Learning curve, oh and poop

All of Eleanor’s poop looks just like this. Seriously.

 

So the other day I literally caught poop in my hand. Despite being the mother of two, this was a first time experience for me. Obviously I’ve been pooped on, thrown up on, peed on, had things throw at me, been covered in projectile vomit repeatedly… You know, the usual badges of honour that us parents wear.

But this was, honestly, a first.

Sometimes I think that I can communicate with my baby. She seems to understand me when I babble things like ‘Who’s a pretty girl? You are! Are you pretty? You ARE! Who loves Mummy? YOU DO! Who’s my sweetie pie? YOU ARE!!!!’

(Also, I have to admit…. It is slightly humbling to hear your older child talk to your younger child in the baby voice you use. It makes him look slightly psycho. He’s four. And so that would make me…??? Old and more psychotic. Great.)

She smiles a lot while I say these (and even more ridiculous) things. So clearly we are communicating. And so when I ask her things like ‘Please don’t poop on me. Or pee. Please don’t poop or pee on me.’ as I am carrying her to the bath, I feel optimistic. Since we’ve been ‘communicating’, we’ve have no issues. 2 weeks ago, I started feeding her cereal and since then, things are a little more up in the air. Bowel movements are a bit up in the air these days….

Ie: Feed cereal. Poop it out instantaneously. Feed peas. Poop out immediately.

So I guess my plan of ‘feed dinner, immediately take a bath after’ probably was not the most well thought out plan I’ve had in recent weeks. Other plans that are equally bad? Eating hard boiled eggs bought at 7-11 for breakfast, forget to wash hands and lick fingers that are covered in dry formula and accidentally walk through puddle that is actually ‘garbage water’ (as in that liquid that leaks out of a dumpster).

Naked bottom holding with long distance walking is for sure up with these other special plans. And also, total potential Olympic fodder for future games.

Anyways, blah blah blah she pooped in my hand. Then we both took a bath and I sanitized my hand.

Parenting: a constant learning curve.

xoxo am

 

Breastfeeding, Boobs and other fun stuff

 

Formula, boobs, whatever… just as long as it’s in my tummy!

Breasts, such a tricky subject to dive in to. So let’s get at it.

Please save us from poo…

Yup, that's pretty much how I felt about it too...

So yesterday morning started off on a good note. It was the last day of Spring Break for Edward and we had a family day planned. Vince was not going to daycare and we were all going to try and sleep just a little later than we normally do, you know, for fun.

Edward and I woke up to Eleanor’s noisy morning cries and I busied myself with feeding her. Edward interjected just before I got started with “Did you want me to feed her and you handle Vince? Or what’s the easiest for you?’ (Bless him, he’s trying to help). I shook my head no and indicated that I would prefer him to handle Vince. Total non-verbal communication-style. Yup, that’s how good our marriage is. I grunt and he translates that to complete sentences and vice versa…

Sex and the toddler

My pregnancy evoked an interesting development in our house today, one I guess that was to be expected but, at the same time, one that I was not really thinking I’d be exploring this particular Sunday.

Please to read my conversation with my son:

“Mummy? Is the baby in your tummy?”, Vince asked as he walked deliberately towards me.

“Yes Sweetie, the baby is in my tummy”, I responded absent-mindedly.

“Is it in your bottom tummy, here?” he asked as he patted my lower stomach area, “Or is it up here”, he continued as he patted higher up on my tummy.

“The baby is all in here, all around”, I responded, rubbing my belly in a circular motion. I was totally engrossed in rereading ‘The Host’ by Stephanie Meyer and not really paying much attention.

“If the baby is in here, then what is this Mummy?” Vince asked as he inquisitively patted my breasts.

Well, that got my attention. And I actually put down my nook. AND I made a face.

Because really, I had no idea where to go with this one. I glanced over at Edward, who was in the kitchen making some much needed coffee. He got in late last night and from the looks of it REALLY REALLY needed to drink that coffee before I involved him in anything like this.

While I was stalling, Vince kept going:

“What are they Mummy? Are they elephants?? Are they teddy bears? Are they giraffes?

Good lord, he thought he was funny. And I kept having to swipe little hands off my chest, where they were apparently planning on parking for the day.

I looked over at Edward: “A little help please?! What did you want to call these?

He mouthed “Fun bags” at me with a smirky grin. Ass. Clearly the  coffee had done it’s trick. And clearly I was hitting this one solo.

“Well, they are Mummy’s… ahhh… boobies…”, I said with a wince. Saying that sentence out-loud made me feel like the lamest, oldest, lame-o ever in the history of lame. Geez-us. And while I was saying that word out-loud, I looked over at Edward who  was making a disapproving face at me. He apparently did not approve  of my word choice.

