X-man and Pretty Girl: Cooperation

X-man and Pretty Girl had a playdate this morning. They did really well together. There were lots of hugs and train and space ship play. It was very restful to sit on the floor and watch them interact. 

More thoughts from class

I'm loving my Infant and Toddler class at Parkland. I take away lots of new things every class to use not only with my focal child (our lab is to spend time with a child under 24 months each week and record specific observations) but with my own child. 

It teaches me to take a step back and not be so emotionally involved or strung out every day. A few months ago, a number of local bloggers, who are mothers, talked about how they feel as their kids move into the toddler realm that they're yelling becomes the primary source of communication. "Don't touch that! Don't hit your brother! Don't pull the dog's tail! Don't eat food off the floor! Don't pick your nose and eat it!" I have the same issue. 

These kinds of things get repeated over and over and over again. Along with "Good girl! Bad Boy!" It's frustrating to realize we're only speaking in the negative or that we're issuing time outs every 20 minutes, or we're giving unclear compliments, where if you're hearing good than at some times you must be "bad." Instead we should be telling our kids what we like about their behavior or what we don't like.

For example, yesterday morning, X-man was stalling when getting into the car. I asked him if I could help him. He refused. Two minutes later he's still dawdling in front of the car. I had given him a warning that if he wasn't in his car seat by the time I counted to 20, I was putting him in it. He tested that. I picked him up and placed him in the seat. He screamed, hauled off and smacked my glasses off. Mommy's red alarm went off. Steam came out of my ears. Before Infant and Toddler I would have issued a time out or I may have even shouted at him that he was a "Bad boy" before I shouted about how hitting hurts. 

Instead, I tried to follow what I'd learned in class and be specific. "Hands are NOT for hitting!" I said it loudly, but not screaming. "You hurt Mommy! I do not like being hit!" 

X-man immediately started crying and reached for my face, kissed my cheek, handed me my glasses and tried to help me put them on all while saying, "Sorry Mommy!" When he calmed down, I took a minute to talk to him about how we use our words when we're frustrated, and how Mommy is trying to keep him safe and on schedule. She's not trying to be mean by making him get to school on time.

Do I think this will prevent hits in the future? I have no idea. But I did see a big difference between this and both of us sitting in the garage crying after we both had a dose of regretful behavior. So, um, I'm calling it a good choice for X-man.

In addition, the time we spend with our kids where we do have quality time with them is often directed by adults. "Is that a blue block? What shape is it? Is it a square?" As adults we get in kids' faces and ask them all these questions. Then we tell them what to do in loud, demanding, critical voices. We hope to teach them right from wrong. We hope to teach them colors, shapes, numbers and letters. We hope to teach them to share with their friends, to be cautious, to be independent, to be kind. 

It's a huge, huge job. And one that no one I've ever talked to feels like they've done a good enough job no matter how much effort, blood, sweat and tears goes into it.

In class, I'm starting to learn to do things differently. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. But the ways that Nancy's teaching me to interact with children makes  lot of sense. A lot of it, I've always done naturally. But I'm working on changing from a parent who commands all of the interaction to a parent who just sits on the floor and lets their child lead. Make it all about the child and his/her choices rather than make it about me and what I think the child should be doing. 

And that's the stickler between generations. It's a complete cultural change from the way people used to think about child rearing. It used to be that kids were supposed to follow their parents commands. It was a sign of respect. But behind that "respect" was a healthy dose of fear of getting in trouble. And "trouble" could mean a wide variety of things depending on what discipline was like in your family. So not only was there actually no respectful behavior going on toward the parent when a child followed directions out of fear, but the lack of respect was reciprocal. Parents who think they should be able to drag their kids wherever the adults want to go when they want to go is disrespectful to a child. There are excursions that are NOT developmentally appropriate for children. 

For example visiting someone's home can be a large problem for both a parent and a child. If a home is not childproofed and has a lot of nicknacks or fragile pieces near the floor, a parent spends the whole visit following a toddler around moving things or saying "No." It takes a lot of work on behalf of the parent and is discouraging for a child. He or she simply won't want to go back there if the place is like a museum. Infants and toddlers like to explore and try new things. They get messy. They're amazed by how things work. They need environments that support that, which may require others to travel to them rather than expecting a family to always be on the move.

