What Hasn’t Changed

There once were three girls — Jen, Jen and Erin from Erin. Their story began in first grade. And has continued for 25 years.

In grade school we were a concentrated group. Several of only 30. There were babysitter’s clubs, Girl Scouts and soccer. Dances, movie theaters and skating rinks. Band class and plays. Carpooling in minivans, station wagons and trucks.

Sleepovers at parents’ houses, staying up all night talking about boys.
Fights with parents, fights with boys, fights with each other.
Friendly competition and teasing.
Uncontrollable laughter, adventures and tears.
Stranger-than-fiction situations that we find ourselves in.
We witnessed each other’s terrifying trials, and came together for resilient comebacks.

We came together.
And that hasn’t changed.

In high school we were among hundreds. There were math clubs, band classes and Model U.N. Dances, bus rides and wrestling meets. Soccer games, plays and student council. Driving ourselves in minivans, station wagons and trucks.

Sleepovers at parents’ houses, staying up all night talking about boys.
Fights with parents, fights with boys, fights with each other.
Friendly competition and teasing.
Uncontrollable laughter, adventures and tears.
Stranger-than-fiction situations that we find ourselves in.
We witnessed each other’s terrifying trials, and came together for resilient comebacks.

We came together.
And that hasn’t changed.

College brought the beginning of accustomed separation. Only quarterly meetings at best. Each of us apart and on our own. We were one in thousands. There were soccer games, plays and student government. Surprise visits, parties, Christmas and summer. Graduation and life paths begun.

Sleepovers at parents’ houses, staying up all night talking about boys.
Fights with parents, fights with boys, fights with each other.
Friendly competition and teasing.
Uncontrollable laughter, adventures and tears.
Stranger-than-fiction situations that we find ourselves in.

 

 

We witnessed each other’s terrifying trials, and came together for resilient comebacks.

We came together.
And that hasn’t changed.

Boyfriends come and gone, mates chosen and wedding days celebrated. The miraculous births of children.

Sleepovers at parents’ houses, staying up all night talking about boys.
Fights with parents, fights with boys, fights with each other.
Friendly competition and teasing.
Uncontrollable laughter, adventures and tears.
Stranger-than-fiction situations that we find ourselves in.
We witnessed each other’s terrifying trials, and came together for resilient comebacks.

We came together.
And that hasn’t changed.

A restorative four days. In the Catskills of upstate New York. In a scene plucked straight from a story book. With two dogs, a cat, a babbling brook. A mountain, all-day coffee, and reading nooks. Warm pumpkin bread, a Coach Mike, and a Captain Jack. A Will and a Peter Rabbit.

Our friendship, like a tree, has strong, deep roots. And branches that separate from the base. They go off in twisted, altering directions. Each branch is a path, a road. Yet one part of a life-sustaining whole.

We came together.

Some things never will change. And I thank God for that.

I thank God for them.

Where is His Mama?

So Monkey has this thing about mamas. Everyone needs to have one. Whenever we’re reading books, she’ll notice if the character’s mama is not mentioned or present. And it concerns her. So much so, that she finds it necessary to assign another character in the book to be the “mama,” even if clearly, that character is not the mama.

This type of thing has happened before when we’re out in public, like at the grocery store. She’ll see someone who’s middle-aged and ask me, “Where is her mama?”

Or the time that she was sick and we let her lay on the couch and watch Finding Nemo. (Thank God I remembered the movie well enough to fast forward through the beginning when the mom and all the other babies die, unlike when I did not remember The Little Mermaid’s scary shark scene at the beginning and did not fast forward, and now Monkey is afraid of sharks in her room at night). Right away Monkey picked up on the fact that there was Nemo and his dad, but no mama. Believe me, I was NOT going to explain where that mother was.

And then last night we were reading a Care Bears book about Thanksgiving. It was called “A Very Grumpy Thanksgiving,” and Grumpy was very grumpy and unthankful. And immediately Monkey said, “Where is his mama?” I stammered and hesitated, because honestly, I wasn’t sure how to explain that I didn’t think Care Bears had mothers, and she got teary-eyed and started to cry!! She then declared that Cheer Bear was the mama, and I just agreed.

