Mama Pasta & other triumphs of motherhood

Baby I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song

2011-01-31T20:05:00.008-05:00

Parents want good things for their children. In the least, we want them to be happy and successful. While happiness and success are different things to different parents, we share one thing in common - We look at our little ones, searching for some indication that we have thrown enough at them and something is sticking! We look for a little glimmer of hope here or there that we are actually planting little seeds of goodness in them.

Today my child presented me a beautiful sign that I am on the right path and that I have planted some good seeds in his soul. It brought a tear to my eye, and made my day COMPLETE.

Bath time is song time. I usually stream Pandora on my phone for him. Usually something mellow. Recently we have alternated between the "Peter, Paul, and Mary" station and "The Beatles" station. Tonight - The Beatles.

The song Yesterday came on. The splashing stopped, the Thomas tub toys were abandoned. He sat cross legged, and was swishing his arms through the water, very gently, and quietly. I was singing, and he started humming along, occasionally matching pitch. When it finished - he gave his signature cheesy smile (ear to ear, with eyes squished near closed, and a big goofy head nod).

"Did you like it?"
"Yes yes. Do it again. I need it again. Make it loud and play again!"
"Daniel, I can't. The radio doesn't work like that"
He sighed, in a very dramatic, emo-teen fashion, and hung his head for a moment, then he looked up at me.
"Mommy I just neeeeeeeed Yesterday. It's my favorite"

I was speechless. My sweet darling child, a Beatles fan. Praise.

I've been singing I saw her standing there to him since birth. While My Guitar Gently Weeps and Blackbird are on his lullaby play list. He rocks out to the live version of Twist Shout. John Lennon's Greatest Hits CD never leaves my car. We've watched Yellow Submarine, he has watched my friends and I play Beatles Rock Band, I've tried to explain to him significance of the Sgt. Pepper album, and have preached to him how truly underrated the Revolver album is...and now I know, it has not be in vain.

I call that picture "Pissed off because there is no repeat option on Pandora and mommy's promises to play it for me off of the computer later will not suffice".

Gold Stars

2011-01-29T20:00:00.009-05:00

I don't want to jinx it. I don't want to put the words out into the universe only to have to eat them. There is a CHANCE that I MAY (or may not) be willing to POSSIBLY admit that there have been SOME indicators that MAYBE (perhaps?) the majority of the "terrible 2's" COULD be behind us.

I attribute this upswing to two things - 1) The blessing that is Aunt Jenny as his caretaker during the day, and 2) his sudden explosive maturity in language and cognitive abilities. The Aunt Jenny factor deserves a blog unto itself - - but basically it is the *perfect* childcare situation for D. It is as close to the upbringing I had (which was family only), and he responds to it beautifully. How could you not - it is love. My child is being cared for AND loved. The second factor - language and maturity - could not come fast enough for me.

I HATED having to discipline him in a "cause and effect manner". I know other kids who are his age would actually STOP and contemplate a negative behavior, but not my kid. NEVER. No amount of consistency, and no consequence phased him. No amount of praise and positive reinforcement made a permanent change in his behavior.

But recently, we have a change! His emotions are not so black and white, nor are they as PMS-mood-swing-tinged either. He has pride, motivation, empathy, self awareness...I have watched him think things over, and then act. I'm SO HAPPY to play to those new characteristics to motivate his good behavior.

Behold - - the ghetto reward chart

Yes, that does say "poop on the potty", and yes, it is the weakest link on the star chart. He did however manage to get the requisite stars soon after that pic was taken. It was all he had left - - the only obstacle between him and his beloved "Toy Story". He came out of the bathroom, smirking.

"Mommy...i peed"
"Oh yeah? Good job" I played along - I knew he had done more than pee :)
"Yup. I peed on my potty and..." dramatic pause "I POOPED FOR TOY STORY TOY STORY YAYAYAYAYAYA" he screamed, pantless, jumping up and down "GOLD STAR GOLD STAR"

He was so thrilled, and I was so proud, that I insisted we go out and get Toy Story tonight (yeah, I know...in a few years I'll be posing the question "Where the HELL does he get this need for instant gratification...my god! The boy has no patience" and you can all remind me of the time I initiated the 8 p.m. run to Best Buy for a Disney movie I don't even like much.)

Call it bribery, call it positive reinforcement. I don't care. It is working, and we are all happy - - he is proud of himself. He helped pick the chores for this weeks chart:

I have to admit, it is sort of rigged. He is always good with his manners, LIKES cleaning, and he LOVES feeding the cats. But, the potty, good listening, and cleaning up toys are a challenge. As much as I want to encourage him to work on his struggles, I'm glad to be able to acknowledge and reward the chores and behaviors he does so well. Really - - how many 2 year olds do you know who like to clean the cabinets, dust, empty the dishwasher, and use the Swiffer wet jet???

My return!

2010-11-11T20:23:00.005-05:00

Hello friends!

Mama pasta has returned. I wish had some elaborate, dramatic, and captivating story (meaning...excuse) for being absent, but I don't. Life is cyclical, with highs and lows, ebbs and flows. The start of school always wipes me out. Usually at this point, I have gotten on my feet and ready to tackle the holiday concert season. Not the case, this year. The year started off with my darling boy breaking his leg at the very start of the school year. After being set free from that cast, we had an uneventful few weeks - until Monday, when he fell over his own beloved "Caddie" the stuffed monkey and broke his toe. Because it was the same leg that had just healed, he was put in a little walking cast in hopes that he will continue to walk and keep up the muscle tone he had just regained. Happy to report, so far so good. He is walking and running around again, sporting an awesome Black and Gold Steelers themed cast inscribed with "#86 will you marry my mama?".

Our fall was full of pumpkin patches, playgrounds, and Halloween cookies. I'm looking forward to Christmas with him. He doesn't actually know anything about Santa, or the traditions, but he LOVES Christmas lights, presents, and festivities. He must get that from his great-grandma :)

Potty training is in full swing, and is pretty low stress-I guess because I'm happy with his progress, and it isn't really topping my priority list. I've been more interested in taking advantage of his interest in learning his numbers, letters, shapes, and colors. He likes playing with his flash cards - he calls it practicing, and he is showing interest in violin. "Take a turn NOW mama?" he asks when my last private student leaves.

He still struggles with his temper and obedience, and I still struggle with utter exhaustion. But, there is time-out and coffee and we carry on.

Hey Officer Hottie - Want a French Fry?!?!?

2010-08-26T19:49:00.003-04:00

So I'm coming back from my local petsmart. It's nice out. Daniel has his window down, as do I, and we are rocking out to XM. Daniel has his nuggies and fries from Wendy's. We pass one police car and he gets excited.

"Lookie mama! Look at that. What's that?" He says
"A police car," I tell him "Say hello officer"
"Heeeeddddddooooo" he yells as the cop passes us.

We approach the intersection (the BIG one by my house with the REALLY long light...) and a second cop pulls up and we both miss the yellow and catch the red light.
"Oh mama lookie more!!" he says, pointing at the cop.
"Yup," I said absentmindedly "and that one is a hottie" (NOTE - a hottie with his window down)

"OH yeah oh yeah! Dat one is a hot - teeeeeee! Hiiiiii hottt-teeeee! HI HOTTIE!! Want a french fry?!?!?!" screams my child, AT the cop, as he attempts to throw fries out the window to him.

Then comes the slooowww head turn from the officer, who is mildly amused (?)

"Want - french FRYYYYYYYY!!!!?????" screams Daniel as he chucks another fry towards my open window. I am suddenly glad for D's bad aim and the sheer luck of me recently moving the car seat to the center.

I was an entirely new shade of red. I suddenly wished my child was LESS articulate. I kept trying to glance over to see if maybe he didn't hear? I mean, he was about 10 full inches away :-/

The light FINALLY changes and I attempt to get in front of him (Officer Hottie), knowing there was at least one more traffic light I could potentially have to sit through beside him if I didn't. I get in front of him - next light same thing - we caught the yellow and stopped for the red. I guess he was up for a laugh, cause he pulls from behind me, and gets in the turn lane next to me.

"Oh mama Looooookkkkk. Hi Hottie!! Hiiiiiiiii!" screams my child, this time adding his best siren imitation of "weeeeee ooooooohhhh weeee oooooooh"

Again, I get the slow head turn from Officer Hoty, as he peers at me over the top of his sunglasses. UNFORTUNATELY, it seemed to be more of a "what the hell" kind of look instead of "can I get your number" kind of a look. I detected a glimmer of a smile though ;-) The light changed, and sped off to my street (32 mph in a 35) as Daniel waved and yelled "Buh byeeee".

I guess Daniel's habit of repeating the last thing I say will never REALLY get old!

*Dedicated to Christine - my first college roommate, who would INTENTIONALLY break traffic laws in hopes of getting pulled over by policemen she deemed attractive*

A Free Spirited Afternoon

2010-06-13T09:54:00.007-04:00

Most of my Saturday came and went in a blur. It was 4 p.m. before I knew it, and time to get D from his Dad. We meet 'in the middle' of our two residences at the High High Country Store. I pulled in front of the new addition, the Bogati Bodega. I had just received a hateful text message from my ex for pulling into the parking lot 3 minutes late. That kind of thing gets under my skin and I felt my evening unraveling, as a sweaty, cranky toddler approached my car. There were no niceties, and he sped off before I even had the car door closed. I was about to pull out when I realized the car beside belong the guitar teacher at my school. I looked around for him, and saw him in front of the Bodega catching a smoke break. His band was playing at the tasting room. I wanted to stay, but I couldn't imagine a dog (I doggie-sat Stella this weekend) and a toddler in a wine tasting room would work - "Come on," he said "you're a free spirited kinda gal." I am???? He helped me unload the kid, dog, and diaper bag.

The tasting room is lovely, with a few couches, a large dining table, and several smaller tables. We claimed a spot on the couch, I got myself a glass of white, and some water for D. In the back of my mind, I was just waiting for it to all go to hell - but it didn't! Daniel and Stella wandered around, charming every person in the place. He clapped and cheered yelling "guitar! yay!" He held Stella's leash tight, and everyone in the place seemed to be fans of dogs (and toddlers!). After a few minutes, I felt the tension in my shoulders dissipate and my mind was at ease. Maybe it was the wine, or the maybe it was the unscheduled downtime...whatever it was, it felt good. As the band closed out their final set, the sky opened up and the rain poured down. Daniel was excited - so out we went, me in a dress and flip flops, him holding tight to the dog - running out to the car in downpour, splashing in every puddle we could find.

We climbed into the car, soaked and laughing...I guess when prompted, I am free spirited!

Daycare provider, take 3

2010-06-08T20:42:00.005-04:00

I hope to hold true to my tag line and that soon enough, I can claim "triumph" over childcare.

D's first sitter was my dear friend Ms. E. She is my dear friend who was (and still is) able to stay home with her daughter. As my maternity leave drew to a close, all I could think was how perfect it would be if D stayed with her. I had joked with her about it, but had no idea it would come to fruition. It was a match made in heaven, until we had to move away.

I moved closer to work - which is 45 miles from my previous residence and a seriously steep increase in cost of living. We were leaving behind D's father and his paternal grandmother who occassionaly cared for him. I was terrified about trying to find ANYBODY I could afford, let alone somebody who would actually be good for us. My wonderful friend Ms. E made a few calls, and found a friend of hers in the area who was recently 'retired' from a daycare center and is now staying home with HER daughter. For over a year it was basically a match made in heaven. But the spring brought us a rocky road, and ended in us parting ways abruptly. Long story short, D was no longer a good fit for their family. Discipline issues had returned.

D is now with Ms A, the mother of one of my students. She is a wonderful woman, in her 50's with a sincere love for D and his well being. He is an angel for her (of course) and is gleefully spoiled by being the only child under her care. She used to run a licensed day care with a head start program, so he is getting lots of structured learning activities. His behavior with me, however, has not improved...I would go so far as to say it has declined.

I'm being patient - as this has been a HUGE transition for him, and he asks often about his previous sitter and her family. He is also either getting a nasty sinus infection, or 2 year molars. Hard to tell. Regardless, it has been a rough week, and I'm exhausted. I'll be anxious to see how things go as my schedule at school thins down to nothing :-) I'm also excited that my sweet, loving, godmother/aunt has gotten us the 1-2-3 books! Soooo excited. I have heard from a few parents that it works. I'm hoping for some real-life examples, and some "if child does A, then parent does B" advice.

