Yesterday was a busy party day. First, we had a lunch holiday party at work for which I volunteered to make my quiche.
Then as we were dropping Ivan at daycare on Wednesday, we learned that daycare was having a holiday party for kids and parents between 11:30-1 p.m., in other words, the most inconvenient middle of the day time. And if we wanted to, we could bring something too, the invitation read.
So we pondered. Should we go or not? Do other parents go? The timing was kind of inconvenient, etc... Will Ivan be more upset when he sees us come and leave him? Or would be he more upset if he sees other parents but not his own.
In the end we decided to go. I also decided to make lemon cupcakes, a recipe from my baking book. It was the first time I was going to make these cupcakes (although as I'm beginning to notice, all these cookies, muffins, cupcakes and cakes appear to be variations on the same butter, sugar, flour and egg theme.). So on Wednesday night, I cooked and baked, both the quiche and the cupcakes. They both turned out surprisingly well, the cupcakes at least. I found them rather tasty. The quiche I didn't get to taste because I skipped my work party in favor of Mr. Meh's daycare gig, but by the time I returned to work, the quiche platter was empty, so I assume people found it tasty.
I was glad we went to Ivan's party. All other parents showed up as well. (This was one of our concerns. Do parents really show up, or ignore the invite because of the party's inconvenient timing. Maybe, it's just me, the selfish one, who works far and for whom this presented a conundrum. Who knows.)
The party was fun. Ivan was thrilled to see us. I arrived first (luckily for me I had my parents' car so I could schlep myself around.) When I got there most other parents were there mingling with their kids. Ivan was standing by himself next to the bookshelf. He gave me the biggest smile when he saw me.
Then we sat down to eat. He had already half eaten his lunch. But I went to get some lunch. Other people brough food, or maybe it was the daycare ladies who had prepared everything. I don't know. When I left the classroom, Ivan freaked out and followed me to the food tables...and that's when he saw ...the brownies. Several different pans of brownies. To prevent him from touching every single brownie, I put a big one on the plate and we returned to the classroom to eat.
Since he was scarfing down that brownie, I decided to help him out and eat some as well. That way he'll eat less of the brownie. "Wrong thinking, mama!" After he saw me put the last two brownie pieces in my mouth, he said "nem" and proceeded to run out of the room to the brownies stand to get more brownies.
Later, when Andy arrived, he said that Ivan decided to feed him food of his place. Dadda was fed mac and cheese, while Ivan fed himself another brownie.
Later Andy and Ivan shared a cupcake. While we had all ODed on sugar, we had to try the cupcakes. After all I made them.
In terms of the party, it was really nice to see all the kids and their parents and to see the teachers. Jade was there with Isabella. I'm glad we went. It was lots of fun and it gave us a slighly better picture of the daycare. We also talked a bit more with Ms. Yvonne, his teacher. She told us who he likes to play with (Sashi, who's apparently a boy, not a girl like we thought. They should really trim the boy's long tresses; and Erica, a cute little girl.) She also told us he loves to look at the microwave, which is at his eye level. The teacher laughed because she remembered that I told her that he loves appliances.
Then as I was leaving, Ivan started crying and clinging onto me although Andy was with him. But, he had apparently calmed down by the time Andy was about to leave. There were still tears but not the temper tantrumy ones. I have no clue how Ms. Yvonne, the teacher, got the kids to nap after all that sugar.
When Andy went to pick him up in the evening, Ivan was fine. He was playing and wasn't crying. This made us feel better, because taking him to daycare this week was really hard.
On Tuesday, he started crying as soon as we pulled up in front of the building. On Wednesday, he started crying when he saw me pick up his lunch bag in our kitchen, before we even left the house. On Thursday, Andy took him by himself and said he was crying a lot.
So it was good to see daycare in action as it helped us assuage our fears and feelings of guilt for putting Ivan in daycare.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Flannel or Cotton Fleece Jammies, Nonexistent?
Both last winter and now I've searched and searched the web over for some flannel or cotton fleece jammmies for Ivan. Apparently, such things don't exist. All pajamas are either polyester fleece or just plain cotton.
Ivan has some cool cotton jammies from Old Navy, but the problem is that he uncovers himself at night and I'm afraid that he's too cold. Especially on those mornings, when he's managed to take off his socks. His feet and hands are freezing cold when I go to get him.
And my issue with polyester is that I don't like to wear polyester to bed because it's not really breathable and it's uncofortable. I don't care that it's flame resistant. (I actually don't understand the big deal with flame resistant baby sleepwear. Is there really a pandemic of babies being exposed to fire?)
I guess this is a perfect opportunity for me to polish up my rudimentary sewing skills and sew him some flannel jammies to my liking.
Ivan has some cool cotton jammies from Old Navy, but the problem is that he uncovers himself at night and I'm afraid that he's too cold. Especially on those mornings, when he's managed to take off his socks. His feet and hands are freezing cold when I go to get him.
And my issue with polyester is that I don't like to wear polyester to bed because it's not really breathable and it's uncofortable. I don't care that it's flame resistant. (I actually don't understand the big deal with flame resistant baby sleepwear. Is there really a pandemic of babies being exposed to fire?)
I guess this is a perfect opportunity for me to polish up my rudimentary sewing skills and sew him some flannel jammies to my liking.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Vindicated? Grandma; Thanksgiving Clinginess
For Thanksgiving, we went up to Andy's parents house, which has become our tradition of the last few years. We left on Wednesday after work and got back on Friday afternoon.
Ivan fell into deep sleep in the car that I managed to bring him into their house and put him to bed without waking him up. Which was great, except it made me wonder whether he would get freaked out if he woke up in the middle of the night and found himself in new surrounding. Of course, this happened. He woke up around midnight and was inconsolable. Not even "me me, could solve it." We finally brought him into our bed so he'd fall back asleep and then we put him back in his crib. After we repeated this twice, we finally let him sleep with out, until some 5 am when he decided it was time to get up and slid off the bed. This prompted Andy go to and sleep in the other room, where the crib was, with him. This was just as fine, because having the four of us--Andy, myself, Ivan and Mariposa (who always curles up at my feet, taking up too much space)--was too tight for a full size bed.
In the morning, Ivan was fine, as long as I was in the room with him. As soon as I'd leave the room, he'd freak out looking for his mama. He was also rather clingy, more so than usual. In the early morning when I took Mariposa out to pee and put on a jacket and shoes, he cried inconsolably, although he could see me through the door.
Maybe he was afraid that we were going to leave him up in York as we had done on previous two occasions. That, at least, was our hypothesis, because we couldn't figure out what else could be causing such drama.
Otherwise, Thanksgiving was nice and we had a great time. Ivan had a great time playing with his Mimi, Pop, aunts and cousins. Mariposa was excatic that we took her along. She was so exhausted afterwards that she slept two days straight.
On Friday we stopped at my parents house on our way back. Andy and I left the "kids" with my parents while we went to Target to shop. Apparently, there were no tears. There wasn't even a realization that we were gone, although we were away for over one hour.
My mother was in heaven. Why? It was kind of payback for Ivan not wanting to pronounce her name on the wedding photo a few weeks earlier. Even though he identifies Mimi and Pops on a photo, it's Baba he doesn't cry with.
Petty of my mom? Very much so.
Ivan fell into deep sleep in the car that I managed to bring him into their house and put him to bed without waking him up. Which was great, except it made me wonder whether he would get freaked out if he woke up in the middle of the night and found himself in new surrounding. Of course, this happened. He woke up around midnight and was inconsolable. Not even "me me, could solve it." We finally brought him into our bed so he'd fall back asleep and then we put him back in his crib. After we repeated this twice, we finally let him sleep with out, until some 5 am when he decided it was time to get up and slid off the bed. This prompted Andy go to and sleep in the other room, where the crib was, with him. This was just as fine, because having the four of us--Andy, myself, Ivan and Mariposa (who always curles up at my feet, taking up too much space)--was too tight for a full size bed.
In the morning, Ivan was fine, as long as I was in the room with him. As soon as I'd leave the room, he'd freak out looking for his mama. He was also rather clingy, more so than usual. In the early morning when I took Mariposa out to pee and put on a jacket and shoes, he cried inconsolably, although he could see me through the door.
Maybe he was afraid that we were going to leave him up in York as we had done on previous two occasions. That, at least, was our hypothesis, because we couldn't figure out what else could be causing such drama.
Otherwise, Thanksgiving was nice and we had a great time. Ivan had a great time playing with his Mimi, Pop, aunts and cousins. Mariposa was excatic that we took her along. She was so exhausted afterwards that she slept two days straight.
On Friday we stopped at my parents house on our way back. Andy and I left the "kids" with my parents while we went to Target to shop. Apparently, there were no tears. There wasn't even a realization that we were gone, although we were away for over one hour.
My mother was in heaven. Why? It was kind of payback for Ivan not wanting to pronounce her name on the wedding photo a few weeks earlier. Even though he identifies Mimi and Pops on a photo, it's Baba he doesn't cry with.
Petty of my mom? Very much so.
Christmas Tree Still Standing, "Hot, hot"
The tree is still standing.
Mariposa doesn't seem to care for it. Although let's see how she does on a day when she's going to left home alone all day, 'cause that a prime mischief causing time.
Ivan keeps going to it. He points, really touches, the ornaments and says "ball, ball." They as he knows he shouldn't touch the tree, he says "hot, hot." Yet he doesn't desist but continues touching the tree.
Hot, hot has become his shortcut for all things hot, including those that could be hot but aren't, and all those things dangerous.
Since we've picked up on this fact that he uses "hot" for both hot and dangerous, we've been actively trying to install the fear of hot for all the things we don't want him to touch. It still doesn't really prevent him from touching things but we think he does understand the concept.
Two weekends ago when Dora was here with Lorenzo, her three year-old, Lorenzo was somehow throwing himself toward our fireplace and touching it. Ivan, who to my surprise played really nicely with him, got all concerned and kept trying to intervene and say "hot, hot, hot" as if to warn Lorenzo not to go near the fireplace. Ivan was really cute.
Ivan knows the fireplace is hot because on a few occasions that Andy's built a fire, Ivan was very intently following and watching Andy build it.
Mariposa doesn't seem to care for it. Although let's see how she does on a day when she's going to left home alone all day, 'cause that a prime mischief causing time.
Ivan keeps going to it. He points, really touches, the ornaments and says "ball, ball." They as he knows he shouldn't touch the tree, he says "hot, hot." Yet he doesn't desist but continues touching the tree.
Hot, hot has become his shortcut for all things hot, including those that could be hot but aren't, and all those things dangerous.
Since we've picked up on this fact that he uses "hot" for both hot and dangerous, we've been actively trying to install the fear of hot for all the things we don't want him to touch. It still doesn't really prevent him from touching things but we think he does understand the concept.
Two weekends ago when Dora was here with Lorenzo, her three year-old, Lorenzo was somehow throwing himself toward our fireplace and touching it. Ivan, who to my surprise played really nicely with him, got all concerned and kept trying to intervene and say "hot, hot, hot" as if to warn Lorenzo not to go near the fireplace. Ivan was really cute.
Ivan knows the fireplace is hot because on a few occasions that Andy's built a fire, Ivan was very intently following and watching Andy build it.
The Toddler
"The Toddler" sounds like it could be a name of a superaction movie, a horror flick or a comedy. You decide.
In any case, Andy and I realized today and wondered, when did Ivan turn into such a mischivous, scheming little toddler. These changes, transitions seem so subtle as they are occuring that we're not even aware that he's changing. Yet some time over the last 22 months, Ivan transformed from a baby into an infant into a toddler. It's all happened in front of our eyes, yet we've been too blind to notice it.
He's gotten this mischiveous grin and twinkle in his eye, when he want to do something that he know he's not supposed to, or when he's "gotten us" to do something.
And he's definitely pushing and testing our limits daily and in every possible way.
It's almost funny because he knows quite well what he can and can't touch yet he'll repeatedly go up to shouldn't touch, and while he's touching them he'll say "ne, ne" which is no. So he knows but doesn't care.
A funny, yet irritating, thing he was doing today was he realized that if he drops my cell phone on the floor that sometime the battery get disloged (yes, it's a super old cell phone. The model with the external battery has probably long been discontinued.) So he kept throwing the phone on the floor to make the battery come off, which of course I had to put back together. He wouldn't let go of the phone and although I was telling him not to throw the phone again because I would it away, he still kept throwing it.
In the end, I took the phone away, which caused a major temper tantrum.
It was during this temper tantrum minute that Didi came in this morning. So although my dad was so thrilled to see Ivan, and I know he expected Ivan to be thrilled to see him, Ivan was too busy with his temper tantrum to really give Didi any proper welcoming excitement. Mariposa, on the other hand, was jumping up and down and in circles with joy. I felt really bad for Didi.
In any case, Andy and I realized today and wondered, when did Ivan turn into such a mischivous, scheming little toddler. These changes, transitions seem so subtle as they are occuring that we're not even aware that he's changing. Yet some time over the last 22 months, Ivan transformed from a baby into an infant into a toddler. It's all happened in front of our eyes, yet we've been too blind to notice it.
He's gotten this mischiveous grin and twinkle in his eye, when he want to do something that he know he's not supposed to, or when he's "gotten us" to do something.
And he's definitely pushing and testing our limits daily and in every possible way.
It's almost funny because he knows quite well what he can and can't touch yet he'll repeatedly go up to shouldn't touch, and while he's touching them he'll say "ne, ne" which is no. So he knows but doesn't care.
A funny, yet irritating, thing he was doing today was he realized that if he drops my cell phone on the floor that sometime the battery get disloged (yes, it's a super old cell phone. The model with the external battery has probably long been discontinued.) So he kept throwing the phone on the floor to make the battery come off, which of course I had to put back together. He wouldn't let go of the phone and although I was telling him not to throw the phone again because I would it away, he still kept throwing it.
In the end, I took the phone away, which caused a major temper tantrum.
It was during this temper tantrum minute that Didi came in this morning. So although my dad was so thrilled to see Ivan, and I know he expected Ivan to be thrilled to see him, Ivan was too busy with his temper tantrum to really give Didi any proper welcoming excitement. Mariposa, on the other hand, was jumping up and down and in circles with joy. I felt really bad for Didi.
Didi's Back
We kept Ivan from daycare still today. So after one week of daycare, he's spend a week at home. He's still a bit sick, caughing and with a runny nose (if he would just let us wipe it!) .
Today, my dad, "didi" as Ivan calls him came to take care of him. Didi had been in Croatia for a week and a half.
Didi said they had a nice day. It was cold and rainy and miserable outside so it's probably better that Ivan stayed home.
But next Tuesday, it's back to daycare.
Let's see what happens.
Today, my dad, "didi" as Ivan calls him came to take care of him. Didi had been in Croatia for a week and a half.
Didi said they had a nice day. It was cold and rainy and miserable outside so it's probably better that Ivan stayed home.
But next Tuesday, it's back to daycare.
Let's see what happens.
On Top of It, or Just Faking It
Lately I feel like I've become that demographic cliche about which studies and books have been written about and which has been polemicized in the media--can modern women have it all and will that all make them happy. That is can a young (well, if mid-30's is considered young, which it is in most urban professional and social circles) working mom have it all-- children, a loving marriage, a fullfilling career, etc. (Etc stands for hobbies, spare time, volunteering, friends, and other non-work and non-household activities that ought to make one's live multidimentional and fullfilling.)
On paper, I also fit the American Dream demographic. I'm just one child and one white picket fence away from living the American Dream--- a house in the burbs (well, a half a million dollar 60+ year-old falling apart shack), a dog (an obstinate Basset Hound), one child (hopefully soon, one more child will make it the perfect statistical two) and a loving husband. I have a great job working in communications of a large organization working on social causes in the world.
So while on paper this all looks great, why does the reality feel so different?
Why does it feel as if I'm just dabbling on all these things and not fully owning them, succeeding in them? Why does it sometimes feel like I'm a little girl wearing my mom's oversized stiletto shoes (my actual mother has never owned a pair of stilettos; she's a flat shoe kind of woman) pretending to play adult in front of a mirror.
Days often feel like I just rush through them barely skimming the surface moving from one thing to another, not fully delving into any of them, not fully owning any of them, not really having the time for most of these things? And why does it all often feel like it's a stage rehersal, waiting for the real show "when I grow up." Because I am grown up, at least I have all accoutrements of adulthood to show for it.
And why is it that by the time we hit mid 30's, some people see to have achieved adulthood (as defined by me) while others are still pretending, seemingly living under the "when I grow up" auspices. You know, the adults-- successful doctors, lawyers, entepreneurs, etc....who seem to be living the high live, the one where they seem to be in control.
Where does this divergence happens. It is the choice of profession? Heritage, ubpringing and inheritance? One's attitude? Or maybe just pure luck?
Are they really in control or have they just gotten better at faking it?
Around our house, we have a picket fence, but it needs to be painted white. Would this solve the problem?
On paper, I also fit the American Dream demographic. I'm just one child and one white picket fence away from living the American Dream--- a house in the burbs (well, a half a million dollar 60+ year-old falling apart shack), a dog (an obstinate Basset Hound), one child (hopefully soon, one more child will make it the perfect statistical two) and a loving husband. I have a great job working in communications of a large organization working on social causes in the world.
So while on paper this all looks great, why does the reality feel so different?
Why does it feel as if I'm just dabbling on all these things and not fully owning them, succeeding in them? Why does it sometimes feel like I'm a little girl wearing my mom's oversized stiletto shoes (my actual mother has never owned a pair of stilettos; she's a flat shoe kind of woman) pretending to play adult in front of a mirror.
Days often feel like I just rush through them barely skimming the surface moving from one thing to another, not fully delving into any of them, not fully owning any of them, not really having the time for most of these things? And why does it all often feel like it's a stage rehersal, waiting for the real show "when I grow up." Because I am grown up, at least I have all accoutrements of adulthood to show for it.
And why is it that by the time we hit mid 30's, some people see to have achieved adulthood (as defined by me) while others are still pretending, seemingly living under the "when I grow up" auspices. You know, the adults-- successful doctors, lawyers, entepreneurs, etc....who seem to be living the high live, the one where they seem to be in control.
Where does this divergence happens. It is the choice of profession? Heritage, ubpringing and inheritance? One's attitude? Or maybe just pure luck?
Are they really in control or have they just gotten better at faking it?
Around our house, we have a picket fence, but it needs to be painted white. Would this solve the problem?
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Ivan Started Daycare Last week
Ivan started daycare last week.
This weekend we were all sick. Just like I feared.
