We made is through about 45 minutes, most of which she spent ignoring the movie or chanting “no fishy, ELMO! no fishy, ERNIE.”

This is, by the way, a secondary attempt after I purposefully tempted her with the disney princesses (I tried “A Little Mermaid”) and failed.  She also protested Jungle Book, even though she loves animals and the zoo.

It occurs to me that I might be the only feminist ever to try and encourage her daughter to watch a disney princess movie.

Instead it’s all Elmo for Elanor.

Mid-afternoon, B texted me if it was okay to take Ellie to the zoo.  I said sure, and asked her to come home to pick up a swim suit, cab fare and such (I didn’t want them to take public transit as from our home the zoo is a 3 bus, 1 hour + ride).  I had a feeling she was with friends and made a point of saying they were welcome to come and share the cab ride.

B and her three friends (who were enjoying their one day off per month–don’t get me started on that) arrived with E, and they were surprised when I invited everyone in while I tossed a few things into E’s bag and took E to see her dad to say hi.  They all kept telling me how surprised they were at how good her English is and kept marveling at her independence.  They all apparently wanted their turn to carry Elanor…which didn’t work out so well as Elanor has her own ideas about being carried and will fight you like a caged mongoose if you try to carry her when she wants to walk, all the while howling “NO NO DOWN DOWN WALK ELLIE WALK”

So the four women and E head off to the zoo…several amusing stories arising from their visit…

1-Elanor took it upon herself to act as tour guide.  As they walked around she would imperiously point and intone in her high baby lispy voice “Fa-Mingo,” “Raffe,” and “RAWR” (for the lion) and so forth.  I have no trouble picturing this.

2-Apparently on more than one occasion, tourists would take pictures of Elanor and then ask them whose kid she was to need FOUR NANNIES!  They would tell the truth, but who knows who the random tourists thought they were seeing.  If you see a picture of E on perez hilton or tmz, let me know so I can correct any rumors that may arise of her being Brad and Angelina’s newest edition.

3-No matter how many times the aunties tried, Elanor always said “ELLIE WALK” until she decided to climb into her stroller for a nap.  Elanor is nothing if not independent and strong willed.  I’m sure that will be fun for everyone when she hits puberty.

So E and B had a nice day.  Hooray!

A year ago she was hesitant about everything.  She liked some of it, but often spent most of the class doing her own thing.  As she got older, certain things just began to fascinate her.  She has only recently begun to warm to the balance beam, but her longtime favorite has been the bars.

The next 30 seconds explains why I (and E) love our weekly hour at gymnastics class…

The Little Gym is not cheap, but if you have a really active kid who enjoys climbing and such…I highly recommend them.  And they are worldwide, so moving to the other side of the world (if you’re completely nuts like us) doesn’t mean lessons have to stop!

This is really happening.

Today marks six months in Singapore.  Which kind of blows my mind…in some ways (just like E’s babyhood) it’s blown by.  On the other, part of me is like “isn’t it time to move back to the US yet?”  Sure, there’s stuff I love about Singapore, but part of me longs for the familiar and easy (although I have no warm or fuzzy feelings about shoveling snow).  So I’m very lucky that I will have the best of both worlds over the rest of this year.  I have a few weeks left to do what needs to be done here, a month back home, and then I escape back to the warmth of Singapore before the blizzards start bitch-slapping the Northeast around.

No, I am not looking forward to traveling alone with E for like 30 hours straight.  The 14 hours from Tokyo to Chicago will either prove to be brilliant (once she’s asleep, Elanor can sleep like no one’s business) or a disaster (14 hours of nowhere to go but up and down a cramped aisle could be asking for trouble.  I’m trying to plan for as many distractions and contingencies, but I’m fearful at some point she will morph into evil toddler.  I simply have to remember that a plane ticket only promises passage from one location to another…it doesn’t promise good movie choices, edible food (or any food), that no one will puke, that other passengers will have the good manners to shower or refrain from excessive perfumes, that no one will get drunk and obnoxious, or that toddlers won’t act like toddlers who are being confined for 14 hours straight.  Luckily we have a 3.5 hour layover in Chicago and once through customs I should be able to let her run around a bit.  Also thankfully, the flight from Chicago to Boston is short.

The car seat solution was a painful one, but it was the least painful of all the scenarios.  Basically the problem is that I wanted a new Britax car seat as the just released models have much higher weight limits and in theory are easier to remove the covers from for washing (old models–NIGHTMARE).  I tried to get a used car seat here, on the idea that I just needed something for the plane…my in-laws could buy the new car seat and get it installed for me…we’d just chuck the used one at the airport or into the trash.  But the issue is that my traveling accessory requires LATCH to work (an American safety feature) and the used car seat didn’t have it.  No one here sells the Gogobabyz travel accessory, which is basically a dolly for your carseat.  So I’d be stuck with a toddler, a car seat, and no way to manuver either of them….not a great recipe for my back.  This was a FAIL

Only one store locally carried American Britax car seats (as opposed to British models), and they’re not getting the new models until some time in 2011 and at the usual SG markup of 25+%.  However, they were willing to sell me the old model for a 20% discount (still more than 20% its base price in the US before any markdowns for being discontinued, but less than that price plus shipping from the US for the same car seat).  It works with my travel accessory, turning a carry-on (with wheels) into a de-factor stroller.  If I don’t like it, I’ll buy a new car seat in the US and consign this one for store credit at a store I’d be dropping major cash at anyway.  If I do like it, E is likely to fit in it until she’s old enough for a booster seat (or at least until the sibling is big enough to take over this seat and E can move up to a higher weight limit one…although the day we worry about E being too heavy for something she’s supposed to fit into is a day I’m not holding my breath for) which in MA is 5 years and 50 lbs.

Flying with a toddler is not for the faint of heart…but my mantra will be (as it ever is when E is trying) “this too shall pass”…it’s just 30 hours to get 30 days at home.

And yes…I have lots of Elmo locked and loaded for the plane too…..what do I look, stupid?

