Entertaining Business

In our house, we like to be entertained. I'm constantly having to do something with my hands when I sit down, or I feel like I'm wasting time. If you look at our bathroom, you will find that there are a plethora of things to do while you are doing your "business". There are stacks of ESPN magazines and Reader's Digests, and the biggest time wasters of all: hand-held video games. If you are sitting on our uncomfortable toilet, you can have your choice of Tetris or poker. These will keep you in there long after you need to be. We have often had a guest come over and visit the bathroom long enough to make it an awkward absence, only to have them come out and curse about a lost Tetris game.

Eli has recently joined in the footsteps of his parents. I captured this moment before we left for preschool this morning. He prefers Tetris over poker. I'm awfully impressed by his balance and how he manages to keep his little butt out of the toilet. Notice his nice looking clothes - it was picture day!

Clumsy Poop

I must say, it is a very good thing God is looking out for me and protecting me all of the time because with my clumsy butt, I couldn't have made it this far any other way (it seems as though this protection has been extended to my very clumsy child[ren]).

I will give you a recent example which is both ridiculous and terrifying. Yesterday morning, while Eli was eating breakfast and I was sitting at the table with him holding Marina, nasty Lorenzo laid a nasty turd in the litter box in the bathroom directly behind me. As he has lost his manners and gained some laziness, he decided not to bury it (again!). The stench was nauseating so I decided to scoop some litter over it myself. We have very comfortable 1970's chairs in our kitchen that have wheels on the bottom, padded seats and backs, and that recline. So we can usually lean back and relax in the kitchen while we eat and wheel around to the fridge without ever really having to get up. I used this advantage to lean back in my chair and reach my right arm out to the litter box to do some scooping while my left arm securely cradled my daughter. Then suddenly, it seemed I had leaned back too far, because the chair tipped backward (the downfall of our comfortable chairs) and we went with it. Unbelievably, my grip on Marina never faltered and she remained securely pressed to me while I found myself lying head-first in front of the litter box (sick!), wondering what the heck just happened. A startled Marina cried for 5 seconds and then went right back to sleep while I pulled myself off the ground and righted the chair. I stood there dumbly for a moment trying to decide if I had been injured in any way. No bones broken. I had to dust cat litter out of my skinned elbow but that's all (maybe a little whip lash - but I can't decide if that is imagined). Eli surveyed the situation and asked me what I was doing, as if I was throwing myself on the floor for fun.

Later, as I told my sister of my adventure, she pointed out how lucky I was that nothing serious happened. I was alone in the house. I could have hit my head on the wood floor, or broken my arm, or even worse, dropped the baby. I am very thankful that not one of those things happened and our clumsy butts are safe to stumble again another day.

Thanks God, I will try not to make such stupid decisions in the future (I know, I've said this before...).

Can Your Impulses!

My son Eli is a constant source of entertainment and more recently mortification. I try to understand what makes him do the things he does every day. When I ask him why he suddenly throws something across the room, I'm consistently met with the answer "I don't know." Hmm...

Today I wanted to do something special that was just for him (giving him back some of the attention he lost to the baby) so we went to the Children's Museum. He did pretty well while we were there and even shared his toys with strangers, which is unusual for him (although he kept loudly calling them 'that kid'). But then on our way back to the parking lot, we had to walk through a large area that was under construction. It was lunch time and there were construction men sitting around eating lunch everywhere. Eli saw a can of Pepsi sitting on a curb (just opened, and presumably belonging to a thirsty worker) and decided to kick it. Pop went everywhere and the cold can went down into some nearby dirt. I gasped and quickly reprimanded my child. Then I looked around to see if someone was going to react but no one seemed to notice. So we walked on. I can imagine that later someone looking to quench their thirst was awfully irritated at the sight of their can lying sideways in the dirt (but really, was leaving your can on the curb a very good idea?).

Is it that toddlers have not yet mastered impulse control? At what age can we expect to greet this welcome change? Have I mastered impulse control yet? One wouldn't think so to observe me around any kind of baked goods. Maybe next time I walk by someone's can sitting on the ground, I'll kick it over, just to see how it feels. I'm with you Eli!

