Cleanup in Aisle 2

Why so long between blog posts? Because Max's toddlerhood is kicking my ass.

So is karma. Remember how I said I'd never let my kids eat something in the grocery store without paying for it? No matter how well I try to adjust my errand schedule around his eating schedule, his tantrum-threatening blood sugar level often demands a tub of miniature peanut butter sandwich cookies.

In the 20 seconds it took me to write this much, Max snatched a votive candle from a drawer and drew wax lines on the bay window. When I let out an audible sigh as I was rubbing the scribbles off with my shirt sleeve, he succinctly said, "Oh, shit." So much for struggling not to swear in front of him.

Back to the grocery store. But not to the grocery store to which we usually go, and where Max usually gets to ride in one of those plastic cars attached to the shopping cart. We recently stopped at a local mom-n-pop to get some of my favorite deli treats.

Max erupted into the worst screaming fit he has ever had in public as soon as we got through the door. It unbelievably increased in intensity when I tried to wrestle him into the child seat of a regular cart. I got frustrated because I had zipped up the lining of his brand new winter parka and couldn't get it off of him so that he didn't have some sort of heat stroke while thrashing around in the cart.

Wait, I have to stop for a minute and tend to his absolute heartbroken sobbing that I won't let him play with my computer mouse.

And now I have to feel bad that when I tried to forcibly lead him away from my desk, he stumbled and fell and sat down hard right on my iPad that he was using to watch PBS. I said out loud, "Oh, shit!"

OK, back to the grocery store tantrum. It was so bad so fast that I just pulled him out of the cart and threw him back in the car before we even made it down one aisle. My superhumanly sweet mother-in-law, visiting from Arizona, was with us, and she generously offered to sit in the car with him while I shopped in peace.

I swear to God, only 83 seconds have passed since I started writing again. I had to stop to pull Max off of the kitchen table. See photographic evidence. And no, he didn't want those boxes of toys. He's looking for my new ceramic wine bottle coaster dish and stopper. He likes to swirl the stopper around in the dish and listen to the clink-clink-clink. I had it on the table only once, for a party on Sunday, but he knows he might score some salt shakers or place mats or something else if he gets up there. He has zero interest in the toys meant for him.

And while writing that paragraph, I had to yell at him for using a similar box of toys as a stepping stool on the bay window bench in an attempt to flip open the safety locks on the side windows that help keep robbers out and children in.

Where the hell was I? Oh yeah, the grocery store. But not the right grocery store. Thank goodness I remembered to leave the car running with the heat on. My mother-in-law would not have complained, but she would have been a tiny little icicle by the time I got my potato salad and sandwich spread. My toddler fell asleep, one whole hour before his usual nap time.

I've left and come back again. Max said he wanted peaches for a snack. While serving him the last container, I realize we have to go to the grocery store and get more.

I don't get to throw a tantrum. I don't get to melt down and have someone feed me and put me down for a nap. I don't have a choice that it's freaking snowing again and I would have to bundle up Max so much that he might not fit in his car seat on our trip to the grocery store.

Max is a smart, sweet, lovey-dovey boy that has a limitless need for my attention and efforts. I do better when I write more, but I haven't had the chance to blog in almost a year. I'm not as good as a mom when I don't process it, and I can process only the reality. My reality seemed too stressful, or it seemed too unseemly to complain or make Max out to be a terrible kid when he's really just a typical 2 1/2-year-old boy.

But there's no explaining to him that I will have more time to give him attention if he would just simply let me have a little time to myself. I end up feeling like I'm at this computer all day because the constant interruptions stretch out the work of five minutes to five hours.

I feel like a failure. I feel like I should be more grateful that he has energy, that he is inquisitive and curious, that he wants my hugs and kisses and tickles and smiles to make everything right in his world.

There, I've said it. I've written it. I feel it sliding off and slipping away from me, returning some buoyancy and confidence to spend the rest of today tending to my toddler's needs.

