Not for the Squeamish: April 2009

Blow me

It's been 16 months that I've managed to escape something that I think happens to everyone. If you recall from my very first posting, there was a mess I didn't want to mention for fear I'd jinx myself but in this instance, superstitious wishing doesn't work. Today I dealt with my first full-on, poo on the kid, rinse out the clothes in the sink blowout.

G-man had been testing my patience at lunch by fussing, squirming and pretty much refusing to eat. I can definitely tell you more food made it into his hair and eyebrows than in his mouth. As this has become pretty normal the past few days, I didn't think maybe some of the squirming was him going and that he was uncomfortable. So I declared lunch over, cleaned him up as best as I could and whisked him out of the chair. As I was cleaning up the rest of mess, he came over to me and I noticed he didn't smell like roses. And he didn't smell like lunch either. There was definitely something in that diaper.

I cheerfully scooped him up and carried him into his room. While singing the diaper song (admit it, we all have one) I pulled off his pants and found...ew. Yuck. Oh crap, it's crap! I hadn't even thought of it being a lot, much less an actual blowout so I didn't take the right precautions.

For starters, I yanked his pants down, thus smearing it all over his legs. When I realized what I was looking at, my next thought was that I had meant to fill the wipes box this morning and forgot. While frozen in this thought, G-man took advantage of my relaxed state and proceeded to take his show on the road, all over the changing table. As he suddenly sat up, turned over and tried to get away, his socks and onesie, plus some other clothes that were on the table to begin with and the changing pad were now part of this mess. I was not amused but in the end, G-man was happy to be in a new outfit.

Of course, while dealing with this, the dog decides he, too, must poop and wants to go out RIGHT NOW. During a thunderstorm. While letting him out, one of the cats escapes and instead of turning around to come back in, runs under the patio table for shelter. So I'm calling him, wondering if the dog is going to stand in the doorway all day and noticing that G-man made a beeline for an electrical cord as soon as I looked away. So instead of running errands, I'm doing laundry, drying off pets and thinking that G-man still needs to eat his lunch.

Safety first

Today is warm with a strong wind, quite reminiscent of the spring day a few years ago when an unattended candle, open door and stack of mail combined to start a fire in my kitchen.* Coincidentally, this morning I purchased a Sensy - a device that warms scented wax with a 25-watt bulb to make your home smell like you don't have a toddler, two cats and a dog.

One of the selling points of the Sensy - other than no flame - is that the wax gets warm, but not hot. This is great if you have a kid that likes to stick his hand in everything just to see what happens.

With each new addition, my house gets a little more "proofed". When the cats came, I learned to move breakables away from places they could walk, perch or jump and to never leave butter out uncovered. The dog resulted in books moved to high shelves, electric cords unplugged when not in use and never leaving peanut butter out uncovered.

With the G-man, we did the usual stuff - cabinet locks, toilet locks, oven locks. At any given moment I'm either locked in or out of something in my house. But it still amazes me the things he wants to get into. And really, it's more about protecting them from him than the other way around. The remote control? Broken. Sunglasses? Broken. Bottle of Ensure? Broken (that was impressive). Plus, numerous toys, household goods and sundries are scratched, damaged or on their way to being broken.

So knowing that while my new Sensy could break, he wouldn't get burned if he messed with it made me feel better about my purchase. Plus an experienced user told me that if a dog got tangled up in the electrical cord, knocked over the unit and managed to get wax on itself, the walls and the carpet, it was all easy to clean up. And don't put the rags you use to clean it up in the wash with other laundry. Good to know.

*I was outside with the pets and honestly thought that someone was enjoying their fireplace at an odd time when I turned around to see the flames in my window. Neither Tino-the-wonder-pup nor the save-your-own-fur cats alerted me to anything out of the ordinary.

The best laid plans

We got the G-man a slide for the backyard. While he slept one night, it was assembled and excitedly placed outside for discovery the next day. We pictured a big smile, a scamper to the little ladder, a kodak moment. When the time came, we opened the back door, brought him outside and saw him run...to the hose. It's been a week and he still barely looks at the slide, preferring to spend as much time as possible with the hose, reel and attachments.

One of the things I had a hard time getting used to in motherhood, and still do, is the fact that what I expect to happen rarely does. My visions of how our day will be seem more like schizophrenia than reality.

