Little Red Riding Hood

Today is the 200^th anniversary of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. In the last year or so I have come to appreciate them more than I did in the past. 

I never liked a lot of the stories like “Snow White” and “Cinderella” because they always spoke of princes coming to the rescue and saving the women in the stories. I just don’t think this is a fair lesson to teach any girl (or even any child for that matter). Because:

1)      There are so few real princes in the world.

2)       It assumes that women aren’t capable of helping themselves and that they need a valiant hero/man to save them from their problems.

3)      If women envision themselves as princesses, how do they deal with the crazy world when there are no magic spells?

However, since the appearance of the television shows like “Once Upon a Time” and “Grimm” and their retellings of these stories, I’ve begun to enjoy them again.

Now that my daughter is born I like them more too. Because

1)      She has a little velour sweater with a fox on it so I call her my Little Red Riding Hood.

2)      I’ve been reading these stories to her and they are warped! And if there is anything I like it’s morbid and twisted stories. 

I’m sure in time, I will enjoy these stories in different capacities especially because it will be through the eyes of my daughter. Maybe I’ll appreciate them to another degree when she gets older.

Kicking and Screaming - Part 2

(Or, What I Learned from My Daughter)

 

Although I babysat for many years in my youth, nothing quite prepares you for raising your own child. You may become a guru at diaper changing (my skills atrophied with the years), an expert at baby talk (still up to par), or skilled at soothing (ummm depends on the day) while watching other children but it’s different when it is your own kid.

The reason for this is due to every child being different. Some kids love to be left alone while others need constant contact. In the early days with my baby, she would scream so that other countries could hear her when she peed. However she would happily sit in her own poop for long periods and seem unfazed that a bowel movement had even occurred. 

What I had a lot of trouble adjusting to was my daughter’s behavior when she became overtired. I would try to comfort her and soothe her by bouncing her and shushing her and nothing seemed to work. I would sing lullabies and rock her all in vain. She would howl at a level that even dogs would wear earplugs. I was constantly perplexed. I would see her rub her yawn and I’d begin to try my calming techniques. She wasn’t having any of my relaxing. She needed to cry and get to a point where she would rub her eyes incessantly. Her eyelids needed to get red and she’d have to exhaust herself with her screams until she finally conked out. 

Everyone said it was colic but I knew it wasn’t. There were times when I could soothe her even if it only seemed momentarily.  I became upset when my mom and sister would say that all she did was cry because I had spent hours with her where she would coo and listen attentively to my voice and respond. She was just fussy and needed to get her exercise by crying it out, it seemed. 

The first few weeks of this comportment made me feel like a horrible mother. I felt inadequate because I couldn’t calm my own baby down. Then one day while holding her, I let out a big exhale. My shoulders relaxed and my arms lost their tension and she suddenly began to drift off. I realized then that what I needed was more patience and calmness within myself to give to her. I had always seen myself as an incredibly patient person (I had to be with my family!). But this child required even more of that from me. So early on in our relationship, I was learning a lesson from my cookie. 

Now when I see her beginning to get sleepy, I select an item from my arsenal of peace with a tranquil mind and heart so that she can get herself to sleep on her own. If anyone has ever said you can’t learn something from children, they don’t a thing about babies.

Dreams of my Father

A few nights ago I had a dream with my dad. It had been a while since he visited me during my slumbers. It was a pretty funny interaction too. I woke up with a smile on my face because it was so realistic of how he was.

For some reason in the dream I worked in a small office. It seemed like a doctor’s office – at least it was nothing like the offices where I’ve worked in my recent experience. He came by to fix the window in the office and had finished his task. It was 2:30 in the dream and he stopped by my desk and asked if I could go home yet. I told him that I still had a lot of work to do. So he said he would stick around and go take a nap.

He walked away and came back a few minutes later and asked me where the chair he liked to recline in was. I told him that the bosses had gotten rid of it. To which he replied “Idiots!” He then proceeded to go back to the area where he commenced with his nap.

