parenting

Or, Sometime You Don't Get What You Want.

Act 1
Scene: getting ready for school.

Mom: Ellis, go upstairs and brush your teeth.
Ellis: yells NOOO!
Mom: Ellis, remember what Daddy said about yelling. That is not nice talking.
E: oh. I'm sorry, Mommy. hugs
Mom: Now go upstairs and brush your teeth.
E: No, thank you, mommy.

Act 2
Scene: Marlowe has discovered the container of cookies in a bag of stuff Grammy sent over. M would help himself but can't get the lid off.

Marlowe: PLEASE!!!!!!!
Mom: No, Marlowe, those are for when it's light out. You can have one tomorrow.
Marlowe finds Ellis and hands him the container PLEASE!!!!!!!!!

Thankfully, Ellis was more than happy to play the role of boss: No, Marlowe.

On being a fun mom:

When I'm a fun mom, the kids get to do cool stuff. Like play with water. Or paint. Or scoop rice. They have a blast. They are doing great things that are developmentally good for them. I don't go all free reign with them, but I do hold back the war cry of "Mess!" some.

There is nothing that either my 19mo or my 4 1/2 yo loves more than to play with a trickle of water in the sink. Pouring, filling, stirring. Great activities for the 18mo developing motor skills. When I'm a fun mom, I let him do it, and then mop up later, suppressing the urge to cringe and enjoying his happiness.

The other day Ellis spent nearly 20 minutes moving about 15 popcorn kernels around an empty egg carton that had some leftover liquid purple watercolor in it.

The busy-ness! The happiness! The learning! *sigh* The mess!

1. If I run out of Hyland's Teething Tablets should I wait several days before getting more or should I run with all haste to the nearest teething tablets distributor to replenish my supply?
You should run with all haste. No, nursing won't "do" in a pinch. Unless, of course, you want to stay up all night long with the baby. Upon taking the teething tablets, you will notice a demonstrable calm settle over baby who, like, all of a sudden is going to sleep of all things!

2. I have a hard time at the end of the day, say from about 4 pm on. It is a very chaotic time and my patience is thin. Any ideas to help me relax?
Well, I have found that well-timed glass of wine, preferably shared with ones spouse over dinner does wonders to relax and rejuvenate the parenting soul to soldier on through bedtime. Yes, relaxing and rejuvenating are kind of opposites. Um. I'm too tired to sort this one out. And then when the kids are in bed, you can either a) have another glass or b) have coffee ice cream with chocolate syrup on it.

3. The DVD player is not hooked up, what should i do with my sick kid?
Let him watch a DVD on your laptop.

4. We're moving in two weeks. I stink at packing. What should I do?
Weep, sort papers, weep, watch hubby mow through boxes like a freaky packing machine. Focus on how you'll have three times the space and can walk to school. Eyes on the prize!

Ellis runs ahead of me in all his four-year-old boy vivacity. As I lumber along with the baby on my back, lugging our little bag full of snacks and water bottles, I watch him, waiting for the moment, just before he disappears around the corner, when he'll turn around and make eye contact. I wave him down signing WAIT FOR MOMMY! but he's already plopped down on the park bench and signs WAIT. As I get close, up he pops again, and I watch the back of his head bounce, jump, and dash along.

Cut to later. Ellis is picking up his fifteen-month-old brother. Again. He adores his brother, but sometimes his love is a bit too lavish. I kneel down, fully intending to affirm his love, but to talk with him about more appropriate ways to express it, while firmly prying his arms away from the baby, who is screaming his head off. Ellis drops to the ground, flailing and squeezing his eyes shut.

Four years ago, when we learned that our brand new baby was born profoundly deaf, we knew our experience as parents would be different. We got a kick out of being able to vacuum in the same room as a sleeping baby. We cheered at his vocabulary of ASL at such a young age. We stomped the floor to get his attention.

However, I feel like it's only been this year that I've really begun to get a glimpse at what it means for Ellis to be deaf, and deaf in our hearing family. I've started to see how he settles himself socially. Personally, I'm starting to see the particular ways I fall short as a parent. True, nobody is a perfect parent, but I'm speaking of the ways in which I struggle as a Hearing Parent of a Deaf Kid.

