Happy Birthday To Her

Conversation in Target this afternoon, as Bobbin and I were shopping for her cousin's birthday present. We were in the card aisle, which is Bobbin's second favourite aisle, with Shoes being the first favourite. She had already selected a book from the $5.00 bin, and I told her she only got to choose 1 thing. And so when she saw the sparkley Unicorn birthday card in the card aisle, this is what transpired:

Bobbin: Mommy, I want that card. Can I have it please?
Me: No. It''s not your birthday. We're here to shop for "S".
Bobbin: But MOMMY. It's a UNICORN and so sparkley. Please can I have it for my birthday?
Me: Sure, when you're 5.
Bobbin: No, Mommy, I want it today. You said I could pick one thing. I don't want the book mommy. I want the birthday card. Can I have the birthday card if I put the book back?
Me: Ummm... I guess so... but, what are you going to do with the card?
Bobbin: I'm going to Happy Birthday myself for my 4 birthday Mommy.
Me: But your 4 birthday is all done.
Bobbin: But I never got myself a card for it

We actually ended up leaving the store without ANY purchases including presents and cards for the cousin. See, once I gave her permission to trade in the book for a birthday card (naive me; I'll never make that mistake again) she decided she wanted to look at ALL the cards to pick out the right one for her. After 20 minutes in the card aisle without making decisions I forced her hand and told her if she didn't have a card selected by the time I finished counting to 5, we were leaving without anything. I got to 5, and she was still undecided on whether she wanted the sparkly unicorn, the sparkly princess, or the Hello Kitty card, or whether she wanted to keep looking until she found a card that sings. Yeah. No. So Iput down the basket full of presents and the cards that we had selected, and her book, and the sparkly unicorn card, and I picked her up and carried her to the car. She was sobbing. Not screaming. Not angry. But sobbing this heartbreaking sob, hugging me, and quietly apologizing profusely for her behaviour and promising to be a good girl and asking if she'd still get to go to her cousin's birthday and saying that she was sad because she didn't have a gift for him.

We had a looooong chat in the car, I drove her home, left her with Tim, and went back on my own :-)

Comments

Those days are over...

Conversation at dinner today. For context - Sometimes, and it is completely unpredictable as to when those times are, if Bobbin gets wind of the fact that I'm planning to go somewhere without her, even if Tim is home with her, she has a temper tantrum. So I've taken to spelling out my "me time" aspirations to Tim when we're planning our weekends.

Me: Hey honey, do you work tomorrow?
Tim: Nope.
Me: Great! Then in the afternoon I'd like to go for a "W"... "A"... "L"... "K"...
Bobbin: HEY! That spells "WALK"!

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Outta Control

Ok. So our almost-4-year-old daughter has a way more active social calendar than us. I guess that's not unusual :-) But I am a little shocked at the potential for activity. Here's what the next few weeks offers up:

• Saturday July 25th: Gymnastics at noon; possible playdate in the afternoon.
• Sunday July 26th: Best friend E's b-day in the afternoon
• Saturday August 1st: School chum b-day (with pony rides) in the AM; gymnastics at noon; best friend Z's b-day in the afternoon.
• Sunday August 2nd: Bobbin's own b-day party in the afternoon
• Tuesday August 4th: Bobbin's school b-day celebration (we'll bring cupcakes and party hats :-))
• Saturday August 8th: Gymnastics.
• Sunday August 9th: Best friend A's b-day in the afternoon
• Saturday August 15th: School chum b-day in the AM; gymnastics at noon.

Somewhere in there will be best friend L's b-day as well; she was born exactly 1 week after Bobbin, and Bobbin will not want to miss her party.

That's not to say that we'll be DOING everything listed. I actually haven't told Bobbin about two of those events yet; I'll play it by ear and see how *I'm* feeling about it :-) I am still the Mom, even if I am lacking an active social life myself :-)

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Remember that time when...

Dear Mom,

Remember back in Germany, when I was turning 6 or 7 (before Sarah was born, I'm sure about that), I had a birthday party and invited all my friends over. We all wore our long dresses 'cause that was the thing for little girls to do back in 76/77. I was REALLY into barbies at the time. And pretty, shimmery, sparkly barbie clothes.

You and Dad had come up with a bunch of games for us to play at my party - stuff like pick-up-sticks and Snakes and Ladders (that's "Chutes and Ladders" to my fellow Americans. What, you all afraid of snakes down here or something? Bunch of sissies :-)).

And Mom, you had gone out and bought a bunch of prizes. Enough for all the guests at the party to get one, whether they "won" a game or not. You put them all in a plastic bag, and then would let the "1st", "2nd", "3rd" etc. winner stick their hand in the bag with their eyes closed to pick out a prize.

You showed me the prizes before the party. Or maybe I stumbled upon them myself. I don't remember exactly. But I DO remember deciding that the beautiful bright yellow polyester and chiffon-y 70's style one piece barbie halter top pantsuit trimmed in gold and with a matching cape was TO DIE FOR. I wanted it. Had to have it.

Well, At some point it was my turn to pick a prize. I scrounged around for the thing that felt most like the barbie outfit still in its flat package. I don't remember what it is I actually ended up pulling out, but I do remember it was NOT the bright yellow polyester and chiffon-y one piece barbie halter top pantsuit trimmed in gold.

I had a HUGE fit. I cried and stomped my feet and yelled NOT FAIR. Totally embarassed myself in front of my friends, I'm sure. Thankfully those were the days when parents would drop their kids off at the party and then run, so YOU weren't quite as embarassed. You sent me to my room in the middle of my party. You explained how it was my party and I had a lot of wonderful presents that my friends had brought me, and that I was acting spoiled throwing such a fit over a barbie outfit, ruining everyone's good time, and thinking only of myself. And, the kicker, was you telling me that there were in fact TWO such pantsuits to be won, but because of the way I had just acted, I was getting neither. I think I yelled and cried NOT FAIR even harder. You made me stay in my room until I had calmed down. Luckily I did so before the party ended.

Yeah... so anyway, if you went to bed that night totally exasperated and silently wished that I would grow up and have a daughter of my own that would behave in exactly the same way, I just wanted to let you know YOUR WISH HAS BEEN GRANTED.

And I want to say I'm sorry for every act of spoiled rotten behaviour I ever exhibited.

And I want to ask you to go to bed tonight and silently rescind your wish. I have now, finally, learned my lesson. No need for this to continue. I get it. It sucks. So can I have a polite daughter now?

All my sincerest love,
Your (now) sweet and well mannered, thoughtful and empathetic daughter,
Heather

P.S. Here's the story that spawned this note :-)

Previously, you will recall that I crocheted my beloved Bobbin a new dress for her baby doll. Setting a good example, was I? Let me tell you what happened.

I finished the dress after she went to bed. She knew I was making it and had been begging me to be finished with it so she could put it on her baby doll. And so after I finished it, I went into her room while she was sleeping, got one of her baby dolls and put the dress on it, and left it in the corner of her bed next to the pillow.

In the morning she woke up and came into our room, as she does often these days. And I asked her if she had seen her surprise. She ran back into the room to look on her bed. I still had the baby monitor on. I heard a crash, thump thump thump, and then her yelling "I DIDN'T WANT IT ON THIS DOLLY. I WANTED IT ON MY OTHER DOLLY. I HATE THIS DRESS". I went into her room and saw the doll laying face down on the floor.

I was totally crushed on the inside. I felt like crying. I cramped my fingers making that damn dress for her. But on the outside I said "That was rude and mean. I worked hard on this for you. You need to sit in here and think about how to graciously accept a gift. Don't come out until you've figured it out".

And yes, I did take the time to explain what the word "gracious" meant.

Then I took the dress and threw it in the timeout basket on top of the china cabinet. She erupted into tears and shrieks of "I WANT THE DRESS! I LIKE THE DRESS! GIVE ME MY DRESS BACK! IT'S MY DRESS". I sent her back to her room.

Eventually I gave it back to her. She smiled and said "Thank you, mommy. I really like this gift". Yeah. But it was genuine I think, because later on she kept referring to it as her "Princess Dress" and even took the time to note the little sparkly butterfly button I had sewn on her belt (Ben Franklin has this huge bin of stray buttons - 10 for 99 cents or something like that. I bought a bunch of the sparkly ones. Of course I had to dig through the bin for about half an hour to find them all. Me and about 3 other women, all of whom were significantly greyer than me. luckily one was on a "Zoo Animal" theme, another was on a "Nautical" theme, and the third was going for anything black. So the sparkly butterflies were all mine :-)) She also noticed the little silver sparkly bead in the back that I used as a button to close it at the top.

So yeah... eventually we ended up in a good place. But DAMN I was pissed off!

Ah well... better she learn the lesson with a gift I give her, than with one someone else does. Still.... grrrr!

So there. What comes around goes around. I can't WAIT until we hit the teenage years. Not.

Comments

A new milestone is achieved in the fine art of parental manipulation

not to mention in her grasp and usage of the English language as she masters the use of the simile:

"Mommy, you are as beautiful as a rainbow princess and you smell like a garden full of rose flowers", she says as she smiles sweetly, gazing into my eyes, cupping my face in her tiny hands.

She's good, isn't she. I admit it - I melted.

And to think this is the same mouth that also utters such phrases as "NOISY POOP-MAKER". She's nothing if not multi-faceted.

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God is like a pink teddy bear

I'm not religious. I was baptized and attended my first communion and attended a catholic church most Sundays including regular Sundays until the age of 8 or 9 I think. I sang in the church choir until the choir director decided my voice was not the sort one wants near the microphone and I was banished to the back row. When I decided I didn't want to go to church anymore, I informed my parents and they were cool with it. It was my decision. And now that I'm all grown up I still don't really know what I believe in. I'm... agnostic. I'm open to possibilities. But I'm not attached to any one belief. However I am mindful that others are, and try to be respectful of that. And I remember being admonished by my mom the first time she heard me say "Oh my GOD" because that was taking the Lord's name in vain. Although I imagine my admonishment was probably nothing like what my mother would have received from HER mother. But I am highly doubtful that my mother would have said anything of the sort in front of her mother. And I digress.

So I was a bit stumped when I first heard the words "Oh MY GOD!" pass from Bobbin's lips. My first instinct was to say that's not ok to say. But then she'd want to know why. And that would require some sort of excursion into the realm of religion. Which I would fumble, because I'm not entirely sure what I believe about God myself. And then we'd get all abstract. And it would just spiral into a bit pit of nonsensical blabber from there. At least from the viewpoint of a 3 1/2 year old. OR I could take the shortcut and just be a hypocrite. Not an example I want to set either. So instead, I went with this:

"Honey, you know some people's feelings might get hurt if you say 'Oh My God' in front of them. It's not really a nice thing to say. If you feel you really must say something you can say "Oh my gosh" instead. or "Oh my goodness". Or just "Oh my".

And sure enough, right on queue, she asked the very logical question "Why is 'Oh My God' not ok to say but 'Oh My Gosh' is ok to say? Why Mommy? Will it make people cry?"

To which I replied "Well, probably not. But it isn't appropriate. And it might offend some people"

To which she responded "Why isn't it appropriate? Why will it make people upset?"

And here we go. Standing at the edge of a very steep cliff, the wind blowing fiercely against our backs.

"Well, honey, think of someone that's really really special to you", I said.

"My pink teddy bear!" she replied enthusiastically.

"Ok, good. Now your pink teddy bear is really really special to you right? And if someone came up to you and shouted 'That bear is yucky!' it would probably make you feel a little angry right? Because the bear is special and you love it, and you want people to treat it with respect".

"My bear IS special. Everyone should respect my bear"

"Ok, well, some people feel that 'God' is very special to them. And to hear someone say "Oh My God!" when they're upset, it's like you're being disrespectful to 'God' because they think 'God' is special. And they might not feel very happy about it. And so we don't say it in that way".

"God is like my pink teddy bear. It's special".

Yeah. Hell, that works for me. And then we moved on to lullabies. Thank God.

Comments

Extreme

I took Bobbin to soccer today. The new class she's in doesn't "require" parent participation on the field; encourages the kids to go on the field by themselves. Most of us parents though, end up starting out on the field and slowly backing off to the sidelines once things get going :-) And throughout the "game", Robyn and other kids will run back to the sidelines for a quick hug and kiss :-) She's doing really well with this arrangement. It helps that her BFF is in the same class with her. She starts off shy but quickly gets into her groove once all the running and ball kicking starts.

So we're there this morning, and Bobbin is on the field with the other kids, and this mom and her daughter - can't be more than 3 years old - show up a bit late. The mom tells the little girl to go ahead out on the field and the little girl freaks out and begs her mom to come with her. Her mom refuses, and tells her to go out there now. The little girl launches a temper tantrum, crying and screaming and begging not to go. The mom starts shouting "I'm sick and tired of these tantrums". I can relate to the emotion and frustration in her voice; a day of tantrums is really really really rough. And I take antidepressants. Then the mom yells "Get on the field NOW". More crying and screaming. The Mom then says "If you're not going to play soccer, then give me your soccer uniform. It's mine". At this point the hysterics get much louder and I stand aside from where I had been watching Bobbin and turn around and see that the mom has stripped her daughter down naked except for her underpants, right in the middle of the soccer arena - kids and parents and coaches everywhere - and starts marching her down towards the main area in nothing but her undies. The little girl is in tears. I was in tears. I wanted to reach out and hug the little girl. I wanted to keep her warm. I wanted to at least wrap something around her for her to be comfortable. I did nothing. I did not know what I could do or should do. I suck. And felt ashamed and like a horrible human being for witnessing this and doing nothing.

About 5 minutes later the little girl was back, fully clothed, with her father. She was not crying. She was holding her father's hand. I did not see the mother. The father took her out onto the field and she went without crying. He stayed with her a bit as they played. He slowly backed off the field; the same routine the rest of us parents took. For a few seconds she was ok, but then she ran back to her father, who scooped her up and carried her away.

I still feel sick to my stomach. For what I watched and also what I didn't do.

Every mom has those moments. You've been listening to the tantrums and fighting the battle of wills too much and you just want it to stop. And you say or do something you'd never have done in a level headed, logical moment. It's tiring and hard, and draining. So I can see how a person gets there. I've been there. It's once your there and what you decide to do about it that matters. Yelling... I've done it. Threatening the loss of a special treat ("No McDonalds at lunch" or "No movie after dinner"). Yup. Locking myself in my room for some "quiet time". Done it. Carried my daughter out of a public place because she was screaming and throwing food. Yup. Straight to the car and home. But this was extreme. Before I got to the point that I was stripping my daughter down naked in a public place and forcing her to walk through the building while berating her for being a crying baby, I believe I'd get quiet, pick her up, carry her to the car, and just go home. And then later we'd talk about what the issue was with soccer. If Tim was with me and I was feeling that overwhelmed, before I got to that point I'd hand him the reigns and go to the bathroom and have myself a quiet cry. In either case, my daughter wouldn't be forced onto a field she didn't want to be on to play a game she didn't want to play, with a bunch of strangers she didn't know in order to avoid being stripped down to her underpants as punishment.

What would you do if you had been me?

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debate day

I left Bobbin in tears. Meaning, she was in tears and I was in tears. Our new Preschool has very limited parking, and so if the director sees your car has been out there for "a while", as is the case this first week of Bobbin attending by herself, they tell you you need to get a move on. They're polite and all, but it broke my rhythm, and after having to pull myself away from the pleading hug to not go to work and then mustering a cheerfully sunny smile and wave from the car before breaking down into tears of my own, I headed in to work.

Debate: Go to work and lose myself in hopeful productivity, or go home and lose myself in my king size bed cover. I called Tim and have him remind me why I don't suck as a mother AND an employee / senior manager.

at 2pm my head was filled with snot, my eyes were glazed after staring at budget spreadsheets all day. I can only breath through my mouth. My head is pounding.

Debate: Leave work early on a friday; who's gonna notice, Stay and get my budget stuff done so I don't have it hanging over my head, which already has a cloud of snot hanging over it right now. I cranked out the budget stuff, kept my scheduled 1:1s. Headed out at my usual 5pm.

By the time I got home, after chugging down a large bottle of organic fresh squeezed orange juice in the car, I started thinking about plans for the evening.

Debate: Stay home, take a really long, hot, aromatherapy bubble bath, wrap myself up in my big cozy bathrobe, and snuggle under the covers of my big cozy bed while Tim takes Bobbin to D,B, and Z's house for friday night. Or do I give myself a break and enjoy a nice dinner with friends while Bobbin (hopefully) plans with Z and E. Iwas feeling better by the time I got home, after all that orange juice, and chasing it down with an Airborne fizz, that I decided to wash my hands thoroughly and join the gang.

On the drive, we listened to the presidential debate. Well, as well as we could with a 3 year old belting out songs from the back seat. It's ok, we recorded it. And so once we got Bobbin in bed at 9:45am we turned it on. Tim went to bed before it was over but I plowed through all 90 minutes of it. It was alright. I tell ya, the one I'm REALLY looking forward to is the vice-presidential debate!

Here's something I won't debate: I'm tired. Heading to bed.

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Bracing for the storm

4 days of 60 consecutive minutes of aerobic workout, 2 days of 30 consecutive minute workouts. Technically I've exceeded my weekly goal of 3 60s and 2 30s and I'm only 5 days into the week! I'm gonna need the extra credit.. next week's gonna be a bitch.

Tim and I made a very very very hard decision today to enroll Bobbin in a new preschool. Her current daycare, as I've mentioned previously, served us well for 3 years but over the course of the summer a lot of changes happened and despite us trying to work with them on getting to some common ground, it just wasn't on a path to getting resolved to our satisfaction. And so we began a search for new options this week, and wham bam, in the informed yet decisive way that is mine, we have analyzed the results, assessed the risks, and made a decision.

Bobbin's last day at her current daycare will be Monday. We started talking with her about it today, and will spend time talking with her about it in depth tomorrow, Saturday, Sunday and Monday. We'll write cards to the teachers to say thank you and goodbye. We''ll write notes to the parents of her friends with our contact info so we can hopefully get the kids together semi-regularly since she's been with many of them for 3 years now.

Tim and I are sure we have made the right choice. The teacher and classroom consistency is what we are looking for, the teachers are highly qualified and from what I've seen from my visits there, are highly interactive and clearly care about the children. Three different parent reference checks came back with glowing feedback, as well as some concrete things that they'd like to see the school do better but none of those things are deal-breakers. Overall I think it is a much more stable and consistent and dependable environment than the one she is in currently.

I took Bobbin there today on the way home from her other school. We talked about where I was taking her. We arrived and she marched up the steps like she owned it, and started looking around the room as I talked with the director. Actively looking. Touching. I was surprised. Then I told her we could go check out the playground and the forest and that was all she needed to hear. We were there for about an hour; the buildings had all closed but the director said we can use the outdoor grounds any time - weekends, etc - now that she's enrolled. We'll take her up on that this weekend. Get Bobbin feeling familiar with the space.

To accomodate the transition I'm taking Tuesday morning off, and we'll spend a half-day at her new school together and then come home for the rest of the day, during which I'll attempt to work from home. On Wednesday Tim will take her to the new school and they'll spend a half day there together and then come home for the rest of the day while I work all day. Thursday and Friday I'll spend all day with Bobbin at her new school hangin'. Saturday and Sunday we'll go play there together. Monday I'll spend half a day there with her and then hopefully, leave her there on her own and happy the rest of the day.

That's the plan. It's complicated. And while I wouldn't have done anything different, I do feel guilty about the two mornings I've taken off from work this week to tour daycare centers and interview daycare directors. Tim's had to do the same. And now I'm taking 2 and a half days off next week and a half day off the following week.

Next week, I predict that my wednesday blog entry will be filled with regrets and self doubts about whether we did the right thing for Bobbin; whether I'm meeting my responsibilities at work; etc. etc.

And so the vicious cycle continues.

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Brrriiiiiing... Hello? Is this Mommy's bluff? Hey! I've been trying to call you all day. Where ya been?

Me: Ok, let's get dressed.
Bobbin: No.
Me: No watermelon juice till you get dressed.
Bobbin: Ok. I don't WANT watermelon juice. I don't want to get dressed. I want to play.
Me: No Curious George till you get dressed.
Bobbin: I don't WANT to watch TV. I want to play.
Me: Daddy will have to take you to school if you don't get dressed now.
Bobbin: NO! MOMMY!

Score one for me.
...

Me: Ok honey, let's go home.
Bobbin: No.
Me: No TV. No Candy. No stories before bedtime if you don't come with me now.
Bobbin: No. I want to play. 5 minutes.
Me: No 5 minutes; I already gave you 5 minutes. We need to leave now.
Bobbin: 2 minutes.
Me: You'll miss out on dinner: Hotdogs and macaroni and cheese - if we don't leave now.
Bobbin: It's gonna get cold?
Me: Yes.
Bobbin: I don't want dinner. I want to play.
Me: (coming up blank) Ok then...
Bobbin: You gonna leave without me?
Me: (pausing briefly) No. I can't leave without you. I'd get arrested. But I will pick you up and carry you to the car if I have to.
Bobbin: I'm COMING. I SAID I am coming. You don't NEED to get ANGRY. That's NOT ok.
...

Bobbin: I don't WANT to wash my hands and face.
Me: You rubbed hotdog on your cheeks. You have to wash your face. Do you want Tommy to lick you?
Bobbin: SHUT UP!
Me: (carrying her into her room and depositing her on her bed) You do NOT say those words to me or to anyone. That was rude and disrespectful. That is NOT ok to say.
Bobbin: Caleb says it at school.
Me: I don't care who says it. It's not ok to say. Does the teacher tell Caleb not to say it at school?
Bobbin: Yes.
Me: Then no more.
Bobbin: SHUT UP.
Me: Time out time. 3 minutes.
Bobbin: (as I'm walking out of her room and closing her door, she's singing to herself) Twinkle, twinkle little star... Shut UP Cinderella! I like you.

...

Yes Dad, Mom... payback's a bitch.

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I'm not one, am I?

I can't help but second guess myself, after seeing an episode of Dr. Phil (or was it Oprah?) recently about Helicopter Moms. This is the letter I recently wrote to our daycare director. I don't think it's over the top. But I still wonder if I'm over protective or if they'll read this and think I'm just another nutjob Mom trying to protect her daughter from everyday life.

To: The Director and Management Staff

My daughter has been in the care of this daycare for almost 3 years and overall I have been very happy with her experience and with the quality of care and level of support she is receiving here. The teachers are skilled, professional, caring, and clearly have my daughter’s best interests at heart. She has formed great bonds of trust, respect, and love with each of her primary teachers throughout these years and I have been overall very satisfied and confident with my choice to entrust her daytime care to the staff at this location. The fact that many of the teachers have been on the staff for multiple years also speaks to the fact that the management clearly values the teachers and provides a supportive environment for them in which they can and want to do their best work. Prior to [Director's Name] leave of absence I felt well informed about what was happening in the school, and was pleased that when I did on occasion raise concerns or issues, that she understood them and took swift and appropriate action and always followed back up with me. I felt that this level of information and diligence was well maintained by [Acting Director] in the initial weeks after [Director's] absence. However I have become increasingly concerned over the last several weeks on the following points and although I have voiced my concerns verbally on several occasions, I’ve not seen any real indications of sustained change or commitment to change and thus feel the need to formally communicate my concerns via this letter.

My concerns:

1) The lack of consistency in the physical classroom and teacher that my daughter begins her day with. During the month of August , at least twice a week, we would arrive at school at 8:30am expecting to be able to go to the Toddler class until Preschool opened only to be told upon arrival that the regular Toddler class teacher was taking one of the older classes that morning due to lack of students in the Preschool class. That combined with the natural and expected occasional absences of teachers due to doctor appointments, scheduled vacations, or sick days where I understand and respect the fact that accommodations have to be made and routines temporarily changed to cover, meant a significant amount of inconsistency in my daughter’s morning routine. This manifested itself in my daughter’s behavior in the form of increasingly anxiety going to bed at night and in the morning when getting ready for school because she was not sure which teacher or class she was going to end up in. Just this morning, we arrived at 8:30am to find that none the age-appropriate classes were open and that all of the children in the daycare at that time (all age groups) were divided between two classes. As I stood in the hall with my daughter trying to determine where she was to go, there was confusion and delay as the teachers tried to determine whether or not to open the age-appropriate classrooms and how to divide up the children and who would go to each class. I appreciate that this school is a business that, like any other, is concerned about keeping costs low and consolidating where possible to save money but the lack of consistency especially for the younger age groups and especially during a time of transition, is extremely destabilizing and disruptive and ultimately the cost is borne out by the child who no longer has a sense of safety and predictability in routine.

2) The lack of advanced notice – both verbal and written - regarding permanent or semi-permanent changes that are being made to the teacher and physical classroom in which my daughter will begin her day. In August a decision was apparently made by Management that the larger back classroom would become the EPreschool classroom and that [Teacher] would be the Preschool classroom teacher from 8:30am until the regular teacher arrived. I was not informed of this change until the day before it occurred, and that was only after I had initiated the conversation, and even then I was not given a firm timeframe as to when the change would occur, nor was I given a clear answer as to whether it was a permanent or semi-permanent change. Advance notice of such changes enables me to prepare my daughter in advance so that she knows what to expect when she arrives at school.

3) The lack of formal written notification regarding staff changes and new staff introductions. In recent weeks I’ve perceived a change in the staff administration and management. I am not sure whether there has in fact been a change in administration and management but there have been several indications that something is different. It is unclear to me whether [Staff Member] is now part of the administrative staff and what her role is; it is not clear who is responsible for teacher staffing decisions and teacher scheduling; it is not clear whether [Acting Director's] role has changed and if so what her current responsibilities are and what her hours of availability are. It is also not clear whether [Director's] leave of absence is extended and whether she will be returning or whether her responsibilities are being permanently reassigned to someone else. It is not clear who I should voice complaints or concerns to, and who will follow up on them when I do voice them.

4) The lack of clear, published, and firmly committed opening time for the Preschool classes. I have asked multiple times for a firmly committed opening time for class, and every time I’m told that the start time is “usually around 8:30am”. I need to be able to count on a consistent start time for my daughter’s class opening in order to be able to appropriately plan my work schedule, and in order for my daughter to have a consistent, predictable, reliable routine and schedule. “Usually around 8:30am unless something comes up” is not a firm commitment.

5) More proactive sharing of information during transition from one classroom to the next. When my daughter reached the age where she could begin transitioning to the Preschool class, I did receive a written letter informing me of her readiness and of the target transition start date. But there was no additional information provided about the following basics:

a. The name of the teacher(s) who would be in charge of the class

b. What time the class opened daily

c. What the teacher(s)’ schedules are (are there different teachers at different times of the day as with previous classes; is it one teacher from 8:30 – 5:30, etc)

d. What the approximate class size would be (would there just be one teacher with one class in the room, or would there be two teachers in the room for a larger number of children)

e. Whether the level of detail would change in the reports we received (will there continue to be a daily report or is it now a weekly report)

f. What if any key differences in the daily routine we should expect and prep our daughter for (or if the routine is generally the same – e.g. snack times, lunch times, nap times, etc indication that these things will not change significantly from what she is used to).

6) The lack of consistent reporting in the Preschool classroom. This is never an issue when the primary teacher is present. The primary teacher is extremely diligent in providing clear, daily communication via the daily preschool reports on my daughter’s behavior and activity during the day. However it is a constant issue if someone other than the primary teacher has been running the class or if my daughter’s been placed into another class due to a teacher absence or for load balancing reasons, which as per my previous points, has been occurring with increasing frequency in recent weeks.

As I mentioned in my opening of this letter, overall I have been happy with the quality of care and support that my daughter receives but these changes are causing me to rethink my child care decisions and to look at other options that can provide more stability and predictability for her and that are more proactive in communicating with parents. It is unfortunate because my daughter has formed some strong bonds with the staff here, and strong friendships with the other children in her class. But the lack of predictability and consistent routine has been extremely disruptive to her – she has increased difficulty getting to sleep; she is increasingly anxious in the morning before school; she is having an increasingly difficult time separating from me in the mornings.

Please let me know your response to these concerns.

Tell me... am I a nutjob mom who is overreacting?

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Sending out an RFP: Request to Fess-up Please

I was reading another blog earlier today and in it in passing was stated a fact or an assumption (I don't remember which, or even if it was clear) that many moms the author knows who work full time as well, solicit help from services like housecleaning, meal prep, grocery buying, etc. etc. And I was thinking that none o the moms that I know, get this kind of domestic help on a recurring basis. And then I met a coworker who admitted her housecleaning service was off for two weeks because they ran into some unexpected expenses and couldn't have them come this month so I guess it does happen.

I would love to have a house cleaner. And someone to do my laundry (which includes putting it away). And when Tim's not around to cook, or is too tired to cook, I'd like to get someone else to bring me and Bobbin a proper meal. And then to clean up after it.

So I need to know from you moms out there... are you hiding something? Do you have people coming to clean your house or bring you food or cook your meals or do your grocery shopping? If not, and you could "outsource" one chore each week, what would it be?

Our house isn't completely awful. But it isn't winning any home of the month awards (actually that's not true. It has won a home of the month award. But that was shortly after we moved in when we were still squeaky clean, Bobbin was only 22 inches long and spent most of her time sleeping and could not change location of her own volition much less amass enough toys for me to be considered it messy where she was. Our house was NEVER so clean as when it was photographed for the magazine issue where it was featured as Home of the Month). I should probably rephrase that and say, Our house isn't completely awful. But Tim and I are not winning any cleanest home of the month awards. Not in this or any months.

It's so hard to keep up on everything, and once you do take care of something, there's something else that was made much worse just by the sheer fact that it took you so long to take care fo the first thing and the instigator got bored and went on to play with 10 other things that each had a lot of little pieces to pick up.

My biggest pet peeves are:

1) Dust Bunnies.
2) stuff lying all over the house where it doesn't belong
3) Dirty dishes piling up in the sink
4) Sticky spots on the floor.
5) Windows that are gathering a light layer of dust because we've washed them a total of NEVER times since we moved in. Except for the parts that Bobbin can reach with her hand and face. I try to do those once a month.

I've fantasized about winning the big lottery and getting someone to come in daily to do the icky stuff I don't like. Laundry, floor, dusting. But then I think that how will Bobbin ever establish good habits for herself as she gets older and goes off to college if she sees someone we're paying to come in and keep things clean. So there would need to be boundaries in terms of what would get done by the helper vs what would get done by us as independant adults (and budding independant preschooler) responsible for ourselves and our home and possessions. In the end I think having someone come over to vaccuum and mop the floors and clean the windows and clean the bathtub on a regular basis would be a good compromise.

Really... you can tell me. I'll keep it a secret. Do you have any regular "outside" help, keeping y'all in line in some way shape or form? Or some shortcut?

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The contents of my purse is worth a thousand words

Cleaning out my purse this morning and I came up with

• 2 domino pieces
• 1 orange plastic cupcake
• 1 crushed green lollipop still in the wrapper
• 1 almost-empty tube of kids sunscreen
• 1 long-lost grocery list
• 3 pens that don't work
• 1 bluetooth ear bud in need of charging
• 1 wadded up daily report from Bobbin's school
• 1 slightly sticky recipe for "Monkey Bars"
• My therapist's business card

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60 Questions

That's how many she asked this morning in the car ride to school, which lasted 12 minutes. 5 questions per minute seems to be a pretty consistent rate for Bobbin. And so, it begs some calculating.

Starting at around 7am when she wakes up until about 8pm when she goes to bed, subtract 2 hours (optimistic) for a nap, and that's 11 hours of questions at 5 questions per minute which equates to 3,300 questions per day. Since I'm not with her during school hours I don't really know if she actually sustains that rate. I suspect not given the number of other distractions and activities and the fact that there are a bunch of other kids in the class amongst whom the teacher must divide her attention. But that leaves about 4 hours per day when we're together, and that roughly comes out to about 1,200 questions that I'm answering each day.

That feels about right :-)

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So clean you can eat off them

I spent today recovering from my 24 hours in hotel solitude bliss by washing the kitchen and dining room floors. On my hands and knees. In preparation for Sunday's preschooler extravaganza, a.k.a Bobbin's 3rd birthday party.

All told we're expecting about 8 kids including the guest of honour, and 14 or so adults. The floors - they will not be clean at the end of the party. I know this. But at least I can take comfort knowing that when the kiddos start eating the food they dropped on the floor - 'cause they do that - they're likely not going to be ingesting toxic spores from the year-old mold that's been growing on the sticky spot where Bobbin spit her oranges that day last summer, or where the cat puked up the piece of pasta that she had stolen from my plate last fall. 'Cause it'd been about that long since I last washed these floors.

All the same, if it's a nice day, I think we'll just serve the cake and ice cream outside on the deck.

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Add this one to the "Bad Mommy" short list

At least she's too young to really know I'm not on top of things and doesn't yet have an opinion about it :-)

This weekend was jam packed with activity: birthday present shopping; cleaning house; visits from cousins Jake, Stef, and Baby K; soccer; an evening with friends; a 4-mile walk; Tim working; Miss E's birthday party. And so it isn't terribly surprising, is it, that I awoke this morning to realize that

a) Bobbin had no clean underwear (actually - she did have clean underwear; they just weren't dry yet :-))

b) We had NO breakfast food in the house whatsoever. No bread. No cereal. No waffles. No pancakes. Nada. It was a toss up between mac & cheese or Elmo Vegetable soup, neither of which really seemed appropriate (although I guess they would have been fine).

On the plus side, the house was still spotless from all of our cleaning efforts this weekend. Bobbin was a huge help with that; she loves to clean. But that was really of no consequence given that I had a super hungry preschooler who wasn't wearing any underwear under the dress that she often insists on pulling up around her waist when she's running.

So I popped a pair of her wet undies in the dryer, got her some blueberries, got dressed, and announced we'd be having breakfast at "The Apple Store" (aka PCC) this morning on the way to school. Man, was I the hero that saved the day from myself. She was so excited she only complained mildly about her undies still being slightly wet when I put them on her in the laundry room and shuttled her toward the door.

Breakfast was a hit - all organic - turkey sausage, cheesy scrambled eggs, toast with raspberry jam, and some fresh strawberries and blueberries, and some watermelon juice. I had to make the toast myself by buying a loaf of bread and some jam and toasting it in their free-for-all toaster in the hot foods area. But hey - now we have us some breakfast food in the house. Two birds; one stone (albeit an expensive stone. An all organic prepared meal does not come cheap, even when served in toddler-sized portions on a paper plate). Bobbin chowed down, although it took her close to an hour to get to the point where she was full. She left the store with one hand grasping a slice of toast with jam, and the other tightly gripping a large organic strawberry, both of which she refused to give up despite her announcement to the store that her tummy was full. She ate both in the car on the way to school. We arrived at 9:30am, an hour later than usual, and Bobbin was completely covered head to toe, literally, in jam. I had to practically sponge bathe her at the toddler sink before we went into the classroom.

And the worst part is... as I sit here and type this I realized that I went to the grocery store TWICE today and STILL forgot to buy pancakes and waffles. Ah well - we do have fresh bread and jam. She'll have toast in the morning :-)

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Ain't THAT the truth!

In the monthly "What to expect at X months" email from babycenter.com that arrived in my inbox this morning, I read

"As the need to discipline your child increases, Mom and Dad have ever more opportunities to disagree on an appropriate response. (Sometimes couples who thought they knew one another so well are surprised by the degree to which they disagree about how to raise a child.)"

I guess there's something to be said for knowing we're not the only ones ;-)

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I'm sure they tried.

On the way home from our usual friday night festivities, Bobbin pointed out the blinking red lights on the skyscrapers in the city as we passed by on the freeway and asked "Why those red lights are going on and off and on and off?"

