sitting next to him on the pew. And during the social hour after service, his Sunday school teacher came up to me and told me about how well behaved Kirk was and what a great sense of humor he has. The lesson she was teaching? Cooperation. HA!!

I’m not sure how long we can milk this. Kirk knows his blue blankie is the next on the line. For now though, I’m enjoying having so much space in the cupboard, now that the sippies are gone!

Flotsam and Jetsam

Kirk’s taken to making proclamations of “I’m gonna buy you something” to both me and his father. The items he’s going to purchase vary from the simple to the extravagant. It’s very sweet. He totally doesn’t understand money yet. Heh.

Veronica has all but broken the television remote. Every time it’s left in her reach she has chewed it to the point where the buttons simply don’t work anymore. One evening earlier this week she managed to chew it into a feedback loop of scanning for channels!

Kirk is becoming quite the master builder. He loves regular sized Legos the most, though he’ll also use Duplos or bristle blocks or anything else handy. He has created everything from pirate ships to Lightning McQueen to the Incredible Hulk. It’s fabulous to watch his creativity in such a concrete manner.

Ronnie still won’t take steps unless you trick her. If her destination is at standing height then she might step once or twice but usually she’ll just speed-crawl over. The strange thing, however, is that she is now nearly perfectly balanced (relative to a baby learning to walk) and will spend most of her time standing once she’s reached her new location.

I’ve been going through my wardrobe and culling items. I discovered I had a box of goal weight clothes I set aside before Kirk was born. Some of them fit! Our scale has been broken since the clogged toilet disaster so that was an exciting discovery. I’ve also stopped wearing nursing bras exclusively. Boy, I need new bras.

In the ongoing attempt to make sure Kirk has good manners, I’ve been trying to impress upon him the difference between an empty “I’m sorry” to get out of trouble and a truly meaningful apology. I haven’t decided yet if we’re making any progress.

On the topic of manners, what about chivalry? I’m not sure at what point, or even if, I should start with the holding the door for a lady, letting a lady go first, that sort of thing. Respect Your Elders probably needs to come next anyway. We’re still working on Wait Your Turn If Someone Else Is Speaking.

Bundle takes showers with me now. I gave up even trying to keep her out. She loves hanging out and splashing when her brother or her dad is in the bathtub and if I’m in the shower she will lean over the edge to try to play with the water spray. She is just about tall enough to climb in. Rather than fight it, I now let her hang out below me, cheerfully splashing shampoo bubbles and sliding around in the tub.

Food Fight

Kirk fights with us over trying new foods. It’s gotten to be quite brutal. He didn’t start out as a picky eater and I’m really not sure how it even happened. We have spaghetti once a week because it’s cheap and easy, yes, but also because we know he will eat it. We always have fish sticks in the house and have had many meals of frozen fish filets along side his breaded minced fish sticks. I won’t cook him his own separate meal but I also don’t want him to starve.

We’ve tried so many different methods to get him to just try things. Mr. b is right that we don’t want to make eating an unpleasant experience so I especially have to keep my temper in check and make sure I’m not punishing him unduly. But it’s also gotten to the point where Kirk has requested time out in his room in lieu of trying the one bite we’re requiring. And that is not going to fly.

Typically we’ll insist on One Single Bite of whatever the new food item is, and then he can have a peanut butter sandwich or something else. Occasionally Kirk will find that he actually likes it and then eat a normal dinner with us. Usually, however, there are tears and screams and yelling and threats and he’ll get his blanket or other precious item put on top of the refrigerator and I’ll end up throwing up my hands before I get physical and then Mr. b leaves for class and I’m stuck with a child in revolt. I’ve attempted a new rule: you don’t want to try that new thing? Fine. But you have to try *some other* new thing of your choice. So far that’s worked a grand total of One Time.

I know that it can take kids up to 10 tries before they develop a taste for something new to their palates. I know that just providing the options and eating by example are all supposed to be the “correct” action. But frankly, I don’t see it working. I guess we’ll move on to the smother-it-in-ketchup option next. I don’t really know what else to try. I do know that fighting with Kirk about his eating habits brings out the absolute worst in me and I hate that. I hate that I have such violence inside me and I hate that it’s my own child that activates it.

Science!

Last night Kirk stepped on his sister. On her chest. The thing is, he wasn’t being malicious. But it also wasn’t an accident. He was experimenting. I was in the kitchen and I heard Bundle scream out in pain. When I turned around I saw him bent down and giving her kisses. It took a second to register that he had done something before I started in with the accusations. “What did you do to her?!”

When he admitted he stepped on her I had to ask where and he rubbed her chest. So then I had to check to make sure everything felt OK before I picked her up to comfort her. I asked if it was an accident and I could see the wheels turning before he answered no. Yeah right. If it had been a foot or hand I could buy accident. Hell, even arm or leg. But not chest.

