Thank you, Miss Kim!

My deepest thanks to my favorite toddler wrangler for giving me some excellent tips this week.  She may have retired for the next few baby-making years, but Miss Kim is my go-to gal for advice on my terrorist... I mean toddler.

He just had his second birthday and got a multitude of toy sets with a million pieces each.  When sitting in the middle of his hurricane wondering how on Earth I was going to organize it all on a zero-dollar budget, Miss Kim suggested that I use my clear shoe containers (I have a million of them) to group and organize each set in an easy-to-stack, easy-to-view way.  Brilliant!  Now, it is much easier for him to choose what he would like to play with and for him to know where to put things away when I'm choosing my battles to win the war.

Today, I told Miss Kim about his temper tantrums.  I'm sure every other mother of a young two year old thinks the same as I do, but - man - his fits are horrible!  He even sniffs of the possibility that he isn't going to get his way and the screaming starts.  I don't know what exactly has possessed my happy little baby over the past couple of weeks, but this little demon can't be stopped once he gets going.

Miss Kim explained about the ABCs of temper taming.  A is the antecedent or what sets him off (aka not getting his way).  B is the behavior or his reaction (aka the screaming and kicking fit).  C is the consequence or how I will react.  That's the kicker.  The million dollar question.  What do I do??

First, I need to reign in my own temper.  Hey, he gets his somewhere, and it is not all from his father.  After taking a deep breath and taking stock of my ABCs, I have decided to set aside a "Time Out" station for him to sit at until he is finished crying.  I explain to him calmly that he isn't to move until he is finished crying, then I ignore him.

If he decides he wants to move before he is finished crying, I stand above him and force him to stay until he is finished.  Talk about a battle of wills!  Sometimes it becomes a true standoff, but I try to win the majority of the time.  Eventually, I'm hoping that he gets the whole concept of time out and tries to avoid it as much as possible.

Miss Kim also suggested an egg timer to give him a concrete end goal.  "When the timer dings, you may get up."  Anything to help him realize that his behavior isn't going to get him the reaction he wants.  Maybe the egg timer is really for me...

Once again, BRILLIANT, Miss Kim!  Thank you.

The First Step is Breathing!

I often find myself holding my breath when I'm thinking of stressful things.  It isn't something I do on purpose; instead, it is more as if my body is concentrating so hard that it doesn't remember to push air in and out.  More often than not, it results in a wicked tension headache.  Of course, the gallon of coffee I ingest each morning doesn't help the situation.

I've been working on cutting down my coffee addiction, but it is just SO good that I'm finding it hard.  I'm one of those that likes a bit of coffee with my milk and sugar, so the end result is soft and sweet and oh so tasty!  Not at all bitter and hard like black coffee.  Yuk!

Back to the breath holding issue.  Not thinking of stressful things won't work for me right at the moment, so instead I'll find ways to remember to breathe.  Pending divorce, single motherhood, financial ruin... all of these things tend to take over a brain and not let go.  Most of the time, I'd love nothing more than to succumb to the pressure and just lay down until I could breathe again, but - with a toddler to wrangle and a life to run - that isn't an option.  Instead, I've been concentrating on deep, cleansing breaths combined with meditative exercises geared toward relieving the pressure.

What is it they always say?  The first step is admitting you have a problem.  Well, I have a problem remembering to breathe, so first step taken!  Now I just have to find real ways to not let the stress rule my life.

Go, Good Cop, Go!

For the first time in what feels like forever, I am the fun parent. I brought the baby to Disney, all by myself, and we are having a blast. I even let him have a sugary drink with dinner! (GASP!)

Here is the back story in case you've missed it: I am the primary caregiver to my nearly 2-year-old son, so I'm the one setting boundaries, establishing a schedule and being the bad guy by saying "no". (I'm learning that's a foreign concept to some people.) I am the one teaching him to play independent because I have things that need to get done on a daily basis. My ex husband gets him a couple days a week - when he is able to and if he feels like it - so he is on constant vacation mode and endlessly doing fun things to make up for lost time during the week. I can't say that I blame him too much, except that it makes my job 1,000 times harder. It always takes a day and a half to two days to get the baby back on the program.

The relationship that my ex and I were trying to keep friendly is crumbling fast, so I'm less and less able to rely on his ability to curb the super fun zone into the normal fun zone. Enter my master plan!

