Not for the Squeamish: 2010

The 10-minute Milk

Page 63 of the Toddler manual:

Ask your mommy for milk. No, juice. No, milk. Ummm...what? Milk. No, milk.

Let her get it out of the fridge, then declare you want to do it. This works best with a new gallon. Eventually "help" by placing one finger on the carton as she carries it over.

Wait until she pours some into a cup. Immediately, no matter what cup she has selected, request a different cup. If possible, go through the cups in the cabinet yourself. All of them. Try to finally choose a cup with a lid.

After she starts pouring into the new cup, cry. Proclaim through tears that you want to do it "all by himself."

(Expert level: get your mommy to pour it back in the carton to start over.)

Help pour "a lot. not little. a lot!" of milk. To the top, if you can. Over the top if you're quick. Don't fall for her trick of, "That IS a lot!" when it clearly is not. Keep going.

Whine until you get to put the cap back on the milk.

Snatch the lid from her hands to declare, "No mommy do lid!" Cry.

Slam lid onto full milk. As your mommy gets more paper towels, try again, this time squeezing the cup or tipping it for more leverage. Accidentally knock over cup in attempt to help or get out of the away.

Accept new cup of milk but refuse lid altogether.

Finally, take one sip, leave cup behind.

Ask your mommy for water.

Perpetual Motion G-man

One thing we learned from the very beginning: the G-man rarely stops moving.

He was a fidgety baby, always grabbing something, kicking, squirming, forever waving his arm in the air. I feel it's one reason he didn't nap; he was too busy being busy. I was almost a bit concerned about it. I mean, what kind of little one never relaxed? He was so go, go, go all the time. He even kept his bones and muscles ready for action, refusing to sit down and bend at the waist if given an opportunity stretch out. He wouldn't fold into the baby sling, sit for music class (before he could stand, he simply arched and made me hold him up so he could move around at will) or quietly contemplate his mobile.

In order to fall asleep, he needed a lot of movement, from both himself and us. He flailed around for a bit and we had to rock, swing and sway him. A LOT. Not a gentle movement but a full-on aerobic workout. If he fell asleep and we slowed our rhythm or shortened our swing, whoops! He woke up. Violent motion, eyes closed. Gentle sway, eyes open. Put him down? Forget about it.

On the rare times he fell asleep in the car, it was on the highway or after a long stretch at a fairly constant rate. Slow down to turn, stop for a traffic light, pull into a parking spot? Waaah! It was like being in the movie Speed. "I'm sorry officer, if I slowed down to 35, the baby would wake up. We. Do. Not. Wake. The. Baby."

I thought it was all a phase, but as I've been trying to teach him to sit still, I see he's more active than ever. He kicks, jumps, knocks around (for fun) in his crib to fall asleep. He cannot sit for more than 4 seconds, even during an activity he likes. I've never seen someone turn doing sticker books, coloring or watching TV into a cardio workout.

G-man is constantly climbing on me (despite my lesson "Mommy is not a playground"), even if it's during supposedly quiet storytime. His arms continue to flail and squirm with his heartbeat. He bounces when he eats. He's always reaching out to grab my hair or his hair or whatever he can reach. He must always be squeezing my thumb or patting something as I try to get him to nap. My toes are black and blue from him trying to balance on them while he has snack. I have a perpetual swollen lip as he shoots up into me from my lap. He lunges, goes noodle-like or pops out without any advance warning. Fidget, fidget, FIDGET!

We have arguments about settling down - I'm for it, he's against it - and battles to do the smallest things because I can't get him to stop long enough to put shoes on, eat an almond, change a diaper. His constant motion leads to falls off the sofa and spills from a bench and the occasional vocal outburst (yet always in my head), "G-man, sit STILL!" But not to a pause in the action.

How someone can be sloth-like yet never fully stopped is a mystery.

I get worn out just thinking about it!

Liar, liar, pants on fire

My britches are burning. That's right, I'm a big ol' liar. If the G-man knew how many fibs I've thrown at him, he'd never believe another word I said.

What? I'm not totally honest with my 2.5 year old? Uh, would you be? Besides, I usually use my tall tales for good. Well, good for me...

And really, this stage won't last long, but while it does I'm going to milk it. The G-man is just old enough to start to understand some concepts and reasoning, but not quite old enough to realize my powers are limited.

For example, did you know attractions open and close at my mere presence? Things like the zoo, the playground, the pool; they are only open if we are there and when we leave, they close. Sometimes, we leave because they are "closing" and if it just happens to look like people are still there, don't worry, they have to go home, too.

Speaking of the zoo, the animals - all of the animals - and the carousel and the tram have to take naps. We have been lucky enough to get there when they are awake but right around G-man's hypothetical naptime, they have a snooze-fest, too. We'll have to sneak out quietly so as not to wake them.

Gymboree takes a lot of naps, too. If we aren't there, it's because the entire playplace is resting.

Did you also know that biting a toy train hurts it? Or that only mommies can scrape the tomato paste out of can? How about that there are some candies you can only get on a plane? Or that the iPod randomly breaks and we can't listen to a certain song? Ok, that last one is sometimes real.

As far as G-man knows, I can control a lot of the universe. If only it were true.

A boy and his snake

Oh, seriously, get your mind out of the gutter! Not that snake! Besides, he calls that his junk.

No, no, this is about G-man's stuffed snake, Alice. Recently, thanks to the snake exhibit at the zoo and its proximity to the ladybug on the carousel, G-man is very into snakes. I draw snakes. We look for stickers with snakes. He hisses sometimes. Don't get me wrong, trains are still the main attraction in his life, but snakes are taking up what little time is left for another interest.

Alice is one of several snakes in our house now, but by far the biggest. In order of size, we first have the little ones from a pack o' snakes purchased at the shore. I think there were originally eight, but one never made it home from the boardwalk. These occasionally are seen buried in sand, collecting debris under a chair or simply piled in a bowl somewhere.

Next comes Joey. Joey preceded Alice by about a week and was the "big snake on campus" for that time. He's a long, red rubber snake, lovingly selected from the zoo gift shop and the winner of G-man's endurance test to see what snake he could play with the longest on the floor of said gift shop. In his heyday, Joey took stroller rides, accompanied the G-man on car outings, was fed from a toy bottle and carried around all willy-nilly.

But then Alice arrived. Also from the zoo gift shop, she's plush, at least 6 feet long and red. G-man adores her. He reads stories to her and with her. She helps him do puzzles. Alice sleeps on the rocking chair in his room at night after completing G-man's bedtime routine. They play games together. She's also been on car rides. Alice gets snuggles, pets and is often proclaimed to be "silly." And, as a long, stuffed toy that is dragged around the house, she performs a sort of dusting service for me, too.

Alice is the closest thing we've had so far to a non-train lovey. But fear not for Joey. His ability to curl up into a small footprint earned him the right to come on vacation with us, whereas we didn't think US Airways would go for Alice's presence. (that's right, there were snakes on that plane!) Bandaids stick to Joey better so he gets to wear Cars and Hello Kitty. He and Alice sometimes share the job of doing puzzles or reading books and get to relax together some evenings. Both keep somehow ending up in G-man's mouth. However, Alice alone gets to turn on the sound machine at night. As for the little snakes, well, they didn't get their own names, but are at least known by their colors.

And here's a little secret the G-man doesn't know about yet. There is another red snake, a teeny-tiny squishy snake, in the house. In his school bag! Just waiting for the right moment - or meltdown - to make him or herself known.

Thanks for the memories

We recently returned from our annual vacation to the Jersey Shore. And if you didn't hear about it on the news, that's because it went well! Unlike last year's disastrous flight home. The G-man was a top-notch traveler, far exceeding our expectations. As for an overall vacation companion, he was great at that, too. Took everything in stride and seemed to enjoy all of the experiences.

Oh, what experiences he had! It was pure toddler heaven. He got to ride in a jet plane; take a trip on a steam excursion train; dine out in new places; watch fireworks; play in the sand and ocean everyday; visit playgrounds; watch boats, planes, seagulls and lifeguard vehicles from the beach; stroll the boardwalk; ride every carnival-type ride he was tall enough to get on; eat his weight in ice cream; stay up late and so much more.

Each evening we went over his day and he talked about how much fun he had. It was wonderful.

And for the most part, he doesn't remember a thing.

When you ask him what he did on vacation, he'll tell you that he went on a jet plane. Or that he had stickers on the jet plane. Or that he "did great" on the jet plane (true). Mostly, because going home on the plane was the last thing we did. Occasionally, if we've just talked about it, he'll mention the train ride. After some prodding he might tell you about a moment at the amusement park, getting sand in his eyes or the snack he had at Uncle David's. Sadly, in just a few weeks, even these small snippets will probably be gone from his conscious memory.

To try to save some of this for posterity, I took a ton of photos and some short videos. Hopefully, when we show these to him, he'll remember something or at least recognize that he is there, doing...something, somewhere. But in reality, I don't have much hope. Will he ever really know all the stuff we did with him and for him? How we ate peanut butter non-stop to save up so he could do anything he wanted for an entire week? How we longed to take a nap but powered through our days to entertain him?

