Smart(ass) Kid

Everyone wants their kid to be smart, I'm no different. Everyday I see in her talents that will one day lead to a successful career; some examples:

• She'd make a great manager - she bosses us around all the time.
• A food tester - assuming I can actually get her to taste it.
• A Wal-Mart Door Greater - Anytime we go shopping she randomly hellos people. She also greets all of her classmates enthusiastically in the mornings, or so I am told.
• IT Manager - she's really good with computers and has been for more than two years now.

A mischievous smile if I ever saw one... 

I also note a few things she probably won't excel at, like:

• Babysitter - she carries her doll babies around by their hair. Note: she did not learn this from me. Also, they are always naked. Again, not something taught by mommy.
• Lifeguard - she refuses to go under water.
• Anything requiring a lot of patience. Note: I have no patience for this characteristic. I'm certain she got it from her father.

Angie sure is smart though, at least in my opinion. I've never been around small kids much, so I could be wrong, but I doubt it. Let me give you an example.

Last week on the way home from school (which is an hour drive) she tells me "Mom, I need to go potty."

"Can you hold it until we get home?"

"No, but I can hold it until we get to McDonald's..."

"But can you hold it until we get home?"

"Mom, I already told you," she says slowly and distinctly, "I. can. hold. it. until. we. get. to. McDonald's."

Smart ass kid, "but we're not. going. to. McDonald's. Can you hold it until we get home?"

Heavy sigh from the backseat, "yes..."

Mom 1, Angie 0.

She's 4. What's my life going to be like in 10 years??

In other news, I bought the book Monsters Eat Whiny Children, as I said I would. It's very cute and Angie loves it. Probably because it's fun for mommy to read. It's not scary at all.

However, one night when she was trying to delay going to bed (again) she said, "mommy, there's a monster in my closet."

"Honey, as long as you don't whine, the monster won't eat you"

She offered no further resistance and I went on to earn a Top Ten Tweet of the Week from @RubySpikes.

Mom 2, Angie 0

Don't worry though, the score is probably more like Mom 2, Angie 1,274. She certainly keeps me on my toes. For example she peed in my car the week prior to the day mentioned above, without even telling me that she had to go potty! So, the whole McDonald's ploy may have had pre-planning.

4 Years

Brand New! Still under warranty.

Six Months

One Year!

One and a half.

Two, and already cynical?

Doesn't this look just like her?

Two and a half! Already a ham.

The Big Oh Three!

Three and a half - first school picture.

Four!

She's a Big Girl now!

Updates on Jealousy, Poop and Binkies

An update on the Jealousy Makes me Blog Crazy Things post, to the left are the latest search keywords people used to find my blog.

Karma Kleenex - ok, I did post a blog about that, but um... who searches for it?

Nookie on the stairs? No clue. We live in a single story house, for one, and secondly I haven't ever blogged about stairs or nookie that I can recall...

And Yes! Poop! Success!!! I'm not sure who Googles poop, but there you have it!

You too are welcome to join the WTFHUH??? Blog Ring. We're comparing odd search results, and maaaybe trying to inspire new ones. It's like Google Fishing. LOL.

In other news, the binkies are all gone now. We are finally binky free! I was almost ready to give up hope. In the end, a week of cold turkey worked, even when she found one of her old, yucky, chewed up binkies. So if you're struggling with your own Binky Saga, there is hope!

Just to be sure, the two remaining binkies have uh... disappeared, never to return.

The Binky Saga Concludes?

Graduated from Binky, at last!

Almost two weeks ago the two remaining binkies both went missing. Although many of Angie's toys "mysteriously disappeared" that same day (while she was at her grandparent's house) I had nothing to do with the binkies' disappearance. I swear.

Monday night, the first night they were missing, was awful. She cried. She whined. She begged. She sniveled. I swore to her I didn't know where it was. I searched the house top to bottom - six times. Finally she cried herself to sleep.

Tuesday night was almost as bad, but didn't last as long.

Wednesday night was better, as was Thursday night. By Friday she mentioned it, but there were no more tears. I explained again that I had looked and looked, but the binky was missing.

Saturday afternoon Angie comes running out of her room "Mommy!! I found binky!!"

Damn, I thought. "Oh good," I said without much feeling and a fake smile.

