Don't wake the sleeping toddler

Spaghetti is not a sleeper. Right now, she is currently asleep in the hallway since she is not a sleeper. Ever since the Meatball left for the summer (more on that in another post), Pretty Pants and I have been struggling to get our rambunctious toddler on a sleeping routine.

It was easier during the school year as the Meatball and Spaghetti would sleep together. But now that she's all by her lone self, adding the fact that Spaghetti is a light close to non-sleeper, all free time in the evening has been lost to trying to put Spaghetti to sleep. For the last 30 days, we've tried them all: coercion, threats, routine, even falling asleep beside her... none of them seem to work consistently.

So for now, I give up. Today, I'll scoop her up off the floor after I've had my 'me' time and tuck her away in her bed. Because most times, life like an eager toddler, does not want to fit into a routine.

come potty with me... part two

You may remember our jump on the potty brigade? Well it's been about 2 months since we introduced Pull-Ups and the potty to Spaghetti. With the mild coercion from her school (okay, not mild, they forced us and we gave in) Spaghetti has been intermittently using her potty. To be quite honest, Pretty Pants and I haven't been putting in a 110% into the whole potty training thing only bringing her to her potty every couple hours or so when we remember instead of the advised one time every hour. Ah well.

Since Spaghetti had started potty training she also switched daycares (she now goes to daycare at the same school as the Meatball). My husband and I didn't inquire on their position on potty training. We figured we'd ask once she got a little more acclimated. However, last week, we got the the note. Please bring 5 pants, 5 pairs of socks and 5 panties for next week. Next week?!? Again, my anxiety shot through the roof! I thoroughly hate potty training. It took about forever (well not forever but awhile) to potty train the Meatball. I once had a puppy and had no patience in potty training him either, 13 year later the poor dog is still semi-potty trained. So when I got the note and when the provider asked, "Do you want to start tomorrow or wait until next week?" Of course, I responded, "Next week, I'm totally fine with next week, thanks."

I've already shared the reasons to my anxiety towards potty training. It seemed like Spaghetti picked up on my anxiety (or she's just brilliant) because as she watched me prepare her potty training supply. She quickly grabbed a panty and yelled, "I want to wear this!" Totally taken by surprise, I said, "What? You want to wear this, now?" She nodded her head in excitement and started to pull off her pants and Pull-Ups. I asked in hesitation, "Are you sure you don't want to wait until school tomorrow?" "No, Mommy I want to wear them now!" Great.

For the rest of the afternoon until dinner, bath time and bed time, Spaghetti got her wish. She wore a Pull-Up free panty, successfully! Not an accident in sight! Whew. Once bedtime rolled around and I put her in Pull-Ups she seemed to understand that maybe she wasn't ready to go without at night just yet. Looking back, it's a little funny in moments like these where I feel like my child is teaching me. With Spaghetti and her potty training, she was ready and she needed me to be ready. Which really meant I had to put all my anxiety and dread of the potential mess aside and step up to the plate for her. Support her efforts and who knows, she just may surprise me. In this instance, she surely did.

When did you know your child was ready for potty training?

Momma Mina Loves Yo Gabba Gabba!

It's an exciting time for children's television! No longer are we in a society where parenthood is viewed as being old or out of style. Parents, we are now being described  (and owning it!) as "cool", "chic", "modern", "hip".  And sure that drives some criticism, but realistically, what generation before theirs didn't consider themselves perfect or patronized generation(s) that would follow?

But alas, that is a bigger topic than this post. With the natural progression of a generation maturing, we also see media that caters to their general interests (like the links above). Note to self: I am not as cool as the blogs I like, ho hum. I am however intolerant of a big, singing purple dinosaur, more intrigued about the backstory of Blue's owner(s), and let's not even talk about those four Australian (were they from Australia?) males who really looked ridiculous in those Star Trek outfits!

So thank God (really.) for Yo Gabba Gabba! Twenty minutes of dizzying fun, engaging visuals and Anthony Bourdain or the Roots or Biz Markie, say what? As for the educational piece (since we are parents after all), DJ Lance Rock and cast center each show around soft skills, the environment and holidays. Singing a song with the Roots about loving my family is definitely more appealing to my ears than the loving you, loving me of that dinosaur, who will still remained unnamed, sorry. Because aren't children shows supposed to be enjoyed by ALL family members?