After Mr. b got home from school I found out that Kirk had been testing the waters earlier. He had apparently been lightly resting his foot on her, removing it quickly when his father saw what he was doing. So clearly it had been on his mind for a while. That helps explain why he didn’t seem very remorseful. But he knew he was in trouble and he brushed his teeth extra good last night as a peace offering.

This is only the beginning of the sibling fun.

Child Garden

Friday morning we took Kirk in for his Kindergarten pre-screening testing. It's required by the state of Minnesota for all children attending public schools. There were three parts to the screening: mental development, physical development, and bureaucracy.

We had a lot of paperwork to fill out, some of it immediately identified by Mr. b as remnants of the "progressive" programs instituted by New Dealers. Then we all went in to meet with the first of three ladies. She had Kirk build small towers of blocks, do some counting, pick the correct opposites, match shapes, do simple drawing, things like that. As a parent it was incredibly difficult to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to nudge him in the right direction, give him hints, or simply laugh at his hilarious attempts or failures. There were several instances where he got something wrong that he knows perfectly well how to do. But I suppose having the patience to go through this process is part of the whole "readiness" idea.

Next we went to get his eyes checked. That seemed silly to me since obviously Kirk wears glasses. He wasn't interested in their old school vision chart and the lack of friendliness on the part of the woman administering this portion of the exam certainly didn't help. We gave up on that and tried to do the hearing test. But she accidentally stepped on Kirk's foot and he cried and cried and cried and we gave up on that, too. I have two forms for medical professionals to fill out now. He's got his eye check-up next week but the hearing one will have to wait for his next physical in July. I remember doing all these tests in elementary school and really enjoying the hearing one especially. Mr. b says he remembers them, too.

Lastly we met with a lady to review all the results. Kirk's age bracket, 3.8-3.9 years, needed to score an 18 out of 48 on the mental stuff. He got a 32. So no worries there. Basically, everything is on track and there are no areas of concern. We found out which elementary school he'll attend - and that he'll ride the bus - and that's about it. It was an interesting process and definitely a milestone. It's hard to believe I'll have a "school aged" child soon but he'll start Kindergarten next year!

The Boob Barnacle

I'm kind of perplexed by breast feeding. The actual nursing seems to be going fine. Veronica gained another two and a half ounces as of her Monday check-up. We'll have one more weight check next Monday and then we should be able to get on the normal well baby visits schedule.

My boobs are definitely heavy with milk. I haven't had any kind of painful engorgement to deal with, thankfully, but there's certainly no shortage of boobie juice for the girl. And yet I can't get anything from pumping. It's very frustrating. My sister loaned me her pump and it seems to be a good one and yet I'm only getting about an ounce of milk. Per day. Both boobs combined. I tried using the manual pump yesterday and it was the same results. I had a rental hospital pump with Kirk and that thing worked great. And I don't remember it making my nipples so sore afterwards either. I'm going to have to figure something out by the time I go back to work or else I'll be forced to wean just by dint of having my supply dry up.

Mr. b tried bottle feeding Ronnie for the first time Tuesday night. I thought it seemed like a good idea until he was actually doing it. I was appalled at how pathetic the fridge supply of milk was after all the pumping I had done. I was horrified at how quickly it was gone. And I felt utterly useless. My sole purpose has been to feed this child and I felt like my only job had been taken away from me. I sulked in the bedroom all night.

I'm certainly not afraid of formula. But with Kirk he was on both breast and bottle, both milk and formula from literal day one. So I never had the mental paradigm shift to handle. That's just how things were. Mr. b and I split the nights into shifts and took turns. He also had a different job then which allowed him to often be home during the day on occasion. So it felt like more of a team effort. Now it feels like it's just me. Which is both stressful and also great. Kirk hasn't wanted his mama for months now so at least this gives me something to do. But it's also wreaking havoc with the crazy post-partum hormone emotion roller coaster.

Sleep, Eat, Poop

The biggest difference between Ronnie and Kirk so far is that she's nursing. Kirk was nearly a pound smaller and just didn't have the sucking reflex down at all. Plus since he was in the Level II nursery for a week I never got a chance to really spend time figuring it out with him. It was all about measurable amounts of fluid, breast milk or formula, to get him to gain weight. So it was kind of weird to have Ronnie in the hospital room with me and to be released before the full 48 hours were even up.

However, she's still small so jaundice is a very real issue. She's definitely yellowish in her face and halfway down her chest. Her extremities remain pink. But she's eating well and has been pooping the real breast fed baby poop instead of just the newborn meconium so the bilirubin is definitely being expunged. Just not as fast as we might like.

