Sunday, May 9, 2010
As many of you know, I am an older *cough*41*cough* mother of a two year old. By the time that you get to this age, there are many things that you've forgotten about the simplicity of life. It doesn't take long around a toddler to be reminded of those things, and then start appreciating again.
As a mother, I feel like I've learned a lot. Don't get me wrong, I learn a great deal from the older girls, but the toddler serves as a daily reminder to just...relax.
10 Things I've Learned from My Toddler
1. Wake up early. Have you ever noticed how toddlers wake up with the sunrise, most often bounding out of bed with a smile and an immediate purpose? Yeah. Be that way more.
2. Eat only when you're hungry and until you're full. Watch a toddler closely at lunch or dinner. When you can get them to eat, they eat exactly what they want, until they are full, and then they stop. Think how much better our diets would be if we lived by that same principal.
3. Don't be afraid to show emotion. If you're mad, be mad. If you're happy, be happy. E is really into telling me her emotion right now. One day I thought, "Wouldn't it be much easier on relationships if you could just say, 'I sad.' like a two year old?"
4. Hug hard. Hug often. Doesn't it make you feel fantastic how a little person will run at full speed just to fling themselves into your arms and hug you tight? Just think how great your other loved ones would feel if you showed that same intensity.
5. Leave your toys out. I think many of us (especially moms) are so set on making sure that everything looks perfect that we miss out on some key times. If leaving the dishes in the sink overnight means time outside on a summer evening with the family then there's no contest.
6. Don't spend time with people you don't like. Have you ever noticed how a toddler will not only refuse to spend time with someone they don't like, but they'll also tell you? Well, you don't have to go that far, but do realize your time is precious. Don't waste it with people you don't care about (and vice versa).
7. Use "NO!" like you mean it. If you don't want to do something (or can't), just say no. And then mean it.
8. Idolize someone. Toddlers look up to people who are important to them because they are caring and they, in general, teach them something. Who do you idolize?
9. Eat with your hands. As adults, we're so afraid of getting dirty...why? Eat with your hands. Run in the rain. Jump in a pile of leaves. You'll be amazed how liberating these things can be for you.
10. Sing. Often. If there's one thing that I will always remember about my toddler, it's that she sings ALL.THE.TIME. It doesn't matter if we're in the supermarket, walking into church or she is in the classroom at school. You know how much hearing someone sing makes you smile?
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
She's two.
She goes to school two days a week.
Anyway.
One of the things the teacher said was that "Ella serenades them all at naptime with one or two songs before going to sleep.”
This wasn’t especially surprising because 1) she comes from a long line of musicians (his side, not mine), and 2) she sings and/or plays “instruments” ALL.DAY.LONG. at home.
However, it did send me into fits of giggles in the car wondering exactly what E sings to the classroom each time.
Right now, she’s really into singing Pink’s “So what? I’m still a rock star. I’ve got my rock moves…” (except the Chippettes version, of course).
Was this her naptime lullaby, or did she choose one of the others in her two-year-old repertoire?
As with any child, E has her own…well…adaptation of songs.
As I’ve mentioned before, one of her favorites is Beyonce’s “All the Single Babies” (known as “All the Single Ladies” to most of you) complete with video-like hand motions. (She hasn’t seen the video, but I might’ve shown her a move or two…)
However, the one that really made me snort thinking of her singing it to the class is a preschool Bible song called, “Rise and Shine.”
The song starts like this, “Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory.”
However, E sings, “Rise and shine and give God the Brobee, Brobee.”
(In case you didn’t know, Brobee is character from Yo Gabba Gabba.)
And these, my friends, make up the songs my daughter is singing to her preschool class.
And now I’m wondering exactly what kind of “conferencing” the teachers are doing about E’s parents?
And then I think, "So what? We're still rock stars. At least we've got our rock moves..."
Monday, April 12, 2010
1. I'm grateful for the flexibility in a WAHM schedule where I can take day time to spend doing fun things with the munchkin, and
2. I'm especially grateful for the blessing of another wonderful daughter added to our family.
As we're sitting at the park on a long, bench swing, I tried to hold my toddler's hand. Sad that she pulled away I said, "I would like to hold hands. Some day very soon you won't think it's cool to hang out with me, and even worse, you probably won't even like me very much."
