Obsess Much?

This post is all about me obsessing over Max's verbal skills, so if you want to stop reading now, I won't take it personally (plus, I won't even know). I mentioned yesterday (seems like it was a long time ago) that I made an appointment for Max's 18 month checkup. His pediatrician told us that this was an "optional" checkup, as no vaccines are required, just a developmental checkup. Specifically, she said that if we were concerned about his vocabulary we should bring him in at 18 months, otherwise wait until 24 months. I have had some concerns about Max's verbal skills because he really has not been much of a talker. I find myself continuing to question whether it's possible that he has a speech delay because there are so many sources of guidance on these things with so much conflicting information (um, I've read everything from "an 18 month old should be able to say 3-10 words" to "an 18 month old should be able to say at least 10 recognizable words" to "an 18 month old should have a few dozen words in his/her vocabulary").

So I started thinking about the words that Max actually says and the sounds he makes that should count as words but that most people wouldn't understand (not that everyone we meet has any reason to know that when he says "pah" he means paci or that when he says "bah" and points at something that means he wants it). Then there are all the words that he's said repeatedly for only a few days, never to be uttered again (outside, duck, book). And the ones he's said a couple of times but doesn't use regularly (no, bear, eyes, pot, "dah" for dog). And the ones he said very clearly one time only (cookie, ostrich, paper). If I count all the sounds that mean the same thing as words (usually, it's making the first sound of the word but not saying the whole word) then Max says about 12 words on a regular basis. We are only guaranteed to hear four of them several times a day (yeah/yes, bye, pah, bah). He only says a few words clearly enough that the average person who doesn't see him super often would probably understand (bye, yeah/yes, key, hot, oh, mama, daddy; no, bear, whoa, pot, and eyes are pretty clear when he chooses to say them). Most of the time, Max prefers the point and grunt method of communication anyway.

So maybe I really don't have anything to worry about. But when all the other moms you meet are bragging about how their kid is combining words and has over a 50 word vocabulary, and other kids at daycare tell you bye bye more clearly and more enthusiastically than your own does (and when they call you "mommy" when your kid has not yet gotten beyond "mama"), you can't help but worry about it.

I'm sort of looking forward to this checkup, if for nothing more than to allay my fears. And to get more pesky, persistent rashes looked at.

Really? It's Only Lunchtime?

Things I did before noon today:

• Woke up, took a shower, got dressed. Did not blow dry my hair.
• Unloaded the dishwasher.
  
• Got Max up, in a fresh diaper, dressed, fed (Cheerios and 1/2 a banana), changed again, and packed off to daycare.
  
• Met Dr. V. at Starbucks to go over the very few and very minor revisions still to do on Chapter 2 (formerly known as Chapter 1) of my dissertation. Then he told me to send it out to all but one of my committee members. Yay, progress!
• Did two loads of laundry (ok, the second load is still in the dryer).
• Baked a loaf of bread (from frozen dough that I thawed in the fridge).
• Shaped hamburger buns for dinner tonight and left them on the counter to rise (I just took them out of the oven, so they weren't finished before noon).
  
• Got some exercise in the park ("exercise" was intended to be jogging but ended up as mostly brisk walking).
• Took a shower. Because exercise is sweaty business. Especially in 90 degree heat.
• Made an appointment for Max's 18 month checkup (Eeek! He'll be 1 1/2 next week! Then I'll feel stupid telling people his age in months and just have to say he's 1 1/2!).
• Finished revising the Methods section of Chapter 3 (formerly known as Chapter 2) of my dissertation.
• Wallowed just a little in the fact that my baby has been in the world for almost a year and a half and is entirely too giant.

I had lunch (a boring turkey sandwich, but it was on yummy fresh baked bread) after noon, so that doesn't make the list. Also, in case you were wondering, I did not get up at 3 a.m. to accomplish all that. I got up at 6:15 as usual. It seems that either I am doing AWESOME in the time management department today or Thursday Next's dad paid me a visit and stopped time for a while (see The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde if you don't get the reference; then read the rest of the series 'cause it's really amusing if you're into funny, satirical, sci-fi-ish books full of literary references).

