Naughty

Even when I was in high school I knew the line from The Little Mermaid "Betcha on land they understand that they don’t reprimand their daughters" was hilarious. It’s even funnier now with a daughter of my own. Who needs to be reprimanded quite frequently in fact. For instance last night, when she and her brother ran away from home. At bedtime. In their jammies. To the neighbor’s house.

I’m not entirely sure what they thought they were doing. We had been over to the neighbor’s that evening, splashing around in their wading pool in the backyard. Neither Kirk nor Veronica wanted to leave, despite it being bedtime. Thankfully the neighbor helped get them out of there by deflating the pool and dumping out the water. We all went home, got dried off, and into pajamas. While I was gathering wet clothes for the laundry I realized they had gone outside. Which, strictly speaking, was enough to get them into trouble but I was going to let it slide, thinking they were just in the backyard. I stepped outside to shoo them in and realized they weren’t actually in our yard. I started calling for them and noticed they were two houses over, about to go through the back gate to the neighbor’s that we had just left. They hustled over so fast when they saw and heard how mad I was. Mr. b yelled at them big time and Kirk blamed Ronnie, of course, and Ronnie was in tears and they were sent straight to bed and they’re grounded from TV. Kirk tried to suggest they get grounded from going outside. Yeah right. Nice try buddy.

The ironic thing is that just that afternoon, we got set up with cameras to record Ronnie’s temper tantrums. When the kids were born I signed each of them up to be participants in various child development studies with the University. Kirk’s gone in a few times to do various cognitive development tests, like play with blocks and look at pictures. Simple stuff, quick and easy and fun. A couple of months ago they called about one for Veronica. Initially it was just a survey about how she reacts during a tantrum and how frequently they happen and how long they last. I knew she’d get picked for the larger study and sure enough, she did. They’re researching aggression and using toddlers as their human baseline, because they don’t yet have societal pressure altering their behavior. Obviously they need a lot of raw data for such a complicated statistical model so they’re taping 100 toddlers having three tantrums each. The research assistant came by yesterday and got the cameras in place and walked us through the paperwork. I already have a tantrum for her to come and download. Ronnie freaked out about a) fruit snacks [she’s only allowed one packet a day] and b) not coming to the grocery store with Mama. It’s not even the biggest, baddest one she’s ever had. But it certainly had many of the unique behaviors they’re cataloging – stomping, crying, hitting, yelling, walking away, reaching for comfort – so it definitely qualifies. I think we’re going to get our allotted three tantrums filled up in a hurry. I wonder what’s the fastest any family has completed the inventory? We’re just excited to have witnesses.

Butt Update

Last week Ronnie started wearing underpants. Now, this does not mean she is fully potty trained. In fact, I would say instead that she is merely in the process of potty training. She still has accidents. Lots and lots of accidents. But for her, just wearing panties is enough to make her remember to use the potty and she really, really hates having to wear a diaper at all now.

It’s amazing how different the potty training experience is with Veronica compared to her brother. Kirk was just uninterested in it at all. Pure laziness. He would have kept going in a diaper forever if we would have let him. Which is why we started the sticker charts. Potty candy was all well and good but ultimately, he needed a bigger reward. Earning stickers to save up for a toy prize mattered a whole lot more to him than the personal pride of a pair of underpants. I guess that’s why Ronnie’s moving forward so much quicker and at such a younger age. I’m not sure if it’s the younger sibling thing or the girls-train-earlier-than-boys thing or personality differences or some combination of all of that. But it’s definitely been unique.

Kirk always used the actual potty chair. He didn’t switch to the potty ring until he had been using the little chair for quite some time. We’d always have to clean it out and it was gross. Ronnie has never used anything but the toilet seat ring insert. When she was first showing interest many months ago, I pulled the potty chair out and she would sit on it but it was basically just a toy. She didn’t start actually going until I set her on the ring. That’s what she uses at daycare, too.

So now I make sure she goes every morning when she first gets up. She’s really good at morning pee. The rest of the day is hit or miss. She’s been going to daycare in underpants but always ends up coming home in a diaper. She still needs one while sleeping so she needs one while taking a nap. Miss Ronica likes to then have her panties on top of her diaper, so she’s still wearing them. Sort of. I must say, size 2T Hello Kitty panties are just about the cutest thing ever.

Mama’s also been having increased potty focus the past few months. The entire family got hit with a nasty bout of stomach flu back in February. All four of us were down for several days with repeated puking and diarrhea. It was not fun. But after we all got well, my butt never went back to normal. Essentially, I’ve had intermittent diarrhea for months now. I thought maybe it was red meat so cut that out. I cut out alcohol and caffeine and dairy. None of that made any difference. I tried adding lactobacillus to my water. Nope. So I finally went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago and had blood taken and had to provide a stool sample. That was a real joy to collect.

Last week I got the results of the tests back. “Your blood tests for Celiac disease (gluten sensitivity) were both quite elevated. This makes the diagnosis quite likely.” Awesome. I have an appointment with a gastrointestinal specialist set up for next month. But in the meantime, I get to speculate on life with a possible celiac diagnosis. There is no cure. The only way to fix my butt issues would be to change my diet. Radically change my diet. Wheat gluten is in *everything*. Seriously. It’s used to thicken even ice cream! I love pasta and bread and crackers and cereal. Sure, my favorite grains have long been corn and oats but there’s wheat flour in corn bread and dieticians are divided on whether or not oat gluten is also bad. Basically it’s at the point now where every time I eat a sandwich or a plate of spaghetti I find myself thinking, “Is this the last time I’ll ever be able to eat it?” I’m not supposed to modify my diet on my own before additional testing or else I’d have to eat a bunch of gluten specifically for tests. So in the meantime, I’m keeping on keeping on.

