Last night, mere minutes after I'd put Ari to bed, I heard her crying. It was a little more than just whiny or tantrum-y crying... she sounded really upset. I let it go for a while, refusing to let myself get suckered in by my toddler, but finally I decided I should check on her, in case something really was wrong.
I poked my head around her partially-shut door without her seeing me. I expected to find her out of bed, but she was still in bed, lying on her side, and I could swear her eyes were even closed. But yet she kept on sobbing--those tired, heart-breaking little cries that just sting your soul. I stood there for a few minutes, not moving, unsure of what to do. Was she asleep, and just crying in her sleep? There was no way to tell from my vantage point.
Finally, I took a chance, and called out, softly, but firmly, "Ari? Hey, baby... stop crying."
She twisted in bed so she could see me, which showed me she was awake. "Need help," she sobbed.
"What do you need help with?" I asked.
"Blankets." I noticed that a couple of her blankets were dangling over the side of her bed, and barely covering her.
"You can put your blankets on yourself," I replied, sounding a little more stern. "Now go to sleep." I turned to leave as her wails grew louder.
A few minutes later, I heard her rustling in her room and went to check again. This time, the door was flung open and the light was on. Yet she was already back in bed, lying on her side, sobbing about needing help again. I went in to her room to shut off the light (using the switch on the lamp itself, not the light switch, so that she couldn't turn it back on), and she cried even louder about needing help with her blankets.
I covered her up, telling her as I did so that she needed to stop crying and stay in bed, and I wasn't coming back in. That was the last time I was in her room--she fell asleep shortly after that.
Later that night, Tony and I were talking about the situation with her. (It started with one of us saying, "Well, I guess she's asleep--I don't hear her anymore.") I said, "I just don't know what her deal is. I'd almost think she was scared of the dark, the way she carries on, but that makes no sense. She has plenty of light in her room." (And she does--she has a dim lamp that serves as a nightlight, plus 2 light-up candles.)
Tony didn't say much and after a few more moments, I hesitantly said, "OK, this might sound a little weird, but bear with me. Maybe she just... maybe she doesn't want to grow up. I mean, we've been putting her through a lot of changes lately--taking away her binky, changing her crib into a bed, working on potty training. And we keep going on and on about what a 'big girl' she is. Maybe... she just doesn't want to be a big girl."
He considered my words, and added, "Maybe that's why she sometimes asks me to hold her like a baby and sing 'Rock-a-bye, Baby' to her."
"And maybe that's why she always wants us to carry her up and down the stairs, instead of walking herself."
Like I said, I know it sounds a little crazy--like I'm trying to psychoanalyze my 2-year-old. But she has always been a good sleeper and I am at a loss as to why that has changed. Sure, there are times when she's getting out of bed just because she can, and I have no doubt she's just taking advantage of the fact that she's big enough to get out of bed. But there are other nights, like last night, where she really and truly seems to be upset about something, and it breaks my heart to listen to her cry like that. She was fighting bedtime a little before we stole her binky and converted her crib, so I don't think my little Peter Pan theory is fully correct, but maybe that has a little something to do with it?
I know that consistency is the key when it comes to establishing rules and routines. I know I can't let myself get taken in by her crocodile tears. Truth be told, I'm pretty good at just ignoring her--turning up the TV a little louder to drown her out, and waiting for her to fall asleep, as I know she will. I keep telling myself it's just a phase, and that she'll soon be back to her normal self.
But so often I've heard people say that parenting is about instinct--that you shouldn't ignore your own inner urgings in favor of following some expert's recommendation about what's best for your child. And on nights like last night, in spite of the voice in my head shrieking, "Don't go in there! Then she's won! Don't give in! She's manipulating you!"... I just can't stop myself. Because I know all too soon, she'll be that grown-up little girl that we keep pushing her to be. That soon, she'll be reading me the bedtime stories rather than the other way around, and she'll be telling me she doesn't need a bedtime song, or that she can put her own blankets on. And maybe then, I'll be wishing I'd gone to her when she cried for me, wishing I'd taken the opportunity for one more late-night cuddle, one more kiss good-night, one more tuck-in.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Voting for change... in Ari's room *EDIT*
Let's see how I did with my To-Do List from yesterday, shall we?
