My kid hates winter... can I trade him in?

The Little Ninja doesn't like the snow. Seriously. MY kid. Was he switched at birth? While all I read lately are messages from mommy friends enthusiastically reporting how much their kid likes the snow, complete with photos of said kid gleefully being pulled along on a sled, or rolling in the snow, or even skating, I jealously report that I can't say that about the Little Ninja. HE HATES WINTER. 

We've gone out in the snow. We dress up warm. He whines. He cries. He screams. He refuses to get on the sled, flailing about like I'm trying to drop him into hot oil or something. He refuses to try skating, kicking out at me to get the blades off his boots, almost maiming me in the process (Little Ninja remains an apt nickname). 

Now my question is this: is this a phase? Will he grow out of it? Will he like winter next year? Is he just showing his stubborn almost-two-year-old defiance of everything, particularly things that I obviously seem to want? Is that all this is? Or is there something fundamentally different about him, something he may have gotten from his father... Does he really hate winter? Will he always? Am I doomed to always ski and sled and skate alone?

The Little Ninja has been displaying some frustrating behaviour lately. He hits. He throws things. He doesn't listen. He whines. And most recently, he answers "no" to everything.

Are you hungry? No.
Do you want a banana? No.
What do you want? No.

I thought the whole "no" thing was part of the terrible twos. Did I miss something? I thought that was basically the definition: whiny toddlers that say "no" to everything.

So am I wrong in this belief, or it is the 'terrible twos' that are the misnomer? The Little Ninja, after all, is still  four months away from turning two. Should I expect this behaviour to get worse when he is in fact two, or is he just early reaching this infamous phase?

Either way, I clearly need to do something about his behaviour. I think it's called parenting. Help!

Getting back to normal

Today we put our CDs back where they belong.

Where The Little Ninja's toys had taken over the bottom shelves and where we had removed the CDs from the lowest 4 rows or so in an effort to keep them out of TLN's grabby little hands, there reside CDs once again. We need a new place for TLN's toys, of course, but I'm hoping to use this as an excuse to get rid of some of them. The Box - a really nice wooden playpen that is currently getting very little use - is slowly acquiring a horde of stuff we want out of immediate view (like the Duplo box, for example). Ultimately, however, we hope to sell that too. And then we'll just be swimming in the tidal wave of toys displaced by the missing prison-like enclosure of The Box. Cross that bridge when we get to it, though, right?

For now, I'm reveling in the freedom to actually access music by bands that start with S - Z. Bring on The Tea Party, Yellow Monkey, and X Japan!

I see the light

I realized last night that I might actually, (finally,) be starting to enjoy this whole motherhood thing. While some of you might smugly be thinking 'what does she know? Her kid's only 19 months old, just wait until.... (insert horrible upcoming childhood phase)', I see it differently. I see it as the light at the end of a grim, dark tunnel.

The last couple of years have taught me some things about myself:

• I don't enjoy pregnancy
• My body does not naturally know how to give birth
• I don't enjoy taking care of a baby
• I have too little patience to deal with a baby

But that is over now. The Little Ninja isn't a baby anymore! And should we indeed choose never to have another child, that I am done with all that shit forever. (Cheer with me!)

The mind-numbingly frustrating period of crying and guessing and not sleeping, called babyhood, is over, and I see the light of childhood. The Little Ninja walks and talks. He can do stuff. He understands what I say (generally). I understand what he says (50/50, maybe). I can actually teach him stuff now. Stuff that he learns and remembers.

But it's such a huge difference, hanging out and playing with this little boy from carrying around the demanding baby. I actually like it now. It almost makes me want to have another! (Insert ironic laugh/cry.)

The Little Ninja who could...

Walk!!!

Obviously my rant a month ago about my kid not walking described a temporary frustration. And it is over! (Cheer with me!)

The Little Ninja has set off from cruising around the furniture and let go of Mama's and Papa's hands. He walks!

The Little Ninja who couldn't...

