Fourteen Months

Another month has gone by in what seemed like the blink of an eye.  Punky is fourteen months old today.

This month she made the transition to only one nap a day; it's been weeks since she taken two.  She initiated the change and has done well with it.  Depending on how early she rises in the morning, that one nap can last anywhere from one to three hours. 

Just this week she decided she needs a bed pillow in her crib for nap time.  She seems to be okay with it during her nap, but I'm not ready to let her have it all night long.  It's bad enough I have to get up several times a night to unravel the blanket turban she makes around her head.  I don't need another possible suffocation risk to worry about now. 

After some more nap time pillow practice, I'll let her have it at night.  It may actually help break her bad habit of rolling all around the crib and banging her head off the rails...as well as wrapping her head in the blanket.  Maybe if she is comfy with her head on the pillow, she'll stay in one place. 

I need to transition her to a bed in the next four months.  We borrowed my sister's crib for Punky and she'll need it back for the new baby come summer.  I've been worrying about the upcoming transition because of how much she moves around in her sleep.  I was envisioning needing multiple bed rails to completely enclose the perimeter and keep her from hitting the floor.  If a pillow helps her learn to stay still while she sleeps, it will take care of my bed concerns.

This month was apparently brought to us by the letter P.  Up, apple, and paper top the list of Punky's expanding vocabulary these days.  And I can't forget cuppa cuppa cuppa...  She also says sock, which sounds more like ock, and hair, which sounds more like air... but we know what she means. 

Her energy is endless.  Who needs to walk when you can run, run, run?  Those little legs go a mile a minute as she darts from room to room.  I am looking forward to spring so she can run around in the yard.  If she gets over her fear of grass that is...

The current count is now six teeth.  The other top center one and the one next to it both broke through in the last few days.  Brushing them has become such a chore lately.  She still loves it and runs right to the bathroom as soon as I even hint at it.  And she still likes the part she does all by herself.  The problem arises when mama needs to make sure her teeth are clean. 

The top ones are new so she hasn't quite figured out how to protect them yet, but she covers the bottom ones with her tongue and it's a fight to get under it.  I feel like I'm brushing her tongue raw just trying to get a swipe at those teeth.  I make the typical faces to get her to bare the pearly whites and she cooperatively copies me...but only for a split second.  Not long enough for me to get the teeth.  I hope this phase passes quickly or she'll have her first cavity before she's even tasted any candy.

Speaking of which, the Easter Bunny is a bit stumped on what to bring her this year.  No candy... she is still too little and far too energized as it is... with no sugar added.  And mama certainly doesn't need chocolate in the house just begging to be eaten.  Last year she got a basket full of baby food.  I think we need something a bit more exciting this year but have no clue what to stuff in there.  I guess the bunny will figure it out eventually.

Her favorite things these days include looking at photo albums over and over and pointing to the people/objects she recognizes.  The ball fascination is still going strong.  Roughhousing on the living room floor with a mound of pillows has become a daily occurrence.  Mama's teaching her the basic skills needed for a good pillow fight, and she loves every minute of it.  She still loves her books, and her bears, and her Wonder Pets, and her baby dolls.  I am itching to put the doll house together that we got for her birthday but I seriously need to start weeding out some of her toys before we open new ones. 

Of course her most favorite thing of all is still that bed time ba-ba.  I know the doc said "off the bottle completely by fifteen months..."  We are almost out of time and I still have no clue how to go about accomplishing it.  All the others disappeared with no problem, but this one she cries for every night.  When the switch flips and she decides she's tired, that's all she wants.  Nothing else appeases her.  I think we're going to end up going cold turkey... which may mean a baby screaming for hours before falling asleep.  It's going to be rough for her, and my heart will ache with every little tear she sheds.

She celebrated her fourteen-month birthday today by learning a new trick: she can get up on the couch... completely unassisted by anyone or anything.  This prompted a sudden re-arrangement of the living room furniture.  I had visions of her going right over the back of the couch and through the front window, so the couch is now securely placed against a solid wall.  

