life with a new baby
Posts tagged lessons
Indoor play spaces? I’ll pass.
Aug 3rd
A couple days ago, Nathan and I hung out with my friend (who we’ll call T). We went out to lunch together, and while we were eating, we reminisced about another time we ate lunch together, after which we went on a quest to find a playground for Nathan.
I can’t believe I never blogged about this.
So anyway, we found one of those indoor playgrounds in a fast food restaurant. From the outside, the play space looked massive. It beckoned to us, looming over us at about two stories tall. So we hauled Nathan out of his carseat and into the restaurant.
As soon as I opened the door to the play space and looked around, my heart sank. Yeah, the play space was two stories tall, but it was NARROW. The room it was in was maybe 12 ft x 12 ft, with the play space taking up a good portion of it… leaving an available space of about 12 ft x 4 ft. And the play space was completely vertical. There were a number of ledges arranged in step-formation for kids to shimmy up, but there is no way an adult could because there was only about a foot of space available to squeeze through in order to climb to the next ledge. Someone like me would get stuck. It was a safety hazard if you ask me.
Of course, the kids all had to take their shoes off to play, so the smell of dirty feet permeated the tiny enclosure. There was no air conditioning or any air flow whatsoever, so it was stuffy and stale, which only exacerbated the dirty feet smell.
I sat on one of the benches and tried not to touch anything. My friend T appeared to be just as uncomfortable as me, but we couldn’t just leave. No, once you take a two-year-old into a play area, you cannot just turn around and leave unless you’re wanting to experience the apocalypse.
I couldn’t let Nathan climb the contraption because he’s so little, if he got hurt, I would have not be able to squeeze my way through the ledges to help him. Nathan, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to the stale air and dirty feet smell. And even though I wouldn’t let him climb the play thingy, he just ran around that tiny little enclosure, clapped his hands, and had a ball.
In fact, he was running so hard and enjoying himself so much that he quit paying attention and ran right smack-dab INTO A WINDOW. Just like how you see in the cartoons, with his little arms and legs splayed out. He kinda bounced off it, rubbed his head, but shook it off like it was nothing.
Another gross thing about the play space is there were a number of kids in there, and at least two of them were sick. One had a nasty, hacking cough and the other had a disgusting, snotty nose. You know, complete with those gross snot bubbles. And she was constantly wiping her mucus faucet with her hand and then she would TOUCH everything.
What made it even worse was her mother came in there once and was all like, Oh look at your poor little nose, my sweet sick little baby, blah blah blah. And I’m thinking to myself, CAN YOU NOT SEE YOUR KID IS SPREADING THE MUCUS PLAGUE ALL OVER THE PLACE??
My left eye actually twitched a little over the mom’s obtuse complacency. I mean, who can be so oblivious to others that they let their snot-bubble spewing kid sow their noxious germs into the porous plastics where said germs will fester and possibly mutate into an ULTRA MUCUS PLAGUE and other kids will then pick them up and spread the love? Who does that? SATAN??
Can you imagine the self control it took for me to not yank my child out of there?
I just didn’t have the heart to. Nathan loves being around other kids and was having a blast just running around. We stayed for about an hour, and let me tell you, when we finally left, FRESH AIR NEVER FELT SO GOOD.
No, not a good place for a mom like me who is trying really hard to control her OCD tendencies. Needless to say, I sanitized the shit out of Nathan’s hands once we left and fortunately, he didn’t get sick from the episode. Lesson learned. It will probably be a long, long, LONG time before I take my child back to one of those indoor play spaces. My friend and I were so dismayed… it felt like we were tricked. I mean, from the outside, it was so big and inviting… It was like a bait-and-switch, and we were very disappointed.
Well…
Jul 25th
It has begun. The other day, my child took parts of his battery-powered dump truck apart and then proceeded to sit on the floor for 25 minutes trying to piece it back together. Time to hide my electronics?
Stubborn is as stubborn does
Jul 11th
My kid is so stubborn.
I mean, really, really stubborn. And strong-willed. Determined. Steadfast.
Just a few days ago, I heard one of my cats meow in exasperation. I slinked through the kitchen and caught Nathan in the living room, throwing tufts of cat fur into the air and DANCING IN IT while clapping his hands. I saw my cat Andrew hunkered wide-eyed in the corner. He looked as if he thought he was naked.
I bet he felt naked with all the fur Nathan had pulled out and was DANCING in.
“NO! Nathan, that’s not nice! You don’t hurt the cats… Time Out!” I said as I grabbed his cat-fur covered hands. I steered him into his Time Out Corner and set the timer for three minutes (the amount of time Nathan gets in time out depends on his infraction. Milder infractions get him two minutes). When three minutes was up, I returned to Nathan and squatted down on his level.
“Do you understand why Mommy put you in time out?” I asked.
He looked at his hands.
“You pulled out the cat’s fur. You hurt the cat. No touching the cats, Nathan.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied as he did the sign for sorry across his chest.
“Nathan, I need you to say ‘No cat,’” I said.
Nathan mumbled something unintelligible.
“If you want out of time out, you need to say ‘No cat,’” I prodded. Nathan crossed his arms over his chest.
