The Next Challenge

I'm happy to say that Jack is starting to figure some things out. For example, there are foods out there besides french fries and ice cream that not only will not cause his death, but might, in fact, be tasty. On Sunday alone, he tried three new foods. We got some fresh apricots at the grocery store and because they were "so cute," Jack agreed to taste them. Then he ate all five. I gave him some red pepper strips with his dinner, and he informed me that, "I don't yike red peppers," but after I told him he did not have to eat them, he did without complaint. Even better, Steve convinced him to try one of the world's greatest foods, ribs. "I yike ribs," Jack said happily, and I had him call my dad with the good news.

Now if only we could get him to try something completely off the wall, such as CEREAL, we'd really have something.

Last night, Jack informed me that he was not going to sleep in a Pull-Up. The kid has been successfully potty-trained during the day for quite a while, and I have to admit that 99% of the time, he wakes up in the morning completely dry. But I also really like not having to change sheets in the middle of the night, so I was prepared to do Pull-Ups indefinitely. Jack informed me politely and reasonably that his body is indeed ready to go all night and that he would not be needing a Pull-Up any more.

"But what if you go in the middle of the night," I asked. Jack said that he would get up, go to the bathroom, and go back to bed. Um, okay. If you say so. Sure enough, last night was successful. "I am all done with Pull-Ups," Jack informed me triumphantly. Too bad that happened immediately after I spent ten bucks on a new bag of them, but whatever.

The little man is also expressing more and more of an interest in learning to read and write. Last night, he and I spent a long time practicing writing the letter J. It is unfortunate that the kid happens to have his name start with a letter that is kind of hard to draw, but we kept on working on the line on top with a hook at the bottom. He definitely doesn't have it yet, but the desire is there.


Yes, I know those are numbers, but you get the idea.

As he and I were working on letters, then making a mixed media collage (ie coloring book page involving crayons, colored pencils, and marker with stickers on it), he'd occasionally grab a carrot stick to munch on. I looked like the greatest mom the world has ever known. I will have to remember that moment the next time I hit the Hell With It button and give him a bowl of marshmallows and put him in front of the TV.

Still, we don't have everything quite figured out yet. Jack decided a while back that he doesn't need to take a nap anymore. However, all evidence points to the contrary, particularly when he is tired to the point where he has screaming fits and attempts to hit me and throw shoes at Steve. The kid needs to take a nap, and we all need to work a little harder to make it happen.

Last night after work, Steve and I had a Team Meeting with my mom and Doug, who take care of Jack on Mondays and Tuesdays. We agreed to attempt a nap at 12:30 and keep trying for 40 minutes. Jack is to stay in his room for 90 minutes, at which time his alarm will go off. We aren't going to make him sleep - if he wants to stay in a darkened room and play with Roary and Susie, so be it, but we are hoping he will get bored and give in to the urge to nap.

Starting today, his sticker chart will no longer be for staying in bed at night, but rather for staying in bed at naptime. He's down with the plan and is eager to earn enough stickers to get his Superman and Krypto action figure set. Here's hoping that The Great Nap Crackdown of 2008 is successful.

Wonders Never Cease

First of all, Internet, thank you for all your kind get well wishes. Whoever said you were good for nothing but porn? Not me.

Yesterday was full of miraculous happenings at Stately Wasser Manor. Jack and I went to the card store to get valentines for Steve. While we were there, Jack said, "Mommy, do they have a potty here?" I told him that they did not, and he loudly announced that he needed to "go poopy," instantly making me think of Vickie Iovine's promise that if your kids don't embarass you on a regular basis, you are not getting your money's worht out of parenthood.

I told him that we'd need to go home (only two minutes away), and asked him to PLEASE wait until we got there. Believe it or not, it worked. He actually held it, just like a grown human. I rewarded him with a giant pile of Junior Mints.

I've been hesitant to say it, afraid to jinx myself, but I think the kid has pretty well figured out this potty training thing. He cannot yet be trusted to remember on his own to go to the bathroom, but with prompting, the accidents are extremely rare. Like, two in a month rare. And 3-4 mornings a week, he wakes up dry. Crazy!

And here's an even bigger shock. Last night, we were eating dinner, and Jack said, "I yike salad." And then he allowed me to put a lettuce leaf on his plate. And then he picked up the lettuce leaf. And then he ATE the lettuce leaf. Steve and I nearly died of shock. Jack told me that his teacher, Miss Julie, convinced him to try salad. The next time I see her, I am giving that woman a big hug.

