Tantrums and Transitions and Other Big Feelings

So I've been reading about tantrums, now that Little L is in the thick of being a terror-in-the-making.  She has mastered the whine, and isn't afraid to demonstrate her skills whenever she doesn't quite get what she wants.

Little kids are not good with transitions.  That is, unless they initiate it, they aren't good with changing activities abruptly.  They need time to ease out of one thing and into another.  And when grown-ups try to impose a quick change (e.g. from playing to going to bed, from reading to diaper changing), that's usually when a meltdown or tantrum occurs. At least, it is for us.

So now I've adopted some strategies, half stolen from the Internets and half from my own experience as an elementary teacher, to help my toddler switch from activity 1 to activity 2. 

The first is, I tell her a few minutes ahead of time that we will be doing something different in X minutes.  Yeah, I know she has no concept of time...yet.  But still, it's a verbal "warning" to get her primed.

Then, when it's time, I tell Little L that I'm going to count to 5 and then we are going to do ___.  I start slow counting, using my fingers so that she can see.  After I've reached 5, she usually comes into my arms without much of a struggle, and we go to our next activity.

Whenever possible, we also offer her some choice, like, "Do you want to take your stroller or the bike?" when we have to go out, or "Which outfit would you like to wear?" before bath time.  A sense of control, however small or illusory, helps Little L feel like she is calling the shots and not subject to the whims of all the grown-ups in her world.

Once she is older, we plan to use a visual "schedule," AKA "shape of the day."  Using little velcro cards with pictures and words, I will put together the day's schedule so that she knows what is happening each day, and in which order.  Hopefully, this will mitigate anxieties and manage expectations. 

In other news, Little L is still biting and pinching.  I'm told that this is normal and a way for her to express big feelings that she doesn't yet have words for.  In order to reduce the frequency of my being abused (since I am usually the lucky recipient of the bites and squeezes), I've been trying to empathetically give names to her feelings (or what I perceive are her emotions at that moment).  I am also doling out extra hugs and cuddles whenever she acts out this way.  

Some may say I'm spoiling her and harming her by not disciplining, but I say, "F*ck that noise! I'll do it my way, thankyouverymuch."  Actually, I don't say that, I just think it. What I do say is that experts agree that my baby isn't deliberately trying to hurt me because she's vindictive or manipulative or sadistic; she is just too young to have the skills to cope with "big feelings" like anxiety or jealousy or frustration or fear or disappointment.  This is her coping strategy until she can use her words and other ways to express and alleviate these emotions.  Until then, I just need to be compassionate and empathetic, and not punitive. 

What other tips and tricks and advice do you seasoned parents have for this newbie? I'm interested in hearing how you helped your kids navigate the rough waters of toddlerhood!

Scaranoid

It's the unhappy marriage between being scared and paranoid, also known as parenthood.  Hubbs and I both get scaranoid often, and in increasing measure now that Little L has decided that running is the better alternative to walking, and running with her head looking off to the side is infinitely more exciting than you know, looking at where she is going.

So now, every corner, every edge of every wall, every uneven patch in the pavement, the floor, and oh, everything is a potential hazard.  We are finding it a two-person activity just to go for a walk with her, especially on days when she wants to walk run.  It's also extra-scaranoia-worthy when she runs with stuff in her hands, or when she runs while delirious from fatigue (because at that point, she *never* looks to see where she is going). 

We are also finding, as she gets older and grows more independent, that we are scaranoid about her being injured in public places where other children are running haphazardly.  As I've come to notice, Little L is not a big fan of loud busy places with craploads of other kids, especially ones that are in her space.  She prefers a quieter environment, with fewer kids at a time (so her gymnastics class, at 8-10 kids, is okay), as long as these kids respect her space and stay at arms' length away.  This preference works to our advantage, at least right now, since she's not all about getting into the fray with the other crazed children.  However, in situations where she's at a public indoor playground, for example, it's inevitable that some other child will either get too close or somehow manage to injure her (there's a story to go with that one, stay tuned).  Enter scaranoid parents, who want to keep her from every possible bump and bruise and scrape and fall.

This crippling condition is also not limited to when Little L is on her own.  Oh no, we get all weird and worked up even when she is out for a walk with the nanny (hereby given the moniker Miss Bee).  Miss Bee is the awesomest, most loving nanny ever, and Little L adores her.  We trust her enough to let her go for 1.5 hour walks with our baby, so that should speak to her character, right? And yet, we worry.  We hear an ambulance siren blaring as it whizzes by our home and we get concerned that Little L has been in a freak accident.  We try to call Miss Bee and if she doesn't happen to answer or get our text/call right away, we think that they've been abducted or something Law & Order: SVU-esque has happened.

