Good Cop + Bad Cop = Me.

The kid sure knows how to pull at the heart strings.

“I love you! I want you! I want yooooou!”

Granted these nuggets of undying devotion only come out with such passion when she is on a time out. When she sees that I am unswayed and not returning to her room, she turns on me.

There is a period of time where all I hear from her room are sorrow-filled ululations which quickly turn into cries for family members who cannot hear her. I am sure that if she had a clear concept of God and the heavens she would be appealing to them as well.

“I don’t like you! I want Grandma! Grandmaaaaaaa! Grandpaaaaa! I want Uncle Briiiiiii! Aunt TTTTTTTTTT!”

But alas no one come to her rescue. Her cries simmer down to whimpers and sniffles which then settle into silence. A few moments later she will either emerge with tear-streaked cheeks, shuffle over to me and fling herself headfirst into my lap whispering a muffled “Sorry…” or I will peek my head into her room and find her asleep in bed surrounded by her stuffed animals with her blanket pulled up to her chin.

Whatever the outcome, I always feel a sense of triumph. “Haha, I win! You cannot beat me, little one. I am the adult here. Ha and ha!”

But here is the problem. I feel this every single time my discipline works. I can talk a mean game and I can carry it out too, but I am always surprised when it works. Perhaps it is because there is always the moment when in the midst of it, I want to give up. Thrown in the towel. Say, “Fine, have the daggone piece of candy!” or “Fine, wear your swimsuit and rainboots and nothing else to school. Who cares that it’s snowing outside!” But I don’t and that is usually when she turns the corner.

Multiple times a week I feel like we are acting out this scene from Kramer v. Kramer.

Ted Kramer: [while Billy brings ice cream to the table] You go right back and put that right back until you finish your dinner… I’m warning you, you take one bite out of that and you are in big trouble. Don’t… Hey! Don’t you dare… Don’t you DARE do that. You hear me? Hold it right there! You put that ice cream in your mouth and you are in very, very, VERY big trouble. Don’t you dare go anywhere beyond that… Put it down right now. I am not going to say it again. I am NOT going to say it AGAIN.
[Billy eats ice cream]
Billy Kramer: [Ted picks him up] Ow! You’re hurting me!
Ted Kramer: OW! Don’t you kick me!
Billy Kramer: I hate you!
Ted Kramer: You’re no bargain either, pal! You are a spoiled, rotten little brat and I’ll tell you right now…
Billy Kramer: I hate you!
Ted Kramer: And I hate you back, you little shit!
Billy Kramer: I want my mommy!
Ted Kramer: I’m all you got.

And I feel horribly. How can you feel that way about your own child? But I do. Well, I don’t hate her. But I very strongly disliker her during those moments. Those are the moments when I wish I could just drop her on her father’s doorstep and say, “Here you deal with her because I can’t.” And I imagine that you can probably do that in a marriage. Leave that kid with the other parent and drive off into the sunset for a little while and return when a cooler head has prevailed. But I can’t do that.

So sometimes, I give myself a time out. I lock myself in the bathroom, turn on the shower as hot as it will go and give myself a stern talking to or say all the things that I wish I could say, but cannot because she’s only three and a half for gosh sakes. Once the mirror has steamed up, I have usually deflated all my own hot air and am okay enought to open the door.

Where is AB during my time out, you ask? On the other side of the door vacillating between crying for me to come out and asking if I’m okay and if I accidently locked myself in the bathroom. When I emerge she is always quite happy to see me and willing to talk about what went wrong. She will give me a run through of the prior ten minutes, “Annabelle threw the books and Froggie and Mommy said to pick them up and Annabelle said NO! and was put on time out and then Mommy locked herself in the bathroom by axident.”

Suffice it to say, while I have gotten much better at discipline over the past year, I am by no means a master. While it is clear that AB does not hold a grudge (with me anyway), I know that she is in no way being scarred by me being a consistent disciplinarian or, dare I say, a mean mom at times. I just wish that I didn’t feel like such a baby about it myself. Hurt feelings have no place in motherhood, right? Kids are always going to say things that they don’t mean. Heck, I constantly say things that I don’t mean in my bathroom time-out rants. I feel like I am on an emotional roller coaster though. I go from sadness that she is so upset, then frustration that she thought she could get away with it, then anger that she thinks that I am so horrible that she requires some sort of stealth rescue mission, then relief when it is over which is quickly followed by the dread that it is inevitably going to happen again.

I need to grow a thicker skin. Pronto.

