Last week was...interesting. Maybe horrific would be a better word.
On Saturday night, Princess started having a hard time breathing, as did I. By Sunday, she was taking nebtreatments which didn't seem to do any good. She spent most of the day gasping, wheezing, and sounding like she was about to take her last breath. Scary. Especially knowing from experience as I do, that severe asthma can be fatal at worst and traumatizing at best. On Monday morning, I called the doctor and got Princess in at 1 pm. The doctor diagnosed her with pneumonia and sent us home with an antibiotic. Tuesday and Wednesday, Princess and I both seemed to improve which was good because I was about ready to have a break-down worrying about PRincess so much while being unable to breathe myself. On Thursday, Princess and I were both much worse. I got Princess into the doctor again. This time, chest x-rays and a blood draw were ordered.Princess does not particularly care for doctors and nurses probing, touching, or generally looking at her so I was concerned about sending my baby girl off into the x-ray room by herself (They still haven't changed the rule about pregnant women being near the x-ray machine). Apparently however, she and the nurse in charge of baby wrangling that day really hit it off and the only time Princess cried was when the x-ray technician tried to touch her.
The blood tests came back negative and the chest x-ray showed that Princess had pneumonia. DUH! Tell me something I didn't know. The doctor assured me that, since Princess didn't appear to be sick in any way or wasn't even running a small fever, that she had the "best kind of pneumonia to have." That really made my day especially since my daughter was still lying on my lap wheezing and exhausted from lack of oxygen. We were sent home with a prescription for prednisone this time.
Being a lifelong asthmatic myself, I've been around the block a few times with prednisone. In case you don't know, prednisone is a strong steroid that is often given to asthmatics when nothing else is helping. It weakens your immune system, does weird things to your stomach and appetite, can bloat you and make you gain weight. And that's just a few of the lovely side effects. Not something I really wanted to give my daughter, but breathing is kind of important and I know how much prednisone can help.
Princess loves taking medicine, and I've had to hide her baby tylenol because otherwise she begs for it. So I was totally unprepared for the reaction I'd get to the prednisone. The stuff tastes incredibly strong and burns your throat on the way down. Being a strange child, I actually didn't mind the stuff when I was a kid. Princess does not take after me in that way. She started eagerly sucking it down and then stopped, gave me a stony glare that clearly said, "How dare you give me something that tastes like this." and turned away. Try as I might, not another drop went down her throat. Most of it made it into her mouth, but was rejected and kicked out immediately. The next morning, I decided to be sneaky. So I made some really strong sickeningly sweet chocolate milk that I knew Princess would absolutely adore. Then I made sure she wasn't watching and surreptitiously poured 2 teaspoons of prednisone in the milk. I handed the cup to Princess who happily took it from me and began gulping it down. Then she realized that I had sabotaged the chocolate milk and I was graced with another "if looks could kill" glare as she handed the cup back to me. Try as I might, she only drank about 2 more sips. In desperation, I called the doctor's office to see if they had any ideas on how to get a 21 month old to take some of the worst tasting medicine available. The nurse cheerily suggested I put it in chocolate milk because "that works every time." She was rather taken aback when I informed her that I had already tried that and my one-in-a-million kid had not cared for it at all. She offered to call the pharmacy and see if they had any ideas. The pharmacist didn't call me back that day and so that night, I recruited Hubby's mom to help with the predisone taking. She used M&Ms as a bribe and managed to get both teaspoons into Princess. I was very relieved to see that Princess had finally taken a full dose of her much needed medicine. The stress of taking care of a child who couldn't breathe, trying to get her to take her medicine, not being able to breathe very well myself, and the incredibly crabby, clingy mood Princess had understandably, but still frustratingly been in for the last couple of days was wearing me down and I was literally standing on the edge of the cliff ready to push someone (probably Hubby) off of it.
Thankfully, Friday night I got a reprieve from the governor. My parents were going to a concert called Bowfire (look it up on youtube, it's amazing) and I had guilt tripped Hubby about not getting me anything for my birthday until he said I could go too. The timing could not have been better. We met one of my mom's old friends at an Indian restaurant which was really good food that I didn't have to cook or clean up afterwords. Then we went to a concert where I managed to relax and enjoy myself. By the time I got home that night, my nearly dead battery had been recharged and I was ready to get back to real life.
Saturday morning, after convincing Princess to choke down another dose of prednisone, I got a call from the pharmacist.
"I put the wrong dosage on the bottle. It's not 2 teaspoons twice a day, it's 2/3 of a teaspoon twice a day." he said.
I stopped breathing until he continued. "It won't hurt her to have taken so much, but it is hard on her stomach. Better skip a dose tonight."
I was furious. Was he saying that I had just forced my daughter to take over twice as much of a harsh steroid as she needed?!?!?!? Since I've been going to the same pharmacy since I started taking medicine and never had a problem before and because Princess was not going to suffer any permanent damage from the overdose, I managed to forgive him, but I will be triple checking everything from now on!
So anyways, that's my week. Lets just say I don't do well under pressure, but everyone came out alive. Even Hubby who almost didn't make it on Friday when, on my ONLY day to sleep in, Princess uncharacteristically woke up at 6:30 am. He could've been sympathetic, but instead his reaction was, "Oh good, you're up. Now you can pack my lunchpail before I go to work." But I managed to refrain from killing him (this time) and we're once again a happy semi-healthy family.
Unsolicited Advice:
I understand that not everyone has this tremendous resource at their fingertips, but whenever I get sick, I call in reinforcements to help me take care of Princess and the house. My younger sister was the lucky victim this time who not so willingly did my dishes, swept the asian beetles off my porch and did my laundry. If you have someone like that around, either ask them over or send the kids to their house!
WE'VE MOVED!! You can now find us at Sunshine and Spoons!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Someone's Going to be a Big Sister!
It's been 8 weeks since I found out. Hubby didn't want to tell anybody, so I decided to abide by his wishes. But now it's time to let the cat out of the bag. Baby #2 is on its way! I'm 12 weeks pregnant now and everything has gone well. I got to hear the baby's (strong and easy to find!) heartbeat at 10 1/2 weeks. We had a little scare around 6 weeks when I had three days of small amounts of bleeding, but that stopped, and then the morning sickness kicked in to reassure me that I was indeed, pregnant. Unlike my last pregnancy, when I craved potatoes in any shape or form, this time I'm craving cheese. Which has done wonders for my pregnant digestive system. Have I mentioned I hate chugging Metamucil?
