D.I.Y. Toddler Style

As of late, KC has been insisting more and more that she can  “Do it myself.” I now let her get into the car seat by herself when I pick her up at the end of the day. I am also discovering that things she might not want to do suddenly become more appealing when I offer up the fact that “You can do it yourself!”. That will be short-lived, I imagine.

“Hey, KC! That room’s pretty messy. Help mommy clean it, won’t you. Or, better yet, you can do it yourself!”

As for her other toddler habits, I’ve stopped trying to update you here on the blog with what cute phrases she’s picked up. It’s tempting, but it’s kind of pointless. We’ve moved from phrases to full sentences. Ok, that’s an exaggeration. Still a lot of phrases. By by a lot, I mean A LOT. New ones every day. Too many to remember and recount here.

Bottom line? She’s doing great. She’s getting more and more conversational. Ted and I are constantly amazed at what she picks up and what she remembers. Especially the memory. She actually reminded him to put gas in the car about a week ago. He’d mentioned to her very casually that they were going to the store and then they needed to get gas. Sure enough, as they headed out from the store, she said something like “Get gas, daddy.” Mind like a steel trap, this one.

So here we are. At the amazing point with a child where you feel proud of what they can do, but you need the patience of a saint to allow them to practice.

“Time to get dressed, sweet-pea. What’s that? You want to do it yourself? Oh, why not. We have about 2 hours before we have to be anywhere. Knock yourself out.”

Ok, that exact situation hasn’t really come up yet, but it will. She does express an extreme preference for pink pants sometimes. It’s all good. It’s all very, very good. A person really does need some “D.I.Y.” skills. I think it’s in the Life Manual under “skills that can land you a decent job, and possibly your own tv show” … or something like that.

Today on the The KC Show, Getting Into Your Own Seat for Dinner! Impress that snooty maitre d’!

“How old’s your brat?”

I had my first mammogram on Friday. Let me just say it is not as painful as some would lead you to believe. At least I didn’t think so. Let me also say that is was routine, so nothing scary. A “baseline” as my doc put it. I don’t expect to get any bad/questionable results. (Fingers crossed.) My doc just figured that even though I don’t fall into a category of high-risk and even though I am not actually 40 yet, it’s silly to put off such an important milestone in a woman’s life. (In other words, I am creeping much closer to the big 4-0 than I really care to acknowledge. Gulp.)

The tech who did my test was very sweet. My age and EXTREMELY chatty. Right off the bat she struck up a conversation about how these tests get such a bad rap, and how women should be able to handle this discomfort if we can handle childbirth. I had to agree with that. She shared that she was recently married and asked if I had any children. I said yes, one.

Right about this time she had finished setting me up for the first “photo” and she walked around to the other side of the glass wall and pushed a button to start the machine. It was loud, but she continued to talk to me anyway. She asked, “How old’s your brat?”

Oddly, I didn’t even bat and eye at the use of the word “brat”. She seemed like kind of a fun-loving chic so I just assumed she had sort of a silly sense of humor. I had to speak very loudly to answer, “Oh, she just turned two this September.” I felt kind of bad trying to answer as the machine was doing it’s work. It seemed like maybe I should be holding very still.

She came back over to me and started to “pose” me for photo #2. All the while we are still chatting away about marriage and when/if she planned to have kids. Again, she walks behind the glass and turns on the machine. Again, she asks me, “How old’s your brat?”

Hm. That machine was pretty loud. Maybe she didn’t catch my answer the first time. I start to say again that she just turned two, but I barely got two words out. She says, “No, hun. Hold your breath.“

Oooohhhhhhhh. Hold your breath! Yeah, that makes a lot more sense.

Funny though, even after I realized what she was actually saying to me from behind that wall, it STILL sounded exactly like, “How old’s your brat?” every time she said it. It’s not surprising she had to come back and take the first picture again. You know, since I was breathing AND yelling about my “brat”.

If it seems impossible that I would get that phrase from “hold your breath” I don’t know what to tell you. She had an American accent, but a really odd way of saying “hold” and “breath”. I tried to recreate it when I told the story out loud to Ted that evening. I could not mimic it. You’ll just have to trust me!

