Calliope has a special fondness for the word "too," and likes to sprinkle into sentences wherever she can. So, for example, if I'm doing something, she says, "I help you, too." Even though she's just "helping," not "helping too." She also likes to invite me to do things with her, like going to her bedroom, "Mommy come, too?" (Where a simple "Mommy come?" would suffice.)
A phrase that can be funny, or decidedly unfunny, depending on my mood, is "Give it back to me!" With or without a "please" tacked on to the end. She uses this even when it's something of mine that she's never had. It sounds very grown up and obnoxious, which sometimes cracks me up. Just because I'm not used to hearing this sort of mature attitude from my twenty-six month old.
Yesterday she woke up from her two hour afternoon nap in a foul mood. She kept asking for "the pink medicine" (amoxicillin), which she has grown to love, especially because she gets a square of dark chocolate for cooperating (I tried other rewards, like Skittles, but my girl likes her dark chocolate... she gets her good taste from her mother, I suppose). And it was too early for her medication, so I would say, "you can have it at dinnertime." And then she would ask for her chewable vitamin -- "the purple medicine" (even though the color varies from pink to orange to purple) and I would say, "You already had your vitamin today. You can have another one tomorrow."
I read this blog post once, by a single dad, I think. And he said he tried to challenge himself to never use the word "no" in response to a request from his child. But to try to find a way to say yes, no matter what. And I've been trying to do that. So it's "yes, you can have your vitamin... tomorrow" or "yes, we can go to the playground... tomorrow" or "you can have some milk if you're still hungry (after choosing to skip dinner)." And it usually works brilliantly.
But nothing was working yesterday. She was a flailing, sobbing, screaming, melting mess. I tried. I tried so hard. From the moment she woke up, crying. I tried emphasizing. And rocking. And distracting. And nothing worked.
And with one last screaming of "give it back to me!" I was done. After forty-five minutes of effort, I was all used up. And pissy and resentful. I was trying so hard to be nice, dammit, and I deserved to be treated better than that.Trying to get her out the door to the bike store and her refusing to put on her coat, to put on her shoes, to sit in the bike seat. I scooped her up and dumped her in her crib. With her shoes on. And shut the door. Firmly. Leaving her screaming in the dark.
And went to the living room and played the banjo for a few minutes. It felt like a long time, but I'm sure it was less than five minutes.
She stopped screaming and started to sob "all done. All done please." So I went back to her room and picked up. I carried her back to the living room to try to get ready to leave again. She asked for medicine, again. I said, "No Calliope. I'm not having this conversation with you again."
Commence screaming.
Toddler is unceremoniously scooped up and dumped back into the crib in the dark room.
More screaming. Then sobbing "all done" again.
I returned once again. She held up her arms to be picked up and did not ask about medicine again.
Thank god.
She did, however, ask about chocolate. But didn't melt down this time when I said no.
I offered a ride in a baby carrier, and she gratefully accepted. Still refused to put on her coat, but I reasoned that being snuggled against me and inside a heavy carrier would keep her warm.
So I carried her on my chest -- couldn't get her on my back with my thick fleece coat -- and wheeled the bike. My back was aching after a few blocks. Leaning over the bike with twenty-four pounds of lanky toddler on my front was exhausting. And then the bike store was closed.
But by the time we were heading back, she had cheered up, and consented to sit in the baby seat of the bike. Phew. And we got back upstairs and inside the apartment and she started chatting as if nothing had happened.
And for the first time, I held a grudge. I didn't want to chat. I wanted her to go to bed. I was mad. I didn't like being screamed at.
But I dutifully fed her -- finally, many hours after her last meal, she agreed to eat -- she picked carrots with hummus and apple slices with peanut butter as her dinner, and I readily agreed. And put her to bed afterwards, completely exhausted.
I don't ever remember being so frustrated with my child before. I've never seen her in a tantrum like this before. Just fully, completely, 100% out of control. She's lost it before, definitely, but not in a protracted way like that. I've no idea if the crib time out was the right thing to do or not, but it was clear that we both needed a break and since she loves her crib, I don't think she was traumatized.
