Another Pic Break

The healing continues, but so does Kiddo's cuteness. At 3 feet and 28 pounds, he charges around with all the 2 yr old energy and abilities he possesses. Check out some recent highlights.

A Picture Break

Because I have been working a little too much, I ended up with tendonitis. As it is, I'm not even typing this courtesy of speak to text. Along those lines, here are some cute pictures. Hopefully next week I will feel better.

Happy Second Birthday!

I can't believe it's been two years.

Wow.

How could something so small and helpless turn into a hyperactive chatterbox?

I look through pictures and scan memories and find myself overwhelmed by how much Kiddo has changed in such a short time.

He transformed from a little human larvae into a little boy. He tells involved stories about his toys and favorite Sesame Street characters. He pretends - actively transforming his environment into childhood wonderlands where baskets are motorcycle helmets, lace cards are talking pets, motorcycles have friendly conversations in the refrigerator, and anything can become a horsie or a golf club.

Kiddo sits happily drawing for hours. But he's just as likely to run bases (sliding into home plate), or build towers, or dig in sand. He makes up songs for anything and everything, and loves watching musicians with their instruments.

Of course he throws tantrums when he can't communicate or isn't quite able to do something. But he also gives hugs and kisses, and says "please" and "thank you."

I can't believe he does so much - or how much my life has changed because of him. When I look at him, I can imagine him towering over me, talking about his plans for some exciting adventure or life-changing experience. I can feel how that will feel - the whole twenty or thirty years of parenting that went before and every stage of his experience from that moment all the way back to his first hour of life. I can do that, but I'd rather just enjoy the kisses of now, full-body giggles, excited toddler gibberish, and even the intense need for me in the middle of the night...

"Mama? Mama? Mama? I want Mama. Mama?"

That ask, born of the knowledge that separation will happen at some point. And then, we may or may not be ready. But for now, just for now, I'll savor everything about two. Good days and bad.

Happy Second Birthday Kiddo! I can't wait to see all the wonderful things in store for you and our family.

The Reward for Training Your Dragon - er, uh - Toddler

Having a toddler is a bit like having a pet dragon; they are both tremendously rewarding, but require an equal amount of effort and trouble.

Fortunately for me, reward and effort often mingle. There are few days that are only trouble, and few days that are just rewards. The result is the lows seem lower and the highs, higher.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I saw my effort and parenting philosophy realized.

"Thank you Mama - for Cheerios, and bowl, and motorcycles."
"Thank you Mama."
"Please Grandad"
"Thank you for strawberries."

I couldn't stop beaming. Every time his sweet little voice spoke those precious words my heart melted in a way I never thought possible.

I was so thankful. I was so proud.

It is rare to hear toddlers say "please," "thank you," or "your welcome" (we're still learning the last one). Actually, it is rare to hear anyone say these things. Maybe it is a result of entitlement, or selfishness, or obliviousness. Whatever the case, I believe in honoring the time and energies of those around me, so I try to thank everyone who is generous with their resources. I thank everyone who serves me or works for me in any way. If it doesn't fit the circumstance, I at least smile at the person, not because it is expected that women should smile, but because I recognize the human being before me and want them to know.

I wanted Kiddo to honor those around him in a similar way. This is something I feel strongly about, and it is why from a very young age, when Kiddo did any desired behavior, I told him "thank you for [insert behavior here]." Some people might think this was a strange thing - a child is not equal to an adult and therefore it is beneath adults to thank children (or to apologize to them etc).

This is complete bullshit and shows just how insecure a person is if they are incapable of recognizing the personhood of a child. A child has agency. They make choices. They choose to act a certain way. Once an adult recognizes this, it makes things a lot easier. Then the adult gives the child reasons to act a desired way (or in our case, say the desired thing).

Normalizing "thank you" made a difference. Thanking everyone appropriately gave a model of behavior for Kiddo. He saw his worth, how other people are valued, and the positive response.

So now, even in the middle of the night, after crying for me, when I go into his room, he immediately says, "Thank you Mama."

*SQUEE!*

Yes, Kiddo had several temper tantrums yesterday. Yes, I wanted to gauge out my ears when he was wailing. But then I heard those precious words, "Thank you Mama," and the tantrums faded into the distance like so many bad memories.

It took a while, but the effort paid off in some serious rewards.

Raising Genderless: Honoring A Toddler's Choice

Outside the box

When Kiddo was born, and even before, I swore I wouldn't pigeon-hole him. I didn't want to keep him from being himself, whoever that was. So I promised, to myself and him, that I would protect and honor his preferences.

I promised I wouldn't push my ideas and preferences onto him.

That is easier said than done, however I think I've done a reasonable job. Sometimes they creep up on me, like when he wanted the Elmo sleepers marketed for girls, covered in pink flowers. I heard myself saying, "girl sleepers" and I had to pick my jaw off the floor.

Since when was that a problem? Sleepers are just sleepers. Who would even see them? Why would that make a difference anyway?! I bought pink and purple cloth diapers for him. How was that any different?

I rationalized my non-purchase by saying they were poly. Kiddo can't wear synthetics coated in flame-retardant. They pill and make him stink from sweat. Plus, they feel awful and the chemicals negatively impact developing endocrine systems. I only let him wear cotton sleepers.

I didn't even touch them to find out what they were. I didn't get close enough because Kiddo was throwing a tantrum he wanted them so badly. I was annoyed, exasperated. I didn't want to get him any more sleepers, that's true, but something else was bothering me. The sleepers were pink.


I was reacting to the fact that he wanted something that was "for girls."

But he's just a little boy. It shouldn't matter that he has a penis or not. It shouldn't matter one way or another what he wears or likes. He should be able to explore himself and what he likes whatever shape that takes.

So I'm grateful for Target's choice to take down their artificial gender barriers. It allows that exploration for all kids. I don't feel weird looking at play food, baby dolls, and remote control cars in the same aisle.Those are all things Kiddo likes. He also likes cleaning, building, and every sport that contains a ball. I'm glad the pressure is off about what is okay for a parent to purchase their child, because frankly, I'm on the cultural border.

