You know its been a while when...

my brother sends me an email that says I am slacking on my blog.

I was a little surprised myself to see that it has been two weeks without so much as a Wordless Wednesday. As for excuses, I was out of town the first week and last week was busy entertaining diease and pestulance in my humble abode.

I think everyone is better now but geesh it was a rough 10 days. Trust me when I say there are no pictures and that is a good thing. Although, I would belying if I didn't admit that I ought to take a few as no one would believe me otherwise.

So here are few photos from the last two weeks...

 

And a little video - sorry its sideways!

Just when you think you are in the clear...

I am busy. SO BUSY.

This weekend is my sister's baby shower. In DC. I am co-hosting. And I am taking Chubalicious. Mostly, he is accompanying me so Daddy only has to deal with the Notorious MRA. Actually, that is the ONLY reason I am bringing him. Well... that and he is still free to fly.

So with work and public hearings, and trying to save buildings, and plan baby showers, and pack, and blah blah, I don't have a lot of time to dwell.

This not dwelling thing is kinda a good thing.

For example, last night, for no apparent reason, the Notorious MRA pooped in the shower. Yep, right there on the shower floor.

Jonathan and I were mortified. I asked him why he did it. He didn't know. I asked him, "Where are you supposed to poop?" He responded,  "The potty." I asked him if the shower was the potty andhe said no and pointed to the potty so clearly he understands that the shower is NOT the potty. He has been pooping on the potty for months so, what the wuck?

I told him I wasn't reading him a bedtime story because I needed to spend that time cleaning up the poopy shower (In reality, Jonathan cleaned it up - God bless him.). Then I just felt guilty for using reading as a  repercussion.

That's actually what I went to sleep thinking about - how to balance repercussions and punishment. And, what exactly is the appropriate response to pooping in the shower.

And you know what, even though I was all kinds of disgusted. I am so busy that I forgot that he shat in my shower. Until just now. And, I am disgusted all over again.

Blech!

When Its Over, Its Really Over

Sometimes it feels like we have been potty training MRA FOREVER. He has the pee thing down fairly well but the poop thing is still hit or miss. There are days at a time where he uses the potty followed by what seems like weeks at a time of cleaning out poopy underwear.

The other day, though, we had a successful potty experience and decided to reward MRA with a trip to Chick-Fil-A after school. Sadly, one there, the playground was closed and Chubalicious wasn't cooperating.

Jonathan decided to take Chubalicious home leaving me with the Notorious MRA. I tried to make it fun. I told him we were on a date. This is how it went:

Me: Its like a date. An MRA and Mama date!

MRA: A date?!

Me: Yes, a date. When we leave, you are going to have to open the door for me.

MRA: I can open the door.

ME: You should open the car door too. That's what gentleman do on dates.

MRA takes two bites of his sandwich and crawls under the table and out of the booth and begins goofing off in the aisle.

ME: What are you doing?

MRA: Dates over!

I guess I pushed it too far with the car door?

A budding photographer and the one where MRA rats out his Babba

MRA is a budding photographer. Of course, this is no surprise. There is a lot of interest in photography in the family. So, its in his genes. The photos yesterday were MRAs. I find I enjoy seeing the world through his perspective (yeah, I know it is likely less about perspective and more about hand eye cordination but perspective sounds more interesting.)

Here are a few more:

Also, it should be known that it anyone is going to break our rules, MRA - he'll rat you out in a second. He ratted out his beloved Babba last night and didn't think twice.

Backstory: We use bribery  incentives to get MRA to poop on the potty. he particularly likes reeses panut butter eggs. He makes poopy on the potty, he gets an egg. No other time. It is that simple.

He does not get eggs for walking by the bathroom or because he exists - he must use the potty. Unless, apparently, Babba is around.

Last night:

Me to Nanna: Did he use the potty?

Nanna: No, he tried but no.

MRA comes down the stairs seemingly chewing on something.

Me: M. did Nanna give you eggs?

MRA: No.

Me: That's good.

MRA: BABBA DID!!

Awesome.

The One Where He Was SO Scared

When people ask me if MRA is potty trained, I never quite no how to answer. It seems to me that it isn't so black and white. Like one day its all diapers all the time and the next, POW, he seeks out potty independently.

MRA does well with the pee parts and accidents are few and far between. In fact, the accidents are getting fewer and farther between. Great news.

He wears a pull up at night. I just haven't had it in me lately to tackle the night time new wetting and all the laundry that will come with that. But soon, very soon, we are gonna go there.

And then there is the poop. The poop. Yacck. He has a hard time with the poop. Last week, at school, three days in a row, at about the same time of day (at least he is regular) he shat his pants.

The teacher suggested we return to diapers during that time of the day. An idea which I refuse to entertain as I am not sure what going backwards would accomplish. And, anyway, she still has to wipe his butt so I am not sure why she thought this was a good idea.

So this weekend, we told MRA that if he made poop in the potty, we would take him to Chik-fil-A which has a GIANT slide in the window the likes of which I had never seen before. But, MRA, so. wants. the. slide.

