Being a mom is hard. Having kids is hard. I'm not actually sure it's any harder then not having kids. Just different. Life is hard. Sometimes though, the perks of being a mom can rock. Sometimes you get to ride elephants to school.
Demon: Mama, this our El-fant
Me: Ol-fant?
Demon: no Mama, El-fant.
Me: Oh, Elephant?
Demon: Yes Mama
Me: We're riding an Elephant?!
Demon: Yes Mama
Me: Awesome!
Demon: And we're cowboys
Me: Cowboys?
Demon: Yes
Me: Cowboys riding an elephant? Cool
Demon: And this [stuffed] squirrel, this my baby.
Me: a baby cowboy?
Demon: Yes Mama
Me: Awesome! It's not every baby cowboy who gets to ride an elephant to school
Demon: Yes! We cowboys riding an elephant to school! Elephants are fast
Me: Elephants sure are fast, they're big
Demon: and some are slow mama.
Me: Some elephants are slow?
Demon: No mama, SOME are slow.
Me: Oh, ok, only some are slow, not all.
Demon: Yes mama. Elephants stomp. Boom boom boom
Me: Yes they do stomp, they're BIG.
Demon: And these all elephants.
Me: We're all elephants?
Demon: No mama, all these around us. All the cars are other elephants
Me: Oh wow, that's a lot of elephants.
Demon: Yeeaaahhhhh
Me: We should feed our elephant when we get to school to thank him for taking us
Demon: *eyes sparkling* That's a good idea mama! We'll feed our elephant! They have long trunks they can use to eat.
Me: That's right, they use their trunks just like hands. We should feed them peanuts, elephants love peanuts.
Demon: I've got some peanuts right here, in my pocket. I'm going to feed them to the elephant
Me: Good idea! But not until we get there.
Demon: and there's a truck.
Me: There's a truck on out elephant?
Demon: NO mama, over there. Around us.
Me: Ohhhhh. So those other trucks, they're trucks.
Demon: Yes mama. and we're riding our elephant to school, and we're gonna feed it peanuts, and we have to hold our hands just like this. *flat* and the elephant will *snort* them right up with is trunk! Not every cowboy gets to ride an elephant to school.
That's right baby <3 not every cowboy gets to ride an elephant to school
Monday, September 24, 2012
Pre-Walk Post
This was a post I put up on Facebook the day before Strut Your Mutt 2012. Sept 21st.
So Em, listen here, I'm doing this walk. It's to raise money to help Street Dogs in StL. I'm walking in honor of you. I've spent the last month raising money, sharing your picture, your story, and your love, with anyone who would listen. I've raised nearly $2000 so far. It all goes directly to the rescue Em.
So Em, listen here, I'm doing this walk. It's to raise money to help Street Dogs in StL. I'm walking in honor of you. I've spent the last month raising money, sharing your picture, your story, and your love, with anyone who would listen. I've raised nearly $2000 so far. It all goes directly to the rescue Em.
I made this for the Stray Buffett. For those of you not familiar with Stray Rescue of St. Louis this is a little of what they do. Here is the text
"From establishing community outreach programs to working with the city's Circuit Attorney's Office to bring justice to animal abusers, Stray Rescue strives to make a difference in as many ways as possible. However, more than anything else the animals always come first. Stray Rescue works with street dogs, abandoned dogs, abused dogs, dogs left for dead, and dogs with no where else to go. Randy Grimm, founder of Stray Rescue of St Louis, and the team at Stray Rescue work hard to save dogs who have been treated in unimaginable ways. Not only do they feed them, they rescue them. They befriend these lost and forgotten souls. They gains their trust, and they brings them back. They give them food, love, medical attention, and training. Stray Rescue turns these lost, scared, abused, starved, souls into wonderful, loving pets. This is what we’re raising money for. We’re raising money, through Strut Your Mutt, for the team at Stray Rescue of St Louis to save dogs. We’re raising money for Randy and his team to help dogs in St Louis find their Emily’s. Their own forever home with a person who will always love them and take care of them."
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I made this for the Stray Buffett. For those of you not familiar with Stray Rescue of St. Louis this is a little of what they do. Here is the text
"From establishing community outreach programs to working with the city's Circuit Attorney's Office to bring justice to animal abusers, Stray Rescue strives to make a difference in as many ways as possible. However, more than anything else the animals always come first. Stray Rescue works with street dogs, abandoned dogs, abused dogs, dogs left for dead, and dogs with no where else to go. Randy Grimm, founder of Stray Rescue of St Louis, and the team at Stray Rescue work hard to save dogs who have been treated in unimaginable ways. Not only do they feed them, they rescue them. They befriend these lost and forgotten souls. They gains their trust, and they brings them back. They give them food, love, medical attention, and training. Stray Rescue turns these lost, scared, abused, starved, souls into wonderful, loving pets. This is what we’re raising money for. We’re raising money, through Strut Your Mutt, for the team at Stray Rescue of St Louis to save dogs. We’re raising money for Randy and his team to help dogs in St Louis find their Emily’s. Their own forever home with a person who will always love them and take care of them."
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Sunday, September 23, 2012
Airplane Difficulties, Ashes, and Hope 1 - A vacation post
So, this is the second post in my vacation series. There was good too, honest there was, and we'll get to that. There was also sadness, lots of sadness. in my last vacation post I talked about how our trip was scheduled so as to meet up with my entire family (minus 1 due to work) and spread my grandmother's ashes. She loves the island, she used to spend every summer there. It was one of her favorite places. It's incredibly peaceful, beautiful, and grounding. Have you seen the pictures?
So, there were lots of people with jobs, and lives, and kids, who all had to be coordinated for this single event. We managed to end up with a window of 1 evening. One of my cousins was supposed to fly in early that afternoon, and another had to leave the following morning. So, this was it. My cousin coming in was going to take a Ferry, but in hopes of everyone getting to attend, and not wandering around all night, it was decided she would take one of the small planes.
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| and I mean, small plane |
These planes are not a hit. It turns out, the last cousin flying in was Emily's younger sister. My uncle went to pick her up from the tiny (seriously, this thing is 1 dirt runway, and a hanger) airport. My aunt waited for them to show up. .....and she waited.... and waited.... and she got nervous, and she walked up to the top of the hill to meet them. Cell phones don't work so well, or at all, out here.
