To the hokey joke-tellin-ist, book-reading-ist, super grampa-ist, overall-takin’-care-of-ist, guy around: We salute you.
Happy Birthday.
Category Archives: Family/Parenting
Because there is more than just Stella.
Hoping next time I will be cc’d
Date: September 09, 2005
To: Stella
From: Toddler Headquarters
Re: Revised Napping Schedule
It is being suggested that any interested toddlers at or around the age of 21 months cease all scheduled napping. You are encouraged to pursue any methods that you find effective. If you find yourself at a loss for ways to successfully thwart napping attempts, the following list of suggested activities may prove useful:
- Kick the wall incessantly as though you were trying to tunnel out through the side of the house.
- Get up and walk into the hall, be sure to have some sort of prop in your hand to use as a tool of distraction.
- Play in your room for an extended period of time in an attempt to make it seem as though you are actually sleeping, then emerge from your room saying “woke up!”
- Run from your room yelling “Poopie, Mommy! Poopie!” (whether it is true or not).
- Cry.
Feel free to utilize these or any other tactics you can come up with on your own.
Although it is expected that you will eventually succumb to exhaustion, be sure to drag the process out as long as possible. The whole point is to make sure that the parental unit in charge is not able to accomplish A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G productive throughout the afternoon. This is your goal.
You should continue on this schedule as long as you are able.
1,060 miles of fun.
Just as much as they don’t prepare you for how UN-magical a newborn can be, they also don’t prepare you for how TOTALLY AWESOME a toddler can be. “They” being all those sappy-licious parenting books that always look at the brighter side. Those books that need to come with a warning that says: “Beware. The person who wrote this book was high on hormones and may not always portray an accurate depiction of pregnancy, parenting or the miracle of birth.”
As a parent, your sense of the well-being of others becomes freakishly heightened whenever you are about to put yourself and your child into or near a physical space shared with another human. So you can imagine the outright panic that set in when Dore offered to suffer the slings and arrows of a road trip down to the valley with Stella and I. It was hard to discern whether this was the selfless act of a true friend or just plain old-fashioned stupidity. I mean come on – 10 hours EACH WAY, the death heat of the valley, sleeping in a trailor on the back 40 – who would willingly volunteer for this? This trip had merit badge written all over it.
The whole purpose of the trip was for us to make the rounds through Phyllis’s house in preparation for the estate sale. It is a strange and invasive process – going through someone else’s possessions. You feel like an intruder and wish that each and every item in the house had been designated to someone specific. Instead we had to play this uncomfortable guessing game of “Do you want this? No? Do you mind if I take it?” You feel like you are one step away from being a looter.
I did get the fortunate opportunity to go through years worth of photos of Phyllis, her sisters and their circle of friends. They were all so close with one another, and there were photos of the four sisters together all the way through until the ends of their lives. You could almost hear the laughter as they goofed around in the kitchen making Christmas dinner, modeled their new bathing suit, or sat on the back patio drinking cocktails. You got the very real sense that it was a time when life was good, and I am so glad I got the opportunity to have a front row seat.
When we weren’t busy at Phyllis’s house, we were tolerating moderate heat (miraculously, it was in the low to mid 90s) and watching Stella run non-stop. The Anderson Compound provides a lot of roaming room and plenty of things to check out. As per usual, she is drawn to fountains as if there is a secret voice calling to her, “come, dip your sleeves in me, ignore all arguments otherwise.” It is, undoubtedly, the same voice that tells her to loiter suspiciously around the toilet.
This was the first actual travel experience since transitioning to the big-girl bed and as such, we weren’t sure how to best anticipate the sleeping arrangements. I took the pack ‘n play just in case, but figured I would let her sleep with me.
Night 1:
Stella kidney kicks Natalie every 30-40 minutes and insists upon sleeping perpendicular to Natalie the entire night.
Night 2:
Stella is banished to the pack ‘n play and wakes regularly at 30 minute intervals until Natalie moves her back into bed with her; Stella kicks Natalie every 30-40 minutes and insists upon sleeping perpendicular to Natalie remainder of the night
Night 3:
Stella sleeps on the floor, stirring only once, but wakes up with her body a full 180 degrees opposite her initial sleeping position
Night 4:
Stella sleeps over at Grammy Judy and Grandpa Bill’s – for all Natalie cares, she slept on the ceiling.
Night 5:
See Night 3
Sleeping issues aside, Stella was downright Stellarific. She transitioned from location to location without even a whimper, she was cute, charming and ever so patient during the endless days in the car. She was able to charm everyone with her unique renditions of Rock-a-Bye-Baby, Happy Birthday, Twinkle-Twinkle and 5 Little Monkeys, often creating new and catchy medleys such as, “Wock a Bee Bee, Twee Top, Happy Booday to Woo!” One of the more memorable moments came when I asked her,”Can I have a kiss, Stella?” and she responded, “How ’bout tongue, Mama?” [Indicating I should kiss her on the tongue.] Classic.
