Who's scared of the big bad mommy?
Those of you who know me very well know that I'm scared of many things: the dark, driving on freeways, talking to people, etc, etc...so of course it's not surprising that Ava is quite sensitive. It's funny when I discover some new thing that Ava is frightened of. There have been a couple of times when a pesky fly gets into our house. I couldn't rest until I had exterminated the flies on each occasion. When I roll up any magazine I get my hands on and start swatting against which ever glass surface the fly lands on, Ava would scream hysterically. I must look very frightening with a rolled up magazine. I say, "bring it on, flies!"
Ava likes to bust a move
While Ava nurses, she starts moving around like she is about to start breakdancing. She gets her legs up in the air like she is going to start spinning. Very impressive acrobatics. I think she is getting close to spinning on her head, even if she isn't walking yet. She even attempts to stand up. I think pretty soon I'll be getting a membership card to the Freaky Toddler Nursing Club. Don't worry, I won't turn into that eccentric and aberrant British lady who is still breastfeeding her eight year old. Sometimes I have a love-hate relationship with the whole nursing thing. I only hate it at night. Maybe her nightwakings are inextricably linked with nursing, but I feel that she needs to nurse since she has that milk allergy. Hooray for mammaries!
First dentist appointment
Ava bumped her mouth on her wagon and her mouth was bleeding, so I figured it was time to take her to the dentist to make sure no damage was done. Plus one of her top teeth was looking a little suspect, so it was time to have a professional take a look. We went to a brand new pediatric dentistry practice. Ava was the only patient there and was the star of the show. I laid her on my lap with her head in the dentist's lap. Ava screamed while the dentist took a look and Ava tried to clamp her mouth shut. Everything looked fine! Ava got her first toothbrush (with Tigger on it) and strawberry toothpaste. She has officially graduated from using a wash cloth as a toothbrush to the real thing. She's only got six teeth (four on top and two on the bottom) but these teeth are lethal. Ava comes up to me when I'm minding my own business and bites into my arm, my stomach, my leg, or whatever she can get her chompers on. What can I do but yell in pain? She always looks at me blankly or laughs at me when I say "No biting!"
Tricks of the trade (of being cute)
A toddler is akin to a puppy. You work on teaching or training them to do new tricks. Ava has a few tricks in her repertoire. She can point to many of her body parts. My favorite is when she pats her diaper when I ask her where her bum is. I also love it when she wiggles her toes when I ask her where her toes are. Ava can clap her hands on command, in particular to certain songs. She says "mmmmmwwwwahhhh" and puts her hand to the mouth when I tell her to blow kisses. This month she has just blossomed and is learning new things everyday. She isn't saying too many words yet, but she points to balls and says "Ball". She also says "babu" for "bubble ". I tried to teach her how to massage my legs and feet for my own selfish purposes but we're not quite there yet...
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Mommy Mess-Ups
Hazardous french fry
Everyone talks about this instinct that mothers have. I'm not sure if I have one, or if I do, it's in its infant stages and seriously smothered by all the frivolous thoughts running around in my head. Or maybe we should just call this mommy instinct "common sense". An example of my lack of motherly instinct would have to be when I handed Ava a piping hot french fry at a restaurant. I had a feeling that even though the outside of the french fry was at a moderate temperature, the inside was probably too hot. Yet I still handed it to her. What is wrong with me? I think I was so anxious for her to consume some high caloric food. Of course she screamed "BLAH!" at the top of her lungs when she put it in her mouth and everyone in the restaurant turned and looked at us while Ava rubbed her poor mouth.
Get some gates already!
I was feeling particularly miserable one night because of my non-stop snot flowage, so as I was climbing on the kitchen counter to get to the medicine cabinet (I think I should invest in a stool before I kill myself climbing countertops), I heard a really loud thump and wailing. I ran over to wherever Ava was...and she was lying face down on the stairwell. I have no idea how many steps she had fallen, but I mean, it was a thunderous thump! I comforted her and she calmed down when she started nursing. I put her to bed and called the pediatrician's number and a nurse answered for any afterhours questions. I explained the situation and the nurse instructed me to shine a flashlight into each of Ava's eyes in the dark to see if the pupils constrict. This was one of the things on the checklist to check for brain injury. As I desperately tried to shine a flashlight into Ava's eyes while she was sleeping, she woke up and was furious and kept batting the flashlight away. I had to call David to finish the job. He was at a friend's house for a much needed session of "manversation" or "man-time" and violent movies. Once he rushed home he was able to confirm that both pupils constricted and that nothing seemed wrong with little Ava.
