And this is only part of it. There were two more walls in the hall that had hand swipes and a couple more toys in his bedroom. His face, belly, legs, and bum were all covered in it as well.
The culprit is still in his room. Possibly until forever.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
My Life is Just Different Variations of Poop
Lest you think my life has gotten easier, I give you these photos.
And this is only part of it. There were two more walls in the hall that had hand swipes and a couple more toys in his bedroom. His face, belly, legs, and bum were all covered in it as well.
The culprit is still in his room. Possibly until forever.
And this is only part of it. There were two more walls in the hall that had hand swipes and a couple more toys in his bedroom. His face, belly, legs, and bum were all covered in it as well.
The culprit is still in his room. Possibly until forever.
Friday, July 1, 2011
A Letter to a Number
Dear 30,
Let's be honest with each other shall we? I come closer to meeting you with each passing day...really, there is less than a year and half left... and I find myself alternately excited and terrified for that day when we have to reconcile with one another. Perhaps we will embrace as sisters. Perhaps I will slap you upside the head and deny your existence. Perhaps a little of both. I'm not sure I will be able to full know how I feel about you until I am off to greet 40-- and we all know how I feel about 40.
You know, you are kind of big deal; a rather rotund number, if you'll allow me to say it. I have been taught to harbor anxiety about you my whole life. I'm serious. I believe the wrinkles, weight, and responsibility, all have something to do with it, though I know that is not all of it. There is something unseen and unfixed about you that adds to the anxiety. Maybe it is purely the uncertainty of change...of knowing I will never be friends with 20 again and that maybe I didn't do all I could to make 20 more beautiful. Because, let's face it, I've been a little rough on 20. She needed some shaping and molding and some figuring out who she was and how she fit into the world. And she's still not there yet.
Maybe that's where you come in, 30. I hope that's where you come in. Maybe you can be the fairy dust that gives a little confidence to 20. Makes her less concerned with what other people think. Please tell me the day I meet you is the day 20 stops worrying about every word she says. The day she makes choices for herself and not for other people. The day she loves her body because it a beautiful miracle, instead of wishing this was toned and that was thinner. Can you do that for me 30? Can you have this whole life thing figured out? Please say yes, because if you can't do it, is there really any point in appealing to 40? She's so far away and I'm not sure 20 can wait that long.
I'm counting on you 30 to do your part. I'm counting on you to be beautiful and lovely and wise. If you aren't, I'm pretty sure 20 is going to throw a fit. Did you know she still does that?
Keep in touch.
Me
Let's be honest with each other shall we? I come closer to meeting you with each passing day...really, there is less than a year and half left... and I find myself alternately excited and terrified for that day when we have to reconcile with one another. Perhaps we will embrace as sisters. Perhaps I will slap you upside the head and deny your existence. Perhaps a little of both. I'm not sure I will be able to full know how I feel about you until I am off to greet 40-- and we all know how I feel about 40.
You know, you are kind of big deal; a rather rotund number, if you'll allow me to say it. I have been taught to harbor anxiety about you my whole life. I'm serious. I believe the wrinkles, weight, and responsibility, all have something to do with it, though I know that is not all of it. There is something unseen and unfixed about you that adds to the anxiety. Maybe it is purely the uncertainty of change...of knowing I will never be friends with 20 again and that maybe I didn't do all I could to make 20 more beautiful. Because, let's face it, I've been a little rough on 20. She needed some shaping and molding and some figuring out who she was and how she fit into the world. And she's still not there yet.
Maybe that's where you come in, 30. I hope that's where you come in. Maybe you can be the fairy dust that gives a little confidence to 20. Makes her less concerned with what other people think. Please tell me the day I meet you is the day 20 stops worrying about every word she says. The day she makes choices for herself and not for other people. The day she loves her body because it a beautiful miracle, instead of wishing this was toned and that was thinner. Can you do that for me 30? Can you have this whole life thing figured out? Please say yes, because if you can't do it, is there really any point in appealing to 40? She's so far away and I'm not sure 20 can wait that long.
I'm counting on you 30 to do your part. I'm counting on you to be beautiful and lovely and wise. If you aren't, I'm pretty sure 20 is going to throw a fit. Did you know she still does that?
Keep in touch.
Me
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Well, crap.
Dear Jacob,
The walls? Really? I know you are tactile and curious and that often those things don't end well, but I'm beginning to think you might have a problem. Can you please take up another form of artistic expression? Or at least use another medium--like Vaseline.