It made me think of all the times I went down the shore as a kid and what I remember. I bet my parents did a lot for us and made a lot of sacrifices to give our family a great week of fun, sun, sand and surf every summer. I'm sorry to say though, I have no clue what they were. Here is a brief synopsis of my shore memories:

Swimming in the pool at the motel in Wildwood. That's right, I'm sure we went to the beach every day, but I remember going down the slide into the outdoor pool wearing my floatie. I don't, however, remember if anyone caught me.

Watching TV with my brother while eating gumballs in the hotel room at Wildwood. May have been the same hotel. May have been the same year. I'm guessing they were even a treat from my parents and that we got them on a fun-filled excursion to the boardwalk. No clue.

Getting sand in my swimsuit.

Knowing when my little brother had been in the surf for too long because his lips turned blue.

Wearing my shoes (jellies!) into the ocean because I didn't want to step on seashells.

The year I bought a swimsuit whose lack of coverage shocked my father.

Kissing a boy from the beach (same summer as the swimsuit, go figure).

Playing board games with my older brother.

I'm going to venture to say that my parents provided me with hours of entertainment, perhaps even side trips, fun dinners, family time on the beach, and what I remember is a sad testament to their own hard work.

I think that for the next few years, the G-man will have only fleeting memories of anything we do with him or for him. I will, of course, continue to stalk his every move with the camera like a deranged paparazzi, if only to give him plenty of material to look back at when he's older and say, "Oh, I did that? Hope it was fun."

Well G-man, it was fun. And I loved being there with you. The fact that just today when I asked you about vacation and you told me you had strawberry milk on the train and that it was pink gives me hope that your brain is storing all this up and will do something awesome with it someday. Maybe you won't recall every clickety-clack of the wheels, but when a whistle blows in the distance, you'll have an inexplicable urge to become a strawberry farmer.

Sloths 'r Us

Thank you to everyone that submitted your sloth report. I understand that most of them were late, but given our status as champion lollygaggers, this is actually to be commended.

Some highlights from the toddler section:

Kudos to all of you that have successfully managed to stall by at least 15 minutes when leaving the house. By far, the number one tactic is a last-minute poopy diaper. Those that were able to hold it until your mommy's hand was actually turning the front door get a gold star. Additional methods used include needing time to gather every toy in the house for the trip, claiming you suddenly need a nap, repeatedly taking off your shoes and finding a long-lost cracker that can only be consumed while lying down on the floor.

Just as a reminder, getting to the car is only half the battle. Many of you seem to have forgotten nothing happens until you are fully strapped into the carseat, so use this extra time to your advantage. Claiming a need to climb in by yourself, especially when your hands are full, can buy you precious minutes of non-productive time. Be sure to meticulously check under all the seats for any forgotten or dropped toys that you will surely not be able to live without for the next 30 seconds. This next move takes practice, but if you are quick, you can scoot over the center console to explore the front seat while your adult is untangling the straps on your carseat yet again (remember, always twist on your way out!). At the least, you should feign innocent curiosity and not move until you are allowed to touch something in the front. And then touch it again. And then have your adult touch it.

Here's a great tip that recently came in: why move if you don't have to? Inexplicably standing still saves energy and will bring your adult to new levels of frustration. For an ideal, "what the...?" reaction, implement this device when you actually want to go somewhere. The mystified look on your mommy's face when she knows you want to go see trains, yet will not move to get there, is priceless. For an additional use, try it in a public place to see the streams of people flow around you.

How can you bring your sloth lifestyle into everyday situations? Check out this month's newsletter for ideas. Our favorite? Rules for buckles. Be sure you have some arbitrary rules for when and how you can buckle yourself into a car, stroller, booster seat or anything else. You'll find many opportunities throughout the day. Breaking these rules must result in an ear-splitting, time-wasting tantrum so change them up frequently and don't give in until they are properly followed each time.

In all, everyone had some great performances. To date, we've lost 16% of overall productive time and our adults have been an average of 27 minutes late to all functions. It's only mid-year but we're already close to the 30-minute mark! Bed times are running 42 minutes later and meals take almost 10% longer. Keep up the good work!

Lions and tigers and bears...are where?

Rumor has it, there are animals at the zoo. Now, we go at least once a week, sometimes more, and I have yet to really confirm this, but I'm giving the idea the benefit of the doubt.

From what I hear, our zoo groups the majority of its animals by continent/habitat. The largest section by far is Africa, with all of the animals of the Serengeti and standard zoo favorites - giraffe, cheetah, gorilla, zebra, etc. There's Australia, featuring fun kangaroos, sheep and a lot of birds. The Tropics take you to the rain forest, the Discovery Barn shows kids frogs and meerkats, with farm-ish/americana animals (pig, deer, donkey) outside. A few catch-all areas showcase tigers, elephants, otters, sea lions and soon, polar bears. In short, it's a zoo with zoo stuff.

So with all of this to choose from, how is it we haven't seen any of them? I mean, the G-man LOVES the zoo! It's his number-one go-to destination. Aren't we there to see his favorite animals? Not really...

Despite the fact we spend hours there every week, rain or shine, we rarely see a creature other than other zoo guests! For the zoo has a few more things that he prefers: carousel, tram, train and playground. The majority of these are focused around the front gate, so we can go weeks without ever setting foot in the main part of the zoo. Trust me, it's almost a skill to be so focused on non-zoo activities.

Upon our arrival, it's straight to the carousel, for one thing and one thing only - a ride on the ladybug. Really. That's all he will ride. God help us if there is another kid riding the ladybug or even looking at it. His ladybug riding is legendary, with staff regulars recognizing him straight off.

If given the chance, he would do the carousel all day. We use it as a home base, as in me saying, "Let's go do X" and G-man finishing with, "and then ride ladybug again." We simply bounce back to it on a consistent basis.

Next to the carousel is the snake exhibit. I will say, he does love this and they are the only animals we routinely see. I'm sure part of their allure is the convenient location to the ladybug.

After another ride, it's off to...ride something else. The tram is the logical choice. It runs to Africa, so you'd think we get to see that at least. Not so fast! You didn't think G-man would let us get off the tram, did you? We wait for it to unload/load again and then ride back to the main gate. We can occasionally see the elephants on our journey and usually the flamingos, too. These, along with the snakes could be the only animals we see all day.

If the planets are aligned, we can ride the train, located next to the tram stop. It has two sections. The first trip starts at the front gate and loosely takes you past camels, sheep and kangaroos. Unfortunately, that long journey involves a tunnel that scares the crap out of him so we have to skip it. But the second half of the trip (starting from another station) is very short and only takes you by the polar bear exhibit construction site on the way back to the front gate. It almost guarantees you won't see an animal but G-man is thrilled to see the machines instead.

How is it we get near the other train station to begin with? Why, it's near the playground! Yep, there's a playground with slides and tunnels, located just a wee bit away from the main gate. How nice. Walking to it takes about 2 minutes from the carousel and is often the farthest distance we travel on our own. It's usually too freaking hot to use from sitting in the sun, but entices him just the same.

So if you ask G-man what he did at the zoo, he'll say, "see animals," but he's lying. I'm curious to see how he reacts when he's older and realizes there are a ton of creatures to really watch and that the zoo isn't just a tiny amusement park that happens to have random elephant sightings.

Before toddler-hood, I've never knew it was possible to spend 4 hours at the zoo and barely leave the front area. But G-man is fine with that and that's what counts. I, on the other hand, am inexplicably exhausted after it all, every time.

Keep that in mind if you ever embark on a visit with us. Oh, and one more important zoo fact: he is totally scared of sea lions.

2 years, 24 weeks, 4 days

Today, the G-man did something for the first time. Something amazing. Oh sure, there are tons of milestones we've been excited about - his first solid foods, his first steps, his first words. But this is truly a banner moment in our lives as a family.

Today, at 2 years, 24 weeks and 4 days old, G-man told me he was tired and wanted to take a nap.

Out of the blue! As he was riding in the car on the way home from a disastrous trip to the splash park, I hear him say, "G-man tired. Go home, take nap."

I practically had a heart attack. It's a wonder I didn't wreck the car in my excitement and disbelief.

You see, the G-man has never been a napper. He barely napped at all his entire first year. And by that, I mean just a few times a month we had the miracle of daytime sleep. And that required an act of congress. 2.5 hours of rocking, singing and begging for 22 minutes of slumber peace. We still haven't caught up on our own sleep from that year.

During his second year, he decided that only 2 hours of intervention would be necessary and some sort of nap would happen about 5 times a week, and for a few weeks of bliss, it was every day. I was spoiled. I started showering every day, getting work done while the sun was up and snacking on the goodies I won't let him eat.

Then he turned two and the party stopped. Almost from the moment we said, "Happy Birthday!" he's been back on the move and barely blinks, much less closes his eyes. When I pick him up from PDO, his teachers look so tired and then I know he's even stopped napping there. To be fair, I do still try every day - story, paci, music, rock, rock, rock... - and can count on success about three days a week. It's just that I never know when those three will come. And sometimes he has a marathon 3 hour snooze and other times it's back to pizza delivery 30 minutes or less.

And through all that, even when he yawned and had eyes so puffy from lack of sleep he could barely see, he never, ever, admitted to being tired.

Until today.

Of course, by the time we got home and I started getting his room dark, paci out and books gathered, he totally denied ever saying it and wanted to play trains. But it was out there. I heard it and he can never take it back.

And best of all, he's asleep.