...walk. The Little Ninja, who was, admittedly, late to sit, late to crawl and late to stand, is, unsurprisingly perhaps, late to walk. (Aside: Just trying to squeeze as many commas as I could into that sentence.) While most kids walk at around 12 months, and approximately ALL of the particular kids around us are starting even earlier, The Little Ninja is still only crawling at 18 months. I am going crazy.

While it is technically still (barely) within the range of normal development, and I don't in my heart of hearts actually believe there is anything wrong with him, I am stressed out about this. I feel pressure to do something. This pressure might be entirely imagined, but it affects me nonetheless. The worst part of this, however, is that I can't do anything about it. I can reason with myself till my face turns blue that "he'll walk when he wants to," as people keep saying to try to reassure me when I mention it, but the fact is, I don't know if I believe it. I am extremely annoyed that he can't walk yet. And I can't do anything about the walking either. Because, apparently, he WILL walk when he's good and damned well ready. And nothing I do will speed that up. Believe me. I encourage him. I walk him around while he holds on to my fingers. I reach out, hoping he'll walk to me a few steps across the room this time, instead of sitting down and crawling over, like all past experience has taught me to expect. I try not to show my disappointment and I try to stifle my jealousy when the next much younger kid is already walking. I try to stay positive, even defensively spouting the positive "I guess he's just not ready yet" nonsense in response to other people's commentary, but it's all a lie. In my head I'm screaming: Walk, Child! Just stand up and walk!

Subconsciously, I probably pass on some of this pressure and frustration, though I try not to say or do anything too negative or direct. And there will be those of you reading this (haha) that no doubt believe I should just relax because everything happens in its own time. I wish I could. Really, I do. And I try. For The Little Ninja's sake. He should be allowed to develop on his own timetable. And the sweet mother in me agrees with this wholeheartedly.

The selfish adult in me, however (who may well be more forceful than that sweet mother), is sick and tired of it:

• carrying the damned heavy kid, because this is Holland, where they don't pave everything and it rains all the time so I can never set him down without him immediately getting filthy and/or soaked
• buying new pants because he's worn the knees out (while I would like to repair them, there's just no time, frankly)
• buying new shoes because he's still supposed to wear soft shoes until he's been walking well for three months and soft shoes just cannot withstand the force of his crawling (neither can the tops of his feet, which is why we put shoes on him in the first place. That and it's cold and wet)
• grimacing and washing because his hands are constantly disgusting, because he constantly has them on the ground. I firmly believe that this would be improved by walking. Perhaps not by much right away, but eventually.
• delaying. There are so many great things to do once you can walk (or at least stand up without holding on to anything). And I want to do them with The Little Ninja. And none of them will happen this summer. Even though I wanted and expected them to. And maybe I secretly fear that they won't happen next summer, either.

Walk, Ninja! For yourself, because walking is wonderful. But also for Mama, to ease her back muscles, stress, frustration and (secret) fears.

Noodle Ninja

To our great relief, The Little Ninja is a noodle fiend too. He seems to have inherited both my own love of pasta and his father's love of Asian-style noodles. (Really, though, how could he have survived otherwise?)

Despite refusing most of the things we (adults) eat, last week he polished off a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs with me, this week he's been gobbling down fried noodles with satay sauce with Papa and today he stole the noodles from my instant pho. Seriously. I wasn't finished, he had already eaten, and he stole all of the remaining noodles from my soup. I was left with a bit of broth.

He even wanted in on my Kraft Dinner and weiners last month. My husband won't go near KD, not having grown up with it, I guess, and when I consider that it's really just pasta, butter and cheese powder, I don't really blame him. And yet, I did grow up with it and while no longer addicted as I was in high school and university, I still find myself mildly anxious when I can't get it for a while. It's comfort food. And now The Little Ninja's hooked, too. I guess we don't need to worry about what to feed him in Canada. :)

So, to our Noodle family a true son of our blood, hearts, minds and stomachs was born. And The Little Ninja became a Noodle Ninja. :)

Helmet chronicles conclusion and follow-up

Right, so during my extended hiatus from blogging, The Little Ninja completed his helmet therapy. That was in January. We are VERY PLEASED with the result. The Little Ninja's head is no longer triangular/noticeably asymmetrical. Also, he can wear normal hats. And that's the real win, isn't it?

