I have a kid

On Sunday, our local library celebrated Family Literacy Day with all kinds of fun events. There were puppet shows, live music, a magician, a craft table, etc. It was like a con for kids! There was even SWAG.


So I took Gwen out to the festivities and watched her brain explode at the concept of there being live, amplified music in the lobby of the building where we usually remind her to use her quiet voice. We took in two shows, the puppet show and the magic show. There were chairs in the rooms where these shows took place, but most of the kids elected (and were encouraged) to sit on the floor directly in front of the performers. Though Gwen sat on my lap for the puppet show, she happily joined the crowd of kids watching Zigster the Trickster from as close a vantage point as they could possibly get.


I really enjoyed Zigster's patter and his tricks. He'd obviously crafted this particular show to appeal to kids, at their humour and comprehension level, but it was also great fun for the parents in attendance. But even as I watched the show, my awareness was also on Gwen. Gwen was both physically and mentally away from me, relating to the kids and the magician without any mediation from me. It's hard to describe how special that felt.


Then, Zigster singled Gwen out and asked her to come help with one of the tricks. Time sort of slowed down for me for a moment. Would she respond? Would she even recognize that he was talking to her? Would she get shy, or lose focus? She stood up and said "Sure!" and marched over to behind his magician's chest and sat down beside him. I was absolutely tickled. Immediately after sitting down, she started looking around for me; fortunately, I was in the front row and gave her a little wave. "See, your mom's right there, she's protective, I can tell," Zigster said. He pulled out a deck of cards and asked her to pick one. Gwen, who has likely never seen a deck of cards in her life, stared blankly as he fanned through them a couple of times, then started looking around at all the other magic accoutrements. Zigster made her unco-operativeness a point of humour, which is probably exactly what he intended to do anyway. "Do you have, like, any interest at all in what I'm doing here?" he asked. "Yes!" replied Gwen, and of course the audience burst into laughter. "So, could you pick a card, like, today? How about that one? That one right there looks good." He wiggles one card out of the deck and Gwen takes it. "Show it to the audience. Show it to them, but not to me. Don't let me know that it's the ten of hearts, now. Just show it to them." Gwen holds the card obediently and somewhat blankly, with no idea what she is supposed to be doing. Then he asks her to put it back in the deck, which she does, and he shuffles the cards all together, only to produce the same card MAGICALLY a moment later. "Is this your card?" "YES!" shouts Gwen, and she probably had no idea what he was asking her but she was just so darn happy to be there. The girl knows her cues, she is born for show business.


Through the whole trick, I was giggling madly and bursting with pride and oh so very aware that I have a kid. Not a baby, not even a toddler anymore. She's a kid. If she can interact with a stranger in a somewhat meaningful and appropriate way, without any other mediation, she's a kid. If she can sit apart from me and negotiate personal space with other children, she's a kid. She has a lot to learn yet about the subtle give-and-take of social skills, but she's starting to take a step away from me and figure that stuff out for herself. She's a kid. Ready or not, here she comes.

Unimagined

In the fall of 2008, when Gwen was about six months old, I told Chris that I didn't want to go back to work full-time. "I want to work part-time," I said, "and be home with Gwen the rest of the time." And Chris vetoed it, saying we couldn't afford it. We couldn't afford to live on his salary plus half mine. And so in April 2009 I went back to work full-time, and that was the hardest adjustment I ever had to make, from stay-at-home mom to working mom. And I spent nearly a year being incredibly unhappy in my very volatile job, and then I found a job with a different department, and since then I've been pretty darn happy at work.

And then Chris lost his job.

And then we had to scale back Gwen's daycare* commitment because we can't afford to pay for 3-4 days a week of daycare while Chris is at home.

And soon he will be receiving EI which will be somewhere around half of his previous salary.

So here we are, living on my salary and half of his, while he is at home part-time with our child. Something that apparently, we could not afford to do.

I know he can't understand why, or empathize with me at all, but I'm jealous.

Not to mention completely baffled by how we ended up in this unimagined situation. I never pictured myself as the breadwinner. I'm not career-driven: I love what I do, but I don't live for it. I'm not continually seeking ways to fulfil my ambitions. Having a child didn't derail my career goals. Hell, I don't even know if I have career goals, other than to continue being employed until I can afford to retire.

And meanwhile he's jealous of me, because at least I have a job to go to. At least I have some way to define myself.

I feel like I'm in a weird mirror-image world. It's disorienting. I don't think this is to do with my preconceived gender roles so much as the utter lack of planning and choice that went into our current situation. Meaning, if we had consciously chosen to live this way then I would probably feel less disoriented. But in reality our situation has landed on us and we are just trying to adjust to it the best we can. I guess when you find yourself in an unforseen situation, you end up doing unimagined things.

*Thank God we have the flexibility to do this. If we were in a daycare centre, as I originally planned, rather than a home-based daycare, this wouldn't even be an option: we would just lose our spot.