Luckily we both got a good night's sleep and all was happy between us today. But that feeling of frustration and anger was not a welcome one. I hope we don't experience that again soon.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
...And a Third Trip to the Doctor In a Week... Scratch That, a FOURTH Trip in Ten Days
Calliope's fever didn't get better on Thursday.
And Friday, she woke up crying at 5:30 am with a fever of 105. 105!
Yikes. My eyes almost popped out of my head. I knew it wasn't really dangerous, but it sure freaked me out.
I gave her some Motrin and put her back to bed, but was totally incapable of falling back to sleep myself with thoughts of that scary fever in my head.
Showing considerable restraint, I didn't text the doctor until 6:30 am. She eventually responded, after 8, saying to wait another 24 hours unless Calliope started showing any signs of difficulty breathing.
I called in sick, and resigned myself to another day at home. But once the Motrin kicked in, she was pretty cheerful. And Eleanor arrived early that day, and Calliope was so pleased to see her.
So I went with the girls and the babysitter to Tot Shabbat. Which was a hoot. I've been wanting to go for ages, but of course, I'm always at work.
The girls had a great time and afterwards, since it was raining out, they burned off some steam by running up and down the aisles and between the seats of the pews. Very, very cute.
Calliope seemed fine until the Motrin wore off, except that she refused to eat anything. In fact, she'd hadn't been eating much at all since her fever the previous weekend, but now she wanted nothing except a couple of ounces of milk here or there. After the nap, with the Motrin not working well, she was a mess.
She was up bright and early the next morning, once again with a fever, but only 101.5. I debated if I was being crazy to bring her to the doctor -- I didn't pick someone convenient, but rather, someone I really respect -- or crazy to consider not bringing her to the doctor.
Off we went. And I'm so glad I did. Because she had a raging ear infection. The doctor said that if the fever had been from the flu vaccine, it would've only lasted 24-36 hours, maximum. So the fever had been due to the cold she had had the previous weekend, which circled back around and descended into her ears. The flu vaccine was unrelated to her illness. Phew! Because I'd been feeling very guilty, indeed, for giving it to her. (I had given it to her myself, at home, or it would have been four doctor visits in one week.) Still, this was a good reminder not to practice medicine on my own child. The potential consequences are just too big, and my brain doesn't work well when I'm too close.
I was even more that afternoon, when her fever spiked over 103 that afternoon, and I still couldn't get her to eat anything, and only took a few sips of water. She lay limply in my lap, wailing. Tears and snot coursing down her face.
I called the doctor back but he wasn't concerned. Said I just had to wait for the antibiotics to kick in.
Her temperature was back up this morning, to 104.3, even with Motrin in her system, and I was getting increasingly worried that I'd be missing work once again tomorrow -- he'd said to come back if the fever lasted 48 hours.
But thank goodness, the fever broke this afternoon! And she slept longer than she had in a week. Woke up in yet another foul mood.... but armed with a ziploc baggie with one square of dark chocolate (her choice), she didn't fight me tonight in taking the antibiotics. Phew! I had my downstairs neighbor ready to hold down her hands, but thank god it wasn't necessary.
... And now, four days after I wrote the first part of this post, I'd like to add that there was a fourth visit to the doctor. On Monday, as I was putting Calliope's pajamas on, I noticed a bumpy rash all over her chest, back, and neck, and extending up her neck and onto her face.
I was sure it was a penicillin reaction at first, but after texting my pediatrician (how can I ever leave this practice where I have her cell phone number? even if she's so geographically undesirable???) and talking to my medical director, plus consulting Dr. Google, I realized it might be a viral rash.
I took Calliope to our FOURTH doctor visit in ten days early the next morning.
Yes, it was a "viral exanthem" -- a random rash that a baby or toddler gets as part of a virus. The pediatrician had tentatively given Calliope a diagnosis of roseola once before, though maybe that was wrong and this was the real case. Or maybe, as the pediatrician said, she got it twice. (I have my doubts about that.) But the high fever that goes along with roseola (and which disappears right before the rash makes its appearance) also made sense with her ear infection. So I may never be able to tease the symptoms apart.
So in summary, that's: one round of wheezing (with a tight sounding cough for several days), one ear infection, one viral rash, one flu vaccine, and two rounds of fever (for a total of six feverish days) in the past ten days.