Adding to the arsenal

Oh joy. The Little Ninja has added new weapons to his arsenal.

He was born talented, with an incredible ability he developed in utero - that of making precisely targeted strikes with his hands and feet in particular, though I have been gifted with a head butt a time or two when going in for a kiss. But recently The Little Ninja has developed new talents with his new equipment: the helmet and his barely visible tooth. And I tell you, both of them take you completely by surprise.

My experience with the head butting should have taught me better, I suppose, but I just can't help wanting to kiss and hug The Little Ninja. He's just so cute! But with his helmet, he has learned to turn his head just so - the way you would if avoiding a kiss, in fact - that the edge of the helmet strikes my nose at a remarkable velocity and strength. I back away in tears.

And to go with his piranha jaws, which he uses to clamp down on anything he can get his hands on, particularly fingers, he now has a tiny tooth peeking through the gums, like a little sliver of glass that you don't notice until it's sliced into you and you're bleeding all over the floor. Yes, that's what Mommy tastes like once you get through the outer rind.

To add to this, he is growing skilled in using one of the weapons he has had all along: his nails. As he becomes more coordinated he's learning all kinds of tricks. A new favourite is raking his nails down my face. Or trying to gouge my eyes out. Or just see if he can rip a section of my cheek from my face. You know, all in the name of fun and exploration. Of course, if I were to cut The Little Ninja's nails more often, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be able to scratch for like a minute or two. I don't know about other babies, but The Little Ninja's nails grow in FAST. I think if he stopped wriggling around and held still I could probably see them growing. Like little exacto knives sliding out on the ends of his little fingers. And just as dangerous.

The Helmet Chronicles: progress and setback

So you know how we were having so much trouble getting The Little Ninja to sleep with his helmet on at night? We totally solved that.

It seemed that the problem was mostly that he didn't want the helmet back on after his bath. My brilliant solution: bath him in the morning and since the helmet doesn't seem to bother him once it's been on for a bit, we now just NEVER TAKE IT OFF. At least, not in the evening before bed. And you guys, it worked like a charm! He sleeps! With the helmet!

And you know what else?! The helmet guy measured his head at the appointment on Saturday and IT'S ALREADY IMPROVING! Seriously, after just two weeks, and those not even full-time! Yay!

So obviously, after good news like that and much applause for my fabulous solution to the sleeping problem, it all had to go wrong.

The Little Ninja has a fever. And since he needs to be able to get rid of the heat, we have to keep the helmet off until his temperature returns to normal. So far, the helmet's been off for two days already. 2 DAYS!

Two days of mostly sleeping, on his back, no less, possibly making his flat spot worse! Not to mention that the poor little sucker obviously doesn't feel well. And that he isn't allowed at the daycare with a fever so I'm babysitting and not working. I hope the fever goes away soon, so The Little Ninja feels better and we can put the helmet back on. It doesn't work lying on the shelf, after all.

The Helmet Chronicles: Success and failure

After the success of the first week, building up the hours during the day that The Little Ninja wore his helmet, we thought we were in the clear. The Little Ninja seemed not to even notice the helmet, though he did sweat a lot. This weekend we decided it was time to extend helmet time from all day to include night.

What a freakin nightmare.

It seems he can't sleep at night with his helmet on. Or at least, that's what we deduced from the hours he spent screaming when we put him to bed. No amount of soothing, cuddling or distracting toys were any help. He rubbed his eyes, he yawned, and threw a tantrum because he couldn't sleep. For HOURS. I know the helmet guy said we were supposed to be tough and not, under any circumstances, take the helmet off when he was crying. That we had to show The Little Ninja that the helmet was there to stay and that crying would not make us take it off. He also emphasised that the longer the helmet is worn, the more effect it will have. With this haunting our thoughts, we made it through hours of screaming. But there is a limit, people. At a certain point you start questioning whether a shapely head is worth all this pain and anguish.

