I’m tired lately. Really tired. But I don’t have a newborn at home and I have a toddler that’s almost 2 and still takes 2 naps a day and sleeps 12 hours at night. On the surface, I realize that I have nothing to complain about. And I’m actually not complaining.

But see, it’s more than the sleep. It’s toddler-hood that’s wearing me out. Let me preface it by saying that I really am knee deep in my favorite time so far with darling daughter. In particular, over the course of the past three weeks, she has morphed from what I’d consider still baby level communication skills to “real person” communication skills. She talks, she responds when I explain things, she tells me when she’s a “big girl” as she’s drinking from a regular cup or peeing on the potty. She understands that her grandmom went “up” in a “plane” (to Holland, that part she doesn’t get) and wonders when she’s coming “home.” I mean – it’s remarkable when you’re used to talking to smiling blob and wondering if you sound like Charlie Brown’s mother. It’s actually a huge adjustment.

But as you’ve seen me blog about many times already, it’s not just the fast pace of toddlerhood (running constantly when awake, never time to rest) but it’s the emotional energy required to keep up with the tantrums and the fits and the screaming that really gets to me. I’ve gotten really good at letting it roll off my back, not reacting, and just calmly telling her she’s OK. Somtimes when it’s a particularly obvious fake scream, I make the same noise back at her and she stops, realizes how obnoxious it is and laughs.

The other thing she’s just added to her repetoire is assuring herself she’s “OK” before she freaks out. It’s adorable, really. I’ll see her on the edge of the slope, about to just fall off into the depths of toddler tantrum hell and she’ll breathe for a second and repeat “Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok” and then move on. Crisis averted, this time.

But see, I’m realizing that learning how to handle the tantrums is much more complex than managing how your child is behaving (which is almost a misnomer) because it’s about managing how you are behaving. And in particular, as you reach the end of a long week when you’ve been working long hours and handling lots of stress at work, it’s really challenging to constantly be taking deep breaths and remain cool, calm and collected yourself while DD is behaving in a less than desirable way.

It’s clear to me that we’ve reached the point in parenthood where we are constantly setting the example and beginning to shape her character and so, if one of us behaves badly to her, or someone else, then how can we expect her to behave otherwise?

Furthermore, being consistent is no longer a small feat. Sure, with a baby, it’s real easy to set a schedule and everyone knows you feed Junior every 3 hours and we can all stick to the plan. But sometimes it’s easier to let DD eat some fruit in a bowl in front of the TV because you just don’t want to hear the fit even though your rule is only in the kitchen at the table, or maybe you realized that you have to change another behavior but forgot to inform your spouse, and he’s doing it the wrong way, and there goes consistency.

Because the toddler – they know. You’re not tricking them, they haven’t forgotten, they remember and they know when you ease up on the rules. It’s becoming clear to me that her memory is sharp as a nail and mine is, well, not. So behaving well and consistently implementing the same set of rules requires a lot of thought, patience and organization, on top of keeping up with the pace these toddlers move.

I suppose I keep writing about it because it just keeps catching me by surprise. Of the many parenting books I’ve read, one of the lines that has stayed with me the most was about how great of a parent the author was before he had kids. It amuses me to no end because I know I was the same exact way and would probably call you all liars if you claimed to have never judged parents for their poor parenting skills or thought about how easy it would be for the parent to just do X differently. 

I know we are all different but this is my blog and I feel better about how we’re doing and how we’re handling parenthood when I hear similar stories from others, and I just stumbled upon this entry in a Washington Post blog and loved reading every minute of it – my favorite is this quote:

A woman I know told me once, “You should establish early on that you’re a badder ass than your two-year-old. He’ll respect you more in the morning.”

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/09/11/AR2007091101515.html

Kittens -

I write to you today in a cry for help. Yours truly, KT, is stumped. Alas, I fear I am enabling possible germ warfare in my home. Who needs plutonium when they have eau de toddler.

Let me set the stage.

Darling daughter, like most in the toddler set, has a special blanket. In our house, we call it “Buggy,” a phrase coined by my oldest sister when she was a wee thing. Darling daughter’s buggy is near and dear to her heart. It is a pink soft blanket with the required satin trim and a small bunny attached to it. Here is the link if you are on the lookout for a good buggy: http://www.ohbabyaustin.com/Shop/Product.aspx?PID=1073

Being the clever mom that I am, I have not one but three buggy’s. KT’s friend, SelfMade Mom (www.selfmademom.net) has like 8 of these for her darling son (SMM also sent the original buggy, the very culprit of which I am speaking about today, to my DD as a gift for her arrival to this world). SMM and I, we are clever, we are always thinking ahead, we are ready for the ultimate disaster – the loss of the buggy, therefore we have an arsenal.

DD began sleeping with her buggy when she was about 4-5 months old. She liked having it next to her face and as she got older, when nap time or bed time approached, I could always count on watching her rub this buggy under her nose and her eyes roll back, as she floated off to her baby happy place, complete with the somewhat nasty buggy smell.

Now that she’s more verbal, she’ll tell me she wants to go “nigh night” and ask me for her “buggy,” and it’s really cute. But see, enter the problem.

Now that she’s older, she’s also much more attached to the buggy. And that’s fine by me, she only takes it to bed with her, but see, the buggy scent is what makes the buggy.

You got it. That sweet smell of drool and milk and dirt and sweat and who knows what else is what makes the buggy the real security blanket. And it is that very scent that is creating a problem. She will not go down with one of her other two buggy’s anymore. THEY are rejected because they are..gasp…CLEAN.

I tried one morning to trick her, I’d been keeping a second buggy in her crib so she could nuzzle against it as well and get it all good and stinky and then I could slip out the original buggy and put it in the wash. But no, that particular morning she stood up, tossed the less pungent one over the crib side and said “Buggy.”
I said, “you have your buggy, here is your buggy” and so innocently handed it back to her, feeling all clever.

And she took a whif again, tossed it again and said “No! Buggy!”

Apparently I’m really not that clever.

So off I went to retrieve the nasty one from her laundry basket, upon which she immediately sniffed it to determine its authenticity, then nestled down for a good nap.

OK then, I thought. I’ll worry about this later.

So more weeks have passed. I tried again to remove the foul buggy and leave her with only the one from the bench, but alas, she cried and cried and wouldn’t nap until the original buggy was returned to her.  Point 2 for toddler. Point 0 for mom.

And now, even more time has passed and this morning, one of the first things my husband said to me was this “You’ve got to wash her buggy, she smells nasty because of it.”

I replied “She does not smell nasty, maybe she needs to brush her teeth,” (all the while thinking maybe it’s him that smells nasty and he has two arms that he can use to wash the damn buggy as well but didn’t say.)

To which he retorted “No, it’s not her breath. It’s her hair that stinks from sleeping with that disgusting buggy all night.”

So kittens, alas, what is a mom to do? DD rejects the backup buggy’s. They are B list to her A list. If I wash it, she won’t want it. But I am preoccupied with the filth she is rubbing all over her face, the germs, the nastiness.

Seriously – what do I do? I know this is common – this is classic toddler behavior. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, right? But can I just go on for longer knowingly giving her such a foul blanket? How in the world do you convince a toddler that clean is good and still soothing?

How long can you turn a blind eye to knowingly giving your daughter a blanket that has turned from pink to black with filth – but it’s that filth that helps her sleep so well every day? What’s more important, cleanliness or sleep?

I am stumped.