Mine mine mine, all mine

whine and cheese

Our latest project is attempting to teach our child not to whine.

So far, nobody has been killed or even lost a limb, so on the whole it's not going too shabbily.

Basically, what we do is, when he starts whining, we exhort him to "use your words." As Drew does not possess many words, he then attempts to communicate his needs to us in a series of one- or two-word phrases. Lather, rinse, repeat until the lightbulb comes on and we, the parents, finally get it.

I've noticed that his most pressing need appears to be food, but only when he's in the car. I'm starting to think that's the only time he'll eat. He'll whine, we'll tell him to use his words and he responds with, "Eat", for which he is rewarded with a Cheese Nip or a Teddy Graham or whatever tidbit of food I can find under my car seat. (heh, not really. ..no, really. I would never...)

He hasn't mastered the words "drink" or "milk" yet, so when he's thirsty, he throws an empty sippy cup in our laps, grabs our hands and leads us to the refrigerator.

But where does he find the empty sippy cups? you might ask, to which I would respond shut up and hire me a housekeeper if you're that concerned about it.

Some new words he's added to his repertoire this week: Boat, Lila (his great-grandmother's name - she came over for a visit), Butterfly (although he pronounced it "blaguflah", I knew what he was trying to say), Goat and Toe.

Oh, speaking of that last word, he's also started this new trick of pretending to trip and stub his toe, and then pouting until I offer to kiss it all better. I wonder where he learned to be such a drama king?

Chucky vs. Gatti

Last night we went to Chuck E. Cheese for pizza with a side order of mayhem.  It's been a long time since I've been to Chucky's - we had been taking Drew to Gattitown. However, after a thorough and painstaking analysis, I've come to the following conclusions, one of which is that I really have too much time on my hands:

	Chuck E. Cheese	Gattitown
Pizza	Tasty and filling, but you have to order it and wait 10-15 minutes for it to arrive at your table. Not particularly toddler-friendly.	Tasty and filling and you simply get it off the pizza bar. No waiting. Lots of grubby hands in close proximity to your slice, though.
Rides	Geared more towards toddlers, preschoolers and elementary-school age kids.	Geared more towards junior-high kids. Only two toddler-appropriate rides available.
Ambience	Bright and noisy. One big open space with lots of kids running about helter skelter knocking into each other. Easy to keep track of your child because there’s no place for him to hide.	Dim and noisy. A lot of smaller spaces and rooms to separate the teeming masses. Easy to lose your child – lots of hiding places and dark corners.
Toddler Happiness Scale	Drew gives it 8 out of 10 happy dances. Long wait for the pizza mitigated by wide variety of age-appropriate games.	Drew gives it 4 out of 10 happy dances. The carousel is the main attraction and keeps this place from getting a lower score. He’ll love it as he gets older.

you'll always be a planet to me

Please allow me to expose my inherent geekiness by saying that I was sincerely saddened by the planet Pluto's demotion.

Pluto has always been my favorite planet. Yes, I have a favorite planet, shut up, I'm trying to wax nostalgic here.

When I was just a girl, my parents had this set of Time-Life books - you know the ones - really big, lots of pretty colors and pictures? Well, one of them was all about the Universe and the Solar System. This book fascinated me. There was one section that portrayed pictures of what the sun would look like from various planets. From Pluto, the sun was merely another star in the sky, only slightly brighter than the surrounding stars.

Half ice, tinier than many moons and with a strange, elliptical 248-year orbit, to me, Pluto is by far the strangest and most interesting planet in our system. It's the only planet that has not been visited by a space probe, so it retains an air of mystery and isolation. Very romantic, you know, for a big ball of frozen rock.

So, Pluto, even though a bunch of egghead scientists with nothing better to do than pick on the little guy have bumped your status from a planet to a dwarf planet, you'll always be the ninth, and best, planet in our solar system to me.

that's not the moon

Drew added another word to his expanding concordance.

At first, I didn't understand what he was saying - I thought it was just more nonsensical babbling from the backseat during the ride home. But I glanced back and saw him pointing out the window, up at the sky, and saying, "Mama...whee-ah moo? Whee-ah moo, mama?"

And I think it speaks volumes for my increasingly proficient ability to interpret Toddlerese that I was able to figure out he was saying, "Mama, where is the moon?"

"The moon is behind a cloud, Drew," I answered.

He pondered that for a moment, and then said, "Loud? Moo? Whee-ah moo?" which I interpret to mean, "Cloud? Moon? Shut up woman and tell me where the moon is because I don't believe your pathetic excuse for a story for a second."

We experienced a minor meltdown last night when Drew decided that all he wanted for dinner was a Snackwell Devil's Food Cake cookie. We denied his request pending his acceptance of one bite each of carrots, baked beans and hamburger. He, in turn, denied our denial and rejected our counteroffer.

A stalemate was reached, and a brief squall ensued. Fortunately, our son having the attention span of, well, a two-year-old, he was distracted by a Kellogg's strawberry cereal bar, which is not as healthful as carrots, but still better than chocolate cookies for dinner.

Tonight we're taking him to a new activity we discovered last month - it's called Musical Fun. Offered at a learning center, it basically involves lots of music and an 'instructor' who gamely attempts to induce a roomful of toddlers and babies to follow her directions and dance along with the songs. It's like watching somebody try to herd cats.

