Pavlov in Action

I am sad to say that throughout my life I have identified more with Pavlov's dog than with Pavlov. Each September, after I received my teaching schedule for the year, I would begin to train my body to respond to the bells of the day. For instance, after the fourth bell I could pee and have my snack. At around the eleventh bell, I could have my lunch…so on and so forth. I knew my response was bell driven as opposed to time driven because on condensed schedule days, I would not only be eating my lunch at 10 in the morning but I would also be hungry for it. Since leaving the classroom, I have relished in the lack of bells in my life. It is rather liberating to take care of bodily needs according to my body's prompting and not due to some external stimuli. Still, I have my moments wondering if Pavlov remains in control.


This has been on the forefront of my mind lately due to Angela's emergent language and obsession with cookies. One day she noticed a box of cookies on the kitchen counter. She pointed to them and said, "Good girl." I had to laugh and provide her with the desired cookie for such cuteness. Now, whenever she wants a cookie, she points to the box and says, "Cookie. Good Girl." I am ashamed to admit that it gets me every time. There is part of me that wonders if I am setting her up for a lifetime of food/behavioral issues. Additionally, there is a part of me which wonders if she has trained me exceptionally well already. Regardless, I am just going to enjoy the cuteness and let the chips fall where they may. Now if I could just overcome the need for a belly rub and to pee outside….

Channeling Beavis and Butthead

Yesterday John and I decided to take the girls to the Bronx Zoo. We had not been there since our initial dating days close to (gasp!) 10 years ago. It was a great excursion and we had a ball. The girls were entranced by all the different animals that they saw. I was surprised by how much Alice loved the butterfly garden. Upon entering the exhibit, the attendant provided us with a map picturing the different types of butterflies in the enclosure. Alice became a pro at identifying the butterflies that perched near us. Despite the lure of the 4-D Dora and Diego movie, Alice kept getting sidetracked every time a new butterfly fluttered by. Even Angela surprised me by her joy in the Congo exhibit. Who knew how enamored she would be by the gorillas? She kept pointing at them and squealing at their antics in their habitat enclosure. However, my "Beavis and Butthead" moment of the day came while we were in the Children's Zoo exhibit.


It was not until we were in the Children's Zoo that I remembered all the wandering peacocks that speckle the zoo landscape. I think in the food court they actually outnumber the pigeons, which, when you consider we are in the Bronx, is saying something. Anyhow, I had just placed Angela down from her perch in my arms when she noticed a peacock right in front of her. She was so excited to see the exotic bird so close to her. In answer to her finger point and quizzical look, I informed her that it was a peacock. Unfortunately, she zeroed in on the second syllable of the word and kept saying the word "cock" over and over. It did not help that her pointing finger was not only in line with the large bird but also in line with most folks' genitals. Needless to say, those in earshot must have been a mite confused as to why a 15 month old girl was running around, finger outstretched, saying a rather vulgar word for penis. However, if you keep up with this blog, you can understand why I was unfazed by this. I guess Alice has broken me in. I had no choice but to follow John's example and break into my best Beavis and Butthead laugh, do my best Butthead impression, and say, "She said cock."

It’s All about Perspective

It is funny how kids can make you see things in a totally different way. This hit home while I was driving to a local park with Alice and Angela. As we passed a local farm, I noticed that there were several horses grazing in the pasture. Knowing Alice's love of animals, I called her attention to this. She peered into the field from the vantage point of her Britax car seat and informed me that "the horses look funny." I did a double take but I did not notice anything odd about them. Albeit, they looked to be miniature horses, but they seemed to have all the typical characteristics of an equine. I asked her why they looked funny to her. She informed me, "Because they don't have any heads." At that moment, the phrase, "What the hell?" came to mind and then in dawned on me. The horses were grazing. The car was going 40 miles per hour. Yes, at that speed, it probably did look like the pasture was filled with headless horses.

 

And there you have it…my Alice-ism of the day.

