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Kenny and I have called in sick all week.   Meaning, we’ve  stayed home sick together (no activities, playdates or unnecessary errands).    Casey’s been out of town the last three days on top of it,  and Dudley is way deprived of walks.   I wish he’d get a little sick so he’d leave us alone for a while, instead of trying to eat our snotty kleenex and stealing Kenny’s stuffed animals.

It’s nothing serious – We’ve just got monster colds, and though we both went to the doctor, there’ s really nothing other than rest and orange juice that we can do about it.   Kenny’s a pretty good sick companion.   We’ve played with every toy in his room, he’s learned to blow his nose (kind of) and we’ve eaten an entire loaf of banana-chocolate chip bread in the last 24 hours (ok, I ate more than my half).   Feed a cold and starve a fever, right?   At least our appetites aren’t lagging.

I even let him watch a whole hour of TV this morning, so I could try and get some housework done while I had the energy.   He was a Sesame Street zombie by the end, and was actually glad when the end credits rolled and I turned it off.   By tonight, for the first time since Saturday, he started running in circles (one of his signature energy-burning moves) and giggling at a funny song I sang.   He even resisted bedtime, which I was glad of, if only to mean that he is feeling better.   I can’t say I feel much better, but surely I’ve hit the peak and things are going to improve from here.   Casey’s actually lucky he’s out of town… I’ve been in the same sweats since Monday and my hair is starting to form dreadlocks.  

I’d better drag myself into the shower and find some lipstick before his plane rolls in tomorrow…

We don’t let Kenny watch TV very often.   In fact, it’s safe to say that he watches Sesame Street no more than one day a week, and no more than three times a week, I let him watch one 15 minute episode (sometimes 2) of “Boz” –  a great cartoon for kids that’s endorsed by MOPS International.

It never fails, though, three or four times a day, he’ll look up with a hopeful and charming smile and say, “You wanna watch some Boz?” or “I can watch ONE Boz?”   He responds pretty well to a “no” though he is appropriately bummed.

The music CDs on the other hand, are getting out of control.   For over a year, the only CD he ever wanted to listen to was Rodney Atkins’ “If Your Goin’ Through Hell” (an odd choice for a happy one-year-old, though his favorite track is “These are My People”).   But now, in the car, it’s Veggie Tales’  Sunday Morning Songs  (which he calls “Larry Cucumber CD”), Veggie Tales  Worship Songs (which he  calls “Kids singing Larry Cucumber”)  Sesame Street’s Greatest Hits (which he calls “Funny Guys Singing”) and Boz – The Collection (which he just calls, “Boz”); at home it’s any one of an assortment of kid’s music, which is varied enough to keep me sane.   He wants music on all day.  

But in the car, it’s becoming a battle ground.   He will start off assuming: “Boz on right now.”   Then polite: “You wanna listen to Boz Songs?” Then frantic, “I WANNA LISTEN TO BOZ!” all within the time frame it takes me to buckle him into the car.   If I say no, he goes through the list of all the other ones that he knows are in the CD changer.   If I *gasp* say, “NO, Honey, Mommy wants to listen to the radio,” there is hysteric cries and screams until I 1) Give in or 2) Roll down all the windows and drive fast, hoping the chilly air will distract his wails.   I’m kidding about #2, though its crossed my mind  on occasion.  

If I leave  “my” radio on, he’ll usually quiet down to sniffles after five minutes or so, only to pipe up again with the same round of questions everytime the DJ talks, or a commercial comes on.   By that point, any enjoyment I may have gotten out of a little dose of NPR or country radio is shot, so I sigh and turn on the Kenny Collection.

Any advice for how to reclaim my car stereo??   This is honestly the only real thing we battle over.   He’s a really reasonable kid about everything else.   What can I do?   We are in the car A LOT.   We live 30 minutes from everything (45 from my chiropractor, whom I see every week), and I feel like we’re in the car an hour or more a day.   When his music is on, he’s happy, sings along, or listens quietly.   90% of the time, I give in, but there’s got to be a reasonable way to compromise.   Can you reasonably compromise with a two-year-old???

