This morning I woke up in need. It was one of those Sundays that called for a crispy Belgian brown wonder, dripping with butter and warm syrup. You know, a waffle kind of morning. I rolled over and asked Greyson as sweetly as I could to be taken out for breakfast. Denied. As our tot bounced between us asking for iPhone videos and saying “I’m hungry!” I thought, “Hmm…I can be an amazing mother and get my waffle fix.”

“I’ll cook!” I announced, feet hitting the floor.

As I warmed up the waffle maker and measured out the mix I thought, “Eggs. We need eggs too.” We had some grocery store brand Egg Beater-like carton eggs. Greyson checked the expiration date. October. Score. I found a smaller carton with a  late August expiration. I cooked them up anyway. Mistake. They looked funny. I tossed them. I cooked the October carton. Eh. Still looked a little off but no biggie. October date. We’re good. I was even short cooking spray and the waffles still cooked perfectly and came off the iron evenly. Greyson said to Charlotte, “Isn’t your Mama great!? It was so nice of her to cook breakfast for us.” I thought with great pride, “It is great of me. I am a good mother!” 

Charlotte has been doing this thing lately where she puts food in her mouth, chews and then decides she no longer likes it and wants to spit it out. This happened after she took a bite of the eggs she begged for. Greyson is very perturbed by this quirk and told her, “No! You will swallow what’s in your mouth!” She cried and protested while keeping the half-masticated eggs in her mouth. Greyson said, “Fine! Time out! You will sit in Time Out until you swallow your eggs!” I thought, “Ugh! I hate doing that, but we need to make sure she’s eating what’s on her plate. We need to teach her that. We’re doing right by her as parents.”

Her wimpers subsided and I scooped some eggs on my plate as well. I took a bite. “Oh God! Ugh! Greyson, have you tried these? Charlotte! You can come out of Time-Out. These are bad.” Greyson said, “Oh, Charlotte! Come here, you can spit them out.”

Our bewildered, sniffling child spit her rancid eggs into the napkin I held to her face. She looked at us with tear-filled, confused eyes. Thankfully she seemed only a bit resentful. We apologized profusely and tried to explain when food tastes “funny” or “bad” she can tell us and spit it out.

Now I’m wondering how often anything will taste “funny.” As if punishing himself, Greyson took a bite too, before spitting them out. We bought the name brand carton eggs today, thinking that $1.50 could save us from further parental failures. Okay, I’m not the fantastic waffle-making mother I’d like to be. Sometimes I’m one bad egg in a pair of imperfect parents.

Lately I’ve witnessed what I’ve dubbed “clingers,” particularly at Charlotte’s dance class. But, I’ve seen them other places too. Daycare, birthday parties and other get-togethers seem to reveal children who are clingers. You’ve seen them. They get all panicky and weepy when they have to leave their parents.

I think there are two types of clingers:

Level 1 Clingers: There are kids who HAVE to sit on their moms’ laps and warm up when the other children sit excitedly together in the circle or play at the party. These children are mostly ignored by the others. When asked by other adults if they would “like to come and play?!” or “join the group!” they bury their faces and their parents say stuff like, “He’s shy.” The party, class or event typically continues as planned and the child may or may not join in.

Level 2 Clingers: Oh goodness. A level 2. Take a breath. We’ve all seen them and feel terrible for their parents. One child was SCREAMING in dance class the other day. You would have thought the poor dance teacher had asked if she wanted to burn Elmo at the stake. She had really just asked if she wanted to sit in the circle. The child had a death grip on the woman.  I watched the bewildered mom try to catch her breath as she opened her arms and the child still clung on to her. This was snot streaming, choking type of crying. This little girl legitimately must have believed her mom had sold her into slavery. They would have been a tribe of little pigtailed slaves in pink tights. The crying stopped for a moment, and somehow the mom escaped. We heard her later on wailing again over the music and the assistant teacher eventually brought her in the waiting room to call her parents.

Non-clinger: I have a non-clinger. 9 times out of 10 she is happy to see her friends at daycare, psyched for the birthday party and ready to sit in the circle at dance class. There are the few days where she’s out of sorts when I drop her off. If she’s not feeling well or mad about the toy I made her leave in the car that day, she may be a little weepy, but it’s rare. ALL children have the occasional clingy days. We all know what that’s like as a parent and it sucks. No one wants to leave their child upset.

Most of the time  the challenge for me as the parent of a non-clinger is to help my child react to a clinger. When Charlotte is excited to see her friend who is a Level 1 Clinger, but she wants to share toys and play, it’s hard sometimes to explain the behavior. She often seems a little hurt that the child doesn’t want to play at that moment. That’s when I try to distract her or say something like, “She needs to sit her mommy right now. Why don’t we go get some juice.”

When it’s a Level 2 Clinger, distraction is not really an option. Come on. There’s no way to ignore the screams. My little non-clinger often looks at me panicked like, “Um, should I be worried too?” That’s when I’ve started saying “He is having a tough time right now, isn’t he? He’ll feel better soon. Let’s go talk to the teacher/another child etc.” Sometimes if the child is past the wailing and is just sniffling, I’ll say “Charlotte, why don’t you go give her a hug.”