Dear Gwen: Month Thirty-Three

Dear Gwen:

Today, you are thirty-three months old and you are without a doubt the most interesting child imaginable. Here are some things you have said and done lately that make me feel astounded to have you as a daughter:

(As I arrive home from work): Hey Mama! It's awesome to see you. I have something for you. (Puts a crown on my head) Now you're Princess Mama.

(After building a snowman): Hi Snowman! Happy Holidays to you. How are you today? (Shakes branch-hand.) I'm happy to meet you.

(As I arrive home from yoga): Hey, Mama's here! Hi, Mama! Do you want to come and have dinner with us? Go get your bib, then! It's all ready!

I think you have been a much more enjoyable person this past month, Gwen. You are still whiny and demanding at times, but this miraculous thing happened one day and the heavens opened up and filled your heart with knowledge and the following conversation took place:

Gwen: I WANT MY MILK!
Mama: What are you missing?
Gwen: My manners.

Mama (awed): Yes ... do you want to try again?

Gwen: Mama, can I have my milk please?

Mama: OH YES YOU CAN!

So now some variation of that conversation takes place a thousand times a day, but it is still worlds and worlds better than the previous demands, which were repeated often and never politely. Now when you forget your manners (nearly always), at least we know what to say to prompt you to get it right. This is immensely gratifying, and along with your new transition from "Hey" to "Excuse me", almost has you sounding like a human being. It's a real treat to see these little habits sinking in.

The one verbal habit we haven't figured out how to address yet is the whiny, "I don't WAAAANNNNNT to," or its twin, "But I WAAAANNNNNT to." In your world, this stands as a valid response to any command we issue or any demand we decline to meet. Logic is irrelevant in the face of these discussions, to wit: "I'm sorry, Gwen, we don't have any bananas," is met with "But I WAAAANNNNNT one." Repeated explanations of the utter lack of bananas only cause you to repeat your point with increasing volume and decreasing emotional stability. Or, if I say "Listen to Mama, please," you respond, "But I don't WAAAANNNNNT to." Barring long existential discussions about how we all must do things we don't want to do, I'm not sure how to deal with this problem yet.

You had a great Christmas this year, Gwen. On Christmas Eve, you dressed as an angel and took part in our church's pageant. At one point, the kindly narrator told about the shepherds hearing heavenly music from the angel choir. And then you burst into song. "Laaa, laa laaa laaaa la laa," you sang sweetly (and mostly tunelessly) from your vantage point near baby Jesus. It. Was. AWESOME. On Christmas morning, unlike every other kid in the world, you didn't really want to go downstairs to see what Santa had left. Instead of feeling excited, you felt quite shy and timid, and it took a lot of coaxing to get you to come down. You told us you would rather just have a time-out on the stairs. It just goes to show that you can still surprise me, Gwen.

Shortly after Christmas, we spent a harrowing but ultimately successful four days potty-training you. I predicted that you would love the independence brought by this step, and I was right. Nowadays when you have to go potty, you jump up from whatever you are doing and say, "I have to go potty!" Then when I jump up to come with you, you say, "NO, Mama, I do it all by myself! You go away!" And then, most maddening of all, you won't proceed on your path to the potty UNTIL I SIT BACK ON THE COUCH and make it clear that I have no intention to follow you. Meanwhile, convinced that your bladder is about to burst, I'm shouting, "RUN, Gwen! Run to the potty! GO!" But go you shall not until you are sure you can go alone.

On the other hand, it seems that sometimes you do want company while you're doing your business. Last week, you came out of your room in the morning and came into our bed for a brief snuggle before deciding, as is typical for you, that snuggling is boring. You then went into the bathroom, grabbed your potty, and brought it into our room before sitting down and ... well, doing what one does when on a potty. Right next to our bed. I ... I just can't explain that. It got us out of bed in a hurry, though.

Although you still love to watch Blue's Clues, you have now added Backyardigans to your TV-on-DVD repertoire. Your dad and I are really grateful to have something new to watch, and we love the music and the imaginary play modelled by this show. You have picked up a lot of sayings from the characters, like "Oh, for goodness' sake," and "Here goes nothing!" One thing I'm not a fan of in the show is that at the end of every episode, the characters all discuss going to someone's house for a snack. And you, like every other TV viewer out there, think that sounds like a good idea so you ask for a snack too. Regardless of the fact that you may have finished breakfast 30 seconds earlier, or that dinner is only a few minutes away, or that YOU ARE ACTUALLY CURRENTLY EATING WHILE YOU'RE WATCHING THE SHOW. No, you will insist, using the same phrases that the characters use, that you are hungry and need a snack. And oh, how hard done by you are when we do not agree!

