Okay, so not exactly MY poop. It was the little man's poop. But in an effort to pay homage to Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg, I stayed true to the phrasing.
We thought we were done. He'd finally mastered the art of using the toilet. Wiping, no, but that's a whole other siutation which I won't worry about right now. Nobody takes their mom to college with them because they can't wipe their own bum, right?
About a month ago, the little man went crazy. That is truly the only explanation I can come up with. A week before his fifth birthday, he got up from the living room floor, said "I'll be right back" and went into his room and closed the door. Now, a year ago this would have been cause for alarm as this would SURELY have meant he was in there dropping a trouser bomb, but we were past that. We were confident in his newfound skills and knew we were in a poop-free situation.
Or so we thought.
A few minutes later we heard the little man giggling and jumping up and down. Mr. Awesome went to his room to investigate what was happening, and I have never heard the tone that errupted from him seconds later. It was a mixture of anger, disgust, disbelief, shock...and then an eery calm, followed by silence.
Because what do you say when your almost five year old son takes off his pants, empties a cardboard box, crouches over the box and POOS? And then proceeds to check out the poo and wind up smearing it on the carpet and closet doors?
You say nothing. Because rage and despair have stolen your voice.
This incident was followed by another, where he made "a nest" of toilet paper on the floor in the bathroom and made a deposit, and several other times where he figured the best place to have a pee was in the corner of his bedroom.
Needless to say, all the Lego he'd been rewarded for his toilet achievements was promptly removed. I am happy (and relieved) to note that this phase has now passed and we are back to putting "things" where they should go, but it really shook my understanding of the child psyche. He got his Lego back and we're all good again...for now.
Parenthood. It gets you every time. Just when you think you've mastered one phase and finally moved on to greener pastures, your kid poos in a box.
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
I Won't Raise a Man Cold
When the little man was about six months old, we began our first experience with sleep training. He quickly learned to soothe himself and all was good.
Until he got a cold.
I have heard from a few moms, "Everything's fine until they get a cold." This was certainly true for us. We began a slow year-long decline into what eventually became a family nightmare. Hourly wake-ups, screaming, no sleep for us, fighting...it was awful. And then at the peak of it all we had house guests sleeping in the room next to his, so it got worse as we were jumping at every noise so as not to disturb them.
The day they left, when we was about 20 months old, we began our second round of sleep training. Three days in and we were good as new.
And then, as some of you will know, we had a terrible, awful, mind-numbing setback a couple of months ago. Things are actually somewhat manageable now, and with a few "new normals" such as his door having to be halfway open and his Ikea moon light having to be on all night, we're coping. The wake-ups are less frequent, the screaming is rare, and the fear and anxiety seem to have gone away.
So now he has a cold. And not just any cold. This is a green monster, complete with the worst cough I have ever heard in his four and a half years.
Kids love boundaries, they thrive on guidelines and rules. But give them an inch and they'll take a mile. They're always testing, checking to see if the boundaries still stand. Consistency is the key, and in the long run it's better for everyone.
But what do you do when your little man is hacking up his lungs, streaming out of several orifices, and generally feeling yucky?
You love him. You care for him. You help him blow his nose. You keep him home from preschool. You rub Vicks Vaporub on his chest and back at bedtime.
And you stick to the routine.
With the hell that we've just come through (and are still dealing with), we will not go back. The bedtime routine holds strong, with the occasional application of Vicks thrown in. The responses to his wake-ups are the same.
And it's working. The cold has not impacted the progress, and we're moving ahead. We could have coddled him and opted to sleep in his bed with him to comfort him through the night, but then we would be right back in the sleep-deprived nightmare that nearly drove me to a breakdown. That simply cannot happen.
Mr. Awesome, when he does occasionally get sick, is the exact OPPOSITE of a Man Cold. He will even say "I'm dot thick" in the stuffed up effort to prove he's just fine. He believes so strongly in mind over matter that when, on the rare occasion he actually admits to feeling rough, I'm convinced he's dying.
I look at the husbands of my friends and colleagues and listen to the stories of their whimpering and snuffling. They have Man Cold written all over them.
I believe that every parent has the right to raise their children how they see fit, as long as they are not endangering their health or safety. And I believe that what we're doing now is the best thing for our family and for the little man. He's powering through this bug and he's doing fine.
The world does not need another Man Cold.
Until he got a cold.
I have heard from a few moms, "Everything's fine until they get a cold." This was certainly true for us. We began a slow year-long decline into what eventually became a family nightmare. Hourly wake-ups, screaming, no sleep for us, fighting...it was awful. And then at the peak of it all we had house guests sleeping in the room next to his, so it got worse as we were jumping at every noise so as not to disturb them.
The day they left, when we was about 20 months old, we began our second round of sleep training. Three days in and we were good as new.
And then, as some of you will know, we had a terrible, awful, mind-numbing setback a couple of months ago. Things are actually somewhat manageable now, and with a few "new normals" such as his door having to be halfway open and his Ikea moon light having to be on all night, we're coping. The wake-ups are less frequent, the screaming is rare, and the fear and anxiety seem to have gone away.
So now he has a cold. And not just any cold. This is a green monster, complete with the worst cough I have ever heard in his four and a half years.
Kids love boundaries, they thrive on guidelines and rules. But give them an inch and they'll take a mile. They're always testing, checking to see if the boundaries still stand. Consistency is the key, and in the long run it's better for everyone.
But what do you do when your little man is hacking up his lungs, streaming out of several orifices, and generally feeling yucky?
You love him. You care for him. You help him blow his nose. You keep him home from preschool. You rub Vicks Vaporub on his chest and back at bedtime.
And you stick to the routine.
With the hell that we've just come through (and are still dealing with), we will not go back. The bedtime routine holds strong, with the occasional application of Vicks thrown in. The responses to his wake-ups are the same.
And it's working. The cold has not impacted the progress, and we're moving ahead. We could have coddled him and opted to sleep in his bed with him to comfort him through the night, but then we would be right back in the sleep-deprived nightmare that nearly drove me to a breakdown. That simply cannot happen.
Mr. Awesome, when he does occasionally get sick, is the exact OPPOSITE of a Man Cold. He will even say "I'm dot thick" in the stuffed up effort to prove he's just fine. He believes so strongly in mind over matter that when, on the rare occasion he actually admits to feeling rough, I'm convinced he's dying.I look at the husbands of my friends and colleagues and listen to the stories of their whimpering and snuffling. They have Man Cold written all over them.
I believe that every parent has the right to raise their children how they see fit, as long as they are not endangering their health or safety. And I believe that what we're doing now is the best thing for our family and for the little man. He's powering through this bug and he's doing fine.
The world does not need another Man Cold.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Giving Thanks for Poop: Potty Training Progress
It's Thanksgiving in Canada and I am thankful for all the blessings in my life. But most of all, today, I am thankful for poop.
As I type, the little man is in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.
That's right friends, we have achieved the impossible. The unimaginable. The dream of all potty-training-challenged parents everywhere. The little man is pooping on the potty.
After one year and nine months of pants bombs, trouser grenades, Code Browns and poop-splosions, we are now on day four of toilet poops.
If the past year and nine months has taught me anything, it's to not get my hopes up. I am taking this day by day and not assuming that the accidents are behind us forever, but holy mother of GOD does this feel good.
There have been a couple of steps forward and many steps back in the last month, but it started to finally feel like we were doing something right. We had a visit with the pediatrician a few months ago and explained the hell we were living (not in quite those words), and he "prescribed" a six month course of not talking about poop. Now, for anyone that's been reading this blog for a while now, you know that that's virtually impossible for me. And his advice wasn't to necessarily banish the topic, but to just not make it a big deal. If accidents happened, clean them up and move on. And we were to not spend any length of time discussing the situation, either with the little man, each other or anyone else.
While this did not magically end the messes, it did lift the stress right off. Our home became more relaxed and everyone involved got happier. Now, patience has never been one of my virtues, so it won't be a surprise to anyone that we didn't wait the FULL six months. But we followed the cues the little man gave us, and we started a whole new plan.
We were at Costco one day (imagine that) and found a set of interactive books called Ready to Read. Kind of like LeapFrog, this set comes with a "pen" that reads the coding on the pages and plays words, songs, stories, etc. Some of the books are more advanced, so those went up on the shelf. These became our potty books. They could only be read while sitting on the toilet. Pretty soon he wanted to sit on the toilet all the time, as he loved them so much. He wasn't actually trying to go, but it was a HUGE step forward from where we'd been.
At the same time we instituted a reward chart. Our initial challenge was that for months he had absolutely refused to sit on the toilet. He would lose his mind if we even suggested it, so at first the reward stickers were for sitting. For every five stickers he would get a (small) Lego set.
We very quickly realized we were going to go broke fast with the current system. Mr. Awesome is a bit of a Lego-fiend, so he wasn't terribly upset that we were amassing a large amount of the stuff, but the stickers became for actually trying. And over the past month or so, there have been a few successes. Sort of a "one step forward, two steps back" situation, but still progress where none had been.
Then, four days ago, just before bed, the little man said "I think I have to go poop." In he went, sat himself down, and started his reading. Then something changed. He got a look of concentration on his face that we hadn't seen before. And he did it. Because it was just before bed we all happened to be in the bathroom at the time, and man, did we celebrate. I was on the verge of hysteria, almost in tears, laughing and screaming for joy. Mr. Awesome kept saying things like "Dude, that's awesome!" and "Buddy, that's fantastic! I'm so proud of you!" And the little man loved every minute of it. He was laughing and loving our impromptu "potty party," so very proud of himself.
It was like a switch needed to be flicked and he finally "got it." I equate it with the moment I finally KNEW what I had to do to succeed with Weight Watchers. True and lasting success only comes when one is really ready for it. No one can make that happen for you. And just like a weight loss journey, there may be setbacks.
Like I said earlier, we're on day four. Four days of telling us he had to go, sitting on the toilet and actually going. And I'm good with that.
Happy Thanksgiving to all, and thanks be to poop.
As I type, the little man is in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.
That's right friends, we have achieved the impossible. The unimaginable. The dream of all potty-training-challenged parents everywhere. The little man is pooping on the potty.
After one year and nine months of pants bombs, trouser grenades, Code Browns and poop-splosions, we are now on day four of toilet poops.
If the past year and nine months has taught me anything, it's to not get my hopes up. I am taking this day by day and not assuming that the accidents are behind us forever, but holy mother of GOD does this feel good.
There have been a couple of steps forward and many steps back in the last month, but it started to finally feel like we were doing something right. We had a visit with the pediatrician a few months ago and explained the hell we were living (not in quite those words), and he "prescribed" a six month course of not talking about poop. Now, for anyone that's been reading this blog for a while now, you know that that's virtually impossible for me. And his advice wasn't to necessarily banish the topic, but to just not make it a big deal. If accidents happened, clean them up and move on. And we were to not spend any length of time discussing the situation, either with the little man, each other or anyone else.
While this did not magically end the messes, it did lift the stress right off. Our home became more relaxed and everyone involved got happier. Now, patience has never been one of my virtues, so it won't be a surprise to anyone that we didn't wait the FULL six months. But we followed the cues the little man gave us, and we started a whole new plan.
