"I like purple," says Evie at least once a day. More often than not it's more like 20. She first announced this decision on Christmas morning when she opened up a pair of legwarmers knit by Aunt Becca that fortunately had purple on them. She then got excited to open a gift from Donna that included a purple hat and mittens. And then a purple shirt from Aunt Rosemary. And finally a purple dress from Nana. How did the girl ever get so lucky? And how could I be apparently so clueless that this was her favorite color until she proclaimed it? I never noticed that I apparently have stacked her wardrobe with a very limited array of purple. This is becoming a problem, for every morning Evie wakes up making this declaration and insisting that purple be a part of--or her entire--outfit for the day. The leg warmers and hat are the only two Christmas items that actually fit currently, so this has led to some battles. She would like to wear the purple dress from Nana every day, despite the fact it is so long it trips her and falls off her shoulders.
So today, against all that I "know" about the "right way" to parent, we went to Target and looked in the Toddler section for clearance purple clothes. Granted, we were there for other things so it's not like I just went there for this. But, we got two purple shirts to help make mornings easier. She's not even two. Have I lost the war??
At 21 months we're closer to two than one, and without a doubt she's becoming more opinionated each day. We have been touring suburbia preschools--because apparently I'm behind the curve on getting her signed up for the fall--and in today's tour/interview the directress stated that "it looks like she's getting ready to enter the terrible twos". I thought we were already there? Didn't I write something about this months ago? About being grateful to learn that the "terrible twos" were actually about the second year of life, aka from age one to age two? But alas, there is then apparently something called the troublesome, terrifying, tearful threes (I have no idea which of these is the actual term). All I know is popular media would have you believe you and your child are doomed to live in a state of purgatory from at least age one to age three, with multiple tantrums and battles and tears and screaming etc throughout. So far, said media is apparently telling the truth. Damnit. As I write this I hear Evie screaming about Lord knows what while Will attempts to put her to bed (I later found out it was because she had no clean purple socks to wear to bed). And yet, while these lows are quite low, the highs are SO MUCH FUN. I mean, really. I adore spending time with her. She cracks me up. Even when she's being defiant. If I ask her a question and her answer is no, she says "nope". I try hard not to crack a smile.
"Evie, it's time for bed. Do you want to brush your teeth or put on pajamas first?" Pause. "Nope". Well, shoot. She's got me there. I then say the "right" thing and tell her I'll make the choice for her, and I do, and she screams the whole time. I pretend the screaming doesn't bother me, but boy is it grating. I want to say "okay, fine, whatever, JUST PLEASE STOP SCREAMING". Fortunately, I don't. At least not yet. Instead, I grit my teeth and persist with whatever decision I've made in her neglect to choose an option.
But, back to the fun stuff. Last week was ridiculously cold in Chicago. So, all the classes we signed her up for were cancelled. Thus, this week was the start of everything. And it's been so fun to watch how capable she's becoming. Will took her to swimming and claims she was fantastic, and that by the end of the class she was jumping off the side of the pool under water! Unlike the other 10 kids in the class, she never cried. Not once. She grinned ear to ear, despite shivering as 45 minutes in the water was apparently a lot for her little body to take. At gymnastics, she was her quiet observer self for the first 8 minutes, and then she rocked it. Graciously. Not "in your face, here's my somersault", but more like, "I just did a somersault." <quiet smile and nod to mom>. She loved jumping on the trampoline and hanging from the parallel bar, and most especailly watching the older children excel in what they were doing. Although she doesn't have the words for it, she told me the whole way home how much she enjoyed the experience, recounting (or so I've made up) all that she did. Then today in music class she danced and sang, played the drums, followed along with arm movements, helped to clean up, and all in was an delight. Such fun to be around.
Until you go to put her in the car. Upon which she screams "NO CAR, NO CAR, NO CAR. AHHHHHHH". And I close (perhaps slam) her door, and say to myself "shhhhuuuuutttt up!", take a deep breath, get into the drivers seat, and pretend her screaming doesn't bother me one little bit. "Bummer, Evie, I can't understand you when you whine/scream/kick/etc". One more deep breath for the drive home.
