Tommy also hates tummy time. But the only way he knows how to roll is from back to front, so he is perpetually rolling over and getting stuck on his stomach. It infuriates him. If you don't want to be on your stomach Buddy, don't roll over!!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Why Girls are Smarter than Boys
When Lucy was Tommy's age, she hated tummy time. So she promptly learned how to roll from stomach to back, thus ending tummy time.
Tommy also hates tummy time. But the only way he knows how to roll is from back to front, so he is perpetually rolling over and getting stuck on his stomach. It infuriates him. If you don't want to be on your stomach Buddy, don't roll over!!
Tommy also hates tummy time. But the only way he knows how to roll is from back to front, so he is perpetually rolling over and getting stuck on his stomach. It infuriates him. If you don't want to be on your stomach Buddy, don't roll over!!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
YUM.
Lucy and I have been having mealtime battles lately.
About a week ago, Lucy decided that she was a big girl and would no longer use sippy cups. Since she was in danger of dehydration, I risked my poor carpet's life and allowed her to use a big girl cup. No lid. No straw. Straight up drinking out of a cup. She did surprisingly well with it. We had to lay down a few rules:
"No, your peas do NOT go in your cup."
"Drink your milk with your mouth, not with your fingers."
"Do not dump milk on your tray...not even if you use your napkin to clean it up again."
Since the cup has been going well, and Lucy has (mostly) won that battle, she decided today to broaden her horizons and dispense with utensils. The fork and spoon hit the floor (not that they were being used appropriately anyway), and up came Lucy's feet!
That's right, I looked over and (through significant contortion on her part) her left foot was up on the tray next to her plate. She used her hands to very meticulously put a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich between her toes, and then brought her foot to her mouth to eat it. YUM. Peanut butter toejam.
About a week ago, Lucy decided that she was a big girl and would no longer use sippy cups. Since she was in danger of dehydration, I risked my poor carpet's life and allowed her to use a big girl cup. No lid. No straw. Straight up drinking out of a cup. She did surprisingly well with it. We had to lay down a few rules:
"No, your peas do NOT go in your cup."
"Drink your milk with your mouth, not with your fingers."
"Do not dump milk on your tray...not even if you use your napkin to clean it up again."
Since the cup has been going well, and Lucy has (mostly) won that battle, she decided today to broaden her horizons and dispense with utensils. The fork and spoon hit the floor (not that they were being used appropriately anyway), and up came Lucy's feet!
That's right, I looked over and (through significant contortion on her part) her left foot was up on the tray next to her plate. She used her hands to very meticulously put a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich between her toes, and then brought her foot to her mouth to eat it. YUM. Peanut butter toejam.
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| Lucy Eats With Style |
Cheerios Are Taking Over My Life
I deep cleaned the playroom this week. Those of you who know me understand that I'm more likely to get struck by lightning than do this type of cleaning.
It was inspired by cheerios. Cheerios are taking over my life. I find them in the sofa. I find them in the toy bins. I find them in the depths under the table. I even found one behind the books on the bookshelf. In my shoes. On the window sill. You name it, there are cheerios there. It's amazing we don't have gigantic New York City sewer rats thriving on the cheerios Lucy has hidden all over the house.
The kids' reactions to this kind of cleaning was quite amusing.
When I was dusting, Lucy kept running off with my dust rag. Which means that next time I clean I'm going to find a large collection of holey, dusty socks somewhere. Tommy cried.
When I cleaned the windows, Lucy was right there beside me scrubbing....and running off with my paper towels. Tommy cried.
When I scrubbed the fingerprints off the walls, Lucy scrubbed too...and stole sponges. Tommy cried.
When I scrubbed the tables, Lucy helped...and ran off with my Lysol wipes. Tommy cried.
When I vacuumed, Lucy wanted a ride. Tommy cried.
So now Lucy has a nice stockpile of cleaning supplies, and will be taking over the household chores. Tommy, clearly, is a slob.
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| The Playroom (On a Normal Day) |
The kids' reactions to this kind of cleaning was quite amusing.
When I was dusting, Lucy kept running off with my dust rag. Which means that next time I clean I'm going to find a large collection of holey, dusty socks somewhere. Tommy cried.
When I cleaned the windows, Lucy was right there beside me scrubbing....and running off with my paper towels. Tommy cried.
When I scrubbed the fingerprints off the walls, Lucy scrubbed too...and stole sponges. Tommy cried.
 |
| Sponge Thief |
When I vacuumed, Lucy wanted a ride. Tommy cried.
So now Lucy has a nice stockpile of cleaning supplies, and will be taking over the household chores. Tommy, clearly, is a slob.
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| Slave Labor |
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Apples To Go, Please
Recently Peter and I were walking around Toys 'R' Us making Lucy's birthday list. I was appalled by the amount of McDonald's play food in the kitchen set aisle. There's a fake McDonald's Drive-Thru window, a fake red and yellow cash register, fake supersized soft drinks and fries and triple stacked plastic bacon and cheese covered heart attacks waiting to happen. It's no wonder Americans are fat. We start 'em young.
