Six pats of butter and a little bit else

The day started out interestingly enough.  Little J demanded a waffle, and wouldn't take "five more minutes of sleep for mommy" as an answer.  Then he didn't even eat it.

Fast forward a few hours, and Little J gets his hands on an open box of "Hot Tamales," the cinnamon candy.  About the same time I realize what he is holding, I also realize he has about six (6!!) pieces in his mouth.  You could tell the exact moment the cinnamon-hotness hit his tongue.  His eyes widened with shock, and he leaned over, as if to spit it out .... the red-pink chewed up candy -- directly on to our white carpet.  Thankfully, he did actually listen when I said "not on the floor, in to the sink."  I was surprised though that after spitting it out, he came back and wanted "more candy, Mommy."

Our little family set out for a little adventure this afternoon.  Unlike most of our adventure days, we had a long list of stuff to do at home before we could even consider leaving -- and so it was after two-thirty before we hit the road.

About two hours later we ended up at Minnehaha Wildlife Refuge, where Big J is scheduled to embark on his first water fowl hunting adventure later this month.  Big J wanted to drive around, get a lay of the land in the daylight, and not at 5 am the day of the hunt.

We drove up and down, around and around -- largely on dirt roads.  While I wasn't the biggest fan of the bumpy dirt roads -- I am 31 1/2 weeks pregnant after all -- it was a beautiful fall day in western Indiana.

During our hour and a half or so checking out the wildlife area, we saw ducks, cows, horses, wild turkey and three deer.  Little J was a great passenger and I think he enjoyed checking out the new scenery as much as we did.



A few times, we also had to go through some "questionable" areas on the dirt roads.  Granted, I should just think " I have a big strong husband with me, no worries."  But at the same time, I really don't want to get my front-wheel drive vehicle stuck in the mud on a somewhat out of the way dirt road with less than an hour or two of daylight left.

As we were leaving, I snapped this picture of my car:

Trust me, it doesn't look like that venturing the suburban wilds I travel each day.

I think Little J had a good time:

We ended up at Cracker Barrel for dinner -- a traveler's paradise.  Despite the fact that we ordered Little J a perfectly kid-palatable dinner of chicken fingers and macaroni and cheese, he ate one biscuit with jelly, and six (yep, 6) packets of butter, followed by one-half of a chicken tender. 

On the one hand, it probably wasn't the healthiest dinner.  On the other though, he definitely got in some calories -- which is something I pay attention to as he grows up and up and up and doesn't gain a pound -- and Big J and I had relative peace in which to eat our own dinners -- and didn't leave feeling like we either had shoveled our own food in, in order to leave as soon as possible -- or that we had skipped eating our dinner entirely, with the same ultimate goal.

Little J fell asleep on the way home, and miraculously enough went to bed willingly and without complaint when we got home.  All in all a good day -- maybe we should do these in the afternoon more often?

(c) lessons from cooper

Get Out My Room!

Little J uttered these words to me for the first time today: "Get out my room, mommy!"

I was putting him to bed, and as I was leaving, he says it...  As much as I realize he doesn't know that the words are a little bit mean, I have to admit, they stung.  Almost as much as the first time he said "Go 'way, Mommy."

I have to wonder why certain phrases -- like the mean ones, or the bad words (crap!, crap! Crap!) stick more easily than the nice ones.  Is it the emotional energy behind the words?

And so I have to tell on myself.  There I am, rushing through morning preparations, taking the juice back to the fridge, when the lid fell off and the bottle spilled on the floor.  And, very softly, a very bad word slipped out.  Thankfully, I don't think Little J heard it -- mainly because he didn't repeat it.  And I'm pretty sure that if he had heard it, he would have repeated it, over, and over, and over again.  And then Miss Carrie would have banished him from daycare.  But that didn't happen -- because he didn't hear me.

Which just emphasizes in my head how careful I have to be about what I say when I am around him -- not just the words I use, but the tone and the language.  Because even innocent words can take on a whole new meaning with a tone.

