These environmentally friendly bottles will stand out among the sea of plastic sippy cups. They are leak proof, recyclable and have no weird taste. They also come in a variety of adorable designs and colors. You can also get an adult-sized SIGG Bottle.
This is a question that keeps coming up from friends around me. Although I am not a tantrum expert, I can speak from parental experience.
Some tantrums are due to the fact (I think, anyway) that Nugget can’t communicate what she wants. In some cases (like not wearing a bib or sitting in the high chair), I will let her do what she prefers. She is neat enough not to need a bib, and I ask myself does it matter that she does not want to sit in the high chair (not really). If I assess something
does not matter, then I do not try to get my way.
In Unconditional Parenting, Alfie Kohn asked the question: “Why should our children do what we want them to do?”
Now, of course, safety issues come to mind when I read the above. Nugget is going to stay out of the street and be carried through parking lots (for now at least). She is going to wear a seatbelt, and she is going to follow the rules mommy and daddy follow (do not walk on the flowers). But, if it’s not a social or safety rule, I ask myself if I have to have my way or whether we can do it the way Nugget wants.
By doing the above, I learned Nugget can sit at the big table by herself. (How did she become such a big girl?) She will sit in the big chair at the big table and be happy as a clam.
I also discovered that she can use a fork without stabbing herself.
Parenthood: it’s a journey.
Sometimes she’ll still sit in her high chair. That’s fine, too. Sometimes we serve her at her little table, which is now in the living room (since we still are waiting for our furniture to arrive from Norway!) and sometimes she’ll eat on the run (while walking around the house).
In the past month, she started to want to walk around while eating. Instead of trying to have it our way, we are blending desires. The adults want to eat out, and the toddlers wants to move. Today, we all went out to eat Japanese. We ‘blended desires’ by sitting on the tatami mats, so Nugget had more room to move around. It worked really well!
Some tantrums ARE due to manipulation according to Dr. Sears. When we think she is having a ‘fake’ tantrum, we tend to say something like “I’m sorry you are frustrated about XYX” or ask her to use words and then let it go. We don’t give her overly huge amounts of attention when she has them.
I also think that at least one tantrum was from low blood sugar after she woke from nap. DH and I get cranky when we have low blood sugar, so I make an effort to offer lots of snacks through the day and do my best to make sure she eats something before napping.
Below are some links that you might find useful:
http://www.askdrsears.com/html/6/T063300.asp
And another way of seeing and handling tantrums…
http://www.babycenter.com/expert/toddler/toddlerbehavior/11622.html
Technorati Tags: toddler parenting babies tantrumstoddler tantrums
The other day, Nugget was at the sitter’s house and holding 4 crayons while coloring happily in her book.
The 3-year-old boy wanted some of her crayons. He tried to get one. She held them all firecely and said, “Peaaaaase!” (Please!)
He got frustrated and told the babysitter that Nugget would not let him have any crayons. The babysitter suggested he say “Please” as the Nugget had instructed.
Of course, the 3-year-old did not want to give in. He sat there and sat there and fumed. Finally, the desire to have a crayon overcame him.
He approached the Nugget and said, “Can I please have a crayon?” She handed him yellow. He wanted purple. She clung to purple with her small hands.
Most everyone knows not to get between the Nugget and a purple crayon.
The babysitter said, “you had better take the crayon that the Nugget is offering you. She might not offer it again.”
There you have it. My daughter is a budding Miss Manners at the tender age of 16 months.
Little did I know how bad one day can go.
The day we were to travel for the holidays, I woke at 4 or 5 so I could take a shower before we had to leave. We woke so early that we actually had to wake the baby before she could wake us up with her usual 6 a.m. squawk.
We had decided to fly, because the idea of driving (for 10 - 12 hours) with a baby made me break out in hives.
We were supposed to leave the house at 6 a.m. At 6:10 a.m., I asked DH if he had the birth certificate we needed for the airline.
Nope. He had made copies, but he didn’t know where the copies were located. I continued nursing the baby while he ran around looking for them.
At 6:20 a.m. we finally leave the house.
Our flight was to leave at 8:15 a.m.
We decided to leave without the birth certificate and get going. Of course, the highway was clogged.
“This doesn’t look good,” says DH.
“No, it doesn’t.”
We continue to crawl at 5 mph on the highway. We get past the traffic jam and start moving at a real speed. Time ticks on.
At the airport, we have to park the car in Outer Mongolia and take a bus into the airport. We do this while carrying a car seat, a baby, three suitcases and two diaper bags.
At one point, my husband exclaimed at me carrying the baby on the front, my diaper bag on my back and wheeling a suitcase in each hand. I felt like I’d conquered the world.
Until we got in line and were immediately told there’s no way we’d make our flight.
Why?
Because of the looooong line to check in. Because we were late. When you have a lap baby, there is often no easy way to check in. Because I had to go through the special security line that blows air on your body to check for bomb dust. My 16-month-old does not know how to make bombs, but she had to have air blown on her, too.
(Note: Coming back from an unnamed airport in a smaller city, I was shocked that I NEVER had to provide photo ID.)
After we had definitely missed our flight, I felt so much less stressed! Wow, what a difference! While people ran past us to get to their flights, we could amble along knowing that we had already messed up and missed ours.
What a relief.
We ambled around. We let the baby walk to the security gate on her own with no worries of being on time.
We elected to try for standby. We were 2 and 3 on the list.
After 3 hours of waiting, we had sunk to 9-10 on the list. Those darned special United frequent flyer whatever people had gotten ahead of us.
We decided to rent a car and drive.
Our luggage had already gone ahead to Detroit, MI.
At one point, our car was in Virginia, we were on a highway in Pennsylvania, and our luggage was in Michigan.
After we got the rental car, I took my somwhat sheepish husband to out favorite Japanese sushi place. I knew that getting loaded up on sushi would make everything okay. Plus, there’s a fantastic toy store. I knew we would need toys — lots of them — to make it 10 hours in the car with the baboo.
I tore through the store throwing coloring books, crayons, soft books and bascially any toy that won’t hurt if thrown at my head into the cart. More than $100 later, we were set.
Ah, the holidays!
While in NYC, I talked with my hosts about weird house guests. New Yorkers always have the “weird house guest” story, because they have so MANY guests.
One odd guest of theirs placed an eye pack over his eyes to nap in the middle of the day in their living room and crossed his arms crossed over his chest like a vampire, would only eat foods according the Blood Type Diet, and did extensive breathing exercises.
After that, it seemed like a good time to tell them I had to pump breast milk.
On Friday, I went to the Brooklyn Museum to catch the Ron Mueck and Annie Leibovitz exhibits. Google Ron Mueck if you don’t know him.
When I got back to our town, hubby and baby were there to meet me. Baby was up way past her bedtime, so that she could be brought in the car to the train station. She appeared stunned.
When we returned to the house, I nursed the baby. She conked back out. We all got to sleep.
I woke to the sound of a jet engine crashing into the house. Immediately, I turned to wake hubby and let him know about the jet engine.
He was not there.
Then, I heard the jet engine again. My husband vomited violently into the toilet. I’m half out of my mind due to grogginess and worry and — darnit — admiration at the force of his vomit. When I vomit, it’s all gentle and dainty. But his vomit was, like, manly.
The baby woke up due to the aforementioned noise. I got her back to sleep and brought husband some water. Then, I lay in bed awake until the baby woke up for the day and wondered if husband washed his teeth since those acids are bad for them.
Needless to say, we were both wrecks the whole next day. Of course, O didn’t nap that day either. She went to sleep, woke herself up by pooping, and then was cranky from lack of sleep and, probably, lack of exercise due to two brain-dead parents. My main goal this past Saturday was surviving long enough to make it to baby’s bed time, so that I could go to sleep myself.
I’m going to NYC in the morning, and I won’t have internet access. For the next few days, I won’t be posting.
This will be my first trip away from the little one. My chest has gone tight at times. I’ve imagined every horrible scenario.
She’ll be in great hands — her daddy — and I’m probably going to miss her more than she misses me. Then why do I feel slightly worried?
—-
I read an excellent post on the Cynnical Dad blog. Since I won’t be here for the next two days, I’ll share this post with you so you have some good reading material. I won’t leave you high and dry!
I feel so blessed to have a healthy child. When my friend, Doug, wrote me to say that J. Robbins (an indie musician behind Burning Airlines, Jawbox and perhaps even Government Issue) had a child with a devastating disease, I knew I had to help.
This is an excerpt from the web site for him:
Cal was born with a genetic motor neuron disease called Type 1 SMA, or Spinal Muscular Atrophy.
The facts are brutal: SMA kills kids. The disease affects the brain’s ability to communicate with the voluntary muscles that are used for activities such as crawling, walking, head and neck control, breathing, and swallowing. Type 1 SMA is usually fatal; most Type 1 babies will die before their second birthday.
I am donating money to help him and hope you will, too.
When my baby’s skin glowed orange after a week of eating lots of carrots, I thought I’d seen it all.
However, I was wrong.
Now, I’ve learned about Monthly Socks. You order a subscription. You get a pair of socks each month for a year. Brilliant.
I love socks. I go through socks. I always need socks.
Technorati Tags: Monthly Socks Gifts for Mom Holiday Gifts Mommy Blog Mom Blog
If you can think of an easier recipe, let me know. 
I am currently baking a sweet potato. This is how I do it: Preheat oven to 375 degrees, wash potato, rub potato with butter. Stick potato on cookie sheet in oven for 20 min. Remove potato after 20 minutes and poke holes in it with a fork (I poke a lot of holes to make sure it won’t explode in my oven) and then cook it another 25 minutes or so. Voila! The baby loves to eat sweet potato this way, and it’s so easy to do!
I am cooking two — one for baby and one for me. I’ll add a salad to mine for a healthy meal. You could also eat it with warm veggie soup, which is my preference on the colder days.
Technorati Tags: Easy Recipe Sweet Potato Recipe Making Baby Food Baby Food Recipe Mommy Blog Mom Blog Parenting Toddler Baby
In the wee hours of the morning, before I’m even awake, my little one is at her boom box. She is pushing all the buttons — play, stop, pause — and saying, “Dance! Dance!”
Searching for children’s music that won’t grate on my nerves has been a side mission of mine lately. I came across the music of Dan Zanes and am hooked. Thanks to NPR, I stumbled across the children’s music blog Zooglobble and discovered that there is MUCH more out there than I’d thought previously — and by bands with names like “The Sippy Cups” no less.
You can read Zooglobble’s list of Children’s Albums of 2006. Get dancin’!
Tags: Children Music - Mom Blog - Mommy Blog - Parenting - Kid Music - Punk Music for Kids - Rock Music for Kids
