tricycle video triune

After last weekend's hubbub, things have slowed down a good bit and returned to what has become the new "normal" around here. Contractors are traipsing through the house trying to get the bathroom done, we finally have people addressing the squirrel(s?) in the attic (and they actually saw one go in, so it's a relief to have identified the main entry point). Meanwhile, the city arborist has given us the go-ahead to remove the dying ash tree in our backyard. So once we get the advice of a consulting arborist (tomorrow) on how the dying roots will affect our foundation, it looks like our landscaping friends will be back out in an effort to spare our house, our neighbor's house, and the fence from future crushing.

We've been rather homebound because of all the contract work happening right now, but thankfully Josephine developed an infatuation with her tricycle just in time. Our living room has been set up in track formation for a week and a half, and if I move the ladder away from my fireplace painting job, she quickly requests that I return her "tunnel" to the "street" so she can ride her tricycle under it. She even does her blanket time on her tricycle now.

Actually, for the sake of documenting this kind of thing, I'd say for at least the last month or so, blanket time has unofficially morphed into a situation where she has full access to any place in the living room. I only remind her it's "blanket time" if she runs off into the other room or starts trying to engage too much, as the main idea is for it to remain independent play time. She's reached a stage where she plays better independently with boundaries expanded beyond the physical blanket. The blanket boundaries that used to foster focus eventually became constraining instead-- her focus on playing was actually being stifled by being overly focused on the blanket. Thankfully, the expanded boundaries work because our living room is a sunken, easily defined space, with only one opening to it, and she still identifies blanket time with independent play. Of course, it does mean that I pretty much have to avoid the living room the whole time, or else she looses focus and starts wanting to play with me. But that's okay. Picking my battles, and all. On whole, blanket time has been an effective institution; it did give the boundaries she needed for a long time, and even now as those boundaries relax, we have a situation where she is accustomed to creative, independent play for a good 30 minutes after each meal, and we still have common terminology that I can use to enforce it.

Anyway, that rabbit trail began with discussing her tricycle blanket time, and the whole point of this post was to link to three little videos of her riding her tricycle. I tried uploading them to the blog itself, but like usual, that only seems to work for very brief clips. So here are the links to the videos on youtube. Just click on each word and you should be able to see the video.

An Accident

An Accent

An Actual Ride

what a weekend!

As I mentioned in my last post, Sean was in town last weekend. The father-daughter team did a supreme job wearing each other out and thoroughly enjoying every minute of it.

Here are a couple photos Sean got on his phone. Their long-awaited hot chocolate date:

I know-- scary, right?

They also ate out a few times (Taco Deli, Easy Tiger, and kebabs at Mueller), played at the Mueller playground, rode the city train downtown and back (in an effort to prep her for the NY subway), and took a trip on the little train down by Barton Springs:

In the meantime, I managed to get a good deal done on my projects around the house (bathroom ceilings painted, stairwell insulated, coats of paint above the fireplace, and on kitchen wall, trim, and upper cabinets). Then on Saturday we went out for a family dinner to Buenos Aires Cafe in East Austin to celebrate our weekend together and the whole having-a-boy thing.

Additionally, my dad and brother had birthdays last week, and though we couldn't be there in person, it's always exciting to celebrate another healthy year and look forward to more! Here are some photos from Darla's camera...

I love Janell's excitement!

Then to top off a string of excellent days, Sunday brought the news that my sister, Darla, is engaged! Brad popped the question Saturday, and we're all delighted!

Congratulations to the adorable couple!!!

We are an XY, XX, XX, aaaaand...

... an XY!!!

Yep, you got it! Looks like in July we'll be evening out the score a bit around here. And no, I don't mean Sean will no longer be outnumbered by females, I mean that I will no longer be outnumbered by Seans! Because, you see, I am convinced this little boy's going to look like ME. My logic is infallible:

A) Josephine is a girl and looks exactly like Sean. A boy, therefore, should not. Which clearly leaves me as the parent-of-influence.

B) The pregnancy with Josephine brought a great deal of nausea, and this one has had nearly none. It's been tremendously easy, and I'm convinced it's because this kid is just genetically more compatible with me. In other words, my body recognizes him as one of my offspring and hosts him willingly, whereas my body didn't recognize Josephine as such, and now that I've seen her, I understand why. I'm still not sure any of my genetic material made it into her DNA.

