He's the Big Brother

and he is feeling a little anxious.



But mostly we've just got a lot of love going on over here. Come and feel it at our new blog: rockrocksilly.blogspot.com.

This is my last post at Just Jett. It's been a wonderful two years; now on to many more.

It IS a beautiful week

Going a week past my due date is not easy.

People have expectations that I have not met.
They have schedules that I have complicated.
It's hard to walk.



When the delivery person asked if I was Amy and handed this to me, I was surprised and delighted. There was no name on the card, but the message was optimistic and happy and comforting. It is the most beautiful bouquet I've ever seen.

Thank you, secret-flower-sender.

Diaper Cream Does Double Duty

Parental Pride Inhibits Safety

Yesterday Jett pushed his chair into the kitchen and then picked it up and set it on the rug in front of the kitchen sink. It took him about five minutes to arrange the chair exactly how he wanted it.

Instead of stopping him, I ran to get my camera, because, look how smart my baby is! Look at his motor control! His climbing ability! His problem solving!



Then he did this, and instead of stopping him, I just stood there, impressed.



You have to wonder if I'm going to be smarter with the next one.

Cha-cha-cha

Is he running towards me or dancing to me? Doesn't matter, I'm game for either one.

Twenty-three Months

Happy Birthday, Jett! Yesterday you turned twenty-three months old.

(and now you pick out your own clothes)

What obsessions do you have this month, you ask? Oh the usual....

Elmo. What is it with Elmo and toddlers? You loved Elmo before you ever saw him on TV. You've never had an Elmo toy. You have two books where Elmo makes an appearance, and one Elmo sweatshirt, and that was enough to seal the addiction. Maybe it has something to do with that name. Elmo. It's so easy to say. And thanks to Tivo, Elmo is easy to watch.

(You also love playing with spoons - and water. But maybe the tongs aren't such a good idea).

Pushing the stroller. Or as you like to say, "Jett's car." You will push your umbrella stroller everywhere. Anywhere. In the grass, on the sidewalk, down the center of the street. Ironically, the only time you stop pushing the stroller is when we cross the street and cars are waiting for us. Then you stop half way across, look up at the car's fender, and are struck still - mesmerized by the shiny metal, I guess. Of course if we try to hurry you along by pushing the stroller ourselves, you throw a fit. If we pick you up, you throw a fit. As a result, we try to stay off the busy streets.



My favorite - jumping! You're jumping now! Jumping with two feet off the ground at the same time! You are so proud about it, you jump all over the place now - from your bedroom to the bathroom to your highchair, out of your highchair, to the couch, back to your bedroom. And the look on your face - one big, proud grin. I love it. You love it. On with the jumping!

(This isn't a picture of you jumping, just standing, but I love your wrinkly jeans, t-shirt, and shoes).

Jett, I could go on and on and on. You are a terrific kid. You keep up the fantasticness, and we'll keep trying to just keep up. Love you, happy kid!

Don't ask.

If you go out to dinner with your friends, and you come home to an exhausted and frustrated husband, you should not ask him how his night was, because you will not want to hear the answer.

You will not want to know that your child went to bed at 9:30 pm, after eating dinner at 8:00 pm, after refusing to come inside, after pushing his stroller all over the neighborhood, after the dad had to clean off the child's hand with the dad's own spit, after the child put his hand in somebody else's puke on the playground.

Thankfully this did not happen on Mother's Day.

Evening Conversation

Worth 399 pennies

This afternoon Jett and I walked to the drug store to buy some last-minute supplies for the baby. Translated, this means diaper cream for the baby, and handful of toys to keep Jett occupied for at least the first fifteen minutes after we bring the baby home.

At the drug store, in on of my many lapses of judgement, I bought Jett this.



If you would have seen his face, you would have bought it for him too. He tossed the Elmo coloring book out of the stroller for this. He asked for it nicely. His face lit up. He said something about Daddy. He clutched it in his hands the entire walk home.

It's a complete choking hazard, and both the reclining seat-back and the movable kickstand have fallen off already. It was a foolish purchase.

After dinner Jett and I sat down on the kitchen floor to take a careful look at the motorcycle. We spent ten minutes looking at it from every angle. Jett talked about it the entire time - I just wish I knew what he was saying. I don't think we've ever had a conversation as long as this one, and never a conversation as serious. I swear he was pointing out every part of the motorcycle to me. The spinning tires, the movable handlebars, the kickstand, the taillight, the headlight, the engine, the everything. We talked about the color, we ran it over the floor and over our legs and up the side of the trash can. We took it to the bathroom with us to brush our teeth, and he held on to it through his diaper change, his change in to his pajamas, and through his bedtime stories.

Through the four bedtime stories we read (actually, we read the same book four times, at Jett's request), I kept reminding him that he couldn't take the motorcycle to bed, he can only take books to bed. Whenever I said that, Jett would pick up the motocycle, tilt his chin down, and look over his eyelashes at me with a little sly smile. I was steeling myself for an argument.

Finally when it was time for Jett to get in his crib, I suggested that he say good night to the motorcycle and put it away. He smiled at me and didn't move. So I suggested that he give the motorcycle a good night kiss and then put it away. That's when he surpassed my wildest expectations and gave me something to brag about.

