The Deal With the Potty

The Boy is three years old. He's advanced, or at least above average, in all age-appropriate development - he counts, has started spelling, is incredibly verbal and social, rocks jigsaw puzzles and other tasks that require spatial awareness and problem solving skills. He really is doing so well and is such a big boy.

Except when it comes to this one pesky issue: the potty.

The Boy is decent at letting me know when he has to pee then going on the potty, but pooping is something else altogether. He's so big that his diapers can't contain his poop, and they don't make bigger diapers in the brand we use. I've read him books, tried rewarding him with stickers and occassional treats, negotiating, rationalizing, what have you. I even thought peer pressure at school might get him on the pot. None of it has worked. So quick to state that he's a big boy the rest of the time, when facing a frustrated eye roll from Hubs or myself after leaving an enormous dump in his pants, The Boy says in a cute little voice, "but I'm little."

I've broached the subject of having The Boy go bare-bottomed for 3 days, as has been suggested by several friends, but Hubs puts his foot down - cringing at the thought of cleaning up poop from a corner of the living room.

My mother in law suggested putting him in underwear while he runs around in the back yard. There's also the tedious method of spending most of the day restraining him on the toilet - which I can't really do anymore anyway since I've got The Little Boy to think about.

I'm at such a loss. I know it's as common as anything, but it's seriously getting on my last nerve. I mean, what's so great about crapping in your pants? Seriously. It's an honest question.

One Of Those Days

I feel like I'm being driven to drink. For several days in a row The Big Boy has been a terror, throwing things, saying no to every request and refusing to nap. The Little Boy has joined in by refusing to nap anywhere but on my chest and wailing if I put him down for more than a nanosecond.

When I throw my hands up and admit defeat to the No Sleep Gods and try to roll with it I'm met with the lack of sleep nasties and crazies. The Boy can't settle on one activity for more than 5 minutes before saying, "I'm starving," then only eating half of what he's given and telling me that he's starving again. All the while The Little Boy is on a five minute schedule of happiness, sadness, pee, diaper change; happiness, sadness, poop, diaper change doze off; wake up 30 seconds after being put in his swing, just as I sit down to play with The Boy. It's like they're conspiring against me. Even Cat got in on it the other day by following me around the kitchen and meowing when the boys gave me a second to get an early start on dinner. For so much of my life I was used to no one wanting anything from me that days like today, like the last few days, really stress me out.

I wouldn't trade any of it, but man am I tired.

Wordless Wednesday

There's A Hair Issue Again

About this time last year I toook The Boy to have his hair cut for the very first time. I posted about it HERE.

His hair hasn't been cut since then and, much to Hubs's chagrin, it probably won't be cut anytime soon. Certainly notbefore The Boy starts school on Wednesday. And can you blame me? Look at these curls!

And the front view as well

Now that the A/C is fixed he doesn't seem to care as much, but I kind of feel like I'm being derelict in my maternal duties by NOT trimming his hair on a regular basis. I just can't bring myself to remove those curls. I'm not sure whether it's because of all the changes going on around here - The Little Boy's arrival and school starting chief among them - but I feel more anxious now than I did before his first cut a year ago. If I do take him to get his hair trimmed would they think I was weird if I saved some again? I mean, he's three. Not a baby anymore and almost not a toddler.

Sniff.

I'm clearly crazy and exhibiting early signs of becoming a hoarder, I'm sure of it.

Cat Got A New Baby Too

Our sweet Cat wasn't really sure what to do when we brought The Boy home 3+ years ago. We'd only adopted her a few months earlier and she was still getting used to Hubs and I so introducing a screaming 7 pound meatloaf to the family had her wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

 

She did okay, all things considered. Leaving the room when the noise got too intense but hovering in the doorway to make sure everything was okay, but still keeping her distance from The Boy save for the occassional sniff. There was one spectacular moment, the day we brought The Boy home from the hospital, that she tolerated him as a baby but that was pretty much it.

 

Once past the newborn phase and started reaching and grabbing she decided to keep her distance. For a full year she stayed away from The Boy, and from me, and hid herself away on Hubs' lap. I missed her terribly but, miraculously, after that first year was up she decided she was fine with toddler hugs and pokes and love. And they've, mostly, been buddies ever since. Hooray!

 

The Little Boy's arrival was met with much less trepidation by Cat. She's not nearly as spooked by his cries or the flailing of his little arms, and she's content sharing our laps with him on a regular basis.

 

 

 

 

It's gone really well. And Cat's favorite discovery since The Little Boy's arrival has been The Boy's old bouncy seat - clearly not for babies, but for cats. The perfect place to assist Hubs while he works.

 



 

 

I'm so thankful for our sweet Cat.

