Pregnancy and Motherhood Archive

This was our conversation on the way to dinner:

Kurt: We’re old…mostly you.
Me: Really, you were born in 72 and I wasn’t even alive yet.
Kurt: Ok I’m old and you’re a young whipper snapper. Coot.
Me: My cooter isn’t a snapper.
Kurt: I beg to differ; it’s a Penis Fly Trap.

We went out for Chinese food and Sophia played with all the tea cups as if they were stacking cups. I suppose they do stack nicely. Kurt poured tea in ours and Sophia insisted that she also get some. Hers received a complimentary ice cube. She promptly and purposely dumped it all on the seat just as she dumps the water out of the toy watering can at swimming; only the Chinese restaurant wasn’t in the middle of a pool.

After Kurt finished his tea Sophia had two cups, two saucers, and an extra plate meant for us to share our food with her. We did give her some of our food to try and she did try it in a manner of speaking. She tried using a fork to put the rice in a tea cup, and she tried tipping the tea cup to empty the rice back into the dish. She also organized the dishes. The cups fit neatly in the middle of the saucers and she organized them this way. She then stacked the cups together, and in a separate pile she stacked the saucers together. Kurt and I were impressed by her categorization. Of course after dinner we loaded her into the car and she began chewing on her books. Not as impressive.

My fortune for the night, “Remember three months from this date. Good things are in store for you.

I received my new credit card with my new name on Monday so I replaced it with the old one in my wallet and put the old card on top of the shredder downstairs. That night I decided to go to Kmart and Target to see what they carried for bicycle trailers and left Sophia downstairs with Kurt.

I came back home within thirty minutes empty handed. Neither store had anything or at least nothing in stock. Kurt told me that when I left Sophia grabbed my old credit card off of the shredder, went upstairs, put her jacket half on, and knocked at the door hoping to come with me. Aaaww

I asked Kurt to wake the baby from her nap yesterday because I was making dinner. She didn’t fall asleep until three but I didn’t want her to take too late and then not go to bed at night. He went up and I heard Sophia crying, then Kurt laughing. He came down with fussy baby in his arms. Though I was curious as to why the crying baby made him laugh, I wasn’t looking.

Kurt: I’m guessing when you put her down for her nap she was fully dressed?
Me: Yes

I looked up. Sophia had no pants and had pulled her left arm out of it’s sleeve through the neck hole. She looked like a cave baby with a diaper.

I started Sophia in swimming classes when she turned six months but because of work, scheduling, and not having enough arms to get Sophia dressed after class and then hold her while I got dressed, that six week session was our last for a while. I didn’t start her up again until she was nearly a year old. Not that she screamed or anything, but It took her a month to become used to being in the water. I think it took a lot longer to warm up to her swim instructor, so a couple months ago when he had to take so much personal time off that the class would switch to another instructor Sophia didn’t like her at first.

The new instructor sang a lot more songs with less free time for the moms to chat, which also bugged me at first, but she also made sure to spend some time with each child. She tries more to get to know them and get them to interact with her specifically instead of just allowing the moms to move the baby hands at the appropriate time within a nursery song. She asks each toddler to splash the water or blow bubbles and to give high-fives. Upon receiving a high-five, she will dunk herself in the water. Most of the kids are enamored by this and caught on quickly. Sophia was too reserved to extend her hand, so for weeks I did it for her, not right away mind you. I did give her a chance to try on her own, sometimes I just let her sit there, and the instructor would touch her own hand to Sophia.

Finally last week I saw a change. Sophia’s other instructor had taught a couple of the previous classes and so this day the new one was back and Sophia was excited to see her. She kept reaching for her from across the pool. She finally came over to us for high-fives and Sophia smacked Melissa’s hand on her own.

On Tuesday Melissa came to Sophia and asked her to splash the water with her hands then to blow bubbles. Sophia wouldn’t do it. She instead reached for Melissa’s hand and tried to smack it with her other hand in order to dunk her swim instructor. Melissa didn’t go down and instead started to talk with another child, so Sophia began splashing her hands as previously asked. Anything to get what she wants; she truly is a little shit.

Sophia had finished eating so she was playing in the living room while Kurt and I ate dinner. Sophia signaled that she wanted onto the recliner. Dutiful daddy Kurt got up and helped her up. He came back to the table to eat. The lounging toddler, who constantly reminds us of Al Bundy from Married with Children except that she doesn’t keep her hand tucked into her pants, made the sign for milk. Dutiful slave daddy got up and brought a sippy cup of milk to the toddler lounge.

Kurt: I can’t believe I’m serving an infant
Me: Tell daddy you’re not an infant you’re a toddler
Kurt: If she’s a toddler she should toddle her own ass to the fridge!

