When my mom takes Ivan for a walk around their neighborhood, they encounter numerous tacky front yard decorations, including some standard garden gnomes.
This prompted my mother to start singing the "Heigh, Ho" song from Snowwhite and the Seven Dwarfs and to She couldn't remember the lyrics or anything beyond the Heigh, Ho refrain.
But Ivan started singing Heigh Hos, so I decided to try to find that song on that treasure trove called Youtube from my iphone.
And there it was. Not just the Heigh Ho song which the dwarves sing while they're working in a mine, but also the song where they sing/dance with Snowwhite, and the one where they wash their faces.
Now, Ivan loves to watch these three videos on my phone.
"Heigh Hos, mama, find Heigh Hos," he asks me. He's particularly fond of the "Dancing Heigh Hos."
"Dancing Heigh Ho, find dancing Heigh Hos, mamma," he asks repeatedly.
I'm not sure whether he likes that video because the dwarves are dancing or because they play different instruments. It's probably a bit of both. I just recall him being fascinated with the instruments on that Josh Groban concert we watched on PBS a few months back. We need to take him to a live music performance, preferably a free one, a performance that's part of some outdoor festival, or maybe some high school production. I think he would enjoy it.
We've been listening to Heigh Hos for a while now. I've been using these videos to divert attention from from doing something he's not supposed to, and, more importantly, to get him to calm down and rest, and, cross my fingers, fall asleep when it's nap time. Since this summer it's been virtually impossible for me to get Ivan to go down for a nap. But when we sit on the leather couch and watch Heigh Hos, he occasionally does relax and fall asleep for a two+ hour nap.
The only problem with Heigh Hos is that occasionally the Youtube app doesn't work, which can be a major problem and disappointment for Ivan.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Buggies
I think that definitely my favorite recent mommy moment happened on Friday evening.
Ivan's nose has been slighly snotty over the last few days with an ocassional rivulet of clear snot protruding from his right nostril. Not the most appealing sight, but still definitely far from the excessively and continuously snotty noses many other toddlers are accessorized with year round. This used to gross me out before I had kids, and still continues to gross me out today. (Snotty noses are right up there with sticky hands and food smeared mounths.)
Eventually, the snot in question coagulated into a buggy which I could see in his nose. I tried all day Friday to get him to blow his nose, which he adamantly refused to do.
He was trying to pick the nose himself to get the buggy out. (This is something new he's been doing for the last few weeks. And when he succeeds, he triumphantly hands me the buggy. "Buggy, mama.")
But the Friday buggy was unpickable. So I attempted to pick the buggy out of his nose. It became my obession for the day. "No touc ma buggy," was the response I got every time.
This futile buggy picking went on the entire day.
That evening we went out to eat to a local Thai restaurant. The small, narrow, mom and pop restaurant was packed. The crowd was probably heavier than usual because the place had just been named the best Thai food in town.
Also, it was a bit later in the evening than would have been optimal for taking Ivan out to eat, but we hedged our bets. He was more or less cooperative, not on his best behavior but definitely far from a full tempter tantrum.
And then Ivan decided to get the buggy out. With no success.
"Ma buggy, mama, my buggy mama."
He wanted my help.
By now, the thing was humungous and crusty and well implanted in his nostril. But I was thrilled to finally be able to get this buggy picking mission accomplished.
So, in the middle of this small packed restaurant with people enjoying their Friday evening dinner, here's a mom picking her toddler's nose.
I tried being discreet, shielding his face and nose with my body and one hand, while doing the picking with the other.
It wasn't a smooth operation. The buggy was huge and well encrusted.
It took me a few tries to get a good grip on it to yank it out of Ivan's nose. It must have hurt as he got vocal about it, which probably attracted additional unwanted eyes to us.
But finally the mission was accomplished. The buggy was out and Ivan's nose was clear. And it a few Friday night dinners got spoiled in the meantime, oh well.
Ivan's nose has been slighly snotty over the last few days with an ocassional rivulet of clear snot protruding from his right nostril. Not the most appealing sight, but still definitely far from the excessively and continuously snotty noses many other toddlers are accessorized with year round. This used to gross me out before I had kids, and still continues to gross me out today. (Snotty noses are right up there with sticky hands and food smeared mounths.)
Eventually, the snot in question coagulated into a buggy which I could see in his nose. I tried all day Friday to get him to blow his nose, which he adamantly refused to do.