We recently started your third round of swimming lessons - Sea Turtles. You are really enjoying your time at the pool and it's fascinating to me to see how competent you are becoming. I haven't actually taken you swimming since you finished your last round of lessons over a year ago, so you are a totally different kid now from who you were then. You are pretty fearless, which is no surprise, and it doesn't faze you too much when you get a mouthful of water. At our last lesson I had the awesome experience of watching you finally "get" how to blow bubbles. I know your Dad and I have been modelling this to you for years, in the pool or at the lake or in the bathtub, and it FINALLY clicked! It was so neat to watch your eyes light up as you blew those bubbles - you were so proud. I'm really glad that you are happy and confident in the water, and I PROMISE to take you to the pool more often.

Well, that's it for this month, Gwen. As always, I love you a million billion kajillion (and two) and look forward to what the next month will bring.

Love,

Mama

Friday Five

1. It really is awesome to have a potty-trained child. Arguably, we have traded one set of inconveniences for another: instead of leaving the house with diapers and wipes, we now leave with at least one change of underwear/pants, wipes, and a folding toilet seat. We also have to suggest (sometimes strongly) that Gwen use the potty before we leave home, daycare, Gramma’s, or anywhere else we happen to be. This still seems easier to me, and I am very happy not to have to change (or pay for) diapers anymore. This new regime has slipped rather easily into our routine, and I am really proud of Gwen and happy that we took on this onerous task.

2. I read this incredible book called The Total Money Makeover: A Proven Plan for Financial Fitness which was recommended by a dear friend of mine. Ever since reading it, I look at money in an entirely different way. It’s been very eye-opening and definitely not always pleasant. I encouraged Chris to read certain sections of it too and we are working on our own money makeover now (made slightly more challenging by the unemployment and the unknowns surrounding his EI eligibility, etc.). The way I look at it, the next 1-3 years are going to be incredibly hard for us no matter what we do. But if we take some positive steps during that time, we will be in a better situation than we were before this crisis.

3. On a related note, I spent about $800 last year on weight-loss products. That doesn’t count my gym membership, either. I don't regret any of that spending but I can't afford it anymore, so I am working on finding new (cheap or free) ways to deal with my disordered eating and my love of sitting above any other activity. I do not currently have a goal to lose weight or even fit into a particular outfit. I just need to feel like I am looking after myself, without spending a ridiculous amount of money to do so. I bought Just Dance 2 for the Wii on Boxing Day which I have been calling my “cheap gym membership”. From Dec 26 until Jan 11 I danced/worked out every single day, then I got that nasty cold and stopped, and of course I have not yet resumed. That’s a pretty short-lived habit, even for me. Like anyone else, sometimes I need to say things out loud/publically in order to stick with my commitments, so I might be putting some of that stuff here. Here’s what I’ve got so far: Starting immediately, I'm back to dancing 6 songs/day, 7 days/week. Starting January 24th I am going to add sit-ups. In the Spring, I will start walking to work at least twice a week. I am not ready to make any chocolate-related commitments yet but I can see possibly giving it up for Lent.

4. I am just about finished my “Psychology and the Mass Media” course and will soon be starting “Understanding Media Literacy”. Electives are fun, but challenging: social science courses require a completely different set of writing skills from that used for humanities courses, which is my major. (I have finished the core English requirements for my degree, so I have to take some different stuff for my last few courses.) My recent term paper was about the power of advertising: I got to analyze ten different ads of my choosing to determine what types of persuasion techniques were used. I choose to examine ads from a parenting magazine because guess what, I have a few of those lying around. The results were interesting (perhaps only to me) and can be summed up thus: advertisers will use any and all persuasion techniques available to sell their products through the exploitation of the parent-child relationship. You knew that already, though. My exam in this course is next Thursday, please wish me luck!

5. I still really love my new job, which isn’t all that new anymore since I have been here for 10 months. For a long time I didn’t want to write or talk about anything negative about my job because it was so much hype and upheaval and hand-wringing to come to this position from my last one, and I thought any negativity would be met by “I thought this was your dream job?!” But I’ve now come to realize, even in your dream job there are bad days. And those bad days don’t make it any less your dream job. Kind of like how fighting with your partner doesn’t automatically mean you’re in a doomed relationship or that you don’t love that person. Unfortunately, lately there have been several bad work days close together, and that has not been very enjoyable. The weird thing is that despite the badness, I really do love this job.

Gwenisms

A plastic hoop that you twirl around your waist is called a hoop-a-loop.

A rope that you use for jumping is called a jump-a-rope.

Something you crawl through, and which trains also go through, is called a tuttle.

The list of ingredients and instructions for making cookies is called a rest-a-pee.

An musical instrument that has a lot of black and white keys is called a pee-nano.

Another musical instrument with different holes that you blow into is called a monica.

A delicious pasta dinner is called noonles.

The meal you eat in the morning is called bre-fikt.

A wonderful place with slides and swings is called a paingond.

A place you go to learn about history and space and dinosaurs is called a mus-amm.

We live in a country called Candada.

The things you hang on the Christmas tree are ordamints.

The white fluffy things that fall from the sky in winter are snow-flacks.