I took her to the zoo today. Which is like saying I took her to Disney World during spring break. We got there the moment it opened, and there were already about thirty school buses lined up, with kids in matching shirt colors streaming through the gates like the Israelites crossing the Red Sea. Apparently Fridays in April and May are prime field trip days. The only other people there were power moms, chatting on their cell phones while pushing five hundred-dollar strollers that hold three children at once along with the contents of an entire refrigerator and changing table.
E and I enjoyed zooming along in our little thirty-buck green stroller. She swung her legs and peered around at the other kids. The little girls seemed to like looking at her and one even called her “gorgeous” which put me in a great mood for the rest of the trip.
As a game D will sometimes tell her to shout out certain words (like “bus!” if she sees one while we’re driving). Apparently he taught her the Chinese word for leopard, because now every time I suggest going to the zoo she says “bau4!” over and over non-stop. So of course we were obligated to see the leopards, who happened to be mating today, which made me grateful she was too young to ask questions. Afterwards they lounged on their backs, which made her say “dap-dah” (for diaper) loudly over and over. Apparently anything on its back with its legs in the air is about to get its diaper changed. Again, grateful her words don’t make sense to anyone but me.
We lasted about ninety minutes. Or rather, I did. Unfortunately the crowds made her too shy to walk much, so I was often holding her with one arm so she could see above the railing, and pushing the stroller with the other. Holding her these days feels like carrying ten sacks of flour. It’s like the way they used to make the girls in home-ec carry around a bag of flour to simulate having a baby, except that was nothing compared to this. I told her to hold on to mommy, in an attempt to get her to help hold her own weight, after which she very gently grabbed a fistful of my shirt with one hand. Touching but not that helpful.
Apparently I say “wow” a lot, and E has picked up on this, because she says “wow!-wow!-wow!” repeatedly anytime she sees something exciting—like an elephant doing tricks, or the same two cats on the couch every morning. Other than that, she was pretty pensive and quiet as usual. It’s hard to tell how much she got out of the whole experience but I tell myself it provided great unconscious cerebral enrichment.
Since staying more at home I’ve figured out what all the other moms do with their kids all day: go to the mall and museums in bad weather, and the zoo and parks in good weather. Coming back intact today made me feel like I’d passed some initiation rite. Not quite as bad as, say, taking my first night of call, but tiring nonetheless.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Journal Excerpt
She's into this copycat thing lately, which while amusing is sometimes counterproductive. It’s hard to get much sweeping done with her around, because she insists on doing it herself, massaging the floor with the broom with one hand while dragging the dustpan after her with the other. When she gets tired she sets the dustpan on the floor and sits down in it.
My constant allergies are finally catching up to me because she’s taken on pretending to blow her nose. She takes about five tissues out of the box, carefully wipes her nose and mouth with each one, then stuffs them all back in succession.
Unfortunately she caught us feeding the cats some deli meat once, and now she has a minor obsession with feeding everything anything. She offers the cats milk from her sippy cup, pieces of food from their bowl. She offers her stuffed toys and dolls anything she happens to be eating; if I make “mm-mm” sounds she considers that satisfactory and stuffs the food back into her mouth.
She loves to play her toy piano, but only if there is music sheet out. She insists on having the sheets open and pauses in her playing to turn the pages every now and then.
She has picked up on our diaper-changing routine. Today she said “dap-dah,” her word for diaper (and poop and fart), and I looked over and there she was lying on her back with her legs up, a clean diaper clutched in one hand and a packet of wipes in the other. I kid you not. I peeked into her diaper expecting to find nothing but lo and behold there was some poop! There is hope for teaching her to change her own diapers yet.
My constant allergies are finally catching up to me because she’s taken on pretending to blow her nose. She takes about five tissues out of the box, carefully wipes her nose and mouth with each one, then stuffs them all back in succession.
Unfortunately she caught us feeding the cats some deli meat once, and now she has a minor obsession with feeding everything anything. She offers the cats milk from her sippy cup, pieces of food from their bowl. She offers her stuffed toys and dolls anything she happens to be eating; if I make “mm-mm” sounds she considers that satisfactory and stuffs the food back into her mouth.
She loves to play her toy piano, but only if there is music sheet out. She insists on having the sheets open and pauses in her playing to turn the pages every now and then.
She has picked up on our diaper-changing routine. Today she said “dap-dah,” her word for diaper (and poop and fart), and I looked over and there she was lying on her back with her legs up, a clean diaper clutched in one hand and a packet of wipes in the other. I kid you not. I peeked into her diaper expecting to find nothing but lo and behold there was some poop! There is hope for teaching her to change her own diapers yet.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Invisible Woman
D put it eloquently recently: “women have it tough.” To summarize: you’re a girl, you decide being a mom is important to you, but you aren’t married yet. So you pursue a career; you’re going along the path, some guy waylays you, you get married, have kids. And then you’ve got to make some kind of decision, compromise, sacrifice.
I look around and see all kinds of situations. Where I work, most people stay full-time and hire one or more nannies, or have grandparents who live with them. Some work part-time; some stop working altogether.
I still think staying home to be with your child is important, but it’s hard. Harder than working. I’ve been going on job interviews, and when discussions of my CV come up I feel like I’m reading about someone from another world. I guess I used to be someone who competed, was involved in things, took courses and overnight shifts. Now I wash dishes, only to wash more dishes. I clean up the toys only to clean them up again. I change diapers only to change more diapers. I can sing all the songs from Baby Signing Times and quote Goodnight Moon in my sleep.
I feel relatively invisible. Sometimes it feels like I end the day without much more to show for it than when I began. Everyone knew what kind of student or doctor I was. Who knows, truly, what kind of mother I am? It’s like you disappear under the radar except when someone judges you based on how well-behaved your kid was at some function or where they end up for college.