The primary aspect of this unique experience is communication. We are settling into the bilingual dance between spoken English and ASL. Two years ago Ellis got a CI. He's doing pretty well with it, his receptive language is stronger than expressive. I can talk to him without signing through the simple aspects of our routine and that works out fine. He doesn't like to wear it at home. We don't press him to, but, I will admit, I may or may not have bribed him with chocolate milk to wear it at home sometimes. He wears it at school or usually any other time when we're not home. He is most comfortable with ASL, and that is the language we use with him primarily, even if we are speaking, too. This is especially true in discipline situations, where I need to use whatever language we have to its fullest, and since ASL is his preferred language, that is what I use.

From the beginning, we've pursued our education in ASL vigorously. We've taken classes, lived in the dictionary, had Deaf Mentors. But we are far from native signers. We get by. We can communicate fairly effectively with our four-year-old: we can read books in ASL and talk to him about the world around us.

I have found lately, though, that my ASL is starting to fail my parenting needs. It's taken me awhile to figure out what the matter is, because I know the signs and how to use them, but somehow I'm failing to communicate. I think there is a Deaf presence that I don't have. I'm not really sure how to describe it. A way of using my body that transcends the actual signs, that enters into his space, meets it, communicates with it. Connection is a key part of my parenting philosophy and to be so defeated by the basic communication that I need to make it happen is beyond frustrating. It has deeply discouraged me in these past few months especially.

It's not all a total big Fail. We do get along, after all. We do connect. I give him as much physical presence as I can. I give him as much language as I can. And we are a happy family. But sometimes I look at my hearing friends with their hearing kids--parents and children who speak the same native language--and wonder at the ease of it all. To just talk, effortlessly.

He shuts his eyes. Bam. Communication stops. He glances away from me, focusing back to his play. Communication stops. Sure, he might pick up more than I think peripherally. But it is unnerving to have the eye contact lost. The conversation could just be small talk about his play, but it is lost mid-sentence. Is my signing that weak? Do I not have the persona to indicate that I'm talking to you? Ellis seems to think that I can only hear him if I'm looking at him. He screams my name while I am driving until I glance back giving him the visual acknowledgment that I hear him. (Dang! We need a mirror!) He also thinks that if I don't acknowledge him the split second he says my name that I must not hear him, so he repeats it at blood-curdling volumes, until I can turn to him. I'm rambling a little. This summer has been a roller-coaster. My nerves feel shot from his screaming my name, though it's getting a little better.

He's changing socially. We were at a birthday party with all hearing kids, kids he's known since infancy. Another guest, another little boy, ran up to Ellis, hi! what's your name? Ellis didn't know what he said. How much do I step in to intervene? Do I translate for E? Let it go and watch him slip into isolated play? Do I go through the conversation for the bazillionth time? oh, hi. His name is Ellis. He can't hear you, so we talk with our hands. can you say 'hi' like this? Some kids get into it. Some feel awkward and back away. Bless the little British kid at the park the other day who made fast friends with E despite his curious quality.

How do I balance it all? As a mother I want to protect him from all this. I want to make a world that fits him perfectly. I don't want to have to teach him how to negotiate through languages and worlds. I wish I had more to offer him. Yet at the same time, he's doing a pretty good job. Sometimes, I just have to stop and let go. Let him run ahead, trusting that he'll turn around. After all, I am not in control. The God who gave me Ellis also has Ellis perfectly in His arms.

Yesterday was the first day of the new school year for Ellis. Since we've been involved with school since his first year (early intervention), it seems old hat to us now, even though he is only four. But he moves up to a new classroom. He's in the class with the kids with the most auditory access. And yesterday he came home signing so much. I think we all missed school.

I'll admit, it's been a rough couple of weeks. Not always knowing what to do with my super creative, active boys. I feel the language gap so strongly sometimes. My ASL can barely keep up with my parenting needs. School gives all a little more structure to our day, outlet for creativity, satisfies Ellis's social needs that I can't satisfy, and a few hours of peace at home. I actually *gasp* got the living room clean with no other major household disasters yesterday. It was awesome.

And so my brilliant, confidant, sweet boy ventures forth on another year!

I've been wanting to do a little post about Marlowe since he turned 15months a week ago. But well, let me just tell you something.

Last Tuesday, a week ago today, he turned 15 mos. I heard him bustling about in the kitchen, assumed he was at his usual chores of emptying all the cupboards of tupperware and pots and pans. He's so helpful that way.

I walk in the kitchen, and he's actually standing on the kitchen table eating a bag of blue corn chips.
I'm pretty sure Ellis could only walk for about two weeks when he was that age.

