Since now my stories invariably entertwine both kids... I have a new blog that can be found at mariskaplavin.blogspot.com
I just posted my newest adventure there... so feel free to laugh at or along with me there.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Moments...
So JUST as I was planning this blog of my own called "Moments", another blogger (and friend and better writer than I) posted one called "Those Moments" about the moments in the day that make motherhood. I laughed. This woman, whom I only know online (she is the wife of a high school classmate of mine) is truly somehow my other half, my long distance BFF and someone who truly understands where I come from. I couldn't believe we were blogging the same thing at about the same time. I nearly decided to just skip this blog, but instead I dedicate it to her. Erika... this one's for you! (check out her honest take on life & motherhood at http://storyofaho.blogspot.com/).
Erika wrote hers because she often has others asking (and finds herself asking well... herself) why she had 4 kids. I came up with mine as I realized that, while my blog is often humorous (or intended to be), it is also often about the negative. The struggles, the uh-oh, the vomiting, the potty training, etc. It might make one think I don't like this little adventure called Motherhood that I've embarked on.
On the contrary, kids, I actually do LOVE this little adventure. Do I find myself asking, "why the h@#! did I do this?" from time to time? Yes. Do I often wonder if I have the emotional, mental and physical wherewithall to handle this job? Of course. But there are those moments folks, those moments that make it all worth it. You know the ones... if you froze them they'd look like moments from those feel-good family movies that you watch and think, "RIIIIIIIIIGHT, parenthood is really like that". The boy and his dad at a baseball game, the family laughing together at breakfast not a single damn hair out of place and everyone ready for school, the beach trip in perfect late-afternoon sunshine, even the supposed "horrible" moments like the mom and dad shooting eachother knowing looks over a vomiting child. Those moments. They happen and I don't want to forget them, because they are beautiful and they make this whole trip worth it.
There were a couple moments just recently where I actually stopped and thought about it. Both happened just this weekend... one with each kid.
The first was Saturday morning. It was William's first Duck football game. I cried folks, I seriously did. It was such a sweet moment. William (who is now old enough to be disappointed not to join Daddy and Pop Pop at Ducks games) has been asking when he can go to one. So this past weekend my father-in-law decides to skip the game and despite non-stop rain and recovering from surgery, Mike decides to ask William if he'd like to go to a Duck game. The look of joy, amazement and disbelief on my son's face was one I'll never forget. He was SO anxious to go that he asked about every 1/2 hour if it was time to go yet. When they did finally get ready to leave he was perfect... going potty, putting on his socks and shoes and all politeness. Then seeing the two of them, all "Ducked" out (complete with hats & ponchos), William with his Duck Lips noisemaker around his neck, hand-in-hand, leaving the house together just reduced me to tears. I hear them walking to the car and William saying, "yeah Dad! We'll have a Dude's Day. Just you & me." It KILLED me. I wanted to freeze time right there, a boy and his dad holding hands. It was beautiful.
The second moment was Saturday night. It was when Elizabeth (one might think this was a negative, but it wasn't) started getting sick. Elizabeth is an EXCELLENT sleeper, has been since she was 3 months old. She goes to sleep and STAYS that way. But Saturday night, something happened. I think it was a combination of teething and starting to get sick, because she usually sleeps even when she's sick. But on Saturday night she woke up 5 TIMES. FIVE. I would have normally been exhausted and thus annoyed, but for some reason I found myself thankful for the time to comfort her instead. She's 18 months old now and growing out of that stage where she likes to be held for any length of time. And LONG before her brother did, she grew out of the need to hold onto/sleep on mom when she feels ill. So this night, each time she woke, I found her wanting to just be in my arms and I really didn't mind the lack of sleep. The first time she woke, I was so taken aback by her wanting to be held and rocked, that I found myself crying as I held and sang her back to sleep. It took me back to when she was a tiny baby. When I held her so much and how warm and sweet it was to fall asleep together, even if it was sitting up in a rocking chair. I found myself missing those moments and even crying at the joyful thought that my sister is going to do this sometime soon as she is due with her first in November. Elizabeth's soft snoring, her looking up at me while I sang and her eyes sloooowly drooping closed while her little hand gripped my arm was just too much. The fact that something so simple as holding and singing to her (with my crappy voice) is enough to make her feel better is amazing to me. It makes me love being a mom. It made me cry. Chalk it up to hormones, lack of sleep, whatever... I'll chalk it up to loving a moment alone with my daughter, late at night, sitting in a rocking chair, holding on to each other, just the two of us breathing together.
There have been other moments, ones I wish I'd recorded. The impromptu dinner at the little league field with William as we ate corn dogs and watched about 2 1/2 little league games while the sun set. Watching William settle into his spot at the playdough table at preschool, suddenly completely unaware of us watching him as he introduced himself to other kids. The first mommy & me swim class with Elizabeth when she laid back in the water and just let me float her in a circle. Running through the neighbor's sprinklers with my kids in the wagon on the way home from the park because they were shooting over the sidewalk and I knew it would make them both laugh. Hearing Elizabeth's first unprompted "wa oooh" (love you) from her crib as I left her room at night. The perfect afternoon at the park with my husband, sister and brother-in-law where William decided that standing on top of the hill, picking flowers and watching the little league kids play ball was way better than the slides. The impromptu rush into the waves with William in Santa Monica although we had no dry clothes to change in to and it was cold as the sun set. Elizabeth walking over to William's room, pounding on the door and shouting "BUBBA!" to wake up her brother because she wanted to play with him.
Those are the moments folks. The moments you remember when the s@#! hits the fan. When you're tired, when the kids are sick, when no one naps, when you wonder if you're doing an okay job, when you can't stand repeating directions for the 100th time, when the day is too full of time outs... those are the moments you have to remember. It will all go too fast. It will all fade away and change. But those moments will make it all worth it. Those moments are why we're here... or at least why I am. :)
Erika wrote hers because she often has others asking (and finds herself asking well... herself) why she had 4 kids. I came up with mine as I realized that, while my blog is often humorous (or intended to be), it is also often about the negative. The struggles, the uh-oh, the vomiting, the potty training, etc. It might make one think I don't like this little adventure called Motherhood that I've embarked on.
On the contrary, kids, I actually do LOVE this little adventure. Do I find myself asking, "why the h@#! did I do this?" from time to time? Yes. Do I often wonder if I have the emotional, mental and physical wherewithall to handle this job? Of course. But there are those moments folks, those moments that make it all worth it. You know the ones... if you froze them they'd look like moments from those feel-good family movies that you watch and think, "RIIIIIIIIIGHT, parenthood is really like that". The boy and his dad at a baseball game, the family laughing together at breakfast not a single damn hair out of place and everyone ready for school, the beach trip in perfect late-afternoon sunshine, even the supposed "horrible" moments like the mom and dad shooting eachother knowing looks over a vomiting child. Those moments. They happen and I don't want to forget them, because they are beautiful and they make this whole trip worth it.
There were a couple moments just recently where I actually stopped and thought about it. Both happened just this weekend... one with each kid.
The first was Saturday morning. It was William's first Duck football game. I cried folks, I seriously did. It was such a sweet moment. William (who is now old enough to be disappointed not to join Daddy and Pop Pop at Ducks games) has been asking when he can go to one. So this past weekend my father-in-law decides to skip the game and despite non-stop rain and recovering from surgery, Mike decides to ask William if he'd like to go to a Duck game. The look of joy, amazement and disbelief on my son's face was one I'll never forget. He was SO anxious to go that he asked about every 1/2 hour if it was time to go yet. When they did finally get ready to leave he was perfect... going potty, putting on his socks and shoes and all politeness. Then seeing the two of them, all "Ducked" out (complete with hats & ponchos), William with his Duck Lips noisemaker around his neck, hand-in-hand, leaving the house together just reduced me to tears. I hear them walking to the car and William saying, "yeah Dad! We'll have a Dude's Day. Just you & me." It KILLED me. I wanted to freeze time right there, a boy and his dad holding hands. It was beautiful.
