Baby Squared

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  • Positive Reinforcement

    We're trying to do more of this around the Baby Squared household, as a means of fending off the whacking, kicking, hair pulling, whining, shouting, pants-pooping and other nastiness that seems to have proliferated 'round these parts over the past month or so.

     

    Partially as a result of the suggestion made by several fabulous readers/commenters on this very blog, we got ourselves a couple of "Responsibility Charts" by Melissa & Doug. (This is not a paid endorsement, however if Melissa & Doug, Inc. would like to send me some free stuff, I'd be more than happy to be a total blog whore and write about it here.) There are a bunch of "responsibility" magnets to choose from, ranging from very preschool-appropriate stuff like "keep your hands to yourself" to stuff I hope we won't have to use for awhile, like "Don't use bad language." Next to each one, there are spaces to put happy face magnets.

     

    There are also a couple of blank responsibility magnets you can write stuff one (dry erase!) so on each girl's chart there's currently one magnet that says "Poop in potty." (This is still a bit of an issue for Elsa.) Alastair pointed out that "potty," probably would have been sufficient. But I say, anyone who comes into our home had better be prepared for the fact that poop is a frequent point of discussion.

     

     

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  • A Not So Happy Halloween

    I don't know if it's the full moon, daylight savings, Halloween, or perhaps all three -- and maybe a molar coming in? -- but Clio has been having a rough time of things lately.

     

    At the girls' preschool Halloween parade / show / party whatever thing last Thursday, she wouldn't wear her costume, started crying when her class went up on stage to sing "I'm a Little Pumpkin," and spent the rest of the event being held by her teacher. It was a little bit heartbreaking to see the pictures (Alastair was there; I wasn't) but I really did sympathize with the poor girl. It's no fun being forced to wear a costume if you don't feel like it. And getting up on stage in a big room in front of dozens of parents and kids is absolutely scary. (To sing a stupid song about gourds, no less.)  In fact, I'm sort of surprised more kids didn't melt down.

     

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  • The Defiant Ones

    Elsa and Clio are having some authority issues. Particularly at bedtime. I suppose this isn't surprising. They're at their tiredest and crankiest at the end of the day, AND they don't particularly want to go to bed. Not to mention the fact that I am starving (we still eat after they go to bed, for a variety of reasons) and, four days out of seven, have had a long day at work and am looking forward to relaxing, so I'm not at my best, and am not interested in letting the bedtime ritual drag on indefinitely.

     

    So I am finding myself at my wits' end lately when, for example, one of them will refuse to brush her teeth. She'll simply refuse to leave the nursery and come into the bathroom. Or she will do something silly, like Clio did the other night: dance around the hall wearing a pair of sunglasses (upside down) and make goofy faces, while I tried to help Elsa brush her teeth. Of course, Elsa thought what Clio was doing looked like a lot more fun, and started asking me to go downstairs and find her sunglasses, too, so she could do the same thing. Oral hygiene was a lost cause. I don't even remember how I finally got everyone to shut the hell up (oh dear; did I just write that? Yes I did) and brush their damned teeth (and that? Oh, my). Somehow I did. But by the time I'd read them their books, wrangled them into their cribs and given them the ten thousand "just one more" kisses and hugs and back rubs they wanted, I was totally fried. 

     

     

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  • The Weirdest Mommy on the Block

    I recently picked up a copy of Harvey Karp's The Happiest Toddler on the Block from my favorite local bookstore, the Salvation Army. I'd heard good things about it from a few people, and I'd also found the Swaddling-shushing-swaying-shishkebabing-etc. advice from Karp's Happiest Baby useful when the girls were young, though I never actually read the book. (The S's were just the word on the street.)

