My brother and I were talking the other day and he told me that, during a recent exercise in long-term life planning, he realized that he would turn 40. Let me just tell you that my brother is 28 years old, so he isn't turning 40 soon, but someday. And it hadn't occurred to him before that moment that someday, in a way he can imagine and almost put his finger on, he will turn 40.
I know how he feels.
Let me first say that 40 isn't old. Not by a long shot. No, 80 is old, 90 is old. Forty is somewhere in the middle, but it is older. It is settled and career and mortgage and gradeschoolers. Your 20s are for questioning things, making mistakes, trying new ideas, and setting things up for later. Your 30s are for attending to those mistakes (um, debt, hello!) and seeing some of those earlier plans through...maybe getting married, maybe having a kid, maybe progressing in a career. At least that is what I think the next decade holds for me. OK, so I have the husband and kid already, but we are just getting started. We are just creating our family and figuring out what being a family is. The next decade will solidify all that, make it easier (I hope), and make it better.
But 40...what the hell are your 40s for? I can't even think that far ahead. Maybe they are for enjoying all the hard work that got you to where you are. Maybe they are for getting back to some of the things you gave up in your quest to progress. Maybe they are for knowing who you are and what you want and how to get it. That doesn't seem so bad at all. (Or maybe every decade is the same...now that would suck.)
I am 30, and soon my brother will be 30, and then soon enough we'll both be 40. That is OK. I don't dislike aging. In fact, it is really nice to know that this year is over, the next year is starting, and it holds lots of new and exciting opportunities. We're not getting old, we're getting older. I like getting older. I am kind of a crazy old lady deep down anyway, so why not ring in the new year with that attitude! I will still hate this so-called rock-and-roll the radio insists on playing, I will still go to bed at 9:30pm, and I will still throw rusty cans at the kids who won't get OFF MY LAWN. (Alright, so I made that last one up.)
Happy new year to everyone. May the next year, and all the years after that, be better and brighter than the one before.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Christmas day...
Evelyn and her cousin, A. A is only one month older than Evelyn. They are about the same height, but Evelyn is much...what's the word...more substantial than A.
Down with Sophie is cousin H, age 3. Evelyn was totally smitten with her. She followed H around the house. H was totally smitten with the dogs.
This final picture is of Evelyn, in her cute new Christmas pajamas, opening her favorite gift of the morning--a play purse. She loved that thing. Also the cow puppet, singing phone with buttons, and animal farm.We had a great Christmas. Much less stressful than last year. It was nice to stay home, sleep in our own beds, and not drive anywhere!
I'm pretty sure Evelyn grew over the Christmas weekend. She can now get up on the couch by herself, climb up on the kitchen chairs by herself, and pull the oven door open with ease. ALL TROUBLE. Curses. It's only a matter of time before I walk into the kitchen and find her standing on top of the table, or the kitchen counters, or the stove. Hopefully not the refrigerator... (Jacob, I'm looking at you!)
Happy new year to everyone!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Traditiooooooon...tradition!
This post asks the question, what are your Christmas traditions? (It also over-uses the parenthesis.)
The first Chritmas Jon and I spent together as a married couple, we were in Japan. That wasn't conducive to starting a new tradition (although it would be awesome to go to Japan every Christmas!) and so we put things off a year. The next year we had a little baby (yay!) and we started to adopt the traditions of our two families into one.
We have pink-and-white sandwiches on Christmas Eve (the white is chicken, the pink...bologna), watch a Muppets Christmas Carol (because it is the only holiday movie I like), and then go to bed early (um, because we do that every night). On Christmas morning we open presents and eat pancakes (pancakes!) and then prepare for dinner. Nothing too complicated.