Oh the sweet kiss he gave his motorcycle, barely there. Then the way he looked at me, like the three of us - Jett, the motorcycle, and I - were sharing a sweet secret.

I couldn't have asked for more. He got up, opened his bedroom door, and set the motorcycle on the floor outside of his room. He took two steps back, waved his hand at the motorcycle, and said "Bye-bye, Mo."

Then I put him in his crib, he went right to sleep, and once again, despite my poor decision making, I get to feel like the best mom in the world.

What All the Stay-At-Home-Moms Know

No baby yet, but I've started my maternity leave. Even though I've always had my Fridays off to spend with Jett, there's something about having Monday and Tuesday off that really makes you feel like a stay at home mom. Or maybe it's the lessons I've learned in the last two days:

1. If you leave the house, there will be less mess to clean up at the end of the day.

2. If you go to the park after 4:00, it is going to be chaotic. This is because the park will be over run by eight and nine year olds in after-school programs. These eight and nine year olds will think nothing of running in to your almost two year old.

3. When there are that many unsupervised older kids at the park, parents of the little kids get nervous. Parents will take your child's hand and hurry him across the draw-bridge, even though you are standing right there, next to your child. They will also scold their own two-year-old for not saying "excuse me". It's just better to go to the park during school hours.

4. It it's 80 degrees out and your child wants to wear his winter cap outside, you might as well let him, because it's so darn cute. He'll take it off after 5 minutes anyway.

5. Bringing chalk to the playground is a great way to make friends, as long as you aren't particular about getting all of your chalk back.

What's for Dinner When Mom is Sick

cereal in a pot and a banana



It looks like Jett is enjoying this about as much as he'd enjoy a meal of asparagus and mushrooms, but actually he had fun stirring the cereal in the pot and pealing the banana by himself - which he did for the very first time. Elmo taught him that.

Recap

Or: What Can Happen When You are in Your Last Three Weeks of Pregnancy

1. You can get trapped under ground.
2. You can get inappropriately oggled.
3. Your stroller can get stolen.
4. You can get the flu.

Ok, I'm done complaining, that was the end of it.

Future posts will be all about Jett. Happiness coming soon.

Stolen

Last weekend we bought a double stroller. It has a lot of bells and whistles and is kind of an indulgence, so it took a long time for us to decide to buy it. Hours of internet research and then three hours in the store, to be exact.

The store we bought it from is a toy store in a fancy mall on Michigan Ave. They have great customer service there, and tons of strollers set up for you to try out and push around. Still, we didn't think it would take that long to decide which one to buy. I had resigned myself to a much less-expensive stroller - but thank goodness the less expensive stroller wouldn't fit a newborn. Then I had an excuse to look at the higher-end strollers.

So Charlie manages Jett in the store while I start quizzing the stroller guy on the strollers - weight, width, which can hold both a newborn and a toddler, how easy they are to fold, etc. After about 45 minutes, Charlie and I switch. I occupy Jett at the train table and Charlie test drives all of the strollers.

I'm telling you, it is insane how much time you can spend picking out a stroller.

It's also insane that there is no perfect stroller out there. The one that is narrowest (so it can fit through a doorway) might have the most useless sunshade. The lightest stroller is the hardest to fold. So even before you've purchased a stroller, you're already prioritizing some crucial stroller feature over another equally crucial feature. I know, I know, this sounds insane. I think we spent less time agonizing over our car.

Anyway, after we had both checked out the strollers we eat lunch at Potbelly's to mull it all over. Then again we take turns - one of us rides up and down the escalators with Jett while the other one checks out our top choices. The rest of our decision making process happens in 30 second intervals, between the time that Jett steps off the down escalator and steps on to the up escalator. I think we spent 30 minutes talking in 30 second intervals.

The stroller is fab. It's easy to fold. It will carry two toddlers or a toddler and a newborn. But it's no bigger than a single stroller. Which means when we went to the zoo the next day, we fit through the doors of the primate house with hardly any effort. Steering is dreamy. It floats over small boulders and dances around corners and Jett likes it.

I spent the weekend visualizing my summer with this stroller. The baby laying down, sleeping peacefully, Jett up front, rocking his favorite outfit: pajama shirt, diaper, and shoes, and me, glam mom, walking to the park with my babes in my practical yet glam urban stroller.

Then yesterday, in the middle of the day, I parked my daydreamy stroller behind a closed gate, on my sister-in-law's porch, for 45 minutes, and somebody stole it.

I think the CTA stole my stroller. It was making them look bad.

Head Banging the Baby

Book Lover

First Picnic of the Year

In the school yard, across the street.

Inappropriate Response

Tuesday morning on the way to work I was trapped underground for two hours. It was hot, dirty, and dark. You may have heard about it. Mechanical problems on a train in front of ours.

Thankfully I had a seat, a magazine, and cell phone reception. Actually, a number of people on my train car were thankful for my cell phone reception. Most importantly, I thank god that I didn't have to pee.

When they finally told us we could leave the train we had to walk along a narrow walkway about 6 feet above the train tracks - but still underground. It was flithy. And dark. And there was debris on the walkway. And I'm 36 weeks pregnant, which meant that someone carried my backpack for me and less people complained when my back-pack carrying friend insisted that I cut in front of most people standing in line, waiting to get out of the train tunnel. Pregnancy has it's privelages.

