Yo Gabba what??

As a first-time parent, I've really tried to follow the rules; no peanut butter until she was one, no cereal in her bottle, make every attempt at developing a routine yadda, yadda, yadda. But admittedly, there was always one rule that would inexplicably make my eyes role just by hearing someone mention it. It was the no TV before two years old rule. If you were born before 1980 are unaware of this and saying to yourself, "No TV? What kind of world are we raising our kids in?!" then let me explain. Those cockamamie experts over at the American Academy of Pediatrics have laid out guidelines stating that children over the age of two should watch no more than one to two hours a day of quality programming (unfortunately I don't think they include CSI under the heading of "quality programming" for a toddler). For children under the age of two, like Zoe, they should be watching zero TV. That's right, none at all.

Apparently they require you to be childless to work at the AAP.

I'd like to say that we haven't turned the TV on in the last 23 months, but that would be a lie. Zoe has frankly seen a working TV since day one. She actually knows how to turn it on now. I, for a long time was of the school of thought (and sounding much like a great grandparent) that I watched TV as a kid and I turned out fine. But as Zoe has become more and more interested in television and more selective about what is on, I finally figured out what the AAP had been doing all along, trying to save me. The situation is like the joke about the priest who was floating in the water after his boat capsized. Three boats came by to help him each met with the priest's insistence that God will save him. He dies, goes to Heaven and asks God, "why didn't you save me?" God says, "I sent you three ships." Why didn't anyone tell me how strange and annoying kids television is these days? They gave me the warning.

I'm not sure how I would rank them all, but I can tell you that there is a very real chance that the makers of Yo Gabba Gabba are still on a 60's acid trip (a la Puff the Magic Dragon). A main character of Wonder Pets constantly talks in a lisp ("This is sewious!). And the Backyardingans, while a moderately cute show, will suddenly break out into a Broadway musical number about sharing. Zoe's favorite is a strange little Canadian boy named Caillou.

Don't get me wrong, the shows are innately fine and I consider myself lucky that I've managed to mostly avoid Barney. But I wonder where the "good stuff" is from my childhood. How the heck will kids these days learn about the function of a conjunction? When will they understand the rainbow connection? Wasn't there some educational component of Captain Caveman and the Teen Angels?

Zoe not only now watches TV, from 7:30pm until 8:00pm (her bedtime) she owns it by repeatedly saying "show, show." I sigh, grab the remote that once belonged to me and tune in for another exciting episode about a boy from Canada.

Next time, AAP, I will read between the lines.

Am I really half way to 70?

My husband left today to go to Atlanta for the weekend for work. This getaway of his affords me plenty of time to contemplate the fact that in just five short days I will be turning the ripe old age of 35; not as much fun as it sounds. For anyone who knows Mike, you know that the only benefit to him being gone is that I get to avoid his constant reminding that as of Tuesday, according to his slightly warped mind punctuated with his obvious lack of math skills, he will be two years younger than me (for two whole weeks).

It's a funny thing getting older, it seems that the more birthdays I have, the more they become an introspective sort thing while morphing into, on occasion, the inevitable question of should I be doing more. I mean, hell, the woman running for VP is only nine years my senior and she has five times as many kids as I have (not there is much evidence she was doing a whole lot at 35; had to get my party loyalty dig in there). I think it's safe to say that no one will ever consider me for second-in-commander to the leader of the free world no matter how comprehensive the vetting process. I'm not even sure how much power Sadie thinks I wield. My job is OK on its best day, I couldn't say with much certainty which state I will be living in in six months and Zoe prefers fake chicken fingers over any "culinary masterpiece" I am able to eek out in the kitchen. Maybe I am watching too much Entertainment Tonight to be based in reality and have begun to see the likes of Angelina Jolie (two years my junior by the way) as "normal" as she globe trots and saves the world all while eight months pregnant, covered in adopted children and lousing with humanitarianism. I, on the other hand, feel like Mother Theresa when I give blood once a year.

