Nothing like traveling for Thanksgiving to give you so much for which to be Capitol-T-Thankful. Loving and amazing family.
Sweet animals
Tasty food
Great adventures...
oh and HOME. As Chaya put it upon our return THIS IS CHAYA'S HOUSE!!! (running around hugging all her left behind friends and furniture. I have had massive travel-insomnia but I can't help thinking "well I am just laying here restlessly but I'm so comfortable in this bed. This is an amazing bed to NOT sleep in!"
In case you were wondering, travelling with a toddler is kind of a challenge. It's a joy. It's full of shockingly good behavior interspliced with pure glee and excitement... interspliced with sheer pathos, sturm und drang. Before we travelled, I'd recalled last year's sleepmaggeddon. I suggested Chaya's rope for stimulation and the related poor sleep was about 4 days. We definitely get a free day of crappy sleep and excitement that can be followed by a lot of make up sleep the next day. The day after that things start to gradually deteriorate. By our departure last year, Chaya was up crying all night and had to sleep with us for the first time in about a year.
We chose a five day trip this year. Six including travel days. It's not a bad thing to push just beyond that comfort zone... Well, it's a thing where the benefits kinda outweigh the downsides, more like. My exhaustion is a little high at the moment. The final day or so were definitely increasingly high demand days, and the actual trip home was something! All the while, everyone was exclaiming what a mellow, sweet toddler my little imp was.
True, but with caveats. It's a sign of love how much we show our true selves to those around us, right? Possibly abuse in a purely adult relationship, but children are not adults and our expectations are different.
I was saying to myself in half-jest that the next time Andrew wants to be away from home with Chaya for more than 4 days at a time, I'll happily start the trip with them, and then hand her off to him and the family for the rest of the time. She'll be fine while she's there. Sure it will all be mounting up for an even bigger decompensation when she's back with me again, but at least that way I'll have had some of my own recovery time!
The thing about travelling as mommy is that I am the portable safe space. Chaya is a brave girl and she handles herself exceptionally well with newer people ... when I'm not there. If I'm there, she has no bones about expressing her preference for me in all things. Even banal little things like walking up the stairs will merit a yeowl and shriek if somebody other than mommy attempts to help her. And when things get a little overstimulating, she will climb up mommy like a little simian and cling no matter the protestations about back pain or overburbling teapots. When we're out and minimizing scenes, I'm more inclined to want to keep her mellow. Because I know she's struggling, I'm less likely to say "sorry, kiddo, mommy needs a break." I did make sure to take a bath and a walk every day I was there. I know Chaya can handle that much as long as she's got backup. But letting her interrupt a party with a massive meltdown seems a wee bit unseemly no matter how much it might be nice for daddy's offer to carry the beast might be.
If I'm not there, Daddy becomes the next safe space, but she's not quite as saran wrapped to his side. She ventures a bit more. When mommy and daddy aren't there, she is reserved perhaps but usually pretty much knows to endear herself to the next most familiar face. It's fascinating to watch and it gives me absolute confidence that she is fine in the capable hands of her grandparents or other trusted individuals. But the more she reaches out, the heavier the crash and thrash when I return.
I was laughing at some moms who say the benefit of leaving the house more often was how happy their children were to see them when they get home. Chaya's happy to see me when I come back, but it evolves rather quickly into manic madness and flung about tears.
I'm the "safe space" for sure, and that's an honor and a burden. As it should be. I was reflecting how we all basically struggle somehow with the backlog of experience and feelings inherent in life. It's just that we learn slowly to manage how those are released (catharsis? exercise? meditating?). It's actually amazing how in the moment Chaya can be totally fine in the face of some really intense new experiences, like being with unfamiliar people or in unfamiliar spaces. And I remember how often when I was in the thick of things, my spirit survived superlatively well in the short term. It was when my mom's chemotherapy was officially finished that I allowed myself to fall apart, for instance. I think of it as a more complicated manifestation of how our fight or flight nervous systems equip us with deep reserves of physical power when we or our loved ones are in peril, but with the recognition of the deep cost paid in recovery for those efforts. Because in the midst of complex and exciting uncertainties, human beings have evolved (to varying degrees) ways to cope and carry forward until there is a safe time to be vulnerable.
I see even very sensitive children as more capable of some of that regulation that we think. In a basic survival mode sense. Like all of us, they can be brave. They can delay their more complicated expressions and experiences. Like adults, they can be distracted out of pangs of hunger or fear or reproach. But it has to be processed at some point. And with young ones, they can't manage the processing on their own yet. They need that safe space. The place where it's ok to be a vulnerable little tsunami. It's good.
