Lessons

So we all know that "kids grow up too fast" and that we should "enjoy them at each age". Someone will say that and everyone standing within conversational radius will nod sagely. Nevermind that I've almost never agreed with this -- it's at best an admonition that you are thinking too negatively about what's happening (Johnny biting his friend? Don't worry, enjoy it. He's just expressing his frustration.). At worst, it's a desire to keep them from learning new things, to forever chain them to your side and screw them up.

What I've learned lately, from having the Baby, is that "kids grow up" (except when they don't). "Of course they do," I hear you saying. "What the hell are you going on about now?"

Well. With the Preschooler, I didn't know that kids grow up. I knew that she would get bigger, I knew that she'd learn to read, I knew that she'd learn to press my buttons. But I didn't KNOW, that like a helium balloon adrift in the sky, she would continue inexorably on with or without my input. I felt more like she was ball on a slight incline, that I needed to constantly nudge uphill and keep from rolling back. Constant vigilance.

Then B. came along, and suddenly we were in the midst of reflux and food intolerances. When I let go of the crushing disappointment of not being able to breastfeed B., I had a freeing, calming, wonderful epiphany: This too shall pass. B will grow up. She'll learn to eat. Her gut will learn to tolerate food. She's on the path. I don't know any 20 year olds (who haven't had some traumatic injury) who don't use the toilet, feed themselves, know some social interaction strategies.

Think about it -- most of the people you deal with in your life are adults. They don't change much. They are what and who they are already; they're fairly predictable. If you're thinking about friends you've known since you were kids yourselves, you changed and grew along with them and so probably didn't notice the changes that were going on. Nothing really prepares us for the reality of kids. They're little cameleons. Trying things out, learning what's acceptable and what's not. They're change artists.

And so you can get seriously wrapped up in the minutiae of raising them. You're cruising along for a few weeks or months with a status quo, and suddenly the cameleon pops out a new color. Most often out in public, when you are totally unprepared. (Ever seen a parent staring at their child as if it has suddenly sprouted two heads? Yes, I said "it".) You spin your wheels for a few days: "What the fuck is going on? Something's different. Why is it happening?" Then it hits you. "Oh, we're wearing a new color. Shit." And "Wait! I liked the old color! It was predictable, dependable, cute." Finally, "Right. Time to find the complementary Parent color."

What was I talking about? Oh yeah. They grow up. If you don't like a color, just wait, stay consistent. A new one will come out soon enough.

Blackmail

"I'm not going to be your friend anymore."

I looked up to see the Preschooler's playdate buddy (A.) walking out of the bedroom, with the Preschooler (P.) in hot pursuit. P. busted past A., into the playroom and claimed the child size vacuum cleaner before A. could, to which A. responded again: "I'm not your friend anymore." P. came to me and told me what happened (ah the naivete -- not realizing that Mommy can hear you in the next room...), and so I asked "why did A. say that?" (non judgemental, trying to teach P. how to deal with conflict). P. and I reasoned out that A. really did have prior claim, and so without further prompting P. went back in and said "Here A., you can have a turn first." To which A. said "Okay, I'll be your friend now."

Ah, the blackmail starts early with us women.

How do you explain blackmail to a Preschooler? All I know is I'm going to try, because I think it's important they understand what they are doing to each other. The future ramifications are huge.

Intersections

Every day as I drive to pick The Preschooler up from camp, I go through what I thought was a rather simple intersection. It's one of those islanded Y's that branch off of a busy route. I come up the bottom of the Y and take a left turn onto the busy route, which can be challenging depending on the traffic level. On the way back, I come down the left-top Y branch, which is just a merge for me, super easy.

I often wonder why people don't slow down an inch and let me out (never mind I live near Boston, and we are the WORST, most aggressive drivers in the country). The people on that road know how difficult it can be to get out, as they're usually on that road ALOT. I happen to subscribe to the pay it forward theory of driving -- be nice to people so they'll be nice to someone else. It also makes me feel better in general and less like using my car as a weapon, but that's another post.

Very often when I'm coming through the return trip, someone is turning off the main road from the other direction and threatens to run me over (they have a yield). It's pretty irritating! I wonder what the heck is wrong with them that they can't see through the very open intersection and that their sole job is to YIELD.

It wasn't until one day I happened to be coming home from yet another Preschooler birthday party and came through that intersection from the opposite direction that I caught a glimpse of the problem. Now I was the one on the main road, turning left across traffic into the right-top Y part of the intersection. I poured my concentration into turning across the fast-moving traffic and found myself in the intersection almost missing the yield to someone merging off from the other direction.

Oh.

And I now had another answer for why people don't slow down to let others out: the intersection is at the crown of a hill, and the road curves up to meet the crown. You don't know the intersection is there, or that there's someone in it, until you are on top of it. To slow down there would not be a good idea.

Hm.

So now I am thinking about how all those platitudes that all mean basically: don't bitch about something until you've done it too.

Don't tell someone how to live their life.
Don't tell someone how to grieve for their loved one.
Don't tell someone how to parent their child.