But that was ok, because V said “Your Boo-boos?” and I leapt on it like it was a raft and I was drowning.

“Yes!!! Booboos!” Probably I didn’t need to shout it so loudly. And then the moment passed, he stopped touching my chest and the morning progressed…

Holy touch and go Batman!

And I think we are going to leave them as ‘booboos’ for the time being. Easier, no? I am quite aware that this subject will come up again. Actually, I am surprised that this is the first time we’ve had to address it. I might need to get one of those age appropriate sex books. Or something. Gah. Can’t he stay ignorant forever? I don’t really need to tell him about this kind of stuff, right?

I think I’ll just sweep it under the rug for the time being… K? Shhh, don’t tell…

xxoo a.m.

 

Sleep please.

This is what my brain looks like right now...

Let me tell you all about last night.

First though, let me just say I am in an exhaustion coma. M-f’er am I ever tired. So is Edward. Vince is totally passed out. Which is really not that surprising.

Late last night, we awoke to the sounds of terrified wailing. Which quickly turned into shrieking. And then turned into sobbing. By the time the sobbing was going on, both of us were sufficiently awake to actually move and respond.

I got up and opened his door.

“Muuuuummmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyy….. I wanna stay with you, in your bed. I wanna go Mummy, let’s go.”

We calmly and orderly proceeded to the big bed. Whereupon Vince closed the door himself and climbed up into the bed and settled down right into my spot. And refused to move. Even a little bit. And then he told me to go sleep in his bed.

Guess what? I did. I was so tired. And about 2 minutes into that, he started shrieking for me. Despite Daddy being right next to him. And so I was lured back to bed. I went as docile as a lamb. I think it was about 2:30 am at this time. I was slowly turning into a zombie.

Finally, with the addition of Vince’s own pillow and a sippy cup of water, he settled down.

“Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mum, Mum, Mummy.”

“Yes?”

“When it rains we use an umbrella so we can get the rain off.”

“Yes baby, that’s right.”

(Oh please kill me now)

“Mum, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mum, Mum, Mummy.”

“Yes love?”

“We do a poo and pee in the potty and not in out pants.”

“That’s right baby.”

“Mummy, Mummy, Mum, Mum, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy.”

“Yes?”

“Halloween’s coming and I’m going to be a dragon.”

“Oh.”

Edward did not respond to any of this, mostly likely because he was not being addressed. I heard him snoring at one point and thought “You lucky, lucky bastard”.

Bastard.

And then somehow we were sleeping. And when I woke up next, it was morning and Vince’s feet were in my face.

Somehow the day progressed and is now over. Edward and I are on the couch watching ‘Attack the Block” and I’ve now been told to go to bed.

Mmmmmmmm, tired blog tonight….

xoxo a.m.

The one where Vince forgets about the potty

Putting potty training on the back burner, Vince turns his energy to something more practical...

Some days I fear I will literally drown in urine and feces. And by some days I mean yesterday.

I haven’t talked about potty training in a while, mostly because things are going like clockwork. (Almost) everything is ending up in the potty where it should and not in anybody’s underwear.

From time to time, we get these minor incidents. Yesterday, we just had a series of major incidents. Just strung together, like pearls. I think if I imagine it to be a beautiful thing, it will be. Or, at least by imagining it as anything other than what it is, it softens the blow of awfulness.

“Mummy, I have to do a poo”, Vince announced rather loudly while I was in the middle of an empty post office, engaged in a transaction involving a parcel. All the staff politely ignored this statement, I paid and we went straight to a nearby gas station to use the potty.

It was here that I discovered the event that needed to take place in the potty had, in fact, already taken place. And so, in what apparently was the most revolting gas station bathroom ever, I cleaned poo out of underwear and slid a new pair on Vince’s little bottom. I don’t even know when I put a spare pair in my handbag, but thank god for them.

This event out of the way, we proceeded on to IKEA. Vince went potty 3 times in a time-span of about 15 minutes. I blame the Gatorade. I admit it is rather frustrating to start shopping 3 times and then have to quickly stop and rush to find a potty. And at IKEA there is one on each floor.And we were near neither. So each time, there was a wee bit of overflow. Nothing major, all part of the territory.

Since we weren’t planning on being there for long, I let it slide. I know, I know. Just don’t even say it. 10 minutes later, we were heading back to our side of town with a short trip to the grocery store planned. And after scoring a sweet parking spot, I swung around to unbuckle V and encountered the wettest wet pants ever. And then I swung back around into the drivers seat and headed home to sort that all out.

“Where do we go poo and pee?”, asked Mummy.

