She's crafty

I know many talented, crafty women who can make the most amazing things with just their own two hands, some dental floss and a battery. (Oh wait, that's MacGyver. *swoon*.)

My best friend K made a doll and doll quilt for Zoe and crafts in many media.

My sister-in-law makes tiny, detailed doll clothes and can sew pretty much anything.

Another sister-in-law made a shirt for Zoe and a doll tutu.

Yet another sister-in-law makes these shirts over at chickadeez and has made everything from felt advent calendars to muscle warming rice packs.

A good friend made Zoe adorable bean bags and homemade soaps.

Me? I got a sewing machine for my birthday (in *cough*cough* NOVEMBER) all in the hopes of finally realizing my true craft potential (or at the very least, being able to hem my Ikea curtains without using that iron-on stuff.).

I just opened the sewing machine box last week. No time like the present a few months later!

But! I made my first craft! And delivered it on Saturday to my littlest valentine.

TA DA!
Can you guess what it is?? (No, it's not a too-small dog blanket. Dog provided for scale.)

Oh SURE it may LOOK like just a piece of fabric with a few seams (and dog hair) but really it's...... okay fine it IS really simple and yet took me a few HOURS to make. Never mind, there really is nothing as sweet as giving someone you love something that you've spent several hours swearing over made.

It's a baby doll sling for Zoe!


I like to imagine us both happily carrying our tiny babies around in slings in just a few months!

Happy belated birthday Sweet Dog

Dear Sweet Dog,

Your 3rd birthday was yesterday and how did we celebrate? By leaving you at home while we went over to a friend's house for dinner. I'm so sorry about that but I think you're used to getting the shaft by now.

I am forever grateful for the extreme levels of doggy awesomeness you bring to our lives. You don't bark. You don't touch ANYTHING that isn't yours (unless it's food that's been dropped on the floor and have I praised you lately for the fact that I've rarely had to clean up under a highchair?). Your extreme patience with Zoe and her cohort never ceases to impress me. I'm sorry if we've sometimes let it go too far.



I'll make sure to "drop" some chicken on the kitchen floor sometime soon.

love,

your Clueless But Hopeful Mama

Watching for trash trucks.

Too bad crate training a toddler is not an option.

We knew it would come to this sooner or later.

Do I get any points for not zipping her in when I had the chance?

Dangers of the sibling.

On Monday I wrote about all of Z's cohort who are about to receive siblings. Truth be told, Z already has a sibling: Sweet Dog. And true to form, Z has acquired some strange habits from growing up under the tutelage of our furry little friend.

First there's the leash obsession. Z is enamored with Sweet Dog's leash and choke chain collar (Sweet Dog may be sweet but she's a huge puller and we didn't work hard enough on leash training so choke chain it is.) so we had to give her her own leash (actually Sweet Dog's puppy leash). Z especially likes to put the leash on her dollies and drag them around the room. This is slightly unnerving but far from the worst thing that happens to dollies around here.

Then there's the foot-licking fetish. Sweet Dog is a licker. To minimize my disgust, we decided early on that Sweet Dog could lick Z's feet but not any where else on her body. This has worked out in the sense that she no longer tries to lick other places on Z's body. The only downside is that Z regularly and repeatedly insists on having her feet licked. I try really hard not to think about the later-life issues possible here. (*stop thinking about foot fetishes, RIGHT NOW*)

Just last week, Z acquired a new pastime courtesy of Sweet Dog: begging for ice. My parents (Yes, I blame you guys) taught our dog that every time the freezer door opens, an ice cube can be expected to be handed over. Sweet Dog comes running, even if she's dead asleep, whenever she hears the freezer door open. Now Z does too, demanding "iith! IITH!!"

Then there's the sad and twisted fact that Sweet Dog spends most of her days on our previously off-limits couch and looks put upon if anyone is in her spot. Z, with her own chair and lots of other places to chose from, decided she would take over what Sweet Dog has never gone near: the dog bed.


Lastly, Z has started collecting the tumble weeds of dog hair that appear every 2 seconds around here. I wish I could say that this has it's merits, like if we could convince her to collect them and put them in a trashcan. Unfortunately, she mostly likes to try to return them to their source which means that the sleeping Sweet Dog often has several piles of dog hair/dustballs on her when she wakes up.