This year we are instituting Holiday Tradition #4: New pajamas on Christmas Eve. Mostly because Evelyn needs new PJs, but also because new PJs are fun. Hooray! Perhaps without knowing it I have also created Holiday Tradition #5: Make a crappy home-made holiday ornament using glitter. (Last year I tried my hand at Martha Stewart's beautiful cinnamon dough birds. They instead turned into stars covered in green glitter. This year I tried my hand at salt dough ornaments. They aren't as bad as the cinnamon stars, but I won't be sending any photos in to Home Beautiful, let's just say that.)
I realized for the first time last year how much more fun Christmas is with a baby around. Evelyn wasn't even old enough to open her presents, or to appreciate gifts, or to understand that this new thing was for her. She didn't know the reason we celebrate Christmas, or that it even was a holiday. But it was still a lot more fun with her around. I imagine that will be even more true this year.
Especially since she'll be wearing her awesome new PJs...
The first Chritmas Jon and I spent together as a married couple, we were in Japan. That wasn't conducive to starting a new tradition (although it would be awesome to go to Japan every Christmas!) and so we put things off a year. The next year we had a little baby (yay!) and we started to adopt the traditions of our two families into one.
We have pink-and-white sandwiches on Christmas Eve (the white is chicken, the pink...bologna), watch a Muppets Christmas Carol (because it is the only holiday movie I like), and then go to bed early (um, because we do that every night). On Christmas morning we open presents and eat pancakes (pancakes!) and then prepare for dinner. Nothing too complicated.
This year we are instituting Holiday Tradition #4: New pajamas on Christmas Eve. Mostly because Evelyn needs new PJs, but also because new PJs are fun. Hooray! Perhaps without knowing it I have also created Holiday Tradition #5: Make a crappy home-made holiday ornament using glitter. (Last year I tried my hand at Martha Stewart's beautiful cinnamon dough birds. They instead turned into stars covered in green glitter. This year I tried my hand at salt dough ornaments. They aren't as bad as the cinnamon stars, but I won't be sending any photos in to Home Beautiful, let's just say that.)
I realized for the first time last year how much more fun Christmas is with a baby around. Evelyn wasn't even old enough to open her presents, or to appreciate gifts, or to understand that this new thing was for her. She didn't know the reason we celebrate Christmas, or that it even was a holiday. But it was still a lot more fun with her around. I imagine that will be even more true this year.
Especially since she'll be wearing her awesome new PJs...
Friday, December 18, 2009
Anonymous
Twice now, an anonymous person has posted a comment to one of my 2007 blog posts. The comment was made on the same post, and included the same language both times:
Excuse me, where may I buy a unicorn?...
I wonder who this person is. I wonder why this person wants a unicorn. I wonder why this person think I could help them find a unicorn, why he or she (but, come on, it's a she) believes in unicorns at all. I wonder if this is some really offensive comment and I'm just not hip enough to know. (Oh, if it is and you are hip enough to know what it means, I apologize.)
It is the weirdest anonymous comment I've received. Twice.
The only other anonymous comment I've received was a a very angry (teenage?) girl, upset that I was making fun of the New Kids On The Block reunion tour and new song. I guess she thought my assessment that it was TERRIBLE was not only wrong, but offensive and stupid and I should be put in my place via anonymous blog comment. I laughed and then wondered how she found my little blog post. I think she must have Googled NKOTB and searched 27 pages into the results to find my post and get really upset about it.
Ah, internet. You are a mystery.
Excuse me, where may I buy a unicorn?...
I wonder who this person is. I wonder why this person wants a unicorn. I wonder why this person think I could help them find a unicorn, why he or she (but, come on, it's a she) believes in unicorns at all. I wonder if this is some really offensive comment and I'm just not hip enough to know. (Oh, if it is and you are hip enough to know what it means, I apologize.)
It is the weirdest anonymous comment I've received. Twice.
The only other anonymous comment I've received was a a very angry (teenage?) girl, upset that I was making fun of the New Kids On The Block reunion tour and new song. I guess she thought my assessment that it was TERRIBLE was not only wrong, but offensive and stupid and I should be put in my place via anonymous blog comment. I laughed and then wondered how she found my little blog post. I think she must have Googled NKOTB and searched 27 pages into the results to find my post and get really upset about it.
