Little Man has apparently decided to take a breather from popping new teeth. Poor kid gets constipated whenever he teeths. This past week he's been anything but. Talk about a cleansing. I haven't used diaper cream on him in the longest time and now I am getting ready to buy stock in the maker of Triple Paste.
I've been lucky since day one with this kid. He was never one to spit up and his blow outs were rare if not ill-timed. Husband is away on a business trip. You go like mad the night before to make sure everything is ready to go but you still end up running late. You are just about to walk out the door when the child decides to have a blow-out, ruining either your freshly washed sheets or worse - your only ironed outfit.
We get back from the park today. I am cooking dinner and realize its probably been a tad too long since Little Man's last diaper change so I ask my husband if he would be so kind. It doesn't take long before I get the "Oh, oh, I need help. A little help here!" Yup, we have a blow-out and with Little Man's squirming it will definitely take 4 hands to keep it from turning into abstract art all over the rug. The kicker? He's wearing a onesie that says: Red Sox shirt. Yankees diaper.
"Figures. They can't handle shit".
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A Mother's Milestone
We have a babysitter. We have a baby sitter. We have a babysitter.
Yes, I am singing and dancing right now. This is a major milestone that only took me 17 months to attain. How so soon you ask? My sweet, wonderful, loving husband bribed me. With Red Sox tickets. He's a Yankees fan so the man is either:
a. desparate for a date night
b. truly, madly, deeply in love with me
c. all of the above.
I'm going to go with the #1 Test Taking strategy and choose C.
This wonderful young lady came by the house tonight to hang with the little guy so he'd have a chance to get comfortable with her and I would have a chance to get some cleaning done. He interacted with her from the get-go. Granted the first 10-15 minutes he played with her while sitting in my lap but he was playing with her.
Thankfully his stomach got the best of him soon after so I was able to set the bribe into motion. Feed this kid and he loves you forever. After dinner he played with her and didn't bat an eye when I walked upstairs. Never walked to the stairs calling "BAH. BAH. BAH". Yes, I am now BAH. If someone can figure that one out, please clue me in.
Any how, it went great. The kid didn't miss me. He may actually let me walk out of the house without too much of a meltdown come game night. I am a proponent of the whole don't sneak out on your kid thing. So um, does waiting until he's eating and waving good-bye to the back of his head count?? I like this girl. I want her to continue to babysit for us. There's a new Transformers moving coming out soon. I won't tell you what the last movie I saw in the theater was. It depresses me when I think about it.
So I won't. I have a babysitter. I have a babysitter. I have a babysitter.
I'm so happy I could kiss a Republican...
Yes, I am singing and dancing right now. This is a major milestone that only took me 17 months to attain. How so soon you ask? My sweet, wonderful, loving husband bribed me. With Red Sox tickets. He's a Yankees fan so the man is either:
a. desparate for a date night
b. truly, madly, deeply in love with me
c. all of the above.
I'm going to go with the #1 Test Taking strategy and choose C.
This wonderful young lady came by the house tonight to hang with the little guy so he'd have a chance to get comfortable with her and I would have a chance to get some cleaning done. He interacted with her from the get-go. Granted the first 10-15 minutes he played with her while sitting in my lap but he was playing with her.
Thankfully his stomach got the best of him soon after so I was able to set the bribe into motion. Feed this kid and he loves you forever. After dinner he played with her and didn't bat an eye when I walked upstairs. Never walked to the stairs calling "BAH. BAH. BAH". Yes, I am now BAH. If someone can figure that one out, please clue me in.
Any how, it went great. The kid didn't miss me. He may actually let me walk out of the house without too much of a meltdown come game night. I am a proponent of the whole don't sneak out on your kid thing. So um, does waiting until he's eating and waving good-bye to the back of his head count?? I like this girl. I want her to continue to babysit for us. There's a new Transformers moving coming out soon. I won't tell you what the last movie I saw in the theater was. It depresses me when I think about it.