Saturday night I dubiously handed Angie her binky, "I bet it tastes yucky, and it's all chewed up," I commented.

Then the most incredible thing happened... although she had immediately popped it into her mouth, she had put it back on her nightstand when I went in later to check on her!

For almost a week now she's barely touched it. She's asked for the other (still missing) binky a few times, but it's not in much better condition than the one she found is.

Finally potty trained and binky free? Wow. I'm so happy! I wasn't sure this day would ever come.

Kids Don't Care

Kids don't care when Mommy is sick, or tired, or sick and tired. 

Mom doesn't always look happy.

Kids don't care about the rules.

Ppppbbbbbttttttt!

Kids don't care about gender specific costumes. 

Angie Lightyear, to the rescue!

Kids don't care about privacy. Theirs or yours 

Reading in the John starts early.

Kids don't care about "personal space".

No, I don't mind, why do you ask?

 Kids don't care about getting messy.

But it's fun!

 Kids don't care about stereotypes.

I'm a motorcycle riding princess, ye-haw!

 Did I mention that kids don't care about getting messy?

Powder-Palooza 2010.

 Kids don't care about fashion or making sense.

Better safe than sorry.

 Kids don't care about looking silly.

Downward Facing Toddler.

 Kids don't care what's in the package, it's still exciting.

Sometimes the package is more exciting.

Kids don't care if you were planning on them or not.

First smile.

Kids don't care that it was really you who hid the eggs. 

Kids don't care if their artwork is museum quality or not. 

Aunt Stephanie

Kids don't care if their makeup is on perfectly or not. 

Gorgeous! 

Did I mention that kids don't care about being silly? 

CHEEEEEEEEEEEESE!

I don't know about you, but I want to be more like my kid. :)

Happy Mother's Day!

Take a cue from your kids and stop caring about the things that really don't matter. 

As one of my friends pointed out... they're just like mini-Honey Badgers! LOL 

May Mom's Blog Hop

Here's the full list of the wonderful ladies participating in this year's May Mom Blog Hop. I invite you to visit their blogs. Such great, heartfelt, funny, poignant and wonderful blogs. I'm honored to be included among their ranks! I've also included their Twitter names, so you can keep in touch with them there. 

Nadia - Musings By The Light Of The Moon - @NadiaR13
Christine - All About Momsense - @ChristineMarie_
Crystal - Domestic But Not Martha - @DmstcBtNtMartha
Dana - The Sears Family  - @DanaSearsFam
Kimberly - All Work & No Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something - @momgosomething
Corinne - Ode to Blogging - @CorinneOFlynn
Jennifer - JennHeffer - @jennheffer
Jana - The Bees Knees - @ohheyitsj
Deborah - The Truth About Motherhood - @TruthfulMommy
Ani - Anime's Musings - @ThatGirlAni
Julie - I Love Purple More Than You - @Gsnaps
Jill - Yeah. Good Times. - @jillsmo
Jacki  -What Did She Say? - @jackiyo
Brandi - The Adventures of a Dysfunctional Supermom - @DysfuncSupermom
Theresa - My Life As Taz - @RockOnMommies
Sara - Momma Findings - @sarann
Carrie - The Sweetest - @TheSweetest3
Debra - Write On Target - @debralynnlazar
Jen - Little Miss Mocha - @littlemissmocha
Amy - Transplanted Thoughts - @transplantedx3
Leslie - Leslie Gail's Blog - New Life Focus - @GR8lifecoach
Natalie - Mommy of A Monster - @mommyofamonster
Karmen - Family Sized Fun - @FamilySizedFun
JC - Little Animation  - @LittleAnimation
Adrienne - On the Road Less Taken - @adriennemay
Kelly - Go Go Gadget Zen - @modinkpeeb
Susan - Memoirs of a Writer -@narrawriter
Elizabeth - Mother's Gilt - @MothersGilt
Allana Pratt - Blog and Vlog Musings - @allanapratt
Kelley - Kelley's Break Room - @KelleysBreakRm
and me! @MrsPickle_

An Ode to Angelina Jean

First off, I'd like to thank Christine and Nadia for hosting this May Mom Blog Hop. Thirty-one of us are part of the hop, one posting on each day in May, in celebration of motherhood. I am honored to be included!

