For possibly the first time ever, I feel like Caroline ISN’T getting too old too fast. She’s been doing all the BIG milestones – walking and climbing and communicating well – since she was 10 months old (braggy mom blogger is braggy!) and the little ones don’t change much about our day to day lives. It helps that she’s still approximately the same size and weight as she was 4 months ago too, so it’s easy to pretend she’s still a baby. It also helps that we still call her “the baby” – the other day I was trying to teach Evan our full names and he keeps insisting her’s is “Baby Sister Davis”.

It’s totally cool though, because 16 months is a good age to stall out. She thinks she is a big kid but isn’t actually a big kid. She can tell me when she needs something but she can’t sass me (I don’t know how I am going to survive sass from TWO children). She sleeps through the night AND takes a nice long nap. Although there are other ages I realy like (eight months is a huge one, and honestly 3 isn’t so bad most of the time) this is our sweet spot. The perfect balance of independence and neediness that makes me feel important but not trapped in a constant cycle of baby demands.

It doesn’t hurt that she’s so adorable. At the store the other day she wandered over to a group of teenage boys with sideways baseball caps and wallet chains (basically kids that make me scowl and think “PULL UP YOUR PANTS, JERKS”) I had been trying to avoid and within seconds they were all crouched down to her level talking in baby voices. It was AMAZING. I suppose it would be possible to ignore her when she walks right up and tries to be your friend, but if you can you’re probably dead inside.

She is still wearing mostly 12 month clothes (although I am buying 18 month stuff now) but wears a size 4 shoe (which is big for someone so tiny). She loves wearing a different pair of shoes every day, which is possible thanks to a zillion hand-me-downs. She also wants to wear hats all the time, which is Very Exciting for me, since I love babies in hats but never fought a battle for them with Evan. Bring on the adorable sun bonnets!

Likes include hats (HATS!!), tickles, gymnastics, jumping, shoes, being naked, her brother, phones, yarn, hugs, talking, chocolate, cereal, juice, her baby doll, water, sand, messes, swinging, going fast, danger, sleeping, books, Daddy, being upside down and The Fresh Beat Band.

Dislikes include her seat belts, posing for photos, being hungry and being told no.

I love them together

Hold up, bro. I got this.

LOOK at those lashes!

16 Month Milestones (from BabyCenter, as usual)

Mastered Skills (most kids can do)
Turns the pages of a book – Yes, and is much gentler with books than Evan was at this age.
Has temper tantrums when frustrated – AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I mean yes.
Becomes attached to a soft toy or other object – Her baby. She LOVES that hideous thing. LOVES. IT.

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do)
Discovers the joy of climbing
Stacks three blocks – YES. I saw her do it today. BOOM.
Uses spoon or fork – “Tries” is a better word than “uses” but sometimes some of the food does end up in her mouth.
Learns the correct way to use common objects (e.g., the telephone) – Loves to “talk” on the phone, throw things away, help with the dishes and feed other people.

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do)
Takes off one piece of clothing by himself – Caroline can get herself entire naked in less than 30 seconds.
Gets finicky about food – She has preferences but still eats almost anything.
Switches from two naps to one – Wait, I was still supposed to getting 2 naps out of her? Crap! She’s been on a one nap schedule since she was about 9 months (because of our Stroller Strides schedule).

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.

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.

Brutus & Evan

Baby Evan really really really really loves our dog Brutus. Really. He likes dogs in general – “dog” was the second sign he ever learned (after “milk”) and “dohg!” is one of the only things he says clearly and consistently – but I suspect he loves HIS dog best. Actually, I don’t suspect. I know. I know he likes the dog more than he likes pretty much anything. Including me.

Does he say or sign “mama”? No. Never. But every morning when I get him out of the crib he says “dohg! dohg!” until we come downstairs and say good morning to Brutus.

Clearly the dog wins.

Loves.

Sadly, I don’t think the dog feels the same way.

I mean, obviously Brutus tolerates Baby Evan. He’s never snapped or barked or intentionally knocked him over. Letting someone use your tail as a rope so they can climb up onto YOUR chair and then jump up and down on your face is definitely a sign of like. But I’m pretty sure Brutus wishes we had never brought this creature home in the first place. I can’t bring myself to tell him about the second baby.

What did you just say about about a second baby?

I like to think if Baby Evan ever fell down a well, Brutus would come and tell us. Or that he would bravely defend us from burglars. Or come wake everyone up if there was a fire. Unfortunately, I doubt he could be bothered to get out of his chair. Because that is His Chair, just in case you were wondering.

Not that you’d want to sit in it anymore, what with the smell. And the hair. And the smell.

But Baby Evan doesn’t seem to mind.

The dog was created specially for children. He is the god of frolic. ~Henry Ward Beecher

I’m just kidding about the not-saving-us-from-disaster thing. Of course he would save the day. Otherwise there wouldn’t be anyone to feed him.

This week I took Baby Evan into the pediatrician for what should have been an easy visit that ended up being incredibly stressful and annoying and bad-mother-guilt-inducing.

Then I had a visit to the emergency room that was the most relaxing part of my weekend.

Doctors are weird.

