Finding my Voice
Yesterday I found my Mom Voice. This is the voice that comes, unsummoned, from the depths of a mother when it is needed. It stops adults in their tracks, and makes bullies cry. I can’t believe it took me over 2 years, but I found mine. And what did it say? It said, “HANNAH! Stop throwing things on the floor.”
It was loud, it was firm, and it was forceful. But it was not frantic, angry, or unkind. It made Hannah stop and look at me with big eyes. But then? Then, she grinned and resumed her dispersal of a whole bag of baby carrots across the kitchen.
Yet again, words are meaningless unless they are backed by action. Particularly to a 2-year-old who is having a great time, and doesn’t really want to abandon the activity. Still, the dead stop, however brief, is more than I’ve achieved through other means. So, there you go.
New Computer
We got a shiny new computer from the nice people at Dell yesterday. It’s beautiful, but I’m all messed up. It has Windows Vista, which is just different enough to be confusin. And nothing works at the moment, because we have to set it all up from scratch. And the whole thing is just so quiet. It’s spooky, not having an audible hum.
I am not a person who embraces change, no matter how positive it is. I am currently eyeing the old, broken computer and feeling wistful. It crashed all the time, and it was slow, but it was mine. This one, with the fancy new wide screen and the pretty little speakers is just not mine yet. I am sure I will grow to love it, but it will take a while.
Ah, rich people’s problems. How fortunate I am. And how much of a whiner.
The Best Things in Life …
… cost 99 cents at Value Village.
I mean really, how can you beat hot pink butterfly sunglasses? You can’t. I’m only kicking myself because I didn’t pick up the other 4 pairs they had. They’re flimsy as can be, but Hannah loves them.
You can see another recent snapshot of the kidlet here. And, as usual, my latest crafty exploits are here.
No Fooling Her
Heard tonight in our kitchen, as the peas cooked in the microwave:
Hannah – That is peas.
Amber – Those are peas.
Hannah – Yeah, it is.
Amber – The peas are cooking.
Hannah – No, that is not cooking, that is peas.
Pain of Childbirth
I was listening to the BBC today, and they were talking to the author of a book on the history of childbirth. She was discussing childbirth in the distant past, and stated that it’s always been understood to the the most painful experience a woman will have.
I wonder about this. I don’t think it was the most painful experience I’ve ever had. I had no epidural or pain relief, other than a few puffs of gas once I was complete and before I started pushing. And still, I don’t remember being in agony. I remember being very uncomfortable, and wondering how long I could go on. But was it worse than breaking my arm? Or a really bad migraine? I don’t think it was. The fact that I’m not certain which is worse says a lot.
So pronouncements about labour pain make me feel indignant. Why tell women that this will be excruciating, horrible, the worst thing ever? Even if it is, and I’m sure that for some women some of the time this is true, are they really better equipped if they’re scared? I don’t think so. I think the best thing in labour is to remain as relaxed as possible. Fear can only make things worse. Sure, explain the normal course of labour. Give coping mechanisms, outline options, all that stuff. But fear-mongering serves no one.
In the end, of course, there’s one critical difference between childbirth and a broken bone. At the end of childbirth, you have a baby. This is amazing, and in my mind puts the whole thing in context. If some pretty extreme discomfort for a few hours is the price I pay for bringing forth a new life, well, that’s worthwhile by any standard. Not something to be afraid of.
Mine!
We have a fun new toddler behaviour around our house. For the past few months Hannah has been very interested in assigning ownership of objects. Any baseball cap is ‘Grandpa’s hat.’ Any pop can is ‘Daddy’s juice’. Anything in Hannah’s hands is ‘Hannah’s’.
Now we’ve graduated from assigning ownership to claiming property rights. We hear a lot of, “No, mine!” The object in question can be a long discarded, cold, crusty piece of toast that I was trying to clean up. Or, it can be another child’s toy that Hannah is playing with. Anything that Hannah has been using or playing with is hers. And woe to whoever touches it, or even looks at it sideways.
My favourite parenting book, Kids Are Worth It! by Barbara Coloroso, discusses how children rebel and seek independence at age 2, age 5, and then during adolescence. How it’s important to let this proceed along a reasonable course, so that kids can establish their own identities. And I buy that. I’m doing my best to take this new push for independence in stride. Most of these little behaviours are just developmental stages that Hannah will outgrow with or without my intervention, and I know that. But, when I’m just trying to clean the living room and I’m enduring another storm from Hurricane Hannah, it’s really hard to muster the necessary patience.
Still, I’m doing my best, and most days that’s pretty good. If I seem a little jumpy, it’s just because I know I will fail. And the tantrums will come, in spite of my best efforts. And so, I live in fear of certain doom, at the hands of merciless 2-year-old. 
Toy Bags
Those of you who look at the online photos of my crafts may have noticed some photos of toy diaper bags. These are my latest creation, and I’m pretty excited about them. What they are is smaller, stripped down versions of diaper bags, complete with little change pads to match. I’ve made one for Hannah, and she loves it. I’ve made a few for friends’ kids, and they’re also hits in those houses. So, having more fabric than I know what to do with, I decided to make a few extra for my on-line store.
This is the fun part of having a little design enterprise. You get to conceive of something cool, see it to fruition, and share it with the world. Or, the 4 people who visit your website. Either way, it’s fun. Because they’re something I made, that someone else uses and enjoys. It’s even better when that person is a very exuberant toddler, who insists on carrying her own snack in her own bag when we go out now.
Woe is Me
I am sick today. It’s hardly the end of the world, I have a head cold. Yesterday Hannah was sick, and today we’re both sick.
My problem is that I am a horrible sick-o. I spike a fever at the drop of a hat, and that makes me shivery and sad and irrational. But, you can’t really tend to your own needs when you have a two year old, especially one who’s under the weather herself. I am The Mom, and this means that I am always on duty. Even if I had my own mother here to take care of me, my sick kid would still be hanging off me like an appendage. And she’s two, so I can’t blame her. She needs tending to more than I do.
The whole thing makes me feel very sorry for myself, though. I want to lie down on the couch and watch my shows. I want someone to bring me food. I do not want to sit through another episode of The Wiggles. I actually don’t mind The Wiggles, but no adult is meant to see this much of them. 
Screen Time
Television viewing is a hot-button issue for parents of young children, myself included. In theory, I would prefer that Hannah watch no television. In practice, she watches at least an hour every day. On days like today when she’s teething and grumpy and there’s a full moon, I’d rather not tally up the time spent gazing at the television. Because as much as I don’t like the idea of parking my kid in front of the electronic babysitter, in practice it comes in very handy.
I watch my fair share of TV, although it’s much less now than it was pre-toddler. Most of my shows have to wait until after Hannah’s in bed. But so does housework, sewing, spending time with my husband, showering, balancing the bank account (and on, and on). I simply don’t have time to spend 3 hours every evening on the couch. Still, I am setting an example of regular television viewing.
So, what’s the answer? I don’t think there is one. I try to limit what Hannah sees, and thanks to Tivo that’s pretty easy. And, when my kid hears the opening notes to the Daily Show theme song and shouts “Jon!”? Well, I laugh, I cringe, and I recognize that I’m doing my best. It will have to be good enough.
You can see the latest snapshots of Hannah here. And you can see my latest knitting project here.