I should have known from the very start. The delivery was nothing like we planned: when I went into labor, the hospital we had pre-registered with, toured, taken classes at and pictured in our minds was full! We were diverted to one a few miles away. My OB was not on call so the backup delivered. The pediatrician we selected was not on call and his stand-in was another surprise. I was sure G-man would turn out to be a girl and a little boy popped out. It took three days to name him because the ones on our list we thought would come out on top didn't.

From my milk never coming in to his failure to nap, each day was a guessing game as to what could happen next.

Still, I look forward to what he'll do at new experiences. But he never seems to react the way I thought he would! Instead of a basket full of eggs and eyes wide with wonder at the easter hunt, he pulled at some grass, took things out of another kid's basket and staunchly refused to allow me to put an egg in his. A visit to the zoo isn't filled with us making animal sounds and him squealing with delight at a panda. It's him finding a stick, exploring the wheels of his stroller and freaking out at the sea lion show. Touring the holiday lights? He cried, then fell asleep. Visiting a display of unique play houses that he can discover? Spent most of his time playing with water in a nearby fountain.

But the big thing is, even though these ideas don't turn out the way I thought they would, he doesn't know that. He had fun doing whatever it is that he did. Sure, he didn't notice the baby goats at the farm, but he couldn't get enough of ringing the cowbells. He shows me there is more to delight in than I thought. And that there will be so much more for him to enjoy as he finds something new at each turn.

How to clean up a toddler after a meal

1. Open new package of wipes

2. Clean right hand

3. Clean left hand

4. Clean right hand again because it explored the remaining food on the tray while the left was being cleaned

5. Clean left hand again (see above)

6. Remove tray to prevent extra hand mess

7. Clean pants that dirty hands touched as soon as the tray was removed

8. Clean both hands at once

9. Clean face

10. Open another package of wipes

11. Clean hands that explored mess on bib while face was cleaned

12. Remove bib

13. Clean dog after food from bib dropped on his head while being moved

14. Clean hair

15. Clean face again after hands find hidden glop of food on side of chair and rub in eyes

16. Clean shirt that is no longer protected by bib and in the way of dirty hands while face was being cleaned

17. Clean both hands again

18. Remove toddler from chair

19. Power wash chair

20. Clean hands again after they play with dirty bowl/spoon dropped during meal and found on floor

21. Survey damage on floor

22. Move

Go, go, go!

Ooh, this has the potential to not be good. And will definitely test the squeamish limits. Our hall closet now holds a box with...a pediatric enema. It's still in the closet, but could be called in to the game as early as tomorrow.

To be honest, it got the call up this morning after a $30 trip to the pediatrician's office resulted in the direction to "clean him out." You see, the G-man is having some issues. Specifically, pooping issues. It's been going on for a while and I've consulted the doctor, the pharmacist, a host of friends, a nurse at the doctor's office via phone, the nice teachers at Parents Day Out, and back to the doctor again (although our primary wasn't in so I think we got a nurse practitioner).

The good news, there doesn't seem to be anything actually wrong. Aside from the incredible straining and pain he has when he attempts - and infrequently succeeds - to go, that is. No blockage. No fever. No infection. Looks good, sounds good. But then the bad news is, there's nothing wrong. He's just having issues.

I've increased the amount of fiber in his diet to epic proportions. Remember that SNL ad for Colon Blow? He could star in it. I reduced his dairy intake, increased fruits and veggies, spent tons of time researching ideas online. He's had Karo in his drinks. He's tried a stool softener. We got a prescription for some other liquid last week that's supposed to draw water into his bowels. I've even let the suppository fairy (wow, that gig must suck) visit a few times. And yet, the problem persists.

Watching him try to go is hard on whoever is around (but I know it's way worse for him). He had an episode at Hy-Vee that lasted, well, forever. I thought we were going to have to leave the store but he finally calmed down in the frozen foods aisle of the health market.

As his mom, it's my job to help him feel better. So off to the doctor we went.

A trip to the drugstore, a bottle of Miralax and a Pedia-Lax enema in a box later, we arrived home. The Miralax seemed simple - except you have to dissolve it in water and he's not big on drinking on command. It took 4 hours for him to finish the cup I put it in. But it's in his tummy now.

The big news is, he pooped! Three times this afternoon. I know it wasn't a huge amount, but it made me think. Do we need the enema? Should he really get it if things have started to move? I'll admit, I'd like an excuse to not do it. We have to wrestle him into a specific position, insert the product, and then, get this, keep him in that position for 1-5 minutes! I can't even get him to be still for a diaper change. How will this work?