To which she replied in a perfect two year old retort?
"Hahahahaha! I know, mommy, I know..."
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
It is, by far, my best 'accomplishment' in life. However, it is also the hardest thing I've ever done.
I've alluded to it before--that strange, secret code of motherhood perfection that prohibits us from really talking about what is going on with us, our kids and our life since Us + Kids = Someone Else's Life
Well, I'm going to break that code, and I'm just going to say it right up front:
I don't like sharing my chocolate chip cookies with my toddler.
And while we're at it? I don't like
...giving up my television shows for the same episode of Elmo OVER&OVER&OVER again, or
...sticky fingers inside my Diet Coke glass to fish out pieces of ice, or
...listening to the same children's CD EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. in the car, or
...not having a good night's rest in two years because my 'mom ear' is in the permanent ON position, or
...meltdowns at grocery stores, or
...hearing "MINE!" 4,372 times per day (even when it doesn't apply).
There's more, but you get the point.
Does this mean that I don't cherish motherhood as the amazing blessing that is? Of course I cherish it. Heck, I even enjoy it.
Does it mean that I'm human? I'm guessing so, and here's how I know:
You email me to tell me that you agree.
You don't post it on my blog in the public comments (lest someone see what a 'horrible' mom you are), and you certainly don't say it to my face.
But you do use that lovely anonymity of the Internet as a shield.
And that's OK with me. I'll take a hit for the team because there are those who 'unsubscribe' whenever I do a post like this, and those of you who 'whisper' at groups and play dates.
But you're not fooling anyone.
In a recent post, I revealed how I secretly wished the school would just handle potty training so I wouldn't have to do it. A potty training expert commented, "I read potty training stuff for a living and this might be the most awesomely honest thing I've ever read. Good for you."
If this blog is nothing else, it's honest.
So, I know you're out there.
And I know you don't like sharing your chocolate chip cookies, either.
Even if you don't want to admit it.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Us, too.
All you need to do is create a mailbox, and the construction is pretty simple.
- A shoebox (or a box with a removable lid)
- Wrapping or craft paper
- Tape
- Scissors
- Old Valentine cards (works just as well with leftover birthday cards, Christmas cards, or just plain envelopes)
- Be sure to use a shoebox or other box with a removable lid. The toddler needs an easy way to get the "mail" out so they can start over again!
- Test that the cards fit into the slots before wrapping the lid. You don't want to have a frustrated toddler when they can't get the cards into the slots.
- Toddlers love to color and work with stickers. This project is easy enough that the toddler can help with the entire process, but especially the decorating!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
I have a little secret:
I'm not really interested in potty training our toddler.
If I were a better mom, I would've taken hold of the poopy reigns when she showed an interest two months ago at school. The teachers were telling me things like, "Ella asked to poop on the potty and then she did it!"
Even worse, they were writing things on her daily progress report like "Sat on potty three times!"
Instead, I was just *secretly* hoping that they would take care of it at school and she would *magically* come home one day and be potty trained.
When that didn't happen, we I decided it was time.
Now, one week before her second birthday --the same week we transitioned her to a "big girl" bed and the same week we took away most of her bottle privileges -- it's time to poop on the big potty!
(Because, hey, why not take away all comfort items and force milestones all at once?!? Tomorrow I'm making her get a job...).
Of course, I did some research and settled on the "Three Day" potty training method (for obvious reasons, er, see above), with some modifications (because the entire world is better with Jackie modifications).
We sat on the potty at least 3.4 million times today, with no results.
None.
Nada.
Zilch.
The big loser ZERO.
She went once in her pull-ups, hid in the corner once and peed in her pants and then peed in the kitchen chair.
This is the same girl that has to go around the house flushing all the toilets 3,762 times per day.
So after being tucked away in bed tonight (where she's sure to poop in the diaper we put on her any minute now), hubby says, "Maybe it's too early?"
To which I replied?
"On the contrary. I think it's too late."
Oh well, maybe she'll show an interest again when she starts dating...
