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Saturday, August 24th, 2013
I’ve said it before, but I think I’m going to be saying this for a long, long time. I can’t grasp how the male species has survived. This, after having a boy. An 18-month old boy. A boy who has turned from tame to terror. Albeit, a remarkably happy terrorist.
My friends with boys just laugh it off. They are already in this club and have accepted what it means to have birthed a Y chromosome. For those of us who have girls, it is a rude awakening.
Fia was a wild child. I used to joke she was “like a boy.” I still hear moms saying that about their daughters. Baaahhaaaa. Not even close.
Fia has tons of energy and is still full of spunk. But she isn’t stupid. She didn’t climb up on counters and reach for butcher knives. I wouldn’t turn my back for 3.3 seconds only to find her dangling from a bar. Or climbing in the dryer. Or crawling in a drawer. Or, Or, Or…I could go on and on.
It seems each day I am reaching a new level of madness. It is making me feel like I no longer have control of my house. We are moving and our current place is really hard to childproof. But we are here for 3 more deadly months. Who knows what this tornadic force will do next? I can’t even make supper anymore without him nearly losing a limb. Hello? Calvary? Anyone there?
The thing is, he has about the best temperament of any child I’ve met. He giggles in his sleep and sings in his highchair. And as, um, “active” as he is, he will sit for 30 minutes and page through books. At least he used to do all these things. I’m scared I’m losing that part of him. I’m scared he’s turning into a gorilla.
So what to do? He is starting to get angry when his needs aren’t instantly met. He gets frustrated if he can’t figure out a toy and sends it hurtling across the room. Yesterday I turned my back for 1.3 seconds. He had a glass I had just set down, dumped the water out and as I screamed, “NOOO” he looked at me with that mischievous grin and sent it crashing in a million pieces on the floor. He has discovered that pulling hair makes Fia cry. He thinks “finished” with his food means throwing it all on the ground. “Emmett—NOOOOOO!!!!!” is becoming the dominant phrase in our house.
Oh, but it gets better. He yanked Phil’s prescription sunglasses off his face today and threw them across the room. As usual, we reacted. Phil yelled, “NO EMMETT! “YOU DO NOT DO THAT.” Emmett immediately burst into tears. Wailing. The word NO also equals meltdown. Or, in an act of animalistic defiance, he starts to eat his arm or foot. I am raising a gorilla, a canibal and a crybaby.
My sitter Michele just laughs. She has 5 kids, 4 of them boys. She said Emmett definitely ranks up there as a wild one, but at the end of the day she insists he’s simply “all boy.” She points to how fearless and fun his disposition is. I can’t entirely disagree. My pediatrician has said he is one of the more active babies she’s seen, but the fact that he does (or did??) sit and read and have quiet time made her think he just has a lot of energy to burn. My in-laws say he’s a normal, happy toddler. How can this be? “Normal” is making me pull out my hair. How does the male species justify their insane behavior as “normal???”
I know I’m probably painting a terrible picture of him and it sounds contradictory when I say he is almost always in a great mood. But these little snapshots happen throughout the day. What do I do? Should I start putting him in his crib for a timeout? I feel like he’s too little to “get it.” Am I being had? Will he begin to understand consequences and boundaries at 18 months? Fia is 3 1/2 and I honestly can’t remember when she had her first time out. But it definitely wasn’t this young. She was far tamer. To date, she’s probably had less than 7 time-outs.
When he turns 2, I’m planning on putting him in preschool 2 mornings a week. I think some structure will help. But that is still 6 months away. A lot can happen.Maybe I just need to embrace this chapter. Let it pass. Or maybe I should find a different preschool… one that will take him now.
Looking for advice, tips and a survival timeline. Please.
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babysitter, boy, boy energy, childproof, childproofing, daycare, hyperactive, preschool, sitter, structure, toddler, toddler boys, Y chromosome | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Mom Situations, Mom Tricks and Tips, Must Read, Newborn Care
Thursday, March 8th, 2012
My "Remarkable" Boy
So a good friend just emailed me and our other mom friend. She and her husband are having a boy. Her email was so real to me that I had to share. I wrote her back and told her about all the good things a boy brings. And how now, I can’t even imagine my world any other way. But I felt the same way she did at first. I don’t like sports or trucks. I don’t have a relationship with my father (and my relationship with my mother was troubled at best). And Fia, while not into dresses and tutu’s like her daughter, is also a mini-me in her own spitfire ways. Her email made me laugh and cry. Sometimes words just work. And need to be shared. Thanks for humoring me. (Names changed for confidentiality.)
It’s a BOY!!!!!! A boy. Jill–it’s a boy. I’m having flash backs to last spring, sitting with you in the park trying to make sense of a boy. How can I be growing a mini penis and balls? Why didn’t I pay more attention during the, “He pees on me,” emails you sent? Oh Lord, a boy. It took me most of last night and an emergency call to Heather–plus the promise of one more kid (after this one)–to lure me from the edge. But I’m starting to get excited. I’ve also been able to (after a night of no sleep) recognize why I have such a fear of little boys. Want to hear it? Probably not but I’ll share anyway.
1. I’m not close with my father (borderline dislike him) and have a gay brother. I don’t “get” men or boys and I’m unsure of what to do with him (and them).
2. I’ve never been the type of girl to have “boy” friends–I always ended up sleeping with them or at the very least making out with them, thereby dissolving any friendship.
3. I hate sports, video games, and trucks. I’ve never watched Thomas and I don’t want too.
4. And finally the biggest reason, I’m afraid I will love him with my whole heart only for him to grow up and not return my calls, marry some inappropriate girl from California who insists on living there, have children of his own who I never get to see- in short I’m terrified that I will not occupy an important place in his life.
