I'm trying to eat a little better these days, which lately has meant cutting back on carb-heavy meals in favor of lean proteins and veggies.
This morning, I made western omelets for Max and I. Of course, we shared with Maggie, who kept asking for more 'olemets'. Cracked me up. Just wanted that down for posterity.
And I'll happily forget that the 20 minutes prior to that, she did nothing but say 'no' and cry.
Showing posts with label toddler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label toddler. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
Still Clinging To the Nap For Now
I guess I needn't have worried. Are you seeing a pattern with my posts? Worry about something, calm down, and then report it's fine.
Same with the nap. A review of her weekly nap sheet at school shows she only skipped one nap this week. Her naps this weekend were shorter, but they were still there.
We had a great weekend, and I think part of it was that she got the rest she needed. No meltdowns or tantrums. She was really tired at the end of each day, but a calm, controlled tired that succumbed to a little quiet time after dinner, instead of thrashing her way to an early bedtime.
Same with the nap. A review of her weekly nap sheet at school shows she only skipped one nap this week. Her naps this weekend were shorter, but they were still there.
We had a great weekend, and I think part of it was that she got the rest she needed. No meltdowns or tantrums. She was really tired at the end of each day, but a calm, controlled tired that succumbed to a little quiet time after dinner, instead of thrashing her way to an early bedtime.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
That Nap
This is the post that every mom who blogs writes at some point. When her child begins to let go of their nap. When the toddler finds the strength to say, I think I can go all day without a break, thanks. And the mom screams, NOOOOOOOO! And then a car explodes behind her.
Moodle had a very successful ear tube surgery, and a week later we are seeing better language skills (she can suddenly say HIPPOPOTAMUS perfectly. and loudly). And we've gone a week without an ear infection, which is also a good sign. She's still adjusting to loud places and sudden noises. For a few days, she would cry whenever Max Powers would sneeze.
But in the week since the surgery, she has only napped 2 and a half times. Some days that's fine, other days she's cranky mess by the end of the day. On Sunday, she fell asleep crying in my arms 2 hours before her bedtime.
She's doing better napping at school than she did at home. But I don't know why the change. Did the change in volume in her world distract her so much she can't sleep? Is everything more interesting now that she can hear? Or did her ears just bother her so much that she was exhausted from the discomfort, and now they don't hurt?
All of those possibilities are positive, and I'm still glad we did the surgery. But man, I am going to miss that nap. That was MY nap, too, missy! Cue car explosion.
Moodle had a very successful ear tube surgery, and a week later we are seeing better language skills (she can suddenly say HIPPOPOTAMUS perfectly. and loudly). And we've gone a week without an ear infection, which is also a good sign. She's still adjusting to loud places and sudden noises. For a few days, she would cry whenever Max Powers would sneeze.
But in the week since the surgery, she has only napped 2 and a half times. Some days that's fine, other days she's cranky mess by the end of the day. On Sunday, she fell asleep crying in my arms 2 hours before her bedtime.
She's doing better napping at school than she did at home. But I don't know why the change. Did the change in volume in her world distract her so much she can't sleep? Is everything more interesting now that she can hear? Or did her ears just bother her so much that she was exhausted from the discomfort, and now they don't hurt?
All of those possibilities are positive, and I'm still glad we did the surgery. But man, I am going to miss that nap. That was MY nap, too, missy! Cue car explosion.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Syrup Ears
Moodle's surgery was yesterday, and it seemed like it went about the same as most ear tube surgeries do. The doctor met with us after the surgery but before she woke up. He said that they found that the fluid in her ears had thickened to the point where it looked like syrup or glue.
It broke my heart. It's her parents' jobs to make sure she gets what she needs. We were hesitant on ear surgery, because we heard so many stories of unnecessary surgery. Max Powers made the comparison that it was the braces of pediatric surgery, because they can be such a money maker. But in hindsight, we know that she needed it. The surgery seemed tailor-made for her problem.
I'm excited to see what happens to her language development. She wasn't behind, but she had the standard toddler-mangling of words happening. Maybe now she'll speak more clearly.
She's back at school today. At drop-off, the kids were being loud and rambunctious, and she seemed scared by all the noise. I know she'll adjust, but it was hard to leave her.
It broke my heart. It's her parents' jobs to make sure she gets what she needs. We were hesitant on ear surgery, because we heard so many stories of unnecessary surgery. Max Powers made the comparison that it was the braces of pediatric surgery, because they can be such a money maker. But in hindsight, we know that she needed it. The surgery seemed tailor-made for her problem.
I'm excited to see what happens to her language development. She wasn't behind, but she had the standard toddler-mangling of words happening. Maybe now she'll speak more clearly.
She's back at school today. At drop-off, the kids were being loud and rambunctious, and she seemed scared by all the noise. I know she'll adjust, but it was hard to leave her.
Monday, April 23, 2012
My Beautiful, Talented, Amazing Daycare Providers
To my beautiful, talented, amazing daycare providers;
Oh, how I love you. Let me count the ways. Wait, that's inaccurate, and plagiarism.
Oh, why I love you. Let me count the reasons.
Happy Young Childhood Education Week.
Oh, how I love you. Let me count the ways. Wait, that's inaccurate, and plagiarism.
Oh, why I love you. Let me count the reasons.
- You love my daughter, and you show her that love every weekday from 8:30 to 5:30. That alone makes you family. You love my daughter, even though you have your own kids to love. It takes a special kind of person to give that much of themselves.
- You make my daughter feel safe enough to be adventurous. I see this in the bumps and scrapes she gets, and that your facility diligently informs me of in a timely manner. And you make me feel safe enough that I do not worry about the bumps and scrapes, because I know they were iced and kissed, and that my daughter was cuddled as much as she needed to forget about it.
