There is a beautiful poem entitled Children by Khalil Gibran and in it this passage, (children) "they come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you"...which makes me wonder, even though I don't have a receipt, can I still return one? Because, really, I was just borrowing it and I'm done.
Done.
No. Well then, can I have a replacement or make an exchange?
These are the thoughts that run through my head with my oldest daughter. Well, these thoughts and worse.
She has been "spirited", "energetic", "passionate" , or "hard to please" since conception. I don't care what euphemism you use, she is difficult. During our pregnancy, and it was definitely an "our" pregnancy, because if it was my pregnancy there would've been less passing out or "being vertically challenged" and a whole lot more ice cream consumption without heartburn. She showed her colors early, if you so much as laid a hand on her she would kick and punch and generally pummel me to get you off of her. This would just encourage people to do so more, "I felt the baby move!", and end up with me having the daylights beat out of my bladder and uterus...and this was before delivery! Upon said delivery the nurses deemed her "dramatic". Being incredibly in love with the idea and then the actuality of her, I didn't catch their drift. Now I do. Do I ever.
As always, I want to dissect her behavior and blame it on her father's genetics?
Where did she get this violent nature? Oh, you used to bite your sister.
Why does she kick at her baby sister just for getting near her? Mmmm, you're a black belt in martial arts.
Why does she scream words of gibberish in an aggressive tone? Ah, your family is quite gifted with acquiring language.
Why doesn't she want me to hug her to comfort her? Yes, you don't like public displays of affection, I see.
Yes, I get it. It is her father's fault. She is her father's daughter. Which makes me think, I wonder if he has the receipt somewhere in his wallet?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
My Girl Will Knock You Out!
With a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do mentality, I started my day with the removal of my earplugs.
I was lying in bed, in the middle of the bed, while my husband was sleeping on the couch downstairs. No, there was no fight. Not between us anyway. There seems to be an ongoing bout between our infant daughter and sleep.
Mr. Sandman comes easily every night and makes a small deposit. A very small deposit, too small. The magic of sleep wears off well before the sun arises and when it does it sounds exactly like this...
screaming. Screaming. SCREAMING!
This started 25 days (and nights) ago. Ding, ding!
It started with waking every 1 1/2 to 3 hours. How did I make it through the early rounds? By clinching. Yup, I got her out of the bed and nursed. I know! I should'nt have but I did. I admit it. She let me do it, she roped-a-dope and she did so easily. I was a sucker for the easy fix. Unfortunately, there was no fix, just another round in what quickly became an epic battle. It dawned on me after a few nights, "By God, she's going to go the distance!" Her tenacity makes me proud in an odd way; my little one is a contender!
With a bit of bobbing and weaving the stretches of shut eye reached 3 to 8 hours. Once again, I managed to make it to my corner, towel off and head back out. Now, we're at once a night, but damn, I just cannot go on much longer. So, I've covered up.
As much as I hate not responding to my child's cries in the night, I know that she is not hungry and therefore not in need of me. So, Dad is my cornerman. And Dad is not going to let us throw in the towel. So, he sleeps on the couch and stands by the crib while I roll with the punches upstairs in bed.
I was lying in bed, in the middle of the bed, while my husband was sleeping on the couch downstairs. No, there was no fight. Not between us anyway. There seems to be an ongoing bout between our infant daughter and sleep.
Mr. Sandman comes easily every night and makes a small deposit. A very small deposit, too small. The magic of sleep wears off well before the sun arises and when it does it sounds exactly like this...
screaming. Screaming. SCREAMING!
This started 25 days (and nights) ago. Ding, ding!
It started with waking every 1 1/2 to 3 hours. How did I make it through the early rounds? By clinching. Yup, I got her out of the bed and nursed. I know! I should'nt have but I did. I admit it. She let me do it, she roped-a-dope and she did so easily. I was a sucker for the easy fix. Unfortunately, there was no fix, just another round in what quickly became an epic battle. It dawned on me after a few nights, "By God, she's going to go the distance!" Her tenacity makes me proud in an odd way; my little one is a contender!
With a bit of bobbing and weaving the stretches of shut eye reached 3 to 8 hours. Once again, I managed to make it to my corner, towel off and head back out. Now, we're at once a night, but damn, I just cannot go on much longer. So, I've covered up.
As much as I hate not responding to my child's cries in the night, I know that she is not hungry and therefore not in need of me. So, Dad is my cornerman. And Dad is not going to let us throw in the towel. So, he sleeps on the couch and stands by the crib while I roll with the punches upstairs in bed.
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