The second moment was Saturday night. It was when Elizabeth (one might think this was a negative, but it wasn't) started getting sick. Elizabeth is an EXCELLENT sleeper, has been since she was 3 months old. She goes to sleep and STAYS that way. But Saturday night, something happened. I think it was a combination of teething and starting to get sick, because she usually sleeps even when she's sick. But on Saturday night she woke up 5 TIMES. FIVE. I would have normally been exhausted and thus annoyed, but for some reason I found myself thankful for the time to comfort her instead. She's 18 months old now and growing out of that stage where she likes to be held for any length of time. And LONG before her brother did, she grew out of the need to hold onto/sleep on mom when she feels ill. So this night, each time she woke, I found her wanting to just be in my arms and I really didn't mind the lack of sleep. The first time she woke, I was so taken aback by her wanting to be held and rocked, that I found myself crying as I held and sang her back to sleep. It took me back to when she was a tiny baby. When I held her so much and how warm and sweet it was to fall asleep together, even if it was sitting up in a rocking chair. I found myself missing those moments and even crying at the joyful thought that my sister is going to do this sometime soon as she is due with her first in November. Elizabeth's soft snoring, her looking up at me while I sang and her eyes sloooowly drooping closed while her little hand gripped my arm was just too much. The fact that something so simple as holding and singing to her (with my crappy voice) is enough to make her feel better is amazing to me. It makes me love being a mom. It made me cry. Chalk it up to hormones, lack of sleep, whatever... I'll chalk it up to loving a moment alone with my daughter, late at night, sitting in a rocking chair, holding on to each other, just the two of us breathing together.
There have been other moments, ones I wish I'd recorded. The impromptu dinner at the little league field with William as we ate corn dogs and watched about 2 1/2 little league games while the sun set. Watching William settle into his spot at the playdough table at preschool, suddenly completely unaware of us watching him as he introduced himself to other kids. The first mommy & me swim class with Elizabeth when she laid back in the water and just let me float her in a circle. Running through the neighbor's sprinklers with my kids in the wagon on the way home from the park because they were shooting over the sidewalk and I knew it would make them both laugh. Hearing Elizabeth's first unprompted "wa oooh" (love you) from her crib as I left her room at night. The perfect afternoon at the park with my husband, sister and brother-in-law where William decided that standing on top of the hill, picking flowers and watching the little league kids play ball was way better than the slides. The impromptu rush into the waves with William in Santa Monica although we had no dry clothes to change in to and it was cold as the sun set. Elizabeth walking over to William's room, pounding on the door and shouting "BUBBA!" to wake up her brother because she wanted to play with him.
Those are the moments folks. The moments you remember when the s@#! hits the fan. When you're tired, when the kids are sick, when no one naps, when you wonder if you're doing an okay job, when you can't stand repeating directions for the 100th time, when the day is too full of time outs... those are the moments you have to remember. It will all go too fast. It will all fade away and change. But those moments will make it all worth it. Those moments are why we're here... or at least why I am. :)
Friday, September 17, 2010
Here we go again...
So I've discovered, like I did with William, that apparently I'm just a different creature as a mother. I do things at different times or in different ways than most moms and I get some very curious looks/comments because of it. But this is me, I can't help it. No one gave me a manual on raising kids... so I'm going with what I know. But I'm starting to wonder... am I doing this wrong? Am I too harsh? Will I turn my children into stressed out little perfectionists like myself? Hmmmm. Not sure. Maybe I'm just paranoid. Who knows.
You see, Elizabeth (at 18 months) has hit a very crucial age (at least to me) for some beginner discipline and manners training. But I see other parents looking at me (and some even braving a comment) as though I've sprouted another head or come from another planet.
Case in point: the table. We eat at our table and we eat together. No toys, no "walking while grazing"... we sit and eat together as a family. This doesn't mean we don't laugh, have fun or talk to each other. Dinner is lively in our house and I love it this way. However, this is not an easy concept to teach to an 18 month old, but we did it with William and have been pleased with the results, so I'm starting with Elizabeth. When she is finished, she already knows to say "down please" if she wants to be excused. She used to be able to get down as soon as she was finished and said this magic phrase, but now I answer with "not yet, we're eating as a family." When we did this with William, it took a week of him screaming at the table for 20-30 minutes and then he got it. He now NEVER gets down until he is excused. So far, Elizabeth is showing some discomfort, but no screaming. However, I was at our local indoor-playground (necessary in Oregon) co-op and did this and was greeted with some very unusual looks by two other parents who were in the snack room with me. Now... I am not judging their own method/timing in table manners; to each his own. But one parent actually "huffed" a little and said, "at this point I'm just letting her (her daughter who is 22 months old) walk around and eat because there is no point in making them sit." I merely responded with, "ah, well we just decided we were going to start working on the staying-at-the-table thing now since we did with her brother and after a week of him screaming, he's been great, so we're ready to make the same sacrifice with her." Now, I did not say this defensively or like my idea was better. I love hearing different ideas from different parents. This is all a learning game and I love to learn. I didn't take her opinion as a criticism of my own parenting... I really thought we were just sharing our current parenting challenges. She actually got up, pissed off, and left the snack room. WTF?
Case in point #2: Time-outs. We have started time-outs with Elizabeth. Is this easy? Hell, no! I often have to stand/sit right by her to teach her the concept that she is to stay in the time-out spot until she's calmer. But it has to start some time. I didn't have to do this with William because it was his daycare provider who had to deal with this the most and she had the advantage of peer pressure. William saw the older kids in time-out and when he had to start having them, understood where it was and that he was to sit and stay there. But I felt it was time to start "removing" Elizabeth from the situation when she is freaking out and/or taking her frustration out on another child so that eventually she will learn that this is what time out is for. Repetition is the best teacher and I've found so far that it helps to start young. But another mom recently informed me that it was a waste of time to start to young because "she won't get it yet." But I feel like if I wait much longer, I'm just teaching her that she doesn't have to listen to me and then I'll have to unteach her that. Am I wrong? Am I weird?
Case in point #3: eating and drinking. I gave up nursing and bottles when Elizabeth hit 1 year. I didn't want to use sippy cups so I just went straight to open cups and cups with straws. I just really didn't want to have to wean her off of sippy cups if I could avoid it because bottle/breast weaning was truly enough work, thank you. So now at 18 months Elizabeth can drink from a cup. This is not an "accomplishment" thing for me... it's just easier. I'm not constantly worried about having the right kind of cup with me when I'm out. I'm also working on utensils. I'm not mandating it on all foods now, but I really am encouraging that over using her hands just so that she can get the hang of it. The effort has paid off so far as she can feed herself yogurt, oatmeal and applesauce and is starting to really understand how to stab the food with the fork. Again, this is not about "accomplishment", but about ease. I feel it will be easier to teach her now than to have to unteach something because the older she gets the longer her memory is and the more "habits" she already forms. A mom today, though, made me feel like I was somehow shortchanging Elizabeth and our bonding time by not nursing anymore and like I was some kind of unkind taskmaster. Am I? I'm really starting to question my methods here.
Lastly, #4, using her words. Elizabeth can say quite a bit now, so I'm wanting to teach her to use the words she knows to communicate what she wants. It's not like I get angry or punish her or refuse to help/teach/pick-up, etc. when she doesn't, it's just that I figure repetition will teach her how to ask for what she wants. So when she stands by the fridge screaming, I merely repeat the phrase "milk please" as I go to get it. When she wants down from the table, I repeat "down please" (well, repeated, she knows this one already) while getting her down. Today at Tiny Tots (indoor playground), every time she got stuck in a toy car, house, etc. I merely repeated, "help please" while I taught her how to extricate herself and she began saying it too. This method has taught her to say, "up please" when she wants up, "eat please" when she's hungry and "thank you" when I give her something. When a fellow Tiny Tot mom commented that my children had very good manners today her friend a little later asked her (thinking I was out of earshot) "is it really manners if they don't know what they're saying yet?" I went from feeling really proud of my kids to wondering again if I was too harsh.