“NO!” he yelled.
“Okay then, you made the choice to have more time out,” I replied. I set the timer for another minute. When the timer went off, I repeated the process.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And again…
In fact, I repeated the process a grand total of THIRTY SEVEN times. That means that THIRTY SEVEN times in a row, I asked Nathan if he was ready to say “No cat.” And THIRTY SEVEN times in a row, Nathan obstinately refused. Until finally, a grand total of FORTY minutes later (including the three minutes for his first time out) and with tears streaming down his cheeks and snot dripping out his nose, he begrudgingly gave me what I asked for.
“No cat,” he whispered. That’s right. He wouldn’t even speak it. HE WHISPERED IT.
With his arms crossed over his chest and his chin up in the air.
But at least he said it, right? My kid may be stubborn, but his mama is even MORE stubborn. Getting tired of the discipline and giving in is not an option for me… giving in means that Nathan would know that all he needs to do to get his way is put up a fight and eventually I’ll cave. And then? Then I’m left dealing with an A-1 Brat. Not gonna happen in this house. It is my responsibility to prepare this child for life, and letting him have his way teaches him nothing.
Even if it takes THIRTY SEVEN repetitions.
Hey, no one ever said parenthood was easy.
In which Nathan proved to be faster than light
Jul 8th
A few days ago, my mom came over to my house for a visit. When I heard her car outside, I opened the front door and stepped out on the porch to greet her. With my hand still on the doorknob (I hadn’t turned the knob to release it), I closed the door. In the split second it took for me to close the door, I realized I had made a mistake. I needed to go back inside to grab my keys, just in case Nathan locked me out.
Click.
Too late.
Nathan locked the deadbolt. WHILE MY HAND WAS STILL HOLDING THE KNOB. I hadn’t let go of it, so the door had not even latched closed. He was that fast.
My heart dropped down into my stomach.
Nathan giggled impishly behind the door.
My mom saw the look on my face and jumped out of her car. “Oh no!” she said. “Did he lock you out?” I didn’t even have to answer. I’m sure my blanched face was answer enough. Meanwhile, Nathan stood on the other side of the door, giggling as I peered through the glass.
“HI, MOMMY!” he laughed.
“NATHAN! Open the door, please,” I said through gritted teeth. Nathan flung the curtains over the door’s window to either side. “Mommy! Hello! How are you?” he sang. Then he clapped his hands while spinning around in a circle.
“I want you to open the door, that’s how I am!” I responded. “Nathan, turn the lock on the door the other way, please.”
Nathan jiggled the deadbolt, but to no avail. He didn’t understand what he had done. All he knew was that he now had the ENTIRE HOUSE TO HIMSELF. And what does a two-year-old who now has the ENTIRE HOUSE TO HIMSELF do? THEY RUN. They run around like a crazy little cracked-out bull. I watched hopelessly through the window as he tore through the living room and kitchen. Then I heard his little feet stomping their merry way into my bedroom.
I knocked on the door.
I heard little feet come running.
“Hello?” he said when he reached the door. I knocked again. He knocked back.
“Nathan, open this door please!” I beckoned.
“No please!” he replied as he knocked some more. Then he took off once again. I turned to my mom and asked her to keep an eye on him through the window while I borrowed her cell phone to call my husband.
No answer. Of course. Doesn’t that always happen?
So I did the only other thing I knew to do… I drove to Paul’s grandparents’ house (they live about 2-3 minutes away). I pulled up and saw Paul’s grandfather outside working. I rolled down the window.
“Nathan locked me out. Do you happen to have a spare key?”
He smiled and nodded his head. It was the smile of knowing. The smile of With a kid like yours, how did this not happen sooner? A smile of understanding and empathy. I wondered if the same thing had ever happened to him. I made a mental note to ask sometime. He walked inside and reemerged after a couple of minutes with the spare key.
“THANK YOU!” I said as I was leaving. He smiled that knowing smile.
I raced back to the house, heart pounding in my chest, praying to God that my child didn’t drown himself in the toilet. My mom was still standing on the porch. Somehow, she had managed to keep Nathan fairly interested in her conversation by enticing him to stay near the door by dangling one of his favorite outside toys in front of the window.
“Is he okay?” I called as I raced to the front door.
“He’s just fine,” my mom responded. She was so calm. “I just kept him by the door. Whenever he ran off, I knocked and he’d come running back.”
“I can’t believe he did this,” I said as I slid the key into the lock.
Click.
Finally, I was inside. My child ran up to me, arms wide open. “Hi, Mommy! Hello!” he called excitedly. He truly didn’t understand what all the hubbub was about. He only did what he’s seen me do time and time again when Paul leaves…. but he still had to be put into timeout because touching the door is off limits.
And this whole story is exactly the reason why he is not allowed to touch the door.
Recent Comments
Aww thanks, Tina, it was good to see you too! I wish I could have talked to you more... I ...
I'm sorry you all had a rough go yesterday, but it was good to see you both :) I have ...
Thank you, I appreciate that. It's so cool to hear people say that we look alike... I've been told there ...
Awww... what really nice photos! You two look so alike, especially with the way you smile.