Discovery of sugar

We've hidden the wonders of the world from Kate up until recently. We baked a birthday cake for a friend yesterday and used genuine icing to frost it (we reserve the fake sugarless stuff for family). Well, Kate was having a rough day with mom because a tooth is poking through on the top and was demanding to be held during every activity. This could have been a strategic move to get closer to the icing, but I trusted her intentions until... her finger dipped into the icing and she realized what sugar really is. It was all over after that. She squealed, struggled, and stretched until she got another taste.

Later that day, said birthday girl and her daughter came over and the girls decorated the cake. Well, her daughter decorated. My daughter kept trying to finger and spoon the icing into her mouth and off of the cake. In a classic selfish mom moment, I put a halt to all decorating because Kate was flipping out because I wouldn't let her decorate anymore. Group punished because of behavior of one. I'm sorry daughter of birthday girl, my cortisol levels were too high already and I just couldn't do it.

I realized this week that no one in my family has been to the dentist since Kate was born. Bad role models. No better time to schedule an appointment than with the discovery of sugar.

Outdoorsey Girl

Kate had a weekend of playing outside. She learned to climb a ladder into the treetops. She learned that you find boys in trees.

She moved some rocks into a lovely sand tray that really wasn't in need of rocks. You can see the shadows of all the adults standing around watching as she picks up larger and larger rocks as we waited to see if she dropped them. Mean adults. Mean.

And she went on a hike in her new baby backpack. I apologize that this picture isn't up to snuff. It doesn't do her danger justice. I carried her on our three mile hike which criss-crossed a small stream. This stream is crossed by jumping from rock to rock, which is normally easy. Your center of gravity is all wacked out with a baby on your back! I never once fell, thank goodness, but it took me forever to cross in a few places. Despite the scary terrain, Kate loved the backpack. All smiles the whole way. And we loved getting out on a hike again!

Today Kate and I went and ran around the lake. It was the first time I pushed her in the stroller by myself for the whole three miles. Afterwards we went and got a smoothie and soaked up our coolness.

Warm Weather Reprieve

We have been given some warm weather this week so we took advantage of it to get out and enjoy it. Daddy P gets off a little early on Wednesday to spend more time with us (he goes in at the crack of dawn to make this happen) so we headed out to the farmer's market for some snacking fun. We chilled on the grass and watch the babies and the dogs play, and munched on tacos. Yum....

Here's Kate running in circles as we tried to herd her into the car (with no luck). I did take some pictures of the ensuring tantrum as I made her get in the car, but Daddy P was so annoyed that I did I think I'll refrain from posting them.

Yesterday, Kate and I went to the park to play, and then walked to get groceries. I'm paying for it today with a head full of allergies, but it was worth it. Our new house is so near the market we can walk with little trouble.

The Great Escape

My parents are taking Kate overnight on Saturday night for the first time. Now, I'm not really sure who is Steve McQueen in this scenario -- Daddy P, Kate, or my Dad -- but someone is planning something big gosh darnit.

Kate has been watched overnight here, at our home, twice now by my folks. Although each time Daddy P and I have very much enjoyed our get-away at a local hotel, we are looking forward to sleeping in our own (usually more comfortable) bed. The reason this is Steve McQueen worthy is that Ms. Kate has never slept at my parents' house. You might think this is an exaggeration, but it isn't. She's slept at her Uncle Peter and Aunt Anne's house as an infant, she's slept at Daddy P's parents' house on vacations, and she has slept reliably at hotels throughout the country without fuss. She does not sleep at my parents' house. Now, everyone has their own theories about why this is true (examples range from "she's having too much fun" to "the decor is too scary to allow her to close her eyes"). (Ouch. I just report the facts.)

My theory is, of course, the most important and most likely to be accurate since I am Mom: Kate will not sleep there because, above all other things, Mom wants her to sleep there.

I feel that being put to bed by the grandparents without Mom and Dad being around will do the trick. Mom out of sight and out of mind. A snap.

Pray for us.

If this doesn't work, Daddy P and I might never get another overnight again...

In Love

This may seem to some to be about 15 1/2 months too late to say this. I know that many moms say this when they see that little pink plus sign. Even more moms say this when they hold their new warm pink bundles to their bare chest. For whatever reason -- hormones, my history, our mutually difficult personalities -- I have not said this until now. I am in love with my little girl.