A long time ago, before X-man was born, MacTroll and I agreed that we were going to put X-man's safety and our own sanity first. This means we've had to think about things in a different way. People who haven't had hands-on experience with toddlers in a while might not understand why we do things. They may think critically of us and think we're spoiling our child. But apparently, our gut instinct when X-man was in utero reflects a lot of the theories behind modern infant/toddler educational theory. Not that we ever feel guilty about the choices we make, but it does help to know that we've got research on our side when we worry about people taking offense to the fact that we decide not to attend things or go places because it's not in the best interest of our child at that particular day or time or age.

Parenting is a hard job, and my readings all support that every adult that works with small children 8 (or if you're a stay-at-home parent -- 24) hours a day need substantial breaks to step away and regroup so they can continue positive interactions with their kids. And most of the stay-at-home parents with small kids that I know don't get one -- ever.

So it's not surprising that we all go bat shit from time to time.

Why we eat out

Okay, so we've been cooking up a storm at our house. And we have a bunch of left overs. So I decided to make them for lunch today.

I reheated some taco for Xander and put it on a plate. 

Then I reheated a bratwurst and put it on my plate. 

Then all hell broke loose.

"My sausage!" he screamed. So I offered to switch. 

"No! My taco!" 

Back and forth. Until he threw a tantrum and cried and lied down on the couch crying and moaning. Only to sit up and say, "Scared of the dark." 

Yeah, um, it's 11:15 a.m. and there's a strong southern exposure lighting up the living room.

Then he noticed -- I had eaten the taco.

"Mommy, go away! Go away! My plate! My taco!"

So, um, I did what any mother does. I started laughing uncontrollably. 

I laughed so hard that I had to usher myself upstairs and left MacTroll knee deep in a temper tantrum while he was trying to use the leftover grilled chicken in his new George Foreman grill/griddle/wafflemaker/panini machine that he purchased at Wal-mart yesterday. Why a George Foreman you ask? Because he found out that in all stores in Savoy -- charcoal is a seasonal item that isn't around in January. Cause he's the only insane person willing to stand out in 15 degree weather to grill. 

Ahhh -- the tirade has ended with MacTroll putting Toy Story up on the big screen. With any luck, the little crazed lunatic will pass out on the couch.

"Turn the page!"

X-man's favorite books this month:

1. Go, Dogs, Go! by P.D. Eastman

2. Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak

3. Mars Needs Moms by Berkeley Breathed

4. B is for Bear by Roger Priddy

5. Long Train: 101 Cars on the Track by Sam Williams

6. I Spy a Candy Cane by Jean Marzollo

7. The Caboose Who Got Loose by Bill Peet

8. Curious George and the Rocket by H.A. Rey

9. Teeth are Not for Biting by Elizabeth Verdick

10. Airport by Byron Barton

What are you or your family reading?

An Update from the Frontlines

I've got 24 hours and 36 minutes to go before MacTroll's plane is supposed to land at the Savoy Willard Airport. In that time, I've got a lot of stuff to get done. But it's stuff I like to do. So I'm really happy about that. 

And I wanted to ask a question to the parents who read my blog. Do you ever feel like your kid is the "bad kid" in his playgroup? If you do, do you just choose to stay home more? Or do you think it's more helpful to have them in social environments, even if you have a terrible time following them around all the time?

I think about that all the time. Mostly because of the physical stuff I go through with X-man. I think about it when he pushes or bites or throws something at a friend. There's this part that just wants to go crazy -- except he can't just run and jump and tackle the other kids -- lots of times because he's so much bigger than they are and other times because when he gets overexcited -- he bites. And it's completely unpredictable. He can jump on and play with Wondergirl and be fine. But then he gets around other kids and chomp! 

So, I keep trying him in a controlled environment where there's other stuff to do. But as he gets older, he starts to get more "rough house" excited. And I'm worried. Really worried. And I swear, I'm waiting for one of the other parents to completely cut me to my knees about it.

It should have been a good day

Today was going to be an awesome day. I was going to get up, spend some time with X-man, get him to school, go have an hour-long massage and then go to yogalates at the gym. I've been dying for that class to fit into my schedule, and it's a bit too late in the morning most of the time.

Afterwards, I had the usual errands to run. I needed gas. I wanted to buy some kids some books from the giving tree over at Pages for All Ages. I needed to mail some X-mas presents, buy some canned cat food, plan the party games for Saturday's CARE party, work on my menu for the party, clean my house and bathe my dog. 