But what will this mean for my family? I already have a massively picky eater in Kirk. Dinner is a fight more often than not. I don’t want to have to make special meals for myself but I also don’t want to have to force them to eat weird grains and bizarre recipes when they don’t have to. There are just so many factors and such a potential for ripple effects. I’m trying not to worry. But being celiac would certainly help to make sense of certain things my whole life so part of me would be happy just to have the answers. Even if that means knowing that I’ll pay later for that sandwich on delicious whole grain bread.

Veronica at Large

It’s been two weeks since Ronnie had her second birthday. Since it fell on a Monday this year, we had her party the Sunday before. She had a great time opening her presents.



Brother got her a stuffed Olivia, but she still wouldn’t put down the Puffle.



The Easter hat was a hit, but the Jessie doll stole the show. Boy howdy does that girl love Toy Story 3.



We had cake and visited with friends and relatives and it was a lovely afternoon.

Miss Veronica seemed to get extra naughty following her birthday. I mean, even more naughty than she already was. And the crowning achievement of said naughty? Taking off her poopie diapers in her crib. Or in her nap bed at daycare. Basically, just wherever she happens to be. She still won’t poop in the potty more than the occasional shart when she’s already sitting there, but she refuses to stay in a soiled diaper for one second longer than she deems necessary. Which means that she’s getting crap everywhere. Rare are the days she comes home from daycare with the same outfit on. Or if she is, it’s because she already had that one washed, ruined the second one, and got switched back into the first one. We’re going through crib sheets like mad, too, changing them sometimes twice a day – after naps and after night – on the weekends.

But at least she has finally adjusted to daycare. Ronnie is happy to go now, willing to say goodbye to me without tears or clinging on. She even will occasionally be having too much fun to want to leave when I pick her up! But even if I do get her settled into the car without a fight, we then have to go to school to pick up Brother from Adventure Club. And that’s where the trouble usually takes place. Kirk is a master staller, always has been, and he loves Adventure Club and rarely is ready to leave when we get there. Which feeds back into his sister. So a typical evening now involves me forcibly hauling Ronronica to the car from the school, sometimes carrying her boots or coat that she ripped off in a fit of pique, and trying to get the two of them to not fight over the remains of Kirk’s bag lunch in the back seat. I’ve gotten into the habit of bringing snacks with to pass out for the drive home from school. Even with them eating something in the car, they are still famished when we get home. I have to fix them a second snack before I can even start on supper.

We had a brand new development last night. Something that Kirk never did. Ronnie climbed out of her crib. Twice! She was fighting going to bed and screamed so I went in there to hold her for a few seconds. I opened the door and saw her dangling by her fingertips over the side of the crib and then she let go and dropped the remaining few inches to the ground. My jaw dropped and I turned to Kirk, “Oh my god did you see that?!” Mr. b couldn’t believe it. But when we thought we had her calmed down and back in bed, we heard more clunking around sounds. Sure enough, she was out of the crib and making a beeline for the bedroom door. Apparently we’ll be buying a toddler bed this week.

This Week in Menace

We’ve been re-crib training Ronnie the past week. She’s been refusing to go to bed at night. I’m not really sure what happened. Mr. b thinks our Thanksgiving travels “broke” her. I admit, the timing is suspect, but I don’t know that staying at her great-aunt’s house is the actual culprit. Still, it has sucked since we got back. First she would go to sleep quite quickly in one of our laps while we were watching TV, so it didn’t really strike us as any big deal. But then we realized we were totally getting played. Still, if you put her into her crib, she’d stiffen and stand up and start screaming. And that’s hardly fair to her brother who has to actually go to school and learn and stuff.

Back to crib-training methodology. Since late last week I’ve refused to bring Ronnie out of their bedroom, instead holding her while sitting on the edge of Brother’s bed. She’ll quiet down right away but then stiffen and stand and scream when I set her down again. Thankfully Kirk seems to be able to fall asleep during this circus. Some nights it has taken over an hour of letting her cry for five minutes, hold for five minutes, cry for five minutes, before she’ll fall asleep in my arms and I have to carefully lay her down lest she wake up and start the whole process over again. Sunday night it was taking so many trips into their room that I caved and brought her into the living room to sit with us. And she got all rowdy, having “won”. We ended up bringing her to bed with us and all had a fitful night’s sleep. I think she knows she lost the war though. Monday night she still fought but last night I only went in there once before she fell asleep. We’ll see if this keeps up or if it’s only a lull.

I’m not sure if this is a reversion signaling a new development or not. She gets into everything. Not just the usual menacing that we’ve been dealing with. We have child-proofed cabinets and drawers but Mr. b has resorted to taping the refrigerator closed. Otherwise she’s always in there, helping herself or bringing us sandwich meat or pickle jars, demanding that we get her some of whatever she’s carrying. He told me he just taped shut the craft drawer that contains the crayons as well. We hardly have any crayons left; she chews them all into nothing.

I think this new round of destruction actually coincides with her burgeoning language skills. My dear friends Hot Stuff and Keith Moon are adopting an adorable little man from China. He’s just a couple of weeks older than Veronica and I told them they should learn her vocabulary in Chinese so they have a starting point with communication. Of course he’ll have a toddler accent so maybe that won’t help anyways... Here’s Miss Ron-Ronica’s list of current words – keeping in mind that “current” means two weeks ago when I compiled this list. She’s already got new ones and keeps adding something nearly everyday. Context is clearly everything.