Boys vs. girls

When we were expecting G-man, we didn’t know what we were going to get. Not like personality or looks, but would it be a boy or a girl? Despite our usual tendency for instant gratification, we managed to let the birth of our baby bring us a long-anticipated surprise.

Scott wanted a girl. I wanted a boy. Either way, one would have to lose.

But the universe has a funny way about it sometimes. Yes, I got my boy, but as the G-man grows, we see that it’s softened the blow of the missing X chromosome and tried to level the field a bit.

For one, he’s pretty. Not just cute, but actually pretty. And yes, as my parents read this they are screaming about how it’s because I’ve let his hair grow long. But really, even if he had short hair, or even a buzz cut, he’d be pretty. He has long lashes, striking eyes, red lips and cheeks nanas want to pinch and kiss. As a baby, even if his hair was in a cap and he was dressed all in blue, people thought he was a girl.

All boy, he runs until he falls down or crashes into something, then, does it again. He destroys and throws whatever is in sight. His fingernails are harboring bits of dirt from all over town. He’s fascinated by machines, fire trucks and tractors. He squooshes his boogers, laughs at farts and puts his hands down his pants.

Yet, his second favorite color is pink. He adores ladybugs and things with ladybugs on them. He loves to wear his friends’ dress-up heels. He prefers Hello Kitty band-aids to Batman. He likes butterflies, calls the cat pretty and likes to feed bottles to baby dolls.

I love that he doesn’t fit a mold or the expected norms of what a boy should be vs. what a girl should be. There are so many things that I feel are taken away from kids when they are “steered” towards one gender preference over another. As he seems destined to be our only, it’s great that we get the best of both worlds while we can.

I am...

Driving the car the other day, I hear from the backseat, “Mommy wipe.” The G-man just had a snack, so I figure he needs a wipe. I deftly whip one of out of the bag next to me, while cursing the city bus that feels the need to take up more than one lane, and expertly hand it to Mr. Clean in the back.

“Mommy wipe.”

“I just gave you a wipe. Do you need another one?”

“No, mommy wipe. Mommy take dis.”

Oh, he’s done with it. For some reason, he feels the need to give me things while I’m driving instead of just tossing them over his seat next to him like he would do anywhere else. So, I trustingly reach my arm back there again.

And…he wipes something on my hand.

Ew. It’s, well, I don’t know what it was. Booger? Leftover goo from his snack? Something found in the depths of his carseat, the bottom his shoe, the back of his mouth? Whatever it was, I suddenly had a moist blob on my finger. Mommy wipe indeed!

Maybe it wouldn't have been so gross if it was the first time. (Ok, no, it was still gross.) But in reality, he wipes everything on me - his nose, his mouth, his shoes. If he starts to eat something and changes his mind, he expects me to hold it, no matter what state of consumption it was in. Find a (dead) worm? Sure, mommy is the right place to go with that. Need bird poop cleaned off a swing? Why wait for a paper towel when mommy's hand is right there? I do, by the way, draw the line at that one even if it means making his highness wait a few more minutes.

And, so it continues: I’m a human napkin.

But that’s not my only role. Like a chameleon, I’m skilled at situation adaptation, morphing into anything at a moment’s notice.

When G-man feels the need to climb, I’m a playground. For snacks and meals, I’m chef and dining entertainment. At any out-of-home activity, I’m a pack mule, carting boy and gear wherever we go. I’m an elephant, train or bridge depending on his mood. I’m a magician that makes boo-boos better and white milk turn brown.

I am all things, at all times.

I am G-man’s mommy.

License to ill

I have long had a stance against licensed character merchandise for children. I did not like the idea before I had one and that hasn't changed after having G-man. In fact, I flat-out hate them for the baby/toddler set.

There are so many reasons I find them so wrong. For starters, the majority of licensed character items marketed to young children are from television shows. Which, if you've been paying attention, I don't agree with kids under 2 watching at all, and toddlers/preschoolers older than that shouldn't be watching too much either. So why is Nemo on the small swim diaper? Winnie the Pooh on the teether? The Backyardigans on a size 3 sandal? Why on earth are the majority of 1st birthday decorations Elmo or Dora or Disney? These kids aren't supposed to know who the characters are yet! If they do love them as their parents will exclaim, I can only assume it's because they've had plenty of time to make friends in front of the TV.

Ah, now this is where you say that assumption is totally wrong! And you're right. The character merchandising is so rampant that kids really don't have to see the show to know the personality or at least be familiar with something resembling that shape and color. The G-man knew of Elmo because we received a sippy cup at our baby shower with the high-pitched muppet on it. And by the time he was old enough to use it, he had seen Elmo books at PDO, Elmo toys at friends homes and Elmo's face plastered on the shirts of pals practically from day one.

So this licensed character stuff is really insidious and taking over our children in general, and pushing towards my kiddo in particular, at an alarming rate.

Today I wanted to buy the G-man an electric toothbrush. However, the only options I had were Thomas the Tank Engine, Disney Princesses or Toy Story. Similar to the last time I bought him one when I had to pick Pokemon as the most likely thing he would not have seen before. How come I can't just buy a green one? Or a generic train? Or something with a ladybug on it?

The same goes for the toothpaste - Thomas or Baby Einstein. The only watershoes in his size were Spiderman. Earth's Best snacks are all Sesame Street. Most mass-merchandise brand name diapers have a well-known cartoon face on the ass. Try as I might, I've found a vast array of baby/toddler necessities that only come as a licensed character.

Everything is so compartmentalized and categorized for our convenience. There are no generics when it comes to kids preferences. They are simply steered to whatever character comes closest to that week's obsession. Kid likes trains? Your option is Thomas. Likes race cars? Here are a zillion items, but all with the Cars theme. Want a tiara for dress up? Choose Ariel or Belle, or better yet, both so your kid will know they are loved.

I know it's too much to ask that G-man not be exposed to the kind of marketing that makes him choose a fruit snack simply because the Wonder Pets are on it or demand that I get him a kid's meal because Shrek 18 told him to. After all, this is the real world, and part of navigating it will be to learn the pros and cons of licensed characters and what they offer.

As an adult, I have a Sesame Street shirt, a secret love for Hello Kitty and a passion for things with a NY Yankees license. But I also have an idea of what else is out there and the ability to make (occasional) rational decisions. Yet I wonder if I'm sending G-man the wrong message with the wrong reasons.

Or maybe, I really just need to lighten up. I bet there is a package of Spongebob edamame left in the freezer that would take my mind off of it.

You're the next contestant

I used to say that sometimes I feel like I'm living on Candid Camera. Often, the things that I saw/experienced just couldn't be real life. Lately, I still get that on-camera feeling, but it's a different kind of game show: Guess that Word!

The G-man's speech is coming along pretty well and I think I can understand about 95% of what he's saying, mostly because I get the context. As for others, I'd like to think they understand him 70% of the time. So that leaves some, um, dead air. And that's where the game begins!

Recently we were walking Tino and from the stroller I hear, "Boo men gen." Yeah, I didn't get it either. So I asked him to repeat it. "Boomgin." What? "Boo gen!" I stop, lean towards him and try again, paying close attention to his lips. "Boomtzgen!" Ok, this isn't working. Then I notice he has his blue water cup and it's empty. So, in a flash of brilliance, I say, "Blue again! Oh honey, I'm sorry, we don't have any water but I'll get you more in your blue cup as soon as we get home."

My prize? He looks up at me and his eyes say...my mom is a moron.

The crestfallen look on his face shows that I have obviously blown this one. Then, I notice behind us that we have passed the quickly-deflating balloons on the sign for the school carnival. For the second time that morning. Balloons again! Balloons again! That's what he was saying!

With confidence, I ask him, "Did we go by the balloons again?" And he smiles and nods enthusiastically. I win!

Now, guess what he was saying the day I thought he was telling me about a flamingo...

Who's on third?

For two visits in a row now, I've been dinged by our Parents as Teachers parent educator (hereby known as Janet) for not working with the G-man on his pronouns. According to her, he should be making strides on using first-person words and learning about the second-person but well, he's not. And a lot of it is my fault. I really haven't put any time into it. Part of it is laziness and part of it is habit, which I guess is kind of laziness, too.

In the beginning, I actually made a conscious effort to use his name instead of "you/your." For one, I thought this would teach him his name. After all, I've been doing it with the dog for years and after eight of them, he seems to get the picture. But I continued because I realized we were using it a lot when he was being admonished, including the ever popular first name-middle name combo for emphasis (which one of his friends used today when she wanted his attention - too cute). I thought he should know that his name is a good thing, so I used it heavily in praising him and just telling him nice things about who he is.

Well, turns out that it's easy to keep referring to him in the third person, and I can't stop! As a result, he can't either. He's started to sneak in an occasional "I" but mostly, it's "G-man have that?" "That's G-man's." "G-man eating." You get the picture.

I think he even believes that "you" is another person. As in:

"No mommy talk to ladies."

"I'm not talking to ladies, I'm talking to you." (um, I'm lying)

"No mommy talk you. Mommy talk G-man."

But Janet, I promise that now Scott and I are both trying a little harder to refer to ourselves as I and me instead of just mommy and daddy and use pronouns with G-man. But if on your next visit he seems to think a weird kid named "you" is living with us, please just humor us for another month or so.

