Observations of the man-child and me at 18 months… for old times sake…

My long time readers are probably clapping their hands, excited to see what’s about to unfold, for the newbies, you are probs like, “Observations of the man-child and me at 18 months … for old times sake… Whaaaa?”  Every month after Oliver’s birth I would write an observations list of his development and my postpartum recovery, all the way until his first birthday. This list started out focused on the important milestones for Oliver and the positive recovery of me… now it is no shame list… or in the words of my husband, “A full-on piss take.”

I know this should be a photo of me and Ollie,
but since this entire post is about us,
I thought I would throw in this photo so FTD would not feel left out...
Yes, that is Ollie's YODA hat on FTD's head...
Without further ado… lets start with the man-child.
Observations of the man-child at 18-months.

1. What a freaking beast!  Standing at 33.5 inches (85.09 cm) tall and 31 pounds (14kg), he is one lean (Ok maybe not so lean) mean toddler machine.
See those shoes?  His feet are like Fred Flintstones-- Flat, fat and wide...nothing fits!
2. He will chat up a streetlight, but who knows about what!  He talks and talks, which at first came out as SCREECHING, then yelling and has finally settled into a constant rolling jumble of sounds. He knows about 10 good words, but no two go together, so we have one understandable word shouted at us every few minutes or so.
3. My theory on not hitting a child will keep him from hitting, was an epic fail. When Ollie gets mad and throws a fit, he hits whatever is in front of him.  Not awesome.  We are working on it.
4. If there were such a thing as a “Throwing Contest for Toddlers,” my kid would win that shit!  He can chuck a ball like a pro, and launch a shoe from the back seat to the front with gusto!
5. You deny this child of anything and BOOM he’s on the ground, rolling around while crying, screaming, pounding and kicking the floor.  I used to try to talk to him about it, now I walk away.  You cannot rationalize with the irrational… Toddler=Irrational.
6. He has one speed. RUN! When he is hell bent on not coming inside, he will run so fast I have to run to catch him. Yes. Run. He is a toddler with legs shorter than my arms, yet I have to bust ass to catch him!
7. He has hair on his legs!  LOTS OF IT!  I could not believe it when I saw it.  I was helping him climb the slide at the park, and saw it, hairy ass toddler legs.  Mind. Was. Blown.
8. Mealtime sucks ass.  However, since my “Feeding a Toddler Sucks Ass” post, I have some really great tools for dealing with it.  Currently we are practicing the, let him starve if he is throwing a fit over his dinner for no reason method, and the, take the tray of food away once he starts pegging the cat with chicken nuggets method.  I hope this doesn’t last long.

9. Books, Hot Wheels, Fire Trucks, Air Planes, Thomas the Tank and The Wiggles make life grand. GRAND!
10. My toddler is the greatest little person in the world.  I love that little dude like I have never imagined loving someone could be possible.  He is perfect and wonderful and bad ass… even when he is launching his shoes and food at me in between blows and temper tantrums.  I just love that little shit more than life itself.  Three cheers for my boy!

One last thing...  Our well-baby checkup itself.  We had to fill out an Autism questionnaire, and after a check of Ollie, our pediatrician was very confidant that Oliver was not on the autism spectrum at all. Oliver had a two-in-one vaccination shot and took it like a BOSS!  He cried for a few seconds and then was over it.  I was so proud. All else was routine poking and question and answer.

I also want to give a shout out to our pediatrician, the best in galaxy, Dr. Harold Livera.  After 18-months of dealing with FTD and I being neurotic (OK Me more than FTD) over protective psycho nutbag parents, that throw each other under the bad parenting bus every visit, he has been AMAZING!  So comforting and even hard on us when necessary. From the day I had Ollie, DR. L came to the hospital every single day, and no matter how packed the office is, once he shuts the door behind him, he makes us feel like we are his most important and only patients of the day.  Thank you Dr. Livera.

If you do not have a pediatrician that you love, go find one. 

Observations of me 18-months postpartum… Is it really even possible to be PP after a year and a half?

1. I still have 2-3 sizes to go before pre-baby clothes are going on my post baby ass.  I have no idea what the actual weight is, because speaking of launching things… there is no scale in my house.
2. I am still nursing… It's time to get serious about weening... Yes. Again. I am so tired of having the magical growing boobies.  One minute my bra fits, the next I have a foursome in my shirt.  
3. I still struggle with making time for myself.  I wish I could say at 18-months I have found the balance between ME and Mother, or that sweet spot where Mom and Bad Ass meet, but I am just not all the way there yet.
4. I have moments where I want to run away to Neverevergoingtoreturn Island.  I miss the freedom of being child-free, and sometimes get tired of constantly feeling torn in 100 directions, but the idea of living without Ollie is incomprehensionable, so I have a drink and calm the hell down.
5. I never ever in my life thought I would be a stay-at-home-mom, but here I am... A muumuu wearing, flip flop rocking, no hair brushing, frazzled domestic goddess. Truth-be-told I miss feeling important in the work place, so this fall I am going to try to get Ollie into a two day “Mommy’s Day Out,” program to ease us both into days apart. 
6. I still do not want to have another child. I thought I would by now, but I don’t.  Ollie needs a sibling, and FTD is desperate for another baby… but I am just not ready. 
7. I have curbed the potty mouth… mostly… but when I pull the car away from the curb… well… Some people should not have a driver’s license, and those people ALWAYS seem to find a way to drive in front of me. I’m working on it… dammit.
8. I struggle with FTD over the fact that we have not had a date night since Ollie was born.  It’s hard.  I miss my husband.  It’s not healthy. I’m working on getting a sitter.  The one time I thought I had one she fell through.  Ugh.  Soon…
9. I’m a flakey friend.  I never commit to plans or make them, because I know I will flake. My life revolves around my son, and it’s sad to say, but that is easy for me.  I’m so worn out by the end of the day, the idea of going out is not that appealing… < ---- That would be excuse one of four-million. Of course when I do go out I LOVE IT!  I just need to get off of my lazy ass and do it.
10. Even though I may still be an overweight, ponytail wearing, flip-flop rocking hot mess, with a social life that leaves LOTS to be desired, I am still a bad ass thirty-something princess inside.  I listen to music loud in the car, I gossip with my girlfriends (over the phone), I write for a living, and every once in awhile I take a shower, do my hair, paint my nails and go out with my girlfriends… and regret the hell out of my choice in shoe and multiple drinks the next morning.  If I am not right on track for being a bad ass first time mom with a year and a half old son, then I am pretty damn close.

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Two confused parents=One amused baby Hopelessly we are trying raise a baby who is clearly smarter than both of us. April is an award-winning writer and blogger. Her work has been published in over ten countries and four languages. From books to newspapers, to print/online magazines and everything in between, you can find her work. For more on April, Visit AprilMcCormick.com