The Poopsie Collective

Look Who’s Talking!

Written by Erica 

So it’s happened. Well, it’s been happening for a while, but I think it is now fair to say that Owen is officially talking. I can’t remember exactly when it started, so we can add this to the list of milestones that I will never be able to accurately recall along with the first time he smiled, first time he crawled and his real first meal. For someone who has always prided herself on having an impressive memory, I really suck at commemorating my son’s developmental feats. 

Anyway, even though the whole talking thing began months ago (if my muddled memory serves he started saying mom first, then dad, sometime around 9 months?), in recent weeks it’s gone from random words that have zero meaning to actually being able to communicate. There is absolutely no denying that Owen now speaks. And just like when he started walking, it’s both amazing to watch, hysterical to experience and exhausting to keep up with. He talks ALL. THE. TIME. He has a lot to say, which isn’t shocking since I too am a talker. And now when I go an entire day without any other (adult) human contact, I’m OK with it because at least I have someone to chat with. And now he can finally talk back. It’s pretty great actually. “What do you want for breakfast Owen? How about a waffle?” “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Waffle!” Or when I’m picking out his outfit for the day and I’m really just talking to myself, he chimes in…”This. This one!” Typically he points at something that completely doesn’t match so I smile, thank him for his input, ignore his request and move on. But the point is, he talks!

The other day we were out and were chatting away when a woman in the elevator looked at me and goes “Wait, what did he just say? Did you understand that?” (Of course I did, he clearly said “oh my gosh” and shook his head.) And then it dawned on me. Owen definitely speaks; it’s definitely real, complete words and phrases that come out of his mouth. But it’s also in a weird baby-voiced language that maybe only I can comprehend. A total stranger might hear “wa wa weeeze” but I hear “water please.” Or maybe he’ll mutter something that resembles “ah-na sure” but I know he said “I’m not sure.”

So in an effort to help out anyone who may converse with my kiddo, and quite frankly, to mark in writing his latest ventures in the world of verbal communication (so that a few months down the road I don’t have to add this to the list of moments I completely forgot), here’s a quick dictionary of Owen’s current favorite words and phrases. And no, I am not entirely shocked that “‘sup” made the cut.

Hiiiii (and Byeeeeeeee) - Self-explanatory and easy to understand. Also impossible to ignore since he screams both words whenever someone enters or leaves his peripheral vision.

Hello - Similar to above, but reserved for when he answers the phone (or puts any electronic device up to his ear).

Yeah, Yeah Yeah! - When he agrees with something. He rarely offers a singular “yeah”. He usually triples it up for emphasis and includes a nice enthusiastic head nod for good measure. (See the above video for proof.)

No, No No - Said combined with a finger shaking when he doesn’t want to do something. He’s basically mimicking the way I must look when I scold him, which is hysterical because it makes me realize how not-scary I am when I’m mad. Oh well…

Uh Oh (sometimes replaced by “Oh No!”) - When he drops something (aka throws something on the floor). So, we hear this one A LOT.

Nana - Nope, not in reference to either of his Grandmothers. Here he’s talking about the “ba” kind of nana. As in, banana. In related news, I’m working on teaching him to say “that’s bananas” but so far no dice.

Fank Fu (otherwise known as Thank you) - The good news is, my boy is learning manners. He might not be able to pronounce his “th” sound yet but at least he’s got most of right. And here’s hoping he learns his “t-h” before his “f-u”.

I Wuv Woooo (I Love You) - He apparently also can’t really squeeze out the “L” sound. But his inflection is perfect. Plus he does a nice little hand motion where he puts his finger to his eye when he says “I” then across his chest for “wuv” and then he points at pretty much anyone walking by for “woo”.

Ah-na Sure (I’m Not Sure) - And yes, I know that’s what he’s actually saying because he shrugs his shoulders and lifts up his little hands like he’s confused every time he says it.

