OMG

Who called it?!

Right up the back. Right. Up. The. BACK. I had to cut his shirt off of him. It was that or smear poop through his hair, and that was just too gross to comtemplate, especially when the shirt was almost too small, anyway. Thank God he didn’t do THAT on the plane. :S

It’s just a good thing he’s cute:

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And All That Crap

I really need for this baby to poop. We are less than 48 hours from leaving on a Westjet plane to go to AJ’s graduation (about damn time, says I), and he hasn’t gone for at least 3 days (Ike, not AJ). I swear he’s trying to save it up for the plane ride, probably just after take-off. I hate those stupid, teeny-tiny airplane phonebooths bathrooms, especially for diaper changes.

I just put him in the exersaucer, not because he likes it- he’s actually somewhat opposed to being contained anywhere not that he’s a man on the move. He has a history, though, of waiting until he’s in that thing and then pooping right up his back. I’m not sure if this is because standing up makes him go, or if (as I suspect) it’s purely for dramatic effect. Either way, I’ve got my fingers crossed.

 

ps- new post at mommyhood confidential

Potty Problems

Too much to think about. Simon is three now, and he’s not potty-trained. He’s not ready. He’s not dry in the morning, and if he has no pants/ diaper on, he doesn’t seem aware of when he’s going to pee. If he doesn’t know when he’s going to go, I can only see frustration in our future if I try to get him into “big boy underpants”.

Norah, on the other hand (his 2 1/2 year old cousin who lives here with us), is ready. She’s been working on this whole potty thing for about a week; she’s doing really well with it. She’s got peeing down to a science now. Poop’s a problem- she doesn’t want to do it on the can, and the rest of us don’t want her doing it in her pants, so it’s a bit of an impasse at the moment. She’s on day 3 of holding it… you may not want me to keep you updated on this one.

Simon seems to understand what Norah’s doing; he just doesn’t see how it applies to him- with one exception. Norah gets stickers when she goes on the potty, and after 10 stickers, she got a prize: a pink toy car. Simon wanted a car, too, but I told him that Noah got it for going poo on the potty, and he’d get a car when he went poo on the potty (I’m saying “poo” more these days than I ever have before- it’s sick). A few minutes later, he was standing beside the toilet, crying.

“Go poo potty get car! Go poo potty get car! GO POO POTTY GET CAR!”

It was worth a shot, right? I took his diaper off and sat him on the Go Diego, Go! potty seat. He grunted and groaned. “Gooooo poooo… caaaar pooooo potty! Get car poo pottyyyyyy…. arrrrrrrgh!” This tragic display went on for about 30 seconds before he gave up. At least he’s getting the idea of rewards for performance, if not exactly how to go about performing the required, um… movements?

If he doesn’t get it in the next 2 months, we’ll be faced with moving again, which I suspect will set back the clock on any progress we’ve made. We’ll be changing houses, he’ll be getting his Daddy back (good, but different), and losing most of the people he’s used to seeing every day. I can see how all of that would make a guy want to be a baby for just a little bit longer.

8:28 a.m.

Uuuuuuunnnngh.

How is it possible that it’s only 8:30 in the morning*? About an hour ago Dad said to me, “There’s car racing on TV at 8:00, if you think Simon would be interested.” I stared at him. I blinked a few times.

“You mean, like, 8:00 tonight?”

“No- this morning.”

I was shocked. Stunned (yeah, I know what “stunned” means in NL- both definitions apply here). Aghast. “You mean it’s not even 8:00 yet?! NOOOOOOO!”

It felt like it should’ve been about 10:00. I guess my first clue should’ve been that mom and dad were, in fact, still at home and not on their way to the first of mom’s 3 services for the day. My brain, she don’a work’a so good on’a no sleep. Friends, it’s going to be a looooong day.

Oh- as for the rest of last night: I eventually got to bed after Ike fell asleep on his own- stuck his pacifier in his own face and everything. How… odd. Not that there was anything normal about last night, of course. Simon slept until some unreasonably early hour this morning; Isaac and I were already up. Isaac, who still DOES NOT want a pacifier at night. If I give him one when he’s crying (instead of his beloved BOOOOOOB), he settles for a second, and then starts twitching… and kicking… and sucking harder. Then: WAAAAAAH! Mommy, you tricked me!

So yeah, I’m tired. The good news is that it is officially less than 5 weeks until I see AJ again! I miss him so much that sometimes it gives me a stomach ache. It’s been worse since I saw him in August, and I imagine it’s only going to get worse as we get closer to his graduation. It’s reminding me of what it was like to be a kid with Christmas coming, except that instead of baking cookies and putting out the Nativity scene, I’ll be starting to pack boxes and looking into address changes/ new health cards, etc. Whoopee.

