A Quick Breather

Let the Parenting Begin

I have written about Wyatt's eating habits several times just to delete everything. I know every toddler on the planet has eating issues. And I also know that there is nothing more boring then reading about a toddler's eating habits. But I just can't help myself. After almost every meal, I run to my laptop to bang the keys in anger and frustration because my kid WON'T EAT ANYTHING!! Over the course of the day I can make him 12 different meals to get one bite of each actually in his mouth (digested is a whole other story). And then I think, Ok, 12 bites and a multi-vitamin. Thats not so bad. I can calm myself down, convince myself that he is a well rounded eater, until the next meal when my kid STILL won't eat anything and the cycle starts all over again.

I have started getting anxious around meal times. 8am, 11am, 5pm, I start sweating wondering if this time it will be any better. Should I even bother with a vegetable to just jump right to pizza? I feel like everything I prepare is going to end up in the dogs bowl. Even staples that I always could count on like yogurt aren't cutting it anymore. The other night I made home-cooked Mac and Cheese (not even the blue box kind!) and Wyatt didn't take one bite. I decided to stand my ground and told him he was going to sit there until he ate something. We stared at each other for a while. Then he asked for a carrot. And he ate it. So I let him down. I'll take a few bites of a carrot for dinner. And a carrot is MUCH better then nothing, or ice cream, or cookies, or gumminbears (as Wyatt says it. I won't mention who's responsible for that. Cough, cough, Auntie B, cough) Every single meal is a frustrating game of trying to convince him to eat.

I have made it a Thing. He has always been in the 90 percentile for weight and last doctor's visit he dropped to the 60th. And he can sense its a Thing and acts out accordingly. How do I not make it a Thing? Most of the time I can get creative and play some kind of a game to get him to eat. I break out the toothpicks or his fake toolset for him to plier pinch his food. Or I'll give him a bunch of toys while I feed him, spoon by spoon. Or put Cheerios in his cement mixer. Most of the time I can muster up Miss Perfectly Patient despite the knot in my stomach. I will make him a million different things, trying everything in the cabinet.

And then there are the times I loose it. I have bad days just like the rest of the world where I can't be anyone but Grumpy McGrumpster. I resort to bribing which I don't think he understands. The eat one more bite and you can get down (or get an ice pop, or get a toy, or get a sticker, or kick Momma just one more time when she's down) days. Its those days where I throw up my hands and let him eat whatever he wants. Fine, eat popcorn all day. See if I care. Which works for maybe a minute before I do care because I'm his mother and I will always care. And then on top of not getting him to eat now I feel like a failure of a mother because I can't be Miss Perfectly Patient Parent of the MOTHER FUCKING YEAR!! (ARRRR - lays head down on laptop sdkj fhas;tgai hensk djf).

I just honestly have no idea what to do. He is growing up and wants to be independent. He is testing his limits and seeing what he can get away with. He RARLY misbehaves and I have never had to "discipline" him. If I start "forcing" him to eat at the dinner table he will be less willing to sit there all together. It will make it even more of a Thing. But I also feel I need to set a precedent that I am the boss, damn it. He should do what I ask him to. It's just HARD and confusing!! And he is so good, all the time. He is allowed to be a little finicky every now and then. I just need a new game plan, some new tricks up my sleeve, maybe some new recipes. Or I just need to accept that its a phase. Grin and bear it.

Headshot Perfection

The Icing Left Everyone's Mouths Blue

I have so many things that I want to write about; rambling posts about my state of mind and factual posts to add to Wyatt's baby-book known as Bean on the Brain. However, time has eluded me. Its not that I have been super busy, cause I really haven't. Well, here and there. But more like playtime and Netflix have gotten in my way. Oh, Netflix, keeper of my soul, I am so late on your glory train, but let me be the very last to tell you that you are a work of staggering genius. So worth the $9 a month.

But I digress. Wyatt turned two. Remember that?! I really wanted him to understand what a "Birthday" is but its kind of hard to explain to a two year old. Today is the day we celebrate when you came into this world. That's just confusing. We took books out from the Library. I talked about cake and blowing out candles and sang the "Birthday" song about a million times. And just when I thought he was getting it, he ran up to my dad, threw his little arms around his neck and yelled "Happy Birthday, Pa". So close, Wy, so close. He did understand that he was getting presents and that he was going to blow out candles. And when I asked him who's birthday it was he would say "me." But farther then that I am not quite sure.