We totally caved.

I mean, the helmet guy isn't pulling his hair out listening to the screaming and going out of his mind trying to soothe The Little Ninja. No, that would be me. And The Recyclist. So we took off the helmet, dried off The Little Ninja's head, which by that time was totally soaked, walked around to sooth him, and then laid the little guy back in his bed. He was asleep in seconds. Seriously.

We tried it again the next night and the next night. Same thing. We are all going crazy. We go back to the helmet place next Saturday for the first check-up/adjustment. Are we going to have to tell the helmet guy that it just isn't working? That we've failed already?

The Helmet Chronicles: fitting and adjustment period

Today The Little Ninja got his helmet.

When we first arrived at the orthopedic store, we were given a cup of coffee (or in my case, tea) and went into the fitting office, where the model of The Little Ninja's head was revealed complete with helmet. We were instructed how to wash it and what to expect and given suggestions for how to 'break it in', or get The Little Ninja (and us) used to him wearing it.
The fitters had made a yellow foam model of his head and then filled up the less round bits to shape a nice, symmetrical, round head. The helmet was built on this model of The Little Ninja's ideal head. It restricts growth where his head is already protruding, and leaves space for it to grow out to fill the ideal head mold.

At first, the helmet was too long, covering his eyes and not leaving enough space for his ears. The technician marked this and then milled/ground/filed the helmet to the right shape. Once he was happy with the shape, he sanded it all smooth. It was interesting to watch. Then he put on the helmet one last time before packing it up for us to take home (with the ideal/comparison head mold inside).

We were told to take The Little Ninja home and put the helmet on him for just 15 minutes the first time, when he was fed and rested and had his familiar toys in his familiar environment to distract him. We were told to act normal so he would understand that the helmet was normal.
After we took the helmet off the first time, The Little Ninja's head was completely soaked with sweat. After just 15 minutes! We dried him off and wiped off the helmet and then an hour later we put the helmet on again, this time for half an hour. We did it! We all survived. And to be honest, I think the helmet's cute. I'm happy with the 'ice age' pattern and am already glad we decided to do this.

Tomorrow we start the adjustment period - one hour with the helmet on, one hour off. This'll be mostly The Recyclist's responsibility as I will be heading downtown for my review/writing session and dinner afterwards.

We go back in two weeks for fine-tuning or can make an appointment sooner if we have any problems or see any pressure points.

Here's hoping the adjustment period continues as well as it began!

The Helmet Chronicles: Digital Modelling and Transportation Difficulties

Today I went to Rotterdam with The Little Ninja to have his head measured for his helmet. We stuck him in a Bumbo seat with a play saucer and pulled what looked like the foot of some spotted panty hose over his head. The technician took digital pictures while spinning him around in the seat to get all sides. Some fancy computer program aligned the pictures using the dots on the head hose and came up with a 3D model of his head.

It was pretty cool, actually. And I was impressed to watch The Little Ninja sitting in the seat all by himself. Maybe we should get one of those things - Internet, he could SIT! But seeing as he's almost six months old now, he'll probably learn to sit one of these days anyway. So maybe we'll skip the Bumbo.

So by now that 3D model of my son's head has travelled cyberspace to the foam modelling people. They're going to make a physical model of his head and then fashion a helmet around that.

If that wasn't enough excitement, I got to choose the pattern for the helmet today! I was kind of disappointed, really. I thought there would be more selection. Still, I like the swirly blue one I picked. It'll be kind of like a bowling ball. But not quite that round. Or shiny.

