Waiting on baby...

So, yesterday there was supposed to be this meeting between me and my little "bug". That's according to the doctors and those professionals who forecast these types of things. Today, according to MY calculations, was the big day. Unfortunately for everyone - well okay, for me pretty much, nobody knows these things. They can only estimate. She will come when she comes...when she's ready...when I'm ready... I thought I WAS ready but apparently there's a bigger plan and I am doing my best to accept that it is a greater plan than I could ever imagine. I am definitely more anxious this time than I was with my first little 15 day late-comer. I think the difference is I know what to expect now and I can hardly stand the wait to hold this little one in my arms. With Isaac I was a little nervous -- not about labor and delivery, but more about having him. I think I really just wanted to enjoy my last moments of complete independence while I was still comfortable. This time I know that the rewards of holding my baby far outweigh any independence I might have savored in those 15 days. All I can do now is focus on the fact that no matter when she comes, every minute of every day is bringing me closer to her. I can't wait.

Dude...where's my room?

It's kind of funny watching Isaac run down the hallway and pause at his old room. It's even funnier when he stops, thinks, shakes his head and says, "no" before running on down to his new room. Unfortunately, I don't have a video of him doing that, but this still makes me laugh every time.



P.S. Pay no attention to the mess...we were still in the midst of re-organization and storage when the video was shot. ;)

Baby Steps

Moving into the Big Boy room was kind of a big deal around here... There was a lot of thought that went into the whole deal. Who gets new furniture? Regular bed or toddler bed? Who gets the green room and who goes in the blue room? Where are we going to keep a spare bed for Nana and what do we do with the furniture we already have? It was finally decided that Isaac would go in the blue room with his furniture, we'd sell the guest furniture on craigslist (done in 1 day!), buy baby girl a new crib and convert his crib to a toddler bed. Since we had to take his crib apart to get it out of his room anyway, we went ahead and ordered the toddler rail so we could just do it all at once! Nice, easy plan, huh? Ha! I knew the whole transition would be tough - not just the part where he wasn't "caged in" anymore, but I figured he might have a hard time in a new room. It turned out we didn't have too much of a choice. We received the wrong hardware for the toddler rail and had to just leave it off -- and bedtime in the crib without a front on it lasted about 4 seconds. It was clear that when he wouldn't even get in the bed and then ran to the front of his crib we had removed, hugged it and said, "mine! mine!" that we weren't going to get anywhere. Totally fine with me! We put the front back on, put him to bed and called it a day. He slept like a baby.
I honestly don't think chasing him into bed in a strange room all night long is going to make it work. It's night 3 in the new room and he's doing great! He cries a little more at first, but he's sleeping great and waking up happy. And if he's in a crib till he's 4 so be it! Makes mommy's job and sleep-time a heck of a lot easier... :)

This week also marks week 30 of baby girl V's life and I'm starting to get a little anxious knowing the next 8-12 weeks are going to fly! We spent all day Sunday cleaning the garage, purging and donating some of my old crap and re-organizing. This is so good for me and I'm glad to be getting stuff done! One step at a time. It's all coming together...slowly, but surely. :)

Chicken nuggets and Cheerios

So this is the beginning of the 'terrible two's'? A proclamation of independence? The testing? The waring away of my already thin layer of patience with food issues? Three nights ago we had a mommy vs. toddler stand-off over some chicken nuggets. There was a slushie involved...a thawing slushie which I told him without thinking he could have when he finished his 3 chicken nuggets. That one statement led to that darn thing they call follow-through. It's something I've always judged other parents for not practicing and now it's here staring me in the face and I'll be darned if I turn into one of "those" parents. So, for one hour, 49 minutes I sat across the island from him and his two pieces of half-eaten nuggets and stood my ground. It was a battle of the wills suited for the record books...or at least a minute or so of home video...which I have. There was whining, screaming, crying, sign language and cute little head-tilts and words to get mommy to crack. I almost cracked. I did crack up more than a few times and had to hide my face in my arms. This kid is a professional charmer and knows just how to get his mommy to soften up. I explained to him that I wanted him to have his slushie. I wanted him to eat his chicken nuggets so I could give him his slushie and we could snuggle up on the couch for a while or play on the floor before he went to bed - but he got a will of steel from one of us. Mostly his daddy, in my opinion, but I will admit I can be pretty, uh, strong-willed myself. It was 10 to 9 before he finally took that last bite - ok, so I shoved it in his mouth, but he chewed it up and swallowed it with a smile and was rewarded with his orange (now totally melted) slushie. After two sips the coveted treat ended up down the front of his white ketchup stained t-shirt, jeans, chair and all over the floor. Off to bed he went with a full tummy and a big mess for mommy to clean up. Neither of us won that battle. I realize I got the result I asked for and so did he, but spending 2 hours sitting across the table from my kid while he's being held hostage in a high chair and I'm being held hostage on a bar stool is not my idea of 'winning'.
The next night was a different story, though, and I'm hoping that my tactics had some sort of an effect on his dinner etiquette. At the advice of my more experienced and equally patient as me cousin, I tried her timer and wooden spoon method. I'm still not sure if I can actually use a spoon to make meal-time into a eat-it-or-beat-it session, but something worked! He ate most of it and last night we had the same results. Granted, we had scrambled eggs and frozen peas last night, but hey, whatever works.
For breakfast this morning at his request, he had a box of Cheerios. No, two boxes of Cheerios. One box of Honey Nut and one box of plain. He carried them around and did a good job for a little while...and then it was over. The boxes started getting stacked, tipped, thrown at the dog, etc. So, I took them away and put a handful in a bowl. This made him mad and as soon as I turned my back he threw them all over the floor. Asking him to help mommy pick them up only resulted in more "no!"'s and throwing of Cheerios and of course eventually some of that adorable charm...which resulted in a little crib time. The Cheerios went in the trash and there will be nothing until 10:00 and the choice at that time is an orange or a banana. He's currently either pulling at my hand or rolling around on the floor trying everything he can to get his way. "Emmo", "Choo-Choo", "Why", "oanch", "appow", "may-may"...anything besides what is going on right now in order to regain control. This is why I'm writing and ignoring. I WILL get through the next 33 minutes until snack time.
Follow through. Not fun. Teaching. Necessary. But not fun. At all.