How Do You Know?

So Max has been extraordinarily difficult lately.  I've heard that 3 is worse than 2 behaviorally speaking, so I'm thinking that since Max is so advanced, he's creeping into the terrible 3s a bit early. (hahahaha - I have to find a silver lining!)
So I obviously love him unconditionally.  And I truly believe that I am not blinded by that love and I can see his imperfections.  I am not one of those 'not my kid' parents.  I understand while Max is capable of being a sweet, loving, mannerly child, he is equally capable of being a giant jerk.  He is typically the former, but when the latter rears its ugly head, it's, well, ugly.
The ugly head has been reared more frequently lately.  Just when I thought we were blessed in the tantrum department, he is proving me wrong.  How was I supposed to know that it was so important that he open the door for Daddy when he comes home, or that he turn on the faucet even though he can't reach it or that he never ever pick up his toys?  I consider myself educated in early childhood development, so I pull out all the stops.  I try planned ignoring, changing the subject, laughing it off, zero tolerance, all while maintaining consistent expectations.  At least I think I am doing this the best I can.
My frustration now lies in choosing between picking my battles with him and making it clear his behavior will not be tolerated.  I obviously don't want to be a tyrant mom.  Where's the fun in that?  I am all too aware that Max is capable of retaining memories now.  I want him to feel lucky to have had a stay at home mom, not oppressed by it.  I also want to do what's best for him in the long run, not just the moments we have now.   For example, will a piece of Halloween candy first thing in the morning literally give him rotten teeth and diabetes?  Probably not.  Isolated it's not that big of a deal unless it becomes a habit or recurring behavior.  Which is why I don't want to give it to him.  But he doesn't like to hear no and he really likes his chocolate.  So a tantrum commences.  And then I am stuck.  Do I "pick my battles" and let him have a small piece of candy, maybe even compromising by giving him a piece of my choosing?  This will obviously make him happy, make for a smoother morning, maybe even earn me some cooperation later in the day.  But am I setting myself up for failure in the long run by giving him what wants?  Does it matter if he gets what he wants before he tantrums or after?  Is consistency the better choice, even if it means a consistent fight?  The candy is just an example...there are many things we can do battle over: eating on the couch, screaming at me, getting his coat on...the list goes on.  I know that it doesn't matter that he doesn't want to wear a coat when it's 30 degrees outside; I will win that battle for his health and safety.  But when it's time for his nap and he just doesn't want to clean up his toys, even with my help, how important is it that he listen to me and put everything away? I need for him to respect (eventually) his mom and dad - adults in general - but how much is too much for a 2-1/2 year old, even the brightest?

Thievery

I was violated last week.  Someone walked onto my porch, right up to my front door and walked away with Max's stroller.  I was out of the house for about 3-4 hours.  That stroller had sat on the porch, inconspicuously mind you, for weeks.  Max and I enjoyed regular walks.  He loved climbing into it himself and riding around while I tried to raise my heart rate, we loved listening to music on my phone while we walked to Super Babcia's (his great grandma) house.  We would get ready to go somewhere, anywhere, and he always asked if he could ride in his stroller.  And some asshole (sorry) has taken these little joys away.  I am livid.  It's not about the stroller itself.  Yes, it cost money and that's a shame.  We certainly don't have money to leave on our porch for people to take as they please.  But truthfully, Max will be 3 in March, so how much time did we have left with that stroller anyway? Not enough for us to even consider replacing it right now.  But someone took that decision away from us.
I had my car broken into last year because I (stupidly) left my purse on the front seat and locked the door.  I was devastated.  I felt stupid, robbed on so many levels, angry, sad (I loved that bag!) frustrated at all the work that had to follow to get a new driver's license, new bank accounts, etc.  I was angry that I had photos of Max in my wallet and God knows where they were. My baby's pictures were in a dumpster somewhere or in a puddle being walked on my strangers or wherever.  In the digital age, I didn't lack for more copies.  But the idea that someone saw his little face and continued to rob his mommy with no regard that she might be so in love with her child that she would even want his photos to be safe, well it is reprehensible.
And now someone has stolen FROM my baby.
My little guy has to learn about the bad in this world at way too young of an age.  He has asked where his stroller is and he did so before I had decided how to handle it.  So I was honest with him and decided to use it as a teachable moment.  I left his stroller on the porch where I thought it would be safe.  But someone saw it there and really liked and made a bad choice and took it from us.  He knows it's not nice to take from others, so I was hoping this was relatable.  Thankfully, he wasn't as upset as I thought he might be.  I was still heartbroken to have this conversation with him.  At 2-1/2 years old.
The plot thickens...
On a whim, I decided to check craigslist.com to see if the idiot who stole the stroller was dumb enough to put it up.  Two days after it was taken, the exact same brand, line, and color stroller was listed on there.  However, it was listed by a consignment shop who uses the online classifieds to advertise what they've acquired.  I'd like to think that people from the consignment shop aren't trolling neighborhoods looking for items to sell at their shop.  So I'm pretty sure that whoever took it, sold it to the shop.  The timeline works.  Unfortunately, our stroller has no distinguishing marks that would help me identify it even if I walked into the store.  I am debating if I should call them and ask them when it was brought in.  I don't expect to get it back; like I said, it's not about the stroller itself.
I am trying not to get in my head and second-guess our decision to buy a house here.  Dave keeps saying to change it rather than run.  But what could I have done differently?  Get to know our neighbors to become part of the community?  Done.  Make our house look lived in and that we care about where we live?  Done.  Lock my doors, have motion lights, be aware of my surroundings?  Always.  Not leave my stroller on my porch?  I suppose.  Not the most convenient way to live.  Not leave my house unattended?  Not going to happen.  I won't live in fear.  But I will probably live in frustration for a while.
Two 911 calls in 2 weeks...hopefully this week is quiet.