Now, is it naptime yet?

I Know I'm a Psycho Bee-otch Sometimes...

But I'd like to think that I'm not a completely ungrateful one (more on that in a bit). And also? I REALLY need a break from my in-laws for a while. We have seen them so many times lately (EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND for at least 5 weeks plus a few times during the week) that I am quickly reaching my breaking point. And guess what? They want to come over again TODAY. Do they not know that it's Friday and NOT a holiday? Actually, they wanted to come over and get Max and take him to the Bass Pro Shop (which, incidentally, is BETWEEN their house and ours and probably about 30-40 minutes from our house). Shall I say "WTF?" Um, yeah. I shall. WTF?

We've already been through all of this. So suffice it to say that I'm a possessive psycho bitch who flat out refuses to let ANYONE take her toddler away from her. Even if it's his grandparents and only for a couple of hours. I'm sure it's crossed your mind that perhaps I wouldn't react so defensively to the idea of my own mother taking Max shopping without me (or Chad). That perhaps it's only my MIL who brings out the crazy bitch in me. The answer is I don't know. Because my mom? Has not foisted her presence upon us with mind-blowing frequency or ever taken it upon herself to walk off with Max without a word to at least one of his parents in a public place, and I really don't think it has ever crossed her mind to come over and take Max off somewhere without us. She has invited us (all of us) to go somewhere when she wanted to take Max somewhere. So excuse me if I think that's the way things SHOULD be (add a healthy dose of snark to that statement).

Now for the "I'm not ungrateful" bit. We went to the zoo with Chad's parents last weekend. And they kindly paid for our admission as well as theirs. They also bought us lunch. I acknowledged these generous acts and thanked them sincerely for it. But if they think that paying for zoo admission and lunch makes it all right for them to hog my child on his first trip to the zoo (not to mention carry him off to see the tigers for the first time and leave our diaper-bag-lugging, stroller-navigating asses in the dust OMG WTF) then I'd rather pay for everything myself. And yes, they DID take Max to get his first glimpse of a real live tiger without me. When we've been reading animal picture books in preparation for his first trip to the zoo to see them in real life. Hello, steam coming from my ears.

You might wonder how it is that my in-laws manage to sneak off with my kid in public places with such alarming regularity. You see, they're tricky about it. At Frank's wedding, for instance, Chad and I were sitting down to eat, and his dad was standing up with Max behind us while we ate (because the Max, he likes for you to stand up when you hold him. Otherwise he wants down). Then we turn around and they're GONE. We scan the room, and they're NOWHERE. OMG, WHO DOES THAT? He couldn't have said, "Oh hey, I see a co-worker, I'm going to take Max over and say hi." Nope. He just walks away like it's not a big deal at all that we're at a crowded wedding reception and he just walks out to the parking lot with my baby without telling anyone. So I'm freaking out a little bit, searching the whole room then the bathrooms then outside behind the reception hall where some people were mingling before seeing them walking back from the parking lot. So I tell him that is NOT OKAY, I require a bit of common courtesy when it comes to this sort of thing (if not asking permission to take my kid out of my sightline, then at least a heads-up that it is happening). Otherwise, I FREAK THE HELL OUT. Because I don't know where my kid is. Gah. I get a smile and nod and half-hearted apology. Problem solved.

Or not. Because when we went out to lunch for Mothers Day, he did it again! GAHHH! He's all, "Let Grandpa tote you to the car for Mommy" to Max. And I'm all, "Fine, whatever." So he gets Max out of the highchair while I'm putting his crayons and sippy cup back in the diaper bag, and I turn around and once again, they're gone. And when we get to the front of the restaurant, where we can see Chad's truck, they're not there either. Because once again he saw someone he knew and followed them to their car (in the lot on the side of the restaurant) and didn't bother to tell anyone. Gah. See, the way it usually happens when we go out to the eat with them is that Chad's dad will take Max out of the highchair and wait for us to gather our things, and we all walk outside together. I really hate this new 'taking Max and disappearing' act they have going. Because Chad's mom always manages to disappear with them, but they never bother to say a word about it to Chad or me.

