Whew. This afternoon was "one of those days" in one's life as a parent that makes you question the wisdom of having multiple children. Miss Mouse has been a bit off the last couple days -- I suspect it's the combined impact of a cold and a late night on Monday -- and grouchy doesn't begin to describe her. She spent most of the afternoon in absolute hysterics, screaming and crying at the top of her lungs.
As luck would (not) have it, for whatever reason, I also felt like Josh and I weren't firing on all cylinders as team parents. I'm fortunate to have a wonderfully dedicated and engaged man as the father of my child, so I never feel like we're playing for different teams. There are days, though, when it seems like perhaps we're on different pages of the playbook.
When I got home this afternoon, Mouse wanted a snack. Often, when it's just us, we snuggle up on the couch together to read a story while she munches on crackers or whatever. Josh isn't a big fan of this and is starting to be more firm in enforcing the "we only eat at the table" rule.
Fair enough. I'm theoretically on board with this, but cracker crumbs in the couch bother me less than him, so I probably would have let it slide, given the precarious state of yon Mousie's temperament today.
However, I am a big believer in the importance of the United Parental Front. Kids learn to divide and conquer amazingly early on and I think that it is important that parents present a unified message and not undermine each other. Until this afternoon, we hadn't had many times when this was an issue so my beliefs were mostly theoretical. And I found that my first (and strong) impulse was to reach over and pick the wailing snotty creature out of her chair and let her sit in my lap to eat her snack.
But I didn't. It was a moment of growth for me as a parent to realize that she wasn't in danger of Death by Booster Seat and that it was worth it to hear her shriek for a while for her to know that when Daddy sets a boundary, Mommy isn't going to overrule him. Tough love all the way around.
And she survived. And ate her snack. And then had six more tantrums before bedtime. I'm ready for bed, myself!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The Games We Play
Miss Mouse has continued her enthusiasm for the "pretend we're sleeping" game and currently enjoys it most when I lie on the couch, feigning sleep, while she covers me up with fabric scraps.
As the game has evolved, Miss Mouse has gotten to be increasingly fierce about enforcing its baby-created rules. The number one commandment is: "Thou Must Actually Pretend to Be Asleep" -- which means that eye opening is strictly prohibited.
Should she catch me peeking, my wee tyrant issues a very stern "Mama SLEEP" and glares ferociously.
Unfortunately, this behavior tends to give me the giggles. Yesterday afternoon, I was trying valiantly to pretend to be asleep, but absolutely could NOT stop laughing. You know the kind of giggles I'm talking about. They're the irrepressible, bubble-up-uncontrollably, embarrass-you-in-a-meeting, make-you-snort kind of giggles.
So there I was, lying on the couch, shaking with mirth, tears running down my face while my increasingly irritated child continued to repeat "Mama SLEEP" -- which only made the whole situation worse.
Fortunately, I managed to get myself under control before I provoked an all-out tantrum from my Mouse. I'm going to have to get better at that, clearly!
As the game has evolved, Miss Mouse has gotten to be increasingly fierce about enforcing its baby-created rules. The number one commandment is: "Thou Must Actually Pretend to Be Asleep" -- which means that eye opening is strictly prohibited.
Should she catch me peeking, my wee tyrant issues a very stern "Mama SLEEP" and glares ferociously.
Unfortunately, this behavior tends to give me the giggles. Yesterday afternoon, I was trying valiantly to pretend to be asleep, but absolutely could NOT stop laughing. You know the kind of giggles I'm talking about. They're the irrepressible, bubble-up-uncontrollably, embarrass-you-in-a-meeting, make-you-snort kind of giggles.
So there I was, lying on the couch, shaking with mirth, tears running down my face while my increasingly irritated child continued to repeat "Mama SLEEP" -- which only made the whole situation worse.
Fortunately, I managed to get myself under control before I provoked an all-out tantrum from my Mouse. I'm going to have to get better at that, clearly!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Who's Bored Here?
I'm learning that it's extremely difficult to bore a toddler. They just find everything so interesting. The same is not true for their adult care-givers, and I've noticed that - as a group - we tend to project our own boredom onto the wee creature we're playing with.
And so, several times when my folks were out last, my mother expressed concern that Miss Mouse was bored at their condo, or needed more toys for her bath, etc. And I often feel the same impulse -- to get her more things to play with to augment our collection of toys.
But then I take a minute and really watch her, and I realize that I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually seen her appear to be bored. She can always find something to keep her entertained.
Take this afternoon, for example. She spent 45 solid minutes covering me up with pieces of fabric while I lay on the couch.
It all started when she looked over and noticed me dozing. "Mama sleep!" she announced, and then came over and solicitously set a piece of shiny blue fabric on my stomach with a gentle pat. Then she crossed the room, returning with another piece of fabric. And another. She's got quite a stash, so the process took a while.
Once I was thoroughly covered, she clambered up onto the couch with me, lay down on my chest for a moment, then sat up and said "AGAIN!" She flung the fabric to the floor, sternly informed me to sleep, and set about covering me up again.
She repeated this activity nonstop for 45 minutes.
And so, several times when my folks were out last, my mother expressed concern that Miss Mouse was bored at their condo, or needed more toys for her bath, etc. And I often feel the same impulse -- to get her more things to play with to augment our collection of toys.
But then I take a minute and really watch her, and I realize that I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually seen her appear to be bored. She can always find something to keep her entertained.
Take this afternoon, for example. She spent 45 solid minutes covering me up with pieces of fabric while I lay on the couch.
It all started when she looked over and noticed me dozing. "Mama sleep!" she announced, and then came over and solicitously set a piece of shiny blue fabric on my stomach with a gentle pat. Then she crossed the room, returning with another piece of fabric. And another. She's got quite a stash, so the process took a while.
Once I was thoroughly covered, she clambered up onto the couch with me, lay down on my chest for a moment, then sat up and said "AGAIN!" She flung the fabric to the floor, sternly informed me to sleep, and set about covering me up again.
She repeated this activity nonstop for 45 minutes.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Summer Baby Grunge
You know you've spent a good summer day with your toddler when, by 7:00 PM, she is completely exhausted and covered head to toe in a patina of Summer Baby Grunge. Just what is SBG? It varies from day to day, depending on your activities and the proclivities of your offspring, but it's basically all the grime that accumulates when you spend a hot day in active play.
