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May 2011
Toddler pushing (belly) buttons
At 21-months old, my daughter is like a sponge. She picks up everything.
This is great when it comes to colors, shapes or identifying people she knows.
My grandfather was pleasantly surprised when he walked into the room and she spouted off “GG!” (great-grandpa).
She knows “Boat,” “Dooda” and “Omo” (Boots, Dora and Elmo) like they are her best friends, she has mastered the word, “NO!” and orders the poor, old dog around like a miniature army sergeant.
Aside from reading her “poots” (books), her favorite thing to do though is point out body parts she knows.
She will poke the nearest victim in the eye and say, “Eeyyyyyeee!”
Give an ear a yank and say, “Eeeaaaa!”
Jab someone in the nose with a “Nooossee!”
And pull hair while saying, “Aaaiiiirr!” (painful yes, but it could be worse, her baby dolls have bald spots).
My daughter’s favorite body part is her stomach … and whoever else’s stomach (Mommy’s, Daddy’s Memaw’s, Grandpa’s, unsuspecting stranger’s) she can reveal to the world (or at least to the crowd of parents at the baseball park).
“Bewwy!” (belly) she screeches with a grin while she yanks her shirt up and stabs her finger into her belly-button.
She has no shame, no modesty - just a little frog belly she’s quite proud of.
I took her to the mall for a quick errand thinking, “She’s tired. She will take a snooze in her stroller while we walk around.”
Ha! I should know better - and I should invest in some larger size Onsies that snap.
She discretely unfastened her belt and slipped out of the stroller.
She paraded up to the first compete stranger she could find, pulled her shirt up to her armpits, poked herself in the gut and said - loud enough for everyone in the store to hear - “BEWWY!”
“Oh, yes! That’s your belly,” said the kind lady with a smile.
My daughter continued to jab her belly-button and stare at the lady for some kind of continued reaction to her wonderful tummy that no one should go without admiring.
“And, that’s your belly-button, yes. What a lovely belly-button you have,” she said.
I quickly gathered up my daughter and stuffed her back into the stroller thanking the lady for humoring my child.
“No one wants to see your belly,” I said to my squirming daughter who fought me tooth and nail to keep her shirt above her head.
“Nnnoooo! Bewwy!”
sigh
I can’t wait for the day my sons decide to teach her where her “booty” is …
Contact this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com or facebook.com/MotherhoodCTC
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TweetBullying: enough is enough. Mama Bear has to step in
“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
I’m unofficially amending this quote from play-write William Congreve to: “… nor hell a fury like a mother scorned.”
Why? Because a mother’s love is primal; this was again brought to the forefront of my heart by a child. Not my child, but a child who decided that picking on my son was something he required in his daily routine.
“STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT you spiteful brat!”
(Ahem) Excuse me while I compose myself because obviously, my own children are perfect.
Let’s be real, there is only so long a parent can let bullying go on before intervening. (Some of you will call me a “helicopter mom.” Go ahead, I can take it.)
I can’t fight - or win - all of my son’s battles for him, nor do I want to, but he should be able to attend school without being humiliated or fearful.
(Can I get an “Amen!” please?)
My instinct was to go to the school myself and … well, act like a spiteful brat. Then, like a stab to the chest, I suddenly felt empathy.
I began to wonder about the other child: Why is he acting this way? What is he seeing or hearing at home? Is he OK?
I changed my approach from “rampaging mom” to “peaceful resolution mom.”
I gave my son the opportunity to put an end to the situation himself. It didn’t work.
But, I am pleased to say, with assistance from the school staff, the situation has been absolved. For this, I am thankful.
Unfortunately though, a peaceful resolution doesn’t always pan out so quickly.
“I have a hard time, as a mom, keeping my emotions in check when it comes to my kids,” said Brooke, mom of two.
“I feel like this mama bear who wants to lash out at whoever hurts my babies.”
Brooke’s son (age 6) has been coping with bullying much of this school year. However, it did not stop even after the school staff stepped in.
Finally deciding “enough is enough” Brooke told her son, “if someone won’t stop after you tell them to lay off, you can do what you feel necessary to stop the matter.”
Not only does her son struggle with this, but Brooke and her husband do, too.
“I feel like I am failing as a mom when I see him feeling and being so helpless against kids who obviously don’t get the love and attention at home they need.”
“I know I’m raising a loving, caring kid, but I don’t think that is enough in today’s world and I don’t know how to fix that.”
Has your child been bullied at school? How did you help him/her handle the situation?
Contact this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com or facebook.com/motherhoodCTC.
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TweetMotherhood? There’s an app for that!
Need to check your bank account? There’s an “app” for that.
Want to peruse books to read? There’s an app for that.
Need parenting tips? Yep, there’s even an app for that.
Who needs good ol’ fashioned advice, encyclopedias or even Google anymore when we can access loads of information with a tap of our fingers?
I was hesitant initially, resisting the technology, but I finally gave in and frankly, I am intrigued (and having a whole lot of fun).
There are so many apps available and my kids (toddler included) have figured out how to use them - quickly; math games, reading games, lots of keep-quiet-in-the-waiting-room entertainment.
Parenting apps abound from a baby monitoring app, a nursing tracker app, even a scream-free parenting app.
My daughter is approaching potty-training age. I remember vividly the challenges - and messes - that came with training my sons, but now? There is an app for that, too!
Seriously, there is. In fact, there are several.
