If you are the parent of a toddler, there may be some important questions that you have been asking yourself lately- though if you dig deep enough you may find that you already know the answers to them:
Where are all of the refrigerator magnets?
Under the fridge of course, fulfilling their actual intended function of attracting dust bunnies.
Do farts have mommies? It is possible to categorize farts into mommies and babies? And if so, do they miss each other? Does the baby fart cry for its mommy fart?
Yes. The answer is yes.
Why do I seem to be in the kitchen all the time?
Because your toddler keeps asking for noodles- breakfast lunch and dinner, but you are supposed to rotate types of noodles.
“No, not these noodles.”
"But these are the ones I made."
“I can’t have these noodles. It's dangerous”
"..."
Do I really sound like that?
Yes. You absolutely do. Your mini play-back recorder has a flawless representation of you. Scary?
Will she ever stop peeing in the bed?
Yes.
Will it be soon?
No.
I’m starting to forget the times I actually took quiet hot relaxing baths- was that really real?
Yes. Hold on to that happy place for as long as you can. It will come again someday, and until then, the hope shall get you through the tepid bubble-wrought splash-fests of today.
Are my eardrums still intact?
For now. That awaits to be seen for sure in about 50 years….
Will I ever get more than 6 inches of bed to sleep on?
Yes, but for now, it’s payback time. Remember you used to be the bed hog.
Why does my toddler have more pairs of shoes than I do?
Some things in life are just not fair…
When she 'wakes up' after we've been laying in bed for 45 minutes and says, "Get up, I'm hungry." Do I have to?
Yes. Duty calls, and you are a bad mommy if you ignore it. Or at least that's how I justify getting up to make noodles that will not be eaten but used as lotion on tiny arms at 11:00 at night.
At least I tried.
Happy noodling,
~Momrit
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Friday, August 15, 2014
Going Solo
My grandmother called while I was getting ready to go to the movies- I said I couldn't talk for too long because I was going to the movies by myself.
"Oh, why are you going alone?" She asked in a sympathetic voice.
"No no- It's a good thing!" I said fervently. She didn't want to keep me from my showing so we said goodbye and I headed out the door.
"Okay sweetie, are you gonna be a good girl for papa? Do you need to go pee pee?"
"No." Came the sweet reply. I wondered which question she was answering.
"Sweetheart, if you're going, just go or you'll be late." My husband said from behind the computer.
I couldn't help but feel giddy as I walked out the door carrying only my purse (less than 10lbs) and my car keys. Three pairs of emergency undies, one wet-bag, two pairs of emergency pants, one emergency shirt, sunscreen for the odd occasion, snacks, wipes, toys, comb, extra hair-ties, water bottle, juice pack and extra pair of shoes just seem like the bare necessities these days, so I had a bit of a naked feeling also as I got into the car and started the engine. With an empty car seat, no babbling, screaming, pointing out of random things, and certainly no odor of freshly opened crackers, I was on my way to the Thursday matinee. I'll admit- I actually giggled to myself in the car. I'm a staunch advocate of Attachment Parenting, yet I do wonder when the phase of "bye-mom!" really swings into effect.
I parked the car and walked in like a normal human- not having to lug a foot dragging toddler or play "I'm going to go limp and hang on your hand in the parking lot".
I bought my single ticket and walked right past the concessions- I did have my grapes in my Elmo tupperware after all.
I was the first in the empty theatre, apparently with lots of time to spare. I walked to the middle row and sat down, appraising the view. I changed my mind unselfconsciously and decided to try a different row. Up two stairs and right in the center I plopped down and waited. It was so quiet, I could actually notice myself breathing. I was in awe that I had absolutely no reason to run up and down the stairs or to the bathroom 16 times. At first I just read the small town advertisements that silently flicked across the screen. Once they began to repeat, I tried to just relax and do nothing. I thought to myself, it's actually tranquil enough to really have a chance to meditate. I closed my eyes and wondered at the silence. It made me sleepy. I guess I'm hard wired now to sleep when the noise stops. When I opened my eyes, I noted the admonishing ad on the screen: "Babies are cute... But if yours is crying please leave the theatre."