Television post, part deux

Ok, so my last post (really long ago, sorry about that) talked about how the G-man doesn't have the patience for or interest in television. That still hasn't changed, but I'm also still working on it. I often cruise the kiddie channels while he's asleep to see what types of shows are on and what he might like to watch. If I find something, I watch/DVR it to see what happens. So far, we've struck out on forming a bond with most of the shows, but I have been able to form some opinions of my own. Following is my version of "At the Remote."

For starters, I should tell you my criteria. Probably different from G-man's, but that's what makes me the mommy. A lot of my own criticism is based on some recent research about how TV can harm our children. Turns out, the content is one of the least of our worries. Sure, many parents will tell you that Diego taught their kid to count in Spanish, Winnie the Pooh has turned selfish into sharing or how without World Word, little snowflake wouldn't know her ABCs. I get it, there are some real learning opportunities on TV. (I also get that with a little interaction and imagination, you can teach them these things, too.)

So what's the big deal? It's what is going on behind the scenes. No, not commercials, but rather what's going on inside your child's mind. The first few years of life are a time of explosive brain growth and unparalleled brain mapping. Your baby's brain is forming its connections and it's using all of the data input around it to do so. It needs a 3D context to put everything together correctly. How is data being stored without the context of smell, temperature, location? As adults, we understand pretend and we understand how to make the leap between a palm tree on TV and the concept of the beach. The G-man doesn't yet but his brain is trying to find a connection and categorize it.

The production of the show plays heavily into whether or not it's appropriate. I don't care what the story is about or if a famous person is today's guest star if the format does more harm than good. If TV is on at all for little ones, we should be exposing them to slow transitions, not rapid fire scene changes or abrupt switches. This helps them see how we get from one stage to the next. Studies show children respond better to shows with a lot of repetition and singing to foster memory. Plus, they should see more "real" children (not puppets or cartoons or even adults). Sadly, many of the most popular preschooler shows do not meet these criteria.

With that in mind, here finally, are my reviews:

Yo Gabba Gabba

Ok, I love it. It's like crack, and I think the writers are high on it for every episode. But is it appropriate? Um, not really. Mainly because of the quick movement and psychedelic shifts. I like that it uses a lot of songs, although it can be kind of hard to understand the words through the characters' voices. I would be fine with the G-man watching this as he gets older. Kids shows don't have to be syrupy or beige and Yo Gabba Gabba gets it.

Oswald

Yep, I love this one, too! That octopus is too damn cute and I adore his world and friends. The story lines are lovable and creative and I feel good watching it. In fact, I watched it before G-man was born. It moves slowly and seems like something that won't rot his brain. If only he would watch it.

Chuggington

This gets a thumbs down from both of us. G-man used to like it, for the first 4 days it was on. Then he thankfully came to his senses and cries if it's on. I was originally on-board with the idea. A train show that wasn't Thomas the Tank Engine! Thank god. But the first time I watched it I realized it was too much for us. Tons of movement and cutaways just in the opening song. Then the voices that always seem to be shouting make you want to pierce your eardrums. It's too overdone and seems made for marketing. And in the end, the stories suck, too.

Dinosaur Train

I have hopes for this when G-man is older. It's not right for him at the moment - a little too advanced in concept and environmental situations (how can his brain relate to a jurassic volcano?), lots of teeth that scare him - but for a cartoon, it's informative. No songs but I noticed G-man really liked the end of each episode where they show a real paleontologist with kids. He definitely prefers live action, as he should.

The Wiggles

Shoot me. Shoot me now. While G-man may briefly go into a trance when it comes on, he snaps out of it and we can all go back to our lives. For the criteria, it does meet some of them - some slower scenes with more camera pans than cuts, real people (albeit adults), tons of songs with repetitive phrases. But on a purely emotional level, I hate it.

Thomas the Tank Engine

Last and certainly least, who thinks this is a good show?! Possibly one of the worst I've seen. The characters are brats, the story lines have no beginning/middle/end, no real lessons taught to the kids or learned by the trains. The books are just as bad. I can't believe they even get published. Many lack consistency or simply make zero sense! As for watching it, it's a snooze-fest that still relies on back-and-forth scene changes. Oddly enough, G-man will NOT watch this and can barely tolerate the books, but he does love the actual trains we have. Score one for commercialism.

TV or not TV?

I’ve heard that toddlers love TV. Prior to G-man’s arrival, I read up on when they should watch and how to make sure the television didn’t stay on all day or lead to epic meltdowns when it’s off. I vowed to not let it be G-man’s babysitter.

Turns out, I shouldn’t have worried. He doesn’t like it! But in a weird twist of fate, I want him to. Not become obsessed with it but maybe find a few programs that he likes and would want to snuggle up to with me on the sofa when he’s ill or can watch to stop his mind or body from racing and settle down.

Every time I think I’ve found the answer, the victory is short-lived. He’ll like a show for a few days, I’ll set the DVR to record the crap out of it, and then suddenly turning it on will make me the meanest mom in the world. Who screams and cries when a fun cartoon is offered? My boy.

This has left me at a slight disadvantage. We couldn’t rely on a DVD to keep him happy on a flight last year because he had no interest in it. I can’t count on a few moments of boob tube joy when I need to make a client call. I don’t have a go-to showstopper.

The few things he will go for aren’t even normal kids shows. He doesn’t like most cartoons, preferring live action and of course, trains. Great Scenic Railway Journeys and Train Crazy Kids are still something I can pull out of my bag of tricks, but I’ve noticed lately that interest in these is fading quickly. He’s starting to cry when they come on or will only watch very specific scenes. I was really hoping these would last until after we travel this summer but things don’t look good for the passengers on US Airways.

You’re probably thinking I’m lucky. Through no fault of bad parenting, you may have a child whose eyes are permanently glazed and knows how to work On Demand way better than you. I certainly don’t want him to become attached to television, or even a certain show/character, but a minimal interest, a feeling of it being a novelty he can enjoy in special situations would be nice.

Be careful what you wish for? In a few months maybe I’ll be back complaining about how he won’t stop watching TV and that he thinks Dora the Explorer is his real mom.

Lose the battle to win the war

Pick your battles. This is a consistent bit of advice I pick up from all the parenting mags and site experts. If your li'l guy wants to wear a tutu, on his head, everywhere he goes, let him. If your princess will only drink out of a green cup, make sure it's always clean and ready. Don't sweat the small stuff and you'll get more cooperation for the big stuff. This is supposed to cut down on tantrums and foster independence.

You know what? This actually make sense.

The G-man has to do a lot of things every day that he doesn't want to do simply because I said so. Sunscreen? Non-negotiable. Diaper change? Yep, it's happening now. Dinner? Pony up to the table. He's told he can't have his paci, can't have more juice, no climbing the couch, put shoes on, don't draw on mommy's desk, no train video right now, get in the car, get in the stroller, time for a nap, come inside, share with others...the list goes on and on.

C'mon, who wouldn't want to exercise a little control and make some choices for himself? It's my job to make sure he has those opportunities, whether or not it's the choice I would have made. (Um, within reason, of course! One caveat - if you give them choices, make all of the options something you are ok with. No chocolate vs. hamburger for dinner.)

One thing I didn't think about was to make sure your spouse agrees with which battles to fight and which to surrender for the good of the war.

Today, the hot button issue was G-man's choice of music in the car. Like many toddlers, he has an arbitrary and ambiguous decision chain that leads him to love and/or hate specific things and change his mind at the drop of a hat. (Note: he does not like hats.) This week, G-man is in love with one song, and one song only. He requests this be the only song played in the car and it must be on at all times. The good news? It's not a kid's song. It's actually some techno from Scott's ipod by DJ Tiesto. The better news? After a while, techno is really easy to tune out. And there is no need for mommy to have to sing along. Set the ipod to repeat and forget about it.

So while the DJ spun our morning trip to drop Scott off at work, there was a heated discussion in the front seats about whether or not G-man had too much control. My opinion - it doesn't bother me to play his song and it's a little thing in his day to make him happy. Scott's opinion - I'm letting a 2-year-old walk all over me. He even went so far as to say if G-man has discipline issues later, it's my fault (yes friends, this sparked another battle).

But really, who is right? If I give in to G-man on some of these things, like losing control of my radio and turning it over to a wee program director, am I doing him - and me - a disservice? Or is this one of those little battles that ultimately keeps peace in the kingdom?

The water shortage of 2010

"G-man have a waaaa-ter?"

"Have a waaa-ter?"

"G-man have a water?! Waaaaa-ter?! Pweeeeeaaaaase. Waa-ter?"

Ok, 'fess up. Who taught my child to beg for water when he's supposed to be sleeping?

Seriously, I have no idea where this came from. Suddenly, the G-man is stalling for time and looking for attention by asking for water. This just started last week. The first time, we thought, huh, maybe he's really thirsty. But a little voice in the back of my head said uh-huh, this is the start of something.

And guess what? That voice was right. There's no sahara in his room, no immediate threat of dehydration, just a toddler that doesn't want to go to sleep.

Nap time, bedtime, the cry for water builds from the crib. A seemingly reasonable request at first, then escalating to an urgent demand, simmering down to a plea, and then, well, it just keeps coming. It's like he's channeling a camel.

And for the record, we aren't giving in. Except for Scott. He's the new water boy. As for me? I don't bring the H2O but I don't get the nap, either, just the screams until I finally declare the end of quiet (ha!) time and get him out. At which point he suddenly is quenched beyond belief and never mentions the water again.

