How To Play The Penis Game

We have a boy. He loves his wang. He has recently started to belt out  "Penis" for no reason and out of the blue. This is how we play:

He randomly says "Penis". We could be eating breakfast, tying his shoe, playing trains at grandmas, whatever. You have to say "books" or "carpet" or "zipper". It's extremely hard not to say "vagina". 

See, this is not a game I want to play or that we have taught him about. It's anti-playing. He belts out "penis" and very quickly we have to reply with a word that has nothing to do with penis. A word to change the subject, to essentially kill the penis. It's hard. 

When people normally play this word play game, you say a word and generally say a word that coincides with said word. Such as "peanut butter" and "cracker" or "bird" and "fly". I think "vagina" might be a popular answer when saying "penis". Well, he does it so randomly it forces my mind to jumble and it takes all I have to spurt out "wall" and not "vagina" or something worse. If I say the V word, it's over. He is in hysterics, body parts will be said and the penis will be loved all the more. 

So far we are winning. He is getting creative with answers to our words. It's actually fun. He tried it at the grocery store though. On his dads shoulders. We were surrounded by T Day shoppers. Daddy put the kabosh on our game.

Bloody Nose

I do the ultimate no no. I sleep with my daughter still. Why? Well because she is loud. My husband wakes up at 4 and we have no time to deal with a screaming Kiki in another room. So, she sleeps with me where I can silence her quickly and not wake the money maker. 

You know what though, I don't care she still sleeps with me. I like it. I love listening to her, I love smelling her and I love kissing her. I know that one day it will stop. She might be much older but guess what? It will stop one day and I know this. So it doesn't bother me or stress me out. 

It isn't perfect though. She has an internal alarm clock set for 7am. I stay up late. 7am is not my ideal wake up time. But I do it because again, she is loud and quite persistent. Sometimes it's fun to just lay in bed and have her crawl and chat all over me. It doesn't last long because her brother has inevitably climbed in sometime during the wee hours and is sleeping with us. So, we get up and let him sleep a few minutes longer. 

This morning though was horrifying. Kikis alarm went off before James got up. She was being so loud I had to whisk her off to her room to sleep. Will woke us up this time. He was quiet but still, her conscious heard her brother and got her so excited she woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed. Me? I was so tired. I lay there with my eyes closed tired from being up late and tired from our move. The kids played and chatted. It was fun hugging them both and kissing them. I was having a lovely start to my day. Then Kiki slapped me in the face and magically had a finger go straight up my nose causing blood to come gushing out of it. 

I hate bloody noses. My brother used to have one everyday for years. Yuck. I had blood all over my mouth and neck and fingers. Oh. I should also inform you, it's pitch black in this room and I am super blind without my lenses. So, I have no ideas where the blood is going, I can't see anything and I have to pull myself up, away from the needy children and stumble to the bathroom. Kiki is now screaming because she wants me to hold her but I won't mostly because I am mad but also because I have to clean up. Will is doing great considering the horror show his mother looks like. 

My day was shot. I felt sick. I had a headache that was intermittent. I had flashbacks to the horror my day started with. Will never gave me a bloody nose. Of course my daughter would. 

A Dead Mouse In The Playhouse

It's very cold these days and it's about to get colder. Going outside isn't my #1 choice with the kidlets these days. Today though was sunny and pretty. It was cold though. I thought I could open up the playhouse, clean off the table that we are using for Thanksgiving and wait for James to come home. Wrong.

We got outside and we were all excited. I opened up the playhouse and went to open the smaller door. That's when I saw it. My door had been chewed down. Wood chips were everywhere. Then I started to notice mass amounts of turds on the floor. As I start freaking out I notice the other door has also been chewed. I sniff the air to see if I smell a dead rat. Nope, but that doesn't mean anything. Luckily Keely can walk so she isn't face to face with the turds and she is actually outside trying to ride a bike. Will is good, I tell him what's up and to stay outside. I run inside and grab the vacuum. I hurry back out asking Will if Kiki is still outside. We are good. I start the vacuum. Up go the turds and wood chips. I start picking up toys that were left on the floor only to find the rat ate some of them and destroyed them. It ate a bunch of fake plastic fruits and veggies. It also ate a rhino Will got from our neighbor. She bought it in Africa. I loved that thing. It ate a few paint samples I had collected. I lifted slowly a blanket left on the floor to see a large, hairy mass. I screamed. James thankfully was just walking on the scene. I ran out of the playhouse. I gagged and raged a moment on the lawn. He took the kids to swing. I decided to be a big girl and get the SOB out of there. I grabbed a flat shovel and walked back in. James said he would do it but I insisted on doing it. I asked his advice on where it should go. I got it on the shovel and brought it into the light. It was so sweet. It looked like it had just fallen asleep and never woke back up. It's fur looked soft, not matted or greasy or gross. It was fat. It may have been pregnant. I was a little sad. But, it's a nasty rodent and into the neighbors empty lot it went.

I have no clue how it got in there. Obviously it entered when we were in it. Where it hid I have no clue. I am so pissed it chewed both of the doors. When cleaning I could find no spot of entry. I will look again. I now have to take some anti-bacterial wipes and wipe everything down. I found a turd in the kitchen toy they have. I may throw it out. 

Pumpkin French Toast

You know how you are browsing Pinterest and an amazing looking/sounding recipe comes up? You click the links and get to your desired page only to have the blogger blah, blah, freaking blah about some BS story you could give two shits about? Yeah. I hate that.  I scroll and scroll to the bottom to see what the hell the recipe entails. I cant tell you how many stores I have been in, checking my Pinterest board on slow internet only to finally get there and become more frazzled because this air bag wont shut up and get to the recipe. Honestly and sadly I don't care about how you stayed in all weekend fat- assing around the house cooking for your man. Show me the recipe. Oh, you loved mothers day? You loved seeing your best friend? You did what with your kids?
You have been on some epic journey in your life? Don't Freaking Care. Your picture looked amazing, show me what the hell is in it. This blog is an ode to all those blogs I see out there getting between me and my information. Its also a request from the woman whose house I made this in.

