Last night, I had a chance to use my 'mom' voice for the first time ever.
You know that voice - the one that either calls you by your full name or is extremely short, clipped, and severe. The one that makes you stop in your tracks and stop doing whatever it is that caused the voice to emerge in the first place.
I will say, Scotty's a pretty good kid. He's going on 10 1/2 months and there haven't been many discipline issues. He hasn't taken my car without permission, he's not texting up a storm, and he rarely talks back. But all of the baby books I've read have mentioned that the 'mental' part of parenting usually starts around nine months, and the chess game continues for the next 18 (or 31, in the case of my parents) years.
I'll admit that I'm a little excited for the mental challenge of parenthood -- I would take that any day over sleep deprivation and/or pumping hell. After all, this is kind of what I did back when I had a paying job. Dealing with snotty adolescents, cranky 9-year olds, disobedient 11-year olds...bring it on. I even like the idea of disciplining toddlers (famous last words, I'm sure) since you can get so creative with how you solve problems. (I'm currently loving 'Super Nanny' reruns on cable, can you tell?) Bring on the charts, stickers, M&M rewards and house rules...this is something I feel like I can excel at.
So anyways, last night, Scotty decided to stand in the bathtub. He's pulled up before, but nothing like this. After four days with his personal Mobility Consultant Rowan, Scotty was ready to try anything. Crawling, cruising, face planting...Rowan made it look so fun and glamorous. So just as I was reaching for the shampoo, Scotty managed to get one little chubby hand on the bathtub towel bar and promptly rose to his feet.
My mom voice came out of me like pea soup in the 'Exorcist.'
"Scott! Sit down!"
Short. To the point. Directive. Firm, calm, authoritative.
And you know what the little monkey did?
He laughed. Hysterically.
There was not a single glimmer of fear. He didn't jump or look startled. He didn't even look mildly bothered. He just burst into little baby giggles and tried to smack my face.
I think I was so taken aback by his reaction that I just sat there, numb, for several seconds. I managed to wrestle him back into the tub, but I didn't try the mom voice again. Bathtime finished up successfully...but he laughed at me? It didn't say anything about that in my baby books.
Gonna have to work on the voice. And my delivery.
*********
In other Scotty news, he is using baby sign language! This is so great. I am starting to feel a little like Jane Goodall when she finally began making contact with the chimps. Scotty and I look at each other like, "Oooooh! Maybe that's what you want? Okay!" It's like finally making communication with a far-off planet or something. He can sign "more," "milk" (his favorite), "all done" (Brian's favorite), and just last night, before his first stab at rebellion, he signed "bathtime." So exciting! Is the puppy stage ending and the toddler stage beginning?
Rowan's trip to Vegas will be posted shortly...today is his first birthday. Again, so crazy to think a year has passed. I just remember Jen going into labor, and then Amie went two days later, and having a total wave of terror wash over me like, "You're next!" Thankfully, the little Bear stayed in place for a full six weeks later.
Happy birthday, Rowan!
You know that voice - the one that either calls you by your full name or is extremely short, clipped, and severe. The one that makes you stop in your tracks and stop doing whatever it is that caused the voice to emerge in the first place.
I will say, Scotty's a pretty good kid. He's going on 10 1/2 months and there haven't been many discipline issues. He hasn't taken my car without permission, he's not texting up a storm, and he rarely talks back. But all of the baby books I've read have mentioned that the 'mental' part of parenting usually starts around nine months, and the chess game continues for the next 18 (or 31, in the case of my parents) years.
I'll admit that I'm a little excited for the mental challenge of parenthood -- I would take that any day over sleep deprivation and/or pumping hell. After all, this is kind of what I did back when I had a paying job. Dealing with snotty adolescents, cranky 9-year olds, disobedient 11-year olds...bring it on. I even like the idea of disciplining toddlers (famous last words, I'm sure) since you can get so creative with how you solve problems. (I'm currently loving 'Super Nanny' reruns on cable, can you tell?) Bring on the charts, stickers, M&M rewards and house rules...this is something I feel like I can excel at.
So anyways, last night, Scotty decided to stand in the bathtub. He's pulled up before, but nothing like this. After four days with his personal Mobility Consultant Rowan, Scotty was ready to try anything. Crawling, cruising, face planting...Rowan made it look so fun and glamorous. So just as I was reaching for the shampoo, Scotty managed to get one little chubby hand on the bathtub towel bar and promptly rose to his feet.
My mom voice came out of me like pea soup in the 'Exorcist.'
"Scott! Sit down!"
Short. To the point. Directive. Firm, calm, authoritative.
And you know what the little monkey did?
He laughed. Hysterically.
There was not a single glimmer of fear. He didn't jump or look startled. He didn't even look mildly bothered. He just burst into little baby giggles and tried to smack my face.
I think I was so taken aback by his reaction that I just sat there, numb, for several seconds. I managed to wrestle him back into the tub, but I didn't try the mom voice again. Bathtime finished up successfully...but he laughed at me? It didn't say anything about that in my baby books.
Gonna have to work on the voice. And my delivery.
*********
In other Scotty news, he is using baby sign language! This is so great. I am starting to feel a little like Jane Goodall when she finally began making contact with the chimps. Scotty and I look at each other like, "Oooooh! Maybe that's what you want? Okay!" It's like finally making communication with a far-off planet or something. He can sign "more," "milk" (his favorite), "all done" (Brian's favorite), and just last night, before his first stab at rebellion, he signed "bathtime." So exciting! Is the puppy stage ending and the toddler stage beginning?
Rowan's trip to Vegas will be posted shortly...today is his first birthday. Again, so crazy to think a year has passed. I just remember Jen going into labor, and then Amie went two days later, and having a total wave of terror wash over me like, "You're next!" Thankfully, the little Bear stayed in place for a full six weeks later.
Happy birthday, Rowan!
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