That should be interesting

Today I asked Daisy what she wanted to be for Halloween--an astronaut or a conductor (these choices were based on her interests of late). She said, "An astronaut." Then she thought about it and said, "No, I want to be a drawbridge."

Hmmm. I wonder where I could get that costume?

I had a pretty good day

Better than yesterday, when Daisy took no nap. Today, I put her down successfully and she slept for two and a half hours! (And... my reporting on that, triumphantly, jinxes me and ensures there will be no nap tomorrow. I'm a tad superstitious sometimes.)

In the cuteness files for today:

1) During her bath, Daisy put a cup on her hand, puzzled over the fact that her hand was now "hiding behind the cup," and then announced, "I'm wearing a space suit!" (She has a book called I Want to Be an Astronaut, in which she's endlessly fascinated by one page that features a woman climbing into a spacesuit... she's VERY interested in how the various body parts don't show when the woman's in the spacesuit, but are BEHIND the parts of the suit.) This gave me an idea for a Halloween costume, maybe; although I find it quite funny that, apparently, in her own mind all Daisy needs in order to be wearing a space suit is a cup over one of her hands.

2) Daisy has started fearing the part of the bath in which I dump water over her head to wash the shampoo off. Understandable. Tonight, I found it endearing that she comforted herself out loud while I was doing the rinsing: "Don't worry. Don't worry. She will be dry soon," she repeatedly murmured to herself.

Today's scorecard

Merry-go-round rides: 175*
Naps: 0
Mama: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa





*Margin of error: about 100

Well, that phase is over

I've reported in the past on Daisy's fear of merry-go-rounds. One time at the Golden Gate Park carousel, she cried the entire ride (even though we were on a stationary bench); last time, with Adele, she wouldn't go on the ride at all, which was fine with me, except that it was painful to watch her struggle-- I think she half wanted to go on, and half didn't. So she kept running up and saying she would get on and ride "all by herself," then running back to the bench and saying she would just watch. She went back and forth a few times, and then finally decided on the bench, although she looked agitated the whole time, as if still torn between her conflicting impulses. But we enjoyed waving to Adele every time she went by.

Today, we got to the park and Daisy immediately ran up to the carousel, saying she wanted to go on "all by herself" again. I had heard this song and dance before, and I'd left my money in the car--so I asked the guy operating the carousel if we could just go in and look around, assuring him that she would not actually ride. Ha! Daisy seemed to have a strong will and purpose today; she said not only that she WOULD ride all by herself, but that she would ride the chicken, specifically. (Ooh, I guess that had symbolic value... hadn't thought of that before. DAISY is the big chicken! But today, she RODE the chicken, conquering and controlling it!)

Usually she starts crying when we even step up on the platform, so I was surprised when she made it that far... then I lifted her up on the chicken (the rooster, actually), and she was STILL smiling. I stood there nervously, waiting for the ride to start, because I was positive that when we started moving, THEN she would start crying. No. She beamed the whole time.

I had to go back to the car, get my money, and pay the carousel guy for the ride... and then Daisy rode four or five more times, twice with her friend Lulu. I wish I had taken pictures. One phobia down! I wonder what will be next?

"He's running for the kids!"

Daisy practices conducting

Daisy's testing

We have started a process of getting some testing done on Daisy, relative to her diagnosis of urticaria pigmentosa... some of you probably don't know what I'm talking about, so I'll back up. Ever since she was a few months old, Daisy has had some dark spots on her trunk and diaper area. For awhile, they seemed to be multiplying, but then they seemed to level off. A dermatologist diagnosed this as "urticaria pigmentosa," a condition that ranges from not serious at all to extremely serious; in the not-serious cases, the spots should fade away eventually (possibly not till she's about 18, however), and in more serious cases, there can be problems with internal organs and even cancer.

When the dermatologist initially made the diagnosis, she told me she didn't think Daisy had the serious kind, although blood testing could help make sure of it. I'm not positive how this happened, but somehow it seems we never got those blood tests. I must have allowed myself to be reassured by hearing the dermatologist's opinion... but we never followed up. For a series of reasons too long-winded to go into, I decided to do the blood test recently, and it happened on Friday. It was HORRIBLE. We asked to have someone at the lab who was good with children, and instead they gave us (I quote Mark) a female prison guard. She was so harsh and no-nonsensey, and blaming of us when Daisy cried. Mark was supposed to hold Daisy in such a way that she absolutely could not move, which of course freaked her out, and then they stuck her in a vein that was too small and tortured her for awhile, finally concluding they couldn't get enough blood... she was screaming and crying by then and almost throwing up. Then they looked at her other arm and saw a much better vein--hallelujah! We wondered later why they didn't look at both arms FIRST, and try to determine which would be better to go for.

