Hot Dog

Update: Still no potty action. But that’s OK. And you will see as follows…

It’s ok, because I am slowly succeeding in small steps in other directions. It’s night-time training pants ahoy! And it’s such a big step to get him adjusted to them. Tonight was day 3 of night-time pants. And mostly the reason this has become de rigueur is because we had a series of wet bed nights.

And so we had to take action and that action was rejected. Rejected nightly. And with hearty enthusiasm.

But then last night? Success!!!

Total high-five for Mummy!!

The game plan? Wiggle those pants on those little fighting, chubby little thighs. Distract with intense discussion of Mickey Mouse. Carry squirming child to bathroom and place fat feet on bathroom counter. Stand him up and commence admiration of ‘Big Boy Pants’. And then get a treat.

And yes, that’s right. I do bribe him. And it’s a very successful bribe.

V now knows how to say ‘mirror’. And ‘big boy pants’.

And so? De rigueur.

In other exciting news… Vince has just discovered Mickey Mouse. Now as we reside in Florida, it is really kind of surprising to me that he has just noticed him. We have only been to Disney a million times. I mean, M works there on the weekends for Gosh’s sake.

This actually happened this past weekend and we have been a Mickey Mouse Club House home from then on. Which, to be honest, is an amazing change from reruns of Sesame Street. M and I were quoting and ranking the ones we hated the most. ‘Alphabots’ is right on top. If you watch Sesame Street, you know what I mean.

With each passing day, V’s obsession seems to grow. Last night he dragged me out of another room to dance the ‘Hot Dog’ with him.

And this afternoon? Well, apparently he cried when Daddy didn’t join in and dance with him. I promise to post a video if I can catch this unbelievable act in the process. M dancing is a rare and unseen thing, rare in that I have only seen it once or twice in our whole decade long relationship.

It’s totally an event worth catching on tape.

So Mickey, Big Boy Pants and Daddy dancing to Hot Dog.

That’s the week so far.

And heres the video so you can learn too!

xoxo a.m.

Big girl panties

Tonight I was the biggest big girl of all the big girls.

I took my son to the pool by myself…High five for Mummy!

M’s been working these last 2 nights and this was something we would usually do as a family. Last night I chickened out. But last night I did make V wear training pants to bed (which happily resulted in a break of the wet-bed syndrome from the last few nights). So while I chickened out on the pool front, I totally had a parenting win on the training pants front.

Tonight I pulled up those big girl panties, sucked it up and put on my bikini and hit up the YMCA with V. Alone. ALONE. Did I mention the alone part?

So alone.

And so into the pool we went, accompanied by an ear-piercing scream. I literally had 2 more holes in my ear-lobe post-entrance.

And then? Things were all fine. We kicked and paddled around for a few minutes and then headed over to the wading pool. It comes up to the middle of V’s chest and has a huge waterfall umbrella thing that you can duck under right in the middle of the pool. It’s maybe 10 feet or so in diameter and the water is a wee bit ripply. V is both fascinated and appalled by it.

Today he started off fascinated. We waded all around and then I went under the fountain and stood in it’s ‘shade’.  And then V walked in all by himself. This in itself was a huge high-five. And then he went out and did another lap of the wading pool. And with each successive lap he got lower and lower in the water. Until he was frog marching around and shouting “Mummy too Mummy too!!!!!”.

I did not join in the frog marching in 18 inches of water.

Several times during this ‘marching’ he sort of tried to swim.

I know!! He’s freakin’ fearless!I guess it’s fair to say that he continued fearless and was not appalled at all.

And during those times? Yes Fran, I was right behind him. And I only made eye contact with the Life Guard a million and one times. Apparently we were the hot spot attraction of the pool this evening.

We just finished 2 weeks of lessons at the Y. And I feel like he needs to go back immediately and get right into those lessons where they force your child to learn how to float and kick and paddle. Because literally he pushed us both away when we are swimming with him.

I believe that he really thinks he can just kick lightly and propel himself all over the pool. It’s frightening to watch. And I should know as I have watched it numerous times.

This little independent 2 year old is serious. Serious about doing everything by himself.

It’s enough to give one a heart attack every freakin’ day of the week.

See what I mean about those big girl panties? Mine were totally pulled up to my waist… and my stubborn lip was stuck out and maybe quivering a little bit.

I watched him voluntarily put his face under water and try to ‘swim’ so many times that what started off as “Good job Sweet pea!” ended up as “Oh. You’re doing that again?”.

Great. Just great, I thought calmly while V ‘swam’ again for the billionth time.

M and I are so having a chat tomorrow about more swimming lessons…

Before Little Man drives himself to the pool and takes a dip.

