Category: Maddux

This week, I was unexpectedly plunged into a world without Mommy. One day you’re at the library, singing and dancing with your mom, and at the gym’s daycare, playing with your little friends and knowing that your mother will be back in no more than 90 minutes, ready for a full day of book-reading, yogurt-dispensing and game-playing with you. The next, you’re rudely awakened by your crazed mother knocking things off shelves as she packs for the hospital, flashing lights outside your bedroom window, and the sight of your mommy being hauled off on a stretcher by serious, busy-looking men, waving bye-bye with an obviously fake smile.

Friday, Nov. 10

Still in the throes of cutting my canines (don’t you think that is bad enough?), I was totally blindsided in the wee hours of Friday by my mommy’s sudden hospitalization. Seven hours before, I’d capped a day of story requests and furniture jumping with a lasagna dinner and a bubble bath with a pink fizzie (a special treat and only my second fizzie ever!) and been put gently and sweetly to bed by Mommy and Daddy as happens every night. Those silly parents of mine hadn’t yet talked to me about the day Mommy would go to the hospital, stay for a while, and return with my new brother. (Mommy’s note: With two months to go, it seemed silly to get her stressed out over something so distantly removed from her current itinerary). And there I was, with no warning at all, racing to the hospital with Daddy and seeing my mom in a ridiculous blue gown which my fashionable mother would never wear and hooked up to IVs and monitors.

When Daddy and I left the hospital around 3:30 a.m., I was expecting Mommy to leave with us. And when we got home, I wondered where she was. After all, the longest waking time she has spent away from me has been four or five hours, and that has always been in the daytime with Daddy taking me on fun outings or in the evening with Nana rubbing my back while I fall asleep after a proper goodbye to Mommy and Daddy and some fun and games with Nana.

When Daddy took me home, it was 4:30 a.m. before I was in bed. It was 6 when I woke up, and there was no going back to sleep. It was “Mama, mama, mama” all morning. And why wouldn’t it be? Daddy gets up with me many mornings, but at some point, Mommy gets up and takes me to the gym or the library or playgroup or swimming class (with Daddy on the sidelines taking pictures, of course!). And Friday morning, I didn’t see Mommy until after noon, and it was in a crowded ultrasound room. Then Mommy got into a large and odd-looking stroller and was pushed around in it. Mama seemed very excited about the stroller, but I wasn’t buying it. To top it off, instead of going home and reading me stories, Mommy was delivered into a strange room, where she got into bed (what’s up with that? Mommies don’t sleep!) and gingerly held me in her lap, keeping my inquisitive hands away from her very fascinating IV site.

By our second visit later in the day, I wanted nothing to do with my mommy. I couldn’t bear to look into the face of the mommy who abandoned me, and didn’t want kisses, hugs or snuggles. Twice I had come to this place and seen Mommy lying around hooked up to tubes. Twice I had hoped for Mommy to come home and read “Rainbow Fish” to me, ad nauseam, and sing the bouncing rhymes we’d learned at the library. And twice Mommy had kissed me goodbye and remained in the hospital instead of being a good mommy and coming home to take care of me in the manner to which I have become accustomed.

Daddy put me to bed at 9:30, but not before I pooped in the tub. Daddy doesn’t have a strong tummy like Mommy does, and I’m banking on this. It will be only a matter of time before my big, strong (but weak-stomached and sleep-needing) daddy is all but forced to drag my wayward mommy back home to tend to my every need. After all, that tub isn’t going to clean itself, and I’m gonna need a bath again soon.

Saturday, Nov. 11

Despite my late bedtime yesterday, I woke at six and did not nap. Daddy must be punished too, after all, as I suspect he is partly responsible for this whole pregnancy situation. We brought Mommy a book, but I was still mad at her, so I spent my time trying to hide under the interesting mechanical beds and running out into the hallway to investigate the crying babies. After we visited Mommy and I refused to give her any hugs or kisses, Daddy brought me to my friend Delaney’s house. Since Delaney and her mommy had nothing to do with my mommy’s betrayal of me, I behaved very nicely except for one incident where Delaney pushed me and I smacked her a good one. But when we dropped by Mommy’s new home that night, I told Mommy that I played nicely with Delaney and had a good time, so she’s none the wiser. No time-out for me! Ha! (Mommy’s note: Delaney’s mommy now has permission to give time-outs for violence.)

I grudgingly gave Mommy a sweet kiss before Daddy and I left her tonight, but only because she bounced me and sang fun songs we learned at the library, and I suspected she did it against doctor’s orders. However, I was still mad at her and Daddy. I noticed Daddy had accidentally brought home the cell phone instead of leaving it for Mommy, so I asked for Mommy all night knowing she didn’t have a phone in her room. I’m certain if I make life miserable enough for Daddy, he will make Mommy move back in with us. Daddy put me in bed at 9, and I cried until 10.