This “where is the mama” thing has been going on for at least a year, and honestly I don’t know what to say! Every explanation I come up with in my head is more traumatizing than the last!

I don’t know how to tell her that some day, sooner than I’d prefer to think about I’m sure, she’ll be grown up and she won’t need me like she needs me now. She won’t need me for physical comfort and security. She won’t need me to help her get dressed or go to the bathroom. She won’t need me to prepare her food or play with her.

Even worse, how do I explain to her that a character in a storybook just plain doesn’t have a mama!?? Or what about real kids, not in a storybook, who don’t have a mama around? Obviously I’m not going to tell her that now, but at some point I’ll have to.

At her tender age of 2.5, it’s incomprehensible that not everyone has a mama with them practically all the time. It’s just not something that exists in her perception of the world. To her, child/baby = mama.

It breaks my heart to think about her worrying over whether someone has a mama or not. It shows her vulnerability, her compassion, and most of all, how much she needs me. It makes me want to scoop her up and squeeze her tight and never let go.

It breaks my heart to think about a time when she is old enough to understand that children are not with their mamas all the time, and that eventually they do go out into the world — alone.

I know she’ll always need me — to help mend her broken heart when friends or boyfriends treat her poorly, to listen, to offer advice and guidance when asked — but she won’t need me like she needs me now.

And maybe I’m a little heartbroken because that time is kind of incomprehensible to me too.

Two weeks ago Taylor Swift, the one with whom I am infatuated, released her Speak Now album and I can’t stop listening to it. One of the songs is called Never Grow Up. I think this is my new favorite super sappy song about children and parents. This is the song that I’ll cry to when my babies go off to college, just like my mom cried to Suzy Bogguss’ Letting Go.

Never Grow Up (Taylor Swift)

Your little hands wrapped around my finger
And it’s so quiet in the world tonight
Your little eyelids flutter cause you’re dreaming
So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite nightlight

To you, everything’s funny
You got nothing to regret
I’d give all I have honey
If you could stay like that

(Chorus:)
Oh darling don’t you ever grow up, don’t you ever grow up
Just stay this little
Oh darling don’t you ever grow up, don’t you ever grow up
It could stay this simple
I won’t let nobody hurt you
Won’t let no one break your heart
No one will desert you
Just try to never grow up
Never grow up

You’re in the car on the way to the movies
And you’re mortified your mama’s dropping you off
At 14, there’s just so much you can’t do
And you can’t wait to move out
Someday and call your own shots

But don’t make her drop you off around the block
Remember she’s getting older too
And don’t lose the way that you dance around in your PJs getting ready for school

(Chorus:)
Oh darling don’t you ever grow up, don’t you ever grow up
Just stay this little
Oh darling don’t you ever grow up, don’t you ever grow up

It could stay this simple
No one’s ever burned you
Nothing’s ever left you scarred
And even though you want to, just try to never grow up

Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room
Memorize what is sounded like when your dad gets home
Remember the footsteps, remember the words said
And all your little brother’s favorite songs
I just realized everything I had is someday gonna be gone

So here I am in my new apartment
In a big city, they just dropped me off
It’s so much colder than I thought it would be
So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on

Wish I’d never grown up
I wish I’d never grown up
Oh I don’t wanna grow up
Wish I’d never grown up
Could still be little
Oh I don’t wanna grow up
It could still be simple

(Chorus:)
Oh darling don’t you ever grow up, don’t you ever grow up
Just stay this little
Oh darling don’t you ever grow up, don’t you ever grow up
It could stay this simple
Won’t let nobody hurt you
Won’t let no one break your heart
And even though you want to, please try to never grow up
Don’t you ever grow up
Just never grow up

Leaps and Bounds

The seasons have always played a big part in reminding me of major life events. For example, every mid-May when the crab apple trees are in full bloom and the grass and sky are in Technicolor, I vividly remember my wedding day. Everything was just so vibrant that day.

