Little Help Here

I truly thought that when I decided to begin potty training the boys that they'd learn at the same time.

I had another thought coming. 

Once I decided it was time, I did lots of reading. 

The most useful of all of the information that I read was written by fellow blogger Shannon at Stickers & Glitter about The Potty Watch. 

After reading her post I literally ran to my computer and ordered two! 

Once they arrived I explained to the boys how the watches worked and told them that we'd start going in the potty tomorrow. I got them all excited about the idea and we prepped for it all day and into the evening. 

After they got up, I had them each pee in the potty and then put on real underwear and pants and we strapped on the watches. 

David was totally into it and when the watch played the music and the lights blinked he yell, "Potty time!" and run into the bathroom. 

Daniel would run behind the sofa. 

The initial reward was a sticker but that was only good for a couple of days before they both lost interest in the stickers and, quite frankly, I got tired of scraping them off the floor, windows, furniture, cabinets...you get the picture.

I finally decided that pee would be rewarded with two jelly beans but a poop would earn the Holy Grail: Chocolate. 

This was no incentive for Daniel at all. In fact Daniel was totally non-plussed about the whole thing.  

Meanwhile, David was so into it that he figured out that he could squeeze out one turd at a time and get a piece of chocolate for each one! Clever little bugger! 

By day four David was out of diapers completely even at night. 

In fact, the night I decided to put him to bed without a diaper was after I found him crying in the hallway because he couldn't figure out how to put his diaper back on after going to the bathroom. 

That day we made a trip to the store for nightlights. 

I even had him practice getting up and going to the potty with only the nightlight on so it wouldn't be totally foreign territory for him. 

Daniel was showing no improvement...at all. 

I stuck with it. Everything I read said that you train for a week and if there is no progress you stop and try again in a couple of weeks. 

After Daniel ran behind the sofa for the seventh day in a row I gave up and put him back in a diaper and continued to reward David. 

By the end of the week David was trained...completely. 

He was telling everyone that he, "was a big boy because he poops in the potty but Daniel was still wearing a baby diaper." 

REALLY?! 

Where the heck did that come from?! 

We've tried again and again with Daniel with no success. 

Before Christmas I asked Daniel if he knew what mommy wanted 'the most of all' for Christmas. He replied with, "What?" I said, "Mommy really wants you to poop in the potty." He gave me the most pathetic, 'You're really not going to like this answer' look followed by, "No." Then reached up and put his arm around my neck, leaned in and said, "How about a necklace?"

I laughed so hard that I almost wet his bed!

We tried again a couple of weeks ago...spent the weekend cleaning urine off the floor - Allow me to recommend hardwood floors people - It's worth the extra money in the long run! 

I've all but given up. 

However, On three different occasions I have discovered him coming out of the bathroom with his diaper undone and when asked he says that he went pee-pee in the potty. 

There is hope. 

The last time was a couple of days ago when I walked into my bathroom to find him in front of my potty, pants down to his knees, diaper open on one side. 

He looked at me and said, "Little help here" and looked down at his diaper. 

Yes sweetie I will give you a little help! 

Now...can you please poop in the potty?!

STOP! Leave It On!

In the grand scheme of things having a child remove his diaper is not a horrible offense. It hasn't happened when they are poopie (yet) but of course there is still time.

One evening both boys needed new diapers and I was changing the Stuntman while the Engineer wandered around the first floor. He walked into the playroom held out his hand to his father and I and said, "poop."

AAAAAAACK!

OMG!

OMG!

OH! MY! GAWD!!!

Despite the fact that his pants were still on his hand was covered with the contents of his diaper, which was indeed poop.

Fortunately the kids are old enough now that we don't have to worry about them falling off the changing table. I left the Stuntman on the table, grabbed some wipes and cleaned his hand while hubby held it firmly away from anything that might require sanitizing.

It was weird though. Having poop contact my hand while changing a diaper never bothers me. This, however, sort of freaked me out.

Hubby was totally freaked out and headed toward panic.  

It's been nearly two years of non-stop diaper changing and while he no longer gags when changing diapers he still gets easily frazzled.

Well, he gets easily frazzled anyway. Throw some poop into the mix and he heads toward berserk!

Tonight I had a cake to finish and I asked him if he thought he could handle bathing the boys while I worked. I mean, why not right?

I do it.

While working away in the kitchen I could hear the most amazing level of commotion going on upstairs including the unmistakable sound of at least one small child racing around the second floor.

Hmmmm... they were supposed to be in the tub.

