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Bonjour! No I'm not French, it just sounded fancy. Sorry for the confusion. I'm Suzanne, the star of the show is Baby Evan and #2 - Sandy for now - is on the way in December '10. I love hearing from you so if you have questions, stories or ideas to share, email me at bebehblog at gmail dot com. Hate mail will be fed to the dog. He says it tastes like beef jerky.
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September 2010
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Wordless Wednesday: Belly Love Edition


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Once Upon A Potty

A lot of my friends with kids around the same age as Evan have started potty training. Not full-on throw-out-the-diapers potty training, but buy-a-seat-and-start-watching-for-signs-of-readiness potty training. The lazy man’s approach, if you will. Hey, in my book every diaper you DON’T have to change is a good diaper, so I figured I’d get a seat and give it a try too.

Sitting! On the potty seat!

I think my first mistake was buying a seat/step stool rather than just a potty, since being just a liiiiiittle bit taller is every toddler’s dream (and brings us to a whole new level of childproofing). The lid is also sort of hard to get open so I have some trouble yanking off pants, a diaper and flipping it to the potty part fast enough to accomplish anything.

Even when it is open, I don’t think Evan’s legs are long enough to get his tush centered appropriately. Which means I would still have to be actively involved in all potty time for quite some time.

Eating on the potty: WE'RE JUST THAT CLASSY.

So far, there has been exactly zero potty action on the potty. Just sitting. Mostly fully clothed.

Hey! Squatting! Can we call that progress?

In case you think I’m a crazy person for even thinking about potty training this early, let me tell you that Baby Evan already learned the sign for “toilet” and associates it with pooping. He’s a very conspicuous pooper, so it wasn’t hard for him to get the connection when I signed it every time he’d start grunting and frowning. I also sign it when he’s in the bathroom with me, hoping he’ll understand that’s the place where the pooping is supposed to happen. I think peeing will be our bigger struggle, since he barely seems to care about wet diapers and often doesn’t even stop running around naked long enough to finish a whiz.

Again, I would like to remind you that NO POTTYING has been done in that bowl.

A lesser person would caption this with a comment including the terms "poop" and "head".

Yes, that is a sippy cup in the potty. Maybe he's just trying to cut out the middleman?

Evan’s other sign of readiness is that dirty diapers now seem to bother him. He will sign “yucky” and “diaper” if I ask him about “the stinky” and grab his crotch Michael Jackson-style if I haven’t yet noticed. I’ve heard this is a major step in potty training success so maybe I’ll keep trying, despite my failure with the seat so far.

Now he's just mocking me.

I suppose having the seat doesn’t hurt – we’ll need it EVENTUALLY – but when I get serious about the potty training we’ll need at least two more: one for the upstairs bathroom and one for the car. Anyone have any seat recommendations that aren’t quite so easy to use as hats?

Because this? Will NOT be OK when the seats are in use. No matter what the toddler says.

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Needing a break does not make you bad mom

A hundred years ago, I knew how to relax (Charleston SC August 2006)

Can I say that ANY MORE CLEARLY??

All over the internet (and in real life) I hear moms say “I wish I got a day off” or “I could use a break” or “When do I get a sick day?” or “I can’t wait to go on that vacation”. But those statements are ALWAYS prefaced by this:

“I love my kid, but…”

Without fail.

Usually it’s a lot more than just “I love my kid” too. Sometimes it’s whole paragraphs and posts and speeches about how they are the luckiest women on the planet, with darling, adorable, well-behaved children, super awesome supportive husbands, perfect magazine-cover lives and great hair. They just…need a minute. Maybe two. And a cocktail.

I’m not saying I DON’T love my kid. I am just as guilty as everyone else of worrying people will think I’m a terrible mother if I want him to go away sometimes. He’s exhausting. It’s not so much that feeding and caring for one small child is incredibly strenuous – heck, you can pay a teenager to keep your kid alive for a few hours for less than minimum wage and most of them are happy to do it – but EVERY DAY ALL THE TIME NO STOPPING NO BREAKS will make you crazy.

For the record, here’s what happened when I got my break: There was absolutely no whining. I stayed out late. I called to check in and was happy to hear everything was fine. I was not a sobbing, teary mess at being separated from my kid for a couple days, although when I got back I was actually HAPPY to let him climb all over me instead of wanting to claw my skin off and hide under the covers. It was glorious.

And I’m going to do it again.

I’m not saying if you DO cry when you’re away from your baby there’s something wrong with you – it took me more that a year of NEVER being away from Baby Evan to get to the point where I could even consider leaving for a weekend. But there’s no “Saddest Mommy” medal being handed out to the person with the most tears and guilt. Let it go. Recharge. Have a cocktail. Get away.

TAKE A BREAK.

It might just make you a better mom.

