evening chaos

The other night, I was chatting my friend YL and she mentioned that they have their daughter, BabyH, sit in her high chair throughout the meal.  They all eat dinner together every night, and BabyH patiently hangs out even after she's done eating.  We've actually talked about this before, and I'm always impressed.  Not so much about sitting in the high chair, which is cool, but more about the fact that they always eat dinner together.  I have other friends that manage this, too, and I don't get it.  How do you guys do it? 

Our evenings are much more chaotic.  G and I take turns with daycare dropoffs and pick ups, but lately, I seem to be doing more of the dropoffs in the morning.  Which means it's usually anywhere from 8-8:30 before I leave D at daycare and often close to 9 by the time I get to work.  Putting me home in the evenings at about 6 at the earliest.  By this point, D is already hungry, as she eats dinner from anywhere between 5:30 and 6.  So G's already feeding or has fed her by the time I get home.  I'm sure we could push out her dinner a bit, but she has her snack at daycare at 3, so not sure how long she could hold out.  Plus, I'm not that fast at cooking.  So home at 6, I'd be lucky to get dinner on the table by 6:45.  D's bedtime is 7-7:15.  It's just not enough time for us to have dinner and get her ready for bed. 

Not to mention that sometime during all this, we have dogs that need to go out and be fed.  And our little princess runs on her own schedule.  So we have to allow for everything to take longer than it might on its own.  Books before bed, for example, are often extended by her inability to pick out the ones she wants to read and god forbid we pick them out for her.  If she's playing outside, her highness decides when it's appropriate for her to finish with the dirt and come on in.  We can pick her up and haul her kicking and screaming to do whatever we want, of course, but we've found that "convincing" her there might be a more fun thing to do is much better for everyone's sanity.  Toddler Time, I've discovered is much slower than Regular People Time.  So it seems easier to just allow extra time for D to pick out which PJs she wants to wear and try to put her socks on by herself.  Rushing it seems to get us nowhere.  So basically, what I'm saying is, there's no way we could have dinner by 6:45 (even if I could by some miracle consistently get dinner on the table by 6:45) and get D to bed by 7. 

And I've tried many ways to streamline it.  If we're not busy, I'll try to cook a bit on weekends to prepare for the week.  And lately, I've been trying to make sure I have a meal plan for the week with groceries ready.  Dishes washed the night before so the kitchen isn't all cluttered.  But beyond this, I'm stumped.  Last night, I got home at 6:45 -- just in time to help with bath time.  Usually G handles most of the bedtime routine but it sucks when I'm already barely home in time to see my kid.   Plus, she was going through a "Mama"-only thing last night, so I read books and hung out for a bit with her in the rocking chair.  She was being extra cute and chatty, so it was 7:30 by the time I left her in her crib. 

And that's when I started cooking our dinner.  Things were extra slow last night, too, we didn't even end up eating until almost 9.  I know we can do better than this, but having something ready for everyone by 6 just seems beyond me.  It's a bit easier when I go into work early and pick D up from daycare.  The dogs will get walked, dinner gets made at a decent hour.  Sometimes it's completely ready by the time D eats, and I'll sit with her and have a bit, too.  Other times, I feed her as I'm cooking.  So while I may not be done with a curry, for example, she'll get the sauteed tofu and veggies as I go along.  But on those days, G is running late because he's gone into work late after dropping D off.   So our shot at a regular family dinner seems impossible at this point and no two evenings are exactly the same. 

Yet, so many people I know manage to do it.  I'm baffled by this. 

And I think it's becoming clear that some sort of consistency is necessary because dinnertimes are pretty chaotic with the kid now.  Sometimes, she'll demand to go outside or sit at her little table instead of her high chair.  Last week, we shared a lovely meal on our bed.  A few times, G has taken her high chair out to the backyard.  He likes it because he can water our plants while she eats.  But I don't know, more and more, I feel like we're giving in too much.  And with this, like all things, I'm sure that our child will do much better with a routine.  It's hard because my family was never one for formal meal time rules or anything, and G and I often eat our meals in front of the TV.  Honestly, we love that we can enjoy our meal in peace after D's asleep.  So we've been lax ourselves for so long that it's probably making it hard for us to make the switch too. 