     

    I haven't read all of Happiest Toddler. I've skipped around a bit and focused on the sections that dealt specifically with two-year-olds. So far, I have mixed feelings about the book. Overall, it was a little too "cute" for my taste stylistically (enough with the exclamation points, Harvey!) and a lot of the advice just isn't practical for twins. Or any toddler, for that matter. Nightly massages before bed, complete with massage oil? Uh huh. Right. But the insights into toddlers' emotional and cognitive development were great, and most of the advice seemed to make a lot of sense on an instinctual level.

     

    There was one particular tactic Karp recommends that I'd love to know if anyone else out there has tried. He calls it speaking "Toddler-ese" -- basically, talking to toddlers in their own language when they're upset / angry. You start by acknowledging what they want or feel, to let them know that they are heard and understood, then you shift into what you'd like them to do. Sounds pretty sensible, right? But when you look at the examples of what this might actually sound like....well, here's one example he gave, of what a mother said to her 32-month old twins who were fighting over a ball:

     

     

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  • No means no -- usually.

    I'm finding that one of the toughest parts about parenting nearly-two-year-olds is deciding when and when not to let them have their way, and how to maintain some semblance of consistency while also being flexible. Obviously, in some cases, there's no room for negotiation: no, you can't go outside without a jacket; no, you can't play with that steak knife; no, you can't borrow the car.

     

    But so much of the time it's a judgement call. Last night, for example, I made the girls a nutritious and colorful dinner of veggie burger, sweet potato fries and green beans -- all foods that they generally like. I gave them ketchup for dipping, too. (It's a vegetable!) But they wouldn't eat any of it. (Well, Elsa ate some of the ketchup.) Then Clio started asking for applesauce. Elsa, of course, joined in. (Which is frustrating because I think, given time, she might have actually eaten her dinner.)

     

    I tried the whole "you can have applesauce if you eat one bite of veggie burger and one bean" approach, but I honestly don't think the girls quite grasp the logic of delayed gratification yet. In the end, after much whining (from both them and me) I folded and gave them applesauce. They both ate, like, two giant bowls of it. So they were obviously hungry. But not for veggie burger, beans and sweet potato fries with ketchup. (Note: I also tried getting them to dip their sweet potato fries, etc. in the applesauce, but they just licked it off. Foiled!)

     

    Did I do the wrong thing? Should I have refused to give in? Sent them to bed, then served them their untouched dinners the next morning, cold, a la Mommie Dearest? Or are you supposed to not worry too much about what your kids at this age eat at any one meal, as long as they get some protein, vitamins and fiber in over the course of the day?

     

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  • Two times two equals f#&%

    We had a nice Thanksgiving weekend. Really, we did. There was lots of good food and no family drama. We got some serious, slothful relaxation in, too: the night before Thanksgiving, at my brother's house, we drank wine, ate pizza, and watched five straight hours of Top Chef. I've decided I'm going to start talking to Elsa and Clio like one of the contestants to get them more interested in their food: "What I've done here is taken circular oat cereal, rustled it into a bowl and then quickly doused it with just the right amount of fresh, cold milk. Finally, I've topped it off with some thinly-sliced, ripe banana. Enjoy."

     

    We also had twenty-eight glorious child-free hours together on the Maine coast, which we spent doing the sort of things we used to do way back when: browsing in shops, eating more frequently than is biologically necessary, talking about everything from our college days to our future plans to how Abraham Lincoln won the Republican nomination. (A. is reading Team of Rivals.) We were silly and stupid and flirty. And man, it was nice to go to sleep in a big, soft, king-size antique bed and not have to negotiate which one of us was going to get up with the girls in the morning.

     

    Though I can't say I really *missed* the girls, by the time we headed back to my parents' house, I was eager to see them. They greeted us with bright smiles, said "Mommy Daddy here!", let us kiss them, and then proceeded to have total, screaming meltdowns. Both of them.

     

    Video (not of the meltdowns) after the jump.