At least they are still laughing.

Before long I am summoned to the second floor.

We've hit frazzled.

Seems that while dad was trying to get the diaper on the Stuntman, the Engineer decided to climb into the rocking recliner in the bedroom and release the contents of his bladder and then announced, "Pee pee!"

I hear hubby, "Oh no you didn't, oh no, you did! Honey! I need you up here he just peed in the recliner! You need to bring up some towels."

"The towels are in the linen closet next to you." I replied, desperately trying to hide the fact that I was laughing.

I finished what I was doing and ascended the stairs to find hubby STILL trying to get the diaper on the Stuntman and the Engineer, now empty, is racing around his bedroom enjoying the freedom that comes with being diaperless.

I grabbed the towels out of the closet, the Clorox wipes, headed into the bedroom and closed the door so I could clean without anyone trying to "help."

The pandemonium that went on on the other side of the door had me laughing so hard I was nearly crying.

The four funniest words I think I've ever heard were exclaimed by my hubby as I heard him yell, "STOP! Leave it on!" followed by the unmistakable sound of the tab on a diaper being pulled open and the Engineer releasing what could only be described as a victory scream.

I doubled over and my eyes filled with tears as I desperately tried not to laugh out loud.

I walked out into the hallway where the now once again naked child is racing around, hubby has bypassed frazzled and barreled right into berserk! I take one look at him and do what any loving wife would do and burst out laughing!

We Have A Revolt!

The boys favorite place to be is outside. They love to run around in the grass and especially love to follow daddy around the yard "helping" him with different projects.

There are times that I just can't stop what I'm doing and run around the yard with them and, with the weather the way that it's been, I also don't want to be outside!

Hubby discovered a work around for this on rainy days or days when I am too busy to be able to drop what I am doing and go outside. We open the inside door to the garage (with the big door closed) and let them come and go as they wish. They love this and it keeps them occupied for long periods of time.

We've moved all of the dangerous gardening tools to the shed and put the other harmful stuff up where they cannot reach it, etc. Can't baby-proof 100% but we've moved the obvious stuff.

I told my mom that we let them play in the garage and she immediately replied, "Well, I hope you're not letting them play with the tools!"

Really???

I'm not sure if it was because I was exhausted or just tired of these types of "well-meaning" comments, I replied in a rather sarcastic, snippy manor, "You mean I should take the hacksaw away from them? We were going to let them practice trimming the hedges by lopping off their fingers with the pinking shears. Guess we should stop them..."

Yeah...this is what I deal with.

I love my mom to pieces but her constant diatribe of ridiculous comments can really get under my skin sometimes.

I have a home-based cake business and am often up until 2am working a cakes for delivery. There are plenty of days that I am exhausted but have to be up because of the boys. When the exhaustion factor has taken over my fuse gets very short. Not so much for the babies but more so for stupidity!

On those days in particular I avoid Walmart...Just no patience for that sect of society.

The boys are usually a source of amusement for me but some days they leave me at my whit's end...this would be one of those days...

They have figured out how to open the powder room door and usually do so yelling, "BOO!" at whomever is sitting on the potty. This initial introduction is then followed by the shouting of the word pee-pee more times that you can imagine any creature uttering a word. It was cute the first couple of times, now it's just annoying.

When I am not looking they like to open the door and play with the toilet brush - yuck! or remove the toilet paper and roll it around on the floor. I get absolutely nothing accomplished because my time is spent moving them from the door to a toy hoping to divert their attention. As of right now there is a five gallon bucket of spackle topped with a three gallon bucket of ceiling paint in front of the door to keep them out of the room.

Needless to say my productivity is non-existent today.

My eyesight has gotten worse over the years which is a good thing in a sense...it's heightened my hearing which is much needed since I can't see around corners without stopping whatever I am doing...Hence the reason I work until 2am.

I have come to know the sound of certain toys, the door to their bookcase, the cabinet they play in etc. It's the silence and the odd noises that get my attention. On of the noises that I'm sure I'll never tire of is that of my husband struggling to control the boys.

We usually bathe the boys every other night, unless they are really dirty from helping daddy in the gardens. The other night after bath time and after putting them into diapers I went back into the bathroom to drain the tub and rinse the ring of boy funk down the drain. As I was finishing up I heard, "Uh, no, no, NO!!! We have a revolt, we have a revolt!!!"

When I walked into the boys' room the Engineer was standing in the middle of the floor completely naked - diaper nowhere to be found - poking himself in the penis and giggling. Meanwhile hubby has the Stuntman in his lap - sort of - desperately trying to reattach the diaper that he had removed.