I spend all day making sure Ellis is not hauling Marlowe around unwillingly. Making sure Marlowe isn't crawling up some scalable delight.

The rest of the day revolves around Marlowe's favorite word: NAH.
It means, "I want that." He says it all day and points to everything, because basically he wants everything. He will sign and say PLEASE! NAH, PLEASE!!! It's so nice, really. It's just nearly impossible to satisfy.

Some other words are dog, woof-woof, duck, choo-choo, Daddy, Ellis (yuh-yih), hot (accompanied with a blow), please, thank-you, all-done, night-night, and others. It's just hard to think of what they are with NAH resonating in my ears. He signs them all, too.

He's a pleasantly demanding child. NAH!!!

While I took a quick shower during Marlowe's morning nap, Ellis dismantled his room.

I should step back. A few days ago Chris remarked that Ellis had not made a fort in the new bunk bed yet. I pointed out that the bunk bed already is kind of a fort. So when I saw Ellis amassing pillows and blankets before I got into the shower, I smiled thinking now he was building his fort.

When I got out, every toy box had been dumped into the bottom bunk. ALL the toys were in the bottom bunk. All the furniture was moved. And the rug balled up halfway. He was making a room fort. These Joneses. They don't do things by half. He was so focused that it took me nearly an hour to pry him away for park day.

When we got back from the park and hot outdoor play, I plopped him in front of the TV to cool off, and I set about putting his room back together. I actually rearranged it a little bit. And put all the toys back. And vacuumed. It took 2 1/2 hours to undo 10-15mins worth of destruction. But it's roomier now, and I wouldn't have rearranged it if he hadn't done that. While I cleaning, he TP'd the couch. Then scooped up all the toilet paper, put it in a plastic bag, and filled it with water.

Just reporting facts here.

We went to IKEA for dinner.

Yesterday my mom and I zipped over to Ikea and got a new bed for the boys. It barely fit in her minivan, so I'm so glad I hopped on the opportunity. We got KURA, the reversible bed. One way it's a bunk bed, with the bottom bunk on the floor and the top bunk no higher than my shoulder with boxed sides. Perfect for the stages my boys are in.

I'm embarking on what I project will be a yearlong venture to get Marlowe sleeping permanently on the bottom bunk. No pressure. For now, I plan to put him there for naps when Ellis is at school. I must say, he had a mighty fine nap there this morning. yay!! I'm a fan of a baby mattress on the floor. I like the freedom to lie down next to them to help them learn how to sleep.

I've been having horror flashbacks of Ellis's second year of life, 12-24months. I used to bring the couch cushions onto the floor of his room every night. What the heck was I thinking!? To be honest, there was so much other dreadful stuff going on in my life, that the couch cushion endeavor just triggers more memories...
Anyway, not to burden you with my angst. Just that getting this bed is affirming and relieving on so many levels. I'm not sure i could explain.

And yes, we got the canopy for the top.

So I'm still navigating this two kid thing. It takes a long time to have a baby. First, there is the pregnancy, which is 40 weeks of FOR.E.VER. The actual labor and delivery part is short, sweet, and to the point, and then there's this long, nebulous stage called post-partum. I'm not sure how long that lasts. Maybe it's different for each person. I remember this with Ellis, too, getting a weird surge of weird hormones around nine months. At the time I blamed it on my thesis and other stressful life's circumstances, but really, I should stick by my personal motto: "Never underestimate the power of the hormone."

The other night, though, I really felt like I was sobbing over something legitimate.

As we prepare for another baby, there's all the things we expect: the intensity of a newborn's needs, the care of the other kid, and the fleetingness of it all in the end. We've sort of found a new routine. Two kids, two parents. Newborn goes with mom, 3yo goes with dad. And a newborn is so all-consuming that I have felt, well, consumed. I have struggled to balance the needs of two kids. Thank goodness for babywearing! Marlowe has been there and back again from day one tied to me in some fashion as we kept up with Ellis's therapy, need to climb on playgrounds, need to play in the snow, etc. When other adults help me, it usually is taking Ellis so that I could focus on Marlowe. And then Ellis started school full-time, which is hard on me, but something we've come to terms with as the best situation for education right now.

At the beginning of the school year, I planned after school picnics as a time for us to reconnect and bond. With Marlowe being so young, he could pretty much just lie there or be held while I focused on Ellis. Then the weather got cold and Marlowe got active. And the after school until bedtime period is a long, fussy one for Marlowe. So now I throw some snacks at Ellis, yell at him to quit jumping on the couch, try to remember to take him to the toilet, maybe play with him for a few minutes, and try to keep him happy while I make dinner.