Addicted

KC is officially addicted to milk in the bottle. As you know, I’ve been feeling guilt lately about how much she needs her bottle and how much we JUST DON’T LIKE TO GIVE A DAMN. The situation has kind of reached it’s peak and even I have to admit it’s becoming an issue. Since the weekend, milk is all she wants. She is practically starting a new bottle before she even finishes the last. I’ve seen hard core cigarette addicts with more restraint. She came down with a cold last week and I can always tell something is coming on when her appetite takes a vacation. This is how food conversations went this weekend:

KC: “Milk. Milk! Milk! Milk!”
Me: In a cup?
KC: “No way, man! I need that bottle lady! Don’t toy with me!”
Me: How about a banana or some peanut butter and crackers?
KC: “Nooo! No. No. No. Miiilk!” (Falls to her knees in agony and “cries” some more.)
Me: Ugh. Fine. (Spine jumps out of my body to point and laugh, then jumps back in.)

We actually had a couple of nights early last week where we left every single bottle at Grandma’s house. We had to deny her the bottle at home. There was no choice. (I almost ran to the store for a new one. Almost.) She didn’t like it, but she survived for two nights. She even went to bed with a sippy cup of water instead of her usual bottle of water. I was a little amazed to be honest.

Then…Daddy caved on day 3 when she was feeling particularly sick and went back to Grandma’s house to get one. She sent him back home with EVERY SINGLE ONE SHE HAD. Even the newborn ones we don’t use anymore.

Touché, Grandma! You are a worthy opponent!

Due to the illness and the not eating very much, we’ve been just letting her have it since the weekend. She needs the fat and calories from something. But…the last day or two, I’ve been starting to feel a bit played. Surely the ever steady flow of high fat “cow juice” is having an effect on her appetite as well. It needs to be curbed and I am trying. I swear.

Now that she’s a lot better, I think it’s time to buckle down and try again. It’s time to just go for a few of days and refuse to give in to her whining. It’s time…for an intervention.

God, grant me the serenity…

But, it was the shoes that really did it.

Last week KC went to the doctor for her 2 year check up. She got two shots and didn’t make a peep. I was so proud. It was a very interesting visit. For the first time ever, she sat with me (or at least near me) in the waiting room. Typically she wanders all around and refuses to stay in one spot. She tries to touch all the babies, grab their bottles, or take their teething toys. (Hello germs! Nice to meet you.) I was quite impressed with her calm behavior. Also impressed when after it was done she actually requested not just any old lollipop, but a “yellow lollipop”. Who knew she preferred yellow?

She’s turning a corner for sure. I’m more and more aware these days that she’s really not a baby anymore. We are at the beginning of a difficult stage where it will be possible to ask her to follow directions, to keep still, to be a bit more quiet and to “please not run away from Mommy and Daddy” every time she’s allowed out of the stroller. However, it will require work and consistency on our parts to ensure she gets all these rules down and learns to behave appropriately.

I wrote a while back about how much she loves her bottle. Silly me. I thought it was an issue waaay back then that she still sucked on one all day long. I think I assumed she’d be done with it by now. She’s not. And it’s totally our fault. Ted and I still give her a bottle anytime she wants one. The truth? I don’t really care that my 2 year old still loves the bottle. I really don’t. However, I know that it’s something kids her age are supposed to be giving up. According to a lot of people anyway.

The day I picked her up to bring her to the doc, I asked my MIL to fill a bottle with milk for me. No way was I going to brave a long wait without that comfort item. I’ve made that mistake before. She was more than happy to oblige, but she mentioned casually that she has gotten rid of all KC’s bottles and was no longer giving in to her demands during the day. I was a little surprised. I suddenly felt very guilty that I was not doing this at home. I wondered how much trouble KC gave her about the bottle given that she always got one in the morning and about 2 or 3 every evening when we arrived home.

At the doctor’s office, for the first time, I felt very conspicuous with my “tall” baby sucking on her bottle. I wondered if any other parents noticed and if they had let their kids have the bottle for that long. Of course a lot of them probably had. I know for a fact that a lot of parents are just like me. Very loving, appropriately strict on some counts, but decidedly lax on the things that they deem “no big deal”. Things that just make life a bit easier with a willful toddler. However, I suppose it’s time to try and leave the bottles behind. I could pick a weekend and just go for it. Grit my teeth and deal with the crying. Maybe it will be that easy. I kind of doubt it though. It’s as much a habit for me as it is for her.

