OP’s second (!) birthday is this week, and we’ll be celebrating with grandma and grandpa tonight. I’ve been thinking about the last two years with her. Parenthood is a tricky thing. Before you have the baby you know exactly how you will act as a parent. Discipline won’t be a problem because you read some book by Dr. Hot Right Now. Your child will never act up in public. You will have tons of energy, because of course your child will sleep through the night. I will admit, I’m guilty of some of it. I never read the book, but I had certain beliefs with discipline.  I fully expected my kid to act up in public, but I didn’t expect how horrified I would feel. I’m exhausted beyond what I every expected even though my kid does sleep through the night.

I’ve learned a lot about my parent self in the last two years. So to bore you, here’s some highlights.

I’m more patient that I ever imagined

I have never been a patient person. I get annoyed very easily and when I think back to my baby-sitting experience, it’s the one thing I wish I could change. With OP, however, I have patience to spare. (My mom always said it’s different with your kid. Darn her, she was right.)

If I slept only 3 hours last night and now OP is having a temper tantrum because Sesame Street is over and we have to go to day care and she doesn’t want to go to day care in these clothes where are her PJs? She just wants her PJs and Sesame Street and you never let me do what I want to do!!!!!! I get short and irritated with her, but I don’t throw her out the window*, I don’t yell at her, I don’t scream FINE, SIT AROUND IN YOUR PJS FOR ALL I CARE and then stomp off in a fit. Two of the three, I thought I would do. Instead, I pick her up like normal and say, in a somewhat chipper/soothing voice although probably angrier than I think, that I understand that she’s mad but she has to go to day care in clothes blah blah blah. It’s so weird. I don’t know who I am.

Of course, I have less patience for the Husband. Maybe I’m still me, it’s just transferring.

*Hyperbole y’all.

What if I wore a hat with my PJs?

I’m one of those moms

You know those crazy people talking to themselves? I do that, but with OP. I talk to her constantly in the store, and not always quietly. “Oh look, OP, it’s an avocado!” “Can you turn the cart rocket to the right?” It’s a sickness and I can only imagine that it’s obnoxious. People stare at me.

I get my crazy from my Mommy.

I let discipline fly out the window

I’m old school when it comes to discipline. No, not spanking, but boundaries, consequences, and discipline. Of course, I was raised with “You want me to give you something to cry about” when you tried to work the system with some tears. My parents followed through every time and I turned out okay. More or less.

Someone told me they heard a parent in a store tell their child that they were being “bold” rather than saying they were behaving badly. Bold? Really? You’re being a brat kiddo, knock it off or there will be a price. Bold. Ugh. In the meantime, the kid was still a brat and his mommy was doing absolutely nothing to stop it.

But, when OP is screaming because all she wants to do is paint the house with her poop while balancing on the top of the chair eating her 7th cookie and juggling knives** and why won’t you just LET HER DO IT, and you’re tired, stressed, and really really need to go to the bathroom? Sometimes you cave in, which is bad because consistency is key, but sometimes you just don’t have the wherewithal to deal with it.

I thought it would be easier to say no because it’s how you show your child how much you love them. “No, you can’t play with the chain saw” = I love you. “No, you have to eat a vegetable.” = I love you. “No, you can’t dance naked outside in the snow because you will freeze to death.” = I love you. But then she cries. It takes every ounce of strength to keep saying no and some days, there is just no strength left. I don’t think I’m as patient as I thought

**More hyperbole y’all.

I like to juggle knives!

I’m one of those moms (again)

OP gets progress reports at day care. One said that she was still learning shape sorting. Excuse me? Not my baby! She sorts like a genius at home. She is a shape sorting master! Adults come to her to learn the ways of the shape sorter! It was all I could do not to walk over to the teacher and argue about how my precious exceeded that skill and that maybe they need to reevaluate. Yeah, I hate those parents and swore I’d never be one, but that’s my inclination. Fortunately, I don’t act on it. I usually go home, talk it out with the Husband first, and then talk to the offending party if it actually is a big deal outside my brain. I really hope this one goes away before she starts school, or I will end up in a special home.

I'm a genius. Don't they see that?

The mushy one

I love the Husband. He makes me happy and I never thought I could be so happy until I met him. Then we had a little girl–a rambunctious, hilarious, witty, and amazing little girl. I have never been so happy. All the stress and knife juggling and tantrums does not compare to that feeling when she gives a spontaneous hug or runs over to me all excited to go home after day care. Every time she demonstrates something that she learned from us, it boggles my mind that she used to be just a random kick in my belly. I never thought I would be so in love with my little girl.

Happy Birthday, OP!

As cliche as it is, I can’t believe it’s December already. Where the heck did the year go? I think, since I’ve been horrible about updating lately, I’ll give you a quick synopsis of my world lately.

Twitter

Oy, vey. I’ve started a Twitter account (@kisknit). I keep starting twitter accounts in various forms and then dropping it because I just don’t get twitter. Maybe this time is the charm. Follow me if you like. Or don’t. I won’t love you any less. Or if I do, I’ll tweet about it and you’ll never see it. Or wait, you may see it because my twitter feed is on the right column of this here blog.

Knitting

I’m still cataloging my yarn. I’m at 52 items and am hanging my head in shame. I still have more!!!! At least what I have left are the odds and ends from other projects. I think I’m going to catalog the if there’s at least one skein. That’s still a lot of yarn. Maybe in 2023 I’ll be able to let myself buy more.