Fair enough I suppose- they aren't banning babies, just telling parents that there's no point in trying to go to the movies because they'll spend 45% of The Hobbit in the hallway bouncing and shushing. If by miraculous chance you do get your baby to sleep, it will most likely be twenty minutes before the movie ends and then you'll have to move and that starts the whole thing over again.
Another sole patron of the 4:35 matinee enters the theatre which shifts my attention back from mom-thoughts. I watch quietly as he chooses a seat, sits, then gets up to find a "better" one just as I had done.
It seemed to me that one should instigate small talk in this sort of situation, two people in an empty theatre waiting for the film to roll, but something held me back from polluting the beautiful silence.
The minutes dragged on and I was silently thanking not having to entertain anyone but myself.
When I could bear it no longer, I asked the other patron for the time, as it seemed later than it should. Seconds later the previews began, and I awkwardly muttered something to the effect of, "...just when I was starting to wonder." Silence greeted me from the other row and I ruled out any further comments. Nothing worse than going to a movie alone only to be bombarded by a Chatty Cathy.
About halfway through the action packed "Guardians of the Galaxy", I found myself wondering what my hubby and daughter were doing without me at home. Was she crying? Did she pee her pants? Are they having a tea-party or watching Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood?
I must say that I enjoyed the film and also my "me time", but the minute the credits began to roll I hopped up out of my seat and briskly walked out of the theatre to my car. As I drove the short trip home, I wondered how I would be greeted at the door. I certainly didn't expect what came.
I turned the key in the lock and walked through the door, expecting to hear a "Mommy!!" but instead got a big "BOO!!" from behind the door.
AH yes, favorite pass-time of the marital lifestyle- scaring your spouse when they least expect it. They were both rewarded with my brief shout and slight jump. Ha.Ha. Teaching the next generation the important things in life- like being able to give your mom a mild heart-rate increase.
All in all, mission success hopefully to be repeated soon.
"Oh, why are you going alone?" She asked in a sympathetic voice.
"No no- It's a good thing!" I said fervently. She didn't want to keep me from my showing so we said goodbye and I headed out the door.
"Okay sweetie, are you gonna be a good girl for papa? Do you need to go pee pee?"
"No." Came the sweet reply. I wondered which question she was answering.
"Sweetheart, if you're going, just go or you'll be late." My husband said from behind the computer.
I couldn't help but feel giddy as I walked out the door carrying only my purse (less than 10lbs) and my car keys. Three pairs of emergency undies, one wet-bag, two pairs of emergency pants, one emergency shirt, sunscreen for the odd occasion, snacks, wipes, toys, comb, extra hair-ties, water bottle, juice pack and extra pair of shoes just seem like the bare necessities these days, so I had a bit of a naked feeling also as I got into the car and started the engine. With an empty car seat, no babbling, screaming, pointing out of random things, and certainly no odor of freshly opened crackers, I was on my way to the Thursday matinee. I'll admit- I actually giggled to myself in the car. I'm a staunch advocate of Attachment Parenting, yet I do wonder when the phase of "bye-mom!" really swings into effect.
I parked the car and walked in like a normal human- not having to lug a foot dragging toddler or play "I'm going to go limp and hang on your hand in the parking lot".
I bought my single ticket and walked right past the concessions- I did have my grapes in my Elmo tupperware after all.
