Perhaps one of my biggest fears about having a daughter is that she may be more like me than her father. I believe there is a solid reason why I wasn't a twin...it truly would be hard to handle two of me. Don't get me wrong, I feel pretty solid in who I am and have certainly figured out how to work with the quirky personality I have. However, I was not an easy child.
I was not always kind. I threw monster temper tantrums lasting hours. I held bitter resentment when I had been wronged. I was bossy and opinionated, and I still am. I was also incredibly sensitive and couldn't always handle criticism of the constructive variety. Significant for this blog, I was also ALWAYS bored.
Looking back now I realize that "bored" was a term I used loosely for pretty much every feeling of insecurity I had. The epitome of my bored years were the last two years we lived in Madagascar. I was attending a Norwegian school at the time and I think the first word that ever stuck was, "kjedelig" (this means bored in Norwegian). I used it all the time and honestly, years later, my very creative and opposite of boring teacher is still scarred from my negative attitude. (I apologize profusely for that, Henrick, if you ever read these blogs.) I was learning and experiencing so many new things at the time, and I think the only way for my eleven year old self to cope was to check out under the guise of boredom.
I feel confidant that if Briony had words she would have been telling me the past few days that her life is so kjedelig. Not really in the "bored" way, but in the "I know something is happening and I am not sure how to handle it" way. After a very fabulous and wonderful week last week, we had a rough and tumble weekend. As easy as it seems to be a baby with their multiple naps, prepared meals and drinks all day long, clothes, baths and entertainment all planned out...their lives really are quite strenuous.
In the past seven months, Briony has more than doubled her weight, she has grown more than six inches. She is in the process of learning a new language and trying to communicate her needs. She has added solids to her repertoire of foods, and has four new teeth. She has also learned how to sit, roll over, grasp and play with toys. These are just the obvious milestones.
The past few days have brought increasing restlessness to my ever changing daughter. I can tell that Briony wants to move. She has taken a new interest in rolling and twisting her body. She loves to crane her neck to look at things; its actually funny to watch because her movements are so exagerated. She wiggles and shakes constantly. Sitting no longer satisfies her, she wants to explore. Unfortunately, she isn't quite there yet. As mentioned before she has a strong aversion to her tummy, so convincing her of crawling is a tough sell. Yesterday she reacquainted herself with standing and even took a few guided steps, but obviously doesn't have the strength or coordination to master walking just yet.
I don't really mind a stationary baby. I have actually gotten quite proficient at accomplishing my to do list as of late. However, she isn't happy being stationary anymore. She is "bored" and wants to explore, only its a little hard to help her do that when she insists only on standing. I anticipated changes with a moving child, but didn't anticipate the anguish that has accompanied her during this transition. I suppose it doesn't help that she is coincidentally also moving into a new stage of fear and separation anxiety. Loud noises are suddenly accompanied with a heartbreakingly adorable panicked look, and when Nick and I are not in view we are instantaneously notified of her discontent.
It is times like this when I wish that my daughter had acquired a little less of my personality. I do learn things and I am capable of working through transitions, but usually I bring a few casualties with me. I tend to feel as though people should know when I think something is rough. Briony in her best nonverbal communication is sharing a similar sentiment. Nick on the other hand is a quiet achiever. He puts his head down, figures it out and then moves on successfully. He also has patience, something I lack. Perhaps I am projecting and Briony isn't as impatient or restless as I am imagining. However, people who know me and my daughter keep telling me that I am dealing with a "little Molly," so I don't feel like I am making it up entirely.
At the very least, I know that with love and patience I have pulled through, and Briony is a very loved little girl. Briony will figure that out, too. I am pretty sure she'll never believe that I could possibly understand because no one ever understood me either when things were "kjedelig," but I do get it. I have to admit that I have trained in a remarkable support network who are more than equipped to handle me, so Briony at least has an empathetic and supportive bunch to help her out. I on the other hand am finding out that many of my supporters are enjoying that I am experiencing a bit of pay back...
I was not always kind. I threw monster temper tantrums lasting hours. I held bitter resentment when I had been wronged. I was bossy and opinionated, and I still am. I was also incredibly sensitive and couldn't always handle criticism of the constructive variety. Significant for this blog, I was also ALWAYS bored.
Looking back now I realize that "bored" was a term I used loosely for pretty much every feeling of insecurity I had. The epitome of my bored years were the last two years we lived in Madagascar. I was attending a Norwegian school at the time and I think the first word that ever stuck was, "kjedelig" (this means bored in Norwegian). I used it all the time and honestly, years later, my very creative and opposite of boring teacher is still scarred from my negative attitude. (I apologize profusely for that, Henrick, if you ever read these blogs.) I was learning and experiencing so many new things at the time, and I think the only way for my eleven year old self to cope was to check out under the guise of boredom.
I feel confidant that if Briony had words she would have been telling me the past few days that her life is so kjedelig. Not really in the "bored" way, but in the "I know something is happening and I am not sure how to handle it" way. After a very fabulous and wonderful week last week, we had a rough and tumble weekend. As easy as it seems to be a baby with their multiple naps, prepared meals and drinks all day long, clothes, baths and entertainment all planned out...their lives really are quite strenuous.
In the past seven months, Briony has more than doubled her weight, she has grown more than six inches. She is in the process of learning a new language and trying to communicate her needs. She has added solids to her repertoire of foods, and has four new teeth. She has also learned how to sit, roll over, grasp and play with toys. These are just the obvious milestones.
The past few days have brought increasing restlessness to my ever changing daughter. I can tell that Briony wants to move. She has taken a new interest in rolling and twisting her body. She loves to crane her neck to look at things; its actually funny to watch because her movements are so exagerated. She wiggles and shakes constantly. Sitting no longer satisfies her, she wants to explore. Unfortunately, she isn't quite there yet. As mentioned before she has a strong aversion to her tummy, so convincing her of crawling is a tough sell. Yesterday she reacquainted herself with standing and even took a few guided steps, but obviously doesn't have the strength or coordination to master walking just yet.
I don't really mind a stationary baby. I have actually gotten quite proficient at accomplishing my to do list as of late. However, she isn't happy being stationary anymore. She is "bored" and wants to explore, only its a little hard to help her do that when she insists only on standing. I anticipated changes with a moving child, but didn't anticipate the anguish that has accompanied her during this transition. I suppose it doesn't help that she is coincidentally also moving into a new stage of fear and separation anxiety. Loud noises are suddenly accompanied with a heartbreakingly adorable panicked look, and when Nick and I are not in view we are instantaneously notified of her discontent.
It is times like this when I wish that my daughter had acquired a little less of my personality. I do learn things and I am capable of working through transitions, but usually I bring a few casualties with me. I tend to feel as though people should know when I think something is rough. Briony in her best nonverbal communication is sharing a similar sentiment. Nick on the other hand is a quiet achiever. He puts his head down, figures it out and then moves on successfully. He also has patience, something I lack. Perhaps I am projecting and Briony isn't as impatient or restless as I am imagining. However, people who know me and my daughter keep telling me that I am dealing with a "little Molly," so I don't feel like I am making it up entirely.
At the very least, I know that with love and patience I have pulled through, and Briony is a very loved little girl. Briony will figure that out, too. I am pretty sure she'll never believe that I could possibly understand because no one ever understood me either when things were "kjedelig," but I do get it. I have to admit that I have trained in a remarkable support network who are more than equipped to handle me, so Briony at least has an empathetic and supportive bunch to help her out. I on the other hand am finding out that many of my supporters are enjoying that I am experiencing a bit of pay back...
