Other Stuff Everyday Month

Well art every day is not happening. I really applaud those of you doing the art or the writing or the journaling everyday. It's completely awesome. And every successful creative person will tell you that it comes from some daily creative action. I wish I had it in me lately. I tend to be a little less aspirational on an everyday basis. I'm more of a "brush your teeth every day" gal. Or a "reorganize the bookshelf by category everyday" type. Maybe I'll make a badge and everyone can participate in my non-clinical  OCD. How about "check craigslist everyday for toy storage bins"? Because that's my latest obsession. And thankfully I indeed found what I was looking for. So, along with a "new to me"  bunk bed and three large bins for toys and goodies, it looks like we might be able to stretch this house for a while longer. And it might even be the case that my kids can actually put away their own toys since they now can see where the toys go AND access that spot without climbing the shelves of their closet and risking their lives everyday month. AND, even better, they can see what toys they have and actually play with them. AND since all of this coincides with my sinus infection, their newly imposed independence suits me fine. So instead of art, I'll be squirting warm salt water up my nose everyday month. There must be a badge for that.

Here are more of my own personal badges. You can use any you like. Or tell me your own everyday badge in the comments. Let's start a revolution!

Good Morning

This morning made up for that horrible afternoon the other day. My husband left very early and I had to get both kids out the door earlier than usual because my son had a dentist appointment. My daughter woke up and after having her banana she pointed to her diaper, said poo-poo (she says that no matter what's in her diaper. One time I found a crayon in there and she was calling it poo-poo) and then laid down on the floor in our room waiting to be changed. Who ARE you?

And that's how the morning went. I said get dressed, they got dressed. I said brush your teeth, everyone marched into the bathroom. Did someone slip something in their cereal milk? By 7:30 they were in the car ready to leave for an 8:00 appointment that was only 15 minutes away. What to do with all this free time?

What I did in fact was not rush my son who wanted to buckle his sister into her car seat. More accurately, she's the one who asked him to do it. Then he got himself in and we were off. Since we had my daughter with us I wasn't able to sit with my son in my lap for this appointment so he was a little nervous about being in the dentist chair by himself. But he was a star. Dr. Jones scraped the gunk off his teeth, polished them, flossed them and even did a fluoride treatment. My son squirmed a little but I reminded him he was in a rocket chair that was lifting off and had a water spout for inter-galactic hydrating. Where do I come up with this shit?

We left 20 minutes later with our dentist prizes in hand and I got the kids to school by 8:30 and myself to work by 9:00. Even drop-off was smooth. My daughter sometimes cries but today she just jumped out of my arms to go be the helper and take the chairs off the tables. And my son was excited to tell his best friend about the pink sandy toothpaste that Dr. Jones used.

Maybe we'll have a third.

Green shorts be damned

My son is now sleeping in his underwear on a regular basis. So I'm considering that a win. He no longer insists on wearing a long sleeve shirt over his short sleeve shirt when he goes to pre-school in the morning. Another win. He's stop wearing socks with his sandals. Score. Now the only remaining vestige of operation modesty is his choice of bottoms. He still would rather wear pants to school everyday. One day he randomly agreed to wear his green shorts to school and when we arrived, all of the teachers cheered. I'm not joking. So the next day I took out the maroon shorts that are exactly like the green ones. He wouldn't wear them.

Him: I want green shorts.
Me: The green shorts are dirty honey.
Him: I only wear green shorts.
Me: But you peed on them yesterday so you can't wear them.
Him: ONLY GREEN!
Me: What's wrong with these? They're exactly the same except the color.
Him: I don't like them!
Me: Why not?
Him: I don't know.

You can see how I'm getting nowhere with this argument. So I bought him another pair of green shorts, same shade - apple. And I bought a pair of gray ones too which he refused to wear.

Me: But they're like your gray pants!
Him: No they're not. They're shorts. I only wear green shorts.

Where does he get this stuff? The other day he told me he was willing to wear black shorts too.
I'll just be happy he's not sleeping in fleece.

Um, excuse me?

