Parenting 01

Most parents will tell you that if the child is being too quiet, you have a problem.

With me, if my child is standing right next to me, chatting away but I am not fully engaged, I have a problem.

Little Man decided to keep me company this evening while I cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. He had been coloring away with his crayons but apparently grew bored and decided mama needed some company. So while I am scrubbing down the sink and counter tops he babbles on. I give the obligatory "Yeah? How exciting." at the appropriate pauses but other than that, I am not paying attention to what he is actually doing. Nor am I paying attention to the strange sound hovering around the edges of his chatter.

My subconscious finally screams through to my conscious and I actually look at what he is doing. My once white dishwasher is now decorated with orange crayon. I can't get too upset with the child.

1. His mother cannot stand white spaces. I see white and the urge to pull out my paints and brushes becomes almost unbearable.

2. Are you ready for this? Forget Parenting 101. I need Parenting 01. I never actually told this child the crayons were only to be used on paper and specific paper at that.

So I spend the next 10 minutes trying very hard to convince my son that he is not in trouble and he didn't truly do anything wrong. It seriously is not his fault but if he would please contain his coloring to paper that mommy or daddy gives him.

Thank the Goddess for washable appliances and washable crayons and then thank her some more for gently teaching me a very obvious lesson in parenting. She could have provided the kid with a florescent pink Sharpie...

Why?

Why is it that when your child learns a new phrase such as "sit down", it is always said in a demanding tone? And why is it that we are so excited over the phrase, we don't hear the tone and end up telling the child they did a good job?

And why is it that when your son learns to truly jump, the rain stops and all puddles immediately dry up?

Excuse me while I pull out the hose for some mom-made puddles before I pick him up from daycare...

Pastel Confetti

Upon arriving home today, Little Man promptly went to for a cereal bar. I was able to sidestep the pending meltdown when I wouldn't allow him to eat the whole box (literally) by convincing him a slice of bread was the yummiest thing in the world. Meltdown #2 was avoided by asking him if he wanted to play outside.

He promptly picks up his little bag of sidewalk chalk, loops it over his arm like a purse and throws himself at the front door. The sidewalk in front of our house is now a flurry of pastel blue, pink, green, yellow, and salmon. We are running out of room. If it doesn't rain tonight (almost 10:30 and still no sign of the promised storm), our neighbors are going to have a mural in front of their house as well.

His little friend across the street told him the other day that you had to lie down to draw with the chalk so his clothes are also a flurry of pastel confetti. As are mine. Apparently everyone needs to lie down to draw with sidewalk chalk and who am I to argue?

Mother's Curse

Little Man has entered the picky eater stage. Yogurt for breakfast, lunch, and dinner one day. Cereal bars the next. Back to yogurt. Today we had a break through, he decided to eat two slices of bread just to mix it up a bit.

Its a little distressing. The rationale part of my brain tells me he is fine. Unfortunately the rationale part of my brain shrank to less than a millimeter in diameter during pregnancy and has been stuck there every since.

So I did what any irrationally driven women would do. I called my mom.

Her response: "Hmm, I had a child that would only eat hot dogs. Then only hamburgers. Then only grilled cheese. Then only BLTs."

Me: "Ok. Ok. I get it. Little Man is your payback but how do I fix this?"

I think she is still laughing...

9/11

8 years ago today, this country suffered its worst tragedy in current history. The days that followed are blurry for me. I remember the National Guardsmen and women on street corners with DC Metro Police and Capitol Police. I remember the humvee parked on the street corner outside the office with a missile launcher attached to the roof. I remember thinking I had fallen asleep and woke in Israel.

I remember sitting outside my girlfriend's house (I worked in VA but lived on Capitol Hill. I couldn't get home). I sat with neighbors' children, keeping them calm as we waited for word on parents who worked at the Pentagon. I remember breathing a small sigh of relief as my friend's husband and his friends (all commercial pilots) called in.

But one didn't call and because phone lines were swamped that day, we didn't get word of him until 24 hours later. He was scheduled to be the pilot on Flight 77. At the last minute, a pilot with more seniority requested that flight. He had to be in LA for something that day. Chris didn't argue with him. He gave up the flight and took on guilt I am not sure has left.

It took 48 hours to be able to track down friends from the Pentagon and I am lucky to be able to say, I didn't lose anyone on that horrible day.

But as we reflect today, I would like to bring to the forefront something that has gone the wayside, something that was not highly reported about 9/11.

Flight 77 passengers included DC elementary school children who had one a National Geographic contest. So while many mourn mothers, brothers, grandparents, siblings, and friends, please remember that for a group of parents in the DC area, they are mourning the loss of a child.

A friend without kids is a friend indeed...

It is no secret that the back seat of the short bus is reserved for me when it comes to deciphering my son's speech.

Today at the beach with a friend:

Me: Do you want to ride in your stroller or walk?

Little Man (according to my ears): ciaerfuruwiaedkcdanfiawehdcnj umph

My friend: He said I wanna walk.

Me: He did?

