Kiddle peed on the potty!

Yay Kiddle!

His friend LK, who is very proud of her big girl underwear, was over for a playdate this afternoon. Her potty training is going well, but she's still in the stage that you need to put her on the potty every half hour or so. This, of course, meant Kiddle had to sit on the potty too.

Now, sitting on the potty is nothing new. He loves to do it so he can flush the toilet. But today was the first time he's actually produced some pee while sitting there. Way to go! Hopefully it was a bit of a light bulb moment ... but I'm not holding my breath. We're still a lonnnggg way from potty training.

More Pingu?

No! No more Pingu!

It was a very odd day. Usually Kiddle is trying to prevent me from doing whatever I need to get done. ("Mama, mama! Sit, sit, sit!") Today was the opposite. I was trying to lure him into a variety of wholesome, non-televised activities -- crayons, cars, animals in his barn -- while he was demanding more episodes of Pingu. And by demanding, I mean sobbing hysterically every time I said, no, no more Pingu.

Of course, we're watching it through On Demand so there are only five episodes available. At 15 minutes a pop. And we watched every single one of them, more than once.

Thankfully, Mr. P was home this afternoon and took him off my hands for a couple of hours. And he's got preschool in the morning, so we just might survive another day.

Meep meep!

No more pacifier?

So I had this plan.

Throw away his pacifiers as they disintegrate, until they're all gone. Then no more pacifier. Simple, right?

Now that the moment is almost here I find myself waffling. He's always been an intensely oral kid -- he came out of the womb with his hands in his mouth -- and I went the pacifier route to avoid thumb sucking. He loves his pacifier and would still have it 24/7 if I let him. But, he's been quite cooperative about only using it for sleeping and even willingly leaves it in his room when we go downstairs in the morning.

I'm feeling conflicted though about taking it away from him so close to the baby's arrival. Is it better just to let him keep it until we've all adjusted to the new kid? Assuming the baby takes a pacifier, will Kiddle be intensely jealous and try to yank it out of the baby's mouth? Or will it be even worse to try to eliminate it a few months after the baby is around? ARGH! I'm not sure what to do.

I asked on my local moms' message board and of course got the wide range of answers I expected. Do it now. Don't do it now. Go cold turkey. Cut a little more off the pacifier each day until he doesn't want it anymore. Give them to the pacifier fairy for new babies. Focus on what a big boy he is now. Let him do a build-a-bear to replace the pacifier. The problem is I don't think he'll fall for the pacifier fairy, he isn't particularly interested in being a big boy, and he's never been that attached to any one thing for any length of time -- except his pacifier.

So I guess I have to trust my instincts (!!) and stick with the original plan. He's on his last silicone pacifier -- already completely shredded -- and I have one latex pacifier as a backup. He hates the latex, so I'll offer him that one after the silicone one is done and perhaps he'll just stop using it.

It won't be too traumatic, right?

Gulp.

It's REALLY all over now ...

He climbed over the gate to his room last night during our hour-and-a-half screaming, sobbing mama-please-rock-me-to-sleep battle. If I can't at least contain him when needed? Lord help me.

Edited to add: I finally realized he was not climbing over the gate, thank goodness. It's one of the tension-mounted gates and the bottom had come loose, which affected how the locking mechanism worked, which meant he could work the gate open. Easy to fix so now he's back to being trapped.

Do green bean fries at TGIFriday's count as a vegetable?

It's been almost exactly one year since Kiddle willingly ate a vegetable. Seriously.

He used to eat mixed vegetables by the handful, but that all came to an end during a visit to my parents last February. He projectile vomited his last meal (in the middle of the night, in the middle of my bed) which was -- you guessed it -- mixed veggies. And that was the last time he touched anything green. (Although I suppose I can't really blame the stomach virus entirely. It certainly didn't dampen his enthusiasm for blueberries -- the other half of that lovely nocturnal concoction.)

In all honesty, I'm a completely lazy cook, and I get really annoyed when I make (ok, assemble or warm up) something that doesn't get eaten. So I haven't particularly forced the issue. Yay multi-vitamins!

Imagine my surprise last night when I finally guilted myself into making some veggies for him ... and he willingly ate two spoonfuls! It's a new day!

I hope.

Can't we just start at three months?

So I had lunch in the city yesterday with one of my old co-workers who is now a SAHM with a five-month old little boy. He's at that great age where he's totally connected to the world around him -- but isn't mobile yet. He's just too, too adorable and reminded me once more that I'm dreading having a newborn again.

Now, don't get me wrong; I'm thrilled about this new kid. But I've never been a big newborn fan. I know some people say they're so cuddly and sweet and that they luuuvvv fresh, new little babies. But I mostly just see a gelatinous blob with no personality.

They're so much better when they hit three or four months, have a little structure to their bodies and can truly interact with you.

It's also a bit overwhelming to think about all the new baby paraphernalia and extreme dependence. As Kiddle has matured from a baby to a toddler and soon into a preschooler, I enjoy him more every day. And we've moved past so many things. Things that I'm about to revisit ... diaper bags, and heavy infant carriers, and strollers, and spit up, and super frequent feedings, and unfathomable crying.

Another thing I'm curious about is to see how quickly I bond with the new baby. With Kiddle, it took two months. Same for Mr. P. Until then we thought he was really cool and wanted to keep him, but neither of us were madly in love with him for a while. ("The first second I saw him, my heart exploded and I was instantly in love." Um, no.) We each had a similar experience with Kiddle at about two months where he smiled and locked eyes with us for what seemed like eons. That was the moment I fell completely in love. (Apparently it still gets me a little teary. Awww!) But I sense with the new baby it might be a little easier to make that connection sooner.

This time we already know just how much we can love a little peanut.