I explained it was so that airplanes could see them and would know there were tall buildings so they would fly high above them.

Bobbin: Why airplanes need to fly high above the buildings?
Me: So that they don't crash into the buildings.
Bobbin: Why they don't want to crash into the buildings?
Me: Well because a lot of people would get hurt if the airplane crashed into the building.
Bobbin: Why a lot of people would get hurt?
Me: Because there are a lot of people on the airplane, and there are a lot of people in the building, so if the airplane crashed into the building, all of the people on the airplane and all of the people in the building would get very hurt very badly.
Bobbin: and then the fire trucks would come?
Me: Yes, then the fire trucks would come.
Bobbin: Why there would be a fire?
Me: Because that's what happens when airplanes crash into buildings.
Bobbin: And the fire fighters would help all the people?
Me: Well, sometimes the fire fighters and fire trucks wouldn't be able to help all the people, even though they'd try very hard to.
Bobbin: Why they cannot help all the people?
Me: Because when an airplane crashes into a building it's sometimes way high up in the building and the fire truck ladders cannot reach that high.
Bobbin: But the mommies can help the people.
Me: The Mommies?
Bobbin: The mommies on the airplane. The mommies would help and save all the people.

The last statement was uttered with such pure faith and conviction that I couldn't help but get a tear in my eye.

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Late to the game but still fired up

Janel sent the Friday Gang a book review for a book by LInda R. Hirshman entitled "Get to Work: And Get a Life, Before It's Too Late"

The review was by Sandra Tsing Loh and I'm not entirely sure what her opinion was of the book or author; She came across to me as a bit annoying at the beginning but when I actually took the (long long long) time to read through to the end of her review I think I liked her wit and sarcasm. Whether or not I read the book that she is apparently publishing and releasing shortly is undecided But I do know that the review made me decide unequivocally that the book she was reviewing was not a book that I was interested in actually reading, and the opinion I was left with was that Linda R. Hirshman's view of the world was more likely to just piss me off than entertain me.

And apparently I'm not alone; I guess I've been living under the proverbial rock when the book came out and sparked apparently much debate and critique in the internet blogosphere. Ah well... yet one more thing I missed while I had my head buried in my ever-growing pile of self-doubt, working-mom guilt, and stinky laundry.

It's clear from the review I read as well as the publisher's remarks that Hirshman thinks very little of women who have chosen to stay home after having a child, vs continuing their careers.

The quote that really annoyed me: "Although child rearing, unlike housework, is important and can be difficult, it does not take well-developed political skills to rule over creatures smaller than you are, weaker than you are, and completely dependent upon you for survival or thriving. Certainly, it's not using your reason to do repetitive, physical tasks, whether it's cleaning or driving the car pool. My correspondent's life does have a certain Tom Sawyerish quality to it, but she has no power in the world. Why would the congressmen she writes to listen to someone whose life so resembles that of a toddler's, Harvard degree or no?"

Power in the world. In my book raising and teaching another human being the qualities that allow them to be kind, caring, empathetic, responsible, giving, independent, confident, questioning, challenging, contributing beings in life is wielding a fair amount of power. As for who the congress men (and women) do and do not listen to and why - our politics is flawed on so many levels at this point that it's meangingless to try and argue that a stay-at-home mother is going to have any less influence than I would as a working mom. I don't have any influence either. Neither do the majority of the "regular people" working or not in this country.

As for the level of skill it takes to "rule over creatures smaller than you are, weaker than you are, and completely dependant upon you for survival or thriving" I think that is a very myopic view of what it takes to raise a child in the world today. It's true that it is not rocket science. And it's true that the problems that are being solved at home are different than the ones that are being solved at work. But it is inappropriate to try and draw conclusions or comparisons about the skill involved in doing one vs the other.

I recently learned through an old friend that a high school classmate of ours has a child that was born with Cerebral Palsy. There was a spot on a local news show about their family that I watched on the internet. The skills that it must take him and his wife on a daily basis, to care for their daughter, to care for the rest of their family, to move themselves and their family forward and give them hope and opportunity and strength and unconditional love and encouragement and support is a skill I will never ever ever claim to exercise in the work that I do in my 45+ hour week high tech management job that provides me with full benefits, a pretty wide scope of responsibility, and a competitive salary. How can you compare the two? Our lives are completely different, filled with different requirements, different skills, different circumstances and in many cases those circumstances aren't choices that a person gets to make for him or herself.

Anyway... I think my friend Debra (who really does need to get a blog at this point; C'mon Debra; I set my sister up. I can set you up too. You know you want it ;-)) summed it up best with her response to the review which was "if the kids aren't raised well, we ALL pay the price" and "Irregardless of whether we are at home or at work, if we are all cranky or sucking the life out of the system or thrashing on others, we are not at our full potential. Tell me how that contributes to having 'a life'?".

I have such smart friends :-)

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No More Crayons

A couple of weeks ago I stopped at the bookstore and picked up a couple of new picture books for Bobbin. "The Bunnies are Not in their Beds" by Marisabina Russo, and "A Day with No Crayons" by Elizabeth Rusch. Both were instant hits but the favourite by far is the Crayon book. And it seemed I was quite timely in my selection of this book. It came in handy today.

The book is about a little girl named Liza who loves to colour. But when she runs out of paper and gets caught in the act of colouring on her bedroom wall, her mother promptly confiscates the tools of her crime and Liza must get through an ENTIRE DAY without any crayons. She manages to find ways to entertain herself and make and discover art in other creative ways and in the end she finds she didn't miss them so much after all.

Bobbin loves to make art. She absolutely adores painting. And so when I bought her some Crayola Paint Brush Pens for her to be able to keep in her room and use anytime without asking (I'm in charge of the regular paints; they're not readily accessible at her whim) she was really ecstatic.

Usually she sits at the table or her desk to draw and paint but today she decided to arrange herself and her paper and pens on our floor. The solid brazilian cherry floor that just last weekend I had spent hours on my hands and knees cleaning so I could get at every nook and cranny myself. After about 10 months of buildup I started getting annoyed and just generally disgusted whenever my socks, or worse my bare feet, would stick to the floor as I walked through the house. But I digress.

And so I said "Ok, but we have two rules. Can you guess what they are?"

" Y' know?" she replied, which is her usual response to these questions.

"Rule 1: NO colouring on the floor. Colour on the paper only. Not the floor. Got it?" She nodded her head emphatically. "Rule 2: When you are finished your painting, you put the caps on and put your pens away. Ok?" which solicited another somber nod. I asked her to repeat the rules back to me, which she did, and then I asked her what would happen if she didnt' follow the rules. "Mommy take my paintbrushes away and I cannot use them again". We seemed good.

It wasn't 10 minutes later that I then found her laying on the floor on her stomach, colouring book well out of reach, non-chalantly brushing her marker back and forth over the same spot over and over. Purple. On purpose. Clearly intentional. I asked her what she was doing and she looked up and stated the obvious. I picked up the rest of her pens and then spent the next 5 minutes quietly demanding that she turn over the purple one still in her hand. She started out defiant in her "No!" answer, but when she saw I wasn't letting up they turned to pleads, and then she started negotiating and promising "I will not paint on the floor again, I will not Mommy, please, I will not and I will clean it up". She finally turned over the last pen when I showed her the deep purple stain on the hardwood floor. The big, deep purple stain. The stain from the "washable" paint brush pens that refused to be wiped away with soap and water, and that only faded slightly when I applied something a little more harsh. She knew she was done.

I deposited the pens in what I mockingly refer to as the "Cubby of Confiscation" when I use it, or as Bobbin mispronounces it, the "Cubby of Constipation". It's a small wicker basket I keep on top of the china cabinet for just such purposes. Confiscation purposes, not constipation purposes. And then while she was sobbing uncontrollably I took her on my lap and reminded her about her picture book, and we talked about what Liza had done, and what her Mommy had done, and how this was just like what Liza had done and I took her pens away from her for the same reason Liza's Mommy took Liza's crayons away from Liza. In the end she acquiesced. It seemed fair. Liza's Mommy had done the same thing. It happened in a picture book; it must not be so bad.

I managed to get her out of her blues and back to her jovial self by enticing her outside to blow bubbles on the deck after putting the cubby back on the top of the china cabinet. The pens were not forgotten completely however, and she would refer to them repeatedly throughout the day. "Mommy, 'member when I was colouring with my pens and I coloured on the floor and that was not ok and so you took my pens and I cannot have them now until tomorrow, just like Liza". I reminded her repeatedly that Liza managed to have fun despite having no crayons for the day. We went to the park and fed the ducks and geese, and played at the playground, and rode her tricycle all up and down the bike path, and generally had a great afternoon but every so often she'd bring up the pen incident as a reminder. "Member, Mommy, when I did that?"

I had intended to give them back tomorrow but later this afternoon she willingly volunteered to help me clean the house. I gave her our little Dirt Devil portable broom vacuum thingie, and she went to town from one end of the house to the other while I used the "real" vacuum to do the carpets. When we had finished and put the vacuums away, I thanked her and praised her for being such a great helper and gave her a big hug and kiss. And that's when she looked up at me and said "Mommy, maybe I can have my pens back now please?"

This time, I put a mat underneath her paper and pens.

Not even three yet. Man are we in trouble.

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Someone... somewhere... must appreciate the crap that I am doing for them.

Yes, with this post I am indulging myself in a nice, warm, comforting bubble bath of self pity. If you don't like it, go find another blog to read.

I work hard. Hard hard hard. I try hard. Hard hard hard. I work and try hard to be a great mom. I try hard to be a great wife. I work and try hard to be a great manager. I work hard to be a great employee, I try hard to be a great human being. I try to be a good sister and daughter. I have 30+ years experience at the latter two and so these ones I feel I'm actually doing ok at and not as worried about as the rest. My sister, I'm sure, will let me know if I'm offbase here ;-). The rest though... don't have that 30+ years of experience to help me feel confident that I know what I'm doing and am doing it ok. Even the wife part, despite Tim's constant reassurances and sweet support when I get into these funks. Because if I was a good wife I wouldn't make him have to reassure me so much and prop up my confidence. Therefore I must suck.

I know don't work hard to be a great cousin/neice/aunt/daughter-in-law and I feel bad about that. I love my extended family members dearly but man, it is hard. I also admit I don't work as hard to be a great friend as I used to. I don't keep in touch with people outside family really well; I am not as approachable as I used to be; I tend not to have much time to spend with friends outside of work and family.

But all that work and trying that I am doing is making me tired and really really really cranky.

Because it seems that no matter where I turn or who I am working "for" at that moment in time or how much time I am devoting to them, someone is always wanting something more than what I am giving.

More time.

More help.

More sympathy.

More empathy.

More devoted attention.

More 1:1 time.

More listening.

More problem solving.

More road unblocking.

More moral support.

More representation.

More opportunity.

More visibility.

More work group health.

More productivity.

More money.

More advice.

It's all about what more I can do for them. It's never about what I have done or are already doing for them.

And so, I sit, unable to tell people to back off; to tell them to go find someone else to care; to go do something about their own problems; to go get a better job/manager/career/mentor/representative/friend (note: mother and wife are NOT substitutable) because I aim to please. That's me. And it sucks.

I have 24 hours in a day. During the week, this is how I get to spend it on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays:

7am - 8:10am: Bobbin time. Get Bobbin out of bed. Get Bobbin dressed. Get Bobbin breakfast. Help Bobbin brush teeth, go potty, pack her napsack. Spend a bit of time cuddling with Bobbin and getting some quality 1:1 time in with her. Check email briefly and respond to urgent stuff and verify my schedule for the morning. Then put Bobbin in the car and head off to daycare.

8:10am - 8:30am: Drive to daycare. Take advantage of the time by singing with Bobbin, talking with Bobbin, answering questions, and having fun before having to part ways for the bulk of the day.

8:30am - 8:40am: Get Bobbin settled into school - knapsack and coat put away, yogurt snack ready, Goodbye hug and kiss.

8:40am - 9:00am. Stop at starbucks and get my hot chocolate and bagel. Revel in the momentary silence and then instantly feel a pang of guilt because I really do want to spend every waking moment with my daughter but at the same time need to have a little bit of me time and that's not selfish is it? Arrive at work at 9am.

9:00am - 9:30am. *IF* I am lucky, I get 30 minutes to get settled in, catch up on email, and respond to priority emails before having to spend the bulk of the day in various meetings. I manage a team of 30 people at this point in time. Of those 30 people, 7 of them report directly to me. 1 of my direct reports is on parental leave until mid-summer which means I also am having to allocate some portion of my time to helping to manage his 5 direct reports. Of my 7 direct reports, 1 of them works out of Europe, the other out of Asia. The other 5 are US based. the rest of my 30 employees are distributed across the US and Europe. IIn addition to having a team of 30 people to manage located in multiple regions, all of the projects that my team owns require heavy cross-group and cross-team collaboration and so we have a pretty complicated dependancy and relationship matrix that also must get managed. And of course, I myself have a manager who expects me to be able to deal with all of this stuff pretty autonomously because he himself has 3 other teams reporting to him and mine is one of the smallest of the four total that he is responsible for.

9:30am - 12pm. Meetings. Which are usually anything ranging from 1:1s with my direct reports, to impromptu meetings with non-direct reports within my team, to recurring meetings with other teams and/or managers that cover any range of topics from particular project reviews to business reviews, to quality of service reviews, to external partner meetings, to business deal reviews, etc.

12pm - 1pm. I try and reserve this for lunch and am pretty successful, but it is important to note that lunch consists of me running across the parking lot to the cafeteria, grabbing whatever is ready-to-eat, and coming back to my office to eat it and catch up on email at the same time.

1pm - 5pm. Meetings. More of the same.

5pm. Leave work to pick up Bobbin. Non-negotiable. I have a hard stop at this time. For the most part this works and I no longer feel bad about declining meetings that people schedule for me after 5pm, or up and leaving a meeting at 5pm that is running late. Regardless of who is in the room, including VPs. And for the most part this is respected.

5pm - 5:30pm. Drive to daycare. Traffic sucks so it takes longer to get there than it does to go from daycare to work in the morning. Leaving a bit later makes this worse. I tried it to see if I could sneak in an extra 10 minutes at work. I ended up picking up Bobbin at 5:45. My hardcore rule is that Bobbin gets picked up no later than 5:30pm period.

5:30 - 5:45pm. Round Bobbin up at daycare, have her say her goodbyes, collect her blanket, daily report, and any artwork she created, and get her into the car.

5:45pm - 6:10pm. Drive home. Take advantage of the time by asking about her day, singing songs, making up silly rhymes, and listening to her chat about who had potty accidents, who got in trouble for throwing rocks, who she played with, etc. I love this time of day.

6:10pm - 6:30pm. Get home, get her unloaded, get her settled with a snack. If Tim's home he's started dinner. Sometimes I'm a bit later because we stop at the store to pick up something for him to cook. Set the table, unload the dishwasher, chat with Bobbin and Tim about their days.

6:30pm - 6:45pm. Eat dinner with Tim and Bobbin.

6:45pm - 7pm. Clean up from dinner - wipe table, counters, load and start dishwasher. Bobbin usually likes to help here, which is sweet but also tends to require a little extra cleanup afterwards. But I encourage her to help - maybe it'll stick :-)

7pm - 7:30pm. Quality time with Bobbin and Tim. Reading, singing, playing, etc. If it's a bath night, I'll start the bath running, get towels etc, ready and pop her in the tub by 7:15.

7:30pm - 7:45pm. Start the bedtime routine: Have bobbin go potty, help her brush teeth, get her room ready (pull shades; start music, straighten bed); get her changed into her jammies.

7:45pm - 8pm. Night time bottle in the big chair with Bobbin, watching the Shushy-byes and then Harry Bunny sing Twinkle Twinkle. I have to tell you I am actually NOT looking forward to Bobbin no longer having a bedtime bottle. It's our cuddle time. I love it.

8pm - 8:30pm. Mommy time. Sometimes I work out. Sometimes I lie on the bed with my eyes closed and listen to music. Sometimes I take a hot bath. Sometimes I indulge in some tv in the bedroom. Sometimes I spend this 30 minutes going into Bobbin's room every 10 minutes while she complains of some sort of owie or other, or insists on trying to go potty again, or reassuring her that the sound that she heard was just me or Tim or Tommy and not a monster coming to get her. When this happens, it is not Mommy time anymore.

8:30pm - 10pm. Tim time. We watch TV, we talk, we relive some of the wackier phrases or antics of our sweet little daughter. We surf the internet, show each other pictures or videos we've taken, etc.

10pm. Tim usually heads to bed to watch the news. I will sometimes stay up to watch TV or download photos from my camera, or update my blog. I also usually check my work email for 30 minutes - 1 hour between 8:30 and 11pm to catch up on stuff that's happened since I left at 5pm. Because a lot of stuff does actually happen after 5pm. Moreso than I'd like to, but part of that is the geographic diversity. On rare occasions I too will head to bed at 10pm.

11pm. Lights out.

7am. start again.

Wednesdays are special days. I mentioned previously that I have employees in Europe and in Asia. I also have other groups I interact with in both regions as well. So Wednesdays are my "extended work days". I work from 7 or 8am (depending on whether or not I have a 7am meeting scheduled) so I can catch the Europe crowd before their day ends; and I work until 7pm so I can catch the Asia crowd when their day begins. These people usually have to sacrifice THEIR own personal time schedules in order to interact with folks in the US and so I figure this is my way of trying to at least acknowledge that and make it a little easier for them to catch me. some of the 8am and 6pm meetings are ones that I have scheduled - 1:1s or team meetings to try and get most of my team together. I will admit that the morning ones are the hardest ones to maintain on a recurring basis especially if I've had a rough night of it with Bobbin the evening before. And so one of the complaints that the folks at work have is that these meetings are not consistent enough. Fair complaint. I just don't know that I'll really be able to get much better at it.

Wednesdays as a result are also my highest stress, lowest tolerance, and highest mommy-guilt days. I don't drop off or pick up Bobbin on Wednesdays. Two parts of my daily routine that I do really enjoy. I spend less time with Bobbin on Wednesdays than on any other days and I already feel that Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays I'm not spending as much time with her as I should or want to, and I only put in 8 hours a day on those days at the office itself plus 30 minutes - 1 hour on work email total from home at either end of that when Bobbin is either sleeping or occupying herself of her own volition. I rarely will actually work out on Wednesdays (although to be honest, for the last month I've rarely worked out on any other day as well) because of the extended schedule, and given that it is my highest stress day it is the day I most need to work out for pure health and sanity reasons. So the fact that I don't usually means that stress is accumulating and spilling over into Thursdays.

Saturdays and Sundays is quality family time. Bobbin and I go to L'il Kicker's soccer and have a blast; then mcdonald's for lunch, then home for quiet time. During quiet time I'll either take a nap myself if it's been a rough week and I need to catch up on sleep, or I'll do some housecleaning and chores. Afternoon we'll usually head out to a nearby park or playground, or we'll stay home and play games and colour and read and play in our back yard, or have friends over for a play date, or do errand outings to get groceries, etc. Sunday mornings are free-time; we do what we want when we want to. usually go ride Bobbin's trike at the playground and feed the ducks and then home for lunch and quiet time and afternoon if it's night we'll spend it playing on the deck or out on the climber and I might get some weeding or flower watering or planting done while Tim mows the grass (if he's not working the weekend).

And then it's back to the grind.

Family is important to me. The fact that I spend so little time with them compared to the time I spend at work is a constant source of angst, guilt, and pain. Despite the fact that I actually have a pretty good balance of work & family life. I typically work 45 hour work weeks. Most people would think that is awesome. Most would be surprised that my career is progressing as much as it is given that I am not putting in 60-80 hour work weeks. I do worry that I am close to stalling that progression; at some point 45 hours will NOT be enough, regardless of how hard our HR and diversity groups work to convince managers and employees alike that it should be and that balance is important regardless of your level. At any rate, family is important. It is in fact #1. When I'm not working I'm home with Bobbin and Tim. I usually can work in a little me time to exercise or veg or read or bathe. I can't do all of those me-things though. I have to choose each day which I will actually do. That's been the difference pre-Bobbin and post-Bobbin. I feel guilty even acknowledging that there is a difference, because acknowledging it somehow implies that I am dissatisfied with the current situation or somehow missing or longing for the former. Which is not true; I would not turn back the clock. But it is different and that requires adjustment and in almost 3 years I still have not quite found that right balance of me-only time. And every once in a while if I've been out of balance with my me-only time for a while, I get weird and cranky and unpredictable, and on occasion will even have to end up taking a vacation day from work just to recoup and get back on balance. And then I feel guilty that I'm taking time off work even though it is TIME THEY ARE GIVING ME - a bonafide vacation day that I have the right to take when I want to, yet I somehow feel that by doing so, I am skimping on my work responsibilities.

The kicker today was sitting at work reviewing feedback I recently received, and while I was reviewing it and trying to be as empathetic and objective as I could, and trying to look at it as constructive and informative for me as a professional, all I could actually think was damn, I guess I just totally SUCK as a manager, how am I even still employed and responsible for this stuff if I'm falling short in all of these areas, and at the same time I'm also thinking damn, what the hell do you people WANT from me, don't you see what I AM doing for you and don't you appreciate it and don't you know you actually have a pretty darn good deal here? Can't you just be happy?

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The toilet ring of potty training

If a "silver lining" is the metaphor for an unexpected glimmer of hope from a seemingly otherwise gloomy situation, then the ugly grey ring around a toilet bowl that has seen more than its fair share of use between cleanings is the metaphorical equivalent of an unexpected negative from the otherwise positive benefits of a potty trained preschooler.

A lot of current parent literature tells us that using the phrase potty "training" is no longer socially acceptable because it invokes some sort of negative imagery of toddlers as lower life forms being conditioned into using a potty in the same way lab rats can be trained to push a lever to get a treat. It says instead that we should use the phrase potty "learning". It's somehow more accurate and less demeaning. Whatever. Saying "Bobbin is potty learned" sounds a bit weird. And I wouldn't know whether I should actually pronounce learned in this context as "learn-ed". Which just makes me giggle. So instead I'll say that Bobbin has learned ('learnD') to use the potty every time she needs to go. No more diapers except at night time and even that is "just in case" these days as she almost always wakes up dry.

This is a good thing, right?

Yes, it is. No argument from me here. No more diaper pails. No more diapers. No more space consumed by changing tables, changing pads, diapering accessories and supplies. No more accidents to mop up. No more soiled underpants coming home from daycare in plastic bags with the "evidence" still attached to them. Which brings up another question: Why do they send the poop home with the kid? Do they think we parents won't believe them if they simply write a note that says "Bobbin had a #2 accident today in the playground"? It's not like the poop is the diarrahea variety. It's solid chunks. Shake the pants over the toilet before popping them in the baggy and voila - poop fragments all gone. I promise I'll believe it happened if you tell me it did. But I digress.

Yes, the fact that Bobbin now puts all her #1 and #2 in the potty all the time is a very very good thing. She is proud. We are proud. Life is easier. Life is cheaper. Life is good.

But there is a grey toilet ring around all this goodness. It's not dark grey. Just a mild discoloration. And it is the fact that as a result of her mind being so attuned to her bodily functions, she is waking up at 2am and 5am, like clockwork, every night, because she has to pee. Despite the fact that she still wears the nighttime pullups "just in case", her body has gotten to the point where it recognizes the signs and wakes her up before it happens and she must use the toilet. And after her body wakes her up, she wakes me up.

"Mommmmmyyyyyyyy.... I have to pee mommmyyyyyyyy I feel my pee pee coming MOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYY! I have to pee mommyyyyy I have to pee my pee pee is COMING"

And so I get up and stagger into her bedroom and mumble praises that she woke up in time to use the potty and ddn't have an accident and how proud I am of her. I think I mumble these praises out loud. I hear them in my head. And I hold her hand and blearily escort her to the bathroom and help her onto the potty and sit on the floor in front of her and wait for her to finish.

I have to remain semi-conscious during and after her pee in order to be able to help her back to her bed and tuck her in. She on the other hand confidently collapses into my arms in a sound slumber immediately after she has completed her business. There she will be, slumped forward into my arms, eyes closed, mouth open, snoring, still sitting on her potty with her pullups around her ankles. I have to get her all put back together and tucked back into her bed and empty the potty in the toilet and wash my hands before I can go back to my bed. And invariably, as I said, within 3 hours I'm doing it all over again.

Yes - using the potty is a good good thing. Pleased as punch we've arrived at this stage of life! But I'll be even happier when her bladder is large enough that she can make it til morning without having to pee, OR she starts getting out of bed and going on her own without waking me up :-)

Yes, I want my cake and I want to eat it too. But not at 2am. Or 5. At the more civilized hour of 7, if possible. But I'll take 6:30 if I have to.

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I need a raise

I came across this little gem today:

Mom's Salary Wizard

According to this, as a Working Mom in the Pacific Northwest someone oughtta be paying me about $40K for my mom duties - this is above and beyond the salary my actual employer pays me for the 50 hrs a week I spend at my "day-job".

I have the invoice. Just need to know where to send it to claim what's mine - about $100K plus change at this point. Hello? Anyone out there writing checks for mom duty?

I know, I know... the joy of raising a child are reward enough. And really, who can put a price tag on what my role as mommy is really worth?

18 years of books, toys, clothing, food, transportation, shelter, education/childcare: $425K. (Don't take my word for it - there's a calculator for that too).

Raising a healthy, confident, independent, morally, fiscally, and socially responsible child: Priceless.

Of course, someone forgot to tell Bobbin that "she is reward enough" when she had a massive screaming temper tantrum over her "nite-nite" music at bedtime this evening (and then an even more massive one when we turned the nite-nite music off).

Joy.

Happy. Happy.

Joy. joy.

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My Perfect Mother's Day!

My dream mother's day has me being able to sleep until at least 8am. And today, that was me - sleeping soundly in my kingsize bed to the sounds of silence until a bit past 8. Bonus: At 2:00am when she woke up needing to go potty, she called out for "Daddy" instead of "Mommy". The week of conditioning had worked :-) I have vague memories of Tim waking up, and no screaming ensuing so I assume the potty trip was successful. I was only slightly concious at 6:45am when the calls of "Good Morning!" rang through the baby monitor. I quickly resumed my slumber after Tim woke up, turned off the monitor, and went in to great the day with our little bright eyed bushy tailed munchkin. I slept blissfully until just after 8 when I was awakened by the sounds of someone desperately, but quietly, trying to open the door by herself. I remember her calling for help and then the next thing I knew, I was being gently (really!) awakened by my sweet little angel, smile on her face and two envelopes and a picture in her hand. A beautiful picture she had coloured herself, and two cards that she had helped decorate. (One had wax paper cleverly inserted inside to allow for the glitter glue to dry without sticking the pages together. Score a major arts and crafts point for Dad on that one!).

My perfect mother's day involves waking to aromas and sounds of bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove. And that's just what happened this morning. Bonus: Pancakes and warm maple syrup in addition to "spangled" (Bobbin's word for Scrambled) eggs and bacon. There was even cold orange juice to accompany the feast. AND... no dishes for me to clean up :-)

My perfect mother's day includes a nap at some point and I ended getting a nap shortly after breakfast when Bobbin decided to play "quiet time". See previous blog post. How cool is that?! I was thrilled :-)

My perfect mother's day has everyone using their polite voices and not having to remind about manners or admonish for tone of voice. And my mother's day was just that. Even while we were deep into glitter glue, scissors, scrap paper, and crayons during our rainy-day morning arts-and-crafts. It was absolutely amazing. And relaxing. And sooooo enjoyable. Thank you :-) Bonus: Bobbin even offered on her own to help clean up after we had finished our projects. Got out her little broom and everything. I went crazy and vacuumed, despite Tim's admonishment with questions of "What are you doing? Hello?" as he attempted to stare me down over the patch of carpet he was standing on that I desperately wanted to clean. It was totally sweet :-)

I was so rested from my playtime nap that when she went down for her real "quiet time" I found myself having ample energy and time to surf the internet, organize and upload photos, and just do stuff I generally don't have time for.

My perfect mother's day includes my favourite food for dinner. Tonight it was lasagna - my all time favourite. I actually felt so relaxed and full of time that I felt like cooking it myself! Bobbin and Tim helped - Bobbin was in charge of the ricotta and mozzerella. Tim got it all on video so expect some uploads soon. It was fabulous. I had two pieces and ate the mozzerella coated top off of a 3rd. Hey... it's Mother's day.

My perfect mother's day ends with me working out on my elliptical, burning 1000 calories. I'm way too lit from the 3 glasses of the fabulous red wine that we had with dinner to work out. It could be hazardous. Of course, I still sit here typing. Also potentially hazardous. However it is the lesser of the two evils. And as I said before, Hey... it's Mother's day.

Thank you Tim and Bobbin for the Mother's Day of my dreams. I love you both with all my heart :-)

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Best. Game. EVER!

I just spent the last hour playing "quiet time" with Bobbin. This was entirely her doing. She decided she wanted to turn the living room into a preschool, and got out floppy bunny, and peter rabbit, and giraffe, and laid them all down for quiet time. They each had a blanket, which was actually a cloth napkin from my linen drawer (Bobbin has decided my linen drawer full of napkins is actually the classroom's "extra blanket" cubby. All of my linen napkins are now strewn about the house, covering some stuffed animal or another. Floor, tables, chairs, sofas, etc. It looks a bit like a morgue for really tiny people around here).

Once she had tucked in all her toys, she spread a blanket out for me (a human-child sized one) and told me that I needed to have quiet time too. I laid down on the blanket on the sofa and she told me to close my eyes, and she proceeded to tuck me in. If I opened my eyes, she'd stroke my forehead and whisper "Shhhhh... mommy... it's quiet time. Close your eyes ok? I'll read you a book after quiet time but not if you don't go to sleep, ok?" As I laid there with my eyes closed, I could hear her moving around the room checking and retucking-in each of her other "kids", and saying in hushed tones "ok now, go to sleep, ok? It's quiet time now". Then she proceeded to pile a bunch of extra stuffed animals in around my legs and head and elbows for me to cuddle with while I lay there.

At one point she disappeared and was gone so long i was starting to wonder what she had gotten into. I got up and tiptoed down the hall to her room and peeked in. She was quietly playing with her toys on her bedroom floor, but she glanced up and saw me and quietly ordered me back to bed. I complied.

And so, that is how I got almost an entire hour nap this morning, after being allowed to sleep in until 8am to begin with. And now Bobbin herself is having a real quiet time so here I sit, wondering what to do with myself, being all rested and everything.

"Quiet Time". Best game ever.

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Differences

I have been contemplating the impact that the difference in technology and information access in 1973 when I was two, and today when Bobbin is 2, has had on Bobbin's view of the world. Just little things, mind you - not deep philosophical pondering. But it's the little things that are interesting to think about. Like...

Bobbin is convinced that all content that she views on the television is on-demand and completely controllable by a wireless remote control. she cannot grasp the concept that some of the shows she's watching real-time on the actual TV channel, are one-time events that are viewable only at that point in time, only in the order presented and are not repeatable, fast-forwardable, re-windable, or chapter-selectable. One of her favourite TV shows in the morning while we're getting ready for school is "Curious George". We do not have any "Curious George" shows on DVD or recorded to hard disk so her only option for watching it is to tune in at the right time on the right channel. And sometimes she doesn't, and gets disappointed. And it's near impossible to explain to a two-year-old why some stuff on the TV can be seen anytime and other stuff can only be seen at certain times. We've also stopped allowing her to choose the scene she wants to watch in movies - we've instituted the "beginning to end" rule for all recorded or DVD media. If she stops watching before the end, then when she comes back to it we do let her decide whether she wants to watch from the beginning or pick up where she left off. But no more chapter-choosing at whim. It was just getting too out of hand and I wondered about what sorts of neuron connections, associations, and assumptions, were forming in her brain with this ability to seemingly be able to "cut to the chase" or at least the content of interest with everything. I didn't want it to start translating into other aspects of life :-)

By contrast, of course, at the same age Bobbin is now, I was watching a black-and-white television that required you to get up and turn the dials, and the concept of a VCR let alone a DVD player or "TiVo" was still science fiction for most. And we got, maybe, a handful of channels. I didn't know and didn't care, as long as I could watch Polka Dot Door, and the Friendly Giant. And if I didn't happen to tune in, I couldn't ask my parents to call it up from the hard disk to watch it on demand. I had to wait until the next day and even then, it'd be a different episode. I had "missed out". Nor could I skip to my favourite parts (I hated Marigold, and loved Polkaroo. What a difference that functionality would have made. Not ;-)

Side note: Yeah, they had colour TVs back then, but we didn't actually own one until we moved back from Germany in 1979, and at that point I had already spent 3 whole consecutive formative years tv-less - and phone-less, I might add - in a foreign country.

Bobbin has a CD player in her room, and collection of music CDs that she loves to listen to - everything from Sound of Music to Sesame Street Sing-a-longs to Sharon, Lois and Bram, to the lullaby versions of Led Zepplin and Johnny Cash. She knows how to take out and put in the CDs by herself, knows how to start and stop them, and how to adjust the volume. And she does this on a regular basis, choosing the music that suits her mood.

At her age, I was listening to vinyl records, on my parent's record player in our living room at the farm. Sesame Street, Bambi, and countless Christmas Carol records. And of course, my parents' Neil Diamond and Nana Miskouri. Mom and Dad had to put them on because the record player was out of my reach - for good reason. Doesn't take much to damage that little arm or the needle inside it, not to mention the records themselves. Eventually, at the ripe old age of 4, I graduated to having my very own cassette tape player that I could use all by myself, and which I did use to listen to all my stories on tape. It was black and had a big silver switch that you pushed forward to play, and backwards to rewind. It looked like a little mini gear shift. I was always envious of the kids that I knew that had the cassette tape players with the big bulky buttons though because I preferred pushing buttons to moving the switch. I liked the big clicky sound the buttons made.

CDs and DVDs present an interesting challenge in and of themselves. There are some little silver discs that are usable only on the computer. Computer games like her favourite Sesame Street game. There are identical looking little silver discs that contain only audio content and no visual content. You can use them on the computer, or in the DVD player, or the CD player but you only ever hear stuff. You can't see stuff. Then there are the little silver discs that lets you see stuff and hear stuff. But they only work on the Computer or in the DVD player. If you put them into the CD player nothing happens. But damn if you can tell the difference between the three when you're only 2 and haven't learned how to read yet. And it gets downright nutty trying to explain it so she understands. I think she grasps the concept now - they all look the same, but do different things and don't all work in the same machines, and when she has additional context (like if they are in their case and/or are sitting near a particular type of "player") she can figure it out mostly. DVDs mostly come in rectangle cases and we keep them near the TV. Music CDs mostly come in square cases and they hang out near her CD player but also near the computer. Computer games come in both types of cases but you usually only find them on the shelf above our computer.

The computer is something she totally takes for granted at this point. It's just another part of her world - she doesn't give it any thought. It's like the fridge, stove, washer, dryer. You have one, and you play games or look at pictures or watch movies or listen to music, or type stuff and that's just what you do. She knows what we use it for; she asks to play games, look at pictures and movies of herself and Tim and I. She even recently dictated a letter to Aunt Sarah :-) The games are vivid, exciting (note, we're talking pre-schooler exciting. Big Bird, Elmo, and a bit of the Cat in the Hat thrown in for good measure), with full surround sound. My first computer was a commodore Vic 20. I copied lines of code from the manual into my TV screen via the huge klunky keyboard that also housed the actual "computer" to make it turn colours, and thought that was way exciting. The sounds that were emitted from the TV speakers sounded like SOS signals.