My due date is April 27th although I know from experience (Princess was 2 weeks late and had to be induced) that a due date doesn't mean much. My sister, the one with a son 6 weeks older than Princess, is also expecting a baby in April. Hers is due two weeks before mine. So, if she goes a week late and I go a week early, we could save the relatives a trip to the hospital and kill two birds with one stone. But I know better than to count on that happening.
I'm nervous about adding a second child. I'm looking forward to having a baby again and am more confident this time because I know a lot of little tricks that make taking care of a newborn easier, or at least bearable. Of course, there is always the chance that everything that worked with Princess will irritate this baby immensely. What I'm nervous about though, is taking care of a toddler and a newborn. Especially since the toddler is very possessive of me and her toys. If I hold another child, she has a meltdown and tries to push them off my lap. Because Princess adores babies so much and is such a good little mother to her dolls, I think she'll love her baby brother or sister unless I'm holding him or her. Which could be a problem because newborns require a lot of holding. This time, I have a sling I plan to use which should help at least some, especially since I will breastfeed this one as well.
When I was pregnant with Princess, I didn't really start to show until I was over halfway done with my pregnancy. This time, I was wearing maternity clothes by 10 weeks. The fact that I'm a little pudgy around the middle and am wearing maternity clothes has made it a little harder to keep the pregnancy a secret. I thought I'd kept it a secret from most of my coworkers at the bed and breakfast, but apparently they had it figured out anyway.
My doctor told me that it's normal to show sooner with the second baby because your stomach muscles are already relaxed from the first pregnancy. No offense, doc, but that one was kind of obvious. Even though I lost all the baby weight and then some, my stomach never quite looked the same as before pregnancy. And by the way, although I was pleasantly surprised at the way the weight just kind of disappeared after having Princess, I hold out no such hopes for this one. If it does happen, great! But if it doesn't, I understand that it can be much harder to lose the weight the second time around.
Just a note to the person who left a comment on my last post about the pacifier saga-I will try to blog about how I got Princess to eat and stopped stressing myself out about her weight. However, just in case I don't get to it, leave another comment with an email address or something and I'll definitely talk to you about what's going on with your child. That way I could answer your direct questions better instead of just writing broadly about the subject. I know how rough it can be and I know it realllllllly helps to talk to someone who's been there.
My due date is April 27th although I know from experience (Princess was 2 weeks late and had to be induced) that a due date doesn't mean much. My sister, the one with a son 6 weeks older than Princess, is also expecting a baby in April. Hers is due two weeks before mine. So, if she goes a week late and I go a week early, we could save the relatives a trip to the hospital and kill two birds with one stone. But I know better than to count on that happening.
I'm nervous about adding a second child. I'm looking forward to having a baby again and am more confident this time because I know a lot of little tricks that make taking care of a newborn easier, or at least bearable. Of course, there is always the chance that everything that worked with Princess will irritate this baby immensely. What I'm nervous about though, is taking care of a toddler and a newborn. Especially since the toddler is very possessive of me and her toys. If I hold another child, she has a meltdown and tries to push them off my lap. Because Princess adores babies so much and is such a good little mother to her dolls, I think she'll love her baby brother or sister unless I'm holding him or her. Which could be a problem because newborns require a lot of holding. This time, I have a sling I plan to use which should help at least some, especially since I will breastfeed this one as well.
When I was pregnant with Princess, I didn't really start to show until I was over halfway done with my pregnancy. This time, I was wearing maternity clothes by 10 weeks. The fact that I'm a little pudgy around the middle and am wearing maternity clothes has made it a little harder to keep the pregnancy a secret. I thought I'd kept it a secret from most of my coworkers at the bed and breakfast, but apparently they had it figured out anyway.
My doctor told me that it's normal to show sooner with the second baby because your stomach muscles are already relaxed from the first pregnancy. No offense, doc, but that one was kind of obvious. Even though I lost all the baby weight and then some, my stomach never quite looked the same as before pregnancy. And by the way, although I was pleasantly surprised at the way the weight just kind of disappeared after having Princess, I hold out no such hopes for this one. If it does happen, great! But if it doesn't, I understand that it can be much harder to lose the weight the second time around.
Just a note to the person who left a comment on my last post about the pacifier saga-I will try to blog about how I got Princess to eat and stopped stressing myself out about her weight. However, just in case I don't get to it, leave another comment with an email address or something and I'll definitely talk to you about what's going on with your child. That way I could answer your direct questions better instead of just writing broadly about the subject. I know how rough it can be and I know it realllllllly helps to talk to someone who's been there.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Part One of the Pacifier Saga
I gave Princess a pacifier to try when she was only a few days old. Ever since then, the "paci" has been a part of our lives. When she was younger, she got the paci when she was fussy or tired or loud in church. When she turned one, the paci was banished to her crib where it was only to be used when Princess was sleeping. I bent the rules a few times when she was really sick or when I was really sick, but basically the paci is only for sleeping.
I was three when I gave up my pacifier. Before my third birthday, my mom began psyching me up to lose the pacifier. She told me over and over how when I turned three, I would be a big girl and big girls didn't need pacifiers. On my birthday, the beloved pacifier disappeared and I sadly went to bed that night without it. I remember several weeks or maybe months later, finding my old pacifier in a drawer in the changing table and looking at it with fondness. I wanted desperately to stick it in my mouth for old time's sake, but knew that I was too old for it. So I put it back and never thought about it again. The whole process was relatively painless even though up until that point I had always had my pacifier for bedtime. I thought this might be a good way to get rid of Princess's pacifier as well, but here we are, trying to get rid of the pacifier at 20 months.
Personally, I don't have a problem with Princess using a pacifier for sleep. It's not like she walks around with it in her mouth all day. However, I have fallen prey to mommy guilt. Mommy guilt is not just the guilt a mommy feels when she feels guilty for giving in to her child's demands for jelly on white bread for supper the fourth day in a row. Mommy guilt can also occur when somebody else makes the mommy feel like she's doing a bad job in raising her kids. The second is what happened to me. Certain people have made no secret of the fact that they strongly disapprove of me letting Princess have her paci. Never mind the fact that Princess is not their child and they have no idea what she really needs. I also have gotten several guilt-inducing lectures from co-workers, friends, and relatives. Hubby is of the strong opinion that Princess needs to throw her pacifier in the trash yesterday since he has been listening to all these people as well. Never mind the fact that he doesn't have to sit up half the night when she cries. If it were up to me, I would leave Princess alone until she's old enough to understand that big girls don't suck pacifiers, just like my mom did with me. But because of increasing pressure from so many people, I have begun cutting Princess off her pacifier. Literally.