Today, Miss Mouse was sporting a coating of SBG that included:
And also very very tired. You know it's been a long day, when Miss Mouse voluntarily forgoes her bedtime stories in favor of a quicker date with her crib!
Today, Miss Mouse was sporting a coating of SBG that included:
- Sunscreen
- Sweat
- Chlorine from the community pool
- Dirt from the playground
- Cherries, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and assorted other fruit smears from a cookout dinner at a friend's house
- BBQ potato chip residue, from same cookout
And also very very tired. You know it's been a long day, when Miss Mouse voluntarily forgoes her bedtime stories in favor of a quicker date with her crib!
Friday, June 25, 2010
The Land of Make Believe
This afternoon, I watched Miss Mouse embark into the land of make believe for the first time. It was pretty cute. I had read that this was about the time that toddlers start using their imaginations and playing pretend and, sure enough!
For about 20 minutes this afternoon, all Miss Mouse wanted to do was pretend to be asleep. She was race around the room, then charge up to me and announce "I sleep!" Then she'd lie down on the floor and close her eyes.
My job was to say -- "Shhhhh! Mouse is sleeping!" -- loudly whenever she did this, and to cover her up with a blanket. Then she'd giggle madly, leap up, and repeat the game.
It was hysterical to watch this great milestone. Imagination is such a gift and I'm eager to watch her learn to use it more in the months ahead.
For about 20 minutes this afternoon, all Miss Mouse wanted to do was pretend to be asleep. She was race around the room, then charge up to me and announce "I sleep!" Then she'd lie down on the floor and close her eyes.
My job was to say -- "Shhhhh! Mouse is sleeping!" -- loudly whenever she did this, and to cover her up with a blanket. Then she'd giggle madly, leap up, and repeat the game.
It was hysterical to watch this great milestone. Imagination is such a gift and I'm eager to watch her learn to use it more in the months ahead.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Into the Diaper Swapping Fray
I have made my first foray into the convoluted jungle that is the online diaper swapping forum. This strange world is populated by creatures with names like "mommy2three" and "cushietooshielove" who speak their own language, consisting mostly of capitalized letter permutations. FSOT. ISO. FFS. DD.
It's a bit overwhelming, but in the interest of taking a frugal approach to rounding up diapers for Porthos, I'm giving it a go.
One of the big perks of cloth diapers is supposed to be their great resale value. The idea is that you can sell (or trade) your used diapers once you don't need them anymore. I went through Miss Mouse's stash of smaller diapers and identified a handful that were either seriously girly or else just never rang my bell.
My first swapping experience went something like this:
1) I responded to a posted request for pocket diapers with an offer of a one-size Knickernappies pocket diaper (whose fit I never liked) with original inserts.
Exhibit A: The Un-Loved Knickernappie Diaper
2) In return for my diaper, she offered a Thirsties Duo Wrap Size 1 (in green) plus $10 in cash, since the value of her trade was less than mine -- I paid $20 for my diaper new, while her cover was only about $13 new. The cash came via paypal (who charged me fifty cents for the privilege of getting money that way).
Exhibit B: Thirsties Duo Wrap
3) With said balance of $9.50 in my paypal account, I bought a used Green Acre Designs medium pocket (navy and green) from another woman, complete with insert, for $9.50 ppd (postage paid).
Exhibit C: A Green Acre Designs Pocket (pretend the interior is green)
The final outcome? I spent $2.43 on shipping my diaper to Lady #1. I offloaded a diaper I'll never use. And I'm ending up with a new (to me) diaper cover and pocket diaper with insert for use by Baby 2.
I'm pretty pleased! My next attempt will be to swap out some girly diaper covers for more masculine ones...
It's a bit overwhelming, but in the interest of taking a frugal approach to rounding up diapers for Porthos, I'm giving it a go.
One of the big perks of cloth diapers is supposed to be their great resale value. The idea is that you can sell (or trade) your used diapers once you don't need them anymore. I went through Miss Mouse's stash of smaller diapers and identified a handful that were either seriously girly or else just never rang my bell.
My first swapping experience went something like this:
1) I responded to a posted request for pocket diapers with an offer of a one-size Knickernappies pocket diaper (whose fit I never liked) with original inserts.
Exhibit A: The Un-Loved Knickernappie Diaper2) In return for my diaper, she offered a Thirsties Duo Wrap Size 1 (in green) plus $10 in cash, since the value of her trade was less than mine -- I paid $20 for my diaper new, while her cover was only about $13 new. The cash came via paypal (who charged me fifty cents for the privilege of getting money that way).
Exhibit B: Thirsties Duo Wrap3) With said balance of $9.50 in my paypal account, I bought a used Green Acre Designs medium pocket (navy and green) from another woman, complete with insert, for $9.50 ppd (postage paid).
Exhibit C: A Green Acre Designs Pocket (pretend the interior is green)The final outcome? I spent $2.43 on shipping my diaper to Lady #1. I offloaded a diaper I'll never use. And I'm ending up with a new (to me) diaper cover and pocket diaper with insert for use by Baby 2.
I'm pretty pleased! My next attempt will be to swap out some girly diaper covers for more masculine ones...
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Ceasefire
We've had a sudden ceasefire in the ongoing diaper changing battle. Could the war be over?
As recently as a couple weeks ago, Miss Mouse approached diaper changes with a horror most people reserve for root canals and bikini waxes. Any suggestion that we remove the wet sopping cloth from her bottom was met with protest, struggles, and frequently tears. On more than one occasion, I found myself pinning her to the changing pad with one arm, while trying to get a diaper on her one-handed. It wasn't pretty.
And then -- WHAM! -- one day, it stopped. These days, she actually informs us when she needs to be changed with a solemn "I poop" (which she uses for any type of bodily function. We'll work on refining her vocabulary later). Then she adds a hopeful inquiry of "diaper?" She'll even interrupt a meal in favor of a clean diaper.
It's shocking. And wonderful.
This new-found fondness for diaper changes has corresponded to the arrival of her big girl potty in the house. I'm not sure if that's causation or coincidence, but in either case, the light bulb appears to have gone on.
Wet diapers are yucky and uncomfortable. When I pee, my diaper gets wet. When dad changes my diaper, I feel better. EUREKA!
Next step: getting her to give us advance warning of impending diaper wetting so we can work on the whole potty thing.
