Lessons Learned

Big, big weekend at the Brown house. For those of you who haven’t already heard, this weekend saw not-quite-yet-21-month old Pumpkin hit the potty TWO times AND count to six all by herself (identifying objects as she did, not just theoretical counting). Needless to say, I was a proud, proud mama. So proud, in fact, that I think all the potty-hoopla frightened Pumpkin a little. She eventually got back in the saddle, though hesitantly.

Pumpkin’s not just learning, but also teaching mama a few things. Pumpkin’s latest lessons run the gamut from patience to safety to relaxation.

Patience. As my dance teacher used to chide, “Patience is a virtue, have it if you can; seldom in a woman, never in a man.” Or as I could say, “never in a Pumpkin.” The irony of Pumpkin teaching me any lessons about patience is that I learn by her complete lack of the virtue.

I’ll admit. At first I mistook her impatience for an inability to persevere. At least a handful of times during any given play session I hear Pumpkin yell, “I’m guck” (read: “I’m stuck.”). Whether it is because she climbed up the slide a funny way and ended up sitting on her own foot or because she dumped her blocks on top of her own lap, Pumpkin gives up real quick like when the going gets the tiniest bit tough. What I thought was an utter lack of resolve was actually just short-fused frustration emerging anytime something did not go just as she had planned. When she doesn’t know I’m looking, I see her try and try again to accomplish near impossible feats; but if she thinks mama is around and can make it better fast, she has no patience for doing it the hard way (i.e., by herself).

This weekend her impatience manifested itself in a meltdown of epic proportions. After playing at the park, Pumpkin was understandably hungry. Daddy was cooking and she had a snack to tide her over, but it just wasn’t enough. From a nutritional standpoint it was just fine – but it was far not fine from a Pumpkin wanting her pizza and wanting it now standpoint. She started to whine, which quickly escalated into full blown crying, screaming, fit-pitching chaos. I tried redirecting her, getting down on the floor to play with her, and even ignoring her. At one point, when I decided to use my lawyering skills to reason with her, I was met with a slap to the face. Literally.

Now, granted, she didn’t rear back and let me have it or anything, but she did angrily flip her little hand down right on my mouth in a move intended to shut me up. That it did. I was shocked. Enter lesson on patience. Deep breath; explanation that we do not hit; time out; repeat deep breath.

Let’s just say that I hope I’m learning at a fast enough clip to return the favor and instill some patience back in her. I guess with big girl feats like pottying come big girl tantrums.

But I must admit, not all of the discipline is being doled out from mommy to Pumpkin; some of it is the other way. Pumpkin has become downright obsessed with safety. Whether we are in the car, the stroller, or the buggy at the grocery store, Pumpkin wants to be buckled up (or “zipits” as she says). She refuses to proceed with our mission until I pass her safety inspection. If, God forbid, we make it out of the doorway of the grocery store without snapping that ridiculous (not to mention filthy) cloth seat belt around her, I am going to hear it before we are out of produce.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for safety. I always buckle up in the car and I have never, ever, ever driven with her not securely fastened in her carseat. But for goodness sake, in the grocery store? How fast am I really pushing that cart that she has any anxiety about possibly flying out? I humor her and snap it once it’s called to my attention. I suppose a safety obsession is one I should encourage. I’ll be thankful (or at least able to throw it back in her face) when she is 16.

This weekend I also learned a little bit about relaxation. Typically, since the first day I brought her home, when Pumpkin sleeps I do chores. When she was a newborn, I was exhausted. People would tell me to “sleep when she sleeps” but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’ve never been one to just sit around and I’ve really never been one to let stuff sit around. This weekend, after a particularly restless night of teething screams (by the way, WHEN does teething end), I was pooped. I had laundry, and dishes, and a Sunday School lesson, and baking, and work to do; not to mention whatever other things I was just too mentally exhausted to bring to the front of my mind. I waited all morning for her to go down for her nap so I could get it as much of it done in two hours as possible. Then, when she finally went down, do you know what I did? I sprawled out on the couch and read a book. For the whole two hours. When she got up I had her help me unload the dishwasher and fold towels. We got to bond and I got to keep from going insane. Win-win.

Then, to continue my lessons, rather than finish checking off my to-do list, we went to the park and played on the slides for the second day in a row. I figure the number of absolutely perfect days to go to the park with my beautiful daughter is finite; whereas the to-do list and chores will never end. All in all, we had a wonderful weekend and I think I’m going to pass this mama-class after all.

Oh, and I almost forgot the most important lesson of all - you can NEVER have too many Mickeys!