Things are so much better than they were two weeks ago. I have been keeping my cool with the kids, and the kids themselves are so much easier.
Well, Julian is about the same, but Adrian is WAY easier, and when Adrian is not working my every last shredded nerve, then Julian is fairly easy to handle.
The big difference? Communication. Adrian can suddenly COMMUNICATE. Not like he's speaking in full sentences or anything, but he really gets his point across. I want it, I don't want it, I prefer the other one, I'm thirsty, I'm hungry, I have to go potty, I'm tired, I dropped my toy on the floor and need you to help me get it, I want to show you something, look at this, come here, that is Daddy's shoe, that is Mommy's bag, I like that ball, etc.
Adrian uses a combination of sign language and speaking and gestures, and it's pretty awesome. Before, he would scream to indicate no, or scream with frustration we weren't understanding him. Also, his own comprehension was not nearly as good. Now he really understands what we say to him, and is generally cooperative.
He has quite the large vocabulary at this point. When he's sitting on his potty we read books (which he asks for by saying "eh?" and making the sign for "book"), and his favorites are word and picture and ABC books. I will ask him, "Where is the LION?" or "Where is the HELICOPTER?" and he almost always points to the right image. There are hundreds of pictures in the books we have, so he knows a ton of words by now. Very impressive for an 18 month old.
He doesn't *say* too many actual words verbally, not identifiable ones anyways. There's Mommy, Daddy, and Doggie. Let's see what others I can think of off the top of my head:
Eat, Drink (dink!), Yes , No, I Want That, Baby, Door
Door is the newest one. He points to a door and says it. Kind of random that he would pick that word, but there it is. There could be many other words that he's saying, but because he natters on a lot and it's all kind of jumbled up, it's hard to catch them sometimes. But his gestures and intonations are all spot on.
He likes to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle" to himself with the following lyrics:
"Mommy, Daddy, Doggie, Mom...Daddy, Doggie, Mommy, Mom"
Incredibly cute. He's very musical, that baby boy.
Adrian still has no name for himself, and no name for Julian. He was very excited looking at a family portrait of the four of us today, and I pointed to each person and asked him who they were. Mommy, Daddy, no problem. Pointed to him...silence. I know he can say "Baby", so I suggested that, but he didn't repeat it. Silence when I pointed to Julian as well. "Julian" is hard to say, so I suggested "Juju", but he wasn't repeating that either. We'll see what he comes up with.
Less screaming and more conversing makes for a much more relaxed parenting experience, and a happier household overall. Adrian has his 2-year molars coming in , and they are hurting him, but overall he's still very happy and smiley and quite witty too. He has suddenly become ticklish, and loves to be tickled under his arms and in the crook of his neck. He cracks himself up by farting.
Julian is moving along to his next developmental phase quickly too. Today we were listening to Cachao in the car on the way to IKEA for lunch. Cachao was a Cuban guy known as the inventor of the mambo, and the music is mostly old-school Afro-Cuban jams that get your booty shaking.
As soon as I put the CD on, Julian said, "Oh, I LIKE this CD." Then he thought for a moment and asked me, "Is this music African?" I was surprised and said, "Well, actually it IS African. It's Cuban, and Cuban music is a lot like African music, even though they sing in Spanish." I wasn't really sure how to describe it simply enough, but I think he understood.
I asked him how he knew the music was African and he said he wasn't sure, he just knew. He usually says at least one thing a day that surprises me...uses a complicated word in correct context, or discusses a subject in a very sophisticated, aware way. He' s still very small for his age, which makes it all a bit more surprising when he talks like such a big boy. And then he'll completely melt down over some tiny thing and all of a sudden it's like he's a 2 year-old again. Such an age of extreme behavior.
There has been a burst in helpfulness too. All of a sudden he can dress himself and put on his shoes and socks, and pick up toys and books and put them away. He doesn't LOVE picking things up and putting them away (yeah, me neither), but he's helpful if I stay on top of him and guide him gently to what needs to be done next. He likes to help me make applesauce, and can do every part of the apple peeling/coring process with my peeling/coring machine, except actually putting the apples on the prongs, because the prongs are sharp, and because the apple has to be perfectly aligned on them. But otherwise? He does it all, and I just throw the resulting apple slinkies in the kettle, season them with lemon juice and cinnamon sticks, stir, and wait. We're a Badass Applesauce-making Team.
At other times there is just zero focus, of course. It's surprising what he can do when he is motivated, and how little he can do when he is just not in the mood.
Dan took Adrian and Bugs for a walk last week and Julian stayed home to help me with some gardening. He was supposed to pick cherry tomatoes, but he lost interest after about two minutes. Granted, he had been at summer camp most of the day and was a little tired, but he likes to pick fruit, so I was surprised when he said he was done so quickly.
I asked him if he wanted to pick beans instead and he said "OK". But no sooner had I walked back over to the place where I was planting chard than he was done with that task too. "Mommy, I'm DONE. My feet are tired of standing up and picking these beans." Instead he wanted to help me dig holes for the chard, but then when I set him on that task he wanted to punch holes in the drip irrigation system. Whatever he thought he wanted do to, it only lasted a minute before he wanted to move on to something else.
I teased him that he wasn't a very good farm boy, since a real farm boy would be working from morning to night picking beans and tomatoes and milking cows and feeding chickens and lots of other things besides.
He said, "I AM a farm boy. I AM." I asked him how he could be a farm boy when he didn't want to work for even five minutes on our little farm, and we still had to pick tomatoes and beans for our dinner. If we didn't do our little tiny bit of farm work tonight, then what would we eat?
He looked at me and said, "Mommy, don't you need to go to Trader Joe's anyway? While you are there you can get something for dinner. Then I can be a real farm boy tomorrow when I am not so tired."
Well hmmmm, can't argue with that. Wouldn't fly on a real farm, but luckily our tomatoes and beans weren't like unmilked cows or unfed chickens...they could wait until tomorrow. The chard couldn't really wait one more day to be planted, so I finished that up quickly while Julian played (he DID have energy to play with the hose) and then we went inside.
Speaking of our little farm...
This year I didn't really till up the soil and amend it with compost like I did in past years. I just dug little pits, threw in some compost, and then mixed it up before planting something in each of the little pits.
Well, apparently that totally sucks as a farming technique. In years past my plants have grown tall and lush, and been very productive. This year? Nothing. Everything grew at a snail's pace, and then it all slowly turned yellow and started to die. EVERYTHING. Tomatoes, squash, cucumbers...the only things doing OK were peppers and basil. Not so great, but they were at least surviving.
We have been having a very mild summer (I've had on sweatshirts during the day in August), so that is one factor. I went to the nursery and a very angry chick with a lot of attitude told me that I was watering too much. I should water less.
I figured she was way off, and I was right. I upped the water to twice as much, and dosed everything with a big fat shot of Miracle Grow. No, it's not organic, but I had already given a big dose of organic fertilizer and it was doing zip. Next time I'll mix it into the soil when I am tilling, and do this thing right. But I had to give the Miracle Grow just to keep things alive.
The Miracle Grow was like Veggie Steroids. Within a day my garden was looking revitalized. A week later I had new green growth on all the plants, the few hard, unripe fruits I had were ripening, and in general everything looked about a thousand times better. Dang. Miracle Grow is the bomb.
Lessons learned this week:
1) Kids can change unbelievably fast. It truly seems to be darkest right before the dawn. Also helps to not be a raving maniac.
2) If you hit rock bottom and vent about the darkness on your blog, that seems to speed up the dawning process immensely.
3) When gardening, take the time to do things right. Prepare the soil by tilling it and adding plenty of organic matter and compost to feed the plants later on. Make sure you are giving enough water for each plant. Monitor the situation carefully and be prepared to work hard to fix things if they don't seem to be going right. Don't listen to that bitch at the info counter at Yamagami's Nursery. And finally...if all else fails and you seem to have fucked things up in spite of your best efforts, don't be afraid to use some Miracle Grow to save the day. Try harder next year.
4) Most of the above works for kids as well.
5) Keeping your cool is worth the effort. Everyone wins.
My name is Laura, and I am an Angry Mom, godammit!
So here's my big confession...I have been an Angry Mom for the past month, maybe two.
