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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.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Rub a dub dub, 3 Men in a Tub!
Last night I attempted the impossible-giving tubbies to all three boys by myself. At the time, I thought I was honing in on my time management skills. I mean, doesn't it make sense to wash all three at once? Not as easy a feat as I imagined.
In actuality, I can't take all of the credit. Ben did wash Carter's hair before running downstairs to "tend the fire" (aka watch "Family Guy" or "Sports Center" or any combination of the two). And while Carter conjured up a conversation with his Papa on his pretend cell phone/rubber ducky, I prepared Landon for the big event. Reid held down the fort on the changing table. (Before you go calling child services, please note that the changing table is in fact located in the bathroom!)
As I eased Lando into the tub and onto his tubby lounge chair, the screaming began. Now mind you, the tubby water was a tad deeper than I anticipated, thus I had to hold him up with one hand while cleansing him with a washcloth with the other hand. Picture a wiggly, slippery little nudie baby, screaming like his life depended on it. All the while, Carter played merrily beside him, blissfully unaware of the waves he was causing with every movement he made. I decided Landon was done and swiftly lifted him out of the tub, lingering soap suds and all. "Oh well", I thought to myself, "At least he's cleaner than he was before". Within seconds he was wrapped in a towel, binky strategically corked in his mouth for sanity purposes (Mommy's sanity, that is). After a speedy lotion/diaper application, Landon relaxed on the changing table and Reid was up to bat.
I stripped him down and plopped him into the tubby. One thing Miss Brilliant neglected to do, was check the tubby temp, which had dropped significantly. More screaming. Also, the soap suds had pretty much diminished due to the big guy's splash fest, so now I was left with no soap whatsoever and no hand to get any with. I put down the washcloth, grabbed the soap and squirted it onto Reid's tummy. Again, freezing cold. The poor boy almost jumped out of my hand. The screaming increased. Carter tried coming to the rescue by pouring water on him. I had to cut this party short, so I pulled Reid out of the tub and the "penguin plunge" was over.
As I lotioned and diapered Reid (or Dor-reid-o as we like to call him) I sensed some activity going on behind me. I turned to see Carter stepping out of the tub and matter-of-factly stating, "Me all done now". So I wrapped him in a towel, which lasted 2.2 seconds before he was off and running, in all his nudie-ness. Reid, still screaming, had now disturbed Landon who chimed in while both squirmed restlessly on the changing table.
Enter Carter, still naked, who I promptly placed on the potty. Carter peed, then said he was all done, sliding himself off of the big pot. I turned to help him and only then did I spot the fresh poo sliding down the outside of the toilet bowl. The point of origin was clear, however a skid mark ran down his leg and onto his foot. Unsure of how this occurred exactly, I wiped him up with baby wipes since (just my luck) the tub had now been drained. I did a drive-by diapering of the big guy, and quickly threw his jammies on, ran a comb through his hair and sent him on his way. I finally turned my attention back to poor little Reid.
Although the entire incident only lasted about 25 minutes...it sure was eventful. It prompted me to realize that maybe it's OK to ask for help and that maybe I don't have to strive to be supermom (I said maybe). Because ultimately, I wind up looking like a frantic Lucille Ball or at the very least, Uncle Jesse from "Full House".
In actuality, I can't take all of the credit. Ben did wash Carter's hair before running downstairs to "tend the fire" (aka watch "Family Guy" or "Sports Center" or any combination of the two). And while Carter conjured up a conversation with his Papa on his pretend cell phone/rubber ducky, I prepared Landon for the big event. Reid held down the fort on the changing table. (Before you go calling child services, please note that the changing table is in fact located in the bathroom!)
As I eased Lando into the tub and onto his tubby lounge chair, the screaming began. Now mind you, the tubby water was a tad deeper than I anticipated, thus I had to hold him up with one hand while cleansing him with a washcloth with the other hand. Picture a wiggly, slippery little nudie baby, screaming like his life depended on it. All the while, Carter played merrily beside him, blissfully unaware of the waves he was causing with every movement he made. I decided Landon was done and swiftly lifted him out of the tub, lingering soap suds and all. "Oh well", I thought to myself, "At least he's cleaner than he was before". Within seconds he was wrapped in a towel, binky strategically corked in his mouth for sanity purposes (Mommy's sanity, that is). After a speedy lotion/diaper application, Landon relaxed on the changing table and Reid was up to bat.