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  • T-I-M-E O-U-T

    You're probably all familiar with the need to spell out certain words in front of your toddlers once they pick up that pesky habit of understanding English. Woe to the parent who foolishly utters the word C-O-O-K-I-E without the intent of immediately handing one over to any small child within earshot. And don't mention that you're going to take your kids to the P-L-A-Y-G-R-O-U-N-D unless you intend to go THAT VERY SECOND. 

     

    But certain words, you would think, are safe to say aloud -- things that kids aren't interested in, like "credit card," "recycling," or "corkscrew." Or things that pertain to them, but that they don't find particularly appealing and aren't likely to start begging for, like "crib" or "time-out." Right? Well, yes. Except ixnay on that last one in the Baby Squared household.

     

     

     

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  • No More Mr. Nice Mom

    So, I've decided that I am too much of a pushover when it comes to satisfying Elsa and Clio's every whim. Or, perhaps more accurately, that they're old enough to start understanding that they can't have every little thing they want, whenever they want it. (And by "thing" and "whim," please understand, I am primarily speaking of graham crackers.) 

     

    Seriously, if given the choice, the girls would carb-load non-stop from 3pm until dinner time. (And then throw their dinner on the floor.) It's not like I've been completely lax in the past, but I've been inconsistent -- often saying no, no, no and then eventually giving in when I get sick of the whining and fussing. Really, it's not behavior you want to be modeling for your daughters.

     

     

     

    "Cracky?"

     

     

     

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  • Laughter is not the best discipline

    As I've noted on previous occasions, Clio is a silly baby. From the very beginning, she's made us laugh. Something about her expressions, her mannerisms, her overall demeanor is just...silly. She loves to giggle, particularly when broad, physical humor is involved. And she's prone to doing random, silly things, like tilting her head from side to side and saying "blah blah blah blah blah" (my best guess is that this is an imitation of me) or spontaneously going into a perfect downward dog. We never taught her this; she just does it. And with such excellent form!

     

     

    The latest twist on Clio's silliness, however, is not so innocent. It turns out she finds it very, very funny when I say "no" to her. And she finds it downright hilarious to test limits. Por ejemplo: there is a floor lamp in our living room that she likes to grab onto and shake. It's got a pretty sturdy, weighted base, so I don't think she's likely to topple the thing, but still. This is not behavior I want to encourage. So I firmly tell her, "No no, Clio, please don't touch, I don't want the lamp to fall and hurt you, etc. etc." And Clio finds this very funny. She takes her hands off the lamp, smiles, and then holds on again, waiting for my reaction. So I say "no" again. She laughs. I say no some more, and finally she lets go. Then she tries just touching the lamp with one finger, grinning and twinkly-eyed, to see what I'll do.

     

    And my friends, I can't help it: I simply cannot keep a straight face. I try so hard, but eventually I break down. I just can't look at her (That smile! And one finger! That's sophisticated humor!) and not laugh or smile. And I know that this is not helping her learn that when mama says no, mama means it. Granted, I don't think I'd have a hard time staying stern if she was, say, putting her finger into an electrical outlet. But I'd like her to respect my "no's" in general, whether she's in mortal danger or just doing mischevious stuff like throwing her food on the floor or shaking lamps.

     

    What should I do? Should I ignore her when she tests limits? Not look at her when I say my no's? Or do I just need to work harder on my poker face? I will admit that there's also this (weak. weak!) part of me that does't want to show anger or displeasure with her, lest she think that it's not all right to be silly and playful sometimes. I mean, I'm guessing it's pretty tough for a toddler to try to sort out why some things are OK and some things aren't. Why is it all right to stand up in the crib, but not in the bathtub? Why is it OK to throw a ball, but not a cup? It's my job to teach her these things, and hopefully to get her to realize when mama means business. But I suspect it's not going to work too well if I'm giggling the whole time.

     

    Who among us is not powerless in the face of a baby with good comic timing? Help!

     

     



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About the Blogger

Jane Roper

Jane Roper in Boston

One baby? Piece of cake. Try two. This working mother gives you the inside scoop on the ultimate in extreme parenting: twins.

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