Parenting Toddlers

All right, who’s ready for separation anxiety?

… Anybody?

Too bad, you’re getting it anyway. At least, your kid is. It’s what kids do, especially little ones. And it’s a huge pain in the butt.

So what can you do about it? Lots of things, actually. Toddler separation anxiety is fairly simple to do with — at least, the actions are easy to perform. It does take time, patience, and consistency. It also takes a whole lot of not losing your temper, which is quite difficult. Here are a few things to start you off:

Prepare your kid for the separation. Start letting him know before you have to be separated that you will be separated, that there’s a reason for it, and that you’ll be reunited. Also let him know what he’ll be doing while you’re apart and what you’ll be doing during that time frame as well. “Tomorrow, Mommy’s going to go to a long meeting at work — she’ll be sitting in her office all day, and you get to spend the whole day with Grandpa!” How soon you should do this varies by how long you’re going to be separated — if you’re only going to the supermarket, you can probably let your little one in on it an hour beforehand; if you’re going on a week-long vacation, you should start preparing him about a week in advance.

Make sure your child knows you’ll be back. Make it a point to tell your toddler what you’re going to do and approximately when you’ll be back. “I have to go to the store now, but I’ll be back in just a little while.” You don’t have to get granular with exact time frames — a toddler doesn’t know the difference between “ten minutes” and “two hours.” Your toddler will understand that “Mommy will be back,” though, and it helps to have a specific point of reference in which to imagine you. It’s easier for a kid to think of Mommy at the market or at Grandma’s house than it is to try to imagine what Mommy might be doing, and it cuts a lot of anxiety. This way, Mommy isn’t wandering off into the void in your child’s imagination.

Practice those time frames. Your toddler isn’t going to understand “ten minutes” for a few years yet, but keep using reference phrases like “in a little while” and “tomorrow” even when you’re not leaving. Tell your child that dinner will be “later,” that bedtime is “in a few minutes,” or that you’ll go to the park “in the morning.” This will help her to start forming standards for these concepts; she’ll start getting the feel of what you mean by “a little while” or “sometime.” For big separations, like the aforementioned week’s vacation, try to find a way to make the length of the separation seem less daunting without misleading your child about it. Don’t tell her you’ll “be right back” when you’re headed for the airport; this may save immediate tears, but will make her more insecure about your absence in the long run, because she’ll feel that she can’t trust what you tell her. Try something like, “Mommy’s going to be gone for a while and it will feel like a very long time, but I promise I will be back in a few days.”

Make (a little) separation habitual. Attachment parents are going to howl over this one, but I think it’s good advice: Start getting your toddler used to the idea of spending time away from you by setting up daily “alone time.” Let him play in his room with the door shut for an hour, or — if you can afford it — hire a sitter for a couple of afternoons per week. Use your separation techniques for these periods just like you would for real separations; tell your child what you’ll be doing, what he’ll be doing, and when you’ll be back. Introducing the idea that “Mommy is closing your door now, but I will open it again in just a little bit” and then doing so, consistently, will make your kiddo feel more secure with other separations.

Teach your child how to soothe herself. Let her use what she needs to get her through the separations, whether it’s a special blanket or a picture of you. Teach her that these special objects can help keep her company and help her remember where you are. “When you look at your blanky, remember that Mommy’s going to be sleeping under a very fluffy blanket in the hotel and missing you very much!” Encourage her to attach stories or memories to these objects, and consider keeping a couple of things that are specifically for separations. Teach her songs or short poems she can hum or recite to herself when she gets lonely, and make sure that her caretaker while you’re away will participate in reassuring discussions of what you might be doing or when you’ll be back.

Give him free rein. When you return from a separation, give your kid a little uninterrupted, uninhibited time with you. Don’t immediately plop him in front of the TV or put him in his room; even if you have other things to do, your toddler needs to fill you in on what happened while you were gone and reassure himself that you didn’t forget about him. Let him know that at the end of a separation, you’re still his Mommy (or Daddy, or grandparent…), and you’ll always have time for him.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten things, here. How do you guys deal with this issue? I’ll try the top-five thing again; send me your solutions to this problem and I’ll post the top five in a coming entry.

It’s been busy around here, y’all. I’m sorry about the lack of updates.

I’ve noticed that I get a lot of hits from people who are looking for information about toddler separation anxiety. (Well, that and “naked” — what gives?) I’ll return tomorrow with a post about that, then, shall I? Yes, I shall.

