Today was rather uneventful...or at least nothing stands out as super-exciting or cute. So I started thinking about what I could possibly write about - since I told myself I WILL write Monday through Thursday.
There have been several occasions since I started writing that I wish I had made my blog private...but I have mixed feelings on this. Part of the reason for the blog is to share Brent's funny antics. However, I would also like to vent and know that I can say things/share stories/give my opinion without worrying that those who know me may be upset, offended, or judge me. I think I will still sensor a little, but I guess I'll just jump right in (insert reader discretion here)...
Lately I've been wondering at what age you stop being "naked" around your child. Right now, there is no option. I can't lock the door when I need a shower. If I think I have escaped for two minutes to use the bathroom, I am found. Yesterday, I was trying to get out of the shower and Brent leaned on the door with all his strength to try and keep me in. The only reason I was able to get out was because he was laughing so hard he couldn't stand up. (He is just like his father!!!!) No, I don't seen an end to this "nakedness" anytime soon.
I will never, ever, forget the day Brent walked in on me just finishing the job of, ahem, replacing a tampon. The look on his face was total shock, confusion, and horror...in fact, probably a lot like what a grown man would look like as well. "Mama, owie?!" he asked, his voice raising an octave with each syllable. "Uhhh...yep, Mama's got an owie and that's a special band-aid!" He turned around and left it at that. Thank God. Except now, when he walks in and I am mid-pee, he purposely checks for my "special band-aid" and if it is not present proclaims, "Yay! Mama, no owies!" I am really dreading taking this kid out in public when he starts talking so other people understand him...
On another note, I have over 400 views, holy cow! Maybe I should look into that "get paid when someone goes to your blog" gig...
Friday, January 27, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
"Owf, NO!!"
Today was another great day. We went to Toys R Us and Brent walked through
the entire store by my side. I only had to ask him to put something
back twice - and he actually did...without throwing a tantrum! Another
good day..."three" is still being good to me!!
Matt and I always joked that Brent's first words would be "no, Duke." Luckily, they weren't, but he has definitely made up for it. The poor dog hears it so much between the three of us I don't think he has any self-esteem left. Brent doesn't exactly say "no, Duke" but he calls him "owf" (it started out oof like woof, but somehow morphed into OWf.)
So, this morning, I fed Brent breakfast...he was adamant about sitting on the couch and not at the table, so I told him no toast or cereal. He chose pancakes (the mini frozen kind) except he prefers to eat them frozen...and plain. Stop judging. They don't get any healthier when I throw them in the microwave for 30 seconds and add syrup! Then I fed the dog. While I was in the kitchen, I noticed Brent was wandering aimlessly in the living room and it immediately occurred to me he was looking for his pancakes. I had just fed the dog.
Brent is going through a phase where he likes to watch the dog eat...and sometimes eat like the dog. "Brent, did you put your pancakes by Duke's food?" His facial expression was that of recollection and he took off running. From my bedroom I hear in a voice full of devastation, "OWF, NOOOOOO!!!!!" as I go racing to the room, the dog comes trotting out, half a frozen pancake hanging from his mouth. The kid is right behind him, ready to pounce and retrieve what's left. "Brent, did Duke eat your pancake?" I asked. "Yes! NO OWF! My 'cake!" It was like separating a fight. I had to hold Brent back. He was ready to let the dog have it. I explained that he was the one that left them on the floor, and if it's on the floor, it belongs to the dog. Brent stuck out his bottom lip and turned from me, heartbroken to have lost a pancake. As he walked by the dog, he pointed his finger and gave one more "NO OWF" to make sure the dog knew just how upset he was. The dog looked at me to make sure I wasn't going to punish him then was pleased he got away with a pancake.
When I shared this story with a friend today, she told me I should have given Brent another pancake. I disagree. It's only one pancake, he won't starve, and by providing another I lose the opportunity for a life lesson - a teachable moment - a consequence. Next time he might remember food does not belong on the floor. As a mother, it saves me the breath of having to repeat, "don't leave your food on the floor." I am not having to enforce it - he's learning from his actions! Mama won't always be there to make things better, nor do I need to be.
Matt and I always joked that Brent's first words would be "no, Duke." Luckily, they weren't, but he has definitely made up for it. The poor dog hears it so much between the three of us I don't think he has any self-esteem left. Brent doesn't exactly say "no, Duke" but he calls him "owf" (it started out oof like woof, but somehow morphed into OWf.)
So, this morning, I fed Brent breakfast...he was adamant about sitting on the couch and not at the table, so I told him no toast or cereal. He chose pancakes (the mini frozen kind) except he prefers to eat them frozen...and plain. Stop judging. They don't get any healthier when I throw them in the microwave for 30 seconds and add syrup! Then I fed the dog. While I was in the kitchen, I noticed Brent was wandering aimlessly in the living room and it immediately occurred to me he was looking for his pancakes. I had just fed the dog.
