Happy "No" Year

So, now that we’ve survived last week’s ills, chills and spills I can return to my regularly scheduled diatribe on the evolution of Finley…. The “Finolution,” if you will.

The last part of December and early January saw marked improvement on her mobile abilities. She has become and expert crawler and can pull herself up and zip around the coffee table with no problems. Her vocal skills are also changing and she has added many more sounds to her already growing incoherent vocabulary. But an all new ability has reared its head in our household and we’re not sure we like its arrival. It has come to our attention that we are raising a Diva.

That’s right. Forget the first tooth or the first steps. Finley’s new thing is to sport an attitude. Okay, so she’s a baby and she really doesn’t know any better(or does she?), but when our little angel becomes "Prissy Missy," it’s not a lot of fun.

Of course, this was all inevitable. In her first ten months of life, she’s pretty much gotten everything she wanted, when she wanted it. But now that we’re actively taking things away or keeping her from things, she’s got no way to respond other than to let the tears fly. If you look at it from her point of view, it’s all she’s got. She can’t ask us for anything. She can’t understand why we’re taking the TV remote from her or why she can’t stick her hands in the DVD player. So why not do what she does best… (Well, aside from pooping, anyway) …just furrow up those little brows and scream bloody murder.

Most of the time, we can replace the object of her affection with a new, shinier and/or noisier object. But if she gets on a roll, it may take a bit to calm her down. I have a feeling that if someone were to one day create a device to translate babies’ cries into words, tirades like hers would only be safe on cable television.

It starts out innocently enough. One of us sets something, like a remote, on the table. In her little mind, she’s thinking “That thing MUST be very important if the big people always have it… I wonder why they grab it so much and more importantly… I wonder what it tastes like?” So off she scoots, crawling and pulling herself up to the coffee table. Then suddenly, the big daddy hand comes in, snags the new prize and replaces it with the same old building block she’s been gumming all day.

Right away, it’s the end of the world. It’s not just a cry, but a wail of pain. “How could you do this to me? ME! I will never be the same if I don’t have that shiny thing.” If you’re not quick enough to respond to the first leg of the tantrum, she’ll move on to the more dramatic round… the big, deep breath portion of the tear fest.

This particular feat can be part scary, part funny. This is where she sucks in so much air between cries that she can’t quite let it out - My sister perfected this act as an infant to the point where she would pass out from not letting any air out. Scared my parents to death - But once, she comes around and gets that deep breath cry out it’s quite a doozy. It’s got that touch of revenge that says “Now look what you’ve done. I’m letting the whole world know how mean you are to me.”

My favorite part is the final part, as she begins to calm down. The breathing returns to normal, but there are little pockets of anger like she’s saying “Okay, I’ll be calm… but don’t EVER do that again! Things are fine, I’m better now… HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? I’m good. Let me catch my breath. MEANIES!!!”

Of course if you get her what she wanted she turns into the sweet little thing that would never dare shed a tear or show anger. You know, the kid she is around every one else.

So now we’ve begun the journey into the land of “No.” She doesn’t quite understand it… We think. She’ll crawl up to the DVD player and one of us will sternly say “Finley… No.” And she does what kids for centuries have done… she turns to us slowly and smiles. This is why I don’t totally believe she doesn’t know what “no” means.

And every five minutes, she’s back up to the DVD player. And every five minutes we’re pulling her away and plopping her down amidst her toys. Sometimes she is fine. Sometimes she’ll let out a little whimper. Obviously it’s a bit frustrating to do all of this over and over again, but it’s more frustrating to me that I can’t explain WHY I’m moving her away from this highly interesting thing. But she’s terrible at speaking and I’m not fluent in baby talk, so we’ll just have to meet halfway.

And that’s how we learn. Both the parent and the baby. As much as I hate hearing her cry and curse us in baby language, we’re at the delicate point of making sure not to spoil. So sometimes you just have to let her go to town. And it’s really not that bad. She’s not constantly freaking out, because there really isn’t that much she can get into. It’s just the idea that this is only the beginning. Right now, I can deal with her little tirades and tantrums. At this age, she’s fairly easy to distract and can turn the waterworks off pretty quickly. Plus, most of the time, she’s just tired and cranky. And scooping her up and setting her in her crib is not only a bit of a time out, it can lead to a much needed nap.

But talk to me in thirteen years. We’ll see how well I can deal with her tirades and tantrums. AND, we’ll see who will want to lay down for a nap when she’s done. My bet… It’s this guy.