Material Boy

"Mommy guess what?  A lot of girls like me."

"Really buddy?"

"Yeah, like 5 or 6."

"Wow! That's great. Who are they?"

L__, J___, C__, A__ ( Names are being kept secret to protect the innocent.)

"That's good." 

I returned to the dishes and then 10 minutes later.

"And they like the right boy", he says as he shakes his head up and down.

"What's that?"

"They picked the right boy to like."

"OK?"

"Oh yeah, I have a lot of things."

"What do you have buddy?"  (As I think to myself- You own nothing.)

He unimerates his many valued possesions. 1.__ 2.__ 3.__ 4.__

"Maybe they will like you for what you have in here."  I placed my hand on his chest. 

A few minutes later he says,  "I don't really know why they like me.  Why do you think Mommy?"

I unimerate his may attributes.
1. You're really cute.  He smiles and says, "I know."
2. You're nice.  He shrugs his shoulders and mumbles,"Sometimes."
3. You're talented
4. And you're pretty smart. He lifts up his chin and exclaimes, "I know how to read and a lot of math."

So the lessons here. 
1. We have done a good job with his self esteem. 
2. We are definitely spoiling him.

It's My Potty and I'll Cry if I Want To!

You would cry too if it happened to you. 

Potty training can make everyone cry both child and parent.

I remember moms who said they would use mini M&'Ms to get their kids to use the potty.  I would outwardly say, "that's great I'll keep it in mind", but inwardly say, "I'm never gonna do that!"  I'll use stars and encouragement.  It worked on and off.   More off the potty than on.

Then one day, grandma tried Raisinettes.  They worked like a charm.  I was so upset that I was using chocolate but so happy that it was so effective.  So we stocked up on Raisinettes and cut back on diapers.

However, he still wore diapers at night.  He didn't want to anymore, but I just wasn't ready.  Not ready to get up in the middle of the night again to take him to the potty or change wet sheets.

Once I was ready I invested in piddle pads (doggy wee wee pads from petco).  This at least saved the mattress.  This time I didn't mess around with the stars and charts first and went straight to the chocolate.  So then we stocked up on oreos and finally stopped buying diapers.  Not a bad trade.  But I guess I should start saving for the cavities and dentist bills.

Fear Factor

"I brought you into this world and I can take you out."

Words that for years, I really believed to be true. 

Whats the problem with kids today? (wow I sound like a 50's television dad)  The truth is... they have no fear. 

My husband and I worked with teenagers at our church for over 4 years.  And there is nothing scarier than a teen who has no fear of their parents.  I remember one teen who would lock herself in her room and runaway for days.  If her parents raised their voices or threatened her in any way she would call the police on them.  This was terrifying and hopeless.

My life was totally different.  You would be hard pressed to find someone more of a goody two shoes than me.  I never talked back to my mother. I have never tried an  illeagal drug.  I knew one thing for sure.  If my mother ever caught me doing any one of those things, I was dead.  I had lots of opportunity.  My mother worked and I was home alone a lot.  The second thing I knew for sure was that my mom had installed camera's all over the house.  She didn't really.  I think.  The truth is I really can't be sure and I'm still a little afraid of her.

I certainly didn't want my son to turn out like that teenager and the thought of that gives me the chills. 

The key is to find the balance between loving and fear.  There are times to be "lovey dovey" mommy and there are times to be "scary" mommy. 

What do I mean by that?  Your kids have to know that you are capable of doing what you said you would.  Concistency is the key.  Don't say something you can't actually do.  So for example if you say,"If you don't pick up these toys off of the floor I will throw them away."  Guess what? you need to throw them away.  Crazy? perhaps?  You don't have to do things like this too many times.  You just have to do it unexpectedly here and there. 

Now lets put things in perspective.  A disclaimer:  I am not a psychologist.  I can't confirm without a shadow of a doubt that I am not a little traumatized from my own childhood.  What I can assert is that my fear kept me from doing things that I am sure I would regret today and I have seen what lack of fear can do.

So every now and then a beloved toy may or may not end up in the garbage.  You can never be too sure.

The Tooth Fairy Doesn't Exists!

“The Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist”, he exclaimed in a tone that was both mocking and shocked all at once. After all he is only five years old and our new toothless friend is already six.