I stripped him down and plopped him into the tubby. One thing Miss Brilliant neglected to do, was check the tubby temp, which had dropped significantly. More screaming. Also, the soap suds had pretty much diminished due to the big guy's splash fest, so now I was left with no soap whatsoever and no hand to get any with. I put down the washcloth, grabbed the soap and squirted it onto Reid's tummy. Again, freezing cold. The poor boy almost jumped out of my hand. The screaming increased. Carter tried coming to the rescue by pouring water on him. I had to cut this party short, so I pulled Reid out of the tub and the "penguin plunge" was over.
As I lotioned and diapered Reid (or Dor-reid-o as we like to call him) I sensed some activity going on behind me. I turned to see Carter stepping out of the tub and matter-of-factly stating, "Me all done now". So I wrapped him in a towel, which lasted 2.2 seconds before he was off and running, in all his nudie-ness. Reid, still screaming, had now disturbed Landon who chimed in while both squirmed restlessly on the changing table.
Enter Carter, still naked, who I promptly placed on the potty. Carter peed, then said he was all done, sliding himself off of the big pot. I turned to help him and only then did I spot the fresh poo sliding down the outside of the toilet bowl. The point of origin was clear, however a skid mark ran down his leg and onto his foot. Unsure of how this occurred exactly, I wiped him up with baby wipes since (just my luck) the tub had now been drained. I did a drive-by diapering of the big guy, and quickly threw his jammies on, ran a comb through his hair and sent him on his way. I finally turned my attention back to poor little Reid.
Although the entire incident only lasted about 25 minutes...it sure was eventful. It prompted me to realize that maybe it's OK to ask for help and that maybe I don't have to strive to be supermom (I said maybe). Because ultimately, I wind up looking like a frantic Lucille Ball or at the very least, Uncle Jesse from "Full House".
Thursday, February 4, 2010
"Would you like fries with that?"
So we bit the bullet and vowed to really work on Carter's potty training. We decided to go "balls to the wall" in our method, or in simpler (and perhaps more appropriate terms) no pull-ups or diapers. It's officially undies time.
Now, one thing you should know about our eldest, is that he is quite positively his parents' son in that he is easily swayed by the prospect of food. "Treats" to be specific. Therefore, when we explained that he would get an M&M when he peed on the potty (2 M&Ms for poo) he pretty much trained himself.
Yesterday he spent the whole day in big boy undies (except for nap time). He even pooped on the potty before school. When we got home last night, we realized that we hadn't really planned dinner and asked Carter if he would like to go get a Happy Meal as a special treat for staying dry all day. Of course he said yes and thus we prepared for a family outing to up and coming Canaan, CT (sarcasm) otherwise known as the real life Farmville. Carter was psyched to get apples in his happy meal. At the risk of sounding like a commercial mommy, I was equally as happy that he wanted apples and dislikes french fries-options like this lessened the sting of guilt for feeding fried, processed food to my two-year old!
Mind you, our little jaunt to Mickey D's was only the fourth place we've ventured with the twins. What a twisted little minds we have thinking it's OK to subject them to the aroma of a bubbling fry-a-lator and the impending doom of ketchup smeared napkins abandoned at most every booth. Needless to say, they did not leave their car seats.
As we walked in, a good-natured grandpa looked at us and immediately stated, "Wow, I thought I had my hands full", nodding to the two little boys who hung from the bench, chocolate milk dripping off the table. We offered a knowing laugh in return and staked out our spot in the corner.
A brief synopsis: Ben left to order the food while I held down the fort with the boys. Next thing I know, Carter is off and running. I look at him, I look at the babies. I look back at him and decide that yes, I should probably chase him and leave the babies. Carter goes to Ben. I go back to the twins. Carter wanders back. Repeat above synopsis.