As recently as a couple weeks ago, Miss Mouse approached diaper changes with a horror most people reserve for root canals and bikini waxes. Any suggestion that we remove the wet sopping cloth from her bottom was met with protest, struggles, and frequently tears. On more than one occasion, I found myself pinning her to the changing pad with one arm, while trying to get a diaper on her one-handed. It wasn't pretty.
And then -- WHAM! -- one day, it stopped. These days, she actually informs us when she needs to be changed with a solemn "I poop" (which she uses for any type of bodily function. We'll work on refining her vocabulary later). Then she adds a hopeful inquiry of "diaper?" She'll even interrupt a meal in favor of a clean diaper.
It's shocking. And wonderful.
This new-found fondness for diaper changes has corresponded to the arrival of her big girl potty in the house. I'm not sure if that's causation or coincidence, but in either case, the light bulb appears to have gone on.
Wet diapers are yucky and uncomfortable. When I pee, my diaper gets wet. When dad changes my diaper, I feel better. EUREKA!
Next step: getting her to give us advance warning of impending diaper wetting so we can work on the whole potty thing.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Pick Your Battles
One thing that I'm learning quickly as the mother of a toddler is that it's important to pick your battles very carefully. Every time you lay down the law, your toddler is going to test you to find out if you mean it. It's important to ask yourself before any law-laying whether you're willing to go the distance to enforce whatever it is you say. Because this is what awaits you, ready to do battle at the slightest provocation...
An example. As I get ready in the morning, Miss Mouse often asks for crackers. My instinct is frequently to say "no, honey - you don't need crackers" because I don't want to hassle with getting out the crackers and then keeping Riley from stealing them from her. But a casual "no" is a very bad idea. A casual "no" only really works with people who actually listen to you. Such is not the case with a toddler. Miss Mouse responds to my half-hearted no's with vigorous attempts to change my mind - frequently administered at the top of her lungs.
And then you're in a conundrum. You realize quickly that you don't really care if she has more crackers. What's the big deal with an additional Wheat Thin? But now, you've said "no" and the laws of consistency dictate that you stick by your guns. So now you're suddenly dealing with a screaming and thrashing toddler who is flailing about on the floor, demanding crackers that you couldn't care less if she eats, while you steadfastly stick to your stupid guns and wish you'd thought this through more.
But I'm learning. I try to think before I automatically say "no" to Mouse requests. And if it's something that isn't a big deal, I just let her have it. Like taking her sippy cup to bed at night. It's just not worth the fight to take it away from her. Or trying to get her to read a different book than the one we've just read 15 times. I'm trying to channel my inner zen master and go with the flow. Sometimes it even works!
An example. As I get ready in the morning, Miss Mouse often asks for crackers. My instinct is frequently to say "no, honey - you don't need crackers" because I don't want to hassle with getting out the crackers and then keeping Riley from stealing them from her. But a casual "no" is a very bad idea. A casual "no" only really works with people who actually listen to you. Such is not the case with a toddler. Miss Mouse responds to my half-hearted no's with vigorous attempts to change my mind - frequently administered at the top of her lungs.And then you're in a conundrum. You realize quickly that you don't really care if she has more crackers. What's the big deal with an additional Wheat Thin? But now, you've said "no" and the laws of consistency dictate that you stick by your guns. So now you're suddenly dealing with a screaming and thrashing toddler who is flailing about on the floor, demanding crackers that you couldn't care less if she eats, while you steadfastly stick to your stupid guns and wish you'd thought this through more.
But I'm learning. I try to think before I automatically say "no" to Mouse requests. And if it's something that isn't a big deal, I just let her have it. Like taking her sippy cup to bed at night. It's just not worth the fight to take it away from her. Or trying to get her to read a different book than the one we've just read 15 times. I'm trying to channel my inner zen master and go with the flow. Sometimes it even works!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
More Kids?
Being a Dad is a wonderful blessing, and I would not trade it for anything. But as I prepare for Porthos to enter our lives I find myself asking will we have anymore children after this? As of this weekend I am going to have to say, No. Why? Because Baby Furniture is a pain.
I spent the afternoon Friday putting together Porthos' crib, which has a changing table/hamper/dresser-ish thing attached to it. Needless to say it was a high blood-pressure couple of hours. I lost a bolt, only to find out after I was done that I used it in the wrong place. The hamper was not prepared properly by the 'preparing people. After that revelation I decided we don't need to use that hamper. Eventually I got it all done, but it was a challenge.
Then the dresser 'incident' occurred. I love my wife more than I can say, but she is one of the most indecisive people I have ever met in my life. For Porthos' dresser Kate came up with the idea to use a storage unit similar to a bookshelf with the clothes being held in cloth boxes (don't worry, there will be a picture of the finished product). So, yesterday we drive to the nearest Ikea (which took twice as long due to road work) and bought said storage unit. It weighed easily 150 pounds, but I lugged it out of the car and up into the living room.
This morning I was informed by said wife that she does not like that one and would like to return it and get an extremely similar item from target. Lugged the thing back into the car (by myself since my pregnant wife is unable to lift anything), returned it, lugged the new one to the car, then into the house. This evening I put the thing together, which was pretty easy actually.
So, maybe no more kids. I hate shopping especially at Ikea (love their furniture, hate the store). Putting things together is never ever ever as easy as the directions say. And then there is the wife who changes her mind every few minutes. Anymore kids? Our plan has always been three, but we'll see.
Josh
<><
I spent the afternoon Friday putting together Porthos' crib, which has a changing table/hamper/dresser-ish thing attached to it. Needless to say it was a high blood-pressure couple of hours. I lost a bolt, only to find out after I was done that I used it in the wrong place. The hamper was not prepared properly by the 'preparing people. After that revelation I decided we don't need to use that hamper. Eventually I got it all done, but it was a challenge.
Then the dresser 'incident' occurred. I love my wife more than I can say, but she is one of the most indecisive people I have ever met in my life. For Porthos' dresser Kate came up with the idea to use a storage unit similar to a bookshelf with the clothes being held in cloth boxes (don't worry, there will be a picture of the finished product). So, yesterday we drive to the nearest Ikea (which took twice as long due to road work) and bought said storage unit. It weighed easily 150 pounds, but I lugged it out of the car and up into the living room.
This morning I was informed by said wife that she does not like that one and would like to return it and get an extremely similar item from target. Lugged the thing back into the car (by myself since my pregnant wife is unable to lift anything), returned it, lugged the new one to the car, then into the house. This evening I put the thing together, which was pretty easy actually.