Yesterday I had an encounter where a person in an SUV kindly stopped to tell me “PARENTING…UR DOIN’ IT RONG” as I was chastisting Elanor for misbehaving mid-crosswalk.

This (literally) drive-by attack led me to write long winded post on this blog (since deleted) and to take to facebook in an attempt to excoriate the person who had attacked me.  I was trying to exorcise the demons threatening to take hold of me.  That she was right, that I’d been in the wrong.  That I sucked.  Anger magnified and I was so upset and hurt that I didn’t even want to be around my daughter for a good hour…I was scared that she might bear the brunt of the emotions I was working through.

I don’t feel bad about writing the post I wrote and deleted yesterday, although I regret publishing it. Writing is often how I work through emotions, especially the big ones.  But I should know better than to put it out there.

In the moment that I did those things…that I let her anger me, that I let her open the door to my own worst fears and doubts about myself, that I then spewed forth that anger…I let her win.

A favorite quote of mine in general was said by Eleanor Roosevelt; “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I consented.  I eagerly consented, willing to believe the worst about myself in a situation where in my heart I knew I was right and had done nothing wrong.

I largely eschew parenting books and magazines unless I’m looking for specific advice on a specific topic (and even then find them to be of little help) because I know that my ways of parenting are not the current norm.  I loathe helicopter parenting with every fiber of my being…and especially when our children are small one of the most common refrains is that “you can’t be too careful.”  Maybe it’s because I can cite many examples from my own life as a parent and as a person before kids where I was careful and bad things still happen, except I was living a smaller and less happy life.  Where taking risks led to great reward.

I shocked my helper when I told her that E has regularly had alone play time since she was only a month or two old.  That I would lay her in the gym and let her play for a half hour…still in the room, but eating/ watching tv/ talking on the phone.  In part, this was to help her learn to play independently, and in part it was to acknowledge that I have needs too, and that I am equally deserving in having them met.  It’s hard for my helper not to try to stop every fall, to feel worry when she feels that she needs to tell me that E scraped her fill-in-the-blank while playing.  Because it’s not her experience as a mom or as a helper in any of the cultures she’s experienced.  Meanwhile, I know I’m the mother of an aspiring mountain climber/gymnast/stunt performer, and expect her to have scraped fill-in-the-blanks and to come home with mud in her hair.

I was a teacher.  When E eventually makes it to a school room, I will happily send in tissues, copy paper or whatever, but you couldn’t pay me enough money to be a room parent.  Nor will I feel guilty over saying “NO” to school fundraisers (mostly because I know how little money goes to the school and how much of a pain in the ass it is for the teacher).  Nor will I bring a forgotten assignment, pair of sneakers or a lunch.  Even in first grade (if we live somewhere that she’ll be in school for first grade).  This will mark me, in many eyes, as a bad or uncaring mom.  In my eyes, this will teach E to be responsible and to find solutions for herself from a young age so that when she moves out for college or what have you, she’ll actually know how to be a responsible adult.

I’m the only mom in my circle to not have her child in at least some fascimile of school at least part time.  No one has criticized me except for me.

If I’m going to stick to my guns, I’m going to have a lot more nagging problems than drive by parenting advice givers.  And the lesson is that I need to develop a thicker skin and not let them lead me to question myself.  Because while I’m not going to win any parenting awards, I don’t suck at it either.

One of the first times she tried to say “I love you” was when I was adding some finishing touches for the Father’s Day video, and got her to attempt to say “I love you, Daddy.” (go to the 7:19 mark) and while it was recognizable, it was garbled and a bit much for her at 18 months.

More recently (like the last month or two) we’ve been getting “wuv oo” or “wuv Em-MO.”

Last night, laying in bed with her after she’d been crying a bit at bedtime, I got my very first, perfectly clear, SPONTANEOUS “I love you, Mommy.”  It was followed by a rain of hugs, kisses and cuddles…the kind I desperately want, but my fiercely independent little girl is often too busy to give me.

Melt.

There are moments when I doubt myself. When this parenting thing is overwhelming beyond belief.  When it seems too hard.  When I’m in over my head.  When my toddler is just pitching fit after fit after fit.  When I wonder why I’m doing this.

And then there are these small moments where all the worry, the fears, the self-doubt, and yes…regrets….fall away and the moment is perfect.  When it is all happiness.

I’m grateful, because these are the moments that will help us both survive her toddlerhood.

She wasn’t sick.  There was no temp, no further throwing up, nothing to indicate to me that she was actually sick.

Which is when I realized she was reacting to me.

I don’t advocate that you should never cry, never have less than positive emotions in front of or to your children.  I don’t think it’s realistic.  But there’s a difference between crying in front of her and telling her Mommy is sad and making sure she knows she’s safe and my melting down and asking R to put her to bed for me because I didn’t want to deal with her.  She never got that reassurance from me.  So it isn’t shocking that she cried until she puked.

I’m not beating myself up over it (much) but it was an important parenting lesson that I needed to learn.

Note: I want to paint my nails mostly pink this month, since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.

Yesterday I met my friend, ojedelisi (tr. polish freak) and we had a nice time together. She gifted me this gem of a polish, which really made me happy. Elanor is a Turkish brand, but it’s really hard to find. No idea where those polishes are sold, actually. My friend was contacted by the manufacturer and she received the Elanor polishes for review reasons. But it’s still a mystery where they normally retail.
Elanor #311 is a warm pink holographic. I don’t own many holos, but I still think they’re awesome. The holo in this one is scattered, but the effect is still there. This is more of a subtle holo than a Wham! Pow! Into your face! holo. It was opaque in 2 coats but I did 3.

I really like this polish, it’s very ladylike with extra holo goodness.
More awesome posts to come =)
Don’t forget to enter the 100 Follower Giveaway that ojedelisi is holding!

I suppose it was inevitable, given that if I so much as casually rest a foot on the next step up on an escalator while riding it, E does that too.  As I swear like a sailor, her language was bound to become more colorful as she picked up on it.

And here is where I’m going to lose mom points left and right….I don’t actually care or think it’s a big deal.