C) IT'S MY TURN to have a kid that looks like me. IT WOULDN'T BE FAIR if he also looks like Sean.

D) God doesn't give us more than we can handle, and I can't handle being surrounded by three Seans. God, in his infinite wisdom, knows this.

Soooo, here's to my son! My future mini-me! Hooray! Cheers!!!

We found all this out on Thursday. Since Sean was going to be in town this weekend, I bumped up my 20 week ultrasound to 18 weeks, so that we could process the gender news in person together, rather than long-distance over the phone. The whole thing was a surprise for Sean; I hadn't told him I'd changed the appointment date, as he hates the anticipation involved in finding out big news, and I didn't want to add anxiety to his trip back home. (He did want to find the gender out ahead of time, though. He just didn't want to be involved in the finding out. Direct any questions at him. I don't pretend to understand these nuances!)

Thankfully, the baby cooperated during the ultrasound, and the tech was very confident as she wrote down the news in a card and sealed it up with the gender photos. Even though I'm sure she does this sort of thing all the time, she still got a kick out of her role in this and kept instructing me "DON'T look inside! DON'T look at the DVD!"

After Sean got home and we'd had some time to reconnect, I had him open it, still not telling him what news contained. (YES, on one hand it was very difficult to wait knowing the information was an envelope away all afternoon, but on the other hand, I still got to find out two weeks ahead of schedule, so that was quite the easy way to console my nerves!) And the whole process was thoroughly rewarded by getting to see the look on his face when he found out, and then getting to share our excitement together in person.

Of course, most importantly, the ultrasound revealed Numero Dos as completely healthy and measuring right on target. My stats and fundal height are all great, too, and I also learned that the placenta is indeed right in the front which is why I haven't felt the baby moving around nearly as much as I felt Josephine, as it absorbs all the kicks and blows.

I was also told not to be concerned about all the pain I've been having to the left of my tailbone; apparently the aches just set in earlier with second pregnancies. Since the uterus expands more rapidly this go around, the baby's already pushing on my coccyx. I've found that some positions relieve the pain, like dropping to my knees and putting my head near the floor. While that does indeed help get the pressure off the tailbone region, it's not exactly a pose I'm keen on striking out in public, so there's a fair amount of discomfort I just have to endure.

Those are the times I remind myself that it's a small price to pay to add a little Haigler to the mix around here! ;-) Bring on the boy!

an ash wednesday alleluia

I think technically yesterday was our last chance to say Alleluia for a while, but that memo wasn't sent to two year olds. Here's a quick snippet from her quiet time melodies:

all put back together again

The guys finished up the landscaping work the other day; they did a great job, and just in time for buckets of rain to fall. I had to keep reminding myself that I could ENJOY the rain, now, without worrying about it pooling against the house! It was such a relief. We ended up with standing rain in all the other usual places, but the herb bed drained beautifully. Hooray!

I have also learned, though, that the huge tree visible in the top two photos is dying; it has reached the end of its lifespan. Bark is falling off the base and wood is rotting... so that is quite a huge project that has been added to the list as well. We are in the process of getting a permit for the removal of it, as Austin has a heritage tree program that protects large trees (even ones threatening to destroy two houses and a fence, it seems.)
But hey, let's refocus-- the living room is flood-free. That's a huge step forward!!

i LOOK pregnant.

(17.5 weeks)

... or maybe that's all the Chinese food I just ate.

Cheese!

Are you SURE I'm pregnant?

Believe it or not, I'm 17 weeks along with Numero Dos. It's a 5 inch ball from head to rump and according to BabyCenter.com everything is getting stronger and thicker, from the umbilical cord to the skeleton.

I have JUST now started feeling random movements, very faintly and unpredictably-- but enough to where I feel increasingly certain that it's the baby I'm feeling. By this time with Josephine, I was aware of full fledged gymnastics routines going on in there-- and had been for a while-- so it's felt like a looong time coming with this one.

That could be explained by the the placenta being in a different place, maybe, or also just the extra padding I never got rid of after the first pregnancy. Who knows. Regardless, the lack of quickening in addition to the fact that I was just barely nauseous with this one has made this the most low-maintenance pregnancy imaginable. I frequently find myself questioning the whole thing-- I do not feel pregnant! I feel busy and distracted by a thousand other demands, my mind is always a million miles away from Numero Dos, and without the kicks in the gut or nausea, nothing really convinces me that there IS a 5 inch ball of baby inside. Except, of course, my expanding waistline.