I was the first in the empty theatre, apparently with lots of time to spare. I walked to the middle row and sat down, appraising the view. I changed my mind unselfconsciously and decided to try a different row. Up two stairs and right in the center I plopped down and waited. It was so quiet, I could actually notice myself breathing. I was in awe that I had absolutely no reason to run up and down the stairs or to the bathroom 16 times. At first I just read the small town advertisements that silently flicked across the screen. Once they began to repeat, I tried to just relax and do nothing. I thought to myself, it's actually tranquil enough to really have a chance to meditate. I closed my eyes and wondered at the silence. It made me sleepy. I guess I'm hard wired now to sleep when the noise stops. When I opened my eyes, I noted the admonishing ad on the screen: "Babies are cute... But if yours is crying please leave the theatre."
Fair enough I suppose- they aren't banning babies, just telling parents that there's no point in trying to go to the movies because they'll spend 45% of The Hobbit in the hallway bouncing and shushing. If by miraculous chance you do get your baby to sleep, it will most likely be twenty minutes before the movie ends and then you'll have to move and that starts the whole thing over again.
Another sole patron of the 4:35 matinee enters the theatre which shifts my attention back from mom-thoughts. I watch quietly as he chooses a seat, sits, then gets up to find a "better" one just as I had done.
It seemed to me that one should instigate small talk in this sort of situation, two people in an empty theatre waiting for the film to roll, but something held me back from polluting the beautiful silence.
The minutes dragged on and I was silently thanking not having to entertain anyone but myself.
When I could bear it no longer, I asked the other patron for the time, as it seemed later than it should. Seconds later the previews began, and I awkwardly muttered something to the effect of, "...just when I was starting to wonder." Silence greeted me from the other row and I ruled out any further comments. Nothing worse than going to a movie alone only to be bombarded by a Chatty Cathy.
About halfway through the action packed "Guardians of the Galaxy", I found myself wondering what my hubby and daughter were doing without me at home. Was she crying? Did she pee her pants? Are they having a tea-party or watching Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood?
I must say that I enjoyed the film and also my "me time", but the minute the credits began to roll I hopped up out of my seat and briskly walked out of the theatre to my car. As I drove the short trip home, I wondered how I would be greeted at the door. I certainly didn't expect what came.
I turned the key in the lock and walked through the door, expecting to hear a "Mommy!!" but instead got a big "BOO!!" from behind the door.
AH yes, favorite pass-time of the marital lifestyle- scaring your spouse when they least expect it. They were both rewarded with my brief shout and slight jump. Ha.Ha. Teaching the next generation the important things in life- like being able to give your mom a mild heart-rate increase.
All in all, mission success hopefully to be repeated soon.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
The aforementioned doughnut obsession
I haven't had a doughnut in 8 months.
These are the types of things I miss when I'm out of the country. The more I think about it, the more I want one. The things I try to avoid like the plague at home suddenly become the most craved when in a gastronomically diverse environment.
Sad really. I mean, this isn't to say that I wouldn't also love quinoa, or a good homemade salad with all my favorite fixings on it, but there's just nothing like an American doughnut. Even if it doesn't taste as good as I thought it would before I ate it. For some reason, they always seem to dissapoint, but I always want another one eventually.
Here's the catch. 8 months with no doughnut- 3 months with easy access but good self control, and 4 months with zero access and ever mounting delusions of deliciousness, ending in one month of access but putting it off to try and eat healthily, then finding out that I have Psoriasis and CAN'T EAT THEM!
N'uff said. This is silly.
Up way too late pondering doughnuts,
~Momrit
These are the types of things I miss when I'm out of the country. The more I think about it, the more I want one. The things I try to avoid like the plague at home suddenly become the most craved when in a gastronomically diverse environment.
Sad really. I mean, this isn't to say that I wouldn't also love quinoa, or a good homemade salad with all my favorite fixings on it, but there's just nothing like an American doughnut. Even if it doesn't taste as good as I thought it would before I ate it. For some reason, they always seem to dissapoint, but I always want another one eventually.
Here's the catch. 8 months with no doughnut- 3 months with easy access but good self control, and 4 months with zero access and ever mounting delusions of deliciousness, ending in one month of access but putting it off to try and eat healthily, then finding out that I have Psoriasis and CAN'T EAT THEM!