Lovely Labor

Warning! This blog is almost too long to read!

I just remembered that about a month ago, I promised I would share the exciting story of my labor (ok, maybe exciting is a bit much). I think now, I have enough distance that I can share the story, without too many boring details or annoying complaining.

Everyone always tells you that no two pregnancies and labors are the same. That might be true of my pregnancies - I got way fatter with Eli and had permanent cankles for 4 months, but the labors were very similar. In fact, I went into labor with Marina on the exact same day of pregnancy that I did with Eli - 37 weeks and 6 days. Just like before, my water broke with no other signs of labor. I didn't have that dramatic water breaking in middle of the grocery store moment, but rather sitting here at my desk at work, I thought I might have peed my pants a little. Since the same thing had happened with Eli, I pretty much knew what was going on, but was in a moment of denial. I was also alone in the office with 30 minutes left in my shift. I was pacing around the floor, having a struggle with responsibility versus instinct. I struck a compromise with myself and left 10 minutes early.


After running around the house for a few minutes like chickens with our heads cut off, Mark and I finally were able to get Eli to my mom's house and put him to bed before we went to the hospital. It's never like the movies with me. I'm never screaming in the back of a car or pacing around the house breathing through contractions. Instead I resented the wheel chair they made me ride in to get up to labor and delivery because I could walk just fine.

It was around 9 pm when I got changed and stationed in the hospital bed where I sat for endless hours waiting for a baby. They put me on pitocin and we waited for the contractions, which finally started to come around 1 am (they decided to show up in my back and front). Because I have an issue with my pride, I didn't want to ask for my epidural when I was only dilated to 2 but finally I said forget it, I'm not dealing with this pain for no reason. The anesthesiologist took his sweet time to get to my room and then put a huge needle in my back. My relief was pretty much immediate and I was much happier. Then I had sat in bed, waiting through the rest of the night. Mark and my mom were able to catch a few hours of uncomfortable sleep while I blindly watched Pride and Prejudice. Then at 5 am, the nurse came in to see if I needed anything. I told her I thought my epidural might be wearing off because I was feeling some pain down the left side of my body. She wasn't planning on checking me again for an hour since the last time at 4 am I was only 3 cm (I am a slow mover!) but then as an after thought she decided to check me again. Turns out in that hour I had dilated to 10 cm and we were ready to have a baby. She had someone else come in to double check since it was so unexpected.

The doctor got there a few minutes later and every one gathered around to watch. At this point I had no shame, I didn't even care if they told me to go running around naked through the hallways singing songs from Annie, I just wanted to get this show on the road! They instructed me not to move too much because this baby was about to fall out (just like with Eli). Then 1-1/2 pushes later, Marina shot out like a cannon and I was no longer pregnant. When I looked down and saw her, my first comment was something like "Holy crap, she's tiny!" Then they put her on my chest and I said "This is weird." I am not one for dramatic quotes in the heat of the moment.

She was born at 5:28 am but we had to stay in the delivery room until about 8 pm that night because there were no other rooms ready yet. My epidural wore off of my left side quickly but for some reason my right side took much longer. At one point, I thought I was fine to walk (again with the pride!), even though the nurses insist on helping, and I basically fell off the toilet in the bathroom, and had to be caught by the nurse - again, no room for shame or modesty during the birthing process. It was funny, I was a "Call, don't fall victim". I'm too young to be having falling accidents in the bathroom!

Since we weren't getting any sleep in the hospital and I thought our room looked like a dorm room from 1975 (the shower spout came up to my shoulders so I had to bend backwards to wash my hair), I got permission to leave early. So home we went to start our new lives the very next afternoon.

There you have it! Luckily my labors have been relatively easy, or I wouldn't have been crazy enough to go back for round two!

Craptastic Days

There are some days where I think I can handle being the mother of more than one child. Then there are other days like today, where I think this must be some kind of joke on me.

