Better than Prozac

Today has been a challenging day here in the Condon household. Andrew left Monday afternoon on a business trip - we're going to meet him in New Hampshire Friday night... if we all live that long.

I once read somewhere that the toddler/preschool years are referred to as the first "adolescence", well let me tell you something, Bear may not see the second. We had four major blow-outs today. And when I say major, I mean that I am surprised the neighbors don't call the police. Bear is all girl when it comes to her emotions. Hormonal, hysterical, screaming, crying, kicking, throwing, slamming fits are commonplace. Three of today's revolved around me requesting that she wear something other than silky pajama bottom shorts and an undershirt outdoors (for the record it was about 60 degrees and WINDY today). One of the times I asked her to get dressed it was because I wanted to take her to a new park/zoo that we haven't visited yet but one of my bff's raves about. Seriously? Show me one other kid who throws a fit because someone wants to take them to the zoo. The last melt down was over bedtime which finally ended when I called Andrew and had him chat and "snuggle" with her over the phone until she fell asleep.

I am exhausted by all of this. I am also desperately saddened by the screaming and yelling I end up doing. I am adamantly opposed to spanking - no matter the situation - there is a history of physical abuse in my past and I will absolutely not allow that in my home. Tonight, Andrew told me that I verbally hit Bear when I scream at her. I collapsed into sobs. I love my daughter, more than I could possibly ever express in words. But there comes a point when I have been yelled at, and hit, and bombarded with all sorts of flying toys that I forget to be the parent and instead resort to playing the role of sparring partner.

I worry about Bear. I don't know if Bear is a normal preschooler or if she has somehow inherited the dark cloud of depression that used to hover above me. It's no secret that Zoloft is my ticket to participating in life but the thought of medicating a three year old.. Andrew is going to call the pediatrician tomorrow to set up an appointment with the child psychologist, we'll start there.

You're wondering where the "better" part of the title comes in? No it's not in that last paragraph. As I sat on the couch tonight, my eyes raw from crying, my phoned dinged to tell me I had a new email message. Someone had just left a comment on my 100 things post. I didn't know what they were referring to, so I went back and read the post. Then I read all the comments. And laughed. Then I started linking to other peoples blogs. And reading. And the anger and stress of the day started to drip down towards my toes to be deposited on the carpet instead of in my heart.

Thank you.

P.S. Yes I do still actually knit. That will be, gasp, tomorrow's post.

Neglectful

That is what I have been. Between two kids, two dogs, one husband, one step-daughter, work, breastfeeding, one knitting blog, one knitting swap, knitting itself and various other hobbies something had to give. This month it was the knitting blog. Maybe next month it will be the kids. :-)

Eight Years, Eight Pictures for Peace

Hi Ho Hi Ho

I went back to work this week. Part time. LOVE IT! I'm sure I will love it a bit less when I get that first decreased paycheck but I really like the easier pace of working 24-hours a week instead of 40. I get to "sleep in" a few days a week and enjoy Bear and Tadpole while they are still little but I also get adult interaction and mental stimulation (beyond reviewing my shapes and colors). I am one happy and content clam.

I didn't meet my goal of finishing all WIP's over the summer but hey, they're my WIP's, I'll finish them when I am good and ready. For now I am happy to start a few more projects. I've started a simple baby pullover for Tadpole but he is growing like a weed (14.5# at 13 weeks!) so I'm not sure if it's even going to fit. I also started a red cabled sweater for Tadpole for Christmas pictures but I'm thinking it is more intricate and time-consuming than a baby sweater should be. I have also begun building an Etsy shop for myself. I have four custom orders right now and hope to post a few ready-to-sell sweaters within the next couple of weeks.

Fall is here in New England. The nights and early mornings are cool. I am sad to see the summer go but also happy that it's no longer a zillion degrees out.

My Brush with a Legend

In the eleventh grade I was fortunate enough to participate in Project Close-Up in Washington, D.C. It was my first time on an airplane (which I might have been more excited about than the actual trip itself).

On Capitol Hill day we had a scavenger hunt type list of things to find (a copy of a bill, etc.) and were to meet in our congressman's office at some certain time. While my friend Tim and I were walking down the street we saw our congressman, Patrick Kennedy. And like the two starstruck teenagers we were, we pointed and gaped and made a complete spectacle of ourselves to the point that Patrick Kennedy crossed the street and introduced himself (probably to minimize the scene we were causing). When he found out that we were from Rhode Island and actually scheduled to meet him later that day he took us with him to see a vote. And while Patrick Kennedy was voting, his father, Ted Kennedy appeared. Patrick spoke a few words, pointed up to the balcony, and then Ted Kennedy waved to us. To me.

My Little Girl Is Getting So Big

Last week, Andrew took Bear, K (my step-daughter), and his mom to the far reaches of Pennsylvania for the third bi-annual family reunion. Tadpole and I stayed home since no one wanted to be in a car for twelve hours with a baby that hates his car seat. While they were gone I spent five days clearing out clutter and rearranging furniture, turning K's weekend bedroom into Tadpole's nursery and turning Bear's nursery into her new "big girl room". When all was said and done, I cried. She's getting big so quickly. Here are some pictures of her new room.

A Lesson Learned

After a recent rash of flying toys, Andrew and I instituted a new rule: If Bear throws something it goes in the garbage. After losing a pair of flip flops and a baby bottle the air traffic around the house greatly diminished. Last week she chucked "Binky Bear" at Andrew. He took it away and told her it was going in the trash can (major temper tantrum ensued). Since we wouldn't actually throw away Binky Bear, Andrew just hid it. A couple of days later he gave it back on account of good behavior. That's when Bear and I had this conversation...

Bear: The recycle man didn't take Binky Bear away?

Me: No, he was going to but Daddy knows how much you love Binky Bear so he asked the recycle man to leave Binky Bear here.

Bear: Not like my flip flops?

Me: Right. Your flip flops are all gone because you threw them at Mommy.

Bear: So I can throw things at Daddy but not at you?

Me: No Bear, we don't throw things at anybody.