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1. Don't sweat the small stuff...like matchbox cars, Lincoln logs, Mr. Potato Head accessories, etc.
2. Relish in the sweet little surprises. This morning for instance, I found boy pee in two separate places in my house. One puddle in the laundry room, one next to the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. Really? You were INCHES from the toilet!!!
3. Mom will always know best. Today she offered to come over later if I needed some help with the boys. "No no I'll be fine". However, by the time I discovered that second puddle, Mom was on speed dial. Maybe now I'll have a chance to wash pancake dishes from breakfast, vacuum the house and brush my teeth!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
A.M. Ambush
So I have this awful habit of not wanting to get out of bed to use the potty in the middle of the night. Child-like behavior, maybe, but I've seen one too many scary movies and am still under the impression that the boogieman is going to get me if I step foot out of my bed when it's dark out. You should also know that I keep a tall glass of water next to me to quench my insatiable thirst in the middle of the night. Why am I telling you my personal water to toileting ratio? There's a point, I promise.
Yesterday morning I was up at 6 nursing the twins. When they finally finished things up at the breakfast buffet, I was so desperate to pee that I ran across the hall into the bathroom, where Ben stood getting Carter dressed on the changing table. It's funny how once you get comfortable with a person, you have no qualms about plopping down on the john right in front of them. Ben isn't exactly a fan of this phenomenon but in my opinion he should be happy that I share everything with him! Anyway, on this particular Saturday morning, no one had a choice in the matter.
As I sat on the potty feeling sweet relief, all of a sudden cold water began to trickle down my shirt. I looked up in shock as my fresh little boy stood on the changing table, spray bottle in hand, giggling ferociously as my husband stood by laughing. I was unable to move, due to the sheer lengthiness of the peeing. Carter continued to spray me relentlessly as I sat paralyzed on the pot.
Why would one have access to a spray bottle of cold water you ask? Besides the obvious fact that my darling husband gave him one, you might like to know that Carter's hair has to be sprayed every morning due to a massive and chronic case of bed head.
So there you go. Despite what you may be thinking otherwise, it was not my own stupidity that landed me in this mess! Unless of course your mind goes back to my boogieman theory-from which you could in fact conclude ,that there is a moral to this story. Best risk the monsters of the night, or a mischievous little monster could await you in the morning!
Yesterday morning I was up at 6 nursing the twins. When they finally finished things up at the breakfast buffet, I was so desperate to pee that I ran across the hall into the bathroom, where Ben stood getting Carter dressed on the changing table. It's funny how once you get comfortable with a person, you have no qualms about plopping down on the john right in front of them. Ben isn't exactly a fan of this phenomenon but in my opinion he should be happy that I share everything with him! Anyway, on this particular Saturday morning, no one had a choice in the matter.
As I sat on the potty feeling sweet relief, all of a sudden cold water began to trickle down my shirt. I looked up in shock as my fresh little boy stood on the changing table, spray bottle in hand, giggling ferociously as my husband stood by laughing. I was unable to move, due to the sheer lengthiness of the peeing. Carter continued to spray me relentlessly as I sat paralyzed on the pot.
Why would one have access to a spray bottle of cold water you ask? Besides the obvious fact that my darling husband gave him one, you might like to know that Carter's hair has to be sprayed every morning due to a massive and chronic case of bed head.
So there you go. Despite what you may be thinking otherwise, it was not my own stupidity that landed me in this mess! Unless of course your mind goes back to my boogieman theory-from which you could in fact conclude ,that there is a moral to this story. Best risk the monsters of the night, or a mischievous little monster could await you in the morning!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Woops!
A few Fridays ago, we got home after a long day of work for both of us. I have to say I was looking forward to dinner, the couch and a good movie! Silly me for thinking we could have a relaxing evening, because our beloved pooch Jack decided he had just about enough of the children getting all of the attention.
As we sat down for dinner-a bourbon roasted rotisserie chicken which I slaved over (or rather, drooled over while perusing the "prepared foods" aisle at Stop & Shop) we heard a yelp in the other room. We looked over to see Jacky, unwilling to take another step and looking mighty uncomfortable.
