Thursday, June 30, 2011


Tonight we had a first, and of course it had to do with Trouble. Typically at night, my husband puts Trouble to bed. He goes to bed before the others, because he needs the sleep, and because we need the relief of him being contained in his crib. Tonight, I put him to bed. My husband was doing some yard work, so I took care of bedtime. When I put Trouble to bed, he was not happy. He knew his sister and brother were still up. But, he went down ok because he was tired from playing outside all day.

Princess and Pirate were ready for bed, watching some shows in the family room, and I was feeding Donkey his bed time bottle. All of a sudden, I hear Trouble screaming at the top of his lungs. It wasn't his normal complaining cry, where he just wants to get back up. I sent Princess up to see if he was OK and to turn on his music for him. She said his leg was stuck in the crib. I laid Donkey in the pack & play, and ran up to see what was wrong. I can't even accurately explain the position Trouble was in. He was on his hands and one knee. His right knee was on the mattress, and his left knee was behind him, stuck in between the bars. And by stuck, I mean stuck. It wouldn't budge for me. I pulled from the inside. I pushed from the outside. It wouldn't move. In my mind I flashed back to Full House (my favorite show as a kid) where DJ was babysitting and the kid got his head stuck in the banister and they used margarine to try to get him out. Instead of breaking out the butter, I ran outside to my husband and he came to the rescue. My sister in law had stopped by, so she helped pry the bars apart a little while my husband pushed Trouble's leg back through. Thankfully he wasn't hurt, just shaken up from being stuck. Also thankfully, the crib wasn't broken - it being the only place Trouble can be contained.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

More tales of a Lifeguard

Having Trouble as a child means lots of stories. Putting Trouble in a pool will make for many more stories. I mentioned before how we joined the community pool this summer. Up until this week, I was able to get away with just taking Princess and Pirate. Pirate is almost 4, so he's still young enough to play in the baby pool, but he wants to get in the big pool with his sister. His feet can't reach the bottom, so he uses an inner tube (floatie) and gets around pretty well with it.

As we all know, moms have tons of superpowers. However, we don't have enough hands or sets of eyes to help several children at the same time and help them in different pools. This is why I usually only take the oldest two kids to the pool. The other night, I was feeling bold, so after dinner, I told my husband I was going to take Princess, Pirate, & Trouble all to the pool for 45 minutes after dinner. The pool closes at 7, so it was a perfect time to go. This was Trouble's first time at the pool. Princess is able to be in the big pool by herself, only in the 3 feet, and she usually makes a friend pretty quickly. Pirate started complaining right away that he wanted to get in the big pool, but I told him no because Trouble couldn't get in it. This night, everything went smoothly. Trouble loved the little pool and everyone had a great time.

The next day, I guess I was still high off of our good experience the night before. I decided I could be Supermom and take all four kids to the pool together. We had an early lunch, Donkey had his bottle, everyone was changed and we were packed up and at the pool by 12:20. I knew we could only stay an hour and a half tops because Trouble would need a nap. With a kid like Trouble, naptime is is priceless!

We got to the pool and were very lucky to get a table with an umbrella at the baby pool. I set out all of our stuff (which is a lot for five people), put Donkey's stroller in the shade, and let Princess go to the big pool. Trouble went in the pool right away. Pirate is a little slower to get moving, but he eventually got in the pool too. I didn't even get our toys into the pool before Trouble was hauling butt across the pool to grab someone else's. It's an unwritten rule that all toys in the baby pool become community property. But still, I didn't want him taking other kids' stuff. I brought him back to the side of the pool where our table was. Donkey started crying. He needed a nap, but couldn't get comfortable in the carrier in the stroller. I pushed the stroller around the baby pool to calm him down. When we got back to our spot, I parked him, but he was still upset, so I pushed the stroller back and forth in place, while watching Trouble and Pirate in the pool. I turned around for a second to see if Donkey was asleep, turned back to the pool, and Trouble was under water. It's only 18 inches of water, so I couldn't do a dive in save like I did with Princess a few weeks back, but I did have to run in and grab him out. It didn't seem to phase him at all. He was wriggling out of his towel and wanted back in the pool. Donkey finally fell asleep, so I could sit on the edge of the pool with the other two. I stood up for a second to look at Princess in the big pool, and Trouble was under water again. Another save for Mommy. My first instinct was to just leave the pool. Pack everyone up and go home. But since Donkey was asleep, and we had made it this far, I figured we could stay.