In a cupboard or in a drawer nothing is secure. Tossing items left and right everything is strewn about, out of place and all around the room. No matter the contents, nothing is sacred when the toddler tornado comes to town. After a nightstand dissection, I’m thankful she cannot yet ask, “Mom, what is this?”

(click on the picture to see the movie)

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

At Sophia’s eighteen month checkup almost two months ago, she sat on my lap facing outward towards the nurse. The nurse commented on how big Sophia’s eyes are and said that she would be a heartbreaker, then chuckled and told me that Sophia rolled her eyes at the comment. Yep, I’m going to have my hands full. No doubt about it.

The Monday after her checkup Sophia simultaneously began the temper tantrum phase and the “I can do it myself” phase, probably catapulted by yours truly while attempting to put new shoes on baby-screams-a-lot. I bought her a pair of sandals in the hopes that someday winter will take a hint and acknowledge that it has overstayed its welcome, especially after the whole December flight travel crap.

Sophia seemed to love the new sandals as she spent the following hour after arriving home from the store putting the sandals on and taking them off again. Sometimes she even put each one on the correct foot, but all bets are off when I put the sandals on her. Totally unacceptable and apparently overstepping my bounds as a parent by trying to get her out of shoes she was quickly outgrowing. The child doesn’t like change. I blame her father for this. He purposely passed on those genes to piss me off-fa-fah.

I wound up putting her old shoes on that evening just so we could go out peacefully, and then it started. At a restaurant of all places. Thankfully it was a place we go to frequently. We placed a well mannered toddler in the highchair and without warning; this devilish contraption turned her into exorcist toddler minus the green spewing from the mouth. She rocked back and forth wailing as if we had permanently removed her callused thumb and told her she can’t suck it anymore. That’ll come soon enough, but I promise we won’t actually remove her thumb so put the phone call to CPS on hold for a little while. By the way, she absolutely loves her sandals now and will hang onto my shoulder and lift each foot for me to put them on or of course she’ll put them on herself.

We discovered that she calmed right down when I let her sit in the big people chair next to me. Seriously? She thinks she’s a big girl. She can’t see over the table and she drinks from a sippy cup, but she’s a ‘big girl’.

The next day was a sunny one and the beginning of swimming again. Oh what a relief! The pool was closed for the month of March for cleaning. I was so happy for some scheduled thing to do that I had a great day despite the little one throwing four separate tantrums including two in the locker room before and after swimming. All four occurring before naptime, and included her learning to bite me on one occasion that day. I think she hit the terrible twos at eighteen months. I guess the terrible eighteen months just doesn’t roll off the tongue like the terrible twos do. How long does this crap last anyway?

I need some scheduled activities to help me through the week, so I was happy to sign Sophia up for gymnastics which started two weeks before swimming picked up again but despite the age range listed on the catalog, Sophia simply was not ready for it. Gymnastics was too structured for us. Unlike swimming where we just recite nursery rhymes and encourage kicking across the pool interspersed with moms socializing while the kids from age six months to three years play with water toys, gymnastics insisted that for the entire time children from eighteen months to three years follow a course and listen to what the teacher says.

Through the course, there was a cushy red balance beam no more than six inches high. I tried to help Sophia follow the others but when it came to that spot, putting her on that was like trying to place a cat in a bath tub. She wouldn’t put her legs down at all and wiggled more the closer I brought her to it. She didn’t want to touch the red beam. She didn’t follow any of the directions and she basically just wanted me to carry her all through class. She did like the trampoline, but there was no, grab a toy and bounce on the trampoline with everyone in this class. They only allowed one kid at a time on the trampolines. It was expected that the kids jump while making their way across the trampoline and not linger while the rest had to stand in line and wait their turn.

Sophia is still learning to follow my instructions at home, “no standing on the chair”, “sit on your butt”, and we practice waiting our turn on the slides at the park. That is really enough structure for us right now, thank you very much. We will stick with swimming. Though my I think the nap time benefit of swimming is backfiring on me. She does take good naps but it’s also building her endurance. A couple weeks ago, Kurt and I went for a walk and the midget walked about three quarters of a mile pushing her own stroller.

The tantrums with biting went to the wayside after about three times. My only reaction to them was to yell, “OUCH” and not do what she wanted until she calmed down. But the tantrums continue and ignite with anything from not wanting to get dressed or get a diaper changed, refusing to use known signs or words to convey wants, and demanding to play with certain objects.