Please don't judge me for saying this so late in the game. I have always loved Kate. I've protected her, nurtured her, and cared for her. But I now know that feeling that some of my mom friends gush about. Kate, in all her toddler rampaging glory, looks to my eyes as the most intelligent, wickedly humorous, inquiring little soul I have ever seen. When I think of her, I know what the buddists mean by opening your heart and feeling a sense of expansiveness. Everything she does is brilliant and bright. Even her tantrums have taken a new twist and feel less overwhelming and terrible. (My pediatrician's advice for toddlerhood: "try to find the tantrums amusing". Ha. Oh, you who has boys in college and does not remember, or perhaps never lived through, being at home with a toddler.)

Her tantrums used to slice me raw. My nerves seemed exposed. I felt as though I myself was at risk when she thrashed and cried inconsolably (which she did from only two months old). This week I have nurtured my daughter sick with a cold: rocked her to sleep on my shoulder, driven her through dark streets singing "Los Elephantes" over and over, laid next to her on the floor as she settled into calm, and cuddled and pet her as she struggled to get some breath into her little body. Moms are supposed to do this, you are thinking. That's what we do. But the feeling I carried with me in this was different than before. I was a calmer, more centered mom. I felt more open. Less vulnerable to absorbing her pain.

Granted, last night when she was screaming in a dissociative-like state, seemingly unaware of her surroundings, I was glad to have Daddy P to pass her off to so I could go and calm myself before returning. But I returned. Whereas months ago I would not have. I would have gone to cry on the floor. I always feared doing so just taught her that her emotions were too dangerous and overwhelming for even her mother to feel. Now, as I grow and heal myself, as I bathe her in the love I have for her, I feel more able to hold her pain and teach her she can feel this misery and still be safe. This is the one lesson I want to give to her: that she can feel every emotion, in all its gut-wrenching terror, and not feel alone, but feel safe and held in this world.

So yes. I am in love with my daughter. Joyful in love.

Things that go bump in the night

My daughter is a heavy sleeper. You might not think she would be since she's pretty sensitive to everything else, but she is. The night that a tree fell on the roof over her room, I bolted up out of bed and Daddy P was at the window before I could blink. (I think this is a byproduct of living with auntie em out in the heartland and scouting for tornadoes.) Although my reaction wasn't as drastic as Daddy P's I am usually hardwired for instant action in the dead of night. In the Northridge earthquake I was up and in the doorway before I was even awake. Literally. I woke up standing there. My dad tells me I was screaming as I was standing there before I woke up, but I don't remember that part. Anyway, genetically, you'd think Kate would be ready for anything in the dead of night. But when the tree fell? Kate cried out. Once. And never stirred other than that.

Last night, around midnight, the bed shook with the loudest, rip roaringness, LONGEST, thunder I have ever heard in my life. The dog bolted into our room and dove under the bed. Daddy P, again a good mid-Westerner, was up and at the window before you could snap your fingers. Kate? Oh, I flipped on the video monitor to find my little girl lying contentedly, cuddled with horsey, fast asleep.

She could be a doctor with the way she sleeps. She'll be able to sleep through anything anywhere at any time, this kid.

Oh, and on the "getting her to sleep later front"...

You know all those crazy sleep books that say something different in every book. Well, maybe that crazy doctor W is right... putting them to bed earlier makes them sleep later. Kate's cold has messed up her sleeping in big ways. Her 12 - 2 nap is now a 10:30 - 12:45 nap. And, as a result of the early wake-up, she wants to go to sleep earlier. Last night while I was at work she asked Daddy P for dinner at 5:30pm, asked for bath immediately after dinner, and asked for bed immediately after bath (thank you sign language). She's been in bed at 6 or 6:30pm this whole week, and here's the good part... she hasn't wanted OUT of bed until at least 7:15am. That's in contrast to 5:45am just a week or so ago!

Now, subsequently, last weekend we went to Ikea to buy a cheap plastic lamp to put on a timer. My thinking was that with her new very warm curtains, no light comes in her room at all. She has no sense of morning vs. night as a result, and I guessed that her circadic rhthym was all thrown off. So, now her light goes on at 7:20am every morning to let her know it's time to get up. She usually wakes around 7am now, rolls around and plays with her horsey, and when the light goes on is up on her feet and hollering to be taken from bed.

It's hard to know which of these really was the root of the sleeping-later, but man, I'll take it. All week I have had time to get up, get dressed, meditate, and grab a cup of tea before getting her out of bed. LOVE IT. Thank you, Ikea, and thank you, Kate.

Not too sick for dress-up

Despite a stuffy nose and no appetite, little Miss was in a pretty good mood (if she got her way). "Her way" consisted of putting my necklaces on and then taking them off for about thirty minutes, followed by putting Daddy P's shoes on and taking them off. Here's a pic of her all dressed up and waiting for her date.

