While I am sure to steer clear of any conversation regarding politics, religion, or money, lately, you'll find me dead center in the debate on childbirth. I've never understood how people could get so passionate about politics. Trust me, I have always found those people to be very annoying. So I am fully aware that I'm probably annoying the hell out of you with all of my talk about natural childbirth. I'll try to keep it to a minimum moving forward. I did, however, post a new article on The Mode Life about natural childbirth. You can read it by clicking the link below, or you can completely ignore my crazy, hippie-like rant and skip to the paragraph below the link. Your choice!
NOTE: What I failed to express in the article is that doing research and taking classes before your birth will help you to feel confident in the decisions being made, because you will be able to be a part of the decisions. At some point everyone is faced with a decision by a doctor, and it is up to you to ask the questions to learn if the procedure should be immediate, could be postponed, or is even necessary. Sometimes your baby and your body will go against your plan, like my sister-in-law whose water broke early with no other signs of labor. She can feel empowered knowing that it was safest for her and baby to be induced further. Of the five women in my Bradley class, four of us were able to follow through with our birth plans while one required an emergency c-section. The woman who had a c-section should feel empowered knowing she saved her baby's life. Either way, being knowledgeable about the process will help you to feel happy and confident about your birth, not to mention make it less scary.
For my next birth, if I need an epidural (which, believe it or not, is always an option in my mind) or Pitocin I will feel confident in my decision. My intention was not to make anyone feel like they had a lesser experience, but simply open your mind to your options. Whether you gave birth at the ER registration desk or in the ER room, you deserve to feel great about the experience because giving birth is amazing!
Take Back Your Birth!
On that topic, I have decided to switch to a midwife. Something I never really talk about is how horrible my doctor was during Chloe's actual birth, because we ended up waking her from her peaceful, on-call slumber. Someone dragged her down to the delivery room when it was time for me to push. I'm not sure if it was the resident or the doctor actually doing the delivering. I was pushing incorrectly for the first few pushes so the doctor yawned and walked out of the room. That pissed me off so with the next contraction I pushed as if my life depended on it. Sure enough, that was the push! I laughed on the inside as the doctor had to rush back in to deliver the baby. When I was being stitched up she was barking orders over the resident's shoulders. Now connect the left falangie to the starboard side, blah blah. No, not like that, blah. Cassie, if you would relax a little this would go a lot faster, blah. I hated her after that birth, but for some reason I went back to that office when I found out I was pregnant again.
After our ultrasound I met with another doctor there. This was the one who told me I couldn't feel the baby kicking yet, because it was too early. Because he has a uterus. And it has been kicked by a baby before, I'm sure. This time I expressed my desire for a natural birth. He made a few jokes aimed at Paul and then said to me "What birth isn't natural, really? Har har har." I told him one where he pumps me full of Pitocin and then ends up slicing open my stomach anyway, but our definitions are obviously different. That was enough to get me searching. What is a crazy, hippie birth lady like me doing with an OB/GYN anyway?
So I found this amazing midwife practice that has only two midwives who do only hospital deliveries. This is my perfect scenario. Between them they have delivered thousands and thousands of babies and have only a 9% c-section rate compared to nearly 28% for the area. The midwife I met with, Gail, believes that Pitocin should only be used when something is wrong and labor really isn't progressing naturally. She is supportive of all forms of pain reduction including medical ones like epidurals and natural ones like water, birthing balls, and massage. She will let me eat and drink while I labor. You wouldn't think that was too much to ask, but for most doctors it is. I get to call her by her first name! And chances are she will know mine without looking at my chart! She only takes a certain number of patients so that she is sure either she or Amy, the other midwife, will be available when it comes time to deliver the baby: I don't have to spin the wheel to see which of nine doctors will come to my rescue. Also, there is always a doctor on call in case of emergency.
I feel more confident this time about going to the hospital when I am supposed to go at 5-6 centimeters, instead of showing up at 9 centimeters due to a lack of trust on my part. Much safer. I pray that the rest of this pregnancy goes smoothly, and that the labor and delivery goes as seamlessly as my first. I also secretly hope for a small baby again. As a friend of mine brought to my attention, it would be much easier to push out a 6.5 pound baby without an epidural than a 10 pound baby! I couldn't agree more.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
The Mode Life
In my infinite amounts of spare time I have made the logical decision to become a regular contributor on The Mode Life. The website was started by my neighbor who lives just two houses down the street. The concept is simple and cool. Basically, 30-40 ladies (and counting) use the website to post articles that are honest, refreshing, and relatable. The website is described as follows:
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Unglamorous
I'm quickly realizing the second pregnancy is far less glamorous than the first. I can remember the day I found out I was pregnant with Chloe. My mind went straight from a vision of me with a round belly, skinny legs (even though I didn't have them to start with - it was my vision - give me a break), and a healthy glow, straight to a vision of me quietly rocking my peaceful baby in my meticulously maintained nursery.
