Give Me My Body Back!

When I was pregnant with the Biscuit, obviously I had to give up a significant part of my body, that being my uterus. Of course I was oh so happy to do it, but as his stay in my belly got longer (and my waistline vanished) I was certainly ready to get my uterus back. He obliged (though he certainly left a path of destruction upon exit) and replaced my uterus with his crib.

And just when I thought my body was my own again, there he goes claiming my boobs. 13 months later, I finally demanded my body back. And, once again, the Biscuit obliged and replaced my boobs with his bottles and sippy cups.

One thing, however, that I haven't managed to get back from my son is my shoulder... my left shoulder to be exact.

The day I brought the Biscuit home from the hospital (forever a photo-memory as evidenced in our first picture together at our house), I made the crazy mistake of asking the Biscuit if he needed "mommy's shoulder." It's a simple thing that I have no doubt every mother probably does with their child. I put a burp cloth on my left shoulder, sat in his rocking chair, plopped him on my shoulder, and started rocking.

Almost 3 years later, the Biscuit still asks for "mommy's shoulder" every night and any time he's sad, upset, or sick.

When he was a baby, almost anyone could step in and offer their own "mommy's shoulder." To the Biscuit, the burp cloth was mommy's shoulder. As he got older, he's started to correct people who, mistakenly, tried to put "mommy's shoulder" on their own shoulders.

I do adore being needed by my son (and that's probably why this has sustained for so long). Tonight as I sat with him before bed (the Biscuit, on my left shoulder of course), I felt the only 2 minutes of true peace I get in the day.

but... I want my shoulder back. Well, at least I want it back part-time. 40-lbs every day is making mommy's shoulder a bit weary.

Trapped by the Biscuit

The Biscuit can, at times, be quite the stubborn little boy and it doesn't help that he can overpower me pretty easily. Just the other day, the Biscuit and I had just finished up a 20-minute reading session in his cozy spot (his indoor, 3-ft tall playhouse where he goes to "calm down" or read with his stuffed animals)... or so I thought we had finished up.

I told the Biscuit I was going to unload the dishwasher as he was on his way out of the little playhouse (apparently to get another book to read). As I got up on my knees and attempted to knee-walk out the little red door of the playhouse, the Biscuit quickly ran back to the house and said "No mommy. We not ready to go."

I insisted that I was ready to leave and started out the door. The Biscuit and I were almost eye level with each other (with me on my knees) and he literally blocked me from leaving. To my surprise, I was actually no match for his strength at his height.

After several attempts to get around him, I did finally manage to distract him, however, and quickly sprung up to full height and got out of there (whew!). Who knows WHAT I would have had to give him (an entire Hershey bar probably) if I hadn't figured a way outta there.

The Price of a Toddler Haircuts

Some of you may have already read my post on the many values of candy with toddlers, but my bribery technique goes far beyond candy these days. I learned early on that there are 3 main things that can be used to get just about ANYTHING you want from your toddler:

1. jelly beans
2. goldfish
3. M&Ms

No need to retell the jelly bean uses so I'll skip to the other 2 winners for you. For the Biscuit, goldfish are an excellent bribe for fingernail and (sometimes) toenail clipping sessions. I will caution, though, that you have to be very careful on the second hand's fingernails that you clip because they are often soggy from the goldfish eating that's been going on during the first hand's fingernail clipping, and if you're not careful you may clip too much (ouch).

Chocolate makes the Biscuit go nuts so I try not to give it to him too often. (Even in the womb, I had chocolate 2 times and each time I did, the Biscuit would start kicking and acting up.) The Biscuit just loves chocolate though so I could probably get him to do anything for an M&M. These little tasty treats came in handy when the Biscuit desperately needed a haircut recently. The deal was 1 M&M each time I clipped. Worked like a charm.

Now, I know it's not the best idea in the world to negotiate and bribe your child, so I will go ahead and say that if any of you have a better idea, by all means: enlighten me. Else, I will continue to use my little tricks to keep him well-manicured (and full-bellied).

Beans and Tantrums

The Biscuit is, for the most part, a very well-behaved 2-year old. He's very laid back and doesn't often have tantrums. When he does have a tantrum, it is a marathon event.

Last week, we were winding down the evening. The Biscuit already had his bath and his teeth brushing and we were just about to turn the TV off to head to the bedroom for story time (folks, please spare me any comments about how bad TV is before bedtime) when the Biscuit began to protest.

As usual, when I am challenged by the Biscuit, I gave him 2 options: either you turn the TV off or I will. The Biscuit stood in front of the TV blocking the controls like the little defensive tackle that he one day may be. I, being much bigger than my 40-lb toddler, leaned over him and turned the TV off. He wailed.

Then he reached around, turned the TV back on, and looked at me with a smirk. Game on, buddy... Game on.