I'm hoping that my super strong Mom antibodies keep me from getting the cold that the family is fighting. We will see if I succomb. I found myself thinking today, "gee, I never got sick when I was pregnant, and I've already been sick once in 2010... maybe I should just stay pregnant." I'm pretty sure that's the only explanation for large families. Well, and farms.

Hm... maybe we'll forget group care altogether

After spending a weekend surrounded by kids, Kate has a cold. Now, this is Kate's first real cold as a toddler. She had one other when she was a wee one. When I say this out loud, in a room with other parents who have kids in group care, they gasp. This is, apparently, not normal.

I'm not enjoying my little one struggling to breathe, or the sleeplessness that accompanies it for all of us. Maybe we'll just both stay home and forget this whole "job" thing. So overrated.

A Busy Weekend!

Kate had a crazy busy weekend! She was over-run with people as we threw our good friends a baby shower. We had about 4 one year olds, a bunch of infants, and a couple 3+ers. She was a little overwhlemed by it all, and hung back by dad most of the time. When everyone but her Uncle P and Aunt A left, she cut loose and played like crazy letting out all the pent up motion and excitement.

She got her first balloon out of the shower and loves watching it go up to the ceiling when she let go of it. Meanwhile, Daddy P and I are loving watching it deflate and inflate as we move it from the 30 degree outside to the 70 degree inside. Geeks we are.

She went to dinner with Daddy P and I to get some Thai food, and had her very first pad thai. She love love loved it, and so far, no reaction to peanut butter at all. They gave her a baby plate and baby fork for her dinner and she was a charmer until the end and then took the place down with wails.

She capped the weekend off with a trip to Ikea to buy her her very own table and chairs. She was giddy with excitement about helping Daddy P put it together. I even pulled out a bunch of toy tools that I had stashed away for just the right occasion. She actually really did help him. I couldn't believe it. Well, I guess "help" might be a bit extreme, but she was able to put the dowels and bolts in where he told her to... she just also wanted to take them out again...

That damn green grass way over there

While I wouldn't call it exactly a resolution in the New Years "I-want-to-do-this-but-will-only-try-until-March" Resolution sense, but I did resolve. Several months ago I decided to practice enjoying life. I realized somewhere in my thirties that happiness and enjoyment are very different. I can be unhappy, uncomfortable, and challenged, but still enjoy my life. I've always been good at wallowing, but enjoying unhappy and challenging moments isn't wallowing either. It's watching. It's noticing. It's just living.

I'm trying to live, live my moment.

It's hard to live your moment when you're peering over your neighbor's fence, noticing they have **real** grass, not this ugly bermuda stuff, that's feathery and soft and lush and green and -- what's that?! are those BUTTERFLIES?!

Such green grass over there, always such green grass...

My most recent "I love your grass and hate my own" moment has been about putting Kate in group childcare. Here's the setup to the story: We have two nannies who we love. They are such a blessing; women who give so much love to Kate and enjoy her so much and are for me, and employer/friend, such a joy to be around. Unfortunately, they are both students and one is leaving for the summer and the other is taking summer classes. This means we have to find another option for the summer, and likely the fall.

Daddy P and I have spent months on a childcare search. Polling neighbors and friends, reading blogs, talking to people, visiting schools... From all this work we have found two schools that we liked and that meet our very stringent yet somehow ambiguous requirements. One is Montessori, and one is play-based. Daddy P and I both agree that Kate would thrive in a Montessori environment. All she does now is open and close containers, pour and spoon things from one cup to another, and explore her environment. A born Montessori learner. She's also slow to warm up to change, and Montessori is all about the individual child's progress/comfort/movement, so I know she'd have the freedom to do things on her terms.

BUT. (Who said four letter words are the worst...that stupid three letter word is awful.)

BUT, Montessori schools are morning-based. The idea is that we are all fresher in the morning, more open for learning and exploration, and so, morning it is. This particular school does have an afternoon program as well, but they require the child attend in the morning.

Here is the grass is always greener part (I didn't forget, I swear. Thesis here we come):

I hated being a (other-imposed) SAHM. I went nuts.

But I cannot STAND the idea of not seeing Kate all day. I work afternoons. Which means, I am home mornings. Sending her to Montessori would effectively make me a full-time working mom. So do we go with the school we hands-down love and think will be best for who Kate is OR do we put her in a school that will be "fine" so that I can be home with her in the mornings? How can the same woman who fights so hard to get out the door by myself be the same one complaining about potential free time?