In all the chaos of the past week though, D has created his first painted masterpiece. He is SO in love with his creation. He insisted on carrying it down 3 flights of steps from daycare, held it in the care the whole way home, and only surrendered it to me for careful placement above the fire place. The medium is finger paint, done in red to celebrate "RED WEEK" at daycare. Enjoy!

Your Baby Can Read!

2010-05-27T19:07:00.005-04:00

subtitled "Accidentally Intoxicated on a Random Monday".

Okay, first of all, don't judge me! 1) Intoxicated is probably an exaggeration and 2) I was totally supervised. I couldn't decide which title had more "pull". Personally, I wanted to go with "Intoxicated" but since this is supposed to be my "Mama" blog, I'll try and keep the focus on the kid, and off the antics of my beautiful disaster of a life!

My friend Jenny (yes, the Jenny so often mentioned on mamapasta) had decided we'd be hanging out most of the week since her husband was in NJ for business. On Monday, she did me a huge favor by getting Daniel from the sitter's while I had a meeting at work. As expected, the meeting sucked. We met back at my place (insert beer #1) and decided it was too hot to cook. I also decided I was again a lightweight.

We packed up the baby, and went for dinner (insert beer #2). Somewhere along the way, I got a little wound up and a little silly - much to Jenny's amusement. The entire way home, we are giggling and joking. We were sitting at a red light, and Daniel yells to us - "car mama! pizza - pizza". We look over, and there is a Papa John's delivery car next to us. We starting laughing hard. "Mama!!! Pizza!!" He yells as he points. We look over at the guy and continue to laugh ourselves to tears (its a long light!). Through our squeals - Jenny exclaims "Your baby can READ!"

I too, have decided he can read. We don't order pizza often, and I know for a FACT we haven't had Papa John's in over month thanks to my food poisoning in April. What other rational explanation is there (after two beers!)? My baby can read :-)

I'm sure this will all leave you wanting more info on how EXACTLY one ends up tipsy on a Monday...perhaps I need to spawn a new 'baby free' blog??

Mother's Day Reflections

2010-05-10T19:48:00.012-04:00

Yesterday was (technically) my 3rd Mother's Day as a mama, but in actuality, it was our 2nd mother's day celebration. My first Mother's Day was nothing to write home about. It was the day Daniel's father decided to 'officially' start his new life outside of ours. Needless to say, at 5 weeks postpardom being suddenly thrust into MY new life as a single mom didn't seem to be cause for a celebration. I can't remember exactly what we (meaning my infant son and I) did - I know there was a lot of napping, and some Little House on the Prairie reruns. I can't recall the exact emotions of that first Mother's Day (thank GOD!)- but I remember thinking how this holiday would forever be ruined for me. I'm glad to say, I was wrong.

Sometime during the winter following that, I decided I wasn't going to have my holiday ruined. Along with some help from my dearest friends, a decision was made to make new and happy memories. I was barely scraping by financially, trying to deal with the increased cost of living and a one income budget, but I saved up for months to have a Mother's Day (and his 1 year portraits) professionally done. Jenny and her mom officially adopted me for Mother's day and we had a great lunch together, with words of encouragement from Jenny's mom, Kathy. The weather was beautiful, and after lunch, Daniel and I went outside, played trucks in the grass, and took dozens of photos. It was an awesome day, and the professional photos the following week were icing on the cake.

As Mother's Day rolled around again this year, I looked forward to it, knowing that after a long week, with many commitments, I would have my baby bear all to myself. This year for Mother's Day, I requested my cousin Dave to come over and attack my "Honey-Do List". I actually call it the "the shit that will not get done until I borrow somebodies man" list, but you get the idea...install curtain rods, hang bookshelves, put together toys from Christmas (yikes!), dismantle changing table...It was awesome! I can see the floor in my sons closet again, and thanks to the darkening shades, my mornings are no longer starting with the 545 sunrise. My evening was complete when Jenny and Joey continued the tradition of making happy memories with me. At my request, we dined on Pei Wei (take out...eating in really isn't that fun with a 2 year old!) and I got the most darling cards from my son, complete with red crayon inscriptions. I also took a nap, with no feelings of guilt, just entitlement! I have yet to book this year's photos, but I'm looking forward to it!

As I write this, I have such vivid and beautiful memories of the past 2 years - I remember the outfits we wore to lunch last year, and the roses from the waitstaff at the restaurant. I remember the cold rain during our photo shoot last year, and the sound of his laughter when he walked barefoot through the wet mud. I will always remember this year's card with the puppy, and strawberry jelly fingerprints. Just as important as these happy memories is how quickly and completely the ones from '08 have faded into nothingness. So here's to our '2nd annual mother's day CELEBRATION' - cheers!

Fell in love with him all over again on a random Monday night

2010-05-03T20:09:00.007-04:00

Sometimes you just don't have the words...but this is why I love him.

His socks don't match, and that was his idea.

It is not unusual for him to be without pants.

He oozes wonderment and happiness.

Kitty Bubbles

2010-04-20T20:44:00.003-04:00

D is obsessed with bubbles. He can't really blow bubbles. He CAN eat bubbles, lick the bubble wand, and spill the bubbles. The other day he was outside on the balcony playing. I had the door open, and was making dinner when I overheard the following:

CAT: Meeewoooowowww
D: catcat, catcat
CAT: oooooooowwww (bizarre guttural sound)
D: eat eat! EAT!!!! CATCAT EAT!!!!
CAT: (silence)
D: Gleeful giggles and slurping sounds then "mmmm, mmm, mmmmmmm"

I walk around the corner, and see my 30lb kid straddling the 20 lb cat, bubble wand in hand, trying to feed the kitty bubbles.

He didn't hear me coming around the corner, and when I said his name he jumped up. He starts wagging his finger at the cat "no no catcat. no eat!" With the toddler removed, the cat made a dash for safety.

My only guess is Daniel must like all the bubble solution he has licked up and wanted the kitty to have a taste too!

WARNING: not for the faint of heart...

2010-03-11T21:40:00.003-05:00

We officially survived our first "big boy" stomach virus. I actually thought it would miss us - the 'plague' as I will call it, hit his sitter's house over the weekend, so we stayed away Monday AND Tuesday. I was sure that between the hiatus and the copious amounts of lysol and handwashing, we were safe. We were not. Wednesday night, Daniel tagged along as I helped a friend with her recruiting night at her school (this is how we enroll students in band and orchestra). All was well, until as I was talking to a parent and holding Daniel - then it erupted. All over me, the floor, his beloved Monkey. It continued as I ran down the hall. He got sick again in the bathroom. It was awful. I peeled off his shirt, wiped up what I could and bolted for the car. It was a 15 minute drive home and I was NOT about to have vomit in my car. I got in and prayed that we would make it home and that I would not catch the plague.

Those of you that know me, know that I DO NOT handle throwing up. In fact, the last time I had the stomach bug, and Daniel was just a baby, I insisted on going to the hospital to get that sweet IV drug that makes you stop puking. In my own defense, the only other time I had the stomach bug as an adult was in college, and MANY of us ended up in the hospital, unable to rehydrate - so I have a bad track record with this stuff. I'd take a root canal over this crap any day. So it shouldn't be surprising that my prayer in the car was "hail mary full of grace, and our father who art in heaven, I promise to take such good care of Daniel if you just spare me. Glory be, AMEN"

We got home, and suddenly Daniel realized there was a second casualty in this - MONKEY. I'll spare you the gory details, but Monkey was not suitable to be around any humans. Daniel was upset, but took it like a man, got his second and third favorite lovies (Ottis the Otter, and Kitty the Lion) and climbed in to bed. I put Monkey in a lingerie bag, hoping the tag that said "Not a Toy" and "do not wash" wasn't really accurate. I crossed my fingers and tossed him in.

I got ready for the worst possible scenario. Diapers and wipes and extra PJ's were on stand by. Towels covered the floor with more close by. The trash can was empty and ready for action. I inflated the air mattress so I could camp out if I needed to. After about an hour and half of reading books and getting sick, he fell asleep. My fear of germs won out over my mommy instincts, and I hauled ass out his room for the safety of my room and my bed.

I got up a few times through the night with him, but by midnight, he was out for the night. He was amazing. Never cried or fussed - just stood up, got sick in the trash can, and went back to bed. At 6:30a.m., he was up but was willing to snuggle on the air mattress with me for an hour. By 730 he was up for the day, and wanted milk. Sounded like a bad idea, but he insisted. To my surprise, he kept it down. Then came some juice, and 1 tiny square of toast. Guess we got the really fast moving version of this nasty bug.

By 10:00 am, we were both exhausted, him from being sick, and me from hunger and dehydration - too afraid to eat. We put on some Blues Clues DVD's and napped on the couch until almost 2pm.

Things are going well - and my insane hand washing and lysol-spraying continue. Tomorrow will be back to work for me and back to daycare for Daniel. We survived - and so did Monkey!!! To runs through the gentle cycle and a good toss on low heat - he's as good as new!

Mama's Pretty

2010-03-07T20:29:00.003-05:00

Despite my claims that my son is the best baby swimmer, and the funniest, and the cutest, and the smartest, I can't really pass him off as the most verbal child. He is well within the 'normal range' and is picking up words faster and faster, but he has more "Danielisms" than real English. Recently though, if you listen more closely, he is spitting out real words (mostly commands, shouted at you) "Come here! Sit down!" etc. Sometimes we have no clue what he is saying, so we just make up the rest of the conversation.

This evening Aunt Jenny came over to have her practice hair and make up done - ironically, the make up lady is the mother of 1 year old twins, and the hair lady a nanny. With all people being baby friendly, we had a really good evening and Daniel dealt well with not being the center of attention for several hours.

After the professionals left, I was uploading pics and Aunt Jenny took on the task of getting him ready for bed.

"Do you like my hair, Daniel? Do you think its pretty?" she asked
"Mama preeeey" he said
How sweet! Jenny yelled in to see if I heard him
"Thank you baby bear!" I yelled back
"Welcome mama!" he said

What wonderful new words - Pretty AND welcome! Such a change from "mine...NOW!"

(and just for the record - Aunt Jenny looked stunning and truly lovely!)

An answer to the rhetorical question...

2010-02-22T22:22:00.004-05:00

...but first, a word on how my son kicks ass at baby swim class. Yes, I just used "kicked ass" when describing what went on at a baby swim class. It is not like the boy with the bone disease is going to be the star quarterback, so really, I'll take any shining athletic moment I can! He was awesome - below you will find a list of the things he was the BEST AT:
1) sliding off the edge
2) jumping off the edge but ONLY on my mommy cue
3) singing wheels on the bus
4) blowing bubbles
5) chasing balls
6) chasing and gathering rubber ducks
7) laying on his back
8) kicking
9) splashing other people
10) voluntarily sticking face in water
Basically, he was amazing. He even got to be the "demo" baby.

And now, onto the rhetorical question. Nearly every day of my life involves a considerable amount of time looking for my keys. I have thrown my keys in the trash, left them in the door, and lost them in Nashville at ???? It just seems that when it comes to putting my keys somewhere, my mind is already way ahead and on to the next task, or else I am doing my purse/briefcase/violin/diaper bag/grocery bag/baby/stuffed monkey/sippy cup/cell phone juggling act, and have lost my keys in the process of not dropping the baby.

Ever since I can remember, I have always asked Daniel where my keys are. I don't even realize I say it, because I say it every flippin' time I try to leave the house. "Where's mama's keys Daniel?" ..."Daniel, have you seen mommy's keys?" Obviously, as a baby, he never answered, and most of his speaking life, he has ignored me, or acted like he didn't understand the words coming out of my mouth.

This morning he is watching Blues Clues and having his morning banana. I'm trying to load the car, and my arms are full. "Where are my keys?" I yelled. Calmly and nonchalantly came "right there mama". I was stunned. In 22 months, I have never heard my question answered. He was listening? He processed? I thought it was funny, until I turned around and saw he was actually pointing at my keys, with his eyes still on Blues Clues, banana in hand, leaning against the couch. I followed his chubby pointed finger, and there, behind my boots, where my keys.

I ran over and smothered him with kisses. I got a little nuzzle in return then he pushed me away (I was in front of the TV...) "Shoe-ies, mama. Right there," I looked at him funny because we both already had shoes on..."Keys shoe-ies," He says again, this time with just a hint of exasperation, as if my questioning look that made him repeat himself somehow inconvenienced him. "oh, I get it - you're telling me my keys were behind my shoes?" I asked. He nods yes, I pick up my keys, and he claps and yells and OVER enthusiastic "yay!". Great...a patronizing 22 month old with a flair for the dramatic... (I cant imagine where who he got that from?)

Snowpocalypse II

2010-02-08T20:31:00.004-05:00

Blizzard of 2010, Snowpocalyse, Snowmagedon, Snowtorius B.I.G - call it what you will (preferably NOT the later) but we are buried. I'm going with Snowpocalpse II, because I was calling the 19" we got in December the original Snowpocalypse.

I don't ever get homesick, but I have to admit this winter makes feel like I'm right back in Western PA, and I like it. As a child, my cousin Davey and I were tossed out of doors by my grandmother in every sort of weather. 100 degree heat? Stay in the shade, get a drink. Blustery winds? Zip up your jacket. Rain? Stay on the patio (it had a roof). Blizzard? Put on 12 layers of clothes, thick socks, grocery bags on your feet, moon boots, mismatched outwear gathered from the basement and closet, 2 pairs of gloves (one snug fitting, one waterproof) add at least 1 scarf, a pair of earmuffs, and a hat...and get out of the house.

To be honest, I don't think we ever complained about being out in the snow. We always had sleds and our imaginations. I remember one day we just sat there, eating fistfuls of snow until we swore it tasted like blueberries. We would build speed bumps to fly over in our sleds and build snow forts, which we favored over boring old snowmen.

This was what the winters of my childhood were made of, and I hope Daniel's are as memorable. I adapted the concept of layers - snug pants, then fleece, then a waterproof layer. He got his thick socks, but I spared him the plastic bags. He got gloves, a hat, and a hood. He was sweating. Guess he did get my thick blood! Out we went, in a blizzard. He LOVED it. He did not want to come in, even after his gloves were soaked, his hands were red, and his eyelashes heavy with snowflakes.
The next day, once the snow was falling lightly, we went out twice. Today, with no snow falling, we walked through what sidewalks were cleared to watch the "dumpy" (dump truck) and the plow move snow.

He helped me shovel-he insisted actually. He moved his fair share of snow in his toy dump truck. He scraped ice from the rear bumper of the car. He would get so brave, running into the snow, until it came up to his ankles. Then came the frantic cries of "help! stuck! help! mommy mommy" I tried showing him that he wasn't stuck, but that he just had to try harder. He flopped down on his butt. "UH oh- Stuck" Now he was stuck, because bending at the waist isn't really an option with 3 pairs of pants on. My job was to plop him back on the path, on his feet.

I hope these are his happy winter memories, because these are my new winter mommy memories.

Strong-Willed, Part 2

2010-02-02T20:28:00.002-05:00

I finished the book. And when I say finished, I mean I skipped the chapters on siblings and adolescences and ADHD. I found everything in it to be good information, but, I feel like it was really lacking in some practical applications. Like, do this for that, and instead this try that. I appreciated the he accepts that spanking, even done appropriately and in a loving way, is not for every child. (spanking was my major issue with the "other book". My excitement over this part of the book quickly diminished when no alternative consequences were offered.

I will likely reread the parts I found applicable, and mull it over again, seeing how I can get the application of this process down. If nothing else, my changed attitude towards his willful nature made the read worthwhile.

On a lighter note, toddler bed transitioning is going well. Gets a little better every night. Tonight, no 'suppernanny' process of sneaking out - I just left after stories. A few minutes later, I hear paper rustling. I peak in, and he is reading a HUGE Blues Clues book - laying down, trying to hold up a hardback book of about 100 pages above his face. There he is, "reading" in complete darkness...silly boy!

Strong-Willed Child, part 1

2010-01-31T21:22:00.008-05:00

I have come to the conclusion that I am the parent of a "strong-willed child". I have met many other children D's age. He is much more extroverted, social, and independent than other kids. Even on the rare occasion that he cries for me, he only wants a quick squeeze to reassure him. If I scoop him up to comfort him, I get the baby wiggles, as if to say "geez mom, not in front of my friends!" If you have met me, you are not surprised I have produced such a child. If you had the "pleasure" of having to be around me as a small child (XOXO aunt shell, aunt dana, aunt jodi...) then I believe you're a throwing your head back and laughing at karma.

I have been struggling with him on some issues since he was about 15 months. A book was recommended to me, with an emphasis on biblical parenting. I WANT to raise my son with his heart open and ready for God, but I could not find much in this book that I could agree with, let alone implement. It left a bad taste in my mouth, and I sort of gave up on the idea of any more books. I set out to be consistent, patient, and more firm. Well, that's not working, or else I'm still lacking something with my parenting skills.

My friend's mom recommended Dr. Dobson's "The New Strong-Willed Child". I was resistant because of my experience with the other christian parenting book. This week I stopped making excuses. I can read it, and chose to disagree, no harm done. So far, I am pleasantly surprised (because the first book was so bad?). I have yet to delve in very far, but I have read enough to have an important change of heart:

D's strong will is not a bad thing. All kids have different temperaments, each with its own blessings. His strong will and his strong spirit are two different things. His will can be tamed without taking away his spirit, the things I love about him - his independence, humor, determination. That was sort of profound for me. I am hopeful and on my way to grateful - moving away from feeling like I'm the ONLY person whose child behaves like this.

I think it is very popular book, so as I get through it, I'll do a few posts with my 'review' and hopefully, in the end, I'll also have some positive results to share as well! If you've read the book - please leave a comment. If you think your little angel is strong-willed, I'd love to hear about that too!

Heading towards toddler bed triumph

2010-01-27T19:38:00.006-05:00

If you happen to also be my friend on facebook, you may have been following our struggle to the toddler bed. Im not much for submersing myself if advice books and websites, but I did a little researching prior to committing to the toddler bed.

1) "Don't move the baby based on needing a crib. Many parents find it would have been easier to buy a new crib"

Oops. Daniel ate his crib. He also shook it so furiously, so many times, he stripped the screws and it was unsafe. I'm too poor to buy another (better constructed crib). Plus, the toddler bed I found on sale, with free shipping is TOO cute.

2) "Get your child excited about it"

He was REALLY excited, until he showed me how he was going to go "nigh nigh" and bashed his forehead off the headboard. Oops...again.

3) "wait until you child has the cognitive skills to understand the bed has imaginary boundaries"

Ummmm...isn't that what the guardrails are for? Plus, the words 'mummy, I understand the boundaries of this new sleeping arrangement' are not really in his vocab.

Well I guess I'm 0 for 3. I did however, have one thought that was my deciding factor. If I do it now, in the winter - it will be DARK during his bed time - and he wont be able to see his toys! Truly, I had hoped it'd be so dark, he wouldn't even be able to stumble out of bed - or if he did, he wouldn't be able to find the door. (is that messed up, or genius?)

The first night was pretty awful. He was overtired and had a bad attitude. The process was cry, leave bed, mom retrieves, repeat. Took about 40 minutes. He woke up between sleep cycles at midnight, and I had to return him to bed. Same thing 40 minutes later. To top it off, he was up at 630 a.m. (almost an hour early) and was not happy.

Tonight, I went into battle prepared. Bedtime routine started right on schedule. I dimmed the lights for his bath, and lit one of my spa candles. I put on the SPA music channel. Lavender sleepy time bubbles and shampoo, followed by the lavender bedtime lotion. In bed at 7 for stories. I was feeling optimistic when he even laid down to listen!

I used the supernanny technique to ease out of the room. I thought we did it, until the door clicked shut, and the crying began. After a few minutes, I realized its just the door completely shut that was freaking him out for some reason. This time I left it cracked. I just spent the last few minutes putting him in bed 5 or 6 more times - but it was all without a fuss. He would stand up, go to the door, I snapped my finger and pointed - and back to bed he went.

An hour later, he is in there, asleep. I'm going to hold off on closing the door though! Hope tomorrow works out just as well...I do work late, so I know the schedule will be a little off. Third time is a charm?

A lion in the bath

2010-01-17T21:12:00.005-05:00

I finally broke down today and removed the Christmas decorations and the tree from our home. Daniel was in a good mood, and sort of happy to be left alone to toddle around and play while I worked. We had a few time outs for stories together and to play some "zoom zoom" (cars) but he spent a good portion of the morning entertaining himself - apparently by hiding objects around the apartment for me to find. Below is a list of what I have found so far. I have to charge up my camera to document these strange findings.

1) Stuffed lion in his bathtub
2) Keys in my boot (a favorite from when he first became mobile)
3) Ride on school bus, grocery cart, and push toy in my bathroom
4) Tupperware in my hamper
5) Baby lotion on the built in bookshelf
6) Tennis ball in the cat food self feeder (with the lid on, so it was a surprise)
7) Spoons (clean, must have been removed from dishwasher) in the pots and pans cupboard
8) Barney DVD shoved underneath the dvd player (probably trying to play it)

DRUM ROLL...MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE, AND THE FIRST THING I FOUND......

9) 2 bowling pins in the drawers underneath his bathroom sink.

I can't imagine exactly what he was thinking - except maybe he saw me shuffling about putting things away, and he was trying to imitate me. Whatever his plan was, it certainly made me laugh. Now he is sleeping soundly, and I am honestly thinking about hiding MY stuff in his toy bins as he sleeps - not sure, but the joke may be lost on him.

He was THAT kid...

2010-01-12T18:52:00.008-05:00

(oops! From Jan 11 - forgot to post!)

We have all seen it - and most of us have stared. That kid in the store. The kid who is wailing and crying. The kid who you KNOW cannot be consoled. The kid that makes you remember to take your birth control. The kid that childless people whisper about, and other moms look at with a more knowing look. Today, the store was Super Target, and the kid, was mine....almost.

Daniel gets burned out after 4:30. He just wants to go home, play with his toys, eat, and sleep. I avoid errands on weeknights, because I know it will take endless energy on my part to make it a pleasant trip. Today I weighed the odds - do I take him to the store to get the milk (not a drop in the house) or do I roll the dice and try and put him to bed with Tang...You'd think it would be a no-brainer. Get the milk. BUT, Daniel woke up an hour early, was testy at daycare, and still had his diaper in a knot even after a 3 hour nap.

Starts off well - princess parking near the front. Holding hands to cross the parking lot. We had just hit the entry way when he asks for "Keh-Uh". Keh-Uh, is his beloved, disease-ridden stuffed monkey. Keh-uh doesn't usually go in to the store, because he only goes to daycare now for nap.

I explained that "keh-uh" was in the car, and he could have him after we got milk. He asked again, and again, but before I could say "no", he started to fly off the handle. I thought about going back, but we have been working to stop the tantrums he uses to try and get his way. It would have been an easy walk back to the car, but my desire for consistency on the tantrum issue won out. I dragged him out of the doorway, and back outside. I talked - he listened. He processed the info, then decided to cry and scream about it. There we stood, working it out, crying and screaming, outside of target. I was in the mommy-zone! I hear from behind me "good job mom!". I look up and some woman gives me the thumbs up. It took almost five minutes, but he dried up his tears, apologized to me, gave a kiss, and took my hand to proceed.

I was proud of myself for 1) getting him in the door and 2) staying calm and being cheerful with him after his little spell. He goes to investigate the motorized cart, and goes back into Gremlin mode when he is told no. Deep breath. This time, we found a nice little naughty corner by the oranges.

Making our way to the milk was no easy task. We made it up to the checkout line, when a nice woman with limited english tries to tell me my 'daughter' has stopped crying because I am no longer making 'her' stand out in the cold. Thanks lady-great insight. Then, in line the person who threw out the 'good job mom' went passed us. She smiled and waived, and said "you have to pick your battles, and win them when you do, right?" I just smiled and thought to myself how true that is.

The nice cashier gave me my stuff in two bags, so Daniel could carry one (which made him soooo happy!). We are walking out, hand in hand, with Daniel swinging his little bag, ear to ear smile. I guess we were the center of attention that day, because a third person stopped us on the way out - "He is so cute! I can't believe his so happy now after all that yelling by the oranges. Whatever you said it must have worked." I thanked her, and told Daniel to wave bye bye to her, and he obliged.

I left feeling sort of happy. How did these strangers know that I needed their words today? I don't live in a small-town - people will rarely even hold a door for you, let alone speak to you. Somehow though, my random stranger support group made my day :-) Maybe they knew that one dirty look would have redirected my mom-discipline into "Real Housewives of Atlanta" rage towards them....

A new cook in the kitchen...