Charge!!!!!

Angela took her first independent steps about three weeks ago. Now she rarely crawls. I figure by next week she will have evolved from her Baby Frankenstein lurching into a pretty typical gait, until college overindulgences anyway. In about two more weeks, she will probably be happily running about while chasing particles of dust (funny how kids and animals share that trait). I love this stage because it really highlights each child's idiosyncrasies and there is nothing I like better than observing someone else's quirks.


For instance, I love how Angela has used scuttling to her advantage. Somehow she has figured out that if she wants speed, she needs to sidestep. This was particularly amusing while at the shore. Unfortunately, it did have one negative effect. Her crab like saunter resulted in an overwhelming urge to chase her while wearing a lobster bid and smother her with drawn butter. I also like Angela's propensity of pointing to her ultimate destination when walking. I am not sure if it helps her maintain focus or balance, but it is easy to figure out where she is heading by a glance at her outstretched finger. Essentially, I have given birth to the Babe Ruth of walking.


It is funny how the dog has also picked up on this peculiarity. Just when I think Puggie lacks two synapses to fire up, she shows remarkable intelligence. It is nice to see that she has a sense of self preservation. This kicked in rapidly when Angela started toward the dog with a hairbrush in her hand (substitute for the pointing finger). She looked like Don Quixote charging the windmills. Puggie woke up from her perpetual snooze and moved faster than I had seen her in a while. She managed to elude a grooming from Angela mainly due to Angela's lack of coordination. Enjoy the respite now dog. Coordination and speed are just around the corner.

A New Offering from Your Local Library

Thanks to Dora the Explorer, I am able to accomplish three errands per day before Alice gets antsy. For those of you unfamiliar with the "Dora formula", Dora and her monkey friend Boots must complete a task in each episode. To do so, they consult Map to figure out the best way to get from Point A to Point B. Map always gives Dora and Boots three locations that they must pass through in order to get to their ultimate destination. For some reason, this just clicks for Alice; so, whenever I have to do something with her (and Peanut), we break it down into three steps. Today we had grocery store, hair cut, and library.
                   
It was on the way to the library that Alice provided me with my daily "scratch my head" moment. While I drove, I talked up the fun things that we would do once we got there.


"Alice, we are going to get some new books and new movies. Isn't that…"


"And pickles," Alice interjected.


"Huh?" I asked.


"We are going to get some pickles too," Alice clarified.


I decided to overlook the fact that I have never seen this child eat a pickle in her almost four years on this planet; and, instead, correct her mistaken belief regarding what constitutes proper library materials. Alice would have none of it. She was adamant that one could get pickles from the library. Apparently, she was privy to some new program, which despite loss of funding for libraries in general, was going to be instituted. So let me know what you think of the "Pickles for Patrons" program the next time you check something out.

Let’s Get Ready to Rumble!

I blame the book Playful Parenting. I read it when I was a new inductee into Mommyhood. Actually, I read a slew of parenting books in those early months. I think was I looking for that non-existent user manual for children. Now that I am a grizzled veteran, I know to take all parenting books and their contradictory theories on how to raise your children and use them as bonfire fodder. S'mores, anyone? Aside from its title, I don't recall much about Playful Parenting beyond the author's advocating of nontraditional play with children (e.g. wrestling with girls). His argument for doing so seemed sound. He believed it would help make them more confident and comfortable in their bodies. Given my issues with body distortion, I wanted to spare my daughter that particular angst, so I began to playfully wrestle with Alice who loved it.


The point to this back story- a few Sundays ago John was heading to the airport, so it was just me and the girls. They were playing in the living room while I puttered around the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. I smiled as I heard gales of little girl laughter erupt regularly; at least until the laughter was interspersed with odd thumping noises. I generally try to leave well enough alone when they are contentedly playing. I did not hear limbs being severed or screeches of terror. Still, my curiosity was piqued, so I decided to investigate.