Then there's the whole zoo fiasco. Not to mention the "we really want to take your baby and raise it ourselves" seeds that were planted years ago when Chad's mom was pressuring us to have a baby (like, a week after our wedding). When I told her I most definitely was not ready for a baby at that point in my life she said, "You can just have the baby, and I'll raise it." I am not joking. Those were her exact words. I don't actually know if she was joking or not. My gut says not. So I am obviously not the only crazy person in this family.

So maybe all that has something to do with my gut reaction to their incessant desire to take Max off without me (or Chad). You know, that instinctual response that says "NO!" Well, all those incidents plus the little seeds they're planting in Max's mind that say "Grandma and Grandpa are better than Mommy and Daddy. If Mommy and Daddy do something you don't like, even if it's for your own good, you can call us and we'll take you away" probably contribute to my wanting to keep Max with me, or at least in one place when he's being baby-sat.

After all that negativity, now I'll leave you with a picture of Max seeing sheep for the first time.

Balloons Are The Best Thing EVER

Oh, the HEAT

Been a while since I posted, so here's what's been going on here since the Max busted his head open.

• It hasn't rained for THREE WEEKS, and it is HOT. As in record-breaking heat. Hottest my backyard has been in the past week: 107 degrees. It's been over 102 every single day for a week and a half. Officially, temps in Mobile have been 100-101. Holy crap, that's hot for June.
  
• Yesterday our air conditioner up and died. While we are experiencing record-breaking heat.
• Seeing my in-laws 4 days in three weeks is TOO MUCH. I need a break.
• I shouldn't complain, though, since one of those times was helping move our new (to us) dining room furniture. And another time was them bringing a second little window air conditioner for our bedroom when our central air died yesterday. We have one window unit in the kitchen in case of hurricanes.
  
• But I can't help it. I cannot stand the constant negative comments pertaining to Max not talking or still wanting a pacifier or the implications that Chad and I are getting this parenting thing all wrong. You don't go to someone's house and make snide remarks to their child or ask him questions like, "Mommy made you mad?" or "Daddy didn't do that right?" followed by something that may as well be, "I can do it better." Just thinking about it gets me all worked up.
• So what if I piss my toddler off when I take away his riding toy because he refuses to sit down on it? What is the alternative? Let him have his way and stand up on it so he can bust his head open again? What's better? A couple of minutes of full on, pissed off, red faced screaming? Or the consequences of him falling off and getting hurt? I'm the parent for a reason. I know better than Max does when it comes to that sort of thing.
  
• I can't stop baking. Apparently, it's my new favorite hobby. A couple of days ago I made oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies, and they are awesome. Max gets mad at me when I only let him eat one. Today I made some banana muffins, and they are pretty much the best muffins ever. We'll see if Max, who has never liked muffins, will eat one.
• I'm almost finished with my cardigan! I'm working on the last piece, and hopefully it won't be long before I have a finished product to show you.
• I really need to stop reading blogs by crafty people. They always make me want to take on new and exciting hobbies that I have no time for. Like sewing. I have never used a sewing machine, ever. But suddenly I find myself wanting to give it a try. I mean, it doesn't *seem* like it would be that difficult. But I'm sure it's more involved than I am envisioning.

I'm sure there's more, but you probably don't want all the details. So now I'll go back to editing my graphs and waiting for the AC repairman.

Panic! At the Homestead

Whew. Is anyone else out there actually *glad* it's Monday? No? Just me? Oh well. It was a terrible weekend here in LaTinaLand, and I'm sort of looking forward to a mundane week. See, to start things off, Max had to go and bust his head open Saturday morning, so that pretty much ruined the whole weekend right there. I made yummy lemon muffins and scrambled eggs for breakfast on Saturday, so that was good. But Max ate one bite of eggs and refused to try the muffin, which is to be expected with Max. His breakfast of champions? A bowl of Cheerios and some fruit.