Friday, January 29, 2010
Today I dropped Ella off at school -- back for the first time since THE EVENT.
Although she was a little shy at first, she was happy to be back. I was equally happy to have her back (for several reasons).
As I was leaving, one of the teachers said, "We're SO HAPPY to have you back! You had us really scared!"
And then it happened.
Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes.
I made my way out of the classroom and down the hall with my hand pressed to my mouth, suppressing a wave of emotions.
In the parking lot, I sat in the car and sobbed for 10 minutes.
I sobbed for my baby.
I sobbed for my baby's life.
I sobbed for the possibility of her untimely death.
I sobbed because for 15 days (15!) I hadn't let myself absorb what had really happened.
That's the weird thing about being the strong one, sometimes you forget to let yourself sob.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
As many of you know, we recently had a traumatic event with our soon-to-be two year old toddler, Ella. Because of all the emails, texts, and calls, I just wanted to take a moment to update everyone.
After (what will now be dubbed forever as) THE EVENT, we made it home from the emergency room around 1 a.m. on Friday, January 15. Ella had no more seizure episodes and her fever was lower.
Friday, as well as Saturday, she was O.K. Not well, but as O.K. as a sick little baby could act.
Sunday her fever started to spike again. Late afternoon, she started to become extremely lethargic, as she was before her seizure on Thursday. Not taking any chances, we loaded up and headed back to the E.R. (our pediatrician is on vaca for 10 days and it was a holiday weekend, anyway).
Turns out? Ella has RSV, or Respiratory Syncytial Virus. You may (or may not) know, but RSV is an extremely contagious virus that can be potentially life-threatening to infants and toddlers. You can read more about it at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, but I won't bore you here.
In a nutshell, we were transferred to another hospital (yep, that's two ambulance rides and two hospitals in three days for those of you keeping score) where they kept Ella overnight. Her fever stayed very high until Monday morning. After that, she started to run around the room and play and eat. We were were released late afternoon.
She still has a cough, but no more fever, and thankfully, no more seizures.
She feels much, much better than her parents, who are now both sick from her germiness.
Thank you, everyone, for your concern, thoughts and prayers. It was so overwhelmingly supportive that I'll be writing a blog post about it when I can wrap my thoughts around the enormity of it.
By the way, do you know how long it takes to feel like you've showered all the germs off of two ambulance rides and two hospitals?!?
Friday, January 15, 2010
Life is not meant for a mother to experience giving her child CPR. But what are you to do when your 23-month-old child is not breathing, lying lifeless and blue on the kitchen floor?
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Yesterday wasn't abnormal, for the most part. Ella awoke with a cough and runny nose, but little more. We went out, she ate some french fries, she sang in the supermarket -- all things that she would do on any random day.
After waking from a nap later, she had a croupy cough and her fever started to rise. We are not new to the baby fever thing, having fought fevers as high as 105 with her, so I wasn't panicked. As the evening wore on, it wasn't getter better. The doctor suggested we dose her with the normal kid drugs and if her fever didn't go down before bed we take her to the emergency room.
Her fever started to go down, even if just a little. A little while later, a sudden spike and some lethargy had us worried. As I held her in my arms, she started to -- for lack of better description -- go out of it. Her eyes weren't focusing, she couldn't keep her eyelids open, her body was going limp.
And then suddenly something strange happened. She opened her eyes and looked up, not eyes rolling back, but actually looking up and focusing on something on the ceiling. When I stood up, she turned her head so she could see the same spot on the ceiling. For some reason, my actual thought was, "She's staring at Jesus." The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
I yelled for Todd to start the car to take her to the emergency room. Moments later, she clenched her teeth, she stared away, unfocused. She was obviously having a seizure. As I ran through the house with her in my arms she went totally limp.
She was unresponsive.
She was unconscious.
She wasn't breathing.
And she was turning completely blue.
Fast.
It's true what people say, things start to happen in slow motion like you're in a movie. I remember screaming in a voice I didn't even know I had, "NO GOD! PLEASE NO!" as I placed her on the kitchen floor. Her face was completely blue, her lips even bluer. There were dark, bluish-black circles under her closed eyes.