So I won't. I have a babysitter. I have a babysitter. I have a babysitter.
I'm so happy I could kiss a Republican...
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Mom is a genius
We arrived home this afternoon and did the usual: grab my stuff; grab Little Man; head into house to dump my stuff and listen to Little Man throw a tantrum because we aren't outside. I start to wonder if his memory just isn't that developed yet (we go outside every day after I put my stuff in the house) or if he associates tantrums with being allowed to go outside.
I refill my water bottle, check for keys and out we go. Since I didn't get to the polls this morning, we walk down the street to the polling station so I can vote and walk back. I planned on continuing our outdoor exploration when the skies started to blacken and the thunder rolled (for the 50th time today). National Weather Service lied again. The storm watch was supposed to end 30 minutes prior. So I snatch up the little guy and in the house we go.
Full blown tantrum. Arching back, flailing arms and legs, full throttle scream. Oh yippee. Try explaining to a non-verbal toddler that a thunder and lightening storm is not the time to be outside.
"I'm sorry sweetie but it is about to start lightening outside. That means we run the risk of being electrocuted. Electrocuted means electricy coursing through your body causing lots of pain and making your hairs stand on end".
"I understand completely mama. I'm sorry. We'll play quietly inside for the rest of the night".
Yeah, even the Twilight Zone couldn't conjure that one.
Distraction works for approximately 10 seconds and then he is back at the front door throwing a fit. I am running out of things to distract him with. My nerves are starting to fry and my head is starting its own rumbling when I am struck by an idea that is sheer genius. I am almost tempted not to write it down. I need to trademark this idea. The money I could make off this. Its incredible. Amazing. Awe inspiring.
Prior to the full-blown storm bearing down on us (read - no lightening yet), I pick up said flailing, arching child and take him outside. The wind gusts alone are enough to terrify him so we don't make it off the covered porch into the pouring rain.
Problem solved. He now understands why he can't play outside. He scampers off to continue his destruction of the living room.
60 seconds later he is back at the front door, arching his back, flailing his limbs and screaming full-throttle.
I refill my water bottle, check for keys and out we go. Since I didn't get to the polls this morning, we walk down the street to the polling station so I can vote and walk back. I planned on continuing our outdoor exploration when the skies started to blacken and the thunder rolled (for the 50th time today). National Weather Service lied again. The storm watch was supposed to end 30 minutes prior. So I snatch up the little guy and in the house we go.
Full blown tantrum. Arching back, flailing arms and legs, full throttle scream. Oh yippee. Try explaining to a non-verbal toddler that a thunder and lightening storm is not the time to be outside.
"I'm sorry sweetie but it is about to start lightening outside. That means we run the risk of being electrocuted. Electrocuted means electricy coursing through your body causing lots of pain and making your hairs stand on end".
"I understand completely mama. I'm sorry. We'll play quietly inside for the rest of the night".
Yeah, even the Twilight Zone couldn't conjure that one.
Distraction works for approximately 10 seconds and then he is back at the front door throwing a fit. I am running out of things to distract him with. My nerves are starting to fry and my head is starting its own rumbling when I am struck by an idea that is sheer genius. I am almost tempted not to write it down. I need to trademark this idea. The money I could make off this. Its incredible. Amazing. Awe inspiring.
Prior to the full-blown storm bearing down on us (read - no lightening yet), I pick up said flailing, arching child and take him outside. The wind gusts alone are enough to terrify him so we don't make it off the covered porch into the pouring rain.
Problem solved. He now understands why he can't play outside. He scampers off to continue his destruction of the living room.
60 seconds later he is back at the front door, arching his back, flailing his limbs and screaming full-throttle.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Pony?
A friend’s daughter has a pony courtesy of me. Another friend’s daughter is about to. You see, I told these girls if they did something specific, I would buy them a pony. And you thought toddlers didn’t listen. For someone who loathed my Little Pony when it appeared on the market, I am finding lots of use for them now.