Ah, internet. You are a mystery.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Little girls
Our little girl is becoming, well, a little girl. She is getting a personality and a sense of humor, likes and dislike, favorite things and favorite people. I think I posted recently about Evelyn's newfound love of her blanket. She takes it everywhere. I know it is a developmental thing, and it will likely turn into a headache at some point, but it makes me so happy to see her so happy with something that is all hers. She loves it, and that is wonderful.
I also learn every day how much she knows. I really don't give Evelyn enough credit for how much her little brain is absorbing. She can't speak yet, but she knows the names of a lot of things. Ask her to go get her shoes, and she will. Ask her to give up her pacifier, and she will (or make a game of NOT giving it to you). She knows the name of the dogs and I think she can say Tucker (tukatukatukatuka). Ask her to point at various objects and she will. It blows my mind how much she knows. Even things I've never heard said around her. The other day Jon asked Evelyn to point at the bee in her book, and she did! Now, maybe Jon always asks her to point at the bee, but I've never heard them talk about it before and it's not like the dogs and sheep and cows that she fawns over in most of her books. But she knew what a bee was! Awesome.
As for sense of humor, Evelyn is developing a real goofy side. There is a farmer in one of her books, and I don't know what is so funny about it, but everytime we get to that page she points at it, and as soon as you say, "yes, that is a farmer," she gets a huge grin and giggles. She thinks it is hilarious to play keep-away games, and the other night Jon was wearing dress shoes and Evelyn would walk up to them, touch the toes and then run off laughing. I don't know why it is funny, but Evelyn does, and she makes herself laugh. Much like her mother.
Amidst all this fun, Evelyn is also throwing larger and more frequent tantrums. Don't get me wrong, they are still small and infrequent, but they are there. In Costco last night she got REALLY upset when her little sample of tortilla-crusted tilapia was all gone. And cartoons...lord almighty, she loves this one set of cartoon shorts from 1946. Thankfully they are actually pretty good. Great music, interesting animation. Her favorite is Peter and the Wolf, with The Whale Who Wanted to Sing at the Met a close runner up. My favorite in her group of favorites is "All The Cats Join In." It's a jazz interlude...
So we are trying to limit the cartoon watching, doing a little before her morning nap and before bed, but sometimes she gets so mad! She'll whine and moan at the TV, making her scary wolf face, trying to grab any remote control to turn the TV on. She just loves those shorts!
Anyway, it is so fun to watch her grow up. I wonder what she'll be like when she is 6 or 16. But for now I am trying to enjoy these little things before she is all grown up. It will be here too soon.
I also learn every day how much she knows. I really don't give Evelyn enough credit for how much her little brain is absorbing. She can't speak yet, but she knows the names of a lot of things. Ask her to go get her shoes, and she will. Ask her to give up her pacifier, and she will (or make a game of NOT giving it to you). She knows the name of the dogs and I think she can say Tucker (tukatukatukatuka). Ask her to point at various objects and she will. It blows my mind how much she knows. Even things I've never heard said around her. The other day Jon asked Evelyn to point at the bee in her book, and she did! Now, maybe Jon always asks her to point at the bee, but I've never heard them talk about it before and it's not like the dogs and sheep and cows that she fawns over in most of her books. But she knew what a bee was! Awesome.
As for sense of humor, Evelyn is developing a real goofy side. There is a farmer in one of her books, and I don't know what is so funny about it, but everytime we get to that page she points at it, and as soon as you say, "yes, that is a farmer," she gets a huge grin and giggles. She thinks it is hilarious to play keep-away games, and the other night Jon was wearing dress shoes and Evelyn would walk up to them, touch the toes and then run off laughing. I don't know why it is funny, but Evelyn does, and she makes herself laugh. Much like her mother.
