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

At first glance it seems this is all brought on by a fit of uncontrollable rage that takes over his body and mind, leaving him no choice but to abuse himself and to run into walls on purpose, but upon deeper investigation I have found that this is all very calculated, and there is indeed a method to his madness. Exhibit A being the careful manner in which he looks over one shoulder while sitting on the ground in the process of throwing his head back mid tantrum. See, the boy is smart and still has his wits about him. He’s checking to make sure he’s not going to end up smacking his head atop a toy truck or the corner of a wall. Then he lowers his head, but does it in such a dramatic way that you think you are watching the whole episode in slow motion, you know, sort of like The Matrix.

I mentioned how at his 18 month checkup he smashed his head into a giant mirror on the wall in front of the nurse. It was exactly like when that chick in Disturbing Behavior (bad late 90s movie with Katie Holmes, long before she was ever part of TomKat) smashes her head in the mirror, with the same intent and intensity. I was actually really worried he might have cracked the mirror. Then I followed it up by asking the nurse (who was SHOCKED and let her mouth hang open maybe a little too long) if that was “normal”. She didn’t answer, but instead just raised her eyebrows and typed something on her laptop. Great.

Good news is the pediatrician said it was normal. I mean, I guess that’s good news. She basically told me what my mom’s been telling me for a while, that he is doing it out of frustration and as a way of trying to communicate because he can’t find the words to tell me what he wants (she also told me the pea sized lump under his skin on his forehead is most likely scar tissue from the repeated beatings he’s taken to that particular area).

I think that’s sort of crap considering 1. I speak his super secret language of 30 words that mostly sound a lot like “ass” pretty well. My husband looks to me to translate all the time.

“Ahoose” = juice
“AsssAh” = outside
“Ahhhhs” = bath
“Ahhwah” = Dora
“blahlablah” = Elmo
“Oof”= earth (which is really the moon, but we can’t seem to explain to him that we are standing on earth, not looking at it in the sky… the solar system mural in his room is really screwing with his perception of reality)
“foof” = fruit
“BALL!” = Football!! Give it to me now!! Let’s run! Now chase me!!! TOUCHDOWN!

And 2. I don’t speak slap, nor have I ever let on that I do. Really, where in evolution did young humans learn the super cool ability to hit themselves as a form of communication? Not effective anymore.

So anytime I see him start to hit himself I make it a point to get down on his level, look him in the eyes and calmly ask him to “use his words” or point and show me what he wants. He smiles, asks for me to pick him up, then does something like pointing to the Goldfish and saying, “naanaaNACK!” I reply, “Okay, I know you want more Goldfish, but you are going to have to wait until after lunch, which I’m making right now.” Then, as if I have awakened the beast, I see it all play out again. He turns red, stiffens up, yells, “AhhhhhhhHHHHHHH!!” He looks at me, as if to say, “But I used my FREAKING WORDS and POINTED! And I want Goldfish NOW!!” Then smashes his head into the pantry door, and I do the only thing I know to do… I walk away and try not to let him see me laugh.

Kendall is 18 months old and the pediatrician says that scar tissue may go away in a few years, but I’m not convinced

I was a little nervous about it, but figured it might be good for me.  I was feeling stressed and over-extended when she called me with the idea, and thought stepping away from the internet and email for a week might help me focus a little.  The call actually came when I was in hotel hell with Kendall, and I told myself that I would use this week to really focus on how to tame this wild toddler of mine.

I had a long list of tasks I planned to accomplish during my week of no internet, and I wondered just how anxious and lost I’d feel without being able to check in, google and connect with my friends. I planned to read lots of books on toddler behavior, and hoped my studies would pay off with some new tricks up my sleeve that would help me calm the beast that had taken over Kendall.

However, the week really didn’t go how I had envisioned. It was better. Admittedly, I didn’t accomplish too much more that I normally do during the week (leaving me wondering if I’m just a super awesome multitasker or lazier than I’d like to admit). I didn’t read any books on toddler behavior, but I did watch a lot of Super Nanny. I actually watched more television than usual (but no news, I really wasn’t in the mood to get caught up in the news this week), I read more, I enjoyed my coffee more. In general, I just slowed down.

I felt my stress and anxiety levels decrease throughout the week, I went to bed by 10:30 most nights and I slept like a rock. At the end of the week I also felt physically more relaxed. My shoulders weren’t painfully knotted, my back didn’t hurt, I felt more rested, and most importantly, I felt more relaxed and calm.

A recurring lesson I saw play out in all the Super Nanny episodes is that kids really pick up on your stress and anxiety level, and wouldn’t you know, Kendall seemed a lot more calm by the end of the week, too. We had far fewer tantrums than the week before (although some of that may be attributed to being home and not living out of a hotel), and I wasn’t so quick to get frustrated when the lines of communication weren’t working.  Turns out I didn’t need to read a bunch of books. I just needed to slow down and listen. I needed to listen to him, and I needed to listen to me. I needed to get back in touch with my mommy instinct.

It turned out to be a great experience and something I’m really glad I did. Sure, I have a ton to catch up on now, but nothing so pressing that I can’t step away. I think that’s the most important lesson I learned.  Sometimes I get so caught up in researching and planning, with the best intentions to be the best mom I can be, that I think it gets in the way of me just being… just living… just listening.

