One, Two, Buckle My Shoe

One of the parents at daycare is pregnant with her second child. And since Alex is one of few only children there, it immediately prompts every teacher to ask me when we are having another one. That is when I burst out laughing while remembering that it has taken prescription medicine to get me to be capable of dealing with one. What the hell would happen if I had another one of these running around? Of course, simply being happy with that decision wouldn't be very obsessive of me, now would it? So all morning I have been thinking about why it is such a big deal to have an only child and whether or not we making the right decision for our family.

Aside from social norms, I honestly do not see having only one child as a bad thing. A lot of people (read: 99.9% of my friends & acquaintances) seem to think that only children grow up to be maladjusted adults. Dude. A ton of multiple children families produce maladjusted adults. I believe that no matter how many kids are in a family, if those kids have good parents, they are gonna be decent adults. It's the making sure I am a good parent part that scares the shit out of me. Now that is obviously not a fool proof ideal since as previously stated, some families produce some great and some not so great kids from the same parents. But just let me hang on to it.

Yes, there are unique challenges to raising an only child to not be a total jerkstore, but there are a zillion unique challenges to raising any human...no matter how many you have. Then what about sibling companionship? I will tell you, I love my sisters. We definitely have a special relationship that cannot be duplicated. But there are a lot people that don't have that kind of relationship with their siblings. How many times do you hear, "yeah...but he's my brother so..." So what? So you have to love and tolerate someone because you share the same genes? Just because I decide to pop out another beast child, it doesn't mean Alex and Second Beast Child are for sure going to automatically and forever love each other to bits and pieces. I will admit that I do know way more people that do in fact love their siblings, but I think this is a valid point.

So where does that leave me? Is this a financial decision? Not gonna lie, that's a big part of it. Is it a selfish decision? In keeping with the truth, I have no desire to be pregnant again. So I guess that part of it is selfish. But I didn't have a single shred of desire to be pregnant the first time and clearly I was willing to take one for the team there.

I guess all I can go on is how we are doing now. Not how other people think we should be doing. But how things are working for our family. We don't feel like our family is lacking. We don't feel like we are missing out on something. I suppose if those things change we will adjust accordingly. But we all know how I feel about change.

I don't know what is going on, but my computer won't let me enter paragraph breaks in my posts...and that is the explanation for the giant paragraph today.

Goes around, comes around

We bought a tricycle for Alex this past weekend. It's super nice because it has a detachable handle for an adult to push/steer the tricycle until the kid gets a better idea of how pedaling and maneuvering work. It coasts when you are pushing it forward so he can have his feet on the pedals while we are going without them spinning around and potentially crushing his feet. And thank goodness for the adult steering part. If it weren't for that, Alex would never be on the sidewalk. He is a very aggressive turner. We'll work on that. While we were out on the tricycle's maiden voyage, the fact that I am a parent smacked me square in the face once again. As I said, this cute little trike has the lovely feature of coasting pedals. Alex found a different place for his feet. Dragging on the ground as we went along...toes of his little Chuck's scraping against the sidewalk. And that's when the parent in me came out. I heard his feet dragging and immediately "Alex! Pick up your feet! You're going to ruin your shoes!" came flying out of my mouth. Everyday, my mom and dad's seemingly ridiculous requests throughout childhood make more and more sense. I get it Mom & Dad. I will pick up my feet.

Thank you..but zip it.

Why is it that people think that anyone wants unsolicited advice? Especially about something so personal as child rearing. Now don't me wrong, I seek out advice any chance I can get. I have no idea what I am doing on an hourly basis and pretty much just spend my days hoping I am not screwing this kid up too much. But the key in that idea is that I ask for the advice. When I want it, and from whom I want it. I guess I understand that people mean well, but that doesn't stop my skin from crawling.

When Travis and I are each taking turns switching between scarfing down fish fry and chasing our toddler around a restaurant in a sad attempt to not deal with a meltdown, it is not the time for a regular at that bar to tell me that when he had his first child, his mother always said that it is never too early to start reprimanding. Oh really? Ok. I will be sure to think about that after I decide this is the battle I want to fight...in the middle of a bar/restaurant...that is completely full...full of people that do not want to hear a 21 month human throw an amazing tantrum.

And oh really? Your kid doesn't use a pacifier anymore? Well, that is fantastic for you. But don't you dare ask my kid "what he is doing with that thing in his mouth." You wanna know what he is doing with that thing in his mouth? He is being a kid that isn't quite ready to not have a pacifier. And a kid with parents that are not ready to take it away from him. Shut it.