Kiddo really likes the color pink. And Abby Cadabby. He sleeps every night with a stuffed Grover and Abby. He likes both a lot. Yes he screams out and giggles when he sees Super Grover, but he also waves his arms like he's a fairy before the Sesame Street fairy school segment.

This may end up being his favorite toy...

Which is why I bought him the Flying Fairy School for his birthday.

It was a great deal. I found it for half the usual price and it gave him two figurines as well as few pieces of furniture along with the school itself. I know he's going to love it. And yes, the characters have wings. And wands. And are purple and pink. Which happen to be his favorite colors.

So what?

Watching Steelers pre-season

Kiddo is a stereotypical boy in many ways. He just collected another bruise today from yet another fall (growing and going TOO fast). He runs around screaming at the top of his lungs. He loves trucks, and cars, and adores
motorcycles. He loves all sports involving balls - golf, soccer, baseball, football, basketball, tennis (yes, even tennis!). But he also likes to pretend to cook and play with figures. His made-up stories often involve hugs and kisses. He loves fairies, butterflies, pink, and purple. He is empathetic, and works hard to make people feel better when they are upset or sad by giving them his toys, hugs, or trying to make them laugh. He shares (I know, but seriously - he does!) at least half the time. He likes sparkles.

And I can't blame him. I like all those things (well, I'm not crazy about watching tennis, but playing is all right. Golf bores the snot out of me, but mini golf is kind of fun.).

The point is his sex organs do not dictate what I give him. And they don't dictate who he is now or will become as an adult. If he wants to wear "girl sleepers," that's okay. That was just a label someone else gave a product that fits any child. And if my toddler loves that product (and I do too), then by the grace of our capitalist overlords, I will let him have it.

The Sleepless Night from Hell

He had a busy day, but he still had energy. In fact, Kiddo had so much energy, he decided not to nap.

So after dinner we went for a family walk. We walked all the way to the park. We played on the playground. It got cold. Christian tried to pull Kiddo off the playground. Temper tantrum ensues. After several unsuccessful attempts at removing Kiddo from the playground, Christian hauls Kiddo over his shoulder and runs down the block, crossing the street.

I followed at a slower pace. The walk was slow going. Sometimes Kiddo ran back toward the park. Other times he stopped to smell roses. Actually. Roses. Like 27 in a row.

We get home in one piece, each parent carrying Kiddo part of the way. It's early. Kiddo can play a little before bed...except...he can't. He starts bawling.

"Mama! Ma MA! UPSTAIRS!"

He runs to me, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the stairs. I let go to grab something, but no. He stamps his feet. He howls. I grab his hand and we proceed haltingly up the stairs.

Christian follows to smooth the process. I get ready for bed as Christian wrestles with Kiddo to get him into sleepers.

No. It doesn't work. He writhes. He thrashes. He howls. Kiddo is taking one of his worst tantrums yet. Somehow Christian gets his shirt off. Kiddo is a cat. He pushes the pj shirt away from his head.

"No, no, no, no, no NO!!!!" he screams.

I come to Christian's aid.

"Baby, you need your sleepers on. It's time for bed. I know you're tired -"
"Mama! MAMA! DADDY! NO NO NO! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

I perform magic and get his arms through the sleeves and his head the collar. We wrestle Kiddo as he thrashes, struggling and yelling, as we miraculously get his sleeper pants on.

I leave to get Kiddo's toothbrush.
"Ok Kiddo. You won!" I hear Christian say from the other room. It's like a switch. It's quiet.
"Kiddo, you won."
I go back in. There he is, sprawled on his stomach, cuddling his stuffed giraffe.
"Alexis, maybe we should just skip tonight -"
"No. He has a dental appointment tomorrow. He needs to brush his teeth." Normally toothbrushing is easy. Kiddo is cooperative. But of course, not this night. He immediately struggles and howls. I try to hold him down, but I can't get the brush in his mouth and hold him. Kiddo is too strong.
"Christian, a little help?" He jumps over, quickly wrapping Kiddo. I blink.
"Why are you holding my hand?" I ask. Christian chuckles.
"Oh! Sorry!" He adjusts his hold and Kiddo is secure. I brush as quickly as possible. Kiddo howls the whole time.

Once the brush is away, Christian let's go and Kiddo sits up. He's still howling. I realize all this time the window was open. I close it, hoping our neighbors don't hate us or think the demonic voice Kiddo uses was from some sort of ritualistic torture (other than common parenting).

"Mama! Mama! Daddy! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" He's reaching out for me. I turn off the light and he howls louder, even though this is how he sleeps every night.

We nurse.
He switches sides.
He switches again.
He switches again.
Finally he goes to sleep and I get a break. Christian and I chat for maybe an hour. I'm ready to sleep. Kiddo howls from his room. I sigh, get up and go over.

Kiddo is exceptionally clingy. He nurses. He switches sides. He switches again. He clings to me the entire time. I dose off. When I notice he is sound asleep, I leave. 5 minutes later, he wakes, screaming.

I go back in. We nurse. He switches sides. The cycle repeats, except this time, I stay. I figure this is the only way I will sleep. Kiddo pushes his head onto my pillow. He rolls over my hair. He smacks my face with his arm. I roll over. He smacks his skull into my jaw. I roll over. He cries.

"Nursing? Mama, I want nursing!"

We nurse. He switches sides. The cycle repeats. This time he doesn't sleep, but sits up and starts singing. He plays with his animals. He looks out the window. He talks. He sings. Finally he lays down as close as he can to me and stills.

Then Christian's alarm goes off.

I don't know why this happened the way it did. All I know is the following three nights he slept through the night (THANK GOD!). Also he outgrew his new shoes. It happens. I'm just glad it doesn't happen all the time. At least there's that small mercy.

Seven Years Later: Marriage, Love, and Commitment

Seven years. Seven. Years. Wow.

Engaged

They made a movie about this year starring Marilyn Monroe. The year is supposed to be magical in some way, some kind of transformation. But...it's not. I mean, not like the movie would have you believe. There's no itch, in fact. If anything, I feel the opposite. But maybe that's because of the journey Christian and I shared. When you go through things, it connects you. It forces you to grow together or apart. We did the former.

It wasn't just about love. Marriage is more than love. In fact, love is not enough, or at least, not immature love.