I again gave him a choice: either turn the TV off and walk to your room for story time or I will turn it off and carry you like a baby into your room. He stood there, motionless, glaring at me as I counted 1... 2... 3... So, with all of my motherly superpowers in tow, I leaned over him once again, turned off the TV, and whisked the Biscuit down the hall into his bedroom before he even knew what had happened.

At "wheels down" the Biscuit let out a scream, which turned into a garbled ranting of things he was upset about in toddler-lingua with the occasional breath followed by unending sobbing. As the tantrum progressed, he began to beat on the door to his bedroom, which I strategically blocked from opening.

Next, he fell to his knees (not quite to full-blown, hand-and-foot kicking phase) and started shaking his hands uncontrollably. Oh, poor fella, I thought. He looked miserable. The Biscuit is so unused to this full feeling of emotion that his little hands show the inability to calm himself as he shakes them, while he looks at them wondering why they're shaking.

I try everything in the book from a consoling pat on the back, soothing voice, arms outstretched to comfort my little one's out of control fit. He's not having any of it. He continues to beat his hand on the floor and on the wall and door and screams at the top of his lungs. And then, out of nowhere, the Biscuit lifts his body up as he sits on his knees, and silence...

and then, he poots (passes gas, farts) once, silence for a moment, and he poots again. We look at each other and start to laugh at the same time. Tantrum over.

So, I guess the lesson learned is that if your toddler is having lots of tantrums, perhaps adding some beans and extra fiber to his diet will help end the tantrums a bit sooner.

P.S. When I was prego with the Biscuit (and before I knew he was a boy), I wished and wished for a little girl who I could dress in frilly clothes, paint fingernails, and play Barbies with. Instead, I got a smelly, dirty, tackling, mud puddle finding, gas-passing little fella... and I am forever grateful and blessed for my little boy.

Healthy Sleep Habits Boot Camp

Well folks, this post is a bit out of the norm of my postings (since I just posted on Friday and typically don't post until Wednesday), but I had some helpful mommy news I wanted to share. I stumbled upon (thank you Noggin) some fantastic access to renowned infant/toddler sleep guru, Dr. Marc Weissbluth's boot camp site on the Web.

You can get started now with his 4-week sleep boot camp for your child to try and get your child's sleep habits under control with his personal tutelage (courtesy a discussion board). Now, I am (obviously) a Weissbluth devotee thanks to many of my friends who recommended that I read Healthy Sleep Habits Healthy Child before I had the Biscuit. I followed his guidance and raised a very satisfied and well-slept infant and (until recently) toddler.

I forgot, though, that his book also offers guidance on toddler sleep habits and the boot camp is all about that! So, take a look at the site (am sure you probably have to register to use it, but it's free) and, if you're inclined, sign up and follow the weekly guidance.

See you all at boot camp!

May I Have Your Attention Pees

No doubt, you are all on pins and needles anxiously awaiting an update on the madness that I had been living in (and brought you all into) following last week's post. No doubt.

Well folks, I am pleased to say that I managed to get the Biscuit's nighttime routine back into a pattern of normalcy. Okay. To be honest, that's a lie... a terrible, terrible lie. Truth is, the terrible 2s have hit home hard in Biscuitville and I am almost out of methods and tricks to try to tame this child of mine.

I did make some quick decisions to attempt to get the random acts of spiteful peeing under control. First, I removed the Biscuit's new big boy bed from his room (leaving only his crib, with the rail removed). Second, I removed the Biscuit's nightlight from the room. I didn't initially plan on removing the light, but his repeated attempts to play with the light instead of going to sleep forced my hand on the issue (as it presented a danger).

As if by magic, out of the darkness came some peace. These removals did help reduce the 2-hour nightly drama (with at least 3 sheet changes and countless trips to the potty) down to 15 minutes and 1 sheet change. The 1 remaining sheet change is still his effort to maintain control in this relationship, and he's still peeing out of pure spite. Need more?

On Tuesday of this week, everything within a 30-mile radius of where we live shut down due to ice and snow (maybe 3 inches). It's ridiculous, I know, but it's how things go in the South where the roads are not constructed to minimize ice and snow effects and where cities don't have adequate equipment to clear and prevent the effects of the snow and ice (not to mention folks just don't know how to drive in the weather). So, the Biscuit's daycare was closed for the day, which meant he had an extra day at home with mommy.

I, of course, had to take the day off from work (where I could normally just work from home in spite of the weather) but since the Biscuit was here, there was no way I could responsibly work AND supervise a 2-year old. Case in point...

While I did officially take the day off, there was an important conference call that I needed to attend. I let my boss know I was taking a vaca day, but that I was calling in (in 'listen-only' mode so my teammates wouldn't have to listen to a screaming toddler). Towards the end of the call I needed to offer some comments, so I left the Biscuit in the den to watch Cars on TV and walked into another room to give a 5-minute update on the call. The Biscuit was not pleased to lose mommy's full attention.