We had to climb up a winding, wet, dirty, staircase. Then we had to climb up a ladder and through a hole in the sidewalk that is usually covered by a grate that requires the fire department to open.

So Tuesday morning I got on the bus at say 7:50 or 8:00 and made it through the hole that opened up onto the side walk at 10:15. I got to work by 10:45, after walking the rest of the way there.

Then the president of the CTA blamed the riders for the fact that it took so long to rescue us from a sealed capsule in the middle of the earth. Classy.

At the end of the day a friend and I got home by sharing a cab.

Wednesday morning I got back on the train and surprise, surprise, it was practically empty compared to rush hour standards. How the rest of the usual train riders got to work I do not know, but I should have been with them. I sit down in an aisle seat facing forward, about 3 rows back from a door, in the middle of the train. This guy gets on at the third stop and still, no one is standing in the aisles, there is still lots of room on the train. But this dude walks up to my seat, kneels down next to it, rests his forearm on my chair, wraps his other arm around his knees so that his fingers are almost touching my bare legs (I'm wearing a skirt today, of course) and looks at me. I am completely pissed because I already had to deal with the CTA yesterday and now this? Are you kidding me? Two days in a row of feeling unsafe on the CTA?

I scoot over in my seat away from the kneeling dude, which means I'm totally invading the space of the guy next to me who is just trying to read his book. I apologize, he sees what's going on, says it's ok, and goes back to reading. Apparently I have to handle this one by myself, which doesn't phase me. I'm so angry now I'm pretty sure I could handle anything thrown at me. I look at the kneeling creep and ask him to stand up please and he just looks at me. I ask him again, all stern and scolding like an angry school marm, and he looks at me like he can kneel wherever he wants, but then he gets up and walks away. No one around me gives any indication that they even saw what transpired, but how could they not? I don't turn around to watch him walk away, and don't see him again on the train or the platform, when I get off two stops later. The rest of the ride I'm silently fuming because as angry and mighty as I am I've had enough of feeling threatened on the CTA.

Then that afternoon a guy from the claims department at the CTA called to get my address so they can send me a claim form to get my coat cleaned. They had noticed the dirty pregnant woman climbing up the ladder and on to the sidewalk and stopped long enough to get my name and phone number. They wanted my address too, but since the CTA employee didn't introduce himself or tell me why he wanted my information, I initially refused to give it to him. Seriously, do they think I'm going to give a stranger my address? Anyway, they were more professional on the phone. They also asked if the baby is ok, which he is as far as I can tell. Nice follow through, I guess. But I'm still pissed.

Wednesday evening I take the bus home from work. I remember when I get home that I had told Jett that I would take him for a ride on the bus. So we head back into the beautiful day to give the Chicago Transit Authority one more chance.

We wait at the corner. And wait at the corner. And wait at the corner, and no bus shows up, although about 542 buses pass us going the other way, which drives Jett crazy because he can't understand why we aren't getting on those buses. But those buses don't lead to the park.

We finally walk west to the nearest major cross road and get on a bus there. Jett is so excited. He hops up onto the bus, I pay our fare, and the bus goes one block before Jett starts panicking and wants to get off. He slides off of his seat, still holding my hand, and drags me to the door, making his panic noises the entire time. I don't know why he is so panicked all of a sudden, but I don't blame him. How could I argue with him?

We get off the bus one block later and walk three blocks home in relative peace, shaking the CTA boogey-monsters off our shoulders.

It's a beautiful day. We enjoy the fresh air and the feel of our feet on the sidewalk. When we get home we'll eat dinner and sit on the couch together and watch Sesame Street. We'll brush our teeth and put on pajamas and fall asleep to the glow of nightlights and the sound of the dishwasher.

Tomorrow we'll wake up and we won't go anywhere that isn't in walking distance.

Twenty-two Months

Happy Birthday, Jett. Yesterday you turned 22 months old.

You are so brave now.
This weekend you wanted to ride your toy truck, which was not meant to be ridden but you somehow manage it, off the couch and I almost let you. If you could have seen the adventurous look in your eyes, you would understand why. Your gleaming eyes are hypnotizing and they make me want to indulge your every desire.

But it is still so hard.
You say so many words and you know a good handful of signs, but still half the time we don't know what you want. That makes for a lot of little cranky moments throughout each day, and some major meltdowns. But sometimes, sometimes everything clicks. And when things click while we have guests over, well that is especially delicious.

Tonight we had friends over for dinner and your behavior was fabulous. You ate all of your peas - you haven't done that in weeks. You had seconds of corn. You ate cottage cheese without throwing any on the floor. You drank your water without asking for milk, and you didn't whine to get our of your chair when you were finished. Then you brushed your teeth when I asked, gave everyone a good night kiss, let me change your diaper, put on your pajamas, and just hopped in to your crib without even taking a book to bed with you. And all in front of company! Oh, I felt like the best momma ever.

I think I'm catching on.
So...so maybe you don't want to change your diaper now. Or brush your teeth now. Or take a bath now. But if I just give you 10 minutes...and am willing to change your diaper while you stand up, and let you brush your teeth yourself, and put bubbles in the bath...you'll come around.