In what seemed like light years later, Daddy finally returned with our tray of greasy goodness. After bite #1 of his cheeseburger, Carter decided he needed to use the potty. Although Ben insisted he didn't have to go, being the ever-nagging wifey, I lectured that we need to take him anyway to encourage his training. Seconds later they returned, because like his Mommy, Carter seems to have a great distaste for public restrooms. "Too yucky", he announced.
In no time, tears ensued when a chunk of Carter's cheeseburger hit the ground. Then, the babies began turning into little strawberries, overheating in their snowsuits, hats and blankies. Oh, and did I mention that this classy establishment does not carry apple slices? Or that my son was terrified of his wind-up walking Chewbacca toy? You'd think the kid saw a ghost. Finally, one more trip to the bathroom, this time the ladies room, and the discovery of the hand dryer. Again, you'd think the kid saw a ghost. Who knew my child was so jumpy?
Amidst the chaos, my hubby and I caught each other's eye for a brief moment in time and he said, "Did you ever think that when we got together 5 1/2 years ago that we would end up with 3 little boys, eating dinner at McDonalds no less?"
"Definitely not", I replied as I surveyed the scene of crinkled up papers and empty cups. Looking back, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Now, one thing you should know about our eldest, is that he is quite positively his parents' son in that he is easily swayed by the prospect of food. "Treats" to be specific. Therefore, when we explained that he would get an M&M when he peed on the potty (2 M&Ms for poo) he pretty much trained himself.
Yesterday he spent the whole day in big boy undies (except for nap time). He even pooped on the potty before school. When we got home last night, we realized that we hadn't really planned dinner and asked Carter if he would like to go get a Happy Meal as a special treat for staying dry all day. Of course he said yes and thus we prepared for a family outing to up and coming Canaan, CT (sarcasm) otherwise known as the real life Farmville. Carter was psyched to get apples in his happy meal. At the risk of sounding like a commercial mommy, I was equally as happy that he wanted apples and dislikes french fries-options like this lessened the sting of guilt for feeding fried, processed food to my two-year old!
Mind you, our little jaunt to Mickey D's was only the fourth place we've ventured with the twins. What a twisted little minds we have thinking it's OK to subject them to the aroma of a bubbling fry-a-lator and the impending doom of ketchup smeared napkins abandoned at most every booth. Needless to say, they did not leave their car seats.
As we walked in, a good-natured grandpa looked at us and immediately stated, "Wow, I thought I had my hands full", nodding to the two little boys who hung from the bench, chocolate milk dripping off the table. We offered a knowing laugh in return and staked out our spot in the corner.
A brief synopsis: Ben left to order the food while I held down the fort with the boys. Next thing I know, Carter is off and running. I look at him, I look at the babies. I look back at him and decide that yes, I should probably chase him and leave the babies. Carter goes to Ben. I go back to the twins. Carter wanders back. Repeat above synopsis.
In what seemed like light years later, Daddy finally returned with our tray of greasy goodness. After bite #1 of his cheeseburger, Carter decided he needed to use the potty. Although Ben insisted he didn't have to go, being the ever-nagging wifey, I lectured that we need to take him anyway to encourage his training. Seconds later they returned, because like his Mommy, Carter seems to have a great distaste for public restrooms. "Too yucky", he announced.
In no time, tears ensued when a chunk of Carter's cheeseburger hit the ground. Then, the babies began turning into little strawberries, overheating in their snowsuits, hats and blankies. Oh, and did I mention that this classy establishment does not carry apple slices? Or that my son was terrified of his wind-up walking Chewbacca toy? You'd think the kid saw a ghost. Finally, one more trip to the bathroom, this time the ladies room, and the discovery of the hand dryer. Again, you'd think the kid saw a ghost. Who knew my child was so jumpy?
Amidst the chaos, my hubby and I caught each other's eye for a brief moment in time and he said, "Did you ever think that when we got together 5 1/2 years ago that we would end up with 3 little boys, eating dinner at McDonalds no less?"
"Definitely not", I replied as I surveyed the scene of crinkled up papers and empty cups. Looking back, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Friday, January 29, 2010
"I just need to"
This morning Carter and I headed to Goshen for a play date with my high school friends and their kiddos. I left milk in the fridge for the twins, but by the time we returned, I had missed a feeding and had tingly ta tas to prove it. I was also 30 seconds away from leaking through one of the few shirts that fit me right now. Hey, no one said motherhood was sexy.