Plus the aforementioned four visits to the doctor (which doesn't include the flu vaccine which she got at home).
I'm hoping for a few healthy weeks, at least. I fear that if another cold comes along, her lungs will not be up for the challenge. She's still got a deep productive cough that isn't all that frequent but still sounds pretty unpleasant when it happens.
And Friday, she woke up crying at 5:30 am with a fever of 105. 105!
Yikes. My eyes almost popped out of my head. I knew it wasn't really dangerous, but it sure freaked me out.
I gave her some Motrin and put her back to bed, but was totally incapable of falling back to sleep myself with thoughts of that scary fever in my head.
Showing considerable restraint, I didn't text the doctor until 6:30 am. She eventually responded, after 8, saying to wait another 24 hours unless Calliope started showing any signs of difficulty breathing.
I called in sick, and resigned myself to another day at home. But once the Motrin kicked in, she was pretty cheerful. And Eleanor arrived early that day, and Calliope was so pleased to see her.
So I went with the girls and the babysitter to Tot Shabbat. Which was a hoot. I've been wanting to go for ages, but of course, I'm always at work.
The girls had a great time and afterwards, since it was raining out, they burned off some steam by running up and down the aisles and between the seats of the pews. Very, very cute.
Calliope seemed fine until the Motrin wore off, except that she refused to eat anything. In fact, she'd hadn't been eating much at all since her fever the previous weekend, but now she wanted nothing except a couple of ounces of milk here or there. After the nap, with the Motrin not working well, she was a mess.
She was up bright and early the next morning, once again with a fever, but only 101.5. I debated if I was being crazy to bring her to the doctor -- I didn't pick someone convenient, but rather, someone I really respect -- or crazy to consider not bringing her to the doctor.
Off we went. And I'm so glad I did. Because she had a raging ear infection. The doctor said that if the fever had been from the flu vaccine, it would've only lasted 24-36 hours, maximum. So the fever had been due to the cold she had had the previous weekend, which circled back around and descended into her ears. The flu vaccine was unrelated to her illness. Phew! Because I'd been feeling very guilty, indeed, for giving it to her. (I had given it to her myself, at home, or it would have been four doctor visits in one week.) Still, this was a good reminder not to practice medicine on my own child. The potential consequences are just too big, and my brain doesn't work well when I'm too close.
I was even more that afternoon, when her fever spiked over 103 that afternoon, and I still couldn't get her to eat anything, and only took a few sips of water. She lay limply in my lap, wailing. Tears and snot coursing down her face.
I called the doctor back but he wasn't concerned. Said I just had to wait for the antibiotics to kick in.
Her temperature was back up this morning, to 104.3, even with Motrin in her system, and I was getting increasingly worried that I'd be missing work once again tomorrow -- he'd said to come back if the fever lasted 48 hours.
But thank goodness, the fever broke this afternoon! And she slept longer than she had in a week. Woke up in yet another foul mood.... but armed with a ziploc baggie with one square of dark chocolate (her choice), she didn't fight me tonight in taking the antibiotics. Phew! I had my downstairs neighbor ready to hold down her hands, but thank god it wasn't necessary.
... And now, four days after I wrote the first part of this post, I'd like to add that there was a fourth visit to the doctor. On Monday, as I was putting Calliope's pajamas on, I noticed a bumpy rash all over her chest, back, and neck, and extending up her neck and onto her face.
I was sure it was a penicillin reaction at first, but after texting my pediatrician (how can I ever leave this practice where I have her cell phone number? even if she's so geographically undesirable???) and talking to my medical director, plus consulting Dr. Google, I realized it might be a viral rash.
I took Calliope to our FOURTH doctor visit in ten days early the next morning.
Yes, it was a "viral exanthem" -- a random rash that a baby or toddler gets as part of a virus. The pediatrician had tentatively given Calliope a diagnosis of roseola once before, though maybe that was wrong and this was the real case. Or maybe, as the pediatrician said, she got it twice. (I have my doubts about that.) But the high fever that goes along with roseola (and which disappears right before the rash makes its appearance) also made sense with her ear infection. So I may never be able to tease the symptoms apart.
