Parties everywhere

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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? 

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.

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.