There was nothing about the crazy, hormonal mood swings that follow closely behind the birth. Nothing about feeling sad that I could no longer feel the baby kicking my insides. Nothing about crying in the shower for a half hour just to cry. Nothing about berating my sweet husband for the most minuscule things.
In my vision there was nothing about spraying water from a squirt bottle on my girl parts while trying to pee. There was nothing about the sheer panic associated with "the first poop." There was nothing about suffering through weeks of maxi pads and ice packs. Nothing about stitches tearing and limping up the stairs.
There was nothing about hovering over the baby's crib, heart stopped, waiting for signs that she is still breathing. Nothing about watching her scream as she gets her first vaccinations. Nothing about being so tired and defeated that I have not the energy to shave my legs.
There is no other way to describe the second pregnancy other than being simply unglamorous. With these harsh realities so vivid in my mind, there is no way to find the bliss that I once had when I was pregnant with Chloe. The first pregnancy was such a dream. I took two or three hour naps whenever I wanted. I got pedicures to rest my tired feet. I had the time to read every book ever written on pregnancy. I was so happy. So full of love. So clueless.
Don't get me wrong, I feel so blessed that God has trusted me to be the Mama of another precious baby. I just wish that I had the time or energy to even think of this baby. I'm so busy working and cleaning and parenting and running around that I forget I'm even pregnant 95% of the time. I realize now that the first pregnancy is such an amazing time in one's life. There is really nothing quite like it.
This pregnancy does have certain benefits, though. Like, I have had less than an hour of my spare time to worry about deformities, rare diseases, miscarriage, etc. compared to the freaky nightly worry spiral I had with Chloe. I'm not worried about the actual birth and "if I can do it," because I know I can, and I'm psyched to do it again. I have a whole closet full of maternity clothes from my first pregnancy and from sweet friends who have given me their hand-me-downs.
I guess, in a sense, the second pregnancy is just as refreshing as it is unglamorous. Knowing what to expect this time gives me a new sense of preparedness. This time I know that I will need help wherever I can get it whether it be meals, babysitters, or a cleaning service. I can't do it all and that is okay. No one expects me to. The only person who expected me to do it all the first time was me. This time I won't be shocked to smell of sour milk more often than not. I will know that breastfeeding will be great once we get through those dark days. I will know that my baby growing up is not quite as devastating as it seems. And I will know that there will be a day when our family will all sleep again.
Paul warned me that I shouldn't write about this, because it might ruin things for my friends who are pregnant for the first time, but I happen to know that it doesn't matter. People can warn you about how hard it is going to be every day that you are pregnant and it won't matter. It is just like "enjoy it now, they grow up so fast." You never really know, or even believe it, until you experience it yourself.
There was nothing about the crazy, hormonal mood swings that follow closely behind the birth. Nothing about feeling sad that I could no longer feel the baby kicking my insides. Nothing about crying in the shower for a half hour just to cry. Nothing about berating my sweet husband for the most minuscule things.
In my vision there was nothing about spraying water from a squirt bottle on my girl parts while trying to pee. There was nothing about the sheer panic associated with "the first poop." There was nothing about suffering through weeks of maxi pads and ice packs. Nothing about stitches tearing and limping up the stairs.
There was nothing about hovering over the baby's crib, heart stopped, waiting for signs that she is still breathing. Nothing about watching her scream as she gets her first vaccinations. Nothing about being so tired and defeated that I have not the energy to shave my legs.
There is no other way to describe the second pregnancy other than being simply unglamorous. With these harsh realities so vivid in my mind, there is no way to find the bliss that I once had when I was pregnant with Chloe. The first pregnancy was such a dream. I took two or three hour naps whenever I wanted. I got pedicures to rest my tired feet. I had the time to read every book ever written on pregnancy. I was so happy. So full of love. So clueless.
Don't get me wrong, I feel so blessed that God has trusted me to be the Mama of another precious baby. I just wish that I had the time or energy to even think of this baby. I'm so busy working and cleaning and parenting and running around that I forget I'm even pregnant 95% of the time. I realize now that the first pregnancy is such an amazing time in one's life. There is really nothing quite like it.