When I returned to the den, the Underpants Gnomes had shown up (in the middle of the day no less!) and stolen his undies and pants. The Biscuit stood on my couch in all of his glory and, as I entered the room, his smile changed to a smirk.

Time slowed for a moment as I leaped toward him yelling, "Nooooooooo." but I was too late. The Biscuit proceeded to pee all over the couch... just to spite me; just to get my attention. Ugggggh!

Well, Biscuit, you certainly got it. I may wear the pants in this family (and how I wish HE would wear his pants) but you certainly are winning the war for now. I can only hope that I figure out a new strategy to help me prevail in the end.

Spite Pee

Well, as usual, I am way too optimistic about the Biscuit and his early successes. It seems he's resorted back to his old ways and worse... we've now entered the phase of peeing for spite. I thought it would be fun tonight to blog during my current nighttime drama. So let me bring you up to speed.

Using our typical toddler routine, I have given the Biscuit a bath, read 2 stories, pottied, and tucked in to bed. So far, the Biscuit has already been to the potty twice and peed on his sheets once. 

Ahhhh. There he is again, going to the potty.

Now, to be fair to the Biscuit, he has had to embrace several changes in his routine this week. I let down his crib railing and introduced his big boy bed into the room (the hope was that he would choose to move from the crib to the big boy bed on his own). He typically chooses to sleep in the big boy bed now.

Last night was a humdinger for me. 

Ahhh, another flush of the toilet. I am AMAZED at how much pee he is actually able to conjure up for each of these little visits to the potty! 

First, the Biscuit flushed his pacifier down the toilet (a repeat from an accidental flush a few nights ago). The good news is that his choosing to flush it down the toilet was his way of breaking his own habit. He didn't ask for pacifier tonight as he knew he had said "bye-bye" to it last night.

So, no crib rail tonight. 

Oops, had to break to go put him back to bed. 

No crib rail, big boy bed, no paci... that's a lot to take in all at once. I decided tonight I'd try a Supernanny approach: First time I tell him to go to sleep and escort him back to bed and from then on, no words just putting him back in the bed. I, of course, have a complicated situation in that 9 times out of 10 the Underpants Gnomes have stolen his clothes so I have to wrangle a 40-lb toddler back into undies and PJ bottoms that he doesn't want back on.

It's quite aggravating not knowing how to handle these situations. Google offered little help on the subject returning primarily results related to pets. Help folks! What's a mom to do?

40 minutes in... he's still squirming in there. I imagine we have a few more episodes left before he truly settles down for the night. 

And there you have it "Ma! I pee pee on my bed." back in a few folks...

50 mins in... another sheet changing, another visit from the Underpants Gnomes. I'm running out of sheets. 

Here we go again... another pee pee.

55 mins in... obviously I am doing something wrong. How has this happened? My toddler is now taming ME. 

Well, looks like it'll be a long night folks. Got any tips for me, please share. Clearly, I need the help.

Pull Ups: Spanx for Toddlers

This week, a trusted toddler mommy gave me some advice to ditch the easy-ups/pull-ups once and for all (in response to my continuing to struggle with potty training and the underpants gnomes). She was echoing the advice I'd been ignoring from the Biscuit's teachers at daycare who refused to allow pull-ups in the door. "You can either bring in diapers or go full-on and potty train with underwear and lots of extra clothes."

I had no idea that pull-ups, easy-ups, whatever you want to call "trainers" are really just potty training failure pro-longers. It never occurred to me that Huggies and Pampers, names I had come to know and trust (and commit 30% of my paycheck to) would betray me. I guess, it makes sense. Although the trainers do get your toddler in the habit and flow of self-dressing, they still make it really easy for them to have accidents (without really feeling it like they would in a diaper) --don't get me started on the cool alert idea; that's just barbaric!

Truly, I suppose I'm to blame. Though the Biscuit is mostly potty trained, I continued to dress him in pull-ups when we went out for an extended errand run or to church on the weekends, and (of course) at night time.

Still not convinced that you should dump (or never consider) pull-ups? Stop being so hard-headed (like I was) and just take a toddler mom's word for it: skip the pull-ups and go directly to 100% cotton tighty-whiteys. If you're still wavering, check out this link for a subtle reminder of things we thought were a good idea at the time but have since come back to bite us in the butt.

So I bit the bullet and moved the Biscuit to big boy underwear 100% of the time (including night time). As I informed that same trusted mommy 2 days into the new pull-up-free Biscuitville, I was knee-deep in laundry for 2 nights in a row. And then, as if by magic: he got it! Yes, of course I heard "I need go pee pee" at least twice after I put him to bed every night since, but he does it and then Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz until the next morning (at his regular wake up time) where he awakes to dry sheets.

