Toby's new "crib"

Okay, so Toby doesn't have a new "crib." He has exactly the opposite of a crib.

TOBY HAS A BIG BOY BED!

A few weeks ago he attempted to climb out of his crib during nap time. I spent the majority of that nap staring intently at his monitor, watching his every move, ready to pounce should he try to escape. He went a couple of weeks without any further attempts and I thought nothing more of it.

Until.

Saturday 9/13/14 I put him down for his nap; business as usual. About 20 minutes later, I heard the toilet flush upstairs. I ran up to find him playing in the bathroom. He took one look at me with his little "I know I did something naughty but, I'm going to make myself look irresistibly cute" smirk and said, "Mama- me boo-boo." That was when I knew it was time. While I enjoyed him being in a crib (read: it was easier for us to know he couldn't wander) I knew he could now escape. So, it was time.

Remember last week when I posted about not paying attention to "the lasts?" This is exactly what I'm talking about. Little did I know that when we put him to bed on Friday, September 12, that would be the "last" time he slept in a crib. It makes me want to pay close attention to every single thing that happens with him. If only I could turn back the hands of time and kiss him goodnight on that Friday evening, knowing it was his last crib night. I know, I'm being dramatic. I'm allowed.

Anyway, we took the side off his crib to make it into a day bed and I just really really disliked the way it looked; it reminded me of a hospital bed. So, last weekend, we made the journey to IKEA to pick up a few things (and even got him a new toddler bed!) On Sunday, we spent the entire day doing a little "mini makeover" to his nursery.

While I still wanted to keep the theme nursery-like (meaning, I'm not moving on to trucks or dinosaurs or whatever I predict he will want in the near future) I did make his room feel a little more big-boy-esque.

Toby has a thing for puppets. Mama has a thing for organization. Papa Dan has a thing for woodworking... so, Toby has stands for all his puppets.

This is his "new" reading nook. I used to have a chair here for when I'd rock and nurse him to sleep. *sigh*

 We added a little bookshelf on the side and put some of his very favorite books there.

His crib used to be against that back wall- on the slope. Taking it out really opened up the room and perfectly fits his new big boy bed and his rocking chair. We also added an additional bookshelf here to hold his nighttime prayer books/bed books.

He actually picked out his own comforter at IKEA. He picked one with frogs, foxes, owls, and other woodland creatures. I was relieved because if he had picked an airplane or dinosaur one, it wouldn't have really fit with his artwork/mural, but thank goodness he's still liking the theme I picked for him.

  

 

Forget the cat- Don't kill curiosity

I haven't written in almost two months. Perhaps it's because I'm really busy right now. Or it could be because I have a touch of writer's block. Or maybe it's that, lately, I'm really turned off by the artificial environment created via social networking. Whatever the reason, I feel compelled to write about an experience with Toby last night... I want to remember it.

We recently purchased Preschool Prep as an educational tool. (We love it, by the way) But, because we are pretty strict with our screen time policies, we only allow Toby to watch one "episode" per day. Fortunately (and unfortunately) Toby loves it. Which means he asks for it ALL.THE.TIME. (He calls it "Tee-tee.") Last night, after the millionth time he asked for "Red Tee-tee" (the Meet the Colors DVD in the Preschool Prep pack) we told him, "Tee-tee is broken."

Was that the right thing to do? I don't know. Should we have lied to him? Maybe not. Should we give in and let him watch it any time he wants? Who knows? I'm not sure of the answers to any of these questions but, I've surrendered to the idea that often there are no definitive answers when it comes to parenting.

After telling him Tee-tee was broken, the following conversation took place:

Toby: "Tee-tee again!"
Jessi: "No, buddy. Tee-tee is broken, remember?"
Toby: "Mama, me fix Tee-tee."
Aaron: "You think you can fix Tee-tee?"
Toby: "Yep. Me fix Tee-tee. Watch Red. Mote?"

We didn't hesitate and, instead, handed him the "mote" (remote.) He fiddled around with it for a few minutes while Aaron and I watched. (We had discretely unplugged the television so the remote would not have worked.) After a few minutes Toby said, "Tee-tee gone" and that was the end of it. He moved on.

