I just got a call from our daycare provider because Evelyn wanted to share some exciting news.
She peed! In the potty! At daycare! Two times!
Considering the amount of tears that have been shed over the concept of using the potty at daycare (just at the mere suggestion--we aren't pushing the issue too hard), it is miraculous. Evelyn is in undies at home, even using the potty at a restaurant last night, and now we may be getting close to full potty training at daycare. Hallelujah. Now we just have to tackle the task of getting her to tell us when she needs to go when we are in the car, and grandma Lew's house. But I am happy to say things are progressing nicely.
(Knock on wood. No, seriously. Knock on some wood right now.)
Thursday, April 28, 2011
It's gone
Last night, after Evelyn had been quiet in bed for about 10 minutes, she started making some weird noises from her bedroom, like bad dream scared shreiky noises. I went to her and we had the following conversation:
Evelyn, laying on her back with her pajama shirt pulled up to her chest
Me: Evelyn, are you OK, sweetie?
Ev: It's gone, Mommy. It's gone!
Me: What is?
Ev: Where did it go?
At this point I realize she is poking her belly button.
Me: Your belly button? It didn't go anywhere. It is right here.
Cue raspberry.
Ev (with relief in her voice): Oh good, it came back.
Me: Yes, your belly button came back. Now close your eyes. It's time for sleep.
The end.
It may be a cliche, but kids truly do say the darndest things.
Evelyn, laying on her back with her pajama shirt pulled up to her chest
Me: Evelyn, are you OK, sweetie?
Ev: It's gone, Mommy. It's gone!
Me: What is?
Ev: Where did it go?
At this point I realize she is poking her belly button.
Me: Your belly button? It didn't go anywhere. It is right here.
Cue raspberry.
Ev (with relief in her voice): Oh good, it came back.
Me: Yes, your belly button came back. Now close your eyes. It's time for sleep.
The end.
It may be a cliche, but kids truly do say the darndest things.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
This post is about poop
I gave you fair warning. So if you don't like to read about poop, especially other people's poop, and especially other people's children's poop, just stop now.
Now that the queasy have left the room, is there anything greater than wiping the poop off your child's bottom when that poop is now securely residing in the toilet and NOT in a diaper/her entier backside/a chair/etc? No, I think not. I think wiping the bottom of a child who has pooped in the toilet is one of the little things that only a parent can appreciate. But it isn't a little thing at all. It is a huge thing. Something so monumental it is rewarded with chocolate chips for everyone!
As you can likely infer, we are well on our way down the potty training path and things are going fairly well. Now everyone, together, KNOCK ON WOOD. Rub a rabbit's food or turn around three times and spit. Whatever it is you do to keep the bad voodoo off my proclamations of potty training success, do it now. We are only a few days in to the solid potty training situation. So far, in underwear, we have had no accidents. (Again, do that voodoo hiako now.) Getting into underwear is a different story, as Evelyn still prefers a diaper, but her protests are less pronounced now and the whole situation is getting easier. Diapers for bedtime and pull-ups at nap time, but otherwise, we are going for a full underwear-when-home revolution. It is liberating.
Oh sure, we have to remind her to be sure to tell us when she needs to use the potty, and sometimes she just sits on the potty to get that coveted chocolate chip (seriously, I don't know anyone who loves chocolate as much as my child), but we are getting there.
I love it. Hooray. Hooray times a thousand!
Now that the queasy have left the room, is there anything greater than wiping the poop off your child's bottom when that poop is now securely residing in the toilet and NOT in a diaper/her entier backside/a chair/etc? No, I think not. I think wiping the bottom of a child who has pooped in the toilet is one of the little things that only a parent can appreciate. But it isn't a little thing at all. It is a huge thing. Something so monumental it is rewarded with chocolate chips for everyone!
As you can likely infer, we are well on our way down the potty training path and things are going fairly well. Now everyone, together, KNOCK ON WOOD. Rub a rabbit's food or turn around three times and spit. Whatever it is you do to keep the bad voodoo off my proclamations of potty training success, do it now. We are only a few days in to the solid potty training situation. So far, in underwear, we have had no accidents. (Again, do that voodoo hiako now.) Getting into underwear is a different story, as Evelyn still prefers a diaper, but her protests are less pronounced now and the whole situation is getting easier. Diapers for bedtime and pull-ups at nap time, but otherwise, we are going for a full underwear-when-home revolution. It is liberating.
Oh sure, we have to remind her to be sure to tell us when she needs to use the potty, and sometimes she just sits on the potty to get that coveted chocolate chip (seriously, I don't know anyone who loves chocolate as much as my child), but we are getting there.
