Ethan's Age

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Toddler Town- 3rd Edition

Every couple of months, my in-laws attempt the task of watching Ethan for a weekend.  I'm pretty sure it's like labor, where you forget about how harrowing it was... because they continue to ask to watch him.  I can't figure out any other explanation.  So, before he goes, I write a guide to the operation of a toddler, called Toddler Town.  This edition is written by my toddler himself.  He's obviously reading Honest Toddler a bit too much.


Typically my parents write this letter.  I feel that they miss the mark sometimes all the time with what is truly important to me while I stay away from home.  Hopefully, I can clear up some misconceptions.  I’ve broken it down to my basic needs.

I have a large affinity for learning about the weather.  Sometimes mom puts on the weather channel. I’ve decided my destiny is to be a meteorologist, since most of them don’t have a clue.  It’s either sky wet, or sweaty bright.  It’s not rocket science. Why can’t they get this right?  So while my mom loafs around the house doing stupid things like putting clothes in that wet clothes spinner, and crashing plates together with water, I’m thinking of more lofty goals.

Secondarily to that, I’ve taken it upon myself to take on a weather internship.  My office is in the living room at mom’s house.  My favorite phenomenon in weather is a tornado. (I call it a nanado.)  I recreate what I think wind would do, and use my toys to represent the destruction that might happen from a super cell. 

Take note of the following discoveries, soon to be out in several, if not all, peer reviewed scientific journals. 
1.  The blocks.  You can see several marks on the wall where the blocks impacted.  This shows the velocity of the nanandos in the NW. 
2.  You’ll also note the wide spread animal relocation caused by nanandos. Note the bear in the bottom right corner.  Bears live in China.  And in large stores in the mall.  (Those ones talk, which is creepy, and you have to stuff them yourself?  It’s like a horrific taxidermist.)  Obviously all monkeys are green.  My parents took me to this place where there were a bunch of animals behind baby gates and in jails like the one you have me sleep in.  They filled me full of vicious lies, saying that monkeys are all brown, and my monkey is green only because it’s fake. Since you bought the zoo pass, I can only assume you condone these lies.*
  *You can make it up to me by feeding me cake.

3.  Do not try to clean up my nanando.  This will only bring about justified anger. I plan out and re-enact several types, severity and compositions of nanandos an hour.   This is my life’s work we are talking about.  You want me to be smart and win lots of Nobel and Cracker Jack prizes?  LEAVE MY EXPERIMENTS ALONE.
4.  As is evidenced by all things I do, perspective is everything.  Mom hasn’t any perspective, and tends to make me do stupid things, like wear socks, zip up my sweater or not wear my diaper on my head.  Try not to make the same mistake.  Genius can’t be forced. Along those lines, I like to get a clear view of my destruction.  Obviously, I need to get up to your head level to see.  Don’t freak out when I climb on the counters.  I’m the expert, let me do my work.

Contrary to popular belief, I actually like sleeping.  This baby jail thing though seems cruel and unusual.  Mom says Green Monkeys are unusual, but she is full of lies.  I counter with “who puts their precious pride and joy in a netted, oversized grocery bag and expects them to sleep there?  Give me some blankets with buttons to eat, at least.”  She shakes her head and talks about playing with my poop to make sure she finds the button I stored there.  She’s gross like that.

I tend to sleep from 8:30-8:30… but will plot my escape from jail from around 7:15 pm until I drop from exhaustion, and when I finally regain consciousness until I start yelling for help in the morning. Take your time though; I’m really having quite a fine time with being alone.  It helps me gather my thoughts and strength. 

Lately I’ve also been less than thrilled for my mid-day captivity.  Sometimes I stay awake the entire time, plotting how to escape during daylight hours.  On these days my mom gives me extra time in jail at night, putting me to bed an hour early.  This is not what I intended, and is totally unfair. 

