Liquid Learning

This blog is for educational purposes.

A valuable lesson I learned this evening: if a little boy is going to pee in the big boy toilet, it is important to make sure he gets the second toilet seat up before he starts peeing. If he catches you off guard and starts to pee with the seat down, he will not be tall enough to get the pee over the seat and into the hole. Instead, the "hose" will rest on the seat, creating a liquid pressure crisis and spraying forward, straight sideways and backward all at once. Once this is taking place, it is impossible to stop the flow or lift the seat. One can only lift the little boy off the ground in an effort to stop the damage, but at this point, it is too late. After the pee explosion, it will be necessary to generously clean the wall, cabinets, toilet and floor to sanitize and restore it to it's previous state.

Perfect Mess

For the first time in a number of weeks, the weather was perfect today. I had big plans for my day with Eli. This was going to be the day I was to become super-mom. Eli was extremely well behaved when he woke up and had a dry diaper all night, which is cause for celebration in our house. Also, I would also be eating copious amounts of healthy foods on this perfect day, because I, of course, am a perfect eater. As you can see, things were shaping up well for the Clintons.

Eli very helpfully carried the bag full of recycling to my car on our way out. He was reluctant to leave it in the trunk though, as he believed it should ride next to him in the seat. He has also been maddeningly slow about getting into his car seat when we need to go. I felt the perfection bubble start to cloud. About 45 seconds after we finally started driving, I felt my stomach growl. It occurred to me, I forgot to eat my balanced breakfast to start my perfect day of eating. Maybe some decaf iced coffee would alleviate some of my pains. But as usual, the call of the doughnut hooked me and forced me to order one to accompany my somewhat healthy coffee (I blame Eli though, he started asking for doughnut holes as soon as we got to the Dunkin' drive-thru). If I was going to go for a doughnut, then I would have to get the one with added calories packed on the inside - the infamous Boston Creme! (It is also very humbling to order doughnuts from a man that knows your name and order. It doesn't speak well of my diet.)

I found it was necessary to eat the fat-bomb in the car while I drove, lest the chocolate smear off in the bag. In times like these, I usually become aware of what I must look like to an outside observer. Here I was driving, and eating huge bites of a chocolate covered doughnut, looking like an animal. Personally, I would point at laugh at such a person. As I pulled up to the stoplight, I felt a cold goo hit my arm. The custard had oozed out of the doughnut and was plopped on my skin. What to do? I could take a napkin and clean up the sticky mess, or I could eat it off (again, the thought of being observed blinked in my head). I chose the higher calorie option. I gross myself out.

After distributing our recycling, Eli and I went to the park for some energy (and calorie) spending. I was glad to see there was no one else there, so I wouldn't be forced to dislike anyone else's kids. One thing I immediately noticed was that Eli would not be enjoying his play time today. Every other step he took, he complained about getting wood chips in his sandals and begged me to take off his shoes to clear them, then replace the shoes. I complied with his request a few times before I lost my patience. I told him to toughen up and quit whining about having wood chip feet. Neither of us enjoyed our time very much. I had to let him pee on a tree again (is this illegal for kids, or just bad parenting?) and then it was time to go back home - per Eli's wood chipped request.

The rest of the day was off track a little, so I figured the healthy eating super-mom would have to make an appearance tomorrow.

So, a day of perfection? Not exactly. But a day that fits in perfectly with all the rest of ours? Yes it was. Eli and Lily make a good team of wimps that prefer to be eating doughnuts.

Stress Bomb

I will admit that I tend to be a person that tends to run a little on the nuts side. There are certain situations that never fail to stress me out and turn me into a crazy hag, annoying everyone around me, particularly my husband. Two examples of situations that will never fail to send me through the roof: 1. any time we are transporting a mattress on the outside of a vehicle, like in the bed of a truck or strapped to the top of a car. I cannot stop looking back at it and feeling like at any moment it is about to blow off of the car. It makes me sweat. It makes me crazy! and 2. Navigating an airport (especially security) with a small child. I freak out and yell at everyone and also start sweating. Last week I discovered a third situation to add to my list. When my child is physically ill and I am out of my element, I turn into crazy mom. Let me tell you a little bit about it.

Last week, we had a family vacation to Minnesota with Mark's family. We drove 8 hours from Illinois and Eli did remarkably well. All that changed when we got to our meeting point, Mark's grandparent's house. Eli got clingy and lethargic and then unexpectedly started to throw up outside on the patio (where everyone would be enjoying their dinner). I switched from low-key to crazy in about 30 seconds after that. I wanted to cure him instantly and I needed everything to go off without a hitch. Of course, things don't work like that, so I had tension leaking out of my ears. We covered Eli with a towel once we got back in the car and I held a bucket in front of him while we drove the 20+ miles to the cabin we would be staying in. He made good use of it on the drive as we took a few wrong turns. I was sweating (not surprisingly) in my seat. We finally got to the cabin and in the dark, in my tense mood, things went from bad to worse (it is never a good idea to pass judgment on a place when it is nighttime and you are carrying a toddler covered in vomit around). We needed to give Eli a bath to get some of the stink off of him but the water that came out of the faucet into the tub looked worse than he did. It was yellow and smelled like iron. I had to wash his hair and skin in it (later in the week, Eli would continue to ask us who peed in his bath water). We put Eli to bed on his futon to sleep that night but at least one of us was standing watch at all times, should he start to puke in his sleep. Mark and I ended up sleeping on either side of him, waking up periodically to the sound of gagging and rushing to grab the bucket. As Eli has really never been sick like this, both of us were in full panic mode. Should we take him to the doctor? Was there a doctor anywhere near our remote cabin? We felt rather helpless and desperate. Mercifully at 3:45 am, he fell into a deeper sleep and the puke showers were over. The next day was marginally better with an absence of vomit but a high fever kept us concerned. Day three started off with Eli throwing up into the little cup of Motrin he was about to drink, followed by several more rounds. We both went back into panic mode, grabbed the bucket, and headed for the hospital that we found out was only 8 miles away. There, poor Eli got his first IV while I had to basically lay on top of him so he wouldn't move. I was sweating again. Turns out the poor kid had a nasty strain of the flu that had no real treatment other than some anti-nausea medicine.

