Ruler of the universe

We have this constant struggle, R and I. Who is really in charge?

Of course, she doesn’t intellectually acknowledge this struggle. In fact, if you ask her, she will tell you – Mommy is the Boss. While that is nice (and ego-boosting) to hear, it is not, in fact, the God’s-honest truth. Sometimes, frankly, R is the Boss.

There are days when I am Not. In. The. Mood. There are days when I don’t want everything to be a fight: the getting dressed, the eating breakfast, the getting out the door, the watch-television dilemma, the snack after school, the eating of vegetables, bath time, bed time, number of stories, number of minutes spent watching her lie there with her eyes open refusing to sleep, drinks of water, light level, OMG START AGAIN TOMORROW.

These are the days that I will bend, compromise a little. The days she eats macaroni and cheese for breakfast or gets two cookies right before dinner or skips her bath or stays up 20 more minutes to watch the end of “Jungle Book.” For the thirteen millionth time.

I try not to feel bad about these little lapses in principle, the gentle ebbing away from my greater goals as a parent. Everybody deserves a break once in awhile, I think. But are these breaks getting too frequent? Am I raising a child who does not know limits and will constantly expect her every whim to be fulfilled?

When I have thoughts like these, I frequently sway the opposite direction – toward a rigid standard of parenting. When we were on the cruise, we were eating dinner with the whole family – all 14 of us – when R started acting a little squirrelly. The joviality of the evening, and the fact that she and her 8-month-old cousin were the centers of attention, went straight to her head. She threw a fork. I immediately grabbed her and carried her out of the restaurant into the hall, sitting her on the steps in timeout.  Oh the wails. The tears. The self-pity.

Dave thought I over-reacted a little bit. And perhaps I did. But I don’t want her to ever think that throwing things was acceptable behavior. And we were already so flexible we were going to fall over with the next whiff of a Caribbean breeze – the child didn’t use the toilet for six.straight.days, for goodness sake. I wanted to show her firmness and boundaries and consequences.

But the problem comes the next time she throws a fork, and the reaction isn’t as sudden, swift and serious. It’s so difficult to be consistent when the same behavior could occur immediately after I spent 20 minutes cleaning up poop or immediately after a spontaneous hug and kiss.

But I guess this wasn’t meant to be easy.

Awesome, with caveats

I am very tan. I am actually pretty relaxed, which is an epic achievement for me, the most high strung and anxious person you may ever meet. I have visited the Dominican Republic, U.S. and British Virgin Islands and the Bahamas. I went parasailing. I racked up (with my husband, and the addition of a massage and shore excursions) a $1,347 bar bill. I had a seaweed wrap.

Seven days on a cruise ship in the Caribbean were incredible. The water was so blue, the islands so lovely and the drinks so cold that I stopped thinking about the fact that we were likely to miss our flight back (made it by the skin of our teeth and the jump to the front of the security line) and just CHILLED OUT for a little while.

We did run into some stumbling blocks. R, after being potty-trained-except-at-night for nearly five months, had a terrible experience at the kids club on the first full day of the cruise. Because of staffing, they can’t send someone to the bathroom with the kids, so they sent her alone and closed the door behind her. She was terrified. And refused to use the toilet for ANYTHING the rest of the vacation. I’m glad I brought lots of extra clothes. And apologies to the restaurant in Samana.

I have also somehow retained the dizziness often felt for a few hours after disembarking, a condition known as Mal de Disembarquement Syndrome, common among women in the 40s (NOT) who are prone to motion sickness (definitely) and migraines (for sure) and take hormone supplements (like the birth control pill?). It’s like vertigo could last for years, something I am not excited about.

Enjoy the pictures, I am off again to our annual convention, this year in Washington, D.C. I get to fly instead of taking the bus. Weather better not delay my return to my family on Sunday!

Cane Garden Bay Beach, Tortola

Coki Beach, St. Thomas

Parasailing, Great Stirrup Cay

Leaving Miami

Samana, Dominican Republic

 

2008

We said goodbye to a lot of things in 2008.

Bye-bye to “boon” – now it’s “balloon.”

And last month, she announced that she would no longer be calling it “Happy Donald’s” Mommy, she’ll be calling it McDonald’s.

No more crib. No more rocking to sleep in the glider. No more footie pajamas (too hard to use the potty). No more diapers.

But we got a lot too. For example: entire conversations about how R wants Mommy to teach her letters when R gets bigger. And about how her poop looks like a snowman. And how she wants to turn her daddy into a prince and marry him.

She gets regular haircuts. And paints her own toenails. She can dress herself. And sometimes she’ll use the potty all by herself.

It was a good year. And I know 2009 will be another year of letting go and watching her grow more independent, witty, beautiful and contrary. I can’t wait.

Happy New Year to all!