So in summary, that's: one round of wheezing (with a tight sounding cough for several days), one ear infection, one viral rash, one flu vaccine, and two rounds of fever (for a total of six feverish days) in the past ten days.
Plus the aforementioned four visits to the doctor (which doesn't include the flu vaccine which she got at home).
I'm hoping for a few healthy weeks, at least. I fear that if another cold comes along, her lungs will not be up for the challenge. She's still got a deep productive cough that isn't all that frequent but still sounds pretty unpleasant when it happens.
 |
| The patient. On doctor visit three of four. Looking pretty cheerful
despite ear infection, fever, and those puffy eyes.
"Talking" to Grammy on the play phone at the office. |
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Two Doctor Visits in One Week
Saturday morning Calliope woke up with a fever. Not long after, I noticed she sounded wheezy and was retracting, using lots of accessory muscles in her neck and chest to breathe. I listened to her with one of my back up stethoscopes though, and she sounded clear. But listening to her tinny-sounding cough, she just didn't seem right.
I woke up Old Flame, who was visiting once again, and asked him what he thought. He suggested rubbing Vicks on her chest, which made me throw up my hands in frustration. As much as it may feel effective to some folks, there's no scientific evidence supporting its use. And anyway, why was I asking someone else to decide this for me???
Finally I said we would go to go to the doctor, and Old Flame kindly agreed to drive us.
The doctor -- not our regular one, but one who used to be my boss's boss, so I certainly know him -- had no difficulty hearing Calliope's wheezing. Which made me feel both relieved and idiotic. He ordered Calliope's first nebulizer treatment.
What a nightmare. She hated it. She kicked, screamed, flailed, and hit me as I tried to hold the mask on her face to let the vaporized medicine do its work. Tears were pouring down her face and I struggled to maintain my grip on her and weirdly, kept giggling.
Finally, a third of the way through the treatment, I couldn't safely hold her on the exam table anymore. I turned it off and the doctor declared her well enough to send her on her way... I promised to use an inhaler and spacer for her in lieu of the loathsome nebulizer.)
She was tired after that misery, but I had promised we would ride the carousel as a reward, so my long-suffering girl got not one but two rides on Jane's Carousel under the Brooklyn Bridge.
She seemed to think it was worth it.
She was better on Sunday, though still had a low grade fever. She continued to improve during the week, so Wednesday after work, I gave her the flu shot. I was afraid of forgetting, and the doctor had said the cough could last for up to two weeks, and I didn't want to wait that long.
So she woke up this morning, Thursday, with a fever of 102. And now I didn't have any way of knowing if the fever was a reaction to the flu vaccine (*** not the same as getting the flu from the vaccine) or if her cold was getting worse again. After all, her nose was awfully runny, she kept shoving her whole hand in her mouth (no, no sign of teething), and she still has an occasional deep chesty cough.
Back to the doctor we went. Where we were given the all clear -- it's just a vaccine reaction. But that didn't stop her from being pretty miserable. Especially since I forgot to bring Motrin along.
She seemed better after Motrin and a very long nap, so we went out trick or eating with her friend Eleanor and her mother, Amy. But she was very subdued and shy about saying "Trick or treat!" and eventually refused to participate. We went back to Amy's and she enjoyed playing... but when we got home I realized that she still had a fever. No wonder she didn't want to trick or treat.
We have a back up babysitter tomorrow and I'm going to feel awfully guilty about leaving her if she still has a fever. Even though I know she's fine. It's hard when my girl needs me and I feel like I ought to be somewhere else.
I woke up Old Flame, who was visiting once again, and asked him what he thought. He suggested rubbing Vicks on her chest, which made me throw up my hands in frustration. As much as it may feel effective to some folks, there's no scientific evidence supporting its use. And anyway, why was I asking someone else to decide this for me???
Finally I said we would go to go to the doctor, and Old Flame kindly agreed to drive us.
The doctor -- not our regular one, but one who used to be my boss's boss, so I certainly know him -- had no difficulty hearing Calliope's wheezing. Which made me feel both relieved and idiotic. He ordered Calliope's first nebulizer treatment.
