Hey...I'm back. I feel terribly guilty that I've let another 6 months go by without posting about Piper's antics. It's like her whole childhood is going to pass undocumented on the web. What kind of life is that? She'll have to rely solely on her memory during her future years of therapy instead of conveniently printing out these pages. For that, my favorite daughter, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to make amends now.
I was rereading my last 2 posts and I realize Piper has really grown up in the last 6 months. She doesn't complain as much about my driving since I allow her to drive most of the time. There are not a lot of traffic situations that a bad attitude and 6 phone books can't solve. She is finally potty-trained after a family vacation with my much more disciplined sister and 7-year-old niece who took over the process entirely. What I couldn't accomplish in 8 months, they pretty much tied up in 5 days. My next battle is with the f'n pacifier, which has recently given Piper a herpes-looking sore on her mouth, but retains a power over her I liken only to heroin. She sometimes suggests giving the pice to various younger "babies" she knows from school, but coincidentally will mention a few minutes later that she is no longer friends with said babies and would prefer never to see them again. I guess I'm going to try bribery, which is the only way I can get remotely close to washing her hair and has led to what has got to be an odd experience for my neighbors to overhear when Piper runs around soaking wet, sobbing and screaming, "I DON'T WANT A PRESENT."
She's hit the WHY???? stage in a ferocious way and I don't even pretend to try and answer all the whys like some lunatic parents I've heard patiently explaining why tigers have stripes, why dogs scratch, why the moon is only out at night, why there are 2 CVS stores on the same block (I really have no answer for that) why mommy is drinking so heavily. On the fun side, in the last 6 months Piper has grown to love princess movies (I don't care what you are thinking, womyn, I played with Barbies for 11 years and I am a well-functioning female, albeit with a fondness for walking on my tiptoes and dream houses), hugging and kissing us, Santa, discussing potential Halloween costumes, cooking most nights with Dada, counting (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 11, 12, 11-teen is actually correct for those of you still using the old math) and wearing the cheapest, most flammable, dirt-magnet nightgowns...with princesses on them.
So, she's keeping up her end of the bargain in terms of precociousness/OCD/general nuttiness and I'm doing my best to become my worst nightmare of a parent. Piper is 3 and a half years old and I have spent a pretty decent portion of the last 2 weeks setting up and conducting tours of various private kindergartens. Yep. I've become an asshole. I remember living in New York City in my early 20s and laughing at the tales of Manhattanite parents bribing, threatening and crying over getting their kids into the "right kindergarten." Fast forward 15 years and you'll overhear me say that "kindergarten sets the tone for Piper's whole academic future." Yeah, I used the phrases "sets the tone" AND "academic future." I try to tell myself that I'm different than other parents and don't mean it in the way that those elitist New Yorkers did, because I want Piper to go to a laid back, nurturing school where the emphasis isn't on standardized testing, but I suspect I may be splitting hairs here. Regardless, going from a kid who deliberately flunked the entrance exam to the my local private high school to go to public school with my friends to someone asking questions about academic philosophy and a school's theory on play, I feel I may have lost some of my edge.
That's what no one tells you about parenthood - or one the 6,000 things people don't tell you...you want a child because you love your husband and just know it'll be fabulous and make everything perfect, you lug it around in your own body for 38 weeks of full-time nausea, go through 47 hours of unmedicated labor, spend nights sobbing on the floor as she screams inexplicably from 2-4am, wipe her poop for 3 years, accommodate every mood and complaint, give up movies, comfortable sleep, adult tv, conversation and any semblance of an independent existence and just when you think you can't GIVE any more or LOVE any more or move further away from the surly, rebellious, cool person you once were, you realize you are spending nights awake thinking about the Waldorf educational model and you just know that your total metamorphosis into a soft, wimpy, guilt-ridden, puddle of mommy goo has only just begun.
