Dinner: Bean Mess!

I made Bean Mess tonight. It's the first time I've cooked it, as I just invented it this evening. All kinds of colors went into this masterful creation. Pintos, chard, canned tomatoes, onions, garlic, curry powder, garlic powder, I can't recall the rest.

Sofie's had beans and all the other ingredients in separate dishes, but not this Mess. This food unfamiliarity could really backfire. : \

Doo dee doo, nothing out of the ordinary is happening here, child, as I dish this weirdness onto your tray. Let's just put the bib right on you and give you a spoon with a smile and voila! (Oh, jeez, just let her take a bite and TASTE it before she judges it by appearances, pleeeeeaaaaaase.) Doo dee doo, this is a masterpiece dinner that you will LOVE, my sweet!

She looks down and picks up a bean, putting it in her mouth right away. Standing ovation in my mind! Of course, I can't show it for risk of the whole situation becoming one of those weird power struggle things, so I pretend I'm distracted.

What do you know, the following bites are also a hit! She's even shoveling in the brown rice on the side! That's my girl. Not even blinking about the chard chunks? I mean, she wasn't going for the lone lumps of green, but she didn't pick it off the beans and tomatoes, either.

Leafy greens have been especially hard to get her to eat. In the past, I've witnessed her sticking out her tongue in disgust and beating it violently with her fingers, attempting to disappear the poisonous vegetable from her taste buds. It's quite distressing to watch!

She eats slowly, with just a few lone chard chunks left when she says, "all done." Full kid, happy parent. Hooray for Bean Mess!

Baby Locked In Car = 911 Emergency

I stood outside my car door, looking at Sofie locked on the inside, trying not to panic, but totally panicking. I just locked my 18 mo. old daughter inside. By herself. With the keys in the ignition. Did I just do this? WTF?! What kind of absent-minded parent does that?! OK, I have no time to hate myself right now. What the hell do I do?!

I feel my phone in my pocket. Who do I call?! Toly will be able to talk me through this! I call. No answer. F******&K!! My mind races and it takes me a minute to get through the panic thoughts and come to the rational ones. I don't want to leave the car and go look for someone, she'll be here by herself and then SHE might panic.

The car is on, the a/c is on full blast. No danger of overheating. So, I look on my phone's map for locksmiths nearby. I call one. He's on the job in the town over. I call another one. "Listen to me," she says slowly and calmly. And I feel a sense of quiet come over my mind as I prepare to understand what she's about to say. "If it's a child locked in the car, call the police and the fire department will be there asap to unlock the door." I breathe a sigh of relief. I call 911 and the dispatcher picks up. I feel the tears coming as I try to utter my circumstance and location.

Sof is still happy as a lark in the backseat. She amazes me. She's playing with her books and toys and says hi to me when I catch her eye through the glass. Her calm helps me relax a bit more. The police get there within three minutes. Firetruck arrives shortly after. The driver tries to talk to me while I watch the another fireman try to jimmy the lock with his tools. Another cop comes sprinting over to me with a cup of water. I wish his energy were put to better use, but I appreciate his wanting to help.

By now, there are three cop cars and a fully loaded firetruck surrounding our wee civic. Sof is a little concerned about the guy outside the window making noise with a big stick. She looks at me for answers and I try to communicate comfort with my eyes and smile - no easy task with how I feel! She still seems okay, but hangs closer by the door that I'm looking into. Finally the door lock clicks open. A different cop tries to pull me aside to ask me questions about what happened. Err, can I get to my daughter, please? I pull her out and hold her in my arms, overwhelmed with gratitude.

The explanation of how she got locked in is longer than I want to relate, but I learned more about how our car door locks operate and came away with a good lesson. Soooooooo grateful for those first responders!

Being Good

All I wanted as a kid was to be good. When your main drive is to receive praise, that's what you do. When I didn't know what was right or good, I took cues from others as to what would receive smiles or applause from the grown-ups. This need for approval came from a fear of failing and rejection. I was terrified of being shamed or disliked. Thankfully, I've gotten over all of that with time and practice.

But, all this leads me to Sofie.

