Spring is in the air.

Well, a little bit anyway.

I wish I could say it was a glorious day, but I can't. Overcast and a bit damp, in fact, but it was close to 50 and a nice day to stretch our legs at the park. We've been off and on over the winter when the weather has allowed, but today was the first day we actually encountered the usual group of kids.

Joseph, Juliana, Gwen, and LK were all there. And we met a couple of fresh-on-their-feet walkers who were too little to be noticed last summer. The kids had a fantastic time chasing each other all over the place and making woodchip cakes. Banana cake, chocolate cake, birthday cake, PAN-cakes (they thought that one was hysterical). So many flavors.

This park has become my lifeline to burn some energy out of my busy little kid. The winter has been long, long, long and I can't wait to get back to our nightly park outings. I think I was giddier than the kids today!

Daddy Love: The Movie.

DA-YEE!!

It's seems we're (finally) entering a daddy phase. After, I don't know, two years of a mommy phase? Two years of Kiddle trying to close the door on Daddy when he comes home from work, sobbing at the top of the stairs if Daddy dares to put him to bed solo, and hysterically wailing when Daddy enters his room instead of Mommy.*

Now, he cries when Daddy leaves in the morning, is thrilled when he gets home in the evening and doesn't utter a peep when Daddy takes him up to bed alone. And on nights that we're both getting him ready for bed, his answer to the question, "Do you want to rock with Mommy or Daddy?" is just as often DA-YEE as it is MAMA.

I wouldn't say it's all about Daddy just yet. But we're getting there. Thank god.

Let's hope it hangs on through the birth of this next kid.

* Disclaimer: extreme examples; not everyday occurrences.

KiddleTV

Yes, he's eating blueberries while watching himself eat blueberries.

He loves to watch video of himself. (Future reality star perhaps?) WASH KIDDLE? WASH KIDDLE? as he's tapping on the screen. CAM-RA? And if that doesn't work, WASH DA-YEE?

During the latest episode of KiddleTV, he ran to the fridge and got out the carton of blueberries when he saw himself eating berries on-screen. Art imitating life? Life imitating art? Who knows.

My Little Helper

Three of my favourite of-the-moment Kiddle obsessions:

1) He is my printer assistant. No matter where he is or what he's doing, he must -- MUST -- drop everything as soon as he hears my printer start up just so he can hand me the pages as they come out. I've had to reprint things simply to avoid the meltdown.

2) He is my bathroom attendant. Flushing is his job and his job alone. Heaven forbid I pee and flush the toilet myself. But his belated dash into the bathroom combined with a look of indignant reproach is worth it. At least until I have to bodily remove him from the bathroom and lock the door from the outside.

3) He is my elevator operator. The only reason trips to the grocery store are somewhat reasonable is that we park in the garage under the store and take the elevator up. But never forget -- Kiddle must be the one to push the buttons. To the point that he refused to get on the elevator recently because Mr. P pushed the Up button. The nerve of that guy.

And just how pregnant am I?

Good question.

My mom asked me a while back how many weeks I was. No clue. And of course she said, "You would have known exactly how many weeks you were with Kiddle." Well, duh, mom. It was my first pregnancy and I had it written down on a calendar right in front of me at my desk. Be thankful this is my second pregnancy and I'm not asking you to cancel your trip to Florida that covers my due date.

So how many weeks am I? I know I was 20 weeks on Christmas day, so that means I'm ... hang on ... 28 weeks. Twelve to go.

Yikes. That seems really soon and really far away.

TMI Alert: OB Update

I survived yesterday's three-hour glucose test without passing out or falling asleep. When I took the test while pregnant with Kiddle, desperate for a quick hit of protein, I stopped by McDonald's (perhaps that makes my quest protein-like?) on the way back to the subway to get a double cheeseburger. And, of course, it was one of those times it takes at least 10 minutes to get your food. I was about to collapse into a pile of goo as I clung to the counter, willing them to put that burger in my hands. How hard is it to make a double cheeseburger? I did learn a lesson from that experience and took a peanut butter sandwich with me for yesterday's test.

I also found out that my sugar level wasn't sky high -- 144, and the cut-off is 140. So that was good news and an indication that I might make it through this test without being labeled as diabetic.

The frustrating part of the visit was that the protein level in my urine sample was too high. Way too high. No need to panic yet, but it definitely worries me because that was one of the problems I had while pregnant with Kiddle -- but much later in the pregnancy. Protein in your urine is one of the indicators of preeclampsia. But it must accompany high blood pressure, which I don't have. Yet. The only solution for preeclampsia is to deliver the baby. Not a big deal if you're past 37 weeks, but I've got quite a ways to go before delivery is an option.

However -- hopefully the protein is a sign of something else. Like an asymptomatic UTI. So the doctor is sending off more urine for analysis and took more blood to run some other tests. And I have to do a 24-hour urine collection test this weekend. (So don't drink out of the big red jug in the fridge please!)