Lo and behold, that day, two poops in the potty and off we went for some waffle fries (for him) and some ice tea (for me) and maybe a few char grills for Daddy. MRA hit the room with the giant slide with gusto... until he realized it WAS REALLY BIG.

Up close, the slide was pretty daunting and rendered MRA still and quiet.

With some help, he eventually got to the top, where he realized he was terrified to get down. I had to shimmy up the and giant, and I forgot to mention - twisty, slide in a dress to coax him down. When I got to the top, I grabbed his feet and thought, "Aw, poor MRA, he's so scared his feet are all sweaty and its really cold in here." Then I looked at the platform he was standing on, saw the puddle and the wet shorts. Yep. He peed, right there at the top of the giant slide he got to climb as a treat for pooping.

I got him down the slide and we promptly left. Yeah, we were those people that just left the puddle and left the store.

I guess we need to find a new way to bribe him into pooping.

The Real Pees of Parenthood

We made it out of the Pee zone. What this means is that last weekend, we started ASA on solid foods and MRA on hardcore potty training.

What this translates into is a whole lotta Pureed food, Pee and Poop. Some of you may wonder what the pureed food has to do with it. In a nut shell, once you start giving a baby solid foods (meaning anything not milk), their poop, well, its a different ball game.

Last weekend, we entered the Pee Zone. We just couldn't get away from it... until Wednesday, which is the day that MRA did not poop in his big boy underwear. He made his poo poo in the toilet (yes!), like a big boy (yes!), and he did it at school (even yesser!)

ASA, on the other hand, he is enjoying all sorts of fruit and vegetables and possibly even a tater tot or five. Sure makes colorful surprises. We aren't leaving the Pee Zone anytime soon. But solid foods is super exciting.

The thing that is sad about this is, I am not a person who has ever found toilet humor very humorous but  I am writing about poop and pee and there is such an element of excitement. Aaaahhhh, its just the Pees of parenthood, I guess.

The official first words

Meet Poopy Puppy. As you can see from this photo, Poopy Puppy is pretty special to the Notorious MRA. So special that he, in fact, decorated the top of MRA's first birthday cake. Poopy Puppy goes with MRA most places and certainly is present at all times around the house.

The Backstory: We have a changing area set up in the downstairs guest room so we don't have to run upstairs every hour changing diapers.

During said diaper changes, sometimes, our curious little butterbean likes to explore the undercarriage. 

The exploration seems to occur immediately after diaper removal while you are struggling to open the box of wipes (that never, ever, ever seems to open the right way or the wipe never pulls through the slot so you have to take the damn thing apart with a poopy baby squirming all over creation) or right after you have just slathered the little guy with a handful of butt paste (which he finds very funny, by the way.)

This can be a problem and also disgusting if not addressed. So, we used to hand MRA the puppy to keep him distracted and amused. 

He became the Pooppy Puppy.

The other day, MRA began saying puppup and pointing at Pooppy Puppy. Puppup, puppup, puppup pupup puppup until he got Poopy Puppy in his chubby little hands. His first words, clearly and discriminately - Puppup. He says mamma and dadda, but he says it to a variety of objects including us. Only Poopy Puppy gets the puppup.

So we are talking the other night about this amazing new discovery of speech and Jonathan says, "Is it disturbing that our kid's first words are Poopy Puppy?"

Me: "Ummm, I don't thinks so. It could be worse, it could be butt paste." 

Just the facts, m'am

Last night, my thankfully very reasonable husband told me that I could not draw any conclusions. He DID NOT, however, say that my blog readers could not draw conclusions.

So, here are the (mostly) relevant facts.

About a month ago, we mistakenly bought a tub of the Similac Soy Go and Grow formula as opposed to the regular Similac soy stuff. Soon thereafter, MRA did not so much go and grow as much as he went and went. Diarrhea, that is.

Unfortunately, this occurred right before we were to leave for Denver and after the hospital thing,we are a little diarrhea shy. There was some talk of canceling the trip.

After a few days, we decided to switch back to the formula he is used to and the issue seemed to slowly start to get better. Veeeerrrrrry slowly.

On the way out to Denver, MRA went and went - once at the airport and three more times on the flight. Now, having a baby with this issue on an airplane is not fun for anyone. Its not fun for me, who was doing most of the holding of the baby. Not fun for Jonathan who has to get access to and then rifle through our impossible to get to securely stowed carry on baggage/diaper bag.

Its not fun for the guy in the aisle seat that has to get up every time we need to get out. Its not fun for the already unlucky passenger who got seated in the very last row with the seat that won't recline right next to the lavatory that we have to stand next to in all our stinky glory while waiting for the lavatory to be unoccupied.

Its not fun (for me and even less so for Jonathan who is already cramped in the lavatory when he is all by himself let alone with baby) changing a squirmy baby in a airplane lavatory nor for the person who will be using it after we are done.

But we got through it and as the new/old formula got into his system the diarrhea stopped.

Fast forward to last night.

