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De-vacationing

We recently got back from vacation and have been working on reprogramming our son. You know how easy it is as adults to get out of your regular daily routine when you are on a trip, especially a 10 day one. Well it seems that for my 3 year old it was pretty easy too. As much as we tried to keep him on some what of a schedule it just didn’t happen. He got way too little sleep, way too many snacks, and enough iPad time for the next month.

The sleeping thing was pretty easy to fix. For the first week, his naps were just incredibly long…which I was quite okay with!

The iPad has been a little more challenging just because he is constantly asking to watch it and when I say no, he whines (insert “Sandlot” quote here) F-O-R-E-V-E-R.

The snacking issue has been by far the hardest to correct. And as I look back through vacation pictures I’m not sure why…

IMG_9780 EDITChocolate pastry with cream filling, strawberries and whipped cream in the middle of lunch at one of our favorite mom and pop bistros in Indiana.

IMG_9802 EDITSugary lemonade mid-morning treat before we hit the park in Michigan.

IMG_9915 EDITTortilla wrapped churro for breakfast in Chicago.

*I would just like to clarify, the churro was supposed to be eaten after the breakfast burrito. The breakfast burrito was not supposed to be dismantled and only the shell eaten.

Soooooo, I may be a little to blame for the snacking problem.

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“Does that make you sad?”

Well he’s three. I can’t believe it. Where have the last three years gone. It’s been like the blink of an eye. Three is half way to six which means kindergarten. And 6 more mean he’s almost a teenager.  Add 6 more to that and he’ll be off to college…

I’d rather not think about that now. 

Just the other day I called him “my baby” and his response was so quick and so matter of fact, “I’m not a baby, mom. I’m a big boy. Does that make you sad?”

I thought to myself, yes. Yes, it does. The thought must have shown on my face because just as matter of factly he said, “It’s okay mom, I will be your baby next week.”

I’ve decided, whether he likes it or not, he’s going to be my baby forever. 

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The Paper Cut

This is no joke. This single sided conversation played out by my son, lasted approximately 10 minutes. 

It all began while we were coloring in his new dinosaur coloring book yesterday afternoon. He turned the page and suddenly got quiet. I watched him as he examined the inside of his thumb. I finally asked what happened and he responded, “I got a boobie.” This is, by the way, how he says boo boo. I looked at his hand and explained to him that he had gotten a paper cut. I then proceeded to ask him if he needed me to kiss it. He looked at me and said, “No. It was not your fault mommy, it was my fault. I will kiss it.” 

Since my boo boo kissing services are apparently no longer needed I continued to color, while he continued to talk…

“Paper cuts are not the best.”

“It’s getting better.”

“Paper cuts are terrible.”

“It was my fault.”

“Paper cuts are the worst.”

“It’s getting better.”

“It’s getting back to my finger…oops, my thumb.”

“It’s getter better, but not too really.”

“Let me see if I can run.”

“I can run fast.”

“I can run fast, mom.”

“I okay now.”

“It is okay now.”

“Let me see if I can run fast.”

“Paper cuts are not too good.”

I must say if, “paper cuts are the worst” I am very concerned about our future.

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Dino mania


Life in our house the last few weeks has somehow been fairly busy, though I am not really sure with what. My son is growing like a weed and next week will be 3, which I am having a hard time believing. He is as ornery as ever and still not sleeping. I don’t know how one little boy can have so much energy with so little sleep. He is obsessed with dinosaurs and every waking minute, which is a lot, is spent looking at them, reciting names, determining how they fight, what they eat, how long they are, how much they weigh, and any other possible facts we can discover. I think my favorite part of the dino obsession is listening to him say their names; parasaurolophus is the best! 

We have accumulated everything dinosaur from figurines and stuffed animals to shirts and pajamas to dinosaur egg oatmeal and fruit snacks. We have watched every dinosaur show and movie that PBS and Netflix offer; The Land Before Time…1 and 2, Dinotrux, The Good Dinosaur, Dinosaur Train, Dinotopia…you get the point. I’m not sure if this dino obsession will end anytime soon but there are definitely worse things that could consume our time…and I’m learning quite a bit. 