The homecare nurse came to check us out on Wednesday and found that Ronnie had dropped down to 5 pounds 8 ounces. She was down to 5lb 11oz when we left the hospital, and a weight drop is completely normal, but this was only 1 ounce off from the 10% birth weight benchmark. So the nurse suggested we bump up our first well baby visit to Thursday instead of next week. Ronnie was back up to 5lb 10oz at the clinic but who knows if that's because she had just eaten and she was totally hungry the day before. Either way, her weight is looking good and she's already grown a half inch in height. The doc wanted to have her blood checked though and get a bilirubin count. Since she was on the edge of intermediate and high levels, we took her in again this morning for the same blood work. This time it dropped, only very slightly, but at least it didn't go up. Jaundice apparently peaks on day 4 or 5 after birth so again, that all lines up. Doc decided that she should be fine over the weekend and doesn't need to have any UV treatment. At least it would have been an at-home option (they have some kind of a psychedelic light blanket now) so it's not like we would have had to take her in or anything. He'll check her out again on Monday.

Basically the weekend plan is lots of boobie milk and laying in patches of sunshine whenever possible. Nursing is very sweet but man alive do my nipples take a beating. Ronnie hasn't settled into any kind of feeding pattern yet so it's pretty much every 2 hours no matter what. She's gone as long as 4 hours between sessions but then she's also had at least one cluster feeding every day where she wants to eat about every 30 minutes for a good 2 to 3 hours. Those seem to be happening in the middle of the night so I need to start going to bed earlier just to combat that insanity. We'll figure it out. Strangely, all the trouble I had with Kirk is benefitting me now. I already knew about various techniques for latching her on, breaking the seal, getting her to swallow, and on and on. Only this time I can put that knowledge to use. I'll start pumping next week and then Mr. b can take some of the feedings. He's been awesome, changing all the diapers and doing nearly all of the Kirk care. But I know he wishes he could do more.

36 Weeks 5 Days

As of today I am officially more pregnant than I've ever been before. This is all new territory from here.

Generations

Last week my grandma had a heart attack. When we first learned about it, things sounded dire. Like, time to make your travel arrangements and get bereavement leave set up at work. Partly that was because of the unknown. It wasn’t sure at that point if it had been a stroke instead. All we knew is that she had been found collapsed in the bathroom and had a severely bruised face because of her fall.

This Saturday my sister and I made the 3 and a half hour drive to go visit her. Grandma was out of the ICU by then. She’s in a transitional facility for another week or two while they evaluate her “life skills” and determine what level of care she’ll need. Despite the fact that she was in a great mood and totally has her sense of humor intact, her short term memory loss is undeniable. She will likely not be able to return to the senior apartment where she has lived independently since selling her house a few years ago.

All of this influx of emotions really made me think about how to explain mortality to Kirk. I can remember attending Grandma’s sister’s funeral when I was a little kid. This woman pretty much raised Grandma, who was the youngest of 11 and who lost her mother at the age of 3. I knew this great aunt was important to her and to my mom but I didn’t really have any memories of my own about her. So the funeral was just a fun event in a small town, at a little country church, with lots of random kids running around in the graveyard, not really paying attention to the grieving adults telling stories. Similarly, when Mr. b lost his one remaining grandmother a few years back, our niece, who was about 3 at the time, was having a blast, singing and dancing and being the center of attention.

It’s hard to answer questions like “Why did she get hurt on the inside?” without being a smart ass. But honestly, for a 90 year old woman, what other answer is there besides, “Sometimes that happens when you get old”? I don’t want to scare the boy but it’s the truth. Apparently Kirk told his daddy the other day that while he wants to grow up and get bigger, he doesn’t want to get old. He wants to be a daddy but he doesn’t want to be a grandpa. And maybe it’s just too far off in the future to imagine but maybe it’s because of recent events and topics of conversation.

Regardless, I’m glad that it looks like Kirk will not be attending his first funeral in the upcoming months. Sure, it’s unlikely that Grandma has another decade. But it’s also unlikely that this is the last time I’ll have gotten to see her. She’ll be able to meet her newest great-grandchild even if she won’t be around long enough for the little girl to have even a vague memory of her. Maybe she’ll even be able to receive a flood of visitors during next summer’s family reunion. And I’ll have a little more time to come up with an explanation for Kirk about why we die.

So Emotional, Baby

Kirk has been highly emotional of late. He’s going through some definite fine-tuning development or something. It’s both fascinating to watch and extremely frustrating. He’s having a lot of difficulty with his father leaving. Mr. b is in school and has class 3 nights a week plus band obligations so obviously leaving is a common occurrence. Kirk really freaks out and literally refuses to let him go. However, if his daddy is already gone then it’s no big deal to not have him there. So if Mr. b is already at work by the time we get up in the morning then it’s just funny, “My daddy took the bus when it was still nigh-nighs? That’s so weird! My daddy is a weirdo.”