No
No – Nose
No – Snow
Dek – Yes
Mine
Mama
Daddio
Bubba – Brother
Biss – Please
Hi
Bye
Go
This
Ow
Uh-oh
Ball
Bus
Bess – Mess
Bat – Bath
Poohn – Spoon
Knee
Eye
Sss – Juice
Oose – Shoes
Baby
Baby – Blankie
Nake – Snake
Ut – Hook
Hot
Butt
Buht – Book

First Day

I find myself grinning as I walk down the hall. My son is at kindergarten! I keep wondering what he’s doing right at this moment. Did he put his lunch bag into the basket and get a clothespin with his name on it clipped to the handle? I bet he totally forgot and left it in his backpack. But he’s got his lunch with so he’ll figure it out. Will they go down to the lunchroom to eat? I guess because some of the kids will buy hot lunch. Kirk’s got a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, some carrots, a box of raisins, a granola bar, a cookie, and a juice box. Yes, that’s too much food for one kid. But it’s all stuff he likes and he can pick how many things he’s going to eat. Hopefully he understands he can just bring home the rest.

I’ve said hopefully he ______ a lot the past week.

The bus stop went well. We rushed out of the house, entire family heading the block and a half to his assigned corner. I wouldn’t say that Kirk was excited but he wasn’t terrified either. We’d been talking about school and busing for quite some time now so it’s not like it was a surprise. I guess I’d say he was resigned to his fate. And he was the first one on! Maybe he just wanted to get it over with? He took a seat nearly at the back of the bus and then waved to us out the window.

Then Mr. b and Ronnie and I raced home and hopped in the car. Mr. b drove like a bat outta hell, totally freaked that the bus was going to get to school before us. I think Kirk’s is the last stop on the route. We caught up with it no problem, and pulled into the school lot at the same time the bus was turning around to get into drop-off position. So we were able to watch Kirk actually get off the bus. I’m not sure what he thought when he saw us standing there. He walked inside on his own though and we hung back. Supposedly there were going to be PTO helpers holding balloons so the kids could get assistance finding their classrooms. Not a balloon in sight. We watched Kirk wander down the hall and then slowly went inside after him.

We caught up to Kirk when he happened to be almost to his classroom, still on his own. He said he remembered the directions the principal gave us at open house last week! And when we dropped off his remaining paperwork in the office, we discovered the balloon helpers were only at the front door for the parental drop-offs. That makes zero sense to me. We lurked about in the halls, waiting for the bell to ring. Kirk quietly sat in line outside his classroom door, along with all the other kids in his class. We peeked around the corner at him several times and he was stoic and slightly bored looking.

I put a note in his pocket with his bus number on it. Apparently the teachers take the kids down to their buses at the end of the day but still. He needs to remember which one is his and get on the right one. Mr. b and Ronnie will be there to meet him when he gets off. I can’t wait to get home and hear all about his day.

Biking Battles

No, do. Or do not. There is no try.
--Yoda

Unless you’re a five year old, then there is most certainly try. Kirk was grounded all weekend. Grounded from television and movies, grounded from video games, grounded from Star Wars. And he lost his blankie. His infraction? Refusal to try.

We bought Kirk a new big boy bike with training wheels for his 5th birthday. He was so excited about it; he rode it all over the store as we secretly picked out other presents and passed them back and forth behind his back. We brought it home and he rode it all over the neighborhood with his daddy and around the block on a walk with his mama and sister. And then he stopped. For some reason he got scared of it and we can’t figure it out. “I don’t know how.” So we told him he had to ride it every single night so he could learn and practice. But even then he’d freak out. “I can’t.” Both of us lost our tempers on several occasions.

I decided to try getting him used to the bike slowly. We explored how it rocks between the training wheels and how that lessens when he sits on it and his weight lowers them. We explored how the front and back brakes grab the front and back wheels. We explored how far you can turn the handle bars to the right and the left and how it will make the bike tip over if you go too far. We even explored standing on the front pegs while I anchored the bike. Kirk will sit on it and cheerfully put his feet on the pedals. But actually pedal the bike? “I can’t.” And then he said, “I quit.”

Mr. b realized that there must be something else going on and did a little bit of online child psychology research. Apparently there are several reasons why a child might refuse to try and the one that seems to make the most sense with Kirk is perfectionism. He’s good at riding his trike. He’s not an expert at riding his bike and doesn’t know all the ins and outs of it yet. So we put too much pressure on him and made it worse, which just sucks and makes us both feel horrible. But we also can’t let him win and had to figure out a way for him to earn back his privileges without making him ride the damn bike. So he had to try new food.

Trying new foods has always been a battle with Kirk. ALWAYS. It’s ridiculous how often we fight over him eating, or rather not eating. But this time it’s like he knew that this was the best compromise for all parties. Sunday supper, he ate a half a hamburger for the first time ever and had an entire ear of corn. And got his blankie and TV and video games and Star Wars back.

Now, thinking back on it, we’ve had this same issue with bikes before. When Kirk switched from the little sit-down scooter thingie to the Thomas big wheel, he was extremely reticent to learn how to pedal. I remember being so frustrated as he scooted with his feet instead of pedaling. And then when he switched from the big wheel to the tricycle it was the same thing. He was so good at the low to the ground pedaling and suddenly being upright on a trike was a major change. He liked the concept of the trike but was hesitant and rarely used it. Which drove me nuts. So I guess this isn’t new behavior. I just need to remember it for when the time comes to take the training wheels off. Hooboy that’s going to be tough.

Addendum 2b

When I was a kid and I played dress up it was only for that particular session of playtime. The outfits or costume pieces would go on for the game or the play we were putting on or whatever and that was it. I was never the little girl wearing a tutu out to the store or a tiara to piano lessons. And maybe being in dance and having actual sequined costumes that were more dazzling than anything out of a dress up box helped me to avoid doing that.

Kirk, however, likes to dress like a favorite character All. The. Time. To the point where he actually gets mad if his ability to dress that way is somehow impeded by little things like being in the laundry. Obviously the current favorite character is Indiana Jones. He’s got two main outfits that he switches between: short sleeves and short pants for Young Indy


And long sleeves and long pants for Teacher Indy.