I've heard love described many ways. I think I like this best - that it transitions - growing from an immature and primal urge into infatuation. From infatuation it moves to love because. From love because, it becomes love despite.

"Despite your failures, your screw ups, I love you."

India

I've heard marriage described as a shared memory - a history you share with another person. A set of experiences that allows you to reference things no one else knows, or can.

That's why old couples have their own language - words that carry so much weight and meaning, it is impossible to understand all the layers of understanding.

I think when we first started dating Christian and I already had our own language. Now, after nine years together and seven years married, everything we say to one another has so much meaning it would be impossible for other people to understand our conversations. Our communication is no longer analog, but digital. Hell, one shared look is like a sentence. On the upside, communication is efficient. On the downside, there's room for interpretation, so it's not always effective (and can be exclusionary if we slip into it too much in public).

But that's part of what it means to have shared experience. That's part of what it means to be married.

I've also heard marriage described as an apprenticeship in your partner - a person you can never fully know, who will continue to surprise and delight you all life long.

I'm still a new student to this married thing, but I know this - it is all these things and more. Christian continues to support, annoy, inspire, frustrate, encourage, and compliment as my partner in life. He is my best friend and confidante in all things. Because of him, my life has gone in unexpected directions, and I would not be the person I am today without him. I would not have Kiddo in my life. I would not be able to laugh at myself so completely or have that ounce of reason to ground me amid a freak-out moment.

I am so grateful for my little family - for Christian and Kiddo. I absolutely love them despite. I cherish our shared experience. I look forward to many more years of apprenticeship.

Three Leaps: Water, Language, & Sleep

I feel like I always say this, but it's true: This past week was huge for Kiddo (Psst - is parenthood always like this?).

First, he finally got in the ocean and - LOVED IT! Yes! He loved wading through the water. He loved the sand. He did not want to leave. He only willingly left when we explained we would come back another time.

*Blink*

Second, his language skills exploded...again. He uses possessives like my, mine, your, and yours. He uses three word sentences basically any time he speaks, and of course, Kiddo talks all the time. He does sometimes slip back into toddler babble when he doesn't have the words, but his words are recognizable around 50% of the time. He also repeats everything we say (Swearing and adult topics are COMPLETELY no-nos now, if they weren't already.). Music such as early Prince, Bruno Mars, and pretty much all rap from the 1990s until now is off the table. We're committed to Owl City, Kelly Clarkson, Raffi, and anything associated with his beloved Babybug Magazine.

Third, and probably the most exciting for me, HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT! Yes, it was only ONE time, but still. I got to sleep for six hours straight and it was...glorious.

I forgot what that much sleep can do for a person. But I really missed it. Really. It's been over two years since I slept a full night. I think I slept an entire six hours a few times during my pregnancy. I want to say twice. So I think that is three times I've slept a solid night in the past 2.5 years.

Yeah.

Of course, my niece, a whole year younger than Kiddo, sleeps through the night and has since she was like six months old. Every kid is different. Breastfeeding v. formula impacts sleeping. Cosleeping or not also changes nighttime dynamics. It's a complicated and mysterious thing. That said, I'm pretty sure the new room and bed makes a difference for Kiddo's longer sleeping times. I hope this continues, though I know there will be a kind of forward/back process as we slowly move towards sleeping through consistently.

It was an exciting time this past week. It kind of feels like it will continue to be that way for a while (if not forever). Even though some things are less than ideal (changing personal habits like music or sleep times), I frequently find myself overwhelmed by love and joy at the mere thought of Kiddo. He does something during the day, and I'll find myself smiling and giddy at the memory. I didn't expect that, but it happens almost every day now. It's one of those things parents don't really talk about, so it sneaks up on you. And trust me when I say, it is a hidden treasure, and just as glorious as sleeping for six hours straight.

Clothing Sizes Are Crap

3T shirt & 24 MO shorts

Today my child is wearing a 3T shirt and 24 month shorts and they both fit well. This is not the first time kiddo has worn two different sizes. It is not the first time he's been in sizes that didn't reflect his age. I remember Kiddo getting a 5 piece set in 9 months. It was so small he could wear it when he wore 3 months, which was a week after birth. In fact, the only thing Kiddo wore in "newborn" was socks (he's got tiny feet). 

There were a few times when he wore something that matched his age (18 months is such a catch all size he happened to wear it when he was close, but then quickly switched to 24.). For the most part, however, Kiddo is taller and thinner than most standard clothing sizes.

3T shorts & 2T shirt (grandad's boots)

I understand that need to have different standards for clothing sizes. There are some children who are just bigger than others and they need clothing that fits that is age appropriate. That said, the difference in clothing brand is significant.

For example, Nordstrom's clothes are always too small at his age (and pretty much everything they carry in that store). He would need to wear 3 or 4T at this point. Designer brands tend to run small - so if he gets Nautica or Janie & Jack, he can wear it for a little while before it gets packed away (Incidentally, Levi's, Nike, Lucky, and Kenneth Cole seem to be true to size.) Store brands vary greatly. Osh Kosh and Old Navy/Gap is true to size, where Babies R' Us can go either way. Carter's varies greatly between the lines - some are PERFECT for Kiddo, while others have too small of collars to go over his head, or the pants are waaaay too long for his short little legs. Gymboree is big. Always. It's like it's made for Norwegians. He is just now growing out of his 18-24 month Gymboree clothes. Garanimal clothes run big, but it varies depending on the piece (especially shirts). Generally those tend to be WIIIIDE and shorter compared to say, Gymboree clothes.

18 MO shirt & 24 MO shorts

It took me a year to get a handle on all these brands, and during that time (and every time I dress Kiddo) I am reminded how clothing sizes are crap. They really have nothing to do with you. They are based on a set of standards established with a select few fit models.

It is a good reminder as I go clothing shopping for myself. Now when I shop, I get like four or five different sizes. As long as I like the piece, I'll try it on to see if it will work for my body. Because just like kids' sizes, adult sizes are all different and they have nothing to do with anything. The goal is always to find something that looks good on my body, not to purchase a certain size.

Of course it is nice as I see a general shrinking trend  (Yay size 6!) but sometimes I buy a size 8 or 9. Sometimes I buy misses or juniors or ladies. It just depends. In shirts, I wear styles that range from small to large because of cuts and drapes. And it honestly doesn't matter. I don't care what the size is, as long as it looks good.