I wasn’t sure what the dream meant or why all of a sudden my dad was visiting again. It was a very pleasant surprise. It reminded me of some of the other dreams I had of him when he first passed away. 

I had one dream where he was sitting in a hospital bed and he had put on weight. He was eating a dish of edamame and he picked up one of the pods and looked at it as if he had never seen it before. He then proceeded to eat it and made a ‘humpf’ sound to signify that he liked it. 

A few days later I had a dream that he, my husband and I were walking down the street. We came upon a man who was selling gallons of olive oil for 11 dollars. When my dad saw the price, he stopped and told the guy he wanted to buy all the olive oil he had. He turned to us to tell us that "11 bucks for olive oil is a great price.” 

It’s funny that I remember these things about my dad and that they are manifested in my dreams in the way they are. This last dream put a smile on my face which is something I need to keep remembering to do when I think of my dad.

The Micro-manager

People I have worked with have always found it amazing that I have dealt so well with micro-managers in my career. It takes a lot of patience and the ability to hold your tongue as much as humanly possible. Honestly I am happy to have avoided them in the past few years. Every so often I am reminded of how difficult it is to work for those kinds of people because I am the daughter of one of the best.

My mom is a control freak. She will never admit it. I know why she is but it was very hard growing up around her. No matter what I did; I had to answer a thousand questions about what I was doing, thinking, saying. I became accustomed to that kind of detailed questioning because of it – this is how I excelled with work managers. 

For instance, when I had to plan my baby’s baptism, it was a barrage of questions and things I had to do. Once I did them, I had to report back to her on their progress/status. And if I forgot something, I would have to hear the comments. She would say stuff like “I thought you would remember to do that!” With someone reminding you of the million things you have to do, it’s pretty easy to let something slip or to forget something. But no! That is not allowed. 

When my friends were planning my baby shower, I felt bad for them. My mom wanted to pay for the event but in doing so she wanted everything done her way. That’s really hard to do when other people want to plan the event. As much as I wanted to be uninvolved, it was impossible. My mom was always checking in with me on the status of things.  I would have to tell her “Mom, why would I know? I’m not planning the event?” Regardless, she expected me to know. I think that my friends could finally understand where I got my efficient and responsible nature. I’m sure they also pitied me to some degree.

The one good thing about my micro’mom’ager is that I learned to not be as anxious about projects as she is. I think you can still follow up with people without driving them insane. Part of how you manage a micro-manager is to constantly barrage them back with statuses so they quasi leave you alone. I am more about calm confidence than antsy anxiety. In a roundabout way, I thank her for pestering me about everything. I hope I am not the same way with my daughter. Although my husband says that I do this to him. Well…let’s just leave it at, I’m working on fixing this personality trait.

Out and About

One of my favorite times of the day with my daughter is when I take a walk with her. During my maternity leave it was something I looked forward to everyday from the moment I woke up. I always planned out where we would go ahead of time – running errands, eating lunch, or just aimlessly walking around the neighborhood.

The first few weeks were great because the moment I would put her in the stroller, she would nap. So I could spend some time eating lunch or reading a book at a park bench while I rocked her further into sleep. Occasionally when I didn’t have a specific errand to run, I’d just walk up and down blocks in my neighborhood just to get her to feel the bumps of the street beneath her stroller. As she grew more, she would watch everything that was going on around her. She would occasionally doze off. However, she spent most of the time observing EVERYTHING. 

The best part of these more recent walks has been to watch her watching people, places, things and seeing her expressions to the noises surrounding her. On cold days, I’d bundle her up completely so all I could see were her eyes – two big brown eyes peering past the stroller cover to see what the world had to offer. 

Now that I’m not with her everyday, her dad tells me about their walks. And he too is mesmerized by her observation skills. He even decided to get a camera that he put on the stroller to just look at her when they are out on their walks. I am looking forward to seeing those expressions again. 

I look forward to the weekends when I can go out with her and she can show me the world through her eyes. I can’t wait to take her on trips outside of the neighborhood so she can experience more of the city and even the world.