It just amazed me how easy it really was. Pull-ups for toddlers are like Spanx for us women. Yes, they make you feel better and you look better but, in the end, you're just prolonging the inevitable: lay off the fries and get back on the Pilates.

Biscuit: I'm sorry you have such a dense mommy sometimes, but she's learning.

Enter: The Underpants Gnomes

Over the past 2 weeks or so, the Biscuit's night time routine has taken a bit of an interesting curve. It all begins with the sounds of a screaming hyena coming from his room shortly after lights out. "MA!" "MA!" I hear echoing through the house via the baby monitor. 

If these cries go unanswered, eventually I hear "ma MEEEEN ka!" "ma MEEEEN ka!" over and over and over again. This is followed by an unusual rustling noise. So, the first night I went to the Biscuit's room to get him back to sleep, and I was amazed at what I found (or didn't find)...

I bounded over to the Biscuit's crib to find my dear son was completely naked from the waist down. Where was his underwear? I wondered. Enter: the Underpants Gnomes.

Now, you all know that I am in the process of slowly potty training the Biscuit, and I suppose that has something to do with it all. I looked at the Biscuit and asked, "Where are your pants and underwear?" No response from the Biscuit. So, I shuffled around his bed and blankets and, thankfully, the gnomes had left them there... this time. I took the Biscuit to go potty and redressed him with his pullup.

This behavior continued for several nights. I, in spite of every effort to ensure he went potty before going to bed, I was unsuccessful at stopping the underpants gnomes from paying the Biscuit a visit (well, a warning on Christmas Eve that Santa wouldn't leave presents if he took his underwear off was quite effective.)

The night before last, the scene changed a bit. I heard the cries for my attention over the monitor, the rustle. Those damn gnomes again! And then, to my surprise, something new: "I wear my underwear on my arm." WTH. I went into the Biscuit's room and, sure enough, he had a tighty-whitey bracelet adorning his arm. Uggggg.

Where is the Dear Abbey for toddlerdom and when will this wackiness end?

Sincerely,

1 befuddled, muddled, puddled, Fox in Sox untameable toddler's mommy

The Perfect Picture

I am notorious for ruining group pictures. For whatever reason, I lack that photogenic gene. I always end up with one (or both) eyes closed, with a mouth that is in an awkward position or, as evidenced in a recent national publication, I am the only person in the picture who is fuzzy.

It seems that the Biscuit has inherited (or perhaps learned) some of this anti-photo behavior from me. The Biscuit is such a handsome boy and, he does take a fantastic picture (on rare occasions). The camera LOVES his curly hair and baby blues. But (sadly) it takes about 20 crap pictures, to get 1 decent picture of the Biscuit.

A few times every year, I attempt to get "the perfect picture" of the Biscuit. Every birthday, Halloween, picture day at school, and (you guessed it) each year at Christmastime, I attempt to become an expert photog... and, every time I fail.

About a month ago, the Biscuit had picture day at school. We had been preparing for weeks: practicing smiling with a "Cheese!" The weekend before Monday's picture day we had it down to a fine science. I dressed the Biscuit in his cutest little collared shirt and sweater vest and sent him off to school absolutely sure that THIS year we would have the perfect picture (in year's past each picture conveyed a very, very serious-looking Biscuit, not at all the true nature of my fun-loving child).

I assumed that all went well with picture day. When I started seeing announcements that pictures were in, I kept waiting to see the final results sitting in his cubbie when I picked him up each night. A week passed and I saw notices of final orders for pictures. Thinking that his teachers had forgotten to put his pictures in his cubby, I decided to ask.

The Biscuit's teacher told me that the photog took some pictures, but (sadly even after several tries) they could not get the Biscuit to pose for even 1 crappy, smileless picture this year. "I guess they were all just too terrible to print." she told me. I was devastated. Will there be no memories of the Biscuit's Toddler 2 Year-Old days at school?

I decided that we at least had to get a picture of the Biscuit for Christmastime to share with family. So this past Saturday was our scheduled picture day at the house. Thankfully, the weather was agreeable.

We started the pictures inside, positioned next to the fireplace in a nice leather chair near the tree. I gave the Biscuit an ornament to hold/play with. Again, the Biscuit was not amused. So I resorted to a time-tested toddler friend: goldfish (whole grain of course). We did manage 1 semi-decent shot (though you can see a bit of gold glimmering in his mouth).

Next, we took it outside. After 20 minutes and 1 very irritated toddler who didn't want to sit on the tree stump that the squirrels sit on to crack nuts anymore "See the empty nuts Biscuit?" I managed to rake out 1 more semi-decent shot.