I think new experiences, social situations and all kinds of other things press a person just a little. It's important that they do. Growth comes from rebuilding what has broken - whether it be muscles worked in exercise, ideas evolving, and failure leading to success. All that can take a lot from you. Growth requires stretching, a little snapping, and then recovery. As my motherly instincts urge, I get to be the one to let/encourage Chaya to step just a bit beyond her comfort zone and then be prepared to absorb and work with that intensity when she needs to recover.
It's a hard balance. Where is too far? She doesn't understand or know her limits yet and I shouldn't expect her to. And since she saves the decompensation for me, it's hard for others to gauge the warning signs.
Sometimes I feel worried or guilty that perhaps I hold her back a bit. I know that parental attitudes about danger and about others can inform the child's experience. I know from family law that anxiety about the other parent from one parent can feed distrust in the child, for instance. I have been told things like "usually the child is ready, but the parent isn't and they sense that," when talking about leaving kiddo at preschool for the first time. And I grant this to an extent, though I also think there's a smidgen of "faith-healerese" in that (if your kid isn't experiencing a person well, it's because you lacked faith? Obviously, children are ultimately their own selves and we can't force or expect them to experience/feel things according to our wishes)
I feel this funny sense of guilt when she isn't excited to see a beloved relative or even her daddy. When she breaks into howls because the person opening the door upstairs is her uncle instead of her daddy. When she greets her happy grandparents by staring vacantly and then recoiling into my arms saying something about "house." I feel the balancing guilt that I am putting her in a situation she appears to be uncomfortable in. Or when I try very hard to encourage her to spend time doing something she does not want to. I feel mildly guilty when she cries for me regardless of whether I go running towards her or whether I step back and leave her with others. I certainly feel like I know her limits and try to simultaneously respect them and stretch them gently. But I also do try to outsource to third party input. I try to step away because I think she needs it as much as because I need it. I just want to do that in a safely challenging way of course.
It is amazing how much more of a little individual Miss Chaya becomes each day. We have now been fully weaned for about two weeks. It was very difficult at first, but suddenly quite easy. I have insane hormonal whackiness, but no grief at the change. I'm so proud of her. And so grateful for the new ways we can connect.
In a sense it's funny that I reflect sometimes how one of my primal goals as a parent is to give her a strong enough foundation that she would be absolutely safe/happy/comfortable if I were to vanish tomorrow. That doesn't mean recoiling from her lest she grow too attached, but it does mean that I want to step away sometimes and release my own fear of missing some small aspect of a life not fully mine to consume.
And in light of this, as well as my own need for a break, we actually might have found Chaya a preschool for 2018! We visited it Tuesday morning and both felt it accorded with our educational philosophies (kids should play, let's not go crazy with things either in the too structured or too unstructured way, STEM is fine but STEAM is better, children learn in their own ways, and cultural & linguistic and economic diversity is an asset).
It boggles my mind to think of all the living she will do without me, as well as the living I am beginning to do on my own.
But for all time, I am happy to let her venture out with my sleeve in her hand and know a safe space awaits until she decides to create her own.
I was saying to myself in half-jest that the next time Andrew wants to be away from home with Chaya for more than 4 days at a time, I'll happily start the trip with them, and then hand her off to him and the family for the rest of the time. She'll be fine while she's there. Sure it will all be mounting up for an even bigger decompensation when she's back with me again, but at least that way I'll have had some of my own recovery time!
The thing about travelling as mommy is that I am the portable safe space. Chaya is a brave girl and she handles herself exceptionally well with newer people ... when I'm not there. If I'm there, she has no bones about expressing her preference for me in all things. Even banal little things like walking up the stairs will merit a yeowl and shriek if somebody other than mommy attempts to help her. And when things get a little overstimulating, she will climb up mommy like a little simian and cling no matter the protestations about back pain or overburbling teapots. When we're out and minimizing scenes, I'm more inclined to want to keep her mellow. Because I know she's struggling, I'm less likely to say "sorry, kiddo, mommy needs a break." I did make sure to take a bath and a walk every day I was there. I know Chaya can handle that much as long as she's got backup. But letting her interrupt a party with a massive meltdown seems a wee bit unseemly no matter how much it might be nice for daddy's offer to carry the beast might be.
If I'm not there, Daddy becomes the next safe space, but she's not quite as saran wrapped to his side. She ventures a bit more. When mommy and daddy aren't there, she is reserved perhaps but usually pretty much knows to endear herself to the next most familiar face. It's fascinating to watch and it gives me absolute confidence that she is fine in the capable hands of her grandparents or other trusted individuals. But the more she reaches out, the heavier the crash and thrash when I return.
