Let's fight for Mothers' Rights

Let's fight for Mothers' Rights
April 1 - 10, 2006
Tom masters his tricycle; Lisa watches unhappily from her stroller; highly awaited arrival of our granny



	Our walks gained on freshness by adding a tricycle



	Driving a tricycle is a serious business.

Sid's pessimism and paranoia are sometimes impossible to endure, but my extreme optimism may be the same way. So I bragged in my last journal how our children sleep nicely together in their room. Well, not so fast. Actually, Tommy sleeps and is relatively capable to keep quiet after going to bed, so that he does not wake up Lisa. She respects no one and proceeds with her night life. She has developed several scenarios how to present me with a passionate nighttime, and has not been dropped off at the steps of a nearby church only thanks to the fact that by three a.m. I have been lazy to put on my contacts and drive out anywhere with her. Lisa's screaming intervals are meticulously calculated -- she always keeps quiet just so I can tell myself, it's OK now, and I start to snooze off. She apparently counts on the fact that I won't let her squeal with regard to the sleeping Tom. I must say that nights when I hold her from half past eight to ten, then maybe from three to five thirty, giving up by half past six, since I won't fall asleep again, are more frequent with me than I consider humane. The important thing is, everybody has been voicing children's rights -- and what about a charter of mother's rights? Should you not know of any, I have got a few suggestions here:

A mother has the right to a minimum of six hours of uninterrupted sleep every day. If for some serious reason (e.g. a child's illness) this is not possible to achieve, she has the right to sleep it off the next day.
A mother has the right to have all children she's responsible for, attend a (pre-)school institution, or that they sleep during the day for at least two hours, and all at the same time.
A mother has the right to her morning coffee, and at least one more meal during the day without having dirty little paws yank her food from the plate, fork, or directly from her mouth. She also has the right to not be disquieted while eating by anyone consuming play-doh, waste from a basket, or drinking toilet water, or smiting a sibling in his/her head with a toy car.
A mother has the right to go at least once a day to the bathrom without someone leaning on her knees, trying to explore the toilet bowl, or demand to see with his/her own eyes whether said mother is producing any droppings.
A mother has the right to wear clean clothes -- which shall last at least half the day without being salivated or barfed on. Mothers clothing is neither for wiping hands, nor noses.
A mother has the right to not be physically or mentally tortured, and emotionally blackmailed. Yes, screaming with ultrasound at the distance of one inch from her ear DOES constitute physical torture.
A mother has the right to hold every day at least one half hour long conversation with a person who is capable to express him/herself in complete sentences, can go unattended to a bathroom, eat with silverware, button his/her shirt and makes use of the word please instead of fourious stamping or roaring, which would be a pride of HMS Queen Elizabeth II.



	Lisa enjoys this unusually pretty spring day.



	When Tommy got hungry at a party, he did not hesitate and took to the nearest plate - no matter it was someone else's

I should not be such a pessimist -- it seems that Tommy is going to hold up a part of his promises. His visits to the pre-school proceed with less unease, and the teacher herself was surprised with his progress. Perhaps Tom has understood that I will always come to pick him up. He is fully showing the incredible ability little children have, to soak up a new language -- Tommy freely converses with teachers about serious topics like the plastic spoon being white and that he wishes to sit on a green chair. At home, he sometimes surprises us with fragments of English sentences. The other day he was running around and cautioned himself "be careful!" Or he has built a tower from blocks and told himself "oh, nice!" As much beginnings of English may be difficult for him, I still think it is much better to put him through it now, before he becomes a freak, let's say, at a real school. Sid and I don't really teach our children to speak English -- we speak with an accent, and we believe it is important that they learn another language = Czech, first. With English we really count on the pre-school, and later school.