If Bobbin wants to see a picture or video of something... anything... from astronauts gliding through space, to the ancient pyramids of Egypt, to a live stream of newly born panda bears frolicking in the zoo to a volcano erupting in a cloud of black ash and rock (we'll stick with educational stuff, thank you) I just pull up my browser and away we go. She thinks it's fabulous. I'll ask her what she wants to see, she'll tell me "Giraffes" and voila - we're at the Woodland Park Zoo web site, or National Geographic, or any other number of places scrolling through countless pictures and videos of Giraffes. On demand. Instant knowledge. Instant gratification. You just gotta have your search safety settings on "high", avoid using image search, and weed out the crap. That's what Mommies are for. Later, Parental Controls will start getting involved as well. And the computer will be staying in the kitchen :-)

The telephone is another interesting piece of technology that has evolved over the years. When I wanted to pretend I was talking on a phone with just my hand as the prop, I would hold out my thumb and pinky finger... cause the receivers were those big bulky ones that curved slightly so your mouth was actually near the mouthpiece. Bobbin pretends she's talking on the phone by holding her hand up to her ear. Like you see people who are talking on cell phones doing. She pretends that the digital timer is a phone because it is the same compact size and has a digital readout and little buttons. She also doesn't think the fact that I take and view pictures on the same apparatus that I use to make phone calls is anything to write home about. It's a phone. It's a camera. It's a photo album. It's the thing mommy uses to read her the email that Aunt Sarah sent her. It's the thing mommy always has in her pocket :-)

The iPhone, which is the kind of phone I have, is likewise seeming to have its own impact on Bobbin's view of the world. She thinks nothing of the fact that when she gently traces her finger over the picture it scrolls to the next picture. Or that she can enlarge and shrink with a pinch of the fingers. It just makes sense to her. Everything should work that way in her view. Everything that looks like that, and can do those things. It's fascinating to watch her interact with it.

All the lights in our house are on dimmer switches, and I've noticed a tendency for Bobbin to use the same phrases as she does with volume to express how bright or dark she would like the room to be. "Turn the light louder, mommy". She likes her lights loud, especially in the bathroom.

Instead of your traditional photo albums, we have printed picture books of Bobbin - the kind you format online with digital photos you upload, and then order in hardbound printed format. The pictures have captions, and are sized and formatted in various ways, and she loves "reading" through these with me. Tim gave me a digital photo frame at Christmas and I loaded it up with pictures of us - the two of us, and then the three of us. Bobbin was mesmerized by it. we have your traditionally framed photos of Bobbin too, but even those were taken by digital cameras (her Santa picture was printed out on the spot and even came with a CD). I remember my first camera. It had a flash cube that turned automatically, and a film cartridge that you popped into the back. I remember taking the film to the drug store to get developed, and getting the pictures back a week later. No instant gratification there. In fact, I still have little tubes of film in various drawers around the house that have to be at least 8 years old, because I started using a digital camera exclusively around then.

Bobbin knows how to unlock and lock my car with a press of a button on my key fob remote. It makes the headlights blink too, and a cool little beep. She likes to do it while standing in the kitchen in front of the french door. She'll hold out her hand, aiming through the glass at the car, and press the button and giggle. She likes to make the car "wink" at her :-)

Banking and money-handling is another aspect of life that has fundamentally changed. Bobbin does have a bank account and we'll make rare visits to the local branch to dump the contents of her piggy bank into the coin sorter, and make a deposit. But even on those visits, we don't interact with the teller in person. I have eto walk up to the video teller, pick up the phone, and talk to someone on a television screen. When we need to exchange actual stuff like deposit slips and cash, I put it into a clear plastic tube, press a button that causes it to get sucked up a pipe into nowhere, and then a few minutes later it comes back down with different stuff in it. Way way different than the visits to the bank that I recall when I was a kid.

Most of our banking, however, is done online so we don't do a lot of actual branch visits. Our bill payments are done online, so rarely will Bobbin ever see us writing a check for something. And our purchases are all done with our debit card so cash rarely changes hands. I remember when ATMs started to make their first appearance, and thought it was cool that you could walk up to a machine, stick a card in, and get money out without having to interact with a person. Toronto Dominion Bank came out with the "green machine" as the nickname for their ATM. When I was old enough to get an ATM card for my savings account (I think you actually had to be 14 to be given an ATM card at our bank) I thought that was way cool and was so proud. I was very careful with it.

When we go grocery shopping together I try and make sure I have some coin or paper bills, even small ones, on hand so I can let Bobbin "pay" for part of the groceries. But sometimes all I scrounge up are some pennies and nickels because I didn't have time to withdraw cash and Bobbin will proudly deposit these on the counter at the grocery store. Luckily the cashiers at our local PCC are happy to humour us, so I'll have a $50 total and then she'll subtract the 17 cents that Bobbin gave her and let me pay for the rest via my debit card.

Right now our primary focus with Bobbin on "Money Management" is saving - putting stuff in her piggy bank and making deposits into her savings account. On occasion I'll give her a little bit of money while we're in a store and ask her if she wants to buy something with it or save it so she can buy something more expensive later when she's saved enough. So despite the fact that almost all of our transactions take place electronically now and a little plastic card seems to magically pay for everything at whim, we are trying to teach her the value of money and making smart decisions, and that money is something you earn, not something you just have in endless supply. eventually when she's capable of grasping the concept, she'll be allowed to check her account balance online with our help but we're a ways out from that. It's definitely different though, because that little plastic debit card does seem so magical (not as magical as a credit card will seem when she understands the difference, but still). So for now we'll stick to cash-on-hand and counting out the stuff in her piggy bank.

Yeah... times, they are a-changin'. I can't wait to see what Bobbin's own blog entry will look like as she contemplates the differences between her childhood and her child's childhood. What will be the "blog" of the future? Maybe she'll just be projecting little 3-D holograms of her memories into a special nook of cyber space, accessible only by wearing the full-body sensation suit and viewing helmet. She'll be able to recall and project smells and tastes of her youth to her cyber-audience - comparing the aroma and palette of her favourite food - those oven-warmed frozen meatballs that were actually still made with meat from real animals - to that of the test-tube grown version of the same in the future. "I remember when they slaughtered animals for meat and the steak-on-a-stick that I used to love so much came from an actual cow" will be the thought that drifts alongside the images, smells, and tastes. Mmmm.

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Harnessing the power and adreneline of emotion

Ever wonder what anger and moral outrage is worth? An hours worth is approximately 80 calories, I've discovered.

I did my usual 60 minute workout this evening on the elliptical. I've been averaging about 580 calories per 1 hour workout. Normally I watch The Daily Show followed by The Colbert Report. It's an easy hour filled with laughs and a pleasant way to work up a sweat and burn 580 calories without really noticing it too much.

Today, however, is Saturday. And neither show airs on the weekend. So I found myself surfing through the channel guide and landing on The Lifetime channel, watching a teen angst movie called "Odd Girl Out". Yeah, it's about exactly what you think it is about. Mean girls singling out the quirky and smart girl (on tv they're always cute too; totally unfair); completely ostracizing her by posting crap on the internet, luring her to fake events and then video taping her disappointed face, and eventually driving her to attempt suicide by sleeping pill overdose. It's a Lifetime movie, so it has a... uh... "happy" ending, in that the odd girl out recovers and regains the mental strength to go back to school to graduate from 8th grade with her class despite the continued mental and emotional bullying, and at the end in a crowd full of her peers, she finally confronts the main instigator and equates her to a flesh eating disease, ending the movie with the line " You have nothing I want", and walking away triumphantly with the one friend that stuck by her through everything (well, the last 15 minutes of the movie anyway; she never made an appearance in the first 45 minutes I watched. Weird. well. not really).

I ran the gambit of emotions - recalling my own pre-teen angst in grades 6-8 in particular and the constant insecurity I still maintained through high school and even university to some extent. I thought of Bobbin, today only 2 1/2 years old but someday having to run the marathon obstacle course that is middle and high school and hoping like hell she has a better time of it than I did, and is a better and strong person than I was, and that she is spared the pain and self doubt that I suffered through it all. And I was angry. Angry at the characters in the movie, even though I recognized the movie for what it was, and at the people in my real life back in middle and high school that I could cast in those same roles. And disgust and moral outrage that this crap continues in perpetuity. Lessons are never learned. Things never change. And worry because now there' s the internet, mobile text messaging, multi-party conference calling, instant video and photo uploads and mobile blogging (many technologies I am helping to sustain in the daily work I am paid to do), online "social networks", a PC on every desk and a mobile phone in every pocket, and a myriad of other "advances" that can do so much greater damage than the note passing and wall graffiti and prank calls of my youth. And how are you supposed to combat that?

And before I knew it my workout was over, and I had burned a total of 630 calories. And I was still raring to go. Luckily, the movie had another 5 minutes left so I moved over to the stationary bike and burned another 30 watching the grand finale.

It's apparently Teen Drama Weekend on the Lifetime channel. An opportunity exists for me to burn another 80 extra calories tomorrow. Of course, there's the question of whether it is mentally healthy to expose one's self to this much teen angst even if you are burning off the extra energy as you do so.

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Books on CD during the morning commute

On a whim about a week ago, I bought a copy of a "Nemo" book + CD for Bobbin, thinking it might be interesting change of pace to have her listen to a book on CD in the car instead of the usual music (lately she's been alternating between "The Nutcracker" ballet suite and "Sharon, Lois and Bram's Travellin' Tunes". She has a range of musical tastes ;-)). I was also curious as to whether she'd "get it" - ie, the concept of reading the book while it is being read to her on CD.

I learned to read by following along to recordings of books on cassette tapes. I remember I had a bunch of book+tapes that my parents had bought me. My favourite, though, was Cinderella. And it was the summer before 1st grade, our first summer in Germany, that I recall vividly sitting on the floor of my bedroom in our 2nd floor apartment, cassette tape recorder on the floor next to me, book in lap, finger underlining each word as it was spoken, that I learned to read "and they lived happily ever after. The end". The cassette ended but I sat there and, with my right index finger pointing beneath each word, I read it over and over and over and over and over again, and I was so proud. And it was more than just knowing where one word ended and the other began. I already knew my ABCs and I knew the sounds letters made. And just repeatedly having the story read to me with me following along, it all eventually sunk in and then clicked. What a feeling that was.

So I was curious as to how much Bobbin would be capable of grasping, and also admittedly want to be able to watch over the course of the next 2 years, if she liked the concept and stuck with it, of it clicking with her as well.

When I picked her up at daycare I showed her the Nemo book and the CD, and explained that I was going to put the CD in the CD player and it would tell the story and she could follow along in her book. And she would know when it was time to turn the page, because the CD would make a special sound.

I popped the CD in, and had her keep the book closed while she listened to the instructions. They narrator explained that when you hear the "brrrrriiiiiiing" sound of the chimes, that was a signal that it was time to turn the page. She seemed to get it. Then the first chime sounded, and she looked at me and said "Mommy, time to turn the page?". I smiled and nodded.

The book is a paperback and she still has a bit of trouble manipulating the thin paper pages one at a time; often times they get stuck and she'll turn more than one. But she got the gist of it pretty quickly and before long was saying to herself instead of asking "time to turn the page".

Nemo was a good choice because she loves that movie and has watched it several times, and it had scenes directly from the movie in the book illustrations, and much of the sound from the movie included in the narrative. And there were a couple of times when she missed turning the page at the right time, but realized that she must be on the wrong page because the story as she was hearing it wasn't matching up to the picture on the page, and she'd look up puzzled and ask "turn page now?" or exclaim "I missed a page!" The familiarity with the sounds and the images helped her figure out whether she was on track.

We're a long ways away from her tracing her fingers over the words and reading them for herself, but it was so much fun for her to be able to "read" independantly and know when to turn the page.

I think the next purchase will be Cinderella :-)

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More on James Marshall, and keep 'em if you got 'em

In my last blog entry I wrote about Bobbin's current favourite story: Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I briefly mentioned that the version that we have is the one retold and illustrated by James Marshall. Bobbin has gotten so much joy out of listening to the story and looking at the pictures, and I've derived so much joy from reading it with her (both from the standpoint of enjoying the story myself the way the author retells it, as well as enjoying having Bobbin cuddle close to me, and the interactive dialogue that ensues as she engages with the story and with me) that I decided to see if he had any other retellings of classic tales.

A brief search on Amazon while I was writing the last blog entry turned up several: Little Red Riding Hood, The Three Little Pigs, and Hansel and Gretel. He also did a version of Cinderella. And I learned he also had a whole series of characters that he had made up and written about - most notably George and Martha, two hippopotami.

So today I decided to take a little time and head down to the local bookstore to see what I could find. While I like the convenience of ordering online, I like the instant gratification I get from going to the bookstore.

Children's books has become a real hobby for me since I first learned I was pregnant with Bobbin 3 1/4 years ago (good grief! It's been that long?!). I've always been an avid reader myself and so it was a natural thing for me to start spending more and more time in the children's section of the bookstores looking for the books that I remembered fondly from my childhood, and seeing the new stuff that was out there. Finding all the new beautifully or cleverly illustrated books as well as beautifully or cleverly told stories as well as all the old favourites. For me, it's more than just the best sellers. "Knufflebunny" and "Where the Wild Things Are" and the Eric Carle books are good stories, but they are also on every bookshelf in every children's book-nook, in every bookstore's children's showcase display, and every daycare, doctor's office, dentist's waiting room, bank, coffee shop, and just about anywhere else that attempts to entertain children while their parents are busy doing something. I like to find the fun, interesting, zany and creative books that are hidden behind these ones. That's the thrill of the hunt, I guess :-)

Oddly enough, I don't recall any James Marshall books from my childhood. But the discovery of George and Martha in my James Marshall research sparked a distant memory. Perhaps from school or the library. They were written in the early 70's right when I would have been the right age for them, so it's entirely likely.

At any rate, I found only one of his several books in the bookstore after much searching and sifting through book shelves. This was the same bookstore in which I had found and purchased Goldilocks a few weeks ago. I remember noting at the time that it was strange they only had one copy.

In fact, interesting to note, my search for hardcover James Marshall books was eerily similar to my search for Berenstain Bear books earlier this year. In both cases, there were no hardcover versions to be found. In both cases, there was only an odd paperback version of a single book to be found wedged in between all the other paperback picture books on the bottom shelf where they pile that stuff in no apparent order. And in both cases the reason given was that the hardcovers are probably out of print, and "I guess the books just aren't that popular anyway". Who the hell is running these bookstores, and can they even read?

I even went to The Other Bookstore, and didn't even find any soft cover versions of his books. They had absolutely nothing.

At any rate, I bought the one paperback copy of James Marshall's Three Little Pigs, and then came home and ordered online what I swear is the last remaining hardcover version of his Little Red Riding Hood, along with a softcover Hansel and Gretel. They should arrive next week just in time for Bobbin's ear tube & adenoid surgery which will be a nice treat for us afterwards.

Having such a difficult time finding any of his books made me want to know a little bit more about him. Hence the link to his wikipedia entry at the beginning of this post.

It's a brief article, but the sentence that struck me the most was the last: "James Marshall had the uncanny ability to elicit wild delight from readers with relatively little text and simple drawings. With only two minute dots for eyes, his illustrated characters are able to express a wide range of emotion, and never ever fail to produce howls of laughter from children and adults." because that exactly describes my and Bobbin's experience reading his books.

Bobbin zeroed in right away on the bears' eyes. It's true - they are only tiny dots and lines, but there's no doubt as to what emotion they are displaying and Bobbin will point it out right away.

Bobbin: Why Mama bear is angry? Mommy: I don't think she's really angry. More annoyed, really. Bobbin: No, hers angry. Her have angry eyes. Look at her angry eyes. See?

It's so much fun to watch her notice that stuff completely on her own; for her to take in all the little details of an illustration and independantly arrive at an interpretation and conclusion about the characters' feelings and state of mind, and what it must all mean.

And now for some children's book advice: If you find yourself in the possession of, or with the opportunity to become in the possession of, a hardcover copy of either a James Marshall picture book OR a Jan & Stan Berenstain book, hold on tight. Cause they're rare finds. AND they're great stories that your kids will love. Valuable on multiple fronts ;-). And if you can't get a hardcover, go ahead and buy the paperback edition. They may not last as long but you and your kid will still derive invaluable pleasure, and for much less than the price of a hardcover (even if they weren't rare).

Blog update: While at the bookstore, in addition to purchasing The Three Little Pigs, I also purchased a hardcover called "The Adventures of Isabel: A Verse" written by Ogden Nash. I had picked it up and read it, and the poem was fun and silly and childish and perfect, and the illustrations for it matched perfectly. I didn't realize until I got home, started doing my James Marshall wikipedia search, and discovered this title amongst the long list of books that he had either authored, illustrated, or both, that this book was in fact illustrated by James Marshall as well. I found it in a completely different area of the children's book section and hadn't even looked at the illustrator name. Interesting that I seem so consistently drawn (pun intended ;-)) to his work. That tells me a lot!

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Gogeeochs and the Bear's Corridge.

Bobbin's favourite story right now is Goldilocks and the Three Bears (we got her the version retold and illustrated by James Marshall. I highly recommend that one; the dialog is pretty fun, as are the pictures).

Only in the World According to Bobbin, the girl's name is Go-Gee-awk (hard "G" sound both times) and should you pronounce it any other way, she will correct you.

It's a fairly short story but it takes a good half hour or longer for us to get through the entire book. Because I can't just read it straight through. Many questions must be asked and answered on each page. Our reading usually goes something like this (and generally takes place in the bathroom, while Bobbin is trying to do #2)

Page 1:

Mommy: "Once there was a little girl called Goldilocks"
Bobbin: No, it's Go-Gee-awk, not Goldilocks. Go-Gee-awk. Read it again.
Mommy: "Once there was a little girl called Go-Gee-awk. 'What a sweet child,' said someone new in town. 'That's what you think,' said a neighbour"
Bobbin: Where's the neighbour?
Mommy: Right there. The woman standing behind the fence. That's Goldilock's neighbour.
Bobbin: Go-Gee-awk. Not Goldilocks, Mommy.
Mommy: Go-Gee-awk.
Bobbin: Why hers a neighbour?
Mommy: She's a neighbour because she lives next door to Goldi... Go-Gee-awk.
Bobbin: Where's next door?
Mommy: Beside Goldilock's house. Right beside it.
Bobbin: But where in the book?
Mommy: Oh, they didn't draw it in the book. you can't see it in this picture.
Bobbin: Why I can't see it?
Mommy: Because the artist wants you to look at Goldilocks in this picture.
Bobbin: Why?
Mommy: Because the book is about her.
Bobbin: No it is not about her. It is about three bears.
Mommy: True. It is about the bears too. But the point is, it's not really about the neighbour so the focus is not on the neighbour. May I turn the page?
Bobbin: Yes.

Page 2

Mommy: "One morning Goldilock's mother sent her to buy muffins in the next village."
Bobbin: Why her send Go-gee-awk to buy muffins?
Mommy: Well, because they were all out of muffins?
Bobbin: Why they all out of muffins?
Mommy: Well, probably because they had eaten all the muffins yesterday and needed some more.
Bobbin: Why they needed some more?
Mommy: Well, because they were hungry and wanted muffins for breakfast.
Bobbin: Why they not have waffles instead?
Mommy: Maybe Goldilocks doesn't like waffles. Why do you think they don't have waffles instead?
Bobbin: Maybe Goldilocks mommy is all out of waffles too. Maybe her mommy forgot to go to the grocery store.
Mommy: That could be. (mental note to self: stop at the grocery store after work and get the damn pancakes that we've been out of for 3 days).
Mommy: "'You must promise not to take the shortcut through the forest," she said. 'I've heard that bears live there."
Bobbin: Why her not want Go-gee-awk to go through the forest?
Mommy: Because the forest can be dangerous.
Bobbin: Why the forest can be dangerous?
Mommy: Well, because it's dark and wild animals live in there.
Bobbin: Bears live in the forest!
Mommy: That's right. And did Goldilocks listen to her Mommy?
Bobbin: NO!
Mommy: And is that ok?
Bobbin: No! It's NOT ok!
Mommy: And why is that not ok?
Bobbin: Because Go-gee-awk might fall down and bump her head and get a BIG owie and the bears might come and they might scare her and Go-gee-awk would RUN AWAY and she would be scared and she would have a BIG owie so she would need to go to the doctor and she would be sad and she would be crying and her mommy might be worried.
Mommy: Yup, pretty much. You're a smart girl, Bobbin.

Page 3

Mommy: "Meanwhile in a clearing deeper inside the forest, in a charming house all their own, a family of brown bears was sitting down to breakfast."
Bobbin: Why they sitting down to breakfast?
Mommy: Well, they just woke up and they are hungry and want to eat breakfast. Are you hungry in the morning when you wake up?
Bobbin: Yes!
Mommy: And you want breakfast too, right?
Bobbin: Yes! Bobbin is hungry. Bobbin wants a BIG pancake!
Bobbin: Why there is a chicken on their roof?
Mommy: I'm not sure; he looks like he's up there napping in the sunshine. Maybe it's nice and warm up there. It's near the chimney too.
Bobbin: The chicken needs to be careful he doesn't fall down and bump his head and get a BIG owie. He needs to be careful up there.
Mommy: Very true.

Page 4

Mommy: "'Patooie!' cried big old Papa Bear. 'This porridge is scalding! I've burned my tongue!' 'I'm dying!' cried Baby bear. 'Now really,' said Mama Bear, who was of medium size. 'That's quite enough.'
Bobbin: No, it's not porridge. It's corridge. CORridge.
Mommy: CORridge. Hmm... I always thought it was PORridge. Hey look. What's that letter?
Bobbin: P! for Potty!
Mommy: That's right! And what sound does the letter P make?
Bobbin: you know?
Mommy: it makes a "Puh" sound. "Puh Puh Puh". Like "Potty". or "Porridge"
Bobbin:Porridge. Yeah.
Bobbin: Why Mama bear is angry?
Mommy: I don't think she's really angry. More annoyed, really.
Bobbin: No, hers angry. Her have angry eyes. Look at her angry eyes. See?
Mommy: You're right. I guess her eyes do look angry. I think she is just a bit angry that Papa Bear and Baby Bear are being overly dramatic. Making it seem worse than it really is. Overreacting. You know, like how Mommy tells you when you're panicking or you need to calm down when you get upset about little things, like when your sock won't come off or you want a different coloured napkin?
Bobbin: Why Mama bear says "That's quite enough"
Mommy: Because she wants Papa and Baby to calm down and stop panicking. She wants them to stop and take a deep breath, like I tell you to take a deep breath when you get upset. I tell you to calm down. Take a breath. Mama bear says "that's quite enough" it's the same as "calm down. Take a breath".

and so on. Although as I read through this again, this does present an opportunity for someone to tell the story completely from the neighbour's point of view. Or a general tale of what it was like living next door to the precocious Goldilocks from the day she came home from the hospital to the day she left home for college. The incident with the three bears was probably just one of many. I think I'll explore that angle more fully the next time I read this with Bobbin and she launches into her Page 1 questions.

The rest of the pages are equally inviting of questions and audience participation. I'll get her to finish the "too hot" "too cold" "Just right" and "too hard" "too soft" "just right" parts and tell me which porridge/chair/bed belongs to whom etc. She absolutely loves the book. And she picks up on the smallest details. Like when I get to the part about Goldilocks trying out Mama Bear's bed and deciding the head of the bed is "too low", Bobbin points to Baby Bear's bed and says "No! That's not to low, this bed is low. This is a low bed" and really, she's right; after all it is Baby Bear's bed. It's lower than the rest of them. Or when Goldilocks is in the parlour trying out the three chairs, in the illustration on that page there is a set of "photographs" hanging on the wall next to the fireplace of various bear "family" members and they all are grimacing. Bobbin will always point to them and ask "Why are they angry?" and we'll talk about how maybe the photographer said something to them that made them grumpy, or that maybe they didn't feel like getting their picture taken that day, or maybe they stepped in something yucky while they were getting their picture taken, etc.

The kid's inquisitive. And imaginative.

James Marshall has versions of the Three Pigs and Red Riding Hood too. I think I'll pick those up next time I'm at the bookstore. he has a way of updating the dialog so the story is more amusing than frightening, while still keeping to the original storyline and his pictures are super fun.

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No! And you can't make me!

I went and got my hair cut and coloured (I'm not ready to be grey just yet) on Monday. The colourist pulled up my file on her computer to see what to mix for me, and asked "Did you come here for your last colour and cut? It says here we last did your hair in August. Can that be right?"

Was it really that recent? It's felt more like decades. I grimaced and assured her that I had been seeing no one else. This was long overdue.

I emerged from the salon feeling like a new woman. I had an attractive hair cut, unfettered by my usual ponytail; my hair was clean and had body and bounce; and my energy wasn't being sapped by the multitudes of dreary grey strands that had started to proliferate throughout my scalp. I looked good. Relative to how I had looked when I entered two hours prior. But I'll take relative comparisons.

I enjoyed this feeling of freedom until precisely 2:02pm, which was the time that Tim and I left to go pick up Bobbin from daycare to take her to the season opener at Safeco Field. You see, I knew exactly what was going to happen the minute I appeared within her range of vision. She would glance up and notice me, start to smile, and then her expression would turn dour and she would launch herself into a tyrade of "Mommy! Put a pony in your hair! Put a pony in! Mommy need a pony! Pony! Pony Pony!" and then she'd start bawling and then she'd start pleading "Peas mommy, peas put a pony in now" and then she'd get sulky and angry at me. And then she'd reluctantly allow herself to exit the building to be seen in public with me - her horrid, unkempt, ponytail-less mother. Disgraceful. How could I do this to her?

Yeah. So it went down pretty much as I had anticipated, ending with a threat to not go to the baseball game if she didn't stop screaming at me and leave my hair alone.

As you can see, it's happened before. It doesn't happen often, but on the rare occasion when I've gotten my hair cut, or the less rare occasion (not much less, mind you) when I've just simply washed it and wanted to wear it down, or when I've had to go into her bedroom at night to comfort her after she's woken from a bad dream, she's seen me without a ponytail. And every time this has been her reaction. Over the course of two years, it's happened at least a few dozen times.

I try and keep it in perspective. I remember when my Dad shaved his moustache for the first time since my sister had been born. She went ballistic - sobbing and crying and carrying on like he had died and been replaced by this moustache-less imposter. It's the age; a moustached father was all she had ever known. Of course it was traumatic. And so I keep this in mind whenever Bobbin launches into one of her ponytail rants. It's not personal. It's not like she thinks I'm hideous without the pony tail. It's all she's really ever known.

However it's gotten so bad, that I keep a scrunchie in my nightstand drawer so that on the chance that she'll need me to go into her room during the night, I can put my hair back in a ponytail to avoid the tears and tyrades and tantrums; and so that when I wake up in the morning to go greet her, I can start off the day without a fight and struggle that escalates into some sort of loss of privilege for her and a gloomy dark cloud over my head until well after I've taken her to daycare. This is the power she has over me and my hair.

I've tried to reason with her; get her to see my perspective. "Bobbin, you know how mommy asks you if she can put a pony in your hair, and you say no you don't want one? Yeah? I don't make you wear one if you don't want one, do I? No. So you need to respect mommy when mommy says she doesn't want to wear one".

But then she reasons with me "Mommy, you need to put a pony in to keep the hair out of your eyes. Mommy, you need to. Listen to Bobbin's words, mommy. Your hair is in your eyes. You need to put a pony in".

I've tried to point out the inequity. "Bobbin, you're not wearing a pony. Why are you trying to make mommy wear a pony?".

She will ignore the apparent injustice and just continue to push her agenda.

I try to appeal to her sense of girliness. "Bobbin, don't you think Mommy's hair looks pretty? I got a new haircut! I'm so excited. I really like my new haircut. I want to wear my hair like this without a pony because it makes me happy".

She will respond with a "Mommy, your hair is pretty. And it looks pretty in a pony too. Here, Bobbin pretend to cut your hair and put sparkles in it and ribbons with a pony. You like that mommy? Yeah? Oh, what a nice pony".

She's smart. manipulative. And her tantrums are not pleasant.

But dammit it's my hair, and in the end, I get to decide how I want to wear it, tantrum or no tantrum. I will not allow my hairstyles to be ruled by my 2-year-old. My Dad didn't grow his moustache back for my sister. She learned to live with it. Bobbin's just going to have to deal. and it will be unpleasant for at least a week, but it will be worth it. Because by the end of it, my hair will have won its freedom, and I will have maintained my authority. I will not cave.

Unless it is 2am and she's just woken from a nightmare and I want to calm her back down quickly so I can go back to some much needed sleep so I can build strength and stamina for the morning when the battle over my hairstyle will begin anew. But that's it, dammit.

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Sinking in

We're mid-way through the "terrible twos" and there are some positives: For the last 6 months or so, she uses her words consistently instead of her hands when she's angry with Mommy and Daddy. That's a good thing. Over the course of the last couple of months she's really reduced her use of the "whiney voice". That's a nice relief. Yeah. She's also really good about her please's and thank you's. Doesn't need to be reminded nearly as much. And she doesn't bang her fork on the table nearly as much. Thank you.

For all these changes it just took a lot of consistency on our part, and a lot of repetition. Monotonous repetition. And did I mention consistency? And patience. And repetition. Consistent repetition and patience. You get the point. Say it. Mean it. Do it. And follow through on consequences. And don't lose your own cool throughout the repetitive monotonous consistent repetition. HAH! Yeah, good advice, but not always what stays foremost in mind when you've got a 2 1/2 year old shrieking "No! I don't WANT to!" at you at the top of her lungs over and over again while lying on her back on the floor kicking her feet against the wall. Of COURSE you're going to yell back on occasion. And boy don't you feel totally dumb and sucked in when you do. Which just makes you more annoyed. Timeouts really are for parents as much as they are for children.

Eventually though, it has all paid off. She gets that whining is not the way you get what you want. And hitting is not ok (although Tim and I were the only targets she ever inflicted this upon; according to all the books it is because she trusts and loves us the most. Ok. Don't I feel special now! :-). And she gets that she needs to take care of our stuff and not ruin them by banging on them with sharp forks. And being polite is.. well... the polite thing to do. She still whines. And she still needs reminders on manners. But it's minor stuff now and not center stage the way it was in the beginning.

Providing explanations have also helped. Cause it's not like we have a bazillion rules. We only have a relatively small number of real rules. All of which have to do with being safe, being healthy, being polite, being honest, being respectful (of people and property), being a good person, and not hurting anyone else (with words or actions). So all our rules have perfectly understandable reasons, and perfectly understandable consequences.

Yes you do have to brush your teeth before bed; no it cannot wait until tomorrow. If you don't clean your teeth you will get owies in your mouth and they'll hurt and you won't be able to eat your favourite foods like apples and popcorn because your mouth will be sore.

No, not two more minutes. It's bed time now. You need to go to bed because you need to get good sleep so that you stay healthy and strong and can play with your friends at school. And because mommy and daddy need to get good sleep so we can stay healthy and strong and play with you too. I know you say you're not tired. But your body is tired. It needs sleep. So lie quietly and let your body sleep. You can stay awake but your body needs to rest.

Yes you do have to wash your hands after potty. No it doesn't matter that your hands look clean. Germs are too small to see and if you don't wash your hands you will spread your germs and make yourself sick and other people sick.

Yes you do have to say thank you when someone shares with you. If you don't say thank you, it makes them think you don't care or appreciate it, and eventually they will not want to share with you or play with you, and that will make you sad.

Hitting is not ok. Hitting hurts people. It makes them sad. It's not ok to hurt someone.

Yes you do have to hold my hand in the parking lot. If you don't, you could get hit by a car and that would give you such a big owie you'd have to go to the hospital and you would be sad because you would be hurt for a long long long time and mommy and daddy would be sad and worried. You have to stay safe. If you cannot follow the rules for staying safe, then we will not be able to go out and do fun things together as a family.

Jumping on the couch is not ok because it is not safe - you could fall and get hurt, AND it will break the couch and then we won't have a nice couch to sit on anymore. No, we won't be able to buy a new couch because couches cost a lot of money and Mommy and Daddy worked hard to save up our money for this couch and we like it.

etc.

However we have also entered into a new level of "terrible". She's much more persistent than she was 18 months ago. And she's stronger. And louder. And her emotions are much more complex and far-ranging. And the logic of our rules is less interesting than getting her own way for the sake of getting her own way. However we have discovered that with her new capabilities comes new vulnerability. And one of these is that when the stakes are high enough, loss of privilege is actually painful. And meaningful. And real. And not something that she wants repeated.

The first real example of this we have is last weekend, at Starbucks. The "Easter Bunny" was going to be at our local PCC on Saturday morning, giving out treats, and hosting an egg hunt. Tim and I had a plan for the three of us to head out Saturday morning to Starbucks per our usual weekend routine, and then go next door to PCC to see the bunny and hunt for eggs, and then go to soccer. We told Bobbin our plan and she was terribly excited at the prospect of meeting THE Easter Bunny. In Person.

So Saturday morning rolled around and we headed out to Starbucks. And before we went into the shop we went over the expectations and rules: Listen to Mommy and Daddy. No screaming. No running away. Good behaviour or we will not see the Easter Bunny. She repeated the rules and nodded her head in understanding. We went in.

Up until the last 5 minutes, she was well behaved. Animated, happy, but also following all the rules. As we got up to go, Bobbin insisted on putting on her own coat. She's been working on this for a while. She can do it, but it takes some time, and she can rarely do it without getting frustrated. So we gave her her coat and encouraged her to put it on, and told her if she was getting upset she could ask for help. She snatched the coat and started putting it on.

She hit a few snags and we were able to talk her through them. But all of a sudden she just exploded; unable to get her other arm into the sleeve and not accepting of our offers for help she ripped off her coat and flung it 6 feet away onto the floor and started screeching and then threw her body on the floor. We tried to calm her down but she just started screaming at us. We gave her one warning to calm down and behave but she shouted no and kept carrying on.

So we had no choice. We picked her up. Carried her outside. Put her down. Put on her coat. And explained to her that we understood she was angry but that her behaviour was not acceptable and there would be no Easter Bunny.

I was not expecting quite the sudden reaction to that that we got. We've enforced consequences before; loss of privileges - turned off the TV; no movies. Early bedtime. No cupcake or cookie after dinner. No stickers for a day. But the stakes had never been this high. And to be honest I was actually surprised that she had ascribed so much value to the Easter Bunny visit; I had no idea.

So when we said "There will be no Easter Bunny. We're going home. Lets get in the car" She stopped in her tracks and then started crying. Sobbing. Bawling. Tugging on our arms. And then after we continued to hold firm, came the gasping sobs and pleading. And then the [gasp], [pant], [gulp], [half-sob] "I.. I... I... am behaving now. Ma..ma.. mommy [gasp] [ sob] Peas! Peas go see bunny now. Bobbin is behaving". And then the one that totally tugged at my heartstrings: "Peas mommy, peas, daddy, peas. Bobbin is a good girl. I'm a good girl. I'm a good girl. Peas bobbin see the easter bunny. Bobbin is a good girl", tear streaks fresh on her cheeks, eyes glistening, mouth quivering as she strives to maintain control.

That one got to me because she IS a good girl. She is. Her behaviour may not always be good all the time; who's is? but she is good. She is great. She is an incredibly awesome, sweet and loving, good person. And we have NEVER ever used the words "not a good girl" or "bad girl" in relation to her as a person; only in relation to her behaviour. We've been careful and explicit and intentional about that. It was all I could do not to break down into tears myself as I crouched down and explained "You are a good girl Bobbin, but your behaviour is not good. It is ok to feel angry. It is ok to feel frustrated. It is ok to be angry at mommy and daddy. But when you are angry, you need to use your words. You can't throw things. Or scream. Or kick, or throw your body on the floor. You need to use angry words. You need to say "I am ANGRY". Or you need to give yourself a timeout. Sit down or walk away and take a breath. But you can't throw and scream and kick and fall on the floor. That is not good behaviour".

