Parenting Henri

this is about henri, and the parenting thereof

the witching hour 2009/09/30

it’s true. the witching hour actually exists.  today, henri was A-dorable from the time i got home around 2 or so, until around 5-ish, at which point he started “thrashing” himself on to the floor, Jack Black style, while simultaneously jumping in and out of his turned-upside-down (kid) armchair, until he hit his head on the corner of the coffee table.  he started crying, but then realized it would be more comforting just to lie on the floor, face-down, and play dead.

OMG. i have never witnessed such a transformation.  sure, he’s hungry, tired, bored…blah blah blah.  i get it.  so that means he goes insane?  becomes a rock star? practically slices his left ear off?  aren’t there easier ways to get attention…?

emo henri

emo henri

call me crazy. but i’m a fan of words, and using them.  how old does he have to be before he can understand the phrase, “MOM. PAY ATTENTION TO ME. NOW.”  the kid knows what a compost is. he’s recognizes about ten letters and the numbers 4 and 2.  i think he can learn to say “yo, i need some lovin’ biyatches.”

wait.  is this some sort of genetic malfunctioning i’ve passed down? the inability to ask for help (or anything else) when you need it…?  uh-oh. get the baby meds. let’s stop this “nervous breakdown” before it happens…

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hiding in the fort 2009/09/13

i have been thinking a lot lately about if i’m A) not as good of a mom as henri needs, B) a good mom but not as good of a mom as i wish i could be, or C) just a really lame mom.  the scary thing is that i’m not sure much, if any, of this (really) has to do with my “depression.”  i think that maybe there are just things about being a mom that i’m not good at: like playing trucks & cars for 8 hours straight, or playing anything for 8 hours straight.  i’m not a big “play” person.  but i want to be, if that’s what henri needs me to be.  where’s the balance supposed to be in that conundrum?

admittedly, there are things i’m super-good at when it comes to momming the h-man that previous skeptics (and by skeptics, i mean me) are probably really surprised about.  like how i’m pretty damn compassionate.  even though it’s funny as hell when henri falls down–hard to explain, he just gets hurt in funny/odd ways–i’m still really good at “kissing his boo-boo” and making sure he’s alright, prior to my laughing at with him.   well, that’s all i can think of right now. but i know there are other ways in which i’m better than i thought i would be that i *can’t* think of right now, mainly because i’m Hiding. In a Fort. in more ways than one.

what i’m trying to say is: i have fun with henri.  i’ve had loads of fun with henri. there are lots of zaftig memories in my mind.  we have fun together.  but…  i still have mommy-guilt.  i confess–to no one’s surprise, i’m sure: i don’t know where the grey is. i’m willing to bet that i couldn’t find the grey if it came up and tapped me on the shoulder and said, “hey there, i’m the grey part of being a mom.”

i’ve been told i have high expectations.  so, is that what this is? i’ve also been told that i deliberately put high expectations on people so that they will fail me and i can wallow in the disappointment that brings.  i guess, if that’s the case–which i’m not totally convinced of–then i could put the same amount of unrealistically high expectations on myself, fail, and be happy that the world is still round and i’m still a failure.  but that seems highly unlikely.  what kind of fucked up person would do that?

 

it’s never too early to start planning a party 2009/09/01

as if i don’t have enough things to do, i’ve been staying up late at night planning what will, i hope, be the 3rd best party ever.  (wait–4th, if you count my 30th b-day bar crawl.  and i {kind of} do.)  first, there was the greatest baby shower of all (!) and, then, the 1st birthday party of all 1st birthday parties (theme? Henri!) and, now, there will be an alphabetilicious party, better than your most committed abecederian could plan.

okay. having looked that up. that word does NOT mean what i thought it meant. and it definitely doesn’t mean what most people today think it means, otherwise i never would’ve heard of it.

yes, that’s right.  your ears are not fooling you.  this year’s theme will be (of course!): The Alphabet.

invite new

you're invited!

believe it or not, this isn’t actually a radical idea for a toddler’s birthday party.  i’ve already found cake designs, meal plans, pre-school appropriate activities, AND about a billion color sheets.  um, no.  we will *not* be coloring.  this isn’t pre-school, goddamnit.  it’s a friggin’ party, for God’s sake!!!

so, get your game on.  practice your cursive letters.  and make sure you know which smalls go with which bigs.  because in less than 3 months, a showcase of the world’s smartest 2-year-old’s alphabet knowledge will be on display.  join us.  if you dare.

p.s. i {additionally} challenge you to bring an alphabet-inspired, if not outright intellectually stimulating, gift.  handmade is A-Okay.