I watch her as she plays with other kids, interacts with adults and explores her environment. She displays such confidence in her interactions. She is feisty, always testing us. Her eyes meet mine - how will I react when she throws her spoon to the floor for the zillionth time? Or when she carefully drops her eggs over the edge as she looks squarely at me. When I have the smallest hint of sternness in my voice as I see her reaching for the keyboard, she brushes it over with her hands, pretending to press the keys. She's a terror as any 18 month-old should be. She's exploring her boundaries and I can't possibly be upset about that or at her for it. She figures out what's right and wrong, good/bad, and makes her own decision.

It is eternally clear that fear is not her motivating force. Sofie has great confidence in herself and understands we unconditionally love and support her. She doesn't carry the fear I carried, and for this I have the deepest gratitude. I feel such faith that her confidence will be with her through childhood and her teenage years; that she will carry the love we pour into her and bring it forth during her hardest times. I am so thankful for her happiness. She gives us more love than we imagined possible.

T'was a Bad Night

First time she's fallen asleep without a diaper change, pajamas, story time, or toothbrushing. That kind of night, indeed. Something inside her ignited causing freakin' tantrum explosions all over the place. I find it easy to keep my cool during a tantrum, but discovered what's hardest about them; she doesn't let me comfort her. She doesn't want me to pick her up, doesn't want to listen to soothing music, doesn't want to watch Sesame Street, DOES NOT want me to touch her. She lets me know this by flailing her limbs and screaming till she runs out of breath.

Thus, I sit by her and watch as this thing takes her over. I have a beer at my side, I take a sip. Here I am feeling guilty that I'm nursing an alcoholic beverage when my child is screaming, but i've exhausted all options to try and help her. So, I watch her scream some more, seeing her face turn beet red with that sad mix of snot and tears that I SO want to wipe away, but knowing it will set her off even more if I dare. I finally tried picking her up again and she let me. We walked around the living room for 10 minutes in silence. She rested her head on my shoulder while she got those leftover heaves out of her system. I dismissed the idea of turning up the a/c as I got hotter carrying her. I dismissed walking outside or into the kitchen. She needed for me to walk a small, slow path with her in my arms, over and over and over. So, we did. She passed out and I put her to bed.

I'm exhausted and pained, but feel a strange confidence. I know that because we endured THAT mess, we can get through anything. Now I want a shoulder to lay my head, though. I do have a perfect one for these moments - it will just be home late tonight. I'll tell him what happened and he'll tell me I am strong and a good mother and yes, there are hard moments, but we'll look over it all quite fondly in 20 years. He is right.

Always to My Surprise

"Doj?", she asks standing by the garage door. I open it and stand in the entry way, half expecting her to head toward the glass recycling so she can explore those bottles as potential throwing materials. Surprisingly, she heads straight to the Honda and tries lifting the back door handle. "You want to go in the car?" I open the door and she pats the back seat repeatedly. "Upupupupup?" When she really wants something, it's one word repeated in quick succession. But, this is totally bizarro! Wanting to get IN the car? I lift her up on the seat and watch, stunned, as she crawls into her car seat. Does she want to go somewhere? Did she forget something in there? Does she want to dig for the long lost cheerios that have creeped beneath the buckle holes? None of the above. She makes herself comfortable with her phone at ear. "Ho? Ooze dis. Okay. Yeah? Okay. Soooon, bye".

I guessed we could be there for a little while, so I give cousin Cim a call to catch up. Sof and I spend the next fifteen minutes enjoying our separate conversations. When Cim and I hang up, she finally accepts my offer to go back in the house.

I so love the surprises she gives me!

Magnetic

Magnets were a hit for two days. I bought a cup full of colorful dots at Target - small to large. Why did I think she'd play nicely at the fridge with them? Waaaaay more fun throwing them from the fridge in all directions, then gathering them to put them into a cup, then taking them out to throw them on the floor again, then running away. I finally gathered them up and several were chipped. Poor magnets. They were so cheery, really. I moved them out of reach for a bit. Maybe I'll move them back down when I need another 20 minutes of dinner prep time.

Bath Time Minus Water

Last week, she asked me to put her in the empty bathtub. I think she saw the shampoo bottles and was tempted to throw them around. "In?" she says, looking at me. I decided she was pretty safe in the tub and she didn't seem to care about my presence, so I left and did some stuff in the kitchen, keeping an ear out. Maybe ten minutes, I come back just when she was getting bored with her new play pen. "Uppy?" Later that night, I noticed one of the shampoo bottles on its side, with a river of goo slowly pouring into the drain. arrrrrgh.