Plus, she’s just so little to me. Still so little. It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that she’s getting so big and so “capable” already. We are toying with potty training and starting to worry about pre-school. She’s no baby anymore. Babies drink bottles, but babies don’t speak in almost complete sentences. Babies don’t wear gigantic sneakers. Dear God. I had no idea what size her feet really were. The girl at Stride-Rite this weekend measured her at a size 7.5 shoe. Recommended she wear an 8. I’d been squeezing her into 6.5 often looking at those and thinking they seemed big. Talk about a “slap the forehead” moment. Obviously I needed something to clue me in to her “kid” status. Let me tell you, those shoes certainly did it. We might have the WNBA in our future.

****

Follow-up: I tried to do it this evening when she came home. I offered up milk in the frog cup with straw instead of the bottle. (Look at the cute froggy faaaace!!) I might as well have told her Hello Kitty died. It did NOT go over well. Not well at all. I might be in trouble. The funny part is that she’ll take water in a sippy cup no problem-o. But, BY GOD, that milk had better come with a synthetic nipple on top, bitches, or there will be hell to pay. HELL, I tell you.

Countdown to the Big T-W-O

KC officially turns two on Monday, Sept. 14, but we are celebrating with friends and family this coming Saturday. This week begins my list-writing and hand-wringing over whether we will have what we need and whether we will be able to fit everyone inside our house if the weather is bad. I’ve counted up almost 30 people including small children and babies. It’s pretty imperative that we can utilize the patio out back. The forecast says it will be warm and sunny but that could totally change by the weekend.

It’s really hard not to over-invite people to something like this. We could keep it to just family, but that would be too simple. Inevitably we start with the “We should also include so-and-so…and if we invite so-and-so then we should ask this person too…” Then there’s the impromptu verbal invites of neighbors at the last minute. Especially those with kids who we want to be friendlier with. I’m a little worried, but even if it’s crowded, it should still be fun.

Note to self: GET LOTS OF BEER & WINE. Open the garage to the guys who hate these types of parties, but come anyway because they are really good friends. And, for the love of God, don’t forget favors that the kids can actually play with. NOT candy. There’s enough crack sugar in cake as it is.

One thing that I’m very happy about is the fact that GG and Gramps (my mom and dad) will be there this time. They leave Minnesota today as a matter of fact. Initially, they planned to stay up there into October, but unusually cold weather (even for northern MN) and other issues made them decide to start home early. They missed her 1st Birthday party last year and I was starting to feel guilty about planning her 2nd before they got back again this year. The truth is, they are far too awesome to actually be upset about stuff like that. This laid-back quality is one of the many things I love about my parents. If they hadn’t been able to get back, KC and I would have traveled to the beach as soon as they came home and celebrated a 2nd time just like we did last year.

Back to the planning of this shin-dig. You’ll be happy to know that I won’t be attempting to make a cake again this year and neither will “F***ing Betty Crocker”. HE firmly stated that trying was not worth the trouble and potential for disaster. Maybe you are disappointed that there won’t be a story about how I screwed up another cake. Don’t worry, I’m bound to mess up something else. Or, perhaps this year it will be Ted who has a party-related mishap. We did just receive KC’s present, a wooden playhouse that has to be put together. From the look of it, there are a lot of parts and some notes in the fine print about how you should put some kind of weather-proof clear coat on it every couple of years. Awesome. Ted is very handy so it’s sure to be fine. Then again…the ordering of it went smoothly and the price was amazing, so you just KNOW there is bound to be something about this house that is going to SUCK. I hope I’m mistaken about that. We shall see…stay tuned.

“TWO” Much

She’s going to be two in one month exactly. TWO! Today she is 23 months old. Amazing. Time flies much too fast. Did I mention that in numerous other posts already? Yeah, I guess I did. However, it bears repeating often. So I can remind myself how important it is to enjoy the moments we are in RIGHT NOW.

We work too much in this house. Me with my full-time job, plus freelance in the evenings. And Ted. Ted has so much work to do they make his team come in 7 days at a stretch lately. (Lord, please help Ted’s boss realize he is not a cyborg. For real. He is human. I promise.) Thankfully this weekend is a break. He needs it. We both need it. KC needs both of us to just be there and to relax. Of course there will be chores and jobs around the house, but paychecks don’t care about those so we might slack a little bit. Working is a necessary thing in life. It seems that more and more these days BOTH parents working is a necessary thing. It’s not easy. My hat’s off to couples who can manage on one income. Especially if that income is less than six figures. Don’t even get me started on how much I admire the single parent. Gah.