He was trying to pick the nose himself to get the buggy out. (This is something new he's been doing for the last few weeks. And when he succeeds, he triumphantly hands me the buggy. "Buggy, mama.")
But the Friday buggy was unpickable. So I attempted to pick the buggy out of his nose. It became my obession for the day. "No touc ma buggy," was the response I got every time.
This futile buggy picking went on the entire day.
That evening we went out to eat to a local Thai restaurant. The small, narrow, mom and pop restaurant was packed. The crowd was probably heavier than usual because the place had just been named the best Thai food in town.
Also, it was a bit later in the evening than would have been optimal for taking Ivan out to eat, but we hedged our bets. He was more or less cooperative, not on his best behavior but definitely far from a full tempter tantrum.
And then Ivan decided to get the buggy out. With no success.
"Ma buggy, mama, my buggy mama."
He wanted my help.
By now, the thing was humungous and crusty and well implanted in his nostril. But I was thrilled to finally be able to get this buggy picking mission accomplished.
So, in the middle of this small packed restaurant with people enjoying their Friday evening dinner, here's a mom picking her toddler's nose.
I tried being discreet, shielding his face and nose with my body and one hand, while doing the picking with the other.
It wasn't a smooth operation. The buggy was huge and well encrusted.
It took me a few tries to get a good grip on it to yank it out of Ivan's nose. It must have hurt as he got vocal about it, which probably attracted additional unwanted eyes to us.
But finally the mission was accomplished. The buggy was out and Ivan's nose was clear. And it a few Friday night dinners got spoiled in the meantime, oh well.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Recent Conversations with Ivan
Over the weekend I jotted down some of the current growing repertoire within Ivan's vocabulary.
He's increasingly stringing words together into sentences, both in English and Croatian, is trying to hold conversations with us, and likes to asks questions, or more precisely, ask the same question over and over and over again. He also promptly repeats, and misprononouces, everything we say:
Counting:
"4, 5, go" (which seems to have replaced the "ready, 4, 10")
"4, 5, 6, 'leven"
Conversation and question sample:
"Pour me jos sok."
"You need jos sok, mama?"
(Pour me more juice. YOu need more juice, mama?)
Sometimes he says "more juice" instead of "jos sok"; he uses Croatian and English interchangeably.
"Dat one not yours. Dat mines."
(This one is not yours. This one is mine.)
"Dat dadas."
(That's dadda's.)
"Ladies ciste ma kucu."
(Ladies are cleaning my house.)
"You have aqilo bite?"
(Do you have a mosquito bite?)
"You have a socks."
(You have socks.)
"Mama, open dat light."
"Mama, offed dat light."
(Turn the light on. Turn the light off)
"You cooking, mama?"
"Yes, I'm cooking."
"You cooking, mama?" he repeats the question, over and over again, as he's watching me cook.
Or the newest acquisition from yesterday when he woke up cranky.
"NO! Don't look me."
He's increasingly stringing words together into sentences, both in English and Croatian, is trying to hold conversations with us, and likes to asks questions, or more precisely, ask the same question over and over and over again. He also promptly repeats, and misprononouces, everything we say:
Counting:
"4, 5, go" (which seems to have replaced the "ready, 4, 10")
"4, 5, 6, 'leven"
Conversation and question sample:
"Pour me jos sok."
"You need jos sok, mama?"
(Pour me more juice. YOu need more juice, mama?)
Sometimes he says "more juice" instead of "jos sok"; he uses Croatian and English interchangeably.
"Dat one not yours. Dat mines."
(This one is not yours. This one is mine.)
"Dat dadas."
(That's dadda's.)
"Ladies ciste ma kucu."
(Ladies are cleaning my house.)
"You have aqilo bite?"
(Do you have a mosquito bite?)
"You have a socks."
(You have socks.)
"Mama, open dat light."
"Mama, offed dat light."
(Turn the light on. Turn the light off)
"You cooking, mama?"
"Yes, I'm cooking."
"You cooking, mama?" he repeats the question, over and over again, as he's watching me cook.
Or the newest acquisition from yesterday when he woke up cranky.
"NO! Don't look me."
Monday, October 5, 2009
This pregnancy
is definitely harder on my body than Ivan's was. And it's so true that all the aches, pains, ailments and a multitude of previously not experienced issues is hitting me sooner.
First, the entire sneeze/pee combo, otherwise known as stress incontinence, is really getting old. It hit me much sooner than last time. Hopefully, it will go away after birth.