So, maybe no more kids. I hate shopping especially at Ikea (love their furniture, hate the store). Putting things together is never ever ever as easy as the directions say. And then there is the wife who changes her mind every few minutes. Anymore kids? Our plan has always been three, but we'll see.
Josh
<><
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Tough Love and Vacuum Cleaners
As a parent, one of the ongoing balancing acts that you are faced with is the issue of how to handle your child's fears. On the one hand, you want to be loving and supportive and to show your child you take seriously that which frightens her, even if it doesn't frighten you. On the other hand, you don't want to inadvertently feed those fears -- particularly if they are irrational -- and raise a quaking fearful weenie.
Now, some fears are pretty common and understandable, and I'd be willing to be quite supportive of Miss Mouse if she was afraid of, say, dogs. Dogs can be big and loud and they have a lot of teeth. Heck, I love dogs but strange canines still make me really nervous.
But Miss Mouse loves dogs. No, that which she fears above all else is...the vacuum cleaner.
Yup, the vacuum cleaner, sent from the bowels of Hades itself to torment small children. From an early age, she tensed up when she heard the sound of the vacuum, and now runs to my arms in panic when Josh fires it up. She doesn't even like it when it isn't turned on. The other day, she refused to come out of her room because the sweeper had inadvertently gotten left in the hall.
My mother's approach, bless her heart, has been to try to hide their vacuum cleaner at the condo under towels. My instinct is to say "suck it up kid, it's a vacuum cleaner." That's definitely one of those fears that I do not want to encourage or give validity to. Which isn't to say that I'm mean about it -- I don't fire up the cleaner and drag her over to show her it isn't dangerous. But I don't hide ours, nor do I make a big deal out of her fearful responses.
I suspect the root of the problem is our dog. Riley has long been terrified of the vacuum cleaner and I think he's been spreading rumors about its depredations to my impressionable young girl.
Now, some fears are pretty common and understandable, and I'd be willing to be quite supportive of Miss Mouse if she was afraid of, say, dogs. Dogs can be big and loud and they have a lot of teeth. Heck, I love dogs but strange canines still make me really nervous.
But Miss Mouse loves dogs. No, that which she fears above all else is...the vacuum cleaner.
Yup, the vacuum cleaner, sent from the bowels of Hades itself to torment small children. From an early age, she tensed up when she heard the sound of the vacuum, and now runs to my arms in panic when Josh fires it up. She doesn't even like it when it isn't turned on. The other day, she refused to come out of her room because the sweeper had inadvertently gotten left in the hall.
My mother's approach, bless her heart, has been to try to hide their vacuum cleaner at the condo under towels. My instinct is to say "suck it up kid, it's a vacuum cleaner." That's definitely one of those fears that I do not want to encourage or give validity to. Which isn't to say that I'm mean about it -- I don't fire up the cleaner and drag her over to show her it isn't dangerous. But I don't hide ours, nor do I make a big deal out of her fearful responses.
I suspect the root of the problem is our dog. Riley has long been terrified of the vacuum cleaner and I think he's been spreading rumors about its depredations to my impressionable young girl.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Papu and Nana
My parents are just wrapping up a two week visit and it's been great. This was their first real stay in their new condo and they've enjoyed settling in, putting up pictures, and generally making it their own...
...at least when they could be separated from Miss Mouse. Which wasn't all that often.
And it isn't just that my parents love her -- though they do, extravagantly. Miss Mouse is absolutely wild about her grandparents. During this trip, she settled on names for both of them. My dad is Papu and my mom is Nana. They're all she talks about.
Miss Mouse revels in their presence. She dances when they appear and sobs when they leave. She gets so excited she runs in wild erratic circles before flinging herself into their arms. She chatters non-stop and brings them all manner of prized possessions to admire: her puzzle pieces, her stuffed animals, her favorite books.
She's even gotten good at recognizing their white mini van and now cheerfully announces "Papu!" whenever she sees one.
It's marvelous to watch and my heart sings every time I see her pelt toward them for a hug, or hold her arms up to be picked up and smooched. Hooray for Nana and Papu!
...at least when they could be separated from Miss Mouse. Which wasn't all that often.
And it isn't just that my parents love her -- though they do, extravagantly. Miss Mouse is absolutely wild about her grandparents. During this trip, she settled on names for both of them. My dad is Papu and my mom is Nana. They're all she talks about.
Miss Mouse revels in their presence. She dances when they appear and sobs when they leave. She gets so excited she runs in wild erratic circles before flinging herself into their arms. She chatters non-stop and brings them all manner of prized possessions to admire: her puzzle pieces, her stuffed animals, her favorite books.
She's even gotten good at recognizing their white mini van and now cheerfully announces "Papu!" whenever she sees one.
It's marvelous to watch and my heart sings every time I see her pelt toward them for a hug, or hold her arms up to be picked up and smooched. Hooray for Nana and Papu!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
A Mishap
I was so jazzed by Miss Mouse's enthusiasm for her new potty last night that I figured she'd probably like to sit on it at a time when she might actually have to pee. Like, first thing in the morning. And, in my defense, I was only half wrong. Miss Mouse did have to pee this morning. She just didn't want to go near the potty...
...and chose instead to stand in a corner of the bathroom and pee on the floor.
Oops.
I'm not sure exactly what went wrong. When she woke up, I sprightly inquired if she might like to sit on the potty and she readily agreed. Off came the diaper, and into the bathroom we marched. I gestured expressively to the potty with a big encouraging smile. She frowned at it and backed away. I reassured. She refused. And then peed on the floor.
What's that about? Potty nightmares?
Once diapered again, she was happy enough to camp out on the potty while I combed my hair and brushed my teeth. I'll try again in the buff tonight. My plan is to get her naked, settle her on the potty, then start her bath. As we've learned, that often brings results, whether we want them or not!
...and chose instead to stand in a corner of the bathroom and pee on the floor.
Oops.
I'm not sure exactly what went wrong. When she woke up, I sprightly inquired if she might like to sit on the potty and she readily agreed. Off came the diaper, and into the bathroom we marched. I gestured expressively to the potty with a big encouraging smile. She frowned at it and backed away. I reassured. She refused. And then peed on the floor.
What's that about? Potty nightmares?
