Catching up

Going to have to write this in stages, since it's almost the end of naptime, and I have to make dinner early so we can go out and get cavities.

So about the time we went to the beach (beginning of September), I realized that somebody had flipped Liza's switch from "clingy and sensitive" to "bordering on normal." It was a shock, since she'd been at her previous setting since birth, and it took some getting used to.

I took her to the first day of preschool, and she was all, "I'll see you around noon, mother, although I may be a little late - Luke and I might stop after school and get a glass of milk." No tears, no velcro-baby, nothing. True, there was only one other kid there, and it was only for an hour, but I was so relieved. Hurrah! May the massive productivity one morning a week commence!

We stayed at my parents' house for a week, and she was all, "I love this room, I love this new bed, I think I'll eat whatever Grandma fixes for me and not even try to play in the cat litter." Huh?

I took her to story time at the library, and there were 10 other kids and their mothers in there too, and she had a history of complete screaming meltdowns at the thought that someone might want to read to her and sing songs with her. This time, though, the first class went smoothly, and she got an ovation for her overly-loud rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

She met the kids of some folks I had met through an online mothers' group, and they played nicely, and Liza was even trying to jolly along the kids who were more shy than her. More shy than her? Wait, that's never happened before.

About the time I noticed her changed behaviour and started gloating about it, somebody flipped the switch back, of course. We were back to "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOOOOOOOL! I WANT TO STAY HERE WITH YOUUUUUUUUUUU!" And, "But I want that cow, and he said no! I will now have a complete screaming meltdown at the library, and you will have to carry me out of the library kicking and screaming and throwing things, at which point I will continue to scream in the car for 15 minutes, because I want that cow!"

Bedtimes started creeping later again, and she started giving up naps occasionally, and things generally went to crap. You wouldn't believe the things we had to do to brush her teeth or comb her hair. Once again, it's a good thing she's cute, because otherwise she'd have been on the first bus out of here.

After a few days of "well, maybe she'll get better again," I resigned myself to switching back to velcro baby mode, including lots of coersion and bribery and warnings of exactly what to expect from new (and not so new) situations. After two weeks of teary preschool classtimes, culminating in a third week when I thought she was going to throw up, she was so upset about going, I went back to the beginning and sat in on the class with her. I stayed for an hour, then made up an excuse to leave for the rest of the class. She stopped crying after the first 15 minutes we were there, and while she wasn't exactly participating in all the activities, she was at least happy to play by herself with some of the toys.

The next week I once again got the "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOOOOOOOOOL" business at breakfast, and I explained to her that she didn't have to stay, but we needed to drop off the treat bags Miss Donna was going to use at the Halloween party. That at least got her in the door, and I only had to stay for 30 minutes or so. Today I had to physically carry her into the room, but she was fine once we got there, especially once she found out there would be trick-or-treat time a little later, and I left after 15 minutes and she barely noticed. So I think we're making progress, albeit slowly.

The good news is that she's back to being a bit more outgoing again, and I think I know why. We noticed that her bottom molars have finally broken through - I'm guessing that the recent setback to velcro mode was a teething thing. No sign of the upper molars yet, so I guess we get to go through this at least once more in the coming months.

I think Liza is always going to be a little more tentative than some kids her age, which is fine with me. I'd rather have a child that thinks things over and checks out the situation before deciding to join in. I think more impulsive kids probably end up in the emergency room more often, whereas mine won't let go of my hand in the parking lot because "Oh no! Maybe car! Liza might get bumped by car. Ouch! Mommy sad. Liza sad."

Of course, this is also the kid who finally learned how to jump into our arms in the pool without holding our hands and then demonstrated for her father that evening by jumping face-first off of the fourth step on our family room stairs. And when she got her wind back, she brushed herself off and tried to do it again, because obviously she'd done something wrong.