- You let my daughter get messy, in so many ways I could never have thought of. I do not mind when she comes home covered in dirt or paint or glitter, for it is your floor and tables covered in those things, and not mine.
- You display her art proudly. She notices, and excitedly points out her scribbles and handprints to me as I walk through the building with her.
- You did not freak out when I nervously informed you that we were not Christian. Your respect for our family's values has gone a long way in making me comfortable admitting that to other people.
- You teach my daughter what she is ready to know, no matter how old she is. Your whole class of 2 year olds knows the alphabet and numbers to almost to 10. My daughter knows to put things away when she is done with them, and regularly goes on the potty. You see my kid, and not just standard development milestones.
- You remember to tell me the little things. You fill me in on how my little one's budding personality is showing. You tell me the silliest or coolest or sweetest thing she did all day, every day. And that is precious to me.
- It's like you can smell the ear infections. You have never been wrong when you have informed me that she was acting off, and I should probably take her to get her ears checked out. You are 3-0 this year alone.
- You take the time to protect her. Eight little faces and arms and legs get sunscreen in the spring and summer, and eight little bodies got bundled and hatted and mittened all winter. I can barely do that for my one child. How do you manage to do them all and get them outside to play? But you do, every day.
- You are masters of zone defense. Where I would be herding cats, you have an organized game of ring around the rosie or story time or dance party or art. My daughter and all the children listen to you and respect you, because you have earned their attention and respect. And mine.
Happy Young Childhood Education Week.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Jesus Christ, Otolaryngologist
While the Wizard of ENT seemed like a knowledgeable, experienced sort of fellow, there were a few things in his practice that threw me.
For example, in our exam room, there was a certificate showing that he was a member of the Christian Society of Otolarygology. And nothing else on the walls.
My first snarky thought was, I had no idea that a simple carpenter had any surgical experience. My second, scarier thought was, this guy is old enough that his medical knowledge may have been significantly influenced by religion. Does he really use the most modern methods? Does he use prayer as a substitute for knowledge of best practices?
Apparently, this exists, and the website is kind of scary. What I found most off-putting about the website was the distinct lack of medical resources. Plenty of spiritual ones, but no medical ones. In fact, you could use the same website, use a find and replace for Otolaryngology, and insert any surgical field, and no one would be confused.
Christian Society of Podiatrists. Christian Society of Orthopedics. Christian Society of Ophthalmologists. All of them could use this website for their ministry.
Is this enough to ask for another doctor? Could I find a doctor in that practice that wasn't a member of that society? The second thing that gave me pause were several conspicuously placed Bibles throughout the practice. My guess is, if you were a partner, you toed the spiritual line.
Like most things, I turned to the internet. Those two things made me worry that perhaps I wouldn't be getting the best medical care if my doctor was distracted by his faith, but I had other resources. I took some deep breaths, and tried not to let prejudice or fear get in the way of fact.
The practice's website was noticeably devoid of any spiritual references, as was my doctor's specific page. And I find that he went to top medical schools and residencies (even if it was in the 1960s), has acted as Director of Surgery for a local, well-renowned hospital, and has held official positions recently in the American Academy of Otolaryngology. Also, their website was a font of information about Moodle's surgery, including links to modern best practices.
Information has a way of calming me down. The more I know, the better I feel, with just about everything. And now I have information. I have good reason to believe that whatever the Wizard believes, he believes in modern medicine, too.
For example, in our exam room, there was a certificate showing that he was a member of the Christian Society of Otolarygology. And nothing else on the walls.
My first snarky thought was, I had no idea that a simple carpenter had any surgical experience. My second, scarier thought was, this guy is old enough that his medical knowledge may have been significantly influenced by religion. Does he really use the most modern methods? Does he use prayer as a substitute for knowledge of best practices?
Apparently, this exists, and the website is kind of scary. What I found most off-putting about the website was the distinct lack of medical resources. Plenty of spiritual ones, but no medical ones. In fact, you could use the same website, use a find and replace for Otolaryngology, and insert any surgical field, and no one would be confused.
Christian Society of Podiatrists. Christian Society of Orthopedics. Christian Society of Ophthalmologists. All of them could use this website for their ministry.
Is this enough to ask for another doctor? Could I find a doctor in that practice that wasn't a member of that society? The second thing that gave me pause were several conspicuously placed Bibles throughout the practice. My guess is, if you were a partner, you toed the spiritual line.
Like most things, I turned to the internet. Those two things made me worry that perhaps I wouldn't be getting the best medical care if my doctor was distracted by his faith, but I had other resources. I took some deep breaths, and tried not to let prejudice or fear get in the way of fact.
The practice's website was noticeably devoid of any spiritual references, as was my doctor's specific page. And I find that he went to top medical schools and residencies (even if it was in the 1960s), has acted as Director of Surgery for a local, well-renowned hospital, and has held official positions recently in the American Academy of Otolaryngology. Also, their website was a font of information about Moodle's surgery, including links to modern best practices.
Information has a way of calming me down. The more I know, the better I feel, with just about everything. And now I have information. I have good reason to believe that whatever the Wizard believes, he believes in modern medicine, too.
Monday, April 16, 2012
The Wizard Has Spoken
We visited the ENT on Friday, and he told us that the surgery option was a no-brainer for Moodle. Apparently, ear tubes were designed for her particular problem. And since she is otherwise completely healthy, the surgery should present almost no risk to her. It took him all of 10 seconds of looking in her ears and mouth to make the recommendation.
He spent plenty of time answering our questions about getting her ears wet, flying, risks of surgery, and everything else. And another nurse in the office followed up with us while we were scheduling the surgery about more specific things we thought of after the doctor had left.