Love from,
The one who has to clean it up.
P.S. Please don't really use the Vaseline, Mommy might die.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Healthy Eating Habits for Kids
I haven't shared this website yet, but lately it has been my go-to site for ideas on healthy meals that are also kid friendly. Amy has some FANTASTIC ideas on presenting foods in a way kids will eat them (or at least try them) and I'm trying to incorporate her menu planning ideas as well so that we can amp up our vegetable intake.
Anyway, without further ado, here is the fabulous: SUPER HEALTHY KIDS
*Check out her Healthy Habits plates as well. I think I'm going to order four so the kids can have two each.
Anyway, without further ado, here is the fabulous: SUPER HEALTHY KIDS
*Check out her Healthy Habits plates as well. I think I'm going to order four so the kids can have two each.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Answered
Chris has this nasty habit of getting all road-ragey on people if they do stupid stuff while driving. He wholeheartedly believes he has to be the one to let them know they are dumb. For instance, if they cut him off, he will cut them off on purpose to let them know how inconsiderate it was of them to do such a thing. Thoughtful eh?
I won't lie, sometimes this scares the innards out of me.
When we were first married, I used to be all gaspy about it. I gasped so often though that it started to sound like I was hyperventilating every time he drove the car and it annoyed him further.
So, one evening, a couple of years in, I was gasping again and white-knuckling the please-don't-let-me-die bar and I started to pray in my head and in my heart. I prayed harder than I've ever prayed in my life. It was more begging than praying really, but still, I was petitioning the Lord to come to my aid.
I didn't pray for us not to die.
I didn't pray for Chris to slow down and come to his senses.
I prayed specifically for him to get pulled over for wreckless driving and get a big fat ticket and possibly even go to jail for 24 hours and that this would make him never want to drive fast again. I knew if we were going to live and if the Lord was going to help Chris overcome his weakness, He was going to have to do it through his pocketbook and his pride.
Every single time after that when he would let his anger drive the car, I would brace my feet against the floor, grab the seat with one hand and the bar with the other, and I would silently plead with God for a cop to pull Chris over and give him a ticket.
Maybe it is dumb to pray for something like that, but I knew that either:
A) we were going to die in a fiery car crash from hell and I had to be okay with going out like that
or
B) I needed help to get this fixed
I chose B.
Welp, it took about five more years, but the Lord finally answered my prayers. Chris got pulled over a couple of weeks ago going 51 in a 30 mph zone. He got a fat $238 speeding ticket and a court date.
When he came home mopey about getting the ticket, I tried not to be too overtly happy. But seriously, I was just giddy with delight! I stopped then and there and gave a silent heartfelt prayer of thanks.
His pride is a little injured, but he has slowed down and been super careful lately. We might just live long enough to find a new and seriously painful way to die without all the skidding on the road and being impaled by car parts. I couldn't be more joyous!
I won't lie, sometimes this scares the innards out of me.
When we were first married, I used to be all gaspy about it. I gasped so often though that it started to sound like I was hyperventilating every time he drove the car and it annoyed him further.
So, one evening, a couple of years in, I was gasping again and white-knuckling the please-don't-let-me-die bar and I started to pray in my head and in my heart. I prayed harder than I've ever prayed in my life. It was more begging than praying really, but still, I was petitioning the Lord to come to my aid.
I didn't pray for us not to die.
I didn't pray for Chris to slow down and come to his senses.
I prayed specifically for him to get pulled over for wreckless driving and get a big fat ticket and possibly even go to jail for 24 hours and that this would make him never want to drive fast again. I knew if we were going to live and if the Lord was going to help Chris overcome his weakness, He was going to have to do it through his pocketbook and his pride.
Every single time after that when he would let his anger drive the car, I would brace my feet against the floor, grab the seat with one hand and the bar with the other, and I would silently plead with God for a cop to pull Chris over and give him a ticket.
Maybe it is dumb to pray for something like that, but I knew that either:
A) we were going to die in a fiery car crash from hell and I had to be okay with going out like that
or
B) I needed help to get this fixed
I chose B.
Welp, it took about five more years, but the Lord finally answered my prayers. Chris got pulled over a couple of weeks ago going 51 in a 30 mph zone. He got a fat $238 speeding ticket and a court date.
When he came home mopey about getting the ticket, I tried not to be too overtly happy. But seriously, I was just giddy with delight! I stopped then and there and gave a silent heartfelt prayer of thanks.