(c) lessons from cooper

When does “no” really mean “NO”?

Little J is struggling with the word "no" these days.  Partly, because he hears it so often – no, you can't go outside in the dark without your shoes by yourself.  No, you can't have candy before dinner.  No, you can't run roughshod through the living room with an open package of hot dogs.  No, no eating tasty snacks on the floor where Cooper might get them.  No, you need to wear pants!

I realize that part of the problem is the overuse of the word no.  We use no when we mean "that's dangerous, stop!"  We also use it for "I would prefer it if you wouldn't make that mess" and for "this is not how we behave."

It is such a simple word – and yet there are many inflections and meanings and interpretations for this one little word.  No wonder the two year old has a problem distinguishing.

On top of that is the perfectly normal need to defy his parents.  He wants to test the boundaries.  If we say no, he wants to see if we really mean it.

But then the question comes in to play – what battles are worth fighting?  As parents, we struggle to teach Little J a hundred things every day – from how to eat neatly at the table, to treating Cooper gently, to not kicking and hitting.  We are trying to work on what it means to be nice and what it means to be mean , as well as saying please, thank you and I'm sorry. 

So is it really worth it to say no and stick to no over some inconsequential thing  -- like wearing pants?  The pants example is a bad one, simply because Little J likes to run around the house with a shirt on – and nothing else (i.e. no diaper, no underpants).  He then likes to stand at the big window  at the back of our house and watch the ducks and geese on the lake.  I'm pretty sure that a pedophile would have a field day with the pictures…. Which is why I insist on pants in the house….. but I digress.

With my energy waning with each day of this pregnancy, and with my tolerance for yelling and snappishness gone by the end of the work day, I really hope for peace at home in the evenings.  Which means that I often pick and choose my battles.  No, Little J, you can't play in the cabinet under the sink with the dangerous chemicals.  But yes, I will fold and allow you to have one candy corn now before dinner.

I think this is some of the hard parenting stuff you aren't really prepared for.  How do you set limits for someone who is still learning to comprehend the world?  And what limits are appropriate?

More thoughts on this later, I am sure.

© Lessons from Cooper

The refrigerator

Apparently, for a two year old, the refrigerator is a magical place, filled with all sorts of interesting things. 

In the last few weeks, Little J has started getting his juice and his milk out of the fridge all by himself.  He also pulls out his cheese sticks, his yogurt, and whatever else happens to look good.

This morning, he snagged a package of hot dogs.  He then ran full force in to the living room, dripping hot dog juice all the way.  The only good thing that was happening at the time was that Cooper was still outside for his morning constitutional.

So, after wrestling a two year old that is quite possibly stronger than me, and winning back the hot dogs, I cleaned up the carpet and the couch before Cooper decided to make a snack of my cushions.

(c) Lessons from Cooper

The End of Cooking

The third trimester of my pregnancy with Little J is a little fuzzy in my mind.  I remember it was incredibly hot, and that I spent much of the summer when I wasn't at work, resting on the couch in our air-conditioned house.  I remember venturing out to see our neighbors for short period of time, but always heading inside within an hour.  I remember attending scheduled functions, but always being tired – much too tired for spur of the moment events.  And I remember the downhill slide of our eating patterns.

About week 32 or so, Big J went to a conference in Colorado and left me flying solo for two weeks.  I was busy – work, other commitments.  I remember that most of the meals I ate home involved something frozen put in to the oven. Big J made lots of sandwiches that summer – tasty egg sandwiches, with cheese and mustard, largely because I didn't want to cook.

I've noticed in the last few weeks that the no-cook pattern is returning to our household.  Big J was gone on Saturday.  Little J and I ate leftovers, followed by Wendy's, followed by takeout from our neighborhood Marsh.  Sunday was more leftovers, followed by dinner at my Mom's.  It's not that I don't' want to cook.  I just don't seem to have the energy for it much anymore.