Kenny started asking me this question about a week ago.   He asks it every time I: A) Tell him to do (or not do) something, and B)  Every time  he wants to do something that he knows he may not be allowed to do.  

For example, he loves to eat grapes, and I am very strict about either cutting them in half, or watching him bite each one in half.   He’ll pop one whole in his mouth, I’ll make him spit it out and bite it, and he’ll say, “What do little boys do?” I’ll say, “Little boys obey their Mamas and bite their grapes in half.”   And then he’ll do it with no complaint.   Or I’ll catch him pulling a chair over to climb up and reach something that is very specifically too high for him to touch and he’ll see me looking at him and ask, “What do little boys do?” I’ll say, “They obey their Mamas and don’t stand on chairs.”

Every time he climbs in his car seat, it’s “What do little boys do?” and every time I tell him it’s time for a nap, the same question.   I’m not really sure where it came from.   It’s bewildering and cute all at once,  perplexing, and yet I really think he’s learning about making choices for himself through this odd game.   I’m not sure why he’s asking in the third person, but maybe he’s trying to find out if rules are for everybody (or rather, all little boys), or just for him.

I figured out yesterday that I can turn it around to great effect.   When he wouldn’t stop climbing on a particularly dangerous set of stairs at my parent’s house yesterday, I said, “Kenny, little boys obey their Mamas when they say no climbing.”     He looked up, almost surprised, and got off the stairs.

He’s also starting to understand compliments and praise.   The other day when we were playing t-ball in the backyard, after he really whacked one (that kid is a slugger!), I said, “Great job, Kenny!   That was a good one!”   A few moments later, I hit a ball just as far, and Kenny looked up and said, “Good job, Mama!   That was a good one!” and ran over and hugged my knee.   Today during his nap, I started setting up a few Christmas decorations, and when he came down, he looked at the dining room table with it’s red velvet runner and red topiary, and said, “That’s pretty, Mama!”

We set out before dinner and got our Christmas tree today, too.   When we stood it up in the living room, Kenny sighed, “Woooooow!   That’s our tree!”   Sometimes it’s hard to remember that he’s only two!

Happy Thanksgiving to all!   Casey, Kenny and I headed out to my parent’s house for a feast with my sister’s family and some friends.  

We started the day with a brisk walk, and lots of running for the dogs… all to prevent losing  the turkey to a counter-surfing weimaraner…

Kenny finally got to sit at the kids’ table (instead of a highchair) and he was so proud.   I don’t think he actually ate anything but bread and butter (and pie) but he sure had fun…

We all had fun, and though it may take several days for our stomachs to recover, it sure is decadent to eat two pieces of pie in one night and not feel too guilty about it…

I haven’t been writing much lately.   I’ve been under the weather, the weather itself has been miserably cold and dark and windy (oh, I miss Arizona winters!!), and I’ve had such bad writer’s block I haven’t gone near my blog in days.     Now that Kenny is TWO, the milestones have slowed way down and there’s only so many cute-anecdote-kind-of posts you can write before you fear that your readers are going to gag.

Tonight Casey is headed out for a guys night out… 10 cent wings and Monday night football at the local family restaurant… that’s the kind of guys’ night that makes a wife proud.   But he noticed that in spite of my encouragement at his going, I was a little down while cleaning up dinner.   He said, “Do you need anything before I go?”   And I said, “We’re out of ice cream.   I wish I had some ice cream.”

Well that sweet man put on his coat and drove to the nearest quickie-mart (which is 5 miles and 10 minutes away in our boondocks of the woods) and bought me a pint of Chubby Hubby.   He dashed in, kissed me and left just in time to meet his friends.

He oughta have guys nights more often…

This is a question I hear no less than 40,000 times every day.   I’ve heard of the two-year-old’s incessant “Why?” but I find myself bewildered and even sometimes (*gasp*) secretly annoyed at this little addition to Kenny’s daily infinite ration of words.