Sleepless Nights
I categorize David and I not getting decent sleep to something that I've done wrong along the way. Everything some sleep experts say not to do has been done by yours truly. I'm sure bringing a baby into the bed to nurse in the middle of the night isn't against the rules in some peoples' book. But all I know is, something isn't working right with Ava's sleeping habits. She's addicted to nursing at night and sometimes insists on it 3-4 times a night. It's like I'm dealing with a newborn...but a very sassy one at that. One that can throw herself backwards in protest if you don't feed her pronto. Sometimes she bumps her head on the headboard while thrashing around on the bed, thus escalating her wrath. So, I'm starting to get desperate...but not quite desperate enough to do the cry it out thing. Well, I sort of let her cry when I bring her into our room on the nights when I don't feel like being her pacifier. I try to comfort her and pat her back and not nurse her. All the while she is screaming and David leaves to go sleep in another room while Ava and I battle it out. She usually wins...Something that David and I say a lot is "with our next one, we're going to do things differently."
Everyone talks about this instinct that mothers have. I'm not sure if I have one, or if I do, it's in its infant stages and seriously smothered by all the frivolous thoughts running around in my head. Or maybe we should just call this mommy instinct "common sense". An example of my lack of motherly instinct would have to be when I handed Ava a piping hot french fry at a restaurant. I had a feeling that even though the outside of the french fry was at a moderate temperature, the inside was probably too hot. Yet I still handed it to her. What is wrong with me? I think I was so anxious for her to consume some high caloric food. Of course she screamed "BLAH!" at the top of her lungs when she put it in her mouth and everyone in the restaurant turned and looked at us while Ava rubbed her poor mouth.
Get some gates already!
I was feeling particularly miserable one night because of my non-stop snot flowage, so as I was climbing on the kitchen counter to get to the medicine cabinet (I think I should invest in a stool before I kill myself climbing countertops), I heard a really loud thump and wailing. I ran over to wherever Ava was...and she was lying face down on the stairwell. I have no idea how many steps she had fallen, but I mean, it was a thunderous thump! I comforted her and she calmed down when she started nursing. I put her to bed and called the pediatrician's number and a nurse answered for any afterhours questions. I explained the situation and the nurse instructed me to shine a flashlight into each of Ava's eyes in the dark to see if the pupils constrict. This was one of the things on the checklist to check for brain injury. As I desperately tried to shine a flashlight into Ava's eyes while she was sleeping, she woke up and was furious and kept batting the flashlight away. I had to call David to finish the job. He was at a friend's house for a much needed session of "manversation" or "man-time" and violent movies. Once he rushed home he was able to confirm that both pupils constricted and that nothing seemed wrong with little Ava.
Sleepless Nights
I categorize David and I not getting decent sleep to something that I've done wrong along the way. Everything some sleep experts say not to do has been done by yours truly. I'm sure bringing a baby into the bed to nurse in the middle of the night isn't against the rules in some peoples' book. But all I know is, something isn't working right with Ava's sleeping habits. She's addicted to nursing at night and sometimes insists on it 3-4 times a night. It's like I'm dealing with a newborn...but a very sassy one at that. One that can throw herself backwards in protest if you don't feed her pronto. Sometimes she bumps her head on the headboard while thrashing around on the bed, thus escalating her wrath. So, I'm starting to get desperate...but not quite desperate enough to do the cry it out thing. Well, I sort of let her cry when I bring her into our room on the nights when I don't feel like being her pacifier. I try to comfort her and pat her back and not nurse her. All the while she is screaming and David leaves to go sleep in another room while Ava and I battle it out. She usually wins...Something that David and I say a lot is "with our next one, we're going to do things differently."
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