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 elcome
to toddlerhood.
For those of you smeared
in peanut butter and finger paint listening to a three-foot hormone
wail about the color of air while you try to read your computer
screen, we deserve to go out and get drunk together. For the rest
of you would-be moms with loudly ticking clocks, your test will
come at the end of this column.
I now have a hunch why parents answer a simple question like
"How old is your child?" in the most complicated, nearly
anatomical way. "Oh Kate? She's 14 months and ten days."
What gives with this hyper-accuracy stuff? True, it's a competitive
analysis of weight and height for moms and grandmothers to use
with each other in polite conversation. But
during the toddler years, these precise measurements of time provide
the inquisitor with a built in apology for bad behavior.
"Oooh, a year and a half; isn't she sweet," comments
the woman at the cash register while nervously watching several
dangerous attempts to leap from the grocery cart. Supposedly the
stage of "negativism" begins anywhere from 15 to 24
months and lasts for about six. I think it is meant to foreshadow
what life is like with a teenager. If you find yourself already
considering your child might be awarded a scholarship to Julliard
for dramatic acting, chances are you've got a true toddler on
your hands.
It's not the normal "curiosity-killed-the-cat" stuff
that gets to me. Experimenting with oatmeal in the cat's water
bowl is somewhat endearing. It's the unexpected, unwanted crying
and whining that sends me over the edge. Plus the basic schizophrenia.
These little people can't communicate what it is they want; and
half of what they want they can't have. Mine doesn't want
half of what she can have.
"Do you want some chocolate cake?" I hold out a piece,
thick with icing.
"No!" she says with a stare like Eastwood's in The
Good, Bad and the Ugly.
"Ummm. It's yummy. Taste," I bribe with a smile.
"Ahhhhaaaa. No. No. NO!" She takes three paces away,
hands in the air, prostrates herself head first into the living
room rug and then proceeds to wail. Okay, it appears we don't
like cake today.
Even though toddlers may behave like angels with friends or at
pre-school, they metamorphose from Dr. Jeckels into tiny Mr. Hydes
as soon as you are alone together. I used to think teaching sign
language to babies was just plain silly. Now I'm an orthodox believer.
Otherwise, try living with this soundtrack
to life for a day. It's enough to put a lobotomy on your Christmas
list.
As non-parents, all you hear about is pregnancy this or labor
that. Sometimes you overhear snippets of colicky babies or the
terrible twos, but for the most part you imagine parenthood to
be sheer bliss. You even catch yourself staring with disapproval
at a mother in the grocery store who can't control her tyrannical
brat and think to yourself, "My kids will never behave like
that--she must be doing something wrong." Then you are humbled,
because you find out that behaving badly
is what children do best.
A friend sent me one of those forwarded emails the other that
described a test for parenthood. I felt like I was reading my
biography, and unfortunately I don't know whom to credit. I review
it after a good night sleep of, say, three or four hours, and
remind myself that I'm not the only one.
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Think you're ready for parenthood? Check for yourselves:
Mess Test: Smear peanut butter on the sofa and curtains.
Cover your hands in mud, wipe hands on walls. Use crayons
to cover any stains left on walls.
Toy Test: Get a 55-gallon box filled with Legos.
Scatter them throughout the house. Put on a blindfold. Try
to walk to the bathroom or kitchen without swearing.
Grocery Store Test: Borrow a couple of mid-sized
farm animals (goats are best), and bring them along as you
shop. Make sure you keep them in sight, and pay for anything
they consume. (Downside: Goats don't whine.)
Dressing Test: Obtain a large, live octopus and
attempt to stuff it into a small net bag making sure that
all the arms stay inside the bag.
Feeding Test: Fill a large plastic jug halfway with
water. Suspend it from the ceiling using a stout cord, with
the opening at your chest level. Nudge the jug so it swings.
Attempt to insert spoonfuls of cereal, diced carrots, etc.,
into the mouth of the jug. When you give up, empty the jug's
contents on the floor.
Physical Test (Women): Attach a large beanbag chair
to the front of your clothes and wear it continuously for
9 months. Then remove 10 percent of the beans, patch it
up and continue wearing.
Physical Test (Men): Go to a large department store
like Target or Wal-Mart. Set your wallet on the counter.
Invite the clerk to help herself. Next, drive to a grocery
store and arrange with the customer service manager to have
your paycheck direct-deposited to the store.
Night Test: Fill a pillowcase with 8-10 pounds of
sand. Soak well in water. At 8 p.m. pick up the bag and
waltz with it, singing every song you know. Set it down
at 9pm. Pick it back up at 10pm and resume waltzing and
singing (you may need to make up songs). Put down the bag
again at 4am. Set your alarm clock for 5am. Get up and make
breakfast. Look cheerful. Repeat for 5 years.
Final Assignment: Find a couple who have a small
child. Lecture them on how they can improve their parenting
skills--specifically, discipline, patience, diet, tolerance,
toilet training and table manners. Emphasize they should
never permit their children to be unsupervised. Enjoy the
experience.
Once the stick turns blue, it will be the last time you'll
have all the answers.
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