I think she got the distinction. But even as we settled into the car she started crying again after we pulled away from the parking lot. "Bobbin is behaving now. Bobbin want to see the bunny. PEAS! Bobbin don't want to go home. Bobbin want to see the bunny. PEAS! Peas turn around and go see the bunny. Peas don't go home". Her voice had a desperate pitch that made me even sadder.

When we got home she was still sobbing. We went into the house and spent a lot of time talking about how she needs to think about what happens when she doesn't behave BEFORE she doesn't behave. That misbehaving and then saying I'm sorry will not reverse a consequence. She needs to learn how to not do the thing that got her in trouble in the first place. I didn't use those exact words. And the conversation was a 20 minute one and... repetitive :-) but I think she got it.

A couple of hours later, as we were absorbed in some art project or another, Bobbin looked up me and said, happily, "Mommy, Bobbin is behaving. Maybe later, You and Daddy and Bobbin can go to Apple Store and go see the Easter Bunny!". She said it with such enthusiasm and faith that it was going to happen, that it pained me to tell her that "Yes sweetheart, you are behaving very well, and I'm so proud of you. But the easter bunny isn't at the apple store anymore. He was only there this morning and now he's gone home. We'll have to wait until next year to see him again". "Maybe tomorrow?" was her optimistic answer. "No, honey. Not tomorrow. We missed him this year. That's what happens when we can't behave and listen to mommy and daddy. Next year we will try again". She looked sad, but she moved on. Thank goodness.

Since then, there's been a marked decline in meltdowns of this sort. Thank goodness because if we had put her through all that angst and, truth be told, myself through all that sadness and pain, I wanted it to have stuck and meant something. However we had a minor one today at PCC, which is where I took Bobbin to dinner this evening while Tim worked late.

We were getting ready to leave and she refused to wear her coat properly; insisting on wearing it like a "cape" with the hood on her head and the rest of it flowing out behind her. She was in short sleeves and it was 40F and raining outside, so in my mind this was not an acceptable option. I insisted she wear her coat. I offered to let her put it on herself, and I offered to put it on for her. In the end she threw her coat and herself on the floor and as I carried her out the door I said "That is not good behaviour. We are going home, and we are getting into our jammies, having our bottle and going straight to bed. No TV or movies". She protested vehemently but she let me put her coat on, and when we got home didn't even ask to watch TV, and didn't fight me on the jammies. as I was getting her out of the car she said "See, I'm listening to mommy" and I smiled and said thank you. Of course I didn't tell her that it was 7:00pm and time we would have started getting ready for bed anyway. But she went into the house, went potty, brushed her teeth, got her jammies on all without a fuss. And we didn't watch TV at all, keeping true to my promise, and I did remind her why that was so. We did, however, read 3 stories as she drank her bottle. We will never withhold books or reading as punishment. Books should always be available. And as I read to her while she cuddled in my lap, I praised her on her good behaviour and listening since we had been home. :-)

Comments

Barcelona, here I come

I am scheduled to leave the house tomorrow morning at 5:05am to head to the airport to go to Barcelona for 6 days for work.

I am not looking forward to it at all. The last time I left Bobbin for any amount of time overnight was exactly two years ago when she was 6 months old. As hard has it was to separate myself from her for 6 nights back then, it is 200x as hard as it is now.

I hope she does ok. If I know she is doing ok then I will do ok. If I know she is having a rough time, then I'm going to be feeling miserable.

Tim has promised to post a photo of them both every day each day while I'm gone so I can check in and see them. And we'll talk when she wakes up in the morning and when she goes to bed at night. Twice a day every day.

Still it was hard saying goodnight to her tonight knowing that it will be the last time I talk with her face to face for 6 days. Ugh.

I'll try and make the most of it. At the very least, I'll try and get some sleep and read a book when I'm not in meetings :-)

Mommy will be home soon Bobbin! I love you! And I'll be thinking about you every minute I'm gone! Have fun with Daddy (and go easy on him :-)).

Comments

random Bobbin happenings

Bobbin's been getting really good at letter recognition. Any book we read, or any sign we pass while driving or walking, she will immediately point out the letters she knows. "Mommy, look! That's an 'M' for you!". She also knows the "D", "R", and "T". I'm starting to work on vowels with her so that we can actually start forming words :-)

We recently got her a "Learning Tower" so she can get up to the counter and feel safe. We've tried getting her to stand on chairs or step stools to help but she doesn't feel secure. She took to this thing like a duck to water when we got home today and she saw it all set up. We call it her "Helping Tower". This evening she prepared the caprese salad (meaning she spooned it from the container into the bowl) while Tim cooked the pasta and meatballs. When she was done "making" her contribution to dinner, she insisted on carrying it to the table and then proceeded to set the rest of the table without any prodding. In fact, the TV stayed off until well after dinner!

She's also all about serving herself at dinner now. Tim and I are not allowed to serve her. Doesn't matter what we're having - she needs to be the one to take it from the serving bowl or platter and put it on her plate. It makes for some rather interesting food incidents on occasion but for the most part she's pretty neat. Every once in a while we have to remind her that the serving utensil is only for serving; not for actually consuming the food once on her own plate. Have you ever seen a two-year old try to eat a piece of chicken using a serving implement as a fork? Yeah.

Little Miss Independent also must be the one to squeeze the toothpaste onto her toothbrush, pump the soap onto her own hands, to pour her drink into her cup, change her CD in her CD player and press "play", put her own arms in her sleeves (although i'm still permitted to help with putting the shirt over her head), push her own shopping cart, and unload it at the cash register all by herself (if there's no one behind us I'll let her do the whole thing. If a line is forming, on the other hand, I will insist on "helping") and empty her own potty.

This independence also has an up side; she insists (for the most part) on cleaning up her own spills and messes. Even the icky potty ones. Thank goodness. Of course, it usually comes with a slightly hard-to-swallow pill on the side. "Mommy, walk away. Don't touch. Bobbin do it all by herself. Hands to yourself, Mommy. Hands to yourself. Ok? Are you listening? There. ALL Done. Put this in the garbage now Mommy. Mommy? Please. In the garbage now. You're not listening. You're not aspecting Bobbin. Good Girl! I'm so proud of you".

Uh... yeah.

She hasn't yet figured out though that being in the big girl bed has given her some new independence too. She's been in the bed for a month and a half now and not once has she ventured out of her bed, much less her room, after she's been tucked in. I think I'm ok with that. I occasionally wish for a gentle nudge on the arm instead of the loud and sudden "MOMMYYYYYYYY BOBBIN'S AWAKE! MOMMY COME HERE! COME HERE MOMMY!" that is often my wake up call. But I'm careful what I wish for because I know it isn't likely to be as gentle as I'd want when it does finally happen :-) Or maybe she has figured it out but would much prefer I come to her as opposed to her coming to me. That would be in character :-)

Bobbin's also started rhyming and "reciting" her own made up poems. She'll sit in the car seat on the way to school, and pound out

Bob-bin cat and
it's a hat
For sky no pie
Oh guy dah bye
One two twee
bee and bee

in a one-two rhythm. We'll also play the rhyme game where I say a word and she has to rhyme it. She hasn't quite mastered the on-the-spot rhyme so sometimes for lack of an actual word at the ready in the fore front of her head, she'll make one up that rhymes with the word I said. Or she'll pick the word and I have to rhyme it. And when I shout out a word that doesn't rhyme she'll call me "silly mommy" and tell me to do it again.

She's really taken to soccer too, now that we have been able to go a couple of weeks in a row. She loves her coach and mimics her at home. Her coach will start out each practice by having them sit around her in a semi circle on their soccer balls, and then she'll roll a ball to each kid and shout out "What's your name?" and usually the kid will sit there smiling and the parent will shout out the kid's name. And then the coach will shout out "And what'd ya have for breakfast?" and the kid will whisper something to the parent and the parent will shout back "Pancakes!" or whatever it was the kid ate. And then the kid (or more often the parent) will roll the ball back to her and she'll move on to the next kid. The coach is all of about 16 years old, but Bobbin calls her "Coach" as if it's her actual name, and she looks up to her as the authority for all things soccer. As she should. And during this little intro exercise when the ball comes to her she will loudly respond "Bobbin" and "Pancakes" after a only a short hesitation and shy smile, and roll the ball back. At home though, when Bobbin is pretending to be coach, she belts out the questions at the top of her voice:

"MOMMY! WHAT'S YOUR NAME?!"

Mommy!

"AND WHAT'DYA HAVE FOR BREAKFAST?!"

a bagel

"YUM! GOOD GIRL MOMMY! DADDY! WHAT'S YOUR NAME?!"

Her own latest favourite breakfast food, to say at least but not to eat, is Spangled Eggs. Aka scrambled eggs. I'm not entirely sure where Spangled comes from. In my mind it makes sense as a combination of scrambled and mangled but I'm pretty sure we haven't used the word "mangled" in front of her so the word is entirely of her own creation. But she's completely consistent with it. Spangled eggs. I'm not sure but I seem to recall that being what my sister called scrambled eggs as a kid. Sarah? Dad?

I leave for Barcelona in a couple of weeks. I'll be gone 6 days total; leave on a Saturday morning and back late on the following Thursday night. I'm dreading it. I'm going to MISS her terribly. All of these little things that we do every day. Our rhyme game. Our pretend play. Even her "reading" to me while I'm sitting on the toilet because Bobbin thinks it will "help your poopy come, Mommy. Yah! Bobbin read to you a story, ok? Then your poopy will come really fast". Ok maybe I might enjoy peeing and pooping in private without an audience or running commentary or play-by-play back to Tim. but I will miss the rest of it.

And what new thing is she going to start doing in the 6 days that I'm gone?! Nothing big I hope. I don't want to miss it. On the other hand, I do want her to be confident enough to try or start something new while I'm not here because that'll be a big developmental milestone for her. And me.

Comments

How not to achieve work/life balance

Flying solo with a 2 1/2 year old who misses her daddy and has an ear infection, a dog on antibiotics with a bladder condition, and a work schedule consisting of back-to-back meetings that start at 8am and end at 8pm is NOT conducive to a sense of personal/professional balance, a healthy self esteem, a tidy house, or a good night's sleep.

Tim's gone this week. Left tuesday. Back sunday. He's attending a training class, followed by a tradeshow. Wouldn't be so bad, except....

Except Bobbin's of that age now, where having both parents in close proximity at all times is necessary for her sense of security and well being. She's extremely fragile with him gone this long. On the plus side, she's at an age where she can articulate her feelings - she talks about how much she misses him all the time... "Bobbin's feeling sad about her daddy being gone"... "Bobbin misses her daddy".... "Bobbin worried about her Daddy". It's heart-wrenching. I try to comfort her by keeping a calendar where we mark off the days together until he comes home, and I talk about what we're going to do each day between now and the time he comes home. Bobbin associates certain days of the week with certain activities now. This morning on the way to school her chatter went something like "Mommy, what's tomowow? Mommy tomowow Fie-day? Fie-day we go to Zowah's house for dinner and see Ella. And Mommy Saturday Bobbin go to soccer. and after, McDonalds? Yah? And Mommy, on Sunday do you want to see a football game? Yah? And Sunday go to airport to get Daddy! Yay!". we call him every morning to wake him up and each evening to say goodnight. And sometimes in between we'll leave messages letting him know when Bobbin's done a pee pee or poopy in the potty all by herself! I've finally managed to convince her that we can't save them until he gets home :-). But she's still extremely anxious and stressed about the fact that he's not here, and I think she's been having bad dreams.

And except I started a new schedule and made some work commitments around that schedule starting this month which includes working extended wednesdays from 7am - 7pm so I can participate in conf calls and 1:1s with folks on my team and in peer teams in europe and Asia. I compensate by leaving at 2 or 3 on Fridays. But this wednesday totally sucked. Personally and professionally. Bobbin had slept only marginally well on Tuesday night, the first night that Tim was gone. Normally I would let her sleep a bit late to compensate, except this was now my first Extended Wednesday and I had an 8am conf call. So I gently roused her at 6:45pm and got her dressed and breakfasted and out the door in time for me to drop her off at daycare around 7:30am so I had a little extra time to spend with her there and get her settled before heading to the office for my 8am call. I had back to back meetings scheduled all day on Wednesday through to 8pm which didn't allow for any time to pick up Bobbin let alone get her fed, and spend some quality time with her. So I ended up having to cancel a 4pm meeting so I could go to daycare and pick her up early and bring her back to my office, so that I could participate in a 5pm - 6pm conf call at my office, then cancelled a 6pm-7pm conf call so that I could bring her home and get her fed and maybe read a book with her before conducting my 7pm-8pm conf call from home. 8pm is Bobbin's normal bedtime which, suffice to say, did not happen since my call didn't end until 8pm. Before I continue I do have to point out that Bobbin was an absolute angel the entire day - she behaved at school and didn't act out at all. She behaved at my office and gave me a whole 40 minutes of the hour without any fuss or complaint, content to draw on the whiteboard I had removed from my wall and propped on the floor, and snack on the banana and animal crackers I had bought at the cafeteria at lunch, and write on my legal pad with the coloured highlighter pens I had snagged from the supply room before going to pick her up, and play with the little vendor trinkets and nicknacks (including my glass award blocks but hell, it's about time someone found a practical and entertaining use for those dust collectors :-)) that I've accumulated over the years, and to bang on the keyboard of my defunct laptop which I had brought out for just that purpose. And at home while I was on my 7pm conf call, she gave me almost the entire hour, happily watching her movies, playing with her stuffed toys, and reading books to herself, before starting to demand some mommy-time of her own. When I hung up the phone at 8pm and told her Mommy was all done, she threw her hands up in the air and shouted "YAY!" and insisted on riding around the house on my shoulders. That was probably the highlight of my day, and certainly was for her.

And except Tommy was diagnosed Monday with a bladder infection, gum infection,a nd possible liver issues, is prone to potty accidents in the house, and is taking about 6 pills a day that have to be disguised in wet cat food in order for him to actually ingest them. And we're out of cat food and I didn't have any time to do any shopping and so brute force was required to get his last dose in him and that wasn't pleasant.

And except that Bobbin woke every hour from 10pm on complaining alternately of an owie in her ear, and being sad about Daddy, and then started running a fever at daycare half-way through my boss's management offsite. The only reason I found out about it was because I had an inkling last night that she was sporting an ear infection but took her in to school anyway because of this offsite, which really was offsite and I had no access to my work voicemail. But during one of the breaks, being concerned about the ear thing I called the daycare and asked how she was doing and the director responded with a "You didn't get my message then? Bobbin's running a 101.5 degree fever and she's been really sad and miserable all morning". I felt like the world's crappiest mother. Under any other circumstances I would have decided that morning to stay home from work, keep her home wiht me, and take her to the doctor on my suspicions from last night but I didn't do that this morning, and thus made her suffer through 3 hours of yuckiness at school - feverish, in pain, and angst-ridden about Tim being gone. I left the offsite immediately and picked her up and took her to the doctor where they confirmed the ear infection and sent us home with perscriptions for oral antibiotics and drops - both of which we were to administer daily. I actually was relieved though, because this would like me make up for the crappiness that was yesterday by focusing entirely on her for the rest of the day. I took the opportunity to also go grocery shopping so we'd have food to eat between now and sunday but in my haste I forgot the cat food so it'll be another brute force administration of meds for tommy tonight. What fun.

Tomorrow I'll play it by ear, and Bobbin comes first. If she's still sensitive either because of her ear or her Daddy being gone I'll keep her at home with me. It'll mean cancelling a bunch of meetings at work, but as my own boss has said on numerous occasions, at the end of the day all we're really doing is making 1s and 0s go across a wire. Family is more important than that.

Still... I'll feel like I'm letting someone down. But at least it won't be my own daughter. She's #1.

Comments

My 29- to 30-month old

Today is January 4th. Bobbin's 29 months old today. I stopped counting months after 24, but I subscribe to the babycenter.com monthly newsletter and they still go by months. There's usually a tidbit or two in them that are helpful in dealing with the latest toddler challenge :-) But this month was a bit lacking. Here's what it said:

Your 29- to 30-month-old

How your toddler's growing: Your toddler is probably able to put on a piece or two of clothing by herself and name a few body parts. She may also be able to identify a color or a friend by name. As she grows more aware of what others are thinking and feeling, she'll become more interested in interacting and playing with other children instead of just alongside them.

She's still working on the clothing - she can take her own socks and shoes off but hasn't mastered putting clothing on yet. But she pretty much has the body parts nailed. Head to shoulders, knees, and toes, hands, fingers, ears, eyes, nose, browse & lashes, elbows and knees, and absolutely everything in between. And I do mean everything. Next time we're together ask me about this. I have a few great stories. I'll refrain from posting them because god knows where this stuff ends up, and I'd hate for it to be dragged out at the wrong time - like when she's running for President (or Prime Minister ;-), or as she's returning from the first (wo)manned mission to Mars, or as she's accepting the Nobel peace prize. But they are funny, so do ask ;-)

Similarly, she knows all her colours now - the whole rainbow.

As for naming friends - she knows new classmates' names before I do (as it should be, really) as well as several teachers and kids outside her class... I think she's got that covered.

I've noticed that she's much more interested in playing with older kids at the playground than kids her own age. She'll play pretend with them, and follow them down slides and up steps, and ask their names.

How your life is changing: Conversations with your baby are a wonderful opportunity to help build her verbal skills. For instance, if she says "Car go," you might say, "Yes, that red car is going down the street very quickly." She won't be able to imitate your bigger words or complex sentences just yet, but she's learning from your example.

"Mommy, who bought that big pink bunny for Bobbin?", "Mommy, why does that car haf a noisy engine?", "Mommy, Beaver is feeling really sad, cause he bumped his head and Alex bit him on the leg, and so he's crying and he misses his mommy, and so, yeah", "Mommy, come scoot closer to Bobbin and lets read this book about airplanes. Come closer. Closer, mommy. Ok. You comfy? Yeah? Ok let's read this book. Oh, mommy, you missed a page. Here let Bobbin help you". "Hey Mommy, Bobbin wants to go outside to throw apples to the deer. Want to come too? It's wet and slippery outside so be careful. Bobbin doesn't want you to fall and bump your head. Here. Hold my hand. Go slowly, ok?"

'nuff said.

Parent Tip: Toilet Training Will Come in Time "If your child isn't toilet trained yet, don't get upset. My son wasn't ready until he was almost three, and then he really got into it. It might help to give him a book or video explaining the process — that was useful for us." — Lizzie

Every kid is different; I know several who were in diapers until age 4; others who were out of them by 1 1/2 (more of the former, few of the latter). Bobbin seems to be right on track with the average for girls; she's wearing underpants full time during the day now - even during naps. She only wears a pullup at night because she's not able to stay dry yet (the before-bed bottle has to go before that's likely to happen, and we're not rushing that). When at home, she does #1 and #2 pretty reliably without incident. At school she's got #1 nailed but so far doesn't seem that interested in doing #2... they are public restrooms, after all and #2 definitely requires more sitting time :-) At any rate - I feel lucky that she's doing so well. I know there's always the possibility of a relapse; all the books talk about it and prepare you for that possibility. We'll just keep doin' what we're doing and take it one day at a time. I'm so proud of her!

Now... what I really need some advice on:

1) How to teach her how not to interrupt
2) How to get her to eat something other than fruit, yogurt, mac & cheese, hotdogs, or meatballs at every meal
3) how to find the time to make something other than fruit, yogurt, mac & cheese, hotdogs, meatballs or some other food-in-a-bag at every meal'

Uh... oh wait... I think if you can solve #3 for me, that should take care of #2 as well :-)

Comments

The Potty Vacation

Inspired by hours in our bathroom, reading Berenstain Bear books to Bobbin. The numbers in small italics correspond to the page numbers from the actual book, The Bears' Vacation, from which this was adapted. Enjoy :-)

Hooray! Hooray!
We're on our way!
Our potty vacation
starts today!
[3]

And here we are.
What a wonderful trip!
Let's sit on the potty.
Let's let 'er rip!
[4]

[Papa Bear]
Small Bear! Small Bear!
Don't you forget
to wash your hands
after you've done your bit.
[7]

[Mama Bear]
Don't you worry.
Don't you fear.
I'll help her with
her potty career.
[9]

[Small Bear]
I'm watching, Mom!
I'm all set to go!
[10]

[Mama Bear]
Then here is the first rule
you should know.
Obey all body signs!
now, tell me
what are some body signs
that you see?
[11]

[Small Bear]
Yes! I've got one.
And I think you should know
It feels like a tingle.
I think I must go.
[12]

[Mama Bear]
Ah, yes, Small Bear.
You are right. So you must.
Sit down on your potty.
No need for a fuss.
[13]

[Small Bear]
Yes, Mama! It's here!
I think I am done.
[14]

I'll be safe when I pee now.
That lesson was fun.
[15]

[Mama Bear]
You will be safe
when doing number two
after I give you
some pointers on poo.

Sit first. Then push
with all your might.
Let's give it a go.
Let's not have a fight.
[16]

[Small Bear]
Yes, Mom, I will!
But this pushing is hard.
[18]

[Mama Bear]
Never mind that!
Just disregard.
[19]

[Small Bear]
You proved it, Mom!
It's easier when calm!
[20]

[Mama Bear]
Right, my girl.
That is very true.
It's a pleasure to teach
the potty to you.
[22]

[Small Bear]
Mom, I'll remember
the rules you gave.
Now let's go have fun.
I'm feeling brave.
[23]

[Mama Bear]
First, we go on
to rule number three.
Beware of all rocks
when surfing at sea.
[24]

[Small Bear]
But Mama? What's rocks
and surfing got
to do with peeing
in a pot?
[25]

[Mama Bear]
You're right, small bear.
I've lost my thought.
So much potty reading
has me distraught.
[26]

[Small Bear]
I think I understand
the potty now.
Thank you, Mom,
for showing me how!
[30]

[Mama Bear]
But I have much more
to tell you, my girl.
More potty rules
have I still to unfurl.
[31]

When people are done
doing their stuff
they must wash with soap.
Water alone's not enough.
[33]

Using the soap pump
is rule number four.
Just push it once
No need for more.
[34]

[Small Bear]
But Mom, what about
the soap bar instead?
May I use it?
It's just as good, I have read.
[36]

[Mama Bear]
Wait now! Don't touch
anything yet!
There's another rule
you have to get!
[37]

Here it is...
rule number five
Watch what you flush.
It may be alive!
[38]

[Small Bear]
Rule five is creepy
and not sure how it fits.
But I'll heed it to avoid
a battle of wits.
[40]

[Mama Bear]
Okeydokey, Small Bear
Hop up to the sink!
You must learn the rule
for safe washing I think!
[41]

When at the sink
you must take care.
And here is rule number six,
Small Bear.

Cold faucet only.
Don't touch the hot.
And try not to splash
so you don't have to blot.
[42]

See? Like this!
Only a fool
would fill up the sink
with hot water, not cool.
[44]

[Small Bear]
It's a very good rule.
I can see that, Mom.
Without it, things might
go very wrong.
[46]

I've been happy to learn
all you had to teach.
Can I go now?
I'd really like a peach.
[48]

[Mama Bear]
I have one rule more
before we go,
and then you'll know
all you need to know.
[49]

One more thing
you must do in this room
before the rest of
your life can resume.
[51]

In the bathroom
like lots of other places
there are many, many
dangerous spaces.

And my last rule
is simple and clear:
Always flush AFTER
removing your rear.
[53]

The toilet seat
is big and wide!
You do not want
to fall inside.
[54]

[Small Bear]
But, Mama, I'd rather
use my own
than sit on one as big
as a throne.
[55]

[Mama Bear]
Good choice. As I said,
like other spaces
the bathroom has
many dangerous places!
[56]

FLUSH!

[Small Bear]
Wow!
We learned that rule
very fast!
[58]

Tell me, Mom,
was that the last?
[60]

[Mama Bear]
Yes, that rule
was the very last one.
My safe potty rules
are done!
[61]

[Small Bear]
Pa!
You won't have to worry
anymore!
Ma taught me how
to poop safely and more!
[63]

In 4 weeks I expect to have a similar adaptation of War and Peace ready to post. Stay tuned ;-)

Comments

The Potty Vacation

Inspired by hours in our bathroom, reading Berenstain Bear books to Bobbin. The numbers in small italics correspond to the page numbers from the actual book, The Bears' Vacation, from which this was adapted. Enjoy :-)

Hooray! Hooray!
We're on our way!
Our potty vacation
starts today!
[3]

And here we are.
What a wonderful trip!
Let's sit on the potty.
Let's let 'er rip!
[4]

[Papa Bear]
Small Bear! Small Bear!
Don't you forget
to wash your hands
after you've done your bit.
[7]

[Mama Bear]
Don't you worry.
Don't you fear.
I'll help her with
her potty career.
[9]

[Small Bear]
I'm watching, Mom!
I'm all set to go!
[10]

[Mama Bear]
Then here is the first rule
you should know.
Obey all body signs!
now, tell me
what are some body signs
that you see?
[11]

[Small Bear]
Yes! I've got one.
And I think you should know
It feels like a tingle.
I think I must go.
[12]

[Mama Bear]
Ah, yes, Small Bear.
You are right. So you must.
Sit down on your potty.
No need for a fuss.
[13]

[Small Bear]
Yes, Mama! It's here!
I think I am done.
[14]

I'll be safe when I pee now.
That lesson was fun.
[15]

[Mama Bear]
You will be safe
when doing number two
after I give you
some pointers on poo.

Sit first. Then push
with all your might.
Let's give it a go.
Let's not have a fight.
[16]

[Small Bear]
Yes, Mom, I will!
But this pushing is hard.
[18]

[Mama Bear]
Never mind that!
Just disregard.
[19]

[Small Bear]
You proved it, Mom!
It's easier when calm!
[20]

[Mama Bear]
Right, my girl.
That is very true.
It's a pleasure to teach
the potty to you.
[22]

[Small Bear]
Mom, I'll remember
the rules you gave.
Now let's go have fun.
I'm feeling brave.
[23]

[Mama Bear]
First, we go on
to rule number three.
Beware of all rocks
when surfing at sea.
[24]

[Small Bear]
But Mama? What's rocks
and surfing got
to do with peeing
in a pot?
[25]

[Mama Bear]
You're right, small bear.
I've lost my thought.
So much potty reading
has me distraught.
[26]

[Small Bear]
I think I understand
the potty now.
Thank you, Mom,
for showing me how!
[30]

[Mama Bear]
But I have much more
to tell you, my girl.
More potty rules
have I still to unfurl.
[31]

When people are done
doing their stuff
they must wash with soap.
Water alone's not enough.
[33]

Using the soap pump
is rule number four.
Just push it once
No need for more.
[34]

[Small Bear]
But Mom, what about
the soap bar instead?
May I use it?
It's just as good, I have read.
[36]

[Mama Bear]
Wait now! Don't touch
anything yet!
There's another rule
you have to get!
[37]

Here it is...
rule number five
Watch what you flush.
It may be alive!
[38]

[Small Bear]
Rule five is creepy
and not sure how it fits.
But I'll heed it to avoid
a battle of wits.
[40]

[Mama Bear]
Okeydokey, Small Bear
Hop up to the sink!
You must learn the rule
for safe washing I think!
[41]

When at the sink
you must take care.
And here is rule number six,
Small Bear.

Cold faucet only.
Don't touch the hot.
And try not to splash
so you don't have to blot.
[42]

See? Like this!
Only a fool
would fill up the sink
with hot water, not cool.
[44]

[Small Bear]
It's a very good rule.
I can see that, Mom.
Without it, things might
go very wrong.
[46]

I've been happy to learn
all you had to teach.
Can I go now?
I'd really like a peach.
[48]

[Mama Bear]
I have one rule more
before we go,
and then you'll know
all you need to know.
[49]

One more thing
you must do in this room
before the rest of
your life can resume.
[51]

In the bathroom
like lots of other places
there are many, many
dangerous spaces.

And my last rule
is simple and clear:
Always flush AFTER
removing your rear.
[53]

The toilet seat
is big and wide!
You do not want
to fall inside.
[54]

[Small Bear]
But, Mama, I'd rather
use my own
than sit on one as big
as a throne.
[55]

[Mama Bear]
Good choice. As I said,
like other spaces
the bathroom has
many dangerous places!
[56]

FLUSH!

[Small Bear]
Wow!
We learned that rule
very fast!
[58]

Tell me, Mom,
was that the last?
[60]

[Mama Bear]
Yes, that rule
was the very last one.
My safe potty rules
are done!
[61]

[Small Bear]
Pa!
You won't have to worry
anymore!
Ma taught me how
to poop safely and more!
[63]

In 4 weeks I expect to have a similar adaptation of War and Peace ready to post. Stay tuned ;-)

Comments

Some cool crap for Christmas!

Yes... yes... you figured it out. This is about potty training ;-)

Bobbin's been doing pretty well sitting on the potty at school when asked, and when asked at home too. She hasn't actually put anything into it though, but she's sat on it willingly which is a good step in the right direction. She also knows when it's coming which is another good step. But rather than put the two together it's just been easier and more convenient for her to ignore the feeling and let it go into her diaper. Which, thanks to modern technological advances in superabsorbency, is not such an unpleasant experience when the diaper is of the disposable persuasion as opposed to the cloth kind (definitely a plus for cloth diapers, but they just didn't fit well into our life or schedules). Even when the output is of the number 2 variety.

And so Tim and I decided to use the week at home between Christmas and New Years, to provide some gentle but firm encouragement. Knowing Bobbin like we do, we figured "cold turkey" on the diaper dependancy was the way to go. So we enlisted Santa's help.

Santa left Bobbin some special Cinderella underpants in her stocking... sewn by hand by Mrs. Claus herself. And he took her diapers away because he knew of some littler girls that needed them more than she did. So all day Christmas and all day today, Bobbin's been wearing big girl underpants!

We set a timer to go off every 60 minutes, and when it does Bobbin knows that we'll tell her she needs to go Potty and that means stopping what she's doing right then and there and coming with one of us into the bathroom. We've been making ample use of the "pause" button on the DVD player.

Each trip to the bathroom lasts at least 8-10 minutes. Bobbin got a pile of new Dr. Suess and Berenstein Bear books from Grandma Anne and Grandpa Jerry for Christmas and we've burned through most of them in the potty over the course of the last two days. It's entertaining for me and distracting for her. She loves the bears. I think she gets that Papa Bear is a bit of an idiot. She thinks he's funny. She loves the sounds the words make together; the rhyming and silliness. And I do read them with great gusto, if I may say so myself, because they are such fun to read out loud! If you don't believe me, try your hand at "Fox in Socks", "Berenstein Bears Vacation", or "Berenstein Bears Honey Hunt" . Read 'em aloud. If you don't have a kid, read them aloud to your cat, dog, fish, or significant other. You'll be cracking yourself up before the end. I promise.

However even despite the reminders and the hourly / every-90-minute attempts, yesterday we still went through 5 pairs of underpants and 5 pairs of pant pants and not a single drop of anything ended up even remotely close to her potty.

Last night I put her to bed in underpants because I wanted to see just how long it took her at night to pee after we put her to bed and this was the most straightforward way. She always wakes up in the morning with a wet diaper, but I have no way of knowing whether it happened shortly after she went to bed, sometime in the middle, or shortly before she woke up in the morning. However now I know... about 3 hours after she goes to bed her bladder will empty. This is most likely due to the just-before-bed bottle she's not quite ready to give up yet. One thing at a time; I'm not about to ask her to give that up at the same time I'm asking her to take one of the biggest leaps towards biggirlhood that she can possibly take. And so it's back to pullups at nighttime. we'll tackle the bottle after daytime potty training is firmly complete unless she decides to kick it on her own before then.

Today however, we only went through two pairs of underpants. In part I think this was because we decided to put a pullup on her for naptime. But in part I think after yesterday's numerous accidents, I think she decided she most definitely did NOT like the feeling of being wet or messy in her underpants. This dislike was further evidenced by her very loud "NO PEE PEE! BOBBIN NO WANT PEE PEE TO COME" announcement upon waking from her nap. Tim said he went into her room to find her standing on her bed with no pants on (she had removed them because they were definitely there when we put her down for her nap) and just a pullup, loudly protesting the anticipated arrival of her pee pee with every ounce of disdain she had in her little body.

Today she did go potty whenever we asked her to, every hour, without (much) protest each time. However each time we went in there, nothing came out. This coupled with the loud protests whenever she did insist she felt the pee pee coming, I was starting to wonder if we had backfired and instead of encouraging her to go potty, we were actually encouraging her to hold it in. In which case, I wondered was she able to do so to the point where she'd start to suffer physical pain or bodily harm and was wondering if I should just give it up and go back to the pullups. But in the end, I figured another 24 hours couldn't hurt and that a two year old can't have that much advanced holding-power over her bladder no matter how much she wants to and so at some point it was going to come out. Either in the potty or elsewhere.

Anyway, the big moment actually came minutes after sitting on the potty and deciding she was done trying. She had gone back out to play, leaving me to clean up the mess of books strewn about the bathroom floor, when she called out to me from the living room in a panicked voice, "MOMMY! PEE PEE COMING! Pee pee coming. AAAARRRRRGGGGH!" I ran down the hall and found her standing in the middle of the living room, a stricken look on her face. I grabbed her hand, said "On your mark, get set, GO!" and we raced into the bathroom and pulled down her pants and sat her on the potty and not a moment too soon. A split second later, there it was, in all it's poopy glory. Her first potty! I was SOOOOO happy and thankful and proud, and we called Daddy in so he could see it, and then Bobbin ceremoniously dumped it into the toilet and flushed, and we all waved bye-bye. She was so proud too. You could see it in the smile beaming from her face.

And that is the story of the very best Christmas present that I could have possibly received; a milestone achievement on the long and bumpy, and often-forked road to potty-training completeness. Let's see if we can repeat it tomorrow. Even just once will thrill me :-)

Comments

You know you're an overstressed mom who needs more quality alone time when

1) "You find that slowly browsing the aisles at Target, by yourself, is better than therapy". Oddly enough I thought I was the only one who did this, and thought this, but there it was in the opening paragraph of the book "I Was A Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids" and when I read it I laughed so hard I cried. Or maybe I cried so hard I laughed...

2) On your "free" day where you don't have to pick the munchkin up from school, you beeline for the local Bed Bath and Beyond and spend half an hour "testing" their homeopathic massage chair. Man... that felt good. Sad thing: there was a lady next to me doing the same thing with the next model up. After about 20 minutes she turned to me and said "You know, this one is better. I tried that one and it's good, but this one has shoulder massage too, and it does a much better job at really kneading your muscles. Here, you try it. Really". And so we traded at her insistance. I must have looked like I needed a better free mechanical massage. Only it was much better. She was so right. We both left the shop empty handed. I guess neither of us could really justify the $199 pricetag. But I bet I see her there again next Monday. Cause that's where I'm gonna be ;-)

3) Your own reading material is stacked up next to the toilet instead of on top of your nightstand. And your nightstand is piled with books whose pages are a quarter-inch thick each, and consist of a total of 10 words cover to cover.

4) Your own laundry is stacked haphazardly in piles in baskets on the floor while your daughter's is neatly put away in her room, and you don't think twice about not wearing matching socks after you spend 10 minutes digging through the baskets only to find one of every colour in the morning, or whether the shirt you pulled out of the laundry basket in the closet and put on to wear to work is clean because you can't remember whether the basket in the closet or the basket in the bedroom is the one with the dirty clothes in it, and it doesn't really matter because you throw your dirtly clothes into both of them randomly when you get home so the dirty and clean are all mixed up anyway.

