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We have reached a milestone with Jellybean. The best thing about reaching this milestone is the collaborative effort involved: from Jellybean, L and me. It was a long, long time coming, but I can say with confidence that we have arrived at mission accomplished.

Jellybean now stays dry all night. No Pull-Ups anymore (after all my trials and tribulations with them)! And we didn't lose too much sleep in the process.

Deciding to cross the dry-all-night line was not something we planned in advance. The project started spontaneously one night when L couldn't get Jellybean to put on her Pull-Up at bedtime. He announced to me, "She's going to try to stay dry tonight! Isn't that great?" Umm, no. And I had about 25 reasons why, including that I was tired that night; I didn't wanna be up in the middle of the night changing the bed. We were, though. Twice.

I was irritated with L. Jellybean is such a deep sleeper, and I didn't think she was anywhere close to being able to wake up when she had to pee. As you can see, I was just wrong.

We had several middle-of-the-night bed changes. But, for once, Jellybean was showing determination. She WANTED to be dry. So I went with it. And, to keep everything (and everyone) positive, I added an incentive: When she could stay dry 7 nights in a row, she would get a special prize. We had a few hiccups en route to 7 nights -- but not near as many as I expected. She finally did it! I was prepared for a relapse after that, but she said she's done with Pull-Ups.

Although 2 years younger, Peanut hasn't used Pull-Ups for about 6 months. I gave her a special prize when Jellybean got one.

So, I am very happy to say that we are a disposable-pants-free household for the first time in 5 years. Yeehaw!

P.S. You'll note by the photo that I caved once again to the "princessant" demands for Halloween.

OMG, kindergarten

Denial can be a happy place, really it can. I have been very happy this summer, doing all the summer things with the kids and enjoying our family being nearby. Happy, happy in denial-land, ignoring what is so rapidly approaching: the school year. Because, this year, the school year means something big for my little Jellybean. She's going to be in kindergarten.

There, I said it. I'm starting to emerge from that happy place called denial. Kindergarten is really going to happen. I have the school registration form and the school supplies to prove it. It's going to happen -- the question is, how? How is my little Jellybean going to go to that big school with all those kids for ALL-DAY kindergarten? She's so little and so innocent and still takes a nap a couple times a week, for heaven's sakes! Every time I think about it, I imagine Jellybean being so sweet and good at school, diligently listening to her teacher -- and then coming home at the end of the day and instantly transforming into a hungry, tired MONSTER. Even my daydreams can't conjure a different scenario.

And that's how she's going to be. What about me?! All these years of us hanging out together -- even when she was in preschool, we still had lunch together every day. A part of me is so thrilled she gets to go to such a wonderful school with all these great teachers and people. But the rest of me is just torn apart at the prospect.

I know so many moms who have sent their first kid to kindergarten in the past couple years. They've all told me all about it, given me advice to prepare me for when my own kid did the same. But, denial. I was still living so happily in denial. And now I no longer reside in denial. So, please, help me figure out how we're going to survive this transition.

Don't judge a kid by their height

Jellybean is tall for her age (she'll be 4 in a couple weeks). In fact, she's tall for a year older than her age. She clearly takes after L's side of the family -- I'm 5'4", and he's about 6'4".

When Jellybean was born, I became pretty adept at guessing ages of other babies, based on their size and what they were capable of. Then, as she became a toddler, I could look at other toddlers and gauge if they were younger or older, usually by how tall they were and how well they walked, etc. She has been very tall for her age since she started walking. It was a good lesson for me to have the super-tall kid, so that I didn't make too many assumptions about other people's kids at the park or play places.

L's brother is 6'7". I have heard L's mom talk since Jellybean was born -- and probably even before that -- about what a struggle L's brother had with always being the tallest kid. People, including his teachers, expected more from him because he was so tall. They would be out somewhere, and an adult or other child would ask him a question and be puzzled with his response. They didn't realize the child they were talking to was 2 years younger than they thought!

Jellybean has continued on the height trajectory similar to L's brother. Now that she is in preschool and interacting more with kids and adults, her height is affecting more and more situations. Even when other kids and adults know her age, they have trouble reconciling that a 3-year-old is the same size as a tall 5-year-old. Combining her height with her strong verbal ability makes it even more of a sticky wicket. Jellybean's preschool teachers have been very good at remembering her abilities, and she's in a mixed-age class, so all the children are accustomed to dealing with others of varying ages. I'd like to say I thought of that ahead of time and that's why we chose this preschool, but it's just luck.