Sanity please!

xoxo a.m.

Smack-down

Update: Currently there has been no pee or poo on the potty. And also there is an extreme lack of interest in the potty, ‘big boy pants’ training pants and basically everything to do with potty training.

Now that I’ve got that out of the way, on to more interesting things.

If it isn’t about poo, then you know some other sort of minor disaster is happening over here. It’s all chaos all the time. ALL the time.

We are having a bout of hitting, screaming and ‘MOVE’ happening over here.

First it starts with screaming. The screaming it peppered with whatever the problem is. For example:

“No! No Mickey Mouse! NO!” (2 seconds later, ‘Yay Hot Dog!”)

“No! NO milk! Juice!” (and then 2 seconds later… ‘Milk ok, no juice’~ what the hell?)

“NOOOOO! No Woody shorts! No! No Buzz!!’ (and then, again, 2 seconds later ‘Woody!!! Buzz!! Yay Woody shorts! Yay!’)

Ack. I could go on and on. It’s total bi-partisan over here. Makes my brain hurt.

These extremely frequent outbursts are combined with hitting and biting. WTF.

And our response? Time out.

Yup. Timeout as long as we can make him stay there. Followed by saying “I’m Sorry” and a hug. And then we say “No hitting, no biting” etc, whatever the crimes are…

Mostly though, it’s been those two.

It’s been those ‘two’ repeatedly. Dammit.

He gets mad. And then he bites whatever it is that he is mad at: Suitcase, Dinosaur, spoon, bowl, chair, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, his own foot, the baby gate etc etc. And after he bites it? He hits it.

Mummy, the dog, that jasmine plant out back that threatened his tricycle, the T.V., the door, the baby gate etc.

Time out.

Time the freak out.

Lord have mercy. Will we ever survive these twos?

And as I am now reporting post-Monday? The answer might be no.

I might not survive, but the ‘Mummy-Monster’ certainly will. That’s my alternate persona’s name (and apparently several other Mothers that I know very well’s name too [ps: that grammar is crappy])

She growls out of me from to time. And those times seem to be happening a little more frequently.

Sentences like “MOVE!”, which, in retrospect, isn’t a sentence, but when said with force repeatedly and combined with sharp and violent pushes (violent for a 2 year old) can make one crazy.

And other sentences like: “No! Noooooooo!” combined with violent movements and the breaking of baby gates. Make you wonder what kind of crazy Olympian I gave birth to.

And then other things like: “No!!!!!!” and “Nooooooooo!” and “Mummy, No! Nooooo!” plus smack smack smack…(plus sound effects)

Mummy-Monster is one intolerant beast. Sharp looks, smack-downs and all that shizzle. Mummy-monster is one tough bitch.

Yup. Better look out, What ever tolerance I might have had for you drivers, walkers, cyclists, strollers etc is now at it’s limit.

So ya, suck it.

With love… a.m.

Panties

Do you even want to read more about this? Since it’s all we are living and breathing over here, too bad. You have too. Well, I mean, I am going to write about it and hopefully you will honour my blog with your presence?

Last night was another disaster sleep-wise. It was 3:30 this time that we woke up to “Mummy! Muuuuuuummmy! Daddy! Daddy too, Daddy tooooooo!”

And so Daddy went and got the wee man who had an annoying amount of energy. We got all cosy in bed, all snuggled up and then? There was an announcement.

“WET”.

And wet he was. And very very wet. And why? Well some smart person had put him to bed in training pants that clearly were not designed for the amount of pee that comes out of my child. And also they are designed to let them feel the wet. So they can acknowledge the wet and vocalize it.

I think I didn’t realize the scope of the potty training. It’s not just about the potty. And the pee.

One needs to understand the potty training pants. And I guess there is also the option of not understanding the pants and letting things ‘hang loose’ and be prepared to deal with the consequences. But since it’s early days, to be honest I am not sure if either of us are ready for that. We need to be eased in. As eased in as we can.

So we have a ton of paraphernalia.

We have wipes for the potty. We have a new potty seat (that I injured myself on while using a pair of scissors as a screwdriver last night to make adjustments so it would fit the toilet). ..(ps: I have a Toy Story band-aid on my finger right now).

We have a huge assortment of ‘Big boy pants’.

Ones with Diego. Ones with Woody and Buzz. And then some others with Woody and Buzz.

And some cloth briefs to go over those if need be.

Last nights debacle involved non-night time potty training pants. Plus diaper rash. So in the middle of the early morning, I changed his pants. Dude.