It has only just begun, and I've already found so many great new blogs and Tweeters. If you've missed any of the blog hop so far, be sure to check out:
Moments of Motherhood by Nadia
Respect, Appreciation and Love by Christine
May Mom Blog by Crystal, and
Motherhood Includes by Dana

Some of these posts have extolled the virtues of motherhood; how great, fulfilling and totally awesome it can be. I don't disagree, there are certainly moments that being a mother is very rewarding.

There are also plenty of times when it is exhausting, frustrating and just plain hard. I have had days where I tearfully tell my husband that if I were failing at anything else as badly as I'm failing at motherhood, I'd have given up by now.

I think the best thing I have discovered on Twitter is that I am not alone in this. Some days I comfort other mothers at their wit's end. Others, I vent my feelings to my virtual friends or cry on their distant shoulders. And their blogs? Fantastic. Helpful. Informative. FUNNY. Poignant. Real. If you're a parent, or even just a sympathetic bystander, you should definitely follow along this month.

__________________

Angelina, which means Angel, had a name picked out almost three years before she was born. I had dreams about her. I had always known she was coming, someday. I couldn't figure out why she had made me wait so long, until right before she was born.

As you may know, Angie saved my life and my sanity when she was born. After more than two years of trying, my husband and I finally conceived a child - only to lose it seven weeks later. It was a tubal pregnancy. I woke up from what was supposed to be a D&C to find out that one of my tubes had had to be removed. I spent weeks crying to Lenny that I was broken.

Then, six weeks after I lost the first baby, I was pregnant again! For a long time I still cried for "Peanut," but Angie was due on 7/7/07 which I prayed would bring us luck.

On June 5th, four weeks before she was due, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I've written several blogs about my experience, which was just about as fantastic as it could have been, if you're interested. That day my surgeon told me to expect to have Angie that week. My OB/GYN argued, successfully, that we could wait until Angie was at 38 weeks.

I was in labor for 56 hours. I have already informed my boss and my husband that I will never work on June 23rd again. Angie was almost named Angelina Staydol after the drug that kept me relatively pain free for all those hours. They couldn't do a C-Section, because I was to start chemo two weeks later.

Yet, I was still able to make bad jokes... I told my doctor. "Doc, if I don't have this baby soon, I'm going to have a Cancer." She groaned, "Wendy, only you could make that joke." (Angie was supposed to be a Gemini, but since she delayed so long she is a Cancer. Bad joke, I know, but women with cancer in labor for 56 hours have special dispensation.)

Then finally, Angie was born. Healthy, whole and perfect. I was so thankful. I was 35 when she was conceived, 36 when she was born. I had refused genetic testing. I had cancer for crying out loud. I knew that I was blessed.

Then, after she was born, instead of my very first thought in the morning being "I have cancer" it became "I have a little girl!". Instead of focusing on the horror of breast cancer at 36, chemotherapy and suggestions that I should have a double mastectomy, I had something much better to focus on - Angie. She saved my sanity.

Later I would realize that her timing had been perfect. Had I given birth in April with Peanut, I may not have found the cancer until it was too late. As it was, the tumor had gone from the size of a marble to the size of a golf ball in only three weeks. She saved my life.

Not to mention that since I was on maternity leave I could better manage my crazy cancer patient schedule and not have to deal with work too.

It's been almost four years now. I remain cancer free after my treatments. Angie is no longer a baby, but now a "big girl" with "big girl panties" to prove it.

My husband often accuses me of being too lenient with her. Maybe I am, but I hate incessant whining love her so much. Nothing makes me happier than to see her happy. That, or I use her as a cover so I can add to my stuffed animal collection. Although I would gladly give my life for this child, her first act was to save mine.

I have always believed that she chose me, I didn't choose her. I remind us both of that when I feel like I'm failing at being a good mom.

Remember, you chose me.

"Remember," I tell her, "you chose me."

Think about that for a moment. What if we do choose our parents before we're born. Why did you choose your mother, what lessons did she teach you? What lessons did you teach her? Why did your children choose you? You may think that you're doing all the teaching, but pause for a moment to appreciate all that they're teaching you.

What did Angie teach me? That sometimes timing is everything. That often we have to wait for things we desperately want. That everything happens in its own time. That love really is the answer.

Thank you sweetheart.

_________________________

Next up, is a blog by Kimberly at All Work & No Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something. Be sure to check her blog out tomorrow!

