toddlers

Mi Agua es Su Agua

Posted on by Beth Hull

My Aunt Kathi has a Thing about saliva. Like, she detests it. Or maybe it’s backwash, I’m not sure. (What’s not to love about saliva and backwash?) I probably could have been five years old and dying of thirst, whispering “water” before passing out from dehydration, and she would have held her glass out of my reach, refusing to share. (Hyperbole, people. Aunt Kathi would have given me the water.) A tired and favorite joke of mine is to pretend to drink from her wineglass.

And then I watch as Z takes a huge slurp from the straw of her sippy cup thing, and she puts it down. Particles swirl around like the white flakes in a snow globe. All that, and through a straw?

I realize just how wise and venerable is my Aunt Kathi. I’m not sharing my drinks, either.

The Object of My Fantasies

Posted on by Beth Hull

…or…On the Effects of Sleep Deprivation in Mothers of Toddlers.

I kept getting kicked in the head last night.

She’s really quite strong, my little Z.

And so, instead of a real blog post, I give you a quote from poet Maureen Owen:

…Some mornings it is cleansing
to lean from bed     lift the window     and scream     I HATE CHILDREN
into the lovely green yard.

E Tea

Posted on by Beth Hull

We like to pass our finer points on to our children. Our striking good looks, endless patience, witty sense of humor. Unless you’re me, and have none of those things (okay, I’ve got the good looks and the sense of humor. Yes, I do say so myself). At any rate, if you are like me, you can also pass on both your tendency to hoard things, and the things you hoarded.

See my Photographic Evidence below.

Photographic Evidence A

This is my E.T. Tea Set, circa 1982. Utterly fabulous. I had to battle TWO black widows to rescue it from the clutches of my doll closet. The doll closet is a whole other picture, but I’m not about to venture out to the Love Shack (garage/guest room) at night to take a photo.

Photographic Evidence B

Here we have the companion to my tea set, a Read-Along Book & Record set. Not pictured are my “Gingerbread Man” and “Walt Disney’s Peter Pan” Book & Record sets.

Sadly, the records have disappeared. Not that I would know what to do with them if I had them. Z might use them for serving platters for her tea parties.

Photographic Evidence C

See the treasures I have unearthed! It’s The Cabbage Patch Kids! What joy!

Photographic Evidence...What Letter Am I On?

Vintage souvenir t-shirt from Great America (now Six Flags or something completely different. I’m hoping I never have to keep track).

Photographic Evidence Too Much

Is there no end to the wealth of wonders? This flowered cat is companion to…I kid you not…a flowered camel. Don’t ask me why.

I’m SOOOO glad I saved them though!

Photographic Evidence The End (Finally)

There are scores more books where these came from. [Hey look, it’s the Peter Pan book!] Her current favorite books include “Bedtime for Frances” (mine), “E.T. Read-Along” (mine), and “Peter Pan Read-Along” (also mine).

All of this, and more. As my parents will tell you, since they hauled it all to our garage as soon as we bought our house.

And these are just the things I found lying around. I didn’t have to search for them. There’s also the unicorn shirt which I desperately wanted a photo of, but Z happens to be sleeping in it right now. It screams 1980s.

If I can’t give my daughter good looks (like I need to; she’s beautiful on her own) or any of my other desirable qualities, at least I can give her lots of cool junk.

Indeed

Posted on by Beth Hull

It makes sense not to swear around your toddler. She picks things up. She mimics you. She said “geez kid” the other day after you said, “Geez, kid, stop climbing into the bathtub.” She learns words you don’t even teach her. Like “farmer’s market,” and “soy sauce,” and the lines to “Scarborough Fair.”

It’s eerie, is what it is.

She shouts, “See you guys!” when friends leave. What the heck happened to “bye-bye”? And her latest copycat-ism: “Indeed.”

You didn’t even know you were saying it, did you? Who says, “Indeed” anymore? But it  must be you. You’d notice if Husband was saying it. So you ask her if she’d like more milk. “Yes, indeed,” she says. How about some goldfish crackers? you ask. “Goldfish…crackers…indeed,” she says, weighing each word carefully, as if they were vowels on Wheel of Fortune. Did we see a dog yesterday? you ask. “Dog indeed.”

Where is my child? you want to ask. Why are you running around sounding like you swallowed a book of Jane Austen fan fiction? Come back, little Z! Come back!

You’ve been paying attention to what you say now, searching for that “indeed.” The one that jumped out of your mouth and created an indeeding indeeder. Haven’t found one yet.

Puzzling indeed.

Oh, because I’ve been watching it over and over again (Z is obsessed with the Sienna family now), here’s a link to the Swagger Wagon music video from Toyota. I don’t drive a Toyota, nor do I have any immediate plans to go out and buy a minivan, but this is hilarious.

Come back Friday for my second, very-cool, very nifty author interview, featuring local author and poet Josh Fernandez!

Sunny Shines

Posted on by Beth Hull

I’ve been trying to read The Happiest Toddler on the Block (Harvey Karp) because I want to have the happiest toddler on the block.

As Husband says when he’s being especially infuriating: “It’s nice to want things, isn’t it?”

Z’s a very happy little kid, truly. She is also prone to fits and tantrums, and demonstrates an alarming capacity for drama (if one single person who knows me makes a “like-mother-like-daughter” comment they will never receive a Christmas, birthday, or Valentine’s Day card from me again. That means you, Mom). I don’t think Z is atypical of toddlers in these respects. It must be very difficult to be three feet tall and not able to run to the store for a pint of Ben & Jerry’s whenever life gives you a smackdown. Instead, your mean mom doesn’t even let you have ice cream (more for her, she reasons), and she’s even put restrictions on the goldfish crackers. Then your dad jumps in saying, “It’s nice to want things, isn’t it?”

Because life is rough for a two-year-old, I’m making an effort to be a better mom. That includes trying out some of the ideas in Karp’s book. What usually happens, though, is I try something which doesn’t work, and then I come up with something that works better for Z. Example: he recommends “hand checks” as rewards, which is just like it sounds–taking a pen and putting an ink check on your kid’s hand. Well, Z freaks out if you come at her with anything pointy, especially if it’s going to leave a mark. Hand checks? Not such a good idea for her. Before I figured that out, I started drawing on my own hand to show her it was okay. The middle-schooler in me (who is really just below my 29-year-old surface) jumped out, and next thing I knew I had this:

Pretty cool, huh?

Okay, fine, maybe not cool to anyone old enough to read, but Z thought her new friend was awesome. She named her Sunny, and we had such a great time with Sunny that I considered getting a Sunny tattoo.

Sunny talked Z into trying broccoli again, she convinced Z that diaper changes are fun, and she generally gained Z’s cooperation in so many areas that I started to feel a little jealous of Sunny. I mean, who is this imposter, anyway? Z will run down our driveway towards the street while I shout fearfully for her to stop, but she’d probably be potty trained in a second of Sunny suggested it. (In fact, watch Sunny come back today so I can give that a shot.)

The thing is, little kids need heroes, and for the longest time, I was Z’s hero. Nobody else. After all, for Z’s first year I had the mama’s milk and nobody else did. Stupid Sunny never had mama’s milk. It’s all part of growing up, I suppose, my daughter adopting other people and characters as her heroes. If I’m already having trouble with her adopting a character invented from my own hand, I can tell this is going to be hard for me.

Maybe I have some growing up to do as well.