After that, Trouble was only allowed to sit in the baby pool, right in front of me, and if I even thought of standing up or turning my head, I got him out of the pool first. At adult swim, Princess joined us in the baby pool, and I felt accomplished that I had all of my kids near me and everyone was having a good time. We lasted the full hour and a half. 90 minutes may not sound like a long time. But with 4 kids at a pool, it feels like a lifetime. The clock didn't tell me it was time to go. Donkey woke up and started crying because it was time to eat. Trouble started whining and crying because he was exhausted. But, we made it. I made it. Even if I never attempt it again, I know I survived one time with all four!

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Life as a Lifeguard

Mommies have millions upon millions of jobs. We are nurses, waitresses, chefs, maids, launderers (not sure if that's a word or not, but it should be), chafeurs, grocery shoppers, errand runners, you name it, we do it. During the summer, we become lifeguards. I personally never took a lifeguard test at a pool or beach, but I have been tested by my kids, and luckily I have passed every test (so far).

Around Memorial Day, there was this insane heat wave going on here, where it reached a bazillion degrees every day for a week. I bought a new pool for the kids, one made of hard plastic that had a little slide molded into it. The slide is a little small for Princess, but she still has room to play in the pool part. [side note- every time I try to type pool, I type poop first... you can see what I'm usually writing about.] In the past, we have had the inflatable pools. We're so classy that my husband would inflate them with a leaf blower. Yes, I just admitted that. Anyway, this hard plastic pool looked good, so I bought it.

Memorial Day was the first time we used the pool. Princess and Pirate played in it while Trouble and Donkey were napping. I was able to sit in my chair next to the pool, and stick my feet in it. I was relaxing watching them play with their toys and try out the slide. Enter Trouble... his nap was over, so my husband brought him out to try the pool. My sitting time was over. I ended up standing in the pool because of how Trouble kept trying to drink the water, stick his face under water, or go down the slide backward. I wish this lifeguard would have gotten overtime pay that day.

There is a community pool down the street from us. We've been a few times, but never considered joining it until this year. A few weeks ago I took Princess and Pirate with my sisters in law and nieces and nephews. There is a water slide in the deep well. Princess went down it when she took swimming lessons two years ago. It was not a good experience. But on this day, all her cousins were going down the slide and she wanted to go too. Thankfully, I had enough sense to walk over with her and not just let her go with her 13 year old cousin. I talked her through exactly what to do, come up from under water, and swim right to the ladder on the wall. She was ready. She was excited. She laughed going down the slide. She was smiling when she came back up. Then I saw it, the fear on her face. I yelled to her to swim to the side. She started to, but she wasn't strong enough. She started to go under. I dove in the pool and grabbed her before I even had a chance to think about what I was doing. I pulled her to the side and got her out and she started crying. She was embarrassed. She finally calmed down and we were able to enjoy the rest of our day.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Man Overboard!

Pirate fell in the toilet this morning. He's really good about taking himself to the bathroom, and usually doesn't even tell me he's going #2, until he's done, and I get the "Mommy, I'm done" call. Sometimes I question his pooping timing, like he has to go right when I start feeding the baby, or conveniently as soon as I say it's time to clean up the playroom. Anyway, today he went, called me, and I wiped him, same as always. It's still not completely clear to me how this happened though.

He has a Thomas the Tank Engine potty seat that goes on top of the regular seat, one of those things so kids don't fall in the toilet. He also puts the stool in front of the toilet I guess as a footrest and to help him get onto the toilet without a problem. When he's done, he stands up on the stool and I take the Thomas seat off and put it behind the toilet, then I wipe him and he flushes, etc. Somehow today, I took the seat away before he had turned around for me to wipe him, and he lost his balance. It all happened so fast, and I was right next to him, but all of a sudden, he's in the toilet, with his legs bent over the outside of the bowl, just looking at me with fear in his eyes. He didn't say it, but I could tell he was thinking don't flush me. I fished him out right away, and he was fine, but he did have a little scratch on his back from it hitting the back of the bowl. To add to my stellar parenting moments, I laughed and told Princess all about it as soon as the ordeal was over.