Apparently I am a push-over as V demanded ‘big boy pants’ and I complied. However, he will let Daddy put a diaper on him. Jaime is a push-over when it comes to her son. Thank god we are not famous or someone would for sure kidnap him and demand a huge hostage amount (#pushover).

Anyways. I went on my lunch break and got some ‘night-time strength’ pull-ups.

I was apparently doing things totally out of step. I should have bought them all in one fell swoop. I think I was just overwhelmed. And post-diaper-a-thon, I feel like there needs to be some clues for us clueless parents. Those first steps to training are hard ones. It feels like starting over. Right over. Like suddenly you are on 2 1/2 hour sleep intervals.

And this time? It confuses both of you, as they are old enough to be confused too.

Ok, so tonight? V is wearing a gorgeous pair of night-time pull-ups, or ‘Big boy pants’ as we refer to them (since I have accidentally called them ‘panties’ about a million times. And have gotten a million dirty looks from the Big M everytime I slip up).

And I confess that I had this actual conversation:

“I bought V Big Boy panties!!”

“Jame, um, they are not called that.”

And then we both drew a blank. I don’t think I have ever actually said the word ‘briefs’ in my life.And then M choked out “Briefs, call them briefs”.

I looked at him like he was a crazy person. Oh, wait. He is.

Briefs, not panties. Note to self…

xoxo a.m.

Queen Mother

We left off yesterday as V was handing me a diaper full of a giant poo that he had just created. Such a thoughtful little boy.

And as I drove off to work after passing it on to M, all I could think about was urine, feces and pants full of both.

Oh, and then pleasant things like how V is a big boy now and how I GUESS I (we) need to make the move to the big boy pants. And this was a tough one! How to you know when they are ready for no more diapers and just training pants?

I guess when they hand the diaper to you, that’s a good sign. And so it was. Now our house is full of Toy Story 3 potty paraphernalia. And to be honest? It is all rather exhausting. Especially since we are on uncertain, shakey ground in terms of potty experience.

Let’s face it. All we have had is one big poo in the potty. And then 2 removed diapers. Oh, and then a refusal to be diapered yesterday and a firm vocalization to wear ‘Diego’ (that’s who is on the training pants). Not that he knows who Diego is. Since we never watch that show. Somehow he just knows. It’s like osmosis or something..

But that’s not much to go on. And so I am making it all up (and backing it up with things my Joa and my Shannon have told me). Those girls know where it’s at.

Tonight we were extremely excited about going potty and taking a bath. At least until I took off his diaper and saw the WORST diaper rash EVER.

Oh great.

And so bath? Not so much. I left the experience drenched. It was like I had been on a water ride at one of the parks.

And diaper? No. Training pants? Also no. Regardless, I Desitined that butt down and pulled one up. Red painful-looking bum? Check!!

Today there was no diapers removed and handed to a parent. Nothing was removed at all actually. In fact, it was just a normal awful day with a two year old. He woke up at 2:30 and wouldn’t go back to sleep. And he just wanted Mummy and Daddy’s bed. And then just wanted to make pig noises in our bed. Not sleep at all. That would have been logical.

So he thrashed and we slept lightly. He woke up and so did we. He made pig noises and we groaned. He talked to Chewie and we stuck our fingers in our ears. He said ‘Mummy snuggles  and Mummy snuggled him within an inch of his life. And then?

Mummy said, “Daddy. Wake up. I have to go to work in 3 hours and I need some sleep”.

Daddy, “Alright Vincent, mummy’s kicking us out, lets go sleep in the little bed.”

Vincent, “Little bed ok.”

And then Mummy slept. And then Mummy woke up at 6 am and went running. This was quite important. Oh yeah… and then Mummy was tired all day long because of a fractured night.

But would you like to see what always makes it better? And this always does. Seriously.

Having ones small child throw oneself at you while shouting ‘MUMMY! Mummy Mum. Mummy! Mum. Mummy’. And all of this while surprising him at a restaurant this evening.

I felt like I was Queen of the Universe.

Love you Vincent…

xoxo

Poop

This morning I got the best indication that potty training is a lot closer than I really thought.

I am so on the potty train and have been for the last few months. I’ve read all those things about how hard it is to potty train boys and am feeling pretty determined that I am not going to fall into that trap/cycle/pattern. Or whatever. Dammit! I WILL train this child!

So a while ago we got a little potty seat for the toilet. And this was quite exciting for a while. V sat on it, he got a treat and we clapped our hands.

And nothing happened. Which was to be expected. I just wanted him comfortable with the whole idea of it.

And then there was the miraculous poop. I redoubled my efforts after that holy event. And nothing happened. There wasn’t even a piddle in the potty.

And so we let the potty slide for a while.