‘Sup (short for our attempted What’s Up) - Let’s be honest, we all use the phrase “what’s up” 90% of the time when greeting one another. Or maybe that’s just me. It only seemed appropriate this be one of Owen’s first words. The best part is, he’s already too cool to say the fully pronounced “what is up”. He jumped right to the slightly more ghetto “‘sup.”

Sock (and Shoe) - As if getting Owen dressed wasn’t getting difficult enough now that he wants to do everything himself without help. Now that he knows the words “sock” and “shoe” he also insists on taking off his socks and shoes just so he can say the words as he throws the items on the floor.

Sissy (short for Sister) - And NO! I’m not pregnant. When he says sissy he is solely referring to his dog, who is 100% his sister. A much hairier sister with far fewer words in her vocab, but a sissy nonetheless.

Developmental Phases: When Is It Time To…

Written by ERICA

Recently I looked at my baby boy as he legit said “I WUV YOU” and hugged me, and I realized, holy crapola, this is no baby. Owen is a BIG BOY. He is growing up, and fast. 

I mean, I’ve known it’s happening all along; it’s not like I was expecting to birth a 5 lb nugget and have him stay that way forever. That would be creepy. The fact that Owen is growing and developing isn’t the scary part. The hard part to swallow isn’t that our kids are changing, it’s that we as moms have to change with them.

When your kids become toddlers you, as a mom, have to up your A-game. The same old tricks that used to soothe/entertain your munchkin no longer cut it, and the activities/behaviors/milestones that you never used to think about suddenly become important, if not imminent. And as a first-time mom who’s never done this whole toddler thing before, I’m often not really sure what to do, or more accurately, when to do it. These days I’m wondering, when is it time to…

Introduce Utensils

My general attitude towards parenting has been very laid back from day one. I let Owen show me when he’s ready for something; we give it a try, if it doesn’t work, no biggie, we’ll get there. This mentality applied to the bottle-to-sippy-cup transition when he turned one. And the same rule applies to utensils. I am hesitant to introduce them, mostly because they make things messy(er). Not that eating with your hands is neat. 10 times out of 10 Owen looks like he was in a food fight after his finger-licking-good meal. But add a spoon to the equation and I’m pretty sure my clothes, my walls and my dog will pay the price. So I‘m fighting it. But lately Owen has literally been grabbing my fork out of my hand and feeding himself some chicken. I guess no hands dessert contests are out of the question and it’s time to teach him how to hold a fork? 

Get a Haircut

Owen has a mullet. Or maybe it’s a rat-tail. Or a little of both.  It’s basically a comb-over on top, with some wings on the sides, and a party in the back. But I just cannot get myself to cut it. It’s not that I’m opposed to toddler haircuts for any reason. I know he needs one. And bad. But it’s his baby boy hair. Once it gets cut, it’s gone. You can’t get those curly strands of innocence back. Plus, 90% of kid haircuts I see look like Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber.  

Comb-over, check. Wings, check. And I promise you, there is a Jew-fro in the back.

Censor Your Language

I curse. Often. I can’t help it. I’m known to be a bit of a pottymouth, which I’m generally OK with. I can turn it off when necessary (at work, interviews, around super conservative old people). But now that Owen has started mimicking everything I say or do, I’m in a bit of a pickle. I have this vision of Owen’s first real phrase being “MOM WHERE’S MY F-ING MILK?” I think it might be time to watch what I say around him. And since I’m ALWAYS around him, I guess I better just eliminate the F-bomb from my vocabulary. F*cking fabulous.

Take Swimming Lessons

Owen LOVES to swim. Well, he doesn’t know how to swim. But he loves water. He freaks out (in a good way) in the tub. He practically drinks pool water he splashes so much into his mouth. I’m fairly certain he would do a major cannonball into the deep end (and never come back up) if I let him. But the kid is only 16 months old. He just learned where his penis is. Part of me feels like it’s too soon to ask him to kick or hold his breath or launch face first into the arms of a swim teacher. The other part of me knows he’s ready, and the sooner he learns to swim the sooner I can stop worrying he’s about to drown anytime we’re within 20 feet of a body of water.

