For the first time since 22 month-old Summer was born, I’m now really getting to spend time with her.  Each morning. Just Summer. And me.

There are no morning naps to contend with anymore.  She’s outgrown them. There is no big sister racing around, spinning with energy and chattering away in an endless stream of nonsequitors.  Instead, Dylan is racing and spinning and chattering happily at preschool.

Just simple, present, precious time. With Summer.

A chance to know my baby, who really isn’t a baby at all.

And I had time with someone else this past weekend. My mother.  My fascinating, puzzling, passionate mother.

She is plowing her way through an aggressive social work program to earn her masters, so my time with her lately has been quite limited.

But she came up for a visit and the two of us were able to focus on each other.  This is always a challenge for us. Because frequently we are like two acquaintances, awkwardly stuck in an elevator together, who struggle to find common ground.

But this visit we made it work, made it click.

We went to yoga class together, had lunch and had conversations that went like this…

“Mom, why do you keep your money in a plastic ziploc bag?” I asked.

“It’s just easier. I keep the cash in one bag and credit cards in another,” my mom explained.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to have a, oh i don’t know, A WALLET.”

“No, I tried that. It didn’t really work for me.”

“Really? Because it works for the other 6 billion people on earth.”

“No, I like this better.”

“Ok. That’s cool.”

And we had substantive conversations too that focused less on ziploc bags and more on parenthood and relationships and life.

I’ve always been a girl on the go. I’ve got stuff to do and I want to get to it. But sometimes I can stop. Connect and just be.

The being can be the hardest part. But it’s also the part that ends up meaning the most.

mama bird notes:

Contributing mama Jordana bales has been facing a firestorm lately from her little, beautiful Ava. Click on contributing mamas to find out how she finally got things under control and got her mama confidence back.

A fellow mummy needs your help in the kitchen. She’s completely bored with what she’s serving up for her little girl. Click on askamama and give her your best kids meal.

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By Contributing Mama Jordana Bales

Lately I’ve been feeling like a bit of a failure. I love my job and husband. I finally have my teeny New York apartment organized and clean. I manage to keep my fingernails (not to mention toenails!) chip-free. I’ve lost (most) of my (second) baby weight and am not having any major conflicts with any major players in my life. Breastfeeding is going smashingly well even with the arduous task of pumping 3-5 times daily in order to produce 18 ounces for baby Lila Drew.

So, what’s the problem? It’s my eldest, my beautiful, frustrating almost three-year old, Ava.

Is it the unbelievable screaming fits set on by anything (I want milk, I want a cookie, I want Elmo, I want to take Lila’s socks off) or nothing at all? Is it the constant hitting, poking, scaring her baby sister? Is it the incessant testing of the boundaries? Is it the desire to lick cream cheese straight from the package? Is it the unbridled energy that can turn a well-organized room into a disaster area in mere minutes? Is it the insistence on calling me “Mama” (I go by Mommy) or worse yet, “Dee Dee” (no idea where THAT comes from)? Partially, but mainly it’s my own complete frustration and inability in dealing with it.

I’m a pragmatic gal. Always have been. Give me a problem and I’ll talk it through, analyze it (to death, some may say), work on it and poof – get a solution! Call me Ms. Fix-it. But I’ve been stymied at how to deal with my Miss Ava. I’ve tried many-a strategy, ignoring, bribing (oh sorry, “positive reinforcement”), punishment, time outs, rewarding good behavior and so on and so on.

Nothing seemed to make too much of a difference. And the worst thing is, I was starting to dread my time with her.

So, I decided I needed some professional help. I have a therapist, Karen, who I have seen for years. In the past 5 years, I’ve only seen her once every 6 months or so for a “mental health check up.” Since my life has been going fairly smoothly since my early 30s, it’s sort of my own superstitious way of making sure I never really NEED her – to have a standing appointment twice a year with her. Today I had one of those check-ups and I wound up spending the whole time talking about Ava and my frustrations with her. I led with my biggest fear, that I’m just a horrible mother.

Karen assured me that the fact that I was asking these questions and seeking advice (not to mention solace) guaranteed that I was not a bad mother. According to her, only a good mother would bother to worry about being a bad mother (phew!). And then she gave me some very practical advice on how to deal with Ava.

One) DO NOT NEGOTIATE. When I say no Ava repeats what she wants. I then repeat my well-reasoned, articulate and rational comments and Ava repeats her demands. This goes on until it escalates with her screaming, “I want a cookie” and me babbling like an idiot “I know you want a cookie but you can’t have a cookie.” So, from now on, I give a reason, say no and that’s it. Game over.