Which brings me to another odd facet of this pregnancy-- I absolutely LOVED my growing tummy the first time around, but this time I find that my automatic reaction to it is one of total frustration! I think that without the other instinctive reminders of the fact I'm pregnant, I feel disconnected from the belly. I don't look at it and see baby-- I catch a glimpse of it in the mirror and see weight gain and feel fat! Even though I've only gained 3 pounds this entire pregnancy so far (which might sound like a point of pride, but it's not-- it's what is expected from someone who starts out weighing more than they ought to).

Anyway, I think the BabyCenter e-mails are a bit weird; I like knowing each week what the size of the baby is and what's going on-- but how exactly do they choose which details to highlight? For instance, this week, they seemed keen to inform me that the baby is developing sweat glands. Okay, awesome. The weirdness aside, though, I admit I really like these e-mails this time around if for no other reason than they are like my weekly reminder that I'm pregnant. There is a database in cyberspace that has the utmost faith in the progress of this pregnancy, even though my own certainty about it and connection to it is weak. That's reassuring, right?

Okay, that's all for now. There are other updates to give, but no time for that. Just needed to take a few minutes to remind myself, my husband, and the general public that there is a fledgling fetus on board. There is one. (BabyCenter says so.)

Don't forget.

pretty in pink

When we had new countertops installed, Josephine went on a kick where she'd tell me constantly that when she gets bigger, she's going to get new PINK countertops. And she would have pink floors and pink walls and pink this and that. Yes, the whole house would be pink. She does not even have an iota of me in her genetic material, I'm sure of it.

This one is my favorite:

They gave her a balloon at the restaurant we ate at after church. She also had a few M&Ms there. As a result of this doubly-induced euphoria, all the way home, she sang "I love you so much" over and over in the sweetest tone you can imagine. (I was swooning and considering feeding her chocolate every meal for the rest of her life, until I realize she was singing to the balloon, not me.)

landscaping update

So the flooded living room I mentioned earlier is being addressed via the landscaping skills of some folks we know who own San Isidro. They're making quick work, and I'm relieved that it's being addressed properly and without any back-breaking of my own. Josephine's been pretty excited, too-- thoroughly enjoying all the activity outside the living room windows-- even finding hats to match the style worn by the guys (stocking cap the first day, baseball cap the second). When she woke up from her nap and discovered they were gone, she was heartbroken but eventually consoled by the fact they would be returning Monday.

Inspecting their work...

Smiling in a picture "for dad":

Bored with the dirt trench... moving on to filthier things...

playdough

When she breaks out the play-doh I know I'm going to have to sing Happy Birthday about fifty times, but other than that it's a pretty awesome past time lately. Holds her attention for quite a while and allows me to putter around doing things without interrogation, supervision, or being micromanaged.

A while back I made some from scratch, but it's colorless and unfortunately, about 50 times messier, so I'm not exactly motivated to insist that she use that over the store bought stuff that she got for Christmas from a friend. Maybe I just didn't have a good recipe. Open to suggestions.

4:84

Jason's Ruination of his Sister via his Niece Tactic #4: Redefining Reality

This one's less original, Jason. No less effective when employed on a persistent basis... but really, you're stooping to the level of plain old psychological abuse. If I were to grade your efforts at ruining me, you'd be docked several points for lack of creativity.

The conversations go like this...

Me: Josephine, our floor is cold, you need to wear slippers or socks and shoes. Which one do you want?

J: No, the floor isn't cold.

Me: Yes, it IS cold.

J: But the carpet isn't cold.

Me: You will eventually walk off the carpet though, and the tile is freezing. You cannot have bare feet.

J: My feet aren't cold.

Me: But they will be; the floor is very cold.

J: No, it's not cold. My feet are okay.

Me: Josephine, I have my feet on the floor and I can tell it's cold. I KNOW it's cold. You need slippers or socks and shoes.

J: No, it isn't cold. I don't need them. (she walks over to the tile) See? My feet are fine. It's not cold.

.... similarly...