I'm still a little scared for my baby. But on to surgery!
He spent plenty of time answering our questions about getting her ears wet, flying, risks of surgery, and everything else. And another nurse in the office followed up with us while we were scheduling the surgery about more specific things we thought of after the doctor had left.
I'm still a little scared for my baby. But on to surgery!
My Dog, Myself
We started training classes for Fat Dog yesterday. She's a good dog, but she's stubborn, and fanatical about food, and jumps on you to say hello. The food thing means that Moodle has gotten knocked over pretty regularly, and has had her food stolen from her hand almost daily. Fat Dog is smart enough to know an easy target when she sees one.
Fat Dog has never bitten or snapped or reacted in any way to Moodle's slapping, pinching, tail pulling, and ear investigating, other than to get up and leave when she has had enough. Apparently the trail of Cheerios and the occasional stolen morsel is payment enough to ignore those atrocities.
But she does jump on Moodle to say hello. Fat Dog is getting skinnier, but is still a 30 pound beagle. And Moodle is getting bigger, but is still a 23 pound shrimpy toddler. You don't have to have my kind of physics credentials to see what happens.
We're getting better with both of their behavior, but training will help. It also provides needed focus and impetus on she and I taking daily walks (which we both need). And it gives me an hour a week with just the dog, for Daddy and Moodle to have some fun by themselves.
Fat Dog has never bitten or snapped or reacted in any way to Moodle's slapping, pinching, tail pulling, and ear investigating, other than to get up and leave when she has had enough. Apparently the trail of Cheerios and the occasional stolen morsel is payment enough to ignore those atrocities.
But she does jump on Moodle to say hello. Fat Dog is getting skinnier, but is still a 30 pound beagle. And Moodle is getting bigger, but is still a 23 pound shrimpy toddler. You don't have to have my kind of physics credentials to see what happens.
We're getting better with both of their behavior, but training will help. It also provides needed focus and impetus on she and I taking daily walks (which we both need). And it gives me an hour a week with just the dog, for Daddy and Moodle to have some fun by themselves.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Minty Butt Fire
Poor, poor Moodle.
I mentioned that we are in the middle of another course of antibiotics for Moodle, and trying to stem the tide of poop that usually comes with it. And we have failed. Augmentin has won, and has claimed by daughter's butt.
Moodle has been blowing out her diapers since Sunday, despite several servings of yogurt and bananas every day. And yesterday, her butt was so red and inflamed that she couldn't sit down. She actually penguin walked for most of the morning.
I called the doctor's office, and spoke to the nurse. She told me to put Maalox on her butt, let it dry, and then put on a barrier layer like I had never constructed before. A fortress of petroleum jelly so thick, we would not be touching her skin the next time we wiped.
I had never heard of this Maalox trick. And the internet seems divided on it. But I figured it couldn't hurt, so we ran out to the store to get some. She did great at the store, and I managed to grab some other things we needed while we were out. But Walmart was out of Maalox. With the pharmacist's help, I found the off-brand equivalent, but they only had it in mint flavor. Close enough, I reasoned.
I don't know if this trick is supposed to burn, or if it's the mint additive, but Moodle screamed like the devil as I put it on her. And then ran away the next time she saw me get the bottle. She was cool with sitting on an inch thick pillow of Desitin and Vaseline, though.
By the end of the day, she had stopped penguin walking, but was still sitting down very gingerly. Like, old lady slow. I actually saw her walk up to her bouncy toy, put a hand on it for a moment, regard it with a tinge of sorrow, and then walk away.
I took her back to school today, with butt paste barrier in place, and instructions to use the whole damn tube of diaper cream today, and that I would bring another tomorrow. It was a rough, slow drop off, effectively erasing all the progress we've made on getting me out quickly. But I guess minty butt fire is as good of an excuse as any to start over.
I mentioned that we are in the middle of another course of antibiotics for Moodle, and trying to stem the tide of poop that usually comes with it. And we have failed. Augmentin has won, and has claimed by daughter's butt.
Moodle has been blowing out her diapers since Sunday, despite several servings of yogurt and bananas every day. And yesterday, her butt was so red and inflamed that she couldn't sit down. She actually penguin walked for most of the morning.
I called the doctor's office, and spoke to the nurse. She told me to put Maalox on her butt, let it dry, and then put on a barrier layer like I had never constructed before. A fortress of petroleum jelly so thick, we would not be touching her skin the next time we wiped.
I had never heard of this Maalox trick. And the internet seems divided on it. But I figured it couldn't hurt, so we ran out to the store to get some. She did great at the store, and I managed to grab some other things we needed while we were out. But Walmart was out of Maalox. With the pharmacist's help, I found the off-brand equivalent, but they only had it in mint flavor. Close enough, I reasoned.
I don't know if this trick is supposed to burn, or if it's the mint additive, but Moodle screamed like the devil as I put it on her. And then ran away the next time she saw me get the bottle. She was cool with sitting on an inch thick pillow of Desitin and Vaseline, though.
By the end of the day, she had stopped penguin walking, but was still sitting down very gingerly. Like, old lady slow. I actually saw her walk up to her bouncy toy, put a hand on it for a moment, regard it with a tinge of sorrow, and then walk away.
I took her back to school today, with butt paste barrier in place, and instructions to use the whole damn tube of diaper cream today, and that I would bring another tomorrow. It was a rough, slow drop off, effectively erasing all the progress we've made on getting me out quickly. But I guess minty butt fire is as good of an excuse as any to start over.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
The Wizard of ENT
Moodle was diagnosed with yet another double ear infection yesterday. If my memory serves me, this is the third this year, and the 12th in her lifetime. If you count by ear rather than instance of infection, I think we are up to 19. This bought us to the long-dreaded point of no return on the path to the ear, nose, and throat doctor, and almost certainly to tubes.