Friday, June 24, 2011

From Potty Mouth to Potty Training

Two posts in one day is a lot for me, but this just happened, so what better time to write about it. I've said before how potty training was pretty easy with my first two kids. Trouble just turned 2, and has been sitting on the potty for a minute here and there, but nothing serious. Tonight his diaper wasn't very wet when I was getting him ready for bed, so I sat him on the potty. He sat and sat, laughed, sang a song, and played with the little splashguard that they have for little boys. I decided to brush his teeth while he sat, to take his mind off the task at hand, and maybe get him to go. He jumped up and climbed up on the stool in front of the sink for a drink after we finished his teeth.

Right then, my husband handed me the phone to talk to my grandmother, who is on a trip out of state. I'm a pretty good multitasker, so I can handle talking to her and putting a 2 year old in a diaper and jammies at the same time. We walked into his room while I was on the phone. I grabbed a diaper and took his hand to turn him around to the spot where I could lay him down to put his diaper on. He pulled his hand away and made this face, and before I could even process what was happening, he started peeing on his rug. I don't know how he did it, but he peed in a perfect question mark on the floor. I wish I had taken a picture, but I couldn't ask my grandmother to hold on so I could get the camera and take a picture of a pee spot on my son's floor. That just didn't seem right. Thankfully I was able to get off the phone without telling her what happened. I know from potty training experience not to get mad at the trainee or make them think they did something wrong. Trouble said, "Uh-oh Mommy. I pee. I sorry Mommy.". How can I be upset with someone who says "I sorry"? In context that would have been a good place for him to interject 'Damn it', but he seems to have left that phase. I have a feeling I am in for a looooong road of potty training with this one!

My little monkey

One day Donkey had a blowout poop, to the point that it got onto the swing he was sleeping in. How babies sleep in that, I have no idea. I had to wash the fabric part of the swing, and later in the day I went to put the swing back together. All parents know how a baby swing is a necessity.

I was in my living room, which opens right into the dining room, no walls in between or anything. Trouble was being his normal bad self, running in circles and getting into everything. I had my back to the dining room while I was putting the cover on the swing. The second I realized it was quiet, I turned around, and I saw this.
Being the Mother of the Year that I am, I grabbed the camera before removing him from the dining room table. Our table is pretty high, and you can see he is almost reaching the chandelier. When I was hanging the Easter eggs from the chandelier the week before, I felt a little nervous being up that high. But not Trouble. He was walking around the dining room table like it was nothing. Every night at dinner he would point to the eggs and ask for one. I guess at this point, he decided to take things into his own hands... literally.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Potty Mouth

A couple months before Trouble turned 2, he started speaking in sentences. I think it had to do with having a new baby in the house and two older siblings. He realized he needed to start talking more in order to be heard. I was so excited when he put more than three words together. Usually I was the only one to fully understand what he was saying, but that's just one of the Mommy superpowers.

One day he said, "Damn it.", or at least that's what I thought he said. I had him say it again, and clear as day, he said, "Damn it, Mommy.". I think kids cursing is hilarious. This doesn't mean I condone it with my kids, or teach them bad words on purpose. But I've heard stories of different kids starting to say bad words, and it always makes me laugh. Which is exactly what I did when Trouble said that to me. Of course, this resulted in him saying it over and over, so I had to gather myself and tell him that he can't say that. But it sounded a little counterproductive, when we had been trying to get him to say more and more words, then all of a sudden I'm telling him not to say something.

Saying 'Damn it' continued randomly for a while. Princess would laugh. She knows not to say bad words. But, she would try to get him to keep saying it by asking him, "What did you say?". Pirate saw this as an opportunity to say it himself. But he would try to make himself look good. He would say, "Don't say Damn it, Trouble. Stop saying 'Damn it'. You can't say Damn it". Pirate was trying to appear to be the good big brother, correcting his little brother. But in fact, he was just using this as an excuse to say the words himself.