Days went on with different symptoms and our poor boy didn't have a full health day until Wednesday (5 days into the trip). But every day, sick or not, I was watching his every move. Every cough or expression caused me to jump up and ask if he was about to throw up. My body was so tense from the stress of the situation and from the partial nights of sleep on the futon. I must have made everyone super annoyed with me. There is nothing worse than knowing you can't do anything to make your child feel better when they are looking at you with pleading eyes. I was a wreck. I might mention here too that the cabin turned out to be better in the light of day. Yes, it was slightly rustic and had rusty stink water, no cable or Internet and had a large population of spiders living in it, but it grew on us. We replaced the TV with family time and played games by night. There were endless hours of fishing to be had. Not a bad way to spend the week, well, minus the flu-ridden boy. All in all, we had 2 full days of health before we turned around and drove our 8 hours back home - through a menacing looking thunderstorm, of course. It took days to fully wash off the metallic smell from our skin. The cabin was exactly what we needed to really appreciate the craphole we live in.

As an aside, I did my first fishing ever with Eli's toddler sized fishing pole. I caught a few fish and was even convinced that hooking them in their lip was not so bad, until I hooked one right in the eye and immediately ended my fishing career.

So, if you should ever find me in one of the three stressful situations I mentioned above, don't even talk to me, because I will annoy you so much that you will want to punch me right in my sweaty face.

Here's a picture of Eli on our way home during the 20 minutes he decided to nap.

Pooling our Issues

Today, for the first time this season we decided to go to the pool. The temperature has been dangerously high lately so we were left with little choice. Everywhere we go during the day, it feels like we are getting microwaved in our car and the air conditioning never feels cold enough.

I have no real problem with the pool, in fact I like how much Eli enjoys himself there. But it is the swimming suit situation that I take issue with. I am not one of those ladies that can't wait to buy a new cute suit every year; I bought a black very conservative tankini years ago and that has been my annual safety blanket ever since. This year though, it fit quite differently. It seems to be a losing fight to try to keep the bottoms out of my bottom. I found some shorts to wear in the pool that might disguise the ripples of cellulite that have recently made a rude appearance. I mentioned my reservations to Mark before we got to the pool but as usual, since there is no correct response to such a comment, he just listened.

As we walked down the steps into the toddler pool area, I was immediately comforted by the look of the other maternal pool patrons sitting in chairs at the shallow end. In fact, after I pointed them out, Mark made a supportive comment having something to do with "beached whales". Alright, I could do this.

It wasn't long after we got in that I started spotting the bikini moms that made me want to punch them in their six packs. I would point them out to Mark and then tell him they must be the nanny or the college babysitter. No one could have a baby or toddler and be that skinny again, it just not possible. Show me their stretch marks or pasty colored legs! Yes, obviously I have some issues if this is what bothers me while I should be enjoying my son's pool activities with him.

Speaking of Eli's pool experience. I am always entertained by his reactions to things. He had no problem getting in the cool water (though he immediately needed to be taken to the bathroom to pee upon seconds of entering the pool, he has great control!), since we were already melting from our car ride there. But he wasn't interested in the little slide or getting his head wet. Instead we made endless trips around the perimeter of the pool while Eli pointed out all the floating bugs and insisted I save them (I might have started this by saving a beetle in the first few minutes). Meanwhile, while baking in the sun (in my cellulite concealing shorts), I felt like a piece of fried chicken sitting in the food warmer of a fast food restaurant. Eli remained blissfully pale in his 50+ sunblock and his 18 month old swim trunks (yes, he is a little bit thin). Since the adult pools were not open to the public until noon, the toddler pool was bombarded by a bunch or rowdy little turds that kept diving in front of us and splashing us in the face. I had to curb my mean mommy instincts (not an easy task) and not scold each child that knocked Eli over.

After all the finer points of the pool had been fully enjoyed, we decided to pack it in and get back into our car to be broiled on the way home. Now that we have opened the pool activity door, Eli will be asking us to go there every day for the next 3 months. I better start doing some squats so those other moms don't feel comforted by calling me a beached whale. Maybe I should just get one of those one-piece suits with a little skirt attached... that would be on par with my daily sweat pants issue. When you see me at the pool in that, you will know I have just given up on life.