60 posts tagged “baby stories”

The Boy is officially in the 2-year-old classroom now. Dropping him off was absolutely awful this morning.

A big part of the problem is that I still haven't met the teachers, and it doesn't help that the classroom where I drop him off in the mornings isn't the one where he will spend most of his time. So, his cubby isn't in that room, his artwork (once he makes some) isn't in that room, and his teachers aren't in that room. And it didn't help this morning that he doesn't know any of the kids, either.

After I signed him in, I briefly looked around the room and pointed out all the cool things in the classroom that aren't in the Toddler room. They have bathroom stalls - short enough for me to peer into, but tall enough to give kids privacy when they use the facilities. There's a little sink where he can wash his hands without needing to use a step stool. The tables and chairs are a little taller than the ones in the Toddler room (though still shorter than the set at home), and there are Legos and art supplies and all kinds of fun toys that we have at home but weren't in the Toddler room. After all, he's a big(ger) kid now!

I did my best to talk about everything excitedly, to get him to take me on a tour of the classroom, but he would have none of it. He begged in earnest between sobs for me to take him outside ("Out! Mama! Peas! Mama! Out! Peas! Peas!"), and he clung to my leg for dear life as I wrote on the sign-in sheet. Finally, the teacher there (still don't know her name) took him from me so that I could escape. As soon as the door shut behind me, I ran to his old Toddler classroom and sobbed.

As if that weren't enough, I still needed to run diapers to his new classroom (not the temporary one). I wrote his name on the package in the Toddler room, steeled my nerves, then ran (literally) past the room where I left him and down the hall to his classroom. Once I was there, I looked around a bit, just to see where my little boy would be spending most of his days for the next year. It's an adorable facility, really - perfectly sized for him, and I can totally see him fostering more independence in the coming year. I carefully made my way back once I heard one of the Directors being paged to the classroom where I left him and saw him standing by the door, tears streaming down his little cheeks, wringing his hands and stomping his feet as he cried, "Mamaaa! Mamaaaaaa! Mamaaaaaaaaaa!"

It absolutely broke my heart. Thankfully, he was looking the other way and didn't see me through the window (I would have died if he did), but it was horrible. I felt terrible!

I'm sure he will give Chris a full report this afternoon when Chris picks him up. And I know he's fine and is probably enjoying himself as I write.

It doesn't ease the Mommy Guilt, though.

The Boy is starting to transition to the 2-year-old classroom today. Each day, he'll spend a little more time with the bigger kids so that, come Monday, he'll be comfortable going to the 2-year-old wing.

I need to prepare myself for meltdowns next week.

He's teething like crazy. Even after a half dose of Tylenol this morning, he was still holding his mouth when I left him at school. I don't think I need to express how relieved I will be when these molars come in. At least I know I'll have a slight reprieve before the next molars come in - and by then, he'll be able to better express himself verbally to let me know what he needs.

I bought him some Big Boy Underpants this weekend. He hasn't been asking for them or anything, but I know he'll see some kids in his new class wearing Big Kid underpants and want to have those handy as a potty training incentive. He's not showing a lot of interest in the potty. He knows what it is and that you sit on it; beyond that, he hasn't quite grasped the concept. Tommy Bear sits on the potty more than The Boy does. Meanwhile, Chris and I ask him every day if he wants to sit on it, and we're careful not to push it on him. After all, he'll get there one of these days. And if he's the only kid in his class still wearing diapers, so be it.

He'll pick up on that really quickly.

This was probably the most difficult morning I've had with The Boy in recent history.

There were some cute moments, to be sure, but it was trying, nonetheless. So, let's get the yucky stuff out of the way, first.

I know it didn't help that I was sick all weekend and would have called out today except that it's Month End at work. My head's in a fog, my ears are clogged, and my nose alternates between stuffy and dripping. Overall, it's not fun.

This morning, he was in fairly good spirits when I got him out of bed. But as soon as my husband left for work, it was a battle. He didn't want to eat. He wanted to play. He wanted to eat, but only if Tommy Bear and Ow (a Dalmation puppy stuffed animal I bought for my husband ages ago) were sitting at the table with him. Then he wanted nothing to do with his food and wanted to play with his puzzle. Then he wanted to eat but first had to switch seats with Tommy Bear and Ow. Then he wanted each of them to have a chair, which meant that he would stand. Then he wanted to eat while sitting on the floor. Then he didn't want to eat and wanted to play with his Yo Gabba Gabba! toys. Then he wanted his puzzle again. I finally got him to eat until I was satisfied his belly was full (he wouldn't eat again until 11, after all) by reading a book to him three times while he begrudgingly shoved pieces of banana and toast into his mouth.