What a nightmare. She hated it. She kicked, screamed, flailed, and hit me as I tried to hold the mask on her face to let the vaporized medicine do its work. Tears were pouring down her face and I struggled to maintain my grip on her and weirdly, kept giggling.
Finally, a third of the way through the treatment, I couldn't safely hold her on the exam table anymore. I turned it off and the doctor declared her well enough to send her on her way... I promised to use an inhaler and spacer for her in lieu of the loathsome nebulizer.)
She was tired after that misery, but I had promised we would ride the carousel as a reward, so my long-suffering girl got not one but two rides on Jane's Carousel under the Brooklyn Bridge.
She seemed to think it was worth it.
She was better on Sunday, though still had a low grade fever. She continued to improve during the week, so Wednesday after work, I gave her the flu shot. I was afraid of forgetting, and the doctor had said the cough could last for up to two weeks, and I didn't want to wait that long.
So she woke up this morning, Thursday, with a fever of 102. And now I didn't have any way of knowing if the fever was a reaction to the flu vaccine (*** not the same as getting the flu from the vaccine) or if her cold was getting worse again. After all, her nose was awfully runny, she kept shoving her whole hand in her mouth (no, no sign of teething), and she still has an occasional deep chesty cough.
Back to the doctor we went. Where we were given the all clear -- it's just a vaccine reaction. But that didn't stop her from being pretty miserable. Especially since I forgot to bring Motrin along.
She seemed better after Motrin and a very long nap, so we went out trick or eating with her friend Eleanor and her mother, Amy. But she was very subdued and shy about saying "Trick or treat!" and eventually refused to participate. We went back to Amy's and she enjoyed playing... but when we got home I realized that she still had a fever. No wonder she didn't want to trick or treat.
We have a back up babysitter tomorrow and I'm going to feel awfully guilty about leaving her if she still has a fever. Even though I know she's fine. It's hard when my girl needs me and I feel like I ought to be somewhere else.
Monday, October 28, 2013
A Sad Day for Our SMC Community and Beyond
One of our own lost her battle to breast cancer today. From what I know, although she knew she was terminal, she did not know the end was near. Just last weekend, she helped her two school aged daughters to host a Halloween party, because her youngest loved Halloween "and I don't know if I will be around for another Halloween."
Just a few days later, and just two days after her last post on the SMC Forum, she's gone.
I will remember Janice as a thoughtful soul with great insight as a parent and as a human being. She seemed to see the best in others. And her sensitivity in raising her two beloved daughters, despite her prognosis, was inspiring.
My heart is breaking for you and your girls, dear Janice. The world is a little bit darker without you in it.
Rabbi Janice, age 54, passed away Oct. 25, 2013, beloved daughter of Felix & Erica Garfunkel of Dayton, OH, devoted mother of Aliza & Eliana Garfunkel, dear sister of David (Isabella) Garfunkel of Closter, NJ & Michael Garfunkel. Graveside services Sunday, Oct. 27, 3:00 P.M. at Beth Jacob Cemetery, 4001 Old Troy Pike, Dayton, OH 45404. Minyan services will be held Sunday 7:00 P.M. at the residence of Felix & Erica Garfunkel & Monday 7:00 P.M. at Janice's residence. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions to Hebrew Union College would be appreciated
- See more at: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/cincinnati/obituary.aspx?n=janice-garfunkel&pid=167700021&fhid=27761#sthash.cd9oQfsg.dpuf
Just a few days later, and just two days after her last post on the SMC Forum, she's gone.
I will remember Janice as a thoughtful soul with great insight as a parent and as a human being. She seemed to see the best in others. And her sensitivity in raising her two beloved daughters, despite her prognosis, was inspiring.
My heart is breaking for you and your girls, dear Janice. The world is a little bit darker without you in it.