Ingredients:
1 bag of Franz Pumpkin loaf that you found at Target morning of your husbands birthday
6 eggs that your friend loaned you and later find out your husband thought it was "too eggy"
Coffee Creamer- Should be milk, whatevs. I used her coffee creamer and I have no idea how much I used
1 whole freaking stick of butter you do not have to use.
1 Honey Crisp apple you got off the Doornink family farm that you didn't intend to use and jacked it off her counter

In one of those annoying blogs I read about making this baked french toast it said to take a stick of butter and melt it all over your glass pan. I did. Then I realized that it was soaking over night in the fridge and that stick of butter was really pointless. So, onto the real work. Take two slices of bread and stick them in the pan. Cut your apple into very slim slices. Lay two slices on each piece of bread and repeat until the pan is covered and the bread is gone. It's perfect for you OCD cooks. Any extra apple slices stick in the middle of the two lines of bread. Forget about it.

Next, crack all your eggs and whip them with whatever milk substance you have in the fridge. Beautiful. Finally, pour it over your bread and apples. Go slowly, make sure you at least try and cover every square inch of bread in the pan. Don't freak out if you can't. Now, take that beauty and find some room in your fridge for it. Soak it all night.

In the morning when you are ready to cook, turn the oven on 350 and cook for like 30 minutes I think. Maybe 25. Not really sure. Just don't burn the bread. The final product turns out more like toast with a french toast influence. Pour some syrup on it and feed your loved ones.

A Heavy Drinker

My husband has been concerned for a long time about our son drinking from a bottle and being 2.  He was of the mindset that Will needed to ditch the bottle.  I was honestly cool with the bottle.  To be perfectly honest, I freaking hate sippy cups.  The leak like crazy, they grow mildew in hard to clean places and when you are looking for the one lid that matches it, its gone. The kids leave them tipped over and they spill. I just cant stand them.  Bottles were easy.  Sure, I hated cleaning them but they didn't royally leak and I had so many of them that finding a matching lid was a piece of cake. This past weekend, that all came to a stop.

A few weeks ago we put the halt on the heavy consumption of bottles.  We made them for nap time and bed time only.  This was great because I didn't have to wash SO many bottles. Will cried about it but eventually took his cup for drinks.  He did not however drink as much as he did when he drank from the bottle.  The cups just didn't do it for him. This was not a plus in my book.  Fluids are good and he was not hydrating at the rate he used to be.

Around this time it was becoming more and more clear that our daughter was not going to be a bottle drinker.  They did not do it for her.  This bothered me greatly because I had no alternative for when the boobing was to stop.  It was exciting thinking about being potentially done with bottles but I was at a loss as to how to put her down for naps and bed time.  Will had me trained.  Give a kid a bottle and you are good to go.  Now, I had to stop giving one a bottle and the other wouldn't take one.

That left me with needing to find the perfect cup.  HA! Even if I did find it, Kiki likes to take one sip, a gigantic sip, come up for air and on the next sip proceed to dribble it out her mouth.  Its so awesome.  Just as I am getting her figured out with a regular bed routine and watering routine we leave for our annual hot rod show in Oregon.  Wouldn't you know, I forgot to pack a bottle.  Genius Mom.  I did pack the kids matching straw cups which they were doing wonderfully with.  James decided to take this past weekend as the bottle breaking weekend.  I was stressed.

Our routine goes as such: I put Kiki down, James puts Will down.  Will is kinda weird in that he needs someone to hand out with when going to bed.  He is just like his dad and hates to be alone.  He has done this since birth.  Whenever I nursed him to sleep and put him in his crib no matter how long he had been asleep for, as soon as my arm was out from under him he was up and upset.  It got to be so ridiculous and exhausting for me I just brought him in and he slept with us.  One day he wanted to sleep in his own bed but after we moved into our new home he needed someone to hang out with him while he fell asleep.  James, hating to be alone, jumped at the chance.  If one of the kids does not go down though we run a huge risk of said child waking up other child.  My stress at not having a bottle was quite understandable.  It is a feat getting Kiki to sleep.  Not a hard feat but a feat and since we were all in the same room and Will had no bottle I was thinking it would be a long night.

It wasnt.  He drank milk from the straw cup after coming to terms with the fact that I forgot a bottle.  It took him a minute but he was quiet and went down rather easily.  The second night was crazy.  Kiki fell asleep on me while out for an evening walk and Will did the same.  It was too easy.

The third night we were back home.  In Wills room while getting him in pajamas I told him that I gave all our bottles to the Good Cheer.  I lied.  I told him that some little boy and his momma really needed the bottles and we gave them ours.  He laid on his bed and cried.  I let him cry and went into the kitchen to make him some milk in a cup.  James came in to his room and with just a few words had Will okay with drinking from a cup.  I hid the bottles in the cupboard in a paper bag and made the milk.  We tried one of the old sippy cups tonight as an experiment.  I put Kiki down and came out to work on the computer thinking everyone had fallen asleep.  Once settled in and working away happily James came out and let me know I was on Will duty.  On a side note, James wakes up at 3:30am so when Will doesn't go down it becomes my job to balance both kids sleeping.  Will let out a cry and woke up Kiki.  I rushed in, got her back to sleep, rushed in to Wills room to relieve James and proceeded to sing I've Been Working On the Railroad 9  times.  I finally stopped and I stopped answering his questions.  After a lot of tossing and turning, a lot of staring at me, the ceiling and the wall, after playing with my face and getting the blankets on and off he fell asleep.  I was going to wash the bottles I have in the sink but I am too tired and have even more pressing work than that to do.