This pregnancy does have certain benefits, though. Like, I have had less than an hour of my spare time to worry about deformities, rare diseases, miscarriage, etc. compared to the freaky nightly worry spiral I had with Chloe. I'm not worried about the actual birth and "if I can do it," because I know I can, and I'm psyched to do it again. I have a whole closet full of maternity clothes from my first pregnancy and from sweet friends who have given me their hand-me-downs.
I guess, in a sense, the second pregnancy is just as refreshing as it is unglamorous. Knowing what to expect this time gives me a new sense of preparedness. This time I know that I will need help wherever I can get it whether it be meals, babysitters, or a cleaning service. I can't do it all and that is okay. No one expects me to. The only person who expected me to do it all the first time was me. This time I won't be shocked to smell of sour milk more often than not. I will know that breastfeeding will be great once we get through those dark days. I will know that my baby growing up is not quite as devastating as it seems. And I will know that there will be a day when our family will all sleep again.
Paul warned me that I shouldn't write about this, because it might ruin things for my friends who are pregnant for the first time, but I happen to know that it doesn't matter. People can warn you about how hard it is going to be every day that you are pregnant and it won't matter. It is just like "enjoy it now, they grow up so fast." You never really know, or even believe it, until you experience it yourself.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Dear Cassie,
Stop kidding yourself.
Stop thinking you are going to start working out six weeks postpartum. Stop thinking you'll be in a bikini by June. Stop thinking you'll be in your old wardrobe by the time you go back to work. You've done this before, haven't you? Don't you remember how many times the baby wakes up at night? Don't you remember how your house turns into a total shithole? Don't you remember how many visitors you'll have to entertain? Don't you remember answering emails and working when the baby was napping when you should have been napping yourself? Don't you remember how much it hurts - you know - down there? Don't you remember that there is no time to work out? No time at all. Not when your baby wakes up at 12:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m., and 5:30 a.m. Don't you remember that you only have three or four hours with your kids when you get home from work, and the last thing you'll want to do in those precious few hours is work out? By 8:00 p.m. when the baby is sleeping you'll probably collapse as you reach for your sneakers. Why is that so hard to remember?
Why don't you do us a favor this time around? Let's remember that your body will eventually mutate back to its original form. Just give it some time. No amount of torture is going to speed up the rate at which your hips migrate inward. In fact, this time around lets invest in a big storage bin. Throw all of your pre-pregnancy clothes in the bin and hide it away in the attic like a time capsule. Label it "Do Not Open Until August 2012." You'll save us a lot of disappointment.
This time there will be no standing in front of the mirror with a pair of size six jeans stuck around your knees. No. There will not be seventeen pairs of pants strewn about the floor. Maybe these? No. Maybe these? No. There will be no grabbing the skin around your belly button and squishing it to say "Feed me. I'm hungry." No. No, no, no.
One day, like a bear waking from hibernation, you'll know it is time. You will wake from your delicate state of not really wake, not really sleeping. You will instinctively wander north to the bin in the attic and rummage through your old clothes. You will pull on your old pants and, alas, they will nearly fit! Then and only then may you revisit the idea of working out. Promise me you'll take my advice. Pinky promise?
Stop thinking you are going to start working out six weeks postpartum. Stop thinking you'll be in a bikini by June. Stop thinking you'll be in your old wardrobe by the time you go back to work. You've done this before, haven't you? Don't you remember how many times the baby wakes up at night? Don't you remember how your house turns into a total shithole? Don't you remember how many visitors you'll have to entertain? Don't you remember answering emails and working when the baby was napping when you should have been napping yourself? Don't you remember how much it hurts - you know - down there? Don't you remember that there is no time to work out? No time at all. Not when your baby wakes up at 12:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m., and 5:30 a.m. Don't you remember that you only have three or four hours with your kids when you get home from work, and the last thing you'll want to do in those precious few hours is work out? By 8:00 p.m. when the baby is sleeping you'll probably collapse as you reach for your sneakers. Why is that so hard to remember?
Why don't you do us a favor this time around? Let's remember that your body will eventually mutate back to its original form. Just give it some time. No amount of torture is going to speed up the rate at which your hips migrate inward. In fact, this time around lets invest in a big storage bin. Throw all of your pre-pregnancy clothes in the bin and hide it away in the attic like a time capsule. Label it "Do Not Open Until August 2012." You'll save us a lot of disappointment.
