Ivan talking; toddler logic

"We did it," Ivan likes to say when we finish something, like put groceries away, or successfully open something.

"This gozings here, this gozings here...," he says instead of instead "this goes."

"That one don't works-ing," when something is faulty.

"I suck" instead of I'm stuck.

"I grope it" or "that groped," he says for something that's tangled or knotted. "Grope" is his Cro-english which comes from the zagropati in Croatian.

***
Toddler reasoning:

The other day on the way to Baltimore with my mom, he said "chimney making clouds," when he steam come out of industrial chimney stacks near Baltimore off  95.
Today during dinner, his fork somehow became "fire." Then he decided that "fire broken." "Fix it." "Fire needs batteries."

Transitioning Daycare Rooms

Last week Ivan started the transition to the three-year olds' classroom. The idea was to take him to increasing amounts of time in the new classroom, until the week he turns three, when he would complete the transition. He first went over for a 1/2 circle time, which was then expanded to lunch time, then to nap time.

He knows most, if not all, kids in that classroom as they were all in his room until they turned three and moved over. Also, since the two and three-year olds are combined at the end of the day, and spent time in the three year olds classroom, he's familiar with the kids, the room and the teachers.

Both we and Ms. Yvonne anticipated that it would take him a while to transition, considering that he still occasionally doesn't want to let go when we drop him off at daycare and considering that he seemed pretty attached to both Ms. Yvonne and Ms. Azeb, his teachers.

But on Wednesday night when Andy picked him up, they told him he was ready to transition. He apparently didn't want to return to his two-year old classroom. So yesterday, Thursday, he made the transition.

I was very proud of him. He's no longer a "froggy," but is "butterfly" now. Andy took the frog from his cubby to bring home. I'm glad he thought of doing that. It's a nice gesture that I probably would've forgotten. (Like when I forgot to take Ivan's tag with all the birth info that was attached to his crib in the hospital. Luckily, I remembered to take it with Allen.)

Now, he has a new cubby with a butterfly on it. He took a photo of myself, Allen and him to put under the cubby. (I was trying to find a photo of Andy, myself and him, but despite all my picture taking and book making, I realized I had no such prints at hand to give him.) On Tuesdays, he'll take things for show-and-tell. He will also get a "library card" to check out books on Thursday and return them on Tuesday. Big boy stuff.

I'm a bit sad that he's left Ms. Yvonne's classroom. I really like her. He bonded with her, and she was really good with him. But that's what growing up is all about. Things change. Time to move on.

However, I'm pleased that he's transitioned so easily, without any drama. The three year old classroom is a bit more structured and they do more complex activities that are age appropriate. He must like that.

The Receding Hairline Phase; Smile

This week, Allen is a few days short of being five weeks old.

He's no longer a newborn but is quickly becoming an infant, although I still try to squeeze him into newborn clothes. However, the 1 size diapers are still a bit too large on him.

The breaking point for me was on Sunday night, a week and a half ago, when I realized that his head finally went through the growth spurt I had been watching for. The growth spurt, which occurs around that time, when the infant's forhead grows pushing the hairline back to the middle of the head, making the baby look like a bold middle aged guy. The side and sideburns however remain.
Not an attractive look at all.

I had been on the lookout for this growth spurt for the last few weeks. I vividly recall staring at Allen's head all day Sunday, without noticing anything, but then Sunday night, as by magic the head had grown and his hair line started reciding. It took me by surprise. When did it happen? How did I miss it. It literally happened under my nose.

When Ivan's head grew, I was shocked. My cute baby was suddenly a boldy. He had a strip of hair left around his forehead then this thick band of hair-less scalp, and then his actual hair. It looked like someone had shaved off or waxed a thick strip of his hair.

Allen's doesn't look so bad. He's just a boldy.

So while I actually don't know when a newborn stops being a newborn, this head growth represents a defining moment for me.

The last few days, Allen is also definitely more awake and alert, and, shall I dare to say, cries less. He has a very inquisitive, almost surprised expression. It's almost like a deer caught in the headlights look. He's had that expression since the day he was born,\. (Ivan, on the other hand, basically frowned the first year.)

Last Thursday I could've sworn he smiled at me. Not a gaseous reflexive smile, but a real one. Then on Friday, Andy said the same thing. Allen smiled. Over the weekend, he smiled at my mother. Then today, he smiled at me again. It was a fleeting spontaneous smile which he probably don't know how to purposefully reproduce yet, but nevertheless a smile.

Giving birth

Giving birth to Ivan took lasted more than 56 hours. Allen was born in some six hours. I wonder how " long" would labor with the third child last.

