Well, I've been a bit of a blog slacker for the past few days. I have 2 good reasons, however. Reason 1 is that my right wrist and forearm are killing me from too much computer time. My body is trying to tell me (screaming at me, actually) that I need to find a better way to spend my time. In all honesty, I don't really watch TV too much anymore. I've switched over to the computer, which, though it is a bit more brain stimulating, is not a good trade-off for real life.
Reason 2 is I had to get the new Harry Potter read. I'm not a super Harry Potter freak--I mean, I wasn't at the bookstore at midnight on Friday. I did, however, have a copy reserved, and picked it up early Saturday afternoon. When it comes to books, I'm a total binger. I don't read in small quantities. I devour books. So--The Half Blood Prince has been duly devoured, and I have a couple things to say about it. (Don't worry--no spoiling.) Since book 3, I haven't enjoyed the stories as much--though obviously enough to keep reading them. 5 was particularly hard to plow through--and I can best describe it as sullen. 6 was better--but was completely plot driven--very little as far as the character development or world building that was so fun to read in the first few books. I understand that Rowling has had thousands of pages to do both of these things--and may feel like she's given enough of this wizarding world and funky characters that inhabit it--but I miss it and wish she would keep giving her readers more of the fun details and minutiae that made the early books so impossible to put down. As far as what actually happens in book 6, all I'll say is this: 1 thing happened in it that I NEVER thought would happen, ever, and 2 things happened that I've been expecting for some time.
Well--that took longer than I had anticipated. I didn't mean for this post to be a book review. On to the Sophie stuff. Sophie's most uttered phrase lately is "I can DO IT!" If I remember correctly from my Psych 101 class, she's just moving from Erikson's Autonomy vs Shame and Doubt stage into his Initiative vs Guilt stage. (According to Freud, the sick fuck, she's moving from the Anal stage into the Phallic stage, and while she has been informing me that she'll have a wiener when she grows up, I refuse to believe that she has penis envy, or that her complete future personality and success depend on if she can successfully take a shit or not.) I think that other than a little mommy-itis, she's a pretty autonomous girl. When she sees a kid her size out in the world, she marches right up to them and says, "Hi! I'm Sophie! Let's be friends!" She's gotten much better about being left at a grandma or friend's house. I believe that as much as and almost 3 year old can, she know who she is and has a great amount of confidence.
Now, however, we're moving into that tricky initiative stage. She's decided that she can and should do things for herself. Don't get me wrong--I WANT her to be able to do things for herself, but right now, it's just so much more work for me. She has this little chair that she drags with her everywhere to reach things. If I don't watch her closely enough, I'll find her on the kitchen counter, having fetched the jam from the fridge and ripped open the bread, trying to make herself a "jam samwich." When I try to help her with this task, she tells me to go away. The end result is usually very sticky and jammy and a huge mess for me to clean up.
Other things she wants to do by herself are pour drinks, wipe her butt (p.s. The flushable "Kan-doo" kid's wipes are THE BOMB), put videos and DVDs in the player and take them out, use scissors and glue, and get in and out of the car. Again, I really do want her to be able to do these things--to take the initiative and get and do what she wants, but unfortunately, it's a huge pain in my ass. It's messy and time consuming and frustrating for both of us.
I don't remember this event, but my mom often tells a story about me when I was about 4. (I was a VERY independent child, and was known for saying, "I can fick it myself!) I had tried to make my own bed, and was pretty proud of myself. Later my mom came along, and without saying anything to me, remade the bed. After a while she found me crying in the closet, and had no idea what was wrong. When she asked, I told her, "I made my bed all my myself but it wasn't good enough for you!" I'm trying to keep in mind the lesson of this story, and just grit my teeth as I wait for Sophie to climb into the car when I'm in a hurry.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
I love to lay in Sophie's bed with her and read her a story. We checked out "Mrs. McTats and her House Full of Cats" today, and had a read and a snuggle before nap time. It was lovely.
Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Cleaning up after the "jam samwich"