Because of the weight-loss between his 12 and 15 month check-ups, our pediatrician scheduled a quick weigh-in on Friday for Baby Evan. I knew he’d been eating more and had definitely gained, so I expected a nice “You’re doing great and clearly not neglecting your kid” visit. That’s not quite what I got.

After the nurse weighed him – up almost a pound in 1 month –  the lady pediatrician, one I don’t think I’ve met before, came in to talk to us about what we feed our kid. Want to feel bad about your parenting skills? Try honestly answering that question. Peanut butter, bread, Goldfish, pita chips, cookies, french fries, fruit leather, cheese…yeah, I win mother of the year for sure. I didn’t even bother explaining it’s whole wheat bread! And organic fruit leather! And homemade cookies! And I offer him TONS of fruits and vegetables, I just haven’t figured out how to make him eat them!

Surprisingly, the ped didn’t seem to care much about the totally lack of color in my kid’s diet. She was more concerned that I get him to drink at least five cups of milk a day, offer him even MORE food and having us come back again EVERY MONTH for another weight check. When I went through my list of what caused the original weight loss and why it wouldn’t happen again, she made the same face my mom used to make when I came home late for curfew. The “I don’t care about your excuses” face. The “I doubt your ability to do the right thing” face. It was AWFUL. I’ve been thinking about that face constantly since Friday – every time my kid tosses his cup on the floor, every time he feeds his sandwich to the dog, every time he sleeps through a snack time. Today at the grocery store he ate a whole piece of cheese the deli lady gave him and I almost cried with joy, knowing the doctor would have approved.

You know that feeling you had when you left the hospital with your tiny newborn, the one where you couldn’t believe the staff was just letting you TAKE A BABY without any sort of instruction manual or rules or scheduled home checks to make sure you were doing it right?

This is the opposite of that. This is the feeling that just when you thought you were finally doing everything right and really getting the hang of motherhood someone comes along and tells you you suck. It sucks.

——————————————————–

On Saturday morning I noticed I had had some bleeding the night before and called my OB to see if he wanted me to come in for a rhogam shot. It was an exact repeat – almost to the same DAY of pregnancy & the same OB doc on call – of what happened when I was pregnant the first time (hint: certain grown up activities are apparently a little too much for my cervix to handle after the 22 week mark) only this time around I wasn’t a freaked out mess. I knew what it was, I knew what caused it, I knew the baby was fine. If I had an OB checkup scheduled this week I wouldn’t have even bothered to call on a weekend, but my next appointment isn’t until September and I could just imagine the doctor’s face if I brought up bleeding a MONTH after it happened, especially because he had JUST reminded me to have any bleeding checked out because of the rh-negative thing. O- might be the good blood type for donating but it SUCKS for pregnancy.

The doctor wasn’t super concerned, but said I could go into the ER for a shot “if I wanted”. I told him no, I didn’t really WANT a painful shot in the ass, so I’d just skip it. Of course, then he decided what he really meant was “You should definitely go in for a shot” although why didn’t he just say that in the first place? So I left E and Baby Evan at home and popped over to our very nice local ER for my rhogam.

It’s a funny place, the emergency room. There was an old lady with a broken hip who kept yelling “I’m peeing! I’m peeing! I have to go!” even though the nurse kept coming in to explain it was ok, she had a catheter and was supposed to pee. There was the kid laughing his head off at the doctor’s jokes even though he was still strapped into a car seat – they had been in some sort of fender bender and the paramedics brought the whole thing in on a gurney. There was the tearful family in the room next to me who cried as the doctor explained the definition of a DNR. There was the male nurse who kept saying “This is why people need a primary care physician” and “I wish more people would call their doctors before using the ER as a walk-in clinic” and “Well, the doctor doesn’t KNOW you so he might not just give you whatever medicine you want” despite the fact that I said my OB was right upstairs and said I needed a shot and he could verify my non-drug-seeking status if anyone wanted. Like rhogam is some sort of narcotic that gets you high instead of just making your thigh hurt for a couple days. DUDE, YOU’RE TOTALLY ON TO ME. I’M A JUNKIE FOR SURE.

Like I said, weird place. Happiness and sadness and noise and quiet and fast and slow at all once.

Because everyone has to check with everyone and everyone’s mother and then do a bunch of paperwork about what was said before they could treat me for my non-condition, I spent a good 2 hours just waiting around. I had my knitting with me and managed to finish a whole scarf plus catch up on everything in my Google reader on my iPhone. There were no babies climbing on me, no food being thrown, no dogs running in circles, no loud noises. The doctor was totally cooperative and happy to get out his fancy ultrasound machine to print me some pictures. The paperwork admin lady came in to chat a few times and we talked about kids and babies and pregnancy. After he realized I wasn’t a drug addict or a crazy person, my nurse was very nice and didn’t make me stay for the required 30 minutes post-injection so I could get home and enjoy the beautiful day.

I left feeling like I had taken a mini-vacation. Although next time I’d like one that didn’t involve quite so many needles. Or blood. And maybe included a massage.

But hey, I can’t really complain when I got enough quite time to finish knitting a whole project.

So to sum up: I’m much better at caring for babies that haven’t been born yet. Maybe I’ll just stay pregnant forever.