And, to top it all off, I have a sinus infection. Very annoying; haven't had one in years and years. I started a round of antibiotics last night, so I'm just waiting for that to kick in and get rid of the pain and pressure on the left side of my face. The good news is that if I do have a UTI, the antibiotics will take care of that too.

Which reminds me ... I'm two hours late taking my pill. Gotta go!

Edited to add: I also found out that I was already exposed to fifth disease at some point, so I'm immune. Whew! One less thing to worry about.

Luck of the Irish? Or the dumbest thing ever?

Am I insane for wanting to get my almost three-year-old this toy? Does it seem less crazy if I add that he's at least 51% Irish?

10 steps to bed.

1) Aim for a 7:00 bedtime ... but always start the process a half hour too late. (Remember, people, he stopped napping. 7:00 is not ridiculously early.)

2) Wrestle Kiddle into a fresh diaper, pull-up (yes, we're layering) and pajamas while he's madly jumping on my bed and hiding under the covers. "HIDEY, Mama! HIDEY!"

3) Dose of Zyrtec, then teeth brushing.

4) Read one or two books. Much to my annoyance, this means toddler look-and-find books. He will not listen to anything story-based right now.

5) Rock in his big red chair for 10 minutes or so while listening to U2 or Led Zeppelin lullaby CD.

6) Tell him it's time to get into bed. He then pushes me backwards to try to keep me in the chair: "Nooo, no bed. Rock, Mama! ROCK!"

7) Rock for two more minutes, then insist he get into bed. Cover him with a blanket, give him a kiss, say "I love you," and hightail it out of the room as quickly as possible before he can untangle himself from the blanket and catch up with me.

8) Dash down the stairs as he flings open his door, rattles the gate, sobbing "MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!"

9) Listen to the wailing until he decides he may as well shut up and go to sleep. Hopefully only two to five minutes.

10) When I head up to bed several hours later, check to see if he's asleep at his door or if he actually made it back to his bed.

I just don't get the racing-after-me step in this process. Why waste a perfectly good sense of sleepiness when he knows I'm not coming back? I do know why though. He wants to be rocked to sleep or for me to sit there while he goes to sleep. No way, bud. I've spent too, too many hours walking, jiggling, snuggling, and rocking you to sleep in the last three years. I'm done. Time to man up and go to sleep on your own. I know you can do it. I've seen you do it. So just do it.

I failed ...

... my one-hour glucose test. Ugh.

I didn't pass it when pregnant with Kiddle either. That time I got through the long version ok, but I wouldn't be terribly surprised if I end up on the gestational diabetes route this time. Annoying, but at least it would force me to clean up my diet. I've been on a serious sugar binge the last month or so.

So it's the three-hour, multiple-blood-samples version for me this Friday (which, by the way, is the first of my every-two-weeks appointments). Good thing the phlebotomist at my OB's office rocks!

Two Cool Things

At last, Kiddle is tall enough to completely reach the pedals on his tricycle. Now he's just got to grasp the concept of steering.

***


We FINALLY have an indoor playspace near us.* And it's fantastic. The best part for Kiddle at this age is the huge jungle gym. We went this morning and he spent most of our visit climbing and sliding. It also has a bunch of imagination playrooms: a workshop, grocery store, 50s diner, beauty shop, ballet studio, and more. Kiddle's pretend play skills haven't really kicked in yet (and I'm not sure he has that gene considering he's a product of me and Mr. P), so those rooms aren't particularly interesting to him yet. Unless, of course, spinning in a circle with a grocery cart and gazing at himself on the live video feed in the High School Musical room is what you'd call "interested." But that will just give us more to explore as he gets older.

* Hello, we live in the Northeast! It's cold here! You'd think there would be a ton of places like this around us, but no. All the ones that are somewhat appropriate for a two-year-old are at least 45 minutes away. I'm always so jealous when I go to Oklahoma because it seems like there's so many more options. So I'm thrilled to have somewhere new and clean and fun.

I plead the fifth.

Kiddle might have fifth disease.

His preschool teacher brought it up today when I picked him up. She became concerned because his cheeks got really red at one point today (major symptom), she heard that a kid in another class has it, and she knows I'm pregnant.

I just don't remember this being around when I was a kid (and neither does my mom), but what do I know? So here's what I learned today:

• Also called "slapped cheek" disease because they get bright red cheeks.
• Can develop a rash on the rest of the body too.
• Usually starts as what seems like a mild cold: runny nose, low-grade fever.
• Only contagious during the "cold" period. When the rash shows up, they're no longer contagious.
• Once you've had it, you're immune to it.