N'uff said. This is silly.
Up way too late pondering doughnuts,
A sandwich, a toddler, and a very poor decision.
First of all, I'd like to take a moment to pat myself on the back for keeping up with my lifelong tradition of abandoning any writing project I start for months at a time. Yes, good job me. I said I wouldn't with my blog, but I did it anyway. Woot.
Now that the formalities are out of the way, I will attempt to justify and excuse my absence and delinquency to writing by telling you the story of what happened shortly after I stopped writing due to apathy and a lot of outer circumstances.
Once upon a time (about 7 months ago), we took a trip to India. I brought my computer, thinking of the convenience, and how much writing I could (not) get done. It also happened to have Baby Signing Time (TM?) stored on it, which was a major plus. One fine day, a few weeks into our trip, I began to feel a craving for some good ole' American food, so I went to the newly opened Subway restaurant in the heart of Punjab (renowned for its delicious Indian cuisine) and ordered a foot long cheese sandwich. Perhaps some of you know what it is like to tire of the local fare, no matter how delicious it is. It is just something that happens after one spends enough time abroad, and it must be dealt with or it will turn into some sort of doughnut obsession (more on that coming soon). Aaannyway, I opted to bring my slice of home, home with me to covet and enjoy rapturously alone in my room and then put my daughter to sleep for her nap. I will regret that poor choice possibly for years to come.
Of course by the time I arrived back home, my dear little one was prime for her nap and as I brought her upstairs, I decided to let her watch her Signing Time whilst I indulged in my sandwich. I reasoned that another 5 to 10 minutes of wakefulness wouldn't hurt, and that I could avoid letting my sandwich get soggy while I laid with her for an hour and a half trying to get her to roll over and let me go.
So I turned on my laptop, set it on our flat topped laundry bucket (about 2.5 feet off the floor), and switched on an episode of her favorite show. I then turned my attention to satisfying my hunger and enjoying cheese sandwichy bliss- I had turned away for a mere split second, when I saw out of the corner of my eye my daughter reach for the computer. I told her not to touch the keyboard, and out of spite she slapped it and it fell- seemingly in slow motion and hit the floor on its side, still playing. I had lunged out to try and catch it but was too late. My very expensive piece of technology now lay on its side, screen twitching and displaying a worrying sequence of red lines, all the while making a clicking sound like a broken record. DOOM! DOOM! DOOOOOOOOM!!!
And all for a sandwich.
The emotions welled up like a flash flood- anger, rage, exasperation, self-loathing, despair, self-pity, incredulity, shock- I knew it was all my fault, and I could not, and did not turn my slew of moods on my child. She knew not what she had done.
I had hope- a glimmer of hope that all was not lost.
I tried closing the program. No response. I force-quit, and opened iPhoto, I perused my photographs (possibly for the last time). It seemed to do O.K. but something wasn't right. I finally had to force-quit everything, and then shut it down, for good. My hard drive had crashed. It was the end. Everything was gone- evaporated like the morning dew on a hot sunny day.
Alas, you think to yourself- all was not lost, for surely I had backed up my data onto a hard drive of some sort?
Almost. Procrastination had gotten the better of me. Let me leave it at that, for it is still a sore subject. Pictures of our daughter's first day in this world (cruel as it can be), pictures of our dog which had recently passed away, home footage of our daughter's first steps... all lost...
Kick myself? Oh, you can believe I did. After I was done wallowing in self pity and crying for half an hour. Yes. I am that much of a dork, I cried over a broken hard drive. But who wouldn't in this day and age? So much of our lives is stored digitally, we almost don't have to remember things anymore. It's a precarious path to walk.
Convenience = Eventual Devastation.