The issue of children using “adult” language strikes to the heart of some of my biggest parenting philosophies…

1-The more you forbid it, the more attractive it is.  For anyone who is holding out hope that preshush won’t know the “bad” words…most kids know them all by kindergarten and use them “secretly” (“secretly” FAIL, at least on the playground) and by sixth grade at times have a better vocabulary (or at least more up to do date) than I do.

2-The notion that children are pure and we should keep them that way (Denial as a parenting tactic). As an atheist, this notion of “purity” smacks of Christianity to me, and all the time I logged on my knees asking for forgiveness for coveting a JEM doll.  I think that many issues are ignored, or not addressed until far too late because of this notion of purity…the irony of my teaching a sex ed class to a bunch of 7th graders with a pregnant teen in the room was not lost on me, for example.  I don’t think there’s much value in telling a child to pretend they don’t know a word they know (whether because I said it, it was on a movie, they heard a taxi driver scream it, or at a few years older; because a friend told them), or in teaching them that it’s a “bad” word (we’ll get to that in a second).  Denial as a parenting tactic has never really worked well, in my experiences as a teacher observing parent/child interactions.

3. The notion of “Bad” words. Words only have the power we choose to give them.  To a child, the idea that “shit” is a VERY VERY VERY VERY bad word only gives it power and makes it more attractive.  Now, there are words that are not okay in our home- racial/ethnic/religious/homophobic slurs.  But those words are off limits because they damage a person’s sense of self and lessen a person’s self worth.  I don’t think screaming “FUCK” when you drop something heavy your foot damages anyone or anything.  Maybe it’s an arbitrary line, but there it is.

The two things that do give me pause are that it would be inappropriate in school and that some other parents may not want E around their kid because of it.  The former isn’t really something I care about at this juncture as she’s not yet 2, and I won’t send her to school here anyway.  The socialization thing does give me pause, but I’m not sure  how much.

I think with regards to language, our goal will be to teach her that they are situationally appropriate words.  At home, sure.  Alone with us, no big.  Around other kids, just as we need to teach her to respect views that are different from hers (we are raising her atheist, but want to instill respect for people who choose to believe differently than we do), we will have to work on the idea that other people don’t think it’s okay for her to use certain words until she’s older.

To some extent, I think after that, it’s let the chips fall where they may.

But my kid saying fuck (echoing Ravi)?  I have way bigger fish to fry than “fuck.”

Elanor—Love……Daddy.

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Uh oh, Mommy.  The baby.  The hat (translation–Mommy, please put the hat back on my baby)

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How to ride in a Taxi

(upon getting seeing the taxi pull up)  TAXI!!!!

(upon the door opening) Uncle! (how we greet strange men)

(Upon climbing up onto the seat) BUCKLIE BUCKLIE BUCKLIE (

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Pointing at belly button–BUTT

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While at McDonalds, pointing at the giant golden arches— “M!” (is it bad that she sees that letter so often that it’s easily identifiable to her?)

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While trying to identify the letter “w”—-DOUBLE!

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The correct order to put on socks and shoes…

After I put on my first sock–MORE SOCKIE, MOMMY, NO SHOE

After I put on my second sock-SHOE MOMMY SHOE

After I put on my first shoe–MORE SHOE MORE SHOE

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I’m tired (and was more than a little drunk posting last night, and feeling a bit worse for wear today)…here, have a picture, too

I had brought bread, so once I saw her stirring, we settled in by the swan’s lake.  I showed her how to feed the swans, but she wasn’t sure about this whole idea.  However, she quickly warmed to the idea and was eventually frustrated that I had “only” brought 4 pieces of bread.

She then also found a great deal of pleasure in throwing away the baggie we’d brought the bread in.  (Sidenote–anyone want to explain why she LOVES to clean up/throw things away/ be helpful in locations that are not our home…and only locations that are not our home?).  She and I also spent some time playing with one of her balls.

Her clothes, by the way?  Size 18-24 months….still the teensiest bit big, but holy growth spurt Batman!  She’s (as of today’s weight at the pedi) 19.95 lbs (seriously?  19.95…the universe is torturing me here….fuck it, I’m saying 20 lbs) and 32 inches tall.  Her height is at about the same percentile she started in and her weight is still creeping back towards the 3rd percentile.  Sigh…my shrimpy girl.

I had the best version of balance I could manage in Boston until Ravi was laid off.  That was probably when the ground started to shift beneath my feet.  Taking the job in Singapore was absolutely the right move, but it, too, contributed to changes in our family dynamic.  In my parenting.

In the first month here, I don’t know that much changed.  I left E with B while I apartment hunted, but otherwise, she was with me all the time.  I was her mom, I did all but the worst smelling diaper changes (there have to be SOME perks to having a helper, right?).  I don’t think I “missed” much more of Elanor than I would have in Boston, giving her a weekly day with the grandparents and taking some me time during football games.

Looking back, it’s pretty easy to understand that where things began to go wrong was my 10 round fight against the superbacteria food poisoning.  Where I didn’t leave the toilet for 3 weeks.  When I did, I was weak, I was exhausted, and I was sick.  Sure, I’d listlessly lay on the couch and stare as E played, but I wasn’t interacting so much.

At some point, B started getting up with Elanor in the morning (especially as she is becoming an increasingly early riser–9 am in this family is considered the ass crack of Dawn), and Ravi started working later and later (getting home at 9, 9:30, 10…sometimes later).  Getting time with R meant staying up until 1/2…and then needing an hour or two to fall asleep somewhere between 3 and 4.  And while I may not be awake at 9, by 10 the construction next door has forced me out of dreamland.

In the past few months there have been illnesses that have sidelined me for a week at a time…not because I’m a baby, but because my immune system just isn’t up to the Asian superbugs it’s constantly encountering.

Over the past month, I’ve had more and more trouble sleeping, sometimes feeling lucky to get 3 hours.  I’ve felt like a zombie.  I’ve felt like everything…and here’s the big one…ESPECIALLY ELANOR is irritating and overwhelming.

