The questions we aren't prepared to answer

Tonight as we reached the conclusion of our bedtime ritual, my husband and I and our two girls covered our eyes and chanted, “Shema, Yisrael, Adonai Eloheynu. Adonai echad.” Roughly translated: “Hear, O Israel! The Ruler is our G-d. G-d is one.”

My husband asked the girls, “What does ‘Adonai’ mean?” They both answered “G-d.”
And then, “What does ‘echad’ mean?” “One.”

Hannah spontaneously added, based on one of her books, “G-d is everywhere!” She accompanied this by circling her hand in the air. We chuckled, but she quickly turned serious. “What does G-d mean?”

We should have seen this coming. These last few weeks have been a crescendo of questioning. Sometimes she asks for detailed information that was previously not required: “What did your meeting look like?” “What will Maritza [our babysitter] do with the money?” But it is just as likely that she will point to known objects, like a bunny or a dog, in story books she has been read dozens of times and ask, “What is that?” Sometimes a simple “bunny” will satisfy her. Sometimes she will press on with, “What is that bunny doing?”

It seems to my husband and me that she is checking to see if we will give the expected answer or if she will be able to eke out a new tidbit of information in the way we phrase our answer. Perhaps she is cataloguing synonyms. Perhaps children this age are just programmed to ask questions and can’t stop themselves even when they know the answer. What is clear is that she is on a mission.

“What does G-d mean?” As a Jewish convert, I tend to defer to my husband on explaining matters of faith to the girls. I suppose I fear that my Catholic upbringing will sneak into my explanations and that I’ll unknowingly impart a Christian take on Judaism. In this particular case I must admit that I found my husband’s lack of preparation for this question (evident on his face) somewhat amusing, so I quickly stated (in front of another relative), “That’s your Daddy’s department!”

I believe he uttered “thanks,” under his breath before saying, “Well. That’s an interesting question. I just thought it would be five or six years before you asked it!” He paused to gather himself, “Well, you know that G-d helped Mommy and I make you and your sister.”

Unimpressed, “What does G-d mean?”

Taking a different tack, “Well, who helped us make your little bodies?”

“G-d.” Now he had managed to make her say ‘G-d’ as the answer to a question, and he was on more solid ground. He was able to distract her with an unrelated question, get her in her crib, and get out of the room without event. “Now no more talking. It’s time to go to bed.” Ah, the abuses of power.

He exclaimed upon shutting their door, “I’ve got to call the rabbi!” We chuckled and breathed a sigh of relief, but we both know that our cunning is only illusory. It will not be long before another toddler’s question will lay bare our inadequacies.

It's the little things: potatoes and sand

As we drove back last night after spending 5 days at their grandmother's house for Passover, my husband asked the girls what their favorite part of our stay was. This was a big question for our 2.75 year olds. They had spent each of the five days in a house with eleven relatives, including their well-loved, older cousins. Their grandmother had hosted two seder dinners for 27 people. The girls had entertained them all with their renditions of the first of the Four Questions that are traditionally asked in song by the youngest seder participants. They had been allowed to stay up well past their standard 7 pm bedtime two nights in a row. There had been see-saw building, new playgrounds, hand-cranked ice cream, and even new hand-me-down cars to ride on.

But the girls had little trouble with the question. Hannah responded with, "Eating potatoes with salt." She had so enjoyed eating the small piece of potato ritually dipped in salt water as part of the seder, that my husband had run around the room swiping unattended potatoes for her. Ma'ayan said, "Putting my feet in the sand and the water and saying, 'That's cold!!'" When we went with her cousins to the beach and boardwalk, she had headed straight for the water. While others were distracted by flashier sights, she and I took off our shoes and socks to experiment.

It strikes me that they each chose a simple sensory experience shared with a parent. We go to many lengths to entertain, educate, and love them, but it doesn't really take much at all. Definitely predictable, but surprising all the same.

A child’s fears

Earlier this week my husband related an amusing anecdote to me as we got our girls ready for bed. The teenage son of one of his coworkers had begun to use a phrase to express to his mom that he is happy to do a chore for her. This boy reportedly says, "Sure, Mom. You pushed me out of your vagina." My husband looked amused. I said, "What?? I don't get it." So he gave me an example:

Mom: "Can you put out the garbage cans?"
Boy: "Sure, Mom. You pushed me out of your vagina. I can put out the garbage cans."

This was apparently all said in fun and with a certain amount of sincere gratitude. I asked if the mother minded. He said, "No." Hmm, I thought.

Then the fun began.

My 32 month-old daughter, Hannah, had listened to this whole exchange, and we both now noted her concerned look. She said, "What did Daddy say?"

"I was talking about a friend’s son."

"No. What did Daddy say?" He then tried to put her off with a different anecdote he had told about the same boy.

"No. What did Daddy say about 'pushing?'"

"I was talking about how when mommies have babies in their bellies that they push them out so they can be born."

