I’m delaying the sequel to Birthing a Watermelon story to vent about Toddlers in transition to Jr. Pre-Schoolers. If I don’t share this now, I may just burst with frustration and develop a rash. I may even sell my child to the next group of gypsies who wander through the city.

I’ve been trying very hard to instill some independence in Carter. He plays well alone without coaxing, reads and can entertain himself with just about anything. I’ve prided myself on giving him options and letting him make a decision without making them too complex - like which hat he’d prefer to wear to school today.

I’ve created a monster.

A living fire breathing heathen attempting to suck my very soul from my still warm body.

Everything was going fine. We were doing great. Small decisions make him feel a little bit in control what the fuck do I know, hoenstly? and I don’t have to force everything upon him. Right?

Wrong.

At two this may have worked.

At two and a half?

Fucking.

Nightmare.

He refuses to choose, he wants everything - Right Now. ALL the trains have to go to school with him. ALL the stuffed animals MUST be in his bed; and ALL the hats have to come to daycare because Oh. My. God. The World Will END Without My Blue Hat And My Grey Hat.

A fuckin’ monster I’ve created people.

I’m wore out and dragging ass just about everyday. I am in bed by 9pm and sleep in late every morning THEN fight the Devil Child because Jay-seus Woman, I Want My Diego Sheets!

And For The Love Of God I Must Wear The White Socks With Blue On Them, NOT Red.

Work is my sanctuary at the moment.

Yes, yes, discipline the child and stop giving in to his every demand.

I don’t give in - all the time. I have learned to pick and choose where I want to stand my ground, but some days, I just have to concede because not every battle is worth it.

My day will go on without fighting over the damn red socks vs. the blue socks.

But am I then teaching him that his bitching and whining insisting on wearing the White Socks with Blue over the the White Socks with Red will wear mommy down and he will get what he wants if he throws a big enough tantrum?

I just keep reminding him that he’s lucky to be so cute because I would probably Fed-Ex him to the other side of the world otherwise.

And conveniently forget a return address.

Fuck this. This parenting gig is for the birds.

Just tell me I’m not alone. Tell me that your child has gone through this phase (and you both survived at the other end)?

What have you done to curb the craziness? How have you managed to get through without selling or shipping your child to a foreign country?

Giving birth was never something I feared. I knew it wasn’t going to be all rainbows and pink fuzzy bunnies; there were likely going to be tears, sweating and even some yelling. No matter how many horror stories you hear or images you see - while watching those baby story TV shows - nothing can actually prepare you for what your body will go through.

One would normally have anxiety about the unknown, right? I fear my anxiety is far worse this time since I know more about what I’m in for - which I pray is not the same as the last.

Pregnancy with Carter was a breeze. I was content and just delighted with the fact I was going to be a mommy. The entire nine months seemed to be perfect: no complications, little complaints - it was practically test book perfect.

Then labour.

4:45am, of my due date, August 21, I woke up with pretty strong contractions and by noon I had bared just about enough of what I could and we headed to the hospital, but not before I insisted that Mike stopped to get money for parking. God knows why I thought we would have to pay to enter the lot.

From our arrival at labour and delivery to about 2 hours later, I had progressed 2cm… seemingly, everything was right on track for Carter’s arrival that evening. I was able to have an epidural almost immediately, which I was so grateful for, but by 4pm I was noticing my ability to feel contractions was returning on my right side, and increasing steadily. No amount of moving or twisting would relieve the pain. I remember begging for the anesthesiologist to come back and do something about it and my requests being met with contemplation and delay. Not until the tears began would they do anything about my requests.

I must tell you, I know now that my pain tolerance is not as high as I had thought. I mean, I can handle being banged around a little and can take my share of friendly beatings. But the pain of labour? Not for me. I am practically incapacitated by menstrual pains, so this? This was no walk in the park for me.

Once the anesthesiologist came back to adjust the catheter things seemed to be back on track.

But I was wrong.