So it begins. The weaning of two children.  One is good, the other is just beginning.  It may actually go quite smoothly considering everything that I have stressed about and then done has honestly gone quite well.  Its no easy task though and it bothers me greatly.  I am just thankful wedding season is over and I can stop thinking about how these kids better sleep so I can work.  Oh wait, that will never happen.

The Dairy Is Closed

It's so sad and yet so strange that its sad. I am not a fan of nursing. It's very time consuming. I hate wearing the nursing tanks, they are too hot. Yet nursing provides such an amazing bond with babies. I also know its the best thing for them. It literally sucks though.

With my son I had to go back to work. I pumped for 9 months, which was torture. He was half breast milk and half formula. The only reason I weaned him after a year was because I found out I was pregnant and I was told by my doctor I needed to stop. He only had boob milk at night anyway to put him to sleep. I stopped boobing the next day. It wasn't an ish. He didn't miss it, it never hurt and only when he cried from being hurt did I miss it. 

My daughter though was a different story. I gave away my pump because I knew I was 99% sure I was not going back to work. She had formula once when I had a dentist appointment and was fine with the bottle. A few weeks later I had another dentist appointment. This time it went horrible. She threw up for the next 24 hours and wouldn't touch a bottle or formula for almost a year. This was very stressing. She drinks a few sips from a bottle now that she is a year but she won't nurse it. She drinks from straws best and some sippy cups. She will not drink cows milk. Not warm, not cold, not anything. Argh. 

I think I weaned her out of guilt and frustration. My son was a year when weaned and I couldn't justify giving her a longer nursing period than him. Granted, she had more milk than he did, I couldn't grapple the idea of nursing her for who knows how long and only giving him a year. Also, she is a mommas girl. She won't let anyone hold her and really only let her dad take her a few months ago. I work as a photographer and I leave her for 10 hours to shoot a gig sometimes. Having her dependent on me was becoming a stressful problem. So I quit one day. It was without warning. I just decided no more. She did great. To put her to sleep I take her in her room, hold her in my arms, rock back and forth and sing in a whisper. She is asleep in less than 20 minutes. It's kinda awesome.

At the same time though I became depressed. My boobs became so painful I wanted to cry. They leaked also when I held her. I was incredibly sad. This freaked me out a bit.  I ate a ton of chocolate and when that ran out I baked a batch of cookies and pretty much ate them all. I didn't leave the house for 2 days. I didn't tell anyone I weaned her. Not even my husband.  I was incredibly strange about it.  After 2 days I couldnt take it. I burst into tears when I told my husband.  The crying helped the pain go away but 2 weeks later I am STILL leaking milk.  

I believed those nurses when they told me I needed to pump and feed or the milk would run out.  I believed theses stories about how you needed to release the milk or you would run out. I guess with my son it was true but with my daughter it is a different and annoying story.  My boobs go in and out of feeling like a rock.  I leak milk when I hold her against me.  I wonder if its my body or nature telling me I weaned her too early.  Then I remind myself thats ludicrous and I keep cleaning the house. 

So its done.  I feel better.  The stress of putting her to sleep without the boob is over.  I need to get a rocker because my back is killing me. Next milestone is getting her to fall asleep with her dad rocking and singing.  Once that is done grandmas are next and then DATE NIGHT!!! 

Can I Poop Off The Deck?

I am not one to complain when it's hot. I detest winter and will complain and wish for heat. So when the heat comes, I do my best to suck it up. I tell you though, this heat is a bitch when you are in a hot ass bathroom with a sweaty hot 2 year old clinging to you while he tries to poop.

That's been my world these days. Potty training, I am not gonna lie is going exceedingly well. In the morning his diaper is dry and he asks to use the potty. He seems to actually be bothered by a pee pee diaper. The last few nights have been hot. Very, very hot. Kiki won't fall asleep and tonight Will joined her. James tried to put him down but after the second bottle of milk gave up. I played with the kids for an hour in our cooler room. Will was being very bizarre. He wanted to be held which means he is putting something off he has to do. I finally got it out of him. He did not like the pee in his diaper. I told him to just take it off. He did. Then peed in the toilet. I decided tonight was the night. If he pees the bed, so be it. I put a thick blanket under him. I told him if he wakes up from peeing to not cry. I let him know he was not going to be in trouble and to just come to Kikis room where he could find me. He agreed. Now, we wait and see. So, while we wait, let's talk about the huge poop he took off his grandmothers deck into her plants right after I sweated it out in his grandparents bathroom.

This whole pooping off the deck was never serious. He is a boy so he was taught to pee off the deck. Peeing naturally turned to wanting to poop off the deck. Everyone was horrified and he was told of course not to. He began threatening us. He would put his butt against the deck railings and announce he was pooping. After some panic and profuse explaining that we don't poop off the deck we all believed him less and less. He make the exclamations more for our reactions than really pooping off the deck. This has gone on for months. Then today he left the dinner table, walked out onto the deck, put his tiny butt between to railings and pooped into some plants. He leaves the dinner table a lot. He isn't a big eater and after a few bites, he is way over sitting down. He usually comes back for a bite when you call him back to do so. So when I told him to come have a bite and he responded that he was pooping off the deck no one believed him. I gave him a couple minutes, called him again and was once again told that he was pooping. I made a joke that he was taking too long and should come run to me to get his bowels going. That's when we saw it. The poop face. We saw the poop face then watched in horror as he looked over the deck to see his masterpiece. We knew it then. When he looked down we knew the deed had been done. I was stuck in my chair. I could not wrap my head around it. James got up to verify what we already knew. Sure enough, broken into 3 bits was a huge poop. WTF?! We had to then launch into a serious talk about no pooping off the deck. I told Bob to not mention it to Diana. She would have a fit whereas Bob stated he was proud. Oh Bob. Still, that leaves me a little miffed. I sat through 2 days of hot ass bathroom with Wills sweaty clingy body on mine as he told me over and over he didn't have to poop and then sure enough dropped the deuce.