But to be fair to daycare, even though the first thing I noticed last Monday were daycare snotty noses, I'm not sure whether it was a daycare bug that mowed us all down, myself and Andy included, or whether it was something he caught the previous Sunday at a birthday party, where the health status of some kids seemed rather dubious, or even that Saturday from Dora's son Lorenzo, who came to our house and had a rather ominous cough, which he picked up at his daycare.
So my fear or better to say, real motherhood challenge of caring for a sick child came true. How did I do? How did we do? Not as bad as it could've been. Last Thursday night, when the whole ordeal started, Ivan just couldn't settle down to go to sleep. I knew it was going to be a tough night because he took a long time to fall asleep and was rather restless and fitfull. As feared, he kept waking up during the night, so we finally brought him to our bed. His nose was getting stuffed up and he couldn't breathe well. And it's oddly loud to hear a 22 month-old baby basically snore into your nose. So in other words none of us slept that night.
He slept fine the following nights, except that he kept waking up at 5:15, his usual time, which made it rather difficult considering that we got sick as well so noone was up for getting up at hour. I bribed Ivan with some early morning milk, so he'd sleep a bit longer. Then we took turns getting up early.
The most difficult and annoying part has been Ivan's absolute refusal to let us touch his nose or face so we can wipe the snot down. Andy tried to suction out the snot one day, which went over really bad. Since then, we've tried these slealthy, on the run nose wipes with a lotion-suffused cleanex, which he's gotten rather deft at dogding. Andy also tried cutting his nails, which is usually doable, but this time the nails were off limits as well.
So back to daycare. How did he do?
Last Monday, he and I went to daycare and hung out there for two hours. I sat in a small chair in the back and just observed. Some kids came up to Ivan to check him out, but mostly they didn't care nor did he. He went off to explore a toy kitchen, while other tots sat around for a book time. He wasn't interested. Then as the story hour was dissipating, a little girl, Isabella and a boy Craighton came up to me. The next thing I knew, I was holding armful of plastic fruits and vegetables and foods that they piles into my arms.
It's interesting because in the class, there are apparently only two boys and the rest are girls. Ten kids all together.
On Tuesday, when we dropped him off, he went straight to the play kitchen. Andy and I hung around for a while but he didn't seem to need us. Then we left. He apparently didn't cry. My mom went to pick him up after lunch time. She got there early and observed him eating his lunch on Miss Azi's lap who was feeding him. He seemed fine. He was thrilled to see my mom, though.
On Wednesday, he stayed the whole day. Again he went in without a problem and didn't seem to be bothered when we left. They said he was a bit cranky, crying for mama before nap time. I think in retrospect, he was crying "me, me" for milk, which I carelessly (or maybe on subconsciously on purpose) didn't pack for him. When I went to get him, he was sitting in Miss Azi's lap playing with some toy. He seemed content, but was he happy when he saw me.
On Thursday, however, he cried bloody murder when we got there. We first had problems leaving the house because he was too busy playing, which was indication that the drop off was potentially going to be tough. We also dropped him off much earlier than on previous days. He was there before 8 and was only the third child to be dropped off. But apparently after we left he did fine. Andy went to pick him up. The teacher said he did fine although throuhgout the day, he occasionally cried mama, again, I think this was really "me, me" not mama. He probably wanted his milk bottle so he can gnaw on it, which is his security blanket. And it something I want to break. However, we were told he can no longer bring the little Trader Joe bottled waters because he spills the water all over the place. And we thought he only did that at home.
He goes back to daycare tomorrow. That will be the real test of how he does and what he thinks.
We kept him home today because both andy and I stayed home from work yesterday and today because we've been sick. So although both of us did work throughout the day--thank God for technology--it was actually nice to be hanging out at home, no matter how sick, and kind of kick of the Christmas season.
This weekend we were all sick. Just like I feared.
But to be fair to daycare, even though the first thing I noticed last Monday were daycare snotty noses, I'm not sure whether it was a daycare bug that mowed us all down, myself and Andy included, or whether it was something he caught the previous Sunday at a birthday party, where the health status of some kids seemed rather dubious, or even that Saturday from Dora's son Lorenzo, who came to our house and had a rather ominous cough, which he picked up at his daycare.
So my fear or better to say, real motherhood challenge of caring for a sick child came true. How did I do? How did we do? Not as bad as it could've been. Last Thursday night, when the whole ordeal started, Ivan just couldn't settle down to go to sleep. I knew it was going to be a tough night because he took a long time to fall asleep and was rather restless and fitfull. As feared, he kept waking up during the night, so we finally brought him to our bed. His nose was getting stuffed up and he couldn't breathe well. And it's oddly loud to hear a 22 month-old baby basically snore into your nose. So in other words none of us slept that night.
He slept fine the following nights, except that he kept waking up at 5:15, his usual time, which made it rather difficult considering that we got sick as well so noone was up for getting up at hour. I bribed Ivan with some early morning milk, so he'd sleep a bit longer. Then we took turns getting up early.
The most difficult and annoying part has been Ivan's absolute refusal to let us touch his nose or face so we can wipe the snot down. Andy tried to suction out the snot one day, which went over really bad. Since then, we've tried these slealthy, on the run nose wipes with a lotion-suffused cleanex, which he's gotten rather deft at dogding. Andy also tried cutting his nails, which is usually doable, but this time the nails were off limits as well.
So back to daycare. How did he do?
Last Monday, he and I went to daycare and hung out there for two hours. I sat in a small chair in the back and just observed. Some kids came up to Ivan to check him out, but mostly they didn't care nor did he. He went off to explore a toy kitchen, while other tots sat around for a book time. He wasn't interested. Then as the story hour was dissipating, a little girl, Isabella and a boy Craighton came up to me. The next thing I knew, I was holding armful of plastic fruits and vegetables and foods that they piles into my arms.
It's interesting because in the class, there are apparently only two boys and the rest are girls. Ten kids all together.
On Tuesday, when we dropped him off, he went straight to the play kitchen. Andy and I hung around for a while but he didn't seem to need us. Then we left. He apparently didn't cry. My mom went to pick him up after lunch time. She got there early and observed him eating his lunch on Miss Azi's lap who was feeding him. He seemed fine. He was thrilled to see my mom, though.
On Wednesday, he stayed the whole day. Again he went in without a problem and didn't seem to be bothered when we left. They said he was a bit cranky, crying for mama before nap time. I think in retrospect, he was crying "me, me" for milk, which I carelessly (or maybe on subconsciously on purpose) didn't pack for him. When I went to get him, he was sitting in Miss Azi's lap playing with some toy. He seemed content, but was he happy when he saw me.
On Thursday, however, he cried bloody murder when we got there. We first had problems leaving the house because he was too busy playing, which was indication that the drop off was potentially going to be tough. We also dropped him off much earlier than on previous days. He was there before 8 and was only the third child to be dropped off. But apparently after we left he did fine. Andy went to pick him up. The teacher said he did fine although throuhgout the day, he occasionally cried mama, again, I think this was really "me, me" not mama. He probably wanted his milk bottle so he can gnaw on it, which is his security blanket. And it something I want to break. However, we were told he can no longer bring the little Trader Joe bottled waters because he spills the water all over the place. And we thought he only did that at home.
He goes back to daycare tomorrow. That will be the real test of how he does and what he thinks.
We kept him home today because both andy and I stayed home from work yesterday and today because we've been sick. So although both of us did work throughout the day--thank God for technology--it was actually nice to be hanging out at home, no matter how sick, and kind of kick of the Christmas season.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The Christmas Tree Is Up
After much debate whether to go potted small or chopped medium, Andy decided to go with a medium chopped Christmas Tree after all. Last year we opted for a small potted tree that we put up on the side table, which usually houses his antique- looking radio, CD and record player.
This year we debated which tree to pick. The main question was what are the odds of the tree surviving Christmas intact and in upright position, with no Mariposa barking or eating glass ornaments incidents, and without any conceivable mischiefs by Ivan?
I was a bit surprised when Andy came home with a chopped tree. Let's see what happens. It's all part of Christmas fun.
He did, however, buy a bag of shatter-resistant balls. They're golden, in different sizes and textures. They look nice, not tacky or cheap as one would expect shatter-resistant balls to look. I, however, could not help myself but comment that silver ornaments would look better with blue lights we put up than golden ones.
The tree laid unattended in the gargage for two days, because we had all fallen sick in the meantime (that's another post). This afternoon Andy brought the tree in and placed it in its tree holder. Surprisingly enough it was a rather smooth, clean and needle-free operation.
Ivan was taking a nap during this time. When he woke up, we were curious what was he going to say about the tree. We were expecting many "ooohhhs." But to our disappointment he seemed more concerned about the fact that we moved a lamp to accommodate the tree. He kept pointing to the space where the lap usually stands, saying "da?" His word for light.
He touched the tree, but didn't really care for it. Then we smelled it a bit. Although I wonder whether he could really smell it considering his nose if full of snot.
Mariposa, however, decided on her traditional "who's this intruder and what is he doing here" bark. Fun, fun. fun.
Later, when the branches opened up, we brought out the Christmas paraphenalia, including many strings of "da." Ivan was in "da" heaven. First we tried to prevent him from touching the lights because as he himself knows, the lights are "hot, hot," which to him means both hot and dangerous (ever since he touched the lamp in the back yard), but then when that failed, we had him help us hold and unravel the lights. He was really eager to help. It was cute.
The Christmas lights are blue, my favorite lights color.
Then Andy and I decided to put up a string of piped lights in the arch between the living and dining room. We taped it up with that heavy, duty silver tape. But now a few hours later, the tape gave way and the lights fell down. Oh well.
After Ivan went to bed, as did Andy, who also fell asleep putting Ivan to bed, I've tidied up a bit and decorated the tree. I put up the shatter-resistant ornaments. Mariposa was observing me rather inquisitively. She was probably thinking, "yeah, right, mommy, like that's going to prevent me from chomping on a few."
I usually put up a metal golden Christmas Tree with colorful ornaments on the chest in the dining room, where we normally keep fruit and which is totally in Ivan's hand range and who brings up a piece of fruit when he wants to eat one. This time I opted against it. Too much temptation for Ivan.
I can't wait to see his expression in the morning when he sees the tree decorated with ornaments.
This year we debated which tree to pick. The main question was what are the odds of the tree surviving Christmas intact and in upright position, with no Mariposa barking or eating glass ornaments incidents, and without any conceivable mischiefs by Ivan?
I was a bit surprised when Andy came home with a chopped tree. Let's see what happens. It's all part of Christmas fun.
He did, however, buy a bag of shatter-resistant balls. They're golden, in different sizes and textures. They look nice, not tacky or cheap as one would expect shatter-resistant balls to look. I, however, could not help myself but comment that silver ornaments would look better with blue lights we put up than golden ones.
The tree laid unattended in the gargage for two days, because we had all fallen sick in the meantime (that's another post). This afternoon Andy brought the tree in and placed it in its tree holder. Surprisingly enough it was a rather smooth, clean and needle-free operation.
Ivan was taking a nap during this time. When he woke up, we were curious what was he going to say about the tree. We were expecting many "ooohhhs." But to our disappointment he seemed more concerned about the fact that we moved a lamp to accommodate the tree. He kept pointing to the space where the lap usually stands, saying "da?" His word for light.
He touched the tree, but didn't really care for it. Then we smelled it a bit. Although I wonder whether he could really smell it considering his nose if full of snot.
Mariposa, however, decided on her traditional "who's this intruder and what is he doing here" bark. Fun, fun. fun.
Later, when the branches opened up, we brought out the Christmas paraphenalia, including many strings of "da." Ivan was in "da" heaven. First we tried to prevent him from touching the lights because as he himself knows, the lights are "hot, hot," which to him means both hot and dangerous (ever since he touched the lamp in the back yard), but then when that failed, we had him help us hold and unravel the lights. He was really eager to help. It was cute.
The Christmas lights are blue, my favorite lights color.
Then Andy and I decided to put up a string of piped lights in the arch between the living and dining room. We taped it up with that heavy, duty silver tape. But now a few hours later, the tape gave way and the lights fell down. Oh well.
After Ivan went to bed, as did Andy, who also fell asleep putting Ivan to bed, I've tidied up a bit and decorated the tree. I put up the shatter-resistant ornaments. Mariposa was observing me rather inquisitively. She was probably thinking, "yeah, right, mommy, like that's going to prevent me from chomping on a few."
I usually put up a metal golden Christmas Tree with colorful ornaments on the chest in the dining room, where we normally keep fruit and which is totally in Ivan's hand range and who brings up a piece of fruit when he wants to eat one. This time I opted against it. Too much temptation for Ivan.
I can't wait to see his expression in the morning when he sees the tree decorated with ornaments.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Devastated Grandma
My mom, Ivan and I were looking at a our framed wedding photo, which includes both sets of parents. Despite my profligate picture taking, it's one of the rare framed photos in the house. Occasionally, we (all of us on separate ocassions) look at that photo and tell Ivan who's who. A while back he's started recognizing people in the photo, and as of recently, the first person he points to in that photo is Mimi, or Andy's mom.
She must have made an impression on him, as Andy said. I'm surprised he remembers her considering he's doesn't see Andy's parents that often. He did spend a week alone with them on two separate ocassions--around July 4 and in September--and we've gone up to seem them maybe once a month or so. I didn't think his memory would already be so good.
So this morning he first pointed to Mimi's picture and said Mimi. He wasn't sure who Papi was (Andy's dad) nor would he say his name when I pointed at his likeness in the photo. He identified Dadda without a problem, as he did Didi, Ivan's word for my dad (or Dida--it's a new word we just figured out he knows last week). Neither one of them were present in the room so it was easy for him. But when we asked him where's Mamma instead of pointing to my likeness in the photo, he turned around and pointed at me. when we asked him who's that pointing at my mom's photo, ivan didn't say anything. Nor did he really answer to where Baka (my mom) is. He must have been confused--why would he point to a photo of Mamma or Baka, when we were both standing there with him.
But my mom was hurt. She tried to joke about it, but I could tell it bothered her that Ivan identified his other grandma without a problem, whereas he stalled at the photo of my mom. I found it curious as well, considering that my mom sees him and takes care of him much more and much more often than Andy's mom.
I guess as Andy said, his mom must have made an impression on him.
She must have made an impression on him, as Andy said. I'm surprised he remembers her considering he's doesn't see Andy's parents that often. He did spend a week alone with them on two separate ocassions--around July 4 and in September--and we've gone up to seem them maybe once a month or so. I didn't think his memory would already be so good.
So this morning he first pointed to Mimi's picture and said Mimi. He wasn't sure who Papi was (Andy's dad) nor would he say his name when I pointed at his likeness in the photo. He identified Dadda without a problem, as he did Didi, Ivan's word for my dad (or Dida--it's a new word we just figured out he knows last week). Neither one of them were present in the room so it was easy for him. But when we asked him where's Mamma instead of pointing to my likeness in the photo, he turned around and pointed at me. when we asked him who's that pointing at my mom's photo, ivan didn't say anything. Nor did he really answer to where Baka (my mom) is. He must have been confused--why would he point to a photo of Mamma or Baka, when we were both standing there with him.
But my mom was hurt. She tried to joke about it, but I could tell it bothered her that Ivan identified his other grandma without a problem, whereas he stalled at the photo of my mom. I found it curious as well, considering that my mom sees him and takes care of him much more and much more often than Andy's mom.
I guess as Andy said, his mom must have made an impression on him.
Impending Daycare
Ivan starts day care next week. I‘m actually in denial that it’s already next week. Until I wrote it now, I truly didn’t realize it is so soon. I’m operating on this illusion that Thanksgiving is really a long holiday weekend.
I’m getting cold feet about sending him off. I know I have to and I know it will be good for him in the long run, but I wonder and fear how he will adjust. I fear the adjustment period. I fear the tears and I know there will be some crocodile tears. I don’t want him to feel like we’ve abandoned him. (I know it’s what all parents fear.) The last few weeks, he’s gotten more sensitive than he used to be. He cries “mama, mama” even when I go to the bathroom and close the door. He cries for us when we leave to go to work in the morning, even though he’s left with my parents whom he knows and loves (and for whom he cries when they leave). I know it’s the stage. But starting daycare at this stage will be so more difficult.
I fear how he'll do around other kids. He seems to be rather gentle and likes to explore things on his own. Big, loud groups of kids seem to scare him and intimidate him a bit. He gets serious and frowny instead of being his smiley, playful, performing self. He doesn't really know how to stand up for himself and have his space (as I've seen him in the music class and playground play, about both I yet have to write about).
Then I also fear the morning logistics. Right now, it’s easy. Ivan runs around while we take turns getting dressed and taking care of him. There is no need to get him dressed or ready, which is good, considering that a diaper change can take me up to ½ hour of chasing him around the house. Changing him out of his pajama top into a shirt often doesn't even happen, because I give up after some 15-20 minutes of trying. And now, starting next week, we’ll have to dress him in the morning as well. Not to mention feed him. Not to mention prepare his lunch and all other things he’ll have to take with him (I’m not sure what other things there will be, but I’m sure there will be some.) And not to mention all of us leave the house in a decent time to drop him off at daycare and settle him in and still go to work.
But ultimately what I fear the most is whether I will be able to cut it as a mom. A part of me feels that everything so far has been a rehearsal; if it’s been too easy. I think this because Ivan’s been really healthy. He’s been sick only once (when we ended up in the ER.). He’s never thrown up (except when he gagged on food at Ana’s birthday party). He’s had a slight fever maybe two times. He’s never really had diarrhea. Or any sleepless nights, except for some minor toothaches.
But now he’s bound to get sick in daycare. A bug every week, someone told me. I don’t know if and how I’ll handle this. I know I’ll have to. I can’t not handle it. But I fear how difficult it will be and how capable and sturdy and loving of a mom I will be through all of that.
I also feel sad because this means that Mariposa will be home alone on those days Ivan is at daycare. And that breaks my heart. It’s true that she’s not as rambunctious and playful as she was when she was a puppy but I know that she’s much happier when we’re at home with her, even if she’s napping all day long. Since Ivan’s arrival, we’ve been slowly but surely neglecting her. She doesn’t get as much attention as she used to, she’s walked less than she used to be, and we don’t play with her as much as we used to in the evening. I guess it’s partially a function of us being tired and getting used to her. I guess it’s like any relationship. After the initial fireworks fizzle out, it settles into a comfortable routine. I just hope that she’s living her life to her full doggy potential and that she’s not sad and that she doesn’t feel abandoned because we all adore her.