Tender.

Last weekend, the whole famn damily went on a hike in a nearby canyon with Sweet Dog. At the very end of our hike, as we passed by a picnic table full of people, a large, unleashed male boxer attacked Sweet Dog. True to her submissive ways, she whimpered and cried out and ducked for cover while FH wrestled the boxer off her and yelled at the silent, motionless owners. CG was scratched up and Sweet Dog was cowed and dirty but unhurt. We were all a little shaken.

I've felt panicked and breathless for days thinking about this. Ever since they were both babies and it was clear that Sweet Dog was not a fighter by any stretch of the imagination, one of my biggest fears is that some dog will attack us while I'm walking alone with my two girls and I will have to make a Sophie's Choice about who I will protect. (There is, of course, no question that human trumps dog, but it breaks my heart to even type that.) I've had nightmares with variations on this theme for the last few nights.

On Monday at the playground, I ran into a mom I hadn't seen since our babies were slugs. We hung out (as much as two people who are corralling and monitoring the whims of two toddlers can "hang out") for a few hours. Z was her usual self: a little reserved and careful when new or potentially scary things happened, a little slow to warm up, dismayed and sad when things didn't go her way. As we were leaving the mom said "Z is just so sweet and tender."

One might say we are all a bit tender here at Casa de Clueless.

Sweet Dog doesn't fight back. She doesn't ever even bark. While we mostly list this as, perhaps, her greatest trait and one of the many reasons we talk about cloning her, it is also somehow symbolic of how submissive she is. "Don't mind me, I'll just lie here and wait for you to notice that my eyeballs are turning yellow from pee. I wouldn't want to *shudder* bark at the back door or anything!"

I always wanted to be the person other people described as robust. Resilient. Strong.
But I have always known that I am very, very tender. Sensitive. Passive. I've done years of therapy and tons of work to be stronger and more resilient. I hope to encourage robustness in Z and I'm clueless as to how. Obviously she's hard wired a bit like me at the get-go. Then there's the whole modeling thing. She's learning from me to be..... like me: tender.

And she's always shocked whenever she hears a dog barking. Dogs? They don't bark. They just lie there and willingly get their eyes gouged out, right?

All I really need to know about parenting I learned in puppy class.

(With apologies to Robert Fulghum)