Instantly my mind went to the chewed-up tube of Lansinoh (nipple cream) I found greeting me at the bottom of the stairs that morning. "Great", I thought to myself. "The plastic has cut his intestines and he's going to die". Ok, so maybe I tend to have a slight flair for the dramatic, but nonetheless, anyone who has a pet knows the instant pain you feel when they're sick or injured. They don't call 'em man's best friend for nothing people!
Before I could get a fork in my mouth, Ben was packing Jack into the Jeep and headed to the animal hospital. After shoveling down some food, I turned on the TV to captivate Carter while I nursed the twins who were now screaming their little baby heads off. I had no choice but to whip out the boppy and nurse them at the same time.
Next thing I knew, Mr. Potty Training (who might I add is not gracious with the inopportune times in which he needs to pee or poo) jumped up and needed to go potty. He was wearing jeans. Translation: "You think I'm doing this myslef lady?"
In an effort to meet his needs and protect my couch and carpet from bodily fluids, I cut the boys loose and arranged them on the couch. In turn, they were livid that I had cut their mealtime short and proceeded in a chorus of screaming while I rushed Carter into the bathroom. I plopped him on the pot, then ran back to check on the boys. I managed to suppress the cries momentarily by shoving their binkies in their mouths.
I walked back towards the bathroom to check on C, and I have to admit I was feeling a bit cocky, as if I were Wonderwoman...Calm and collected. "I can do this!" I said to myself. It was then that I realized I was standing in my kitchen window at night. Facing my neighbors house. Topless.
Ok, so I'm still figuring things out. The night grew progressively more stressful, yet strangely satisfying. For some ungodly reason I decided to give tubbies to all three boys with no back up in the house. It went surprisingly better than my first experience. Baby steps! Oh, and you'll be glad to know that my four-legged son came home that very night, muscle relaxers and all. That's right, the dog threw his back out. Two months down and thankfully, we're still laughing.
As we sat down for dinner-a bourbon roasted rotisserie chicken which I slaved over (or rather, drooled over while perusing the "prepared foods" aisle at Stop & Shop) we heard a yelp in the other room. We looked over to see Jacky, unwilling to take another step and looking mighty uncomfortable.
Instantly my mind went to the chewed-up tube of Lansinoh (nipple cream) I found greeting me at the bottom of the stairs that morning. "Great", I thought to myself. "The plastic has cut his intestines and he's going to die". Ok, so maybe I tend to have a slight flair for the dramatic, but nonetheless, anyone who has a pet knows the instant pain you feel when they're sick or injured. They don't call 'em man's best friend for nothing people!
Before I could get a fork in my mouth, Ben was packing Jack into the Jeep and headed to the animal hospital. After shoveling down some food, I turned on the TV to captivate Carter while I nursed the twins who were now screaming their little baby heads off. I had no choice but to whip out the boppy and nurse them at the same time.
Next thing I knew, Mr. Potty Training (who might I add is not gracious with the inopportune times in which he needs to pee or poo) jumped up and needed to go potty. He was wearing jeans. Translation: "You think I'm doing this myslef lady?"
In an effort to meet his needs and protect my couch and carpet from bodily fluids, I cut the boys loose and arranged them on the couch. In turn, they were livid that I had cut their mealtime short and proceeded in a chorus of screaming while I rushed Carter into the bathroom. I plopped him on the pot, then ran back to check on the boys. I managed to suppress the cries momentarily by shoving their binkies in their mouths.
I walked back towards the bathroom to check on C, and I have to admit I was feeling a bit cocky, as if I were Wonderwoman...Calm and collected. "I can do this!" I said to myself. It was then that I realized I was standing in my kitchen window at night. Facing my neighbors house. Topless.
Ok, so I'm still figuring things out. The night grew progressively more stressful, yet strangely satisfying. For some ungodly reason I decided to give tubbies to all three boys with no back up in the house. It went surprisingly better than my first experience. Baby steps! Oh, and you'll be glad to know that my four-legged son came home that very night, muscle relaxers and all. That's right, the dog threw his back out. Two months down and thankfully, we're still laughing.
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