Archive for the 'baby' Category

Pew Pew

January 19, 2010

Through no fault of my own, my kid is becoming violent.  I mean, he doesn’t hit anyone, but he plays violently.  He makes guns out of everything, and if you take them away he just points his fingers and says, “I have two guns!”.  All his toys clash and fight.  And, he puts on epic martial arts battles in the living room–solo.

We have tried and tried not to let him see violent shows, or have violent toys, but there doesn’t seem to be a practical way out of this.  I was making pancakes when something on TV ended, and a show called “Rollbots” started.  He was enchanted and I had to make a decision right then and there.  I decided to let him watch, and we would talk all about it.  About how it wasn’t real.  And how real people never hit and fight (well, the real people we know!).  And how if something is scary it’s OK to say it’s scary and to turn it off.

Well, he was fine.  He wasn’t scared and he went about the rest of his day playing with his cars.  I talked to preschool about it, so that they would look out for him play fighting (which they do for all the kids anyway), but honestly, ALL the little boys play guns and fighting.  I’m sure they have to tell them to stop a million times a day.

So, we made a controversial parenting decision.  We let him watch “Rollbots” occasionally.  And a bit of “Ninja Turtles” and “Spider-Man”.  We got him a few action figures.  And we talk about it all the time.  We talk about good guys and bad guys.  We talk about pretending and reality.  We talk about hurting and playing.  And so far it seems to be working.  He got what he wanted–a few big boy toys and a few hours of watching big boy shows.  And you know what?  Nothing happened.  He still plays cars.  He’d still rather watch “Max and Ruby” (the most sickly sweet cloying kid’s show ever) than most anything.  But he also can hold his own a bit with the bigger kids at preschool.

I wish that my little golden baby angel would never point his finger at me and say “Pew Pew!” (That’s his gun noise.)  I can barely reconcile his big, baby head making a mean face while he bashes plastic dinosaurs together.  My heart hurts when he says that he’s Green Goblin and I’m Spider-Man and I have to get him, all the while punching the air.

But this stuff exists, and in his world it’s a big part of every day.  Spider-Man, Transformers, Batman–they are everywhere.  So the only thing I could think of is to meet it head on and just let him know that Mommy doesn’t like to play fighting and that Mommy doesn’t allow “Pew Pews”.  Maybe I’m just taking the easy way out, or maybe I was just tired of watching “Max and Ruby”, but even at three he has to navigate our world.  As long as we limit the Ninja Turtles (and all his screen time) to very small doses, I think that we are only going to help him grow.  At least, that’s what I’m telling myself as yet another battle between dinosaurs and Batman rages on in the living room.


Let them be little

March 12, 2009

Hello, it’s me, the Bub himself!  I’m here to set the record straight on a few things that other mommies are harshing on me about!

First of all, I still sleep in a crib.  I’m a crazy sleeper–when I sleep, and I need to be caged.  I like my crib so much, I don’t even try to climb out.  I like it so much, I ask for it by name when I’m tired.  I like being up high, so that when I stand up I can see mommy eye to eye.  There’s a rumor that there’s a toddler bed up in the attic, but I’m just not ready yet.

I also sit in a high chair.  I’m short, OK?  I can’t reach the table even with a booster seat.  I could sit in a booster seat with a tray–but that *is* a high chair.  I could sit at a little table by myself, but how fun is that?  Not very.  I want to sit up next to Papa and make faces at him and show him my seafood and have burping contests–from my high chair.  And utensils?  I tried that.  I used them for months.  They just slow me down.  I’m back to using my hands and loving it.

And, I am not potty trained.  I’m just starting to talk, and I can’t say all my letters yet.  I also find it tres amusant to answer every question with “no”.  Even “Do you want a cookie”.  Yes, I do want a cookie, but if I hear your voice go up in query I will say “no”.  Potty training now would just be frustrating for mommy and for me.  “Do you have to go potty?”  “No.”  Change wet pants.  Repeat.  Why not make it easier and wait until we all can communicate better?  My doctor said, “you can potty train at 2 and be trained by 3 or you can potty train at 3 and be trained by 3.”  Who needs a year of wet pants?

And the talking thing, I’m getting there.  I talk all the time.  I never stop.  But I can’t say all my consonants so no one understands me.  I also am sort of fuzzy on what words go with what things.  I need to be reminded all the time.  All cars are blue cars until I am reminded that the red ones are red.  Sometimes papa is mama.  Or, I forget and just call everyone mapa.  And I enjoy putting “my” in front of everything.  Even things that aren’t mine.  I’m sure I’ll get it all straightened out later this year.

I mean, I’ve only been alive for two years.  During that time I’ve grown hair, learned to walk and run and jump and climb, learned tons of words, been to the hospital twice, started to sleep more than 2 hours in a row, I eat real food–I mean, I do tons of things!  I’m a big boy!  As for all this other stuff, I’ll get there.  I promise.0303090924

What they don’t tell you

January 23, 2009

When you have your first baby at 40, your body doesn’t recover quite like it would if you were 20.  This, I expected.  But there is a lot of stuff going on I didn’t expect!

First of all, your hormones don’t ever recover.  Everything in my life is more vivid and crazy.  If you were a drama queen before, well now?  Look out.  You will cry at everything–everything you are not yelling at or completely joyful over.  And PMS?  Much, much worse.

And, your boobs just don’t stop.  I haven’t nursed in over a year, but the sound of old baby Brad Pitt crying in Benjamin Button made me leak through my shirt.  Hey, boobs, we want to DO Brad Pitt, not nurture him, OK?