This time there will be no standing in front of the mirror with a pair of size six jeans stuck around your knees. No. There will not be seventeen pairs of pants strewn about the floor. Maybe these? No. Maybe these? No. There will be no grabbing the skin around your belly button and squishing it to say "Feed me. I'm hungry." No. No, no, no.
One day, like a bear waking from hibernation, you'll know it is time. You will wake from your delicate state of not really wake, not really sleeping. You will instinctively wander north to the bin in the attic and rummage through your old clothes. You will pull on your old pants and, alas, they will nearly fit! Then and only then may you revisit the idea of working out. Promise me you'll take my advice. Pinky promise?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Chloe - 18 Months
On July 24 Chloe turned 18 months old and it seems like she is growing up so fast. Mommy fell a little behind scheduling her 18 month appointment so I'll have to post her stats separately. She is solid as a rock, though, I'll tell you that much. We are sure that she is going to have a stockier build than most little girls. I'm sure she is going to "hate" her body as she is growing up, but I'm making it my goal in life to teach her that her body is beautiful.
Looking back on my life I realize that I was able to do so much with my strong body. I was the fastest girl in school, I could do a standing back tuck, and I could bench press 150 lbs by my freshman year of high school. I was insanely strong, and I was able to live my life more fully because of it.
Just for fun, Chloe does chin-ups on the side of the dining room table. Chin-ups for crying out loud. She has been able to do a somersault by herself for a couple of months now. Also, she is an amazing jumper. She can actually get an inch or two off the floor. When she first started jumping she would start in a squatting position and she would make you count for her until she felt like jumping. Now she just runs around jumping everywhere. She also dances like her life depends on it. If she ever hears a tune playing on the television or radio or even on a toy she will bust a move. Her dance moves are all different and all so hilarious. She has a helicopter arm swing, a booty bounce, a one arm swing and bounce, and any combination of those things while spinning. Speaking of spinning, she loves to spin all of the time. She is so silly.
The climbing never stopped. If anything she is worse now than ever before. The difference is now we just sort of let her climb instead of fight her constantly. She loves to climb on tables and chairs and she even tries to go up and down the stairs upright without holding on. She climbs into her stroller and high chair, but the worst climbing of all started about a month ago when she finally figured out she can climb out of her crib. I swear you'd think the world was ending if you came to our house for the three or four days we battled the crib climbing. I was so worked up about it that it was all I could talk about. That was the last "safe" spot I had to put her. I could take a shower in the morning without worrying that Chloe was going to be hanging from the ceiling fan when I got out. And now it is the most dangerous place to put her?
With the help of technology that is far more sophisticated than my parents had when I was a baby, we used our digital monitor to spy on her in stealth mode. Whenever she would start to crawl out of the crib we would run in and correct her. After about four days she figured out that climbing out of the crib wasn't going to fly; however, three days ago I woke up to a ker-thump and "waaaaaaaaaahhhhh!" and sure enough she had climbed out of the crib and bumped her little head. Thankfully she only had a goose egg, and when we asked her if she was going to crawl out of her crib that night she shook her head and said "NO!" She is a daredevil, but she is no fool. Regardless, we are thinking of moving her to a bed here shortly.
Chloe has a few favorite things and I'll just list them here below in order of obsession:
1. Papa - Chloe is deeply, madly, insanely in love with my Dad. When she is with her Papa nothing else in the world matters. We are usually happy when we leave because she turns into such a Papa snob that no one else can hold her or feed her or look at her. Griffin feels the same way about my Dad.
2. Griffin - Chloe still loves Griffin second best. She chases him around everywhere. She steals his ball and makes him chase her. Most of all she mauls him. She climbs all over him and rubs her little face into his fur. Also, she loves to bite his ears. She gets in trouble if we catch her, but he just lets her do it. It seems a little backwards that we are worried that our child is going to bite your dog. It should be the other way around, right?
3. Outside - Chloe would be outside all day if we let her. Dada likes to be outside, but this Mama has never been a huge fan of sitting outdoors. Chloe has been loving the summer and playing in the backyard.
4. Computer/iPhone - I know that it is sad that a technological device is fourth on the list. Chloe loves singing and learning her alphabet. Just once I let her play a toddler alphabet game. After that she became completely obsessed with playing online computer games, and whenever she sees a laptop she throws a tempertantrum if you don't let her play. I have a few iPhone apps for her and sometimes she gets that way about the phone, too.
