No, no…I’m not getting into trouble. I’m just *making* things.

After debating what to get/use for a changing table for baby #2 (I’d sold the one I had for Maya, but still have the crib), we picked out a dresser-changer combo. It arrived, and in a flurry of do-it-yourselfiness, I got it assembled. It’s lovely.

BUT…the pad is NOT a standard size. Standard pads are 33″x16″. This one is 34-1/2″x17-3/4″. D’oh.

Now I’m patting myself on the back. For around $40 (less than I would have spent on pre-made covers that wouldn’t fit anyway), I made three custom-fitted pad covers AND a rather large hand-knotted fleece blanket. So there.

Pity the flash and camera don’t do the colors justice. The non-brown sections of the varied animal print fabric range from sage to olive to a slight aqua tinge. Yeah, I know. Such animals don’t exist in nature. Eh, the colors are killer, and the fabric looks great with the crib bedding set I got (another of Maya’s things I’d sold, not expecting to get to have another baby so soon). The zebra print is cream/light beige and dark brown rather than black and white. All in all, the colors are great — JoAnn Fabric served me well.

Now, Maya says that absolutely, she wants a blanket like the knotted one I made for baby. Guess we’re going back shopping, and we’ll make her a blanket that will come in handy when we’re traveling across the Atlantic in a couple months!

And, since no photo shoot is done without pics of Maya (”Mama, let me see Maya!”), here’s my pj-attired kiddo this morning, complete with smile for the camera.

Maya to her brown bear and cat bus:
“You dry? Did you pee on the potty? Good. Good, good, good! You stay dry!”

Maya in general, to no one in particular:
“No more diapers for Maya! Stay clean and dry and get FRUIT SNACKS!”

Maya to me, just after using the potty:
“I dry. I get fruit snacks!”
Me:
“Nope, you only get those if you stay clean AND dry all the way until lunch and nap.”
Maya:
I’m hungry. Let’s eat lunch! (It’s 10AM.)

Can you tell what we’ve been doing around here?

Yesterday, after watching Cinderella yet again, Maya started calling me “Mother.” As in, the way Grisella or Anastasia might say it. This morning, she asked me to talk like stepmother.

I’d find it outright disturbing, except that this morning, when Maya was play-acting to be me, I asked her what Mama says. “Mmmm. I’m cooking and making eggs and cheese for Maya.” So, I guess I’m not entirely evil. Yet.

We’ve gone cold turkey on diapers, as of Friday, November 2. This is technically round 2 of CT, but the first time, I allowed (okay, required) pullups and/or diapers at night. Now, we’re entirely without. So far, two poopy pants (one per day, ick), and one wet bed, but no wet accidents during the daytime. Maya has been informed that princesses do *not* poop in their pants, and once she poops in the potty instead, she can resume her pink sparkly dress-up time. Cruel, perhaps, but the heart of training is learning what motivates the trainee. And that dress is *quite* motivating.

I’m late mentioning this — here, at least — but looking below, I realized I’ve never formally announced that Mike and I are expecting baby #2 in mid-March 2008! We learned last month that Baby 2 is a boy, and it’s been a blast preparing. Fortunately, I have some fab friends who provided hand-me-downs to make the wardrobe needs less painful. As my part in the Karma train, I passed Maya’s NB/0/3/6 clothing on to Mike’s sister, who’s scheduled to have her second — a baby girl, of course — in 8 days. Wow! Just a week left! We figure if we ever have another, we’ll deal with it then…but since we have no idea whether that child will ever exist, much less be a girl, it would be silly to hold onto clothing that our family could use instead!

Final update for this post: we finally know some more details about our move. Oh, I haven’t mentioned that either, have I? We expect to move to Vienna, Austria within the next two months, and by this time next week, we should have more of the details from Mike’s employer-to-be. It’s a bit intimidating to move to a country where English isn’t the primary language (and I don’t know German at all!), but it should be a fun adventure for all of us.

Last thoughts: It’s coming to be time to phase out this blog (but keep the domain, of course, for Maya’s future use!), and move to a family site, especially with the new addition and move to Europe. I’m toying around with site names, but haven’t really hit on anything I love yet. It’s entirely possible that I’ll repurpose my personal blog as a family blog…but we’ll see. Then, I’d have to decide what (if anything) to do with all those not-so-subtle posts that dig inside my head, huh?

I’ve never been particularly cautious about pre-washing Maya’s new clothing, but when I bought a bunch of new 3T pjs and whatnot last week, I washed every single piece, because my gut said so.