When I changed his diaper and clothes, he was fine. He had his Thomas and Friends "catalog", a big piece of paper that came with one of his trains that shows the different trains and sets available. He loves looking at that. But, of course, as it's a single piece of paper, it tears. Easily. And a certain little boy in my house could not fathom why Mommy was so nonchalant about his paper tearing, so he launched into a full tantrum that subsisted until I taped the pieces back together.

Not everything was horrible or tragic, and I'll cover those later. But even the trip to school was terrible!

Once we get into the car, it's usually a smooth morning. I give him a book to read in the car, he "reads" aloud happily, adding inflections ("Uh-oh!", "Oh!" and "Ay!") when appropriate. If the sun is in his eyes, he'll either wear his sunglasses or hold up the book to block the rays. This is what usually happens.

But not today.

No, no.

He wouldn't leave the house without his pacifier, which he knows is only for sleeping. "Will you sleep in the car?" I asked. He nodded. Even though I was suspicious, I let him have the pacifier (for which he said both "Please" and "Thank you") in lieu of the growing menagerie we're collecting in his crib. (We added a cow this morning.) He trotted happily to the dining room, where I had piled the things we needed to bring today. I picked up my bags, grabbed a coat, put my phone in my pocket, then followed him to the garage. Once outside, he alerted me of the temperature ("Is cole!"), and we piled into the car. He argued with me a bit while I put him in his car seat because he didn't have sunglasses on his head. Once I buckled him in, I handed him a book, got into my seat, turned on the Mighty Weaklings, and we were off.

I should have known as soon as we turned out of the gates of our community that those sunglasses were going to be an issue.

"Off!" he screamed, pulling his sunglasses off his head and tossing them to the side. I handed him my spare pair in hopes it would placate him. It did, for a while. While we were at a stop light (facing the sun, I might add), I reached in the back and plucked out his glasses. I offered them, he screamed, I took them back.

My spare sunglasses, far too big for his head, were now sliding down his face and annoying him. He screamed and took them off. Then he screamed because it was too bright and put them back on. He did this for a few miles. Finally, I asked him if he was going to sleep since he had the pacifier. He closed his eyes and turned his head, then put on my sunglasses and turned his head again, then ripped them off, tossed them to the side, and screamed.

By now, we were (thankfully) near school, and he was happy to be there.

Until we got to the classroom door.

Sometimes, there's a bit of drama at the door. He'll refuse to walk in on his own, then realize all his friends are there and Mommy isn't leaving right away, so he'll saunter in at his own pace on his terms. I'm okay with this. Moreover, I'm convinced that the more I force him to do something, the more he'll resent whatever it is I want him to do. So, if he wants to take his time coming into the classroom, I just need to make sure I allow myself ample time for this so that I'm not late getting to work.

This morning was particularly heinous, though. And it wasn't made any better by a mom who was obviously very nervous about dropping off her son for the first time. (Been there, so I can relate. You don't know these people from Adam and you're leaving in their possession your offspring, your pride and joy, the absolute light of your life. There's no way these people will give your son the attention he needs! And there's screaming children, too! Look, I get it. All the same, can you try to be a little helpful and either walk in before my son does or wait a little bit after I close the door? Opening it right after I get him inside, holding it open and giving him a chance to escape really doesn't work so well.) Nor was it made any better by the fact that her offspring burst into tears immediately upon realizing she was gone. Let's just say I was able to take some small comfort in knowing that mine wasn't the only child in hysterics this morning. In fact, most of the kids were crying when I escaped left.

Once in my car, I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the rest of the day. Which, given the fact that we both survived the morning and I didn't tear out my hair, really hasn't been so bad, by comparison.