Yesterday was truly the worst. He relentlessly picks at his butt so you know he has to go. He denies it the whole way. Then, he suddenly announces he has to poop and I shuttle him in to the bathroom. I get him pants less, prop his tiny boy body precariously on the toilet seat only to have him look me in the eye and say ever so sweetly "I don't have to poop". I have to stick it out. This part sucks balls. I have him leaning on me because he is scared of falling in. I have Keely crawling around the bathroom and Will is freaked out she's gonna climb into the toilet. Yesterday at Bob and Diana's I had to shut the bathroom door with all three of us in there because I needed to watch her. It got very hot, very quickly. Then James came in to tell me he and Will had done this trying to poop thing 20 times that day. He tried to convince me to quit. I persevered. I knew that poop was in there. It had to come out. I massaged his belly, looked deep into his eyes and after 10 wretched minutes of sitting on a bathroom floor with a sweaty boy and a crawling baby we got a tiny turd out. 

Today was much better. Will again wouldn't stop grabbing his butt. He begged for someone to go with him and I finally snapped and took him in. I knew that poop would come. Leaving the bathroom door open I got him on the seat, assured him he wouldn't fall, listened as he told me he didn't have to poop, explained to him that I knew he had to and why when suddenly his hand grasped my shoulder hard and I saw the poop face. I watched a fairly decent sized turd slowly emerge from his butt. It landed and he was quick to hop off and check it out. I told him it was the biggest poop of his life. I had no idea that within the hour the biggest poop of his life would be delivered off his grandmothers deck. Still, we got out of there in good time but I was hot. So stifling hot. I had a drink of water and tried to regain normalcy. 

So there you have it. More trials and tribulations surrounding potty training. A story of things you would never dream of preparing yourself for in the saga of potty training. It's not over yet though folks. I still don't know how tonight ends.

Potty Training Cold Turkey

Fuck you books and blogs and advice from parents who have succeeded. Fuck you parents who are doing it now. This is how I had to do it and I hated it.

I have tried several times to potty train Will. All to no avail. It's flat out not easy. Be prepared for lots of tears, fits, hitting, piss and shit all over your floor. No book is gonna teach you, no blog post is going to give you the magic clue and no friend is going to light your way. Our training is not over but we are officially on the road. 

For me it was difficult because we had our second before our first was remotely close to being trained. Having a new baby is hard work. They are demanding and they win the attention. Potty training a child has to be like a newborn babe on the tit, constant. So when you have two demanding things one usually wins out over the other. Potty training took a backseat. We got Will a potty, we got him books, we got him underwear and I bought him a special seat that rests on the big potty. Over the course of a year these were introduced, talked about, mildly used but never firmly grasped. Four days ago I said Fuck It. This is how it's going to be now.

Will is a huge juice drinker. He is an addict. He wakes up and literally asks for juice. He insists on a bottle. This bottle business will be my next battle. So the boy pees. A lot. His disposable diapers hold it but one pee and they are through. I was exhausted changing diapers all day. Plus, they are not cheap. I thought about it. It's cheaper to wash his pee clothes than buy his diapers. Also, I have like 3 seconds to change him when I get the chance and he loves to fight me. He won't lay down, he flails his legs and he rolls all over. No, no, no. Fuck That. You go pee in the toilet. I am done son. 

The first day he peed his pants every single time he had to pee. He then sobbed and demanded/pleaded for a diaper. I just told him his diapers no longer fit him. I told him he peed to much for the diaper and they couldn't hold it anymore. That night i put him in his diaper to sleep and he pooped. We changed him and sent him off to sleep. The second day we stayed on him. We asked him every five minutes if he had to pee. He peed his pants a couple times and used to potty a couple times. He threw a huge fit where he hit me repeatedly. Through swats I had to just say to him he wasn't in trouble. I just said I expected this and it was okay. He did go in time out but my words stayed with him. He did not poop that day. The third day he was better and so were we. We started learning his signs for needing to pee. We turned him on to peeing on things like Cheerios in the toilet. In the early afternoon he tricked me. I was busy making him lunch and he asked if he could poop. I of course said yes only to realize that he wasn't going off to poop, he was pooping in his underwear. My realization was too late. I calmly stopped what I was doing and we went to clean him up. He was quite upset but I remained calm and cool. We plopped the turd in the toilet and he loved wiping his butt with TP. 

Today was day 4. He would either tell me straight up he had to pee or I would see he had to go and tell him to go try. Every time I say go try he refuses. A few minutes later he would tell me he has to go. Now, mind you, I have to go with him every time. He is too small to operate flawlessly. He has trouble getting the pants down, he has to be reminded to go all the way to the potty with his feet on the stool, sometimes he needs a hand to get up on the stool, he has to be reminded to wipe his wiener, he needs help tearing the TP off, he needs help pulling his pants up and he has trouble getting the handle far enough to flush. Sometimes I have a 10 month old crawling all over us and the toilet while this is going on. Today though he pooped in the potty. He actually did it. He told me he needed to and he did it. It took a lot of asking but he finally caved. Usually he just sits on the potty for an hour if you let him. He is freaked out by pooping in the toilet. When he saw my excitement after we heard that plop he got jazzed. He knew he pleased me and he liked it. He flushed for the first time by using both hands. Call me a freak but I took a picture. He smiled for me. He never does that for pictures anymore. He loved it so much he talked about it several times during the day and told his dad when he got home. Tonight, we put his diaper on. He questions us why he gets put in a diaper then and not the rest of the day. I told him it was because he doesn't pee much at night and we will stop once he learns he needs to pee in the middle of the night and goes by himself. He was playing and I was about to say goodnight to him so I could put his sister down when I saw the face. The pooping face. I should have known. I saw it moments earlier and maybe I could have saved it but again, I was distracted. I asked him if he was pooping. He started to cry. He told me he wanted to poop in his potty. It was so so sweet. I took him crying and his fussy crying exhausted sister to the bathroom. We got him out of his zipped up jammies, pulled of the poopy diaper and had him try to poop some more. He wanted to put the diaper poop in the toilet to flush it. I love that boy.