Sunday, Nov. 12

I woke at 6 again. This is getting to be exhausting, but I’ve outlasted Mommy before, so I know I can outlast Daddy. I had the sniffles, but it was worth it. My crazy hours have pushed my sleepless Daddy into catching the flu. Since he was running a fever and had every respiratory symptom in the book, I figured that a little mischief might be just the thing he needed to motivate him to drag Mommy home by the hair and make her serve me. So I climbed in the drawers of the entertainment unit, stuck my hands in the VCR and hid in the closet, throwing shoes willy-nilly.

Unfortunately, Daddy apparently has tricks of his own. He took the knobs off the closet and drawers and now that stupid living room is nearly completely me-proof. Now all that’s left to do is jump from one item of furniture to another, and Mommy and Daddy are used to me doing this and don’t have a real problem with it … so where’s the fun in that? Daddy hasn’t given me another bath, so I’m saving my poop. I’ll get my mommy back home yet if I have to drive Daddy crazy in the trying.

Today, I felt kind of sorry for her since she seemed to genuinely miss me. I’m still not entirely convinced that she’s not just doing this to be mean to me, and I am worried that she will never come home and take care of me again, but I gave her some snuggles and blew kisses anyway. I even sat on her lap and enjoyed some more bounces and rhymes and songs. Well, until Daddy left to get my diaper bag. I am so used to Daddy taking care of me that I started to worry when he didn’t come right back. Let’s face it, Mommy is pretty useless lying in bed with tubes in her, and her new apartment is boring. Plus, Daddy has been reading my stories, and he even makes the dolphin noises in “Rainbow Fish” like Mommy does. Between that and Mommy abandoning me, Mommy and Daddy are just about even in terms of my wanting to be cared for by them. But I have to say, Mommy did my diaper change this afternoon and she’s just so much better at it than Daddy. I guess I’d better keep kicking and trying to get up and crawl away so he can get good at it like Mommy did. Daddy strolled me out of Mommy’s new apartment and I didn’t look back. I’ve almost given up on getting Mommy back home. I will keep working on Daddy, of course, but I miss Mommy so much that it’s hard for me to punish her.

Daddy, on the other hand, is nearly broken. Tonight, I overheard him call Mommy and say he couldn’t take it anymore and she needed to call Delaney’s mommy again and that he wanted me to go to Delaney’s as early in the morning as possible and be gone as long as I could. Tomorrow, I get to go to Delaney’s at 8 and have a fun day with my friend. With any luck, her mommy will sit me on the counter and put my hair in two ponytails again. I should learn how to talk better so I can tell Mommy that Delaney’s mom makes better ponytails than she does. It’s true. Anyway, I suspect Daddy is planning to use my playdate as part of some nefarious plan to catch up on his sleep so that he can deal with my campaign of terror. I don’t think he understands who he is dealing with.

Tonight, Daddy gave me a dose and a half of Benadryl per the pharmacist’s instruction. It’s supposed to make me drowsy so I won’t stay up all night and wake at unholy hours of the morning. Just to show Daddy who’s boss around here, I screamed for an hour and 20 minutes in my crib. He called Mommy, and it’s a good thing because I was ready to pass out after all that Benadryl. I fell asleep while they were on the phone, but not before driving Daddy to the brink of insanity and causing Mommy great distress at the situation. Hopefully, she’ll come to her senses and be home and ready to feed me breakfast by 6 a.m. tomorrow.

Monday, Nov. 13

I woke up bright and early again at 4:30 this morning. Unfortunately, when the door opened, it was just Daddy. I think my plan is working pretty well though, because he seemed barely human today.

Daddy brought me to Delaney’s house again. All this staying up late, rising early and not napping was really getting to me, so I had an hour of quiet time in the morning on Delaney’s couch, and then a nice nap in the afternoon. I hope Delaney’s mommy doesn’t tell Daddy and Mommy, because then they’ll be even worse with the nap enforcement. I’m sure she’s on my side, though, because I am sweet and play nicely when I’m there!

About an hour from bedtime, Daddy showed up. And you’ll never guess who came into the house behind Daddy. Mommy!!! I finally did it! Since she wasn’t wearing that ugly dress or hooked up to any machines, I gave her a nice hug (after a thorough inspection, of course). I am definitely not letting Mommy out of my sight ever again.

