None of the Above

Baby M is nearly 20 months old and has definite ideas about nearly everything-- how and when to eat, what book to read, which form of transportation to use, what to wear, etc. Every book I've read about toddlers suggests that the key to a happy child is offering him a choice. "Do you want to wear the red bib or the blue bib?" "Shall we take the stroller or walk?" The idea is that by allowing him a choice you give the toddler some control over the situation. He feels empowered and doesn't throw a tantrum. This all sounds good in theory and I've actually seen other moms employ the technique successfully on the playground. Tantrums have been avoided simply by saying, "Oh look, you can play with the green shovel or the fire truck, which do you want?"

Baby M, however, is too smart to fall for this ploy. When I ask him if he would like peas or broccoli he twists around in the high chair and points to the refrigerator shouting "Toast! Toast!" If I say "Let's pick a bib to wear," he wails "Noooo!" He has already learned that just because something isn't displayed doesn't mean it's not available.

It's nice to know that he is going to be an independent thinker and not feel compelled to accept what he is offered. On the other hand, I am really worried about how terrible those terrible twos are going to be. So far Baby M's tantrums have been manageable. We have a few outbursts each day, but the number of kicking and screaming, out-of-control eruptions has been minimal and I'm hoping to keep it that way. Since the whole "choice" strategy isn't working, I'd love to hear other suggestions for avoiding toddler tantrums.

Baby Scientist

Today Baby M was sitting on the floor with some crayons, a pencil and a ball point pen. He was doing a pretty good job of confining his scribbles to the giant pad of paper from Michael's until a particularly energetic scrawl with the pen went careening off the paper and onto Baby M's shin. Baby M stopped and stared at the blue ink on his leg. He rubbed it. He furrowed his brow. Then he picked up the blue crayon and tried to write on his leg. Apparently his hypothesis was that anything blue could write on skin. When the crayon didn't leave a mark on his right leg, he tried writing on his left. Then he picked up the pencil and tried the experiment again. I love watching Baby M learn about his environment. It's really amazing to see the way he figures things out. I mean, really, how do you know that the skin on your right leg is going to act exactly the same as the skin on your left? Then he grabbed the pen again and I could see where his investigation was headed, so I quickly traded him a silver crayon for the pen and averted a potential disaster. I do love watching Baby M learn about the world, but I'm not quite ready for him to be on an episode of LA Ink.

Baby on a Plane

Last week we took a trip to Ann Arbor, Michigan to visit some dear friends and meet their 15 month old, Baby Z. We had a wonderful time; went to the Hands On Museum, hung out at Allmendinger Park, explored the Natural History Museum. We even got to have a night out at the Ark watching Chelsea Williams. When it was time to leave Baby M gave Baby Z a hug and a kiss, stole his cup of Cheerios and we were on our way.

This trip wasn't Baby M's first time on a plane. Nine months ago we took a short flight up the coast to attend my brother's wedding in Northern California. But this was his first long flight and the first flight where I didn't have the option of sticking a boob in his face to calm him down. The flight to Michigan was long, oversold and we ended up sitting for a hour on the tarmac while the crew fixed a mechanical problem. Baby M did well, although the woman in the seat in front of us did not appreciate his fascination with the fold out tray. The flight home was also oversold and Baby M was grouchy from the get go. He was flying as a "lap child" but didn't want to sit with me or my husband. He wanted to crawl around on the floor under the seats, which, as a flight attendant helpfully announced over the intercom, is unsafe. To keep him quiet we plied him with snacks-- everything from my husband's Taco Bell nachos to Annie's Bunny Grahams. About two hours into the 4 and a half hour flight Baby M barfed all over my husband. Thankfully, he missed splashing our row mate and the passengers in the row behind us, but it was still pretty unpleasant for anyone within 15 feet of us.

I must commend my husband's courage as he remained calm and still as Baby M hurled repeatedly onto his chest and shoulder. My husband does not like to be dirty and I was honestly surprised that he did not throw Baby M into my lap at the first sign of spittle. Once the gagging subsided, he took Baby M into the bathroom to get him washed up while I did my best to clean the seat with a receiving blanket and the paper towels and cup of water (with ice!?!) that the flight attendant brought me. Once the seat was as good as it was going to get, I joined the boys in the teeny-tiny airplane lavatory to assess the damage. Baby M, glad to be someplace other than row 15, was in surprisingly good spirits. We got him changed and washed up. My husband's shirt was a lost cause. We shoved it down the lavatory trash chute and I brought him another shirt from his bag. Luckily all of our luggage was carry on (we are efficient packers and too cheap to pay the checked baggage fee). I always carry a spare outfit for Baby M in my diaper bag, but we never would have thought to bring a spare outfit for Daddy. Even with this somewhat sour ending, our trip to Ann Arbor was great and we learned a few tips for our next airplane ride with Baby M (mainly Taco Bell and babies don't mix).

Trash Man

Baby M is obsessed with trash. He said the word "trash" before he said "Mama". He eagerly awaits trash day and with 3 separate trucks coming down our street (garbage, recycling and green waste) our Mondays are very busy with lots of pointing and shouting "truck." He also likes pointing out trash on the ground. Getting across the park can take all day as he gestures at every plastic bottle cap, cigarette but and stray candy wrapper. But what he really loves, at times seems to lives for, is throwing away trash. When we're at home he'll take his used tissue, walk confidently over to the cabinet under the sink, toss it in the trash and then smile at me proudly. When we're out he'll stand in front of the trash can with his arms raised waiting to be lifted up so he can throw away his granola bar wrapper. At Starbucks he loves dropping empty cups into the little round hole in the counter. But apparently the world is not producing enough trash for Baby M so he had decided to take things into his own hands.

