You Mean, She Can't Stay in a Crib Forever?

Over the past couple of weeks, we made the move from crib to toddler bed.  Sniff, sniff.  

LO loves her new digs, especially tunneling in the little comforter.  But for the most part, she still sleeps curled up in a ball with her face planted into the mattress.  The first night, she fell out.  The second day, I came to get her after her nap and she was sleeping on the floor in front of her closet.  Now she pretty much stays in the bed but wakes up A LOT during the night.  

This transition has been a bit scary because the concept of LO being able to get out of her bed on her own opens up a whole new world.  We had to baby-proof her room and put a gate at the top of the stairs so she doesn't wander the house at night.  At 21 months, I guess I'm not prepared for LO to have this level of independence.  It's really a loss of mommy freedom.  The crib was a place I could put her and know she was safe and that she'd stay put.  Until she figured out how to get her leg over the side.  Now the crib has been disassembled and sent to collect dust in the garage along with the changing table.  (Fifty bucks to anyone who can get her to lie on it).    

Another milestone in the books.  And they keep coming.  Next week: training pants!

There Is No Manual For This

There is no manual for being a mommy.  It's the world's most important job (daddies too) and you're on your own.  Usually, when you start a new job, they send you through some kind of training or indoctrination course, like when I worked at Disney.  But not this job.  Motherhood is trial by fire.  The stakes are high and there are no re-dos.  You can't just hit the BACK button.

Sure, there's plenty of advice out there if you look for it.  Actually, you may get it without asking, as people you don't know tend to do when they see your baby bump or screaming toddler in a supermarket.  You've got your own parents at the ready, willing to share unwanted advice, and you've got parenting classes and a multitude of books written by "experts" who want to tell you what to do but you're open to it because they're not your parents.

The book I've consulted most is the ever popular "What to Expect When You're Expecting," then "What to Expect: The First Year" and now "What to Expect: The Toddler Years."  I'm sure one day I'll be reading "What to Expect: The 'I Hate You' Years."  These books have been helpful at times, particularly while I was pregnant, but now I just find them annoying.  For every problem, their answer is the same -- it's okay.  It's okay that your child isn't eating much, don't worry, it's normal.  It's okay that you took your baby out shopping all day and she didn't get to nap.  It's o-kay.  It's not just these books; it's everything I read these days from parenting magazines to experts' websites.  Motherhood is hard, they seem to be saying.  You're excused from flying into that rage at your toddler for taking a magic marker to your sofa because mommies have feelings too and it's okay to trip up every now and then.  Really?

Which leads me to a young mommy I saw on my flight back from Austin last weekend.  She's no doubt been reading all of this literature and just letting it fly.  It started when she hit me in the security line with her stroller, but that's beside the point.  She tried to put her two-year-old into an open seat without her having a separate ticket, then caused a scene with the flight attendant for following the rules.  This caused our takeoff to be delayed.  The child screamed throughout the flight and this mother, I believe, was only making it worse.  She jerked the little girl out of her seat, hitting her head on the overhead bin, kept yelling at her to be quiet and generally ignoring the girl's needs.  After landing, she apologized out loud to the entire plane for her daughter, who was simply acting like a normal two-year-old.  All I could do was feel for that child and how bad her mom was making her feel.

A bunch of us waited for our checked-in carry-on luggage to be brought out, including this mom.  She sat the squirming girl on the ground, pointed her finger and said, "Sit!" as if she was a dog.  Of course, she didn't.  The mom continued out loud to everyone, "I'm not having another kid.  My husband wants one but I said no way, I'm not going through this (re: her daughter) again."  "This is reason for birth control right here."  I couldn't take it anymore.  I walked over and struck up a conversation just to shut her up.  I even offered to watch her daughter for a minute while she grabbed her bag and stroller.  Help a fellow mommy out, I thought.  But it was as if she couldn't hear me.  Or maybe didn't want to.  And just went on complaining.  I offered one last time, got my bag and left.  I felt bad for that mom, but what I really felt bad about what that poor child.