But back to my original question, where did he learn this tactic? I've talked to his friends' mommies and they report the same phenomenon. But, c'mon, these kiddos aren't really pulling each other aside at the slide to compare notes and sleep-time strategies...are they? Scott suggested Parents Day Out is the culprit. Hmmm, nope. Don't think so. I can't picture his teachers putting up with 8 toddlers all clamoring for water from their tiny mattresses on the floor. Besides, I've been there at naptime. All is quiet, dark, snuggly. Not a sippy cup in sight.

That leaves...I don't know. If they are all doing it around this same age, without the benefit of a conference call, perhaps it's just an unlisted developmental milestone. What's next? Synchronized food strikes? Sudden dislike for the color blue? Only time will tell.

But I'll think about that later. Right now, I'm thirsty.

Random thought generator

Throughout my day, I have a lot of random thoughts. This is not new. But ever since the G-man arrived, the topics and thoughts themselves surprise even me. Here is a sampling of what went through my mind today. For a little background, our activities included registering for summer Parents Day Out, a trip to the zoo and going to Dunkin' Donuts.

Listening to music from DMX puts G-man to sleep. Interesting.

I'm probably the only person today cleaning taco off a train.

Do we have the only train that ever went through a taco?

G-man's main hobby is standing still for no reason.

If I had a girl, would I have to draw pictures of dinosaur's pooping?

If asked, I cannot explain how it took us 2 hours to leave the zoo.

Please don't let G-man go for the breakfast bar that someone just stepped on before I can pick it up.

That kid still has breakfast bar on the bottom of his shoe.

Good thing I brought the Neosporin.

How does he know we're near donuts?

If someone else is riding the ladybug on the carousel, I will pay them to get off it.

Are you kidding me? A temper tantrum because he won't get on the train? He loves trains!

I didn't know that oranges stained.

He's totally going to hit his head on that. (he did)

An entire zoo and riding the tram is his favorite thing.

He's washable.

Why are the fruit bites more appealing now that they've been on the driveway overnight than when they were clean and edible in his cup yesterday?

Do I save the extra munchkins we got with our order or let scott eat them after G-man is in bed?

It's taking me 10 minutes to answer 6 questions on this form.

He's so damn cute.

For the B-man

G-man fans, this one is a little off track. In fact, it's not about him at all. It's barely even about me. But it is about some pretty cool friends we have and an awesome boy that turns two today. Read on...

In October 2007, I was 7 months pregnant with the G-man. Coincidentally, my two best friends from high school were also pregnant. Laura was expecting her second in April and Becky shared my nerves and the feeling of disbelief by expecting her first in July. And unknown to us, we were all having boys. It was cool to be experiencing another chapter of our lives together, 20 years after we first met. We talked about what was happening with our kiddos growing inside and our growing waistlines.

Yet despite all the emails and updates we received from the mom-to-be gurus, we each knew there was no such thing as a normal pregnancy. For starters, in November, I went on bed rest and the G-man came the next month as a wee thing a wee early.

Laura was actually pregnant for the third time, having miscarried earlier in 2007 at almost 20 weeks. Without knowing what had happened then, it was hard to know what would happen now. (And I have to admit, I'm ashamed that I wasn't there for her more when she was going through that pain. It took having the G-man to make me realize what it must have been like.) I was always so happy when each month passed, each visit was great and CJ arrived as a perfect little dude right on time.

But by far, the biggest surprise of all came to Becky two years ago today when the B-man was born. Not expected to make an appearance until the first week of July, a showing during March Madness was, well, madness. What was the universe doing?!

So early, so tiny, so fragile, no one knew what to expect, including something we mommies take for granted once our little ones are beside us, not inside us - would he live?

The first hours for the new family weren't fairy tale happy. They were chaotic, dramatic, filled with frustration, worry and fear. But they were also filled with a rush of love. B-man was here. He couldn't be cuddled, not even touched, but he'd already moved into everyone's hearts.

He fought everything that came his way, and slowly the fear lifted and we knew B-man was now here...to stay. But it wasn't easy. He charmed the NICU for almost 4 months, sometimes mixing it up, sometimes keeping it all smooth sailing. And each day, he brought his own family and their friends closer to him and each other. Not a bad day's work for someone barely bigger than a dollar bill.

Fast forward through the next months as B-man gets his groove on and, while facing challenges large and small, starts meeting his milestones and grows into an amazing little boy. So many problems or detours could have happened along the way and yet it turns out the universe really knew what it was doing. He has some permanent hearing loss, but is rapidly learning sign language so nothing can stop him. And now, two years later, he's almost caught up to his peers on so many levels. But one that he excelled in from the beginning was the amount of love he gave and received.

And now, since G-man, CJ and B-man all arrived within 4 months of each other, I'm lucky enough to experience another journey with my amazing friends.

Happy 2nd Birthday B-man!

(ps: don't take my word for it - want to see how awesome B-man really is? his blog is first on my links to the right.)

A budding foodie

Dear mommy,

Recently, I overheard you and daddy talking about my sudden surge in eating habits. While I admit that I may not have been much of a calorie-intake machine these first two years, don't get too sure of yourselves just because I've allowed a few bites of food to pass my lips.

I get the impression you think the rules of G-man don't apply any more and that I'm going to squeal with delight the next time that samosa casserole appears before me or willingly dig in to some moo-shu on a first attempt. With that in mind, I think we need a refresher course on my main food groups, plus what and when acceptable foods may grace my plate and my palate.

Ice Cream

I cannot stress this enough: the main source of my daily food requirements should come from ice cream, all the time. Ice cream is appropriate for breakfast, lunch, dinner and all snacking opportunities. If asked what I want to eat, ice cream will be the answer. Don't ask if you don't plan to serve that. And seriously, why wouldn't you serve it? Don't you want me to be happy?

Sauce

I like sauce. And dips. In fact, I like these so much, you don't need to serve anything to dip into them; I can use my finger. But if you insist, don't expect me to eat the carrot, fry or god help you, chik'n. I'm simply going to lick the sauce off the dipping vehicle. As for what constitutes a sauce, I'll be the judge of that. Of course, BBQ sauce is working well, but don't stifle my creativity when I dunk a green bean in my milk or a dog hair in my syrup.

Peas

Yeah, I like peas. Want to make something of it? But take note, I prefer them still frozen.

Applesauce

Applesauce is an acceptable lunch. Not as a side, but as the main and only course. And yes, it also counts as a true dipping sauce if something else dares be served with it. I will decide when the applesauce is no longer to appear anywhere near me, probably as soon as you stockpile enough to last through a nuclear winter. As for cinnamon, if you've already put some on there, the bowl will go to the cat. If not, I'll want it. Until you put it on there.

Breakfast Bars

They're not just for breakfast anymore. In the inexplicable event ice cream is not served, a breakfast bar will be the replacement. They should be available at any time, anywhere. If I open the diaper bag, I'd better find one there. In the car after parents day out? Don't even talk to me until the wrapper is off. And here's a lifesaving tip - DO NOT TOUCH MY WRAPPER.

Carrots

I will eat carrots from other people. Not from you. Even if they are the exact same - same brand, same store, same preparation. Don't take it personally, but, um, it is.

Last but not least, feel free to serve me pizza. No special requirements. No special brand. Hot or cold, you can consider this a freebie. In fact, a perfect day would be pizza, ice cream and breakfast bars for all three meals. Throw in a juice box and maybe I'll even let you touch the red train. Maybe.

O Baby!

The G-man has a favorite letter. It's O. Why? I have no clue, but ever since he received a little fridge magnet thing with letters (you put the letters in a holder and it tells what it is, sings a song, etc.), he has been fascinated with the O. The other letters could spend all day at the movies, but that O had better stay home.

It's gone beyond a preference to an obsession. He is on a quest to find Os in everything. He counts the Os on a page in his books; he looks for Os on trucks passing by; he thinks circles are just Os filled in. He doesn't even discriminate between Os and zeroes. When we walk, we have to stop at every house on a certain block to find the O in the address (4305, 4400, you get the picture).

By far, though, his preferred place to find an O is on a stop sign. Everywhere we drive, he looks for the stop sign O. In fact, G-man likes them so much, the promise of finding one is how get him to agree to leave the house when he's less than cooperative. Our morning walks take longer now as we have to pause to look at - and admire - a stop sign O any time we encounter one. I even change the routes we take just so we can see more. He has a little toy stop sign he carries with him and I routinely hear him pointing out the O. The stop sign O is worshipped at our home in drawings, stickers and repeated visits to the accessories page of his train catalog.

O, O, O, o, o, o...oh!

But watch out alphabet king; your round and poufy superiority may soon be challenged by something far edgier: the G-man thinks an X is a railroad crossing sign.

10 minutes to Wapner

"Mommy driving?"

"Yes, mommy is driving."

"Mommy driving?"

"Uh-huh, mommy is driving."

"Mommy driving?"

"That's right, mommy is driving and you're riding."

"Mommy driving?"

"..."

"Mommy driving? Mommy driving. Mommy driving! G-man riding. Mommy riding. Mommy driving? Daddy work? Stop sign O! Stop sign O! More stop sign O! See stop sign. No see stop sign! Mommy driving? Mommy driving. Mommy driving?"

Oh. My. God. It's like riding with Rain Man.