The Stuntman was across one of hubby's legs and doing the 'crocodile roll' trying to prevent the re-application of the diaper. He was moving so fast that he appeared to have grown another set of arms and legs.

Hubby looked like he was trying to put a diaper on a spinning octopus.

Both were making lots of noise but neither was coherent because they were laughing so hard.

Evidently the boys had worked together to remove their diapers.

The Engineer slowly pealed the tabs back on his diaper, across the room from daddy, who could not get there in time to prevent said removal and just as the Engineer was successful hubby turned to see Stuntman remove his diaper "Chippendale" style and fling it across the room - Please God do not let this be a premonition of future employment!

This, no doubt, will not be the last time they successfully remove their diapers and fling them across the room...I just pray that the next time they will be as clean as they were this time.

Just

There is no "just" when you have kids.

Before children, which has only been 14 months, if we wanted to go out for dinner all we had to do was grab our coats and head out the door. Every aspect of our lives has changed since we had kids. Not only can we not "just go out for dinner" but we can no longer "just run to the store," "just take a nap," or even "just run upstairs for a quickie!"

I have learned to tolerate soggy cereal and I have even stopped eating oatmeal for breakfast as I can't stand it when it's cold!

I was relatively prepared for the change in lifestyle, and since having children was such a long endeavor, I welcomed the changes...I thought.

I would no longer be jetting around the country for work or spend my evenings line dancing.

I was going to be a mother and had every misconception about that experience running through my head that you can imagine. My days would be full of fun times with happy-go-lucky children, who were brilliant and charming...I thought.

That still may come; for now however, my days are filled with dirty diapers, barf, drool and whining.

A. Noise. I. Despise!

I can't stand whining when it comes from any kid, and maybe because it's coming from mine, I really hate it. I mean really, it's sooooo annoying. I called my bestie the other day to ask if I should feel guilty for wanting to lock my kids in the house and go for a long drive because the stuntman was driving me crazy.

No one in their right mind romanticizes the idea of snuggling with a whiner! So I was largely unprepared to deal with a child who does. Hence the desire to take a long slow drive around the block...alone!

If you say that you've never been irritated by your child I'm just going to call BS now!

Don't get me wrong here. I love my boys. They are beautiful, adorable and extremely cute. Most of the time they are really happy and I love spending time with them and learning to see the world all over again through their eyes. However, they can also drive me nuts.

The whining is enough to put me over the edge.

Teething has truly sucked beyond words but they won't be teething forever. However, I'm a little nervous however, that they will whine forever.

The stuntman's primary form of communication seems to come in the form of whining. He does it when he has something that he wants me to open, he does it when his brother refuses to let him steal the toy he was playing with and he does it when something is wrong.

The volume seems to be the only way to tell the severity of his need.

He's sort of a sky is falling type of kid. He whines all the time so it's pretty hard to know when there is something serious.

The good news is that he has learned the word "ball." Well, we think it's ball. Bottle, bear and ball all come out as "bah." You have to look at what he's pointing at to decipher his intention.

Last night for about two straight hours he walked around the first floor of the house saying, "bah." As irritating as it might have been, he wasn't whining!!!

Thank God for small favors!

Lately, the boys have been into sharing their food with us. They fight over toys but are more than willing to give daddy or me a bite of their grilled cheese, PB&J sandwiches, crackers, etc.

This morning, while I was cutting up their oranges, the engineer had finished is banana and Cheerios. By happenstance their highchairs were close enough that they could reach each others hands. I looked up from the cutting board just in time to see the stuntman reach out with a handful of banana and Cheerios to the engineer who took it and put it in his mouth.

They were sharing with each other!!!

Not only was this ADORABLE but for children who often whine and hit each other over the head with toys when they don't want to share, this was nothing less than amazing.

Think I'll just go say a prayer of thanks.

Did you really just say that?!

Ok, so, let me ask the other moms out there... Does your mother give you idiotic advice or ask you ridiculous questions?

After walking through the Farmers' Market, on our way to lunch, I realized that I had forgotten to pack the boys' Cheerios. Cheerios have become a staple in our house. Sam's club sells two large boxes for $5.28. We are completely stocked up! Anyway...I paused and said that I didn't have the container of Cheerios for the boys but I would ask for oyster crackers or saltines to hold them over until we got back to the house. Her reply was, "You'll have to break them up!" REALLY?!?! I hadn't thought of that. I was just going to let nine-month-old boys stuff as many crackers into their mouths as possible and see what happened. Maybe I'd finally get to use my Red Cross training!