I was laughing at some moms who say the benefit of leaving the house more often was how happy their children were to see them when they get home. Chaya's happy to see me when I come back, but it evolves rather quickly into manic madness and flung about tears.
I'm the "safe space" for sure, and that's an honor and a burden. As it should be. I was reflecting how we all basically struggle somehow with the backlog of experience and feelings inherent in life. It's just that we learn slowly to manage how those are released (catharsis? exercise? meditating?). It's actually amazing how in the moment Chaya can be totally fine in the face of some really intense new experiences, like being with unfamiliar people or in unfamiliar spaces. And I remember how often when I was in the thick of things, my spirit survived superlatively well in the short term. It was when my mom's chemotherapy was officially finished that I allowed myself to fall apart, for instance. I think of it as a more complicated manifestation of how our fight or flight nervous systems equip us with deep reserves of physical power when we or our loved ones are in peril, but with the recognition of the deep cost paid in recovery for those efforts. Because in the midst of complex and exciting uncertainties, human beings have evolved (to varying degrees) ways to cope and carry forward until there is a safe time to be vulnerable.
I see even very sensitive children as more capable of some of that regulation that we think. In a basic survival mode sense. Like all of us, they can be brave. They can delay their more complicated expressions and experiences. Like adults, they can be distracted out of pangs of hunger or fear or reproach. But it has to be processed at some point. And with young ones, they can't manage the processing on their own yet. They need that safe space. The place where it's ok to be a vulnerable little tsunami. It's good.
I think new experiences, social situations and all kinds of other things press a person just a little. It's important that they do. Growth comes from rebuilding what has broken - whether it be muscles worked in exercise, ideas evolving, and failure leading to success. All that can take a lot from you. Growth requires stretching, a little snapping, and then recovery. As my motherly instincts urge, I get to be the one to let/encourage Chaya to step just a bit beyond her comfort zone and then be prepared to absorb and work with that intensity when she needs to recover.
It's a hard balance. Where is too far? She doesn't understand or know her limits yet and I shouldn't expect her to. And since she saves the decompensation for me, it's hard for others to gauge the warning signs.
Sometimes I feel worried or guilty that perhaps I hold her back a bit. I know that parental attitudes about danger and about others can inform the child's experience. I know from family law that anxiety about the other parent from one parent can feed distrust in the child, for instance. I have been told things like "usually the child is ready, but the parent isn't and they sense that," when talking about leaving kiddo at preschool for the first time. And I grant this to an extent, though I also think there's a smidgen of "faith-healerese" in that (if your kid isn't experiencing a person well, it's because you lacked faith? Obviously, children are ultimately their own selves and we can't force or expect them to experience/feel things according to our wishes)
I feel this funny sense of guilt when she isn't excited to see a beloved relative or even her daddy. When she breaks into howls because the person opening the door upstairs is her uncle instead of her daddy. When she greets her happy grandparents by staring vacantly and then recoiling into my arms saying something about "house." I feel the balancing guilt that I am putting her in a situation she appears to be uncomfortable in. Or when I try very hard to encourage her to spend time doing something she does not want to. I feel mildly guilty when she cries for me regardless of whether I go running towards her or whether I step back and leave her with others. I certainly feel like I know her limits and try to simultaneously respect them and stretch them gently. But I also do try to outsource to third party input. I try to step away because I think she needs it as much as because I need it. I just want to do that in a safely challenging way of course.
It is amazing how much more of a little individual Miss Chaya becomes each day. We have now been fully weaned for about two weeks. It was very difficult at first, but suddenly quite easy. I have insane hormonal whackiness, but no grief at the change. I'm so proud of her. And so grateful for the new ways we can connect.
In a sense it's funny that I reflect sometimes how one of my primal goals as a parent is to give her a strong enough foundation that she would be absolutely safe/happy/comfortable if I were to vanish tomorrow. That doesn't mean recoiling from her lest she grow too attached, but it does mean that I want to step away sometimes and release my own fear of missing some small aspect of a life not fully mine to consume.
And in light of this, as well as my own need for a break, we actually might have found Chaya a preschool for 2018! We visited it Tuesday morning and both felt it accorded with our educational philosophies (kids should play, let's not go crazy with things either in the too structured or too unstructured way, STEM is fine but STEAM is better, children learn in their own ways, and cultural & linguistic and economic diversity is an asset).
It boggles my mind to think of all the living she will do without me, as well as the living I am beginning to do on my own.
But for all time, I am happy to let her venture out with my sleeve in her hand and know a safe space awaits until she decides to create her own.
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