My Little Chef-in-Training

Though I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a epicurean master, I am rather comfortable in the kitchen. I know my way around a Cuisinart, and I can whip up a yummy marinade by tossing a few random condiments together in a Ziploc bag. So it delights me to no end that Daniel seems to find happiness in all things culinary. Aside from simply liking to eat, Daniel prefers to play with cups and utensils over anything else. He just got a picnic-table playhouse, and he loves to sit on the bench and join me for a pretend tea party. He'll take a plastic cup and spoon and show me how to "stir," no doubt mimicking my feverish morning-coffee preparation. He picks up the plastic hot dog and takes a "bite," and even "nibbles" the plastic corn. What he much prefers, however, is the real thing.

If I allowed him, Daniel could play in the refrigerator and dishwasher for hours. He climbs into the fridge and proceeds to remove all jars and containers from the shelving on the door. He's particularly fond of the syrup and soy sauce. Whatever he can reach gets rearranged. The dishwasher, though not the safest of play zones, is a wonder to him. He pulls out silverware and mugs and begins to prepare a concoction. He loves the sound of the forks and knives clanging together, and really enjoys manipulating the "adult" utensils. All that he usually gets are the boring, noiseless, plastic spoons. I'm content to let him play with the contents of the dishwasher, so long as I'm nearby to supervise. So far, he hasn't shown any violent tendencies while brandishing a butter knife.

Last night, I served Daniel grilled chicken and sweet potatoes for dinner. He seemed to enjoy it at first, but soon grew annoyed with having to use his hands to feed himself. I pulled out a plastic fork and showed him how to stab the pieces of food and lift them to his mouth. He was doing pretty well, too, until the novelty wore off. In the end, I had to give him a real knife and fork to play with so that he would allow me to feed him the remainder of his dinner. There was something so interesting about those grown-up utensils that eating became a secondary function. Next step is to teach him how to cook me dinner!

Food, Glorious Food

Daniel seems to have turned over a new eating leaf. Which is to say, he has been rather adventurous lately with the foods he is willing to try. For example, at the deli this past Friday night, Peter decided to offer Daniel a couple of pieces of half-sour pickle, for what seemed like the millionth time. Prior to this occasion, Daniel had either tossed the pickle aside with not even a shred of consideration, or touched it to his lips and promptly puckered in disgust. For whatever reason, this night was different. Daniel hungrily gobbled up the pickle, grunting in frustration when the pieces in front of him were gone. But he didn't stop there. He sampled sour tomatoes, rye bread, and even black olives (ugh...he definitely didn't get this particular taste from me). When his dinner came, he ate mostly half of his grilled cheese sandwich, some sweet potato fries, and even some boiled chicken from Peter's soup! I had never seen anything like it. I find it hard to believe that this was the first time Daniel was actually hungry. I suspect, rather, that his appetite waxes and wanes as randomly as his moods. Welcome to toddlerhood!

For the most part, Daniel is still content with his fruit and oatmeal breakfast. Sometimes I spice things up with some banana chunks or graham crackers, but the kid is pretty consistent. Lunch is a challenge. Whether it's because he's tired and ready for a nap, or because he's displeased with the food selection I've offered, Daniel frequently tosses half his lunch on the floor. I can understand when Ollie is begging and Daniel wants to share. But most of the time, he just nonchalantly flings the food aside. I find that he's more likely to put the food in his mouth if I look away or busy myself with some other activity (i.e. reading, cleaning up). But I still haven't solved the mystery of what causes him to dispose of his lunch in the first place. I want to believe what everyone tells me: he will eat if he's hungry. But the frustration of seeing another meal go to waste is sometimes too much to bear!

At the grocery store this weekend, I tried my best to select items that would serve to expand Daniel's food repertoire. Some grilled chicken, veggie corn dogs, turkey meatballs...you know, real food! The baby food is officially gone. Pureed carrots no longer do it for him. I continue to struggle with providing a balanced, nutritional meal for him on a regular basis. But when I'm on my hands and knees, picking up pieces of strawberry and chicken, feeling overwhelmed, I repeat my mantra until even I believe it: If he's hungry, he will eat.