My friend (with an odd look on her face): Um, yeah - it was clear as day to me.

And she is the one without kids...

Future MLBer?

A friend came over to watch some college ball today. Little Man brought him the ball so we expected a came of catch to ensue. Mind you Little Man and I had been playing earlier. The kid really needs to learn that catching the ball with your face is not recommended. As Pete went to toss him the ball, Little Man assumed a batter's stance and batted the ball with his arm.

Forget which team he is going to root for. The husband and I are now fighting over which team he'll play for.

Door Knobs

The joys of home ownership. Regardless how thorough inspection is conducted prior to the sale, you always find things after.

So today we finally had the pantry door replaced. The previous owners installed new wall-to-wall carpeting throughout the house; very nice, very thick, very expensive carpeting; however, they did not bring it into any of the closets with the exception of the walk in closet in the master bedroom. The new rug sits considerably higher than the old carpet which is still in all of the closets. All of the closets are bi fold doors on tracks. The tracks are on the old rug. Did I mention the new rug sits considerably higher? You get the picture right?

Soo, the old pantry door ended up completely off the both tracks. We gave up fixing it and managed a prop job that would keep it from tumbling on Little Man. I finally hit my breaking point a few weeks back and not so nicely told my husband he was taking his butt out and buying new doors.

A few screw ups and delays but FINALLY I have a new pantry door that opens and closes properly. (Yes, I stood there for a good 10 minutes doing just that marveling at how easy it would be for me to now access all the crap stored in there. Then I promptly reorganized it to figure out how much of really was crap - surprisingly, not much).

We also had a door installed to the laundry room. Something about exposed insulation and young children.... I'd rather have a door I can close than continue to deal with that stupid gate.

Installer: "Hey, do you guys have a door knob for this door?".

Oops....

On Strike

There comes a time for every parent when they question their abilities to raise a happy, healthy, non-psychopathic child. I'm not worried about the physchopathic part. Yet. But I am at the point (yet again) when I question my decisions. I tell myself it is a phase. He'll grow out of it but honestly, neither my brain nor my heart are listening any more.

I can handle the meltdowns. The banshee screams. The "noooooo" to every question I put forth trying to figure out what he wants. He's tired. He isn't always sure what he wants and he doesn't have a decent vocabulary yet. I understand how frustrating that can be for him. So I take a deep breath; keep my voice calm and I go through every item in the house until he finds something that will make him happy.

What I am having trouble with is the horrible eating and sleeping habits he has developed.

My son used to eat whatever you put in front of him. Now he eats in cycles. It was grapes, cheese, and rice pilaf. It is now yogurt and hot dogs or chicken nuggets. I do a happy dance when I can get a cereal bar in him. Veggies? Bah. Who needs 'em? Actual fruit, and not the supposed real stuff they throw in the yogurt and cereal bars? For losers.
I make dinner in front of him whenever possible and I make sure he sees me take food off our plates, cut it up and put it in his bowl so he knows he is eating the same thing we are. Nope. Not happening. Tonight he sat across from me at the table, screaming his heart out. When I wouldn't give him, he held the bowl out to me with the most plaintive wail. Still no response from me so he turned to daddy.

So he was scooped up into my lap and consoled while Daddy finished the mac n cheese. By that time the only thing to calm him was a trip outside. Calm and happy we brought him back in and tried again. He would eat bread and nothing else.

And his sleep habits? Well this kid still goes upstairs at bedtime with minimal issues. He falls asleep relatively quickly and no fuss.

Until 2 AM. The first night, I stumbled into his room still asleep; plopped the paci back in his mouth; gave him a half-assed pat on the back and stumbled back to my room.

Oh Hell no Mama. Get your ass back here! No half-assed pats for me and just for that - now you have to pick me up.

Which I did. Still mostly asleep and because my brain was not turned on yet, I also promptly brought him back into bed with me. Every other time I've done this, he's decided it is Romper Room time. He surprised me this time by immediately curling up and going back to sleep. It was wonderful.

I can't tell you how many nights ago that was. They are all blurring together. Every night - 2 AM he cries. I get him and bring him back to bed. Last night he moved it up to midnight. Tonight - he didn't even go to sleep before the fussing started. He is asleep in his crib now but I am not holding my breath. In 3 hours my sleep deprived mind will wish this kid was in a bed and not a crib. A bed he could climb out of on his own and make his way unassisted to our bed.

So now I am left wondering if I made a mistake with that as well. How long will this last? Until the tooth (or teeth) we think he is working on finally decide to pop through or when I am unpacking his bags in his dorm room? Oh crap - he's gonna wanna live at home for college isn't he?

Is it too late to call a strike?

Saying Hi Little Man Style

Outside this evening after dinner hanging with our neighbors and their sons. The youngest is only a few months old. While he and I hung out, Little Man would throw me The Look over his shoulder every now and then. To help alleviate some jealousy brewing under the surface I asked Little Man if he would like to come say hi. His eyes lit up and he ran over to me.

And held his hand out to the babe like you would to a dog for him to sniff.