Yeah, I know.  We really have considered buying Little L her own bubble, or at the very least a crash helmet for her everyday shenanigans.

But we know we can't.  And we are also keenly aware that to make our daughter an idol in our life is sinful and wrong, so we take many deep breaths, utter many prayers, and try to get some perspective.

It's hard, though, y'know?  It is hard to let our little girl go, grow up, and take risks.  It's hard to sit back and watch as she learns some things on her own, particularly when some lessons come with pain.

I think being a mommy is going to give me a heart condition.  Or it already has.

Celebrating Being a Mommy - by Avoiding Being a Mommy

Ironic, isn't it?

But that is sort of what happened.  I got half a day "off" from being a Mommy as a gift for being "on" 364.5 other days a year.  So here's what went down:

Hubbs showered quickly so that I could take a nice, long, hot shower while he watched Little L.  I seriously milked that up and took nearly an hour, including putting on all of my make-up.  It was bliss.

Then, we went to the swanky brunch at the Pan Pacific Hotel.  It's sort of a new "tradition" that started last Mother's Day, and which we now honour every Mother & Father's Day.  The brunch was delicious and of course, decadent and opulent; a jazz duo crooned out tunes while I dined and attentive servers cleared off my plates of wasted  discarded food; I was able to enjoy sushi, seared ahi, steaming hot dim sum, perfectly-roasted prime rib, a huge selection of desserts and a chocolate fountain, lamb and duck and halibut and fresh croissants (and that's not even including half the stuff I didn't have room for).  Bliss again. 

Although Hubbs and I took turns watching Little L (who was being uncharacteristically well-behaved throughout the brunch), he did the lion's share when it came time for her to wander around and explore the turf so that I could enjoy my meal.

Then, after we got home and enjoyed an afternoon nap (well, Little L napped and I surfed online), I was able to go grocery shopping on my own.  I know this doesn't sound like much of a treat, but hear me out: usually Hubbs gets to go, and I get to stay home with the clingy one who refuses to leave my side.  When we go as a family, the trip is heinous for all involved because she fusses about being out so long, I never get to explore all the aisles I want to shop in, and Hubbs is annoyed that it's taking twice as long.  So for me to go on my own? So awesome.  I browsed my aisles, I looked for groceries uninterrupted, and I enjoyed a drive without having to sing at the top of my lungs to entertain a toddler.

After my little shopping sojourn, I did up a quickie dinner and was able to go for a long hot bath while Hubbs watched Little L.  And by the time I returned, she was already getting groggy so putting her to bed (via nursing) was a cinch.

What a great Mother's Day I had - a day where I got to spend a good amount of time not doing the mommying thing.  ;)

My Hubbs is the best, and so is Little L, who I suspect was on her best behaviour yesterday.

And now...back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Repeat Performance

Little L is just like her dad in many good ways, but also in a few annoying ways as well.  One of these less-than-awesome similarities is her penchant for wanting to hear the same thing over and over again.

She is an audiophile-in-diapers, and there are certain sounds or words or songs that really strike her fancy, and she would seriously love nothing more than to hear that repeated all day long.  For those of you who knew Hubbs back in the day, it's like his love for Crystal Waters (la da dee, la da daah...)

Little L likes to shove books in our faces now, with a commanding imperative, "Read!"  Then she will sit herself on our lap, turn to the page she likes (it's usually one page in a book), point, and wait for us to deliver a radio-play-worthy performance.  After we finish and attempt to turn the page, she will flip it right back to hter fave page and point again.  Repeat repeat repeat.

When she is playing her little musical toys on her own, she will now keep pressing through the rotations of songs until she finds the *one* song on the toy that she loves most.  For her Meowsic keyboard, it's "If You're Happy (And You Know It)" and for her other keyboard, it's "This Old Man."  

Although the repetition is endearing the first couple of times, it loses its charm after the tenth read of page 6.  Also, to refuse to continue reading invites Little L's wrath (loud whining and following you around while shoving the book into your leg), which isn't great either.  

Here's hoping this is just a phase.  It's annoying and unpleasant for all of us :(

Foul Play

Have you seen this man? 

He is missing from our household, and we suspect foul play.  Not to point fingers or anything, but Little L isn't a fan of moustaches or dark, tanned skin. It's entirely possible that she has gotten rid of him.

He has been missing for at least 24 hours, quite possibly much longer (eg. a few days).  I hadn't noticed until now because I never pay attention to him ... I guess I'm not a fan of moustaches and dark, tanned skin either! Good thing I'm married to Hubbs (who can't grow the former or get the latter despite 3 weeks in Honolulu) ;)

Wackne

Pronounced as /wak'nee/, and defined as the grossness happening on my forehead right now. Wacky acne indeed.