On Laundry

I'm not normally very obsessive about my clothes. I have my 'uniform' of jeans and black tees plus a few other random pieces, and as long as they smell decent and don't have any spills, messes or other disasters on them I tend to follow a 2-day rule about wearing them.

Lately, however, the 'other disasters,' read newborn bodily fluids, seem to happen so frequently as to necessitate multiple wardrobe changes in a day. And I just don't have enough clothes to be doing that without doing laundry all the time. But The Little Boy, as sweet and mellow as he seems to be, is prone to fits of puking, peeing and pooping for hours on end, damaging his mood and soaking me in yuck, so doing laundry all the time is just what I end up doing.

And that's just my stuff. There's also The Boy's stuff, covered in dirt, sand and food; Hubs' stuff, covered in the same stuff as my clothes but in smalller quantities; and the mountains of The Little Boy's burp cloths, swaddling blankets, sheets and clothes that end up soaked and need washing everyday. Then there's stuff from the rest of the house - linens, both kitchen and bath, and slip covers etc. It's just a lot of stuff. A whole lot of stuff.

Don't even get me started on what it'll be like when we start using The Boy's old cloth diapers on The Little Boy. I would be more terrified of that change if we weren't still using cloth diapers on The Boy, who stubbornly refuses to fully potty train(but that's another post), but the sheer number of times a day The Little Boy requires a change in a twenty four hour period and thinking of another load of laundry a day makes my left eye go twitchy. I'm just not Type A enough to enjoy, or even tolerate well, needing to do several loads of laundry a day.

The day I began writing this I had somehow escaped being showered in vomit and pee and having mustardy newborn poop dribbled on me in a diaper blowout. The following day, yesterday, I had chunks of cottage cheesy stuff spewn all over myself before I even made it out of my jammies.

Wordless Wednesday

New Baby Wonderfulness

The Little Boy may still be a newborn, but he's growing super quckly. He's hitting those milestones and doing all the normal things that new humans do that seem miraculous - rolling from front to back, smiling toothless smiles, losing the hair he was born with and growing new, precious peach fuzz and cooing and babbling cheerfully.

One thing's for sure, I feel much more present this time around. As in love with The Boy as I was and miraculous as I found his time as a newborn, I was also in a bit of a fog. I sort of had to tell myself to appreciate that time rather than it happening organically. But now it's like I'm hyper-aware of how lucky I am and how fleeting this time is. Everything is momentous. Holding my gaze for 10 seconds warrants a cheer. Rolling over demands a high five(hard to do with a little hand held in a fist). I viewed the switching of The Little Boy's disposable diapers from NB to Size 1 as a major life event. Even I'm finding my enthusiasm slightly nauseating, and I'm me.

It goes by too quickly, for real, so perhaps a little excessive enthusiasm is acceptable.

Feeding The Beast

The Boy has quite an appetite. He's a big lad – 3'2” and 35 pounds of solid, irrepressible, toddler energy – and he's already prone to eating like a teenager. His palate is fairly adventurous for a toddler and he's up for at least one bite of anything - except peas. He hates peas.

He has cereal and berries for breakfast, toast and grapes or apple or banana for a morning snack, a sandwich or pasta with fruit for lunch, toast or crackers for a snack, then dinner. He usually slows down by dinner, but then has a bit of ice cream for dessert. And this is how it is when he's going through a not particularly hungry phase.

Now that we have a kitchen that has room for me to sit while I cook and prep, and now that I'm not pregnant anymore, I've been making up for lost time with the food preparation – and the organizing; you'd be surprised by how little kitchen organization Hubs needs to maintain his sanity. Nothing may be Pinterest-worthy, either the food or the pantry set-up, but it's getting there. And, as I try to reconcile my ravenous appetite with not feeding The Boy too much processed junk, I've been reacquainting myself with the fine art of baking for the heck of it – not to be confused with baking for holidays.

Our two current favorite treats are chocolate chip cookies and financiers, a fancy French word for little cakes. The financiers were actually supposed to be madeleines, but I didn't have a fancy madeleine pan, just a fancy financier pan.

The recipes were poached from The Food Network and Th Cooking Channel websites, respectively, and were chosen because they had glowing reviews and were classified as 'easy' recipes.

The chocolate chip recipe, by Elizabeth Falkner, was really, really easy to make and super tasty. Originally called Chocolate Chip Cookies Straight Up or With Nuts, I made it sans nuts. Here is the recipe:

8 tablespoons (4 ounces) butter, softened but still cool

3/4 cup (6 1/4 ounces) firmly packed dark brown sugar

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon (4 ounces) granulated sugar

1 large egg (1 1/2 ounces by weight)

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 1/4 cups plus 3 tablespoons (7 ounces) all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

8 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped the size of chocolate chips, or bittersweet chocolate chips (about 1 1/2 cups)

 

I ignored the 'instructions' part of the recipe, and indeed the advice of any experienced baker or chef, by creaming the butter and sugars with my KitchenAid, using the paddle ,then dumping in the rest of the ingredients.

