A year on...

About a year ago I used to take R to our local Starbucks for a little caffeine fix in the morning every once in a while. This was when he was about 8 months old.

Back then taking him out meant him staying in his stroller and me trying to relax but really just barely containing my anxiety.  This is because sometimes being out with a baby is a bit like being out with a bomb that might detonate any minute to become a screaming, crying, yelling, pulling and banging little meatball.

                   a là this lil monster 

A year has since passed and I am amazed by the remarkable advancement in R's ability to adjust to life as an aware and responsible part of society, where he understands that behavior described above is not socially preferred, and is able sit relatively still and talk in a moderately controlled volume whilst inside an indoor coffee shop.

Today we had a wonderful time playing with his Pokemon stickers and sharing a garlic herb bun. 

Funny things that my son did #1

Thought it might be fun to document all the silly things that R did over the course of however long I'm able to keep my blog up! 

Now although this is recorded as #.1, by no means is this actually the first time this regular comedian did something that made us go... Huh? Then ....wahahahaha

#1. He tried to put his 'mr.&mrs. Potato head watch on his... Ahem... Manhood.

Spring Cleaning

My boxes from Osaka have arrived and in my attempt to fit everything into my current storage compartments I have come to the sad realization that my clothes + hubby's clothes + Rs clothes = I need to do some serious clothes discarding.

It's a bit sad to throw things away. Even the glittery top I've never worn but had so much potential when I first saw it in the shops, or the tutu skirt that fulfilled my childhood ballerina fantasy, or the leopard fur coat that I snagged for a steal at the local night market that made me feel like a rock star.  All the fashion possibilities or statements I wanted to make that sadly can longer be tolerated in my limited wardrobe.

However, all those, I have been able to withstand without so much as shedding a tear, but when it came to the mountain of clothing R has accumulated in his 1yr and 8 months on earth, my heart couldn't help but skip three beats each time I decide to toss a piece.  Like the quilted pants circa winter 2012 that now had a hole on the knees due to exceeds crawling; or the eggplant and pea beanies that no longer fit on R's toddler sized head.  Every piece if clothing item had so much memory and sentiment attached to it that I'm finding it near impossible to discard.

Does anyone else have this problem?

I believe it's time for me to initiate my 'make a quilt blanket out of your children's clothes' plan.

Heartbroken

After his shower today R didn't want to read any books, which is a first because usually we go through 5-8 books every night.  He was just wondering around the room, mostly hanging by the door and playing with the door knob.  I kind of let him be, because I thought perhaps he was just curious what about grandpa and grandma were up to.

After a while I realized he was laying down by the door his face against the ground peeping through the crack and breathing rather quickly.  I got a bit nervous wondering if he had got his fingers stuck or was not feeling well so I asked him if he was ok, to which he did not reply.

I did manage to see that his limbs and other body parts seemed intact so I asked him if he wanted to read a book he said no, shaking his head profusely.

I asked if he wanted a hug he said no, again shaking his head.  I asked him if he wanted a hug, this time walking toward him with my arms open, and to my horror he backed away from me, towards the corner, almost crying.

And then I realized that he was afraid I was going to put him to bed, to his cot, alone.

You see since moving back to Taiwan almost three weeks ago, I have just started a few days ago to put him into his own cot at night again.  I was very lenient with bed sharing the first few weeks as I thought he might need the extra mummy time to settle into this new environment.  

However,the last few nights of settling into his own bed was filled with tears and tantrums, and the culprit to tonight's tears.  

Swallowing my own tears, I said to R, let's go to mummy's bed and hug and he finally nodded ok.  We hugged and I let him sleep on me for a while then next to me on the bed for a bit and he seemed finally to have calmed down. 

After some time I asked him if he wanted to sleep he nodded, I asked him if he wanted to sleep in his cot? And to my surprise he said yes and nodded his head again. I was shocked and thought perhaps I heard wrong, so I asked him once more, and again he said yes!

Carefully I put R in his cot and at first he seemed a little anxious but he didn't cry. He gave his favorite toy monkey 'Bobo' a hug and put his head down on his pillow.  

I asked him if he wanted to hear a song and he say yes, and requested 'ba ba black sheep' then the alphabet song.

After a round of songs he fell quiet then peacefully asleep.

In the silence of the night I realized why R agreed to go to his cot, it wasn't because he's used to it, or he prefers it, it's because he wanted to do what I wanted him to do, despite what he really felt.  That's what gutted me the most tonight, that perhaps all this time he wasn't ready, but I had done what I thought was right without properly reading the signs he had given me, yesterday, and the day before, again and again.

