As each day goes by, I find I’m losing my sweet baby to an inquisitive, determined, strong-willed toddler. Cordelia now sees herself as her own being and, in her mind, she is ready to set out on new adventures. Well, at least for a few minutes, until mommy is out of view, and then she’s suddenly not so bold as she comes crying back to me.

Along with this new independence comes power struggles. I know many other mommy and daddy bloggers out there have gone through this, some many times over. So I apologize if this sounds silly, since most of you can tell me it’s going to get far worse.

I knew these power struggles were coming, and I have read all the books on what to do. But sometimes she does things that mystify me. Things that make me wonder just what is going on in that little head of hers, as she figures out the world around her. Let me give you one small example of what I’m going through:

The sippy cup. Yeah, the sippy cup. Who knew a struggle over a cup with a lid and a spout could be so strong?

Our first battle with the sippy cup involved simply getting her to try using one. Around a year old, she remained a hard-core bottle baby. I started with the Avent cups, since we were already using the Avent bottles. No go – she wasn’t even interested in trying it. So I tried a Gerber cup. Nope. The Nuby cup that everyone recommended as the perfect first cup? Not so much.

Soon I had a beautiful selection of nearly every brand of sippy cup offered by Babies R Us, all of which showed no sign of wear. At this point, Aaron was getting angry that we were wasting so much money on cups she would never use.

But then I found the holy grail of sippy cups: the cheap disposable sippy cups. I should have known she’d forgo the fancy valves and smooth ergonomic handles of the other cups for the plain Wal-Mart brand cups that come in a 4-pack for $3.99. She took to the cup right away, and we breathed a sigh of relief that our child would not be entering pre-school someday with a backpack full of bottles.

Best of all, that sippy cup was really just a gateway cup. After it, she was willing to use any other sippy cup we offered her, aside from straw cups. We still can’t get her to drink from straw cups yet. I was able to redeem myself with Aaron over all of the money spent on sippy cups.

However, the struggle doesn’t end there. Oh no, it gets far more ridiculous.

While she’s now been drinking from a sippy cup for about 4 months, she has one small quirk: she won’t hold the cup. We must hold the cup for her as she drinks. I’ve never felt more like a servant to her than when I’m holding her cup so she can sip as much as she likes. Yes, your highness, allow me to hold your cup for you to keep your dainty hands free from the rough plastic.

I’ve seen other moms complain that their tots will refuse milk from a sippy, or refuse to drink cold milk from a sippy. I find myself wishing for their problems. I know she understands the basic mechanics of the cup. She knows where to put her mouth, she knows how to suck out the liquid, and she knows that she must tilt the cup up. So why can’t she do this?

There are several solutions given in all of the advice books. I’ve tried not making a big deal about it. I’ve moved away from the cup, hoping that she would pick it up and drink it if I wasn’t near her. But no, she only picks the cup up and brings it to me so I can give her a drink!

All day long I’m smacked in the arm or leg with her sippy cup, as she then pushes it into my hands to offer her a drink. She can’t even be polite about it. We repeat “cup” every single time, but she always thrusts the cup at us with a loud, harsh “uuuunnggghhh!” Dr. Karp was right – I am living with a mini-caveman.

I’ve tried to move her hands onto the cup while she’s drinking, which results in her forcefully pulling her arms away and giving a squeal mid-drink, spraying me with juice.

So now, I turn to all of my readers (yes, all 8 of you). Am I doing something wrong? Is my child just lazy? Is this a normal phase of toddlerhood? How can I get her to hold her own damn cup?

And most importantly: if I can’t get over this hurdle, how in the world am I going to handle the more serious power struggles?

I’m really surprised just how many people out there are searching for tips on giving their toddlers Benadryl for travel. Let’s just say of all of the different Google searches that lead people here, that’s the #1 search, hands down.

I guess there are a lot of parents scared that their toddlers will be screaming monsters on vacation. It always makes me nervous to think others are taking advice from me. I feel an urge to end any bit of advice with: Remember, this is my crazy kid. Your mileage may vary.

So, to those searching, I give you this: the dose is usually 1 teaspoon, but always double-check. Also, please consider this as a last resort. It does work for many kids, making them drowsy and easier to deal with.