Which is good timing, because I'm pretty sure he's standing there pooping his pants.

Tower of Babble Babble Babble

Max is 20 months old and on the cusp of a vocabulary explosion. I can feel it. I thought it might be good to record what words he can say now.

This is not bragging. This is me being completely obsessed with language and lists. (OK, maybe a little bragging.)

Of course, only a few of the words below are articulated as clearly as you and I might say them. Max can't really make the "L" sound at the end of "ball," but we all know he is saying "ball" when he is saying "baaa-uh." (The fact that he is usually carrying his big orange bouncy ball is a pretty good clue.)

A few words come out "baaa-uh," but if you listen carefully to inflection you can tell whether he is saying "ball," "bottle" or "block." Other words don't sound anything like the real word -- he says "beeps" for "grapes" -- but we know what he means and that counts as a word in my book. That is what language is for, after all. Communication.

It is hilarious how he says "triangle" and "rectangle." There are at least six extra syllables in there, but he gets an "A" for effort.

Speaking of "A," I'll also note that he is beginning to correctly identify and say some letters and numbers, including: A, B, D, E, O, R, T, 2, 8 and 9.

All of these words for the past several months, and only a few days ago did Max finally call his parents Mama and Dada. His first word ever was "Grandpa," starting out as "Papa" but moving fairly quickly to "Gam-pa." My mother is beside herself that he still hasn't called her "Woo" yet. (That's another story how she got that moniker.) Max learned both "Brother" and "Gabe" (which comes out "Ge-eee") but still no "Woo."

Here's the bragging part. All of the words listed below are what Max says in context or in correct identification. He can speak a lot more words, often just repeating what someone else is saying, but this list is really about what he can say about the things he knows.

Names
Dada
Mama
Brother
Gabe
Grandpa
Baby (any little baby he sees)

Animals
dog
cat
pig
moo moo (for "cow")
bird
duck
horse
mouse
goat
bear
lion
hippo
bug
dinosaur

At the Table
cup
spoon
fork (comes out "bork," too cute)
knife
grapes ("beeps")
cookie
cracker
pouch (those squirty puree things)
bottle
cheese
banana
carrot
peas
corn
cake

Body
hair
ear
eye
nose
teeth
mouth
toe
head
pee pee (fear not, I will teach him anatomical words)

Toys/Characters
ball
block
boat
map (from "Dora the Explorer")
backpack (ditto)
Thomas (as in the Tank Engine)
Blue's Clues
Bot (from "Team Umizoomi")
Elmo
Bubble Guppies (he hits all of the syllables, but not exactly in the right order)
Bubble Puppy ("Bup Pup")
SpongeBob ("Bob Bob" -- and thanks, Gabe, for the early exposure)

His World
car
truck
crane
choo choo (for "train")
book
bath
sock
shoe
hat
tissue (one of my favorites, and one of his most clearly articulated)
bubble
balloon
pumpkin
toothbrush (this one comes and goes, it was one of his first words, but he doesn't say it much now)
light
door
bink ("pacifier")
snow
sky
moon
sun
star (in the astronomical and geometrical sense)
triangle
rectangle
oval
circle
box

Colors
blue
green
purple
orange
black
pink
red

Other
bye bye
hi
hello
go
uh-oh
no
thank you
don't
all done
up
down
big
small
apart
together
pop
pat
back
cold
hot
march
amen (although I think even at church he thinks we're all saying "Oh, man!" like Swiper the Fox on "Dora")

And then one of my favorite things he says, in a way, is the fake snore for "sleep." "Acgghh-shooo, acgghh-shoo, acgghh-shoo ..."

The Sound of Music

"The Sound of Music" is kind of sacred cow in our house, but one of Max's favorite lullabies is one that I wrote to the tune of "Edelweiss."

You may remember that I do this a lot. I composed a new version of "I See the Moon" to connect our baby to his daddy when he is out to sea, coming up with it long before I was even pregnant. When Max turned into such a nursing fanatic, I was moved to write "No Sleep till Boobie," an homage to the Beastie Boys.