After she had been gone awhile, there was a phone call to the house. My cousins plane had experienced mechanical difficulties, and had been sent back to the mainland.
I think I wrote about how I found out Em died. For her sisters and her parents though it was different. It was an afternoon of unkept appointments, and unanswered phone calls. You don't expect the worst, you just don't, not until it happens. Then I'm not sure you expect anything else ever again.
I left the house to find my aunt. She saw me coming and asked what was wrong. She was crying, and demanding to know, and she knew, she knew something was wrong. It had been too long. So I told her the plane had experienced mechanical difficulties, and had to go back to the mainland. She freaked, she was terrified. Faced with this situation I did the best thing I could come up with at the time. I lied. I told a huge, horrible, bold faced lie, and I dared the fates to prove me a lier. I told my aunt her daughters plane was safe on the mainland. It had landed. She was SAFE with her feet on the ground, and her cell phone would be turned back on soon so she'd be able to call us. (Sorry Nan. I couldn't let you worry. Don't hate me.) I knew that either it WOULD be true shortly, or that, god help us, if it wasn't true I wasn't going to be the concern.
And so we walked back to the house, and she ranted, and panicked, and I tried to comfort her, and we both cried. At one point she told me how upset she gets when she can't get ahold of her daughters on the phone. I told her i understood, and she told me I didn't. She told me I didn't understand, and that she hoped I never did. I told her she was right. Every night I put my children to sleep and I pray I never understand.
As we walked back to the house, my other aunt and sister came walking up towards us with my daughter. There were two deer on our left. They kept walking away from my sister's group, and walking towards my aunt and me. They came very close, and, in fact, crossed the road directly behind us. My sister said they reached their noses out and sniffed us. If we'd turned around we could have touched them.
They were coming to tell us my cousin had called. She was on the ground. Her phone was on, and she was waiting for her mother to call her. She was fine. My aunt and sister came to tell us this. The deer, the deer just came. I told my aunt they were Em. That was Em's spirit showing us it was going to be ok. She had come to touch us so we would know that her sister was ok. It didn't feel right. I decided later that, if the deer were any spirit, they were probably my grandmother's. The bald eagle that circled us as we spread the ashes, as we all gathered as a family. The eagle that watched us from the sky, that was Em. They put my cousins on another plane. This time she landed without incident, and made it to the house.
There is more to tell of this day. I'm feeling emotionally drained at the moment though, so I will end this chapter here, and try and write the conclusion tomorrow.
They were coming to tell us my cousin had called. She was on the ground. Her phone was on, and she was waiting for her mother to call her. She was fine. My aunt and sister came to tell us this. The deer, the deer just came. I told my aunt they were Em. That was Em's spirit showing us it was going to be ok. She had come to touch us so we would know that her sister was ok. It didn't feel right. I decided later that, if the deer were any spirit, they were probably my grandmother's. The bald eagle that circled us as we spread the ashes, as we all gathered as a family. The eagle that watched us from the sky, that was Em. They put my cousins on another plane. This time she landed without incident, and made it to the house.
There is more to tell of this day. I'm feeling emotionally drained at the moment though, so I will end this chapter here, and try and write the conclusion tomorrow.
Argh
I am unhappy, and melancholy, and sick, and upset, and..... so many other things. I want to yell and scream and complain, but I think I'll go to sleep instead. I end some day feeling so inadequate it hurts. From time to time I think I've come to a place in my life where I like myself, and my life. Then Something, or a series of somethings happens that leaves me feel lonely and lost, empty, and unworthy.... of everything.
Someone remind me to write about the walk some day. It went well.
"You belong among the wildflowers.... you belong somewhere you feel free...."
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Cold Coffee and Warm Beer
February, 8, 2011
I should have named the blog “Cold Coffee and Warm Beer.” My husband is always telling me that he hasn’t gotten to drink his beer cold, or his coffee warm since we had kids. That’s about four years now. I think probably that is the best descriptive explanation of having children. It’s putting all of your previous joys and wants behind the needs of someone else. Someone tiny, and small, and helpless, and totally worth it, but still, coming in second in your own life.
A lot of people have a hard time with the adjustment. I think that’s the primary reason parenthood is so hard. (That and sleep deprivation) We spend years trying to figure out how to take care of ourselves, how to get our own needs met, and then give it all up for someone else. We spend hours, and days, and years trying to figure out how to take care of this new person. Trying to figure out what they need, why they’re unhappy, how to make then happy, and still have them grow up to be self sufficient and independent. We spend hours, and days, and months learning to translate screams and cries, learning to function on little to no sleep, and little to no food. There are all sorts of things we would love to do... if we only had time. We don’t have time, of course, because we’re putting someone else’s needs in front of our own. This is the hallmark of parenting though. It is what makes us good parents. It is how it is supposed to be, and why we have such a hard time figuring out how to put ourselves, or our marriage first later I think. It is why we occasionally fall to pieces, and why so many marriages with kids don’t make it. It is why parenthood can bring more joy and satisfaction, but less happiness. It is why it has taken me two hours to type one page.
We are parents. We don’t ever get to drink the beer cold or the coffee warm.
This also happens to be the reason I bought a coffee maker that uses those little pods and makes just one cup of coffee at the push of a button, as well as an electric tea kettle. For some strange reason all my recent stove top tea kettles have been destroyed, (melted) and I can’t seem the find the time to measure, avoid spilling, or clean up coffee grounds, not to mention wait for an entire pot of coffee to brew.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Vacation and Unstable Kayaks
I'm a fan on Momastry. She's pretty darn amazing. She wrote a post yesterday about Jack. In the spur of the moment, I wrote his name on my hand, and Helli's and took pictures for her wall. In mama solidarity. This was an easy bit of hope, or peace, of togetherness I could offer. I didn't give it much thought really. I was saddened, and wanted to reach out, so I did. The surprise came the rest of the day. Everyone I encountered asked what was written on my hand, and I found myself trying to explain, "well, you see, there's this woman, on the internet..." All day long, every time I caught sight of my hand, I thought of Jack, and Anna, and dark water. (I'm sorry Anna) I was still thinking of it this morning as I walked the dogs, (I used permanent marker you see) and I remembered an incident on my vacation. I've been meaning to write a serious of vacation posts. I took lots of pictures to go with them. This isn't the post I had in mind particularly, but it's important anyway.