Without further ado, some clips:
Children learn how dance moves with guest stars like Mya!



Yo Gabba Gabba comes to your town!


Finally, our family favorite:

Sibling Un-rivalry

I have always had an issue with the Meatball and Spaghetti being 6 years apart. Not that I had planned their ages intentionally, but I guess in the grand scheme of things I would've liked to have seen a smaller age gap. I assumed that a smaller age gap would bring them closer together naturally or that they would just have more in common and relate as friends not just siblings. I was afraid that because of their difference in age they wouldn't be as bonded. But what did I know? I'm an only child. And now realize I didn't have a thing to worry about.

Ever since I was pregnant with Spaghetti though, I've almost always have gotten annoyed with family members (the Colonel and Rambo included) telling the Meatball how now that she was going to be a big sister, she had to help me out as much as she could. "Okay, Meatball, be sure to help your Mommy around the house now." "Meatball you have to help take care of your little sister for your mommy now."  I would cringe every time someone would say something to that effect. I wasn't looking at our newest addition to turn the Meatball into Mommy's Little Helper or Mommy 2.0! I was worried that all this Meatball helping me around the house and with her sister would make her grow up too fast. All this advise motivated me to preserve Meatball's childhood as much as I could, especially when Spaghetti was born.

For the nine months of Spaghetti's life, I never asked the Meatball for help. I pretty much let her do her own thing (color, play legos, watch The Electric Company) and made sure that she knew she didn't need to help. For a while there I thought what I was doing worked well, however, I started to notice a couple things that I didn't expect. First, the Meatball wasn't connecting with her sister. She didn't know how to play with an infant and well there's not much playing going on with an infant. Secondly, the Meatball was starting to do more and more things by herself which seemed pretty isolating. Third, Pretty Pants and I were exhausted.

So I finally asked for help. I needed to take a shower and had asked the Meatball if she could just watch her sister. To my surprise the Meatball was very happy to take on this responsibility. It was almost like she took on this secondary maternal role towards her sister, which in reality, was her falling into the role of big sister! All my fears of her feeling too much obligation, too much responsibility once she had a sibling had diminished as I observed their sibling bond grow through the Meatball taking care of her sister. I guess that's what siblings are supposed to do. And maybe since I didn't have an example to reflect on, I couldn't understand the concept. Today, they are inseparable (at least for now); sleeping, eating, bathing, and playing together. Spaghetti adores the ground Meatball walks on, mimicking her every word and move. In turn, the Meatball adores her little sister, teaching and guiding her just as older sisters should. Do I still cringe at big sister, big obligation remarks? Yes, but in our house, it simply doesn't happen that way. These two have each others' backs, no obligation necessary.

sleeping like queens

My two year old, Spaghetti, is not what I would call a good sleeper. Compared to her sister, Meatball, who has slept like an angel (on time and through the night) since birth, getting Spaghetti to sleep (and stay asleep has always been challenging. So when it was time for Spaghetti to make the transition to a toddler bed a couple months ago, she wouldn't have it.

My husband, Pretty Pants and I had the normal bedtime routine down: bath, story, prayer, song and a soothing sound machine. Even with all our efforts, she would still creep out of bed and try to sneak herself into her play things in the living room as if we wouldn't notice her. Since we were always in the living room after we put her to bed, we tried a different tactic and went to our bedroom instead in the hopes that Spaghetti would think everyone was sleeping too. This plan had a different success than we had expected. After a few hours of hiding out in our bedroom, my husband and I checked Spaghetti's room only to find she wasn't there! Instead, we found our girls, squished together on Meatball's twin sized bed sound asleep. All of a sudden, Spaghetti made a new bedtime routine: bath, story, prayer, song, soothing sound machine, sneak into my sister's bed.

After a few weeks of "sneaking around" my husband and I decided, why not just have them share a bed? It took us some time to deliberate over this matter. We considered their age gap (Meatball, 8; Spaghetti, 2) Would this be appropriate? Would they disrupt each other's sleep? I even asked my mother, the Colonel, only to get the 7-of-us-had-to-sleep-in-one-room-in-the-Philippines story on repeat. Then we asked Meatball if she thought it was okay and we knew she had mixed emotions about it: for one, she didn't know if she wanted to sleep with her sister but then again it was better than sleeping by herself, so she agreed. We couldn't afford to buy another bed but we did have a daybed with a trundle that the Colonel had given us for our spare bedroom. Luckily for us, we were able to convert the two twins we had to a king sized bed.