From all reports, her two days with Judy and Bill were equally pleasurable. Judy got to play show-and-tell with Stella at two separate schools, where Stella even got to play at Kindergarten recess. (When you are a pint-sized giant you can get away with such things.) They survived a trip to the grocery store where Stella got her very own cart and, as Bill put it, she was a much better at the shopping part than at the steering part. And miracle of all miracles, they left the store with only ONE must-have item that wasn’t on the original grocery list.
It was a fairly uneventful drive home, aside from the one cheese incident wherein she mistook it for playdough and managed to work it skillfully into the plastic mechanism that fastens her seatbelt. New rule: cheese is no longer an unsupervised food.
Note to Dore: You certificate of completion is in the mail.
Operation Sleep Tight: Day 5
Our first week with the new big-girl bed has offered up a full range of sleeping exploits. It is simply amazing to me how, some days she will go to sleep on the first try, without any problems at all and other days – like oh, say, WEDNESDAY – she will outright refuse to sleep at all.
Here are her stats for the week.
Fallen out of bed: 1
Found sleeping on the floor in her room: 1
Found crying in the hallway: 2
Fooled us into thinking she’s asleep when really she is going through the entire contents of a box of wipes: 1
Required Blue and White for sleep ritual: 0
Number of books required before bedtime: infinite “how bout dat wun?”
I have been pleasantly surprised by the fact that she hasn’t used her new “get out of bed free card” to spiral us into a civil war of sleep, and has instead given us a glimmer of hope that on some level she is willing to meet us half-way.
Thank You, Stella.
Operation Sleep Tight: Day 1
After spending a full month talking up the new ‘big-girl’ bed, we were finally ready to initiate Stella into the world of cageless sleeping. Concurrent with our cheerleading to Stella on how great this new change would be, was the cheerleading we were giving ourselves as to how it was not going to completely ruin any chances we had of sleeping normally EVER AGAIN.
The initiation sequence:
We tried to make sure we kicked off the morning right with a field trip to go pick out her sheets, blankets and comforter – even throwing in a bonus Dora pillow to sweeten the deal. So far, so good.
The transition:
All it takes is a couple of twists of the hex wrench and we have irrevocably change the course of history. After all, this isn’t just an issue of her being able to get out of her bed. It is her ability to get out of her bed, escape from her room, make her way into any room of the house and fashion instruments of destruction — all while we sleep. It is only a matter of time before I wake up to find Stella staring at me while holding a popsicle and the laptop computer.
Nap time, attempt #1:
Much to our surprise, while trying to find homes for the stuffed animals that used to be wedged between the crib and the wall, Stella looks at me and says “Ni-Night, Mama.”
Me: “Are you ready for your nap?”
Stella: “Yeah”
No. Way. It can’t be this easy. This is a trick. It has to be.
Realizing that her sheets are still in the dryer, but not wanting to miss an opportunity, we throw together a makeshift sheet and blanket set and cross our fingers that this might actually work. Kisses, bottle, boo-white-sugar, and we are out the door.
Quiet.
Quiet
Quiet.
Ten minutes go by, and then I hear it. Shuffling. Footsteps. Jiggling of the doorknob. Then the knocking. Knock-knock-knock. “mAAAAAmaaaaa.” Damn.
I try leaving her alone to see if it will take. Nope.
Attempt 1: aborted.
Nap time, attempt #2:
See Nap time, attempt #1, except with the added bonus that instead of jiggling the handle, she figures out how to let herself out of the room. She saunters into the kitchen, “Hi Mama!” It’s one of those moments where you want to be all parental, but all you can do is laugh.
Nap Time, attempt #3:
After repeated meltdowns throughout the afternoon, and self-admitted tiredness on behalf of her highness, we go for attempt #3. We are optimistic. We gather our stuff, head in and try again. She looks so adorably cute tucked into her new bed. I cross my fingers and hope for the best.
Quiet.
Quiet.
Quiet.
This is about the point where I realize we need to install a peephole in her bedroom. What is she doing in there? Then I hear it: Shuffling. Footsteps. Jiggling of the doorknob. And knocking. Instead of leaving her to her own devices, I decide to try to help things along a little. I lay down with her, talk to her about her big-girl bed and try to get her mellow enough to actually fall asleep without trying to escape. It takes a while, but I do it! Her eyes begin to droop, her bottle falls to the side…SUCCESS! I slink out and Steve and I share a high-five, and then we wait. What happens when she wakes up?
Mission accomplished:
Flash forward an hour and a half. The unmistakable sound of a doornob jiggle emanates from the hallway. Before actually allowing her to open it we greet her at the door. Deep down, I guess we are just hoping that the last time she got it open it was just a fluke and that she doesn’t actually remember how. The longer we can keep her from freely running amok while we sleep, the better.
And so ends the afternoon.
And so begins the evening…