"No. What did Daddy say about 'vagina?'"

Cornered. "Well, mommies and girls have vaginas."

Upset, "No. What did Daddy say about 'pushing'...'baby'…" Face contorting into a cry, "…'out'…'garbage cans?!'" As she spit out the last words she began to sob loudly and collapsed into my arms and put her head on my shoulder.

I held her tightly and rocked her, trying to explain through her sobs that babies don’t have anything to do with garbage cans, that we loved her, and that we were keeping her forever.

It’s hard for me to think of a time that she was more intensely overcome with sadness at the mere thought of something. I can’t get it out of my head that Hannah apparently feared that we were going to put her out with the garbage. This is a little girl who has a stay-at-home mom. Her father has been home in time to put her to bed every night but two of her life. We shower her with affection, and she freely gives it back. We talk about our past, our present, and our futures together.

It has made me think about how vulnerable children must feel. That Hannah’s fears were so easily brought to the surface, even while we gave her milk, changed her diaper, held her, and began our familiar and cherished bedtime rituals, gives me some insight into how easily a child’s sense of security can be compromised.

I’m trying to hold her a little more closely. And I’ve told my husband he can’t bring home anymore stories from that coworker.

Waking from afternoon nap screaming

Another recent question from my local parents of twins board:

One of my 2 yr old sons on most days wakes up from his nap screaming at the top of his lungs and is inconsolable for up to 30-40 minutes. We have watched him during sleep and it seems to happen all of the sudden - he'll be in a deep sleep one minute & screaming the next. It only happens during his nap time and never during the morning. Our doctor seems to think it's a bad dream or night terrors. Does anyone have experience with this and if so what do you do? My husband & I are usually so frazzled by the end of the episode since he's really inconsolable.

We also have one girl who would awake from her PM nap inconsolable. Our pediatrician said the most important thing was that we do whatever was necessary for us to survive this unpleasant, but temporary, ordeal. Now at 2.5 years, she very rarely does it, or at least not to the same afternoon-shattering degree. Nothing was a reliable fix while it was happening, but giving her ice cubes to suck on (in those little mesh bags with a handle) or getting her outside gave us the most frequent success. Getting in the bathtub with her also sometimes provided some relief. (Anything that dramatically changed sensory input seemed most likely to help.)

It’s hard to think, much less do anything, while your child is screaming inconsolably. And it’s even harder if another child wants to be held and is being upset by the screaming. Having things set up can help -- whether that's the stroller set up and ready to go with milk, snacks, jackets etc, or filling the bath before you even pick anyone up or putting on a video for the non-screaming child while you attend to the screamer. I sometimes would put the screamer in an Ergo carrier (like a Bjorn, but on your back) so she was right next to me but I still had my hands free to deal with the other one or to get out the door. My nerves/eardrums could only handle short spells of that so it was important to be ready to go.

It’s worth discussing the episodes with the child and any upset siblings when everyone feels better. If they are verbal, they can share any fears they might have with you. At the very least, you can explain that you’re sorry, but that sometimes kids wake up unhappy. Let the children know that you will do your best to comfort the upset child, but that sometimes it just takes a little time or a change of scenery to feel better. If you have cried or gotten frustrated, explain your tears and behavior, making it clear that you are not mad at the child.

If it's any consolation, my pediatrician explained it simply as, "Everyone can wake up a little cranky and disoriented from a nap." Perhaps too simple an explanation, but it can be helpful to remind yourself that it will pass. Hang in there.

When one lap isn't enough

I answered this question on my local parents of twins board today:

Has anyone had the experience of both children needing to be held first thing in the am and not tolerating mommy holding the other child at the same time? My children are 19 months, boy/girl. This morning we had a giant painful meltdown. And it's not only first thing in the am. It can happen at other times when they're tired. Any advice?

Our basic approach to this has been a simple, "There is always enough room on Mommy's (or Daddy's) lap for two babies." We repeat it like a mantra. If one insists on screaming, pushing, etc., we won't hold that one at all. If they both are screaming to be held separately, no one gets held. We make it clear that screaming and pushing get you nothing.

On the rare occasion that some solo comforting really seems to be called for, I'll give two minutes of snuggling first to one and then the other. They are used to my watch beeping for turns about other things, so they get it. In general, they prefer to share me than to have to spend two minutes not being able to be held at all.

It also helps if they know that they will get your lap to themselves at regular intervals, say while one of them is with a sitter or partner. When both my husband and I put the girls down together (which is almost every night), each girl is entitled to be held by themselves by one of us (on a rotating basis). Not everyone has the luxury of one adult per child at bedtime, but it's worth finding times in the week where they don't have to share you.

When I do hold them together, especially when I know it's not their preference, I whisper sweet things to each separately that the other can't really hear. It helps establish their own "territory," acknowledges that I get them as different people, and fosters a personal relationship with them as individuals.

Good luck! One Mom