Once diapered again, she was happy enough to camp out on the potty while I combed my hair and brushed my teeth. I'll try again in the buff tonight. My plan is to get her naked, settle her on the potty, then start her bath. As we've learned, that often brings results, whether we want them or not!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Potty Love
Picture this: it's 7:15pm, already 15 minutes past your daughter's bedtime. You're trying in vain to coax her into her bath, but she's having none of it. Every time you pick her up and head for the bathtub, you are met with violent thrashing and a repeating wail of -- "Noooo! Potty! Potty!"
We just introduced Miss Mouse to the potty tonight and I think it's safe to say that she's a big fan. Granted, she hasn't actually gone to the bathroom while seated on the little plastic potty chair, but she is extremely excited to be able to sit on it.
For the past few weeks, Miss Mouse has been showing a growing interest in potty-related activities. She follows me in most times to supervise my activities (announcing "peeeeee!" with enthusiasm at appropriate moments), and has gotten pretty good at telling us when she's got a dirty diaper. So we figured, heck, why not go ahead and buy a potty?
We're planning a no pressure approach at this point. Let her get used to it, sit on it when she wants, and we'll just see what happens.
I just didn't foresee that it would be so difficult to get her back off of it!!
We just introduced Miss Mouse to the potty tonight and I think it's safe to say that she's a big fan. Granted, she hasn't actually gone to the bathroom while seated on the little plastic potty chair, but she is extremely excited to be able to sit on it.
For the past few weeks, Miss Mouse has been showing a growing interest in potty-related activities. She follows me in most times to supervise my activities (announcing "peeeeee!" with enthusiasm at appropriate moments), and has gotten pretty good at telling us when she's got a dirty diaper. So we figured, heck, why not go ahead and buy a potty?
We're planning a no pressure approach at this point. Let her get used to it, sit on it when she wants, and we'll just see what happens.
I just didn't foresee that it would be so difficult to get her back off of it!!
Monday, June 14, 2010
Budgeting the Beverages
We've been making a concerted effort to get serious about budgeting at home, with the goal of paying off one of our cars this summer. And, for the most, I think it's going well. One area that is a constant struggle for me, though, is grocery shopping. It's a good week if I can keep the grocery bill under $100 for the three of us. Which seems excessive when I stand back and look at it. I always feel like I should be able to spend less...
...but then I start breaking it down. Take beverages for example. We spend a lot of money every week on drinks. And we're not talking alcoholic drinks, here, folks. We never buy those. We don't keep soda on hand, either. No, I'm talking milk and orange juice and whatnot. Here's the breakdown of a typical week:
1 gallon organic skim milk -- $5.79
1 gallon organic whole milk -- $7.00*
1 gallon orange juice -- $3.49
1 bottle V8 Fusion -- $3.99
Grand Total: $20.27
Yeah, that's $20 A WEEK on beverages! Egad.
Now, could I cut down on this number? Sure. I choose to buy organic milk, despite the premium price, because I believe it's important from a health standpoint. I'll switch back to regular for me when I'm not pregnant, but the kiddos are staying on organic! And V8 Fusion is horribly expensive, but my fam's not good at eating vegetables.
But it still irks me that these things -- good, nutritious things! -- have to cost so much each week.
*I have to buy two half-gallons of Miss Mouse's milk to have one at day care and one at home. No refillable containers allowed at school!
...but then I start breaking it down. Take beverages for example. We spend a lot of money every week on drinks. And we're not talking alcoholic drinks, here, folks. We never buy those. We don't keep soda on hand, either. No, I'm talking milk and orange juice and whatnot. Here's the breakdown of a typical week:
1 gallon organic skim milk -- $5.79
1 gallon organic whole milk -- $7.00*
1 gallon orange juice -- $3.49
1 bottle V8 Fusion -- $3.99
Grand Total: $20.27
Yeah, that's $20 A WEEK on beverages! Egad.
Now, could I cut down on this number? Sure. I choose to buy organic milk, despite the premium price, because I believe it's important from a health standpoint. I'll switch back to regular for me when I'm not pregnant, but the kiddos are staying on organic! And V8 Fusion is horribly expensive, but my fam's not good at eating vegetables.
But it still irks me that these things -- good, nutritious things! -- have to cost so much each week.
*I have to buy two half-gallons of Miss Mouse's milk to have one at day care and one at home. No refillable containers allowed at school!
Saturday, June 12, 2010
The Heat Is On
Today, my parents and I went to see Miss Saigon. Miss Saigon was one of the very first musical performances that I saw live on stage when I was in high school and I was absolutely captivated. I came back mesmerized, bought the CD, and proceeded to listen to it day and night. All I wanted for Christmas that year was to go again -- and my parents lovingly obliged.
That was ten years ago, and the show is as amazing as ever. If you come out of a production of Miss Saigon dry eyed, you have no soul. I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but that's just the way it is.
Here's a quick summary. The entire production was born out of a particularly heart-rending picture of a Vietnamese mother putting her half-blood child on a plane to go to America to live with his GI father. The story is set around the fall of Saigon and several years thereafter and has some stark things to say about the impact of the American presence in Vietnam.
Our star-crossed lovers (because it wouldn't be an opera if it weren't a tragedy) are Chris and Kim. Kim is a naive country girl who finds herself in a prostitution dance bar due to some rough circumstances. As luck would have it, on her first night on the job, she meets Chris, a disillusioned GI who falls in love with her innocence and beauty.
They spend a few weeks together, and he promises to take her back to the US with him as his wife. Fast forward three years (the show does, with very little warning). Something has gone awry. We meet Kim again, living in poverty in Vietnam and dreaming of the day that Chris returns. Chris meanwhile is living in America with a pretty blond wife.
Oops. What gives?
We also learn -- though Chris doesn't know -- that Kim bore him a son. The plot thickens.
In a flashback, we learn the whole story. Chris and Kim's blissful plans are torn apart by the sudden fall of Saigon. Chris and Kim are separated and she is unable to fight her way onto the army base to make the evacuation. He tries to go back for her but fails to find her and is whisked away in a helicopter (cool, cool scene).
Long story short, Chris learns of Kim's survival and of his son. He and Ellen (the wife) travel to Bangkok, where Kim is living to see her and try to make amends for leaving her. Kim's visions of a joyful reunion turn sour when she meets Ellen. Her desperate Plan B is for Chris and Ellen to take her son back to the States where he'll live a better life. But they're not so keen on this idea.
Sensing that the door is closing, Kim forces their hand. She shoots herself.
Yeah. See. I told you. Crying is not optional.
Miss Saigon has some of the most stunning gorgeous music I've ever seen and, when done well (which this was), the raw emotion of the production takes your breath away. If you haven't seen it, do so. Right now.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a CD to find...