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A Fixer Upper

One of my very earliest memories is of our house in New Jersey, the one we lived in when my little sister was born. It was the first house my parents ever bought and I can only imagine how exciting it was for them to buy the BRAND NEW 4 bedroom, 2 bath colonial with a big yard on a cul-de-sac. Something about being a homeowner just feels so grown up, even more than kids or a minivan or health insurance. I spent oh so many hours running around that neighborhood or playing on the swing set or cutting my own hair and then hiding under a chair so Mom wouldn’t yell at me reading quietly in the family room.

It was a good house.

One of my OTHER earliest memories is sneaking downstairs right around Christmas to find my parents and an aunt and uncle or two huddled around this:

Charming starter home on spacious lot, great location & schools

They were putting the finishing touches on the doll house as a Christmas present. My dad was SO DISAPPOINTED I saw it before Christmas morning. I still remember him rushing me back upstairs and telling me I was absolutely NOT allowed out of bed again no matter what. I tried super hard not to even think about the house – and I know I didn’t talk about it – until it was officially mine, although I don’t think anyone tried to tell me my presents were “from Santa” after that.

Center entry, formal living and dining rooms

The doll house is an exact replica of the actual house we living in in New Jersey, from the floor plan and carpet color right down to the wallpaper. There was no kit or plans, just my dad and a tape measure and his amazing attention to detail.

Even though we moved to Long Island after a couple of years…and California a few years after that…and then Massachusetts…and finally to Virgina, my parents had this GIANT doll house shipped with our stuff EVERY TIME. Dad built a special crate and wrapped it in packing paper and Styrofoam so not a single wall is cracked or damaged even though it’s been almost two decades since it was uncrated.

And ever since I announced I was pregnant the first time my parents been dreaming of the day the dollhouse is no longer their problem. Baby #2′s girl parts sealed the doll house’s fate (although Baby Evan has already greatly enjoyed putting various items in the windows – Attack of the giant corn! Watch out for the tiny killer dump truck! On noes we’re all going to be eaten by the singing frog!) so now it lives in my dining room.

House has great bones, but some cosmetic repairs needed

As well as it was taken care of, NO house can hold up to 20 years of abandonment. Peeling paper, moldy carpets, and water damage all abound.

I’m sort of conflicted about fixing up the doll house – I want it exactly as I remember it (even though it’s already not) and it feels disloyal to my parents to tear apart even a minute of their hard work. But some of that decor is in really bad shape.

Orginal 1980's kitchen and baths. In case you're into "vintage".

Like that middle upstairs bathroom. Yikes.

And I don’t think anyone ANYWHERE still sells that wallpaper, so matching it is out of the question.

I guess I’m going to be redecorating.

FIREPLACE! The highlight of every realtor's tour!

And hey, since I don’t have the time and/or money to redecorate my entire REAL house (again) right now, this is a great place to channel my creative energy. Tiny rooms to paint! Tiny rugs! Tiny appliances! All new tiny furniture! And the best part, there’s only a tiny bit of wallpaper to peel off and carpet to tear up.

Stay tuned for the very exciting renovation coming soon.

Damn, I was hoping for hardwood.

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A Man of Few Words

There’s nothing like the internet to make you feel bad about your kid’s milestones, amiright?

At least I totally won in mobility milestones with the “My kid’s walking already!” I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I looooved the looks on other mom’s faces at the mall when my answer to “Wow, he’s walking so well! How old is he?” was “Just turned 10 months. He’s very active!”

Oh parenting karma, thou art a total bitch.

At almost 16 months, Baby Evan is definitely communicative but not exactly verbose. He doesn’t pick up new words very quickly or repeat things we say immediately, although every once in a while shocks me by correctly using a word or sign I had no idea he knew (like “more”, which I swear to God I signed four hundred times a day for three months until I gave up – and then a couple weeks ago he was all “yeah, I want more, give me more, WHY DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M SAYING WOMAN??? MOOOOOOORE.”)

Words He Says Consistently (and mostly understandably)
Ball
Dog
Cat
Balloon
Book
Daddy
Kiss
Uh Oh
No
Bye

Words He Signs
More
Dog
Eat
In
Milk
Bird
Fish
Hot
Yucky
Bye bye
Baby (I LOVE this one, he knows the baby is in my belly too)

Words He Might Be Saying But I Have *COUGH* NO IDEA Where He Would Have Learned
Shit

Words He Understands
Hey kid, stop running away from me and come over here!
Uh oh, you made a mess! Can you use this paper towel to clean it up?
Would you like to go play on the playground?
Where did you put that pink plastic cover thing that goes on Mommy’s phone?
That’s dirty, can you throw it in the trash?
Where’s your nose?
Where are your feet?
Don’t touch Daddy’s computer.
You may touch the yarn but please don’t grab it.
Stop hitting the dog.
Stop jumping on your baby sister.
Stop trying to climb the stairs.
Danger!

And pretty much EVERYTHING ELSE we say to him. He has no shortage of comprehension skills – it’s just a matter of whether or not he feels like listening. Because he’s a toddler and toddlers are JERKS.

So I guess he’s not exactly STUNTED in the vocabulary department. It just feels like it because of the internet. Maybe the INTERNET is the jerk.

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