You know how it is when your senses combine to create memories? It’s the way something looks, how something smells, and something you hear that makes you think, “I remember this.”

Now that we’re getting into November and the days are getting shorter and it’s cold and dark out, I’m remembering this time last year. It dawned on me that last year at this time Monkey’s room was still our spare room. Our spare room with the double bed and the emerald green carpeting, and closets stuffed with all of our extra crap — the wrapping paper, my yearbooks (which I STILL cannot find by the way, and it is DRIVING me crazy!), my extra shoes and bridesmaid dresses.

 

Monkey, helping us remodel her new "big girl" room.

 

It was a weird feeling to remember how short a time ago that we were still preparing for Bean’s arrival. It feels like Bean’s room has always been her room. I barely remember it not being her room or a time when she wasn’t in our lives. I barely remember a time when Monkey wasn’t in her “new” room with the new beige carpeting, pink and yellow walls, and butterfly curtains. Yet, just one short year ago, we were picking out paint colors and buying accessories and wall art. And Bean wasn’t here yet.

Monkey moved into her new room on November 12, 2009 — one day after we finished installing the carpet and after she fell out of her crib. Waking her up every two hours to check for signs of a concussion was more than a little tiresome. We were planning to move her right after Thanksgiving anyway, but since she took the flying leap out of her crib, she made the transition to her “big girl bed” a little earlier than expected. I can’t believe it’s been a year, and I also can’t believe it’s only been a year.

It’s funny, because right after Bean was born I remember how weird it felt to be checking on two kids before I came to bed instead of just one. And now Bean is nine months old. Today, in fact. The same amount of time that she spent in my belly.

It’s remarkable, really. The transformation babies go through in such a short amount of time. They grow into a perfectly developed person in nine short months, and then they become an almost entirely new person in another nine months. And she’s just so BIG already. So grown up. I absolutely adore babies at this age because they are so fun and engaging with their little personalities bursting out, and they seem to learn five new things every day. But, but. But part of me is longing to have my cuddly baby back. How did that go so fast?

 

Bean, 2 months old.

 

Now the idea of Bean cuddling with us is comical. She’s too busy moving. The only time she lays her head on my chest is if we meet someone new and she’s a little shy. And even those instances have come few and far between lately.

Part of me is wishing that I could have one more day with the baby who always fell asleep while doing … well, almost anything.

You know Bean is my sleeper. But when she was first born she was like a SUPER sleeper. As if sleeping was a competition and she was going to win, d@mn it. She’s so much like her father in that way. I used to tell people that I could count to 10 and Husband would be asleep, until one time I did it AND I ONLY GOT TO SEVEN.

Bean also has inherited her father’s uncanny ability to fall asleep nearly anywhere, in any position. Once, Husband fell asleep, sitting on the couch, WHILE EATING A BOWL OF ICE CREAM. I mean come on now, really? Seriously? Who falls asleep eating ice cream!? Oh, I’m sorry, the cool, creamy deliciousness of the ice cream isn’t enough to keep you awake??

Bean used to randomly fall asleep while we were holding her — like after swimming at our neighbor’s pool while we were chatting on the deck — she just laid her head down on Husband and took a little siesta. The same thing happened one time when we were Skyping with my brother and almost-sister-in-law. Or there was the time when Husband was holding her on his knee and slightly bouncing her. The rhythm was enough to BAM, put her to sleep. She even fell asleep in her high chair once. Ca-ra-zy.

 

Bean, 6.5 months old.

 

Bean also used to fight waking up. We would poke and prod her and she would cry with her eyes still scrunched up tight, like “I am NOT opening my eyes!” I would hold her upright between my legs and as soon as I stopped prodding, her head would slump to the side and she would fall back to sleep. Or, I’d wake her up and then stand up with her on my shoulder and within minutes she’d be snoozing again.

While Bean isn’t quite this sleepy anymore, she still displays remarkable ease in putting herself to sleep. Sometimes when we put her to bed at night we’ll hear her in her crib “talk, talk, talk, talk, SILENCE.” Just like that. SO unlike her older sister.