This makes me think of Mrs. Duggers , the reality star mom of the 18 kids plus counting fame. Apart from thinking the woman's nuts for having that many kids (does she even get to know all of her kids; does she spend individual quality time with them, the buzz words of modern parenting; can she even remember all of their names and call them out correctly at all times. I had problem differentiating between Ivan and Mariposa, and now that Allen is thrown in the mix, it's becoming a futile endeavor.) I wonder, how short and quick were her labors, let's say, for kids numbers 10 and above. Would she get contractions? Were they painful? Did she need to push out the babies or would they just slide out? Was she even aware that she was in labor, about to give birth?

Because what I keep picturing is that scene from Monty Python's Life of Brian (is that the one), where the woman is cooking when yet another kid just slides out of her and then she resumes cooking. Or the one and only image that has stuck with me from Pearl Buck's Good Earth, a book I read way back in elementary school, where the pregnant Chinese peasant is working in the field when she goes into labor, delivers the baby by herself--I think the child also just slides out of her--and continues working. Since that's the only bit of the book I remember after all these decades, I think I was probably somewhat scarred by that scene.

But on the more serious note, after both Ivan's and Allen's births, while I was convalescing at home, recuperating from labor, I kept thinking about all women in poor countries, and throughout the past, delivering babies in substandard hyegenic conditions, and then taking care of themselves and their babies in such environments. Needless to say, it made me really grateful for living when and where I do. It also make me want to get involved with or help organizations that work on maternal health issues in developing world.

Ivan Calling Santa

Ivan really enjoyed Christmas this year. To him, it was a days-long presents-getting fest.

Now he's been asking "where did Christmas go?"

For the last few days, since we took down the Christmas tree, he has been calling Santa on one of his many cell phones.

"Santa Claus, Santa Claus," he says. "Bring more presents."

Santa Claus has also become a member of the family. We've been differentiating between Ivan and Allen, saying that Ivan is a big brother and Allen is little, but that Ivan used to be as little as Allen.

Now Ivan says "I big" and then continues to recount all people who are now big but used to be little, including:

"Ivan bio mali, Mama bio mali, Dadda bio mali, Baka bio mali, Didi bio mali, Santa Claus bio mali."

Armchair Clubbing Mamma

The other night: a typical evening. Disheveled in appearance, I was sunk in the oversized sofa wearing my regular mismatched fushia pj/lounge wear--a fuschia pj top with white and green stars and hearts; a different fuschia pj pants with large pink, purple and orange polka dots--with Allen, my appendage, attached to my boob.

The new CD by Silverspoon Pickups, a band we discovered recently, which I got for Christmas, was playing. I lost myself in music; involuntarily, my head started bobbing to the beat. For a few stolen seconds I felt as if I were in the old 9:30 club. Then I snapped out of it. Still, Andy noticed.

"I just had this vision of you in a club listening to the band, like you are now, wearing those pajamas with Allen attached to you," he said.

Allen: Two Week Appointment

Last Wednesday we took Allen for his two week wellness check up. He did well. He was 21 inches long (his birth height), which put him in the 50-75 percentile, while his weight was 8.1 lbs, which was over his birth weight and which put him in the 25-50 percentile.

Upon listening to his lungs with a stethoscope, Dr. Madden detected a slight heart murmur, which sounded like a ventricular septal defect (VSD), which is a small hole between two heart chambers, a relatively common abnormality in infants. Dr. Madden didn't sound too alarmed about it but, nevertheless, referred us to a Childrens' Hospital cardiologist, whom we saw the following day at Holy Cross.

Apparently, VSD can't be detected right after birth because blood flow pressure between the chambers is low so the blood flow doesn't make a sound. (We wondered why the Georgetown pediatrician who checked Allen both days we were in the hospital and Dr. Madden's colleague, who checked him on his third day, couldn't hear it.) However, after a few weeks, blood flow pressure is higher in one chamber than in the other, and that's the sound that becomes audible.

First, Allen was weighted. He was 8.2 lbs, which was his actual weight without the diaper and post-poop. (He pooped in Andy's hands--four separate blowouts, which I've told Andy about but he had never experienced--as we were taking off his diaper.) Then they did an EKG, for which he wouldn't be still. Then, they did an echogram, for which he was very calm and focused. The room was dark with one sole lamp over the sink. I think he was mesmerized by that light.

The echogram confirmed that there is a small hole between the two lower chambers. The cardiologist also heard it (although his nurse couldn't). However, he didn't seem alarmed either. The hole is small, and he thought it would close on its own. (For larger holes, the treatment can involve medication or surgery.) Also, it doesn't mean that it will restrict Allen's life in anyway.