I love it. Hooray. Hooray times a thousand!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
A Mother's Prayer for Her Child
A Mother’s Prayer for Her Child, By Tina Fey
“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.”
-Tina Fey, in her new book Bossypants
“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.”
-Tina Fey, in her new book Bossypants
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Little Girls
First, let me start by saying that I made the best cheesecake in the history of cheesecakes this past weekend. I've brought a little slice to work in my lunch each day, and each day I have eaten the cheesecake first. It is impossible NOT to eat the cheesecake first. Why? Because it is the best cheesecake in the history of cheesecakes. Also, there are some perks to adulthood. Thank you, Cook's Illustrated and America's Test Kitchen. I * heart * you.
Second, let me tell you about the little girl living in my house. She does not like to be called a Big Girl, because--silly--mommy and daddy are big and she is just little. She has a point. She doesn't realize, though, that she is so much bigger than she was even a year ago, or a month ago, that is is hard not to call her a big girl.
In that "big girl" vein, the time has come to potty train. Like, for realsies. We've danced around the issue and suggested the issue and tried to make the idea enticing, but now the gloves must come off and we must all get down to the business of peeing in the toilet. I think we may have missed a crucial window of old enough to know when she needs to pee but young enough to be less stubborn. Sigh. I remember the toils my parents went through with my half-sister and I hope Evelyn isn't that difficult. But she is a lot like Emma (my sis), so fingers crossed this whole refusal to use a toilet isn't genetic!
Along with using the toilet comes getting off the bottle. Yes! Throw stones at me! I still give my 2-1/2 year old a bottle! Because she is just a little itty bitty baby, and it makes me happy to make her happy. We have a funny little game where she asks for a bottle and then I ask, "A bottle of monkeys? A bottle of sandwiches?" No! A bottle of milk! And much laughter ensues. She has a bottle and we snuggle on the couch and now that I write that down I realize that Evelyn IS just a little baby and holy cow time goes by so fast. Yesterday she and her Grandma Lew witnessed a car crash into a building near the donut shop where they were getting a snack and Evelyn said, "That's dangerous." I mean, seriously, so big.
Also, when I wake up, she asks "how did you sleep, mommy?"
Man, I love that kid. Also the cheesecake. In that order.
Second, let me tell you about the little girl living in my house. She does not like to be called a Big Girl, because--silly--mommy and daddy are big and she is just little. She has a point. She doesn't realize, though, that she is so much bigger than she was even a year ago, or a month ago, that is is hard not to call her a big girl.
In that "big girl" vein, the time has come to potty train. Like, for realsies. We've danced around the issue and suggested the issue and tried to make the idea enticing, but now the gloves must come off and we must all get down to the business of peeing in the toilet. I think we may have missed a crucial window of old enough to know when she needs to pee but young enough to be less stubborn. Sigh. I remember the toils my parents went through with my half-sister and I hope Evelyn isn't that difficult. But she is a lot like Emma (my sis), so fingers crossed this whole refusal to use a toilet isn't genetic!
Along with using the toilet comes getting off the bottle. Yes! Throw stones at me! I still give my 2-1/2 year old a bottle! Because she is just a little itty bitty baby, and it makes me happy to make her happy. We have a funny little game where she asks for a bottle and then I ask, "A bottle of monkeys? A bottle of sandwiches?" No! A bottle of milk! And much laughter ensues. She has a bottle and we snuggle on the couch and now that I write that down I realize that Evelyn IS just a little baby and holy cow time goes by so fast. Yesterday she and her Grandma Lew witnessed a car crash into a building near the donut shop where they were getting a snack and Evelyn said, "That's dangerous." I mean, seriously, so big.
Also, when I wake up, she asks "how did you sleep, mommy?"
Man, I love that kid. Also the cheesecake. In that order.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Toddlers and Illness
One sucky side-effect of being a two-jobs-outside-the-house family is that Evelyn has to be in daycare, which means she is always sick. Always. She has had a cold of some sort all winter long, causing her to miss daycare on a couple of occasions, and causing general malaise and discomfort at least one or two days of every week.
Daycare has a lot of upside to be sure, but the non-stop merry-go-round of virus is not one of them.
All this is to say that I never know when "regular kid illness" turns into "go to the doctor" illness. Evelyn is at the doctor right now after having vomiting and diarreah since Saturday. It got better, then came back, then led to dizziness and loss of balance, which led to us going to urgent care with the thought that Ev had an ear infection, which led to a grumpy old doctor-jerk telling me she did not have an ear infection and that "a stroke is unlikely at this age," which led to me wanting to punch him in the face, which led to anger and confusion over my inability to know when my child is actually sick. We decided to go home and rest one more night, but then the vomiting and diarreah reared its ugly head again at 1:30 am. So now Jon is at the pediatrician with my sweet, sick child. All I hope is the ped will be much nicer than the urgent care jerkface and give us an idea how to help my child.
Whew.
Bleeding out the eyeballs is easy. Go to the ER.
But general fussiness and vomiting, with no real signs of serious dehydration? When does that become something no longer treatable at home?
I'm sure Evelyn just has a nasty stomach virus. I'm sure more rest will help. Maybe there is some sort of prescription-strength electrolyte solution they can give us, or something to calm her little tummy, to help the healing process go faster. I hope so.
Update: Evelyn is fine. Just a stomach virus. More rest and fluids. Hooray.
Daycare has a lot of upside to be sure, but the non-stop merry-go-round of virus is not one of them.
All this is to say that I never know when "regular kid illness" turns into "go to the doctor" illness. Evelyn is at the doctor right now after having vomiting and diarreah since Saturday. It got better, then came back, then led to dizziness and loss of balance, which led to us going to urgent care with the thought that Ev had an ear infection, which led to a grumpy old doctor-jerk telling me she did not have an ear infection and that "a stroke is unlikely at this age," which led to me wanting to punch him in the face, which led to anger and confusion over my inability to know when my child is actually sick. We decided to go home and rest one more night, but then the vomiting and diarreah reared its ugly head again at 1:30 am. So now Jon is at the pediatrician with my sweet, sick child. All I hope is the ped will be much nicer than the urgent care jerkface and give us an idea how to help my child.
Whew.
Bleeding out the eyeballs is easy. Go to the ER.
But general fussiness and vomiting, with no real signs of serious dehydration? When does that become something no longer treatable at home?
I'm sure Evelyn just has a nasty stomach virus. I'm sure more rest will help. Maybe there is some sort of prescription-strength electrolyte solution they can give us, or something to calm her little tummy, to help the healing process go faster. I hope so.
Update: Evelyn is fine. Just a stomach virus. More rest and fluids. Hooray.
Friday, March 18, 2011
DST and You: One family's journey through hell
I just read this article by Jamie Lee on Baby Center about the toll the daylight savings switch can have on a person. All I can say is, AMEN! Jeez. Jon and I have been like two ships passing in the night since last weekend. Both tired, both grumpy, both out of sorts. And Evelyn--well, I don't need to tell you that things have been tense this week. She's sleeping poorly, asking for bottles all night long, waking up and crying, refusing to go to sleep at all, throwing fits. I thought it was a mother-daughter thing. But now I'm going to blame daylight savings time and, in turn, the entire federal government.
So thanks, government, for ruining yet another fun thing: sleep. I'll just take my ball and go home now thankyouverymuch.
Do they have DST in the Netherlands? Maybe I'll move there. Then I can bike to work and wear wooden shoes and pick tulips all while saving no daylight whatsoever.
/rant.
In other news, in this week of sleep-crazy-madness, Jon has taken on a huge undertaking of organizing an art show to benefit Japan's disaster relief. The show is called "heARTs to japan" and will be featuring artists from Colorado and around the world. It will be held at INDYINK, 84 S. Broadway, Denver, CO, on April 29. The art will be auctioned off and prints and t-shirts will be sold for a flat price. All proceeds will go to the Buddhist Churches of America and the Red Cross to benefit Japan.
So, go Jon! And if you are so inclined, "Like" his Facebook page (www.facebook.com/fortunecookietattoo) for more information, or tweet with the hashtag #hearts2japan to build support. And spread the word! It's going to be awesome.
So thanks, government, for ruining yet another fun thing: sleep. I'll just take my ball and go home now thankyouverymuch.
Do they have DST in the Netherlands? Maybe I'll move there. Then I can bike to work and wear wooden shoes and pick tulips all while saving no daylight whatsoever.
/rant.
In other news, in this week of sleep-crazy-madness, Jon has taken on a huge undertaking of organizing an art show to benefit Japan's disaster relief. The show is called "heARTs to japan" and will be featuring artists from Colorado and around the world. It will be held at INDYINK, 84 S. Broadway, Denver, CO, on April 29. The art will be auctioned off and prints and t-shirts will be sold for a flat price. All proceeds will go to the Buddhist Churches of America and the Red Cross to benefit Japan.
So, go Jon! And if you are so inclined, "Like" his Facebook page (www.facebook.com/fortunecookietattoo) for more information, or tweet with the hashtag #hearts2japan to build support. And spread the word! It's going to be awesome.
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