“In the POTTY!!!”, shouted Vince, in a jolly kind of manner.

“Do we go peepee in our underwear?”, asked Mummy.

“NOOOOO!! That’s for babies. I’m a big boy and I go pee and poo in the potty and get a lollipop”, Vince singsonged.

“Um, yes”, said Mummy, mentally planning to get more lollipops.

And so, after all of this peeing and pooing all over Orlando, finally it all came to an end. I feel like we have entered a period of regression this past week. Vince has been unusually whiny, there’s been extra fighting and crying. Tons of really, really fake crying actually. Way more than usual. And now all of this, and yesterday was not the first incidence this week.

It must mean something big is coming, some crazy big development Vince-wise. Perhaps he’s going to start doing fractions? Or suddenly draw perfect circles?

Can’t shake the feeling that I should be scared….

xoxo a.m.

Keeping secrets (not very well)

Viking bite their own toenails? Surely not!

Did you know that three-year-olds keep secrets?

I did not. They are three, after all. What could possibly be going on in their life that they wouldn’t tell you about? Or that you wouldn’t know? I’m not sure about you, but Vince tells me EVERYTHING, even things I maybe didn’t want to hear…

When he has to pee, how big his poop is, whom he played with both in and outside preschool. Did you know that Vince has inside and outside friends? Or so he told me… “Abby’s my inside friend, but I play with Gabriel outside”. Who the hell is Gabriel is what I want to know?? He’s been a hot topic of conversation for the last week and a half, only as an ‘outside friend’ though.

Anyways, my point is that every second of his life is an open book that he is reading out-loud non-stop.

So how did I miss that he bites his toenails?

His TOENAILS. He bites them. With his teeth.

And the reason I know this is last weekend, Vince came whining out of his room complaining of an owie on his toe. Since he had only been up for a short time, I asked him what happened thinking he had maybe stubbed his toe of something like that.

“I just was biting my toenails and then I got an owie”.

“Oh.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Because, frankly, that was not really the answer I was expecting. And I might have made a shocked face. Ok, I DID make a shocked face. And then a gross kind of face.

“Honey, did you bite your toes?”

“Mummy, I just bite them a little.”

“Don’t bite your toenails, its yucky.”

I don’t even know when this started. I mean, I do cut his nails. Honestly!

I guess he took matters into his own hands. It makes me wonder what other things are going on behind my back. And then it makes me worry just a little at where this could be leading…

What could be next? Nail biting? Late night 2% milk sessions in the kitchen? Unhitching the safety gate at the top of the stairs and sneaking down for some elicit Mickey Mouse marathons? Ack!

And this is just the pre-school bad behavior. Once he hits elementary, I bet he’ll go big time. Collecting bellybutton lint in little jars, hoarding his fingernail clippings, shaving all his body hair and bagging it up… (this is what I equate toenail biting with).

Ugh. Am I blowing this out of proportion? Naw… I can tell you this though, I will be monitoring those nails like they’re a juvenile delinquent posse. For Reals. (And I will also stop saying ‘for reals’ right now. For reals reals.)

xoxo and sweet toenail biting dreams…

a.m.

Leu Gardens and a sack of potatoes

Early this morning, I roused the ‘troop’ while Daddy slept on and attempted to sneak out of the house. In retrospect, I probably should have been completely ready to go before I got Vince up.

Instead I brushed my teeth and slapped on some make-up while Vincent whispered things like this “MUMMY, YOU BRUSHING YOUR TEETH??” “MUMMY, CAN YOU PUT MY UNDERWEAR ON?”

“Honey, shhhh, use your quiet voice. Daddy’s sleeping”

“OK MUMMY!! I”M BEING VERY QUIET!”

Surprisingly Daddy did not move during all of this, but I’m pretty sure he was faking it.

V and I dashed out to Dunkin Donuts to grab some muffins and coffee. And some chocolate milk. You know, because it’s Sunday and why not start the day on the proper kind of note. I still cannot get over the fact that there is a milk product out there called ‘TruMoo’ and that I bought it. (In my defense, Vince picked it out and it was the only milk product they sold) Seriously. TruMoo??!  America please. You are doing it to yourself. Just stop it already.

Anyways, my very nice in-laws came over and we headed to Leu Gardens nice and early. Today was promising to be rather hot and so the earlier the better.

What a beautiful walk. What gorgeous grounds… Huge Oak trees dripping with Spanish moss everywhere, green everywhere. Really sharp, crisp and slightly damp green. Meandering pathways leading who knows where. I think we managed about 1/2 of the grounds before V started demanding “Mummy pick me! Pick me Mummy!” and carrying a 40 lb sack of potatoes when hot and humid sucks.

