Mid-year mayhem

To be perfectly frank, we've hit a bit of a rough patch here, some seriously choppy water. And its been beating me up a bit. I mean, the kid and I have gotten along, quite swimmingly, for the last year or so. Of course, before that period, I'd frantically read many, many parenting books, developmental studies and blogs of familiar woe. But then we hit our stride. Our connection rarely faltered, and I could typically name the exact circumstances under which that would usually occur. It was lovely.

Then there were some hints of humility inducing trouble last month. I shrugged them off as cold induced idiocy. I was tired and obviously lacking. He was tired and obviously grumpy :) But with the spring, new challenges have blossomed. I've been wracking my brain the past week (once I finally admitted to myself that we were having a bit of a "stage" here) to format an opinion on the problem. And last night (as I lay in the dark, cuddling the Little Man to sleep, because bedtime, like everything else in our house, has turned upside down in the last two months) I finally remembered: the half birthday.

Development books typically chat about the major changes that creep up halfway through each year. And it seems that P is hitting his just a little early this year. We have watched our sweet young five year old change into a challenging (meaning he likes to challenge everything) child this spring. For the woman who has seemed to breath the truth of Gawd for the last 5 years, this has taken quite some getting used to.

In addition to being frequently wrong, I am frequently exhausted. This growth spurt has driven the child out of his high-water pants and through about a million eggs. His food intake has been uncanny (there was a month of protein, morning noon and night, hobbit like double breakfasts and second dinners), and thus my duties as chef have been quite laborious. Additionally, growing pains wake us up at night, necessitating mini massages and stamina for the ensuing insomnia.

When not eating and sleeping in order to grow, he's asking questions like never before. Asking him what he thinks only occasionally brings about satisfaction, he often wants the precise low down. With pictures, a non-fiction book, or possibly a project tied in. Unfortunately, as I earlier alluded, my answers are often incorrect. Its a fascinating stage to watch, to see him learn to dissect a point, a problem, or an explanation and fit it into his world view. Of course, he still often asks additional questions, floored by wonder, and laps it up, but the other times are new and challenging for me. I have no ego in the situation, no need to be "correct" or for him to even understand the "correct" answer. He could swear the sky was purple and I would be happy to reply, "Yup!" But he doesn't seem to want that. If he asks a question that he wants an actual answer to, I provide an answer, he challenges it and I nod my head and say "hmmm," it pisses him off. If I nod my head and say "oh!" or "I see" or even "good point," well, he's not so sure he likes that either. I have yet to find the response he's looking for. Honestly, it almost seems like he wants to argue. To debate. I've already placed the development book for five year olds on hold at the library to see what this stage is typically trying to achieve - so I can quit stumbling around like the idiot I've suddenly turned into ;)

Branching away from me mentally is just one of the many examples of how he's grown in the last two months. He has his first loose tooth. He slept in his own bed (for a couple of nights, at least ;) It didn't last, but it was a fun experiment.) He tried repeatedly (and to almost tragic ends) to cross the street by himself (we've tackled that one, thank gawd.) He no longer seems scared of the dining room (er, ex-playroom) anymore. He is back to enjoying new foods and eating heartily after a strangely sparse spell this winter. He is shouting out "hello's" to neighbors and seeming more socially strong. He is walking further and back to occasionally scooting independently for outings. He has requested his own room (but, um, no, not yet, Mama...) He is instigating large-ish projects on a regular basis. (See below)

But with all of this stretching away comes the sharp snap when he bends back towards us. And he only must bend, because, typically, he is already physically touching either E or I. The push and pull of growing is as tangible right now as when he was two, and its fascinating to watch. He is constantly interacting, physically and mentally. I didn't realize this could be taken to a higher level than before, but, apparently, there was still room to grow here too. Independent play, those brief little blips of it that bloomed last fall, have wilted and died a dramatic death. We're back to interacting absolutely constantly, , reminding me of his toddler days. I'm sure this plays into some leap he's making with vocabulary or speech patterns or something.... Then at night, reading while he falls asleep beside me is a thing of the past, he wants tight cuddles and quiet chatting. (He was growing increasingly overstimulated at bedtime, so the lights have to be out and everything quiet, just like when he was younger too. This has been an arduous transition, with the silly mama not realizing just what was needed. But this week we've hit upon the right combo and his slip into sleep has become less of a transitional nightmare for him.) By the time he slides away at night, he has required, occupied and desiccated my brain - for 14 hours straight (he's sleeping less of late) - and this introvert is learning a lot.

Like this week. I learned to stop blaming myself for every gawddamn foible I find on this journey. Not only is it counter-productive, its also, occasionally, not true. I've been hitting myself over my hard head for the last month, thinking... what? My introverted ways were ruining my kid? He was having trouble because I was having trouble keeping up such a constant connection? Or, maybe, I was just too tired of a shit when I was sick and he had discovered the idea of "grudge?" Or, was he suddenly questioning everything I said because he felt...??? Was I spending too much time dancing the cooking/playing combo, he needs more face time? What had I done???

While I still strongly believe that the parent sets the tone for an adult/child relationship, I have to remember that he's not a baby anymore. Things aren't quite so simple. He's growing some complex emotions, hitting some areas of reason, taking in more of the world around him. And it isn't all about me anymore, either. Despite the fact that he feels the need to be connected at the hip all day... ;) Ahhh, the push and pull of growing up.



Anyway, enough parenting bullshit. The kid has been project happy this month too:

He did a photo journal one day. I thought his mostly monochromatic palette in each shot was really interesting:







He's been obsessed with re-creating Squeaky's (a tiny plastic penguin he loves) home. The ziploc baggy idea was such a wash, and he was never happy with the glass jar, so he's moved on to a refrigerator drawer. It gets updated (and spilled) frequently.



His dedication to "reduce, reuse, recycle" has left us with very little recycling (though our local, deposit based glass milk jars are the most helpful to this cause;) Not used to using tissue (when did the death of the hanky happen, anyway?) he was strangely attached to the tissue boxes my elongated illness brought into the house. To that end, we created houses. Then he felt the toilet paper rolls were too fab to flush away... And so was born a magnetic marble run. At the kid's rate, the dump will never be overflowing. Our house, is another matter altogether...



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Oh, and the paper flowers were entirely his invention. As was their cornmeal base. This is only the beginning bouquet though, it has grown, daily, into a huge arrangement, to celebrate Spring!