But Monday night, X-man was wiped. He'd had a hard day at school. If anyone invaded his personal space, he pushed them down. My normally very huggy and friend-oriented kid gets moody, particularly when he doesn't nap. And well, he has been refusing to nap so we've been settling for quiet time lately. It obviously doesn't work well. Instead, on our way back from picking up our cat from his dental cleaning/surgery on Monday, X-man fell asleep at 6:15 p.m. in his car seat. He didn't wake up on the transfer into the house. He slept through the diaper change. And he kept sleeping. He's done this a couple times before and usually goes 12-13 hours straight through.

I went to bed by 10 p.m. expecting it to be an early morning. But I have to admit, I didn't think that morning was going to come at 4:42 a.m. with a toddler jumping on my head and pulling the sides of my hair like he was riding me like a horse. I screamed in pain and said, "No!" and "Get off!" And instead he giggled and pulled harder.

I got away, and I was angry. I shouted. I snatched him from my bed, and I carried him to his room, changed his diaper, turned on his bedroom light and told him to play there. It lasted 30 minutes... then he came back in SHOUTING, "MOMMY!"

I sat up thinking something was wrong. He just wanted me to play with him. I said no. I pointed out that it was still dark and Mommy was still sleeping. He didn't care. 

Then he said, "Mommy, tummy hurt." 

Duh -- of course. He was STARVING. He'd last eaten at 2:30 p.m. I begrudgingly went downstairs. He asked for a banana. He ate the whole thing. I gave him another one and some apple juice. I turned on Bob the Builder. I went upstairs to get ready for the gym. I bashed the side of my left little toe into one of the wooden chairs at his drawing table. 

I got dressed. I brushed my hair and my teeth. I washed my face. I went downstairs and let out the dog and fed the cats. I dribbled wet cat food juice on my clean shirt. I made myself an egg sandwich. I ate it. I made X-man one at his request, he ate one piece of bread and dumped the rest onto the table. 

I started to feel sick. I ran to the bathroom. I started retching. Nothing came up. 

I got him dressed. He then wanted to use the potty. "Mommy, Poopy! Potty!" He didn't quite get there. But he sat on the toilet and took the world's smallest pee anyway. It was the first time he registered using the restroom with pooping, so I gave him a car anyway. I tried to put a new diaper and his pants back on. He didn't want it. We struggled. I got them on. He fought me on the socks and then the shoes and then the coat. We got in the car. I dropped him off and realized I'd forgotten to bring the thank you note for his student teacher.

I drove home, got the note, filled my car full of holiday boxes to be mailed. I got some gas. I went to my massage. Lorree Harty at Hair Design at Knollwood gave me an extra 30 minutes on my 60-minute massage for free. Not going to complain about something I really needed. It was too late to make it to yolates. Instead, I dropped off the thank you and did my Pages shopping. I found nothing for my aunt or my husband, but did do my annual giving.

I made a deposit at the bank and then I went home. I ate left overs for lunch. I did the dishes. I ran the laundry. I did some accounting. I hung up all the ornaments X-man yanked off the tree. I cleaned two of the toilets. I wrote Christmas cards. 

I felt tired and sick to my stomach still and achy all over. I took a nap. I woke, still really tired. I took a hot shower. I got dressed. I picked up X-man. The teachers said he napped. We bought cat food. We came home. He's been all over me ever since. It's like he's manic with energy. He screams when he wants something. I'm constantly reminding him to talk to me nicely. He runs up to me when I'm on the phone wanting me to direct my attention to him. When I get off the phone and sit down to play with him. He bosses me around. So I say I won't play with him because he's not treating me nicely. 

I make dinner. He can smell the french fries. He starts shouting for them. They're still cooking and they're too hot. He shouts at me to blow on them while they're still in the oven. When they're finally cooled off, we eat. He won't talk to me. He's mad I turned off the TV to talk to him.

Later, I have to restart the iMac. He freaks out when he can't watch Snoopy on demand. Instead, he gets placated with the Wiggles. Then, he runs up to me while I'm writing something on the calendar and hits me in the back. He gets a time out. Fresh out of time out he dumps the paper recycling all over the floor of the room.

I call an early bath time so we can do an earlier bed. We take a bath in Mommy's bath. We play and smile and I wash his hair and his body. He plays with Salty and the washcloth. I get into my pajamas. I get his pajamas ready. 