But thankfully he doesn’t have to wear the entire get-up every moment of every day. He mixes up the elements and includes other favorite pieces like his vest


Or one of his ties.


I was thinking about this and realized it’s hardly a phase. Oh, the choice of Henry Jones Jr. might be a phase but not dressing up like a particular character. He was David Tennant’s Doctor from Doctor Who and ran around in a suit jacket and button down shirt, carrying a sonic screw driver everywhere he went. He was Ringo Starr and wore garish rings and carried drum sticks. He was Dave Gahan and wore a black cowboy hat like in Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” video. It does seem that as he gets older he demands more completion to his outfits as each one is more involved and has more required pieces than the previous one.

But I’ve also noticed that Kirk doesn’t try to wear actual literal costumes. Even when he was into Superman he wouldn’t try to wear either his be-caped pajamas or his Halloween costume outside the house. He would put on a sport coat and tie and be Clark Kent instead. When he was into Buzz Lightyear he would ask to wear the Halloween costume as pajamas but again, wasn’t trying to wear it outside of the house. I’m not sure what that means but I think it’s a good thing. Even though Kirk has a very healthy imagination and is constantly exercising his creativity, he’s got a handle on reality and knows what will fly in public. Right?

Addendum 1

Since Ronnie has been fully weaned we’ve also been trying to slowly switch her over to sippy cups. We’re not going particularly fast on that front. She is drinking juice out of a sippy cup and that’s progress. But we haven’t regularly changed any of her milk bottles to sippies. She typically has three regular bottles of milk – in the morning, before nap, before bed – and then however many others throughout the day. We need to start giving her those irregularly scheduled ones in cups. I’ve tried giving her milk with a straw in a restaurant but she just makes a mess. She enjoys drinking water with a straw though.

The only thing about the sippy cups is that she’s rather violent with them. I don’t let her wander the house with her bottle, though she can hold it herself in her carseat or in my lap, but I’ll let her walk around with her juice cup. And she swings it viciously. She’s really strong. Three Saturdays ago, Ronnie was sitting on my lap, drinking from her sippy cup. She then, with no warning, backhanded it into my face. Into my eye socket. This picture does no justice to how bad it looked or how much it hurt.



I still have a very faint spot of red where the blood pooled under my eye but it’s only visible if you’re looking for it.

C is for Cooperation

Kirk spent nearly all of Saturday in time out. He had a dentist appointment Saturday morning and wanted his daddy to take him. Fine by me, I got to sleep in longer and not get dressed. But while I was chilling with Ronnie, they got home much earlier than I expected. Kirk was so naughty and uncooperative that ultimately the hygienist was unable to do anything. Mr. b was pissed and frog-marched the man into his bedroom for an all-day grounding.

Now, we happened to be quite busy that afternoon so Kirk got let out for stuff like going to book club with Mama, but he knew he was in Big Trouble. We decided that this behavior needs to be treated as a symptom of him getting away with baby stuff that we just haven’t bothered to fight yet. So since he is now big enough to have appointments – doctor, optometrist, dentist – he has to act like he’s a Big Boy. And Big Boys don’t use sippy cups. Yep, we finally got rid of the damn sippies.

Kirk was pretty distraught when he heard the announcement his precious sippy cups were going away. He tried arguing but knew he wasn’t going to get away with jack shit this time round. In fact, by the time lunch was over he had turned it around and was excited to participate in the tossing of the hateful plastic bastards into the recycling bin. And he’s been proudly requesting his drinks “in a Big Boy Cup” all weekend, as though he had any other choice.

One nice side-effect of this all was good behavior in church yesterday. He sat quietly until the children were dismissed, and drew and didn’t make noise or screw around, even as his best friend was decidedly not behaving himself sitting next to him on the pew. And during the social hour after service, his Sunday school teacher came up to me and told me about how well behaved Kirk was and what a great sense of humor he has. The lesson she was teaching? Cooperation. HA!!

I’m not sure how long we can milk this. Kirk knows his blue blankie is the next on the line. For now though, I’m enjoying having so much space in the cupboard, now that the sippies are gone!

Flotsam and Jetsam

Kirk’s taken to making proclamations of “I’m gonna buy you something” to both me and his father. The items he’s going to purchase vary from the simple to the extravagant. It’s very sweet. He totally doesn’t understand money yet. Heh.

Veronica has all but broken the television remote. Every time it’s left in her reach she has chewed it to the point where the buttons simply don’t work anymore. One evening earlier this week she managed to chew it into a feedback loop of scanning for channels!

Kirk is becoming quite the master builder. He loves regular sized Legos the most, though he’ll also use Duplos or bristle blocks or anything else handy. He has created everything from pirate ships to Lightning McQueen to the Incredible Hulk. It’s fabulous to watch his creativity in such a concrete manner.

Ronnie still won’t take steps unless you trick her. If her destination is at standing height then she might step once or twice but usually she’ll just speed-crawl over. The strange thing, however, is that she is now nearly perfectly balanced (relative to a baby learning to walk) and will spend most of her time standing once she’s reached her new location.

I’ve been going through my wardrobe and culling items. I discovered I had a box of goal weight clothes I set aside before Kirk was born. Some of them fit! Our scale has been broken since the clogged toilet disaster so that was an exciting discovery. I’ve also stopped wearing nursing bras exclusively. Boy, I need new bras.

In the ongoing attempt to make sure Kirk has good manners, I’ve been trying to impress upon him the difference between an empty “I’m sorry” to get out of trouble and a truly meaningful apology. I haven’t decided yet if we’re making any progress.

On the topic of manners, what about chivalry? I’m not sure at what point, or even if, I should start with the holding the door for a lady, letting a lady go first, that sort of thing. Respect Your Elders probably needs to come next anyway. We’re still working on Wait Your Turn If Someone Else Is Speaking.

