Bibos

Eli is always making me laugh.  He has strong opinions about funny things.  Take for instance his bibs.  If I try to put on a plain bib with stripes or something, he usually will take it off and request another.  The request is almost always the same.  "I want the Bears bib!"  The first time he said it I was really excited and took out this bib.  

He tore it off and said, "No!  Bears bib!"  I was at a loss and thought this was another one of those 2-year-old melt downs with no purpose.  Then as I dug through the drawer, I found the one he wanted:  a yellow bib with little teddy bears that said "I love grandma".  This is the bib he wants to wear every day and this is the bib I would like to get rid of.  Here it is.

Potty and Potty

Recently, life with Eli has been bittersweet.  At times, as his mother, I would like to pull out my hair in exasperation but other times I bathe in the enjoyment of this funny little person.  

For many months now, I have been attempting to potty train this boy, but with very little success.  Last night, when I realized we were almost out of diapers again (!!), I made the decision that this has been quite enough.  Eli would absolutely become potty trained today and we would never look back.  Through breakfast this morning, I pumped liquids to get him primed.  But then to my surprise, he sat 40 minutes on his little pot without one drop coming out.  We finally had a success so I put a pull-up on him and let him collect his reward (a 20 minute) cartoon called Little Bear.  While he sat on the couch, the ounces and ounces of liquid he had consumed decided to make an exit.  In those few minutes, he peed enough to overflow his diaper.  I might mention he was still drinking a cup of juice during the show so the pump was still filling.  I put him back on the pot and sure enough, same story.  Another 45 minutes passed before another pee.  After nap and lunch we tried for another but the shy bladder prevailed.  I thought maybe a change of venue might help him, so I put him in front of the sliding glass door.  I have enclosed some pictures.  Needless to say, I am not throwing out all of the diapers tonight.

On a similar subject, Eli is a two-year-old verbal sponge lately.  It seems that he will pick out the word from your sentence that you would least want to hear out of a toddler's mouth and scream it for the world to hear.  I might be a bad parent but some of these words didn't seem that bad to me; they weren't expletives, but I have witnessed the shocked looks on people's faces that might make me think otherwise.  I just laughed when Eli would say "stupid" until he started directing it at people.  Then I had to step in.  Now it is on the forbidden list.  I won't even tell you the name he calls his "parts".  

Tonight, as I rolled on the floor with Eli, I felt a tag from my shirt itch me.  I said out loud, "That itches."  And to my surprise and entertainment, Eli looked seriously at me and said, "Your butthole itches?"  I think he was concerned that I, like him, might need some diaper rash cream.  I thank him for the sensitivity.  I didn't correct him because I was laughing too hard.  

Let's be honest, is anyone really that surprised that my child is the one with the potty mouth, but not the potty skills? 

    

Night Terror

Every now and then a parent will have a night which defies explanation. Unfortunately, tonight was that night for Mark. Immediately after work tonight, I went to dinner with friends and Mark was given Eli's night time duties. What was supposed to be an easy, early night quickly escalated into an unmanageable situation.

Here are the facts. Eli, who was wearing a less absorbent pull-up, peed our bed. Then when he was being cleaned up, he pooped in the bathtub. While Mark pulled him out of tub to clean the poop situation, he peed on his father's socks. Mark ran to get his mini potty, and while he was gone, Eli peed on his bath towel.

The following conversation is what took place in it's aftermath.

By the way, Mark, this is what comes of giving Eli juice for dinner when Mom says to use it sparingly.

Pet Supply Slaughter House

Yesterday, Mark and I took Eli to the local pet supply store. This is something Eli loves because he gets to see all the fish and little rodents in tanks and cages. We had promised it to him as some kind of bribe for good behavior, so we were obliged to deliver.

But, something very odd was happening at that store yesterday. It was like all the creatures inside had suddenly become predators. We were looking at all the fish tanks and we noticed a particular tank where there was a flurry of commotion. In it, a gang of white fish were attacking a poor, mangled orange fish. I was horrified to see that the orange fish was still alive and weakly trying to fend off the attack. Those white jerks had even gouged out his eyes! (Yuck, even as I type this, I'm still so grossed out and horrified) I was banging on the tank, trying to break up the fight. I turned to a goth-looking employee and told her she had to stop this cruelty. She just shrugged her shoulders and said, "It happens." I had to turn my back on the fish but I felt sick from it. As we looked at other tanks, we saw floating dead fish or ones stuck in plastic plants. The tanks didn't seem dirty, as if the fish were all dying from nastiness, but rather they had been savagely attacked like the poor little eyeless orange fish.

We somehow distracted Eli from the fishy carnage and took over to the nicer, more peaceful rodent section. It was at these cages that we saw a brawl between two gross rats. They were wrestling around and biting each other. All around there was unrest in these cages too! Mark said, "Let's get out of this store." I very much agreed with him.

