I live in a quaint old house with four chimneys and not a single fire place, not so much as an empty hearth. Now that I think of it, the house loses some of its quaint points for their absence but makes up for it in usable wall space. I imagine in an earlier time these chimneys opened into the rooms, but now they are just convenient openings for a sparrows nest and, until yesterday, a thriving bee hive. It is the bee hive that disrupted the roofers as they tore off the very old tin roof and provoked the owners of our house into action to find a new home for said bees. In the removal of the bees I realized very quickly why this task had been delayed for so very long. The hive was, happily, removed successfully, however, in order to remove to the hive they eventually decided to cut a hole into the chimney. I don't know if this was to get to the honey (quite a bit) or to a reluctant queen. The hive is off to the promise of a better home that they won't have to share with a human family. Today, there is still a gaping hole which I am sure will be patched at some point. Also left behind are the confused stragglers fussing around the house, at the chimney, at the front door, trying to figure out where they went wrong.
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Before I had a child, I was an amazing parent. Healthy diet, play, regular sleep schedule, limited technology. Once I had a child my parenting went downhill. Small things. For example, when I did not get enough sleep, I was irritable. The lack of sleep lasted about six years, the irritability turned into an ingrained habit. Here are some that are particularly poignant so far in my parenting journey.
Determined that my child would have a healthy diet, I made her food and froze it in ice cube trays. This was easy to transfer into a container before I dropped her off at daycare. These were heady days of parenting success and may have lasted six months. It’s easy to make excuses. The early years were fraught with allergies that initially included milk, nuts, and eggs. Marshmallows and Oreo cookies crept into the diet. Yup, Oreos do not contain any milk or eggs. Then when day care provided lunches it heralded in the world of chicken nuggets and french fries. When we visited my brother in LA when she was two, I think nuggets may have been the only food we fed her that week. Vegetables did not regularly appear in a significant way for at least ten years. Who wants to fight the vegetable fight anyway? Fry, anyone? If I failed on the food front, I knew I could redeem myself on the music front. I play piano and sang in choirs through high school and college. It was part of me. When I was younger, I shared a bedroom with my three siblings. My mother had a large repertoire of songs that she sang to us. Or I suppose she sang to me. I remember her singing to my little brother when he was a baby and we were supposed to be asleep. I assume they had been my lullabies before the younger siblings showed up. At least I had this legacy to pass onto my daughter. When the time came, I could not remember any of the words. We settled on one lullaby sung over and over again. Even though I repeatedly remind myself that parenting is not a competition, I'll admit to some conceit that my daughter showed little interest in the television. Then she discovered Clifford, Dora the Explorer, and Caillou. All annoying and whose appeal fortunately eventually comes to an end. No Muppets, Sesame Street, or Mr. Rogers reruns. Simply a lot of "I'm the Map". Honestly, pretty much anything animated would do. This meant that when she woke up with night frights, I found that I could calm her rocking in front of the TV. Too tired at three in the morning to put in a DVD, I would turn on Cartoon Network, turn down the volume, and get ready for Adult Swim. It worked like a charm every time. Luckily our children are not raised in isolation without any outside influences. When my daughter entered kindergarten the teacher complemented me on the fact that I read at home. Apparently, my child had good early literacy skills. I did not tell her teacher that I went days without reading at home. I found so many of the books intended for children frightfully boring. Also, by the time I got home from work, figured out dinner, bath time, and bed time, I may or may not have had the patience for a book or two. Mostly not. I guess they read books at daycare. None of this did I confess to the teacher. I smiled what I hope was a humble and gracious smile. Currently on the brink of parenting through the teenage years, I am back to where this journey began, full of smug confidence. I’m going to be brilliant! As long as there are no sleepless nights that is. |
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