Perhaps I'm just paranoid. Perhaps I'm just sticking to antiquated ideas from my mom's culture. I was raised by a baby-sitter, a mom and grandparents who were Dutch-Indo immigrants who believed that children are to learn to say please and never start a sentence with "I want." I was raised by people who believed it was better to teach a habit earlier rather than later and "explain" the reasoning later, even if the action was already in place. I was raised by what I suppose is the antithesis to today's "attachment parenting" method because children slept in their own rooms from early infancy. They learned to contribute as age allowed even if it meant their "chore" was just putting a toy back in the closet when they were done. They learned that it was okay to have opinions as long as they were expressed politely and that mom or dad still had the right to say "no." They (like my own kids) learned to follow a schedule when it came to napping, eating and bed because kids can't recognize they're tired or hungry until it's often too late.
I get down in the dirt and play with my kids at the park. I stay for an extra lullabye or two or read an extra bed-time story because it makes them happy and because I can. I eat meals with them, I try to save all my chores for when they're asleep so they have as much of my attention as possible. I try to set the example on proper eating, speaking, etc. to the point of taking a time out when I slip up and cuss. I feel like my kids are secure, social, fun and bright. So I feel like I'm a good mom most of the time. But there are those moments... those teaching moments where parents differ (and I think it's OKAY to differ, I know my friends and I weren't all raised the same and we all get along) that I begin to doubt. I think it's just my fear of being "different" (something I'm working on in therapy, actually) that perhaps makes me hyper-conscious of other's comments. Perhaps that lady wasn't really mad when she left the snack room and the one who was questioning manners was just really asking a question and not criticizing my parenting. Hmmm...
Do all parents go through this? Do all parents wonder if perhaps they are the weirdos on the block? I don't know. The good news is.. I feel better just writing it all down. I'll throw my fears out to the blogosphere and continue on my merry way. Whew. Thanks for listening... now, "may I be excused?" :)
You see, Elizabeth (at 18 months) has hit a very crucial age (at least to me) for some beginner discipline and manners training. But I see other parents looking at me (and some even braving a comment) as though I've sprouted another head or come from another planet.
Case in point: the table. We eat at our table and we eat together. No toys, no "walking while grazing"... we sit and eat together as a family. This doesn't mean we don't laugh, have fun or talk to each other. Dinner is lively in our house and I love it this way. However, this is not an easy concept to teach to an 18 month old, but we did it with William and have been pleased with the results, so I'm starting with Elizabeth. When she is finished, she already knows to say "down please" if she wants to be excused. She used to be able to get down as soon as she was finished and said this magic phrase, but now I answer with "not yet, we're eating as a family." When we did this with William, it took a week of him screaming at the table for 20-30 minutes and then he got it. He now NEVER gets down until he is excused. So far, Elizabeth is showing some discomfort, but no screaming. However, I was at our local indoor-playground (necessary in Oregon) co-op and did this and was greeted with some very unusual looks by two other parents who were in the snack room with me. Now... I am not judging their own method/timing in table manners; to each his own. But one parent actually "huffed" a little and said, "at this point I'm just letting her (her daughter who is 22 months old) walk around and eat because there is no point in making them sit." I merely responded with, "ah, well we just decided we were going to start working on the staying-at-the-table thing now since we did with her brother and after a week of him screaming, he's been great, so we're ready to make the same sacrifice with her." Now, I did not say this defensively or like my idea was better. I love hearing different ideas from different parents. This is all a learning game and I love to learn. I didn't take her opinion as a criticism of my own parenting... I really thought we were just sharing our current parenting challenges. She actually got up, pissed off, and left the snack room. WTF?
Case in point #2: Time-outs. We have started time-outs with Elizabeth. Is this easy? Hell, no! I often have to stand/sit right by her to teach her the concept that she is to stay in the time-out spot until she's calmer. But it has to start some time. I didn't have to do this with William because it was his daycare provider who had to deal with this the most and she had the advantage of peer pressure. William saw the older kids in time-out and when he had to start having them, understood where it was and that he was to sit and stay there. But I felt it was time to start "removing" Elizabeth from the situation when she is freaking out and/or taking her frustration out on another child so that eventually she will learn that this is what time out is for. Repetition is the best teacher and I've found so far that it helps to start young. But another mom recently informed me that it was a waste of time to start to young because "she won't get it yet." But I feel like if I wait much longer, I'm just teaching her that she doesn't have to listen to me and then I'll have to unteach her that. Am I wrong? Am I weird?
Case in point #3: eating and drinking. I gave up nursing and bottles when Elizabeth hit 1 year. I didn't want to use sippy cups so I just went straight to open cups and cups with straws. I just really didn't want to have to wean her off of sippy cups if I could avoid it because bottle/breast weaning was truly enough work, thank you. So now at 18 months Elizabeth can drink from a cup. This is not an "accomplishment" thing for me... it's just easier. I'm not constantly worried about having the right kind of cup with me when I'm out. I'm also working on utensils. I'm not mandating it on all foods now, but I really am encouraging that over using her hands just so that she can get the hang of it. The effort has paid off so far as she can feed herself yogurt, oatmeal and applesauce and is starting to really understand how to stab the food with the fork. Again, this is not about "accomplishment", but about ease. I feel it will be easier to teach her now than to have to unteach something because the older she gets the longer her memory is and the more "habits" she already forms. A mom today, though, made me feel like I was somehow shortchanging Elizabeth and our bonding time by not nursing anymore and like I was some kind of unkind taskmaster. Am I? I'm really starting to question my methods here.
Lastly, #4, using her words. Elizabeth can say quite a bit now, so I'm wanting to teach her to use the words she knows to communicate what she wants. It's not like I get angry or punish her or refuse to help/teach/pick-up, etc. when she doesn't, it's just that I figure repetition will teach her how to ask for what she wants. So when she stands by the fridge screaming, I merely repeat the phrase "milk please" as I go to get it. When she wants down from the table, I repeat "down please" (well, repeated, she knows this one already) while getting her down. Today at Tiny Tots (indoor playground), every time she got stuck in a toy car, house, etc. I merely repeated, "help please" while I taught her how to extricate herself and she began saying it too. This method has taught her to say, "up please" when she wants up, "eat please" when she's hungry and "thank you" when I give her something. When a fellow Tiny Tot mom commented that my children had very good manners today her friend a little later asked her (thinking I was out of earshot) "is it really manners if they don't know what they're saying yet?" I went from feeling really proud of my kids to wondering again if I was too harsh.
Perhaps I'm just paranoid. Perhaps I'm just sticking to antiquated ideas from my mom's culture. I was raised by a baby-sitter, a mom and grandparents who were Dutch-Indo immigrants who believed that children are to learn to say please and never start a sentence with "I want." I was raised by people who believed it was better to teach a habit earlier rather than later and "explain" the reasoning later, even if the action was already in place. I was raised by what I suppose is the antithesis to today's "attachment parenting" method because children slept in their own rooms from early infancy. They learned to contribute as age allowed even if it meant their "chore" was just putting a toy back in the closet when they were done. They learned that it was okay to have opinions as long as they were expressed politely and that mom or dad still had the right to say "no." They (like my own kids) learned to follow a schedule when it came to napping, eating and bed because kids can't recognize they're tired or hungry until it's often too late.
I get down in the dirt and play with my kids at the park. I stay for an extra lullabye or two or read an extra bed-time story because it makes them happy and because I can. I eat meals with them, I try to save all my chores for when they're asleep so they have as much of my attention as possible. I try to set the example on proper eating, speaking, etc. to the point of taking a time out when I slip up and cuss. I feel like my kids are secure, social, fun and bright. So I feel like I'm a good mom most of the time. But there are those moments... those teaching moments where parents differ (and I think it's OKAY to differ, I know my friends and I weren't all raised the same and we all get along) that I begin to doubt. I think it's just my fear of being "different" (something I'm working on in therapy, actually) that perhaps makes me hyper-conscious of other's comments. Perhaps that lady wasn't really mad when she left the snack room and the one who was questioning manners was just really asking a question and not criticizing my parenting. Hmmm...
Do all parents go through this? Do all parents wonder if perhaps they are the weirdos on the block? I don't know. The good news is.. I feel better just writing it all down. I'll throw my fears out to the blogosphere and continue on my merry way. Whew. Thanks for listening... now, "may I be excused?" :)
Friday, July 30, 2010
Verbal Diarrhea
Now Elizabeth is (surprise for those who know us well - not) already a pretty verbal toddler. But of course, up until recently, it has been babble and not real words. But the word explosion has begun folks, BIG TIME. I'm not kidding, it was like one day she could say Mama, Dada and down and now she can say SOOOO much. The best part is when you try to get her to say something new and she studies your mouth REALLY hard trying to figure out how to form her lips around the word.