Because I (obviously) have never had experience being "the tall kid," her height/age discrepancy is something I am working on being proactive with out in public social situations. We had an issue the other day of both a child and a mom getting frustrated at Jellybean for not comprehending a social situation. They were forgetting that she is not quite 4. It's easy to do.

So I'm experimenting with different ways to approach this and convey it to strangers, so as to avoid situations like the one the other day. I have a feeling it will be a process for years to come, unless her growth curve plateaus.

Fearing fear itself

Jellybean is afraid of dogs (and cats). No, make that terrified of dogs. And it seems to be getting worse with time. L and I are completely at a loss as to what to do. It's awful to see her afraid, and the fear literally paralyzes her at times. And now, we seem to have the added effect of the fear becoming contagious to our previously animal-loving Peanut. I've mentioned Jellybean's fear of thunderstorms before, but her fear of dogs surpasses even that.

L is not quite the animal lover that I am. But he certainly isn't afraid of them. We have no clue where Jellybean's fear originated. As far as we know, she hasn't had a particular encounter with dogs or cats that set her off. When we first noticed her hesitation around animals, she wasn't quite 2, and when you're short, even small dogs are intimidating. Well, now she's almost 4 and is as tall as most 5-6-year-olds. So, height isn't the issue.

Here's the magnitude of her fear. If we're at a park and she's, say, on a swing and spots a dog headed for the park -- up to 50 yards away -- she'll start stressing. She will stay on the swing and refuse to get off until the dog is clearly headed in another direction. If we arrive to a park that already has a dog in attendance, she clings to me and whimpers -- even when the dog is clearly leashed or secured to something. I have to extricate myself from her and help her find an activity that doesn't involve being within 10 feet of the dog. If we're walking on the sidewalk and a leashed dog is approaching with its owner, Jellybean grabs me and tries to drag me off the sidewalk, hanging on for dear life as the dog passes. Loose dogs are off-the-charts scary for her (as are loose cats, which I learned about in two separate incidents in the past week that resulted in Jellybean hysterically crying when cats ambled toward our path).

She has petted dogs a couple of times, mostly when she's seen her peers or Peanut do so first. But those pleasant encounters have done absolutely nothing to make inroads with her fear. I have tried to discuss it with her calmly at other times, I have tried desensitizing her, I have done about everything I can think of.

Because of what her fear does to her, I find myself resenting dog owners at times. Why do you have to bring your dog onto the playground when you don't even have kids playing? Why is your dog running loose around the park? But, how could they know that people can be as afraid of dogs as Jellybean? I certainly never did when I had dogs.

I don't know what to do. I need to do some research and make a plan ASAP, though, before we end up with 2 kids afraid of dogs instead of just one.

Quilt problem all stitched up?

Our quilt crisis may be solved. We didn't plan it, it just happened, and it was way simpler than I imagined.

Previously, I had thought we might be able to have Jellybean's heirloom quilt/security blanket repaired by a seamstress or quilter. My quilting neighbor graciously invited me to bring the quilt to a quilting circle. All of the ladies there examined the quilt closely, and the consensus was that it could be repaired, restored and redone, but it wouldn't be the same. For one, it would lose its softness from being hand-sewn and "loved" by so many children (it was L's and his brother's before it was Jellybean's). That would be significant, given that she sleeps with it every minute.

So I was pondering elaborate scenarios like leaving it for the "quilt fairy" to take and having the quilt fairy replace it with a new quilt -- similar to what some people do with their pacifiers. I hadn't come to a decision about the whole thing.

Then, a couple days ago Jellybean woke up in the morning and told me her quilt was wet. Her Pull-Up had leaked (yes, we're having this problem again) onto the quilt a bit. So, I took it away to hand wash it, and of course it wasn't dry by naptime. So I grabbed an organic cotton blanket we have that I LOVE, and had it on Jellybean's bed for naptime. I was ready for a mini-crisis about the blanket and prepared to explain that she'd have it back tomorrow, etc.

