Chloë had a good visit with her grandpa this weekend (sadly, he has now gone back to his home in the computer), climbing all over him and dragging him around to play blocks or color or read or watch shows. Saturday a couple of our friends came over with their kids, and the three of them played in the backyard in the pool, and then on the slide, and then on the slide into the pool (and Dad watched them and, in some cases, doused them with the hose). Chloë's head went under water her first couple of slides because she goes down on her back, so we put her life jacket on her for some extra height, and she was happier after that.
This weekend she also reverted to a previous bad habit: namely, squeaking. Not long ago, she started putting an upward, questioning lilt on all of her sentences; and then she started pushing them up to horribly high, fingernail-on-chalkboard squeaking. I don't know why. We tolerated it and then, when it became apparent it wasn't a momentary thing, corrected it. She was cured, I thought, but then it came back. So we're back to correcting her. With luck, soon she will relent.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Potty training take two
Restart your engines, ladies and gentlemen: potty training is back on the table. Chloë has been all about her "Elmo's Potty Time" show (which she calls "Elmo Potty" and we try to call "Potty Elmo" to avoid saying things like "Yes, after breakfast we can watch Elmo potty") but declined to actually do anything with her potty, which has been sitting lonely and forlorn in our bathroom for months. We've been talking up the virtues of underwear and being like Elmo and no more diapers and being a big girl for a while now, but she's always refused when we ask if she'd like to try the potty, even though it's pretty evident she's ready to start toilet training. With Maia still pretty new in our lives, we decided we were going to give her until her birthday before we started getting serious about getting her on the potty.
Lately the Potty Elmo craze has died down and she's started asking after her other shows. But the other night, we tag-teamed her in her bedroom, talking about her potty and her diapers and Elmo and big-girlness until I kind of expected her to say "ENOUGH ALREADY," but instead she agreed that maybe she would like to sit on the potty. Especially when I threw in a sticker. Our agreement currently stands thus: every time she sits on the potty, she can have a sticker to put on the potty's lid. If she actually does anything in the potty, she gets an extra-special glittery moon sticker (moons are still very, very big with her--we made some cheese crackers the other day and she was insistent that they had to be moon-shaped--and seem appropriate in this case anyway).
No extra-special glittery moon stickers have yet been awarded, but there's a steadily growing collection of other stickers on the lid of the potty. She's very keen on these. She'll say "Koë need sticker now," instead of "Koë sit on potty." After deciding she's done and carefully placing her sticker, sometimes she'll ask to sit right back down on the potty. We've taken to telling her that she doesn't get a second sticker for these second tries, and she sits anyway, so that's something, but this sticker idea may turn out not to have been so brilliant as I'd hoped.
We know it's going to take a while for anything to happen. When I noticed her grunting a few times over the weekend, I asked if she was pooping, and she said yes, but when I suggested we go up to the potty she was firmly against it. "Koë need diaper on," she insisted. I got the impression last night, in fact, that she thinks the idea is to go in her diaper and then sit on the potty, so we'll have to be sure to put her on the potty at times other than when she thinks of it. I think this is what they call a work in progress.
Lately the Potty Elmo craze has died down and she's started asking after her other shows. But the other night, we tag-teamed her in her bedroom, talking about her potty and her diapers and Elmo and big-girlness until I kind of expected her to say "ENOUGH ALREADY," but instead she agreed that maybe she would like to sit on the potty. Especially when I threw in a sticker. Our agreement currently stands thus: every time she sits on the potty, she can have a sticker to put on the potty's lid. If she actually does anything in the potty, she gets an extra-special glittery moon sticker (moons are still very, very big with her--we made some cheese crackers the other day and she was insistent that they had to be moon-shaped--and seem appropriate in this case anyway).
No extra-special glittery moon stickers have yet been awarded, but there's a steadily growing collection of other stickers on the lid of the potty. She's very keen on these. She'll say "Koë need sticker now," instead of "Koë sit on potty." After deciding she's done and carefully placing her sticker, sometimes she'll ask to sit right back down on the potty. We've taken to telling her that she doesn't get a second sticker for these second tries, and she sits anyway, so that's something, but this sticker idea may turn out not to have been so brilliant as I'd hoped.
We know it's going to take a while for anything to happen. When I noticed her grunting a few times over the weekend, I asked if she was pooping, and she said yes, but when I suggested we go up to the potty she was firmly against it. "Koë need diaper on," she insisted. I got the impression last night, in fact, that she thinks the idea is to go in her diaper and then sit on the potty, so we'll have to be sure to put her on the potty at times other than when she thinks of it. I think this is what they call a work in progress.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Well, you can't argue with that.
[Chloë shrieks.]
Mama: What was that?
Chloë: Koë screamed.
Mama: Why did you scream?
Chloë: Koë not happy.
Mama: What was that?
Chloë: Koë screamed.
Mama: Why did you scream?
