Observing the World At Six

One of the most amazing and more subtle elements of parenting is watching your child understand the world in a deeper, wider and more abstract way.

Raphaela and I had a conversation about Oscar the Grouch, from Sesame Street.  She asked me how he can walk if he is stuck in a garbage can, and where does he keep all his things.  And most important, how does Oscar go to the bathroom?

I explained that Oscar the Grouch's garbage can utilizes Time Lord technology, IE that it is "bigger on the inside." Just like the Doctor has bedrooms and a swimming pool in his TARDIS, Oscar has all the room he needs in his garbage pail home.  The explanation sat perfectly with Raphaela.

Later that day, we were reading the children's classic, "Go Dog Go," a work of literature that talks about Geopolitics, diversity and Dating Protocol underneath its simple exterior.  Raphaela asked me why the girl dog always seems to be angry at the boy dog, after he says, "I do not like that hat...Goodbye!"

Raphaela observed, "I mean, it's just a hat. Who cares if he doesn't like it?"

I explained that when the girl dog asks the boy dog if he likes her hat, what she is really asking is, "Do you like me?" And when the boy dog says he does not like the hat, but then takes a souvenir from said hat, the girl dog gets angry because the boy dog does not have enough courage to say he likes her.  And it doesn't seem to matter if these dogs meet on the street, at the ski Chalet, or at the Big Dog Party.

I also take the opportunity to point out that it is OK and in fact laudable that the girl dog takes the initiative in talking to (and asking out) the boy dog.

Of course at the end of the book, at the Big Dog Party, the girl dog is wearing the most fancy and beautiful and tempting hat the boy dog has ever seen.  Then the boy dog can say with gusto, "Oh yes, I do like that hat. I like that party hat."

When Raphaela asked me why the girl dog got into the boy dog's car and they drove away together after his enthusiastic response, I told her they were having a "hmm...play date." 

It's a little early for the sex talk, I think.

New Kid on the Block

My parents sent Raphaela a Tickle Me Elmo doll, it has delighted Raphaela no end, and Elmo has become another child in the house.  Elmo gets tucked in, needs a pacifier or wants Cheerios for breakfast; and it took much convincing this morning that Elmo does not have to go Gan with her.

"But he talks, Mommy!"  The logic of the argument almost had me persuaded.

Eureka!

In spending time with Raphaela this weekend, I realized something spectacular:  She prefers to wear diapers not merely because they are absorbent, but mostly because they feature  pictures of Elmo and his Sesame Street friends.  She aske me to change her diaper several times today when she was totally clean, because she wanted a new character on her tush.

I must find underwear that she loves and wants to wear, and I think it will significantly speed up our toilet training plans.

The People in Your Neighborhood

(With a nod to the Sesame Street Song)

Ever since Hurricane Katarina (in the United States), I have been feeding street cats in my backyard here in Jerusalem.  Now that Raphaela is old enough to walk with me, she helps me in the charity of sorts;  I feel it is important for her to learn the value of kindness to all those around us, including those cats who are less fortunate to have a warm dry home in the Winter, like our Harry.

When you take the same route every day, you get to know people by their faces, you exchange "Hellos" without ever knowing their names, but they become part of your extended circle of friends.  This morning I passed a particular elderly man, who has exchanged morning greetings with me for years, way before I was even considering becoming a JSMBC.

Today he asked me "How is your beautiful daughter?"  To which I answered, "Pthoo pthoo, doing well.  Healthy and happy."  And the man responded, "Beautiful, just like her mother."

Which I of course appreciated, since I have been feeling particularly lousy and unattractive the past few days, with a cold of sorts and a sore throat slowly encroaching.  Truly, though I am not one to officially pray every day, every morning that we are both healthy and loving each other, I thank G-d for our blessings and our simple yet full life.

Shabbat Shalom!

Report from the Gan Meeting

Last night I attended the meeting of the parents of Gan Yarok, for the year 2011-2012.  It felt good to not be the "newbie" (or in Rocky Horror Picture Show, the "virgin").

1.  One of the new moms clearly had an issue with ADHD.  I say that not as a snarky parent but as a doctor. She had no impulse control, was interrupting others when they spoke, and could not sit still for more than several minutes.  I don't judge her, in fact I can't imagine how she lives that way.  What does, however, concern me that ADHD, a chemical imbalance, most likely has been passed on to some degree to her daughter, and I wouldn't want the staff to be so busy keeping this one child in line that they neglect the other children in the group.