5) You get home and instead of rushing in and cheerily greeting the family you haven't seen since breakfast and whom spent the entire day thinking of when you should have been focused on work and whom you love dearly more than life itself, you instead turn the car engine off, recline the driver's seat, put on your scarf, hat, and mittens, close your eyes, lean back, and enjoy the absolute complete and utter silence one last time. Yeah... it's cold in a quiet car at 7pm in December, but damn it's worth it to not hear a single voice.

Comments

Botany 101

This

Is Common Yew. Or English Yew. Image courtesy of wikipedia.org. Its latin name is Taxus Baccata. And it is toxic. As in poisonous. As in can be fatal:

"parts of the tree are highly toxic—except the bright red aril surrounding the seed, enabling ingestion and dispersal by birds—due to cyanide and the toxic alkaloid taxine. The plant remains toxic, even when wilted or dried. Symptoms include staggering gait, muscle tremors, convulsions, collapse, difficulty breathing, and eventually heart failure. However, death occurs so rapidly that many times the symptoms are missed. Horses may die from a mouthful of yew, and a 1/4 lb of the plant will kill an adult horse in 15 minutes. The tree should be fenced off or removed from pasture land to prevent grazing animals from consuming it."

Remember the part that says "except the bright red aril surrounding the seed". That's important later on.

This is the number for Washington State Poison Center:

1-800-222-1222

A very handy number to have on your cell phone speed dial in case you or a loved one accidentally or intentionally ingests a substance that is either unknown in its toxicity or known to be poisonous. Dial this number, and you are connected directly to a human who is knowledgeable in such matters as whether or not a Common Yew or English Yew berry will have any kind of effect on a two-year-old when ingested.

Thankfully, the answer to that question is "little to no effect", which is what I was told when I dialed the Washington State Poison Control center after receiving the number from the nursery who identified the clipping I had taken from the bush from which Bobbin had snatched and swallowed a berry before I was able to fish it out of her mouth. The nursery also gave me a handy fridge magnet with the Poison Control number printed on it, should the need arise in the future again.

I hope it does not.

I actually don't know for sure if Bobbin swallowed the berry or not. I was almost certain she had not; I was watching her like a hawk while she was picking the damn berries.

We were walking around the block next to her school (we do this frequently when the weather is nice, before getting in the car to head home for the day). Bobbin stopped at a bush in front of the apartment complex next to her school when she saw the red berries that were peeping out from the foliage. "Bobbin pick bey-yees?" she asked me. Points for asking. I always tell her she needs to ask before she picks berries of any kind. "Yes, you can pick them. But no eating them. We can't eat these. These are for birds. They will make our tummies sick if we eat them, ok?" She nodded. "Bobbin feed birdies bey-yees" she replied, and started plucking away. After she had a couple in her hands I said "Ok, now we need to throw them on the ground so the birdies can eat them". "Bobbin eat them?" she asked. "No, no eat them. Bobbin can't eat them. They'll make your tummy sick. Make Bobbin's tummy sick. And you will have to go to the hospital. We can't eat these kinds of berries" was my firm reply, as I crouched down and looked her straight in the eye. "Throw them on the ground and let the birdies eat them".

In the past, Bobbin has always complied. I know she understands. She knows what "tummy sick" is. She knows certain things will make her very sick if she eats them. And she knows she's supposed to ask before eating berries. We've been through this routine several times and she always tosses the berries to the birdies and acknowledges that the berries are not for people and that they'll make people sick.

But this time was different. This time, quick as lightening, she grinned and popped one in her mouth as I crouched looking into her eyes. I'm pretty sure it was just one. And with my mommy-reflexes kicked into high gear, I reached into her mouth and swept the berry out with my index finger, tossed it on the ground, and then wiped my hands on my pants. "No no no! That's not ok. I said no eating the berries. these berries will make you sick. These berries will give you a big owie in your tummy! No more berries, no more picking, and no more feeding the birds" and I picked her up and carried her swiftly back towards our car.

On the way back she apologized. "Soh-wee mommy", she said earnestly. "Thank you Bobbin" I replied. "I accept your apology". "Bobbin eat beh-yee" she said. "Yes, you almost did, but mommy got it out" I recapped. "No, Bobbin eat beh-yee". I looked at her. "Did you eat one?" I asked. "Yes" she answered. "Did you swallow it?" I asked. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "Where is it now?" I asked. "In Bobbin's tummy" she responded, patting her little tummy.

Oh crap. Did she have two in her hand? I only saw one in her mouth. Dammit.

"Ok," I said, "well if you swallowed it and it is in your tummy, then you might start feeling sick. If your tummy starts to hurt or your head or body starts to hurt or if you feel tummy-sick you need to tell mommy right away. Do you understand?" she nodded. "Bobbin eat beh-yee. Not ok. No more beh-yees. Make Bobbin's tummy sick". I looped back to the bush and broke off a branch with a berry dangling on the end and put it in my pocket. Then I took her back inside the school to wash her hands and get her a big cup of water. She drank several sips before pouring it out. Then I strapped her in the car, and called her doctor's office which, not coincidentally, is just down the street from her school, not a block away.

"Mommy? Bobbin need go hopital?" she asked from the back seat out of the blue just as I was about to dial. I turned around. "Well, Bobbin, I don't know. Maybe. Let me ask the doctor". Bobbin started to cry. "Bobbin no WANT go hopital. Bobbin no WANT go. Bobbin no WANT tummy sick!" Reality had started to sink in. In a way, I was glad to see her concern. "Let mommy ask the doctor. We'll do what the doctor says, ok?". I held her hand and finished dialing.

After explaining what happened, the nurse got on the line and said that if she seems fine now, there's really no point in bringing her in; they can't check for anything, but I should watch for allergic reactions (hives, rash, trouble breathing) and also gave me the number of the Washington Poison Center. That's when I made the first call.

I explained to the helpful gentleman that answered the Poison Center hotline what had happened and he assured me that even though he couldn't positively ID the type of berry over the phone (he was very polite; there was no "duh" tone in his voice :-)) that the fact that it was just one berry meant that it wouldn't cause any severe problems. He said I could always take a clipping to a nursery to get it positively identified, but that a single berry from anything wasn't going to be serious.

Well, I had a clipping, and there's a nursery on the way home so I stopped on the way. Bobbin was happily singing to herself throughout these conversations, in the back seat, occasionally demanding that we cook hot dogs when we got home and reminding me that she ate a "beh-yee" and that it might make her tummy sick.

The nursery was officially closed, but the man who came out to greet me and inform me of this, didn't hesitate to help me when I explained the situation. He looked at the clipping; identified it as a Yew; went inside and looked it up on the internet to confirm, and then informed me of his findings. And then handed me the magnet. I called Poison Control back and the guy on the other end confirmed - it'd take a whole bowl full of berries to have a significant effect. One berry wasn't going to be a problem.

And so went my first experience dealing with a toddler-ingested toxic substance.

Comments

You gotta know when to hold 'em

But you also gotta know when to play 'em. I'm not sure that I've completely mastered either, but I at least appear to be still in the game; maybe even breaking even.

I found myself playing the Santa card this weekend for the first time. We were at Target. I had managed to successfully bypass the toy section on my way to purchase her a new school backpack, only to find ourselves in the music section where she practically did a swan dive out of the shopping cart trying to get her hands on one of the guitars on the display shelf shrieking in excitement. "Mommy! Look! Real guitar! Bobbin want to play it! Bobbin want own guitar! Bobbin take it home! Like Laurie Berkner!" The Laurie Berkner Band is her all time favourite singing group. She loves them and from a parental perspective they are actually quite tolerable. Really quite good, actually. However I was not about to purchase my little budding musician a guitar of her own. Yet. So I heard myself actually say, " well, if you really want a guitar you'll have to write Santa a letter and let him know. And you'll have to be able to tell him honestly that you've been a good girl listening to Mommy and Daddy and playing nicely with your friends.

It actually worked. Or, I guess more accurately, it yielded the desired immediate result of allowing us to move on to our real shopping goal without debate or whining. It could still come back to haunt me later.

Comments

Workmom's Comp

In the last two years I have incurred more eye injuries requiring medical attention than the previous 35 years of my life. There was the comb incident. A severe finger poke (bobbin's finger, not mine). A bobbin head bash to my eye socket. A recent corneal abrasion that caused moderate orbital swelling and bright red discolouring (not to mention a fair amount of discomfort) in my right eye, and just this evening a swift blankie-snap to the left eye, which is still stinging and waterinq.

None of these injuries were inflicted intentionally. Just part of the hazards of mommyhood,I guess. Still, I'm thinking a pair of safety glasses might be in order. I contemplated a goalie mask but I think that might be overkill.

Thankfully I think I still have some steroid drops from my last trip to the opthamologist to help with this latest eye incident.

Comments

Sour and Sweet.

Today, I was "that mother" with "that child". You know - the mother hauling the screaming two-year-old out of the mall because she didn't do as I asked and I was following through on my promise that "If I have to tell you one more time, we're going home".

The one to whom mothers who have never had two year olds give dirty looks, and the one to whom mothers who have two year olds who happen to be behaving like little angels at that precise moment in time, give smug looks of superiority. And on occasion, the one to whom mothers who have teenagers give looks of wistful longing that say "if only THAT was my biggest problem again..."

She started melting down at 7:12pm. She asked for water. Then juice. Then water-juice. Then specified that she wanted it in a cup. So we headed over to the pretzel shop and, carrying her because she was still in her bare feet from playing in the water fountain (we were at the mall) . I ordered a small lemonade, a bottle of water, and a paper cup. I was thirsty and apparently she was too. I didn't care what I drank, so I decided to give her a choice when she wasn't readily capable of deciding on the spot between lemonade and water herself.

We headed back to the "concert" we were watching (a Hawaiian band with hula dancers) and I proceeded to set her down, along with the cups, the water, and the straws. She picked up the bottle of water and threw it down and started screaming "No water! No water! No water. Bobbin want water! Bobbin want water!" and completely melted down. Then she got up and started walking away from me. In the crowded mall.

I immediately abandoned my bag of newly purchased books, along with our completely untouched drinks, and snagged her and brought her back and looked her in the eyes. "Do not run away from mommy. Not ok. You could get lost or hurt. You stay where I can see you. that's the rule. Do you understand?"

"Yes" she sobbed. "If you run away again, we go home. That's the rule". She nodded, so I let go. And she immediately took off again, screaming and sobbing "No juice! No water! No bottle! Bobbin want milk! Bottle milk! No water! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH SCREECH! SHRIEK!".

And I ran after her, scooped her up in my arms, and brought her little 3-foot-tall, 29lb, kicking, screaming, twisting body back to our spot, slung her over my left arm, looped my right arm through the book bag, snatched up the two paper cups - one full of lemonade, the other half full of water - along with the water bottle and straws, and lugged them all over to the nearest garbage can which happened to be through the concert audience and across the street, set Bobbin down as gently as I could given her writhing contortions, tossed the undrunk drinks in the can, reloaded my book bag, dug out my keys from my pocket, picked her back up and carried her kicking and screaming all the way back to the car.

Yup. I was "that mother". With "that kid". But I take some pride in the fact that I at least was not the mother who also left her mess behind for someone else to clean up. I've seen that one many times.

Fast forward to "night night" time. She had calmed down once we got out of the garage and on the road. We got inside, played a bit, and then she got into her jammies so she could have her nite-nite bottle of milk. After sucking the whole 8 ounces down in all of 2 minutes, she snuggled into me and said "Mommy, cuddle?". "Of course" I replied. "I love cuddling with you. It's my favourite thing to do". She reached up and patted my cheek and looked me in the eyes. "My mommy" she said. "Yes, I'm your mommy. Bobbin's mommy. No one else's mommy. All yours". She gave me a kiss. "Nobody take Bobbin mommy away. Not ok. My mommy. No take Bobbin mommy away." I choked back happy tears. "Nobody is going to take mommy away from you. No one. I promise. I am always your mommy, and no one can take me away".

I wish I could tell you she then fell immediately and happily to sleep. But she's two, so of course she didn't. She got a second wind, we played with her dollhouse, read a book, had another bottle, had a little tantrum about our school blankie (she's going through a "no blanket" phase, but it's not quite that straightforward. It has to be within sight, and no one is allowed to touch it, but she doesn't want it on or touching her in any way), went to her room and rocked in her chair, and she finally then fell asleep on my lap.

Comments

A Bobbin says 'Duh!'

Most of the times, these days, Bobbin's able to get her point across quite eloquently. She's quite articulate and descriptive and has a huge vocabulary. However there are still the rare occasions when I have absolutely no idea what she's saying. And boy, does that cause fireworks!

A couple of days ago, Bobbin was standing in the kitchen next to the computer, staring up at the cupboard. "Undages", she said.

Me: Undages?

Bobbin: UNDAGES! UNDAGES UNDAGES!

Me: Bandages?

Bobbin: NO NO NO UNDAGES UNDAGES AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH

Me: Underarms?

Bobbin: UNDAGES MAMA UNDAGES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLL UNDAGES. UNDAGES. SOOOOBBBBBB SHRIEEEEEKKKKK

Me: Appendages? Where'd you learn that word? Such a smart girl, you are

Bobbin: NO NO NO NO! UNDAGES NO APPAGES !UNDAGES UNDAGES NOW UP DERE [bodyslam on the brazilian cherry floor] SCREEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM GASP GASP CAN UNDAGES!!!

Me: Oh! Canned Oranges!

Bobbin: Yes. Pease. Undages. Peeeese, mommy? Some Undages in bowl pease?

Early this morning, shortly after waking and watching one of her Elmo shows, Bobbin turned to me and asked politely, "Wats Pat Tees Pease, Mommy?"

Me: You want to pat cheese?

Bobbin: NO! PAT TEES!

Me: Part cheese? You want to watch the cheese part of the show?

Bobbin: NO! NO! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! PAT TEES PAT TEES PAT TEES

Me: I don't understand, honey. Can you show Mommy?

Bobbin: NO! SHREEEEEIIIIIIIIK PAT TEES PAT TEES MOMMY NO GOOD! NO LIKE DIS SOE. WATS PAT TEES"

Me: (lamely) I'm sorry sweetie. I still don't understand what you want.

Eventually I managed to get her focused on going to school with the promise that we'd try again to do what she was asking later this afternoon.

Fast forward to later this afternoon. Bobbin sees Tim outside watering the flower garden with the hose.

Bobbin: Mommy? Daddy outside?

Me: Yes. Daddy's outside.

Bobbin: Go see?

Me: Ok. Let's go see.

Bobbin: What daddy doing?

Me: Daddy's watering the flower garden.

Bobbin (looking at me with a calculated stare): Daddy water pat?

Me: Yes, Daddy's watering the plants.

Bobbin (still with the calculated look): Daddy water tee?

Me: Yes, Daddy might water the trees too.

Bobbin (with a triumphant yet still very calculated look): Daddy water pat tees?

Me: Yes, Daddy's watering the.... OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH. Plants and Trees! You wanted to watch the plants and trees show this morning! The Elmo Flower, Plants and Trees!

Bobbin (face breaks into a blindingly sunny grin): Yes! Wats Pat Tees, Mommy, please? (in her innocent little voice :-))

Me: Of course! Lets' watch the Plants and Trees show!

Leading me by the nose, she was. With a nice firm grip.

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Toddler Zen and Pavlov's Mommy

"Take a bef, Mommy. Mommy... take a bef. Take a bef. Taaaake a bef. Its ok, mommy. Its ok. Take a bef. Ok mama. Ok. Atta girl. Good girl mama. Take a bef."

bef = "breath"

Imagine a tiny, quiet, high-pitched voice saying this over and over in your ear (a little too closely, I might add, but still oddly soothing), while patting your back and smoothing your hair.

Which is precisely what I get in response to "Bobbin, you're not listening to Mommy. Mommy's getting angry. Please come here now and pick up your crayons like I asked".

Of course, this is much better than the "Mommy! Mo-mEEEE! Mommy come here NOW. Right now. Sit down, Mommy, sit down. Mommy not issening. Not issening mommy. Not ok" routine that I get when I don't drop absolutely everything and come right away when her majesty demands it.

Then there is the "Mommy, no calking. Be kiy-et. No calking, Mommy, sssss. Kiy-et" whenever I'm trying to carry on a conversation with anyone but her.

But behaviourism also suggests the use of positive reinforcement to encourage the desired outcome and so I'll also get "Oh, Mommy! Good girl, Mommy! Vey good. Sank ooo soo muts, Mommy. Mommy good girl" whenever I do something that in her eyes is worthy of praise.

I'd give you more examples, but I think I hear a bell ringing. I better go check on Bobbin.

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With age comes more free time... and flowers!

I've been planting flowers outside around the house the last couple of weeks. I'm averaging about 2 a day. Usually after school Bobbin plays on the deck or "helps" me while I'm planting. We have colour in our yard!

So far I've planted

- 2 large fiberglass planters on the deck - one with Red geraniums, orangey-yellow begonias, and a really pretty deep purple-black leafy plant that I don't know the name of. The other has some tall purple flowers, and some traily orange daisy-looking flowers, and a pretty variagated dark and light green textured leafy plant none of which I know the names of :-) But I'm proud of them - they look like something you'd pay $50 a piece for already planted and arranged at a fancy yuppy garden and flower store. But I bought the pots, potting soil, and all the plants separately and cheap at the local Fred Meyer and did the work myself :-) They're stunning. And thriving :-)

- 2 tall pink beard-tongues and 2 tall, lush fushia-coloured pineapple sage plants and 2 mexican heathers in the triangle garden as you walk up to the deck. The garden itself needed some serious weeding and so far I've only weeded enough to plant the 6 plans and room around so you can actually see them. But they look pretty together, and I was instantly rewarded for my efforts by observing two hummingbirds happily flitting about the flowers upon returning home from work after the first day they were planted. And even better, Bobbin saw the hummingbirds too! This is the same garden in which the baby bunny made its appearance this morning. It's my little magical Snow White garden.

- 2 beautiful hydrangeas on the back side of the house - one on either side of our concrete landing (or as Bobbin likes to call it, her "castle"... sigh... the girl's gonna have some large amount of fun playing pretend around the house; she already does :-)). When I bought them in their container they had a soft pink hue. Since planting them in the ground, one has turned an absolutely brilliant colour of deep pink, and the other is starting to turn pretty shades of purple. I read that hydrangeas will change colour based on the ph of the soil and the amounts of aluminum and phosphorus that they have. I found a good site on the internet that explains the colour change and how to influence it. However I'm quite happy to let them turn whatever natural colour they are going to turn as a result of living in the soil that is my back yard. So I water them and otherwise let them be as a sort of experiment to see how they do. So far they are looking pretty lush and colourful and are creating lots of new buds. I had hydrangeas at my first house - it was quite old and bloomed true blue every year there. I like these vibrant pinks and purples I'm seeing. Be interesting to see what they do next year, assuming they survive :-)

- 1 hibiscus - not sure what variety. I think it may have red blooms. The leaves are dark green. It's at the corner of the deck to the right of the steps as you go up. Digging the hole for that one was a backbreaking task. Most of what we have around the house is fill consisting of lots of rocks and dirt. The rocks are varying size but they are everywhere. There are dings all over the metal shovel i used from hitting so many rocks. It took forever to dig a hole deep enough for the plant plus room left over for some top soil. So far it looks healthy; I hope it survives! Given its proximity to the house and in particular the laundry room, as well as the climate in general, I think it should be fairly comfortable in the winter so I hope it holds out and if it doesn't bloom this year, I hope it will next. I read somewhere that hibiscus also tend to attract humming birds... so I've apparently unwittingly created quite a haven for the little critters in front of the house. Should be a lot of fun!

- 2 pink lilies in the bed out front of the tv-room. This is where the tulips come up in the spring, but there's nothing there now so I thought i'd add some colour.

I've been watering and checking them all on a daily basis, picking off dead blooms, etc. Not something I would have found the time for this time last year, if you know what I mean... not to mention that I also never would have gotten around to being able to actually plant anything to begin with (what flowers we did have blooming are courtesy of Margaret, Tim's Mom, who would drop by after we moved and subtly plant bulbs and things we had brought with us into pots and beds to prevent them from reaching an otherwise untimely end :-))

I must say, it's been fun! Bobbin enjoys helping me water the plants with her little watering can, and digging holes in the dirt with her little shovel, and piling up the empty plant containers for the recycling bin. And when she gets bored of that, she entertains herself on the deck or in the yard nearby, singing and talking to herself and millie moo and tommy. It's quite... the opposite of stressful... what's that called? Relaxing. Calming. Happiness.

When I get my spare camera battery and charger (I accidently left it at Mom & Dad's) I'll take some pictures and post them and you can all tell me how pretty they look and what a good job I've done :-)

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Mommy's Day Weekend and Grandma's Magic Garden

A fun filled weekend marked my 2nd Mommy's Day. Saturday started off with 2 belgian draft horses coming over to haul our cedar logs:

and ended with a BBQ at Jeni & Roger & Baby L's house, where Bobbin spent the afternoon in their back yard playing hide and seek with another little girl her age (just under a month older) and eating burgers while Mommy liesurely sipped wine on the deck and even occasionally went into the house to get munchies alone without Bobbin even batting an eyelash. Progress!

On Mommy's Day proper, I slept in until 7:30am (it sounds luxurious but it's actually a double-edged sword; she didn't go to sleep until 9:30 the night before), had a lovely breakfast with Tim and Bobbin, and then we headed over to Grandma's house for a visit. Grandma & Grandpa have visited here frequently, but this was Bobbin's first trip to Grandma's house, and she was absolutely enthralled.

First, Grandma has these really great bug-shaped cookies that were so nummy. And she has a whole pile of toys to play with. But the best part of all was Grandma's back yard!

Bobbin thought it was magical. She was enchanted from the moment she stepped out of the back door. There's a little pond with goldfish in it, and a tiny waterfall, and a little fish fountain spouting water. And there are flowers and plants everywhere - in the ground and in pots and planters, on the deck, and everywhere. And there's soft green grass to play on, and fun stepping stones to jump on. And there are little treasures hidden throughout that Bobbin delighted in finding - little statue of a kitty with a butterfly on his nose, and two little foxes, and bunnies, and mushrooms with fairies, and beautiful butterflies with metalic wings, and a snail with sparkly antennae, and a tiny bobbin-sized park bench for sitting on and soaking it all in. And there was even a pirate ship to play in! Bobbin didn't want to leave. It started sprinkling and getting chilly but she didn't care. It was past lunch time, but she didn't care. She was starting to get tired, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to "Go outside, Grandma's house?" Even we got home, "Grandma's house outside" was all she talked about. Grandma, hope you're ok with more frequent visits from us ;-)

After Grandma's house we went to Ruby's for lunch. Bobbin was way hungry and we narrowly avoided a hunger-related meltdown.

After lunch she fell asleep in the car ride home, and I thought for a moment I'd be able to pop her into her crib without her waking up when we arrived, but that was not to be. She was awake, tired, but having nothing to do with a nap. That didn't stop me from taking one though, while Tim gallantly tried to distract her for a couple of hours :-) Afterwards, we played outside and then came in for dinner. By that time she was thoroughly exhausted, and fell asleep in my arms at the dinner table not 2 minutes after we had sat down.

I put her in her crib and she slept for about an hour, woke up raring to go, and we finally got her back to bed at 10pm. She fought sleep with every fiber of her being. I'm pretty sure she was mostly concerned about missing out. She didn't start to relax until after I had gone through the names of every person and animal she knows, one by one, telling her they had gone to sleep.

All in all though, an absolutely beautiful mother's day. And to top it off, here are more photos from this weekend, which incidentally were taken with my brand new camera - my mommy's day gift!

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Silly mama

"Silly mama", is Bobbin's favourite saying these days. It's cute, but only until I'm not actually trying to be silly and then I'll suspect that it'll be irritating. Like if I'm reprimanding her for something she's not supposed to do, or trying to get her to brush her teeth or get in the bathtub or let me change her diaper. So far she's only used the phrase when I'm actually trying to be silly, but I'm thinking ahead. I'm always thinking ahead. It's what a silly mama does.

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Sweet Molly Malone

In response to my Dad's comment in the last post, I have to say I didn't remember the exact lyrics, but it did conjure up the image I always envisioned when I heard it sung, of a tattered and dirty little barefoot orphan girl pushing a wheelbarrow filled with cockles and mussels down a cobblestone street and then dying in a doorway alone, hungry, and sick.

Yeah. Happy song. It is a pretty melody though. Aren't they all? You gotta listen to the words to get thoroughly depressed. Of course, I had to then go and look up the lyrics on the interwebs. The song goes like this:

In Dublin's fair city,
Where girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she pushed her wheelbarrow
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

Chorus:
Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

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But it's ok, because mommy's waiting under the tree to kiss it better

I have never sung "Rock-a-bye Baby" to Bobbin. I think it's the whole baby rocking on top of a tree and then plunging to what can only be certain death vibe of the song. I sing her Que Cera Cera, Toora Loora Loora, and Moon Moon Moon, with a smattering of Hush Little Baby and Twinkle Twinkle thrown in for good measure. So someone at school must be singing the song, or they must be playing on the CD player. Because Bobbin knows it.

Not only does she know it, she understands it.

The other night Bobbin and I were rocking in her chair in her room just before bed. Bobbin looked up at me and asked "Tee top?"

Tree top? I scoured my brain, coming up empty. What was she talking about? "What about the tree top, honey? Tell mommy more about the tree top". Bobbin thought a moment and then said "Baby? Rock". It took me a few seconds to piece it together because, as I said, I never sing that song to her. But then I realized she wanted me to sing Rock-a-bye Baby. So I obliged.

Rock-a-bye Baby
In the tree top.
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks
The cradle will fall,
And down will come baby,
Cradle, and all.

"Again", was Bobbin's reply. So I sang it again. Then Bobbin put her hand up to her forehead and, smacking it gently, said "Hurt. Head". "Yes, falling from the top of a tree could cause you to hurt your head" was my response. "Baby. Kie", she said. "Yes, and the baby might have cried when she fell", I said. Bobbin stared at me, contemplating this. "Sad" she said. "Yes, yes I guess it is a little sad. But what the song doesn't tell you is that the baby's Mommy is waiting at the bottom of the tree, and catches the baby when she falls. So the baby doesn't get hurt and doesn't cry. Mommy kisses the baby better". I pause, watching her, to see if she's buying any of this. "Mama Kiss", she said. "Baby no kie". It must have made sense. Whew.

Then I went back to Toora Loora Loora. It'll probably be at least another year before she asks why the singer's mother can't sing the lullabye anymore.

Lullabyes. So darn depressing, really. Falling babies. Dead mothers. Materialistic aspirations. Dogs that won't bark and birds that won't sing. I need to expand my repertoire.

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Ah... the sweet sounds of silence, and my laundry on spin cycle

That's right. I'm in the house. ALONE. And not on a sick day from work. AND I'm doing MY OWN laundry. Not Bobbin's. Not towels. Not blankets. My clothes. Clothes I wear. Mine.

Tim and bobbin left around 10:20 this morning. Ok... there's no around this morning. I looked at the clock when they pulled out of the driveway.

I spent the first 10 minutes savouring the silence. I lay on the couch with a blanket in the living room watching the rain fall outside the windows. Heaven.

No Elmo in the background. No "mama! mama! 'Mon! Mama!". No "Don't hit Tommy. No hitting. That hurts. Say you're sorry".

After my 10 minutes I got to work. I started a load of laundry. I sorted the rest in to darks, lights, and whites. I folded towels and put them away. I put Bobbin's laundry away. I tidied our bathroom and closet. I took out some garbage. I picked up the entire house - bedrooms, bathrooms, living room, dining room, TV room, kitchen, and laundry room. I ate lunch. I started Bobbin & Tim's lunch. I wrote this blog.

And I just got the call they're on their way home, so gonna finish up lunch and be ready to greet them...

Ah.... nice morning :-)

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Breakfast with Bobbin

I remember when the morning routine with Bobbin started at 6am, when she would demand immediate removal from the crib and a sprint to the kitchen for her bottle, with no stops in between unless you wanted to deal with the tears and shrieks of disappointment that would invariably follow if you strayed from the path. even to go to the bathroom. This would be followed by frenzied dressing, and hair brushing and teeth brushing (on my part), searching for clean clothes (me again; I always make sure she has clean clothes :-)), keys, and other necessities, and then juggling baby, bottle bag, phone, knapsack or purse, and car keys while struggling to unlock the door, get down the porch stairs while trying not to break an ankle or drop the munchkin, and getting everyone and everything into the car without any collateral damage. By the time we pulled away from the house I was sweating in my work clothes, strands of hair were escaping my ponytail, and I was usually sporting a new stain on my shirt.

These days, Bobbin wakes around 6:45 or 7am, and begins with a review of the day's schedule alone in her crib with Millie Moo. "Mahning, Moo! Seep Ah-kay? Ah-kay. Mama, baba? Juice? See-al? Eh-mo potty show. Chidge. Skoo. Brrrmmmm. Ah-kay? Ah-kay. ". Which translates roughly into "Morning, Millie Moo! Did you sleep ok? Ok. Mama's going to get us our bottle soon. Do you want Juice? How about cereal? We can watch the elmo potty show while we have breakfast. Then we'll get changed. And then we'll go to school in the car. Ok? ok." After going over the day's itinerary with Millie, she'll call out cheerfully to me, "Mama? Baba! Mah-mah! Mah-ning! Baba!" at which point I'll get out of bed and head into her room.

"Moon on?" she'll ask me, pointing to the ceiling light. She calls her light and the one in our dining room the moon. They do both kinda look like the moon, cream-coloured alabaster, with swirls of white. I'll turn on her light and then she'll tell me "Good Mahning" and explain about how Millie Moo was "seeping nite-nite" but now Millie moo is "wake-up" and how they both need to be "chidged" and that she'd really like her "baba" and could I please lift her "dun". I'll pick her up out of her crib and set her down and then she'll grab my hand and say "Mama potty" and lead me into the bathroom. She knows I really need to pee first thing in the morning. I'll do my business while she waits patiently with a wad of toilet paper in her hands, watching me intently. I'll ask her for the toilet paper, and when she tries to reach in to "mama keen" I'll remind her gently that mama likes to wipe herself clean and ask her for the toilet paper, which she cheerfully hands over.

Hands washed and dried, we'll walk hand in hand out to the kitchen and she'll remind me to turn on the fish tank lights, and the "moon" in the dining room, and ask about the "deeh" (deer) and if we can "appah toe" (apple throw) and then point to the fridge and ask again for her "baba". Once I've made it she'll reach up to me and say "Mama, sit? Eh-mo." and I'll pick her up and we'll go sit in the living room and watch one of her Elmo dvds. These days, it's almost always the "Potty Show".

She'll polish off her bottle and ask for "mah", and I'll suggest I get her some toast and oranges instead, to which she'll reply "ah-kay". I'll tell her to keep my chair warm while I go make her breakfast. She loves that. She thinks she's being sneaky, stealing mommy's chair and she'll giggle and call out "Mama!" the entire time I'm in the kitchen. I'll run back in when she calls me and, hands on my hips, exclaim "Hey! You're in my chair! Did you steal my chair? Look at you" and she'll giggle some more and wiggle her butt around in the chair with a proud and goofy grin on her face.

I'll bring her toast and oranges and my own breakfast back into the TV room (yeah yeah yeah. Breakfasts are allowed in the tv room in the morning. Dinner has the strict "Eat at the table" and "no tv" policies) and we'll sit and eat together and finish watching Elmo.

Tommy will usually join us at this point, and Bobbin will exclaim "Mahning, Buddy!" and direct him to go lie in his "new bed" and give him a pat and kiss and hug.

Then we'll head back to her room to get changed and brush teeth and comb hair and get mommy dressed (I do look forward to the day I can go and get dressed without an audience. For some reason, peeing in front of the munchkin doesn't bother me. Nothing's really exposed in that position. But getting dressed and undressed is something I'd really rather do without her fascinated scrutinizing, constant pointing and "wassat?" (what's that?). )

Then we say our bye-bye's to Daddy, Tommy ("buddy"), and the kitties, and head out the door and march up to the car together, hand in hand again, and go to "skoo".

The ride to school is a chatty one. She points out the fire truck house ("WOOOOoooo WOOOOooooo. Tuck. In"), and the "tuun" (turns), and when the lights at the intersection turn green she'll let me know I can go ("GO!"). When we pass the grocery store, she'll exclaim "Appah Sto!" (Apple Store); when we pass the gas station, she'll shout out "Gas!" and when we pass the residential construction project she'll point out "Tata! Two!" and hold up 2 fingers to indicate the two tractors she saw pushing dirt around and digging holes. If it's a nice day outside she'll chat about the "Petty boo kye!" and the wind "wwshhhshshshsh" blowing the "cowds". We see lots of "wata" (water) on our trip to school too. And planes, and birdies. And we see lots of "tucks... BEEEEG tucks!" (trucks, BIG trucks!) and "siddy-bus"es (city busses) and "skoo bus"es (school buses). We pass a restaurant ("Toot toot!") and Daddy's "stahbux" and then we're at school.

Dropping her off is no longer a drama. She's usually off and running or demanding "yum" (her word for yogurt) from her teacher and is just much too busy for anything other than a quick "bye" and a wave for mommy. Some days she insists "Mama, bye-bye" which always leaves me feeling a bit torn (but I get over it quickly :-)).

Yup... mornings are good these days. I make sure I savour every one. Because I know that these will change as she gets older. They'll still be interesting and hopefully happy and fun. But these mornings are perfect. Absolutely perfect.

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Just call me Dr. Mom

My diagnosis of Bobbin was confirmed this morning by her pediatrician. Bobbin has croup. Man, had I only known I would become this virtual encyclopedia of medical information and diagnostic skills after having a child I... still would have opted to skip 3/4 of my 1st year biology class, settled for a C+ passing grade, and turned to Computer Science :-)

Atopic dermatitis
Bronchiolitis
Chronic otitis media
Croup
Enterovirus (hand, foot and mouth)
Hemangioma
Norovirus
Rotavirus
Ventrical septal defect

Ask me. I know 'em all and then some. Symptoms. Diagnosis. Transmission. Treatments. Complications. Procedures. Techniques.

Her ears checked out clean though - tubes still in place and looking good, and no signs of infection. That was my main concern. They gave her a dose of an oral steroid which should reduce the inflammation in her airway and ease her breathing which will get her over the worst of it which is this first 24 hours. Her barky cough will likely last for another few days but it's harmless, apart from waking her and I from sleep multiple times a night. She's otherwise fine; happy, active, energetic, eating & drinking normally, napping well during the day... I just hate when she gets sick because I'm always worried about her ears.

The doctor visit went relatively smoothly. She objected when her name was called, but relaxed after the nurse left the room. She got a bit upset again when the doctor came in but she was wearing her "Kitty Shirt" (Thank you Chris & Hannah! It fits perfectly now and is Bobbin's favourite sweater) and when the doctor asked what was on her shirt, she launched happily into an explanation that it was her "kitty shirt", nodding and pointing to her chest and smiling, and repeating "kitty shirt" over and over and over again.

She barely made a sound when the doctor listened to her breathing, and only squawked once when the doctor checked her ears.

Then it was "bye-bye" and she got to pick out a sticker for being such a good girl (she's partial to spiderman these days; all her little friends - most of which are boys, there only being a couple of girls in her class - wear spiderman sweaters and t-shirts) so she picked "Pie-dah mahn" from the sticker choices presented to her, and off we went to school.

Later in the afternoon when we got home I asked her to tell Daddy what happened at the doctor. She thought about it a moment, and then pointed to her chest and said "Beethe", and then pointed to each ear and said "Eah. Two." and nodded very matter of factly. When I asked what sticker she got afterwards for being so good at the doctors, she excitedly exclaimed "Pie-dah mahn!"