His pride is a little injured, but he has slowed down and been super careful lately. We might just live long enough to find a new and seriously painful way to die without all the skidding on the road and being impaled by car parts. I couldn't be more joyous!
Monday, March 14, 2011
Repeat
There was one time when Luke was two-years-old that he flooded the upstairs bathroom. He had somehow splashed enough water out of the tub to create a shallow pond on the tile floor.
Today it was Jacob's turn. I went to clean up his other mess, involving playdoh and the grout downstairs, while he splashed around in the tub for a minute. Suddenly, I heard the distinct sound of the toilet lid being played with. I rushed back to the bathroom and pushed open the door.
He was giddy with joy while bailing water out of the tub with the hair-washing cup at the rate of a sailor whose dingy is sinking. There was no less than ankle deep water the entire length of the bathroom. It was seeping through the carpet on the other side of the door and down through the downstairs ceiling.
I froze. Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Clearly I'm a wiz in situations like this.
I grabbed the cup from him and tried to bail the water back into tub. He got mad, then he got even. Now out of the tub, he started jumping in the man-made mischief. Water splashed halfway up the walls.
I yelled for Luke to come bail water so that I could get some towels. He deserted his post on the grounds that he didn't want to get wet. Traitor. I ran downstairs and ran back up. It took about 9 towels and 15 minutes of bailing to get the water absorbed.
I'm trying to remember why I thought Luke was harder at the age of three instead of two. If the last month is any indication, Jacob may kill me if he follows trend and becomes even more difficult at three.
Today it was Jacob's turn. I went to clean up his other mess, involving playdoh and the grout downstairs, while he splashed around in the tub for a minute. Suddenly, I heard the distinct sound of the toilet lid being played with. I rushed back to the bathroom and pushed open the door.
He was giddy with joy while bailing water out of the tub with the hair-washing cup at the rate of a sailor whose dingy is sinking. There was no less than ankle deep water the entire length of the bathroom. It was seeping through the carpet on the other side of the door and down through the downstairs ceiling.
I froze. Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! Clearly I'm a wiz in situations like this.
I grabbed the cup from him and tried to bail the water back into tub. He got mad, then he got even. Now out of the tub, he started jumping in the man-made mischief. Water splashed halfway up the walls.
I yelled for Luke to come bail water so that I could get some towels. He deserted his post on the grounds that he didn't want to get wet. Traitor. I ran downstairs and ran back up. It took about 9 towels and 15 minutes of bailing to get the water absorbed.
I'm trying to remember why I thought Luke was harder at the age of three instead of two. If the last month is any indication, Jacob may kill me if he follows trend and becomes even more difficult at three.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
You Can't Make This Stuff Up...
Hi Ladies and Gents! Let's round out Poop Week, shall we, and continue with more stories you never wanted to hear...
Story #1
A day after the go-in-the-woods incident with Luke at the park, we went to a new park the next day (I won't tell you which one in case you don't ever want to go back). This park also lacks bathroom facilities for reasons I can't explain. Unfortunately, it also lacks proper woods-y-ness (that's a word). Ten minutes into being there, Luke had to go potty.
Looking around uncomfortably, I hissed, "Luke, scoot closer to the tree, buddy, there are a lot of other people here."
He moved two inches and proceeded to pull his pants down around his ankles. I could tell his bare bum was still visible to the passersby.
"Don't go! Don't go!" I said urgently, while at the same time trying to pull him closer to the tree. Lamentably, this action coincided with the exact moment that he started to pee and caused him to fall forward and turn sideways so that I was in the line of fire.
He peed all over my leg and foot.
I trudged off toward the car and retrieved some diaper wipes and cleaned myself up as best I could. I didn't want to leave yet, the weather was too nice and Luke was already frolicking around like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Ten minutes later he had to go again. I sent him behind the tree by himself.
"Mom! Mom!"
He had sidled into view with his bare bum.
I hurried over.
"What's the matter?"
Then I saw it. He had gone number 2. For a second I didn't know what I was going to do...I couldn't just leave it there. So I ran over, grabbed the wipes, wiped Luke's bum, and sent him off. I then proceeded to pick up the stuff and put it in one of Jacob's clean diapers so that it could be thrown away. I wiped down the dirt around the tree as best I could, hoping no unsuspecting child decided to hide back there.
That day was the highlight of my week.
Story #2
A few days later, Jacob was wet so I managed to take off his diaper and wipe him down before he ran away from me. I spent a few minutes trying to wrestle him into a new diaper before I gave up and decided he would be okay for a minute while I ran down to throw the diaper away in the outside trash.
