Mom et al » toddlers

The Stages of Puke

Maria — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 21:41:49 +0000

I am tired today. I am so very, very tired. Why, pray tell? It is all because of this guy:

It was about 2:00 AM when I heard him crying through the monitor. I lay still for a few moments, hoping begging for it to be one of those “Eh, eh, eh, where is my binky, eh, eh…Oh. There it is. zzzzzz” moments. It was not long, however, before the cries became more pronounced and it was quite clear that parental intervention was required.

This is the scene that every parent of a young child dreads:

You walk into the room and are immediately hit by the unmistakable smell of sour milk. You proceed with caution, bracing your abdomen for the oncoming gag reflex. You turn on a low light and find your toddler sitting up in the bed, vomit all over his mouth and down his shirt. As a bonus there is a lovely pool of projectile on the pillow as well as on the sheet. If you are really in trouble your little one proceeded to rollover in the puddle of stomach innards before fully waking, resulting in bits of curdled milk strewn throughout his sopping and matted down hair. You curse the heavens and draw a bath.

That is the worst case scenario. Last night was actually not as bad. Yes, he required some minor clean up involving a quick sponging and a change of clothes. I murmured several utterances of thanks to the Projectile Gods, for the vomit area was otherwise contained to his pillow and a full change of bedding was not required. His vomiting was minimal and thankfully we were lucky.

Or were we?

See, here is where you can get into trouble. Here is where you could be in for a very long night. Here, is where you could have just experienced what I like to call none other than:

The Preliminary Puking

You think to yourself, that wasn’t so bad. You calm him down, clean him up, get him settled back into his bed with all of his comforts and return thankfully back to your own pillow. You lay there waiting for sleep, and just as you slip into a wonderful dream involving you and Hugh Jackman, you hear it. “Cough, cough, cough…splutter”

Round Two

Or, as I prefer to call it: The Second Coming

You understand now that this has the potential to go on all night. You calm him down again, clean him up again, and change his bedding again (by now you may also find yourself in the basement doing laundry at 3:00 AM). You mentally add in your head the previous amount of projectile volume with the current amount of projectile volume in what will likely be a failed attempt to estimate the amount of digestive content that could still be churning within the stomach of your little one.

In other words, you are betting the odds on the likelihood of Round Three.

Or as I like to call it: The Third Wave.

Here is where you really play the game, for you have a decision to make. Do you sit and wait in the rocking chair with a blanket supplement of towels laid over you both, waiting for the inevitable to come? Or do you risk putting him back in bed again?

Sometimes you have no choice. By then he could be so traumatized by what has just transpired, again, that he’s not having anything to do with his crib anyway. You proceed to rock him gently; half sleep half waking, whilst the red digital lights of the clock mockingly tick away.

And you watch as the sun rises.

………………………………………………..

The Second Coming and The Third Wave did not actually transpire last night after the Preliminary Puking. But it HAS happened, and knowledge of the fact that it has happened and therefore COULD happen again, is enough to infiltrate the quiet sleep of any mother.

I put my poor little dude back in his bed, listened to him stir, and waited. My heart jumped with every restless sigh and turn that echoed through the monitor. There I lay, trying to get back to Hugh (sorry Honey), but instead remained bleary eyed and awake, hanging onto the darkness; just waiting for the inevitable which never came.

But it totally could have…

Graduation

Maria — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 16:39:00 +0000

My children graduated last Friday. I know. Some of you are saying, “Wha? Aren’t your kids, like, really young?” Well, it just so happens that in the land of day-care learning centers, the kids graduate every year.

The philosophy was a tad bit hard for me to grasp in the beginning. Both of my children started at the center when they were about three months old. When my daughter was nine months of age and notices were sent out regarding the upcoming graduation ceremony, I couldn’t imagine her class would be included. Nonetheless, I was assured by her teachers that yes she would in fact graduate, cap on head and diploma in hand.

My husband and I bickered over the initial attendance. He didn’t see the point in holding a ceremony for children so young. Initially I was leading towards agreement. Did I really want to take time off work for an infant graduation? The answer inevitably was yes. I did feel the tugging need to be there; to allow us all to share in the experience. When the movie The Incredibles came out we both had a chuckle over this husband/wife exchange:

Helen: I can’t believe you don’t want to go to your own son’s graduation.

Bob: It’s not a graduation. He’s moving from the fourth grade to the fifth grade.

Helen: It’s a ceremony!

Bob: It’s psychotic!

It’s nice to know that even in the world of Pixar, someone understands.

So, of course we go every year…this being our fourth. It’s an awesome picture opportunity for the parents and a great chance for families and teachers to get together. For the infants and toddlers, they have no idea what’s going on. They try to take the caps off their heads to look at them. They try to eat their diplomas. They stare blankly at the crowd staring back at them, as numerous flash bulbs flood their eyes. Still, it really is very sweet, and proof that some things, regardless your perceived level of crazy, should not be overlooked.