Remember when you were little and you used to pretend to be grown-up? It seemed like adults had the life. Stay up as late as you want, buy whatever you want…as if. One of my best friends and I used to play “office”. It seemed like having your own phone and stapler was very sophisticated. Wow. How little we knew. Then again, maybe we knew a lot more than we know now. We knew how to PLAY. We knew how to enjoy the simple things in life and see fun in so many places. Sometimes I forget how to play. KC is helping me with that. With a small child you have to find time to play. You have to be able to slow down and enjoy stuff. You cannot get impatient when a two year old is doing something. Everything is still pretty new. Everything takes a little more time.

Dear GOD! Walk in the door already! It’s time to go inside. Mommy needs to sit down. That rock isn’t going anywhere, I promise.

Ahem. Where was I? Oh right. Being patient. She’s so beautiful these days. So funny too. Running wild in a diaper (or naked) and Hello Kitty rain boots. She’s fun to watch. And you do have to stop and watch, because before we know it she leaps into the next phase and grows 2 more inches. She’s especially beautiful when she’s still and she’s watching something. Her eyes get soft and her mouth is a perfect little rosebud. She’s not still that often so it’s cool when I can capture it. For proof that she’s not actually blurry in real life. She’s quite vivid and sharp actually. Picture perfect.

Life at Full Speed, Pt. II

Lately Ted and I have talked about the decision leave it at the three of us, or go ahead and make it four. I’ll tell you a secret. We’ve pretty much decided we like the number four. A lot like our decision to get hitched, this decision was made on the fly. Of course we’ve had our typical non-conversations of, “Should we?” Followed closely by, ” I don’t know…” and subject drops. When other people ask whether we want to have another child (and, HOLY CRAP, they ask a lot) we usually respond with, “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Depends on what day it is.”

I joked with my mom recently that I harbored a secret desire to respond like a total smart-ass when asked about our “family plan”. I came up with this line: “Oh, hell no. As a matter of fact I’m trying to figure out how to give back the one we have.” This is a total lie of course. I adore KC. I just thought it might be amusing to see the shock on the face of anyone who doesn’t know I have a weird sense of humor. Obviously, this would be meant to get a laugh. Too bad I’m not ballsy enough to try it on a stranger.

Those who know me should understand I would never be annoyed or angry when innocently asked about this subject. It’s a natural question. It’s just hard to answer for some of us. As I wrote in Pt. I, I am feeling a little old lately. It’s hitting me that I’m edging toward the “too late” zone. Or maybe “too late” is a crappy way to put it. After all, plenty of people have babies in their forties now and it’s awesome. I just can’t help thinking how old I’d be if I wait a couple more years. How old when they are finishing college, getting married, etc. It’s weird. You take what I tried to explain in the other post about how I still feel so young and couple it with the reality that I am quite close to my forties in reality and, well, let’s just say I start to feel some pressure to “get on with it already”.

It’s a hard decision, yet it is simple really. I think it’s one that is made by the heart and not the head. The head has a tendency to complicate matters. Once we went ahead and said, “Yeah, I think we do want to.” it felt good. I have a few moments of panic when I think about the logistics of it…less time to do things for me; more money for daycare; more, like, people in this small house…the kind of stuff that really shouldn’t stop us. We will adapt. I know this. It will all work the way it needs to and it will be just fine.

I read something before I got pregnant with KC, when we were still in the throws of uncertainty about having children at all. I posted it on my fridge and it’s still there now:

“Had Mary been filled with reason, there would have been no room for the child.”

I loved it immediately. I am not an extremely religious person. However, that simple line made all the sense in the world. It is the essence of that decision to change your live forever. Whether we are speaking of THE Mary, or anyone else. Woman and man, woman and woman, man and man, single woman and big syringe to the “hoo-ha area”…whatever. I do not judge.

How soon will it happen you might ask? I’m not sure. It happens when (and if) it happens. All I know is, we are happy. We are terrified. We are always uncertain. However, we are ready. (I think. No, we are. I think.) It will be what it will be. You will be among the first to know when it’s official. Just do me a favor, don’t keep asking me the status of the situation. If you do, I will have to invent another sarcastic reply just for you.