Wednesday, Nov. 14

It has been so nice having Mommy back!!! I am sleeping through the night and taking all my naps and generally being the sweetest little girl in the world. Mommy and Daddy haven’t had it so well in several months. I have been in the best mood EVER, now that my precious Mommy is back to serve me! I have noticed that she doesn’t pick me up and has Daddy do a lot of things, but I am too glad to have her back to take much advantage of it. (Sure, I don’t take her threats of time-outs seriously anymore because I know she’s not going to move from that couch, but did you know that daddies can give time-outs too? I sure didn’t! But I’m only doing slightly naughty stuff to test my boundaries. I hardly ever hit or kick her in the tummy anymore!)

I have been giving Mommy and the baby extra kisses the last few days, too, so that she never goes away again. It was really hard living without proper baths, cream-cheese-and-honey sandwiches, and the silly songs we sing at library toddler time. I know that Mommy is bored lying there on the couch instead of taking me to the gym or vacuuming with me in the backpack, so I’ve been keeping her busy reading me all my favorite stories and drawing pictures of dolphins and kittycats for me on the Magnadoodle.

And just to reward my dear prodigal Mommy for coming home, I even pooped on the potty last night after my bath. Am I a good toddler or what? Mommy will never, ever leave me again! (Except, she says, to have the baby. But that had better not require a four-day hospital stay — or else!)

And here is a picture of me with my unfashionably dressed Mommy, before I got her to move out of her apartment. Notice how I am totally giving her the cold shoulder! Kids, this is exactly how you should treat your mommy if she abandons you. It’s definitely a tough-love approach — but it works!

The moment every mother waits for has finally arrived. (Well, not my mother, since she didn’t have to wait for it with me!) No, silly, not university graduation, although we will shouting it from the rooftops and dancing in the street when that day comes. The day when a mommy is first able to corral those fine baby hairs into her daughter’s very first ponytails.

Maddi, unlike yours truly, was not blessed with a full head of hair at birth. For the first many months of her life, she bore a striking resemblance to the old man from the Monopoly game (and occasionally to the albino mouse of “Pinky and the Brain”). Slowly but surely, however, our little daughter has managed to grow herself a nice — if spotty — head of hair. It went from baby mohawk to baby mullet almost overnight, and in the two months since we cut it, it’s already gotten shaggy again (except on the sides, which remain mysteriously baldish).

My first attempts at twisting her hair into wee ponytails were less than successful, as the first ponytail came out before the second was completed. However, through trial and error and a hint from a mom in Maddi’s playgroup, I perfected the process by twisting the elastic a few extra times and voila! We have ponytails!

Now, on mornings when I have time before the gym, Maddi sits patiently on the bathroom counter for her hairdressing appointment, playing with faucets and hairbrushes and toothpaste and contact lens cases and scissors I have foolishly left where I thought she couldn’t reach them. I must say that the ponytails make her neat, tidy and very girly-girly. And, for reasons I will never know but certainly won’t question, she actually enjoys having me tug and yank and torture her strands with elastic bands as I force her hair into unnaturally spiky little “bunny ears” or a single “alien antenna.” Yes, I’m not sure why, but there is no styling her hair into anything non-spiky unless it’s sopping wet. It’s like Alfalfa’s cowlick — you can’t keep a good ‘do down! Luckily, she looks adorable in pretty much any coiffure, so “bunny ears” will suit her just fine for now.

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In other news, just as I was beginning to consider having our once-loquacious little one evaluated for a hearing or autistic spectrum disorder, Maddi regained all the vocabulary words that had previously been rejected for “ball.” Not only that, but in the past week or so, she’s come up with all kinds of new words, some with hardly any exposure beforehand, and put together a few new sentences. New words include “shoes,” “cheese,” “yogurt” (or ghoo-gut, as she calls it), “doodle” (for her Magnadoodle), “snow,” “juice,” “Mum-Mum” (a brand of baby crackers) and isolated but fairly competent attempts at “granola” and “Newton” (the fig cookie, not the mathematician and physicist). During one of the rare days when I was able to read more than a few paragraphs at a time, I was thumbing through “What to Expect in the Toddler Years” and came upon a portion stating that big life changes (such as our recent move) can contribute to speech regressions. Woulda been nice to know …

She also has — after a mere eight months or so — taken to kissing people and things other than her stuffed kitten. Maddi will now pucker up for dolls, parents and caregivers, her pet pumpkin, and even a large and, quite frankly, terrifying sea snail she saw on the television screen while we were watching “Blue Planet” while I vegetated and let vegetate during my legendary sinus infection last week. (Don’t worry, she doesn’t get to watch TV unless I am practically on my deathbed!)
And here, for your viewing pleasure, are some recent pics of our 17-and-a-half-month-old cutie:

Maddi’s had a busy month. She’s started two classes, figured out how to scale any item of furniture (and nonfurniture) in the house, and had her very first ear infection. We’ll start with the ear infection.