Amidst all this fun, Evelyn is also throwing larger and more frequent tantrums. Don't get me wrong, they are still small and infrequent, but they are there. In Costco last night she got REALLY upset when her little sample of tortilla-crusted tilapia was all gone. And cartoons...lord almighty, she loves this one set of cartoon shorts from 1946. Thankfully they are actually pretty good. Great music, interesting animation. Her favorite is Peter and the Wolf, with The Whale Who Wanted to Sing at the Met a close runner up. My favorite in her group of favorites is "All The Cats Join In." It's a jazz interlude...
So we are trying to limit the cartoon watching, doing a little before her morning nap and before bed, but sometimes she gets so mad! She'll whine and moan at the TV, making her scary wolf face, trying to grab any remote control to turn the TV on. She just loves those shorts!
Anyway, it is so fun to watch her grow up. I wonder what she'll be like when she is 6 or 16. But for now I am trying to enjoy these little things before she is all grown up. It will be here too soon.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Dinner guests and an insane asylum
The incident of the Devil's Eggs. No, not deviled eggs, but the devil's eggs, because that is what they were. Let me back up...
Over Thanksgiving weekend, Jon and I decided it would be lots of fun to throw a holiday dinner party. We invited 11 people, 6 were able to attend (and thank goodness for that because we don't have enough silverware for 11 extra people). Anyway, the party was on. We had one vegetarian guests so we planned our menu accordingly.
As the day drew closer I got increasingly crazy. CRAZY, I tell you. Crazy. I have, um, issues when people come over to the house. I worry that no one will show up. I worry that the house isn't clean enough. I worry that the food won't be good or won't be done in time or won't...whatever. It doesn't matter. I more than once uttered the phrase, "I hate everything! Let's cancel the party!" Thankfully, Jon is much more level-headed.
We had originally wanted to make endive BLT bites for an appetizer. As we thought more on it we decided it was a bit too complicated and so we changed our menu to include deviled eggs. Delicious. Classic. Retro. Yum! I make great deviled eggs. Seriously. So I figured it would be a pretty easy appetizer to whip up. The first batch was cooked up on Saturday and put in the refrigerator until Sunday morning. We tried peeling the eggs but they would not peel. Not at all. It was bad. So I made a second batch and tried to peel them while they were warm, but it was still really hard. I don't know what the problem was! Of the TWENTY eggs I cooked, 8 turned out OK. So I split them in half, put the yolks in a separate bowl, and put everything in the refrigerator while I worked on something else. Alas, when I pulled the eggs out of the fridge, they were frozen!! Ugh. The incident of the devil's eggs.
(This will go down in legend alongside the Spite Potatoes, but that is another story.)
****
After all the madness and worry, our little dinner party went off without a hitch. Mixing old friends and new, we had great conversation and lots of laughs. There were no deviled eggs, but the roasted potatoes with sour cream, and cheese with salami and crackers were more than enough as appetizers. We made duck-and-chicken pot pies (and one vegetarian pot pie!), roasted asparagus, tossed salad and homemade challah (it is Hanukkah, after all). Red velvet cupcakes rounded out the meal.
I hope everyone had a good time. I told Jon after everyone had left that I hoped the next time we have guests over I wouldn't get so crazy. Then we both laughed, because that will never happen. I will always get crazy.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, Jon and I decided it would be lots of fun to throw a holiday dinner party. We invited 11 people, 6 were able to attend (and thank goodness for that because we don't have enough silverware for 11 extra people). Anyway, the party was on. We had one vegetarian guests so we planned our menu accordingly.
As the day drew closer I got increasingly crazy. CRAZY, I tell you. Crazy. I have, um, issues when people come over to the house. I worry that no one will show up. I worry that the house isn't clean enough. I worry that the food won't be good or won't be done in time or won't...whatever. It doesn't matter. I more than once uttered the phrase, "I hate everything! Let's cancel the party!" Thankfully, Jon is much more level-headed.
We had originally wanted to make endive BLT bites for an appetizer. As we thought more on it we decided it was a bit too complicated and so we changed our menu to include deviled eggs. Delicious. Classic. Retro. Yum! I make great deviled eggs. Seriously. So I figured it would be a pretty easy appetizer to whip up. The first batch was cooked up on Saturday and put in the refrigerator until Sunday morning. We tried peeling the eggs but they would not peel. Not at all. It was bad. So I made a second batch and tried to peel them while they were warm, but it was still really hard. I don't know what the problem was! Of the TWENTY eggs I cooked, 8 turned out OK. So I split them in half, put the yolks in a separate bowl, and put everything in the refrigerator while I worked on something else. Alas, when I pulled the eggs out of the fridge, they were frozen!! Ugh. The incident of the devil's eggs.
(This will go down in legend alongside the Spite Potatoes, but that is another story.)
****
After all the madness and worry, our little dinner party went off without a hitch. Mixing old friends and new, we had great conversation and lots of laughs. There were no deviled eggs, but the roasted potatoes with sour cream, and cheese with salami and crackers were more than enough as appetizers. We made duck-and-chicken pot pies (and one vegetarian pot pie!), roasted asparagus, tossed salad and homemade challah (it is Hanukkah, after all). Red velvet cupcakes rounded out the meal.
I hope everyone had a good time. I told Jon after everyone had left that I hoped the next time we have guests over I wouldn't get so crazy. Then we both laughed, because that will never happen. I will always get crazy.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Babysitting
Jon and I have decided that we need a date night. Not just a one-time thing, but a weekly or semi-monthly thing. Getting out of the house, going to dinner later than 5 o'clock, not worrying about who brought the sippy cup and if Evelyn is going to sit still long enough to wolf down a cheap dinner. No, we want slow meals, movies, browsing at bookstores, quiet, stillness. We want--nay, we need--some alone time. Away from the house, away from the TV, away from the clutter and mess. Alone.
To that end, we are interviewing and hiring a regular babysitter. Ack! The horror! Leaving our little baby angel with a stranger! But I think it will be OK. We're trying to hire someone with a lot of experience, background checks, reference. We're hiring an adult, not a teenager, and we're interviewing her in advance. I wish we had some friends in our area that have kids so we could do a babysitting swap, or get recommendations on a babysitter. Alas, we do not, and so we turn outward.
I remember babysitting as a young teenager. Twelve...13...(wow, that seems so young). I remember hating it but doing it because, I don't know, because that was the thing to do! I earned like $5 an hour and it seemed pretty sweet. Maybe "hate" is a strong word, but I just wasn't into it. I never liked other people's kids (still don't, really), and I would put them to bed really early so I could watch TV or finish homework. And so, even though I was an incredibly responsible teenager and never did anything BAD while babysitting, I wasn't really on-the-ball, either.
I don't want that kind of person taking care of Evelyn. Maybe if she were older, or...no, who am I kidding? I doubt I'll ever feel comfortable leaving her with a young teenager.
Anyhoo...I am rambling. Probably because this whole idea of leaving my most precious and sweet little baby with a crazy stranger off the street is a jarring idea. Even if she isn't a stranger off the street. And even if she is very qualified, has a clean background check, has glowing references, and works in childcare for her 9-5 job. Even if all those things are true, she still is a stranger. A STRANGER. In my house, with my child.
Now that idea of a nanny cam doesn't seem so ridiculous...
To that end, we are interviewing and hiring a regular babysitter. Ack! The horror! Leaving our little baby angel with a stranger! But I think it will be OK. We're trying to hire someone with a lot of experience, background checks, reference. We're hiring an adult, not a teenager, and we're interviewing her in advance. I wish we had some friends in our area that have kids so we could do a babysitting swap, or get recommendations on a babysitter. Alas, we do not, and so we turn outward.
