Positive Parenting

Eight.

Eight is the amount of times that we chased our baby toddler out of her big sister's bed last night and back into her own. This occurred well after eight O'Clock in the evening. This was not fun.

Maybe it's summer fever.

I read all the books, all the magazines, all the just-be-firm-and-say-it-positively articles and I try to put them into practice. My latest adventure has been trying to word things in a positive way, as in "Rivka sleeps in Rivka's bed," with a big fake smile, rather than the negative, teeth-clenched version, which sounds like "DONOTGOINTOCHAYA'SBED!"

So I tried to concentrate on my wording the other day.

I walked into Rivka's room (on grounds of suspicious silence) and found that every single book was removed from the book shelf and several had already undergone her rehabilitation efforts. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and carefully said:

"Rivka. Books are for reading. We treat books nicely. We read books and turn pages of books and we are so gentle with books."

When I opened my eyes she was in the kitchen, self-selecting snacks from the pantry.

So I tried again at bedtime.

"Rivka. I see that you are very excited (acknowledge her feelings). Bedtime is for sleeping (state the rule). I would like to see you lay down now (state the objective). It appears that you disagree with me (state the obvious). STOP JUMPING (give up.)

There is only one magical word that can stop Rivka mid-action and I (try to) use it sparingly.

That word is: raw.  She has seen my dramatic, full-fledged horrified panic when she once reached out to touch raw chicken and has been cured from ever attempting to touch something labeled "raw" (salmonella, hello!).

So far the disgusting water fountain at the park, the bucket of rain water near the front lawn, and the filter on the air conditioner have all tested positively for raw.

Any chance I can make her sister's bed turn raw at 7:00pm?

#MotherlyLies

By the way, this is what reasoning looks like when your toddler spent most of the night jumping out of bed.
Not to be confused with what reasoning looks like with a toddler at any time. 

Twenty-Four

Somewhere between I Can't Believe This and Finally, my baby is turning two. Thankfully I don't feel like I've just given birth yesterday but it still seems entirely too soon for a second birthday.

Twenty four months.

It's been twenty-four months since she was born, a rainy Friday morning. Months since we brought her home only hours later that afternoon. Months since we introduced her to her older sister, who was wholly unimpressed with our decision to create this new addition. Months since postpartum depression caught me like the plague and threatened to never let go. Months since I came out of the fog, smiled with my baby's smile, laughed with her first laugh, squealed and cheered on her first crawls, and full-out jigged when she began to walk (spoiler alert: rapidly progresses from wobbly to dangerously quicker than Mommy.)

Tonight my husband and I are sitting and reminiscing about time gone by. As we talk, it becomes painfully obvious that my memory has been significantly damaged by pregnancy, childbirth, and an unnatural amount of night feedings. (Sorry but there's nothing natural about feeding another human being when I'm supposed to be sleeping.)

It's hard to think that these Mommy Brains of mine might not remember all the things I love about my little girl. So here are twenty-four of them that I never want to forget:

1. The way she climbs out of her crib in the morning and barrels straight out of her room like a cannon.
2. The way she calls me "Mama" in a baby voice, when she needs me to melt. 
3. The way she refuses to separate apples from other fruits. Mommy, I want one apple-pear.
4. The way she throws in extra consonants into long words. Mommy, I want a banalanalalana.
5. The way she eats yogurt with her hands.
6. The way she brushes her hair with the bristles facing out. 
7. The way she swallows the (fluoride-free; relax) toothpaste and then spits out saliva. 
8. The way she runs, by kicking her feet forward and bouncing on the heels of her shoes.
9. The way she smiles for a picture, by tilting her head and blinking rapidly.
10. The way she jumps off ledges without looking and then runs frightened from strangers.
11. The way she says "eweven." It comes after ten.
12. The way she beckons with her tiny little hands when she wants you to follow.
13. The way she bellows "SHHH!" when she's hiding.
14. The way she cheers for her accomplishments. Even the ones that follow my desperate cry of "No!" Like when she jumps off the back of the couch. Or swings off the table. 
15. The way she wiggles all of her fingers when she tries to hold up just two.
16. The way she holds out her hand and says, "Stop!" when you're going too fast. 
17. The way she pronounces her name as Rishka.
18. The way she sings Happy Birthday to herself nearly every morning.
19. The way she swings off the counters and climbs onto nearly any surface. 
20. The way she opens the refrigerator and helps herself to its contents. 
21. The way she puts soggy cereal back in the box when she's decided she's had enough.
22. The way she puts her face directly into mine when she wants my attention.
23. The way she watches men working out in the park and then proceeds to work out with them. 
24. And G-d knows why, but the way we found her in her crib tonight. Sleeping peacefully in her birthday suit.