***UPDATE***
So, I told Dave I saw the stroller on craigslist.  He was less than thrilled, obviously.  On Monday, he was getting fitted for a tux for a college event, and the tux place happened to be next door to the consignment shop selling what was likely our stroller.  He (bravely) went in and found the stroller, which still had my iPod arm band in the console so he knew it was in fact ours.  He spoke to the woman working (the owner) and explained the situation.  Apparently the woman was mortified and very upset that this had happened.  After noting she would take a loss, she told Dave he could take the stroller back.  He asked if she knew who sold it to her; she said she did, but she wasn't comfortable sharing it with him.  Which was fine by me.  She, however, knows who sold it to her (if it's not a fake name and address) and she won't buy anything from him again.  I called the cops to follow up on my report and explain what happened, hoping they would interview her and nab the guy.  (Yeah I just said nab.)  But the lovely officer never returned my call.  Which is really more unfortunate for the consignment shop lady, since she's the one taking a loss.  We got our stroller back.  It doesn't erase the fact that I had to explain to Max that there are bad people in the world and that those bad people may hurt him.  But it did give him a chance to see his Daddy as a hero, which I have a feeling, will be the first of many times.

Little Man

I don't know when this happened, but I don't have a baby anymore.  I know I've been warned, and I guess on a certain level I was prepared, even excited.  But now that he's gone, I'm mourning him a little.  Fortunately, the little boy that has replaced him is so fun and wonderful and exciting that I am too busy to fall into a depression over my loss.  But sometimes when I watch with amazement all he is capable of and realize he doesn't need me in the same ways as he used to, I feel sad.  Sometimes I even get a little teary.  And then I scold myself because how can I possibly be sad when I have so much joy right in front of me and if I waste my time being sad about what's over, I will miss out on truly amazing things right now.
These crazy thoughts are the things no one tells you about when you become a parent.  I've been told to "treasure every moment", "it goes so fast"....as if I can possibly do anything to slow down time.  But those cliches helped me prioritize my life for sure.   I haven't done theatre since I was pregnant.  2 and a half years.  That's a HUGE leap for someone who did some form of theatre continuously since 1991.  I helped out with directing a one-act this summer and I am diving in head first to directing a musical next month.  I am incredibly nervous about this commitment and the time away from Max, but I am comforted that at least I am home with him now during the day so I won't be in a scenario of never seeing him for 2 months.  But still.  I love putting him to bed.  I love our nighttime routine.  He has just started to want to help make dinner.  Who knows how these things will change by the time my show closes?  And that is when I will mourn the precious hours lost and celebrate the shining star his Daddy helped him become in my absence.  It's an emotional roller coaster, folks.  But it's even crazier than they tell you.