2010-01-09T20:14:00.003-05:00

My son suddenly has a new fascination with cooking. He has always followed me around the kitchen, usually getting underfoot, trying to climb into the dishwasher, getting out pots to bang on, etc. Recently he has been reaching and grunting for me to pick him up. I have been reinforcing 'words', so now I get "uh uh uh uh uh UP uh uh uh UP". At first I thought he just wanted me, or something on the counter, but after a few of these moments, I realized he wanted up to see what I was doing, and to help.

I got out our step stool, and he climbed up, thrilled to finally be at the counter. At first I just let him have a bowl of water and a spoon to play with. I mixed, he mixed. I tasted, he tasted. The next time, I let him help. We made chicken satay - and he stirred the sauce together with a mini whisk. So cute! Then he helped me wash the broccoli, shaking the colander under the running water.

Now, every time I cook, he wants the stool out. I have put a little set together of plastic utensils that he can get out of the lower cupboard himself. Today we made french toast. He helped beat the egg and soak the bread. He was not happy that he couldn't be at the stove, but he understands that its hot (I always say "not safe for Daniel", which he understands as something different than just "no", so I get less attitude from him). He moved aside and practiced flipping his pretend french toast safely away from the stove top.

In addition to the helping with the satay and french toast, Daniel has also been the 'sprinkler of oregano' on our garlic bread, 'stirrer of oatmeal', and 'cheese grating supervisor' (supervisor since I deemed that task also "not safe for Daniel").

I am charmed with his interest in big boy tasks - putting stuff in the trash can, unloading the dryer, unloading the dishwasher, and now cooking!

MAMA PASTA HOLIDAY FRENCH TOAST:

Beat 2 eggs together with about 1/8 cup of your favorite 'seasonal coffee creamer'. We love the gingerbread.

Fry in pan with butter ('tis the season!)

Use cookie cutter to cut them into Christmas trees or gingerbread men (we have tiny gingerbread men cookie cutters, and Daniel likes to dunk their heads in syrup)

Top with powdered sugar, or syrup, etc.

I love you more today...

2009-12-28T20:37:00.004-05:00

I want to meet the person who made it through the first two years BEFORE the adjective "terrible" came to mind. Personally, I believe I am trying to survive the " I'll show you lady - how about terrorizing, traumatic, testing all before 2" phase. I have said before how we breezed through the first year. Months 12-18 were mildly interesting. I am finding 18-24 months to be incredibly difficult.

One moment, I am confronted with a sweet, docile, toddling, babbling boy who is so in love with the world around him. The next day, I'm furiously googling for a therapist who will take patients who are babies 'cause I am CONVINCED he needs one! Yesterday was a bad day. He came home from Christmas festivities with his dad and his family. I had to get him out of bed well before 7 am, took about a 30 minute nap, and probably had a lot of excitement. By 3pm when we got home, I was left with a volatile child - frustrated with his own exhaustion and unable to control his emotions (not that he has much control of them under normal circumstances). At one point, he was throwing such a screaming tantrum, my neighbors came over to see if I was okay. My neighbor said she was worried from his crying he hurt himself (she knows about our bone disease) but she said when I answered the door - she could tell by the look on my face that HE was fine and I was the one suffering. When he finally went to bed (early, at 6:40pm) I collapsed on the couch, mentally and physically exhausted.

Its hard to let a day like that go, but you have to. You can't wake the next day, pissed at a toddler. You can't begin the day dreading a repeat performance. But its not easy. It seems bizarre that I consciously have to "let it go", but I do. Maybe its because I do this job alone, and no one else is here to bear the brunt of any tantrums or bad days - its always me. After a rough day, I just take a few minutes to be pissy about it, then its done. After a rough day, I always make it a point to find something new to love about him. Today, I had to find two things, because he really drove me crazy yesterday :-)

So, here it is - you screamed until your head nearly exploded and kicked your feet on the floor yesterday - but I love you more today because....

1) You knock on the wall and say "mama...mama..." in the morning when you wake up instead of crying to get out of your crib.

2) When we read together, you always snuggle your little head against mine in the exact same spot.

Love ya peanut!

Blizzard 09

2009-12-21T21:16:00.005-05:00

I wish I could say "can't believe its been so long since I posted" but I believe it. I'm not the least bit surprised at myself. Things have sort of been one little tornado after another. Nothing life-altering, just enough to keep me running, then time to catch my breath to only run some more. Still waiting for the tornado that will actually sweep us (condo and all!) off to Oz!

D and I just rode out a different sort of a storm - the DC blizzard of '09! I was so swamped with work, I didn't even know there was going to be flurries, let alone a crippling storm until the morning of! It started around 9pm on Friday, and stopped snowing early Sunday - leaving about 22" of snow behind. We woke up Saturday to near whiteout conditions. After a big breakfast and some playtime, D showed interest in investigating this white stuff. I started shoving him into layers (think Christmas story) and forced upon him the size 2T-5T mittens and hat that completely eclipsed his vision unless I tugged up on the top.

At first, he loved the snow drifts and flakes - this was because we live on the 2nd story of 3 story garden-style building. He was getting the best of both worlds - the blizzard, snow drifts, and a roof. Our steps were treacherous - so I threw our sled down, then carried him down. He walked out into the snow...gave it a few seconds of contemplation, then screamed as if being stabbed by ever little flake. It was pretty funny. He ran for cover, re-evaluated the situation, gathered some courage and went back out to continue his investigation. He was so cute - kept looking at me and yelling "ma! Ma! MA!" pointing around to make sure I was seeing what he was seeing. Then "ma? Ma? MA?!?!" wanting an explanation - a word. I told him again it was "snow", which of course comes out his mouth "no".

He spent a few minutes visiting my neighbors who were out - pointing and yelling "no" in case they needed an explanation of the white stuff. He got pretty irritated when he saw our car buried. "uh oh" "UH OH" I assured him it was okay, and he shuffled off to go back up to the comfort of playing in the snow piles under our roof.

We ventured out to play on Sunday - which was nice for him since the snowfall had stopped, and there was a narrow path on our sidewalk with the snow on each side nearly up to his chest. Armed with his beach bucket and tools, he "helped" dig out our car until he deemed a nap to be the better option while my friend and I finished the chore.

Oh, and if you're wondering how our sledding adventure went - it didn't. I forgot he has been afraid of it since he peed in it a few weeks ago. (we were air drying a little diaper rash!)

6 months and counting

2009-10-19T20:15:00.002-04:00

I mentioned early that my friend Gayle (of Oprah and Gayle fame) told me that every other year is a good one with young kids, and you just learn to love them in between. For a few days, I thought I was off the hook! I thought we were on a 6 month rotation - but alas, we are not.

We had about 9 days of AH-MAY-ZING baby behavior. So sweet! So pleasant, so fun! He was starting to say please and thank you and was transitioning so well between playtime, clean up time, time to leave, time to eat... Those days have come to a screeching halt, and I am back to counting the days until he turns two. I swear, I am looking forward to the 'terrible twos' - anything to get me out of the 'my child is a crazed, flesh eating, tantrum throwing, impatient, and self centered' one a half year old phase.

Within the span of three days, he learned "mine". He started saying "no". He started saying "no, mine!" in glorious harmony. He has gotten rougher with his little buddy at daycare, and his tantrums have gotten very physical, very abrupt, angry, and frequent. Today, I felt like a complete and utter failure as a mother. I picked him up from daycare and he flew into a total rage. Nothing helped (distractions, force, tricks, toys...). There was biting, kicking, thrashing, and clinging to the car. If I wasn't on my way BACK to work, I wold have cried my eyes out with him.

Im not sure where we are going wrong. I am consistent. I do not give in to his tantrums (every book says they will lessen if the child doesn't get his way). I also pick my battles. However, the battle to leave daycare is non-negotiable. The battle to not hit or bite me is non-negotiable. I am sick of the 'its a normal phase' crap too. I know that, but it still has to get under control.

So, here I am, getting ready to dive into my three favorite parenting books - "The Everything Guide to Tantrums", "What to Expect, the Toddler Years", and "the complete single parent". I have decided to attack it this time like a teacher ;-) I am making making note cards to laminate. I shall put my parenting tips and tools on paper! I shall carry them with me to study at red lights! And, the next time he terrorizes me at Target, and I can look down at my note cards and remember that leaving him in the display of pack and plays will not, in the long run, be effective.

I think my first note card with address the no sharing issue. The front will read:

Your child is egocentric, self-centered, and impulsive. Congrats - he's developing normally.

The back will list all the techniques for dealing with that (when I figure it out!).

My next card will be my friendly "naughty corner" tips from Supernanny (although, thanks to repetition, I pretty much have that down, and thank goodness its still pretty effective!)

I will continue my cards, and hopefully keep my sanity! I know tomorrow, for at least the first 10 minutes of the day, when in his eyes, I can do no wrong, I will not be an epic failure of a mom.

How to make a toddler stationary

2009-10-12T10:24:00.003-04:00

In just a few easy steps, you to can have a child that is essentially glued in place. For this situation, I used a cell phone, however, I believe any 'forbidden' item that can be attached to a wall will work.

1) dangle cell phone in front of child
2) lure him to desired location
3) plug cell phone into the wall
4) allow child to handle forbidden item-watch and enjoy

This photo was taken 4 minutes after he was lured to the chair. This is the longest amount of time he has spent sitting (unrestrained) since learning to walk on his cast. 4 minutes of mommy heaven. Enough time to pee AND wash my hands!!!

Boo boo part 2 (also known as advice from the dairy aisle)

2009-10-08T22:23:00.004-04:00

I think my last blog post jinxed my poor sweet baby. He got his cast on Friday and fumbled around for two days, figuring out how to make his little Frankenstein leg work. By Sunday, he agreed to sit and crawl across the ceramic tile and to avoid the marble front of the fireplace all together. I felt a little better when he got that much figured out, but the running around outside still made me edgy - and rightfully so.

10 days into the cast, he tripped and fell. The sitter said he cried a bit, and then wouldn't walk after that. He would stand, but no walking.

Our wonderful sitter was concerned - but she couldn't imagine him breaking a leg while already in a cast. I couldn't believe it either, but, I also doubted that he suddenly decided to be complacent and sit down and play quietly.

After a trip to the ER that night, and then a trip back to his ortho specialist, he was diagnosed with a small fracture in his femur. His below-the-knee cast was cut off, and replaced with a long cast ending at the very top of his thigh. We did get lucky though; our buddy in the cast room hooked us with a waterproof cast without the extra cost. We also got lucky on our way out the door, when the doctor realized he would be on vacation when Daniel was scheduled to get his cast off. After a bit of negotiating, he knocked a week off - yay! Only 3 weeks of peg leg toddler fun!

His new cast has drawn attention, since it is bigger, and since it is red and blue with giant white stars (NOT my choice...the guy who put it on wanted to match the cast to Daniel's outfit). I have been approached by complete strangers every time we have been in the grocery store since he broke his leg.

It always starts off the same....

STRANGER: "oh no! What happen to your baby's leg?"

ME: "he fell down"

STRANGER: "and broke his leg? did he fall off of something?"

ME: "No, actually he has a genetic condition. His bones are more fragile because of defective collagen"

STRANGER "Oh thats too bad! Poor baby! Do you think milk or extra calcium would help?"

Then I'm forced to explain why they're an idiot, when the entire time I WISH I SAID:

ME "My GOD! You have just saved my son and thousands of others from years of suffering. Clearly, NO ONE has thought of that until you just did...amazing, since we're standing in the f'ing dairy aisle. You are a genius. Please take your findings to the OI foundation IMMEDIATELY so we can finally cure this disease. After that, nominate yourself for a Nobel Prize"

I mean, seriously?!?!?!? What part of "genetic defect" made you think cheese and yogurt was the way to go? AND, you really thought dairy was a cure-all, do you think his leg would be broken now?!?!? Today in the store, a teenage boy saved his mother from me spurting out some horribly rude reply. She was going through the usual questions, and right when I thought she was going to say something stupid about milk and calcium, her skater/punk teenage son who had been giving Daniel high fives interupts her and says "dude, that kinda sucks, huh buddy? Guess you should stay off a skateboard when you get bigger". The mom looked mortified, but, I however, enjoyed his completely logical, appropriate, and non-dairy related suggestion. I told the kid he was right, and scooted away before the yogurt lecture could begin!

Sounds like a plan - no skateboarding so things don't suck. I love it!!!

