JieJie Makes Debut on Big-Girl Toilet; Calls Mom on Deadline With Report
MeiMei Says "Baby" and "Ball," "Meow" and "Woof! Woof!"
Ping, Au Pair from China, Gets Visa; Dumplings Promised
Daddy Dreams of Sleep
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Downward Facing Mom
MeiMei and I made our debut at a Mommy and Me class this week -- yoga. MeiMei was a little uncertain. Mommy was a bit abashed among the lithe, 30ish moms who wore the right clothes and could perform all the moves.
MeiMei was the tiniest, and probably the youngest, little yogini in the sunny room.
She didn't cry, but she seemed a little stressed, and I wondered if I was doing the right thing by bringing her to a group class. She loved it when stringy Dayglo balls came out for one stretch and red balloons for another. When I asked her to take the balloon back to the teacher for cleanup, she stepped right up.
When the moms climbed up the wall backwards, feet first, I busied myself trying to position MeiMei, who shook her head vigorously until we moved to the next pose. Neither of us tried to step sideways through the hula hoop.
She liked the music, but looked askance at the kids who let their moms roll them up in the mat and then unroll them, but she made a stab at rolling up a mat on her own and then tried to carry it across to the teacher. It was such a joy to watch her opening up that I was able to forget my own performance anxiety -- pretty much.
And when we got home, we talked to JieJie, who gleefully volunteered to show MeiMei tree pose and bridge and to climb up the wall with her feet. And when JieJie effortlessly moved into the poses, MeiMei followed, with excellent form.
I guess we'll go back next week.
MeiMei was the tiniest, and probably the youngest, little yogini in the sunny room.
She didn't cry, but she seemed a little stressed, and I wondered if I was doing the right thing by bringing her to a group class. She loved it when stringy Dayglo balls came out for one stretch and red balloons for another. When I asked her to take the balloon back to the teacher for cleanup, she stepped right up.
When the moms climbed up the wall backwards, feet first, I busied myself trying to position MeiMei, who shook her head vigorously until we moved to the next pose. Neither of us tried to step sideways through the hula hoop.
She liked the music, but looked askance at the kids who let their moms roll them up in the mat and then unroll them, but she made a stab at rolling up a mat on her own and then tried to carry it across to the teacher. It was such a joy to watch her opening up that I was able to forget my own performance anxiety -- pretty much.
And when we got home, we talked to JieJie, who gleefully volunteered to show MeiMei tree pose and bridge and to climb up the wall with her feet. And when JieJie effortlessly moved into the poses, MeiMei followed, with excellent form.
I guess we'll go back next week.
Friday, March 21, 2008
JieJie Floats the Cheerios
JieJie is a great big sophisticated girl, newly turned 5. She was brave at her dental checkup, enduring X-rays, knowing cooperation would speed her return to the playhouse (with slide) in the waiting room. On the way out, she saw a sign on a door and said, "Mommy, what's a lavatory?" -- which brings us to today's topic.
At last, and after making deals with the poopy doctor, reading affirmations to herself, and holding me tight, JieJie used the potty chair -- once a day, every day for a week. She is petrified of putting her little bottom on any of the cushy seats we bought to make the toilet seat fit her. Instead, she sits sideways on the seat of the potty, clinging to me, crying a little, holding herself rigidly, a fraction of an inch above the seat, until she pees.
She knows how to go and when to go, and thanks to the baby steps we have taken with the help of the poopy doctor, now she CAN go.
The first time, we were supposed to toss some cheerios into the big toilet and let her try to sink them. At the last second, she leapt off the toilet and we swung over to the potty chair.
"Now I can't sink the cheerios!'' she cried. "But you can float them,'' I said, having a moment of poopy doc wisdom. And she did. "Nothing bad or scary will happen to me if I pee or poop in the toilet," she says, holding the card the therapist made her.
Something bad or scary DID happen a long time ago, at least that is what the PD has deduced. We probably will never know what it was, and dwelling on the possibilities is, well, not helpful and too chilling.
What matters is, my #1 big girl is peeing in the potty and even dancing on top of the toilet. If she could overcome this fear, there are no limits to what she can do.
At last, and after making deals with the poopy doctor, reading affirmations to herself, and holding me tight, JieJie used the potty chair -- once a day, every day for a week. She is petrified of putting her little bottom on any of the cushy seats we bought to make the toilet seat fit her. Instead, she sits sideways on the seat of the potty, clinging to me, crying a little, holding herself rigidly, a fraction of an inch above the seat, until she pees.
She knows how to go and when to go, and thanks to the baby steps we have taken with the help of the poopy doctor, now she CAN go.
The first time, we were supposed to toss some cheerios into the big toilet and let her try to sink them. At the last second, she leapt off the toilet and we swung over to the potty chair.
"Now I can't sink the cheerios!'' she cried. "But you can float them,'' I said, having a moment of poopy doc wisdom. And she did. "Nothing bad or scary will happen to me if I pee or poop in the toilet," she says, holding the card the therapist made her.
Something bad or scary DID happen a long time ago, at least that is what the PD has deduced. We probably will never know what it was, and dwelling on the possibilities is, well, not helpful and too chilling.
What matters is, my #1 big girl is peeing in the potty and even dancing on top of the toilet. If she could overcome this fear, there are no limits to what she can do.
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