Best part of the morning? One of the groundskeepers called Vince ‘Sir’ and invited him to come over and see her release some newly ‘hatched’ butterflies from a small containment area. (Do they hatch? That feels wrong when I type it) She very carefully explained about how they needed to pump blood into their wings before they were ready to fly and then she unlatched the butterfly house. About 5 beautiful monarchs swept out and fluttered past us. It was quite an exit. For a moment, I felt like I was somewhere else entirely…

I highly recommend hitting the gardens for a jaunt with the family. And it is in close proximity to a variety of nice places for lunch afterwards. Hit up their website for a list of upcoming events including Date Night (once a month) and a fun, spooky Halloween event scheduled for October 28… For Mums with a bit more free-time, there is Storytime too.

Mmmhmmm, I am loving me some gardens…. Go love them too!

xoxo a.m.

Garden date with the Toddler

“I am not steak! You can’t just order me!”, Melanie Griffin shouted at one of the Baldwin brothers.

Yes, it’s Saturday night, Edward is working and I am watching Working Girl on Netflix because I clearly have impeccable taste in movies. I should add that I started watching it last weekend and am finishing it as we speak.

It’s ok, this much awesome is hard for anyone to handle…

So I cut all my hair off, went to V’s soccer game (it was a 50/50 game day for him), took him to the library, bought new plants, rearranged my garden, contemplated baking cookies but elected instead to put Vince to bed early. Much better plan.

Tomorrow I am going to head to Leu Gardens with the Little Man. For you locals, did you know that the Gardens are celebrating it’s 50th birthday and are offering free admission on your birthday for the rest of the year? I kinda wish I had known about this in July. When it was my birthday.

Even if it isn’t your birthday, it’s still only $7 for adults and $2 for children (through to grades 12). Not too shabby and, lets face it, a lovely way to spend time in Orlando… I haven’t been since Edward and I were scouting wedding locations in 2004, post-hurricane. I’m rather excited.

And I’m taking the camera. Good times! Check out the gardens here and as the weather cools down, hit them up! A great place to take the toddler for a chilled out stroll…

 

xoxo a.m.

 

Sometimes pregnancy sucks

Feeling like a bit of a slacker in the writing department over here and I am  completely blaming pregnancy on it. Pregnancy is a bitch.

This was an extremely planned baby. I had a time frame that I was looking for, conception-wise, in order to maximize my extremely crappy maternity leave and Edward’s summer vacation. Ideally, baby #2 would not enter daycare until they were 6 months old. Good plan, eh?

I factored in roughly how long it took me to get pregnant with Vince and we proceeded accordingly. Now the funny thing about hoping to be pregnant, is that once you are you start to wonder things  like ‘Wait. What was I thinking again?’ But that could be the hormones talking…

It’s something you want, want, want, want, want. And then suddenly, when you get it, and you start feeling like total toilet bowl… Well, it’s not that you regret it, more like you think ‘Oh good lord, what did I get myself into!’.

This second pregnancy is a total bitch. One that comes to work with a bad attitude and perfume that gives you a headache.

I’ve had a lot of headaches. And a lot of nausea. A LOT. More than I thought possible. I’ve been popping the (pregnancy sanctioned) pain-pills like they are going out of style. Which they better not be, since I’m getting low and need more soon.

Essentially that is what’s been going on down here in Orlando. Me, wallowing in misery, thinking things like “God, it’s probably a girl. And she’s sucking me dry.”

Oh, and Vince has been playing soccer. The last few practices were disastrous and the first game was AWFUL. Somehow though, things came around this past Saturday. He was bribed within an inch of his life by everyone (Mummy, Daddy, Coach) and it seemed to have no effect.

But something awesome happened out on the field. He got it. He just got it. And suddenly he was running. And kicking. And facing the wrong direction and running. But he wasn’t holding on to his coaches hand, or being carried around the field on someone’s hip. Or crying. Or screaming for me. Or climbing trees to get away from the field. Or many other things like that. That were all awful.

He was playing soccer and man was he having fun! And afterwards, during snacktime, he got a little trophy for being ‘The most improved player’. He was so proud. He kept asking me the rest of the day “Mummy, I kicked the ball. Are you so proud of me?”

Not only that, but he actually asked to go and have his hair cut. How ridiculous is that!

So here we are, post-soccer win and 16 1/2 weeks pregnant. Slightly less headachey, feeling a little round. And apparently today, a little less tolerant of bullshit than I thought. But don’t worry! I won’t tell you! My lack of filter is never a good thing, but even worse when I am pregnant, hormonal and annoyed.

I’ll keep you posted… 😉

xoxo a.m.