Now, I can’t live without the internet forever. I’m just hoping to phase it back into my life in a more balanced way. Still not quite sure how to do that, but I’m hoping if I just be still and listen, I’ll figure it out.

I can’t really share too many more details about the project I was helping out with just yet, but I’ll let you guys know when I can. All I can say is I’m so glad Barb and Metroplex Baby and Kids thought of me for this experiment. It was wonderful to team up with them.

For those of you in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, make sure you check out MetroplexBaby.com. I love going to their events when I can (especially Best and Hottest!), and they always have the latest “Scoop” on what’s happening in the area. Also, head over to my Facebook Fan Page to enter to win tickets to an MBK event this weekend. I’ll be giving away three sets today (November 3rd).

Kendall is 18 months and one day old (holy crap, that is crazy)

Scott has some business to take care of this week back in our old stomping grounds, so we took off on a 2.5 hour flight to DC from Dallas at 8:30 in the morning. I’m not even going to go into detail about how hellacious it was to actually get there, or tell you more than we got there just in time, but our baggage was delayed by a couple hours. No biggie, if that had been the worst of it, I would have been fine. But, of course, it wasn’t.

Unlike my last flight with Kendall, this one was actually terrible. Granted, it was longer, and he’s stronger, but it also seemed like a much more hostile, tense environment. Very judgy. I was edgy from the moment we walked on after we were greeted by a chorus of sighs and groans and eye rolls when they saw my HAPPY child come aboard. We didn’t opt to buy the extra seat for him because, well, we’re cheap like that (even though I did struggle with the safety issue of it). And, honestly, I think the only person who would have benefited from the extra seat would have been Scott because it just would have meant that his lap would have been freed up, not that the noise Kendall was making would have stopped. In fact, had we brought his car seat on board for that extra seat and strapped him in, I’m pretty sure it would have been worse.

Here’s the thing, though, it’s not like Kendall screamed and cried the entire flight. Not at all. Sure, there were a few moments of frustration that came to a boiling point, followed by brief outbursts, but this was certainly not how he behaved even 20% of the flight. I knew it was going to be a long ride when, after only 10 minutes, the frat boy in front of us started huffing and puffing and audibly rolling his eyes every time Kendall would say, “Uh Oh!” and laugh. Sure, he was loud. My kid does not have volume control… or at least I’ve yet to find it, but he wasn’t screaming in this guys ear either. I finally leaned forward and said, “Yeah.. we get it… Uh huh… we gotcha… you’re annoyed.. point made.” He looked shocked that I would even say anything, turned around and said, “Well… it’s not that… it’s just… he keeps waking me up!” To which I replied, “We are doing our very best to keep him quiet,” and not another word or glance was exchanged between us from that point on.  It was going to be too long of a flight to put up with his passive aggressive bull shit, so I’m glad I said something early on. And we were trying very hard.

We had a bag of tricks. It was full of all sorts of new toys and books and snacks galore. Each time Kendall got loud about something, we did our best to distract him. I’d say this worked pretty well for the first hour and a half. Well, what worked the best was the snacks. We just kept feeding him, which of course made the judgy woman to my left give me all sorts of snide looks. Yeah, that’s right. I’m stuffing my kids face to keep him quiet. Judge me. I even gave him two lollipops while on board. Sure, you think I’m that parent that over indulges my child and gives in to his every whim. How wrong you are. The thing is, *I’m* fine with hearing him scream and whine. *I* listen to it ALL DAY LONG. I have no problem telling him NO, but something tells me *now* is not the time to discipline a toddler.

It was exhausting, literally. We busted our asses to keep him entertained and as quiet as possible. And you know what? I am proud of him. I am SO proud of him for the way he behaved. My nearly 18 month old, who is used to tearing around my house and Gymboree and the park from 8:30 to 11 every day, sat on his father’s lap and didn’t even have an all out tantrum.  And if he had, I would totally understand. That’s what was killing me. All these people and their sighs and their eye rolls, they had no idea how GOOD he was being.  And since when does a Sunday morning flight = right to complete silence? It is unreasonable to expect a toddler to be silent or even quiet for two hours, and it’s unreasonable to expect that you will be on a plane with no toddlers.

So, yeah, I guess we were “those parents”, but I really don’t know how we could have avoided it, short of tranquilizing him, which, TRUST ME, the thought crossed my mind many times. We are already dreading the flight back home, and wondering what on earth we can do to make it easier on all of us.

Kendall is 17 and a half months old

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

For example, I will say, “No, Kendall.  Don’t play in the dog water.” He will look me dead in the eyes, put his hand in the dog water with the purpose and precision of a surgeon and then shake his head no, as if to say, “Let me get this straight. THIS is what you don’t want me to do, right? Putting my hand in the dog water just like this? Oh, yes.  I know that. See.  Noooooo.”  

So is he understanding no? Can you punish a 14 month old for deliberately disobeying you when you aren’t even sure if he knows he’s disobeying you? I certainly don’t want to condone the behavior.  It’s one thing when he demonstrates with the dog water, but quite another if he is trying to break into the gas fireplace.

I’ve tried the distraction, positive reinforcement method, but I don’t think he’s getting it.  It’s such a weird place to be, in limbo between baby and child.  I’m not ready for a toddler yet.  I’m just now figuring out what to do with the baby.  Pause, please.

Kendall will be 14 months in the blink of an eye, and 14 shortly after

Kendall is 13 months old, and pulling on my pants, begging for some Veggie Stix