"Oh no. The bridge is out. I fix it!"

Yes, two complete, understandable (at least by me) sentences in a row. Yee haw! So it seems we're making a bit of progress on the language front. Finally. I swear this kid is never going to talk (... although if I hear "Mama, Mama, sit sit sit!" one more time ... argh!). I know, I know, he'll definitely talk one day and I'll wish for his silent days.

***

I did have a good touch-base convo with his speech therapist this week though. One thing we've never done -- because no one thinks it's truly a concern -- is have his hearing checked. I mean, I know he can hear just fine, but he still has such a mush mouth, it's gotten me thinking that maybe he's not hearing the same things we are. And his therapist said, yes, go ahead and get it checked, but she doesn't see any indications that we'll find anything wrong there. She still thinks he is just simply delayed in his speech. So that's a bit of good news, I suppose.

However ... at this point I don't really see the therapy really doing much good. And that's simply because Mr. Independent has yet to see the point of doing what his therapist wants to do. He'd rather just play with the toys and chat a bit. Great. Glad he's happy to be there. But it's a really expensive hour of playtime. Ronnie said that's fairly typical of his age -- after all, he's only two -- and hopefully one day soon he'll grasp what we're trying to accomplish there.

Aside from the fact that he does not have a people-pleaser bone in his body, I think a big part of his slow progress is that he's not that frustrated yet. He gets along just fine in the world and there have only been a few times he's gotten really mad at me for not understanding what he wants. (The full day of "I-AN, I-AN, I-AN!!" comes to mind. Several hours later ... Me: "Oh, you want to watch the Mystery Island episode of Word World?" Kiddle, with a big grin of relief: "I-AN!")

***

Another adorable interaction we often have:

Kiddle, on all fours, crawling about the room: "Moo. Moo. Moo!"
Me: "Oh, you must be a cow today."
Kiddle: "No, Mama. I a Kiddle!"

Hee hee.

This is either ...

A. a brilliant way for Kiddle to burn off some stuck-in-the-house-because-it's-20-degrees-outside energy

B. I'm treating my kid like a hamster.

You decide.

Okay!

It seems like I've mostly been noting the anomalies about Kiddle lately, so I wanted to make sure I recognize some of our favourite things that happen on a daily basis. Most of them revolve around funny conversations we have -- his speech has improved, but is still not very understandable.

He used to tug on my hand and say a mangled combination of "go" and "come." And I'd always say "Go where?" So now he tugs on me and says, "Go where, Mama."

He loves to bump into me on purpose and say, "Sorry!"

When you ask him to do something, he says, "Okay, I try it!"

And our favourite ... Kiddle: "Cookie." Me: "You want a cookie?" (trying to clarify what he just said.) Kiddle: "Okay!"

What a great manipulator.

Damn kid locked me out of the house today.

In the freezing rain. Without a coat. Without a cell phone.

As I was unloading groceries from the car, he managed to lock the screen door. And no matter how many times I said, "turn the white knob, turn the white knob, turn the white knob ...," he couldn't figure out how to open the door.

Thank God that after living in this house for almost five years, I finally gave my neighbor a set of keys -- two weeks ago, believe it or not.

Well, goodnight then.

Tonight Kiddle PUT HIMSELF TO BED.

Well, not really. I'm sure he thinks he's just taking a nap. But little does he know ... he's in for the night. He's developed a habit of going upstairs to hang out in his room with his pacifier whenever he needs a little break. So tonight around 6:00, instead of eating dinner, I heard him head up the stairs. Fine with me. Chill out all you need, kid.

But about 15 minutes later I realized it was eerily quiet up there. I went up to check on him and found him passed out on his bed -- lights on, pants off. I gave him a dose of Zyrtec, put some pants on him, added a blanket and turned out the light.

So it's 6:30 and my kid's asleep. Woo hoo! Although I know I'll be paying for it when he wakes up after his "nap" in two hours or, alternatively, at 4:00 in the morning. Either way, I'll take it.

It's official.

I'm a complete and total mess.

Stomach virus, pregnancy-related congestion that's turning thick and tasty, and now ... Fat Man Ear.

And what, pray tell, is Fat Man Ear, you say?

Well, this is my normal right ear and cheek:


And this is what my left ear and cheek looked like this morning when I woke up:


Attractive, isn't it? I also have hives on the palms of my hands. The cause? Mr. P and I split a can of chicken noodle soup last night for dinner. Trying to be nice to our troubled tummies, you know. And canned soup often contains MSG. I've got a history of reactions to too much MSG -- for instance, overdosing on flavored chips or Chex Mix -- but half a can of soup? Ridiculous. It's actually happened one other time during this pregnancy, so I can only assume I'm super sensitive to it right now. Again, ridiculous.

I'm off to take an antihistamine.

Happy Freaking New Year (or, the Great Barf-Off of 2009)

I knew he wasn't right.

He hadn't eaten for two days. He had a really bad night last night. Sobbing for Mama, crying out intermittently, clinging to me like I was his last hope. But ... no concrete evidence that would have allowed me to cancel our flight this morning. No fever, no vomiting, no diarrhea. Nada.

Until five minutes after we took off and he started throwing up.

Freshly digested milk.

On a tiny regional jet.

Joy.

Yep, he alternated barfing and sleeping for the entire three-hour flight. We were both covered in puke. And then I started sobbing uncontrollably when I realized I'd left all his DVDs at my parents' house (love those pregnancy hormones!). I felt bad for the people around us, but not as bad as I felt for Kiddle. He was miserable, poor thing. And I felt like such a loser of a mom for knowing something wasn't right and still getting on the plane.

But also perversely pleased that at least I wasn't going to have to get my couch and rugs cleaned again. Small blessings, right?