He’s becoming desperately possessive of his current precious toys. This morning we wouldn’t let him bring his sonic screwdriver (Star Wars and Indy 4 light-up cereal spoons) to daycare. He’s already lost 3 of the 4 we had and we just wanted to keep this last one safe. But he freaked out and threw a major fit, hitting his dad repeatedly and screaming the whole way. Of course then he was remorseful and didn’t want us to leave for work once we got there.

Kirk is also becoming chickenshit. He psyches himself out of situations that he’s never had a problem with before. The last time we were at the fancy indoor playground he got himself stuck at the top like a cat in a tree. He had to have some kind pre-teen help him down. We went to Burger King last week and Kirk refused to climb in the playland area at all, even with his dad going in there with him. Yet when we put our collective foot down this weekend and wouldn’t let him get away with not even trying what we were having for lunch, he ended up eating tons of what he was sticking his nose up at. So it’s physical fears more than other kinds? I’m not sure. He’s beginning to see things in the dark, which I know is a common developmental milestone for this age. Same with occasional nightmares and bad dreams.

And yet while all this is going on Kirk’s become incredibly sweet regarding his imminent baby sister. He’s extremely possessive of her, constantly asking, “That’s my baby, right Mama?” He will pet my stomach, kiss it, talk to it, “tickle” it. He worries that a random freckle is an owie on his sister. He plans out all the things he’s going to teach her. He was really upset when he learned that he’d have to stay with Auntie when I go to the hospital and only calmed down when I reassured him he’d then get to come, too, to meet her after she’s born. “Having a baby out of your tummy is a lot of hard work Mama.” I don’t know where he got that from but he’s not wrong!

Tales of Beedle the Sushi Chef

I’m a big reader of comic books (obviously). I’ve seen a fair amount of anime. But for some reason I never really have delved into the world of manga. It’s not because they’re “backwards”; I think that’s kind of fun. I honestly don’t know why. But then I found out that a friend of mine was working on the English adaptation of one and I decided I needed to read it. Mixed Vegetables was fantastic! I really liked it. OK, frankly it took me a little while to really get into it. Damn I forgot how hyper it can be! But then I found myself thoroughly caught up in the story of Hana’s quest to be a female sushi chef via dating the extremely dreamy (seriously, he’s drawn sooooo dreamy) Hayato and I was hooked. My library only has the first volume but I need to read more. I’ll have to put in a purchase request or do an inter-library loan.

I got The Tales of Beedle the Bard for Christmas and read it extremely slowly. It was as though I was purposely trying to make the Potterverse last, knowing this was it. I’m a fan of folk tales anyway, especially those from cultures I didn’t grow up within, so I was predisposed to love these. But I think I liked Dumbledore’s commentary even more than the stories themselves! It gave just the briefest glimpses into Wizarding politics, particularly around Hogwarts, with a sprinkling of history. The best part was when he would discuss the attempts to sanitize the often descriptive tales, to make them more palatable for children. Hilarious! And all too prevalent in the Muggle world as well. We’ve got a lame toddler version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears which Mr. b just loathes. We both change it when reading it to Kirk so that it’s apparent that Goldilocks is a) breaking and entering and b) gets eaten in the end for being naughty.

Independence

Kirk is starting to make his own plans. It’s different from making his own decisions and certainly different from making his own choices when presented with The Thing We Want Him To Do and Something Else That Clearly Sucks to choose between. I had told him about Sunday dinner at Nana and Papa’s house back on Friday night or so. He knew it was coming up and was looking forward to it. When he woke up from his Quiet Time on Saturday afternoon, he was ready to go. NOW. Waiting for Sunday morning was not an option. Knowing that my sister was going to head up at some point that night with her girls, I asked him if he wanted me to call Auntie and see if he could go with her. It was all his own idea from there. He spoke to Auntie on the phone and I helped him pack his backpack and pull out his sleeping bag and his daddy helped him pick out toys and then he was chompin’ at the bit. Every five minutes he wanted to know where Auntie was. “When you finish your breakfast [supper] then Auntie will be here?” He was completely unfazed by leaving us for the night.

And of course since we suddenly had a childfree night we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. It’s not like it was planned out and we were heading to a gig or a movie or hell even dinner.

The strangest part of Kirk’s event planning is how quickly he makes up his mind, especially when he changes it. Sunday dinner was delicious, Kirk spent huge amounts of time out playing in the snow with his cousins, everybody got plenty of time to visit. My sister assumed that Kirk would end up spending last night up there, too, since his cousins were going to spend another night there. We arranged everything so that she would drop him off at daycare today and thought that settled it. Mr. b and I hung out later than we normally would, figuring that we’d go home when the kids went to bed. And that’s when it all changed. Kirk announced that he wanted to sleep at home, in his own bed, and started packing up his stuff. We had to go into overdrive – it was already past bedtime at that point! But it was all worth the rush because when Mr. b put a sleeping Kirkie into his bed, Kirk snuggled into his pillow as we tucked his blankets around him and got the happiest little smile on his face. Ah, that’s the stuff.