Puppy Love

Or rather...puppy guilt?
I don't like my dog very much.  I love her and I would never give her away; at 9-1/2 years old, she'd never get adopted anyway and I could never hand her a death sentence.  Not literally.  I have threatened her with death on several occasions.
I used to like her.  A lot.  I chose her from the litter of puppies that had been abandoned in a dumpster.  Apparently, being left behind to fend for yourself at a few (3?) weeks old has lasting effects because Roxie is just not right.  She is sooo needy, it feels unmanageable most of the time.  She has to be with us all the time.  Even as I type this, I recognize that it sounds endearing, that she just loves us that much.  I truly don't think it's that.  If she is dismissed to another room while we eat because she is constantly underfoot, she barks.  Incessantly.  To the point that we weigh our options: which is worse, barking or hovering?  We can't sit on our porch and leave her inside because the barking doesn't quit.  Same with leaving her in the backyard while we are in the front of the house.  No one can walk down the street, particularly with a dog, without there being a major disruption in our house.  She insists on laying on our brand new furniture when we aren't home.  She's eluded the barriers I've put up.  She began chewing up (used) diapers on the floor and on our bed, taking them right out of the can.  Recall that Max is now 2-1/2 and this habit began only about 5 months ago.  She pooped and peed in our old house.   This is not unusual for a dog, which I get.  What was frustrating was that she ONLY did so in Max's room.  Which happened to have white carpet.  Just a few days ago, she brazenly ate a cupcake that Max was so proud to have made and so excited to eat.  She ate it.  Right off the bench I was sitting on as I fixed my shoe.  I felt rage and Max's tears broke my heart.
She won't stay off our bed.  This is our fault, admittedly.  When Dave was in grad school, it was nice to snuggle with Roxie and have her keep my feet warm.  But now, I don't need her to do that anymore.  And she makes my sheets smell and sheds so much I want to change my sheets daily.  This is the selfish part, I know.  Those things didn't matter as much when I was lonely and cold but now my priorities have changed.  That's my fault, not Roxie's.  Which is why I dig deep and find some patience.
Priorities might have everything to do with this shift.  Max entered and our world changed.  Roxie's included.  We honestly tried to include Roxie in our new family.  We paid attention to her, petted her while we held Max, prepped Roxie while I was still pregnant, gave her extra attention when Max did come home.  Roxie never took to Max.  Max has always loved Roxie.  The first time Max approached Roxie without her growling and moving away is disgust occurred at Christmas last year.  Max was about 3 months shy of his 2nd birthday.  21 months of fearing Roxie would snap at our baby, of trying and failing to see our dream of a happy family with kids and dogs come true, of rising tension in the house due to these frustrations.  Then praising the hell out of Roxie when she allowed Max to touch her.  That praise, nor the praise that followed did not help it grow into a Hallmark dog-boy relationship.  Not yet anyway.  But Max is trying like hell.  He just loves that dog.
Our vet told us that when you have a dog, you love that dog and she is your baby.  Then when you have a baby, your dog becomes just your dog.  A canine member of your family, but a dog nonetheless.  Your baby is your baby and your dog is your dog.  It was very comforting to hear that from her, as I know she is obviously a dog lover, and also and dog owner and a mom herself. But it doesn't help me solve my problems.  I am running out of patience with Roxie.  I love her dearly.  I will be devastated when she dies.  (Years ago, I vowed she would live forever.)  But there is a dark and twisty part of me that will feel relief.  Like that family member who is so old and needs so much care it's exhausting.  You don't stop loving that family member and you don't want them to die but part of you will be able to breathe again.
I can rationalize it all I want.  But I still feel the guilt.
And I'm not sure I want another dog.

Help You?

The following is an entry that was to be prior to "Multitasking" made the cut.  "Multitasking" exists because I didn't realize a draft was saved when the plug was pulled.  But Max grows and earns more and more "lasts" - last time he said "sawwy?"  I don't know; last time he said "help you?" no clue.  I'd forgotten he'd ever said it, which now that I recall it, is devastating.  So I will publish this belated blog entry.  If for nothing else, but to help me remember.
One of the things I'd like Max to learn is manners.  It may seem trivial, or even meaningless at this point in his life.  Sometimes I wonder myself, but I also feel that it's never to early to start good habits.
Max's language is developing at an awesome pace.  I just marvel at what he can say.  I think back to those developmental checkpoints Dave and I felt obligated to check to make sure we weren't missing any red flags in Max's formative months.  A few months back, one stated that he should be able to say 10 words in context.  There Dave and I sat, counting, thinking, "Hi, Mommy, Daddy, more, eat, etc.", feeling confident that he had mastered the minimum requirement for his age, if not surpassing the goal.  Now, I could probably sit for 10 straight minutes and not be able to list every word he can say.  And he knows meanings for them and can even string several together to make a beautiful statement (of sorts).  Some of the words he knows now, and uses regularly, even without prompting are "Please (peece, in a hushed whisper),  thank you, sorry (the typical sawwee), and hi."  I feel an enormous pride when someone gives him something and he says thank you all on his own.

I'm Back...