And maybe you don't want a hug right now...but if we play blocks for a few minutes, and build a big tower, you'll jump in to it to knock it over and lay in my lap, and rest your head on my legs, and let me build a tower on your belly.

I'm catching on to you, my sweet little enigma. You and me, we've got a good thing going.

Happy Birthday. We love you.

Happy Birthday Charlie

This post is a few days late...sorry Charlie.

Charlie's birthday was a good day from the start. We ventured out to the park for a picnic lunch. When we were done eating, Jett took Charlie's hand and led him off to the jungle gym for some serious climbing and sliding.



The boys in repose.



I think later Jett had a melt down because we let him skip his nap, so we had to put him to bed at 6pm. But then Charlie's mom came over and did our laundry while Jett slept and Charlie and I went out to eat. I ordered rootbeer at the bar and the bartender cracked up and asked, "You mean, the regular good old fashioned rootbeer?" I said, "Yeah, like the one listed on your menu?" Obviously the bar was blocking his view of my belly. Then we walked home and ate angel food cake, which Charlie's mom frosted in chocolate for us. It was a good day.

Where the Air is Sweet

I remember watching Sesame Street when I was kid and thinking that I was missing out because pigeons never came to sit on my windowsill like they did for Bert. I don't think I ever even saw pigeons unless we were on vacation.

Today Jett and I walked around the neighborhood (sans stroller) for about 45 minutes. The only way I got him to walk in the direction I wanted was to tell him that if he walked this way we would see some pigeons. He's so lucky - he has all the pigeons he could ever want. Unfortunately that means that I'm soon going to have to come up with a new tactic for getting him to walk in the direction I want.



Later I needed Jett to get in the car, but he only wanted to stand on the sidewalk and look at the car. Then an older couple passed us on the sidewalk and I had the good sense to ask them to ask Jett to get in the car. From the sidewalk the man pointed at my open car door and in Spanish, politely told Jett to get in. Jett looked stunned, but followed directions.

What I Learned Last Weekend

1. Not swearing can make you feel like a hero.

Sunday Jett and I hit the park at 9:00 am. After a while Jett came back to his favorite activity from last summer: pushing the stroller (which he calls "car"). I made the mistake of letting him push the stroller out of the park and on towards home. The mistake was obvious immediately, when he wanted to push the stroller on to the street with all of the other cars.

He pushed and pushed his stroller, but the poor kid couldn't get it past me. He cried, he whined, he slumped down on the sidewalk, sweaty, winded, and angry. I suggested that he sit in the stroller, but with that threat he hopped up, and I, fearing that he would bolt in to traffic, scooped him up and slam dunked him into the seat of the umbrella stroller.

Those stupid, useless restraining straps on the stroller. They were nice and relaxed - all pulled out perfectly for a nice and relaxed Jett, who doesn't need any restraining because he is so pleased to sit pretty in the stroller. Those stupid straps weren't doing their job. It was their time to shine and they didn't even know it, hanging all limp and lifeless around Jett's flailing legs and wriggling waist. Jett had half his body out from under them in no time.

As I wrestled him back in the stroller I could feel parents looking at me, and I didn't blame them. We were a sight to behold and a noise to avoid. Jett was a mess of tears, sweat, and snot. I had one forearm across his chest, pressing him in to the stroller, one foot searching for the brakes on the rear wheels to keep the stroller from moving, and both hands slowly, ever so slowly, feeding the buckles of the stroller straps back towards the seat of the stroller, one little nylon ripple at a time....

2. Tantrums can start and stop without warning.

As soon as I got the straps just tight enough to keep Jett from sliding out of the stroller to a dangerous degree, I kissed Jett on the head and started pushing my sweaty, red-faced, snot-covered, tear-stained baby home. Two steps in to this walk Jett cheerily announces "all done!" and chats with me all the way home. As if two seconds ago he wasn't tearfully announcing to every parent and child on the playground that I was preventing him from fulfilling his reasonable and otherwise attainable lifelong dream of playing Frogger on Damen Avenue.

Is he kidding me?

3. No, he is not kidding.

He will walk an entire mile, while pushing a stroller, two days in a row - as long as you let him dictate exactly where he will walk.



Now if only I could fit in the stroller....

Hugs

Why I Only Remember the Last 15 Minutes of Each Day

No, we have to change your diaper before you can play.
No, we have to change your diaper, I think you are leaking through.
No, you can not roll around on the changing table like that.
No, because that is poop!
No, now you have to take a bath.

No, you can not watch a Baby Einstein video, it is only 7:30 in the morning.
No, you can not watch a Baby Einstein video, it is only 7:31 in the morning.
No, you can not watch Elmo on the computer, it is only 7:32 in the morning.
No, I know you've been asking for an hour, but we are not turning on the tv yet.

No, do not throw your chicken nuggets on the floor.
No, I did not eat your last chicken nugget, that was your second-to-last chicken nugget, your last chicken nugget is on the floor.
No, you can not have it back, that is impossible.

