Squidbits
A song popped up on my last.fm tag radio the other day called "I feel so no!" The song was kind of eh, but the title made me grin and think of the Squid. Lately, he feels so no!
Not that he can say so, yet. Seventeen months and still no words. We've got lots of very earnest and expressive verbal interaction going on, but it's all in Squiddish still, not any recognizable Earth language. He brings me things correctly when I ask for them, and can point to body parts and such, but he doesn't use the words himself. "No," however, even though it is not quite yet a word qua word, is certainly a firm concept; instead of "no," we get dubious looks, outright disobedience (though not yet with mischievous glee), adamant head-shaking, and plopping down in the middle of the floor to scream and cry. The back-arching bit of tantrums has just begun, and it's amazing how fast he now goes from sunny and cheerful to tragic rage; 0-60, at the close of the door to the Magic Backyard or the removal of the Dog Water Bowl Toy or on being deprived of sundry Exciting Sharp Found Objects. Whee, toddlerhood!
Squid at a free concert to benefit a co-op daycare in San Francisco
I don't know that I have a great deal to say about this month except that I'm relieved it's over. Himself's been gone for three out of the last four weeks, so it's been solo parenting, and while that's not bad in and of itself, it leaves me very tired. The Squid's in the process of dropping a nap, too, so his sleep schedule's been screwy, which makes cranky baby and stressed-out mother. The absolute nadir was the day I had cramps and PMS and he had slept a sum total of 30 minutes since 6:15 a.m.; we both ended up in tears that night. Even though we've had fun - going up to the city to see friends, having people come down to visit, dancing at free concerts in parks, playing in sand and grass and water, visiting farmers' markets, trying new foods, and making huge fucking messes -- I just want a nap.
Oh, my god, a nap.
It's been a rough day today, so probably not the best time to write this up; we started the day with a 45-minute panicked hunt for my keys. It turned out he'd migrated them to under a desk behind some cords, but by the time we located them I was shaken up, stressed out, and late for work; not good, because I have to leave early today to pick up his Lola from the airport, and there is nothing in the refrigerator, and I forgot my lunch, and yeah. All single mothers have my eternal respect for doing this, seriously. I'm a wreck.
Let us speak no more of that, though. Seriously, I'm just in a bad mood. We've had fun, too. We had a playdate (for both of us) with my friend C and her daughter, and even though they're too young to really play "with" each other, it was great to see them squabble over toys, chase each other around, feed each other, and interact. I know he does it at daycare - he has two little friends there that he likes - but I never see it. He came up to my friend's daughter when I was reading her a book and tickled her toes and then ran off! Adorable! And when we go to the park down the hill he follows the bigger, faster kids around with wide, worshipful eyes as they shriek and run and play. Soon he will be One Of Them!
We have to deal with researching, visiting, and applying to preschools soon, too. The good ones around here have wait lists that can be one or two years long, and he's going to need to move in about six or seven months. There are only two other kids at his daycare, and it's been perfect for him for a long time to get so much individual attention and be safe and loved and cherished. But he's getting older, and while that's all still important, he's going to need more social interaction with more kids and a more stimulating environment soon.
I just don't want to tackle the search; I don't have the mental energy for it. I'm still having a hard time keeping my head above water on my own everyday stuff. But I guess that's part of being a parent. I don't get to duck out of things like this if I want to do what's right for my kid. Or rather, that's part of being a mother. I mean, there are reasons our division of labor falls the way it does, but that's how patriarchy works; it makes it easiest and most logical for decisions individuals make to replicate larger societal structures. I don't know any families where the mother isn't/wasn't the one heading up the daycare and preschool searches. < /feminist sidenote>
In any case, my kid is awesome. He can make marks on paper (and other things) with crayons and pencils now, throw a ball, play percussion on various things, roar like a dinosaur, put starter Legos together, climb up into chairs, bring me books to read and sit still for the whole story, point at what he wants, pet the dogs gently, and many other baby tricks that are seriously only exciting to the parents of the individual baby. Thank you for letting me go on about them!