We were at Costco one day (imagine that) and found a set of interactive books called Ready to Read. Kind of like LeapFrog, this set comes with a "pen" that reads the coding on the pages and plays words, songs, stories, etc. Some of the books are more advanced, so those went up on the shelf. These became our potty books. They could only be read while sitting on the toilet. Pretty soon he wanted to sit on the toilet all the time, as he loved them so much. He wasn't actually trying to go, but it was a HUGE step forward from where we'd been.At the same time we instituted a reward chart. Our initial challenge was that for months he had absolutely refused to sit on the toilet. He would lose his mind if we even suggested it, so at first the reward stickers were for sitting. For every five stickers he would get a (small) Lego set.
We very quickly realized we were going to go broke fast with the current system. Mr. Awesome is a bit of a Lego-fiend, so he wasn't terribly upset that we were amassing a large amount of the stuff, but the stickers became for actually trying. And over the past month or so, there have been a few successes. Sort of a "one step forward, two steps back" situation, but still progress where none had been.
Then, four days ago, just before bed, the little man said "I think I have to go poop." In he went, sat himself down, and started his reading. Then something changed. He got a look of concentration on his face that we hadn't seen before. And he did it. Because it was just before bed we all happened to be in the bathroom at the time, and man, did we celebrate. I was on the verge of hysteria, almost in tears, laughing and screaming for joy. Mr. Awesome kept saying things like "Dude, that's awesome!" and "Buddy, that's fantastic! I'm so proud of you!" And the little man loved every minute of it. He was laughing and loving our impromptu "potty party," so very proud of himself.
It was like a switch needed to be flicked and he finally "got it." I equate it with the moment I finally KNEW what I had to do to succeed with Weight Watchers. True and lasting success only comes when one is really ready for it. No one can make that happen for you. And just like a weight loss journey, there may be setbacks.
Like I said earlier, we're on day four. Four days of telling us he had to go, sitting on the toilet and actually going. And I'm good with that.
Happy Thanksgiving to all, and thanks be to poop.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Time Out in Aisle Five! (Or How I'm Under House Arrest)
The whining is back. Not nearly to the degree it was here before, but it has definitely returned.
As I've mentioned before, Mr. Awesome and I can be hardass parents when needed. Never ones to shy away from a challenge, we bravely faced sleep training head on. Twice. (It took us a while to become the hard asses we are today.) Sleep training actually trained US for the times when we have to sit and listen to the little man scream at us for some atrocity we have done to him or some precious toy we have removed after it was lobbed at our heads.
Our sleep trainingloosely followed Dana Obleman's Sleep Sense program, and given the fact that is pretty much saved our marriage, I am a true believer. She sends out emails every now and then with tips and solutions, most of which haven't applied to us since the sleep problems ended, but once in a while one will come along that's proven very useful.
The other day an email arrived fromheaven Dana and it was entitled The One Weekend Whining Cure. Um, hello?! Invest ONE weekend and say goodbye to whining forever? I'M IN! Without going into all the details, the basic "One Weekend Whining Bootcamp" premise is that you give a time out every time the child whines. She says to explain the plan to your child, choose a consistent location, get an egg timer, and go for it. (Again, there is more to it that just this, but I don't want to violate any copyright laws. There's a scary warning on the first page.)
Now, we typically don't always follow every child-rearing rule to the letter. For example, we have yet to buy the egg timer. For the most part though, even the promise of a time out is now enough to get him to speak in a "big boy" voice. Yes, we have tothreaten promise this at least 20 times a day, but it does seem to be making a difference. With one rather GLARING hitch.
How the HELL do you give a time out when you're out of the house? The carpet at the end of our hallway doesn't exactly come with us to the grocery store, and I'm not about to sit my son down with an egg timer in the middle of frozen foods. So how do you make good on your promise that any whining results in a time out when you can't follow through?
I'm certainly not one to sit home all day every day, given the lack of decent daytime programming on television. When we were kids, parents didn't think twice about locking a misbehaving kid in the car if the situation called for it. Now, we would get Child Services on top of us before we even pressed "lock" on the car remote (not that I'm considering this tactic). Although strapping him into his car seat and walking away does seem tempting at times...I swear I would leave the window open. Please don't report me. I'M KIDDING.
How do you deal with difficult behaviour when you're out of the house? Do you just ignore it? Do you do time outs, no matter where you are? Do you promise a time out when you return home, even though a three year old's memory of the incident will have been wiped clean by the large excavator you saw on the drive back to your house?
I'm at a loss. I may have to stay home forever and start watching TLC marathons of "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" and "Say Yes to the Dress." That alone could be useful as punishment for whining. I may be on to something here... discipline by daytime TV.
As I've mentioned before, Mr. Awesome and I can be hardass parents when needed. Never ones to shy away from a challenge, we bravely faced sleep training head on. Twice. (It took us a while to become the hard asses we are today.) Sleep training actually trained US for the times when we have to sit and listen to the little man scream at us for some atrocity we have done to him or some precious toy we have removed after it was lobbed at our heads.
Our sleep training
The other day an email arrived from
Now, we typically don't always follow every child-rearing rule to the letter. For example, we have yet to buy the egg timer. For the most part though, even the promise of a time out is now enough to get him to speak in a "big boy" voice. Yes, we have to
How the HELL do you give a time out when you're out of the house? The carpet at the end of our hallway doesn't exactly come with us to the grocery store, and I'm not about to sit my son down with an egg timer in the middle of frozen foods. So how do you make good on your promise that any whining results in a time out when you can't follow through?
I'm certainly not one to sit home all day every day, given the lack of decent daytime programming on television. When we were kids, parents didn't think twice about locking a misbehaving kid in the car if the situation called for it. Now, we would get Child Services on top of us before we even pressed "lock" on the car remote (not that I'm considering this tactic). Although strapping him into his car seat and walking away does seem tempting at times...I swear I would leave the window open. Please don't report me. I'M KIDDING.
How do you deal with difficult behaviour when you're out of the house? Do you just ignore it? Do you do time outs, no matter where you are? Do you promise a time out when you return home, even though a three year old's memory of the incident will have been wiped clean by the large excavator you saw on the drive back to your house?
I'm at a loss. I may have to stay home forever and start watching TLC marathons of "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" and "Say Yes to the Dress." That alone could be useful as punishment for whining. I may be on to something here... discipline by daytime TV.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
I Don't Hate My Three Year Old
When I was little and I told my mum that I hated somebody, she told me that hate was a very strong word and didn't apply to how I was feeling. She told me that to hate someone meant that I "wanted to go to war with" that person.
Well, I am at war with my three year old. The little man and I are on the battlefield of the evil country of Preschoolistan. (Side note: I told Mr Awesome that I needed a good "country name" for this paragraph and without thinking he replied "Billy Jo Bob." He obviously misunderstood what I meant. I digress.)
So, I am at war with the little man. Like any war in history, the root of our conflict is a difference in beliefs. I believe that it is NOT okay to throw things when you are upset, he disagrees. I believe it is NOT okay to hit your sister on the head, he disagrees. I believe it is NOT okay to pee on the couch, he disagrees. I believe it is NOT okay to whine, he blatantly disagrees. We are at an impasse.
He fires a round of whining in my direction, I blast back with a time out. He lobs a book at the little miss's head, I answer with another time out. He throws his favourite toy "Leo" in anger, I rally with removing Leo for the whole day. He launches (thankfully not literally) a poop grenade into his underpants, I...well, let's face it. I clean it up. A poop grenade is not something that you can really punish. It's just something I live in fear of every day. It's my 1980's nuke and he holds control of the big red button. But poop really isn't part of this story. Okay, it factors into every story somewhere, but it's not the POINT.
We have made some headway. The whining is diminishing slowly. We've come to a point where he's starting to understand the time out concept and the consequences of his actions, but on a very short term basis. Consistency is all-important now and we are standing firm. Any sign of weakness on our part will send us retreating back over the bridge we fought so hard to cross. This results in a LOT of time outs each day. We try and keep the time between time outs positive and full of love, but after the 11th time out of the day it gets a little challenging. Bedtime can be a very welcome thing some days.
I don't hate him. I will never hate him. I love him unconditionally. But, by my mum's definition, do I want to go to war with him? Honey, I'm already there.
And there will be no surrender.
Well, I am at war with my three year old. The little man and I are on the battlefield of the evil country of Preschoolistan. (Side note: I told Mr Awesome that I needed a good "country name" for this paragraph and without thinking he replied "Billy Jo Bob." He obviously misunderstood what I meant. I digress.)
So, I am at war with the little man. Like any war in history, the root of our conflict is a difference in beliefs. I believe that it is NOT okay to throw things when you are upset, he disagrees. I believe it is NOT okay to hit your sister on the head, he disagrees. I believe it is NOT okay to pee on the couch, he disagrees. I believe it is NOT okay to whine, he blatantly disagrees. We are at an impasse.
He fires a round of whining in my direction, I blast back with a time out. He lobs a book at the little miss's head, I answer with another time out. He throws his favourite toy "Leo" in anger, I rally with removing Leo for the whole day. He launches (thankfully not literally) a poop grenade into his underpants, I...well, let's face it. I clean it up. A poop grenade is not something that you can really punish. It's just something I live in fear of every day. It's my 1980's nuke and he holds control of the big red button. But poop really isn't part of this story. Okay, it factors into every story somewhere, but it's not the POINT.
We have made some headway. The whining is diminishing slowly. We've come to a point where he's starting to understand the time out concept and the consequences of his actions, but on a very short term basis. Consistency is all-important now and we are standing firm. Any sign of weakness on our part will send us retreating back over the bridge we fought so hard to cross. This results in a LOT of time outs each day. We try and keep the time between time outs positive and full of love, but after the 11th time out of the day it gets a little challenging. Bedtime can be a very welcome thing some days.
I don't hate him. I will never hate him. I love him unconditionally. But, by my mum's definition, do I want to go to war with him? Honey, I'm already there.
And there will be no surrender.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Working Moms Rejoice!
It shocked and saddened me when I found out a few years ago how the US recognizes maternity leave. As I understand it, women are given up to six weeks DISABILITY leave when they give birth. Um, excuse me?! Disability? Women become disabled when they become mothers? That terminology is absolutely disgraceful. Maybe the psychosis that sets in when their little darling enters the terrible twos can be called a disability, but not when they experience the miracle that is creating another human being.And hello?? SIX WEEKS? At six weeks postpartum with the little man I was still in breastfeeding hell and could only JUST sit down somewhat comfortably. That paints a pretty picture - a weepy, leaky woman sitting on an inflatable donut operating a loud, pulsating breast pump in the "privacy" of her office, cubicle, or the public washroom down the hall. Not exactly the prime candidate for success in the workplace. I know that women are "allowed" to take up to three months unpaid, but then they have to leave their new bundles of joy or choose not to return to their jobs. If you're not independently wealthy and actually do need to work, it's then the mad rush to find childcare, and suitable work clothes to fit over the weird and wonderful shape that is the post-baby body.
In Canada we definitely have it better, but it still doesn't exactly encourage women to a) strive for career success or b) populate the planet. We are allowed to take up to one year's leave. That is 17 weeks maternity and 35 weeks "parental" leave, which either parent can take. We receive 55% of our income from the Employment Insurance program, which is pretty good in comparison, I'll admit.
Some companies provide "top up" of varying degrees to subsidize the income of the parent on leave, but these companies are the exception and not the rule. I work for a charity, so understandably they are unable to top up maternity leave. It's tight, but we're making it work for the opportunity to have me home for the year.