I would now like to share some secrets and explain that the stars aligned to make this happen. This process did start during the summer. It also started on Saturday morning over a weekend my husband was home. Monday and Tuesday my mom was helping me. I give him grape juice so he has to poop. A super bonus was his girl crush neighbor friend who is 9 months older and trained left a surprise poop in our potty when I was encouraging trying to go potty. She jumped at the chance to potty, explained to Will that she loved his Cars themed toilet seat and unbeknownst to us pooped. Either she didn't flush or it didn't go down but it helped telling Will that his favorite person pooped in his potty. Also, I haven't left the house. Tomorrow I will and I will leave with my purse containing a towel.

The Barkers

The other night I didn't think I was sleeping. Then I felt like I was traveling through a tunnel where awake was at the end. Barking brought me out of the sleep I didn't think I was in. 

It was our first hot night of the year. Before I went to bed, I opened a window for cool air. When I awoke I was so mad I had done that. I thought for sure we wouldn't hear the barking if the windows were closed. Keely was nursing though so I couldn't get up. Then James woke up. Him waking up is worse than a kid waking up. He doesn't go back to sleep. He has to wake up at 3:30AM. If something keeps him up I get so mad. Keely fell off right about then. I apologized to James for opening the window and I shut it. It did not work. I spent the next few minutes festering in my anger and getting angrier. 

I got up. Now, I am blind. Really blind. I can't see a damn thing. I am fumbling around for pants and a shirt and choosing solely by texture of what my hands grab. James asks what I am doing. I tell him. I am going out to shut those damn dogs up. 

I get my contacts in, I have clothes on and James is trying to talk me out of it. It's 1am. Those dogs have to have been barking for 20 minutes solid by now. I tell him I am going. I say they aren't shutting up and I will be damned if him and Will get up. James joins me. He has perfect vision and clothes on. 

Out we go. Across the street are the dogs. We know this. But, it's very dark out. Where we live there are no street lamps. We have deer, raccoons and coyote. The only light we have to go by are the stars. The owners seem to be gone. James heads for the back yard. I try to follow but really, I can't see anything. Also, I realize I left the kids alone in the house. I start having visions of Keely waking up crying because she realizes I am gone. This in turn wakes Will up who goes crying through the house looking for us. As I stand there helpless I wonder where the hell my flashlight is. I also wonder what exactly I thought was going to do out there in pitch blackness.

I stay put. James finally triggers off a motion detector light. The dogs are just going at it. Bark, bark, bark. I am amazed no other neighbor is out there either. I go to the side of the house. James meets me. He doesn't know what to do. The dogs are loose and he can't capture them. I say I am going to see if the back door is unlocked. He tries to talk me out of it but I tell him I am not putting up with this anymore. We head to the back deck. The dogs are up there. We see a doggy door. We try to get them to go in on their own but they are noticeably freaked out. FYI, they are tiny wiener dogs. They huddle together darting between James and I. I am telling them to go in and snapping my fingers. James is inching closer and closer to them trying to determine if they bite. He grabs the docile one first and we get it in the door. The yipper is next. While I have him James is gathering boxes to shove in from of the dog door so they can't get out. The yipper is fighting the dog door. He has his paws splayed out so he can't go in. Luckily for me I have experience with children that don't want to do things and I beat his maneuvers. In he goes. Boxes get placed. Quiet and peace. 

James and I run home and jump into bed shocked at what we just did. James is now too excited to sleep and I am at so much peace I finally can. We talk a few minutes about the brazen act we just did. He tells me how worried he was about the tenant coming out. I tell him I was ready to brawl right there. 

The next day I went back to the deck and moved the boxes away from the door. The owner was still not home. I checked back a few hours later to see they were now in a corral. 

The next day I was outside with Keely on my hip when the dog owner and some guy were dropped off by some woman. The dogs came tearing out of the car and ran right up our driveway. I yelled at them to leave and chased them to the street. I then told the owner his dogs woke up the neighborhood, my husband and my kids. I told him I didn't appreciate it. He apologized and said it wouldn't happen again. There was no discussion about boxes on the back porch.

Feeding Time

We love Costco. Whenever we go, we always get some pizza. Will loves it. He doesn't eat much so when he likes something I am all over it. Not too long, like 5 minutes, after we start eating Kiki has to eat. I scarf whatever I was working on and book it out to the car so I can feed her.

The other day this played out. I haul ass to the car, in the rain, climb in, and feed her. James and Will come 2 minutes later and start unloading sopping wet groceries. Wherever we go where shopping carts are available I insist on parking next to a cart return. This day was no exception and wouldn't you know, the cart returner was there when James was unloading. He helped unload the cart and chatted it up with Will and James. I could tell they were all having a blast.

When everything was put away James put Will in the driver seat next to me. He told me he really needed to pee. I quickly analyzed the situation and figured I could handle everybody lose in the car while he went back inside to pee. So, I sent him off. It got crazy real fast. First, Keely barfed on me like she hasn't barfed on me in a loooong time. It was nasty. As I am fishing out napkins from the glove box to clean up, paying no attention to Will, he dumps a cup of lemonade all over the drivers seat. I fish for more napkins. I am panicky now because James hates sticky messes, he already thinks my awesome car is a financial lost cause and I am freaked the lemonade will short circuit the motor which makes the seat heat up. I am cleaning all this mess up, boobs out because I haven't had a second to put them away and Will does a stomach honk. This is where he leans on the steering wheel, his stomach right up to the horn and lets his weight honk the horn. They are usually long(ish) honks because he isn't expecting it and it takes him a second to realize its him honking. Who should be walking by but cart return dude. He thinks we are trying to get his attention from the excessive honking. I just slump down, smile and wave. Mortified.

