"That's Not Food!"

When I walked into day care yesterday afternoon, I saw that Andy was dancing with one of the other toddlers. Music played from a stereo, and Andy held the little girl's hands as they gently swayed back and forth. He saw me enter the room and threw me a smile that seemed to say, "Hi, Mom! Be right with you!" Andy swayed and danced, and when the song ended, he gave the girl a hug and a little kiss on the cheek. The whole exchange was very respectful and sweet, and I had an image of Prom Night, 2028, in which Andy takes the girl next door (or the girl next door type, at least) to Space High's Prom (theme: A Night To Keep Your Hands To Yourself) and has the kind of evening that begins with a firm, polite shake of the girl's father's hand and ends with a chaste, closed mouth kiss as he drops her off at home thirty minutes before curfew. It is important to me to raise Andy as a Nice Young Man. Specifically, he should be considerate of others, only date Nice You...

There are nights when Andy is reluctant to go to sleep. This reluctance is illustrated by a refusal to lay down in his crib, so he stands in the corner nearest the door, aims his face out into the rest of the house, and howls a panicky cry that insinuates he's being eaten alive by wolves. On these nights, I have to call Chris in for help. When Andy is fussy about sleeping, Chris is the more successful one at soothing him down. I can only imagine what goes on in that room since I try to stay away and avoid being a distraction. I imagine Chris whispering vivid threats into Andy's sweet little ear and scaring the child to sleep, and I also imagine Chris lovingly half-smothering our beloved son into slumber. You know what I mean- putting a pillow over Andy's face just enough to kind of knock him unconscious but not enough to do any permanent, lethal damage. Last night was one of those nights when Andy was "reluctant" to go to sleep. And Chris wasn't home, so I h...

I made the ever difficult decision of pre -quitting my job. I have told my boss that when baby number two comes on the scene, I won't be returning to work. I'm about eighty percent sure this is the correct decision. I'm about ten percent certain it is the wrong decision, and the remaining ten percent is full of a bevy of other miscellaneous emotions, including fear of the unknown, worry about impending cabin fever, and the justification that eating nine cookies before bed last night was okay because I am, after all, over-eating before bed time for two. My obvious fear about not returning to work is my lack of income. The math, however, just didn't work in my favor. Day care for two young kids is really expensive, especially here in the Chicago area. I can't justify working forty hours per week just to net a couple hundo after taxes. And, clearly, if we need that couple hundo , I'm not above putting in fifteen hours per week at a part time job. But I refuse ...

I checked out this book, "Hooray For Fish," from the library on Saturday. I am starting to graduate Andy from the board books to the big, paper picture books, and this was one of the more attractive items in the paper section. I'm not entirely sure Andy's ready for paper books- he's always loved to rip, and that hasn't necessarily changed lately- but the board books are getting a little old. And, bonus, this book is pretty big, and how much fun is a big, brightly colored picture book? TONS of fun. Andy likes books, and enjoys being read to, but he absolutely LOVES this one. We've read it almost a dozen times over the past few days, and Andy is absolutely absorbed by the pictures and the rhyming verse. But here's the best part of how Andy reacts to this book. At the very end, the little fish kisses the mommy fish. Andy knows that part is coming, and before I even read the words "kiss, kiss, kiss," Andy is all over Little Fish and Mom Fish, kis...

I had my sixteen week appointment yesterday. The sixteen week appointment is the most uneventful of them all; I jumped on the scale (I've only gained six pounds in eight weeks!), had my blood pressure taken (beautifully low), peed into a cup (I really filled that cup up), and then listened to the baby's heartbeat (reading came out in the mid-150s). And then I was off, thrown back into the snow storm to make the slow drive home while I thought about my next appointment, THE most eventful appointment of them all- the 20 week one where I find out the baby's gender. Is it a boy? Is it a girl? Is it a boyish girl? I am convinced that the baby is a girl. This could be a sort of wonderful thing, as I'm pretty sure I'm only having two kids, and it might be nice to have one of each. That being said- jeez, how super convenient would another boy be? They could share EVERYTHING- a room, clothes, video games, girlfriends, fake IDs, sports cups, etc. In our modest three bedroom...

Something's going on with Andy. His day care teachers have said that he wakes up from his nap screaming and crying on a daily basis. He's having terrors, and he's obviously freaked out. He's been extra clingy lately, and when I went to pick him up yesterday, he was sitting on his day care teacher's lap, sucking on his binky, with a single tear rolling down his cheek. When he saw me, he ran right over, and then in the car, all he wanted to do was clutch his security blanky. At home, he doesn't want me out of his sight, but, at the same time, when he grows frustrated with me (What do you mean I can't climb over the couch and stand on the side table, Mom?), his solution is to hit or bite me. And when I scold him for his behavior and act angry or disappointed with him, he panics and climbs into my lap and hugs me. What is all this? Separation anxiety? Severe emotional distress? Toddler depression? And how do I deal? I wonder if something's going on at ...

The dinosaurs came to town, and we packed up the car and drove to the convention center. "Discover The Dinosaurs" featured replicas of the dinosaurs along with "excellent photo opportunities" and other dinosaur related activities, such as digging for fossils, playing in a dinosaur themed tot area, and paying $13.00 for parking. Andy was suitably impressed with the convention, exclaiming "Wow!" at various times, mostly when we were inside the parking garage. He smartly pointed out the dinosaurs as we walked through the displays and murmured the word "Dinosaur!" to himself in an almost introspective manner. We let him walk around holding our hands, and he enjoyed the semi-freedom, breaking off into a spirited, stumbly run only eleven or twelve times during the two and a half hours we were there. And, he sidled his way over to a little girl, another toddler, in front of one of the displays and managed to give the girl a tight little squeeze. Hugg...

Andy has learned a new word. MINE. The first time I clearly heard him use this word was when we were at a friend's house. He had snatched up a pink ball that belonged to my friend's daughter, J, and when J tried to politely retrieve it, Andy yanked it from her grasp and called out "Mine!" Unfortunately, my first instinct was to inwardly cheer that Andy had learned a new word. Then I remembered that, oh yeah, I'm in charge of raising a human, and my second, slower instinct was to try to remind Andy that NO, the ball was not HIS, it was J's, and if we can't share, then we're going home. It was especially painful to see Andy being so blatantly selfish with other people's toys because I had earlier witnessed J saying a magic word that I'm not sure I've ever even uttered in front of Andy. "Please," J said sweetly when she asked for more snacks. I was blown away by the utterance of this one word- equally impressed by J and ashamed...