Replaced

Have you heard of this kid’s cartoon on PBS, “Caillou?” If you’re the parent of a toddler-elementary school kid, then the answer is probably yes. If you’re not, you’re a lucky bastard, because you haven’t. Now as kids’ cartoons go, it’s actually quite stomach-able. It’s about a 4-year-old boy and his family, and all the things that sweet, well-behaved 4-year-old boys like to do. No pulling wings off of flies on this show. Or does that come later? I don’t know. It was just my sister and me growing up, so I didn’t have a boy’s influence to tell me when was the right time to start asserting my dominance by torturing creatures smaller than myself. In fact, the thought never occurred to me. I only found out about those backyard atrocities later in life, when I started dating boys and they shared that very upsetting information with me. (Note: I don’t mean to be sexist here. Maybe there are girls who do that stuff too. But I’ve never met one.)

Anyway, there is absolutely nothing wrong with “Caillou.” I mean, the animation is a little lazy, and the outfits are just plain weird, but I assume the latter is just a Canadian thing. Which is also probably why everyone is so nice to each other all the time. Indeed, the only real problem I have with the show is that it’s the only thing that Oz ever wants to watch anymore. Ever. No more Buzz and Woody. No more Curious George. Only occasionally does he ask to watch “Cars.” Nope, it’s all Caillou all the time in our house. It took a while for me to get totally sick of the show, but I’m there now. Which means we probably have about another four solid months of this before Oz moves onto something else.

I was feeling pretty wiped tonight, so even though John had a long day at work as well, he suggested he take Oz to the toy store and then pick up pizza on the way home, so that I could get a little time alone. (More later on how absolutely amazing my husband is and all the insecurities that brings up in myself.) Of course Oz was all about a trip to the toy store. So I helped him put his froggy boots and rain coat on over his nap jammies (he now insists on wearing jammies to nap as well as to bed, and I don’t usually bother to change him back into clothes from post-nap to bath time), and got him out the door. However, as John started putting him in his seat and I stepped back into the doorway to wave goodbye, it dawned on Oz that I wasn’t coming with. This was a deal breaker.

Immediately he started crying, tears running down his crumpled little face as he scrambled out of his car seat and into John’s arms. I felt so awful watching him reach his little arms out for me over John’s shoulder that I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Okay, okay, Mommy will come too. Just let me get my shoes.”

John: No, don’t give into him. He’ll be fine as soon as we leave. Hey, Oz, don’t you want to go to the toy store?

Oz: Noooooo! Mommy! I stay with Mommy!

Me: It’s okay, I’ll just come.

Oz: Mooommmmyyy!

John: Hey Oz, we can look for Caillou toys at the store.

Me: John, I don’t think that’s gonna-

Oz: Okay! Bye Mommy!

And off they went. I had a fleeting feeling of jealousy before I went off to take a nice, long, hot shower. Did I mention that I love Caillou?

Entitlement

I had an awesomely ridiculous interaction with a woman at Safeway today, and I just had to share.

I had just gotten in line with my cart full of groceries. It was one of those super long carts with the car on the front, where Oz was sitting of course. I was squeezed in between the cart and the conveyor belt, my arms full of groceries, when the woman in front of me apparently decided she didn’t want her items anymore. She turned to me, her two items in her hands and:

Entitled Shrew: Oh! I need to get by.

Me: (looking back at my cart and the wide open path next to it)…um, okay. I’ll just…move it…over (trying to inch the cart over with my one free hand.)

ES: I have a bad back. You need to back out your cart.

Me: (sigh) Okay, sure. (Dumping my arm-load of groceries and unwedging myself.)

ES: (after I’ve backed out my cart for her) That’s a good girl.

Me: (!!!) I’m sorry? Don’t talk to me like that.

ES: (!!!)

Me: I’m happy to move my cart for you, but-

ES: You listen here! I’ve worked for doctors and lawyers for over 20 years, and you’re just an idiot! (Storms off.)

Me: Hahahahahaha!

I just had to share. I mean, girl? Girl?!! I know she was older, but I haven’t been a girl in a very, very long time. Ick. It was so condescending. I’m not sure why she was surprised at how I took that. And her sense of entitlement was unbelievable. Also her logic. How her work history could have anything to do with my intelligence level is beyond me. But then again, I am, apparently, an idiot. I sure hope she doesn’t apply to jobs that way.

