17

Nov

The Good Traveler

We are blessed with a good traveler. A good airplane traveler, that is. Car trips are another issue, but since we now use a portable DVD player during longer drives, Miss Red tolerates them.

At 8 months, first plane trip.

As some of you may recall, we went to Okinawa, Japan in April, with our then 2.5 year-old, and she was amazing. I mean, really truly great. She went with the flow and had a lot of fun exploring.

How we survived 15 hours of plane travel with a child who didn’t sleep.

We’re back from Galveston, and I keep thinking about how well she did on the plane. Strangers would stop me and tell me what a good traveler she was. A man offered to carry a bag for me up the jet bridge so I could untangle her gate-checked stroller. She was given plastic wings on one leg of the flight and said after I pinned them to her fleece, “This means I’m a good traveler.”

She really, truly is. She talks about taking trips. She wants to go to China next, she says. She wants to go to Orangeland and Greenland. She wants to see the ocean again.

Galveston

I love this. I love that she can think of places real or imagined and decide it’s worthy of getting on a plane for. I only hope we can take her there.

Where do you hope to take your kids one day?

– MD

12 years ago Short URL Comments

Childhood/Travel

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15

Nov

The Cousins

My intentions for posting daily for NaBloPoMo were true, really they were. I even posted from the road while traveling for work, but last Thursday we three hopped on a plane for Galveston, Texas, and I barely checked my email or opened the laptop, so alas, I lapsed.

We went to Galveston for a lovely wedding. It was my first time there, with my previous Texas experiences limited to San Antonio, where my mother is from, and Austin.

Our little family really enjoys spending time with my mother-in-law’s family. This might sound like a given for some people, but I come from a complicated and fractured family myself – some people aren’t talking to one another on one side, I’m not talking to others on another side – and in some cases, people can’t even remember why they aren’t talking anymore. I grew up with a cousin only three months younger and for much of our lives we were attached at the hip, and to this day retain a close bond. I have been close to other family members over the years, but time or distance have pulled us apart, so to have family that actually likes spending time together is a joy.

This gaggle of relatives stem from my mother-in-law and her three siblings. Their offspring and the people who have  married in and their children are all called The Cousins. I get to be a Cousin, and we range in age from 22 to 38. We live in Arizona, Georgia, Iowa, New York, Texas, Wisconsin and Japan, and when we get together, it’s a veritable United Nations meeting – with representatives from Scotland and Russia, too.

My favorite moments were the ones where Miss Red and her Arizona cousins played – coloring, twirling, dancing, laughing, and running.

At our final lunch together we started looking at calendars for our next family reunion. A time when The Cousins can frolic again.

What are you favorite family memories?

– MD

12 years ago Short URL 2 Comments

Childhood/Memory/Travel

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09

Nov

Creating Memory

This year many of our friends were pregnant, including Miss Red’s former daycare provider, so talking about babies was an all-the-time occurrence. She’d ask if babies were in everyone’s tummy and share information about if they were a boy or girl.

We started talking about when she was in my body, and out of nowhere she said, “and then I jumped!” Which is quite funny, since she wasn’t much of a jumper, more like a slow-moving deep sea creature.

Even now, at dinner, she’ll talk about how she was in my body and that I worked hard to get her out. During a car ride Ray LaMontagne came on the radio, and I told her that we played his music while in labor. “And then I jumped!”

How do you share your pregnancy stories with your kids? Do they share an interest in them?

– MD

 

13 years ago Short URL 2 Comments

Memory

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08

Nov

When I Grow Up

When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? Me? I wanted to be an archeologist, mostly because I loved rocks.

Photo by EC

Somewhere along the way I changed my mind to psychologist, then academic. Then I found myself in communications, where I happily remain.

Do you talk about careers or work with you children? Do you have dreams of what they might be when they grow up?

– MD

13 years ago Short URL 2 Comments

Parenthood

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07

Nov

Parts of Me

Part two of my awesome car trip with EC and RC was the drive home, where we dove into meatier topics. Not on purpose, but as part of a flow of good friends in a car for more than three hours and the conversations that emerge. We talked openly about our parents and how our experiences as children, combined with our parents’ parenting has molded our parenting and the anxieties or habits we work with.

I confided that I spend a good amount of time being concerned that Miss Red will hate me – I know, it drives my husband crazy – but I do. I fear that she’ll never want to be a part of my life, never want to see me again and just turn her back on me. Why? I don’t know.

While sharing this, EC asked me something I had never considered: Think of the good she’ll take from you, and how she’ll love those parts of you.

I had never considered that there might be parts of me my daughter would love. Maybe I’m so caught up in my entire love for her, that I had an “all or nothing” mentality about this emotion – that she would either love me or hate me, and not, what is probably true, that she’ll love parts of me and hate (maybe not) parts of me, too.

Can I share what a relief that was? That that sentence, in the moment, and in retrospect, washed away layers of anxiety? Again, why? I myself have no issues with love. I love myself, I know I’m lovable, I have loving relationships. It’s this seed, this stick, this root, this essence, this unnamed that drives me to the brink of tears when thinking of my daughter.

Hush, little baby.

Honestly, what it comes down to is that I haven’t quite learned to be in the moment with my daughter. I can be present, but if I’m honest, there is that part of me, that clinging, hopeful, needy part that is wrapped up in real and imagined interactions, that cries softly please love me.

– MD

13 years ago Short URL 2 Comments

Motherhood

06

Nov

When I Am Old and Gray

I was on a longish car ride with EC and RC this weekend, and we briefly touched upon our hopes for when we are older and retired. Our dreams of drinking coffee, meeting with friends, volunteering, and generally being free.

