Random stuff

The Halloween season is here and I just recently dug myself out from under a huge pile of work. Apologies for the relative silence these past couple of weeks, but bathroom renovations + deadlines + travel + motherhood = 32-hour days. Physics and the time-space continuum being what they are, something had to give.

Halloween. DOM has learned the joy of Halloween. Our conversation earlier this week:

Me: "What are we going to do on Halloween?"
DOM: "Trick or treating!"
Me: "What do you say when you knock on someone's door?"
DOM: "Trick or treat!"
Me: "And then what happens?"
DOM: "I GET CANDY!!!"
Me: "And THEN what do you say?"
DOM: "Thank you!"

For DOM, life is divided into times when she gets candy, and regular boring days.

Preschool. DOM's day care is transitioning her into their beginning preschool class. It has more of a curriculum than the toddler class she has been in, with more of an emphasis on words and numbers. Now, her transition from infant to toddler room was traumatic for the whole family - tears, hysterics when we would drop her off in the toddler room, clinginess - and that was just me. She was pretty bad for a two week period, too. But from the first day of transition to preschool, she has not wanted to go back to the toddler room at all. As a matter of fact, they dispensed with the transition process and just had us start dropping her off and picking her up in the preschool room. I have my theories as to why this happens, but it doesn't really matter - it ain't broke, so I ain't fixin' it.

Halloween, part II. The thought did occur to me that this is the last time I will be able to pick out her Halloween costume for her. Next year, she will insist on being a princess/ballerina/Disney character/specific animal/dragon...whatever. So did I dress her up in the cutest costume I could find? Nope. I bought a costume that was warm, easy to put on and take off, and cost $6 on eBay. Best. Halloween. Ever.

The end is near. There is joy in Whoville, as DOM is almost potty trained. Just a few more weeks, and we may be able to bid farewell to the changing pad forever. Or she will be entering kindergarten in pull ups.

A random observation. Courtesy of Mr. MOM. While watching 123 Sesame Street on Noggin on the weekends, we notice that there seem to be only about 5 episodes of Elmo's World in their rotation: singing, drawing, plants, dancing, and hair. I KNOW there are a lot more than that...c'mon Noggin - we're getting bored!

Speaking of Sesame Street... Here is my all-time favorite Sesame Street exchange (courtesy of SesameBeat.com):

Alan: "I have some rice cakes."
Cookie: "What me look like, rice cake monster? No, me Cookie Monster. Me need cookie!"

Toodle-oo! Happy Halloween and Dia de los Muertos, y'all!

Slap happy

Vicky Iovine starts off the first chapter of The Girlfriend's Guide to Toddlers with perhaps the most accurate statement about child rearing I've ever heard: "Mother Nature really is so damned smart to give you your child in infant form first. There might not have been quite so many takers if she were handing out toddlers."

Tonight I was treated to one of those moments when you step back and really question your desire to let the child live to see her third birthday. When I started thinking just how much money we would save on Christmas and birthday presents in the coming year. When I wondered what it would be like to return to a house that wasn't scattered with toys like a juvenile obstacle course. Tonight I was rewarded for all my caring and meals and gentle but firm discipline...with a slap in the face.

It figures that stuff like this would happen when Mr. MOM is out for the evening. There we were, having a great evening of playing, working on her wooden puzzles. Bedtime was fast approaching, so as she pulled out yet another puzzle, I told her that it was the last one and then we would start getting ready for bed when we were done with it. About halfway through, she lost interest and started to reach for her toy telephone. I said "no, it's time to get ready for bed," and moved it away to a place where she couldn't reach it. She tried to get it, but I kept telling her that playtime was up and it was time to get ready for bed, and that was when she hauled off and slapped me, full force, across the cheek.

You know those moments when a situation turns 180 degrees? When you can actually hear a click in your head signaling the change? That was one of those moments. I didn't hit back...that would be the wrong message to send ("how many...smack...times have I told you...smack...that it's not nice...smack....to hit someone?"). But through words alone, she got the message that this was unacceptable behavior and that she was in deep doo doo. And we're not talking about her diaper here.

Let's just hope this lesson sticks with her. Because the last thing on earth I would like to do is to raise a mini Zsa Zsa Gabor.