My health care training took over and I went into auto-pilot mode, alternately barking orders to Todd on the phone with 911, giving my 23-month-old daughter CPR and screaming at her to come back.
I don't know how much time elapsed, I suspect a minute or so, but it seemed like an eternity. She started breathing and the scary blue went away, but she was still out of it. I started doing things to trigger her memory. I sang Jingle Bells. I asked her about her favorite teacher at school. I used stern voice to tell her to stop it. Things that all seem ridiculous now seemed perfectly reasonable then.
We spent four hours with her in the emergency room, doing tests, keeping watch. She had a seizure. She has a sore throat. She has a cough that they're treating like croup.
Concrete evidence I can handle. A blue dying baby on my floor I cannot.
I slept in her room for the few hours that we did sleep this morning. I checked on her throughout the night and then awoke in a panic during the times I drifted off.
I was never happier than hearing, "Mama, hold you?" as she lifted her little toddler arms for me to pick her up this morning.
Things were back to normal for her, but they will never be the same for me.
Ever.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Baby cries.
This is the snowman:
This is the baby on snowman making:
(That was an hour ago. She's still curled into a fetal position.)
Wasn't that FUN, honey?!?
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Aside from having to watch her closely (she's already taken the liberty to add a new mural to the dining room wall and some sketches to the wood floor...also in the dining room), she always wants both mommy AND daddy to draw with her.
At the same time.
(Uncanny, I know...)
Monday, November 23, 2009
So I finally get around to hanging my daughter's first birthday picture in her room.
She's 21 months old now. She'll be two at the beginning of February.
So, anyway...
It's a great picture of her with sticky pink icing hands and it's framed by a mat of signatures and memories from all her guests at the party.
Today I hang it in a prominent position in her room, right across from her bed and above the sofa. You know, where she can see it when she wakes up or comes into the room.
When Ella comes into the room I say, "LOOK HONEY! Mommy hung your first birthday picture! Isn't it cuuuuuuute?!?"
Ella's reply?
In a sob, "EWWWWW! The baby's hands are yuuuuuuuucky!"
She's totally preoccupied with it in her room and feels the need to declare, on the verge of tears every time she enters her room, "EWWWW! BABY'S HANDS ARE YUCKY!"
*sigh*
Kids these days are so ungrateful.
I think I'll leave it up just to torture her...
Friday, October 23, 2009
For a little while, Ella (now 20 months) has shown interest in the big potty. She's curious to watch me "tinkle" (TMI?). She thinks it's hysterical to unroll the toilet paper. She's really interested in the flushing of the toilet.
Of which she's just learned to do.
(Fantastic.)
When I picked her up from "school" (pre-preschool) on Wednesday she was wearing her back up pants.
Uh. Oh.
On the way out, I was reading her daily report and they informed me that three different times Ella went (by herself) to sit on the potty. Lucky for me I had just that very day purchased a board book about potty training.
(Coincidence? I think not...)
So that evening, right before bed, we sat down to read the potty book. Except something wasn't right. Every time the word potty was in the book, it came out of my mouth party, which made the story go something like this:
Learning to party can be hard, but it can also be fun.
You can party like the big kids when the learning time is done.
Just watch as I teach you with your dolly Sue.
She sits on the party and you can sit there, too!
When your dolly has partied she flushes the water away.
Now she is happy and ready to go outside to play!
Going party can be fun. Learn and you will see.
Once you know how to do it, it is as easy as can be.
So practice sitting on your party a little every day.
And when you learn to use it, we will cheer a big "Hooray!"
I can't imagine why (at the end of the book) the only page Ella showed interest in was the one with the balloons on it.
I mean, what's a potty without balloons?!?
Friday, October 16, 2009, 8:21 p.m.
This year is Ella's first REAL Halloween. I mean, she was around last year, but she SO.DIDN'T.GET.IT.
I was so excited to sign Ella up for her first REAL Halloween party at our Gymboree that we attend. It was tonight. We got Ella ready and then Todd and I painted our faces (me: a bee-bug, him: a bee), donned antennae and off we all flew.