I feel so heart broken, that my little boy would put my comfort before his, and I had let him do this all the while knowing how he felt about it. I've never been so ashamed by my own actions.

Toddlers, minimum communication skills, maximum demands

I found myself in one of those days, where I was so frustrated with my almost terrible two-year old that I wanted to pull my hair out, throw my arms up and scream my head off.

I knew he wanted something.

Something.

Something.

Something?

I had no idea.

His wordless commands escalated to desperate yelps to angry screams.

In the end he satisfied himself with a binkie and a poop.

Thus this was the day that I found out that perhaps I am not as down with it all as I thought I was, and unfortunately for me there was no happy ending to the rest of the day as angry and frustrated baby led to an even more exhausted mum
.  I guess there is no story book ending in real life and perhaps tomorrow or next week the same thing will happen and my blood pressure will once again be off the charts but I can offer myself only this advice, that it's a phase and one day things will get better, maybe not this week or month or year, but one day it will get better.

I'm right...right?

Boo hoo hoo

R cut his hand yesterday. I'm not sure if it was with his 'Spot can count' picture book or something else but it sliced a nice piece of skin off his palm and at first he was just staring at it, kind of bewildered, which is why I noticed him in the first place, then his shock turned into a tremendous bout of tears and shiver as he realized what had happened (I'm guessing the pain also kicked in right about now). This is a far cry (pun intended) from the brave dude who usually laughs in the face of needles, smirks at the sight of cliffs (or ends of beds really but what's the difference) and snickers at the sound of a barking dog (ok I exaggerated some but let it be known that he's not one for crying on mummy's shoulders over a little pain). I'm guessing the fact that he's probably way past his exhaustion limit is also the reason he was so worked up but funnily enough, the next day, as he catches sight of his now Anpanman band-aided palm he would burst into another episode of young and the tearful for a good few minutes.

This made me wonder, is R growing up by gaining more long term short term memory, or is he becoming more chicken?

A brand new mum!

I admit I am guilty.

Guilty of loosing my patience and yelling at my dear child after he's ( fill in the blank) or (fill in blank 2). Suffice to say I've yelled at my baby more often than I would have liked.

I have noticed that the effectiveness of my yelling at him has decreased so much so that he no longer reacts unless if I raise my voice louder than I had previously. This creates a huge problem for me because unlike a speaker I cannot tune my voice up or down with the turn of a switch and even speakers have a noise limit. Something must be changed.

I was thus inspired to 'quit' yelling, cold turkey because I was just sick of the current method of parenting and I felt that R and I both deserved better. An article from Parenting (Taiwan) gave me the necessary motivation to change. It is about how 400 days of no yelling changed the relationship of not only a mother and her child but also her relationship with herself. Here are a few points that age mentions which, I have to say, she makes a darn convincing argument!

1) You can sleep better at night without the guilt of today's yelling episodes on the back if your mind and the sound of your child screaming back 'I hate you mum' ringing in your ears.

2) You should always remember that your children are your most important audience ( not the strangers on the bus or in the supermarket). What they think of you is the most important so remember that next time a vein snaps.

3) Children are people too, it's unreasonable to expect them to always do the right thing or to follow your orders. How would we feel if every time we made a mistake somebody yelled at us?

4) You can't control your child's actions, but you can control your own. Even adults can't always follow directions down to a tee so why should we force our children to? Rather than yell until your voice breaks why not go to another room and give yourself a time out before trying another way of communication?

5) Screaming senselessly is only, well senseless, plus the child probably has no idea what you are going on about anyway.

6) Don't pass on any opportunity for bonding. Even if your child should be in bed but is instead next to you they could just be wanting to give their mummy a hug or a kiss good night! Yelling 'why aren't you in bed' not only deprives you of a affectionate moment but also leaves the child hurt and heart broken.

7) Make good use of 'at least..,' and 'luckily...' in those moments of accidents and other incidents, like 'oh he dropped the milk carton! Oh well at least it wasn't glass!'

8) Most of the time the problem isn't even the child, it could be you! Maybe you need a time out? A well deserved spa or massage? Get someone to babysit so u can have some me time and your child gets a happy mummy instead of a grumpy mummy.

9) Remember that everything is within your control, you are the adult and you are your child's best teacher on how to control their emotions!