The G-man is a chatterbox, but that doesn't mean he has a lot to say. More like he has a few things he really needs to say all the time. Maybe he just likes hearing himself talk, because he certainly doesn't seem to be paying attention to the answers I give.

I remember when Scott was so anxious for him to start speaking. While I was of course pleased and happy that he was starting to communicate and meeting his milestones, I wasn't truly pushing for it too soon. And why? Because I knew that once he started, he wouldn't stop. Gee, it's like I'm psychic. Or maybe just that I read ahead in the books or started paying attention to toddlers around us before he became one.

He doesn't have an off switch. From the moment his eyes open to the last drifting notes of whatever he sings himself to sleep to, he makes himself heard. It's kind of exciting, and a little bit funny now that he is also beginning to parrot back everything we say to him. (Yeah, we really have to watch what we say now!) But let's face it, it can also be a little bit tiring. Answering the same question or hearing the same soundtrack from his single-focus mind over and over and over again can make time crawl.

I tried to play the quiet game with him one day in the car. Not a genius move. Guess how he plays it? "Quiet game? Quiet game! Mommy quiet. G-man quiet. Stop sign O! Quiet game. Mommy quiet. Mommy driving?"

In all honesty though, I love hearing the G-man's voice. It's sweet, especially when he says things like thank you or good night or I'm sorry. It's his. And he's ours. That said, I barely remember those brief few months between him crying all the time and talking all the time, but I'm pretty sure the silence was golden.

Mr. Smartypants

News flash: two-olds are smart! Wait, you knew this already? Well, it's been a surprise to me.

It's not like the G-man is a genius. I mean, he still hasn't figured out to get his jacket off if the hood is up. He just struggles as he tries to shimmy his arms out while his head snaps back snug in the hood. Mensa does not yet have us on speed dial.

But I am still really amazed at how much kids his age know and learn. Am I the only one? Maybe if I had read the rest of my What to Expect: The Toddler Years, I would know what's coming/what's normal, but I see a flaw in their thinking because they expected me to have time to read it.

Take this evening: I was putting G-man to bed and reciting Big Red Barn after the lights were out (I'm not a genius either, but after 1000 readings, it's firmly planted in my head). What I didn't realize is that it's in G-man's head, too. Because as I was saying it, with no book in front of him or visual clues, he knew what was coming and started to recite parts of it with me. Not just repeating what I said, but doing it before I did. And he hasn't even heard it for at least two weeks. I guess I underestimate him, but I did not know a kid his age would do that. It's cool.

He's been doing more things like that lately, too, that just go beyond my expectations. He's spent 26 months riding backwards in the car, yet can identify where we are and where we might be going just from his limited view of the upper portions of the rear window. And I get still get lost with an address and navigation system.

In the rare moments where I'm allowed to sing, he treats me like a human jukebox, "Eraser song! Sister song! Sing railroad crossing!" The only problem is, sometimes there is no song for his topic of the day so I have to make it up on the fly. The next time he requests it, I don't always remember what I did during the last performance. But he does. And he reminds where I've messed up. Guess I should be flattered that he's paying so much attention to me?

He also knows when I've skipped a page in something we've only read a few times. He's memorized a book from the library that he has limited access to and even I forget. He knows when we pull into a parking garage that we parked there to see Santa in December (shouting, "No Santa!" from the back of the car; don't worry, Santa is probably in the caribbean right now). He knows what scene will be next in a video he hasn't watched that often. He remembers seemingly random things from random places that I never would have thought he'd noticed or cared to store in his mind.

And yes, this wonderment has been going on the whole time. For the first, oh, 34 years of my life I didn't like kids and kept myself in a self-imposed exile from all creatures short, sticky and simpering. So I'll admit, I knew nothing about the G-man going in.

It started when I was pregnant. Sure, I took some sort of class or seminar or something freshman year of high school that covered things like this, but I either missed a lot or it skipped a lot because I was truly astounded to learn how the wee thing was growing. Each weekly Babycenter email update told me something completely new about how far baby-to-be progresses each week and when the parts all come together. Maybe I was naive, but it was kind of like a special surprise each week to see what happened while I wasn't paying attention.

Fast forward to the real baby part and wow, who knew they could do this stuff so quickly?! When G-man was holding his head up and looking around during tummy time at just a few weeks old, I thought it was incredible. Never mind that other babies the same age were doing the same thing. I just wasn't expecting it. Each time he hit another milestone (big or small), it's like I got a present for a holiday I didn't know existed. I knew the milestones, just not that they'd come as fast as they do. They do so much so young and I was/am not ready.

*Side note: I will say this doesn't stop me from wondering why we seem to be the only species that is so helpless and dependent for so long. I'm pretty sure when the baby zebras popped out at the zoo, started walking and saw me pushing G-man in a stroller when he was already 6 months old, they giggled.

It's fascinating to see and be a part of. I think I like not knowing what's next on the developmental timeline. Learning that his current stage is to start forming clear memory and association with the world around him opens my eyes, too.

So if you're a seasoned mom - or just have been paying attention to human progress - and know when more exciting things will happen way before I thought they were supposed to, keep it to yourself and don't spoil my surprise!

It's good to be king

The G-man has a new title in play group: Drama King. Unfortunately, this isn't due to his amazing thespian talents. Rather, it's his ability to melt down over the tiniest thing, a practically unseen slight, the most miniscule of shifts in the universe.

I'm so proud.

One mom described him as sensitive. As in, perhaps he simply feels so much and must react to anything. Hmm, could be. But really, he's never tracked that way. He used to be the laid-back kid in the crowd. The one voted most likely to adapt. And in a way, as far as traditional triggers go, he still is. Being dropped off at PDO doesn't phase him. Loud noises are no problem. Changes in scenery, routine, people don't really seem to throw him off.

But it's in the details, isn't it? He skips the big stuff that might not happen so much and zeroes in on the little things that, on the surface, mean nothing.

Unfortunately, this happens all the time. I swear, when he's screwing around in his crib at night instead of going to sleep, he's planning ways to perfect his tantrums, reduce the time needed to get into full swing and cataloging new things that will light the fuse.

In the past few days, the following have resulted in complete global thermonuclear war:

marker caps that wouldn't stack
the mere presence of a rocking horse
a kid looking at a toy that he was looking at
dinner (not a specific part of it; the concept itself)
mommy talking to a friend
tap water
playing the song he asked me to play
going to gymboree
being offered a muffin

There is no way I can even predict all of the things that are going to send him screaming to the floor. Add to it that he's not immune to the typical toddler issues (refusal to share, excessive resistance to leaving an activity, getting dressed) and we should be on red alert all day.

And maybe that's his goal: to rule his subjects, not with an iron fist but with flailing noodle limbs and ear-splitting screeches, hoping to reap the rewards of lavish attention. But oh, I'm sorry my liege, this loyal subject doesn't play that game.

Contrary to your beliefs, your powers are limited and you will be ignored or simply scooped up under my arm and taken to another kingdom. Sure, it might be a little hard on the ears of visitors to your land, especially when it is you that seemed to be visiting theirs. They may not quite understand our local customs, but I'm willing to take that chance. Look at it this way, at least you're getting exercise rolling around on the floor. Maybe your royal highness will even wear yourself out and take a nap!

The terrible twos? I hear the threes are way worse. Long live the King.

License and registration please, ma'am

Ok, I'll admit it: a few months ago I caught my first episode of Supernanny (on WE. Or was it Oxygen? Either way, don't ask why I was there...) and have been watching it ever since.

There are many things I can relate to, and some I'm just dreading coming up that I see when she visits older children, and Scott and I have sometimes come away with a plan or idea to improve things in the family. We're not perfect parents - remember when we forgot to feed G-man breakfast? - and don't mind learning, especially from the comfort of our sofa.

But there are many episodes where we end up feeling like we are AWESOME(!) because, damn, some of these parents are complete idiots.

Why is it you need a driver's license, a marriage license, a liquor license, but no freakin' parenting license?! I'm starting to feel the pre-baby parenting classes should be a requirement and let's start thinking about a mandatory refresher course every few years. Or just a quick pop-in by the parenting police to see how things are going.

I'm not saying they can't find some dust in the house, a stash of cookies, a preschooler that doesn't speak French yet. Just some basics. I imagine the interview going something like this:

"Do you know where your kids are? As in, right now? Yes, I mean all of them. Our records show three. Did you know that?"

"I see, and now that little Mary is two, have you ever taken her anywhere besides the mall?"

"Do you realize that just because your kitchen knives are pretty colors, they are not toys?"

"Will bedtime be happening sometime before midnight? Oh, well, of course, I understand that the Late Show is educational. Just something to think about."

And so on.

How is it some of these parents have managed to keep their kids alive when they clearly aren't all together? The ones with kids ranging from 1-4 that have never baby proofed and seem surprised to see the video playback of their child poking electrical sockets, climbing cabinets and peering into the toilet. In four years, three kids and you didn't think of this?! How about the parents that couldn't keep their 3-year-old from leaving the house and running into the street? They were truly shocked that they could simply lock the front door to solve the problem.

We've seen footage of parents that never get off the couch and wonder why their boys are bored and acting up. Moms who won't let little ones ever get dirty. Over-scheduled wunderkids that are so frazzled they can't relax. Dads that never come home from work (or play). Parents that look so out of place just being near their kids. Entire families that have given up on themselves.