Rather than go cold turkey which would result in traumatizing sleepless nights and days for both Princess and me, I am cutting the end off her pacifier little by little. The first time I cut a tiny sliver off, it didn't seem to bother Princess much although she immediately became more attached to her baby blanket. The second time, I cut off enough so that the air could get through and Princess...well, she noticed. She has become even more attached to her blanket and is not as thrilled about getting the pacifier as she was before. Every week, I will cut a little more off until she (hopefully) decides that the pacifier is not worth it and gives it up completely.
This whole thing seems ridiculous to me. With Princess's asthma, the paci has been an invaluable tool to calming her down and getting her to breathe again when she's gasping for air. She's also getting very attached to her baby blanket which to me means that no matter what I do, she will need something to sleep with, be it the pacifier or the blanket. Does it really matter which one it is? I'd rather it were the pacifier actually. It's easier to carry around then a blanket.
Unsolicited Advice:
Apparently, I don't follow this one well, but here it is. You know your child better than anyone else. Always remember that.
I was three when I gave up my pacifier. Before my third birthday, my mom began psyching me up to lose the pacifier. She told me over and over how when I turned three, I would be a big girl and big girls didn't need pacifiers. On my birthday, the beloved pacifier disappeared and I sadly went to bed that night without it. I remember several weeks or maybe months later, finding my old pacifier in a drawer in the changing table and looking at it with fondness. I wanted desperately to stick it in my mouth for old time's sake, but knew that I was too old for it. So I put it back and never thought about it again. The whole process was relatively painless even though up until that point I had always had my pacifier for bedtime. I thought this might be a good way to get rid of Princess's pacifier as well, but here we are, trying to get rid of the pacifier at 20 months.
Personally, I don't have a problem with Princess using a pacifier for sleep. It's not like she walks around with it in her mouth all day. However, I have fallen prey to mommy guilt. Mommy guilt is not just the guilt a mommy feels when she feels guilty for giving in to her child's demands for jelly on white bread for supper the fourth day in a row. Mommy guilt can also occur when somebody else makes the mommy feel like she's doing a bad job in raising her kids. The second is what happened to me. Certain people have made no secret of the fact that they strongly disapprove of me letting Princess have her paci. Never mind the fact that Princess is not their child and they have no idea what she really needs. I also have gotten several guilt-inducing lectures from co-workers, friends, and relatives. Hubby is of the strong opinion that Princess needs to throw her pacifier in the trash yesterday since he has been listening to all these people as well. Never mind the fact that he doesn't have to sit up half the night when she cries. If it were up to me, I would leave Princess alone until she's old enough to understand that big girls don't suck pacifiers, just like my mom did with me. But because of increasing pressure from so many people, I have begun cutting Princess off her pacifier. Literally.
Rather than go cold turkey which would result in traumatizing sleepless nights and days for both Princess and me, I am cutting the end off her pacifier little by little. The first time I cut a tiny sliver off, it didn't seem to bother Princess much although she immediately became more attached to her baby blanket. The second time, I cut off enough so that the air could get through and Princess...well, she noticed. She has become even more attached to her blanket and is not as thrilled about getting the pacifier as she was before. Every week, I will cut a little more off until she (hopefully) decides that the pacifier is not worth it and gives it up completely.
This whole thing seems ridiculous to me. With Princess's asthma, the paci has been an invaluable tool to calming her down and getting her to breathe again when she's gasping for air. She's also getting very attached to her baby blanket which to me means that no matter what I do, she will need something to sleep with, be it the pacifier or the blanket. Does it really matter which one it is? I'd rather it were the pacifier actually. It's easier to carry around then a blanket.
Unsolicited Advice:
Apparently, I don't follow this one well, but here it is. You know your child better than anyone else. Always remember that.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
If You Don't Go To Sleep Right Now...
Princess decided that she simply did not want to take her nap today. By the time we got home from babysitting and she'd eaten a delicious lunch of pb&j, it was 1pm. Definitely time for a nap, right? So I gave Princess her blanket and pacifier and laid her down in her crib with a good-night kiss. She didn't move at first, but then I left her room and sat down to finish my lunch. A tiny whimper reached my ears, then a louder one. Within a few minutes, she was screaming. Not crying, not yelling, but angry bloodcurdling screaming that came one after the other. After about 10 minutes of this, I marched into her room, checked her gums, her temperature, and everything else I could think of to make sure that there was nothing really wrong and quickly ascertained that she was throwing a major tantrum in an effort to skip her nap. I gave her a little swat on her diapered bottom and sternly told her that it was naptime and it was not negotiable. I tried to lay her back down in her crib, but she spit her pacifier at me rebelliously and tried to climb my arm to get out. I pried my arm out of her grasp and left the room to angry yells that soon turned into screams again. Within a few minutes, Princess was beyond angry. She was hysterical. I went back into her room and picked her up, knowing from experience that the only way to get through a tantrum this bad was to hold her close and tight and "shush" her until she calmed down. I finally managed to get her to stop screaming and tried once again to put her in her crib. She clung desperately to my neck and refused to let go. Finally, I gave in and sat down in the rocker to rock her to sleep. As she played with my hair, her fingers gradually slowed down until her hand hung in mid-air before dropping to her side. I realized then how much I miss being able to rock my baby girl to sleep. One of the great rewards of parenthood to me, is being able to hold your beautiful sleeping child and study all of their tiny perfect features. I thought about how just a few minutes earlier, I had been angry with her for throwing such a massive tantrum. Even though I had given her a spanking and was stern with her, she still wanted only one thing-me. Talk about humbling. I rocked her longer than I needed to, listening to her soft snores and holding her relaxed litle body close to me. And then I thanked God for the opportunity to rock my baby girl to sleep even if it did involve a temper tantrum.
Unsolicited Advice:
From the time Princess was a newborn, making a repeated "shushing" noise has always soothed her. Even now when she's 20 months old, I can still get her to relax by doing it.
Unsolicited Advice:
From the time Princess was a newborn, making a repeated "shushing" noise has always soothed her. Even now when she's 20 months old, I can still get her to relax by doing it.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Raid the Fridge and Talk on the Phone All Night
Today I started my new job. I'm a babysitter. Yeah, I know that makes me sound like a teenager who's trying to make a few extra bucks to go to the prom, but it is actually a steady reliable job.
