This was me today. It was the kind of Tuesday where I answered work emails from my phone as the doctor at Urgent Care told me to “Get over yourself and go home. You’re not going to work today. You’re running a fever.” So I sucked down soup and Airborne with no makeup, glasses, and tissues always in tow. Between naps I watched episodes of “Arrested Development” on Netflix. Laughing at the shenanigans of Gob, Buster, and Tobias made me forget about the body aches and runny nose.

This affliction came to be thanks to my daughter. My poor girl had a double ear infection with a virus on top. She had a fever from Thursday through Sunday. I worry she had it before that and we didn’t notice it.

When my fever from the virus started I felt terrible! This had me wondering. Was she starting to feel bad before we noticed it? Could her tantrums be because she didn’t feel well and couldn’t tell us? We can see when she is lethargic. Like any kid, she cries when she bumps her head or smashes her finger, but what about when she’s starting to feel ill? She can tell me when she has a boo-boo, but it’s not like she can say, “Mama, I feel like I might be coming down with something,” or “Daddy, I think my lymph nodes are swollen and my throat hurts.”

I Googled “When can a child tell you they are sick,” but I didn’t get the answers I was looking for. How old will she be when she can say, “I feel sick”? The mothering instinct has served me well so far, but I’m not gonna lie. It would be really nice for her to tell me when something is wrong.

How did you get your child to tell you something is wrong? When were they able to do that? I figure if I get some advance warning of her sickness, I may be able to keep myself healthier too.

We hyped up this weekend a ton.  We promised all these fabulous features we really weren’t positive were even at this farm we were going to.  Everyday we would say, “Charlotte, do you want to go to a farm?!  Won’t that be so fun!?”  She’s in this phase where she agrees with pretty much everything we say.  I could have said, “Do you want to drink tuna juice?!” and she would have been psyched.

It was her good buddy Adalyn’s 2nd birthday party.  This place has all the autumn goodness a kid could hope for and a parent could photograph.

We were those a-hole parents that totally got there late.  It was entirely my fault. It’s about a 45 minute drive to get to the farm and I thought we could get there late and it wouldn’t be a problem.  Wrong!  They were waiting for us to start the hayride as we hurried to the entrance.  Greyson and I were mid-argument about the diaper bag as we rushed and dropped things.  I guiltily greeted the birthday girl’s parents and off we went.

For 99% of the party, it was wonderful!  Charlotte and Adalyn call each other Chasie and Addie.  They are truly adorable together.  They are the only girls in their class at school and quite the pair.  Adalyn didn’t like it when Charlotte got too close to her cake and Charlotte seriously envied Adalyn’s presents.  Ah, girlfriends!  It starts early, doesn’t it?

They climbed on the picnic table and dug in the cooler.  We joked with her parents that we should just give them some frozen water instead of taking them on train rides and playground equipment.

Oh, I said 99% didn’t I?  Yeah.  The last 15 minutes were a screaming, thrashing blur of pumpkins and hay.  When I say my child hit the proverbial wall, I mean she lost it.  Completely lost it.  This was the type of tantrum that started with pumpkin selection and ended with a string of snot several inches long, dangling from her pacifier.  Yes, we gave our kid a paci in front of all the other parents who’ve binky-weaned their toddlers.  We had no choice really.  Everyone was staring at her while she screamed like we had shoved bamboo shoots under her fingernails.  I swear we only tried to help her carry a pumpkin too heavy for her to pick up!  But, that was all it took.  It was terrible.  There was nothing we could do to calm her down.  We quickly said goodbye after climbing off the hayride, Greyson fireman carried her out while I juggled a pumpkin with a light coating of snot.

Charlotte was asleep before we got out of the parking lot.  We then had a 45 minute husband/wife discussion on the way home about whether we should seek a child and family therapist to find out what is wrong with our kid.

We figured it out.  She suffers from Naplesstoddleritis.  She was an absolute delight the rest of the weekend.  We agreed as a couple that tantrums would not rule our lives.  We can’t get so upset when she does.  We have to remain calm and realize she’s a 22 month-old who’s exhausted and can’t express herself yet.  That’s okay.  This will pass.  We plan on not reacting so dramatically.  She reacts to us being upset.  We just need to calmly remove her for a time-out.  Notice that’s what Adalyn’s dad was doing in the last picture.

I wrote about this a few weeks ago and many of you had some great ideas for us.  Thank you.  Please let us know if there is something else you think we should have done in this instance.  She was just tired and got mad when we took the pumpkin from her hands.  Thoughts?

 

On the way home today I sneezed in the car. From the backseat I heard, “Bless you, Mommy!”

I laughed and cried and thanked my little girl.

I am blessed, baby. Over and over everyday. By you. You blessed me the moment you were born, you just made it official today.

Maybe I’ll welcome the fall allergy season this year, just to hear little blessings.

This is the note we got on Charlotte’s “Toddler Daily Report” sheet from school one day last week.  I stifled my laughs as I read it out loud in my most concerned parent voice.  “Charlotte wasn’t using her listening ears today.” It was her first discipline note.  I had forgotten all about the elementary term “listening ears.”  The teacher heard me reading the note.  She turned to Charlotte and said, “Did you leave your listening ears at home today?”