We know it will help. She's miserable with these things, and does a great job making us miserable too. And everyone we know that has gotten them said it did great things for their kid.
But we were hoping to squeak by one more time into summer without needing them. She didn't get any ear infections last summer (the last one was in May, and they started up in October), so I don't know if having surgery in April is the right thing. And I'm not thrilled to put my kid under the knife. And I'm certainly not looking forward to calling my insurance to see if this is covered.
In the end, we always do what's best for Moodle. And we'll fend off the flying monkeys along the way. Today the flying monkey is diarrhea, as we begin another round of antibiotics. At least she likes yogurt.
We know it will help. She's miserable with these things, and does a great job making us miserable too. And everyone we know that has gotten them said it did great things for their kid.
But we were hoping to squeak by one more time into summer without needing them. She didn't get any ear infections last summer (the last one was in May, and they started up in October), so I don't know if having surgery in April is the right thing. And I'm not thrilled to put my kid under the knife. And I'm certainly not looking forward to calling my insurance to see if this is covered.
In the end, we always do what's best for Moodle. And we'll fend off the flying monkeys along the way. Today the flying monkey is diarrhea, as we begin another round of antibiotics. At least she likes yogurt.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Conquering the Giraffe
Moodle finally did it! After 5 visits to the Indianapolis Children's Museum, she finally rode an animal on the carousel.
She had been telling me all week that she was going to ride a giraffe. Yeah, yeah, I thought, I'll believe it when I see it. Every other time we've went, she's been excited by the giraffes, but when I tried to put her on, she would cling to me like a monkey.
We were not planning on heading to the museum this weekend, but it's the first time in a while that Max Powers had actually been home over the weekend. He was caught up on sleep, no one was sick, and I think he was starting to feel a little guilty that mommy had been doing so many activities with Moodle by herself.
So, Sunday afternoon we flexed our membership again. And as we made the drive, I realized that she might actually do it this time. I don't know if all kids are like this, but my kid is much more adventurous when Daddy is around. When it's just Mommy, she can be awfully clingy. I try to just let her relax and go at her own pace, but she tends to be much more reserved. When it's Mommy and Daddy, she will tear it up, no matter where "it" is.
Once we got to the museum, I slyly passed her off to Daddy as we passed through the line and onto the carousel. And like nothing, he plopped her on the seat, strapped her on, and we got grins all around. We kept praising her as the ride started, but it was just like I expected. With Daddy's hand on her back, she had a great time on her giraffe. And, when we went back for one more spin before we left, she conquered a tiger. And Mommy got in trouble for holding up the carousel to take a picture.
She had been telling me all week that she was going to ride a giraffe. Yeah, yeah, I thought, I'll believe it when I see it. Every other time we've went, she's been excited by the giraffes, but when I tried to put her on, she would cling to me like a monkey.
We were not planning on heading to the museum this weekend, but it's the first time in a while that Max Powers had actually been home over the weekend. He was caught up on sleep, no one was sick, and I think he was starting to feel a little guilty that mommy had been doing so many activities with Moodle by herself.
So, Sunday afternoon we flexed our membership again. And as we made the drive, I realized that she might actually do it this time. I don't know if all kids are like this, but my kid is much more adventurous when Daddy is around. When it's just Mommy, she can be awfully clingy. I try to just let her relax and go at her own pace, but she tends to be much more reserved. When it's Mommy and Daddy, she will tear it up, no matter where "it" is.
 |
| Ain't scared of no giraffes |
Once we got to the museum, I slyly passed her off to Daddy as we passed through the line and onto the carousel. And like nothing, he plopped her on the seat, strapped her on, and we got grins all around. We kept praising her as the ride started, but it was just like I expected. With Daddy's hand on her back, she had a great time on her giraffe. And, when we went back for one more spin before we left, she conquered a tiger. And Mommy got in trouble for holding up the carousel to take a picture.
Monday, March 26, 2012
See You Later, Alligator
Today was a lovely day to attempt to shorten the daycare drop-off dance. There were only two other little kids there today, and we were so late that they were more than halfway through breakfast. And it wasn't our normal teacher (who is a wonderful person), but another wonderful teacher who used to be a regular in this room, and who loves Moodle to pieces.
I like to have Moodle walk in the door of her room under her own power, so it doesn't feel like I'm dumping her, and that still took a few minutes. She actually stands just outside the doorway for a minute or two, finger in mouth, looking at me like I'm an idiot while I explain why she should come in the room.
While she was having her internal debate, I told the teacher about my problems; timing and guilt. No worries, she says, I'm ready. Once Moodle was safely in the room, I bent down, picked her up, gave her a big hug and several kisses, and whispered our goodbye in her ear, "I love you. See you later, alligator." Then I handed her to our wonderful teacher, turned tail, and booked it. I caught a waver of the lip, but didn't hear her distinctive wail as I headed down the hall.
It took about 5 minutes, but I bet it isn't that short most days, even with my steely resolve to end the dance. We can do it!
I like to have Moodle walk in the door of her room under her own power, so it doesn't feel like I'm dumping her, and that still took a few minutes. She actually stands just outside the doorway for a minute or two, finger in mouth, looking at me like I'm an idiot while I explain why she should come in the room.
While she was having her internal debate, I told the teacher about my problems; timing and guilt. No worries, she says, I'm ready. Once Moodle was safely in the room, I bent down, picked her up, gave her a big hug and several kisses, and whispered our goodbye in her ear, "I love you. See you later, alligator." Then I handed her to our wonderful teacher, turned tail, and booked it. I caught a waver of the lip, but didn't hear her distinctive wail as I headed down the hall.