We obviously we surprised to learn this and aren't happy about it. But I'm trying to follow the doctors' suite and not be too alarmed about it. However, I'm beginning to get concerned that I'm too nonchalant about it and that I ought to be more concerned about it.

We're going back in two months for a follow up check-up. Depending what the doctor says then, I'll adjust my anxiety level.

Not letting go of Ivan

I keep looking at what a big boy Ivan has become, especially when he's sleeping peacefully at night. I feel like time is running away from me and that he's slowly but surely slipping away from me. I just want to hold him and hug him tight and not let go of him because I fear if I do that he'll go away and I'll never catch him again. I know this is probably a premature thought considering that he's not even three years old, but I know that eventually it's inevitable.

That brings uncontrollable tears to my eyes. I'm sure these feelings are super-amplified because I'm on a post-partum emotional rollercoaster, but they're nevertheless there.

And then I think back to last month, when I took him to church for St. Nicholas Day, when they were distributing presents for kids (well, the parents each brought a present and someone dressed up as St. Nicholas after the mass and gave presents to the kids.) This was the first time since he was a baby that we took him to the church, so he really had no recollection of ever being there. He behaved very well. While we were waiting for St. Nicholas to come, some of the kids--mostly older girls, who I assume come to Sunday school regularly, had lined up in front of the altar so parents could take their pictures. I made Ivan go up there as well. He willingly listened and obeyed. He was the last one in line, looking at me, smiling and listening to me. He was the smallest one up there. I don't know whether he felt lost and confused, considering he had never been there and didn't know any of the kids, but he stood there, and listened to me. I felt like I could've asked him to do anything and that he'd listen. It made me realize how small, vulnerable and totally trusting he was of me, his mother. And I just wanted to hug him, squeeze him tight to protect him and never let go.

Keeping Bunnies Out

For months now, Ivan has been talking about bunnies. He's especially concerned that bunnies will get in, or that they won't get in.

As his speech and imagination have developed over the last few months, and especially in the last few weeks, the bunnies conundrum keeps getting more complicated. Now, he insists on having his imaginary play doors, which can be anything from my legs to invisible pretend doors to his house (e.g. the leather couch), closed so that bunnies don't get in.

Even when we play with blocks and build houses or garages, the "doors" need to be shut or open "so that bunnies don't get in." Or the child gate at the top of the stairs, or the actual doors. They must be closed or open so that bunnies don't get in.

Earlier this week, he was pointing to imaginary animals that were either on the edge of the rug or under the rug. I wasn't sure of their actual location since he kept lifting the carpet. But in any case, that's were the bunnies' cage was. Keeping bunnies in a cage was a new word, a new concept. His imagination is definitely working and developing.

He's been concerned with bunnies for the last 4-5 months, at least. We have no clue how this bunnies' concern originated. Over the summer he saw bunnies in Andy's parents' yard. He also frequently saw bunnies at the park with my parents. I'm sure he's seen bunnies with us as well. He has several stuffed bunnies toys, but he never really plays with them or pays attention to them. (Although I'm sure if I were to remove them, he'd notice in a second. "That mine, that mine," he'd cry.) We don't have any books where bunnies are the main protagonist (except for the bunny in the "Good Night Moon" book.)

Maybe it's something he's heard or learned in daycare. I keep meaning to ask Ms. Yvonne, but I keep forgetting. I mean, what do I say, "do you talk about keeping bunnies in or out?"

Andy asked him the other night, what would happen if bunnies would get in. "They would bite me," Ivan said while jumping on the bed in his regular post-bath, pre-bed time segment.

We became concerned that maybe he's really afraid of bunnies. But why or how? He's never been bitten by anything, so why that fear. It's also very likely he said that just to say something without realizing the meaning of his words, which is something he says often these days, when he repeats words or phrases he's heard without full understanding of what they mean.

In any case, I'm sure the pretend imaginary bunnies are here to stay.

Ivan's Diet (Cream Cheese Sandwiches)

For the last few months, Ivan's staple food for breakfast, dinner and any snack in between has been cream cheese sandwiches.

It's been some four months or so that he's been eating cream cheese sandwiches for breakfast. He'd wait for me to open the fridge door so he can get the cream cheese and bread out of the fridge and then we'd go to get a "spate" (eg. plate) and "mali noz," which is a spreading knife, so he can spread the cheese himself. He knows that he can use the "mali noz," but that the "veliki noz" (big knife) "mamma and dadda have. I can't have it," he says.