Since she is making an early entree into what is (mistakenly) called the Terrible Twos, we missed a few of the symptoms of her infection — crankiness, whininess, poor appetite and sleeping problems. Of course, these have all been symptoms of her Terrible Twos as well, and she didn’t display any “classic” symptoms like ear-pulling or screaming, so there wasn’t much difference between “happy” Maddi and ear-infection Maddi. That is, until our normally on-schedule little girl stayed up all night, wailing every time we put her back in the crib.

We took her to the doctor the next day and sure enough, at the ripe old age of 17 months, Maddi had finally gotten the ear infection we’d obsessively checked for her entire life and yet somehow missed when it actually happened. Not only did she have an infection, Maddi had a fairly severe double ear infection.

Apparently there has been a virus going around town and a lot of kids have been going into the clinic with ear infections lately, so we kept Maddi home from daycare and swimming for the weekend and made sure she got every drop of her prescribed antibiotics (which of course aren’t usually recommended for mild ear infections, but our poor little girl’s ears were in pretty serious shape by the time we took her in). Sure enough, four days later, her eardrums were healthy and pink again and Maddi was back to her slightly less-crabby self.

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In other news, Maddi is back in swimming class, and enjoying it immensely. She was a little wary at first, having entered her clingy stage, but after a few classes she has become the most enthusiastic participant in the opening round of “Wheels on the Bus” and the part where all the babies make big splashes. Likewise, toddler time at the library was a scary experience last week (until a rousing rendition of “Pop Goes the Weasel” 15 minutes in got her interested) and yet this week, our wee exhibitionist stood in the middle of the story circle and danced maniacally to “I’m a Little Teapot” (let’s remember that the other babies were all sitting in their mommies’ laps).

And now, the moment you have all been waiting for:

As usual, Maddi has had a busy couple of weeks. She is now in the process of cutting her canines and has also had a cold for the past week, which means that Mommy and Daddy have had a busy couple of weeks as well. The kind of busy that requires lots of Starbucks and a good couple hours of trying to wind down before one can fall asleep.

Although the toilet was initially the one place where we could expect Maddi to sit still for more than 10 seconds, it has now become a launching pad for the Amazing Naked Baby Race, in which Maddi pretends to try to make poopoo, distracts Mommy by pointing to her Play-Doh or her ball, and then, while Mommy’s back is turned to retrieve the potty toy, Maddi flees from the room naked from the waist down and proceeds to run through the house at top speed until her eventual retrieval and diapering. She has also decided she needs a diaper change each and every time she leaks the tiniest amount of peepee, which means we would have to quadruple our diaper bill if we gave in to this demand. If it weren’t for her dogged determination to immediately dispose of any poop that makes its way into her diaper, we would issue a pair of training pants, but we’re big chickens. Chickens with white carpets and furniture who already pay enough on laundry detergent for her bed linens without providing even easier access to Poo-casso’s favorite artistic medium.
Speaking of things that drive fear into the heart of easily-disgusted parents, our wee one’s stripping skills have transcended the sleeper (including the backwards sleeper) and now extend to the diaper. It’s become a near-daily occurrence to wake up, enter her room, and behold a completely naked Maddi beaming proudly in her crib. Luckily she’s been holding her bowels a bit better since the inception of potty training, although that didn’t stop her from obliterating her crib thrice in 24 hours earlier in the week. She can also dress herself somewhat too. Our little girl can get her pants halfway on, her shoes completely on (but not usually fastened) and has managed to pull her cotton shorts over her head (leg-hole and all, right around the neck, which means no more shorts in the crib!). Currently, she’s working on shirts, although getting the arms on straight has been a challenge and I’ve found her in the crib with the shirt half-twisted so that her arms are both in the sleeves, but one sleeve is inside-out.

And the streaking and stripping are only the tip of the iceberg where Maddi Mischief is concerned. The tantrums continue, although thankfully they mostly occur at home. Lately, she has also figured out how to climb into chairs and onto tables, and is thisclose to conquering our overstuffed leather sofa and attacking the cat from a new front. Have I mentioned the cat attacks? Our once-gentle daughter has decided that SHE, not the cat, will declare when petting time is over. It began with a little fur-pulling when the cat tired of being petted. The cat ran faster, so Maddi grabbed the nearest and most convenient “handle” — Deva’s tail. Now, even when the cat is sitting still, Maddi has decided the cat’s tail is the optimal way to draw her pet to her rather than having to exert the energy it takes to go to the cat. This method, while absolutely prohibited, is better than her first cat-retrieval solution, which entailed a full-body tackle of our hapless feline when the kitty least suspected it. Now, with her nascent furniture-scaling skills, I am afraid Maddi will try a flying tackle from the sofa and sail right through the window where Deva likes to sun herself.