My epidural ceased to work at all, and wouldn’t that be the time the anesthesiologist would be called into a C-section? Perfect. From then to whenever she should come back, I was forced to go natural.

Tell me? Why do they insists on lying about how long the wait is going to be? How does that ever help the situation? They should be like pizza delivery - 40 minutes or it’s free or something like that. 40 minutes and then you get an extra hit of any drug of your choice.

After the contractions came on full force and I could feel everything, I had the nurse kick everyone out of the room.

Including Mike.

Then I waited.

And waited.

Tune in tomorrow to find out if my nurse survived…

I had a snow day today. Not that there was TONS of snow, but the perfect combination of snow and ice plus a husband stuck out of town which made it impossible for me to get out of the driveway and on my way to work this morning.

Carter and I hung out in our pajamas for the morning playing with his building blocks and train table. I normally shy away from being any form of entertainment for my child, I’d rather he develop an independent personality and have the ability to entertain himself. Though, with this new baby on the way, I’ve been feeling a little melancholy about the idea of having to share; normal feelings, I know. I just feel that I haven’t given Carter enough of the one on one time that he deserves and now it’s going to be cut back more when the baby gets here.

We snuggled, shared grapes and laughed at each other’s silly faces all morning while many of my adult counterparts struggled through the miles of horrible traffic and frigid temperatures.

Snow days rock!

During nap time I was able to have time to sit down and complete a design for a very patient client. A wonderful, caring and sympathetic lady who let me delay her design until I was feeling well enough to get back at it. I can’t tell you how great it felt to put my mushy mom/pregnancy brain to work again. I can’t get enough of the challenges of troubleshooting during designing. I just wish that my skills were strong enough to get me some full time work in the field. I fear that if I was to try and take designing on as a full time job, the stress of finding work and paying the bills would ruin it for me. I enjoy that I don’t rely on the income and that I can take my time making sure that it’s something I’m proud to sell someone.

I am feeling more and more like my old self these days. I can’t even explain what a relief that is!

Soother, binky, dummy, doh-doh, pacifier, or sooie (sue - e) as we call it.Either way, they are no longer used in The House of Me. Carter has been nearly two weeks Sooie free in preparation for his move up to the Jr. Pre-school class at daycare. Surprisingly, it was not as difficult to get him over it as we had initially thought it would be.

Nights where he would NOT sleep without Sooie. Nights of screaming and crying and carrying on while we withheld the wondrous sucking apparatus. That’s what I envisioned. I was terrified to try and start the extraction process, but it seems that we’ve let it run it’s course and he no longer asks for it. Simple as that.

As you scoff at me and the simplicity of the situation, I’ll let you in on what we did - completely un-choreographed.

One day I put him down for nap sans Sooie. He kept insisting for it, not wailing and carrying on as I suspected he might, but insisting nonetheless. I had no idea where a single Sooie was and just didn’t want to look for one because I’m so damn lazy. I told him that I would look for one and be right back.

I lied.

I just left and didn’t return.

He fell asleep.

Following Christmas holidays, when Carter returned to daycare, they didn’t have one there for him. At nap time they simple told him; “Mommy forgot to send one today.” and so he put his little head down and slept.

No qualms.

There has been no request since.

Don’t hate me just yet, it’s just luck I think. The next kid will be a complete nightmare.

For those that don’t do the transition as well as Carter has (so far) there are other rituals that parents may follow to empower their children to feel as though they are the ones making the decision to forego the soother.

One thing that I learned about, which I thought was totally fun! and awesome! was the Pacifier Tree in Denmark.

The Pacifier Tree, originally uploaded to Flickr by peff.

There is a tree where children come with their parents to give their Sooies to the Pacifier Fairy - a kind of closure for the children I suppose.

What have you done to get your little one to give up the pacifier?

Look for the follow up in a couple days where I’ll tell you about MY transition from thumb sucking.

I still remember it well, since it wasn’t that long ago.