I wanted to say, “Oh, no.  She doesn’t use them there either.  Actually, do you know where I could pick up an extra pair?”

The discipline they use at her school cracks me up.  The teachers say stuff like, “Make better choices!”  Choices?  They’re not even 2 years-old.  They have no choices.  I’m not sure if they have classroom time-out.  I’ll have to look into that since it looks like my kid may end up there soon.

When it comes to toddler behavior, I’d say my daughter is pretty normal.  90% of the time she is amazing!  Charlotte is smiley, sweet, funny, and all around charming.  She is a good eater, a good sleeper, and doesn’t have crazy separation anxiety or anything.  I’m proud to say she is a good kid.

9% of the time, she is in constant disagreement with someone.  Mama, Daddy, Ginger (Yes, she has disagreements with the dog.) or one of her little friends.  She’s not terrible, just not entirely pleasant.  Whining and brief tantrums will ensue.  She will often not do what she is told.  During these times we know she is either hungry or tired.

A dreaded 1% of the time I’m convinced her little pigtails must be hiding her horns.  These are the moments she falls on the floor wailing.  She cannot be consoled as she thrashes around in our arms shouting “No!”  A few times she has lashed out with a hit.  This is, of course, is unacceptable and results in time-out.

So here is my question.  Is timeout good enough?  I feel like she does calm down when put her in the little corner of our house designated for punishment.  Greyson and I stand over her and watch her for 1-2 minutes before we crouch down and talk about what she did.  Then we ask her to say she’s sorry, give her a hug, and tell her we love her.

During the “1% times” Greyson has asked me about spanking.  He was no stranger to spankings as a rambunctious little boy with a mom who had a device known as the “Super Spoon.”  I can count on one hand the times I was actually spanked as a child.  Let me tell you, I deserved it each time.

This recent study on spanking leads you to believe our babies will grow up to be smack addicted ax murderers if we lift a hand to them.  I don’t like spanking because I don’t think hitting should be the way you teach a child not to hit.  I also don’t like the thought of ever physically harming my child in any way.  Maybe there is truth to the whole “this hurts you more than it hurts me” thing.

Were you spanked?  Are you spanking your child?  What methods of punishment are you using?  Are they effective?

Oh, by-the-way, I took Charlotte to the doctor today.  She has a double ear infection.  Maybe she had listening ears all along, they were just infected.

This is my daughter’s crew.  Elmo, Abby, Cookie, Ernie and Burt.  They are her buddies, playmates and confidants.  She drags them across the floor, plants wet kisses on their noses, and whispers her secrets to them in toddler gibberish.

Three of them are so familiar to me that it’s like they were my own toys being passed on to her.  Burt, Ernie, and Cookie Monster were as much a part of my childhood as they are of her’s now.  My husband and I have become reacquainted with our old favorites.  I’ve learned to appreciate the younger generation’s affinity for Elmo and Abby Cadabby.

Naturally as my school years came, I fell out of touch with the gang on Sesame Street.  The songs and tales of my preschool years buried themselves in the back of my brain and became distant memories of peering up at my parents old TV set.

This weekend my girl spotted a pair of bright magenta sneakers amongst all the sparkly, bright shoes in the store.  The smiling face peering up from her toes was all she needed to see.  She cried when the clerk had to take off her Abby Cadabby sneakers to get the right size.  She didn’t care if they squished her toes.  They were Abby shoes after all.

My mom was babysitting a few weeks ago and called, “Hey, does Sesame Street still come on at 4:00pm?”  I paused and laughed for two reasons.  One, because my mother assumed a show came on the same time that it did 30 years ago, and two because I realized my kid has never had to know what time Sesame Street starts.  She can watch it in an instant on the DVR, and the iPad.

When she goes to my mom’s house she has her pick of 20 Sesame Street books.  Each of them has  my maiden name in my mom’s handwriting in the inside front cover.  One of them still has crayon scribbles I distinctly remember making during a tantrum as a child.  They are all safely preserved, filled with familiar faces and stories my child now loves.

I’m not sure how my mom knew those stories would be so enduring.  Maybe she was just sentimental about my love for Sesame Street.   I can’t imagine I’ll throw away my daughter’s bundle of buddies either.

Maybe it’s because Sesame Street is once again a large part of my life, but I was genuinely sad to hear of the death of Jerry Nelson last week.  He was the voice and puppeter who made Count von Count come to life.  One day earlier this year, our little girl surprised us when she pointed to the Count in one of the books and gave her best impression of the friendly vampire, “Ah! Ah! Ah!”

The Associated Press

I feel like I owe The Children’s Television Workshop a debt of gratitude.  Thank you for making something so fun and pure.  Thank you for creating characters that feel like friends, singing songs I still know the words to, and teaching lessons that continue past childhood.  Thank you for sweeping the clouds away and bringing sunny days to another generation.