That was ten years ago, and the show is as amazing as ever. If you come out of a production of Miss Saigon dry eyed, you have no soul. I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but that's just the way it is.
Here's a quick summary. The entire production was born out of a particularly heart-rending picture of a Vietnamese mother putting her half-blood child on a plane to go to America to live with his GI father. The story is set around the fall of Saigon and several years thereafter and has some stark things to say about the impact of the American presence in Vietnam.
Our star-crossed lovers (because it wouldn't be an opera if it weren't a tragedy) are Chris and Kim. Kim is a naive country girl who finds herself in a prostitution dance bar due to some rough circumstances. As luck would have it, on her first night on the job, she meets Chris, a disillusioned GI who falls in love with her innocence and beauty.
They spend a few weeks together, and he promises to take her back to the US with him as his wife. Fast forward three years (the show does, with very little warning). Something has gone awry. We meet Kim again, living in poverty in Vietnam and dreaming of the day that Chris returns. Chris meanwhile is living in America with a pretty blond wife.
Oops. What gives?
We also learn -- though Chris doesn't know -- that Kim bore him a son. The plot thickens.
In a flashback, we learn the whole story. Chris and Kim's blissful plans are torn apart by the sudden fall of Saigon. Chris and Kim are separated and she is unable to fight her way onto the army base to make the evacuation. He tries to go back for her but fails to find her and is whisked away in a helicopter (cool, cool scene).
Long story short, Chris learns of Kim's survival and of his son. He and Ellen (the wife) travel to Bangkok, where Kim is living to see her and try to make amends for leaving her. Kim's visions of a joyful reunion turn sour when she meets Ellen. Her desperate Plan B is for Chris and Ellen to take her son back to the States where he'll live a better life. But they're not so keen on this idea.
Sensing that the door is closing, Kim forces their hand. She shoots herself.
Yeah. See. I told you. Crying is not optional.
Miss Saigon has some of the most stunning gorgeous music I've ever seen and, when done well (which this was), the raw emotion of the production takes your breath away. If you haven't seen it, do so. Right now.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a CD to find...
Friday, June 11, 2010
Lines in the Sand
Miss Mouse has a new favorite game. It's called: "Let's see how much I can push the limits of my behavior at dinnertime."
It's a super fun game. There are several different iterations that she presents.
1) "Am I Done?" In this guessing game, Miss Mouse proclaims that she is done with her meal, allows her hands to be cleaned, then seems shocked when we take her food away and demands more. Sometimes, she gets all the way out of her chair and onto the floor, before deciding that she actually is still starving and starts clawing at other diners and squawking "More! More!"
2) "How'd That Happen?" This game is particularly fun for my hubby. In it, Miss Mouse gleefully upends her food dish (be it bowl or plate) onto the table. Or, if she's particularly worked up, onto the floor. Then she gives you a totally innocent stare as if to say "Gee, mom, what's that food doing on the floor?"
The other night, she managed to dump an entire bowl of marinara-sauced macaroni onto our beige carpet. I thought my poor, extremely tidy, husband might expire on the spot. The house still reeks of carpet cleaner, but I do think the worst of the stains came out. The killer thing is, I knew she was going to do it, and I just wasn't fast enough. She has freakishly quick reflexes when it involves mischievous behavior.
We're working out exactly what the appropriate response is to these shenanigans. An obvious answer is to just take away the food, remove her from her chair, then stand firm. But I worry about how much she eats and her protein intake and I hate to see her not eat dinner. Plus, she screams really really loud. So at the moment, her push-over parents have yet to draw a firm line in the sand.
But it's coming, Mouse. Oh, it's coming. You've been warned!
It's a super fun game. There are several different iterations that she presents.
1) "Am I Done?" In this guessing game, Miss Mouse proclaims that she is done with her meal, allows her hands to be cleaned, then seems shocked when we take her food away and demands more. Sometimes, she gets all the way out of her chair and onto the floor, before deciding that she actually is still starving and starts clawing at other diners and squawking "More! More!"
2) "How'd That Happen?" This game is particularly fun for my hubby. In it, Miss Mouse gleefully upends her food dish (be it bowl or plate) onto the table. Or, if she's particularly worked up, onto the floor. Then she gives you a totally innocent stare as if to say "Gee, mom, what's that food doing on the floor?"
The other night, she managed to dump an entire bowl of marinara-sauced macaroni onto our beige carpet. I thought my poor, extremely tidy, husband might expire on the spot. The house still reeks of carpet cleaner, but I do think the worst of the stains came out. The killer thing is, I knew she was going to do it, and I just wasn't fast enough. She has freakishly quick reflexes when it involves mischievous behavior.
We're working out exactly what the appropriate response is to these shenanigans. An obvious answer is to just take away the food, remove her from her chair, then stand firm. But I worry about how much she eats and her protein intake and I hate to see her not eat dinner. Plus, she screams really really loud. So at the moment, her push-over parents have yet to draw a firm line in the sand.
But it's coming, Mouse. Oh, it's coming. You've been warned!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Name Game
As I've mentioned, we are jealously guarding the chosen name of our son. But we've decided to use that secrecy for the greater good by hosting a fundraiser contest at Josh's church. That's right, it's time to play: "And He Shall Be Called." Guess the name of that baby!
Over the next three months, we're releasing a few clues to the parishioners who are being asked to guess the name. The "price" of each guess is a $5 donation to the church's renovation fund. Church members put down their name, their guess, and the date and put the slips in a jar. Whoever guesses the name right first wins a prize!
Now, I realize that many people just roll their eyes at the clue, given how many names there are in the Bible. But it does rule out quite a few names, I'll have you know. No Aiden. No Emmett. No Taylor. No Gregory. See? Lots of names right out the window.
Happy guessing!
Over the next three months, we're releasing a few clues to the parishioners who are being asked to guess the name. The "price" of each guess is a $5 donation to the church's renovation fund. Church members put down their name, their guess, and the date and put the slips in a jar. Whoever guesses the name right first wins a prize!
The first clue is:
The baby's name (and it is a bona fide name) appears somewhere in the Bible.
Now, I realize that many people just roll their eyes at the clue, given how many names there are in the Bible. But it does rule out quite a few names, I'll have you know. No Aiden. No Emmett. No Taylor. No Gregory. See? Lots of names right out the window.