Life at Full Speed – Part I

How in the hell did I get here? It occurs to me often that time is flying at an amazing rate. Despite my 36 (almost 37) years, I feel young inside my head. Like I might as well have just graduated from college last year. However, it’s been about 14 years since I finished school and at some point, when I wasn’t really paying attention, I grew up. All the way up. I started a career, became a wife and then a mother. I’ve been at my current job for 13 years. THIRTEEN YEARS, PEOPLE. Does anyone else have a hard time believing they are where they are? I’ll be 40 in less than 4 years and I just don’t feel that it’s possible.

I do (sort of) feel my age when I am around young people. Young as in teenagers and college kids. I don’t get carded anymore. When addressed in restaurants or stores I am a “Ma’am” and no longer a “Miss”. I am somebody’s Mom now. Ted and I often look at people and try to guess, “Do you think they are the same age as we are?” Sometimes, it’s obvious and sometimes we are surprised to find out they are the same age we are. And we were just thinking they looked old. It is a weird thing. Recognizing that other people probably see us that way too. They see us for exactly who we are: grown-ups.

When the hell did we become the dreaded “adults”? And who the hell let us have a kid anyway? Surely you must need permission for that sort of thing. No? How about a certification test…a license…a mentor program? No? Anyone can do it? Anytime? As many times as they want? Huh, right.

A few months back I was in a Hallmark store near my house. I went up to the register in time to catch a rather loud conversation between two young girls (20’s) and one older woman (I’ll guess 60ish). All three were employees behind the register. One of the young girls was talking about her children and expressing how she wouldn’t want to be an “older” mom. She pretty clearly implied that 30-something qualified as older and the tone was negative enough that it made me tense up. The 60ish woman looked a tad uncomfortable as well as I approached the register. I held my tongue, paid and left quietly. Part of me wanted to make some snide comment about how old I was and that I too was a mom. A recently established one and totally fine with it. I really wanted to make her feel a little bad. I’m not a bitch so I left it alone, but her comments stung. A lot. I walked out of there thinking how ignorant she was to say these things so loudly, not knowing who was in the store listening.

I guess to some people starting your married life and your family around age 30 is late. Not me. During my 20s I was practically living on a different planet compared to this chic. I feel like I suspended my youth for quite a while by simply focusing on school and just being “me” while I was her age. It wasn’t so much a choice as a result of my personal situation though. I guess I shouldn’t judge her. Maybe her circumstances brought true love early. Maybe beginning a family so young was an accident that just became her next phase. Maybe she has fielded lots of criticism for starting a family so young and she feels defensive about that whereas I feel defensive about being called an “older” mom. Maybe her tone wasn’t meant to be negative and I just heard a conversation out of context. Who knows.

Lately I look in the mirror and I see grey hairs fighting to take over (Praise be to Loreal Preference!). I see lines beginning to form. I notice subtle changes in my physical appearance that I don’t recall seeing before KC was born. (Stupid spider veins!) Having a child has changed me in so many ways both physical and mental. Looking at my daughter really drives home the fact that I am a kid no longer. Marriage started it, but having my daughter has forced me to accept it. It’s a transitional phase that I am in now. Who knows how long it will last. One thing is for sure, it won’t be the last transitional phase of my life.

The pressure is on now. Will we have another child? We’ve barely gotten over the shock of having one. I get “the speech” at my gyno visits about how I’d better think about doing it soon. Apparently the older a woman gets (there’s that “older woman” crap again), the more complications can arise. I love my doc, I really do. However, I’ve read all the books. She really doesn’t have to tell me the clock is ticking. I can hear it. Does it matter that I feel strong? That I feel young even if I am not the youngest mom at the playground? That’s got to count for something. Right?

Like so many others before her, yet totally unique.

Sometimes it’s tough to come up with a really great post. I like to be either sentimental and touching, or really weird funny. Life is pretty good right now. It’s somewhat stressful too. Mostly in good ways. There are things I want to write about, but can’t just yet. No, I am not pregnant. I just have a few things in flux. Things I want to keep close to the chest for a while. Good things.

What I’d like to say today is that my daughter is the bomb, ya’ll. She’s funny and smart and sometimes a tad naughty, but mostly she’s just as she should be. KC is going to be 2 very soon. This is so unbelievable to me, but I will save all my thoughts about that until we are closer to the day. You can be sure I will post about the party and whether I’ll be baking a cake myself again this year and basically blathering on about how “my baby is growing up”! Sniff, sniff.

