No, not the Dan Brown book.  Though I will say it was my favorite Dan Brown novel, and the movie was quite good as well, much better than the overly lauded “DaVinci Code.”

What I mean is that Jenna has mostly been an angel and Michael?  Well, this week Michael seems to have been possessed by some kind of horrible, awful, terrible twos demon.  Here is where most other “mommy blogs” (shudder) will shut their cyber traps, choosing instead to only write about the smart, adorable, sweet things their children are doing.

But I, Carolicious, believe I would be doing a disservice to mothers and potential mothers everywhere if I didn’t give you the straight dope.  Two-year olds are wonderful creatures but God Almighty, can they be monsters.  That’s not even a strong enough word.  Saying that Michael has been a monster lately would do a strong disservice to monsters.  Monsters could come and take some monster lessons from this kid.

A month or two after Jenna was born Michael went through about a month long phase where he would constantly hit, kick, throw things, scream, yell, and just be otherwise contrary.  I chalked it up to jealousy over all the attention his new little sister was receiving.  Somehow or another it blew over, and for a few months he was hit/kick/throw free.

But lately he has been unruly in general and particularly mean to his sister, poking, pinching, pushing, and punching.  Some days it seems like he’s in “time out” more than he’s in “time in.”  I’ve read a million different things about disciplining children and tried just about every tactic; time-out, ignoring the behavior altogether, and taking away toys/priveleges.  Nothing seems to work.  We are not proponents of spanking, since it seems totally illogical that I would punish Michael for hitting by… well, hitting.  I also think that spanking sets a “might makes right” precedent, which is simply not how things are done in the real world.

The only time I’ve ever managed to successfully get Michael to stop his actions and show remorse was when, completely at my wit’s end, I absolutely burst into giant crocodile tears.  Michael took one look at my tears, quivered his lower lip, and cried inconsolably for about a half hour, curled up on my chest.  Maybe that’s the key to discipline right there.  Make your child think they’ve pushed you THIS CLOSE to completely losing your shit.

I visited one of my favorite blogs the other day and she wrote, far better and funnier than I, a post about this very subject (except that her son is 4… lord help me).  It’s nice to know I’m not the only one, I suppose.  Internet, if you’ve got any pearls of wisdom, pass ‘em on.

On the other hand, Michael is doing some pretty cute and amazing things, too, such as counting to ten with gusto, singing the ABC song, and just singing songs in general.  The other day Michael saw a photo of Muffin and I on our wedding day, and when he asked what it was I explained to him that Mommy and Daddy are married.  He said, “Daddy married Mommy.  Michael gonna marry Mommy, too!”  Everybody now… AAAAWWWW.

This week Jenna has been as charming and lovely as can be.  Of course, I could just be saying this because she slept through the night last night, a feat she has accomplished only a handful of times in her eight months of life.  Her latest trick is waving AND SAYING “Hi!”  Only when she says it, it comes out like, “HiiiEEEEEEEEE,” confirming that “valley girls” really must just be born that way.  Further confirmation has been garnered by her other new trick, putting the phone up to her ear and  babbling into it.  I don’t know what she’s saying, but I imagine it goes something like this:

“Ohmigod, are you serious?  SHUT. UP.  That is like, so awesome.”

She is also the proud owner of two new sparkly teeth and has taken to self feeding with gusto, particularly foods of the Cheerio variety.

A few weeks ago we had some photos taken by a local photographer, James Olson of Alderbrook Imaging.  He did an amazing job and I highly recommend his services to anyone who lives in our area.  I’m posting a few photos below that I particularly love; the rest, if you’re interested, are posted here.

Up until a few days ago, the Karnofski household had been cruising along healthily no illnesses at all in at least three months.  Then Michael got a cold, then Jenna was teething.

And then, there were chicken pox.  Or at least what we thought were chicken pox.