*Note that I did not say “8:30 a.m. in the morning.” I kind of laugh when people do that.

Simon

It’s 1:25 a.m., and here I sit at the computer with a hungry baby stuck to me. Why am I up instead of in bed with him? Because Simon is a sick little boy. Right- the one who’s not currently sucking my will to live along with his milk is the reason I’m up. OK, it’s not that bad, but it IS late… or early…

Simon had a really bad night last night. I was up with him several times when he woke up crying, and he felt very warm. I couldn’t give him anything for fever because he’s had cold medicine for his runny nose and cough that already had Tylenol in it, so I just cuddled my little human furnace until he was ready to go back to bed each time.

Today (actually, it’s yesterday now) was a baaaad day for him. Feverish all morning, and then a pretty good nap, but he woke up still feeling icky. I wanted him to eat something (since he hadn’t all day), so we went to Wendy’s and I got him his “chinken an’ fwies,” which he LOVES- and he didn’t touch it. He dipped his finger in the ketchup a few times and licked it, but that’s it. He didn’t even want “donnun” (doughnut), another of his favourites.

He perked up a little this evening, after watching “Yellow Submarine” and not having any supper. He went to bed without any problems (which is more than I can say for Isaac!) and went to sleep. I was expecting a good night.

Then Isaac woke me up. He did not want a pacifier, thank you very much, he wanted BOOB. He had his snack and went back to his own bed without ever really waking up.

Then Simon was crying and calling me, so I got up. He wanted a cuddle and something to drink, so we sat on the couch while he had apple juice, and then he went back to bed. Then Isaac got me up two more times- he’s got gas, I think. Then Simon was crying again, and he was quite upset, so up I got. He wanted to “go couch, go couch!” so I scooped him up. Just after we got out of his bedroom, though…

BLAAAAARRRFFF!  *SPLAT!*

Up came most of his apple juice, all over the floor and all over me. Mom heard the SPLAT on the floor and came out to help me; she sat with Simon while I got him some gravol, cleaned up the mess and changed my shirt. Back to bed again.

    2:13 a.m.

Oops- he did it again. I was sitting here, typing what you just read, when he started crying. Unfortunately, this woke Isaac up, and he was looking around like, Whoa, it’s dark, man. I put him in his crib, anyway.

Back to Simon’s room. “What’s the matter, Sweetheart?”

BLARF!

Oh.

So I got him up again and knocked on mom and dad’s bedroom door; mom got Isaac and sat with both of the boys while I cleaned up Simon’s sheets and friends (only a few casualties: Tiegit, McQueen and Polar Bear) and while I folded SOMEONE’S laundry so I could move the other laundry into the dryer so I could put Simon’s stuff in the wash, and changed my shirt again. At, and least  I’m productive.

Mission almost accomplished: Simon is back in bed and asleep. The mess is cleaned up. The only thing is, Ike is still awake. He’s lying on my bed right now, watching the mobile adnd starting to get mad at me for leaving him there. He thinks he just had a lovely nap, and now it’s awake time.  

This is why we try not to waske Isaac up at night.  :/

Good Day, Bad Day

It’s amazing how your life can change in 24 hours, especially with little kids around. Yesterday at lunchtime we were on our way back from a successful trip to “Once Upon a Child,” where we found fall clothes for both boys, got a couple of cheap used toys, and just enjoyed some time out of the house. After lunch it was nap time, and I actually got to lie down for a while, even if there was this baby who wouldn’t sleep without being in bed with me (and waking me up every 10 minutes). The boys and I went to Ikea around 5:00, again just for the sake of getting out of the house… also to get Simon “Ott dog? Ott dog?” He likes Ott dogs.

I can’t believe I went to Ikea and only spent $20. I guess it helps that we’re not going to have a lot of vehicle space when we move in November, but I DID put a few things back that I picked up because we don’t have the money. I’m proud of myself, even if I’ll probably go back for that picture. And the message board. And Norah’s Christmas present.