Me: Josephine, it's cold outside-- you need to wear a coat. Or a hat.

J: No, it's not cold outside. It's a little bit cold, a little bit warm.

Me: I just checked the weather, it's 46 degrees. It's too cold for just a shirt.

J: But see? My shirt has sleeves. I'm all warm.

Me: Let me feel your hands. Your hands are freezing. You need a coat or sweater or hat. Which one do you want?

J: I'm NOT cold; it's not cold outside.

... or....

Me: Eat the sausage, too.

J: This sausage is spicy.

Me: It's not spicy sausage, it's plain. (By the way, I'm extremely sensitive to spice-- even more so than she is.)

J: Yes it's spicy. It's too spicy. It's very, very spicy.

These conversations have a theme: it's something sensory and yet not subjective. I am in possession of the objective facts and-- I like to believe-- good judgment regarding those facts.

If there is room for doubting my experience of something, I will hear out her disagreement-- but that's not what is happening here. She is disagreeing with me on things that I shouldn't have to defend, and she is doing it with an innocent expression and whole-hearted belief in her own view on the matter. She's persistent enough that if I haven't fully donned my hardened parental exterior for the day, I actually start to believe her.

Case in point, two days ago (when I wrote this) she had just come in from playing outside, in 46 degree temps, no sunshine, and her choice activity was splashing around in frigid water pooled in her wagon. She had on pants and a sweatshirt and boots, but that's all, and her face was pinched and cold and hands bright red and nearly frostbitten, I'm sure. They felt like ice.

This looks like bad parenting. Sure. But it's not, I tell you-- it's CONFUSED parenting. It's what happens when your child has successfully victimized you by endlessly undermining your convictions! I held to my judgment about the cold weather and her needing additional layers for the first few minutes of the debate, but her version of reality was SO persistent that I slowly became convinced that maybe she was somehow right. In the end, she went out with nothing extra on, and I stood in the doorway numbly mulling over the possibility that maybe I was just being overly sensitive to the chilly weather.

Yes, it's pathetic that a two year old can so frequently cause me to wonder what's wrong with me and why I am experiencing things so incorrectly. But when you're challenged on EVERYTHING, and being told you're version is incorrect ALL DAY LONG, (and on the spectrum of topics, at least some of them are truly debatable)... well, eventually nothing's black and white. Your brain is no longer capable of holding fast to any truth.

At least her challenges haven't strayed into religion and politics yet... Hopefully by then I won't be so easily defeated...

misc.

A couple cute pictures from early January...

... and a reminder to myself to be more vigilant about taking photos of Josephine. Yes, things have been chaotic, but I'll regret it later if I continue to let weeks pass at a time without taking her picture!

Christmas 2011

I figure if I'm finding time to rant, I ought to make the time to finish putting up Christmas photos. ;-)

I insisted that the Sims take a family photo this year:

The standard Haigler photo:

3:84

Note: Don't worry. This can't possibly turn into an 84 part griping session. Even my brother couldn't teach Josephine to be THAT difficult.

I don't think.

Jason's Ruination of his Sister via his Niece Tactic #3 : Spontaneous Helplessness

What's up with this latest tactic of declaring that she suddenly can't do something? Within the last 24 hours we've had both these conversations:

Josephine: Moooom, I caaan't pick up my spoon to eat my vegetables.

Me: Really? Can you pick it up to eat your pasta?

J: Yes. I can.

Me: Then do the same thing to eat the vegetables.

J: I caaaan't! See? My hand-- it's here-- it can't go there. (as she demonstrates how her hand is apparently frozen to the tip of the spoon and therefore can't hold it properly)

Or last night's conversation....

Josephine: But I can't get in bed!

Me: Yes you can, you do it all the time.

J: No, I CAN'T!! I need the cushion.

Me: Here's the cushion. Climb into bed. It's nighttime.

J: I CAN'T!! I can't get my foot up on the cushion!! I can't get in bed!

Me: Okay, I'll put you in bed. (as I pick her up and put her in bed.)

J: (screaming) NOOOO don't put me in bed!! I want to do it MYSELF!!!!!!!

Me: (miraculously not screaming) Okay, then do it yourself. Try again.

J: (after scrambling out of bed and standing next to the cushion) I can't get in bed!! See my foot can't go up!!!