Bundle takes showers with me now. I gave up even trying to keep her out. She loves hanging out and splashing when her brother or her dad is in the bathtub and if I’m in the shower she will lean over the edge to try to play with the water spray. She is just about tall enough to climb in. Rather than fight it, I now let her hang out below me, cheerfully splashing shampoo bubbles and sliding around in the tub.

KINDERGARTEN!

Kirk has his kindergarten registration last night. It was a lot of fun but I was exhausted by the end of it.

We got to the school and headed into the gym. None of us had ever been inside it before but there were teachers and PTA parents stationed all around, pointing the way. Immediately we recognized someone: angelmamma! I had no idea she had decided to hold M back a year. I’m very excited that he and Kirk will be in the same grade, though they didn’t really remember each other. It’s been several years since they were at daycare together. We didn’t get to hang out much because we were in different nametag color groups.

Our group traipsed off up the stairs to go meet with some teachers in one of the classrooms. They happened to have the same floor rug that used to be in Kirk’s bedroom and so instead of sitting with the kids for storytime, he laid down upon it and refused to move. When he did move he came over to where I was sitting with his sister and wanted to play with the Duplos that were there. Nuh uh. Mr. b inched forward to the point where he was sitting just behind the kids and eventually Kirk got the point and joined him. The teachers were great and ignored the misbehavior, letting him adjust to his surroundings on his own terms, but still calling him up to participate in the interactive portion after most of the other kids had gotten a turn. I was impressed.

After the story, our group went out to ride the bus. Kirk was much better behaved here. He listened carefully to the rules for bus riding and was one of the very first to start singing “The Wheels on the Bus” when the teacher asked if anyone knew any songs about buses. He seemed by excited by the whole thing.

Finally our group went to another classroom and this time Kirk was right in with the kids, no prompting necessary. When they asked for volunteers, his hand went up but he didn’t spazz out like some of the others so he got picked. They sang and he played his role and seemed to be having a great time.

Meanwhile, I found someone I knew! Before our groups split up I heard my name called and saw someone I haven’t seen in over ten years! She and I were friends through the girl I went to Mexico with and stayed friends after she moved out of the state. But we had lost touch and though I thought of her from time to time, she certainly never crossed my mind as a possible mother of my son’s school mate! Her son and Kirk got along really, really well and played together the entire time we were back at the cafeteria filling out paperwork. I’m glad he’ll have someone he knows, even if they’re not in the same classroom. Now we just have to find time for playdates!

Everything went really smoothly and I think Kirk’s genuinely excited about starting school. I am, too. But now the worries are setting in. He’s going to be taking the bus thanks to some incredibly strangely drawn district borders. Waiting for the bus I’m not worried about. Riding the bus I’m not worried about. Getting off the bus and finding his way to his classroom I’m worried about. Which is stupid because it’s not like they won’t have teachers and PTA parents there to guide kids again.

Put Some Toilet Water On It

Sunday night Kirk killed the toilet. Daddy was at the Steely Dan concert and Mama was busy with Bundle and Kirk used about 2/3 of a roll of toilet paper. I had been talking to him down the hall, concerned something was Going On but didn’t actually put the baby down and go investigate. I told him explicitly not to use too much paper, not to take big pieces, and to flush in the middle if he thought he might need more. Kirk didn’t listen to Mama.

I attempted to plunge the toilet but couldn’t get it cleared. I figured I was a wuss. But then Mr. b tried the toilet snake yesterday morning and that didn’t work either. So I guess that explains why the plunger wasn’t good enough. After work we tried the Depot and checked out our other options. We had a longer pipe snake from the basement floor drain issues of a couple years ago. But that proved to be too flexible and would just bunch up at the clog.

Mr. b started investigating options online. Dawn: didn’t work. Shop-Vac: seemed to be helping until it stopped sucking and started blowing. Toilet water was being sprayed all over the hallway wall. At the same time the toilet started running uncontrollably and the bowl began to overflow. I tried to soak up the mess with towels but instead ran to the neighbors to borrow their wet-dry vac. The hallway was flooded and it was flowing into the bedrooms and the linen closet. It dripped down into the furnace room downstairs. As the menfolk were investigating – opening the evacuation pipe further along will entail tearing into the wall because the geniuses who refinished the already finished basement closed everything off – I tried to keep the kids away from the mess and clean up at least a little bit.

So now we still don’t have a working toilet. If we didn’t have the downstairs bathroom we’d have had to call a plumber or stay at a hotel. Kirk was sent to bed early last night. He is contrite if flippant. His biggest worry is that buying a new toilet will cut into the Christmas presents budget. We’ve been trying to impress on him that the lesson is not Don’t Use Too Much Toilet Paper but rather Always Listen To Mama. Because he didn’t and he should have.

Karate Kid

Kirk had his very first karate class last night! It’s through the city recreation department. All the parents were sitting along the wall in the room as the 3 to 6 year olds sort of listened and sort of followed directions. Mr. b had predicted that Kirk would go all shy and cling to his legs at first. If he had put money on it, he would have won. But after not too much persuasion, Kirk got in line with the other kids and paid attention about as well as I could expect from him. Hell, I remember my first year of dance when I was 4 and we did a crap job of learning our steps and staying in formation and whatever. We had a tap dance with baby dolls. I’m sure it was precious.

Anyway, first the teacher had them warm up. They ran in a giant circle around the perimeter of the room. Hilarious. Then she had them learn how to fall. She explained to us parents that it was important for kids to know how to fall for when they get into school if they get pushed down they won’t bang their head on the pavement. Great. Basically she had them do backward and forward shoulder rolls down a padded incline, onto a mat. Then the kids got to crawl through a little canvas tunnel and get back in line. It took a few tries but we finally got Kirk to let us hold onto his glasses. He was the only glasses kid there. The final activity was a little weird. Each kid picked a color out of four options, then the teacher spread a bunch of short soccer cones out on the floor in the various colors and the kids had to go collect only their chosen color. And that was it! A half hour goes very fast.