 

The instructions indicate baking at 350 for between 13 and 17 minutes, with less time for chewier cookies. I actually would have stuck tight to the 13 minute mark since I like chewy cookies and, having baked them for 15 minutes, they were pretty crunchy. At least The Boy liked the crunch.

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/chocolate-chip-cookies-straight-up-or-with-nuts-recipe/index.html

 

The Lemon Madelienes, or financiers, we made were actually a little bit more difficult to make(how can anything requiring tempering of eggs be considered easy?), but was still doable and very tasty - and less sweet than the cookies.

 

The recipe, by Laura Calder, goes as follows:

• 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• Pinch salt
• 2/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon butter
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 1 tablespoon honey
• Zest of 1 lemon
• 4 eggs

Melt the butter, sugars, lemon and honey in a saucepan over low heat then, this is the tricky part, temper the eggs before adding them to the pan and turning off heat.

 

Stream the butter mixture into the rest of the ingredients and whisk until smooth.

 

Pour into madeleine, or financier ;), pans and bake for 10 -12 minutes.

http://www.cookingchanneltv.com/recipes/laura-calder/lemon-madeleines-recipe/index.html

My madeleines didn't quite look like the original

But The Boy hasn't minded one bit,

Now I'm not claiming either of these recipes is healthy or nutritious, but they're both better than eating proessed store bought crap that has a bunch of preservatives in it. So while I don't plan on making these cookies or cakes as regular snacks, The Boy approves of them and they both make for nice treats.

Wordless Wednesday

The 10 Best Things About Not Being Pregnant Anymore - A Listicle

I haven't done one of these in forever! Here's the listicle of the very best things about the past month.

1. It's a tie. Getting to gaze at this little face.

 

 

And being able to give The Boy a proper cuddle.

2. Watching my boys interact with each other. Or rather, watching The Boy talk to The Little Boy.

3. Drinking caffeine with abandon. Well, almost. I am breastfeeding.

4. Alcohol

5. I have ankles.

6. Being able to lay down without feeling like my esophogus has been set on fire.

7. Not being kept on the edge of my seat, wondering when the baby birthing show would get on the road.

8. Having more energy. Even suffering from sleep deprivation can't compete with late third trimester near-narcolepsy.

9. I can move without looking like a Sumo wrestler and grunting like an old man.

10. Being (fairly) certain I have my whole family around me.

 

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The First Day Of School

Yesterday was The Boy's first first day of school. Well, The Boy actually went to summer school three days a week this summer but, as I was on a slack-induced hiatus, I failed to acknowledge it. It was really more of a day care situation anyway. Now, however, I'm all about whoohooing my big boy as he starts school for real. After three all-too-brief years of being joined at the hip with me The Boy is headed off into the great big world.

The Open House was Tuesday morning and it mostly consisted of kids holding on tightly to their parents legs and hands as they sized up the teachers, other kids and toys. Slightly more than a month since the end of summer school and The Boy seemed a bit nervous at first too, but then he saw a collection of puzzles and a train set and qucickly forgot his trepidation.

 

Concerned again when we returned yesterday morning, eyes glassy as he followed me around, I was worried that we'd have a weapy repeat of the first week of summer school.

But he held it together.

 

I think the bounty of toys helped. Whatever. Happy first start of the school year, my sweet boy.

Wordless Wednesday

Different But The Same

In the early morning hours of August 2nd, at 39 weeks and 3 days pregnant, my water broke. I woke in a daze, made a God-awful mess cried as I looked at The Boy's sleeping face - those chubby cheeks, those impossibly long eye lashes - then, 4 hours later, The Little Boy was born.

We left home at 5:30am, had The Little Boy at 8:30am and The Boy came for a visit by lunchtime. All of my angst about being apart from The Boy for days while I labored and recovered was for nought, and The Little Boy's first few hours - first two days, actually - were more like a stay in a not particularly fancy hotel than the shaky, weak, nervous time spent in the hospital after The Boy's birth while I recovered from a stubborn placenta and subsequent blood-loss.

I can even show picture of myself in public because I didn't look like a corpse.

While my super quick labor was far, far more painful this time than last time, the experience afterward was infinitely better. As soon as The Little Boy landed on my chest covered in goo I was in love, alert, thankful and... energetic. It was awesome! And it was made even better when The Boy came by to visit. I had never needed a hug so badly and he was so, so proud.

See...

We brought The Little Boy home two days later to an ecstatic paternal grandmother, a squealing big brother and a cat who barely noticed. Granny left two weeks ago and since then we've settled into our new life - completely different but still basically the same.

One Month Ago Today

The Little Boy was born and The Boy became a big brother.