Rabbi Janice, age 54, passed away Oct. 25, 2013, beloved daughter of Felix & Erica Garfunkel of Dayton, OH, devoted mother of Aliza & Eliana Garfunkel, dear sister of David (Isabella) Garfunkel of Closter, NJ & Michael Garfunkel. Graveside services Sunday, Oct. 27, 3:00 P.M. at Beth Jacob Cemetery, 4001 Old Troy Pike, Dayton, OH 45404. Minyan services will be held Sunday 7:00 P.M. at the residence of Felix & Erica Garfunkel & Monday 7:00 P.M. at Janice's residence. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions to Hebrew Union College would be appreciated
- See more at: http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/cincinnati/obituary.aspx?n=janice-garfunkel&pid=167700021&fhid=27761#sthash.cd9oQfsg.dpuf
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Nanny Changes
Well, after a month of Calliope entirely ignoring the new nanny in my presence, but crying when I left for work... and after the playschool teacher commenting that Calliope and Eleanor didn't seem bonded to the nanny "yet"... and after my coming home and finding the girls eating apple slices while buckled into their high chairs, unsupervised, with the nanny was locked in the bathroom for ten minutes... and after being twenty minutes late to pick up the girls from playschool on only their second morning without her... and after hearty doses of encouragement and advice from the amazing SMC community, Amy and I fired our new nanny.
It sucked.
Because I liked her. I related to her.
The problem was, Calliope didn't relate to her. Or rather, the nanny didn't seem to have the motivation to get down on the floor and truly interact with Calliope. She fed her and changed her and walked her... but her heart wasn't in it. Whether it was her personality, her cultural background, or the fact that she was in school four hours every night plus all day Saturday... her heart was not with our girls. And Calliope is a keen judge of character. Or at least, a keen judge of who is actually interested in her as her own little person versus a child to pat on the head and send to play in the other room.
She wasn't terrible. Just not quite good enough. Which made it all the harder.
You know how it's easy to dump a loser, but so much harder to break up with an almost-right boyfriend or girlfriend?
That's how this was.
And the actual "break up" was hard. Amy and I had a script, and followed it, but then Nanny just kept sitting there, silently. While the girls played, oblivious, around us and Amy and I looked at each other in pained silence.
Finally she said, "I wish it didn't have to come to this."
I wished that, too.
But I feel like I shouldn't have to teach the nanny that she can't leave the girls eating unattended. Or that she has to be on time when picking them up from school. This should be obvious.
And my girl, Calliope? She's not the cuddliest one around, with people other than Mommy, but something about her total indifference struck me wrong.
Amy's daughter, Eleanor, seemed more attached, so that was hard. Nanny C left before Amy got home each day, in order to get to school on time, so that meant Amy was mostly relying on my observations. Eleanor's dad saw the nanny in the morning when he dropped Eleanor off, but he didn't linger for long. Though he lacked concerns about Nanny C. Except for them eating unattended. And not liking that Nanny C wore headphones while pushing the girls in the stroller. And that she was late to pick them up.
Luckily for us, my friend's nanny was available and looking for work. I'd been hearing about this amazing nanny for years. The parent of my friend Emily's students, hand picked by Emily because the children of this woman were so studious, polite, ambitious, and loving toward their mother. Emily's daughter is in kindergarten now, so doesn't need a nanny. But they still travel to the Bronx to visit her.
We had Susie come over to interview with us on Monday night. We explained our current situation to her. The interview seemed okay, but nanny interviews are the weirdest. Because every potential scenario has the same "correct" answer:
"How do you discipline children?"
"However you tell me to."
"What do you feed children?"
"Whatever you tell me to."
But she seemed kind. Of course, Nanny C seemed warm and kind also. So mostly we were going on the fervent recommendation of my very close friend Emily.
We hired Susie on Monday night. Tuesday night, we fired Nanny C. Wednesday, I stayed home from work to orient Susie to the girls. Wednesday afternoon, I left the girls playing with Playdoh with Susie while I went out to run errands.
Nobody cried. They were too busy pressing shapes into their Playdoh "pancakes." When it was time for Susie to leave, Calliope willing hugged her goodbye. The next morning, on Susie's arrival, Calliope scampered into her arms again.
My heart, bruised and battered from the firing, melted. I went off to work and Calliope eagerly turned to Susie and asked for Playdoh.
It's been several weeks now, and the girls are clearly thriving. Susie is slowly transitioning to speaking to them in Spanish. The girls now greet me with "Hola! Como estas?" when I get home, and are fond of ordering "Ven aqui!" ("come here!")