You will pee your pants.  Sorry.  I mean, you won’t need astronaut diapers, but if you cough, you might leak.  And kegels?  What. Ever.  My kegels could tow a bus and it doesn’t make any difference.

When you are pregnant, your hair stops falling out.  You lose all the “extra” after the baby is born.  They tell you this.  What they don’t tell you, is that when you are old it all grows back grey.  All at once.  If you at all are feeling a bit down at being emotional, peeing your pants, not sleeping, not losing the baby weight and having to go back to work (or not) then losing fistfuls of hair and having the bald spots grow back white could quite possibly send you over the edge.  Be prepared and prepare your stylist so they can cover up all the damage before you notice it.

But, it just might possibly be worth it.hairrasing


November 18, 2008

buckethead  The bub has taken to wearing this blue plastic bowl on his head.  It’s his helmet.  He also puts bowls on the “heads” of other things, like his cars.  I think I might be overdoing the safety stuff.

Time changes are the suck.

November 7, 2008

When you are almost two, and something so small as using a different cup can ruin your day, then having everything happen an hour later than usual apparently can ruin at least a week.

We started moving the schedule forward last Thursday.  Eating dinner a little later and keeping the Bub up longer.  This was met with hearty disapproval.  Halloween we stayed up forty five minutes later.  But by Saturday the kid had totally had enough.He was crying all day, and met bedtime with huge tantrums.

It’s now been a week and even thoughhe does OK during the day, the nights are still pretty much screaming, starting before dinner and continuing off and on until he falls asleep out of sheer exhaustion.  He wakes up alot at strange times–even for my kid who is a champion night waker, and Papa and I are going crazy.

Added to that is me screwing up the wiring on our new thermostat, and cold weather coming back any day, and me not being able to fix anything because the help line is only open during business hours and they won’t give me any assistance when I’m not in the presence of the thermostat (believe me, I’ve begged the Indian call center to just give me a few suggestions and I’ll try them after work and call them back, but no) and Papa have unending painful dental work and I am about to lose it for good.

As extastic as I am about the election–I can’t enjoy it yet.  Not until we adjust to the new schedule, get heat in the house, and my husband out of pain.


October 29, 2008


He wore his costume for ages the other night!!  And, he went into the closet and put on my monkey slippers so that he would have matching shoes.  That’s my boy!

Can we skip Halloween and go straight through to Christmas?

October 21, 2008

“Don’t you want to be a silly monkey?”  “Look Mommy is a silly monkey!”  “Look, Teddy is a silly monkey!”  “Look, the kitty is a silly monkey!.”  “The lamp is a silly monkey!”

Every single thing in our entire house has worn the Bub’s Halloween costume–except the Bub.

Although he loves everything else being a monkey, he screams if we put the costume on him.  He will deign to put the hood part over his head, with the rest of the costume dangling like a cape on his back (Ha!  A monkey on his back!–this costume is a freakin’ monkey on my back.) but he doesn’t want it on.

At first, he looked at the costume and said, “no, no” and then waved “bye bye” at it.  We are making some progress.  Ten more days and hopefully he’ll wear it long enough to score us a bunch of candy!  This is my first Halloween with a kid who can trick or treat and I want to at least break even!  And I don’t want to have to photoshop my baby’s face over some other kid in a monkey costume’s picture to send out to the grandparents.

Customer Service

October 1, 2008

I’m actually not surprised that all the tips on dealing with toddlers are exactly the same as tips for dealing with difficult customers.  Although I’m not sure what this says about angry people.  Do we regress to toddlerhood when frustrated?  Or are we really closer to our kid selves than we’d like to admit?  Either way, my ages of customer service experience are serving me very well as a parent.

Google “angry customers” and you get tons of articles on what to do.  They all talk about empathy, using “I” statements and “active listening” and offering the customer alternatives to what you can’t do for them and for what is pissing them off in the first place (“I know we said your car would be ready today but the part didn’t come in.  I know how awful and inconvenient that is.  When my car is in the shop it’s just impossible to find rides.  Would you like to use our shuttle service?”).  And stay calm and use a soothing voice.  Sound familiar, parents?

Now google “temper tantrums”.  See?  You distract them with alternatives to what they can’t have (How about some raisins?  We’ll have a cookie later.)  You empathize and use “I” statements (I know you are angry that you can’t have a cookie, but cookies are for dessert and fruit is for snacks.  I would like a cookie, too, but we have to wait.)  Oh, and be sure to stay calm and use a soothing voice.  You do get to hug your kids.  I truly hope that hugging doesn’t become the next big thing in customer service!

I am absolutely sure that if I looked into it, most of these suggestions would also come into play when dealing with an angry dog, too.  I mean, you have to talk to it in a soothing voice and distract it with something, right?

We are all, from the cradle to the grave, just animals.  Or at least, toddlers.

Can you believe something this cute

September 2, 2008


was made in my belly?

Jim Jams

August 19, 2008

Why are pajamas the hardest things to find and buy and have enough of?  I just don’t get it.  It seems like Bub has about 100 pairs, but only one that is right.  The wrong pajamas mean he doesn’t sleep.  He’s too cold, or they bunch up, or the legs ride up, or the top comes untucked.  All I want are footed sleepers made out of thick T-shirt material that fit like a big 18 month or a small 24 month.  Oh, and they need to be cheaper than the freakin’ Carters ones that are 20 bucks each.

Or, I need it to get cold, and for Bub to get bigger, so that we can just get some 24 month blanket sleepers.

Or, I need a baby who sleeps under a blanket and doesn’t freak out if he pjs bunch up.