My son now has a pony. The only problem is “my” and “little” do not appear in front of his pony. Actually, I am not even really sure it is a pony. I think it qualifies as a horse. I am contemplating putting a saddle on it. Maybe attach some rollerskates and my son can ride it.
I thought one of my girlfriends was paying me back. There is a small group of women out there who hold that right and don’t think for a second I would put anything past them. That’s why I love ‘em. They can take it and damn can they dish it. Luckily for them, they are all innocent. This time.
Turns out my husband started this one and my ILs finished it. Never underestimate a grandparent. The conversation went something like this:
Husband: “You know your grandfather loves you a lot. He would do anything for you. He’d even buy you a pony. Would you like a pony?”
Little Man: Nod nod nod!
Husband cracks up laughing and calls his parents. He proceeds to tell his father that Little Man would like a pony. Thankfully, we have speakerphone so they heard me when I said the pony was to stay at their house.
Apparently there is a little clause I was unfamiliar with. It is the Grandparent Prerogative Clause as in it is their prerogative to ignore my plea.
So Little Man is now the proud owner of a horse larger than he is and one that does a damn good job of making mama jump every time she catches a glimpse of it peeking around the corner. I am thinking of positioning it near the front windows and putting up a sign on the front lawn: Beware of Horse.
My son now has a pony. The only problem is “my” and “little” do not appear in front of his pony. Actually, I am not even really sure it is a pony. I think it qualifies as a horse. I am contemplating putting a saddle on it. Maybe attach some rollerskates and my son can ride it.
I thought one of my girlfriends was paying me back. There is a small group of women out there who hold that right and don’t think for a second I would put anything past them. That’s why I love ‘em. They can take it and damn can they dish it. Luckily for them, they are all innocent. This time.
Turns out my husband started this one and my ILs finished it. Never underestimate a grandparent. The conversation went something like this:
Husband: “You know your grandfather loves you a lot. He would do anything for you. He’d even buy you a pony. Would you like a pony?”
Little Man: Nod nod nod!
Husband cracks up laughing and calls his parents. He proceeds to tell his father that Little Man would like a pony. Thankfully, we have speakerphone so they heard me when I said the pony was to stay at their house.
Apparently there is a little clause I was unfamiliar with. It is the Grandparent Prerogative Clause as in it is their prerogative to ignore my plea.
So Little Man is now the proud owner of a horse larger than he is and one that does a damn good job of making mama jump every time she catches a glimpse of it peeking around the corner. I am thinking of positioning it near the front windows and putting up a sign on the front lawn: Beware of Horse.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Perspective
4 days away from my Little Man was painful. A phone call is not enough. I wanted to hug him, rock him and lay him to bed every night. Friday I managed to fight rush hour traffic and make it to the airport in record time but not record enough to catch an earlier flight. My scheduled flight will not have me home until midnight. That means I only get to look in on him, not actually hold him, hug him and kiss him.
I drag myself through the airport lamenting my misfortune when I realize a good portion of the travelers are men in uniform, mostly Army, one female. The vast majority are practically babies themselves, barely in their 20s. They are going. Not coming.
And I wonder, how many are leaving babies behind? How many are leaving pregnant wives behind? I was gone for 4 days. They will be gone for months. What right do I have to complain?
They have signed on the dotted line and by doing so, have agreed to give their life, if necessary, in defense of their country. They do this willingly. Our military is voluntary. They weren't drafted. They volunteered. Volunteered to dodge bullets, RPGs, and IEDs.
Their wives (and husbands) have volunteered to become single parents; to raise children alone; to convince the children that daddy (or mommy) is doing a very brave and wonderful thing but also trying to convince the children that daddy (or mommy) is not in any danger. While they themselves wake up every morning wondering if this is the day. They go to bed every night giving thanks that it wasn't.