Yes, it is time to brush your teeth - did you just walk right in to the bathroom?
Yes, it is time to put on your pajamas - are you smiling?
Yes, of course we can read one more book.
Yes, you are awfully cute when we get to this part in the book.
Yes, I will give you a kiss and a hug and a high-five and the rock.
Yes, I love you too. Good night.

Frustration

Conversation between Jett and me when I get home from work:

Jett: Baby!

Me: You want to play with your baby?

Jett: Baby!

Me: Where is your baby?

Jett: Baby!

Me: (Finds doll in crib). Here's your baby! Do you want to hold the baby?

Jett: (Points at TV in obvious frustration). Baby!

Me: Oh. You want to watch Baby Einstein. Great.

Jett: (Climbs up on to couch. Pushes one pillow towards end of couch). Mama! (Puts one pillow on his lap). Jett! Baby!

Me: (Turn on Baby Einstein video. Think it's so sweet that Jett wants me to sit next to him on the couch. Lay down on couch next to Jett. One hair on my head touches Jett's leg).

Jett: No! Mama, No! (Pushes me away, as if he is in pain). Off!

Happy Easter

I hope you all had a happy Easter. We did, even though so many of our minutes were used up wiping Jett's nose, eyes, and covering his mouth when he coughed. But that's kind of the standard around here so we won't dwell on it.

Otherwise we had a fabulous weekend. Jett and Charlie swam in the hotel pool. Actually, Jett spent most of his time walking up and down the steps into the pool, first waving to Grandma and Grandpa, then gripping my hand to get in to the pool, and finally gripping Charlie's hand to step down to the last two steps. He let Charlie walk into the pool with him, and Jett had fun hanging out in Charlie's arms for a while. But the pool was small and there were lots of kids, and after a few rides in Charlie's arms, Jett was pretty confident that he could swim over to those other kids without anyone's help. He used one hand to try to push Charlie away, and the other hand to grip his shoulder so he wouldn't actually leave him alone in the water. Oh, the drama!

On Easter day we visited the Garfield Park Conservatory, which is the only place in Chicago that feels like Spring. The flowers were blooming, the fern room was humid and warm, and Jett, seeming to appreciate everything, walked through all of it while holding my hand, which was a pretty sweet Easter present.

Our Easter had a few traditional elements too. Like Easter baskets! Jett loved his basket from Grandma and Grandpa, mostly because Jett pulled from it a zip-up bag with Elmo's face on it - ELMO! and inside the bag were three toy cars - CARS! He is sleeping with two of those cars right now, and after Charlie and I left his room tonight we heard him saying good-night to them.

Jett and Ellie hunted for Easter eggs this afternoon, and even though it only took about 2 minutes to hide the eggs, we put twice as much effort in to hiding the eggs as Jett and Ellie did in finding them. They did however, like throwing them.

Happy Easter!

The best Easter eggs have Cookie Monster inside them.

COOKIE MONSTER!

Still Drawing in the Cardboard Box

Remember when I put Jett in a cardboard box and gave him a bunch of crayons to keep him company? That box has avoided a trip to the recycling bin because it is still Jett's pallet of choice.

The reason it has lasted so long is because we only use washable crayons, and washable crayons come off of everything, including cardboard. So, Jett draws a picture, invariably sits down on the picture, and literally ends up wiping off the picture with his bum, leaving blank space on which to draw a new picture.

Every morning the first thing Jett does when he gets out of his crib is walk over to the cardboard box and ask for the crayons (by pointing and saying "na!"). Then he hands me a crayon and tells me to sit. Then he hands Charlie a crayon and tells him to sit. We all sit and draw until one of us gets hungry enough to eat, or has to leave to go to work. It's our morning routine.

Anecdotal Evidence

If you've been reading these posts periodically since December, you know that Jett has had a runny nose off and on since then. Sometimes it's seemed like a legitimate cold, and other times it seemed more like an allergy. How can I tell the difference? Because he keeps itching his face.

He takes the back of his hand and wipes it, obsessively, across his eyes, his ears, his mouth, his nose. It just looks like his face itches. This is especially problematic because it isn't easy to keep this kid's nails short enough to prevent him from scratching himself on the eyelid, cheek, and nose. You'd think with nails that long that he'd just itch his face with his fingers like the rest of us might - who knows why he uses the soft skin on the back of his hands to itch his face, but he does, and it looks, well, bothersome.

Some people named Charlie might say that he doesn't use the back of his hands to itch his face because, simply, he is not itching his face. He just has a habit of wiping his face - every feature of his face - with the back of his hand. But if you were named Charlie and that was what you said you would be wrong.

Anyway, sometimes his eyelids are puffy (no, not from all the rubbing, they were puffy before the rubbing). And sometimes his scalp itches. And his nose is almost always runny. And besides, our doctor said it sounds like an allergy and why not try liquid zyrtec, they sell it over the counter now, by the way.

I go to the store to get the zyrtec, but there isn't any infant zyrtec, only children's zyrtec, and that is not for kids under 2. Plus it says it makes kids sleepy, and our doctor said it was non-sedating. I think that I must be looking at the wrong medicine, so I go home, get online, and search for infant zyrtec, which I soon realize doesn't exist.

But what does exist is a website called askthepatient.com or something like that - I can't remember if that is the exact url or not, and I don't want to go back to that website anyway. But I will tell you about it.