It took about 5 minutes, but I bet it isn't that short most days, even with my steely resolve to end the dance. We can do it!
Friday, March 23, 2012
Leaving Day Care Has Become a 20 Minute Ordeal
Why has it gotten so hard for me to do daycare drop off? I find myself coaxing Moodle into the room, and then sitting with her until she agrees to get off my lap and go to the breakfast table at school. It takes about 20 minutes for me to get out of there. I know I can go in, bring her into the room, give her a kiss and a hug, and go. I know she will cry, and that our lovely teachers can handle that.
I know kids have some separation anxiety at this age (we turn 22 months this weekend!). It's not that I can't bear to see her cry. It sucks, but at least I know why she's crying, and that it's developmentally appropriate, so it doesn't haunt me. And I know she's probably done with it before I even make it out of the building.
What bugs me is that I know she will need the attention of her caregiver as soon as I leave. And so if I show up when the kids are having breakfast, I feel guilty leaving her to deal with Moodle's tears while also juggling three or four kids who are eating or just starting to eat, or cleaning up, or making sure the resident spitfire doesn't draw on the walls with his breakfast burrito.
I need to get over it. Or I need to get to school 10 minutes earlier so I'm not in the middle of breakfast prep. I think I also need to talk about this with our teachers, so they can work their teacher-y magic, and we can work together to get me over it.
Any suggestions for streamlining our morning?
ps...Moodle eats like a Hobbit, so we call her school breakfast "second breakfast". Lunch is "elevensies".
I know kids have some separation anxiety at this age (we turn 22 months this weekend!). It's not that I can't bear to see her cry. It sucks, but at least I know why she's crying, and that it's developmentally appropriate, so it doesn't haunt me. And I know she's probably done with it before I even make it out of the building.
What bugs me is that I know she will need the attention of her caregiver as soon as I leave. And so if I show up when the kids are having breakfast, I feel guilty leaving her to deal with Moodle's tears while also juggling three or four kids who are eating or just starting to eat, or cleaning up, or making sure the resident spitfire doesn't draw on the walls with his breakfast burrito.
I need to get over it. Or I need to get to school 10 minutes earlier so I'm not in the middle of breakfast prep. I think I also need to talk about this with our teachers, so they can work their teacher-y magic, and we can work together to get me over it.
Any suggestions for streamlining our morning?
ps...Moodle eats like a Hobbit, so we call her school breakfast "second breakfast". Lunch is "elevensies".
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Moodle's First Honest-to-Goodness Tantrum
Moodle and I had a big weekend. Apparently, it was a little too big. I'm going to describe all the not-tantrum-y parts, because I'd like to show you how many opportunities for bad behavior she skipped, choosing instead to unload them in one massive display.
On Saturday, we checked out a local gymnastics gym that has open play in the morning. Moodle was a little intimidated by the huge room and all the stuff. When a few of her friends from daycare showed up, she relaxed and finally started playing. I got a great workout just by playing myself, showing her all the fun stuff she could do. And I peed my pants a little while jumping on the trampoline. I love getting old.
The parents of one of her friends (we'll call him LaLa) invited us and the other kids we knew over the next afternoon for some playtime. Score! This is our first invite, and I like the kid, so I was excited.
Then Moodle skipped her nap. Determined to wear her out, we dashed back to the Children's Museum, and had a blast playing Legos and Mr. Potato Head. She had fun, but chickened out of riding a horsie on the carousel again. Next time, maybe.
We grabbed some fast food in town (chili and chicken nuggets), while Moodle flirted with an older gentleman, and headed home to a peaceful bedtime. No tantrum yet. Be patient, it's coming.
Moodle slept fine, and the next morning, we headed out shopping. Before we got going, I bought her an apple, which kept her occupied in the cart for almost the whole trip, and a strawberry rounded us out through checkout. No tantrum yet, just wait.
Good nap, then we headed to our playdate. Moodle had a great time playing for 3 hours with LaLa, and her other friends, Mondo and Eggles. They ate fruit and splashed in water and read books and played trains. All the kids were on their best behavior, and the kids and parents alike had a lovely visit. I was excited to have some grown-ups to talk to, even though we were just starting out, and most of the conversation was about our kids. Wait for it, it's coming.
We got safely home, and I got dinner on the table quickly, but it was clear Moodle was overtired. Everything was a struggle, including things she liked. She ate fine, but was getting super cranky. I decided to try to head it off at the pass, and drew her bath an hour early. But every little bump or touch was setting off the water works.
Bath time was mildly bad. She slipped a little, and some water splashed on her face, so she bawled and clung to me over the side of the tub. But eventually she was clean, the bubbles were gone, and we got out. And she brushed her teeth with a only mild amount of resentment.
Then things just got confusing. She wanted to sit on the potty, but cried sitting on the potty. She screamed like I was beating her while I brushed her hair, even though there were no knots. She regarded the diaper as a torture device. She seemed scared of the dog, who was resting at a safe distance and trying to stay out of the drama. But eventually we were dressed, and we retired to the bedroom for stories.
And then, BOOM (here's the tantrum). She flopped on her pillow pet and lost it. All of it. Screaming, kicking, flailing at nothing, flopping, and crying. Thank goodness I had been reading the book, and knew to just let it run its course. For 15 minutes, all the bad behavior she had been holding back all weekend poured forth in a frothy rage. I sat a little ways away and let her do it, taking deep breaths and reminding myself there was nothing I could do until she was done.
When she finally stopped beating up the air and was sobbing sadly, face down in her pillow, I gently started rubbing her back, and reading the silliest book we had out loud. Eventually, she climbed into my lap, still crying, and sniffled and hiccuped through two more books. When I pulled out the last book we read every night, she starting wailing again, but settled back to crying softly when I read it in a whisper. She barely managed a hug as I put her in her crib, and whispered our nighttime stuff. She cried for 10 minutes, a long time for her, and finally fell asleep.