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Torti…what?

My misery all began on Tuesday. I asked my son if he had picked up all his toys. He responded, “yes!” It was a lie and I knew it was a lie.  One of the things I don’t tolerate in life is a liar. So I quickly picked my son up and placed him on the stairs in timeout. I explained to him what a lie was and why we always, always tell the truth. He cried a little but it wasn’t until I walked away that he really started to wail. And the reason, he wanted me to stay with him. I hollered back something along the lines of, “timeout is not supposed to be fun and no I will not come sit with you.” On any normal day, he would stop crying and instantly apologize in hopes of getting out of timeout. But not today. He continued to throw a fit. I decided the stairs was no longer the best option for him, he needed to be in his bedroom. I briskly walked to the stairs, yanked my son up, and simultaneously gave myself the worst crick in my neck I’ve ever experienced. It took every ounce of my being not to drop my almost three year old child down the stairs. And not because I was frustrated with him but because I was in so much pain. I plopped him on his bed, closed the door, and immediately fell into my own bed. The pain was also down my arm and I was certain I was having a heart attack. (I am joking a little here but was really starting to wonder.) As I continued to writhe in physical pain, my son continued to writhe in emotional pain.

My son eventually got over his fit and I eventually was able to pull myself out of bed. The pain was more than what I’ve ever had with a stiff neck, so I decided to see a chiropractor, which I’ve only done one other time in my life. The second I walked through the door, the lady took one look at me and said some medical term which I was not familiar with. It sounded slightly like “Portokalos” which is the last name of the character from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, so I’m guessing that wasn’t it. She also said I was going to need therapy which I didn’t really understand either. She called me back to a room that I can only describe as a massage room. The lights were dim, there was the faint sound of a waterfall, and a massage table in the middle. What, therapy equals massage?! I’ll take it. I definitely was in significant pain, but I knew my son was napping at home with Daddy…so if the doctor recommends a massage for Mama…Mama’s going to get a massage. Wow, I could not be more wrong! By massage, they really meant the most miserable 30 minutes of your life. I am still uncertain how one little lady had the strength of Hercules in her hands. Oh…and on a side note, do you have any idea how unattractive your face looks through the hole of the head rest on a massage table? Especially when you don’t have a prominent chin to start with and when you are constantly wincing with pain. Let’s just say, I’m glad no one could capture that moment. You know it’s not a pleasurable massage when the therapist is saying, “Good job. You’re doing great. Almost done.” Once the 30 minutes of torture was up, that medical term came up again. This time it sounded slightly like “tortoise collar” which had the possibility of being something real, but I was too embarrassed to ask.

Upon leaving I immediately had to get to the bottom of this term. I quickly figured out they were calling my condition “torticollis” which I think is just a fancy term for stiff neck. After three $70 painful trips to the chiropractor, I’m thinking of renaming this condition “torture costly” for obvious reasons. Regardless of what you call it, I just call it misery. And all because my son lied about picking up some silly toys.

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Eat it or wear it

I remember my grandpa saying this all the time when we were little. Now I don’t really remember anyone ever having to wear it, but I don’t think we ever wanted to find out. I found myself repeating this threat to my son last night at dinner. My husband looked at me puzzled, his grandpa obviously never threatened to take him into the bathtub and pour his uneaten food over his head. He had to verify that this was a true statement. After a number of texts from my mom and uncles, it was decided. This was my grandpa’s go to threat about uneaten food, however, no one was able to verify that the “wear it” part ever happened. We did get verification that my great uncle Ed used to take his children’s uneaten food and put it in the blender with milk, puree it and then make them drink it. It didn’t matter whether it was a cheeseburger or spaghetti…yummy!? (Please sense the sarcasm.)