1. Vote.
Check. I was really excited about going to vote last night, not only because it's my sacred right as an American citizen, but because I recently read a blog entry (I forget where) that really spoke to me. She wrote about how she's taken her son with her every single time she has voted for president--at first, it was out of necessity (she simply had nowhere else to leave him while she voted), and then it quickly became a tradition. She ended the entry by talking about how this year's election will be his first time voting all by himself. Anyway, inspired by her words, I decided to stop fretting about having to take a squirmy toddler to the polls with me, and to view it as a chance to start a similar tradition.
Naturally, the evening wasn't quite as magical as I might have hoped, despite my attempts to talk it up to her with stuff like, "Ari, we're going to go VOTE!" and "Ari, do you want to help Mommy VOTE?" She refused to stand silently with either of us, preferring instead to roam about, and when I held her while Tony voted, she writhed in my arms. But luckily, there were no lines, and we were done quickly. And then she got her very own "I voted" sticker.
But I'm not discouraged, because next time we need to vote for president, she'll be 6 years old, and this whole procedure will be slightly more meaningful to her.
2. Install child-proof lock things on Ari's drawers (and pray that she cannot figure them out).
Check, though it was really Tony who did it, while I kept the munchkin distracted and out of his way. Turns out the drawers on her dresser are not a style that's fully conducive to child locks, but we managed to rig them up. If you yank hard enough on the drawers, you can pop them out, but we're hoping the resistance will be enough of a deterrent for Ari. (What? Why are you laughing?)
3. Seriously look into the idea of finding out if her crib can actually convert into a toddler bed, instead of just musing about it out loud to each other.
I knew her crib was a convertible one, and that it could eventually convert into a full-size bed, but I wasn't sure if there was a transitional stage. It doesn't quite convert into a toddler bed--at least, not my idea of one--but it does convert into a day bed. Basically, all we did was remove the movable side railing (which was down all the time anyway) and install a small guardrail that ran about parallel with the top edge of the mattress.
And then we proceeded to make a huge deal about the bed. We encouraged her to climb in and out and filled her head with propoganda about her awesome "big-girl bed" and how "big girls stay in bed." We even both made a slightly bigger deal about bedtime--we both put her bed together, again singing the praises of her big-girl bed and reminding her of "the rules."
Of course, things did not go smoothly, as things with toddlers rarely do. She still sobbed at us to leave her door open (which we did, with our compromise of opening it halfway), and she still got out of bed once or twice. But it was not the worst night ever, and as Tony wisely pointed it, "If this is the worst issue we have to deal with at bedtime, we're pretty lucky." And he's right. I mean, at least she's not screaming down the house for hours every night.
The only problem is that the "guardrail" kind of fails in the "guard" department. I checked on Ari once last night, and she was lying with her back along the guardrail, and hanging slightly over the edge. I really don't know how she maintained that balance, because she looked like she should be toppling out. Luckily, it's not a long fall to the floor, but still--we may need to go search for a better guardrail.
4. If said crib will not turn into a toddler bed, go to walmart.com and order cute little toddler bed I found last night.
N/A. (See above.)
5. Eat chocolate.
Crap. I knew I forgot something.
***** EDIT *****
Just wanted to add a couple Ari pics. She had some crazy hair going on after her nap today, and I had to get photos for future blackmailing purposes.
By the way, she gets that insanely curly hair from me. Sure, it looks cute now, but wait until it starts to thicken like mine and get really unruly. Then it won't be quite so fun.
She and Ivan pretty much adore each other.
Oh, and also, here's a picture of her newly-revised bed, complete with the poser guardrail that really guards nothing. (Unless it's meant to only guard the mattress from sliding off the bed, in which case, it's doing a stellar job.)
1. Vote.
Check. I was really excited about going to vote last night, not only because it's my sacred right as an American citizen, but because I recently read a blog entry (I forget where) that really spoke to me. She wrote about how she's taken her son with her every single time she has voted for president--at first, it was out of necessity (she simply had nowhere else to leave him while she voted), and then it quickly became a tradition. She ended the entry by talking about how this year's election will be his first time voting all by himself. Anyway, inspired by her words, I decided to stop fretting about having to take a squirmy toddler to the polls with me, and to view it as a chance to start a similar tradition.