Happy guessing!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Interloper
Miss Mouse had a play date on Sunday with a friend from school. Well, I have no idea if she and G. are actually friends. Mostly I wanted to have a play date with his mom. I actually "met" her on an online mom forum and it was a moment of "it's a small world" when we realized our kiddos were in daycare together.
In any case, the little dude and his mom came over for about an hour on Sunday afternoon. And I was shocked to watch my sweet, sociable girl spend the entire time running from one side of the room to another shrieking "MINE" at the top of her lungs every time he made a move toward one of her toys.
It was actually pretty funny. At one point, she retreated into her dog crate, only to have G. follow her in. I'll say this for her -- her lungs work!
Miss Mouse is a full-time daycare baby. She spends upwards of 50 hours a week in the company of other kids. She gets glowing reports on how well she listens and her ability to play nicely with other children...
...but all that goes out the window (it seems) when one of her "friends" sets foot on her home turf.
I never really bothered much with scheduling play dates for the very reason that Miss Mouse seemed plenty socialized from being at daycare. The moral of the story clearly is that we need to invite more interlopers over between now and September! Sharing her home with another baby is clearly something that takes practice.
In any case, the little dude and his mom came over for about an hour on Sunday afternoon. And I was shocked to watch my sweet, sociable girl spend the entire time running from one side of the room to another shrieking "MINE" at the top of her lungs every time he made a move toward one of her toys.
It was actually pretty funny. At one point, she retreated into her dog crate, only to have G. follow her in. I'll say this for her -- her lungs work!
Miss Mouse is a full-time daycare baby. She spends upwards of 50 hours a week in the company of other kids. She gets glowing reports on how well she listens and her ability to play nicely with other children...
...but all that goes out the window (it seems) when one of her "friends" sets foot on her home turf.
I never really bothered much with scheduling play dates for the very reason that Miss Mouse seemed plenty socialized from being at daycare. The moral of the story clearly is that we need to invite more interlopers over between now and September! Sharing her home with another baby is clearly something that takes practice.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Surfer Girl
Miss Mouse has aspirations of being a surfer. That we live in a decidedly non-beachy state concerns her not at all. Until such time as we move to California where she can catch some serious waves, Miss Mouse will practice her moves on the next best thing -- Daddy's tummy.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Mango Madness
Well, I did it. I bought the case of mangoes. There were 18 in there. Add in the three I'd bought individually, and I had 21 mangoes to munch my way through -- in short order, too, as they were all perfectly ripe when I bought them!
Fortunately, I'm up to the task. This weekend's meals have included:
French Toast with Mango and Blueberry Topping
Mango Chicken Salad in a Cheesy Pie Shell
Mango Red Pepper Salsa with Chips
(Said salsa will also appear on Tuesday as a topping for pork chops)
Mango Rice Pudding
And, of course, we just ate a few of them straight up. It was a pretty fabulous weekend, culinarily speaking, though my snooty daughter wanted nothing to do with the succulent yellow bites of heavenly goodness that we were wolfing down. Her loss! But now all the mangoes are gone and I think I may go into withdrawal.
Sex and the City 2 -- A Mom's Perspective
I went to see Sex and the City 2 last night with two of my girlfriends. We three had been to see the first movie and decided to reunite for round two, despite the near-universal feedback we'd heard that the movie was awful.
Technically, there were five of us there, if you count Porthos and my friend Mandi's soon-to-be little one. So we made a good festive crowd.
Bottom line? Wow. Bad movie. Insane and thin plot line, questionable acting, general ridiculousness. But there's something fun about watching characters you've grown attached to, even if they're being ridiculous. And then there's the clothes -- which I happen to think often look horrific, but it's amazing to see what they come up with.
I actually thought the best parts of the movies were the couple scenes focused on Charlotte's struggles with motherhood. Shows where I'm at in my life, huh? But seriously, those were probably the most real moments of the whole movie.
Charlotte has dreamed her whole life of being a mother and at this point in the story has two daughters. And it's hard. Really hard. Her youngest screams all the time, the older girl gets into things. Parenting is hard. There's a scene where Charlotte is just about to lose it and closes herself in her pantry while she struggles to regain control, with tears running down her face. It was pretty spot-on.
Later in the movie, there's a scene where Miranda and Charlotte are having some alone time, and Miranda forces/encourages Charlotte to let down her facade of perfect motherhood and verbalize her struggles. It's hard for Charlotte to utter the words that she is enjoying her time away from her children, but you can see the weight lift. Miranda meanwhile confesses that as much as she loves her son, being a mother isn't "enough" for her, and she misses her job.
It was good to see such moments of unflinching parental honesty mixed into a movie that was about as unreal as you can get!!
Technically, there were five of us there, if you count Porthos and my friend Mandi's soon-to-be little one. So we made a good festive crowd.
Bottom line? Wow. Bad movie. Insane and thin plot line, questionable acting, general ridiculousness. But there's something fun about watching characters you've grown attached to, even if they're being ridiculous. And then there's the clothes -- which I happen to think often look horrific, but it's amazing to see what they come up with.
I actually thought the best parts of the movies were the couple scenes focused on Charlotte's struggles with motherhood. Shows where I'm at in my life, huh? But seriously, those were probably the most real moments of the whole movie.
Charlotte has dreamed her whole life of being a mother and at this point in the story has two daughters. And it's hard. Really hard. Her youngest screams all the time, the older girl gets into things. Parenting is hard. There's a scene where Charlotte is just about to lose it and closes herself in her pantry while she struggles to regain control, with tears running down her face. It was pretty spot-on.
Later in the movie, there's a scene where Miranda and Charlotte are having some alone time, and Miranda forces/encourages Charlotte to let down her facade of perfect motherhood and verbalize her struggles. It's hard for Charlotte to utter the words that she is enjoying her time away from her children, but you can see the weight lift. Miranda meanwhile confesses that as much as she loves her son, being a mother isn't "enough" for her, and she misses her job.
It was good to see such moments of unflinching parental honesty mixed into a movie that was about as unreal as you can get!!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Next Stop: NA
If, somewhere down the road, my child (God forbid) turns out to be a drug addict, I will look back at these early days of her life and say to myself -- "yup, we saw the signs."
Miss Mouse loves medicine.
I mean, she looooves medicine.
Tylenol. Amoxicillin. Augmentin. Omnicef. You name it, she's taken it -- gleefully.
Right now, she's doing a course of Augmentin for a sinus infection. She takes it twice a day and I announce to her -- "Time for medicine!"
