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Happy Halloween! Let’s Talk About Poo

When I was pregnant with Carson, I signed up to receive email updates of the baby’s development from BabyCenter. “Your baby is the size of a kumquat and weighs 3 grams! Only 9 gazillion days to go!” “Your baby should be able to recite the Ides of March by today. Your baby responds to music now and can dance a jig on your bladder!”

Once he was born, I continued to receive updates about what developmental milestones he should be reaching. “Your 3 month old should be rolling over and completing basic calculus now!” “At 14 months, your child is probably speaking in complex sentences, paragraphs really, and able to cook a souffle with little assistance in the kitchen!”

Carson has been two years old for all of three days and BabyCenter has proclaimed it’s time to start potty training.

This is straight from the email:

“Happy birthday to your 2-year-old! Many 2-year-olds — girls especially — are ready to start potty training. If your child can pull her pants up and down, follow simple instructions, stay dry for three or four hours (a sign that her bladder muscles are developed enough to hold urine), and dislikes being in a dirty diaper, bring out the potty seat. If she’s not ready, back off and try again in a month or two.”

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!

Carson is so not ready. SO not ready. Sure he can pull down his pants, but only when he up and decides, “hey, I think wearing only diaper would be more convenient as I lay on the floor and play with Thomas and Henry!” Staying dry? Um, no. Dislikes being in a dirty diaper? Haaa! Ha! Ha! Ha ha! Haaaaa! Yeah, uh, no. In fact, he is perfectly content sitting in his own filth for as long as it takes me to notice the stench. Even when he is clearly in the midst of going poop, he will deny that he is pooping with a furrowed brown accompanied by emphatic “NOOOOO!’s”.

I could write an entire post detailing the alligator wrasslin’ I go through just to change his diaper. I’ve become adept at wiping his bucking butt while getting very little poop on my hands. They should offer f*cking gold medals in Carson Diaper Changing. I’d totally get to stand on the platform and hear the national anthem.

Being completely unready for potty training does not have me worried, however. Scared to begin potty training, yes. Scared that Carson is clearly not ready, no. Am I just being naive? It seems to me that he’s only just turned two, and I thought you just wanted kids potty trained by around three. Is that even right? And when we do start potty training, I don’t even know where to begin.

I need an online “tootorial” to help me in the potty training department.

That was the worst joke ever.

My apologies.

Please enjoy this picture of Carson making some movie magic (a term Tate coined to describe pooping.) It’s not my best photography work, but it makes me giggle anyhow.

[picture removed]

*****
PS. I’ve started deleting pictures of my kids from old posts. I’ve been getting lots of images.google searches that are starting to freak me out. I also signed up for photrade dot com so that I could get a watermark on the pictures to make them harder to steal. I hate that the watermark says something about purchasing the pictures, since they really aren’t for sale. It would be creepy if someone wanted to buy one.

PSS. Happy Halloween! Carson is supposed to be Blue from Blue’s Clues, but he RE. Fuse. Es. to put on the costume. So I guess he’ll be a baseball player instead. Ella is going to be a pumpkin! A chubby, adorable, nummy nummy pumpkin. Pictures tomorrow fo’ sho’.

PSSS. Today is also my Mom’s birthday! Happy birthday, MOM!! Wish I could take you to lunch!

PSSSS. Also! (I’m almost done, swear to God, cross my heart) Eight years ago today, Tate and I became engaged! More on our fairytale romance (or hook-up really, not much romance. Sigh) during the month of November when I have to post every facking day for NaBloPoMo.

Spite and $10 Glasses of Wine

You did not misread the title, I also did not misspell. It isn’t supposed to say SpRite and $10 glasses of wine or Spit and $10 glasses of wine. Just so we’re clear.

Let’s begin with spite, as in, cutting off my nose to spite my face. This is one aspect of my personality that makes me ever so fun to live with. Piss me off and I’ll just one up you and make myself miserable trying to punish you! God, I’m fun! And borderline asshole. Aaaaaaanyway, Tate and I had a date planned last night since my in laws are in town and we actually had babysitters. In all actuality, I had a vision of a date in my head, complete with Tate having made reservations at a swanky, non-chain restaurant, me looking tall and slender in a gorgeous new outfit, and drinking wine and laughing over conversation that did not include the words tantrum, whining, or diaper blow-outs. The problem here arose when Tate arrived home and had forgotten about our planned date (and I’m never going to look tall at 5′2″, I don’t have any new clothes, and I’m completely unable to have adult conversation.)

Before grabbing your pitchforks and torches to go on a Tate manhunt, he is not really the bad guy in this story. Yes he forgot, yes he can be an oaf at times, yes he hurt my feelings, blah, blah, blah, but he felt really, really bad when he did finally remember. Upon remembering, he suggested that we go out after the kids went to bed. Here’s where my spiteful self almost lost the proverbial nose.

I refused. I pouted. I said, “oh, but you hurt my feeeeeeelings.” “You should have remembered.” “If you had really wanted to go, you wouldn’t have forgotten.” “I will not go out to dinner with you.” See? I told you I was borderline asshole.

But Tate was relentless because he knows of my spiteful, self destructive ways. He knew I wanted to go, he knew I wanted him to grovel. He’s a good guy, forgetful at times, but good nonetheless. I relented and agreed to go out with him. Crisis averted.

Luckily I realized that just because he forgot, did not mean that we shouldn’t take full advantage of our free (and rare) babysitting services. We went to dinner and semi-enjoyed outrageously priced seafood, slow service, and 3 glasses of wine (1 for Tate, 2 for me.)