Peter didn't see why this was upsetting to me. "That stuff was around when we were kids and we're not fat. It's not like we eat fast food often."
Apparently Lucy doesn't see much wrong with it either. At home she picked up her purse, waved "bye-bye" to me, and got on her rocking horse (it's actually a giant blue rocking dog, but that sounds odd typed out). She rocked for a minute, then got to an imaginary drive-thru window. She paused, turned to the side and said, "Um...apples please. Yeah. Apples. Thank you." She used a very decisive "telephone voice" to place her order. She rocked a couple more times, paused again, reached into her purse, and held out MY credit card to the imaginary cashier.
MY CREDIT CARD!!
Last time I saw it, it was in MY wallet in MY purse!! It's identity theft in my own house!
I guess I should be happy that she was buying fruit with it, and not a plastic McDonald's drive-thru window.
Peter didn't see why this was upsetting to me. "That stuff was around when we were kids and we're not fat. It's not like we eat fast food often."
Apparently Lucy doesn't see much wrong with it either. At home she picked up her purse, waved "bye-bye" to me, and got on her rocking horse (it's actually a giant blue rocking dog, but that sounds odd typed out). She rocked for a minute, then got to an imaginary drive-thru window. She paused, turned to the side and said, "Um...apples please. Yeah. Apples. Thank you." She used a very decisive "telephone voice" to place her order. She rocked a couple more times, paused again, reached into her purse, and held out MY credit card to the imaginary cashier.
MY CREDIT CARD!!
Last time I saw it, it was in MY wallet in MY purse!! It's identity theft in my own house!
I guess I should be happy that she was buying fruit with it, and not a plastic McDonald's drive-thru window.
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| I need an apples combo meal, supersized please. |
Poopsplosions Revisited
Exersaucers are the solution to infant constipation. If you're ever concerned about the length of time between your baby's bowel movements, plop him in the exersaucer for about five minutes.
Tonight I got revenge for last week's poopsplosion when Peter was conveniently "on duty."
Five minutes after putting Tommy in the exersaucer we heard the ominous squirting noise. I think Tommy deflated. By the time Peter crossed the room to pick him up, there was poop up to Tommy's armpits. Peter had to hose him off.
This is the first time since Lucy was about a month old that Peter has been around for a poopsplosion. I think I'm almost as satisfied as Tommy right now.
Problem solved.
Five minutes after putting Tommy in the exersaucer we heard the ominous squirting noise. I think Tommy deflated. By the time Peter crossed the room to pick him up, there was poop up to Tommy's armpits. Peter had to hose him off.
This is the first time since Lucy was about a month old that Peter has been around for a poopsplosion. I think I'm almost as satisfied as Tommy right now.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
How Many Ways Can My Toddler Get Hurt?
I'm having a week where I'm afraid to take Lucy out in public, because someone might report me to CPS for child abuse. The kid has so many bruises it's not even funny.
Lucy is getting more agile and causes me to have heart failure on a daily basis. She can climb ladders now. And in Lucy's mind, everything is a ladder, including furniture. BUT, she can't climb down again nearly as effectively as she climbs up. She has a big girl bed that she can fall out of. She insists on walking up and down stairs like an adult, but she can barely reach the railing. She has no respect for animal teeth and claws, and will frequently tackle strange dogs the same way she tackles our own pets. Of course, none of these things caused any of her injuries.
They were all sustained while WALKING. You'd think that since she's been walking for a year now, that she'd know where her feet (and the walls and doors and floor) are by now. Not so much.
She has a scrape on her nose, from tripping over her own feet on some cobblestones in Williamsburg. She got her first bloody nose from that too. The lovely colonial lady who was helping me mop Lucy up called security on us, in case she needed to go into the ER. Luckily she didn't.
She has a scrape on her right knee from tripping over the door frame on her way outside. Tricky door must have jumped up and grabbed her feet.
She has a bruise on her cheek from unsuccessfully trying to climb up the single step between our entryway and living room.
She has a bruise on her left knee from running full tilt into a wall. In our house. That wall has been there the whole time we've lived here. It wasn't a new wall, or a tricky wall, or an unexpected pile of junk.
She has bruises on both arms that were sustained from flailing her arms around (aka "dancing") and forgetting where the furniture was.
The house was already childproofed, but this week I'm thinking that we need to invest in helmets and padded walls!
Poor kid!!
Lucy is getting more agile and causes me to have heart failure on a daily basis. She can climb ladders now. And in Lucy's mind, everything is a ladder, including furniture. BUT, she can't climb down again nearly as effectively as she climbs up. She has a big girl bed that she can fall out of. She insists on walking up and down stairs like an adult, but she can barely reach the railing. She has no respect for animal teeth and claws, and will frequently tackle strange dogs the same way she tackles our own pets. Of course, none of these things caused any of her injuries.