I've decided that every once in a while, I'm going to let myself be the fun parent. Since I have been relegated to the Bad Cop role, I figure I can take the liberty of expanding my resume and sharpening my Good Cop skillset. That way, if I ever get into a healthy relationship and have more children, I will have had the practice. If not, then London won't resent me because I'm no fun at all. Great plan, huh?!?

Tomorrow is a full day at the Magic Kingdom, and - who knows? - I might even let him have some chocolate! Go, Good Cop, Go!

Different is Different, Not Worse

These are words I have found myself repeating as a calming mantra as I expose myself more and more to people with different parenting styles.  I suppose you could say that I am an "It takes a village to raise a child" type parent, but - with a type-A personality in full force - I need the village to agree with my parenting decisions and jump on board with my style... not theirs.

Blessed with a big mouth and a small enough filter where my boca grande gets me into trouble, I have found myself breaking my own cardinal rules about overstepping boundaries.  I'm that ever so annoying parent that doesn't want a shred of advice about how you would do it but wants to tell you how it is and how it should be done.  Now, before you close this post with a vow to never read my rantings again, understand that I KNOW this is wrong and am working on righting it.

The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, so I have vowed to be more aware of my annoying habits and correct them before they happen.  No more correcting other people's children (unless they are about to get physically maimed) and no more expressing opinions when they aren't asked to be shared.  (I'm learning the hard way that it is true what they say about opinions: they are like a-holes, everyone has one but no one wants to hear from yours!).  I'm going to be a big girl and let every parent make their own mistakes with the expectation that they will let me make mine.

That being said (and here's the fun part!), I'm going to throw out a phrase my cousin often says (the one that has taught toddlers for 7 years and has all kinds of degrees and letters behind her name to back it up - I'll call her Miss Kim from now on), "Little kids, little problems.  Big kids, big problems."  Take a look at the children around you - both the known and the unknown - and look at the behaviors you like and don't like.

For example, I don't want my kid to be like that screaming lunatic in Olive Garden, so I correct his public behavior in private before it becomes an issue and teach him how I want him to behave.  My dad is always asking me why I'm so strict with the boy at the dinner table since no one is around to be bothered.  Basically, if he acts right at home, he will act right in public.  I, more often than not, get compliments at restaurants about how well behaved the boy is acting.

I realize this doesn't make me perfect and that I won't get nominations for mother of the year any time soon, but I work hard to do the right thing (whatever that is) to help my boy become an amazing man.  Just as I'm judging someone on their crazy parenting decisions, I'm positive there is someone out there judging me on mine.  I remind myself daily that it isn't wrong just because I don't agree with it.  (Yes, that was a difficult statement to write out loud!)  Different is different, not worse!

TV Rots Your Brains

I'm sitting here practicing the fine art of dish washing avoidance by adding items to my CafePress store and reading community forums when a posting sparked a cute memory.  Thus, this posting to you.  I don't rightly remember what the insignificant thing that sparked the funny memory was, but I do remember the memory and, yes, I am going to share.  But, first, the back story.

I recently read several articles detailing why children under the age of two should not be exposed to television including the link to ADD, lower language and visual motor skills, obesity, sleep disturbances, lazy parenting and a plethora of other ill effects.  (If you don't believe me, google toddler television watching and see what pops up.)

Upon reading these articles and realizing that I let my one-and-a-half-year-old son watch upwards of... well, I'm not admitting how many hours of television he watched... I made the decision to cut him back to one to two hours per day, at the most, including what is watched on the DVD player in my mom's SUV.  In my own defense, I thought having it on as background noise would serve as the same sort of background noise he would hear at daycare or school.  I was wrong.  See?  I can admit it.

I always saw those parents that had portable DVD players in restaurants or any handheld electronic device in public - aka portable babysitters - and judged them as lazy parents without the attention span to watch or discipline their own children.  Having actually popped a kid out and come to the understanding of basic survival skills required to obtain a minute to yourself, my judgement has lifted a bit, but I still don't wan to be that mom.  (I haven't changed my mind on child leashes, though.)

On weekdays, that time limit always includes Sesame Street since he responds very well to the lessons taught in that action-packed hour; on weekends, it includes my personal favorite of Phineas and Ferb by Disney.  Selfish, I know, but a mom's gotta live, too.

So what's the funny story, you ask?  In the past two weeks of the new regime, my son has started "talking" more and picking up on general human mannerisms... including pointing at the television and asking, "Please, Mom?"

Being All I Can Be

I had a parenting discussion with a cousin's wife today, and it has inspired me to finally sit down and write you.  As I am always interested in how other people choose to parent and in the similarities and differences to my choices, this is a great topic to get me started writing for you again.

