Christmas at 18 months

Kalina's 18th month of life, that of December, has seen her very intently decorating a gingerbread house at a playdate, "helping" roll out and cut Christmas cookies, twirling around the house to Christmas music, activating our tree lights, watching damp snow through the window, reading Christmas stories and pointing out Christmas lights whenever we saw them.

And then it was Christmas Eve. Amid the flurry of a last-minute grocery-store trip, tentative napping and a very successful fishing outing (seriously?), we remembered the reason for the season and made it to church.

Grandpa joined us for the Christmas Eve service, and so we acquired three candle holders to hold through the program to sing Silent Night by candlelight at the end. We wondered how Kalina would do during an evening service, but we'll never know due to the pervasiveness of distraction these objects provided. About half of the service was spent with Kalina sitting on my lap and handing the candle holders to Grandpa and Daddy, and the other half was spent with Kalina sitting on my lap and feeding the candles in the holders to Grandpa and Daddy. Everyone had a good time, and by the end Grandpa and Daddy each managed to wrest a candle away from Kalina and set them aglow. (I thought it best not to try to hold a flaming object while my daughter tried to grab it out of my hand.)

Later that evening Matt and I thoroughly enjoyed playing Santa as we carried downstairs the toy kitchen Grandma got for Kalina and put it in front of the tree (we'd be seeing Grandma later in Minnesota for New Year's, but for obvious reasons preferred not to bring the kitchen on the plane with us). We covered it with a festive green bedsheet and stuck a bow on top. Perfect.

Christmas magic smiled on all of us the next morning when Kalina woke all of us at 6:30 instead of the week's trend of 5:30. How did she know? However, that's still a painful hour so we lounged a bit before heading downstairs.

We drew out the suspense even more by eating a healthy breakfast as Kalina chalked the sheet-covered lump in front of the Christmas tree up to another one of Mommy and Daddy's strange ideas and we all tried to pretend it didn't exist so we could save it for a big "reveal."

And finally it was time.

It was easy enough to get Kalina to open her first couple presents, but once we got to the $1 set of tiny Play-Doh canisters she couldn't be bothered to unwrap any more, large green-sheet-covered gift in the middle of the room notwithstanding. We still have yet to actually open the little cans and dig out the Play-Doh inside, by the way. They're good enough closed, and are remarkably delicious as pretend food.

Somehow Matt coaxed Kalina through one more wrapped gift, and then we hurriedly got set to have the girl unveil her big present before she wandered off entirely. Fortunately, once we'd hiked up the sheet a little, video camera rolling, she was hooked and immediately put the kitchen to work. We all ate toy eggs and Play-Doh canisters, and then rummaged through the ever-popular recycle bin treasure trove for discarded boxes and such Kalina could use in her kitchen. I donated a pot and some plastic dishes, and Kalina merrily put things away in the "refrigerator" and filled bowls with imaginary water to her heart's content.

And then we all ate lots of sugary food, but I saved the least-sugary for Kalina. She also received Goldfish crackers on demand, and raisins as well. After all, it's Christmas! (Unfortunately, she was a bit confused to see that this trend didn't continue on December 26th.)

Grandpa and Uncle Tom showed up, as well as some friends of ours with a little boy 2 weeks older than Kalina. We all had a big dinner at 2:30, and Kalina made up for her previous snacking by diving into the roast beef and even some potatoes. On my lap, of course, because she was too scared to sit in the high chair or be put down for even a second (and besides, the guest needed to use it).

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing with Grandpa and handing things to Uncle Tom. "Look, a ball made of foil! Look, a bowl! Look, a couch pillow! Look, a plastic egg!" Kalina is quite the hostess and wants to make sure everyone is entertained. Sometimes she tries a little too hard.

We have, of course, been taking lots of pictures this season and Kalina had completely gotten the hang of it. She loves holding my camera up to her nose (yes, her nose) and snapping pictures of cats, the Christmas tree and Mommy and Daddy, as well as her new kitchen (it's interesting to see what's important to her). She loyally wears the wristband while holding it, so I don't worry too nearly as much as I should about it falling. Best of all, the camera doesn't even have to be turned on. We just say "click" and the memory is preserved.

What's more, Kalina's become a pro at posing for pictures. "Time to take your picture!" we say, and she dashes off to sit in front of the Christmas tree. She knows just how it works.

Christmas wasn't quite over yesterday, though. In the hullabaloo of yesterday's gifts and the fact that we thought it somewhat wrong to force our child to open her presents, even to the point of tears, we saved a couple for this morning and they were very well received. We'll also exchange gifts later with various other groupings, including travel to snowy/wet Minnesota. Stay tuned for relatively up-to-date reportings on Kalina's festivities. After a month of preparation, the season has still barely begun!