So . . . any tips out there for a successful and consistent family meal?

spoiled

Last weekend, we went up to visit G's dad and dad's gf.  It was a nice weekend, and although our kid didn't really want a whole lot to do with her grandpa, she loved saying "gampa" and looking for him when he wasn't in the room.  And he got her a monkey puppet that she loved.  A week later, she remembers that he was the one that gave it to her.  She loved his dogs, Bo-Bo and "Tetie" too.  Anyway, throughout the weekend, my father-in-law's girlfriend, B, kept telling us how spoiled the little D is.  Like constantly.  I hate to complain because she's mostly pretty sweet, but OMG already.  Even G got a little fed up, which is actually saying a lot.

It had me thinking -- how spoiled is our kid?  I mean, don't get me wrong.  I don't have a lot of illusions.  I know we shower a heck of a lot of attention on her.  We've rarely let her cry for more than a few minutes.  If she throws a fit, I'll either give in or redirect her.  Sure, we'll ignore sometimes and she'll get over it, but more often than not, we'll at least try to distract her with something funny.  I think it's a combination of self-preservation as well as the desire to not have her be too unhappy.  Just a few weeks ago, I was telling a friend that I kind of let her do whatever she wants.  And this isn't entirely accurate, but I do feel like I weigh each scenario in my head.  Say, for example, she's sitting at the dinner table and playing with the butter knife.  How much do I really care so long as she's happy?  Is it worth a tantrum right now?  Probably not.  I mean, I know she's not going to stab herself with the knife.  If it were a kitchen knife, it might be a different story, but chances are, I'd just let things be.

It's probably why half the time now, we let her take her meals outside, G going so far as to move her high chair out there last night.  The sudden screaming fits coming in for dinner just wasn't worth it to us.  So yah, spend more than a few days at our house, and I think it'd be very clear who  rules the roost.

But here's the thing.  The little D didn't display any crazy behaviors last weekend.  She wasn't throwing tantrums left and right.  She ate nicely at the table and then asked to get down.  She didn't knock over the dog water bowl or play in it.  We left her in her crib at night and she fell asleep.  She didn't start crying and we didn't rush to her side.  And in fact, she'd wake up early, and then hang out in her crib for over an hour until we were ready to get up.  "Mom and Dad are still sleeping," I'd say, and I have no idea what she did after that.  I heard a little humming, some talking to the dogs, but I was mostly out.  Honestly, I thought she was pretty darn well behaved.  So I guess what I'm saying is, how the heck did she seem spoiled last weekend?  And I certainly wasn't the one giving her pretzels and cookies before each meal either.

I was talking about it with a coworker the other day and we were wondering if part of it is generational.  There is something that we do that I'm guessing B maybe didn't.  We pretty much follow the little D around everywhere.  One of us is usually playing with her exclusively if we're both home.  "Sit" our daughter will tell us, patting the floor beside her as she's playing.  And what do we do?  We sit, of course, doing as we're told.  If she wanders to another room, we follow.  Actually she usually asks us to come with her.  "Go!"  She'll point.   I don't know if it's her personality or just what we've accustomed her to, but she likes having us close.  If she's playing with something, she likes to show us.  I guess you could say she's bossy and we take our orders well.  If I'm home alone with her and need to start dinner, I'll usually have her on the floor of the kitchen or on the counter next to me.  The farthest she might be is around the corner on her play mat.  If she's outside, chances are she's perfectly happy digging in the dirt on her own.  And I would probably take advantage to wash a few dishes or start a load of laundry.  But I come out and check often and usually find myself fairly quickly setting down next to her as soon as I've done a few things.

G is mostly the same.  When he's not running around the house with her on his shoulders or tickling her, he's keeping an eye on her outside while he waters the lawn or does yard work. These days, we've even enlisted the little D's help, handing over bean seeds for her to plant or having her point out dog turds for us to pick up in the yard.

Honestly?  I think that's exactly how it ought to be.  She's not really old enough to play on her own for extended periods.  And I kind of like it.  Last weekend, she sat on the front step and pointed next to her as always.  Sit!  I did, and she sidled over next to me, put her arms on my legs, and started "chatting."  Ummmm.  (It's her new thing, I guess I say "um" a lot, and she's started imitating).  "Ummm, Cow!"  Oh yah, I asked, what does a cow say?  "Ooooo!"  And on and on we went, her coming up with different animals and then telling me what sound they made.  Actually I kind of love it.  Sure, our conversations aren't deep.  But there will come a time when she's not this happy to spend time with me, and I know I will miss it.  But maybe it's considered spoiling?  I know my mom has mentioned that when we were growing up in India, she'd set us down and go on about her day -- housework, cooking, whatever else needed doing that day.