I return to work in four months. Mr. Awesome is self-employed so we need me to work full-time to provide a regular, guaranteed level of income and health benefits for the family. As I've mentioned before, I really love my job. I work for an organization dedicated to women's health, and it stands to reason that they would be understanding to the female employee's needs. If I have to leave the kidlets, I'm lucky to be going to work somewhere where I like the people and I believe in what we're doing. As an employer they provide an environment that is very supportive and flexible to all employees, not just the women. They provide opportunities to work from home, work flexible schedules, take family time if necessary...basically work/life balance is a big priority.
The good news is, my employer is no longer as rare a commodity as I once thought they were. I thanked my lucky stars (and still do) to have found an organization that still allows me to be a mom without overlooking me for growth opportunities. But it turns out more and more companies are seeing the light.
Being a loving, attentive mom and being a driven career woman no longer need to be mutually exclusive. Companies are figuring out that if they want the right person in the role and that person happens to be a mother, they might have to make some accommodations to keep her.
A friend of mine just sent me the link to the 2010 Progressive Employers of Canada List.
From their website:
We would like to congratulate all the companies who have been recognized on the 2010 Progressive Employers of Canada List. They are among a select group of “mom-friendly” employers who are leading progressive change in the Canadian workplace for working parents and their families. To view the complete 2010 Progressive Employers of Canada list click here.Well HALLELUJAH! This is a list of workplaces that GET IT. There are a few names on the list that I would expect given the nature of the work they do or type of organization, but there were also a few surprises. Big corporate names like Coast Capital Savings, DELL Canada and Kraft Canada jumped off the screen. Where I would have thought that these might have been male-dominated industries, these companies are providing opportunities for women to thrive.Connect Moms, momcafé and Lisa Martin International (founder of the Briefcase Moms Program) initiated the annual Progressive Employers of Canada List, after conducting a nationwide survey in November 2008 to determine what women, and moms in particular, who are traditionally underrepresented in the workforce, were looking for in a workplace of choice. The survey found that organizations need to offer a range of the following services or benefits to be considered supportive environments for working parents including:
* access to emergency childcare
* lactation rooms
* flex-time
* on-site daycare
* part-time or contract positions
* maternity and parental leave top-up
* health benefits
Pretty darn cool if you ask me.
Are you a mom working away from your home? Does your company understand (and make allowances for) the demands you face as a parent?
Friday, May 21, 2010
Planning For The Future
My parents would have LOVED if my early desire to be a lawyer had actually panned out, but they never pushed me into what they wanted. They just wanted me happy and lovingly supported me in the choices I made, as long as they were fairly well thought out and somewhat realistic. (No, I am not an Oscar-winning actress, so maybe "realistic" is overtstating their priorities a bit.)
Following in our parents' footsteps, when the time comes for our kids to make some choices, we won't push them into one "life path" over another. As long as they're happy and safe, right? If they're happy and safe and making enough to keep us cared for and tipsy on red wine for the rest of our lives, so much the better.
That being said, we do enjoy spectulating whenever the little man develops a new interest. Given his latest passions, it's been looking like he will either be an excavator operator or a farmer, and married to "Natalie," a girl in his preschool.
Today, however, opened up two new possibilities as to a chosen career. I was playing with the little miss in front of the couch and the little man disappeared from view, as usual. I heard coins dropping, so I peeked around the couch and saw him reaching down the front of his pants. I inquired what he was doing and he said "Putting money in my pocket." (He must have inherited this money-saving tendency from Mr. Awesome.) I applauded his actions, but when I looked closer something was amiss. The money wasn't going into his pocket per se, it was going straight down the front into the Y-front "pocket" on his underpants. He had accumulated $2.20 (yay for Canadian coins) in there.
So I figure, we're now either looking at a future banker or a future exotic dancer. Either way, he'll have a good income. Bring on the wine!
Following in our parents' footsteps, when the time comes for our kids to make some choices, we won't push them into one "life path" over another. As long as they're happy and safe, right? If they're happy and safe and making enough to keep us cared for and tipsy on red wine for the rest of our lives, so much the better.
That being said, we do enjoy spectulating whenever the little man develops a new interest. Given his latest passions, it's been looking like he will either be an excavator operator or a farmer, and married to "Natalie," a girl in his preschool.
Today, however, opened up two new possibilities as to a chosen career. I was playing with the little miss in front of the couch and the little man disappeared from view, as usual. I heard coins dropping, so I peeked around the couch and saw him reaching down the front of his pants. I inquired what he was doing and he said "Putting money in my pocket." (He must have inherited this money-saving tendency from Mr. Awesome.) I applauded his actions, but when I looked closer something was amiss. The money wasn't going into his pocket per se, it was going straight down the front into the Y-front "pocket" on his underpants. He had accumulated $2.20 (yay for Canadian coins) in there.
So I figure, we're now either looking at a future banker or a future exotic dancer. Either way, he'll have a good income. Bring on the wine!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
A Good Old Fashioned Game of Put and Get
We love to entertain, but since the arrival of our kidlets the entertaining has been somewhat limited. We now pretty much just host family-friendly events, and this past Christmas we invited everyone over for a Kids' Christmas Party.
The little man is usually very outgoing with adults, but put another kid (other than the little miss) within 50 feet of him and I develop a 2.5 foot tall shadow for at least the first half hour. He's happier sitting on my lap watching the other kids play with his toys than to venture into the fray.
I feel bad for my friend's son, as he and the little man are the two oldest kids in our crowd and all the others are babies. He desperately wants to play with our little fraidy-cat, and at the tender age of three doesn't really understand why his "friend" won't play. I can sense his frustration, but he has found a way to work with what he's got. Once the little man has warmed up a bit and ventured off my lap, my friend's son will gently take him by the hand and amazingly, they'll go off to the little man's room to play cars, trains, or, as they did at the Christmas party, a game of hide and seek.
The hitch is, the little man had never played, nor fully understood the rules of hide and seek. What ensued was the little man being placed in a hiding spot, his friend leaving to go and count, and then returning to "find" him. It was their own special version of the game and they were having a great time.
And there you have the now famous game of Put and Get. Not sure it will really catch on in wider circles, but it works wonders in our house.
The little man is usually very outgoing with adults, but put another kid (other than the little miss) within 50 feet of him and I develop a 2.5 foot tall shadow for at least the first half hour. He's happier sitting on my lap watching the other kids play with his toys than to venture into the fray.
I feel bad for my friend's son, as he and the little man are the two oldest kids in our crowd and all the others are babies. He desperately wants to play with our little fraidy-cat, and at the tender age of three doesn't really understand why his "friend" won't play. I can sense his frustration, but he has found a way to work with what he's got. Once the little man has warmed up a bit and ventured off my lap, my friend's son will gently take him by the hand and amazingly, they'll go off to the little man's room to play cars, trains, or, as they did at the Christmas party, a game of hide and seek.
The hitch is, the little man had never played, nor fully understood the rules of hide and seek. What ensued was the little man being placed in a hiding spot, his friend leaving to go and count, and then returning to "find" him. It was their own special version of the game and they were having a great time.
And there you have the now famous game of Put and Get. Not sure it will really catch on in wider circles, but it works wonders in our house.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Be Careful What You Wish For
If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you're fully aware that we are living with one of the most horrific of creatures known to man...the whiny three-year old. The whining has been day and night, literally from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning until he shuts them again at night. The only reprieve we've been given, oddly enough, is when we're not at home. The minute we step back over our threshold it starts again, sometimes even as we pull into the driveway.
I'm scared to even put this in writing, but it appears that we MAY be seeing a downswing in the whining. I actually wondered if the Little Man was suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, because the second the weather took a turn for the better it seemed to abate slightly. I assure you however, it is by no means gone. We are now down to whining only 65% of the waking hours we spend at home, as opposed to the 90% we've been living with for the past six months. I'll take any improvement I can get at this point.
This post is less about the phase we've been living with and more about the phase that seems to be starting. Let me say this very clearly: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. We've been hoping for so long that the whining phase would end that we never even considered what might come next. I bet you're sitting there with bated breath just waiting to hear what we're facing now. Well let me tell you, this phase is a whole new level ofexcrutiating Hell joy.
This phase is what we like to call Selective Hearing. I'm sure you're familiar with it, as most men suffer from this affliction from time to time...selectively, if you will. This condition only flares up when the Little Man is doing something he is not supposed to be doing, quite often when he is on the verge of breaking something, be it himself or a household item.
We calmly and clearly ask that he stop what he is doing. We calmly and clearly ask again. And again. We then suggest a time out might be in order. Then we ask again. It's about at this point that I lose all conscious memory and Angry Mummy starts to wake up. I think some yelling ensues, some crying (sometimes him, sometimes me), and a time out.
Where it gets really difficult is when we're out in public. What do you do to a) stop your child doing what he's doing, b) teach him that he has to listen to Mummy and Daddy, and c) not look like a raving lunatic that is completely governed by their three year old?
As this phase is so new, I really have NO idea how to effectively deal with it. We're seeing some success with claiming we simply cannot understand what he's saying when he whines, but any tactics on how to deal with being ignored and blatantly disobeyed elude me completely. Being ignored really doesn't work for me. Maybe it's my need for attention, but that's an issue for a whole other post.
I'll keep you posted on how this develops. Comments are appreciated... it would be nice to know SOMEONE is listening!
I'm scared to even put this in writing, but it appears that we MAY be seeing a downswing in the whining. I actually wondered if the Little Man was suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, because the second the weather took a turn for the better it seemed to abate slightly. I assure you however, it is by no means gone. We are now down to whining only 65% of the waking hours we spend at home, as opposed to the 90% we've been living with for the past six months. I'll take any improvement I can get at this point.
This post is less about the phase we've been living with and more about the phase that seems to be starting. Let me say this very clearly: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. We've been hoping for so long that the whining phase would end that we never even considered what might come next. I bet you're sitting there with bated breath just waiting to hear what we're facing now. Well let me tell you, this phase is a whole new level of
This phase is what we like to call Selective Hearing. I'm sure you're familiar with it, as most men suffer from this affliction from time to time...selectively, if you will. This condition only flares up when the Little Man is doing something he is not supposed to be doing, quite often when he is on the verge of breaking something, be it himself or a household item.
We calmly and clearly ask that he stop what he is doing. We calmly and clearly ask again. And again. We then suggest a time out might be in order. Then we ask again. It's about at this point that I lose all conscious memory and Angry Mummy starts to wake up. I think some yelling ensues, some crying (sometimes him, sometimes me), and a time out.
Where it gets really difficult is when we're out in public. What do you do to a) stop your child doing what he's doing, b) teach him that he has to listen to Mummy and Daddy, and c) not look like a raving lunatic that is completely governed by their three year old?
As this phase is so new, I really have NO idea how to effectively deal with it. We're seeing some success with claiming we simply cannot understand what he's saying when he whines, but any tactics on how to deal with being ignored and blatantly disobeyed elude me completely. Being ignored really doesn't work for me. Maybe it's my need for attention, but that's an issue for a whole other post.
I'll keep you posted on how this develops. Comments are appreciated... it would be nice to know SOMEONE is listening!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
But When Does Mummy Get To Poop?!
The little man, as I've described in previous posts, is getting into EVERYTHING. He has also lost the ability to listen to ANYTHING I say, and will go so far as to blatantly do the opposite of what I'm asking.
I know, I know, this is par for the course for a three year old. Let me tell you, although there is some comfort knowing this phase will eventually end, that "par for the course" nugget of information doesn't actually help in the day to day dealings with my little hellian. He's not particularly mischievous, he's just utterly curious and always on the move. He cannot be trusted for a fraction of a second to sit still and not get into trouble, destroy something or tick off his sister.