Photo 1: Christmas morning! Photo 2: Christmas Eve Photo 3: Getting ready for the big present Photo 4: Filling a measuring cup with imaginary water Photo 5: Kalina's new Christmas outfit from "Aunt" Renee! Photo 6: Kalina and Mommy Photo 7: Kalina and Grandpa Photo 8: Taking a picture of Mommy Photo 9: Unwrapping Photo 10: Decorating a gingerbread house a few weeks ago Photo 11: Playing with Frederick on Christmas (notice the plethora of argyle!) Photo 12: A giant Christmas Eve crappie Photo 13: A large Christmas Eve catfish Video: Kitchen play

Kalina's Christmas letter

Hi all,

This is Kalina writing (again). Mommy says she loves reading your Christmas letters so much that she wanted me to send one to you. She, apparently, doesn't have time in the midst of all the festivities, not to mention pretty paper to print it on.

First, I'd like to say Merry Christmas to all of you. However, I can't--not quite, anyway. I did say something that resembled Chrixth this morning, though, so Mommy's counting it. I've also recently learned to say "please" and "thank-you," and even kind of know how to use them properly. We've been pushing this one hard the past week. Mommy says I'll find out why tomorrow. It better be worth it.

It's been a good year--and one that's encompassed almost exactly 2/3 of my life. It seems like an eternity. During that time I've grown hair and teeth (I was rather bald-ish and gummy this time last year), I've walked, asserted myself with my new-found voice (that I'm finding surprisingly handy) and slept many nights in a row without interruption (not lately, however).

In fact, Mommy and Daddy still cite their biggest accomplishment this year as getting me to sleep through the night. I held out as long as a could, but after a while it just got tiring. I needed my sleep! They still need their sleep, they assure me, seeing as I'm still something of an early bird.

This accomplishment, I should add, even edges out Daddy's triumphant graduation with his PhD from the black hole known as grad school, and his securing of an amazing job in the midst of a broken economy. Daddy has also managed to get in some good fishing and a little hunting in the area. Sleeping through the night, by the way, edges out all of Mommy's accomplishments by far.

Mommy and I have settled on a nice routine that fills most of our days, including lots of play outings, chores and trips to the store (3 trips to the grocery store this week--somebody please come rescue me!), naps (perhaps Mommy's second biggest accomplishment) and even a Bible study that I get to tag along on.

In Mommy's free time, she continues to freelance, and is gratified to see her freelance "career" ramping up instead of fading away. She also has started volunteering with a crisis pregnancy center, and relishes the pleasant, predictable hum of the copy machine as she helps out every Monday afternoon. She continues to enjoy sewing and is actually improving at it.

In my free time, I've discovered that I have an imagination, and that Lamby is probably alive, as are all my other stuffed animals. Mommy says that I may or may not grow out of this--she never has. I still love books, and listen to stories at a 1st-grade level. I also love music, animals, being outside, and helping Mommy in the kitchen.

With the permanent arrival of Aunt Nancy and Grandpa, I've survived being babysat. It was strange at first, but now I've come to rely on them, and especially on Poky the dog, who seems to hang out with us whenever Aunt Nancy is around. Mommy is proud to see that I actually can be happy in the arms of other people--and yet is daunted by the fact that it took days and even weeks of togetherness to achieve that. She is continually assured I'll grow out of my stranger and separation anxiety, but somewhat ashamedly would be okay if I lived at home through college.

We also enjoyed visits from various other friends and family members this year. Or, rather, Mommy and Daddy enjoyed them and I stuck to Mommy like glue because I was scared of most of them, except, fortunately, Grandpa and Grandma Odegaard, who I allowed to pick me up after only a couple days of near-constant interaction.

We did some traveling this year, but you can read all about that if you're so inclined by just clicking on the label "travel." I will mention that once I was sleep trained, it took Mommy and Daddy a LONG time to want to leave the house with me overnight, which is one of the main reasons we haven't traveled more (the broken economy being the other).

Finally, Mommy's making me say that more than anything under the tree this Christmas, we're thankful most of all to God for loving the world enough to send His son Jesus to us, and also for family and friends, and our nice, warm, cozy (sometimes too cozy, Mommy complains occasionally) house, our steady incomes, Mommy being able to stay home with me, our good health and our happy little family. We truly couldn't be more blessed.

Here's hoping your Christmas is merry and your New Year is bright!

