Pardon my slacking, I've been busy building myself an igloo. The fourth (fifth??) snow storm in the last 3.5 weeks is headed our way tonight, which is really just so awesome. If you're someone who likes that much snow. Which I don't.
Brendan started his new daycare in the beginning of the month. They love him and say he's doing really well, making friends and having fun. Problem is the whole drop-off thing, which as I've complained about already, is the job of yours truly. The first week he actually did really well and I felt a little silly that I had been so anxious and dreading this transition so much.
The second week, on the other hand, didn't go quite so well. He cried and held onto me for dear life. How I would have loved to stay there with him all day and make him feel better, but I have a job and it's now an hour away so I don't have the luxury of time. Not to mention, they don't want me sticking around making things worse and it doesn't help him get adjusted if I baby him. I have to take the opposite approach and peel him off of me and run out the door. So that's what I did. Then I got in my car and cried.
It made me think of that first day I dropped him off at daycare after my maternity leave was over. It was sooooo much harder on me than it was on him. And it's the same now. He puts on a great show when I leave but I know within five minutes he's fine and having a dandy old time. But I feel awful for hours after. I just keep telling myself that he won't remember any of this a few years from now. I also tell myself that when he's testing the limits of my patience and I do something ridiculous like growl at him and make him cry. Yes, I'm a horrible mother.
So yeah, two and half is an interesting age. His vocabulary consists mostly of No! My turn! I do it! and I don't want to! He moves at a glacial pace, inspecting everything in his path, doing things when he's good and ready and not a moment sooner. Which is why we have a delightful morning ritual of him running away from me when I try to get him dressed so we can get out the door at a reasonable time. He doesn't get the sense of urgency and I learned quickly that you can't rush a toddler because it backfires and they resist even more. So either I'm trying to outwit him and trick him into letting me get him dressed, or I'm peeling off his pajamas and shoving his clothes on him all while running after him. Fun stuff.
It's all about Jedi mind games at this age. They're too young to understand "later" or "tomorrow" so there's no reasoning with them. You need to give them choices, but not too many because you overwhelm them. I'd like to start potty training him but he's much more interested in sitting on the potty and using up all the toilet paper while he pretends to wipe himself (he shoves the toilet paper into the potty between his legs). Oh, and he's discovered the joy of picking his nose.
I'm really making B sound like a beast, but this age is truly a lot of fun. He's so much more independent and the things he says are just hysterical. He teeters between being super affectionate and telling me he loves me "toooooo much!" and yelling at me because I had the audacity to sit in "his spock" (spot) or take the hairbrush away because he's brushing the wall. Which has the same effect as scratching nails on chalkboard, by the way.
I've heard that age three is actually harder than the terrible two's. I'll admit it, I'm kinda scurrred...
Snow!
Making a snowman with Daddy
Decapitated snowman
Brendan is 2.5 years old!
Brendan started his new daycare in the beginning of the month. They love him and say he's doing really well, making friends and having fun. Problem is the whole drop-off thing, which as I've complained about already, is the job of yours truly. The first week he actually did really well and I felt a little silly that I had been so anxious and dreading this transition so much.
The second week, on the other hand, didn't go quite so well. He cried and held onto me for dear life. How I would have loved to stay there with him all day and make him feel better, but I have a job and it's now an hour away so I don't have the luxury of time. Not to mention, they don't want me sticking around making things worse and it doesn't help him get adjusted if I baby him. I have to take the opposite approach and peel him off of me and run out the door. So that's what I did. Then I got in my car and cried.
It made me think of that first day I dropped him off at daycare after my maternity leave was over. It was sooooo much harder on me than it was on him. And it's the same now. He puts on a great show when I leave but I know within five minutes he's fine and having a dandy old time. But I feel awful for hours after. I just keep telling myself that he won't remember any of this a few years from now. I also tell myself that when he's testing the limits of my patience and I do something ridiculous like growl at him and make him cry. Yes, I'm a horrible mother.
So yeah, two and half is an interesting age. His vocabulary consists mostly of No! My turn! I do it! and I don't want to! He moves at a glacial pace, inspecting everything in his path, doing things when he's good and ready and not a moment sooner. Which is why we have a delightful morning ritual of him running away from me when I try to get him dressed so we can get out the door at a reasonable time. He doesn't get the sense of urgency and I learned quickly that you can't rush a toddler because it backfires and they resist even more. So either I'm trying to outwit him and trick him into letting me get him dressed, or I'm peeling off his pajamas and shoving his clothes on him all while running after him. Fun stuff.
It's all about Jedi mind games at this age. They're too young to understand "later" or "tomorrow" so there's no reasoning with them. You need to give them choices, but not too many because you overwhelm them. I'd like to start potty training him but he's much more interested in sitting on the potty and using up all the toilet paper while he pretends to wipe himself (he shoves the toilet paper into the potty between his legs). Oh, and he's discovered the joy of picking his nose.
I'm really making B sound like a beast, but this age is truly a lot of fun. He's so much more independent and the things he says are just hysterical. He teeters between being super affectionate and telling me he loves me "toooooo much!" and yelling at me because I had the audacity to sit in "his spock" (spot) or take the hairbrush away because he's brushing the wall. Which has the same effect as scratching nails on chalkboard, by the way.
I've heard that age three is actually harder than the terrible two's. I'll admit it, I'm kinda scurrred...
Snow!
Making a snowman with Daddy
Decapitated snowman
Brendan is 2.5 years old!
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