I don’t think it could be more cliché or obvious that parenting changes a person. I do think, though, that the nature of those changes — and the way you look at them — changes over the course of parenthood. Pregnancy is about wondering what you’ll be like with a child, how your life might be altered, what you’ll do and think. Infancy is about everything being different, a lot of things being hard, all of the changes coming fast and furious. Toddlerhood is about noticing what changes became permanent, how you’re really a different person — and the changes that, thank goodness, were only temporary.

When your child becomes a toddler, things get a bit easier. Some of the things that change during pregnancy and infancy end up reverting to their normal states. The anxiety and exhaustion and fear that can overwhelm a parent during a baby’s first year subside. Things get easier. It gives you a little space to notice what’s become concrete, to figure out what is truly different and what was only situational.

I’ve found that I am really the queen of five-minute showers. Before having Connor, I could stay under the spray forever — lathering up, letting my face wash soak in, sniffing my body wash, letting my muscles relax under the hot water. When Connor was very small, I had to alter this routine; I had to get clean as fast as possible and get the hell out of the bathroom. I’d often skip washing my hair for a week at a time, because it simply took too much time; washing, conditioning, drying, and styling my hair took much longer than just soaping down my body and rinsing off. I always thought I’d go back to those long, sweet-smelling showers once Connor was big enough to cope without Mommy for longer than ten minutes.

I was wrong. It’s just habit now. I still like good-smelling bath products, but I can’t seem to get back into the swing of luxuriating in them. I wash my hair, put in some conditioner, wash my face, rinse my head, lather up my body, rinse, and I’m done. Five minutes. Maybe ten minutes. I can’t seem to remember what else to do. Sure, I could stand under the water and enjoy the warmth, but… I get bored. I have to get out because Connor’s bored. The cats need to be fed. I should really get Connor’s lunch ready. I don’t really know what the issue is, here — Connor’s perfectly content to play in his room for half an hour or so. I just can’t do the long shower anymore.

I never used to be a big coffee drinker. I’ve always loved coffee, but ulcers and laziness and my own inborn jitters kept me from drinking it very often. I can’t drink coffee in the mornings; I usually wake up with a burning stomach and some high-quality shakiness, and coffee would only make these things worse. In the afternoons, I’d usually find some excuse not to make coffee — it’s too hot in the middle of the day, or I don’t feel like washing out the pot afterward. When I drank coffee before Connor, it was usually in the evening and usually on a special occasion. At a restaurant with great coffee? Cool, I’ll take a cup. Now, though, I find that I need a large cup or two in the middle of the day. I hit a slump around noon every day, a slump composed of Connor’s early wake-up time, my own hectic schedule, and my radically altered sleep schedule. Daily coffee: Just one of parenthood’s less-advertised side effects!

Speaking of that radically altered sleep schedule… I know, guys. I know that you think once your child sleeps through the night, you will too. I know you console yourselves with the thought that once your baby becomes a toddler, sweet slumber will be yours for the taking. Guess what, though? No. You will never sleep the same way again. You will become so used to popping out of bed every two hours, listening for your child’s cries in your sleep, and fighting off poorly timed dozes that you may never sleep deeply again. You will find yourself wide awake at 7:00 every morning even if your child sleeps until 9:00. Even if you stayed up until 3:00 the night before. Even if you take sleeping pills. You will wake up every time a car drives by, every time the cat starts purring, every time your partner snores or rolls over. Maybe when your kid is old enough for school you’ll sleep like a normal person again. Maybe when your kid goes off to college, you’ll manage more than one REM cycle per week. You know what, though? I wouldn’t bet on it.

You will hate yourself for this, just a little bit. Be prepared to envy your child’s limp-bodied, open-mouthed naps.

I am, sadly, still prone to busting out the f-bomb when something goes awry. I thought that being a parent would help me curb my tendency to be foulmouthed, but this hasn’t happen. I try to watch it around Connor, but it seems that the more I try to be aware of my language the more likely I am to say something truly heinous. If you knew how many times I’ve said, “Oh, you motherfuc — um — mama frog,” you would be truly ashamed of me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want Connor to be one of those kids who busts out the cussing at Thanksgiving dinner, but just yesterday he dropped his toy car and said, “Oh… CRAPPO.” Please, somebody, revoke my license to write this silly thing.

Really, guys? No suggestions for grumpy-toddler discipline? Okay, then, if that’s how you want it.

So, the book post. A few days ago, Marina asked in my LiveJournal if I had any recommendations for parenting books. As it happens, I do, and I’m feeling very generous this evening. (After all, I’m finished with one of my classes. Woo!)