Those of you with babies or who watch the news probably heard that there is a huge Similac recall. It seems that the people that make Similac "...detected the remote possibility of the presence of a small common beetle in the product produced in one production area in a single manufacturing facility. The ...FDA has determined that while the formula containing these beetles poses no immediate health risk, there is a possibility that infants who consume formula containing the beetles or their larvae, could experience symptoms of gastrointestinal discomfort."

Upon hearing about the Similac recall, I start checking the formula that we are currently using. Luckily, no recall. I then decide to check that old tub of Go and Go Grow. And... voila! Its lot number matches for a recall. It is one of the affected products.

Again, I cannot draw any conclusions but, you can. What's your theory?

A Delayed Response

Most of you know that MRA just served a stint in the hospital after contracting some sort of virus. We sprung him last Wednsday and he is back to his former glory and then some. Since then, time for this blog has been limited. Here are just a few snipets of things that have crossed my mind during the last week and a half.

Hosptials are dirty - One would think that a hospital would be clean and sterile but one would be grossly mistaken.

There are no healthy food options in a hosptial - One would also think that trying to get something such as a piece of fish and some steamed veggies while trapped in a hospital with your sick 9 month old would not be an extraordinary request. On this instance, you have scampered right on past mistake and slammed head first into faux pas.  Doesn't it seem odd that a hospital, a place that is supposed to get you back to healthy, wouldn't have healthy food options? Which makes me think its a conspiracy and that they want people to remain in or return to the hospital - its probably part of their business plan.

It's impossible to get a good night of sleep in a hospital even if you are not the one sick.

Having his dominate arm/hand rendered nearly useless by an IV will not stop MRA from pulling all the tissues out of a box.

Being thrown up on really sucks. Being crapped on sucks more. Being diarrhea-ed on sucks even more than that. Being thrown up on and diarrhea-ed on in one day makes me a little angry. Being told afterward "Welcome to motherhood!" almost got Jonathan killed. Especially when this is, apparently, what fatherhood looked like... 

Yes, Jonathan left the hospital unscathed by vomit or explosive diarrhea.

And, I will leave you with this. In a crisis situation, I discovered that I am pretty darn good. I remain pretty calm, thoughtful, and can make decent decisions based on the information at hand. The stress doesn't bother me. It's after the crisis, in the lull of peace, when the full force of the afore mentioned crisis hits me that I lose it.

Moral of the story, if aliens invade the earth and attempt to destroy civilization, you can count on me to kick some butt and get you to safety. Just don't expect me to re-build your house when its over.  

Poop, poop, more poop... and MAMAMAMA.

This has been the week of Poop. This is the 4th straight day of diarrhea. Morgan, not me. Every morning I have been greeted with MRAs smiling face and a poopsplosion of the worst kind. It has been up the back, out the side, and even around to the front. This is NOT how you want to start the day, especially when wearing white work pants.

There are two possible causes 1.) He has a stomach virus or 2.) He has a milk sensitivity and needs to go back to the soy formula. The verdict is out but I am leaning toward the milk thing and planning to go back to soy this evening.

In a BP like attempt to stop the gush, we fed MRA lots of bananas and sweet potato fries last night, hoping, no praying that this morning would be different. Did it work, not a chance.

However, I'm pretty sure MRA said MAMA at me last night. It was actually more of a MAMAMAMAMAM MA MAMAMA. But, he said it with such determination and conviction that I am sure it was with recognition and declaration.

What do you think? I mean, he's talking to me - not the fries, right? Naysayers need not apply.

Colored Mashed Potatos; These Are the Chapters of My Life

Several years ago, Jonathan and I went to a hot, new, trendy restaurant as we typically did on most weekends. I don't remember the name but what I do remember is the purple mashed potatoes. They were made with Peruvian potatoes and had the perfect amount of butter and garlic. They were amazing and I like purple - they were fun.

Purple is a rather unexpected color to see on your plate - but they presented well and the foodie side of me appreciated that. Part of the dinner conversation revolved around said mashed potatoes: what a unique color, where in Peru did they come from? Could we get them locally? Had we just been missing them this whole time in the produce aisle? And if we did find them would we really prepare them... probably not. It is much better to go out and get them! They were delicious.

Fast forward several years. I get a phone call from Jonathan recently at work:

Me: How did the Notorious MRA do this morning?

J: Uuummmm, not bad. But we had a two-person poo this morning.

Me: That sucks.

J: Yeah, uh, it was pretty bad. And it was the worst smelling poop yet. And it was the consistency of mashed potatoes and green. Green mashed potatoes.

Me: Eeeeewww. I think the consistency and smell changes when he starts solids so this is probably normal but gross.

J: I have never seen anything like it. It was a sideways poo and an up the back poo and I was trying to clean it up and he just reached down and grabbed his balls in the middle of it. With green mashed potatoes.

Me (trying not to fall off my chair from laughing): Really? I think it is fairly normal but gross.

J: I'm telling ya, you are gonna see the green mashed potatoes. Its bad. Real bad.


Hmmm, I wonder what color the mashed potatoes will be in the next chapter of my life. Any predictions?