Naturally, the evening wasn't quite as magical as I might have hoped, despite my attempts to talk it up to her with stuff like, "Ari, we're going to go VOTE!" and "Ari, do you want to help Mommy VOTE?" She refused to stand silently with either of us, preferring instead to roam about, and when I held her while Tony voted, she writhed in my arms. But luckily, there were no lines, and we were done quickly. And then she got her very own "I voted" sticker.
But I'm not discouraged, because next time we need to vote for president, she'll be 6 years old, and this whole procedure will be slightly more meaningful to her.
2. Install child-proof lock things on Ari's drawers (and pray that she cannot figure them out).
Check, though it was really Tony who did it, while I kept the munchkin distracted and out of his way. Turns out the drawers on her dresser are not a style that's fully conducive to child locks, but we managed to rig them up. If you yank hard enough on the drawers, you can pop them out, but we're hoping the resistance will be enough of a deterrent for Ari. (What? Why are you laughing?)
3. Seriously look into the idea of finding out if her crib can actually convert into a toddler bed, instead of just musing about it out loud to each other.
I knew her crib was a convertible one, and that it could eventually convert into a full-size bed, but I wasn't sure if there was a transitional stage. It doesn't quite convert into a toddler bed--at least, not my idea of one--but it does convert into a day bed. Basically, all we did was remove the movable side railing (which was down all the time anyway) and install a small guardrail that ran about parallel with the top edge of the mattress.
And then we proceeded to make a huge deal about the bed. We encouraged her to climb in and out and filled her head with propoganda about her awesome "big-girl bed" and how "big girls stay in bed." We even both made a slightly bigger deal about bedtime--we both put her bed together, again singing the praises of her big-girl bed and reminding her of "the rules."
Of course, things did not go smoothly, as things with toddlers rarely do. She still sobbed at us to leave her door open (which we did, with our compromise of opening it halfway), and she still got out of bed once or twice. But it was not the worst night ever, and as Tony wisely pointed it, "If this is the worst issue we have to deal with at bedtime, we're pretty lucky." And he's right. I mean, at least she's not screaming down the house for hours every night.
The only problem is that the "guardrail" kind of fails in the "guard" department. I checked on Ari once last night, and she was lying with her back along the guardrail, and hanging slightly over the edge. I really don't know how she maintained that balance, because she looked like she should be toppling out. Luckily, it's not a long fall to the floor, but still--we may need to go search for a better guardrail.
4. If said crib will not turn into a toddler bed, go to walmart.com and order cute little toddler bed I found last night.
N/A. (See above.)
5. Eat chocolate.
Crap. I knew I forgot something.
***** EDIT *****
Just wanted to add a couple Ari pics. She had some crazy hair going on after her nap today, and I had to get photos for future blackmailing purposes.
By the way, she gets that insanely curly hair from me. Sure, it looks cute now, but wait until it starts to thicken like mine and get really unruly. Then it won't be quite so fun.
She and Ivan pretty much adore each other.
Oh, and also, here's a picture of her newly-revised bed, complete with the poser guardrail that really guards nothing. (Unless it's meant to only guard the mattress from sliding off the bed, in which case, it's doing a stellar job.)
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Of course you realize, this means war
The Bedtime Battle continues... though now I am tempted to call it a war. Ari has just discovered that by pulling a stool or a chair up to the wall, she can reach the light switches. It was very cute when she was doing it downstairs--but not so cute when she decided to do it after being put to bed last night. Tony and I tag-teamed, taking turns going up and telling her to get back in bed. One time when Tony found her, she had the light on, and was sitting quietly on the floor, reading a book. He recounted the story to me with a smile. "It's a little hard to yell at her when she's being kind of good."
Fortunately for us, she made our job easier by pulling off the master of all pranks. It was Tony's turn to go up to her, and moments later, he hollered, "Saraaaa!" I groaned inwardly as I headed upstairs--if he needed my help for some reason, this was not a good sign.