A Dad & Partner

When I was younger I always saw myself as getting married and having kids, but I wasn't sure anyone could ever hold my attention long enough to actually commit. I mean, I fell in love easily enough. I fell hard several times. I was infatuated ten times that number. I could see the beauty in people, so it was easy for me to love them. But to live with them? To stay with them forever? To get married?

I don't think so.

I wasn't sure I would ever find someone who was interesting enough to hold my attention past two years. Honestly.

And then I met Christian.

*Blinks*

Christian is a comfort. We can wax poetical about the finer points of pop sci-fi, delve into the nuts and bolts of furniture design, or stoke each other's fury over the state of the world. He knows how to handle himself in a crisis and can navigate any social situation with relative ease.

Christian is also a challenge. He thinks about the world in the way that I dream up stories - it is dizzying, epic, and spectacular. He comes to things with the careful wisdom of an octogenarian and the emotional ride of a twenty something. He is a strange combination of caution and risk, observation and oblivion, tradition and avant garde.

Committed to parenthood, he intentionally works to grow as a father, just as he continues to do so as a spouse.

He is beautiful and wondrous. And I am so grateful for him.

Happy Birthday, to my life partner and best friend. We love you!

My Hot Mom Bod

The week before my wedding candid.

It's been a while since I talked about how I'm doing physically, so I thought I'd give you an update.

First, let me apologize for not having full body photos because, well, I personally hate selfies with the phone in the mirror. So I don't take them, which means I don't have any recent full body shots. You'll have to make do with my pre-marriage face compared to my current face (which, you will note, is remarkably similar!).

That is because I am officially wearing clothes I wore before getting married, when I was my thinnest. Yep. I'm back to a size 6, and shrinking. I bought a pair of shorts that were a size 6. I recently wore a mini dress and loved it. I feel FANTASTIC! Is my body the same shape? No! Of course not! My ribs are wider. My hips are wider. My breasts are different. Even my feet are different! Is my skin all back to where it used to be? Uh, no. I need to get rid of some serious subdermal fat to get there, BUT all in all, I feel good in my skin and my body.

I am stronger than I've ever been, even when I was working out religiously. That is because of toddler training.

Moms do not talk about this, and maybe it isn't so with everyone, but for me, running around with my toddler is more than enough of a workout. I do not need to lift weights. I lift my toddler. I do not need to do plyometrics. I jump like a frog with my toddler.

A few weeks ago - same elven features!

The list goes on, but I won't bore you with the details. The summation is - active toddlers = workouts. Period. That's all you need to know.

Oh, and one other, itsy bitsy thing - extended breastfeeding.

Honestly, I am ready to wean. There are moments when I love the added closeness it gives Kiddo and me, but I could really use a break. And breaks mean, well, the end. I'm ready for him to stop waking in the middle of the night howling for me. Seriously ready.

But I can't deny how breastfeeding has helped me get to a healthier physical state (along with the obvious toddler training). So, even though I'm annoyed with it at this point (generally), I'm grateful for it too.

The difficulty now is to figure out how to wean, execute this plan, and maintain my healthy state. I'll let you know when I figure that one out. In the mean time, let me know any tips and tricks you have for doing that below!

Making Summer Memories

The last few weeks, while including days from motherhood hell (read: 20 tantrums plus in a single day with severe sleep deprivation), also had some serious fun.

Kiddo got to see two minor league baseball games, which he loves. He loves sports and so he really enjoyed watching the players and listening to us explain what was happening on the field. Having a ton of snacks didn't hurt either.

Also, we did end up marching around the bleachers. Sometimes it was Mommy or Daddy doing this, and sometimes it was Grandad. Fortunately most of the fans found Kiddo adorable, so they smiled graciously despite his loud clomping around.

Daddy and Kiddo got some boy-bonding fun time playing soccer and ripping up leaves, as well as checking out a clock shop and wandering around little Californian towns. We also checked out a really awesome playground, and got to see the miniature horse farm.

Kiddo: I want ride!
*blink*
Mommy: I don't think we can do that.
Kiddo: I want pet!
Mommy: Well, they have signs up saying not to put your fingers in the enclosure so...

Despite the limitations of the visit, Kiddo really liked the horses. Then again, he's in love with animals of all kinds and has already expressed his desire for a dog (The rule is absolutely not at least until he can clean up dog poop.).

Kiddo also tried his first health smoothie, which despite not liking cold things, he drank a fair amount of.

To top it off, he got to hang out with his baby cousin and one of his older cousins in the same day. There were bubbles, bats, Sesame Street and Cheerios involved. It was a dream come true.

While the tantrum days aren't very fun, these other experiences more than make up the difference. I am so glad we get to do these things together. It is such a joy to make memories like these, and I look forward to many more.

Big Transitions: Potties and Rooms

Last week I started two different posts, and never finished them. I thought about another five more...and didn't write them.

BUT...now I have a few different things to write about Kiddo because this past week ended up being a major one...like a whole MASSIVE Kiddo C-change.

Namely, we got Kiddo a potty and transitioned him to his own room and bed.

*GASP*

Yes, folks, it was CRAZINESS. And while there were a number of other things that happened, I'll save that for next week. These I think, are more than enough for one blog post. Frankly...I'm going crazy now.

Potty Time

On a whim this past Friday we bought a potty. It was the cheapest multi-stage potty I've seen ($13 for a stool, potty, transition seat situation) and so I snagged it. We've been discussing potties for a while, what happens when people go, how to go etc. We've talked about underwear. We read a few library books about potties....but this was the first major step in the direction of potty training.

Honestly, I think my parents were more excited about it that I was, mostly because it will save everyone a lot of money. A few months back we switched over to sposies entirely because:

1. Kiddo no longer fit in his cloth covers.
2. The cloth diapers no longer had enough asorbancy.
3. I would have to upgrade my entire stash to make things work.
4. And you know, we kind of have the WORST DROUGHT EVER. I couldn't stomach washing his dipes daily with double rinses etc.