So that I wouldn't forget, I wanted to make sure I captured some of her earliest words from her first "word explosion" and especially not forget some of her better mispronunciations. To date, this is what our little angel (sarcasm) is saying
Mommy - this one rocks because it is said in two distinct syllables with a lovely pause in between as though she is doing it for emphasis, so it comes out MOMMM... MEEEEE. Of course, check back in with me in a few months for as all mothers know, you're dying for them to say this and then you're dying for them to STOP.
Daddy - this one is not two distinct syllables, but the dragged out end in her scratchy little voice is adorable. I love hearing Dadeeeeeeeeee.
Sasha - this is our youngest dog and the favorite of the kids. Like Mommy, this comes out in two distinct syllables with a pause in the middle, so you hear SAH.... SHAAAAAAA
William - I love this one because of course she cannot say it properly yet so it either comes out "Wowwoum" or "wowow".
Sit Down - I guess we must say this to our dogs A LOT becuase William also learned this one early. Her pronunciation is off right now, but she does actually use it as a command. In fact, Elizabeth can often be heard combining this with Sasha so we hear "Sa-Shah! Tsit Dow"
Doggie - This one comes out Dahyeee
Hi Dad - Apparently wanting to stay true to her Irish roots, this is often pronounced as "Hi Da"
Go - Taught her this one today and it sounds more like "DOOOH"
Wow - this one comes out as a perfect little "WOW" always said as though she is surprised or impressed
Yay - also perfectly pronounced and always very emphatic
Ow - One of my favorites because it's often said in an offhand manner like when one says "ow" under their breath when they bump into something
Up - also said for the first time today, can sound like "Uh" or "Uht"
Yukon - our other dog and the name she has the most trouble with, so she decided to make it a derivative of the dog's name she CAN say and just calls him "yasha"
Uh Oh - one of my all time favorites coming from babies as their little voices just sound so cute when they drop something and say "uh ooooohhhhh" (Elizabeth drags out that last part).
Lola - this is Filipino for grandmother (my step-mom is from the Philippines) and comes out more as luh-laaaa rather than LOW-LAH, but it works
Tante - this is aunt in Dutch and what she calls my sister only it comes out as tuhtah
Pop Pop - this is Mike's dad and she says it fast as all one word "poppop"
Bye Bye - said perfectly as we would pronounce it or sometimes it's just BYYYYYYE
Hi - this ones sounds like HYEEEEEEEEEE
Water - for some reason gets pronounced "wah-eee"
Otherwise, there are a few things where she cannot say the words so instead she makes the sound. Those are:
For cat she tries to say "meow meow" which comes out more like "mnow mnow"
For chicken she says "bah bah" or "bop bop" which is supposed to be the "bock bock" sound of a chicken clucking
For sheep she says "BAAAAAAAH"
For cow she says "mmmmmnnnn" or "eeeeeeeeew" which is her way of saying "moo"
For horse she says "aaaaayyyy" which is supposed to be "neigh"
The rest of her babbling is either random or we've yet to translate it, so tune in for more. The biggest mystery right now is what sounds like "MYEE", but I think is supposed to be "milk" because she usually says it while standing in the open refrigerator looking up at her milk cup.
So that I wouldn't forget, I wanted to make sure I captured some of her earliest words from her first "word explosion" and especially not forget some of her better mispronunciations. To date, this is what our little angel (sarcasm) is saying
Mommy - this one rocks because it is said in two distinct syllables with a lovely pause in between as though she is doing it for emphasis, so it comes out MOMMM... MEEEEE. Of course, check back in with me in a few months for as all mothers know, you're dying for them to say this and then you're dying for them to STOP.
Daddy - this one is not two distinct syllables, but the dragged out end in her scratchy little voice is adorable. I love hearing Dadeeeeeeeeee.
Sasha - this is our youngest dog and the favorite of the kids. Like Mommy, this comes out in two distinct syllables with a pause in the middle, so you hear SAH.... SHAAAAAAA
William - I love this one because of course she cannot say it properly yet so it either comes out "Wowwoum" or "wowow".
Sit Down - I guess we must say this to our dogs A LOT becuase William also learned this one early. Her pronunciation is off right now, but she does actually use it as a command. In fact, Elizabeth can often be heard combining this with Sasha so we hear "Sa-Shah! Tsit Dow"
Doggie - This one comes out Dahyeee
Hi Dad - Apparently wanting to stay true to her Irish roots, this is often pronounced as "Hi Da"
Go - Taught her this one today and it sounds more like "DOOOH"
Wow - this one comes out as a perfect little "WOW" always said as though she is surprised or impressed
Yay - also perfectly pronounced and always very emphatic
Ow - One of my favorites because it's often said in an offhand manner like when one says "ow" under their breath when they bump into something
Up - also said for the first time today, can sound like "Uh" or "Uht"
Yukon - our other dog and the name she has the most trouble with, so she decided to make it a derivative of the dog's name she CAN say and just calls him "yasha"
Uh Oh - one of my all time favorites coming from babies as their little voices just sound so cute when they drop something and say "uh ooooohhhhh" (Elizabeth drags out that last part).
Lola - this is Filipino for grandmother (my step-mom is from the Philippines) and comes out more as luh-laaaa rather than LOW-LAH, but it works
Tante - this is aunt in Dutch and what she calls my sister only it comes out as tuhtah
Pop Pop - this is Mike's dad and she says it fast as all one word "poppop"
Bye Bye - said perfectly as we would pronounce it or sometimes it's just BYYYYYYE
Hi - this ones sounds like HYEEEEEEEEEE
Water - for some reason gets pronounced "wah-eee"
Otherwise, there are a few things where she cannot say the words so instead she makes the sound. Those are:
For cat she tries to say "meow meow" which comes out more like "mnow mnow"
For chicken she says "bah bah" or "bop bop" which is supposed to be the "bock bock" sound of a chicken clucking
For sheep she says "BAAAAAAAH"
For cow she says "mmmmmnnnn" or "eeeeeeeeew" which is her way of saying "moo"
For horse she says "aaaaayyyy" which is supposed to be "neigh"
The rest of her babbling is either random or we've yet to translate it, so tune in for more. The biggest mystery right now is what sounds like "MYEE", but I think is supposed to be "milk" because she usually says it while standing in the open refrigerator looking up at her milk cup.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Of Bumps, Bruises and Bathroom Doors
So when I say Elizabeth is Karma's gift to my mother, I mean SHE IS KARMA'S GIFT to my mother. She is every kind of adventure, complication, frustration I have visted upon my mother in my lifetime wrapped in an adorable package of chubby cheeks and blonde pigtails. I mistakenly thought the second child might be the child who makes me feel validated, experienced, confident, like a good mother, etc.
No, no kids. God, Fate, the Universe... what have you has instead decided that this child is the answer to "so you THINK you REALLY know how to parent, do you?.... ha, ha HA!" To date here are some of the exploits in the past few months that have made me doubt I have ANY talent at parenting.
The Bathroom Door - I'm having one of those nights where I'm THIS close to a breakdown, so Mike decides to do bath and bedtime for the kids so I can just sit downstairs. Not long after they've all retreated upstairs I hear this - (William) "uh... mom! we need some help up here!" Now keep in mind my son is just a tad (sarcasm) melodramatic. So I barely move and ask "what is it?!" Then I hear, "uh... she's stuck." "Who's stuck?!" (now I'm moving toward the stairs a little quicker). (Mike's voice) "Elizabeth closed the bathroom door and then opened the drawer that blocks the door and now we can't get her out!" Oh boy. I dash up the stairs and sure enough, thanks to some poor planning from an obviously childless contractor, the drawer to the bathroom cabinetry is opened and therefor the bathroom door opens maybe only an inch. All I can see are little baby fingers curled around the door and Elizabeth is screaming frantically because she cannot get out. If this were an older child we could merely say, "shut the drawer and the door will open"... but she is a baby, it won't work. That isn't to say that the whole time we tried squeezing in our fingers, bending hangers around and under the door, slipping other toys through attempting to help her close the drawer (the weight of the door against it since she was pulling so hard did not help) we weren't yelling, "Elizabeth, close the drawer honey! Watch your fingers, close the drawer!" Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was only 12 minutes (and after a lengthy discussion about breaking down/sawing through the door but not being able to because she was right on the other side), we got the right combination of her leaning on the drawer, my cramming my now bruised fingers as far as they could go and pulling on the door and the drawer closed, the door opened and a red-faced, tear-streaked, HYSTERICAL toddler dashed into my arms and would NOT let go. And there ended my "few moments to myself". Ahhhh... the peaceful life of a mother of two. What on earth do people with more children do?!