I’m getting cold feet about sending him off. I know I have to and I know it will be good for him in the long run, but I wonder and fear how he will adjust. I fear the adjustment period. I fear the tears and I know there will be some crocodile tears. I don’t want him to feel like we’ve abandoned him. (I know it’s what all parents fear.) The last few weeks, he’s gotten more sensitive than he used to be. He cries “mama, mama” even when I go to the bathroom and close the door. He cries for us when we leave to go to work in the morning, even though he’s left with my parents whom he knows and loves (and for whom he cries when they leave). I know it’s the stage. But starting daycare at this stage will be so more difficult.
I fear how he'll do around other kids. He seems to be rather gentle and likes to explore things on his own. Big, loud groups of kids seem to scare him and intimidate him a bit. He gets serious and frowny instead of being his smiley, playful, performing self. He doesn't really know how to stand up for himself and have his space (as I've seen him in the music class and playground play, about both I yet have to write about).
Then I also fear the morning logistics. Right now, it’s easy. Ivan runs around while we take turns getting dressed and taking care of him. There is no need to get him dressed or ready, which is good, considering that a diaper change can take me up to ½ hour of chasing him around the house. Changing him out of his pajama top into a shirt often doesn't even happen, because I give up after some 15-20 minutes of trying. And now, starting next week, we’ll have to dress him in the morning as well. Not to mention feed him. Not to mention prepare his lunch and all other things he’ll have to take with him (I’m not sure what other things there will be, but I’m sure there will be some.) And not to mention all of us leave the house in a decent time to drop him off at daycare and settle him in and still go to work.
But ultimately what I fear the most is whether I will be able to cut it as a mom. A part of me feels that everything so far has been a rehearsal; if it’s been too easy. I think this because Ivan’s been really healthy. He’s been sick only once (when we ended up in the ER.). He’s never thrown up (except when he gagged on food at Ana’s birthday party). He’s had a slight fever maybe two times. He’s never really had diarrhea. Or any sleepless nights, except for some minor toothaches.
But now he’s bound to get sick in daycare. A bug every week, someone told me. I don’t know if and how I’ll handle this. I know I’ll have to. I can’t not handle it. But I fear how difficult it will be and how capable and sturdy and loving of a mom I will be through all of that.
I also feel sad because this means that Mariposa will be home alone on those days Ivan is at daycare. And that breaks my heart. It’s true that she’s not as rambunctious and playful as she was when she was a puppy but I know that she’s much happier when we’re at home with her, even if she’s napping all day long. Since Ivan’s arrival, we’ve been slowly but surely neglecting her. She doesn’t get as much attention as she used to, she’s walked less than she used to be, and we don’t play with her as much as we used to in the evening. I guess it’s partially a function of us being tired and getting used to her. I guess it’s like any relationship. After the initial fireworks fizzle out, it settles into a comfortable routine. I just hope that she’s living her life to her full doggy potential and that she’s not sad and that she doesn’t feel abandoned because we all adore her.
New Words
New words
Ivan’s vocabulary and comprehension are definitely increasing. He battles nonstop. And we’re beginning to understand what he’s saying.
Last week, he learned to say “tutu” for turtle. Why he picked out to learn that word, I don’t now. Turtle is not easy to say, nor is “kornjaca,” its Croatian equivalent. He has a stuffed turtle and turtle lamps, but why he honed in on turtle as opposed to other stuffed menagerie, I don’t know.
But he was really cute about it. As soon as my mom comes in, he rushes to the turtle to show her he knows that word. Two days into knowing turtle, he rushed to Andy one morning (he hadn’t seen him for two days prior due to Andy’s work schedule when he went to work and returned home when Ivan was already a sleep).
He also constantly points to “ab, ab, ab” which stands for bus, and “da” which apparently means a light.
For months now, he’s been pointing “avi, avi, avi” when he hears a plane go by.
He’s also learned that “bi” stands for biljka, or plant.
“Pi, pi” is also piti, or drinking, which is a very important concept to tell us. I’m not sure what hungry is. Maybe “am, am.”
Last week he got fascinated with “moo, moo” which stands for moon. As a result of that he’s been pointing to a moon in all his books.
“Ne, ne” has become “nem” for nema or no more.
And most importantly, he’s now aware of peeing. The other day, while he was in diapers he pointed to himself and told me “pee, pee.” I didn’t think anything of it because how could I really tell that he was peeing in his diapers. But then a few days later, while he was naked taking a bath, he looked at me, said “pee, pee” and then peed. I was really proud of him.
:-)
Ivan’s vocabulary and comprehension are definitely increasing. He battles nonstop. And we’re beginning to understand what he’s saying.
Last week, he learned to say “tutu” for turtle. Why he picked out to learn that word, I don’t now. Turtle is not easy to say, nor is “kornjaca,” its Croatian equivalent. He has a stuffed turtle and turtle lamps, but why he honed in on turtle as opposed to other stuffed menagerie, I don’t know.
But he was really cute about it. As soon as my mom comes in, he rushes to the turtle to show her he knows that word. Two days into knowing turtle, he rushed to Andy one morning (he hadn’t seen him for two days prior due to Andy’s work schedule when he went to work and returned home when Ivan was already a sleep).
He also constantly points to “ab, ab, ab” which stands for bus, and “da” which apparently means a light.
For months now, he’s been pointing “avi, avi, avi” when he hears a plane go by.
He’s also learned that “bi” stands for biljka, or plant.
“Pi, pi” is also piti, or drinking, which is a very important concept to tell us. I’m not sure what hungry is. Maybe “am, am.”
Last week he got fascinated with “moo, moo” which stands for moon. As a result of that he’s been pointing to a moon in all his books.
“Ne, ne” has become “nem” for nema or no more.
And most importantly, he’s now aware of peeing. The other day, while he was in diapers he pointed to himself and told me “pee, pee.” I didn’t think anything of it because how could I really tell that he was peeing in his diapers. But then a few days later, while he was naked taking a bath, he looked at me, said “pee, pee” and then peed. I was really proud of him.
:-)
Quiche and Crepes
It’s even way past my bedtime but I’m still up on a Monday night, a work night. Granted it’s a short work week, Thanksgiving week, but still.
I’m up because I’m making my “signature” quiche for the second time tonight. It’s for Andy’s work. They’re each supposed to bring a Thanksgiving dish tomorrow to work. Not that a red-pepper quiche is really standard Thanksgiving fare, but it’s one of the few dishes in my recently discovered baking career that I’ve perfected. Andy got a choice—a quiche, blueberry muffins or a pumpkin pie (which I last made a year ago, so I was relieved that he didn’t chose that one)
I made the quiche earlier tonight, but because I tried to cut corners by using a different dish than the one I usually use, the crust kind of fell in, the quiche top got a bit too brown than it really should be and the dish itself, although dishwasher clean, sports some broiling residue that should’ve really been scrubbed by hand.
In all the times I’ve made variations on this quiche over the last few months, it’s never looked that bad. It tastes just fine, but since presentation is part of the dish as well, I thought I’d give it another shot. So it’s 2 a.m. and I’m waiting for the pie crust to thaw so I can assemble the quiche and bake it.
The only thing is that this new quiche probably won’t taste as sweet as the one I’ve already made because the red pepper I had left didn’t seem as ripe and sweet as the previous one. Oh, well, Andy can decide in the morning.
I’ve made different variations on this quiche theme: it’s always 4 eggs, fat-free cottage cheese and grated parmesan cheese (yes, I could use better cheeses, but these are always readily available and easy), the varying ingredient is sautéed spinach, broccoli or red pepper. Apparently, the red pepper version is the winner, according to Andy.
I hope this work mates think the same tomorrow.
The quiche, muffins and some other dishes I’ve been regularly making are part of my expanding cooking and baking endeavors.
I’ve been mesmerized and intrigued by baking for a long time. It seems so hard and exact and so easy to screw things up. So I thought it’s high time to master it. It’s also strangely creative and relaxing, especially when I make several different dishes at the same time. Then it’s fun. I hate it when I feel like I need to make a meal every night (not that I have to because Andy and I evenly split cooking duties and try to cook in larger batches so that food lasts us a few meals).
We’ve also had to up the ante on cooking because of Ivan. The days of popping a yummy pizza in the oven have largely gone away, mainly because we need to cook good healthy food for both us and Ivan.
Hence my quiche solution, except Ivan doesn’t seem to like it. I think it’s the eggs. He must not like scrambled eggs because I yet have to see him actually put something of the yellow consistency in his mouth.
It’s also about tradition. Since I come from a family of non-cooks and bakers (although there were some attempts on my mom’s part to bake when I was little), I thought I would create some baking traditions of my own. I know I’m not cut out to become a “milk and cookies” mom, I just don’t have that in my veins, but I could pull off making baked goods on weekend mornings. For example, making muffins or pancakes or waffles. Waffles are actually Andy’s specialty. So far, I’ve perfected the muffins—blueberry or apple muffins. I love them, Andy likes them and Ivan seems to scarf them down as well.
About two months ago, I was set on making crepes. Except I had no clue how to make them. So one evening, I phoned my mom for help. I recall her making crepes when I was little, but when I called her to ask about the recipe, she indicated that it’s really hard to make them, that it’s tricky to get the dough right. (I think her complicated attitude toward baking is probably why I have this feeling that baking is hard and complicated and not for novices.) But she offered to look up the recipe, in a Croatian cookbook, non-the-less. She read me the recipe. It seemed simple enough, except the measurements were in milliliters and dekagrams. Now, I’m more at ease with milliliters and dekagrams than ounces and cups, (and I still have to learn to determine what’s a fever in Fahrenheit, after 20 years of living in the US), but remembering conversions was above my head.
But I was determined to make Ivan pancakes for breakfast. Our internet was out that evening due to a storm that knocked it off, so I couldn’t Google the information. TI remembered an old high school Trapper binder that had conversion rates on its sides. I dug it out. I eyeballed the conversions and measured out the ingredients.
The following morning I was in business. I made the crepes. I must have had novice’s luck because they came out perfect and were easy to make.
I triumphantly spread the jam on them and folded them in triangles, which is my preferred crepe folding shape, not the roll one.
This was the breakfast and desert of my youth. I wanted to pass it on to Ivan and start regular crepe weekends. I offered Ivan a bite, the juiciest fold of the triangle, bursting with jam.
Ivan took a bite, considered it for a second in his mouth, and then opened the mouth to let the crepe fall into my hand.
I was devastated. He didn’t like it.
Later in the day, he ate a few bites but it just wasn’t the same.
I haven’t made crepes since. I’ve stuck to the muffins. They’re easy and mastered and liked by all.
Crepes still have this aura of being difficult to make hanging over them, and I’m gathering strength when to attempt them again.
I’m up because I’m making my “signature” quiche for the second time tonight. It’s for Andy’s work. They’re each supposed to bring a Thanksgiving dish tomorrow to work. Not that a red-pepper quiche is really standard Thanksgiving fare, but it’s one of the few dishes in my recently discovered baking career that I’ve perfected. Andy got a choice—a quiche, blueberry muffins or a pumpkin pie (which I last made a year ago, so I was relieved that he didn’t chose that one)
I made the quiche earlier tonight, but because I tried to cut corners by using a different dish than the one I usually use, the crust kind of fell in, the quiche top got a bit too brown than it really should be and the dish itself, although dishwasher clean, sports some broiling residue that should’ve really been scrubbed by hand.
In all the times I’ve made variations on this quiche over the last few months, it’s never looked that bad. It tastes just fine, but since presentation is part of the dish as well, I thought I’d give it another shot. So it’s 2 a.m. and I’m waiting for the pie crust to thaw so I can assemble the quiche and bake it.
The only thing is that this new quiche probably won’t taste as sweet as the one I’ve already made because the red pepper I had left didn’t seem as ripe and sweet as the previous one. Oh, well, Andy can decide in the morning.
I’ve made different variations on this quiche theme: it’s always 4 eggs, fat-free cottage cheese and grated parmesan cheese (yes, I could use better cheeses, but these are always readily available and easy), the varying ingredient is sautéed spinach, broccoli or red pepper. Apparently, the red pepper version is the winner, according to Andy.
I hope this work mates think the same tomorrow.
The quiche, muffins and some other dishes I’ve been regularly making are part of my expanding cooking and baking endeavors.
I’ve been mesmerized and intrigued by baking for a long time. It seems so hard and exact and so easy to screw things up. So I thought it’s high time to master it. It’s also strangely creative and relaxing, especially when I make several different dishes at the same time. Then it’s fun. I hate it when I feel like I need to make a meal every night (not that I have to because Andy and I evenly split cooking duties and try to cook in larger batches so that food lasts us a few meals).
We’ve also had to up the ante on cooking because of Ivan. The days of popping a yummy pizza in the oven have largely gone away, mainly because we need to cook good healthy food for both us and Ivan.
Hence my quiche solution, except Ivan doesn’t seem to like it. I think it’s the eggs. He must not like scrambled eggs because I yet have to see him actually put something of the yellow consistency in his mouth.
It’s also about tradition. Since I come from a family of non-cooks and bakers (although there were some attempts on my mom’s part to bake when I was little), I thought I would create some baking traditions of my own. I know I’m not cut out to become a “milk and cookies” mom, I just don’t have that in my veins, but I could pull off making baked goods on weekend mornings. For example, making muffins or pancakes or waffles. Waffles are actually Andy’s specialty. So far, I’ve perfected the muffins—blueberry or apple muffins. I love them, Andy likes them and Ivan seems to scarf them down as well.
About two months ago, I was set on making crepes. Except I had no clue how to make them. So one evening, I phoned my mom for help. I recall her making crepes when I was little, but when I called her to ask about the recipe, she indicated that it’s really hard to make them, that it’s tricky to get the dough right. (I think her complicated attitude toward baking is probably why I have this feeling that baking is hard and complicated and not for novices.) But she offered to look up the recipe, in a Croatian cookbook, non-the-less. She read me the recipe. It seemed simple enough, except the measurements were in milliliters and dekagrams. Now, I’m more at ease with milliliters and dekagrams than ounces and cups, (and I still have to learn to determine what’s a fever in Fahrenheit, after 20 years of living in the US), but remembering conversions was above my head.
But I was determined to make Ivan pancakes for breakfast. Our internet was out that evening due to a storm that knocked it off, so I couldn’t Google the information. TI remembered an old high school Trapper binder that had conversion rates on its sides. I dug it out. I eyeballed the conversions and measured out the ingredients.
The following morning I was in business. I made the crepes. I must have had novice’s luck because they came out perfect and were easy to make.
I triumphantly spread the jam on them and folded them in triangles, which is my preferred crepe folding shape, not the roll one.
This was the breakfast and desert of my youth. I wanted to pass it on to Ivan and start regular crepe weekends. I offered Ivan a bite, the juiciest fold of the triangle, bursting with jam.
Ivan took a bite, considered it for a second in his mouth, and then opened the mouth to let the crepe fall into my hand.
I was devastated. He didn’t like it.
Later in the day, he ate a few bites but it just wasn’t the same.
I haven’t made crepes since. I’ve stuck to the muffins. They’re easy and mastered and liked by all.
Crepes still have this aura of being difficult to make hanging over them, and I’m gathering strength when to attempt them again.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Mariposa's Got Ivan's Socks
After a battling with Ivan for most of the day to have him allow me to put his socks and shoes on, I finally gave up. By the same token I left him the entire day in his pajama top because he absolutely refused to let me take it off. The only clothing item I managed to change twice (because it got dirty after lunch) were the pants, and even that took me half an hour each time.
And it's like this every single day. He gets very picky and peculiar about letting me take off a shirt (or put on one), socks and shoes. He absolutely refuses to have shoes on, and I don't think it's because they're too small for him. (I've tried measuring his feet with the Striderite's printed shoe ruler but with no luck.)
This reminds me of a recent Baby Center email I got, which I can no longer find, about how toddlers like things "just so." Another thing he likes just so, is tidying up and returning things to their proper place. I obviously welcome this activity.
Today, after I gave up on putting socks on Ivan, I left them on the chaise lounge, where Mariposa was sleeping, of course. Sometime later when I looked at her, she took one of Ivan's socks under her paws and was chewing it. Out of love, I assume.
She does the same thing with my socks, scrunchies, etc....tries to steal them of me to chew them.
It really warmed my heart when I saw her do that. To me, at least, it meant that she loves him just like she loves me.
And it's like this every single day. He gets very picky and peculiar about letting me take off a shirt (or put on one), socks and shoes. He absolutely refuses to have shoes on, and I don't think it's because they're too small for him. (I've tried measuring his feet with the Striderite's printed shoe ruler but with no luck.)
This reminds me of a recent Baby Center email I got, which I can no longer find, about how toddlers like things "just so." Another thing he likes just so, is tidying up and returning things to their proper place. I obviously welcome this activity.
Today, after I gave up on putting socks on Ivan, I left them on the chaise lounge, where Mariposa was sleeping, of course. Sometime later when I looked at her, she took one of Ivan's socks under her paws and was chewing it. Out of love, I assume.
She does the same thing with my socks, scrunchies, etc....tries to steal them of me to chew them.
It really warmed my heart when I saw her do that. To me, at least, it meant that she loves him just like she loves me.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
"My Name" Not Taken
Lisa, a friend of mine, who was giving birth to a baby girl a few weeks and was considering naming her daughter Klara, opted for a different name.
I guess the baby didn't look like a Klara but rather like a Lilian. A pretty name, I agree. And it's not Klara.
I guess the baby didn't look like a Klara but rather like a Lilian. A pretty name, I agree. And it's not Klara.
Ivan's Diet: Dips, Sticks, Balls and Meat
A while ago, I complained about Ivan being a picky, sparse eater, and even wondered how can he grow when all he seems to want is milk rather than food.
Well, lately, in the last few weeks, his appetite has picked up. Except he knows exactly what he wants to eat and when. I find this rather funny. He's so little and new, what does he know about preferences!
His food preferences, in addition to a specific taste, seem to center around the food shape and how easy and fun it is to eat.
His food groups can be divided into: dips, sticks, balls and meat.
Dips
He's crazy about hummus--all varieties of hummus, including those spiced up with garlic. I give him a little cup of hummus, some bread or crackers and a spoon. While I'd prefer he eats the hummus with the bread, he usually licks it off the bread and take another dip. Or he just eats it with the spoon without any bread.
He'll also eat yogurt or sour cream, spooning it out of a cup. Tapioca pudding, which my parents give him, also fall into this category. (It never crossed my mind ot buy it because I don't like tapioca pudding.)
Then there is oatmeal. He didn't like it at first when I introduced it about a month ago. But lately, he loves some warm oatmeal in the morning. I just need to make sure it's not too warm, otherwise, he'll keep saying "hot, hot, hot" and not eat it. (Hot is a recent word acquisition, which he's been practicing any chance he gets.)