And that was that :-)

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God dammit, ouch!

If I step or trip or slip on one more thing... anything... DVD, crayon, piece of chalk, lego brick, wet wipe, book, stuffed animal, tupperware lid, hairbrush, diaper (clean), wooden spoon, can of oranges (don't ask), green bean, dried playdough, spare change, smeared yogurt, or wad of tissue... I'm going to scream out loud (not just in my head).

It's the start of "get even" time, isn't it... where the troublesome child is now an adult and has a child of her own and everything she dished out while growing up now starts coming back to her 10-fold. In which case, I probably should just bite the bullet now and invest in a good pair of steel-toed waterproof work boots, teflon body-armour, and a set of high quality ear plugs.

I know, I know. She's only 18 months old. I ain't seen nothin' yet. I remember my teen years. Vividly.

I'm going to go take a shower now, and give myself a soothing foot massage.

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Alone at last :-)

I am in the house alone for the first time since returning to work on wednesday. Ahhhhh :-)

Tim's taken Bobbin out for a few hours so I can get some stuff done.

Of course, the house is virtually destroyed and there is literally a mountain of Bobbin laundry to conquer, so if I wanna get a nap in, I shouldn't waste anymore time blogging :-)

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Things you never expected to be doing - #253

Spraying stain remover on a stuffed cow's crotch.

Ramblings

Our house looks like a wrecking ball swung through it. It's that messy. And it's not for lack of Tim and I trying to stay on top of it all. Who'da thunk that one tiny tot with a nasty ear infection and upper resperatory illness whose been cooped up indoors for 6 days as a result of bad health and bad weather, could leave such a mess in her wake?!

She's barely eating solids, so we offer her food more frequently to make sure she's getting enough. And she's not drinking except from the bottles from which we were having such success weaning her prior to this illness so we offer her sippy cups more frequently to try and get liquids in her via some method other than just a bottle and so that she still at least sees a cup. As a result our kitchen has a constant stack of plates and cups and bottles waiting to be washed, and another clean and waiting to be put away, and we're taking out the garbage once a day.

And then between all the food and drink prepping and garbage-taking-outing and dish-washing-and-putting-away there's a lot of play happening. She's constantly on the go when she's not powernapping for 3+ hours, or going to bed at 6pm. Which, under normal circumstances, we'd use as our time to get our house and lives back in order but under these circumstances we use to sit down and breathe and maybe catch up on sleep. But after 6 days of being cooped up in this house, it being either way too wet or waaaaaaay too cold (it was 14F here this morning when we woke up) and her being way too sick, she's bored. And nothing is keeping her interest for any amount of time. So We have blocks and cars and stickers and crayons and paper and books and dolls and trains and stuffed animals and diapers and tupperware containers and lids and boxes of rice and pasta (cause they're fun to shake) strewn about the house all the way from her bedroom to the kitchen. You'd think a tornado had blown through. And she is a bit like a tornado :-).

For the most part she's been in a good mood. But she's been wanting her bottle a LOT (probably more for comfort, and because she's not wanting to eat solids she's wanting to drink more) and she's been wanting to watch elmo ALL the time, and she's been easily frustrated when she either doesn't get her way or we aren't understanding her.

She's also had several molars bust through her gums in the last week, and that HAD to be unpleasant for her too, probably adding to her lack of desire for solid foods, and general grumpiness.

The math is pretty straightforward:

constant snot + constant cough + constant earache + constant medicine + daily doctor visits + teething discomfort + boredom + lack of familiar routine (ie school)+ the start of her asserting herself phase = one really frustrated little munchkin + 2 parents feeling hapless and completely incompetent, not to mention exhausted and a little blue.

And what does this parent do when she's exhausted and blue? Takes a sick day from work to clean house, do laundry, try to put some order back into her life, and eat.

I eat when I'm stressed and when I'm blue. You'd think that because I KNOW I do this, and KNOW it WHILE I'm doing it, that it'd be easy for me to stop. Not so. Every bite i take I know I don't need, but I want it anyway because, for that split second it takes me to chew and swallow, I feel calm and relaxed.

I could be doing a million other things to relieve my stress: working out, taking a shower or bath, going for a walk, stretching, reading. But instead I consume a piece of chocolate cheesecake and a glass of milk, and write about it. Milk and Cake. Doesn't that sound good? Except I'm only 50% enjoying it, because the other 50% is spent thinking about what will it take for me to not finish the cake and walk away and go do something that's better for me. And then I get all bummed out at my lack of willpower and then I need another bite of cheesecake to get over it, and it starts all over again.

See? I SEE the cycle I'm in. I just can't stop it. I'm stuck on the merry-go-round and can't get off. Centripetal force.

Friday is the tube surgery. She is NOT going to be a happy camper with me friday morning. Because of the general anaesthesia she's required to fast prior to the surgery. No food OR drink after midnight on Thursday. She's allowed to have sips of clear liquid up to 4 hours before her arrival at the hospital but given that we'll likely be asked to arrive around 6:30am, a few sips of clear liquid at 2am and nothing from then onwards is not likely to be met with enthusiasm. So my plan is to wake her up at 11:45pm and give her a full bottle - so that at least when we get up in the morning she's just ravenous and not completely starving. She's still not going to be happy with me though. But it'll be worth it.

And that's where I'm at. I'm tired. I'm blue. I'm only half enjoying my slice of chocolate cheesecake and glass of milk. I'm home doing dishes and laundry and housework when I really should be at work (thank goodness for severe weather conditions), munchkin is off at school trying to get back into some routine, and I'm trying to think of what we should have for dinner.

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Mom, how'd you do it?

Tim just left for 4 days for work. He'll be back on the 5th. This trip takes him to Eastern Washington.

It feels like he just got back from Nashville. Oh wait, he did just get back from Nashville.

Having him gone totally sucks for multiple reasons. I miss him, Bobbin misses him, and it's just plain exhausting when there's only one of us here (as Tim will attest to, when I was in Las Vegas and Barcelona for work earlier this year)!

Not sure how my Mom did it. But she did! And I know I can do it too. Just don't have to like it :-)

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The body remembers!

On this, my very first offical actual honest-to-goodness, not-a-sick-day-for-me-or-Bobbin, vacation day, I decided to celebrate by doing things that I haven't done in a very very long time.

I dropped Bobbin off at school and came home and took a 2 hour nap. Not because I was overtired, but because I could!

I put a fresh battery in my MP3 player and dug out my running shoes and some workout clothes that fit.

I walked 4 MILES on the trail! From the moment I stepped onto the asphalt path, my whole body burst into song. I felt the adrenalin rush before I even started sweating. I had a smile on my face that I couldn't wipe off if I wanted to. And then, my body spontaneously burst into run mode. I couldn't help it! I had to run! I wanted to raise my arms above my head like you do when you cross the finish line as I was doing so, but refrained. Not sure why; I certainly deserved it :-) I only ran about a half mile to start with, but by the end of it my heart was pounding and the blood was rushing through my body and I was breathing hard, and I was loving it. I did it a couple of more times through the walk, and I figure I ran about a mile and a half total of the 4 miles that I did today. The rest was walking at a brisk pace.

I feel AWESOME!!!!

And then when I got home I took a 20 minute shower! Unheard of! I gave myself a facial! I shaved my legs! I deep-conditioned my hair! I chugged down a litre of sparkling mineral water - straight from the glass bottle. And now I'm about to... drum roll... pluck my eyebrows! Woohoo! I may even actually blow dry my hair!!!

My body is still singing. I can feel it. It's happy. So's my brain. And so am I.

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Passe-Partout!

I'm not entirely sure what brought it to mind, but something today triggered a memory of a french-canadian TV show I used to watch as a child, called "Passe-Partout". Searching on the internet for it led me predictibly to the wikipedia, which has a pretty good synopsis of the show and its rather interesting (at least to us Canadians) history of which I had been unaware. I'm gonna have to get me some of those (legal) DVDs when they come out.

I also learned that apparently, I am part of the "G�n�ration passe-partout" :-)

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Defining the toddler years

Toddlerhood: That period of time in your child's life when

1) your floors are constantly and most desparately in need of a thorough mopping, and you have the least amount of time to mop them.

2) you somehow manage to gain weight despite the fact that you are preparing and eating the most well balanced breakfasts and dinners since you found out you were pregnant, and getting the most exercise you've had since before you were pregnant.

4) The doctors and nurses in the ER know you AND your daughter by sight.

5) The amount of food that you scrape off your child's dinner plate combined with the amount you pick up of the floor along with the chunks you peel off your socks in the evening could feed a small country.

6) You notice the dog has gained weight and has developed a taste for peas, waffles, and cheddar bunnies.

7) You find yourself running home at lunch every day to do your laundry and dishes and to vaccuum because it's the only time when you're not exhausted and you can, and then spending the afternoon back in your office binging on doritos from the vending machine. (See #2).

8) Every picture you take of your precious one is a complete blur because she's moving too fast to focus.

9) You can't see through the bottom 3 feet of any of your glass doors or windows.

10) You find yourself doing silly and childish things like making up songs and rolling down hills and stomping on leaves and jumping around on all fours barking and panting like a dog and making monkey sounds and swinging on swings and sliding on slides and lying on the ground staring up at the sky and the birds and planes flying overhead, breathless and exhausted and yet feeling the most exhilerated and energetic and high on life than you ever have... since you yourself were a toddler.

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Second childhood

Today after school, I taught Bobbin how to roll down a hill. She didn't try it herself, but she loved watching me. I'd roll down our back yard hill yelling "wheeee!" (and meaning it;-)) and she'd run after me giggling and then land on me in a heap and hug me, and then pick up my hand and walk up to the top of the hill to do it all over again.

Then I taught Bobbin how to stomp on leaves to make them crunch. We marched around the back yard like a couple of dinosaurs stomping on every dried leaf we could find. We left none unstomped. She thought it was great!

Then we turned on the hose and she stuck her hands in the stream of water and got them wet, and then dried them on her shirt, and then stuck them in the water again. Over and over. Smiling and babbling and clapping her little wet hands with delight!

After dinner Tim and I played "trucks" with her, rolling her little plastic dump truck and bull dozer and fire truck and tractor back and forth between the living room and dining room. She would run to Tim and hand him a truck and then race as fast as she could back to my lap to watch him roll it over to her. Then I taught her that a fire truck goes "OOOOOO oooooooo OOOOOOO oooooooo OOOOOOO ooooo" and she went around the house clutching her little red fire truck shouting "OOOO oooooo OOOOOOO ooooooo OOOOOO ooooo". Then I turned on the fire place, and showed her "Fire" and said "hot!" and put my hand close and then took it away and shook it and put her hand close so she could feel the heat. From then on, every time she looked at the fire she'd shake her hand. And then she'd point to the fire, and then point to her truck and go "OOOOOO oooooo OOOOOOO oooooo OOOOOO ooooo". And then she'd run over to Tim and ask him to roll it on the ground again and we'd race and crash some more.

I bought Bobbin a pinwheel today too. The kind made out of shiney coloured tinfoil mounted on a little plastic stick. When I was paying for it the girl at the cash register - she couldn't have been more than 18 or 19 - blew on it gently, making it turn, and then looked at me with genuinely wistful eyes and said "I miss being a child". I smiled. I don't. I get to live it all over again through Bobbin!

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Arguments for home schooling

September has been a terrifying month in the US (and Canada, relatively speaking) for anyone who goes to school, has kids who go to school, or knows anyone with kids who go to school. Which is pretty everyone.

From the Associated Press this morning:

"A gunman kills several students in a one-room Amish schoolhouse in Pennsylvania. In Colorado, a drifter walks into a school and fatally shoots a student before taking his own life. Wisconsin authorities charge three boys with plotting a bomb attack on their high school and, two weeks later, a student in a rural school allegedly shoots his principal. A gunman bursts into a Vermont elementary school looking for his ex-girlfriend and guns down a teacher.

All of this in the past month alone."

Stories like the ones that have happened this month have always filled me with shock and horror, but now in addition I get this humongous lump in my stomach and I feel almost physically ill. Because someday our daughter is going to school. And how the hell do I protect her from stuff like this?

I want Bobbin to experience the joys and excitement of school. Even some of the not-so-great parts of school that we don't appreciate at the time but that we look back on as valuable and useful lessons. But I don't want her to be afraid for her life to go.

It's all part of the larger question that I find myself asking again with each new ability she discovers, and each step she takes that is further away from me... how do I protect her and keep her safe from harm? Hell, how do we just keep our kids alive these days?

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I dream...

No, not of world peace. My dream is of a far more selfish nature. And in all reality is just about as likely to happen :-)

I had a massage the other day. First one in... well... gosh... I can't remember the last one I had. And while I was sitting in the lounge area, wrapped in my soft robe, with vague aromas of exotic flowers wafting by and the burbling of the copper fountain in the background, I tried to unwind before my massage and in doing so, I started imagining my "perfect day". It goes like this.

I wake up in my bedroom at the luxurious hour of 8am to a slight breeze drifting through the bedroom, carrying the faint scent of lavender. The sun is rising and it's a clear day with beautiful turquoise skies but the air is slightly crisp and the temperature is refreshing.

I lie in bed savouring the fact that I slept in, and I don't have to go to work. I don't have to be anywhere. I don't have to do anything. In the distance I hear Bobbin giggling and stirring a spoon in her pot in her play kitchen as Tim prepares her a pancake breakfast. I close my eyes and smile. I drift back to sleep.

I wake up an hour later. The house is silent. I get out of bed and find that the 3 baskets of my clean clothes that had been littering the floor on my side of the bed for the last month are gone. Everything in them have been neatly hung or folded and put away. The cats are snoozing on the corner of the bed in a sunbeam. Their litterbox is clean. There are no dusty paw prints to be found.

I wander into the kitchen. Also miraculously spotless. The dishes from last night having been cleaned and put away. Sinks are empty and gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the window. Dishwasher is empty. Garbage and recycling are no longer overflowing. The dining room table has been wiped. No evidence of the sticky pancake breakfast fun I heard Bobbin and Tim having remains. Maybe I just dreamed it. Or maybe Tim hired Mary Poppins.

There's a note on my computer desk, which has been magically tidied and organized, next to a steaming cup of hot cocoa and an orange cranberry scone, and a Gene Juarez gift card with an appointment reminder enclosed for a 90 minute massage at 2. The note says "Gone to the zoo and the playground. Back around dinner time. Love T & B".

I eat my breakfast and follow it with a leisurely shower. I shave my legs. I deep condition my hair. I even give myself a facial. I finish up and dry myself off and on a whim, I step on the scale I've been avoiding for the last two months. I stare in disbelief when it registers 30 lbs lighter than the last time I weighed myself.

I pull out my size 6 clothing from the box into which I dumped it oh so many moons ago and it all fits perfectly. I choose an outfit, finish getting dressed, pack my gym bag with my gym shoes that are conveniently and neatly sitting on the floor by my bag instead of being lost in a heap of jumbled shoes and clothes thrown on the floor during fits of frustration, and toss in my MP3 player which, despite the fact I haven't used it in at least 6 months, still works perfectly and has fully charged batteries.

I climb into the driver's seat of my freshly washed and detailed car, and head to the gym.

I do 60 minutes of intense cardio on the elliptical machine, followed by 30 minutes of weights, and 15 of stretching. I feel good. I take another long shower, and then sit in the jacuzzi, and then the steam room and then the sauna, and then finally drift off for a short catnap in the lounge by the waterfall.

I wake up refreshed and energized and head out to lunch to my favourite spot - Alexa's Cafe in Bothell. It's the perfect weather for a small cup of tomato basil soup and half of a grilled cheese and pesto sandwich.

After lunch I head out for my massage. 90 whole minutes of pure relaxing bliss, topped off by a scalp massage. Ooooh, how I love those!

I arrive back home, slip off my shoes, grab the book off the shelf that I've been intending to start for the last 14 months, pour myself a glass of wine, and head back to the bedroom deck to sit in the chaise lounge in the warm-but-not-too-much sunshine and read to the sounds of the birds chirping in the background, and the breeze rustling the leaves.

I drift off in another cat nap and awake to the sounds of tiny footsteps pitter-pattering down the hallway towards the bedroom. I turn around just in time to see Bobbin and Tim enter the doorway. She's holding a bouquet of little daisies that she and Tim picked at the park. She sees me, beams me her brightest and happiest smile, and runs towards me, little arms outstretched, and tumbles into me for the biggest bearhug she can muster. Tim smiles and comes over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Bobbin, you tell mommy about your day, and I'll go start dinner".

Dinner is steak and corn on the cob and garlic mashed potatoes and salad. Bobbin mashes the potatoes with my help, I fix the salad, and Tim's in charge of the steak and corn on the cob. Then Bobbin and I set the table.

We enjoy a leisurely dinner, Tim tells me of their adventures at the zoo and the playground, and Tommy eagerly licks up the scraps from the floor (hey, it's a fantasy but even I'm not so crazy as to think we could make it through dinner neatly at this point :-)). Then we all head out to the back deck to watch the sun set and get a last bit of outdoor play in before heading back inside to a dessert of ice cream and the last blackberries of the season. I get Bobbin into her jammies, and settle into the rocking chair with her and her stack of favourite bedtime books. I only just begin the second one when I look down and see her sound asleep, out like a light, looking like a peaceful little angel. I tuck her into bed and return to the TV room, just in time for Tim and I to catch the season premiere of my favourite show - Grey's Anatomy, which is conveniently being shown on a Saturday for my viewing pleasure (maybe it would just be easier to fantasize that we had tivo-ed it than to dream that ABC rearranged their fall primetime schedule to suit my particular preferences. Ah well).

After the show ends, We head back to get ready for bed. I peek in at Bobbin, still sleeping soundly, brush my teeth, get my own jammies on, and slide in under the cozy blankets that somehow managed to become freshly laundered since I had gotten out of bed that morning. And with that, I give Tim a kiss goodnight and drift into my own peaceful sleep. Ready for whatever the next 18 years may bring.

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It just isn't right.

I didn't get to see Bobbin this morning before leaving for work. I had to be at work for an 8am meeting and needed some prep time beforehand, and she was still in bed, sound asleep at 7:15 when I left.

I made her breakfast and set her place, laid out her clothes, and packed up her little lunch bag, and gently went in and stroked her hair before I left. I gave Tim a bunch of instructions (cause I'm a mom, and this is usually my gig in the morning!) and off I went.

I was to have a day filled with meetings from 8am - 6:30 pm. When I arrived at work I found the 8am meeting had been rescheduled to 9am, even though I had checked my work email from home at 6:30 and didn't see any updates then. I skipped my 11am meeting, and my noon one was cancelled, which meant I got a decent lunch. But I'm still going to be here till 6:30 and won't be picking Bobbin up from School at the end of the day. Which is always my absolute most favourite part of the day. Cause then we get in the car and drive home and sing songs and I ask her about her day and she says "Badu gah moodoo tuit So DOH!" in response, and we giggle and I wave to her and then we're home.

The two best parts of my days - waking up in the morning and having breakfast with her, and picking her up at school - and I don't get to have either today.

Thankfully this is the exception and not the rule, but I still don't have to like it.

And I'll be home by 7 so I'll get a couple of hours with her, at least.

Mommy loves you Bobbin, and I'm sorry I couldn't take you to school today and that I'll be late getting home!

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The stuff they don't tell you

"Better now than Friday" is how I'm trying to look at the latest plague that has descended upon our household. Bobbin and I came down with it at exactly the same precise moment. Severe congestion, sore throat, fever, and lovely green mucusy phlegmy substances coming up with every cough. Yum. You think that's TMI, you should wait till we get further into this entry (consider this your fair warning). But at least

a) we're not vomiting (knock on wood)
b) we don't have diarrhea (knock on more wood) and
c) we should be over the worst of it by her birthday and pretty much better by her party (knock knock knock knock knock)

Tim's managed to avoid this one so far. But that's not necessarily a good thing either, as it's largely due to the fact he's been working non stop, 14+ hours day for the last week, with little downtime. He's basically home to sleep. Occasionally to eat. He's been working his ass off.

It sucks enough when I'm sick or when Bobbin's sick. It sucks more when both of us are sick at the same time. But it totally sucks when both of us are sick at the same time and Tim's working non-stop.

But now, compounding my miserableness at being sick and having Bobbin sick and Tim working all at the same time, is my PMS that started today. Normally, my PM state is generally neither here nor there. But "normal" is not what I would call the past year with respect to my inner workings. It's been nearly two years since I experienced those trademark aches, pains, bloating, cramping (of course, for the first 9 months of that 2-year period, I knew why ;-)). Which leads me to the "stuff they don't tell you" part of this blog entry. If you're not interested in the detailed analysis of how my bodily functions have changed since having a baby, read no further. For the rest of you, here are the gory details.

The hormonal mood swings and post-partum depression? It can last the whole first year for some people. I'm one of those lucky people. Whoopee. I'm literally just now starting to feel like I'm back on an even keel (and starting to act like it). But then again, I'm still taking my happy pills every day. And to tell the truth, I'm a little hesitant about starting to wean off of them. Not sure I'm ready to "go it alone" with my moods and hormones yet.

Regaining bladder control can take up to a year too. Yeah, I know this one from personal experience too. It's really quite annoying. I used to be able to hold it like no one's business (which really, it isn't) but for the last year at even the slightest twinge I have to start looking around for the nearest bathroom and hope that I can make it. I've had more than my fair share of close calls. And all bets are off if I have to cough or sneeze too. The doctors and books will tell you that you can get back into your pre-pregnant shape by doing your kegels every day. Oh, and you can do them discretely and just about anywhere; sitting at your desk at work, in a meeting, on the toilet. But come ON. Really. Who does that? Regularly. Every day. Fun fun fun.

Depending on the degree of "tearing" during birth, your, ahem, other bodily functions can be lacking a little control as well. Worrying about #1 is bad enough. I also still have to worry about whether I can make it to a bathroom in time to do #2. Good times.

Finally, about the only thing regular about my menstrual cycle this past year has been its complete irregularity. Even though I'm back on the pill and have been ever since I got the go-ahead from my doctor at my 6-week checkup, I've been completely irregular. I'll miss a month, or even two. Or I'll get two periods in one month. I've been tested for thyroid conditions and hormonal conditions and even been given a pregnancy test (that was a surreal trip down memory lane :-)). I've been poked and prodded. I've tried switching pills. And apparently there's nothing wrong with me. Unfortunately my uterus remains out of the loop on the diagnosis. It's a little tiring and more than just a little disconcerting. So it was actually with a little bit of glee that I felt the familiar cramping pain earlier today. Followed quickly by annoyance since I so don't need to deal with this on top of being sick and having Bobbin being sick.

Oh, and there's much much more. But that's TMI even for me, so we'll just stop here. You can ask, but I might not feel like telling you.

Which brings me to the other challenge of dealing with all of this. It's not like anyone really talks about this kind of really personal stuff, so you're left wondering what's normal, whether there's something wrong with you, and whether you'll ever be back to the state you were in pre-pregnancy. Thankfully I have a doctor I'm comfortable with, so she's been my primary source of information letting me know that all of this is normal.

Not that knowing that helps when I'm in the middle of a mall, with a toddler who insists on walking everywhere and at her own pace, trying not to pee my pants while locating and actually getting to a restroom!

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Where oh where

did my little girl that went to bed at 8pm every night and slept until at least 6:30am go?

This past week has been a deja-vu-all-over-again back to the "early" baby girl days. She hasn't gone to sleep before 10pm all week. She's restless in her sleep, constantly waking when she loses her binky (I thought we were DONE with that) and as a result, I'm constantly waking. And she's been up by 5am almost every morning.

It's killin' me.

Her teachers say that she's been really hard to put down for her naps as well all week.

I don't know if it's the latest bout with hand, foot and mouth disease (oh yeah, did I mention? She has hand, foot and mouth disease. Again. Apparently you can only catch a strain of it once, but there are multiple strains). Red bumps so painful on her feet that for a couple of days she was choosing not to walk at all, but would crawl everywhere. And a lesion on her tongue and apparently several in her throat according to her doctor, which would explain why she hasn't been as interested in eating or drinking much. Although we've still managed to be pumping a good 24+ ounces of formula into her every day; just offering less more frequently. And it explains her slightly elevated temperature, more-than-usual fussiness, and the totally icky not-quiet-diarrhea-but-almost poopy diapers (that one's for you Grace). I'm hoping it's also the explanation for this change in sleep habit.

Cause I don't think I can keep up this 10pm down, 5am up, fussing in the middle of the night, routine much longer. The only time I get me time is if I stay up past 10 and do what I'm doing now. Oh, and I still have to make bottles. Luckily though I got a lot of the other house chores done during her morning and afternoon naps.

I suppose it could be the temperature too. It's quite warm in here - her bedroom hit 75 late afternoon and I opened her windows to try and let the evening air in to cool it off. Was only semi-successful.

Whatever the cause, I hope it's temporary and we're back on track soon. I need more sleep!

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When two worlds collide

Question: With no one around to help you, how do you keep a 10-and-a-half month old happily quiet while participating in a work conference call from home?

Answer: You don't. You can't. Don't even try. It's not worth it. All you end up with is a load of guilt and stress, an upset infant, a house in complete disarray from all the attempts to distract her with various toys and other objects, and absolutely no idea as to what was said on the conference call because you couldn't hear a damn thing (which was the fault of the people in the conference room for not speaking up even though they knew I was on the line. Baby Girl was actually not making a lot of noise until the very end).

First she wanted to play. And then she wanted to talk loudly. And then she wanted to wander out of hearing and speaking range of the speaker phone, and then she wanted to play, and then she was bored, and then she was hungry, and then she was full, and then she wanted down to play some more, and then she wanted in my lap, and then she wanted to play with the computer, and then the phone, and then the contents of my drawers. And then she wanted to walk some more. And that was all while she was happy. When she was done with all of that and it was clear she wanted out of the kitchen and wanted to be doing other things, she protested loudly.

And none of this is bad. She wasn't being bad. She wasn't doing anything wrong. She was being her usual good little girl self, happy and active and engaging and curious and chatty and loving and wanting nothing more than to interact with her Mommy. And since we were at home, and I was the only one there, she rightly assumed I was there for her. And I should have been.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when she fell (on carpet, hands first, no injury except to her pride) while she was trying to stand up, and she just lost it and started crying. I had to hang up on the call mid sentence while my boss was indirectly chastising me for something, and then I helped her up, and I hugged her, and we went into the living room to play which was what she wanted all along, and then I broke down in tears like a blithering idiot, because I shouldn't have had to have been on the call at all, I should have been able to focus all my attention on her, because I was at home and I was the only one at home and she's too young to understand that sometimes mommy needs to do work stuff from home and she shouldn't have to yet because when I'm home I should be home and not working. At least not while she's awake.

In the moment that I hung up from the conference call I felt this HUGE wave of resentment towards work. I hated it with all my being in that instance.

Yesterday I had told my boss that Tim was working tonight and as a result I would have to leave early to pick up Baby Girl and conference in from home. And then I ended up getting scheduled for another conference call at the end of the day that prevented me from leaving early, so I told him that I might not be able to conference in to his meeting afterall, and that I'd do my best. But his response made me feel like not conferencing in wasn't really an option for me and so I did, and it was a disaster because I could barely hear (even when Baby Girl was quiet) and as a result I wasn't getting any value from being conferenced in and I certainly wasn't contributing any value by being conferenced in since I had to keep myself on mute the entire time.

So I was letting down work. And I was also letting down my daughter. And I would have just been better off not conferencing in at all except for the fact that I would have been worried my boss would be thinking I'm not meeting my obligations or able to take care of my responsibilities if I didn't. But I could have lived better with that than the guilt of watching my little baby trying so hard to engage with me and play with me and talk to me and hold my hand and me not being able to respond in the way she wanted.

It's all so complicated. I used to think I could make it black and white. When I'm at work, I'm working. When I'm at home, I'm not working and I'm focused on my family. But it gets grey really fast. A few afternoons leaving early because of a doctor's appointment; a few sick days to stay home with a vomiting and feverish infant; a few more sick days to stay home vomiting and feverish myself, and all of that adds up to guilt about missing so much work, which results in having to log in and check email and do work in the evening after she's in bed. Which means I get to bed later than I want. And I'm no longer "balanced" when it comes to my non-work life. And then in addition to that there are these conference calls that fall in my off-limits time of 5pm - 6pm because that's when I'm picking up Baby Girl from Daycare, plus the 1:1s I have to conduct from home in the early morning and late night because my employees are in the UK and Korea respectively. And with all of that, the nice clear line delineating my home life and my work life starts to get really blurry really fast.

Sometimes it just really totally sucks to be a working mom. But I'm glad that at least I'm the kind of working mom that, when she gets resentful of being a working mom, is resentful of the work part and not the mom part. Whenever my two worlds have collided it's always work that I've blamed. Work that I've resented. Never Baby Girl. Never my mommyhood. So I guess that's a good thing. At least I have maintained the right priorities, even if conference calls like today's make me feel like I'm being a neglectful mommy.

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Mad New Mommy Skillz

I've perfected a couple of new skills this week

1) The Standing Diaper Change - by necessity while we were out at lunch in a restaurant that didn't have a changing table, and questionably clean floors, and me without her little changing pad. So we changed her standing up. Worked like a charm, although was a little challenging but no more so than when she's on a surface she can crawl away from, and no leaks later to boot!

2) The Conference Calling Mommy Walker - I had a conference call at 7pm this evening, but that's when Baby Girl likes to do her laps around the house. So there I was, on my call, with Baby Girl holding on to one hand, dragging me around the kitchen in circles and keeping up a running commentary all the while, while I held the phone up to my ear with the other hand and conducted my call until Tim got out of the bathroom to take over.

And on a completely separate note, here are some photos I finally managed to download from my camera (it's been a crazy few days what with the entire house being sick).

Here is Baby Girl on the soccer field at the park with her soccer ball! She thought the turf was pretty cool. It's a really nice field, I must say. And good for walking practice. Does a good job of cushioning falls while still being firm.

And here's Baby Girl at snack time this afternoon. She ran out of Cheerios the other day, so we went and bought her some new O's...

Elm-O's!! Is there any better kind? Baby Girl doesn't think so :-)

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A rare moment

We've passed the "48 hour" mark that the doctors said were most critical after a possible closed-head injury.

To mark the milestone Baby Girl decided to be put to bed awake again. It's kinda weird - this sudden shift to wanting to go to bed while awake, and refusing to fall asleep in our arms. I'm wondering if it is because she's finally big enough (in size) to not be comfortable anymore drifting off to dreamland while we're holding her. Or maybe she just wants the alone time. No idea. But I'll take it!

So after her bath tonight we suctioned her nose (always a good time), gave her a bottle which she barely consumed, and then after tossing and turning and fussing with us in the living room I carried her into her bedroom and laid her in her crib awake, said nite-nite, and left her room. Not a peep from her since. Well, except for the two times she partially woke up looking for her binky since I sat down to write this entry. Of course ;-)

That was at 8:45pm, when I put her to bed. It's 10:30 now. I watched an entire TV show uninterrupted, all by myself, from 9:00-10:00. Tim's got Baby Girl's upper resperatory infection, so he went to bed early. I have it too, and have been coughing up a storm, but I wasn't about to surrender a possible night of uninterrupted TV watching with no pressing chores competing for my attention, to a stupid cold. Of course, during the commercial breaks I felt compelled to clear and wipe the table, load the dishwasher, clean the kitchen counters, and put away her toys. But still, that was just the commercial breaks.

Not only did I watch an entire hour of uninterrupted trashy television (for those interested, i watched the repeat NBC premier of "Windfall". That was the best that was on, I'm afraid. But it met my trashy, mindless, criteria) but I also consumed a whole "Mike's Hard Lime" in the process. Uninterrupted. Aaaaaah. It was quite an evening, let me tell you.

Normally we go to "friday night" on, well, friday nights. But because of Baby Girl's nasty cough, coupled by the fact that I didn't want to interrupt her schedule anymore than it has been by two nasty falls in one week and a bad cold to boot, and add on the fact that both Tim and I have the crud now too, and we just weren't up for it this week. But I'm kinda glad, cause I don't get very many evenings like this one, and it was definitely on the list of things the doctor ordered (or should have been, had I actually seen one. Perhaps minus the beverage since I don't think that's on the list of things they typically recommend in any scenario). So here it is, not even 11pm on a friday night, house relatively tidy, dishwasher loaded, me not so much but definitely feeling a tad more relaxed and caring a lot less about the annoying cough, daughter and husband sound asleep, trashy tv watched. And time to spare before I should call it a night.

How luxurious is this?!

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New words to an old classic

sung to the tune of "Singin' in the rain":

Splashin' in the tub,
We're splashin' in the tub
What a glorious feeling,
To scrub-a-dub-dub.
Splashin' in the tub.

Yep, that's right, I made this one up all by myself ;-)

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Blanket statement

A telltale sign that I needed to get out of the house and spend the evening with other adults:

On saturday night Tim and I went to see the INXS concert. Jenn came over to babysit Baby Girl. It was an outdoor concert at a nearby park, and was general admission seating, so our plan was to stake out our territory with a blanket on the ground.

So as we were getting out of the car in the parking lot, I turned to Tim and said, in my high-pitched mommy voice, "Are you going to get the blankie?"

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A gift for mommy

Baby Girl and I went out to the back yard to pick flowers before dinner. I found this in my shoe after she went to bed.

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Shiver

I'm cold.

I just finished eating a third of a 1.65L container of chocolate ice cream.

I'm home from work today. I can't remember the last time I was in the house alone, when I wasn't also sick or working from home. Hmm. Now I wonder if I've ever been in this house alone when I wasn't also sick or working from home. I don't really want to know the answer to that.

Technically I still am sick. Throat still hurts like an sob whenever I swallow (except when it's cold, like ice cream, thank god) and I'm still coughing and flemmy. When I took time out to go to the doctor, she gave me a perscription for flonase; said I had a lot of post-nasal drip that was probably causing my sore throat. I took the prescription to the pharmacy to get it filled. That was Tuesday. I have yet to go pick up the medicine. So my throat still hurts.

On Wednesday we took my car in for service. Yesterday morning we picked it up. It required the three of us to leave the house around 7am. We ended up leaving at 7:30. I skipped breakfast. which means I also forgot to take my medication. The antidepressants I'm still on that I should be starting to wean off soon since it's been nine months. But which apparently I'm still somewhat in need of.

So here I am at home today. But not because I'm not feeling well. I took the day off because I wanted to get caught up on the 3 baskets of clean laundry that need folding and the two loads of baby laundry that need washing, and the clothes of my own that I desparately need to wash because I'm all out of clothes that fit.

And the reason I am behind on all this laundry is because it's just been me and Baby Girl in the mornings before work and in the evenings after work, along with Tommy and Ginger and Spice of course, but unfortunately I'm the only one of the bunch capable of grocery shopping, loading and unloading the dishwasher, cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, making formula and pouring bottles, changing dirty diapers, feeding, dressing, and bathing Baby Girl, and taking Tommy out to potty. Of course it's not like I tried training any of them to do that, but I suspect I'd be largely unsuccessful.

And Tim's not working this weekend, so after I got the laundry taken care of I wanted to clean the house so that we didn't have too many chores to get in the way of all 3 of us spending the whole weekend together doing something fun as a family, because it's been a while since we've done something together besides chores or sleeping or grocery shopping. And although grocery shopping used to count, it doesn't anymore.

But so far all I've managed to accomplish is consuming a third of a 1.65L of chocolate ice cream, sobbing uncontrollably like a baby, and writing this blog entry.