So many of the kids problems really turn out to be the parents' issues. (Kind of like the Dog Whisperer where I know a lot of Tino's, um, quirks are my fault.) I guess those episodes simply remind us not to slip and forget that we signed up to be real parents, not just providers of food and shelter. Thanks, Supernanny!

And now, the G-man would like to have a word with you about sharing your Time Out policy with us.

The answer key

Is it so much to ask to be right? Not just that, but to KNOW I am right? Because this mommy thing involves a lot more guessing than I signed up for and way less confirmation that my guess is on track. I mean, I don't even get a hot/cold system response when I make a decision. That's so unfair.

I don't mean I have to be right all the time, but that would be nice. I just want a simple pass/fail from time to time.

As strange as it may seem, I LIKE to be evaluated. I want to know where I stand. Grade me, grade me! And yes, I get a total rush when it's positive. I think that's why I was an accounting major: audits, yes/no concepts, and the chance at complete objectivity on every project. (full disclosure: I promptly went into the la-la-land of complete subjectivity by choosing a career in marketing/advertising the moment I graduated.)

Remember when we were little and the teacher answer key book was the most amazing thing in the world? Ah to know it all. Or be able to fake it by simply flipping a page. How come kids don't come with that?

In previous posts I've lamented on the lack of a G-man manual. I get it, we're on our own to figure him out. But hey, how about a little props when I get it right? A motivational nudge that I'm going down the correct path would be a nice touch.

Take the whole daycare/PDO thing. What's best? Home provider or formal school/organization? Both have their good points. Both have their bad points. None of these points seem to be adding up to anything! Not even airline miles. Stretch this concept out to preschool (preview! post on that coming up soon.) and I'm adrift in a sea of morning only schools, all-day schools, X days a week, montessori vs. traditional vs. keeping him in PDO vs. doing nothing vs. ice cream. The G-man will always choose ice cream, but I'm pretty sure that is not the final answer.

Everyone says there's no right answer, blah, blah, blah, it's what you are comfortable with, blah, blah, blah, it's what's best for your child. Got it. G-man, I just need your personal answer key.

Seriously, when do I know what's best? My maternal instinct only goes so far and some of these situations don't give off a reading at all. I feel that this is all a big trick and I'll only know if I did the wrong thing after the fact (like he's 30 and telling his therapist that he would be a brilliant artificial flower researcher instead of a sub-par monkey impersonator if he had just gone to preschool one year later and one day longer) and the real joke is that I'll never know if I did the right thing.

Awesome.

G-rex

By night, he's mild-mannered G-man, sleeping quietly and bringing peace to the land. But by day, he instantly transforms into...dum de dum...G-rex! And his sidekick, Dogzilla.

While I appreciate and encourage his interest in dinosaurs, his new identity as G-rex is a bit unwelcome. And since most of his dinosaur books and toys do nothing but interrupt baths (as in "Dinosaur! by Peter Sis), hang out on puzzles, shirts and jammies, pop-out and drink from straws ("Flapadoodle Dinosaur" by David Carter), or hitch a ride on a passing dump truck in our living room, I don't think he's just imitating something he's seen. This is his own personality creation.

What does G-rex do? Destroy. Ravage and destroy.

The G-man is on a mission to break a toy a day. And he's pretty good at it. His bus is missing its mirrors; the horse trailer lost a wheel and almost a door; puzzle pieces are ripped in half; the trains, table and track all have scratches/chips out of them; crayons are nubs; books are torn; our floors will never be the same.

This is mostly because his new favorite hobby is throwing things. Launching things. Sometimes for fun, sometimes in frustration, always resulting in trouble. He can't take something off a shelf, he has to push it off. He can't move the track from the table, he has to do a raucous full body sweep. Add to that the 'topple effect': if it's stacked, it must be felled. He simply can't stand to see something just sitting there. Like him, all toys must be in motion. It's like toy abuse. They need a hot line.

Is this a phase? I hope so. We've tried time out to little success. Our current tactic is to take away the victim(s) to at least save them for one more day. But how to actually stop it from happening in the first place? I don't know. I'm asking you.

As for Dogzilla, well, Tino simply has no idea how big he is, no concept of his own spatial relations, can't figure out how to move when he's in the way, lacks all aspects of grace and has yet to discover the things on the end of his paws are claws. He is a lost cause but oh, will G-rex soon be extinct?

Because I said so

Exactly when did I lose control? When the G-man was a baby, I determined our food, environment, what we were both going to wear and what we were going to do. Now, even though I'm pretty sure I'm still the parent, it's the G-man that's calling the shots.

I am now told what song we will listen to; what food I will serve; whether or not we are going to story time; which shoes are acceptable (hint: none); where I will sit; who I will talk to; and what we are going to play, plus how to do it. All because he said so.

And I let it all happen.

I think at some point, when he was first discovering who he was and that he could express desires, I thought it was cute. And probably layered that with some blah, blah, blah about his developmental process and growing independence. Oh, he wants this to be the mommy chair. Of course, how adorable. Look at that, he has a favorite book. Let's read it 100 times just to see him smile.

Um, too much? Too much.

A benevolent dictator, he gives me a loving look as he proclaims, "no mommy hat" and takes my hat, that I'm definitely using at the moment, off of my head. Immediately upon demand, I am required to hand over any and all food that I might want to possibly put in my mouth and am expected to not say anything when he decides the dog or the floor is more worthy of its nutrition. If I have been ordered to play with Green Train, I'd damn well better not touch Blue Train. Violate any of his rules, go against any demand, and suffer the consequences.

He's two! Like he's got the mad skillz for any consequences. What, a booger on my leg?

Think more in terms of global meltdown, tantrum frenzy, the inability to do anything else for the next 5-15 minutes while the shrieking/throwing/tears keep coming.

The odd thing is, it's not just me under his spell. At Xmas dinner with my parents, he suddenly uttered one word and declared, "Pie." Never mind that I was still eating my meal; oh no, the whole family sprung into action to clear the table and get the boy some pie. Which, incidentally, he simply uses as a vehicle for his main goal of whipped cream consumption. I've seen his every whim catered to by restaurant servers, Costco shoppers and adult friends in a trance. We've all been brainwashed. How did he do it?

Obviously, he had help. He's not alone in his world domination. His friends command and expect the same results. I've found myself in a fog as I put up no resistance when other toddlers come up to me and want to be held. A simple hand near mine and all at once I'm being led to god knows where by someone 34" tall. I've sat where his friends have selected, played with what they wanted me to, and basically abandoned all pretense of being in charge. And all without putting up a fight.

I'm assuming that at some point, the ball will be back in my court and I will regain control over my life, and maybe even some of his. But for now, think of me as a full-size mommy puppet.

To hell and back

Last week, I noticed that a few of my Facebook friends became fans of Babies 'R Us (BRU according to the forums). The link was right there for me to click to become a fan as well...I barely had to move to do it...just click and voila! I would be an official fan.

I didn't click.

But, for a few moments, I thought about it.

After all, I've spent A LOT of both time and money there. Wouldn't that make me a fan? Yet, every time I do, I think about how I hate that place. Seriously? Hate is a pretty strong word, especially for something as trivial as a store.

Let's start with its location. When I was still in my "hell no, I'm never having a child" phase (which lasted 33 years) I hated the presence of BRU. When it moved from being 15 minutes away from me to 30 minutes away, I cheered. After all, I was never going to be in its neighborhood again.

And then I started my journey with the G-man. And dammit, I was pissed that it was no longer serving my area and I had to haul my ass that far just to wander around and be overwhelmed.

That's when I discovered it's a money-suck. Anyone who has ever complained about spending too much, seemingly by accident, at Costco hasn't stepped into BRU. It's impossible to go in there for something as simple as a pacifier and not drop a benjamin. Or two. If Dante had seen this, there would be a new level of hell. The experience is designed to make you think your baby will die (now! right now!) if you don't get this. In two sizes. And three colors. Because why would they carry it if you didn't need it?

Of course all these items fit into your handy plastic purple cart. It's just the cart that doesn't fit in the store! The main aisles are kind of large enough, but two pregnant tummies and two carts is pushing it. But when you get off the main and into clothing and accessories you are trapped. I think that's why I've purchased so much - I've either tried to clear a path back out or so many things got knocked off and stuck to my cart in passing that they all ended up at the register. I'm guessing there are a lot of security videos that show me attempting a seven-point turn to get around a display, vainly trying to reverse out of a sweater dead-end or risking my child's life with a cart tip maneuver to cut a corner.

And get this, they don't open until 9:30. Nine freakin' thirty. Do they know that's like the middle of the day for moms? I've seen the 9:00 parking lot - minivans everywhere, moms mainlining coffee, eyes glued to the door in case they take pity and open early. We finally managed to make it out of the house and there's nowhere to go.

So now maybe you're thinking that if I don't like it, I don't have to shop there.

Ah, but I do.

Or think I do. Good advertising? No, it just turns out the G-man needed a LOT of stuff and they had it. At least, they have something like it. One thing they really do well is understand that moms don't like going to multiple places. The hassle of getting in and out of car seats, in and out of carts, in and out of check-out lines makes even a simple errand a true chore and comparison shopping for price out of the question. So if BRU has something even close to what I want, I'll take it.

If Target had a better baby selection, that would be a no-brainer, but I think its selection gets smaller by the day. The G-man doesn't.

