Maybe I shouldn't even be blogging this morning. I'm exhausted. Jacob is exhausted. The children are exhausted. Esme cried all night. Jacob let her into bed sometime around midnight, and she did her new thing of staying up in bed sighing repeatedly, tossing and turning, then talking to herself. Finally, what seemed like hours later, Jacob took her back to her bed.
The results were predictable. She screamed. Blood-curdling cries. Emil woke up, threatened to cry, but was quickly pacified at mommy's breast. He ate all night as Esme cried all night. Eventually, we let her back in our bed, and sometime way too close to dawn, we all fell asleep.
This followed on the heals of a frustrating dinner experience last night. Every once in a while, we try to take the kids to a decent restaurant. Maybe we're masochists, but we keep thinking it might work out. When Esme was little we were able to do this no problem. But it's more difficult with two kids.
We were doing all right until the waiter spoke directly to Esme. The result was tears, building to what I could tell would become hysterical tears, so I swooped her up into my arms and exited the building. We have a firm rule of no crying in restaurants, and she usually waits until we get outside to wail. We went back inside, and the waiter spoke to her again. Yes, again she started crying. The third time he spoke to her, I had actually just told him he probably shouldn't. It's like seeing a wet paint sign, though, and happens impulsively. For the third time, I swept her from the dining room. We left with a full glass of wine I was rather enjoying on the table, but we did manage to finish our food.
Last night wasn't an isolated incidence. An adult just has to come near her in public (or a child, for that matter), and she threatens to dissolve into tears. I have to confess that those little children who are deathly afraid of everyone who talk to them annoy me. I can't believe that my daughter is in that category.
I have been contemplating ways to train it out of her this morning, but with my background in dog-rearing, all I can come up with is having strangers give her jelly bellies. Uhm, yeah, I realize I shouldn't teach her to take candy from strangers, so that won't work. Jacob reminds me, "She's two." Yes, I know she's two. But I can't help but think that MY two-year-old shouldn't have those issues.
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Although we never had this particular 2-year old issue, we had our own. Unless she's genuinely scared of something tangible, I think that children this age are mostly trying to assert their will-power and identity somehow.
A friend's boy wouldn't eat his food if it had mixed (cue buying little tv dinner trays from pottery barn to keep all food sepparate). Another child wouldn't wear clothes with close filling cuffs, waistbands or collars (resulting in a year of mu-mus or overalls). We only got brief fixations, but it felt just as tricky because you had to work out new strategies all the time. I do know one family who solved the stranger-anxiety by getting together with another family whose child had the same issue. When both kids freaked out over the new friend's parent, they were able to help teach the other that their own parent was nice.
One time when Imogen was having a tantrum, my Dad said ' you wouldn't want it any other way' and I looked at him, gobsmacked. He explained that stubborn, ornery toddlers tend to grow up into adults who know their own minds and stick to their beliefs. Hopefully choosing ideals with a greater degree of rationality than the average 2-year old displays!
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