And I realize that I’ve begun to withdraw from her.  So slowly, in fact, that it took a wake-up call recently for me to realize that she is a virtual stranger to me.  Sure, I’m putting in a few hours of face time, but more often than not, if she becomes overwhelming, rather than deal with it (as I would have no choice to do back home), I have the option of handing her over to B and chilling out.

It’s not that any of these things are necessarily bad or wrong in small amounts.  But when you add up the increased irritation due to lack of sleep, the constant construction noise (luckily you can only hear it on one side of the house usually), the fact that E is getting older and is now at a point where if she wants attention she (like any other kid) will do whatever it takes because it’s attention-good or bad, the fact that E is very strong willed and constantly in boundary testing mode, that she doesn’t want to be in the stroller, that I do want to be working on my own stuff too, and mix it with a giant dose of “I’ve gone off my mood stabilizing medication” it’s kind of a fucked-up mess.

It’s the kind of fucked up mess where I looked in the mirror today and saw not quite Mrs. X from “The Nanny Diaries” but someone who, without correction, could become her.

I’m appalled by it.

But that loathing for what I see means it’s not too late to fix it.

I’m trying to create a schedule where I have fixed times to be working, and fixed times to be with Elanor.  I need to give up control in some areas (maybe grocery shopping) where I am doing things that don’t necessarily NEED to be done by me to create additional time to do stuff with E.

I’ve also started taking sleeping pills, which obviously is a SHORT TERM solution, but getting caught up on my sleep is a non-negotiable.  Everything else feels so overwhelming and futile when I’m sort on sleep—I’m more likely to yell at the baby for minor infractions (how DARE you take the ribbon out of your hair) as opposed to rolling my eyes.  With a full night of sleep, I’m far better equipped to deal with a toddler acting like a toddler.

I’m working on setting limits with Ravi.  If you’re not home by X, I’m having dinner.  I am going to go to bed by Z, and I need him to respect that and do everything he can to help me reach my goal of a full night of sleep.

But perhaps the most difficult dynamic I need to redefine is that with B.  To use a poor analogy–the classic advice given to teachers is “don’t smile before Christmas.”  One can always loosen up the rules, but it’s far harder to become tougher.  I am a green, wet-behind-the-ears employer.  And for a good two months, B was the only person I really knew or saw regularly.  I was very invested in E & B developing a good relationship.  But over time, between illness and whatever, I gave her too much authority.  To the point where I put E in bed a few days ago and lay down myself and B decided that E had cried too long and let her out…without knocking on my door/texting me/or checking in with me at all whether it was okay or not (we are not completely consistent with this point, so I can see why she thought she was doing the right thing…but it was an overstep to empower herself to make that kind of call when I was 10 feet away…and I found out about it in the morning.)

Some of it is cultural.  I don’t need B to be in the kitchen all day and I don’t want her to be sitting in her room waiting for me to call on her to do X.  So B is hanging out with us in the living room, which is fine.  She likes Project Runway as much as I do, and other American TV that we put on some of the time.  The problem is that she entertains E too much…which at first glance might seem like a weird thing to say.  However, one of my parenting goals is to raise a child who does not need to be entertained…who can engage in solitary play. That solitary play was the means by which my sanity was kept in Boston, but she seems to be losing it for lack of practice.  Which means she needs to be left alone for 5 minutes to play on her own and regain it (and when we’re home alone and I’m letting her do it, I see that ability still there).  It’s just not the way people raise kids here–here they are small princes/princesses who are attended to in every way (I’m getting tired of people being shocked she can feed herself by hand or with a spoon), so it goes against everything B has been taught by every employer before me and every class she’s taken to let E just play on her own.

It’s also a hard line in that I want E to learn to negotiate and adapt to different rules with different adults.  She won’t be going to pre-k here (10k USD for a year of pre-k?  Um, how about 2 sets of round-trip tickets from Singapore to Boston for our family instead?) and I refuse to throw that kind of money away.  We can put it away and pay for MIT instead in the 2020′s.  Public school isn’t an option for so many reasons it would merit its own post. So having said that, I do need to give E opportunities to be in situations like school where other adults and rules are in play.

But then, as much as I appreciate B trying to teach Elanor things, I was woken one morning by E shrieking NO NO NO NO DOWN DOWN NO NO…and came out to see Ebeth trying to “teach” Elanor the alphabet.  She’s seen me do flash cards and work with Elanor and she knows that we value academic achievement.  But the difference is that I do them with E in a very animated matter and for only as long as SHE is interested in doing them.  While I’m not a certified Pre-K teacher, I do, at least, know far more about what I’m doing and why than B does…and while the emulation is flattering, the means by which the emulation is being carried out is counterproductive to the overall goal–teach E to love learning.

Finally, and this is the one where I feel most lost, is that B is genuinely invested in E.  Perhaps too much.  She has a daughter who lives with her mother (the girl’s grandmother) and she hasn’t had much opportunity to raise her.  Her former employer expected B to deal with all child related issues, so she was sort of a de-facto mom there, too.  *I* am Elanor’s mom…which I had been establishing, but lost when I through illness and laziness stepped back and let her deal with E.  Now that I am re-asserting control, there is (at least I perceive there to be) frustration, and anger on her part.  We’ve talked a bit about it, and I’m also trying to keep it relating concretely back to our trip to the US in November, where I will be responsible for Ellie on my own with no equivalent person to B, but I definitely get the sense that she doesn’t necessarily approve.  We are NOWHERE near it, but if I have to, I do always have the option of letting her go and sending her home…but I would hate to.  She loves E, she is a huge help, and especially with a second pregnancy on the horizon, I’d be stupid not to think I need help (and live in help is the only real option…believe me, we’d prefer a live out solution).

But I’m not blaming B for stepping up to bat…I’m angry with myself for sitting on the bench too long.  But here and now, I admit that I’ve made mistakes and it’s time to rectify them.

Because the “baby” was ALWAYS “dirty” and in need of a bath, regardless of us just taking the damn thing out of the tub seconds before.