Running with scissors

2009-09-29T00:03:00.005-04:00

Running with scissors would be safer than what my child does. My child runs with a broken leg in a cast. He runs with his Frankenstein boot on one foot, and his Nike shock on the other. It drives me crazy! We are only 3 days into this fracture, and my blood pressure is up. Way up.

It seems my son has either re-injured an old boo boo, or he has not been allowing it heal properly. The original break was not casted, because it was so small, it couldn't be seen. So, we played it by ear knowing if he continued to have a problem with it, we could do another xray and would be able to see the new bone growth if it was a break. Daniel did really well, and I assumed he did NOT have a break. After about three weeks of normal behavior, the limp returned! Off we went, back to our fabulous ortho for xrays. The doctor saw the fracture in some state of healing and said it was up to me about casting. Based on his past behavior, I decided to just get it in a cast to give this thing a chance to heal properly.

We picked out a nice 'Carolina Blue' and went with traditional fiberglass (no waterproof this time). He sat there so nicely, watching his leg get bundled up in cotton and cast. It made me sad that he's already accepted this as normal. The minute the last piece of fiberglass is on, he says "done done! down! down!" and he is off. Off and RUNNING. My child is running on a broken leg with a cast that is not even dry. He runs down the hall, peeking in doors (sorry HIPA violations!) and finally gets to the end of the hall, where his doctor is. "Done done!" he says, waving bye bye. That is his way of saying "I prefer not to have to wait for you to come back and check on me. Mom knows the drill, we're leaving". He gives and gets his "high fives", and I get the "we'll bill the copay or catch you next time!" and he drags me out the door.

At home, the real fun begins. Tripping as his feet 'stick' to the carpet. Falling as he regains his balance. Flying head first and biting the dust because his upper body went he faster than his new, heavier, left foot. He heads for the kitchen, and nearly does a split, as we both realize, he has no traction on the tile. I am sweating from chasing him. Repeat this process about 60 times, and that was my weekend :)

He has mastered walking, and almost mastered running. I let him fall today and skin his knee. I felt, badly at first, but he needs to figure out his limits so he can be safe. There was no comprise on the tile floor. He has learned to stop where the carpet ends, to sit down, and crawl across it - and I am proud of him. Now if only he would agree to sit and do puzzles all day....

Visiting "the old guy"...

2009-08-30T22:26:00.004-04:00

...and by 'old guy' I mean my Dad. And by the way, am I the only person that has family unwilling to commit to some form of "grandma" and "grandpa"? My mom signs cards "Grandma D'Lux". Daniel doesn't know that many vowels. My dad, although he is the appropriate age to be a grandfather, still thinks he is too young. But he likes being called 'old guy'. Whatev.

My dad is staying at a VA hospital right now. He is (was?) a non-compliant diabetic. He is staying there to complete a work program, have his diet and meds strictly monitored, etc. So far it has been a really good thing for him. For the first time since I can remember, he is taking care of his diabetes appropriately. The wing he stays in is filled mostly with vets who are recovering from substance abuse or who have some sort of manageable mental illness. Some of them are sort of sad, and remind you of people you would find in a less than wonderful nursing home. Some are very haggard, others just a little weathered. Most are 50-60, but a few younger guys passed by.

I had taken the baby there once before to visit, and he was pretty shy and was afraid. But today was a beautiful day so we stayed outside. Several guys were with my dad, anxiously waiting for us to arrive. Apparently they had all heard about him from my dad and were excited to meet us. Suddenly this group of guys who were sitting around chain smoking are now yelling at each other to "put that shit out" around the baby. Guys in wheelchairs and scooters whose eyes were cast down were now coming over to see if the baby would let them get close, or if he was afraid of their wheels. My son chased after them going 'brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" and they all laughed into fits of coughing.

They all waited for the baby to warm up to them then went in for their "high fives". One of them who is friendly with my dad insisted on playing ball with him. It was so funny to see them chase after the baby, so worried he'd hit his head on the picnic table, or fall on the sidewalk.

They all had stories to relay about their own grandkids, and they all had their bits of advice: "thats good - give him strawberries instead of all that candy and cookies". "Teach him to hold hands in the street". They all cracked up when the baby would flash his big cheesy grin and giggle at them.

It was a fun afternoon. Hopefully some seeds of respect have been planted in my son, and hopefully he brightened the day for few very important people. We left such an impression, that we were invited back to "jam" on Saturday. I hear there is karaoke involved....

Adventures in a plastic playland

2009-07-16T21:34:00.002-04:00

Recently my son attended a birthday party at chic-fil-a. He quickly became completely fixated with the playland. He was a man on a mission - he refused chicken nuggets and cake all to be in the playland. Leaving resulted in the most major tantrum - complete with hitting and biting.

I guess he needs some desensitization therapy. Today we were invited to meet up with my friend Erica and her daughter Eileen (aged 3 and in LOVE with Daniel) at McDonalds. Perfect! Post-work snack for me and a playland desensitization therapy!

Let me set the scene.

90 degrees, high humidity. The sun directly over head, heating up the playland. My kid-already dirty and sweaty from a day full of play, ready to tackle this adventure. Mom-less dirty but also sweaty in a denim skirt and sandals.

The kids are playing nicely and Daniel is crawling up the slide a foot or so and then sliding down on his own. Eileen takes off for the enclosed spiral staircase to the top - Daniel follows. I allow him to go, thinking he will chicken out. Suddenly - Daniel takes off at full speed, my sandal falls off, and I'm losing ground! He gains the edge, gets to the top and goes crazy with glee. He is pounding the Plexiglas and smooshing his face on it. I am hunched over trying to maneuver over some plastic bench at the top. Then it hits me 1) I smell poop, and 2) there is no way in HELL I'm going down that scary twisty slide with a 15 month old with OI on my lap. I wouldn't even do it by myself! I hate twisty slides! But I'm trapped like a gerbil in this plastic fiasco, with the smell of poop gagging me - and since my only company in was 3 and under, I had to be the adult, and retrieve my child. Thank god he found going down the steps as fun as going up. We made it down without a fight. Because he was so hot, I was also able to lure him out of the playland with his sippy cup of ice water without a battle.

For the record, I think this brings the score for the week to baby 6, mommy 1 (but mine was a hard fought battle!).

Every other year...

2009-07-14T21:54:00.004-04:00

A friend once told me every other year of childhood is a good year, and you just learn to love them in
the years in between. (Okay, so my 'friend' is Gayle, of "Oprah and Gayle" fame, and when I say "told me" I guess technically I heard it on her XM radio show....but whatev. Oprah and Gayle are my friends, they just doesn't know it yet.)

I agree. I think I am living that. When talking to other parents, I used to hear how lucky I was- "oh he is so good!" and "he's such an easy baby" . And it is true! Looking back on his first year, he was AMAZING - always slept well, transitioned from my room to crib perfectly, weaned himself to a bottle, then to sippy cups, always ate well, always liked to nap, he enjoyed going to daycare, NEVER had stranger anxiety, gave his pacifier up on his own, social beyond his years...

And, now, year two: I get hitting, biting, late walking, little talking, and the most fiercely willful attitude ever. Such a desire for independence accompanied by frustration at mommy-imposed boundaries. I am trying to convince myself that we are just getting our "terrible twos" out of the way early. There is just such a marked difference. I am just thankful that I able to breathe deeply,be consistant, and be firm. I don't feel badly about giving him time out, or saying no, or insisting on some words before he gets things - but it does make for some long and difficult days.

Despite our trials and tribulations of pre-toddler (gosh - everything comes with "pre- " now!) I also have new and wonderful things to love and enjoy: Learning to walk comes with lots of falls and gleeful tumbles into my arms. I also get intentional hugs with little pats over the shoulder. He likes to share his snacks with me and cracks up with when I say "no thank you" and turn my head like he does. We have our own little games that only we play together that make us laugh. He isn't clingy, but I love when he is toddling around and clings to my pant leg. Story time is more fun now - we sit in the corner by his bookshelf and read together before bed, taking turns picking books. He 'car dances' like his mama, and it makes him laugh when I catch his glance in the mirror.

I know we'll survive, and we'll make it to two. Maybe I'll get to brag how easy the 'terrible two's' went, or maybe I won't. I will love him more and more everyday.*

DISCLAIMER*more love will only be given days that I don't get bitten; on days were biting occurs, mom will maintain level of love. Increase in love will occur the following morning when I get hugs from the crib. Increased level of love will be that of the day of the biting plus the day on which the additional love is given, so as not to fall behind due to biting days.

Baby's First Beach

2009-07-04T19:03:00.004-04:00

I feel really lucky to have been able to take the baby on vacation this year. I'm also very blessed to have wonderful friends to spend it with. This summer, we headed to my favorite vacation spot EVER - the outer banks of North Carolina. I loved it from the first time I was there with my good friends Danielle and Scott. I have been looking forward to sharing this beautiful place with my son since he was born.

My master plan was to leave home around 630 p.m. so he could sleep the entire 5 hour drive and I could just transport him peacefully into bed when we got there. What actually happened was we left at 9 pm, he slept the whole way, woke up when we got there 2 a.m., and cried and slept restlessly until 6:45 a.m. Oh well. I am happy to report that was the worst part of the whole vacation.

The first time we took him to the ocean, he headed straight in. He splashed in the surf and looked around with his big eyes, taking it all in. He had many ocean adventures (mostly because his Aunt Dani is determined that he be more ocean-brave than me!). One day the tide left a pool on the beach for him to romp around in. He splashed furiously. Occasionally a seashell found its way to his mouth, but he did pretty well. He spent hours playing in the sand, and destroying my pathetic attempts at sand castles.

He seemed to grow so much in a week. He played hard and he slept hard. He ate like a champ at the seafood buffet - crab legs, crab imperial, mahi-mahi - he tried everything we put in front of him. He cut two teeth, and learned that lots of people beside mommy say "no no!". Scott taught him to swing a wiffle ball bat (in the house), and he took his first little step on his own. He developed a love for peanut butter toast and went to his first aquarium. He had his first ride on a ferry. He loved the Christmas Store, and picked out his own ornament (a car, of course). He fed seagulls and yelled "eeee eeee" at them. He started to point at things he likes, and realized that dipping fries in ketchup is yummy. He learned to climb up steps, and to slide of furniture 'feet first'.

It was a wonderful week, with so many memories that I will always cherish.

New Recipe for Mama Pasta

2009-06-16T19:09:00.002-04:00

Dinner plans were foiled. I had planned on stopping to pick up some fish to pop in the oven - a favorite of the baby and I. But alas, a mini tantrum on the way out of daycare made me forgot to stop. Once home, I got a crazy craving for soup (in the summer - wierd) All I wanted was some soup from Pei Wei. BUT, as bed time approached and he got fussy, the idea of leaving the house became more and more unattractive.

I set water on to boil, and went on soothing munchkin, knowing once he went down I'd have a mama pasta project on my hands!

1) Boil 1 1/2 servings of pasta (I like rotini)
2) A few minutes before the pasta is done, stir in frozen veggies of your choice ( I did carrots, peas, and handful of soup veggie mix)
3) Drain all
4) Use 1 package of frozen creamed spinach as a sauce (I used Birds Eye and it was AWESOME)
5) Top with a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese

After that I divided the pasta into two servings. I crumbled up a left over turkey burger into one, and added some canned salmon to the other serving for tomorrow!

And now, my belly is full, baby bear is fast asleep, and lunch for tomorrow is DONE!!!

More later!

Not fancy, but still good!

2009-05-17T16:21:00.003-04:00

Hey guys,

I want to enter the baby in a photo contest. I know, I know, I'm THAT mom now....Don't judge me ;-) There is $ involved for college and/or gift cards to keep him clothed!

Anyways - check it out, leave a comment. I'll take more pics next week - waiting for a little scratch on his nose to fade before I take pics for the contest!

Fancy Photos!!!!!

2009-05-17T10:05:00.003-04:00

Yesterday Daniel and I had photos done with Dorie Howell. I follow her page on blogger, so you should see her link on my blog. It was raining, and he was not being himself, so I was little worried - but - the pics look awesome already!!!!! She has posted two little preview pics, and I'm already soooo happy we did it.

This is our *new* Mother's Day tradition - we will have such happy memories!

http://doriehowell.com/

PS-Dorie was great to work with, so if you're in the DC/NoVa area, I hope you will consider her.