Brent is going through a phase where he likes to watch the dog eat...and sometimes eat like the dog. "Brent, did you put your pancakes by Duke's food?" His facial expression was that of recollection and he took off running. From my bedroom I hear in a voice full of devastation, "OWF, NOOOOOO!!!!!" as I go racing to the room, the dog comes trotting out, half a frozen pancake hanging from his mouth. The kid is right behind him, ready to pounce and retrieve what's left. "Brent, did Duke eat your pancake?" I asked. "Yes! NO OWF! My 'cake!" It was like separating a fight. I had to hold Brent back. He was ready to let the dog have it. I explained that he was the one that left them on the floor, and if it's on the floor, it belongs to the dog. Brent stuck out his bottom lip and turned from me, heartbroken to have lost a pancake. As he walked by the dog, he pointed his finger and gave one more "NO OWF" to make sure the dog knew just how upset he was. The dog looked at me to make sure I wasn't going to punish him then was pleased he got away with a pancake.
When I shared this story with a friend today, she told me I should have given Brent another pancake. I disagree. It's only one pancake, he won't starve, and by providing another I lose the opportunity for a life lesson - a teachable moment - a consequence. Next time he might remember food does not belong on the floor. As a mother, it saves me the breath of having to repeat, "don't leave your food on the floor." I am not having to enforce it - he's learning from his actions! Mama won't always be there to make things better, nor do I need to be.
No Lies Here!
Today Brent was fabulous, really! I am truly enjoying this reflection of my days with him because it does seem like I am having more good times than bad...it didn't always feel like that before! Maybe we're just going through a good streak, or maybe "three" is still being good to me...
Tonight, Matt was out late for a work meeting. At precisely the moment Brent's head hit the pillow, the doorbell rang. The dog started barking, the kid jumped out of bed, running for the door, screaming. Who. in. the. heck. was. ringing. my. doorbell? Everyone knows Brent goes to bed at 8. Wth.
I grabbed my phone, which proceeded to lock up, then dial Matt. I considered not answering the door - sure, the lights were on, but the tv was off. Oh, wait, the screaming child. Who could possibly be at my door this time of night? In the past few months, the neighboring areas have been hit by people breaking into cars- then stories of them ringing the doorbell and going to the backdoor if no one answered. This is beyond terrifying for anyone - especially someone that stays home all day with a little one!
The doorbell rang three more times. I answered the door. It was the "kid" from across the street. I say kid, but he's 18 and lives with his parents. He tells me he's locked out of his house and needs to use my phone. At this point, I've only told Matt to "hold on" so if someone was planning on killing me, he'd at least hear me scream. I tell him I'll call him back and hand the "kid" my phone. Meanwhile, Brent and the dog are doing a crazy barking/screaming/giggling/running in circles kind of dance. I tell Brent, "Go get your Dad so he can get Duke." My motive was to let the "kid" think I wasn't there alone. My child does not usually speak much. Would you believe he stopped, looked at me, put his hands out like "where is it?" and proceeded to loudly announce (in case my lack of memory also effected my hearing?), "Mama, Yaya NO HOUSE!" (Mama, Dada not at house!) Yeah, okay, Brent, thanks for nothing. Since I didn't respond in a way he apparently found pleasing, he proceeded to look at me with a stern expression and repeat, "Mama, Yaya, nooooo hoooouuuusssse." Okay, Brent, thanks. He must have been truly confused as to why I believed Dada was in the house because he continued to repeat this and look at me with the deepest of concern.
The "kid" returned my phone. I shut the door, relieved. I bent down and explained to Brent that when someone rings the doorbell at night and Dad isn't home, it frightens me and I want whoever is there to think Dada is home. He placed his hand on my arm, leaned forward, looked deep into my eyes and slowly, and as carefully as he could, enunciated, "Mama, Yaya no HOUSE. Noooo." He added a head shake for emphasis. Then he turned and walked away from me with, "I 'iss Yaya" (I miss Dada). He has it so rough - having to spend every day with his delirious mother. But seriously, where did he learn to talk to someone like they're stupid?
Lesson: Remember this moment. "Lying" is going to bite me in the ass again someday when he's listening.
Tonight, Matt was out late for a work meeting. At precisely the moment Brent's head hit the pillow, the doorbell rang. The dog started barking, the kid jumped out of bed, running for the door, screaming. Who. in. the. heck. was. ringing. my. doorbell? Everyone knows Brent goes to bed at 8. Wth.