Thank you for stopping by :)

Binky Down... Binky Down!

Angie's almost four now, and still addicted to her Binky. She's only allowed Binky at nap and bedtime, but if given the opportunity she'll sneak it like a reluctantly reformed smoker. She's very good at it. I'm always torn between being impressed with her sneaky skills, appalled at her still wanting that darn thing and concerned about her sneaky skills...

As I've mentioned before, it's a hard habit to break. I had decided that once we got potty training down pat (a work in progress and the topic Thursday's blog) we'd tackle the Binky Situation. However, I have kept my eyes open for good suggestions on how to break the habit, once the time comes.

A few of the many:

• Attach it to a balloon and release it (All Binkies Go to Heaven?)
• Hang them on a Binky Tree
• "Donate" them to a baby who doesn't have a binky
• If given the opportunity, pretend it was lost
• Trade it for a much wanted toy

For at least a year now, I have refused to replace her now chewed and broken binkies, in hopes that she'd give them up on her own - no luck. Up until this morning there were three of them in the house. Now there are two. 

This morning, after Angie went potty, green binky fell out of her mouth as she was flushing the toilet. Whoops! She immediately started lamenting its loss, "Binky!" she yelled plaintively down the toilet after it. I looked, gone. Poor kid. 

It was all I could do not to laugh. #meanmommy

Now I'm secretly plotting the demise of the other two... 

I figure if they meet with some tragic fate, right before her eyes, maybe she'll be more accepting. After her crying fit this morning, she said "Oh well," and later mentioned that green binky was gone now when I picked her up from school. (There's hope!)

In other news, did you know that it's against the law for 4 year olds to have a binky? (Plan B) True story... 

E is for Ecstatic and Ew

I have been trying to find the perfect "E" word all day. Most of the suggestions I've received are far too expressive or energetic for my energy levels today. Others were eccentric, egotistical or euphoric. After starting E is for Ew, E is for Expressions, E is for Exhausted and E is for Words that Contain E, but don't start with E, I decided to combine them into one Extravaganza - or, you know, entry.

After three and a half years, I am ecstatic that Angie has finally decided to potty train. We'd almost given up hope and had determined that the silver lining to investing in Pull-Ups and (later) Depends for the rest of our lives would pay off when she got to high school and the boys wouldn't date her. I mean, no one wants to date the girl who wets herself, picks her nose, farts a lot and eats dog food, right? After careful deliberation, Lenny and I determined that we were ok with that.

But, in one last attempt, I bribed her. Yes, I had to bribe her - and it worked! Sort of... I bought several small presents - Pez dispensers, plastic jewelry, crayons, coloring books, stick on tattoos, etc. Pink presents were for successfully peeing on the potty. Purple presents for pooping on the potty. It has been about a month now. All of the pink presents are long gone, but we still have several of the purple ones...

Which brings us to Ew... I always have to laugh when people who don't have children (but are about to) tell me how squeamish they are. Parenthood is not for sissies, and if you are a sissy or squeamish - well, you won't be for too long after they're born. Between diaper changes, snotty noses and instinctively cupping your hands to catch projectile vomit at 2 a.m., it doesn't take long.

Anyways, back to Ew, Angie still isn't comfortable pooping on the potty. I have no idea why. I make up pooping songs. I assure her that not only does everyone poop, but that it's fun. I have begged, cajoled, wheedled, offered special Dora popcicles and bribed her, all to no avail. We've had celebrations when she's successfully pooped on the potty, yet she will sneak off to poop in her pants in her closet if given the chance. I don't get it, but... well... Ew.

A is for Angie!

I am the proud mother of a three and a half year old little monster. Her name is Angie.

If you don't have a kid, let me tell you... you're missing out on some interesting conversations.

A few weeks ago we were driving to school/work and she asks me "Mommy, are we here yet?"

"No baby, we're not... uh..."

"We're not here?"

"Yes, we're here..."

"Oh... good"

Obviously she got the best of me in that conversation.

Then there are the silly songs we all make up... like the Angie Song sung to the tune of that Copa Cabana song... Ok, ok, stop begging... I'll share it... [really, you're just embarrassing us both]

"Her name was Angie, Angie LaPlaca. She's the cutest kid on the block-a. She needs smack-bottoms... on her little butt. She is so cute, and she's really a hoot, her name is Angie... Angie LaPlaca!"