Video from December

2009-05-12T22:33:00.003-04:00

Below is a link to my you tube video. Its from Christmas - taken in Pennsylvania at my Aunt Dana (also known as Auntie Mom's) house. Not only is my baby and aunt funny, but so is the funeral-like Christmas carols in the background. Also, be warned my grandmother starts singing "doodley doo" half way through. To this day, we are unsure if Doodley Doo is her original composition, or a real song. Regardless, here it is, creepy Christmas music and monotone singing included for free ;-) This is my family, and I love them!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2APo3UDK4DY&feature=channel_page

PS-If I can figure out the technical skills required to get videos of my video camera, I will put up "baby pissing on mommy and floor @ baptism" and every one's favorite - "cannibal baby eats Aunt Dana's face" SCOOOOOTTTTTT help!

My Mother's Day

2009-05-10T09:55:00.000-04:00

Happy Mother's Day everyone. I hope your day was as beautiful and blessed as mine.

7 a.m. wake up call. I'm greeted by a baby wearing only a droopy diaper and a grin that melts my heart. Perfect.

9 a.m. We walk outside on a day so gorgeous you feel blessed just to be alive. I get darling little smiles as my son peeks up over his head to make sure I'm still there, pushing his stroller.

10 a.m. (likely the best gift of the day) I get to take a shower and get dressed (make up and all!) in peace and quiet and with out hurry - little man is napping (naked again).

noon- Off to dinner with Joey, Jenny, and her mom Kathy at a great Italian place. I was treated to a Mimosa and a yummy meal. It wasn't very busy, a few families. Daniel was having his run of the place (the ENTIRE place) Everyone, employees included, were sweet to him. As we were getting ready to leave, the manager came over to take the baby's picture for their website. My dreams of him being a childhood star have begun!!!!!! I will post a link when the pic is up - and if anyone knows a legitimate agent - hook me up!

3-4pm Nap. Much needed sleep for mama and baby.

4-5pm Outside romp! There is a huge grassy area by the ponds at my place. Its perfect for letting little man run free and explore without boundaries. He crawled over every inch of grass, pushing his dump truck, examining weeds and trees and rocks.

6:45 p.m. Bedtime routine as usual. Bath, lotion, and stories. We read books for about 15 minutes. Daniel was climbing all over me and pulling himself up to get into my lap. He is such a busy, independent boy that I love when he is tender and clingy. He threw himself over my shoulder, put his head down, reach around and gave me a hug - a real hug! He squeezed me and patted my back. What a perfect ending to a perfect day! I tucked him to bed, with chunky monkey and some milk, and lots of kisses.

So sweet

2009-05-05T20:41:00.001-04:00

From the start, I knew today was going to go one of two ways. I knew I would survive, or it would be ugly and I would ended up sweaty, with another win for the kid. I didn't imagine it would be wonderful - but I guess that is what motherhood is about (in addition to poop, slobber, and toys). I had rehearsal tonight from 5-630 pm (baby's prime fussy-time), and had to take the baby.

The morning began as usual, until I walked in to his room to a stench that gagged me. I looked around for an exploded toilet or dead animal. Then I saw the culprit; the source of the gut-wrenching stench - my own child. He did what I call "shitting up the back"-which is exactly it sounds like. It is when the diaper cannot contain and the poop comes out the diaper, and up the child's back. In this case, the poop was up to his shoulder blades. GROSS. The only solution is to cut their clothes off and dump them in the bathtub. Not only was this gross, but I took it as an omen to how my day would go.

I packed baby bear's bag with lots of tummy ache goodies - toast, pedialite, fruit, and extra kisses - and took him to his sitter's. The day went fine for him, and I picked up a dopey, sleepy, and slightly cranky baby just in time to toss him in the car, and turn around to get back to school for rehearsal. I had the pack n play and dreams of him being content in it. I stopped and got him some chicken nuggets and milk (cause I forgot food for him!) We got to school and the all kids fussed over him and his face lit up! I set up the pack 'n play, tossed him in, threw in some chicken nuggets - and TA - DA!!!! He was okay! He was actually pretty happy! He fussed some times, and I let him out, afraid he would terrorize the kids, pull a timpani on his head, or electrocute himself, but he didn't! It was amazing! He just crawled up the podium and chewed on a pen, pretending to conduct with me. It was pretty cute, and he was just so damn good, I couldn't believe it! For an hour and a half!?!?! He was content without a single toy, book, or anything. I don't understand, and that's fine. I just hope it wasn't the crack in the chicken nuggets.

All the world's a (my?) stage...

2009-05-04T20:23:00.000-04:00

I'm not beyond embarrassing myself for the amusement of others. I'm not the family comedian, but, I do love cracking people up on occasion - I just never had the desire to crack up dozens of people in the grocery store on a Monday :(

My newest 'resolution' is to plan a little more - primarily meals. The baby is eating 3 solid meals and snacks, so I should too. I'm also sick and tired of feeding little man, putting him to bed, and then looking around the kitchen famished and settling for cereal. I also don't like relying on those prepackaged toddler meals for the baby. Looking at my schedule, the only way ANYBODY in my house was eating was if I went shopping today. I had a list, my tennis shoes on, and was ready to run through. (Daniel does not do well between 4:30-6:00 pm)

We barely made it to the third aisle when he started twisting and fussing and yelling. The store was busy, and no one seemed to enjoy the added noise. I tried cookies and toys. He tried throwing them. Then my phone rang (Beyonce is my ring tone) and the baby got happy.

I guess that was my solution. So, I danced my way down the aisles (aisle 3 through 11) singing Beyonce's "Single Ladies" over and over and over. Eventually he settled for the cheap ring tones that came with the phone and I could tone down my theatrics. People were staring a little (ok, a lot - and not that kind of stare and smile that says "oh how cute"), but at least my baby bear was content. Another mom had been following me for a bit I guess - she stopped to tell me how cute Daniel's dancing was and that mine wasn't bad either. Her kid was content with a stupid rattle and some overpriced yogurt melts. Whatever, my kid's got rhythm and a love for Beyonce - and half the town knows it now!

Dedicated to Aunt Dana - cause she showed me the art of the cell phone ring tone dance and SHE IS the family comedian ;-)

Tie Game Baby

2009-04-30T21:07:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was a hard day. It hasn't been the best week, and yesterday was just exhausting. He has missed one of his naps, and was pretty irritated when I got home. Why I thought today was the day to work on weaning of that bedtime bottle, I'll never know.

It seems that nothing infuriates my child more than me saying "no" and moving him away from said "no no" item/behavior. Lack of sleep makes him prone to his fits. He goes nuts - screaming, throwing himself on the ground, and thrashing about wildly. If I make the mistake of holding him, he will scratch and smack me in the face. He has also been known to try and bite too. It sounds horrible, but the fit lasts about 30 seconds. He then goes about his business, seemingly content having expressed himself in such a dramatic fashion.

Yesterday, he did this about 15 times in 2 hours, including in the bathtub, while changing his diaper, while trying to feed him, and while trying to get him dressed for bed. I felt like somebody kidnapped my angel and left me his demon twin, and I wanted my kid back. Things had really gotten bad when I was trying to him into his PJ's. He was thrashing about naked - screaming until he gagged himself. I just sat on the ground with him and started to cry. I don't know why I expected empathy from a one year old. I couldn't really have thought he'd crawl over, pat me on the back, and settle down? He did however, stop going nuts - but only to laugh at me. Awesome.

I guess this where you'd expect me to stop crying and laugh with him, and everyone goes to bed happy. Wrong. I tried to grab him in his moment of happiness to get a diaper on. The tantrum continued, complete with kicking, scratching, and ear piercing screams. Eventually I wrestle him into clothes, and get him into the crib. He threw his sippy cup and his stuffed monkey over the edge of the crib and then cried about it.

I gave up. 2 hours of this was enough. I gave him his bottle. He wrong. I guess we start bottle weaning next time.

PS-I don't know what magic I had tonight, but we had a peaceful bath, pj, and bedtime routine - no bottle...only a sippy cup with a few sips of milk!

Baby's First Boo Boo

2009-04-08T23:28:00.000-04:00

I can't believe it has been so long since I have been able to post. My laptop has gone on to computer heaven - that place where there power button does NOTHING and no one thinks the hard drive is recoverable. Oh well, it was old, and led a good life. This post is happening thanks to Scott and Dani and Cancun and my convenient location to the airport ;-) No worries Scott, I only used Firefox and I tuck it away safely each night in its little case, far away from the reach of the cats and/or baby!

For those of you who are close to me, you know that both the baby and I have Type I Osteogenesis Imperfect. That's "OI" for short.... I won't bore you with the details. Basically, our bones are fragile. If you have the time, go to www.oif.org and check out the basic facts. I will continue on assuming you know what I'm talking about!!

From the moment I came to really grasp my pregnancy, I had a good vibe. I was never sick, I had minimal cravings, and I escaped a lot of those pregnant lady things. I always called him "he". In fact, when discussing my unborn child, I used to say things like, "What if HE's a girl?!?!?" I had intuition that he was a boy. I had a feeling I would have a good delivery. I thought I'd have an easy pregnancy. I thought he may beat those 50/50 odds of having OI. I was 3 for 4. In July, x rays confirmed he had OI. It was bittersweet. I was, of course, a little sad knowing the physical pain he may have to endure, the possible surgeries, as well as the mental challenges he would face. But, I also knew that he would develop the incredible strength required to live with this condition. Having OI shaped me in many positive ways - it steered my interest towards music (leading to my career) and fostered my outgoing, "i can do anything" attitude - my patience and empathy. Some positive would come of it for Daniel as well. I also knew it was I bond that only we could share - knowing how it felt to lug around that fiberglass cast in the sweltering July heat and to shrug off a broken toe or two as "not that bad".

As we approached his first birthday, I made follow up appointments with his genetics specialist and his pediatrician, both of whom were excited that we had made it one year without a break. Almost...

When I picked Peanut up from daycare on Thursday, his sitter said he was a little fussy and was sort of chill - not real interested in standing or crawling. I felt heat rise from my feet, I saw spots in my vision, and my ears rang. I knew this was it. I woke him up from his nap, and kissed him all over his head, and tried to get him to stand. He refused. My mind went a mile a minute - looking for which foot he favored, what looked swollen, what didn't. What was tender to the touch, what wasn't. I ran through the day in mind, and realized he didn't stand or craw for me this morning - but I attributed it to it being an early wake up and him being mellow. I was mad. I had missed something. Me, his mother! His wonderful sitter was distraught when I told her I was taking him for x-rays. She couldn't imagine he could be hurt, and not cry all day.

Here's where I have a major lapse in judgement. Luckily, it led only to some laughs after the fact instead of a lawsuit. I went to the doctors...at the mall. Yes, that's right. We have an after hours pediatrics clinic right next the JC Penney's catalog pick-up, and I was dumb enough to think that was a good idea! My friend Jenny met us there with milk and cherrios. I was sitting in the car, dabbing my tears, waiting for them to let us back in. They didn't open for 5 minutes and asked us to wait outside while she opened. The doctor quickly made his way to my bad side as he let us sit there for an hour while he wiped snotty noses and looked a rash. Thats right, Doc, boogers and spots before the kid with a rare genetic condition and possible fracture. He asked if I was "sure" we had OI, cause my eyes really aren't blue. I said I'm sure, and that I was 3rd generation, and if he continued to watch, the more angry I get, the more my eyes turn purple. I also assured him that not only was I sure but so was the genetic specialist that diagnosed him!

Fast forward an hour (where I help with the xrays, and he uses google as part of the exam) and he says nothing looks broken, but said if it got worse to bring him back. He then suggested I try to get into a specialist. He recommended a colleauge (who's contact info he had to Google). He also recommended I lie to them and say his leg is broken to see if I could get in faster because they have a long wait list for new patients.

Fast forward to Monday (first day of Spring Break). My angel is crawling, but will not bear weight. He has gotten better, and is standing, but I don't like the way he dangles his right leg in the air. I got an appointment with his pediatrician who says xrays are a good idea. Xrays confirm that he broke the top part of tibia on his right leg. My poor little man! Our Pediatrician, (who is FABULOUS!) was amazed at how he carried on with his leg. He crawled all over her floor and tried to pull himself up on her pants to get a hug.

None of the local orthopedics wanted to take Daniel - that pesky genetic conditon. The amazing office staff jumped into action, calling through the doctors in my insurance plan, aksing to speak with a doctor before sending us to someone who may not be comfortable with OI patients. They even offered to hold Daniel so I could pee (for the first time in 5 hours!) We ended up going 70 miles from his pediatrician to a really great pediatric orthopedic group-ironically the one the quack doctor had recomended.