I really, really like the What to Expect series of books. They present parenting information in an easy-to-use format and are fairly comprehensive. The books go through the stages of childrearing from pregnancy to preschool, with a separate volume for each major change in your child’s status. Each book is broken down into chapters according to specific developmental stages: What to Expect When You’re Expecting covers pregnancy on a month-by-month basis, as does What to Expect the First Year; What to Expect the Toddler Years breaks away from the month-by-month format and instead goes by developmental milestones, so that the book is divided into two- to four-month chapters. All of the books begin with a general overview chapter detailing what you can expect on the whole for that time frame, and they end with catalogs and indices of common ailments, questions, products, and — bonus — recipes! You do have beware of catastrophizing with these books, though; it’s easy to get caught up in the lists of Things That Can Go Wrong and What To Do When Your Child Severs A Limb.

When I was pregnant, my friend Anne sent me Making Babies by Anne Enright. I loved this book — it’s a humorous, common-sense memoir of pregnancy and raising small children. The author is Irish, and brings that culture into her story in some really amusing ways, like comparing the Catholic church to motherhood. It’s a great read for Americans, especially, for these glimpses of motherhood across country boundaries. Making Babies is still one of my favorite books.

Little Earthquakes by Jennifer Weiner came out when I was in my fifth or sixth month of pregnancy — I loved it then, but I find it a bit tedious now. The book is pretty funny when you’re pregnant or dealing with a very new baby, but it doesn’t offer anything in the way of toddler experiences, and it doesn’t really contain what I’d call useful information. Of course, it’s not supposed to contain useful information, really. It’s a novel. It’s still most enjoyable when you are pregnant or dealing with a newborn, though.

The Mother of All Toddler Books by Ann Douglas is an all right toddler books. It covers a wide range of topics — from potty training to sleep to feeding — but leaves you with the feeling that the author has an agenda. What that agenda might be, I have no idea; it just has that feeling. This book also has a disturbing tendency to make me feel that I am doing absolutely everything wrong, although that may just be my own drama. Still, I’d recommend it for the sheer volume of information it contains, and also to get an idea of different parenting methods than those espoused in What to Expect.

And finally, I know I’ve said this before, but seriously: Go get a copy of Dr. Richard Ferber’s Solve Your Child’s Sleep Problems. If after reading it you decide you simply cannot use the program, that’s fine — but at least read up on it, get familiar with the principles and the system, and consider using it. It works, people. It really, really works.

What do you do when your toddler has the mean crankies? I’m not talking tantrums, here. I’m not asking about an attack of the Sleepy Monster, either. I’m talking about days on end of defiance, yelling, sarcasm, and contrariness. I’m asking for your responses to a toddler who yells in your face, “I NOOOOOTTTTTT!” when you ask him for the sixth time if he’s hungry. I’m asking what you do when your precious angel suddenly starts shrieking, “DON’T TOUCH ME!” when you try to change his diaper. I’m talking constant frowny face, full-on rebellion at bedtime, and generalized grumping.

What do you do? Time-outs have always worked well for Connor, but a lot of this stuff isn’t technically rule-breaking. Asking him, telling him, and ordering him to “be nice” doesn’t seem to work well, either — he’s a little young for the concept of what’s nice and what’s not. I can’t figure out if he’s mad about something, if he’s not feeling well, or if he’s just two. He ignores me (see above, re: asking six times if he’s hungry). He yells at me. He’s sarcastic. (”There’s a kitty outside!” “I know, there are lots of kitties outside!” “I NOT SAY LOTS. I SAY ONE KITTY, MOMMY!”) He’s uncooperative at meal times, at changing time, at bath time, at dressing time… And all of this has been going on for three straight days. I am at wit’s end.

So what do you do? I’ll be posting the top five answers tomorrow, along with that much-delayed toddler book post. I’m really sorry I haven’t gotten to it yet; Harry Potter, a cranky kid, and summer activities sort of ate up my last few days. I promise, we’re back on schedule now.

Why. Can’t I claim. This silly blog. On Technorati?

I guess I’ll try it this way:

Technorati Profile

Bah.

Last night I hit a bit of a low spot. I hadn’t seen Connor in almost two days, because of my class schedule and the fleas (which are, I think, finally under control) and my husband’s silly work schedule and, uh, summer. Also the availability, willingness, and grace of his grandparents. I missed him quite a bit, and I was out of cigarettes, so I spent the night storming about vacuuming things and washing other things, determined to get the fleas under control and the kitchen tidy and OH MY GOD, MICHAEL, COULD YOU JUST MAYBE SHAPE UP AND STOP WASTING MY TIME WITH YOUR ATTEMPTS TO “RELAX” AND “REST”?

He’s home now. Cigarettes were procured (and not smoked anywhere near my son, in case you were about to email me). We cuddled on the couch and played chase through the house and watched some cartoons. All is right with the world.