Let’s preface this with “Mama’s an idiot.”  I talk and I talk all day about the physics of atoms and the possible outcomes of the big bang theory.  She keeps telling me to go get the block with the banana on it.  First off, MAMA, who do you think I am?  Here I am, pouring out the breadth of my wisdom and you want some stupid block? Why don’t YOU find it?  Plus, NANANANAAS are for eating (no more than 3 bites though) and for visiting with.  Nana comes and visits me once a week* now that school is out.  She is not a block.  Mama needs to go back to school. 
*Side note: nana doesn’t give me cake.  You have a real opportunity to get ahead in the standings here and be the best peopleotherthanmyparents. Take this challenge seriously.)

Where was I? Talking!  So, I have plenty to say, and if you’d just listen you’d maybe even learn something.  I drop some knowledge every couple of seconds.  Pay attention.  Ask questions.  I say the word ‘car’ realllly well.  It’s because that’s the only word y’all repeat back.  I feel like that’s the only thing they understand.  It’s like talking to a cave man. ”Yes. Car.  Very good mama. “ I can only hope your conversational interludes are more stimulating.

I was in that huge store where mama buys 94857934875 toilet paper rolls and decided I was hungry.  I yelled out “CRACKER!!!!!!!!!!!!”  Mama’s face got a funny color.  She looked around a lot, and still didn’t give me food.  What gives, Papa?

Emotional Expression
There are times when talking just isn’t enough.  When mom is obviously missing the mark in understanding what I’m talking about.  As you’d imagine, it’s incredibly frustrating when someone is not hearing what I’m saying.  Often, I emote to help the tall people understand me better.  Here is a bit of a key to my emotional expressions.

1.  Emphasis (mom calls it whining) is often the way I express myself.  You can find me putting emphasis on my vocals when I can’t fit the gallon jug in my play kitchen’s microwave.  I continue to try, and am convinced it is possible.   Don’t make me give up my dreams like mom does.  She makes me sign help (did I really need to spell it out, Gaga?) and then finally helps me.  (Also, hiding the gallon jug is like hiding my dreams away.  Not nice.  But for her, I pretend I forget about it for a while then try again.  I’m persistent.  Mom calls it stubborn.)

2.  Dramatic Flair (mom calls it crying) is when I get to the tipping point of lack of understanding.  Typical circumstances for dramatic flair are when I’m asking for the 498745th cracker, wanting the other sippy cup (color matters) or when I sense you are going to put me into the baby jail all by myself in the office of doom.  Mom tries, she really does, but when she tries all the solutions and I still feel unheard, she puts me into the toddler crate.  After more dramatic flair of frustration, unconsciousness will happen. 


Like all toddlers, I’m obviously starved of the major food groups.  Cake (cakes in cups are also acceptable), Juice, Ritz Bitz and liquid smashed apples. Feel free to remedy this.  Other options that may be acceptable, but I just don’t know how I feel about until you make it and put it in front of me may be: Hotdogs, Potatoes, Chicken Nuggets, Fish Sticks, Yogurt, Pasta, Apple Sauce, Waffles (Don’t get confused with this being on my acceptable list… I could throw you a curve ball and hate it.) and anything that is not green in color.  Try your luck with one or all 600 foods in your fridge.  I enjoy a challenge.  I like to eat at all times.  My favorite meals are ones that last for hours and involve only one bite every five minutes as I run around perfecting my nanado. Officially, I only really tolerate being wheeled up to the table for breakfast and dinner. Otherwise, I can’t be bothered with your primitive restrains.

My servant at home also gives me a sippy cup of coolness, filled with melted unflavored ice-cream in the morning and at night. Feel free to skip a step and just give me ice cream.  Milk is a hoax, they are just trying to sell the defective ice cream. Don’t waste your money, go straight to the ice cream.  (Mom note: Don’t listen to Ethan here.) I recently went to the dr and they told me I’m starving to death.  (They used the adult code “He’s in the 25th percentile for weight.”)  They don’t feed me here.  I like crackers that are filled with chocolate or peanut butter.  Or cake.  Frosting from a jar will work in a pinch, since your fridge is already full of the 600 foods I might eat.  Sheet cake is large.  I will tolerate this until you purchase a third fridge exclusively for cakes and ice cream.  October is coming fast, Papa, start saving.

