Nope. Sorry Arlo (and Alexander). I should have at least cracked it open before buying.
“You were good so I bought you something!” Nope.
“If you be good you’ll get stuff.” Nope.
I’m just going to avoid that good/bad thing altogether.
Also, there’s a onesie for that:
Don’t confuse your child’s behaviors with their identity. “Bad” and “good” are words best used to describe milk or your day. “You are a bad boy!” or “You are a good girl!” are phrases that label, shame, and even favor. Decide today to stop labeling your kids. If their behavior is unacceptable, use words that describe their actions, like unsafe, hurtful, unkind, or disrespectful, etc.. When their behaviors are positive, try words like cooperative, patient, kind, helpful, loving, or giving, etc. Your kids will hear your words in their heads for a lifetime. Try to make those memories encouraging!
I returned those books to Whole Foods and instead bought two organic, hydroponically grown, locally sourced lumps of coal. Merry Christmas Kids!
I’ve been thinking a lot about death lately; mine, specifically.
Last week the longest nap Farrah took was 40 minutes. That happened once and that was it for the day.
I can’t believe her sleep is deteriorating. I didn’t think it possible. If I had to guess I’d say she’s doing the switch from “two” naps to one at a very premature age (9 months) and that her one nap is going to be less than an hour. Death.
I think things like “Why is she trying to kill me when I am the very thing sustaining her?” and “I wish I was dead because that’s the only way I’m going to get a break.” Not that I want to die – the opposite is true – I’m just like Kevin Costner running from the CIA only with less chest hair: there’s just No Way Out. It was a very bad week with lots of anger and outrage, tears and screaming. I am very good at separating what I can do with Farrah and what I can’t (this blog for example) and I cannot fill an entire day, minus 40 minutes, with my 9-month-old. I can, but I don’t want to. I will disappear completely.
I was angry, angry, angry all week-long. Thursday night I sobbed in the bathroom, sick and sad and tired of my ugliness. Friday I made it to Acceptance. I had to in order to save us both. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, I have a few ideas (stop writing this blog for example), but I don’t know what it’s going to take or if it’s going to take all of me. I suspect the latter.
I asked Kris to take some pictures of me and Farrah this weekend. I needed to see us being us, the beauty of us. I need something to hold while I’m in Acceptance.
I went shopping this weekend because since losing some weight, my winter wardrobe looks like this:
Some fine options and I can dress on very little (remember my 100-Day-Wardrobe?) but at least half of those tops are very breastfeeding-unfriendly. I needed to replenish my stores and came home with two INC tunics and one Michael Kors blouse and all three for $60.
On a side note, these three tops fit well and they are a M, L and XL. One of the best things I did to improve my style was forget about sizes and just try things on. Then I mull it over and try them on again, even if that means buying them and possibly having to return later (you know, kids + shopping), even if it’s for a $20 tunic. I could have that tunic for many years and I think very seriously about such purchases.
Today’s top is a vibrant print deep in my color wheelhouse, and I’m wearing my Wisconsin winter staple on the bottom – jeans. This top also has a neato link detail at the neck which will keep Farrah busy in her favorite seat, my arms. The length of both tunics is not great for breastfeeding (more fabric to hike up and over) but they are thin and worth it because they are pretty. (Crap, did I just write that?)
My eyes are swathed in a green eyeshadow (MAC) and by swathed I mean swathed. I’ve decided to I can save 30 seconds by just brushing shadow all over my eyes and brow instead of trying to color in my lids. Efficiency.
Hope your week kicks off in style, in any size and in any color.
Joining Patti at Not Dead Yet Style. You should too!