Since Mr. b has to leave for his own class when Kirk’s gets done, I walked home with the kids. Kirk was very excited and talked about how much fun he had and what he’s going to do “next day” and how he’s “so tough”. Even though Thursday nights are my nights for choir, I think I might want to get Kirk signed up for the next session already. Mr. b can take them and I can meet them there after practice. I’m just glad that the boy didn’t fight it and seemed to genuinely enjoy himself.

Eye Cee Ewe

Kirk had another eye appointment on Friday. He was…less well behaved than the first time. The optometrist’s assistant asked if he knew letters and started out showing him letters. He named them clearly for a while and then started in with the lunatic babbling. I hate when he does that. He totally sounds like Billy Madison. It’s sort of a corollary to him acting extra weird around kids he doesn’t know well. He is so smart and well spoken at home but then when there are adults he doesn’t know well he just switches into gibberish. He thinks it’s funny of course and I just want to bash my head against the wall. So she started showing him pictures instead of letters and he was mildly more clear with his responses, but only up to a point. I honestly don’t know how she was able to glean anything from it at all.

And then it was time for the eye drops. I knew it was going to be a problem. I mean, Kirk remembered them vividly from his first appointment. His father took him to his second appointment but that was just a muscle check so no dilation necessary. I actually had to hold him arms down so she could get the drops in his eyes. It was pretty ridiculous.

The nice thing is that then you have to wait a while for the drops to take effect and that break really helped to reset Kirk’s behavior. We played in both of the waiting rooms at the clinic so he could check out the varying toys. He even made friends with a couple of other kids in for whatever check-ups that day. So by the time he was seen by the actual doctor himself, he was reasonably cooperative.

The doctor wants Kirk to see a specialist. A specialist in eye surgery. I think I did a good job of not freaking out but also not being meek. I wanted to make sure that by seeing a specialist we weren’t passively agreeing to any surgery without further discussion. As I understand it, Kirk’s got a more unusual form of the strabismus than is typical for a kid. His vision in his right eye is equal to the vision in his left eye. They are both farsighted the same amount. So when he’s wearing his glasses, the right eye is straight. However, the muscle in the right eye is still weaker so it hasn’t been corrected by the workout of wearing glasses. In this instance that means that giving him an eye patch, to force the right eye to work overtime, wouldn’t actually make a difference because his sight isn’t the issue. (I wonder if this would work? Heh.) The doctor doesn’t know if this is something that Kirk will just grow out of and that’s why he wants a second opinion. I guess that makes sense, though I’m still completely freaked by the idea of my child needing surgery. But it’ll take a while before we find out since the specialist likely won’t be able to get us in for many months. In the meantime, Kirk’s glasses prescription remains the same and no other changes need to take place so that’s good.

Socializing

Kirk is destined to be The Weird Kid in school. I mean, I suppose it was sort of inevitable with us as his parents. He could have rebelled by becoming a football jock or something but that’s already seeming incredibly unlikely. I’ve noticed that he even increases his weirdness quotient when he’s around other kids he’s not very familiar with. We were at a company softball game last week and he was off playing with random stranger kids that were attached to the game at the adjacent diamond. And he was totally upping the bizarre behavior, strange voices, calling things by the wrong names, deliberately subverting the rules of their impromptu game, that kind of thing. After some tattling to us they ended up finding a rhythm and playing together nicely but it definitely took a while.

I’ve noticed that older kids tend to exclude Kirk when there’s a group of kids playing together. At daycare there’s a 5 year old boy that he just idolizes and this boy is generally nice to Kirk. Except when all the other kids are gone for the day and the only other one left besides them is the 7 year old Mean Girl. Then they are rude and mean and call him names and don’t let him play with them. I’ve even seen this happen with Kirk’s alley friend who is about to turn 6. They play together so nicely and are really great friends, running over to each other’s houses and playing in each other’s yards. But whenever any of the other neighborhood kids are involved, again Kirk ends up being left behind.

I’m trying to not get too involved in child politics. Obviously he’s going to have to learn how to fend for himself because he’ll be starting school in a year and lord knows he’ll be interacting with all kinds then. But I am also trying to make sure that we go to as many family friendly artistic and intellectual type events as possible. Like the iron pour back in July. Going to Art-a-Whirl. We’re meeting my sister for a community theater production of the Jungle Book this Thursday. We bring both kids with to drop Daddy off at gigs. I bring them to book club once a month. Basically I want him to know that there are other weirdos out there. Musicians and artists and comic book readers and sci-fi fans and boys that wear pink dresses. He may be called “nerd” already (which I think is solely due to wearing glasses) but being a nerd is a good thing.

We do need to help Kirk to understand fandom. He gets so obsessive over something and expects everybody to automatically know what he’s talking about every single time. Not everyone has seen exactly what movie or book he’s referencing. Hell, not everybody has even heard of things like Doctor Who. Most kids can’t name a single rock drummer from the 60s, much less choose a favorite one.

I’ve decided that one thing I can do is get Kirk involved in activities. Nothing major. Just community offerings like swimming lessons and karate. I’ve been talking about signing him up for something for a year now and haven’t gotten around to doing it yet. I don’t think I can put it off anymore. I certainly don’t expect or even want him to be “normal” but I do think having some “normal” interests will help to normalize him around other kids.

Current Events

No means no. No I’m serious. It really does. When I tell you to stop jumping next to your sister, you need to stop. When I tell you to stop climbing the side of the couch, that doesn’t mean you should do it again. One more time is not an option. You need to quit.