After telling her to get down about a hundred times this afternoon, and her running right back to climb up again after being told no over and over, she also earned her first ever time-out.  This is going to be a long couple of weeks until the newness of this skill wears off and she stops running for it at every opportunity.  Now I just need to keep my eyes glued to her until then and pray for no broken bones when she takes the inevitable tumble from couch to carpet.

Favorite Things Friday: Mint Lip Balm

I know I mentioned this addiction before and it resides near the top of my list of favorite things.  Interestingly enough, just last week the question of the day on Ask.com was whether or not you can truly be addicted to lip balm.  All the scientific evidence says no; I beg to differ.

The winter I was eight years old started me on the road to addiction and there's been no turning back...

That winter my lips were chapped.  I'm not talking a little chapped.  I mean severe chappage, if you will.  Swollen, dried, cracked, bloody, burning lumps of mangled flesh.  It hurt to talk.  Eating was pure misery.  Smiling was not possible.  Kids at school were ruthless.

I remember my mom gave me some cherry and orange chapstick to combat the problem.  No matter how much of that crap I caked on, my lips were still on fire.  I needed relief.  I needed something to cool the burn.

Somehow I managed to get my hands on the mint variety of chapstick.  Ahh... something was different about the mint.  It tingled.  And cooled the burning sensation.  I re-applied it every time it wore off and my lips began to heal.  They returned to nomal size.  The cracks closed up.  The burning stopped.  I could eat, smile, laugh...and the kids at school quickly forgot the mess I'd been prior to my mint chapstick revelation.

I vowed to never have a repeat of that episode.  My mint chapstick became a routine part of my daily life.  Get out of bed in the morning, apply chapstick.  Brush teeth, apply chapstick.  After a meal, apply chapstick.  Heading outside in the winter wind or the summer sun, apply chapstick.  Any time my lips feel the slightest bit dry, apply chapstick.

In my teens I graduated to mint blistex.  It was much less waxy than the chapstick kind but still had the awesome medicated tingle and cool sensation.  And it felt more grown up somehow.

By the time I graduated college and entered the official real world, I once again changed my preferred choice for minty relief.  I moved on to Natural Ice. It is smoother and lighter on my lips than blistex.  And has SPF 15.  And the same cool tingle.  It's still my choice today and I have no plans on changing unless they stop making it.

The issue I found through the years with all of the mint sticks is the difficulty in finding them in the stores.  I don't know why it is the least popluar flavor and not even carried at all by many drug stores and retailers.  In today's internet world it's not as big a deal; I simply order a box online any time my supply is getting low.  Okay... two boxes... to qualify for free shipping, of course...

We are smack-dab in the middle of another freezing winter. I encourage everyone to feel the tingle and soothe the burn.  Get some mint lip balm.  It's good stuff.  I'd be miserable without it.

But be careful.  Addiction may occur without warning.

Heavenly Birthday

Granny would have been ninety today.  

She was the strongest, toughest, most brutally honest woman I have ever known.  She told it like it was; beating around the bush simply wasn't her style.

She was energetic and always on the go.  She never learned to drive yet she was rarely at home.

She ate half a grapefruit and a piece of buttered toast for breakfast each morning.  She made the best halupki on the planet.

She loved little blonde yappy chihuahuas.

She loved polka music.

She loved the color purple.

She was one of a kind.

I named Punky after Granny and so far the shoe fits.  She's one tough little cookie.

Happy heavenly birthday, Granny.  You are so very missed.

Attached at the Hip

Lately Punky is super clingy... to me alone ... and nobody else will do.  I don't know what to make of it. 

Nothing has changed in her world.  She hasn't been sick, her daily routine remains the same, we haven't introduced any new scary things... but suddenly the minute I leave her sight she cries and whines until I come back.  If I'm not home she does get over it fairly quickly, but if she knows I'm in the house she's relentless.  I don't get it.

Twice this weekend her dad tried to feed her while I did a few things around the house.  She cried and whined through the entire meal both times.  After every spoonful she called for me in the most heart-wrenching tone I've ever heard.  Was the food yucky?  Was it too hot?  Was she not hungry yet?  She was so upset and pitiful.  Real tears running down her beautiful little face...