He was so good all day - even slept the entire way to the orthopedics! Never crying or fussing - just going about his day playing and enjoying his new favorite snack - cheese. We picked out dinosaurs for his first cast. Daniel played physicians assistant and held the gauze and fiberglass rolls.

I have to give my little man credit - he was kind enough to ease me into this whole thing. Everyone if my family got a chuckle out MY kid going 5 days with a broken leg. EVERYONE had to bring up the splinter incident (circa 1988) where I screamed bloody murder and swore I would die if they dug it out. Whatever - it hurt!

(written 4/8, posted late!)

Pox Be Gone!

2009-03-01T20:29:00.000-05:00

Whatever maternal instincts I have are good! He does not, and never had, chicken pox. By late Wednesday, his spots faded almost completely. Oma took him to his pediatrician's office, and got the all clear so he could go back to daycare. I guess the diagnosis is 'mystery spots' likely due to cold virus + fever + sensitive skin. He is fabulous, and not really fussy. He's a little up in the air as to whether or not he's really interested in food, but other than that he is back to his old self.

But you don't smell like chicken OR pox?

2009-02-24T17:07:00.000-05:00

Allegedly, my son has chicken pox. I say "allegedly" because he has 14 spots and has had the SAME 14 spots for about 36 hours. I thought chicken pox spread all over you? I do remember getting on a plane as a teenager going to Las Vegas fine and arriving in Las Vegas COVERED in spots.

I did take him to the doctors (urgent care, not his regular pediatrician) and two doctors looked at him and diagnosed him with the pox. Worse than the diagnosis is my sentence - banned from work for at least 7 days. You might think it sounds like, vacation, but I don't have enough sick days for a late winter vacation :( Thank goodness, Oma is coming to the rescue Wed. and Thurs. Not sure about whats going on after that, but it helps!

Daniel is doing great with his supposed childhood disease. Aside from the runny nose, he really couldn't care less. We've been couped up a full 24 hours, so I'm breakin' loose! We're off to the store for some formula - so, if you are in my zip code and haven't had the pox....be warned!

Not yet house trained

2009-02-12T20:00:00.000-05:00

Above - " Caught in the Act", "On the Run", and "The puddle"

I knew they (meaning babies) didn't come potty trained, but, I guess I didn't know that they truly have no preference where they pee). I found out the hard way...they do not care.

Daniel is totally into his "squirmy wormy" stage and totally loves trying to escape during diaper changes. He does this crazy roll and run deal. This time, since I was about to put him in the tub anyway, I let him go. And off he went, naked as the day he was born, tearing across the living room! It was so cute, I had to grab the camera. A few cute naked baby pics later, he quieted down, reached between his legs, and pissed all over the floor. The look on his face was sheer delight. Wow! I did that!?!?! He beamed. He looked proud of himself for marking his territory. He then crawled away from his puddle on the carpet and sprinkled another drop or two on the kitchen floor.

Maybe I'm not your average mom, because 1) I thought it was HILARIOUS and 2) I didn't clean it up until after I gave him his bath.

Judging from the joy he obtained by peeing on the carpet, I'm guessing he's not ready for the potty. I heard from other moms that a slight feeling of shame when they have accidents is a good indication they are ready for the potty. Oh well, I thought 10 months was a little young for that anyways!

$80 frozen yogurt...

2009-02-08T12:24:00.000-05:00

Everyone knows that it is nearly impossible to get out of Costco (or Sam's Club) for less than $100. You go in for your lifetime supply of TP and come out with pillows, rugs, and 100 lbs of granola bars...and you forgot the toilet paper.

My trip to Costco was PLANNED and I PLANNED on leaving with out spending more than $2. Goal: Check out a sleeper sofa my mother law had seen. I told the baby if he was good, we would share some frozen yogurt on the way out ($1.60, including tax!).

We checked out the sofa. Sat on it, layed on it (somebody drooled on it...). Then we walked around, just checking out what they had. Daniel is super social, so he really likes just being out in his stroller where people will fuss over him and talk to him. He likes to show off his new tricks of waving hi and bye. As I was getting ready to leave, I realized I had no cash, and the snack bar doesn't take debit cards. My plan was ruined. Oh well, they had cute baby PJ's and he outgrew most of his... $9. Okay, so I have to spend $9, then get $20 cash back for my $1.60 yogurt. Hmmmmm. As I tried to decide if it was worth it or not, Daniel started yelling. Then crying. He was hungry. Good enough for me! We were both hungry, he needed PJ's. $29 yogurt it will be.

We got through the check out line and thats when I got hit with it.

"Your membership is up. Would you like to renew?" Growl. I must have looked pissed because she decided to point out to me that the expiration date is right there on the card-as if I have no right to look irritated.

No going back now, we're both hungry, he picked out his PJ's and was holding on to them. And I did PROMISE yogurt if he was good, and he was good.

"Fine." I said.

Moments later, we were enjoying our $80 frozen yogurt with strawberries. (and I don't think I want the couch....)

Baby's First Boo Boo

2009-01-25T21:48:00.001-05:00

Above - the sympathy balloon!!!!

I guess I should be thankful I went 9 months and 10 days without having to kiss a single boo boo. I am VERY thankful that I was able to cure his first real boo boo with kisses (and a guilty purchase totaling $8.29.

Yesterday I took the baby out for a little adventure - lunch with Uncle Dave and Auntie "K" (thats Keri) and then had planned on spending some gift cards at the mall - I call it "free shopping".

Before heading out, we stopped at the grocery store. Daniel had fallen asleep in the car, so I gently scooped him out, made a bed in the grocery cart out of my jacket and his big blanket. He woke a little, but snuggled down to the corner and closed his eyes, content to just relax in the basket. I checked him a few times - out like a light. Then he startled awake, and quickly tried to sit up, and quickly fell back down, hitting his head pretty darn good on the cart.

The immediate silence before he cried scared the shit out of me. I quickly scooped him up and comforted him and he stopped crying immediately. It was little red, but didn't look horrific or anything. I moved him up to the seat and buckled him. As moved down the aisle, I reached behind his head to see if I felt a bump. WHen I brought my hand around, there was a drop of blood. Okay, a speck of blood. But really, ANY amount of blood would have sent me into the tizzy that followed. I panicked. WHat did I let happen to my baby! There was a scratch, almost an inch long, on the back of his head. I felt the blood drain from my head and for a second thought I would pass out. I panicked - I'm not going to lie. I flipped out, and ran back to the baby aisle, looking for some mom (preferably one smarter than me!) to assess our head boo boo. NOBODY! I'm still panicking, but the baby is laughing - probably had something to do with the speed at which I was pushing him through the store.

As I ran my options through my head (call doctor, call 911, go to urgent care, cry...) I realized there was a pharmacy isle. I headed over and busted open the Neosporin right off the shelf and slathered his head in it. Then I called Aunt Dana. I must have sounded really panicked because she kept asking me if the wound was gushing. "Gushing? No! It's not even bleeding," I said. Then came the laughter as she assured me he was fine. She had me put him the phone so she could ask him what happened. He listened intently, and when she asked if his head hurt, he shook his head 'no'. Good enough for me!

As we head towards check out, I feel like everybody is staring at the bad mom who's kid has a boo boo. I felt bad, so I thought I'd buy him a balloon. One of those impulse buys they put by the candy so your kid screams bloody murder until you buy them crap. He loved the balloon, and was smiling and pulling at it. It rang up over $8. I wanted to rip it out of his hand and steal one of those "buy one get one free balloons" I saw by the mac and cheese. But alas, he was all smiles, and if nothing else I felt better because I bought him a balloon.

As we headed out, people were still staring, but now there were staring because he was yelling and laughing and being super cute. (or maybe there were staring at the clumps of Neosporin globbed on his head)

PS-for any who thinks my balloon purchase will lead to a horrific baby-spoiling trend, I'll have you know this balloon has come in quite handy - he plays with it while we do diaper changes. YESSS!!! No poop on the carpet from a squirmy baby in 2 whole days!!!

Get me a camera crew...

2009-01-20T19:47:00.001-05:00

Grab some coffee or cocoa, and settle in for this one! If you are very close to me (or related...even better!) you will appreciate this the most. However, if you are not, you will still enjoy this tale. This true, yet bizarre tale.

The title comes from a phrase my cousin Davey and I were constantly shouting two years ago. I was not yet a mama, and I was going through a rough time. Davey lived in the same town as me, and took it upon himself to drag me through this rough patch - creating the TRUE makings of reality television along the way. We had ambitions of being the next Anna Nicole show, sans drugs and fake boobies. In fact, I bought a video camera and we did document one of our big adventures during Spring Break. Since then I haven't often thought of my life as the type of drama you would see on FOX, but today, I kept thinking - "Get me a camera crew, because THIS is reality".

Let's set the scene. My mom, and her husband Bob were visiting from PA. This is especially fun because my father (as in, my mom's ex-husband) lives with me. Oh yeah, and my dad is weird. Very, very, weird. My mom, Bob, the baby, and I went out to get some lunch. We came home, and I went in to the house with the baby so I could have a free hand to help them into the house.
I hear this alarm-like beeping. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, pause. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, pause. Its sort of like the smoke alarms, but it seems to be coming from - the kitchen pantry?

I plop the baby in his play yard and begin my investigation. There, behind some cookbooks and my George Foreman Grill is a beeping Carbon Monoxide detector. I bought it in college when I moved into a townhouse with gas heat. I never had gas ANYTHING and I was convinced that every time I had a headache, I was dying of carbon monoxide poisoning. I attached it directly to the furnace in my first place :) When I moved, I was pissed off that we had to leave the washer and dryer, so I ripped it off the furnace in retribution and just tossed it in the pantry 2 years ago. I know, I know, the pantry???

So its beeping. I look at the codes and 4 beeps with a pause reads as follows:
"CO alarm. Leave the house. Get fresh air. Call 911"

I couldn't believe it. I pushed reset. 4 beeps and a pause. I still don't believe it. I check the code for battery. Green light and one beep. Shoot. I have a red light and four beeps. I look around for the really reliable CO detectors - my cats. There they were - perfectly alive. At this point, I still haven't decided what to do, but I knew I had to take the baby out. I took him out to the car for my mom and Bob to watch.

I decide to test the battery myself. So i took it out and stuck the 9 Volt on my tongue. Zap - it still had juice. I put the battery back in - BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP pause. Damn it! I decided that the rest of the directions fresh air, 911 blah blah blah were to extreme. I decided non emergency fire department would suffice. So I called, we chatted briefly. I told them about the living cats, and the 9 volt on my tongue (it retrospect, I think these were strange ways to justify my request for help....)

The nice fireman said to go outside, stay warm, yada yada. I reset the alarm one last time, and went in search of my dad. I found him, unfortunately. Shaving his face in his underwear with the door open. Cringe - I hate when he does that.

ME "Did you not hear that alarm"
DAD"Yeah"
ME "And...did you check it??? "
DAD "Well, it wasn't the smoke alarm, so, no"
ME "Its the CO alarm and I called the fireman and they said to get out. They're coming"
DAD (as he continues to shave, and not move) "OK"
ME (staring - cause he is not moving) "WELL GET OUT!"
DAD "yeah, yeah. Everybody's gotta die sometime"
ME "True, but your not dying in my house today. Get out."
DAD incoherent mumbling

Now that I have shuffled everyone out, I get that "unexpected company and the house is a mess panic". SHIT. Ughh. I really really hate that feeling. My mind is racing - "PRIORITIZE" I tell myself. I'm sure I have 10 minutes or less. I finally settle on the litter box. I'm sure they will have to go to the basement, and I didn't want it to smell like kitty poop. So, while the alarm is going off, and my entire family (mom, ex husband, new husband, and baby) are outside, I'm scooping poop and thinking what else I can do if I have time.

I decided that the litter box will have to suffice. I run out to check on the baby and I hear the fire engines.

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe they have the lights and sirens on!" I said. I felt like I had been perfectly clear that this wasn't an emergency...

My mom is laughing (and taking pictures) and I keep screaming how embarassed I am. The baby is loving it. Kicking his feet and squeeling.

The sirens get louder, and closer, and then they come around to my street. A ladder truck, another truck, and an ambulance - ALL WITH THE LIGHTS AND SIRENS ON. I'm mortified. My mom laughs harder, and takes more pictures on her camera phone. Now that the baby sees all the drama, he is absolutely enthralled.