There we were in the cookie isle at Target. We had just met new friends. They could have been potential play-dates. But now I was sure that the mommy wanted to kill me.

I tugged at my son’s arm, opened my eyes wide and smiled. He stared back up at me with a puzzled look on his face as if saying, “What did I do?” I looked over at the Mom and turned my head sideways hoping that the expression of my face was understood. I was so sorry and so embarrassed.

Fortunately her son did not get it. The panic shared by his mother and I went completely over his head and he probably thought that my son was delusional. Now the feeling was mutual.

This interaction was all my fault. I decided long before my son was born that I didn’t want to perpetuate the deception story of Santa Clause. I know! I know! I’m a horrible person. Blah, Blah, Blah. But how could I lie to my son about Santa Clause for years and then expect him to believe that God is real. I just imagined the look of betrayal on his face the day he would find out that I had been lying all of this time. How could he ever trust me again.

I can’t tell you how many people tried to convince me that all kids who believe in Santa Clause turn out all right. They don’t hate their parents and think they are liars. I was raised in Cuba and Santa does not fly over Cuba’s restricted air space.

I kept saying that I guess I would have to reevaluate the decision and cross that bridge when we get to it. Once he was born I figured I had a couple of years more to decide and so I put it off.

Then at 3 years old I was preempted by a concerned mother in law and my son came home from grandma’s house with his first ever letter for Santa.

The deception had begun. It was too late to turn back now. I just couldn’t be the one to tell him the truth now. I have gone along with this now for three years. One of the main reasons that I go along is the fear of an exchange like the one that took place at Target. I have nieces and nephews to worry about and I can’t have my son be “that kid”. The kid that bursts everyone’s bubble. I don’t want preschool mommies calling me each week complaining that my son made their child cry. So we make a list, put out the cookies and we hide the toys.

It still upsets me to think that an imaginary jolly man with a white beard and red suit takes all the credit for the sacrifices mommy and daddy make to buy the toys that bring joy to our little boy’s life. But in the meantime, I can always make him behave by threatening him with the lump of coal and that works like a charm.

But mommies everywhere are warned. The Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny are still fair game.

Cafe con Leche

What do you get when you let a two year old try Cafe con Leche?

A Coffee addicted 5 year old.

We're not really a coffee drinking family.  Cafe con Leche is an occasional treat but a tradition none the less. 

Cuban kids and I suspect quite a few other Hispanic children drink coffee and milk from their baby bottle.  Many Hispanic parents don't see anything wrong with this at all.  They are in fact drinking milk.  "Growing kids need their calcium".

It was not my plan to follow through with this tradition.  I figured when the subject came up I would pretend that chocolate milk was coffee.  It has worked well for one of my best friends.  They are a heavy coffee drinking family but the kids are none the wiser as they sip on their hot chocolate.

Then there was that fateful Saturday morning trip to Grandma's.  I only discovered what had happened from a picture.  A picture of a sweet two year old grinning from ear to ear with bread crumbs on his cheeks and few droplets of Cafe con Leche on his shirt.

The chasm had been crossed.  The point of no return. 

I typically pass for "gringa".  But the way you know I'm Cuban for sure is to put a nice hot cup of Cafe con Leche in front of me and a half a loaf of heavily buttered flat toasted cuban bread "tostada" and see them both quickly disappear.

So it became a Saturday ritual.  The visit to Grandma and the Cafe con Leche.  I wouldn't actually let him drink the Cafe con Leche.  He would only dip his bread, but I would have to rip the coffee cup out of his tiny little hands as he hung on for dear life with mouth open hoping to catch just a drop more. 

He could smell the coffee a mile away.  It was hard for mom and dad to sneak in a cup without him knowing.  "What are you drinking?"  "Nothing Buddy"  I smell coffee.

Little by little it was every other Saturday and then just once a month.  Now it's just once in a while.

With ash brown hair and blue eyes, I guess you could say he could pass for "gringo", but place a steaming cup of Cafe con Leche and Tostada in front of the boy and watch it disappear.

The Cuban in him comes out just like his mommy.  He is 3/4ths Cuban after all and tomorrow is Saturday.

Naptime Sabotage

Most mom's relish those 45 minutes to 2 hours (if your lucky) that their little angel closes his little eyes and fades away to dreamland.  Some Mom's worship this time.  Their entire days revolve around this daily ritual.