Okay, so that's the bad stuff. I promise, lots of cute things happened this morning, too:

• He brought me a book after I crawled back into bed this morning: Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. Very proudly, he turned the pages, and every time he saw Owl, he let me know. "Ow!" he said, proudly, pointing to Owl. "Ow! Ow!" ("Ow" means "owl", by the way, and is not to be confused for Ow the Dog. Much frustration and a tantrum will occur should one fail to make that distinction.) "Where's Pooh Bear?" I gently inquired. "Dis!" he said, briefly pointing to Winnie the Pooh before continuing to seek out Owl.
• I had him try two shirts this morning. The second made it over his head, but not without a little struggle because he had part of the neck in his mouth. Once I put it on him, he pointed to his shirt, then to mine, then to his again. It turned out I had inadvertently dressed us both in red shirts! After I praised him for his observation - especially noting that both of our shirts were the same color - he promptly began tugging at his shirt to get it untucked so that he could see his belly button.
• He took out his blocks, found the letter "H", and brought it to me. "Ar!" he said, pointing to a picture of a heart. "Yes, that's very good! That's a heart!" Very pleased, he pointed again. "An!" he said, pointing to the block and holding up his hand. Sure enough, it was a handprint. I praised him again. "Ows!" he said, pointing to a picture of a house. "Yes, Baby, that's very good! That's a picture of a house!" Again, he showed me handprints, I praised him, and, satisfied with himself, he went back to the family room and put the block on the coffee table. Gently.
• While I was washing dishes, he brought me a puzzle piece, this one a picture (and shape) of a bus. "Mama!" he said, tugging on my jeans. "Mama!" "Yes, Baby?" "Mama!" he repeated, pointing to a person on the bus wearing glasses. I had to smile. He's done this before, but it's actually quite clever of him. "Yes, Baby, that person is wearing glasses, just like Mama!" He beamed and pointed again. "Mama!" he said one last time before returning to his puzzle.
• He picked up Tommy Bear and Ow, placed them on their backs on the kitchen floor, then ran to his room. He came back with a (clean, folded) blanket, which he unfolded (with my help) and gently placed over his toys. Then he took his Plex car and drove over their sleeping bodies.

There are a number of other cute things he did that I can't simply explain in words, but suffice it to say that after venting about my morning as I did at the start of this post, I'm very happy I ended on a high note. We're entering those dangerous waters known as the Terrible Twos. I think they're kind of like the Pacific Ocean: it looks calm and placid until you actually get on it, but all those storms and tempests mean you'll never find a better ocean to surf.

Yeah. I think Toddlerhood is going to be a lot like that.

We spent Saturday at home indoors. The weather was nice but it was still a little cool for my liking, and Chris and I really just needed a day to unwind a bit. The Boy, on the other hand, was starting to get restless, so we decided Sunday morning to take him to EPCOT.

I will say that it's a little surreal being able to decide on a whim that we'll go to Disney World. Though we went to Disneyland fairly frequently when I was a child, it was always a big, elaborate, carefully orchestrated event. This was quite the opposite, almost as though we were going to a good friend's house for the afternoon and not a multi-million dollar theme park. But I digress.

He thoroughly enjoyed himself. The fun began as soon as we pulled into the EPCOT parking lot and he saw the Ball (Spaceship Earth) and the Mon (monorail, to the rest of us). We spotted birds on the way to the entrance, waved happily to the guard who checked my bag, and eagerly began our day in Future World. We went to the Land first (my favorite - one of these days I really want to do the greenhouse tour), then to the Living Seas (he wasn't a big fan of the giant aquarium - not that I can blame him when the turtles are about three times his size) before wrapping it up at Journey Into Imagination. Now, if you're a Disney fan and remember the old ride, clearly you'd be disappointed with the current ride. Sometimes, you just can't top the original. But the ride was changed long before The Boy was even a thought, so this is the only version of the ride that he knows - and he really likes it. Mind you, it's not the scream-with-laughter-oh-my-god-this-is-the-greatest-thing-ever kind of reaction, but his wide-eyed wow-this-is-so-cool expression says it all.

He and Chris watched the jumping fountains (if you've never been to EPCOT, the jumping fountains at Journey Into Imagination are almost worth the trip), and Chris "directed" the water where to go while The Boy watched, giggling as the water "obeyed" his father's commands. (I took video, but the file is too big to post here.) Then we went to the World Showcase for a quick trip around the world.

Before hitting the World Showcase, I stopped to sign up for a Kim Possible mission. (I love Kim Possible. I'm such a dork.) It's actually a pretty cool set up. You get a "Kimmunicator" (really, a cell phone) and have to go to a certain country, interact with a few things, and then "save the world". I highly recommend it.

So, when I signed up, my ticket directed me to Italy for my first mission. We set off by way of Mexico and, since it was almost noon and past The Boy's lunchtime, decided to stop in China for lunch. This was the start of a series of fits proclaiming Chris and me the meanest parents ever.