Laughing Through the Pain

Daniel has never been a hitter. So when he recently began kicking and swatting at my face while I was giving him his nighttime bottle, I was understandably concerned. He wasn't acting out of anger or frustration; in fact, he was smiling and laughing as he did it. For him, the hitting was a game. I probably reinforced that idea by making silly sound effects every time he hit or kicked. A couple of times, he really hurt me and I exclaimed, "Ouch!" I tried my best to be serious and said to him, sternly, "No hitting. You hurt Mommy." He continued to smile, repeating, "Ouch. Ouch." The way he said it ("Ach!") was so cute and funny, I couldn't help but laugh. Once again, I had inadvertently reinforced his behavior.

I now find myself in situations where Daniel will pull my hair or kick my chest, I'll say, "No hitting!" and he'll smile and say, "Ach!" Even when I put on my angry face, Daniel will continue to chirp, "Ach! Ach!" and I'll inevitably begin to laugh. How am I supposed to teach him that what he is doing is wrong, when he perceives me to be as amused by it as he is?

Poor Ollie has been the target of Daniel's physical exuberance lately. Not only does Daniel chase Ollie around the house, but he also takes away Ollie's rawhide while Ollie is chewing it. Even when I suspect he's trying to pet Ollie, Daniel kind of swats at him. Ollie ends up being extremely pissed off, and usually retreats to a corner somewhere. I feel terrible for Ollie. He's certainly not going to stick up for himself, but I can't yell at Daniel because he hardly knows what he's doing to the poor dog. Daniel sees it as playful behavior, whereas Ollie sees it as anything but. I'm torn between teaching Daniel the concept of right and wrong to the extent that he understands it and protecting Ollie and myself from these bouts of physical aggression. My hope is that Daniel will soon gain better control of his strength, thereby causing him to interact more gently with those around him.

Testing, Testing -- One, Two, Three

Daniel seems to be at an age where he is keenly aware of the difference between right and wrong. I'm not saying that he understands subtle questions of morality, but rather that he knows he shouldn't be pulling knives out of the dishwasher. Lately, he has been demonstrating behavior that can only be explained as a way to "test" my reaction to it. For example, he'll take a piece of food off the tray of his high chair and hold it over the side, almost daring me to stop him from dropping it on the floor. He knows this is unacceptable behavior, as evidenced by the "look" he gives me immediately before he drops the food. What I'm beginning to discover is that my reaction directly affects the outcome of the situation (duh, psychology 101, I know). If I sternly say, "No!" he usually hesitates for a moment before letting it go. But 9 times out of 10, he WILL let it go. If I sneak glances at him out of the corner of my eye, making him think I'm ignoring him and that I couldn't care less what he does with his food, he usually rethinks his actions and shoves the food in his mouth instead. All he wants is attention, good or bad. After having been a teacher for 7 years, you'd think I'd have figured this out a lot sooner. It's the classic "acting out" defense. Doing the wrong thing almost always gets the grownup's attention. Thus, knives pulled out of the dishwasher and food dropped on the floor.

I have been combating this misbehavior through a combination of ignoring it, as I mentioned, and by praising Daniel for good behavior. I can often be heard saying, "You are eating so beautifully!" or "Thank you for playing so nicely with your toys!" These super-positive statements may sound patronizing to a third grader, but not to an 18-month-old. The more positive attention I give to Daniel, the less he'll have to rely on behaviors like dumping Ollie's food onto the floor or tearing apart the TV Guide. He's figuring out what he can get away with, and what warrants a scolding. The hard part for me is drawing the line between teaching him what behaviors are unacceptable, and just letting him be a toddler without losing my mind.

Bonding Time

Daniel has always been willing to cuddle with me after finishing a bottle, but lately he likes to play little games that allow him to "explore" through the use of touch. He lays across my lap, his belly full of milk at the end of a long day. Once the bottle is out of the way, he places his hand on my face. Sometimes he just pushes my cheek so I'll turn my head, causing him to laugh hysterically. Other times, he'll run his fingers over my eyes, nose, and mouth, no doubt trying to figure out these strange facial features that everyone seems to have. If I ask him, "Where is Mommy's ear?" he'll gently brush my ear with his fingertips. Ditto for the eye, nose, and mouth. If he's feeling particularly spunky, he'll grab a piece of my hair and yank on it. When he doesn't pull my hair, he pulls my shirt. All of this "playing" with Mommy is Daniel's attempt to interact with his familiar surroundings in a new way. He used to cuddle passively, now he wants to be entertained.

While it's difficult to get him to sit still on my lap for any extended period of time, I cherish these quiet moments we share each night. There is so much rushing around during the day. I'm always busy driving to activities, changing diapers, or making meals. Daniel and I rarely get to simply be together, enjoying one another's company. This nightly ritual of silliness and intimacy is our way of connecting at the end of a busy day. We have our special routine, which Daniel can rely on. I've figured out, through much trial and error, what works best for him as he prepares for bedtime. Though the nighttime routine is constantly evolving, there will always be certain aspects of it that remain constant: I will always cuddle with Daniel (if and when he lets me, of course), I will always wish him sweet dreams, and I will always say, "I love you."

The First (Hair)cut is the Deepest

I didn't do it. It's not that I chickened out -- quite the opposite, actually. I made the phone call to schedule Daniel's first haircut appointment, but the place I had chosen was booked solid. I guess a lot of parents were feeling brave on this sunny Saturday. A wave of disappointment came over me. I had committed to the idea of taking Daniel to get his hair cut, and it wasn't going to happen the way I hoped. The thought of doing it on his 18-month birthday was almost symbolic, and certainly memorable. A coming-of-age ritual, of sorts. But there was to be no cutting of Daniel's golden locks today. Maybe it was a sign.

Now that I've psyched myself up for this momentous occasion, however, there's no turning back in my mind. I've tentatively booked Daniel's haircut for next Saturday. Time and place of my choice. We'll call it his special "Hanukkah" haircut, I guess! I'm not worried that he'll be scared or freak out, just that he'll no longer look like my gorgeous little boy. I'm most afraid that he'll emerge from this haircut appointment looking like a (gulp!) BIG BOY. Now that he's 18-months old, I definitely can no longer call him a baby or an infant. He is a toddler, in every sense of the word. He's approaching 2 years old, after which his age will no longer be marked in months, but rather in years. From that point on, it's just a matter of time until he's in preschool. Holy crap.

This week I will remind myself to enjoy his "babyness." I'll run my fingers through his (still) silky curls, gently kiss his soft cheeks, and tickle his bony little chest. Because next weekend's milestone is just a haircut. His essence will remain the same for now. One day, however, not too far in the future, I'll greet my gorgeous little boy by looking up at him and realizing that he is bigger than me.

To Cut or Not to Cut?

Daniel was pretty bald up until his first birthday. When I look at pictures of him from back then, I'm amazed by the cute little "buzz cut" he had. I remember the awful cradle cap -- how I would massage his scalp in the bathtub with Head & Shoulders, and then gently pick at the loose flakes while he drank his bottle and drifted into la-la land. Sometime between about 8 and 12 months, however, the cradle cap went away. In its place grew silky blond ringlets. As he approaches his 18-month birthday, Daniel now has a headful of beautiful hair. And I'm contemplating whether or not it's time to cut it. I must be crazy, right?

It's not that his hair is getting in the way. On the contrary, it stays out of his eyes and just barely caresses the top of his ears. The back of his head is covered by luscious ringlets that criss-cross one another like something Rapunzel spun up in that tower of hers. It gets thicker and thicker by the day. For some reason, I feel like it is a good time for his first haircut. Turning 18 months old is an exciting milestone, one that would be made all the more special by incorporating another important rite-of-passage: the first haircut. So why do I keep changing my mind and delaying my phone call to Sharkey's Cuts for Kids?

Celebrities like Kate Hudson and Celine Dion seem to be suffering from "first haircut-phobia" to an extreme. These little boys could easily be mistaken for little girls, due in no small part to their mothers' refusal to cut that silky baby hair that we all wish we could hold onto forever. I personally think these ladies need to get a grip and give in to the shears. I know that I will, soon enough. Will I regret doing it now, before Daniel's hair really necessitates a cut? Is the first haircut a symbolic "letting go" that means your child is no longer a baby? Whatever the case, I'll reveal my decision as Daniel's 18-month birthday comes and goes this weekend.

Vacation: The Not-So-Guilty Truth

Peter and I just returned from an adults-only trip to St. John. While we were away, Daniel stayed a couple of days with each set of grandparents. We had left him for multiple days once before, when he was about 6 months old. Back then, the instructions were easy: Give him 6 bottles of formula a day, put him to sleep on his stomach (doctor's orders), and try to feed him some rice cereal if you're feeling adventurous. A year later, he's a more complex little guy. The rituals are more detailed, and there's way more jumping through hoops to get him to cooperate. Despite the increased amount of responsibility involved in watching a mobile and curious toddler, however, I wasn't worried that the grandparents would have a tough time with Daniel. Rather, I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to stop missing him long enough to enjoy myself while on vacation!

The island of St. John is a very kid-friendly place. The dress code is casual, and every restaurant has a child's menu. There were many families staying at our hotel -- the kids frolicked on the beach and in the pool, and their parents pushed the little ones around in their jogging strollers. They seemed to have the best of both worlds: They were on vacation in beautiful St. John, but they also had their children with them. I would always feel a twinge of guilt when I saw these families together. Was it unfair to leave Daniel at home while we embarked on a getaway? Should we have included him in our vacation plans? Was I being selfish to desire some time to myself? I can honestly say, now that I am home and able to reflect on the 5 glorious days we spent away from Daniel, that the answer is NO. And I'm not embarrassed to explain why.

I'm always wary of people who boast that they've never been away from their children, not even for one night. I, for one, was unaware that there was a contest. Are the children of these "super-parents" really better off for never having been left with a babysitter while their parents enjoy some much-deserved alone time? I believe that Daniel is a flexible, easy-going child precisely because I have taken time for myself on occasion. If I didn't, I'd be a lot more stressed and exhausted. How would that make me a better mother? I needed this vacation. I had been feeling burnt out recently, and I was craving a break from the fast-paced routine of everyday life. Being alone in St. John allowed me to sit back and relax, and take time to do the frivolous things I enjoy: read chick-lit, exercise, daydream, and eat delicious food. There were no feeding times, no nap times. I didn't have to worry about getting back from dinner in time for Daniel to go to bed. I was able to enjoy a particular brand of freedom that I no longer take for granted (since I rarely get to experience it!).

Sure, I missed Daniel. I couldn't wait to see him and give him a big hug and kiss. Our reunion was sweet, and I still haven't come down from the high two days later. Peter and I look forward to many family vacations in the future. We can't wait to travel with our children, to make the memories that last forever. But we're proud of ourselves for recognizing the importance of an adults-only vacation now and again, if for no other reason than to reaffirm how much we adore our little guy.

Curiosity or Mischief?

Daniel is into everything these days. Wherever his little legs can carry him, that's where he wants to be. Up and down steps, in and out of rooms, over and under furniture. Thank goodness for babyproofing -- gates, cabinet locks, and outlet covers keep him safe and me sane. But he still manages to find a loophole. There's always some uncharted territory for him to explore (usually one that I never could've anticipated). Recently, he's become fascinated by the floor vents in each room. Since the grates are not screwed down, he's figured out how to remove them. it's a perfect hiding place for Daniel's treasures. Our Comcast remote disappeared for a week or so; it was found only when I observed Daniel "rescuing" it from one of these floor vents. After countless scoldings on my part, he continues to explore the vents. At this point, is he still seeking to satisfy his curiosity, or is he drawn to the vents for the sole purpose of pushing my buttons? Does he understand the concept of "mischief," or is he simply an innocent explorer?

Another place with which Daniel is obsessed is the dishwasher. Not only can he open and close it, he can lock and unlock the handle. It's a no-win situation. As soon as the door is down, there's no power on Earth great enough to keep him from touching the silverware. It's shiny! It's sharp! The knives are of particular interest to him (and the cause of a near-heart attack on my part -- the first time he pulled one out, he started running across the kitchen with the knife in his hand -- makes running with scissors seem like child's play). I had to start putting the knives on the top rack to keep them away from Daniel's hands. But he still likes to climb onto the open door and pull out the coffee mugs, to my chagrin.

The list of favorite objects goes on and on: the Diaper Genie (I've even caught him sticking his hand in and pulling out dirty wipes -- no diapers, thank goodness!), Ollie's food and water bowls (poor Ollie, his bowls spend half the day out of reach), my wallet (self-explanatory, only going to get worse as he gets older), any working telephone which we are too careless to place out of his reach, remote controls (he's inadvertently cancelled one too many TiVo recordings for it to be funny anymore), and basically anything else he's not supposed to touch. I truly believe that curiosity is an important trait for a little boy to have. I don't want to believe that Daniel goes directly to these objects with the intention of driving me crazy. But the Diaper Genie? Seriously. There's nothing in there even remotely worth checking out.