Let me preface this by explaining how weird my work schedule has been. Before the babysitting gig, I worked about 20 hours a week-10 at one part-time job and 10 at another. The first was two to three mornings a week housekeeping and cooking at a B&B, the other (which I still have) was 2 mornings a week at the public library. My new job babysitting 2 children, ages 1 and 3, four mornings a week basically replaces the B&B job in the winter. The kids' mom is a preschool teacher so I will be able to rejoin the staff at the B&B during the summer months when the mom is on summer vacation. To accomodate the babysitting job, I rearranged my hours at the library so that I work two afternoons a week which is when Princess will go to my sister's house to be watched. I feel bad because by taking the babysitting job, I cut my sister's hours in more than half. However, my main goal as a working mom has been to spend more time with Princess, and I get to take her with me when I babysit.
This morning when I arrived, Princess was apprehensive about her new surroundings for the first few minutes. Then she noticed toys...lots of toys that she had never played with before. She completely forgot I existed, and, because the other kids were still sleeping, she had the toys all to herself for a while. Her joy was made complete when she found out that there were 2 kitties in the house and she immediately forgot about the toys to chase the poor cats around for a while.
All in all, the first day went well. The 1 year old sneaked around the walls of the living room keeping one eye on me, the strange new person, for the first half hour, but after that he realized that I actually wasn't a threat and decided to accept me. The 3 year old had been prepared by her mom for a new babysitter who was going to bring a new friend to play with. She was enthused to meet Princess although she was a bit disappointed when Princess preferred playing with her little brother.
Let me preface this by explaining how weird my work schedule has been. Before the babysitting gig, I worked about 20 hours a week-10 at one part-time job and 10 at another. The first was two to three mornings a week housekeeping and cooking at a B&B, the other (which I still have) was 2 mornings a week at the public library. My new job babysitting 2 children, ages 1 and 3, four mornings a week basically replaces the B&B job in the winter. The kids' mom is a preschool teacher so I will be able to rejoin the staff at the B&B during the summer months when the mom is on summer vacation. To accomodate the babysitting job, I rearranged my hours at the library so that I work two afternoons a week which is when Princess will go to my sister's house to be watched. I feel bad because by taking the babysitting job, I cut my sister's hours in more than half. However, my main goal as a working mom has been to spend more time with Princess, and I get to take her with me when I babysit.
This morning when I arrived, Princess was apprehensive about her new surroundings for the first few minutes. Then she noticed toys...lots of toys that she had never played with before. She completely forgot I existed, and, because the other kids were still sleeping, she had the toys all to herself for a while. Her joy was made complete when she found out that there were 2 kitties in the house and she immediately forgot about the toys to chase the poor cats around for a while.
All in all, the first day went well. The 1 year old sneaked around the walls of the living room keeping one eye on me, the strange new person, for the first half hour, but after that he realized that I actually wasn't a threat and decided to accept me. The 3 year old had been prepared by her mom for a new babysitter who was going to bring a new friend to play with. She was enthused to meet Princess although she was a bit disappointed when Princess preferred playing with her little brother.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Where's Your Hair?
Someone I know suggested I write about Princess's bad hair days/no hair days when she was younger. So here goes.
Hubby and I are both blonde. So, naturally we were a bit surprised when Princess entered this world with a brown fringe of hair that stretched from ear to ear on the back of her head making her look like she'd joined an obscure order of monks. Upon seeing Princess's brown hair, Hubby turned to me and asked me what color of hair the milkman had. Having just gone through 10 hours of labor and 1 1/2 hours of pushing, I was in no mood for jokes and set him straight without hesitation.
Within a few months, most of Princess's scant hair had fallen out leaving her with a few wisps here and there. She was officially bald. She stayed that way until she was about 9 months old when blonde hair finally began to appear on her scalp. When I took her out, complete strangers would approach me to coo over my baby only to ask me, "Where's her hair?" I tried to stay nonviolent in my reply but, after a while, I resorted to putting a hat on Princess whenever we left the house. My dear aunt found her a bib that read "Bald is Beautiful" and Princess wore it with pride until I was finally able to retire it for the joyous reason that it no longer told the truth. My younger sister nicknamed Princess, Cueball, and the only reason I did not kill her and bury her body in the backyard was because she's a free babysitter available almost anytime. To make matters worse, my older sister had a baby boy 6 weeks before I had Princess, and her son was blessed with a full head of curls from the day he was born. Whenever she teased me about how her boy had more hair than my girl, I threatened to shave Maximus's's head and turn his hair into a wig for Princess.
To make matters worse, at around 6 weeks, Princess developed cradle cap. Some babies never get this, some have it clear up right away, and some are like Princess. For about 3 months straight I battled severe, unsightly cradle cap day and night. I tried everything. The doctor told me to put baby oil on it and then comb the flaky scales off her scalp. I went through half a bottle of baby oil (and as most mothers can attest, baby oil is one of those baby products you can never use up) before realizing that it actually irritated Princess's sensitive scalp and made the situation worse. In desperation, I tried something new. I slathered her head with vaseline because I knew from experience that it is one of the most natural products a person can use on their skin. Then I pulled a pink cotton hat on Princess's head and left it on until the vaseline could soak in because I also knew from experience that vaseline is messy and leaves greasy stains. After a few hours, the hat came off and I combed the yellowish scales from her head. After repeating this for about 2 weeks, the cradle cap cleared up completely. For the next several months, I occasionally had to repeat the procedure for a day or two, but it always went away after that. At 20 months old, Princess has been cradle cap free for approximately a year.
Unsolicited Advice:
See above solution for cradle cap.
Hubby and I are both blonde. So, naturally we were a bit surprised when Princess entered this world with a brown fringe of hair that stretched from ear to ear on the back of her head making her look like she'd joined an obscure order of monks. Upon seeing Princess's brown hair, Hubby turned to me and asked me what color of hair the milkman had. Having just gone through 10 hours of labor and 1 1/2 hours of pushing, I was in no mood for jokes and set him straight without hesitation.