Yesterday Kurt and I went on a bike ride and insisted that Sophia wear a helmet. I think bicycle helmets are retarded but we have her wear one because she is up much higher sitting in a chair attached to the back of my bike than she would be if she could ride her own bike, and if I crashed, she would hit her head since she’s strapped in. Otherwise, I think they’re completely useless especially against getting hit from a phantom car that shouldn’t be on a bike trail anyway. In the few times I’ve ever fallen off a bike I’ve never hit my head. I have sprained a wrist but that’s it. I see whole families of helmet people all over. Dumb. And we saw a girl with her helmet family on a pristine powder blue bike wearing a helmet and knee pads. KNEE PADS on a bike, really? I wanted to run over and wrap the child in bubble wrap for her parents. Bubble child just couldn’t be protected enough. *eye roll* Apparently it’s beyond amazing that I survived my childhood because I rode my bike on streets without a helmet or knee pads, but I digress.

My little angel threw a fit as we tried to apply a helmet to her noggin. Secretly I’m thinking, “that’s my girl”, but we insisted. She stopped screaming and crying once I got going but she kept her grumpy face on for the five miles until we reached our playground stopping point, then she got all excited and was trying to get all the straps off to go play.

As long as there aren’t a bunch of rambunctious older kids on a playground Sophia runs to play areas and even engages other children. By engages I mean that she follows boys her own age and older girls. She also tries to politely play with their toys. One time a girl about six years old had a toy cell phone that Sophia wanted to play with. She stood next to the girl watching and then pointed and grunted, which is her own way of requesting just about everything. But if we take the child to a restaurant with a group of Kurt’s coworkers, which we do about once a month, she becomes clingy Velcro baby. She won’t even sit in a chair next to me or go to dad. She must sit on ME, and often times will curl up into a ball on my lap.

With some people, it doesn’t matter how often they come over to our house. Kurt had a friend over to watch motorcycle racing and all Sophia did was sit on Kurt’s lap and give him the baby evil eye from across the room. Sophia does do well with some individual friends though. I’ve gone to the zoo and other outings with a friend that Sophia actually let take her out of her car seat. Another friend who has a three month old of her own is able to get Sophia to laugh and interact with her. Yay for some toddler socialization.

At Sophia’s last two checkups, I’ve been asked as part of their routine milestone measurements if Sophia can point to her body parts. The first time I was asked, at her fifteen month checkup, I told the nurse that wasn’t something I had worked on with her. I figured I would start right then. She didn’t really pick it up until a week after next appointment, her eighteen month checkup.

Her first identifiable body part was her tummy. She happily discovered it after I stopped using bodysuits on her because the tagless stencils were causing a rash on her back. “Where’s your tummy?” On cue, and without formal training, she would lift her shirt and pat her belly.

Because of the short-lived fetish she had with wearing my shoes around the house her next identifiable body part was her feet. Then, her nose which she has renamed the, “Nuh-Nuh”. Next were her eyes. She really likes enunciating the long ‘e’ sound so she points and says, “Eye-EE”. Today I finally got her to point to her ear and mouth. Of course “pointing” to her mouth requires that her mouth be open and her hand or arm cover and uncover it while she makes noise, usually referred to as the Indian War Cry except in front of Native Americans of course. Ssshh don’t tell them the term is still used. It’s not as flattering to their heritage as casinos.

Kurt took Tuesday off work so that I could take Chelan, our 10 year old husky, to the Veterinary Specialist Clinic for an ultrasound. We knew this would be an all day event and I didn’t want to try and entertain a toddler at a clinic for hours on end. We weren’t very optimistic because over the weekend Chelan had stopped eating and we had to get creative by putting her food in the blender with a ton of water for a nasty doggy-kibble-shake. She still didn’t eat very much. I don’t really blame her it looked horrible.

In March we went from filling the dogs’ outdoor five gallon water bucket about once a week to filling it every other day. That switch happened practically overnight. She’s drinking about two and a half gallons of water a day! The only other possible clue that she was sick was back in December she lost some weight but she easily gained it back after I started giving her a little more food. Thursday I finally got all the results back. After several blood tests, x-rays, and an ultrasound they told us it started as a tumor in the anal gland that has now metastasized to lymph nodes just under the spine.

We’ve decided that she’s just too weak for surgery and chemotherapy. Jumping out of the truck, she would nearly hit her shoulder to the ground. Chelan’s usual vet chalked it up to arthritis but the specialist we were referred to confirmed for me that it was her high calcium levels that were making her so weak and affecting her appetite. She is on pills to keep her calcium levels down. She’s doing a lot better now but obviously this is not going to fix her cancer. We’re just making her comfortable.

On Wednesday, Sophia added another word to her vocabulary, “Bye”. She says it very abruptly unlike it’s antonym, “Hi-eeee”, which she happily says with a wave. She said her new word a few times outside of it’s context but alternating it with it’s antonym.

The next day she added another word. I picked her up from her nap and she said, “momma” before laying her head on my shoulder and sucking her thumb. She only said it once though. I told Kurt when her arrived home from work. He told me that on Tuesday, the day I spent hauling our cancer patient to and from the vet clinic, Sophia was grumpy so he asked her what she wanted. She answered, “Momma”.