- It’s not a doll baby party until all the doll babies are naked.
- Baguette’s giggle is the most beautiful sound in the world.
- When we went to our first appointment with the developmental pediatrician, I realized where they keep all the fancy restaurants.
- A four-year-old of average height looks really tall to me.
Category: Parenting
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Things I’ve Noticed
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Performance Anxiety
I’ve always been conflicted about children and performances. Growing up, I performed in piano and ballet recitals, and was in the occasional play. The stage wasn’t my natural habitat, but I never had any real qualms.
But when I was in junior high, I went to see my friend’s sister perform in her dance recital. She did just fine–but there was a class of tiny girls who went on stage with teddy bears, and one of them should not have been there. This girl just stared out into the darkened theater and sobbed, and none of the teachers went to help her.
Ever since, I’ve had misgivings about the idea of very small children performing on stage. Enter Baguette.
December 2010: Baguette’s first school Holiday Performance
Her class was all infants, and they were propped up in bench seats. Baguette was mesmerized by the stage lights and had no idea there was an audience, so that went well.
By the way, if there is anything more ridiculous than putting infants who can’t stand on a stage and calling it a performance, I don’t know what it is. (Although Bestie stole the show that year, I do have to admit.)
May 2011: Baguette’s first school Spring Performance
Each class sang and danced a little to a song. The infants got wheeled around in a cart and looked bewildered. It was fine.
December 2011: Baguette’s second school Holiday Performance
She was starting to get a cold, and couldn’t spot us in the audience. One of her teachers kept her from actually sobbing, but we could see the tears.
May 2012: Baguette’s second school Spring Performance
She had just moved to a new classroom and didn’t know the song. She knew she didn’t know it and she couldn’t spot us in the crowd, so she started crying quietly.
December 2012: Baguette’s third school Holiday Performance
I took her backstage to drop her off with her class, and she started sobbing and screaming. I left her, in the hope that she would settle down when she realized she was with her teachers (who she didn’t much like) and friends. After a few minutes, I asked the school director to check on Baguette. A minute later, she was back, holding Baguette and saying, “She’s not 100%.” We watched most of the show from the audience and then went outside and ran around in the patio.
May 2013: Baguette’s third school Spring Performance
Mr. Sandwich picked her up early and brought her home.
December 2013: Baguette’s fourth school Holiday Performance
We checked with her teacher (who she adores), who shook her head and said, “I think it’s going to be too loud for her.” We stayed home.
May 2014: Baguette’s fourth school Spring Performance
Again, we checked with her teacher, saying, “We don’t want her to feel left out, but we don’t want to put her in a situation that makes her unhappy.” The teacher said, “You know what? I think she’s going to like it this time. She’s really into practicing the song. She sings it all the time.”
So with trepidation, we showed up at school and hid. Because we know from past experience that if she sees us, she’s going to come to us. And what did we see? A girl who knew all the moves and nearly all the words, who followed her teacher’s lead, and who was beaming as she performed with her class.
She would not have done that a year ago, or two years ago, and we know that because she didn’t. But she’s learned so many skills in the past six months, and she’s become so confident. This is huge.
This is huge.
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Penguin Picture Day
When Baguette was about six weeks old, she received a giant penguin from one of Mr. Sandwich’s colleagues. Every month, we take her picture with it to show how she’s grown. I think this one says a lot, even without an earlier one for comparison.
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Naptime Is Over
Naptime has always been a struggle. She naps well at daycare, but at home, it’s never been easy. We’ve tried to keep to the daycare schedule. We’ve taken her for drives. We’ve tried lying down with her. We’ve put her down and told her that she has to stay.
It turns out that may have been the worst choice. While that method did work for a short time–she would put up a fuss, but eventually go to sleep–it didn’t last. On the best days, she’d go to sleep, sometimes for the full two hours. On the good days, she’d talk to herself. On the bad days, she’d scream until we determined that she wasn’t going to nap that day, and wasn’t going to calm down.
Today, we made it 30 minutes. She was screaming, and then she started to gasp, and then she started to say something. We couldn’t make it out, but we went over to comfort her, and found her leaning up against the side of the bed saying, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
Our little girl thought we were punishing her. All this time, she’s been thinking that we were angry with her, and she didn’t know what she’d done. She didn’t see it as naptime. She saw it as exile.
So that’s it. I talked to her about “quiet time,” but honestly, I think that’ll be easier after she learns to read. In the meantime, if she falls asleep, then she naps. And if she doesn’t, she stays up.
We’ll figure it out.
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Baguette Is Four
Four years ago today, the most amazing little girl entered our lives.
It’s hard to believe that we’re already here:
Happy Birthday, Baguette. You astonish and delight us every single day.
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Our New Normal (For Now)
“Normal” is open to interpretation. That’s true for every family, but I’ve really come to understand the concept better since Baguette’s autism diagnosis. Actually, I knew it before her diagnosis–but that’s what made it okay for me to say openly that my normal is different from the normal you experience. Or you. Or that person over there.
I came across a post about what “normal” means for one family dealing with ADHD, and it got me to thinking about what is normal for us.
1) The house is always messy. Between work, commute, and ABA, we do not have time to clean. Mr. Sandwich does the laundry and I do the dishes, but the rest of the place is profoundly cluttered.
2) No “me” time. This isn’t exactly true. I get my hair colored and cut every six weeks, and about as often I get a massage. Mr. Sandwich has a (sometimes) regular Sunday morning bike ride. But with Baguette’s long-standing distaste for sleep, I can’t even read a magazine in one sitting. Recently, it took me three weeks to finish streaming a movie. We have literally years of “Castle” in our DVR–or at least we did until we gave up and deleted them, with plans to buy the DVDs at some point in the future.