Bundle slept basically through the night. I got her down about 10pm and she didn’t start to stir until nearly 5am. I don’t expect it to last but it was a pleasant surprise!

I’m really overthinking party times for Kirk’s Fourth Birthday Party.

The little girl is rolling over. It’s largely unintentional but it’s also pretty regular. She’ll be startled by her sudden back position after having just been propped up on her tummy and it’ll freak her out. Ronnie also likes to curl up on her side when lying on her back and is starting to move into tummy time from there. So both ways. Time to dig out the baby gate. And make sure the floors are cleaner. Ugh.

Kirk has a workaround for hate speech. He is not allowed to shout, “I don’t like you Mama” or Daddy or anyone else. So when he’s pissed he’ll bust out with, “I don’t like everyone.” It’s kind of hilarious. And who hasn’t had those moments of extreme misanthropy?

When I leave my nursing pads out they end up of the floor by morning. I figured one of the cats was playing with them but I wasn’t sure which one. Last night I saw Squeakers Squirrel sniffing at them. I guess it makes sense she’d be interested in the sweet smell of dried on boobie milk.

The kids are usually the last ones there when I drop them off at daycare. All the others gather around Veronica in her carseat while I help Kirk get his shoes, and hoodie if he’s wearing one, off and put away. Then he gives me at least one of the following: a hug, a kiss, a high five, a fist bump (blow it up), a nose rub. Sometimes I get all five. Then I give the Bundle a kiss and I’m off.

Kirk is starting to sometimes claim he “had a bad dream”, about twenty seconds after he’s been put to bed. Not falling for it.

Science!

Last night Kirk stepped on his sister. On her chest. The thing is, he wasn’t being malicious. But it also wasn’t an accident. He was experimenting. I was in the kitchen and I heard Bundle scream out in pain. When I turned around I saw him bent down and giving her kisses. It took a second to register that he had done something before I started in with the accusations. “What did you do to her?!”

When he admitted he stepped on her I had to ask where and he rubbed her chest. So then I had to check to make sure everything felt OK before I picked her up to comfort her. I asked if it was an accident and I could see the wheels turning before he answered no. Yeah right. If it had been a foot or hand I could buy accident. Hell, even arm or leg. But not chest.

After Mr. b got home from school I found out that Kirk had been testing the waters earlier. He had apparently been lightly resting his foot on her, removing it quickly when his father saw what he was doing. So clearly it had been on his mind for a while. That helps explain why he didn’t seem very remorseful. But he knew he was in trouble and he brushed his teeth extra good last night as a peace offering.

This is only the beginning of the sibling fun.

What's On My Mind

Ronnie continues to be a champ at nursing. The only position we don't seem to have mastered is laying down in bed; it's good enough that I can catch an hour of sleep before returning her to her bassinet if I'm desperate. She does, however, go through these periods of feeding frenzy every few days where she's chomping at my nipples and demanding boob like every 30 minutes. Usually in the evenings. When I get to the point where I can't take her squirming anymore then I pass her on to her dad. Mr. b has been working on bottle training her. It's slow going but he reminded me that it was hard work with Kirk, too. And she's obviously got to learn.

I'm still not getting much via pumping but I guess I don't care. We can have Ronnie on formula at daycare and I'll continue to pump when I go back to work and that's what we'll have for everything in between.

Kirk continues to be absolutely smitten with his sister. He takes his big brother duties very seriously. If I ask him to watch her for a minute, he'll literally watch her. He loves announcing that she "wants boobie" when she starts to fuss. He's very patient and understanding about the fact that she doesn't do anything yet. He talks about how she's growing and will learn things. It's darling and sweet.

I think we've finally discovered his reversion though. Kirk wants to sleep in our bed a lot again. It's been quite some time since he's done that. If Mr. b happens to be crashed on the couch or downstairs I don't mind because there's enough room, even if Ronnie is next to me instead of in her bundle bin. But all four of us gets crowded! Last night Kirk just brought himself to our bed; I have a vague memory of him showing up and Mr. b just woke up and he was there. The problem was that Kirk apparently thought that if I was awake at 4 am nursing his sister then he could be up and jumping around and telling stories. His father got him put back into his own bed after that.

I took the bundle in for the obligatory visit at work yesterday. I can't believe my leave is already half over.

I'm so ready to start the allowed-to-have-sex-again countdown.

I think I've already lost the miniscule amount of baby weight I gained this time. My pants all fit already. And I haven't even started exercising yet. I plan to start that next week. I can feel the laziness in my muscles. Or at least, I can feel it during those rare moments when I'm well rested. I'm eating like a maniac, however, so I think milk production must be helping. The lactation nurse at the hospital said you need an extra 300 calories a day when you're pregnant but an extra 500 when you're nursing. Damn. I can tell.

I need to investigate the rules for drinking. I've heard that beer can help with milk let down and I'm presuming that means one drink in general and not beer specifically. I figure one drink won't affect the milk. Mr. b has bought me a couple of those flavored Smirnoff thingies and I haven't been able to finish one the two times I've had one. (Of course he bought me tall boys both times and then got to finish them himself so there may have been an ulterior motive there.) I know the phrase "pump and dump" but I don't know the details. At what point does the alcohol hit the milk ducts? Is the milk that's in there when you start drinking fine? What if you can't drain it all or how can you tell it's safe again?

There's a subtle difference to how I view us as a unit now that we have two kids. Before we were a couple that had a son. Now we're a family.

Here's What Happened: Part 1

My water broke.

See, that just sounds so dramatic, doesn't it? You get a vision of a complete flood of fluid gushing out and making a mess. And maybe that's true for some women. For me it was more like a slow leak. And I didn't even pay any attention to it for hours. I had noted to myself that it was definitely a damp night. But since the doctor had just checked me out on that Monday and confirmed it was not amniotic fluid I just didn't really pay much attention. Saturday mornings are my designated sleep-in day of the weekend and I wasn't about to give up that extra sack time.