It's a website where people can post about their success or lack of success using any number of medicines, including children's zyrtec. I know I shouldn't visit this website. I know it is going to be full of wackos who blame their medication for everything from their caffeine addiction to their cat's shedding problem. But still, I visit the site anyway, and yes, that is exactly what I find.

Except when I start reading about the children's zyrtec, and nearly every parent who writes in with a cautionary tale has the same cautionary tale. Behavioral problems, intense itching and withdrawal when their child stopped taking it. More behavioral problems. There were comments from parents whose kids had great success with zyrtec, but still. This website was slowly starting to sound less wacky and more consistent. Of course, maybe it was just consistent in it's wackiness. That is really the question, isn't it?

Actually, the question I was concerned with was, Am I wacky for taking these accounts into consideration? Or wacky for not taking them in to consideration? Will my pediatrician move me to her mental list of crazy parents if I tell her I'm concerned about something I read from a bunch of strangers on the internet? Or will she consider me a dutiful parent?

You might think it's silly to worry about what your pediatrician will think of you, but it is not. I want my pediatrician to want to spend as much time talking to me as possible. If I come across as crazy, Jett's going to get stuck with the grumpy nurses and the cold stethoscope, just to get me out of the office as quick as possible. I know doctors must have their ways of dealing with difficult parents, and I do not want to know what they are.

So after multiple obsessive conversations about this with Charlie and anyone else who happened to walk in my line of vision during those 24 hours, I left a message for my doctor, telling her what I read online (and hoping she wasn't rolling her eyes at my anecdotal research) and wondering if we shouldn't just stick with the clarinex that Jett has used before (and which I couldn't find any anecdotal information on at all - ignorance is bliss I guess). Then I spent the next eight hours biting my fingernails, waiting for her to call back. And then she did.

And guess what? She just heard similar information about zyrtec from an allergist. In fact, she just took her own daughter off zyrtec (for a different reason) and was watching for withdrawal symptoms. Relief.

Oh, but the story does not end there. Of course I get Jett's clarinex prescription filled, and then don't see him itch his face for three days. Not one drip of snot leaves his nose. His eyelids aren't pink or puffy. He is sleeping great, and I've wasted two hours of time reading that goofy discussion board, 24 hours fretting about the phone call with his doctor, and $23 buying his clarinex. Great. I consider dusting the entire house while he stands directly under every piece of furniture, and then asking him to shake out the dust cloth for me when I'm finished, just to get his juices flowing, but it's Sunday and I'm feeling too lazy for all that work.

But finally, to my great relief, Sunday evening produces puffy eyelids and a runny nose without me having to lift a finger. Out comes the clarinex. His nose was runny again this morning and this evening, so he got more clarinex tonight. I'm keeping a written record of his symptoms to see if this medicine is really working or not. But I don't know what I'm hoping for.

What do we want at this point? More allergy symptoms, to vindicate myself and my efforts? Allergy symptoms that come back when he stops taking the clarinex in two weeks, so at least we know the clarinex is working? Or an absence of allergies, so you know, Jett doesn't have to have them?

This is where I live my life now - midway between madness and making sense. I think I need my own discussion board, where I can vent about my own child's symptoms or lack of symptoms, or slight change of symptoms, or....

oh yeah. right.

Twenty One Months

Happy Birthday, Jett! Last week you turned 21 months old.


My favorite memory of you this month is from just a few nights ago. Daddy and I were putting you to bed. We had finished changing your diaper, and had wrestled you into your pajamas. Now we were sitting on the floor, reading books. You had laid out the rules like you do every night - assigning each of us, including yourself, a book to read. You are so adamant about these rules. Here they are:

1. We each must sit on the floor with a book in our lap, and we must read the book.
2. If a book sits on my lap unopened, you will open it.
3. If I wait too long between turning the pages, you will reach over and turn the page for me.
4. We must all read our books at the same time.
5. The first person to start reading their book aloud has the floor...
6. Unless you change your mind and give the floor to someone else.
7. You will designate who does not have the floor by placing your hand over that person's mouth and saying "No Nahnning," which translates to, "Stop talking."
8. No matter who else is talking, you always have the floor.

But this night was different. This night you felt like rolling over on to the floor. But I am a good mama, and I follow the rules, so I kept reading. So you start squirming around on the floor, but I keep reading. So you keep squirming, and start laughing. I look over at you, and you have this glint in your eye, and I know where this is going.

I know you are begging for a tickle, a wrestle, a zerbert on your belly, and I give in. Then just as I start to wind you down again, Daddy gets in on the action, and soon you are flying like a plane in the air, turning flips, sliding down his back. You're overjoyed, we're all laughing, and even though I'm loving the moment, I'm wondering how we're ever going to get you to bed. But just at that moment, we all end up stretched out on the floor, breathless, as if we had planned it; your head resting on my leg, my head on Daddy's shoulder. Then as calm as a cucumber, you slide up next to me, turn over on your tummy, and finish reading your book.

Thank you, Jett. Thanks for surprising me in almost always good ways.



Happy Birthday. We love you.

Architect in Training

Interpretive Dance

Those are some great name suggestions - awesome. In an effort to thank you all for your creative thinking, Jett wanted to show you a little creativity of his own.