As soon as I came in the door he was calling to me and I knew I had made a mistake.
"Bum! Yucky! Bum! Yucky!"
I took the stairs two at a time and he grabbed my hand to lead me into his room. I think he was genuinely a little bit frightened of what had happened. There in the middle of his floor was some poop. It looked eerily similar to something a cat would leave behind.
I'm just that lucky.
Story #3
Last night I had a couple of very vivid dreams. The first involved my children and I staying the night at my high school boyfriend's parent's house. I'm not sure why. The high school boyfriend wasn't there, just his parents and a couple of his sisters.
A little background info... I'm pretty sure these people thought I was the devil in high school.
So back to the dream.
As I laid Jacob down on their carpet to change him, he squirmed around and poop got all. over. the. floor. I frantically asked for carpet cleaner. They didn't have any. So I tried to wipe down the floor with wipes, only to make the carpet a wonderful shade of mustard yellow. All the fears about them hating me in high school washed over my brain as I woke up.
I drifted back to sleep after a few minutes of reassuring myself that it was just a terrible nightmare, only to find myself in another dream that I'm pretty sure is the manifestation of my feelings for this week.
A very large alligator was thrashing around in a shallow river while unconcerned children were floating in inner tubes dangerously close to it.
Do you have weeks like this?
Story #1
A day after the go-in-the-woods incident with Luke at the park, we went to a new park the next day (I won't tell you which one in case you don't ever want to go back). This park also lacks bathroom facilities for reasons I can't explain. Unfortunately, it also lacks proper woods-y-ness (that's a word). Ten minutes into being there, Luke had to go potty.
Looking around uncomfortably, I hissed, "Luke, scoot closer to the tree, buddy, there are a lot of other people here."
He moved two inches and proceeded to pull his pants down around his ankles. I could tell his bare bum was still visible to the passersby.
"Don't go! Don't go!" I said urgently, while at the same time trying to pull him closer to the tree. Lamentably, this action coincided with the exact moment that he started to pee and caused him to fall forward and turn sideways so that I was in the line of fire.
He peed all over my leg and foot.
I trudged off toward the car and retrieved some diaper wipes and cleaned myself up as best I could. I didn't want to leave yet, the weather was too nice and Luke was already frolicking around like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Ten minutes later he had to go again. I sent him behind the tree by himself.
"Mom! Mom!"
He had sidled into view with his bare bum.
I hurried over.
"What's the matter?"
Then I saw it. He had gone number 2. For a second I didn't know what I was going to do...I couldn't just leave it there. So I ran over, grabbed the wipes, wiped Luke's bum, and sent him off. I then proceeded to pick up the stuff and put it in one of Jacob's clean diapers so that it could be thrown away. I wiped down the dirt around the tree as best I could, hoping no unsuspecting child decided to hide back there.
That day was the highlight of my week.
Story #2
A few days later, Jacob was wet so I managed to take off his diaper and wipe him down before he ran away from me. I spent a few minutes trying to wrestle him into a new diaper before I gave up and decided he would be okay for a minute while I ran down to throw the diaper away in the outside trash.
As soon as I came in the door he was calling to me and I knew I had made a mistake.
"Bum! Yucky! Bum! Yucky!"
I took the stairs two at a time and he grabbed my hand to lead me into his room. I think he was genuinely a little bit frightened of what had happened. There in the middle of his floor was some poop. It looked eerily similar to something a cat would leave behind.
I'm just that lucky.
Story #3
Last night I had a couple of very vivid dreams. The first involved my children and I staying the night at my high school boyfriend's parent's house. I'm not sure why. The high school boyfriend wasn't there, just his parents and a couple of his sisters.
A little background info... I'm pretty sure these people thought I was the devil in high school.
So back to the dream.
As I laid Jacob down on their carpet to change him, he squirmed around and poop got all. over. the. floor. I frantically asked for carpet cleaner. They didn't have any. So I tried to wipe down the floor with wipes, only to make the carpet a wonderful shade of mustard yellow. All the fears about them hating me in high school washed over my brain as I woke up.
I drifted back to sleep after a few minutes of reassuring myself that it was just a terrible nightmare, only to find myself in another dream that I'm pretty sure is the manifestation of my feelings for this week.
A very large alligator was thrashing around in a shallow river while unconcerned children were floating in inner tubes dangerously close to it.
Do you have weeks like this?
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