New Year's Revelations

I broke down when we got home from my sister’s house on Christmas. I was feeling the pressure of all the things I’ve been putting off until “after the holidays”. Plus holiday and personality stress like my sister snapping at me earlier that morning and two pairs of Kirk’s brand new Christmas present underpants being accidentally thrown away. I need to feel like we’re making preparations for this baby. I definitely do not feel like Mr. b and I are on the same page as far as baby prep goes and even after talking to him about it I still don’t know that we are. But I did realize that I need to take control over something, anything.

I’ve joked about my procrastination habits for most of my life. I put off everything from school work to sewing projects and it’s continued into my adulthood, to an occasionally detrimental degree. I didn’t bother to submit the rebate paperwork for the dishwasher delivery fee in a timely fashion and we’ll likely miss out on that now. I still haven’t made an appointment for Kirk’s eyes or for my thumb, because neither are immediately critical issues so it’s easy to put off. I can’t allow myself to be so lacking when it comes to housework and homemaking and parenting and being a grown up.

My grandmother gave me a piece of advice that I’ve tried to follow: just do one thing every day so that your chores don’t pile up. The problem is that I’ve become accustomed to certain tasks and count them in lieu of others. Don’t feel like sweeping the floors? Well, how ‘bout I do a load of laundry that could wait until tomorrow instead. I rarely run out of clean clothes for the family to wear but the old stove top was usually a disaster. I recently read the sixth book in the Anne of Green Gable series. In it she’s a grown woman, married to Gilbert and raising their six (surviving) children. And she is constantly working, whether it’s in the garden or sewing something for one of the kids or something else, she is busy. When her friends come to visit they bring their knitting or lace making projects and they sit together and chat while working. Idle time for daydreaming is a luxury to be doled out sparingly. And I realized, I take my idle time for granted and it’s actually doing me a disservice.

I need to keep busy. I have excellent time management skills. At work I can juggle multiple deadlines and beat them easily. When cooking I can nearly always perfectly time out each element of a multi-part meal without actually thinking about it. I’ve known for years now that if I bustle about the house when I first get home from work, picking up or making dinner or something simple, that I’ll get a lot done but if I allow myself to sit on the couch first then the evening is a complete bust. So I obviously need to extend this to the post-dinner hour. Spending time on the internets is great. Watching TV is great. Reading is great. But I need to dial it back and make sure I keep it balanced. For me it’s not idle hands that are the devil’s playground but rather an idle mind. If I’m not focused on something then I start to over-think and over-analyze. Worry. Fret. And just generally freak out about life, the universe, and everything.

This afternoon I read this article about praise and boy did it lock in to place all the pieces of my previous revelation and self-awareness. I absolutely didn't bother to try at things that didn't come naturally. Putting in effort was for suckers and nerds; the "real" smart kids didn't have to work at it and I was always able to easily classify myself with that elitist bent. Besides, it’s not like there was an *actual* A+++ I could earn. (Extra credit? Of course! As long as it was easy.) College was a real wake-up call for me. No longer was Good Enough good enough when I was competing with students that actually tried. My Good Enough was no longer Spectacular in comparison. I do wonder how much of that old attitude is residual in what I now label as my natural procrastination? If I don't start a craft project until it's "due" then the only effort I'm putting in is the bare minimum needed to finish, right? Nothing extra.

I can also see that I already do praise the Captain very specifically. I will tell him that he’s awesome for a defined reason. He pooped in the potty all by himself. Why? Because he’s awesome. I praise him for trying something he’s previously declined to even attempt and give him detailed feedback when he’s particularly polite or does something completely on his own for the first time without prompting from me. I definitely think that must be a subconscious reaction to try to prevent the same thing from happening to him – being overwhelmed by too much adequacy.

I absolutely believe that being Good at too many things but Great at nothing is what has led me to my current I-just-fell-into-this career. I know my mom believes that the same thing happened to her and led to her becoming a teacher, because then she didn’t have to focus. I could never pick a minute enough topic for a dissertation and that was definitely as big of a factor as finances and general dissatisfaction with contract archaeology which allowed me to finally let go of the idea of grad school. And I think it has a lot to do with my inability to pick a career path now. I keep telling myself that I just can’t think about it until after maternity leave. But why? Why can’t I start researching and investigating my options? I’ve had countless job performance reviews where I’ve heard, “You’re just so much smarter than everyone else that it’s intimidating” but no real mentoring advice. So I’m on my own I guess. I need to take this newfound self-awareness and apply it to something more than just doing the dishes and cleaning the bathroom and sorting through Kirk’s old baby clothes to find the gender neutral stuff. Intelligence absolutely can be learned. Your brain absolutely can be exercised. I need to believe that I can stop this cycle of just taking the HR mandated promotions as they come and actually earn something. But godsdamn it’s going to be hard. And trying is just so foreign to me.