Did I mention how excited I was? So was Ella. Here she was at home "flying like a bee-bug" before the party:
Sidebar: You know how your gut tells you something but you just ignore it sometimes hoping that it will go away? When Ella got home from school, my gut was telling me that this was going to be too much for a 20 month old. She was just coming off an ear infection, she still had some sinus drainage, and school then a party made for a long day for a baby.
Remember this gut feeling...
So we get to the party and it was packed.
FUN! YAY!
Ella runs around.
FUN! YAY!
Ella climbs some stuff.
FUN! YAY!
Ella pukes in the middle of the crowded floor. And then pukes again. And then pukes some more.
FUN! YAY!
I sit in the middle of the crowded party and scrub puke off the carpet while everyone watches.
FUN! YAY!
And then Ella feels much better.
Although by then we had been labeled the "H1N1 kid" and we parted the sea of people like Moses wherever we went.
We left early.
On the way out I felt SO DISAPPOINTED. I felt disappointed for her. I felt disappointed for us. I looked at Todd and said, "It's so sad that she felt this way on her first ever Halloween party." To which he replied?
"Yeah, well, sometimes you just have to party 'til you puke. Then it's time to go..."
Enjoy this post? Nominate it for BlogHer of the Week. (It'll make me feel warm & fuzzy...)
This morning my toddler woke up with Kate Gosselin hair.
This was news to me because a) she didn't ask my permission, and b) I really loath that hair style.The best part was that we didn't even have to spend hundreds of dollars trying to hook up with Kate Gosselin's stylist. We got the hair for FREE. Apparently, all you have to do is:
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The story I'm about to tell you is true.
Some may find it disturbing.
No names have been changed to protect the innocent (and guilty).
Prior to reading, you may want to have young children log off.
Reader discretion is advised.
In a small tobacco farming town in a land far, far away (known as southwestern Virginia), there lived a poor young farm girl. One day, this farm girl had a bean. Which she shoved up her nose. No one knew about the bean until the moisture from her nasal cavity made the bean sprout. They had to take her to the doctor to remove the bean.
That girl was my grandmother.
Now, over the years, I've told and re-told this story to multiple friends and family members. Most people give me that, "Yeah. Sure. True story. OK..." look.
But my grandmother told me this story, and she was one of the most honest people I know. (Unlike my prankster grandfather who told me he had his blind eye "put out" in the war. It wasn't until years after he had died and I was an adult that my cousin -- laughing hysterically -- enlightened me by telling me he had his eye injured in a bar fight. My grandpa wasn't ever in a war. HMPF.)
So, back to my bean-nosed grandmother...
Fast-forward to tonight.
My 20-month old loves peas. She had two helpings just tonight. At some point during the second helping she loudly announced, "PEAS! MAMA!" and pointed to her nose.
Apparently veggie-shoving is hereditary.
When she gets older and tells me some story about injuring her eye in the war, I'm totally not believing it.
There were no peas nor noses injured in the writing of this post.
When you're pregnant for the first time, other moms don't talk to you about the awful mom guilt that will plague you from second one of birth all the way through...well? Who knows. Only time will tell.
Other moms like to tell you about cravings and weight gain. They like to talk to you about those tiny socks and the boo-boo bunny ice packs that are cute, but you will probably never use. They have an opinion on which diapers to use, co-sleeping, nipple cream, ways to curb nausea and which way to sleep if you want a boy vs. girl. They love to tell you about bodily functions like gas and nipple size, but they never warn you about one of the most important things:
THE. GUILT.
Before I had Ella, I had no idea about mom guilt. I mean, sure I knew about GUILT. I've slept in on Sunday mornings instead of going to church. I've cheated on some diets. (Sometimes even on Sunday mornings.) But I had no idea that becoming a parent would take guilt to a whole new unimaginable level (also known as NEVER-BEING-ABLE-TO-DO-ANYTHING-AGAIN-WITHOUT-LOSING-SLEEP-AND-GAINING-GRAY-HAIRS MOM GUILT).
I've written before about Gymboree. In case you aren't familiar, it is a "gym" for babies/kids that is built around learning concepts disguised within directed play. Or, if you're Ella, it's less about directed play and more about running around and singing to yourself and dancing in the middle while everyone else is sitting on the mat during circle time.