Get Rid of Old Toys

I’m not a hoarder. I swear. I am actually a neat freak. I tidy up incessantly. Everything, including Owen’s toys, have a place. His balls are in one bin, his blocks in another, and his musical toys in a third. And as he grows two things are happening in the toy department: 1) he gets A LOT of new toys (guilty, but he needs them, for his development!) and 2) he gets bored with old toys. So the new toys get lots of play and the old toys gather dust. Logic would say that I should retire his old toys, either put them in storage or donate them. Which I would do, except that every once in a while he’ll rediscover an old tambourine and fall deeply in love with it all over again. How can I get rid of something he might want to play with down the road? No, I can’t. I think I’ll just save EVERYTHING, just in case. (Crap, am I becoming a hoarder?)

Discipline

Owen happens to be a really well behaved, happy kid (I’m sure it has nothing to do with my mothering, and everything to do with an innate, laid-back personality). So there haven’t been many situations to date where he needs disciplining. He is a good sleeper, a good sharer and a really good eater. But he’s also super curious and getting really good at exploring those curiosities. Like today when he figured out how to use the ottoman as a step and climb up to our media console. I turned around just as he grabbed our Baccarat vase (a wedding present). I’m fairly certain I should have yelled, but instead I snapped a picture. It seemed like either a good time to scold him or an amazing photo opp. I opted for the latter. I’m just not ready to be mean mommy. And yes, I know that’s going to bite me in the a$$ later. 

He’s officially a climber… nothing is safe. Well, that’s just fan-freakin-tastic.

Have your own advice/thoughts/insights to share? Or have your own doubts and questions for the Poopsie community? Email us at poopsiecollective@gmail.com or post a comment here!

So Many Phases So Little Time

Written by GWEN

When I look back on the last 14 months, it’s a bit of a blur. On the one hand I can’t believe how fast it’s gone. But on the other hand, it seems like we’ve already packed a lifetime into just over a year. There have been so many phases, trials, tears and moments of joy packed into such a short time. I’m feeling reflective this week (can you tell), so here’s a short list of phases and triumphs over the very special life thus far of Mr. Izzy Mylo.

I remember….

1.) When the mister and I used to lie awake at night in wonder at the ridiculous noises coming from the Moses basket next to our bed.  Mainly the amazingly loud farts.

2.) How Izzy’s tongue used to ALWAYS be out. I think it’s kinda unusually long and when he was really little, it just didn’t fit.

There’s that tongue!

3.) At around 7 months, Izzy finally learned to sit up on his own. So every night he would wake up every few hours crying because he had sat up in his sleep, but  didn’t yet know how to get back to lying down. It was so sad and so cute. And so tiring.

4.) Around that same time, Izzy also decided to wake up at 5:30 every morning. This was ridiculously discouraging, but now he sleeps until 7:30 most mornings. The other day he made it until 8:15. I had NO idea what to do with myself.

5.) At three or four months, we really had a great boob feeding routine down. I would take Izzy up to my bedroom, latch him on and I could actually read a book for half an hour. It was so quiet and peaceful and special.

6.) Then at the very end of the year, as I was winding down his feeds, Izzy bit my nipple to the point of bleeding every time. That was not so peaceful or special. 

7.) At the moment Izzy is in what the Mister calls a Schadenfreude phase.  Basically he thinks it’s HYSTERICAL when anybody falls, hurts them-self, trips, drops something. He may have gotten this from me. Apparently I’ve been in a Schadenfreude phase for the better part of the last two decades. I try to discourage it with Izzy, but it’s SOO sweet when he giggles. 

8.) During the tricky period where Izzy was waking up super early, I admit to putting on Baby TV from time to time. He was OBSESSED with a show called Egg Bird, which consists of decorated eggs with legs, who every episode meet a new egg bird and find him a costume. It’s really very cute. And I SWEAR Izzy shouts, EGGBIR, EGGBIR, every time it comes on.