Later, after we put Toby to bed, I said to Aaron "Isn't it cute that he thought he could fix the television? I wonder why he thought he could fix it?" Aaron simply said, "He believes in himself. He has no reason to think he couldn't fix it."

The conversation ended and we moved on but, I thought a lot about that for the rest of the night. One of my biggest parenting fears is the overarching fact that things are out of my control. I can't control the people in his life who show little interest in him. I can't stop the kids at school who may someday cut him down. I can't (and won't) prevent his failures. However, it does pain to me think of the ways the world will take things from him that he will never noticed he had.

It really reminded me of this book I read in graduate school about philosophy in relation to "self" and building security and autonomy. The author discussed how a child will want to stop (usually when we are in a rush) to point out a "doggy" or a flower . We (the parent/adult or, one could argue, society) forces them into complacency: "Yes! That's a doggy! It's just a doggy. Let's go- we're late!" And with that, we've shamed them for being curious. Instead of reinforcing the vulnerable moment in which we can facilitate exploration, we squash it. That may be the last time they are curious about that something for the first time. We are always looking forward to the firsts, but we never pay attention to the lasts.

Alas, I digress.

The point is, Toby thought he could fix the television. At two-years-old, he thought that he could fix an electronic device without any knowledge about electricity. I have a masters degree yet, I can't figure out how to work my cell phone half the time; I'm intimidated by most electronics. However, my son thinks he can fix a television. More over, he wants to take a shot doing something that will, in the end, get him what he wants (Red Tee-tee.)

In honor of full disclosure, on another day we might have said, "Toby, you can't fix the television. You're not watching Red Tee-tee again. You know the rules." But, for this moment in time, for a precious minute, we surrendered to his curiosity-- to his belief that he can do anything-- and we stood by and let him fail. We didn't rub it in. We didn't say, "See! You can't fix the television!" We just surrendered. One thing I am learning is to pick my battles (and with a toddler, he gives me many opportunities to pick and choose.)

I guess what I'm really wondering about is when we stop believing in ourselves? While I think our (dis)abilities become more explicit when we grow and are able to reason, I think it goes deeper. Where do we lose the ability to really believe in our "self"?  On a play ground? At a family gathering? On Facebook? In our manager's office? Via a "thin envelope" from our "safe school?" Or, could it really be when our curiosity is squashed??? When we prevent someone from trying something they might fail? Or by assuming failure is inevitable?

I'm not sure.

Clearly parenting is no joke. It comes with so many doubts and questions. But, I think I'm going to surrender to my own curiosity more often... and certainly nurture his. I want him to trust himself enough to try- but have the wisdom to know his possibilities. I want him to be curious and sometimes that means I have to let go of adult logic and, frankly, get the hell out of the way.

It's an O.C.D thing: You just wouldn't understand...

There are certain things a person with O.C.D just can't handle and, unless you have O.C.D, you're incredibly anal, or you're a perfectionist... you just won't get it.

Now, I say "O.C.D" very loosely. Do I diagnostically fit into the category of Obsessive Compulsive? Nope. But, tongue in cheek, I'm definitely anal. So, on this rainy Monday, I'm going to supply you with 10 things this person with "O.D.C" struggles with:

1. Pumping gas: Okay, so not only is the pump disgustingly dirty (who knows who touched that thing?!) let's talk about how hard it is to get the money on the dollar. I wonder how many dollars I've overpaid big oil companies in my quest to just pump in "a few more cents" to get to an "even" amount. Still, it doesn't stop there. It's not just pumping gas, it's making sure one million times, once or twice that I put the gas cap back on my tank. Then it's smelling my hands (repeatedly) to verify I didn't spill a drop of gas on them.

2. ATM Withdrawals: Okay, so before I even write about this, I need to first address a larger issue. I go NUTS when people say they need to go to an ATM Machine. Do we not realize ATM stands for automatic teller machine? So when you say, "I need to hit up an ATM machine." What you're really saying is, "I need to hit up an automatic teller machine machine.*" (*Note: even spell check wanted me to delete the repeated word there.) Alas, I digress. Anyway, visiting the ATM is wrought with difficulty for a paranoid OCD'er, vigilant person. First, you have to pull up close enough to reach the machine and not hit anything. Then you need to trust that the machine is not going to suck your card into the unknown depths of its belly while making sure you don't hit the wrong buttons. Further, you need to verify that you hit the right amount, $40, not $400 and proceed to freak out that the money is going to blow away in the wind before you grab it... or that you'll leave your card sitting there too long and it will get sucked back in. After all this, you'll drive off after hitting cancel one million times so the thief in your rear view doesn't take your money. But first you need to just pull over real quick to double check you got your card back. Then you drive another minute and stop to count the cash while having the following internal conversation: "Would they really believe you if the machine didn't give you enough? What if it gave you too much? Because, I could see how that could happen, some of these bills are sticky. Would they even know if it gave you too much? Would they call you? Yes, they have it all on camera. Keep driving, you look shady...Wait, is the person behind me sticking in their card? Yes. Good, you're safe. Crap, is that MY receipt hanging out of the machine? How did I forget that? Oh, well. It doesn't have my account number on it. Right? Does it? Shoot. Should I call the bank and cancel my card?"

3. Opening and stirring a new jar of peanut butter: If you don't buy organic and/or natural peanut butter you have no idea what I'm talking about. But if you do, you totally know. Stirring peanut butter can be an hour long affair. "Is it really mixed? I don't want the stuff on the bottom to be dry. And I don't want it lumpy. Shit, I just spilled a little over the side of the jar. Now it's not going to have its full creaminess. AND the label is going to look greasy. Ugh, I can't stand a greasy label. I can't wait until this jar is gone."

4. Losing a chapstick that you've been working to finish for the last 2 months: I really don't need to elaborate here. This is just such a profound loss. You will forever lack that sense of completion.

5. Grocery shopping: I mean, really. Once I get past sanitizing the cart handle, the shopping is all down hill from there. "Why is there a random bag of chips in the aisle with toilet paper? And look at that poor yogurt out of the refrigerator section. That's so sad. It's going to spoil. Perhaps I should put it back? I wonder how long it's been out? Maybe I should just tell a clerk. It probably shouldn't go back, it could already be spoiled and then someone will buy it on accident and maybe get sick. Did I buy yogurt this week? Yes. Let me feel it. Does that feel warm? I need to go back and get a new one from the BACK of the refrigerator."

6. Wrinkly commutes: The white knuckle 25 minute commute to work knowing full well the seat belt is wrinkling the shirt you freshly pressed and starched this morning. Then the subsequent horror of getting to work and noticing your child wiped their face on the shoulder of your sweater... But not wanting to wipe it off because it is sweet and you remember exactly when they did that earlier in the morning... but still, do you really want snot on your shoulder all day long?

7. Chipped toenail polish. Just cut my feet off. I can't even look at them.

8. Car wash: Driving anywhere near dirty cars in which someone wrote in the dirt on them. You know what I'm talking about. Those "wash me" cars. Ugh.

9. Black, please: When asked to sign an important document, or endorse the back of a check, and you're handed a blue ink pen. Followed immediately by that moment when you briefly contemplate how crazy you would appear if you asked for black ink.

10. Restaurant silverware: Is that a water spot? Or is that food? How many mouths has this fork seen? I bet at least one of the people had bloody gums. Dear Lord.

Aaron, the Disney expert

If you know me, at all, you know that I've never been a fan of Disney movies. I won't get into a long tirade about this but, it's true. There are a few really good ones that I appreciate (The Lion King, Mary Poppins, The Jungle Book, and a few others) but the list is short.

I'm just not a fan (mostly, I just detest animation.) When I was little (little being around 5-years-old) I would much rather have watched Sally Jesse Raphael, Geraldo or, my favorite, Quincy (imagine a 1980's show about a coroner. Yeah, that's what I would beg my mom to let me watch.) Alas, I digress. I was a weird kid. I'm a weird adult. We know this.

When I met Aaron he made some reference, quoting Dory (the fish.) When I looked at him sideways, he was floored to discover that I had never experienced Finding Nemo. I stopped watching Disney after The Lion King came out (that was the last of the best [IMHO.]) It was only about 2 years ago when I finally relented and watched it. I'd say, in this marriage, our (lack of) Disney knowledge is equally limited. I've seen a few movies that he hasn't and vice-versa. Neither of us are experts.

However, this afternoon, Aaron surpassed me. (Whether or not this is a "victory" is yet to be determined.)

Let me set the scene. We had just arrived home from attending a musical at a local theater. Aaron was making lunch while Toby was in his highchair waiting to eat. I had just come inside from walking the dogs and I interrupted Aaron belting out a song which was playing on Pandora.

A: (singing) "And I'll reread the books... If I have time to spareeeee. I'll paint the walls some more, I'm sure there's room somewhereeeee. And then I'll brush and brush, and brush and brush my hair..."
J: (interrupting) "Did you ever imagine, EVER, that you'd be making lunch for your kid, singing along to music from Brave??"
A: "Nope. Not in a million years. And actually, that song is from Tangled. Not Brave."

Um....

Toby's Wee-wee

Interesting choice of a title, right? Stay with me, there's a story behind it.

I live on a very busy street and it never really bothered me until I had a child. The worst part of our location is that about 30 yards down our road is a stoplight. Often, if the light is red and it's a busy time of day, a long line of cars accumulate in front of our house. This leads to a myriad of problems: people flicking cigarette butts and litter near our driveway, inappropriate and foul music being blasted from tricked-out ridiculous cars, revving loud pipes of motorcycles outside my sleeping son's bedroom window, and a lack of general privacy when we are out front.

Given all of that, we have a pretty nice/spacious/private backyard which contains our gardens, grill, dining area, and ALL OF TOBY'S OUTDOOR TOYS (swing set, playhouse and the like.) Unfortunately, it's most convenient to use our front door, so this involves walking down our driveway to get to the back- and our road/driveway offers an unruly a curious toddler so many distractions.

This morning, much like every morning, we went outside to play before I had to come in to start getting ready for work. Coming inside before Toby considers himself "all done" is usually a battle and I am always prepared for the fight about to take place when I try to walk him up the driveway. It pretty much looks like your worst nightmare.

This morning, however, we stayed out longer than I would have liked, leaving me very little time to get myself together before I left for work (hence why I look like a total disaster most days.)

As we were walking up the driveway, I noticed a long line of cars indicating the stoplight was red. I began to flush at what I must look like with a kicking/wriggling toddler tucked under my arm. So, I used my trusty bargaining chip. "Wee-wee."

For Toby's 2nd birthday Nana and McPepe gifted him a pretty neat firetruck (click here.) Yes, it's amazing but, a little too intricate for Toby to have full access to all the time. So, we have it stored away and every couple of days we take it out for SUPERVISED play. We don't do this with a lot of his toys, but this one is really nice and I think he'll appreciate it when he's older.

Alas, I digress. Toby calls Fire-trucks "Wee-wees" because that's what he does when he mimics the sound of the siren. So, naturally, we refer to the truck as "Wee-wee."

Remain with me, I'm getting to the point.

So, this morning, I'm wrangling my toddler under my arm, with a death grip as he slides under the sweat that has accumulated on my body (because it's one-million-degrees outside.) If you were waiting in one of the vehicles lining my street this is what you would have been witness to:

T: (kicking and screaming) "Nooooo! DOWN! BOO-BOO! PEE-PEE! CA-CA! CAR! DONE! ALL GONE! MILK!"
J: (probably looking like a train-wreck) "I know you want to stay outside and you're mad that we have to go in!"
T: "DOWNNNNNN!"
J: (panting/out of breath) "Hey! You know what? Mama wants to play with your Wee-wee. Do you want to play with your Wee-wee?"
T: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
J: (trying to maintain composure as there are multiple vehicles [all with their windows down] observing this scene.) "Yes, that's what we'll do! We haven't played with your Wee-wee for few days! Let's play with your wee-wee!"


It wasn't until I got inside and sat down in a puddle of sweat that I realized what that must have sounded like to the audience in front of my house.

I expect DCYF to be showing up at any moment.