I have belonged to an online community for women experiencing pregnancy after IVF since I was pregnant with my son. Though I have actually only met two of them in real life, I consider many of them friends and value their opinions highly. It's a unique mixture of intelligent, thoughtful, well-educated women bonded by a heartbreaking journey followed by the happiness of succeeding at one of life's fundamental joys. Being pregnant after failing for so long to either become and/or stay pregnant, while wonderful, can be really scary. Years of failure condition you to believe it will always be that way. You are painfully aware that it could all be taken away at any moment. The early days of parenting, I believe, are a shock for anyone. As it turns out, it is not a Hallmark commercial: calm and adoring mother, simply glowing in the light of her new little cherub, holding sleeping said cherub closely to her overflowing breasts while proud, admiring papa stands by ready to help in any way necessary as a soft light spills ever so gently through the sheer, billowing curtains. Noooo, not quite. And this can be a very big shock to someone who has been dreaming of and praying for this scene with increasing fervor over the course of years. So this community of women is a fantastic source of support and information for those of us navigating through a situation which often nobody we know in real life has.
In any case, there is a saying on the board oft-quoted to new moms who are somewhat dismayed to find that they spend all day caring for baby and the moment Dad walks in the door, baby couldn't care less if Mom is around or not. "Daddy is Disneyland." This is often true. Mom fixes boo-boos. Dad is fun. Mom cooks meals. Dad is fun. Mom finds the favorite shirt. Dad is fun. You get the idea. But, you know, that's not always a bad thing. Parents are different for a reason and having the different influences of each in a child's life is healthy and balancing, I believe. And, at least in our household, Dad has earned his Disneyland status.
After my last post, I had a little chat with myself about my lack of patience, did some reading on toddler behavior and discipline and woke up the next morning calmer and ready to respond to two-year-old-ism with a calm yet firm, rational yet loving approach. Additionally, I informed Disneyland that he would have to take Toddler to the park from time to time and give Mom a break. Which he happily agreed to. I also asked that he start giving baths since the transition from play to bath was a guaranteed battle at a time of day when I am generally running low on patience. He agreed to this as well. So the first night, instead of my method of giving a 5-minute warning, 4-minute warning, 3-minute warning, 2 minute warning, 1-minute warning, 30-second warning, etc. and then declaring it time for a bath, only to be met with a very angry toddler, towing said toddler up the stairs, wailing all the way... INSTEAD of all that, he simply said, "Hey, Toddler (not his actual name, you understand), race you upstairs!" and took off running. And heck if it didn't work. Second night, same thing. No crying. In fact, he GIGGLED all the way up the stairs. Well, duh! Why didn't I think of that? So Disneyland has saved the day (or rather, the night time routine). And I am fine with that. Peaceful evenings, happy Mommy. Thank God for Disneyland Daddy.
I am also happy to report that another bit of wisdom from my online community is also true. "Toddlers are like dogs. They can smell fear." Once I had a more solid plan for dealing with the tantrums and my frustration, he sensed that I am no longer afraid and hasn't even bothered. We're down from 3 meltdowns an hour to one a day. Haven't even had a time out in two days. I know that every day won't be so easy, but I feel like I've had a minor victory and that's enough for me.
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