I grabbed my phone, which proceeded to lock up, then dial Matt. I considered not answering the door - sure, the lights were on, but the tv was off. Oh, wait, the screaming child. Who could possibly be at my door this time of night? In the past few months, the neighboring areas have been hit by people breaking into cars- then stories of them ringing the doorbell and going to the backdoor if no one answered. This is beyond terrifying for anyone - especially someone that stays home all day with a little one!
The doorbell rang three more times. I answered the door. It was the "kid" from across the street. I say kid, but he's 18 and lives with his parents. He tells me he's locked out of his house and needs to use my phone. At this point, I've only told Matt to "hold on" so if someone was planning on killing me, he'd at least hear me scream. I tell him I'll call him back and hand the "kid" my phone. Meanwhile, Brent and the dog are doing a crazy barking/screaming/giggling/running in circles kind of dance. I tell Brent, "Go get your Dad so he can get Duke." My motive was to let the "kid" think I wasn't there alone. My child does not usually speak much. Would you believe he stopped, looked at me, put his hands out like "where is it?" and proceeded to loudly announce (in case my lack of memory also effected my hearing?), "Mama, Yaya NO HOUSE!" (Mama, Dada not at house!) Yeah, okay, Brent, thanks for nothing. Since I didn't respond in a way he apparently found pleasing, he proceeded to look at me with a stern expression and repeat, "Mama, Yaya, nooooo hoooouuuusssse." Okay, Brent, thanks. He must have been truly confused as to why I believed Dada was in the house because he continued to repeat this and look at me with the deepest of concern.
The "kid" returned my phone. I shut the door, relieved. I bent down and explained to Brent that when someone rings the doorbell at night and Dad isn't home, it frightens me and I want whoever is there to think Dada is home. He placed his hand on my arm, leaned forward, looked deep into my eyes and slowly, and as carefully as he could, enunciated, "Mama, Yaya no HOUSE. Noooo." He added a head shake for emphasis. Then he turned and walked away from me with, "I 'iss Yaya" (I miss Dada). He has it so rough - having to spend every day with his delirious mother. But seriously, where did he learn to talk to someone like they're stupid?
Lesson: Remember this moment. "Lying" is going to bite me in the ass again someday when he's listening.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Potty Chronicles
Today Brent had his first speech appointment at the public school. It went well and he came out smiling. Relief is the only word I can think of, but that is truly an understatement. His teacher said we would have homework next week - a list of words to practice. Great. There is no way this will possibly go well. The kid is less than cooperative.
Speaking of less than cooperative, someone needs to open a potty training boot camp. Other than me. It is a gold mine waiting to happen! I apologize profusely to the friends that I offered potty training advice to BC (before child). Potty training children at school is SO MUCH DIFFERENT than trying to potty train one at home. It's easier at school, really...because they are ALL doing it! Mine could care less. I've tried all my tricks. Nothing works. Stickers, M&Ms, big boy underwear, diapers, pull-ups, toys, other bribes, going every 30 minutes to an hour, potty dances, reading books, singing songs, watching videos, running the water, decorating the bathroom, etc. Nothing works. The only thing I have left is to let him run around naked. I have heard this works. I am still debating whether it is worth it. I really think diapers aren't that expensive...but in all honesty, if someone will take my child now and potty train him within a month, I would pay hundreds of dollars. Yes, seriously. Have you tried to potty train lately? We started so long ago I can't even remember when we started. I began when the books say to - he started showing interest. He learned quickly the purpose of sitting on the potty. He pees every time he sits! In fact, he's so good at it, he can pee, stop, then two minutes later, pee again to try and convince me he deserves more candy and another sticker! The problem is, he is convinced he has "better things to do" and finds the convenience of peeing on himself better than sitting on the potty for two minutes. I have tried to convince him it takes me longer to change his diaper, but really, he just doesn't care. Did I mention hundreds of dollars? Anyone?
Speaking of less than cooperative, someone needs to open a potty training boot camp. Other than me. It is a gold mine waiting to happen! I apologize profusely to the friends that I offered potty training advice to BC (before child). Potty training children at school is SO MUCH DIFFERENT than trying to potty train one at home. It's easier at school, really...because they are ALL doing it! Mine could care less. I've tried all my tricks. Nothing works. Stickers, M&Ms, big boy underwear, diapers, pull-ups, toys, other bribes, going every 30 minutes to an hour, potty dances, reading books, singing songs, watching videos, running the water, decorating the bathroom, etc. Nothing works. The only thing I have left is to let him run around naked. I have heard this works. I am still debating whether it is worth it. I really think diapers aren't that expensive...but in all honesty, if someone will take my child now and potty train him within a month, I would pay hundreds of dollars. Yes, seriously. Have you tried to potty train lately? We started so long ago I can't even remember when we started. I began when the books say to - he started showing interest. He learned quickly the purpose of sitting on the potty. He pees every time he sits! In fact, he's so good at it, he can pee, stop, then two minutes later, pee again to try and convince me he deserves more candy and another sticker! The problem is, he is convinced he has "better things to do" and finds the convenience of peeing on himself better than sitting on the potty for two minutes. I have tried to convince him it takes me longer to change his diaper, but really, he just doesn't care. Did I mention hundreds of dollars? Anyone?