Every time I remember this my throat gets tight, my chest gets tight, my heart beats fast, and I have to remind myself to breathe deeply, and slowly. It's fear. The fear that this could have ended differently. It didn't. I'm telling you that form the beginning. Everyone is ok. There for the grace of god and all.
My dad has this big house, on this rather small island off the northern cost of Washington state. It sits on lots of property. One property line goes along the beach, another along the line of the national park up there. It's gorgeous, it's a great break from the city. My husband, our kids, and I go up every year as I vacation. This year the vacation was planned around the scattering of my grandmother's ashes. There was one or two days where my whole family was there (minus one cousin who was traveling for work.)
My stepmom likes to kayak. They own sea kayaks. My step mom and my aunt go out regularly. They tend to have a rotating group of people that go with them, but they're the ones who usually go out every time. This time though, on this day, just "the boys" went out. My two cousins, my middle brother, and one of my cousin's girlfriends took the kayaks out. Dave, and Colin took single kayaks and Jon and Meredith took a double kayak. They had all been out in the kayaks before. They are all adults, and they all had experience. They paddled out to see the harbor seals that like to sun themselves on a rock a mile (or two miles?) from the shore line. They stopped, and my brother, Colin, went to turn his kayak. Instead of turning, it rolled over.
He had forgotten to put the piece down that keeps it stable. An easy mistake upon going out on a lark. Now, the "proper" way to do this is to roll your kayak back over with you still in it. There is a way to shift your weight, and roll your kayak back over. There are classes on it. When faced with a sudden frigid dunking though, I'm not sure how many people have the presence of mind to do that. My brother found himself, suddenly cold, wet, and belted in upside down. He did what most people with any presence of mind would do. He unhooked his belt and got to the surface.
After surfacing he was faced with the problem of getting back in the kayak. He could roll the kayak over, but every time he tried to get back into the seat, it just rolled over upside down again. Running out of energy he finally pull himself partially on top of the bottom of the kayak (which was, of course, now the part on top.) They were in what is the Salish Sea, near to The Strait of Juan de Fuca. This is hypothermia country my friend. The summer water temperature drops into the low 40s. The winter temperatures dip even lower. My cousins Jon said that he would get Colin, and told David to go get help. My cousin David paddled as if the hounds of hell were chasing him. He beached his kayak, then sprinted the half mile (ish) to the house to tell my stepmother that her oldest son was in the water. Her, and everyone else in the house, with the exception of one person left behind to watch my grandfather and Demon, grabbed towels, jumped in the SUV and drove down to the beach.
In the mean time, my cousin Jon made sure Colin was on his kayak. Meredith held the kayak's rope, and Jon paddled all three of them all the way back to shore. As my step mom arrived, they were beaching the kayaks. Colin was cold, and freaked out, but ok. Blessedly ok.
The reason this makes my throat get tight and my eyes water is that it could have ended so differently. If my brother had panicked and not unhooked his belt, or tried to swim to shore, or tried to roll his kayak back over...
If David had not been so fast, if Jon and Meredith had not stayed calm and towed him in...
If they had not been so self processed, possibly if the fates had been kinder to my family the year before and they had not taken the threat seriously, things could have ended much differently. They didn't, and i thank god. My whole family thanks god.
This was either the morning, or the morning before, we were supposed to spread my grandmother's ashes.
Every time I remember this my throat gets tight, my chest gets tight, my heart beats fast, and I have to remind myself to breathe deeply, and slowly. It's fear. The fear that this could have ended differently. It didn't. I'm telling you that form the beginning. Everyone is ok. There for the grace of god and all.
My dad has this big house, on this rather small island off the northern cost of Washington state. It sits on lots of property. One property line goes along the beach, another along the line of the national park up there. It's gorgeous, it's a great break from the city. My husband, our kids, and I go up every year as I vacation. This year the vacation was planned around the scattering of my grandmother's ashes. There was one or two days where my whole family was there (minus one cousin who was traveling for work.)
My stepmom likes to kayak. They own sea kayaks. My step mom and my aunt go out regularly. They tend to have a rotating group of people that go with them, but they're the ones who usually go out every time. This time though, on this day, just "the boys" went out. My two cousins, my middle brother, and one of my cousin's girlfriends took the kayaks out. Dave, and Colin took single kayaks and Jon and Meredith took a double kayak. They had all been out in the kayaks before. They are all adults, and they all had experience. They paddled out to see the harbor seals that like to sun themselves on a rock a mile (or two miles?) from the shore line. They stopped, and my brother, Colin, went to turn his kayak. Instead of turning, it rolled over.
He had forgotten to put the piece down that keeps it stable. An easy mistake upon going out on a lark. Now, the "proper" way to do this is to roll your kayak back over with you still in it. There is a way to shift your weight, and roll your kayak back over. There are classes on it. When faced with a sudden frigid dunking though, I'm not sure how many people have the presence of mind to do that. My brother found himself, suddenly cold, wet, and belted in upside down. He did what most people with any presence of mind would do. He unhooked his belt and got to the surface.
After surfacing he was faced with the problem of getting back in the kayak. He could roll the kayak over, but every time he tried to get back into the seat, it just rolled over upside down again. Running out of energy he finally pull himself partially on top of the bottom of the kayak (which was, of course, now the part on top.) They were in what is the Salish Sea, near to The Strait of Juan de Fuca. This is hypothermia country my friend. The summer water temperature drops into the low 40s. The winter temperatures dip even lower. My cousins Jon said that he would get Colin, and told David to go get help. My cousin David paddled as if the hounds of hell were chasing him. He beached his kayak, then sprinted the half mile (ish) to the house to tell my stepmother that her oldest son was in the water. Her, and everyone else in the house, with the exception of one person left behind to watch my grandfather and Demon, grabbed towels, jumped in the SUV and drove down to the beach.
