I have been feeling like a competent mom for a while, so I should have known something would come up which would give those feelings a good kick to the curb. Enter potty training. I just feel like I am doing everything wrong with this one. Did I start too early? Too late? Am I being too easy going in my approach or too forceful? Reading for tips on the Internet only results in more questions, confusion and feelings of inadequacy. Thankfully, even in the midst of all this angst, there have been things to laugh about.
I am happy to report that Alice has kept her panties clean more often than not; unfortunately, she is easily distracted. If something fun is happening she ignores her body signals until it is too late. Because of this, whenever she has an accident, she has to help me clean it up. I don't do it as a punishment but as a lesson that the things we do have consequences. As her clean up responsibility, she has to rinse her panties out in the sink and wring them out. Apparently, Alice has really internalized this lesson. Last night as I was cleaning up from dinner Alice walked into the kitchen and took a dishcloth. This is nothing new. She uses them as blankets for her stuffed animals or as towels for when they go to the "beach". A little while later she came into the kitchen with her legs stretched to avoid touching her wet panties and asked me to help her get clean. After finishing that task, I asked Alice to show me where she made pee so I could clean it up. She took me to the spot and there it was- the kitchen towel was drenched from its absorption of her puddle. It is amazing how quickly disappointment can turn to pride.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Uh Oh, I Ran Out of Curry Powder...
I love how Alice is such an adventurous eater. Whereas many of my friends bemoan their children's steady diet of chicken fingers, hot dogs, and buttered noodles, I don't have that issue. Alice eats according to the mantra "the spicier, the better". When we order Chinese, Alice winds up eating more spicy pork than John. She enjoys her fajitas with habereno sauce. She devours her daddy's steak pizzaole. However, if I had to pick her favorite cuisine, I would have to say it is Indian food. This love actually began in utero.
Most people laugh and look at me with expressions of disbelief when I say that, but it is true. Chicken curry was my primary food craving when I was pregnant with Alice. Yes, like most pregnant women, I loved ice cream, but for some inexplicable reason chicken curry was like a drug for me. The sauce and spices caressed my taste buds and created feelings of euphoria within my swollen body. When you feel as big as an overheated, beached whale (the joys of being pregnant in August) any feeling of euphoria is pretty scarce. Needless to say, because everything felt better after a serving of curry, the waiters at our favorite local place became like family and tracked my pregnancy with the same interest as my real family.
Not long after Alice was born, we went back for some curry, and despite being postpartum, it still tasted wonderful. It was after digestion that things got a little weird. When I went to nurse Alice after dinner, she attacked me. I was used to enthusiastic nursing but what ensued was particularly intense. I still don't think that my nipples have forgiven me. I remembered thinking, "Wow...did I not feed her enough today?" I chalked it up to a fluke but when it kept happening whenever I ate Indian food I realized how my pregnancy craving manifested itself.
As Alice aged, her love of Indian food evolved. Not long after the typical foray into solid foods (rice cereal, strained fruits and veggies and the ubiquitous Cheerios), I decided I would never deny Alice a food that she expressed interest in. If I felt it could be easily chewed or gummed, I gave her a sample. This horrified my mother to no end. She was convinced I would give the child a stomach ulcer or something to that effect. My argument that children who live in (fill in the blank) country most likely eat this among their first foods and live to tell the tale did not sit well with her.
Which leads me to one of my favorite Alice memories of her sitting in her booster seat at our Indian place. I remember her looking at our meal from her vantage point and smacking her lips, so I decided to give her a sample. I placed some basmati rice and cut up chicken curry on her tray. Her eyes lit up when she tried it. Whenever her tray became empty, she would make little noises to get my attention. She even added kicking legs to make sure I noticed her empty tray predicament. The wait staff watched in awe as little Alice devoured the rice and little pieces of chicken drenched in curry sauce. When they brought us our check, they presented Alice with a shot glass of mango lassi. They were curious to see what would happen. The consistency was a little thick so I fed it to her with a spoon. Alice took a bite, smiled, and then proceeded to down the whole glass. The waiters gathered around our table, picked her up, and hugged her. Actually, they still hug her every time we go out to dinner there. The only difference now is we order Alice her own plate of food. Someone does not share nicely.
Most people laugh and look at me with expressions of disbelief when I say that, but it is true. Chicken curry was my primary food craving when I was pregnant with Alice. Yes, like most pregnant women, I loved ice cream, but for some inexplicable reason chicken curry was like a drug for me. The sauce and spices caressed my taste buds and created feelings of euphoria within my swollen body. When you feel as big as an overheated, beached whale (the joys of being pregnant in August) any feeling of euphoria is pretty scarce. Needless to say, because everything felt better after a serving of curry, the waiters at our favorite local place became like family and tracked my pregnancy with the same interest as my real family.
Not long after Alice was born, we went back for some curry, and despite being postpartum, it still tasted wonderful. It was after digestion that things got a little weird. When I went to nurse Alice after dinner, she attacked me. I was used to enthusiastic nursing but what ensued was particularly intense. I still don't think that my nipples have forgiven me. I remembered thinking, "Wow...did I not feed her enough today?" I chalked it up to a fluke but when it kept happening whenever I ate Indian food I realized how my pregnancy craving manifested itself.
As Alice aged, her love of Indian food evolved. Not long after the typical foray into solid foods (rice cereal, strained fruits and veggies and the ubiquitous Cheerios), I decided I would never deny Alice a food that she expressed interest in. If I felt it could be easily chewed or gummed, I gave her a sample. This horrified my mother to no end. She was convinced I would give the child a stomach ulcer or something to that effect. My argument that children who live in (fill in the blank) country most likely eat this among their first foods and live to tell the tale did not sit well with her.
Which leads me to one of my favorite Alice memories of her sitting in her booster seat at our Indian place. I remember her looking at our meal from her vantage point and smacking her lips, so I decided to give her a sample. I placed some basmati rice and cut up chicken curry on her tray. Her eyes lit up when she tried it. Whenever her tray became empty, she would make little noises to get my attention. She even added kicking legs to make sure I noticed her empty tray predicament. The wait staff watched in awe as little Alice devoured the rice and little pieces of chicken drenched in curry sauce. When they brought us our check, they presented Alice with a shot glass of mango lassi. They were curious to see what would happen. The consistency was a little thick so I fed it to her with a spoon. Alice took a bite, smiled, and then proceeded to down the whole glass. The waiters gathered around our table, picked her up, and hugged her. Actually, they still hug her every time we go out to dinner there. The only difference now is we order Alice her own plate of food. Someone does not share nicely.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
So That's Why He Married Me....
Alice has been a bit befuddled by the emergence of her first freckle. She keeps pointing it out to me. She is convinced it is a "boo boo" and I should kiss it and make it better. I tried explaining to her that she now has a freckle. I even showed her my freckle covered arms to make her feel better. The lesson did not completely sink in. Alice is now convinced she has a "sprinkle". By default I guess that means I am covered in sprinkles. Now I know why my ice cream loving husband married me. Who can resist a woman covered with "sprinkles"?
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