In the middle of the day I drink waterjuice.  Mom thinks I don’t know when she “forgets” to put juice in there. Don’t be like that.  Give me a hefty splash of juice, and we will be best friends until bedtime when I will hate you again.   Don’t take it personal. I also test my sippy cups by banging them on various objects.  You can thank me later, I’m like a home inspector, testing out the strength of your vases, glass tables and Palm Springs watches (why are you spending your money on those? You need to be saving for that cake fridge.) Keep your receipt so I can eat that too.

I walk everywhere.  I take fitness very seriously, Michelle Obama and I are working on a 10 point fitness and wellness plan for toddlers.  I tend to throw in bouts of full-out running.  In the toddler fitness world we call this interval training. Mom calls it insanity*.  But being that she eats plants and doesn’t like it when I color with crayon on the mantle, her opinion is as good as the dog’s.  Be prepared.  I don’t even know when I will be asked by the voice in my head to run.  So, be ready to think on your feet.  And by think, I mean run.

*Don’t give me the choice to walk then throw me in the metal cart with wheels in the store.  This is torture, and outlawed by the Geneva Convention (Paragraph 5635 subsection 2, Toddler Bi-Laws and Proper Treatment There-of.)  Gooooo-gle that.

Thanks again, Gaga and Papa.  I appreciate how you feed me and make me the center of attention.  Maybe you can teach mama and dada to love me.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

My Effort to CTFD

Throughout my life, I’ve had a penchant to CONTROL ALL THE THINGS!!

This focus reared it’s ugly head when my birth plan of a pretty, quiet, candlelit water-birth went all to hell, and I found myself getting a C-Section.  It was a HUGE awakening which led to me starting to embrace the unpredictability of life with children.

I joined a mom and me group and realized there was a whole new realm to wound parenting.
  • Suddenly, I was surrounded by other first-time parents who avoided disposable diapers like they would personally cause the demise of all landfill controls. (THE TREES, Julia, THINK OF THE TREES, THE TRUFULLA TREES!! Do you hate rainbows?)
  • People shunned television like it boiled your brains, while I was hooked on the latest trial airing on HLN. (It’s wrong to watch Grey’s Anatomy with your toddler?  It’s EDUCATIONAL!  Don’t go out with McSteamy!!!!!!)
  • They read no less than 39485749 parenting books, and I was uneducated because I hadn’t. (CIO CAUSES DETACHMENT AND SERIAL KILLERS!!)
  • Formula was the devil, causing cancer, 6 toes and deformed eyeballs, while I broke out my Kirkland brand bottle.  (YOU DON’T BUY DONOR BREASTMILK????)
  • I gave my son cheerios, but ZOMG IT ISN’T ORGANIC!!!! (And not PRE-CHEWED????)
  • They avoiding giving their children finger paint because the WHITE ONESIES WILL BE RUINED. (Not to mention SKIN CANCER!)
  • “My child is the only kid not sitting up yet, she will be the only kid in college in a bumbo!!!” (Direct mommy quote from group.  Thankfully, 90% in jest.)
Suddenly moms were super worried because their 1 year old wasn’t walking, or saying two word sentences… or able to finish a simple calculus problem.  They had their kids in six different enrichment classes but worried that perhaps it isn’t to early to start Latin.  I bring up these points as a sort of irony.  These were the things I rolled my eyes at when I was a “young parent.”

Then I realized that my need for C’ing the FD was less apparent, a quiet and isolating one.
  • I was nervous to take my son out (What if he misses his nap window?)
  • I was concerned that he wasn’t saying any actual words at one (SPEECH THERAPY MUST BE NEEDED?!?!)
  • I didn’t want anyone to come babysit, because my dog is kind of a jerk and likes to jump in the fountain.
  • I hated having my mother up, because I felt I had to manage her, and also my son.  (And good god, when will I have time to clean the guest bathroom?)
This lead to a life of solitude for a long while. I didn’t want to go out… I didn’t want people over…  I found that my ability to form complex sentences (read; more than 2 words long) was severely diminished. My wit, developed from a couple decades of interactions with creative and fun people… died.

