P.S., LG

A few things I'd like to add to my Letter to LG at 18 Months:

You also say uh-oh, all done, I see you, and the week before Father's Day, you said I love you to your daddy when he picked you up from daycare. I think you may have said it to me yesterday.

You have sixteen teeth. Yikes!

Another of your favorite toys is a fridge farm; there are magnetized, interchangable front and rear ends of farm animals that go on a barn--it makes a lot of noise, and I think your mommy might remember some of it's songs and sayings forever ("A horse pig? That's silly!"). One of the things you like do with the animal pieces is put them in these little fabric  slits on our baby gate. Your newest hiding place for them is the bottom shelf on the door inside the refrigerator; you also like putting wooden play food pieces in the drawer beneath the oven. I love finding your little treasures in unexpected places.

This morning when I was driving you to daycare, I was watching you smile and talk in the mirror on my visor, and I was thinking about what a joyous child you are. Like anyone, there are times when you're hangry, tired, or sick, and there are other times when you're just in a more quiet and contemplative mood, but most of the time your happiness shines. At this point in your life, I honestly don't believe there's a grain of malice in you, though there is definitely some mischief and a sliver of defiance. 

 Your father was to pick you up early from daycare today to take you to your 18-month well-child appointment. When he arrived, you were sitting in your teacher's lap and she had an ice pack on your cheek. You had been bitten. Again. For the third time in as many weeks. The first week you were bitten on your left shoulder blade, and apparently the same child bit two other children that day. Last week you were bitten above your left wrist; when I was picking you up, another mom was also signing an incident report because her little girl had been bitten in the same spot, to which I made some jokes about this being a serial biter. And then today you were bitten on your left cheek. If the same child bit you all three times, they definitely like the left side (serial biter!).

A few things. I'm told that biting is a very common occurrence at this age, because children's verbal communication skills are not well developed; children seem to know that their mouth is what they're supposed to use to communicate but don't quite know how to do it, and so emotions and frustrations are often expressed through biting. Your daycare communicates these incidents to both the biter's and bitee's families--though the identity of the biter is protected--and I am thankful for that. I don't have any hard feelings toward your daycare or the biter/biter's parents; it could just as easily be my child that is biting (or pinching, hitting, insert any other aggressive physical behavior) other people's children (and it may one day be, though I hope not).

I was concerned about the first few bites. I consider myself to be a pretty laid back and level-headed mother. I don't coddle you, and I don't worry needlessly about your safety. The only time I ever really worried that something might be wrong was the first time you slept through the night, but I sure as heck wasn't going to go check on you and interrupt such a momentous occasion. 

But I am upset about today's bite. I want you to know that I actually cried when I got off of the phone with your father this afternoon. I mean, this child bit your face. Your beautiful face. You soft, smooth skin that I look upon every night in the dusk light as I rock you to sleep, is now interrupted by red teethmarks (that will likely turn several different colors during the next few weeks as it heals). To me, the location of this bite seems so much more intentional and severe. I asked your father how you were reacting after he'd picked you up; he said it was obvious you had been crying before he arrived, that you started crying again when you saw him, and on the way to and at the doctor's you seemed... melancholy. 

As your mother, that is what I worry about; that someone or something will bring down your joyous spirit, and it will change you. I know I can't protect you from life or hardship or pain, and in fact, I look forward you to seeing you deal with what life gives you and hopefully grow out of those experiences (and hopefully grow in your relationship with Christ, your family and find your true friends as a result). But it's still hard.

 Well, that's enough of that. You and I both have some time off of work/daycare coming up that is much needed and looked forward to. You basically have four more days in the transitional toddler classroom before you move up to the toddler classroom, and I am told that you will not be in the same class as the biter.

Here are the stats from your 18-month well-child appointment today:
- Weight: 27lbs, 6oz ~75th percentile (I think you've actually lost some weight...)
- Height: 32.5" ~60th percentile
- Head circumference: 19" ~don't know what percentile that is, but you've definitely grown into your head.
And you do not need any more shots until you are four years old.