K, I think I am done being irritated with people's good intentions. Maybe.

Aaaand I rule

Totally didn't realize today is March 25th. Never dawned on me the last three days when coming to and leaving from day care and reading the signS reminding me that March 25th is pajama day. Didn't even sink in yesterday when I was writing checks for work and dating them 3/24, that yesterday being the 24th would make today the 25th which would make it pajama day. Wanna guess how many kids were wearing their pajamas today? Yep. All of 'em. Except my kid.

But I did finally remember to bring a back up pair of pants in case of a diaper blow-out...so I get some points for that, right?

Guck.

Any time Alex cannot move or open something he makes this "eeeeee" noise to indicate he is expending an excruciating amount of energy and then declares it "guck." Unless it can be moved by the strength of a toddler, it is stuck for all eternity. Or until Travis or I or any other stronger person will move or open whatever it is that is "guck."

This morning on the way to day care he dropped his nuk while cramming Tootie Frooties into his face. I answered his uh-oh by telling him I would get it for him when we got to day care. He started reaching for it, but obviously couldn't reach the floor due to the fact he was strapped in like a fighter pilot. And then I hear it. Eeeeeeeeeeeee! Guck. I turn to tell him I will get it for him in a minute and see him arching his back as hard as he can trying to bust out of his car seat straps and then more loudly, EEEEEEEEEE!!! Guck! Which was accompanied not only with the back arching but also with the most pathetic little why-aren't-you-helping-me-get-out-of-this-contraption face.

All I could do was giggle and remind him that I know he is stuck. I do that on purpose.

Hands to yourself

Daycare is continuing to try to make my life difficult. They are still trying to teach this kid to not poop in pants. AND they have taught him how to use scissors! Don't they understand I just want a cute, underdeveloped kid that doesn't have to stop on trips to use the bathroom?

They have all the kids in his room sit on the toilet every day. Doesn't matter if they go or not, they are just getting them used to and acquainted with the whole bathroom scene. Apparently they have all the kids do this at the same time. Well, not exactly the same time since there is only one little kid toilet, but you know what I mean. So they are all in the bathroom at once. Parts are gonna get seen.

Alex and Ryne are showing interest in parts more quickly than others from what I've been told. Yesterday, Ryne tried to grab ahold of Alex's penis after he got off the toilet. And then Alex stared at her hoo-ha, pointed and said, "Pretty!" At this rate, these two will be teaching the rest of the kids sex ed by the end of the summer.

I ooze compassion

I am the ultimate definition of compassion. Alex has been oddly whimpery the last five days or so. Not all the time, but way more often than normal. I am assuming it has something to do with the all body encompassing rash he is dealing with, but it is getting to be a bit much. Yesterday was no exception.

Travis and I spent the morning getting things done around the house. Alex spent the morning bouncing between happy and whining. So packing him up in the car for a nap on the trip to Grandma and Grandpa Z's was a welcomed event. He was asleep within 4 minutes and slept the whole way there. Upon arrival he was groggy, but pleasant. He played for a bit and then the whimpering started again. And being the loving mother I am, I told him multiple times that I didn't want to hear it and he needed to stop being so whimpery. After about five minutes or so of this, he came up to me, whined a whole bunch and wiped his hand on my jeans. I looked down and saw a stain on my pants. So, as I am picking him up I say, "Thanks. Now I not only have a whiny baby, I have a stain on my pants. What is on your hand anyway?"

Blood. Blood was on his hand because he was bleeding because he cut himself on some decorative grass/reed things my mom has in a big vase that he isn't supposed to be playing with. You wanna feel about 1/4" tall? Tell your bleeding not quite two year old, that wouldn't be bleeding if you had been paying better attention to him, to stop whining all the time because Mommy doesn't want to hear it. Impressive.

Always growing

I think I am officially an adult today... I am currently cooking my first ever slow cooker/crock pot dinner. Nevermind the fact that I have a house and a dog and a husband and a kid and a job and taxes and a car and oh! that I am 33 years old.

Crock pot dinner=adulthood.

Rash, rash go away

The boy still has his rash and it was really itching him yesterday, so over the river and through the woods, back to the doctor's office we went. For the third time in the span of a week. I kinda felt like I was overreacting, going to the doctor three times for a rash and all, but it was not really getting any better. And this poor kid is scratching so much he looks like he got in a fight with an alley cat. And lost.