I finally took Skew out of time out and frogged the second sock. I had knit the first sock on US 1 needles, but when I switched to size 0 for the ribbing, I forgot to go back to the original size 1 needles when I started the second sock. I did the entire sock before I realized my mistake. Hoping I could get away with the difference in size, I tried on the sock whereupon my foot fell off from a lack of blood flow. Needless to say, the sock was grounded for a bit. It’s now frogged and I soaked the yarn to get the worst of the crinkles out. It will be started in the next few weeks.

I’m working on a pattern for the Husband’s scarf and I have it almost figured out. I just need to sort out how the different patterns will interact so it’s even. I’m almost there on it. Otherwise, I’ve finished 3 projects that I need to post about. Something about the end of the year makes me get projects done. No idea why.

OP, the Awesome Child of Doom

OP is continuing to amaze and astound. She is having whole conversations and singing like crazy. I never expected her to be so verbal at this age. Of course, when she’s upset she reverts to a neanderthal and screams, hits, and grunts to get what she wants. You can tell her to “use her words” a million times and she will just scream louder while grunting and gesturing in the vague direction of what she may or may not want at this moment in time. If you try to guess at what she wants based on the general direction of her gestures, you are very likely to make her to throw herself onto the floor in utter defeat because you, as the parent, are too dumb to understand the intricate scream and grunt system she has devised. Parenting is fun.

Exercise

Yeah, I’ve had a bad couple months but I’m slowly getting back into it. Sadly, I was really enjoying a run on the treadmill today when the power went out. I was about 22 minutes in and feeling fantastic. Stupid power. Tomorrow is another day.

Other stuff

There’s a whole lot of super secret stuff going on at the kisknit abode that I am dying to comment on, but am afraid to until minds are made up and things are taken care of. It’s driving me crazy so I’m spreading the crazy. Now, you are driven crazy wondering at what I’m cryptically mentioning in passing, aren’t you? If so, my work is done. If not, I need to come up with something else. And no, it does not mean I’m pregnant, trying to become pregnant, or have touched a pregnant lady. I just need to qualify that. It has nothing to do with my uterus.

Well now I’m annoyed. I had a great post that I accidentally lost all on the wonderful things I’m thankful for on Thanksgiving. Maybe the universe is telling me not to get all mushy? Or maybe I just need to remember to save drafts.

I’m going to keep this version short and sweet. I’m thankful for the two people in the other room watching Titan A.E. together so I can go shower, clean, and write this post. Or, as OP calls it “Ghosties movie, Mamma!” She hasn’t seen the movie before so we’ll see how it goes, but OP saw the back of the case and took one look at the electrical aliens and that was all she wrote. I’m thankful for the Husband. He does so much around the house even through training and races and puts up with my insanity and occasional nagging. Hey, I have to put up with his insanity and occasional nagging so it’s at least mutual. I’m thankful for the girl who brightened up the darkest day. OP is funny, smart, and a blast to have in my life and I’m so proud to say that she’s my kid.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I like to think I don’t drive you batty only writing about my child. I mean, I do write about her, but not every post so you can’t be that sick of her. Yet. Over the past few months, OP has grown by leaps and bounds and I thought I’d share a few stories.

I give you Tales of OP!

(Since I’m writing this, they are pretty much our conversations and not Daddy’s conversations with her. He can always send me some for an update).

Setting: OP sitting on Mommy’s lap drinking water from Mommy’s water bottle.

Mommy (to Daddy): I’m thirsty. I need to go get a drink.
OP (pushing the water bottle into Mommy’s mouth): Water, Mommy.

Setting: Mommy and OP go upstairs to get OP dressed. OP detours to master bedroom.

OP (pounding on bedroom door): Daddy! Daddy open door!
Mommy (opening door): Daddy’s in the shower, he can’t open the door for you. Do you want to see him?
OP (runs into the room toward the TV): Watch Phineas and Ferb!

Setting: Any day of the week

Mommy: What does the doctor say?
OP: No monkeys!
Mommy: What does Grandma Tilde say?
OP: No elephants!
Mommy: What does Cookie Monster say?
OP: Me love cookies!
Mommy: What does *insert girl cousin’s name* say?
OP: Du’oh!
Mommy: What does *insert boy cousin’s name* say?
OP: Aaaaaa!

Setting: At dinner

After eating, OP sits in her chair and coloring on paper and highchair tray. When she decides she is done, OP sprinkles water from her sippy cup onto the tray covered in crayon and proceeds to obsessively wipe the water with a napkin, removing all of the crayon marks.

Setting: Lounging on Mommy and Daddy’s bed while Mommy gets ready for work.

Mommy sits on the bed.
OP (looking at a beauty mark on Mommy’s leg): Boo boo. Mommy has boo boo. Kiss.
OP leans over and kisses the spot on Mommy’s leg.

Setting: Kitchen around dinner time

OP (yelling): Elmo’s World! Elmo’s World! Elmo’s World!
Daddy: Is she saying Elmo’s World?
Mommy: Yes. She’s singing the theme to Elmo’s World. Our kid sings now. You should hear her rendition of Rubber Ducky.

Setting: OP’s bedroom at bedtime

OP (yelling and waving her socks): Socks! Socks! Socks!
Daddy (Getting OP’s sleeve on)
OP: No socks.
Daddy passes OP’s socks back to her.
OP: Daddy, I said no socks.

Setting: Our house (there are some liberties here as I forget the specifics)

Daddy: Look at all the books, OP
OP: Books! One, two, three, four, five, six!
Daddy: Um, dear…she just counted the books in the room! Our daughter can count.

Since I can count now, Daddy, I feel that I should be allowed to drive. Can I have the keys?