In the mean time, my cousin Jon made sure Colin was on his kayak. Meredith held the kayak's rope, and Jon paddled all three of them all the way back to shore. As my step mom arrived, they were beaching the kayaks. Colin was cold, and freaked out, but ok. Blessedly ok.
The reason this makes my throat get tight and my eyes water is that it could have ended so differently. If my brother had panicked and not unhooked his belt, or tried to swim to shore, or tried to roll his kayak back over...
If David had not been so fast, if Jon and Meredith had not stayed calm and towed him in...
If they had not been so self processed, possibly if the fates had been kinder to my family the year before and they had not taken the threat seriously, things could have ended much differently. They didn't, and i thank god. My whole family thanks god.
This was either the morning, or the morning before, we were supposed to spread my grandmother's ashes.
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| "The Boys" from left to right: Dave, Jon, Colin. You can see the water behind them. |
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| Meredith and Jon |
No!
Aug 8, 2011
I was cleaning out the diaper genie and Demon ran by with a stinky diaper. So I told him we had to change it.
He says, "no."
I take the trash bag in his room and lay the towel on his bed (that's how we do his diapers) and tell him he needs to come lie on Mr Boat. (The towel has a boat on it)
He says, "no."
10 minutes into this argument Bug starts wailing. I tell him he has to get in his room and lie down so we can change his diaper because I have to feed Bug.
He says, "no."
I tell him if he makes me get up and come PUT him in his room he's staying in there by himself while I feed Bug.
He says, "no,"
I tell him he has until the count of 3 before I get up and then he's sitting in his room by himself.
He says, "no."
"1"
"No"
"2"
"No"
"3"
"No"
So I get up, pick his stinky butt up and put him in his room and go get Bug. He cries, "Mama! Mama."
I said, "are you ready to have your diaper changed?"
He says, "no"
So i feed Bug, and I wrestle Bug and I put Bug down for a nap. I have to walk by his room to do this. I ask if he's ready to have his diaper changed.
He says, "no. Lie down. Sleeping."
So the stubborn booger has decided he's going to BED at 4pm instead of letting me change his diaper that's full of poop.
He says, "no."
I take the trash bag in his room and lay the towel on his bed (that's how we do his diapers) and tell him he needs to come lie on Mr Boat. (The towel has a boat on it)
He says, "no."
10 minutes into this argument Bug starts wailing. I tell him he has to get in his room and lie down so we can change his diaper because I have to feed Bug.
He says, "no."
I tell him if he makes me get up and come PUT him in his room he's staying in there by himself while I feed Bug.
He says, "no,"
I tell him he has until the count of 3 before I get up and then he's sitting in his room by himself.
He says, "no."
"1"
"No"
"2"
"No"
"3"
"No"
So I get up, pick his stinky butt up and put him in his room and go get Bug. He cries, "Mama! Mama."
I said, "are you ready to have your diaper changed?"
He says, "no"
So i feed Bug, and I wrestle Bug and I put Bug down for a nap. I have to walk by his room to do this. I ask if he's ready to have his diaper changed.
He says, "no. Lie down. Sleeping."
So the stubborn booger has decided he's going to BED at 4pm instead of letting me change his diaper that's full of poop.
He stayed in his room, from all appearances, happily playing, for an hour and a half until my husband got home from work. Then he let my husband change him.
Sometimes I feel like I live in a deranged Dr. Seuss book.
“You cannot change my poop today
You cannot clean my butt, no way!
I will not let you in a house
I will not let you for a mouse
I do not like clean diapers mom
I do not want to put one on.”
Potty Training: The Story and The Secret
February 28, 2012
Anyone with a child who can walk has thought about potty training. Chances are you have looked into one of the methods, the books, asked friends for advice, searched the internet, asked your parents, what have you. At this point you know there are about three million books about potty training. Some for the parents, "Potty Training Boys the Easy Way: Helping Your Son Learn Quickly--Even If He's a Late Starter," and some for kids, "Where's the Poop?" a catchy little flip book for little people. This week I finally discovered the secret. Let me first start by sharing our potty training story, and why it was only 1 month before Demon's 3rd birthday that we finally came across this secret.
At two and a half my son woke up dry from naps and bedtime. He could talk about the potty, seemed to understand the concept, and was at a good age to give it a shot. We got Froggy Potty, pull-ups, kids friendly wipes, soap, a step stool, and a lot of advice. The problem was, he showed no interest. Ok, no problem. We put Froggy in the bathroom and let him sit on it whenever either of us went to the bathroom. Around this same time Demon decided he didn't want anyone to change his diaper. He wanted to wear one, he just never wanted it changed. Every diaper change involved a kicking, screaming, hitting, biting, wrestling match. I was seven months pregnant, and dreaded every diaper change. The diaper changes got worse and worse, and, if there was poop? Forget it. It was easily a two person job. One person to hold the top half of him down, and the other to try and retrain the bottom half while cleaning poop, while also minimizing the poop that ended up everywhere else (including on both parents.) There's little worse then having to physically battle someone to get them to allow you to do something you really don't want to do. Amazingly enough, even as a mommy, wiping someone else's ass wasn't on the top of my list of things I actually wanted to do.
I was complaining to one of my friends one day who had older children. She said, "Oh, my son did that too." Hallelujah! At least it was normal behavior, and not some weird manifestation of early diaper changing trauma (this is a joke, but if you've ever been a parent you know, you question every possible thing your kid does looking to see if maybe there is something wrong, and if maybe it's your fault.) She told me that what she ended up doing was buying a thing of super cheap diapers, and telling her son if he sat in poop all day he'd get ouchies on his butt. She said he figured it out pretty quickly. I mean, who wouldn't? (haha) Brilliant!
So, the next time my kid took a big old crap and acted like I was trying to forcibly remove his soul when I told him it needed to be changed I let him run around in it. After an hour I got sick of smelling him, though he, apparently, wasn't sick of sitting in it. So I wrestled him into the bedroom and stripped the diaper off. Sure enough, he had a big old diaper rash on his butt. "See, this is what happens when you sit around in poop. If you just let mommy clean you up, you wouldn't have an ouchie." Unfortunately, the diaper rash and didn't improve his outlook on diaper changing.