Once the noise subsided, I poured myself a large glass of wine, and watched Storage Wars until Max Powers called to chat. I relived the drama for him, but I'm not sure I did it justice. This account was much more detailed.
On Saturday, we checked out a local gymnastics gym that has open play in the morning. Moodle was a little intimidated by the huge room and all the stuff. When a few of her friends from daycare showed up, she relaxed and finally started playing. I got a great workout just by playing myself, showing her all the fun stuff she could do. And I peed my pants a little while jumping on the trampoline. I love getting old.
The parents of one of her friends (we'll call him LaLa) invited us and the other kids we knew over the next afternoon for some playtime. Score! This is our first invite, and I like the kid, so I was excited.
Then Moodle skipped her nap. Determined to wear her out, we dashed back to the Children's Museum, and had a blast playing Legos and Mr. Potato Head. She had fun, but chickened out of riding a horsie on the carousel again. Next time, maybe.
We grabbed some fast food in town (chili and chicken nuggets), while Moodle flirted with an older gentleman, and headed home to a peaceful bedtime. No tantrum yet. Be patient, it's coming.
Moodle slept fine, and the next morning, we headed out shopping. Before we got going, I bought her an apple, which kept her occupied in the cart for almost the whole trip, and a strawberry rounded us out through checkout. No tantrum yet, just wait.
Good nap, then we headed to our playdate. Moodle had a great time playing for 3 hours with LaLa, and her other friends, Mondo and Eggles. They ate fruit and splashed in water and read books and played trains. All the kids were on their best behavior, and the kids and parents alike had a lovely visit. I was excited to have some grown-ups to talk to, even though we were just starting out, and most of the conversation was about our kids. Wait for it, it's coming.
We got safely home, and I got dinner on the table quickly, but it was clear Moodle was overtired. Everything was a struggle, including things she liked. She ate fine, but was getting super cranky. I decided to try to head it off at the pass, and drew her bath an hour early. But every little bump or touch was setting off the water works.
Bath time was mildly bad. She slipped a little, and some water splashed on her face, so she bawled and clung to me over the side of the tub. But eventually she was clean, the bubbles were gone, and we got out. And she brushed her teeth with a only mild amount of resentment.
Then things just got confusing. She wanted to sit on the potty, but cried sitting on the potty. She screamed like I was beating her while I brushed her hair, even though there were no knots. She regarded the diaper as a torture device. She seemed scared of the dog, who was resting at a safe distance and trying to stay out of the drama. But eventually we were dressed, and we retired to the bedroom for stories.
And then, BOOM (here's the tantrum). She flopped on her pillow pet and lost it. All of it. Screaming, kicking, flailing at nothing, flopping, and crying. Thank goodness I had been reading the book, and knew to just let it run its course. For 15 minutes, all the bad behavior she had been holding back all weekend poured forth in a frothy rage. I sat a little ways away and let her do it, taking deep breaths and reminding myself there was nothing I could do until she was done.
When she finally stopped beating up the air and was sobbing sadly, face down in her pillow, I gently started rubbing her back, and reading the silliest book we had out loud. Eventually, she climbed into my lap, still crying, and sniffled and hiccuped through two more books. When I pulled out the last book we read every night, she starting wailing again, but settled back to crying softly when I read it in a whisper. She barely managed a hug as I put her in her crib, and whispered our nighttime stuff. She cried for 10 minutes, a long time for her, and finally fell asleep.
Once the noise subsided, I poured myself a large glass of wine, and watched Storage Wars until Max Powers called to chat. I relived the drama for him, but I'm not sure I did it justice. This account was much more detailed.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Guacamole Moodle
This is the post where I brag because we are finally seeing some payoff in Moodle's eating habits. We've been struggling for more than a year now to strike the balance between offering her new, different foods and offering her foods we know she will eat, while simultaneously tricking her into eating vegetables and meat. And making sure she doesn't get bored with her food choices.
Eating is a requirement for living. Why is it so complicated when there is a toddler involved?
Anyway, we've been plugging away at it for a long time now, and we are at the point where we try not to make a big deal out of anything. We just put it in front of her, and then show her that Mommy and Daddy are enjoying it. Works maybe half the time. If I'm worried she didn't eat enough, I throw some fruit on her plate at the end of the meal. Parenting is about compromise, or so I'm told.
Yesterday, Moodle and I went out for our first dinner at a sit-down restaurant with just the two of us. Usually when it is just the two of us and we go out, it's more like McD's. But I really didn't want fast food, and I had a long day, and didn't want to cook either, even something easy. Max Powers and I had discovered a local Mexican joint, and it seemed like a pretty relaxed place. And nachos sounded delicious. Plus, they give you warm chips and mild salsa while you wait for your food, which Moodle would love.
I let her play on the bench next to me while we waited for our food and ate chips and salsa. And when they brought out the guacamole I ordered, Moodle dug in with a chip without waiting to be invited. Score! She's rejected avacado in the past, but seemed to enjoy this, especially when she realized she could dip the chip in both guac and salsa. She was enjoying it so much, I started to worry that she was going to fill up on chips before our dinner even got there.
It turns out I needn't have worried (which is usually true). When dinner came she ignored my crazy nachos (so delicious! amazing queso) and dove into her wet bean burrito. They were considerate to put it on a cool plate (they usually serve on hot plates to keep the food warm longer), and once I cut it up she ate half a huge burrito with her hands. She even settled into her booster seat with no complaints.