2.  Two of the nursery teachers from last year returned, and two of them are new.  One of the new teachers rubbed many of the parents the wrong way.  She sat through the entire meeting with her arms crossed, barely smiling, like she did not want to be there, and the one time she did address the group she sounded unintelligent and shallow; more like a woman who would sit and gossip with her friends, than a woman I am trusting to take care of Raphaela.  I hope that the head nursery teacher made a wise choice with this particular person, and I am certainly willing to give her a chance, but will have no hesitation speaking up if I feel Raphaela is suffering because of a lousy personell choice.

3.  There was massive birthday panic among the group, because at least three of the children have birthdays right when Gan starts, this Wednesday-Thursday- Friday.  Raphaela's English birthday falls out this year between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, and I am hoping to arrange her party before the big Succot vacation.

4.  At one point, the head nursery teacher restated her objection to gift-giving as a form of bribery.  She then went on to praise various parents who last year organized group gifts on Purim and at the end of the year, and on the occasion of the marriage of one of the nursery teachers.  Several other women got credit for the projects I organized, and then one of those women was asked to become head of the parents committee, based upon her dedication and hard work.  I am not one generally who wants the public pat on the head, but my contribution was completely ignored, and it pissed me off.

And to wrap up, we have a new vocabulary word in our house:  ELMO.  Oh sad sad day.

Aversion Therapy

Back when they started the illegal construction beneath me, almost two years ago, Raphaela was a baby and became traumatized by the drilling and vibration and noise.  I thought she had gotten over it until this morning, when the city was trimming the trees on the path near our house, and Raphaela literally flung herself into my arms, crying and shaking.

I thought it would be wise to show her the buzz saw, and stand there and watch them trim a few bushes, so she could see that she was safe, and put the fear into perspective.  Raphaela was able to stand there after a while without panic, and we went home.

Of course later she again became hysterical, and I had to calm her by explaining that the sound and the tool were not dangerous, and that I would always protect her.  I think I need to add treatments for my daughter's PTSD to the law suit against the landlord.

Our baby sitter also did a fantastic job of distracting Raphaela and taking her to the park during the height of the noise.  The sitter, a 17 year old from a large family, has truly impressed me this last week with her confidence and maturity.  She has also made me laugh:  we were all listening to a Sesame Street CD yesterday and the sitter said, "I grew up with Sesame Street!"  To which I replied, "Honey, I grew up with Sesame Street before there was Elmo.  The program started when I was one year old."

Who's the Boss

After this week, I am feeling like somewhat of a failure as a parent.

One morning, I promised Raphaela that she could see some Sesame Street youtube.com videos, and when my computer would not comply, I allowed her to watch a little bit of a television instead. I have sworn that I would never use the television as a baby sitter.

Savta Shira and I had a long conversation about the lack of formality that I have adopted around Raphaela's meal times.  She urged me to set up a "proper meal atmosphere," even if it is just the two of us sitting together and eating yogurts or cereal.  She is right of course, but I must be honest;  in the morning, that ten minutes when Raphaela eats her breakfast is the only time I have to shower and get ready for work.

I took Raphaela to the our pediatrician this morning, as a post-op visit and to ask her advice regarding Raphaela's walking.  My daughter knows how to walk, she no longer has the limitations of shortness of breath, and yet she mostly prefers crawling still, for convenience and speed.  Our doctor agreed that it was a confidence issue and not a developmental delay, but pointed out that it is clear from the little she was able to observe while in the clinic, that Raphaela rules the house.  Why should Raphaela walk when I will carry her, or when I will immediately offer her a hand to hold while walking? For all of Raphaela's independence and spirit, my relaxed parenting and eagerness is impeding her potential, and that is the last thing I want.

And apparently I bought Raphaela the wrong summer shoes, and according to the doctor, I "should know better," presumably as a Chiropractor.

Raphaela was not talkative at the pediatrician, which also caused concern regarding bilingual language confusion; trilingual if you count her very elaborate mystery language.  It is not enough that Raphaela has the inherent understanding of sentence structure, her reliance upon body language and Hebrew /English /Gibberish may create problems.  This is also apparently my fault, if I do not strictly adhere to English in the house, Hebrew at Gan.

Truth be told, I have often felt envious of the parents of Raphaela's Israeli (uni-lingual) class mates, whose children seem to have a more highly developed talent for conversation.

I did get points, however, for our bedtime and night time routine, and for the fact that Raphaela is clearly a comfortable, opinionated and joyous little girl.

Not even two years old, am I ruining my child?