These are the abbreviated versions of the conversations. You would not BELIEVE how many times she alternated between "I get in bed myself!" and "I can't do it!" back to back that night. It bewilders me what must be happening in her brain at a time like that. If the confused verbal outpouring is any indication, it must be total chaos in there.

I need a trained child psychologist working full-time in my home; I am no match for this.

And then on the other hand, I don't really want that, as it would probably just end up incriminating me as a terrible parent who is somehow ruining this poor soul. "Yes, Ms. Sims, your child is avoiding these simple tasks out of sense of feeling overwhelmed and stressed. The minuscule portion of vegetables you put on her plate that night was just too much for her at that moment in time. By now you should have developed the prophetic powers necessary to know that ahead of time. You have failed on all counts and effectively rendered her with multiple personality disorder all due to her attempts to categorize her responses to various overwhelming food groups. She will need therapy the rest of her life. Way to go. And you say you're having another one? Poooooor unborn child."

Yeah, I'll avoid the professional opinions for now. I'd be committed in no time and that'd make my brother entirely too pleased with himself.

Part 2 of 84

According to my brother, he has provided Josephine with 84 ways by which she can further his lifelong efforts of driving me insane, and the conversation I mentioned in my last post was merely the first of these 84 genius methods.

Now that I know he's behind this, I will hold Josephine less accountable and publicly direct my annoyance to him.

For instance, it is also NOT cool, Jason, that you taught to her verbally excuse her verbal excess. My ears are WORN OUT. If I tell her, over and over, "Josephine, stop talking and eat your breakfast. We're going to be late." She just continues talking. Similar to the conversation in the prior post, I have to say it several times before she registers my request, at which point she reacts by ignoring her breakfast entirely and launching into a diatribe about why she MUST continue talking, how she is ALSO eating her breakfast, and several other paragraphs seemingly related to assuring me she has it all under control. Meanwhile, 5 more minutes have passed without her taking another bite.

Naturally, I interrupt her at various points and say, "STOP talking. EAT." Which I should learn not to do, because it only triggers her to begin the explanation all over again.

And no, leaving the room doesn't help. The child doesn't technically need an audience for her monologues. She just rattles on unmonitored.

The same thing happens in car rides, in the grocery store, on walks, at bedtime, every time she enters or exits a room, every time I enter or exit a room, or simply because I shifted my position and she's curious about why and whether there might be something else I could do to more fully engage with her.

In other words, not a single waking moment passes silently. Occasionally -- very rarely -- she goes on a whispering kick, and I get downright giddy as my eardrums dance with relief. I'm serious, it's elating and joyous. I LOVE her whispers. I even start giggling. Which is something else I should learn not to do, as it only distracts her from whispering and elicits a normal volume interrogation about my giggling. At which point I feel like weeping.

Which is followed by a general concern over my high levels of emotional irregularity and the fact that somewhere between her 5,639th word of the day and the 3 millionth one, I stopped feeling human altogether.

Sigh.

So Jason, she has mastered technique number two. You'd better start saving, because when I end up on medication I'm forwarding the bills to you.

prescription for insanity

This is a conversation repeated frequently around here:

Me: Do you need help?

Josephine: No. I can do it myself.

Me: Oh good. Okay, you do it.

J: I can do it myself!

Me: Okay, go ahead.

J: I can do it!!

Me: Alright, go ahead and do it.

J: I CAN DO IT.

Me: Okay, Josephine. You can do it.

J: I can do it.

Me: You do it.

J: I can do it myself.

Me: Okay, go do it!

J: I can do it!

Me: I know. You do it.

J: I can DO IT.

Me: JOSEPHINE. OKAY. GO DO IT!!!

J: I do it! I do it! I do it! I do it! (as she FINALLY scampers off to do whatever it is)

Me: (silent scream... frantic search for lost composure... deep breathing... prayers that sound like a desperate, "Why? Why?? Why????")

As much as I try to pretend like I'm in control around here, I have the vague sense that I'm just a pawn in this game.

It's as though, through sheer stubbornness, I persist in believing that we're playing according to rules of logic, schedules, predictability, cause and effect... and meanwhile she's schooling me royally through manipulative button-pushing and plain exhaustion.

I'm ready for the age when she starts to play fair.

Just around the corner, right?