When the server came by to ask how our food was, he just laughed. "She doesn't need to tell me she likes the food. You can tell from her face!" Which was, of course, adorably covered in beans and red sauce. As was her sweatshirt, my sleeve, and the table. She grinned at the waiter through a mouthful of burrito. When we were done, I cleaned up as best as I could, and left a good tip.
As we left, I was feeling like parent of the year. Dinner out with no behavior problems, great eating, and new foods. But apparently Moodle REALLY liked this place, because she started kicking and screaming as we were leaving. Certainly loud enough to disturb other customers, and so I hastened my exit as best as I could.
Sigh. Bubble was burst. But as Meatloaf said, two outta three ain't bad.
Eating is a requirement for living. Why is it so complicated when there is a toddler involved?
Anyway, we've been plugging away at it for a long time now, and we are at the point where we try not to make a big deal out of anything. We just put it in front of her, and then show her that Mommy and Daddy are enjoying it. Works maybe half the time. If I'm worried she didn't eat enough, I throw some fruit on her plate at the end of the meal. Parenting is about compromise, or so I'm told.
Yesterday, Moodle and I went out for our first dinner at a sit-down restaurant with just the two of us. Usually when it is just the two of us and we go out, it's more like McD's. But I really didn't want fast food, and I had a long day, and didn't want to cook either, even something easy. Max Powers and I had discovered a local Mexican joint, and it seemed like a pretty relaxed place. And nachos sounded delicious. Plus, they give you warm chips and mild salsa while you wait for your food, which Moodle would love.
I let her play on the bench next to me while we waited for our food and ate chips and salsa. And when they brought out the guacamole I ordered, Moodle dug in with a chip without waiting to be invited. Score! She's rejected avacado in the past, but seemed to enjoy this, especially when she realized she could dip the chip in both guac and salsa. She was enjoying it so much, I started to worry that she was going to fill up on chips before our dinner even got there.
It turns out I needn't have worried (which is usually true). When dinner came she ignored my crazy nachos (so delicious! amazing queso) and dove into her wet bean burrito. They were considerate to put it on a cool plate (they usually serve on hot plates to keep the food warm longer), and once I cut it up she ate half a huge burrito with her hands. She even settled into her booster seat with no complaints.
When the server came by to ask how our food was, he just laughed. "She doesn't need to tell me she likes the food. You can tell from her face!" Which was, of course, adorably covered in beans and red sauce. As was her sweatshirt, my sleeve, and the table. She grinned at the waiter through a mouthful of burrito. When we were done, I cleaned up as best as I could, and left a good tip.
As we left, I was feeling like parent of the year. Dinner out with no behavior problems, great eating, and new foods. But apparently Moodle REALLY liked this place, because she started kicking and screaming as we were leaving. Certainly loud enough to disturb other customers, and so I hastened my exit as best as I could.
Sigh. Bubble was burst. But as Meatloaf said, two outta three ain't bad.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Spring Fever
Last night, both Fat Dog and Moodle were bitten with some kind of bug. The kind of bug that comes out the first time of the year it stays warm into the evening. The kind of bug that comes out after we spring forward, and daylight hangs on until almost toddler bedtime.
Moodle and I had to head to Walmart because she pooped on her shoes at daycare, and she didn't have any other play shoes in her size. She giggled, played, and flirted with everyone she saw. When we got home, it was still light, and still warm. She didn't want to play in the backyard, so we spent 20 minutes climbing up and down the stairs to our front porch, and running in circles in the driveway. I offered to get her some toys, but she didn't need them.
When we headed inside, Fat Dog seemed to have the same idea. While Max Powers took over playing with Moodle, I headed to the fenced-in backyard for some playtime with pooch. One of our hillbilly neighbors had his pitbull off-leash (!!!!), and it came over to sniff our hyper beagle through the fence. It marked said fence while Fat Dog freaked out, helpless to save her precious fence from the stench of pitbull pee. Then she chased her flying squirrel toy for 15 minutes, working through her outrage.
But the outside time didn't seem to drain either of them. Apparently, they are either plants or Nuclear Man, and run on sunlight. Because then we had a 20 minute marathon of dog and toddler running through the house, playing tag or chase or some other unintelligible game that they both seemed to love, and could not be stopped.
Add it up, ladies and gentlemen. Dinner ended at 6:20. Trip to Walmart: 1 hour. Front yard play: 20 minutes. Backyard play: 20 minutes (including 5 minutes of dog freak-out). Indoor play: 20 minutes. That makes it 8:20, and time for bed. But Motoring Moodle is still going, and doesn't even have her PJs on. Usually by this time of night, we are well into books and snuggles. What the heck is going on?
Damn you, Spring Fever!
We managed to round up Moodle, get her in PJs, and onto a lap for story time. I ended up having to lock the dog in our bedroom so they would stop the crazy positive-feedback loop. She ended up in bed after a few stories, and going to sleep just fine, only a few minutes late.
Afterward, Max Powers and I realized it was funny, and we were lucky to have an active kid with a great pet friend like Fat Dog.
But then I couldn't get to sleep, either. Damn you, Spring Fever!
edit: ps...Our family lives 20 minutes from Walmart, and it's the closest place to get stuff like that. It didn't take very long to pick out new sneakers. This should also explain our hillbilly neighbors. We have several of them.
pps...This was all after a full day at daycare, where she also played outside and they did their damndest to wear her out.
ppps...I am still exhausted from my bout with the flu last week, and I STILL couldn't get to sleep. Damn you Spring Fever!
Moodle and I had to head to Walmart because she pooped on her shoes at daycare, and she didn't have any other play shoes in her size. She giggled, played, and flirted with everyone she saw. When we got home, it was still light, and still warm. She didn't want to play in the backyard, so we spent 20 minutes climbing up and down the stairs to our front porch, and running in circles in the driveway. I offered to get her some toys, but she didn't need them.
