Namaste, Out the Road Blog

Dear All,

Well, it's been a frustrating morning here at the Arias household and I can in part blame myself, as I choose to stay up late watching the Oscars last night. So, this morning finds me a bit sleep-deprived and probably less patient than I might otherwise be. And patience is not just a virtue but a necessity when it comes to caring for my active, 18-month old. Let me give you a taste of what this morning has been like . . .

Over the weekend I'd started bemoaning the fact that this is now my last full week of leave from work (I go back to work fulltime on March 5). In part I bemoan the return to work because I know it will make my schedule very tight on weekdays, but also I was starting to be sad about not having the time to spend with my daughter that I currently enjoy. I've worked long and hard to bring my little girl home and this last week of leave is one of the infrequent opportunities I have to spend uninterrupted time with her. So, I decided that instead of taking her to daycare today, I would keep her home to enjoy time with her, and perhaps make a visit to the Atlanta Zoo, which I've been meaning to do with her since we got home.

These tender thoughts and plans have run head first into the reality of what it means to parent an 18 month old. The thing is that, a child of Ellie's age pretty much wants someone's attention at all times. That makes it pretty hard to do even the minimal things that are required in life, such as showering, dressing, eating, putting on shoes, etc. Doing each of these tasks becomes a juggling act of trying to keep the child out of trouble and entertained, while at the same time trying to do the task at hand. So, as an example, while I'm in my very small half-bathroom putting on scant make-up and combing my hair, Ellie is underfoot, ever in danger of banging her head on the edge of the pedestal sink, trying to roll the rolling cart with my face and hair products out of the bathroom, trying to push the trashcan off the lid of the toilet (which is where I've had to put it because if it's left on the ground, as most trashcans are and should be, she is immediately in there getting out every disgusting and dirty thing that you can imagine might go into a bathroom trashcan). So, while I'm getting my face on and combing my hair, I have to constantly fend off little hands or pacify a fussy child who wants to see or do everything that I'm doing (e.g., I'm combing my hair, so I have to go fetch her comb from its spot in the bigger bathroom, I'm brushing my teeth, so she starts to whine until I go get her toothbrush from the other bathroom, I'm putting on face creme, so I have to pretend to dab some on her face).

In reality, I've learned to navigate these rituals pretty well these days, but sometimes it occurs to me that being a parent is not just about making the best of things with a fussy child, but also about starting to teach that child to be a civilized human being. So, for instance, the last two days I've started to take the tact with Ellie that it's just too small in my little half bathroom for her to be in there, underfoot, while I'm getting ready. She can play or stand and watch from my bedroom, literally just 2 - 3 feet away from me, and it's a much safer (for Ellie), less stressful (for Mommy) scenario. For some reason, however, this arrangement is not satisfactory from her perspective and results in a tears and a tantrum.

Another thing I'm trying to do by way of teaching Ellie to be a more civilized little girl is that when she makes a mess, especially if it's clearly not by accident, I ask that she sit or stand by me and sort of help clean it up. In truth, she's not really much help to me in the cleaning or straightening process, but the point is to teach her that behaviors have consequences. If she pulls all the plastic garbage bags out of the box, then she has to pick them up and put them back in the box. (Again, I really wind up doing this for the most part, as she's not coordinated enough at her age to be very effective, but I think she gets the idea.) If she takes the cat's dry food and spills it on the kitchen floor, then she has to help pick up the food. If she takes all her plates and cups of the pantry shelf and throws them on the ground, she has to help put them away. (I should add, all three of these occurred this morning, along with various other messes that Mommy went ahead and cleaned up on her own, just for efficiency's sake.) Sometimes Ellie actually takes the high road on these consequences, seeming to be okay with the task of cleaning up and putting away. Other times, it produces tears and a tantrum.

One consequence that I hope she learned well this morning is that if you eat stuff that you shouldn't it can make you sick. She came into my bathroom at some point shortly after I'd emptied the Dustbuster vacumn into the tall kitchen garbage can. Well, let me back up a bit . . . Earlier in the morning, I had made the mistake of bringing into the house a large purple ball that is normally kept on the porch. I had gone outside to take some recycling to the bins and she was starting to pitch a fit because I wouldn't let her stay on the porch, so I brought the ball inside to pacify her. Well, she sometime later she threw the ball over the gate at the entrance to my office, which is also where my cat Penny's food is kept, and for the second time that morning managed to knock over and spill all the cat food. The first time I had gotten down on my knees, and had her do likewise, to pick up the food piece by piece and put it back in the bowl. This time, however, because it had been an accident on her part and because I was the one to blame, really, for bringing the ball inside to begin with, I decided just to clean the mess up quick and easy with the Dustbuster. So, back to the story . . . following the whole cat food episode, I was in my bathroom and Ellie comes in sort of coughing and I realize that she is trying to get something out of her mouth. However, I don't see anything obvious in her mouth, so I don't know how to help her. She's not choking, but rather just seems to be irritated by something she has apparently tried to swallow. She continues coughing and eventually, yep, throws up on her clothes and one of her shoes and the bathroom floor. My suspicious is that she saw me dump the Dustbuster in the kitchen garbage can, got curious as to what I'd just done, and opened the garbage can lid and put her hand in there. I've seen her do precisely this many times and I always say, blech, dirty, stay out of the trash can. But, as toddler's tend to do, she insists on defying me on this. In fact, except for my own bathroom trash can, which again I've had to raise off the ground to keep it (more or less) out of her reach, I've had to stop using or perpetually keep emptying my small trash cans around the house because she loves to muck around in them. Unfortunately, the kitchen garbage can does not lend itself to this and it's actually quite large and so she usually can't get into too much trouble with the trash that's in there, unless the bag is starting to get full so that she can reach the stuff on top . . . which is what I think happened today . . . which is why, on top of all the other clean ups of the morning, I then had to clean throw-up off the bathroom floor, had to change her clothes and shoes, and had to put yet another wash cloth and my bathroom hand towel in the dirty laundry hamper.

At a very nice shower this weekend, that was thrown for Ellie and me by Andy's boss and his wife, I was mentioning to a stay-at-home mom of two young boys that, after taking care of Ellie these past several weeks, I have a new-found respect for stay-at-home moms. In my view, going to work in an office environment each day is much easier than taking care of a child Ellie's age, while at the same time trying to do even the minimal things that one does while at home (bathing, eating, minor tidying up, laundry). In their more candid moments, most moms I've talked to about parenting toddlers all confess that it is a wearying job. Yes, they are cute, and, yes, they are dearly loved -- I have gotten into the habit of going into my daughter's room each night when she's asleep, just to look at her and bask in my love for her -- and , yes, most people go into parenting knowing that it entails sacrifices of sleep, privacy, leisure time, and money. But even so, there are times when the job of parenting a toddler requires a couple of extra cups of coffee, a few extra deep breaths, and a bit of venting, just to get ready for whatever post-nap-time brings!

Love,
PA