And for the record, I'd like to point out that our kid could probably manipulate us far more than she actually does.  At night, she's been pushing it a bit for bedtimes, asking for more milk or another book.  And of course, we give in at least once.   But as soon as she's in her crib, our work is done.  She doesn't cry even though she undoubtedly knows that we come running the moment she does.  We sit with her for a few minutes before bed in the rocking chair, and before long, she points to the crib and tells us, "Bye!"  Remember how we rocked her to sleep til she was one?  Apparently, it didn't make her clingy or give her poor sleep habits or keep her from learning how to sleep on her own.    So I guess what I'm saying is, if this is where spoiling gets us, it all seems to be working out just fine.

Over the weekend, while she was in her travel crib, she saw me finally open my eyes and look at her.  It couldn't have been for longer than a second.  But instantly, I saw her lean forward and throw her lovey blanket to the floor.  And then heard a loud, "Oh oh!!  Get it?!?"  When I dragged myself out of bed to grab it for her, she raised her arms, grinned, and said, "down?"  So even when she manipulates, damn if it isn't cute.  

lucky

Last night, around 8pm, G and I each received a phone call.  We both missed the call, but it was from a urologist we've never met.  We have an appointment with him a month from now for a second opinion.  He was calling to say that if we want, he'd be happy to talk to us over the phone.  He had the little D's scans in front of him and that he'd hate for us to be waiting on him to move forward. 

This morning, I still can't get over how nice this was.  And how lucky we've been with all our doctors.  Randomly, the other day, I called our pediatrician to update her on the little D's latest, and she called me back within 5 minutes.  It's great -- typically, when I call her, we'll get patched through to HER.  Not a nurse, not a help line.  Her receptionist might take a message if she's in with a patient, but I can always expect a call back.   Whether it's because D's burning up with a fever or just constipated.  And on weekends, if it's an emergency, I'll call her directly on her cell.  That's right, I got my daughter's pediatrician's private number on my speed dial. 

Our urologist visited us in the hospital when we were admitted in March.  When we discovered D's hip dysplasia last year, he was the one that took the x-rays over to the orthopedics department and arranged for us to see some one right away.  Our orthopedic surgeon ran over from her clinic after D's surgery last year to catch us in the hospital parking lot before we took off.  She had the results of D's MRI and wanted us to know that everything looked great.  While the little D might be one of the unluckiest kids alive when it comes to her medical issues, we're incredibly fortunate to have an awesome team of doctors looking out for her. 

Last week, we had a follow-up with our urologist.  The little D got another VCUG scan, which entails an Incompetent Fellow (not always -- last year, we had an Awesome Doc who got to relay the bad news that our kid incidentally had a DISLOCATED RIGHT HIP, by the way) inserting a catheter through D's urethra, which is the tube that carries the urine from the bladder out of the body.  The bladder is filled with  contrast material, and they wait for the little D to pee.  During the process, x-ray images show where and how the urine is flowing.  It's how we diagnosed D's reflux last year, and we were looking to see if there was any improvement in the severity of the reflux since. 

Afterwards, we went through what was probably the longest ultrasound ever.  Overall, I'd say it was one of our calmer hospital visits.  The little D cried through the VCUG (and it took a while before she peed, so the wait was a bit excruciating).  But she let us entertain us during the ultrasound with the TV and a book with animal pics.  I think the ultrasound tech was especially enchanted by her pronunciation of kangaroo ("na-na-noo").  And she happily left the appointment with a free car toy as a reward for her patience.  During the actual visit with the urologist, she gleefully squealed "idney" every chace she got (i.e., kidney).   I'm not sure how much our urologist enjoyed talking over the squealing, but I'd call the appointment an overall success. 