I guess that's the challenge with most in life. To take the good with the bad, and somehow appreciate them both. Without a doubt she learns from both circumstances, and so do I. Maybe I'm learning more than her. It's interesting to me to hear from former stay-at-home-mom's who have returned to work, who say the hardest part about going back is your lack of confidence to handle things in the workplace. Frankly, there isn't a single challenging adult I dealt with in the work world who didn't remind me of Evie in a tantrum. I feel like I'm becoming better prepared to deal with the eventual return to the work force because hopefully I'll have learned some patience, understanding, and most of all, clarity on the importance of listening. From what I can tell, that's really all Evie's tantrums are about. She wants to make sure she's being heard. I just have to find a way to keep my sanity while I ensure her that "yes", she's been heard, but "no", that doesn't mean she gets what she wants.
So today, against all that I "know" about the "right way" to parent, we went to Target and looked in the Toddler section for clearance purple clothes. Granted, we were there for other things so it's not like I just went there for this. But, we got two purple shirts to help make mornings easier. She's not even two. Have I lost the war??
At 21 months we're closer to two than one, and without a doubt she's becoming more opinionated each day. We have been touring suburbia preschools--because apparently I'm behind the curve on getting her signed up for the fall--and in today's tour/interview the directress stated that "it looks like she's getting ready to enter the terrible twos". I thought we were already there? Didn't I write something about this months ago? About being grateful to learn that the "terrible twos" were actually about the second year of life, aka from age one to age two? But alas, there is then apparently something called the troublesome, terrifying, tearful threes (I have no idea which of these is the actual term). All I know is popular media would have you believe you and your child are doomed to live in a state of purgatory from at least age one to age three, with multiple tantrums and battles and tears and screaming etc throughout. So far, said media is apparently telling the truth. Damnit. As I write this I hear Evie screaming about Lord knows what while Will attempts to put her to bed (I later found out it was because she had no clean purple socks to wear to bed). And yet, while these lows are quite low, the highs are SO MUCH FUN. I mean, really. I adore spending time with her. She cracks me up. Even when she's being defiant. If I ask her a question and her answer is no, she says "nope". I try hard not to crack a smile.
"Evie, it's time for bed. Do you want to brush your teeth or put on pajamas first?" Pause. "Nope". Well, shoot. She's got me there. I then say the "right" thing and tell her I'll make the choice for her, and I do, and she screams the whole time. I pretend the screaming doesn't bother me, but boy is it grating. I want to say "okay, fine, whatever, JUST PLEASE STOP SCREAMING". Fortunately, I don't. At least not yet. Instead, I grit my teeth and persist with whatever decision I've made in her neglect to choose an option.
But, back to the fun stuff. Last week was ridiculously cold in Chicago. So, all the classes we signed her up for were cancelled. Thus, this week was the start of everything. And it's been so fun to watch how capable she's becoming. Will took her to swimming and claims she was fantastic, and that by the end of the class she was jumping off the side of the pool under water! Unlike the other 10 kids in the class, she never cried. Not once. She grinned ear to ear, despite shivering as 45 minutes in the water was apparently a lot for her little body to take. At gymnastics, she was her quiet observer self for the first 8 minutes, and then she rocked it. Graciously. Not "in your face, here's my somersault", but more like, "I just did a somersault." <quiet smile and nod to mom>. She loved jumping on the trampoline and hanging from the parallel bar, and most especailly watching the older children excel in what they were doing. Although she doesn't have the words for it, she told me the whole way home how much she enjoyed the experience, recounting (or so I've made up) all that she did. Then today in music class she danced and sang, played the drums, followed along with arm movements, helped to clean up, and all in was an delight. Such fun to be around.
Until you go to put her in the car. Upon which she screams "NO CAR, NO CAR, NO CAR. AHHHHHHH". And I close (perhaps slam) her door, and say to myself "shhhhuuuuutttt up!", take a deep breath, get into the drivers seat, and pretend her screaming doesn't bother me one little bit. "Bummer, Evie, I can't understand you when you whine/scream/kick/etc". One more deep breath for the drive home.
I guess that's the challenge with most in life. To take the good with the bad, and somehow appreciate them both. Without a doubt she learns from both circumstances, and so do I. Maybe I'm learning more than her. It's interesting to me to hear from former stay-at-home-mom's who have returned to work, who say the hardest part about going back is your lack of confidence to handle things in the workplace. Frankly, there isn't a single challenging adult I dealt with in the work world who didn't remind me of Evie in a tantrum. I feel like I'm becoming better prepared to deal with the eventual return to the work force because hopefully I'll have learned some patience, understanding, and most of all, clarity on the importance of listening. From what I can tell, that's really all Evie's tantrums are about. She wants to make sure she's being heard. I just have to find a way to keep my sanity while I ensure her that "yes", she's been heard, but "no", that doesn't mean she gets what she wants.
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