My husband was a single parent for 4 days. I've done it for 2 weeks. Could either of us do it for 6, 12, 18 months? My husband and I are raising our son with no family close by but we have each other. How many wives (and husbands) are doing it alone with no family nearby?
Little Man woke me at 6:20 this morning with a huge smile and dancing feet. He draped himself over my shoulder, gave me a squeeze and then snuggled with me for at least 10 minutes. I kept hugging him and wouldn't let go. Because I could and not everyone can.
To those of you departing: be smart; be safe and come home in one piece. You'll have a lot of hugs to dole out upon your return.
I drag myself through the airport lamenting my misfortune when I realize a good portion of the travelers are men in uniform, mostly Army, one female. The vast majority are practically babies themselves, barely in their 20s. They are going. Not coming.
And I wonder, how many are leaving babies behind? How many are leaving pregnant wives behind? I was gone for 4 days. They will be gone for months. What right do I have to complain?
They have signed on the dotted line and by doing so, have agreed to give their life, if necessary, in defense of their country. They do this willingly. Our military is voluntary. They weren't drafted. They volunteered. Volunteered to dodge bullets, RPGs, and IEDs.
Their wives (and husbands) have volunteered to become single parents; to raise children alone; to convince the children that daddy (or mommy) is doing a very brave and wonderful thing but also trying to convince the children that daddy (or mommy) is not in any danger. While they themselves wake up every morning wondering if this is the day. They go to bed every night giving thanks that it wasn't.
My husband was a single parent for 4 days. I've done it for 2 weeks. Could either of us do it for 6, 12, 18 months? My husband and I are raising our son with no family close by but we have each other. How many wives (and husbands) are doing it alone with no family nearby?
Little Man woke me at 6:20 this morning with a huge smile and dancing feet. He draped himself over my shoulder, gave me a squeeze and then snuggled with me for at least 10 minutes. I kept hugging him and wouldn't let go. Because I could and not everyone can.
To those of you departing: be smart; be safe and come home in one piece. You'll have a lot of hugs to dole out upon your return.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Flying
I love to fly. I still get the same deep-in-your-stomach excitement whenever I go some place new just like I did when I was little. Takeoff brings a grin to my face. A window seat is a must. See the world from 33K feet is one of the coolest things. Cooler would be from space but I don’t think I could pass the physical.
The plane ride today was a special treat. There were clouds over Atlanta. Not wispy, wimpy clouds but full, fluffy, what kind of animals can you see clouds. I spent the last 20 minutes of the flight watching a dog morph into a baby morph into an old man. I saw a giant who was either yawning or screaming. The best? A mini shredded wheat guy with his hand on his back grimacing in pain. I will never look at those commercials the same way again.
I enjoyed my childish day dreams until the clouds cleared and Atlanta came into site. I watched cookie cutter neighborhoods roll by (big houses, big yards but no pools. What’s wrong with these people?). We approached a commercial area and what could have been an office park or shopping area. I was trying to decipher which when I realized the answer was right in front of me. On the roof of one building – yes, the roof – was a big ole BJs and a few roofs down – a big ole bull’s eye. BJs and Target have taken marketing to a whole new level. The Space Station doesn’t have a large enough potential clientele for them so I figure they are targeting the UFOs in the hopes that one will decide Atlanta is a great vacation spot and then spread the word. I wonder if they are angling to be the largest Target in the Milky Way. There is, after all, a Roswell, GA.
The plane ride today was a special treat. There were clouds over Atlanta. Not wispy, wimpy clouds but full, fluffy, what kind of animals can you see clouds. I spent the last 20 minutes of the flight watching a dog morph into a baby morph into an old man. I saw a giant who was either yawning or screaming. The best? A mini shredded wheat guy with his hand on his back grimacing in pain. I will never look at those commercials the same way again.