Geekery

Recently we finally got a dishwasher and we naturally gave the box to Kirk to play in. It comes equipped with two doors and two windows.



Kirk has been referring to it as his spaceship. Mr. b has been calling it a TARDIS. Either way, it’s been fun to watch him play in it. Of course now it’s relegated to the basement but still. Kirk would announce, "Bye! I’m going to space. See you later!" and then disappear into the box. I love his imagination and his fascination with space.

I don’t feel like having us as his parents has in any way forced science fiction upon him. If anything, it’s simply made it more available to him but the tendency has always been there on its own. Kirk quickly focused his attention on Buzz Lightyear, rather than Woody, when first watching Toy Story. We have had nothing to do with his preference for The Incredibles over Ratatouille. Sure, when he was in his Star Wars phase last year we had a selection of lightsabers already on hand for him to play with. But even when he was a baby he was captivated by the planets and robots in the Baby Galileo video. That’s not something you can predict.

I do remember having the same natural predilection when I was little. I loved the Maurice Sendak "Little Bear" stories but my favorite one was where Little Bear went to the moon. I would tape the Wonderful World of Disney Sunday Night TV movies and only keep the ones like Earth Star Voyager. My first hazy memory is of seeing Star Wars at the drive-in with my parents. I didn’t know it was a specific genre that I was drawn to. I never even made the connection until decades later.

There’s the concept of the Stealth Geek that I enjoy. (Though lord knows in our hipster music circles everyone is pretty open about their Doctor Who and Battlestar Galactica and Lord of the Rings obsessions.) I think that Kirk is already showing awareness of a receptive audience. When a friend of the family was over recently and she mentioned Star Trek he started chatting excitedly about the show. He’s got his favorite couple of episodes and showed off how he put action figures in his Little Einsteins rocket to use as the Enterprise. But when he was around his cousins over Thanksgiving he didn’t mention anything of the sort. They talked about Cars and whatever attack-Mr.-b’s-cousin game they were playing. I’m impressed that he’s already that cognizant of the cultural divide. And that he finds common ground with people to discuss something they find interesting, instead of just going off on his own topics. I’ve realized I do that, too. I unconsciously keep a mental catalogue of common interests with rarely seen friends and acquaintances so that I always have an easy conversation starter when I do see them.

It’s intriguing to hear people’s reactions to Kirk’s interests though. Some just shrug it off as inevitable. Others think it’s cool that we don’t have to put up with the usual Barney and whatever garbage. But it’s not like he doesn’t watch any of the standard PBS/Disney Channel/Nickelodeon kid’s shows. He just mixes it up with stuff that we genuinely enjoy as well. And frankly, I don’t see anything wrong with that.

Restless Brain Syndrome

The preggo insomnia is really starting to take its toll on my mental facilities. I’m just barely holding on to a thread of rational thought today. I don’t remember the sleeplessness being so bad when I was pregnant with Kirk. Sure, it was difficult to get comfortable and I woke up to pee more times than should be allowed without turning into a punchline. But the straight up inability to stay asleep wasn’t an issue.

I’ve had sporadic random insomnia throughout my life. Usually I can fall asleep no problem but if I wake up in the middle of the night I can’t get back to sleep, often for a couple of hours. But I generally only woke up from a weird dream or an odd noise or something, and it certainly wasn’t common. Now I’m waking up nearly every night, either to pee or because Kirk’s demanding something from the other room. Even if I make Mr. b go attend to the boy, well, I’m still awake.

So then I toss and turn and my brain goes into overdrive and all my old tricks for calming my thoughts don’t work anymore. Last night was especially bad because a level of crazy got added. I don’t know if it’s hormones or sleep deprivation but I ended up bawling for nearly an hour. After spending an hour or so watching reruns of M*A*S*H. After gazing out the front window into the dark street. After restlessly flipping about from side to side in bed for an hour. I feel like a ghastly human. I was filled with so much self-loathing and pure hatred. The reason I woke up? I was sleep slapping Mr. b to get him to stop snoring. In my head I thought I was stopping him from spoiling me on episodes of Angel I hadn’t gotten to yet. He ended up moving to the spare bed in the basement. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I’m a terrible mother. I spanked Kirk – in public – earlier that evening when he hit me in the belly at the store. And then when he stumbled and stubbed his finger while getting out of the car back at home I didn’t comfort him. And then when he was slamming the bedroom door against the wall, causing a doorknob shaped ring to be pressed into the wall, I grabbed his hand to stop him and squeezed too tight and hurt him. I’m a cruel and vicious person. What right do I have to bring another human into the world? How can I possibly be a good mother?