And despite the hip-to-toe cast on the little miss, she is somehow on the verge of crawling. Through an intricate dance of inch-pivot-inch-pivot-inch, she can move amazing distances with surprising speed and agility. We're afraid that when the cast does come off next week she'll be off like a shot and we won't be able to catch her.
I've written about not being able to keep up with the household maintenance, but we've entered a whole new dimension now. With Mr. Awesome working or away, showers alone have become a thing of the past. Luckily, we have a large enough shower that the little man can happily play with his plastic cups while I manically clean off the spit-up/farm funk/potting soil/workout sweat that has him gagging and saying "Mummy stinks." Thanks for that, I already felt so pretty.
Although not relaxing or private, showers are fairly manageable. At least he's confined to a small-ish space and can't get into too much trouble. But there's another time that's not so easy. A time when some privacy would actually be kind of nice. A time when my movements (pun unintentional, I swear) are somewhat restricted to an arm's reach at best. And God forbid I lock the door to keep him out. That would either result in a knocking and yelling extravaganza, or him wandering off out of earshot and getting into some new adventure... think Thomas the Train meets the Dishwasher of Doom. Even having him in the room with me while I take care of business isn't the answer, as he can very easily just open the door and walk out.
It's fine in his world, as he still refuses to poop on the potty and continues to deposit "presents" ranging from grapes to grenades in his underwear on a twice-daily basis. HE doesn't need any privacy to get the job done.
And now, please refer back to the title...
I know, I know, this is par for the course for a three year old. Let me tell you, although there is some comfort knowing this phase will eventually end, that "par for the course" nugget of information doesn't actually help in the day to day dealings with my little hellian. He's not particularly mischievous, he's just utterly curious and always on the move. He cannot be trusted for a fraction of a second to sit still and not get into trouble, destroy something or tick off his sister.
And despite the hip-to-toe cast on the little miss, she is somehow on the verge of crawling. Through an intricate dance of inch-pivot-inch-pivot-inch, she can move amazing distances with surprising speed and agility. We're afraid that when the cast does come off next week she'll be off like a shot and we won't be able to catch her.
I've written about not being able to keep up with the household maintenance, but we've entered a whole new dimension now. With Mr. Awesome working or away, showers alone have become a thing of the past. Luckily, we have a large enough shower that the little man can happily play with his plastic cups while I manically clean off the spit-up/farm funk/potting soil/workout sweat that has him gagging and saying "Mummy stinks." Thanks for that, I already felt so pretty.
Although not relaxing or private, showers are fairly manageable. At least he's confined to a small-ish space and can't get into too much trouble. But there's another time that's not so easy. A time when some privacy would actually be kind of nice. A time when my movements (pun unintentional, I swear) are somewhat restricted to an arm's reach at best. And God forbid I lock the door to keep him out. That would either result in a knocking and yelling extravaganza, or him wandering off out of earshot and getting into some new adventure... think Thomas the Train meets the Dishwasher of Doom. Even having him in the room with me while I take care of business isn't the answer, as he can very easily just open the door and walk out.
It's fine in his world, as he still refuses to poop on the potty and continues to deposit "presents" ranging from grapes to grenades in his underwear on a twice-daily basis. HE doesn't need any privacy to get the job done.
And now, please refer back to the title...
Friday, May 14, 2010
We Are Officially THOSE People
We are now either the coolest house in the neighbourhood or the bane of every parent's existence. Potentially both.
For the little man's third birthday, Mr. Awesome's brother (Uncle Awesome) bought him his very own bouncy castle. Let's just say it's not small.
It is too big to fit in the backyard and should also really be set up on a lawn, so the front yard it is. Our front yard is pretty exposed, and as I said, this thing ain't tiny.
I have to say, it's pretty damn cool. It has two slides and an enclosed bouncy area. It inflates in under a minute, deflates in about three, and it packs up into a fairly compact storage bag. We've had it set up twice so far and the ecstasy on the little man's face is indescribable. The peals of laughter and squeals of delight are awesome.
We should have known what would happen. Uncle Awesome has essentially given us a high-powered kid magnet. Kids from every corner of the globe seem to be able to sense its presence and are somehow drawn to our curb. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. A little. Kids walking by slow down to a snail's pace. Kids riding by on a connecting street change direction to ride by our house. The other day a pair of teens walking by just kept repeating "Oh. My. God."
Some neighbour kids arrived home and were desperately eyeing the air-filled behemoth. Mr. Awesome felt terrible not inviting them over, but we really don't know the family well enough to know if they're the sueing type. We joke with our friends about having them sign a waiver before their kids climb on, but we're only half-joking. What if someone did get hurt? I'd like to think reasonable parents would accept that kids are kids and they do get bumps and bruises, but is it worth risking our house? Have I just watched too much TV, or am I paranoid because our neighbour across the street is a very successful litigator? Is this the future of neighbourhood play?
So, we may be the coolest house on the block for a while, until word spreads that the Awesomes don't share. At least not without a signed, legally binding release form signed in triplicate by a parent or guardian and witnessed by two unrelated parties. Too much? Nah.
For the little man's third birthday, Mr. Awesome's brother (Uncle Awesome) bought him his very own bouncy castle. Let's just say it's not small.
It is too big to fit in the backyard and should also really be set up on a lawn, so the front yard it is. Our front yard is pretty exposed, and as I said, this thing ain't tiny.
I have to say, it's pretty damn cool. It has two slides and an enclosed bouncy area. It inflates in under a minute, deflates in about three, and it packs up into a fairly compact storage bag. We've had it set up twice so far and the ecstasy on the little man's face is indescribable. The peals of laughter and squeals of delight are awesome.
We should have known what would happen. Uncle Awesome has essentially given us a high-powered kid magnet. Kids from every corner of the globe seem to be able to sense its presence and are somehow drawn to our curb. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. A little. Kids walking by slow down to a snail's pace. Kids riding by on a connecting street change direction to ride by our house. The other day a pair of teens walking by just kept repeating "Oh. My. God."
Some neighbour kids arrived home and were desperately eyeing the air-filled behemoth. Mr. Awesome felt terrible not inviting them over, but we really don't know the family well enough to know if they're the sueing type. We joke with our friends about having them sign a waiver before their kids climb on, but we're only half-joking. What if someone did get hurt? I'd like to think reasonable parents would accept that kids are kids and they do get bumps and bruises, but is it worth risking our house? Have I just watched too much TV, or am I paranoid because our neighbour across the street is a very successful litigator? Is this the future of neighbourhood play?
So, we may be the coolest house on the block for a while, until word spreads that the Awesomes don't share. At least not without a signed, legally binding release form signed in triplicate by a parent or guardian and witnessed by two unrelated parties. Too much? Nah.
Friday, April 30, 2010
The Day Mr. Awesome Broke the Baby
Today started out pretty well. I was only down 0.4 at Weight Watchers but at least I was down, right? I went for a great walk on a trail near our house and actually (are you sitting down?) JOGGED for part of it. Yes, I jogged. Pigs just might start flying by the window any minute, but I actually jogged. I'm planning on doing the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure in October and running the 5K route. I'm also planning on not passing out at the end of it, so it may require some training of sorts.
I got into the shower when I got home and when I got out I heard the little miss crying over the baby monitor. She wasn't stopping, which is very unusual for her. I went to investigate. I found Mr. Awesome comforting my baby girl and the little man lying on the floor "hiding" as he does when she is upset.
Let's go with the short version. There was a change table, there was some rolling, and then there was a lot of crying. Despite the title of this post, it was not Mr. Awesome's fault (it just makes for better reading). It wasn't even the little man's fault. It was only a split second of distraction and she was down. It could have happened to either of us. She seems determined to get moving, and sometimes that means vertically instead of horizontally. She has occasionally rolled off much lower items before, and always recovers within about a minute. She wasn't calming down this time, but we couldn't see any obvious break or swelling. She did settle down for a few minutes here and there but then would start back up again. Any other kid and we may have figured it was just your standard crying, but our little miss doesn't cry very much. (This is why I don't talk about her very often. I'm afraid I'll jinx it.) Even the little man, the one always guaranteed to make her smile, wasn't having his usual effect. We decided to take her to Emergency to get her checked out just to make sure.
One awesome nurse and one hot doctor later ("Adam" - we never got his "Dr." name. When did things get so casual? What have Grey's Anatomy and Scrubs done to us?), we were in X-ray and told that something looks suspicious. Sure enough, Adam came back to tell us there was indeed a break and she would need a cast. Go figure, the little man gets into trouble climbing various things on a daily basis and our six month old daughter is the one that gets the first cast.
She's such a trooper. Once the drugs kicked in she was back to her smiley self (okay, she was stoned but she was still smiley), even while the cast was being put on. I don't know if you've ever seen an infant in a cast, but it's so sad. It goes right around her pelvis to lock in her hip and make sure she doesn't move her leg at all. Her diaper has to go on top of the cast, which will make her first dirty diaper an absolute nightmare. Things will get into places I don't even want to think about.
So, my little muffin is a neon pink cast for approximately two weeks. I feel like a new mom again. I have to learn how to hold her in this contraption, and I have to learn how to soothe the crying (a magic mix of breastfeeding and Ibuprofen seem to do the trick). I have to figure out how to change diapers around a solid mass. Actually, that part is a little like the prenatal class where they make you change a hard plastic doll that does nothing to prepare you for changing a real infant. I never thought that would ACTUALLY come in handy.
When we got home I had her on her playmat (as I will NOT be leaving her on the couch again, even for a second) and she had her giant neon pink leg up and over she rolled. She didn't even try the "easy" leg, she hoisted the Fiberglas trunk like it wasn't even there. She did kind of get stuck there though, she can't push up like she used to. I'm sure she'll figure it out soon.
Kids just amaze me. They are so resilient. They can bounce back from just about anything. But, as we learned today, they can't actually bounce.
I got into the shower when I got home and when I got out I heard the little miss crying over the baby monitor. She wasn't stopping, which is very unusual for her. I went to investigate. I found Mr. Awesome comforting my baby girl and the little man lying on the floor "hiding" as he does when she is upset.
Let's go with the short version. There was a change table, there was some rolling, and then there was a lot of crying. Despite the title of this post, it was not Mr. Awesome's fault (it just makes for better reading). It wasn't even the little man's fault. It was only a split second of distraction and she was down. It could have happened to either of us. She seems determined to get moving, and sometimes that means vertically instead of horizontally. She has occasionally rolled off much lower items before, and always recovers within about a minute. She wasn't calming down this time, but we couldn't see any obvious break or swelling. She did settle down for a few minutes here and there but then would start back up again. Any other kid and we may have figured it was just your standard crying, but our little miss doesn't cry very much. (This is why I don't talk about her very often. I'm afraid I'll jinx it.) Even the little man, the one always guaranteed to make her smile, wasn't having his usual effect. We decided to take her to Emergency to get her checked out just to make sure.
One awesome nurse and one hot doctor later ("Adam" - we never got his "Dr." name. When did things get so casual? What have Grey's Anatomy and Scrubs done to us?), we were in X-ray and told that something looks suspicious. Sure enough, Adam came back to tell us there was indeed a break and she would need a cast. Go figure, the little man gets into trouble climbing various things on a daily basis and our six month old daughter is the one that gets the first cast.