As soon as I finished what I needed to do, I took over for the last few bites and she was fine.  She finished eating and went back to playing like nothing ever happened.  As long as I stayed in sight... any sudden disappearance on my part caused a repeat episode.

It's not like she is starving for my attention and interaction; she gets plenty of that and she does play so nicely by herself as long as she can see me.  Maybe it's just a resurgence of separation anxiety and it will pass in time. 

Leaving for work in the morning is excruciating if she's awake.  Her dad tries to keep her busy, even if it's just a diaper change, to give me enough time to leave without her actually seeing me go.  It has always been painful to leave her, but lately I've been walking out the door with tears in my eyes as I hear her wailing and calling for me over and over.  In that moment I feel like I'm abandoning her.  My baby needs me...

Although it's a tough phase she's going through, I don't have it in me to complain.  She'll be over it soon enough and there are many mothers who would jump at the chance to experience it.

In bouncing around the blog world, I've discovered several dedicated to terminally ill beautiful little babies.  Babies Punky's age that are fighting for their lives and losing the battle.  I read.  I cry.  I dream of these precious little angels.  My heart aches for the families.  I cry some more.  I can't even begin to grasp the extent of their pain.

And no matter how upset I get, I can't stop reading and hoping for miracles.  It keeps in perspective just how lucky and blessed I am to have my little girl.  It keeps me from taking anything for granted.  It makes me cherish the occasional sleepless night.  It helps me smile through the tantrums and laugh at the messes.  It reminds me to enjoy every second with my monkey of a toddler. 

Sometimes I get angry.  Sometimes I get frustrated.  Sometimes I need a break.  Motherhood isn't all roses.  If you stop to smell the ones that exist, it helps you overlook the bare stems in the bouquet.

So Much for Kissing Cousins

My sister came up to visit this weekend and the kids didn't play together anywhere near as nicely as the weekend before.  That weekend must've been just a fluke because they were right back to pushing, shoving, yelling, taking things from one another, not sharing... sigh.  As unfair as it may be, my nephew gets most of the blame simply cause he's older and should know better... but Punky had her fair share of not-so-angellic moments.

And I suddenly felt like my mother as I spouted some classic mom-isms without any thought or hesitation.

"If you can't share and play nice with that toy, I'm taking it and neither of you can play with it!"

"Give me that!  You're gonna poke your eye out with that thing!" 

"You're gonna get hurt! Settle down before you fall and bust your face!"

"No shoving your little cousin!"

"No hitting your big cousin!"

"No yelling!"

"No pulling more toys out until you clean up some of these!"

"Put that down! It's not a toy!"

"Leave the bedroom door open!"

"Get down now! No jumping on the bed!"

They were jumping on the little cot in Punky's room.  I know she can climb up on it herself, but only if the mattress is pushed back and the bed isn't made so she can get her little knee up on the frame.  That wasn't the case so I think some little boy I know had a definite hand it getting her tiny hiney up there.  Thankfully they got caught before anyone fell off and broke something important... like a face, arm, leg...

After they left yesterday and silence was restored, Punky was exhausted a ready for a nap.  While we rocked, I thought about how different the dynamic is in the house when there is more than one kid. 

If I had another, I would have years ahead of me exactly like this weekend.  And I'm not just talking bad behavior and discipline, but more about how hard it is to divide your time with two battling for your attention.  I know, moms everywhere do it with much more than two, but part of me feels like I would be neglecting Punky and I never want her to feel that way.  I don't see it ever being an issue for us anyway; as of now we have decided not to have any more... as much as I'd love to experience it all again... 

But it will be an issue for my sister.  Shortly.  She is twenty six weeks pregnant and my neice will arrive via planned induction (due to medical reasons) in the third week of May.  Yeah, that's right, I said neice.  A few months ago I mentioned I was going to have a new neice or nephew come spring, but I never followed up with which it would be...

