This Is What Happens When You Watch Too Much Bollywood While Pregnant

Give Mira a sticker, and you’ve got a 90% chance of it ending up in the same place every single time:



What is it about the middle of her forehead that screams I need some decoration here! ?

I think she’ll be requesting a package of bindi jewelry for her birthday next month.

PS – Yes, she has a permanent case of bedhead.

PPS – No, it cannot be tamed with any amount of styling product.

PPPS – Yes, I tried everything. Embrace the tousled look.



The Journey To Sisterhood

Yesterday I read a post by Liz at Mom101 that made me think back to the early days of when Mira was a newborn and Cordy was a wild, intense, temperamental 2.75 year old. Those first weeks were a complete blur of emotion and sleeplessness for me as I tried to adjust to meeting the needs of a new little person and her big sister, who was needy in different ways.

The thing that broke my heart when Mira was little was Cordy’s complete lack of acknowledgment of her new sister. It was like Mira didn’t exist to her. Of course, this was also pre-evaluation when Cordy didn’t notice other kids most of the time either. I would sit on the couch, holding Mira and asking Cordy to come say hi to her new sister, only to have Cordy come say hi to me, not understanding this little wrapped up bundle in my arms was another human being.

Completely unaware of the other human being right next to her

It took months for Cordy to notice Mira, and all progress was tied directly to her progress in therapy in her preschool. As she ventured out of her internal world, the external world came into focus, and with that world her little sister, who desperately wanted the attention of this big kid in her space.

I remember when Cordy would run laps in the living room while Mira was in her exersaucer – as Cordy would come closer, Mira’s face would brighten with a smile and her arms would wave wildly to get Cordy’s attention. As Cordy ran past, Mira’s smile would fade to a slightly confused, slightly down expression, realizing she hadn’t been noticed. Repeat x 100.

I would cry at night, thinking this distance between my two girls would be permanent and Cordy’s emotional distance would prevent them from ever being close.

If we don’t make eye contact, she doesn’t exist.

Ever so slowly, though, Cordy recognized Mira. She would hear Mira cry and say, “Mira’s hungry!” Or hold Mira’s hands and move her arms back and forth like she was a toy. I then caught her hugging Mira once. Then instead of eating Mira’s snacks, she would feed one to Mira. For her part, Mira never gave up on Cordy, always initiating contact with the older girl who seemed unreachable at times.

But now. I can only say we’ve come a long, long way. Cordy still doesn’t always understand that Mira has feelings too, but she recognizes Mira as her little sister and as a fellow person. I’ll credit part of that to Cordy’s therapy, part of it to typical kid behaviors and maturation, and part of it to Mira’s insistence that Cordy WILL pay attention to her, dammit, even if she has to sit on her. They occasionally play together, and even if it is (usually) too rough, they both giggle until someone inevitably cries, and then they go back to wrestling and giggling again.

They are now sisters.



Bribes, Baking and Potty Training

Cordy is nearly four and half years old, and is still not potty trained. Yes, throw all your tsk-tsks at me, I’ve heard them a hundred times already. We’re not committed enough, we’re not doing it right, we’re letting her control the situation, we’re lazy – those are the primary reasons stated by complete strangers for why our daughter insists on remaining in diapers. As if it really impacts their lives if my kid is wearing a diaper.

But we have been trying, ever since she turned three years old. Many adjectives can be used to describe Cordy, but “compliant” is not one of them. Our long journey through potty training has included several types of potty chairs and seats, pull-ups, plastic pants, training underwear, reward stickers and candy, schedules, potty DVDs and books, potty songs, and many wet spots to clean up. By Christmas I was resigned to the fact that Cordy was likely to be in pull-ups for Pre-K next year.

Part of the problem at first was her fear of the bathroom. It was too noisy, it echoed too much. The toilet and faucet had running water, and she was always scared of getting wet. She didn’t like the feel of her bare bottom on cold plastic, and we’re not wealthy enough for heated toilet seats. Her sensory issues are not nearly as severe now, though – one hurdle down.

However, she also has a hard time knowing when she has to go. Of course, many kids often do this – how often have you seen a kid wet themselves because they were playing too intensely to notice? But she could be doing nothing and still pee without understanding what happened.

They have been working with her at school, and I’m incredibly grateful to her teacher for helping her get over her fear of the bathroom. At first she had to stand by the entrance, then she had to stand inside while other kids were using the bathroom. Then eventually they made her try sitting on the potty. We’d do the same thing at home, and it slowly started to sink in little by little, but she wasn’t consistent enough to try underwear, and she would scream and cry at the mere suggestion of underwear.

Over the past two months, she’s made a lot of progress. And then, a few weeks ago, everything clicked. She suddenly wanted to wear underwear instead of insisting on a pullup, and she made every effort to keep her underwear dry for an entire day.

What’s our secret? We finally found a reward that means enough to her to guarantee her effort in this task:


Baking.