I feel like this boils down to one question: Am I better than a Montessori school?

A weird question, I know. And probably an exaggeration... We're at a bit of a gridlock in the house about the issue. Daddy P, who is trying hard to be sympathetic, is struggling with it because, well, he's gone all day. He can't relate to what I'm going through. I feel like we don't have many options, but I'm going to look at the next two places that we haven't seen yet -- on paper we weren't thrilled, but who knows, they could be great!

Ah, blah. So, anybody? Anybody? Who's better: Mamacita or Montessori?

A Cooking Lesson

Kate and Daddy P made pizza the other night, and Kate really enjoyed playing with the flour. The pizza was delicious! I hope they cook all the time!!

15 Month Update

 

Little Miss had her 15 month shots yesterday. She cried as soon as I set her on the scale until we left the examination room with a small break in between when there were no docs or nurses in sight. Now, this isn't sniffling. This is all out wailing. I can understand shots hurt, and I get that. But why the scale? And why the stethescope? Now, frankly, I don't like our pediatrician and am thinking about changing, but he isn't a bad guy. He's nice enough. But Kate hates him. The man hardly touches her but woo wee she hates him. Maybe I'll just take her to a new office everytime so she never knows what's coming. I have a feeling that would backfire and she'd end up screaming her head off the next time I tried a new supermarket...

She is 50 percentile everything apparently.

22 lbs.
30 inches

To convince her to play this merry game of picture taking, she needed both horsey, and Daddy P to play ball with her. As a result we got huge smiles. Speaking of horsey...

So parents, we have had a "horsey in the crib only" rule that we are breaking. We made the mistake of teaching her the sign for "horsey" which she now uses frequently to jail-break him. Now some of this is great, don't get me wrong. Today, when she was tantruming she signed for horsey, I got him, and she calmed herself down. BUT, do we now have to take horsey everywhere? Is she going to be that six year old dragging around a ratty horse? Do we care? I don't know. This is the current conversation in the family we are trying to figure out... Thoughts?

 

After noticing growth isn't much different, I thought, "Hair!" So here is a hair retrospective...

 

After playing ball for a while she crawled over to the other end of the couch and spent a few minutes backing up against the pillow and then just leaned herself back. Guess this is what she learned on Sunday during the Texans game...

 

From Guest Blogger: Grandpa

A trip to the park with Grandpa (who, after assuring us several times that he's had his flu shots, and after seeing no symptoms in Kate, was allowed to play) produced many giggles and smiles. (So I am told.) Daddy P even filmed Kate eating and laughing this morning so I could watch her giggles from my station in bed. We are hoping to break my quarantine tomorrow if all goes well, but may limit my exposure to our love one more day to be safe. I wouldn't give this bug to my worst enemy. Well, if I had a worst enemy maybe. But only if we were literally at war and it was self-defense. Huh. Self-defense bio-terrorism. Yeah, I'm sure that phrase just got us flagged.

I've had a lot of time on my hands to think and reminisce. And with my trusty computer by my side that has also meant look at old pictures. So here's one from the memory books... Kate at 3 weeks... Around that time we had given her her first bottle, I still hadn't been away from her for more than one hour, and we were not really sleeping at all. She was in her crib, and I was often found stationed in the rocking chair beside said crib. But, she'd already gone to Target several times, which is the most important thing to remember.

From Daddy P, the "guest" blogger

Here is a story related to me by Daddy P of our dear little Kate's antics.

This is Daddy P's first real go at being a Daddy without back-up. (Unless you count Grandpa coming over today so Daddy P can join a friend for lunch). All other times he's had grandparents swooping in, or me to help out. But since my quarantine continues, he has been on his own. Yesterday he decided to do all the errands he's been meaning to do in all of 2009 before the New Year. (Seriously. That many.) Last night after Kate went to bed he came in to sit at the foot of the bed and regale me with stories of the day. It's absolutely breaking my heart to have my family so close but not see them, so I pumped him for all the stories I could.

One of the many stops that he made yesterday was at the grocery store. Armed with a handful of store samples of fresh-made bread, Daddy P swooped through the aisles to find food for dinner, and something that his dear old wife would be able to keep down. As he made his way across the store, little Kate finished off the samples, and requested more. Seeing as he would have to cross the entire store to get more bread, he kindly explained that there was no more to be had. Kate then grabs his finger, and pulls it towards her. Then she grabs his wrist and pulls, then his forearm, until she has threaded his entire arm past her down into the cart so that his hand is resting directly on a bag of chips. Smart little cookie. She didn't get a chip, but she sure amused her daddy.