Love,
Kalina

Negotiating toddlerhood

It's come to my attention lately that there's nothing easy about being a toddler. Really. It happened the other day when Kalina was asking for:

"Flrah?"
"What's that, honey?" (I pretend I didn't hear the first time, but I'm really stalling for more time to try to figure out what a "flrah" is, and then decide whether or not she can have it.)
"Flrah?" (A little louder)
"Yes, that's right!" (Maybe if I just agree, we can move onto a different conversation.)
"Flrah?" (For heaven's sake, Mommy, just answer my question!)
"Umm..." (I scan the area to look for clues. What would a toddler want?)
"Flrah?" (If I have to say this again, I'll cry, and then you'll really be in trouble.)
"Flowers?" (I hazard a guess, based on the fact that Kalina is usually accurate with the starting consonant. Hazard being the operative word, seeing as I'm wrong this time.)
"Flrah!" (Starting to turn red in the face and sob as I frantically search for the right word.)
"Water fountain!" (I proclaim.)
"Eh!" (This is Kalina's word for assent, and it's accompanied by more sobs--this time, of relief.)
"Would you like to see the water?" (I already know the answer, and I've already decided that after all this hassle, we can waste a little water for the child's entertainment.)
"Eh!" (Wide smile and a giggle or two.)

And we head off to dabble in the water, me hoisting Kalina and pushing the button, and then trying to get her close enough to touch the water without touching the mouthpiece (that's not really a mouthpiece, but gets used as such by germy kids).

And so forth. Whereas I, being a capable adult, could just walk over to the fountain, push the button and play in the water all I wanted, easily avoiding the mouthpiece thingy. Except I wouldn't want to, because I'm an adult, but Kalina doesn't understand that yet.

In fact, there's a lot the poor girl doesn't understand. Why did she get Goldfish crackers for breakfast the other day when Mommy had a long bout of insomnia in the middle of the night, but not today? Why do we change from pajamas to clothes to pajamas to clothes, endlessly? And can't we just wash our hair once and be done with it for a year or so?

But then, there are a lot of things she does understand: that Goldfish are tasty for lunch as well as breakfast, and that cats make lovely furniture. And this is where the negotiations begin, with my sanity, Kalina's temper (not to mention well-being), and the cats as hostages.

Due to poor Kalina's confusion (or is it mine?), our days are a lot of give and take. The toddler doesn't want me to cook dinner? Then we'll take a story break every five minutes. I don't want Kalina to disassemble a cheese display in the grocery store? Then I show her how much more fun it'd be to roar at a large stuffed bear an aisle over. I'd rather Kalina not dragging a sopping wet washcloth from her bath around the house? I trade her for a dry one before she knows who's got the better end of the deal. And we manage to compromise through the days together. Kalina does a good job of making sure I keep the balance fair, at least in her direction.

Sometimes there's no room for negotiation, and during these times I have exactly 1/8th of a second to decide whether I'm going to allow what Kalina wants me to allow, and how I'm going to handle the situation if I say no. Do I say an outright "no" and risk/guarantee a mini-tantrum (Kalina doesn't have full-blown ones yet)? Do I use distraction? If so, what with? And blip, my 1/8th of a second is over.

There are tricks of the trade, though. For instance, a recent mealtime showed Kalina a direct correlation between eating mashed potatoes and getting to see the cuckoo pop out of the cuckoo clock. That works great--once. The next day at lunch, I had to inform Kalina that only Daddy can operate the clock. He's also, incidentally, the only one who can push Kalina around in a laundry basket or her toy car. Mommy regrettably doesn't know how, and can't possibly learn. Besides, then Daddy gets to be the hero later on--that is, if Kalina even remembers that she was supposed to "ask Daddy later" (she rarely does).

And then there are the phrases "later," "not right now," and "in a minute." Despite the fact that I don't know off-hand what a "flrah" is, Kalina knows that these phrases mean: "no, but I reserve the right to reverse my decision later without you chalking it up to me being inconsistent and weak-willed." And I follow through whenever it makes sense to (because I never use these phrases if they're not actually possible or advisable to fulfill).

Neither Kalina nor I is afraid of saying no. Well, actually, I'm terrified of it but I try to hide my fear, and so far Kalina has fallen for it. The ironic thing is that the girl likes order in the house, even reprimanding me once with a large frown and furrowed brow for wearing shoes indoors. [They were boots, actually, and at first I thought she was criticizing my taste.] Therefore, we create a lot of new rules to accompany the word "no". "No putting your toothbrush in the trash can," and "No climbing into the dishwasher." This goes over surprisingly well, and word has it that the Olympics are adding Rule-Making-On-The-Fly as a new winter sport.

Kalina, then, has rules of her own. "No pasta for lunch!" she shakes her head vehemently, with cute little "nononos". "Raisins for lunch!" she decides. New rule. Often, I let her win because her rules generally aren't all that bad.

It's taken me a long time to realize that my rules don't have to pass the scrutiny of a hired lawyer for them to convince Kalina. For instance, we have our little routines that help us get through the day. If Kalina truly pressed the issue, I don't know if I'd have a good explanation for why we always have to get fully dressed right after the diaper change that's always right after breakfast, except for the fact that she'll need to get dressed sometime and the longer we wait, the more of a fuss it's probably going to be. How do you explain that to a 17-month-old? You don't, you create a new rule. "No playing until your socks are on," or, if we're being positive today, "You can play when your socks are on!" And that wonderful little rule becomes a habit, and then one day she'll frown at you because you're asking her to run along and play and her socks aren't on yet.