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Until Next Year
The "birthday week" is officially over. I can happily rest my butt knowing that every ounce of energy was worth it - my son thoroughly enjoyed it...even if it isn't a memory he remembers down the road. I enjoyed this party a lot more than the others, too. I am not sure if it's because I didn't put as much prep into it or if it was because Brent truly had fun and he got it. He knew the party was for him and it was obvious he really enjoyed himself. It is a "successful" parenting day!
As a Mom, it is hard not to ask yourself, "Am I doing this right? Should I do this differently?" The argument "nature versus nurture" is often discussed in education - and sometimes parenting. It is based on the belief by philosopher, John Locke, that children are born with a "tabula rasa," or "blank slate," and from that moment on are molded into the being they become by everything that occurs around them. However, many argue that nature (genetics, etc.) has a lot to do with it as well. I don't believe it is a "versus" - I feel that they are both equally important and work together. I know that without a doubt, I look at my son each day and see a combination of his father, myself, other family members, and things I have no idea where he gets them. Television, radio, school, people in public, his own mind, etc. His little body holds such a huge personality, and he never ceases to amaze and surprise me.
Today, a friend shared another blog entry that I really enjoyed. As a "mother of one" who often looks at those with multiple children and says, "I don't know how you do it! I can hardly handle one!" I understand this writer. I find relief in her words: "Dear mother, don’t worry about enjoying your life. Your life is hard; your life will be hard. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong—it means you’re doing it right." I hope she's right! Read: To the Mother with Only One Child
As a Mom, it is hard not to ask yourself, "Am I doing this right? Should I do this differently?" The argument "nature versus nurture" is often discussed in education - and sometimes parenting. It is based on the belief by philosopher, John Locke, that children are born with a "tabula rasa," or "blank slate," and from that moment on are molded into the being they become by everything that occurs around them. However, many argue that nature (genetics, etc.) has a lot to do with it as well. I don't believe it is a "versus" - I feel that they are both equally important and work together. I know that without a doubt, I look at my son each day and see a combination of his father, myself, other family members, and things I have no idea where he gets them. Television, radio, school, people in public, his own mind, etc. His little body holds such a huge personality, and he never ceases to amaze and surprise me.
Today, a friend shared another blog entry that I really enjoyed. As a "mother of one" who often looks at those with multiple children and says, "I don't know how you do it! I can hardly handle one!" I understand this writer. I find relief in her words: "Dear mother, don’t worry about enjoying your life. Your life is hard; your life will be hard. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong—it means you’re doing it right." I hope she's right! Read: To the Mother with Only One Child
Thursday, January 19, 2012
McD's FRIES!!
Today was interesting from the moment I woke up. I barely rolled out of bed, begging my husband to take the bean to "school." He couldn't, he had a work meeting. Yeah, yeah, I have tons of those (insert eye roll here). I proceeded to spend twenty minutes debating whether I wanted to stay in bed and deal with whatever my toddler would dole out on me, or take the 20 minutes of misery to get him to school. Yep, off to school we go! I jumped in the shower as I overhead my husband telling Brent, "Mama doesn't feel well today, so you need to be nice, behave, and take care of yourself." When I got out of the bathroom, my son was sitting at the table eating Cheez-its from the box. Oh. my. gosh. I am not judging those of you that do this in your household, but I do not, do not, do not get things out of a bag with hands. We have bowls. By inserting your hands into a full box/bag of food, you contaminate everything else in the container! Blech! Just my opinion. I proceeded to text my husband and he made the point that at least he was at the table. True that. I couldn't get mad at the boy, he was doing exactly what Dad had told him - taking care of himself. I figured it was already a lost cause and left him alone. Would you believe he even wiped off his hands and mouth when he was done? Proud Mommy moment, well, minus the Cheez-its for breakfast part! Maybe I should tell him I am sick more often...
