We got a new pet!

Back in the fall, we had promised The Climber a fish for Christmas if he kept being a good boy. Then come Christmas, we forgot... and shockingly, so did The Climber! Until last Thursday that is, when he suddenly remembered and got really upset. A promise is a promise after all, so off to the pet store we went! He was allowed to pick out any fish he wanted, provided it was a betta. Behold!

I formally present the newest addition to our family- Blue Blue You! You can guess who named him, and yes he is, in fact, blue. But I'm really in no position to make fun of The Climber's pet naming skills, because when I was little I had a parakeet named Parakeet. It must be hereditary!

Toddler Rules to Live By

I know this has been done before, but I have a few more rules to add to the various lists already circling the internet.


Toddler Rules to Live By
 
1) I will not walk, but run (or bounce) everywhere we go. Unless we are in a rush or late, in which case I will walk as slowly as possible, making sure to examine everything I pass in excruciating detail.

2) I will never want to willingly use the potty. Except at bedtime once the whole bedtime routine has been completed and Mommy/Daddy is about to walk out the door.

3) I will always answer every question with "NO" and it is up to my parents to figure out when I really mean "yes" but say "no" anyway. And I will have a tantrum if they have trouble distinguishing between the two.

4) The middle of the floor and/or where people frequently walk is the best place to set up Legos, trains, blocks, etc. My creations are not to be moved. Ever.

5) I will never love the same food two days in a row. Except for Happy Meals. Good luck planning dinner.

6) I will always say "Mommy" (or "Daddy") 15 times in a row before getting to what I actually want to tell you.

7) When I say I have to tell you something, it's really important. I swear I'm not just stalling.

8) I will constantly surprise you with things you didn't know I knew how to do. Like using the key to open the front door and escape outside, or turning on Daddy's laptop and watching Thomas movies on You Tube.

9) Pants are optional. So is underwear. Actually, let's just make that all clothes in general.

10) Anything that I give you (random rocks, interesting sticks, this calcified piece of dog poop I just found) is a priceless treasure that you must keep forever.

What's with all the Santa Haters?

I've come across a new aspect of the "Mommy Wars" this year: moms who do the whole "Santa thing" and moms who think letting their kids believe in Santa and Christmas magic is akin to letting them worship the devil. I really don't understand the hatred. I can maybe see the whole "I don't want to lie to my kids, and Christmas is really supposed to be about Jesus" argument, because that is true. Christmas is really about the birth of Jesus (if you are Christian) and our kids probably shouldn't be so fixated on the commercial and material aspects of the holiday season, i.e. PRESENTS! But to kill Santa all together? Why?  What's the harm in letting your child have this small joy and sense of wonder? Taking that away from them just seems mean.

I think my main problem with the moms in the anti-Santa camp is almost every single one of them is so sanctimonious about it, as if everyone else is a horrible parent for perpetuating the myth, and our children are going to grow up so spoiled and scarred because we "lied" to them. Oh please. I grew up believing in Santa, and I believed for a lot longer than most kids probably would have, mostly because my parents were very creative in their "lies". When I figured out the truth, did I have a mental breakdown? No, because I realized, even as a kid, that my belief in Santa enriched the holiday season for me. In fact, I can't think of a single person I know who was "scarred" when they found out the truth. And my parents still label some of my gifts as being from Santa, even though the jig is up and I'm in my thirties, simply because its FUN. After all, isn't that what childhood is supposed to be about?

Our children are going to grow up fast enough, and will learn all too soon how harsh the real world can be. To take Santa away, in my opinion, is just cruel. What's next, telling our kids that they can't really grow up to be a princess or a knight? That their imaginary friend is just made up? That they are not really playing with a sword, it's just an empty roll of wrapping paper? And I highly doubt that these Santa is Satan sanctimommies  have never EVER lied to their kids. We've all used the old "sorry honey, the toy store is closed today" fib at least once in our lives!

What's your take on Santa?

The Toddler Mantra: I Want to Do It Myself!

The Climber wants to do everything himself. The start of this phase coincided almost exactly with this third birthday. Sometimes, this works in my favor. Like when he wants to go potty by himself, feed himself, or play trains by himself. Other times, it's my worst nightmare. Case in point- our last trip to the supermarket.

The Climber and I stopped in to the supermarket for just a handful of things. Thinking we didn't need the burden of a big cart (and of trying to keep The Climber in it), I just grabbed a basket. That's when it started.

"I want to carry the basket! I've got big muscles!" says The Climber. Since it's empty and since we are only getting a few things, I relent and let him carry the basket. But of course as we go around the store I inevitably start remembering a few other things we need, and the basket starts to get heavier. It reaches the point where The Climber is no longer carrying it, but is instead pushing it on the floor with both hands.

As cute as this looks, it's taking much too long and we are in a rush. So when I add the half gallon of milk, I decide that's enough.

