Davis Family Update

This house is clean

From Wednesday to Saturday, our child was overtaken by Hand, Foot & Mouth disease. For those of you not in the know, this is a virus which makes your child feverish, unable to eat or drink due to the blisters in their mouth, and damn near inconsolable. We have come out from the other side of this traumatic event with a realization. While I have immense amounts of patience when our peanut is healthy, I am pretty useless when she is sick. I can fairly easily tolerate the disturbance during our dinners out, her struggles to get back into her carseat, her tests of independence. My not being present enough during the really tough times doesn't make me feel too good about myself as a mom, but there it is. I do not seem to have the stamina to walk my child up and down the hallway 50 times. I do not have the patience for a screaming child who flails her body this way and that because she really doesn't know what she wants. I am extremely lucky that my husband does have the energy to hold her for hours at a time and that her screams just roll off him like nothing while my stomach is in knots and my heart is racing. And it does make me feel somewhat better that I can intercede during the normal toddler battles when my husband is losing ground. It is a nice symmetry in fact.

Is this so wrong?

We are delving deeper into the "Terrible Twos". The peanut is becoming more emphatic about what she wants and does not want. However, I have stumbled upon a secret weapon, a chink in the armor as it were. (Yes, I know. You would think a 30-something human being could easily control a 1-something human being. Not so.) Ok, so here's the trick...Any time our short-stack proceeds to do something undesirable or refuses to step in line, I...

You are just dying to know, aren't you?

Pretend to cry. I SWEAR! That's it. I scrunch up my face and make a few fake crying sounds and voila! Instant compliance. Why is this so I really don't know. Aren't the younger set supposed to be completely egocentric. I know I was until around 30.

OK, so the question is now that I have discovered this gem of Mom-upmanship, is it really so wrong to play my child's emotions this way? What if I only promise to do it only once a day?

Freeze!

Dear Sophia,

I have heard from many people that parenting is the hardest job you will ever know. Yes, it takes a lot of patience. Yes, it can be very draining. Yes, your time is really no longer your own. But this is not really the hardest part of it all. The most difficult part of parenting is letting go.

Last night I looked on as you and your big sister took a bath together. The sheer joy on your face as you splashed, screamed, and copied everything your big sister did was the most amazing thing to watch. I wanted to take that moment and freeze it right then and there. I wanted you to always have this look of happiness and innocence. I wanted to prevent you from experiencing the stinging comments of your peers as you enter school, the pain of your first break-up, the pressure to fit in and try things you aren't comfortable doing. I wanted to save you from the realization that not all people will care as deeply about you as I do. I wanted keep you from having to grow up in a world where people are fighting over religious convictions, government officials are leading people astray, and politicians and corporations are choosing not to preserve our environment for you and your children. At that moment, I wanted to keep you safe. Not being able to do that is clearly the most difficult hurdle a parent must face.

However, at that moment could you tell as you looked into my eyes how incredibly proud I am of you? Could you see the love I have for you radiating from my face? My hope is that you will freeze each of those moments and those moments will guide you through. Because I must let you go, it is the best I can do.

Love,
Mom

Five Years Ago Today

It is a beautiful, warm sunny day today. Much like the day our security blanket was pulled out from under us five years ago. I think CityMama expressed things beautifully in her post yesterday. I wish my daughter did not have to grow up with this kind of fear and religious extremism either. One can only hope that in her lifetime the pendulum will begin to swing back in the other direction (as it always does).

What did you call me?

Saturday we were sitting at the table having breakfast. Sophia kept saying something that began with "F". No, not what you are thinking.

"Fork, honey? Do you want your fork?"
"Frah"
"What?"
"Frah"
"Wait a minute! Are you calling me Fran?"
"Frah!"
"Oh no you don't! I am Mommy!"
"Frah!"

Now I know I should expect this kind of thing when my little pip turns into a pipply-faced, emotional teenager, but at 21 months! Come on!

I am not Fran. I am Mommy. I am the person who suffered with back pain for the first few months I carried you around in my stomach.

I am not Fran. I am Mommy. I am the person who had to grit my teeth while you breastfeed from an inflamed, infected boob.

I am not Fran. I am Mommy. I am the person who comes running into your room at the wee hours of the night to comfort and cuddle you until you feel safe enough to go back to sleep.

I am not Fran. I am Mommy. I am the person who must carry you on my hip constantly through out the day or you would cling to my leg screaming "Uppa!! Uppa!"

Hmmmpppfff. Enough said.

Home Alone...with Daddy

Yup. Today the peanut is off from school and home with Daddy while I sit here at work because I only have 10 days off per year. Ten freakin' days! My child and I swap enough germs back and forth over the year to use up most of those ten precious days recovering at home. So here I sit in my 10 x 10 cube wishing I was home. <sigh> Although this did help to cheer me up for a few minutes.