Within a few months, most of Princess's scant hair had fallen out leaving her with a few wisps here and there. She was officially bald. She stayed that way until she was about 9 months old when blonde hair finally began to appear on her scalp. When I took her out, complete strangers would approach me to coo over my baby only to ask me, "Where's her hair?" I tried to stay nonviolent in my reply but, after a while, I resorted to putting a hat on Princess whenever we left the house. My dear aunt found her a bib that read "Bald is Beautiful" and Princess wore it with pride until I was finally able to retire it for the joyous reason that it no longer told the truth. My younger sister nicknamed Princess, Cueball, and the only reason I did not kill her and bury her body in the backyard was because she's a free babysitter available almost anytime. To make matters worse, my older sister had a baby boy 6 weeks before I had Princess, and her son was blessed with a full head of curls from the day he was born. Whenever she teased me about how her boy had more hair than my girl, I threatened to shave Maximus's's head and turn his hair into a wig for Princess.
To make matters worse, at around 6 weeks, Princess developed cradle cap. Some babies never get this, some have it clear up right away, and some are like Princess. For about 3 months straight I battled severe, unsightly cradle cap day and night. I tried everything. The doctor told me to put baby oil on it and then comb the flaky scales off her scalp. I went through half a bottle of baby oil (and as most mothers can attest, baby oil is one of those baby products you can never use up) before realizing that it actually irritated Princess's sensitive scalp and made the situation worse. In desperation, I tried something new. I slathered her head with vaseline because I knew from experience that it is one of the most natural products a person can use on their skin. Then I pulled a pink cotton hat on Princess's head and left it on until the vaseline could soak in because I also knew from experience that vaseline is messy and leaves greasy stains. After a few hours, the hat came off and I combed the yellowish scales from her head. After repeating this for about 2 weeks, the cradle cap cleared up completely. For the next several months, I occasionally had to repeat the procedure for a day or two, but it always went away after that. At 20 months old, Princess has been cradle cap free for approximately a year.
Unsolicited Advice:
See above solution for cradle cap.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Is It Toddlerhood or an Evil Plot to Take Over the World?
A thought struck me tonight as I was scraping a burnt candle wick out of Princess's mouth. Parenthood is strange. Hard, fun, exciting, rewarding, and strange.
I never thought I would see the day when I obsessed over another person's body functions the way I do with Princess. When she was a newborn, Hubby and I carefully noted each and every diaper and its contents. Now that's she's being potty trained, I cheer and reward her with an m&m each time she pees in the toilet and she gets a standing ovation when she poops in the toilet. And honestly, the phrases, "No, Honey. Don't play in your potty." and "Oh no! You dropped your m&m in the toilet! Let me get you another one." were things I never really saw myself saying.
Speaking of weird phrases, there are so many times that I say something to Princess only to find myself realizing how strange I would sound to another person. Some of my favorites so far:
"Princess, stop! Sheep don't go in the garbage!"
"Stop eating that candle."
"Why are there teeth marks in your shoes?"
"Why don't you go give Tigger a hug?"
"We don't lick the carpet, Honey."
"Take that cat food out of your mouth and give it back to the kitty."
I think parenthood is especially strange when you're the parent of a toddler. Princes's moods, likes and dislikes, and behaviors change from moment to moment. A food that she couldn't get enough of yesterday makes her scream in horror at the sight of today. She can be laughing hysterically at me making faces at her and then mid-laugh, will switch to a condescending frown that says, "How dumb do you think I am?" I've given up trying to figure out why Princess does the things she does, things like throwing the baby doll she'd been mothering so gently to the floor and stomping on its head or carrying a empty gatorade bottle around with her for two days straight.
I was at The Farm one evening for supper and Hubby's mother started putting some peas on Princess's high chair tray. I immediately told her not to bother because Princess couldn't stand peas and hadn't eaten them since she was about 6 months old. Before the words had left my mouth, Princess was shoveling the peas in her mouth like she couldn't get enough of them. My mother-in-law told me that when her kids were younger, and they inevitably proved her wrong when she made a statement about them, she would say, "I'm just the mom, what do I know?" How true.
Unsolicited Advice:
When Princess is balking at doing something like cleaning her toys up or giving me a few minutes to do some laundry, I have found that I can make her happy by asking her if she would help me. She's happy and busy for a few minutes and I get my way too!
I never thought I would see the day when I obsessed over another person's body functions the way I do with Princess. When she was a newborn, Hubby and I carefully noted each and every diaper and its contents. Now that's she's being potty trained, I cheer and reward her with an m&m each time she pees in the toilet and she gets a standing ovation when she poops in the toilet. And honestly, the phrases, "No, Honey. Don't play in your potty." and "Oh no! You dropped your m&m in the toilet! Let me get you another one." were things I never really saw myself saying.
Speaking of weird phrases, there are so many times that I say something to Princess only to find myself realizing how strange I would sound to another person. Some of my favorites so far:
"Princess, stop! Sheep don't go in the garbage!"
"Stop eating that candle."
"Why are there teeth marks in your shoes?"
"Why don't you go give Tigger a hug?"
"We don't lick the carpet, Honey."
"Take that cat food out of your mouth and give it back to the kitty."
I think parenthood is especially strange when you're the parent of a toddler. Princes's moods, likes and dislikes, and behaviors change from moment to moment. A food that she couldn't get enough of yesterday makes her scream in horror at the sight of today. She can be laughing hysterically at me making faces at her and then mid-laugh, will switch to a condescending frown that says, "How dumb do you think I am?" I've given up trying to figure out why Princess does the things she does, things like throwing the baby doll she'd been mothering so gently to the floor and stomping on its head or carrying a empty gatorade bottle around with her for two days straight.
I was at The Farm one evening for supper and Hubby's mother started putting some peas on Princess's high chair tray. I immediately told her not to bother because Princess couldn't stand peas and hadn't eaten them since she was about 6 months old. Before the words had left my mouth, Princess was shoveling the peas in her mouth like she couldn't get enough of them. My mother-in-law told me that when her kids were younger, and they inevitably proved her wrong when she made a statement about them, she would say, "I'm just the mom, what do I know?" How true.
Unsolicited Advice:
When Princess is balking at doing something like cleaning her toys up or giving me a few minutes to do some laundry, I have found that I can make her happy by asking her if she would help me. She's happy and busy for a few minutes and I get my way too!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
"Mommy, Why Is It Called Labor Day When All We Do Is Sit Around?"
For Labor Day, my favorite holiday, we went to Minnehaha Falls like we do every year. Generally, we meet family from both my mom's and dad's sides of the family there. We talk, watch the kids (there's three 1 year olds so a lot of attention is required, especially now that all three are walking/running!), jam with our instruments, listen to the bluegrass concerts playing at the grandstand in the park, and walk the trails down by the waterfall. It's something that I look forward to every year. Hubby did not join us this year as the weather was perfect for putting a roof on a house with his dad and brother. Which is what he did. My parents and little sister took their car to the Falls while my sister, her husband, and son Maximus hitched a ride with Princess and me. My sister's husband spent most of the day complaining how nice the weather was and, how if he were home, he could be getting a lot of work done. After 15 minutes of that, I was actually kind of glad that Hubby had opted to pound nails and work on a hot rooftop all day rather than come with us because I knew that he and my sister's Hubby would feed off of each other's misery in being forced to take a day to relax with the family.