The funniest part of the whole thing is that Trouble learned context pretty quickly. He didn't just say damn it when he felt like it. He started saying it when he didn't get his way. Or when he couldn't get a toy our of the toybox. Or when it was time to come in from playing outside. Or when it was time for nap or bed. He loves Oreos, and would eat them all day long if we let him. One night he had his usual two for his bedtime snack. He said, "more tooties (cookies) Mommy". I said no and that he already had two. He looked right at me, threw his sippy cup on the floor and yelled, "Damn it, Mommy!". Princess and Pirate busted out laughing. I had to turn around so he couldn't see me laugh.

Another night, my family was at our house celebrating my dad's birthday. Kids always have much more fun when other people are around to play with them. The kids were having a blast playing with everyone. We still try to get Trouble to bed around his normal time, because he's kind of a monster. It's always a relief when he goes to bed. After my husband put him in bed and was closing the door, he said Trouble screamed out, "Damn it, Dada!". We heard him continue to yell 'Damn it' followed by the names of everyone that was at our house, through the monitor, for the next ten minutes. It definitely made us feel like stellar parents in front of the rest of the family. At least everyone else thought it was funny too.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

When it Rains, it Pours

A few weeks ago, I was excited to go on a field trip with Princess's class. I usually can't volunteer for things at school due to the Fab Four, but this time I had a babysitter for the boys so I could go. As our family luck would have it, two days before the field trip, Trouble started with a fever. Nothing too high, but enough to have him kind of out of it for the day. Tuesday he seemed better, and was running around like normal. Wednesday was the field trip, and he was fine. It's never easy to leave the house, with or without kids. When there's a babysitter here, I have almost as much prep to do as when we all go out together. My dad came to babysit, and I was on my way to meet the school bus. It was pouring down rain, and we were supposed to have lunch at a park on our way back from the theater. In the end, the field trip was nice, and everyone had a good time. Even better, Trouble and the rest of the gang stayed healthy while my dad was here.

My sister came over for dinner that night. After dinner, my husband took Trouble out with him to run to the store. They stopped and brought milkshakes back for everyone. My husband said that Trouble almost fell asleep in the car on the way back. While we were all sitting at the table with our milkshakes, my sister kept trying to make Trouble laugh, but he was in this crazy daze. He looked like he was going to fall asleep at the table. Hubby took him upstairs to get him ready for bed. The next thing I know, Hubby calls me to the steps and says my sister should go home. Trouble just barfed all over the place while he was getting him ready for bed. My sister was 4 months pregnant at the time, and my husband didn't want her to catch anything from the puke. She said she was already all up in Trouble's face, so she was already exposed to whatever he had. She was trying to help me since Donkey was screaming in the pack & play, and Princess and Pirate had to get ready for bed. I had given her a bunch of baby stuff that day, so I just helped her load her car and told her to go. I had to let Donkey cry for a few minutes while I got the other two in bed. Hubby gave Trouble a bath and sat with him on our bed, with a trash can nearby.

Once the kids were settled, I fed Donkey. We had just switched to Medium Flow nipples for his bottles. All of my kids always took a few feedings to adjust from one flow to another. Donkey took the bottle with no problems, and burped, so he was good to go. I took him upstairs and put him in the swing so I could clean up, make lunches, set the coffee, and the rest of my night time chores. (I call them chores, but it's just life.) My husband came downstairs once Trouble fell asleep but had to get back upstairs just in case Trouble woke up puking. I told him I was almost done in the kitchen, and I was going to take Donkey downstairs to rock him to sleep. I heard Donkey cough, looked out into the living room, and he was just swinging away, smiling at the little frog on his swing.

I finished what I was doing, and went to pick him up to take him downstairs. I turned off the swing and went to unbuckle him, but the buckle was wet. He was wet. No, he was soaked, clothes, socks, hair, everything. The swing was soaked. What the hell? Did he pee through his diaper? Impossible. Then I saw spit up on the rug under the swing, and on the floor in front of that rug. Oh my God! He projectile spit up, and the swing made it projectile even further than normal! Emergency bath, load of laundry, scrubbing of the carpet and floor, and we were back in business. That was just one of those nights where I couldn't wait to get to bed! Thankfully Trouble didn't get sick anymore that night, and was fine the next day. And I made sure not to put Donkey in the swing right after a medium flow bottle.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Starting the day Projectile Style