One day my husband sat down and told me “Julia, I don’t feel like I can invite my friends over, because I know how anxious you get… and it makes me sad.”


That was a light bulb moment for me.  We sat down and had a very long talk about why I was so anxious in all areas of my life.  It boiled down to one thought:
“Things could go Terribly, Horribly Wrong.” 
This thought dominated so many parts of my life, and until I put a name to it, I just had no idea how much control it had over me.  Anxiety runs through my family, and I didn’t even realize I was anxious.  Anxiousness was a state of being, one that I didn’t know there was a way out of.
Relationships are messy.  Parenting is messy.

I needed to Calm the F*ck Down.

This mantra has been a turning point in my life.  My husband says that I have become a brand new person… One whom can acknowledge when things are going to be crazy, and embrace it.

I’m a mom who knows that at any point, Things Could Go Terribly, Horribly Wrong.  Chances are, nothing I do (or don’t do) will scar my toddler for life.  However, the absence of a moderately sane mom could cost me thousands in therapy bills.
In what areas do you need to “CTFD?” 
What things do you worry about going “terribly horribly wrong?”
What are some of the silly things you worried about early on?  
What are some of the silly things you worry about now?

(Originally posted on the glorious PAIL Bloggers Website)

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

New Chapters

I've been absent from the blog for a while.  And though I thoroughly enjoy the Toddler Town Updates (fear not, another is coming) I have something more serious to talk about today.  The state of the Uterus Address is back.

We've been trying since the new year for our second child.  We've kept it fairly quiet, as the pressure from family and friends of "Are you pregnant yet" took a VERY big toll on me emotionally and physically when we were trying for Ethan.  So, we've quietly been plugging along, hoping to have a second child.  My heart has been aching every 40 days as we learned yet again I wasn't expecting, and I'd have to go through yet ANOTHER round of hoping and disappointment. It seemed like everyone in my moms group was expecting again, and I just felt... so left behind. 

We put a limit of trying for one year for baby #2.  Neither of us wanted to go down the road of cascading infertility interventions, and NOBODY wants to see me on Clomid again.  My poor husband lived with an overheated girl in the middle of winter.  Snow was on the ground, and I had to keep the windows open.  But we both felt like we "should" try for another.

We kept it secret, except for a very small group of friends and family... because I didn't want to pressure of "you're drinking water... IS THERE SOMETHING YOU WANT TO TELL US?"  "Well you've had one, so the second will be easy!"  "You're SO YOUNG."  (Can we all have a collective sigh here?  *SIGH.*)  A co-worker even said "Well, you can just adopt! And plus you've had one, so the second will be easier!!"  I wanted to cry.  But instead, I smiled and said something like "Yeah, that's not how it works. But thanks."  She went off to teach her class, and I sat and cried.

When I originally read this article, we were in the midst of trying.  I related with so many of the stages of grief listed in relation to IF that it hurt.  Since then, the course of our lives has changed. 

DENIAL: 6 cycles passed with us trying. Obviously, HPT #50 is wrong, I must pee on another "non-faulty" stick!!!!  I'm sure that's just spotting from implantation, right?  Those crampy feelings must be that too.  And the sick feelings? Definitely NOT from overeating sushi.  Nope.

ANGER: The highs and lows of hopes going up and being dashed again and again started to take their toll.  As a sexual assault survivor, trying for a baby is triggering, and the idea of intervention again was also triggering... and then one day, we both just sat down, and the topic of baby #2 came up.  We waffled between trying and not trying for so long, I'm sure my friends in my mom group were sick of the "yes we are-no we aren't" game... so I loathed to change again... but something happened.
We both sat down and said simultaneously  "I don't think we should have another."  We went through all the reasons why Ethan was enough to complete our family. 

And this time it was so... easy to make the choice.

BARGAINING:  When we decided to try for baby #2, we went through many reasons in our mind as to why it was a fantastic idea.  "Ethan will have a brother!  We LOVE kids!  Won't it be cool when it's Christmas and we hear two sets of pattering feet?  Permanent playmates are awesome!  Only children are spoiled and lonelyyyyyyyy!*"   (*I was silly to buy into this one, I'm an only and neither lonely nor spoiled.)

