I love you and want the best for you. And I believe you love me, too, based on the way you suck on my cheek with reckless abandon, and lunge toward me, with arms flailing, when you are feeling frustrated. I interpret those as signs of love.
So I know how we feel about one another in the “big picture.” But I can’t help but notice that on the ground floor, if you will, we have some competing notions as to how the day should run. It does not appear that we are on the same page when it comes to our various goals and agendas for our days.
There. I said it. I had to get it out there so that we could begin to come to a mutually agreeable plan. As they say in some self-help circles, acceptance comes before change.
Let’s take a look at a few examples.
Meals (and more specifically, the use of the spoon)
You are fascinated by the spoon, and I love that about you. Your curiosity about life. This is a precursor to Zest, which is a trait known to help you get into college. But my goal for the spoon is simple – I want it to successfully transfer food into your mouth. To ensure that a puree makes it into your pie hole. And here we are at an impasse. It seems that lately (and I don’t mean to generalize, as that is a bad habit adults have) – but it seems that lately EVERY SINGLE TIME I try to feed you you intentionally block my efforts by grabbing wildly at the spoon, unsatisfied until you have gotten your prize and spent at least 3 minutes examining it from every angle, and 2 more minutes shoving it too far back into your mouth. Don’t look at me like that Nolan, I can tell it’s too far back in your mouth by the way you gag on it. Your passion for the spoon is making our meals, how shall I say this nicely, a loooong shitshow.
My goal is for you to get comfortable in the water, maybe get in some light aerobic activity, and ultimately to be way better than Michael Phelps (but that’s a few years off, I know). Your goal for yourself is to keep your hair dry and to steal the straw from my iced coffee at the end of your lesson. Also to maintain your insulation “because winter is right around the corner.” Nice try, Nolan.
My agenda is far from hidden. I would like you to step up to the plate and start crawling like the 7 month old down the block (you are 10 months old Nolie!) Your agenda is to become a Kennedy. You think that with hair so thick and a look that says “Where’s my yacht?!” you can remain an “unsupported sitter” indefinitely. False. Eventually you will need to become physically mobile. Stop using your hair as a crutch.
My goal is to get any and all fecal matter out from your undercarriage, and to make sure that behind your ears stay fresh as well. Your goal is to grab your junk. I’m not certain that you have any bigger agenda here.
Hair growth, styling, and maintenance
As we head into our 3rd salon cut tomorrow, I think we should discuss our respective goals for your hair. My goal for your hair is to maintain its sheen and body, and hopefully some of its wave, without letting it get so long that a) people keep saying what a pretty girl you are, and b) it gets in your eyes so much so that you can’t see your own hands. Your goal, and I’m paraphrasing here, is “To be the next Donny Osmond and also to launch my own line of hair care products.”
See what I’m saying Nolan? Our agendas conflict.
Getting ready to do errands
My goal is simple: to get out of the house in a timely manner to get our errands done. Your goal seems to be to delay this in any way possible, typically by both soiling your diaper and deciding that you need to nurse desperately. Also, on occasion, you achieve your goal by vomiting on my outfit, forcing a last minute costume change. I have to hand it to you, that is clever and effective. You have some good tactics for a baby.
The ball is in your court, Nolan. I’ll be awaiting your response. (And yes, of course I’ll explain what “ball in your court” means first).