Language has not been the only positive outcome of Tom's school. When he developed a desire to use the school's green tricycle (don't ask me why, but at school he prefers a green tricycle, and avoids the blue ones), Tom has quickly learned how to operate its pedals and now he demands from us that we take him out with his tricycle (the one he has ignored for a half year). He drives virtuously; suddenly he grasped the principles of handle steering; when he's unable to take off, he pushes with his feet -- he has simply discovered a new world of fast wheels. I must say that our walks gained on freshness. Not that we would not stop by every storm drain, snail, dandelion or flattened earthworm, but at least between these individual attractions, we move at a frisky pace. It has been much harder lately on Lisa, though. The world as seen from her stroller has lost its appeal, she would like to move on her own and explore, and her evil mother won't allow that. Lizzy still only efficiently crawls on her belly, which is quite impractical for a muddy playground. Using hands and knees would not be that much better, but at least it would expose a much smaller wet (cold) area. As Lisa began to stand up and attempts to march around furniture, I am getting the feeling that she might completely skip the knee-bound phase of toddler propulsion.



	Tom rings a historical school bell at Roaring Camp - perhaps he has been developing a better approach to his own pre-school.



	Lisa rushes to get into the tub

Alas, weather has been still against us. Tom at Lizzy's age spent much time out in our back yard, but so far we had perhaps one passable day. We were invited to a celebration of little Marek's third birthday. It took place in (their) back yard, with lots of toys out on the lawn and several dozens of little children attending. Tommy occupied a car, later a tricycle, and was more or less self sufficient. He spent a part of the morning inside Marek's house by a table with toy trains. When he got hungry, he conjured a fork and quite nonchalantly began to process someone's abandoned plate of fruit. Well, real party animals know that what you devour, no-one can take away from you. Lisa surprised me -- I was wary of her hysterical bonds to me, but she was so captivated by surrounding action that she presented herself an example of a cute baby. She even let strangers hold her. Apparently she came to a conclusion that if there are so many babies around, there's no chance of danger and mama can be let out of her sight.

With her weaning, Lisa hopefully understood that daddy, too, can be sometimes useful -- he can feed her as well. Her connection with Sid is best manifested during baths. Lisa welcomes him back home in the evening and soon rushes to the bathroom. Unlike Tom, Lizzy is a real water animal. She endures head washing with a broad smile on her face, while she simply relaxes on her back on the bottom of the tub, and does not care that her little ears get submerged, or that a few drops fall on her face. We hope that Tommy will follow her example a bit -- in his case, head wash is accompanied by an acoustic expression of a pinched piglet.



	Lisa is inspecting the dishes



	Before I managed to put this journal entry to life, granny has arrived!

Whenever not aping Lizzy, Tommy can express his wishes quite clearly. As he was exploring TV set buttons and got intercepted by Sid, he a) made a very innocent face and b) started to push Sid out of the living room with a resolute "daddy wash". Simply put, Sid was supposed to be in the bathroom at this time, and not disturb Tom's plans.

We are feverishly preparing for grandmother's arrival. We even told Tom about it, who wisely nodded his head and said, "granny big 'lane" (granny will arrive on a big plane); he sometimes asks about granny going to go with us here or there. I try to quickly re-organize the house. Lisa has been moved together with Tom, Joe came to make solid, strong shelves for our and kids' closets, and now nothing prevents me from moving various things out of granny's room to other locations. It takes time, for kids don't allow me more than half hour of work a day (and then they assist me vehemently until my nerves rupture). I exiled our temporary wire-cage shelves, which used to fill our closets, into the garage, which made me clean up and re-order the garage a bit. I think that only those who own a garage, can appreciate such a heroic and superhuman deed. The rest of our planned changes (remaining windows, steps to the back yard) are suspended due to weather -- it keeps on raining. Still, all the basics are ready for the grandmother -- including my plans, to do all those things I shall be able to do while she would take care of the children. I have appointments to various doctors, I plan several meetings; I even hope that we get carried away with Sid to the point that we may go together again to a climbing gym, or perhaps to a dinner.

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