She's such a trooper. Once the drugs kicked in she was back to her smiley self (okay, she was stoned but she was still smiley), even while the cast was being put on. I don't know if you've ever seen an infant in a cast, but it's so sad. It goes right around her pelvis to lock in her hip and make sure she doesn't move her leg at all. Her diaper has to go on top of the cast, which will make her first dirty diaper an absolute nightmare. Things will get into places I don't even want to think about.
So, my little muffin is a neon pink cast for approximately two weeks. I feel like a new mom again. I have to learn how to hold her in this contraption, and I have to learn how to soothe the crying (a magic mix of breastfeeding and Ibuprofen seem to do the trick). I have to figure out how to change diapers around a solid mass. Actually, that part is a little like the prenatal class where they make you change a hard plastic doll that does nothing to prepare you for changing a real infant. I never thought that would ACTUALLY come in handy.
When we got home I had her on her playmat (as I will NOT be leaving her on the couch again, even for a second) and she had her giant neon pink leg up and over she rolled. She didn't even try the "easy" leg, she hoisted the Fiberglas trunk like it wasn't even there. She did kind of get stuck there though, she can't push up like she used to. I'm sure she'll figure it out soon.
Kids just amaze me. They are so resilient. They can bounce back from just about anything. But, as we learned today, they can't actually bounce.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Wow. I'm Not Perfect. Who Knew?
Oh wait, I knew that.
I just reread last night's post and started crying. I actually considered deleting the whole post but I started this blog as an honest look at motherhood and my life, and deleting it would be anything but honest. Those were the feelings I was having in that moment. This is not a blog about being the perfect mom - a) I don't think that's possible and b) I would never have anything to write. I also know that there are women out there going through the same sort of thing, and maybe, just maybe we can commiserate and not feel so alone in the struggles. I will never delete a post just because I'm embarrassed about the feelings I was having when I wrote it.
Our kids are the two best things we've ever done. We're still getting to know the little miss as she grows and learns every day, and the little man is an awesome kid. He's excruciatingly shy with other kids or in large groups, but when it's just us or with a few friends around he's hilarious. His observations and funny little mannerisms melt my heart every single day. My heart is on a constant roller coaster between melting from the cuteness and then freezing from the whining, but I tell myself the freezing phase has to end sometime. It will likely be replaced by a lasting and all-consuming panic as he starts to gain some real independence and wants to walk to school alone or God forbid one day drive the car.
I read the last post to Mr. Awesome this morning and he's in favour of paper plates and nudity all the way. Big surprise. While nudity is fine, the paper plates will just create a lot of garbage and I'm not ready for rats to move in while we're sitting around naked. That's just not good hygiene.
In an effort to get back on track and avoid the infestation, I've already done a load and a half of laundry and the little man now has pants. I went to unload the dishwasher and I was about 12 items in when I realized it didn't get turned on last night. I was putting away dirty dishes. I am awesome. I am a freaking goddess of domestic grace. Perhaps I need to just stop and take a moment before I'm serving raw chicken and uncooked spaghetti.
I am going to set myself some manageable goals for today. Here's a start:
So, like I said, I'm not perfect. I'm not even close, but perfection isn't very interesting anyway. I'm just a basket case so I can be interesting for you, my readers. Yeah, that's it.
I just reread last night's post and started crying. I actually considered deleting the whole post but I started this blog as an honest look at motherhood and my life, and deleting it would be anything but honest. Those were the feelings I was having in that moment. This is not a blog about being the perfect mom - a) I don't think that's possible and b) I would never have anything to write. I also know that there are women out there going through the same sort of thing, and maybe, just maybe we can commiserate and not feel so alone in the struggles. I will never delete a post just because I'm embarrassed about the feelings I was having when I wrote it.
Our kids are the two best things we've ever done. We're still getting to know the little miss as she grows and learns every day, and the little man is an awesome kid. He's excruciatingly shy with other kids or in large groups, but when it's just us or with a few friends around he's hilarious. His observations and funny little mannerisms melt my heart every single day. My heart is on a constant roller coaster between melting from the cuteness and then freezing from the whining, but I tell myself the freezing phase has to end sometime. It will likely be replaced by a lasting and all-consuming panic as he starts to gain some real independence and wants to walk to school alone or God forbid one day drive the car.
I read the last post to Mr. Awesome this morning and he's in favour of paper plates and nudity all the way. Big surprise. While nudity is fine, the paper plates will just create a lot of garbage and I'm not ready for rats to move in while we're sitting around naked. That's just not good hygiene.
In an effort to get back on track and avoid the infestation, I've already done a load and a half of laundry and the little man now has pants. I went to unload the dishwasher and I was about 12 items in when I realized it didn't get turned on last night. I was putting away dirty dishes. I am awesome. I am a freaking goddess of domestic grace. Perhaps I need to just stop and take a moment before I'm serving raw chicken and uncooked spaghetti.
I am going to set myself some manageable goals for today. Here's a start:
- Breathe.
- Play trains with the little man.
- Take both kids for a walk (if it's not raining).
- Finish the dishes.
- Get through two more loads of laundry.
- Make dinner.
So, like I said, I'm not perfect. I'm not even close, but perfection isn't very interesting anyway. I'm just a basket case so I can be interesting for you, my readers. Yeah, that's it.
Paper Plates It Is
About a week before we left for our vacation, and over the four days since we've been home, I noticed a definite change in our house. I was managing just fine, for the most part keeping up with the never-ending laundry, dishes and general tidying. It was a chore, but it was almost all always getting done by the end of the day. Okay, maybe the next morning. I was meal planning, and a healthful and usually somewhat interesting dinner was ready by 5:30pm. Things were working.
Something has changed. I cannot keep up. It's not the vacation stuff, we had laundry in the unit and came home with just a few items left to be washed. It's more than that. The dishes are not done, there are toys EVERYWHERE and the laundry is piling up to the point that the little man doesn't have a clean pair of pants for tomorrow. I'm not even kidding. The kid will be pantsless. Thank God I can't get it together enough to make any early morning plans where he might actually need to get out of his pajamas.
What has changed? Why am I no longer capable of managing my house? There is some insidious wave of chaos seeping into our home and I can't stop it.
We have entered a new phase. If the little man isn't whining and clinging to my leg in the kitchen while I desperately try to do some dishes so we can actually eat the dinner I've managed to cobble together at the last minute now that meal planning has gone out the window, he's...quiet. Too quiet. Crap.
This USED to mean he was in his room, either dropping a bomb in his underpants in private or making a mess of his books, Megablocks, or some other fairly manageable business. No longer. He's in the bathroom throwing around toilet paper, he's in the other bathroom flushing my hair pick, he's in the laundry room doing God knows what, he's on a chair at the sink splashing water, he's letting himself out the front door... I cannot have him out of sight for a second. How the hell am I supposed to get anything done if I can't take my eyes off him?! Laundry is a fairly in and out task, but dishes and cooking require a bit of time stuck in one area. If he's not right there with me, I'm hooped. Crap.
I love my little boy and for the most part he's a funny, awesome little man that makes us laugh every day. The whining and the clinging, however, are soul-suckingly frustrating. I relish the few minutes a day where he's happily occupied elsewhere, and "elsewhere" never used to be cause for concern. Now I have two choices: increase his attachment-to-Mommy issues by basically chaining him to my leg, or let the house go into complete disrepair, eating off paper plates and living naked while I... wait, in both scenarios the house falls apart. Crap.
Why don't I catch up on chores after he goes to bed? Well, for starters, I'm pretty damned tired at the end of a can't-keep-up-with-it day. But the main reason is the little miss. God bless her, she's a good girl and I am NOT complaining (about her), but she doesn't go to sleep until at least 10pm. She's six months old now and starting to notice when I leave the room, so I can't get much done then either. Not to mention the fact that she eats NON-STOP from about 6pm until bedtime.
Where is Mr. Awesome, you ask? Mr. Awesome runs his own business, which means he doesn't have a "regular" workday schedule. Most evenings he's either out at clients or locked away in his office, fixing computers or designing websites. He works damned hard and will come to the rescue if I need it, like if the little man has woken up with another sleep tantrum while I'm feeding the little miss. Again.
It's late and I'm frustrated. I'm a control freak who does NOT like it when her house is spinning out of control. I am grateful everyday for the health and happiness of my family. I know that tomorrow is a new day and I will make some headway (is that how you spell that?) on my long list of to dos. The dishes will get done, most of the laundry will get at least washed and dried, and dinner will be made.
I just needed a rant. If it's to be paper plates and nudity, so be it.
Something has changed. I cannot keep up. It's not the vacation stuff, we had laundry in the unit and came home with just a few items left to be washed. It's more than that. The dishes are not done, there are toys EVERYWHERE and the laundry is piling up to the point that the little man doesn't have a clean pair of pants for tomorrow. I'm not even kidding. The kid will be pantsless. Thank God I can't get it together enough to make any early morning plans where he might actually need to get out of his pajamas.
What has changed? Why am I no longer capable of managing my house? There is some insidious wave of chaos seeping into our home and I can't stop it.
We have entered a new phase. If the little man isn't whining and clinging to my leg in the kitchen while I desperately try to do some dishes so we can actually eat the dinner I've managed to cobble together at the last minute now that meal planning has gone out the window, he's...quiet. Too quiet. Crap.
This USED to mean he was in his room, either dropping a bomb in his underpants in private or making a mess of his books, Megablocks, or some other fairly manageable business. No longer. He's in the bathroom throwing around toilet paper, he's in the other bathroom flushing my hair pick, he's in the laundry room doing God knows what, he's on a chair at the sink splashing water, he's letting himself out the front door... I cannot have him out of sight for a second. How the hell am I supposed to get anything done if I can't take my eyes off him?! Laundry is a fairly in and out task, but dishes and cooking require a bit of time stuck in one area. If he's not right there with me, I'm hooped. Crap.
I love my little boy and for the most part he's a funny, awesome little man that makes us laugh every day. The whining and the clinging, however, are soul-suckingly frustrating. I relish the few minutes a day where he's happily occupied elsewhere, and "elsewhere" never used to be cause for concern. Now I have two choices: increase his attachment-to-Mommy issues by basically chaining him to my leg, or let the house go into complete disrepair, eating off paper plates and living naked while I... wait, in both scenarios the house falls apart. Crap.
Why don't I catch up on chores after he goes to bed? Well, for starters, I'm pretty damned tired at the end of a can't-keep-up-with-it day. But the main reason is the little miss. God bless her, she's a good girl and I am NOT complaining (about her), but she doesn't go to sleep until at least 10pm. She's six months old now and starting to notice when I leave the room, so I can't get much done then either. Not to mention the fact that she eats NON-STOP from about 6pm until bedtime.
Where is Mr. Awesome, you ask? Mr. Awesome runs his own business, which means he doesn't have a "regular" workday schedule. Most evenings he's either out at clients or locked away in his office, fixing computers or designing websites. He works damned hard and will come to the rescue if I need it, like if the little man has woken up with another sleep tantrum while I'm feeding the little miss. Again.
It's late and I'm frustrated. I'm a control freak who does NOT like it when her house is spinning out of control. I am grateful everyday for the health and happiness of my family. I know that tomorrow is a new day and I will make some headway (is that how you spell that?) on my long list of to dos. The dishes will get done, most of the laundry will get at least washed and dried, and dinner will be made.
I just needed a rant. If it's to be paper plates and nudity, so be it.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
There's No Whining in Paradise!!