I’ll always remember one of the last days I spent with Bean at home before I started working again. Monkey was at her Nana’s house so I could spend time with Bean alone. And I decided that I was going to hold her while she was sleeping — all day. Since she was always so content to be laid down to sleep, I felt like we both were kind of missing out on her being held. So I held her. All day. I watched movies and she slept in my arms. It was awesome. I didn’t attempt to get anything else done that day. I just sat in a chair and held my baby on my chest.

Some days I feel like a time traveler because it’s inconceivable that this is all going so fast. Mostly I feel grateful because I think I’m doing a good job of appreciating each day.

I know that these next few months are going to be like reliving the time leading up to the day of Bean’s birth in February. And also remembering her first few weeks with us at home. Cold, dark, overcast days, snowstorms, fires in the fireplace, lots of snuggly fleece outfits and hunkering down for playtime in the house.

 

Bean, 4 weeks old.

 

I can’t believe I’m already mentally planning her birthday party. I can’t believe it’s gone so fast.

Type A

So last week in my typical Type A personality, I was perseverating on what Bean’s personality is like. I once had a supervisor use that word with me in a performance review. He said I had a tendency to perseverate on things when it wasn’t necessary and that I needed to learn to move on. Basically, he was telling me in a really nice, fancy-word way that there were things that I could not control, I was not always going to get my way, and that I needed to stop being so godd@amned stubborn.

I probably was trying to convince him of something. My cousin once told me that I could convince her to do anything. That I could convince her to eat dirt. This was after I convinced her to try this breath mint after she kept telling me how much she hates breath mints. Like, really hates them. I swore it was “different,” and listed off a million reasons why. It wasn’t. At least not to her. In my defense, I really thought she would like it. I don’t know if I’m really that good of “convincing” people to do things as I am at being persistent (you may remember the ham sandwich incident when I was a kid). Or, persistently annoying maybe? I also had a co-worker tell me that I missed my calling and should have been a lawyer. Hmm. I think public relations suits me well. I have a heart. A big one. And lawyering is too cutthroat for me.

On a related note, I was over at my parents’ house several months ago and came across an old sixth grade report card. In the notes section, my teacher had commented something along the lines of “has tendency to argue and exhibit stubborn behavior.” In sixth grade. Who knew? The die was cast. Obviously, both my sixth grade teacher and my co-worker were right about me. I just think it’s ironic that the same themes have been coming up in my performance reviews since I was a kid.

Which brings me back to my original point — figuring out what kind of kid Bean is! I know, you probably think I’m ridiculous, or that I am spending way too much time analyzing this. And while I was half-joking that I wanted to know so that I could just KNOW, and be more “in control,” I also really meant it when I said that I felt like I could better attend to her needs if I better understood where she was coming from. In work, I’ve always said that I can deal with almost any personality type. If I can figure you out, I can work with you. It’s the ambiguous people that I have a hard time with. When I don’t know what’s going on in someone’s head, that’s when I struggle.

With Monkey, it’s kind of easy to know the best approach to take because she’s so much like me. I just think about what I would want. But Bean is different and I’m trying to figure her out!

I came across this Parenting.com article about the nine distinct traits that make up a baby’s nature. At the end of the article it said:

“Almost all temperamental traits can be positives when you learn to work with your child’s particular constellation. That’s what’s known as goodness of fit: the ability to accept your child and help him adapt. In the end, it’s your perceptions and reactions to his traits and behavior that will go a long way toward shaping your baby into a happy, well-adjusted child — which in turn will bring you more satisfaction.”

Exactly! The reason I’m feeling a need to know is so that I can achieve my goodness of fit and learn the best ways to work with my baby.

SEE! I’M NOT CRAZY AND OBSSESSED WITH CONTROL.

Or maybe you all thought it was normal that I was wondering this and not crazy at all, and now it seems a little weird that I’m trying to convince you that I’m not crazy and you’re starting to think I am crazy.