Sticks
These are mainly bananas and cheese sticks. He loves them. It must be fun to hold them and have control over them. I assume this because he always brings me a banana when he wants one, and tries to peel it, and then insists on holding it while eating it.
Balls
These are mainly legumes and fruits.
He's crazy about beans--cooking beans, warmed beans, Mexican restaurant beans, beans from a jar, even Trader Joe's Marinaded 3 Bean Salad, which I wouldn't have pegged as a baby food. But he loves it.
He's equally crazy about peas. I like to sautee peas in some oil and onions and tomato sauce. Last time, I added a few sliced carrots as well. He ate the peas--first with a spoon but then gave up and just used his fingers. He systematically ate all the peas but left the carrots.
And finally the blueberries and grapes. He spent a whole month this past summer living off blueberries. I hadn't bought them since (because they're pricey now) until today when my parents bought some. He went nuts and ate almost the entire 14 oz package. He was thrilled to see the blueberries and kept calling them "bub, bub." I was shocked. I didn't think he'd remember that far.
Meat
Lately it appears that he's becoming a carnivore---he loves chicken, he loves beef. He ate cooked brisket for dinner last night (courtesy of my parents) and insisted on eating "me, me," which we've learned today means meat as well as milk, this morning for breakfast. Some cooked brisket and bread!
And he's crazy about bread, unless it's served with hummus (or jam or cream cheese) in which case he'll just lick the dip of the bread and ask for more. This is when I step in and insist he bites and chews and eats his bread too!
Well, lately, in the last few weeks, his appetite has picked up. Except he knows exactly what he wants to eat and when. I find this rather funny. He's so little and new, what does he know about preferences!
His food preferences, in addition to a specific taste, seem to center around the food shape and how easy and fun it is to eat.
His food groups can be divided into: dips, sticks, balls and meat.
Dips
He's crazy about hummus--all varieties of hummus, including those spiced up with garlic. I give him a little cup of hummus, some bread or crackers and a spoon. While I'd prefer he eats the hummus with the bread, he usually licks it off the bread and take another dip. Or he just eats it with the spoon without any bread.
He'll also eat yogurt or sour cream, spooning it out of a cup. Tapioca pudding, which my parents give him, also fall into this category. (It never crossed my mind ot buy it because I don't like tapioca pudding.)
Then there is oatmeal. He didn't like it at first when I introduced it about a month ago. But lately, he loves some warm oatmeal in the morning. I just need to make sure it's not too warm, otherwise, he'll keep saying "hot, hot, hot" and not eat it. (Hot is a recent word acquisition, which he's been practicing any chance he gets.)
Sticks
These are mainly bananas and cheese sticks. He loves them. It must be fun to hold them and have control over them. I assume this because he always brings me a banana when he wants one, and tries to peel it, and then insists on holding it while eating it.
Balls
These are mainly legumes and fruits.
He's crazy about beans--cooking beans, warmed beans, Mexican restaurant beans, beans from a jar, even Trader Joe's Marinaded 3 Bean Salad, which I wouldn't have pegged as a baby food. But he loves it.
He's equally crazy about peas. I like to sautee peas in some oil and onions and tomato sauce. Last time, I added a few sliced carrots as well. He ate the peas--first with a spoon but then gave up and just used his fingers. He systematically ate all the peas but left the carrots.
And finally the blueberries and grapes. He spent a whole month this past summer living off blueberries. I hadn't bought them since (because they're pricey now) until today when my parents bought some. He went nuts and ate almost the entire 14 oz package. He was thrilled to see the blueberries and kept calling them "bub, bub." I was shocked. I didn't think he'd remember that far.
Meat
Lately it appears that he's becoming a carnivore---he loves chicken, he loves beef. He ate cooked brisket for dinner last night (courtesy of my parents) and insisted on eating "me, me," which we've learned today means meat as well as milk, this morning for breakfast. Some cooked brisket and bread!
And he's crazy about bread, unless it's served with hummus (or jam or cream cheese) in which case he'll just lick the dip of the bread and ask for more. This is when I step in and insist he bites and chews and eats his bread too!
Sunday, November 9, 2008
First Haircut
Ivan got his first haircut today.
If I don't count the two times that Andy trimmed his back--the first time about six months ago he chopped off the cute little lock he had on the nape of his neck while he was giving him a bath. Luckily he kept the lock. That was actually how I found it. I found a lock of blond hair on the dresser next to my jewelry. Andy couldn't understand why. I was really upset about it, about the fact that he did it with me being present and about treating it like it's no big deal. Then a few months later, he again trimmed the back of his hair--it was getting too long, he said, and Ivan was beginning to look like a girl--during bath time.
But now, it was high time to get a real haircut because his bang had gotten too long and were falling into his eyes.
We didn't really know where to go, so we settled on Cartoon Cuts up in Rockville. (In the meantime, several playgroup moms suggested local, random barbers/hair salons, but they all agreed that the first haircut has to be special and that Cartoon Cuts was a good place to go.)
First we went last Sunday around 1 p.m.--basically after the playdate--but the place was a zoo. It took me 5 minutes to get the attention of girl at the check in/register to ask how long the wait would be. She said about 45 minutes. We gave up and went back home.
Today, however, we left the playdate early, around 10:30 and went straight to Cartoon Cuts. It was busy but much less hectic than last Sunday, The register girl said the wait would be at the most 15 minutes. Well, a minute after that, one haircutting lady was free and called Ivan's name.
Except he was fast asleep in the car, snoring and all. He had fallen asleep in the car on our way to Rockville. And he seemed to have been in that deep sleep, with his head slumped forward. When we pulled into the mall's parking lot, I was actually even beginning to reconsider whether to wake him up for the hair cut. But since we were there on a specific mission to get his hair cut, I went in to inquire about the wait while Andy and Ivan stayed in the car. I was hoping the wait would be longer, so that Ivan would have the time to wake up gradually on his own. But Andy had to wake him up.
When they walked into the place, I was surprised that he didn't seem cranky, a bit confused but not cranky. The haircut went surprisingly well. He sat in Andy's lap who sat in a barber's chair. At first Ivan fussed and cried a bit. I think it was more because of having been abruptly woken up than the haircut.
The haircut took a few minutes, and yes, Ivan was his serious self but he didn't really protest. He was too busy looking around and watching Sponge Bob on the little TV in front of him.
He got a little trim. Nothing drastic. Andy says the haircut is a dorky Camelot haircut, but that's fine with me. I think Ivan is still too much of a baby, my baby, to get his hair fully cut with shaved, razor trimmed back. One day, but not now.
Actually, with his lush blond hair--especially before the hair cut--Ivan reminds me of a little surfer/skater dude.
At Cartoon Cuts, we got his hair collected in a little enveloppe attached to a hair cutting certificate.
If I don't count the two times that Andy trimmed his back--the first time about six months ago he chopped off the cute little lock he had on the nape of his neck while he was giving him a bath. Luckily he kept the lock. That was actually how I found it. I found a lock of blond hair on the dresser next to my jewelry. Andy couldn't understand why. I was really upset about it, about the fact that he did it with me being present and about treating it like it's no big deal. Then a few months later, he again trimmed the back of his hair--it was getting too long, he said, and Ivan was beginning to look like a girl--during bath time.
But now, it was high time to get a real haircut because his bang had gotten too long and were falling into his eyes.
We didn't really know where to go, so we settled on Cartoon Cuts up in Rockville. (In the meantime, several playgroup moms suggested local, random barbers/hair salons, but they all agreed that the first haircut has to be special and that Cartoon Cuts was a good place to go.)
First we went last Sunday around 1 p.m.--basically after the playdate--but the place was a zoo. It took me 5 minutes to get the attention of girl at the check in/register to ask how long the wait would be. She said about 45 minutes. We gave up and went back home.
Today, however, we left the playdate early, around 10:30 and went straight to Cartoon Cuts. It was busy but much less hectic than last Sunday, The register girl said the wait would be at the most 15 minutes. Well, a minute after that, one haircutting lady was free and called Ivan's name.
Except he was fast asleep in the car, snoring and all. He had fallen asleep in the car on our way to Rockville. And he seemed to have been in that deep sleep, with his head slumped forward. When we pulled into the mall's parking lot, I was actually even beginning to reconsider whether to wake him up for the hair cut. But since we were there on a specific mission to get his hair cut, I went in to inquire about the wait while Andy and Ivan stayed in the car. I was hoping the wait would be longer, so that Ivan would have the time to wake up gradually on his own. But Andy had to wake him up.
When they walked into the place, I was surprised that he didn't seem cranky, a bit confused but not cranky. The haircut went surprisingly well. He sat in Andy's lap who sat in a barber's chair. At first Ivan fussed and cried a bit. I think it was more because of having been abruptly woken up than the haircut.
The haircut took a few minutes, and yes, Ivan was his serious self but he didn't really protest. He was too busy looking around and watching Sponge Bob on the little TV in front of him.
He got a little trim. Nothing drastic. Andy says the haircut is a dorky Camelot haircut, but that's fine with me. I think Ivan is still too much of a baby, my baby, to get his hair fully cut with shaved, razor trimmed back. One day, but not now.
Actually, with his lush blond hair--especially before the hair cut--Ivan reminds me of a little surfer/skater dude.
At Cartoon Cuts, we got his hair collected in a little enveloppe attached to a hair cutting certificate.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Pumpkin Patch & Halloween
Today was Halloween. Ivan went to his first Halloween party. It was a party of his Sunday neighborhood playground group (about which I must blog; it's on my must-blog-about list) hosted by one of the moms. It was fun. All moms and dads were there. Most of his little friends were there--Bella, Janey (both of these girls are so cute and so determined and extroverted), Mateo (whose mom hosted), Seger and Robbie. A few other kids/parents came who were friends of the hosts, including a little toddler girl named Klara. (Why are Klaras suddenly coming out of the woodwork! It is my name, I say!)
Ivan was dressed as a lion--in his Dora's hand-me down suit, which was a bit too snug and couldn't be "onesied" over his crotch since it was for 12-18 month old; the other option was skunk--except he adamantly refused all our attempts to put his hat (mane) on, and I was rather unsuccessful in trying to draw some whiskers with my eye shadow. He ended up with random smudges on his face and his lion belly full of color.
He had fun. All kids played with toys, etc...and somewhat interacted. They are all a few months too young to really play with one another. They tend to be in interested in the same things (if one goes for the box of toys, then they all follow) but not necessarily play.) It also seems they all have an agenda and move to their own drum....
At first, Ivan was standing by the side, seriously observing all other kids haggling over toys. Eventually he join. And after a while, he was roaming around the house from one room to another (it's a small house, luckily) pursuing his own what-ever agenda, completely not interested in where we were and what we were doing. It was almost as if we could've left and he would've not noticed.
There were a ton of trick or treaters coming to the door...so eventually Ivan went to check them out. Then he discovered a huge basket filled with chocolates and candy. And he was hooked. Not on the chocolates but on the basket. I don't think he realized (really knew) that the shiny silvery wrappers contain chocolate. He just liked the abundance of shiney "pebbles." He (and Bella and Janey) kept taking the candy and giving it to people, hoarding it, taking it out and putting it back in.
It was really funny.
For dinner he had some pizza. Then the desert came out--a place of four mini chocolate and chocolate covered bundt cakes. And he was glued to the serving table, wouldn't budge, ran straight back to it if I relocated him to Andy's side. Eventually, I broke down and took a little piece for us to eat. But he wasn't satisfied, he went back for more, gluing himself to the table. It was a struggle to divert his attention. What I want to know is how does he know that those were chocolatey deserts. He's never seen a bundt cake with or without chocolate!
We got back to our house about 8:30.....we only had two trick-or-treaters after that. I hope that Andy wasn't dissappointed. He wanted to start a family tradition of a big Halloween night, like the previous two years when he and Mariposa hung outside and we played old records. He was initially upset when I agreed to the tot party. But I think in retrospect, it was the best decision. Had we stayed home waiting for trick-or-treaters who wouldn't come, I think all of us would've been disappointed.
Butler's Orchard
Last Sunday, we finally went to the pumpkin patch. We went to Butler's Orchard in Damascus (up to Rt. 270) for the Pumpkin Festival. It was awesome. The day was a perfect warm fall day (which was a surprise considering it pour the day before and the entire week after).
I think all of Washington with kids under five was there. All three of us had so much fun.
In addition to the requisite hayride to the pumpkin patch, they had all these activities for tots and young children: slides, a corn maize, haybarn (who knew hay was so slippery), trains to sit in, etc....
Before leaving, we stopped at the farm's store, where they had homepage apple cider slushies. I got a cup for myself, which, of course, Ivan pried from my hands and would not let go. He drank the entire cider, leaving the slushy ice behind. I was afraid it would be too much sugar for him and that he would be bouncing off the falls, but luckily it was a small cup and he fell a sleep as soon as we got into the car. At least, I saw that he knows how to drink from a straw. I wasn't sure if he knew--he only has one straw sippy cup which we don't use often--and apparently drinking from a straw is an acquired skill.
This is definitely a family tradition in the making!
(Before going to the festival, we had breakfast at Parkway Deli....pumpkin pancakes, etc....)
Ivan was dressed as a lion--in his Dora's hand-me down suit, which was a bit too snug and couldn't be "onesied" over his crotch since it was for 12-18 month old; the other option was skunk--except he adamantly refused all our attempts to put his hat (mane) on, and I was rather unsuccessful in trying to draw some whiskers with my eye shadow. He ended up with random smudges on his face and his lion belly full of color.
He had fun. All kids played with toys, etc...and somewhat interacted. They are all a few months too young to really play with one another. They tend to be in interested in the same things (if one goes for the box of toys, then they all follow) but not necessarily play.) It also seems they all have an agenda and move to their own drum....
At first, Ivan was standing by the side, seriously observing all other kids haggling over toys. Eventually he join. And after a while, he was roaming around the house from one room to another (it's a small house, luckily) pursuing his own what-ever agenda, completely not interested in where we were and what we were doing. It was almost as if we could've left and he would've not noticed.
There were a ton of trick or treaters coming to the door...so eventually Ivan went to check them out. Then he discovered a huge basket filled with chocolates and candy. And he was hooked. Not on the chocolates but on the basket. I don't think he realized (really knew) that the shiny silvery wrappers contain chocolate. He just liked the abundance of shiney "pebbles." He (and Bella and Janey) kept taking the candy and giving it to people, hoarding it, taking it out and putting it back in.
It was really funny.
For dinner he had some pizza. Then the desert came out--a place of four mini chocolate and chocolate covered bundt cakes. And he was glued to the serving table, wouldn't budge, ran straight back to it if I relocated him to Andy's side. Eventually, I broke down and took a little piece for us to eat. But he wasn't satisfied, he went back for more, gluing himself to the table. It was a struggle to divert his attention. What I want to know is how does he know that those were chocolatey deserts. He's never seen a bundt cake with or without chocolate!
We got back to our house about 8:30.....we only had two trick-or-treaters after that. I hope that Andy wasn't dissappointed. He wanted to start a family tradition of a big Halloween night, like the previous two years when he and Mariposa hung outside and we played old records. He was initially upset when I agreed to the tot party. But I think in retrospect, it was the best decision. Had we stayed home waiting for trick-or-treaters who wouldn't come, I think all of us would've been disappointed.
Butler's Orchard
Last Sunday, we finally went to the pumpkin patch. We went to Butler's Orchard in Damascus (up to Rt. 270) for the Pumpkin Festival. It was awesome. The day was a perfect warm fall day (which was a surprise considering it pour the day before and the entire week after).
I think all of Washington with kids under five was there. All three of us had so much fun.
In addition to the requisite hayride to the pumpkin patch, they had all these activities for tots and young children: slides, a corn maize, haybarn (who knew hay was so slippery), trains to sit in, etc....
Before leaving, we stopped at the farm's store, where they had homepage apple cider slushies. I got a cup for myself, which, of course, Ivan pried from my hands and would not let go. He drank the entire cider, leaving the slushy ice behind. I was afraid it would be too much sugar for him and that he would be bouncing off the falls, but luckily it was a small cup and he fell a sleep as soon as we got into the car. At least, I saw that he knows how to drink from a straw. I wasn't sure if he knew--he only has one straw sippy cup which we don't use often--and apparently drinking from a straw is an acquired skill.
This is definitely a family tradition in the making!
(Before going to the festival, we had breakfast at Parkway Deli....pumpkin pancakes, etc....)
But It Was My Name
I had a Sex and the City Charlotte moment today. I went to visit a friend who's due to deliver a girl on Saturday. I casually asked her whether they've picked out a name. They had three names in the running. One of them was Clara (or Klara). My eyes fell out and my jaw dropped because that was my name!
When I got pregnant with Ivan, I was convinced it would be a girl--I always thought I'd have a girl, I always wanted a girl (never, ever considered the possibility of having a boy, actually) and I was convinced I was pregnant with a girl (because of a dream I had early on, during the wacky pregnancy dream phase).
As soon as I got pregnant, Andy and I drew up a list of girls name, which we winnowed down to three-Klara, Silva and Emma. (For boys, we couldn't come up with a top list we both agreed on. We finally settled on Ivan's name when I had to fill out the birth certificate documents before I was leaving the hospital, two days after his birth.)
But I never gave up on the name Klara. If I do have a girl (when I get pregnant again hopefully this month, keep my fingers crossed), Klara is THE top contender.
So when my friend said Clara today, I was shocked. It's not a common and popular name right now, like Emma or Sophia is, so where did she come up with it? They said they were looking for older names......but what are the odds that off all the girls names in the world (and there are much more cooler names to pick from for girls than boys) that they would pick Clara!
When I got pregnant with Ivan, I was convinced it would be a girl--I always thought I'd have a girl, I always wanted a girl (never, ever considered the possibility of having a boy, actually) and I was convinced I was pregnant with a girl (because of a dream I had early on, during the wacky pregnancy dream phase).
As soon as I got pregnant, Andy and I drew up a list of girls name, which we winnowed down to three-Klara, Silva and Emma. (For boys, we couldn't come up with a top list we both agreed on. We finally settled on Ivan's name when I had to fill out the birth certificate documents before I was leaving the hospital, two days after his birth.)
But I never gave up on the name Klara. If I do have a girl (when I get pregnant again hopefully this month, keep my fingers crossed), Klara is THE top contender.
So when my friend said Clara today, I was shocked. It's not a common and popular name right now, like Emma or Sophia is, so where did she come up with it? They said they were looking for older names......but what are the odds that off all the girls names in the world (and there are much more cooler names to pick from for girls than boys) that they would pick Clara!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
A Swig of Chocolate
I've realized that every time I spend a whole day alone with Ivan, I indulge in surreptitious at-the-cupboard eating of chocolate through those unpredictable tempter tantrum outbursts of not wanting to put pants on or take off, absolutely refusing to let me change poopy diapers, and the likes. Square by square I can finish the entire large 1 lbs of Trader Joe's chocolate in two days.