Tonight, since the hubby and I still weren't feeling well, we headed to Sonic. Milk shakes make sore throats feel so much better! When we left the house, Brent shared his protest so we asked if he wanted french fries - one of his favorite gourmet foods. He was happy to hear this and settled in for the ride...until we passed the unmistakeable Golden Arches of McDonald's. "No, no, noooooo... (fr)ies!!!! M(c)D's (fr)ies!!!" he screamed from the backseat while pointing erratically at the sign. Our immediate laughter only made him angrier. Once we were able to catch our breath, we explained we were getting fries from Sonic and they were just as good. "Nooooo!" he wailed. Can't really argue with the kid, McD's does have the best french fries!
I am just amused that:
Tonight, since the hubby and I still weren't feeling well, we headed to Sonic. Milk shakes make sore throats feel so much better! When we left the house, Brent shared his protest so we asked if he wanted french fries - one of his favorite gourmet foods. He was happy to hear this and settled in for the ride...until we passed the unmistakeable Golden Arches of McDonald's. "No, no, noooooo... (fr)ies!!!! M(c)D's (fr)ies!!!" he screamed from the backseat while pointing erratically at the sign. Our immediate laughter only made him angrier. Once we were able to catch our breath, we explained we were getting fries from Sonic and they were just as good. "Nooooo!" he wailed. Can't really argue with the kid, McD's does have the best french fries!
I am just amused that:
- He recognizes the Golden Arches (does that mean we go too much?)
- Lately, my non-talker sure is spitting out some really good sentences when he is upset!
- He argued that McD's has better french fries than Sonic.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Happy B'day, Brent!
Today Brent turns three. He let everyone know, too. "No 'oo. 'ree!" ("No, two. Three!) He is definitely excited. He enjoyed opening presents and is always fun to watch because he seems to really appreciate everything - no matter what it is. I hope that characteristic will always remain with him. That no matter how blessed he is, he is thankful for every bit of it.
We headed to Chuck E Cheese for lunch, where he enjoyed "being a kid" and then it was home for nap. I took a nap, too, as I was feeling unusually exhausted. Would you believe my family has shared the household plague with me? Great. I have a birthday party to finish planning for Saturday, groceries to buy, and all I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. Did I mention raising a three-year old? Stay at home Moms really get screwed in this department - probably more so than anything else. No sick days. You and the kid(s) can be sick as everything and you are usually left to fend for yourself.
I felt so badly - we didn't go out for dinner, and we didn't even sing Happy Birthday (though it was his choice not to eat a cupcake). I realize this will all be done again on Saturday and he won't even remember (and probably doesn't even realize) but Mom Guilt is a very strong thing, over the silliest things, usually.
Happy Birthday, Brent! Mama loves you. Today I will share this blog...may it always remind me to cherish every moment with you and create happy memories that you, too, will want to instill in your own child(ren).
We headed to Chuck E Cheese for lunch, where he enjoyed "being a kid" and then it was home for nap. I took a nap, too, as I was feeling unusually exhausted. Would you believe my family has shared the household plague with me? Great. I have a birthday party to finish planning for Saturday, groceries to buy, and all I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. Did I mention raising a three-year old? Stay at home Moms really get screwed in this department - probably more so than anything else. No sick days. You and the kid(s) can be sick as everything and you are usually left to fend for yourself.
I felt so badly - we didn't go out for dinner, and we didn't even sing Happy Birthday (though it was his choice not to eat a cupcake). I realize this will all be done again on Saturday and he won't even remember (and probably doesn't even realize) but Mom Guilt is a very strong thing, over the silliest things, usually.
Happy Birthday, Brent! Mama loves you. Today I will share this blog...may it always remind me to cherish every moment with you and create happy memories that you, too, will want to instill in your own child(ren).
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
"My Cakes, Yeah!"
My baby is turning three tomorrow. I can't believe it. The time has flown by, yet it feels like ages ago that I held that little, calm bundle in my arms. Having him sick reminds me that I won't get to hold him like this much longer. He is already so long!
Thankfully, he was feeling better today and was excited to head to "school" with cupcakes I had made for his class. "My (c)akes, yeah!" he exclaimed as I loaded them into the car. I explained to him all the way there that they were his cakes, but he would be sharing them with his friends at school. "My (c)akes, yes! (Th)ree!" he said enthusiastically while nodding his head, showing his understanding that they were his cakes because he is turning three...at least, that's how I interpreted it.
When he got home from school, his Dad was sick in our bedroom - something that very, very rarely happens. To my surprise, he did not go running in, but insisted the dog stay out and didn't even go in to see his Dad until after dinner. He played well and entertained himself literally all day long so I could clean and Dad could rest. It amazes me how some days are so, so, so simple and other days it is like every little thing is a battle. When I thanked him at bedtime for being such a good boy, he reminded me he is going to be three. Please God, let this be what "3" is like everyday! Yes, please! (Just let me pretend until morning, okay?)