The dress Maya wore today, however, wasn’t part of that purchase; it had been sitting in the back of the closet for months, unworn. This morning, when Maya asked for it (I’d left it sitting out in the room), I thought, “no problem,” and pulled off the tags. Mistake. When I picked her up from school today, I immediately notice a patchy bumpy rash on one shoulder. On examination, I noticed it was EVERYWHERE that the knit portion of the dress had touched.

I’m sorry, baby.

A shower and hydro cortisone later…she’s less itchy and heading to bed. That’s the first contact rash she’s gotten since long ago when I discovered that Pampers were a very bad idea (due to their perfume content). SIGH.

Yes, I haven’t posted in ages…including photos from Maya’s birthday party! I’ll start catching up before long, but this was just too good to not link.

Mary P. wrote a post that I wish I’d written — about parents’ attitudes toward their children and sex.

When I was a young married with a baby girl, our daughter’s father would joke that she wouldn’t be allowed to date until she was 35. Well, 30 if the prospective boyfriend was a member of the royal family. I’d laugh at his little joke, but it always annoyed me just a bit, though I wasn’t sure why. (The fact that it was feeble and repeated waaaaay too often didn’t help, but it was the actual content of the joke which bugged me.)

Not too long ago, some commenters on a blog I was visiting were speaking of the future dates of their infant girls. A couple of the daddy-types came out with the typical Big Protective Daddy comments. “The first guy to stick anything in her,” said one, “and I’ll stick something bigger into him.” (Charming, no?)

Here’s a thought that most parents of very small children don’t really understand:

One day, you will be the parent of an adult.

Go read the rest. Really, just go read it.

Still not wanting to? Okay, then I’ll tell you what sums it up for me:

Okay, now we’re coming to the crux of this post. Why did that stupid joke, why do those ‘protective daddy’ comments exasperate me so? Because they are based upon the assumption that females are passive recipients of sex. Females have no drives of their own, they have no sexual volition. They make no choices. If they are having sex, it’s because someone required it of them.

“My daughter couldn’t actually want to indulge with her boyfriend!” these parents wail. “It must be his idea, the filthy creep.” Well, I hope for your daughter’s sake that this isn’t true. I hope that the sex she has, happens when she’s ready, that it is joyful, respectful, mutually desired and mutually satisfying.

Just like you want for yourself.

***applause***

From It’s Not All Mary Poppins:

Nigel has all kinds of words, and we hear them a lot. All except ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Hmm. Now, I usually have more success with ‘please’, so I’ll often start with it. (Why is please easier? It’s all in the motivation. “Want this cookie? Say ‘please’!” You can see how it’s easier to get out a ‘please’ than a ‘thank you’ - he’s got that cookie stuffed into his mouth to the tonsils: why is further communication necessary?)

Yup. Exactly. I DO hear please, all day, every day. Thank you is still rare, but we work on it. Every freakin’ day.

Why are you starving me, mama?

Maya has three (count ‘em, 1, 2, 3) different snacks sitting on the coffee table. Apples, white cheese puffs, Luna bar…all relatively healthful (hey, I said relatively) and tasty. She also has milk and water readily available. Yet again and again, she comes to me and signs “more.” Or “please.” If I ask her what she wants, she leads me to the pantry.

No. We’re not opening snack number four. She is beyond mad at me right now.

Courtesy of MIM, a good post on discipline for very young children, mostly written by a gal who does daycare for five pre-school and toddler kids.  Of course, by “good,” I mean “agrees with my philosophy.”  Her methods line up really well with a book I’ve found invaluable, Setting Limits.

Enjoy!

Maya: Peees? Peees?

She drags me by the hand into the living room, then runs and points at the pantry door.

Me: Hey, look — here’s the rest of your apple slice, and half a glass left of milk!

Maya: Peees?

She’s rubbing her chest (signing “please”) furiously at this point.

Me: Honey, if you’re really that hungry, there’s some perfectly good food sitting right here. Eat that, then if you’re still hungry, we’ll get you something else.

Maya: AAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhMaaaaaameeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Maya throws herself on the floor. I calmly walk back to my office.

A few minutes later…

Maya: (holding the DVD case for Toy Story 2) Peees? Peees?

Me: You’ve had enough TV this morning, Little Pea. Maybe this afternoon you can see that again.

Maya points at the DVD case. I ignore her. She bangs the case on the keyboard tray of my desk, making it nearly impossible to ignore her.

Me: No. Sorry, honey.

I’m beginning to think that parenting is really just about developing a tolerance for screams and a hardened heart toward begging.