The day was perfect. A cool breeze drifted through the air and we had our cookout on three of the highly coveted picnic tables that we had shown up for at 10:30 a.m. to reserve. After a highly nutritious lunch of hot dogs, chips, and cookies that was enjoyed by the three toddlers very much, we started tuning our instruments. My dad got out his banjo, I nabbed his fiddle since it's waaaaaay better than mine, my cousin rosined up her fiddle, my brother tuned his guitar, and my sister and mother shared a mandolin. After a few warmup songs, we were joined by another man with a guitar and a great repetoire of bluegrass songs. We had a great jam session while the adults who weren't playing an instrument or singing watched the kids. 14 month old Rose managed to literally roll in the dirt and was brown from head to toe while Maximus's dad futilely tried to get him to sleep before giving in and taking a nap himself while his son sat in his Looney Tunes stroller valiantly keeping his eyes wide open. My dear daughter fell asleep almost the minute I put her in her umbrella stroller and stayed that way for an hour and a half before being wakened by a very ripe diaper.
I do have one rant about the day. As we were jamming, a respectful looking black man (I would use the politically correct term of "African American," but I feel as if that's not fair to the rest of us who aren't labeled with our original nationalities. If I call him African American, then I would have to insist upon being called Scandinavian American.) came up to us and asked if we would like to do a good deed for the day. We hemmed and hawed as he launched into a sob story about needing $22 for bus fare on the Greyhound to get back home. I don't know if he was telling the truth or not and in our society today, I tend to lean toward skepticism. My dad answered him by telling him the truth about us-that most of our family was unemployed (the usual state of musicians) and the ones who did have jobs didn't make enough money to pay their own bills. The man walked away as soon as we turned him down, but as he did, everyone heard him mutter just loud enough so we could hear him, "I know. It's because I'm black." Here comes the ranting part of this inspirational story. I was infuriated when I heard him say that. I didn't care if he was black, white, or purple! The fact was that no one there had money to spare and what little money we did have we'd already used to pay for gas to get to Minnehaha Falls to spend time with family that day. I had exactly $6 in my wallet which needed to last me until the next payday in a week and a half. The man seemed respectable, at least until he made a racist comment as he walked away, and if I'd had some extra money, I may have been inclined to help him out, and I know the rest of my family felt the same way. To me, a person is a person, no matter what color their skin and it really irritates me when someone accuses me of being racist because I won't give him the money I need to buy groceries! It also annoys me when I hear white people being accused of keeping racism alive and well today because white people are not the only ones doing it!
Unsolicited Advice:
When we go to Minnehaha Falls or anywhere else for the whole day and I'm packing a cooler, I always throw an insulated sippy cup of milk in the freezer the night before. In the morning, I put it in the cooler with the rest of the food and take it out before Princess eats her meal so it can thaw just enough for her to drink some. By doing this, the milk lasts until her snack in the mid-afternoon because it's still cold.
The day was perfect. A cool breeze drifted through the air and we had our cookout on three of the highly coveted picnic tables that we had shown up for at 10:30 a.m. to reserve. After a highly nutritious lunch of hot dogs, chips, and cookies that was enjoyed by the three toddlers very much, we started tuning our instruments. My dad got out his banjo, I nabbed his fiddle since it's waaaaaay better than mine, my cousin rosined up her fiddle, my brother tuned his guitar, and my sister and mother shared a mandolin. After a few warmup songs, we were joined by another man with a guitar and a great repetoire of bluegrass songs. We had a great jam session while the adults who weren't playing an instrument or singing watched the kids. 14 month old Rose managed to literally roll in the dirt and was brown from head to toe while Maximus's dad futilely tried to get him to sleep before giving in and taking a nap himself while his son sat in his Looney Tunes stroller valiantly keeping his eyes wide open. My dear daughter fell asleep almost the minute I put her in her umbrella stroller and stayed that way for an hour and a half before being wakened by a very ripe diaper.
I do have one rant about the day. As we were jamming, a respectful looking black man (I would use the politically correct term of "African American," but I feel as if that's not fair to the rest of us who aren't labeled with our original nationalities. If I call him African American, then I would have to insist upon being called Scandinavian American.) came up to us and asked if we would like to do a good deed for the day. We hemmed and hawed as he launched into a sob story about needing $22 for bus fare on the Greyhound to get back home. I don't know if he was telling the truth or not and in our society today, I tend to lean toward skepticism. My dad answered him by telling him the truth about us-that most of our family was unemployed (the usual state of musicians) and the ones who did have jobs didn't make enough money to pay their own bills. The man walked away as soon as we turned him down, but as he did, everyone heard him mutter just loud enough so we could hear him, "I know. It's because I'm black." Here comes the ranting part of this inspirational story. I was infuriated when I heard him say that. I didn't care if he was black, white, or purple! The fact was that no one there had money to spare and what little money we did have we'd already used to pay for gas to get to Minnehaha Falls to spend time with family that day. I had exactly $6 in my wallet which needed to last me until the next payday in a week and a half. The man seemed respectable, at least until he made a racist comment as he walked away, and if I'd had some extra money, I may have been inclined to help him out, and I know the rest of my family felt the same way. To me, a person is a person, no matter what color their skin and it really irritates me when someone accuses me of being racist because I won't give him the money I need to buy groceries! It also annoys me when I hear white people being accused of keeping racism alive and well today because white people are not the only ones doing it!
Unsolicited Advice:
When we go to Minnehaha Falls or anywhere else for the whole day and I'm packing a cooler, I always throw an insulated sippy cup of milk in the freezer the night before. In the morning, I put it in the cooler with the rest of the food and take it out before Princess eats her meal so it can thaw just enough for her to drink some. By doing this, the milk lasts until her snack in the mid-afternoon because it's still cold.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
What is That On the Wall?!?!
