I think they’re working.

Timeouts, that is. Or maybe it’s just the combination of focusing on lowering my stress level, his new language explosion (even if it’s still in a super secret language that only I can understand), and him finally getting old enough to understand, if only a little bit, that there can be consequences to his actions.

I don’t know, I don’t claim to know. I’m just cautiously happy, and really debated even writing this for fear of jinxing myself. But since I’m always quick to complain on here, figured I’d better balance out the bad with the good and let you all know that my toddler is less and less like a terrorist lately.

So what is my magic formula? Well, I read a little and listened a lot, and so many people reitterated the same message, “ignore the negative and praise the positive”. Now, that’s not to mean you ignore behavior that is timeout worthy, but I’ll get to that later. Remember how he was hitting his head really hard on random doors, walls, with toys and his hands? As hard as it was to not try to intervene, I took many seasoned parents’ advice and just ignored it.

As soon as he starts his caveman like behavior I just go totally Valley Girl on him and am all, like, “Whatever!” roll my eyes (okay, maybe not the best behavior to model, but it just comes so naturally), turn my head and walk away. It blows his mind. I also like to employ this Valley Girl method when he is sitting in timeout. I cross my arms and keep my eyes focused on the other side of the room, completely ignoring him, his pleas, his pulling on my pants. He gets NOTHING from me. NO acknowledgement. As a result, I’d say head bashing has decreased by a good 60%.

So, yes, let’s discus timeout. To be fair, I feel like he’s just now coming to the age where he understands what timeout is. I told a friend the other day that I feel like there is a window between 12 months and 18 months where all you can do is corral this new little beast and do your best to keep them from injuring themselves or others, but, to me, that age is just too young to really get a clear message across about timeouts and consequences.

But, let me tell you, the minute he was 18 months old, I saw a change in him. He was understanding if he wanted X, he needed to do Y. So we reinstated the timeout. He stays in it for a minute or two at most, but, like I mentioned earlier, I completely ignore him the whole time. And  think since I try really hard to positively encourage him throughout the day (which can be really tedious and annoying at the grocery store… “GREAT job sitting so nice in the cart. You are SO PATIENT. GREAT job not screaming. I’m SO PROUD of you for not crying.”), he gets that I’m upset when he’s not getting any sort of attention from me for those two minutes.

And it’s not even like he’s in timeout very often. I think we’re getting to the point that sometimes the mere threat of timeout is enough. For example, was changing his diaper today, which is also known as the WWE Smackdown around here, and I had had it with his crocodile rolls, sending poop everywhere. I thought it out and eventually threatened a timeout (because, you know, you do have to follow through to be effective, and sometimes timeouts are a really inconvenient option, especially when that means I’d have to leave turdlets on the floor for the dogs to possibly eat so I could take him to the “naughty corner”). Lucky for me, the threat was enough. He magically laid still long enough for me to get the mess cleaned up and his diaper on. It was a marvelous breakthrough!

Of course, this is not to say that I’ve got it all figured out. Just to give those of you out there struggling with your own little terrorist a glimmer of hope, I guess. And really, I’m thinking more than anything this is going to be a hilarious post to reference in another 6 months when he gets really serious about this whole independent rebellion thing.

Kendall is 19 months and one week old

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Ceiling fan’s got nothing on testy toddlers

I started taking Kendall to Gymboree classes when he was 3 months old. I willingly jumped into the…uhhh… stimulating, looks like Crayola puked all over it, world of clowns and bubbles, and songs about clowns and bubbles, when I realized that I pretty much sucked at entertaining my immobile infant. He just laid there and stared at me all day, and I would do my best to spark smiles and coos and oohs and aahs from him by reciting “itsy bitsy spider” and the ABCs over and over again because that’s pretty much the only “baby” songs I knew enough of the words to. Occasionally I would just break down and belt out a little Kelly Clarkson or Joshua Radin, but felt like I was just really not all that exciting as he laid there…blink….blink…yawn…oh look! Is that a ceiling fan?

I needed to go somewhere where I could learn to be cooler than the ceiling fan. I needed to go somewhere where I could learn more age appropriate songs and rhymes and games (although I did question the class instructor’s sanity when she suggested we break out some silky lingerie at home to let the babies feel and rub and roll around in, but then again it’s not like we were really using it). Not to mention, I needed to get out. I needed to meet other moms. I needed a REASON to leave the house because, left to my own devices, we would have stayed inside all day and I would have slowly grown into a hunchback cave woman, forgetting English. I would have raised Kendall to worship ceiling fans and speak in a made up language. In an effort to not raise the next Nell, I committed to going three times a week. We loved it. I loved it. I am forever grateful to Gymboree for making me more exciting than the ceiling fan.