I remember babysitting as a young teenager. Twelve...13...(wow, that seems so young). I remember hating it but doing it because, I don't know, because that was the thing to do! I earned like $5 an hour and it seemed pretty sweet. Maybe "hate" is a strong word, but I just wasn't into it. I never liked other people's kids (still don't, really), and I would put them to bed really early so I could watch TV or finish homework. And so, even though I was an incredibly responsible teenager and never did anything BAD while babysitting, I wasn't really on-the-ball, either.
I don't want that kind of person taking care of Evelyn. Maybe if she were older, or...no, who am I kidding? I doubt I'll ever feel comfortable leaving her with a young teenager.
Anyhoo...I am rambling. Probably because this whole idea of leaving my most precious and sweet little baby with a crazy stranger off the street is a jarring idea. Even if she isn't a stranger off the street. And even if she is very qualified, has a clean background check, has glowing references, and works in childcare for her 9-5 job. Even if all those things are true, she still is a stranger. A STRANGER. In my house, with my child.
Now that idea of a nanny cam doesn't seem so ridiculous...
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Race car bed!
I have a problem. A big one.
You see, the problem is that my husband is the EASIEST MAN IN THE WORLD to shop for. Maybe the easiest person in the world to shop for. The entire world. That little kid in Germany who loves race cars and all he wants in the whole wide world is a race car bed and race car books and race car sheets and race car clothes? He's got nothing on Jon.
Jon, as you may know, has a lot of little things that he loves--like tattooing or photography or great shoes or cashmere cardigans--and all of these little things are easy to buy. The question is never, "what should I get Jon for Christmas?" No, the question is, "what of the 100,000 things that Jon would like should I get for him now, and when should I stop coming up with really awesome ideas that trump the previous awesome idea so I don't go overboard." Alas, I have gone overboard.
Other people are harder to shop for, so I put it off and dawdle and try to come up with really great ideas for them, but my mind always circles back to really great ideas for Jon! It's a curse!
So I'm still stumped by my sisters (they are 4 and 8...I have no good ideas. Think they want a camera bag or a book of tattoo flash?) and my nieces (age 1 and 3...again with the little girls!). If you have a child in this age range, feel free to send ideas.
You see, the problem is that my husband is the EASIEST MAN IN THE WORLD to shop for. Maybe the easiest person in the world to shop for. The entire world. That little kid in Germany who loves race cars and all he wants in the whole wide world is a race car bed and race car books and race car sheets and race car clothes? He's got nothing on Jon.
Jon, as you may know, has a lot of little things that he loves--like tattooing or photography or great shoes or cashmere cardigans--and all of these little things are easy to buy. The question is never, "what should I get Jon for Christmas?" No, the question is, "what of the 100,000 things that Jon would like should I get for him now, and when should I stop coming up with really awesome ideas that trump the previous awesome idea so I don't go overboard." Alas, I have gone overboard.
Other people are harder to shop for, so I put it off and dawdle and try to come up with really great ideas for them, but my mind always circles back to really great ideas for Jon! It's a curse!
So I'm still stumped by my sisters (they are 4 and 8...I have no good ideas. Think they want a camera bag or a book of tattoo flash?) and my nieces (age 1 and 3...again with the little girls!). If you have a child in this age range, feel free to send ideas.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Guess who is going through a growth spurt?
Evelyn!
At 15 months old, she is 25 pounds, 3 ounces (the 83rd percentile). This is down, percentile-wise, from her 12-month weight. I think she was like 93rd percentile then. But...
She is 33 inches tall! That is the 98th percentile for height. In fact, she is the size of an average 22-month-old. The height percentile went up from her last appointment (from 95 to 98, I think). Anyway, she is big. Huge. Tall. Awesome.
In all ways, she is healthy, happy, and developing right on track.