I greet the fireman and we head towards the house. Then I see my dad. Leaning against the house, smoking.

ME "Don't smoke! What are you doing!?!?!?! Get away from the house - oxygen is flamable"
DAD "Nah CO isn't flamable"
FIREMAN "Um, sir, I believe she's reffering to the oxygen tank strapped to my back"
DAD Incoherent mubling again...shuffles off to his car.

He puts on his oxygen mask, and asks me to take him to my alarm. I look at him, waiting for my own puff of oxygen or something, but I just get the "ladies first" arm gesture. I show the fireman my alarm, and he confirms via radio to the guys outside we indeed have a positive alarm, but his sensor isn't beeping, so he removes the mask.

We start to walk through the house, and he says its okay for me to stay as long as HIS alarm doesn't start beeping. Suddenly BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP. I'm ready to run or for him to grab my arm and drag me out, but instead, he starts jumping up and down and sort of shaking his hips. "My personal alarm battery must be low". The tour went as follows. Walk, walk hop up and down to stop the alarm. Walk walk, hop up and down!!! Picture it, really...me and the hopping fireman. Jesus.

Now we are upstairs.

"Oh, the baby's room is cool," he says "You have a lot of room up here".

Whaaaa????? Glad you're enjoying the tour...find the CO leak asshole! Strange. This isn't the first time emergency personnel have commented on my house in times of crisis...

"Oh, you have upstairs laundry!? My girl friend would love that."

For REAL?!!? Is this happening? Its bad enough I'm leading this tour without a handy dandy oxygen tank, but, whatever- we can talk about my house!

We finish up the tour in the kitchen where I left the alarm sitting on the table, still beeping.

"Where do you keep this?" He asks.
"Oh, uh, I never put it up when we moved, i just let it sit here, by the recycling." Somehow, this seemed less lame than telling him I keep it behind the George Foreman.

After ripping apart my alarm again, the check battery light comes on, and the alarm stops. Doh! Doh! Doh!

"I did that too, you know. I even licked the battery." Great. I feel the urge to lie about where I keep it, but the words "I licked the battery" roll right out of my mouth.

He laughed a little and said not to worry, that it really was a "positive alarm". He assured me I would not be hauled off to jail or get yelled at by the fire chief on the other end of his radio. He then showered me with compliments for calling (and for NOT using 911). I even got a pat on the back for owning one of these alarms! He then did his civic duty and reviewed the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning - headache, naseau, vomitting, flushed complexion, passing out...

So we go outside, where I see my mom has a pulled a minor "Brittney Spears" move. They drove down the drive way so the baby could see the fire trucks up close. He was grinning ear to ear at the lights and bustle of the fireman diconnecting the hoses from the fire hyrdant.

I give some information to the fireman, apologize for about the 100th time, and see them out the door. I was less embarassed by the time they left, but when I list the major facts and characters - its deserving of a camera crew:

Dad, in underwear
Smoking + oxygen tank
The jumping fireman
Poop scooping
Pantry alarm
Lick the battery

PS - an hour later, at the grocery store, my mom is calling everyone in the state of PA to tell them the story while we're in line at the deli. The woman in front of me turns around and says "Oh! That was you guys? I heard the sirens and saw the ladder truck go past my house! I was wondering where they were going with the ladder truck!"

My Beautiful Disaster

2009-01-18T15:00:00.000-05:00

It was one of those days. One of those long days where things are so busy at work, I don't even have time to pee. I don't even REMEMBER to pee until my bladder is aching. One of those long days that entailed a trip home from work to get my baby love to bring him back to work (about 100 miles round trip).

I had a concert, and had to bring the baby. That morning I was still fishing for a sitter to watch him at school. Luckily (and, as usual) my friend Jenny came through for us. The baby was a little fussy, seeing as how he was confined to the music office and forced entertain himself with a handful of toys I keep in the car and some tupperware Jenny had in her purse (random, right?!). He was a little screamy, and I had to come to his a rescue a few times when I was supposed to be doing some last minute rehearsing. Finally he calmed down. He never quite made it out of the office to watch my concert, but he was happy playing and yelling with his Aunt Jenny.

After the concert I came running in to fetch my baby to show him off to all my students and their families - and there he was - my beautiful disaster. He was now naked, excpet for a slightly soggy diaper, and stained blue bib that reads "Chicks dig me". His little cheeks were super rosy, and drool ran down his face and belly all the way to his toes (sounds like a dreadful version of the night before Christmas....) He had some baby crust on his nose, and his natural mohawk was accentuated with a little bit of baby vomit he had run through his hair. For a half of a second, I was ALMOST MORTIFIED...I'm a dork and always pack matching "concert clothes" for him so he looks extra cute...and there he was, naked dirty, and a little stinky. Ok, noticibly stinky. But when he flashed his million dollar, zero toothed smile, I saw my gorgeous baby, my beautiful disaster. I scooped him up to show off. Not only did no one comment on the strange smell, but the seemed to enjoy seeing his little round baby belly and chubby little legs. Some parents took pictures. I hope I can get one to add to the post.

Poor Jenny took a real beating that night - he was a true handful, and she had come straight from work. Thank god she's easy to please - I repaid her with a mashed pototoes and a diet pepsi from KFC.

Movin' Movin'

2009-01-10T08:21:00.000-05:00

I'm doomed. My baby is mobile. He had been crawling backwards since about Thanksgiving. I predicted he'd be crawling forward (the more dangerous kind of crawling) by New Years. He was a little later than I said. He crawled on Sunday January 4, 2009. You can also mark that as the last day I was ever productive.

Now that he can move, that is all he wants to do. Crawl, and head straight for things that he should not have. His new favorite activity is to craw to the kitchen chair, grab the lower rungs, and shake the chair across the floor and bang it against the table. For slightly safer fun, he enjoys being chased around the kitchen island. It so awesome to watch explore his world in a new way - to see the curiosity on his face when he sees something new. I think he loves watching me run and yell "NO" as he heads for the yet-to-be-baby-proofed electrical outlets.

Along with crawling came a very willful attitude. I guess he believes that since he can get to where he wants to go, he is entitle to do so at anytime, and to have anything he wants. He has been hot pursuit of my cell phone for weeks. He won yesterday when I went to the bathroom. His acid drool has destroyed my phone. So, today - wal mart for some baby food and outlet covers then the sprint store for a new phone...

Mom, this bottle sucks...

2009-01-03T00:12:00.000-05:00

It seems like my baby goes through these quirky little 'transitions days'. I'm not sure if anybody else has experienced something like it, but I'd be interested to hear if you have. Its sort of like every 2 or 3 months, he takes 2 or 3 days to work me into a new routine, or pattern, or behavior. I find it hard to describe - I guess its sort of like merge lanes on the highway - a little transition between two paths. His first transition was when he went to sleeping through the night. Then we had a little transition phase when he started taking regular naps. Then we had a little phase when he weaned himself from breastfeeding and found great joy in holding his bottle, by himself, not even in my lap (that was a tough cookie to swallow!). We also went through a phase where he taught me he needed more physical play - mostly standing up time, jumping in my lap time, etc.

The good news is, I've learned to follow his lead. He's such a sweet and pleasant baby that when he gets fussy, I now know he's trying to cue me into something new that he wants/needs. The most recent one went as follows:

My baby loves to eat. Up until the past week or two, we had a really clear routine. 6 oz. formula, a little time to digest, then baby food. Repeat 3-4 times a day with an extra bottle before bed etc. Then I received the following baby communication that I needed to translate:

BABY: Cry like I'm hungry
MOM: Make bottle
BABY: Take two sips and throw that shit across the room. Yell.
MOM: Give baby the bottle
BABY: Take two more sips while growling, then throw bottle and yell. Loudly. Stare at mom like she's dumb.
MOM: Why is he looking at me funny while he yells? Maybe he wants me to hold him while he eats. I pick him up, offer bottle.
BABY: Push bottle away and do my "rapid roll" move to get to my belly to make my escape.
MOM: Hmm...I could have sworn that was his hungry cry...

No worries - we have it worked out. We used to start with a bottle then have baby food, but now we have it reversed and he's happily gorging himself on baby food. I think he's eating more solids than is expected for his age - but he is happy and well nourished and getting enough formula to get the iron and such he needs.

I wonder where our next "merge" will take us...

A boring holiday for a baby...

2009-01-01T19:32:00.000-05:00

New Years isn't really a baby-friendly holiday. My son rang in 2009 by sleeping soundly. I guess the only benefit of being a baby on New Years is you don't have to eat hot dogs and sauerkraut.

Long Night

2008-12-30T07:28:00.001-05:00

My sweet baby, whom I always brag on for sleeping through the night, was a TERROR last night. For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to go to the mall to meet my friends - Jenny and Joey, for dinner and spend some gift cards. Too bad the mall is an hour away. He had a blast at dinner - he's a very social baby and loves to make eye contact with strangers, then he will flash his million dollar smile until they stop to say how beautiful he is. By the time we got around to the shopping part - it was 8:00 p.m. - bambino bedtime. Oops. Things were fine, he was chillin' in his stroller, until I stopped to look at a pair of jeans. Then came full-on hysterical tears. We walk, he's happy, I stop he cries. So I roll on on out to the car. I'm talented, but not able to try on jeans while strolling. My little man fell asleep in the car before we got out of the parking lot. Sweet!

When we get home, he's suddenly ready for round two. We play on the couch a little, quietly...as I try to unwind him again. Once asleep, I put him up in his crib, turn on the monitor, and partake in one of my and cousin Davey's favorite pastimes - Drinking while watcing Intervention. The irony... Don't worry, I'm talking less than a glass of wine, not a six pack! Then I hear whining on the monitor, then yelling, then quiet, the cooing. He's up. Repeat about 10 times - and that takes us to 6 a.m. this morning when I bring the baby into my bed hoping for an hour of sleep. I got it.

And to all of you that shame me for letting him sleep in my bed for an hour - kiss my ass. A well-rested mommy is a happy mommy, and a happy mommy is a good parent.

Nothing is sweeter...

2008-12-28T22:08:00.000-05:00

...than the feeling of my sleeping baby in my arms as I carry him up the steps for bed. His warm little body finally resting after a day filled with play. His eyes flutter just for a moment and then close again with a deep sigh. His little feet flopping as we go up to his room. When I put him in his crib, he immediately turns on his left side (when he was co-sleeping in a bassinet attached to my bed, he would roll to his left to turn towards me - a darling habit he has maintained).

Mama Pasta?

2008-12-28T20:02:00.000-05:00

Mama Pasta. Mama pasta is not some rejected ballet character from the Nutcracker. Mama Pasta is one of my earlier triumphs of first-time motherhood. It was only a week or two after the birth of my son, and I was trying to figure out how the hell anybody did anything while breastfeeding. I mean, really, do the math - eat every 2 hours, for about 20 minutes. Throw in some diaper changes, naps, and BAM - you have exactly 7.845 minutes to take care of yourself. On the day that Mama Pasta came to be, I made the decision to eat instead of shower.

The baby was in between feedings and resting in his pampasan. I began scrounging around for food, and found very little. No lunch meat, no bread, no cereal, no milk, no leftovers. Leftovers would have required me to cook at some point. Pasta - being raised in an Italian family, I knew I had pasta. As I continued my search for food, I found no sauce. My eyes started to fill with tears - I just wanted something hot to eat. Why not run out and get something you may ask - well, those of you who are first time mom's of an infant know. It is not worth it. I had barely figured out how to get the kid in the car seat and definately didn't yet have the strength to drag him through the store in that heavy ass car seat. Instead of crying, I thought of my Aunt Dana, who, could whip up something to eat out of nothing. WWDD - what would Dana do? And 10 minutes later (drum roll) I had my first batch of mama pasta. Whole wheat rotini drizzled with olive oil, mixed veggies from the freezer, chicken from a can, some Mrs. Dash garlic, topped with some Mozzerella. Success! Hot dinner AND I hit all the food groups. Since then, mama pasta has become a game. The only rules - you must use pasta and cannot leave your house for any ingredient.

I triumphed - baby ate, I ate. We made it through another day.

Now my son is 8 1/2 months old, and we still have our mama pasta days. Today was one of those days. My friends Danielle and Scott were here this evening, and I was showing them my mama pasta creation and was explaining the game. After some other random baby tales and musings, we (meaning Scott) decided this should be blogged. And there it is - the birth of my blog.