Drew loved it the first time we took him. He cavorted and squealed and clapped and basically ran himself ragged so that, by the time we got home, all we had to do was put on his PJs and plop him into bed. That's my kind of night.

loquacious

Drew's vocabulary has exploded since he got back from his week-long visit to the grandparents'. I don't know if it's something they fed him or if they just talk more than we do.

The latest additions to his lexicon include: "dog", "nake" (snake), "lide" (slide), "eat", "nana" (banana), dada (finally!), Dwew (Drew), "nose", "eye" and "knee".

Last night was the topper, though. Let me start by saying I finally figured out how to get Drew to eat some vegetables - mix them in couscous. He loves couscous. I can put broccoli in it, or chopped-up green beans, or carrots, whatever. It doesn't matter. If it's covered with couscous, he's all over it.

In fact, he loves it so much that the word couscous actually made it into his ever-growing vocabulary. Of course, he says it "Coo-coo!", but still...his first foreign word!

I put a plate of it in front of him last night, and he flashed me a huge, toothy grin and shouted "Coo-coo!" while throwing his hands up in the air.

That, folks, is probably the last time he'll ever show such enthusiasm about anything I cooked. And let's face it, "cooking" pre-packaged couscous basically involves boiling water for five minutes and stirring.  It's not gonna win me a spot on the next season of Hell's Kitchen.

But hey, it got him to eat more than two bites of something, so I'm happy.

no narcotics for you

Why is it that all of my clients have doctors who give out Lortabs and Oxycontins like one gives out M&Ms on Halloween, causing them all to become tragically addicted, at which point their doctors increase their dosage and give them unlimited refills - whereas my doctor, the one time since my C-section that I felt I could really use a little opiate relief, tells me to take two extra-strength Tylenol and two Advil at the same time every six hours.

Whoopee, said I.  It may kill the pain, but it does not provide the sweet sweet oblivion of hydrocodone.

Oh, well. He did give me this neat little Lidocaine mouthwash, which does this funky numbing bit to my whole mouth and throat, which has the added benefit of depressing my appetite, so, if nothing else, I'll at least lose some weight.

That's what I get from having a severe sore throat and swollen glands for seven days - mouth-numbing rinse and over-the-counter drugs. Somehow, I feel ripped off.

The good news is, it's not strep. The bad news is, it's some random, run-of-the-mill viral infection that pretty much has to clear up on its own.

How might I avoid infecting my loved ones, specifically my toddler, with this crud? I ask my doctor, who tells me to avoid letting people eat or drink after me (ewww...as if...), try not to cough on people (again, ewww...) and don't kiss my son.

!!!

But, he's so kissable!

I'm sure he is, says doc, rather patronizingly in my opinion.

Whatever. I'm taking Drew to the grandparents this weekend, and when I come back home on Sunday, Drew will be staying with them for a week.

This is good, and this is not so good.

Good, because maybe he won't catch my virus. Good, because husband and I can have date nights. Good, because I get to do girls-night-out with my friend Nancy, with pedicures! Good, because I'll actually get a little bit of time to myself.

Bad, because I'll miss the hell out of him. I'll call my parents every day, begging them to put him on the phone so I can hear him babble nonsensically. I'll ask them what he ate, if he misses me, how many times he's said "Mama" and how he's sleeping/napping/pooping. I'll expect them to tell me about such things in great detail.

My mom will oblige. She will tell me exactly what time he woke up that day, exactly what he had for breakfast, what he's been doing with his time, how much he misses me and how he seems to be feeling. My dad, on the other hand, will say, "He's doing fine." When pressed for details, he will say, "Good", "No problem" or some other variation thereof, prompting me to sigh in frustration and say, "Just put Mom on the phone already."

Now, it's time for me to go take my Lidocaine/Advil/Tylenol cocktail, so I'll adjourn until later...

mass media

I am actually pretty happy that Sara finally got the axe on Hell's Kitchen.

She was a favorite of mine, originally, because she was the only one who was honest enough to admit that she wasn't on the show to be all lovey-happy and make friends - she was there to kick ass and take home the big prize. 

But eventually, her constant barrage of backstabbing bitchiness got to me and, reluctantly, I had to sanction her removal from the show. (Yeah, the chef called me to get my nod of approval...) It's called subtlety, Sara. It's OK to be a bitch, but making enemies just for the sake of proving how tough you are is self-destructive.

In other media news, I recently purchased Drew a new DVD as a means of entertaining him in the mornings while Charles and I are getting ready for work. It's from The Praise Baby Collection, and let me just say, if The Baby Einstein Company hasn't gotten all litigious about this yet, it's coming. Basically, Praise Baby is Baby Einstein, but with God thrown in. Still, since I'm not a patent and trademark attorney, I don't really care, I just think it's interesting.

And, I just learned from one of the other mommies at daycare that The Doodlebops are coming to town on tour. (As an interesting point of reference, a little over two years ago, I was getting excited about such things as Fleetwood Mac concerts. ) We are so taking Drew to see the Doodlebops live. I'm not sure how I could live with myself if we didn't. 

I  wonder if they sell adult T-shirts on their tours.

I mean, come on. Don't you want to wear Moe all over your chest?

Yes, I know he's probably gay. (as Charles would say, there's no "probably" about it...)

Speaking of Charles, something tells me he will be less than enthused about accompanying me and Drew to this theatrical extravaganza. A bit of bribery may be in order...