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.

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.