So for one more night, we're taking a wait and see attitude (notice I said we this time - I'm not doing this alone). If he continues to show improvement, I'll let him clean himself out on his own time. If not, well, tomorrow will be a night to remember. Or forget. Probably forget.

A look into the future

Two of my good friends told me this morning they are pregnant. Ok, only one of them is actually pregnant, but they are both expecting, as in expecting to soon welcome a weird bundle of sounds, smells and sights squished into a package we call a baby.

I am completely thrilled for them. I did the "omigod happy dance" around the kitchen when I heard. I kept telling G-man he was going to have a new 'cousin'. I thought of all the unsolicited advice I could give and stopped myself short of actually firing off an email with it. A few minutes later I paused, noticed what the baby was doing at that moment and wondered, do they really know what's coming? So K & K, 15 months after your sweetpea arrives, you may find this familiar...

In the span of 45 minutes, the G-man had accomplished the following:

Intentionally rubbed applesauce in his hair, and possibly his eyes.

Fed the majority of his waffle to the dog.

Used his toothbrush to dig for treasure in the lime tree's dirt (this after moving the gate I have around the tree to protect it from said invasion).

Used that same toothbrush to clean out from under the stove. Judging from what's on that thing, that area really needs some attention.

Tried to put the toothbrush in his mouth once I retrieved it from under the stove (ah, you thought I wasn't paying attention. I did stop that.)

Discovered that by throwing his sippy cup, little bits of liquid come out, thus creating small pools of wet fun on the floor, perfect for rubbing hands in.

Emptied a box of cereal as he moved from room to room, much to the adoration of the dog. First he tossed small handfuls to his eager follower, then removed the bag and proceeded to shake it upside down with glee, I assume to make sure all little bits were equally scattered around my house.

It was at this point I saw the finale of his creation and thought of the parents-to-be. Throughout his journey around the house, he had managed to step in a variety of sippy cup puddles. These now met the dirt from the lime tree to form mud on his socks. His next step was to practice his new skill of crushing, using his muddy feet to pulverize any remaining intact cereal pieces.

Thank goodness we have hardwood floors. And a roomba.

Would you like that order to go?

Baby food commercials look like fun. Baby sits in a chair, lightly covered with non-staining food, smiling as mom offers another tasty bite. Nutritious! Delicious! Totally false.

Ok, maybe not totally, but still they set an unrealistic expectation. Yes, I've had meals where G-man really did open his mouth for more, cleaned his plate and didn't end up looking like he'd been dropped in a pig trough. But that's not the majority of the time.

The books say all food should be served while they are in the high chair/booster seat/whatever and when it's thrown, the meal is over. So much easier said than done! For starters, you have to feed these things constantly - breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, maybe even an evening snack. Oh, and you're not supposed to give them things like water, juice or milk within an hour before their next noshing extravaganza because that could ruin their appetite. That means, they are pretty much eating/drinking something at all times. And have I mentioned toddlers don't want to be cooped up in that chair for long? You try wrangling them in every hour or so and see how cheerful your house is.

As for the thrown food, maybe when an adult starts tossing food you're pretty sure they are done with it, but not with this kid. It's a sport for him. Give him two pieces of something and he'll (maybe) eat one and (definitely) throw the other. Part of it is entertainment while the dog and cats circle like sharks and part of it is just that he likes to see where things land. Gravity appears to be the most amazing thing to him. Plus, when he's free, if there is any left, he will eat what's on the floor! He's still hungry, just didn't want table service.

Besides the furry feeding frenzy, he has two other favorite tricks:

One bite G-man: The kid takes one bite of anything, even things he likes, and tosses the rest. One bite of nugget, gone with the rest. One bite of waffle, poof! the remainder hits the floor. To get him to eat the equivalent of one fry, I'd have to give him six. I try to give him small bite pieces to begin with, but he enjoys the chomp and would find a way to nibble part of a sesame seed and pitch the rest.

Chew, but don't swallow: It's in his mouth! He's chewing! He's enjoying it! He's, uh, taking it out and throwing it away. It's like his own weird eating disorder where he just doesn't feel like he needs to make the extra effort of swallowing. If a second bite is offered before the first is headed for tummyland, whatever is left in his mouth is now on the floor and the new and improved piece is tucked in his cheek, destination still unknown.