I didn't ever have bad skin, save for an occasional angry red volcano on my teenage nose once upon a time, long ago, in a far away place. But as a grown-up? No, I've always had great skin.

Note the past tense. Apparently my body still wants to punish me for having an easy pregnancy, this time by messing around with my hormones again and creating an awful red bumpy pattern on my hairline . Thanks hormones. What next, a period? (Probably, and sorry for the TMI).

They're hideous. And red. And hurt. And keep getting worse! I've gotten so desperate that I've actually turned to the oh-so-reputable online forums for advice.

The best treatment advice so far? Tea-tree oil. Yep, I'm putting oil on my face to combat the oil on and under my face. Seems legit, right? Surprisingly , it has been working quite well (knock on tea-tree wood). I smell kinda funny for a few minutes twice a day, but the bumps seem to be subsiding, or at the very least they've ceased replicating.

I've also felt like sh!t for the past few days, so I feel like maybe the return of the crimson tide is imminent. I've been free for a glorious 24 months, but all good things must eventually end. Little L is still nursing at night and in the mornings and at nap time, so if I get IT soon, I'll be surprised (even with these woeful symptoms).

The up side, however, is that if Aunt Flo does come a-callin,' then we can make some progress trying for #2. Not that we are decided on that yet. Not that I'm getting any younger either. But that's the silver lining I'm trying to suss out of an otherwise-unpleasant bloody situation.

Anyhow, now that I've covered this in sufficient detail to make you either woozy or nauseous, I'd just like to add that we know a lot of people who are having (or recently had) a third kidlet. Y'all are crazy!! It's tough enough with one. And despite what peeps may say about how if the first is hard the second will be easy, I just know that won't happen with us. It'll just be doubly-hard.

All these thoughts, just cuz my forehead decided to stage an uprising. Wackne indeed!

Taming my Tongue?

When I first learned to cuss, I didn't quite master the art of profanity. Limited to my fourth-grade diary entries guarded under lock-and-key, my practice of using swear words was limited to my writing, which at the time was still abysmal. I essentially strung together series of swear words with random suffixes thrown in, but try as I might, these strings never made any sense, like, "Oh I hate her! She's such a sh*tting b*tch a$$hole bastard f*cky!" Yeah, I know. Needless to say I didn't make a very good sailor ;)

However, over the years I've gained impeccable finesse in using profanity. There have been times when Hubbs has been shocked (appalled?) at my potty mouth, and times when my letting loose a litany of swear words has resulted in much catharsis and positive results (like getting what I wanted as compensation for piss-poor service).

Now that Little L is increasingly aware of language and learning to talk, however, I have to censor my potty mouth.  Inspired by April's hilarious post at First Time Mom & Dad, I am also compiling a couple of phrases that I should probably stop using, aside from f*ck, which I am getting really good at uttering silently while driving (I hope she doesn't lip-read)!

I swear...  Actually, I don't usually swear by anything, but I do say those words.  Misleading and will probably make Little L think I'm swearing since I'm saying that I'm swearing...so I should just avoid this phrase altogether to keep life uncomplicated.

Shut up! Usually uttered with an air-head-esque affect, this is one of those things that I proclaim when I can't believe what someone is saying.  Sort of like, "No way! Really? Are you serious?" but for whatever reason, I like this version best.  Or liked.

Loser! Little L might start thinking that this is her dad's real name, but I usually say it in fun and with a snicker, after Hubbs does something totally lame and I'm trying to tell him that it has reached the bottom of the lame barrel.  Not nice, I know, which is why I'm quitting it.

"...retarded... This one is so offensive to me that I hate when I use the word. It's not PC either, but Hubbs uses the word a lot, and for worse it has rubbed off on me. Sometimes it comes out before I can even self-censor. But, given how horrible a word it is (and we use it referring to situations or behaviour or attitudes, not people), we should just stop.

crappy, piss, dumb, stupid, freakin'/friggin'... These are not swears per se, but the intent is still to cuss so it's still not okay. I never used these words at my school because they were considered inappropriate, so why use them at home?

Come to think of it, there are tons of words I probably should avoid, words that, although true, are mean or insulting or disparaging. Like ignorant degenerate, idiot, mouth-breather, etc. etc. I'm nearly gifted in the art of mean; why can't I be gifted with patience and kindness instead? *Sigh.* But I digress.

So yeah, watch for the G-rated Mrs L, coming to a blog near you!

Actually, f*ck that noise! I might not be able to swear in real life in my home or around my kid anymore, but my blog, in writing, and on the Internet is fair game... Sh*tting bitch a$$hole bastard f*cky!!