Calliope is content when Susie arrives in the morning, and has yet to cry when I leave, and loves the new tradition with Susie of looking through the peephole at Mommy as I wait for the elevator.
Susie takes out the trash and cleans the kitchen and cooks for the girls without being asked. She is early every morning and stays late every afternoon (I feel badly about this but she's waiting for her husband to pick her up). Unlike Nanny C., who was occasionally late in the mornings and always had to leave ten minutes early. She even offered to cook for me!
Best of all, and the only thing I really care about, is that she is warm and affectionate and playful with the girls. It's wonderful to see my girl blossom under her loving care.
It sucked.
Because I liked her. I related to her.
The problem was, Calliope didn't relate to her. Or rather, the nanny didn't seem to have the motivation to get down on the floor and truly interact with Calliope. She fed her and changed her and walked her... but her heart wasn't in it. Whether it was her personality, her cultural background, or the fact that she was in school four hours every night plus all day Saturday... her heart was not with our girls. And Calliope is a keen judge of character. Or at least, a keen judge of who is actually interested in her as her own little person versus a child to pat on the head and send to play in the other room.
She wasn't terrible. Just not quite good enough. Which made it all the harder.
You know how it's easy to dump a loser, but so much harder to break up with an almost-right boyfriend or girlfriend?
That's how this was.
And the actual "break up" was hard. Amy and I had a script, and followed it, but then Nanny just kept sitting there, silently. While the girls played, oblivious, around us and Amy and I looked at each other in pained silence.
Finally she said, "I wish it didn't have to come to this."
I wished that, too.
But I feel like I shouldn't have to teach the nanny that she can't leave the girls eating unattended. Or that she has to be on time when picking them up from school. This should be obvious.
And my girl, Calliope? She's not the cuddliest one around, with people other than Mommy, but something about her total indifference struck me wrong.
Amy's daughter, Eleanor, seemed more attached, so that was hard. Nanny C left before Amy got home each day, in order to get to school on time, so that meant Amy was mostly relying on my observations. Eleanor's dad saw the nanny in the morning when he dropped Eleanor off, but he didn't linger for long. Though he lacked concerns about Nanny C. Except for them eating unattended. And not liking that Nanny C wore headphones while pushing the girls in the stroller. And that she was late to pick them up.
Luckily for us, my friend's nanny was available and looking for work. I'd been hearing about this amazing nanny for years. The parent of my friend Emily's students, hand picked by Emily because the children of this woman were so studious, polite, ambitious, and loving toward their mother. Emily's daughter is in kindergarten now, so doesn't need a nanny. But they still travel to the Bronx to visit her.
We had Susie come over to interview with us on Monday night. We explained our current situation to her. The interview seemed okay, but nanny interviews are the weirdest. Because every potential scenario has the same "correct" answer:
"How do you discipline children?"
"However you tell me to."
"What do you feed children?"
"Whatever you tell me to."
But she seemed kind. Of course, Nanny C seemed warm and kind also. So mostly we were going on the fervent recommendation of my very close friend Emily.
We hired Susie on Monday night. Tuesday night, we fired Nanny C. Wednesday, I stayed home from work to orient Susie to the girls. Wednesday afternoon, I left the girls playing with Playdoh with Susie while I went out to run errands.
Nobody cried. They were too busy pressing shapes into their Playdoh "pancakes." When it was time for Susie to leave, Calliope willing hugged her goodbye. The next morning, on Susie's arrival, Calliope scampered into her arms again.
My heart, bruised and battered from the firing, melted. I went off to work and Calliope eagerly turned to Susie and asked for Playdoh.
It's been several weeks now, and the girls are clearly thriving. Susie is slowly transitioning to speaking to them in Spanish. The girls now greet me with "Hola! Como estas?" when I get home, and are fond of ordering "Ven aqui!" ("come here!")
Calliope is content when Susie arrives in the morning, and has yet to cry when I leave, and loves the new tradition with Susie of looking through the peephole at Mommy as I wait for the elevator.
Susie takes out the trash and cleans the kitchen and cooks for the girls without being asked. She is early every morning and stays late every afternoon (I feel badly about this but she's waiting for her husband to pick her up). Unlike Nanny C., who was occasionally late in the mornings and always had to leave ten minutes early. She even offered to cook for me!