He refuses to wear the ones I pull out. He refuses to get his own. It's another struggle. He pulls down his pull up, "Pee on potty, Mommy." He leaks a little down the front of the diaper. I take him to the potty. He tries to rip the shower curtain down. I tell him no and to be gentle. He pees and gets his sticker and his Tootsie Roll. He brushes his teeth. 

Bedtime. I read three books of his choice. We talk to Daddy over Video iChat. He wants to sleep in Mommy's room. So I tuck him in and turn off the lights, but leave the hall light on as a night light. He wants me to lie with him. So I do. He puts his blankie over my head and bites the side of my temple through it. I say, "Ouch! No Biting!" He laughs. 

I decide to remove myself from harm. I tell him I love him and go to his room, so he can fall asleep, which is our norm when Daddy is gone lately. He gets up and follows me. I tell him it's time to go to bed. He wants to sleep in his room... he's still in the hall whining and calling out for me, while I lie in my bed with the door closed feeling like a complete asshole.

Why can't it ever be easy? Why is everything a flipping struggle? 

Night-time discoveries

X-man has been off and on going to bed at night in our bed and then getting transferred to his when he is asleep. He thinks there are monsters in his room and no amount of reassuring, sign posting or creative monster removal seems to make him think differently about that. 

Apparently, MacTroll is the only one who can keep him safe until he falls asleep. Then at 4 a.m. he wakes up for some reason and comes running into our room to lie with us for another three hours. 

This is okay -- except when MacTroll ain't around. For the last two nights, I just didn't mess with transporting him and let him sleep in our bed. And for two nights he has been talking in his sleep around 3:30-4 a.m.

"Mommy! Come back! Mommy! Don't go."

He wakes up just enough to hear me saying, "I'm right here. It's okay." And then he lunges for me, falls asleep on my chest and in the morning he has no memory.

What if this is a repetitive thought that wakes my kid up every morning at the same time? And really, the only time he's away from me is the six hours he's at school... So, really, why is he afraid I'm walking away? 

Mmmm. 

The magic of NASCAR

Last night at 5:30 p.m., I turned on the TV. We only get 5 stations, and I was tired of X-man's cartoons. I flipped through the 3 PBS stations we get, the CBS one and landed on the ABC HD station. It was a NASCAR race, and X-man who was playing with his cars on the floor hooted. "Chick Hicks, Mommy!"

So I left it on and went to start dinner. X-man had fought my prior dinner suggestion, so I whipped up something other than chicken tomato chowder (which sounded good on a warm night). At 6:10 p.m. I called him to dinner. "No, I'm fine." It's his favorite sentence these days when you ask him a question.

At 6:27, the race was over. The winning car drove around the track with the checkered flag. X-man stood up, ran to the couch, climbed onto it, hugged his blanket, rolled away from the TV and fell asleep. Boom -- in five seconds. 

"Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhh, crap, do I wake him up or let him sleep?"

I decided if I carried him up to his room and he stayed sleeping than it was meant to be. If he woke up and protested, we'd probably do a normal bedtime.

So, my kid slept from 6:30 until 11 p.m. in his room. Then he came in and threw himself in my bed. I was too tired to return him, so we slept that way. At 4 a.m. he woke up and ran into the hall to turn on the light for a night light, came back and fell back to sleep.

It's 6:50  a.m. and it looks like he might be waking up... But he's just standing next to the bed with his face on the mattress... oh, no, he just took his blankie onto the floor to sleep... 

Crazy toddlers.

Update: I had to wake him at 7:30 a.m. 13 hours of sleep. 

Stimulation

We're back from Philadelphia! We had a short, but fun visit with our friends BNB and their little Peanut. I'll have reviews of the Please Touch Museum and the Philadelphia Zoo at some point this week. I've got a full schedule today and tomorrow, but I hope to get them typed up and uploaded with photos... and even a couple of movies. 

As for this post, I want to talk about something I always knew but which X-man illustrated in spades this week. My boy is a stimuli addict. He wants to see and do new things at all times, and if he doesn't do it when it's on his schedule, he gets a bored and unruly. 

I've noticed on days when we stay at home, if we've been at home too much lately, he starts to whine and misbehave. But if I take him over to a friend's house, or we go to a museum or even to the flipping grocery store, he usually adjusts his mood.