Going to bed has become somewhat of a burden lately. My son insists that I do the whole ritual and frankly I am too tired at the end of the day to deal with even the tiniest bit of misbehavior. Something as stupid as a random comment during a story can sometimes set me off. Well, the comments are never random because he says the same freaking comment at the same time on the same page every single night and if I don't respond with a yes or a no or whatever might be appropriate affirmation of his observation, he continues to make the comment again repeatedly until I acknowledge. Maybe that's what sets me off. Trust me, it's super annoying.

And he's kind of like a dog when he settles in because he sort of wiggles around a lot and crawls in cirlces on the bed until he gets in just the right position. I try to be patient but for the love of ginger I just want to go to bed myself so put a move on it brother! And then invariably he needs to blow his nose, or pee, or drink tea because his fwoat hurts. It just goes on and on. The last few nights were particularly annoying so I got up and left him in the middle of our ritual and he, of course, started sobbing. Today we promised that we wouldn't fight. And so far so good, although he sounds a little restless in there. At any moment he could come out and ask "are you checking you mensenges?" (My computer is right outside his room).

Tonight though I had to laugh because I was sitting in the bathroom reading a magazine when he peaked in.

Him: Um, excuse me?
Me: Yes, honey...
Him: I can't find the blanket for my baby sister.

I bought him a doll house for his third birthday and I bought a little baby and baby furniture set to go in it. He calls the little doll his baby sister and lately he's been putting her to sleep and checking to see if she's crying and nursing her (that's the best - him holding an inch long wooden doll up to his nipple). So I guess he's putting her to sleep right now. I don't really care if he's not sleeping as long as he's not bugging me and not waking up his sister. The real one - not the wooden one. This doll is actually giving us great insight into his perception of our parenting techniques. The other day I heard him scolding the doll for crying and telling her that he was going to have to put his legs on her if she didn't stop crying. That's his version of what happens when he won't put on his pajamas and we have to pin him down to do it.

He has now come out of his room nine times. His tea is yucky. And he can't feed his baby sister because his bra is stuck.

Um, excuse me?

Mind your keys and shoes

I've found that every now and then we manage to channel my son's non-clinical obsessiveness into worthwhile habits. For instance, I finally decided that we should take our shoes off at the door before entering the house. With the baby slithering around all the time and the two of them sick for weeks on end, I decided I'd had enough of dirt and bacteria. Plus several month ago, when I made this decision, the carpeting in my kids' room had reached near saturation with urine. It was time for a deep clean.

So I had the carpets professionally washed and from that day told my son that we had to take our shoes off before we went inside. And he obeyed, which was completely unexpected since he's also obsessed with shoes. But not just any shoes. My shoes. Platforms. Peep toes. Strappy. Cowgirl shit-kickers. Knee high zip-ups. Loafers. Maryjanes. Crocs. You name it. So he would come home from school and parade around in shoes for the rest of the evening. And he's surprisingly well-balanced in heels. But I was getting tired of him wearing my shoes all the time. So the new rule not only prevented tracking in dirt from outside, it also meant he could no longer wear my shoes in the house. Brilliant!

So now, shoes off is his thing. The minute we get in the house he shouts SHOES OFF! If I walk into the kitchen to hang up my keys or put down the mail I get a lecture about wearing shoes in the house. Sometimes I can't get my shoes off one-handed and the baby needs to be changed so we go straight to their room and then he lets me have it for wearing shoes on the carpet. And fine, he's right. But does he have to be so obnoxious about it?

And keys too. If I don't hang up my keys on the chicken hook in the kitchen, I get berated in a sort of "what did I just tell you?" sing-songy kind of tone. Probably the same tone I give him fifty times a day. But the truth is, if I forget to put the keys on the chicken then I end up leaving them somewhere and searching for them the next morning while I'm rushing to work. So it's good that he reminds me.

But he has so many rituals these days that I can't keep them straight and if I mess one up it could launch an hour long tantrum. I'll never forget the time I accidentally flushed the toilet for him. He used to go in a little potty on the floor and then I'd dump it and clean the potty and he would pull up his pants, flush the toilet and wash his hands. That was the routine. One time I dumped the poop and then just flushed out of habit. I don't know, you see poop in a toilet and you automatically feel compelled to flush. Well now we know where the term "losing your shit" comes from. He cried for an hour that he wanted his poo poo back.