The Swan Dive
Unlike the story above, this happens on a morning when I have passed the "I'm THIIIIIS close to a breakdown" and actually have one. I'm talking a screaming, crying, shaking, totally taking out my exhaustion on everyone around me BREAKDOWN. I took on way too much with the kids that week and we were all starting to run late on a day where we had to get William to baseball class, then come home, eat, pack and drive 2 hours to Portland to see my in-laws for the weekend. Mike and I begin to fight and I put Elizabeth in her booster seat to do her hair (because if I don't pin this girl down, doing her hair is an impossibility) and I don't realize that I haven't strapped down the seat to the chair it's sitting on. I turn away to grab the comb and rubber bands when I hear, "Oh my GOD, NO!" followed by a huge crash and wailing. Elizabeth loves to kick frantically when in her booster and has thus kicked herself and her booster off the chair and she has landed, head-first onto our hard wood floor. This stops the fight IMMEDIATELY, we get her out of her chair and see that a large bump and bruise are immediately forming on her forhead. She calms down rather quickly, though and her behavior isn't changed, so I'm thinking chances of a concussion or anything serious are slim. We head to baseball class, but I feel like a world-class loser of a parent, so when we return from class we call my in-laws and tell them we'll drive up the next day and we take Elizabeth to the after-hours pediatrician to make sure. The doctor says he's so happy FOR MY SANITY that I brought her in, but as far as her safetly, believe it or not, it's a rather minor injury. Turns out there have been some pretty macabre (as he put it) studies on just how much force it takes to actually usually injure small children enough to damage the brain and it comes out to something like the equivalent of falling directly on their head from about 3 stories up. So she's good. And he gave her points for perfect symmetry on the swan dive. So she walked around looking like she got the worse end of a fight for a few days (and of course the looks we got from others when we had to take her out in public were PRICELESS), but she was fine. I now DOUBLE AND TRIPLE check that booster. Little miss Kickety (as I like to call her) can now kick to her heart's content only when I know she's FULLY STRAPPED DOWN.
Insult to Injury
So if the above head injury were not enough, I must tell you about the few days preceding it and that same day. Previous to Elizabeth's Swan Dive and actually on the same day as, we had a miraculous and unfortunate string of Elizabeth related injuries. The kind of string that makes you want to start hiding out in your own house lest the authorities decide your child is perhaps not safest in your hands or that makes you want to buy a T-shirt for her that says "Danger: Toddler in Motion, I swear my parents don't beat me." For prior to her fall Elizabeth (who has been walking since about 11 months and thus now RUNS everywhere) fell while running on the driveway and scraped up her knee, climbed on a chair and then fell and bit her lip causing her mouth to bleed and then was clobbered by the door leading from the garage to the house because Mike didn't know she was standing RIGHT in front of it when he entered the house. Finally, later in the day after her swan dive, I'm cutting up some food for her and I do it - I cut my daughter. Now, you're saying to yourself, why were you cutting her food so close to her? I WASN'T. Here's what no one tells you folks. Toddlers apparently become like Elastic Man when they want to. You see Elizabeth sits in a booster with a tray on it and I always cut her food on the table first and then place the food on her tray... thus leaving knives out of reach, or so I thought. This day, for the first time ever, JUUUUUUUST as I was bringing the knife down, she managed to reach PAST her tray, past the edge of the table and onto the plate RIGHT where the knife was and viola! I cut her. Now, I saw it happening and managed to stop the knife before it went too far, but it was still enough of a nick to draw the tiniest amount of blood. She barely made a peep, but of course, after all the other bumps and bruises I just thought, "of course! of course I cut her! That's it, I give up. Take my parenting license away." I mean seriously. We're heading up to Portland the next day to celebrate my in-laws 40th anniversary and all the folks there will see a toddler with a bumped/bruised forhead, cut finger, scraped knee and bruised lip. SERIOUSLY?! What kind of mother am I?
Of course with each of these incidents and with all my other complaints about how much she runs, climbs, touches EVERYTHING and basically tortures the rest of us I call my mother for consolation. Am I mentally ill? Mom laughs. Not because she's cruel, kids, but because she has at last received karmic justice for all that I have brought upon her. And she LOVES it.
No, no kids. God, Fate, the Universe... what have you has instead decided that this child is the answer to "so you THINK you REALLY know how to parent, do you?.... ha, ha HA!" To date here are some of the exploits in the past few months that have made me doubt I have ANY talent at parenting.
The Bathroom Door - I'm having one of those nights where I'm THIS close to a breakdown, so Mike decides to do bath and bedtime for the kids so I can just sit downstairs. Not long after they've all retreated upstairs I hear this - (William) "uh... mom! we need some help up here!" Now keep in mind my son is just a tad (sarcasm) melodramatic. So I barely move and ask "what is it?!" Then I hear, "uh... she's stuck." "Who's stuck?!" (now I'm moving toward the stairs a little quicker). (Mike's voice) "Elizabeth closed the bathroom door and then opened the drawer that blocks the door and now we can't get her out!" Oh boy. I dash up the stairs and sure enough, thanks to some poor planning from an obviously childless contractor, the drawer to the bathroom cabinetry is opened and therefor the bathroom door opens maybe only an inch. All I can see are little baby fingers curled around the door and Elizabeth is screaming frantically because she cannot get out. If this were an older child we could merely say, "shut the drawer and the door will open"... but she is a baby, it won't work. That isn't to say that the whole time we tried squeezing in our fingers, bending hangers around and under the door, slipping other toys through attempting to help her close the drawer (the weight of the door against it since she was pulling so hard did not help) we weren't yelling, "Elizabeth, close the drawer honey! Watch your fingers, close the drawer!" Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was only 12 minutes (and after a lengthy discussion about breaking down/sawing through the door but not being able to because she was right on the other side), we got the right combination of her leaning on the drawer, my cramming my now bruised fingers as far as they could go and pulling on the door and the drawer closed, the door opened and a red-faced, tear-streaked, HYSTERICAL toddler dashed into my arms and would NOT let go. And there ended my "few moments to myself". Ahhhh... the peaceful life of a mother of two. What on earth do people with more children do?!
The Swan Dive
Unlike the story above, this happens on a morning when I have passed the "I'm THIIIIIS close to a breakdown" and actually have one. I'm talking a screaming, crying, shaking, totally taking out my exhaustion on everyone around me BREAKDOWN. I took on way too much with the kids that week and we were all starting to run late on a day where we had to get William to baseball class, then come home, eat, pack and drive 2 hours to Portland to see my in-laws for the weekend. Mike and I begin to fight and I put Elizabeth in her booster seat to do her hair (because if I don't pin this girl down, doing her hair is an impossibility) and I don't realize that I haven't strapped down the seat to the chair it's sitting on. I turn away to grab the comb and rubber bands when I hear, "Oh my GOD, NO!" followed by a huge crash and wailing. Elizabeth loves to kick frantically when in her booster and has thus kicked herself and her booster off the chair and she has landed, head-first onto our hard wood floor. This stops the fight IMMEDIATELY, we get her out of her chair and see that a large bump and bruise are immediately forming on her forhead. She calms down rather quickly, though and her behavior isn't changed, so I'm thinking chances of a concussion or anything serious are slim. We head to baseball class, but I feel like a world-class loser of a parent, so when we return from class we call my in-laws and tell them we'll drive up the next day and we take Elizabeth to the after-hours pediatrician to make sure. The doctor says he's so happy FOR MY SANITY that I brought her in, but as far as her safetly, believe it or not, it's a rather minor injury. Turns out there have been some pretty macabre (as he put it) studies on just how much force it takes to actually usually injure small children enough to damage the brain and it comes out to something like the equivalent of falling directly on their head from about 3 stories up. So she's good. And he gave her points for perfect symmetry on the swan dive. So she walked around looking like she got the worse end of a fight for a few days (and of course the looks we got from others when we had to take her out in public were PRICELESS), but she was fine. I now DOUBLE AND TRIPLE check that booster. Little miss Kickety (as I like to call her) can now kick to her heart's content only when I know she's FULLY STRAPPED DOWN.