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that anything involving the word projectile is not a good thing. When Donkey was around 7 weeks old, we had one of those mornings. He had been up to eat around 2:30 am, and was back up right before 7. My husband gets Princess up for school a little after 7, so I was already in the living room feeding Donkey when the rest of the crew came downstairs. Donkey was taking his bottle, and I was talking to the rest of the family. He finally finished the bottle and I put him on my shoulder to burp. He had a really small burp, so I sat him back on my lap and started talking to him. He coughed a little, and looked like he was going to burp again, so I turned him to pick him up and put him back on my shoulder. Before I even got him up off my legs, it happened. He massively projectile spit up. It was all over the place, including on me and on him. Donkey's clothes were wet, and half of me was soaked. (It was only half because of how he was turned. I guess that was lucky?) The cushions, arm, and back of the sofa were covered. The floor in front of the sofa was covered. Princess screamed. Pirate did the same because he copies Princess all the time. Trouble yelled "Uh-Oh". I felt tears, but held them back. I was already a hot mess before 7:30 am and crying wouldn't help anything. I just wanted to go back to bed and start over, but no such luck. The joys of newborns continue!

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Pooping Pep Talk

I have been really lucky with potty training... so far. Princess and Pirate were both trained pretty fast, by 2 1/2. Then we got to the point of transferring Pirate from the little potty to the regular toilet, with one of those seats that goes on top so he doesn't fall in. Now he takes himself to the bathroom to go #2, then does the famous "Mommy, I'm done". I'm not sure when I'm supposed to train him to wipe his own butt, but I don't mind it for now.

The other evening, my husband and I were in the living room talking, and Pirate went upstairs to do his business. He always likes to tell us where he's going, as if we live in a huge house and he'll be in another wing or something. "I'll be in the bathroom going poop if you need me", he reports. Then we hear this. "Come on, it's ok. Come on out.". My husband and I stop talking so we can listen more. "You can do it, come out.". Pirate is giving his poop a pep talk to come out. In the end it all worked out. Then I heard my favorite words ever... "DADDY, I'm done!"

Friday, June 17, 2011

Name Game

I've noticed reading some blogs that most people don't use their kids' real names. Since I have 3 boys, it's hard to keep referring to them as "him" all the time. So, I've decided to change their names for the purpose of blogging.

My daughter is the only girl. She cried when I had my sonogram with our 4th baby this past October because she really didn't want another brother. One way I consoled her was to tell her that she'd be our princess. So, I'll refer to her as Princess. Princess just finished first grade, and is usually very sweet. However, there are times where she makes these faces and rolls her eyes, and I dread her becoming a teenager. I have a feeling her name could change when she gets older.

My oldest son is into all things pirates. He loves pirate cartoons, pirate ships, pirate action figures, and dresses up as a pirate by 7am most days. I will call him Pirate. He also equally loves Star Wars. He has just as many Star Wars action figures and a Darth Vader costume. He refers to himself as "Dark Bader" when he is dressed up. I was going to go with calling him Dark Bader, but Pirate requires less typing. I'm always looking for an easy out.

My middle son, who has been in the terrible two's since he was 14 months old, causes me more gray hair than anyone my age should have. He is absolutely cute as could be, and I can see him charming his was out of trouble when he gets older. My first two were very laid back. This one, not so much. He's a climber, he's a tantrum thrower, he's a hitter. They say everyone gets at least one kid like this. If he had been our first born, he would have been an only child. I was already pregnant with the fourth by the time this badness set in, or we'd only have three kids. I will refer to him as Trouble.

My sweet baby boy doesn't stand a chance among all the madness of this house. We're lucky he sleeps through the noise, because quiet is a rare thing around here. When I was pregnant with him, we asked Princess and Pirate what we should name the baby. Pirate was in a real Shrek phase at the time, watching all of the movies all the time. At first he suggested Shrek. I said probably not. They both suggested Thomas. We liked Thomas, but in the end, we didn't name him that. Around Christmas time, Pirate suggested Rudolph and Frosty. They were a little too seasonal, and the baby was going to be born at the end of February or early March. Cupid or Easter Bunny would have been more fitting, but we crossed them off the list too. Back to the Shrek phase, Pirate decided we should name the baby Donkey. It was a last minute decision in the delivery room, but we ended up not going with Donkey. However, my friends loved that Pirate came up with that, so we still refer to the baby as Donkey. And so will I in my blogs.

