3/20/11

Bad Momma


The other day I was working on some financial stuff when I looked up to find Nora on her stomach victoriously clenching Rosie's disgusting stuffed soccer ball in both hands. This is one of Rosie's most repulsive toys – it's crusted in dog slobber, the stuffing is slowly being ripped out of about three different holes, and it's been dragged outside, downstairs, upstairs and all through all manner of dirt. I suspect Nora may have had it in her mouth two seconds earlier.


Nora's seven months old now, and she's become pretty mobile. She can't crawl forward yet, but she does a kind of rolling/pivoting/backwards crawling hybrid that manages to get her around the room, including underneath furniture and towards the dog and her gross playthings. I realize that I need to keep a much closer eye on her, even if I think there's nothing around she can get into – I can always be foiled by the dog. It was one more incident that made me give myself a sidelong glance and ask "am I a good momma?"


I know that I am good at a bunch of things that make me a good momma: I give Nora a lot of love. I hold her. I respond to her cries at night – not so quickly that she learns to yank my chain, but quickly enough that she doesn't feel alone. I have thereby managed to get her to sleep from 9 p.m. through to 6:30 a.m. or so. I play with her and talk to her constantly. I am happy to let her roll around on the floor by herself but I step in if she's struggling too hard or falls over – I'm never too far away. Hopefully she knows all of this.


But there are a few things that I need to improve upon. They include:


- I let the dog babysit. I know they say "never leave a baby alone with a dog under any circumstances" but this is Rosie we're talking about. Most of the time she lays on the couch sleepily observing Nora at play, and once in a while she'll come close and lie beside her sort of protectively. The most she's ever done is lick Nora on the face. Nora, on the other hand, is intent on harassing the dog – she screams at her, grabs her paws (the other day I walked in and she had the pad of Rosie's paw in her mouth – they were being watched by their father at that particular moment), pulls chunks of her fur, grabbles at her ears, sticks her wee fingers into her gums and nostrils and other atrocities. She genuinely loves Rosie, and I think Rosie knows it, because the most she ever does is move away or give me a pleading look. I wouldn't ever leave the house or even have a shower with Nora under Rosie's supervision, but I am relatively comfortable leaving the room for a few minutes.


- I am too eager to introduce new foods. Last week, poor Nora had an all-over body rash, probably attributable to the peaches I fed her for the first time two days before. However, when I called the public health line, I admittedly was unable to narrow it down to which new food it could be, because in the past three days I'd given her peaches, blueberries, garlic (to jazz up some boring green beans) and a little bit of my oatmeal (laced with a bit of milk) for the first time. I didn't fess up to the garlic or the oatmeal (who's allergic to oatmeal? Ok milk maybe…), and the nurse said it's unlikely to be the blueberries, so I blame the peaches. Really, I blame myself. I am too excited to feed her new things – I need to reign it in a bit until she's at least 8 months or so. And then hoooo baby watch out. Thai food here we come.


-Nora has received a rather varied musical education, including rap, rock, etc. etc. I had great intentions of playing classical music for her, but the house is gloomy during the day while we're here alone, and I feel like we are a couple of girls who need dance parties. She really does prefer Bob Marley and Lady Gaga, I swear.


-Nora knows the theme music for the Ellen DeGeneres Show, and cranes her head around to the television whenever she hears it. I feel horrible about this but after a long day of singing the itsy-bitsy spider and propping her up so she can play with her toys, and feeding her endlessly, by 6 p.m. we need some outside entertainment. Ellen is family-friendly. I try to read her books during the show but all she wants to do is smack them and rip the pages out, so for now anyway, television it is.


-I let her take naps in my arms. Bad practice, I know. For all my bragging about her night-time sleep, I am horrible at regimenting her daytime sleep. She falls asleep in my arms while I'm feeding her and I have a tendency to just leave her there, because as soon as I put her down in a bed she wakes up and stays up. I use the time to read books or send emails, quietly typing with one hand. I recognize that I have to get her to sleep in a bed for her naps, I do, it's just tempting to snuggle her warm little body while she's not squirming and wrenching herself away from me.


- I put her to sleep with a quilt in her bed. I know I know, but it's tucked tightly at the bottom of the crib and she can't get it loose. If she ever squirms down far enough for it to be a problem, she'll encounter the end of the crib before her head is covered, and it's stiff enough that it will form a little cave with a decent opening. Amazingly though, she squirms upwards every night, so that in the mornings I find her way above her quilt, on her stomach, in her sleep-sack. I added the quilt because there's no heat in our room, and she was waking up a bit chilly. I used to swaddle her but that stopped working around 4 ½ months, so now she has a tight quilt and a light sleep-sack. I also used to worry about her sleeping on her stomach but she flips herself over and seems to be good at it, and also seems most restful that way, so I let her be and I just wake up every 20 minutes from 5 a.m. onward to check on her breathing. Ha ha.


There are other things: I never remember to use a bib so most of her shirts are stained with sweet potato or squash, I stick her in her exersaucer for short periods so I can do housework (even though I swore up and down I'd never have an exersaucer in my house), I let her drink my club soda a couple of times because the resulting face she pulled was hilarious, yet she actually seemed to like it, the little weirdo. I still swear quite a lot. We have taught her to stick out her tongue, blow raspberries and shake her head but she to date can't get the hang of waving hello or goodbye. She kind of waves randomly throughout the day. I don't allow her to explore/play with her food, even though some say it helps them learn to eat. Blech. I rarely put mittens on her because she hates them so much – I prefer to just bundle her up with blankets and hope that the hands stay in there. Once, I forgot to buckle up her car seat (I was horrified to tears when I discovered it, trust me). She has been scratched by the cat – once; the cat was justifiably punished and now avoids the baby. The other day I was standing her up against something and in a moment of distraction, her legs buckled and her head hit the floor ever so slightly, and (drumroll) I let her stay up until 9 or 10 p.m. every night, just because she's fun. Oh my god I'm a monster. Please do not call Child Protective Services on me.


All this being said, she's our kid, the product of the two of us, and we are raising her to be part of our family. Truth be told, we are the kinds of people who eat a lot of different things, watch t.v., swear occasionally (especially her father – hi Mr. Gennyland!), stay up late, have dance parties from time to time, think it's funny to blow raspberries, and have a dog that's a complete undisciplined pain in the butt, but sweet and trustworthy. I make it sound like I am negligent and cavalier about these things but in reality, I am not. I am constantly aware that at all times I am likely screwing something up. However, she remains the sun around which I revolve. We have tiny adventures every day and I believe these are good for her – she will hopefully have a great sense of humour, be confident in the knowledge that we are here for her and love her, be comfortable with and kind to animals, appreciate all kinds of music, and have a well-developed palate. Hopefully she will be the type of kid to roll with the punches. And hopefully I will be the kind of momma to roll with the punches too.

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