I too hoped and prayed for this brief time of rest.  I tried to be consistant, set a restful mood.  I tried forcing him.  Driving around in the car.  I had some successes.  There were times I was lucky and got around 45 minutes. 

But to tell you the truth.  When my son is in my care he never takes a nap.  I will not allow it. 

You see when my son takes a nap something happens.  Someone else steps into his little body while he sleeps.  He falls asleep my sweet little boy and wakes up another thing altogether.  I don't recognize him at all.  It's a classic Jekel and Hide.

As he rouses himself from slumber I would say a quicky prayer that maybe he wasn't possesed today.  I would slowly open the door and try to make his rising a good and wonderful thing.  I would crawl into bed and gently stroke his hair.  "Hi there sunshine."  But it was no use. 

It starts with tossing and turning.  Whining and crying.  He doesn't want me in the room, he doesnt want me to leave.  He doesn't want to get up and he doesn't want to lay down.  Everything is no and the whining is through the roof.  He doesn't want to go to the park and the simplest word makes him cry. 

This after naptime ritual can last as long as the nap.  Truly not worth the 45 minutes of peace during the nap.  It was more like the calm before the storm.

If he starts to doze off I cough, I talk, I'll sing.  I'll tickle. 

There will be no afternoon shut eye on my watch. 

Knock- Knock

Who’s there?

Boy, do little kids love knock-knock jokes!

My son loves them too.

He’s a great audience because he doesn’t really get the concept yet, so he laughs at anything.  Good thing since I only know two.

Last night he started the Knock- knock jokes while we were riding in the car. He says one and then he makes me say one.

When it was my turn I use my usual repertoire:

Knock-Knock
Who is there?
Banana
Banana who?
Knock- knock
Who’s there?
Banana
Banana who?
Knock- knock
Who’s there?
Orange
Orange who?
Orange you glad I didn’t say Banana?

Then there was a twinkle in his eye and I could tell a little light bulb went off. I think he has finally gotten the concept.

So he says:

Knock- knock
Who’s there?
Shriever
Shriever who? (I mean really who or what is shriever?)
Knock- knock
Who' there?
Shriever ( I think he might really be getting it.)
Knock- knock
Who’s there?
Watermelon
Watermelon who?
Watermelon if you want me to say Shriever again.

The three of us erupted got a case of the giggles. So our budding comedian just kept repeating the same joke over and over with different fruit each time.

I guess it's back to the drawing board, as we ended the night with quite a nice fruit salad of knock- knock jokes.

A Shot in the Arm

To vaccinate or not to vaccinate... that is the question.

For new parents, it is a huge decision. Do I let someone stick a virus cocktail into my brand new little baby or do I risk him getting a serious illness. This precious little life has been given to me and everything that happens to him is my responsibility.

I tend to lean a little towards being a little bit of a granola-y, tree hugger-y, stay away from toxins type of girl. My initial thought was not to vaccinate, but I always keep an open mind. I read a lot. Dr. Robert Young, author of the PH Miracle believes that vaccinations are highly toxic and ineffective. Some websites that can be helpful on both sides of the issue are http://www.thinktwice.com/ and http://www.cdc.com/.

My opinion is that only parents can really make this decision. It really upsets me that parents are usually pressured into this decision. They are scared into it and they never even think about it for themselves. Whatever you choose, should be what is right for you and you shouldn't be guilted into deciding for or against vaccinating. One of my midwives put it best when she said you are going to be the one that holds your baby in your arms should they be suffering from a vaccine side effect or suffering from meningitis. So I had to really think about this and decided that I would take my chances with these rare diseases and not vaccinate.

At each doctor's visit my doctor would re-visit the subject and suggest that we reconsider. At our 10 month visit we gave in and allowed him to get his Prevnar. We luckily had no side effects. I felt like I had sold out to the fear and really guilty so we didn't get anymore vaccinations.

Now a huge misconception is that your child will not be allowed in school without his vaccinations. This is not true. This is a free country and vaccinations are a consumer product and a pharmaceutical and we cannot be forced to consume it. Schools do require it but you can get a waiver. Some parents know that they don't have to get their kids vaccinated but have not idea how to get this waiver. It took me a few years to get it because I thought it was going to be really difficult. When I finally went to get it, it turned to be the easiest thing I had ever done. You can just call the department of health and ask them for the location nearest you. The wait in the lobby was about half an hour and the process once inside was about 5 minutes.