It's Friday and so far, the week has been...interesting. Monday morning started out okay since Louise decided to sleep in a little. After that though, things went downhill fast. I'm in the process of rearranging and organizing Princess's room which involves moving a lot of furniture. I was moving a plastic set of portable drawers filled with my abundant amounts of scrapbooking supplies which I really should use, but don't because I'm too lazy and would rather throw all my pictures and keepsakes in a box out. Lo and behold, but what should I find behind said plastic drawers? Lots of lovely grayish, greenish, creeping mold spreading across the wall behind it. Being dangerously allergic to mold, I grabbed Princess who was pulling the last few books of her bookshelves and ran screaming from the room, slamming the door behind me. Ok, I didn't actually run screaming. But I was quite horrified to say the least, especially when I realized that my precious little angel had been sleeping and playing in that mold infested bedroom. That evening, I called my father-in-law, a farmer, carpenter, and jack of all trades to come and fix it for me. As it was already past 10 pm, he promised to be there the next day.
At work the next day, I was bemoaning the discovery of mold in my house to a coworker, who asked me a question that immediately sent floods of guilt flowing through me.
"Does Princess get sick often?" he queried.
As I nodded, the realization that we may have found the cause for Princess's monthly bouts of colds and that I, as her mother, should have discovered the mold earlier and saved my child from countless runny noses and attacks of wheezing, hit me. If only I had motivated myself to rearranging Princess's room earlier! If only I had used my mother's intuition to "see" the mold growing behind the set of drawers. If only I had realized that running the vaporizer almost constantly in her room at nights because she was sick so often could encourage the spread of that mold. But I didn't. And in all reality, there really wasn't a way for me to have known. But I was still berating myself for my inattention when I left work to pick up Princess from my sister's house.
My father-in-law came to my house that afternoon, armed with a cleaning product that he said would kill mold. As Hubby and I stood around and watched helplessly, occasionally chasing Princess from the room although she wanted to play with Grandpa, Hubby's dad scrubbed the wall and the evil mold was removed. He cautioned us to keep the air circulating in Princess's room with the ceiling fan and to watch closely for signs that the mold was growing back which would indicate that it was not merely on the surface of the wall, but inside as well, which would require the removal of the drywall to remedy. It's Friday and although I scrutinize the wall with a flashlight several times a day, I haven't seen anything yet. Princess spent several nights in our room in her pack n' play while her room aired out. She slept great; Hubby and I were awakened by the constant kicking, turning over, scratching at the sides of the pack n' play and general tossing and turning of an active 19 month old.
Another wonderful thing occurred on Monday. My internet, which I rely on more than I should perhaps, went down. The landlady's modem had gone out and since we were getting wireless from her internet connection, our internet was sadly absent. As I write this, I am at home pecking away at the keyboard on my laptop as she installed a new modem today. But for the last four days, I have had to satisfy my appetite for Facebook, email, and all the other pointless things I waste my time on the computer with, at the public library. That wasn't exactly the best of situations. My mom is the head librarian at the library and I work as a substitute with 2 regular days a week (I know, I know. That screams nepotism, but truthfully, my mom didn't have much to do with me getting a job there), so Princess is quite familiar with the library. One would think that as the granddaughter of the librarian and the daughter of the library substitute, Princess would have the proper respect for the public library. Nope. Everytime, we go there, I try to teach her to stay in the children's area and play quietly while I accomplish what I came there to do, but when I am constantly chasing her down and leading her back into the children's area, it really cuts down on the quantity and quality of time I can spend on the internet. And of course, when she starts crying because I won't let her run wild, I can't just ignore her like I can at home when she is throwing a tantrum. The other library patrons start giving me dirty looks when Princess starts her whining and crying spiel for the fourth time in as many minutes and at that point, I usually beat a hasty retreat out the door, leaving my Facebook status midsentence.
I guess other than that, the week hasn't been too bad. The mold threw me for a loop and the not-working internet was an inconvenience. Besides those two things, the week's been pretty normal except for when Princess's favorite outdoor ball was discovered Wednesday afternoon lying beneath her slide. It had been the victim of a vicious deflating by a deranged raccoon or some other wild animal. She took it in stride however, and attempted to bounce it on the deck anyways, looking slighly puzzled when it just plopped on the ground looking like it had melted. But it is replaceable and I think we will recover easily from that last trauma.
Unsolicited Advice:
Uddercovers.com is having a promotional sale on nursing covers. Use the code charming2 at checkout and you get the nursing cover for the cost of shipping and handling which I believe, runs around $8.00. Pretty good deal for a $35 nursing cover!
At work the next day, I was bemoaning the discovery of mold in my house to a coworker, who asked me a question that immediately sent floods of guilt flowing through me.
"Does Princess get sick often?" he queried.
As I nodded, the realization that we may have found the cause for Princess's monthly bouts of colds and that I, as her mother, should have discovered the mold earlier and saved my child from countless runny noses and attacks of wheezing, hit me. If only I had motivated myself to rearranging Princess's room earlier! If only I had used my mother's intuition to "see" the mold growing behind the set of drawers. If only I had realized that running the vaporizer almost constantly in her room at nights because she was sick so often could encourage the spread of that mold. But I didn't. And in all reality, there really wasn't a way for me to have known. But I was still berating myself for my inattention when I left work to pick up Princess from my sister's house.
My father-in-law came to my house that afternoon, armed with a cleaning product that he said would kill mold. As Hubby and I stood around and watched helplessly, occasionally chasing Princess from the room although she wanted to play with Grandpa, Hubby's dad scrubbed the wall and the evil mold was removed. He cautioned us to keep the air circulating in Princess's room with the ceiling fan and to watch closely for signs that the mold was growing back which would indicate that it was not merely on the surface of the wall, but inside as well, which would require the removal of the drywall to remedy. It's Friday and although I scrutinize the wall with a flashlight several times a day, I haven't seen anything yet. Princess spent several nights in our room in her pack n' play while her room aired out. She slept great; Hubby and I were awakened by the constant kicking, turning over, scratching at the sides of the pack n' play and general tossing and turning of an active 19 month old.