OK, so obviously having children can make you a little crazy. [See, now if I had the ability to do strikeout text I'd modify that sentence a bit...]. That's probably why I could have done a post entitled A is for Alcohol! Stay tuned for M is for Margaritas! :)

Motherhood is HARD

I have a few friends who are great examples of the quintessential mother.

They LOVE being a mom.

It fulfills them like nothing else ever has.

They weren't complete until they were mothers.

I am not one of those mothers. I'm here to tell you, Motherhood is HARD.

No one ever warned me how hard it would be. And you know, that's not easy to admit. There's a certain pressure to be that quintessential mother. To selflessly give up whomever you used to be to become simply "Mom". This has not been an easy transition for me.

Maybe it's because I was 36 by the time I had Angie. This wasn't on purpose mind you, fate just determined that she wasn't going to make an appearance before then. And it's not to suggest that I don't love my daughter - far from it. But by 36 I was selfish - selfish about my time, selfish about what I want to do, selfish about life in general.

Selfish, selfish, selfish!

Couple that with the fact that I've never really been around kids my entire life, and sometimes I'm just not sure what I'm doing.

At the end of one particularly rough evening, I told my husband "If I felt like this much of a failure at anything else I was trying to do, I would have given up by now." I cried myself to sleep that night, and many others before and after it.

But you can't give up, all you can do is pray you're not screwing your kid up, realize that tomorrow is a new day and keep pushing forward.

Don't get me wrong, I don't regret being a mom, I just struggle with it sometimes. Slowly I've come to realize that I shouldn't be ashamed about it and that perhaps I'm not alone. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of my struggle in another mother's eyes and it brings me some small comfort.

Sorry, my Super Mom friends, but sometimes your superness is a bit daunting for us mere mortal moms. Oh we smile and nod when you wax poetically about how motherhood has completed you, but give us some credit for not pinning you to the floor until you admit that sometimes, sometimes you miss being just you for even a few minutes.

But there's hope! Over the past few weeks we've been slowly growing out of the terrible threes and Angie has been showing a much calmer side. We actually almost have conversations now. I'm certain she's brilliant and probably has a sarcastic wit she's just now testing out.

Take the ride into school/work on Friday for instance. From the backseat Angie asks "Mom, are we here yet"?

"No, we're not... uh..."

"We're not here?"

"Yes... we're here."

"Oh."

She also cheats at Candy Land if you're not paying attention. Plays games like Angry Birds, Cut the Rope, The Moron Test and (of all things) Monopoly on my iPad, better than many of the adults I know. Did I mention that she's just three and a half?

I am looking increasingly forward to the future with her. The last half of the twos and the first half of the threes have been particularly hard, but things are definitely looking up. She asks me almost daily "Mommy, are you my friend?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I am your friend. I am your best friend."

Until she gets mad at me, and then it's "You're not my friend!"

That's when I look Angie straight in the eye and say "remember, you picked me."

So, if you're a new mother, or contemplating motherhood, all I can tell you is that Motherhood is HARD. Someone should admit that to you. When they say that motherhood is the toughest job you'll ever love, that's not just a cute saying, it's true. And while I don't love motherhood 100% of the time, I love her 1,000% of the time. It's what keeps me pushing forward each day as Angie and I try to figure this thing out together. Sure, I'm selfish, but I can't imagine my life without her in it.

Look at that smile. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Binky Addiction - the sucky truth

Binky addiction is real, my friends.

As shown here, a young victim of binky addiction succumbs to its power.

Whatever will become of her?

My child suffers from this addiction. While binky privileges are currently limited to nap time and bed time, she exhibits all the signs of a little addict.

I swear! She'll be playing quietly in her room and if you look in on her she's fished her binky out of the bed and is quietly sucking on it. The moment she realizes you're there she either opens her mouth and lets it drop out or she palms it. One day I held out my hand and she guiltily handed the binky over. I turned to leave and the child pulled another binky out from under her leg and went to pop it in her mouth!

I've also caught her pulling the binky out, giving it a few quick sucks and sliding it back under the covers on her bed, her furtive movements akin to smokers sneaking a cigarette.