Some people take on-the-go swigs of vodka or other alcohol to get them through long, intense days, I have my own on-the-go swigs of chocolate.
As Andy says, if that's my only addiction and vice--chocolate eating--why not indulge it in.
Except tell that to my vanishing waist-line.
Some people take on-the-go swigs of vodka or other alcohol to get them through long, intense days, I have my own on-the-go swigs of chocolate.
As Andy says, if that's my only addiction and vice--chocolate eating--why not indulge it in.
Except tell that to my vanishing waist-line.
I love this sentence from Baby Center's weekly email to me, which was sent for 16-month, 4-week olds.
"Toddlers live large — they love large, they play all out, and they have big, passionate feelings."
So true.
"Toddlers live large — they love large, they play all out, and they have big, passionate feelings."
So true.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
A Little Silver Radio, the New Best Friend
The year-plus long fascination with the vacuum cleaner has finally abated.
Yes, when I bring out the vacuum cleaner he will still explore it and "play" it. Although I've noticed he's not that thrilled when I actually run it. Every time the vacuum cleaner is turned on, he runs to the kitchen to pull the cord out of the socket. Obviously, not a safe thing to do. As a result, the last few times I've vacuumed, I had to carry him in one arm, while I vacuumed with the other. Kind of difficult and heavy to do.
But I digress. Ivan's new best appliance friend is a little silver radio. It's a little radio/casette player we bought a few years ago to take to the beach with us. It was stil fun of sand and it still had working batteries in it. As we discovered, the radio runs on batteries if its wire is unplugged from the radio. If it's plugged in, then it overrides the batteries and it doesn't work. It a really little radio, with a cassette player and one speaker. We probably bought it for 20 bucks some 6 years ago. That radio, if you could even buy it today, would probably retail for less that Ivan's Fridge DJ radio.
When we painted the bathroom about a month or two ago, we took the radiof off its perch on the cabinet shelf, and brough it to the bedroom. It's been Ivan's best friend ever since. First thing in the morning he goes to get the radio and plays with it. As soon as the evening bath is over, he runs to get his "me, me" (i.e. milk) and the radio.
It's an endless source of fascination. There's the antenna. There's the volume dial. There are the stations AM and FM dials. Then there is the casette part, with its play, fast forward and stop buttons. And then there is the cord that attaches. Fascinating.
And the radio does something: music and talking come out of it. And when Mr. Meh hears a song he likes, he bobs his head and upper body according to the rhytm. It's adorable.
He's already managed to take of the part that controls the volume, the plastic front with the radio channels/bars written out and disabled the the dial bar, which moves as you turn the dial. But not a big deal. The radio still works. And to control the volume, we just need to put something sharp the volume slot to turn the inner part of the dial---something sharp includes the bottoms of Mr. Meh diaper rash creams. He's seen how I turn the volume with the diaper rash cream, so now he can do it too.
Yes, when I bring out the vacuum cleaner he will still explore it and "play" it. Although I've noticed he's not that thrilled when I actually run it. Every time the vacuum cleaner is turned on, he runs to the kitchen to pull the cord out of the socket. Obviously, not a safe thing to do. As a result, the last few times I've vacuumed, I had to carry him in one arm, while I vacuumed with the other. Kind of difficult and heavy to do.
But I digress. Ivan's new best appliance friend is a little silver radio. It's a little radio/casette player we bought a few years ago to take to the beach with us. It was stil fun of sand and it still had working batteries in it. As we discovered, the radio runs on batteries if its wire is unplugged from the radio. If it's plugged in, then it overrides the batteries and it doesn't work. It a really little radio, with a cassette player and one speaker. We probably bought it for 20 bucks some 6 years ago. That radio, if you could even buy it today, would probably retail for less that Ivan's Fridge DJ radio.
When we painted the bathroom about a month or two ago, we took the radiof off its perch on the cabinet shelf, and brough it to the bedroom. It's been Ivan's best friend ever since. First thing in the morning he goes to get the radio and plays with it. As soon as the evening bath is over, he runs to get his "me, me" (i.e. milk) and the radio.
It's an endless source of fascination. There's the antenna. There's the volume dial. There are the stations AM and FM dials. Then there is the casette part, with its play, fast forward and stop buttons. And then there is the cord that attaches. Fascinating.
And the radio does something: music and talking come out of it. And when Mr. Meh hears a song he likes, he bobs his head and upper body according to the rhytm. It's adorable.
He's already managed to take of the part that controls the volume, the plastic front with the radio channels/bars written out and disabled the the dial bar, which moves as you turn the dial. But not a big deal. The radio still works. And to control the volume, we just need to put something sharp the volume slot to turn the inner part of the dial---something sharp includes the bottoms of Mr. Meh diaper rash creams. He's seen how I turn the volume with the diaper rash cream, so now he can do it too.
Ivan Says Bye to All, Including Toys
This pas week, Ivan has started to wave at everyone and say bye to people, which is really cute.
Today we were playing with a number of his toys, including the steering wheel toy. So, as all the electronic toys do, the toy said "...bye" after awhile when we stopped playing with it.
Ivan, who was busy playing with something else, without skipping a beat turned toward the steering wheel toy, said "bye" and continued playing.
It was just too funny.
Today we were playing with a number of his toys, including the steering wheel toy. So, as all the electronic toys do, the toy said "...bye" after awhile when we stopped playing with it.
Ivan, who was busy playing with something else, without skipping a beat turned toward the steering wheel toy, said "bye" and continued playing.
It was just too funny.
The Crib Escape and other Climbing Feats
The day we've been dreading for quite some time now has finally come to pass. Ivan has figured out how to climb out of the crib.
I'm not sure how or when he did it, but after he woke up from a mid-day nap and started crying/whining in his regular "come and get me" voice, I went upstairs. He was in the hallway, holding on to the gate. At that first split second, I though nothing of it (since I was groggy from taking a nap myself), when my eyes widened and I realized "Oh shit, he's not in his crib."
I retrospect I wonder whether he even napped. Considering that I don't recall hearing any tumbling noises right before he called for me, I suspect he climbed out of the crib some time earlier. ) About half an hour earlier, I thought I heard him wake up and make bouncy noises in his crib: he likes to lie in his crib, kick his legs up and then slam them against the bed. So originally, I dismissed those noises and assumed he fell back a sleep. But now, I suspect that was when he got out of the crib. I also believe it's possible that he climbed up on our bed or the spare bed and slept there. But this is just a hypothesis, (although a viable one).
This new development is really bad. Now we have no place to put him for him to be safe, if one of us is home alone with him, if we want to take a shower, which is exactly what I did today and what I do on all other days when I'm alone with him.
I put him in his crib around 8:30 a.m. today, not thinking he would fall asleep because it was so early in the day, but just as a quick milk/rest break while I take a quick shower. Surprisingly enough, he didn't object and soon I realized he fell asleep. So I decided to squeeze in a nap as well before showering. In retrospect, I was lucky he slept, because this would've been a prime opportunity for him to attempt the climb out of the crib.
Andy said that soon we'll have to convert the crib into a toddler bed. But I'm apprehensive about doing that yet because Ivan doesn't sleep peacefully, facing one direction all night long, but tends to make circles in his crib and often wakes himself on the opposite side of the crib or is sleeping sideways. And I've watched him sit up in his sleep and just throw himself/let himself fall in the opposite direction.
I'm just hoping that this crib hopping was an abberation.
This entire day today he's schedule was off. First he woke up shortly before 5 a.m. and would not go back to sleep, milk or no milk. And since Andy got up to go to work at 5 anyway, Ivan just took that to mean, OK time to get up.
We went to the living room to play. He seemed intent on running around and climbing onto the furniture, which was unusual for him because he's not really a climber. First he sat and then stood up on the bench at the table for me to give him food (yeah for asking for breakfast, nay for standing up on the bench). Throughout the day, he kept trying to climb onto the table.
Then, while I must have closed my eyes for a second although I was desperately trying to stay awake, I opened my eyes to find him standing on the arm of the leather sofa, ready to throw himself onto the sofa. Considering that we have wood floors and that a huge planter was right behind/beside him, this freaked me out more than the subsequent crib incident. He invinted a new game. He put his plastic red chair to the edge of the sofa, so he can step onto the chair and then step onto the arm of the sofa and then throw himself onto the sofa. He thought this game was really funny. It was really innocous, as long as I was alert and awake and supervising him so he doesn't fall of the sofa. Then a conflict arose. Mariposa decided to wake up from the chaise lounge and check out what we were doing. In other words, hop up and a settle herself right in the middle of the leather sofa-- because that was center stage where all the action was. This, of course, annoyed Ivan who now no longer had the length of the sofa to throw himself on....
Yesterday, while I was in the kitchen for a minute, thinking he's playing in the living room, like he always does, I found him sitting on the glass desk. He usually likes to sit up on the chair that's at the desk but this was the first time he climbed onto the desk itself.
I guess it's time to sign up for Gymboree.
Today overall:
Ivan's schedule was completely thrown off for some reason today. We missed the music class today because of his first nap of the day. We never made it out of the house today. I was hoping to take him to the mall today but he absolutely refused to let me put socks and shoes on, so I eventually gave up on the mall idea. (It was too rainy and cold to go out to the playground.) Then he took his second nap, otherwise known as the great crib escape. Then he fell asleep between 4:30 and 6:40, which was really strange because it was so late in the day. Finally we put his to bed by 8:30 or so. He couldn't fall sleep but called for me to come and cuddle him. So he and I laid on the spare bed while he fell sleep. I love my cuddly time with him.
I'm not sure how or when he did it, but after he woke up from a mid-day nap and started crying/whining in his regular "come and get me" voice, I went upstairs. He was in the hallway, holding on to the gate. At that first split second, I though nothing of it (since I was groggy from taking a nap myself), when my eyes widened and I realized "Oh shit, he's not in his crib."
I retrospect I wonder whether he even napped. Considering that I don't recall hearing any tumbling noises right before he called for me, I suspect he climbed out of the crib some time earlier. ) About half an hour earlier, I thought I heard him wake up and make bouncy noises in his crib: he likes to lie in his crib, kick his legs up and then slam them against the bed. So originally, I dismissed those noises and assumed he fell back a sleep. But now, I suspect that was when he got out of the crib. I also believe it's possible that he climbed up on our bed or the spare bed and slept there. But this is just a hypothesis, (although a viable one).
This new development is really bad. Now we have no place to put him for him to be safe, if one of us is home alone with him, if we want to take a shower, which is exactly what I did today and what I do on all other days when I'm alone with him.
I put him in his crib around 8:30 a.m. today, not thinking he would fall asleep because it was so early in the day, but just as a quick milk/rest break while I take a quick shower. Surprisingly enough, he didn't object and soon I realized he fell asleep. So I decided to squeeze in a nap as well before showering. In retrospect, I was lucky he slept, because this would've been a prime opportunity for him to attempt the climb out of the crib.
Andy said that soon we'll have to convert the crib into a toddler bed. But I'm apprehensive about doing that yet because Ivan doesn't sleep peacefully, facing one direction all night long, but tends to make circles in his crib and often wakes himself on the opposite side of the crib or is sleeping sideways. And I've watched him sit up in his sleep and just throw himself/let himself fall in the opposite direction.
I'm just hoping that this crib hopping was an abberation.
This entire day today he's schedule was off. First he woke up shortly before 5 a.m. and would not go back to sleep, milk or no milk. And since Andy got up to go to work at 5 anyway, Ivan just took that to mean, OK time to get up.
We went to the living room to play. He seemed intent on running around and climbing onto the furniture, which was unusual for him because he's not really a climber. First he sat and then stood up on the bench at the table for me to give him food (yeah for asking for breakfast, nay for standing up on the bench). Throughout the day, he kept trying to climb onto the table.
Then, while I must have closed my eyes for a second although I was desperately trying to stay awake, I opened my eyes to find him standing on the arm of the leather sofa, ready to throw himself onto the sofa. Considering that we have wood floors and that a huge planter was right behind/beside him, this freaked me out more than the subsequent crib incident. He invinted a new game. He put his plastic red chair to the edge of the sofa, so he can step onto the chair and then step onto the arm of the sofa and then throw himself onto the sofa. He thought this game was really funny. It was really innocous, as long as I was alert and awake and supervising him so he doesn't fall of the sofa. Then a conflict arose. Mariposa decided to wake up from the chaise lounge and check out what we were doing. In other words, hop up and a settle herself right in the middle of the leather sofa-- because that was center stage where all the action was. This, of course, annoyed Ivan who now no longer had the length of the sofa to throw himself on....
Yesterday, while I was in the kitchen for a minute, thinking he's playing in the living room, like he always does, I found him sitting on the glass desk. He usually likes to sit up on the chair that's at the desk but this was the first time he climbed onto the desk itself.
I guess it's time to sign up for Gymboree.
Today overall:
Ivan's schedule was completely thrown off for some reason today. We missed the music class today because of his first nap of the day. We never made it out of the house today. I was hoping to take him to the mall today but he absolutely refused to let me put socks and shoes on, so I eventually gave up on the mall idea. (It was too rainy and cold to go out to the playground.) Then he took his second nap, otherwise known as the great crib escape. Then he fell asleep between 4:30 and 6:40, which was really strange because it was so late in the day. Finally we put his to bed by 8:30 or so. He couldn't fall sleep but called for me to come and cuddle him. So he and I laid on the spare bed while he fell sleep. I love my cuddly time with him.
Monday, October 20, 2008
The milk bottle, "was it all a dream?"; baby-bottling industry
This morning Ivan got his regular Born Free bottle and nipple (with milk gushing out of it). He drank it without a problem. I wondered if he remembered the "real" bottle I gave him last night, or whether the memory of that is fuzzy, like it was part of a cozy "me, me" (his word for milk) dream, where a milk dream fairy appeared with the bottle.
All day today, however, he did cry for "me, me," "me, me." The child should probably eat more and drink less, but we still haven't found a way to force that change.
This afternoon I went to buy new bottle nipples, that is sippy cup tops to replace the ones where the holes have gotten too big. I went to Whole Food of all places. It was the closest store I knew would have the nipples, unlike the two local CVSs which are so poorly stocked (meaning, not stocked at all) with all prerequisite Born Free baby paraphenalia.
So I overpaid for the nipples, a package of two for $6.99. But the new nipples, not yet broken in with the widened holes, worked like a charm when the bed time came.
Baby stuff ain't cheap.
This got me thinking. The whole baby industry--pacifiers, bottles, nipples, sippy cups and the variety of items in between--is quite an industry. I wonder how big and how competitive it is. How many billions of dollars is it worth? (Maybe this is something I should consider buying stock in now that we have some spare extra cash that we could put toward such financial adventures. After all, there is always bound to be some desperate sleep-deprived overworked first-time sucker mom praying to find that perfect product to calm and quiet the baby down, while ensuring his proper physiological and psychological development.)
There are so many "must have" products out there, a 100% sure way to put your baby to sleep, the newest sippy cup with advanced sucking action and spill-proof mechanism built it. I wonder who spends time thinking and developing them.
Someone does, someone with an engineering background, I presume, considering how complex these bottle mechanisms are. ("Yes, I got my mechanical engineering degree from MIT and now I work for Advent, where I develop better and improved baby bottles." Sounds like every budding engineer's dream job.)
Every time I buy a new bottle (sippy cup, sippy cup with a straw, you name it), I've had to read instructions very carefully to figure out how to handle, disassemble and reassamble the bottle considering how many parts the bottle comes in. (And these bottle assembling instructions are on par with Ikea's furniture assembling instructions).
I actually just end up posting "assembly" instructions to the fridge so that we all--Andy and my parents--remember how to assemble the bottle (and still on occasion someone can't remember or forgets to put together all the parts in proper order.)
How many parts does it really take to create a perfect bottle? Does it really make a difference?
But more importantly, how did generations of mothers survive infanthood without all these modern plastic marvels? What did babies suck on to soothe themselves to sleep--a twig or a wooden pacifier--before the plastics industry took off? How did they go to sleep without their prerequisite milk bottle?
I really do wonder about this because it's one of those things that do change with the passage of time but probably no one thinks to record it because it's such a mundate thing (along the lines of how did mothers survive without disposable diapers or how did women get through the month before the advent of sanitary napkins.)
I assume poor mothers and women in developing world still largely go without these must have plastic inventions. I assume their babies grow up just fine.
All day today, however, he did cry for "me, me," "me, me." The child should probably eat more and drink less, but we still haven't found a way to force that change.
This afternoon I went to buy new bottle nipples, that is sippy cup tops to replace the ones where the holes have gotten too big. I went to Whole Food of all places. It was the closest store I knew would have the nipples, unlike the two local CVSs which are so poorly stocked (meaning, not stocked at all) with all prerequisite Born Free baby paraphenalia.
So I overpaid for the nipples, a package of two for $6.99. But the new nipples, not yet broken in with the widened holes, worked like a charm when the bed time came.
Baby stuff ain't cheap.
This got me thinking. The whole baby industry--pacifiers, bottles, nipples, sippy cups and the variety of items in between--is quite an industry. I wonder how big and how competitive it is. How many billions of dollars is it worth? (Maybe this is something I should consider buying stock in now that we have some spare extra cash that we could put toward such financial adventures. After all, there is always bound to be some desperate sleep-deprived overworked first-time sucker mom praying to find that perfect product to calm and quiet the baby down, while ensuring his proper physiological and psychological development.)
There are so many "must have" products out there, a 100% sure way to put your baby to sleep, the newest sippy cup with advanced sucking action and spill-proof mechanism built it. I wonder who spends time thinking and developing them.
Someone does, someone with an engineering background, I presume, considering how complex these bottle mechanisms are. ("Yes, I got my mechanical engineering degree from MIT and now I work for Advent, where I develop better and improved baby bottles." Sounds like every budding engineer's dream job.)
Every time I buy a new bottle (sippy cup, sippy cup with a straw, you name it), I've had to read instructions very carefully to figure out how to handle, disassemble and reassamble the bottle considering how many parts the bottle comes in. (And these bottle assembling instructions are on par with Ikea's furniture assembling instructions).
I actually just end up posting "assembly" instructions to the fridge so that we all--Andy and my parents--remember how to assemble the bottle (and still on occasion someone can't remember or forgets to put together all the parts in proper order.)
How many parts does it really take to create a perfect bottle? Does it really make a difference?
But more importantly, how did generations of mothers survive infanthood without all these modern plastic marvels? What did babies suck on to soothe themselves to sleep--a twig or a wooden pacifier--before the plastics industry took off? How did they go to sleep without their prerequisite milk bottle?