Ben was about to put Carter down for a nap, so I decided to pump before the babies woke up and needed to be fed again. As they were getting ready to head upstairs, the phone rang and Ben got distracted talking to someone. Then I got distracted Facebook-stalking. All of a sudden we caught each other's eye long enough to silently point to our dear boy.
There, in our window seat, stood Carter with his shirt half up, breast pump firmly in hand. Though we struggled to disguise our laughter, the outburst was inevitable. When we asked him what he was doing, he said "Pumpin". When we asked why, he replied, "I just need to".
This moment will forever be etched in my memory, and taught me two things. 1. Maybe I should supervise my child better because before I know it he'll be in the knife drawer and 2. Again, toddlers do not discriminate when it comes to "lady things". Note to self: hide all breastfeeding supplies, tampons, bras, etc. before he smuggles them into school or whips them out when we have company!
Ben was about to put Carter down for a nap, so I decided to pump before the babies woke up and needed to be fed again. As they were getting ready to head upstairs, the phone rang and Ben got distracted talking to someone. Then I got distracted Facebook-stalking. All of a sudden we caught each other's eye long enough to silently point to our dear boy.
There, in our window seat, stood Carter with his shirt half up, breast pump firmly in hand. Though we struggled to disguise our laughter, the outburst was inevitable. When we asked him what he was doing, he said "Pumpin". When we asked why, he replied, "I just need to".
This moment will forever be etched in my memory, and taught me two things. 1. Maybe I should supervise my child better because before I know it he'll be in the knife drawer and 2. Again, toddlers do not discriminate when it comes to "lady things". Note to self: hide all breastfeeding supplies, tampons, bras, etc. before he smuggles them into school or whips them out when we have company!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Diapers and Undies
So as of today, we estimate that we've gone through about 373 newborn diapers (lost count of wipes). It has been 3 weeks and 2 days.
This is obviously not even counting C's diapers...cross your fingers that potty training takes off! On Saturday Carter got to pick out big boy undies. We've been promising "Handy Manny" underwear but just my luck, Target did not have them. I was thrilled to see they had Sesame Street and Mickey Mouse, two of his favorites. However, my little man instantly gravitated to the Disney Princess pack. I managed to distract him with the Elmo variety pack, until he lay eyes on the pink sparkly Minnie Mouse undies. It was like he got a little glimpse of heaven.
The sad look on his face was almost too much to bear as I explained to him that those were little girl underwear. Normally this sort of thing would not matter to me, but since the bulk of his training will take place at daycare, I just couldn't do it!!! Ultimately he picked the Sesame Street ones.
My guilt really got the best of me that day and Carter ended up leaving the store with the big boy undies, two pairs of pants, a new bathing suit, sunglasses and...a little mermaid camera that says, "You're as pretty as a princess" when you take a picture. I couldn't resist. It almost made up for the lack of Minnie Mouse panties!
For now, Carter pees on the potty spontaneously and we continue to bribe him with M&Ms :)
This is obviously not even counting C's diapers...cross your fingers that potty training takes off! On Saturday Carter got to pick out big boy undies. We've been promising "Handy Manny" underwear but just my luck, Target did not have them. I was thrilled to see they had Sesame Street and Mickey Mouse, two of his favorites. However, my little man instantly gravitated to the Disney Princess pack. I managed to distract him with the Elmo variety pack, until he lay eyes on the pink sparkly Minnie Mouse undies. It was like he got a little glimpse of heaven.
The sad look on his face was almost too much to bear as I explained to him that those were little girl underwear. Normally this sort of thing would not matter to me, but since the bulk of his training will take place at daycare, I just couldn't do it!!! Ultimately he picked the Sesame Street ones.
My guilt really got the best of me that day and Carter ended up leaving the store with the big boy undies, two pairs of pants, a new bathing suit, sunglasses and...a little mermaid camera that says, "You're as pretty as a princess" when you take a picture. I couldn't resist. It almost made up for the lack of Minnie Mouse panties!
For now, Carter pees on the potty spontaneously and we continue to bribe him with M&Ms :)
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