I don't know what the rest of you do out there to get these beautiful pictures that I often see of your kids (and I wish you would tell me), but I know that it is HARD work to tame a toddler into a perfectly posed picture. Much respect to the photogs out there who do this for a living. I would lose my mind for sure.

You Better Watch Out!

The Biscuit and I started a new game on the way home from school each night. When one of us sees Christmas lights or other holiday Griswoldy-ness outside we shout, "It's Christmas!" It's a silly little game I started to help us pass the time as I drive us home each night.

On the way home on Friday, I was feeling particularly holly jolly. We had been seeing lots of Christmas everywhere, I had the continuous Christmas music station playing in the background, and an oldie rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" came on. I, naturally, started singing with the radio as I kept looking for the lovely lights of Christmastime.

You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout. I'm telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town... He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake.

So, I'm singing along and spot another sign of Christmas. "It's Christmas!" I shout. Usually, the Biscuit is always the first to spot the lights and beats me to saying it. This time, however, the Biscuit was silent.

I gave it a few seconds, awaiting the Biscuit's joyful "It's Christmas Mommy!" but nothing was coming from the backseat. I turned for a moment and said, "Biscuit?" To my surprise, the Biscuit's lip was trembling and he let out one heck of a cry. Tears started rolling down his face and he said, "Scary mommy."

Well, as much as I tried to explain that Santa wasn't really watching him at night (we're still not over the scary room problems yet) he definitely was not a fan of Santa anymore. I got him home and hugged him (a Thomas the Tank Engine Christmas yard decoration helped ease his fears too).

I remember how scared I was of all those crazy cartoon-like animated shows that come on during the holidays (and I still love them, especially Rudolph and the one with baby New Year, Happy). It's a magical (and sometimes scary) time for our little ones. I guess we just have to pay close attention to everything we show them and sing to them. You better watch out, too!

When Reason Doesn't Work, Try Candy?

Raising (and taming) a toddler can be hard work, especially when they really really want to be independent.

When it's 30 minutes after the time you were supposed to leave in the morning (to make it to work on time) or 30 minutes past bedtime, I find that sometimes I give in (against my better judgment) to my very smart and crafty toddler's demands at the cost of many months of effort to develop tried and true ways of doing things.

This morning it was about 50 below outside. Well, it wasn't that cold, but it was one of the coldest days so far this year. Over the past few weeks, the Biscuit has been wearing a zip-up hoodie to school as his jacket in lieu of a proper jacket (in spite of my prodding). And not just any zip-up hoodie, but one that bears his favorite (current) cartoon character: Lightning McQueen. When it came time to get out the door this morning I knew I had to figure out a way to get the Biscuit to wear a proper jacket that would actually keep him warm on the playground so I did what any self-respecting toddler-protecting mommy would do... I took his hoodie off its hook and moved it to a secret location in the laundry room (hidden from view).

When the Biscuit went a-lookin' for Lightning McQueen and asked me where it was, I replied, "Hmmmm. We must have moved him." Now, yes, I feel terrible about it, but I would have felt worse if the Biscuit came home tonight with an even worse cold than he already has from standing outside in 20 degree weather (legs wet from going pee pee on himself). The Biscuit was visibly shaken by the change in his morning routine. I needed a distraction, else he might explode into a full-blown tantrum. Deflect! Distract! I had to think of something quickly!

And there they were... glistening in the morning sunlight: a bowl full of jelly beans.

"You want a jelly bean Biscuit?" The Biscuit moved closer to the stash of gem-like candy, reached his hand in, picked out a perfect green jelly bean, and popped it into his mouth of freshly brushed teeth. He smiled as he chewed. Mission accomplished.

In the van (oh yes folks, I do drive a minivan) on the way to school, I pumped him up and let him know that he gets to be a big boy today and show ALL his friends his big boy jacket (and yes this is the same "that scared you? jacket" that I've rattled on about before). Somehow, the magical high fructose corn syrup high stunted the typical tantrum-ish responses I'd gotten over the past couple of weeks relative to the attempts to wear the big boy jacket to school. The Biscuit instead responded with: "Okay Maminka. My yelly bean is stuck" (to his teeth).

In the end, he put on the jacket without a fuss at school (and told me that he even wore it on the playground). I truly hate lying (good ol' Catholic guilt setting in) and certainly don't want to set that example for my son, and I despise the idea of bribery or deflection tactics (such as candy), but as a working mom, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get to work on time. It seems all good, but I know that tomorrow morning I will be faced with how to offset the tantrum that I will see developing before me when the Biscuit demands a jelly bean. 1 day (and tantrum) at a time I guess.

Did a Little Jacket Scare You?

He takes a huge gulp from his glass, knocks it back, and exhales with an "Ahhhhhhh. This is the life." These are not words I expected to hear from my 2 1/2 year old following dinner tonight as he drains his sippy cup of milk. As always, the Biscuit amazes me with his mature verbal skills and continues to make his linguist momma proud.