When my son was 2 years old, he got a laceration on his forehead. We took him to the hospital for stitches. The doctor suggested that we give him the DTAP vaccine in case of tetanus. I was pretty sure he had cut himself on something plastic and not rusty metal. I refused but my husband wasn't so sure. So after a very long discussion we proceeded with the vaccine.

Mother's intuition is a very powerful thing. Two weeks later my son had a rash on his face, when we took him to the doctor, she said the rash didn't worry her but some bruising on his legs and some red dots on his skin were of more concern. A blood test revealed that his platelet count was extremely low and falling. This condition is called ITP. We tested him every other day and his numbers kept doubling down. Our only option was to put him in the hospital over night for an infusion. Luckily right before he was infused we tested him one more time and his numbers had gone up just a bit, but enough that we could choose to take him home and wait and see. This was a roller coaster of emotions for us and I don't wish this on anyone. I kept asking all of the doctors if this could have anything to do with the vaccine and they all said no. So I read the insert for the Dtap which is available online www.immunize.org/packageinserts and there it was on page 33. ITP was a possible side effect. I also learned that vaccinations are contraindicated for people who have ever had an autoimmune disorder and that if your parents have had an autoimmune disorder you are also more susceptible. I just couldn't believe that one one ever asked.

To vaccinate was not right for us, but no one should tell you what you should choose. My hope is that parents will educate themselves every step of the way.

Hit me with your best shot!

As expectant mothers, we all have our ideas of how we will raise our kids. We say to ourselves, that we will never do this or do that or that we will never let them do this or that.

When my son was five months it was time to introduce solid foods. Many told me to give him fruit, but I refused. I didn't want him to develop a sweet tooth and reject healthier foods.

I was doing great. He would eat rice and beans, lentils, fish, tofu, avocado, masaman curry, and mashed green beans with rice. I was so proud of myself. My son had a great palette and would grow up to have sophisticated tastes.

On my son's first birthday he caught a stomach virus and it was bad. Dad and I caught it too. I wanted to die because I was so sick. Once we recovered and started eating again, I decided to listen to everyone who said that I should give Nicholas applesauce and mashed bananas to start off. Big mistake. Sweet tooth here we come. After that day, he rejected everything that wasn't sweet. It took years to slowly add things back into his menu and I found myself feeding my son chicken fingers, french fries and pizza more often than I can admit. Many mom's advised that I refuse him food if he didn't eat what I had made him, but as a working mom, I didn't want a fight for the little bit of time I had him.

A little over a year ago, I remember catering a wedding where the bride, groom and sister all wanted to eat the kid's meal of chicken finger's and fries. I swore no child of mine would end up eating chicken fingers and fries at their wedding.

I had to put my foot down. He wasn't eating anything they served him at school. And then, it came to me, out of know where. It wasn't premeditated but it was Brilliant.

I spoke to his school's director with Nicholas within earshot. I said to her, " Ms. Elba, I really need your help getting Nicholas to eat his food and vegetables. His doctor has told me that if he doesn't eat his food and vegetables, she will have to give him a shot." And then from across the room I heard him sobbing. He ran to me weeping. He was scared to death.

That night at home he reluctantly ate broccoli. The next day he had some of his food at school. Some days, when I picked him up from school he was already crying as I approached the door if that day he didn't taste the vegetable. He would beg me not to take him in for the shot. I would agree to give him one more chance if he ate a new vegetable at home that evening.

Little by little, he tasted asparagus, broccoli, mixed greens, avocado, zucchini, cucumber, tomatoes, red peppers. He ate anything I wanted him to eat or he was getting the dreaded shot.

Now my super eater has vegetables for both lunch and dinner everyday, expects them and asks for them. Did I traumatize him? Perhaps a little, but he will thank me one day.

My mother said that I was traumatizing him and that I shouldn't scare him that way. It seems that she has forgotten the times she would light a match and chase me around the house telling me that she was going to burn my feet if I walked around barefoot. Ring-Ring: Hello Kettle? This is the pot.