5. Books - Chloe loves to read books to you, read them to herself, or have them read to her. She usually has to do the picking, though. She can be very picky about her books!
6. Sesame Street - I'm going to point the finger at my Mom for getting her hooked on this show, but I have to say that I'm grateful to have Melmo babysit Chloe for free every morning while I get ready. It is much easier to put myself together these days!
Chloe seems to be picking up the English language. For a while she was saying a new word every day. She will repeat almost any word you say, but it seems like lately she has put her focus into listening and understanding rather than speaking. She understands most of what we ask her and we are able to give her choices, which has made life a lot easier. Her favorite words, of course, are "more" and "no," but she does have a whole stash of words like turtle, circle, heart, and tractor up her sleeve.
Chloe sings all of the time. My favorite is that she sings her ABC's except she sings it "B, B, B, B, B, B, B" and sometimes when I'm singing it with her she will fill in a few of the letters. She sounds a lot like me when I go to Catholic mass "We believe B, B, B, one God, B B B, forever, amen." She can point out most of the letters when we ask her, and she is also pretty good at her shapes. She seems less interested in counting, but she can tell you how old she is!
Chloe also loves animal sounds. She knows the sounds for at least twenty animals. Her favorite is the monkey because her Dada taught her how to act like a crazy monkey while she makes the sound. She loves to do the elephant nearly just as much and sticks her little arm out in front of her like a trunk.
My sweet, sweet baby is developing quite the little temper in her age. She has a very short fuse. Actually, I'm not even sure she has a fuse. It is more like a switch. If you take her tooth brush from her before she is good and ready to stop brushing her teeth she will instantly turn into a wet noodle and throw her body to the floor and scream. It is hard not to laugh it is so ridiculous. We have one or two of these a day. Sometimes she will be so pissed that she will swat at me and then she gets a timeout. She just has to sit in the corner for 30 seconds, but I'll be dammed if I'm going to let my kid swat me without some form punishment even if "she is too young to know." Sometimes I will scream back and "cry" with her with the same intensity. My neighbor told me about this method. It is hilarious. She will stop and stare at me like I'm crazy and then I'll tell her in a more reasonable voice why she can't have what she wants. That works about 50% of the time.
My once willing-to-eat-anything-you-put-in-front-of-her-face baby has now become a very picky eater. I blame this on two things: blueberries and raspberries. Once she discovered the sweet goodness of the vine she has never been the same. She has downgraded to peanut butter and jelly, grilled cheese, and chicken nuggets (Yes, it's true; the mother who once made her own baby food sold out for processed chicken who-knows-what.)
(Oh my God if you are still reading this then bless you. I would have fallen asleep eating a PBJ paragraphs ago.)
Looking back on my life I realize that I was able to do so much with my strong body. I was the fastest girl in school, I could do a standing back tuck, and I could bench press 150 lbs by my freshman year of high school. I was insanely strong, and I was able to live my life more fully because of it.
Just for fun, Chloe does chin-ups on the side of the dining room table. Chin-ups for crying out loud. She has been able to do a somersault by herself for a couple of months now. Also, she is an amazing jumper. She can actually get an inch or two off the floor. When she first started jumping she would start in a squatting position and she would make you count for her until she felt like jumping. Now she just runs around jumping everywhere. She also dances like her life depends on it. If she ever hears a tune playing on the television or radio or even on a toy she will bust a move. Her dance moves are all different and all so hilarious. She has a helicopter arm swing, a booty bounce, a one arm swing and bounce, and any combination of those things while spinning. Speaking of spinning, she loves to spin all of the time. She is so silly.
The climbing never stopped. If anything she is worse now than ever before. The difference is now we just sort of let her climb instead of fight her constantly. She loves to climb on tables and chairs and she even tries to go up and down the stairs upright without holding on. She climbs into her stroller and high chair, but the worst climbing of all started about a month ago when she finally figured out she can climb out of her crib. I swear you'd think the world was ending if you came to our house for the three or four days we battled the crib climbing. I was so worked up about it that it was all I could talk about. That was the last "safe" spot I had to put her. I could take a shower in the morning without worrying that Chloe was going to be hanging from the ceiling fan when I got out. And now it is the most dangerous place to put her?
With the help of technology that is far more sophisticated than my parents had when I was a baby, we used our digital monitor to spy on her in stealth mode. Whenever she would start to crawl out of the crib we would run in and correct her. After about four days she figured out that climbing out of the crib wasn't going to fly; however, three days ago I woke up to a ker-thump and "waaaaaaaaaahhhhh!" and sure enough she had climbed out of the crib and bumped her little head. Thankfully she only had a goose egg, and when we asked her if she was going to crawl out of her crib that night she shook her head and said "NO!" She is a daredevil, but she is no fool. Regardless, we are thinking of moving her to a bed here shortly.