Anyway, after breakfast I took a shower and had just finished drying my hair when I heard Max start crying, and Chad yelled from the living room, "Where's the first aid kit?" So I dropped my hair brush and ran into the hall (Max wasn't crying anymore), where Chad was holding Max, who was bleeding all over Chad's shirt. From a gaping wound on his forehead. So we went into the hall bathroom and got a damp rag to wipe the blood away so I could see what we were dealing with. Then I whipped out the giant variety box of Band-Aids and the antibiotic cream, along with gauze and medical tape. When I tried to clean the wound a little, Max wiggled and screamed, and we had to lay him down on the couch so I could get a giant-sized Band-Aid on him. Meanwhile, Chad explained that Max had been playing in the kitchen, tripped over the wheel of the high chair and fell face first right into the corner of the cabinet. Ahhh!

It was decided that the cut would need stitches, so I called Max's pediatrician's office (they have a little emergency room there, and we thought that would be faster and better for Max than taking him to the big emergency room at the hospital). The branch of the medical group where Max's pediatrician is based was CLOSED. The one time we *really* need them on a Saturday. Ahhh!!! But they have another office about 10 minutes away, so I called there and found out exactly where it was (behind IHOP on Airport, FYI), and we were off. Actually, I called while we were in already in the car. Because once we decided this was an EMERGENCY, I grabbed Max's (conveniently pre-packed) diaper bag, threw in a juice box, a paci, and his shoes, snatched up my purse, and we ran out the door. Chad drove. I was a little shaky.

Max totally kept his cool while Chad and I were busy panicking. As long as we weren't trying to fix his head wound, he was fine. There was a giant Band-Aid over it, and it was still bleeding (duh, it was a big gaping gash that wouldn't stay closed on its own). Max didn't even have his paci, and he was cool. I strapped him in the car seat, and he was fine. A real trooper. He just kept looking up to try to see the enormous Band-Aid on his head.

Anyway, so we were ushered right into the ER when we got to the doctor's office, and Max just sat on Chad's lap and looked around. No tears. His forehead was busted open, and he was bleeding, but he was fine with it. Then the doctor came in with a nurse, who took the Band-Aid off Max's forehead. Then we laid him down on the exam table, and all hell broke loose. Max was screaming and flailing, despite the paci I retrieved from the diaper bag (not that I blame him, poor baby). Chad held Max's legs, I held his arms, and the nurse held his head while the doctor cleaned and examined the wound. He decided that stitches wouldn't be necessary. The cut was a perfectly vertical line (when the nurse held the edges of the wound together; it was a big gaping marquis shape otherwise) almost an inch long right above Max's left eye, so they decided they could glue it closed instead of stitching it. So we held Max down for a couple more minutes while the doctor produced a vial of purple Derma-bond and glued the wound shut.

Then the doctor peeled off a little wound care instruction sheet and told us how to care for Max's injury: don't do ANYTHING. Don't wet it (though a little blot in the bath would be fine), don't put any ointment on it, don't clean it, don't put a bandange on it. Just leave it alone and let the glue start coming off on its own (which would start to happen in a week or so). But we'd have to be careful not to let Max rub his head vigorously against anything or pick at the glue. Which as it turns out, is easier said than done with a toddler who has completely forgotten that he busted his forehead open two days ago.

Chad and I were really jumpy all weekend, freaking out every time Max stumbled. Which happens a lot, especially considering Max's propensity to spin around in circles until he can't walk straight. We jumped every time Max fell down and were constantly telling him to be careful. Yesterday Max started wanting to rub his face on the furniture and do this head-butting thing that he does, and he's making us crazy. Because he does not respect his head wound. He doesn't really try to touch it with his hands, though. I'm guessing it still hurts like hell.