Transport was a drag. I'm married to The Recyclist, so we're all eco-conscious and stuff. So we don't have a car. Which means I take public transport everywhere. Now, this is Holland, not Canada, so it's not the impossible task it might at first seem. However, travelling alone with a kid in a stroller makes certain transport options significantly more difficult than they would otherwise be. Like certain trams (streetcars) that have a raised floor, so I can't take these if I'm alone with The Little Ninja because I can't lift him and the stroller up the steps. And certain train stations that are under construction don't have elevators to the platforms; again - can't do it alone. As a result, the 58-minute route suggested by the handy public transport planner was a no go. I had to walk to a further stop than usual, where I took a bus to a further train station than usual, but one that did have an elevator. It was not a good connection.

Then, the level-floor train that was scheduled was replaced by a raised-floor train. Panicking, I managed to get us inside, but not in the right place so I had to sit on one of the pull-down seats rather than in a normal cushioned seat. Still. The train was on time and we got to Rotterdam on time. They also have raised-floor trams there, so I opted for the subway, which would leave me a longer walk, but that I was sure had elevators at both ends. On the way back, I realised that the particular tram that goes past the orthopedic centre is a level-floored one. Figures. I took that one downtown and went shopping. More on that next time.

Shopping complete, I headed for the nearest tain station: Rotterdam Central Station. I totally forgot, however, that Central Station is under construction and currently has no elevators. While I was trying to decide if it was worth it to take a tram back to the other station and calculate whether I'd still catch my train, a nice young guy handing out flyers offered to help me carry The Little Ninja up the stairs.

Is your jaw on the floor? Are you as surprised as I was? As I still am, hours later? That might be the first nice thing a stranger has done for me since I moved here. Six years ago.

This time the train WAS level-floored so yay. And I therefore didn't panic to get inside, but walked calmly to the correct door, allowing me to get a real seat. Yay. Not so yay was after I got off that train and went to catch the bus home. It's August still, right? That means it's summer, doesn't it? It was freaking cold and windy today (with showers) and the frigging bus didn't come. I watched two trams go by (the tall ones I can't get into alone) while I waited for the stupid bus. In the freaking cold and wind. And Ninja was getting upset too. Fun all around. Finally, though, we did get home. The next bus did come and we were home and warm not too long afterwards.

Sometimes, I wish we had a car. Today, for example, our trip would have been so much easier. And faster. But I, like my husband The Recyclist, love the Earth and am willing (for the moment at least) to suffer a few inconveniences for its sake. Or so I keep telling myself.

The War of the Sleeves

Every morning and every night, I fight a battle in the ongoing War of the Sleeves.

Day clothes, pyjamas, a jacket, whatever. If it has sleeves and I want it on The Little Ninja, there will be a battle.

Short sleeves, longs sleeves, the fight is the same. Anytime I try to dress him in anything with sleeves, no matter how I try to distract him, he squirms, whines and sometimes even screams in protest. His legs kick out in the targeted strikes he's named for, efficiently batting my hands away. His arms pull in and his thumbs stick out to work against me and the sleeve; he hasn't quite realised that the more he struggles, the longer it takes for the sleeves to capture the victory, the longer the battle.

I don't get it. I had heard that some babies don't like having shirts pulled over their heads, but that doesn't seem to be a problem for The Little Ninja. Just sleeves.

I hope he figures out that he can't possibly win this war. We don't live in a particularly warm part of the world. Sleeves are a big part of life here! I am unlikely to surrender when The Little Ninja might get frostbite as a result!

He does understand, however, when to wave the white flag. Once the sleeves are on and I let go of his arms, he admits his defeat and stops struggling. Clearly, I have won another battle. But the war rages on.

The Helmet Chronicles: Introduction

Today we had an appointment at a nearby hospital. It was a kind of intake interview for The Little Ninja and The Recyclist and I as his parents.

See, when he was about 2 weeks old, we realised that The Little Ninja had a flat spot on his head. At the back, to the left. From above, his head looked kind of triangular. Technically, this is called positional plagiocephaly. The flat spot may have been formed by his position in utero, by his 'assisted' birth, or by a preference to turn his head to his left in those first two weeks. He certainly did prefer to face slightly to the left, but I'm not sure whether that was because there was already a flat spot there, so his head just rolled into that position or because of something else, causing the flat spot. In any case, we mentioned it at our one-month Well Baby appointment and the doctor gave us some exercises to do with The Little Ninja, to try to encourage him to turn his head to the right.