Since he's underweight - not even on the percentile charts any more - I think a lot about what to feed him and how much he ate. And this is why I tend to break the cardinal rule on a weekly basis. I let G-man eat wherever he's most apt to put something in his mouth. This means it's not always (gasp!) in the chair, or even at the table. Yes, I am the woman that chases her child around the house with a forkful of food so he can eat as he plays. Eat as he watches Scott mow the lawn. Eat as he simply wanders around. Because sometimes it works. I'm not proud of it, but I just can't stand to see good watermelon go to waste.

Occasionally, we have 'car picnics' where I pack his lunch and take it with us when we're out and then sit in the back seat with him and cater to his munching whims. He'll often eat almost everything and the only scenery he seems to have is the sky out the back window and my own lovely visage. Speaking of views, while it may not be al fresco dining, Monday breakfast is served while his chair is at the window so he can see the different trash trucks go by.

Let's face it, when it comes to getting kids to eat, the true motto of motherhood is, "Whatever it takes."

An ode to puppy love

Before G-man's arrival, we had furry, four-legged kids. The boys, Thomas and Timothy, fat, crazy, not fond of change cats. And Tino, quite possibly the neediest dalmatian on the planet. We didn't really know what to expect when a baby joined this dynamic. We'd already seen how the boys reacted when Tino came home. It wasn't pretty and involved a lot of peeing around our house. In fact, Tino is still scared of them as they rolled out the "beat the crap out of you" wagon instead of the welcome wagon and continue to dominate him.

But let's face it, he is bigger and we were more worried about his reactions to G-man than the cats. Peeing and wailing we could deal with. Aggressiveness from a 70lb. jealousy factory could be harder.

We read all sorts of materials on introducing dogs to babies, we bought a CD of baby sounds to get him used to hearing cries and coos. We introduced the new baby things to each pet so they could all get used to sights and sounds. Was it enough?

True to cat form, the boys continued to see themselves as the center of the universe. If G-man was on my lap, they sat on him, viewing him as a speed bump or pillow, not competition or even something interesting. Now that he's bigger, they are a bit more wary of his tail pulling, screeching and lunging. Yet still retreat to their own feline world and try to act like nothing has changed.

For Tino, it's all changed. If I had a Good Sport medal, I would lavish it on him daily. We couldn't have dreamed of how well he'd do, or how much he'd be inconvenienced by our little bundle.

For starters, he freaks out when G-man cries. Still. It's been almost 16 months. He's nervous and tries to hide. The first weeks with the baby, he was so stressed out he scratched himself silly - actually took the skin off his go-to spot. That's calmed down, but he's still unsure about what his role is when G-man is in hysterics. It's so sad to see both of them in distress!

Tino's schedule, once so set, is now a daily crapshoot. When do I walk? When do I go out? Am I going to daycare? Is G-man going to daycare? Will mom be home at all today? Will the gate leading upstairs be open or closed?

If a dog can get a concussion, my boy must have one. G-man has dropped a plastic (yet heavy) piggy bank on his head. Has hit him with a bat. Has thrown numerous books and toys at him. Stepped on him, fallen on him and pulled his tail to the point of doing damage - he couldn't lift it for three days and had to get a cortizone shot to help. Still, he soldiers on.

He has put up with delayed potty breaks when he really needs to go for the sake of not waking the baby on my lap. He hears "move it" all day as he tries to get close to the action but really just trips us up (I call him Captain Underfoot). He patiently fetches the ball that G-man throws 4 inches away while desperately hoping I'll launch one across the yard. He curls up on anything resembling a soft place, only to be told, no, it's the baby's blanket. Meanwhile, the cats lounge on his beds and throw him dare-you looks.

From yogurt on his head to being locked in G-man's room by accident, he takes it all in stride. He's never ruined "people" toys and growled only once (justifiably). He even allows the baby to play with his toys without once claiming his rightful territory.

What more could a pooch parent ask for? For all of his frustrating habits, the mud tracked in, fur shed and noise like a charging rhino when the baby sleeps, Tino is perfect. His breed may not be good with children, but he is great with G-man.

How low can you go?

To the moms at library story time:

I'm not saying you aren't beautiful - some of you are downright gorgeous and inexplicably put together while toting more than one child - and I'm not saying you don't deserve to enjoy fashion. But what I am saying is this: low-riding pants are not your friend. More than that, they are not my friend. Especially when I am sitting behind you.

You know that we'll be seated on the floor. You know your kid will start to wander off and you'll need to reach for him/her, resulting in even a seemingly carefully placed shirt betraying you. You know we have to move and sing between the stories. Yet there it is, the low-riding pant journeying down further and further as the activities continue.

