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.

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...

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.