After a few days, when I was able to think rationally, my husband took me to have my computer checked out. Luckily* it was only the hard drive, and once replaced, I would be able to use my computer again. Months later, we returned from India and I was able to re-install my operating system and begin using my computer. Pictures backlogged on my phone from months of travel finally had a destination. This time, I backed everything up. The first day.
Since this whole experience befell me (through stupid moves of my own doing) I have become somewhat of an advocate for data backup, and I would like to think that I have made a difference in the lives of others (mom, dad) in saving them from a terrible, similar fate.
So, that is the long excuse, or at least part of it, for why I abandoned my blog for nearly half a year. I hope to thwart myself and keep on writing- at least for a while this time.
And the moral of the story is: Never let a tasty sandwich take priority over nap time, or the safety of your electronics. Even if you are afraid it will get soggy.
It's a tragic and expensive lesson.
Back again,
~Momrit
Now that the formalities are out of the way, I will attempt to justify and excuse my absence and delinquency to writing by telling you the story of what happened shortly after I stopped writing due to apathy and a lot of outer circumstances.
Once upon a time (about 7 months ago), we took a trip to India. I brought my computer, thinking of the convenience, and how much writing I could (not) get done. It also happened to have Baby Signing Time (TM?) stored on it, which was a major plus. One fine day, a few weeks into our trip, I began to feel a craving for some good ole' American food, so I went to the newly opened Subway restaurant in the heart of Punjab (renowned for its delicious Indian cuisine) and ordered a foot long cheese sandwich. Perhaps some of you know what it is like to tire of the local fare, no matter how delicious it is. It is just something that happens after one spends enough time abroad, and it must be dealt with or it will turn into some sort of doughnut obsession (more on that coming soon). Aaannyway, I opted to bring my slice of home, home with me to covet and enjoy rapturously alone in my room and then put my daughter to sleep for her nap. I will regret that poor choice possibly for years to come.
Of course by the time I arrived back home, my dear little one was prime for her nap and as I brought her upstairs, I decided to let her watch her Signing Time whilst I indulged in my sandwich. I reasoned that another 5 to 10 minutes of wakefulness wouldn't hurt, and that I could avoid letting my sandwich get soggy while I laid with her for an hour and a half trying to get her to roll over and let me go.
So I turned on my laptop, set it on our flat topped laundry bucket (about 2.5 feet off the floor), and switched on an episode of her favorite show. I then turned my attention to satisfying my hunger and enjoying cheese sandwichy bliss- I had turned away for a mere split second, when I saw out of the corner of my eye my daughter reach for the computer. I told her not to touch the keyboard, and out of spite she slapped it and it fell- seemingly in slow motion and hit the floor on its side, still playing. I had lunged out to try and catch it but was too late. My very expensive piece of technology now lay on its side, screen twitching and displaying a worrying sequence of red lines, all the while making a clicking sound like a broken record. DOOM! DOOM! DOOOOOOOOM!!!
And all for a sandwich.
The emotions welled up like a flash flood- anger, rage, exasperation, self-loathing, despair, self-pity, incredulity, shock- I knew it was all my fault, and I could not, and did not turn my slew of moods on my child. She knew not what she had done.
I had hope- a glimmer of hope that all was not lost.
I tried closing the program. No response. I force-quit, and opened iPhoto, I perused my photographs (possibly for the last time). It seemed to do O.K. but something wasn't right. I finally had to force-quit everything, and then shut it down, for good. My hard drive had crashed. It was the end. Everything was gone- evaporated like the morning dew on a hot sunny day.
Alas, you think to yourself- all was not lost, for surely I had backed up my data onto a hard drive of some sort?
Almost. Procrastination had gotten the better of me. Let me leave it at that, for it is still a sore subject. Pictures of our daughter's first day in this world (cruel as it can be), pictures of our dog which had recently passed away, home footage of our daughter's first steps... all lost...
