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  • Poopophobia

     

    Sorry to post yet again about bodily functions -- I won't do it again for a while -- but with little'uns it's kind of hard to avoid. My apologies, also, to future Elsa. I have visions of her coming home from school on her compost-powered hoverboard, in tears, having just seen this post broadcasted on the web-browser blackboard in her homeroom by some mean, popular hacker-girl trying to sabotage Elsa's chances at winning class president. "Mom, you told the entire world about my elimination habits 15 years ago on one of those "plog" things? What's WRONG with you? Now no one will want to go to the prom with me!" (Because some things will never change...) 

     

     

    Of course, the long-term effects of this blog on my children and their prom date prospects are a whole other can of worms, which I will surely open and examine here sometime, but not today. Today, let's talk about #2.  And how lately, Elsa seems quite upset by the whole business of doing her business.

     

     

     

     

     

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  • Poison Control Call #2

    Me: Um, hi, I think my daughter may have swallowed a crayon. Or part of one.

     

    (We were drawing -- Elsa and Clio and me. Well, sort of. They've just gotten to the point where they vaguely understand the concept of scribbling. They mostly prefer putting the crayons in their boxes and taking them out again. Anyway, Elsa was standing on the paper -- a cut-open shopping bag, actually -- and I thought it would be fun to trace her foot. But not long after I did, she became mildly distraught. I thought it was because I got some crayon on her toenails. Not that this is the sort of thing that would normally bother her, but who knows? Maybe the girl just didn't dig blue toenails, right? It's a little out there, a little weird. So I wiped off the crayon as best I could, but she kept whimpering, and it gradually escalated to crying. Then she was putting her fingers in her mouth and making "yuck" faces, much like she did after she ate dishwasher detergent.)

     

    PC: She'll be fine. Crayons are non-toxic.

     

    (Phew!  Yes, that's right! In fact, I've known this for as long as I could read. I remember looking at Crayola crayon boxes and seeing those words, front and center: "Non-toxic." (And then something about different brilliant colors...) And I remember asking my mother what it meant. In fact, I've probably known that crayons are non-toxic longer than I've known that bees die when they sting you and no two snowflakes are alike. Not that this stopped me from calling poison control...)

     

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  • The Word of the Month Club

    In the beginning -- well, back when the girls were around 11 months old -- there was "Dah!" meaning dog, (or pretty much anything with four legs) and it was good. About a month later came "nana" (banana, then any food), and soon after that it was "cah" (car) and "shizz" (shoes) and so on. But it seemed like each time a new word was acquired, the old one suddenly fell out of fashion and they'd rarely if ever say it. (Dah? What's a dah? Come on, Mommy, let's talk about shizz!)

     

     

    There are definitely still word "fads" around here -- "babies" is the big one this week -- but in the last month or so it seems like finally the girls are hanging onto multiple words, and employing them with increasing accuracy. Clio is the more verbal of the two; she tends to use more words (and signs) than Elsa, and is eager to learn new ones. Elsa, meanwhile, is more interested in honing her gross motor skills (i.e. climbing, pillaging, plundering, ransacking).  Of course, we suspected all along that this might be the case. Elsa was always ahead physically, but Clio started cooing and babbling well before she did. Ah, yes, I remember it well.....(Flashback! Wavy screen....)

     

     

     

    Ha -- at the time, this seemed incredibly impressive and interactive to us. It's all relative, ain't it?

     

    Anyway, we're having fun seeing both girls add more words to their vocabularies. I'd say between them they have maybe 10 or so in all, and they obviously understand much more than that. But the real language "explosion" that I hear people talk about hasn't come yet. In fact, I think in general E & C are a little behind the curve in their language acquisition skills. I'm not worried, though. It's supposedly normal for twins to talk later than singleton kids. It can be due in part to premature birth (not the case here, as ours were born at a healthy 37 weeks, at 5 pounds each), but can also be a result of the way caregivers communicate and interact with twins. It's a little sad, actually: twins don't get as much one-on-one time with parents or caregivers, so they don't get as many opportunities to learn and practice verbal communication. And because wrangling twins can be stressful and tiring, caregivers tend to talk to their kids a little less and use more quick directives ("drink your milk," "don't take your sister's book," "come here," etc.). Apparently this is why second children sometimes talk later, too.

     

    Then there's the "Twin talk" theory; that twins communicate with each other in their own "language," so they're slower to learn the language of us big people. I haven't really seen much evidence of this between Elsa and Clio, unless you count stealing toys or food away from each other causing the other to scream and cry as some special form of "communication." Or, maybe their twin talk is so secret and sophisticated that I don't even notice it. Maybe they send telepathic messages to each other: "Hey, mom's trying to get us ready to go out somewhere in the cah. Let's both poop!"

     

    I'm curious to hear from readers -- especially moms of twins -- when did the language thing really "take off" for your kids?

     


  • The Diaper Chronicles

    A few notes on diapers (and related matters) in the Baby Squared household. Note: this post involves graphic discussion of matters scatalogical and butt-o-logical. Reader discretion advised. Because the writer certainly didn't exercise any.

     

    1. Our babies got back, apparently. A couple of weeks ago, we had to switch from size 3 diapers to size 4. We use Seventh Generation, and their size 3 diapers claim to go from 16 - 28 pounds, but my girls are nowhere near 28 pounds! I guess there are some long, tall, skinny-assed 28-pound babies out there that these diapers fit. I would be incredibly curious to see what these children look like. Meanwhile, the size 4 diapers puportedly fit babies from 22-37 pounds. Again, I seriously doubt that either of my girls are 22 pounds yet, but apparently they have 22-37 pound booty, because the size 3 diapers were just not doing the job. I couldn't get the sides to overlap front to back. I had to stre-e-e-tch the tabs, so that sometimes it looked like the girls were wearing string bikinis. Very puffy, bulky, crinkly string bikinis. Not very good for poop containment. And speaking of poop....

     

    2. Solid food poop stinks. Literally and figuratively. Back in the day, when the girls were getting nothing but breastmilk, their poop smelled like buttered popcorn. Seriously! It was almost pleasant. Now -- ugh. Nasty. Multi-hued. Unpredictable. And the fact that they're more mobile and squirmy on the changing table makes cleaning up that much more treacherous. They're also doing their business a lot more frequently, it seems, and at all hours of the day. Clio, especially. In fact, Alastair composed a little song that we like to sing about Clio and her new...er...nocturnal habits:

     

     Sleep pooper! She poops in her sleep!

    Poop sleeper! She sleeps in her poop!

     

    3. If it feels good, do it, right? Yes, of course. It's perfectly natural for babies and children to touch themselves down there. But must they do it while having their diapers changed? I don't want to discourage this sort of happy exploration. I don't want to be saying "no, no, no," while they're getting to know themselves, doin' what comes naturally, etc. But what do you do when your baby is gleefully plunging their little hands into a big ole mess? How do you expain to an 11 month old that yes, it's perfectly OK to touch their own bodies, just NOT NOW, PLEASE! Please.

     

    You know what? I'm sorry. I've gone too far. I've said too much. Special apologies to all you non-parent readers out there. Let me attempt to make it up to you with this very sweet, non-butt-or-poop-or-anything-else-related picture of the girls on their first Thanksgiving, taking a joyride on their new Winnie the Poop -- I mean Pooh -- rider.

     

    Poop poop! Here we come!

     



in

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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