Much love,
Mommy 

A letter to LG at 18 months

Dear LG,

Today, you are eighteen months old. One and a half years you've been in my arms. I can and can't believe it; it seems like a long time when I think back through all of the little phases you've grown through, but then, when we're living through each phase, the days go by quickly. One example: I pumped three times a day at work from the time I went back when you were two months old until you were a year old. For ten months I arrived at work at 7:30am and stayed until 5pm, and I never once left the building during the day. Some days I would also pump at home, because it never seemed like I was making enough milk for you, and then I'd have to clean all of the bottles and pump parts. Looking back, all of that work, every day, seems so grueling and confining. But at the time, I didn't question or even really think about it, I just did it. I nursed you for the last time about two months ago, which I still feel kind of sad about sometimes.

So here's a little snapshot of your daily life right now. Mommy wakes up before you and gets ready. Usually, you sleep, or at least lay in your crib, until I'm ready to get you up. Sometimes I can hear your talking to yourself in your own language. When I come in your room, say good morning and turn on the light, you sit up and laugh, like you've been waiting very patiently for this moment. A lot of times you'll stand up, laugh some more, and stamp your feet and shuffle from one side of the crib to the other. It's adorable. 

We get you dressed and take you to daycare. You are in the transitional toddler classroom, and your teachers are Miss Amanda and Miss Jen. Your best friends there are Jude and Liam, who you've been with since you started at this daycare at eight months. We are so lucky that a daycare like this exists, is close to our home, and is affordable (as far as daycare goes!); it truly is a blessing to our family. Last month, every single child in your classroom got Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease--except for you. I attribute your superior immune response to the sixteen months of breastmilk you received. Anyways, when I come to pick you up from daycare after work, your teacher is pushing you (and as many as five of your friends) through the halls in this really big wagon. Miss Amanda says, "I see someone's mommy," and each of your little heads swivel in my direction. I love the look of recognition on your face when you realize it's your turn, that it's your mommy. 

When we get home from daycare and Mommy starts dinner, it is the most challenging part of our day. I saw something on Pinterest that defined the word "hangry" as "a state of anger and irritability resulting from being hungry." And boy, are you hangry when I'm getting dinner ready. You are at my feet, whining and crying. Sometimes I give you goldfish crackers or veggie straws to snack on, but as soon as they are gone, the whining and crying ensues, and then I run the risk of ruining your dinner. Tonight I gave you the Jiffy mix box, a muffin wrapper, an egg carton, and an empty milk jug as I was making dinner, and it kept you pretty well distracted. However, you still didn't eat much for dinner, which is something that's been happening more frequently, but I'd still say you are a good eater. Your favorite foods are yogurt and sweet potatoes, and you love to dip things in ranch dressing. You are pretty handy with a spoon.

After dinner, we either go outside and you help Mommy water the garden, or we play in the living room. You take a bath every other night. I have been trying to teach you not to run on the bathroom tile, wet or not, but you've slipped twice. Both times you were naked; the first time you fell flat on your face and the second time your feet went out from under you--first your butt landed, and then your head. I felt bad, but I couldn't help but laugh. Sorry, buddy. 

Once you're in your jammies (cotton 2-piece or just a onesie), we turn on your projector and all kinds of animals rotate around the ceiling. We talk about all of the animals we see (you usually roar for the lion), Mommy says a short prayer, and then I rock you to sleep. And that's a typical weekday for us.

Your personality, mannerisms, and speech are really developing, and are adorable. Right now, you say Dada, Mama, Grandpa, Nana, dog, baba (for pacifier or a bottle, as in a bottle of ranch dressing), ball, wawa, and all kinds of other indecipherable chatterings, babbles, and ramblings. You make the best faces, especially at the dinner table. Recently we were out to dinner with your Nana and Grandpa; we were talking to you about something you shouldn't do or didn't want, and you shook your head no. I thought this was funny, so I laughed and covered my mouth, and then you covered your mouth (I never realized I did that; it's funny the things you don't realize you do until you see your children do them). I guess you had to be there, but it was cute. You love to give me open mouthed kisses right on my mouth. You will usually give them to me when I ask for them, and sometimes you will randomly take my face in both of your hands and give me a smooch. I am trying to soak all of this love up while I can. 