The next day he pooped again (it tends to be a daily occurrence, which is why the physical assault during it was wearing thin.) He did not want me to change his diaper. If possible, he was even more vehement then the night before. By the time I wrestled him into the bedroom, and got his diaper off he had a big, giant, open sore on his diaper rash. This, remarkably enough, didn't make wiping all the crap off his butt any easier. This seems to be around when he decided he NEVER wanted his diaper changed, and any attempt turned into a lion wrestling match. He didn't want his diaper changed, EVER, he screamed when I put him in the bath, looked at the wipes container, or even suggested diaper cream. After a few days things had gotten so bad I took him into the doctor. Sure enough, he had a staph infection on his butt. (with a 1in by 1in open sore) We got antibiotics, diaper cream, and a recommendation to add some baking soda to his bath water to help take the sting out.
After the infection cleared up, he was still a monster about diaper changes. I mean, I completely understand when it hurts, but once it stopped hurting, he got even worse. He turned into a, well, Demon. Screaming, howling, kicking, biting, screaming, running, writhing, did I mention the screaming? He was suddenly like an unhappy cat, hard to catch and all sharp points. One afternoon he was so bad I was sure he'd broken my nose and given me a black eye. (He had given me a black eye before, and broken my toe, so it wasn't out of the question honestly) I had had enough. I told him he wasn't getting any more diapers and left the room.
He was not happy about this sudden change, and it probably wasn't the best way to start potty training, but I was at a loss for anything else to do. Reduced to tears and hopelessness with a small baby in the house, I set Froggy in front of the TV, and told him he wasn't getting any more diapers, or pants for awhile. So he ran around naked from the waist down.
Amazingly, it worked. He peed in the potty. Every. Single. Time. There wasn't one accident on the floor. If I suggested he pee in the potty he threw a fit, but if i just ignored him he went all on his own. He even did it standing up, and never missed. Well, that was easy.
My husband wasn't really on board with this naked child approach I'd decided to take. He wassure that our son should not be *gasp* outside without pants on. So, every time Demon went outside Husband made him put on pants. (I mean, maybe he had a point. I suppose naked toddler is a little startling for the neighbors in a neighborhood where you can see everything in everyone's backyard for the entire block) Here we hit a snag. When we put underwear and pants on him he peed in them, every time. Well, ok, but he still went on the potty when inside, as long as he didn't have pants on, and it was summer. This could still potentially work...
All parents learn quickly that peeing and pooping in the potty are two very different things. Pee is fine, poop, not so much so. Usually he'd wait for me to put a diaper on him at nap time. I told him if he pooped in the potty he could wipe, but if he pooped in his diaper he had to let me wipe him up. Which wasn't so bad. He was getting better about letting me clean it up.
Then, one nice summer day, about two days in, he came inside and told me he pooped outside and the dogs ate it. I double checked this statement to make sure we weren't having a communication error. He was adamant that he'd pooped in the backyard and the dogs had eaten it. I was skepitcal. Our dogs had never eaten poop before (though, in all fairness, as far as I know, no one had ever pooped in our yard before) and Demon had just starting telling me made up stories, (I'm a pirate, I'm a puppy, I went on a boat) so having him make something like that up was pretty standard. I shared the story with some friends and we all had a good laugh at my imaginative child.
Two days later he came inside, said, "I did it!" and handed me his underwear. I said, "you did what?" He said, "poop." I said, "you have to poop?" He said, "yea." I stood up so we could do the potty thing, and the smell hit me. I look a little more closely at the underwear I was holding. I said, "I think maybe you already pooped some." He says, "yea. I poop! Outisde." Well, shit. (literally) As I gathered my poop filled underwear, and asked him to walk to the bathroom so I could throw them in the wash and clean him up, and I get a good look at him. It wasn't just poop, it was diarrhea. It was all down his legs, on the bottoms of his feet, on his butt, there were little diarrhea footprints through my house, ARGH! POOP! EVERYWHERE!
I took him into his bedroom, laid a towel down, and told him to lie down on it. I tried to wipe as much up as I could, but it was sticky, and dried, and EVERYWHERE. So, I cleaned him up the best I could, and stuck him in the tub. I washed the poop off, and drained and filled the tub a couple of times. Then I added bubbles and toys and let him play, with the bathroom door open. I collected the clothes, the towel, and anything else he may have touched, and threw it all in the wash. I them cleaned the little poo footprints all through the house. I checked on him one last time (Disclaimer: out house is really small, so the whole time I was not more then 5 feet away form him at most) and opened the back door to check the deck, which is where he said he pooped. I took a good look and didn't see any poop. I did, however, see three dogs happily licking their chops.
Take a minute, it's gross.
This is the exact moment I decided my kid could go to college in diapers. It's fine. He'll be fine. I mean, maybe a little socially awkward, but not pooping-in-theback-yard-laughing-when-the-dogs-eat-it socially awkward. Back in diapers he went. Luckily for me, for whatever reason, he'd gotten over his screaming, fighting, whatever, thing that had been going on. Now he let me change his diapers like a nice civilized child. Why not? He'd won this battle. No potty training for him.
That fall he started in a daycare. I stay home, but he was freaking out being stuck inside all day with me and the baby. So, after several harrowing weeks I decided he needed more social interaction. He loved daycare. He loved the kids, the teachers, the learning, everything. Two days before the beginning of December my husband got laid off (which is a whole different blog post) and we pulled Demon out of daycare until we worked out a plan. (or a job) When he left his current teacher told us when he came back he would be in the three year old room, and that he was ready to potty train. She said every day when they went to the bathroom, he went in, took off his dry diaper, sat on the potty and went. His diapers were dry and clean all day at daycare. Well, ok, here's a professional, someone who has worked for years with children, telling me that my kid is ready and we shouldn't have any problems. Maybe a few accidents, but no real problems. Plus, it was freezing cold out. Not the kind of weather that makes one wants to pull their pants down outside. These are both good signs. She gave me a hand out and sent us home.
The first thing the hand out said was, no pull ups, nothing with a waterproof liner, nothing but regular underwear. Everything that keeps the wetness in, also keeps them from getting uncomfortable. If they're never uncomfortable why would they want to stop what they're doing to go to the bathroom? Good point.