I never want to make my child feel that way.  No matter how overstressed I may get, no matter how many articles in parenting magazines say it's okay, I know better.  I came home and hugged LO and promised her quietly to always put her first and she said..."Okay."

Did My Baby Just Say That?

LO is talking non-stop.  Has been for months and now it's at a whole new level.  Sometimes it's chatter that borders on sounding Chinese, but most of the time it's pretty clear.  Here are a few of her latest comments:

I need chocolate.
Go see call Gram.
Where Daddy go?
Go see puter Cookie Monster.  (sesamestreet.org)
Slow... (walks really slow)  Fast!  (runs really fast)
Fish hiding.  Hi, fish!
Come on, Mommy. (as she drags me to her table to draw with crayons)
Look, firefighter!
The fan goes round!

She's also counting from 1-16.  I'm loving being able to communicate with her so much.  Every day that she seems a little older and more independent, I think of her at just a few months old.  I have no doubt this is how I'll always see her, even as she drives away to college, gets married and has a baby of her own someday.  I get it, Mom.  I get it.

Allergy Central

It's official -- LO is highly allergic to peanuts and tree nuts.  We found this out by giving her a bite of a peanut butter sandwich.  After one lick, she broke out into hives all over within seconds and started grabbing at her throat.  A quick dose of Benadryl and a rush to the doctor's office and she was fine, but it scared the pants off of mommy and daddy.  We subsequently saw an allergist who did a test, which confirmed it.  The test was awful.  A bunch of pricks all over her back and I had to hold her face down against me, still, for about 15 minutes, which for an antsy toddler is an eternity.

So I went to my local Pharmaca to pick up LO's new prescription for an Epipen, which I found out is not covered by our insurance.  These puppies are $175 a pop and I needed two packs because apparently a bad nut reaction can come back shortly after using the first pen.  As if using it once wouldn't be traumatizing enough.  I get the prescription and for some reason my intuition made me ask for a pharmacist consultation.  Sure enough, they had given me the wrong Epipen!  They gave me the adult dose pack, which is "way too much" for a child.  When I pointed this out, the pharmacist's eyes turned to saucers, then she minimized it, saying it could cause her heart to race too much.  I called bullshit.  "It could be very serious," she said.  I did my best not to reach across and grab her by the throat.  I could just see the headlines: "Deranged California Woman Attacks Pharmacist."  They would've left out the part where said pharmacist crossed a new mommy.  What if I had given that to LO one day?

Now we carry Epipens everywhere and I'm wondering if I need to have her wear a medi-bracelet when she goes to preschool one day.  Anyone know if this makes a difference?

After the allergist appointment, I put LO down for a nap and proceeded to clean out every last nut from our kitchen.  DH wasn't too happy about his organic peanut butter going missing, but hey the doc said a "nut free home."  Now I scrutinize every label on everything we buy.  The whole of Trader Joe's is processed in a factory that handles nuts and soy, two things we can't have.  (Dear Trader Joe's, why?  WHY?!).  Now my slacker mommy self can no longer nuke a meal in a pinch.  I give the tenth degree to waiters at restaurants when they promise me there's no nuts in a dish.  "Are you really really sure?" I probe.  "Maybe you should double check with the kitchen."  

They say 20% of toddlers grow out of this, so I'm waiting and hoping.  In the meantime, I've got my eye on you, mistake-making pharmacist and couldn't-care-less waiter.    

Workcation

When is going to work like a vacation?  When you're a SAHM.  I'm in San Francisco shooting a TV show this weekend and even though I've been up since 4:30am to catch a flight, I'm practically holding my eyelids open to savor every peaceful, quiet moment I can.  No baby monitors, no dishes to clean or laundry to do, no molars breaking through to cause a middle of the night crying jag, no 6am baby wake-up time.  Aaahhhhh.