I went back and edited my old posts to reflect the new names for my children. I am enjoying these names, so I may consider applying for changes on their birth certificates.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Newborn Night Time

Anyone who's ever had a baby boy knows the importance of covering up during diaper changes and baths. You would think someone with their third baby boy would be a pro at diaper changing. For the most part, I am a pro at it. I can change those wet diapers in no time. However, there is a time that all parents have experienced. A time where you are so sleep deprived that you can't see straight. Where you are up at 4am after barely sleeping two hours since the last feeding, and waking to every single noise your newborn makes while he sleeps. All you want to do is get the changing and feeding done so you can attempt a few more minutes of shut eye until the baby (or one of the other kids) wakes up again. Any mistakes made at this time don't really count.

A few months ago, when Donkey was just days old, I was in this above described phase. I felt as though I was walking around in a fog during the day, and the night was much worse. I am incredibly lucky to have my husband. He and I would take turns during the night feedings for my son. But even so, I still woke up every time the baby did. I never felt fully rested. And I'm pretty grumpy in the middle of the night. I like my sleep. One night, it was my turn. I picked Donkey up out of the bassinett, and he was soaked through his clothes. The bassinett sheet was also wet. Wonderful hubby woke up and changed the sheet. I may or may not have been stomping around making a lot of noise to wake him. I took the baby downstairs to the changing table. (We don't use his room for changing during the night because we don't want to wake the monster. I mean 2 year old.) I got downstairs and took his clothes off, and realized we didn't have any diapers there. Covered him up in a blanket, laid him in the pack & play, went upstairs, grabbed some diapers, back to baby. I'm sure I was uttering some inappropriate words at the time as well, but my memory is a little unclear. I changed him, put new clothes on, and swaddled him in a clean blanket then made his bottle.

I went to my usual spot in the glider and started feeding him. Parents know how newborn feedings go. They take forever! He kept falling asleep, and I'd have to wake him up. I could feel myself falling asleep, dreaming of how nice it would be to sleep in my bed for longer than an hour at a time. I jolted awake to feel my arm was wet, because he was just drooling the formula back out of his mouth. At least I knew he needed to burp. I burped him, and he took some more bottle. Then he made the face. The poop face. Once he finished his business, we were back to the changing table. Thankfully I had brought down more than one diaper. I cleaned him up, and thought that I was lucky it wasn't a blow out. Then I stopped thinking for 2 seconds. I closed up the diaper and leaned down to put it in the trashcan. Note - I did not take any steps away from the changing table, just simply leaned over to the small trash can next to me. In that fraction of a second I heard a gurgling sound. I thought he was spitting up so I went to lean him to his side to make sure he didn't choke. But there was no spit up. And he was wet. His hair was wet, his face was wet, his clothes were wet. The top of the changing table and the arm of the sofa behind it were wet. Holy crap, I hadn't covered him when I leaned down to put the diaper in the trash. He peed all over the place. Pee on him, on his clothes, on the sofa... Pee everywhere. And the gurgling sound? He peed in his mouth. I had no choice but to start crying. I was very hormonal, tired, and worried that something bad would happen to him after peeing in his own mouth. Somehow I was able to pull it together to change his clothes again, clean up the changing table, sofa, his hair, and his body. Thankfully Donkey went right back to sleep. And so did I.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Stories from a hot day... and a sneak attack