Sofia, Infant Graduation ’06 Dominic, Infant Graduation ’08

Now that Sofia is in preschool, she has a much stronger understanding of what’s taking place, and has become an active participant. She sang and danced with her class, often looking over to me and Tony to see our reactions. She was so proud of herself, and we loved every minute of it, smiling and cheering her on.

Sofia, Preschoold Graduation ’09- smiling with her teachers and artwork.

Dominic, Toddler Graduation ’09- still a little like, “huh?”

Oh, and there’s cake too! How could I ever think of missing this?

All Done

Maria — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 17:21:00 +0000

It’s a fairly exciting time around our household these days. My son is now 16 months, and this is cause for much celebration. The first milestone to be acknowledged is that he is now old enough to not only attend the toddler class at day-care, but to get charged at the toddler rate. No more infant prices! We save a whopping $10 a week pretty much just for reaching a bottle free (at school) and self feeding status. Good job, Boy!!!

He’s still teetering around like a drunken sailor, but DAMN he’s fast. Most days are spent doing just about everything we can to avoid a repeat of this fine evening. Well, I guess that’s not really one that would fit into the category of celebration. Let’s move on.

Language! Here’s where we’re making some serious strides. Words and phrases are falling nicely into place. Hi and bye are stated appropriately on queue, and we can even throw in the occasion thank you. Mama, Dada, Baba (bottle), ball, uh-oh, and bubbles have made every day conversation. The newest phrase and by far my favorite, is “all done”.

“All done” is multifaceted in Dom’s world and can apply to a range of topics. Finished eating- all done; ready to get out of the tub- all done; is Sesame Street over- all done. But for Dom, it can also apply when things are not quite all done…just desired to be.

The process of diaper changes, nose wiping, and clean up after meals are all met with a repeated request that they be ended pronto. My favorite occurrence took place after his last bath- during the dreaded clipping of the finger and toe nails. He doesn’t fight me too badly during this process. I’ve become rather proficient at this level of grooming. He started slow as I attended to his feet first. All…done. All…done. By the time I reached the fourth appendage, he was full blown adamant that the job be terminated.

ALL DONE! ALL DONE! ALL DONE! ALL DONE! ALL DONE! ALL DONE!!!!

It’s safe to say he’s got that one down. At least he’s not saying “no” yet.

Patience

Maria — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 02:26:00 +0000

Moms and Dads will agree that the first few years of a child’s life are in great detail focused on milestones. I’m filling out a developmental form for our daycare, and it’s riddled with questions like when did your son start crawling, pulling to stand, walking, talking, etc. As I try to remember when these events occurred (oops, no baby book) I’m reminded of the anticipation I went through prior to each attained developmental goal.

My close girlfriends and I have a Facebook group where we report on the wonderful accomplishments of our children (right down to cutting the first tooth) on a discussion board. It’s a great way of sharing these memories and interesting to see how each child is developing. There certainly is no contest between us girls, but you can sense the nervousness that is emitted when one or several of our children has not met a milestone that others have (among the 10 kids we’ve got 4 babies born within 2 months of each other- some days apart). Those of us who are not first time moms have already lived through the mantra that eventually all of our kids will get there, and it does prove to be true. Yet as much as I have tried not to compare my own two children, very clearly different individuals in their own right, I still find myself doing it…and fretting a little.

Dominic has progressed beyond the toothless smiles, the gurgles, and the ma ma ma and da da da’s of infancy. His major words are mama and dada. He’s got only a few more words under his belt; “hi” and “baba” (bottle) can be added to the list. At 14 months of age, that’s pretty much it for the average day. He tends to shake and nod his head to express his wants/don’t wants. I try to encourage a verbal yes and no response, but at least I know he understands me. Sofia was talking by 8 months and had at least ten words in her vocabulary by the time she was a year old. In addition to yes and no, I must say “ball” to this kid (when he’s holding one) 20 times a day trying to get it out of him, but no dice.

Sofia was fascinated by books from day one. Now at 3 years old she stares intently at each page, naming and counting the objects, and describing every color. When she was first learning to speak we had a book of 100 every day words with pictures. She did not stop reading it until she could point out and name each and every one. That book is now torn apart because Dominic would rather eat it and tear at it than sit down with me and read a book. He has no interest in the pictures, and seems to really, really love the taste of cardboard. I keep trying, but so far to no avail. I also worry that I’m not trying enough. When Sofia was an only child we would sit and read book after book for an hour at a time on a nightly basis. It was easy to do so when it was just us. Adding another child to the mix greatly diminishes the amount of free time we have together in our few short hours before bedtime.

On the flip side, Dominic was sitting up independently by 6 months, crawling by around 8 months, pulling to stand by a year, and walking shortly thereafter. He is now walking 95% of the time, and is very curious about surroundings. Sofia didn’t crawl until just before her first birthday and didn’t walk until almost 18 months. She was much more content to sit and read or play with puzzles and stack blocks. I never had to baby proof a cabinet. She showed absolutely no interest in seeking out that which was not in her immediate grasp. Dominic prefers to seek out and touch, bang, pound on, throw (ouch) and eat anything and everything he can get around his eager little fingers.