So yesterday was a huge day of stimuli. He woke up in a happy mood and went downstairs with me to play with the airplane and bus that I picked up for him at the museum store. B offered to make waffles (and she does a gorgeous job), but X-man, who usually LOVES waffles, made it clear he wasn't interested. And he turned really grumpy.

So, we helped clean up and got our stuff packed into the car and said our goodbyes and drove to the Philadelphia Zoo. The minute we were through the zoo gates he was a different child. He was running from exhibit to exhibit asking the names of all the animas that he didn't know (pygmy marmoset, etc.) and saying, "Hello!" And then describing everything in the animals' habitat and each animal's activity level. 

"Mommy, lemurs are sleeping!" 

"Mommy, bats are eating fruit!"

You get the idea.

After the zoo we went to the airport and checked in the rental car. X-man was describing the different cars. Then he helped lug his closed stroller over to the Hertz bus, handed it to me, climbed on board and sat down near the back of the bus. And he stayed seated the whole time.

The airport was deserted in mid-day. But he waited in line patiently while we did the self check-in and he was an ace about going through security, even when he had to put his shoes, coat, blanket and toy plane into a bin. 

We ate at a McDonald's that time forgot, which was in some kind of management upheaval. Huge drama going on with animated staff. But X-man had his hamburger and fries and chocolate milk and was STARING out the window at the airplanes. He'd count them in English and in Spanish. He'd announce when buses or trucks would arrive. He called the luggage carriers trains. 

Then we went to our gate where we had a LONG wait due to weather in O'Hare. But he and I played trains and airplanes and cars and buses for 2 hours. We listened to some military folks chat with some new recruits. It was frightening. There was an 18 year old kid who was on his way to basic training. And the more experienced members were telling him what to expect. The kid's eyes kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger. And I kept thinking, "Was he a victim of predatory recruiting?" Because this kid had NO idea what he was getting into. He asked what I thought were basic questions to know before signing away your life. 

He was upset about the getting up at 4:30 a.m. He was upset about taking classes. The guy told him that anything he saw on TV was sensationalized and that it's really easy and not scary to go through basic training. And then 5 minutes later he told the kid that when he got off the bus they would start screaming in his face and take his stuff and ridicule him and not to take it personally and to just let it happen. It was met to "shock him." 

And all I could picture was "An Officer and a Gentleman."

About 10 feet away were some active duty folks who were playing with kids in the terminal with a stuffed basketball. It was two men and a woman. They stuck together like a team, were very friendly with civilians, but also kind of quiet. Not at all boisterous like the guys taking in the young recruits. I kept wondering if they were going back to Iraq for a tour of duty. They were clinging to the life around them rather than boasting about the military.

Then we got on the plane... only to get to the end of the jetbridge and be told that O'Hare had just moved our flight time back two hours. So we turned around with an upset X-man saying, "Bring me a new plane! Bring me a new plane!"

So we found the children's play area and hung out there until we got back on the plane. He slept the whole way from Philadelphia to Chicago. And then we had 2 hours until our flight left (it was late) from Chicago to Champaign.

We got home at 10:30 p.m. last night. X-man was still wired, but MacTroll and I were pooped. I got him ready for bed, and we brought him in with us and all fell asleep.

Stimuli. All day. And our kid was an awesome traveler. 

Life and Death

X-man's world is crumbling at this very second because he cannot take a bath in Mommy's bathtub and has to take a bath in his bathroom with all of his toys.

Seriously. He's been carrying on for 15 minutes. MacTroll has wisely stopped trying to reason with him and is just letting him cry it out until he can cope with us saying No.

Meanwhile, I have just finished sorting all of the clothes for the swap tomorrow into Boy/Girl sections. And I'm about to carry in a crazy amount of Toys. 

The Annoying and Cute Post: It's a little salty and a little sweet

The road in front of my subdivision has been closed going west since Monday. The construction was supposed to be over at the close of business yesterday, but this morning when I went to take X-man to school the construction guys were still working. This annoyed me. A lot. 

I ask X-man every morning and before bed every night if he wants to use the potty. A few weeks ago he was interested. Now he doesn't give a damn. But I feel like I should ask, even though the answer is always no. Incentives and praise and positive reinforcement aren't enough... so we'll give that some time.

On the way to school X-man wanted to count. So we started counting. He always stops at 24. I'm not sure why... you'd think if he got 21-24, he'd just keep going with 25, 26, 27... but he doesn't.