You are starting to get excited about toys. About two months ago we were working at your great-Nana's house, and Grandpa told you that he found something for you around the end of the couch. When you saw a pair of matchbox-size cars sitting there, your face lit up, you pointed at them and made a noise that was a cross between a grunt and a squeal, as if to say, "Me? Those are for me?" At the last birthday party we attended, you were very interested in your friend's new gifts, especially his Cozy Coupe. Your favorite toys are a set of wooden food that is held together by velcro, and any type of car or truck. Though Mommy can understand how parents want to buy things for their children to get the sort of reaction described above and also help them develop new skills, we are purposely trying not to buy you a lot of toys in hopes that only receiving toys on special or rare occasions will help you be grateful and imaginative with the toys you have and the toys you receive (for any readers here, The Power of Play by David Elkind has some really interesting ideas about play, toys, and learning).

I am happy to see that you enjoy spending time outside while your father and I tend to the yard, grill, and just hang out. Part of the time you keep yourself busy with the playhouse, lawnmower, and swing we received as hand-me-downs. The rest of your time is spent dragging around the watering can or the basket I put my weeding in, which reminds me a lot of your Uncle BZ when he was a little boy. You love playing with water (last week you were following your father around like Frankenstein trying to play in the water coming out of the watering can) but not in water. I placed you knee high in your kiddie pool last week, and you started screaming. You've also started screaming when I've put you barefoot on the grass, sand, and concrete, and also at the sound of the hose sprayer filling up the watering can. 

 

We went to the Detroit Zoo together for the first time earlier this month. It was an employee appreciation event through my work, so our admission, parking, a meal, and some rides were free; however, it ended up being one of the hottest days of the year. You were a trooper. People kept asking me, "Is he always this good?" to which I answered, "Yes, as long as he's not hungry or overtired"--thus why we ate first when we got to the zoo :)

With the weather so hot, not many of the animals were active, but you definitely noticed the giraffes and kangaroos, and started cracking up when a seal swam by the glass in the Polar Passage in the Arctic Ring of Life. You also got to ride on the back of a tortoise on the carousel, which you loved, and the train, which you really didn't think much of either way. Hopefully your daddy and I can take you back to the zoo on a weekday this fall once school has started.

Thank you for being my buddy.

Much love,
Mommy

What is wrong with me?

Well, this post was originally going to be about Father's Day; that AD was not here for us to honor him in person, but that last year we had a nice day picnicking and scouting possible campsites. I was even going include some pictures of our picnic.

But there is something else going on with me lately that I need to acknowledge in more than a passing comment to my mother or a coworker, and that is that I have no physical energy or motivation. On one side of the coin, I seem to have a lot of mental energy; that is, ideas and plans. Like, concrete ones. Things I want to do. Things that I can do because they don't cost (much) money. Things that will make my everyday life function better. 


A few examples:

- As mentioned in my first post, I am have been working on revamping some frames to display the influx of artwork that comes home with LG. I am redoing a shelf to hold his 3D creations and want to do a silhouette of his beautiful little toddler head to hang on the wall with the frames and shelf. This vignette will go on my living room wall next to my secretary, which is our drop zone for keys, mail, etc, so I have also been looking for solutions to make that zone more organized and efficient. What's standing between me and a cute wall and useful drop zone? I have to decide if I want to leave my blue frame with a satin finish or go over it with a gloss, put corkboard in the frames, glaze the oval frame and make the silhouette to go in it, put hangers on all the frames, get some fine grit sandpaper and fix a couple of spots on the shelf and then decide if I want to embellish it, and then hang everything up. For most of these tasks I have the materials ready to go, just not the motivation to seal the deal.

- I have a basement but it's not very big. Currently, the big square room is kind of broken up into zones: a holiday decoration/overflow kitchen/childhood crud/sporting goods/ETC storage area, laundry area, utility area, kitchenette/homebrew area, my desk/craft/wrapping area, and then a 5x8-ish dog pen in the middle of it all. It is kind of messy, really dirty in some areas, and definitely not child-friendly.