Kiddle had a fresh runny nose start almost two weeks ago. He might have had a slight fever one morning, but I never could get a good thermometer read and one round of Motrin knocked it out, if it was really there at all. He definitely had some serious red cheeks and redness around the mouth starting last Monday, but he always has rosy cheeks so I didn't really think much of it. I just thought they were extra chapped from all the snot he was smearing all over his face. No rash on his body (that I noticed anyway, but that's a whole other bad-mom post). So at this point it's really impossible to tell if he's had it since his symptoms aren't blatant, unless we did blood work ... and I'm not going down that path! For an extra dash of irony, we were at the pediatrician last Monday (the first day of his red cheeks) for other reasons, and apparently it didn't cross her mind either.

But here's the kicker. You DON'T want to get it if you're pregnant. If you transmit it to your baby, especially during the first half of your pregnancy, it can cause serious anemia and be fatal for the baby. Yikes! But, there's about a 50% chance I'm already immune to it and, since I'm at six months, it's less of a worry for the baby. My OB did have me come in today for blood work, just to see what's going on. They can tell if I'm already immune or if I've been recently exposed, so I'll just have to wait for the test to come back.

Oh, the joys of childhood illnesses! I do wish I had a good picture of his neon cheeks last week. You would all be horrified. In hindsight, maybe I should have been too.

Chariots of Fire: The Toddler Years

I think I broke my kid today.

He had a playdate at our house with a preschool friend. When her mom dropped her off, I said we would just walk Mia home later because it was such a beautiful day out.

Mia doesn't live too far from us; basically just up the street a few blocks. Kiddle and Mia ended up running the entire way there. I must have said "on your mark, get set, go!" one hundred times along the way. Normally I'd take the stroller, as a backup, but didn't this time since I had both kids. Several times I mentioned to Kiddle he could walk, but his reply was always, "NO ... I RUNNING!" Alrighty then.

On the way back he was so wiped out, I wasn't sure he was going to make it home without passing out in someone's yard. Of course, he kept saying, "I KIY YOU," which translates to "I'll carry you," which means YOU carry ME.

Only on the downhills, babe. I'm six months pregnant and you weigh 30 pounds.

I did carry him for a bit and I really did think he had gone to sleep. He was so still and so snuggled into my neck. Until we passed a cat, and I heard him mutter, "LOOK, KIY CAT." Down you go, bud.

When we got home he was a complete blithering idiot. Every single interaction we had was filled with sobbing hysterics.

"Want to watch Zoboomafoo while I get lunch ready?"
"NOOO .... PINGU. PINGU!"
"No Pingu right now. If you don't want to watch Zoboomafoo, then let's have some cottage cheese."
"NO CODGE CHEESE! ZABOO. ZABOO!"
He watches TV for a bit, has a complete meltdown when I sit him at the table, until he digs into his cottage cheese with gusto. (I should probably point out that feeding him cottage cheese is not a punishment ... rather, it's the mainstay of his diet.)
"All done? Ok, time to go upstairs to rest."
"NOOO! NO UPSTAIRS! NO NA! NO RES! MO CODGE CHEESE! PINGU! NO NA!!!"
This diatribe continues as I carry his kicking, writhing body up the stairs to my room and attempt to change his diaper.
"NO DIPEY! NO DIPEY! DOWNSTAIRS! NO NA!"

Ten minutes later, he's sound asleep in my bed and takes a two hour nap for the first time in weeks. I had the hardest time not laughing at him because he was just so fried. I'm not sure that I've ever seen him that tired in the middle of the day.

Oh, and I finally checked the distance my two-year-old ran/walked/stumbled: one mile round trip. Turns out Mia's house isn't quite as close as I thought. Whoops!

He won't talk, but he can spell.

Perhaps Kiddle misses his Ahdah (my dad)?

Pacifier No More

Kiddle seems to have weathered the end of his pacifier shockingly well.

His last silicone pacifier was tattered to the point that it annoyed him. (He kept manipulating my hands to squeeze the ends together, telling me it's BOKEN and to FIH-IH.) So I trimmed off the jagged parts. Then it really bothered him. But not as much as the alternate choice of a fully-formed latex pacifier.

He pushed on through his annoyance for several days, just so he had something in his mouth while falling asleep. But the last few nights he hasn't even asked for it. It's sitting, rather forlornly, on the ledge in his room. Of course, it's probably helped that he's had a massive cold the last 10 days and can't really breathe through his nose. But I'll take whatever advantage I can get in this process.

.

***

I'm finding that Kiddle is remarkably more adaptable than I anticipate with lots of things. I don't read a lot of child development info because it usually makes me feel like a worse mom than I already do, but it seems like most of what I do read emphasizes helping ease them through whatever transition they happen to be in -- giving up a pacifier, moving to a big kid bed, potty training. (And, lord knows, I am not self-sacrificing enough to do much of the advice. Sleep in a sleeping bag next to their bed ... as if.)