1. (Insert funny but possibly CPS-visit-worthy line about crate training- "You can leave them alone in their crate for an hour for each month of life!")
2. Praise the good behavior, ignore the bad. We are So Money with this one. So far, every time we get excited about, or just pay attention to, something Zoe does, she does more of it. If we totally ignore a mildly annoying but disgusting infraction (drinking her bath water, licking the railing at the zoo, making loud 'pfffft' sounds with a mouthful of food) and then a moment later distract her with something she likes, POOF! The infraction is gone within a few short days. It's just like when we would nonchalantly take a sock out of Sweet Dog's mouth and insert one of her chew toys and go beserk whenever she would voluntarily chose to play nicely with one of her own toys.
3. Start out with regular food as a treat and save the really good stuff for when you need it most. When Sweet Dog was a puppy, we'd give her a few pieces of kibble when she did something we liked (like pee outside, or sit). The major rewards of meaty bones were saved for when we needed her full attention or she really deserved it. Don't worry, as for Zoe, we don't exactly use treats to reward good behavior but we do keep the high level food treats to a restricted minimum. I don't really know how well this will work for us in the long run, but Zoe really doesn't know much about dessert. Chocolate, cookies, cakes, cupcakes- all have been in her vicinity but she hasn't really figured out what they're all about yet. And we hope to keep it that way for awhile. Right now, she thinks getting a pear is, like, totally awesome. (Do the kids still say "awesome"?)
4. Start working on "come" as the most important command in your arsenal. Oh my GOD. We need some serious work on this one. The girl is RUNNING now. And delights in running AWAY from us, LAUGHING as we yell in her wake: "Why can't you be like your big sister Sweet Dog? She ALWAYS comes when we call." Maybe this is where we need the big meaty bone?!
5. Always be consistent. We heard this over and over again from our dog trainer and we read it over and over again in regards to child rearing. It sounds so easy, doesn't it? Just mean what you say and follow through. Piece of cake, right? AS IF.
6. Use only positive discipline. We are really trying this one with both our girls. Sweet Dog has not been swatted or had her nose pushed in her accidents or yelled at for infractions. Zoe is only 17 months and still fairly angelic so I'll keep you posted on this how this one fairs when the terrible twos hit.
7. (Insert bizarre joke about using the clicker to reward good behaviors that only hard core dog training geeks will understand.)
8. Give them a predictable schedule and procedure that they can follow. You all know how much I *heart* my schedule. I really and truly think it helps pups and babes alike. They both have so little control over what happens to them, it helps to know what's going to happen and when so they can follow along. Sweet Dog gets fed at the same time every day. When it's bedtime, she goes right in her crate to sleep. Before Zoe's nap/bedtime, she always gets a diaper check/change, we read a book and then she helps turn out her light. And her naps and bedtime almost always happen in her crib and at a consistent time every day. Is she just naturally a great, easy, consistent sleeper? Possibly. Did we do every single thing we possibly could to encourage and ensure her great sleeping? You betcha.
9. Give them equal amounts of exercise/stimulation and downtime/affection. Both Sweet Dog and Zoe seem happiest when they've had a good outing or two for the day where they got some fresh air, got to romp and play and got a little out of breath. Both also seem happiest when that outing is proceeded and followed by some good ol'fashioned mellow play and rest at home with the usual toys and some belly rubs/kisses from mom and dad.
10. Use simple declarative instructions. We truly suck at this one. Both FH and I talk waaaaaay too much to both our dog-ter and our daughter. Our dog trainer was very clear: one or two word instructions followed by meaningful result. This seems to dovetail nicely with the whole Happiest Toddler on the Block business about using "toddlerese" so that Zoe can understand us, especially when she's upset. Unfortunately this is what we sound like most of the time: "Does Sweet Dog want a tweat? Yeeessssshhhh? How about a good sit for a tweeeaattt?" and "Zoe, I know you really want to bite my shoulder because you are teething but that hurts Mama and she really would prefer if you would teethe on one of these toys instead, okay?". We know this should really be reduced to "Sit". and "No biting, Zoe." *shove teether in mouth*.

Now if only we could teach Zoe to do her business outside in the backyard.....

(ed. Oh. my. God. The dog formerly known as Sweet Dog just caught a small squirrel in her mouth and ran around the yard with it. This is the dog to whom "attack" previously meant "lick and snuggle to death". Perhaps we should go back to some remedial training....)

Extremely patient dog.

Dear Sweet Dog,

I know you remember the good-ole days fondly. The days when YOU were our baby. When you got to splay across the bed on weekend mornings and got your belly rubbed by TWO people who had nothing else to do besides lay there for hours with the newspapers and some coffee. When you and I would take long hikes together and then come home to chase the ball in the backyard, followed by some 'training' (aka. Easy Treat Acquisition).

Those weekends seem like a lifetime ago (specifically the lifetime of one little person named Z). Boy howdy, I remember them too. (Sometimes a little TOO fondly. Some days, parenthood seems like an endless work week with a boss who whines, makes unreasonable demands and, of course, poops their pants and then has the nerve to scream and flail during the unpleasant, necessary changing of said poopy diaper. Plus? THERE IS NO WEEKEND.)

Now you have to deal with this little interloper who is not terribly interested in you. Except when you are sleeping, because that is when she decides you should wear your metal pronged collar and delights in dropping it on your head. Other times she is interested in you include: when you are eating something particularly tasty, when your eyeballs look like they could use a good gauging and when she has decided that it is YOU that should wear her hat.

For all of this, I'm sorry. But remember, you have your sister to thank for the yummy, plentiful food droppings around the dining room table, in the backseat of the car and on the patio during snack time.

I can only hope that you girls will grow up best friends and that you understand when I whisper into the velvety folds of your ear: "you will always be our first daughter".

love,

Your Clueless But Hopeful Mama.