James returns and things go back to slightly normal. The car parked directly in front of us gets its driver back. A Costco employee. Who sits in his car staring at us while I finish feeding Keely. Must have been the best work break for him, ever. Gotta love those Costco trips!

His Own Sweet Bed

Our son has never slept on his own. He is almost 2.5 years old and I can count on two hands the number of times he has slept alone. There's a few reasons for this... The big one being he woke up whenever we put him down. The next being my husband was his primary night time care taker and he just had Will sleep with him. It made getting him back to sleep easier. Also, my husband isn't a big fan of being alone so he enjoyed having Will.

When Keely came around Will was in no position to make the transition to his own bed. We also knew it would be a total slap in the face. Hey, here's the new baby, she is sleeping with mommy and daddy and you are outta here. So, I slept with Keely in Wills bed. It was fine for about 6 months. I put her down, got back up for a few hours and worked. Climbed back in, nursed again and fell asleep. Well, she got really big over 6 months. His bed isn't all that big. I was starting to not sleep that well.

Shellie's House

We have bought a house. Now comes the wonderful pleasure of packing a house with a 2 year old and a 7 month old. Pretty much by myself. With the kids. It hasn't been all bad and I sorta started early.

One concern I had though was Will seeing everything he knew go away. This house is the only home he has known. He grew up here. Learned to walk, talk, play, everything. I was so concerned that he would panic at it all disappearing. That's thankfully where Shellie comes in.

Shellie is our real estate agent. Will knows her. Real well. He has seen her numerous times. Numerous. As a matter of fact, when we leave Diana's house, Will states we are going to see Shellie. We looked at a lot of houses.

The house we bought we have been to a few times. Will thinks its Shellie's house. So when I started packing and Will noticed key things getting wrapped and placed in boxes I told him it was going to Shellie's house. I asked if he liked Shellie's house, if he would like to live there, and he gave positive feedback. He is in on the game. He likes helping, he understands what is happening.

It's been real nice for me to have that tool in my pocket.

Not Going To Lie

I am finding it hard to find the time to brush my teeth. I wore the same gross clothes for 48 hours. I am so pumped to have time for myself when Kiki falls asleep that I stay up until midnight working on pictures and playing with my phone. I am absolutely exhausted. Yet, I stay up from pure excitement of not being needed. I can't seem to keep the kitchen sink clean for 5 minutes. My neighbors must be abhorred to see my sink. There's no curtains and they look, no pun intended, right down on the kitchen.

She Won't Take A Bottle

It just never occurred to me she may not take a bottle. Here we are, a month to go and she won't take a bottle. My husband is going to be a shattered man when I get home.

I photograph weddings. Other things too, but weddings are a 6-8 hour gig. I can't take my baby with me and nurse her every hour. Thank God but also Oh Fuck. I have been boobing this gal for 6 straight months, non stop. No pumping. No formula. Well, twice. The first time, perfect. The second time, traumatic. There have not been successful times at all after that. My husband has tried twice. Screams. I am honestly scared for him.

I decided we needed to break her in. Now. Today was day one. I still have a slight headache. I had him try. He lasted 2 minutes. He thinks she hates him now. I took over. He and Will left. She screamed herself to sleep. I did sing to her though, Señor Don Gato. She likes that song but it only mildly calmed her. I started to rub her head but it was difficult holding her, the bottle and rubbing her head. I eventually rubbed her head with my face. She fell asleep. She managed to drink absolutely nothing in the 15-20 minutes this lasted. This is going to be a horrendous training period.

Pooping is Tough Stuff

I remember a woman at work telling me I needed to have my son potty trained before I gave birth to my daughter. I scoffed. He wasn't even 2 yet. She let me know I was going to have one hell of a time.

That hell of a time has begun. We got Will a potty a long time ago. He loved it at first. He peed and peed. He loved to "flush" it. He even pooped a few times. But now, he freaks out when you tell him to poop in it. Full on tantrum.

I read that you know boys are ready when they can pull their pants down. You know when they start expressing they have to pee or poop. Will does all that. He announces when he is peeing in his diaper. He announces he is pooping in his diaper. So, to keep him ready, I keep him diaper less. It's my only option. Well, he pees but he won't let that poop loose.

This morning we had a complete meltdown. I have the potty in the living room. He announced in the kitchen he was pooping. I told him to hurry, go poop. He freaked. He screamed. I stripped him down and fought him to sit on the potty. I don't like it one bit but I have bribed him. At first it was vitamins. Now it's chocolate chips. He says no to it all. He succumbed to my strength and sat on the potty. Lets keep in mind Kiki is on the kitchen counter, strapped into a booster seat, hungry. I am on the kitchen floor wrestling a two year old onto a Elmo potty. He stayed. I got back up and started to feed her again. I stayed with him long enough to communicate everything was alright and he had to stay and poop. Well that boy wouldn't get up for anything. After half an hour I practically had to force him up. His poor butt suction cupped itself to the bowl.

We moved the potty to under the window in the living room. Nothing. Nap time came and I diapered him up. He woke up soon after falling asleep because Kiki couldn't be quiet. I stripped him again to another temper tantrum. Kicks. Tears. The works. He got back on that toilet again and didn't even get off when the trash man came by. That was impressive. He strained himself to see him but never took his butt off the potty. We managed to eek out a baby turtle head. I exclaimed joy, excitement, gratitude and pride. I could get nothing more. Once James got home he remained diapered for the day and had two severely stinky poops in his diaper.