Best of all, and the only thing I really care about, is that she is warm and affectionate and playful with the girls. It's wonderful to see my girl blossom under her loving care.
Fall Photos
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| First day of playschool. High school class of 2029. |
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| First day with new nanny #2 |
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Playing with my super fun new babysitter Catherine
while Mommy runs around our nation's shuttered capitol with 600 friends in red dresses.
|
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| Our new tradition of Shabbat dinner with Eleanor. We are crazy about it -- lighting candles, drinking grape juice from silver cups... and we love to "holla for Challah!" I ask hopefully for challah (the sweet braided bread) every single day! |
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| Stylish hand me down CK jeans! (No clue who buys fancy jeans for their toddler but it surely isn't Mommy!) |
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| If I cling very tightly, surely Mommy won't forget that I'M her baby. Not this eight month
old giantess who is nearly as big as I am.
|
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Riding one of the beautiful antique carousels at the French festival on Governor's Island.
Look at my long(ish) hair!
|
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Hanging with my best girl, Eleanor, and stopping for some refreshment on our weekly trip to the Sunday Farmer's Market. We totally killed those apples. This is a super fun game wherein I close the door, bellow "Hello? Hello?" through the door, and then Mommy opens the door again. |
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But then Mommy took a few seconds too long to open the door
because she was fussing with her phone so I put the time to good
use.
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Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Living Without Fear
I've got a dozen half written posts sitting in my drafts folder. And details about Calliope are woefully lacking.
But in the meantime, just a quick post.
To say that the romance is back on.
But in the meantime, just a quick post.
To say that the romance is back on.
We've spent the last two weekends, or at least one and a half of them, together. And now he's decided to travel back here this weekend, too, for our third weekend together in a row (the first weekend, I traveled to DC for the red dress run, which we did together).
I'm excited he's coming. Surprised, too. It never occurred to me that he would be willing to travel so much. It sounds exhausting. Especially considering he'll be away the following two weekends visiting his daughter, and on the west coast in between.
But pleased.
I'm trying to find a balance of being cautious, but not paranoid. To stop assuming -- when he doesn't call -- that he's either a) playing games or b) reuniting with his wife.
To be fair, I only wondered about option B once. Mostly I just worry about the game playing, or about him not being genuinely interested.
But at some point, I think I have to start assuming that all this driving reflects his interest, no?
And also, to trust my own intuition. That if it feels this easy and comfortable and fun for me, it probably feels that way for him, too.
I have no idea how to factor in the fact that he's in the midst of a divorce. No idea how that might make him act.
Well, I have an idea. A fellow SMC recommended I read Surviving Your Boy.friend's Divorce. I dutifully followed her advice and... it was grim. I'm trying to follow the author's advice -- maintain my own interests, don't get hooked on promises, that sort of thing. But I also don't want to dwell in a place of fear. That's no way to live.
So I'm trying to stay grounded in my own life.
My little girl is delicious. I'm relishing her right now. And designed this weekend's plans so that I'm only missing two of her awake hours. I'm riding my bike nearly ten mile to work most days. I'm trying to increase the frequency and duration of my Insanity workouts. I take banjo lessons once a week with a fellow SMC (via Sky.pe). I went to visit my mother and brother last weekend for 24 hours. I'm more engaged at work.
I'll admit, though, that I'm feeling cagey about committing to plans with friends on weekends when I don't know if he might come visit. The next two weekends, when he'll be away, I'm all about plans.
Honestly, this is all such a surprise to me. I kept telling people that I would date again in a decade or so, give or take. And then this. And even if he and I didn't work out, I think I might keep dating. I'm enjoying it so far. It's lovely to date with the question of children off the table.
Though of course T42 questions are still in the game. But knowing that that, too, can be achieved without help [from a male partner], I feel deliciously free.
So now to remember to stay in the present, to avoid fantasies, to listen to my gut while not completely scaring myself every time he's late to call.
Oh, and the next time someone fails to respond to text messages? Make sure to check that the text messages are being sent to the appropriate phone number. It's amazing that just hitting "reply" doesn't always work.
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