The Boy enjoyed a lovely lunch of Cheerios, dried cranberries, and an egg roll. (He loves egg rolls.) His belly was already full, but he desperately wanted the other egg roll. I refused to give it to him, wrapping it up instead to save for later. Tears and screaming ensued, and we quickly left the dining area and headed to Germany.

Now, Germany has a very cute outdoor train display. There's a town center, tiny townspeople, and little vignettes set up along the "mountainside" (really, just a little incline). As The Boy loves trains, Chris thought it would be something he would enjoy. And it was... until we had to leave.

"Tain!" he would cry between sobs. "Tain! Waaaaa!"

He was still bitter when I picked up my Kimmunicator in Italy, and his mood didn't change much when we got to Japan until I was almost finished with my Kim Possible mission. Without giving it away, I had to "defeat" a robot, and The Boy loved the little robot... so much so that he wanted to stay and watch it as more people completed their missions. He wasn't happy to leave, but he didn't throw a fit like he did in Germany.

We next stopped at the drums at the African outpost. He didn't take to them as we thought he might. He was, I think, a little overwhelmed at the sight of all the drums and the bigger kids who would run to the drums, beat on them for a little while, then leave just as quickly as they came. But he did enjoy them. We knew this because, as we explained we needed to leave, he burst into tears.

"Dum!" he screamed as we walked away. "Dum! Waaaaa!"

Chris led us to a little toy store in England that had, among other things, a Thomas the Tank Engine display. No trains were out, but there was a glorious display on a real Thomas the Tank Engine table! He so wanted to get out of his stroller to touch everything on the display. Mind you, there were no cars on it and all the pieces were glued to the table, but there was the car shed! And bridges! It must have been a glorious sight to his eyes. Chris and I looked at all the pieces, and though there were a few that we liked, we weren't prepared to spend that much money on toys that day. But we found a cute little shirt for The Boy, and then we were off - only it wasn't that simple.

"Thomas! Waaaaa!" he wailed, giant tears rolling down his cheeks. "Tain! Waaaaa! Thomas! Waaaaa!"

We took it in stride. "Yes, you have the meanest parents ever," Chris told The Boy. A passing couple laughed when they heard him say that.

As if to punish us, The Boy boycotted his nap yesterday. He didn't fall asleep during the car ride home (I did, though), and he was full of energy once we got inside the house. But he went to bed without fuss at 6:30 and didn't wake until 5:15. All the same, he was still tired when I took him to school this morning, and I warned his teachers that he would probably have no troubles going to sleep at nap time.

And he'll probably go to bed early again tonight, too. That's what we get for making him leave behind the train, the drums, and the Thomas display!

It's month end again and I'm wrapping up last month's sales. It's only one or two nights and it happens just 12 times a year, so it's really not that bad. But it usually means I come home late, well after The Boy has gone to bed.

Last night was one of those nights. He was asleep by the time I got home (and probably by the time I left work), so I didn't interact with him very much. He cried out a few times and I went into his room to check on him, but as he was never awake, he probably didn't realize I was there.

He woke around midnight with terrible teething pains. Chris was still awake and I was already asleep, so I heard Chris tending to him before I had a chance to roll out of bed. But the lights were on, which only means there is activity The Boy is missing. Chris took him into the family room to turn off the lights and prove the rest of the house was already asleep, and on the way back to his room, The Boy saw my sleeping figure and did not want to return to bed. Chris brought him to his bedroom and closed the door, and I could hear the little one banging against the door, wailing and throwing things. I felt so bad.

After a few minutes, he settled down and was asleep again.

This morning, he awoke around 4:30 or so. He was still sleepy, but he didn't want to go back to sleep. Chris brought him into our room and cuddled him for a little while... until he saw me and decided I would make a better pillow than his dad. By 5:15, he announced he was thirsty ("Mill! Mill!") and did not want to lie down anymore ("Up! Up!"), so I rolled out of bed (really, I was pushed) and led him to the kitchen for breakfast.

He went to the pantry, took out the box of Cheerios, and put it on his little table. Then he got a bowl from the cupboard, put it on the table, crawled into his chair and made a motion to let me know that I needed to put Cheerios into his bowl. I know we've been working with him on this for months now, but how did he grow up so fast?