I got him  up to 30 and then this is what happened.

"X-man, what number comes after 30?"

"MONDAY!"

"What day comes after Monday?"

"MY BIRTHDAY! Happy Birth-a-d-day to Xander..."

See where this went?

This Little Light of X-man's

Last night as we drove home, X-man fell asleep at 8 p.m. in the car. As such, MacTroll and I let the dog out, fed the cats dinner, dimmed all the lights and then I got an overnight diaper ready while MacTroll carried X-man to his room. 

He slept all the way upstairs. He slept through the diaper change. He slept through me putting some PJ bottoms on him. We kissed him goodnight and then we went to our room.

It was 8:15 p.m. We watched some TV and then we went to bed. Around 3 a.m., X-man's witching hour, he woke up. He ran into our room, and MacTroll moved over and let him climb into bed. And then at 4 a.m., our cat knocked over MacTroll's water glass on his night stand. Computers and phones were far away, so it was no big deal. But it woke me up with a start, which woke X-man up, which woke MacTroll up, so he could clean up the mess.

Then I realized that X-man's diaper was leaking a bit. So I went to go get him a new one. The hall light was on. When I opened his bedroom door, it was like walking into daytime. Every light in his room was on. Before he came to our room he ran around turning on all the lights.

And he does this all the time, even in the day time. He does it at other people's houses too. More lights, more lights... 

He must have some kind of investment in the electric company.

Mixed Emotions

As anyone who has had a conversation with me in the last year knows, I'm interested in taking some classwork in early education and becoming a pre-school teacher at some point down the road. I love kids. I have always loved kids. And most kids respond positively to me. I wear Elmo shirts. I'm spontaneous. I plan fun outings, but I'm structured and I don't take lip.

Today, I took the CARE group to a local candy shop for a tour I had planned three weeks ago. When I made the reservation I was really clear that the kids were young (ages 2-5 for the most part). I followed their rules for limiting the group to 15, and we all arrived pretty much on time. 

The woman giving the tour let us know that she used to be a teacher. She seemed very interested/surprised that all of us with toddlers were mostly in our thirties. I think she was trying to make some kind of comment about how mothers with kids our age were usually younger... Anway, MacTroll swears she probably did older grades, but she didn't seem to get that toddlers don't care about history. She was openly frustrated with them. 

What they want to hear is that she's the modern day candy woman. They want to see the big jars of cherries and the cool dipping of the chocolate. They'd want to see her drizzle chocolate over pretzels and then pass them out to the kids. They'd be thrilled with the giant bowls and the huge mixers... lots of things they could see without having to deal with any cooking or dangerous kitchen implements.

But there didn't seem to be any prep for that. And I could tell, in comparison to our other awesome trips to the bakery or the grocery store or the pizza kitchen that parents were disappointed. I know it wasn't my fault. But I felt responsible... like I'd dragged everyone with their small children to a town 20 miles away for something less than stellar. Even though my family enjoys going down there for lunch and gummi bears and almond bark on occasion. I was disappointed.

I guess, there are people who are good with little kids and there are others that don't understand them at all. But I knew in the first 30 seconds that the woman started talking that I probably could have done a more age-appropriate job even though I didn't work there. 

This has happened before: Our trip to the Champaign Police Department was similarly not a great fit... when it would have been really easy to adjust for smaller kids. I mean, hello, police cars, police motorcycles, McGruff!

The guilt for the trip faded away though over two martinis with MacTroll and some Tapas at Radio Maria for MacTroll's 33rd Birthday dinner (his birthday is the 27th when he's away at a conference), while X-man got to eat dinner and play with the Quigs fam and the Freak family. Adult-only dinner was really awesome. And we appreciated it greatly. Especially when X-man pretty  much fell asleep on the 8-block drive from Quigs house to ours.

Personal growth

X-man went out into the garage today, got on his Thomas tricycle and biked down the sidewalk for the first time.

 We made such a big deal out of it that he immediately stopped and started treating it like a push car rather than a bike. Serves us right.

Oh, and in the last week, I've gone from being Mama to being Mommy -- full time.

Day Out with Thomas

Last spring, I was cruising the internet for items to add to the CARE calendar. On the HIT Entertainment website (home of Bob the Builder, Fraggle Rock, Thomas the Tank Engine and more), I found out that Thomas has his own special summer tour called, "A Day Out with Thomas." 