We searched on the internet and found instructions on how to make a Pablo from the Backyardigans cake. He asked me to make it everyday and I kept holding him off until his birthday. I don't really cook and hardly ever bake. I try but mostly its out of a box or pre-made cookie dough rolls that get half eaten before baked. I like to cook but it has to be when I feel like it and when I have ample time. So, attempting to make this cake, for company, on a time crunch, was a challenge. Seriously, it took more then a nap time. I even melted Starburst's to mould his beak. I thought it was rather ambitious. Totally worth it the moment Wyatt woke up, spotted it, and yelled "Pablo!!!". He refused to eat any dinner. I would try to feed him and he would run into the kitchen, pointing, and questioning "Pablo cake? Eat Pablo cake?". I caught him reaching up and running his finger around the outside, scooping huge globs into his mouth. Hell, it was his cake so I let him do what he wanted. He asked for it again this morning; could I make another. I told him I would think about it. He was ok with that.

I had a small get together, our family and a few friends. I didn't want anything big, just a few kids running (crawling and drooling more like it) and people to sing to him. There will be time for big parties. Rebecca got him trick candles. The kind that re-light. Wyatt was so confused after he blew them out once and then they lit back up again. When he started sounding like he was going to hyperventilate, Elizabeth and I decided to help him out. I was torn between the candles being frustrating for him or kind of hysterical. But then 3 days after his birthday he asked me to put a candle in his pancakes. I did, of course, and sang. I am sure that didn't help with his understanding that we have celebrated his birthday for about 2 weeks now.

He MADE OUT with presents. After all my hemming and hawing about not knowing what to get him. Rebecca got him this Little Tykes grill that he is constantly cooking up hamburgers and hotdogs on. Aunt Em got him a take apart bulldozer that has screws and a screw gun to put it back together. There are just way too many things to list. Just like the fabulous mother I am, I didn't get him anything. I finally dug my heels into the ground and decided to take that trip to Florida I have been planning for over a year now. I booked our plane tickets the day before his birthday. We are going to Disney World for 3 days and then Nana and Grandpa's for 3 days in March. I am so excited for some sun and a mini getaway. So, I guess I got him something but it didn't necessarily have a bow on it.

Momma's Helper?!?

24 Months - The Big 2

My Darling,

We've made it!! Two whole years on this planet and I haven't forgotten to feed you once!!

We're both still alive and kicking; surviving and thriving. I've cut your fingernails, wiped your butt, picked your nose, mopped up your pee, and have been sprayed by your bloody nose. I have watched you run, helped you share, witnessed your curly baby locks fall to the floor. I've been covered in your vomit, sung to you until you fell asleep, and have filled our home with countless trucks. I've coaxed smiles, kissed boo-boos, and tickled you until you couldn't breathe. I've wiped your tears, cut up your food, and have read your favorite book a million and seven times. We did it, Wyatt. We did it together. You're 2, TWO!!

I know that this should be your monthly letter, just like any other. Another page flip of the calendar as time marches on. I know you (or I) won't feel any different on Feb. 10th then we do today. I should write about how you tell me "Ok, sweetie"; something I say to you all the time. Or how you got put in a headlock at the Y and were entirely confused because it was your first experience with anger. Or how your imagination has exploded over night. And yet we have hit another milestone and I can feel myself fighting off the sentimentality. You have been a part of my world for two years. How is that possible; that another year has past? It feels like yesterday that I was staying up all night with you during midnight feedings. But then you have been so woven into my heart, into the fabric that makes up who I am; it feels like you have been there the entire time hidden just under the surface waiting for February 9th, 2008 to make your fabulous appearance and make sense of me.

I find it utterly impossible that you have taught me so much during your short time being my son. You have taught me to be compassionate toward myself and embrace my flaws because they make me who I am. You've taught me how to enjoy the little moments and to slow down to find them. How to look at every cloud in the sky, or blade of grass, or tiny ant with promise and a sense of adventure. You have taught me to dust off my imagination and start creating. How to see the world with all doors open and possibilities endless. You have taught me how to love unconditionally.