Kick myself? Oh, you can believe I did. After I was done wallowing in self pity and crying for half an hour. Yes. I am that much of a dork, I cried over a broken hard drive. But who wouldn't in this day and age? So much of our lives is stored digitally, we almost don't have to remember things anymore. It's a precarious path to walk.
Convenience = Eventual Devastation.
After a few days, when I was able to think rationally, my husband took me to have my computer checked out. Luckily* it was only the hard drive, and once replaced, I would be able to use my computer again. Months later, we returned from India and I was able to re-install my operating system and begin using my computer. Pictures backlogged on my phone from months of travel finally had a destination. This time, I backed everything up. The first day.
Since this whole experience befell me (through stupid moves of my own doing) I have become somewhat of an advocate for data backup, and I would like to think that I have made a difference in the lives of others (mom, dad) in saving them from a terrible, similar fate.
So, that is the long excuse, or at least part of it, for why I abandoned my blog for nearly half a year. I hope to thwart myself and keep on writing- at least for a while this time.
And the moral of the story is: Never let a tasty sandwich take priority over nap time, or the safety of your electronics. Even if you are afraid it will get soggy.
It's a tragic and expensive lesson.
Back again,
~Momrit
*Alas, it really could have been worse, if one can imagine such a thing.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
More coming soon...
I am packing our suitcases for a big adventure. Each time I turn around the contents are all over the floor! My little "helper" is doing her job as I try to do mine. There will be tales from the road very soon, so thanks for reading and keep checking back!
Love to all,
~Momrit
Love to all,
~Momrit
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Spit out that Crayon...NOW!
Though my formal schooling is coming to a close, I am finding that my Education is just beginning. This is the type of education where you may never know what grade you will get, or if your blood sweat and tears paid off. This education springs new subjects and curriculums upon you at the most unexpected times, sometimes piled on top of one another and it is literally a sink or swim type classroom all of the time.
One of the beloved terrors of big kid school is the slow discovery of how toxic the world is to oneself and one's family. There really seems to be danger or toxicity at every turn, and sometimes it is too late before you find out (and that's often just by chance).
Just today I was halfheartedly telling my toddler to stop sucking on the crayons!
I say halfheartedly because I figured, well they can't be that bad... just wax and paper. The most I worried was that she could trip and choke or something of immediate consequence, but she is a generally well coordinated child who doesn't swallow objects- just tastes them. Fast forward to bedtime after she drifts off to sleep and I am browsing the web on my phone before bed. On Facebook I am reading a comment about amniocentesis tests and there is mention about cadmium and mercury in crayons. WAIT- WHAAAT??!! Dang it! Is there nothing sacred left in this world? Not even 'ye old crayon is safe anymore?? Of course this prompted an immediate research project about poison crayons which (long story short) indicated only certain colors contained these substances (Indigo, Blue Violet, Red Violet and Violet), but that many and most pigments used are not healthy to be exposed to, and that most crayons are made of paraffin wax -a petroleum product- that is also not healthy to have in contact with one's skin a lot. I did manage to find some momma-made 100% natural beeswax crayons with pure and non-toxic pigments, but sadly the array of colors was limited to 5. What? No "macaroni n' cheese" color? Lol, it's probably radioactive anyway...
So, will I go and throw away our crayons tomorrow? Probably not. I hate throwing things away (unless they are moldy or have been cluttering up a desk for too long), and I see value in using crayons, but I will say that no more crayons are going in the mouth of my baby and I may be anal enough to remove the violet, indigo, blue violet, and red violet. Life lasts a long time (in the best case scenario), and I would rather have incomplete rainbow drawings hanging on the fridge than find out that I have inadvertently exposed my dear one to toxic substances in the guise of scribbling.
I found another mother's blog who had better information which can be seen at: http://mommax6.blogspot.com/2012/08/mercury-in-crayola-crayons.html for those who are concerned about the crayons.
Happy coloring,
~Momrit
One of the beloved terrors of big kid school is the slow discovery of how toxic the world is to oneself and one's family. There really seems to be danger or toxicity at every turn, and sometimes it is too late before you find out (and that's often just by chance).