The Dreaded Dentist

To cap off a week of traumatizing experiences for poor Oz (read below post re: haircut), today he had his first dentist appointment. John and I had done a lot of preparation ahead of time, explaining to him all week long at each toothbrushing that soon the dentist was going to look inside his mouth at his teeth. We even reran the episode of Caillou, in which he is afraid to go to the dentist but finds out how much fun it is. And he’s talked about it frequently over the past day or so: “I go dentist tomorrow!” “I go dentist today, like Caillou!” So I was pretty hopeful that things would go smoothly. Not convinced, but hopeful.

Things went pretty well this morning. I got him dressed, telling him today was the day we were going to the dentist, oh boy! He ran to the car in his bare feet, he was so excited. We got there, and he was as charming as he could be to the receptionist, with big smiles all around at her and the other patients in the waiting room. Everything was going swell, until we got into the examination room. The minute he saw that giant chair, he started to freak out. The hygienist showed him her special toothbrush that tickled and made a funny noise, and he was all about pushing the button on it. But he wouldn’t let her direct it at him. And even though she showed him how the cool chair could move up and down and tilt forward and back, he still didn’t want to sit in it. So I sat in it with him, and that seemed alright. But as soon as the hygienist put on her gloves, he freaked out again and covered his ears. The poor kid has had a tough time with ear infections.

“No no, Oz. She’s not going to look in your ears, don’t worry. She just wants to look at your teeth. She’s not even going to touch them with her fingers, she just wants to look at them and brush them.” He didn’t buy it. She gave him some gloves of his own, which he liked, so occasionally he opened his mouth barely wide enough for her to get a quick look. Then she gave him a new toothbrush and toothpaste and showed me how to do a better job brushing, of course, because apparently I can’t go right brushing, whether it’s my own teeth or my son’s. I did have a brief moment of satisfaction each time he bit down on the toothbrush and refused to let her move it. “Ha, you see how easy it is to brush a toddler’s teeth, then,” I wanted to say.

Then the dentist came in, and that’s when it happened. Although I had changed his diaper right before we left the house, apparently the strain was causing Oz to pee continuously, so when the dentist finally came in, the idea of this new intruder was just the last straw. His diaper and pants could hold no more. He peed again, and that pee had nowhere to go but up out of the top of his pants and right onto my lap. I haven’t been peed on in almost 2 years, by the way, so I wasn’t used to it. Simultaneously, the dentist, hygienist and I said, “Eeeew.”

In the end, we didn’t do the x-rays or cleaning. I think they figured he’s young enough to get away without it, and they wanted him to warm up to the idea of the dentist before doing anything to invade his personal space. I was thankful for it, because I really couldn’t take another stealth pee attack. Thankfully he was in good spirits when we left, especially since he got to pick out a toy. I’ll be sure to remind him of that when we go back in six months. I’ll also remind myself to bring a change of pants.

The Haircut

Does it make sense that each time Oz gets his hair cut is worse than the time before? I swear, the first time he got one, he just sat there, curiously watching the stylist and showing off his dimples to every passer-by. Of course, he was under a year old, which may have had something to do with it. But due to the absurdity of both the straightness and rapidity of growth of his hair, we’ve been back to the kids’ salon many times since that first blissful experience. And even with all the animal crackers, tv screens, fun colors and prizes, each time has been less successful than the one before.

Jump to yesterday. John had a rare day off, and we were out and about doing errands. He decided he needed a hair cut, so we went on down to the local hair cutting chain. John mentioned that Oz could really use one too. I had to admit that Oz’s hair was getting pretty unruly, and as today was picture day at school, I reluctantly agreed to the endeavor, knowing full-well what lay ahead. There would be no prizes or animal crackers, but as those things didn’t work anyway, I figured what the heck.

It was actually worse than I expected, if that’s even possible. Oz screamed. He cried. He whipped his head back and forth. He lost his shoe. He climbed all over John as we both tried to secure his arms and legs and head so the poor woman (who did not look at all fazed by his behavior), could get at his hair without cutting off his ear.

At one point, I wondered why John was doing such a poor job holding Oz down. After all, he is a lot stronger than I am. I found out later that apparently Oz was jumping up and down on John’s junk the whole time. Ouch. Okay, John actually did a pretty good job then, all things considered.

We muscled through, and after we shed some blood, sweat, and/or tears (yes, Oz did get nicked once. That should be great for next time), we emerged from the salon with less hair and more emotional baggage.

The picture below was taken on the way home. He was asleep about 30 seconds after this was taken.

Note the crooked bangs. But really, that woman deserves a medal for what she was able to do, under the circumstances.