I also felt so alone. I don’t have anything in my life to identify me other than being pregnant. I have no hobbies. I have no interests. I have nothing going on, no plans or strategies. I feel like I have nothing to control. Everything is breaking around me. Our DVD/VCR has been useless for a while now. We watch discs on a Playstation 2 and just don’t watch anything on tape. Our new dishwasher still isn’t installed because the handyman keeps putting off the work. Our oven no longer works, the heat won’t come on, so even though the range top works we have to figure out if it’s fixable or if we need to magically find the money for a new stove. Our car is paid off but that just translates to constant issues, the latest dealing with tires. Our ARM resets next year and will we even be able to afford to live in our too small house with crappy appliances?

I feel this little girl squirming inside me and I worry about the pregnancy. I didn’t fret about that last time at all. But now each little abdominal twinge, each poo cramp or stomach growl, each time I don’t feel her moving (certainly not for long enough to be a *real* concern), sets me off on a bad train of thought.

I’m just so tired.

Stuff

This morning Kirk left the house for daycare carrying the following items:

a juice cup

a sandwich baggie filled with cereal

his blue blankie

a plastic grocery bag filled with 8 or 9 Cars (all numbered race characters)

his pillow with the Incredibles pillow case

We did not help him carry any of these items and he was clearly overburdened with too much crap. He even stumbled up the step on K’s sidewalk when we arrived at daycare. However, the rule is You’re In Charge Of Your Own Stuff. I have my own stuff. Mr. b has his own stuff. If Kirk wants to bring anything, then he needs to be sure he brings it. We refuse to turn the car around on the mornings he’s wailing because he forgot whatever item it was he’s upset about not having. He’s in charge of his own stuff.

What to Watch

We are a TV family. Oh sure, you can feel superior about not even owning a television set. I don’t care. I think that makes you a freak. I like having the TV on as background noise. I’ve always been that way. I can remember my dad getting on my case when I was a kid, incredulous that I could actually be focusing on my homework while sitting in front on the TV. But frankly, it blocked out the noise and helped me concentrate!

Since I don’t want to have anything on that will be upsetting for Kirk, I’ve settled on “safety channels” that are somewhat different than my previous ones. Sure, he’s got his own shows on PBS or Disney or Nickelodeon but there are only so many of those that I can handle. The Food Network ends up on a lot. I can guarantee there won’t be anything scary or harsh on there. The same can’t be said of other seemingly family friendly cable networks. History? You’ll end up with some massacre or Holocaust show. TLC? Inevitably it’ll be a disgusting surgery show. Discovery? Weapons and warfare. You just can’t win!

It’s not like Kirk actually actively watches TV for hours and hours at a time. Like I said, background noise. Even if he’s picked out something of his own to have on – currently the winner is the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command movie – he often just wanders away. He’ll play toys on the ottoman or jump around on the furniture without actually paying attention to what’s on the screen. Or he’ll be over at the fridge, arranging his magnets. Or he’ll just leave the room entirely and play toys in his bedroom. At which point I’ll attempt to switch over to something I’d rather listen to, like whatever showbiz gossip show is on while I’m making dinner.

When it comes to appointment television there are very few of my shows that I’m fine with Kirk seeing. Sarah Connor Chronicles, Heroes, Lost, 24, they’re all just plain way too violent. And I need to pay full attention to what’s going on! But we’ve come to the conclusion that Doctor Who is usually fine. It’s not gory, the bad guys are obvious, and the Doctor always saves the day. It’s billed as kid’s programming in the UK anyway. Actually, I think most science fiction is fine for him. OK, not Battlestar Galactica. Obviously. But Stargate? Star Trek? Star Wars? No problem. And one of his favorites these days is Futurama.

But I’m also not blind to the fact that just because something is made in the medium of animation means that it’s safe for children to view. That’s a facile American simplification that ignores that the art form has grown beyond its initial use in serials and Saturday morning cartoons. The Simpsons he can watch. Family Guy and South Park? No fucking way. And he knows it. If we don’t turn the channel fast enough he’ll point and announce that, “It’s the naughty show!”

Kirk is very understanding about the fact that there is just some stuff that he can’t watch. We’ll flip the channel whenever a horror movie ad comes on (because the politicians so concerned about having ratings on television programs apparently don’t care what sort of scarring commercials are shown during those family friendly hours) and just tell him that it’s too scary. He’ll find the cases to something we were watching, like Mr. b had Cheech and Chong out the other day, and tell us all about how that movie is too naughty for him to watch but he can see it when he gets bigger. He even asked me a couple of weeks ago if he was big enough for naughty movies. I explained he has to put all of his poops and pees in the potty. I’ll have to come up with a different excuse as soon as he’s got that mastered.

Developments

I’m pretty sure I’m feeling fetal movement now, and not just uterus stuff. It’s still pretty vague and it’s definitely early yet, but a pattern is emerging so that’s why I think it’s Child Person Mark II. Typically in the late evening is when I can feel it and then it’ll last for maybe up to an hour. I’ll have to go back over my early posts to see where I was with Kirk when I first started feeling him. I know it was early for a first timer so I guess it wouldn’t surprise me if I’m noticing it early again now.