Perhaps you may have underestimated the curiosity of toddlers. Specifically, mine. Because while you might be "airing it out", he wants to fill it. With his snacks. There are enough non-baby-safe things in this world that I have to redirect him from. Your bum should not be part of this discussion.

I never

As far as I can tell, only one person reads this blog right now. So Merritt, this one's for you!

When I was pregnant, I remember the superior glee you exhibited whenever I made one of my declarative "my kid's/we're not going to do this" statements. I'm sure you're keeping a scrapbook as each one falls in the hopes of presenting it to G-man one day, thus proving that his parents were indeed bright-eyed optimists, otherwise known as misinformed morons. But in case you missed some, here are the highlights:

Statement: I'm not taking the kid out to eat when he's a baby/toddler

Truth: Um...he goes to restaurants with me. A lot.

What Happened: What the hell was I thinking?! I like to eat. I have lunch plans with people all the time. And there are many nights that I look in the cupboard and wonder what Carmen's is serving instead. But it's more than me just taking him out; I am the nightmare I wanted to avoid. He throws food. He screams and squirms. He flirts with the wait staff while secretly opening sugar packets on his lap. And yet, we keep going back. But not to everywhere. I really am giving Harry's Country Club a few months to settle back down after our last visit. However, in my defense, if you don't want kids in your establishment, don't offer high chairs.

Statement: I'm going to make all of my own baby food

Truth: I got this one about 50% correct.

What Happened: I really did make a lot of his food! Beets (yeah, they never worked out), peas, carrots, corn, vegetable soup, butternut squash, spinach, peaches, mangoes, asian stir fry and even more actually made it to my handy-dandy baby food maker, into the specially purchased containers, into the freezer, and voila! into the kid. So what about the other 50%? Well, for starters, making the damn food took a lot of time - cook it, puree it, label it, store it, wash the equipment and do over for the next food. All usually on a Sunday night when I was already stressed out. Then there was the question about where to keep it all in the freezer. I don't know about your family, but we've got a ton of frozen foods and little freezer space. I would fill it up with so much food, only to see that it all would only last a week, maybe two. Maybe a bigger freezer would have helped. There was also the question of me never doing some fruits - like I'm going to cook, core, peel and puree an apple? Nope. Finally, there was the issue of portability. I'll admit I enjoyed tossing a few jars in a bag and keeping them on hand for any dining moment. Kind of hard to do with the frozen stuff. You have to actually plan for that. Add to the list cost - it turned out I wasn't really saving too much over buying a jar if I didn't get a good yield out of the foods I bought to prepare myself. And finally, I honestly could not make a lot of the foods as well as the manufactured stuff. Either my consistency or flavor was off.

Statement: We don't need a diaper pail

Truth: Honestly, we don't need one, but had one for a while.

What Happened: You laughed when I said we weren't going to use one! You didn't see me popping out to the bin after each precious movement. We held out for about a month, then broke down and added the Diaper Champ to our family. We had it for a year then realized, we were right to begin with: it's more trouble than it's worth. That's gone, the diapers go out to the trash every evening, and the room smells better.

Statement: I'm not going to be an over-reactive mom

Truth: My motto early on was, "If he's crying, he's breathing."

What Happened: In some ways, I am more protective of him that I thought I would be. I do tend to cater to many of his whimpers, yet have stood calmly by as a kid rode towards him on a trike and smacked into him. I saw it coming, too! I'm wildly, madly in love with him and that shows a lot, yet I'm still a bit practical about how real life should play out.

Statement: I'm going wear gloves to change his diapers

Truth: Never got around to buying them

What Happened: I did mean to get these; diaper changes scared me! But so far, I'm taking the lack of protection in stride. I'm not saying it's not gross, but I seem to be tougher than I thought.

Statement: I'm not going to give the kid any junk food

Truth: He had some brownie just this week.

What Happened: Uh, I just told you he had a brownie. What more needs said?

Statement: He doesn't need new clothes or toys all the time

Truth: He's got a big wardrobe and bigger toy collection.

What Happened: In the beginning, we borrowed everything so it didn't seem that bad. Sure, he had a lot, but we didn't buy it and were doing friends a favor by getting things out of their house. Then we started shopping on our own. There's a lot out there! And now a lot in here. Neither of us can pass up the toy aisle or cute shirt, even if G-man doesn't seem interested. I think it's getting out of hand but seriously, he's bored so I think he needs something new. Right?

I know I'm missing some big ones, so feel free to call me out on them! Oh and as for the stroller we got just because you didn't like it? Still using it!