Then, two Fridays ago, I failed the 1-hour glucose test, which meant I then had to take the 3-hour test. This included fasting the night before, and getting poked with a needle four times in three hours. For the last week, I've looked like a beaten up junkie with black and blue bruises up and down my arms. However, no one has called me to tell me I failed that test, so I assume that my sugar levels are OK.
Then, for the last month or so, I've been experiencing this increasingly painful pelvic pain. I first heard it mentioned by a yoga teacher. Then I mentioned it to the obgyn. They both dismissed it with a wave of their hand. Oh, it must be pubic synthesis, or the stretching of the pubic bones....or something similar. Wikipedia had a nice long medical entry on it. Well, this pubic synthesis is slowly but progressively getting unbearably painful, especially after I sit for long periods of time or get up in the morning.
And according to wikipedia and babycenter.com there doesn't really seem to be much I can do about it, but just weight it out. It may get worse before it gets better. And it may takes months after delivery for the pain to go away. Basically, I need to try to move my legs together as one unit. And apparently, yoga or swimming may help, which I don't understand how because most yoga poses and swimming are all about spreading legs apart to create space for the baby.
I hope it stabilizes because this evening, I can barely walk.
Who knows maybe all this pain and stretching now will make the actual birth easier, which, after 56 1/2 hours of labor, definitely wasn't the scenario with Ivan.
First, the entire sneeze/pee combo, otherwise known as stress incontinence, is really getting old. It hit me much sooner than last time. Hopefully, it will go away after birth.
Then, two Fridays ago, I failed the 1-hour glucose test, which meant I then had to take the 3-hour test. This included fasting the night before, and getting poked with a needle four times in three hours. For the last week, I've looked like a beaten up junkie with black and blue bruises up and down my arms. However, no one has called me to tell me I failed that test, so I assume that my sugar levels are OK.
Then, for the last month or so, I've been experiencing this increasingly painful pelvic pain. I first heard it mentioned by a yoga teacher. Then I mentioned it to the obgyn. They both dismissed it with a wave of their hand. Oh, it must be pubic synthesis, or the stretching of the pubic bones....or something similar. Wikipedia had a nice long medical entry on it. Well, this pubic synthesis is slowly but progressively getting unbearably painful, especially after I sit for long periods of time or get up in the morning.
And according to wikipedia and babycenter.com there doesn't really seem to be much I can do about it, but just weight it out. It may get worse before it gets better. And it may takes months after delivery for the pain to go away. Basically, I need to try to move my legs together as one unit. And apparently, yoga or swimming may help, which I don't understand how because most yoga poses and swimming are all about spreading legs apart to create space for the baby.
I hope it stabilizes because this evening, I can barely walk.
Who knows maybe all this pain and stretching now will make the actual birth easier, which, after 56 1/2 hours of labor, definitely wasn't the scenario with Ivan.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
You know it's bad
that the house is in disarray when your two and a half year-old spontaneously declares one evening, "yucky house," as Ivan did last night.
I was floored.
He, of course, repeated it first thing this morning. "Yucky house."
Now, the term "yucky" has entered his vocabulary in the last few weeks, and everything he doesn't want to eat (or he half ate) or things that he thinks are dirty, he declares "yucky."
However, this was the first time he used it to describe the house. And the house was truly yucky. It was very messy and it hadn't been cleaned in two weeks. The cleaning ladies were supposed to come on Friday but I had to cancel them. Andy and I were so busy with work this past week that we (or shall I say I) had really let the house go.
I just never expected Ivan to care and to declare "yucky house."
However, he is much more observant and aware of things that we give him credit for. As I guess all toddlers do, he notices and stores information to retrieve it at a much later date. It's happened several times now that he's shocked me with something that I didn't expect him to know or understand.
I was floored.
He, of course, repeated it first thing this morning. "Yucky house."
Now, the term "yucky" has entered his vocabulary in the last few weeks, and everything he doesn't want to eat (or he half ate) or things that he thinks are dirty, he declares "yucky."
However, this was the first time he used it to describe the house. And the house was truly yucky. It was very messy and it hadn't been cleaned in two weeks. The cleaning ladies were supposed to come on Friday but I had to cancel them. Andy and I were so busy with work this past week that we (or shall I say I) had really let the house go.
I just never expected Ivan to care and to declare "yucky house."
However, he is much more observant and aware of things that we give him credit for. As I guess all toddlers do, he notices and stores information to retrieve it at a much later date. It's happened several times now that he's shocked me with something that I didn't expect him to know or understand.
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