I stood in the doorway of the living room and watched aghast as my two girls (ages 3 and 1) wrestled together. The World Wrestling Federation had nothing on these two. I decided to reprimand Alice, the oldest who should know better. As Alice lay prone on the floor, I lit into her for treating her smaller and more fragile sister so roughly. I should have known better. While I listed the reasons why wrestling with Angela was the wrong thing to do, Angela, who was kneeling next to her sister, decided stand up and then body slam Alice. While they laughed uproariously, I muttered, "Never mind" to Alice and walked out of the room. Angela can fend for herself, which now leaves me time to decide what their professional wrestling names should be. Any suggestions?

In Favor of Adulthood

The other day while I was on Facebook, I noticed a new group. I don't recall the exact title of the group, but it went something along the lines of wishing to be a child when the most difficult choice was deciding what color crayon to use. I smiled and thought of those idyllic childhood days until my attention was diverted by a crying Angela who stood in front of the two steps transitioning from the kitchen to the living room. Normally, she is such a happy go lucky soul; however, of late I have noticed an uptick in crying. Frustration has reached an apex for her. She is caught between desire (to get up the stairs) and her limitations (not being able to coordinate all the body parts necessary for this feat). As I watched her struggle with the step, I realized that group on Facebook had it all wrong. Adulthood is the better stage. No, I am not being sarcastic, droll, or any derivation of those words. I am being 100% honest. I prefer bring an adult.


Yes, as an adult, one faces major stresses and responsibilities (think mortgages, bosses, parenthood), but it's not like childhood is devoid of stresses and responsibilities. While it is true that kids play all day, remember that play is their work and that work is exhausting physically and mentally. I can personally attest to the physical exhaustion of play. On the days Alice is home from school, we are on the go, go, go. I work out simply so I can build the endurance to keep up with her. For Angela the physical aspect of play is all consuming as she works on refining walking skills. Can you imagine the constant stress and frustration felt by the bourgeoning walker? The fact that she keeps trying despite constant failure awes me. Then there is the mental aspect of play. All that "common knowledge" that we have stored in our craws came from somewhere. Imagine constantly being bombarded by new things, experiences, and stimuli. Kids deal with this on a constant basis. Add to this limited language/communication skills and is it any wonder that they have tantrums? As adults, we have the words to express how we feel for when we are frustrated, sad, tired and so forth. We have also learned coping mechanisms for when we experience these feelings (that is the hope anyway); but, kids have not developed that side of themselves yet. There is also the extreme of this- no words at all. Angela can say and understand the words: Mama, Dada, and Pup (for Pug). She can point to things that she wants. She can laugh to express approval and scream/cry to show displeasure. Imagine dealing with those limitations on a regular basis. That does not sound idyllic to me.


There is also the issue of personal autonomy. Yes, due to adult responsibilities, it is limited, but it is worse for children. I realized this the other day when Alice told me she wanted to stay home and play with her trains. I needed to get to the grocery store to pick up dinner. Guess who won? Kids are dragged everywhere regardless of whether they want to come along for the ride or not. When presented with choices, the choices are limited to the ones that I provide. Ideas like ice cream for dinner are rebuffed along with extended bedtimes (little do my children know that John and I frequently indulge in an ice cream dinner). This highlights the next stinky thing about childhood- learning the lesson that life is unfair and people are mean. As adults, we know this already. Again, we have built coping mechanisms for this. When I encounter a stuck up mom on the playground, I cease trying to be friendly and walk away (probably thinking the word "bitch" as I do so). I don't take things like that personally. Kids can't help but take it personally. I periodically deal with this when Alice tries playing with the ubiquitous "mean girls." How does one explain this phenomenon to a 3 year old? They don't get that some people are just mean, and no matter how friendly you are, they will still be mean.


So give me adulthood with its ice cream dinners and knowledge. Heck, I will take any stage that does not involve going through puberty again. That will be a post at a later date I am sure.