But, remember that a small percentage of kids go bouncing-off-the-walls-head-spinning-peasoup-spitting-Exorcist-hyperactive on Benadryl. Mine was one of them. Do you really want to play that parenting Russian roulette game and risk making it even worse?

In other news, Aaron had an interview today. Cross your fingers, folks. If he gets this job, he could be forced to go on a cruise each year for work, and his family are welcome to come along.

Oh, darn.

I’ve seen several blog posts about depression lately, and after reading this article, I found myself lost in thought about my own trials with depression. (Pardon me while I go off on a “me, me, me!” story.)

During the second trimester of my pregnancy, I started taking antidepressants. A few years before that I had one serious bout with depression, and took medication for about 6 months before weaning off and feeling back to normal. I thought I was cured, but while pregnant, the depression started to slowly creep back in.

The worst part was that I felt horribly guilty about it. I was pregnant! More importantly, I wanted to be pregnant! I was supposed to be glowing, to feel wonderful, to be as happier than a cat in a catnip field! Yet each day I found myself dwelling more and more on dark topics. What if I couldn’t care for this baby? What if the baby was horribly malformed? What if it died? What if I died? What if Aaron didn’t think I was pretty after the baby was born? Some days I barely got off the couch, and often I’d stay in my PJs all day, eating ice cream and watching Special Delivery on Discovery Health.

Having already forced up the courage to ask about depression once before, I went to my OB and shared my concerns. It was at that point she let me in on a little secret: pregnant women often get depressed. Of course, I really didn’t believe her – I thought she was just saying it to be nice to the crazy person in the room. She told me to talk to my family doc about it.

I made an appt. with my family doctor, and when I started to open up about how I was feeling, I found myself crying in the exam room. I didn’t want to feel so down, but I didn’t want to risk hurting my unborn child with drugs, either. She also told me that depression was common in pregnancy (the doctors must be conspiring against me!), and suggested a mild antidepressant.

I balked at the idea, but she assured me that this was a well-established drug, and there was plenty of research showing it to be safe for pregnancy. She then told me that other research had confirmed that moms-to-be who are stressed or depressed pass the hormones released as a result of that stress on to the baby. So not only was I feeling down, but my poor child was also feeling the results of my depression.

While that should have helped my decision, I felt stuck in a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don’t situation. Either expose my child to damaging cortisol, or expose her to mood-altering drugs.

In the end, I chose the antidepressant. I read some of the research, and was disturbed by what high cortisol levels could do to a baby: preterm labor, low birthweight, reduced blood-flow to the placenta, etc. While there were also risks with the antidepressant, this particular drug had very few and rare risks. It was also safe for breastfeeding, so I could stay on it after birth to prevent post-partum depression (apparently those who have suffered from depression at any point in their lives are far, far more likely to develop post-partum depression).

I was happy, then, to see that article yesterday. Depression during pregnancy really isn’t talked about enough, and it’s clear that a pregnant woman should monitor how she’s feeling and not be afraid to bring up her feelings to her doctor.

And just to be clear, I’m not saying that anyone who feels a little depressed should ring up the doc for some drugs ASAP. Don’t think of me as a drug pusher, because I’m really not. I think it’s a very serious choice, and requires a lot of thought and discussion with your doctor. But I would urge anyone who is pregnant and feeling depressed or anxious, more than they think they should be, to bring it up at your next doctor’s visit.

For me, a low-dose antidepressant was the best course of action. It made the remainder of my pregnancy so much better. And once Cordelia was born, it greatly helped those first few weeks, or as I call them, the Hormonal-Dump-Kill-Me-Now weeks.

As for Cordelia? Well, she was born at term, and weighed in at an impressive 8 pounds 4 ozs. Other than having colic and a strong attitude, she was as normal as any other baby and showed no signs of being affected by the antidepressants. It was a good solution for both of us.

We had friends staying with us over the weekend, bringing with them their 3 year old son Paul and their 10 month old daughter Kate. I was thrilled they were coming up. We don’t see them enough, seriously.

Since we had them all to ourselves in Columbus, and since all three kids were in a cranky mood Saturday morning, I suggested we pack up and go to COSI.