This time they got enough blood, thank God. The testing is for a level of a certain protein in her blood--tryptase--which will indicate whether it's likely she has a condition called mastocytosis, associated with the urticaria.

The bright lining on the whole unpleasant experience was that, down in the lobby of Kaiser, there were two women playing harp and recorder. Daisy was enthralled; as you may know, Daisy is fascinated by orchestral music right now and the harp is her favorite instrument. We watched for awhile, and we bought the women's CD-- proceeds go toward bringing more live music to hospitals, which seems like a great idea. It was very touching to see the way various people in the hospital were responding to this music.

Daisy has been listening to her harp CD and practicing conducting the music... I may post some video demonstrating her conducting skills.

We get the results of the blood test in a week, but unfortunately, they may not tell us anything definite; they may only simply point the way toward whatever next test is called for. I'm not sure we can go through with a whole bunch more testing, if it's going to be this agonizing every time... well, it will depend on how crucial it really seems to be. I think we're going to consult another dermatologist and try to find out how crucial it is, after we get the results of this blood test.

Good manners

Today when I offered Daisy some dried blueberries, she said, "Thank you, my dear," as she accepted them.

Daisy had a lot of fun this morning running around with Henry, riding on bicycles (she didn't pedal, but she pushed with her feet), chasing each other around, doing the "Stop and go" game, and playing with dumptrucks in the sandbox. She was so pooped out that she fell asleep in the car, AND... I successfully transferred her from the car to the crib just now! I am in elation!

Adele's visit

At the playground and carousel in Golden Gate Park

Heavy duty dumping, part two

I have to report this: Daisy asked me a few minutes ago to change her diaper. I asked her if she had pooped, and she said yes, specifying that it was "huge." When I took the diaper off, however, there was nothing there. "You didn't poop after all," I said. She replied, "It's not huge. It's tiny. TEENY tiny."

And third but not least, today when we were driving home, Daisy let out a yell. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, "I screwed up!" I realized instantly that I do this all the time; I make some noise of consternation and then say, "I screwed up."

Okay, she is climbing on me, must go.

"Heavy-duty dumping!"

That is what Daisy was yelling when she played in the river in Healdsburg yesterday (picture below). She was fairly timid about the river, but did wade almost all the way out to the buoys with me (we were in a roped-in toddler section of the river). Other wilder kids were running around splashing violently and flinging mudballs, but Daisy only did a little splashing. She preferred to do her "swimming like a mermaid"--a game she invented in which she puts her hands down on the sand, or the floor of the tub, and floats her legs out in back of her. She had a bucket and a sand shovel, and when she sloshed the sand and water into the bucket and then dumped it periodically, she would shout, "Heavy duty dumping!"

I later found a reference to a "heavy duty dump truck" in one of her books, and it must have been where she got her inspiration. All the time now, she'll say something that mystifies me and I later find it in one of her books. For example, when she and Henry were chasing each other around the library last Thursday, she was shouting something over and over again that turned out to be "Splash, tumble, gush"--a phrase in one of her books that I had read to her maybe twice, and not particularly emphasized. It's very interesting to see, now, what sticks in her memory.

Balloons and opera

Daisy's love for balloons is so intense that it is actually a little disturbing. I am not sure how much I want to elaborate on that... but just suffice it to say, when she has a balloon, she holds on to it ALL DAY LONG, and would like to eat, sleep, and bathe with it; that when it passes away, she continues to ask for it for weeks; and that when something jeopardizes it--as in last night, when her balloon got caught in the ceiling fan--she bursts into tears.

Also, OPERA. My mother bought Daisy a video of various short classical music pieces, and Daisy burst into tears listening to a Puccini aria. The next night she begged to hear it again, and we were apprehensive about what might happen, but this time her eyes just welled with tears that did not brim over, and she asked to hear it twice in a row.

EDIT:
The last two times she watched the aria, she said, "The cow is NOT going to cry" (the cartoon cow singing the aria).

Dude, that came out of you?

Is what Mark told me the other day one of his rock and roll friends said to him when he showed him a picture of Daisy.

Oh. I am? Cookie Monster was my favorite.

You Are Bert

Extremely serious and a little eccentric, people find you lovable - even if you don't love them! You are usually feeling: Logical - you rarely let your emotions rule you You are famous for: Being smart, a total neat freak, and maybe just a little evil How you life your life: With passion, even if your odd passions (like bottle caps and pigeons) are baffling to others

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Of course I can

You Can Definitely Spot a Liar

Maybe you have good instincts. Or maybe you just have a lot of experience with liars. Either way, it's pretty hard for someone to pull a fast one on you. You're like a human lie detector.

Can You Spot a Liar?

