Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Level playing field


Not my son I thought. But I guess every child must, or else there wouldn't be a name for it. Coleman has entered the tumultuous, turbulent, truculent, tempestuous, termagant two's.

It's not terrible, it's not that bad, just surprising. All the whining. AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!! Just this medium pitched, half assed, Tarzan cry, it goes on for about 15 seconds - we say Coleman, stop that, use your words - "I want that juice daddy." All that for juice. It just seems so unnecessary.


And he's not taking no for an answer. He'll ask 5 or 10 times the same question. My mother-n-law says the only way to get him to stop that, is to not answer him after the first one. How can you not? You got this little person asking you the same question over and over again, he's drowning out the TV, it's very annoying.

He's so smart and so lovable, it really surprises me when he acts like - a two year old.

Level 1 is whining.

Level 2 is charging. You take something away from him and walk away, he'll just run at your legs and bounce off of you on to the floor. Then he looks up at you like you knocked him over.

Level 3 is the legs flailing. Usually on a bed, or he's laid himself out on the floor, kicking into the air, in some sort of toddler break dance. Or if he's standing it turns into running in place, coupled with the low grade crying/whining Tarzan yell.

Level 4 is just standing still and screaming. Call the Department of Child Welfare level screaming. Usually reserved for elevators, hallways and family functions with elders standing around waiting for you to go get the switch.

He's getting really good at combinations - a running, kicking, charging, screaming tsunami.

I know it's frustrating for him right now, his consonants and vowels have not caught up to his wants. "I want that juice, I want that applesauce, I want that donut, I want that DVDV (that's what he calls his collection of Baby Einstein DVD's - DVDV.)

It's hard to get mad at him, I know it's just a phase, but it must be addressed. We cannot allow it to escalate. So I have different levels of responses to his levels:

Level 1 - the charge - "Coleman,get down off the table." He does not, I say it only once, then I make a fake Gorilla charge as if I'm coming to get him. He backs down. He thinks it's a game, probably because he sees me trying not to laugh.

Level 2 - snatch him up. "Coleman don't pour that juice on the floor." Before I can get to the fake charge, he pours. Super Nanny says you must get down to their level to discipline. I don't believe in that. I snatch him up and bring him eye level, holding him by his shoulders, little feet dangling in the air. "Daddy said don't do that, now say sorry." "Sorry daddy." We get paper towels, I direct him as he dabs and wipes up the mess. It usually makes a bigger mess, as he just spreads out the liquid. He runs off to play, I have to finish up. But he got the point. Again.

Level 3 - time out. He's perched on all fours, diaper off, head looking in between his legs, he's just watched himself pee in between the cushions of the couch. First thing is diaper on. Second - into the stroller, strap him in and push him into a dark corner for 2 minutes. Sometimes he cries. Sometimes he starts to sing, which usually means the corner isn't dark enough. I find another corner. He cries. After 2 minutes he must apologize - again. "Sorry daddy." He runs off to play, while I figure out the damage to the cushions.

Level 4 - distraction. Usually follows call Child Welfare level screaming, because I can't watch "Curious George" any more so I've turned off the DVDV, or we're out of ice pops or mommy has just left or whatever. I know I can make him laugh in a second. I drop my eyes, lower my head and I start to move stealthily towards him. All it takes is one step and he's laughing so hard he can't sit up. Singing is a good distraction as well. "Where is Thumpkin?" is his new favorite. I put my hands behind my back, he knows whats coming. He's smiling through his tears.

I'm missing so much valuable TV. Thank God for Tivo.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Funky Town

So Coleman and I are in the bedroom. Roz is teaching in the other room. Coleman's Curious George video is on, he has his trains out, puzzles, books, everything to entertain him for 2 minutes at a clip. During these alone father/son times, I've been known to doze off, not a heavy sleep, OK that's a lie, I go deep very quickly, but not for long, I swear.

Coleman is now in this phase where a heavy diaper slows him down, disturbs his sense of balance, so he just takes it off. Most of the times it's OK, it's just full of #1, but every once and again - OH MY GOD!!!

So I'm checking the back of my eye lids for cracks, i.e. napping, and the funk wakes me up. I think, it's time to change the diaper, but it's too late. The diaper has been removed, contents spilling out the sides, but he wasn't finished with his movement so there is a pile on the floor, somewhere!! Not only is there a pile, but he's kinda stepped in it, so there are footprints. He's also reached around to see what was sticking to his behind, so it's on his hands. Now he's climbing onto the bed, to show me his hands are dirty, so now the bed spread is tainted.

My next door neighbor Lili, warned me about the amount of laundry I'd be doing. I laughed it off. We have a laundry room down the hall. I've spent so much time in there, it's going to be a tax deduction.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Mohawk


I thought she was kidding. According to everyone else, it was time for Coleman's first haircut. I was fine with his hair. It's still baby soft and unruly, kinda like Coleman. But maybe it was time for a trim. Roz said she wanted to get him a Mohawk. That's silly. My son's not getting a Mohawk. She took him with her when she went to get her hair done. She told me she would ask the stylist if he could cut Coleman's hair. Apparently it was relatively uneventful, he sat in Roz's lap, the hairdresser cut his hair, he didn't cry, squirmed as per a two year old should squirm. And my son came home with a Mohawk. It's actually not severe, the sides of his head aren't shaved, so it's kind of a Fauxhawk.

He's two, it's only hair and it's the first countless haircuts over a lifetime, but I hate it. I just hate it. Not really sure why, he's still incredibly cute. I just hate it.

Maybe it's the beginning of all the decisions I will have nothing to do with. All the things I'm gonna have to choose whether or not to fight over. What do I do the first time he walks in here with his pants around his thighs? What do I do when he wants a tattoo or big fake diamond earrings in both ears? Or he won't eat anything orange?

No more Mohawks.