Lucky for us (and Maddi, who daily risks being offered in a classified ad as “free to good home”), it’s not all nude footraces, poo-painting, tantrums and kitty torture. Our little toddler is also becoming quite the chatterbox, experimenting with her own twist on the English language that I like to call Maddi-ese. Much of it consists of very expressive, foreign-sounding babble. She has some words she’s made up because saying them is too much trouble; hence Play-Doh has become “Buh-paah” (although she does know what it’s actually called and occasionally insists, “Pay-Did,” when I pretend not to know what “buh-paah” is) and kitty-cat is often “tick-tick.”

As always, when she uses actual words, a significant percentage of her language is cat-related. For instance, her first four-word sentence, uttered three or four weeks ago (according to me, although Chris is skeptical) was “Wez dat key-cat?” (Where’s that kitty-cat?”). Often I will hear her babbling nonsensically in her realistic-sounding toddler language and pick up phrases like “get da ball” or “tsuh-duh buh-buh” (cheddar bunnies) from among the gibberish — and a good third of the time, the words I hear are cat-related. “Good kit-kit” or “hee, key-cat” when she’s trying to coax Deva out from behind the sofa; “No, key-cat!” when the cat races from the room in fear for her life; “Babble babble blablabla TIKTIK babble babble!” as she runs chasing after the poor kitty.

However, she does come up with the occasional non-cat-related utterance. The other day, I removed from her grasp a forbidden object (I forget what; there are so many!) and replaced it with something appropriate, and Chris heard her sob in between shrieks, “I wanted that one!”

For awhile after we moved into our new house with its fabulous backyard and attendant bouncy balls, everything was “ball,” but the novelty has worn off and she is back to calling flowers “fowvers” again, thank goodness. Occasionally I have to remind her to stop saying “ball,” but at least her vocabulary is coming back.

Other than streaking, stripping, painting, climbing, attempted kittycide and coming up with new phrases and her own bizarre jargoning, not much is new. I’m sure in a few weeks, we’ll have lots more interesting Maddi stories to share.

In the meanwhile, coming soon: Cute pics of our 16.5-month-old.

I really thought that when the time came for Maddi’s first haircut, I would shed at least one tear. But I’ve never been one to get sentimental about parting with my own locks, and I guess it carries over to my little girl as well. Just as I get antsy for a haircut when my tresses start looking long and unkempt, Maddi’s “baby mullet,” as we called it, was really starting to bug me. On Tuesday, I drove her down to our local children’s salon and I hate to say it, but my excited demeanor was not just for Maddi’s benefit. I hope that my failure to weep over her first haircut does not make me a bad mommy, but I looked forward to her new ‘do as much as I look forward to appointments with my own stylist.

Of course, one can’t expect a girl of 15-and-three-quarters months to sit patiently in a beautician’s chair while a hairdresser labors meticulously over every strand. That’s why we went to a salon where the clientele are seated on playful ducks or in pink-and-purple Jeeps while the world’s fastest scissors go to work. Rather than winding down pre-haircut with a drink and a magazine, this particular establishment induces relaxation by offering a ballroom where one can release all of one’s pent-up toddler energy before being forced to sit still for that arduous 10 minutes in the chair. Did I mention that we were also treated to “Shark Tale” on a screen conveniently placed in front of Maddi’s Jeep?

Yes, Maddi was allowed to pick her own haircutting station and the Jeep won hands-down, as our wee one is still fascinated by all things wheeled and/or pink. It was quite the hit, although I’m not sure the hairdresser found it helpful when Maddi stood on the seat and began dancing during her haircut. At that moment, I was very happy indeed that I had not brought her in to my regular stylist.

Other than the outbreak of dance fever, Maddi was a perfect angel during her haircut and enjoyed “driving” the Jeep even though, to her dismay, the horn was not operational. She was so well-behaved, in fact, that she received a $3 discount on her cut because most babies take a bit longer (although this was also partly owing to the fact that she didn’t have much hair to take off).

Perhaps if her hair had been butchered, I would have felt sad, but instead I have spent the past several days admiring her cute new baby bob. She looks so much more polished now! It takes a few months off her face, but Chris says that’s a good thing since I’m always complaining about her getting too old too quickly.

And here, for your viewing enjoyment, are some pics of Maddi’s very first haircut!

Before

Ready to cut!

First snip

After

Perhaps it was her tireless Riverdance rehearsals in utero. Or maybe it was the inspiration provided in May (which should be ancient history) by her cousin Becca’s dance recital. What we do know is that Maddi is quite the little dancer, and she didn’t pick it up from Chris or me. Not that we’re terrible dancers, mind you, but it’s not like we bust a move around the house. Ever.