Other than the fact that he was on his best behavior today, I love the little moments when he randomly pulls on my heartstrings. Tonight, while I was cooking dinner, "Country Girl (Shake it for me)" by Luke Bryan came on the radio and he grabbed my hand, insisting I go into the living room. We occasionally get up and dance, but he has never encouraged me to dance with him. Did I mention the fact this is my favorite song? Love that boy and his almost 3-year old booty shakin' self!
Thankfully, he was feeling better today and was excited to head to "school" with cupcakes I had made for his class. "My (c)akes, yeah!" he exclaimed as I loaded them into the car. I explained to him all the way there that they were his cakes, but he would be sharing them with his friends at school. "My (c)akes, yes! (Th)ree!" he said enthusiastically while nodding his head, showing his understanding that they were his cakes because he is turning three...at least, that's how I interpreted it.
When he got home from school, his Dad was sick in our bedroom - something that very, very rarely happens. To my surprise, he did not go running in, but insisted the dog stay out and didn't even go in to see his Dad until after dinner. He played well and entertained himself literally all day long so I could clean and Dad could rest. It amazes me how some days are so, so, so simple and other days it is like every little thing is a battle. When I thanked him at bedtime for being such a good boy, he reminded me he is going to be three. Please God, let this be what "3" is like everyday! Yes, please! (Just let me pretend until morning, okay?)
Other than the fact that he was on his best behavior today, I love the little moments when he randomly pulls on my heartstrings. Tonight, while I was cooking dinner, "Country Girl (Shake it for me)" by Luke Bryan came on the radio and he grabbed my hand, insisting I go into the living room. We occasionally get up and dance, but he has never encouraged me to dance with him. Did I mention the fact this is my favorite song? Love that boy and his almost 3-year old booty shakin' self!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Ice Cream = Happy
Brent has been sick for three days now. I am pretty sure it started out as a cold, but I decided to take him to the doctor this morning because he hasn't been eating or sleeping - both of which he usually does a LOT more of when he's sick. Throw in the low-grade fever and colored mucus and I figured it was a sinus infection. The doctor didn't check for a sinus infection - but said he has an ear infection and the antibiotic will take care of all of it.
I don't often remember to count my blessings. I am thankful for the fact that this is only my son's second ear infection (his first one was 11 months ago) and he is going to be three in two days! As a child (and adult) that has chronic ear infections, I am so, so, so thankful that he doesn't seem to have the issues I do.
So, anyway, when I knew we were headed to the doctor this morning, I started prepping him. Telling him how he would stand on the scale, get his temperature taken, the doctor would look in his mouth, ears, and listen to his chest and back. Then I did it - I bribed him: "We'll get ice cream afterwards if you're a good boy!" (Ice cream is the only thing he has wanted to eat in two days...)
Saying that he was well-behaved at the doctor is an understatement...and was worth every penny of the dollar I spent at McDonald's for the mini sundae. In fact, I probably would have paid $10.
As a teacher, I really didn't like parents that bribed their children. What does it teach them? To expect something for doing something they should be doing anyway. I vowed every day that I dealt with a bribed child that I would never, ever, ever bribe my child. You really don't know anything until you have kids.
Bribery makes life SO much simpler. They are happy, you are happy, life is good. Somewhere down the road, I may come to regret this. I keep telling myself consistency is key. That really is true in all aspects of parenting. Had I promised him ice cream and he had not behaved at the doctor, I would have had to explain that he didn't earn the ice cream. Maybe when he isn't a toddler I will have the ability to say, "if you misbehave at the doctor, I will make your life miserable." For now, a tantrum-free, cooperative visit to the doctor is well-worth a bowl of ice cream.
I think I'll just tell myself that bribery is really "positive reinforcement"...
I don't often remember to count my blessings. I am thankful for the fact that this is only my son's second ear infection (his first one was 11 months ago) and he is going to be three in two days! As a child (and adult) that has chronic ear infections, I am so, so, so thankful that he doesn't seem to have the issues I do.
So, anyway, when I knew we were headed to the doctor this morning, I started prepping him. Telling him how he would stand on the scale, get his temperature taken, the doctor would look in his mouth, ears, and listen to his chest and back. Then I did it - I bribed him: "We'll get ice cream afterwards if you're a good boy!" (Ice cream is the only thing he has wanted to eat in two days...)
Saying that he was well-behaved at the doctor is an understatement...and was worth every penny of the dollar I spent at McDonald's for the mini sundae. In fact, I probably would have paid $10.