X-man loves trains, and although his every day obsession with Thomas might have waned, his love for all things that go has not. So, I tried not to wince too hard when I paid $21 a ticket for the three of us and my father (X-man's usual train fix provider) to go see Thomas on August 16th at the Illinois Rail Museum in Union, IL (Between Marengo and Huntley in what I lovingly and laughingly refer to as the new NW Chicago suburbs).

We went on Saturday, and boy was I glad that we did. After three weeks of X-man being driven around to some pretty untoddler friendly places, "A Day Out with Thomas" was perfect. It was low key, easy, and if you go there early enough, it wasn't even that crowded. The weather was perfect and some of the highlights included: Riding in a train car pulled by a life-size Thomas the Tank Engine; bouncing in a bounce house; playing on a kid-powered rail car; sucking back snow cones, playing in a giant sandpile, building at the Duplo Imagination Station, meeting the local fire department firefighters and a sitting in their truck; riding and walking through many, many, many various trolleys and trains, enjoying the shade, listening to live music, watching a magic show and more.

We were there from 9:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. and I gotta tell you,  my blood pressure was low. It was crowded, but not so bad because we found a shady table to have snack at. And it was great just to watch X-man smile at every new thing he got to do -- as a big boy. It was worth every penny of admission.

Quality control needed

We had a big day today full of more and more family. This time it was MacTroll's side. X-man didn't get a nap. He'd never sleep in a strange place, so trying to find somewhere for him to go down at my in-laws was out of the question. Instead, he fell asleep on the way from their house to the swimming outing. 

We went to a swim club called Wedgewood in Peoria. It's an older pool similar to Crystal Lake in Urbana but not as well kept. And it wasn't entirely welcoming to kids X-man's size. 

There were signs in the bathroom requiring tight plastic pants for the untrained potty users. We didn't have any, so I just kind of skidded by with a swim diaper under his trunks and hoped no one would notice. Then there was a second sign that banished all non-potty trained people to the baby pool. I know why they do this. I do. It's because if there's a poopy incident they just close the baby pool and not the big pool, but it still bummed me out. Not that X-man cared. He had a grand time being kind of snotty about sharing toys with the other toddlers. And his cousins were really awesome about hanging out with him. I think it might have had a lot to do with the main pool being so cold. :-)

Anyway, we had to drop MacTroll off at the airport and then I drove X-man back home. He ended up falling asleep immediately departing the airport and he slept the whole hour and a half home. The problem with this is that now he's having a lot of trouble going to bed.

He was being so rough and wouldn't stop. So I started to flip out. I told him that I had had enough of him and that he needed to stay in his room because Mama was going to bed and would not lie with him. He cried and cried and chased me into my room trying to get me to lie with him. I carried him back to bed, got kicked for it, and said goodnight. 

But this -- this shit's gotta stop, and at this point me walking away, seems to be the only thing he understands as a real consequence to his behavior. 

Update: He's completely asleep in his big boy bed, but I feel uber shitty.

Running on Empty

It is 2-something-o'clock in the a.m. right now. I've just spent four hours staring at the Internet avoiding using my brain. Sure, there were some word games on Facebook in there. Sure, I read the newspaper... but I mean, it was avoidance. I didn't want to read about political polls or shootings in town. 

But mostly what I didn't want to do was read other people's blogs and find out how fascinating and wonderful their lives are, when mine currently seems very -- stand still-ish.

My friends in town use our blogs to catch up. It's kind of funny for a group of women who see each other more often than any of us usually see our spouses. 

Libbygirl had her baby on July 31. Lightning McColin's little brother is a spitting image of him. He eats and sleeps well. It was sweet to meet him and hold him this week. 

But it also made me think a lot about the last 2.5 years. Half of me wanted to get a little ribbon for just surviving. The other half mourned a bit because I became very conscious that I was crossing a line I never wanted to cross when I became a mother.

That is to say, I never wanted to become a bitter mom. The one with much older children that stands next to you forewarning you of all the ways your sweet infant baby will one day hate you. The one that tells you how outside of work and motherhood she doesn't have a life. That by the time she gets it back, she'll be old and gray and her unappreciative children will never call her. 