This new one gives a shout-out to all of the folks who love him. We call Gabe "Brother" a lot, Woo is my mother, and Poppy is Dan's mother's beloved. I have to be careful to sing this when Max is really tired. He loves to say "Grandpa" and will pull out his pacifier and say, "Paaaaaa," waiting for me to repeat the verses so he can do it again.

Maybe I write these lullabies just because I can't remember the real lyrics to anything. But I like to think it's something clever and sweet. Hopefully, personalized songs will make Max remember that his mother really could be kind to him when every other thing about trying to get him to sleep sucks donkey balls.

And so, here's our lovely rocking chair song, "Baby Boy" (imagine Christopher Plummer crooning it, drawing out all of the vowel sounds):

"Baby Boy"

Baby boy, baby boy
Boy, does your mommy love you
Baby boy, baby boy
Boy, your daddy loves you too

Grandma, Poppy
Your aunts and uncles
Brother, Woo and Grandpa

Baby boy, baby boy
Boy, your family loves you

'We Deserve to See a Range'

I cried for three days when I found out I was going to have another boy. Now I can't imagine my life without Max in it, but boy oh boy did I want a girl.

I love the idea of seeing what kind of mother of a daughter I'd be after being the daughter of my mother. I also love the hair bows and the frilly dresses, the dolls and the sparkles, the girly girl stuff in all of its forms.

But I know there are varied, wonderful dimensions to being a girl. I happen to have some of them. A pink princess castle isn't the only part. Hell, it doesn't need to be a part at all.

Frankly, castles should be gray. A little reality doesn't hurt any girl. Boys get castle sets that resemble real stone, so why does a girl's castle toy have to be pink? It's more of the same conspiracy to label girls as the "weaker" sex that is stamped right on their diapers. (See "The Cheese Stands Alone" blog post.)

Toy company GoldieBlox, which makes interactive books and games, is doing its very best to combat this nonsense and encourage girls to play with science and engineering concepts. (See Slate.com article.) Even better, it set a commercial of girls using all of that pink plastic crap as the world's biggest Mousetrap game to a Beastie Boys tune. I just so happened to have a little love affair with them when I was growing up.

That's not very pink and frilly at all. But they did inspire an awesome lullaby, "No Sleep till Boobie." (See "Max's Anthem" blog post.)

Operation Save Classic Games

At least most retailers restrained themselves until the clock struck midnight on Halloween, but the beginning of this month unleashed the full Christmas marketing torrent.

I love, love, love Christmas. I look forward to decorating my house all year, but I don't do it until after Thanksgiving. That holiday deserves its own feast and festivities.

I do my best to avoid the rampant commercialism that heralds the coming of the prince of peace. (No, the irony is not lost on me.) But I'm not always quick enough to mute the commercials between the few TV programs my toddler watches.

There are about four blog posts in this introduction alone, and I'll probably get to all of them at some point. What I want to write about today is one of the toys I heard advertised in those commercials.

Hasbro was hocking its games, including Operation. I about needed one myself when the announcer happily proclaimed that the pieces were "now easier to remove!!!"

What the hell? Isn't that the absolute point of this game?

My grandmother had the classic version, preserved since it first came out in the 1960s. We played with it constantly as kids, jumping every time our little metal tweezers made contact with the exposed metal border of the various anatomical parts the player is to remove.

There probably was a significant electrocution risk, but we played it like it was designed to be played: tough.

Operation back then taught us to be careful, patient and persevering. Operation today will teach kids that everything is easy and handed to them on a silver platter.

And we wonder why kids can be such pains in the Adam's apple.

The piece that desperately needs to be removed from parents' brains is that unfortunate desire to make things easier for their children. That won't make an experience more enjoyable. It just will heighten children's disappointment in all things and will erode their self-confidence and creativity. And yet Hasbro has caved to get their money.

Childhood isn't complete without a little zap now and again.