For a good two months, the transition worked out perfectly. For the girls, it was like a mini-slumber party every night before they went to bed. For my husband and I we were able to get an hour of our relaxation time back. We decided to check in with Meatball every six months or so to see if she was still okay with the sleeping arrangements. But at the same time, enforcing our parental authority that this is what they had to do. Lola, their grandmother, had to do it in the Philippines growing up, so why can't they? After two blissful months of more rest for everyone, Spaghetti went back to taking about an hour to settle down and sleep. Sometimes she still wakes up in the middle of the night, in which case either Pretty Pants or I or both of us can now lie down next to her and her snoring sister on their big king bed where we can all sleep like royalty.

a birth story 2.0

Our little Spaghetti turned two over the weekend! I can remember it so vividly. Some of you have asked to share my story, so here it is. I wrote this about a month after Spaghetti was born and still count my blessings every day. Enjoy!

I had my routine checkup w/our OB Tuesday morning where she stripped my membrane. The OB said that usually stripping the membrane usually induces labor. Spaghetti was not due until another couple weeks (2/29, leap year) so I didn't believe she would come so soon. To enhance the "induction" I went home and had a pepperoni/jalapeno pizza, they said spicy food helps the labor along as well.

With still no contractions and high doubts, I went to class that night. I arrived home at about 10:30p and still nothing alarming. At about midnight, I started to feel the contractions, Pretty Pants had already went to bed and I did not wake him until I knew for sure. During this time, I started to chart my contractions, they didn't seem too painful but just in case I took a shower, ensured we had our bags ready and studied. At about 2:30a I could no longer write down my contractions, so I woke Pretty Pants up, he too, didn't feel that sense of urgency (looking back he thought I was way too calm!) so he also got ready, showered, and called the hospital. We even set up the car seat in between contractions! Within the next two hours chaos reared its ugly head, the contractions were coming closer, the hospital  had no beds, I could not stand up, the hospital still had no beds, Pretty Pants had woken up Meatball, at this point the pain was excruciating, and in an almost the same instance: Pretty Pants started to pack up the car, Meatball was holding my hand, the hospital had called to say they were ready for us and my water had broke!!

I barely could get into the car so I laid on my side in the back seat. I remember bracing Meatball w/my free arm as Pretty Pants backed out of the driveway. At this point, the contractions seemed to be tripping over each other, then I felt my body start to push to the point where I could feel the top of Spaghetti's head. Each time my body pushed I would relay the message to Pretty Pants and the Meatball gave him a play by play. ("Mommy can feel the head, Pretty Pants!") Feeling her head, I realized I had to make a decision to push with my body and deliver Spaghetti because I didn't want her to be "stuck" in any way. After about 3 pushes (her head, her tailbone, then her whole body) Spaghetti was born.

Five minutes later, we arrived at the hospital. Pretty Pants ran to get help, at first, they came out with just a wheelchair and an orderly, then they returned with 5 people peering into our back seat looking at me, Meatball and Spaghetti. The onduty physician got into the car on top of me, cut off my pajamas, cut Spaghetti's umbilical cord and took her away. After I had delivered the placenta, we all soon followed inside.

After a couple hours of recovery and quite an adventure, we were all finally together. Meatball even lost her first tooth while waiting to see her new sister! After so much excitement, we were all just very happy and thankful that Spaghetti was healthy and now with us.

Happy 2nd birthday, Spaghetti!

sandboxes: the unnecessary evil

It's quite challenging to have kids cooped up in the house all day, especially toddlers. There's only so much coloring, hiding and seeking, and watching episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba and Sesame Street that our 23 month old Spaghetti can do before she decides to venture into pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinet, unrolling the toilet paper or climb furniture. So to relieve her (and us) from cabin fever we try to get outside as much as we can. The other day, Pretty Pants and I took Spaghetti to Golden Gate Park Children's Playground to expend some of her energy.