I in no way want to talk bad about another child to my child. I think it’s crummy when parents do that. It’s hard. As an uber-extrovert, I do not appreciate, nor value “shy” behavior. I do not think it is okay for parents to label a child “shy” or use “shyness” as an excuse for anti-social behavior. A lot of times I really want to roll my eyes and tell the kid to suck it up. But, that would set a really poor example for my daughter. I also understand that it is very judgmental of me to feel this way. It is a fault I need to work on. Some kids have issues that I may not know about or understand. Sometimes kids, especially toddlers,  just have an off day.

So, that is how I’ve been dealing with clingers. Tell me what you do and how you deal with it. If you have a clinger, what do you want non-clinger parents to do?

Maybe it’s  because it’s Shark Week. Maybe it’s because of that scary story that came out this week about Usher’s son. But, water safety has been on my mind this week. We have decided we officially have a water baby. I swear our child is part fish. She LOVES being in the pool. She loves summer and our little daredevil is happy to push away from us as she learns to jump off the side of the pool into our cautiously open arms. I in no way want to squash this enthusiasm. I love the fact that my 2 1/2 year-old  loves kicking, blowing bubbles and dunking her whole head in the water. I remember to my younger sister wailing during swim lessons at the pool because she didn’t want to get her face wet. I was far from a super swimmer myself, even though I was on the swim team for a few years.

As my daughter grins and giggles, inside I am reeling with anxiety that she will go under and we will not be able to get to her. I have horrible flashbacks to my early days of motherhood with Postpartum Depression when I was forever worried that she would drown in a pool, the ocean 2 hours away, lakes 20 miles away, the bath, a puddle or a heavy rain. I often let my husband take the lead on swimming in the big pool. I usually relax after a little while and we have a great time. The pool we joined rocks and we always have fun with neighborhood events on Friday nights.

It seems to be a trend that every toddler wears a Puddle Jumper. Have you heard of these? They’re like an arm floatie/life jacket hybrid. I felt like a sorry excuse for a suburban pool mom for not having my kid stuffed in one of these.  I held off on buying any type of floatation device because I heard it stunts their swimming progress or whatever. I’ve also heard “No! You can’t buy those because then they might not know when they aren’t wearing one and jump in and sink!” Huh? I mean, I think she’s going to know when she’s wearing one.  We don’t own a pool because of my anxiety. (Okay, right. We don’t own a pool because that shit is expensive and we would never clean it.) I feel like that’s a problem for pool owners. She’s never going to wander into our backyard pool and sink, nor will she ever be at the neighborhood pool by herself.

I bought a life jacket anyway.  Why?  Because it made me feel more secure. It reduced my mama anxiety, which made it worth every penny of $24.95. I didn’t get a Puddle Jumper because we tried arm floaties and she hated having something on her arms. I went with a Speedo life jacket for toddlers. She calls it her “puffy vest.” We had a very serious conversation about how she can float above the water with her puffy vest on and how she needs to always hold on to Mama and Daddy when she doesn’t have it on. I think she has a pretty good grasp of this concept and it has made pool time much better for me.

What do you do to ensure water safety with your little one? What do you think of my life jacket decision?  Any thoughts?  Did I do the right thing?

Alright, let’s get through Shark Week with no water injuries, shall we?

Greyson let me sleep in while he got up to make me a spectacular breakfast.  Before that, he had to deal with a massive out-of-Pull-Up explosion Charlotte had overnight.  (Remind me of this before Father’s Day.)  We watched Kristen Wiig on Saturday Night Live on the DVR.  We took some time to blow some bubbles in the yard before I took off to get a much needed pedicure and made a Target run.  

After a family nap my mom came over to play with Charlotte and we ate dinner.  Mom and I left to see Carol Burnett perform at a theater.  My mom was always a fan of the Carol Burnett Show and we knew her being in town on Mother’s Day night would be the perfect gift.  The loud cackling across the theater?  That was us.

I figured this would be a good day to debut the bump at 15.5 weeks.  I hope your Mother’s Day was this awesome!

My child sleeping in a crib meant she was a baby.  She could stand and peer over the edge and push toys between the bars, but she was still confined to an infant’s sleeping conditions.  She may be a walking, talking toddler during the day, but she was my baby by night. I would rock her in her rocking chair before letting her retire to her crib.  It was heaven.

It was a little bittersweet removing that front part of the crib to make a toddler bed.  She suddenly seemed so grown-up in a bed instead of a crib.  We made the change just when Charlotte turned two back in November.  I had no idea, but this turned into the most delightful little surprise in my mommy life.  Every night for the last five months I have gone upstairs to check on her before going to bed.  Sometimes I have to arrange her ever lengthening limbs to keep her from falling eight inches onto the carpet.  I cover her with a blanket.

I’ve found I absolutely love not having the front of the crib on her bed anymore.

I sit on the floor and lay my head next to hers and let my fingers get tangled in her curls.  I listen to her breathe.  I rub her back and feel the rise and fall of each of her breaths.  I brush the back of my hand against her  cheeks and thank God that this beautiful healthy child is ours.

This is usually when she startles and pushes my hand away.  Then I smile because I really know she’s mine. I hate to be touched when I sleep, too.  I give my little independent sleeper one more peck before slipping out of the room.

I wonder what other bittersweet milestones will end up being very sweet, after all?