They were all sustained while WALKING. You'd think that since she's been walking for a year now, that she'd know where her feet (and the walls and doors and floor) are by now. Not so much.
She has a scrape on her nose, from tripping over her own feet on some cobblestones in Williamsburg. She got her first bloody nose from that too. The lovely colonial lady who was helping me mop Lucy up called security on us, in case she needed to go into the ER. Luckily she didn't.
She has a scrape on her right knee from tripping over the door frame on her way outside. Tricky door must have jumped up and grabbed her feet.
She has a bruise on her cheek from unsuccessfully trying to climb up the single step between our entryway and living room.
She has a bruise on her left knee from running full tilt into a wall. In our house. That wall has been there the whole time we've lived here. It wasn't a new wall, or a tricky wall, or an unexpected pile of junk.
She has bruises on both arms that were sustained from flailing her arms around (aka "dancing") and forgetting where the furniture was.
The house was already childproofed, but this week I'm thinking that we need to invest in helmets and padded walls!
Poor kid!!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Oh No!
No is Lucy's new favorite word.
I've read that shit is the most versatile word in the English language, but I think Lucy would beg to differ. She finds a multitude of uses for the word "No."
First, it obviously can mean "No." As in "NONONONONONONONONO!" when asked to do anything she doesn't want to do. We experience this version of No about 127 times an hour.
But then it can also mean Yes. "Lucy, would you like some juice?" "NO!" But cue a temper tantrum when I put the juice away.
She also uses No to inform us of impending disaster. Whether it's a diaper blowout or a plate of spaghetti about to hit the wall, I know that I need to jump quickly when I hear "Oh! No!"
She uses No to express her disappointment in us. If I try to put a shirt on her that doesn't "match" her pants (take "match" with a grain of salt - she's a toddler after all), I get "Oh no. No, no, no," as she sighs and sadly shakes her head.
When she doesn't know the correct response, No is always a safe fallback. "Lucy, what does the duck say?" "NOOOOoooooo."
And of course, whenever she is hungry, tired, or just plain cranky, I hear lots of short sharp "No!"s. They're frequently accompanied by lots of hand flapping, hitting, kicking, screaming, and a general inability to focus on anything besides the word No.
But I have learned that in the midst of all these No's the best way to get Lucy to comply with my wishes is to make her say Yes, ONCE. "Lucy, I need to change your diaper." "NONONONONONONONO!" "Lucy can you say yes?" "NO!" "Say Yes, Lucy." "Yes." (Said in a very sulky voice). "Great! Yay! Let's change your diaper!" "YEAH!!" Ah, brainwashing.
I've read that shit is the most versatile word in the English language, but I think Lucy would beg to differ. She finds a multitude of uses for the word "No."
First, it obviously can mean "No." As in "NONONONONONONONONO!" when asked to do anything she doesn't want to do. We experience this version of No about 127 times an hour.
But then it can also mean Yes. "Lucy, would you like some juice?" "NO!" But cue a temper tantrum when I put the juice away.
She also uses No to inform us of impending disaster. Whether it's a diaper blowout or a plate of spaghetti about to hit the wall, I know that I need to jump quickly when I hear "Oh! No!"
She uses No to express her disappointment in us. If I try to put a shirt on her that doesn't "match" her pants (take "match" with a grain of salt - she's a toddler after all), I get "Oh no. No, no, no," as she sighs and sadly shakes her head.
When she doesn't know the correct response, No is always a safe fallback. "Lucy, what does the duck say?" "NOOOOoooooo."
And of course, whenever she is hungry, tired, or just plain cranky, I hear lots of short sharp "No!"s. They're frequently accompanied by lots of hand flapping, hitting, kicking, screaming, and a general inability to focus on anything besides the word No.
But I have learned that in the midst of all these No's the best way to get Lucy to comply with my wishes is to make her say Yes, ONCE. "Lucy, I need to change your diaper." "NONONONONONONONO!" "Lucy can you say yes?" "NO!" "Say Yes, Lucy." "Yes." (Said in a very sulky voice). "Great! Yay! Let's change your diaper!" "YEAH!!" Ah, brainwashing.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
A Category 5 Poopsplosion
Tommy got his first shower last night.
He pooped so explosively that it flew out the legs of his diaper and hit the sides of his seat. And then he kicked it.
While I was trying to determine the best approach to cleaning him up, Lucy dumped her pasta over her head.
Lucy got a shower too.
And after carrying two slimy kids upstairs by myself (guess who was working last night), I got a shower too.
Who knew showering was such a family event?!
It's all good though - I got my revenge:
He pooped so explosively that it flew out the legs of his diaper and hit the sides of his seat. And then he kicked it.
While I was trying to determine the best approach to cleaning him up, Lucy dumped her pasta over her head.
Lucy got a shower too.
And after carrying two slimy kids upstairs by myself (guess who was working last night), I got a shower too.
Who knew showering was such a family event?!
It's all good though - I got my revenge:
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