Some of you may be wondering if maybe I've hit the bottle of whisky and begun listening to too many county songs (save her from the south!). Some of you are happy to get the reminder to send me a birthday card (hint, hint). And others of you are thinking out loud what in the world does this have to do with Zoe, the only reason you take the time to read this blog. Well, no whiskey is being had (although I wouldn't discount a glass of cheap chardonnay this weekend) and this entry is written, in part, as a subtle reminder that my readers may want to hit a Hallmark this weekend.

And as for the last question, it has everything to do with Zoe. I've decided when I turn 35, my goal will be to become her. Not in the literal sense you understand. Her incredible use of ketchup is nothing short of nauseating and she is entirely too obsessed with Elmo for my liking. But I'd like to incorporate more moxie into my life, much like her. I'd like to become braver just like she was when entering her new daycare for the first time. I'd like to meet new friends in the same manner as she does, by simply walking up an introducing myself just because they seem nice. I'd like to be able to say "no" once in while when I really don't want to do something with no guilt and no excuses (but maybe without the screaming, fall-down, red-faced tantrum). Conversely, I like to be able to just flat out ask for something I want without the "adult" in me getting in the way. I'd like to be able to try new things constantly without a week-long calculation of what might happen if I fail. The bottom line, she is awesome and for my birthday, I want to be awesome too.

Take that Angelina. Happy birthday to me!

The newest addition to the Fuller family

Name: Mitsubishi Outlander
Born: 2007
Weight: 3,532 lbs
Length: 182.7 "

Vacation II

Yes you are reading correctly, we just got back from yet another summer vacation (we deserve it, dammit!). This time it was with my people on the coast of the beautiful state of New Jersey (I just volley them up). We stayed at an unbelievable beach-front condo in Sea Isle City with my parents and a spattering of other visiting family members. In typical Zoekat blog style, I will resort to my top ten list, used only for vacation posts, but first a house update; we had a friend of mine and her husband come by to look at the house last night and received positive feedback. . . fingers crossed.

10. Rules for flying with a toddler are simple: 1. Buy them a seat 2. Fly direct 3. Reserve an entire carry on for graham crackers.

9. No matter how much I want the Himalaya ride, found frequently on Jersey boardwalks, to be as exciting as my childhood memories think it is, it just isn't. However, I did remember to sit on the inside.

8. But Mack and Mancos pizza will always be the same.

7. Even shore houses have timeout spots.

6. Zoe loves the beach but is cautious about the water. That is quite possibly because the ocean water found in New Jersey is about 50 degrees colder than the ocean water found in Georgia.

5. Kayaking isn't as difficult as it seems, that is unless you risk life and limb by crossing the wake zone boat channel to get to the island with the ice cream vessel.

4. I don't want to say it, but I have to; Mike and my mom beat me and my dad at pinochle. Happy?

3. Too many bottles of wine makes for meteor sitings and daring police shootouts.

2. Mike and my dad build sand castles with the skill and focus of structural engineers; taking into consideration sand firmness, tidal charts and destructive toddlers.

1. Hopefully next year this vacation will be repeated with just a short drive. You're right, mom, we should have stayed until Labor Day.

Cinderella, time outs and more. . Part II

For the more dedicated readers of the blog, you may remember a previous post about my attempts at discipline written back when Zoe was just a wee one, when her only transgression was her migration toward the dog food. A refresher from a year ago:

"Yes, the word discipline is put in quotes to illustrate just how loosely I am meaning it. Frankly, it has become a game and I am the only one playing; so the question you need to ask yourself is if I am the only one playing, how can I be losing?"