She dances when her toy farm chimes out the notes to “Old MacDonald.” She dances when she hears the word “dance.” And today at the Festival of the Tomato, after I put her down because she was wiggling like a maniac, she took her act on the road.

The live band was playing an Irish folk song and I guess Maddi felt inspired to show off her smooth moves. As soon as her feet hit the ground, our wee girl was burning up the grass! Nobody knows where she learned to shimmy and move her shoulders like that, but the little one can sure get down! This video was actually her lackluster “encore performance” — the original was performed with much more enthusiasm and hip-shaking (and no, Grandma and Grandpa, we did not teach the baby to wiggle her bottom and she couldn’t have gotten it from TV because she’s not allowed to watch it; she probably thinks she invented the move).

Here’s our almost-16-month-old boogying her heart out:

The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Despite her very early interest in all things potty, our original plan was to wait until Maddi was 2 to start potty training. This would allow her potty training to be unhindered by stressful events such as a move, or the inability to competently remove her pants and underwear and sit (she still hasn’t quite figured out how to back into a chair). But Maddi had other plans.

My hypothesis on her finger-painting hobby has always been that she does not like being in dirty diapers and was trying to get the poop far, far away from her bottom. However, I talked to Maddi ad nauseam about how we don’t take the poo-poo out of our diapers, and after about 50-odd such post-painting discussions, she finally acquiesced and simply played with her toys when she was done with her morning poop. But for the past three days, she has been removing every stitch of clothing by the time I enter the bedroom, and she has very nearly removed her diaper before my eyes a time or two, so I knew it was but a matter of time before she took off her diaper in the crib and made a mess. (Technically, in Maddi’s head, this would be perfectly allowable since she is not taking poop out of her diaper!)

And today, far, far before I was ready for this doomsday scenario, it happened. My bleary eyes were greeted by a completely naked toddler covered literally from head to toe in poop. I won’t even describe how literally.

OK, I lied. Misery loves company and I would just like to share with you all that I pulled a prune-size clump out of her hair and washed poop out from between her fingers and toes. I also removed no fewer than five midsize pellets from the floor (along with a lump the size of a small rodent and many small “crumbs”), shook yet more pellets and another, slightly smaller lump out of the sheets, de-doodooed and disinfected the walls and the crib, laundered (and extensively Spray N Washed and OxiCleaned) a sleeper, a zip-top sheet, the bottom of said zip-top sheet, the mattress protector (might I add that the mattress protector indicated she had taken a nice little pee with her diaper off, which I initially missed because of the mass casualties), the freaking dust ruffle and no fewer than three unfortunate stuffed toys. Oh, and bathed aforementioned head-to-toe-poopy tot, and then de-poopified and disinfected the tub. There, I feel much better having listed all that, because it’s not like many people know what all is involved in cleaning up these kinds of messes and I feel kind of alone in my misery here. Just be glad I don’t detail it for you every time it happens!

The above, by the way, was in lieu of my relaxing gym appointment, for which I was 40 minutes late. By the time I got there, the day care girl had given up and gone home. I drove the 15 minutes back to the house, just about in tears, and took a hasty shower in a bathroom still reeking of Maddi’s latest masterpiece.

Today’s little incident did not precipitate our decision to buy Maddi a potty, as I had planned to buy one after the gym appointment anyway, but it certainly illustrated Maddi’s readiness to be done with diapers once and for all. I noticed that most of the big clumps had been thrown on the floor, and I think my hypothesis has been proven. Maddi does not want poop anywhere near her (although the unfortunate result of her removing it from her presence is that it gets on her hands and, thereby, everywhere else).

Maddi has also been getting angry when I go to the bathroom, perhaps because she feels excluded. Sure, I let her sit on the toilet occasionally, but we’ve been promising her a little potty of her own “when you’re a big girl” for many weeks now. Apparently she thinks she is a big girl and that she should be using the toilet as well.

We headed down to Sweet Peas, a local purveyor of fine baby goods, and I let her choose from among four different colors of Baby Bjorn potties (the toilet I had previously decided on after much research; this is the only toilet sold at that store, so although she was “picking out a potty herself,” any choice was the right choice!). She wavered at first, but settled on a blue potty. Then we went to the bookstore, where we chose a book about using the toilet. We took the potty home and she managed to pee in it twice between 4:30 and 6 p.m. She was so delighted to finally be flushing her own pee-pee goodbye instead of Mommy’s!