Oh yeah, the other really fun thing about going to the doctor 3 times in a week, is that Alex has now decided he loathes going to the doctor. He is fine in the waiting area, but once that nurse comes out and calls us, he starts crying. As we walk down the hall to the exam room, he starts scream/crying and reaching out to anything that he can hang on to in an attempt to thwart me and my efforts to get him into the damn room. I literally had to pry his fingers from the door frame. Then I have to go over everything with the nurse while standing against the door as he is now tall enough to open the door, a skill I am sure he finds quite handy in his pursuit of freedom. All the while, he is still scream/crying so I have to raise my voice almost to the point of yelling so the nurse can hear me. Until the sweet bliss of him realizing he can explore all the weird stuff in the room takes over. Like this table that is up high and he can hide under it! Or this roll of paper under the tablet that seems endless! Or this hangy thing he is sure he is not supposed to touch! Whatever kid. Go ahead, touch away...as long as the scream/crying stops. He has oddly decided he is fine with the doctor now though. He used to hate him...Now he just eyes him suspiciously during the exam. But he doesn't cry or try to bust out of the room so I am a-ok with the suspicion.

Anywho, the doctor comes in and says, I swear to you this is what he said, "Well, he's got a rash." I did everything I could to mask my "Gee...ya THINK?!" face, but I failed. My failure to hide my reaction spurred the doctor to explain that he has a specific rash, Gionatti Crosti. It's not contagious, it just needs to run its course and all we can do is keep Alex as comfortable as possible. So with a prescription for heavy-duty hydrocortizone in hand, we headed home.

Kari and Trevor were nice enough to come over and entertain Alex for a bit so I could get caught up on the work I missed during our medical trek. And that little play date ended with Alex and Trevor chasing each other into different rooms, "scaring" each other, and screaming as loudly as humanly possible. Oh, and there are crayons e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e.

Earballs

Alex has mastered ignoring me. I know he can hear me. I can see it in his body language that he can hear me, even when his back is to me. But still, no response. Which I am not ok with. So I spend a lot of time getting down to eye level with him, getting in his line of sight and making him acknowledge and answer me. At some point he will give in and just answer me the first time, right? Yeeeeahhhh...

A couple of weeks ago, we were looking through this book he has that is the shape of a bus (it has wheels and everything!). Each page has a picture of a different type of vehicle. Have you ever realized how many different types of trucks there are? Pick-up trucks, tow trucks, garbage trucks, semi trucks. Have you ever tried to come up with something other than "Vrooom!" to imitate each truck? Impossible. Except the semi! While we were looking at the different vehicles, a light bulb exploded over my head...the semi isn't just any truck, it's a Big Rig. And it doesn't have just any horn, it has a HONK! HONK! that can only be accurately imitated while making the appropriate pulling-on-the-thing-that-makes-the-horn-honk arm motion. So that is what I have been doing every single time the picture of the semi comes up. Alex has given me a couple half-hearted attempts, but nothing to write home about. Until now. Now he totally gets into it. He even uses both arms while saying HONK! HONK! And I am ridiculously proud. He does listen to me!

Also, his pronunciation of motorcycle?...Mo-mo. Reminds me of Mariah's cat every time.

Whack!

This morning was a rough one. Alex woke up cranky and not even giving the dog treats would cheer him up. He was better in the car...chatting and chewing on his bagel. And then we got inside daycare and he wanted to go in the big kids room. And I wouldn't let him. So he hit me. Hard. In the head. Twice.

So I sat him down on this cute little baby sofa they have and got down to eye level to tell him he is not allowed to hit. And he started this little thing he does where he cranes his neck as far to either side as he can to avoid my eyes. So I grabbed his little chin and made him look at me while I, quite loudly now, told him again he wasn't allowed to hit me or anybody else. Aaaand the volume at which I told him that made him cry. Like freak out, almost hyperventilate cry. And all the teachers and Ryne's grandma got to witness. Feelin' like a really good mom.

Reaping what he sowed

Alex has gone from biter to bitee. All I can say about that...Karma is a bitch, kid.