It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized that none of us included our children in this equation. None of us mentioned grandchildren or our own children visiting, or any other iteration of seeing them. Maybe recent generations have come to realize and not expect that their children will care for them in their old age. I tend to whine a little that when Miss Red is a teenager she’ll hate me, but I honestly can’t imagine her as an adult – which, God willing, she’ll get to be – and how she’ll want to spend time with me.

Me? I’ve got my days planned out. They involve my husband and friends, with volunteering and auditing classes at UW-Madison tucked into coffee shop visits and walks. Not unlike what I do now, minus the auditing thing.

When I’m old and gray, who will be part of this story with me? When I’m old and gray, who will help me write that chapter of my life while my daughter will have cast hers for decades?

– MD

13 years ago Short URL 3 Comments

Motherhood

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05

Nov

Away

I’m experiencing internet issues and am typing this on my phone, but still want a daily post for NaBloPoMo. Here it is, with more tomorrow to make up for this.

– MD

13 years ago Short URL Comments

Uncategorized

04

Nov

Tit for Tat

My husband and I, while sedentary bookworms at heart, like to do stuff. In fact, one of us likes to leave the house each night – to exercise, go to the library, a coffee shop, or even run errands. When Miss Red was an infant and we were both home with her, we gave one another an hour or two each day to leave the house – a necessity to prevent insanity.

Art by Colin Holden

Our schedules are pretty standard these days – one day a week CH has choir, I hit a yoga class one night a week, we both exercise one additional night each, and he goes out each Thursday night with other friends.

What has always been important to us is equality in parenting. Nothing can ever be equal, but we each do our best to spend equal amounts of time with Miss Red and give one another equal amounts of time away. Thus, we take turns bathing her and putting her to sleep, getting up in the middle of the night, and sleeping in on the weekends. We like it, and it works for us. But what can sometimes emerge is a “tit for tat” mentality that we are both guilty of – the “I gave her a bath last time, so it’s your turn,” or “you were gone all day, so I’m going to check out tonight.” Again, it mostly works and there are no hard feelings, but I know at some point that will disappear – as Miss Red becomes more independent and there isn’t so much management of her needs.

For now, even with hiccups, it works. Does something like this work for you?

– MD

13 years ago Short URL 2 Comments

Parenthood

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03

Nov

First Responders

I’m not doing too bad for being up at 2 a.m. changing poopy sheets. CH and I were awoken last night by Miss Red crying, “I need to go potty,” and I asked him to help her. I heard commotion and headed downstairs to find Miss Red crying and CH frustrated. “Can you change her sheets?”

Sleeping Beauty

With two Pull-Ups still unused, Miss Red decided last week that she didn’t want to wear them at nighttime. Since she stays dry through the night 99% of the time, we didn’t push the issue. I knew we were taking a risk, but I was glad to cross off Pull-Ups from the shopping list.

I changed her sheets while CH dealt with changing her and wiping her down. She was so upset – I’m guessing a mix of embarrassment and being tired, and it was a struggle to get her do anything. Her room smelled. The bathroom smelled. When we put her back into bed she still refused to take off her pajama top, which was soaked, and I convinced her to change shirts by letting he wear her Solidarity t-shirt, which she calls her “Be Nice to Teachers” shirt. Heh heh.

I tucked her in, checking her forehead, and she fell asleep immediately. CH put the sheets and blankets in the washing machine and needed to shower himself. As the first responder, he was dirty for sure.

Back in my own bed, adrenaline had made me Awake, and after a few minutes of tossing and turning I made my way onto our couch. The experience reminded me of when I was home on maternity leave with Miss Red, and she simultaneously pooped onto me and puked down my shirt. I had a New Mom Moment of Panic – unaware of what to do. It was gross, but in the end, and even now, I laughed a little bit. It’s par for the course – as newborns move from a bundle of nerves who poop and puke to toddlers who are afraid to poop and puke, our role is to be there and catch it all.

– MD

13 years ago Short URL Comments

Childhood/Memory/Parenthood

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02

Nov

Do You Love Me?

It’s no secret that our daughter prefers my husband. No doubt at all. And why not? He’s a fantastic dad – I mean, really, truly great. In the beginning of this realization I was sad, pouting internally and externally about her crying for him, or just not wanting to be with me. Don’t get me wrong, she still does show affection toward me – we cuddle and read stories and I was the first person she said “I love you” to.

A blurry parade.

But I’m also the person she said to, deadpan, “Mama, I don’t like your face when I’m crying.”

Many people think I’m joking when I say this, but on Monday night/Tuesday morning she was up for about three hours. Fortunately, she was in a good mood, but was just awake. I took a bulk of this time, since CH had attended to her around midnight. I crawled into her bed, and she said, “No, mama, I want dada.” “Why?” I asked. “Because I love him so much.” Foolishly, it being about 2 a.m., asked, “don’t you love me?” Without missing a beat, she replied, “Only a little bit.”

Well, you get what you ask for.

This morning at drop-off, she gave me a little hug. “Where’s my big squeeze?” I asked. “I’m only giving you a little squeeze because I only love you a little bit” she answered.

These statements drive my husband batty. “Be nice to mama” is a common phrase in our house. I honestly don’t know what to do, and generally keep fairly neutral, except for when she’s saying something mean as a form of acting out. I mean, the girl can express her feelings, right? And how many of you love your parents equally? You might love them for different reasons, but don’t you have a favorite? “It will change,” say friends. “She’ll switch back and forth,” they say. I don’t know that. She might, sure, but she might not. For now, I take it as a lesson of something – how one person, created from love, who literally alters your body forever – can also change your heart.

– MD

13 years ago Short URL 4 Comments

Childhood/Memory/Motherhood

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