Our friends had not been there in a long, long time, so they were totally willing to go along with this plan, if for no other reason than letting the kids run out their energy.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, COSI has an awesome play area. I think it’s probably one of the best in the city, if not the state. Sure, it costs money to get in (we have a membership), but it’s worth the price of admission just to come visit this little piece of Childhood Paradise.

It’s cool for several reasons:

1. There’s only one exit, and it’s guarded by a staff member and has a locked gate. Children cannot escape. Sure, it sounds like a prison, but if I was a kid and had to go to a prison like that, I’d be committing whatever crime needed to get me locked away in there.

2. The gate guard is responsible for making sure you leave with the same number of kids you came in with. Upon entering, you are given a slip of paper with the number of adults and kids on it. You must show this paper to leave the area, and the numbers must match. So no snatching kids, unless you leave an equal number of kids behind. (I’m sure some might consider that a fair trade.)

3. “But, if I can’t leave, how can I get a drink, or a snack, or visit the restroom?” No fear, my dear readers, they thought of that as well. Inside the play area, there are vending machines with drinks and snacks, including yogurt, sandwiches, and fruit. They also have tables to eat at. And they have three restrooms – men, women, and family. Best of all? There’s a nursing room that is not a part of the restrooms!

4. Only children 5 and under are allowed in. This minimizes the little ones getting trampled by the big kids. If you have an older child, they are welcome to wait in a gated area just inside the main gate (the Big Kids room), which is stocked with board games, puzzles and video games.

5. It has some of the most creative play spaces. Inside, there is a treehouse climbing area with slide, tunnels and rope bridge. There is a building area with lots of large plastic building blocks and frames of homes showing the wiring and the plumbing.

For the future med students, there’s a clinic where they can look at x-rays, put on doctor’s coats, and examine and care for the dolls in the area. There are also bandages to fix up boo-boos.

For those who like to drive or fly, there is a helicopter with a kid-powered propeller, and an ambulance with flashing lights. A small, yet well stocked, kitchenette is available for the FHA wanna-bees, complete with pots, pans, serving dishes, fake food, and a dinette table.

But wait, there’s more! There’s also a mini-studio where kids can record themselves on video. There’s a room to play with electronics and sound. A window into a locked room provides a glimpse of certain animals – rats, spiders, snakes, etc. (They’re also brought out for demonstrations occasionally.) And there’s my daughter’s favorite part – the water tables.

Beyond that, there are also smaller areas with other playthings: bead puzzles, beanbag chairs, air jets that hold up foam balls. There are also soft mats to place younger babies on for safety.

Essentially, it’s half of the second floor of the building, and it’s a huge, safe funhouse. On a busy Saturday, it’s filled with tiny humans racing around the room from area to area. I’ve also been there during the week, when it’s not as busy, but there are still plenty of children to interact with.

Our day was glorious. The kids ran themselves silly (well, Kate mostly crawled), and then they collapsed into the strollers so we could look at some of the other exhibits before closing time.

Two of the three fell asleep on the way home – can you guess which child didn’t sleep? Yeah, ours. Of course.

But the exercise mellowed all three out, and Cordy and Kate later sat quietly on the floor and shared a bowl of Cheerios while watching Wiggles.

(OK, fine. It was actually Kate’s bowl of Cheerios, and, as usual, Cordy saw food and immediately claimed it for her own. Luckily, Kate recognized how large Cordy is and didn’t put up a fight.)

Queen of Spain is having another induction into the Order of Saint Anne, and this month’s theme is love. She’s looking for photo posts that show what love is to each person.

My entry for the month has to be this one:

This was early on, when Cordy was still in her colicky, screaming-or-sleeping stage. While most babies this age slept for semi-long stretches, we were lucky to get a half hour to an hour out of her at a time.

Aaron had taken a turn with her, dealing with her crying so I could get some rest. He finally got her calmed down, and I walked into the living room to see this scene. At that moment my heart felt like it was going to burst: the two people in this world that I loved the most, snuggled together in peace. It took all of my self-control to quietly snap a picture and not disturb them by my desire to hug them tight.

Everything about this picture makes me smile; the look of exhaustion on Aaron’s face (we were both so tired back then), Cordelia’s delicate features, and Aaron’s arm gently covering her, as if he’s protecting her from the rest of the world.

Sigh.