Broke Down

Jack is sporting one wicked black eye. We were at the play area at the mall and he conked heads with a little kid about half his age and a head shorter than he is. The other kid was unharmed; Jack now looks like the dog from The Little Rascals. I only wish the photo did justice to the completely badass shiner that the kid is now sporting. It is amazing. I think he realizes that it looks cool, because he is perfectly willing to laugh at the fact that he got beat up by a baby.

In other news...

- Jack voluntarily ate two green beans last night. We are in shock. I was pretty sure he would never eat anything green unless it had an M on it.

- It has been freakishly warm here. All of the pretty snow has melted, and I've gone running IN SHORTS for the past couple of days. Huzzah! But also weird. My man Al Gore is silently weeping over the whole thing, I'm sure.

- I broke down and went to the doctor about my lingering (since, oh, November) knee problem. Every time I go running, my right knee hurts for a day or so. The doctor spent about ten minutes looking at it and said, basically, "Got me. Go see a specialist," so that's what I'm doing tomorrow morning. Of course, after the knee got some attention, it didn't bother me nearly as much during last night's run. Wouldn't it be great if this problem just solved itself?

- We've had a good run together, but it looks like my Nike + is dying. The sensor battery is low, and my friend the Internet tells me that they can't be replaced - I'd have to buy a new kit. Um, is it bad that I am seeing this as an opportunity not to buy a new $30 sensor kit, but rather to spring for a Garmin? Yes, there's a teeny price difference between the two, but I am pretty sure the Garmin will even do my laundry for me. I can't wait to get it in the mail.

Under Pressure

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I freaking love this commercial. And last night, I pretty much lived it.

It was a busy day at work. Not bad, just busy. But before I left, we had another incredibly painful and tearful goodbye from Jack. It is pretty much the worst possible way to start your day.

When I got home, he continued to cling to me like a barnacle. Steve was going to take him to the grocery store, but no way would he leave me for that long. So, whatever. I made dinner while holding him, which isn't exactly easy now that he's 30 pounds and wiggly.

He was super annoying at dinner. Jack ate, like, two bites of mashed potatoes and announced that he was full and ready for dessert. Ahem. He also didn't want me to eat my dinner and responded to my attempts to do so by pulling on my hand as hard as he could, saying, "Come on" over and over again.

Steve took out one of his plates and put two bites of chicken and a small mound of mashed potatoes on it, informing Jack that he needed to eat all of that food, or no snacks or dessert. Steve then had to go make a phone call, leaving me to deal with Jack.

Like an idiot, I went against my new policy regarding food, which is Eat it or don't eat it; I'm not going to beg you. I cajoled, I wheedled, I tried to inspire him to eat by having Spidey eat bites of chicken. Jack whined, spit chicken on the carpet, and generally annoyed the crap out of me.

The whole situation had me pulled in a million directions. On one hand,I feel horrible about the fact that he is having such seperation anxiety. I know that my little guy is going through a lot right now, and I just wish that I could shoulder all burdens for him so that life is nothing but easy for him. On the other hand, for the love of Yoda, kid, if you want to be around me so badly, how about not being a complete dick when you are? Then I feel guilty again, because I know that he's only being a dick because he needs me extra right now, and what the hell kind of mother am I if I'm calling my toddler a dick?

Steve got off the phone, detached a crying barnacle from my leg, and ordered me to go running. I picked a route with a really steep hill, reasoning that I'll need some extra hill training to prepare for the Bix. I also think that, subconsciously, I wanted a workout that would be really hard.

So I set off. At first, I was all distracted, thinking about how hard this whole situation is and wondering how badly I was handling it. But as I kept on running, all of it just melted away, just like in the commercial. By the time I was two miles in, all I was thinking about was the physical act of running. I felt a million times better.

And, as luck would have it, when I got home, I discovered a happy Jack, stripped down to his diaper, eating a giant cookie at the kitchen table, having made a valliant effort at eating the food we gave him. He was sweet, funny, and not even remotely unpleasant for the rest of the night.

Hey, and thanks to everybody who commented on my last post. It's nice to feel your support, it really is.

Flying Solo

Steve left at the crack of dawn yesterday for a graphic novel conference in New York, so the Cub and I are flying solo. He'll be back either late tonight or sometime tomorrow, depending on how things go.

When Jack was littler-- and when I was a newer mother-- the prospect of taking care of him by myself for a couple of days would be really daunting. How in the name of Yoda was I going to get ready for work in the morning? Could I possibly get him dressed and myself and get coffee and make it out the door in a reasonable period of time? How was I going to make dinner?

Things are so much easier now. For one thing, Jack is a lot more self-sufficient. He doesn't need to be held constantly. I can just hand him a milk instead of feeding him a bottle. But I also feel more confident than I used to. Steve had been worried that the antibiotics Jack is on would give him diaper rash and that I'd have to deal with it by myself. I shrugged that off -- nothing I can't handle.