Till this day, I can't walk around barefoot and and my feet are super sensitive even when walking at the beach.

Preschool Casanova

My son is a cutie. Not that I am biased in any way. He's got light ash brown hair and piercing blue eyes that can see right through you.

My son likes girls.

As a baby he would giggle on purpose to get a pretty girls attention. So I already knew I was in trouble in the girl department. But I didn't think we'd be here so soon.

A few months ago my husband gave my son a few pennies to play a game at work. He spent a few, but saved a few in his pocket. So we asked him about it and he said he was saving them for Amy. He also mentioned that he wanted to get her a pink flower because pink was her favorite color. Even though I thought it was super cute; I wasn't going to go out and buy a flower and make this into anything serious. However a week after that my little helper was putting out favor boxes at a baby shower and noticed that the flowers in the centerpieces were pink. He pulled me aside and whispered, "Mami, the flowers are pink". I said that's right buddy. "Mommy can I take a flower for Amy?" I said that they were not mine so I couldn't give him one. He mustered up the courage and asked the hostess, who of course said yes. We kept the flower in water overnight so that he could take it to school the next day.

The next day at school he walked in with the flower behind his back. The teacher asked who the flower was for and he whispered it to her. She made everyone close their eyes as he placed the flower in her hand. She then gave him a hug and he turned bright red. Adorable.

We'll the other day while driving home from school, he tells me that the love isn't there anymore with Amy. I asked him what happened and if she didn't want to be his friend anymore or if he didn't want to be her friend anymore. He said, " Both of us; We are separated." Where does he learn these words?

He was just moved to a new PreK4 class for the big kids and so I asked him if they moved Amy too and if she is his friend. He says, "Mommy I told you- we are separated." I asked him why they were not friends anymore and he told me that it was because she was a liar. Apparently she claimed that Winnie the Pooh's name in Spanish was Tata. I said, "Is that the only reason?" She also claimed that her mommy didn't want her to be friends with him. Which to me sounded like the preschool version of "It's not you.- It's me."

Here we are again. On the drive home two weeks ago he said, "Mommy can I take a flower to school for Ludmila?" Ludmilla is in his new class and she is older. We picked a beautiful Plumeria from our tree, but after he professed his intentions she reavealed that she wants to marry someone else.

He took it well and has moved on to Estella.

If this is what we are dealing with at four what can I expect at 14?

God help me. I always thought that I would be a really cool Mom when it came to my childs interests, but I remember the moment they placed my son in my arms and I looked into his eyes. The first thing that crossed my mind was- "No woman is ever going to be good enough for you."

Picky Eater

If your kids are anything like my little one, you have the deepest conversations while driving around. He may ask, "Mommy does Hulk have a wife or kids?" or "When can I become Spiderman?" These are the deep musings of a four year old.

Well on this especially long drive he says, "Mommy, What is mucus for?". My husband and I give each other a look. Let's see where do I begin? Sometimes I feel like a need a Phd for some of these questions.

I begin to explain that there are little hairs within the nose that help to filter the air and catch larger particles too keep them from entering the lungs and that the liquid mucus also traps germs and dust from entering the lungs and our body so that we don't get sick. So we said, " Buddy this is why we always tell you not to pick your nose and eat your boogers. You are letting these germs into your body"

He gets really quiet and then says, "I understand!- I understand now! Why didn't you tell me all of this sooner. If you would have told me sooner...(he pauses). Oh my God! I could have died!

Me No Spiki Ingi

Miami a truly international city. You walk down any street and you can hear Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Creole and a host of other languages.

I grew up Speaking English in School and Spanish at home. I have memories of "El Noticiero 23" and of course all of the Spanish Novelas like, "El Derecho de Nacer" every evening. However, since I can "pass" for a gringa and grew up in Miami Beach, most people assume that I am not Cuban. I have always felt Cuban, but I knew I didn't fit in with the other Cuban girls that grew up in Little Havana or Hialeah. I eat Bagels and Lox with as much enthusiasm as Cafe con Leche.

I have been married for 10 years and we have been an English speaking household. Well that is until our son was born. We decided that we would teach him Spanish first. This was a huge sacrifice since I think and dream in English. I bought kids English/Spanish dictionaries so that I would not end up teaching him Spanglish. I have always considered myself fluent in Spanish but teaching a little child from Scratch is another thing all together.