One of the things I remember most about Christmas is going to bed with a Santa pillow every night. It was very special to me and surely acted as conduit to many sugar-plum visions. I’d like Arlo and Farrah to have a treasure too but because there is no greater treasure than SLEEP, I am loath to deck those bedroom walls. Still, I wanted to give them something special so nostalgia drew me to these and Goodwill drew them to my shopping cart:
Meep! I love the idea of a small holiday light in their rooms as they drift off to sleep but then after Christmas will they become dependent on a nightlight? STOP. Shut up and live in the moment, Lisa. ”Run back upstairs to your room and look for something sparkly!” will be Arlo’s Sunday Advent Calendar activity, and he’ll do it and he’ll see his tiny tree that Kris turned on while we were downstairs. But this is not a post about Christmas. This is a post about gender identity.
Why the tree for Arlo? Why not the snowflake for Arlo?
Arlo is in the Snowflake room at Preschool of the Arts; in fact he often identifies as a Snowflake. And yet my gut reaction was to give him the tree and Farrah the snowflake. Tree, strong, wood, dark, man. Snowflake, soft, pretty, delicate, girl. Grrrrr! Curse you, Brain! And a lifetime of conditioning! This year I break the cycle delicately. The sparkly snowflake will be what hangs in his sparkly room on Sunday morning. Next year perhaps it will be the tree. I will let him decide. Until Farrah wants it and then I don’t know what …. what …..
Live in the moment, Lisa. LIVE.IN.IT.
I’ll never be rich because I keep trying to pull nails out of the wall with my fingernails.
I’ll also never be rich because I did not think of these:
Those socks are sewn to those pants. If you look up adorable in the dictionary you will see a picture of baby socks. On a kitten. Baby socks are adorable but they are useless, certainly on a crawling baby. Or a kitten. Who’s going to pull those tiny things up all day every day? Not it. Someone in San Francisco is getting rich though because she is making something useful out of adorable. Such a simple idea for which I paid $32.
Farrah does has more baby socks than she needs and since I don’t sew I made this instead:
Our very first Advent Calendar!
(Farrah didn’t have 24 white socks, I took her stash and then bolstered from Goodwill.)
Our first stocking held the activity of painting each other’s nails with sparkly polish.
And the countdown to Christmas begins!
Where are my gloves?
We got our Christmas tree on Saturday and not at the Home Depot parking lot which I vowed to do after last year’s fiasco, but at a tree farm.
It was cool because we were going with our friends and this farm had reindeer. Two reindeer! One of the workers greeted us wearing a reindeer pelt though, which felt counter-something to me. He had the sweet eyes for Farrah Star, naturally, but when I strapped her in the carrier, forward-facing, he said, “Whoa – I sure hope when you fall you fall BACKWARDS!” And I gave him a chuckle as I continued to work the straps and buckles and then he said it again and then I think again and since I couldn’t escape I asked if his property was unsafe, could I expect to fall while getting my Christmas tree? Then he chuckled and I finally got to walk away, baby attached.
This exchange did two things, 1) made me feel a twinge of guilt for wearing Farrah forward and 2) reminded me about the controversy over forward-facing strollers.
“Parents who choose a stroller that seats their baby facing away from them could risk long-term development problems in their children, according to a study published Friday. The research found that children not facing the person pushing them were significantly less likely to talk, laugh and interact with their parents.” – PHD in Parenting
I’ve yet to push Farrah forward in a stroller because it doesn’t feel right to me, study or no study. Wearing her, yes, but pushing her, no. At some point that will change, after all, now I do with this Arlo:
Maybe this switch will happen sooner than Arlo’s, maybe not, but I trust Farrah will let me know when Farrah is ready. Maybe by next Christmas.
We wrapped presents.
We went to the only store that was open
I put your coat on backwards.
We went for a walk to someplace new while the sun was still shining.
It was cold
but we had fun exploring.
We came home and some of us played and some of us worked and sometimes we did both together.
We did not eat a turkey or watch football. We did not break a wishbone or even talk about that for which we are thankful. We just spent Thursday together. You kept saying “It was a BIG day today Momma.” And it was. Thank you for being my son. Thank you for being my daughter. Thank you for being my husband. I love you.