my dilemma

For posterity, and to embarrass Maddie in later childhood: These are the things (in no particular order) that Maddie could say around age two.  She’s learning words every day, so I’m sure there are words she knows that are not on this list.

And these are the things that she understands, but doesn’t like to say:

With a new baby on the way, we have to make room.  And this meant moving Maddie into her own big-girl’s room. And the big-girl’s room was going to need furniture.  I had my mother’s old chest of drawers out in the garage holding some stuff that we’d never need. It was time to see if I could refurbish it and use it in Maddie’s new room.

Originally, the dresser had a fine faux dark natural wood finish.  But it’s over 35 years old, and that finish was showing its age.  Actually, I didn’t even know the “grain” was fake until I sanded it off.  I got under the fake grain and found some decent panelling.  But this dresser was going into a bland room, and we wanted something that would add some color.

It took some thought, but we decided on light green.  I mocked up a doodle of the dresser in Paint Shop Pro, added some flowers, and we decided that that’s the way it should look.

 

The refurbishing of the dresser took me a month with only one session per week during that month, so that’s about 4 sessions.  Basically, it was sanding, priming, painting, and painting a second coat.  The dresser is a little rickety due to its old age, but we hope it’ll last us a few more years.

According to Chinese tradition, once a baby reaches one month of age, that baby and mother have recovered from the birthing process enough to be presented to the world.  A party is held in honor of the baby, a Red Egg and Ginger party.  I have an invitation to a Red Egg and Ginger party that describes it as follows

In China of old, it was customary for mother and child to be homebound for a full month.  This is the time for both to gain strength and health.  After this critical period is over, the occasion of this blessed event can then be celebrated.

The red egg symbolizes good luck and the ginger (yang) serves a dual purpose (to ward off evil spirits and to equalize the cold (yin) of the new mother).

The traditional diet of the new mother is chicken whiskey soup and pickled pigs feet.  Both dishes are nutritious and have medicinal value because they provide a source of protein and calcium, act as a purifier and blood thinner, and also rid the body of cold air in the system.

My wife’s mother honors this tradition, and kicks it up a notch.  After Lillian gave birth to Maddie, Lillian was indeed homebound for a month.  Lillian’s mother stayed with us off and on to help out with the new baby, and to ensure tradition was followed.

She made sure to combat the cold yin with everything she had.  Lillian wasn’t allowed to have any cold liquids.  Any water she drank had to have been boiled and had to still be hot.  (Lillian’s mom asked me to bring some boiled water directly to her in the hospital right after Maddie was born.)  Cold water wasn’t allowed near Lillian, for that matter.  Lillian wasn’t allowed to bathe or to wash her hair.  (Wet hair gets cold before it dries completely.)  Imagine giving birth, and not being allowed to bathe for a month.

Then Lillian’s mom made sure that Lillian ate enough of the chicken whiskey soup.  (Which we call, “Alcohol Soup” because Lillian’s mom doesn’t cook away much of the whiskey.)  To complement the chicken whiskey soup, Lillian also had to drink vinegar soup, which was mostly vinegar and eggs, and maybe some meat.

Lillian had to have a couple of bowls of soup every day.  She wasn’t allowed to have any fruit.  Maybe there’s something yinny about fruit too, I don’t know.  She was allowed to have some vegetables, but just a minimum.  I actually don’t remember Lillian having to have much pickled pigs feet.  Which is fine by me.

My family has this weekly tradition.  We go out to our local Noah’s Bagels for lunch.  As Maddie’s grown older, she’s able to share grown-up food with us.  So we’ve been cutting off slices of the dog-part of my bagel dog, and feeding them to her.  Nowadays, she pretty much eats the whole wiener, leaving nothing but soggy bagel for me.

At home, she eats these tasty microwaveable mini corndogs.  Since I wanted my own bagel dog this week, we microwaved some corndogs, and brought them with us to Noah’s.  We offered Maddie her corndogs as I garnished my bagel dog.  But Maddie wasn’t having any of that.  She knows,

When we’re at Noah’s, Maddie gets steamy hot bagel dog wiener.

That’s the routine.  That’s the rule.

Fine, fine, fine.  I cut off slices of my bagel dog for her.  She grabs a spoon, but I correct her, and try to place a fork in her hand, so she can stab the slices and feed herself.  She wasn’t going to have any of that either.  Maddie insisted on using a spoon, and trying to stab the slices with that, as if it were a fork.  I tried to show her how to scoop up with slices with the spoon, but that wasn’t what she wanted to do!

So, Maddie’s Mom and I sit there watching our pride-and-joy ignore the food we brought for her, and trying to stab slices of my hotdog with a spoon (sometimes successfully).  I say to Maddie’s Mom with a little exasperation, “I tell you,” but then words fail me.

Without skipping a beat, she looks at me and deadpans, “It’s hard having kids?  You don’t have to tell me that.”

A few days ago, when I was changing Maddie, she went nuts.  She started wiggling furiously, and calling out something that sounded like, “dish!” or “this!” or “dhis!”

She was really trying to get at something on the counter.  She didn’t have any toys up there.  It’s where we keep the wipes, and creams, and nick nacks.  I just wanted to get her into a clean diaper.  I wasn’t particularly interested in figuring out what’s going on in her little head.  But she wasn’t letting up.

“Dhis! Dhis! Dhis!”

I just grabbed the nearest thing I remember Maddie having touched, a tube of cream.  I offered it to her, “What?  Do you what this?”

Aha!

That’s exactly what she wanted.  She grabbed the tube, settled down, and let me change her.  Apparently Maddie’s Mom and I have both been offering “this” to her.  And now she knows the cream is This.

Whoops.  What we accidentally teach our children.

Maddie’s shoes are getting a little too tight.  So at every available opportunity she tries to take them off.  First she unstraps the velcro strap, then violently kicks her little legs, flapping her little feet until the sheer whiplike force throws her shoes into the air.  It’s pretty funny if you don’t get hit by a shoe.

This weekend we took Maddie to see her grandparents.  Things went pretty well until the time came for Maddie’s Mom and me to go out for a date.  We said goodbye to the grandparents, then kissed Maddie goodbye and headed for the doorway to put on our shoes.

“Nooo!”

Maddie scampered after us, and latched onto my pants’ leg.  (Babies have incredibly strong grips.)  I gently pried her away, and she looked up at us in desperation.  Surely there must be something she can do!  She turned around looking for a corner to pout in, or… she squatted down, picked up her vile little shoes, stood up and held them high, as if to say, “I’ll wear the shoes.  Just take me with you!”

We knew how much she hates those shoes, and so it really melted our hearts to see what she would suffer just to be taken along with us.