And recently he’s become a little more interested in it. So we are sitting on the potty again. Counting to 10 and getting treats. Mummy goes potty. So does Daddy and Chewie.

V says exciting things to me like “Poo-poo poshy” and I whisk him off to the throne. Where nothing happens. In fact everything seems to happen the second we get off of the potty. I even tried, last week this was, having him sit on the potty while I slowly poured some water in the bathtub, thinking that would move things along.

All it did was made me have to go to the bathroom. And then when I plunked V in the tub after potty-time, he immediately peed in the tub. ARGH!

So over this last weekend, when V learned how to undo his diaper… well, lets just say that meant things were on the move.

And all M had to say about this was “Jame, I wish you hadn’t bought those cheap diapers.”

Well, excuse me for being more environmentally conscious and choosing to hit up the 7th Generation brand instead. Not cheap. But better. But maybe this purchase will bring on the training?

So this morning, while I was running around the house getting things sorted out for this morning, I heard a velcro-like rip and turned around to find V with a naked bum.

Holding his diaper in his hands. He toddled over to me and handed it carefully over. Oh look!! it was full of poo!!

How amazing! What a nice present! “M!! V has another present for you honey!” And he actually came downstairs, and then I handed him some poo. And then we laughed. And then I looked over at V who had this rather worried/scared look on his face.

I just felt awful. “Aw, honey, it’s ok!! Next time you have to go poo-poo you tell Daddy and you can go poo-poo on the potty!!” He perked up immediately.

Update 9:34 pm, so far there has been no poo-poo on the potty as of yet. I’ll keep you posted…

Well, this is embarressing…

We all know you would rather read about the vomit, poop and general embarrassment then, say, me. I like to sneak in a ‘high-five Jaime’ post every once in a while, and it always makes me laugh because no-one reads it. But write about poop or vomit?? Hits a-million. Ha!! I know, I know… just put up with me. Sometimes I need a little self-indulgence…

Anyways, switching to bodily fluids and such…

V has developed several new skillz (with a ‘z’ ’cause they’re totally mad skillz). One of which I have only heard about but have not yet witnessed. And it scares me a little.

Sometime during the middle of last week, I came home, went upstairs and discovered that V’s bedroom door had a child-proof knob-thingy on the inside of his room. I asked M about this new addition and he turned to me with a total dead-pan face and said:

“Yes. He opened his door. It is all over. FOR EVER.”

I had thought it was over when he climbed out of his crib. And previously when he started walking. And then just before that when he started crawling. You see where I am going with this? This is the latest incarnation of “It’s over FOR EVER.”

So there’s that. And then there’s there this other thing that surprised me yesterday while V was cruising in his diaper around the living room.

I went upstairs for a minute and when I returned, V’s diaper was just hanging off of him. It usually sags in the butt a little anyways, but this time it was proper hanging off. As in one side of it had been undone. And his hand was making a move down the front of his diaper.

“Don’t touch!!” I shouted. And he listened. This is the only good thing that he’s learned from day-care. Not to touch ‘things’ and ‘bits’ or the ‘area’ while you are getting your diaper changed. And this has evolved into a whole ‘don’t touch’ approach for anything in the zone.

That hand shot out of that saggy diaper so damn fast.

“Mummy help”, he said. And so off we went upstairs to sort out this out.

And then it happened again later. And my imagination went crazy. Things rubbed on walls. Things like urine-soaked diapers and poo.. Stuff jammed in toilets. And things unexpectedly where it they shouldn’t be (ie: diaper on my pillow etc). I should accentuate that none of these things have happened. YET.

Ok, so he can (apparently) open doors and remove his own diaper.

And then this morning? Oh just you wait for this one…

This morning, on Father’s day of all days, he came over to me as I was standing in front of the dishwasher cutting up papaya and PUSHED me and shouted “Move!!!!”.

What? Since when do you push your mother that gave (painful) birth to you and cleans up your poop every day and tell her to move.

Well, I guess since you hit the two-year old mark.

I wish you could have seen my face. And heard me say “EXCUSE ME?!”

And then heard V say “Peeeeeeez.” Oh, well saying please right after a big ol’ push makes everything all better.

Didn’t you know that?

Well, now you do…  xoxo a.m.

Powerful

I never thought of myself as powerful.

But if you would like to describe me as such, I don’t mind..

I got up early to go running the other day. On my way to my path, I disturbed a family of deer. They leaped and pranced and dashed past me so fast. I thought about them while I headed to where I was going. I imagined hooves on my feet. I ran. I went faster.

It was delicious.

And then after my run, I checked my email.

And I received an email that was amazing.

