The Boy

 

img_6570_phixrReese has taken to calling  James “the boy.” As in, “the boy is chasing me!” or “Uh-oh, the boy is awake.”

The boy is her one true frienemy. When he’s asleep she is looking for her playmate, but when he is awake it is a never-ending battle for something. Anything. The cover to the yogurt container, for example. One stick from our yard that is covered in sticks. A piece of lint off my shirt.

The boy is currently on a tour of bad behavior and is making sure he doesn’t miss any stops; the YMCA? Check. The library? Double check because he also peed on the computer chair.Target? Check. Market Basket? Check. He throws, he hits, he kicks, and he shouts, “Gimme that train!”in a voice that sounds like it came from a 400 lb trucker.

But he also has this face so it’s hard to stay mad.

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I Used To Love Dinnertime

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This is how dinnertime is at my house. A four-year old looks at the cheese quesadilla in front of her and says that she doesn’t like chicken, or brown things!  A two-year old cries continuously for crackers. When he is placed in front of his dinner, he screams louder, throws his spoon, his cup and then his bowl.

Everyone at the table ignores him. Then he starts screaming “All done!” and starts pulling at the tablecloth. So, he is released from his confines and free to play as he pleases. Thirty minutes later, as the dishes are being cleared away, he begins crying for a “COOKIE!” Two hours later, as he’s being put into his crib he will look up at you with big, beautiful brown eyes, and have the balls to say, “I want some dinner.”

Today Was That Day

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Six months into my life as a mother of two, some days are good, and some are not.

Some days your kid refuses to get out of the lake.

After 10 minutes of spewing idle threats from the beach, “You are in timeout when we get home!”, “NO TV!”, “I will leave you here!”, “No dinner!”, you turn into that crazy mom and wade into the water with one kid strapped to your chest, and drag the other kid out of the lake and across the sand by one arm.

Other beachgoers look on in horror.

You don’t care.

 

 

I Hope This Is My Last Post About Potty Training

Lately, I could talk for days about potty training. That’s how boring and annoying I am.

I am happy to report that Reese is completely potty trained. We think. It was a rough road and involved some light force at times, but we did it.

Sharing the story of how we potty trained Reese is a little embarrassing because it makes me sound pretty mean, but whatever.

As I have said before, Reese took to peeing in the potty pretty easily but refused to go #2. She took it so far that if we skipped nap time (her time of choice for going #2) she would hold it in, sometimes for days, until she had another nap time. Then, when she finally would go it would be a huge nasty explosion that I would have to clean up, often with a crying baby in my arms.

About a month or so ago, she went #2 in her diaper during her nap time. She then proceeded to smear the contents of her diaper all over her room. The walls, the windows, the shades, the rug etc. (we had to pull up the rug in her room because the smell would not go away.)  I took a picture of the mess on my phone and sent it to Andrew. “Come home please!” (I will spare you by not posting that photo here.) He came home early, we cancelled our dinner plans and spent the next 4 hours cleaning.

After this, we both had major anxiety about where/when this could occur again. One day I was about to tell Andrew something funny that Reese did at swimming lessons and I said, “You’ll never believe what Reese did today at swimming.” He said, “Don’t tell me she shit in the pool.” It was on our minds.

The Monday after the incident I decided I was D-O-N-E. I started putting Reese in underwear every day, which was mean of me, because I knew she wouldn’t go #2 in her underwear, so she held it in. After about 3 days of no # 2, I gave her prune juice, went into the bathroom with her and made her sit on the potty until she went. I promised her anything she wanted if she would go. Ice cream, candy, toys, entire cakes, the list goes on.

We were there for hours. Literally. The first day was probably 2-2.5 hours of me sitting on the tile while Reese sat, and sat, and sat. When she would finally start to go, she would freak out, try to  jump off the potty and cry for her diaper. It was so sad. I actually had to hold her down on the potty (this is the part where I sound like a fricking lunatic mom, but scrubbing shit off walls will make you a crazy person) until she went.

The next day it was another 2-3 hours of Andrew and I taking turns sitting with her until she went. She was rewarded once she went, and after that it seemed to click. She started telling us when she had to go, and was happy collecting her reward once she did. Now, about a month and a half later, we are still rewarding her every time, and we may continue until she’s 12. We don’t want to screw this up.

Here is Reese showing off one of her “potty presents.” She was promised at least 100 different presents but seems satisfied with “a toothbrush that goes buzzzzz.”

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Reese At Two Years And 8 Months

 

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Reese will be three in November. We are in the midst of the terrible twos. I agree that two can be terrible, but it can also be hilarious and fun. When kids start talking and conversing with you, you learn a lot. You learn what they really think about the way you look, the things you are doing, the clothes you are wearing, the way you talk, etc. Reese does not hold back and if you’re having a bad hair day, girlfriend will let you know.

Her first love is still all things food, but currently, other obsessions include Calliou, Curious George, Laurie Berkner, swimming, and princesses.

Two has been fun because we can do more things that she can truly appreciate. She can hang for a full day at the beach, the zoo, a kid’s museum etc. No more paying big bucks for tickets to the amusement park where she sits in the sandbox for 2 hours!

She now actually likes playing with other kids. Especially older girls. Whenever we go to the playground she asks if there will be other kids there. When we get there, if there is an older girl there she immediately runs up and says “Hi, I’m Reese, what is your name?” If they don’t answer, she asks again. If they try to leave, she follows, and asks again. She has her father’s persistence and her mother’s social skills.

Reese takes swimming lessons once a week at the YMCA and she LOVES them. It was here I learned that she has also become fearless. If I don’t have her hand in a death grip when we walk to the locker room at the end of class she will try to jump into the deep end of the pool. Every time. More than once she has slid down the kiddie slide into the pool before I was at the bottom to catch her.

She talks nonstop. Mostly to ask questions. Her favorite question is “why?” “Why is that man eating his lunch?” “Why is that girl playing on the swing?” The worst is when she asks questions about people who are within earshot as if they weren’t there at all. “Mom, why is that man talking to the girl? Why does he talk like that? Why is he holding that? Why does he have those glasses on? Where is his Mom?”

Reese’s speech is great for the most part but she still hasn’t mastered her S words yet so it sometimes takes us awhile to understand what she is talking about.  Poon is spoon, tairs is stairs, etc. My favorite is cream instead of scream.

No new news on the potty front. Should it be taking this long?

Relations with James are improving. I have caught her telling him, “It’s ok James”, when he’s crying and the other night she even asked me if we could move James’s crib into her room.

Every day is still something new and when I look at James I am reminded of how much they change in such a short time.

So we are soaking in all that two has to offer; the terribleness and the hilariousness.

 

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