Well, K…sit back and enjoy the show.  You didn’t even have to buy Elanor anything…she’s just decided that changing her baby’s imaginary “poopy” diapers is our job.  Which she requires we do multiple times an hour.  Often times multiple times in the same 10 minutes.

In terms of her expectations, the military could send drill instructors to Elanor for lessons in strictness.  We have to take the diaper off correctly.  We have to wipe the baby correctly and thoroughly.  We have to “clean” the diaper.  We have to put it on the baby again correctly.  We need to dress the baby correctly.  God help us if we get it wrong or try to clean the diaper first.

I’m starting to wonder if my baby dolls were often dragged around naked because I took their clothes off or if my mom did…after all, if the baby is naked, there’s no diaper to change….

I realize this is great (from a developmental perspective).  That we’re doing imaginative, age-appropriate play.

But can I just state for the record that if the babies were real, they would have died from dysentery weeks ago?

I’d love to write more but there’s a baby to be changed….again.

We got seats in the second row from the stage, which included a meet n greet before the show.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the big smile on Ellie face when we walked in the room and saw “EM–mo, Er-NEE, Coo-KEE, and BUT”said that a photo op was perfect in her book.  Although I expected her to be entranced by the idea of sitting in Elmo’s lap, she leaned over to give Ernie a bunch of high fives.

I should have expected the facility to have booster seats, especially for a kid’s show like Sesame Street, but I brought her portable high chair just in case.  The booster seats had no way of restraining the kids, and I was concerned about E wanting to run around, so the portable high chair was great for that, and considering her small size, putting the high chair on top of the booster seat ensured her ability to see over the 5 year old in front of her.

The show was about what I expected.  The premise is that Prairie Dawn wanted to have a pageant highlighting what everyone wants to be when they grow up.  Predictably Elmo wants to be everything, and Big Bird isn’t sure what he wants to be.  Ravi was suprised that the voices were pre-recorded, but it makes sense-after all, who could pull off imitating Elmo’s voice PLUS dance around in a giant costume where you (I’m guessing) can’t really see anything? (Ditto everyone else).

When the lights came up and the characters entered the stage singing “Sunny Days,” Elanor’s mouth fell open, a huge grin spread across her face and she began to clap.  Up until that point, she’d been pretty dubious about us being in this huge room with other parents and kids.

We spent some of the pre-show time walking to the one (really, ONE?) merchandising table WAY at the top of seating…we got her a program, a few DVD’s, and a spinny Elmo light up thing.  As a side note-I was really underwhelmed-it was almost like they sent whatever didn’t sell in the US to Singapore.  There were no t-shirts, no magnets, no other plushes besides Zoe (Zoe dolls?  Really?  You focus-grouped that muppet into existence and no matter that no one likes her, you’re just going to keep forcing her down our throats?).

She was entranced by the show.

To be honest, I spent most of the first act watching E’s reactions rather than the show itself.  It wasn’t like we were at Wicked or Phantom of the Opera, where I’m invested in the show.  I became a Sesame Street fan when I was 2/3 and watched religiously for several years.  Since E has become a fan, I’ve become re-acquainted with plenty of old friends (Big Bird, Cookie Monster, Maria, etc) and seen what passes for new characters (while she sounds like Carol Channing, I will admit that I’m quite fond of Abby Cadabby, but I find Chris and Zoe just meh).  But for E, it’s still AMAZING that Oscar comes up out of the trash can, and seeing Elmo up close and in person is just the shit.

Being so close to the stage, we got to enjoy when the characters came out and danced on the floor in front of the stage, giving kids in the front (and sometimes in the second, like E) high fives and waves.  I didn’t get a great picture because they were moving so quick, but you’ll get the idea from the next image.

There was a 15 minute intermission and then the second act opened with something I should have expected….

Oh Elmo’s World, you are an inescapable part of my life.

They did a reasonable job of recreating the Elmo’s World Experience.  The random question of the day, asking Dorothy’s opinion (with no response, of course), a computer running around away from Elmo shrieking “Elmo has mail, Elmo has mail” which morphed into the next musical number and the rest of the show.

And Mr. Noodle…of COURSE there was Mr. Noodle…

At some point in the second act, E got a little antsy, and I pulled her into my lap.  She spent the rest of the show in my arms, sitting in my lap, but she made it through the entire show.

The one thing I found kind of shocking was after they had made a point about staying in your seats to help the performers, there was a swarm of parents from the second tier seating who came down and literally swarmed Elmo, etc when they danced down the stairs.  Or the parents who let their toddlers run up and dance on the floor with the actors.  Here’s the thing, common sense would tell you that whoever was in the costume couldn’t see very well.  I have no clue what they were thinking when they swarmed/let their children run loose….a kid (or a performer) could have easily gotten injured.  I was also puzzled why security thought giving them dirty looks was going to be effective.

Overall, in my opinion, it was a rousing success.  Elanor had fun, she made it through the show, and Ravi and I didn’t feel the need to stab ourselves in the ears multiple times (unlike if it had been a Barney show…which has also recently been through town). She spent the rest of the day talking about and carrying around her Sesame Street figurines and loves the pictures from our day at Sesame Street.

Audrey’s surprise party takes a turn for the worst when the host dies and a chameleon is let loose.

“Haven” finally breaks the mold this week with a “Murder on the Orient Express” style episode.  Who has become the chameleon?  And how do you stop a chameleon when you find it?

Duke drags Audrey out to a private island that no one’s been allowed to visit in decades only to find that her friends had planned a surprise party for her there.  The happiness doesn’t last long when the host, Vaughn Carpenter, claims to have known Audrey’s mother.  It’s not long before all the find left of Mr. Carpenter is his body.  The chief claims that he was a shape shifter and that was why he was isolated on the island.  Now the creature would have killed one of them and taken their form.  Suspicious behaviour shines the light on several candidates but when Eleanor is killed, Nathan realizes that he can’t feel Audrey’s touch anymore and thus she must be the chameleon.