Now we've gotten a certain amount of flack from Lenny's dad on the topic and I know others look down on it, but I think she's slowly breaking the addiction. I hear that she falls to sleep without it at school (little brat), so I now know that she really CAN fall asleep without it.

It's a hard habit for both of us to break tho, when I can say "Angie, it's time for a nap" and it's like I never said anything, but if I follow up with "you can have binky" she immediately drops what she's doing and runs for her room.

So, I guess that makes me an enabler. That's ok, it could be worse... I recently read an article about aging hippies/baby boomers hitting up their grown kids for pot connections. In my current worst case scenario Angie will be in high school sucking on a binky and the boys will all avoid her - and hey, I can live with that! So can her father who often says "she can date when I'm dead." :)

You know... any time you brag...

So I brag about my daughter if given the slightest provocation. Shocking news, I know.

Yesterday my boss' boss asked me how Angie was doing and I happily told him that she can count forward and backward from 1-20 in English and had taught herself to count from 1 - 10 in Spanish. (I've actually since found that she can count higher than that in Spanish, actually). (See? There I go again...).

Angie counts all the time and, as I told him, realizes that one, two, three... mean the same thing as uno, dos, tres... because she was counting the eyelets on my shoes Sunday night in Spanish.

She's so smart!

Well it never fails, as soon as I brag about her she does something that leaves me wondering. LOL

Monday night as I was making dinner I look over to see Angie dunk her face/head in the dog's water bowl. Then she looks up, face and hair dripping with water, as if she's confused about why she's now all wet. It was hilarious.

So, maybe she won't start college at five. Maybe when she's six!

Spoil Your Children!

As perhaps any woman who has borne a child can tell you, as soon as you announce your pregnancy you are immediately bombarded with “helpful” advice from seemingly everyone. The wealth of information is incredible, and often conflicting. With advice of doctors, books, friends, parents and absolute strangers, it can be hard to determine whose advice to follow; not to mention that common child-rearing practices may have changed since your own parents raised you.

For example, it was common practice, and highly recommended, that babies be laid on their tummies to sleep at night during the seventies when I was born. Today this practice is strongly discouraged because it puts a child at increased risk of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome – commonly known as SIDS. The safest position for an infant to sleep is laid on her back (Murkoff, Eisenberg and Hathaway B.S.N. 150). This however may be the exact opposite of what your own parents may have done with you as a child and may not make much sense to them.

So in addition to conflicting advice we have other people’s own experiences and practices that worked perfectly well for them. Any woman who has had a child, no matter when, may consider herself an expert on the topic. She lived through it after all, and who’s to say that she’s wrong? Certainly not I. Certainly not you either, if you know what’s good for you. My best advice on this topic is to smile and nod, and file the well-intentioned advice away mentally in case you might need it someday.

Perhaps the most commonly given advice with infants is “don’t pick the baby up every time it cries or you’ll spoil it.” I will begin by pointing out that this advice is not found in reference books, but passed on from others who are convinced that it’s true. For example my sister-in-law, mother of three, repeatedly offered this advice to my husband, who in turn passed it on to me. In fact it is my experience that this advice is offered routinely by people who have had children of their own.

What do the experts say? Overwhelmingly the consensus is that you should always attend to a crying baby (Lees, Reynolds and McCartan 214). A study at the University of Turku found that “more-sensitive mothers had more-contented infants” (Howard) which also led to less crying in the end. Babycenter.com suggests that there are seven reasons why babies cry, including a desire to be held, (Babycenter.com) but that it is impossible to spoil an infant by holding her when she cries.

This brings me to the best advice I received before or after my own daughter was born, and pretty much the only advice I myself pass along. Out of the dozens, if not hundreds, of tidbits shared with me, this one arrived in an innocuous e-mail from Babycenter.com entitled “Your 2-month old: Week 3”. Within the email was a quote from a forum board hosted by the website that read:

“My son likes to be carried around all the time. Whenever I get tired of holding him, I try to remember that a year from now he's going to be squirming to get out of my arms — and I'm going to miss these days!’, Kelly”.

While not offered specifically as advice, it was the best argument I’d seen on the topic and brought an immediate end, in my mind, to any discussions to the contrary.