I didn’t mind so much when this question only referred to objects – after all, Kenny has such a great vocabulary because he’s always asking questions!!   But now he has begun to apply this one to sounds, songs, situations and generally anything he wants me to explain to him.   Driving in the car, he points at the stoplight (which seconds before he identified as, “Light is GREEN!   Green says GO!”)   I say, “That’s the stoplight, Kenny.   You know that.”   “What is it?” and it turns out that he really wants me to explain why it’s there and what the cars are doing about it.   Another second passes, and it’s, “What’s that?” this time, pointing to the car radio where one of his CDs is playing.   “That’s Ernie, singing ‘Rubber Ducky.'” I say, even though he has been singing along since it started.   “What is it?” and I explain about the Sesame Street CD we bought and that Ernie has a duck in his bathtub just like Kenny.   As soon as I finish that one, he points out the window, “What’s that?” and having no idea which of the 100 things out there he’s pointing at, I start naming them.   He keeps repeating his question until I have correctly identified everything within sight, and he relaxes, satisfied.

I’m happy that he’s such an inquisitive little sponge, but the days of quietly day-dreaming in the car are definitely over.   At least until he turns into a mono-syllabic teenager…

What Mommy doesn’t love flipping through a magazine in those few spare moments of the day?   And what Mommy wouldn’t love to have a relevant, easy to read, hip, funny magazine to read right on the computer?   No toddlers pulling out pages, or coloring on the articles, no $4.50 at the checkout, only to realize that you bought the same magazine last week…

The Family Groove  is a funky, yet “functional” cyber magazine that focuses on the family, without assuming that a magazine aimed at Moms needs to be fluffy and splenda-sweet.   It’s kind of like Vogue meets Real Simple meets “Dear Abby.”   There are sections on Lifestyle&Home, Health&Beauty, and even a “BumpWatch” for the readers with Wilson basketballs where their abs used to be.

In their own words….

 THE FAMILY GROOVE is the first-of-its kind national, online
magazine for parents (even grandparents or godparents or
anyone else who has kids in their life). We’ll keep you on the
beat with hip tips, top trends and everything else you need
for living high style with kiddies in tow. You’ll find everything
from advice on raising socially conscious children to how to
save your sex life to the best local restaurants. We provide
informed, fun and vital content with a worldly perspective while
connecting you to what’s happening on the local level.
Best of all, it’s free!

It’s guilt-free web-browsing… entertaining and informative, and hey – it’s about your family, right?   So next time your toddler is unexpectedly amusing himself and you find a free moment to surf, go check it out!

As I have mentioned before, Kenny was an early talker, and talks very, very well for his age.   He is conjugating verbs, using correct pronouns and even dabbling in past, present and future tense.   Enough to make a grammar-junkie like me proud enough to pop.

But he has these little inflections of speech that are difficult for your average observer to understand…. even Casey often has to ask for a translation.   It’s getting clearer by the day, but still comically two-ish…

For example, he is perfectly capable of pronouncing the hard “g” sound, yet still pronounces certain words with a “d”… “Damma,” “Dammie and Dampie,” and “Do it a-din!”   But he says, “Go,” “gorilla” and “gonads” (don’t ask) perfectly well.   He’ll say, “Not that one!” clearly, but then say, “My fumb is tuck in my gwove.”   He’ll crow, “Let’s buy it right now!” in the store, then wail, “I don’ wanna eat my bwoc-wee!” at dinner.   “What’s dose dies doin’?” and “What’s dat lady doin’?” are his favorite phrases of late, usually accompanied by a loud voice and a pointing finger, and repeated enough times to make the accused party and me blush.

Then there are the almost-right words… anytime he has a broken fingernail or a hangnail, he runs to me and says, “Mama!   I   have a toenail!   Get the clippers!”

My favorite, though, is when he has heard me say something that he kind-of understands, yet hasn’t caught the exact word yet, and wants to clarify things.   Today for fifteen minutes he repeated, “Where are we detting the plaind?” and it wasn’t until we were in the car on the way to Home Depot that I realized that he must have heard me tell Casey on the phone that I was off to pick up another gallon of paint.   Then as we strolled through to the paint department, he told everyone we passed, “We’re detting PLAINT!”

November 12, 2005…

 November 12, 2006…

November 12, 2007…

As I wrote last week, Casey and I took off for Mexico for a conference for an organization we are involved in, leaving Kenny for the first time for more than one night.   All in all, it went great.   But we’re still “recovering.”