Has it really been that long? How is it possible that it seems like yesterday AND like a lifetime ago that you came into my life?

I’ve now known you for nearly a month longer ouside the womb than inside — 8 months and 2 days passed between learning about your existence and giving birth to you. You’re more fun every day, and with each month that passes you change more and more rapidly. I thought that babies changed the most early on, then things slowed down…boy was I wrong about that! One of the songs I sing to you (sheesh, I should probably learn ALL of the words) is “Getting to Know You.” Finding out who you are is thrilling!

At this moment, you’re sleeping peacefully in your crib (knock on wood) while I wrap up my day, and put off washing the dishes. Only two weeks ago, your sleeping the the crib was impossible because you were teething and utterly ~desperate~ to have me hold you.

Yes, you have teeth now! Two of them popped through on your lower gums last week. So far, you’ve been pretty good about not biting me, which honestly, is in your benefit. Biting isn’t funny, and it ends your dinner. Please don’t continue with the “I’ll bite you so you put me down” routine…just stop sucking and smile, and I’ll get the point.

You’re all over the place now, and moving faster with every day that passes. Less than two weeks ago, I could set you down and be reasonably certain that when I came back, you’d be within a few feet of where I placed you. Now? Fuhgeddaboutit! You’re exploring the house, terrorizing the dogs (who make you giggle), and eating any and every piece of stray lint/paper/dog hair you find on the floor. What an inspiration you’re becoming! My house has never been cleaner. (grin)

You still charm every person you meet. Seriously, if you’re not the prettiest little baby girl ever, you’re darned close. We wander up and down the aisle in the grocery store (where you now sit in the cart, so you can have a better view) and you babble to me, telling me all about your day. Ba-ba-lala-blah-blah-da-da. It’s serious stuff. Keep trying, and someday, I might even actually understand you. I don’t tell you now, but you know when I answer you? I’m totally faking it. I don’t have a clue what you’re going on about, other than that it’s cute.

Sometimes I worry that you’ll develop a hangup that Mama only likes to take you out for all the positive attention she gets. Of course, the very fact that I worry about things like that likely means that I’m doing fine.

We’ve started doing “real” hikes finally! While we walk along the trails, I try to point out the sights, sounds, and smells…and remind you that before long, you’ll get to carry yourself on the trail! For now, I’m more than happy to be your own personal pack-animal. This morning, as you, the dogs, and I passed a man on the trail, he commented, “that’s quite a load you have there!” My reply, “Yup…I’ve got a sack of sugar on my back!” I get sappy like that about you.

Last time we went to see the doctor, you were barely eating cereal. These days, you eat anything that’s not nailed down, both food and non-food. On the food front, you love oatmeal. Oh, how you love oatmeal. You also love chocolate — anything sweet for that matter. Other food: you’ll eat pretty much anything I share with you, other than jarred baby vegetables. I agree with you that those are gross; why eat that when you can have fresh broccoli off mama’s plate? Today, you tried pad thai, and did great, even with the bit of spiciness. A tiny piece of an Andes mint *did* help for after, though.

There are so many things to remember, I couldn’t possibly touch on them all. I just hope that journaling our lives here will give you something to look back on someday. What you should know, more than anything, is that you’re the best thing I’ve ever done, and you’re the best part of my life, PERIOD. You inspire me to become the best me I can be, not only for my own good, but also so I can set a healthy example for you.

~~~~~~~~~Doctor Visit Stats~~~~~~~~~

Weight: 14 pounds, 3.2 ounces (not even on the chart)
Length: 26.5 inches (20th percentile)
Head: 16.5 inches (5th percentile)

For all the hoo-hah about growth spurts, you’re still TINY. I was off by a full pound in what I’d expected. Your doctor’s comment: “Well, if you’d tie her to a chair, maybe she’d gain more weight, but I think we’d rather she crawl.”

You got three shots today, but the piece of Andes mint I saved from lunch seemed to help you get past being upset about it…although you turned nearly purple during.

One glitch: left hip pop. We’ve been referred to an orthopedist, and I have a call in to get an appointment. This might explain your push with the right, drag with the left mode of crawling. Then again, it might not. I’ll look it up on the Internet to see what I can learn, of course.

Update: Maya will see the orthopedic doctor next Friday, July 1.

So many parents push their kids to be the smartest, the best, the brightest. While I believe you may well be all of those things, I’ll try to never push you into them. My highest hope for you is that you grow up as a happy and well-adjusted girl who knows that she’s loved.