The bad news:  absolutely no improvement in her reflux, so we're heading to surgery.  And to make matters even more interesting, our doc thinks there's something else going on with the little D's insides.  He thinks, based on something he saw in the VCUG scan, that our kid has what's called a duplicated system.  Most of us have one tube (ureter) going from each kidney down to our bladder (so total of 2, one on each side).  He thinks she has 2 on each sides, going to a different part of each kidney.  So her kidneys have almost 2 separate sections to them.  I guess it's not that unusual.  Some people have this and never know so long as things are working properly.  But in her case, one or both tubes is refluxing, hence the issue.  During surgery, the doc will open her up and move both sets of tubes to a non-refluxing procedure.  In most cases, they don't remove the extra tube, just leave them both there.  It's an abnormality that she'll just live with.  Once they fix the reflux, it shouldn't really matter.  But it does make the surgery a bit more complicated.  And he can't verify that this is actually what's going on until just before surgery when he'll insert a scope up there to see.  I guess the VCUG isn't really the scan to see this type of structural anamoly, he was just deducing based on the angle of something or another.  He showed us, and to him, it seemed perfectly clear.  Heh, this is why he's getting paid the big bucks. 

So yah, good times.  While we like and trust our urologist, we asked for a second opinion just to have another set of eyes go over our kid's scans.  Our ped has been going on and on for some time now about having a different doc at the clinic look over our daughter's history, just to make sure nothing is missed.  Apparently this doc is a bit of a wunderkind, who can see things that other docs can't.  She'd actually referred us to him to begin with, but he was on sabbatical at the time, so the clinic had set us up with our younger, less-experienced doc.  Since then, she's mentioned him anytime something big's come up (like when we found out D had had a kidney infection for probably months back in March).    "Next time," our ped groused, "I'm calling Dr. K directly.  This is ridiculous.  He'll know what to do."  etc., etc.

So, our call last night?  The illustrious Dr. K himself.  :)  We scheduled our 2nd opinion appointment but his first opening wasn't for another month.  In the meantime, I've been working with the scheduler for our doc to set up a surgery time.  I thought we'd get that on the books (since I doubt we're going to get a drastically different opinion from the 2nd doc).  And ideally, we wanted to do it in mid-June, so I want to make sure we get a slot.  Well, it turns out that our urologist has some openings this month but then nothing again until the end of July/early Aug.  The scheduler actually called us at first to see if we wanted to go in for surgery TODAY.  Um, no.  Even if we were ready, how can we with our second opinion not scheduled until next month? 

Anyway, hence our surprise phone calls last night.  I'm not sure if the scheduler happened to mention our dilemma . . . she said he happened to be walking past the other day while we were talking on the phone.  Or maybe our urologist said something.  I don't know.  But still, suddenly, there he was, offering to go over everything earlier so that we're not waiting on him for a surgery time.  I think this means that his opinion is also that we need surgery and that he doesn't want us to wait.  But still, it's nice, right? 

Lately, I haven't always handled the hits as well as I probably can.  It's been frustrating to watch our kid go through one thing after the next.  But the one thing I am glad for is that we have such amazing doctors, who have all been so committed to making sure nothing falls through the cracks.  I'm part of various support groups for parents of kids with hip and kidney disorders.  From what I've read, this isn't always a given, so we got that going for us at least. 

mornings

Someone in our house is clearly a morning person. I’ll give you a hint, it’s most definitely not me, G, or the dogs. Well, although sometimes Tucker just can’t hold it as long as he used to anymore, so he won’t say no to an early morning wake up call. 

This morning, I woke up just before 6am to the sounds of, “No! No! No!” coming through the monitor. Prior to this, there may have been some humming or singing. I always hope that somehow my kid will talk herself back to sleep and this has happened exactly never. Yesterday, through some miracle that I’m still researching and trying to re-create, the little D slept til 8! But for the most part, mornings appear to be her favorite time of day. She rarely wakes up crying. It used to be that she’d start fussing as soon we grabbed her and keep crying until she got her morning sippy of milk. But these days, there’s not much of that either. She’ll smile happily when she sees me and ask very nicely for “mi.” She’ll wait patiently while we get it warmed up and let the dogs out. This morning, I spilled a little on the counter and she said with adorable concern, “Uh oh. Towel? Doggie?” Basically she was offering me her doggie blanket to use as a towel to wipe it up.

This morning, she had the added pleasure of a new visitor, my brother’s dog Porter, who had arrived after she fell asleep last night. She recognized him immediately. “Po-po!” She’d mostly taken to calling him “poo-poo” on his last visit, so I guess her pronunciation is getting a bit better. She cried when he didn’t come back to the bedroom with us, so I had to bribe him back with treats. And when he came in and went straight into his crate, she went to the edge of the bed, and peered into it, saying, “Peep a boo.”

Recently, there have been a couple of additions to the little D’s room that’s made her even more cheerful when waking up. A clock with a dog on it, with eyes that drift back and forth as the clock ticks-tocks. Also, a hanging, storage thing with a purple cow on it. The kid approves of the new decor. When she wakes up from naps, we’ll hear her cry out “Doggie. Hi. Cow. Hi.” We didn’t realize at first that she was talking to the new inanimate objects on her wall. When we’d finally go in to grab her, she’d still be at it.

Most mornings, she hangs out patiently while I shower, playing with random toys on the bathroom floor. After, we brush our teeth together. She watches me lotion up and does the same for herself a few minutes later when I start dressing her for daycare. Yesterday, she rode back and forth on her lady bug in the kitchen, “helping” me put away the dishes.

It’s hard not to be charmed. But man, is it too much to ask that she be this cheerful maybe about half hour later?

Potty time

So . . . we've decided it's about time.  Probably in the next weeks, we're going to start potty training.    Well, not us specifically, because believe it or not, we're actually quite good at using the toilet.   But G and I are thinking that it's time to get the little D on board, as well.  It's early.  Looks like most people don't really start until their kids are over 2, maybe two and a half.  Ok, so there are people that start at birth, which sounds kind of kooky (google "elimination communication" to read all about it).  But otherwise, two and a half seems to be about the earliest I've heard people say they've tried it.  So maybe we're setting ourselves up for failure.  And I think we might be at a little more of a disadvantage since D can't walk yet.  At this point, the most we'd be able to do is have her tell us when she wants to go, and we'd go set her on the toilet seat.  Most of the sites that I've been reading seem to assume that the child can get himself to the bathroom and help undress, as well.  And the techniques that I've been reading about seem to assume a certain level of comprehension:  a child who can understand that she messed up if she has an accident, can help clean up, etc.

But there's nothing I like more than a challenge.  Actually, it's something that we've been thinking about for a while.  With D's kidney reflux, the earlier we can potty train, the better.  I guess the theory is that the more a child can learn to urine purposefully/all at once, rather than in trickles throughout the day, the less urine refluxing overall.  So it's been in the back of our minds for a while that maybe we should try to start.  And, for months now, daycare has been putting D on the toilet whenever the older kids go.  Most of the time now, when they leave her long enough, she'll go!  So her teacher has been saying for months that potty training is going to be so easy with this one.  Plus, she'll tell us when she poops (our kid, I mean, not the daycare teacher).  Sometimes, I think she confuses her pee as poops, and usually, she doesn't say anything until after she's gone, but still that's a step in the right direction.  And, she can spot the dogs pooping and peeing from a mile away.  "Mia, poo poo?" she'll ask, well aware now of what happens on our walks.  I've also been working on helping her differentiate pooping vs. tooting, and coming along rather well at it.

So in January, G bought a little portable potty, and I started asking daycare for more specifics.  But I didn't love what I was hearing.  Apparently, they let her sit there for 20-30 minutes, because sometimes that's what the other kids do.  And then they'll check at some point and find that there was poop or pee in the toilet.  I don't have that kind of patience.  And anyway, I tried setting her on our toilet at home and she cried in seconds.  Plus have you seen those little portable potties?  SO gross.  Cleaning them seems so disgusting.  At daycare, they have these adorable little baby toilets that flush and everything.  I started to wonder if this might be a job best left for professionals.   And anyway, all this was before our last round of hospitalizations.  With the prospect of surgery now to fix the reflux altogether, it may be a moot point anyway.