Not that he can say so, yet. Seventeen months and still no words. We've got lots of very earnest and expressive verbal interaction going on, but it's all in Squiddish still, not any recognizable Earth language. He brings me things correctly when I ask for them, and can point to body parts and such, but he doesn't use the words himself. "No," however, even though it is not quite yet a word qua word, is certainly a firm concept; instead of "no," we get dubious looks, outright disobedience (though not yet with mischievous glee), adamant head-shaking, and plopping down in the middle of the floor to scream and cry. The back-arching bit of tantrums has just begun, and it's amazing how fast he now goes from sunny and cheerful to tragic rage; 0-60, at the close of the door to the Magic Backyard or the removal of the Dog Water Bowl Toy or on being deprived of sundry Exciting Sharp Found Objects. Whee, toddlerhood!
Squid at a free concert to benefit a co-op daycare in San Francisco
I don't know that I have a great deal to say about this month except that I'm relieved it's over. Himself's been gone for three out of the last four weeks, so it's been solo parenting, and while that's not bad in and of itself, it leaves me very tired. The Squid's in the process of dropping a nap, too, so his sleep schedule's been screwy, which makes cranky baby and stressed-out mother. The absolute nadir was the day I had cramps and PMS and he had slept a sum total of 30 minutes since 6:15 a.m.; we both ended up in tears that night. Even though we've had fun - going up to the city to see friends, having people come down to visit, dancing at free concerts in parks, playing in sand and grass and water, visiting farmers' markets, trying new foods, and making huge fucking messes -- I just want a nap.
Oh, my god, a nap.
It's been a rough day today, so probably not the best time to write this up; we started the day with a 45-minute panicked hunt for my keys. It turned out he'd migrated them to under a desk behind some cords, but by the time we located them I was shaken up, stressed out, and late for work; not good, because I have to leave early today to pick up his Lola from the airport, and there is nothing in the refrigerator, and I forgot my lunch, and yeah. All single mothers have my eternal respect for doing this, seriously. I'm a wreck.
Let us speak no more of that, though. Seriously, I'm just in a bad mood. We've had fun, too. We had a playdate (for both of us) with my friend C and her daughter, and even though they're too young to really play "with" each other, it was great to see them squabble over toys, chase each other around, feed each other, and interact. I know he does it at daycare - he has two little friends there that he likes - but I never see it. He came up to my friend's daughter when I was reading her a book and tickled her toes and then ran off! Adorable! And when we go to the park down the hill he follows the bigger, faster kids around with wide, worshipful eyes as they shriek and run and play. Soon he will be One Of Them!
We have to deal with researching, visiting, and applying to preschools soon, too. The good ones around here have wait lists that can be one or two years long, and he's going to need to move in about six or seven months. There are only two other kids at his daycare, and it's been perfect for him for a long time to get so much individual attention and be safe and loved and cherished. But he's getting older, and while that's all still important, he's going to need more social interaction with more kids and a more stimulating environment soon.
I just don't want to tackle the search; I don't have the mental energy for it. I'm still having a hard time keeping my head above water on my own everyday stuff. But I guess that's part of being a parent. I don't get to duck out of things like this if I want to do what's right for my kid. Or rather, that's part of being a mother. I mean, there are reasons our division of labor falls the way it does, but that's how patriarchy works; it makes it easiest and most logical for decisions individuals make to replicate larger societal structures. I don't know any families where the mother isn't/wasn't the one heading up the daycare and preschool searches. < /feminist sidenote>
In any case, my kid is awesome. He can make marks on paper (and other things) with crayons and pencils now, throw a ball, play percussion on various things, roar like a dinosaur, put starter Legos together, climb up into chairs, bring me books to read and sit still for the whole story, point at what he wants, pet the dogs gently, and many other baby tricks that are seriously only exciting to the parents of the individual baby. Thank you for letting me go on about them!
posted by The Stute Fish at 09:50
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