The kids have been going bonkers and being horrible, and I have had this never-ending PMS going on (two periods in a month, face a pimply mess) and I have been getting too little sleep, and I just have NOT been able to keep it together. Every time I go away from the kids I formulate extensive and detailed plans for improving my behavior, but then at the first shrill scream upon their return my nerves just shatter and I start yelling again and generally losing it.
The thing is, I totally know better. I have read many good parenting books, I know all kinds of good parenting techniques, what to do at times of less-than-stellar kid behavior, and how to preserve your relationship instead of sabotaging i.t.. but as soon as my buttons get pushed, which has been pretty much constantly, I JUST CAN'T DO THE RIGHT THING. Instead I yell, scream, swat, spank, throw kids in their room and basically feel miserably like I am going to have a heart attack at any second. OUT OF CONTROL.
All the books I have read on gentle parenting and positive discipline techniques were still sticking with me, but I have been so angry and so on edge 24/7 that I just can't get back to any kind of calm center to be able to put them into practice. I get to the point where I just don't give a fuck anymore about being a good parent, just EVERYONE LEAVE ME ALONE AND SHUT THE HELL UP. Mothering seems like a nightmare scenario that I will never escape from.
Of course, the worse I behave, the more the kids wig out and react right back. I recognized this and still couldn't stop.
Dan has been awesome when I am at my worst. He stays calm and sets a good example, talking patiently with Julian at his most whiny and annoying, distracting Adrian at his wildest and most destructive.
Then I improve a little bit and Dan falls apart. We have been alternating back and forth, each holding it together when the other loses it completely, and then switching roles.
The kids have been incredibly difficult. I don't know what's up, some kind of developmental burst or disequilibrium phase, or whatever you want to call it, but both of them have been nearly unbearable for at least a month, maybe two. No excuse for bad parenting, but they definitely pushed things to the brink. They weren't torturing small animals or anything weird like that, they were just being annoying small children. Whiny, loud, melting down constantly, demanding, beyond high-need, destructive, that kind of thing.
Mind you, I haven't been beating them senseless or locking them in cages or anything (though I did fantasize about it from time to time), but I did an awful lot of yelling, and used mean verbally abusive language, and even smacked them several times. I am embarrassed at my bad behavior and lack of control. I have bad memories of my own parents going totally nuts on me and screaming and yelling and spanking and saying nasty things, and am 100% positive that I don't want to repeat that with my own kids. I want to break that angry chain right here and now.
I very clearly remember being yelled at my my parents, and being treated poorly and unfairly. I remember being spanked by hands and then beaten with worse things when that didn't hurt anymore. I remember being scared by angry red faces with bulging eyeballs screaming right in my face. At no point did any of that help me. It just made me want t rebel against them. It made me hate them. It made me stop trusting them. It gave me an ulcer at age 9, for crying out loud. It made me want to get the hell away from them as soon as I possibly could. They were good parents in lots of other ways, but damn, they were (and still are) angry people.
Dan and I laid down a NO YELLING house rule, and that has helped us keep our cool, but we still break the rule from time to time. Still, it's better when you can at least agree that something is not OK and work towards stopping it. We told the kids that we were yelling too much and not being patient with them and talking things out, and that we were very sorry. If anyone breaks the house NO YELLING rule, then anyone else can call them on it.
I had one very bad episode where I screamed and smacked and completely lost it, and after that I was so DONE with being an angry parent, because honestly, it kills me too. It's not like I feel some great satisfaction and release when I am a Bad Mom and yell and scream and go nuts. Instead I feel like I'm going to keel over from a heart attack and brain aneurysm all at once.
Anyway, I knew I needed help, but wasn't sure where to start. A parenting crisis hotline? A therapist? I couldn't even think straight, I was in such bad shape and so stressed out, and also it's not so easy at all to admit that you absolutely SUCK as a parent.
What was my problem anyway? Maybe I should have never had kids. I said for a long time that I would never have kids. Maybe I was right, and I'm just not at all cut out for this mothering thing. I'm not patient. I like peace and quiet and lots of time to myself with a good book. I have never been a babysitter or a kindergarten teacher or a nanny or anything like that. Shit, maybe I've just made a horrible mistake.
But no...that's not it. I HAVE been a good and generous and loving mom. I DO know what to do, and I HAVE enjoyed my children, and no matter who I was before, I have stretched and grown and changed into who I have needed to be in my current role. I don't really want to just sit around with a good book 24/7 for the rest of my life, as much as I love to do that. I just don't want to be so fucking ANGRY all the time. I want to be serene again.
ANGRY. That's my problem. I'm too angry. It's not that I'm a bad mom, or not cut out for this, or that my kids are horrible...maybe momentarily in the current phase they're going through, but not overall. I just need some anger management, because it's the ANGER that is my problem.
I'm not saying that no one should ever be angry. Anger is very useful for motivating people to take action on important issues. When someone is threatening you, or taking advantage of you, opening a can of whup-ass is often useful like nothing else can be. But to be expressing anger in a toxic way, so often, with people you love, especially children...that's fucked up.
I had a moment of clarity and remembered the title of a book that was recommended on my positive parenting email list over and over again. "When Anger Hurts Your Kids". I ordered it with Express Shipping and immediately felt better, like I had figured out the problem. INABILITY TO CONTROL MY ANGER. Step back out of the infuriating moment and take in the bigger picture. Be the grown up, not the two year old.
Book Description
All parents get angry sometimes, but research clearly suggests that the amount of anger expressed in the family will have a negative impact on a child's performance in nearly every important area of life. When Anger Hurts Your Kids brings together the practical lessons of a two-year study of 285 parents. You'll learn how to tell if your family has anger problems, how to combat the 18 mistaken beliefs that fuel anger, and how to practice the art of problem-solving communication-skills that will let you feel more effective as a parent and let your kids grow up free of anger's damaging effects.
That just about nails it on the head. Anger is the #1 Beast that I must do battle with.
The book is good so far. The research is frightening (most parents are angry, and kids of angry parents tend to be depressed, less empathetic to the pain of others, do worse academically, commit more crimes, abuse drugs and alcohol, are more violent and abusive to their children and spouses, and so on). I'm not really to the solutions part (I haven't been able to read an entire book in over 18 months, remember?), but so far I am sold on the messaging.
One part that I liked was this...that it is a thousand times better to say "You are making me very angry right now by doing X when I asked you not to. It's time to go to your room until you can stop doing that" than to say, for example "Goddamn it, you stupid brat! I told you to stop doing that! Can;t you do ANYTHING right? Go to your room!" So right off the bat, the expectation is not that you be a saint or be *without* anger, just that you begin to express it appropriately and without verbal abuse attached.
Things have eased up on the home front. Adrian is being a little less destructive and the decibel volume has gone down slightly. He can also suddenly nod for "Yes" and shake his head for "No", and that, my friends, makes life with him so much easier, it's amazing. He has been great at signing and other communication, but his way of saying NO to something until just this week was to scream and cry and act like the end of the world had just arrived. So let's hear it for the boy.....WOOHOO!
Julian is still being super-whiny, but when he's not whiny, he's just fine. Yesterday he helped me with housework for almost an hour straight, folding laundry and putting it away, which was very sweet and much appreciated.
Even Adrian got into the housework act and had a little sponge and spray bottle to "help" me clean the bathroom. Yes, that "help" is in italics, because he made a pretty big mess, but he was cute anyways.
Also, BOTH KIDS SLEPT ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE NIGHT LAST NIGHT. This is rarer than Haley's Comet. I am still in shock. I think they were both so tired from being sick, and now that they feel better they just sacked out. Adrian did wake up briefly for just a minute, but he didn't even scream and cry for milk like he usually does. He just snuggled in closer, put his arms around me, gave a big sigh of happiness and went back to sleep. Whoa.
I think my Super PMS might be easing up as well. My face sort of cleared up a little, and I stopped bleeding. That's *something*, at least.
And I'm back to taking a deep breath and working on my calm, patient response to Kid Insanity when it arises. When I can be calm, they can usually be calm too, and we don't escalate things into the Bad Place.