Thanks again. If you think of any more good names, just let me know.

What? You say I could have mentioned this 28 weeks ago?

Mention what? That to see my feet I have to look in the mirror?

Yep, there's a baby in there! It's a boy! He needs a name! Any suggestions?

Runny Nose and his friend, Scary Cough

Since December 17th, Jett has been snot-free for 14 days. We hadn't bought kleenex for two weeks until last Monday, when the Sniffles struck again, this time bringing their friend, Cough. As a result, we spend a considerable amount of time playing in the steamy bathroom, hoping the steam will trick all of the snot out of Jett's nose, and trick his cough into taking it easy already. The bathroom is now a playroom, and we run a hot shower while we're in it, even though no one is taking a shower, and yes, I know what that is doing to the environment. The bathroom/playroom setup has some benefits: as you saw in the last post, Jett now takes showers, I guess because you can only play next to a running shower for so long before you want to play in it; it's easier to get him to brush his teeth, since we're already playing near his toothbrush anyway; and I get to sit lazily on the floor while spending quality time with my baby. In this picture we're watching a video of him on my phone.

Showers

Jett takes them now.

It's Only OK if it's Grandma

Jett's Grandma H was here this weekend. One afternoon she and I came home after a few hours of shopping. As soon as we walked in Jett came running, smiling towards us, with arms outstretched and a big sloppy kiss ready to leap off his face. I started to bend down to receive his greeting, but he kept on running, right past me, and plastered himself to my mom's knees.

I think later that afternoon he made it up to me by throwing a block at my forehead.

Recalls

Remember a couple of days ago, in this post, when I mentioned that Jett and I spent a few hours at Barnes and Noble, and during some of those hours he played with Thomas the Tank Engine, which was set up on a big train track table? Well I find out today, through this article in the Tribune, that the toys have been recalled because of lead paint. It doesn't take long to pull up corroborating evidence online. Sure, the pictures in this article show the red trains, and if I remember correctly, the trains that Jett was playing with were blue, but honestly, I can't be certain. Besides, you can see from the second article that the first recall was later expanded to include more train cars, so how are you to believe that any toy is safe?

Aside from the dangers of lead-based paint, did you know that there are chemicals that are used in plastic toys that are banned from teething toys? These chemicals are approved for use in toys that aren't considered teething toys. That includes some baby bottles. That makes total sense, because Jett never puts anything except teething toys in his mouth.

Twenty Months

Happy Birthday, Jett! Today you are twenty months old.



This month you grew tall enough for us to turn your car seat around. You can finally face forward. You're all chatty back there now, babbling away so much that I risk car-sickness to turn around and talk to you. But more often than not, you fall fast asleep, sippy cup slipping out of your hand, head leaning against the side of your seat, looking so sweet, not reminding me that I need to keep. my. eyes. on. the. road.



I started taking you to Gymboree class this month, and you love it. You especially love it when we get there early, so you have time to hold my hand and walk around the perimeter of the room five times before the class starts. We've learned two important things during these Friday morning dates. First, bring a snack. This is not because you are going to be hungry after class, but because every other kid there will be eating a snack as soon as the class gets out. I resisted this for the first few weeks and while all of the other kids were putting on their coats and boots, I was chasing you around, keeping you from swiping all of the other kids' fishies. I hated succumbing to the peer pressure of bringing a snack just because all of the other parents brought snacks, but last week I gave in, and it was worth every plastic baggy I could pack full of crackers. I felt fine...until I heard the poor snackless mom behind me trying to convince her son that he could eat when he got home. I bet she brings snacks this week. The other important lesson we've learned from Gymboree is that everything should happen with a song, and if possible, a sticker at the end. At Gymboree, you move from one activity to another with a song. Now at home, we move from playing to putting away toys with a song. We move from putting away toys to brushing our teeth with a song. We move from brushing our teeth to putting on pajamas with a song. We must be the most annoying household in the universe and it is all Gymboree's fault. But you know what? There is a lot less whining during the singing - at least for now. I fully expect that my singing will lose it's appeal in about five more days.



Another big discovery this month was the TV. Now it's not like you've never watched TV before, it's just that you never asked to watch it before. But a few weeks ago, when your cold was at it's worst, I let you watch a 30 minute video before your nap, and a 30 minute video after your nap, and that was enough to convince you that television can save your life. Honestly, sometimes I agree with you.



This month you lost your great-grandma, Elaine Elizabeth Hall. She was a good grandma, and you didn't see enough of her during these twenty months. But she loved flowers, and she loved you, and I think she would have loved this picture.

Happy Birthday, Jett. We love you.

Happy Birthday, Mama!

Last week was my birthday. To celebrate, last night Charlie and I ate at the Chop House (I recommend the chocolate cake for dessert) and then went to see Hephaestus at the Looking Glass Theater. Hephaestus was amazing and I highly recommend it if you don't mind watching acrobats walk the tightrope without a safety net. It's a small theater, and we sat in the balcony, so our seats were eye-level with the tightrope. The 90-minute show was over way too fast, but since my hands were sweating through at least half the show, I should be thankful it didn't last any longer. It was a great way to spend a birthday. Jett spent the evening with his aunt Jenny, and he had as much fun as we did, but without all the hand-sweating.