Growing Up, Not Out

Man, I’ve really been feeling like a failure as a grown-up lately. For one thing, my biggest claim to for-real adulthood is being the super awesome mom that I always dreamed of being. Unfortunately, Oz and I butt heads quite a bit lately, and I end up losing my temper at least once or twice a day. And then I fall into a shame spiral for yelling at that sweet, adorable, impossible little imp. And yes, he’s still pushing, grabbing, and generally being a nuisance to his teachers and fellow preschoolers. But the parenting fairy-tale-turned-reality isn’t the only thing getting me down. I feel like I’m just falling short in every area of my life.

John has had to work late for the past two weeks, and I’m exhausted by the end of the day. Our evening routine of lovely family dinner, bath, bed for Oz, snuggle time for John and me, and bed for the adults has gone out the window. I give Oz a bath when and if I can get him there without a fight. I give him grilled cheese or macaroni and cheese for dinner, since that’s all he wants to eat right now, while he watches back-to-back episodes of Caillou, just so I can get through the evening before putting him to bed. Then John comes home, and we eat something I prepared earlier or make hastily on the spot. Either way we don’t eat before 8:30. And not eating at the table has really got me down, since that’s something I feel is really important for family unity. It’s just such a struggle to get Oz there that I feel it’s hardly worth it when it’s just him and me. I know I should do it anyway, but I keep telling myself “tomorrow, tomorrow.”

In fact, “tomorrow” seems to be my motto of late. I’ve been avoiding the dealership for a month, after they finally got the right parts in, because we have one car, and it’s too hard to take the shuttle with a toddler and a car seat. I haven’t been to the dentist in two years. I have a bill sitting on my counter as we speak for my mammogram for $373 because my insurance decided it would only foot half the bill. (I guess I should have considered the cost before getting a test to find out IF I HAVE CANCER!) I just mailed my valentines yesterday (February 16*), Oz’s potty training has gone from promising to non-existent, and I’ve yet to go back to the lady parts doctor for my follow-up. Did I mention that, despite my efforts to lose weight before we get pregnant with the next baby, I am actually 20 pounds overweight, and gaining? WTF?

Ugh, don’t you ever just want a break from life? Just for, like, a week? Unfortunately, I’m no longer a giggling school girl (okay, so I never giggled, even as a school girl), and spring break doesn’t come just in time to keep me from blowing my top. Oh well, I know how to deal with this stress . . . pass the cookies! Aha, okay, so I think I know where those 20 pounds came from.

*Please note that when I wrote this earlier today, I stated that yesterday was the 16th, when in fact, yesterday was the 15th. I left the error because I felt it perfectly illustrates my present state of mind.

The Pusher, the Taker, Part 2

Ugh, what a month. I know I promised a lot more Oz stories from Christmas, but I’ve kind of had my hands full since we got back into the swing of normal, post-holiday life. Oz has been on his worst behavior, and (bad mommy alert) it’s been difficult to keep him on my good side lately.

For one thing, I was pulled aside again on Tuesday, when I picked up Oz from school. My buddy, Teacher Bev, told me he’d been given a couple of time-outs for pushing and grabbing, and that she and the aides had to stay on top of him the whole class. And here’s the weird part: she seemed genuinely upset. Her voice was all shaky, like she was holding back her anger. I couldn’t help but wonder how she could possibly have been a preschool teacher for 16 years and not have run into this problem enough times to make it rote. And while outwardly I apologized for Oz’s behavior and promised to address it (yet again) at home, this conversation actually sparked an inner conflict for me, which has been haunting me for the past two days. The two sides of this conflict are as follows:

1. Shame and blame: I’m the one who is home with him, so clearly any imperfections he may have are a direct result of my parenting. Maybe he’s home alone with me too much without the company of kids his age. Maybe I don’t play with him enough. Maybe I dote on him too much. Maybe he’s overstimulated. Or understimulated. Maybe he has too many toys. Maybe he’s spoiled. Maybe I yell at him too much. Maybe I’m too physical with him. I mean, I never raise a hand to him, but if he’s being a little jerk, I have been known to grab his toys away from him as punishment. Maybe we rough-house too much, and he thinks it’s okay to wrestle with other kids like he does with mom and dad. In the end, clearly it’s all my fault that he’s a deliquent child, and when he ends up in juvie for lifting cars and assaulting a police officer, everyone will say, “Well, you know, his mother just didn’t know to handle him. So what can you expect?”

2. He’s 2: What the heck is a 2-year-old supposed to do, but grab toys and push? I mean, isn’t that kind of just their way? I don’t want to down-play the importance of teaching how to be polite and responsible and to share. I think those qualities are extremely important, and I think a lot of kids today have no idea how to be or do any of those things. They are certainly priorities in our household. But, again, he’s 2, for crying out loud. What more can we do besides set a good example and continue to revisit this problem with him at home? I mean, is he really that much worse than all the other kids? He must be, or Bev wouldn’t single me out, right? But it just seems strange that in all her years of teaching, he should be at the top of her list of problem children.