Everytime we have an appointment at the pedicatirican, we get these percentiles and heights and weights, I wonder what Evelyn will be like when she stops growing. Will she stop when she is 10? 12? 18? Will she be like her Aunt Claire, a six-foot-tall beauty? Or like her mother, a slightly taller-than-average woman? (I guess, technically, I am more than "slightly" taller than average. What is average anyway? 5'4" for an American woman, right? I guess I'm the height of an average American man instead.) It is so fun to watch Evelyn grow, to wonder about the future, to make predictions and know they will be totally wrong. (Like the blue eyes...the blue eyes were in NONE of our pre-birth "what will she look like" predictions.)
The pediatrician said we are getting into some prime "terrible twos" time now, which is just plain mean since she won't be two years old for a really long time! He said 15-24 months is really hard, with tantrums and pushing boundaries and clinginess and center-of-attention-having and molars coming in and crankiness. I can attest to all those things starting to happen. I'm just sad to learn this is the tip of the sucky iceberg!
But parenthood never ends, it just changes. Bring it on!
At 15 months old, she is 25 pounds, 3 ounces (the 83rd percentile). This is down, percentile-wise, from her 12-month weight. I think she was like 93rd percentile then. But...
She is 33 inches tall! That is the 98th percentile for height. In fact, she is the size of an average 22-month-old. The height percentile went up from her last appointment (from 95 to 98, I think). Anyway, she is big. Huge. Tall. Awesome.
In all ways, she is healthy, happy, and developing right on track.
Everytime we have an appointment at the pedicatirican, we get these percentiles and heights and weights, I wonder what Evelyn will be like when she stops growing. Will she stop when she is 10? 12? 18? Will she be like her Aunt Claire, a six-foot-tall beauty? Or like her mother, a slightly taller-than-average woman? (I guess, technically, I am more than "slightly" taller than average. What is average anyway? 5'4" for an American woman, right? I guess I'm the height of an average American man instead.) It is so fun to watch Evelyn grow, to wonder about the future, to make predictions and know they will be totally wrong. (Like the blue eyes...the blue eyes were in NONE of our pre-birth "what will she look like" predictions.)
The pediatrician said we are getting into some prime "terrible twos" time now, which is just plain mean since she won't be two years old for a really long time! He said 15-24 months is really hard, with tantrums and pushing boundaries and clinginess and center-of-attention-having and molars coming in and crankiness. I can attest to all those things starting to happen. I'm just sad to learn this is the tip of the sucky iceberg!
But parenthood never ends, it just changes. Bring it on!
Indoor blues
It's that time of year. Cold. Wind. Snow. Aching ear canals and nipped fingers. What is a parent to do?
Evelyn loves being outside. She will bundle up to a certain degree (usually pushing her hat off, but that is another story), and play in the snow or walk around the recently-plowed sidewalks until Jon or I make her go inside. That is like 15 minutes outside, though, and she would really rather be out-of-doors for big parts of the day. She is happier outside, sleeps better after she's played outside, and generally behaves better. Not to mention when she is outside, she doesn't ask to watch any dog shows or singing cow cartoons.
Thankfully, Colorado only has a few really bitter cold snaps each winter, and the snow is almost always followed by a lot of sun, but it is still hard to get outside this time of year. So what are some good activities for toddlers to burn off that energy when they can't really play outside?
Evelyn loves being outside. She will bundle up to a certain degree (usually pushing her hat off, but that is another story), and play in the snow or walk around the recently-plowed sidewalks until Jon or I make her go inside. That is like 15 minutes outside, though, and she would really rather be out-of-doors for big parts of the day. She is happier outside, sleeps better after she's played outside, and generally behaves better. Not to mention when she is outside, she doesn't ask to watch any dog shows or singing cow cartoons.
Thankfully, Colorado only has a few really bitter cold snaps each winter, and the snow is almost always followed by a lot of sun, but it is still hard to get outside this time of year. So what are some good activities for toddlers to burn off that energy when they can't really play outside?
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