With sposies on all the time, while it is convenient, I feel guilty every time I put them in the garbage. Also, I hate how expensive they are, knowing what I know about cloth stashes. It's a bit of a Catch 22, lose-lose situation.

SO the POTTY is really attractive for those reasons as well. That and there is the possibility of really exciting underwear for Kiddo (which if I can get motorcycles, sports, or Sesame Street characters, it will DEFINITELY be an incentive.).

Thus far, Kiddo sits on the potty with the lid up but not with his pants down. He decorated it with stickers, but he's not interested in actually using it. He does comment about when he's going. Sometimes he even requests potty time, but we still haven't made any kind of effort at getting him to actually fill it. Still, his love of his potty is encouraging. We may yet be potty trained this summer, and that would be VERY exciting.

Big Boy Bed

The transition to Kiddo's own room and bed has been a mixed bag. The first night he took twice as long to get to sleep because he was looking around the room, at his night-light, playing with his giraffe, etc. In the middle of the night he woke up, wailed, and only went back to sleep when I went in to nurse him. About 4 hours later he woke up wailing wanting to nurse again.

Needless to say, that night I did not get very much sleep.

The second night however, went better. He fell asleep faster and there was less wailing (even though I did end up going in twice). He seems to like the idea it is his bed and his room. Kiddo got very excited when he realized his clothes were in the closet and dresser.

2nd night with his motorcycle pillow, dolly, and kitty.

So we'll continue along this path with the bed and room. Hopefully we'll get to a place where he no longer needs me in the middle of the night. I hope that is in the near future, but I'll settle for a few months down the road (Am I too optimistic?).

Other Transitions

Beyond the potty and his own room, Kiddo is clearly becoming a child. There is no trace of infant in him. He asks questions and uses full sentences. He requests things, tells stories which are increasingly understandable, and follows two part instructions.

There are parts of me that see this and mourn the loss of the baby he used to be. Still, I celebrate as he progresses, knowing as he moves through life, things like good story-telling and full sentences are not only helpful, but necessary.

Smiling to Wailing and Back Again

Ugh.

That is how I would describe the past five days.

Just...ugh.

This kid is driving me up a wall. Sometimes he cries because he's frustrated: the blocks won't stack. The stacking rings don't lock in place. Grover doesn't sit astride the Ducati Diavel.

Other times, he just...cries.

And I have no frickin' clue what the hell is going on. Really. None. It's not that he's hungry, or tired, or even teething. It's not that he hasn't gotten to play or read or whatever. Every concievable need is met, and yet... crying. Total meltdown.

Oh sure. Sometimes he willfully does things he is not supposed to do and he suffers the consequences of such actions, like not being able to play outside. But really, the crying is just...dumb. And annoying when redirecting doesn't work any more.

I've heard about this phase. I've read moms talking about it on forums and in articles on parenting sites, but really guys, being in it is a LOT worse than reading about it. And the advice...does NOT work. Yeah. Pretty sure we're in the lovely toddler wonder week thing.

They should have medication for parents specifically for this time. I mean, besides wine and ibuprofen.

I jest. I know it is temporary. I know it will end. And I know he will be graduating from college when I blink. So I'll cling to the moment of discovery and joy - the dimpled smiles, giggling, counting to 5 for the first time, stacking 8 blocks without them falling, telling understandable stories about toys and activities. I'll hold those in my mind and grit my teeth until he goes to sleep on the rough days.

Yeah.

And drink a beer.

A Geek Parent with a Jock Kid

I always said if I had a kid, it wouldn't matter what they wanted to do I would support them. If, for example, they wanted to be a ribbon dancer, I would help them to be the best damn ribbon dancer ever. And this is still true.

I just never thought I, a creative geek, would end up with a super athlete kid. Not really. I mean, I thought it would be funny....but...I didn't think it would ACTUALLY happen.

My husband jokes that he is the least athletic in his family. This is true, however when we say the least athletic, this needs perspective. This is a man who taught himself how to spear fish, who has strung marines up by a single ankle and shook them, who chopped off the heads of baby rattle snakes with a hatchet at the age of 11. He is, in my estimation, a sort of Paul Bunyon type. This is my picture of my husband.

So then, I can tell you about his sisters. His sisters, one of whom had a full ride scholarship to play soccer. Another tried out for the basketball team without never having played, and was placed on varsity as a sophomore, without EVER HAVING PLAYED.

Oh, and did I mention his dad? Kiddo's grandfather? who STILL holds track and field records at his high school? STILL!

Sigh.

So my son, my darling boy, has this in his blood. He watches an inning of baseball and starts trying to pitch. He hits balls off the tee, with a bat that is as big as he is. He dribbles soccer balls without trying. He runs EVERYWHERE. This is the kind of boy I have. An athlete. And I don't even know all the rules to these games. I don't know all the stances. But you can be sure I'm going to learn.

Kiddo will stay still to watch sports. Golf. Baseball. Basketball. Football. Soccer (actually, he doesn't sit still for soccer - he runs around kicking the ball like the players because he thinks it's super fun).

Oh, and then there are motorcycles. He LOVES motorcycles. And bicycles. Pretty much anything with wheels. He likes how they work - another inherited trait from his father's side.

However, he also loves music. And fabric. And animals. And colors. And telling stories. And walking around looking at nature. So at least we have that to bond over.

It is funny that I ended up with an athlete. The irony was too good for it NOT to happen. And that's fine. Even though I don't know much about these sports, I will support Kiddo as he pursues them. He has his uncles and aunts who played all manner of things and will enjoy sharing that with him. And I will go to the games and I will take him to camps or whatever he finds enjoyable. I am committed to that, because that is where his interest lies. That's part of what it means to be a parent.

And he is still extremely young. He could end up being really into writing too. That could happen. Or he could go in a completely different direction. Who knows? Life takes all kinds of twists and turns. However, I'm pretty sure, whatever direction it goes for Kiddo, there will be sports somewhere in the mix. He loves them too much for it not to be the case.

In the mean time, I have to figure out ways to weather all the sports related events. And the other sporty parents - you know, the ones who were into sports themselves and have nothing in common with me except the fact their kid plays on the same team as mine.

Tips would be welcome. I'm going to store them up in preparation. Until then, I'll play ball with my limited skills, hoping I've got at least a few years before Kiddo outstrips me. And then I'll start outsourcing the play time to more competent family members. In a few years. I hope...