But this time it was so... easy to make the choice.

DEPRESSION: Perhaps the guilt of it being so hard to have Ethan got me thinking that I HAD to try for another.  All that work, and stopping only at one?  You are supposed to have a brood to make up for all the medication, the trials, the ultrasounds, the surgery, the miscarriages... YOU MUST YOU MUST. YOU SHOULD YOU SHOULD.

But, it was so... easy.

ACCEPTANCE: For the past two years, I had been interested in being a Doula.  The "maybe" of #2 was keeping this dream on the back-burner.  Things just kept popping up, as if the Universe was saying "Julia, you CAN stop.  It's okay." 

- Moms in my moms group started talking about wanting me as their Doula... I could get my practicum birth requirements completed. 
-A Doula friend of mine had potential room to include me in her Doula business, giving me immediate access to clients, a friend in the business, a mentor, a partner... 
-My birthday money would be almost to the penny what I'd need to get the required workshops paid for. 
-A mom friend wanted to give me her library of birthing books. 

It went on and on. 

Nothing my husband and I have ever done has been the battle that baby #2 was. Nothing that has ever worked out for us  was this struggle and back and forth we endured.  We strongly both feel that the Universe gives us the path, and sometimes we just have to surrender to it instead of battling it. Though I spent a while mourning the loss of the baby that would never be, it was different.  More of an acknowledgement of my feelings, and excitement about the next phase in my life. 

And it was so... easy.

I can't tell you enough about the peace I now feel.  Knowing that at least for the next few years, but possibly forever, the pressure of tracking every cycle, scrutinizing every feeling I had, is over.  I look at Ethan in a new way.  In a "this is the only time I will have a child this age."  I don't believe in the Carpe Diem motto of parenting (because I don't want to carpe today's diem of him grabbing his diaper, pulling it above his head and smearing poop on his face... can you blame me?) However, I have a new focus on him.  I'm no longer planning for the baby that might not be, I've refocused on the one I have. Our family is complete, and I finally realized it.

It is a page I've turned.

And it was the best thing I've ever done.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Toddler Town Volume II

Once again my suicidal In-Laws are taking Ethan for a weekend next week.  I scripted his general care into his Toddler Times email.  You get to read it.  If you missed it, there is a Volume I HERE.

Dear Chris and Steve,
When operating a Toddler, it's great to have an informational manual guiding you along. 

First off:  His schedule is the same-ish.  But here's a "Brief" Recap.

WAKE UP: Ethan wakes at between 8-9.  He vacillates between being thrilled to be in his crib and being angry like a swarm of bees.  The tone of your day will be decided between Bees or Happiness.  Obviously, hope is for happy. Recovery is slightly possible with Breakfast. Change him and get him dressed in a gorgeous outfit. We want our son looking sharp at all times.  He has quite a few talent scouts following his progress and they need to know that he is a sophisticated and advance toddler that maintains a spotless appearance when in public.

BREAKFAST- Ethan loves to eat waffles.  He will generally eat two.  Sometimes he will humor me and eat some oatmeal first.  So, if you are in the mood to eat oatmeal yourself, feel free to offer it.  Odds are slightly higher of getting the Powerball Jackpot than him eating a lot of oatmeal... but I know I tend to purchase a ticket from time to time.  If you feel as though he hasn't had a lot (a lot = at least two waffles.) then feel free to throw some fruit at him.  Not in the Italian tomato way.  That's child abuse. And a waste of tomatoes.  He drinks milk at breakfast in his sippy cup.  I have nothing clever to say here, but assume I made some sort of cow reference and move along.  Have a water/juice sippy available for his part time job of playing. (See next section.)