Julian was flipping out the other afternoon and started pushing my buttons. I stayed calm (though it was a struggle), poured him a cool drink, a snack, put it on a tray, started up a story CD on his CD player, and told him he had had a long day and needed some quiet time to relax in his room. I didn't THROW him in his room, I helped him relax. I gave him a tool to fix himself when he felt out of control. Yes!
He fought me at first, but then he agreed that he felt tired and crabby. And then the other day after he got home from a long day at summer camp, he actually told me, "Mama, I had a long day at summer camp. I need some quiet time in my room. Can you make a snack for me and give me a cold drink please?"
High five to J! High five to me! When he felt better and more calmed down, he came out. He could rely on me to help him when he felt bad, instead of me just making him feel worse.
I think I'm on a roll. FAR from perfect, but hopefully getting back to a good place. I want to enjoy my kids again and not see them as a burden to endure until they leave. I don't want to be angry anymore. I know I will be from time to time, but I don't want to lash out and get nasty anymore. I want to be playful and calm and helpful and have my kids know that they can depend on me to show them what to do with difficult emotions, instead of getting medieval on their asses.
Because how can I tell them that yelling and hitting are wrong and then do it myself? How can I teach them effective methods of dealing with their own anger and sadness and frustration in life, when I am modeling exactly the opposite? I can't. I just can't. It doesn't make sense.
Everyone in the family has been sick for two weeks. First we had the flu, then Adrian's morphed into an ear infection, Julian's morphed into bronchitis and a possible sinus infection, and I am fighting a sinus infection right now.
Adrian was getting better from his flu, and then all of a sudden he took a big turn for the worse, with goopy green eyes and nose. That was right about the time that he stopped sleeping. Two nights in a row of sleeplessness, where he only slept for half an hour at a time, and then not at all after 3:00am. A 15 minute nap on both days. Crying all the time.
Julian was waking up every few hours screaming and crying and coughing, usually just when I had managed to get Adrian back to sleep.
This is the very definition of misery, when your kids stop sleeping, cry endlessly, and you don't feel so hot yourself.
On the second night of Adrian's not sleeping, he was crying "MOMMMEEEE!!!!" and I asked him "Baby, what's wrong, can you tell me?" This time he pointed to his ear and made the sign for "hurt". Aha! An ear infection!
Next morning I had the kids in to the pediatrician first thing. Unfortunately by the time I got them out of there, got the prescription picked up, and ran all the other errands I had to do, I was feeling pretty damn sick myself and it was too late to see anyone.
It was late Friday afternoon (of course...I ONLY get sick on Fridays after the doctor's office closes). Super sore throat and one completely blocked nostril, accompanied by a burning fire in my left sinus. Since my last sinus infection was so bad I thought I was going to die, I was a little panicky about the prospect of developing a sinus infection late on a Friday afternoon, and so far it hasn't been fun.
Yesterday I got out my Neti Pot and gave my sinuses a good cleansing. I normally do it just once on either side, but my left sinus was still blocked after I poured a whole pot through it, so I just kept going.
Green goo kept coming out, little by little, and then after the third pot I blew my nose hard into the sink and this....this....THING shot out of my left nostril. It was at least an inch long, and about half an inch wide, and the very first thing I thought when I saw it was that I had just had a miscarriage out my nose. It was a total meat purse. I am absolutely kicking myself for not taking a picture of it, because it was so utterly weird and unbelievable, but I was a little too freaked out at the time to think clearly.
I grabbed it and started dissecting it with my fingers. It had this meaty sort of tough core, and flecks of blood in it. I'm pretty sure it was just layers of dried up mucus that had piled up to form a stalagtite of sorts in my sinus, but Jesus Christ, it was odd. Odd and HUGE and more than a little bit creepy.
I could instantly breathe clearly on that side after it came out. No shit, huh? I can't believe that was inside my head. No wonder I felt crappy. The other side was still kind of blocked, so I kept washing and washing it out with a few more Neti pots full of saline, but nothing else came out except a little more green goo.
I still felt sick last night, but my throat was not as sore today, and I *think* my sinuses might be improving. I don't feel worse, and that's a good thing.
So what I'm wondering is...if you have a giant freaky Snot Clot up in your sinuses like that, and you take antibiotics, that might kill the bacteria, but what happens to that creepy creature? Does it just break up and come out on its own? It just seems odd that a doctor wouldn't try to wash things out somehow and get the blockage out of your sinuses in the first place, if the blockage is what's causing the infection. Or is that what ENTs do?
Maybe I never did get the Snot Clot cleared out after prior infections, and that's why, after NEVER having had a sinus infection in my life despite hayfever, colds, flu and even about of double pneumonia, I have suddenly started getting them in the past two years after every little cold and flu, even mild ones. In that case, I'm freaking THRILLED to have gotten that monster out of my sinuses. I'm thrilled anyway, but even more so if it has possibly been the root of all the sinus evil I have had over the past two years. From the looks of it, this thing had been up there a long time. It practically had hair and teeth.
We'll see how things go...my fingers are crossed for improved health and LOTS more sleep for everyone.
From my pal Tina Kugler, one of the funniest people I know, and creator of my TPB website logo:
Her caption: "i've realized that, really, the only time i'm not clenching my teeth is when i'm yelling. because even if one of the kids is actually being good, that means another one is not...
p.s. if you tilt your head, the drawing on the right is also what i look like when i'm sleeping."
I have been utterly amiss in updating this blog for the past month. Not because nothing is happening...au contraire, mes chers amis, au-fucking-contraire.
I don't even know where to begin, except to say that I have been struggling mightily with motherhood, and work, but mostly with motherhood.
The total, complete and utter loss of Me Time and Personal Space is hard to deal with. I have not read a book since Adrian was born, 18 months ago. This is a new world record for me, the Bookworm.
The constant noise is hard to deal with. Screaming and whining are hard to deal with.
Having my body parts constantly yanked, bonked, pulled, pinched, slapped, tapped and suckled on is a challenge.
Lack of sleep is a big one. Especially when you are awakened by someone headbutting you and screaming in your ear...."MOOOOMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEE!"
Fighting and arguing and one kid pushing/hitting/pinching another...not fun.
Never being in any public space without being on Red Fucking Alert that a big screamfest might be coming along any moment.
Broken, tattered, chewed, smashed, drawn on with crayon....all possibilities for my cherished personal items.
Yesterday Adrian broke the rear windshield wiper off my car. Just reached up, grabbed it, and yanked it off. Today he smashed a huge mug of sweet tea all over the bathroom, and then, an hour later, smashed a freshly prepared plate of lunch for Julian all over the kitchen floor. He was on my back and reached out and grabbed it with his FOOT, people.
It used to be that people thought I was 5-6 years younger than my actual age. Now? I don't know, but I feel about 90. I look in the mirror and see a haggard, stressed out person looking back at me. Where did all those wrinkles and lines come from?
It's not just stress and lack of sleep, and yelling. It's falling asleep while laying down with the baby, without washing your face or brushing your teeth. It's about being too tired to moisturize. It's about being forgetting to put on sunscreen before leaving the house for the day. It's about not having time to drive up to San Francisco to see my dermatologist, and hoping that I don't have a malignant melanoma festering away on my back in the meantime.
Obviously, it's not just me who feels this way. Tina's in the thick of it too. She's got THREE kids, for god's sake.
Here she is with 13 of her 18 kids. They look happy enough. But that poor woman is only FORTY-FOUR YEARS OLD. She looks at least sixty-five.
It will get better, I know. The kids will grow up and get older and won't be so high-need, and I'll have time to read books and put on moisturizer and sleep more than 4 hours at a stretch. The pinching and screaming will stop. The whining will die down.
And don't get me wrong, it's not all bad. My kids are super-cute and *generally* well-behaved, it's just that they are small children, and small children? I'm starting to think that I don't like them all that much, you know?
Julian's starting to come out of it at 4.5yo. Most of the time we get along just fine, although he is maddening us at the moment by refusing to eat anything, and weeping/wailing/whining semi-continuously.
Adrian is 18 months, and he is a cross between a hurricane, the Tasmanian Devil, and a jet plane taking off next to your head. Good thing he's adorable when he's not breaking my plates, or my eardrums.
At this particular moment in time, each day is a long, hard slog of sheer endurance to the bedtime finish line, punctuated by moments of cuteness, comedy, and pure love.
Only four more years until they're both in school. Yes!