Chloe has a few favorite things and I'll just list them here below in order of obsession:
1. Papa - Chloe is deeply, madly, insanely in love with my Dad. When she is with her Papa nothing else in the world matters. We are usually happy when we leave because she turns into such a Papa snob that no one else can hold her or feed her or look at her. Griffin feels the same way about my Dad.
2. Griffin - Chloe still loves Griffin second best. She chases him around everywhere. She steals his ball and makes him chase her. Most of all she mauls him. She climbs all over him and rubs her little face into his fur. Also, she loves to bite his ears. She gets in trouble if we catch her, but he just lets her do it. It seems a little backwards that we are worried that our child is going to bite your dog. It should be the other way around, right?
3. Outside - Chloe would be outside all day if we let her. Dada likes to be outside, but this Mama has never been a huge fan of sitting outdoors. Chloe has been loving the summer and playing in the backyard.
4. Computer/iPhone - I know that it is sad that a technological device is fourth on the list. Chloe loves singing and learning her alphabet. Just once I let her play a toddler alphabet game. After that she became completely obsessed with playing online computer games, and whenever she sees a laptop she throws a tempertantrum if you don't let her play. I have a few iPhone apps for her and sometimes she gets that way about the phone, too.
5. Books - Chloe loves to read books to you, read them to herself, or have them read to her. She usually has to do the picking, though. She can be very picky about her books!
6. Sesame Street - I'm going to point the finger at my Mom for getting her hooked on this show, but I have to say that I'm grateful to have Melmo babysit Chloe for free every morning while I get ready. It is much easier to put myself together these days!
Chloe seems to be picking up the English language. For a while she was saying a new word every day. She will repeat almost any word you say, but it seems like lately she has put her focus into listening and understanding rather than speaking. She understands most of what we ask her and we are able to give her choices, which has made life a lot easier. Her favorite words, of course, are "more" and "no," but she does have a whole stash of words like turtle, circle, heart, and tractor up her sleeve.
Chloe sings all of the time. My favorite is that she sings her ABC's except she sings it "B, B, B, B, B, B, B" and sometimes when I'm singing it with her she will fill in a few of the letters. She sounds a lot like me when I go to Catholic mass "We believe B, B, B, one God, B B B, forever, amen." She can point out most of the letters when we ask her, and she is also pretty good at her shapes. She seems less interested in counting, but she can tell you how old she is!
Chloe also loves animal sounds. She knows the sounds for at least twenty animals. Her favorite is the monkey because her Dada taught her how to act like a crazy monkey while she makes the sound. She loves to do the elephant nearly just as much and sticks her little arm out in front of her like a trunk.
My sweet, sweet baby is developing quite the little temper in her age. She has a very short fuse. Actually, I'm not even sure she has a fuse. It is more like a switch. If you take her tooth brush from her before she is good and ready to stop brushing her teeth she will instantly turn into a wet noodle and throw her body to the floor and scream. It is hard not to laugh it is so ridiculous. We have one or two of these a day. Sometimes she will be so pissed that she will swat at me and then she gets a timeout. She just has to sit in the corner for 30 seconds, but I'll be dammed if I'm going to let my kid swat me without some form punishment even if "she is too young to know." Sometimes I will scream back and "cry" with her with the same intensity. My neighbor told me about this method. It is hilarious. She will stop and stare at me like I'm crazy and then I'll tell her in a more reasonable voice why she can't have what she wants. That works about 50% of the time.
My once willing-to-eat-anything-you-put-in-front-of-her-face baby has now become a very picky eater. I blame this on two things: blueberries and raspberries. Once she discovered the sweet goodness of the vine she has never been the same. She has downgraded to peanut butter and jelly, grilled cheese, and chicken nuggets (Yes, it's true; the mother who once made her own baby food sold out for processed chicken who-knows-what.)
(Oh my God if you are still reading this then bless you. I would have fallen asleep eating a PBJ paragraphs ago.)
Chloe, at 18 months I love you more than ever. I love to sit and cuddle with you and just stare at you. I can hardly believe we created something so beautiful. I feel so blessed to be your Mama, and you melt my heart on a daily basis. Please love me forever, but know that I'll always love you more. That's just how it works. Love, Mama.
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