PLAYTIME- He likes to play.  This is his primary job. (He loafs around while I do laundry, clean, change his pants... he's truly a drain on our resources.)   Some of his favorite activities currently include putting poker chips in coffee cans (or wipes boxes, of which I'll include in your collection of toys, or his mouth, which we tend to discourage.)  His latest feats include climbing on top of tables, sofas, and ceiling fans.) I've discouraged this very sternly, but his grinning face seems to contradict the impact I think I'm having. Feel free to advise with any strategies that may work for you.  I'm currently looking into a straight-jacket lease. He also likes walking.  So, anywhere you can walk (playgrounds, parking lots, malls, large abandoned fields, swamps) will be a win for him.  He does like going to our local playground and climbing the structures and going down slides.  Your guess is as good as mine as to what will amuse this toddler.  Self deprecating humor liking falling down and/or hitting your head will always be successful.

PRENAPTIME SNACK: Once you've worn yourself out, it will be time for his pre-nap snack. Sippy cup of water with a splash of Apple Juice. Whatever sounds good for food is fine.  (Our Mary Poppins bag of snacks include: Graham Cracker, Fruit Cups, Bananas, Goldfish, Hotdogs, cereal bars, cherrios, tatertots etc.)  He will try most anything IF you eat it first.  I'm sure this ritual dates back to the ancient times where the King had official testers for the food.  Ethan will wait to see if you die, then eat the food. He's very sophisticated like that.  I've given up all attempts to poison him (poison= any green veggie) long ago. Once he spends a half an hour or so putting off the inevitable nap, feel free to place him in his jail of horrors where he will lose consciousness. Often times, consciousness will be fleeting and it will sounds remarkably like a bunch of cats are being murdered in there.  Don't worry... this, for the most part, is normal.  Unless of course there are cats in there.  I always suspected that you two were cat hoarders, but have yet to prove it.

NAPTIME lasts NEVERENOUGHTIME.  Somewhere between 1-3 hours, usually about 4ish hours after he gets up.  It tends to be around noon/1.  He wakes up angry, typically.  (See WAKE UP for strategies and explanations.) Start countdown clock to bed time.  (NEVERCLOSEENOUGH.)  There are no jokes for this section.  Naptime is very serious.  Make yourself a lunch, and when you sit down to it, Ethan will awaken.  He's like a bear, smelling fear, food, and tired grandparents.  ...Don't let him see you cry.
POSTNAP SNACK: Same bag of tricks as the PRENAP Snack.  He's really at a 2 large meals a day routine.  So the pre/post nap snacks are just that.  His main meals are Breakfast and Dinner.

PLAYTIME: See PLAYTIME. Obviously.  His post nap playtime is when he will reveal his interest in drawers (nothing new here.)   He also will decide that he has not seen the view of your kitchen table from above.  He will seek out and exploit any way to get to the proper vantage point.  Throw pillows have been safety rated.  I will undoubtedly forget his bubble wrap suit and helmet, I can't always be a perfect mom.  Consider it a test.  Return my son in one piece, or at least with casts on. 

DINNER- Usually around 5/5:30.  He eats anything really.  He likes meat, noodles, chicken nuggets, fish sticks, potato, carrots, hot dogs, fruit, yogurt, apple sauce.  He also has his last milk sippy cup. 

PLAYTIME- Really?  Do I have I have to spell it out? He likes to read books at this time too.

YO GABBA GABBA- at 6:30.  He will dance.  Watch out.  He flails. (Give him an option of more water/juice or martinis.)

BATH/BED- 7 PM.  Drink wine.  Not with Ethan.  After he goes to bed.  (Or give it to Ethan, whatever. He will sleep like a dream.)  He will want his rain CD playing and the monitor on the computer on.  He's very demanding.  I blame Jon.

Rinse and Repeat. Survival rate decreases daily from Typhoid Fever to the equivalent of Ebola.

Other Notes:

Swimming: Feel free to take him!  I've packed his swim diaper.  He just needs that under his swim trunks, and he's good to go.  I'd recommend having him wear one of his water shirts (kinda nylon-y) as you can keep a better grasp on him.  Since the pool isn't heated (Or is it?) he may get cold quickly.  Please remember that the swim diaper CAN be washed, but can't be put in the dryer.  (It will melt, like his hopes and dreams of being able to swim again.)