When I had a newborn, I found a lot of solace in other newborn moms. We had the same wide-eyed deer caught in headlight looks. We hadn't slept. We hadn't showered. We hadn't eaten. Our babies couldn't turn over. They had no teeth. And you could spend hours, days, weeks just staring at your kid. 

Then as my baby began to really move and interact with is world, I was fascinated by his exploration. Pushing buttons on the dishwasher was a huge achievement. He used a fork. He opened a door. He built with Mega Blocks. He pulled a string toy across the floor. 

Then he got to 18 months and the molars starting coming in. We're just now finishing with the last of his teeth, and as they came in and the speech started really flowing -- my child explored and punished others (mostly me) through biting. 

Now I realize my son will be 2.5 in September. He's no longer a baby. Besides the diapers, any infant aspect of him has disappeared. He's his own little man. He hugs and jumps and skips. He doesn't want to share his toys. His mood swings challenge me in every way. But for the first time, I find myself being angry with my child when we have bad days, when his behavior is out of hand. 

I never had that anger before. Until he was 2, he could do anything and I had this endless patience with him. That was before he decided I was the mortal enemy when I did things like force him to stay out of the street or put away a toy he threw or not allow him to have ice cream for breakfast. And I know I'm being a good mom by doing all those things. I know I'm being a better mom for sticking to my guns. 

But it feels like there's this huge separation there now. Like I've staked my claim and he's staked his, and we'll never get back to where we were. 

I see that kind of separation in a lot of families. There's this giant gap that exists. And it's not that they don't care, but it's just that there's so much shit in the gap that it's hard to ever really find a common ground that's strong enough to start all over again. It's a weird crazy tangle.

All I know, is that I don't want it to happen to X-man and I. I wonder if we've been provided enough of a map of what to do -- by learning what not to do or by learning what's not normal -- at any stage or age of a child's life. 

For example: You don't tell people that when you found out that you were pregnant you wanted to walk in front of a bus, because your kid will somehow be told that some day and boy, isn't that a great therapy conversation? 

You don't have your 12-year-old sit down next to you and tell the child if they weren't around you'd kill yourself, again, more therapy fodder.  

You don't just show up for honor society and plays and other public events where people "see" you "parenting" and yet in reality you're completely disconnected from your kids' lives to the point where they feel they look after themselves. 

You don't insult your kids' career choices. 

You don't say bad things about the people they date or marry. 

You don't criticize their parenting. 

You don't tell them bad crap about the other parent. 

You don't talk about sex as being dirty. 

You don't shame them. 

You don't guilt them. 

You don't neglect them. 

You don't make up some kind of alternate reality where you tell them things in their lives didn't happen because you're happier denying any proof that your kid endured any pain on your watch. 

You don't criticize your kids' weight. 

You don't get to get angry with your kids for thinking for themselves, even if they choose to think differently from you. 

You don't force feed religion to someone who is reluctant.

These kinds of lessons go on and on...

I know we're going to continue to make mistakes, lots and lots and lots of them. The big thing I've learned from becoming a parent is that you do your best. It's all you can do. It's all any parent can do, even parents that do the things mentioned above.

But then again, there's Yoda telling me how it is when my best isn't good enough no matter how hard I work, no matter how many bruises I have, or how much my son, after he hits me, hugs and kisses me to try to make things better. 

I get frustrated with his natural, 2-year-old ways. I get angry with him when he hurts others. 

It still has me up at now 3-something-o'clock at night. 

Fear.

I'm going to go sleep with my child and hug his Bob the Builder. And tomorrow, while the gap is still small enough... I'm going to start shoveling some of that crap out of there. And I'm going to start building the world's biggest, strongest cantilever. Not so much to smother, but enough to keep my eye on things and hope that I can do a better job.

Just Plain Tired

I'm not feeling well today at all. I'm supposed to go to my friend Julie's wedding in Decatur at 2 p.m., but everything aches and I can hardly keep my eyes open. 

I think I may run to the library (it's the last day of the reading program at Tolono Library), so I can turn in Xander's card and get his two free ice cream cone coupons. 

They really need to give away something more tangible to the younger kids. 2 year olds don't understand the power of a coupon. They just stand there bewildered thinking, "What's this purple piece of paper for? And why are they acting excited about it?"

He'd probably be more excited over a pencil or a sticker. 

But later on, we have a CARE meet up at the DQ in Savoy so we can use the coupons. There is a method to my madness.

Either way, it requires me to get dressed, which at this point is a huge undertaking.