Marina slept extremely well last night. That was a welcome plus. But then at 6 am, I awoke to the sounds of Eli screaming "NOOO!" repeatedly in his room. I comforted him and told him he was just having a bad dream and then tried to trick him into thinking it was still night so he would go back to sleep. I got back into bed and closed my eyes only to hear him whining 30 seconds later. Finally, after several more failed attempts, I gave up and let him come into our bed and watch cartoons while I slipped in and out of consciousness and Marina kept sleeping in her bassinet nearby.

We eventually got up and started our day. Later, as I was urging Eli to get moving so we could go to the grocery store, he inexplicably hurled himself toward me. His giant head made violent contact with my upper lip (and the tooth behind it). For a moment I thought I had lost my tooth and my mind raced furiously, envisioning scenarios of gap-toothedness. But upon inspection in the mirror, I found my tooth to be sound, though my lip looked battered and swollen. Eli apologized to me throughout the day, which was very cute and sad. He would say, "Mommy, I didn't mean to hit you in the face earlier. It was an accident." Of course I told him I forgave him and that I looked much prettier with thick lips.

Then came the afternoon. Eli took a rare nap but decided at the end of it to poop in his Pull-Up diaper (I don't trust him in underwear for naps - and this is why). Lately, he has been in the habit of taking off his own diaper after sleeping and putting it in the bathroom garbage can (then I take it out later) then coming to find me. I heard some noise upstairs after his nap, but I was feeding Marina so I could only ask Eli what he was doing. He didn't answer me. Then a few minutes later he called down and told me he couldn't get this mess cleaned up. I asked him what mess, while passionately hoping he meant a mess of toys in his room. He told me that the mess was too big for him to clean up with the towel. This set the alarms in my head off. I asked him if it was a mess in the bathroom. Yes, he answered. I ran up the stairs, baby in arms, to assess the situation. He stood in the bathroom with no pants on. I asked him where the mess was. He told me it was underneath the high-quality bath towel that lay on the floor. I picked it up to reveal the discarded Pull-Up with a large ball of poop next to it and several smash marks on the ground next to the bath mat (I assume the towel failed at the clean up here). This was very displeasing to me. I had to be at work in 15 minutes and was waiting for Mark to get home to make our daily quick child exchange. I considered carefully what I should do. The thought occurred to me that I could stand there long enough for Mark to arrive and he could handle this situation but then I realized that was a pretty "crappy" thing to do to him. So, I put the baby in her bassinet and started the clean up. I used toilet paper to put the poop chunk in the toilet (Eli immediately insisted I should let him do the flushing, but I denied him this privilege as I thought he should not be rewarded). The floor had to go through an extreme scrub-down. I had to wipe and sanitize Eli since he had track marks everywhere. Then I saw a butt crack shaped stain on the carpet at the top of the stairs where I bet Eli sat down to contemplate his big problem before communicating it to his mother.

By the time Mark came in, there was a screaming baby in one room, a half-naked guilty-looking toddler standing in front of the bathroom, unsure of what he should be doing and a frazzled, crazy woman surrounded by poop-smelling plastic bags filled with trash scrubbing at the carpet in the hallway. When I heard the door open, I called down to him and asked him to come up because we "have a bit of a problem".

Eli was ushered into the bath while a comforted Marina sat in her bouncy seat, observing the proceedings. After repeatedly washing my hands, I ran out of the house, looking extremely unkempt, already late for work. No time for make up or hair brushes today! There would be no way to explain the last twenty minutes of my life in an effort to make an excuse for myself.

So, yes, there are some days (like today) where being a mom stinks (literally), but then I will get home and get a snuggle from my kids and think I can handle this for another day. Hopefully tomorrow all the poop will be in the toilet and I won't get peed on our punched.

Sleep Stories

Two funny things that I saw today...

My daughter trying to subtly tell me not to wake her up...

And a 3-year-old that insists he no longer needs naps suddenly goes quiet when playing in his room. As I walk up the stairs to check on him, I see some feet hanging over the first step.

Veggie Tales!

If you have a child who has a talent for memorizing songs and singing them back to you in an extremely loud and shrill voice, you should exploit him by taking video of his performances and send it on to Star Search. This is so long and repetitive that only family members will make it to the end. You may also want to play and replay the video if you need to punish someone...

