I'm going to confess: Van was a delightful baby. He slept through the night, didn't experience separation anxiety, and ate everything you put in front of him. He was the most coveted baby at day care, everyone wanted him in their room because he was "easy."
And then it changed.
Van is an enthusiastic toddler. He's becoming what you call "spirited," which in modern mommy terms means, "a little hard to deal with." However, on the spectrum of behavior, he's still pretty easy.
But suddenly I'm being confronted with this fact: I don't know how to control him. Which is also compounded with: How am I going to handle this and a newborn? WHAT WAS I THINKING?
Enter television. More importantly, an episode of Supernanny that I reluctantly watched because it came on after a home makeover show. And for the first time it intrigued me. I used to think, "Who wants to watch screaming children on television?" But this time, I had sympathy. I saw myself in this mom. She's tired and she just doesn't know what to do.
I know that Supernanny isn't the mecca of parenting information, but it sure put it all in a digestible and entertaining format. Don't judge, I'm a Millennial just like you (except for you, Liz).
But, I think I may need to break my parenting book boycott and check a few out. Any recommendations? I have Bringing Up Boys somewhere around here... anything about the toddler years?
Van had his first Chuck E. Cheese trip Saturday by attending his cousin's fourth birthday. He found the experience completely overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. During the birthday Chuck E. Cheese appearance, he gave me glances as to say, "Are you kidding me, I'm supposed to get excited about this?"
He did however like the games; he's being raised by two techno geeks. So off we went, tokens in hand, to throw away my sister's money (good thing about attending a birthday party). That's when I encountered a game that left me ranting and raving.
Was it needless violence? Over-the-top commercialism? No, it was grammar. Specifically the phrase, "Get more closer."
What? No wonder test scores are so low. Didn't someone proofread the game text before it was shoved in front of the millions of children? Apparently not.
Dear lawn care advertiser: I know Photoshop when I see it. Lime green is not a natural shade of grass. Thx.
Note from teacher: Van shared his Cheez-Its with Baby A when he saw she was all out.
Note to teacher: Van doesn't like Cheez-Its.
It's no secret: we've definitely upgraded houses. We knew moving to Deer Creek was a little cliche – we rocked the retro Village lifestyle – but the schools, proximity to friends, and convenience of a new house on a nice piece of land moved us up north. Besides, we won't lose our edge, you know?
The neighborhood is great, it is so nice to see children playing and not have neighbors come over repeating racial slurs (true story!). We even had someone ask to bring us over dinner. How nice! So when we got a New Years Eve party invite, our previous plans were deterred by the host's sick baby (we love you AJ), we decided to try something new.
The invite came after we had settled in for a night of watching Up, which I don't recommend watching while you are pregnant. I was wailing, and I have seen the movie before. So, to prepare for the party, I had to disguise my puffy eyes, half-heartedly Chi my hair, and squeeze into some Old Navy pregnancy jeans and a four-year-old polyester top. Off we went.
I wasn't prepared. I just wasn't prepared.
I walked into what I always envisioned as a stereotypical Edmondite get-together. The wives were grouped in the kitchen sipping martinis with perfectly straightened and highlighted locks, dressed in size 0 True Religion jeans, and calling for their children named after luxury car manufacturers. The husbands discussed golf swings, Blu-Ray players, and the firm's Christmas party. And there I was, pregnant, brunette, and dressed in Polyester.
I was, and still am, intimidated.
Here's my disclaimer: everyone was perfectly nice and very polite. Van had a great time running around with trendy-named children - I can't deny that he has a trendy name too. But it was the shock of it all. Our lifestyle has changed, and we, too, must change to accommodate it.
First, I have the best looking husband. The women sported style, and the hubbies sported their true ages. Why did I watch all those Desperate Housewives episodes?
Second, how will I fit in? These are the women with whom I'll coordinate school bake sales and PTA events. Will I be Lynette: frazzled, disorganized, and unstylish? Will my hang-ups affect Van? I want him to have tons of friends in the neighborhood.
But lastly, do they make True Religion pregnancy jeans?
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