This week Little Mama really wanted cupcakes, but I was too busy to make her some. When we went to the grocery store (hungry, always a mistake – I might be able to skip grocery shopping next week!), I agreed to buy a six-pack of decorated cupcakes from the bakery – she was thrilled. “Two per customer,” I said, and “only one per day.” She and I enjoyed our two, but GB isn’t a fan of daily sweets, so on Day Three he still had one left. Sweet as could be, Little Mama asked him for the cupcake, and of course he gave it to her. She sat at her tiny table and chair, excited with her bonus dessert. Until she looked up and saw her daddy having ice cream. Then all heck broke loose, “I didn’t want a cupcake! I wanted ice cream!” Then she did something I found astonishing. She smashed the cupcake and then stomped into the kitchen to throw it away. Are you kidding me? Little Mama throwing away perfectly good cake?
Claire Dederer compares living with a three-year-old to having a terrible breakup – “Irrational tirades and operatic flights of rage are tempered with appeasing manipulation.” It’s a fun ride though, no? I read Chapters 15-19.
She mentions date night with her husband in this section (evidently her husband is going through something, possibly depression, during this point in the book, and she isn’t being much help to him): “Date night, like any kind of enforced fun, bore little resemblance to actual fun.” Sad. The other night I looked across the pile of stuff on the couch separating me from my husband (magazines, papers, books, remote controls, kid jewelry, washed and empty Dora yogurt containers, Wonder Woman costume…embarrassing) and thought maybe we should start doing a date night of some sort. So much for that. (We’ll think of something. I guess cleaning up the sofa wouldn’t hurt.)
Their daughter is getting ready to start kindergarten, and they check out every school in the Seattle area to find the perfect fit for their perfect little Lucy. I felt a tiny stab of jealousy because we are very limited in our kindergarten choices – the nearest actual “big city” is over an hour away, and it’s pretty slim pickings in our immediate area. [EDIT: I do not mean that we have terrible kindergartens here, just that we don't have lots of choices - Montessori, Tools of the Mind, dual immersion, Waldorf, etc., that they have in larger cities. I think I would be tempted to look into private schools if we had tons of private school options.] Lucy and her parents settle on a co op kindergarten, which vaguely reminded me of Sudbury Valley School, where there is no structured curriculum. I also reminded myself that I have always said my kids will attend public school, and GB agrees with me, which brings me to another point she mentions in this section – having a gifted child is a great excuse to send your kid to private school even if you have always considered such a thing a politically incorrect thing to do. She talks about how the children of all of her friends somehow managed to place between the 98th and 99th percentile on the kindergarten placement test – gifted children, every one. Oh well. Maybe it’s for the best that our choices are limited.
Oh. About yoga. Claire Dederer becomes a vinyasa enthusiast – I haven’t done “vinyasa” yoga, but I have done ashtanga – a lot – and vinyasa sounds pretty similar, where you do part of a sun salutation between each pose (that’s where the somersault comes in once in awhile). I felt really uncomfortable reading this part, and I think that’s because it reminded me of myself – I want my yoga to be really hard, so hard that takes every last ounce of my ability to accomplish it. And because I have always gravitated toward the more difficult types of yoga (Bikram and ashtanga/power yoga), it does bad things to my self esteem when the “easier,” more gentle kinds of yoga are too hard for me.
But I also remembered the first time I ever did ashtanga with a teacher – he did NOT go through the entire sequence with us. He skipped the postures that were too hard, and eased us in over the first several weeks. And I didn’t feel bad, even though I knew from my home practice (I used a book
– that was before you could just Google a DVD) that he was not showing us every pose. I don’t know, something might be shifting me in – I think I’m finally getting ready to try. I hope I am.
Scroll down for other posts about Poser:
Part 1: Poser: My Life in Twenty-Three Yoga Poses, by Claire Dederer
Part 2: Lonely Books
Part 3: Imperfect People are Just My Type
Part 4: Smashed Cupcakes and Date Night
Part 5: Running Away From Home
Part 6: Yoga Teachers, Feminism, and Big Words