Not for the Squeamish

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.