Insult to Injury
So if the above head injury were not enough, I must tell you about the few days preceding it and that same day. Previous to Elizabeth's Swan Dive and actually on the same day as, we had a miraculous and unfortunate string of Elizabeth related injuries. The kind of string that makes you want to start hiding out in your own house lest the authorities decide your child is perhaps not safest in your hands or that makes you want to buy a T-shirt for her that says "Danger: Toddler in Motion, I swear my parents don't beat me." For prior to her fall Elizabeth (who has been walking since about 11 months and thus now RUNS everywhere) fell while running on the driveway and scraped up her knee, climbed on a chair and then fell and bit her lip causing her mouth to bleed and then was clobbered by the door leading from the garage to the house because Mike didn't know she was standing RIGHT in front of it when he entered the house. Finally, later in the day after her swan dive, I'm cutting up some food for her and I do it - I cut my daughter. Now, you're saying to yourself, why were you cutting her food so close to her? I WASN'T. Here's what no one tells you folks. Toddlers apparently become like Elastic Man when they want to. You see Elizabeth sits in a booster with a tray on it and I always cut her food on the table first and then place the food on her tray... thus leaving knives out of reach, or so I thought. This day, for the first time ever, JUUUUUUUST as I was bringing the knife down, she managed to reach PAST her tray, past the edge of the table and onto the plate RIGHT where the knife was and viola! I cut her. Now, I saw it happening and managed to stop the knife before it went too far, but it was still enough of a nick to draw the tiniest amount of blood. She barely made a peep, but of course, after all the other bumps and bruises I just thought, "of course! of course I cut her! That's it, I give up. Take my parenting license away." I mean seriously. We're heading up to Portland the next day to celebrate my in-laws 40th anniversary and all the folks there will see a toddler with a bumped/bruised forhead, cut finger, scraped knee and bruised lip. SERIOUSLY?! What kind of mother am I?
Of course with each of these incidents and with all my other complaints about how much she runs, climbs, touches EVERYTHING and basically tortures the rest of us I call my mother for consolation. Am I mentally ill? Mom laughs. Not because she's cruel, kids, but because she has at last received karmic justice for all that I have brought upon her. And she LOVES it.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Karma Strikes Back
I was talking to my mother on the phone the other day while Elizabeth was sitting in her booster for a meal, when Elizabeth started screaming, hitting the tray, pitching food over the side, etc. in her attempt to make me realize she wanted down. My mother began laughing. Not chuckling, not giggling and certainly not feeling sympathetic. No folks, she was laughing and making no effort to disguise it. Then she said, "boy, I don't know anyone who was like that as a toddler." Har har Mom. Boy is she enjoying this.
I have discovered as of late (see my very first entry on this blog about Elizabeth), that she IS NOT easier than her brother, it is NOT easier the second time around, and boy am I in for it because Karma has struck back for my mother folks, and she's striking back BIG TIME.
#1 - Elizabeth is not intimidated by me. William, even at 14-15 months (like Elizabeth is now) was already cowed by my stern voice. One stern "NO!" and he would look at me wounded, stop what he was doing, and come to me. Not so, his sister. "NO!" produces either a) laughter, b) running in the opposite direction from mommy, c) an attempt to bite mommy, d) an "AGH!" of protest or e) slapping wildly at mommy. I am trying to find the "tool" that will work with her and so far distraction, removal and "no!" do not work. Any ideas folks?
#2 - Elizabeth is NOT an easy eater. She'll try to suck you in dear friends. She sits there with her little blonde curls, her little gap-toothed smile all nice in her booster as you put food in front of her. She doesn't throw it or make faces at it. And you think... "aha! I can feed her anything", but then the "eating" begins. First of all, she LICKS most of her food first. If it doesn't stand up to the first lick, over it goes (to happily waiting dogs). Now sometimes, it passes the lick test, only to fail the texture test. This is when she puts the bite in her mouth and begins the chewing process. "Victory!" you think. Not so fast folks, not so fast. All of a sudden out comes her tongue in a "blah" kind of motion (as if she were preparing for the doctor to use the tongue depressor) and the offending item comes rolling/sliding/falling out. Half chewed, gooey and all over herself or bib or tray. Super. Here's the kicker. You would think that means that she doesn't want that particular food, but wait there's more. She may actually LIKE what you're serving, it's just that THAT PARTICULAR bite did not meet her standards. Case in point, hash browns this morning. Some were apparently crispy and seasoned enough for her tastes, while others were lolled back out on her tongue with a look of disgust for emphasis. At that point I wanted to start throwing food.
#3 - she's a climber. I used to laugh when my mom would say that she put me in gymnastics to save her furniture. Now I know why she said it. You see, William never climbed anything. I would look blankly at mothers who talked about not being able to turn around for fear of finding their child on top of couches, chairs, toilets, play structures, etc. Now I am that mother. What kills me is she is TINY. The girl is in the whopping 12th height percentile and is so slight she's not heavy enough to merit the "big girl" car seat most kids get at 1 years old. Doesn't stop her though. She can sling her tiny little leg up almost as high as her head, so when she wants to climb up on something, instead of crawling, she slings her little leg up, digs her heel in and then uses the leverage to help her little arms PUUUUUULLL herself onto whatever she wants on. The ottoman I thought was too tall for her? Hah! I turned around the other day to see her standing on it and bouncing up and down. Her brother's bed? HE STILL needs the stool to climb up on it and it can still be a struggle for him...today, she stands on the stool and does her little leg-slinging trick and she's up. Agh! I have now found her on or halfway up the ottoman, our couch, our end tables, a toilet, the side of the bathtub and a chair. I'm going to look into toddler gymastics. They have it right?! I've got to save my furniture (and her from breaking open that cute little head).
#4 - Elizabeth likes to spite me. I'm not kidding people. This is not accidental. She LIKES it. Exhibit A - the talking. We have begun teaching her some very important words because I'm getting VERY sick of being screamed at. So we taught her "down" when she wants to get down. This lasted about two weeks, then the novelty wore off and Operation Spite Mom began. Two days ago she began doing everything BUT saying down. I look at her when I know she's finished (hard to miss with food dropping to the floor) and say "down?". Now, instead of repeating down I get screaming, crying, dropping her head onto the tray or my favorite (and the routine this morning) saying everything but! She started crying and then the following:
Me: Down?
Elizabeth: Uh mamamamama.
Me: Down?
Elizabeth: Baby
Me: Down?
Elizabeth: buh buh buh buh buh
Me: Elizabeth! Down?!
Elizabeth: MWAAAAAGGHH! Mama.
Me: E-LIZ-a-BETH!!! Down?
Elizabeth: Dadadadadada
Me: AAAGGGHH! Elizabeth, say down.
Elizabeth: uh oh
Me: (breathing to stay calm).. down, Elizabeth, do you want down?
Elizabeth: Booo Beeee
I had to walk away and leave her in her chair while I cleaned up the dishes and William played. Every so often I would just say "Down" over my shoulder. She mostly laughed. Then William walks up to her and says, Down Elizabeth? She shouts, "DOOOOOWWWWW" (she can't pronounce the "n" sound) and then claps expectantly at me. I clapped, let her down and tried not to feel defeated.
#5 - Elizabeth DOES NOT want to be dressed or diapered. I believe I have mentioned previously in the blog that diapering Elizabeth is like wrangling an octopus. Well folks, that has now extended to putting clothes on her as well. She ends up screaming and all tangled up in her shirts because she's freakin' wrestling me as I try to dress her. I've gotten both legs in one pant leg a million times because she kicks the crap out of me as I try to put pants on her. I've chased a buck-naked or half-dressed toddler through our playroom far too many times because when she doesn't want to be dressed she's suddenly as slippery as a greased pig. I've given up on a changing table long ago because I have more leverage with her on the floor, but you kinda feel bad using a 108 lb weight advantage on a toddler. Of course, sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do!