Tim and I had a pretty big fight last night. And in the process, I said something really really hurtful. I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth, and felt like the world's worst human being, let alone wife. but it was already out.

And now he's at work. Left at 6:30am. Won't be home until long after I am in bed. Like much of this week and last. So we won't be able to talk about it and reconcile any of it until tomorrow.

I miss him. Of course, after last night, he'd probably say I sure as hell have a funny way of showing it. The last week and a half has been really really really hard managing stuff without him here. But I do miss him. and I don't mean miss him just in the sense of miss having him here to help with stuff. I miss his presence. But then when I finally have his presence all I want to do is pile chores up on him, hand him over Baby Girl, and go take a bath and go to bed. Which doesn't result in us spending any more time together either.

We went on a date a couple of weeks ago. That was nice. It was our favourite restaurant, and it was totally wonderful, and Tim had arranged the whole thing including the friends who had come over to babysit for us. And it was incredibly romantic and sweet and badly needed. And I loved every minute of it. Except it was out in public. No, I'm not suggesting we go rent a hotel room for our next date. But it might be kinda nice to just hang out in our house, eat a dinner we cook together and clean up together, watch a movie in our jammies snuggled up on the couch together - something that makes us both laugh - and just enjoy each other's company, just the two of us. Alone. Just as I've never been in the house alone except when I've been sick or working from home, I've never been in the house alone with Tim except when I've been sick or working from home either.

Of course, as soon as I have such thoughts I'm overwhelmed with guilt that I could even conceive of being here in our house, our family's home, without the third member of our family: Baby Girl. Let alone look forward to it. I must be a horrible mother for wanting to spend time doing something that doesn't include her. I get so upset at the thought of such selfishness in me that I'll start to actually cry, and then I'll get this panicked feeling, like there will come a day when she's not going to want to spend every waking moment with me, and then I'll regret the 3 hours I spent in the house alone with Tim without her, because it could have been 3 more hours of our lives that I could have been spending with her. And then I picture her beautiful, bright, smiling, joyful little face, full of pure happiness at the sight of me when I pick her up at daycare at the end of the day, and all I want to do is run to daycare and take her in my arms and hold her and hug her and kiss her and tell her I love her forever, and never let her go. And then I feel guilty for wanting to do that instead of spending time alone with Tim, because I love him too and I want things to be back the way they were. But not "back the way they were" as meaning not having Baby Girl. Because I can't imagine my life without her. I've never felt such love as I've felt for her. And then that brings back all of the guilt because I also can't imagine my life without Tim, and I've never felt such love as I do for him. And is it possible to love two people so completely differently, but so equally as much? It must be. Because I do. But how is it possible to reconcile it all? Does it even need rconciliation? Can't it just be true, and can't I just feel it all at the same time? It just isn't that easy.

So here I am. all the best intentions for taking a "vacation" day today to tackle household chores, so we could spend the weekend as a family doing something fun and together. But the dishes are still piled next to the sink; the half-eaten banana from Baby Girl's breakfast is still lying on its plate on my desk; the highchair is still covered in remnants of cheerios and fruit; the counter still splattered with formula from when I poured her bottles this morning; the mess from last night's dinner is still on the table that is still needing to be wiped; the salad is still sitting out and is now wilted; the floor is littered with crumbs and dustbunnies needing to be swept away; the bed's unmade; the bathroom's a mess; Baby Girl's toys are still strewn around the house.

And the empty carton of chocolate ice cream is still sitting next to my keyboard.

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And finally, I leave you with this thought

because this is today's song:

A you're Adorable,
B you're so Beautiful,
C you're a Cutie full of Charms.

D means you're Darlin' and
E so Exciting and
F you're a Feather in my arms.

G you look Good to me,
H you're so Heavenly,
I you are the one I Idolize.

J we're like Jack 'n' Jill,
K you're so Kissable,
L is the Lovelight in your eyes.

How 'bout M, N, O, P? I could go on all day.
Q, R, S, T, alphabetically speaking, you're O.K.

U made my life complete,
V means you're Very sweet,
W, X, Y, Zed (or Zee)

It's fun to wander through
The alphabet with you
To tell you what you mean to me!

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And today, it's been

If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake,
Baked a cake, baked a cake.
If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake,
How'dya do, How'dya do, How'dya do!

If you'd dropped me a letter I'd have hired a band,
The grandest band, in the land!
If I knew you were coming I'd have hired a band
And spread the welcome mat for you.

Well I don't know where you came from,
Cause I don't know where you've been.
But it doesn't really matter,
Grab a chair and fill your platter,
And dig, dig, dig right in.

If I knew you were coming I'd have kept a pot
of choc-o-lot, nice and hot!
If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake,
How'dya do, How'dya do, How'dya do!

If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake,
Hired this band, for goodness sake!
If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake,
How'dya doodly-do-do-do!

The funny (or sad?) thing is that after I drop her off at daycare, I keep listening to the CD until I get to work. Hey - it's pretty happy, carefree music! Not a bad way to start your day. Especially when the alternatives are listening to the latest in politics, the war on terrorism, or some rock band singing songs I don't know all the words to. At least I can sing along with this!

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In my head

Down by the station
Early in the morning,
See the little puffer-bellies
All in a row.
See the station master
turn the little handle
Puff, Puff, Toot, Toot!
Off we go!

At least the "Sharon Lois and Bram's Greatest Hits" CD has 31 tracks. Unlike "We Are... The Laurie Berkner Band" which only had 5.

Now that I've shared it with you, maybe it will leave me alone. Or at least you'll have it stuck in your head too.

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"Nails are a little long"

That's the second time I've found this particular comment on Baby Girl's daily log when picking her up from daycare. I know it's meant well and with no tone intended, but I can't help but feel reprimanded. I'm usually pretty good about keeping her nails trimmed. But it tends to work best when Tim's home and I can clip them while she's sleeping in his arms after her last bottle of the evening. Clipping them when she's awake is just not an option; she's a constant little beehive of motion and activity.

We're heading into the "busy season" for Tim's work. He was away all weekend. Left Saturday morning at 5am and returned Sunday late evening around 9pm. Then headed out the door again today at 8am and just called to say he'll "probably be home before 1am".

While the extra money is not just nice but necessary, I find myself not just missing Tim of course, but missing our routine. It's hard enough taking care of a munchkin when there are two of you. It's really hard when there's just one. And Tim can attest to that too; I've had to make two business trips since she was born and one of them was for 8 days. So he gets what I'm saying here.

When we were in the "slow" season and Tim wasn't working full time, we had gotten into a nice little rhythm of shared house and munchkin duties. I would take care of cleaning the dining room and kitchen room and loading the dishes in the evening, He would make formula and pour bottles and empty the dishwasher during the day. I would fold laundry and put it away in the evening and he'd start a load the next day. I would stop at the grocery store on my way home from work/daycare and he would cook dinner. I would feed her breakfast, drop her off and pick her up from daycare, and together we'd play with her in the evenings. We'd sit at the table and eat dinner together. we would bathe her together cause it's easier with two and afterwards he would cuddle with her and give her the last bottle of the night and tuck her into bed. He'd be on baby monitor duty until 11pm so I could either go to bed early, or just veg and catch some down time, and then I'd be on monitor duty till morning. And then we'd do it all again the next day. But now that he's working so much I've been having to do the laundry, and the bottles, and the dishes, and the tidying, and the playing and cuddling and feeding and bathing andsnuggling and tucking into bed, and baby monitor duty, and by the end of it all I'm just plain pooped.I worked from home today just so I could catch up a little on chores when I would normally take a cafeteria or wander-the-floor break.

So her nails are a little long. And they probably will stay that way until tomorrow evening when Tim will be home to hold her while she's sleeping. She's not scratching or hurting herself (although it does hurt you if she grabs you hard ;-)) and she's sleeping peacefully right now (knock on wood) and I got my chores done and have a bit of relaxing time and selfish as it may be, I'm not about to risk disturbing all that so I can trim her nails tonight. They won't be that much longer tomorrow (although you'd be surprised at how quickly they do grow!) so I think we'll be ok.

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Not what I had planned, but I'll take it!

With Tim working today, and it being completely miserable out, I thought a trip to the Pacific Science Center would be a fun diversion for Baby Girl and me.

However Baby Girl, it appears, had other plans. After consuming 5oz at 7am, taking tommy out to potty with me, walking, crawling, and cruising up a storm, playing hard with all of her toys, having a couple of bites of cereal, and consuming another 8oz at 9:15am, she went down for a nap at 9:30 and has been asleep for an hour and a half. SOUNDLY. In her crib, no less, and not the bouncy chair.

So what did I do?

- Cleaned the kitchen
- loaded the dishwasher
- started a load of laundry
- tidied Baby Girl's room and our bedroom
- Straightened up the TV room that she had completely destroyed earlier this morning
- Wiped down the dining room table
- Vaccuumed the kitchen, laundry room, dining room, and our bedroom
- shook and hung our bedroom rugs out to air
- brushed my hair and teeth
- ate some yogurt
- wrote this entry

Not bad for an hour and a half. And to boot, I don't feel the need to nap because Baby Girl politely let me sleep in until around 6:45!

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Mommy Stories

Came across this link in a roundabout way and thought all you mommies and daddies and mommies-and-daddies-to-be out there might enjoy it:

http://www.literarymama.com

Ok - I'll tell you the roundabout way :-). We bought our property on which we are now living, in the house we had built and which was finished and we moved into a week after our daughter was born, from a married couple with a daughter of their own. The woman in the couple is a freelance author who writes for MSN and Encarta occasionally (I recognized her name when we were closing on the property), and apparently the author of a book (that I also want to buy and read) called "It Could Happen to You: Diary of a Pregnancy and Beyond". I wasn't aware she had written the book until I recently got my weekly babycenter.com "Your baby is 9 months and 2 weeks old, here's some stuff in our store you might want to check out" e-mail and saw it featured there. So I checked it out. And that's where I learned she has a web site and that she is on a book tour supporting the release of a friend's book, "Why Babies Do That: Baffling Baby Behaviour Explained" (which I also want to buy and read now) who also has a web site, and who is the editor of another book called "Toddler" which is a collection of first-person stories about parenting toddlers (and, yes, which I also now want to buy and read :-)), and the link to the exerpts of the book on her site, led me to LiteraryMama.com.

Anyway - so there you have it: 3 web sites and 3 books that you may find of interest. Warning though - some of the stories on LiteraryMama will get your emotions flowing ;-) But they're all well-written, and definitely worth reading ;-)

Enjoy!

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Take the homegrown Heather Mommy Quiz

Which stresses you out more when Baby is crying and fussing during dinner?

a) Choking down yet another meal without tasting it so I can get back to holding her hands so she can do laps around the house which is what she really wants

b) The mess!

c) The sounds of her crying and screaming

d) My inability to console her

e) None of the above because by then I've usually had at least 3 glasses of wine, so I'm pretty darn relaxed.

What is the strangest dream you've had about your baby?

a) I dreamed that she slept the entire night through without waking.

b) I dreamed she was all grown up and pregnant with a baby of her own

c) I dreamed that instead of college she decided to go "find herself" and we ended up having to bail her out of a jail in Thailand

d) Dreams? That would imply sleep. And I haven't had any of that in months!

e) I'm so sleep deprived I'm unable to distinguish my dreams from reality, so I really am not in a position to comment.

What is the oddest technique you've employed to get your baby to fall asleep?

a) Singing and rocking usually works. I haven't had to get weirder than that.

b) Given her a bath. That always puts her to sleep.

c) Taken her in the shower with me. That way we both get clean and she gets drowsy.

d) I've held her tummy down on my lap while bouncing my knee and patting her back

e) I've read her exerpts of People Magazine

f) I've paced the length of the house while singing 80's rock ballads to her

g) I've taken her for a drive around the neighbourhood, and the neighbouring neighbourhood, and basically the entire surrounding metropolitan area, at 11pm at night, because she almost always falls asleep in the car

What things have you've done that all the books say you shouldn't because you thought it might preserve your sanity?

a) Let her watch TV

b) Let her fall asleep on her tummy

c) Fed her solids before the age of 4 months because I heard it might help her sleep through the night

d) Put whisky in her bottle

e) Pulled a "Britney" (take your pick: left her unattended in a highchair; sat her on your lap while driving; you don't have to be specific. We don't want you to get arrested).

What is the longest that you've gone without bathing or showering since your precious one was born (sponge baths and splashing water on your face don't count):

a) I shower every day, no matter what, and have since the day she was born.

b) 1 day

c) 2 days

d) 3 days

e) I don't remember the last time I bathed or showered. Although that might explain why my significant other is sleeping on the couch these days.

what is the most number of times you've had to change clothes in the morning before heading out to work because of your munchkin?

a) I usually have to change my shirt at least once

b) I typically go through an entire outfit (especialy since we started solids)

c) Half my wardrobe on a daily basis

d) I only get dressed once, because I don't get out of my PJs until the last possible moment before I leave the house. Of course, I still end up arriving at work wrinkled or stained or both, because a lot can happen in the little time it takes to carry her to and from the car and drop her off at daycare.

If you could change any of the above, would you?

a) Nope!

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Mixed Nuts

Sometime in the next few months I have to figure out how to read The Velveteen Rabbit to Baby Girl without sobbing uncontrollably. Seriously. It's a problem for me.

It's been a day. One that ended with a 45 minute drive at 9:15pm to get Baby Girl to go to sleep. I guess the silver lining is that this is the first time we've ever had to pull that one out of our bag of tricks. I know people at work who have to do this on a regular basis.

We consoled ourselves by getting chocolate shakes on the way. "On the way". That makes it sound like we had an actual destination. Apart from our mission to get Baby Girl to sleep and fill our tummies full of chocolate goo. We didn't have a destination. And it only sorta worked. She fell asleep in the car. She stayed asleep as we got into the house. She slept for the first 10 minutes after putting her down in her crib, and now she's awake and crying and Tim's trying to console her.

Some portion of this newfound fussiness is due to frustration, we think. Frustration that she's not completely mobile and self sufficient yet. Her mind wants her to be but her little body hasn't quite caught up with all her big ideas yet. She knows where she wants to get to. She even knows methods of getting there. But she's picky. Crawling is still for babies. Walking is just not possible without assistance. And it's really annoying to have to rely on assistance. As I'm sure any adult who has had to do so can attest to. We've probably all been in that position even temporarily. So we can relate to her frustrations.

Some portion of it is due to teething, most certainly. She's got one tooth in now, and the rest are working their way to the surface. The amount of drool that emanates from her tiny mouth these days is absolutely incredible. It's a non-stop gush. Her clothes get soaked with it, as does anything or anyone who is within a 2 foot radius. And I'm sure the actual teething process doesn't feel really good, even ignoring the drool.

Baby Orajel (and the like) is out though. We tried it for the first time tonight thinking it might provide some relief. I read and re-read the instructions several times before administering it. I followed them exactly, actually dispensing less than a pea-sized amount on my immaculately clean finger and rubbing it into the affected area. It only seemed to make things worse. In hindsight I'm wondering if I got some on the tip of her tongue. That might explain her lack of ability to keep her binky in her mouth and her lack of desire to eat. I can't for the life of me figure out how one could administer orajel successfully to an extremely strong, mobile, frustrated and clearly discomforted baby. Especially one who at the best of times doesn't want to open her mouth and let you stick your finger in it, and who in the worst of times while struggling to cope with the annoying discomfort of it all would definitely rather be doing just about anything other than letting you poke around at her tender gums. How could you not end up getting some on her tongue, or having her accidentally swallow some or at minimum push it to the back of her throat with her tongue? We won't be using it again.

Some portion of it was due to a change in formula, quite possibly. She hasn't been having her usual 3 bowel movements a day since we made a switch to the "Next Step" stuff for 9-24 month olds, and so I think she's a little stopped up. We switched back to her regular formula and hopefully by tomorrow she'll be more regular too.

We recently stopped her Zantac dose as well, after consulting with her doctor at her 9 month checkup. although this fussiness is different than the fussiness she used to experience when she was having acid reflux pain. She isn't arching her back or throwing her head back. She's just being wiggly and fidgety and fussy. So I'm not convinced that any of this can be attributed to the lack of Zantac.

A small part of it may be due to the heat. It's been HOT the last several days. I certainly haven't felt like eating a lot, and am not sleeping as comfortably. I imagine it's the same for her.

And certainly part of it is due to the fact that she's clearly communicating to us on a regular basis and we're just not getting it a lot of the time. She's extremely verbal. She keeps a running commentary while she's running on her feet. And both are pretty fast. And it's more than just babble. There's intonation in her sounds. There are mixed consonants and vowels. There's pointing and waving. There's reaching. There's twisting. There's sudden stops and turns in direction. There's leaning towards things. There's shouting. But do you think we get it? Mostly not, apparently. Except I do think I know when she's calling Tommy. She mimicks the way we raise our voices when we're calling him. She even slaps her leg on occasion like we do. It's pretty amazing and totally adorable.

She's recently started "dancing" to her Laurie Berkner DVD. She loves watching them and she'll bend her knees and bob up and down on her little legs while holding my hands. It is the absolute cutest thing on earth!

And all of this new mobility and verbal diarrhea has me realizing that she's not my tiny little baby anymore. She's growing up. Every day. She's going to be moving on her own soon. She'll be slapping away our hands and any offers of our assistance. She'll be wanting to do everything herself. And she'll be wiggling her way out of my arms and running away from me to go make her own fun. And I'm not sure I'm ready for that. So I've been reduced to a sobbing, blithering, pathetic lump of mommyhood whenever I think about it. Which is almost all the time.

I'm on day 12 of my sore throat and coughing. Baby Girl is on day 17 or 18 or 19. I've lost count. I'm hoping it ends soon.

Baby Girl blew her first speaker today. Daddy was not amused. She's learned how to get over to the receiver on her own, and what's more - she's learned how to turn the volume dial. She does it while the TV is off, and although we've been teaching her "no" and "don't touch please" and she clearly understands it, she likes to touch it anyway, and this time I wasn't fast enough to move her away from it and distract her with something else. I didn't realize she had actually turned the volume up until we turned the TV on and the sound was REALLY LOUD. I turned it down immediately but not before we lost a speaker, apparently. Sigh.

We got our house professionally cleaned last friday - the one before mother's day. Tim arranged it. Our architect paid for it, in thanks for us hosting the home-of-the-month open house (thanks Rob!) so Tim scheduled it for the friday before mother's day so the house would be nice for Mother's day. Pretty sweet :-). And it was. Nice. Before Mother's day. But by the end of the day Sunday you'd never known it had been cleaned professionally just 2 1/2 days prior.

Going to bed with a dirty kitchen and dining room stresses me out and is just not an option. But not going to bed until 11 also stresses me out and although is really the only option given my distaste for leaving the mess until morning, is not an option that leaves me really happy. So Tim's been having to deal with that. And now that we're entering into spring and summer, he's pretty much working full time again, and late nights, and weekends. Which means we're both pooped at the end of the day and not either one of us terribly enthused about cleaning house but equally annoyed when it is a mess :-)

Yeah, it's been a day. A week. A month. Lots of stuff happening on all fronts. But also not a lot getting done. It's all about priorities though. And right now both of our priorities is not missing a single little discovery or accomplishment that munchkin achieves, and she's achieving them pretty much on an hourly basis.

So the house isn't tidy, and we're not getting tonnes of sleep, and we're a little stressed out. But I guess you could say we're still pretty happy because when all is said and done the important things are not being missed!

Still. I could use a massage.

And another shake.

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My Special Day

May 14th, 2006 - my first Mother's Day! And it was absolutely perfect in every way.

Baby Girl slept in until 7-ish this morning. And when I got her up and brought her out to have breakfast, I found a big beautiful bouquet of the most amazing flowers of every type and every colour. It is really spectacular. And next to the vase of flowers was a hardcover book. Beautifully and professionally bound. And when I opened it up, I started to cry. Tim had made me a book. Not just a photo album, but an actual book. Bound, glossy pages, like something you buy from a book store. But it wasn't anything you could ever find in a store. A book containing a hundred pages of pictures of our tiny munchkin, from before she was born all the way through to today. Beautiful pictures, with captions, and memories... I've read through it 3 times already :-). I was completely overwhelmed.

The emotional start to the day was followed by some waffles with warmed maple syrup and butter. Baby Girl really got into hers with her usual flourish for anything bready that she can tear apart with two hands.

Waffles were followed by a bottle, and a nap, and after the nap I decided that we needed to go bicycle accessory shopping so Baby Girl and I headed out to the mall while Daddy stayed home to clean up :-)

I ended up getting an infant seat for the bike, and a cool new helmet, and brought them home. Only to find, after about an hour of Tim futzing with it and my bike, that it just wasn't meant to go on a bike with rear compression brakes. So my dear husband, my hero, drove all over town (and then some) looking for a trailer to hitch on the back of the bike. And he found one! And set it up at home. So our afternoon consisted of this:

Followed by a special Mother's Day Dinner at Buca di Beppo's with Tim's Mom, Bob, his brother Mike and girlfriend Amanda, their little baby boy and our youngest cousin (2 months younger than Baby girl), cousin Shaun and Aunt Annette. Mother's Day at Beppo's has been our tradition for the last 6 years. Only this year I was a mom too :-) As you can see, it was quite festive :-)

All the rest of the pictures of our day are here. Check them out :-) It was my perfect first Mother's Day. Thank you Tim and Baby Girl. I love you both so much!

And a very happy Mother's Day to my Mom, and to Tim's, and to all of you other Moms out there reading this!

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Mommy musings

Orange ya glad I didn't say 'Banana'?

We started off this morning as we usually do, with a few cheerios and some banana cut into bite sized pieces (she's decided she doesn't absolutely have to eat it whole, thank goodness). I dole the banana bits out to her two at a time on her tray because if I give her more than that, she'll put a piece in her mouth, half chew it, spit it out, and then stuff the next piece into her mouth. It's like she's afraid they're going to vanish or something. But if I dish it out two at a time, she'll actually chew and swallow each piece. Thus it was in this manner, two pieces at a time, that Baby Girl managed to consume an entire half banana. I kid you not. An entire half banana (and a fair sized banana, it was too) ended up in Baby Girl's tummy. Not on her tray, or the floor, or smushed into the highchair cover, or in the little trough at the end of her bib. In her tummy.

Thus it came really as no surprise that she only consumed 2 oz of her normally 8 ounce bottle. And she wasn't hungry again until mid-morning.

Duck, duck, goose

We made our usual Saturday morning trip to Chicken Landing today to feed the ducks and geese. I cheated and brought an almost whole loaf of still-fresh bread. It's cause Baby Girl likes to eat it instead of throw it to the ducks. I'd rather she be eating fresh multigrain bread than stale stuff.

A little bit off the beaten path we saw a mama goose and her goslings. So we stopped to feed them first. Unfortunately (for mama) it wasn't long before the other ducks and geese in the area figured out we were there with free handouts, and gathered round to partake of the breadly feast. This stressed mama to no end, who spent the rest of the time with her neck bent in a weird sideways "S", snapping and hissing at anyone who got too close to her babies. Never mind that it was usually the babies who had wandered too close to one of the stranger ducks or geese :-). We left before poor mama could have a heart attack. Although I'm not sure I'd know a goose having a heart attack if I saw one. She might have been right in the midst of one already, for all we knew. Nonetheless, we decided we had stressed the poor mother goose out enough and we proceeded to our usual duck-and-goose-feeding spot.

Pint-sized

When we got home we spent the afternoon playing outside in the yard and the deck. With plenty of sunscreen and our sunhat of course. We even tried out our new little deck chair! As you can see, we like things that are just our size (almost; her feet don't touch the ground yet ;-). They make us feel all grown up! We have a second for when friends come over too :-).

Yes, that is a diaper in her hand. But don't worry, there's another one on her bum. She's got this thing about diapers now. About the only way I can get her to not fiddle with the one she's wearing and undo it while I'm changing her is to give her another one to hold.

On Mother's Day

It is the eve of Mother's Day. My first one as a mom! Excited? Yes. But I also feel like I've earned it! All you moms of grown children are scoffing. I can hear you. Give it another 18 years, you want to tell me. Or 25. Yeah, ok. But still. I know I've earned it!

Tim mentioned last weekend he was going to make me waffles for breakfast on Mother's Day. Yum! Waffles! I love my waffles. But he's been working all week and also some pretty late nights too, so when I went grocery shopping yesterday I went ahead and bought some waffle mix. To avoid what surely would have been a disappointment on many levels for us all if mommy wasn't going to be able to have her waffles for breakfast. Good thing too, cause the question I got today was "Did you buy waffle mix?" :-). I also bought strawberries and devonshire cream :-).

I've also been sick all week with the nastiest, ickiest chest cold. I've been coughing, actually hacking, up bits of olive green snot for the last 8 days. I'm taking cough medicine with codeine in it, but in order to actually be able to get to sleep with the pain and coughing that still ensues, I take a couple tylenol PM an hour or so later. I've also been working all week while I've been sick. Some from home and some in the office. Going into the office sucked. I was hacking and coughing and feeling like crap. Working at home sucked, because all I wanted to be doing was lying in bed. Friday afternoon my ass was finally kicked enough by this damn cold to make me go home at noon and stay in bed and not work. I slept for 4 hours straight. Woke up just in time to go out and do said grocery shopping and pick up the munchkin from school. Did I mention she's been sick all week too? Same cold. Guess where I got it. Only she's been handling it a bit better than me. Must be the naps she gets at school. And the lack of responsibility and deadlines :-)

With his long hours and late nights and me being home sick, I've also been on formula-making, bottle-pouring, and dishwasher-emptying duty. Only it's been taking me twice as long to do because every time I have to cough, which is about every 5 seconds, I have to back away and bury my face to avoid contaminating... everything... in the kitchen. It's a pretty violent cough.

Baby Girl's been sleeping through the night. On her tummy no less. But me, I've been waking myself up coughing. Ugh.

At any rate, I do believe, knock on wood, that we're both approaching the end of our colds. Which is good. Because the weather's nice and I want to be able to walk outside with Baby Girl without coughing up a lung.

So what insights have I gained in this last 9 months? All the sappy stuff, for sure. But the big major discovery for me was the attraction of the toilet as a place to catch up on reading and a little peace and quiet. I could never understand it before Baby Girl. You know - the stereotypical Dad who says he's going "to the library" and you see him with newspaper under the arm, beelining for the bathroom. I've figured it out. No one can deny you if you say you have to go to the bathroom. It's a personal and almost guaranteed right. And I never go unless I have to in reality; In other words, haven't gone so far as to lie about it... yet. But when I'm in there, whose to say how much time it needs to take me? And it's so peaceful and quiet. And I can't be disturbed. Because whose going to want to interrupt... well... that? Yes, there is a basket of trashy gossip magazines sitting beside our toilet. And yes, I've read them all. In there.

So what do I want for my first Mother's Day? It's pretty simple. Health. For all of my family and for me. that's all. Um... oh, uh. Ok. And maybe a nice long, hot bath; and a night without having to do the dishes, tidy the kitchen, make formula, or pour bottles. And I want to know why I've been mysteriously banished from the laundry room while Tim's been in there the last couple of weeks working on my Mother's day gift. And I guess I could do with a couple of new gossip magazines ;-)

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Give us a break already

Baby Girl's appetite seems to be returning. But with each feeding comes several hours of fussiness; we're going to try going back to the lactose-free version of her formula although she didn't seem to like the taste of it the first time around. Maybe this time hunger will win out. I just got her into bed (4:15am) after giving her her 2nd bath of the night (early morning, I guess). It was the only thing that would calm her down. This after getting back from yet another trip to the ER myself around 1:30am. This time I went for, um... matters that are just too personal to be discussed, even on this blog (let's just say it's best to drink colourless gatorade as opposed to the red stuff when one has diarrhea, to avoid unnecessary scares), but ended up getting admitted for dehydration (again, despite the fact I've been literally consuming liquids every second of the day but the more I drink the drier my mouth gets and the thirstier I feel) and potassium deficiency (which would explain my ever-increasing weakness and exhaustion). They gave me 4 more litres of fluids, potassium via IV, as well as via tablets (I guess I really was deficient) and released me several hours later with a prescription for potassium suppliments and a list of potassium-rich foods I should be consuming (even though all they're likely to do at this point is go right through me).

So when I got home I checked on Baby Girl and found her awake. So I figured I'd take the opportunity to feed her, even though she wasn't asking for any yet (just focusing on fighting dehydration in her too). After I fed her she had 2 diarrheas of her own, wanted more food (Tim took over so I could make a bathroom run), and then had another diarrhea. And that's when she became wide awake and REALLY fussy. Clearly in abdominal discomfort, and I think her eczema was irritating her (it flares up when she's sick, and even more so when she's dehydrated). After trying for a couple of hours to get her calm enough to sleep and being unsuccessful, I resorted to the bathtub. Which worked as I knew it would; calmed her right down, and she was asleep before I got her jammies on. I lathered her up with hydrocortisone cream on the rough red raw spots, and mustela cold cream (which goes on more gently than the Eucerin I've found, although it's also way more expensive) everywhere, got her into some 100% cotton PJs (best for eczema) and her baggie and popped her into bed with her teddy bear.

So what am I doing up? Well all of that took considerable energy and now I'm completely parched, and starving. So here I sit sipping half gator-ade (yellow this time, not red) half water through a bendy straw and munching on whole wheat toast with a tiny bit of strawberry jam to help it go down a little easier (plain whole wheat toast is pretty dry). And wide awake myself.

And now for some comic relief: As I was sitting in the cab on the ride home from the ER (I wanted Tim to stay home with Baby Girl rather than bundle her up to come get me in the wee hours of the morning) I heard what sounded to be like far-off coyotes. Tim had been talking about hearing them on his drives home at night, and even spotting a couple. As I peered out the window looking for movement I realized the sound wasn't coyotes. The sound wasn't coming from outside at all. It was coming from inside. Inside me. None other than my gut growling and howling and rumbling away. That's how loud and active it is right now.

Ok - gatorade and toast is done. Gonna make what I hope will be my final trip to the bathroom for the night...er... morning, and get some sleep. Here's hoping tomorrow's better for all of us.

And here's also hoping that Tim stays healthy; he's been the only one holding this all together.

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Night shift

Yet again, after we thought we had finally licked the vomiting (ew... sorry for that but I'm too tired to go back and change the words) it came back full force. She woke at 3am for her feeding, at which time she took 4oz of the new lactose-free formula (it having been 8 hours since the last vomiting episode) and a sip of pedialyte. I held her and rocked her for 20 minutes to let everything settle before gentling returning her to her bed.

She wasn't in bed 15 minutes before she was rocking and rolling and wiggling back and forth. Thinking she might be thirsty I picked her up and as I was carrying her out to the kitchen, up it all came again. And then some. Twice. And at the same time she had another diarrhea.

Tim cleaned up the floors and I cleaned up baby girl, and we went back to the pedialyte. She had 2 more diarrhea diapers before finally settling back down.

And why am I up at 5am if she's asleep? I decided to go back to the tsp-every-10-min approach. Maybe doling it out at even smaller amounts more frequently will help it stay down, or inside, or get absorbed better, or whatever. I don't know. I'm willing to try anything. So she's in her bouncy chair sleeping, and every 10 minutes I slide a medicine dropper with a tsp of pedialyte into her mouth and slowly squeeze it out drop by drop. We'll do this for an hour. She needs her sleep but right now she needs fluids more.

As I wait for the minutes to pass to her next teaspoon, I've been updating her 7 month photo album. You can find some cute pictures here that were taken earlier today (before the grey diarrhea and doctor's visit and vomiting) when she seemed to be on the mend.

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Mamamama Mia!

Yesterday and today on several occasions whenever Baby Girl has wanted something - ie to be picked up from the floor, or taken out of her jumperoo, or being let out of her booster seat, or wanting some comfort after triggering her gag reflex with some food that was a bit chunkier than normal (we were experimenting. I stopped as soon as the gag reflex kicked in), or wanting her diaper changed, she has been holding her hands up in the air and switching her "bwabababwabwababa" to "mamamamamamama".

can it be? Is her first word "mama"?!

She's still kinda young. Our pediatrician's documentation says that saying "mama" or "dada" appropriately typically begins between 9 and 12 months. Our "What to Expect the First Year" book says that at 7 months Baby "may even be able to" say "mama" or "dada" indiscriminately, but not appropriately. It too doesn't have baby saying "mama" or "dada" appropriately or discriminately until 9 months at the earliest.

I dunno, but her use of "mamamamamama" vs "bwabwabwababababa" seems pretty consistent and intentional. It could be wishful thinking on my part. All I really know for sure is that whenever I hear it my heart skips a beat, and I give Baby Girl the biggest smile, hug, and kiss humanly possible in return.

Hmm. So maybe I'm not the worst mom ever, afterall. :-)

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I am the worst mom ever.

I started out the day being a pretty good mom. I took Baby Girl to school a bit early so I would have time to sort through her bins and replace all her too-small clothes with right-size clothes (she grows so fast!). That's a good mom thing to do.

As I was sorting through her bins I found the valentine she made me and Tim at school. It had her little footprint on it in red, and glitter glued onto a piece of pink construction paper. It was absolutely adorable. We thought it had been lost while I was in barcelona because Tim never got it. So the teachers ended up having her make another (which hasn't yet been assembled so we don't have it yet) to replace it. So imagine my joy when I found it there in her bin!

I tucked it away in her bottle bag for safe keeping and then because I still had some time before I had to go to work, I mixed up a bowl of oatmeal with apples and mango and fed her her breakfast before leaving. That's a good mom thing to do too.

I went to the grocery store and stocked up on jar food and diapers for day care. A good, proactive mom thing to do.

I picked her up promptly at 5pm to take her home.

When I got home I discovered that one of the bottles had sprung a leak in her bottle bag and it was pretty soaked, so I decided to wash the whole thing. Also a good mom thing to do.

But I neglected to remove her valentine from the pocket before tossing it into the wash. When I was taking it out of the wash I noticed a couple of small red flecks of something but thought nothing of it.

In fact, I didn't realize what I had done until I went to retrieve the valentine so I could take a picture of it and post it here for Daddy, Grandmas and Grandpas to see and then a lightening bolt hit me when I realized I had tossed the whole thing in the washing machine.

Now all I have to show for our daughter's very first valentine to Mommy and Daddy is a soaking wet pink piece of paper all waded up and stuck together.

I tried to console myself with the fact that a second one is in the works because we though this one was lost anyway, but it didn't work.

I suck.

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I have a mommy purse

I remember as a child Mom's getting ever bigger in size, year after year, and crammed with all kinds of stuff you wouldn't normally expect to find in a purse. By the time I hit my teens I think she had hit "carry-on luggage" size.

I remember as a teenager hanging out at the mall and watching all those "old" women shopping with these huge bags. I swore I'd never carry a purse like that. So un-cool.

I bought myself a new purse before I went to Barcelona. I just finished cleaning it out this afternoon while waiting for the percocet the doctor gave me for my neck and back to kick in. I am one of those bag ladies now. What did I find in addition to my wallet and cell phone?

- a diaper (unused ;-))
- a bib
- a plastic ziploc baggy
- a couple of random baby toys
- two extra hair ties
- a tube of Eucerin lotion
- a small bottle of water
- some single-serving formula packets
- a hair brush
- a travel pack of kleenex
- a toothbrush and travel size tube of toothpaste
- a crumpled babies-r-us receipt
- chapstick
- tylenol
- my migraine meds
- a half-eaten energy bar
- my address book
- my "lucky" US dollar coin - the first gift Tim ever gave me :-) I gave him a loonie in exchange ;-)
- my passport holder filled with receipts from my trip
- my notebook from work with notes from all my meetings
- a couple of pens (caps ON! Thank goodness. I am notorious for leaving them off and creating ink stains on the insides of my bags, clothing, etc ;-)
- my cell phone bill (so I can expense it at work)
- a small travel-size bottle of purell hand sanitizer
- some used baby face-wipes for hand and face cleaning on-the-go
- two pieces of note paper with Baby Girl's scribbles on it (we held her hand while she held the pen. She saw me writing a list one day and thought it looked like fun so I let her try with my help. Tim then stuffed it into my purse before I left for Barcelona and I discovered them on the plane :-))

A perfect blend of work and home life all happily co-mingling inside my purse. My purse is an accurate reflection of my life.