So here we are 4 years later. Four years of Spanish only. Wow only in Miami can I raise a gringo looking, blue eyed boy with Spanish as his first language. He does not let me speak English to him. He wants me to translate every book and until recently he would always pick the Spanish sound track on all of his movies.

It is quite funny but he has an accent when he tries to speak English. He has been picking some up recently. How does this happen. How did we do it? Well as it turns out none of the teachers in day care speak English either. Whenever I would go into a new daycare I would ask if people spoke English. Since they though I was American they all quickly tried to speak in their best English to assure me that they did, "O ches wi spiki ingli". I would say no please do not speak to him in English but since they are required to teach them in English it was inevitable that he would pick up their accent. There are things he says to me that I can barely understand. He also picks up things from TV that crack me up. His recent one is "Okay, okay Mr. Wossy" which means "Mr. Bossy" Although I tell him that it is not the right way to speak to Mommy and Daddy, I love it when he says it. I know I shouldn't do this but sometimes I set him up so that he says it. It is the cutest thing I have ever heard.

A few months ago I was very worried that I had made a huge mistake. He started to be shy at the park. He wouldn't approach kids until he knew what language they spoke first. He didn't want to be the one to speak first for fear that he would be in the wrong language. Thank goodness that it was short lived. He has gone back to asking other kids to play with their toys in both languages.

Recently I have been increasing some of the English we speak to him so that he can learn the right way to say things. He once came home singing- Mon- Fri "to" days of the week, only to find out that it was supposed to be "the" days of the week and the teacher herself was saying it wrong. A few days ago he came home singing yet another song but this time I have no idea what the song is and he is basically cursing. He sings it all of the time. " Chicken f&*?" This is a real problem as it is a song they are learning to prepare for a show next month. I have to try and get this on video as there will be 15 kids all yelling it at the same time. I tell him that it can't possibly go that way but he insists. So I ask him to stop singing it until I ask the teacher to teach it to me. He is reluctant but says, " Okay, Okay Mr. Wossy"

Neat Freak

So this morning as I slowly make my way to the kitchen in my terrycloth robe and slippers, rubbing my eyes to wake up, a perky little voice says, "Mommy we need to organize the house." He makes wide sweeping circles with his arms to make sure I understand he means the whole house. "We need to organize everything. Let's clean and make everything shiny." He turns and with more sweeping arm circles says, "And what do we need to clean this floor?".

I know- this would be any mother's dream, but keep in mind -Saturday morning, robe, slippers.

I know I am blessed. So I wake myself up and start cleaning. He loves to clean. He did not get that from me. I was an only child and if my mom made me clean, it meant that I was being punished for something.

He must have gotten this trait from Dad's side. My husband is the same way. I know, I know -you hate me. Actually, I think it's an Ecuadorian thing (my husband's side). Not just the cleaning, but the need to rearrange furniture. If my son decides he wants to clean he also means moving the furniture around. This table goes here and that one goes there. "It's prettier this way", he grunts as I run to help him move something before he gives himself a hernia.

I say this is an Ecuadorian thing because my roommate before I was married, who is also Ecuadorian, would constantly move things around. Our apartment never looked the same. She was also obsessed with changing her nail polish every night, but I'm not sure the two things are related.

So there we were on a Saturday morning wiping, sweeping and mopping all before heading to work. Although it was not what I was planning on doing and truthfully I didn't do much with such a great helper; It was surely productive. I truly am blessed and I don't deserve it. My mom always said that in punishment for not cleaning my room I would get a child that was worse than me.

But now that I think about it, perhaps the real punishment is getting a child that is worse than her and still makes me clean my room, even if I don't want to.

Whistle while you work.

My son is obsessed with whistling. He started after seeing Disney's Robin Hood.

He just loves it. He whistles is the morning, on the way to school. He whistles all of the time. Well, he thinks he does.

The only problem is- that he doesn't really know how. Oh, he licks his lips and puckers just right- then proceeds to make a high pitched "whoo-whoo" sound with his throat.

At first, I didn't get it and then as he "whoo-whood" a familiar melody I realized what he was doing. I have to look away and shield my face so he doesn't see me laughing. It is really hard to contain myself.