Little convo from today

Daisy (watching vehicles go by from the car): Daisy wants to ride on the bus!
Me: Okay, we can ride on a bus soon.
Daisy: The bassoon is in the woodwind section!

She is cracking me up so much with this orchestra business. Some of it makes no sense-- like today at the playground she was saying, "The ramp is in the brass section." Or she'll say, "I want to go outside and see the brass section!" She also told me, yesterday in the bath, that Mommy and Daddy were in the brass section, and Gommy and Gompy and Nana were in the percussion section. Soooo... I think she kind of gets it. And kind of not.

Oink oink

I read to Daisy ALL...THE...TIME. Inevitably, you end up asking yourself why you are drawn to certain books and why your heart just sinks when she comes at you with an entreating smile and THAT one held out. Obviously, some narratives are just more engrossing for adults to read than others, but sometimes a very simple story can be quite appealing. No doubt, too, beautiful illustrations to feast the eyes upon are enticing for me as the reader. But after giving it a tiny bit of thought, I have decided that only one rule universally applies:

I do not like making animal noises.

There are some GREAT books with animal noises, so don't get me wrong-- if the book is a good one, I will absolutely read it and make the animal noises. It's just, that's not my favorite thing to do. For some reason, it really tires me out. I always feel like I have to OINK and NEIGH and CLUCK with great enthusiasm and spirit, to make it fun for Daisy, and also because you just sound like an idiot if you're making animal noises in a flat, mechanical way. You either have to go for it or be a complete failure. It takes energy. And, early in the morning, I simply don't feel like oinking spiritedly.

Yet I am the worst offender... I am always checking books out of the library for Daisy that have animal noises in them. I am my own worst enemy. My own worst animal noise-making enemy. Quack quack.

First words heard over the baby monitor at 6:15 AM

(As if in mid-conversation): "...no, that is NOT in the brass section!"

My favorite face

Sometimes I look at her and my heart hurts and I want to cry.

It's good taste!

When Daisy likes a food, she has been saying, "It's good taste!" (Or, maybe, "It's a good taste"--I'll have to listen more carefully.) Daisy does not hesitate to offer her opinion on anything and she has very strong aesthetic preferences. For many months now, she instructs us to "press" the CD player till we get to a song she likes, and then she tells us authoritatively, "That's a good one."

Daisy feels very strongly about books and music. This girl is a lover of the arts, and really of her own accord. She decided by herself that she liked a piece of classical music-- to prove to you that I didn't push it on her, I actually don't even know what it's called. She heard it and she liked it. Now, she has to hear it over and over again, and dance whenever it is on, and pretend to conduct it. When the whole orchestra comes in and the music starts to swell, she sometimes gets so excited that she screams and has a kind of whole-body spasm. "That's the violins! THE VIOLINS!" she will shriek. Now, this does remind me of myself: whenever she likes something, she likes it intensely. Not a little-- a lot.

The latest love of Daisy's life is one particular dance number on So You Think You Can Dance-- in this case, one of my favorite shows. Daisy calls it "the dancing show." Today she asked me to put on a tape I'd made of the finale, and she specifically asked for "the door." I knew there was a routine involving a door, so I put that one on for her. She said, "Daisy wants to dance" as soon as it came on. I had to clear a dance space for her on our floor, and she danced enthusiastically through the song. Then she had to hear it again and again and again (and dance every time). I tried to put on other routines for variety, but NOOOOO. It had to be "the door." I could tell she really wanted to be able to do some of the moves the dancers were doing, and of course, she is not nearly coordinated enough to even approximate any of their moves-- but it touched me how she tried. Mostly, she ran in circles, and she tried stamping her feet, kicking, and flailing her arms a little. Oh, and a few times she sort of leaned down and looked between her legs. I have seen her do this before, but I got the feeling it was part of her dance this time.

It is just really endearing. How did she decide that THAT was the best routine on the show? She really latched onto it. I think she could have watched it over and over for hours, if I'd let her.

She continues to talk to us every day about brass sections, woodwind sections, string sections, and harp sections. Today in her bath, she took one of her bathtub pens and said, "Daisy is going to draw a saxophone for Nana." She asked me to draw cymbals, a harp, a xylophone, a piano, and a guitar for her.

I wish I could remember more of the things she is saying. She is so funny, and she makes up jokes now, and tells us fanciful things, and creates babbly little songs with nonsense words. Of course, I can't remember anything specific now that I am trying to blog it. Oh well! Maybe next time.