He's growing up so fast, yet he's still my little baby. I don't know if it's the scarecrows, pumpkins, ghouls, and general spookiness in the air that let us know Halloween is fast approaching or if it's just that time in a toddler's developmental stage, but lately my ever-mature Biscuit has regressed back a bit to his earlier days of fear of the unknown. Surely you all remember my post about the scary doorstop in Moving to a New House 3 when the Biscuit learned the phrase "scared you." Now the Biscuit's fears have moved from doorstops to bulky jackets.

The Biscuit's Starenka picked up a winter jacket for him a couple of weeks ago (we love Starenka who's always picking up stuff). I finally washed the jacket and hung it on the doorknob of a closet door that's in the hallway on the way to the Biscuit's bedroom. When the Biscuit walked out of his bedroom one morning, he saw the shape of the bulky jacket hanging on the doorknob. He quickly moved to the far side of the hallway and demanded my hand as we walked down the hall together.

I realized that it did look a bit like a little boy standing in the shadows of the hallway, so I put the jacket away in the closet. The Biscuit, brilliant boy, was not fooled. He knew the jacket was still in the closet (and hence the scary thing is still there). His fears progressed each morning. When he woke up this morning, his first words to me were "Jacket scare you?" This was his way of asking if I had been scared to walk down the hallway by myself to get him. This morning he wouldn't walk by himself holding my hand, instead he demanded that I carry him down the hallway past the closet.

So folks, help. How can mommy rid the house of the demon jacket fears? It's about 9 hours until tomorrow morning's monster jacket defense lesson. Though I traditionally do quite well under pressure, I just don't have a plan for this particular attack. Time for monster spray perhaps.

Oh, the joys of motherhood! What simple pleasures and tribulations we get to face as we teach our little ones life-changing skills... like bravery and courage. It's truly amazing to me to step back for a moment and recognize the true impact that I will have with how I choose to address this comical and deceptively minor situation.

On that note, I'll drink in a deep breath of courage of my own. Ahhhh, Biscuit... This is the life.

Feet First

The Biscuit has fat feet. Bless his heart, he inherited his grandpa's wide feet (grandpa is a EEE) and it makes shoe shopping quite miserable. Where some toddlers may be blessed with a plethora of shoes to choose from each day, the Biscuit has 2 pairs: New Balance tennis shoes and black Crocs (well, you all know me, ain't no way I'm paying $30 for Crocs... the Biscuit has "Krocs").

We are always on the lookout for new XX (extra wide) shoes for the Biscuit. I have my eBay alerts running constantly, but these rare gems don't pop up often. The Biscuit's Starenka (grandma) has aided me in my search for months. She hit the jackpot 1 Saturday and uncovered a Stride Rite outlet at a nearby mall and picked up a cute pair of brown, suede tennis shoes for the Biscuit in the next size.

Now, I know what you're thinking... Stride Rite? Those aren't cheap. No, they aren't, but I can't walk into Wal-Mart and pick up a pair of shoes either, so I have to buy what fits and Stride Rite is excellent and has so many choices in XX size. The pair ran around $20 at the outlet store, which is not as bad as some of their shoes (at $40-$50 on average).

As cute and practical as these new shoes were, the Biscuit didn't want to wear them. Every morning when it was "shoe time" I would try to put the new shoes on him only to find rejection and a bit of a fit if I pushed too hard. I was determined to get the new pair of shoes into the 2-shoe rotation (which had been dominated by the Krocs all summer) so I came up with a plan.

Since we have a shoe spot--a consistent place where the Biscuit's shoes are always placed each day--I took the new shoes out of their hidden location in the closet and put them in the shoe spot. After about a week of dust gathering on the new shoes, magic happened 1 morning. When it was shoe time, I asked the Biscuit which shoes he wanted to wear today and, to my surprise, he ran and got the new shoes "These ones!" A victory smile consumed my face.

As with most things with the Biscuit, he came around in his own time. In the end, I was pleased I figured out a way to "win" with de-feet.

Why I Now Hate Bunnies

Bunny rabbits are soooooo cute. For most of my life I have loved cute, furry little bunny rabbits; truly I have. When I was a little girl, living in the glorious foothills of the Ozarks in the middle of "nowhere town" (my address was actually Route 2 or something like that) my brothers and I stumbled upon an abandoned bunny (abandoned being a nice way of explaining that my cat, Isis, stole the bunny from its momma and we saved it from sure death). As kids do, I tried to heal the bunny's wounds with alcohol and by trying to make a cotton ball stick to the open wound (cotton ball = kidthink for replacement of bunny fur). In the end, the bunny lived (I suppose) and wandered back to its hutch. From that day forward, I always had a soft spot for the bunny... until now.