Sick! It was like they were pumping testosterone into the air at the store which was causing all the animals to feud. Oh the fall...

On a brighter note, for about two minutes Mark and I thought we might have won $100,000 from McDonald's, but then we read what the stamp really said. We had not won yet, and if we wanted a chance in the future, we would have to eat McDonald's four times a day, which is what we have planned to do. I have no idea what this new plan will do to my supposed diet, but it doesn't look good for me...

And Time Goes By...

I'm often guilty of thinking life goes by too quickly. Sometimes it feels like I opened my eyes one morning and I was much older. Suddenly my baby is two and I have been married for four years. When did it all happen? But then there are different times when it seems I am watching my life like a movie in slow motion. This week has been one of those times.

This morning I sat in church and I had a strange feeling. It occurred to me that exactly seven days ago, I had been standing in almost the exact same spot, yet everything had been very different. I sat next to other members of my family and we had plans for lunch. We all piled into my aunt's house for Swedish pancakes made by real Swedes (my cousins). We sat with my grandma, who slept in her bed. That day, I just wanted to hold her hand and make her trembling stop. I hummed hymns (poorly) and wished I knew the words in Spanish. When it was finally time to go, she slept peacefully and I kissed her goodbye.

Monday came and went and things got busy so I didn't visit her that day. I would go on Tuesday, I thought.

Tuesday came and yes, I did go visit her, but not on the terms I had thought. While still at home, I got that call and had to quickly handle the business of calling family members and alerting them. An hour later, I stood in front of my grandma's bed, just like I had two days earlier, but this time there was no longer life in her body. I watched her intently, willing her to breathe just one more breath, but there was none. We, as her beloved family members, gathered around my grandma's body and grieved for the loss. There is nothing so hard as watching a totally heartbroken child mourn the loss of a mother. But as it all went on, I felt as if I was watching all this happen, rather than experiencing it. In my head, I wrote down my observations and feelings. A hospice nurse called in the death to some other party on the phone, without even thinking of politely stepping into another room. I guess that's what comes from repeated exposure to this same kind of situation. She loudly told the person on the phone my grandma's name, age, social security number and other pertinent information. She was very jovial and conversational on the phone. When presumably asked the cause of death, she too loudly announced "Brain Tumor". Behind her, we continued to cry. All I could think is that this seems like a scene out of a book, not a real-life situation.

Not long later, I watched as the funeral home came for my grandma. I mostly watched my aunt, who to me, tells the story of what it is to love someone. She took such care of her mom, both when she was healthy and then ill, even at the cost of her own health. On that morning, when the funeral home workers told her she might not want to stand in the room, she told them that she would stay with her mom to the end. When the older worker faltered for a moment, she even took her mom's feet and put them into the bag for them. I stood in amazement, wonder, and respect for this small woman who had loved her mother with everything she possibly could.

Friday, we had the funeral and buried my grandma on a beautiful day in a beautiful cemetery. My heels stuck in the grass as I watched her body being lowered into the ground. I hummed Amazing Grace in my head and said "See you later" to this woman I loved very much; a woman who helped raise me, my siblings and my cousins. She had a powerful love for God in her that I am awed by.

So, here we are, back at Sunday again. Just seven days later, but the world I live in, is a very different place.

At the funeral service, the pastor said that her favorite song may have been "When I Cross the Jordan" but he thought right now, she is walking with her Lord, standing on a great beach, next to the ocean. The is the picture of her I have fixed in my mind right now...

Meet me at the Dumpster

When you are attempting to sell your house, there are few things out of your control that bring down the value of your home.  For us, one of these things is an eye-sore of a dumpster that sits across the parking lot.  Our neighbors routinely stack their furniture and discarded appliances by it's side, never caring that the garbage man refuses to collect these things with the rest of the trash bags and rubbish.  For over six months, there has sat a dirty brown couch that collects rain and mold.  This is all very displeasing, but what are we to do about it?

Today, as I went to toss my bag into the dumpster, I noticed a new development.  Next to the curb were three pairs of underwear.  I asked myself how these underwear came to lie here.  As I am a natural at mystery-solving, here are the conclusions I have drawn:  Someone accidentally had three pairs of underwear still stuck in their pant leg (as this can sometimes happen) when they went to dispose of their trash and upon arrival, the three silently made their way out.  Now their owner is frantically searching through the laundry for his/her three favorite pairs of underwear, never thinking to check in front of the dumpster.  Or maybe a young woman was jump roping all the way to the dumpster wearing four pairs of underwear, due to the recent cold spell, and three of the pairs slid off unnoticed.  The final explanation is that someone drove by quickly and wanted to get rid of his ex-girlfriend's underwear that had been left in his car (three times) and just chucked them in the general direction of a very sad-looking dumpster.  These seem to be the only three plausible explanations for this phenomenon.  I suppose you may draw your own conclusions.

I am including photo evidence of this ridiculous garbage receptacle and the various add-ons left by my neighbors.