Just today I was halfheartedly telling my toddler to stop sucking on the crayons!
I say halfheartedly because I figured, well they can't be that bad... just wax and paper. The most I worried was that she could trip and choke or something of immediate consequence, but she is a generally well coordinated child who doesn't swallow objects- just tastes them. Fast forward to bedtime after she drifts off to sleep and I am browsing the web on my phone before bed. On Facebook I am reading a comment about amniocentesis tests and there is mention about cadmium and mercury in crayons. WAIT- WHAAAT??!! Dang it! Is there nothing sacred left in this world? Not even 'ye old crayon is safe anymore?? Of course this prompted an immediate research project about poison crayons which (long story short) indicated only certain colors contained these substances (Indigo, Blue Violet, Red Violet and Violet), but that many and most pigments used are not healthy to be exposed to, and that most crayons are made of paraffin wax -a petroleum product- that is also not healthy to have in contact with one's skin a lot. I did manage to find some momma-made 100% natural beeswax crayons with pure and non-toxic pigments, but sadly the array of colors was limited to 5. What? No "macaroni n' cheese" color? Lol, it's probably radioactive anyway...
I found another mother's blog who had better information which can be seen at: http://mommax6.blogspot.com/2012/08/mercury-in-crayola-crayons.html for those who are concerned about the crayons.
Happy coloring,
~Momrit
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Memo to Mom
Hi Mom.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm teething. I know you have been racking your brain for legitimate reasons for me to have no appetite, whine all the time, pull at your clothing, put non-edibles in my mouth, and scream at the slightest offense. I just made it easy and told you. Now you can take a deep breath and reassess how you are dealing with me. Usually I have no complaints (besides being forced to wear clothes), but as of late, I would like to point out some of your behavioral flaws.
Firstly, when I am busy doing something fun like tasting the refrigerator magnets or stuffing my cheeks with pistachio shells like a squirrel, do not start your address with, "NO!!!!" it really sends the wrong message, and quite frankly rubs me the wrong way. This is why I reply with an earsplitting scream and as pouty of a face as I can muster.
Secondly, when I make my most injured face (the one where you can see all eight of my teeth) do not start to laugh. I don't care if it's some sort of therapeutic release from exasperation or if you just need a good slap, just don't do it. So bad for my budding sense of self esteem. Just because I can go from smiles to baby troll face in milliseconds does not mean that you shouldn't immediately adjust your handling of the situation. Now I know a common belief among you adult people is that if a poor baby (like myself) is not shedding tears, then its not an urgent situation, but let me just dispel that awful notion from your head. In fact, sometimes a non-tear situation is even more dire than bonking my head on the table when I stand up underneath it. And yes, I knew the table top was there... I just forgot momentarily. I cried because I was embarrassed- not shocked. You see, a non-tear situation could be as simple as me wailing at your knees because you were handling "hot" things in the kitchen and refused to pick me up even after I demanded "Up, UPPPPF" twenty three times in varying degrees of insistence/distress. I actually had to wait there on the floor for all of 6 minutes whilst you puttered around making food that I was about to vehemently reject anyway.
While I am thinking about food, I wanted to remind you not to bother to make any for me because I won't eat it anyway. I am so repelled by the thought right now that I have to go drink some bathwater (sans bubbles please- I've had gas lately).
Also, you should know that your conduct yesterday was utterly deplorable. We were in a public place, and you dared to try and get me to eat. I don't care that you ordered me my very own Quesadilla with a side of beans and Spanish rice. Did I ask for it? NO (just learned that word- so handy). I didn't even ask for your strawberry cheesecake. What, you think that because you willfully withhold sweets from me that I'll immediately cave and eat them when offered?! Do you even know me?!