REASON #1
------------------------------------------------------ Mom in New York finds snake in crib, coiled around baby's leg
By the Associated Press
Article Launched: 06/11/2008 07:51:17 AM PDT
BRENTWOOD, N.Y. - A woman who awoke to her baby's cries was shocked to peer into the crib and find a foot-long snake wrapped around her 7-month-old daughter's leg.
Cari Abatemarco said she was visiting family in the Long Island town of Brentwood last week when she made the startling discovery.
"Once I lifted her up and the snake fell off of her, she stopped crying. But then I was the one crying all night," Abatemarco told Newsday. She was in town from Troy, in upstate New York.
A relative removed the hissing snake from the crib with a back scratcher, and placed it in a bucket until animal control officers arrived. The child was unharmed.
The reptile, identified as a non-venomous California king snake, didn't belong to Abatemarco's family members. Officials say they don't know where the snake came from.
The animal is being cared for at a Long Island animal shelter.
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REASON #2
------------------------------------------------------ 3-month-old Phoenix girl killed by ants during nap
Susan Carroll and Judi Villa
published in the Arizona Republic
May 20, 2003 12:00 AM
A 3-month-old girl was killed by ants while she was napping in a crib at a baby-sitter's home Monday afternoon, Phoenix police said.
The caregiver, who has not been identified, put the infant down for a nap about 1:30 p.m., police Detective Tony Morales said.
When she went to check on the little girl a half-hour later, she was covered in ants and was in "severe respiratory distress," he said.
Autumn White had "hundreds of ant bites" on her legs and her throat was swollen, Assistant Phoenix Fire Chief Bob Khan said. She was not breathing when firefighters arrived at the home near 83rd Avenue and Mohave Street.
"A child that age probably just couldn't take the venom," Morales said.
Khan said the baby may have had an allergic reaction, with the poison from the ants causing her respiratory problems.
At least 40 deaths occur annually in the United States from reactions to insect stings. A severe allergic reaction, anaphylaxis, occurs in 0.5 to 5 percent of the country's population, ccording to the American Academy of Allergy, Asthma and Immunology. Children and senior citizens are more vulnerable.
"Their resistance is less," Khan said. "They don't have the ability to recover like adults do."
Autumn was flown to St. Joseph's Hospital and Medical Center. After the little girl died, firefighters again were dispatched to the home, where the baby-sitter was so distraught that she was taken to an emergency room for treatment.
The black ants in the baby-sitter's home were about one-eighth of an inch long and apparently crawled into the home between the carpeting and the wall, police said.
Neighbors in the new, upscale tract home development in southwest Phoenix said they started noticing more ants when daily temperatures started rising.
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REASON #3
----------------------------------------------
Our neighbor went over to a friend's house to visit, leaving her husband in charge of the kids. The older boy went to bed, but the younger one (around 18 months at the time) refused to go to sleep.
He was playing with an empty soda can and started screaming and freaking out. The father was sick of him not sleeping and sick of listening to him scream, so he put him in his room alone. The child kept screaming and would not calm down.
Finally the father went in to check on the child and found his crib full of blood. Apparently the child had cut himself on the empty can (stuck his finger in the hole, presumably) and had a fairly deep cut that was bleeding profusely.
This was passed on to me by the friend whose house the mother was visiting. The father panicked and called for the mother to come home immediately. The child had lost quite a bit of blood by that time.
I'm not sure why the father didn't notice the child's bleeding finger when he put him in his crib. Maybe it was dark?
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REASON #4
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My own baby (16mo at the time) was sleeping in his bed at around 9:30pm. I was visiting with a houseguest in the backyard, out on the porch, and heard my baby wake up and start screaming.
Having company, I was tempted to let him cry for a minute to see if he would go back to sleep, but I got up and went to him. Ninety-five percent of the time when he cries at night he either has to pee, has *just* peed in his diaper, is hot/cold, or is sick.
He had tried to crawl off the end of the bed for some reason, and had gotten wedged between the bed and a rocking chair. He wasn't hurt, but he was very scared.
Normally he stays in bed until I come to him. Occasionally he will climb over the side and get out of bed if he wakes up, then he comes to find me. He must have gotten confused in the dark and thought the end of the bed was the side. Anyway, I'm REALLY glad I went to him quickly!
May 24th, 2008 | BERLIN -- Authorities in southern Germany have taken custody of a 7-month-old boy after his parents posted an ad on eBay offering to sell him for one euro, or about $1.60.
Police spokesman Peter Hieber says the baby was placed in the care of youth services in the southwestern Allgaeu region.
Hieber said on Saturday that the mother told police the Internet ad was only a joke. Authorities have begun an investigation into possible child trafficking against the parents.
No offers were made for the child in the two hours and 30 minutes the ad was posted. The Internet auction site deleted the posting later.
Several people who saw the ad alerted police.
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Ugh, I feel so sorry for those parents. Who doesn't feel like selling a 7-month old from time to time? I make that joke about selling my kids on eBay at least once a week. I haven't actually gone as far as to create a posting for them, but come on...child trafficking, for gods sake. Give me a break.
I would go for at least 20 Euros, but offer free shipping.
This story is great on so many levels. First.. a policewoman, second...a breastfeeding policewoman, third... a breastfeeding policewoman who is a lifesaving hero (shero?), and fourth...a breastfeeding policewoman who is a lifesaving hero and modestly considers it all just part of her job.
I have the feeling that if this were to happen here though, someone would be taking her to court.
JIANGYOU, China (CNN) -- A Chinese policewoman is being hailed as a hero after taking it upon herself to breast-feed several infants who were separated from their mothers or orphaned by China's devastating earthquake.
Police officer Jiang Xiaojuan, 29, was feeding nine babies at one point.
Officer Jiang Xiaojuan, 29, the mother of a 6-month-old boy, responded to the call of duty and the instincts of motherhood when the magnitude 7.9 quake struck on May 12.
"I am breast-feeding, so I can feed babies. I didn't think of it much," she said. "It is a mother's reaction, and a basic duty as a police officer to help."
The death toll in the earthquake jumped Thursday to more than 51,000, and more than 29,000 are missing, according to government figures. Thousands of children have been orphaned; many others have mothers who simply can't feed them.
At one point, Jiang was feeding nine babies.
"Some of the moms were injured, their fathers were dead ... five of them were orphans. They've gone away to an orphanage now," she said. Watch the officer care for babies »
She still feeds two babies, including Zhao Lyuyang, son of a woman who survived the quake but whose breast milk stopped flowing because of the traumatic conditions.
"We walked out of the mountains for a long time. I hadn't eaten in days when I got here and my milk was not enough," said that mother, Zhao Zong Jun. "She saved my baby. I thank her so much, I can't express how I feel."
Liu Rong, another mother whose breast milk stopped in the trauma, was awed by Jiang's kindness.
"I am so touched because she has her own baby, but she fed the disaster babies first," Liu said. "If she hadn't fed my son, he wouldn't have had enough to eat."
Jiang has became a celebrity, followed by local media and proclaimed on a newspaper front page as "China's Mother No. 1."
She's embarrassed by the fuss.
"I think what I did was normal," she said. "In a quake zone, many people do things for others. This was a small thing, not worth mentioning." See the quake zone »
There has been a huge outpouring of support from families who want to adopt babies orphaned by the quake. But that process takes time and there are mouths to feed.
Jiang misses her own son, who's being cared for through the emergency by in-laws in another town, but she is aware of the new connections she's made.
"I feel about these kids I fed just like my own. I have a special feeling for them. They are babies in a disaster."
Not what your parents did. I'm talking about what your great-grandparents did with their babies.
It turns out that what they did jives pretty closely with what we modern moms do. I was reading "Infant Care" by Mary Mills West from 1923, and most of it was exactly what you read in standard childcare manuals today.
Baby care doesn't really change all too much over time. Being a good mother and taking care of your baby was hard back then:
Oh my god, can I just tattoo that last sentence on my bicep? Or at least have it printed on a T-shirt. Amen sister, amen. Being a good mother and taking care of your baby is still hard today.
I literally fall into bed at the end of each day, completely and utterly wiped out. Chasing after two boys is like running a marathon every single day. Well, Julian is not bad at this point, but Adrian requires constant monitoring, following, redirection and retrieval.