Another wonderful thing occurred on Monday. My internet, which I rely on more than I should perhaps, went down. The landlady's modem had gone out and since we were getting wireless from her internet connection, our internet was sadly absent. As I write this, I am at home pecking away at the keyboard on my laptop as she installed a new modem today. But for the last four days, I have had to satisfy my appetite for Facebook, email, and all the other pointless things I waste my time on the computer with, at the public library. That wasn't exactly the best of situations. My mom is the head librarian at the library and I work as a substitute with 2 regular days a week (I know, I know. That screams nepotism, but truthfully, my mom didn't have much to do with me getting a job there), so Princess is quite familiar with the library. One would think that as the granddaughter of the librarian and the daughter of the library substitute, Princess would have the proper respect for the public library. Nope. Everytime, we go there, I try to teach her to stay in the children's area and play quietly while I accomplish what I came there to do, but when I am constantly chasing her down and leading her back into the children's area, it really cuts down on the quantity and quality of time I can spend on the internet. And of course, when she starts crying because I won't let her run wild, I can't just ignore her like I can at home when she is throwing a tantrum. The other library patrons start giving me dirty looks when Princess starts her whining and crying spiel for the fourth time in as many minutes and at that point, I usually beat a hasty retreat out the door, leaving my Facebook status midsentence.
I guess other than that, the week hasn't been too bad. The mold threw me for a loop and the not-working internet was an inconvenience. Besides those two things, the week's been pretty normal except for when Princess's favorite outdoor ball was discovered Wednesday afternoon lying beneath her slide. It had been the victim of a vicious deflating by a deranged raccoon or some other wild animal. She took it in stride however, and attempted to bounce it on the deck anyways, looking slighly puzzled when it just plopped on the ground looking like it had melted. But it is replaceable and I think we will recover easily from that last trauma.
Unsolicited Advice:
Uddercovers.com is having a promotional sale on nursing covers. Use the code charming2 at checkout and you get the nursing cover for the cost of shipping and handling which I believe, runs around $8.00. Pretty good deal for a $35 nursing cover!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Update On the Potty Training
A few posts ago, I wrote that we are beginning to potty train Princess. Here's an update on the process.
We are taking the relaxed approach to potty training since Princess is still so young. Periodically, I put her on the toilet and if she goes, she gets a few M&Ms. She prefers using a potty seat on the toilet to using the really cool potty chair I got her, but I'm okay with that because that means we don't have to carry a potty chair with us everywhere. 6 days after we started potty training, a lightbulb went on in her head and she realized that she could actually make herself go potty when she was on the toilet. This is great and means that she's aware of what she's supposed to be doing. Just last week, she also realized that going potty meant she got M&Ms. I had gotten her up from bed and she still had her pacifier in her mouth when I put her on the toilet. She peed in the toilet, handed me her pacifier and opened her mouth expectantly.
The next thing she needs to master in the potty training adventure is learning how to tell when she has to go and holding it until she can get to the toilet. No luck with this yet, but eventually I think it will just click and she'll figure it out. Several people told me that the reason she hadn't picked up on this yet was because I still had her in diapers instead of putting her in regular underwear. So I found some training underwear (training underwear is more expensive than MY underwear! Talk about ridiculous!) and made a big deal of showing them to her and telling her that she was a big girl because she could wear them instead of diapers. She seized the flowered underwear from my hand and vigorously smelled the flowers. I wrestled the underwear out of her hand and explained to her that yes, we do smell flowers, but we don't smell underwear. After ceremoniously tossing the diaper she was wearing while emphasizing that diapers are for babies, I put her in the underwear and let her loose to play. Princess played happily at the kitchen table while I washed dishes. Perhaps running water wasn't the best background noise. Before long, she came over to me asking if she could wash her hands as she always does when I have the water running. I picked her up and was rewarded with a wet shirt. She gave me a blank look as I told her how disappointed I was that she had gone potty in her big girl underwear. She didn't notice the wet underwear at all and wasn't fazed to be walking around that way. I figured that the first time wasn't that big of a deal and she'd get it. A day and 4 accidents later, I switched her back to diapers. She obviously didn't care if she was wet or not and I would usually realize she was wet only when I picked her up.
So for now, I will keep doing what I have been doing, but I don't have unrealistic expectations. We're laying the groundwork for the serious potty training which will probably occur after she turns two. If nothing else, I'm saving a few diapers this way.
Unsolicited Advice:
When starting potty training, it can be hard to convince your active child to stay put on the potty chair long enough for the potty training to work. I solved this problem by keeping a small basket in the bathroom stocked with special books and toys that Louise only gets to play with when she's sitting on the toilet.
We are taking the relaxed approach to potty training since Princess is still so young. Periodically, I put her on the toilet and if she goes, she gets a few M&Ms. She prefers using a potty seat on the toilet to using the really cool potty chair I got her, but I'm okay with that because that means we don't have to carry a potty chair with us everywhere. 6 days after we started potty training, a lightbulb went on in her head and she realized that she could actually make herself go potty when she was on the toilet. This is great and means that she's aware of what she's supposed to be doing. Just last week, she also realized that going potty meant she got M&Ms. I had gotten her up from bed and she still had her pacifier in her mouth when I put her on the toilet. She peed in the toilet, handed me her pacifier and opened her mouth expectantly.
The next thing she needs to master in the potty training adventure is learning how to tell when she has to go and holding it until she can get to the toilet. No luck with this yet, but eventually I think it will just click and she'll figure it out. Several people told me that the reason she hadn't picked up on this yet was because I still had her in diapers instead of putting her in regular underwear. So I found some training underwear (training underwear is more expensive than MY underwear! Talk about ridiculous!) and made a big deal of showing them to her and telling her that she was a big girl because she could wear them instead of diapers. She seized the flowered underwear from my hand and vigorously smelled the flowers. I wrestled the underwear out of her hand and explained to her that yes, we do smell flowers, but we don't smell underwear. After ceremoniously tossing the diaper she was wearing while emphasizing that diapers are for babies, I put her in the underwear and let her loose to play. Princess played happily at the kitchen table while I washed dishes. Perhaps running water wasn't the best background noise. Before long, she came over to me asking if she could wash her hands as she always does when I have the water running. I picked her up and was rewarded with a wet shirt. She gave me a blank look as I told her how disappointed I was that she had gone potty in her big girl underwear. She didn't notice the wet underwear at all and wasn't fazed to be walking around that way. I figured that the first time wasn't that big of a deal and she'd get it. A day and 4 accidents later, I switched her back to diapers. She obviously didn't care if she was wet or not and I would usually realize she was wet only when I picked her up.
So for now, I will keep doing what I have been doing, but I don't have unrealistic expectations. We're laying the groundwork for the serious potty training which will probably occur after she turns two. If nothing else, I'm saving a few diapers this way.
Unsolicited Advice:
When starting potty training, it can be hard to convince your active child to stay put on the potty chair long enough for the potty training to work. I solved this problem by keeping a small basket in the bathroom stocked with special books and toys that Louise only gets to play with when she's sitting on the toilet.
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