That you had the heart to let Papa smear some on my lips to get me to taste it was a real slap in the face! I hope you enjoyed watching me sputter away every minuscule particle and then spew some drool out just for good measure. You must have, because I noticed you couldn't stop laughing even after Papa advised you against it. You claimed to have been laughing with me but did you see my face? It was not laughing. Not hungry means (say it with me now) "NOT HUNGRY". I thought they taught this stuff in Parent-Ed. Oh wait- that is a course scattered throughout a myriad of websites and support groups on the internet- many of which aren't helpful at all and disperse bad advice and recipes.
So I have an idea. Why don't you go eat some chocolate and do some jumping jacks- I'm thinking of having a chocolate milkshake later. Oh, was that too crude? I didn't think so, I mean I am talking to the one who voluntarily evaluates the properties of my scat every day...
In case you haven't noticed, I'm teething. I know you have been racking your brain for legitimate reasons for me to have no appetite, whine all the time, pull at your clothing, put non-edibles in my mouth, and scream at the slightest offense. I just made it easy and told you. Now you can take a deep breath and reassess how you are dealing with me. Usually I have no complaints (besides being forced to wear clothes), but as of late, I would like to point out some of your behavioral flaws.
Firstly, when I am busy doing something fun like tasting the refrigerator magnets or stuffing my cheeks with pistachio shells like a squirrel, do not start your address with, "NO!!!!" it really sends the wrong message, and quite frankly rubs me the wrong way. This is why I reply with an earsplitting scream and as pouty of a face as I can muster.
Secondly, when I make my most injured face (the one where you can see all eight of my teeth) do not start to laugh. I don't care if it's some sort of therapeutic release from exasperation or if you just need a good slap, just don't do it. So bad for my budding sense of self esteem. Just because I can go from smiles to baby troll face in milliseconds does not mean that you shouldn't immediately adjust your handling of the situation. Now I know a common belief among you adult people is that if a poor baby (like myself) is not shedding tears, then its not an urgent situation, but let me just dispel that awful notion from your head. In fact, sometimes a non-tear situation is even more dire than bonking my head on the table when I stand up underneath it. And yes, I knew the table top was there... I just forgot momentarily. I cried because I was embarrassed- not shocked. You see, a non-tear situation could be as simple as me wailing at your knees because you were handling "hot" things in the kitchen and refused to pick me up even after I demanded "Up, UPPPPF" twenty three times in varying degrees of insistence/distress. I actually had to wait there on the floor for all of 6 minutes whilst you puttered around making food that I was about to vehemently reject anyway.
While I am thinking about food, I wanted to remind you not to bother to make any for me because I won't eat it anyway. I am so repelled by the thought right now that I have to go drink some bathwater (sans bubbles please- I've had gas lately).
Also, you should know that your conduct yesterday was utterly deplorable. We were in a public place, and you dared to try and get me to eat. I don't care that you ordered me my very own Quesadilla with a side of beans and Spanish rice. Did I ask for it? NO (just learned that word- so handy). I didn't even ask for your strawberry cheesecake. What, you think that because you willfully withhold sweets from me that I'll immediately cave and eat them when offered?! Do you even know me?!
That you had the heart to let Papa smear some on my lips to get me to taste it was a real slap in the face! I hope you enjoyed watching me sputter away every minuscule particle and then spew some drool out just for good measure. You must have, because I noticed you couldn't stop laughing even after Papa advised you against it. You claimed to have been laughing with me but did you see my face? It was not laughing. Not hungry means (say it with me now) "NOT HUNGRY". I thought they taught this stuff in Parent-Ed. Oh wait- that is a course scattered throughout a myriad of websites and support groups on the internet- many of which aren't helpful at all and disperse bad advice and recipes.
So I have an idea. Why don't you go eat some chocolate and do some jumping jacks- I'm thinking of having a chocolate milkshake later. Oh, was that too crude? I didn't think so, I mean I am talking to the one who voluntarily evaluates the properties of my scat every day...
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