A True Parenting Conversation

Bill: Zoë pooped on the potty by herself today.

Me: Really?

Bill: Yeah she was hiding and I suggested she go on the potty and and she just kept yelling at me “don’t bother me.”

Me:  So then she came to get you?

Bill:  She walked out naked from the bathroom and I asked her where her pull-up was and she said she threw it away and went on the potty.

Me:  Good.

Bill:  I didn’t actually see her do it though. (a bit hesitant and skeptical maybe)

Me: Did you look in the trash can to see if her pull-up was full of crap?

Bill:  Yeah and it wasn’t.  I guess it could have fallen out somewhere on the floor when she took her pull-up off.  I didn’t really look around.

So, there could be a random pile of crap somewhere in the house.  I do highly doubt it, as Zoë is really good about telling on herself.  Looks like we might be getting closer to the whole no more pull-up thing.

The Dictionary Of A Four-Year-Old

There is nothing cuter than when kids create their own words based on what they linguistically “know” about their language.

At school, Noah and his BFF Sophie play duck-duck-goose.  When you’re four you can have fun playing the game with only one other person.  They also play with other friends as well.  Noah was telling me about his turn:

Noah:  So, when I was the ducker…

Me:  The what?

Noah: The ducker.

Me:  What’s the ducker?

Noah: You don’t know how to play duck-duck-goose?

Me: Of course. It was one of my favorite games.

Noah:  Were you never the ducker?

Me: What is the ducker?

Noah: The one who hits the people on the head and says duck, duck, duck and gets to say goose.

Me:  Why isn’t it called the gooser?

Noah: That doesn’t make sense.

Of course not.  Last night we played simon says.

Bill: okay we are done, time for pajamas

Noah: No.  It’s my turn to be the simoner.

Me: The what?

Noah: the simoner.

Me: UH?

Noah:  Dad, I don’t think mom knows how to play.

Bill:  It’s your turn Noah to be the simoner.

Now I know here he gets it.

Sometimes Being The Parent Sucks

There are so many things that get omitted from the parenting brochure.  I’m sure those omission are unintentional (or there just isn’t enough space to put all the crappy stuff so they don’t include any–just to be fair).  I don’t know if I wrote about this last year–I thought I did but I can’t find it anywhere.  There were a few instances last year at school with one student around–how do I say this–curiosity.  That’s a simple way of putting it.  A couple of those instances also involved Noah.  We talked a great deal with Noah about those issues and what is appropriate behavior and what isn’t.  Not that this important (to me it is), but the curiosity was not initiated by Noah–Yeah I’m a bad parent but I do take some comfort in knowing that it wasn’t my kid’s idea.

I thought we had moved past this, but yesterday I get pulled aside at pick-up and told about another event.  I was angry, hurt, sad, and so confused.  I know that it is natural to be curious.  I am less worried about the being curious than I am my son’s behavior of not telling his friends no.  This has been a bit of an issue for Noah.  He has these great social skills and is very kind, helpful and friendly.  The problem is that he is a bit of a follower.  By follower I mean that he thinks it isn’t being a good friend if he doesn’t do what another friend wants to–fight, say something mean, be slightly inappropriate.  This worries me that he isn’t to the place where is will stand up and make the decision for himself.  He tells us everything and I don’t want that to change, so we don’t get angry at him or punish him in any significant way when he is honest with us.  I don’t want him to think he can’t tell us.  That openness is more important to me than punishing him.

He’ll tell us that he did something and I’ll say you didn’t have to do that and he’ll say “yeah, X said to.”  I’ll say that you are your own boss and you don’t have to and he’ll reply, “but he’s my friend.”  I am scared, because if he is this easily influenced now, what happens when X wants to steal a car or rob a bank or something way worse?

I am working with his teachers and have requested that they encourage Noah to make better friend choices and that they also reinforce that being a good friend doesn’t mean doing anything a friend suggests.  It is hard because we tell him to do what his friends want in some ways–I know he is getting mixed messages and doesn’t quite know how to process them all–when he talked about how S was mad at him because he wanted to play superheroes and she wanted to play picnic and I told him that sometimes you should play what S wants to because that is what friends do.  Then I tell him it isn’t what friends do.

I take some small solace in his knowing what he did was wrong and that he shouldn’t do it.  I just don’t know.  I don’t want him playing with this boy anymore.  This boy was a child I had hoped wouldn’t be returning to school.  I am worried for my son and I feel so helpless.

On a brighter note.  Zoë is absolutely hysterical.  We went for a walk around the block–Noah rode his bike and Zoë pushed her stroller.  She was running on the side walk pushing the stroller (because she still very rarely actually walks) and asked if she could run in the grass, I said sure–run where ever.  She starts to run in the grass.  Stops and declares, “This is too grassery for running.”  It was just the laugh I needed.  So, in case you needed to know–grass is too grassery for running while pushing a stroller.

The Rules–Two-Year-Old Style

Zoë is fascinated and completed concerned with rules. She is always asking to make sure something is okay, “Mom can I talk with gum in my mouth?” I say “yes.” Then immediately she must ask the same question of her dad and sometimes Noah if it appears he might be an authority on the activity in question. Zoë certainly has a very white and black view of the world of rules and how they operate. Here are a few of her favorites that I am finding I must abide by or experience the wrath of the two-year-old.

1. You can’t kiss food in your mouth
2. You can’t talk with food in your mouth (often said with food in her mouth)
3. You can’t put that in your mouth–said when I hold my keys, hair tie, phone, etc in my mouth.
4. Don’t snap when you drive, it’s dangerous
5. You can’t eat when you drive, it’s dangerous
6. You can’t leave your shoes in the living room
7. You can’t do that, this or the other thing

But my all time favorite two-year-old rule is…

You can’t talk to me when i’m pooping (often said in ALL CAPS).

Today, In My Car, I Cried

I was listening to Dan Savage on Tell Me More on NPR talk about his project-It does get better project on youtube

I cried for the families who have lost children who felt that as  teens nothing in life was worth living for.  I cried for the parents who try to help their children but don’t know how and can’t get in.  I cried for a society that values one group over another.  I cried for the regret they dead carry into the afterlife.  I cried for my children who will experience discrimination that I cannot even pretend to understand.

I cried tears of joy that I was not a statistic.  I had a dark period in high school that stemmed from a date rape incident (at the time way back in the 80’s this wasn’t a term).  I was alone and put on a brave front, but inside I was slowly dying. I didn’t think I could talk to my parents, I didn’t know what to say to my friends or how to say it.  I didn’t want to be whispered about.  I turned to alcohol and dangerous sexual encounters to try to fill the whole that was my self-esteem and self-worth.  I was lost.  I wrote dark (and bad) poetry about death and not wanting to live.  I shared that and I had a friend who helped me.  I don’t remember any more what she said to me, but I know it took death off the table.

I was certainly not fixed or whole at this point, but I knew in that moment that even if I didn’t know how to value or love myself, someone else did.  That is what got me through.  You can’t fix the despair, heartache, loneliness or self-hatred that someone feels, but you can show them they are lovable and valued.  Sometimes that is enough.  It does get better. Not right away and sometimes not for a long time. It took me nearly 13 years to recover from my date rape incident and I still don’t love myself as much as I could.  I still don’t have the confidence in myself the way I should.  But it is better.

Today, in my car, I cried.  Tears of sadness, love and hope.  I have hope.