About a week ago I noticed that Jenna had a little rash on her tummy.  Since she had no fever and seemed fine otherwise, I chalked it up to a fluke thing and decided to keep a watchful eye on it.  By Monday the rash had spread to her back and on Tuesday it looked downright suspicious.  Her regular doctor was naturally too busy to see her (one of the reasons  I am switching her to a different doc), so we took her to the urgent care.  After waiting a while I left Jenna in Muffin’s capable hands because I needed to get to cheerleading practice (!), but promised to keep my phone handy so he could contact me with the verdict.  Sidebar: Muffin could not figure out how to get Jenna’s dress off her for her examination, so he used scissors and CUT IT OFF.  Men.

Anyway, it’s too bad my phone is not enabled with screeching violin sounds, because that’s exactly what I heard in my head when I read the text Muffin sent me: CHICKEN POX.

Now, these days children are vaccinated against the unsightly pox, but they don’t receive the vaccination until one year, and Jenna is only eight months.  I believe, believe, BELIEVE in this vaccination because I had chicken pox at the ripe old age of 15, an age most girls are very conscious of their appearance, and let me tell you, it was God-awful.

I had the disgusting, festering pox absolutely everwhere, including up my nose, in my eyes, under my fingernails, and in every orifice (and do believe me when I say EVERY).  Besides that, I was incredibly sick on top of it.  Fever, chills, aches, nausea, crushing headache.  At one point during the evil pox I actually prayed for death to come and take me.

It was for this reason, then, that I hightailed it to the pharmacy and bought every pox-calming medical solution I could find, went home, and hoped for the best but expected the worst.  And we waited.  And nothing happened.

Jenna seemed absolutely fine, and apart from the rash seemed happy as could be, crawling around, pulling up, babbling, clapping, and playing peek-a-boo.  She didn’t seem at all ill, or itchy for that matter.  Hmm.

When we actually saw her regular doctor he deduced that she did not have chicken pox at all, but instead perhaps some kind of dermatitis or maybe just a heat rash from the feverish few days she had during teething.

Not to worry, though.  Now that I’m coaching teenagers and going back to teaching dance at the studio that is absolutely teeming with biological terrorists children, I’m sure I’ll bring home a good ol’ fashioned illness that we can really sink our teeth into.

This just in…

JENNA.  IS.  CRAWLING.

I give you the kids…

A rare shot with Jenna in a headband; Muffin thinks they make her look like Karate Kid.

Carrots!

"Playing"

As I’ve lauded much on this blog, The Sleep Easy Solution was the answer to our exhausted prayers when we wanted to get Michael sleeping through the night in his own crib (if you’re new here… hi!… you can find those posts here).  The serendipitous thought that struck us after we’d sleep trained Michael was how easy it actually was, and we vowed right then and there to sleep train baby Jenna as soon as possible (the book recommends beginning sleep training when the child reaches five months of age or 15 pounds, whichever comes first).  We’re so there!

So it was with the confidence garnered from sleep training our first child that we decided to start sleep training Jenna last weekend.  Rather than tackling all her sleep issues at once, we decided to address them one at a time.  Here is our progress:

Goal #1: Put Jenna in her crib awake at night and let her fall asleep on her own.  On Friday night we did a sleep routine with Jenna (bath, jammies, bottle, a little song) and put her to bed at 7:45.  She naturally cried, but after our check-backs at 5, 10, and finally a 15-minute interval, she put herself to sleep and all was quiet by 8:20.  In the nights since, we’ve put her to bed at 7:30 and after a few minutes of crying she’s sound asleep.  Score!

Goal #2: Put Jenna in her crib awake for all naps and let her fall asleep on her own.  The creators of the Sleep Easy program admit that the “art of the nap” is much more difficult for parents/babies to master and suggest starting nap training in tandem with night-sleep training.  Luckily, it has gone off without a hitch and Jenna now takes two long-ish (1.5 hour) naps in the morning/afternoon, and a “quickie” nap in the late afternoon, all in her crib, after being put down awake.  Bliss!  The best part of this is that Michael and Mommy get some alone time during Jenna’s morning nap, Mommy gets some alone time when BOTH KIDS take their afternoon nap, and Mommy and Jenna get some one-on-one time before Michael wakes up (he usually takes a 2-3 hour nap).