Just a year ago, he pushed himself into sitting position on his own. Twelve months before that he was still wriggling about and kicking my internal organs. And now he is too long to stretch out sideways on his mattress (longways is still good), can peer into his top dresser drawer to tell me which shirt he would rather wear, puts away his shoes and dirty clothes (though bargaining is sometimes required for him to do the latter), climbs on and off the couch with the greatest of ease, and communicates well enough to let us know what he wants.

Clearly, he continues to amaze me every day - and I almost feel like I've missed everything. It's times like these when I wish I could stay with him and soak in every second of his toddlerhood, but it's simply not an option when there are bills to pay.

Sometimes I think the Women's Movement was the worst thing to happen to motherhood.

It actually wasn't a reindeer. It was a little boy on the brink of his Terrible Twos who isn't feeling too well and is simply frustrated that he can't explain his needs - or that Mommy and Daddy are hopelessly inept and understanding him, anyway. No amount of "Use your words" is helping anyone right now.

The thing is, he really is an absolute sweetheart. He's full of smiles and laughter and cuddles and cuteness... and then he hears that dreaded word ("No!") and madness ensues. "Stop!" is another surefire way to get him to throw himself onto the floor in a wailing heap. And "Shhhh" isn't high on his list of favorite things to hear, either.

He woke up at 3AM with a very wet diaper (that was irritating a newly-formed diaper rash) and refused to go back to sleep until both Chris and I were in the room with him. Even then, he went back and forth between us, before finally falling asleep on his dad's shoulder. This wouldn't have been so terrible, except that he also woke at 10 with a very dirty diaper, which was soon followed by an even dirtier diaper less than an hour after being changed. And while I rinsed and pre-treated diapers and pajamas, Chris sat with him in the living room in front of the darkened tree, gently rocking him to sleep in the same chair his own mother used to soothe him.

I don't know which of us had the tougher job last night.

What I do know is that none of us got enough sleep. The Boy was simply Mr Crankypants this morning. He didn't want to sit in his chair, which called for a meltdown. Then he didn't want the tray attached to his high chair (another meltdown), and then he didn't want to eat anything (meltdown), and then I didn't give him enough to eat (meltdown), and then I put his food into a bowl (meltdown), and then he knocked the bowl onto the floor - which resulted in a major meltdown because it not only meant he had no food, but that he also did something he wasn't supposed to do! It can only be by the grace of God that I finally managed to get him settled down long enough to eat a healthy breakfast of cereal, banana, soy milk, and part of an English muffin.

I let Chris know that The Boy was still tired this morning and suggested that he try putting him down around 6 or 6:30 tonight. I will probably not be home for tuck-in time, but The Boy really needs to get some sleep.

The Grown-Ups do, too.

I've been off the grid for the past few weeks. It hasn't been intentional, or, at least, it's not something I particularly wanted to do. But with traveling for the Thanksgiving holiday, closing up November at work, figuring out the best way to collect and organize The Boy's toys in the family room while still keeping them accessible, and otherwise keeping my head above water everyday, blogging - as much as I wanted to write - fell by the wayside and I dropped off the grid.

But I'm back! Well, sort of.

So, first things first: our first family road trip to Kentucky.

Chris and I took The Boy up to Kentucky to visit friends and family, and we drove 14 hours up and 15 hours back (the extra hour was thanks to some lovely rain and construction on I-75 throughout Georgia). Surprisingly, The Boy was amazingly well-behaved while we were on the road. Heading up, he was running a fever of 102; we discovered Monday morning after a visit to the local pediatriciac group (so glad I looked it up weeks before our trip) that he was fighting a slight case of pneumonia! So, Chris and I didn't get a whole lot of rest during the trip. Not only were we trying to cram in as much as we could into the week (most of which we didn't even accomplish), we were constantly on guard with The Boy.

Some highlights from the trip:

