Tips, tricks and adventures in parenting two kids.
Hayden’s best friend lives with us. Whenever he sees her, he stops whatever he’s doing to hug her and play with her. If she’s laying around, he’ll throw himself on the floor just to talk to her.
Hayden and his best friend—Whiskers.
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With a degree in Journalism, Cardiogirl has always been a careful observer of the world around her. She has worked in journalism, graphic design and marketing/advertising. Now a stay-at-home mom of two three daughters, she blogs daily at Cardiogirl.net: 19% body fat, 100% fun. To read more of her writing, subscribe to Cardiogirl!
The Real Secrets of Parenthood
When I was pregnant, and it became obvious, everyone told me how much my life was going to change. The main comment was about the lack of sleep that was in store for me. How I would be stumbling about wishing I could sleep for just 45 minutes uninterrupted. After I had the baby that did end up being true, but I always wondered why the only thing people had to say about a new child was negative.
I try to be positive when I see a pregnant friend and simply say, “Congratulations, how exciting!” because a new baby is exciting. I don’t want to contribute to the pessimistic karma following my fellow gestating sisters. But now that I have children, I feel that there are a few more secrets out there that parents guard fiercely, yet nod sympathetically when asked about.
Secret Number One: Teething is a drag.
It really is. It can start as early as three months old but will be in full force by the time your little peanut is six months old. It consists of red cheeks (on the face), excessive drooling, fever (sometimes) and constant crying and crankiness. It’s real fun. This does not end until your baby has roughly 20 teeth. Yeah, 20 times you’ll go through this. Keep the Motrin handy and don’t be afraid to use it. Liberally.
Secret Number Two: Potty Training is also a major drag.
It’s hard to teach a small child how to suddenly change a habit that is genetically ingrained. “No, no, honey. When you start to let your bottom relax (what does relax mean, Mommy?) stop and run to the toilet.” Yeah. It’s sort of like trying to teach a 2-year-old Greek and quantum physics at the same time. How do you explain what your bladder/bowels feel like to someone who doesn’t know the feeling since their body just takes over and relieves them of the discomfort? How do you capture a moon beam in your hand? How do you stop the rain from falling? It ain’t easy.
Secret Number Three: Vomiting/Diarrhea sucks it like no one’s business.
At some point in time either before, during or after Secret Number One and Two your sweet little baby will get the flu. Sometimes you will experience just one side of this dastardly duo: perhaps just diarrhea. Believe it or not, that is a blessing. It’s when your baby starts vomiting (and sometimes toots out a package in the diaper while simultaneously projectile vomiting) that the fun begins.
Why just two days ago I was vomited on three times. Yes, while I was holding the baby. Yup, all over the front of my shirt as well as on her shirt and pants. We had numerous baths and outfit changes that day. I tried to imagine I was modeling the latest fashions in Milan and this was just one more costume change before I made it back out on the catwalk. That didn’t help.
I’m just saying that every step of parenthood is fraught with challenges. It’s a completely different culture and once you join the ranks you, too, will be privy to the secrets. Whether the new parents down the street realizes that or not, they will be initiated soon enough.
So next time you see a pregnant woman, simply say “Congratulations.”
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It’s been almost two weeks since he said it, but Hayden’s first official “word” (which, I do have to admit, is a bit arbitrary) happened to be one of the ones he was already very good at signing: “More.”
Yes, he said “Daddy” in July (though he refuses to now), and “Mommy” and “Nana” (which quickly became “Nanny”) in August, but aside from “Mommy,” this is really the first word that he’s said that he repeats consistently.
And, within a week, he had a new reason for repeating it: his first television show.
It was an accident, really. I figured I’d switch on a kids’ show. Blue’s Clues was on, according to the television schedule, followed by a show I’d only heard about. Everyone I knew who’d seen this show complained and whined about it being bizarre and scary and annoying.
And when I turned on the TV, it was on. Hayden sat down on the floor and couldn’t take his eyes off the screen.
And then we were hooked.
So in the last week, Hayden has added two new words to his vocabulary: “ha da” or “da da” (hot dog) and “Bah” or “Bah Bah” for our new favorite past time,
Yo Gabba Gabba!
I’ve even gotten Ryan in on the act. He says that the fact that one of the creators of Yo Gabba Gabba is an Aquabat has no bearing on his liking of the show (he’s a fan) (of both, I think). I’ve also been corrupting my currently-childless sister Jaime and sister-in-law Jess.
Possibly the worst part? The other day after Hayden had been in bed for a while, and I realized I hadn’t heard any Yo Gabba Gabba for several hours.
And I missed it.
Thank heavens for YouTube! Of course, that does mean that the computer is now Hayden’s personal Yo Gabba Gabba viewer. He walks up to whoever is on the computer and begins signing and begging, “Moooore!”
Oop, and here he comes now…
Hayden has hit a few fun milestones recently that I’m excited to share!