I questioned her need to constantly state the obvious or give me advice that implies that I am a complete and utter moron. She said that all mother's do that. Um...No. Sorry mom, but you are the only mom I have ever heard say things like this.

She has never outgrown the need to make sure I am safe and now her over-protective nature is over-flowing onto my kids. I appreciate the concern but seriously, take a breath and think before engaging mouth.

And everyone wonders where I get it!

In the middle of the summer when the heat was nearing 100 degrees after telling her that I let the car run to cool it off before putting the kids in it, I was lectured about not leaving the kids in the car alone...You mean like you used to? The trailer-hitch incident is legendary in our family!

Mom and I talk every day. This affords her ample opportunities to ask me ridiculous crap. Driving down the road on the way to the store in the middle of the day on the phone with mom, "Are the kids with you?" she asks. "No," I replied. "They were sleeping so I left them at home. Of course they're with me! Where do you think they would be?!"

She is one of the smartest women I know. She is an award winning writer, was an editor, has a vocabulary that puts Webster to shame and all with only a high school degree and a few college credits. Yet, she sometimes lacks ALL common sense. Years ago while waiting for my sister to come through the customs' doors after an international flight, my mom tapped me on the leg and said, "Here, take this and shoot them when they come thru the doors." As people began to dive to the floor I ripped the camera from her hand held it above my head and shouted, "Camera! It's just a camera people!" Thank God this was before the Patriot Act!

While in a parking lot waiting for the torrential downpour to end so she could run into the store, she told me she had to have her windshield wipers on fast forward - As opposed to reverse?

Today, after a really wonderful barbecue at her house she was trying to get me to take the leftover apple pie home. I told her that both hubby and I were trying to lose weight. She said that I looked fine and didn't need to lose any weight. I replied that my clothes were still too tight. She said that was because my clothes were too small. Um...yeah...that would be the weight loss part.

There seems to be something about being a mother that makes her brain take a vacation and I seem to be headed in the same direction.

Some people call it Mommy Brain. I've heard it referred to as Mom-nesia. Either way it can be defined as the sensation of losing the ability to think rationally combined with memory loss.

For example, I've been a sailor my whole life. Thanks to my dad, I know all the parts of a sailboat intimately. I started sailing lessons when I was about eight years old and for as long as I can remember, spent every summer racing with dad. Some boats were small; some were large but those summers are the bulk of the best memories of my life.

Recently I offered to make a birthday cake for my friend's son who will be turning 4. He wants a Jake and the Neverland Pirates cake. I did a little research and found a picture of the pirate ship and thought it would be really cool to make it out of cake. I pulled up the picture to show it to my hubby and explained that I thought the toughest part would be the...the...the point. My hubby, a die-hard sailor,  looked at me totally aghast and said, "Do you mean the bow?" Yeah! That's it, the bow!!! Oh! My! GAWD!!! My father must be spinning in his grave! Never once before in my life have I referred to the bow of a boat as the "pointy end."

Until now.

It's official I have mom-nesia. I forget what I am saying in the middle of sentences. It takes me at least three tries to do just about anything and I am already calling the kids by the wrong names!

I am doomed!

I pick on my mom but the truth is that when the chips are down or if I need some advice she is the first person I call. I call her for Hollywood trivia. She knows actors and actresses like the back of her hand and could even tell me the name of the woman who played Hot Lips Houlihan in the movie M*A*S*H*.

I once called her from my office, first thing in the morning, to ask her what ennui meant. Not only did she know the word but she gave us the definition and used it in a sentence! This was impressive not just because she knew the word but because I couldn't even pronounce it and had to spell it for her. More importantly she had been sound asleep until my call had woken her up at 8:30 in the morning! Mom doesn't get up before the crack of 10!

She is a unbelievable writer. I dabble, she is a pro! I'm completely serious. If I were to compare the two of us I would be so intimidated that I would never publish a word. She has a blog too but doesn't write enough to satisfy any of us! Feel free to visit her site and let her know she needs to write more: Widowhood For Dummies

She is a Wonder Woman. She possesses and amazing knowledge of the English language, can plan an event, run any social function imaginable and is an authority on just about everything. She knows more about obscure medical stuff than most of the medical community and watches surgical shows for entertainment.

She knows the melody and lyrics to every children's nursery rhyme ever written and makes a point of singing the most annoying ear worms to the kids in my presence because she knows they drive me crazy! Skinamarinky dinky dink anyone?