This was my hope when we boarded the plane from Vancouver to Maui. I mean, it's Hawaii, right? The land of pools to splash in and beaches full of sand just ready for digging. It's a toddler's dream!
Well, yes. The little man does love the pool and he does love the beach, but it doesn't seem these things are enough to end the whining phase of our child-rearing journey.
Mr. Awesome and I had some delusional notion that traveling to Hawaii with a three year old and a six month old would still be a VACATION. Well, it seems that word's definition has changed a little in our family dictionary. We leave Maui tomorrow and we've done just about everything we wanted to do but it hasn't been exactly restful. We're not a sit around all day type of family anyway, but we REALLY could have done without the tantrums and whining 90% of the waking hours we spent in the condo. Literally, the second we stepped in the door. Every time. It's like our house, and whatever vacation accommodation we choose, seems to have a whining force-field imperceptible to the parent's eye.
Our typical day was an activity or beach in the morning and then back to the condo for lunch, praying for nap time, then a swim in the pool before dinner. Here are some of the highlights:
On the second day of our trip, while we were still waking up three hours ahead, we got up at 3am and drove the 10,023 vertical feet to the top of Haleakala crater to watch the sunrise. It was spectacular. Freezing, but spectacular.
Just like every three year old boy on the planet, the little man is very into trains, Thomas, etc. This meant we were pretty much obligated to take him on the Sugar Cane Train. Okay, he's three and probably would never have known the difference but being the fantastic parents we are, we decided to go for it.
He fell asleep. 
The little bugger won't nap for any level of bribery, but we shell out $40 (with the coupon) to get us all aboard and HE FELL ASLEEP! He slept the whole two hours we walked around Lahaina and then did manage to wake up and enjoy the return train ride. It was a pretty cool little excursion in the end, and I would definitely recommend timing it with a stop for walking around Lahaina.
One morning while we were still staying on the West side of the island, we decided to bend the rules of the rental car company (I swear, they never explicitly said not to do this) and drive around the West Maui mountains. This was probably my favourite part of our entire trip. It's not a long drive distance-wise, but 75% of the drive between Kapalua and Kahului is single-lane, brushing the bushes on the side of the road, praying another car doesn't come in the opposite direction, thrilling.
PLUS, there is this awesome little bright green stand on the side of the road selling knock-you-down delicious banana bread. (Definitely worth the extra WW points that day!) I have driven the road to Hana before, but I actually enjoyed this more. It was shorter, which was great for the kids, and making a full circuit around that end of the island is actually enjoyable, unlike the back side of the Hana trip (which also violates rental car contracts...I'm such a badass). Most people turn around just past Hana and do the same 3hr drive back the way they came. Boring! On a trip a few years ago, my mom and I decided to keep going past Hana, and all I can truly remember is the numbness in my hands from gripping the steering wheel over miles and miles of unpaved road. I only found out this trip that if Mom and I had broken down out there, there is no cell service and tow trucks will not come get you on that side of the island. NOT something I want to experience with two small children.
It turned out two of our friends were on Maui with their 8.5 month old at the same time as we were, so among other get-togethers we all went to the Hyatt Regency Kaanapali for the Drums of the Pacific luau. This one was recommended to me by the representative at our timeshare and I have to say she was right, no matter what kickbacks she may have received (I'm such a skeptic). The food was good, the drinks were unlimited, it was a pretty darn good show, and the fire knife dancer was awesome. The little man LOVED it, and didn't stop dancing or clapping the whole night. Totally worth it.
Our trip included a lot of "When the kids are older we'll do this again" conversations, as some of our activities were rushed or cut short because of the sleeping babes in the back seat (the one place the little man will consistently nap). One such instance was when we drove through Up Country Maui, something I would definitely recommend.
We started in Paia, home of Mama's Fish House, Charleys (Willie Nelson's favourite restaurant) and some of the best wind-surfing beaches on the island. It's a funky, eclectic little old plantation town and we will return one day to wander the shops, have a meal and explore a bit. Apparently Mama's Fish House is the best restaurant on the island and the seafood is "three hours from ocean to plate," according to the lady at our timeshare. A definite must-do for next time. From there we drove through (again, no stopping for us on this trip) Makawao, an old ranching town. It looks like an awesome little place with some cute boutiques and great galleries, but it was gone in a blur as we continued on our way.
We visited Ali'i Kula Lavender Farm but it's not blooming season for the lavender. They do have lovely gardens but we didn't explore too far with the munchkins in tow. They also have a nice gift shop, so we're taking home some smelly treats.
Next stop on the Up Country trip was Surfing Goat Dairy. We will likely go back here next time (notice a trend?) and do the full tour, but we arrived 30 minutes before the next one and the little man wasn't in a place to wait around. We did buy some goat cheese that they SAY will last through the flight home, so we'll hopefully not unpack to find a mushy rotten mess. We ended the day at Tedeschi Winery to buy some pineapple wine - YUM. We also picked up a bottle of their raspberry dessert wine - DOUBLE YUM. Holy cow is that stuff delicious. One word of warning: No matter what your GPS says, there is no road back down to Wailea or Kihei without going back through Kahului. Trust me on this. Our GPS tried five times to make us take various non-existent or dead end routes, insisting we U-turn at every intersection. It would be nice if there was, but no.
One excursion that was a wee bit disappointing was the Iao Valley. Don't get me wrong, it was absolutely beautiful, but there really isn't much there outside the 100m paved loop and the lookout to view the Iao Needle. We did find out later that there are some great hikes past the main area, but we weren't exactly in a position to go exploring. Again...next time! I think if we'd only planned for a short visit instead of expecting a morning's activity it would have been better. But again, extraordinarily beautiful scenery.
We head home this evening on an overnight flight. This could either be very good or very, very bad. The little miss will will likely be fine in her scary airplane bassinet (see picture), but it's the little man I'm worried about.
We check in in just over an hour and we still haven't fully decided if we're going to put him in his car seat or not. I think he'll sleep better without it, but it's anyone's guess.
Yes, we've been very busy this trip but it has been an awesome vacation. And as you can tell, we have a heck of a lot to do next time we come here!
Wish me luck on the flight. See you in Vancouver!
Well, yes. The little man does love the pool and he does love the beach, but it doesn't seem these things are enough to end the whining phase of our child-rearing journey.
Mr. Awesome and I had some delusional notion that traveling to Hawaii with a three year old and a six month old would still be a VACATION. Well, it seems that word's definition has changed a little in our family dictionary. We leave Maui tomorrow and we've done just about everything we wanted to do but it hasn't been exactly restful. We're not a sit around all day type of family anyway, but we REALLY could have done without the tantrums and whining 90% of the waking hours we spent in the condo. Literally, the second we stepped in the door. Every time. It's like our house, and whatever vacation accommodation we choose, seems to have a whining force-field imperceptible to the parent's eye.
Our typical day was an activity or beach in the morning and then back to the condo for lunch, praying for nap time, then a swim in the pool before dinner. Here are some of the highlights:
On the second day of our trip, while we were still waking up three hours ahead, we got up at 3am and drove the 10,023 vertical feet to the top of Haleakala crater to watch the sunrise. It was spectacular. Freezing, but spectacular.Just like every three year old boy on the planet, the little man is very into trains, Thomas, etc. This meant we were pretty much obligated to take him on the Sugar Cane Train. Okay, he's three and probably would never have known the difference but being the fantastic parents we are, we decided to go for it.
He fell asleep. 
The little bugger won't nap for any level of bribery, but we shell out $40 (with the coupon) to get us all aboard and HE FELL ASLEEP! He slept the whole two hours we walked around Lahaina and then did manage to wake up and enjoy the return train ride. It was a pretty cool little excursion in the end, and I would definitely recommend timing it with a stop for walking around Lahaina.
One morning while we were still staying on the West side of the island, we decided to bend the rules of the rental car company (I swear, they never explicitly said not to do this) and drive around the West Maui mountains. This was probably my favourite part of our entire trip. It's not a long drive distance-wise, but 75% of the drive between Kapalua and Kahului is single-lane, brushing the bushes on the side of the road, praying another car doesn't come in the opposite direction, thrilling.PLUS, there is this awesome little bright green stand on the side of the road selling knock-you-down delicious banana bread. (Definitely worth the extra WW points that day!) I have driven the road to Hana before, but I actually enjoyed this more. It was shorter, which was great for the kids, and making a full circuit around that end of the island is actually enjoyable, unlike the back side of the Hana trip (which also violates rental car contracts...I'm such a badass). Most people turn around just past Hana and do the same 3hr drive back the way they came. Boring! On a trip a few years ago, my mom and I decided to keep going past Hana, and all I can truly remember is the numbness in my hands from gripping the steering wheel over miles and miles of unpaved road. I only found out this trip that if Mom and I had broken down out there, there is no cell service and tow trucks will not come get you on that side of the island. NOT something I want to experience with two small children.
It turned out two of our friends were on Maui with their 8.5 month old at the same time as we were, so among other get-togethers we all went to the Hyatt Regency Kaanapali for the Drums of the Pacific luau. This one was recommended to me by the representative at our timeshare and I have to say she was right, no matter what kickbacks she may have received (I'm such a skeptic). The food was good, the drinks were unlimited, it was a pretty darn good show, and the fire knife dancer was awesome. The little man LOVED it, and didn't stop dancing or clapping the whole night. Totally worth it.Our trip included a lot of "When the kids are older we'll do this again" conversations, as some of our activities were rushed or cut short because of the sleeping babes in the back seat (the one place the little man will consistently nap). One such instance was when we drove through Up Country Maui, something I would definitely recommend.
We started in Paia, home of Mama's Fish House, Charleys (Willie Nelson's favourite restaurant) and some of the best wind-surfing beaches on the island. It's a funky, eclectic little old plantation town and we will return one day to wander the shops, have a meal and explore a bit. Apparently Mama's Fish House is the best restaurant on the island and the seafood is "three hours from ocean to plate," according to the lady at our timeshare. A definite must-do for next time. From there we drove through (again, no stopping for us on this trip) Makawao, an old ranching town. It looks like an awesome little place with some cute boutiques and great galleries, but it was gone in a blur as we continued on our way.
We visited Ali'i Kula Lavender Farm but it's not blooming season for the lavender. They do have lovely gardens but we didn't explore too far with the munchkins in tow. They also have a nice gift shop, so we're taking home some smelly treats.
Next stop on the Up Country trip was Surfing Goat Dairy. We will likely go back here next time (notice a trend?) and do the full tour, but we arrived 30 minutes before the next one and the little man wasn't in a place to wait around. We did buy some goat cheese that they SAY will last through the flight home, so we'll hopefully not unpack to find a mushy rotten mess. We ended the day at Tedeschi Winery to buy some pineapple wine - YUM. We also picked up a bottle of their raspberry dessert wine - DOUBLE YUM. Holy cow is that stuff delicious. One word of warning: No matter what your GPS says, there is no road back down to Wailea or Kihei without going back through Kahului. Trust me on this. Our GPS tried five times to make us take various non-existent or dead end routes, insisting we U-turn at every intersection. It would be nice if there was, but no.
One excursion that was a wee bit disappointing was the Iao Valley. Don't get me wrong, it was absolutely beautiful, but there really isn't much there outside the 100m paved loop and the lookout to view the Iao Needle. We did find out later that there are some great hikes past the main area, but we weren't exactly in a position to go exploring. Again...next time! I think if we'd only planned for a short visit instead of expecting a morning's activity it would have been better. But again, extraordinarily beautiful scenery.We head home this evening on an overnight flight. This could either be very good or very, very bad. The little miss will will likely be fine in her scary airplane bassinet (see picture), but it's the little man I'm worried about.