When the bill arrived, we were shocked to see that the wine was $10 a glass. A GLASS. A GLASS! Ohmyfackinggodyougottabekiddingme! Keeping with my (previously) spiteful ways, I should refuse to drink any wine for the next month as punishment for consuming such expensive cheap wine. No wine for me! One month! But really, who is that helping? Isn’t that just cutting off my nose to spite my face? I think I’ve learned my lesson.

Wine is back on my menu! Crisis averted.

Duck! Here Come the Bullets!! Version 2 y.o.

For those of us busy moms on the go, here is a brief synopsis of several posts in my head presented in handy and convenient bulleted list form.

  • Yesterday’s photo montage has been taken down since every time I tried to watch it, my computer would lock up. So sorry if it caused you the same hassle.
  • Speaking of yesterday’s post, I tried and tried to write a sentimental letter for Carson, but I kept focusing on his colicky start to life and writing sentences like “I’d have given you away if a nice couple had by happenstance, knocked on our door and offered to give you a loving home.”
  • Carson’s party went off fabulously, the only spill was my own. My kitchen floor has yet to be mopped, which MUST happen rather soon or it’s possible our feet could become permanently affixed to the lemonade covered floor.
  • Carson chose the day of his party to lay off the incessant whining of which he’s suddenly become the resident expert. All party attendees should be eternally grateful. I for one, am eternally grateful for this unexpected day of respite from his whining. On Friday he whined so much while I was failing at decorating his baseball cupcakes, I had to put him in his room for his own safety.
  • His excitement for the Thomas the Train videos that he received courtesy of The Queen of Shake-Shake, by far surpassed the excitement of any gift Tate or I gave him. He rejected the Hi-5 video with disdain, was befuddled by the Mr. Potato Head, and rode his 4 wheeler for all of 2 minutes.
  • Baked beans could very well end up being the catalyst for beginning marriage counseling. I was heard saying this sentence on Saturday, “Yes, Tate, they are delicious, but nobody should eat that many baked beans at one sitting. If you eat all of those, you’ll be sleeping on the couch.” Check out my recipe blog for the recipe. They really are great, but should be eaten in small doses that can be managed effectively in your body.
  • Have I mentioned I got a new camera? No? That’s odd, I’m sure I’d mentioned it since I love it so freaking much…Anyway enjoy a few pics from this weekend. And yes, Janet, I do have a few pictures of Ella, but sadly far fewer than I have of Carson.

Two

Two! How can it be?
It does not seem possible
My heart is so changed

The highest of highs
Joy is now exponential
Life is now so full

Happy birthday, son!
Mommy and Daddy love you!
Always, forever

Don’t feel obligated to watch this ridiculously long montage of photographs from Carson’s first two years if you’re not 1) his father, 2) me, 3) or anyone else for that matter.

[Photo montage removed because it was causing my computer to lock up. Dammit.]

Haiku Overwhelmed

Haiku Friday

Made a to-do list
I ignored the to-do list
Now I am scu-rewed

Making the icing
Decorating the cupcakes
It will take all day

My house is a mess
I don’t have time to shower
Stinky all around

Ella up three times
She was sleeping through the night?
I could use a nap

No time to myself
Already three weeks behind
Reading your haiku

Will try to catch up
By the year 20-09
Bad blog citizen

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1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn’t go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Christina or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

Making My Case for Wrapping Paper

Here at Playgroups are No Place for Children, I like to tackle important issues. We have discussed many important issues as Ovaltine consumption, surviving the mob aka Children’s Book of the Month Club, and S-E-X. Today’s topic is wrapping paper versus gift bags.

With Carson’s birthday coming up THIS SUNDAY (holy shit where the hell did TWO YEARS go?), I’ve been in the midst of party planning, baking, and shopping. I’ve been imagining the joy on my son’s face as he opens his presents. This little daydream of mine includes him ripping the paper of lovingly wrapped gifts and gleaming from ear to ear as he revels in the fantasticness of it all. This fantasy most definitely DOES NOT include gift bags.

Sadly, gift bags seems to be taking over the world. I’ve tried and tried to find Thomas the Train wrapping paper only to be mocked at every turn by Thomas the Train gift bags. When my parents visited this past weekend, they brought Carson’s birthday gifts. They brought birthday gifts in gift bags. I died a little on the inside, watching him opening these bagged gifts. Something is just lost when you don’t get to tear paper to reveal the prize inside.

I’m guilty of caving in to the lure of the gift bag. For one, it’s easy, quick, and they can be reused which is good in our disposable society. (See how I can make a lame topic ever so relevant!) But I can’t help but feel sad that children in the future are going to miss out on the joy that is unwrapping a gift. It’s like a sacred right of childhood (and adulthood, for that matter) is being replaced by the gift bag.

To quickly summarize,
Ripping open a wrapped gift…good!!
Saving the planet with reusable gift bags…good, but takes away joy from our children!
Taking away joy from a child…BAD! Very, very bad!!

Please consider this the next time you have to choose between wrapping a gift or simply shoving it in a gift bag. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

PS. To those of you who may be attending Carson’s party, it’s totally fine if his present is in a gift bag. Totally. Fine. Really. Not that we expect a gift! No! But in the event that you bring a gift I’ll we’ll survive if it’s in a bag.

Wordless Wednesday, Now With More Bragging!

What did you ask?

Why yes! This picture was taken with my brand new camera! My brand new Power Shot S5 IS!

/brag

Click here for more Wordless Wednesday.