I really do wonder about this because it's one of those things that do change with the passage of time but probably no one thinks to record it because it's such a mundate thing (along the lines of how did mothers survive without disposable diapers or how did women get through the month before the advent of sanitary napkins.)
I assume poor mothers and women in developing world still largely go without these must have plastic inventions. I assume their babies grow up just fine.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
...will regret this in the morning
I brought out the bottle again. It wasn't really that desperate times called for desperate measures, but I wanted to cut down on how much milk I give Ivan each night to help him fall sleep because too much milk results in oversoaked diapers and wet jammies in the morning.
The problem is that the opening on the nipple/sippy cup top (or whatever) on the Born Free bottle widens rather fast. What starts off as a small pin-size hole soon becomes rather big and results in milk dripping out freely. Ivan ends up chugging his milk instead of nursing it. I can't even give him the bottle before I put him to bed because he'll drink it by the time I lay him down.
So today after he chugged down the first 6 oz and continued crying, I decided to try the bottle again. (I probably should've thrown them away by now, but for whatever sentimental reasons I've kept them.)
He was really funny. After I calmed him down (he was first pushing me and the bottle away in anger), I laid him back to bed and handed him the bottle. He immediately realized something was different and before putting the bottle in his mouth, he thoroughly examined the nipple and said "ohoohoh." I guess he remembered the bottle and was exicted that he got it again. I'm surprised. I didn't think he would remember that far back.
I know I'll probably regret this bottle re-introduction in the morning but oh well.
The problem is that the opening on the nipple/sippy cup top (or whatever) on the Born Free bottle widens rather fast. What starts off as a small pin-size hole soon becomes rather big and results in milk dripping out freely. Ivan ends up chugging his milk instead of nursing it. I can't even give him the bottle before I put him to bed because he'll drink it by the time I lay him down.
So today after he chugged down the first 6 oz and continued crying, I decided to try the bottle again. (I probably should've thrown them away by now, but for whatever sentimental reasons I've kept them.)
He was really funny. After I calmed him down (he was first pushing me and the bottle away in anger), I laid him back to bed and handed him the bottle. He immediately realized something was different and before putting the bottle in his mouth, he thoroughly examined the nipple and said "ohoohoh." I guess he remembered the bottle and was exicted that he got it again. I'm surprised. I didn't think he would remember that far back.
I know I'll probably regret this bottle re-introduction in the morning but oh well.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Twinkle Toes
Andy and I have been joking for months that Ivan seems to be developing a "theater" side to him.
What do we precisely mean by that?
Well, for months now he loves to check himself out in the full length mirror in his room (which was there before we moved in and way before that room was designated to be the baby room. Besides, it's the only full length mirror in the house.) I've read that this constant mirror checking is rather typical toddler (at least for those with access to a full length mirror) but it's really funny.
Then this summer, when he added his clothing preference, it just got funnier. On several occasions he's pulled out specific shirts from his dresser for me (or Andy) to put on him to wear (on some occasions even several shirts for that completely uncoordinated layered look) and then he'd promply run to the mirror to check himself out.
Then on Sunday when we went up to Pennsylvania, we noticed that every time he got really excited and happy about something he'd start marching in place really fast, like a little jazz step. Twinkle toes, Andy called it.
It's really funny. Now he keeps doing it every time he's excited about something. Maybe he's trying to dance or move to some rhythm (which maybe he picked up in the music class, but more about that tomorrow).
The other night when I got home from work and he was already in bed but wide awake standing up with the light turned on, I went upstairs to play with him. When he saw me, he did the "twinkle toes" step with a full 360 turn. He must have been extra excited to see me.
He's so cute when he does that. I need to record it (except every time I turn the camcorder on, he gets intrigued about the camera and tries to touch it and take it from me. In other words, he stops doing what I was trying to record.)
What do we precisely mean by that?
Well, for months now he loves to check himself out in the full length mirror in his room (which was there before we moved in and way before that room was designated to be the baby room. Besides, it's the only full length mirror in the house.) I've read that this constant mirror checking is rather typical toddler (at least for those with access to a full length mirror) but it's really funny.
Then this summer, when he added his clothing preference, it just got funnier. On several occasions he's pulled out specific shirts from his dresser for me (or Andy) to put on him to wear (on some occasions even several shirts for that completely uncoordinated layered look) and then he'd promply run to the mirror to check himself out.
Then on Sunday when we went up to Pennsylvania, we noticed that every time he got really excited and happy about something he'd start marching in place really fast, like a little jazz step. Twinkle toes, Andy called it.
It's really funny. Now he keeps doing it every time he's excited about something. Maybe he's trying to dance or move to some rhythm (which maybe he picked up in the music class, but more about that tomorrow).
The other night when I got home from work and he was already in bed but wide awake standing up with the light turned on, I went upstairs to play with him. When he saw me, he did the "twinkle toes" step with a full 360 turn. He must have been extra excited to see me.
He's so cute when he does that. I need to record it (except every time I turn the camcorder on, he gets intrigued about the camera and tries to touch it and take it from me. In other words, he stops doing what I was trying to record.)
Great Grandmas Think Alike
...about socks.
Andy's mom had bought Ivan a bunch of clothes while he was with them the other week. I must admit her clothing selection has been rather good. She's been buying him some nice pieces--granted they are from Target, nothing fancy, I then again I buy him clothes from Target as well. Nice colors, nice shapes, no obnoxious oversized sports or other emblems paraphenalia.
So this last time, Mimi bought Ivan clothes, I was pleasantly surprised. Pleasantly--because I liked the clothes and it was exactly the clothes he needed. Surprised--because I didn't expect her or hinted to her to buy him anything. But, like all good grandmas, she gets a kick out of it.
I kept everything except the socks. The socks she bought are these socks that have little rubber shapes on the bottom that say 12-24 months, that are supposed to prevent the child from sliding and slipping. Except they don't work (I know because back in the spring I received a such pair of socks). They don't have enough of the rubber stuff to really work. All this rubber sole does is make the sock much thicker to put in the shoe. Also, the top of these socks are rather loose, so they actually keep sliding off Ivan's feet so that he ends up walking on the heel part of the sock with extra loose socks sticking in front of his toes. This, of course, just contributes to falling.
Luckily, Andy's mom, knowing that I'm a rather picky person, kept the receipt for me to exchange anything, if need be. So earlier in the week while Ivan was at my parents, I went to return the socks (yes, all $5 worth of them at Target.) It wasn't the money, it was just that I don't want stuff that I know I won't use lying around the house.
Then yesterday, when Ivan returned from my parents, he returned with some additional new items (such as a bottle scrubber brush, diapers, etc) and an identical pair of light beige rubberized socks that I just returned. Except my mom, being the clean freak she is, took the tag off and actually washed them.
I guess there is no way of getting around these beige rubber socks. I'll have to be upfront with them and tell them "no more rubberized socks."
Andy's mom had bought Ivan a bunch of clothes while he was with them the other week. I must admit her clothing selection has been rather good. She's been buying him some nice pieces--granted they are from Target, nothing fancy, I then again I buy him clothes from Target as well. Nice colors, nice shapes, no obnoxious oversized sports or other emblems paraphenalia.
So this last time, Mimi bought Ivan clothes, I was pleasantly surprised. Pleasantly--because I liked the clothes and it was exactly the clothes he needed. Surprised--because I didn't expect her or hinted to her to buy him anything. But, like all good grandmas, she gets a kick out of it.
I kept everything except the socks. The socks she bought are these socks that have little rubber shapes on the bottom that say 12-24 months, that are supposed to prevent the child from sliding and slipping. Except they don't work (I know because back in the spring I received a such pair of socks). They don't have enough of the rubber stuff to really work. All this rubber sole does is make the sock much thicker to put in the shoe. Also, the top of these socks are rather loose, so they actually keep sliding off Ivan's feet so that he ends up walking on the heel part of the sock with extra loose socks sticking in front of his toes. This, of course, just contributes to falling.
Luckily, Andy's mom, knowing that I'm a rather picky person, kept the receipt for me to exchange anything, if need be. So earlier in the week while Ivan was at my parents, I went to return the socks (yes, all $5 worth of them at Target.) It wasn't the money, it was just that I don't want stuff that I know I won't use lying around the house.
Then yesterday, when Ivan returned from my parents, he returned with some additional new items (such as a bottle scrubber brush, diapers, etc) and an identical pair of light beige rubberized socks that I just returned. Except my mom, being the clean freak she is, took the tag off and actually washed them.
I guess there is no way of getting around these beige rubber socks. I'll have to be upfront with them and tell them "no more rubberized socks."
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Mr. Meh got back from Grandma/Grandpas; the last month of Mr. Meh
Ivan was at my parents from Monday afternoon until today when they brough him back. He was apparently very tired today because he didn't really take a nap and was ready to go to bed by 6 p.m. or so. Both my dad and Andy said that he looked so tired that he was barely standing up. However by the time, I got home around 6:30-7 he was in bed but wide awake crying with the light turned on and milk spilled on the sheets.
I played with him a bit, changed the sheet and got him more milk, but he wouldn't quiet down. We let him cry a bit, because
Andy was advising me that "we need to stick to his schedule; let him cry, he'll fall asleep." But after a few minutes I couldn't take it any more and went upstairs to get him. I walked him around a bit to calm down (it breaks my heart when I hug him and he's still sighing those deep full-body sighs while he's calming down). Then we laid on the spare bed to look at the moonlight (more about that further down). He quickly scurried off to get his milk and then climbed back onto the bed to cuddle and giggle with me. He kept giving me his feet, because I always tickle and kiss them. Then he wedged himself close to me, laid on his stomach while holding his bottle and drifted into sleep while I was whispering to him and petting his back.
So, all that crying because he wanted some cuddles by mama. I guess he really missed me these last few days, although he had a fabulous time at grandma's and had no trouble falling asleep.
Tomorrow is my Friday off from work and I'm looking so much to spending all my time with Ivan. I've been feeling so guilty because three weeks ago, he spent a few days at Andy's parents 'cause my dad was in Croatia. Then he was with us last week until this past Monday but I since I had to work all weekend I really didn't spent any time with him. And to make things worse, I was trying to work while he was clinging onto me to pay attention to him. So for ignoring him, I feel extra guilty.
(While I was on my work computer in the kitchen, Ivan climbed on the chair to reach this computer which was on the desk. He turned it on and ''type" on it, eventually dislocating the left shift key, which now doesn't work.)
This past weekend on Saturday, Andy and Ivan went back up to Pennsyvlania since I was at work all day. On Sunday, Andy took Ivan and Mariposa to the trail for some 4 hours. They came back all dirty--they were throwing rocks in the water. On Monday, my dad came to hang with Ivan and me. I had to work most of the day, but we--my dad, Ivan, Mariposa and I--did go for a walk to the playground during the day, before my dad took Ivan to their house.
Two weeks ago, I guess three weeks ago, we went up to PA on that Sunday for Andy's grandfather's 94th birthday. The plan was to leave him with Andy's parents for a week (while my dad was away). We left him with Andy's parents once before in July and he had done well. He had a great time and didn't seem to miss us. But this time, as soon as we got to up there, Ivan seemed much more clingy to me than I had seen him before. I don't know whether it was his age (they get more clingy and shy as they approach toddlerhood) or whether he sensed we were going to leave him there. But during the day he became his normal gleeful self. He had a hard time settling down for sleep that night (and the idea was that we tuck him to bed and then leave) that I wasn't sure whether he was overly tired (he hadn't slept the whole day) or whether he sensed that we were going to leave him. But eventually, with lots of milk help, he fell asleep. He was there until Thursday night. Andy's mom said he was wonderful and that he had a great time, although he'd go around asking "mama, mama."
That Thursday evening we drove up after work to pick him up. We took Mariposa with us so that she wouldn't be home alone all day. We got there at 8 p.m. on the dot. Ivan was already a sleep. When we got ready to leave, I gently roused him and picked him up. I remember thinking "wow, this is a boy a baby." He woke up groggy, and much to my surprise, instead of crying, he looked at me and smiled. He smiled at both of us. By the time we buckled him in the car, he was wide awake, babbling and smiling. Every time I'd look back at him, he'd smile and laugh at me. It warmed my heart. Eventually, the hum of the music and car lulled him back to sleep. (This was the night of the vice presidential debate. We opted not to listen to it in the car because he feared that the voices will prevent Ivan from falling asleep.) He slightly woke up again when we were transporting him from the car to his bed, but it was nothing major, nothing that a bit of milk couldn't solve.
So during that week he was with us (the week sandwiched between the grandparents' time) his sleeping patterns changed: the first part of the week, he kept going to bed by 6:30 (it wouldn've been just too brutal to keep him up any longer) and waking up at 4:30. We tried bribing him with milk in the morning to sleep longer but he's become like an addict: he requires more milk in more frequent dosages. Giving him a morning 4 oz of milk used to lull him back to sleep for about one hour, so he'd be up at 6. But now, it's about 4-6 oz which last about half an hour.
Then that Wednesday (October 8)--which was Andy's birthday and for which I worked too late so that Andy and my parents and Ivan and Mariposa celebrated with cake in my absence--he was up until 9. Whether it was his natural schedule shift or whether it was induced by too much cake--is up for debate. He would not calm down and go to bed.
Then he did the same thing on Thursday. We finally laid down with him on the bed and we pretended to sleep (well we probably did doze off) while he was climbing over us. Then he quieted down as he was looking out the window. It was a beautiful clear crisp night with a big bright silvery moon. He was starring at the moonlight. Then I realized that must have been the first time that he's actually seen the moonlight in his entire life. He's usually asleep by the time the moon comes up and besides the moon is not visible from his room--it's on the wrong side of the house and thick curtains cover the windows.
This is all I can remember of these last few weeks while I was too busy and tired to blog.
Other things to address: playgroup, music class, toy packaging and bottle industry.
I played with him a bit, changed the sheet and got him more milk, but he wouldn't quiet down. We let him cry a bit, because
Andy was advising me that "we need to stick to his schedule; let him cry, he'll fall asleep." But after a few minutes I couldn't take it any more and went upstairs to get him. I walked him around a bit to calm down (it breaks my heart when I hug him and he's still sighing those deep full-body sighs while he's calming down). Then we laid on the spare bed to look at the moonlight (more about that further down). He quickly scurried off to get his milk and then climbed back onto the bed to cuddle and giggle with me. He kept giving me his feet, because I always tickle and kiss them. Then he wedged himself close to me, laid on his stomach while holding his bottle and drifted into sleep while I was whispering to him and petting his back.
So, all that crying because he wanted some cuddles by mama. I guess he really missed me these last few days, although he had a fabulous time at grandma's and had no trouble falling asleep.
Tomorrow is my Friday off from work and I'm looking so much to spending all my time with Ivan. I've been feeling so guilty because three weeks ago, he spent a few days at Andy's parents 'cause my dad was in Croatia. Then he was with us last week until this past Monday but I since I had to work all weekend I really didn't spent any time with him. And to make things worse, I was trying to work while he was clinging onto me to pay attention to him. So for ignoring him, I feel extra guilty.
(While I was on my work computer in the kitchen, Ivan climbed on the chair to reach this computer which was on the desk. He turned it on and ''type" on it, eventually dislocating the left shift key, which now doesn't work.)
This past weekend on Saturday, Andy and Ivan went back up to Pennsyvlania since I was at work all day. On Sunday, Andy took Ivan and Mariposa to the trail for some 4 hours. They came back all dirty--they were throwing rocks in the water. On Monday, my dad came to hang with Ivan and me. I had to work most of the day, but we--my dad, Ivan, Mariposa and I--did go for a walk to the playground during the day, before my dad took Ivan to their house.
Two weeks ago, I guess three weeks ago, we went up to PA on that Sunday for Andy's grandfather's 94th birthday. The plan was to leave him with Andy's parents for a week (while my dad was away). We left him with Andy's parents once before in July and he had done well. He had a great time and didn't seem to miss us. But this time, as soon as we got to up there, Ivan seemed much more clingy to me than I had seen him before. I don't know whether it was his age (they get more clingy and shy as they approach toddlerhood) or whether he sensed we were going to leave him there. But during the day he became his normal gleeful self. He had a hard time settling down for sleep that night (and the idea was that we tuck him to bed and then leave) that I wasn't sure whether he was overly tired (he hadn't slept the whole day) or whether he sensed that we were going to leave him. But eventually, with lots of milk help, he fell asleep. He was there until Thursday night. Andy's mom said he was wonderful and that he had a great time, although he'd go around asking "mama, mama."
That Thursday evening we drove up after work to pick him up. We took Mariposa with us so that she wouldn't be home alone all day. We got there at 8 p.m. on the dot. Ivan was already a sleep. When we got ready to leave, I gently roused him and picked him up. I remember thinking "wow, this is a boy a baby." He woke up groggy, and much to my surprise, instead of crying, he looked at me and smiled. He smiled at both of us. By the time we buckled him in the car, he was wide awake, babbling and smiling. Every time I'd look back at him, he'd smile and laugh at me. It warmed my heart. Eventually, the hum of the music and car lulled him back to sleep. (This was the night of the vice presidential debate. We opted not to listen to it in the car because he feared that the voices will prevent Ivan from falling asleep.) He slightly woke up again when we were transporting him from the car to his bed, but it was nothing major, nothing that a bit of milk couldn't solve.
So during that week he was with us (the week sandwiched between the grandparents' time) his sleeping patterns changed: the first part of the week, he kept going to bed by 6:30 (it wouldn've been just too brutal to keep him up any longer) and waking up at 4:30. We tried bribing him with milk in the morning to sleep longer but he's become like an addict: he requires more milk in more frequent dosages. Giving him a morning 4 oz of milk used to lull him back to sleep for about one hour, so he'd be up at 6. But now, it's about 4-6 oz which last about half an hour.
Then that Wednesday (October 8)--which was Andy's birthday and for which I worked too late so that Andy and my parents and Ivan and Mariposa celebrated with cake in my absence--he was up until 9. Whether it was his natural schedule shift or whether it was induced by too much cake--is up for debate. He would not calm down and go to bed.
Then he did the same thing on Thursday. We finally laid down with him on the bed and we pretended to sleep (well we probably did doze off) while he was climbing over us. Then he quieted down as he was looking out the window. It was a beautiful clear crisp night with a big bright silvery moon. He was starring at the moonlight. Then I realized that must have been the first time that he's actually seen the moonlight in his entire life. He's usually asleep by the time the moon comes up and besides the moon is not visible from his room--it's on the wrong side of the house and thick curtains cover the windows.