We check in in just over an hour and we still haven't fully decided if we're going to put him in his car seat or not. I think he'll sleep better without it, but it's anyone's guess.Yes, we've been very busy this trip but it has been an awesome vacation. And as you can tell, we have a heck of a lot to do next time we come here!
Wish me luck on the flight. See you in Vancouver!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Potty Training #2
That's not just a clever title. There was no previous post entitled Potty Training #1. This post is about poo. Let's just get that out in the open right now. And I promise you, I'm holding nothing back. This was a big day in our family and I feel the need to share. Read on if you dare, you have been warned.
Picture it: Vancouver, this afternoon. Costco seasonal furniture aisle. The little man begins to walk a bit funny, and Mr. Awesome inquires if he has to go pee. He claims he does, so Mr. Awesome grabs the folding potty seat and the boy and marches off to the restroom. The little miss and I continue our wandering, heading over to the produce section. I get a text message from my darling husband with only two words, but these two words would cause crippling panic in any parent alive.
CODE BROWN!!!
Before we go any further into this tale, let me provide a little background. The little man has been pretty successfully peeing on the potty for a couple of months now with a few accidents here and there. He has, however, refused to poo in the potty. He would prefer to drop a grenade in his underpants and then pretend it hasn't happened until we notice the bulge or smell the aroma. We diligently explain to him that poop should go in the potty, dump it in and let him flush, but the message just wasn't getting through. The good news was that they were always fairly solid and dropped into the toilet with very little mess.
Until yesterday.
For the first time ever, the little man had what Mr. Awesome refers to as "soup bum". I didn't include this tidbit in yesterday's post, but God Bless Nang Nang yet again, my mum must have changed him five times in the course of the two hours he was at her house.
We thought the tide had turned and didn't even hesitate as we set out on our bi-weekly (I'll admit it, sometimes weekly) trip to Costco.
So, given the events of yesterday, CODE BROWN took on a whole new meaning. Given that Mr. Awesome had gone equipped with only the toilet seat, he had already done his part in cleaning up the mess. It was then my job to take the little man back to the bathroom to put on his new underpants.
Fast forward a little. Mr. Awesome and I have now each made TWO trips into the Costco bathroom, the little man is in new underpants AND pants, and we have not actually had anything happen IN the toilet. We are now trying to finish our trip as fast as humanly possible, weaving in and out through the shopping cart traffic jam that is Costco on a Saturday.
We're now in frozen foods. Once again, the panicked expression crossed the little man's face. Mr. Awesome was done by this point and flat-out refused to go a third time. It was my turn and I was up to the challenge.
Given the inactivity on the toilet so far and the repeated false starts, I was pretty sure if I waited long enough we would see some action. My little man perched on his Diego folding potty seat and we waited. I offered lots of encouragement and we discussed the situation in as much detail as you can with an almost three year old.
I am sure the woman in the stall next to us was silently dying inside. This is what she would have heard:
"That's it buddy, you can do it!"
"Come on sweetie, just try and get it out."
"Oh! There you go, that's right, you can do it!"
"I can see it sweetie, come on, get it out!"
"That's so awesome buddy, I'll show you when you're done!"
"YEAH! Buddy, you did it! You pooped on the potty!"
(I was reminded of the Austin Powers scene in the bathroom where Austin says "Who does #2 work for?" and Tom Arnold cheers him on with "That's right Buddy, you show that turd who's boss!")
My little man pooped on the potty today and yes, maybe I've set my standards lower over the last three years, but man was I proud. He repeated the miracle when we got home, and seems to get just how much better it is than the trouser bombs he usually manufactures.
Never one to count my chickens before they've hatched, I will not assume we have now turned a corner in the potty training saga. We will see what happens tomorrow.
Picture it: Vancouver, this afternoon. Costco seasonal furniture aisle. The little man begins to walk a bit funny, and Mr. Awesome inquires if he has to go pee. He claims he does, so Mr. Awesome grabs the folding potty seat and the boy and marches off to the restroom. The little miss and I continue our wandering, heading over to the produce section. I get a text message from my darling husband with only two words, but these two words would cause crippling panic in any parent alive.
CODE BROWN!!!
Before we go any further into this tale, let me provide a little background. The little man has been pretty successfully peeing on the potty for a couple of months now with a few accidents here and there. He has, however, refused to poo in the potty. He would prefer to drop a grenade in his underpants and then pretend it hasn't happened until we notice the bulge or smell the aroma. We diligently explain to him that poop should go in the potty, dump it in and let him flush, but the message just wasn't getting through. The good news was that they were always fairly solid and dropped into the toilet with very little mess.
Until yesterday.
For the first time ever, the little man had what Mr. Awesome refers to as "soup bum". I didn't include this tidbit in yesterday's post, but God Bless Nang Nang yet again, my mum must have changed him five times in the course of the two hours he was at her house.
We thought the tide had turned and didn't even hesitate as we set out on our bi-weekly (I'll admit it, sometimes weekly) trip to Costco.
So, given the events of yesterday, CODE BROWN took on a whole new meaning. Given that Mr. Awesome had gone equipped with only the toilet seat, he had already done his part in cleaning up the mess. It was then my job to take the little man back to the bathroom to put on his new underpants.
Fast forward a little. Mr. Awesome and I have now each made TWO trips into the Costco bathroom, the little man is in new underpants AND pants, and we have not actually had anything happen IN the toilet. We are now trying to finish our trip as fast as humanly possible, weaving in and out through the shopping cart traffic jam that is Costco on a Saturday.
We're now in frozen foods. Once again, the panicked expression crossed the little man's face. Mr. Awesome was done by this point and flat-out refused to go a third time. It was my turn and I was up to the challenge.
Given the inactivity on the toilet so far and the repeated false starts, I was pretty sure if I waited long enough we would see some action. My little man perched on his Diego folding potty seat and we waited. I offered lots of encouragement and we discussed the situation in as much detail as you can with an almost three year old.
I am sure the woman in the stall next to us was silently dying inside. This is what she would have heard:
"That's it buddy, you can do it!"
"Come on sweetie, just try and get it out."
"Oh! There you go, that's right, you can do it!"
"I can see it sweetie, come on, get it out!"
"That's so awesome buddy, I'll show you when you're done!"
"YEAH! Buddy, you did it! You pooped on the potty!"
(I was reminded of the Austin Powers scene in the bathroom where Austin says "Who does #2 work for?" and Tom Arnold cheers him on with "That's right Buddy, you show that turd who's boss!")
My little man pooped on the potty today and yes, maybe I've set my standards lower over the last three years, but man was I proud. He repeated the miracle when we got home, and seems to get just how much better it is than the trouser bombs he usually manufactures.
Never one to count my chickens before they've hatched, I will not assume we have now turned a corner in the potty training saga. We will see what happens tomorrow.
Friday, March 26, 2010
A Toddler Free Day, or God Bless Nang Nang
The little man and my mom had one of their "dates" this afternoon, which included a trip to McD's and then play time at Nang Nang's. (She was originally going to be Nan, but this is what he came up with and it stuck. Our daughter won't get a choice, as Nang Nang will be Nang Nang forever.)
I needed this day. The little man and I have spent far too much time together. He's fine as soon as he's away from me, but while he's here he's clingy, whiny, screamy...I don't know how to add a "y" to "cry", but yes, he's that too. I love him more than life itself, but I think some occasional distance is healthy for both of us. Plus our house was a DISASTER.
When our house is messy, I'm able to let it go for a while. (I have to, or I would be driven to drink by trying to keep this place clean.) I do try to keep up with the tidying and "maintenance" cleaning, but every once in a while it all gets to be too much. Just walking in my front door stresses me out. I reached this point about a week ago but haven't had a chance to get it done. My stress level has been slowly rising with every toy he brings out of his room, or that I put away again and again.
My mom had given me a gift. The promise of three full hours in which I might actually be able to get something done. Thank you Nang Nang!
I made a plan. I wrote a task list. The little miss cooperated perfectly and went down for a 2.5hr nap right when I needed her to. I put away toys, I did dishes, laundry, I vacuumed, I mopped the hardwood that covers most of our house, I cleaned counters, sinks, mirrors, appliances, I scrubbed the shower floor...I did not stop until it was done.
Half-way through my spree, my mom came in with the little man. I panicked. I wasn't ready to stop! I wasn't ready for toys to be spread from here to kingdom come again! My panicking turned out to be unnecessary, they were just picking up some movies to take to her house (next door). Phew! My frenzy continued.
When all was said and done, I felt a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. When he finally came home and the inevitable whining and crying resumed, I was able (for the most part) to deal with it calmly and lovingly. We had a fairly stress-free dinner, bath and bedtime and he was asleep by 7pm. I AM SUPER MOM!
It's amazing what a clean house can do for my stress level. I am without a doubt a nicer person and a better mom when the house is clean. You'd better believe, when I'm back and work (i.e. full salary), we are getting house cleaners in to deal with this place at least twice a month. It will never get done otherwise, and Mr. Awesome doesn't get a say in this matter. (He reads this blog, so this is my way of breaking the news.) A cleaning service is cheaper than therapy.
Until that time, God Bless Nang Nang.
On a totally unrelated matter...
Today was my weekly weigh-in with Weight Watchers. I lost 4.4lbs! That's like Biggest Loser weight loss! The thing is, I have no idea what made this week any different than any other week. Same workouts, same food tracking, same, same, same. Does it matter? Nope. I am now only 20.8lbs from my goal!! WOO HOO!
I needed this day. The little man and I have spent far too much time together. He's fine as soon as he's away from me, but while he's here he's clingy, whiny, screamy...I don't know how to add a "y" to "cry", but yes, he's that too. I love him more than life itself, but I think some occasional distance is healthy for both of us. Plus our house was a DISASTER.
When our house is messy, I'm able to let it go for a while. (I have to, or I would be driven to drink by trying to keep this place clean.) I do try to keep up with the tidying and "maintenance" cleaning, but every once in a while it all gets to be too much. Just walking in my front door stresses me out. I reached this point about a week ago but haven't had a chance to get it done. My stress level has been slowly rising with every toy he brings out of his room, or that I put away again and again.
My mom had given me a gift. The promise of three full hours in which I might actually be able to get something done. Thank you Nang Nang!
I made a plan. I wrote a task list. The little miss cooperated perfectly and went down for a 2.5hr nap right when I needed her to. I put away toys, I did dishes, laundry, I vacuumed, I mopped the hardwood that covers most of our house, I cleaned counters, sinks, mirrors, appliances, I scrubbed the shower floor...I did not stop until it was done.
Half-way through my spree, my mom came in with the little man. I panicked. I wasn't ready to stop! I wasn't ready for toys to be spread from here to kingdom come again! My panicking turned out to be unnecessary, they were just picking up some movies to take to her house (next door). Phew! My frenzy continued.
When all was said and done, I felt a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. When he finally came home and the inevitable whining and crying resumed, I was able (for the most part) to deal with it calmly and lovingly. We had a fairly stress-free dinner, bath and bedtime and he was asleep by 7pm. I AM SUPER MOM!
It's amazing what a clean house can do for my stress level. I am without a doubt a nicer person and a better mom when the house is clean. You'd better believe, when I'm back and work (i.e. full salary), we are getting house cleaners in to deal with this place at least twice a month. It will never get done otherwise, and Mr. Awesome doesn't get a say in this matter. (He reads this blog, so this is my way of breaking the news.) A cleaning service is cheaper than therapy.