• The Boy, for some odd reason, was not very nice to my mother-in-law's dogs. The first night we arrived, one of the dogs was very excited and wanted very much to sniff him, and I think The Boy was overwhelmed by the experience. (It was way past his bedtime, he was in an unfamiliar place, and here's this creature he's only seen in pictures trying to sniff him and lick him... It was just too much to handle.) I tried to teach him to forcefully say, "No, dog! Go away!", which he copied somewhat successfully the next morning (it sound like mostly gibberish; the only understandable word was "dog") complete with finger-wagging, but he still alternated between using nice hands and gently petting the dogs nicely to suddenly whacking them and trying to kick them as they ran from him. No amount of "Use nice hands" and positive modeling altered his behavior towards them. How we survived that week free of snarls and nips is beyond me.
• My father-in-law set up a train that was initially purchased for my husband's second Christmas. My mother-in-law put up the tree the previous night (The Boy excitedly helped decorate it with garland), and my father-in-law put the train beneath the tree, which kept The Boy entertained for hours. He was so eager to play with it each day, and I frequently redirected him to it when necessary. I also got some wonderful pictures of him sitting in Chris's lap as they watched the train.
• On Tuesday, the entire family (meaning my mother-in-law, my father-in-law, and my sister-in-law) accompanied The Boy to Lexington to get fitted for a new pair of shoes. The last time I had his feet measured was just after his first birthday, so you can only imagine my horror when the man at the shoe store told me that his feet were now a size 7 when I had been cramming his poor little toes into Size 5-1/2 shoes! Anyway, this shoe store was the same store my in-laws took my husband when he was a tot, so Chris was delighted to see The Boy getting his feet measured on the same bench he once sat more than 30 years ago.
• Mid-week, once The Boy was feeling better, we bundled him up and let him run around the back yard. One thing we really do wish our current house had is a larger yard. (Of course, I also wish the weather was less humid and didn't rain so much in the Summer, so I could go outside and watch him play without worrying that one of us would suffer from heat stroke.) Anyway, he got so excited when he saw his stroller because he knew it meant he was going outside. I didn't realize until then how cooped up he must have felt.
• Thanksgiving Day was a little more trying than I thought, mainly because I was constantly on guard with The Boy. My sister-in-law brought her dog (who doesn't get along, it so happens, with my mother-in-laws dogs), and I had to be extra vigilant because, unlike my mother-in-law's younger dog, my sister-in-law's dog has all her teeth and didn't seem to be shy about using them. The Boy filled his belly with bread and milk and a little bit of pork. The baked apples didn't interest him (though I was sure they would), and he turned up his nose at the turkey and stuffing. But he had an extra-full belly when I lifted him out of his booster seat!

One thing I will say about the actual road trip is that I absolutely love my car. I really liked it before we went on our trip, but traveling in it was so nice. Rather than bundling up The Boy to take him to a questionable restroom every time we needed a diaper change, I just lowered the passenger-side seat, laid out a blanket, then changed The Boy's diaper with no problems. This was particularly handy because we could stop for gas and a diaper change simultaneously, and it only added a few minutes to our travel time. He never needed to get out of the car - a definite bonus with temperatures in the 40s throughout our trip. And it was roomy enough that my above-average-height husband was comfortable in it.

We put up the tree at home the day after we returned from our trip, and Chris set up the Monorail under the tree. The Boy is completely enamored of the Christmas decorations. This weekend, he was very observant and made sure that Chris was aware that all the lights were off when he awoke! (Oh, the horror!) Additionally, he wouldn't go to sleep last night until everything was turned off, assuring him that, no, he wasn't the only one going to sleep for the evening.

As for me, my Christmas shopping is done (hooray!) except for gifts for one friend, and I've got almost everything wrapped and properly labeled. I finally decided on my Christmas card design last night, so I only need to decide on the sentiment, print those onto cardstock, and assemble the cards. I'm really quite excited about it! The best thing is that I'll be able to use all existing materials - even the envelopes - and won't need to purchase anything.

Work has been incredibly busy (I've admittedly been slacking and not turning my full attention to the reports due this afternoon), and life at home is, well, life. But, aside from someone (who shall remain unnamed) having 48 hours of a mild stomach bug that resulted in copious diarrhea this past weekend, we're all doing pretty well.

And for that, I'm thankful.

Every so often, The Boy will wake up in the middle of the night needing a diaper (and clothing) change because he has wet himself. Last night was such a night. Thankfully, it was only 11 o'clock, so I wasn't completely asleep, and because I sang to him throughout the changing process, it didn't take much for him to go back to sleep.

Anyway, being the bad mommy that I am, I didn't have his clean pajamas folded and put away, so I had to grab a freshly cleaned one out of the laundry basket, instead. It happened to be a 24-month size pajama, which, when I bought them on Monday, looked like it would be awfully big on him. While I wasn't overly enthused to put my child into ill-fitting clothes overnight, I also didn't want to put him down naked and chance his fully awakening. So, on it went.