And this is when I figured out the trick to potty training. The secret to potty training is: you put them in regular pants and wait for them to get sick of peeing on themselves. Yup, that's it. That's the whole trick. The problem is that parents (me) don't want to clean up the mess form potty training so we try all these new, awesome, inventions, and technology, and spend all this money. The truth is, it usually won't work. What works, every time, is putting them in pants and waiting for them to get sick of peeing on themselves. I mean, it has to happen eventually, right? So, I decided, "ok, he won't go to college in diapers. He may go to college peeing in his pants, but it won't be in diapers." One step forward.
It's been several months since I started this blog post. The "secret" still holds true. Austin did ok with potty training. He got it all figured out, and had no accidents for days. Then it got boring and he started going in his pants again. I just kept cleaning him up, and hoping he'd eventually get bored of sitting in poop. (I mean, I know it's been three years, but eventually he has to, right?)
He started back to daycare, now a 3-4 year old preschool room. After the first day or two he had NO accidents, none! ...at school. Now, two months in, he has no accidents at school, ever. He has no accidents at grandma's, he has no accidents while we're out of the house. He is completely potty trained.... around anyone but us. Away form his parents he will go in the potty every single time. If he's with us? He goes in his pants. Every. Single. Time. There's not even a coincidental going in the potty. I don't fight it, or argue anymore. I know he can do it. He's just torturing me because he can. Ok, so he's potty trained, he can go to college no problem. He'll just pee in his pants while he's at home. Really, in the big scheme of things, it's not so bad. Plus, I'm still convinced he'll get sick of it, eventually. Right?
Disclaimer: you should wait for your child to be old enough to be ready to potty train before attempting this. If you're going to try this method you need to be prepared to clean up whatever comes out of your kid without getting mad. You can't put a lot of pressure on them, you can't punish them for getting it wrong. I am of the opinion that there are very few moments in your child's development where making the wrong single choice could really scar them for life. Potty training is one of them though. Seriously, no one wants their kid to grow up with an unhealthy bathroom complex. The truth is if your kid doesn't have developmental problems, they won't go to kindergarden in diapers. They figure it out. Forget all the mommy pressure, forget all the opinions that all kids should be potty trained by 2, or by 3, or whatever. It's silly, it's part of the "mommy wars," and it's just designed to allow some mommies to feel superior to others. Kids figure it out. They do. They just figure it out quicker if you sick regular pants on them and they can get sick of being uncomfortable, sometimes. (And even then they still have accidents)
I'll let you all know when my kid stops torturing us, and decides he'll go in the potty at home, instead of just out of the home. He knows how to do it, he just doesn't feel like it. It has to happen eventually. ....right?
"He doesn't leave it on the back deck anymore, we've got to check in here"
Screaming at Socks
August 10, 2011
Sometimes having small children makes you want to scream. (Having older children might have the same effect, but I’ve never had older children, so I won’t comment.) And I don’t mean just the, “stop kicking the dog/hitting your sister/licking the door!” kind of screaming. I mean, full on, incoherent, being-attacked-by-killer-bees screaming. I’m talking sit down and have a full on two year old tantrum, screaming. That’s the kind of screaming I’m talking about. If you haven’t experienced that feeling then either your children are very young, or I greatly dislike you, and your genetically well behaved little children.
Sometimes this occurs because all of the children seem to be doing it. Who doesn’t want to fit in? Plus, there’s nothing like a whole world of dueling incoherent screaming to make one lose their mind, quickly. Did you know unpredictable noise is one of the biggest stressors? Neither do my children, apparently. That, or they’re working on some new sort of war time torture routine. Seriously, I’ll let the state department borrow my kids. They could make June Cleaver admit to the Kennedy assassination through pure volume.
Either way, the wanting to scream thing is pretty normal. At least around here. Today I was getting this urge. Not quite the killer-bees-are-attacking kind of screaming, but close. You know what set me off? Socks. Yup, socks. It’s not a typo. I’ve been working my way through folding eight laundry baskets full of clothes. Why are their eight laundry baskets full of clothes? you ask. Well, because I have bronchitis, I am the only one to wash, dry, carry, or fold any laundry, and I have small children. So shut up.
I have, literally, fifteen (FIFTEEN! 15!) socks. Fifteen socks that don’t match each other. Fifteen lonely, single, socks. I can’t match different color socks together. Can’t do it. Too OCD. So, I just end up with a pile of socks that I can’t match, or put away. They just sit there. Every time I do laundry I think, “this is it. This time I’m going to find the missing socks, and I can take at least one of these mismatched lonely socks off of my dresser.” But, no. It doesn’t happen. Instead, with each new load of laundry, I find more mismatched lonely socks. More socks of various colors with no friends to be found. More socks of differing lengths, differing patterns, more socks without a twin. And my pile grows.
Today, looking at my huge pile of mismatched socks I wanted to yell, “where the hell are all my kids socks going?!” It’s a reasonable question. I put in two matching socks, why don’t I get out two matching socks? So, after I have sorted, carried, washed, dried, hauled and folded eight loads of laundry I am still left with a pile of clothing I can’t do anything with. A pile of clothing that just sits, and takes up space, and collects dust, and makes me want to scream in the worst way.
So, if you’ve made it this far, you’re now asking yourself why this is the thing I choose to freak out about. Why this little, pointless, all together minor problem is eroding my cool. The answer is, it’s just one more thing. It’s always one more.
Today after I have survived my three year old son asking me (for the 5th time in as many days) if I’m proud of him for pooping in his underwear. (The answer is always,”no,” by the way) After my one year old screaming for two hours straight. After finding clothes to put them in, finding food to feed them, (x2 x3) after cleaning them, carrying them, driving them, hauling them, chasing them, reasoning with them, stepping on toys, stepping over toys, and being screamed at for all my effort all day long, I can’t even finish folding the damn laundry because the socks have run away. Even the socks are copping an attitude.
BastardsOh Look!
You ever have those days? You know the ones. The, "oh, hey, look, fossilized cheese! Awesome" days. Come on now, you know you do.
I am Mommy
I am Mommy.