In the meantime, here are some things she is doing lately that just make me grin, giggle and sigh with pride:

• She likes to sit with me on the couch while she drinks milk and watches cartoons. Sometimes she pats the couch and says, “Sit here.”
• When she wants us to follow her somewhere, she will look back and say, “Come on.” as she motions to us with her tiny hand.
• Since our vacation she’s become very aware of planes. We get a lot overhead since we live near an airport. She loves to look for them behind the big, old oak trees that cover the sky in our yard. She yells out, “Airplane! There it is!” then if it goes behind some branches she’ll confirm, “Airplane. Gone.”
• She dances when she hears music. I need to capture the “monster stomp” or the “Frankenstein” as Ted calls it. She kind of shifts from one foot to the other, back and forth, while bending her knees a little. Hard to explain, but very cute.
• When she wants to go outside (which is constantly) she says, “Shoes on.” Then she usually goes to find a pair of hers. Lately, however, she’s taken to also grabbing a pair of mine and bringing them over to set down right by my feet. Sometimes she even tries to put them on me. The other day she brough me one pair, but it was a pair I didn’t want to wear. I tested her a little by saying, “Not those. Get the ones under the table. Out there.” I pointed out toward the living room. I’ll be damned if she didn’t go retrieve them right away. Now we just have to start trying this with beer. Just kidding. Kind of.

All these things I speak of here on this blog and the numerous other things she does every day are not really that amazing I suppose. Plenty of babies came before her and dazzled their parents in exactly the same ways. It’s been going on since humans first appeared I’m sure. However, that doesn’t matter. When it’s your child it’s as if no other human has ever been so cute, so smart, so funny. It’s really cool.

As long as their are proud parents to yammer on about their kids, there will be unsuspecting strangers/friends/blog readers who get to hear it all over again. And again. Thanks for reading/listening!

Quick! Somebody catch that monkey.

KC has burst full throttle into a new stage of development. It seemed to coincide with our vacation, but in reality, I’m sure it crept up slowly like all other stages and we just didn’t notice it until we were hundreds of miles from home. She’s almost 2 and it shows. She gets a little crazy sometimes. Not necessarily BAD crazy, just crazy. She likes to explore everything. People are always saying, “That’s such a good sign! Curiosity is great!” I agree. I do. However, it’s kind of hard to deal with sometimes.

Case in point. I took her to my office on Friday for a visit. She had not been there since she was about 3 months old. She was totally adorable and entertaining. Not shy at all. She bolted around the office like a little monkey on speed. I had to run around after her and make sure she didn’t touch or take everything she liked. My officemates are great people. Everyone seemed to enjoy seeing her and she even scored a cute stuffed animal from one of my friends.

I had planned to take her to lunch along with two of my co-workers, but I had to beg off. She was clearly full of energy and I just knew sitting in a restaurant wasn’t going to work for her. Ted and I discovered this on vacation more than once. I have just accepted it now. For a little while we will avoid eating in restaurants with her. Drive thru McDonald’s taken somewhere that she can run. That’s a better plan! So that’s what I did.

My friends were understanding. I think I really looked the part of the worn out Mom when I arrived. It was a hot day and carrying her across hot parking lots, up stairs and basically just trying to keep her from jumping off furniture and running randomly down hallways had taken it’s toll. We not only visited my office, but had just come from an appointment at Children’s ENT department prior to that.* It was time for lunch and a nap. For both of us.

I joked with one co-worker that taking her places sometimes makes me feel like I am Jack Hannah and I am visiting the Tonight Show with the worlds’s craziest monkey. It’s not the first time I’ve made the joke that I feel more like her “handler” than her mom. She’s a handful, our little girl. She’s awesome and she’s funny and she’s so smart. I love it. It’s just tough following that little monkey around in places unfamiliar. I wouldn’t want her to hurt herself. Or poop in someone’s shoe.

Not the most flattering photo of either of us, but you get the point.

*KC had a bunch of ear infections during about a 6 month period. It’s customary to get that checked by an ENT specialist. They saw nothing of concern…ears looked great, hearing is fine. No worries unless the infections kick back up again. Then we may take another visit. I had to have tubes in my ears as a kid. Remains to be seen if this will also happen with her.