Favorite Things Friday: Nose Strips

The time I spend commuting gives me the opportunity to think.  My mind is free to bounce from idea to idea... problem to problem... memory to memory. It's my time to unwind, regroup, sort my emotions, reflect on the past, plan for the future...

While driving this week, I got to thinking about all the little things in life I wouldn't want to do without.  I'm talking simple things...my awful head cold didn't allow for any in-depth analysis of complex subject matter.

There are so many everyday things that make my life easier.  Better.  Happier.  Common products in this modern age that I take for granted but would surely miss if they were to disappear.  If I ever get stranded on a deserted island...

In a few short moments, I created quite the list in my head... which in turn led to this idea.  On Fridays I plan to post a favorite thing that fits this category.  I can't promise every Friday but I'll give it my best shot.  Any product or service I write about is something I truly use and would recommend to others.  I am not being compensated in any way for expressing these opinions.  I am simply sharing things I like and wouldn't want to live without.

So, given my head cold from hell this week, it's only appropriate to start with Breathe Right nose strips.  I use these faithfully every night.  I'll happily look like a dork if it means actually falling asleep.

With all my allergies, I have at least one nostril blocked at all times.  Falling asleep was such a struggle most nights when I couldn't breathe through my nose.  I'd position myself on my side with one hand wedged under my face in an attempt to stretch open a nasal passage so I could breathe.  I was never able to fall asleep with my mouth open so that wasn't an option either.  Sometimes hours would pass before I'd fall asleep. 

A few years ago I saw the commercial and tried these sticky little things.  I honestly didn't expect them to work.  The whole idea seemed ridiculous to me...like a sticky little tab was going to stay in place on my face all night long, without making my nose itchy, and actually help me breathe.  Yeah, right.

To my utter amazement, they do.  All of the above.  I can breathe through my nose and drift off to sleep in a matter of minutes rather than hours...aside from the occasional bout of insomnia here and there.  They stay put while sleeping and are easily removed come morning. 

Honestly, I think they are a bit expensive and they do leave a gooey, gluey residue on your face after removal.  For me it is money well spent on a good night's sleep and the goo is gone with soap and water. 

Look out Bruce Johnson.  If we ever meet, you're getting one hell of a kiss.

The Week in Review

My birthday turned out to be a very nice day, complete with a dozen roses delivered to me at work and a surprise dinner date that evening.  We hadn't gone out to dinner alone since June, and this time we even managed to sneak in a short, romantic encounter at night's end.  That's a rarity these days.

President's Day was a paid holiday for me, so Punky and I took the opportunity to go home for the weekend since we hadn't been since Christmas.  I spent some time getting my tax stuff ready and Punky had fun playing with her cousin Landon.  And how nice they played together...

My nephew wasn't all too impressed with his cousin in the past, but either he's accepted the fact that she's here to stay or maybe he just likes her better now that she does stuff other than taking his toys and licking them.  She snuck one in here and there, I saw her.  Anyway, he actually hugged her, kissed her, and even told her he loves her before we left to come home on Monday.  He shared his toys, even his big red car.  What a sweet four year old he can be...when the mood strikes him.

As I left my mom's house on Monday, my nose was running.  Nothing new.  She has a dog and I'm highly allergic.  When it continued to run constantly the entire drive home, I knew it was more than allergies.  I was sick.  And it was going to get worse before it got better.

By the time we got home, I had used every restaurant napkin I had stuffed in my console and glove box and my nose was already sore from blowing and rubbing.  The low fever, dull headache, and chills weren't far behind.  Dammit. 

After barely sleeping a wink, I made the drive to work Tuesday but soon realized I wouldn't be there for long.  I felt awful, but at the same time I hate missing work.  It feels so...irresponsible.  Nevertheless, I was home by eleven.

The rest of the day, aside from Punky's miraculous three hour afternoon nap, was rough.  Having a toddler that won't let you sit for a second is absolutely no fun for a sick mama.  I actually burst into tears in the evening when she pulled me from the couch for the hundredth time because she wanted something she wasn't allowed to have in the first place.  He was third shift this week so he slept through the day, but when he got up I was able to grab a much needed forty-five minute nap before he had to get ready for work.