I saw Tony standing at the top of the stairs, looking into her room with a grim expression on his face. As I turned the corner, I gasped. Her floor was covered in clothing, shoes, bibs and diapers. She had emptied out her entire dresser--all 3 drawers plus the "tower" portion on the side (where we keep spare diapers, all her old bibs, etc.). There have been times in the past where she's emptied just the tower, or dumped the contents of the baskets we keep on top of that tower (which, miraculously, were untouched this time). But she has never made this much of a mess.
We've been saying for a couple weeks now that we really need to install child-proof locks on her drawers. I grumbled to Tony, "I don't care what happens--we are definitely putting those locks on her drawers tomorrow night."
I honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the mess--on the one hand, it was somewhat comical. But on the other hand, I had to clean it all up. I gave Ari a short lecture about how this was "very bad" and "very naughty," and then, in my harshest Stern-Mommy voice, "You are going to help me clean this all up NOW."
She immediately grabbed a handful of diapers, handed them to me, and sweetly said, "Here you go, Mommy." No sooner had I taken them from her when she grabbed another batch. Since my hands were full, she dumped them in my lap and turned to pick up more. I had to turn my head away from her to hide my laughter. How dare she be so adorable when I was trying so hard to be mad at her?
So, tonight's To-Do List is as follows...
1. Vote.
2. Install child-proof lock things on Ari's drawers (and pray that she cannot figure them out).
3. Seriously look into the idea of finding out if her crib can actually convert into a toddler bed, instead of just musing about it out loud to each other.
4. If said crib will not turn into a toddler bed, go to walmart.com and order cute little toddler bed I found last night.
5. Eat chocolate. (Hey, that's always on the To-Do List. Priorities? I haz them.)
Fortunately for us, she made our job easier by pulling off the master of all pranks. It was Tony's turn to go up to her, and moments later, he hollered, "Saraaaa!" I groaned inwardly as I headed upstairs--if he needed my help for some reason, this was not a good sign.
I saw Tony standing at the top of the stairs, looking into her room with a grim expression on his face. As I turned the corner, I gasped. Her floor was covered in clothing, shoes, bibs and diapers. She had emptied out her entire dresser--all 3 drawers plus the "tower" portion on the side (where we keep spare diapers, all her old bibs, etc.). There have been times in the past where she's emptied just the tower, or dumped the contents of the baskets we keep on top of that tower (which, miraculously, were untouched this time). But she has never made this much of a mess.
We've been saying for a couple weeks now that we really need to install child-proof locks on her drawers. I grumbled to Tony, "I don't care what happens--we are definitely putting those locks on her drawers tomorrow night."
I honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the mess--on the one hand, it was somewhat comical. But on the other hand, I had to clean it all up. I gave Ari a short lecture about how this was "very bad" and "very naughty," and then, in my harshest Stern-Mommy voice, "You are going to help me clean this all up NOW."
She immediately grabbed a handful of diapers, handed them to me, and sweetly said, "Here you go, Mommy." No sooner had I taken them from her when she grabbed another batch. Since my hands were full, she dumped them in my lap and turned to pick up more. I had to turn my head away from her to hide my laughter. How dare she be so adorable when I was trying so hard to be mad at her?
So, tonight's To-Do List is as follows...
1. Vote.
2. Install child-proof lock things on Ari's drawers (and pray that she cannot figure them out).
3. Seriously look into the idea of finding out if her crib can actually convert into a toddler bed, instead of just musing about it out loud to each other.
4. If said crib will not turn into a toddler bed, go to walmart.com and order cute little toddler bed I found last night.
5. Eat chocolate. (Hey, that's always on the To-Do List. Priorities? I haz them.)
Monday, November 3, 2008
"I Think..."
Writing prompt: Write a letter to your younger self.
DATE: October 16, 1994
I think about you every day,
And I can't help but smile;
I think of our deep friendship,
Though I've known you just a short while.
I think about your gentleness,
And how you've always cared about me;
I think about your sweet, kind heart--
You always know what's right to say to me.
I think about that look in your eyes,
And wonder what it might mean;
I think of that look's intensity,
And wonder if this is just a dream.