Somehow, though, the idea has persisted and we're finally ready to give it a shot.  We returned the portable potty and bought one that just attaches to the regular toilet.  I've tried setting the kid on it a few times, and she's usually cried.  So yesterday, I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea. She's kind of (bizarrely) in love with Elmo these days (I say, bizarre because we couldn't figure out how she even knew him), so I found a youtube video of baby Elmo using the potty.  Yes, there really is nothing that can't be found on the internet.  If you're looking for something to drive you absolutely bonkers, find this video and listen to it over and over again.  I guarantee you that it'll get the job done.  So I set her on the toilet and played the video on the phone.  She loved it.  She didn't pee or poop but stayed on the toilet for like 10 minutes watching the video over and over again (see?  this is how I know about bonkers).

We did this a few times yesterday, and she seemed to completely lose her aversion to the toilet.  I was proud until I read online that it's actually a terrible idea to play videos while your kid's sitting in the toilet.  Basically, you don't want them so distracted that they forget to actually do their business. Which probably explained why she didn't go once in the toilet yesterday, even though we sat her on it several times.  The point of the article seemed to be especially driven home this morning.  When D woke up, she asked to go sit on the potty!  I mean not right away, but later, while we were laying around in bed, she asked for the potty and lifted her arms to be taken there!  I was SO SO proud, thinking, man, maybe our kid is totally ready after all.  So we went through the entire production of getting out of bed, taking off her footy pajamas (which are definitely NOT conducive to potty training), and setting her on the toilet.  She sat there for all of 4 seconds, smiling joyfully, before asking, "Emo?"  The little turd just wanted her video!!  Needless to say, she did not pee in the toilet, and I'm guessing she didn't have to go at all.  Honestly, it was just long enough after waking up that she probably did all her peeing into her diaper, so that should have been a tip off right there that she was just yanking our chains.

But still, the weekend hasn't been a total waste.   I sat her on the toilet one more time this morning.  She still didn't do anything, but she reached over for the toilet paper, grabbed a bit, and started wiping her crotch!  It was super cute.  I think issues with walking and Elmo aside, she's ready in the ways that matter.  She knows what she's supposed to do and seems to have an interest in doing it.  So it can't hurt to give it a go.  We'll probably keep trying haphazardly for now, but then start in earnest one of the next few weekends when we have absolutely no plans.  I want to make sure I know what I'm doing so that I don't get her hooked on more Elmo videos as incentive.  She has her urology appointment in about a week, so I want to see if surgery's going to interfere in some way.  And I want to make sure that we're on the same page as daycare.  So we'll see how it all goes!

living with a hoarder

So I love my husband, I do, I do. But one of my biggest pet peeves about him is that he LOVES to buy. And somewhat related to that, he can’t stand to throw anything away. Now, I’m someone who may keep things for a while, but will periodically go on cleaning frenzies where I’ll toss out my left foot if I decide that I haven’t used it for a while. So obviously, I don’t get this particular trait AT ALL. I’m pretty sure G’s got boxes of term papers from college, ashtrays made when he was 5, and receipts dating back to the dark ages. Because yes, he’s that old.

On the buying front, our garage also contains enough garbanzo beans to feed an army, cases of various juices that just “sounded good” but turned out to be disgusting, and diapers for when the little D turns 5 (because Cost-Co happened to be having a sale and who cares if she can’t wear a size 10 just yet). If the world is engulfed in a nuclear war, our family will be able to sustain ourselves in our garage for a good month. Assuming of course that we’re able to get to anything with all the other stuff piled over it. Last week, I had do some acrobatics (climbing over boxes, squeezing through stacks of who knows what) to reach a little bag of rice that was in our garage cupboard. Every effort I make to clean out our freezers so I can actually see what’s in there is countered by, “Oh look at that! There’s more room for more stuff. Awesome!” As many of you know, G is probably one of Cost-co’s best customers (and best returners, because he’ll be eventually able to scrounge up a receipt from 5 years ago to return that box of almonds we bought back then and opened but decided we didn’t like).

The other night, I was clearing one of our end tables in preparation for the maids and came across a weird box of black charcoal-y looking things. Included in the vicinity was some paperwork from some lab of some sort. Assuming it was junk mail, I started to throw it away. But no, it turned out it was a valuable test ordered by my husband to check the presence of radon in our homes.

“What does that mean?” I asked, because I'm such an excellent communicator that way.

“What do you mean, what does it mean? It tests for radon.”

“Yeah, but what makes you think we have radon in our homes?"

“I don’t know. We might.”

“What is radon anyway and how would we have gotten it in our homes?”