I've met some really great people at Gymboree -- some who are even becoming fast friends (you know who you are). I've also met a few Guilter Moms. (You may not know who you are. In order to find out, look around. You're the mom that no one is talking to...) Since Gymboree is a gathering place for (mostly) moms and kids, there's definitely going to be some throw down of guilt.
The Guilter Moms are pretty easy to spot -- they're the ones who ask you disguised simple questions in order to gauge how much smarter their child is than yours. You can tell them by the smug look they get on their face when your answer to, "Does Ella still take a bottle?" is "Of course, 17 times a day!" They then use it as an opportunity to respond with something like, "OH! Little Johnny hasn't taken a bottle since he was 7 months old and he started reading. Did I mention he's potty trained? Yeah, he has slept through the night since I taught him Latin at 4 months."
You know the ones.
Some other Good Egg Gymboree Moms and I touched recently on mom guilt. (You know who you are. Thanks for being there...) Turns out? Everyone has it. However, it doesn't just come from other moms. For some it comes from parents or grandparents. For some it comes from sisters. For some? It really does come from other moms. And those moms who make you feel bad? They're probably masking their own mom guilt.
For most of us, the mom guilt comes from the same person -- us. (Yep, that's our own self.) You are your own worst enemy. (Hey, don't take it personally, so am I.) Sometimes innocent comments from other moms are just that -- INNOCENT COMMENTS.
LET.IT.GO.
You don't have to be perfect.
You don't have to raise a whiz kid.
You do need to love and support your child. Aside from that? Everything else will fall into place.
I'm not sure when mom guilt ends. Perhaps it never does. Until then? Be gentle on yourself and other moms. And I'll try to do the same.
Ella's new "school" starts next week. We made a trip there yesterday to complete some paperwork that we owe them.
I've been trying to prep Ella for the schedule change by saying "school" every chance I get. She has no idea what I'm talking about.
She's 19 months old.
So on the trip to the school yesterday, I say, "We're almost to school!" (in an upbeat, excited way). Ella's response? "YAAAAAY!"
I look at Todd and say, "She has no idea what I'm talking about. Check this out..."
ME: We're almost to the riots!
Ella: YAAAAAAY!
ME: We're almost to the guillotines!
Ella: YAAAAAAY!
ME: We're almost to the noose-rope hangings!
Ella: YAAAAAAY!
ME: We're almost to the viral outbreaks!
Ella: YAAAAAAY!
Todd: Ooooh, let me try!
Todd: We're almost to Chlamydia!
Ella: YAAAAAAY!
Me: *glares at Todd* Now you've taken it a little too far...
Disclaimer: This author, her husband, 19 month old daughter, two other daughters, mother, cousin, doctor, veterinarian and psychic friends do not promote venereal disease. Especially chlamydia. We certainly don't condone execution devices like the guillotine or hangings. Unless it's on Barney (the dinosaur, not the store). And maybe those disrespectful working teens who say "YEP!" instead of "You're Welcome."
The 18 month old is in a No, I really don't have time to eat, thank you phase. Her favorite food for three days at lunch? Will magically no longer be her favorite food.
EVER. AGAIN.
It's so frustrating (not to mention the mental exhaustion of trying to plan not only good for you food, but to decipher WHAT good for you food will be acceptable at this meal but probably not two days from now).
As a parent you'll try anything to get your kid to eat.
ANYTHING.
So after an OK showing at breakfast, a marginal lunch and then a no-go at dinner, we were exhausted. So I did a Yo Gabba Gabba throw down.
ME: *to Ella* You know, Yo Gabba Gabba's carrots want to go to a party in their tummy...
Todd: Yeah! *singing* ♫ There's a party in your tummy, there's a party in your tummy... ♫
Ella: *looking from me to Todd* YO?
ME: *Excited! Breakthrough near!* YES! Yo Gabba Gabba! ♫There's a party in your tummy...♫
Todd: ...♫so yummy! So yummy!♫
ME: So...can the carrots go to the party in yoooooour tummy?
Ella: *looking from me to Todd* *shakes head* No Yo.
Us: *collective sigh*