And through all this pensive wondering,
I've discovered something new--
And I could be wrong, but for now,
I think I'm falling in love with you.
I stared at the words I'd just written, and smirked a little. It was cheesy, I knew--I'd thrown those words on paper without a lot of thought. And besides the technical aspects of it, the very idea behind it was absurd. I'd only met Tony a little over a month ago--he was in my Biology lab, and he'd introduced himself to me on my first day and helped me find the teacher, since I had just added that class to my schedule. We'd very quickly become close friends. Through him, I met a lot of other people, and now, we had almost the same circle of friends. But "love"? Really? That was silly. Sure, he was a great friend, but there's no way I could be "in love" with him already. I'm only 17, I thought, shaking my head at my own foolishness. That's way too young to be seriously falling in love with someone.
I re-read my words, and almost crumpled up the sheet to throw it away. But something stopped me, and instead, I opened a drawer to find a notebook to put it into.
As I peeked in the drawer, I saw an unassuming white envelope sitting on top of my notebook. That wasn't there yesterday, I thought, ...was it? I filed the poem away in the notebook, and then pulled out the letter. It looked "fresh"--the envelope and paper were still crisp and white, and the ink was vibrant. I began to read.
DATE: October 16, 1994
I think about you every day,
And I can't help but smile;
I think of our deep friendship,
Though I've known you just a short while.
I think about your gentleness,
And how you've always cared about me;
I think about your sweet, kind heart--
You always know what's right to say to me.
I think about that look in your eyes,
And wonder what it might mean;
I think of that look's intensity,
And wonder if this is just a dream.
And through all this pensive wondering,
I've discovered something new--
And I could be wrong, but for now,
I think I'm falling in love with you.
I stared at the words I'd just written, and smirked a little. It was cheesy, I knew--I'd thrown those words on paper without a lot of thought. And besides the technical aspects of it, the very idea behind it was absurd. I'd only met Tony a little over a month ago--he was in my Biology lab, and he'd introduced himself to me on my first day and helped me find the teacher, since I had just added that class to my schedule. We'd very quickly become close friends. Through him, I met a lot of other people, and now, we had almost the same circle of friends. But "love"? Really? That was silly. Sure, he was a great friend, but there's no way I could be "in love" with him already. I'm only 17, I thought, shaking my head at my own foolishness. That's way too young to be seriously falling in love with someone.
I re-read my words, and almost crumpled up the sheet to throw it away. But something stopped me, and instead, I opened a drawer to find a notebook to put it into.
As I peeked in the drawer, I saw an unassuming white envelope sitting on top of my notebook. That wasn't there yesterday, I thought, ...was it? I filed the poem away in the notebook, and then pulled out the letter. It looked "fresh"--the envelope and paper were still crisp and white, and the ink was vibrant. I began to read.
Dear Sara,
OK, this is going to sound really weird, but bear with me. The person who wrote this letter is me. I mean, you. I mean, this is a future version of you. Don't ask me to explain, because there's no way I could. You're just going to have to have faith to accept that the Sara of the Future has found a way to communicate with the Sara of the Past. Well, "Present" to you. Whatever. Anyway, this is the Sara of 2008--your 31-year-old self.
I was given the task of writing a letter to my younger self, and I thought long and hard about who I would write to. Would I write to the broken-hearted 9-year-old girl who lost her grandmother to a battle with cancer? Would I write to the devastated 11-year-old who had just been told she was moving and leaving all her friends behind? Would I write to the shy 16-year-old whose world seemed to fall apart after her boyfriend turned his back on her? It could have been easy enough to write to you/myself at any sad moment of the past, and fill the letter with platitudes like, "You're going to get through this" and "Everything will be fine." But I honestly wasn't sure how much good that would do.
So I decided to write to you/myself at 17... and now you're probably wondering why. Well, see, it's about that poem you just wrote. Yes, I remember it. And I know it was about Tony. Maybe you're thinking, How in the world do you remember one poem you wrote over 14 years ago? And the only answer I can give you is... because you were right. You're struggling with these new feelings and trying to deny that you're in love, but you know what? You are in love. So don't fight it.