On other topics... breast was best back then, just as it is today. "Artificial milk" sounds pretty bad though, it was basically scalded cow's milk with sugar added.
But look here, what's this?
A soap stick! Yikes, glad I never had any issue with getting my kids to poop on the potty. Well, it took Adrian until he was about 3 months old to get down with the program in that regard, but it turns out that he just wanted to be held on the big toilet, like the big people. Once he wasn't so floppy and I was able to hold him there on my lap, no problem. He started happily doing his daily poops in the toilet like the rest of the family.
Granted, it does say to just use the soap stick for 2-3 days max, to get things started, but wow. That is definitely an old-school idea from another era. My grandparents were all about enemas and suppositories. My grandfather loved to joke with me about this..."Better give her an enema!" he would call out to my grandmother if I was misbehaving, and then shoot me a wink. I thought that was a hysterical joke too, probably because I've never had one. And because it had to do with butts, and butts are always funny.
The manual is totally right though...establishing regularity of habit is a big help, and not just for pottying. As a single person, I used to be very freestyle about things and I didn't like routines very much. I relished doing different things at different times. The longer I mother these kids of mine though, the more I learn how crucial daily routines are to their general well-being. If they can eat, sleep and poop at pretty much the same time every day, they thrive. One day of late meals, late bedtimes or missed naps and all hell breaks loose. Major crabbiness ensues, the burden of which falls squarely on me. And we all know that if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. A crabby Mama does not make for a happy household.
Anyway, not bad for 1923. In some ways I'll bet it's better advice than a manual from say, 1953. You can read the whole manual at the first link in this post. Quite interesting.
This week my babysitter Kim was out of town, as I mentioned in my previous post.
I started off the week thinking, oh, this is so great spending all this time with the kids. At the end of a week and a half of it, I'm thinking childlessness sounds pretty good. Yeesh.
I do OK when I can just let go of everything, but the thing is...I can't. I can't just let my customers wait forever for returned phone calls and orders shipping out. I can't let the house become a complete wreck, although it's constantly threatening to become that even WITH Beh here MWF.
So I race around trying to cram stuff in and slightly panicking at the thought of how far behind I've gotten, and then I start snapping at the kids and they get snappy and high-need right back and there you go.
While I am desperately trying to achieve the smallest task, Adrian runs around wreaking complete havoc. He deconstructs everything he touches. Pulls all the Tupperware out onto the floor of the kitchen. Turns trash cans upside down. Tears apart new disposable diapers. And while I am kept busy cleaning up the trail of destruction, he is meanwhile standing on top of a wobbly chair near some sharp points of furniture, waving his arms in the air. I just get EXHAUSTED.
It's like some ridiculous farce at times...this whole Buster Keaton act of Adrian's. I look away for a second (oh say, to deal with the whiny demands of a certain 4yo), look back and Adrian's dangling from the face of a clock 12 stories up above a busy city street. Not really, but almost.
Well, not really, but sort of. My babysitter Kim has been on vacation since last week, so I decided to just take it easy on work and spend the time with the kids while she is gone. Kim was nice enough to find a substitute to fill in while she is gone, but J and A aren't the kinds of kids who happily latch onto just anyone. I'm sure Adrian would be freaking out with a new person, and I'd end up having to hold him most of the time anyway. So why bother paying money for the disappointed expectation that I'll actually be able to get some work done? Might as well just skip it.
On that note, I've been taking the kids to the playground, on long walks, kicking the ball around the backyard in the afternoons, that kind of thing. The stuff I used to do all the time, but now rarely get a chance to because of this whole *business* thing.
Don't get me wrong, I love my business and am totally grateful for it becoming a success so far. But I have been working every spare moment of the day and night for a year now, and quite a bit for the two years before that. It's crazy. I'm about to hire a shipping/receiving person to take that piece over from me, and it will be a relief. Of course I still have to interview several people, and train the person chosen. Not exactly easy, but oh well. Growing pains are inevitable.
I feel like I've been missing out lately. For example, Adrian is having a major, major developmental burst right now. It's so much fun to be with him and watch him evolve new skills, sometimes in the span of a single day.
Last week I finally realized that Adrian has been saying not just "Ehhhh DAT!", but actually "I WANT THAT". Like hello, a full-on three word sentence! Kim pointed it out to me a few weeks ago, but I didn't really HEAR it until recently. Then I repeated to him, "I want that!" and he totally enunciated it. Which makes me feel like a complete moron for not clueing in until now.
He also says:
"There he is!" (when someone like Julian or Daddy comes in the room)
"Look!" (to show me something that he finds interesting)
"Ick!" (trash or icky stuff)
and brand new as of yesterday, but in full and frequent use today:
"Uh-oh!" (indicating that something has gone wrong, fallen, spilled, broken, etc. A VERY frequent occurrence around here)
and then the old standby "Doggie!", which was his first word, and which was Julian's first word as well. This word is often blended with "Daddy" so that we don't know which one he's saying. Sometimes he does a chanted medley of "Doggie, doggie, doggie, doddy, daddy, doggie, daddy, daddy, daddy, doggie, daddy..."
Other new developments:
He points to his crotch when he has to go potty! This one is quite awesome. He gets my attention and then says "Dat!" while pointing to his crotch. He even did it at the dentist the other day. I took him in the bathroom and he took a huge pee in the toilet. Not too shabby for a 14 month old.
Tonight at bedtime he got my attention, made the "milk" sign and then pointed to the rocking chair in his bedroom. He even went over to it and patted it, like "Sit HERE." Very clear...he does not want to be nursed to sleep in the bed, he wants to be rocked and nursed to sleep in the rocking chair. OK! And then he went to sleep like a little lamb, rocked and nursed in said chair.
He has a huge interest in dogs, birds, and most animals. He says "DOGGIE!" loudly and excitedly any time he sees a dog. The tiniest little bird chirp outside also has his immediate attention. We have a very active bird nest on the front porch, and every time I take him out there he points to it excitedly and makes a little chirpy sound.
He makes a "playing boy noise" that is completely adorable. He will get a toy car, or a toy plane, or even a toy animal, and while moving it around he makes a noise like "kshhhhhhhh", except it's in this little baby voice...so unbelievably cute. It's like the embryonic version of Julian making car vroom noises, or animal growling noises.
Tonight he had a toy alligator in the bath and was making the "kshhh!" noise with it, then he had a little picture book before bed and in it was a photo of an alligator. He pointed to it, said "Look!" and then made the growling/vrooming noise. Cute!
I keep trying to film this stuff on my Flip, but as soon as I break it out he and Julian want to come and grab the camera and watch videos on it. Makes it very difficult to capture anything...frustrating. I feel like every video ends with an outstretched hand reaching towards the camera.
I've been testing him with little things, like I say "Let's go outside!" or "Put it in the trash!" and he responds by leading me outside or putting a piece of paper in the trash. He understands! So now I'm making a big effort to *explain* things to him, rather than just treating him like a passive participant.
He gives delicious little kisses. He comes at me and sort of mouths the point of my chin. Sometimes in the morning he wakes up and sleepily presses his open mouth against my cheek for a few seconds, then makes a little smack noise afterwards, like a real kiss. Can't begin to tell you how sweet it is to wake up to sweet and loving baby boy kisses, it's worth all the middle-of-the-night headbutting.
I am doing a lot of signing with him, but so far apart from "milk" (which he uses way too frequently!) he hasn't signed back to me. I THINK he signed "More milk" yesterday, two signs together, but I might have been imagining it. Or maybe not. He does understand the signs I use with him, he just doesn't do them back to me yet...except for "milk". Just like Julian.
I think pointing to his crotch is a great potty sign. Much easier than trying to do a "shaking T" (for toilet) in ASL...which is not so simple for little hands. But anyone can understand the crotch-pointing.
Julian is also having a burst in his verbal skills as well. Today he used new and surprisingly advanced words *four* times to describe things. Now ask me what those words were...I can't tell you. Don't remember. Mommy brain. I just remember being surprised and thrilled four times today by something that Julian said, a turn of phrase, an idiomatic expression or big new word used properly in context. I swear I'll commit them to memory from now on. At least *one* to use as an example. Argh.