It really sounds like "whistling" most of the time. The rest of the time, it sounds like a whining dog or a cat scratching a chalk board. It was really cute at first but it has been at least two weeks.

Then Saturday morning, I hear a high pitched sound over the baby monitor. He was "whistling". I guess it is better than when he yells out- Mami! Ven! Ven!!

Since he considers himself a whistling expert, he "whistles" along to cartoon jingles and just anytime he is inspired.

So I sit here listening over the monitor as he "whistles" himself to sleep and the whistling softly fades.

PG- Parental Guidance

Never watch "Bolt" with a four year old. How do you explain to him that the dog he is watching in the movie is part of a TV show but he doesn't know it? If you think Bolt had a hard time understanding that he really didn't have super powers, try explaining it to a four year old. This requires super powers of their own. I don't know about you but all things that have to do with my son require parental guidance.

Its like the questions never stop. Why this, why that. Sometimes he sets me up. He makes a statement like, "That man stopped his car because the light was red." I say, "That's right buddy" and then he says, "why did the man stop the car? Why is the light red?" I have finally figured out how to stop this line of questioning. I have two techniques. One is to answer with a very long scientific and correct answer like-there are sensors strategically placed along the road and they transmit information through to the light posts about the flow of traffic and a computer that controls the light signals changes the light to red." This usually has him take a short break while he digests it all. Sometimes it back fires. My new one is to say, "Why do you think that he stopped? This one is working nicely lately.

And then this evening, I read him an abridged version of Alice in Wonderland. It was just the story of a dormouse that eats magic candy and becomes a giant. I should have known better.

"Mommy what is a dormouse. Which are the magic candies. Why did she tell the Mad Hatter not to eat them. I don't see the magic candies in this picture. Why is the mouse a giant." I had to threaten to stop reading the story. It was exhausting to say the least. He is finally asleep and I'm going to bed, but who is going to read me a story?

Take my child or Somebody's Going to Get Hurt

Whenever I would meet someone who found out I was a new mommy they would always say, "Aren't they fun?" I would smile at them but would think to myself-"fun is not the word I would use to describe my situation." It is a blast now-most of the time, but the first eight months were a living hell. It wasn't my son. He was a good baby. It wasn't him, it was me. I hadn't slept in over a year and I was totally depressed. God allows me to go through certain things so that I can't be self righteous. Before I had my son I would hear of a mother who hurt herself and her child and I would think. "How can anyone do something like that?" I know how. Wow those first few months were scary for me. I was clueless about how to take care of a baby. I wasn't producing enough milk and I was alone most of the day. I was lonely, I was tired and I felt guilty all of the time. Why didn't I have lovey dovey thoughts all day? What was wrong with me? A hormone imbalance and some chemicals a little bit off, now add to that no sleep, guilt for not producing enough milk and loneliness and this is a dangerous recipe. A newborn cannot care about you or tell you that it is all going to be okay. It just cries a lot. I thank God everyday that I had some self control and could say to myself-"self, get a grip-those are not good thoughts, take a deep breath and think of something else." There were times I thought about crashing my car and had to literally shake it off. I can't even imagine what it must be like for women who are truly clinically depressed and cannot catch their thoughts and make them captive. Sometimes I get a little nervous when I think of having another child. I have always been a truly fun and happy person with lots of optimism and it freaks me out to think about being in that frame of mind again. On the bright side I can now remember that it gets better. One of the things that make the baby blues so blue is the feeling that it is never going to get better. The feeling that your life has changed forever. Now I know that a newborn doesn't stay a newborn forever. At 8 months I started going to the park everyday. More for me than for my son. I need to talk to other parents. At 10 months I placed him in daycare part time. I drove around looking for the right place and all I wanted was for someone to take my child or someone was going to get hurt. He started sleeping through the night at one year and then my life changed. Sleep is what I really needed. Soon I got back to work full time and I felt human again. After 18 months he was truly fun. It just kept getting better and better. He truly is a blast. I know I can't live without him. He provides the purest unconditional love, hugs and kisses. He brings me unparalleled joy. I hope that anyone who is going through something similar can grow in faith that it gets exponentially better.