“I don’t know, I guess sometimes it’s just there.”

“I don’t get it. I mean, radon is a gas right? Does it emanate from the stove tops?”

“I DON’T know.”

“How does the test work?”

“I don’t know. You test and send out for the results.”

And round and round we went. I honestly wasn’t trying to give him the third degree to start. I was just perplexed and curious about how this sudden need to test our house, but G’s short responses just frustrated me more and more. It was only about 10 minutes into this rigmarole that I realized that G wasn’t trying to be evasive. Clearly, this is what happened: he saw something somewhere talking about radon emissions and decided to send out for the test. This could have been anywhere from a few months to a year ago. Since then, he’d forgotten all about it. But of course didn’t have the heart to toss the test out because who knows why it sounded important to him at the time. And possibly my endless questioning frustrated him because he couldn’t remember jack squat.
This is how most of the junk around our house piles up. At some time or another, it sounded “cool.” At any given time, you could come over to our house and we’d be able to scrounge up all kinds of snacks that we haven’t eaten because we simply haven’t remembered that we had them at all. When my mom was here, she mentioned that she found some cashew things under the laundry in the garage, and she hoped she didn’t mind but she broke open the bag to have some. The little D likes bubbles, so of course someone went out and bought not your average soap bottle/bubble blower but a monster, battery-operated bubble shooter. That we can’t use in the house because it leaves a soapy residue throughout the entire room. So of course now, it sits in the garage after we used it for maybe 10 minutes.

Our fights on the issue follow pretty much the same pattern. I complain, G might stop for a while, and then, within a few weeks, buy more. Or he finds ways around my complaints. For example, I told him he wasn’t allowed to buy food at Cost-co until we make a dent in what we already have.  He's abided by that rule, but later in the week, shipments started to arrive from Amazon containing, you guessed it, food. None of it is perishable, is probably his favorite defense. We could have it for years before it goes bad.

So, any tips for living with a hoarder/compulsive shopper?

In other news (i.e. come on now, I'm entitled to a little gushing)

Aside from her being sick all the time and probably having the worst luck ever when it comes to medical issues, I gotta say that our kid is pretty darn awesome.  At 20 months, she's definitely not a baby anymore.   There are so many moments now that I look at her and I see the little toddler staring back at me.  She knows what she wants and asks for it, though often imperfectly.  It's kind of amazing to watch the transformation, although I have a feeling that I'll always miss our baby.  

This morning, she got up at 5:30 (fun times) looking for her doggie blanket.  Usually, she'll do this periodically through the night.  She loves her blankie but loses it constantly. If she wakes up and it's not there, she'll kind of cry a little, crawl around for it and then eventually find it or not, but still go back to sleep.  But this morning, there was no crying.  Instead, there was this, "Doggie??!?  Doggie!  Doggie!"  I glanced at the monitor and saw her sitting up and reaching around and finally sent G in to find it for her.  The half sleeping cries are much easier to ignore than the demands we heard this morning.  But then once he was in there, she decided that she also wanted "Mi"  (milk) so it was all a done deal.  I think we both resigned ourselves to not sleeping the rest of the morning.  When I peed and made my way to the kitchen, G was already warming the milk, and the little D was smiling happily, like it wasn't 5:30 in the morning. 

When I went to pick her up from daycare yesterday, she was riding a little bike around in circles outside.  A little boy bumped past her on his own vehicle, and she looked at him and said, "OW" although I know it didn't hurt.  She saw me and scuttled over but didn't want to leave.  It was windy and there was a tree above us with pretty little flowers that kept blowing off.  "Flower,"  she said, pointing to the petals.  Or something like that, it probably sounded more like "owwa."  I reached up and plucked a few off the tree to hand to her, and before I knew it, a bunch of the other kids wanted one too.  So I grabbed a few more and started distributing.  And my kid clutched her own flowers a little more tightly while simultaneously pointing to the other kids and said, "mine."  