Actually, Casey and I got back on Sunday night, and turned around Monday morning and drove to New York City (with Kenny) as Casey had some meetings and a nice hotel room.   Kenny and I tagged along and spent a day and a half strolling up and down 5th Avenue, going to the Central Park Zoo (it was 45 degrees and raining, but that didn’t faze Kenny’s first glimpse of a real monkey!), running around FAO Schwartz (we actually stood in line and were the first customers in for the day… the entire sales staff lines up at the front door and gives a whooping round of applause to the first ones to stream in each day – that went over like a parade for Kenny, who thought it was all for him!), and exploring the M&M factory store (Kenny calls M&Ms “potty treats” and thought that he must be in heaven, because I let him eat an entire handful without producing anything in the potty first…).   We even shared a king-sized bed, Kenny in the middle, as he’s too big for a crib, and we weren’t sure about cramming a roll-away in a New York hotel room.

But though we’ve been back on our “normal schedule” since yesterday, there is still quite a bit of “re-programming” to be done.   I was warned by nearly all of my mommy-friends that when you leave your kids for any length of time, you have to accept that there is a new sheriff in town for the span you are gone.   And that the re-institution of The Boss (that is, The Mommy) is an occasionally painful process.

For one, I don’t think there was much of a schedule while we were gone.   There certainly wasn’t one in New York.   I think  there  must have also been an inordinate ratio of “yes” to “no” answers from the grandparents, too,  as he’s had more temper tantrums in the last 24 hours than he has in the last 2 months.   The concept of actually doing what I say (or not doing what I say no to) seems like such a foreign tongue to my sweet little prince that I almost called my in-laws and said, “What have you done  with the real Kenny, because this kid ain’t him.”   Today he actually uttered the dreaded “Papa let me!” and I wondered how a small boy of two could already have grasped the concept of adult manipulation.

We’ve also had an awful time getting him to go to bed – though that seems to be stemming more from insecurity and wondering if we’re going to disappear on him again.

Though I believe my in-laws when they say that everything was “perfect” I am realizing that the mind of a two-year-old runs deep, and he was probably unable to fully express what he may have been feeling or wondering or worried about.   I know that he’s still learning to express his feelings.   In fact, when they left Monday morning, within an hour, Kenny broke down bawling in the middle of playing.   After a little questioning, I asked, “Do you miss Papa and Gramma?” and he wailed, “Don’t say that, Mama!” which I took for a yes.   He did the same thing a little later in the car on the way to the city.   Then last night, as Casey and I picked up the babysitter for our weekly tennis night (which we’ve missed two weeks in a row) he started to wail again and cried, “Where you goin’?   You stay here!!” something he’s never done before.   When we got home two hours later, he was up in bed, waiting for our return.

Today was better; he actually got a good nap and we spent the entire day playing and doing quiet things.   I also got him back on his healthy eating track – lots of good fruits and whole grains and no sweets (ok – there were four M&Ms somewhere in there), diluted juice, fresh milk and organic yogurt.   I believe 100% that a kid’s diet can make or break their daily behavior.   Between being with the grandparents for four days, then being on the road and in hotels for three, his indigestion was starting to show.   He also had my undivided attention for most of the day – I am so completely worn out from the travel and such that I put off housework and catch-up work today and just laid low.   It was a rainy day and perfect for reading books, playing blocks and making pumpkin muffins.

Another strange side effect of the trip away is that since being away from Kenny for four days, I have a slightly expanded view of him now.   I’ve read that for the first year or so of life, a baby doesn’t see themselves as a separate person – they see themselves as an extension of their mother (or whomever is the primary caregiver).   But I think I’ve also been viewing Kenny all this time as an extension of me.   We are almost never apart.   I think there are maybe six hours a week (not counting sleep time) when we are away from each other, and it never occurred to me to view him as entirely his own person.   We we returned from Mexico, his voice sounded different, he looked different and his constant babble was different.   Not really, but I was able to see it as simply his, not just absorb it as part of my daily dwelling.

So my conclusion is that an occasional trip for just Casey and I once or twice a year is mostly a good thing – for us as well as him.   But it sure is strange the first time.