Mr. b has gone back to school. We’re still getting used to his new schedule and it’ll change again next semester. The biggest difference for me is that I’m doing the daycare drop off and pick up now. I’ve been taking the bus for so long I need to get used to the new timing. And I won’t be able to read as much. So far Kirk’s been really good about his daddy leaving at night to go to class. In the past he has pitched a fit when Mr. b leaves for band practice but he’s been very understanding about school. I don’t know what it’ll be like when I have a new infant to also deal with in the evenings but so far Kirk and I are keeping ourselves busy. We go on walks or do laundry or yardwork and then start the nigh-nigh routine. We can’t run errands though since Mr. b has the car. That’s going to also take some advance planning to adjust.

I spanked Kirk this morning. I know everyone’s got strong feelings on spanking but frankly, it’s been a long time coming. We’ve been threatening it for several weeks now as counting to three only works sometimes and taking away his toys or blankie only works sometimes and turning off his movies only works sometimes and putting him in time out only works sometimes. He’s a little brat and I was done. I was trying to get him dressed and he was actively fighting me, stepping on his diaper so I couldn’t get it up his legs, and punching and headbutting all the while. So I swatted him on the butt. It certainly wasn’t hard but it was enough to make him pay attention and he cooperated for the rest of the getting ready and was sweet to me at daycare drop off. We’ll see how long it lasts. I should have known I’d be the first to go there. We were just discussing how spoiled he is the other day, too. Some of that is generational of course and some is that we need to step it up. When Kirk doesn’t follow the rules we have been giving him choices: you can go to your room with the door closed or you can sit at the dinner table with us. I gave him two choices this morning: we could use teamwork to get his outfit on or I could hold him against his will and do it myself. That should have been his tip-off that Mama wasn’t gonna play games. And maybe it will be next time he decides to be a jerk instead of “I wanna be good and listen”.

We’re both feeling the need to nest already. It’s not the same as the end of term nesting but it’s real nevertheless. Mr. b cleared a ton of shit out of the basement last week and while it’s all just sitting in the garage now it’s making it easier to see what exactly needs to be done for cleaning and organizing purposes. I’m also desperate for craft projects. I have ideas for everything from framing prints to knitting to embroidery to rug making but I haven’t actually started any of them. What I need to do is make a pattern for my Halloween costume and go to the fabric store. I’m not sure if the DIY impulse is pregnancy related or seasonal. I do typically get a burst of creative energy in the fall.

Kirk has a new trick up his sleeve when it comes to delaying sleep after being put to bed. The interesting thing is that he does not get out of his bed at night – or even in the morning. He’ll sit up and play with Woody and Buzz and talk to himself or shout for us but he won’t actually leave until one of us opens his door. Which has been nice because we were warned up and down that the second he switched from his crib to his big boy bed that he’d be bugging us constantly. However, with the organization trend in the house, we put a short bookcase in his room near his bed and moved his toy stove over to the other side. He dragged the plastic kitchenette back to by his bed, placing it in front of the bookshelf. So now he can reach out and haul the entire thing right next to him and get at the toys that are stored within. Scammer. Smart little bugger! I don’t really care though. He fought going to bed last night with a declaration that he wanted to “stay up all night!” I told him he was welcome to do so: in his room, with the door shut, and the lights off. He was asleep within 20 minutes.

Fashion Roadkill

I am frickin’ fed up with Kirk’s refusal to wear anything besides sweatpants and long sleeved stripey shirts. Honestly. It’s ridiculous. Part of the problem is the dwindling supply. I was unaware that Minnesota had canceled Spring so I didn’t stock up on additional sweats while they were still available in stores. The Summer clothes are there but…the Summer weather is not. Kirk keeps on growing and so he’s down to 4 acceptable shirts and 3 pairs of pants. That are in constant rotation.

At first we were delighted with his preference for the sweatpants. We thought it meant he was going to start taking a more active role in his pottying since they are much easier to remove than jeans with snaps and a zipper. But nope. No luck there. And I honestly don’t know why the stripey shirt thing caught on as completely as it did, except that his daddy sure has a lot of them in his own wardrobe.

For a while now I’ve been giving Kirk a choice when it comes to the Battle of Getting Dressed every morning: jeans or khakis. “Jeans are yucky! Khakis are yucky! I want sweats!” So I give in, because it means that he’s at least out of his jammies. The next round is shirts: long sleeved or short sleeved. He is completely against short sleeves. But he was fine with them in Texas…? Next I’ll pull out two shirts that match as closely as is possible whatever clean sweats he’s in and let him decide. “NOOOO! I need a stripey!” My kid dresses like Frankenstein from Big Daddy. *sigh*