I guess now that my baby is three months old, I should try working on my body to get back into shape. "Back" into shape is a pretty big stretch, considering I'm not sure if or when I've ever been in shape. In between kids, I used to do pretty well losing weight, but always thought in the back of my mind that I'd end up pregnant again. Not this time. This time is for sure, we are done. That being said, I'm at this very awkward in-between clothes stage. Maternity clothes have all been given away or sold. (Gotta love e-bay!) But I'm still too fat for the clothes I was wearing last summer. Being a SAHM, it's not that big of a deal. I don't leave the house much, so my Orioles t-shirt with the bleach stain on it and old lacrosse shorts are pretty much my uniform. However, there are times when I have to go out, and I'd like to not look like a fat slob when this happens. Cut to this weekend, I had some "Me" time. And it was honest to goodness Me Time. I went out Alone, which rarely happens. I spent three hours out shopping. Some things we needed around the house, a couple cute outfits for the kids, and finally, some new clothes for myself.
I dread shopping for myself. You couldn't pay my husband enough to be around when I am trying to shop for myself. When things don't fit right, which is often since I want to wear a smaller size than I am, I get in a horrible mood. It's not pretty. Thinking back, he was doing us all a huge favor having me go shopping alone. Anyway, not only did I decide that I needed to accept how I look for now, and buy this body some clothes because the uniform is not appropriate for public display, but I also hit some huge sales! And then, I did it, I went for it. I was feeling somewhat confident, and loving the sales, so I bought myself two bathing suits. I haven't bought a new bathing suit in a long time, and I dreaded doing so, but it was time. I also bought a sundress that is pretty cute, and won't have people mistaking me for an escaped zoo animal.
That's a lot of backstory for the point of this post. So, Sunday I took my older three kids to a birthday party at a farm. After a big debate with myself, I decided to go for wearing the sundress. It was about a bazillion degrees out, and on the farm in the sun, I could literally feel myself baking. There was so much sweat running down my legs under the dress... well, no more details are needed. My almost 2 year old, Trouble, is a bit of a handful, to put it lightly. I brought the stroller for him, which turned out to be a good thing because he kept trying to run away. Also, the stroller held everyone else's drinks and purses. I did get him out to see the animals, etc. I was holding him on my hip to show him the different animals, and he was squirming like crazy to get out of my arms. When we were on the hay ride one of my friends asked me what was on Trouble's legs. I looked and they were all blue. I thought he was bruised from trying to escape from the stroller. My other friend said it looked like the stamp they had put on our hands at the gate. Sure enough, his stamp had rubbed off. No big deal. There were a few other close calls, where Trouble took off running. At the end of the day, I won the battle, and returned home with all three kids. The 2 year old did not escape. Although, I did consider leaving him there with the goats at one point.
After the party, I took the kids for a visit at my mom's house, and I ran a few errands. I stopped at a couple stores, then went back to get the kids. I was sitting in a chair talking to my mom and reached my hands up to fix my ponytail. This ponytail was made of the most disgusting sweaty hair imagineable. My mom said, "Oh my God, what's wrong with your arms? Are you bruised?". I looked, and the whole underneath side of both my arms was blue. Smurf blue. I looked like a smurf from my armpit to my elbow. It turned out that the dress I debated on wearing (clearly made the wrong decision there) was literally rubbing off onto my arms. Mystery solved... I also dyed my sons legs blue. We're just one big happy smurf family.
I had started with a headache earlier in the day from the heat. At the point I realized my arms were blue, and I remembered how many people I had talked to and how many stops I had made, the headache turned into a migraine. I was ready to get home, but we live 40 minutes from my mom. I had the older two kids go potty, which is always the best decision. (Those 'I'm going to pee my pants' rides home are the worst!) Great parenting, I realized I hadn't changed Trouble since before the party. It was really only a couple of hours, but I wanted to get him in a dry diaper for the ride home. I was in a hurry because of the headache, so I just stood him up and pulled down his shorts to change him. I undid one side of the diaper, and good lord, it was a SNEAK ATTACK! This diaper was so full of poop that I was actually confused. He didn't stink at all. It didn't stink at all. And this kid does some whoppers most of the time. Even up to the minute I opened the diaper, I hadn't known he pooped. Complete sneak attack. (Headache grows.) I have to quickly lay him down and use the whole travel pack of wipes to clean this thing. In the midst of the poop confusion, I pulled his shoes off to make sure they didn't come out poop covered. Once the mess was clean, I put his pants back on and started putting his sandals back on. They wouldn't fasten. I had broken the little tab that holds them together when I pulled them off. I was seriously wishing to just blink and get us all home. So, I carried him to the van, got everyone buckled, and prayed they'd all fall asleep. Thankfully they did. And two days later, I'm happy to report that my arms are back to their original pasty white color.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Time for a shower?