AB’s Bookshelf.

We’re back with some children’s books  that will interest both you and your kiddo (tested by AB and approved by moi). I have found that if you are interested in the book you are reading to your child he or she will be interested as well. If you are more engaged (i.e. more likely to do funky, funny character voices and act out parts and actually have fun doing it) and your child will be too.    Though, believe me, I understand that sometimes the energy just cannot be mustered.  That is when it’s time to break out Goodnight, Moon and the like.

Current Stack:

1. Every Friday by Dan Yaccarino – It is very easy as adults to get wrapped up in all the many things we need to check off our to do lists.  We are forever on the go. This is a story about a father and son’s weekly trip to a diner for a pancake breakfast. Simple yet endearing, it will have you racking your brain of what traditions you want to introduce to you little one. Take the time to slow down, put away the Blackberry/iPhone, turn off the computer, turn off the TV and truly have quality time.

2. Think Cool Thoughts by Elizabeth Perry and illustrated by Linda Bronson – Summer is fast approaching so pick up this book to distract from the heat. Join Angel as she camps out on the roof, counts ice cubes in the sky and dances in the rain. A magically sweet and refreshing story to remind you of the wonders of the imagination. Great bedtime read.

3. Woolbur by Leslie Helakoski and illustrated by Lee Harper – A wonderfully illustrated tale about a free thinking sheep. His refrain of “I know…Isn’t it great?” will help lessen your exasperation when you find your own little one marching to the tune of a different drummer…at the most inopportune times.

4. Gertrude is Gertrude is Gertrude is Gertrude by Jonah Winter and illustrated by Calef Brown – My favorite of this weeks stack. When I saw it on the shelf I had an immediate flashback to my freshman year in college and wanting to throw Ms. Stein and her convaluted writing  out the window.  I found her style incredibly frustrating which is why I think I enjoyed this one so much. It’s a nice introduction to modern art and literature for the kiddos.  The repetition is a huge plus. Said repetition can also lead to some tongue tied sentences which makes it all the more fun.

Happy Reading!

Subway Madness.

Getting a young child to behave on public transportation is no easy feat. It is akin to traveling on an airplane with a preschooler every single day, twice a day. Kids are prone to yell, stand on seats, touch other passengers (especially hands and backs of heads), make rude comments about other passengers (“She is being too loud.” “She is stinky.”), sneeze/cough without covering mouths (usually on other passengers), etc. Or wait, maybe that’s just my child. 

But we don’t have a car and we are certainly not going to walk everywhere. So train and/or bus it is. I have found the key is to be prepared. I always have a mini bag of tricks on hand to keep her entertained.

The Transportation Kit includes: 1 book of her choosing, 1 small coloring book, a baggie with 5 crayons, my iPod loaded with at least 1 kid game, 1 kid tv show, and 1 kid movie, and a snack (usualy fruit or goldfish).  All of this fits into her bag/backpack (minus the iPod, of course) and she feels like a big kid. Plus, it stays in her cubby at school, so I don’t have to lug it around with me at school.

Now, there have been days when she has rejected all items in the Kit. Lately, she has become quite content with looking out the window and singing nonsensical (to me anyway) songs to herself. There are days where her refrain at every stop on the way home is “I want McDonalds!” There are even days where she yells and scream. Those are the days where we get off at the next stop and she promptly gets a time out. It might take us longer to get home, but as with all things parental, the magic lies in consistency.

The result is that 80% of the time, we have a nice  (dare I say enjoyable?) ride.

Pretty Dress.

“I wear my pretty dress?”

“Yes, you’ll wear your pretty dress.”

She dutifully took her bath with the promise of the pretty dress hanging before her on the door. An iridescent burgundy frock with embroidered green flowers and a brown sash. She suffered silently as I put not one, not two, but three pairs of tights on her. She stood looking in the mirror as I gathered her curls into a ponytail.

“Now, I get my pretty shoes?”

“Yes, you can go get your pretty shoes.”

She scurried off to put on her patent black shoes with just enough heel to give the satisfying clip-clop on the floor. She returns triumphant with her treasures on the correct feet. We put on our coats and gloves. She waits by the door as I search for the keys.

“In the hallway I’ll be shhhhh, okay, Mama?” She preempts my daily reminder meant to prevent the neighbors from the annoyance of a screaming toddler stomping through the building.

All of the pretty preparation must have been too much. She fell asleep on the train ride. Various riders smiled down upon her. The pretty girl in the pretty dress wearing the pretty shoes, sleeping so prettily.