Enter the devil bunnies, better known to all toddler parents as:

Max and Ruby. Ruby and Max.

Basic plot, Ruby tries to do something, Max foils it (and ends up saving the day in the end). Somehow, this low graphic, simple plot, simple theme song amazes my child. When asked what he wants to watch on TV his response is always the same: Max & Ruby. And no matter how many times he hears the theme song (the worst theme song in the history of) he always squeals with delight "Max and Ruby!"

Please know that my child truly does not watch much TV (1 hour or less a day) but 75% of that TV time is dedicated to our bunny pals. I, frankly, am quite tired of watching Max & Ruby but I do have 1 request of Nick Jr. "For the love of Pete, please make a new episode." If I must watch this, at least give me a new story to watch.

I long for the day when we hop beyond our bunny friends. What does this obsession say about the Biscuit I wonder?

It's Potty Time!

Well folks, I am on the eve of potty training with the Biscuit. Oh I can just smell it (or not smell it anymore I should say) -- no more stinky diaper pails. I think my diaper pail is pretty good at keeping the smells in, but as the Biscuit's digestive system develops, it becomes harder and harder to keep the smell in the pail. I dread flipping the lid to dump the diaper each time.

Okay, so I suppose I must fess up a bit. Yes, I really do believe in green living and nothing would make me happier than to stop using disposable diapers. I truly love the little 'g' diapers and I personally think I would be happier as a baby with a cloth diaper on, but daycare + "green" diapers do not mix. I use Pampers (I prefer Baby Dry, but can't find them in size 6 so I'm forced to use Cruisers). Frankly, if I ever end up with another baby who is a girl (which sadly it looks like I never will), I absolutely will use chlorine-free, recycled diapers (I'll blog on the reasons why we need to pay special attention to our developing baby girls in another blog) but for now, it is what it is and my filling up the landfills with diapers days are numbered!

The Biscuit has been showing more and more signs of potty-readiness lately. He can almost get his pants down on his own, he tells me when he's pottying, he's interested in the potty, and he often wakes up with a dry diaper. So, I decided it was time for the Biscuit to pick out his throne.

Many moons ago, when I initially thought he was "ready" for potty training (yes, a bit anxious I know), I bought him a seat to lay on top of our potty seat. This time, I went for the more accessible, on the floor potty. The Biscuit and I went shopping, he picked out the royal potty, and he held on to it the whole time we were in the store.

When we got the potty home, the Biscuit and I set it up in the bathroom, he pulled his pants down (I took off his diaper), and he sat on his new throne. The prince then proceeded to look down for about 5 seconds and Eureka: pee pee in the potty! My boy is a natural.

We both did the pee pee dance while the "royal potty" played the pee pee dance music. A suggestion to all: put a washable rug under the potty. Pee pee guards are just useless. Diaper days are numbered.

If only I knew what in the heck to do next.

Moving to a New House, Part 3

During one of the first nights that the Biscuit spent in the new house, he had a little bit of trouble sleeping through the night. I couldn't figure out why he kept waking up, but ended up in his room on a few occasions quieting him back to sleep.

The next morning, I went in to wake him and did our usual morning routine. When I asked the Biscuit if he had a good night's sleep (as I ask every morning), he replied, "No!" I was a bit shocked by this answer, since he usually promptly responds "yes, Mommy." I asked him why and he pointed in the direction of his closet door saying, "what's that?"

I took the Biscuit over to the closet door and he kept pointing upward. Finally, I realized that he was pointing at the doorstop near the upper hinge on the door. I lifted him up and said, "Did that scare you?" and the Biscuit replied, "touch it" so I let him touch it.

Since then, whenever he sees a doorstop he points to it saying "scared you." Now, it truly was cute to hear him say it, and I let him continue for a few days before correcting him with the actual word for the object. He still prefers to call it "scared you."

Makes me wonder, though, if a doorstop scared him and kept him up half the night, how in the world will we ever deal with monsters under the bed.

Moving to a New House, Part 1

As promised, we're back in the bloggin' business again. My many apologies for the delay in posting. The move to the new house was quite consuming, but I have lots to share from the experience.

Fortunately for us, we moved within the same general vicinity of our old house. I expected that the Biscuit would really only be forced to adapt to a new house with a new bedroom. One of the big changes that a typical move might involve, such as a new school/daycare, was not something we had to prepare the Biscuit for.

I started talking to the Biscuit about "moving to the new house" about 2 weeks before the actual move took place. He was already starting to get a bit fussy and unsettled (which showed in his sporadic, middle of the night wakings) when he started noticing that I was packing things up, the environment of the house was somewhat more stressful than usual, etc. I made 2 visits to the new house with the Biscuit prior to the actual move date.