I have to remember I asked for this folks. Not content to have one, I pressed my luck and got my girl. "One of each!" everyone says happily for us. Yep, I think. I got my over-sensitive, has to have the last word, afraid of the dark, eye-rolling side of me in my boy. And now my fiesty, pig-headed, loud, difficult, clothes-hating, diaper-hating side of me in my girl. Yep, one of each. And my mother is enjoying every bit of this.
I have discovered as of late (see my very first entry on this blog about Elizabeth), that she IS NOT easier than her brother, it is NOT easier the second time around, and boy am I in for it because Karma has struck back for my mother folks, and she's striking back BIG TIME.
#1 - Elizabeth is not intimidated by me. William, even at 14-15 months (like Elizabeth is now) was already cowed by my stern voice. One stern "NO!" and he would look at me wounded, stop what he was doing, and come to me. Not so, his sister. "NO!" produces either a) laughter, b) running in the opposite direction from mommy, c) an attempt to bite mommy, d) an "AGH!" of protest or e) slapping wildly at mommy. I am trying to find the "tool" that will work with her and so far distraction, removal and "no!" do not work. Any ideas folks?
#2 - Elizabeth is NOT an easy eater. She'll try to suck you in dear friends. She sits there with her little blonde curls, her little gap-toothed smile all nice in her booster as you put food in front of her. She doesn't throw it or make faces at it. And you think... "aha! I can feed her anything", but then the "eating" begins. First of all, she LICKS most of her food first. If it doesn't stand up to the first lick, over it goes (to happily waiting dogs). Now sometimes, it passes the lick test, only to fail the texture test. This is when she puts the bite in her mouth and begins the chewing process. "Victory!" you think. Not so fast folks, not so fast. All of a sudden out comes her tongue in a "blah" kind of motion (as if she were preparing for the doctor to use the tongue depressor) and the offending item comes rolling/sliding/falling out. Half chewed, gooey and all over herself or bib or tray. Super. Here's the kicker. You would think that means that she doesn't want that particular food, but wait there's more. She may actually LIKE what you're serving, it's just that THAT PARTICULAR bite did not meet her standards. Case in point, hash browns this morning. Some were apparently crispy and seasoned enough for her tastes, while others were lolled back out on her tongue with a look of disgust for emphasis. At that point I wanted to start throwing food.
#3 - she's a climber. I used to laugh when my mom would say that she put me in gymnastics to save her furniture. Now I know why she said it. You see, William never climbed anything. I would look blankly at mothers who talked about not being able to turn around for fear of finding their child on top of couches, chairs, toilets, play structures, etc. Now I am that mother. What kills me is she is TINY. The girl is in the whopping 12th height percentile and is so slight she's not heavy enough to merit the "big girl" car seat most kids get at 1 years old. Doesn't stop her though. She can sling her tiny little leg up almost as high as her head, so when she wants to climb up on something, instead of crawling, she slings her little leg up, digs her heel in and then uses the leverage to help her little arms PUUUUUULLL herself onto whatever she wants on. The ottoman I thought was too tall for her? Hah! I turned around the other day to see her standing on it and bouncing up and down. Her brother's bed? HE STILL needs the stool to climb up on it and it can still be a struggle for him...today, she stands on the stool and does her little leg-slinging trick and she's up. Agh! I have now found her on or halfway up the ottoman, our couch, our end tables, a toilet, the side of the bathtub and a chair. I'm going to look into toddler gymastics. They have it right?! I've got to save my furniture (and her from breaking open that cute little head).
#4 - Elizabeth likes to spite me. I'm not kidding people. This is not accidental. She LIKES it. Exhibit A - the talking. We have begun teaching her some very important words because I'm getting VERY sick of being screamed at. So we taught her "down" when she wants to get down. This lasted about two weeks, then the novelty wore off and Operation Spite Mom began. Two days ago she began doing everything BUT saying down. I look at her when I know she's finished (hard to miss with food dropping to the floor) and say "down?". Now, instead of repeating down I get screaming, crying, dropping her head onto the tray or my favorite (and the routine this morning) saying everything but! She started crying and then the following:
Me: Down?
Elizabeth: Uh mamamamama.
Me: Down?
Elizabeth: Baby
Me: Down?
Elizabeth: buh buh buh buh buh
Me: Elizabeth! Down?!
Elizabeth: MWAAAAAGGHH! Mama.
Me: E-LIZ-a-BETH!!! Down?
Elizabeth: Dadadadadada
Me: AAAGGGHH! Elizabeth, say down.
Elizabeth: uh oh
Me: (breathing to stay calm).. down, Elizabeth, do you want down?
Elizabeth: Booo Beeee
I had to walk away and leave her in her chair while I cleaned up the dishes and William played. Every so often I would just say "Down" over my shoulder. She mostly laughed. Then William walks up to her and says, Down Elizabeth? She shouts, "DOOOOOWWWWW" (she can't pronounce the "n" sound) and then claps expectantly at me. I clapped, let her down and tried not to feel defeated.
#5 - Elizabeth DOES NOT want to be dressed or diapered. I believe I have mentioned previously in the blog that diapering Elizabeth is like wrangling an octopus. Well folks, that has now extended to putting clothes on her as well. She ends up screaming and all tangled up in her shirts because she's freakin' wrestling me as I try to dress her. I've gotten both legs in one pant leg a million times because she kicks the crap out of me as I try to put pants on her. I've chased a buck-naked or half-dressed toddler through our playroom far too many times because when she doesn't want to be dressed she's suddenly as slippery as a greased pig. I've given up on a changing table long ago because I have more leverage with her on the floor, but you kinda feel bad using a 108 lb weight advantage on a toddler. Of course, sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do!
I have to remember I asked for this folks. Not content to have one, I pressed my luck and got my girl. "One of each!" everyone says happily for us. Yep, I think. I got my over-sensitive, has to have the last word, afraid of the dark, eye-rolling side of me in my boy. And now my fiesty, pig-headed, loud, difficult, clothes-hating, diaper-hating side of me in my girl. Yep, one of each. And my mother is enjoying every bit of this.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Glee and the tea kettle
No, that is not a reference to a certain TV show about a high school glee club... it's about my daughter. My one-year-old, in-your-face, karma's-gift-to-my-mother, daughter Elizabeth. I know many a soft parent (for the record, I'm NOT soft) who chide me about being so hard on my kids so young, because they don't know better yet. And to that dear friends I say (cover your ears sensitive ones) BULLSHIT. Sorry, no other phrase for it. If you question me on that, just watch for the look of PURE GLEE on my daughter's face as she 1) runs from me, 2) picks up something she's not supposed to have, 3) escapes from me while naked and 4) grabs a blanket from her brother or me. She DOES know better, folks, and she knows how to get my goat. As for the Tea Kettle, just hear this little one scream... you'll know what I mean.
Exhibit A... running from mom. Our house layout is kind of interesting with our office, living, dining, laundry and master bedroom on the main floor and the two kids rooms, play room and their bathroom upstairs. So while I'm cooking downstairs, I always have to remember to close the door to the Master Bedroom otherwise, she makes her way into my bedroom to wreak havoc on the dog crates, my trash can, my closet, etc. Now... if I forget or don't do it fast enough, she makes a beeline for that room. And if I really want her to run all I have to do is say "Elizabeth... where are you going?" And she will smile with PURE GLEE, giggle and begin running for it. Now she's only been walking for about 2 months, so her running isn't great yet, but BOY can she boogie if I ask her where she's going and again... the look is pure glee. So don't TELL me she doesn't know what she's doing. She knows and she LOVES it.