Today he pulled all his swim diapers out of the nearly full package and ran into the kitchen with the wrapper shouting "trash! trash!" Yesterday he found a box of gelatin packets in the cupboard, dumped them out and tried to throw the empty box away. I showed Baby M the cute Easter card his uncle sent and it immediately went into the trash, along with some unpaid bills that I had carelessly placed on the coffee table.

Perhaps this janitorial calling is genetic. Baby M's 3 year old, bilingual cousin is also enamored of litter. In a somewhat disturbing Christmas tradition, we open our presents and then wave the wrapping paper in the air shouting "basura, basura" and wait for Baby J to come and collect it in his big black garbage bag. Come to think of it, this last Christmas Baby M helped his cousin carry that bag around so I suppose I should have seen this latest development coming.

The Eyezz Have It

So Baby M finally has a few words under his belt. His first word was (drumroll) ..... "eyes." He'll point to my eyes or his own and whisper "eyezz" and then give me a big grin. We read some Sesame Street books and he is totally obsessed with the Count's monocle. He keeps pointing at it repeating "eyezz, eyezz, eyezz."

He has also mastered "hot." Initially he would point to the heater, my coffee mug or the toaster oven and declare "HOT." But now it has become his go to (and admittedly only) adjective. Jell-O is hot, his rubber duckie is hot, a shovel is hot, it's like living with my own miniature Paris Hilton.

Still no Mama and Daddy is kind of hit or miss, but he's definitely making some progress on the language front. Hooray! Grunting and emphatic pointing is all well and good, but I am really looking forward to Baby M speaking.

Getaway

Now that Baby M is weaned my husband and I decided to celebrate and take our first overnight trip sans baby. Last week we had our house tented for termites (ugh!) and headed up to my in-laws house for 3 nights. On one of those nights my husband and I snuck away to the Ojai Valley Inn and Spa for 24 hours of baby-free recreation.

We left Baby M screaming in his grandpa's arms as we waved goodbye on Saturday afternoon. I hate seeing Baby M cry, but lately he puts on the same show if I leave him to take a shower so I was prepared for a dramatic exit. The drive up the coast was lovely and we arrived at the Inn in a little over an hour. The Ojai Valley Inn and Spa is a beautiful Spanish Colonial resort with gorgeous views of the mountains. I felt more relaxed just minutes after walking through their arches. Our room (the cheapest one at $350 a night) was small, but comfortable with a big 4 poster bed and a view of a courtyard with fruit trees. We took a quick stroll through the complex and then headed into town for a late lunch at Sea Fresh Seafood. I had the Cornmeal Crusted Tilapia, which was good and my husband had a mixed seafood plate which included fish caught that morning from the restaurant's own fishing boat.

After lunch we headed back to the Inn for a nap. Despite the Inn's many amenities -- golf, spa treatments, yoga classes, swimming pools, etc., the thing we were most looking forward to on this mini-vacation was sleep. Uninterrupted, unabashed, drool on the pillow sleep. We woke a few hours later, went for a dip in the salt water jacuzzi and then headed back to town for a late dinner. In hindsight, we should have eaten at one of the Inn's restaurants because there was only one restaurant in town still open after nine, a friendly, but uninspired Italian place. After dinner we returned to the Inn for martini's in the lounge and listened to an affable jazz singer with a crowd of drunk and unruly senior citizens (who were more entertaining than the singer!).

In the morning we rented bicycles from the golf shop and took the bike path into town to the Ojai Cafe Emporium. We read the newspaper on the heated patio over coffee and oatmeal. After a quick dip in the salt water pool we checked out and headed back to my in-law's place. This getaway was just what I needed. When I left for the Inn I was tired, annoyed and just wanted 15 minutes without a baby attached to my leg. By the time we returned home I was refreshed and ready to scoop Baby M into my arms and give him a big kiss.

So there you have the update. Of course, if you follow my husband's Twitter feed, you'd know all this already since he sent updates continuously through our trip-- seriously, he Twittered while we were in the jacuzzi.

Sesame Street

I'm afraid my baby is addicted to Sesame Street. I was all for keeping to the "no TV under 2" recommendation and except for the period when I tried anything and everything to calm his colic, I rarely parked Baby M in front of the television.

Then I caught cold after cold this winter and I started turning on the occasional episode while I recuperated on the couch. I also found that 10 minutes of Sesame Street would sometimes stop the inconsolable crying jags that Baby M often experiences upon waking from a nap. And I admit that both my husband and I have pulled up sesamestreet.org while we surreptitiously check our email in a separate browser. Although Baby M was happy enough to watch, he never seemed obsessed with watching, until now.

Now he wakes at 5:30 am and begins gesturing wildly at the TV set. He rummages through our DVD collection until he finds the Sesame Street Fiesta DVD and then waves it in front of my face. If I hide the Fiesta DVD he pulls out the unopened Baby Einstein videos I received as shower gifts and if I hide those, he brings me Austin Powers in desperation. So I have acquiesced and now allow him thirty minutes of Sesame Street a day. It makes him really happy and I can use those thirty minutes to catch up on email or wash the dishes. But a lot of the time I just sit next to him and watch. We love it when Elmo "asks a baby" --it cracks us up every time.