It's amazing what simple pleasures children find in new things. The Biscuit was absolutely enamored with the doorbell at the new house. Each time we went for a visit, his main objective was to ring the doorbell. His teachers at school even picked up on the excitement about the doorbell and helped us to reinforce that positive association. It is always a great idea to keep the teachers in the loop on life changes.

The 1 thing that I knew I wanted to make sure of was that the Biscuit's room looked fairly similar (in positioning of furniture) to his old room. Unfortunately, the "will of the gods" stepped in to mess up my perfect plan to trick the Biscuit into thinking this was the "same ol' thing" just a different house.

As always seems to happen with in-town moves, we filled up our U-Haul truck before we had everything packed inside. We were then forced to make several moves with other cars and trucks to get the rest of our belongings to the new house. In one of the final trips, the glorious winds of fate stepped in and wrecked my perfect moving plans. As a tractor trailer passed by the truck, the beautiful crib that my son had spent the last 2 years of his life in took flight and caught 15 feet of air before coming crashing down into a rocky ditch on the side of the road. It was torn to shreds.

I had previously made plans for the Biscuit to spend the first 2 nights of our move at my mother's house so he wouldn't have to try and rest in the chaos. This gave me an extra day to figure out what to do about a new bed. It was a challenging decision because he is almost old enough for a toddler bed, but still isn't potty trained. I opted to purchase another crib that was similar to the old one, saving the additional change in beds for a later date (there is such a thing as too much change).

Much to my surprise, the Biscuit didn't seem to be bothered by the new bed. I didn't try to deceive him and, instead, told him outright that he had a new bed in his new house. He was excited about his new bed. Whew!

I can happily report that the Biscuit's first night sleeping in the new house went quite well. Once he was down for the count, he slept right on through the night. So tips so far are:

• Introduce the concept of the new house before the move
• Use positive tone and voice to talk about the new house and moving
• Minimize stress (if you can)
• Be aware that sleeping habits may be affected
• Make caretakers/teachers aware of the move so they can use positive language too
• Find something positive/reward that your toddler can associate with the move (e.g., ringing the doorbell)
• Adapt to the unexpected (e.g., shattered cribs)
• Give your toddler credit for being adaptable

Please share your tips too. More to come...

Teach Your Toddler Some Manners (Please)

Call me old fashioned, but I truly believe that you should raise a young boy to be a young gentleman. As soon as the Biscuit was able to say the words "please" and "thank you" we began incorporating the words into our daily lexical diet. Now he can express his wants and pleadings (for food usually) to me by saying "More please." And at only 22-months old, I am quite proud of the accomplishment.

Just this week, we started working on yes ma'am and yes sir (and the no's). The Biscuit is following suit very well. Maybe it is old fashioned (I hope I don't set him up to be bullied), but I have seen a few kids in today's society who still actually say these words (and I have seen so many who don't). I view it as a sign of respect for the parents (or teachers) and it just makes the child who says it seem more well-behaved than the next (who doesn't).

As an update, the pushing and hitting behavior calmed down pretty quickly after I brought home "the naughty stool" for the Biscuit. He responded so well to the discipline. No matter where we are (we find naughty stools/chairs/spots wherever we go so we can use them in a moment's notice), if I mention going to the naughty stool, the Biscuit pays attention. To be fair, our little naughty stool gets a lot of wear and tear (and sometimes he just sends himself there because he likes to sit on it) so I'm not saying that it is a true deterrent yet, but I certainly can say that tantrums are rare and I can quickly change his behavior just by mentioning the word "naughty."

All in all, the Biscuit is one well-behaved little boy. I think that a lot of love from a lot of family and teachers helps. I'm quite grateful for that because it makes it a lot easier to help him on his path to becoming a young gentleman.

Toddler Party Tricks

No, I'm not offering a list of things you can do at a 2-year old's party to entertain the kiddies, I'm talking about the horrible thing that some parents do: turn their toddlers into the entertainment. I'm quite guilty of this and the kharma wheel came back to bite me this weekend.

Being a fan of the University of Arkansas (Go hogs!), it was only natural that one of the skills that the Biscuit needed to learn was how to "call the Hogs." I decided to test it out on him last weekend. He picked it up like a champ. He's so smart.

Wooooooo PIG SOOOIE (click 2 see it on YouTube)! The Biscuit even had the hand motions down pat. When we went to visit his Starenka (his grandma; loosely Americanized it's pronounced stah zhenka) and grandpa, we showed off his new trick. He repeated it again at dinner. It was one of my most proud moments! Until Sunday...

Sunday morning we, as usual, went to church. (and you all know where this is heading) During the pastor's sermon, when all was quiet, the Biscuit (perched up in his Starenka's arms) began to call the Hogs in the midst of God and everyone.

Well, I hushed him fairly quickly and we giggled a bit. Guess that'll teach me not to use my child as a trained monkey. (but it was really funny)