I stumbled upon “iDump” by mistake. I thought it was a software transfer app. Uhh, no. It’s a potty game complete with gassy kids and “practice your aim” skills.
Who thinks of this stuff?
So, iDump got me thinking about just how useful “real life” apps could be for parents. Imagine the possibilities: iLaundry, iHouseclean, iDiaper, iWipenosesandbutts …
“How about a ‘teach your kid to drive without putting your life in danger’ app?” said Angie, mom of a teenage son. “Or, a ‘know when your teenager is not telling the whole truth’ app?”
My parents acquired that app naturally on my 13th birthday (i-gadget not required).
My brother and sister-in-law have a newborn son. His mommy would like to have an iWillfeedthebabyat3a.m. and an iSleep app.
Oh, the list could go on, but some parents aren’t so sure about these apps and such.
“I’m waiting for technology to catch up to my needs,” said Sam, father of three grown children. “I just want to make phone calls.”
Contact this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com or facebook.com/MotherhoodCTC
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TweetToddler metamorphosis: from sweet to sour overnight!
… and then it happened; our sweet princess became a demanding diva.
“The metamorphosis is usually sudden, startling,” says psychologist and author, John Rosemond in his book Parenting by The Book.
“One unremarkable night parents put to bed an 18-month-old, who has been cuddly, affectionate and easygoing. The next morning when they walk into his bedroom, they are met by the Spawn of Satan, who announces that their parenting honeymoon is over.”
Uhm, yeah, pretty much right on.
With the boys, I think I expected it - they are boys, after all (no offense, fellas, but your reputations precede you).
But, with our daughter; I’m still trying to determine how the sweet-to-sour transition occurred.
While she is still a sweet-pea much of the time, she also screams - at the top of her lungs - for “tookkiiieess!!!!!” (cookies) for every meal, every day.
My aching body demands oxygen after the physical challenge of changing her diaper. She insists on feeding herself, which would be great if she could hit her mouth. She has sucked back a travel-size tube of toothpaste requiring a call to poison control; managed to get a “childproof cap” off of a bottle of dish soap I mistakenly put within reach (Mother of The Year, I am not) and escaped from her stroller - restraints and all - at the baseball park.
She pulls things out of the trash can, hates her car seat, bolts out the door to the swing set, pulls all of the clothes out of her drawers and will counter-surf to reach whatever she isn’t supposed to have. She leaves a trail of destruction in her wake that I can hardly keep up with.
And she’s fast; a lightening fast, fearless dare-devil: floor to top bunk in three seconds.
Her pediatrician even recently remarked (as she was flinging everything from the diaper bag to the floor), “I think she’s going to give her brothers a run!”
My friend’s young daughter is known for her precocious antics, too. Good to know I’m not alone in this boat.
Her little girl recently climbed onto the countertops to reach the Easter candy, cut her own hair and (warning: not for the weak of stomach) deposited what her mother thought was a glob of chocolate candy on floor.
“The toddler is a factory of antisocial behavior,” says Rosemond.
Miss Bossypants’ factory is working overtime these days - as am I.
But, this too shall pass. Until then, heaven (and Mr. Rosemond) help me … and please pass the wine.
Contact this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com or Facebook.com/MotherhoodCTC.
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Tweet“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you!”
I was blessed recently with an adorable nephew, brother only to my beautiful niece.
My family went to visit the new little guy - and pay special attention to his Big Sister.
The boys, who were very excited to meet their new cousin, lost interest after about five minutes; after all there was a new swing set in the back yard.
Our daughter, who adores her baby dolls thought just that - the newborn was a baby doll and she was going to take care of him like one (yeah, scary).
Being her second child, my sister-in-law (SIL) is pretty laid back with the baby, but so is the baby. He is content most of the time - unless he’s hungry.
He was due to be at the pediatrician’s office later that same day.
My brother and husband took on the task of watching the four other children (really scary), while my SIL and I took the baby to his appointment.
Naturally, as soon as he was buckled into his seat, he began hollering for something to eat. We were running late, so I hopped into the back seat to try to soothe him until we arrived.
The appointment went smoothly and my SIL was able to feed him a bit, but not enough.
Under doctor’s orders, we had to stop at the store to purchase a special cream for Baby’s behind. Baby was still hollering for food.
“”OK!” said my SIL handing me some money. “You run in and get the cream; I’ll jump in the back seat and feed him!”
Tensions were rising like they always do when an unhappy baby is crying.
I grabbed the money and sprinted into the store while my SIL transitioned into the back seat where the windows were tinted.
I quickly found the item for Baby and ran through the rain, back to the car.
I don’t think my SIL quite expected me yet as I rapped on the locked car window. She jolted, grabbed the door handle and threw open the door.
Enter: chaos.
The car alarm started blaring. The baby started crying. The rain came down harder. And, my now “exposed” SIL was unable to locate the key fob to turn the alarm off.
While trying to keep herself modestly covered, she searched frantically and I stood in the rain … laughing. Hysterically. I couldn’t help it.
Thankfully, she also began to laugh. So, I didn’t feel too bad about finding humor at her expense.
You’d think with five kids between us, we’d have this kind of situation mastered, but no.
Like anyone else, Moms never know events what the day will hold (other than grossness or embarrassment of some kind), but we learn to laugh about it and brace for the next.
Contact this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com or facebook.com/motherhoodCTC.
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