Just don't ask her anything that involves geography. Her lack of knowledge is painful. She once asked me where Indianapolis was.

She possesses an air of authority that commands respect. Unless of course you are her daughter and are constantly bombarded with ridiculous advice like, "Don't leave the babies in the car" on a 100 degree day. I'm not saying I'm perfect, I'm just not that stupid.

If she were an American Indian her name would be, "She Who Must Not Be Denied." If she tells you to do something you'd better move! Doesn't matter if you are her child or not.

An order is an order.

You don't ever want to piss her off or threaten her children or grandchildren. She is the ultimate momma bear and when backed into a corner can come out so ferociously that you will be both begging for your life and apologizing in alternating breaths.

She has just about the worst diet of anyone that I know. She can live on leftover birthday cake for a week interspersed with Lean Cuisine frozen dinners and Pot Stickers with room temperature Sprite Zero to wash it all down.

And salad gives her heartburn.

She is the person we all go to when we need help and it doesn't matter what the problem is. A friend went to her because they were going to be cutting off her husband's government benefits. Mom took on the cause like it was hers and didn't give up until she got a Senator on the phone and got him to commit to helping her friends - which he did. 

I remember being so mad at her when I was a teenager and wondered if I would ever be able to be friends with her. I may tease her but we are more than friends now, we are buddies. My day is not complete unless we talk...at least once. 

Usually at dinnertime...the woman has a knack for calling whenever we are eating!

The Blow-Out System

The list of things that gross me out is getting pretty long. I didn't used to be the type of person that one would consider squeamish (well unless you consider my arachnophobia but that's a fear not a gross-out factor) that was before I stepped in cold baby puke on my way to bed. Hubby asked why I didn't step in it while it was warm? Funny guy.

When the boys are in their highchairs snacking on Cheerios they tend to drop a considerable amount of them into the chair alongside their thighs and near their adorable little behinds. We usually reach down, scoop them up and put them back on their trays. This is an every day, sometimes multiple times a day, occurrence. So much so in fact that I no longer do the full-body flinch when coming in contact with wet, mushy Cheerios. Its just part of the experience.

Imagine my surprise the other night when I reached into the highchair to do the usual Cheerio harvest and came up with a handful of poop! Yup, baby poop! Not the brownish-yellow poop that one usually envisions when the words baby and poop are uttered in the same sentence; this was spinach week. The poo was exceptionally dark and well, leafy.

I screamed.

Hubby ran in from the other room to see what was going on only to discover me standing in the middle of the kitchen with my left hand covered in poop (oh and I was overdue to cut my nails - I'll let you draw that picture) telling him to get the paper towels to put down on the changing table.

We have come up with a "system" for dealing with blowouts, which for one of my boys seems to be a way of life. One of us grabs the paper towels and lays them out on the changing table. The other, carrying the baby, as my grandmother would say, "Like they were carrying a dead cat," brings the child in and puts him down on the towels and commences to change the diaper and clothing. While that is being done the first parent - usually the hubby - returns to the scene of the crime to deal with the clean up.

Minor blowouts are dealt with Clorox Clean-Ups. Major blowouts require the use of the garden hose which, I believe, we have resorted to at least five times now. If the hose is necessary, once the chunks are removed the highchair cover - which by the way is made of the most incredible material known to man - is taken to the washing machine where it is then washed on the "sanitize" cycle.

Once the diaper has been removed and all traces of poop have been scraped off the tushy, the diaper, wipes and paper towels go directly into the trashcan. This keeps us - and when I say us I mean me see Wash, Dry, Fold, Repeat - from having to wash the changing pad cover every time there is a blow-out.

My hubby thinks I take pity on him when I choose to change the diapers but really I am taking pity on the babies. Hubby is wonderful and jumps in to help out on nearly everything but I am a better diaper changer in these scenarios so it is less stressful for the kids and, as much as I am humored by the sound, it keeps him from gagging!

He has come close the throwing up about three times, which in the span of nine months is not that much but I have never gagged. I guess that's because when I know there is a poopie diaper I expect it to be um...poopie.

There is nothing about poop that is attractive to look at.

I can't even begin to tell you the number of times that I have heard, "Oh! My! God!" when he is changing a diaper. Initially the OMG! was followed by the very distinct sound of gagging. He’s gotten better with the gagging but is still surprised on a regular basis.

I just can't fathom the shock.

Seriously...You couldn't smell that?