Chloë: Koë not happy.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Silly symphonies
I've been pulling out some of the silly songs I made up during Chloë's babyhood for use with Maia. Of the half-dozen or so I thought worth remembering, one is for baby exercises, and goes like this (with appropriate accompanying movements):
Baby arms go up, baby arms go down
Baby arms go all around
Baby arms go in, baby arms go out
Baby arms go all about
Baby arms do the wave, the wave, the wave, the wave
They do the Macarena, the Macarena
They clap clap clap, they clap clap clap, they clap clap clap clap cheer!
They pull you up here
They put you down there
Baby arms go everywhere!
Don't you judge me.
Ahem. Chloë heard me chanting this with Maia and loved it. I don’t know whether she has a dim memory of me doing it with her or if she likes seeing me waggle her sister's arms all over the place or what, but she'll request it when the three of us are sitting together. She laughs when I try to clap Maia's hands together and they're curled tight (which they always are). Then she says, "Do Koë." So I take her wrists and go through it with her. When we're done she sayd, "Do Maia." It's the cutest thing. I'm not sure where she picked up "Do" as a verb, at least in this context (is this the same as "Chloë do" or not?) but then I don't know where she picks up a lot of her words.
Baby arms go up, baby arms go down
Baby arms go all around
Baby arms go in, baby arms go out
Baby arms go all about
Baby arms do the wave, the wave, the wave, the wave
They do the Macarena, the Macarena
They clap clap clap, they clap clap clap, they clap clap clap clap cheer!
They pull you up here
They put you down there
Baby arms go everywhere!
Don't you judge me.
Ahem. Chloë heard me chanting this with Maia and loved it. I don’t know whether she has a dim memory of me doing it with her or if she likes seeing me waggle her sister's arms all over the place or what, but she'll request it when the three of us are sitting together. She laughs when I try to clap Maia's hands together and they're curled tight (which they always are). Then she says, "Do Koë." So I take her wrists and go through it with her. When we're done she sayd, "Do Maia." It's the cutest thing. I'm not sure where she picked up "Do" as a verb, at least in this context (is this the same as "Chloë do" or not?) but then I don't know where she picks up a lot of her words.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Surrender
So Maia has not liked being deprived of the R.I.N.D.S. while I’m at work. Last week, she took one bottle late Wednesday, and then none on Thursday and Friday, and we worried. Each night when I came home I nursed her, and I think she figured "Hey, if I wait long enough, Mom will come back." We tried different bottles, different locations--and when I say "we" I mean "Eric," because we figured my trying to offer the bottle would only make matters worse. We discussed offering formula. Saturday, we tried nursing half and then offering the bottle. Nothing worked. We decided that we must have a serious standoff, no R.I.N.D.S. allowed until she had successfully taken more than one bottle, no matter what, until she cracked. Or we did.
So early Sunday morning, Chloë and I went to the park and played on the slides and the swings while Eric stayed home with Maia and offered a bottle every half hour. Chloë and I came home for napping and lunch and pumping, me avoiding the room Maia was in whenever possible. We went out again to shop at various places, which included having a snack in the car on a ninety-degree day (yes, I kept the AC on) since I didn't think we'd be welcome in the store with fingers sticky with grapes and trailing goldfish crackers.
And Maia accepted a bottle, perhaps sensing that we were serious. (It probably also helps that people other than Eric had tried and failed to get her to take a bottle, so he knew it wasn't his technique causing the problem and was more confident.) Then she took another one. We nursed for the night, and Monday and yesterday she's taken her bottles quite competently. I think she may not be taking as much as she ought--two and a half or three ounces at a time--but she's eating, and that's what matters. The siege is over.
So early Sunday morning, Chloë and I went to the park and played on the slides and the swings while Eric stayed home with Maia and offered a bottle every half hour. Chloë and I came home for napping and lunch and pumping, me avoiding the room Maia was in whenever possible. We went out again to shop at various places, which included having a snack in the car on a ninety-degree day (yes, I kept the AC on) since I didn't think we'd be welcome in the store with fingers sticky with grapes and trailing goldfish crackers.
And Maia accepted a bottle, perhaps sensing that we were serious. (It probably also helps that people other than Eric had tried and failed to get her to take a bottle, so he knew it wasn't his technique causing the problem and was more confident.) Then she took another one. We nursed for the night, and Monday and yesterday she's taken her bottles quite competently. I think she may not be taking as much as she ought--two and a half or three ounces at a time--but she's eating, and that's what matters. The siege is over.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Demurred
I've mentioned before that there's a moment at the beginning of most nursing sessions when I hate my own skin and everyone else and realize that everything in my life has been a big mistake and I'm trapped in it forever. It happened with Chloë, and I didn't think about it much. It started up again with Maia, and after I realized my dissatisfaction with my life and my second child mostly stemmed from those moments, it occurred to me that maybe I should do something about it.