When we headed inside, Fat Dog seemed to have the same idea. While Max Powers took over playing with Moodle, I headed to the fenced-in backyard for some playtime with pooch. One of our hillbilly neighbors had his pitbull off-leash (!!!!), and it came over to sniff our hyper beagle through the fence. It marked said fence while Fat Dog freaked out, helpless to save her precious fence from the stench of pitbull pee. Then she chased her flying squirrel toy for 15 minutes, working through her outrage.
 |
| Nuclear Man from Superman IV |
But the outside time didn't seem to drain either of them. Apparently, they are either plants or Nuclear Man, and run on sunlight. Because then we had a 20 minute marathon of dog and toddler running through the house, playing tag or chase or some other unintelligible game that they both seemed to love, and could not be stopped.
Add it up, ladies and gentlemen. Dinner ended at 6:20. Trip to Walmart: 1 hour. Front yard play: 20 minutes. Backyard play: 20 minutes (including 5 minutes of dog freak-out). Indoor play: 20 minutes. That makes it 8:20, and time for bed. But Motoring Moodle is still going, and doesn't even have her PJs on. Usually by this time of night, we are well into books and snuggles. What the heck is going on?
Damn you, Spring Fever!
We managed to round up Moodle, get her in PJs, and onto a lap for story time. I ended up having to lock the dog in our bedroom so they would stop the crazy positive-feedback loop. She ended up in bed after a few stories, and going to sleep just fine, only a few minutes late.
Afterward, Max Powers and I realized it was funny, and we were lucky to have an active kid with a great pet friend like Fat Dog.
But then I couldn't get to sleep, either. Damn you, Spring Fever!
edit: ps...Our family lives 20 minutes from Walmart, and it's the closest place to get stuff like that. It didn't take very long to pick out new sneakers. This should also explain our hillbilly neighbors. We have several of them.
pps...This was all after a full day at daycare, where she also played outside and they did their damndest to wear her out.
ppps...I am still exhausted from my bout with the flu last week, and I STILL couldn't get to sleep. Damn you Spring Fever!
Monday, March 5, 2012
Cat Food
This morning, Moodle helped herself to some of the cat's kibble. At least we don't feed the feline wet food.
Long-Term Memories
As Moodle gets older, we're starting to see long-term memory kicking in. And we couldn't have seen it if we didn't relax occasionally, and do something fun, memorable, and out of the ordinary. I mean, sometimes she spontaneously waxes poetic about waffles, but we eat waffles for breakfast pretty regularly.
A few weeks ago, we bought a membership to a Children's Museum in our nearest big city. It's about 1 hour and 20 minutes away. The membership included unlimited free carousel rides. While we had fun in many exhibits, the carousel and the "fun, fast horsies!" made a big impression on my daughter.
On Sunday morning, Moodle sat down next to me on the couch, and started asking if we could have "fun". "Sure, sweetheart. What would you like to do?" "Fun, fast horsies! In a circle! Round round! Fun!"
I made no promises at that point, but why argue? She was recovering from her latest ear infection, being well-behaved, and we hadn't been out all weekend. Plus, Max Powers had been gone all last week for work, and then all weekend for an annual engagement in his hometown. When she finally took a good nap, I called him up. Since he was driving home through the city, we made plans to meet there. Not only would she get to see the horsies, she would get to see Daddy an hour earlier than she would have otherwise.
She got up from said good nap, and we quickly left to make the drive. She was well behaved until the last ten minutes ("Up! UUUUUUuuuuuuUUUUUuuuup!") We parked, recovered her shoes and socks (flung off as part of the self-amusement process), and headed straight for the carousel.
While she still hasn't worked up the courage to ride a horsie, she had a blast. We alternated carousel rides with the games and mazes that surround it. And when Daddy showed up, the first thing she did was drag him on the carousel. While they rocked a bench, I rode a horsie where she could see me, and snapped this pic.
.JPG)
She was right. Totally worth the return trip. And the membership meant I didn't stress over only being there for two hours. While we drove longer to get there and back than we actually spent in the museum, I'm sure it's not the drive she'll remember.
A few weeks ago, we bought a membership to a Children's Museum in our nearest big city. It's about 1 hour and 20 minutes away. The membership included unlimited free carousel rides. While we had fun in many exhibits, the carousel and the "fun, fast horsies!" made a big impression on my daughter.
On Sunday morning, Moodle sat down next to me on the couch, and started asking if we could have "fun". "Sure, sweetheart. What would you like to do?" "Fun, fast horsies! In a circle! Round round! Fun!"
I made no promises at that point, but why argue? She was recovering from her latest ear infection, being well-behaved, and we hadn't been out all weekend. Plus, Max Powers had been gone all last week for work, and then all weekend for an annual engagement in his hometown. When she finally took a good nap, I called him up. Since he was driving home through the city, we made plans to meet there. Not only would she get to see the horsies, she would get to see Daddy an hour earlier than she would have otherwise.
She got up from said good nap, and we quickly left to make the drive. She was well behaved until the last ten minutes ("Up! UUUUUUuuuuuuUUUUUuuuup!") We parked, recovered her shoes and socks (flung off as part of the self-amusement process), and headed straight for the carousel.
While she still hasn't worked up the courage to ride a horsie, she had a blast. We alternated carousel rides with the games and mazes that surround it. And when Daddy showed up, the first thing she did was drag him on the carousel. While they rocked a bench, I rode a horsie where she could see me, and snapped this pic.
.JPG)
She was right. Totally worth the return trip. And the membership meant I didn't stress over only being there for two hours. While we drove longer to get there and back than we actually spent in the museum, I'm sure it's not the drive she'll remember.
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