Goal #3: Get Jenna to sleep an uninterrupted 11-hour stretch through the night.  Our doctor concurs with the Sleep Easy theory that babies this age/size should metabolically be able to make it through a night without waking to eat, and that when babies do awaken in the night, it is more out of habit than hunger.  This is definitely Jenna’s problem.  As the book suggests, I have increased her formula intake today (so she’ll be getting her daily required calories during waking hours, rather than having to “catch up” over night.  Tonight we will begin the process of weaning the middle-of-the-night feed.  In a nutshell, here’s the lowdown:

1.  Wake up Jenna enough that she can drink her regular five-ounce bottle (known as a “dream feed”) ONE HOUR BEFORE she normally wakes to be fed.

2.  On night two, repeat this procedure but with a four-ounce bottle.  Do this nightly, each night reducing the bottle by an ounce, finally feeding only one ounce on the last night.  After that night, the baby should sleep and will have weaned off nighttime feeding.  (In case you’re wondering, the book also details how to wean a nighttime feed if you’re nursing.  Also, if your baby wakes more than once to feed, you’ll have to set a schedule to wean each additional feed.)

Goal #3 is the final step in Project: Get Some Sleep Before Muffin And I Go Completely Insane And Kill Each Other With Our Bare Hands.  I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.  With all the other successes we’ve had with this program, I’m extremely optimistic.

Dear Jenna,

Today you are one month old.  I wrote these letters to your brother also for the first year of his life, and this is the point in the first paragraph where I would always make some obligatory comment about how fast the time was flying by.  But seriously?  A month?  How did that happen already?

As recently as a week ago I wondered how in the world I was going to do this.  How was I going to change two sets of diapers that always seemed to be dirty at the same time?  How would I feed two children that always seemed to be hungry simultaneously?  How would I do all the laundry?  MY GOD, THE LAUNDRY!  But in the last few days it's as if a ray of sunshine has shot right through me, and I am looking at each new day with bright eyes and a happy heart.  Two kids?  I can do this!  Diapers?  Bottles?  Laundry?  BRING IT.

I chalk my earlier funk up to the good ol' baby blues which seem to have bid me adieu, and it's just one more topic of conversation I'm putting on the list of important discussions to have with you when you are older.  I can just see my forty-something self consoling your twenty-something self after you've had your first baby, saying, "It's alright honey.  That feeling like you're never going to brush your hair again and that your ass will become as big as a mack truck because you'll never find the time to exercise?  Normal!  Totally normal!  It'll pass!"  Also, a note about that age thing; when you are in your twenties I'll be in my forties.  When you're in your thirties I'll be in my forties.  And when you're in your forties, well, you'll understand why I'm still forty!

The last week or so we've started to get into a pretty good routine.  You and your brother get up at roughly the same time and I spend the first hour of my day getting everybody changed and fed, sometimes even myself.  Then I drink a cup of coffee as big as my head, and then I proceed to get everybody dressed and freshened up, sometimes even myself.

Something you will learn about your mother, dear Jenna, is that I am what some might refer to as "high maintenance."  I take pride in my appearance and as such nary a day goes by that I don't wear makeup and do my hair.  I don't care if I do have a newborn infant and a toddler underfoot… I will wear MASCARA dammit!  Every morning I put you in your little rocking chair and bring you into the bathroom with me while I get ready for the day.  And even if you've been fussy, during this time you are always quiet and watch me with great interest, as if you're a party to something really important and should pay attention.  And if you take but one thing away from it, I hope it is the following lession: My compulsion to always look as nice as I can might be misconstrued by some as vanity or egotism, but it is neither.  This is a wide and wonderful world we live in, a world that has given me so many awesome things (like you), and every day in return I want to greet that world with the best possible version of myself I have to offer.  You should always value every inch of your being, inside and out.  You are beautiful.  Let the whole world see it! 