Earlier this weekend I wanted to burn through some birthday spending money, and Jett wanted to throw some books off the shelves, so we spent a couple of hours at Barnes and Noble. Until yesterday I didn't realize that they have a Thomas the Train set up to run on a train table, and story time, and everything. But Jett and every other kid at the store spent most of their time taking up each other's personal space in the musical book aisle.

Musical books are so cool. They have buttons on the cover that play music when you push them. There are no volume controls, so you never have to worry about the books being too quiet, and each book plays the perfect amount of songs, so once you memorize them after the first couple of read-throughs, they stay burned in to your eardrums forever.

So while that birthday money was burning a hole in my pocket, Jett sat down and shared his book with the little boy sitting next to him and then he pointed to a baby and said "Baby!" and then he looked up and saw Elmo's face on a book, and said "Elmo!" and then having such a kind, smart, and talkative baby was all too much, and I bought a $25 squawking book like it was a good idea.

When we got home Jett pulled the musical component off (it still works though) and then tore two pages out of the book. But then he took a 90 minute nap without fussing, so I think we're even.

Jett and my birthday flowers. Thanks, Jett!

Evil Mittens

Today I pulled Jett in a sled around the neighborhood, and then I planted his face in the snow, twice in a row. Now he refuses to wear his mittens (because when he tried to brush the snow off of his face, as he cried hysterically, his mittens were also covered in snow, taking his hysterics up a notch). Evil mittens. So, no more mittens. He also refuses to sit in the sled. This won't be much of a problem the rest of the winter, since we don't have many opportunities to go out in the sled, and there are no sledding hills in walking distance. However, when you are three blocks from home and your 19-month old refuses to ride in the sled, refuses to be carried, and can barely lift his feet above the height of the snow, it is...it is a long walk home.

Also, it doesn't help when you are walking at the same speed as the mail carrier and your child wants to stop and wait for the mail carrier at every building. And the mail carrier cluck-clucks her tongue at you for not putting mittens on your child, and letting him touch the metal bars of the gate, because, geesh his hands must be so cold. Whatever, lady. You should have seen his face five minutes ago. Now that was cold.

Manners

Ah, family meal time - sort of. During the week Jett eats breakfast with Charlie, lunch with our nanny, and dinner with me. He takes breakfast and lunch in his highchair, but he prefers to eat dinner at the table. I don't mind sitting with him at the table, except the chairs are too small and the table is too short, and there's permanent trail of crumbs leading from the kitchen to the table.

Still, mealtimes are slowly becoming a little less work, except for the fact that they last for so long. Jett and I generally sit at the table together for an hour and a half. After more than an hour of eating dinner tonight I finally cleared away his plate and brought out the ice cream, knowing that he would eat that up quickly and we could get on to playing.

Even though I end up sitting in a cramped toddler seat for 90 minutes every night, at least I don't have to get up out of the chair very often any more. Thankfully he's finally stopped walking away from the table while he's eating and he doesn't slide off of his chair too often any more either. I've started bringing a washcloth to the table because he likes his hands to be clean while he eats now, although this is pretty difficult since he also prefers to eat with his hands. I might not have to get out of the chair at all if I remember to turn on music before I sit down (he usually requests a little dinner music while he eats).

Clean up isn't so bad either. When he has finished eating he wipes down the table and floor and then pushes our kitchen stool into the bathroom so he can play in the water in the bathroom sink - I mean so he can wash his hands.

The most demanding part of the meal? He almost always requests that I place a napkin in his lap - and replace it every time it falls off. I think you can see it in the picture below.

Gym-gym-boree

More Bedtime Sillies

We've gotten in to the habit of reading Calvin and Hobbes before bed. Honestly, I don't know why Jett likes it so much. It's a difficult book to follow along with, and I don't think he gets all the jokes. But Jett loves it, and sometimes we let him take the book to bed. The other morning we woke up and he was reading the book to his stuffed animals. We put the rest in his crib with him, to give him the proper audience. (Yes, he requested that we put the Cubs hat on his head, and yes, he often likes to wear the sleeve of my pajamas around his neck like that).

What Jett Took To Bed Tonight

The cut off sleeve of my pajama top, which he has been sleeping with for months.
His Cubs hat.
His blue scarf.
His yellow scarf.
Charlie's Calvin and Hobbes comic book.
A sippy cup with about two swallows worth of water in it.

Museum

I found out from my friend Katie that the Museum of Science and Industry is free right now. So today, on one of the coldest days of the year, Jett and I ventured out. Charlie was home sick, so it was just Jett and me. It was a last-minute decision to go, and as we drove there I felt strangely proud getting out of the house and navigating my way to the museum just to give Jett an outing.

driving the tractor

Anyway, the museum was a hit. First of all, there are a ton of stairs in that place, which is awesome if one of your goals is to wear out your toddler. Secondly, there are live baby chicks there, which you might find incredibly sweet even though your toddler prefers the drawings of the chicks to the real thing. But best of all, the museum is full of buttons that you are supposed to push. In fact, if you are a toddler, it is your duty to push those buttons. As usual, Jett shouldered his responsibilities well.