"Here honey, let Mommy carry the basket, it's getting too heavy," I say.

"NOOOOOOOOOO! I WANT TO CARRY IT. I HAVE BIG MUSCLES! I'M BIG AND STRONG!!!!!"

There is no way he can carry it. The basket is heavy even for me. I pick it up and try my best to calm him down, because he is now crying and approaching full on tantrum mode. The Climber has never had a public tantrum before (how I've escaped this, I have no idea), but he seems hell bent on having his first one right now.

After getting tired of dragging his crying butt down the aisle, I give in.

"Fine. If you can pick it up, you can carry the basket."

The tears magically cease and a look of sheer joy crosses his face! Beaming, he attempts to pick up the basket. Several times in fact. And then he says:

"Mommy, can you carry it? It's too heavy."

For some reason, "I told you so" didn't bring me any comfort.

What Naptime Means in Our House

Now that The Climber is in his big boy bed, naptime has become a bit of a challenge. When he was in his crib, he would just hold onto the side rail and bounce and bounce and bounce until he fell down and passed out. Since that isn't an option in the regular bed, he find new ways to entertain himself during naptime. Here's a list of things The Climber seems to think constitute "taking a nap":

1) running around in circles in the middle of the floor until he falls over from dizziness

2) jumping on the bed until he flops down, usually whacking his head/face on the end of the bed in the process

3) laying on the floor and banging his head against the wall repeatedly

4) telling himself various imaginative and very involved stories

5) coming up with neverending excuses as to why he can't sleep (my bed is too lumpy, I need some milk, I have jobs to do and need my tools, I need you to snuggle with me, I need a hug, I have to pee, my bed is too comfy, etc. etc. etc.)

6) climbing up the safety bars on his window like its a ladder until he's standing on the window sill

7) unscrewing the decorative knobs on his headboard and footboard because they are his new bouncy balls

8) turning his ceiling fan on and off because he can now reach the switch from the end of his bed

and (my all time favorite)

9) pretending he's stuck on/in something so I have to come up and rescue him


And those are just from today. I think he's beginning to outgrow the whole nap thing (God help me).

Note: I realize some of these things I'm describing are dangerous, and yes I do go in there once he starts doing something that could result in injury.

Mother's Day... They Mean Well

So here I am, a year later, and the whole blog thing never took off. The toddler years are challenging, as many of you may know, and I never got around to posting again. But now that The Climber is almost 3 and a little more in control of himself, I find I have a little more time to myself to do things like write a blog. So here I go, my second ever post, which will hopefully have a third before another year passes!

As the title of this post implies, here is how Mother's Day with a toddler went for me:

6:30 am- The Climber wakes up earlier then usual (of course). I kick my husband and ask him to let me sleep in since, you know, it's Mother's Day. His response: "Hmpaihejkhren." Back to sleep he goes. I however, can't go back to sleep (though I refuse to get up) in case The Climber gets into mischief in his room, as he usually does.

7:00 am- The Climber is now prancing around his room singing loudly (but happily!) at the top of his lungs some song he just made up. I kick my husband again to wake up and bring him downstairs for breakfast. Husband reluctantly gets up, making a big show of how difficult it is. Husband and The Climber go downstairs, and I attempt to go back to sleep.

7:20 am- I start to drift off when I hear loud thumping followed by giggling as The Climber escapes Husband and comes barreling up the stairs. Even louder thumping ensues as Husband races up after him yelling "Let Mommy sleep in, she's tired!" Heart is now pounding, eyes are wide open. Attempt to go back to sleep anyway.

7:45 am- Repeat of 7:20 incident only this time The Climber reaches the bedroom door and is in the process of opening it by the time Husband picks him up to carry him (screaming) back down the stairs. Sleep is beginning to seem less likely.

8:00 am- My phone beeps as a friend(with small children) texts me to wish me a Happy Mother's Day. Thank you, but why the f*uck aren't you trying to sleep in too?

8:30 am- CLANG CLANG SMASH "Uh-oh" CLANG CLANG. Husband and The Climber are making me breakfast in bed.

8:45 am- Crying coming from downstairs, cause unknown. Hysterical laughter follows 5 minutes later. What the hell is going on down there? Sleep eludes me as I contemplate the possibilities.

9:00 am- Husband and The Climber appear with breakfast in bed (awww)! The Climber scampers in saying "Happy Mommy's Day Mommy! I made you breakfast in bed! I'm going to steal all your bacon!" I, of course, melt instantly. Have breakfast in bed with The Climber and Husband. I then admit defeat and go downstairs with my boys to evaluate the extent of the mess in the kitchen.

Later we are downstairs getting ready for both sides of the family to come over for a BBQ. I yawn as I'm picking up The Climber's toys.  Husband says, "Why are you tired? YOU got to sleep in all morning!" Sigh. They mean well.