Exhibit B... picks up something she's not supposed to have. Now kids... my house could be Toys 'R Us (hell, it seems like it is, with 6 grandparents, there are a lot of gifts) but it doesn't matter. Elizabeth only wants the things she CAN'T have. I've tried blocking off the entertainment center with large toys, but she wiggles around them and in no time is turning her Daddy's Xbox on and off, pushing all the buttons on the Wii controllers, trying to eject DVD's from the PS3, or trying to grab a remote control (she'd probably figure it out faster than I can). I try to keep her in the kitchen, but she's instantly in my spice rack, headed straight for my glass pie plates or wandering back into the living room to rip up her brother's coloring books, eat his markers, steal his Clone Troopers, torture the dogs, grab diapers out of the diaper bag or dig in their for her absolute favorite - a tube of Desitin. When she is holding/touching/pushing any of the said forbidden items all I have to do is walk toward her or say her name and she begins running away and, if the item is light enough to carry, waiving it like a victory flag in her little hands as she giggles and runs... again a look of pure glee on that angelic face. I repeat... she knows what she's doing kids.
Exhibit C... naked escape a.k.a "going commando". If this little monkey (as I call her) manages to get away from me sans diaper or sans any clothes, she looks as if she's won the lottery. She begins running about, gleeful look spread across her face and screaming short little tea kettle bursts (ie. high pitched agh! agh! agh!) at me if I try to pull her back down to put the diaper or clothing back on. She will even, smiling the whole time, SLAP my hands and arms as I try to lay her back down. She's a fighter kids... God have mercy on the future playground boys who attempt to get near her. She'll be slapping them silly and screaming their bloody eardrums out. Okay, I admit... that thought makes me say, "THAT'S my girl!"
Exhibit D...blanket grabbing. Elizabeth is currently obsessed with blankets. Putting them over her head (never mind that she walks into stuff that way), wrapping herself in them, nosediving into them, etc. Now this, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. However, she only seems to be interested when I'm in the middle of folding laundry or when her brother is carrying his favorite blanket across the room. Lest you think this is innocent fun... I'm telling you again, she KNOWS what she's doing. Today I was trying to clean up the playroom, so I was folding up some blankets. Talk about ultimate temptation, at the same moment, William was crossing the room with his favorite Batman blanket in hand. Momentarily paralyzed by whom to torture first, Elizabeth then headed for me first and sat on as much blanket as she could so I couldn't fold it. She then began to play our "where's Elizabeth" peek-a-boo game in it until William made the mistake of getting too close and then she snatched his blanket too. Screaming ensued as William attempted to wrest the blanket from his sister without hurting her yelling, "MOOOOOM" while Elizabeth again emitted short tea kettle bursts of "agh! agh!" with each tug. I tried trickery this time and pretended to fold another of William's blankets (his Spidey blanket) thinking she'd go after that one. Not so, kids, not so. She gleefully rolled around in her two captured blankets, giggling and only stopping to look over at me in her best, "aren't I funny?" look.
As for the Tea Kettle. That name was given by my husband when one of Elizabeth's shrill little screams went on so long at dinner that Mike said, "Take her off the stove, she's ready."(for the record, I believe she was under the mistaken impression that that was the way to ask to be excused from the table since she can't use words yet). She has since perfected this little scream and loves to use it whenever she is unhappy with her current situation or in need of attention. She appears envious of her brother's mastery of the English language and has thus decided, this is her road in.
So kids... they KNOW better. Far before they're even a year old. They know. She knows I don't want her throwing her food off her chair to the dogs (she'll even pretend she's not going to and then fling it past my outstretched hand!), she knows I don't want her eating the lovely goodies she finds on the floor, she knows I don't want her "kissing" my newly shined stainless steel refrigerator. She KNOWS folks, she just doesn't care. She knows what makes her happy and that's what counts.
Boy... am I in for it. Cue my mother, laughing hysterically.
Exhibit A... running from mom. Our house layout is kind of interesting with our office, living, dining, laundry and master bedroom on the main floor and the two kids rooms, play room and their bathroom upstairs. So while I'm cooking downstairs, I always have to remember to close the door to the Master Bedroom otherwise, she makes her way into my bedroom to wreak havoc on the dog crates, my trash can, my closet, etc. Now... if I forget or don't do it fast enough, she makes a beeline for that room. And if I really want her to run all I have to do is say "Elizabeth... where are you going?" And she will smile with PURE GLEE, giggle and begin running for it. Now she's only been walking for about 2 months, so her running isn't great yet, but BOY can she boogie if I ask her where she's going and again... the look is pure glee. So don't TELL me she doesn't know what she's doing. She knows and she LOVES it.
Exhibit B... picks up something she's not supposed to have. Now kids... my house could be Toys 'R Us (hell, it seems like it is, with 6 grandparents, there are a lot of gifts) but it doesn't matter. Elizabeth only wants the things she CAN'T have. I've tried blocking off the entertainment center with large toys, but she wiggles around them and in no time is turning her Daddy's Xbox on and off, pushing all the buttons on the Wii controllers, trying to eject DVD's from the PS3, or trying to grab a remote control (she'd probably figure it out faster than I can). I try to keep her in the kitchen, but she's instantly in my spice rack, headed straight for my glass pie plates or wandering back into the living room to rip up her brother's coloring books, eat his markers, steal his Clone Troopers, torture the dogs, grab diapers out of the diaper bag or dig in their for her absolute favorite - a tube of Desitin. When she is holding/touching/pushing any of the said forbidden items all I have to do is walk toward her or say her name and she begins running away and, if the item is light enough to carry, waiving it like a victory flag in her little hands as she giggles and runs... again a look of pure glee on that angelic face. I repeat... she knows what she's doing kids.
Exhibit C... naked escape a.k.a "going commando". If this little monkey (as I call her) manages to get away from me sans diaper or sans any clothes, she looks as if she's won the lottery. She begins running about, gleeful look spread across her face and screaming short little tea kettle bursts (ie. high pitched agh! agh! agh!) at me if I try to pull her back down to put the diaper or clothing back on. She will even, smiling the whole time, SLAP my hands and arms as I try to lay her back down. She's a fighter kids... God have mercy on the future playground boys who attempt to get near her. She'll be slapping them silly and screaming their bloody eardrums out. Okay, I admit... that thought makes me say, "THAT'S my girl!"
Exhibit D...blanket grabbing. Elizabeth is currently obsessed with blankets. Putting them over her head (never mind that she walks into stuff that way), wrapping herself in them, nosediving into them, etc. Now this, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. However, she only seems to be interested when I'm in the middle of folding laundry or when her brother is carrying his favorite blanket across the room. Lest you think this is innocent fun... I'm telling you again, she KNOWS what she's doing. Today I was trying to clean up the playroom, so I was folding up some blankets. Talk about ultimate temptation, at the same moment, William was crossing the room with his favorite Batman blanket in hand. Momentarily paralyzed by whom to torture first, Elizabeth then headed for me first and sat on as much blanket as she could so I couldn't fold it. She then began to play our "where's Elizabeth" peek-a-boo game in it until William made the mistake of getting too close and then she snatched his blanket too. Screaming ensued as William attempted to wrest the blanket from his sister without hurting her yelling, "MOOOOOM" while Elizabeth again emitted short tea kettle bursts of "agh! agh!" with each tug. I tried trickery this time and pretended to fold another of William's blankets (his Spidey blanket) thinking she'd go after that one. Not so, kids, not so. She gleefully rolled around in her two captured blankets, giggling and only stopping to look over at me in her best, "aren't I funny?" look.
As for the Tea Kettle. That name was given by my husband when one of Elizabeth's shrill little screams went on so long at dinner that Mike said, "Take her off the stove, she's ready."(for the record, I believe she was under the mistaken impression that that was the way to ask to be excused from the table since she can't use words yet). She has since perfected this little scream and loves to use it whenever she is unhappy with her current situation or in need of attention. She appears envious of her brother's mastery of the English language and has thus decided, this is her road in.
So kids... they KNOW better. Far before they're even a year old. They know. She knows I don't want her throwing her food off her chair to the dogs (she'll even pretend she's not going to and then fling it past my outstretched hand!), she knows I don't want her eating the lovely goodies she finds on the floor, she knows I don't want her "kissing" my newly shined stainless steel refrigerator. She KNOWS folks, she just doesn't care. She knows what makes her happy and that's what counts.
Boy... am I in for it. Cue my mother, laughing hysterically.
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