Of course no one knows me well enough to see what kind of mother I really am. But God does. He saw all the things I’ve done before in my life; now he sees the sleepless nights when she’s sick, hears the lullabies and silly songs and repetitive explanations. He understands my desire to be the one there with her, and what I am not doing in order to be the one changing her diaper or taking her for a walk.
Like all the previous things in my life, motherhood is temporary. I look back now on the days I was a serious pianist, or took a Shakespeare class. One day I’ll look back on the days I spent with her alone. This is a privilege, this time with her, and it will pass like any other time in life. One day it will be more obvious than it is now that she never was mine. And what matters in the end won’t be what I have to show anyone for it, other than God, who is the only one who ever really sees me, anyway. And the only thing in my life that never changes.
I look around and see all kinds of situations. Where I work, most people stay full-time and hire one or more nannies, or have grandparents who live with them. Some work part-time; some stop working altogether.
I still think staying home to be with your child is important, but it’s hard. Harder than working. I’ve been going on job interviews, and when discussions of my CV come up I feel like I’m reading about someone from another world. I guess I used to be someone who competed, was involved in things, took courses and overnight shifts. Now I wash dishes, only to wash more dishes. I clean up the toys only to clean them up again. I change diapers only to change more diapers. I can sing all the songs from Baby Signing Times and quote Goodnight Moon in my sleep.
I feel relatively invisible. Sometimes it feels like I end the day without much more to show for it than when I began. Everyone knew what kind of student or doctor I was. Who knows, truly, what kind of mother I am? It’s like you disappear under the radar except when someone judges you based on how well-behaved your kid was at some function or where they end up for college.
Of course no one knows me well enough to see what kind of mother I really am. But God does. He saw all the things I’ve done before in my life; now he sees the sleepless nights when she’s sick, hears the lullabies and silly songs and repetitive explanations. He understands my desire to be the one there with her, and what I am not doing in order to be the one changing her diaper or taking her for a walk.
Like all the previous things in my life, motherhood is temporary. I look back now on the days I was a serious pianist, or took a Shakespeare class. One day I’ll look back on the days I spent with her alone. This is a privilege, this time with her, and it will pass like any other time in life. One day it will be more obvious than it is now that she never was mine. And what matters in the end won’t be what I have to show anyone for it, other than God, who is the only one who ever really sees me, anyway. And the only thing in my life that never changes.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Too Cute for Words
This is the boy our wonderful nanny, who took these pictures, watches E with one or twice a week. Most of the time when I'm with them they are fighting over some toy. Apparently this is what they're like when I'm gone.
Shamelessly Late Update
I know; it’s been a ridiculously long period of time since I wrote. It’s been a combination of things, some of which I’ll be able to share more about later. Two major things have been studying for the boards, which are in a week and a half, planning to move, perhaps several times, and figuring out where we should head and what we should do for the next stage in life.
E is one and a half years old now. She is practically a real little person. She’s gotten taller. She’s sturdier when she walks and eats well with a spoon. She still has a big belly that she likes to poke out when she’s upset. She still has those three rings of fat on her thighs—I’ll be sad when they’re gone. Her hair is longer and we can barely keep it clipped down.
She’s terribly expressive and willful these days. Yes, she wants to wear her raincoat even though it’s sunny outside. No, she doesn’t want to give us a kiss. No, she doesn’t want to change her diaper full of poop. She says the word with a curious sort of upward inflection- “no?” “noo?” “noooo?!”
She communicates remarkably well using a combination of Chinese, English, and sign language. Since January we’ve been speaking to her only in Chinese, which I think has paid off. At least my Chinese has improved. I couldn’t tell you how to say “forgiveness” or “ambition”, but I can say the words for ostrich, rhino, panda bear, alligator, penguin, and orangutan.
I like how she swings her arms nonchalantly while she walks around. I like how she applauds herself when she figures she’s done something pretty good. I like how she feeds all the stuffed animals. I like how she chases the cats around trying to sit on them. I sort of like how she announces when anyone in the room farts (name of farter included). I like how she lies her head on my shoulder, waits for me to finish praying, and says “ah-meh” before we put her to bed. I like how when she’s scared of the vacuum cleaner or shy of new people she lies still against me and grips my shirt real tight. I like how the randomest things make her laugh uncontrollably.
E is one and a half years old now. She is practically a real little person. She’s gotten taller. She’s sturdier when she walks and eats well with a spoon. She still has a big belly that she likes to poke out when she’s upset. She still has those three rings of fat on her thighs—I’ll be sad when they’re gone. Her hair is longer and we can barely keep it clipped down.
She’s terribly expressive and willful these days. Yes, she wants to wear her raincoat even though it’s sunny outside. No, she doesn’t want to give us a kiss. No, she doesn’t want to change her diaper full of poop. She says the word with a curious sort of upward inflection- “no?” “noo?” “noooo?!”
She communicates remarkably well using a combination of Chinese, English, and sign language. Since January we’ve been speaking to her only in Chinese, which I think has paid off. At least my Chinese has improved. I couldn’t tell you how to say “forgiveness” or “ambition”, but I can say the words for ostrich, rhino, panda bear, alligator, penguin, and orangutan.
I like how she swings her arms nonchalantly while she walks around. I like how she applauds herself when she figures she’s done something pretty good. I like how she feeds all the stuffed animals. I like how she chases the cats around trying to sit on them. I sort of like how she announces when anyone in the room farts (name of farter included). I like how she lies her head on my shoulder, waits for me to finish praying, and says “ah-meh” before we put her to bed. I like how when she’s scared of the vacuum cleaner or shy of new people she lies still against me and grips my shirt real tight. I like how the randomest things make her laugh uncontrollably.
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