What did I have in it before? Doesn't matter. It was quite dull by comparison ;-)

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Yummy for my tummy!

So curiosity got the better of me and lately I've been tasting Baby Girl's jar foods just to see what they're like. And you know - they're darn yummy. Pretty much everything on the list, I've tried:sweet potato, the squashes, carrots, fruits. And while I wouldn't make a meal of them, they are pretty refreshing! I mean, the ingredients are pretty straight forward: organic [insert veggie or fruit name here] and water. Fresh, clean, pure taste of organic fruits and veggies and nothing else. Almost as if I had picked 'em and pureed them myself.

Mmm mmm good ;-)

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So much for no more sick days

I stayed home from work today. I didn't want to; trying to save up the sick days for when I need to use them for Baby Girl. But I barely got any sleep last night with Baby Girl waking frequently unable to breathe through her nose. We suctioned out her nose twice more during the night. Icky stuff came out. I'll spare you the description.

So this morning I was completely wrecked. So was Tim since the suctioning is a 2-person job requiring me to wake him, and he had to leave the house at 4am to get ready for the Fred Hutchison luncheon that they were doing sound for.

But my lack of sleep combined with the cold that I caught from Baby Girl and have been in denial about for the past 4 days really did a number on me.

Baby Girl was fine. She was sparkly and bubbly as she usually is in the morning, if a little snotty and red-eyed. So I did what I've been criticizing all the other infant moms at our day care for. I took her to day care anyway. She's fine during the day. Snotty but fine. And I really really really really really (really really) needed some rest. I was almost falling asleep this morning feeding her her bottle, and after dropping her off at day care I caught myself actually closing my eyes while I was driving. Not cool. Very scary.

So I came home, got back into my PJs and hit the sack and slept for 6 hours straight without waking. I haven't done that in many many many many many (many many) months. Felt quite a lot better after it too, if a little sleep-drunk, and still snotty. But energy levels were up. Which is good because the house was trashed and needed some TLC. It got some C. I can't say that I was T or L about it. But it got tidied :-)

Bottles are made for tomorrow, Baby Girl has clean clothes to wear tomorrow, and Baby Girl has been bathed, fed and is in her crib sleeping (knock on wood). I think it's time for me to head that way too.

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Magic Words

I went back to work today, after being home sick all last week. Truth be told, it was really probably the first real day of work I've had, given that when I went back after my leave it was december, the building was all but deserted for the holidays, I spent one of those weeks home with a sick baby, and another week and a half out for the holidays myself.

It was a busy day - I was in meetings pretty much all day, except for the lunch break I took to visit Baby Girl at daycare. My last meeting was from 4:30 - 5:00pm in my office. Under normal circumstances, it would have been one of those meetings that went overtime; lots of discussion, action items, open questions... you know the type. But at promptly 5:03pm I put an end to it with the words "Ok folks. We'll have to finish this later. I have to pick up my daughter at daycare".

I have to pick up my daughter at daycare. I think I might have been smiling as I said it. With those 9 little words my office emptied faster than if I had yelled fire. But it was respectfully. Congenially. And I'm sure we'll close on those open questions and action items and discussions tomorrow :-)

But nothing trumps going to pick up my daughter. I love my group :-)

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Anal ogies

Why is the temptation, when describing baby poops, to compare its texture and colour is made to some kind of food product...

"Seedy and mustardy in texture and colour"
"Thick and green like creamed spinach"
"Brownish yellow and thick with a peanut butter consistency"
"Watery and pale like runny scrambled eggs made with a lot of milk"

It's in books, I've heard medical professionals do it, and I myself even find it sort of natural to use food as a comparison. I guess because food comes in such a wide variety of textures and colours.

And... what goes in must come out.

But still... ooogy!

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Hi Ho, Hi ho... it's back to work I go...

Today is officially my last day of "freedom". Freedom from work, anyway! Before I go any further I do want to say that I do enjoy my job. It's very interesting and challenging and the people rock. And I always say, if you have to work, it's nice if you enjoy what you do. And if you don't have to work, then you should do what you enjoy.

Anyway... tomorrow it's back to the grind. To be honest I did entertain the thought of taking a couple of sick days and starting on Monday... after all, Baby Girl is just getting over an ear infection, and she's still a little congested, etc. etc. But that would just be putting off the inevitable. And it's kinda nice going back to work with a weekend starting in just two days, as opposed to having to work a full week. It'll give me time to catch up on stuff, and get organized, and get used to being apart from Baby Girl for a whole day. So - tomorrow it is.

Unless we win the big lottery :-)

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IronMommy?

A couple of days ago we traded in our normal diaper bag for a nice backpack style bag. My thought was that if I'm going to start taking her walking in the Baby Bjorn instead of the stroller, I'd rather have a backpack instead of a shoulder bag.

Well yesterday we put that theory to the test. I felt like I was training for the mommy equivalent of the ironman competition. 13+ lbs of baby strapped on my front; 6.5 lbs of baby accessories strapped on my back (Ok - the diaper bag might have been a tad overpacked but not by much - 4 diapers, a changing pad, a portable container of wipes, a burp cloth, a change of clothes, an extra bib, 2 toys, a bottle, a container of formula (enough for one bottle), and an 8oz bottle of water to mix with the formula).

We managed to do about 1.5 miles yesterday (with that much weight on me, I just couldn't go further. My back was killing me by the end) and this time we brought our own bread for feeding the ducks. Baby Girl really seemed to enjoy that!

The paradox is this: If I want to walk really far, I need to be prepared to make a pitstop for feeding and/or diapering along the way. Hence I need to take the backpack. But if I bring the backpack, I can't walk as far.

Sigh!

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Trashed

The house is trashed.

Three rooms sit buried in pillows: The TV room, the living room, the bedroom.

The kitchen is wasted. Bottles need washing, the high chair needs to be put away. So does her car seat. And her diaper bag. Not to mention the regular dishes that need to be done.

Don't get me started on the laundry sitting in piles on the laundry room floor.

Yet here I sit. At the computer. Blogging. Instead of cleaning. I just can't get to it.

So tired.

But happy. Except for the house needing cleaning.

I could do with a Mary Poppins. Except I would want her to just clean our house with her magic songs and dances, so I could play with Baby Girl all day.

It's what I've been doing anyway. Which is why the house is trashed!

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Anatomy Lesson

Today was a busy day. We started with BabyRobics - this time Baby Girl managed to stay awake for almost all of the class! She started out asleep (as the car trip will do to her) but promptly woke after the warm up and stayed awake and alert through the rest of the class (can't say I'm surprised - we do a lot of bouncing). She continues to be mesmerized by the ceiling fans. We probably should have installed one in the house somewhere (Gee Rob, why didn't you think of that? Kidding ;-)). Heh. But she also took great interest in the instructor again as well (probably because she had a microphone). At any rate, she thoroughly enjoyed herself. We made it through almost the entire class in the Baby Bjorn and then I took her out for the last bit so she could stretch and move a little more freely.

After class we headed back home where we met up with Debra and little Miss E, who is almost exactly a year older than Baby Girl. The house was mostly toddler proof, although Miss E did manage to locate the one kitchen cupboard we hadn't managed to secure yet. She was getting ready to make a caprese salad with the balsamic vinegar and olive oil when she was stopped by her Mom :-) We found her another drawer that was safe to play in :-) It's a lot of fun to see what's in store for us in about a year!

Baby Girl also had a good lesson in anatomy today too, with Miss E as instructor. It went something like this, with Baby Girl sitting in her bouncy chair, mostly pretty much giving herself over to the whole experience:

E: [stroking Baby Girl's hair]
D: Yes, that's Baby's hair. Gentle.
D: Where is Baby's nose?
E: [sticking finger up Baby Girl's nose]
D: Yes, that's Baby's nose (gently pulling Miss E's hand away :-))
H: Where are Baby's toes?
E: [grabbing onto Baby Girl's toes and lifting her foot off the bouncy chair]
D: Yes, those are Baby's toes. Be gentle.

Baby Girl didn't mind. I wish I had a camera handy. Because I would have loved to pull the pictures out when they are 15 and 16 :-)

The only time she furrowed her brow was when Miss E was "rocking" her in her bouncy chair. It was pretty funny. She had a look on her face as if to say "Hey.... what's going on here? Who's rocking my world?"

I can't wait until they are both old enough to play together! Friday Nights will change yet again, I'm sure! I think I read somewhere that babies/toddlers don't actually play with each other until something like 2 or 3 - that they will play next to each other at an earlier age, but they're each pretty much doing their own thing, even if they are completely aware of the other. I don't know if I remember that correctly. At any rate, we've got a ways to go before that happens.

All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining afternoon!

Baby Girl is still fussing a bit after each feeding, as if she may still be in pain. I think it will take a couple of days for the new dose of Zantac to really kick in. The rice-thickened formula causes her to eat more slowly, which isn't a bad thing. She hasn't choked or gasped on the new formula, although she has fallen asleep eating a couple of times. It must be all that hard work ;-). She's still spitting up though - so not sure what's going on there. Too soon to say if it's any more or less or the same as on the old formula. We have a doctor's appointment on Friday, for her 2 month visit (she'll be 9 weeks tomorrow!) so we'll ask about the spit-up, and dosage, and whether we need to change nipple sizes on the bottles... oh, and about the poop. It's changed. But I'll spare you the details, and save it for the doctor's visit ;-)

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Snugglers

Today Baby Girl and I went to our first "Snugglers" group at the hospital where she was born. It's a free group for 0-3 month olds that meets once a week. We thought we'd give it a try.

I guess every week they have a different topic, and leave it to me to start attending on the day they decide to cover "infant feeding". I was the only woman in the room NOT breastfeeding. But I have to give the facilitator kudos. The topic came up about women breastfeeding in public, and everyone was going on about how people just need to deal (which I agree with; if you don't want to see it, don't look). At one point though, the facilitator spoke up and said she had a mom in another group who was bottle-feeding in public, and was assailed by some holier-than-thou-breast-feeding-nazi who told her she wasn't a good mom, and why wasn't she breast feeding, and didn't she love her baby, etc. etc. And then the facilitator looked around the room at each of the moms and said "Every woman has a right to choose. And sometimes they don't have a choice. Whatever the reason, please PLEASE don't judge or take that kind of attitude with anyone who is formula feeding".

On a separate note... our little Baby Girl did marvelously!

[WARNING - PROUD MOM BRAGGING COMING UP]

She was awake almost the entire time, and very alert. She sat on the floor between my legs and held onto my fingers and watched and listened to everything. She even spoke up a couple of times! She got a bit fussy once due to the acid reflux (we just increased her dosage and switched to a rice-thickened version of our formula on the doctor's recommendation) but calmed down quickly after a bit of rocking and went on to listen intently. When she got bored with the group, she played with her toes. I changed her on the floor as the group was discussing some topic or another, and not a peep out of her - just grins and big eyes. And then I fed her, and she fussed a bit afterwards, had a little cat nap, and then woke up bright eyed, alert, and full of more smiles!

As we were walking into the parking garage after class, a woman behind us peeked in the stroller and said with a confident smile "Oh! What an adorable baby! 3 or 4 months old, I'm guessing". To which I proudly responded "Nope! 8 1/2 weeks". To which she replied with a shocked "Oh! Wow. [pause] she's, really very alert!" as Baby Girl gazed steadily into her eyes with that quiet but very aware stare that she has.

That's our Baby Girl!

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Preparation anxiety

While we are still quite a ways away from December 1st (oh, humour me, will you?) November is just around the corner, which is when we are enrolled to start Day Care. Even though I'm not going back to work until December, Tim and I knew that it would be hard on all 3 of us if we didn't ease into the whole separation thing. So although the day care center's policy is that children under 2 are not eligible for "part time" tuition (ie, we need to pay the full tuition even if we're not having her in there 5 days a week, or even if we're only keeping her in for a half day or less) we'll be bringing Baby Girl to day care part time starting in November.

The first couple of visits I'm planning will only be a couple of hours, and I will be there with her. Then we'll try a couple of hours without me there, and then a half day... and towards the end of november we'll try a couple of full days. I will try and deal with the separation by spending the couple of hours at the gym working up a sweat as well as my heart rate. I doubt it will prove to be an effective distraction, but it's bound to help a bit.

Of course, in December when we start in for real, when Tim's not working Baby Girl will be at home with him while I'm at work.

Anyway, all of this is leading up to tell you that today Baby Girl and I stopped by her day care for the first time together. We stayed for about 20 minutes and hung out in the infant room. There were 6 other babies there. Most of them were between 8 and 11 months. Baby Girl will be the youngest in her "class". There is one other baby there under 8 months, a boy, who is just 1 month older than Baby Girl.

Yes, dear friends and family, Tim actually stopped what he was doing and raised an eyebrow when I told him there was a baby boy just a month older than Baby Girl in her room at the day care. Oh Baby Girl, I don't envy you asking us for permission to go out on your first date! It will be an emotional time for all of us. Although Tim says it will be made easier by the fact that she'll be 30 and not living at home when it happens. ;-)

So this evening I'm going through the Parent's Handbook and filling out all the required forms... and trying not to get ahead of myself by getting emotional about it. Once I'm done, that's it - no more thinking about it until we have to :-)

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The origin of the word "binky"

Sarah's last comment got me wondering... where does the word "binky" come from? In actual fact, I don't believe I ever called it a binky when I was little. Truth to tell, I'm not sure I used one (Dad?). I know I sucked my thumb all the time. And apparently I called water "bashoo" and my favourite blanket was "bidle". Which always accompanied the thumb sucking. In fact, I had a favourite "corner" of the blanket, which was the corner I held while sucking my thumb. Sometimes I would "lose" the corner and get upset and Mom or Dad would have to find it for me (which they almost always could, since it was usually the wrinkled corner that was damp from my saliva). And I used to refer to breakfast as "brickfast" because when I got up in the morning and left my room to go eat, the first thing I would see is the brick wall outside my room. And waitresses were "white-dresses" because they almost always wore white dresses as uniforms. But I digress.

So - a quick internet search revealed that "binky" is actually a trademark of Playtex -the makers of many things baby, including pacifiers.

However that doesn't really answer the question... did Playtex trademark "binky" in a flash of insight to capitalize on the fact that just about everyone uses the word to refer to pacifiers, or did they really invent the word themselves? Whose to say. If anyone has a definitive origin for the word, let me know.

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Stranded...

This morning at 9:00am I started getting myself and Baby Girl ready for our day, which was to consist of my 8 week postpartum check up with my doctor at 11:00, followed by a trip to the drug store for some bubble bath for Mommy and Aveeno Baby wash for Baby Girl, followed by a nice long walk. at 10:30 precisely we were ready to leave - tummies full, faces washed, teeth brushed (mine), diaper bag packed (hers), dressed, and Baby Girl was strapped in her car seat ready to go.

So, with purse on my back, diaper bag on my shoulder, keys in one hand, and Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, I headed out our side door to the car.

I got to the car and pushed the unlock button on the key. Nothing happened. I pushed it again. Nothing happened. I pushed it twice fast. Nothing happened. I looked in the car - the little blinking lights by the locks indicating the car was locked and alarm activated was not blinking.

So with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, keys in one hand, and Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, I trotted back to the side door. Oh, but wait. I don't have a key for the side door. Damn it.

So with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, keys in one hand, and Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, I trotted around to the front door, ducked under the massive spider web (with massive spider in the center), set Baby Girl down, and unlocked the door. Maybe my key wasn't working. That's ok. I had a second.

I closed and locked the front door, picked up Baby Girl, and with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, keys in one hand, and Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, I went back into the kitchen and picked up the spare car key.

And with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, keys to the house in one hand, Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, and spare car key in mouth, I headed out through the side door back up to the car and pushed the unlock button on the spare key. Nothing happened. I pushed it again. Nothing happened. I pushed it twice fast. Nothing happened.

So with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, house keys in one hand, Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, and spare car key in mouth, I trotted around to the front door, ducked under the massive spider web (with massive spider in the center) again, set Baby Girl down again, and unlocked the door.

I closed and locked the front door, picked up Baby Girl, and with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, keys in one hand, and Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, I went back into the kitchen. "No problem. I'll just call a cab, and deal with the car when I get home" I thought to myself. But then it hit me. I can't take a cab. There's no where for Baby Girl to sit. I'm stuck. So I set Baby Girl down, and the keys, and the purse, and the diaper bag, and called the doctor's office to reschedule the appointment. "My car is completely dead" I told them. "No problem" they said. They would have someone call me to reschedule. I like my doctor's office. While I was talking with them I unstrapped Baby Girl and extracted her from her car seat.

Then I called the Audi Service department and explained what was happening. They put my usual service dude on the phone. "Have you tried unlocking the car by putting the key in the door?". D'oh. Right. I could try the old fashioned way. Chalk it up to a case of 'Mommy Brain'. I thanked him and said I'd give it a try.

Then I called the doctor's office and told them not to cancel just yet. I may still be able to get there.

Then I got Baby Girl back into her car seat and strapped in securely.

then with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, house keys in one hand, Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, and spare car key in mouth (just in case), I went BACK out the side door to the car.

I set Baby Girl down, and put the key in the lock. It unlocked. Progress. I pushed the unlock button on the inside of the car door, to unlock the rest of the doors. No deal. Damn it. I put the key in the ignition and turned. Nothing. Not a peep. Damn it. The car was dead. Not sure why - the lights were all off. Nothing was left on that would drain it. Of course, the car was overdue for servicing (we'd been postponing it until we had a chance to get the 2nd car seat base installed in Tim's car) so perhaps it just went dead of its own accord because it was done.

So I closed the car door, locked it, picked up Baby Girl and with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, house keys in one hand, Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, and spare car key in mouth, I trotted around to the front door, ducked under the massive spider web (with massive spider in the center) again, set Baby Girl down again, and unlocked the door.

I locked the door, picked up Baby Girl, and with purse on back, diaper bag on shoulder, house keys in one hand, Baby Girl in her carrier in the other, and spare car key in mouth, I shuffled back down to the kitchen.

I called the doctor's office and told them to cancel my doctor's appointment. For real. and to call back to reschedule. I called the audi service department and told them the car was completely dead. For real. and I needed it towed to them for servicing (might as well get the service that was overdue). They gave me a phone number of a towing company, which I called to arrange the tow, and then called Audi back to schedule the service. (Because for some reason the "receptionist" couldn't have done that with my first call).

I extracted Baby Girl from her car seat, and we headed into the living room to play. No reason to let a dumb ol' dead car get in the way of our play time!

We could rent me a car while mine is getting serviced. But even if we do I still can't go anywhere with Baby Girl without a way of securing her car seat. Technically her car seat can be secured with seatbelts without the base, but it looks to be a fairly complicated process and not one that I relish doing whenever I have to put her in the car. And even when we get the base installed in Tim's car (which I hope we can do tomorrow - although I won't feel good about it until it is officially inspected) I still won't be able to drive anywhere with Baby Girl on my own, because Tim's car is a standard transmission and I never learned how to drive one.

So here I sit, waiting for the tow truck to arrive. My back, neck, and shoulders are a little sore. Wonder why. Tim left for work around 4:45am this morning and won't be home until about 11pm tonight. Baby Girl is asleep in her bouncy chair, oblivious to the fact that we're basically stranded here for the day. Doesn't really affect her - she's happy where ever she is as long as there is Mommy or Daddy, Food, and clean diapers :-)

Happy Monday! Hope yours is better than mine!

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I've still got it!

This morning Baby Girl continued her toe discovery, followed by another practice round of "creeping" (where she lies on her tummy and propels herself forward by pushing off my hands). She's getting quite good at both, but I was especially impressed by the latter. She made it from one end of the blanket to the other. Twice. With a lot of grunting and groaning and, by the end of the second time, "ACK!"s of frustration, after which I promptly picked her up and cuddled her and showered her with "Good Girl"s and "Mommy is SO proud of you!"s and and "What a big girl you are"s. No sooner though, had I uttered the first "Good Girl", then she was fast asleep in my arms. All of that creeping just plain wore her out. We had a cat nap on the floor together to recover, and I put her in her crib, at which point of course she woke right up, but was content to hang in there for a while waving her arms and talking to her mobile critters.

At that point, it became MOMMY time, and I headed out for an afternoon of working out at the gym, followed by a hair appointment while Baby Girl enjoyed some Daddy Time.

I did 30 minutes on the elliptical thingie - burned 400+ calories according to the display, followed by a set on the Gravitron (my FAVOURITE machine), 50 crunches on the crunch machine, 30 back pushes on the back machine, and 30 leg squeezes on the thigh machine, and 10 minutes of stretching. followed by a shower (which at one point used to be luxurious but now that we're in our new house, I much prefer our shower at home) and 5 minutes in the sauna. Feeling pretty good at this point - it's been a LONG time since I did anything like that. I stopped doing intense cardio when we decided to start trying to conceive - switching to walking and swimming instead. And continued that routine during my pregnancy. So it was a nice little jolt to the body to get the heartrate up really high today - I think it quite enjoyed it! I certainly feel re-energized.

When I got home, we had a nice dinner of roasted chicken and salad while Baby Girl sat in her high chair at the table (for the WHOLE meal!) and we rounded out the evening by introducing Baby Girl to Great Big Sea which she quite enjoyed! (pictures coming). She was full of smiles during all the fast songs. We bopped in her high chair, and then danced around the kitchen.

Finally, to top it all off, the deer showed up to graze, so we all stood watching them for a while.

It doesn't get any better than this, I'm tellin' ya.

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Mommy Multitasking

Many a time have I been holding Baby Girl in one hand and checking email with the other.

BUT - right now I am holding a sleeping Baby Girl and typing a blog entry WITH BOTH HANDS!

How, you may be asking, am I achieving such a seemingly impossible task? With the magic of our BabyBjorn carrier.

I have slowly been trying to get Baby Girl used to the carrier so that we can start using it for walks and for the "BabyRobics" class offered by the gym I belong to. She started off hating it, and slowly has started to be able to tolerate being in it for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, eventually 15 minutes at a time. I'll put her in it and take Tommy out to potty. But today - today we achieved a major breakthrough. Today I put her in it and not only did she STOP the fussing she had been doing prior, but she actually fell asleep as soon as I stepped outside.

And in this state she remains. At least for 10 more minutes. Because at 12:30pm, I, Mommy, am going to my gym for a workout, and then I'm going to get my hair done while Daddy watches Baby Girl! Ohhhhh.... I can hardly wait! There is almost nothing I like more than a good scalp massage.

Pictures of us BabyBjorning it coming soon.

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These are a few of my favourite things....

As a new Mom, I've found I've come to appreciate, and in some cases, depend, on an eclectic mix of things to make life a little easier and I thought I'd take a moment to share. These are by no means "essentials" - we'd get by fine without them - but they do make life a little more enjoyable :-). In no particular order, here they are:

Fred Meyer - there's NOTHING like one-stop-shopping with an infant in tow! And they've started carrying some organic products (although my favourite place to shop is still Larry's Market; but for picking up milk or baby stuff, it's so convenient!)

Bibs with velcro closures on the side (not the back) - With her acid reflux, Baby Girl goes through a lot of bibs in a day. And when she's fallen asleep and we want to put her down to nap, or when she's saturated a bib and we want to change it out while she's sleeping, having to reach around to the back of her neck to undo the bib without waking her is near impossible, especially when there's only one of us at home at the time :-) The bibs with the side closures are great!

Aveeno Baby Essential Moisture Bath - we tried the Gerber Grins N Giggles brand but it dried out her skin. I love the Aveeno adult products so much - I used them when I was pregnant to avoid drying out my skin - that we tried out the Baby line, and love it. It's really helped keep Baby Girl's eczema under control, and her skin is no longer dry after a bath.

KEXP - and in particular, their web stream at www.kexp.org - We spend hours a day dancing to the music on KEXP - I keep the streaming broadcast running on my computer all day, and a push of the volume button on my keyboard turns it up so we can dance. Baby Girl LOVES to dance, and it is a sure-fire way to calm her down. I love that I can hear it on my computer in the kitchen, and I love that I can expose her to all the different types of music and rhythms and sounds vs just one type of music on your regular radio stations. And she loves it too!

The "Soundscapes" satellite music station on our DirecTV subscription - It's an instrumental station with lots of piano, harp, new-agish, and celtic-enya-ish type of music. But it is guaranteed to put her to sleep in her bouncy-chair which is why I love it :-). And i've been known to snooze to it too, while she's napping!

Ikea Finger Puppets - we bought these on our recent trip to IKEA - completely on a whim and I thought it'd be more for my amusement than hers at this age. But the other day when Baby Girl was fussing and none of her other toys were amusing her (and my arm needed a break from dancing) I slipped these colourful little critters on my fingers, and wiggled them in front of her face and proceeded to put on a whole "show" (storyline, plot, voices, and all) and she was enthralled and smiling!

Fisher-Price Kick-N-Play Bouncer - oh man, I don't know what I'd do without this gem. We put her in it after eating because it keeps her at a comfortable incline and helps keep the stomach acid down; the vibration setting puts her to sleep; the lights and sounds on the detachable bar keep her entertained. We recently started using the "kick and play" setting on the bar (vs the continuous lights and music setting we were using before) so that it flashes lights and makes noises whenever she kicks hard enough and she loves it - the lights and sounds make her kick even harder, and she really gets going sometimes!

Clothing that snaps(not zips, not buttons) in the front or side (not the back). It's hard enough to get her dressed without fussing, but if I have to fiddle with snaps in the back, or buttons and button holes, it's near impossible. I've also found that while zipper pjs are pretty easy to deal with from a mom perspective, Baby Girl HATES to be naked, and unfortunately in order to change her diaper I have to unzip her all the way from head to toe vs just unsnap the bottom half of the pjs. The HALO sleepsacks however, do zip up from head to toe and unzip from toe to head - which allows me to just unzip the bottom half to get at the diaper. In addition having the zipper zip up from head to toe vs toe to head means that she'll have a harder time unzipping herself once she figures out how to use her hands :-)

Child View Car Mirror - This is a mirror that mounts on the headrest on the back seat so that I can see Baby Girl's face in my rear-view mirror, even though she's sitting in a rear-facing car seat. it's just reassuring to be able to glance at her to check her while I'm driving.

Pacifiers (aka her "Binky")- actually - we have 6 of 'em. I highly recommend having several ;-) As we learned in our newborn prep classes that babies suck for comfort, not just for nourishment. and since she's still working on discovering her thumb (getting closer every day) the pacifier gives her the comfort she's looking for without overfeeding her or causing her to take in air. When it falls out of her mouth while she's sleeping it's a signal to us that she's completely out ;-)

BebeSounds Angelcare Movement Sensor with Sound Monitor - I actually get MORE and better quality sleep since Baby Girl's moved into her own room, than I did when she was rooming with us. When she was with us, I would end up awake pretty much all night checking to see if she's breathing; afraid to fall into a deep sleep in case she stopped breathing and I didn't notice. The Angelcare baby monitor comes with a movement sensor that detects even the lightest movements, such as a baby breathing, and will alarm if there is no movement. It works like a charm - we tested it! And I feel more comfortable falling asleep (of course I'm still waking every 3 hours to feed her, but for the 2 1/2 hours between each feeding, I get a much deeper and more restful sleep).

My office chair - seems strange, doesn't it? My office chair has wheels, and one of Baby Girl's favourite things to do is to sit upright on my lap facing out, with each hand gripping tightly onto my fingers (like "handlebars") and go for a "drive". I make "vroom vroom" and "beep beep" noises and yell at "everyone" to "get out of the way because Baby Girl's driving" and we "drive" from the kitchen all the way to the back bedroom and back, stopping at each room to pick up or unload passengers. She just loves it!

Our BabyTrend LATCH-LOC travel system - one of the most highly rated car seats on consumerreports.org in terms of safety, and also one of the most affordable travel systems out there. Can't ask for more than that. The car seat/carrier is kinda heavy so it can be cumbersome to just carry around by the handle so we do use the stroller a lot and snap the seat into that. But it's very well designed, well built, safe and secure; the stroller is easily expanded and collapsed (even with one hand!) and the one-handed steering works like a charm too. The handlebar is at the right height, it's a smooth ride, and we love it. We also had our carseat base installed and inspected by the local Police Department and we bought a second base for Tim's car so that it is easy for us to take her out in either car.

Warm Towels fresh from the dryer, and our heating pad - I mentioned in the previous post that Tim's discovered that if he puts a towel fresh from the dryer on Baby Girl's mattress to warm it up, when we put her down she's less likely to wake up or fuss. We've also been using our heating pad for the same effect (on the lowest setting).

Internet banking and bill paying - save having to pack the car for a quick trip to the bank, or post office / mail box.

Internet shopping - at reputable stores only, but it's kinda nice to be able to order stuff online and have it show up at your door (especially the big stuff). Of course, shopping is still a way for Baby Girl and I to get out of the house so we don't do everything online ;-)

Our bathtub - it's long, and deep and the bubble massage feels great. When Tim's home to watch Baby Girl in the evening, it's the first place I head after dinner ;-)

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Two Pounds, Real Tears, and Separation Anxiety

Today was Baby Girl's one month checkup and she weighed in at a healthy 11lbs 4oz and 22 inches long! Doctor said she's gaining weight at a healthy rate, and eating and pooping as much as she's supposed to be, she's healthy and doing well and developmentally on track. That's our girl!

However before we could leave, she had to get her 2nd Hepatitis B shot. I don't know who it hurt more - Baby Girl, or Mom and Dad. When they stuck the needle in she cried out and looked at me with those big eyes, filled with real tears, as if to say "Why, Mommy?" I picked her up to comfort her, and she wrapped her tiny arms around my shoulders so tightly and buried her little head in my neck and proceeded to sob her little heart out. It was all I could do not to burst into tears myself. Poor little girl. But it's gotta be done.

Yesterday I went in to work for the day to deliver performance reviews to my team members. Tim took the day off to take care of Baby Girl. It was tough being gone from her for an entire day (I did see her at lunch though). But at least it's done and I don't have to think about work again until December 1st, when I go back :-). It sounds so far away but I know the time will pass quickly. However I refuse to think any longer on the subject!

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Further evidence...

"Come on... one big one... let me see what you've got. Let it out. I know it's in there... let 'er rip... you know you want to... come on -one nice big belch for Mommy"

"GOOD GIRL! That's my Baby Girl! Nice burp! Excellent tone. Good delivery".

As I was burping our little darling this morning after her breakfast, and then later as I was changing her poopy diaper, it occurred to me that at some point I will no longer be praising our little munchkin for her belching, farting, and pooping prowess...

"Ok - let's see what's in the diaper. Oooh! GOOD GIRL! You made Mommy a Poopy Diaper! Nice texture, Baby Girl. Wonderful colour. You worked extra hard on that one, I can tell! That makes Mommy so happy! Yay!"

But that day is a ways away still :-)

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Look out American Idol, here comes Mommy

I posted a while back while I was still pregnant about the lullabies I looked forward to singing Baby Girl when she was born. And I truly have been enjoying that. But lullabies, it turns out, are just a small part of a Mommy's singing career. I've discovered diaper changing time requires a whole other repertoire of songs - fun distracting songs as opposed to soft, sleepytime songs. And so quite unconciously I've resorted to what I imagine Mommies since the dawn of time have done: made up my own lyrics to existing songs in an attempt to entertain my little cutie. For example -

Abba's Super Trooper has become "Super Pooper" and "Take a Chance on Me" has become "Put your Pants On Please".

My little Super Pooper, the smell is gonna blind me
But I won't feel blue
Cause Pooing's what you do
It means that you are healthy too

Put your pants on please
Put your pants on please
Gonna do my very best to get these pants on you
They should still fit just fine unless you grew.

Not quite sure why I've gravitated to Abba, but there you have it folks. I AM definitely a Mommy now.

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Lullaby Memories

There are three lullabies that I vividly remember my mom singing to me when I was little. She would tickle my back while I was lying in bed (I've been a tummy sleeper for as long as I can remember. OH how I'm looking forward to those days again ;-)), and sing these songs to me as I drifted off to sleep.

Of the three, the lyrics for the first and third I've always remembered. But on the second(which was also my favourite), I could only ever remember the first 4 lines of the song and the melody of the rest. Even internet searches turned up nothing. 'Till now. Just gotta find that right search string I guess. I did notice that the lyrics for each of these that I found on the internet are just every so slightly different than the ones I remember... not sure if it is because Mom sang slightly different lyrics, or if it's that she sang the right ones, but this is just what my young ears and brain interpreted. I could ask her I suppose, but because this is MY blog entry, and MY memories, I wrote the lyrics I remember as opposed to the "official" ones. :-)

I often wondered why the lullabies that were sung to me were of Irish origin, when my Grandmother on my Mom's side was Scottish and Mom was born in Scotland as well. Did Grandma sing these lullabies?

Toora, Loora, Loora
Over in Killarney, many years ago
My mother sang this song to me in a voice so sweet and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way
And I'd give the world if she could sing that song to me this day.
Toora, loora, loora
Toora, loora, li
Toora, loora, loora
Hush now, don't you cry.
Toora, loora, loora
Toora, loora, li
Toora, loora, loora
That's an Irish lullaby

I always liked that one; found it very soothing. But always thought it was a bit sad too - when I was little I wondered why the Mom of the person who wrote the song couldn't sing the lullaby anymore. At some point I realized why and that made me sad.

How Can You Buy Killarney?
An American landed on Erin's green isle
He gazed at the scenery and raptured a while
"How can I buy it?" he said to his guide
"I'lll tell you how" with a smile he replied.
How can you buy all the stars in the skies?
How can you buy two blue Irish eyes?
How can you purchase a fond mother's sighs?
How can you buy Killarney?
Nature bestowed all her gifts with a smile
The emerald, the shamrock, the Blarney.
When you can buy all these wonderful things
then you can buy Killarney.

This was my favourite because I'd always drift off to sleep with visions of a dark sky filled with bright twinkling stars and emeralds Against the relative light of the sky, I would see a darker shadow outline of a man standing on top of a hill, his arm stretched up towards the sky trying to pluck the emeralds out of it but not being able to reach them.

I'm Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover
I'm looking over a four-leaf clover
That I've overlooked before.
First comes the sunshine, and then comes the rain.
Then come the roses that bloom in the lane.
No need explaining, the one remaining
'Cause that's someone I adore.
I'm looking over a four-leaf clover
That I've overlooked before

This one would always conjure a vision of me walking down a dirt path of a lush, emerald-green forest with droplets from a recent shower sparkling on the tree leaves and underbrush in the scattered sunlight. As I came upon the edge of the forest, I'd find a little wooden bridge. At which point I'd stop, and stand on my tiptoes while grasping the wooden railing with both hands, peering over to find a ravine filled with light pink wild roses and clover.

We had a lot of little clover patches in the grass surrounding our apartment building in Germany and I used to amuse myself by combing through it looking for the four-leaf clovers. I remember finding one once, and Mom or Dad pressed it in a big book, and I kept it for a long time, but then lost it.

I'm not much of a singer. I have a horrible voice and can't carry a tune to save my life. But I don't think Baby Girl will mind that at all. I'd like to sing her the same lullabies that my mom sang to me. I wonder what visions will dance across her mind's eye as she drifts off to sleep to these songs.

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