Since then, I *have* met other moms. I *have* learned games and songs and songs and more songs. I have so many bubble and clown songs memorized that I can sing one for every moment of the day. Putting on socks? There’s a song for that. Cleaning up? There’s a song for that. Stay still on the changing table or I’m going to accidentally get shit on your face? There’s a song for that. (Okay, so maybe I’m adapting some of these a little. Just so happens adapting songs to suit the moment is a super mom skill that I’m very proud to have mastered.)

We started in Level 1, and have since made our way all the way up to Level 4 in a matter of one year. Obviously, a lot has changed in a year. Class is not very relaxing or all that fun for me as I run around and make sure Kendall doesn’t fling himself face first down the slide like he does at home. I like to at least keep up the illusion that I’m raising a civilized human while out in public. I don’t get to really meet and chat with new moms anymore. We just don’t have time as we pass each other while chasing our toddlers. And yes, there’s that whole “toddler” thing. This is no longer a class of babies. There is not a baby to be seen in Level 4. It is chock full of terrorist toddlers, pushing boundaries, pushing buttons, and some are even pushing other kids.

At class yesterday a boy, probably around 18 or 19 months old, straight up walked up behind Kendall and pushed him over. Not like an, “Oops! Didn’t see you there, buddy!” push, but like a “WTH are your doing standing up? Boom!” kind of push. Luckily, they were standing on a really soft mat and Kendall is pretty unfazed by being knocked down. It happens about 10 times a day with the dogs. The mom quickly apologized, and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. The boys went on their way, but I noticed the boy, let’s call him BamBam, kept having run ins with others in the class. His mom kept going on and on about how he need to “be nice!” and continued chasing him. Toward the end of the class BamBam walked up to another boy sitting on the parachute and, unprovoked, began hitting him HARD on the top of the head repeatedly.

What followed created a tense sea of awkwardness. The mom of BamBam, for whatever reason, didn’t react right away (and it’s very possible that her view of him was obstructed at that time). The mom of the boy who was hit rushed to him, very sternly grabbed BamBam’s arm, pushed him away, and sharply and a little loudly said “NO!”, which I have to say, I think she was actually showing a lot of restraint there. BamBam’s mom appeared offended that the other mom touched her son and disciplined him. She shouted out a halfhearted “sorry” with the tone of “Uhhh…how dare you?” Visibly upset the rest of class, the mom of the boy who was hit had a meeting with the center director as everyone was leaving.

So now we’ve advanced to the level where Kendall gets to run up slides and jump on the mini trampoline and I get to wade through the sticky mess of how to deal with my toddler and other people’s toddlers when all the toddlers are trying out their new found physical powers on each other, and really, it’s not so much about dealing with the toddlers as it is dealing with the parents. Joy. Not that this new level of fun doesn’t extend beyond the doors of Gymboree. It’s just a perfect microcosm, magnifying the next bump in the road of development for both toddler and parent.

The opportunity to learn from other’s public embarrassment was not lost on me. I’ve pondered over the last 24 hours how I would have behaved as BamBam’s mom. I’d like to think that not long after accosting the second child and long before it escalated to beating another over the head, I would have taken Kendall out of class instead of chiding, “be nice!” repeatedly as he went about his terrorizing ways. Would I have accepted BamBam’s mom’s apology as easily had he done more than just push Kendall down on a soft mat? Would I have done more than just remove Kendall from the situation if BamBam were hitting him over the head? Would I have shouted NO and grabbed BamBam’s arm? I don’t know, but, I’m careful not to judge too harshly or publicly, knowing full well that Karma, the bitch, could very well turn the tables on me at any moment as we get deeper and deeper into the shady realm of toddlerhood.

It would be kind of nice to go back to worrying about being cooler than the ceiling fan right now.

Kendall is 15 months and 1 week old

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What are you smiling at?

What is so funny about me saying no? What? It is not funny.
STOP laughing. Cease and desist, I tell you!
Step away from the dog bowl/computer/trashcan/health hazard and nobody gets hurt.
What? Are you calling my bluff? You think I won’t rip your arms from your body if you take a step closer? Okay, you may be right, but I will YELL VERY LOUD!!
NOOOOO!!!
And I will clap my hands in your face because that’s what a book says to do.
I’m mean and I’m CLAPPING.  
Look. I am now yelling at you, and clapping, AND making a very mean mommy face.  
This is NOT funny. At. All. 
Stop the belly laughs. Stop it. I am one thousand percent serious. 
Stop making that face. You are making me want to laugh. STOP IT! You are not playing fair!!  
Hold on… I’ll be right back… I must slip into the other room to laugh.

This does NOT mean you’ve won.

Kendall is 14 and a half months old and thinks is HILARIOUS to defy me.  No respect.

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