Body parts. No, he doesn’t have new body parts, but while we were in NC, we discovered that Hayden already knew many of his body parts—eyes, nose (which he always has to pinch), mouth (which is sticking his tongue out), belly (which apparently means “chest” to him), feet, toes, teeth, tongue. You know, the good ones. After we discovered that, we taught him ears, hair, hands, fingers and bummy (you have to see that one!) and are working on knee and chin. (Just add shoulders and we got a whole song!)
New signs. He’s recently picked up some new signs: “cheese,” and “piggy” (the animal, not the toes). He’s also gotten more consistent with his old standbys. His current favorite (by a long shot) is “more,” followed by “kitty,” “milk” and “doggy” (which still looks exactly like “birdie”). Updated to add: “candy.” Taught him that one this week. Big mistake.
Animal impressions. Although he’s still not interested in saying “meow” or “ruff,” Hayden does a spot-on impression of a bunny. Just ask him what a bunny says. (He pushes his bottom lip out as if pouting and then wiggles his pursed lips up and down. Bunnies don’t say much of anything, silly.)
First “phrase”. Hayden strung two signs together for the first time over the weekend. He said, “More cheese.”
Those fine motor skills!. Hayden rebuilt the carburetor yesterday—er, This morning Hayden came up to me while I was on the computer. He held my cell phone in his hand. He’d managed to plug in the tiny adapter to my charger (it’s like 1/8″ of an inch in diameter!). This evening, he successfully plugged in a USB cord!
Manners! Yesterday Hayden learned the sign for “please.” Please?! Holy cow. I was impressed.
He did the sign again today with almost no prompting—he signed “more.” I asked, “More what?” He signed “please.” (This sign is rubbing the palm of a flat hand in a circle on your chest—at first I thought he was telling me he dropped a Cheerio down his shirt!) As sweet and polite as that was, I would rather him tell me what he wanted…
Letting go. I’ve resisted giving Hayden a more thorough haircut than simply trimming his bangs and cutting the hair above his ears (although it’s been a month since even that one). In part because his hair is very fine and light and it took him so long to get it this thick, but also because, as my friend (mother of 6 sons) told me, “They don’t look like little boys anymore when you cut their hair.” A couple days ago, I looked at Hayden and knew it was time to cut his hair. He was already a big kid.
Hayden and I both have a tenacious head cold, so I may lay low for a couple days. We’ll see.
Two years ago at this time, I was a few weeks away from having one of my deepest fears confirmed. Seventeen weeks pregnant, I was not afraid of losing the baby or my child being born imperfect or unhealthy. I was afraid of something I had sensed for a while—and not only me, but my sisters (and even their friends!).
I was having a boy.
Do not misunderstand: I love my son very much and would not trade him for a daughter. But before he was born, I was very scared to have a boy because I simply didn’t know what to do with little boys. (Other than, as my great aunt had exclaimed upon returning home at age 2 and finding a new brother there, “put pepper in he eyes and chop off he head!”) (Note: this is not recommended or acceptable or legal.)
I knew girls. I knew daughters. As the oldest of four girls, I knew exactly what little girls liked and played with and wore and enjoyed and did. I could shop for frilly dresses and baby dolls and play kitchens and dress up clothes and baby schools.
I could not see myself choosing between the hammer and the fire truck, the matchbox cars and the tool bench. Buying tiny suits.
But most of all, I could not see myself changing a little boy’s diaper. That’s how afraid I was of little boys.
So, in truth, I hoped to have a girl first. If I could have a girl first, I felt, I would have a child that I could care for confidently. And then I would be ready to “experiment” with having a boy later.
But my ways are not His ways, and my plan was not His. My first was to be a boy, and even before the ultrasound confirmed it, I had a nagging suspicion of that fact.
I do not think that I longed to have a daughter so I could have a child that I understood. Perhaps watching my three younger sisters growing up taught me that it takes more than a common gender to understand someone else. My sisters and I are each different—though we do have much in common. But I have long known that I would have to get to know each of my children as individuals, whether we happened to both be female or not.
And everything else, really, is incidental to that. I can tell you now that my son loves to turn the wheels on his toy cars, hit things with his toy hammer and throw his balls—none of which I bought for him (okay, except for one ball) (which I had to buy twice). He hates to wear his ties, but doesn’t seem to mind wearing his little suits (which I did buy for him). I can even do diapers with complete confidence (which I think comes from having been peed on several times).
But the trappings of his gender seem to have so little to do with who he is. He loves to laugh—throw back his head and guffaw a guttural belly laugh. Perennially curious, he loves to explore and investigate anything and everything. And because he is a little boy and my preconceived notions of boyhood include aversions to girls and their cooties, his spontaneous hugs and kisses seem all the sweeter.
I still want a daughter at some point—two, actually. But having my son first has given me exactly what I thought I would get from having a daughter—confidence in my ability as a mother. So bring it on, future sons and/or daughters. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
This entry is part of the first Mothers and Daughters Blog Carnival. Sarah/SingForHim told me I could participate even though I have a son.
Here are some pictures from our vacation, specifically from the Museum of Life and Science.
Head in the clouds (a cloud-making bowl in the weather room)
Snake charmer
Climbing out of the Apollo Command Module Test Vehicle
Mission control (what they’ve put inside the Apollo Command Module Test Vehicle).