I vaguely remember the days where I could sit in a nice hot bubble bath and relax. Those days are long gone. To be honest, I'm not sure I've ever taken a bath in this house, and we've lived here for five years. I use the bathtub all the time, to bathe the kids, but not for myself. Showering is faster, and with four kids, faster is a must. I hate to admit it, but there are days I don't even get to shower. I know it sounds gross, but it's the truth. I have a feeling there are other moms out there who can relate. I try to get in the shower first thing in the morning when my husband is still home, or before bed at night, when the kids are asleep. But some nights, I'm just too tired to put in the effort to try to clean myself. I go to bed feeling gross, but prefer the sleep over the time it takes to shower.

Yesterday was one of those days where showering just didn't happen for me. I'm not proud of it, especially since it was a thousand degrees outside. So, first thing this morning, I decide to get in the shower, before my husband leaves for work and my daughter has to get to the bus stop. I immediately feel better about myself. I'm getting clean, I have a few minutes to myself, I feel refreshed. As I'm showering, I'm thinking about the day ahead and what I can get done before the baby wakes up and how I'm excited it's pizza night for dinner. I'm in my own little world, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Who am I kidding? Peace and quiet? That didn't last as long as it took me to type the sentence. First my son comes in the bathroom asking if he can wear shorts and a short sleeved shirt today. Now, the winter clothes are packed away, not in his drawers, so the answer was pretty obvious. But sarcasm doesn't really work on a 4 year old, so I said yes. I said that he can wear shorts and a short sleeved shirt every day now because it's summer. He leaves. The minute I said summer, I knew it meant trouble. Not even a minute later, my daughter comes in the bathroom. "Is it really summer? Pirate said that you said it's summer. I still have school, so it can't be summer." Quickly I explain that I just meant it is hot outside and feels like summer. She leaves. She comes right back in. "Don't forget you have to put my earrings back in before school.". How can I forget when I'm being reminded every five minutes? She leaves again. Back in comes Pirate. "Do I put my jammies in the hamper?", he asks. I tell him yes. As he's walking out the door, he says, "I'll be in my room if you need me." and proceeds to slam the bathroom door again. I go to get out of the shower and realize I forgot to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. At least I realized it before I got dressed. Later in the morning I asked my son a question and he told me that he was busy and couldn't help me. I'll have to remember that the next time I want to shower in peace.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Mommy, I'm Done!

I’ve thought a lot about how I should write down the funny day to day happenings in my home, particularly having to do with my kids. However, I don’t really have the time to do this, particularly because of the kids. I want to start this blog to record some funny and not-so-funny things that happen, mainly so I can remember them when the kids are older. Since becoming a mom, almost 8 years ago, my memory seems to have slowly started to deteriorate. Now that I have 4 children, I don’t remember much. Usually it’s just small things, like where I put my keys, or what day my daughter is buying lunch. Little things like that are resolved rather quickly. Being so busy with the kids sometimes doesn’t allow me to really take in everything that is happening with the kids. I forget the funny things they say and do by the end of the day. Perhaps blogging about them will help my memory. I might get a few laughs along the way too.

“Mommy, I’m done!” is a quote from my almost 4 year old son, Pirate. I hear this on a pretty regular basis, just about once a day. As a matter of fact, I was sitting at the computer, contemplating this blogging thing, and I hear those words being yelled to me from the bathroom upstairs. At that moment, I knew it would be the name of my blog. I’m of course referring to him being done on the toilet, and needing me to wipe him. There is nothing I love more than wiping a poopy butt. I’m lucky enough to have to do this at least three times a day, once for each of my three boys. On a really good day, one of them will go more than once. That’s like a real bonus for me. Thankfully, my oldest is able to take care of her own business. The other great thing about my son calling me is that he has impeccable timing. He is able to “have to go poop really bad” whenever I am giving his baby brother a bottle. This is always a fun time because I have to stop feeding the baby, put him down somewhere that his other brother won’t get to him, run upstairs and wipe Pirate, listen to him say goodbye to his poop, wash our hands, and remind him to put his underwear back on before his pants. (I can't even count how many times he forgets that step.) Then I can get back to feeding the baby, who has usually spit up part of his bottle, or is screaming because I interrupted his meal.

Parents have always had to deal with poop, puke, boogers, and other gross stuff. It's a part of life with kids, especially when you have four of them. Not a day goes by where I don't wipe a butt or pull a giant booger out of a nose (or off of a shirt, face, cheek, finger, etc.). Sometimes these occurrences are too funny not to share. Now I get to share them.