There are big bins stacked nearly to the ceiling in the storage area, and the idea is to clean up about a third of the basement to include the desk/craft/wrapping area, lay down some foam tiles, and stack up the bins to create a bunker, if you will, that can corral LG so tasks can be accomplished in the basement. I call this the basement bunker project.

However, my perfectionism and need to do things the "right" way is definitely slowing this project down. So far, I've torn SG's pen apart and cleaned it and the floor under it (she is cute, but she is also a disgusting creature), and moved everything out of the bunker area and scrubbed the floors. At this point, I really could just stack up the bins and throw LG in there, but I want to scrub the floor between the bunker and kitchenette area, place the bins in some orderly fashion, clean and lay the foam tiles, and bring some toys down (I just scored a wooden stove and sink for free from LG's daycare this week, which I am really excited about. AD says to just clean them up and take them down there; I was thinking there might be some sanding and sealing first...). Then there will be glorious file and craft organization, and hopefully contented playing. 


With both of these projects, I am almost to the point where I can start using them for their intended purposes, even if they aren't "finished" to my liking. The problem is that after a day of work, getting dinner ready while LG is whining at my feet, bathing and getting him to bed, taking care of the garden and yard, and doing whatever else needs to be done, I just don't have the energy or motivation to throw at these projects. So, the nights on the weekends are my time to get stuff done. But this weekend, nothing towards these projects got done. If I didn't already feel bad enough about that, AD has been complaining that the other parts of the house are dirty and cluttered. Ugh.

You can't pacify crazy

Part III: Evening, June 6, 2012
Though the climax of this particular story capped off the Day of Drama, the rising action portion of the story actually started a few months earlier, and I will provide some backstory before getting into the nitty gritty of this past Wednesday evening.

So. We moved into our (first) home about two years ago. A foreclosure in an older suburban neighborhood that needed some rehabilitation, a lot of renovation and a ton of cleaning. When we moved in, there were a total of four dogs within the five lots surrounding our backyard, including an elderly hound to the west, a boxer mix puppy to the northwest, and a dying dog and a German Shepherd mix to the northeast. And then SG, our rescued Jack Russell Terrier who is probably ten or eleven and doesn't really act like a typical Jack Russell Terrier in that she is pretty mellow. The boxer mix barked and ran a lot, and we actually planted a dozen arborvitae bushes around that portion of our yard during that first summer in our house when we were expecting LG . She's since calmed down, which is good, because all of those arborvitae bushes have not grown like we expected. The hound and the dying dog have died. 

Summer of 2011: neighbors to the north get a little ragamuffin puppy, the neighbors to the northeast get little ragamuffin puppy's sister for the same litter, and neighbors to the east get a cocka-poo. Spring of 2012: neighbors to the west take deceased sister's Yorkie. So now there are six dogs (not including SG) within the five lots surrounding our backyard. The Yorkie will yip at you whenever you're outside, but you can't hear it in our house. However, you can hear the ragamuffin puppies inside our house. ALL. THE. TIME. Since I have a dog (though she doesn't really bark) and grew up with dogs, I understand that dogs bark. But the rags were barking early in the morning and at night for extended periods of time. It was so bad that we actually spent $50 dollars for an ultrasonic anti-dog barking device, which seemed to work on the rags for a little bit. Unfortunately, it worked too well on the poor Shepherd mix and he didn't want to come out for a while :(  We were thinking about dropping an anonymous letter in the mailboxes of the rag dog owner neighbors in the middle of the night explaining how their dogs were impacting our quality of life and give some tips to minimize the barking.

But then... six am on a Tuesday morning. AD and I are both awoken by barking rag to the north; the barking goes on for a while and we are pissed. I rant about it to my poor cube neighbor at work. And then... six am on a Wednesday morning. AD and I are both awoken by barking rag to the north, again. AD goes to yell out the window at the dog to be quiet (which occasionally works) and sees lady neighbor to the north out there with the dog. AD says to her, "Hey, your dog is waking my kid up." [Okay, so, this was a lie. The dog had not woken LG up, but it had woken both of us up for the second day in a row. AD's work schedule is crazy, and he really needs his sleep when he's home. And if the dog were to wake LG up early on a weekday when AD is working, it would be very difficult for me to get everyone ready and at our respective pen/daycare/work on time.] Now, if someone were to tell me (especially at six am) that my dog had woken up their baby, the first thing out of my mouth, without hesitation, would be "I'm sorry" (I'd actually probably have a "so" in there, too). But what does lady neighbor to the north (we'll call her LNN from here on out) say? "It's not just my dog." AD says, "Well, your dog is barking right now and you need to make it stop."

A few days go by and we are not awoken by any rags. Monday evening, I go to take something over to my neighbor to the east, who I will call J-dub. J-dub and I talk, and she tells me that LNN has yelled at her twice since AD called LNN out the week before. J-dub explains that LNN and her kids really love the rag, but LNN's husband does not and LNN is afraid that he might make them get rid of the rag. J-dub also warns me that LNN is a little coo-coo, is taking AD yelling at her dog personally, and is now talking crud about us. I'll lay down a list of crud said by LNN, as reported by J-dub:
 - Other rag's owners don't like AD and I (not true, says J-dub, who is very good friends 
    with other rag's owners) 
 - LNN would never call the city on someone for dog barking (also not true, says J-dub, 
    because LNN called the city on the second-to-last owners of our house for their barking 
    dogs when her kids were little)
 - J-dub didn't like the previous owners of our house (also not true, says J-dub, and what 
   does this have to do with this?)
Nevertheless, I had thought talking to J-dub had put the situation in a different perspective; maybe LNN was not as inconsiderate as I thought, maybe she is just a little crazy and feeling desperate about losing a dog that she loves dearly. I tell AD about the convo and my thoughts. He considers. He is probably going to say something like, Hey, sorry I yelled at your dog the other morning, we were just frustrated... next time he sees LNN.

Wednesday night. I am getting LG ready for bed and AD is in the yard. A rag is barking, and LNN comes out of her house and says to AD, "Just for the record, that is not my dog barking" very snittily (that's a made up word AD and I use). AD comes inside tells me about it, and it's on. 

I try really hard to let things 'roll off my back.' In the past (like probably until I was 25 or so) I would let things bother me, and I'd spend a lot of mental and emotional energy being angry or pissed off about things that just weren't worth it. Gradually, my attitude has become 'be the bigger/better person and let it slide.' I am a big believer in God and Jesus and can give these personal grievances over to them to deal with. I am also a big believer in Karma, really just the basic idea that if put bad energy out into the world, that it's bound to come back to you at some point.
But...
I also try very hard to stand up for myself when necessary and not let people walk all over me; also something that I've let happen in the past. I think my current attitude described above kind of addresses this on the mental/emotional level, but sometimes, things have to be adjusted on a for real level with words and actions. 

So between Part I of the day's drama, knowing LNN has been talking crap bout me round the hood and now being bratty to my husband, I had had enough. I tried to steel myself as I walked into the backyard, telling myself I was going to talk to her like a rational adult. LNN was in her back yard with her back turned to me. From the fence, I said excuse me and asked if I could talk to her. I told her I wanted to talk to her about the other morning.

And then the craziness started. From the moment she turned around, she had this pointy look on her face, and her voice and words were so incredibly b*tchy (sorry, I've been trying not to swear, but to not use the word to describe her attitude is just being dishonest), snide, snotty... I honestly wanted to either punch or strangle her--I can't remember wanting to do this at any other point in my life. I actually told her that I just wanted to talk to her about the dog barking issue, and to get rid of the attitude. I'm not going to go through the whole play by play, since I know that this post is already very long and I've probably lost any reader paragraphs ago. So I'll lay down a list of crazy:

Statements made by LNN:
- Since the time they introduced themselves to us, we "flipped them off" (My response 
   [paraphrased, slightly sarcastically]: Um, do you know what kind of work we've done to 
   this house since we bought it? That, and had a kid and got a new job. I'm sorry we don't 
   have a ton of time to be making besties with everyone on the block)
- That we are unfairly discriminating and picking on her and her dog (Sorry, we would yell 
   at anyone whose dog woke us up continually at six am in the morning)
- We wouldn't yell at the other rag because that family is good friends with J-dub's family 
   (We would yell at other rag or J-dub if their dogs were barking at six am in the morning. 
   [my voice was raised and waivering and my eyes were tearing up at this point; God, why 
   did I let this woman get me so upset?] My husband is a pilot. He gets little rest when he's 
   out of town flying, and needs to catch up on sleep when he's home. Do you want a pilot 
   who's gone like a week without any decent rest to fly you around? When he's not home, I 
   have to take care of my son, our dog, our house all by myself [oh and work full time, too]. I 
   need my sleep, and I depend on my son being able to sleep as well)
- That she believes dogs don't belong in the home or a neighborhood setting [Didn't say this, 
   but, why the heck did you get a dog then?]
- That her dog barks because of the squirrels in our tree [At this point, I was just trying to 
   get her to shut up so I could get away]
- That I need to run the vacuum around LG so that he gets used to noise [Really? Now 
   you're giving me parenting advice? a. LG hears plenty of noise around our house, b. I 
   think I'm doing just fine at parenting, and c. why would I take your advice when I don't 
   like you, and now I don't even respect you?]

J-dub says LNN often realizes that she's a little crazy and then tries to right things, which I believe is why all of the musing about dogs and parenting started. Anyways, I told her I was glad we talked and I needed to go back inside. But now I'm thinking, do I have to smile and wave and talk to you now? There was drinking of wine straight from the bottle and recounting of the encounter to AD and J-dub that evening.

I hate to tell you that the drama didn't end there this week, though there has been no more drama with LNN since then. However, tomorrow starts a whole new week, and my hope is for a lot of falling action.



[The title of this song is very similar to the name of my neighborhood]

Some days, drama finds you

Today. A drama in three parts.

Part I: Morning

Yesterday I asked a client a question outside of my jurisdiction. Should have known better, but to me, the opportunity to help a customer (and I work in benefits, so we're talking about life, death, health, and money) overshadows self-preservation. I've always been that way; always will be. Client didn't seem to care; got chucked under the bus by a coworker and reprimanded by my supervisor. Sucks.

Part II: Early Evening

After dinner, husband and I took LG to a playground in a park. When we got there, there were four or five families there. As we played, families started leaving, until it was just the three of us, a dad and his son (~3 years old), and a little boy (~5 years old).

I don't know how to best explain this little boy. It's like he just appeared on the playground and started interacting with the young boys and the adults as if we were family friends or neighbors. It quickly became obvious that this little boy was in need of some quality attention and care from an adult. I was under a playscape trying to play peek-a-boo with LG, and the boy came up beside me, quite close in fact, and started telling me that I was in his pop stand. He then followed the Other Dad and his son to different playscape; Other Dad was helping his son climb up to a slide, and the boy nonchalantly slid in after the son for help getting up to the slide as well. It was like this little boy just needed to sit on someone's lap, or be hugged, or just be listened to.

AD, LG and I walked over by a lake and were ready to start heading home. We needed to walk past the playground to get to the car; AD and I felt uncomfortable about the little boy. It was getting late. Where were his parents? At the playground, we talked with Other Dad, and all three of us adults asked the little boy where his parents were. We got three different answers: 1) my dad lives over there (points to lake), 2) I sleep under there (points to playscape) and 3) my dad's in a car over there. There was a man sitting in one of the cars in the parking lot; we adults considered going over and talking to him, but what if he told us he was the boy's dad but wasn't and then took him after we left? We asked the boy to go check in with his dad, and he said his daddy didn't want him. After a few more minutes standing around, I volunteered to check with the man in the car, and as I approach the man gets out of his car. I ask him if the boy is his and he says yes, that it's time for them to get going, and can I tell the boy? I tell the little boy to go to his dad, but he still doesn't want to go. 

At that point, AD, LG and I left. And I called the police. Everything was probably legit, but something about the situation just seemed weird. It's probably overstepping my bounds (again... see Part I), but I just can't bear to think of anything bad happening to that little boy. At the very least, it'll teach the man (dad?) to at least sit with the boy (son?) while he plays.

Well, it's getting late, so I'm breaking for intermission.

After the break, please find your seat for the third and final Part of the drama: "You Can't Pacify Crazy."