In fact, all is so right in our world that Connor just put himself down for a nap. He very politely asked for some apple juice, then shuffled off to his room. He was very, very quiet for a minute or two, so I went in to peek at him and found him fluffing his favorite pillow and arranging his blanket. He got everything arranged the way he likes it, then very politely said, “Night night, Mommy,” and shut the door in my face.

I think the year and a half of sleep guidance we did has now paid off in spades. (And yes, I said “sleep guidance,” because “sleep training” makes me think we spent 18 months standing over his crib with a rolled-up newspaper.)

This evening there will be a post about parenting books, because the lovely Marina requested it. I think it’s a great idea, and only wish more of you would start sending me post requests. Come on, guys! You have a voice! Use your power!

Do you know what time it is, kids? It’s 1:40 in the morning. I’m updating because my son is staying the night with his grandparents again, and I miss him. Late hours tend to do that to you, when you’re raising a small child — after the fun goes down, before the sun comes up, you miss your kid. You miss your kid when he’s asleep in the next room, and of course you miss your kid when he’s asleep across town.

Connor’s staying with his grandparents again because of the fleas. He started getting bites, and I completely could not cope. We’ve been trying so hard to get this under control — I mean, yeah, okay, it’s New Mexico in the summer, but still. His grandparents love having him over, and I really need all this spare time to clean like mad and desperately try every insecticide known to man. I don’t like it, though. I hate spending this much time away from him.

It’s little things that spark the missing. I’m not sitting here all awkward and teary, thinking about how the absence of his snores really makes the house feel hollow. I am thinking about the time we spent at the park today, though.

You see, Connor loves the park. Last summer he was barely over a year old, and the park just sort of confused him. The year before that he was a tiny little scrap of a baby, and sometimes I couldn’t even make it to the bathroom for three minutes, let alone the park. This year he’s officially a Big Boy. He’s ready for outings and activities and lots of fun. So, park. It’s still a novelty to him, I think — he’ll still hang back and hold on to my leg or hide behind Michael if there are too many other kids around. He absolutely loves having all that space to run, though. He also loves seeing the birds and trees, and of course he likes the play equipment.

Today was really nifty. It was the first time that Michael and I both went to the park with him, and it was interesting to watch him mix those dynamics. Usually when he goes to the park with Michael he plays I’m The Boss. Daddy, stand over here. Daddy, look over there. Daddy, move this. Daddy, run faster. When he goes to the park with me, he uses me as a supportive base from which to explore. Okay, Mom, you sit right here while I try out the slide. I’ll be back when I get tired.

He invented a new game for himself today, I think. He played movie director. He was very specific about where I had to sit — directly atop this little tunnel-slide thing — and what I had to do. (Sit still, Mommy. Don’t put leg there, Mommy! No go that way, please!) He was more lenient with Michael than he usually is in new situations. (Daddy, play. Okay, good job, I give you prize.) I could almost see the way his brain was working, trying to figure out how to create a new dynamic that incorporated both parents within his park framework. He told us how to speak to each other, and kept a little personal confidentiality between us. He’d whisper in our ears, “Mommy, ask Daddy to push a swing. Daddy, move Mommy’s shoes.” He was very busy with roving around the play equipment, trying to figure out where both of us would fit.

I love seeing that. I am really, really proud that my son is so assertive. He’s so very confident that if he asks us to do something, we will do it — it’s great. He’s never rude or bossy; he’s just working with the vocabulary and social ideation that he’s got at two. There’s always this tone to his voice, like — okay, Mom, you need to go stand over there and touch the leaves, but you will totally love it if you just trust me. It’s almost like he’s looking out for us. He’s trying to maximize everyone’s enjoyment, he’s trying to get us all on the same page. It’s just unbelievably fascinating to see him trying to figure out what page we should be on.

Seeing that in my son… It’s one of the finer moments of parenting. My son cares about and pays attention to other people. My son is not afraid to ask for what he wants. My son is great at rewriting the scene, using his silly and beautiful two-year-old will to direct people into a better reality. My son can take a new situation and turn it to gold. My son is never mean; when I winced as I was trying to climb on top of the tunnel-slide, he gave me a very concerned look and asked, “Mommy hurt?” He suggested that Daddy could help me, because I “can’t reach” the top of that slide. My son knows what he’s doing, y’all.

He’s turning from a baby into a real kid. Furthermore, he’s turning into a person I miss late at night and a person I really look forward to seeing every morning. This is how we become parents, folks. It happens when our children become sturdy little people. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

Guess what? I’m low on ideas and time this morning, so that means y’all get a list. Woohoo! Yeah!