Fortunately, my career has been in advertising, so I'm pretty good at coming out ahead on a lot of our negotiations. "You don't want to play with Mommy's silly old camera that she accidentally within your reach," I convince her. "Here's a bright, shiny spoon instead. Look, you can see your reflection!" And she totally takes the bait--although I think she's wising up and I may have to change tactics lest she grow up thinking I'm uncool enough to really believe a spoon is cooler than a digital camera.

Kalina, for her part, has a career in cuteness and has been known to win the right to stuff Lamby into the bread machine simply by giggling. I call that fair, wouldn't you?

Decking the halls with Kalina

Christmas must be a magical time of the year for toddlers. Songs sung by Mommy switch from "The Wheels on the Bus" to "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer", toys get bought but not played with yet and trees mystically appear in the living room after naptime.

Kalina takes it all in stride. Yesterday she cheerfully accompanied Matt and I to a Christmas tree farm to pick out our living room's latest and greenest fixture.

We pulled into the lot and unloaded Kalina from her seat. While she took note of the farm dog, we saw that the farm sold both cut trees (mostly pricey Frasier Firs from the mountains, and a few pine) and choose-and-cut trees. Wanting to make the most of our trip and wear our toddler out for her naptime later, we chose to wander the fields of cut-your-own trees. The muddy fields. The "I guess I'll never try to dress these shoes up ever again" muddy fields.

Despite the mud, we found that Christmas tree farms make wonderful places for toddler hide-and-seek--which is right up Kalina's alley. As long as I didn't go more than 20 feet away and stayed primarily within sight, she was happy to play it with me.

Although many of the trees wore blue tags, which designated them as reduced-price Charlie Brown trees, we found many nice ones. Agonizing over the decision for a good half an hour (really? should we cut our own? these are pretty nice. it doesn't have to be perfect. really? how about this one? or that one? this one is great as long as you look at it from this angle. that would be perfect if it were a foot shorter. could we cut it? no, we'd lose too much foliage. really?), we finally left the decision up to Kalina and set her loose.

She headed straight for a stump and wouldn't budge.

That and the fact that lunchtime and naptime were approaching convinced us that maybe we'd better head back to the pre-cut trees, thus chalking our field expedition up to unproductive fun.

Back at the lot, we were faced with about five minutes to make a decision, a poopy diaper, and dried-out wipes, so we decided to divide and conquer. I settled on a nice white pine tree while Matt tried to find a space in my crowded car to change the diaper, and then I changed the diaper while Matt gave the tree, which he could only hope was the right one (second from the left, right?), a thumbs-up and paid for it.

So much for a magical picture of my little girl "choosing" the tree. So much for spending more than two minutes making sure the trunk wasn't crooked, the needles weren't brown or the height wouldn't be a problem. Fortunately, the magic of Christmas smiled on us and it's quite a pretty tree.

We set it up in the living room during Kalina's nap, curious to see how she'd take the new addition.

To our slight disappointment, she gave it about as much notice as she does the stock market.

Does this mean she thinks we're always doing crazy things like dragging live trees into our living room? Have such things become commonplace?

After supper, we all decorated the tree to Christmas music. Christmas decorations can be no end of fun to a toddler, but only if you don't mind having them end up shattered on the floor (yes, one did).

Fortunately, though, some were toddler-proof and produced far more delight than the tree itself. The beads were a big hit. Kalina:
1. Scooped them up in her hands
2. Pulled a string of them around the house
3. Watched as I pulled the string around and the cat followed
4. Put them around her waist, wrists and shoulders
5. Pulled the string around for the cat to follow
6. Tried to "deck the cat" with them
7. Watched as Daddy made waves with them on the floor
8. Made waves with them on the floor

Not bad, and a physics lesson to boot.

The other big hit was the nativity scene. Utterly engrossed for several minutes, baa-ing occasionally, Kalina allowed several sheep, the dog and Baby Jesus inhabit the stable. What is she trying to tell us?

I started telling her about Baby Jesus, and Mary and Joseph, but the story got complicated pretty fast. "Where do the sheep come in?" Kalina wanted to know.

We narrowly finished decorating before bedtime--in fact some of the ornaments got veritably tossed onto the tree. Yes, Kalina helped, but she's better at finding a spot for an ornament than actually hooking it on.

And yes, she's mostly avoided climbing the tree, pulling it over onto herself, pulling any of the ornaments off or tasting the it, as far as we've seen. And, based on her Christmas music dance moves and affinity for cooled hot chocolate, I'm considering her an expert at seasonal merrymaking. Carry on, my Christmas Cutie.