Well, color me surprised. Not only did it not dwarf him, it actually fit him very well! The feet are still a little big for now, but it was otherwise a good fit. I think we're officially finished with the 18-month pajamas. Aside from some overalls and a couple pairs of (adjustable) jeans, the pajamas were the last hold-outs.

Now, because he didn't completely wake last night while being changed, he was pleasantly surprised when he awoke this morning to see that there were dogs on his pajamas!

Of course, if that happened to me, I'd probaly freak out. But he seemed to take it in stride.

So, on the heels of this past weekend when I had to give The Boy his first time out for throwing a book at his father, I witnessed him hit B, a little girl in his class who happens to live down the street from us, square in the face. I was not pleased.

See, The Boy was holding a truck, and B wanted to play with it. She tried to take it out of The Boy's hands, and there was much crying and screaming over it. The teachers told B to let The Boy play with the truck, so she shoved it at The Boy. And he smacked her in the face, which also knocked her off balance, so she fell.

It was all I could do to not leap over the little gate.

I calmly (but quickly) opened the baby gate, made a beeline for The Boy, took the toys out of his hands (the truck and another car - why does he need two toys?), picked him up (making sure to keep him at arms' length), and put him down in a corner where I knelt down and sternly explained to him that what he did was wrong. He burst into tears (he knew he did something bad), I asked him to show me that he knew how to use "nice hands", he gently caressed my face, I gave him a big hug and a kiss and told him that I loved him very much, and he went off to play with the previously confiscated car and truck.

And, yes, all the teachers (and kids) saw me do it. The strangest thing, though, is that all the kids (except B) started circling us while I was talking to The Boy. Crazy kids.

This hitting and such is just so aggravating because I'm not entirely certain why he's doing it. I tell him to use his words (as limited as they are), to use nice hands, to be patient, to wait his turn, etc., but it doesn't seem to work. One of the teachers told me that all the kids hit someone at least once a day, so I should be overly concerned about it, but it's still so bothersome because I don't want him to be hitting people whenever he doesn't get his way.

I need Super Martian Robot Girl! Help!

This morning started out pretty well. The Boy woke at 4:30, but I brought him back to bed and, after one episode of Yo Gabba Gabba! and two episodes of Jack's Big Music Show, he fell back to sleep. I think I fell asleep before he did, in fact.

Anyway, as far as sticking to a schedule, this was an ideal morning. We were up by 6:45, then dressed, fed, and out the door by 7:40. I was on track to get to work before 8:30.

Then, en route to daycare, he started whining and shifting in his seat... and then there was the smell. But as we were close to school, I wasn't overly concerned. He settled down and was quiet, and once we got to daycare, I plucked him out of his car seat and let him walk to the building.

Since today is Halloween, the school is having what they call their Fall Festival. I signed up The Boy to bring bananas, which he dutifully turned over to his teacher, and because I was a little leery about some of the other things on the Fall Festival menu (Cupcakes? Donuts? Really?), he also brought a box of Mini Nilla Wafers. (He loves those cookies.) He gave the box to his teacher, and then I picked up The Boy to change his diaper.

All I can say is, "Thank God I didn't have him in a costume today or I would have cried."

There was poop everywhere. On his pants, on his legs, on his socks and shoes, on the bottom of his onesie, and, yes, all over his diaper and his privates. This was the kind of poop that requires a bathtub or shower to adequately clean up The Boy, and yet, all I had were wipes and wet paper towels. Ugh. (Note to self: Keep a washcloth in The Boy's cubby, just for days like this. Of course, once I have it there, it will never happen again at school.)

Twenty minutes later, he was clad in a new diaper, a one-piece shorts outfit that I keep for his backup attire, and a clean pair of socks (borrowed from his teacher), and I rubbed Purell all over his arms and legs to make sure he was at least sanitized (since I couldn't be certain he was clean).

One thing that cracked me up was that one of the teachers told me to wear these plastic gloves while I was changing him. So, I obliged (it's their rules, after all), but after just a few seconds, I realized that I couldn't get a good enough grip on the wipes to adequately get anything off The Boy's legs, so I tossed them. I don't wear gloves at home, and I've dealt with far worse poops than this one at home, so I think I'll survive.

Oh, but this particular poop... I washed my hands at school but could still smell it on my hands in the car. I got to work and washed them again, and I swear I can still smell it. I feel like Lady Macbeth, only with poop instead of blood (and without having committed murder, of course).

*Apologies to fans of British Literature. It's all I could think of!