At home, too, she has several bike-type toys, and they've quickly become her favorite.  She'll push along through the whole house, sitting on her trike or ladybug.  Choo-choo, she'll say from her train, or beep beep from the other ones.  Beep, beep, she'll tell the dogs if they're in her way, or the wall if she happens to hit it.  Or sometimes, she'll use them to get closer to the dogs. Yesterday, she went towards Tucker wanting to give him a kiss.  "To-tor" she kept saying, while smacking her lips and wheeling towards him.  Totor just got nervous and left.  Probably because he knows that her love is fickle.  One minute she might be trying to kiss the dogs, the next she'll be pushing them off their beds to take their place.  Or, "go" she'll say, pointing her fingers, a new one she learned from my mom last week.  "Go" she'll tell me too, if I'm getting a little too close.   

Last week, my mom was here and watching her during the day.  One morning, I had her with me while I was grabbing some socks from my dresser, and she happened to see a hat in the drawer.  "Hat?" she said, reaching for it.  I took it out and tried to put it on her head.  No, she said, mama?"  So I put it on and grabbed one of hers from her room.  A cute little green one.  Tried to put it on her head and she said no.  But later, that morning, my mom said she reached for it again and tried to put it on, saying all the while, "Mama hat."  

She throws tantrums like you wouldn't believe.  Last week, she wanted to vacuum, and I let her crawl around for a while, pushing the vacuum along.  If she'd been more effective at it, I'd have let her go at it all day.  But instead, I tried to finally put a stop to it and she wailed and screamed and yelled.  But just as often, her tantrums are of the stubborn type, the refusal to do something she doesn't want to do, quiet but determined.  

No thanks, I don't want to get up just yet, please.  One more "boop?" 

She loves her "boops" and can sit around for long stretches, just looking at the pictures.   She also loves music and dance, and will often ask for music in the background while we're playing or eating.  "eh" she'll say, swaying back and forth.  G started playing her hip hop and rap, and our kid can get jiggy with it with the best of them.  Once, we saw her in the back seat, her blankie in her hand, her thumb in her mouth, dancing to Eminem.  Clearly, only the best for our girl.  And I have no idea where she gets it from, seeing as how G and I both have 2 left feet. 

Diya and Dada, listening to some tunes

The other day, I was doing something in the kitchen while she was hanging out in the family room.  Peep a boo, she said, peering from around the side of the couch.  Or, "horse" she'll say and point to our heads, meaning she wants to ride around the house on our shoulders.  Everyday seems more fun than the one before.  She still doesn't walk, but her legs have gotten closer and closer together.  She seems to need less and less assistance to stand and takes every opportunity to do so.  And aside from the slowed mobility, she's right on track.  Everyday, she learns a new word and starts to use it.  Everyday, she'll decide something else is fun and just can't get enough of it.  And she'll laugh and laugh and laugh while doing it, especially if it scares the crap out of us, like her new habit of riding the ends of the couch.  This week, it's coming out with me to feed the dogs.  Down, she'll tell them sternly as I'm getting the food, and then, "stay."   And when finally, they're "ready" she'll look at me, smiling, so proud of her accomplishment.  At her last well-child visit at 18 months, our ped said anywhere from 6-20 words were normal at that age.  I tried to make a list and came up with more than 50.  And I'm guessing that's doubled since then. 

Serving tea -- When you're finished with your cup, she'll ask, "Meore?" and give you more.  Sometimes, she'll drink straight from the kettle.  You know, when she's especially thirsty. 

She wants to do everything on her own, but suddenly, doesn't mind asking for "help."  I gave her coffee once while in India (like a teaspoon of it), and now she's hooked.  "Offee?"  she'll ask if she sees me with a mug.  Or grinding the beans.  Or, the other day, when G walked in with Starbucks.  How the heck does she know, we wonder?  And if she's lucky enough to get a sip, "mmm" she'll say, and then "Meore?"  (more). 

It's crazy to me how much fun this is.  And this is coming from some one who's been up from 5:30 this morning.   And spent the wee hours being jumped on and poked and prodded while the kid  basically made sure everyone in the household was wide awake.  Think of how much more I must love her on a full night of sleep.  But even with all the doctor's visits and hospital stays, our kid's pretty darn good at being a regular kid.  And is just about the smartest, most cheerful, adorable, and perfect thing there is.  

So check out how close her legs are here . . . even a few months ago, she'd have been standing with her legs wide apart like a gymnast.  Clearly we've come a long way.  BTW, we LOVE it when she decides to climb on the couch like this.  Totally awesome, and not at all unsafe.