Of course, you still have a long way to go--after all, as you've often thought, you're only 17, which is far too young to get married. But you will marry him. Ad you're going to be happier than you ever dreamed possible.
Maybe you don't believe any of this, but if you've read this far, there must be some part of you that wonders if this is true. I'm not going to tell you anymore than this (and maybe I've already said too much), but I just wanted you to know that you're not crazy, and you should definitely keep that poem. You're going to love re-reading it over the years.
Love always,
Sara of 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Halloween pictures/videos
Trick-or-treating last night was a rousing success, if such success is measured in the amount of candy gained. Ari's bag was bulging by the time we were done, and she seemed to really enjoy herself this year. We still had to prompt her to say "trick or treat" and "thank you" but she definitely understood the concept (free candy!) this year.
So, here I am with Halloween pictures. All except the first one were taken today because someone (I'm not naming names, but it wasn't me, and it wasn't Ari) forgot the camera last night. But it actually works out fine, because now you can see her dress without the dorky long-sleeved shirt underneath.
First of all, here are the pumpkins Tony and Ari carved yesterday. Lit up last night... (yeah, I was too lazy to relight the small one)
And this morning...
They did a good job, huh?
Ari's making a weird face in this one, but it's the only shot I got where you can see her shoes. She wore more comfortable shoes to walk around in last night, but these shoes are the ones that actually match her dress (and conveniently, they are shoes she already owned).
Another weird face (*sigh*), but you can see her crown here. The crown was Tony's idea--he swiped it from a Belle doll Ari has. She actually didn't want to wear it last night, so I wore it instead.
She was way too excited about this popcorn ball. ($20 says she won't even eat the thing.)
Some people gave out full-size candy bars--score!
She was trying (in vain) to open her lollipop. (Notice the crown is gone.)
Then she unloaded her goody bag, proudly showing off all her candy.
I tried to get her to stand on her table so I could get a full-length shot of her dress, but she crawled up on the changing table instead and attempted to squirm out of her dress. So I took that as a sign that the photo session was over.
And last but not least... videos!
Ariana Halloween 1 from Sariana on Vimeo.
Ariana Halloween 2 from Sariana on Vimeo.
That's all, folks!
OK, for some reason, the link for "Comments" isn't showing up. I'm thinking it has something to do with the videos at the end? Who knows. I keep trying to fix it, and it seems fixed, and then the link disappears again. So, if you're having trouble leaving a comment... I don't really know how to help you. Which makes this a really pointless paragraph. ;)
So, here I am with Halloween pictures. All except the first one were taken today because someone (I'm not naming names, but it wasn't me, and it wasn't Ari) forgot the camera last night. But it actually works out fine, because now you can see her dress without the dorky long-sleeved shirt underneath.
First of all, here are the pumpkins Tony and Ari carved yesterday. Lit up last night... (yeah, I was too lazy to relight the small one)
And this morning...
They did a good job, huh?
Ari's making a weird face in this one, but it's the only shot I got where you can see her shoes. She wore more comfortable shoes to walk around in last night, but these shoes are the ones that actually match her dress (and conveniently, they are shoes she already owned).
Another weird face (*sigh*), but you can see her crown here. The crown was Tony's idea--he swiped it from a Belle doll Ari has. She actually didn't want to wear it last night, so I wore it instead.
She was way too excited about this popcorn ball. ($20 says she won't even eat the thing.)
Some people gave out full-size candy bars--score!
She was trying (in vain) to open her lollipop. (Notice the crown is gone.)
Then she unloaded her goody bag, proudly showing off all her candy.
I tried to get her to stand on her table so I could get a full-length shot of her dress, but she crawled up on the changing table instead and attempted to squirm out of her dress. So I took that as a sign that the photo session was over.
And last but not least... videos!
Ariana Halloween 1 from Sariana on Vimeo.
Ariana Halloween 2 from Sariana on Vimeo.
That's all, folks!
OK, for some reason, the link for "Comments" isn't showing up. I'm thinking it has something to do with the videos at the end? Who knows. I keep trying to fix it, and it seems fixed, and then the link disappears again. So, if you're having trouble leaving a comment... I don't really know how to help you. Which makes this a really pointless paragraph. ;)
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