At which point she bounces up and down enthusiastically, smiles broadly, and echoes back "Med-cin! Med-cin!" She then requests more when the one paltry syringe-ful is gone.
Now, I've never tasted liquid Augmentin, but I'm willing to wager by smell alone that the stuff doesn't taste like Nutella. I have no idea why she's so excited about. But I am grateful. It's certainly made her endless rounds of antibiotics go smoothly!
Miss Mouse loves medicine.
I mean, she looooves medicine.
Tylenol. Amoxicillin. Augmentin. Omnicef. You name it, she's taken it -- gleefully.
Right now, she's doing a course of Augmentin for a sinus infection. She takes it twice a day and I announce to her -- "Time for medicine!"
At which point she bounces up and down enthusiastically, smiles broadly, and echoes back "Med-cin! Med-cin!" She then requests more when the one paltry syringe-ful is gone.
Now, I've never tasted liquid Augmentin, but I'm willing to wager by smell alone that the stuff doesn't taste like Nutella. I have no idea why she's so excited about. But I am grateful. It's certainly made her endless rounds of antibiotics go smoothly!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Porthos Update
It's funny for me to think about the fact that when I was pregnant with Miss Mouse, I blogged almost exclusively about being pregnant. This time around, I realized that I've devoted very little blog space to the wee guy inside. It's just one of those things about your second child, I guess!
But here's a little update on how our buddy Porthos is doing and how I'm doing and how we're doing together.
I'll hit the 25 week mark tomorrow and Sir Porthos is about the size of a rutabaga. He seems happy in there and continues to bounce around with wild abandon. Wild Abandon. Seriously, the kid is always on the move.
At the last checkup, the doctor said he's in breach position at the moment -- butt down. That could explain why the kicks are feel are so low. I'm always a bit taken aback to feel him kicking just above my pubic bone. Even having been through this before, you think of pregnancy as taking place in your stomach, when that's not the case at all! Add to that the fact that his feet are pointing down and the movement isn't at all where I expect it to be.
According to my scale at home, I've gained 15 pounds thus far, which I'm pretty sure is less than I had packed on with Miss Mouse. I'm showing but not wildly and my running joke is that Miss Mouse keeps me too busy to put on weight! And I think that's probably true to a certain degree. I'm far more active with this pregnancy -- who has time for naps? -- and I'm eating fairly healthy, especially at home where I don't want her to see (and mooch) junk food.
And that's the Porthos Profile for today!
But here's a little update on how our buddy Porthos is doing and how I'm doing and how we're doing together.
I'll hit the 25 week mark tomorrow and Sir Porthos is about the size of a rutabaga. He seems happy in there and continues to bounce around with wild abandon. Wild Abandon. Seriously, the kid is always on the move.
At the last checkup, the doctor said he's in breach position at the moment -- butt down. That could explain why the kicks are feel are so low. I'm always a bit taken aback to feel him kicking just above my pubic bone. Even having been through this before, you think of pregnancy as taking place in your stomach, when that's not the case at all! Add to that the fact that his feet are pointing down and the movement isn't at all where I expect it to be.
According to my scale at home, I've gained 15 pounds thus far, which I'm pretty sure is less than I had packed on with Miss Mouse. I'm showing but not wildly and my running joke is that Miss Mouse keeps me too busy to put on weight! And I think that's probably true to a certain degree. I'm far more active with this pregnancy -- who has time for naps? -- and I'm eating fairly healthy, especially at home where I don't want her to see (and mooch) junk food.
And that's the Porthos Profile for today!
Champagne Mangoes
Oh joy. Oh bliss. It is champagne mango season. Apparently. Whole Foods has them by the thousands and is selling them for the ridiculously low price of $10 a crate. Somehow, I had forgotten how amazing they are and limited myself to three individual pieces of fruit today.
Tomorrow I shall be returning to buy an entire crate, which I plan to live off for the next few days.
I'm not sure what it is about the wee yellow champagne mangoes that makes them so heavenly. They're considerably smaller than their orange and green brethren and perfectly sweet. And perhaps this is just luck, but I've never had one that didn't ripen correctly (a constant problem with regular mangoes).
My biggest issue now is that I can't immediately call to mind cooking recipes that use mango. I know I have a few that I love, but can't remember what they are or where they are. I vow to round up all my mango recipes in one place so that I am ready for this type of event in the future!
Tomorrow I shall be returning to buy an entire crate, which I plan to live off for the next few days.
I'm not sure what it is about the wee yellow champagne mangoes that makes them so heavenly. They're considerably smaller than their orange and green brethren and perfectly sweet. And perhaps this is just luck, but I've never had one that didn't ripen correctly (a constant problem with regular mangoes).
My biggest issue now is that I can't immediately call to mind cooking recipes that use mango. I know I have a few that I love, but can't remember what they are or where they are. I vow to round up all my mango recipes in one place so that I am ready for this type of event in the future!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Games of Chance
The local cloth diaper store (YAY Happy Baby Company) has a great presence on Facebook and has started doing regular discussion forums from which they randomly select a commenter to win a prize -- a diaper or a gift certificate, something like that.
I have duly been sharing my two cents about diaper rash, unsolicited baby advice, and diaper tips over the last few weeks. I enjoy reading other people's thoughts and comments, but the process is also driving me a wee bit nuts.
The heart of the problem is my competitive spirit. When I enter a contest of any kind, I fully expect to win. It's just who I am. And thus games of chance cause me great emotional anguish because a) I have no control over the outcome and b) I rarely ever win.
It's horrible.
I've entered a half dozen or so of the diaper contests. And I haven't won. Why? Why? WHY?? Curse you, random number generator! I'm sure my posts were more helpful and/or funnier than some people's. Shouldn't that count for something?
I have duly been sharing my two cents about diaper rash, unsolicited baby advice, and diaper tips over the last few weeks. I enjoy reading other people's thoughts and comments, but the process is also driving me a wee bit nuts.
The heart of the problem is my competitive spirit. When I enter a contest of any kind, I fully expect to win. It's just who I am. And thus games of chance cause me great emotional anguish because a) I have no control over the outcome and b) I rarely ever win.
It's horrible.
I've entered a half dozen or so of the diaper contests. And I haven't won. Why? Why? WHY?? Curse you, random number generator! I'm sure my posts were more helpful and/or funnier than some people's. Shouldn't that count for something?
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