“As You Were” takes all the characters we know from around Haven and brings them together to solve a mystery.  Add in the pathetic fallacy of being trapped with a deadly creature in a dark house in the middle of a storm and you get an exciting episode.  For once Nathan and Audrey are part of the action instead of the investigation and anyone could be the killer.

Jose Molina puts together quite the mystery here and doesn’t make it easy to solve.  Throwing in one character the audience has never met makes her the obvious first suspect as she could be killed without a second thought.  Of course that would be too simple.  Everyone looks suspicious with the chief shooting up the boat so no one can leave and Nathan not knowing what present he got for Audrey or where his gun is.  In the end though, it’s Audrey herself who’s become the chameleon.  She did disappear for a significant period of time before the search began but with the expectation that the chameleon killed the person they are using; the audience would easily discount the evidence against her.  We all knew Audrey couldn’t die.  Eleanor ends up taking her place in that regard though.  The red herrings and evidence are well placed keeping you intrigued throughout the episode.

It seems strange to me that the chief was so willing to go to a party hosted by the man he knew was a chameleon.  Especially considering Mr. Carpenter had kept himself isolated all these years.  Yes, the chief wasn’t the one who planned to have the party on the island but had I been in his place I would have thought twice before agreeing to go to the house of the creature that had made me shoot my partner.

The chief is finally starting to take steps to get closer to his son with some prodding from chameleon Audrey.  It’s nice to see the effort and just how shocked Nathan is by it.  He’s sure there must be something wrong with his father to be giving him any kind of compliment.

For almost the entire run of “Haven” I’ve been eagerly awaiting finding out who is behind the cracks in the Earth and it looks like the revelation is here.  Dave says goodbye to Eleanor’s daughter and walks away just as cracks in the pavement form around him.  Hopefully the show can go in depth with his powers as he is an “almost main character” after all.

It seems as though several people have been keeping secrets from Audrey about her mother and why is still unknown.  Vince admits to knowing Lucy but is cut off before he can say more about it and Duke finally reveals that he was the little boy in the newspaper photo standing next to her.  Seems there is a bit of a conspiracy going on here.

“As You Were” takes the usual formula and shakes it up making it the best episode “Haven” has had so far.  The mix between the episodic story line and the story of Audrey’s past plus the character development for Nathan and Duke as well blends perfectly.  I have to hope all “Haven” episodes can be like this from here on out.

Andrea

But then something like last night happens.  Elanor had a fall off the seat of the couch.  I didn’t see it, as we were getting everything ready for bed and had turned to lead her to her bedroom.  I saw her standing with a baby doll and assumed that just as she always has (to the point of REFUSING to jump off things in gymnastics class) that she would scoot off on her butt or belly…safely getting herself onto the floor.  Instead I heard a crash and a shriek.

As we tried to comfort her, she began choking and vomited up a mouthful of mac n cheese (she’d had a late dinner, not long before).

No one knew the most crucial piece of information–had she hit her head?

I’ve made it fairly clear that I loathe was passes for medical care in SG, especially pediatric medicine.  But I have never cursed it as I did last night, as there is NO 24 hour nurse line for the pedi, no 24 hour on-call pedi neurologist.  I could take her to the children’s hospital, but who knows if they could/would do a CT scan at night, what they’d want to do in terms of restraint/sedation (and given that it took 3 tries to get blood from me, I’m not sure I’ve met anyone here capable of IVing my very teeny toddler).

I know the drill…there were two courses of action.  Get her to the children’s hospital and bully people until I got the CT scan at any cost necessary (by cost I means in terms of my personal dignity and willingness to scream/bully/intimidate others…not financially) or keep her up for another hour and then wake her periodically throughout the night to make sure she was rousable and not concussed.

The couch is about mid chest height, so my instinct is that the latter course would be the advice back home.

So I did what made sense…I dialed our neurologist in Boston and held until I got the on-call.  We walked through E’s case, the fact that she hadn’t vomited any more, that she was acting/speaking/moving normally, what her most recent imaging had looked like, etc.  And he suggested keeping her home, rather going to the hospital (which as I said, what sort of what I expected).

So I slept in E’s room last night on the bed with her (much to her delight), and roused her at midnight, 3am and 6am.  I slept like crap and had nightmares.  It was fun.

I really wish I could be the kind of parent who demands numbing cream for a regular shot because it’s so traumatic.  I want to be scared by a fall, not debating the neurological impact (I want to be normal, not a melodramatic parent).  I don’t want to know the protocols for a child with a neuro event in the past with regards to falls.  I don’t want to have a pediatric neurologist in my contacts.

I really don’t like being reminded of something that is largely behind us…except in moments like this.

It didn’t go well.

I think my reasoning that she might be ready for it was fairly sound.  She doesn’t like being wet or dirty and asks for diaper changes.  She knows what the potty is and the general idea that you sit on it, pee/poop, wipe and wash your hands.  She’s indicated interest.  She can push her pants down, for the most part.  She doesn’t poop at night, which indicates some small amount of control on her part, according to the stuff I’ve read.

So today we got out the potty, took off the clothes and diaper and began our experiment.  Unlike our first try a few months ago (she had interest, but wasn’t indicating when she was dirty), she actually sat on the potty for minutes at a time.  We had her go try every 15 minutes or so.

I didn’t see it when she peed on the floor the first time, I just glanced over and saw the puddle.  Of course it happened about 2-3 minutes before we were going to try again.

I shrugged and we cleaned it and Elanor up.

The second time she peed, she slipped in it (we have marble floors, which are slippery as hell when water-or urine-is spilled on them) and cracked her head on the floor.  This resulted in a big red spot on her head, a small goose egg and a river of tears.

Not 5 minutes later, I look down to see her about to pick up her own poop.  Her hands were a little poopy and there was some debate about if she’d ingested some.

This was the point where I declared an end to the experiment.

On one hand, I’m not sure she’s ready-she knows that she’s gone but may not understand what the urge to eliminate feels like.