I have to raise a son and as tough as (my daughter) can be, she is all girl. Make-up and nails and dresses. Oh, and tutus. And she carries her purse and picks out shoes! In short she is a mini-me and I love her for that. It feels like rain or shine she will always be mine- not to be shared with some….”boy.” Even when she’s married.
But this little man I’m now incubating might just turn out to be the love of my life–and Oh my God, what if he leaves me??? I literally am now in tears thinking of having to let him go–and please know that as I type this I already know what a psycho I sound like. I remember, Jill, when you found out Emmet’s sex you told Dan and me that besides your husband, the men in your life are unremarkable. We say that line around here daily. So you can imagine when the tech said “It’s a boy,” my reaction was to climb off of the table and deck her (I mean that in the kindest way possible).
Last night Dan asked me to name one (straight) man that I love besides him. All I could come up with was my friend James, who I do adore and love. He said that when I get scared to think of him and James–and that is helping. But I could use some motherly advice form the two of you who have boys–how will you let them go? Do we have to? And what are fun things I can do with him that we can do as he grows up? I want to get ready for him, and I want him to be my friend someday, and mostly I want him to be remarkable.
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Sunday, September 25th, 2011
I’m officially pregnant. I mean, really officially pregnant. How did I come to this conclusion after 5 months of watching my stomach balloon, my feet ache and my cherished wine off limits? Because today Ladies and Gentlemen, someone finally gave their seat up on the subway for me!
I was heading into Manhattan on a packed car. Standing room only. A seat opened up and the woman standing next to me turned and without hesitation, asked if I wanted it. She was much older than I, so I knew she was offering because she thought I needed it more than she did. Hallelujah. I don’t just look randomly thick and puffy anymore. Now my appearance has a purpose. And I will use it to my full advantage. Time to get out the tighter fitting tops and get this baby bump to work for me.
Baby boy, you didn’t think you were getting off scott free did you? No sir, mama is putting you to work.
By the way, Little Leroy is the length of a squash now. Grow boy, grow. We’re halfway there!
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Baby Boy Squash Length
Thursday, August 25th, 2011
BOY. Working titles: Little Leroy. Wayne Sanchez Junior. Baby Oops. Found out at 11 weeks when we got the CVS results back.
Fia Gets a Brother
I knew from the moment I got pregnant that it was an XY. I am usually not one of those people with a second sense for this sort of thing. But somehow I just knew.
When the genetic counselor called to tell us that the chromosomes looked normal (whew), she asked if we wanted to know the sex. Yes! I had rehearsed this moment for the past 2 days. I know she is going to say boy, but maybe just maybe, she’ll say girl.
Nope. My instincts were right. Boy. Oh boy.
If I’m being honest, there was a moment of disappointment, of mourning. Maybe it’s because I think we have a better chance of another great baby if it’s the same sex as Fia. Maybe it’s because I wanted her to have a sister. And maybe it’s because I am already so familiar with her. Change is scary.
There’s also a nagging fear with a boy: the most modern of medicine still can’t test for Autism and the rates are so much higher with boys. My husband’s nephew is severely autistic, which I know adds to my worry. But I know there is nothing I can do about it, so just like this “unexpected” pregnancy, I am going with it. I have to. I’m grateful for the tests we could do. And if something is wrong, we’ll deal.
In the weeks since the CVS I have wrapped my head around “boy” much more. Boys love their mammas. They are big snugglers. And puberty will probably be easier to deal with.
But in the meantime, do I really have to look forward to a penis peeing on me when I change his diapers? That doesn’t sound like very much fun.
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autism, baby, baby brother, baby sister, boy, brother, chromosomes, cvs, diapers, genes, genetic disorders, genetic testing, girl, pee, penis, pregnancy, same sex, sex, sister, testing, tests, Wayne Sanchez | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Mom Situations
Friday, August 12th, 2011
I don’t want any surprises with my pregnancy. Didn’t with Fia either. I want to know the sex, I want genetic defects ruled out, I want to know how and when I will labor (and that includes drugs). For Fia I didn’t have a crystal ball for this one. But for baby #2, I know how it’s going to happen. Or at least what we’re planning for. Will save that for another blog.
For those who don’t find out the sex because “it is one of life’s few surprises” I say a) you’re much braver than, b) much more patient than I, and c) it’s still a surprise when you find out! I just get to find out 30 weeks earlier and get my plan in place.
When it comes to genetic testing, all I can say is thank god for modern medicine. If I had lived in any other time period I would have worn a chastity belt to make sure I never got pregnant. Or joined the convent, though I’m not sure I would have been a very good nun….
For the above reasons, at 10 weeks, 5 days I had a CVS. Also had one with Fia. It’s as accurate as an amnio but you do it much earlier and the results come much faster—within 48 hours. It tests for the major genetic disorders, like Down Syndrome. The specialist (and you should go to a highly trained specialist if you have this done. I went to the dude who basically invented the technique) takes a needle and aspirates some cells in your placenta. Apparently when you get pregnant, half your cells go to form the baby, the other half go into the placenta. It is 99.99% accurate. It doesn’t test for neural tube defects, but a blood test at 18 weeks does that.
Yes, there is a small risk of miscarriage involved. 1-2%. But it’s almost always operator error. That’s why I feel very strongly about going to a specialist for something as important as this. You don’t want to mess around.
At any rate, I am now relieved to know that based on what they can genetically test for, Baby Oops is a-okay. What am I having? Did I say what I want to have? Stay tuned!
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boy, cvs, Down's, drugs, genes, genetic, genetic disorders, girl, medicine, miscarriage, placenta, pregnancy, pregnant, risk, sex | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama