rolling along

The baby rolled over last week.  She was rolling, front to back, teeter-totter, for a couple months.  However, it has been sporadic, like losing her balance when placed "just so" on her elbows.  This time, she actually pushed on her hands and flipped herself over.  Pleased as she was with herself, she continued to do it, and prove that it's no longer a fluke.

Development. Check.

I felt excited, but also a bit nonchalant.  Of course babies roll over.  Why not?  This is only one little milestone in a series of milestones in a lifetime of little things that each human accomplishes, then moves along to her next challenge.

Still, it's probably the final time I'll celebrate this one for my own child.  It's also one of those little surprises and developments for myself.  It sounds obvious, but I'm finding myself taking little steps and achieving little things right beside my roly-poly baby.  I'm learning about babies with expected delays in development.  I'm learning about Down Syndrome.  I'm learning and re-learning and re-learning again that every person (including every soul in my home) is unique and interesting and yet not all that different from one another.

A friend shared a really sweet story with me the other day.  It brought tears to my eyes, partly in widening my mind to hopes and dreams for my daughter.  The tears were also out of guilt - for not having those hopes and dreams before hearing that story.

I don't know what to expect with her, but I'm learning to rethink it all - even to remember that I should have expectations.  Maybe that's something to celebrate in and of itself.  Maybe it's like rolling over on purpose - just engage some new muscles in the right way, at the right time.  It's big, it's small, and it's part of growing toward more mobility.

Perhaps it will cease to surprise me when my baby - this baby - is on or ahead of schedule in development.  Perhaps I'll learn to really celebrate those things.  Perhaps, as another friend advised me, every little development will be a big deal.  I'll get online and blog about it Right. At. That. Moment.  On the other hand, perhaps I'll continue to learn that she's a baby, and babies do these things.  There will be balance and progress, however uncoordinated and imperfect, for us all.

stinkin' ethics

Sometimes life is messy... literally.  I'm getting really, really tired of diapers.  Even though the boys have generally been out of them and using indoor plumbing by their 2nd birthday or so, I still have a baby in diapers and I'm starting to grow weary.  I've heard of "EC" for a couple years, but thought it was basically a bunch of hippie voodoo.  

Then I tried it, just on a whim, and the baby has been really responsive.  She's still in diapers. but a couple times a day she uses the toilet.  Amazing.  Maybe there is a light at the end of this tunnel.

Unfortunately, Obi-3, who is 2 1/2, has decided he's not really interested in being consistent with his use of indoor plumbing.  If he's busy playing, or just otherwise obstinate, he'll go in his underwear.  If there's one thing worse than changing wet or stinky cloth diapers, it's changing wet and stinky underwear on a squirmy kiddo.  Ugh.

I've tried all the bribes, techniques, rewards, and patience we used to get him toilet trained.  Sometimes it works, but he seems uninterested in all of the motivators that were really exciting a few months ago.  A good friend was over recently, and shared that her daughter regressed in the same way.  She figured out a habit-forming bribe that worked, and shared it with me: get a toy, or something the child really (REALLY) wants, have it sitting out and tell the child he must go 5 days with no misses in order to have the reward.  Five. Days.  She figures that makes a habit.  For her daughter, it was a doll house.

My boy wants his own guitar.  He loves musical instruments, and wants a real one to play.  After yet another miss, a bath, and mounting exasperation this morning, I decided to give it a try.  I told him that I would put up a picture of his very own guitar, and he could have it (the guitar) when he had five days of no accidents.  We'd put stickers on the picture to count the days.

He looked thoughtfully as we pulled up pictures of guitars online, and then said, "Obi-3 wants a ukulele."  (He speaks like Elmo - always using his name instead of a pronoun.)  No kidding.  The child who struggles to enunciate "orange" somehow managed "ukulele."  Oh, and he wants a red one.

Okay.  MamaToo can be bought.  I found this red ukulele that I can get here within days.  I showed him the picture, said we'd get it for him in exchange for the desired habit, and promised to put the picture up while he works on earning it.  "If you can keep your underwear dry for 5 days, I'll get this ukulele for you."

He replied, "No.  Obi-3 no want ukulele."

I looked at him, puzzled.

"Obi-3 no want guitar."

I started to get a little worried.

"Obi-3 wants BAN-JO."

Banjos appear to run at least $50.  They do not, from my initial searches, appear to come in red.  They are not commonly stocked at the online retail mega-stores, which means I need to make phone calls to local music shops to see if it's even an option.  A banjo.  Seriously?!?

And really, I think he's probably driving a hard bargain because he won't be bribed. If I find a red banjo, he'll want something else - an accordion or harp, probably. The child is a serious example of political gridlock.  Or, maybe he just has amazing ethics.  Frankly, I'm not sure whether to be impressed or frustrated.  Either way, it appears that the only thing I'm in control of changing is his pants.  Ugh.