Archive for December 2013

When there are houses in your city that look like this ...

When there are houses in your city that look like this …

... you brave the wrath of a tech-hungry toddler and break out the camera from its permanent hiding place.

… you brave the potential wrath of a tech-hungry toddler and break out the camera from its hiding place.

She has officially joined the ranks of youngsters afraid of Santa (up close, at least).

She has officially joined the ranks of youngsters afraid of Santa (up close, at least).

Lights, lights, lights!

Lights, lights, lights!

Merry Christmas from us and ours!

Merry Christmas from us and ours!

no poo

Posted on: 27 December 2013

So, Ashelyn is constipated … I think?

I mean, no poop for as long as a week and a half is a pretty clear indicator of constipation, right?

She’s always had a slow gut; one poop every few days was our normal. Her previous record was ten days, but she was five months old then and exclusively breastfed. I was more mystified than anxious because I knew I couldn’t have done anything wrong.

Those were simpler days, when the fibre content of her diet wasn’t on my radar. Ashelyn eats well enough, but I can never be bothered to push her to consume food she rejects by serving it in different ways or sneaking it into known favourites.

Even now, the only sign of constipation is the actual lack of poop. There’s an odd absence of associated symptoms – no bloating or apparent discomfort, normal appetite, normal pees. When I prod her belly she giggles. She’s her regular cheerful self, running and jumping and dancing all over the place, all the live long day.

Except that diaper changes seem to terrify her. It’s like she expects them to hurt. (And she says as much, sometimes. She can indicate her diaper area and say, “Hurt!” Unfortunately not specific enough to be very useful. Does it hurt now? Or do you remember it hurt once before? Or are you afraid that it will hurt?) Diaper rash has never been a problem. And we mostly just wipe her with water and cloth.

Her “poop signal” hasn’t changed – it’s a specific facial expression and crouch – it just isn’t followed by poop anymore. There’s some straining and complaining going on when she does this. I can’t tell for certain whether she’s trying to go, without success, or fighting to hold it in.

I wish I knew which it was.

As for how this came to be, my best guess is that some time ago Ashelyn had a painful poop, or a brief series of painful poops. That plus her ever-increasing agency equals – unfortunately – poop resistance. And the rest is a vicious cycle.

You’ve taken to imitating your new little cousin. And, as it turns out, you’re a stunning mimic. The first time you echoed his cry we all thought it was him! When we visit, you’ll climb into his baby rocker – perhaps you remember it from your first year? – and flail your limbs in a grand show of helplessness.

You’re awesome at saying peese, dhank you, even sahwy and excuse me … though that last one is borderline indecipherable and sounds rather like mini. But the best part of teaching you these social niceties is the following exchange:

K: Now what do you say?

"What sound does a baby make?" "Waaah!"

“What sound does a baby make?” “Waaah!”

I’ve joked about your OCD leanings, but on second thought you aren’t compulsive, just obsessive. You’ll insist on fixing a drawer with an edge of blanket sticking out. One of our ceiling lights burnt out, so daddy took off the cover until we could replace the bulb. In the interim you WOULD NOT STOP pointing out the naked socket: “Uh oh! Uh oh!” All is not right with the world!

You’re showing interest in numbers, letters, and colours. Mostly numbers and letters. Mostly 1, 2, o, p, and l. Especially 2 and o. You love the letter o, and to you 2 seems to represent all of numerology.

Although colours and shapes are only beginning to pique your interest, you’re stellar at identifying animals. We really must take you to a zoo or petting farm or something. You ask me to draw cows and ducks and pandas (and snowmen and angry birds). You ask to see pictures of owls and penguins and giraffes on the computer (thanks, google image search).


I’ve been happier with your food intake lately. You’re far more likely to eat greens if (1) they’re presented in small morsels, (2) they’re soft and mushy, and (3) I call them “leaf!” Toddler life hack.

Grandma nagged me enough that I finally trimmed your bangs, which had grown out again after she sneakily cut them a couple months ago. Now you enthusiastically tell people that scissors go “ni ni nip!” Oh, and you do the snip snip snip hand gesture, too, except with the wrong fingers. You use index and thumb, so what you’re actually demonstrating is a pinching crab claw … whatever. It’s no less cute.

Your hair is plenty long enough for clips and pigtails, if only you wouldn’t rip them out two minutes in. Sigh.

Then there was the time you woke, sat up in bed, and the first words out of your mouth were, “Morning! Love you!” And I knew all was right in the world.