I’m going to put up a list of super-general recommendations for new moms. Most of this will be stuff that worked for me with Connor; a couple of things are ideas or products I’ve never tried, but have seen work for other parents. Some of it will probably move you to disagree. Strongly disagree. That’s fine! However, comments like the following will be deleted post-hasty: “omg ur like suuuuccchhh a idiut! BABBYS ARENT SUPOSE TO CRY YOU HARTLES BITCH!!!!!!!!~”

So, here we go. General recommendations for parents of toddlers. (Well, or infants. Happy toddlers start with happy babies, after all!)

Diapers. Look, y’all. I know — I really do — that cheap diapers serve the same ultimate purpose as Huggies. I know that parenting automatically puts you on a budget (unless you’re Nicole Richie, in which case you can afford heroin and a baby). I know that the little animals go through about ninety billion diapers per minute, and it’s really one of the biggest parenting expenses you will encounter in the first two years. I have to say this, though: Buy yourself some damn Huggies. Spend the extra five bucks, sell off your eggs, do whatever is necessary. You will be happier, because leaks will almost stop happening. Your child will be happier, because the fiberglass insulation and hair gel used to make cheap diapers will no longer be irritating his most delicate skin. If you’ve always used Luvs or whatever, switch to Huggies for a week. I promise, you’ll see a difference.

Bath time. That Johnson Lavender Soothing Wash? It will not get your baby to sleep. If it really did get your baby to sleep, it would cost much more than $4.00. That said, it does smell really nice, and a nice end-of-day bath will almost always help your kid relax. Especially once he or she officially becomes a toddler. Walking is the beginning of the end, folks; it takes the nightly bath from a happy ritual to an absolute necessity, unless you want your kid going to bed with dirt ground in to his knees and apple juice in his hair. If you don’t like the scent of lavender or don’t want to spend a squillion dollars on a tiny bottle of baby wash, Gerber markets an oatmeal baby wash under its Grins & Giggles line. It’s great — no silly, fake-nostalgic “baby” scent, and it really helps keep toddler skin clean and moisturized. It also gets bonus points in summer for soothing bug bites, minor scrapes, and mild sunburn.

Sleeping. Y’all, my son didn’t sleep longer than three hours at a stretch until he was 14 months old. He didn’t stop waking up at least once per night until he was almost two. You’re going to kill me for saying this, but I’ve just got to get it out there: Let Your Baby Cry It Out. Get thee to a bookshop and locate that damn Ferber book and use the hell out of it. It works. The only kids I know who go to sleep happily and easily on a routine basis are kids who were Ferberized. That said, did I Ferberize my kid? No. Of course not. I absolutely could not stand to let him cry like that, because he wouldn’t cry himself to sleep. He’d cry himself into an absolute panic with a side of rage, and I was always afraid he’d make himself sick. If you’re one of these parents — or you have a kid like mine — then you’ve just got to resign yourself to being sleepless for a good long while. Establish a bedtime routine (a short one; bath, kisses, and bed is about right), help him to learn to self-soothe, and get used to popping out of bed two or three times a night. The less you fight it, the easier it will be to deal with.

Television. Really? Well, okay — if you must, give Little Einsteins a whirl. Or Pixar movies. Or whatever lets you sleep at night. My recommendation is no TV until four or five years old, but my realization is that this is the 21st century. Just don’t kid yourself that TV is “good” for your tot because “they’re playing Mozart in the background.” No. You know what’s good for your toddler? Running around outside and then coming in to read a book with Mommy. You know what’s convenient for you and fun for your toddler, but not really beneficial to either of you? Television. Recognize the difference, use the box wisely, you’ll be fine.

Food. Home-cooked meals are always best, and the What to Expect books have a great selection of infant and toddler recipes. Again, though, I do realize that this is the 21st century and we’re all busy. What to do about dinner? Enter the Gerber line of toddler meals. They’re great, folks — comprised of ingredients you can recognize, healthy, veggie-centric, easy, and not very expensive. They’re also portable, which means that you can toss one in the diaper bag when you’re headed over to a house full of sugar addicts. There are generic toddler meals by the millions out there, and some of them are even cheaper and easier. Just be sure to read the labels; a lot of them are full of chemicals, salt, or sugar.

Discipline. This one is such a landmine that I’m not going to give a recommendation. I’ll just tell you what works for us. It’s very easy. Are you ready? Okay — we pay attention to Connor. Like, all the time. Which means that he doesn’t have to act out to get noticed, and also means that when he does bend or break the rules, we catch it right away. When that happens, he gets a two-minute time-out on his bed, and an explanation of what rule he broke, how he broke it, and the appropriate way to rectify the situation. (”You’re getting a time-out because you hit Daddy, and we don’t hit in our house. You hurt Daddy, and you need to tell him you’re sorry after your time-out to help him feel better.”) I’ve been told that I’m just “lucky” that this works. That could be true, which is why I’m not making any recommendations. I will say that study after study shows that spanking is not only ineffective but actually harmful to young children — even mild spankings, even rarely. If you’d like more information on that, drop me a line.