This is all I can remember of these last few weeks while I was too busy and tired to blog.
Other things to address: playgroup, music class, toy packaging and bottle industry.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Mr. Meh is back
Yesterday after work we drove up to York to pick up Ivan. We got there at 8 p.m. and he was already asleep. When we were ready to leave, I went to pick him up. He woke up as we were rumbling in the room. Suprisingly enough, he didn't cry (like a baby would). He was a bit groggy but he gave us the sweetest smiles, as in "mamma and dadda are back."
As I was picking him up, I was surprised how big and "mature" he was.
A boy, not a baby.
I guess I need to be away from him for a few days to realize how much he's growing and changing.
He was awake when we got to the car. He babbled a bit and smiled at us. He seemed really happy to see us (or am I projecting). But eventually with Medic in his hand, wrapped in his blanket and nursing some warm milk, he fell asleep again.
He woke up when we arrived home and were carrying him to bed. But again, he was awake and groggy but didn't cry. Nothing that another shot of warm milk couldn't solve.
He woke up at 5:30 a.m. on the dot, with a big cherubby face full of glee.
He didn't skip a beat these days that he was away.
We spent the day at home, hanging out, him and I. I was trying to do work so I didn't want to go out with him.
He went down for a two-hour nap around 9 a.m. and after that he was up.
We had fun although we didn't do anything concrete (and I was a bit frazzled because of work. I thought I would use the two-hour nap time to do work, but instead I spent it on the phone with the IT guy to get set up to get into the system. So I had to do work while Mr. Meh was roaming around me.)
But the best surprise was that Andy came home early today. He was home by 3 p.m.
The four of us--Andy, Ivan, Mariposa and I--went to the park on the playground for about one hour. The day was just beautiful.
Everyone had fun. Andy took Ivan on the big slides. He was giggling so much. Mariposa got all playful. For some reason Andy going down the slide got her all excited and rambuctious. And then she played with a terrier puppy.
When we got home, everyone was exhausted and ready for dinner. We ate gnocchi. At first, it didn't seem that Ivan was going to eat the gnocchi, but he all of them. I actually wished I had more to give him.
But overall, he ate well: crackers and cheese (separately) for breakfast; pea stew and pears for lunch; lots of milk for snack time; and gnocchi in marinara sauce for dinner.
Not bad.
As I was picking him up, I was surprised how big and "mature" he was.
A boy, not a baby.
I guess I need to be away from him for a few days to realize how much he's growing and changing.
He was awake when we got to the car. He babbled a bit and smiled at us. He seemed really happy to see us (or am I projecting). But eventually with Medic in his hand, wrapped in his blanket and nursing some warm milk, he fell asleep again.
He woke up when we arrived home and were carrying him to bed. But again, he was awake and groggy but didn't cry. Nothing that another shot of warm milk couldn't solve.
He woke up at 5:30 a.m. on the dot, with a big cherubby face full of glee.
He didn't skip a beat these days that he was away.
We spent the day at home, hanging out, him and I. I was trying to do work so I didn't want to go out with him.
He went down for a two-hour nap around 9 a.m. and after that he was up.
We had fun although we didn't do anything concrete (and I was a bit frazzled because of work. I thought I would use the two-hour nap time to do work, but instead I spent it on the phone with the IT guy to get set up to get into the system. So I had to do work while Mr. Meh was roaming around me.)
But the best surprise was that Andy came home early today. He was home by 3 p.m.
The four of us--Andy, Ivan, Mariposa and I--went to the park on the playground for about one hour. The day was just beautiful.
Everyone had fun. Andy took Ivan on the big slides. He was giggling so much. Mariposa got all playful. For some reason Andy going down the slide got her all excited and rambuctious. And then she played with a terrier puppy.
When we got home, everyone was exhausted and ready for dinner. We ate gnocchi. At first, it didn't seem that Ivan was going to eat the gnocchi, but he all of them. I actually wished I had more to give him.
But overall, he ate well: crackers and cheese (separately) for breakfast; pea stew and pears for lunch; lots of milk for snack time; and gnocchi in marinara sauce for dinner.
Not bad.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Born Free Sippy Cup--different color?
Ivan has completely accepted the sippy cup, at least the Born Free kind, while I've mourned over the end of the bottle era.
Last weekend I finally went to buy more sippy cup inserts and another bottle so I alternate between the two instead of constsantly washing the one and only bottle.
The first bottle I bough was blue. The one I bough last weekend was orange. As I left the story, it occur to me in passing whether he'll notice the different color and whether he'll accept it, but I didn't really think much of it.
Was I right! I gave him the orange bottle (they're both see through) when he woke up in the morning. He took it in his hands, then laid back down on his stomach holding the bottle in both arms, and then examined it. I feared he'd start fussing. But he didn't. After he examined the bottle (and mine saying "it's the same bottle, except this one is orange), he started drinking from it.
And regarding bottles, I still haven't thrown out the Avent bottles. I'm not sure why. I have no more nipples, just the bottle parts. Am I saving them for baby number 2? Probably not. I will probably buy new ones. So will they ever be used again? Probably not.
I'm not sure why I'm saving them, but I can't get myself to throwh them out. Yet I still have them in my cupboard with other glasses, along with the pacifiers which he hasn't used in over a year.
Last weekend I finally went to buy more sippy cup inserts and another bottle so I alternate between the two instead of constsantly washing the one and only bottle.
The first bottle I bough was blue. The one I bough last weekend was orange. As I left the story, it occur to me in passing whether he'll notice the different color and whether he'll accept it, but I didn't really think much of it.
Was I right! I gave him the orange bottle (they're both see through) when he woke up in the morning. He took it in his hands, then laid back down on his stomach holding the bottle in both arms, and then examined it. I feared he'd start fussing. But he didn't. After he examined the bottle (and mine saying "it's the same bottle, except this one is orange), he started drinking from it.
And regarding bottles, I still haven't thrown out the Avent bottles. I'm not sure why. I have no more nipples, just the bottle parts. Am I saving them for baby number 2? Probably not. I will probably buy new ones. So will they ever be used again? Probably not.
I'm not sure why I'm saving them, but I can't get myself to throwh them out. Yet I still have them in my cupboard with other glasses, along with the pacifiers which he hasn't used in over a year.
At Mimi's and Papi's
On Sunday we went to visit Andy's parents for his grandfather's 94th birthday. We left Mr. Meh with them for the week because my dad's away and there's no one to take care of him this week.
We're going to pick him up tomorrow, Thursday, after work. I can hardly wait. I can't wait to see him. Not having him here at home, I feel like a part of me is missing.
But it seems that he's been having fun over there. I was somewhat apprehensive on Sunday because he seemed more clingy to me than usual. When we arrived there, he was a bit shy, clinging to me before eventually loosening up and exploring the house.
Although, strangely enough, he remembered right away where in the kitchen he needs to stand to ask for a cookie. Eventually on Sunday he had a blast opening and closing drawers, pulling stuff out, and playing with balloons. Andy's mom had gotten a bunch of balloons for the birthday celebration. Ivan had a blast.
In the evening, when it was time to put him to bed, he didn't go down easy. He was fine taking a bath, but not going to bed. I wondered whether it ws because he was too tired or because he knew something was up and didn't want to go to sleep. After a few failed try to put him to bed and repeated plays, I finally left him in the crib to cry and fall asleep. Which he did within 10 minutes or so, which seemed longer than eternity.
Driving back home on Sunday, I felt awful for leaving him. I feared he was going to wake up in the morning and feel like we abandoned him. I could picture him calling out inquisitively, as he always does, "mama?" "dadda?"
But Monday morning he woke up with a big grin on his face and didn't skip a beat. Andy's mom said they had a blast. She took him to a pet store among other places, where he was in awe of the fish tanks (wanted to put his hands in it), recognized turtles (yeah, we have a stuff animal turtle, there is a turtle in a book of his , and there as the back yard tortoise Tatters that resided in our yard for a few weeks this summer), and met a parrot.
There was a parrot in the store that kept saying "hello." Ivan apparently cracked up and was laughing at the parrot, which in turn kept saying more "hellos," which got Ivan to laugh more.
I wish I had been there to see that. I keep trying to picture it and laugh at it.
On Tuesday they went to a creek and today they stayed at home. Andy's mom says he was rather exhausted and slept a lot today.
I can't wait to see him tomorrow.
As both grandmas agree, having him away from home for three nights is really pushing it. Andy's mom noticed that with each passing day, he seems to get a bit more "concerned." She noticed that he misses us.
We're going to pick him up tomorrow, Thursday, after work. I can hardly wait. I can't wait to see him. Not having him here at home, I feel like a part of me is missing.
But it seems that he's been having fun over there. I was somewhat apprehensive on Sunday because he seemed more clingy to me than usual. When we arrived there, he was a bit shy, clinging to me before eventually loosening up and exploring the house.
Although, strangely enough, he remembered right away where in the kitchen he needs to stand to ask for a cookie. Eventually on Sunday he had a blast opening and closing drawers, pulling stuff out, and playing with balloons. Andy's mom had gotten a bunch of balloons for the birthday celebration. Ivan had a blast.
In the evening, when it was time to put him to bed, he didn't go down easy. He was fine taking a bath, but not going to bed. I wondered whether it ws because he was too tired or because he knew something was up and didn't want to go to sleep. After a few failed try to put him to bed and repeated plays, I finally left him in the crib to cry and fall asleep. Which he did within 10 minutes or so, which seemed longer than eternity.
Driving back home on Sunday, I felt awful for leaving him. I feared he was going to wake up in the morning and feel like we abandoned him. I could picture him calling out inquisitively, as he always does, "mama?" "dadda?"
But Monday morning he woke up with a big grin on his face and didn't skip a beat. Andy's mom said they had a blast. She took him to a pet store among other places, where he was in awe of the fish tanks (wanted to put his hands in it), recognized turtles (yeah, we have a stuff animal turtle, there is a turtle in a book of his , and there as the back yard tortoise Tatters that resided in our yard for a few weeks this summer), and met a parrot.
There was a parrot in the store that kept saying "hello." Ivan apparently cracked up and was laughing at the parrot, which in turn kept saying more "hellos," which got Ivan to laugh more.
I wish I had been there to see that. I keep trying to picture it and laugh at it.
On Tuesday they went to a creek and today they stayed at home. Andy's mom says he was rather exhausted and slept a lot today.
I can't wait to see him tomorrow.
As both grandmas agree, having him away from home for three nights is really pushing it. Andy's mom noticed that with each passing day, he seems to get a bit more "concerned." She noticed that he misses us.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Ivan's returned from Grandma's
Ivan came back from Grandma's today. My dad and he came to pick me up at the metro station. He gave me the biggest smile when he saw me. I sat in the back with him and we giggled.
At the house, he was distracted to come into the yard as some workers were felling trees across the street. But as soon as I said, "let's go in to say hi to Mariposa," he quickly came into the yard.
He walked into the house like he owned the place. Our little boss. Mariposa was really excited to see him and gave me thorough licks.
The first two things he did on the porch as soon as he stepped on it, were to put the white plastic cover over an open socket, and pointed to Mariposa's leash, which was dangling, to wrap it further up.
That was so funny. Nothing escapes him. He knows exactly where things go.
For dinner he got meatballs and beans. (What's up with him and beans. He loves them. I find that funny. At least he hasn't been farting beans.)
Both Andy and I remarked that in these few days that we didn't seen Ivan, that he changed. He looks different. His face and expression have changed. And he seems bigger, more mature, more babbly.
A little boy.
Where and when did my baby go?
(And yes, the Born Free sippy cup continues to be a success!)
At the house, he was distracted to come into the yard as some workers were felling trees across the street. But as soon as I said, "let's go in to say hi to Mariposa," he quickly came into the yard.
He walked into the house like he owned the place. Our little boss. Mariposa was really excited to see him and gave me thorough licks.
The first two things he did on the porch as soon as he stepped on it, were to put the white plastic cover over an open socket, and pointed to Mariposa's leash, which was dangling, to wrap it further up.
That was so funny. Nothing escapes him. He knows exactly where things go.
For dinner he got meatballs and beans. (What's up with him and beans. He loves them. I find that funny. At least he hasn't been farting beans.)
Both Andy and I remarked that in these few days that we didn't seen Ivan, that he changed. He looks different. His face and expression have changed. And he seems bigger, more mature, more babbly.
A little boy.
Where and when did my baby go?
(And yes, the Born Free sippy cup continues to be a success!)
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Ivan at Grandmas
Yesterday, Tuesday, my parents took Ivan for two days to look after him at their house. It makes it a bit easier on them. We don't mind.
But last night and today (morning and evening) it's been awfuly quiet and tidy around here.
Also, this morning, although my phone alarm was set for 6 a.m., we didn't hear it, but overslept. We woke up, refreshed, around 7:30 a.m.
We did the same thing a few months ago when my parents took Ivan. We slept until almost 8 a.m. and were late to work.
Oops.
It's funny how our minds, at least mine, work subconsciously. When Ivan's here, I must always be on some subconscious alert, because I hear his smallest stir or sound. When I know he's not here, that alert must get turned off because I can sleep through more annoying and loud things, such as alarm noises.
But last night and today (morning and evening) it's been awfuly quiet and tidy around here.
Also, this morning, although my phone alarm was set for 6 a.m., we didn't hear it, but overslept. We woke up, refreshed, around 7:30 a.m.
We did the same thing a few months ago when my parents took Ivan. We slept until almost 8 a.m. and were late to work.
Oops.
It's funny how our minds, at least mine, work subconsciously. When Ivan's here, I must always be on some subconscious alert, because I hear his smallest stir or sound. When I know he's not here, that alert must get turned off because I can sleep through more annoying and loud things, such as alarm noises.
Bottle v. Sippy Cup; the Born Free Resolution
After Ivan had spent most of Sunday’s playgroup playground time with a bottle dangling out of his mouth, I realized that every photo I have of him at a social event, he’s attached to the bottle. He does look awfully cute, clutching his bottle and exploring things……but he seems to be the only kid doing that. Granted, many kids his age are still addicted to pacifiers (two of the five in the playgroup), something he discarded on his own when he was about 9 months and I never brought it out again. However, I think the bottle had started to fill in the pacifier gap at some point….
So that observation, coupled with the fact that I’m totally freaked out about the looming prospect of lifetime of rotten teeth because he was on the bottle for too long, made me put my foot down.
I went out and bought a Born Free Sippy cup, which is apparently very close to the bottle, and a Nubby sippy cup with a straw (since he hasn’t tried mastering the straw yet.)
On Sunday evening, after the bath, I presented him with milk in both containers (he had gnawed on the water-filled Nubby sippy cup earlier in the afternoon and was content with it). A temper tantrum ensued. He wouldn’t have anything to do with either of us, but proceeded to cry his little eyes out while violently throwing the sippy cup on the floor over and over again.
The whole tantrum must have lasted 15, 20 minutes at the most. But it felt like an eternity, especially when he was giving us these looks of “how could you do this to me.”
As Andy jokedn “milk, milk everywhere but not a bottle to drink.”
Good thing Andy was there with me; otherwise, I would’ve given in and brought out the bottle.
While Ivan was crying, I had started second guessing myself. Am I doing the right thing? Will more bottle time really hurt him?
I heard my parents' disapproving voices in my head. I got angry at them and Andy, feeling they always undermine my resolutions, thinking back to the summer when I had almost fully converted him to a sippy cup. I remembered that random woman in the park I saw in the spring who told me that even 20+ years later, she regretted taking her son off the bottle too early. Because he’s a baby only once.
But the sippy cup transition had to happen sooner or later. And I realized that the longer we waited, the more difficult it would be.
After 15 minutes of crying, Ivan gave in, he must have been exhausted, and took the Born Free sippy cup. And that was the end of it. He climbed up on the bed with us and cuddled like he had done on previous nights.
He fell a sleep with the sippy cup without a problem. I have it back to him around 11 p.m. (I had inadvertently woken him up to take off the fleece pajamas he had me put on him). He took it again in the morning.
Monday night was the same story. No problem with the Born Free sippy cup. (Although I can’t really tell what’s the big difference between a Born Free sippy cup to and a nipple. They seem rather similar, but I won't bother pondering this one.)
On Tuesday, I got really sad at work. Is this really it? Have I succeeded? Another milestone achieved? Is the bottle saga over? Can I pack up the Avent bottles and nipples? It made me sad. My little baby is transforming into a boy with each passing day, making me yearn to stop the time and enjoy him as a baby as much as possible.
I had been so focused on prospect of rotten teeth and the stubbornness with which he clung to the bottle and the annoyance at my parents and Andy, that I never stopped to ponder the significance of taking the bottle away.
Now, it’s done. I think it’s done. I almost feel like bringing the bottle back out and giving it to him. But that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
Just like the end of breastfeeding hit me hard, this is starting to hit me hard as well.
So that observation, coupled with the fact that I’m totally freaked out about the looming prospect of lifetime of rotten teeth because he was on the bottle for too long, made me put my foot down.
I went out and bought a Born Free Sippy cup, which is apparently very close to the bottle, and a Nubby sippy cup with a straw (since he hasn’t tried mastering the straw yet.)
On Sunday evening, after the bath, I presented him with milk in both containers (he had gnawed on the water-filled Nubby sippy cup earlier in the afternoon and was content with it). A temper tantrum ensued. He wouldn’t have anything to do with either of us, but proceeded to cry his little eyes out while violently throwing the sippy cup on the floor over and over again.
The whole tantrum must have lasted 15, 20 minutes at the most. But it felt like an eternity, especially when he was giving us these looks of “how could you do this to me.”
As Andy jokedn “milk, milk everywhere but not a bottle to drink.”
Good thing Andy was there with me; otherwise, I would’ve given in and brought out the bottle.
While Ivan was crying, I had started second guessing myself. Am I doing the right thing? Will more bottle time really hurt him?
I heard my parents' disapproving voices in my head. I got angry at them and Andy, feeling they always undermine my resolutions, thinking back to the summer when I had almost fully converted him to a sippy cup. I remembered that random woman in the park I saw in the spring who told me that even 20+ years later, she regretted taking her son off the bottle too early. Because he’s a baby only once.
But the sippy cup transition had to happen sooner or later. And I realized that the longer we waited, the more difficult it would be.
After 15 minutes of crying, Ivan gave in, he must have been exhausted, and took the Born Free sippy cup. And that was the end of it. He climbed up on the bed with us and cuddled like he had done on previous nights.
He fell a sleep with the sippy cup without a problem. I have it back to him around 11 p.m. (I had inadvertently woken him up to take off the fleece pajamas he had me put on him). He took it again in the morning.