This morning my son begged for oatmeal and toast for breakfast. While this is a fairly healthy and substantial breakfast, I was hesitant. He has gotten in a bad habit of asking for it and then not eating it, and quite frankly, I’m tired of his wastefulness. Against my better judgement I went ahead and made him oatmeal and toast, but I made a point of letting him know that he needed to eat it all. He finished off his toast very quickly and about a third of his oatmeal before he said his tummy was full. I reminded him that he needed to eat his oatmeal, wasting it was not an option. He once again told me that he was done. I began to contemplate taking him upstairs to the bathtub and dumping the oatmeal on his head, but quickly considered the implications of an oatmeal clogged drain. My mind quickly turned to the kitchen sink, it is large enough and has a garbage disposal, but quickly realized the cleanup that would be required. My next thought raced to the series of text from last night and my great uncle Ed’s brainchild.

Eat it or wear it

I offered the oatmeal to my son once more, and once more he turned it down. I took the oatmeal into the kitchen and pulled out the blender. I grabbed some yogurt, almond milk, and a half eaten banana that was on the counter. I threw it together and pureed away. I felt slightly bad about what I was doing but my son needs to learn. At that very moment, I looked over to see my son sitting on the kitchen counter drinking dirty water out of the sink. He is so gross. I then looked back at the blender and the delicious smoothie I had just created for him and realized no lesson was going to be learned today. If he’ll drink dirty dishwater, pureed oatmeal isn’t going to faze him.

Eat it or wear it 2

 

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“You have to be patient”

Patience is a virtue. It is hard to teach and many times hard to practice, especially as a parent to a toddler. I talk to my son about patience a lot. His response is usually, “I not like patient.” And as much as I think he isn’t listening or paying attention to the things we talk about, I am proved wrong.

Just the other day at bedtime, I asked him to head upstairs. He informed me that he wasn’t done playing. I explained to him that the timer went off and regardless of whether he was done or not it was bedtime and he could finish playing in the morning. I could tell that he was getting frustrated, but instead of crying and throwing a fit he simply looked at me and said, “you have to be patient, mom.”

Well played my son, well played.

This morning our pup was feeling frisky and in need of some attention. And since I was trying to fold the mounds of laundry that accumulated over the weekend, I asked my son to get a ball and play with her. He said, “ok” but continued playing with his marbles. I waited a minute longer but all the while my pup continued to paw at my leg. So I asked again for him to get her a ball. This time his response was, “she need to be patient, I not done.”

Once again, touché. Just try explaining that to the dog.

Not only is my son listening, he is also applying the things that he has learned. As a teacher I am very happy. As a parent I am just annoyed.

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I need a second child

And I need one ASAP.

And I need her to be 3 1/2.

Sunday night my son and my niece had their first cousin sleepover. It was held at our house because I wouldn’t put anyone through a night with my son while he is in the midst of his “sleep regression.” I wasn’t sure what to expect when I left the room where they were supposed to be sleeping. It was definitely past both of their bedtimes and they were still bouncing off the walls and giggling like crazy. After a few more trips into the room after being summoned, there wasn’t a peep. My husband and I waited a bit longer and went to bed ourselves.

I guess my sleep cycle has synced with my son’s because, like clockwork I woke up when he normally does, but he wasn’t at my bedside. I looked at the monitor and saw my niece sleeping peacefully and my son playing with his socks. I waited and watched and he eventually grabbed his blanket and cuddled up next to her and went back to sleep.

What? Can this really be happening? I tried to go back to sleep myself but was so baffled by what I had seen, I couldn’t. About an hour later I heard rustling again, I looked at the monitor and saw my niece sleeping peacefully and my son sitting straight up in bed. I waited again and again he found his blanket and again cuddled up next to his cousin.

Seriously, what is going on? Am I dreaming or is my son really putting himself back to sleep? Once I was certain he was sleeping the magical sleeping fairy came to visit. I was finally able to doze back off and was awoken at 6 by my niece hollering my name. Her prize from the sleep fairy had made its way from underneath her pillow and had woken her up. I took it from her and asked if they were still tired. To my surprise, both of them rolled back over and fell asleep again for another hour.