Reading my last entry, I realized it's entirely possible that I actually was pregnant and had possible child since then.  Fact is:  I wasn't with child other than the little boy that was put in my arms March 10, 2010.  However, much as happened since then.
In short, I got a job, made friends with my colleagues, saw my husband's inspiring return to Musical Theatre, took Max to his first Sesame Street show, saw him turn 2, began house-hunting, threw a baby shower, lost my job, got it back (those 2 were all in the same day), saw 3 friends have babies, directed a one-act play, finished school (my job), bought a house, became a SAHM, got elected president of Gaslight Theatre Company, took Max to a water park for the first time, moved, went to family reunion (where Max jumped off the diving board into the deep end!), took Max to the beach for the first time, saw Evita in NYC (with Ricky Martin), decided to stay a SAHM, went broke, embraced a cleaning schedule and made 3 types of jam.  I've been busy.
I've had a really hard time adjusting to being a SAHM, and this blog would have been really useful in venting some of my crazy feelings during that time.  Again, in summary, I was feeling (in no particular order) guilty, giddy, excited, afraid, nervous, guilty again, so happy, so afraid and so so happy.  I've worked through most of these feelings, leaving only so happy and a little nervous, both of which are manageable.  I've embraced that my new job is keeping our home happy and clean, warm and inviting, full of love and memories.  I've accepted that I don't get vacation days, but I am appreciative of my family who affords me a night off once in a while.  I've learned that there are so many countless wonderful things that happen between me and Max and that recalling them to others is not nearly as effective and experiencing them first hand.  I've become proud of my teaching skills and how I hone them for my tiny class of one person; seeing him learn and knowing I taught him has become so much more concrete.  I've become resourceful, knowing that someone who works outside the home might see my situation as completely open and flexible, and that knowing my son, it's not as flexible as you might think.  I've come to appreciate a schedule, even imposing one on my own daytime life.  I applaud working parents, because even if you really love your job, it is still a sacrifice to walk out that door and leave your child behind every day.  I applaud SAHP, because having done it for several months now, it is every bit exhausting as it is fun.  There are no mandatory breaks every 4 hours of work, no sick days, no Christmas bonuses, and when Dave works all day and all night, well that's just a whole lot of Max.
And I wouldn't trade those minutes for anything now that I have them.

At Least I'm Predictable

Here it is, the last day in January and my blogging experience is already past due.  I think what happened was the Gaslight show went up and I immediately went back to work, which means little to no time for anything but the necessities.  And, unfortunately, blog, you are unnecessary.  But it's nice to be back for some venting.
I am so tired all the time.  I am tired ALMOST like I was when I was pregnant.  But I am not pregnant.  I am a working mom, yes, but a working mom of one.  One very good, very pleasant toddler.  And I have a supportive husband who contributes to the household.  What is the reasoning behind this?  I am not sure, though I think I have to go back to the dr. for bloodwork.  It's time to check my thyroid levels anyway; maybe my dosage needs adjustment.  If that's not the case, I will have to make an appointment.  Because I am not a fan of this.  I have NO energy.  I can barely get my work done on a good day, I never exercise and my sex drive is caput.  I am managing, but not managing well enough to stay happy.  I am trying to monitor my evening carb intake as well.  Sometimes it feels like a crash and burn kind of tired, so I wonder if I am overloading on carbs when I eat dinner with my starch-loving family.  That's no good for a variety of reasons, but it's also an easy-ish fix.  I do love carbs...but it's not worth it to feel like this.  I could close my eyes right now and I haven't even opened my bag to do work tonight.  This is not the example I want to set for my son, nor the wife I want to be for my husband.  For now, I have to fight it; hopefully, in the future, I can fix it.

Multi-tasking

Well, this entry was going to be about manners and words and how I love both when they come out of Max's mouth.  However, my hand-me-down MacBook (for which I am grateful, don't get me wrong) is a hand-me-down because it only works while plugged in; the battery holds no power at all.  So here I sit as Max plays, and I with him, reading to him, helping him build, pausing once in a while to add to this blog.
Then it happens.  The terrible thing on which sitcoms with laugh-tracks thrive.  Max pulls the plug.  Immediate shut down.  Of the MacBook and my brain.  Not only was I multi-tasking with the computer and the child, I was multi-tasking on the computer, uploading all of our Christmas photos and working on this.  For whatever reason, while uploading the photos to my photo site of choice, it uploaded every one 3 times.  (I had wondered why it was taking so long.)  So there I sat, scrolling, clicking and deleting.  Until the screen went black.  And the pit in my stomach formed, as I considered the tedious task in which I had already invested some serious playtime.  The thought of doing it all again made me want to just not share the photos.  Well, the photos were saved and all deletions had been maintained.  The blog, however, was gone except for the title: Help you?  Ironic...which you'd understand if you'd been able to read the text which is now gone forever.
My frustration when these things happen reaches admittedly ridiculous heights.  And the anger that follows is just as ridiculous.  I recognize it.  But I feel justified since I was so happy with the lyric of my thoughts and it's not something that I can recreate.  So I chose to not even try and shared this story instead.
Lesson learned: Max deserves my attention 1000% when I am able to give it.  It was a reminder that I don't always have the opportunity to just play with him and I should just take advantage of it when I can.  So that's where I'm off to...