I know that toddlers need routine and it helps them organize all of the new things they experience on a constant basis, but there are some very murky waters between creating a reasonable framework in which your child feels safe and indulgence in behavior that, should it continue into later life, would most certainly be considered neurotic.

In the long term, who knows. But at least in the short term I no longer have to share my shoes with my three year old. If only I could figure out how to curb his obsession with cell phones.

Keeping up with Dr. Jones

Today I brought my son for the first time to see the dentist. He turned 3 on Saturday and I figured it was time. We brush his teeth twice a day but who knows if we're actually making a difference with those little toddler toothbrushes that completely splay at even the slightest bit of pressure. That, combined with the fact that our son basically chews on the thing and sucks off all of the toothpaste when it's his turn to brush, makes me question if we're making a lick of difference in his overall dental hygiene.

But it turns out that the brushing (and the related tantrums) were not for naught. No cavaties and kudos from Dr. Jones for a fine set of choppers. Thank god. The last thing I needed was the guilt of having not adequately brushed. Just getting him to brush in the first place was a struggle. I consulted the Berkeley Parents Network (they usually show up when I do a search, though the advice tends to be a little too earth mother for me) and everyone talked about making it a good experience and using dolls and singing songs yadda yadda yadda. An excerpt:

"Try the Raffi song, Brush Your Teeth, and have her brush as you sing along with Raffi. My 14-month old daughter loves it. We start singing, ''When you wake up in the morning, it's quarter to 1, you want to have a little fun, you brush your teeth,ch-ch-ch- chchchcchc...'' and my little daughter grins and looks for her toothbrush. She'll even ask to brush her teeth at random times of the day by putting her finger to her mouth and going ''ch-ch- ch-ch...''. Not sure if this will work with your baby if they already hate toothbrushing but it's worth a try. G'luck. Mom of 14-month old who loves to brush"

Spare me, "Mom of 14-month old who loves to brush". My kid sees right through your little schtick. They were all like that. Use puppets. Sing a song about teeth. Let him do it himself until he's comfortable. Read books about brushing teeth. We tried everything and it always ended in a lot of screaming and very little brushing. Then I saw this one. This guy had a kid like mine. His post was anonymous, fearing the wrath of social services and the crazed Berkeley parents still nursing their four year olds.

"This is how you can brush the teeth of a non-cooperating toddler: Wet the brush and stick it and the tube of paste into your shirt pocket. (You're going to need both hands for a few seconds.) Lay the toddler on the floor (preferably carpeted). Sit on the floor above their head, placing your knees over the toddlers shoulders/ upper arms. Your feet should be along side the child's body. This effectively pins their arms and prevents them from undesired interference. Now imobilize their head between your thighs by gently squeezing. Now you have both hands free to load the paste onto the brush, and one hand available to open lips (which will be sqeezed tightly closed by the child). I found it effective to slide my finger into the corner of the mouth and follow that with the brush. Brush as gently as possible considering the lip resistance. Let them up to rinse.

During all of this maintain a calm manner and in a gentle voice let them know over and over that brushing is not optional- tomorrow we can do it the easy way, or the hard way - the choice is theirs.
-from a dad wishing to remain relatively annonymous"

Now THAT'S the way to do it. It's the pin and pry method. It worked for us. None of this good ship lollipop crap. Now my son's a great brusher. And we really only had to pin once or twice.

But back to the dentist. I was feeling all proud of my son for opening his mouth and saying ah and ee and having his teeth polished and proud of me for brushing at least enough to keep his teeth healthy. Then Dr. Jones asks if we floss. Are you KIDDING me? I barely remember to floss my own teeth and now you want me to floss my three-year-olds teeth? I mean there is a limit to the extra layers of complexity that I'm willing to build into my morning and evening rituals. Soon my daughter will have teeth. Will I have to floss hers too? Sure, when she only has two teeth it will just be the one swipe between, but before long she'll have all twenty teeth and then we'll all have to wake up at 6am in order to floss everybody in time to leave the house by 8:30. Just once I wish someone would give me some advice that might save me some time. Oh you shouldn't read to your kid at night. It's bad for them. Think of all the extra time you could put toward flossing if you didn't have to read "Goodnight Moon" 400 times every night.