Instead, she saw the blanket and exclaimed, "Ooh, look at the new blanket! Ohh, it's so soft..." So, thinking quickly on my feet (for once), I went with it, and told her she used that blanket when she was a baby, just like the quilt, and that it was very nice to sleep with, etc. My sales pitch held her for naptime.

After her nap, I told her that the quilt was getting too worn out and it was time to put it away... I was flinching for her meltdown. Nope. No problems.

So, now I feel like a crazy woman for having worried about what to do this whole time. Then I remind myself that it has only been three days. The other shoe could drop at any minute. However, I never thought she could be in bed without her quilt for three minutes, let alone three whole days!

The quilting ladies will be so happy I've preserved that quilt. And I'm happy to have rescued an heirloom from its steady decline.

A patchwork dilemma

Jellybean has a blanket that she loves. She sleeps with it every night and at every nap. It's not just a blanket; it's a handmade quilt that L's grandma made when L was a baby. It's the perfect size, it's pretty and it's warm. But, it's falling apart and needs repair desperately.

We used to cover Jellybean with it in her crib when she was little, in a rotation with some other handmade blankets from our childhoods. Over time, it became clear that the quilt was her favorite of all her baby blankets. When we moved her to the big-girl bed about a year ago, she insisted that the quilt stay with her. So it has. And it goes on trips with us so she can have it wherever she sleeps (L and I call it her "Linus blanket," although it's not quite that extreme). When she wakes up in the morning, she comes to our room carrying her bear and the quilt. You can see it in the picture where she's sleeping in bed, and it's on her lap in the car seat.

The quilt was already worn, ahem, well loved, when we started using it in her crib. It had some slight tears and frayed edges. Now, several of the patchwork squares are threadbare down to the batting. Other parts of the structure have tears, and the stitchwork on the back panel is slowly coming undone.

My next-door neighbor is a fantastic seamstress and talented quilter. She has a quilting circle that meets regularly, and I've talked to her about finding someone to repair the quilt. She knows people and is willing to make that happen for me.

However, there are short-term and long-term problems with getting the quilt repaired, not the least of which: 1. Jellybean will be without the quilt for some time while it's being fixed. 2. The quilt will be different when it returns -- different fabrics and not as soft from all the wear.

So, do I wait until Jellybean outgrows the need for the quilt, possibly a couple more years, and risk damage to a family heirloom? Or, do we tear off the Band-Aid quickly now, so we can save the blanket but possibly crush a sensitive 3-year-old and her security?

Open wide

You may or may not know this about me: I have very healthy teeth and have never had a cavity. I needed a check-up, so I made my appointment and scheduled L to be with the kids.

Jellybean is 3 now, and that's the recommended age for a first dentist visit (according to our more lenient pediatrician; some say age 1, which I think is insane). So I thought this would be a good time to talk to her about the dentist and how easy it is, to get her primed for her first visit.

I explained that a dentist is a doctor for your teeth and told her how my appointment would go. I'd go in and open my mouth, and the dentist and the "nurse" would look in my mouth and see all my teeth. Then the dentist would tell me, "Your teeth look great! See you next time."

Except (and you may have figured this out by now) that's not how it went for me at the actual visit. Yes, I had a cavity. A tiny one, but it still counts. In all my efforts to care for my toddler and newborn in the past 18 months, I had neglected my dental hygiene a wee bit too much. And now I was going to pay for it -- literally, because we don't have the best dental insurance.

So I had to schedule my filling visit, which I did. Then I had to figure out how to handle this with Jellybean. I have a feeling that her first dental appointment will fill her with a great deal of anxiety -- a new place, people sticking fingers in her mouth. I don't want her to think that she'll have to come back the following week like I did and then, on top of it, have a numb weird mouth for a few hours like I did. So we did what we thought we had to do: We lied. When I was gone last week to get my filling, we told her I was running errands. I don't like covering up things like this, but it's for her own good -- and all the rest of us too.

Jellybean's appointment is in a few days. I told her about it today, thinking she would be excited because she had been so interested in the dental topic. For a second she smiled, then she got a worried look and whimpered, "Mama..."

All I can do is hope for the best. And maybe a little bribery. I don't ever resort to that, but I think a dentist visit is the ideal such occasion.