It seems Zoe has joined the game but she has joined the varsity team while I have lingered back on the JV squad wondering when I will be good enough to leave the bench. Like any good mother of a toddler I have joined the wonderful world of timeouts. It seems like a right of passage for both myself and Zoe and at first I welcomed the challenge. I started dolling them out for only the most egregious of behaviors, hitting and the like. The first few timeouts she was upset but I did feel a strange motherly superpower of sorts when she actually stayed in the corner. I mean, I was an amateur and surely would have caved if she decided to look at me like I was crazy and simply got up and walked away. But she didn't, she stayed there and cried just enough to tell me that I was getting my point across, once again give me a false sense of confidence in my mothering skills (when will I learn).

The other day, this changed. She was opening the dishwasher for about the 467th time that day. My response, "if you do that again, you'll go into a timeout." An idol threat made by a frustrated mom to be sure. But Zoe didn't continue to play with dishwasher. She didn't throw a tantrum to illustrate her defiance. She stopped, looked at me matter-of-factly, and moved on to varsity. She walked away from the dishwasher straight to her time out corner (yes, there is a dedicated portion of the house and no we do not use this as a selling point) and just sat down. No tears, no getting up; she just sat there. I was admittedly a little dumbfounded. At first I was patting myself on the back. "Look how much respect I command!" I said to myself. "After my next blog post, the world needs my philosophy on discipline so I will begin a book and a subsequent tour!" And then slowly it dawned on me, the same way it had dawned on me that she was a biter; Zoe doesn't mind timeouts and if she doesn't mind the only discipline tool I have in my proverbial child-rearing toolbox, my life is about to get just a little more interesting.

You, as readers, are in the stands, Vegas odds are not in my favor, the whistle has blown, and the game has just begun. Wish me luck.

Cinderella, time outs and more. . Part I

Seems I am right back where I started with this blogging thing. What's that saying about good intentions? Let's see, when last we left Zoe was showing off some dance moves. Since then we have been pretty busy but before I get into Zoe's latest shenanigans let give a brief update on the sale of the house; no bites. Ok, now let's continue.

This will be a two-part post since I have been so remiss about updating. Part I. . . The Vacation. We spent a week in The Villages of Florida with Zoe's very brave grandparents, Zoe's aunt Karen and uncle Ryan and four-year-old Kaitlyn and two-year-old Owen (told you they were brave, or crazy). I think I'll keep the vacation top ten list trend going.

10. Zoe had her first experience with The Magic Kingdom complete with Small World (I still wake up at night in a cold sweat sometimes with that song bouncing around my head), lunch in Cinderella's castle, and the kind of heat only Florida in July with a million other people could provide. Zoe loved it taking special interest in the parade and the merry-go-round. If any Disney executives have stumbled across this blog, take note that in addition to the characters, food and general merriment, Zoe would also like to see a special nap area.

9. Ahh, the joys of watching a child learn. Of course that is until her cousins teach her the word "no" and "mine." Later, joy.

8. The Villages is a strange and wonderful place. You can relax on your patio while enjoying the cool morning breeze. You can take in a round of golf with new friends. Or you can head down to the only bar open past nine and get plastered while hitting on other retirees or become a twirler in your 80's. The world is your crazy oyster.

7. Dave cheats at contract rummy. It's time you came clean for the sake of the game.

6. When your parents offer to babysit while you go to a movie for the first time in two years, run, don't walk, don't past go and don't even care about what the movie is.

5. Go green, drive a golf cart.

4. Getting professional photos taken at Walmart is more difficult than it seems (but just as funny) with four adults and three children under the age of five. I think even the greeters were wondering what the hell was going on behind the curtain.

3. My pitching wedge used to be the bane of my golf existence. I think it used to actually laugh at me when I pulled it out of my bag. Not this time; chalk it up to Villages magic (it is Pleasantville) but I think I've tamed the beast.

2. Zoe became more generous with her kissing and began kissing everyone good night.

1. It was the perfect vacation complete with stolen relaxing moments, crazy childhood chaos, princesses, and most importantly, family. The Villages is Pleasantville.

Fancy Footwork