In fact, Jack and I are enjoying our Mommy-Son time. Last night, I cooked dinner. It says a lot about Jack's sadly limited menu in the past that I am so pleased that he declared the macaroni and cheese I made to be, "Yummy. No is yucky. Is yummy." I gave him a bath (something I definitely would not have done by myself in the past), we played, and the little man gave me a total love wave when it was time for us to hang out and watch TV. I asked if he wanted Elmo or Dora, and he requested, "Kermit movie." That's my boy!

I told him last night that we are getting pizza for dinner. He must have thought about it all night. He woke up this morning, and said, "Hi, Mommy. Jack all clean! Mommy y Jack eat pizza!" I just want to give him a million kisses.

Saving Face

Since the Great Food Crackdown of 2007, Jack's snack of choice has been cereal bars. They're reasonably healthy, plus it's convenient to just hand him one to eat before school. For whatever reason, Jack prefers to have the cereal bar partially in the wrapper. The one time I unwrapped it completely and handed it to him, he completely wigged out. There's typically no logic to be found in the world of a two-year old.

Yesterday, he asked for his morning cereal bar, and let me tell you, I could not get that thing to him fast enough. As I reached into the pantry for it, Jack got impatient and had a semi-fake tantrum about it. His new technique is to get face down on the floor, but it's like he read in a book that that's how you have a tantrum, because he totally phones it in. He doesn't throw himself to the floor screaming. He more gently and carefully arranges himself on the floor. It's like when we play "Ring Around the Rosy." When I fall down, I don't really fall so much as carefully move to the floor.

He got up off of the floor when I handed him the cereal bar, but when I offered to open it for him, he said, "No, Mommy. Mommy no eat. Mommy no bite. Roary no eat." Then he took it and ran into a corner, shrieking, "Noooo!"

Fine. I could wait that out, because no way could he open the thing himself and would soon come crawling back to me.

In the corner, Jack struggled with the wrapper. I could hear him getting more and more frustrated, but every time I offered to help, I was met with a resounding, "Nooo!"

Eventually, I guess he gave up, because he came over to me, holding the still wrapped cereal bar. Jack surely didn't want to ask me for help, especially after he'd refused me, and perhaps because he was convinced that treacherous Mommy would steal his precious bar and eat it all for herself. He needed to save face, and he also needed someone loyal, someone he could trust.

Jack held out the cereal bar and said, "Ro open. Ro help."

"You want Roary to open the cereal bar?"

"Yep."

Roary eagerly ripped open the wrapper and handed it to Jack. "Thank you, Ro," Jack said, and happily ate the cereal bar.

In other news, remember the blue cupcakes from Wednesday? Well, yesterday, ever single kid in Jack's class had technicolor poop as a result of those things. Jack's hiney is now stained blue. Lovely.

The Great Food Crackdown of 2007

Jack is a typical toddler in his eating habits. That is to say, they are random and very limited. Jack might pound down chicken and rice as fast as he can one day, then refuse to eat it the next. And unless you count frozen waffles as a vegetable, Jack really doesn't eat vegetables.

We have had enough.

Steve and I recently initiated The Great Food Crackdown of 2007. We cleaned out the pantry of junk like crackers and yogos. Now if Jack wants a snack, he can pretty much either have fruit or a cereal bar -- that's about as junky as it gets. We are now making an effort for all of us to have the same thing for dinner. Because I don't want to eat nothing but yogurt and because Jack doesn't want to leap into the magical world of roasted red peppers and the like, I'm trying my best to find some middle ground.

Here are our new policies:
1. Goldfish and Yogos are "all gone." Until Jack learns to eat a little more normally, they are not an option.
2. All snacks are healthy.
3. The three of us will all eat the same thing at meals, or at least close to it. For example, if we were having pork chops and baked potatoes, Jack would get the potato and chicken nuggets.
4. Jack will have something new offered to him, but with old standbys as backup. The other night, I made a FABULOUS butternut squash risotto with a side of broccoli. Jack got that, along with a yogurt. I bet you can guess what he ate, but hey -- I'm going to keep trying.

The good news is, we've already found some new foods for him. Jack loves tomato soup, chicken soup (particularly if the noodles are shaped like letters or Dora), grapes, dried tropical fruit (pineapple, mango, and papaya), Craisins, rice, and quesadillas. Here's hoping we get something green on the list soon.

In other, more adorable news, Jack has learned how to say (drumroll) COFFEE! The other morning, Steve was getting him dressed. Jack started talking about his day, saying, "Jack eat waffles. Jack milk. Mommy coffee. Coffee hot."