The hours between 4:30 and 6:30 every night feel like an eternity each time around, but somehow it is still hard to believe that all this time has passed.

Happy Birthday Rivka! 

Here's to another year.

Full throttle. 

Living-In-Brooklyn Milestones

I Killed a Cockroach Before Breakfast and Other Living-In-Brooklyn Milestones

Table of Contempts

Chapter 1: Parking Tickets are Part of my Monthly Budget.
Chapter 2: I Refuse to Watch Ratatouille.
Chapter 3: I Don't Really Know the Difference Between the Upper and Lower Ends of Manhattan. But I Can Tell You Which Trains to Take.
Chapter 4: I Pay More for Rent Than I Do For...Anything.
Chapter 5: Cement + Swingset = Park.
Chapter 6: Pigeons are Only Afraid of People in Other Cities.
Chapter 7: Um...Sure, New Yorkers Have a Real Inclination for Ice Cream at 3:00am.
Chapter 8: Brooklyn Mice can Outsmart Mouse Traps.
Chapter 9: What Sun?
Chapter 10: I Killed a Cockroach Before Breakfast.

But I told my kids that the Raid just put him to sleep. Cockroaches don't belong in our house, I told them, so I'm putting him to sleep and putting him in the garbage. And then the garbage truck will take him to where he is supposed to live.

I didn't want to pass on my cockroach fears. So we all said hi to the dead sleeping cockroach.

And now my toddler looks for cockroaches every morning. Her face lights up as she imagines saying hello to her friend with the ugly, huge, ugly, huge, and also ugly, antennas. I tried explaining that the cockroach only came around because the kitchen floor had been partially taken out to be fixed.

She's still looking for the cockroach.

Should I be proud that I am raising open-minded children with an appreciation for nature?

Or recognize that I have created a monster.

Pass the Raid wine.

Conscious UnPesaching

On Friday afternoon my daughter walked into the house with a chocolate wafer that she received at a party in school.

"I have to eat this over the garbage," she said.

I looked at her. And laughed.

"Not in this house, you don't. This place isn't a drop ready for Pesach, kiddo. You can eat that where you stand!"

It appears that I was so busy worrying over the past  few weeks (as well as working and studying for finals), that I never actually got around to cleaning the house. Which is nice. A very wise woman told me that Pesach is only one week long (give or take), so we don't need to stretch it any longer. That sounds healthy.

And so, it is with this in mind that I inform you of my decision to Consciously Unpesach.

Conscious Unpesaching

It is with a heart full of relief and a tiny drop of apprehension that I have decided to push off Pesach preparations. I have been working hard for well over a few weeks to see what might have been possible with regard to cleaning and cooking and the conclusion is that too much organization isn't healthy. And so while one part of my home is ready, the rest remains carefree and crumbful. I am first and foremost mother to two adorable, rambunctious, walking-chometz little girls who do not have school for the next few weeks. It is my greatest wish to keep them happy and my greatest hope that the rain will go away, the sun will come out, and the park will save us.


Ps. Of course I'm going to change my mind later today.
Pps. But I'm serious about the rain thing.

#6DaysUntilPassover

My Favorite (Pesach) Things

Torching the counters till chometz is smitten

New water kettles and new oven mittens

Brown paper matzah bags tied up with string

This is why Pesach makes my head ring

Idaho potatoes but no apple strudel

Chicken and veggies, no shnitzel, no noodles

Wild kids that miss all their chometzdik things

This is why Pesach makes my head ring

Girls need new dresses, my bank needs more stashes

Searching for chometz, burn it to ashes

Thankfully wine to the seder we bring

This is why Pesach makes my head ring

When the cleaning lady, calls to cancel

And the job becomes mine

I simply remember my chocolate bars

And then I don't even whine...

Sorta.

#25DaysUntilPassover

(Adapted from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3aBB-J9vhg)

Let the Countdown Begin

On Shabbos afternoon my daughter and I make our way to the home of my wise eldest brother and his also wise, super-organized wife. We are going over to say hi. Also, I want a sneak peek at her Pesach lists.

This year will be the first year that I make Pesach. And I don't even know what the term "make Pesach" really means. Which should give you an idea of the compassionate head shaking my brother and sister-in-law engage in as I ask my newbie questions.