Let's Make a Deal

Call it bribery. Call it negotiating. It works. I may be causing more harm than good in the long run but making deals with my son keep my household a peaceful and fun place to be. You want a cookie then you have to put on your PJ's by the time I get back from the kitchen. You want to watch one more Diego then you have to eat Ravioli and peas. It is a true "tit for tat" here. We negotiate everything. He wants me to play soccer with me 1o more minutes than he has to take a shower right after with no complaining. "Mommy and Daddy I want one more this or that" and he has to taste tomatoes or soy beans.

Now don't get me wrong, we do most everything without something in return but whenever he wants something extra that's when its gonna cost him. Sometimes he doesn't want to pay the price and so it is still a win-win.

This Sucks!

When my son was born I wanted to wait the full 6 weeks before introducing a pacifier. I didn't want nipple confusion. Anyone who has tried this can attest to how difficult it is. I was weak, oh so weak. I quickly started shoving that thing in his mouth. There was only one problem. He wouldn't suck. He hated it, spit it out and screamed his little heart out. Every time I put it his mouth it seemed like I was stabbing him on the tongue. I went from trying to wait the six weeks to trying any pacifier I could find. I even researched and ordered a
Soothie from the Internet, this was before they were readily available at most stores. The boy wouldn't take to any of them. It may be hereditary. I also never took to a pacifier. Perhaps we could research this.
He is now four and has never sucked on a pacifier and I am sooo glad. I know some Mom's who still can't break their kids from the habit. If I ever have another child I'll suffer those first few months again. I think it was worth it. However, I will keep you posted since I am weak, oh so weak.

Rock a bye Baby

The Happiest Baby on the Block by Dr. Karp was a huge lifesaver. I strongly recommend it to all new parents. This is a must have on your registry. My neighbors lent it to me when my son was born and I am still using its techniques.

Getting my son to sleep and giving me a break was priority number one. Well, you know making sure he was safe and fed was important too. The book teaches you to reproduce the conditions of the uterus to help your child relax and sleep. White noise and movement are the key. I used hair dryers, shushing him etc. We would place our radio dial to white noise, this became our favorite station. However as he got a little older this lost some of its effectiveness. And then one day we discovered something wonderful, heavy rock had the same effect. I don't mean 50's rock or Bon Jovi type rock. I am talking about Metallica. It is a hilarious phenomenon to watch. Say it is nap time and I'm driving or I'm driving home late from my in laws, I put on his PJ's diaper and our local rock station. As soon as I put the music on he gets really quiet and then stares off into the distance as if he was in a trance. Slowly his eyes begin to close, head bobs and he is out for the count. This does not work with slow rock , jazz or any other type of music. It also needs to have heavy electric guitar. One song that works like a charm is Animal, I don't know performs it. I think it is Nickleback. I would love to recommend this to anyone, but I can't say for sure the rock isn't going to rot his brain, but for now it is music to my ears.

Sleep Deprivation Techniques

Sleep Glorious Sleep. My dear old friend. When will you be back?

I remember sleeping in late, laying in bed with my husband and asking him. "Are you sure you want to give this up?" Wow, that seems like ages ago. Now we negotiate who will go get our son out of bed and who will get 20 more minutes of sleep. He always calls for Mommy, so 8 out of 10 times I gotta go. Sleep is just a faded memory.

I started waking up every two hours from my second month of pregnancy. Something was pressing against my bladder and I had to go. I waddled over and tried not to miss the toilet. My son did not sleep more than two hours at a time until he was 10 months old. At that point he was only sleeping a whopping 4 hours at night. As soon as I put him in his crib I would run to my bed and try to get as much shut eye as possible. He started sleeping through the night at 12 months. Do the math. That is 7 plus 12 months=over a year of no sleep. Some people can do with just a few hours of sleep a night. I am not one of them. My sweet salvation and the best piece of baby gear that any mother can get is a swing. This is the best invention ever for pacifying a crying baby and for extending the sleep time. I value every minute. Even as I write this I am keeping an eye on the camera that is focused on his bed and as he moves I say a little prayer to God that he does not wake up. Now he is a fantastic sleeper but an early riser so the trick is to get him to sleep earlier because no matter what time he goes to sleep, he wakes up at the same time everyday. I haven't needed an alarm clock in 4 years.

I have come to grips with the fact that motherhood means never getting a good night sleep again. Yawn

I wish all of the new Moms out there sweet dreams!