Speaking of which, one of the most exciting things about the anticipation of having a baby is wondering what he or she is going to look like, and I must say I am awed and surprised by your appearance.  In the first moments after your birth I swore you looked just like Michael (though it could have been the drugs talking), but as each day passes you become more and more your own person, an individual, a stand-out.  And a beauty, if I do say so myself.  Where Michael has sparse sandy blonde curls, you have loads of hair so dark brown it is almost black; where Michael has green eyes, yours seem to be headed for brown.  Where Michael has always been thin as a rail you are pleasingly plump (and a whopping ten pounds already!).  And where Michael has pale, fair skin, you have the kind of even, olive complextion that looks like a year-round tan.  I suspect that some or all of these attributes came from your Grandpa Chase, whose Black Irish roots are the cause of much speculation.  You also have beautiful, plump lips, a gentle cleft in your chin, and one very deep dimple in your right cheek (and I would SWEAR that on occasion you are smiling).  It's not just because I'm your mother.  My dear, you are stunning.

Speaking of your brother… oy.  Where do I begin?

Someday when you are older you are going to love having a big brother.  I know, because I'm lucky enough to have three of them.  Right now though, it might be hard to see that.  Your brother is alternately fascinated by you and jealous of you, both interested in you and interested in seeing just how far he can push you before you start screaming.  For example, whenever you are in your boppy, swing, or under your play gym, your brother decides that he also, miraculously, wants to be in the boppy, swing, or under the gym.  Never mind that he is too big for all of the above…

Even though he may be jealous at times, though, your brother still maintains some concern for your care and well-being.  Whenever he hears you cry, for example, he'll inform me, "Baby crying!  Change-a diaper!" or "Baby crying!  Feed-a bottle!"  He also loves to be a "big helper" (his words).  His favorite time of day is when we give you a bath, usually around 7 pm.  He starts asking, "Jenna take-a bath?" around 3 pm, and when we finally agree that yes, it's time for your bath, he happily trots off to go fetch your infant bathtub and insists we put his footstool down so he can watch.  He also especially loves it when you "play" with him, and when you are sitting in your baby rocker he will often bring you toys, until your lap is overflowing with cars, blocks, and books. I cringed earlier today when he threw a basketball directly at your head, expecting you to catch it (you didn't.  You're lucky your mom has quick reflexes).  I can't wait until you are Michael's age and he is four, because I know that by then you can REALLY do some good playing.

But seriously.  Your brother loves you, I promise.

Having a big brother so close to you in age means that unfortunately we don't get a lot of one on one time together.  So to make up for it you usually wake up at 11 pm, 2 am, and 5 am, so we can have a little girl time together (though daddy usually pitches in for a feeding… thanks, daddy!).  At first we would just change, feed, and rock you in our dark bedroom, where you would stay awake for sometimes two hours before going back to sleep.  So I decided that if you were going to be awake for that long I might as well tune in to some late night TV while I fed you.  Bingo!  The first night I tried this we caught an awesome program on VH1 Classic (FYI, the best channel ever) called "All Time Top 10," and on this particular night (morning?), the featured artist was Bon Jovi.  Apparently all you needed was a little "Bad Medicine," because after about ten minutes of the soothing sounds of Jon and the boys you were out like a light.  Every night since we watch TV during your middle of the night feedings and you're always back to sleep within 20 minutes.  Upside?  Mommy gets to catch up on her stories.  Better parenting through TiVO… don't knock it till you've tried it!

Since your arrival, Jenna, I have been thinking a lot about mothers and daughters, about my own mother, and about the kind of mother I hope to be to you.  There is no relationship more important, more wonderful, but also more delicate than that of a relationship between a mother and daughter.

When you're growing up sometimes it's hard to see your mother for who she really is; it's only in adulthood, or maybe when you become a mother yourself, that you really begin to understand your own mother.  When my own mother wouldn't let me stay out really late or go as I pleased I thought she was just being unnecessarily overprotective; now I know that she was just trying to prevent me from making mistakes that could have hurt me.  When she wouldn't buy me the most expensive prom dress and instead suggested I get a weekend job, I thought she was being mean; I later realized that she was teaching me the value of working hard.

Your middle name is the same as your grandmother's and whenever you hear it I want you to know you share it with one of the most loving, fearless, strong women I've ever known.  I didn't always see that when I was growing up, but I see it now.

Someday you'll be a teenager and you'll probably think me oveprotective, mean, or any number of other things, but later on, when you're older, I hope the woman you call mother will be one whose lessons have turned you into the wonderful person you're destined to become…

My beautiful, beautiful Jenna June.

All my love,
Mama