Many of the sources I have read, and referenced above, suggest that an infant child is incapable of coercion or purposely manipulating the actions of their parents. While an older child, or even an adult, might cry simply to get sympathy or what they want, an infant’s thought processes are not yet that complex. In her article, Barbara Howard went on to suggest that perhaps the advice not to pick up a child every time it cries is offered is to assuage the advice-bearer’s own guilt at not being as attentive with their own children (Howard).

Taken to an extreme, yet related and very interesting, is an experiment conducted by Fredrick II, emperor of Germany in the early 13th century.

He bade foster mothers and nurses to suckle the children, to bathe and wash them, but in no way to prattle with them, for he wanted to learn whether they would speak the Hebrew language, which was the oldest, or Greek, or Latin, or Arabic, or perhaps the language of their parents, of whom they had been born. But he labored in vain because all the children died. For they could not live without the petting and joyful faces and loving words of their foster mothers (Adler and Proctor II).

This is not to suggest that the results of not picking up a crying child would be so dire, but to point out that human contact, with a child especially, is paramount. Humans are social creatures and infants especially need coddling. It is important that a child, helpless in almost every way, knows that their parents will tend to them and their needs.

I also do not suggest that a parent should rush to their child every time it cries. So long as the baby is safe from danger, she’ll not die from crying. A seemingly inconsolable infant can be very trying on new parents and sometimes not tending to the child immediately may be best for all.

However, I do suggest that no one should ever be made to feel guilty or like a bad parent if they choose to pick up their baby and coddle it when it cries. Now that my daughter is 21 months old I know Kelly, whoever she is, was absolutely correct in what she said. Angelina is much too busy to let mom hold her for very long these days and I do not regret one moment of the times I picked her up and “spoiled her.”

Works Cited
Adler, Ronald B. and Russell F. Proctor II. Looking Out/Looking In, Twelfth Edition. Thomson Learing, Inc., 2007.
Babycenter.com. "Seven reasons babies cry and how to soothe them." November 2006. Babycenter.com. 4 April 2009 .
Howard, Barbara. "Are you spoiling your baby?" February 2005. Parents.com. 4 April 2009 .
Lees, MD, Christoph, MD, Karina Reynolds and Grainne McCartan. Pregancy and Birth: your questions answered. DK Publishing, Inc., 2002.
Murkoff, Heidi, Arlene Eisenberg and Sandee Hathaway B.S.N. What to expect the first year. New York: Workman Publishing, 2003.

The first step towards potty training?

After her bath tonight, Angie was doing her usual STREAKER run through the house while I cleaned up the bathroom. I went into her room to dump off her dirty laundry and she waddled back into the bathroom. I came in just in time to see her standing right next to the toilet, peeing on the floor. I was too startled to really react. I picked her up, hosed her off in the tub and cleaned the floor as she streaked the house again.

When Lenny came in from playing in the garage I mentioned it to him and told him I really didn't know what to think or what that meant. He said he knew. I looked at him curiously and he told me that earlier today she had walked into the bathroom on him while he was going to the bathroom (she can reach the handle and open the door - privacy has no meaning to a 19month old). She'd stood there and watched him and he was helpless to do anything else until he was done peeing.

So... one wonders if she was trying to emulate daddy. She's certainly walked in on me several times, but then with girls it's a bit harder to tell what's going on. On the bright side, maybe there's an end to diapers in my future?

The Ranch Dressing Incident

Wow, has it really been that long since I posted? Time sure does fly!

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanuka and Happy New Year!

So what is the ranch dressing incident? Well, a few weeks back on a lazy Friday night when no one wanted to cook we went to KFC for dinner. Shame on me, I know... very un-diety eh? So anyway, Angie wasn't very excited about dinner, but did amuse herself playing with packet of ranch dressing while we finished our meal. I didn't pay it too much mind, nor did I think much about it when we got in the car to go home.

In the pitch dark of the car, about three miles or so down the highway on the way home I heard a distinct "POP", but I wasn't sure what it was. Angie was quietly amusing herself while Lenny and I talked in the front seat. All was well in the world.

Then about two minutes later the strong scent of Ranch dressing wafted to the front of the car from the back seat and my mind quickly put two and two together. I turned on the overhead light and sure enough, there was Angie (and her carseat) covered in Ranch dressing! She was merrily rubbing it all over her hands like an expensive skin lotion and didn't look at all displeased. I quickly snagged the then empty Ranch packet from here, but really it was too late.

Mommy's Little Monster :)