At the two-month Well Baby appointment, we mentioned it again and the doctor referred us to a physiotherapist. She measured The Little Ninja's head and how misshapen it was. This is given a score on the ODDI - Oblique Diameter Difference Index. 100% would be a perfectly round, symmetrical head, which, obviously, no one really has. 100 - 104% is considered round. 104 - 108% is slightly misshapen but will probably resolve with physiotherapy. Above 108% is not likely to resolve on its own and justifies helmet therapy. The Little Ninja scored 107% at 2 months, but the real measurement would be at 5 months. This was just to give a frame of reference. The therapist gave more exercises and we made regular appointments to check the progress.

We quickly broke through the left-side preference, but the flat spot remained. No longer lying on the flat spot, a bulge appeared under the flat spot making The Little Ninja's head look somewhat less triangular.

At 5 months, the physiotherapist measured The Little Ninja's head again. After three months of turning his somewhat triangular head to the right, strengthening his neck muscles with exercises, and giving him time on this tummy so that his flat spot could grow out, he now scored 111% on the ODDI.

I don't know exactly how that happened. Maybe the first measurement was wrong, maybe the bump under the flat spot is actually worse than the flat spot, I don't know, but his head is somehow more deformed now than it was three months ago.

Which means The Little Ninja is getting a helmet. Our next appointment is on Tuesday, when they'll make a complete 3D model of his head in order to make the helmet.

Thus begins The Helmet Chronicles...

My supernova bruise

Today someone commented on the fine bruise I have on my elbow and asked about it. So I'll share it with you too, Internet. See, I scraped my elbow when I fell down the stairs the other day and a day later a cool ring bruise appeared around the scrape. I'm not fooled. The whole thing is bruised, you just can't see it where the scrape is.

And how, you ask, did I manage to fall down the stairs?

Well. See, normally it would never have happened, because I know my Dutch staircase is stupidly steep and the steps are just a bit too narrow, so I hold the railing. So obviously, it happened because I wasn't holding the railing.

And why wasn't I holding the railing?

Because I was holding my son.

So yes, I fell down the stairs while carrying my baby son, The Little Ninja. Ninjas being known for their athleticism, I have to hold mine with both hands or he'll escape.  So down the stairs we slid, me on my back, trying to stop us, and The Little Ninja on me, still trying to escape. As a result, I rug-burned/scraped my left elbow and right foot as well as my lower back. I wrenched my right knee and strained various muscles all over my body. I've been limping around like an arthritic granny for the past few days.

Luckily, ninjas also being acrobatic and skilled at tumbling, The Little Ninja emerged unscathed. He was surprised into crying and may possibly have bumped his head on one or two of the steps, but he stopped crying after about a minute and was his usual happy self. I, on the other hand, continued to cry. Not because of the pain, which was unpleasant but bearable, (I gave birth less than six months ago; I can still remember the pain. Come on, this was nothing.) but because of how close I had come to seriously injuring my son. I guess they were tears of relief that he was okay. They felt like tears of shame that I was the worst mom ever.

I understand now what moms everywhere say: I would do anything to keep my child safe. A stunning supernova bruise for defending him from the staircase? Totally worth it.

Noodles and Ninjas

Hello and welcome to my latest attempt at a blog. We'll see how it goes.

It's not a themed blog, though the title might suggest otherwise; it's just about my life. Oddly, noodles and ninjas is a remarkably apt summary. As I'm hoping you'll discover while reading this blog.

Anyway. A brief introduction probably couldn't hurt. I'm Perrin. I'm 31, married to the Recyclist. We have a baby boy, The Little Ninja (formerly known as Valentine in my now obsolete pregnancy blog, No no, it's for the baby). And we live in the Netherlands. The boys are Dutch. I'm Canadian with a splash of international.

Is that enough of an introduction? On with the blog.