On the other, I’m not sure I’m ready for the commitment that is potty training.  E is very good at playing by herself, and I’m used to dividing my attention between E and the tv, E and my laptop, and E and my phone.  E didn’t want our helper in the bathroom with her…only me.  With my back, I can’t sit on the hard marble floor for long periods of time, and sitting on a regular chair means I have to lean over to read/interact with her on the potty, which also results in pain.

I can’t help but think it will be easier as her language progresses.  Not that she might not be capable of potty training right now, but rather that I’m not sure the trade-offs required to potty train her now are worth it.  I’ve taken on some additional commitments and am trying to work a portion of each day in the bedroom or office and am strongly considering working at a library or Starbucks as it never seems like I get stuff done (or enough done).

I’m curious what your thoughts are on potty training.  Does anyone know how this works if the child is in a daycare center…I’m curious.  Do you believe in the idea that “it only takes one day to potty train, you just have to pick the right day?”–I’m not sure that I do, or rather that if you wait for that day, you’re possibly changing diapers far longer than you need to.  On the other hand, waiting for that day might be easier, and I’m nothing if not a fan of “easy” parenting.

I haven’t done of these in a VERY long time.

My darling little girl, you are no longer a baby.  It kills me to admit this because part of me isn’t ready to give up my baby, but you are leaving babyhood further behind with every breath.

Physically you are growing taller and bigger.  I don’t know your current weight, but I feel comfortable saying that you have most likely hit 20 pounds (FINALLY).  You recently moved up to size 12-18 month clothing and while 6-12 still fits-although it’s quite short, the 3-6 month stuff is finally skintight and has been fully retired.  I’ve put away all but your favorite pieces in size 6-12, mostly from boredom (considering you’ve been wearing some 6-12 month items for about a year now and consistently been wearing it for 9 or so months). However, I don’t need to safety pin the waistbands on the bigger size anymore, so we’ll officially say you’re a size 12-18 months.  In fact, you’re growing so quickly that just to be safe I ordered your Halloween costume in size 18-24 months!

Your hair is growing almost as fast as you are.  When wet and straight, it’s well past your shoulders in back and your bangs are almost to your mouth.  However, dry it’s just a massive riot of curls, with the back hanging past your shoulders.  I’m not sure if it’s because *I* love it or because my hair is usually up, or if like me you’re just more comfortable with it up, but it’s usually back in a short ponytail.  We sometimes do two ponytails, but you only reliably stay still long enough to do one, so that is far more common.

Your face looks less babyish, too.  I’m not sure exactly how to explain this, but as your personality gets bigger, you look like yourself and not like a baby doll brought to life (although I am guilty of dressing you up daily in matching outfits as I’m only going to be able to treat you like my living doll for so long in that regard).

You’re maturing in so many ways.

Your speech is becoming clearer (for the most part…there are still large chunks of gibberish each day) and you’re starting to speak in 2-3 word sentences (although I could do with less “Mommy no”). You can not, for the life of you, correctly do the /l/ sound.  As I’m not a speech pathologist, I did not realize that most kids can’t correctly say it until they’re 4-5.  Sorry that it’s the major part of your name and nickname.  I *had* planned to call you Nora, but you’re an Ellie.

You love the word shoe (and you love your shoes), but when you say it, your mouth gets stuck in the “oooo” position and you stretch it out to say “shoooooe” which is highly entertaining.  You also do that that when you say “moooon.”

Your biggest word is “watermelon.”  You ask daily to wear your watermelon clothes, your watermelon shoes, your watermelon hairbows.  You ask to eat watermelons.  I don’t know if you really love watermelon that much or if you just like to say it because it’s such a big word.  But it is a clearly articulated word and you know what you’re talking about when you say it.

You consistently have the majority of facial features down and can name them (eyes, ears, head, hair, nose, mouth), and know hands, feet and belly as well.  You can’t say tongue, but when I ask you where it is, you stick it out and move it around in a way that makes me want to fall over laughing as it’s just so funny.  We’re starting to work on shoulders, knees, elbows, fingers, and chin.

You’re starting to pick up random numbers and have picked up on the letter B.  I finally figured out why B was the easiest letter for you when I realized all the buildings, malls, etc around here have Basement levels and we’re constantly on elevators so you’re always seeing “B1, B2, B3, etc.”  You know we always push “6″ to go home, as we live on the 6th floor and you know 3, 4, 8, 9 because those are buttons you can reach in the elevator, but not with total consistency.

Our lifestyle has also influenced your speech in regards to transportation.  You know what a taxi is (although you don’t say taxi).  You greet the taxi drivers with “Hi uncle” (sometimes).  And you always get in and say “bucklie” and gesture that we need to buckle you in (as I don’t haul a car seat around Singapore with me).

You are going through a phase where all kids are “babies,” even kids much bigger than you.  I’m telling you now, this WILL get you into trouble with a bigger kid one of these days.

I think the most interesting aspect of your speech is that you add “eeee” to most words.  Socks are “sockies.”  Bottles are “bottlies.” And so on.  It’s not every word (shoes are shoe and a ball is A BALL), but it’s consistent.  We didn’t teach you that, but it’s just something you do.  I wonder where you got that?

You’re using your spoon 80% of the time or so correctly, although you still eschew the fork in favor of your fingers (you get that from your dad, who I’d also like to see use his fork more often).  You’re drinking from regular cups without straws and cups with straws, although we are often lazy and give you the sippy as it’s less messy.  My goal is to stop that in December after we return from our trip to the US…I can’t handle planes without sippies at the moment.

You are rarely in the stroller except for when it’s easiest for me (such as during grocery shopping, when it feels like you sprout 4 extra sets of arms and hands).  Your stamina is impressive, and even if you’re tired and need the break you protest as though we were trying to force you to sit in boiling acid rather than your yuppie overpriced ride.  You do not like to hold my hand while we walk though, which is often frustrating.  The two exceptions to this are if another adult and I are willing to “swing” you between us, or we’re going on an escalator (where hand holding is a non-negotiable).  When you don’t want to hold my hand, you lift your legs and dangle from me until I put you down.  When you do get tired, you ask to be carried, which I would love to do, but you are coming up on the limits of my safely lifting you at all (with regards to my back), much less carrying you for long periods of time.  However, it’s one of the few chances I get to snuggle you, so I’ll sometimes do it for as long as I think my back can take it before putting you in the stroller.  Often, I bring the stroller more for it’s storage capacity than any other reason, and it’s not uncommon for us to walk down the street together pushing the stroller of groceries or whathaveyou.