Wednesday went almost exactly the same except I made it till noon at work.  By late evening I was starting to feel a bit better and I knew the worst of it was over.  Good thing since I almost depleted all the tissue boxes in the house and my nose reached the beautiful shade of fire engine red.  Today I worked all day.  Finally accomplished something this week.

I hardly ever get sick.  Thanks to my allergies to everything under the sun, my immune system is always running on high.  When I do get sick, I am not good at it.  Not one bit.  Pain I can handle; a head cold makes me miserable.

Thankfully Punky hasn't shown any signs of catching it.  Tuesday night she ended up in bed with me for about three hours and I thought for sure it would seal the deal.  We have been so lucky thus far.  If and when she ends up it traditional daycare, we are completely screwed.  She hasn't been exposed to all the crap germy little kids spread around...poor thing will probably be sick for months with one thing after another.

And I almost forgot, two more teeth showed up while we were home this weekend.  One top center one, and one off to the side but also on the top.  So at almost fourteen months, the grand count is now four teeth.  She had been a bit cranky a few days prior but certainly not unreasonable.  I was surprised to see the new teeth.  It happens so infrequently I forget they're coming.

I hope the ball keeps rolling and more are soon to follow.  It is really a challenge feeding her now.  She wants our food, no matter we're having, but most of it she can't have.  With only two bottom teeth, she was limited on what she could handle chewing.  Mealtime will be much easier when she has enough choppers to share what we cook.  Okay, okay...what he cooks.

Reflections on Thirty-Six

At thirty-six, I learned that my job...is a job. I returned to work from maternity leave about two weeks after my birthday last year. Instantly I saw my job in a whole new light. I always took work way too seriously, no matter the employer. My job was my life. After having Punky, it fell into proper perspective.  Finally.

At thirty-six, I figured out how to hold a baby... under one arm... for several minutes... at exactly the right angle needed to prevent additional, unnecessary squishing of diaper contents... while using my free hand/arm to finishing loading the dishwasher.  Pausing to change the diaper would mean the dishwasher wouldn't get run that night.  I'd never get back to it.

At thirty-six, I discovered that peeing alone is not an option with a mobile toddler in the house... and turning the roll to come under instead of over saves many sheets and much aggravation... even if it is the wrong way to roll.

At thirty-six, I learned that plastic kitchen utensils and bouncy balls are some of the best toys around and can amuse a child for hours.  Next baby shower I attend, I'm buying a set of spatulas and a pack of tennis balls.  Okay, I'll throw in some diapers, too.

At thirty-six, I realized I can handle this "mom" thing.  I still have tons to learn and adventures to experience, but now I know I can do it...and I'm good at it...and I love having finally found the confidence to say so and believe it.

At thirty-six, I was spit on, shit on, puked on, and peed on more times than I care to remember...and I didn't throw up once.  I can grab baby boogies and pull them out with my bare hands and not even gag at all.  My easy-queasy stomach has turned to stone in what surely qualifies as the grossest year of my life.

At thirty-six, I allowed myself to get a bit lost in my new role as mama; I now realize I need to focus more energy on my other roles in life as I embark on the next chapter.

Today is my birthday. I am thirty-seven.

Could be worse, I suppose. Could be better.

Yet it's the happiest time of my life.

Balls and Tantrums

Punky has recently mastered the art of the temper tantrum.  I never expected this behavior so early.  Isn't that typically what defines the terrible twos?  I thought I had eleven months yet, give or take...

Saturday evening she noticed her new picture in a frame on the entertainment center.  She was babbling and pointing (I swear it sounds like she is saying "That! That!") so I took it off the shelf so she could hold it.  She stared at her picture for ten seconds, flipped it over and stared at the back of the frame for ten seconds, then stuffed a corner in her mouth...the usual progression with 'new' stuff.

As you would expect, I took it from her and set it back on the shelf while telling her it's not a toy...it doesn't belong in her mouth...there is glass in the frame...she could get hurt...blah, blah, blah...