I started with the Internet, of course, and came upon something right away: D-MER, Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex. As far as I can tell, this is exactly what I've got. Essentially, the milk ejection reflex (which happens a short time into a nursing session and makes the milk actually flow rather than being sucked out) is coupled with a bigger-than-it-ought-to-be drop in dopamine levels, which causes various negative feelings until they level out again, which takes a few minutes. A couple of sites I read regarding it say that simply knowing that it's physiologically caused can help, and I've been finding that that's true. Now I get Maia settled, start feeling lousy, and then remember that it's because we just started nursing, and I'm usually okay. Sometimes I persist in feeling lousy, but it's gotten a lot better.
I mentioned it to Heather at the midwives' at my six-week checkup, wondering whether (a) they'd heard of it and (b) they had any other suggestions. She'd never heard of it. She was concerned, because we'd already discussed my increased risk of PPD ("If you think it's coming on again, we want to treat it pretty aggressively, because that works out better for women than if you don't fix it the first time") and wanted to know if I just wanted to go right back on an antidepressant, which I didn't. She promised to look it up and check with a couple of lactation specialists to get any advice they might have. A few days later she called (well, had a nurse call) and suggested counseling, because "a pill won't help; you can't take on every time you breastfeed." (I bet I could, but they'd have to make the pill first.)
I don't think this will help, so I'm not going; I'm doing okay now, there's a much more tenuous link between D-MER and cognition than PPD and cognition, and their previous recommendations for counselors have worked out poorly. At this point it's just something to put up with. Between this and the lipase problem, though, I'm starting to wonder whether I'm actually (physically) cut out for motherhood.
I started with the Internet, of course, and came upon something right away: D-MER, Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex. As far as I can tell, this is exactly what I've got. Essentially, the milk ejection reflex (which happens a short time into a nursing session and makes the milk actually flow rather than being sucked out) is coupled with a bigger-than-it-ought-to-be drop in dopamine levels, which causes various negative feelings until they level out again, which takes a few minutes. A couple of sites I read regarding it say that simply knowing that it's physiologically caused can help, and I've been finding that that's true. Now I get Maia settled, start feeling lousy, and then remember that it's because we just started nursing, and I'm usually okay. Sometimes I persist in feeling lousy, but it's gotten a lot better.
I mentioned it to Heather at the midwives' at my six-week checkup, wondering whether (a) they'd heard of it and (b) they had any other suggestions. She'd never heard of it. She was concerned, because we'd already discussed my increased risk of PPD ("If you think it's coming on again, we want to treat it pretty aggressively, because that works out better for women than if you don't fix it the first time") and wanted to know if I just wanted to go right back on an antidepressant, which I didn't. She promised to look it up and check with a couple of lactation specialists to get any advice they might have. A few days later she called (well, had a nurse call) and suggested counseling, because "a pill won't help; you can't take on every time you breastfeed." (I bet I could, but they'd have to make the pill first.)
I don't think this will help, so I'm not going; I'm doing okay now, there's a much more tenuous link between D-MER and cognition than PPD and cognition, and their previous recommendations for counselors have worked out poorly. At this point it's just something to put up with. Between this and the lipase problem, though, I'm starting to wonder whether I'm actually (physically) cut out for motherhood.
Friday, July 1, 2011
On clothes
It's a household of girls, we're interested in clothes, right? Maia doesn't care much yet, except that she seemed to violently object to my pajamas this morning. She's had very little spit-up so far, but she made up for it today in one huge vomit that got her left side, my right side, and one of the rocker's arms. She seemed quite happy both before and after, but I was less than pleased, especially since it meant hopping into the shower when I was supposed to leave in ten minutes. This is why I don't put on my work clothes until just before I leave in the morning.
Chloë, on the other hand, gets ever more opinionated about her clothes. Her Big Sister shirt (but the one without the stain on it; oh, no, we can't wear a shirt with a stain on it--which is an extremely unfortunate attitude in a toddler, especially one whose favorite dinner is pasta) and her bee shirt are her favorites, and she'll ask after them for days after they've been worn and put in the wash. I've been trying to get her in dresses once in a while, and she'll sometimes allow me to put them on her, but then she insists on getting out of them again. Mom recently sent a couple with sparkly bits on them, and since Chloë adores "parky" on her clothes, we may have better success with those.
And as for me: Hooray, I'm wearing jeans for the first time in nearly a year! Well, I had maternity jeans, but that's not the same. These are the stretchy ones and they're tighter than usual, but still: I can wear jeans for Casual Friday again!
Chloë, on the other hand, gets ever more opinionated about her clothes. Her Big Sister shirt (but the one without the stain on it; oh, no, we can't wear a shirt with a stain on it--which is an extremely unfortunate attitude in a toddler, especially one whose favorite dinner is pasta) and her bee shirt are her favorites, and she'll ask after them for days after they've been worn and put in the wash. I've been trying to get her in dresses once in a while, and she'll sometimes allow me to put them on her, but then she insists on getting out of them again. Mom recently sent a couple with sparkly bits on them, and since Chloë adores "parky" on her clothes, we may have better success with those.
And as for me: Hooray, I'm wearing jeans for the first time in nearly a year! Well, I had maternity jeans, but that's not the same. These are the stretchy ones and they're tighter than usual, but still: I can wear jeans for Casual Friday again!
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