"Okay, guys, so should I be freaking out? 'Cause I feel really calm about this and I'm guessing that it might be because I don't know what I'm getting myself into."

They smile at me. My sister-in-law says, "There's no reason to panic. I have all these lists prepared and you can adapt them to what you will need. Here is the cleaning schedule that I follow, the shopping list with the amounts that work for our family, and the cooking schedule."

My heart rate increases significantly. "Wait, there's shopping, cleaning AND cooking?"

My brother looks at my quizzically, "Are you wheezing?" he asks. I deny the allegations. I am not wheezing. I am so totally fine with this. I laugh.

"Of COURSE there is shopping, cleaning, and cooking, guys! I was just kidding around. Okay, so let's talk about the food for a second here. Where do you buy everything? Wait, where do you KEEP everything? I don't have space in my house for boxes of fruits and vegetables! Should I keep them on the porch? No, I can't keep them on the porch. Where do you put your food on Pesach? What am I going to do? I need a garage like my mother has! She puts her boxes of fruits and vegetables in the cool garage and then she doesn't have to -----"

"CALM. DOWN."

I nod meekly. Out of the corner of my watering eye I can see my brother searching for an inhaler or a paper bag. I wave the gesture away. I am so totally fine with this.

My sister-in-law reminds me that I live in a place with plenty of Kosher L'Pesach stores. I do not have to stock up beforehand on all the food we will eat for an entire week.

Oh.

"Oh thank goodness guys, this is going to be much easier than I thought. I don't really have to do any shopping in advance now, right?" I think my sister-in-law is holding her head in her hands now but it's hard to see because my eyes are starting to roll back into my head.

They're kind to me, my family. And this is going to be so totally fine.

And probably I was just tired that day. Because I am not panicking about this holiday. I can clean my house, right? And what's so difficult about buying a few new appliances? And the cooking...I mean, I can manage to whip up fruit-meat-nut-egg-chicken-potato smoothies for 8 days, right?

Let the countdown begin. #36DaysUntilPassover

Not-As-Possible Ideas

I read the Parenting magazine religiously. And when I find something that sounds smart, I dog-ear the page so that I can review it and memorize the plan for later.

Sometimes, though, when later comes around I wonder why I even thought the advice was sound. Or possible.

Take this one for example. I recently read about the cure for cranky kids at the grocery store. The author wrote all sorts of sensible things like "don't go shopping when your kids are tired," and "make a list so you aren't walking around aimlessly."

Both sound. Both possible.

But then the author went on to describe her transforming shopping experience with her in-need-of-reform toddler. She brought a snack with her. She warned him that meltdowns would not be tolerated. She was calm and firm and perfectly not stressed. She followed her organized-by-aisles list. And when she arrived at the snack aisle with a nearly full cart and Junior started to scream about the treat that he wanted, she calmly took him out of the store and with her her perfectly not stressed voice she told him that shopping was over until he was ready to behave appropriately.

I closed my eyes and imagined how that could be translated into my own life.

1. Snack would be finished before we got to the store.

2. Walking through the aisles would remind me of all the food that we need and I would want to buy it on account of we need it.

3. I would probably get yelled at for leaving a nearly full cart in the store.

4. I would probably be shopping with both kids, in which case one of them would definitely need the bathroom at the time the other one started The Tantrum.

5. Reflecting upon the earlier issue of needing the food in my house (incidentally, the original motivation for shopping with my kids) I would not be able to leave the food behind in my cart in the store because if I did I wouldn't be able to get the food into my house.

6. I would go back in the store, get a new cart (since an annoyed employee would have already emptied mine), and start over at the snack aisle, in which I would buy my kid a snack. And then run through the rest of the aisles like I was in a marathon. And I would plan not to bring a snack to the store next time. And I would instead buy a snack for my kid at the start of the shopping experience. Because unless I missed something here, the original plan was to have the child eat during shopping (no judgement, I get hungry when I shop, too) and the food that the child would be eating would be food that I had purchased at a previous time. So what's the harm in buying food at the store at the actual time that I'm in the store to buy food?

7. Most likely, however, I would buy a snack for all of us.

And so, my friends, if you find that pages of the magazines in my house are missing corners, it's because I couldn't smooth out the dog-ear crease.

And know that those are the pages with not-as-possible ideas.

Here's my advice: it IS okay to let her shop in a princess costume.