Snack Cup Addict

It took me until I was about nine to have one stuffed animal that I really clung to, so I wasn’t surprised when it didn’t seem like Jacob had found an irreplaceable connection with any of his toys. He never took to a pacifier and while he sleeps with those weird blankets-with-animal-heads “lovies,” he’s not super attached to them. I thought this was just because he was such an easygoing guy, and I thought that was pretty cool of him.

This week I learned I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

True, our little boy is not attached to any stuffed animal, blanket, or pacifier. But you’ve heard the expression “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”? I think that was written about Jacob.

Operation: Fatten That Child has led me to offer Jacob snacks whenever he wants them. A while back I’d read that toddlers tend to graze and it can be tough to get them to eat full meals. So I thought the snack cup was a good idea. He snacks at home, in the stroller, in the carrier, at church, at the playground . . . everywhere. Sometimes he doesn’t even snack; he just sticks his hand in the cup and leaves it there, like he’s a modified, and less menacing Captain Hook.

It was cute for a while, but now there are times he needs to just put the snack cup down and walk away. Unfortunately, he has a grip like a vice and a will like steel. I know there’s going to be a tantrum anytime I try to take it away.

I’m hoping this is just a phase, and I really can’t wait for the day he decides to kick the habit.

Sleep Diva

A long time ago, I learned that traveling anywhere with a little one—whether it’s a short train ride to New Jersey or a cross-country flight to Los Angeles—requires a recovery day upon returning home. Jacob settles back into our home pretty easily; he’s always excited to see his toys and run around more freely again. Plus, at home he knows where the Cheerios are. But still, his sleep schedule is a little off, and his energy levels need to regulate all over again.

 

For me, the recovery is as much psychological as it is physical. Walking into an extended family member’s house and eyeing the (evil) cheese plate before I even see the host clearly puts me on edge. Add to that the fact that every greeting isn’t just, “Hi! Good to see you! Happy (Fill in appropriate greeting here)!” It’s more like “Hi! Good to see you! Happy whatever! Okay, so if you’ve eaten any cheese, or anything containing butter, milk, or any other form of dairy since you last bathed, could you not kiss or touch our child? Thanks! Really, so good to see you!”

 

And yet, no matter how hard we (family included) try, every trip means administering Benadryl at least every other day, if not every day. By the time we come home, Jacob’s skin is often like sandpaper, and it takes a few days and some heavy-duty lotion to get it back to normal. I’m starting to think Jacob’s list of allergens looks like this: dairy, eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, and travel.

 

Don’t get me wrong, Thanksgiving was a fun weekend, and we had lots of great time with family and friends. But that doesn’t make the recovery any less necessary, especially when Jacob’s sleeping habits take a turn for the dramatic.

 

The first night we were in New Jersey, we’d planned to share a room with Jacob. The translation here is that we kicked John’s brother out of his room and onto the couch. About two am, John and I got kicked out of the room, too—onto the floor. Even at home, Jacob sometimes wakes up once or twice in the night, but he can usually put himself back to sleep. Apparently, this is only the case if we’re not in the room with him.

 

The next night, we didn’t even bother trying to share a room with him. We effectively kicked John’s brother to yet another couch (thank goodness John’s family has enough couches!), so we could sleep on the furniture in the living room. I slept much better that night, but I fell asleep amazed at what a diva Jacob could be if he really wanted to. Will he ever have sleepovers?  Will his friends have to sleep in another room?

 

In the meantime, here’s a photo I talked up while we were home. I know I ranted about Christmas coming too early in the retail world, and so I have to admit that not only am I posting this Halloween-y photo a month late, but it was only taken two weeks ago. Maybe I need a calendar, too.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Things I learned in the making of this post:

It takes more than one piece of paper to fit the hand turkeys of two adults and one baby.

It is not a good idea to give a toddler crayons if you want them back . . . ever.

It is difficult to keep a fourteen-month-old child’s hand still enough to trace it. However, the wiggling may produce an incredibly well-placed beak.

I am much too enthusiastic about hand turkeys for a young woman of my age. Oh wait, I knew that before this whole thing started.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!