As a teacher, I really didn't like parents that bribed their children. What does it teach them? To expect something for doing something they should be doing anyway. I vowed every day that I dealt with a bribed child that I would never, ever, ever bribe my child. You really don't know anything until you have kids.
Bribery makes life SO much simpler. They are happy, you are happy, life is good. Somewhere down the road, I may come to regret this. I keep telling myself consistency is key. That really is true in all aspects of parenting. Had I promised him ice cream and he had not behaved at the doctor, I would have had to explain that he didn't earn the ice cream. Maybe when he isn't a toddler I will have the ability to say, "if you misbehave at the doctor, I will make your life miserable." For now, a tantrum-free, cooperative visit to the doctor is well-worth a bowl of ice cream.
I think I'll just tell myself that bribery is really "positive reinforcement"...
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Pajama Day
Today was pajama day at "school" (mom's day out). This was Brent's first taste of pajama day and I was almost sure he was going to be the only child at school in normal clothing. I had told my husband last night what pair of pajamas I wanted Brent to wear to school: the least worn, still fits in all the right places, cute Hugh Hefner style. However, this morning, when I started to get Brent dressed, I explained to him that it was pajama day so he would get to wear pajamas to school! (Insert enthusiastic yay! here).
Now, for those of you who don't know, Brent does not like change. In fact, that is an understatement. He has an expectation and opinion for everything that should, would, or could happen in his world. So, you can only imagine the ball of hysteria he crumpled into upon learning this news. Pajamas - to school? What was this insanity I was forcing upon him? He recovered fairly quickly and immediately began explaining to me why it was not sensible to wear pajamas to school: "no 'eep!" (no sleep) he wailed as he used his hands and head to make the sign for sleep. "No, no, sleep! You are just wearing pajamas to school because it is a fun, crazy day!" I said. The boy has a point, his entire life he has only worn pajamas to sleep. Why would that change now? I then decided to throw in the "big money" - I told him he could take his blanket.
His blanket has been his forever lovey. As a baby, I tried stuffed animal after stuffed animal and he had no interest in any of them. I had tried other blankets, he didn't care. Then, all of a sudden, this was the blanket he had to have. It went everywhere with him. Luckily, he wasn't as clingy as some children so I did have the ability to wash it weekly.
Anyway, once he got comfortable at "school," I had told him the blanket had to stay home. So I guess having the option to take it was a much more enticing offer to him than I had even imagined, because he yelled, "yay!" and ran to his drawer to choose his pajamas.
Did he choose the pair I wanted him to wear? No. But, the pair he chose were still new, and fit well. Choose your battles, right? So he got dressed in his pajamas, grabbed his blanket, and we were out the door for school.
We walked in and the first words his teacher says to him are, "Brent, good morning! You look like you are ready for a nap in those pajamas!" I am not exaggerating when I say everyone in the school...and possibly across the street heard him scream, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
I then explained to his teacher the discussion that had occurred at home. She told Brent she was just kidding and there would be no naps. So, the day went well.
I fear he will want to wear pajamas again tomorrow.
Now, for those of you who don't know, Brent does not like change. In fact, that is an understatement. He has an expectation and opinion for everything that should, would, or could happen in his world. So, you can only imagine the ball of hysteria he crumpled into upon learning this news. Pajamas - to school? What was this insanity I was forcing upon him? He recovered fairly quickly and immediately began explaining to me why it was not sensible to wear pajamas to school: "no 'eep!" (no sleep) he wailed as he used his hands and head to make the sign for sleep. "No, no, sleep! You are just wearing pajamas to school because it is a fun, crazy day!" I said. The boy has a point, his entire life he has only worn pajamas to sleep. Why would that change now? I then decided to throw in the "big money" - I told him he could take his blanket.
His blanket has been his forever lovey. As a baby, I tried stuffed animal after stuffed animal and he had no interest in any of them. I had tried other blankets, he didn't care. Then, all of a sudden, this was the blanket he had to have. It went everywhere with him. Luckily, he wasn't as clingy as some children so I did have the ability to wash it weekly.
Anyway, once he got comfortable at "school," I had told him the blanket had to stay home. So I guess having the option to take it was a much more enticing offer to him than I had even imagined, because he yelled, "yay!" and ran to his drawer to choose his pajamas.
Did he choose the pair I wanted him to wear? No. But, the pair he chose were still new, and fit well. Choose your battles, right? So he got dressed in his pajamas, grabbed his blanket, and we were out the door for school.
We walked in and the first words his teacher says to him are, "Brent, good morning! You look like you are ready for a nap in those pajamas!" I am not exaggerating when I say everyone in the school...and possibly across the street heard him scream, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
I then explained to his teacher the discussion that had occurred at home. She told Brent she was just kidding and there would be no naps. So, the day went well.