Remembering Gifts

We were walking around the neighborhood, holding hands. Kiddo had been telling me stories in toddler gibberish, which slowly trailed off. It was quiet. No one was around. The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.

"Do you see the pretty flowers?" He looks. "And hear the wind through the leaves? How wonderful is that?!"
Then, he looks up at me, and gives me a beaming smile of such delight in that moment, my heart completely melts. Just thinking about it makes my eyes water.

Kiddo is a gift. This is the thing I have to remember always.

In some ways, my time that I've had as a stay-at-home parent has been stressful. It has been stressful to not contribute to our family coffers directly. It has been stressful to be isolated, both by being a SAHM, as well as through my writing. Neither one of these occupations screams "social." It has been stressful to try to manage those two occupations, which frequently conflict with one another.

How many times has Kiddo come to my arm, as I'm sitting at the computer, and pulled on my sleeve? How many times have I had to shrug him off because I had to get something done that day in order to feel like I was progressing?

I can't count. I don't know. It's too much. It's too many. It makes me feel a little ashamed to admit it in this public way.

Because there are warring priorities. And there is only one resource. Time. There is never enough time. There is only so much time. How is one considered wealthy? By their use of time.

I made a promise to myself. I would write - or at least, work on whatever it was that needed work that day - in the morning. And this work continues through nap time. After nap time, I try to devote my afternoon to Kiddo. Completely.

And sometimes that is hard. Sometimes it is really hard. I get bored doing toddler things (although that is growing less so) and will often catch myself flicking through something on my phone. Sometimes I get really irritated - truly stuck on a bit of formatting or marketing. Eventually I recognize it would be better for everyone if I paid exclusive attention to Kiddo, and I come around. And that is good. Everyone ends up happier.

And I love being a writer. I do. I love doing it and focusing on it completely. And I love being a mom. I do. I love doing it and focusing on Kiddo completely. Trying to do both at once however, is an abysmal failure.

So I try to separate them. This allows me to spend time doing the thing I feel called to do, the thing I must to stay sane, as well as spend time with the little boy I love, my son. It's the closest to a win-win I can get.

And times like this, make me think about how I allocate my precious resource. They make me wonder about what I am willing to give up, and what I cannot live without. They make me question what kind of memories I want to have. When I look back at my life, what story will be there? What will I have accomplished? What relationships will I have built? What kind of a person will I have been?

Part of the answer is my writing. But a bigger part of that answer is the relationship I want with Kiddo. I want to experience him fully. I'm still not sure I want a second kid, and I will only have one chance with Kiddo. He is one person - my precious little boy. The child who makes emotional and abstract connections constantly, who sings and dances, and whose smile lights up even my darkest moments, that is a person I always want with me. That is a person I want to make and share memories with, always. And every single moment - the wild energy bursts, the silly expressions, and the intense tantrums - all of that is a gift I have been given.

There are not words to express my gratitude for my time with Kiddo. Parents understand this feeling - it is unique to the parenting experience. I have never felt it to this depth as I do with Kiddo. Of course, I am grateful for all the wonderful people I've had the pleasure to meet, who have been in my life at one time or another. Of course I love my close friends, my parents, my husband. Of course. And they are each gifts.

But they are not Kiddo.

Earlier in the day, Kiddo was taking a nap. I was exhausted. I was cranky. He fell asleep in the car, and I couldn't move him because moving him wakes him. So I stayed in the car, and dozed myself. When he woke up, I carried up the stairs into a sitting area and we nursed. Of course, the couch was in the sun. Of course, he fell asleep on my lap. Of course I was extraordinarily thirsty.

I got so irritated, I set him down. I couldn't handle the heat any more. I got a glass of water. He woke up. He sat up. He said a few gibberish words.

I sat down.

Then, for some reason, I look across the room and our eyes meet. Kiddo's face cracks into a huge smile - that beaming perfect smile that reflects all his joy and love and light in a single look, and I remember.

Alien Energy: Better Than Caffeine

Kiddo is hyper. I mean, I knew he was active, but I didn't realize how much more active he was compared to other kids.

When nursing, I can get hands and feet in the face. Sometimes Kiddo gets his butt hiked into the air and wiggles so much, he collapses back down again. When he wakes up in the morning, he climbs everywhere, all over - tumbling and jumping, singing, and telling stories.

This is the kind of kid that doesn't just have a second wind, he has a third, and sometimes a fourth. In order to make sure he sleeps a full night, I have to actively run him ragged. I have to force him to walk uphill and climb playground equipment for several hours if I want to ensure a solid night of sleep. Otherwise, it's anyone's guess how much he'll sleep.

And of course, once he wakes, all cylinders will be running.

But I thought this was just how toddlers were. I didn't think he was above average in his energy levels. I mean, when he first encounters people, he is often hesitant, and reserved. I thought that meant he was average.

No. I was wrong. Completely wrong. Kiddo is WILD.

I know this because we went to the park yesterday and he chased after a strange boy and threw his ball at the boy, almost knocking the poor kid down. He ran around screaming his head off (for fun, not throwing a fit). He ran the entire time. He drummed his ball. He threw his ball. He giggled and squealed and sang. And the three other kids stared at him. They functioned at a fraction of his energy. And this was after walking around the block and playing with Grandma's dog.

And at home? He ran around again, throwing all his toys every which way. He did laps for 5 minutes straight around the second floor. He squealed. He told stories. He played with his figurines. He sang songs. We had to persuade him to get a bath with heavy references to specific bath toys. And he only agreed to bath time grudgingly.

Losing my earlier baby weight took a little effort. My continuous inches lost... is no wonder. I chase a toddler. I play with a toddler. If you had a kid as active as mine, you'd be losing weight too.

Now, if I could just bottle this or develop some kind of silver bullet system, I might have something here...

In the mean time, I'll settle for watching Kiddo fixing to be some kind of alien superhero with his magical energy reserves.

And honestly, I'm okay with this.

Mother Heartbreaker

Mothers' Day has a lot of different meanings for people. It is only my second, and even in the middle of family gatherings, I found myself reflecting on how the day has changed for me. I found myself thinking about the changes I experienced in becoming a mother.