I wash hair, cut nails, clean cuts, kiss booboos, brush teeth, do laundry, wash dishes, and make bottles. I change diapers, sheets, outfits, and clothing multiple times a day. I clean pee, poop, puke, blood, snot, crumbs, and miscellaneous sticky stuff. I hold my children up with praise, and down for shots. I am teacher, nurse, chauffeur, art director, dietitian, and coach. I teach lessons and enforce rules. I make breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Then I clean it off the table, floor, walls, and blinds. I go without sleep, food, and often showers. I don’t get vacation days, sicks days, pay, or (often) acknowledgment. I don’t go to the bathroom alone. I shower with the door, and curtain, open. My life is primary colored, motion activated, and runs on batteries. I care for children, dogs, and fish. I do play dates, play class, music class, art class, and children’s museums. I teach numbers, colors, letters, and tame tantrums. I pray for health, help, and sanity. I am the center of someone's universe. I comfort my children when they are hurt, hold them when they are sick, pick them up when the fall, and let them use me to climb higher. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail, but I always try.
I am a mom, and I’m sure I’m not alone.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
If You Give a Kate Some Pie
If you give a Kate some pie with ice cream, she's going to want some lactaid to go with it.
When you bring her the bottle, she will say, "just three."
Once you've found three, she will ask you to put the bottle back,
and while you're up there, to grab her a bottle of water.
When you go to grab some water, you will have to return and tell her there are no more bottles.
When you tell her there are no more bottles of water, she will refuse filtered tap water.
Once she has refused filtered tap water, she will ask for some gatorade.
Once she has the bottle of gatorade, she all ask for a glass of ice to go with it.
Once she has her gatorade over ice, she will need a straw to drink it.
Once there is a straw in her drink she will remember there are bottles of water in the car.
Once she has remembered there are bottles of water in the car, she will get up to go get one.
She will go outside to get her bottle of water, while she is up she will let the dogs outside.
After the dogs are outside, she will have to let the dogs back inside.
After the dogs are inside she will have to yell at them to stop destroying her house.
After she has yelled at the dogs to stop destroying her house, she will put them in their crates.
After she has put the dogs in their crates, she will decide to tidy up the kitchen
While she is tidying up the kitchen she will see some pie.
After she has seen the pie she will decide she should have some pie and ice cream.
When you bring her pie with ice cream, she will tell you she needs some lactaid to go with it.
Inspired by my husband and Laura Joffe Numeroff.
~K
When you bring her the bottle, she will say, "just three."
Once you've found three, she will ask you to put the bottle back,
and while you're up there, to grab her a bottle of water.
When you go to grab some water, you will have to return and tell her there are no more bottles.
When you tell her there are no more bottles of water, she will refuse filtered tap water.
Once she has refused filtered tap water, she will ask for some gatorade.
Once she has the bottle of gatorade, she all ask for a glass of ice to go with it.
Once she has her gatorade over ice, she will need a straw to drink it.
Once there is a straw in her drink she will remember there are bottles of water in the car.
Once she has remembered there are bottles of water in the car, she will get up to go get one.
She will go outside to get her bottle of water, while she is up she will let the dogs outside.
After the dogs are outside, she will have to let the dogs back inside.
After the dogs are inside she will have to yell at them to stop destroying her house.
After she has yelled at the dogs to stop destroying her house, she will put them in their crates.
After she has put the dogs in their crates, she will decide to tidy up the kitchen
While she is tidying up the kitchen she will see some pie.
After she has seen the pie she will decide she should have some pie and ice cream.
When you bring her pie with ice cream, she will tell you she needs some lactaid to go with it.
Inspired by my husband and Laura Joffe Numeroff.
~K
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Em's Dog Pack
Here's my post on why I moved from running Em's Dog Pack, to walking with Stray Rescue.
Em's Dog Pack
Ok friends, here’s the deal: as the team is set up now all the money we raise goes to Best Friends Society. This is the largest national rescue organization helping pets find homes. They’re the ones putting on Strut Your Mutt.
I’m still walking in memory of Em, and in honor of Dover. This is my personal memorial to her. A large donation (made up of my time, and lots of help and donations from everyone I know) to help dogs. She would LOVE this. If she had not passed away, I would still be doing this event. I probably wouldn’t be quite as driven as I am though. I wish I could capture and explain her light and her energy to those who didn’t know her. It was inspiring, and maddening at times. She was so GOOD. Now that she’s gone, I feel as though the world would have lost that goodness, except, even in death, she has inspired us. She has inspired everyone she ever touched to work for good, to do something good, to IMPROVE the world in some way. This is my good deed for this year. This is my effort to inject some Emily back into my life.
Best Friends Society is a great organization, and deserves every penny. But, and there’s always a but, when I started this, I really wanted to help dogs LOCALLY. St Louis is a hard city. It can be a mean city, especially for children and dogs. What I really want is for all this money we’re raising to go back into our city, to improve our city, to inject a little Emily in St Louis. So i’m disbanding Em’s Dog Pack. (Only officially) Everyone registered with me will be moved to Stray Rescue’s Dog Pack. If you register to walk with us, register for Stray Rescue’s Dog pack (it gives you a choice when you register) This will mean that every cent (minus processing fees) that we raise goes directly to Stray Rescue. They work in the worst neighborhoods, they save the pit bulsl and the pit bull mixes, they work against horrendous odds and conditions to rescue and place these loving animals. They take the least wanted, the most abused, the hardest hit, and they do everything in their power to save them, and give them a good life. THAT is where I want the money to go, where I NEED the money to go. I need some Emily in my world. and I want it working where I can see it.
I still have my Em’s Dog Pack T-shirts. I will be wearing mine. Anyone else who wants one just let me know. We walk in her honor, we walk for her memory, and we are raising money to do good. I paid $20 per shirt, I will give $5 for every shirt bought to Stray Rescue. I will give anyone who wants to wear a T-Shirt one, for free. Come, walk, share her picture, share her love, and share the goodness she could bring to the world. If you want one, let me know your size and I will bring it down to the walk on Sept 22nd.