Mr. b had a hair cut appointment at Noon so I did finally get up and get dressed - showered and everything! - before we all left. I had planned to have a nice afternoon hanging out with Kirk in Dinkytown. We dropped Mr. b off and walked down to the bookstore that has kitties and puppies and birds and fishies as residents. I figured we could browse for a while and then get some lunch. But Kirk decided to be a royal jerk instead. After several stern talkings-to that made no difference, I finally dragged him outta there while he was screaming, "I wanna be nice! I wanna be nice!" So we set off on a brisk walk around the block to get him to calm down. My folks called while we were walking (Kirk was still alternating between, "I don't like you, Mama!" and "I wanna be nice!") to check up on me but I was frankly too focused on the bratty three year old by my side and blew them off. Kirk finally calmed down after several blocks and we made our way back to the hair place.

Mr. b's haircut was nearly done so we decided to just wait there. Kirk asked to use the bathroom and since preggos have to go all the time, too, I took the opportunity to pee as long as I was in there with him. And that's when I noticed that the discharge was sort of pinkish.

I got on the phone and called my insurance company's nurse line to ask if amniotic fluid was pink. The answer was, "It can be." So then I had to try to get a hold of my doctor. Of course my clinic's phone system is being upgraded and it was offline that weekend. The answering service took my message and all we could do was wait. But I didn't feel in the least bit like I was about to go into labor. We walked over to Mr. b's old cafe and got drinks, joking with his former employees that I was going to be having the baby that day. We figured that we'd just start heading towards the hospital. Doc called when we had just started out and suggested the same thing: just head to the hospital. They can confirm if it's really amniotic fluid or not.

When we got to the hospital, same place I delivered Kirk, I still had my unfinished chai in hand. We calmly walked into the emergency room and I stated that I needed to find out if my water had broken or not. With Kirk I was fully in labor at that point and don't really remember the bureaucracy we dealt with there. We just walked ourselves up to the maternity ward this time and I stated the same thing when we arrived. All while still working on my chai. They got us a room and I changed into a hospital gown. I had had one single contraction during the drive up and nothing since then. Kirk thought it was just neat to be at a doctor place where he wasn't the patient.

Our nurse went through all the various questions that I guess they have to ask for this process. He was pretty funny about them so it was quick and easy. He did dismiss my boys while he took the sample for testing. And the verdict was: I was going to be having a baby. It was indeed amniotic fluid and therefore the sterile environment was breached and the baby was coming out. Period.

I felt rather bewildered by all this. I mean, aren't you supposed to, I don't know, actually be going into labor when that sort of pronouncement is made? Everything was pretty much the exact opposite of how it went down with Kirk. Well, once again we laughed off the ridiculous idea of having a birth plan and once again we didn't have an overnight bag prepared but everything else was completely different. I had called my parents back on the drive to the hospital to ask them if they could come get Kirk depending on the results of the test. So I called them once again to confirm that Mom is indeed psychic and I was having the baby and Kirk would need someplace to stay.

Sleep, Eat, Poop

The biggest difference between Ronnie and Kirk so far is that she's nursing. Kirk was nearly a pound smaller and just didn't have the sucking reflex down at all. Plus since he was in the Level II nursery for a week I never got a chance to really spend time figuring it out with him. It was all about measurable amounts of fluid, breast milk or formula, to get him to gain weight. So it was kind of weird to have Ronnie in the hospital room with me and to be released before the full 48 hours were even up.

However, she's still small so jaundice is a very real issue. She's definitely yellowish in her face and halfway down her chest. Her extremities remain pink. But she's eating well and has been pooping the real breast fed baby poop instead of just the newborn meconium so the bilirubin is definitely being expunged. Just not as fast as we might like.

The homecare nurse came to check us out on Wednesday and found that Ronnie had dropped down to 5 pounds 8 ounces. She was down to 5lb 11oz when we left the hospital, and a weight drop is completely normal, but this was only 1 ounce off from the 10% birth weight benchmark. So the nurse suggested we bump up our first well baby visit to Thursday instead of next week. Ronnie was back up to 5lb 10oz at the clinic but who knows if that's because she had just eaten and she was totally hungry the day before. Either way, her weight is looking good and she's already grown a half inch in height. The doc wanted to have her blood checked though and get a bilirubin count. Since she was on the edge of intermediate and high levels, we took her in again this morning for the same blood work. This time it dropped, only very slightly, but at least it didn't go up. Jaundice apparently peaks on day 4 or 5 after birth so again, that all lines up. Doc decided that she should be fine over the weekend and doesn't need to have any UV treatment. At least it would have been an at-home option (they have some kind of a psychedelic light blanket now) so it's not like we would have had to take her in or anything. He'll check her out again on Monday.

Basically the weekend plan is lots of boobie milk and laying in patches of sunshine whenever possible. Nursing is very sweet but man alive do my nipples take a beating. Ronnie hasn't settled into any kind of feeding pattern yet so it's pretty much every 2 hours no matter what. She's gone as long as 4 hours between sessions but then she's also had at least one cluster feeding every day where she wants to eat about every 30 minutes for a good 2 to 3 hours. Those seem to be happening in the middle of the night so I need to start going to bed earlier just to combat that insanity. We'll figure it out. Strangely, all the trouble I had with Kirk is benefitting me now. I already knew about various techniques for latching her on, breaking the seal, getting her to swallow, and on and on. Only this time I can put that knowledge to use. I'll start pumping next week and then Mr. b can take some of the feedings. He's been awesome, changing all the diapers and doing nearly all of the Kirk care. But I know he wishes he could do more.