When I was younger I never thought of myself as a mothering type. In fact I thought I was cold, reserved, and awkward around children. I was convinced I would be horrible. Actually terrible.

I learned how to be around kids by being around kids. I started tutoring elementary and junior high students. During that time, I learned a lot about children and realized that while children are at a different place in development, they are people. They are jniust people.

Yes, they have specific needs. Yes they have smaller vocabularies and may struggle to understand some abstract concepts BUT for the most part, they just need love, support, and security.

And I did not understand that once you become a mother, all the training you took in subconsciously from your own mother kicked in. I did not understand that at some point in pregnancy your brain changed in such a way that marks you. Childless women and men do not understand this transformation. It is a biological change that occurs. There is nothing else like it. And I did not know its depth.

I cannot watch children being hurt. The idea of a child going without breaks my heart. Going without food, or shelter, or clothes, or education, or parents, or love. It all hurts my heart. It constricts my chest.

And I cannot breathe when I hear of a parent losing a child. That pain is unnatural. Wrong. But I did not understand how it would be so before I became a parent. I did not understand how gut wrenching even the idea could be.

I know it bothers Christian more now that he is a father, but I wonder about the way it impacts a mother, one whose brain changes during pregnancy...who bonds through breastfeeding.

So when I look at my son, I find myself a stranger. I turned into a super lovey mom. I have to kiss his cheeks. I have to hug and cuddle him. I have to tell him I love him several times a day. I have to pick him up when he is sad and put words to his intense feelings. The sweetest sound is his laugh, or maybe him singing, or just telling a gibberish toddler story. And I know he has more power over me than any other human in this world. Because more than anyone, he can break my heart.

The Wild World of A 20 Month-old

Kiddo is 20 months old. I cannot believe we are only 4 months away from 2. It is wild to watch him every day.

Now he wakes up singing or telling stories, and about half the time they are understandable. He picks his clothes. He requests certain foods and books by name. He calls "Mom" like Stewie from Family Guy to get my attention. He throws a tantrum if he isn't allowed to help vacuum and takes great delight in helping with laundry. He follows simple instructions and often does things just for a laugh. He can eat from a bowl with a spoon and needs minimal supervision.

His three favorite things are cars (he calls motorcycles cars too), sports with balls (baseball, basketball, and football are his absolute favs), and of course music (specifically drums and stringed instruments). When asked what he wants to play, he always says guitar (though a uke is a guitar to him). Kiddo also regularly says he will play basketball and baseball.

A requested activity!

In addition to this, he LOVES Sesame Street. His favorite characters are of course, Cookie Monster and Elmo. He has a figurine of each. He has them ride animals, take baths, drink pretend soup, and give each other hugs. Sometimes he shares his Cheerios with them.

Kiddo's favorite foods at the moment are Cheerios, crackers (a rare treat), broccoli, strawberries, noodles, cheese, cauliflower, chicken tenders, plain yogurt, and brussel sprouts (although he does eat a lot more).

Can I ride?

He is always smiling, laughing, talking, and running full tilt. That said, he is painfully aware of others' moods and will pout or cry if someone, even a stranger, is upset. He also gives hugs and kisses when someone is upset, or just because.

I can't believe 2 years ago he was just a ball of cells in my womb - not even a person - and now he is an independent, curious, loving little boy. Wild.

10 Lessons in Toddler Tantrums

Kiddo amazes me.

He's gotten to that intense phase of toddlerhood where he can be an angel one second and the next is screaming bloody murder. There is very little, if any, middle ground.

As part of this, I have discovered ten lessons I thought I would share:

1. Saying "no" to him almost always gets at least a pout. It is adorable, and frequently makes everyone giggle...which often leads us to lesson 2...
2. If he gets past the pout and into whimpering, evasive action (i.e. redirect) must happen immediately. Beloved toys and rough-housing or dancing have the highest success rates.
3. If he gets past whimpering, it is over unless he can nurse. This is the last ditch effort to avoid total meltdown, which sometimes can't happen. If we're in the middle of a park, shopping area, or I am busy, Kiddo proceeds to blow my eardrums out.
4. If he calms down after the tantrum, only to be told "no" again, he will bypass pouting and whimpering, going straight to blood-curdling scream. Often this is accompanied by hand gestures, wild facial expressions, toy-throwing, and kicking or stomping. Sometimes he flings himself against a couch like a damsel in distress.
5. Redirects work most of the time, unless he is hungry, tired, hurt, or ill.
6. He is angelic in public 99% of the time, so much so, that people do not believe me when I say he has meltdowns.
7. As soon as we are away from other people, the potential for a meltdown jumps like 75 points.
8. I love my kid even when he is throwing a temper tantrum.
9. Temper tantrums make me laugh....a lot...unless I am frustrated myself.
10. I am the all-purpose soother and everything calms down much faster when I am around. Kisses, cuddles, nursing, and soothing words in his ear, all work to make things better. About 20 seconds into this, he jumps off my lap grinning ear to ear, squealing in delight.

Tantrums are not the best part of parenting, but they can definitely be managed. Through trial and error I discovered how best to manage Kiddo's swings. And now, we take them as they come. This way, everyone gets calmer faster, and my eardrums stay intact. It's almost a win-win. Almost.

Toddler The Destroyer

"He is all boy."

That's what people say about Kiddo when they see him.

"You are such a toddler."

That's what I say to Kiddo when he's getting into things.

A pool of Tylenol

Kiddo has spilled water and Tylenol all over three Roger Hargreaves books. He has ripped up one Ducati book. He has ripped out pages from his Hello Kitty coloring book. He has spilled cat food all over the floor. He has spilled his water all over...well, everything. He has dumped sand everywhere, resulting in diapers and shoes full of sand. He has dumped dirt on his head, leaving a layer of grit on his scalp.

Often when we try to get him clean up, he has a meltdown, or at the very least, fights me.

Kiddo does still like to use brooms, and enjoys helping with the laundry. Unfortunately, his sweeping makes more of a mess. Kiddo's laundry help usually means he crumples Christian's work shirt into a ball, and then puts it in a random drawer.