An added problem this time around is my recently-discovered gluten allergy.  Now, it's not just make something – but make something that fits around a specific dietary requirement.  With all kudos to Big J, he is trying.  But I have to wonder how long this will last.  With two long months to face – and my energy waning by the day – I wonder if we will survive until December?

So tonight we made it through with eggs and cheese for dinner.  Everyone was fed -- but I have to admit I am still a little bit hungry.

© lessons from cooper

The scramble

In the last twenty-six months, I've had to learn a new thing or two.  Among them – the scramble. As in, we have a set schedule and plan for each day – who is taking care of Little J.  Who is going to work?  When ?  When will we each be home?  Who is making dinner?  What are we having?

But sometimes, things happen that upset the balance.  I would say that this problem is unique to families where both parents work, but I think that would be an oversimplification.  We all have plans, obligations, and things to do whether we work outside the home or not. But in our house, the major obstacle in the scramble is the two-parents-working. 

The scramble was in full force this morning.  I remembered, almost as a fragment of a memory, Big J saying something about Miss Carrie being unavailable to watch Little J on the 18^th (i.e. tomorrow).  But I didn't remember which one of us was supposed to do something about it.  Until this morning. 

Once we ironed out who was supposed to handle this, the next question became what the back up plan was…  we agreed to a plan, only to have an alternate plan presented.  I took the alternate, and Little J is covered for tomorrow – which is a good thing, since I have a meeting in the morning I can't get out of.

In the middle of all this we have two other Little J issues:  the cough (no fever!) and he appears to have hurt his arm, again.

So, looks like the scramble may be back in play for later today or tomorrow – who will call the doctor?  Who will take him?

One thing I have learned from having a child is the importance of flexibility – not just in taking what he does, says, and comes up with in stride, but also  applying that same flexibility to things like work.  So I wasn't able to finish the projections spreadsheet while I was actually at work … but maybe I can finish it when Little J goes down for a nap or after Little J goes to bed.  The point learning to be flexible in how I spend my time so that everything – from taking care of Little J to getting my work done to spending time with family and friends – gets attention.

I'm working on it. 

© lessons from cooper

Go Colts!

31 weeks pregnant with Baby #2

The shirt arrived!!!!!!!!  Even if they didn't win today, I'm glad I had a chance to show off my team spirit.

The pink stuff

Have you ever noticed that your kids get the sickest smack dab in the middle of the weekend?  Things you might normally just call the pediatrician for mid-week, you think through on Saturday night and Sunday morning....  is it medcheck worthy?  emergency room?  ok to wait until Monday?

This was one of those weekends for Little J.  He's had a slight cough for a few days, and a little bit of a runny nose -- but nothing overly dramatic.  Last night however, he coughed his way through the night -- at least while I was still up.

When he woke up this morning, I went through the checklist in my head. I decided that since he wasn't running a fever -- and since I know I spend about 6 months of the year taking benadryl every day,  that it was quite likely he has an allergy or two.  I went ahead and gave him a toddler-appropriate dose of children's benadryl. 

I don't do this very often because I know there is a lot of controversy about this -- I guess some parents use over the counter cold medicine to medicate their children more as a behavioral aid.  And, there are risks associated with over-medicating.

Then I panicked.  Because forty-five minutes later, Little J fell asleep in a big heap on Bog J's lap.  And he slept.  And he slept.  And he slept.  He slept for three whole hours!

But I checked -- he was breathing.  (I said I panicked).  I worried that even though I gave him a small dose, maybe it wasn't small enough. 

But then he woke up.  Cheery, happy, content.  He didn't cough.  He clearly felt better.  So I'm thinking that he was just tired -- probably from coughing all night long -- and he needed to nap because of that, not because his mommy gave him a dose of the allergy medicine.

So.  My lesson for the day.  Stop.  Breathe.  We're all breathing and we'r not hurt.  Don't panic.  Just.  Breathe.

(c) Lessons from Cooper