Paying Attention

It was, on the whole, a pretty laid-back day. Writing, frankly, took up most of my time. Then, reading. Everything.

I probably seem like a very negligent mother. I am really inattentive in this department. I can't count the number of times he's gotten into the change table drawer and pulled out all sorts of things that, frankly, Poison Control would probably call Child Services if they knew what has been inside his mouth. I can't tell you how many baby wipes I have lost to him just throwing them around the nursery like they're confetti. I don't mind drawing a bath for him and cleaning behind his ears, but once that's done, it is a special kind of torture to have to sit there and watch him play. It's endearing, sure, but it's also mind-numbingly boring. I'm not doing a very good job with potty training either; how can I possibly expect him to sit still long enough for a bowel movement, when I can't manage to sit still with him? And he arguably has more energy than me.

For instance, at this exact moment, I am absorbed in writing. What is he doing right now? Playing with a comb and a tube of baby toothpaste... BRB...

And I wouldn't have even noticed that if I wasn't trying to make a point. I'm really not that good at paying attention to my kid. There are lots of mommy internet memes out there that assure me that this is normal. Toddlers are supposed to unravel the entire roll of toilet paper all over the room and eat rash creme. At least, it's a normal thing for them to do that they're totally not supposed to do.

But my doubt really seeps in when I just don't understand what's going on with him. Is he hungry? Tired? In pain? Is he demanding a specific thing? Just wants attention? This was always my biggest fear, even before I gave birth. How do I even decipher his needs and wants, when he doesn't even have any language (or, as is the case now, barely has any)? For instance, yesterday Fiver woke up from his nap screaming, startling me, and I went straight to him and took him out of the crib. He was quiet, almost as if he was still half asleep, and when I tried to put him down in the nursery, he clung to me, so I just continued to hold him. I was a little annoyed by this, because I just wanted to get back to writing, but I figured if I held him for a bit longer, he would finish waking up and leap from my arms, ready to continue playing. But he didn't. He screamed if i tried to put him down, and when I got tired of standing there with him, I sat down with him laying on my chest, just waiting for him to get that usual little burst of energy he gets to run off and play. But he didn't, he just laid against me, like he was sick or something, and I started to worry. It was especially strange when he would just start kicking his legs in violent spurts, then immediately return to the calm, lethargic state he was in. I couldn't figure it out. I called Jesse into the room and asked him to hold the baby, just to see if it made any difference. He seemed fine, equally lethargic, and sat for a while before reaching down to me again.

At a complete loss, I just started asking him, "Are you still tired little guy, wanna go back to bed? Wanna go play? Go get a pony, you wanna play with your ponies? Are you okay little guy?" All the while he's just staring off into the distance, completely slack in my arms. "You want a snack?" And immediately, he lights up. He sits up in my lap, turns to me, looks me in the eyes, and starts babbling.

I felt so stupid. It should have been obvious to me. He'd barely had anything for breakfast, and it should have been my first guess well before assuming he was sick. So I brought him out to the kitchen and started preparing things for him with Jesse. But first, I made a Hot Pocket, because I was hungry too (my appetite has been pretty stable for the last few days, a good sign). While Jesse was making something for the baby, Fiver was demanding everything we were eating. He climbed into my lap while I was trying to eat and said, "A bite? A bite?" I was not inclined to share my food, but how can you say no to that? I have to reward him for using words, after all. This whole incident from earlier would have gone a lot more smoothly if he had just said "Hungry. Hungry."

I worry about my inattentiveness because I'm pretty sure it's the reason he yells and screams and throws things as much as he does. Since I'm in my head so much and always so absorbed in whatever I'm doing, he pretty much HAS to do those things to get my attention sometimes. Even if I find it annoying, it does work to get my attention. And I can't just ignore him when he does it, because he's usually trying to get my attention for a legitimate reason. He's not just "being needy"; he actually needs things. Even if he's just bored and wants attention, that's still a legitimate need. But if he learns that that is the way to get people's attention when you need something, he's going to be in a lot of trouble when he goes to school. He'll be running around, throwing things, screeching, hitting people in the face and knocking their glasses off... I pity the teacher. Chances are they'll think he's just ADHD and want to put him on medications, like they did for my brother. And the hell if I'm going to let that happen to my child, whose brain has barely had time to develop even a fraction of the way toward maturity.

The problem with training him out of those bad habits is that it will take a ton of attention on my part. Frankly, I just don't think I'm cut out for it. To be fair, most parents aren't. Which is why so many kids end up sedated on psychiatric medications. If one of us needs to be on medication to treat an attention deficit, it'd be better if it was me than him. But me? On medications? That's an entirely different can of worms.

Hopefully it'll just get easier as he learns words. For now, all I can do to discourage the negative behavior is grab his arm when he hits me in the face and firmly tell him, "No. You do not hit people." When he screams, tell him firmly (trying very hard not to yell myself), "Fiver, do not scream." And when he throws things, firmly tell him, "Stop throwing things." After correcting him, I still need to help him fulfill his needs - that's my job, after all - but I can only hope these corrections are more than just platitudes.