It makes me feel a ton better about the biting situation. No matter how many times you hear or say, "a lot of kids go through a biting stage," it doesn't make dealing with it any easier. But having your kid change roles in the biting situation does help. It may be mean, but I can't help it. If he hadn't delivered the first strike, I might feel differently. But he did...And I don't. So now I get to kindly say, "a lot of kids go through a biting stage." Or, I stick with what I said to Ryne's mom this morning...It's not like he doesn't have it comin'.

Shahbel?

Alex loves loves loves to shovel. He has his own little red shovel that he pushes up and down the sidewalks until he is almost frozen solid. We had to bring his shovel with us on the ride to daycare today...and yesterday...and Tuesday. Loves. His. Shovel.

A surprise snowstorm arrived yesterday much to Alex's delight, and Travis was out shoveling the sidewalks when we got home. After watching to make sure the garage door went all the way down, Alex took off yelling, "Walk! Walk! Shahbel! Shahbel!" So I fetched his shovel from the car and caught up with him. Travis was all excited to have a shoveling partner...until he realized what Alex's idea of shoveling is. Which would be to stick his shovel into the snowbank as far as possible, pull snow back onto the sidewalk, and stomp on it. It was awesome.

After a bit of that, Alex, the shovel and I went for a walk around the block. We got the end of our street and we could hear Aiden barking at something. Alex stopped, turned back toward the house, put his mitten-clad hand up to his mouth and said "Shhh A-en! Shh!" And then he gave me a look like, Seriously, what are we going to do with her? and turned to get on with his walk.

I ended up shoveling a little red shovel's width worth of a path on part of the sidewalk with Alex right behind me, narrating my shoveling performance. I thought I was getting scolded until he paused, laughed crazily for a second and then motioned for me to carry on with making a path suitable for his delicate feet. This kid kills me.

Piggy

When this kid decides he is hungry, he is HUNGRY. There is no rhyme or reason to when he will be a bottomless pit. Or at least no rhyme or reason I can figure out. Which really isn't saying much since I can't figure out why some diaper changes upset him but he could care less about others. Or why he still thinks it's appropriate to hit me upside the back of the head when he is unhappy with something I have said. Or why he does 99% of the things he does. Me=Clueless. It's ok...I am getting used to feeling like a confused goldfish that jumped out of my bowl...floppin' all around, trying to figure out how to breath, eyes all buggy.

Last night was a bottomless pit night. We got home earlier than normal due to the doctor visit. Upon our arrival he ate about a cup of yogurt with at least 38 blueberries mixed into it. Next up, a banana. Then he moved on to some Doritos. And then an entire can of Chef Boyardee ravioli and meatballs, with a side of pickle. The whole can! I do not understand where all of this food mass goes.

By the way, Chef Boyardee is not only a convenient dinner, but the sauce also apparently serves as fantastic body paint. Just a little FYI.

Here, there, everywhere

We will be heading back to the doctor today. We were there yesterday because Alex has a red, bumpy, itchy rash taking over his skin. I was told it is most likely eczema. But with the fact that it kinda comes and goes added to it being way worse today than it was yesterday, I'm thinkin' looking at it again may not be a bad idea. And we didn't get to see his regular doctor yesterday. Don't get me wrong, the doctor we saw was very nice and clearly qualified, but there is just something comforting about having the doctor that has seen him every other time be the one to take a look. We shall see. For now I am just slathering that kid in as much lotion as possible in case it is just a horrid case of dry skin.

Red Team GO!

As I may have possibly mentioned in passing once or twice, Alex's antics when arriving and leaving daycare are a bit on the holyshitourkidisafullondemon side. From what I hear, yesterday's pick-up was the worst yet. Travis picked him up and when they got home, I asked how it went. His answer was a scared blank stare while slowly shaking his head no. So, that good huh? He said Alex's fit was so bad multiple teachers came over to check on them and see what was going on. At first I was all, "yeah, yeah, welcome to my world 4 afternoons and 5 mornings a week." But then I got to daycare this morning. And three different teachers asked me if I had heard about pick-up yesterday. And then I felt bad for Travis. But I justified that right out of my head by figuring that him getting one really bad pick-up is pretty equal to me getting EVERY SINGLE OTHER kinda bad pick-up/drop-off. Suck it up dude. Ahhhh compassion.

So this morning I was ready for battle. I got everything packed up and ready to go and gave us an extra five minutes to get Alex's coat on his squirming little spaghetti body. Probably should have given us at least 7 minutes, but we made it out the door and to daycare on time. And as we were pulling in, his friend Ryne was arriving as well. You should have seen their faces when they saw each other. They both lit up like roman candles and burst out laughing while pointing at each other. We took the kids in and they immediately started playing. One of their favorite games consists of Alex laying on the floor, the teacher laying his blanket over his upper body and head and Ryne then ripping the blanket away...Each turn of this game ends with them laughing like a couple of drunk hyenas.