In fact, Maddi was a happy little camper all evening, insisting on sitting on her potty for 20 minutes at a time until she went (sitting still for 20 seconds is quite a feat ordinarily, let alone 20 minutes) and carrying her potty around lovingly. (Unfortunately, she tried to do this with one shoe on and one off, tripped and split her little lip; thus necessitating her first ice-cream sandwich, as that was the only way we could keep anything cold against her mouth long enough to stop the swelling). She was happy as could be to sit on that pot with the Play-Doh she’s allowed to use only while on the potty, plopping it in and out of the can and pausing every once in awhile to grab a piece of toilet paper and haphazardly “wipe” her posterior.

We’re not sure how quickly the potty training will go, since supposedly children who start before 18 months of age take longer to train, but it’s better than the alternative. Maddi seems very happy to have her own potty, as she’s been waiting for this moment for what probably feels to her like years, and we’re happy that she is so enthusiastic about it. We’d have been just as happy if she’d wanted to wait until we were prepared for such a time-consuming undertaking, but it’s not as if disinfecting an entire room and an entire toddler (and then the bathtub) isn’t time-consuming either.

Coming soon: Pics of Maddi’s first ice-cream sandwich!

Although she’s finally settled into the new house, Maddi has a whole new set of issues. Toddler issues. Now that she has discovered how to walk and run, Maddi is all about setting her own agenda. And when bothersome adults try to interfere with that agenda, they are rewarded, Zsa-Zsa style, with slapping and screaming.

Yes, Maddi has hit the terrible twos early, it would seem. Simple mealtime slights such as giving her the food she pointed at (rather than the one she meant to point at) result in sippy-cup hurling and a very rapid and angry tray-clearing ritual that results in the total destruction of our dining area in five seconds flat. Heaven forbid that we should exit the car to run a quick errand and then re-enter the car too early for our princess’ liking. Or that we should not take her outside to play ball at 3 a.m. If such offenses occur, Maddi will make her feelings known by slapping our chest, flinging herself backward and wailing. If she happens to be on the floor, the display is of even more melodramatic proportions.

So far, her tantrums last approximately 20 seconds if she’s fed and well-rested, but if we don’t nip it in the bud, it could turn ugly. After all, this is a child who is capable of keeping herself awake from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. sans nap when she’s so inclined.

In other news, I can occasionally get her still long enough to put really poorly constructed ponytails in her hair.

Sometimes I wonder what Maddi must think of our new house. Chris and I arranged the move so that Maddi would have her crib and her favorite toys set up on her very first night here. Her routine has been kept exactly the same (only, since we now have a fabulous backyard, with more outdoor play). But still, she knows that it’s not the same room she’s slept in for the past 15 months. She keeps a happy smile on her face, but there are cracks in the facade.

The first few nights and for the majority of her naps, she’s wailed for several minutes after being tucked in in her new room. For the first week, she resorted to her old hobby of finger painting the crib after waking up from sleep or a nap. This happened four times in two days, actually. She knows she’s not supposed to do it, and she had stopped for a few weeks before the move (as opposed to the olden times when it once occurred daily for a month running), but it seems the stress of dealing with a new house and unfamiliar bedroom made it impossible for her to control the urge to remove every single, solitary clump from her diaper after her post-nap poo.

She’s also stopped handing me all those random pieces of lint and dirt she finds on the floor. For several months, she’s been so accustomed to the words, “Give it to Mommy” that she would automatically give me anything smaller than a golf ball that she happened to pick off the floor. Even if it happened to be a Cheerio, which of course are perfectly acceptable for her to have. But in the past week, she’s not only not volunteered her finds, she’s run in the opposite direction with them.

But the thing that really made me cry (yes, I literally cried!) was when we were cleaning out the old house after everything had been moved. Maddi and I went in to get one last look at her room, which had been empty for about a week. But she recognized it nonetheless. As we walked underneath her light, she reached up to touch the ceiling fixture “goodnight” as she has done every night before bed for half her little life — something she doesn’t do in any other room. Our little girl was saying goodbye forever to her first bedroom. After she saw her old room for the last time, the poop-painting ended as quickly as it had resurfaced.

Of course, it’s not all tears and sadness. Our old backyard was difficult to access, abutted a mountainside, measured about 100 square feet and was full of weeds, rocks and pine needles. The backyard at our new place is right off the family area and is maintained weekly by someone other than me. There’s lots of room for our little one to run around, and she can do so barefoot because the turf is the softest and smoothest and most weed-free grass imaginable. There’s not a pine needle to be found, and all the rocks are neatly contained in the many not-maintained-by-yours-truly flowerbeds. In short, it’s baby heaven!