Tantrums:  Yup.  He has them.  These usually occur when he's frustrated, or can't put off nap any longer. I tend to ignore him, or remind him to "ask" for help.  I also video record them.  I plan to use these in my future child-neglect trial, and/or play them for his prom date later on.  At a minimum, I laugh at his tantrums, as he is the most pathetic kid EVER. I will be awaiting your "Mom of the Year" award.  Make it out to Cash.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Welcome to Toddler Town, Population... you!

My lovely in-laws, for reasons still a mystery to me, offer to take Ethan for a weekend every couple of months.  This is SO glorious to me, as it really is the only time I feel really "off duty."  (Side note: Jon doesn't feel the same, he mopes about all weekend "bored.")

Every time these totally nutso people sign up for yet ANOTHER weekend, I write up a little informational email, similar to the State of the Union Address... to tell them what they are committing to.  I also tend to email them close enough to the weekend that they can't read the email and back out in horror.

I thought I'd let you all see what I wrote this month.

Chris and Steve,
Hey guys!  Just a quick email to refresh your thoughts about Ethan's routine.
He is about the same as last time, but with more food pickiness and attitude.  And awesomeness.  AND TODDLERNESSSSSS!

General routine:
Wakes around 9-10
Nap 3/3.5 hours after waking
Dinner around 530.
Yo Gabba Gabba
Bed around 7:30

Ethan is a riddle.  He sometimes loves to eat certain foods, then hates them.  So, your guess is as good as mine.
Our go-to's are:
-Breakfast: (Milk in a sippy cup) waffles, fruit, he SOMETIMES will eat oatmeal, but you have to lead with that.  He'll eat like 5 bites then be done. He usually will eat 1-2 waffles though... so that's something at least.

-Snacks: (Juice/Water mix in a sippy cup) yogurt, crackers, goldfish, bread with jam, fruit, applesauce, hot dog, nutragrain bars, insert anything here.  Again, he's random.  HE LOVES GRAHAM CRACKERS.  This is always a win.

-Dinner: (Milk in a sippy cup) Chicken nuggets, meatballs, fruit, yogurt, fish sticks, etc. If it's green, he won't eat it.
Period. He will look at you in total and utter shock that you even suggested the idea.
- Bottle of left over milk/or juice with Yo Gabba Gabba.

He signs "all-done" with reckless abandon, and 9 times out of 10 he doesn't mean it.  Reasons he might be signing all done on a pie chart:
- He's all done:  10 %
- He's all done with that food: 20 %
- His mouth is full: 30 %
- He's finished for 5 seconds while you put away the food and get another, but he really wanted that original food and is on the verge of freaking out because it's now put away and you are offering a lesser food in exchange: 30%

Try not to worry if he's gotten enough food.  There have been days where I thought he was going to try out for survivor and was just practicing for the lack of food.  He tends to average out.  I offer him stuff until I get annoyed, or until I run out of options.  (Or tupperware. OR SANITY.)

Lately his most enjoyable activities include
-putting objects where he can't get them, make you get it, then put them back to where he can't get them.  This is really REALLY fun.
- Walks outside.  Throw him in a jacket and go for a walk, he will be happy as a clam. 
- playgrounds!  (He loves the slides.)  But this is a high impact, gotta be with him sort of thing.
- Generally playing with his toys.
- beach balls.
- smashing his fingers in drawers.  This is a leisure activity for him, best enjoyed while you are making food or equally focused on a task that needs your attention. 
- The sign "Help."  This is no joke.  He does it ALLLLL day long.  I am working on him showing me "Show me what you need help with" and not assuming I know (though most of the time I do.)  
- Hitting stuff with objects.  You don't have a dog, so the biggest fear you might have is him hitting you with stuff.  He doesn't tend to do that much. 
- His stomach.  He will walk around a lot, with his shirt up, patting his tummy.  I'm leaning towards "it's interesting" but it could be a sign of future eating disorders.  I'll keep an eye on it and report back.
-Eyeballs. He does have a fascination with eyeballs right now.  He is ninja-like in his speed and stealth when it comes to poking your eyeball.  Be aware.  Thankfully we have two, right?

He's in actual shoes now!  I'll pack a pair.  These are the right size, but a bit harder to put on.  I'm contemplating removing a few of his toes to ease the putting on of said shoes.