Aaaanyway.

In my Googling frenzy I found some online baby personality quizzes that I thought I’d pass along in case any of you are also not crazy like me, and simply just wondering, for the sake of better attending to your baby’s needs, what their personality is like. Or maybe you already know what your baby’s personality is like and want to confirm what a genius, well-attuned mother you are. Either one.

I’ll warn you — these quizzes are obviously highly subjective. I mean, how on earth can you answer this for a nine-month-old:

“When your baby is going to play with a sibling or a friend:”

1. He’ll only play with what he wants to play
2. He’s willing to compromise

Huh? She’s a BABY. Yes, I definitely would interpret that series of  grunts and mouth-clicking noises as her willingness to compromise.

Also, sometimes none of the multiple choice answers were accurately describing Bean, so I had to just pick the closest one.

But, I did find some interesting results.

In the Babyzone.com survey, Bean was characterized as an “Active Adventurer: active, curious and into everything, this baby is a force to be reckoned with.” Yep. ‘Bout sums it up.

The Parents.com quiz said that I have a “Type A” baby. Seriously, what are the other personality types?? (Okay, I guess it’s just called Type B. How lame and obvious. This Wikipedia entry doesn’t paint a very flattering picture of a “Type A.”)

I’m a Type A and so is Monkey, so I guess it’s no surprise that Bean is too. This category is described as “intense, persistent, stubborn and competitive.” I would say that she’s persistent and stubborn. Competitive? I don’t know, she doesn’t like to give up her toys, but how can you really identify competitiveness at this age?

The Yourbabytoday.com quiz said that Bean is “expressive and energetic without being intense.” I would agree with that. She “is happiest with a predictable routine.” Yes, definitely. And “Enjoys physical activity, but also quieter moments.” Her initial response is “slow to accept new situations and tends to avoid the unfamiliar,” but she is “fairly adaptable to new situations in the long-term.” I would definitely agree to that. While Monkey tends to be a social butterfly, Bean will hang close and then eventually warm up.

And again, I thought the Parenting.com article had some really interesting insights without being a quiz. The nine distinct personality traits that make up a baby’s nature are:

• Activity level
• Regularity
• Sociability
• Adaptability
• Intensity
• Disposition
• Distractibility
• Persistence
• Sensitivity

Obviously her activity level is off the charts and she thrives on having a routine. She’s pretty serious and shy in new social situations and takes awhile to warm up to new people and places. She’s more adaptable over the long term and she can be intense at times. One thing that struck me about intensity: “Life may seem easier with a less intense baby, but you have to work harder to understand what she’s thinking.” Um, yeah! With Monkey I never had to guess. When she was happy, she was HAPPY. When she was mad, she was MAD! With Bean, it’s not always as obvious.

I also loved this about the “distractibility” trait — “It’s a cinch to keep an easily distracted baby out of trouble or avert temper tantrums. Simply steer her away from the light socket and she’ll forget about it. But keep in mind that things may distract her in a negative way ­— a noisy room may disrupt her feedings. If she’s more focused, she may not notice, for example, a lawn mower when she’s settling down for a nap.”

Yes, again! This totally describes the difference between Monkey and Bean. Monkey is MUCH more easily “distracted” which has always worked to my advantage with her intense personality. I can easily move her on to the next activity to avoid temper tantrums. Whereas Bean is more focused. Which may explain why she is so “focused” on climbing up my leg! She knows what she wants and she is so persistent! I think Monkey is fairly persistent, but now that she’s older she’s more likely to huff and shriek when she can’t accomplish something, whereas Bean will just keep doggedly trying.

So what’s the bottom line? I think she’s somewhere in the middle of “spirited” and “laid back.” She’s not as intense as her sister, but she’s no shrinking violet either. And her most obvious characteristic is how physical she is. Is she really a “Type A?” Meh. There are degrees of Type A. I’m not really sure yet. But I do know it will interesting to watch it all unfold.

I’m curious to know if you took any of these quizzes for your kids and whether you think the results are accurate.