My cousin Emily was a beautiful, vibrant, twenty-seven year old. She passed away, in her sleep, last summer of an extremely rare, until then unknown, condition. Her companion dog was by her side in her last moments, and stayed with her until he was taken away. He let the paramedics check her. He was a pit bull mix, good friend, and a good dog. Emily loved Dover, and Dover returned it ten-fold. (Dover is still well loved, and being taken good care of)
Emily love all animals, but especially dogs, and especially rescues. St Louis is awful city for dogs. So it's in her name I'd like to raise money to help save these lovable furballs. So come walk with us! Join our pack! Or donate to our pack! Every little but helps!
Em's Dog Pack
Ok friends, here’s the deal: as the team is set up now all the money we raise goes to Best Friends Society. This is the largest national rescue organization helping pets find homes. They’re the ones putting on Strut Your Mutt.
I’m still walking in memory of Em, and in honor of Dover. This is my personal memorial to her. A large donation (made up of my time, and lots of help and donations from everyone I know) to help dogs. She would LOVE this. If she had not passed away, I would still be doing this event. I probably wouldn’t be quite as driven as I am though. I wish I could capture and explain her light and her energy to those who didn’t know her. It was inspiring, and maddening at times. She was so GOOD. Now that she’s gone, I feel as though the world would have lost that goodness, except, even in death, she has inspired us. She has inspired everyone she ever touched to work for good, to do something good, to IMPROVE the world in some way. This is my good deed for this year. This is my effort to inject some Emily back into my life.
Best Friends Society is a great organization, and deserves every penny. But, and there’s always a but, when I started this, I really wanted to help dogs LOCALLY. St Louis is a hard city. It can be a mean city, especially for children and dogs. What I really want is for all this money we’re raising to go back into our city, to improve our city, to inject a little Emily in St Louis. So i’m disbanding Em’s Dog Pack. (Only officially) Everyone registered with me will be moved to Stray Rescue’s Dog Pack. If you register to walk with us, register for Stray Rescue’s Dog pack (it gives you a choice when you register) This will mean that every cent (minus processing fees) that we raise goes directly to Stray Rescue. They work in the worst neighborhoods, they save the pit bulsl and the pit bull mixes, they work against horrendous odds and conditions to rescue and place these loving animals. They take the least wanted, the most abused, the hardest hit, and they do everything in their power to save them, and give them a good life. THAT is where I want the money to go, where I NEED the money to go. I need some Emily in my world. and I want it working where I can see it.
I still have my Em’s Dog Pack T-shirts. I will be wearing mine. Anyone else who wants one just let me know. We walk in her honor, we walk for her memory, and we are raising money to do good. I paid $20 per shirt, I will give $5 for every shirt bought to Stray Rescue. I will give anyone who wants to wear a T-Shirt one, for free. Come, walk, share her picture, share her love, and share the goodness she could bring to the world. If you want one, let me know your size and I will bring it down to the walk on Sept 22nd.
My cousin Emily was a beautiful, vibrant, twenty-seven year old. She passed away, in her sleep, last summer of an extremely rare, until then unknown, condition. Her companion dog was by her side in her last moments, and stayed with her until he was taken away. He let the paramedics check her. He was a pit bull mix, good friend, and a good dog. Emily loved Dover, and Dover returned it ten-fold. (Dover is still well loved, and being taken good care of)
Emily love all animals, but especially dogs, and especially rescues. St Louis is awful city for dogs. So it's in her name I'd like to raise money to help save these lovable furballs. So come walk with us! Join our pack! Or donate to our pack! Every little but helps!
Kilometers for Canines in Crisis
Today my dog and I walked a 5k for Canines in Crisis. I'm not sure we raised any money. (Just whatever our registration cost was) I had fun though. Scarlett and I enjoyed ourselves. I meant to take a picture of us, but I forgot. We also got to socialize with a good friend of mine who I've know for forever, and don't get to see nearly enough. I meant to take a picture of her and her dog too, but, of course, forgot.
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| Here's a picture of Scarlett from last night with her dragon |
It was a nice walk, and a good cause. Scarlett was super nervous. She still terrified of people, and dogs...and kids... and butterflies...and...well, you get the idea. We're working on it. In spite of that though she really seemed to enjoy herself. She really loved the walk. She's a DREAM to walk. She just keeps her eye on me and walks. She seems to enjoy it as much as me. I knew this dog was a kindred soul.
In two weeks we are walking with Stray Recuse of St Louis to raise money. I've been working hard on donations, and was able to bring $2,168 to their group to help dogs. We're doing Strut Your Mutt in Queeny park on Sept 22. Here is my fundraising page. I am walking, and raising money, in memory of my cousins Emily. You can read a bit about it here, if you're feeling brave. I am working on a post about just her. She is motivating me to try and do all I can for a group I know works hard in the St Louis area to save those dogs most in need of saving. Today I met people from many groups who are all doing the same thing. St Louis is a hard city for dogs. Today it was driven home again.
I've been thinking a lot about what I'm going to do when Helli starts preschool in January. I am so ready to do something other then be mom 24/7. Not that I don't love being mom, it's just that it's pretty much all I've done for 4 years. I will always be mom, and I would like to still be home for my kids when they are home. I've been looking for something I can do during their school hours. There are lots of options. I think that this is where i'll start though. I've always wanted to work with rescues, to help dogs. I have always wanted to volunteer, and have just never quite managed to work it in. So, this is my goal when I get Helli settled in school. I'm going to start volunteering, and see what I can do to help. At the very least I can walk dogs, which fits in nicely with my other goal to find more time to exercise. I'm really excited about this decision. Who knows, I may even be able to
segue it into a job someday.
I wore my shirt too, and handed out fliers. Hopefully we can get some more people walking, and help Stray Rescue.
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| Front |
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| Back |
Here's the picture form Jen's stepmom. It's a pretty nice one.
I tracked down some candid pictures of us on our walk!! Here's Scarlett looking adorable and well behaved, and me looking fat. Ew. As well as my wonderful friend ♥ Both of us in our Em's Dog Pack shirts. (completely unplanned. She's a really good friend) ♥
I tracked down some candid pictures of us on our walk!! Here's Scarlett looking adorable and well behaved, and me looking fat. Ew. As well as my wonderful friend ♥ Both of us in our Em's Dog Pack shirts. (completely unplanned. She's a really good friend) ♥
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| This is Jenny and Max walking with us <3 |
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| I'm going back to not leaving the house in anything but long pants |
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