Once they woke up for real, their eyes lit up when they saw their prizes. That was all I needed, one night for my son to see the sleep fairy is really real. Well…at least that was what I thought. Sadly, my niece had to go home and my son regressed back to his old ways waking up and coming into my room 3 different times last night.

Since I can’t give birth to a 3 1/2 year old second child and I’m pretty sure my brother and sister-in-law want to keep their daughter, I am accepting applications for nighttime cuddlers for my son.

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Poor little punk

It’s hard to say I feel sorry for my little punk of a son considering he has not slept a full night since before Thanksgiving. And yes, my son is old enough that he should be sleeping all night. And yes, I am definitely at the point where I will do anything to get a full night sleep myself.

You know I like to research things, so when my son stopped sleeping I started researching. I discovered a little thing people like to call “sleep regression” which is supposedly common in toddlers. Is this really a thing? Or is it just a name for bad sleepers so parents have something to blame? Either way, my research led me to a few books.

First, we tried this new magical rabbit sleep book. It promises to put any child to sleep. I don’t know how it didn’t work on my son because it almost put me to sleep just reading it. I’m not sure if the goal of the book is to brainwash or bore the child to sleep. I gave it a shot for a few nights but found myself dreading to read it and my son fake yawning the whole way through. Obviously not a keeper.

Next, I switched to a book about a magical sleep fairy who leaves prizes under the pillows of children who stay in their beds all night. My son was giddy just reading this book. We have bribed him a thousand times before, but this was different. He was so excited about this sleep fairy that he wanted to sleep with the book underneath his pillow. After I left his room, I scrounged up a plethora of prizes. With his amount of excitement, I was anticipating my first full night of sleep in months and I was ready to not put just one prize under his pillow but to cover his bed with them. I even set an alarm to place the prizes. Wishful thinking. He was up, like clockwork, at 1:00 and then again at 3:00. In the morning when I peeked into his bedroom I saw that he had thrown his pillow on the floor in hopes of finding something underneath it, but all that was there was the book he’d placed there the night before. I don’t know why this makes me so sad, especially after all the miserable nights he’s put me through, but I can just imagine his disappointment when he didn’t find any special prizes. Sometimes I don’t even think he realizes that he gets up in the middle of the night. And like he told me the other day, “I not know why I not sleep, mommy.” Since I’m a sucker and felt bad for him, I typed up a note from this magical sleep fairy, placed it on fun paper, laminated it, and stuck it inside the book. The gist of the note was, “I came, you didn’t sleep, let’s try again.” We will see.

Tonight we read a book about wanting to sleep in mommy’s bed. He giggled every time I told him the title. I’m not sure this particular book will be very helpful but it’s worth a shot. I’m still holding out hope for the thought of this magical sleep fairy to do the trick. My last resort is a book about nighttime fears, which my child complains of frequently. It has yet to arrive, but once it comes I’m sure I’ll have some updates. Wish me luck!

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“Put a nice hair clip in”

I’m not sure why, but my son hates my hair being down. It could possibly be that in his short 2 1/2 years of life, I have had it pulled back or in a ponytail 90% of the time. Anyway, anytime that it is down he begs me to put it in a hair clip and luckily for him I prefer it out of my face. My hair is curly and at times a bit unruly, but my son just refers to it as “crazy hair.” On numerous occasions, he will bring down from my bathroom either a hair clip or a hair tie and ask tell me to, “put your hair up.”

I had just put my son down for a nap and before I left his room I said, “have a nice nap” and his response was, “put a nice hair clip in.”

After I left his room, I looked in the mirror. It definitely wasn’t my best hair day, but I didn’t need a 2 year old telling me that. If you have curly hair you know what I am talking about, your hair decides what it’s going to do, you do not. To much of my dismay I pulled back the sides and put a nice hairclip in.

At what point am I going to break it to my son that he got his “crazy hair” from his mama?

IMG_7516 EDIT