During the second go 'round I saw my opportunity for a screaming-free exit. So the third time the blanket covered his face, I charged at Ryne's mom yell-whispering "GO! GO! GO!" And we ran. And we made it out undetected. Undetected by the kids anyway...the teachers were laughing at us. A lot.

And good morning.

This week the tantrums are once again peeking out from whatever hiding place they have been for a brief period. I did not miss them. They can go back into hiding at any time. An example of this that is making me so crazy is that one minute he freaks out if you make him come inside, but 3.8 minutes later he will freak out if you try to get him to put his coat on to go anywhere. Frustrating.

Yesterday's pick-up from daycare was just fantastic. He doesn't want to leave daycare. Everyday, any day, whenever. Leaving daycare is traumatic. I could tell him there is a mountain of blueberries waiting just for him in the car...wouldn't matter. And you can get that kid to do almost anything for a blueberry. Yesterday's tantrum was nothing new, but I just wasn't in the mood. So I grabbed him in one arm, his coat in the other and out the door we went. When I tried to put him in his car seat, the screaming only amplified and was accompanied by back arching and limb flailing. And I could feel myself losing it, and losing it fast. So I closed the door and walked around to the driver's door. Stood there for a second and breathed. And then I opened my door, started the car, and closed my door again. And he was instantly silent. Just sitting in his seat staring at me. He had this look like he really thought I had definitely lost it this time and was going to leave him in a running car. After a couple seconds, I walked back over, buckled him in, and handed him his snack cup. And all was again right in the world. All was right except my extremely overwhelming feeling of clueless-ness. I have no idea if I am doing anything right when it comes to this kid. Whatever. I am doing the best I can so hopefully that is gonna be good enough. Tell that to your therapist in 20 years kiddo!

So this morning I tried to circumvent the tantrum by being really excited about going outside! and going for a ride in the truck! and going to see friends at daycare! No dice. He saw his coat and crumpled into a pile of angry baby on the kitchen floor. I finally crammed his arms into his coat and zipped it up while he was laying on the floor and I walked toward the door. He managed to eventually pick himself up off the floor and join me. Yay.

This little fit brought on another issue I didn't notice until we were at the car. All the crying started up his runny nose again. And there I was without any tissue, buckling my snot-ridden little beast child into a car seat. The only thing I had...ShamWow. Pretty sure Vince doesn't list booger wiper up there with the millions of uses of the ShamWow. You're welcome Vince. Another selling point.

Or...no

Yesterday was lovely outside and Miss Mariah called to see if Alex and I wanted to go for a walk. I let her know to come on over whenever since I knew we were going to be outside anyway because going inside is NOT OK anymore. Ever.

When she got there I told Alex he had to put his gloves on so we could go for a walk. Which shouldn't be a problem for the kid that spazes out when his gloves fall off, right? Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. When I tried putting his gloves on him, he screamed like I was forcing him to listen to Meatloaf against his will. I asked him if he wanted to go inside. That was met with an incredibly resounding no. So I told him very matter-of-factly that if he didn't put his gloves on we couldn't go for a walk and we had to go inside. I figured the threat of going inside was going to be enough to get the damn gloves on his freezing little red hands. Nope. And that's when the sucky part of threats had to be carried out. We had to cancel our walk and go inside. I'm not going to get into the fit that caused.

I gotta admit, I kinda feel like it's not fair that I had to miss out on a walk because he was being a punk. Being a parent that follows through with consequences is lame.

Heavy weight

We have a big plastic bin for a bunch of Alex's toys in the living room. He likes rifling through it looking for something to play with. I like the fact that I can quickly throw most of his toys in a big ol' bin and have my living room back. But last night a new found hatred of said plastic bin reared its ugly head.

I was working out and swearing at Jillian, double jump roping my way to insanity. And apparently me jumping around was shaking the house enough that the toys in the bin were bouncing around and bumping into each other. Particularly one toy that makes wacky sounds every time you push a button. So with every jump I would hear Boing! Zoooop! Aahhhooogah! Nothing like realizing your weight jumping up and down is enough to shake an entire house. Really pumps up the ego.