Our breakfast routine used to be that he tries to spread the cheese, but then I have to take over and spread it better, covering all "bups" (holes) and cut the sandwich in half. He'd eat one half, leaving the crust, and I'd get the other half, which I was required to eat. Then he'd get another piece of bread. We'd repeat the process. He'd eat his half and I'd have to eat my half. Then he'd get a third piece of bread, if he was still hungry. I'd offer him my half of the second slice, but no, he wouldn't take it. That was my half. He'd get himself a third slice of bread. So he'd eat his third half, and I'd been stuck with the other half. I ate so many cream cheese sandwich halves in the fall, that I couldn't take it anymore.

Now he can open the fridge door himself so he goes to help himself to cream cheese and bread whenever he likes. If we serve something for dinner he doesn't want to eat, he goes to the fridge to get the cheese. He'll also eat both halves of the bread although I still need to help him spread the cheese and cut it in half. He tries hard to spread the cheese himself, which is fine with me, since it's a fine motor skill he's practicing (cheese spreading) but he still needs help to finesse it and spread it out evenly.

Cheese

Then for a few weeks in November, he had stopped eating cream cheese sandwiches for breakfast. Instead, he'd grab the jumbo shredded cheese, request a place and spoon and eat that. That was his preferred breakfast for a while. Unfortunately, I coudln't really pretend that such cheese eating was unacceptable considering that I used to do the same thing: eat spoonfuls of shredded cheese.

Fruits and Veggies

On a healthier note, he added another fruit to his diet: clementine oranges. So now, he eats two fruits: bananas and oranges. I'm thrilled about it. I don't know whether he decided to try an orange because he sees me gob down 4-5 oranges in one sitting, but one day I asked whether he wants to try it and he did. I was shocked. Now he goes to the orange bowl and gets several oranges for me to peel for him. I'm definitely not complaining. If he wants to eat 4-5 clementines in one sitting, I'll cheer him on.

He's still pretty much anti-veggies, unless it's peas and beans (are beans veggies?). He has, however, on a few odd occasions zestfully taken a forkful of lettuce and ate it. I assume he'd see Andy and I eat the lettuce/salad with gusto and he just couldn't resist.

Then he also tried baby carrots with hummus. But eventually, he'd just lick the hummus of the carrot and wouldn't actually eat the carrot (or would chew it and then spit it out).


Chocolate
His sweet tooth for chocolate, cakes and cookies continues unabated. He constantly wants them, and my parents, my dad, actually, continues to indulge him over my loud protests and annoyances.

And now, since, he's slowly becoming a sly three year-old, he knows that we won't give him sweets, so he puts on the sweetest, cutest, most mischievous expression he can muster to ask us in a sweet, smiley voice "cookie?" Unfortunately, this strategy usually works.

Ivan: Waiting for Allen's Arrival; Reacting to Allen

While we were waiting for Allen to be born, Ivan was at my parents' house. He went to stay with them on my due date, Dec 15. What we thought would be a day or two at the most, ended up being the entire week. It was strange and peaceful not to have him around. I think both Andy and I felt a bit surreal, as if we weren't really parents any more since he wasn't with us. We missed him terribly. We talked to my parents and him all the time on the phone, but it just wasn't the same.

He and my dad even came to "visit us" on Thursday for a couple of hours. It took him a few minutes to acclimate to the house and then he willingly went to Andy, but I initially got a cold shoulder. He was hungry so I made food. But when we went to the bathroom to wash hands, which is our standard pre-meal routine, he fought me. He wouldn't go with me and then wouldn't wash hands, and this is something we've been doing for months. I felt horrible. And then of course, my dad, who thinks he knows best and knows Ivan best, had to come and try to interfere. I don't know whether he does it on purpose or whether he's completely oblivious (I assume the latter) that such behavior and interference just hurts me even more. I had be warned by other moms to expect such rejection but I thought it would come after the baby is born not before.

Eventually, while he was eating his mac & cheese, he warmed up to me and things were as normal.

Actually, every time Ivan spends a few days at my parents' house, he comes back a little stranger. He changes so much in the few days that I don't see him, that it always feels like we need to reacquaint ourselves. But this time it felt so much drastic.

My parents, however, did say that in the morning he always asked for "mamma." He probably knew that something was off and about to happen: my stomach had been growing larger, he had been constantly warned about being gentle with mamma, etc... Also, during this stay, my parents tried to preserve his routine and were taking him to daycare. He must have found that odd, considering that the two--daycare and staying at my parents--have been always mutually exclusive in the past.