My second cousin believes that I am so powerful that he wrote about me in his blog. A blog about running.

Since I am not a professional runner, by any means. And in fact, haven’t ran a race since way before I was pregnant, I was taken-aback. Ha!! I run. I love running. But, well, I work full-time and have a two year old and my husband works 2 jobs and it is really hard to carve out a little time to make that work. Oh, and I live in Florida. and it is super freakin’ hot in the evenings. And mornings. And all the time. Except February (I ran a lot in February).

It is hard to make it work.

It’s taken a lot of work from M and I to figure out what works. And as I am blessed to be married to a teacher with the summers off, it is making my summer brilliant. Running every morning if I get up 30 minutes earlier.

As I imagine it is hard for any full-time working mother to make it work as well. It is a tough act to balance. Work. Children. Health. Wellness. Sanity. Love. Etc.

Hey you know what?

I am freakin’ powerful! Thanks Clark. I appreciate it.

To check out how powerful I and other amazing women are, click HERE

Summertime (a la Dad)

‘

Summer of Dad has commenced.

This means there will be copious amounts of sunscreen used, lots of dirty socks (when those are worn at all), extremely messy hair and a haphazardly cleaned house.

Today was an exceptionally busy day for everyone. M had to work at Disney early. The boys had their first swimming lessons this morning. I had a doctors appointment, quickly followed by V having his 2 year check on the complete opposite side of town. So there was a lot of frantic driving around and quick phone calls containing hurried shouted instructions.

“Make sure he’s clean, you know, down ‘there'”

“Please dress him cutely”

“Snack!!! He needs a snack!!!”

Ok, so most of the shouting was regarding V. And it wasn’t that loud of shouting, maybe more of a brisk chatter. And it was mostly me directing my  ‘chatter’ at M. You know, since he is clearly not an adult and can’t doing anything by himself without my direction.

Swimming lessons went very well. V learned how to blow bubbles, kick and jump to Daddy on the count of 3.

My doctor’s appointment went very well too.

And so did V’s. Extremely well, in fact. V is almost 3 feet tall, weights 32 lbs and is quite the charmer. And, also to my delight, has a language level of a 3 year old. How wonderful is that!! I was delighted to hear that.

F-ing DELIGHTED.

He is stringing words together at a higher level than she expected him to be and his vocabulary was a lot larger as well.

M and I did a total parental high-five over the phone while I was relaying all of this to him.

We (that would be the ‘royal We’) are also not having any wheat issues right now. We are, in fact, un-wheat-free. Wheat is living in our house again and people are eating and enjoying it. We are still on strict peanut avoidance though and are contemplating a reintroduction of strawberries. We also are having no eczema issues too. And no asthma problems. And are also not sick.

What the freak dimension did we move into? Sheeeeeeiiit!! It’s just effing crazy positive health over here!!! (although, please forget about the puke-post from Friday, that was just a sugar issue)

Well, whatever freak health dimension we are currently in, it is not the tidy dimension. The house was cleaned so weirdly that I was in shock. And M was at work so I couldn’t call him and ask him things like “Where did you put V’s blanket that I just washed?” or “Where is the NetFlix dvd?” or “Why is the carpet really really wet?” (that one I actually know the answer to).

Or “Why is there a random roll of toilet paper on the kitchen counter?”, “What’s that stain on the floor?” and “Why are  your swim trunks in the garage?”. Ok, I made that last one up… they were in the kitchen sink.

Ok, I made that one up too. They were just in the guest bathroom sink. *sigh* Kind of a letdown now, eh?

Oh Summer of Dad, how I missed you! I am pretty sure you will be better than last years. Pretty darn sure…

xoxo a.m.

Survival

So we survived turning 2. Just barely.

Today we finally managed to celebrate properly, with absolutely no puking at all. This, of course, was a super bonus for us parents.

We had the teeniest of teeny parties. Well, it was teeny compared to last years Silver Spurs Arena-sized party. Something I will never ever ever do again. Ever.

Just a few very very close friends and their sweet children. A huge freakin’ cake. A large amount of Sangria. A deliciously warm pool. A BBQ. Oh Lawd. Such a beautiful day.

Did I mention the Sangria?

Thank you so much to all our lovely family/friends that helped us celebrate with no puke at all. Any celebration that involves no puke is pretty much the best celebration ever.

Did I mention that V didn’t eat any cake at all? It’s true. And I am pretty sure that that is to thank for no puke. And this is a wee short post. Just a wee one.

Mostly just a post-party coma blather….

Happy Birthday Vince. Welcome to Two. Daddy and Mummy? Two is welcoming you too… (please pray we survive)