Boutique shops? Boutique prices. And they never have enough boy stuff!

So once every other month or so, I'm back at BRU to sign over my retirement fund and stock up. Is that why I can't be a fan? Because I feel there is no alternative?

Wait, the online alternative! But guess what? I end up shopping BRU.com anyway. Amazon simply has way too much and no one else has near enough to cover the cost of shipping.

But it is more convenient, open when I am and I'm not as tempted to buy little extras that all add up. Plus, I'm safe from the carts there. Maybe I could be a fan of that.

Eeeeeew

Today I saw the G-man eat something he found in his ear. That's right, his ear. And I thought his current fascination with his nose was bad enough.

Your first thought, like mine, might be, "Gross." That may have quickly been followed by, "What could he have found in his ear?" That's what I was thinking. And no, I didn't really get to see it. As I was rocking him for his nap (which, by the way, never happened. grrr...), he stuck his finger in there, rooted around for a bit, and in the few nanoseconds I had before he put it in his mouth, I noticed it was not alone.

Ear wax? Food from his hair that had perched in his ear? Debris from our visit to the park this morning?

I know there are plenty more disgusting things that will find their way into his mouth in the coming years, but I have to wonder if his creativity has peaked with this one.

To sibling or not to sibling?

From the day we announced we were going to have the G-man, people have been asking if we are going to have another. My standard response was that we were going to try to keep the one we already had alive first. Like I could really think about more when G-man was just a few hours old?

But now that we've managed to keep him mostly safe and sound for two years, the question is still looming. But unlike others that always knew they wanted lots of babies or can't wait to see their family grow and be Parents 2.0, our decision is based mostly on the G-man: does he need/want a sibling? We are perfectly happy and complete with one (or as the blogs call him, a singleton), but is he?

Scott and I both have siblings so we can't imagine an accurate picture of growing up as an only child. Is there too much pressure placed on them with having both parents full attention? Are they lonely? Or, are they happy to receive the full force of love, maybe better finances, a room of their own, the back seat all to themselves? This seems like a question for my mom as she was the only apple of my grandparents' eye (which to be honest, we sometimes teased her about. Hmmm...).

I think if I ask people with and without siblings I'll get a wide range of answers, even in the same family. For instance, I tend to think that my appearance in my older brother's life caused such a cataclysmic shift that he never fully recovered and I, in some ways, ruined his life. I feel bad about that. On the other hand, my younger brother's arrival into my life was one of the best things that could have happened to me and the joy I had when he came home from the hospital is one of my fondest childhood memories.

And let's face it, a lot of my best stories growing up are because I had siblings. Good or bad, the experiences made me who I am today and shaped our relationships.

Maybe the answer differs from where you are in the birth order - first, middle, last. Maybe it's a result of whether the new sibling is the same gender. Or how far apart you are in age. Or how close your birthdays are (I'm the day before my older brother, something I don't think worked out so well). Thus, the questions I would have for the G-man are posed to both only children and the oldest child (as those are his two options right now) and just a curiosity into how gender plays into it.

I know lots of you will think about what it's like to be a parent of one vs. more and how your children interact, but that's not on our radar right now. We know his life would change with a sibling, but would it be for good or evil?

Thoughts?

Enter the entourage

According to the books, magazines and parenting articles, most 2 year olds have a lovey. If you're like me and never heard of this term pre-G, if you had a blankie, bear or some other comfort article you were attached to, you had a lovey. Frankly, I still sleep with mine.

Try as I might, the G-man doesn't have a lovey. We've encouraged him to find one in case he needs something like that in times of change or stress, but except for an unnatural affection for thumbs, he comes up empty.

But what he does have is an entourage.

I thought as he got older, the bag I had to carry would shrink. No more 8-pack of diapers, multiple bottles, smorgasbord of baby food jars and emergency foods. If we go to a restaurant and he doesn't eat, fine. I'm not sneaking in a full replacement meal anymore. Pants are dirty? What else is new? No more wardrobe changes that could rival Cher. One "oh crap, you're wet" pair of sweat pants tucked in the bottom of the bag is all we need. One sippy cup with water. A few wipes. Ta-da! Out the door.

Except now I need room for the entourage. Suddenly, it's not a diaper bag, it's a tour bus.

It seems we can't leave the house, or sometimes even the room, without a collection of things he couldn't possibly be without. This is different from the toys/items I pack in the bag for trips to my parents, a visit to a notoriously slow eatery, or waiting at the DMV. These are the additional things he scoops up as we head out the door, whisk him off to bed or simply sit down to dinner.

The members of the entourage change daily but we do have some consistent items in play. Allow me to introduce:

Red Train - This is an engine that came with his train set, along with Green Train, Blue Train, Coal Car and Train Parts (the other box/flat cars). I am rarely allowed to touch it when it's on the track. It frequently travels with its own entourage of two Train Parts.

Neigh/Big Neigh - No, not some mobster horse, just the finest specimen we could find one afternoon in the Target dollar bin. Large, brown and plastic, Big Neigh has recently dined out three times and "sampled" G-man's lunch at IHOP. I should rename him Sticky Neigh.

Book of the Week - G-man gets obsessed with a book often and this is required reading/viewing at all times on demand, whether in the car, at the doctor's or, as it was last week, the judge's courtroom for a friend's adoption hearing. Our current book always within reach is Freight Train.

Gordon Train/Gordon Train Coal Car - Ah, licensed characters at work. From the truly horrible show Thomas and Friends, this engine and its coal car work with G-man's train set and get a lot of play time. This is an engine I'm actually encouraged to play with. I like when Gordon comes along on trips because I can replace him a lot easier than Red, Green or Blue Train if he gets lost.

Race Car Socks - More marketing at work. The G-man received a pair of "Cars" socks in a party goody bag last year. They are too small for him to wear...on his feet. He likes to put them on his hands (a mild victory for me in the Mitten War) or simply carry them around.

School Bus - You guessed it, it's a school bus. A pretty nice one, I might add. Doors open and all that. School Bus is an interesting member of the group as it is the only thing G-man will share with other kids at the library.

Added to these main players are the fill-ins, special-use and wannabes. Concrete Truck is a favorite for the stroller and a must for the bath; a piece of the train track from his table joined us on the walk last week; a small fit was thrown this morning when Tractor (one of many) was not allowed to leave the car to attend class; he went to Parent's Day Out for a month with Lawn Mower Card (greeting card: "Happy Birthday - and many mower." I don't write this stuff.); we dined one evening with two plastic strawberries as guests at the table.

Perhaps one day he'll settle on one (hopefully small, portable and washable) lovey, but for now, he's content to simply take it all with him.

Is your mommy developing on track?

I get countless emails and have many conversations on G-man's development. You know the ones, all about the milestones he should be reaching, how to encourage them and when to raise a red flag. Everything from rolling over to jumping, eating with a spoon to drawing a circle is tracked somewhere and given an acceptable range for completion. We just had his 2-year assessment from Parents As Teachers and of course, he's awesome. But I had to wonder, what would it be like if the Parent Educator asked G-man about his parent's development?

I'm picturing he has materials like this stashed under his crib mattress so he can compare with the other babies/toddlers:

2 days old - Do your parents have a name for you yet? If not, don't worry, 90% of them will before you go home. It's common for you to not like it.

1 week old - Can your parents remember the name they gave you? Many do very well on this while others may revert to what you were called before arriving (eg peanut, bug, bump) or what they think they named you. Don't worry if there is a period of adjustment.

2 months old - Has either parent tried to put you down for a nap? This is an age where many feel their arms should take a break. Don't let them fall into bad habits. Work on a sensitivity to crib sheets.

3 months old - Can your mommy take your temperature? If you're not sure, work up a fever or start thinking about teeth so she can practice. Most should have been freaked out enough to do this by now. This is also an excellent way to ensure she has your pediatrician's number memorized.

6 months old - Have your parents moved you to your own crib/room yet? If not, you may begin encouraging them by rolling around relentlessly or waking at their slightest movement.

8 months old - Does your mommy have any clean clothes or items without baby food stains? Most are covered by 10 months, but if not, you may need to step up your spitting or food launches. A good tactic is to grab the bowl as just she tries to remove it and fling some food out while she wrestles your hand away. Close range is important.

12 months old - Can your parent still make a phone call while holding you? This is a bad habit for them to be in. Practice your own fine motor skills by pushing the buttons while they talk.

15 months old - Does your mommy know the track number of your favorite songs on each CD? Can she anticipate your need to repeat the same songs over and over before you ask?

18 months old - Feeling lonely? Many parents start testing your independence by leaving you alone for a bit to play. This is just a phase - a few well-timed falls or broken items will get them back to your side 24/7 again. Remember, it is your job to develop their all-consuming attachment to you.

20 months old - What happens when you say mommy or daddy? Many, if not all parents will have their hearts melt and fulfill your every wish afterwards.

22 months old - Your parents should have a large supply of toddler foods on hand, including french fries, cereal bars and butter. Choose to eat only these items to encourage repeat buying habits.

24 months old - Can your mommy multi-task? By this time, she should have given up on what she wants for what you want so you can expand your demands to things like making you a smoothie while putting together a puzzle and holding you.

Keep in mind that all parents are not the same and these are simply guidelines for accomplishment. If you feel your mommy is behind or needs extra training, talk to your doctor or ask for a sibling that can help speed up the process.

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