And during this week-long stay, he definitely changed. He seems to have gone through a growth spurt. He came back taller and stockier. The loose 3T shirts I bought in October are rather snug on him, while the 3T pants don't need to be rolled up as much any more. His fingers, hands and wrists also seem to be so sturdy, chubby and strong suddenly.

He's also talking much better: more fluently, using more complex sentence structure and, basically non-stop. One specific thing I noticed was that he learned to say "turn it off" instead of "off it". (I'm sorry that "off it" is gone; I liked that structure.)
I want to record him all the time.

He also came back very happy and cheerful and has continued to be so even now, several weeks later. He's like a little delicious bonbon. He's my Sugarlump Lollipops, a new name I invented for him a few weeks earlier. (I started calling him Sugarplum as per the 'Twas the Night Before Xmas book, which he misprounced Sugarlumps. A few days later, he added lollipops himself. So that sealed the name: Sugarlump Lollipops).

Ivan came back to the day I returned from the hospital, Dec 24. I was apprehensive how he would react to me and to the baby. But he was such a little joy. He was so glad to see me, and Andy and to be back home. He was also immediately interested in the baby. He wanted to see Allen, bring him Allen's Medic and try to get his attention.

For now at least, he seems to have taken a liking to Allen, which is good. He's interested in where's the baby, if the baby's crying, etc. He tries to play with him, etc.

A few weeks before Allen was born, Andy talked to Ivan about how Allen will have his own milk and won't drink Ivan's milk; that he'll have his own diapers not Ivan's, etc, that he'll have his own Medic, not Ivan's medic, etc. Somehow then, Ivan designated the blue teddy bear as Allen's Medic and now he constantly tries to bring him that teddy bear. It's cute.

However, he does need his mamma. He especially tries to sit in my lap when I'm nursing Allen. If it's feasible, I try to accommodate him on my lap.

I'm also trying to have alone time with him, and especially preserve our bedtime routine, where Andy gives him a bath and then I read him a book, tuck him to bed and fall asleep with him.

Then last Sunday morning, he declared that he wanted to wear underwear. It was a total attention-getter ploy, but since he expressed interest in underwear I thought I'd capitalize on the occasion. (This declaration, of course, happened while I was changing Allen who had just pooped in my hand and sprayed me with a surprise pee.) Potty-training lasted a day. Just like last fall, he'd peed and pooped through all pairs of underwear and pants within half a day, without bothering to tell us he had to go potty. We continued with potty training on Monday, but by they he reverted that he wants diapers. So the underwear ploy lasted a day. I'll give it another month or so, and potty train him in earnest.

Two Weeks

Allen’s two weeks old today. It feels like he’s been with us much longer. It’s mindboggling that only two weeks ago I gave birth to him.

The first few days—when I couldn’t really remember how to position him to nurse or change his diapers without getting sprayed with pee and having poop delivered in my hand—were tough but even they seem like a long time ago.

Since I returned from the hospital, I’ve left the house only once, two days ago for a quick run to Pier 1 and Whole Foods. Otherwise, I’ve been cocooned in the house, taking care of Allen, and hanging out with Ivan, Andy and Mariposa. Since it’s been extremely cold these past two weeks and since it's the holiday season, hanging out at home without a care in the world and doing absolutely nothing (which is a new one for me) has been great. And oddly enough it’s been strangely liberating, to do nothing. Andy fears that I've been going house-crazy but I really haven't.

So far Allen has been an easy baby. He’s been mostly sleeping, which is what newborns do. (Today he seemed a bit more alert and awake for a longer period of time than previous days.) He’s been crying somewhat, more so during the night, but nothing unmanageable. As a baby, he seems to be more “newborny” than I remember Ivan to be. What I mean is, he’s more flaky (because he was overdue), is more spitty-uppy but nothing excessive (which I’m glad Ivan wasn’t because that was one thing that used to gross me out in babies before I had them), etc. He seems to be somehow more delicate than I remember Ivan to be. I feel like I need to take better, gentler care of him.

He’s also full of these little noises and grunts that are just adorable. I have to figure out how to record them. (Every time I try to do so, he becomes quiet.)

Because he's been spitting up a bit (not much but definitely more than Ivan) and seems to have gas problems, I've been wondering whether my diet has been affecting him. I seem to subside on things that could give newborns trouble, such as citrus fruit (and I've been devouring clementines), chocolate, and dairy (cheese). One day I steared clear of those three foods, but I don't think it necessarily made a difference to him. However, since I need to back off chocolate, cake and cheese, so I can start losing some weight, a change in my diet would be good for both him and me.