I enjoyed my childish day dreams until the clouds cleared and Atlanta came into site. I watched cookie cutter neighborhoods roll by (big houses, big yards but no pools. What’s wrong with these people?). We approached a commercial area and what could have been an office park or shopping area. I was trying to decipher which when I realized the answer was right in front of me. On the roof of one building – yes, the roof – was a big ole BJs and a few roofs down – a big ole bull’s eye. BJs and Target have taken marketing to a whole new level. The Space Station doesn’t have a large enough potential clientele for them so I figure they are targeting the UFOs in the hopes that one will decide Atlanta is a great vacation spot and then spread the word. I wonder if they are angling to be the largest Target in the Milky Way. There is, after all, a Roswell, GA.
Letting Go
Little Man started at his new daycare this week. I spent Sunday night organizing and making sure everything was ready to go. Diapers? Check. Wipes? Check. Change of clothes? Check. Paci? Check. Sheet & blanket? Check. Sunscreen? Check.
I stopped myself from packing up every possible comfort toy I could think of. New place, new faces – that’s very scary for a toddler. Hell it is scary for most adults.
5:30 AM: Alarm goes off. I hit snooze once.
6:00 AM: Dressed and ready to go. Walk in to wake up Little Man. I could have had Metallica do a live set in his room and he still wouldn’t have budged. I was just about to pick him up and dress him in his sleep when he sat up and greeted me with half-closed eyes and a big smile.
7:00 AM: Arrive at daycare. Anxiety is kicking in. He clings to daddy for a few minutes but then realizes there is a little boy playing with a ball and down he goes. In no time they are playing catch. A hug and kiss for daddy when he says goodbye. I hang out for a few more minutes to make sure he is ok but I need to leave if I want to be only a little late for work. I call to him to say goodbye. He ignores me. I call again. He glances quickly my way, misses the ball and runs after it giggling. I am an impediment to his fun. I call again and say good-bye. He waves; at the ball. Impediment.
I walk out slowly, listening. No cries. No wails. Less than 5 minutes at a new place and he already has a friend. The anxiety was all for naught even though I did fight the urge to call the center about 100 times to check on him.
When I picked him up he ran to me with a huge smile and a bigger hug and then it was back to the ball. He was happy. Happy to see me but also happy to play. He didn’t want to go home. He actually started to cry when we walked out the door.
One mommy milestone down; one to go. Now I have to spend the next 3 nights out of town. I feel the anxiety rising again…
I stopped myself from packing up every possible comfort toy I could think of. New place, new faces – that’s very scary for a toddler. Hell it is scary for most adults.
5:30 AM: Alarm goes off. I hit snooze once.
6:00 AM: Dressed and ready to go. Walk in to wake up Little Man. I could have had Metallica do a live set in his room and he still wouldn’t have budged. I was just about to pick him up and dress him in his sleep when he sat up and greeted me with half-closed eyes and a big smile.
7:00 AM: Arrive at daycare. Anxiety is kicking in. He clings to daddy for a few minutes but then realizes there is a little boy playing with a ball and down he goes. In no time they are playing catch. A hug and kiss for daddy when he says goodbye. I hang out for a few more minutes to make sure he is ok but I need to leave if I want to be only a little late for work. I call to him to say goodbye. He ignores me. I call again. He glances quickly my way, misses the ball and runs after it giggling. I am an impediment to his fun. I call again and say good-bye. He waves; at the ball. Impediment.
I walk out slowly, listening. No cries. No wails. Less than 5 minutes at a new place and he already has a friend. The anxiety was all for naught even though I did fight the urge to call the center about 100 times to check on him.
When I picked him up he ran to me with a huge smile and a bigger hug and then it was back to the ball. He was happy. Happy to see me but also happy to play. He didn’t want to go home. He actually started to cry when we walked out the door.
One mommy milestone down; one to go. Now I have to spend the next 3 nights out of town. I feel the anxiety rising again…
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