3) There’s an awful lot of screaming. Baguette is frustrated by her inability to communicate. She’s also frustrated by the incessant demands of her ABA schedule. And sometimes the only way she can express that is to rage and rage and rage. As far as I’ve been able to figure it out, the only thing I can do is be there with her, as calmly as possible, and let the rage burn itself out. Friday was one of those days. After at least an hour of crying and screaming, she wore herself out until she was able to say, “I want carry me,” and I stood there with my arms around her, rocking her back and forth for at least 15 minutes. Then we sat down on the couch, and I held her on my lap until she slid down on the floor, still with her shoulder against my leg. I didn’t move until she did, because when she moved away, that meant she was feeling better. (Sorry, neighbors. This is just how it is.)
4) There’s probably a #4, but I’m too tired to come up with it.
5) The surprises never end. Baguette loves the water. She’s been teaching herself ASL–and now she’s teaching me, too. Lately she tells me she wants to play with her by saying, “Come along, Mommy,” and I have no idea where that phrase came from.
All of this will change with time. And that’s normal, too.
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Your Mileage May Vary
This morning, when I took Baguette to daycare, she was excited to be there. She opened the door to the classroom without being prompted, and she ran up to a group of girls and started playing with the same toys they were using.
(This is HUGE. Six months ago, she would have retreated to the corner with a book. Now she chooses to play with the other kids.)
She picked up a toy ice cream cone and said, “Ice cream!” One of the other girls said, “Don’t eat it!”I said, “Oh, it’s okay. I think she knows the difference between the toy and real ice cream.”
The girl said, “Sometimes babies put things in their mouth.”
Every child in that room is 3 or 4.
I said, “Well, she isn’t a baby.”“Yes, she is. She can’t talk.”
One of the other little girls–we’ll call her Daisy–who has been in the same room as Baguette since they were both infants, said, “She can’t do anything.”
Baguette dropped the cone and headed for the bookshelf, where she selected Can You Tell Me How to Get to Sesame Street. It’s the book she’s most likely to pick up at school. I think I know why; it’s because no one in that book would be mean to her, with the possible exception of Oscar.
Daisy said, “Well, she knows Hebrew.”
I said, “She knows Hebrew?”
Daisy said, “Uh huh.”
I answered, “She’s still learning some things, but she’ll learn faster if you’re nice to her.”
Bestie came over to the bookshelf to hang out with Baguette, and gave her a one-armed hug.
Parenting is harder than being in your 40s.
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“Go Outside Walk in Rain”
California is experiencing a record drought. To those caught in a polar vortex, our balmy winter temperatures may sound like paradise–but they actually indicate a really big problem.
Winter is our rainy season, and we just haven’t gotten rain this year. But finally, starting Thursday evening, we did get some. By Friday, the streets along my route to work were flooded, with cars or water or both. I chose to go home and work from my kitchen table, and that turned out to be the right choice; when I did head in, my drive was only about 30 minutes. It would easily have been two and a half hours if I’d gone during rush hour, like everyone else.
There have been breaks in the weather, but for the most part it’s been pretty wet. And it’s wonderful.
Baguette is in heaven. She loves the rain, and her boots, and her raincoat. Thursday night, she had me take her out at 8 p.m., and I swear I could see her beaming in spite of the nighttime darkness.
This afternoon, she walked to the front door, rattled the knob, and said, “Go outside walk in rain.” So of course we both suited up and splashed down the sidewalk, even when it was pouring. She had me sing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” about four times, and she signed it along with me.
Walking hand in hand in the rain with my little girl? I can’t think of a lovelier way to spend the afternoon. Even though it turns out that my trenchcoat has sprung a leak.
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Why My House is Messy
I know my house is messy. I’m not a good housekeeper. I never have been, and neither was my mother. I know she would have recognized herself in Claire McCarthy’s Huffington Post piece.* Also, there’s this.
I do want my house to be clean. It’s so much more peaceful and comfortable when it is. Mr. Sandwich and I agree on this (For the record, if you come over to our house? He’s the one who cleaned it for you.) And we really want to have people over, but we’d feel so much better about it if we were more orderly.
This is our kitchen table after Mr. Sandwich has taken some stuff off of it. And, honestly, “orderly” is key here. We have too much stuff, and we have no organization system. But there aren’t dirty dishes lying around (seriously, I feel like I am always washing dishes), and the laundry is either clean or in the hamper (Mr. Sandwich is always doing laundry). We’re neither hoarders nor a hotbed of disease.
So is your house clean? I’d probably love being there. But if it’s a mess, I’m probably cool with that, too. Because I’m not visiting you for your house, I’m visiting you because it’s fun. So if I’m not judging you, why am I judging myself? You can schedule a consultation for low maintenance draperies or in-home covering from rescomdesigns.com.
*That Dutch saying quoted in the comments? Yeah, the Dutch are a nation of people who leave their curtains open so you can peer in their windows and see how clean their houses are. My mother-in-law is Dutch. She’s the loveliest person, and yet she still can’t hide that my housekeeping pains her.
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Note to the World
Please keep in mind that if you’re in line at a drugstore that also gives flu shots, and there’s a small child shrieking like a banshee next to you, it’s possible that she’s not actually all that poorly behaved.
Maybe she feels like she got stabbed in the arm.
And if you still think that’s too much, maybe we can test your theory by seeing how loudly you scream when I stab you in the arm.