Your turn. What works for you? What great product have you found? How do you get your two-year-old to sit like an angel through an hour of speechifying at an adult event? (Besides Stepfording him into submission, that is.) What else would you like to see on this site? Let me know, guys. The comments feature is your friend, and if you’re shy, there’s always email.

Do y’all have any idea how to de-flea your house and pets without killing your toddler? If not, I’m about to tell you, because guess how I spent my weekend? That’s right.

Step 1: Say, “Oh, ew, fleas.” Vacuum thoroughly, wash everything in the house, spray pets with Frontline while toddler is at his grandparents’ house. Vacuum one more time just to be sure.

Step 2: Bask in the glow of a job well done.

Step 3: Wait a week. Notice that you’re all feeling a little itchy.

Step 4: “OH MY LIVING LORD, THERE ARE FLEAS ON CONNOR’S HEAD.”

Step 5: Remove all fleas from toddler while sobbing incoherently and scratching like mad. Apply calamine lotion to toddler. Send toddler off to the safety of his grandparents’ house. (Again.)

Step 6: Shampoo carpets with hot, soapy water. Wash everything in house. Concoct insect repellent spray (1tsp ammonia, 1/4c dish soap, 3c hot water). Spray all furniture with repellent. Salt floors.

Step 7: Vacuum. Vacuum. Vacuum.

Step 8: “SWEET CHRIST IN HEAVEN, WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO KILL THESE THINGS?”

Step 9: Drive to Wal-Mart. Procure flea-killing carpet powder, egg-and-larvae-killing drops, flea collars for cats, three boxes of 20 Mule Team Borax, new spray bottles for repellent, more salt, detergent, and bleach. Just for good measure, pick up a couple of crucifixes and some holy water.

Step 10: Sprinkle all carpets with flea powder. Sprinkle yard with Borax. Wash everything in house again, weeping miserably into washing machine. Mix up more repellent; apply to all windows, doors, furniture, pets, and annoying husbands. Use whip and chair to subdue cats; apply flea collars and egg-killing drops.

Step 11: See step 7.

Step 12: Vacuum furniture thoroughly, shampoo carpets with hot, soapy ammonia water.

Step 13: Bathe vigorously and obsessively. Don crucifixes. Drink holy water and/or vodka. Pray.

So far, this seems to have worked. We’re going to keep using the powder once weekly and salt the carpets every night for about two weeks. We’re also, of course, going to be vacuuming daily to get all this stuff up. If y’all have some better ideas that don’t include lavender oil or exorcists, give me a shout — I’m at the end of my wits.

I just noticed that I’d been tagged by Angie. Here’s the deal: Since I’m not looking to turn this into a meme blog, I’m just going to tell you eight things about me. If you’d like to share things about yourself, leave them in the comments or post them on your blog. Consider this my way of tagging the Internet.

Eight things about me:

1) I currently have a moderate sunburn on the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades. I spent a grand total of 15 minutes outside yesterday, which normally wouldn’t cause me to burn… except that I just lopped off about 10 inches of hair, exposing virgin skin to the sun’s rays. Ow!

2) I really like the new haircut, fried neck-skin aside.

3) There is always a pile of laundry in my kitchen, because that is where the washing machine is and I think that if I keep them together I will get more laundry done. Note: this does not actually work.

4) I have five cats.

5) And a guinea pig.

6) All of us (plus my son and my husband) squeeze ourselves into a small two-bedroom apartment. To date, no blood has been shed.

7) My son will turn down ice cream in favor of green beans, because we’re hippies like that.

I haven’t eaten at McDonald’s in almost a year.

Okay, guys. One-two-three GO!

Did I say “tomorrow” in that last post? I meant “sometime,” as in, “I’ll be back with a new post sometime.” Yeah.

We had a surprise wedding to attend this weekend. It wasn’t really a surprise, but we’d gotten the date mixed up and somehow thought that the 14th would be next weekend. Because we are geniuses who clearly have the ability and mental wattage to raise a child with success. So, we spent day before yesterday hunting around for things to wear that didn’t make us look like the poor relatives from Arkansas, and we spent yesterday actually at the wedding and reception.