Two) When she does work herself up into these screaming, crying, crazy fits, I can try to calm her through gentle touches. Previously, Ava would get herself so worked up that she could not calm herself down. Plus, her shrieking screams sent me into such an emotional tailspin that I needed some calming myself. Even though I knew a calming touch would help her, I felt like caressing her in the midst of these fits was positively reinforcing them. Wrong! Karen explained to me that soothing her was showing her that she is loved and understood and since I still wasn’t giving in to her demands, I wasn’t reinforcing her tantrums.

I tried these techniques today and it completely changed the dynamic and curtailed several fits.

Prior to the success of my new techniques, I had been so afraid of these confrontations that I hadn’t been able to see my Ava for the beautiful, funny sweet, passionate girl that she is.  I was so certain that this oppositional toddler was destined to give me trouble for the rest of her (and my) days. I actually said to Michael, “I just know she’s going to grow up to be a heroin addict or something” to which Michael replied, “She’s not even three, let’s not write her off just yet.”

I’m so glad I have her (not to mention my Mommy confidence) back.

My 14 month old eats a pretty decent variety of food but I find myself feeding her the same things over and over again for lunch and dinner.  Any thoughts on what to give her besides chicken or pasta with a veggie side. I am open to casseroles or mixed dishes- anything healthy! Help! Thanks. – Erin

Have you been longing for my post debate analysis?  CNN tried to book me, but I told Wolf I had laundry to fold.

Yes, I did watch on Friday night.

Every minute of it, despite my inner boob tube demons that kept constantly urging me to watch Grey’s Anatomy on DVR instead.

I really didn’t feel like either candidate knocked it out of the auditorium. Obama certainly held his own on foreign policy. He did an excellent job of nailing home the point that we took our eye off Afghanistan and Bin Laden, the true villains of 9-11. Not Iraq.

But I thought McCain did a brilliant job of stressing his long history of experience without seeming like some old, disoriented man. His repeated comment to Obama, “What you don’t understand…” was very effective.

I’m not sure why McCain told us that the pen he was holding was really old. Maybe he was trying to look young and sprightly compared to his writing instrument.

And yeah, McCain stumbled over the name of Pakistan’s new president. But I seriously doubt most Americans can pronounce Asif Ali Zardari. And you know our current president doesn’t even realize there is a new president. So McCain is differentiating himself from Bush in that respect.

Of course, McCain also tripped over the name of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.  But that seems kind of hard to say too.

I watched the debate with my mom, who’s in town for the weekend from North Carolina. She thought they both did a decent job discussing foreign policy. As for their appearance and behavior (you know, what REALLY counts)…

McCain: Good looking, although she thought he was rude with his repeated smirks.

Obama: Looked stately, more presidential. But he could put on a couple pounds.

I’m sure the french fries, pizza and milkshakes have already been ordered for Obama’s second debate prep. You know, to help him bulk up.

Of course, the real juicy debate will be next week between the man who has a penchant for saying some unpredictable things and the woman who has been passionate about foreign policy for a whole 3 weeks.

Grey’s Anatomy won’t even be a temptation.

I’ve been so erratic and all over the map lately. Really, I haven’t been a bit presidential. And now I’m thinking of suspending my blog so that I can focus solely on my angst.

Oh wait. I’m not running for President. I don’t need to suspend anything. I’ll just write about my stress (you know, rather than doing something actually constructive).

I’m completely overwhelmed by the kindergarten options for my daughter Dylan. Can you imagine if someone came up to me when I was a 20-something single girl, out drinking cocktails with my girlfriends and flirting with some guy in an Upper West Side bar and said to me, “Someday you will be freaking out so crazy about kindergarten choices.”

Oh no, not me. I would never be THAT pathetic.

But I am.

And at this point, I’m thinking we should just move out of Manhattan.

Last night I attended a THREE hour meeting at Dylan’s preschool to discuss kindergarten options… you know, private schools, public schools, talented and gifted programs, the ERB test, the OLSTAT test, the Stanford Binet test, the oh-my-gosh-I-have-no-friggin-idea-what-any-of-this-means-test, etc.

And you have to decide what’s best for your child and start applying RIGHT NOW. Well, actually three days BEFORE NOW.

And I had the additional pleasure of paying my babysitter $60 bucks for this experience.

So hence my current McCain-esque tailspin that is getting me nowhere.

When I got home, I was so brain-fried that I just put on the TV. I was excited that a new episode of “ER” was starting.  No spoiler here if you are an “ER” fan, but I’m finally convinced that it really is the most depressing show on television (Rick’s been insisting this for years).

I was sobbing. On my couch. Watching ER. By Myself.

Apparently, it really is possible to become even more pathetic.

But I’m going to get my act together. Because if the government can solve our crippling economic crisis than I can certainly get a handle on Dylan’s kindergarten choices. It just takes a little focus, homework and internal calmness -

What? Oh, lawmakers haven’t solved our country’s financial problems yet? Well, jeez. That’s just another thing to worry about.