This forces me to wonder if there are elements to Oz’s personality that I’ve been ignoring, just going along thinking that I have the most perfect child ever born. I know I’m not alone, because most parents think that about their kids, as well they should. But I don’t want to overlook something serious, simply because I love my little boy more than anything else in the world. I want him to grow up to be a happy, strong, kind, and giving person. And honestly, most of the time I see those elements in him right now. But it worries me that he’s apparently so much worse than the other kids in his class.

So, really, it comes down to this: either Oz has a real problem, and we are going to have to take extra measures to correct it, or Teacher Bev is a loony, and he’s just being a normal 2-year-old. I suppose both could be true. Either way, something has to change. I’m thinking of taking him out of this preschool and enrolling in a parent participation preschool, like the one we did last year. I liked being a part of a community and getting to know other parents and kids. I thought this new experience would be good for both of us, giving us both some independence, but maybe Oz just isn’t ready. He’s really young, after all. When I was a kid, you didn’t go to preschool until 3 or 4, if at all. A lot of kids didn’t have any experience with school until they got to kindergarten. I think I was so excited about getting some time to myself, that I didn’t fully appreciate the fact that, as smart and developed as Oz is, maybe he’s just not ready. And you know what? That’s okay. This little space in time is so short. If I have to be with him 24/7 for a little bit longer, well that’s just fine. There will come a day when I will wish he would spend some time with me.

Every once in a while, I need to remind myself to slow down. I’m so anxious for Oz to be on the right track, for him to develop normally and become this whole person, that I forget that he is a whole person, right now. He just needs my guidance for a little while longer, like, say, the next 16 to 50 years. And you know what? Come to think of it, that sounds just wonderful to me.

Lock Your Doors! I’m Goin’ for Chinese Food!

We got home from two weeks at my in-laws yesterday and promptly unpacked our five suitcases and six carry-ons. Yup, we’re those people in the airport that you hate. But don’t be too judgmental, because your day will come, if it hasn’t already.

Anyway, I was planning on making spaghetti and meatballs, since no trip to the grocery store was required for that. However, when I opened the tomato sauce jar from the fridge, it made a whooshing sound. I looked down to discover a thick layer of mold on the top. I screamed, threw it in the sink, and decided on Chinese take-out. John usually goes, but he was busy trying to fix the computer, so I went for it. I threw my black hoodie over my black tank and sweats, and turned to John. I said, “I have no make-up on. Do you think I’ll scare everyone?”

John looked up from the computer, eyed me up and down and said, “Not unless they think you’re robbing them.”

Aw, thanks, Sweetie!

The Pusher, the Taker, The Candlestick Maker

Sorry for the hiatus, but the holidays have been, well, just what they always are: busy, exciting, stressful, and full of family and travel. So after taking most of December off, I’m back, with a lot of material. Oz was in fine form this holiday season. But first, I think I should catch you up on my pre-Christmas discovery: Duh duh dummmm … Oz is a pusher.

No, he’s not dealing to his fellow preschoolers. He is, however, pushing them, physically. In addition, let me remind you, to taking and hoarding their toys. Wow, he must be fun to be around. When his teacher first told me about the pushing, I was shocked. I mean, Oz has never shown any kind of aggression before. He’s never been a biter, hitter, or kicker. Generally he’s loving and gentle, choosing hugs and kisses over more hostile forms of expression. So I started trying to think about what might be causing this new behavior. Never having seen it myself, it was hard for me to pinpoint it.

But thinking about it, he can be kind of aggressive with his hugs. Sometimes he’s so into it that he knocks his best friend, James, over. Now James is a tough little guy, so he doesn’t mind so much when he loses his footing. But other kids (and their parents, rightly so) might not be so understanding. Also, it’s been a long time since Oz has been around that many kids at one time, in such a small space. The last time he was in that situation was at our parent-participation preschool last year. But he was younger, and I was always there to stop any confrontation before it started. Now he’s on his own, and apparently he’s making a name for himself.

Still, I don’t think he means any harm. As I said before, Oz is very loving and playful, and I’ve never seen him be violent, even when he’s frustrated. My suspicion (and dearest hope) is that he is simply overwhelmed by the amount of activity and has trouble expressing himself. My mother-in-law also told me last week that, when she took him to a play place, he knocked a couple of kids over while trying to hug them. So, maybe he just has too much love to give?

Okay, so maybe I’m in a little bit of denial. But I know my kid, and I know he’s no bully. But regardless of the reason, he needs to stop. So we’ve been talking about it. Before school, after school, before any social situation. And hopefully it will pay off soon. Otherwise, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Today was Oz’s first day of school after our two-week break, and I was really nervous about what he’d do. I didn’t get a chance to talk to the teacher after class, because there were a couple of new kids, and she was busy talking to their parents, but I did ask Oz about his day on the way home.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: Did you have fun at school today?

Oz: Yeah!

Me: Did you push anyone?

Oz: Yeah!

Me: WHAT?! Oz! We’ve talked about this! What the heck, dude?

Oz: …

Me: Sigh. What else did you do? Did you play with toys?

Oz: Yeah!

Me: Did you have a snack?

Oz: Yeah!

Me: (An idea dawning) … Did you fly a plane?

Oz: Yeah!

Me: Did you go to the moon?

Oz: Yeah!

Me: Hmmm… Did you win the Nobel Peace Prize?

Oz: Yeah!

Me: Aha. I see now.

So next time I’d better just stay behind and ask his teacher.

Black Friday Adventures

Thanksgiving started out pretty low-key here in the land of Oz. We woke up, had pancakes, and watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on t.v. We even spotted the Buzz Lightyear balloon a couple of times (and spent the other 2 hours and 59 1/2 minutes of the parade looking for him). Later, we had dinner at a family friend’s house, to which I was told to bring nothing and therefore brought cupcakes and wine, because, really who doesn’t want more of either of those in their life? So really, very little was required of me. That must be why I had enough energy left in me at the end of the day to consider attending some of those midnight Black Friday sales.

I probably wouldn’t have gone if it hadn’t been for the fact that my friend Alice had had the very same idea. She wanted to go to the Toys R Us sale that started at 10pm, while I wanted to go to the Old Navy sale that started at midnight. Perfect, we thought. We’ll go to Toys R Us at 10:00 and Old Navy at midnight! Clearly, we’re new to this Black Friday business, because when we pulled into the Toys R Us parking lot at 10:10, not only was the line out the door and around the corner, but there wasn’t even anywhere to park. And beyond that, people were camped out at the Target next door waiting for the doors to open at 4am!

Needless to say, we decided to forgo Toys R Us and booked it over to Old Navy, anticipating the same kind of crowd. When we got there, there was a small line outside, but as it was only 10:30, we really couldn’t imagine standing outside for an hour and a half in the cold – at least not without some coffee. We decided we’d go and see if we could find a Starbucks that may have stayed open to take advantage of crazies like us. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find an open Starbucks. We did, however, find an open Jack-in-the-Box drive-thru. But once we were in line, we realized it had been a good 6 hours since we’d stuffed ourselves silly, and we were feeling a bit peckish. So instead of coffee, we came away with burgers and cokes. They gave us just the kick we needed to face standing in line for an hour in the cold.

And I’ll tell you, that burger tasted sooo good. But once I was done eating it, I was left with my cold diet coke and a good 45 minutes of waiting in line. In the end, I think the coffee would have been a better choice. Especially since I was at Old Navy for their $5 pajama pant sale, and I needed new pajama pants because I’m too fat for my old ones. A vicious cycle? I prefer to think of it as a delicious cycle!

We had an awesome time, though. With our husbands and kids at home, I felt like I was a tween again, sneaking out at night to go buy Snapple and gum at the Walgreens. Okay, so I never did that, because I was a goody-two-shoes, but my friends did, and it sounded really fun. We did manage to get back to Toys R Us later and find the play-kitchen Alice wanted for her son, and I realized I’d already pretty much gotten everything for Oz that I was planning to. By the time we came back to get my car at the Kohl’s parking lot where we’d met, the previously empty lot was filling up with bleary-eyed shoppers, lining up outside the (now open, damnit!) Starbucks before facing the more daunting line outside of Kohl’s.

Alice and I decided to call it a night. Unlike my teeny-bopper days, we had kids to wake up to in the morning. And when I woke up the next day, I was really glad we’d ended our adventure when we did. Midnight Black Friday shopping is kind of like drinking too much hard alcohol in college. It makes for a really fun night, but I think it will be a while before I do it again.

Gastrointestinal Thanksgiving Pregame, 2010 Edition

Me: A word to the wise – don’t eat a bunch of frosting and then go running right after. I might hurl.

John: Well, I’m not wise, so your words are wasted on me. Perhaps you should say, “A word from the wise.”

Me: I don’t know how wise I am. I’m the one who did it.

John: Yes, but now you know. And you’re wiser.

Me: I doubt it. I’m bound to do it again at some point.

John: Well, then you’re right. You’re not wise either.

Aren’t we perfect for each other?