The wedding was very nice, made even nicer by the fact that we were smart and got a sitter. I quibbled over this a bit — Connor’s almost 27 months old and he’s very well-behaved. He’s capable of going to a small wedding without ruining the proceedings or melting into a puddle of whining toddler-mush. I’ve always been on a bit of a high horse about parents who get sitters for every little thing, because my thinking is that when you have a child that child becomes a part of your life. Your whole life, that is, not just the parts you spend at home with some free time on your hands.

I know people who will hire a babysitter just to run to Wal-Mart. I know people who will ask their neighbors to watch their kids so that they can go get gas or pick up lunch. I know people, furthermore, who will refuse to do these things if they can’t find anyone to watch the kids. You may call me Captain Judgypants, but I disapprove of this. It’s your kid, folks, not your embarrassing and sodden mother-in-law.

Kids are eminently portable. They’re compact, lightweight, and easy to clean. Also, they are very, very cute. Why miss out on an opportunity to make total strangers go, “Awww?” I know it always makes you feel vaguely gross to change a diaper in a public restroom. I know that kids often make noise or distract you from whatever event you’re attending, but — dude. It’s your kid. If you’re not willing to miss ten seconds of the best man’s drunken toast to listen to your child, perhaps you should have considered not having one.

Still, we got a sitter. I’m glad we did so; the wedding was short, but the reception was three hours long, and the after-party stretched into six hours. I think that about qualifies for “situations a two-year-old cannot handle.” Sometimes it’s nice to go out and be a grownup.

In case you missed it, the key word there was sometimes. Every parent needs a break on occasion. Every mom needs to remember that she can look pretty and have a drink or two, maybe even cursing aloud in the course of general conversation. It’s a nice change from spelling out C-R-A-P when you break a dish at home. To me, the trouble comes in when these “breaks” appear every day on really lame pretexts. Your child should not be “too embarrassing” to take with you on a gas run. Your child should not be “too exhausting” to take grocery shopping. The only way she’s going to learn how to behave in public is if you take her out and teach her.

The President probably will not be visiting your local convenience store today; go ahead and take your toddler with you. He’ll have fun, and you might be surprised to find that so will you. After all, your kid is the cutest on the planet. Just look at those dimples!

It is very early as I write this. Connor had a rough night, and about 5:00 this morning he decided that bed was simply no longer an option. While he was visiting family yesterday he spent quite a bit of time outside, and he picked up a stellar collection of bug bites. (Stellar as in “I think we could draw lines between them to form Orion and his belt,” not stellar as in “great.”) We gave him children’s Benadryl and applied calamine lotion, but he woke up every three hours as the Benadryl wore off. This morning is not kind to us, folks.

As an exhausted-mom cop out, I’m just going to give y’all a collection of links this morning. Eventually, some of these may make it to the blogroll or the links sidebar, but for now they’ll have to do as an entry. Let’s just pretend I wrote something insightful around the links, okay?

Like most of you, I enjoy reading mommyblogs. This is actually a holdover from long before I had a kid; I just like reading about children and parents. I’m pretty sure the entire internet knows about Dooce and Mighty Girl, but do y’all know about Mimi Smartypants? All three of these women are pretty hilarious, and thankfully, all three of them find the time to update regularly and the brainpower to do so with style.

Here’s a little something for those of you who have trouble with meals: Mom Puts Family on Her Meal Plan. Some — okay, most — of the information in the article will be pretty familiar. (Prepare meals ahead of time! Learn to make a few quick and easy staple meals!) Still, it’s never a bad idea to reiterate this stuff. This link may require you to register with the New York Times.

If you find that article interesting, try hitting up Living Behind the Curve and check out their SRSLY plan. It’s a nice take on pre-prepared meals, and all it requires is that you own a CrockPot. Actually, it doesn’t really even require that — if you don’t own a slow-cooker, a nifty trick is to throw your CrockPot meal into a stockpot and pop it in the oven at 200 while you get on with life.

My, that was food-centric, wasn’t it? As a silly subject change, Baby Gift UK offers exactly what the title implies — baby gifts for you Brits. (It also has offerings for new parents.) The site’s got a nice variety of items for sale, although they seem to be a bit pricey. These are for when you really want to impress someone or you really want to give something nice. Don’t waste them on your snotty sister-in-law!

Mighty Goods offers a smaller version of the same thing for those of you in the US. Smaller… but much more funny. This site is run by Maggie of Mighty Girl, so using it makes you win twice.

All right, kids. I’m checking out. I’ll be back tomorrow with something insightful, witty, and heartwarming.

I’m a bit late with the posting this morning. I was too busy castigating myself for oversleeping to realize that oh yeah, I have a blog now. I’m hoping 451press will be kind enough to pretend it’s 9:30 where I am, just this once. (Once! I swear!)