I'm getting rather desperately behind in my work, but eh...as long as I get stuff shipped out within a decent timeframe, I don't feel too bad. I do feel bad about sitting here writing this when I'm so behind on customer emails, but then again, this is a bit more important overall.
Tomorrow is a full day. I have a Pilates Reformer class in the morning, which I really enjoy, then it's off to work at Julian's preschool (with Adrian on my back the whole time), then home for lunch and THEN hopefully I can get some work done. I bought new wire shelving for the other wall in the garage, so hope to nearly double my storage space. Plus I got a sweet new shipping table for the middle of the garage, so I no longer have to pack boxes on top of the freezer chest, for crying out loud, and I can store boxes underneath. But yeah, now to assemble all this new stuff and get it organized. Sigh. Plus keep shipping on a regular schedule, moving towards hiring someone, updating my website, etc. Very, very overwhelming.
But I'm trying not to think about that right now. I'm thinking about my little boys, and what a nice week we've had so far, and how fast this time goes before it's gone.
With the warming spring weather, I've been letting Adrian toodle around nakeybutt, which he greatly enjoys. I spend a lot of time out in the garage packing up orders, so I put a sun hat, long-sleeved shirt, socks and shoes on Adrian and he runs around outside, chasing DOGGIE! and his big brother, and stopping to pee in the grass and then point it out to whoever might be around. DAT!
This, on top of our regular EC pottying routine, has meant that very few diapers are being used around here lately. A few if we are out in the car, or when Adrian is with his babysitter Kim, and one at night.
Well, Baby Boy just came over to me in my office, pointed to his penis and said "DAT!", very urgently and enthusiastically. I set him on his potty and a huge pee ensued. He stood up, pointed at the potty with the pee inside, showed me what he had done (again with the DAT!) and took off to go play some more.
I love this age, 14 months old.
I love EC.
I love Spring!
Life is good.
Whoa, four years. You are like, this BIG BOY now. I can't believe it. You can hold rational conversations with big words and everything. And of course, still be totally impossible at times.
Well, aren't we all.
I'm so excited to hang out with a big four-year-old boy. Wow, you can do all kinds of things now. I think back to your birthday last year, when your baby brother was brand new, and no comparison. You were just a little boy then, and you are definitely a whole different boy now, with all kinds of ideas and opinions and my oh my...don't you love to debate with me on some of them. That's fine, I don't mind a good debate from time to time.
We had a good day today, didn't we? It wasn't too fancy or anything, but we packed in some fun today. Started off with you and your brother at Kids' Club while I went to a Pilates class. You love Kids' Club, and you love it even more when your baby brother doesn't cry and scream and embarrass you with his ear-splitting loudness. Today he wasn't loud and he didn't scream. He must have known that it was your birthday. What a nice brother. Mommy was glad about the not-screaming too.
After Kids' Club, it was time for school. There are a bunch of kids with food allergies at your school, but Mommy found a gluten & dairy-free brownie mix at Trader Joe's, and got some veggie chips and strawberry fruit leathers too, and brought them to school for a party snack.
The kids are used to getting rice cakes for a snack at your school, which seems like a nasty snack to me (styrofoam, anyone?), so they were all pretty damn happy to see veggie chips and strawberry fruit leather and brownies. Big success!
You got to pick a story for Miss Marianne to read to the class, and you wore a crown at the snack table, like a Birthday King. You are so cute.
You played Hide and Seek with your friends today at school, and it consisted of all you kids counting randomly (14! 17! 28! 29! 30!) and then all rushing off like a swarm of bees. Not sure who you were seeking, or who was hiding.....maybe a little unclear on the concept? But everyone had fun, and that's the important part.
Then we went home, got a snack, took Baby Brother potty, and headed off to the playground for a spell....then to the toy store to pick out a birthday toy, and finally to Baskin-Robbins to get a quart of strawberry ice cream at the drive-up window.
By the way...whoever invented the DRIVE-THROUGH ICE CREAM WINDOW should win a Nobel Prize. Best thing ever. Oh wait, there is *one* thing better than drive-through ice cream, and I'll get to that in my next post. But back to Julian's birthday.
So, we got home with the ice cream and set up your miniature golf course (the present you picked out). I made a yummy dinner with lamb tenderloins, broccoli, and carrots. It took a little persuading to get you to eat your broccoli, and then it was on to the ice cream, with FOUR candles on top.
What a fun day...we just played and played and played. Good times! I'm so proud of you. You are so smart, and so sweet and loving, and even very polite when you want to be. Happy birthday, my dear boy!
Happy birthday to my baby boy! This has been the longest and shortest year of my life. And hey, I'll bet you can say the same.
Your arrival was not quite textbook. Oh, if I had it to do over again! I would have taken you in my arms and nursed you as soon as I could have crawled into that NICU. I'm sorry things turned out the way they did.
Now that I know you better, I know that you were just FREAKED OUT at being suddenly removed from your nice cozy home without warning, and then...no mama! You are the world's happiest baby until you are removed from your mama, and then all hell breaks loose. You hyperventilate, scream, lose your mind. For all I know, your blood chemistry goes nuts too.
If you were being monitored in a hospital setting on the average day, you'd be committed to the NICU for evaluation every time I walked out into the garage to feed the dog, or took something out of the freezer. I'm LEEEEEEAVING YOU! Just for a sec, but still....unacceptable! Separation anxiety is just your thing. I know you'll grow out of it.
Anyway, my heart still breaks when I think of you laying in that plastic bin at the hospital with an IV stuck in your head, and then later in your tiny heel. Those tiny hands, black and blue from blood draws. Not even being able to hold you for two days! The agony....I'm positive that you just needed your mama to hold you. A high respiratory rate? Yeah, no kidding! You still do that when you are upset and not comforted immediately. Hyperventilation and total flipout. Deafening screams.
When you came home you just slept and slept and slept. Poor thing, you picked up a cold from your brother within two days of arriving in your new home, so life wasn't exactly easy once you got out of the hospital. Sorry about that. Not much I could have done. Your brother was not really having fun either. His mama left and went to the hospital, and then cried and cried and cried until her eyes swelled shut, and then she came home and got very busy with you, and has been very busy with you ever since.
After you were done sleeping all the time, you started screaming all the time. I wrote a Post from Shitville around that point. THAT was rough. I thought I was going to lose my mind, and I'll bet you weren't having fun either.
I went into major research mode to figure out what to do with you. I gave you probiotics, stopped all dairy consumption, and used every technique in The Happiest Baby on the Block on you. Thank GOD for the swing, that's all I have to say. And the Miracle Blanket. I think I would have sold you on eBay otherwise. Jesus Christ.
But you got better and better, and screamed less and less. You grew, and grew, and grew...amazing darn near everyone with your size and weight. Now you seem to have settled down at about 28 pounds, thank goodness. Before that you were putting on pounds at an astounding rate.
Juggling two kids has not been easy for me. It's a whole new level of multitasking, and you know, shhhhh....don't tell anyone, but I'm not so good at multitasking. I'm the kind of person who needs to sit down to a task and focus, without any interruptions, without anyone bothering me. Interruptions throw me for a loop. My life is now a constant series of interruptions. I have a maximum of 5 minutes to do anything before I get called away to attend to something else. It's a killer for me. Sometimes I deal well, sometimes I get mad at you guys for driving me nuts with your constant neediness. Oh well. I'm getting better at it. I'm becoming more patient. You and your brother are also getting older and easier to care for too. The future looks bright.
The good part is...you and your brother are a ton of fun. You are super-duper-cute together, and you mostly get along really well and love each other enormously.
Your big brother is so proud of everything you do. "Look! He's walking! He's standing up by himself!" We hear that daily from him, even though you have been standing up by yourself and walking for some time now. He's still totally excited for you.
You adore him too. If the two of you are sitting together, you will suddenly launch yourself onto him and take him down in a giant bear hug. Then you try to eat his nose, which is your idea of kissing. The two of you stay locked together, cooing like doves and happy as clams. Your big brother pretends that he doesn't like baby hugs sometimes, but the big grin on his face says otherwise.
I still can't believe what good hair you have. Damn, you had it right from the very beginning, and it's not over yet. You still have great hair. Lucky kid...most kids are still cueballs at your age. May it last a good, long time, and may Male Pattern Baldness not rob you of your prize too soon.