9.) The drum phase! On Friday mornings, we go to a sing along where at the end every baby gets to bang on a lollipop shaped drum while we sing goodbye to them. Izzy became SO obsessed with this drum, that the teacher had to save him for last every week, so he could play with the drum once the session was over. Then when I finally dragged him away, he burst into tears. We finally got him his own, which he still plays with, but isn’t quite as attached to anymore.

10.) The Leroy phase. Seems to be a lifer. He just LOVES that lion.

Another phase… Izzy used to fall asleep on our bed or on the floor all the time!

I could go on and on, but you get the point! Here’s to another year of god knows WHAT!

How Big is Owen? SO BIG!

Written by ERICA

December 2010, 1 year ago, and about 1 day pre-birth.

So remember, one year ago today, when I was smuggling this massive bowling ball in my belly, and I stood up to hand AJ some tools (ironically, he was hanging blinds in the baby’s room) and my water broke? Remember that? Remember when I wasn’t sure if I was actually in labor until we reached the hospital and I had sufficiently soaked the backseat of our cab in amniotic fluid? Remember? Remember when after approximately 15 hours, 4 cups of jello, 1 epidural and a lot of pushing, I had a BABY?!

‘Cause I do. I remember it well. I remember what I wore in the hospital, I remember the episode of SNL we watched while I was in labor, I remember being pissed I didn’t eat a massive bagel or pizza before my epidural (when I wasn’t allowed to eat anything). I remember the excitement and shock and a teensy bit of anxiety. And I remember staring at my delicious 5-pound baby and his not so delicious cone head. 

And as clear as my memory is of December 5, 2010, somehow, I barely remember everything that followed. Today is Owen’s 1 year birthday, and pretty much everything about the past 365 days is a blur. I would like to think that I recall every last detail of his first year, but then I see a newborn baby and I could swear my Owen was never that tiny (in truth, he was even smaller since he was a month early). I know I should remember when he first mastered tummy time, but in reality I have a hard time picturing him not walking around, knocking things down and breaking into all the off-limits goods (toilet, wine fridge, dishwasher…). I see my friends’ little nuggets sleeping (all day long) and smiling for the first time, and even though I know Owen did all of that too, he is changing so fast that I really can’t imagine him any different than he is right now. And part of me feels really guilty for not knowing what day/month he first crawled or when he first sat up or (insert developmental milestone here).

And that’s when it hit me. He’s not a baby any more. He’s a KID. If you ask Owen, he’s SO BIG (cue arms up in the air). He holds his own cup of water. He refuses to eat purees, but he will inhale pretty much anything he can feed himself. He loves to play all the time, as long as playing involves walking/crawling/dancing and doesn’t involve him being stuck in his jumperoo. He is alert. But not baby alert, when they first focus on your face. Nah, he’s like, grown up alert. He is smart. I try to hide my phone or shove the remote under the couch cushion and out of his reach (or so I think) and he finds it. He listens and even though his vocabulary is fairly limited to ma-ma, da-da, ga-ga (doggy?), ba-ba, and WHOA, he responds. Seriously, this kid is, well, a KID.

The bad news is, it goes FAST. Everyone always tells you that, and by everyone I mean your parents. But they are right. I mean, how do I have a child? I AM STILL A CHILD. It was weird enough to comprehend when I had a baby, and then poof, he’s a toddler. A TODDLER. What’s next, he’ll be buying beer? Bringing home chicks? Having kids of his own? Shudder.

So if that’s the bad news, but here’s the good news. It gets better every day. Every day he does something new and amazing that I honestly can’t remember him not doing. He gets cuter and funnier and more delicious every day. Sure, he also gets dirtier and smellier (ugh boys and their stinky feet), but somehow, even though I never think it’s possible, he gets more lovable.

So what if I don’t remember his first fart or his first meal or the day that his head finally rounded out. That’s OK. That’s what pictures and thankfully, this blog are for. All that really matters is that I love him today and tomorrow and every day after that. And here’s hoping that year 2 is as amazing as year 1 was (at least what I can remember of it).

Happy 1^st Birthday Baby O! Mommy loves you!