The minute I turned to walk away she let out a scream that scared me half to death.  It only took a second to realize she wasn't hurt; she was having a tantrum.  An honest to goodness full-blown temper tantrum.  The real deal.  I could hardly believe my eyes...and ears.

There she stood in front of the entertainment center, arms stretched as high and far as they would go toward the picture frame, opening and closing her little patties as if trying to grasp it in her hands, stomping her little feet for all she was worth (when did she learn how to do that?), and screaming in the highest, shrillest pitch I have ever heard emerge from my sweet little girl.  And then came the tears...real ones...

I was in shock and had no clue what I was supposed to do at that point.  I stood there dumbfounded and weighed my options.  I figured it wouldn't be wise to give in and let her have the picture.  I certainly don't want her to learn that if she screams long enough mama will fold.  I didn't think picking her up and coddling her was the right answer either.  She was expressing strong emotions and needed to get it out of her system without interference.  I didn't want to walk away though and make her feel like mama's not attentive to her needs...okay, wants...but I didn't want to draw attention to her behavior with any strong reaction on my part. 

While I was still arguing with myself over the right way to handle it, the tantrum stopped as abruptly as it started.  She turned her head to look at me and almost made me cry.  She gave me the biggest pout her little lips could muster as one final tear made its way down her tiny cheek.  I picked her up, gave her a big hug, kissed her soggy face, and told her I love her.  Then I handed her the big, red ball.  All was forgiven.  Immediately.

Since then we have had a few similar scenarios.  Once over an orange I wanted to cut up and eat (she thought it was a ball)...once over a glass apple I won't let her hold (she thinks it's also a ball)...  Everything even remotely round is a ball and she has to touch it.  She's been on a ball kick...big time.

The last few times we took Punky shopping, I put shoes on her and let her walk around the store.  I know, I'm probably creating a monster by letting her out of the damn cart so young and I'll probably never get her back in it, but it's such an opportunity for her.  Wide open spaces, tons of interesting stuff to touch, people to smile at as they comment about how little and cute she is....okay, the last one is more for mama but still...

Last trip she was walking nicely between me and Grammy when she suddenly spun 180 and started chasing a shopping cart.  We quickly saw the big, orange ball in the back of it and were surprised she even noticed it as the cart zoomed by...the kid doesn't miss a ball, geez.  We were headed to the toy department anyhow, so it was bound to happen sooner or later.

We stood her in front of a huge, metal cage full of big, bouncy balls in a rainbow of colors.  From the look on her face, you'd have thought the heavens opened up and the sun would eternally shine.  Seriously.  And the wheels were spinning trying to figure out how the hell she could get in there.

I reached in and grabbed a nice, shiny, red one and handed it to her.  She was absolutely thrilled and proudly carried it through the entire store.  She told everyone who so much as glanced her way, "Bah!" as she held it out in front of her for them to see.  She was so adorable with it and it's been her best friend ever since.  She totes it from room to room, and while she pauses to play with other toys, eventually it's right back to the big, red ball.

Thankfully it cost only one dollar; I have a feeling we'll end up with several before the ball fascination passes.  She knows there are balls in the store now.  She knows where they are.  And this child forgets nothing.

Photo Shoot

I did manage to have a photo shoot with Punky over the weekend.  After two days, two outfits, six toys, and 137 clicks, I ended up with a handful of decent shots.  I knew it would be a challenge.  The first day I couldn't get a single smile from her.  The second day brought goofy faces.  Both days she wouldn't sit still for more than two seconds at a time.  Thankfully Grammy was on hand to help.  I was able to keep clicking while she attempted to entertain...and restrain...my active little peanut.

Here are two of my favorite shots.  The first conveys her happy, easy going, adorable, angellic little self.  The second shows the handful she can be...more often than not these days.  And yes, this is the horse.  As you can see, despite dumping it several times, she still has no fear whatsoever.  One second before this click, she had one leg stretched out behind her and was posing like a figure skater...and I missed it.  Damn delay in digital camera clicking...