Until that time, God Bless Nang Nang.
On a totally unrelated matter...
Today was my weekly weigh-in with Weight Watchers. I lost 4.4lbs! That's like Biggest Loser weight loss! The thing is, I have no idea what made this week any different than any other week. Same workouts, same food tracking, same, same, same. Does it matter? Nope. I am now only 20.8lbs from my goal!! WOO HOO!
Monday, March 22, 2010
I Need to Buy a Plane
I need to buy a plane. This is the only way I can figure that we will be able to transport everything we need for our upcoming trip to Maui. With a five month old and a three year old we are in a challenging "stuff" phase. Luckily our timeshare provides a playpen for the little miss to sleep in and the little man sleeps fine in a full sized bed, but we do need a large assortment of items - everything from play mat to potty seat.
Not to mention Mr. Awesome's snorkeling gear. Last time we were in Hawaii he "invested" in some pretty decent gear, rationalized by the cost of rentals multiplied by the number of trips to snorkel-friendly destinations over our lifetime. Savings - 1. Room in my suitcase - 0.
The last time we went to Hawaii was when the little man was 14 months old. This was also the last time he was on a plane. We figured we were "blessed" by the fact that he wasn't yet walking, making his desire to roam significantly more manageable. If only that had been the issue. Our departure was delayed by about 45 minutes, and for some reason they didn't turn on the air conditioning as we sat in the stuffy plane waiting to leave. The little man's cheeks got rosier by the minute. He had a bottle as we took off to help alleviate the pressure on his ears. He then downed a large jar of toddler mush. We figured we were home free and envisioned a nice, relaxing flight while he lay in his food-induced coma.
Not quite. He did indeed fall asleep pretty much immediately after take-off. One hour into the six hour flight, it became quickly apparent that all was not well. Fast forward 20 minutes. All three of us are covered in regurgitated toddler mush and spreading a foul smell throughout the cabin. I got the worst of it and Mr. Awesome escaped fairly unscathed. Being the good parents we were, we had packed a change of clothes for our little darling. But for ourselves? Nothing. I was covered in vomit and I DID NOT HAVE A CHANGE OF CLOTHES. I completely rinsed my shirt, but had nothing to change into. I was stuck in a smelly and soaking wet ensemble for another five hours. The flight attendant, adhering to the fantastic customer service that Air Canada is famous for, stood by and did nothing. Not even the offer of a $6 blanket.
Needless to say, we will be traveling with extra clothing for all of us. This will take some creativity, because with all the air travel restrictions being implemented daily, carry-on allowances have been reduced (literally) to the size of a piece of paper. We're pretty much screwed. I have to figure out a way to fit diapers, wipes, receiving blankets, cloths, baby toys, toddler toys, snacks, netbook loaded with movies, colouring books, clothing for four people, and, and, and, and, and, and...
This is why I need to buy a plane. All our stuff will fit, and I won't get the pitying/annoyed/disgusted looks for filling the economy section with noxious fumes.
Really, it's the perfect plan. It's foolproof.
Not to mention Mr. Awesome's snorkeling gear. Last time we were in Hawaii he "invested" in some pretty decent gear, rationalized by the cost of rentals multiplied by the number of trips to snorkel-friendly destinations over our lifetime. Savings - 1. Room in my suitcase - 0.
The last time we went to Hawaii was when the little man was 14 months old. This was also the last time he was on a plane. We figured we were "blessed" by the fact that he wasn't yet walking, making his desire to roam significantly more manageable. If only that had been the issue. Our departure was delayed by about 45 minutes, and for some reason they didn't turn on the air conditioning as we sat in the stuffy plane waiting to leave. The little man's cheeks got rosier by the minute. He had a bottle as we took off to help alleviate the pressure on his ears. He then downed a large jar of toddler mush. We figured we were home free and envisioned a nice, relaxing flight while he lay in his food-induced coma.
Not quite. He did indeed fall asleep pretty much immediately after take-off. One hour into the six hour flight, it became quickly apparent that all was not well. Fast forward 20 minutes. All three of us are covered in regurgitated toddler mush and spreading a foul smell throughout the cabin. I got the worst of it and Mr. Awesome escaped fairly unscathed. Being the good parents we were, we had packed a change of clothes for our little darling. But for ourselves? Nothing. I was covered in vomit and I DID NOT HAVE A CHANGE OF CLOTHES. I completely rinsed my shirt, but had nothing to change into. I was stuck in a smelly and soaking wet ensemble for another five hours. The flight attendant, adhering to the fantastic customer service that Air Canada is famous for, stood by and did nothing. Not even the offer of a $6 blanket.
Needless to say, we will be traveling with extra clothing for all of us. This will take some creativity, because with all the air travel restrictions being implemented daily, carry-on allowances have been reduced (literally) to the size of a piece of paper. We're pretty much screwed. I have to figure out a way to fit diapers, wipes, receiving blankets, cloths, baby toys, toddler toys, snacks, netbook loaded with movies, colouring books, clothing for four people, and, and, and, and, and, and...
This is why I need to buy a plane. All our stuff will fit, and I won't get the pitying/annoyed/disgusted looks for filling the economy section with noxious fumes.
Really, it's the perfect plan. It's foolproof.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
The Terrible Truth About Naps
Naps eventually stop.
I hate to be the one to break this to you, but your darling offspring will reach a point in their development where they no longer take naps. It will sneak up on you like an evil shadow, lurking and threatening to interrupt your 3 o'clock happy hour. It starts with one day, and then the next, and you blame it on any variety of schedule disruptions - the grandparents came to visit, he's getting a cold, the renovation next door was too noisy... but no. The nap is slowly disappearing.
Once in a while he will drop off to sleep and you'll (quietly) cheer and thank the gods of sleep for returning naps to your life. But it's a cruel joke. These moments of beauty are few and far between. They are the exception, not the rule.
After naps disappeared in our house, our lovely little man went through a period where he would request a DVD in the afternoon, and then fall asleep on the couch practically during the opening credits. It was pure bliss. Naps were back, and I didn't care if I had to watch Cars or UP for the 327th time. But this happiness also came to an end. We tried to get them back. Every day after lunch we would say "Hey Buddy, do you want to watch (insert Disney/Pixar title here)? Come on, let's sit on the couch and watch a movie." We'd even get so far as to have the DVD playing, munchkin on the couch under his blanket, getting his pre-sleep zone on, and then all of a sudden the spirit would grab him and he's off the couch and looking for some new mischief to get into. Let me tell you, it is mentally and emotionally exhausting to get SO close to a nap and have your efforts thwarted like that.
I don't know if it's a phase, as we are still in the no-napping portion of the toddler years. Naps may one day return to our lives. I'm sure when he's 14 he'll be only too happy to pass out whenever and wherever he can.
Only 11 years to go.
I hate to be the one to break this to you, but your darling offspring will reach a point in their development where they no longer take naps. It will sneak up on you like an evil shadow, lurking and threatening to interrupt your 3 o'clock happy hour. It starts with one day, and then the next, and you blame it on any variety of schedule disruptions - the grandparents came to visit, he's getting a cold, the renovation next door was too noisy... but no. The nap is slowly disappearing.
Once in a while he will drop off to sleep and you'll (quietly) cheer and thank the gods of sleep for returning naps to your life. But it's a cruel joke. These moments of beauty are few and far between. They are the exception, not the rule.
After naps disappeared in our house, our lovely little man went through a period where he would request a DVD in the afternoon, and then fall asleep on the couch practically during the opening credits. It was pure bliss. Naps were back, and I didn't care if I had to watch Cars or UP for the 327th time. But this happiness also came to an end. We tried to get them back. Every day after lunch we would say "Hey Buddy, do you want to watch (insert Disney/Pixar title here)? Come on, let's sit on the couch and watch a movie." We'd even get so far as to have the DVD playing, munchkin on the couch under his blanket, getting his pre-sleep zone on, and then all of a sudden the spirit would grab him and he's off the couch and looking for some new mischief to get into. Let me tell you, it is mentally and emotionally exhausting to get SO close to a nap and have your efforts thwarted like that.
I don't know if it's a phase, as we are still in the no-napping portion of the toddler years. Naps may one day return to our lives. I'm sure when he's 14 he'll be only too happy to pass out whenever and wherever he can.
Only 11 years to go.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
I want my baby back, baby back, baby back...
My little man turns 3 in a couple of weeks. He entered the "twos" late, and the last few months have been trying, to say the least. The whining is only outdone by the crying that ensues when he doesn't get what he wants. Some days he has been an absolute monster, surviving by the skin of his teeth by showing me a few minutes of loveliness in an otherwise horrible day.
As I'm on mat leave right now, he and I have been together almost all day, every day. This, although counter-intuitive, has led to his being VERY clingy. "Mummymummymummymummymummy" is a common whine in our house, as I've written about before.
I'm being slowly worn down. The whining grates on my last nerve every day and I think my teeth will be smooth nubs from gritting them by the time we're out of this phase. I was explaining my frustration to Mr. Awesome a few days ago and he said "Remember, one day he'll go through a phase where he doesn't want you around AT ALL. Just try and keep that in mind."
Ouch.
One day my little boy will be a pre-man, filled with teen angst, hormones and attitude. I like to live in a dream world and tell myself he and I will have the ideal mother-son relationship where he can talk to me about anything (within reason). I know that this will likely not be the case, at least for some of those years. I hate this knowledge. The thought of it makes me cry.
And that is why I take a deep breath and tell him one more time WHY it's not okay to slap mummy, or climb the bookshelf, or eat Shreddies for dinner, or climb into the warming drawer. And that is why when he's clinging to me and screaming for me so loud that I can't hear the timer go off to say dinner is ready, I tell him that I love him and that it's okay.
Because one day I will long for that level of need and one day it won't be there.
Yes, the thought of a 20 year old man clinging to his mother is more than a little disturbing. But for now, I just want my little cling-on.
(Remind me of this when he's screaming at 6am tomorrow morning.)
As I'm on mat leave right now, he and I have been together almost all day, every day. This, although counter-intuitive, has led to his being VERY clingy. "Mummymummymummymummymummy" is a common whine in our house, as I've written about before.
I'm being slowly worn down. The whining grates on my last nerve every day and I think my teeth will be smooth nubs from gritting them by the time we're out of this phase. I was explaining my frustration to Mr. Awesome a few days ago and he said "Remember, one day he'll go through a phase where he doesn't want you around AT ALL. Just try and keep that in mind."
Ouch.
One day my little boy will be a pre-man, filled with teen angst, hormones and attitude. I like to live in a dream world and tell myself he and I will have the ideal mother-son relationship where he can talk to me about anything (within reason). I know that this will likely not be the case, at least for some of those years. I hate this knowledge. The thought of it makes me cry.
And that is why I take a deep breath and tell him one more time WHY it's not okay to slap mummy, or climb the bookshelf, or eat Shreddies for dinner, or climb into the warming drawer. And that is why when he's clinging to me and screaming for me so loud that I can't hear the timer go off to say dinner is ready, I tell him that I love him and that it's okay.
Because one day I will long for that level of need and one day it won't be there.
Yes, the thought of a 20 year old man clinging to his mother is more than a little disturbing. But for now, I just want my little cling-on.
(Remind me of this when he's screaming at 6am tomorrow morning.)
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