He also tends to be wet in the morning after getting up (because he drinks milk and a bottle near the end of the day.)... this isn't a problem with our bed situation, as I just change the sheets... but it would be with the pack and play.  I'd advise a good wipe down of the pad, and then sticking it outside to dry and air out in the sun.  If the sun is not answering your call for an appointment, I guess just airing it out under a covered area would work as a back up idea. 

Hope that helps!  Thanks again.  I'll be hiding in Tahiti when the weekend is over..., I'll pack some extra diapers so you can get your affairs in order so you can take care of him full time.


PS.  This letter is going on the blog.  It was one of my favorites to you guys thus far.  Hope you don't mind.  I will omit your address so other people don't drop their kids off with you too.  You're welcome.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Where the hell is the "Quilt" button?

Over the past few years, I've talked a good talk about how much I'd like to have a sewing machine. 

"All the things I could do!!"  I'd say, with my finger clicking all over Pinterest. 

My mother has a sewing machine I've asked about a few times, wondering if she still used it.  She replied that she does... though the crafting apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

I recently obtained a machine from a free site... and I looked at it, envisioning what I could do with it.  (Still, to this day, I don't even know if it worked.)

My mother came by last week for lunch and to hang out with the little guy.  She popped open the trunk of her car, and what did I see but a brand new, in-box sewing machine. 

I've been looking at it, a bit intimidated.  I'm not Julia-Homemaker.  I can't cook (though I can follow a recipe), I don't scrapbook... or whatever else you need a Cricut for...  I don't know where to begin with this thing.

HELP ME. Where do I start here?

(***I've still not found the "make a shirt" button.  They need to label this thing better.)

Thursday, March 21, 2013

CPR/1st Aid

A picture is usually worth a thousand words.  This picture is worth 6.

Get CPR & First Aid Trained.

This face is the face my son made after he choked today.  

We've all had the minor coughing on food issues... it's typical for us a couple times a day. (Especially when he's SUPER hungry.)  Ethan loves to emulate his idol, the cookie monster and shovel every bit of food out on the tray into his mouth.

Today, my son was eating some lunch, a piece of chicken which I had cut into small pieces.  He's never had issues with this food before.  I always sit next to him while he eats, and just give him a couple pieces at a time. 

Today, I was sitting with him, and he started to choke.  Choking is a silent thing.  The signs being leaning forward, maybe kicking, a quickly reddening face.  But the biggest sign is the look of terror on his face, which was immediately mirrored on mine.  Typically, I can lean him forward over his tray and pat his back and he's ok.  

After doing that he still was not making any sounds (which is the indicator of a child not getting any air.)  I threw off his tray onto the floor and put him stomach down, head towards the floor on my leg and did several back blows.  These did not work either.  

So I stood him up on his feet and did the full out Heimlich manuever on his tiny little body.  Thankfully, the chicken dislodged and he began to breathe. 

Working with children, I've done this a couple of times, but not on my own child.  After a mom in my mom's group had a scary seizure incident with her son (leading to them having to do CPR) I printed off a CPR and Choking infographic which is posted on each floor.  Though I didn't need it for this incident (muscle memory just kicked in) I was thankful to have it. My previous CPR/1st Aid classes (which I've taken probably a dozen times) were in my mind.  

I am thankful that I've learned over the years to recognize the signs of actual choking, and practiced those skills.. as well as the fact that I never leave the area when Ethan is eating. 

Please, if you've not taken a lifesaving course, look into what classes are offered through your local hospital or Red Cross.  At the very least, please print off pictures on how to do CPR/Heimlich in the case of an emergency and make sure all caregivers know where that information is. You may have taken a class before, but it's a huge comfort to know that the information is there in case I panic or there is another caregiver in the home that day. 

Before you get off the computer, 
print off the information.  

Here are some quick links to pictures and information!
Heimlich Manuever Infographic - Child
Heimlich Infographic- Infant
CPR Infographic

I was able to save my son's life today.  This is a sentence I never hoped to have to write, but it's better than the alternative.  I had the information to save him.  Now, you do too.