I fear he will want to wear pajamas again tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Rain, Rain Go Away
Yesterday and today Brent was easily frustrated more than usual. His train fell off the track, and he crumpled to the floor in a dramatic mess of cries and toddler-like curses at his "choo-choo." His fork fell off the plate and he laid his head on the table as if it were gone forever. You don't even want to hear about what happened when the dog refused to play with him! Something was wrong in his world and he was feeling defeated in almost every aspect. Finally, after a few moments of cuddling on the couch, I explained to him that it didn't help to behave that way, but he needed to tell Mama what was bothering him so I could help. He pouted and fidgeted for a moment and then proceeded to tell me in his quasi-speech/sign-language that the "ain up high go 'way now me go out-ide 'ay!" (Translation: "Rain up high go away now so I can go outside to play!") Did I mention it has been rainy and dreary for four days?!?
Let me also mention that a year ago my son's only words consisted of "more," "mama," "yaya" (dada), and "mo" (no). The fact that he came up with a sentence like that to try and express his frustrations still has me impressed. After that, I had to explain that I couldn't make the rain stop, but I definitely agreed with him that it would be nice if it did. He argued with me for a few minutes, then I told him tomorrow should be better. He gave me a big hug, then proceeded to get down on the floor and play cars. Wow, it is an amazing thing to have someone believe that you can do anything. It makes you want to be a better everything!
Let me also mention that a year ago my son's only words consisted of "more," "mama," "yaya" (dada), and "mo" (no). The fact that he came up with a sentence like that to try and express his frustrations still has me impressed. After that, I had to explain that I couldn't make the rain stop, but I definitely agreed with him that it would be nice if it did. He argued with me for a few minutes, then I told him tomorrow should be better. He gave me a big hug, then proceeded to get down on the floor and play cars. Wow, it is an amazing thing to have someone believe that you can do anything. It makes you want to be a better everything!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Everyday Play
As an Early Childhood Educator, the importance of play was drilled into my head in practically every class I had in college. It was easy to incorporate into my classroom - role playing, centers, exploring the world outside, etc. However, as a Mom, I am amazed at how often this critical component is pushed to the back of my brain. I need to clean the house, do laundry, run errands, cook dinner, pay the bills.....and all the while my little boy approaches me intermittently with "Play, Mama" while batting his long eyelashes and holding up a toy car. Too many times my response has been, "Mama can't play right now, baby, I'm busy."
Now, my son approaches me with, "Mama, play now, please?" I am not sure if it's the fact he has added the "now, please" or that I see that he has really changed and grown in such a short period of time. What am I thinking? Play is his world. How he learns, how he grows, and how I will teach him to be a good man. I make a conscious effort to play with my son for a period of time every day - with no distractions. No cell phone, no grocery list; just me and him. It can't be a coincidence that when I give him my undivided attention and then have to tell him "Mama can't play right now, baby" he seems to understand and entertains himself.
Now, my son approaches me with, "Mama, play now, please?" I am not sure if it's the fact he has added the "now, please" or that I see that he has really changed and grown in such a short period of time. What am I thinking? Play is his world. How he learns, how he grows, and how I will teach him to be a good man. I make a conscious effort to play with my son for a period of time every day - with no distractions. No cell phone, no grocery list; just me and him. It can't be a coincidence that when I give him my undivided attention and then have to tell him "Mama can't play right now, baby" he seems to understand and entertains himself.
The Beginning
When you first discover you are going to be a parent, advice starts rumbling in from every direction. (Enjoy them, they grow up so fast! - Be consistent! - Don't spoil the baby! - Breastfeed! - Don't stress yourself about breastfeeding, formula is just as good! - Give plenty of tummy time! - Let them cry it out. - Don't let a baby cry too long!) Well, you get the idea. The advice doesn't slow down once they are born either...except that's when you realize that you really do need advice, it just doesn't all work! As a new mom, I turned to anyone that would tell me what worked for them. I read mounds of books, I surfed the internet, and I tried dozens of methods before one was successful. Out of all of the advice I have ever received - I will never forget the most important of all. After I had asked a list of questions, my son's first pediatrician said, "You need to stop reading all of those books. Those authors may have advice- and it may or may not work for you, but they did not have your child. Only you can know what is best for your child. Trust your motherly instincts." Bless that man. Even after three years, it feels like almost every day holds a new challenge, and each time I feel I am struggling, I repeat those words. I feel a little stronger and remind myself of my goal: to raise a child who is independent, compassionate, confident, patriotic, gives Thanks to God, and has the desire to learn. I am starting this blog to attempt to document my son's funny antics, how I handle them, and the things he teaches me along the way.
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