She spent a good 45 minutes going down 3 slides she had in her rotation before her attention span started to dwindle. Noticing her restlessness, my husband and I redirected her attention to the swings across the park. "Look Spaghetti, look at the swings!! Whee!" As we made our way to the swings we crossed over children playing in the sand. Spaghetti was very curious about this scene as she dug her feet deeper and deeper into the grainy substance while we walked along. Just as she was about to pause to reach her hand out to actually touch the strange mass, Pretty Pants made one quick scoop to pick our daughter up in his arms and carry her to the swing. No sand for her, he glanced at me knowingly.

I don't know about you but I don't get the whole sandbox thing. Why are children so intrigued by it? What makes it fun? For me, it pretty much seems like quite a nuisance cleaning between crevices of your child's body already but after a romp in the sand? No thanks, I'll pass. It's bad enough that as parents we have to clean up after them on natural spills like poop and pee, acid reflux or spaghetti dribble. But really? Throwing your kid in the sand to let them become more dirty... I just don't get it. Not to mention the inevitable sand in the shoes, sand in the socks, sand surprising you in your car, that's a lot of sand!

The only place sand is good for is at the beach. It's the only place that makes sense. Living in Northern California, there's not much time spent on a warm beach. So I know that if we are going to the beach, that we're going to be there for a whole day and not just one quick jump in the sandbox. The trade off of time versus cleanup just makes sense to me at the beach. Allow your child to build sandcastles? Fine! Bury their bodies up to their necks in sand? Even better! Got some of that sand in your behind? Awesome, let me take you to the shore so we can rinse some of that off and if it's not completely clean there's a shower in the parking lot. Seriously, keep the sand where it belongs... on the beach.

come potty with me

Another indication that time is flying by. Last week, Spaghetti’s daycare provider, Ms. P told me to bring pull-ups for next week. “What?”, I responded but really wanted to wail, “She isn’t even two yet!!” Pretty Pants and I weren’t ready to begin potty training and were secretly dreading the day that we would have to start. From my prior experience with the Meatball, potty training is not a whole lot of fun. It requires extra, extra amounts of patience and extra time for cleaning up messes. Being woken up by your potty-in-training child at 3 a.m. letting you know she wet the bed and now you have to change her (and the sheets) when you really needed that good night’s sleep for your early meeting the next day… right, not fun. So the jury’s still out if we’re thankful for the shove onto the potty train ride that Ms. P gave us, “Please, bring pull-ups. If I train here and you train at home, she will learn fast” Great, thanks. But regardless of the dreadfulness we felt tackling this adventure, we agreed. Spaghetti was to join the potty brigade.
 

They say that most toddlers show readiness for potty training between 18 and 24 months. Matching Spaghetti up to a list, I found on BabyCenter I had observed she met all the criteria. If she was ready, then we had to be ready too. We purchased some pull ups and got her a potty chair that jingles when she tinkles with some extra fun perks: a pretend flusher, a toilet paper holder and there’s even a smiling face painted on the potty. If that darn thing doesn’t make potty training “fun” I don’t know what will. Ms. P had advised us to take Spaghetti to the potty every hour so that she would get used to going to the bathroom. Every time she were to go potty, we should cheer her on. So I made a call to my mother, the Colonel and told her we started potty training Spaghetti. “Wow, so fast! You guys do things so fast here!”, she replied. I asked her if she had any tips and she laughed. “You know, in the Philippines there was no potty training. If you pee in your pants, you pee in your pants and that’s how you learned. They only have those kind of potty training here.” Oh those kind… right. I’m going to take a stab and define “those kind”. “Those kind” actually translates into: in the Philippines we didn’t have or make the time to hold your hand, buy you a pretty potty and get all happy if you pee. Potty training? Maybe a little harsh, but gets the job done.

So here we are with two very different potty training practices: Ms. P’s gradual practice-makes-perfect potty training and the Colonel’s hit-the-ground-running-but-change-your-pants-if-you-potty training. Both have validity. (See the Diaper Free program on BabyCenter for a structured version of Colonel’s technique) We haven’t tried the Colonel’s technique yet but may entertain the idea once we have a free weekend to clean up every accident. But I’m happy to report that Spaghetti is catching on to the whole potty business and squeals in delight when her potty sings a song whenever she goes, while Pretty Pants and I are there waiting to give her high fives for a job well done. No wonder that potty is smiling.