Maddi spends a sizable portion of each day playing with an assortment of rubber balls on our lush lawn. When she’s tired of bouncing balls, she has a half-dozen varieties of flora at her disposal to pick and bestow on family members — or, as is her recent wont, to shake until the petals fly off. And if that gets boring, there’s a chain-link fence that makes a satisfying clanging noise when smacked, and a golden retriever next door at which Maddi enjoys panting.

Indoors, since the new house is all on one floor, she is no longer segregated from the kitty habitat, which means Maddi can chase and pet Deva to her heart’s content. In fact, her play yard is situated about a foot from the kittie feeding and litter box pen, and yesterday I caught her standing precariously atop the seat of her little ride-on toy, hanging over the side of her play yard to tease the cat, who was sitting atop her litter box and eying the wee one suspiciously.

Of course she is still moody, so who’s to know whether she likes the new house or misses her old one (or both)? She’s got plenty of words, but none that can express feelings of homesickness or loss. The most eloquent way she’s expressed her feelings so far has been by touching her old light goodbye.

On the word front, nothing new lately. She’s still working on “butterfly.” However, she hasn’t been a lazy girl; Maddi’s really got the hang of this walking thing now. She almost never crawls, and if she’s anxious enough to get to something, she breaks into what could almost be called a run, but which I will simply for now call the “power toddle.” Walking on the grass has really steadied her gait on land, and she’s pretty much unstoppable at this point.

Coming soon: Pics of our 15-month-old playing ball in the backyard.

For a long time, I joked that Maddi was a two-year-old boy in a baby girl’s body. Her hobbies included destroying things, getting into stuff, and head-butting the other babies in her playgroup. Even her toys of choice, cars and balls, were action-oriented. But now, she is turning into a bit of a girlie girl.

I didn’t really expect her to enjoy the dress-up box we gave her and Kaija until she was 2 or 3. But surprisingly, she enjoys this new amusement even more than her sister does. When she sees the Hawaiian leis we got at the local dollar store, she points and squeals until I have no choice but to place one over her head — which is always bowed expectantly by the time the lei reaches her. She particularly loves a fuchsia satin purse encrusted with rhinestones, which I found at a post-holiday sale. She daintily places the purse on her shoulder and toddles around with her arm up so as to hold it in place while she goes about her “business.”

Another activity she enjoys is picking flowers in our front yard. Even as a colicky wee thing, she always calmed down when I pulled out the sling and took her out in the warm sunshine. Between the ribbons of the memory board on her wall are wedged the first flowers we ever picked together, when she was just a few months old. Now, when we look out the front window, Maddi will point at the front yard and I’ll ask her if she wants to go pick some flowers. The question is always answered with enthusiastic nodding and squealing, and she will point out each flower she wants me to pick for her. She usually wants to show her bouquet off to Daddy, and if Chris is lucky, she will generously bestow on him her chubby fistful of manhandled posies.

Unfortunately her girliness does not extend to hair ornamentation. No sooner do I get one ponytail in and begin work on the next, than the first ponytail is destroyed by Little Miss Grabbyhands. And when I put a barrette in her hair, heaven forbid that we should pass a mirror and she should spot the offending clip. She will proceed to claw at her head angrily until the hated barrette — hitherto unnoticed — has been removed from her bangs.

Nevertheless, I’ve been persisting with the barrettes and bobby pins and now she sits still for the most part while they’re being clipped on. Now that she’s got a bit of hair on her head, she looks less like the little round-headed man from Monopoly and more like a wee girl.

In other news, she is walking fairly well now. At first, she would only toddle around at the gym’s daycare, where there were big kids to show off for. At home, it was all about crawling. But soon, she realized that walking with something in one hand was far more efficient than crawling while clutching an object, and got a little practice in while carrying things across the room. Pretty soon, she decided this walking thing wasn’t so bad after all, and she will walk to people or things if they’re not more than five or 10 steps away. She still resorts to crawling when she’s excited or wants to get somewhere fast, but slowly and surely she’s becoming a toddler!

On the word front, she has continued with the girlie-girl theme. Her favorite new words are “fowver” (flower) and “puuhh” (purse). Other new words include “truck,” “what” and “poopoo” — the latter of which is used at some point every few days to tell me she needs to poop. I ask her if she wants to poopoo on the potty, she nods excitedly, sits on the toilet and giggles and kicks, then tries to leap off and poops two minutes later after I diaper her. But even though she hasn’t figured out exactly when that poopoo is coming, we’re still counting “poopoo” as a word. That brings us to 55 words thus far. More will doubtless follow in the coming weeks, as she has been trying lately to say “butterfly” per her fixation on her decor and the protagonist of her favorite book, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”

And here is a snap of Maddi and Mommy at the beach last weekend, playing it safe in the shade!