What’s even more amazing is what a good boy Simon was. He was very patient about sitting in the buggy while we looked around the Marketplace, and he LOVED looking at the toys, the kids’ furniture, the fake bedrooms, etc. But not long after we got to that stuff, Ike pooped. Not a little, not-so-bad-smelling baby poop, either. This was a stench that wafted from his diaper and made my eyes water as it drew glances from nearby shoppers. It had to be changed ASAP… have you ever tried to remove a 3-year old from a wonderful new discovery he’s made? Tantrum city, even if you promise that you’ll bring him right back. That’s why I was so surprised when I explained the situation to Simon… and he came to the bathroom with me. And stayed in the stall with me while I changed Isaac’s diaper (even if he was busy checking out the diaper disposal unit-eeew). And waited while I washed my hands, which is rather awkward when you have a baby in one arm. It was almost like he actually listened to me, understood what I said, and decided to go to a place he didn’t want to be rather than making a scene about staying with the HIMMELSK, the NYFIKEN and the BARNSLIG KROKODIL. Craaaazy, man.

But, as if the universe is trying to prove some point about kids being kids, I have a cranky, irrational, screeching creature inhabiting my son’s body today. He was awake crying a few times last night, and I was up with him (though not for long) when dad got up for work at 5:00 this morning. I’ve tried to get him to go back to bed- no dice. He’d rather be miserable and cry over spilled Nutri-Grain “cookies,” thanks very much. Isaac, on the other hand… is a cranky, irrational, screeching creature. He had a rough night, too. The kid needs to start eating more actual food during the day so he’ll at least be satisfied with a pacifier at night (maybe). He’s caught Norah’s cold, possibly because she likes to stick his pacifier in her mouth and then leave it where he can get it; just a theory, there. He’s got a runny nose, and it’s making him miserable and restless. He also has gas. And he bonked his head.

Holy crap, there’s a “digger” in the back neighbour’s yard. Weird.

What was I saying? Oh- the boys. So yeah, where yesterday I had two nearly perfect angels, today I have, if not demons, at least some lower (higher?) form of Satan’s minions screaming in the living room.

OK, I have to go get Simon and show him this digger- his eyes might literally* pop out of his head. And really, who doesn’t want THAT to happen to her kid?

 

*Yes, I am aware of the meaning of the word “literally”- though I know it gets misused a lot. I’m joking. Literally.

Trouble with Toting Tots… and Tea

My great-grandmother used to be so proud of my posture. Before I had kids, it was really excellent- ears in line with shoulders, hips, knees… whatever it’s supposed to be. I didn’t tend to sit all schlumped over, either.

Now? Well, now it’s… less good. My shoulders sag forward, my spine rounded between them. I get lower-back aches. My head leans too far forward. Why? CHILDREN.

Pregnancy messes with your posture to begin with; how can it not, when you’ve got 20+ extra pounds in front (OK, and some to balance it in the rear, but not quite enough)? Your lower spine gets compressed, especially if you’re on your feet all day. Then, once the baby’s born, there’s the issue of STILL having extra weight on the front, when you’re carrying a baby around. And that baby, he ain’t getting smaller. If all goes well, he is, in fact, getting heavier every day. If you have one who likes to be held, it’s just too hard to keep your chin up and your shoulders back. By the time Isaac’s walking, I’m going to look like Quasimodo.

I know, I know- I should be exercising, doing yoga or Pilates or something to straighten me out. As soon as I find time to do that, I’ll get right on it.

I’m seeing a chiropractor right now, and he’s been a life-saver. When Isaac was 2 months old, I was still having wicked backaches and headaches. Apparently I had just about the tightest lower back the doctor had ever seen, but he got it moving (after about 7 weeks and 3 massages), and it hasn’t been bothering me since. I had neck problems, too, and that wasn’t helping with the headaches at all, but I’m hardly having any at all, now. I don’t suppose I’ll have the same care after we move (more on that later)… it’s been nice, though.

So my options are to stop picking my kids up (riiiiight), get some proper exercise in, or become a hunched-over old lady by the time I’m 30. Decisions, decisions…

 

****

Oh, and speaking of health issues, I’m going to be cutting waaaay back on my caffeine consumption in the near future. I can’t really see not having at least one cup of tea in the morning, but the second morning cup, the afternoon pot I brew for me and mom, and the occasional after-supper cup… no more. I think I’m going to cry.

Why? Because Isaac won’t freaking sleep. It’s still taking 30 minutes to get him to sleep for… 30 minutes. He’s clearly exhausted much of the time; even though he tries to smile and be happy, he gets these dark circles under his eyes and his limbs get all flail-y, sure signs that he’s pooped, but he won’t go to sleep. Not on his own, not for me, not for anyone. It’s exhausting for him AND for me, and I’m wondering if it’s because he’s getting too much caffeine in his milk.

Mom said she’d rather give up breastfeeding than give up her tea, and I’d probably agree if formula wasn’t so damned expensive and comparitively inconvenient.

Maybe I’ll develop a taste for green tea.