The other night I was crying on the couch because I miss Ellis!

We used to spend a lot more time together. I did so much stuff with him. We had so much fun. I miss that time we had when it was just he and I. I feel like between the attention of taking care of a new baby and his going to school, I've lost a lot of time with him. And he's only three and a half!!!

My dear hubby came up with the best idea ever: Mommy Dates.

So once a week, I will take Ellis out, just the two of us. And I can focus solely on him. It actually serves double-duty. Because Daddy gets to spend extra time with Marlowe, time that he has had less of than when Ellis was a baby.

This afternoon we had our first Mommy Date. Earlier in the day I was at the children's museum with Marlowe and a group from church, and I bought Ellis a new puzzle in the gift shop. So I took Ellis and the puzzle to a nearby coffee shop, where we got coffee and orangina to take upstairs.

We did the puzzle three times. The second time, he turned into it puzzle/memory game. We talked about the picture and different things around the room we were sitting in. We sat at the table in a coffee shop for a good hour (my 3yo!), soaking up the time together.

Behind us, the coffee roaster was busy in the back roasting beans hummingly. As we were leaving, I pointed it out to Ellis. The guy roasting the coffee invited us back for a closer look and showed Ellis all how it worked and had him "help" pour beans. He gave Ellis a handful of coffee beans. It was so cool! Ellis was thrilled. We had such a fantastic time together. I can hardly wait for next week!

My kids struggle to stay asleep. It's kind of rough going. I've read about sleep. I've tried every strategy possible. People have offered well-meaning advice (nb: don't offer advice). I've done all I can. Seriously, I have. I really don't think there's food allergies or reflux. I've tried giving him more and less independence/space. I've tried swaddling/unswaddling. I've tried putting him in his carseat/in his pack'n'play. He has always had a consistent sleep routine. Sleepy signs? I'm a pro at reading them. When I say I have tried it, I mean it. (Except for extended crying-it-out, which I simply don't believe in.)

Now I just must wait as they grow out of it. And they will. I normally don't talk about it, because what can I say? Marlowe may go a couple of hours without waking, but at certain points in the night, it is hourly. I cope by sharing sleep with my babies. His waking is of minimal disturbance to me as possible, because all I have to do is scooch over a little and pop his pacifier in or switch sides and let him nurse a little. Sometimes he really cries a lot, and then all I have to do is sit up in bed and rock and hold him and soothe him back to sleep. He goes to sleep at naps/night without any trouble. It's staying asleep that's so difficult.

For the most part, I cope, because I have to, and I have sort of gotten used to it. I struggle in more abstract respects, like stringing thoughts together--I can't imagine if I had tried to stay in grad school. I have difficulty remembering things and sometimes following through in certain tasks. A touch of ADD plus extended sleep deprivation just really decimates some of those mundane tasks that seem so effortless for some people, like going to the post office, organizing the pantry, or sorting the clothes the kids have grown out of. Lately I've been trying to sit down and just really try to think on a subject, let the thoughts roll together and form coherence, an activity that I used to do every day for a meager living in grad school. It's really difficult and frustrating now. I feel like a marathon runner who broke a leg in the fog.

I'm not sure why I'm writing about it now. It's such a sensitive topic. It's hard to expose this "parenting failure" of mine, because of just that, I feel like it looks like I'm a failure. I struggle that I care so much what others think that it actually makes me feel that way. I'm pretty confident that I've dealt with the situation as best I can, so why should it feel like failure? or why should worry that other people will think that I've failed in some respect? Sometimes I sit holding him at night, and I begin to feel angry. I think of what I would imagine people to say, judging my choices, and I feel isolated and hurt. Now this is probably a character flaw of my own--getting angry at the imaginary voices. But the isolation is real. I sit and just wonder, how? HOW? HOW!??! do other babies simply sleep? And then I think of my boys and their little brains, how active they must be, that they need to reach for the familiarity and the stability of their parents' love, even in the middle of the night, and how that love is freely offered, night after night. How it is one more way that I can show Christ's love to them. And then I go to sleep, confident and peaceful that it is not "mommy failure" to serve my kids, and in a strange way, content with the fact I will assuredly be awakened much sooner than my earthly body would prefer.