Tonight I told him that if he had a big poop tomorrow we would take down the mixer and make cookies. He loves the mixer and the process of cookie making. He wants to make cookies for his uncle Derek. On Monday he wanted to make black cookies for his uncle Muddy and uncle Jackson. I really wish my future self could come down and tell me how this all pans out because I could really use the golden poop ticket.

Fatty is Gone

I don't want to talk about it. Fatty turned out to be a she. It didn't end well but it ended.

We lived with fatty for years. She was loud and scratched above our dining room. She would scratch and scratch. It drove me nuts. I called the landlord but the problem was never resolved. Fatty was intermittent. We told him she was gone, but she wasn't. James and I just took matters into our own hands. We figured out where she was getting in and nailed it shut. She went ballistic. She brought over some friends to get back in but eventually gave up.

She got fat from me. I had some birdseed from a Pinterest craft I saw. Fatty tore a hole in the bag and macked on it all the time. She was brazen. She climbed up on the deck, she scurried up the stairs, she didn't care. Will and I would stare at her as she stared at us filling her face with seeds. The birdseed was put in a bucket and zipped up in the greenhouse. When winter ended and I opened the greenhouse, the full bucket was empty. I saw fatty, she was fat. She was a beast.

Over the years, fatty and I had our run ins. I have whacked the shit out of my ceiling. I have whacked the crap out of my plastic green deck roof. One time, I scared fatty so bad she scurried off the roof, full blown panic mode, and flew into the air. She landed on the ground and took off up the giant tree. I doubled over with laughter. One time, when she became a little savvier, she heard me bang the deck roof and she jumped up on the house roof. I went out onto the deck a little further to feel things out. Fatty jumped down from the roof and landed on the hand railing. I screamed bloody murder. At 8AM. She scurried along and climbed down the deck and into her huge tree.

Some time went by and she came back into the house. This time she came to the opposite side of the house. It happened to be the kids room. She started scratching at 6AM and nap time. She fucked with my wrong hours of the day. I called the landlord again. Told him I wanted them dead. He called in Big Tim. He caught 2. We thought he had caught fatty. She went missing for days. But no. I woke up from a sleepy dream to her scratching. It's like nails on a chalkboard. I called Big Tim. He came back and explored the very cramped, very hot, attic. Fatty slipped past him. He found her nest. He found her tunnels. He baited his traps again.

This morning I heard her in the dining room. An odd choice. She hasn't been there for years. I decided I would call late today. I was beginning to feel like a nagging girlfriend to poor Big Tim. I was at Costco when my neighbor texted that we had caught another squirrel and this one looked hurt. I called up Big Tim. Told him the whole story from scratching to being caught. He thought fatty may have scuffed herself up trying to get out and it wasn't anything to worry about. I wrote my neighbor back and told her the same thing.

When we got home, James checked it out. He came back to me and showed me a picture. He didn't want me to see the damage the squirrel had done to herself but I insisted on looking. I wanted this, I had better look and see what I had brought on. It was horrifying. Fatty had rubbed her face off to the bone. It was raw. Just raw. She consumed the whole cage she was so fat. We went inside the house. We are the only people in our circle of neighbors who don't own a gun. I wrote our neighbor back and told her it was bad. I asked if they had a gun. She said they did but they weren't home. At dark, big Tim showed up. James took Kiki with him outside to talk to Big Tim. They found Fatty was dead. I guessed she had a heart attack from being so fat. Big Tim said they just flip a switch and die. When they know they are in imminent danger and don't want to go on, they can just die. Apparently that's how fatty chose to go.

I am sad it had to end this way. I wish we could have sealed the holes up, wherever they are. I don't ever want to be in this situation again.

Birthdays Suck

I guess the birthday still has a chance. I used to love it but now, it's got too much built up. Yesterday was my birthday and it may have been my most traumatic yet.

My husband is really amazing. He works so hard he enables me to be a stay at home mom and not want for anything. With that said, everyday is my birthday. All I have to do is get the kids to the store, deal with them while also trying to find whatever my whimsy wanted and its Happy Birthday To Me.

This year my husband took the day off from work to hang out with us. I was so happy to have him. Being a SAM is a tough job and I am always reminded of that when he is home. We went out to breakfast and that alone was a chore. Kiki started out great but right before our breakfast came she decided she needed to nurse. There is virtually nothing I hate more than nursing in public. You would think they would give us a table far from anyone's sight, but no, they put you right smack in the middle of the place. I sat in a chair instead of the awesome booth because a 6 month old and the biggest boobs you have ever seen don't have enough work space between the table and booth. The space I consumed of course interfered with patrons passing through and of course as soon as boob land comes out people start moving. I had mentally prepared myself for this for days so it didn't completely ruin me. I ate my breakfast slowly because nursing and eating are not an easy feat to accomplish. As soon as we walked into the restaurant my son saw balloons and immediately lusted for one. James worked it out with Will he had to eat so many bites before he could land his sticky fingers on a balloon. The mission was eventually successful but not without a lot of fussiness and obvious exhaustion from Will. After breakfast he got his balloon. I hate balloons. Will does not get they fly away. The waitress tried to tie the balloon to him, he flipped out. James tried to tie it to his suitcase, he flipped out. James then tried tying it to a crayon and a shoe both resulting in long waits and tons of tears. Once finally in the car with his balloon just the way he likes it he starts rubbing it hard. He is trying to pop it. He knows I hate it which makes him love it. He pops is. He loses it. Bawling. Begging us to fix it. Bawling more because we say no. We are quite confident he will fall asleep. Nope.

Next we went downtown. My husband who never shops for himself needed to do some returns and try again. I took Kiki to look at shoes, he took Will to look at clothes. I find my awesome $10 wedges, major score, and go look for them. There's nothing in the cart. The two of them are playing with the water fountain. I tell James that I will now take Will so he can concentrate. Five minutes later he is back with us with nothing and ready to go. I am upset internally. I know he needs my help and opinions but I can't give them because I am hidden away in a cave watching a 2 year old push the water fountain button while bouncing a hungry baby.