I kiss you and tell you I love you every night. And usually several times during the day. But simply saying "I love you" does nothing to capture the feeling that I have for you in my heart. I don't just love you. Its something much more then that. I am sure that I can look back through the history of all time and still never find the word that would describe how I feel about you. And just when I think that I couldn't possibly love you any more, I do. Just when I think my heart is going to explode from sheer joy, it gets bigger to hold more love, joy, and hope for you. It is nothing I have ever experienced before and something that I think is only found by having a child. I will never grow tired of loving you.

We got a book out at the library the other day that I think sums it up pretty nicely:

I love you through and through. I love your top side, I love your bottom side. I love your inside and outside. I love your happy side, your sad side, your silly side, your mad side. I love your fingers and toes, your ears and nose. I love you hair and eyes, your giggles and cries. I love you running and walking, silent and talking. I love you through and through...yesterday, today and tomorrow, too.

OK, I'm done.

I love you, everyday.

Mom

Snow Day

Friday Adventures- Part Deux

Wyatt must have read my post about getting him ready for his class at the Y and decided to up the ante. The following is the conversation that Wyatt and I had on Friday morning:

"Wyatt, my love, lets change your diaper and get ready to go to school."

"You silly woman. There is no way I am putting on that diaper."

"Sweetie, we have to wear our diaper to class."

"I will not."

"Come on, sweetheart. It will only take a minute."

"Don't touch me."

"Wyatt."

"YOU CAN'T MAKE ME. You're too slow!! HAHA. (maniacal laughter) I am going to run away now and be as difficult as humanly possible."

"OK, thats not funny."

"HAHAHA." (More maniacal laughter...)

"Wyatt. If you don't put on your diaper we can't go to class."

"Woman, thats your idea of an ultimatum?!?!? If you put that diaper on me I will only eat jello from a toothpick for a MONTH. Or better yet I will only eat pickles cut up to the size of my pinkie nail. That will get you stinky, messy shits for at least 2 weeks. Now thats an ultimatum!!"

"Did you just say shit, young man?"

"Woman, don't test me."

"Really?!? Is this REALLY happening??"

"I am not above biting."

"Wyatt, we cannot do this today!"

"HAHAHAHA. Are YOU smarter then a 2 year old??"

"FINE!! FINE!!! Don't wear a diaper!! See if I care?"

"Ohh, Momma, I love you!! Can I pick out my big boy underwear, please? Thank you, Mom. You are the best mom in the world!!"

I am sure you can infer the rest but I am going to tell it anyway. After Wy refused his diaper, I was in a little bit of a teaching dilemma. We are beginning to potty train but I feel like he always does better when it is HIS choice to have a potty training day. I ask him at his diaper change (usually when I know that were not going to be leaving the house) if he would like to wear his "Big boy underwear" which means he has to use to potty. If he says yes, its all systems go. I remind him every 3o mins or so and he has had very few accidents. If he says no, he gets a diaper. And then there are days like Friday when he makes the choice for me. Do I force him into a diaper and state that I don't trust him? Or do I let his choice stand and brace for the consequences? I wanted so much to have faith that he could make it but I knew that he was going to get distracted and forget.

We make it to class, without a golden shower, I ask him if he wants to visit the bathroom and he tells me "no, no" shaking his head and runs to play. I literally stalked him. Then, just after he goes down the slide, he gives me the face. The brief pause and slight cock of his head, invisible to the untrained eye, but for me the clock had started ticking. I race over, scoop him up, as he whispers in my ear "Pee-pees in diaper." No, my love, there is no diaper. Wyatt managed to get his pants, underwear, socks, and shoes and also sprinkled on my pants and my cardigan. Thankfully for him, I had a spare set of clothes in anticipation. For myself, not so much. So, yes, I went back to class covered in pee. It dried. I probably smelled. Whatever. Then his teacher gives him a "Special Sticker" for going pee on the potty (or Mommy, I'm not quite sure). It least it went well for him.

And so begins our adventure of roaming outside the house with big boy underwear.