Monday night was the same story. No problem with the Born Free sippy cup. (Although I can’t really tell what’s the big difference between a Born Free sippy cup to and a nipple. They seem rather similar, but I won't bother pondering this one.)
On Tuesday, I got really sad at work. Is this really it? Have I succeeded? Another milestone achieved? Is the bottle saga over? Can I pack up the Avent bottles and nipples? It made me sad. My little baby is transforming into a boy with each passing day, making me yearn to stop the time and enjoy him as a baby as much as possible.
I had been so focused on prospect of rotten teeth and the stubbornness with which he clung to the bottle and the annoyance at my parents and Andy, that I never stopped to ponder the significance of taking the bottle away.
Now, it’s done. I think it’s done. I almost feel like bringing the bottle back out and giving it to him. But that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
Just like the end of breastfeeding hit me hard, this is starting to hit me hard as well.
New foods: gnocchi, cheese
(This post also also supposed to be recorded on the 15th, but the lack of an internet connection prevented that)
For the last two weeks, gnocchi have been all the rage. (I probably shouldn’t say this too often and to too many people as I’m bound to jinx myself.) I cut them up into four pieces, put them on his tray, and he eats them (by hand, after he gets too tired of trying to stab them or smash them with his fork.)
He’s also moved onto string cheese. He’s been eating two string cheeses a day. For example, over the weekend, he was out on the porch playing, when all of a sudden there was this big commotion and rush at the fridge. I opened the fridge unsure what he wanted. He pointed at the cheese.
This bring up the Mariposa Mariposa issue: Now when he eats any food, but especially string cheese, he has to be extra careful around Mariposa, who tries to follow him and corner him to get the cheese.
I tell him, "You’ve got to watch out for Mariposa, you’ve got to turn your back to her while you’re eating," etc.
So what he does is he runs to me to hide behind in order to protect his food from Mariposa.
For the last two weeks, gnocchi have been all the rage. (I probably shouldn’t say this too often and to too many people as I’m bound to jinx myself.) I cut them up into four pieces, put them on his tray, and he eats them (by hand, after he gets too tired of trying to stab them or smash them with his fork.)
He’s also moved onto string cheese. He’s been eating two string cheeses a day. For example, over the weekend, he was out on the porch playing, when all of a sudden there was this big commotion and rush at the fridge. I opened the fridge unsure what he wanted. He pointed at the cheese.
This bring up the Mariposa Mariposa issue: Now when he eats any food, but especially string cheese, he has to be extra careful around Mariposa, who tries to follow him and corner him to get the cheese.
I tell him, "You’ve got to watch out for Mariposa, you’ve got to turn your back to her while you’re eating," etc.
So what he does is he runs to me to hide behind in order to protect his food from Mariposa.
Cute things Ivan did over the weekend
(This was supposed to be posted on Sept 15, but for some reason my internet connection didn't work that night)
Dadda?
-When I’m home alone with him and Andy’s out, he goes around the house saying “dada, dada,” and eventually ends up in picking his shoes, saying “dada” or ends up sitting on the floor in our closet pointing to Andy’s clothes and playing with his belt, saying “dada.”
I also got great photos of him putting on Andy’s shoes. He managed to step into both shoes, and then turn his palms upwards, in the “ne” position, which for him means “no, no more.”
Mariposa’s toys
To cut down on any potential friction between our human baby and canine baby, we’re trying to impose a strict policy of Ivan’s toys versus Mariposa’s toys. They are not allowed to touch each other’s stuff. In Mariposa’s case, it’s mainly so she doesn’t tear apart stuffed animals and chews up wooden blocks or eats up crayons—the gold one must have been rather tasty. So it’s only fair that Ivan can’t touch Mariposa’s toys either.
Well, this weekend, Ivan picked up MP’s purple rubber bone, which had been laying in a corner ignored by both for weeks, and when to give it to her. Since Mariposa was asleep on the sofa, I said, “let’s leave it here for Mariposa and she’ll play with it later.” So we laid the bone on the sofa next to Mariposa.
Then I went into the kitchen for a second. When I came back out, there was another toy of hers laying on the sofa. Ivan must have found that other toy (the blue one that used to have three ropes to pull on) and given it to Mariposa, before he proceeded to occupy himself with something else.
Yet another clothing preference
This time it was a footie fleece pajamas I put in the "to give away" pile. (Although I have nothing against fleece jammies, they get kind of gross with all dog hair around the house, so it's better not to use them.) He had gotten in out of the pile the night before and had ask Andy put it on him on Saturday.
Then on Sunday, during our pre-bed play time, he found it again and asked me to put it on him. I put his arms through the sleeves and buttoned the top button. I let him go to sleep with it because he wouldn’t let me take it off. Finally, I had to go in later in the night to take it off because it was so hot in his room and he was so sweaty. I woke him up, but nothing a bit of milk couldn’t solve.
Dadda?
-When I’m home alone with him and Andy’s out, he goes around the house saying “dada, dada,” and eventually ends up in picking his shoes, saying “dada” or ends up sitting on the floor in our closet pointing to Andy’s clothes and playing with his belt, saying “dada.”
I also got great photos of him putting on Andy’s shoes. He managed to step into both shoes, and then turn his palms upwards, in the “ne” position, which for him means “no, no more.”
Mariposa’s toys
To cut down on any potential friction between our human baby and canine baby, we’re trying to impose a strict policy of Ivan’s toys versus Mariposa’s toys. They are not allowed to touch each other’s stuff. In Mariposa’s case, it’s mainly so she doesn’t tear apart stuffed animals and chews up wooden blocks or eats up crayons—the gold one must have been rather tasty. So it’s only fair that Ivan can’t touch Mariposa’s toys either.
Well, this weekend, Ivan picked up MP’s purple rubber bone, which had been laying in a corner ignored by both for weeks, and when to give it to her. Since Mariposa was asleep on the sofa, I said, “let’s leave it here for Mariposa and she’ll play with it later.” So we laid the bone on the sofa next to Mariposa.
Then I went into the kitchen for a second. When I came back out, there was another toy of hers laying on the sofa. Ivan must have found that other toy (the blue one that used to have three ropes to pull on) and given it to Mariposa, before he proceeded to occupy himself with something else.
Yet another clothing preference
This time it was a footie fleece pajamas I put in the "to give away" pile. (Although I have nothing against fleece jammies, they get kind of gross with all dog hair around the house, so it's better not to use them.) He had gotten in out of the pile the night before and had ask Andy put it on him on Saturday.
Then on Sunday, during our pre-bed play time, he found it again and asked me to put it on him. I put his arms through the sleeves and buttoned the top button. I let him go to sleep with it because he wouldn’t let me take it off. Finally, I had to go in later in the night to take it off because it was so hot in his room and he was so sweaty. I woke him up, but nothing a bit of milk couldn’t solve.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Very dirty; too much play, too overdressed
When I got home from work today, Ivan was so dirty and sweaty like I had never seen him before.
He had grime accummulated in all his creases (neck and elbows) but the nape of his neck and back were also covered in fine dirt. He must have been playing extra hard.
He was also drenched in sweat--his hair was all wet and he had sweat beads on his upper lip. I blame that on my dad. And it was hot and humid and rainy all day. Ivan was in the car in the carseat, in which he gets hotter than the rest of us because he's tightly enclosed and because less air circulates in the back of the car.
However, appropriately dressing Ivan has been one of those "low burner" annoyances I've had with my dad for months. He's always cold and hates airconditioning, preferring to swelter in humid, hot weather. Ivan, on the other hand, gets super hot and sweaty, more so than the rest of us. His head gets especially hot and sweaty.
The boy also runs around non-stop all day long from 5:30 a.m. until 7:00 p.m. save for the 1-2 hour nap.
And my dad was dressed in a short sleeved shirt with shorts. Ivan, on the other hand, was dressed in a onesie with a collar shirt over it and jeans shorts.
How does that make any sense?
My dad, of course, refused to hear my reasoning and refused to admit that maybe he's wrong and that Ivan was overdressed.
He had grime accummulated in all his creases (neck and elbows) but the nape of his neck and back were also covered in fine dirt. He must have been playing extra hard.
He was also drenched in sweat--his hair was all wet and he had sweat beads on his upper lip. I blame that on my dad. And it was hot and humid and rainy all day. Ivan was in the car in the carseat, in which he gets hotter than the rest of us because he's tightly enclosed and because less air circulates in the back of the car.
However, appropriately dressing Ivan has been one of those "low burner" annoyances I've had with my dad for months. He's always cold and hates airconditioning, preferring to swelter in humid, hot weather. Ivan, on the other hand, gets super hot and sweaty, more so than the rest of us. His head gets especially hot and sweaty.
The boy also runs around non-stop all day long from 5:30 a.m. until 7:00 p.m. save for the 1-2 hour nap.
And my dad was dressed in a short sleeved shirt with shorts. Ivan, on the other hand, was dressed in a onesie with a collar shirt over it and jeans shorts.
How does that make any sense?
My dad, of course, refused to hear my reasoning and refused to admit that maybe he's wrong and that Ivan was overdressed.
Early morning lack of sleep drama and the ensuing family bed cuddle
Two nights ago, Ivan woke up at 3:30 a.m. He was unconsolable and wide awake. He didn't want milk, he didn't want calm down and fall back to sleep. He didn't really want us to walk him around. He didn't want to lay in the bed with us but would quickly scurry off the bed to run around and play like it's 6 a.m.
Finally, after an hour of calming him, chasing him and trying to settle him down, we succeeded.
Andy hugged him and calmed him down. He laid between us in the bed and fell asleep.
That was the first time he slept between us.
It was sooo precious.
And Mariposa, of course, was at my feet.
A big bed cuddle.
Except I got the raw deal, actually a more raw deal than I usually get with Mariposa. Mariposa, on a good night, sleeps at my feet, which means I can't really stretch my legs out, which makes me feel not so fresh and rested in the morning. On a bad night, she positions herself on my side of bed. If I can wake her up, I push her out of my space and slide in. But on nights, when she's immovable, I simply give up and got to the spare bedroom (where I have a bed all to myself and can stretch out as much as I like.) Andy finds my Mariposa bed woes funny.
But this early morning when Ivan slept between us, he also really slept with me on my side of the bed, his little face next to mine. And I didn't dare to move for the fear of waking him up. So in addition to not being able to stretch out vertically, I couldn't even stretch out horizontally and unwedge my clothes.
But it was all worth it...to have Mr. Meh with us.
Finally, after an hour of calming him, chasing him and trying to settle him down, we succeeded.
Andy hugged him and calmed him down. He laid between us in the bed and fell asleep.
That was the first time he slept between us.
It was sooo precious.
And Mariposa, of course, was at my feet.
A big bed cuddle.
Except I got the raw deal, actually a more raw deal than I usually get with Mariposa. Mariposa, on a good night, sleeps at my feet, which means I can't really stretch my legs out, which makes me feel not so fresh and rested in the morning. On a bad night, she positions herself on my side of bed. If I can wake her up, I push her out of my space and slide in. But on nights, when she's immovable, I simply give up and got to the spare bedroom (where I have a bed all to myself and can stretch out as much as I like.) Andy finds my Mariposa bed woes funny.
But this early morning when Ivan slept between us, he also really slept with me on my side of the bed, his little face next to mine. And I didn't dare to move for the fear of waking him up. So in addition to not being able to stretch out vertically, I couldn't even stretch out horizontally and unwedge my clothes.
But it was all worth it...to have Mr. Meh with us.
Getting naughty and bad
Ivan's started to get a bit naughty and bad. He doesn't listen, or actually he listens but then tests our limits anyway.
He's also become a bit more difficult to put to sleep in the last few days. He seems to be hitting the "age of not being tired." Although I can see he's rubbing his eyes, pulling on his hair, loosing his balance a bit, laying down to hug Medic and drink his milk, he violently protests when I pick him up to put him to bed.
He cries. Throws Medic and other toys out of the crib. Flings his milk bottle onto the floor. Turns the light switch on. Stands up in his crib and cries.
I hope it's a phase that will quickly pass.
But on the positive side, I couldn't find the milk bottle he flung from the crib, and by the time I was going to go back to his room to hand him a fresh bottle of milk, he had calmed down and had actually fallen asleep.
So, that was an unanticipated score one for mommy in the milk and the bottle versus sippy cup war.
He's also become a bit more difficult to put to sleep in the last few days. He seems to be hitting the "age of not being tired." Although I can see he's rubbing his eyes, pulling on his hair, loosing his balance a bit, laying down to hug Medic and drink his milk, he violently protests when I pick him up to put him to bed.
He cries. Throws Medic and other toys out of the crib. Flings his milk bottle onto the floor. Turns the light switch on. Stands up in his crib and cries.
I hope it's a phase that will quickly pass.
But on the positive side, I couldn't find the milk bottle he flung from the crib, and by the time I was going to go back to his room to hand him a fresh bottle of milk, he had calmed down and had actually fallen asleep.
So, that was an unanticipated score one for mommy in the milk and the bottle versus sippy cup war.
It's all in the name
We struggled to name Ivan Ivan. Why? I wanted a Croatian name (to use that adjective loosely) that sounds good in English (and is pronouncable). I also wanted a short name.
Most of my suggestions--names widely used in Croatia, Dalmatia, or just those I liked--were struck down by Andy for one reason or another.
One name I really liked was Igor. But Igor has ugly connotations here in the US because it was the name of the hunchback from Frankenstein. This was Andy's immediate reaction to the name. (Two names he vetoed were Bruno, as an Italian-American pizza shop worker, and Luka, because of the "my name is Lucca, I live on the second floor" Suzanne Vega song.)
Regarding Igor, I thought, "ha who will remember that old black-white movie? No one."
Well turns out, an animated movie about Igor who lives in the land of Malaria (a nice development touch there) is about to hit the theaters on September 19. Who knows how this Igor will fare.
Another reason why we had trouble picking the right name is because the number cool boy names is much smaller than girls names.
It's kind of like clothes. Women's fashions are so much more versatile, colorful and full of options and choice. Menswear, on the other hand, can be divided into basic "clothes" groups--shirts, T-shirts, suits, jackets and pants.
We finally settled on Ivan two days after he was born as we were signing hospital paperwork. We debated between Ivan and Sebastian--a name I liked but which completely broke all my name-stipulations. We settled on both as his first and middle name.
Most of my suggestions--names widely used in Croatia, Dalmatia, or just those I liked--were struck down by Andy for one reason or another.
One name I really liked was Igor. But Igor has ugly connotations here in the US because it was the name of the hunchback from Frankenstein. This was Andy's immediate reaction to the name. (Two names he vetoed were Bruno, as an Italian-American pizza shop worker, and Luka, because of the "my name is Lucca, I live on the second floor" Suzanne Vega song.)
Regarding Igor, I thought, "ha who will remember that old black-white movie? No one."
Well turns out, an animated movie about Igor who lives in the land of Malaria (a nice development touch there) is about to hit the theaters on September 19. Who knows how this Igor will fare.
Another reason why we had trouble picking the right name is because the number cool boy names is much smaller than girls names.
It's kind of like clothes. Women's fashions are so much more versatile, colorful and full of options and choice. Menswear, on the other hand, can be divided into basic "clothes" groups--shirts, T-shirts, suits, jackets and pants.
We finally settled on Ivan two days after he was born as we were signing hospital paperwork. We debated between Ivan and Sebastian--a name I liked but which completely broke all my name-stipulations. We settled on both as his first and middle name.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Mr. Glee
Ivan used to be called Mr. Sunshine (and Mr. Meh), but lately we've decided that calling him Mr. Glee would be more appropriate.
He gets so excited about everything and everything he does is accompanied by this high-pitched sound of "oh, oh, oh."
I really must record him doing that because it's so cute and prescious.
(And yet, I've been so lazy to manage a video camera.)
He gets so excited about everything and everything he does is accompanied by this high-pitched sound of "oh, oh, oh."
I really must record him doing that because it's so cute and prescious.
(And yet, I've been so lazy to manage a video camera.)
New word-puc (and other bathroom humor)
My dad called me at work today quite exicted to tell me that Ivan learned a new word: "puc." What does that mean? It's a polite way/baby way to say "a fart" in Croatian.
Lately, Ivan's been farting (passing gas) once a day or so, really letting it rip. It's really loud but it doesn't smell. And every time he farts, he starts laughing those serious belly laughs. It's really funny. And it's even funnier that he thinks that farts are funny, so I can't help but laugh with him.
Every time he farts, I ask him/tell him, "Ucinio si puc," which roughly translates into "you've made a fart."
Apparently, my parents do the same. So today, after the fart and the laugh that ensued, my dad asked Ivan if he made a "puc" to which Ivan replied "puc." In other words, he's learned a new word.
This farting business is reminding me that he's turning into such a boy.
A few weeks ago, he scuttled off the sofa before I managed to put a diaper on him. So by the time I got a new diaper and got a hold of him, he was standing near the radio in the living room, pressing the buttons (turning the radio off and on). He peed.
And then he started laughing, making this deep "oh, ohoh ohhohh" noise. Such a boy, I thought. The beginning of a boy fascination with bathroom humor and behavior.
Laughing at a puc is along the same bathroom lines.
That reaction to peeing must have been the first time that he was aware that he peed. He's peed before standing in the bathtub, but since he is immersed in water, he must not realize it. (He had also peed a few weeks earlier when I was trying to catch him to put a diaper on him, but I don't recall him being aware of it and having a reaction to peeing like this last time.)
Lately, Ivan's been farting (passing gas) once a day or so, really letting it rip. It's really loud but it doesn't smell. And every time he farts, he starts laughing those serious belly laughs. It's really funny. And it's even funnier that he thinks that farts are funny, so I can't help but laugh with him.
Every time he farts, I ask him/tell him, "Ucinio si puc," which roughly translates into "you've made a fart."
Apparently, my parents do the same. So today, after the fart and the laugh that ensued, my dad asked Ivan if he made a "puc" to which Ivan replied "puc." In other words, he's learned a new word.
This farting business is reminding me that he's turning into such a boy.
A few weeks ago, he scuttled off the sofa before I managed to put a diaper on him. So by the time I got a new diaper and got a hold of him, he was standing near the radio in the living room, pressing the buttons (turning the radio off and on). He peed.
And then he started laughing, making this deep "oh, ohoh ohhohh" noise. Such a boy, I thought. The beginning of a boy fascination with bathroom humor and behavior.
Laughing at a puc is along the same bathroom lines.
That reaction to peeing must have been the first time that he was aware that he peed. He's peed before standing in the bathtub, but since he is immersed in water, he must not realize it. (He had also peed a few weeks earlier when I was trying to catch him to put a diaper on him, but I don't recall him being aware of it and having a reaction to peeing like this last time.)
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