On putting a two year old to bed.
S: I close the door from the inside, so she can't just get up and wander around.
M: I close the door from the outside. Then I go downstairs and pour myself a scotch. After a while, either the knocking diminishes, or I knock back enough so that I can't hear it. I feel like it's basically two sides of the same coin.
Other things
I'd forgotten how useless it can be to lack milk ducts. I'm walking around with this semi-squealing, (he's really quite good) child wondering how I can help him, and then I realize that he has only one desire: milk. And I feel helpless and philosophical, and wonder what it would be like to live with so strong a desire for one thing.
On parenting two and taken from a conversation with a friend about the difficulty of explaining a new sibling to a toddler. "It's like they start to realize how annoying it can be to have someone in the house who cries all the time, yet the fail to grasp the irony of that."
The Renaissance
I'd also forgotten how having a newborn child is like constantly living in the Renaissance. This is primarily because Julian and I sit around talking about the rise of humanism and about how best to grind lenses for viewing the moon, however, since he's a few days old we have to take frequent breaks because he needs to nap about 18 hours a day. Anyhow, the other fact is that your bedroom suddenly turns into an Italian art exhibition with mother Mary taking care of her newborn infant. Then I go downstairs and demand a joust with Sadie, which usually ends with me putting on some Carly Rae Jeppsen and having a dance off instead, because you have to be flexibly as a parent, and that means you don't always get an honest joust when you'd like one.
On Parenting in General
It's easier than it looks. I'd encourage everyone to adopt my kids. I jest. I was trying to get lil S ready for bed a couple of weeks ago when she decided that she wanted to take her diaper off. I allowed it, but I told her that anytime we have our diaper off it is required that we sit on the toilet. She dutifully sat on the toilet for a while before sprinting into our bedroom and trying to jump on the bed for what I can only assume would be a giant pee. However, I coaxed her back to bed, reminding her that if our pants are off we need to be on the toilet. It's a good rule of thumb.
Anyhow, the day passes by, and, as I'm getting her ready for bed I got off to do a few things and when I come back into her room she's naked again. "Sadie," I said, "what did I tell you about being naked." At which point she pulled a palm-sized toilet out from underneath her that she'd taken from her doll house. I couldn't argue with the logic, but I wasn't sure my message had sunk in. This is parenting.
S: I close the door from the inside, so she can't just get up and wander around.
M: I close the door from the outside. Then I go downstairs and pour myself a scotch. After a while, either the knocking diminishes, or I knock back enough so that I can't hear it. I feel like it's basically two sides of the same coin.
Other things
I'd forgotten how useless it can be to lack milk ducts. I'm walking around with this semi-squealing, (he's really quite good) child wondering how I can help him, and then I realize that he has only one desire: milk. And I feel helpless and philosophical, and wonder what it would be like to live with so strong a desire for one thing.
On parenting two and taken from a conversation with a friend about the difficulty of explaining a new sibling to a toddler. "It's like they start to realize how annoying it can be to have someone in the house who cries all the time, yet the fail to grasp the irony of that."
The Renaissance
I'd also forgotten how having a newborn child is like constantly living in the Renaissance. This is primarily because Julian and I sit around talking about the rise of humanism and about how best to grind lenses for viewing the moon, however, since he's a few days old we have to take frequent breaks because he needs to nap about 18 hours a day. Anyhow, the other fact is that your bedroom suddenly turns into an Italian art exhibition with mother Mary taking care of her newborn infant. Then I go downstairs and demand a joust with Sadie, which usually ends with me putting on some Carly Rae Jeppsen and having a dance off instead, because you have to be flexibly as a parent, and that means you don't always get an honest joust when you'd like one.
On Parenting in General
It's easier than it looks. I'd encourage everyone to adopt my kids. I jest. I was trying to get lil S ready for bed a couple of weeks ago when she decided that she wanted to take her diaper off. I allowed it, but I told her that anytime we have our diaper off it is required that we sit on the toilet. She dutifully sat on the toilet for a while before sprinting into our bedroom and trying to jump on the bed for what I can only assume would be a giant pee. However, I coaxed her back to bed, reminding her that if our pants are off we need to be on the toilet. It's a good rule of thumb.
Anyhow, the day passes by, and, as I'm getting her ready for bed I got off to do a few things and when I come back into her room she's naked again. "Sadie," I said, "what did I tell you about being naked." At which point she pulled a palm-sized toilet out from underneath her that she'd taken from her doll house. I couldn't argue with the logic, but I wasn't sure my message had sunk in. This is parenting.
thank you for your insight and sense of humor
ReplyDeletewhen you say joust i assume that is not literal but rather a joust of thoughts,sounds,voices,
or mental intrigue???
No, he means where he pokes her and she pokes back until he cries. Or they both cry.
ReplyDelete