Two-year-old

I have a lot to learn about age two, since Daisy has only just arrived there. But so far... interesting. Today I was thinking how things were getting easier, as I was giving her her dinner; she has been better about eating, generally. Then, as I was trying to brush her teeth later, I couldn't help thinking how this had gotten harder--she was giving me such a battle. And she is just so... non-rational. Daisy wants to sample all of our toothbrushes, not just brush with her own. She will spend two seconds with her own brush, and then she demands the red toothbrush. She must have it! Then, the blue toothbrush! This one, that one! And she wants to spend about two seconds brushing with each one. Don't ask me why. She also tries to clamp her lips shut when I try to brush her teeth.

So far, then, two has been like this-- a flip-flopping back and forth, all day, between the things that are getting easier and the things that are getting harder. At the moment: bedtime is easy; car rides are easy; eating is easier than it was. Napping is harder; tooth-brushing is harder; and bathing is slightly harder (she still likes her bath, but no longer at all appreciates being washed by me).

I have a feeling the above little gem of wisdom (that whenever one thing is easier, some other thing is bound to be harder) is the truth of parenting in general, not of two particularly. I've unlocked the code! :-)

Faintness

Recently I have become aware that I have rather low blood pressure. I now wonder if this might have some relation to my faintness problem. I haven't actually fainted all the way lately, but I have been having regular episodes of growing very faint and feeling alarm that I am going to pass out. One circumstance (exercise) makes a lot of sense that it would make me faint, but sometimes it comes upon me for no particular reason that I can see. This is a little scary to me and definitely not pleasant. I would like to donate blood, because I think it's a really good thing to do, but having fainted during a blood test once, I don't think I would dare.

Daisy vid

This one is a very tired Daisy fielding my annoying questions about the sections of the orchestra, and poking her bellybutton. She is OBSESSED with orchestras and with classical music right now. I wrote in my Youtube description that she did pretty well at the sections for a 24-month-old, but now I am realizing that I am not supposed to refer to her age by months anymore. I am supposed to say she is "two." But isn't that weird? I mean, there is such a world of difference between a kid who just turned two and a kid who is almost three. I know that on Aug. 20, I am going to be thinking, "She's 25 months old!" A hard habit to break, anyway.

This is but a small sampling of Daisy's vast orchestral knowledge... even if she does think the cello is in the "double bass" section, and the double bass is in the brass section. However, for you nay-sayers, she is right that the saxophone is in the woodwind section. I thought it was in the brass section, but I was wrong.

More Daisy dancing

Daisy and Henry: The love story continues

My girl

She must be mine, because I always think there's a little bit of mischief even in her most angelic smiles.

More on napping

Our nap training seems to have worked, keeping my fingers crossed (sort of) as I write this. Today we put Daisy down in her crib, awake, for her nap--and at a normal time--and she went to sleep. No crying. And yesterday, Mark did the routine successfully without my having to be present. (I should probably clarify that when I say we put her down "awake," I don't mean that we don't try to help her get to a sleepy place; we wait till she seems tired and then we do our lovely routine, where we read her some books in the rocking chair and then give her some milk. But then, instead of rocking her endlessly till she falls asleep, we say it's nap time and put her in her crib with her stuffed animals and her cozy blankie and let her fall asleep on her own.)

So: I venture to say she is getting used to it. We endured three days of crying (where we let her cry for between 20 and 30 minutes), and since then, the nap routine has been painless for all. Assuming this has really worked, and will continue to go smoothly, I have to say it was well worth it. Rocking her to sleep was certainly not working anymore. She was wiggling madly and trying to climb off our laps-- and sometimes it was taking me up to an hour to get her to sleep. Then, when I'd stand up from the rocker and put her down in the crib, she was often sitting up and screaming. My mom had told us, too, that with her back problems, it was getting almost impossible to stand up from the rocker holding Daisy--and there will be days when Mark and I are working and Mom will have to do the nap herself--so we NEEDED a new routine. This is better, easier, and there's something more honest and forthright about it.

Again, assuming this will continue to work, I have to say I am proud of us. This week wasn't easy. We both hate the sound of her crying more than anything. So I am proud of us for trying something different when we recognized our old method was getting unpracticable; coming up with our own variation on the "crying" method that felt humane and do-able; being consistent all week and following through on our plan; not giving up when it felt almost unbearably hard; and, hopefully, succeeding. And I am proud of our little Daisy for adjusting so well. I DON'T say we will never have sleep problems again, because I'm sure we will, and it's to be expected. But this is progress!

Progress

Well, today--the fifth day of our nap experiment--we were able to put Daisy down in her crib awake, at a little before two, and she went to sleep on her own without crying. We did the whole nighttime routine (books, some milk--everything but "jamamas"), then into the crib with her stuffed animals and her "cozy blanket," as she calls it. She actually did the Happy Wiggle, her characteristic gesture at night when we put her to bed, and she was smiling, and she went to sleep. WHEW.

Now we just have to hope that this can be repeated tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that... and that we can move the nap a little earlier, like to 1:00 or so.