Before you ask, "Which cousin?", understand that I have about a billion of them, so only people very close to me or with outstanding powers of deduction can keep them straight.  Luckily, many of them are of child-bearing years, so I have a lot of fuel for my intellectual fire.  I'm a pretty competitive person, and the streak did not miss my mothering side, so I'm constantly comparing my kid to theirs and finding ways to feel superior.  (Oh, please!  Everyone does it; I'm just honest about it).

Growing up, I was a soda drinking, fried-food eating, television watching McDonald's fiend.  BUT, we were always outside playing, so I only struggled with my weight rather than being overcome with obesity.  (Of course, the constant sun would explain the extraordinarily large spot of carcinoma the plastic surgeon cut out of my face a few years ago... but that's another story).  My point is that - other than some weight issues - I was a moderately healthy, smart, bubbly kid.

I don't want my son to grow up with the same unhealthy attitudes toward food that I still struggle with, so I'm starting now (he's a year and a half) to shape his eating habits.  I limit the sugar, the frieds, the fats and as much as the carbs as I can.  He gets whole grains and a ton of fruit and no condiments aka ketchup, mayo, or BBQ sauce.  He doesn't yet know what he is missing, and I'm hoping that he's learning food tastes good without all the unhealthy additions.

I've been criticized as mean and too strict, but I don't see discipline as a bad word.  Setting boundaries now will help him not only understand limits but know which rules are meant to be broken... and which are to be followed.  He's a happy, healthy baby (he will always be my baby) that knows what "no" means and is pretty well behaved for his age group.  Even the pediatrician expressed happy surprise at how well he responded to her in his last checkup.  We can go to restaurants and other public places with a minimum of outbursts without the need for a portable DVD player to play as babysitter.  How many other parents of toddlers can say that?

I'm not a perfect know-it-all; not by any means.  I'm always open to another point of view and have actually picked up pointers from parents that make many decisions I don't agree with.  I want to grow as a parent and learn to be the best mom I can be.  The stakes are too high to do any different.

It's Amazing What Happens When You Sleep

I've spent most of the past month (or more) existing on an average of 5 hours a sleep per night.  Many of you may not think that is a big deal, but you are looking at a woman that once required a minimum of 10 hours to funciton.  Then Mommyhood happened.

Ever since the infernal time change, our little Mister has been waking up not only several times through the night but at an ungodly hour to boot.  It wasn't just the time change that was the problem.  He tends to cut multiple teeth at a time, and he has been working on four molars (at once!) for some time now.  Not to mention, we've had a lot of company, and I'm always afraid of waking someone up.  You got it!  That means mommy came running whenever she heard even a peep.

One thirty, three thirty and finally at six thirty for good.  Six thirty in the morning is just fine for people that go to bed at decent hours, but I tend to get to sleep well after midnight.  Ok, before you start throwing the blame at me, let me explain!  My husband usually works the closing shift at Costco, so by the time I finish getting the munchkin fed, ready for bed and all tucked in, it is time to start making dinner for me and the hubby.  If I want any time with him, after he gets home and we eat is the time to do it.

Now, another posting is the time to discuss our addiction to reality television and all the major dramas.  This one is about sleep.  When I was getting little to none, I was a mommy zombie.  I was awake and moving, I could make barely intelligible talk-like noises, and I could get the basics done.  But that was it!  Anything more, and I needed to nap when Mister napped.  All of you other toddler mommies know that naptime is prime "git 'er done" time, so napping when he naps sucks the entire day away.  Yup, the nefarious Catch 22.

The past two nights, though, my little man has slept all the way through and allowed me a blessed eight hours.  Do you know how much I've achieved in the past two days?  Let's just say there was a tree that got decorated, a haircut, two dinners and a batch of cookies thrown into the usual baby-wrangling, eBay listing, picking up after three Tasmanian devils mix.

All hail sleep!  Send some positive thoughts my way for tonight, would ya?!?

My Favorite Time of the Day

My absolute favorite time of the day is just after bathtime when I lift my son from the tub and he wraps his tiny arms tightly around my neck while laying his cheek on my shoulder. He is one year old and old enough to want more independence but still enough of a baby to be dependent on his momma.

I could care less if I get soaked from head to toe from his little self. That big hug is enough to keep me going each day. It doesn't matter how difficult he was that day, that one moment makes it ALL worth it. He is my reason.

You other moms understand!