This is not the most enjoyable part of parenting a toddler. However, I wouldn't get the smiles, giggles, hugs, and kisses if I didn't have these parts too. I remind myself he is learning and exploring the world and that is a marvel.

Even though I sometimes yell, or need a break, I love my little boy. The awesome parts far out number the tough parts...

"I love you Mommy."

That one gets me every time.

Being A Model: Trust The Choice

Every day we make choices: what to wear, what to eat, to sleep in or not, coffee or tea, Dancing with the Stars or Daredevil...

There are some choices that are a bigger deal. The small ones certainly add up. I mean, in aggregate, the small choices are important. They point to the kind of person you actively choose to be every day. They point to the motivating forces, the principles behind actions. And other people see that.

Your life partner sees that. In fact, you probably became life partners because of those very principles, if not consciously, certainly at a subconscious level. Your partner was like, "Damn. Those are the kind of values I like!" and so you got married, or moved in, or whatever.

Your kids see those daily choices. Unlike your partner, your kids didn't get a choice for you as a parent. They got stuck with you as part of the package. So for better or worse, they look at you, every day, and see your choices. They see your reactions and your principles, lived out, second by second. And it's sinking in.

I am a systems thinker. I never look at something in isolation. I can't. It isn't possible for me. When I look at something, I see its causes and effects. I see its influences - the confluence of factors that allowed it to become. I see its wake, the pieces it leaves behind, the ripples that run through time and space.

Because of this, I take my life choices very seriously. Like, stupidly seriously. I never do something without careful consideration. Granted, that careful consideration may be the length of a few moments, or I may have been thinking about something for years and years before having the opportunity of a given choice.

My point is, I do everything with purpose. I do everything for a reason. I know every action I take and choice I make impacts the people around me. I know that. A good example of this is me taking forever to drive a car. Whenever you get behind the wheel, everyone in your vicinity, their lives, are all in your hands. That is why I never text. I never drive after drinking. I always signal and check my blind spot, because I feel responsible for every life around me. That is the kind of thing I see every second of my life - that I actively push down so I function like a normal human being.

Of course, this is a burden. It is an incredible burden. And it is frustrating when someone doesn't understand. It is frustrating when someone gives me advice because they think I have not considered the impact my choices make.

Please, for your own safety, never make that mistake. Know, I have thought about the range of impacts. I have come up with a thousand scenarios. I wrote them down. I compared pros and cons. I went through a self-assessment. I wrote several journal entries, and I talked to at least three close people, at least one of whom goes fractal when thinking.

It is possible I missed something. I am human. I make mistakes. I do miss things. This is why I need editors. But giving me advice about what to do is the opposite of helpful...

For example:
X: You should get a job at [insert random company here].
A: Well, right now I'm focusing on my book launch.
X: They're hiring. I know someone.
(Struggle not to roll eyes or laugh in face)
A: Seeing as I can't afford a babysitter, can't bring Kiddo to work, and I need to work on this book launch until at least June 15, I'm not going to apply right now.
X: Don't you think you should get a job?
(Bites tongue)
A: The current labor market relies on referrals. Companies don't want someone under qualified because they don't want to train. They don't want someone over qualified, because that person will jump ship at the earliest convenience. I have applied to jobs that I am perfect for, and not gotten an interview.
X: Maybe you should broaden your search.
(Nods and fixes smile to face)
A: Right. I'll do that.
(Walks away)

Believe me when I say I have thought carefully about how much our loans are costing our family, how me not working strains our situation. Believe me when I say I have gone through a thousand options for moves, jobs, life directions, and whole life plans. That is, as I stated above, what I do.

The tricky part is this: Trust me. I am focusing on something right now that is worth my time. I control all the factors of this book launch. I have direct control on the product I put out. I have direct control on the effort I put into marketing this book. I have direct control over the website design. I have direct control over how many people receive information about this book, my beloved THRIVE.

This book can help a lot of people. I know that. My beta readers have told me as much. I know what I'm doing. Know, I have to do this. I choose leaving a legacy. I choose trying my hardest to accomplish my life goals. I choose to show Kiddo what is possible in life. This is who I am. This is who I will always be: a purposeful writer, a voice. I can be nothing else.

The minute I start trying something else, focusing on something else, is the minute I've given up my purpose, my calling. In that moment, I have chosen a life of misery and despair. That is not the model I want Kiddo to have. Those are not the values I want for him. I am not that person.

It is a hard choice, but it is mine. Mine and no one else's. Trust my ability. Trust my vision. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I have a reason for everything I do. This is not some self-absorbed, self-indulgent act. It is much, much, much more.

Our Second Easter Marathon

We survived Kiddo's second Easter! Phew!

I am amazed. Truly. I say survived because the past weekend was JAM-PACKED! We stayed at my in-laws' house on Friday night. This in itself was a little trying because whenever his routine changes, Kiddo has a hard time with sleep etc. But the following morning, we had the Easter Egg Hunt at our church.

I thought because Kiddo is introverted he would hide in a corner with all the people around. I thought he wouldn't get any eggs - none. I thought, maybe this is a total waste.

I was wrong. Really very wrong - thankfully!

Not only did he get eggs, when we ran - Kiddo's one speed - into the nursery school where the young kids would hunt, he ran for the first egg he saw.

"Put it in the basket." So he did. Then he went for another, and another. He didn't pay attention to anything except the eggs, strewn around, perfect for picking up and placing in his wicker basket.

In the end, he had quite a collection, despite his slower pace (he was on the younger end of the little kids). He got to sample chocolate for the first time, as promised. He selected a Mr. Goodbar, and enjoyed it, before returning to cantaloupe and Cheerios.

Then Easter was just as busy. We had church, followed by a present Easter basket opening party, after which, we enjoyed a mid-day meal with friends. Kiddo got to play on a tricycle, which by the end, without a nap, became quite the challenge. By 4 PM, he was done. He reached his maximum. With little struggle, we buckled him into the carseat and he was asleep for the ride home in less than a minute.

It was a lot. Everyone slept solidly that night. And despite it being a lot, Kiddo had relatively few meltdowns, and we enjoyed ourselves. That said, I'm glad it was raining today (YES!!) because we could stay in and have a relaxed day. Everyone needs those, and we all earned it.