Turns out, Cordy was switched at birth. Or at least she forgot to pick up the part of my DNA having to do with my lack of domestic skill. While I avoid the kitchen at the request of the Columbus Division of Fire, she wants nothing more than to pour, mix, and stir. She even likes cracking eggs! Given the choice of any reward, she would choose baking over anything else.

All photos are of food half-eaten. Sorry, she’s a pretty good baker.

So our new deal with Cordy is that if she can keep her underwear dry until dinnertime each day, she’s allowed to bake something for dessert. We’ve Daddy and Cordy have made cookies, brownies, muffins and cupcakes in celebration of dry underwear days. Cordy says she’s the “Little Chef” and Aaron is the “Big Chef.”

Mira, when she’s allowed to participate, is the “Littlest Chef of All” but most of the time Mira is serving in the role of “Biggest Pain in the Ass Who Tries to Wreck Everything.” That one is my kid for sure.

I can’t explain why it is suddenly working, but Cordy has more dry days than wet days in just two short weeks. She still needs an overnight diaper for bedtime, she still has to be prompted to go to the bathroom, and any chance of #2 in the potty is still far off, but I’m no longer as concerned that Mira would be out of diapers before Cordy.

Baking – who knew? It’s a good thing Aaron suggested baking cookies, because I never would have thought of it. And then Cordy might have remained in diapers until her first home ec class. Of course, I’d probably be skinnier, too – if she keeps baking, I’ll keep gaining weight.



I’m Not Ready For This

Yesterday, while volunteering at Cordy’s preschool, her teacher let me in on a little tidbit of Cordy’s school life.

“She’s got a boyfriend now, you know.”

“WHA?”

“Yep, she and [boy’s name] have been really sweet on each other.”

At that point my head exploded.

Apparently over the past two weeks she and this boy have suddenly become a couple. They sit next to each other during circle time, arms around each other. He insists on being right next to her at the table and in line. He asks for the same snack she likes to eat, even though he then won’t eat it because he doesn’t like it. If someone sits next to her he will get very upset.

Maybe he’s not so much a boyfriend as a stalker?

Even worse, he’s the “bad boy” of the class. He has massive tantrums, stubbornly refuses to do things, and I once watched him throw his shoe at an adult’s head. Why couldn’t she go for one of the gentle, quiet boys in her class?

I wasn’t expecting to deal with boys for quite some time. Like, say, 30 years from now. Of course, she doesn’t even mention him at home. When asked who her friends are at school, his name doesn’t come up. So while she willingly participates in the love-fest at school, she’s either not that interested in him or is choosing not to tell us. I’m really hoping it’s the former.

At least her first boyfriend is likely to be short-lived. We don’t know his family, and she’ll be at a different school next year. That gives me all summer to teach her how to go for the sweet, quiet guys instead. Or that boys have cooties and she should avoid them at all costs.



How A Bendy Straw Nearly Made Me Cry

Sometimes in parenting, it’s the small victories that mean the most. Today we had one of those moments:


That’s Cordy, drinking with a straw. For the first time ever.

It was three years ago (she was 15 months) that we were struggling with weaning her off of a bottle while she stubbornly refused to try a sippy cup. I eventually convinced her that she could obtain liquid from a sippy cup, but her condition was that I had to hold it for her.

She held it on her own at 19 months.

For over a year now Operation: Remove Sippy Cup has been in effect, and until today it was an utter failure. She refused to drink anything unless it was in a sippy cup, and it had to be in only one brand of sippy cup, too. A brand which, incidentally, they changed the design for last year, making it impossible to buy any new cups. And she considers the redesign a different type of cup.

I don’t know if you are aware of the life span of a sippy cup, but it doesn’t last forever. Eventually it becomes worn and small bits of black mold try to form in the moist crevices after it’s 2-3 years old. Cordy’s small collection of sippy cups have been washed thousands of times, and bleached more than a few to remove any beginnings of mold. We’ve had to declare three of them complete losses when they were left behind a sofa or in the car for more than a few days and no amount of bleach would remove the mold that started growing. Which leaves us with only 5 sippy cups, and no hope of reinforcements.

So you can see why we’ve been urging her to leave the sippy behind and try something else. At school they’ve convinced her to drink from an open cup, but it has to be the size of a Dixie cup and it can only be at school. Straws have never been an option.

(I should mention at this point that Mira has been drinking from a straw since 9 months old. The resentment of having a younger sib show her up must take a few more years to develop.)

Cordy’s autism plays a small part in this. I know many kids are stubborn – this is a problem that any parent could have. But Cordy has a preternatural fear of change. The slightest shift to her schedule or the objects in her life can ruin any tranquility in our house. We have to gently push her towards change, ever so slightly, trying to maintain the balance between drawing her out beyond her fears and losing her for a time as she retreats inside her own mind.

So how did we manage this feat? The promise of ice cream. Bribes work on any kid. OK, well, bribes never worked for this before now. Hey, I don’t care how it worked.

Of course, tomorrow she may refuse to look at a straw. We’ll see. But for now I’m thrilled.

Maybe potty training will come next?

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