You are far more adventurous in your climbing, and I live in fear of the day you decide to scale our bookcases.  You’re also jumping (when you want to, never when you’re asked to in gymnastics), and spinning in circles.  You love the water and have upgraded to just swimming using arm floats.  You still hate to have your head go under water as you’ve yet to learn to hold your breath, though, and that’s holding you back from dropping the floats entirely…which is why we’re planning on signing you up for swim in January(ish)…you’ve reached the limits of my abilities to teach you to swim.

I think you’re teething again, and am not loving the 2 year old molars so far.  Or the way you’re  constantly chewing on your hand…if you eat it, it won’t grow back.  I’m just letting you know.

We are gearing up at serious attempt #1 (half-assed attempt #1 was a while back) to potty train you.  We’re going to be home next week and work on having you try the potty.  You can push your shorts down (you have trouble getting them back up) and you don’t like your diapers anymore (I get a lot of Mommy No and pointing at the bathroom) so we’re going to see if you are ready now.  However, you’re highly distractable and don’t like to sit on the potty for more than 3-5 seconds at a time, so you may not be ready (I’m almost expecting that it’s a bit soon) but we’re going to try and whatever happens, happens.

The big development, of course, is the move to your big girl bed.  We put my old (but still relatively new as it’s barely used) mattress on the floor, dressed in up in brand new bedding from Target, and moved you from the crib.  You love the big girl bed, but you hate being alone in your room.  Getting the nightlight from IKEA (it changes colors) helped, but there’s always initial protest.  We tried laying down with you (again, you’re not a super cuddly kid so part of me loved having that time with you, and having you fall asleep next to or on me reminded me of when you were a small baby and would sleep on my chest or in my arms) but that turned into you waking in the middle of the night and demanding that someone come in very quickly.  We are now doing tough love, and it kills me because I know the answer is so simple, but it’s the right move as I know that if I give in, I’m hurting myself and I’m hurting my relationship with your dad (who barely sees us to begin with). I may be overly optimistic but it’s been a week and we’ve never seriously considered putting you back in the crib, so I think once we smooth out the wrinkles (the 7am screaming today was not fun, fyi) we are in business.

Your grandparents (Dadi and Dada) came to visit for 3 weeks.  You knew who they were because we regularly skype with them, but from what they say (I was asleep) you warmed up once the presents started flowing forth from their suitcases.  Now you make a point of identifying them in pictures, and are more excited when we skype.  You also are happy to skype with Grandma and Auntie Debbie, and point to them but aren’t saying names yet…probably because Dadi and Dada are much easier to say.  I’m excited for you to see them again in November.

We’ve made friends here in Singapore, although, as in Boston, everyone of Mommy’s friends (with the exception of your cousin) has a son.  I have a feeling this will mean you will either be “one of the guys” or a girl with a LOT of suitors in 13-15 years or so.  I really want to see statistics on boy/girl births in 2008, because it feels (in our limited experience) that there were 10 boys for every girl.  I don’t mind, except of course that it would be nice to have more friends who are having the same potty training and such experiences that are unique to having a girl.  But I wouldn’t trade you for a million boys.

The hardest part (or so it seems) of being around so many boys is that we’re at the age where some kids are going through a hitting phase (and right now it does seem fairly gender specific at the moment, although I know that won’t be true in 6-12 months).  You are most often (as in 19 out of 20 or so times) the victim of the hitting.  It’s really hard because right now you don’t stand up for yourself, shout no, or even hit back (not that I’m super crazy about the last option).  I’m often bothered by how to communicate about this with you or how to help you deal better with it (or if we should keep our distance from the hitters for a time…although that seems like an unhealthy option and overparenting…I want to teach her to communicate “no hit” or to ask for a sorry or something instead).

Your personality is as big as your smile.  You are sweet (you love to give kisses, you run up and hugs us and then run away, you don’t like seeing kids upset), you are sassy (you said “biiiiiiiiieeeeeee” to someone trying explain that metal plates in the ground are slippery and you shouldn’t run over them), and you are filled with the kind of enthusiasm that is sadly only really seen in little kids.  You wake up ready to fully explore and experience the world each day.  You are rarely shy (although you definitely talk a great deal less around strangers than around family) but you are becoming less extroverted over time.  You have no problems telling us that you’re all done, that you don’t want that, and what you do want.

In terms of toys, you have recently embraced the baby dolls and now drag 3 babies around with you, and insist on them being in bed with you at night.  I see you less with your blocks, these days.  Balls are always a huge hit (whether big, small, in a pit, whatever) and you’re always excited to see and point at them to tell me it’s “A BALL!!!” (in that exact way…capslock exclamations).  You are still a huge fan of books and constantly are asking to be read to, although you rarely stay for the whole book, and Leslie Patricelli’s books remain the top of your list, especially “Yummy Yucky.”

You remain a huge Elmo fan, and are saying “Elmo” and “iPod” as we only show you Elmo on the iPod.  I have tried you on a few other popular kids shows (Blues Clues, The Fairies, Ni Hao Kai Lan) but while they’ll hold your interest, you are still all Sesame all the time.  You ask for it and are often irritated with us when we tell you it’s for bedtime.

You also have a strong understanding of what cell phones are and how to use them.  When I called your dad yesterday and hung up without offering you the phone you got mad at me and insisted that I call him back so you could say Hi Daddy and Bye Daddy.  You also know that my iPhone has the “Mama Video” (Muppets singing “Bohemian Rhapsody”) which is our go-to entertainment in cabs.

I often forget you’re not already 2 (or older) because you are constantly blowing me away.  You are my darling and exasperating girl, and I love you to pieces.  I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me next.

Love

Mommy (which, by the way is now what you call me instead of Mama).