Everything else on you is ultra-cute too. You have great everything. All parts of you are enormously delicious. Smooth creamy skin, pretty blue eyes, round little butt, pudgy dimpled hands, rosebud lips. The only thing on you that ever *wasn't* adorable was your umbilical hernia, but we even missed that for a while once it was gone. Your belly button looks normal now. No one will ever know that you once had a Nub.
Of course you are brilliant, and have a burning curiosity towards everything. Once I show you how to do something, you figure it out FAST. Today you were bouncing on the trampoline and you went to get off. Normally you try to come down face first, but I've been showing you how to get down legs first, and today you did it effortlessly, all on your own. Easy as pie.
The only thing that you haven't picked up immediately has been sign language. I've been signing to you for a while now, not as consistently as I should, but fairly often. You know that the signs mean, and you have done "milk" and "more" a few times, but you seem to know that pointing at things will clue me in, so why both with signs?
I'm not worried, your brother did the same thing. He ignored all signs until one day he began to sign like crazy. It made life much easier to know that he wanted a "drink", for example, and not more food. So let me clue you in right here...signing is a good thing. It will help me figure out what you want, and get it to you faster. Work with me on that, OK?
You do use pointing very effectively. The other night you woke up and started crying and screaming, then you pointed to the floor next to the bed, where I had your potty. I took you out of bed and you did a huge pee in the potty. When you were done, you pointed to the bed again. Roger, loud and clear! You make yourself understood very well for a year-old baby.
I like it when you show me things that you find interesting. "Dat!" you say, and you point to a bird, or a dog, or a tree, or whatever is piquing your interest. You're a very sweet, generous boy, and you like to share your pleasures with others.
You like to brush your teeth, and you like to brush my teeth too. You like to eat food, and feed me food. You were enjoying looking at your birthday card from Julian earlier, and when you see it again (in the video above) the first thing you do is pass it to Daddy so that he can see it too. So thoughtful of you. You are such a little sweetheart.
You came down with a cold last night after your party. Sorry about that. It's so miserable for you to be sick. You ooze goo from all orifices. Your eyes tear up, your nose runs like a faucet, your poop gets runny, you drool like a maniac. Not so fun. You don't sleep either. I have to hold you in my arms all night, propped up so that you don't drown in your own snot. Rough on mama and rough on you. Get well soon, OK?
Alright, well it's time for you to go potty, and I need to put you on my back and get some work done before the mail carrier comes.
I love you, my baby. It's been rough at times, but I can't imagine life without you and your sweet little smile, your soft fluffy hair, your little voice. Stick around, something tells me that this is going to get even better as time goes on.
Just think, next year you will be able to kick a ball! Ride a trike! The possibilities are endless....
Adrian is doing a lot of walking these days. I wouldn't call it his primary form of transportation just yet. It's more like a fun alternative way to get around.
He sees the clear advantages of it though...today he was out in the garage with me while I was packing up orders and it is COLD out there, especially when you are right on the bare concrete floor. Smart boy, he was walking EVERYWHERE to keep himself up off the chilly concrete.
If he really needs to jam, like say... if he hears food going into the dog's bowl, he will drop down and speed-crawl like a maniac. But for casual short jaunts, it's all about the Frankenwalk.
They didn't scream, she didn't quit, I didn't throw myself under a bus!
My new nanny/babysitter started today. BTW, is "babysitter" considered to be a pejorative term these days? Suddenly everyone is a nanny, which I think of more as a full-time, live-in kind of caregiver. But I digress...
Anyway, Kim started today. She was awesome. She carried Adrian around on her back in one of my carriers while she played soccer, baseball, basketball AND football with Julian. I gave her a quick lesson in how to get him on her back, and she took it from there.
There was NO screaming from Mr. Baby. He fussed a little when I had to answer the door and come into his line of sight, but otherwise he seemed happy as a clam.
Julian had so much fun he almost exploded. He was utterly wiped after she left; he had a full-blown exhausted meltdown and went to bed early.
I got some work done without having to juggle two kids and going crazy as a result.
We all had fun! Hooray for Kim the lifesaver!
She is also able to help me with my business, which I am really psyched about. I desperately need to catch up on instructional videos, product detail shots, etc. I have about ten products that are just sitting in my garage not being sold at all, because I don't have time to get them up on my website. How sad is that? It's REALLY sad, I 'll tell you.
She's a graphic designer by training, so I can also pass off all my Photoshop busywork to her. Making thumbnails, stuff like that. She can probably do layouts too.
I'm so happy! Just one thing Kim, please don't move away. Don't get married, or divorced. Don't go on any extended vacations. Don't suddenly hate small children. I need you Kim. I need you in my life BAD. Stay Kim, stay.
Dan and I took the kids to the Palo Alto Baylands this afternoon for a nice walk in the marshes at sunset. It was beautiful, but Julian was acting a bit crazy. He has been yelling really loudly all day long. Guess it's just one of those days.
Meanwhile I'm on Night 3 of Very Little Sleep due to Adrian thrashing around half the night for unknown reasons. So I'm running on fumes.
Anyway, it was a lovely walk and we were hungry afterwards, so I offered to take the family to dinner in Palo Alto. We haven't been out in a million years. And now I remember why...WE HAVE TWO SMALL CHILDREN.
We drove downtown, parked, and walked around looking for a place to eat that wasn't too fancy, too slow-serving, or too spicy. We saw a groovy Indian place, and took note for a possible future date night. We saw Facebook's offices...didn't know they were headquartered in downtown Palo Alto. Saw a sushi place that looked kid-friendly, but we do sushi take-out all the time, and I was hoping for something new.
Finally I spotted a tapas place. Mmmmm, tapas. Small dishes, informal setting...sounded good. We entered...and all hell broke loose.
Adrian saw food and immediately started screeching, demanding that I put it IN HIS MOUTH RIGHT NOW! He thrashed around, wildly grabbing at spoons, napkins, menus. Where is that food! I know it's here somewhere! SCREEEEECH!
Julian, normally a well-behaved diner, was in rare form as well. He was standing up in the booth and answering all conversation with, "Don't say that!" in a semi-hysterical tone of voice.
I ordered a pitcher of sangria and hoped that bread would arrive soon, as I kept wrestling Adrian away from the objects on the table, and tried to distract him from further screeching, or throwing spoons to the floor with a loud clang.
Garlic shrimp and sangria arrived, with bread. Hallelujah! Adrian started chewing a piece of baguette and quieted down temporarily. Julian actually ate an entire shrimp, plus bread. It was delicious. Dan and I wolfed down shrimp at an insane pace.
Then all hell broke loose again. Adrian decided that he didn't like bread anymore. He threw it down and refused all further attempts to put it in his mouth. I tried to give him some tortilla espanola, he refused that too. He drank a little water, and then the screeching began again.
I yanked up my shirt as the screeching decibel level rose, and tried to latch him onto my Failsafe Tool of Last Resort. He grudgingly nursed a little bit, then rejected it and screeched some more. I felt my brain melting inside my skull and flowing out through my ears. WHY oh WHY did we bring our offspring out to a restaurant...just for the pure torture value of it? Why did we have kids at all? Look at all these happy, tranquil people around us...clean, well-rested, stylishly dressed...enjoying a quiet happy hour at the bar with half-price drinks. Holding uninterrupted intelligent conversations, no less!
And then there was our table...covered in half-chewed splotches of bread, with piercing shrieks and wails assaulting the ears of anyone unfortunate enough to be seated in our vicinity. All silverware and plates shoved to the far end of the table, away from the marauding Mr. Baby. One slightly disheveled father vainly offering food to an unwilling and loudly protesting 3.5 year old (imagine...EATING in a restaurant! the nerve!), and one exhausted, grimacing mother wrestling a large baby in an attempt to keep him from overturning the table, in between hasty gulps of sangria rosada (which was a mistake, as it gave me a headache later without providing any discernible stress relief in the meantime).
We finished up the last morsels of Lemon and Garlic Chicken and skedaddled. The aroma of Hot and Bothered Dog wafted out of the car as I opened the back hatch to check on Bugs, not at all happy about being left there while we went to go eat.
The streets outside were full of happy Friday evening revelers, blocking traffic and stranding us on the exit ramp of the parking garage at a precarious tilt uphill, while the tired kids yowled in their carseats. Not like it was that late, it was only 6:45pm, mind you.
I was cursing all pedestrians, all cars in front of us who failed to pull out into traffic in a timely manner. And WHAT was all this traffic anyways? Oh right, Friday evenings. Normal civilians like to go out on Friday evenings to celebrate their lack of small children. I felt 95 years old.
When we got home I checked the Evite for a party that we were attending the following evening. Nearly every confirming attendee wrote something along the lines of, "We got a babysitter! Can't wait to party, see you there!"
No, we do not have a babysitter. I am working on one, she starts next week. She Whose Hearing Shall Be Assaulted by Unending Screams from Mr. Baby, aka Mama's Boy Who Shall Not Be Put Down. Oh, and Julian, aka LOOKIT! LOOKIT ME! LOOK!
So tonight we'll go to the party from 5-6:30pm, then come home, put the kids to bed (a two-parent task), and Dan will return to the party while I maintain my lonely vigil at home as Keeper of the Lactating Breasts.
I know this period will be over soon enough, and Dan and I will be wondering, "Dang, those kids are away at college already? How did the time fly like that?" But right now time is moving VERY SLOWLY. A good night's sleep, an uninterrupted hour of reading, a bathtub all to myself, a dinner out without worry and hurry...those all seem a million miles away right now.
Good thing these kids are so cute and (mostly) sweet, or I'd be really pissed. But I think it's all just a function of me never getting a break. Bring on the babysitter! And let's hope she doesn't quit.
I have been something of a hermit for the last few months. I've been swamped with work, or else one or both of the kids are sick, or I am. I've been wasting the summer as an ant, when I should be a little bit more of a grasshopper. Being an ant all the time makes me cranky, stressed, and a bad mother. I need to get out!
So for the past week I've been taking the kids on expeditions again. We went to the Body Worlds 2 exposition, on a long walk along the Los Gatos Creek Trail, and yesterday we went to the Emma Prusch Farm Park. Today we're going to the Palo Alto Baylands to hike along the San Francisco Bay, birdwatch, and check out all the little private planes taking off and landing at the teeny tiny Palo Alto Airport.
I haven't gotten a damn thing done workwise this week, but I feel better. I'm not too worried about it, as I have a nanny/babysitter starting next Monday 3 days a week. I'm going to give her some earplugs so that Adrian's screaming doesn't deafen her when he figures out that SOME NON-MOMMY PERSON WILL BE HOLDING HIM! He's deep in separation anxiety mode, and screams bloody murder when I so much as put him down or leave his line of sight. Two weeks ago he was all about Daddy, this week Daddy is the Horrible Non-Mommy Thing. He might as well be the Anti-Christ.
This phase is HARD. I love him to pieces, but even prisoners get time to eat and sleep. I sleep in 1-2 hour chunks and bolt food down at light speed whenever Adrian isn't on my back or my lap. Table manners? Ha! I'd use a shovel to eat with if I could. Just dump my dinner in a trough and mix it all together for me. It's fine.
While at the Farm Park yesterday we were walking next to a big barn and saw a shed with a big CAUTION: POISON sign on it. And a picture like this:
Julian asked me, "What does THAT say?"
"It says, 'CAUTION: POISON'. It means we should stay away from that shed."
"Oh." (Thinking hard...) "So the *pirates* don't get us?"
I just about died laughing. Because OBVIOUSLY skull and crossbones are a sign of pirates, not poison, for crying out loud. Look, here's the Jolly Roger. The same!
And now I can see why some advocates want to eliminate the skull and crossbones completely as a symbol of poison, and go for something like Mr. Yuk instead.
Julian says, "It means run away, this is icky!"
This symbol is pretty terrifying to me. I just asked Julian what he thought it meant and he said right away, "Poison!"
Well actually it means "ionizing radiation", but I will accept "poison" as a correct answer. That scary image gets the point across. Run the fuck away from that shit or your ass will be vaporized.
I went back to the skull and crossbones and asked him what THAT meant.
"It's a skeleton! It means...no more!"
"Does it mean pirates too?"
"Ummm, yes. And stay out!"
Today Adrian was crawling around playing like mad. He was playing outside in the grass for a while (lots of leaves to hold and eat), crawling around on our tiled patio (basketballs to chase, basketball hoops to reach for, various random items of furniture to pull up on and smack his palm against), and then there was the always amusing spectacle of Big Brother Julian doing Big Brother stuff, and Daddy raking leaves.
Then he came inside and examined all of the pots and pans in the cupboard, examined all of the canned goods on the bottom shelf of the pantry, gnawed several boxes in the recycling bin, ate half a teething biscuit, knocked some tupperware containers around, explored the bottom shelf of the dishwasher (and attempted to climb inside), and gnawed on his big brother's wooden train tracks.
I know, pretty damn exciting! Occasionally he had to come back to Mommy Home Base and nurse a little bit, or take a little snooze on my back in the carrier. Then it was back down, getting into stuff.
Dan and Julian took Bugs out for a walk, and when they came back Dan went right into the garage to get Bugs' dinner WITHOUT (gasp!) picking Adrian up.
He immediately started crawling towards the garage, calling "DADADADADA!"
I yelled out to Dan, "He's calling you!"
Adrian called again, "DADADADA!"
Dan came inside and talked to Adrian a little bit, still without picking him up. Then he left the room again.
"DADADADADADADADA!!!!"
Mind you, he hadn't made this sound all day, at least not that I had heard.
Dan came back, played with Adrian, then put him down again.
"DADADADADA!"
So yeah, definitely a Dada thing. Julian's first actual word was "Doggie", but he said "Dada" pretty early. He didn't say "Mama" until much, much later. We would play games and I would point to everyone and he would immediately name Doggie, Daddy, Julian, etc., but me? Nothing. I got a tight-lipped refusal to be named. I was calling myself She Who Shall Be Be Nameless for a while.
I've read that this phenomenon is somewhat common, and it's theorized that it happens because it takes babies a while to recognize that they are a separate being from their mothers. So yes, they know Daddy and Doggie and all the other members of the family, but the Boobed One over there is in a different category. Part Self and part Other.
I'm glad that Adrian knows his Daddy's name. It's super cute. I'm sure he'll pick up on Doggie and Juju pretty quickly too. We are kicking in with the sign language finally, so I'm excited to have him start signing for "more" and "milk" and "eat" and "drink". But I hope it doesn't take *too* long for him to say "Mama", because that's one of the sweetest sounds around.
Adrian and I are off to Vegas this weekend for the ABC Trade Show. We're going to scope out about a zillion products for babies and kids, and maybe we can find one or two that are worthwhile.
Adrian has his own badge. He's my Assistant Buyer. Which sounds like a joke, but it's actually not. How else am I supposed to test stuff out without my Baby Product Tester along?
It's Adrian's first flight. Here's hoping he zonks out for the duration...luckily it's only a little over an hour each way, and we have a direct flight.
Dan and Julian are having a Stag Weekend in our absence. Wahoo!
I took both kids to the playground late in the day yesterday, around 5:00pm. Julian was playing in the sand with shovel and bucket, and I was holding Adrian. Adrian had on training pants. I had an extra pair of TPs in
the car, but no wipes or anything like that. We just jetted out of the house really fast and didn't bring a lot of stuff along.
I was nursing Adrian and suddenly he unlatched himself, let out a fart, and looked at me. He had already pooped that day, but hey...no need to tell me twice. He obviously had to go again.
I took him in the park bathroom, wiped off the seat, and sat on it backwards on it with him in our usual manner. He had never pooped on a public toilet before.
At first he just looked wildly all around at all the fascinating stuff. The bright, shiny plumbing pipes had to be touched and investigated of course. I didn't think he was going to go, but then he settled down and let out 4-5 waves of poop. Ugh, that would have been a HUGE mess if he had done it in his diaper or training pants. But he got it all in the toilet!
What's even better is this...after he was done he leaned forward, grabbed the handle and FLUSHED THE TOILET! Just like an old pro. He wasn't even startled at the bi
Things are so much better than they were two weeks ago. I have been keeping my cool with the kids, and the kids themselves are so much easier. 