Yet he seems rather unfazed by most things. (Although the worst transition of his short little life, for me anyway, was when we finally let him cry-it-out just before he was a year old. Two weeks of complete and utter hell. And he still doesn't really sleep through the night.) I thought giving up his pacifier would be traumatic and heartbreaking, but he's getting through it just fine. Although I'm sure the first time I don't worry and stress over the approach to a new phase in his life all hell will break loose.

Or will it?

Happy Birthday to Me!

My favourite way to spend my birthday ... a relaxing, yummy dinner with my funny, beautiful friends. Extra birthday bonus? A certain two-year-old at home with Uncle Matty and Aunt Erin. (And if only I could have left the in vitro one behind as well. I miss alcohol! And rare tuna!)

Thanks to Belinda, Denny, Brian and Chrissy for sharing an evening with me. And thanks to Mr. P for putting it all together. You're the best!

All I want for my birthday ...

... is a damn pizza.

It's been a rather dull, bordering-on-the-depressing birthday day. OB appointment with a glucose test. Planned to go home and do some yoga before picking up Kiddle at school. But his teacher called while I was waiting to have my blood drawn and basically said he was disgustingly snotty, please come get him. Scratch the yoga.

Mr. P had to drive to Connecticut today, but thought he'd be home by 6:00. I called to check on his progress at 5:40 and learned he was up by Woodbury Commons -- a solid hour from here, longer during the evening rush. And he still has to go by the office. Scratch dinner and him putting the kid to bed.

I perked up a bit when I decided to order myself a stuffed-crust pepperoni pizza from Pizza Hut. Something I love, but rarely get because Mr. P has the typical New Yorker's disdain for chain pizza places. But then I found out they can't deliver right now. Scratch the pizza.

So I'll have to settle for a few spoonfuls of chocolate frosting right out of the jar. Yum.

***

Before you think this is the saddest birthday ever, there is some celebrating in the works. Dinner in the city tomorrow. Somewhere, with some people is all I know. I do know it's not somewhere horribly fancy because I'd hate to have to think beyond my mom clothes when I get dressed to go. (And confirmed by a friend (thank you Belinda!), because I can't totally trust Mr. P's assessment of appropriate attire.) And on Sunday, Mr. P is taking me to "The Importance of Being Earnest" at a local theater (that I haven't been to since before I moved to New York). AND he arranged all the necessary babysitting for Kiddle.

So it will be a great birthday weekend. BirthDAY, however, a bit blah.

"I kill you."

I've been hoping I could get this on video ... and we finally caught it tonight. Kiddle often tells me he's going to tickle me. But it sounds like he is saying he's going to kill me. Tickle? Kill? Slight difference, I suppose.



Next video goal: he finally has two songs in his repertoire (What can I say? The chance of any musical ability in this family is somewhere between slim and none). Old MacDonald and Wheels on the Bus. He completely butchers both of them, but it's adorable. Hopefully I can capture a session before his skills improve.

The Final 100 Days.

Of this pregnancy. Or, hopefully, the Final 90 Days if I get my wish of May 4th instead of May 14th.

And sometime in the last week I've crossed the line from mostly-forgetting-that-I'm-pregnant over to always-knowing-that-I'm-pregnant. And that could have something to do with the fact that I think I've finally gained some weight. (Not for lack of trying.) I've got a doctor's appointment on Thursday (glucose test ... yuck) and I think it might be a bit scary. The couple of pounds I'd gained were lost during the Great Barf-Off of 2009, but that was probably a bit of a false loss. All I know is I'm avoiding the scale until then.

I've got major urge to buy new baby things, too. I keep reminding myself that Kiddle had WAY TOO MUCH STUFF, but it's hard. A big goal for this week is to get out the 0-3 and 3-6 month stuff and go through it, so I can either nip this urge in the bud or give myself permission to get a few things. (Although I've already given in a bit. Don't tell anyone.)

I hate winter.

Kiddle is going to turn into a TV. Any minute now, I swear.

This winter sucks. Last year was all about finding fun indoor things to do. This winter we've been stuck in the house way too much because he's pretty much been sick since the day we got back from the holidays in Oklahoma. If he can't go to school, he probably shouldn't go play at the mall, right?

The latest thing? He started with a fresh, disgusting cold on Friday that morphed into the croup last night. He's had an almost-constant cough since the beginning of December, but this was the first time it's been in his chest. Poor thing was miserable. It's so hard to watch because there's just not much you can do for them at the age of two.

So it's the two of us. In the house. All day. And Lord knows I'm not the patient, arts-and-crafts type of mom. To top it all off, for some unknown reason all the Pingu episodes disappeared off OnDemand this weekend. I might have to kill myself. Godspeed, O Pingu DVD I ordered on Amazon this weekend. Godspeed.