I concerned myself so much with Sofia’s stationary activity before she became a walker. I found myself saying to people, “No, she’s not walking yet” with a duck on pond demeanor. Now I’m going through it with Dominic on a different scale. “No, he’s not talking much yet.”

My son is very different from my reflective daughter; so very physical in his exploration of his world. I know that he is doing so well in so many other areas; that his gross and fine motor skills are progressing as they should. I know that he adores his big sister and wants to mimic her every move at play, that he enjoys the company of his parents and is all smiles and squeals of glee when we get home each night, and that his personality and joy of life shines through as his teachers can report nothing short of how very happy he is each day. I know he’s got a lot of stories in there he’s dying to tell me, and he will find his words eventually. I know that there will come a day when I will under my breath, exasperated by the constant bickering of two siblings, wish for a moment of the relative quiet that I’m experiencing now. I know.

But can we get there, already?

Bracing Myself

Maria — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 18:21:00 +0000

My son’s new thing is to toss his left over food off the side of his high chair at the completion of each meal. This is surely a rite of passage for every new toddler. Details are hazy, but I’m positive my daughter must have done the same thing. I’m not so sure, however, that she did it with as much…gusto. If I’m not in the immediate vicinity and he has time, he will drop pieces one by one and watch them fall. If I’ve got a little more of my A game going and I present myself front and station before his chair, poised to clear the tray of food, he starts flailing his arms wildly, sending bits of meat and vegetables sailing to the carpet below in various directions.

Last night it was pizza. Clearly, my head was not in the game, as I looked over at him and realized about 10 pieces of pizza were grouped on the carpet as he leaned over the side of his chair. These were calculated drops. I ran over to pick up the pieces (thinking to myself…”how far past the 6 second rule have we come here”) that were supposed to be leftovers for lunch the next day. As I picked up and examined the specimens for ware, I felt something light, yet significant enough to notice, hit the top of my head. My darling little boy in perfect aim was dropping more pizza on my noggin. OK, note to self: Clear the tray before picking up the food on the floor.

I tried to stop laughing long enough to give him a stern “Dominic No!” in response to this personal affront to myself and my leftovers. His response drew a little shock and awe. He bared his lower teeth to his top lip and started huffing in and out at me. His very first display of ‘tude! And so it begins.

Soccer!

Maria — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 14:25:00 +0000

My daughter Sofia just turned 3 a few weeks ago. Whether or not you ask she is more than happy to let you know her age, which is followed quickly by “Mama is 3 and 5”. Sigh.

Having turned 3 years old, a whole new world is opening up for Sofia with lots of new and fun things to do. For starters, I have enrolled her in a fall soccer program through the YMCA. Soccer for toddlers; it’s a riot. One of her favorite things to do is run around the yard kicking the ball, so I thought this was going to be a blast.

First of all, what was I thinking signing up for a program that starts at 9:00 a.m. every Saturday for 8 weeks straight? It’s certainly not that I am sleeping at this time of the morning on the average Saturday, au contraire. My son makes sure that I am up with the birds. The process of getting everyone up, fed, dressed, packed, and out the door is turning what should be a calm Saturday into an extended work week.

But once we get everyone loaded into the van with the usual frenzied bustling and drive the 20 minutes to the field we’re in better spirits. On approach we see all of the on-time kids and parents dribbling balls around the field, and Sofia gets very excited screaming, “SOCCER!!!!” We make our way over to the coach (Am I out of line if I say eye candy? See pictures below), and coax a suddenly shy Sofia to join her teammates.

I wasn’t sure what to expect out of a team practice for a bunch of toddlers, but I was in awe of the structure that the coaches try to enforce. They warm up with stretches and jumping jacks. They run around the perimeter of the field in a (somewhat straggled) row. They go over in slightly exhausting detail how to stop the ball, put your foot on top of it, and of course dribble and kick. On the first day when the coach started going over the responsibility of each position, I thought, “yeah, that will sink in.” I’m guessing maybe a 10th of it did. But they all stood there and kind of listened.

While all of this was going on, Sofia was pretty much in and out in terms of participation. She likes the running and the kicking, and did learn how to put her foot on the ball. But a good percentage of the other time was spent running around in circles, making up dance routines and posing on the ground, or following some of the other kids around that were participating in other wayward activities.

I had envisioned practices to include a bunch of kids running around kicking balls at will. I’m sure that would only end in chaos and bruised shins, so this way is probably better. Either way, she’s having a great time, which is the point…right? Anyone else enrolled in fall sports?

Sofia exercising her right not to jumping jack.

Not the best picture, but trust me, he is very good looking.

I’m in trouble. Once again, this apple didn’t fall far from the tree.