Connor spent last night away from home, and I fully blame that circumstance for my lateness. If he’d been home I wouldn’t have stayed up until four in the morning and therefore would not have slept until 10:15. I always feel guilty when I say things like that; although I don’t feel bad about letting Connor stay with a family member or trusted friend overnight occasionally, the minute I admit to someone else that I did so I get the guilts.

Bad mommy! Bad mommy! Your child is only two! He isn’t equipped to be away from you! Well, okay, but… he’s not “away” from me. I didn’t sign him over to bounce around in foster care, here. We’re just having a little break. He’s having fun playing with his cousins and I am having fun dabbling in mild debauchery. (I slept! Past ten! Next thing you know, you’ll be prying the crackpipe from my fingers!) When he gets home in a couple of hours, he will be bubbling over with things he did, people he saw, and all the illicit foods he ate. I will be bubbling over with how cute he is, how rested I feel, and how glad I am that he lives with me instead of with his cousins.

I think this is a win-win situation. Michael and I are lucky in that we have quite a few family members who live in our town and absolutely love to take Connor off our hands for a bit. I know that other parents of two-year-olds are not nearly so lucky, and I think maybe this is where the guilt comes in. It’s automatically assumed that if your toddler spends the night away from you one night a week, you must not want to be around him very much. That assumption is very common, because most parents don’t have relatives who want their kids to spend the night — they have relatives or friends or babysitters who have to be bribed, begged, or paid to help out. Taking a little break is a lot of effort when you don’t have this built-in support network, and when Connor spends so many nights or afternoons away it looks like I am constantly, desperately making that effort. “Take him, take him, please!”

So, the guilt. It consumes me. I’m not a lazy or neglectful mother, though, and most of me knows it. I don’t shunt my kid off to the grandparents almost every night so that I can go out and party; I allow him to spend the night with his aunt or his grandparents once a week so that everybody in my little family can get a break and have some fun. Connor spends those nights playing with his friends and getting close to his family, Michael usually comes home from work and goes directly to bed for an 11-hour sleep, and I spend those nights lamely browsing the internet and wondering why I don’t have a life.

How do you guys give your kids family time? How do you give them some interaction with people who are not you? Do you take breaks like this too? Would you kill for breaks like this? There’s a little button down there that’ll let you chime in.

Hi, folks. I hope you’re all ready for copious amounts of cuteness.

I’m going to take this week to figure out WordPress and decide just how many directions this thing’s going to go in. This means that for the next three days, you’re going to hear a lot of trivial stuff about my very own child. Next Monday, we’ll get into the real stuff — advice, tips, stories, product reviews, all that jazz. Bear with me until then, okay? I promise it’ll get better.

I suppose, before I start setting myself up as some sort of toddler authority, I should give you a little background. I’m a 20-something small-town girl with a degree in print journalism and about 15 years of experience in chilcare. I started babysitting pretty steadily when I was barely into the double digits, and I seem to have focused on the little ones right from the start. When I was 19, I became a licensed childcare provider in my state and did a little daycare from home for a while. Now I’m a mom myself — I have a two-year-old son who cracks me up on a consistent basis, and I think I’m doing a pretty good job with him. (With a little help from my husband, of course. You know how it goes.)

What does all of this mean for you? It means that I (mostly) know my stuff, and that you’ll find it in a (mostly) readable format. It also means that sometimes you’ll come here for advice and instead find a story like the one I’m about to tell you.

See, I can’t resist bragging about my kid. He’s cute, y’all, and recently he’s been especially cute. He’s figured out that he can say things that aren’t strictly true. He’s not turning into a big lying liar or anything, he’s just started realizing that he can use his imagination or his wishes to bring a little sparkle to reality. Rumor (by which I mean, child development books) has it that this is a good sign — it means that he’s learning how to use his very own mind. It does lead to some pretty funny moments, though, because he just isn’t good at it yet. He knows he can get out of things by stretching or shifting the truth, but he hasn’t caught on to what Mommy will buy and what Mommy will squash.

Okay, there’s the backstory. The real story is that we were in the car almost all day yesterday, cashing my check and going shopping and making appointments. Driving, driving, driving in the heat. Connor’s nap was disrupted by all this and on our way home he slumped in his car seat, vaguely sweaty, with his eyes at half mast. “Look at that,” I said quietly to my husband. “That’s a tired boy.”

Connor immediately sat bolt upright in his seat, snapping his eyes open as if he’d just been waiting for me to say those words. “I not tired, Mommy. I am just fake tired.”

All right, maybe you had to be there. In any case, I’ll have better stuff for you next week. For now, I’d like you guys to email me and tell me what you’d like to see here. Got a question? Need some advice? Menu planning? Toddler jokes? I do this for you, you know.