Dressing and undressing the Max is also a little more difficult than usual. Because I try to get his shirt on and off without rubbing it against his forehead. Easier said than done. Yesterday morning Max got impatient with me and whipped his pajama shirt over his head while I was positioning the neck hole so it wouldn't touch the cut. I freaked a bit, but he was fine.

Anyway, so this morning I had to explain the head wound to the director of Max's daycare center (we saw her on the way in) and then to his teachers. They told me that another little boy in Max's class had to get stitches under his chin over the weekend when he fell off the bed. So it was a bad weekend for the toddlers at Max's daycare.

So now I'm ready for a week without drama. You hear that, Powers That Be? NO DRAMA.

Playground Etiquette

So, Max and I braved the 90-degree heat this morning (but at 9 a.m. it was only 93 degrees, now it's 97 degrees) and went to the park. Big deal, right? I don't usually bother to tell you about our trips to the park. I push Max around in the stroller for 30 minutes or so (depending on how tolerant he is of being strapped down and how tired I am) then we hit the playground. Boring, boring. Although a couple of weeks ago, Max did find an empty beer bottle in the jungle gym. I freaked out a little about my 16 month old carrying around a glass bottle (and then I was all "who the hell leaves beer bottles in jungle gyms on the freaking BABY PLAYGROUND?!"), but I got over it. He climbed out of the jungle gym and immediately handed the bottle to me. Good boy, Max.

Anyway, the Max and I were chilling at the playground, blowing bubbles, sliding down the slide, climbing in the jungle gym, the usual. Then we went over to the swings, which Max doesn't particularly like, but I always put him in a swing for a little while despite that (surely he will LEARN to like the swings).

ANYway, Max was busy enjoying his first 10 seconds of swinging then begging to get out when this little boy comes over to me, wanting me to push him in a swing. This kid is maybe 2 years old, and his verbal skills aren't so good. Because most small children can only *really* be understood by their parents.

I'm not really sure what the proper etiquette is for this particular situation. Is it ok to put some other person's kid (whom you have never so much as seen before) in a baby swing? Are you allowed to play with a stranger's kid at the park? I mean, I wouldn't want some random stranger playing with my kid without permission.

Anyway, so I asked the little boy where his mommy was. Response: *stare* *point to swing* *hold arms up* I looked around, saw one guy with a little girl playing nearby. No resemblance AT ALL to the little boy and paying no attention to us. Not the kid's dad. I looked around some more. And saw NO ONE on the baby playground. There were a few parents and children on the adjacent big kid playground, but none of them were paying attention to the kid or seemed to be looking for a missing 2 year old.

So I rescued Max from his swing and put the stranger kid in a swing and pushed him for a little while. Max seemed to enjoy watching the other little boy having fun in the swing. As I mentioned before, it was 90+ degrees outside, and we'd been out in it for about an hour and a half at this point (but slathered with suncreen, wearing sunglasses, and with plenty of water on hand). Max was getting sweaty and irritable and wanted to be held. The stranger kid wanted to be pushed in the swing and did not want to get out. But it was *really* time for me to take Max home. By that time the guy with the little girl had come over to the swings, and I was trying to persuade the little boy to let me get him out and go find his mommy. Max was squirming and whining, and the guy was like, "I'll get him out." So I shrugged, and said ok. So that guy took the stranger kid out of the swing, and an older little girl (meaning she was about 6), perhaps the kid's sister, came over and led the stranger kid over to the big kid playground, and I assume, their mom/nanny/grandparent/other guardian.

That whole situation was weird. Who takes a toddler to the park and lets him wander off completely by himself? Not at all within sight? And lets him talk to random strangers without supervision? Well, try to talk, anyway. I mean, I've interacted with plenty of kids at the park, but until now the parent or grandparent of the kid in question has been right there, ready to pounce should the interaction between our kids turn nasty (e.g., should Max try to hold their kid's hand or should their kid poke Max in the tummy, both of which have happened before). It's weird when some random kid comes over and wants you to push him on the swings. And weirder when you can't figure out who he belongs to.