It's Snot Fair

I am not someone that gets spa treatments all the time. I wish I had enough money to be one of those people, but unfortunately it is frowned upon for Mommy to go for a massage or manicure with the grocery money. So, needless to say, the times I get to treat myself are rare and much anticipated.

Last Christmas, my sister bought me a gift certificate for a massage. Days later, I found out I was pregnant, so I saved the gift for a later date. For nine months, I looked at the gift certificate and considered when I should use it, but every time I thought I would save it until I was really uncomfortable. Then at the end of the nine months, when I was feeling too fat and cumbersome, so I decided I would save the treat until after I had the baby; then I could lie on my stomach and get the full effect. This last Saturday, the day finally arrived and I was able to use the gift certificate. Luckily, at the last minute, I remembered to shave my legs!

Let me preface the rest of this story with an aside. My track record with massages is a bit humorous. There is always some sort of impediment to relaxation. The last one I had was about 2 years ago, but I have a strong memory of it. It turns out I had a serious amount of gas that day and allowing my body to fully relax was not a great idea. The girl told me several times that I was tense, but I thought it better not to release the muscles around my butt. Because of this, the full benefit of the hour long massage was never realized.

Back to current day. I felt that I was mentally prepared for a nice, relaxing time. Then, as I stood and undressed in the fragrant, soothing room, it occurred to me that it might be a good time to blow my nose (I had a snot reservoir left from a recent cold). I searched around for a box of Kleenex but there was not one to be found. I couldn't look for too long, because my masseuse would soon be back in and I would be caught standing naked instead of comfortably installed under the sheet. The instant I stuck my face in the toweled face-rest (shaped like a bagel), I knew we would have a problem and there would be no relaxing today. The snot faucet turned on and the downward pull of gravity did it's damage. I had to breathe only out of my mouth and needed desperately to wipe, but I didn't want to move my arm. I kept trying to think of how I could be sneaky about it, but there was no way. In misery, I kept lying perfectly still as the drops hung off my nostril holes. At one point, I tried lifting my head slightly and wiping the flow on the face towel, but should have considered that move more carefully. All the action did was wipe a huge line of snot across my cheek before I put my face back in the hole. I had a bit more relief when I rolled onto my back but not much. I didn't want to be noisily sniffing so I kept breathing only from my mouth. Dang, why was I too wimpy to ask for a Kleenex in the middle of a massage? Too deep of a question to fully consider or answer...

Once again, my efforts to relax had been foiled. I would have to go back home and breathe deeply while Eli pegged me in the head with a bouncy ball and Marina sprayed poop on my hands while I changed her. Oh well, I think I work better when I'm tense. At least I'm always on high-alert to handle life's daily challenges - like snot attacks.

Mom Times Two

Below is an excerpt from How to Be a Highly Effective Mother of Two, Volume One

- Manual by proven expert Lily Clinton

The following strategies seem to be extremely useful when raising two children. Since I am extraordinarily wise and resourceful, I am able to write a manual to share this knowledge after being a mother of multiple children for five long days.

- Be sure to nurse your newborn in front of your mouthy toddler so he can use phrases like "eating boobie" and add the insult "nipple face" to the list of names he calls people.

- Lock your cats out of your bedroom for the first time in their lives so they can stand at the door all night and scream and try to rip out the carpet with their claws.

- Come home from the hospital and immediately try on all of your old jeans and then sink into a profound body-related depression

- Allow your toddler to have over 20 stuffed animals on his bed so when you want him to nap, he will sit in the semi-darkness and play with all his "friends" and never sleep

- Consider taking a shower a luxury that will no longer be accessible to you

- Put your light-weight newborn in a swing that your toddler cannot seem to resist aggressively pushing in order to "help". That way, you feel comfortable every time you have to walk out of the room for any reason.

And most importantly, grossly over-estimate your abilities as a mother so you will be foolish enough to attempt to keep things under control every day instead of hiring a nanny with your grocery money.