Lombard Street

Not so fast.  I have this deep seated feeling like something's missing.  It's worse than when you think you've lost your wallet or cell phone.  This is bona fide separation anxiety.  I see young toddlers on the streets and gaze at them lovingly (me!) and I can't stop looking at pics of LO on my iPhone every chance I get.  This is crazy.

DAY 2

My eyes popped open this morning at 6:30am.  That's when LO usually wakes up, so I guess my body is trained for it now.  Unfortunately, that was 1.5 hours earlier than I needed to wake.  

The fog rolled in today and never left, which was a bummer because we were trying to get a shot of San Fran from Sausalito.  Instead, we got this:

I only showed pics of LO to two people and although neither of them asked to see them, I know they appreciated me sharing.  You can tell someone's interested when they start scrolling through the rest of your pics.  Or at least they're humoring you, which is fine for me.

Overall, the workcation has been short and sweet.  I have a 6am call time tomorrow with a possibility of finishing early.  Used to be, when I was on the road and wrapped early, I'd sneak in some sightseeing, but now all I want to do is get an earlier flight home.  There are diapers to change and hugs to be given.  I can't wait.

DAY 3

Show day.  I'm up naturally at 4:30, half an hour before my wake-up call.  I lay in bed having stress dreams until the phone rings.  I get ready, pack my suitcase and make it to reception to check out right on the money, 6am.  I've raced to make this time, so my makeup is suspect.  A quick visit to the restroom reveals one cheek massively over-blushed.  I shrug it off -- it's a crew full of guys, will anyone really notice?  I rush back to reception and my colleague with whom I'm traveling is still not there.  He's a poster child for the "Me Generation" and therefore doesn't arrive until 15 mins late with no apologies.  Apparently it was a late night out.  He didn't have time to check out, so he'll have to come back in the middle of the shoot to do it.  Not cool.  But I'm not gonna get stressed.  Not the new Mommy me.  I remind myself to teach LO manners and work ethic, and we head off to site.

Our shoot is delayed due to rain.  Afterward, I race to the airport yet miss my flight home.  Now I'm on standby in the Virgin America terminal, thank goodness, where I can drown my sorrows in Napa Valley gourmet pizza and Pinkberry.  I manage to make the flight, get home just before midnight, kiss DH and we fall into bed.  Just in time for LO to stir.  Home sweet home.  

She Counts!

LO can count to 12.  I have to give Elmo and the Count some credit, however DH and I make an effort to count and sing the alphabet with her a lot.  With the counting, we start with 1, she says 2, we say 3 and so on.  She likes to skip 4 and go straight to 5 but hey, it's progress.

Other sentences she's come out with recently are
"Is wet the duckie?"
"Dolly dirty diaper."
"Bye, park.  See you later."
"I need to get that."
"Is watch the TV."

Hang in there Gram and Gramps, we're trying to get a video for you but as soon as she sees the camera, all she wants to do is play with it!

Signs You Need to Get Out More

10. You're tossing your Little Britain DVD's to make room for the new Elmo DVD collection.
9.  A great Friday night is staying in and watching "The Marriage Ref."  And then arguing over it.
8.  Your cleaning lady saw you in makeup and heels the other day and didn't recognize you.
7.  You've started to speak in baby talk.
6.  Summer reading is "The No-Cry Sleep Solution" and "The Happiest Toddler on the Block."
5.  Airborne Toxic Event is something you're preparing for, not a rock band.
4.  A renewed love of coloring with crayons.
3.  Your credit card statements are so filled with diapers.com, baby gap and Gymboree expenditures, AmEx freezes your card for suspicious activity the one time you try to buy a tube of lipstick.
2.  You volunteer for the midnight run to get Children's Benadryl.  It's the new "me" time.

And the number one sign you need to get out more is...

1.  You kinda like your pancakes shaped like dinosaurs.