We take a walk to another store. Again, I can't help him because I am busy keeping Will from climbing the ledge, riding with him in elevators and trying to keep him safe and patrons happy. BTW Columbia store, you should open that big, huge, welcoming, blank expanse of space up to kids. Wow. It would make for some very happy parents. Thanks for telling us we couldn't go in after my son was well in there and then telling me you wish you were that age. Oh, did you enjoy being a little person denied having a place to play?

Back in the car I nursed and then we drove to Costco. Kiki fell asleep but not Will. James started to stress about time. His mother said she would watch the kids while we went off for a nice dinner. Her treat. I was very excited about it. I wanted desperately for the kids to sleep so this magical moment could happen. It was getting late. James and Will took my list while I sat in the car with Kiki. She eventually woke up and I had to pee. I called James who was checking out. We decided I would come in and split a hot dog with him. When I found them they had a cart full if birthday things for me! James bought me a bag full of iris bulbs. Honestly, those particular ones are not my faves. He could see the disappointment in me and told me to go find what I wanted. I felt horrible but I did just that. After looking I realized he had picked the best thing. So we finished up and got the heck out of there.

Heading home to pick up our date clothes little man finally slept. James got our stuff while I was shoved in the backseat nursing Kiki in her car seat. Thank goodness for big bazooms. I could feed her from my seat while she remained in her car seat. I had to do this because I was so fearful of her waking Will. I remained like this from, oh, pretty much Costco to Mukilteo. Eventually my boob ran out of milk and luckily I found a squeezie and a spoon all within arms length. She macked on that until we were in line for the ferry. We got there and encountered a line so we missed a ferry and the line was so long we missed the next ferry. Meanwhile Will I'd sleeping, Kiki is STILL eating, James is stressing out and now I am too. I realized my "go with the flow" attitude was going to get us home very late. Also, Kiki was not sleeping and a sleepy Kiki was not what I wanted to leave Diana with. I flat out couldn't leave her like that. If Keely didn't sleep, we could not go on our date. She wound up falling falling asleep 2 minutes before we docked. I seriously considered not putting her back in her car seat and driving to Diana's with her in my arms. But no. There are too many deer on that damn island and I knew we would be driving 50 mph with her in my arms and we would careen into a deer and all die. Back she went crying as we did so. She slept the 5 minutes it takes to get there and I stayed with her in the car while Janes went inside to warn everyone to be quiet.

It sort of went downhill from there. Diana

Mad Props To The Machine

I must say, I couldn't be a quarter of how amazing my husband thinks I am without the help of machines. His money helps too.

I was looking around my small kitchen realizing all the help I have. I have cinnamon swirl bread in the bread maker. I have a huge load of dirty dishes, primarily bottles, in the dishwasher. Will spilled a large portion of Keelys cereal on the floor and the vacuum picked it up. The washer and dryer are in constant cycles. I have fish soup in the crock pot. The fish was smoked outside in our smoker. I made some oreo cookie chocolate covered pops the other day and used my Kitchen Aid, blender and stove. I bought a bookshelf to hold Wills million books and loved having my electric screwdriver to help me out. I love my sonicare toothbrush. Lets give mad props to my car, THANK YOU CAR!!! You get us everywhere and you haul a lot of stuff. I can't forget our little heater. You are a hard working machine little guy. Thanks for keeping the kiddos warm. I would also like to thank my laptop computer. You are a genius machine. I make so much art with you and without you I would be stuck in a dark room with harsh chemicals. Then there is my phone. I love you little phone!!! You give me music, internet, movies, you are a camera (LOVE that!!) you let me play games, talk to friends and family, give me life saving directions to locations, answer any question I may have, you give me Pinterest which cures a lot of downtime when trying to fall asleep, you show me free stuff on Craigslist and allow me to post stuff on Craigslist, you aid me in my search for a home and you allow me to write about all my adventures, you do SO much!

Machines man. I freaking love them! Except when they brake. Suddenly my life comes crashing down. I never get angry but when something is not right, especially with my phone or computer, I don't know myself. I get psycho mad. So thank you machines, thank you. I apologize to anyone I may have forgotten. I do love you deeply and don't want to be punished by having you short out.

Holy Shit vs. Holy Cow

Holy Shit Cow. Will has a favorite cuss word. It's hilarious to hear him say it. He actually and regrettably uses it correctly. The very first time he tried his gummy vitamins he fell to the floor with joy and rolled around stating "Holy Shit, Holy Shit". He loved them that much.

I had to sorta ignore it. Pretend he was saying something else. Also I had to ignore it because I was worried about him realizing it was something we don't like and he would then do it.

Yesterday he announced it again. I finally told him we don't say that. He promptly responded with Holy Cow. I beamed. I told him that was correct. We say Holy Cow instead. I then told him what my parents told me when I was little and they were trying to curb my cussing. They told me that cussing was bad because it made you look stupid. It of course it worked for me. Did it work for Will? I told him just that, "we don't cuss because it makes us sound stupid". He shot back with a very excited "Stupid, stupid, stupid!". Hmmm. Not sure.

This morning at breakfast he said it again. Apparently he really liked his banana with peanut butter. I told him again, no, we don't say that. I resorted to telling him that on top of it making us look stupid, Gamma would be upset to hear it. He sorta accepted that. He told me also that its what Daddy says. It took everything in me not to laugh hysterically. I told him we say Holy Cow and he gave me Holy Shit, Cow.

So now this begins. Teaching a two year old not to say Holy Shit when that's the perfect thing to say. Also curbing our own language. Holy Cow.

Is It Deer, Dog, Pancake Or Cow Poop?

This posting will not be including pictures. The subject matter does not warrant any photos. This is a post about how I get my son to allow me to change his poopy diaper.

Will knows when he poops. He knows he is pooping. I am not sure he knows the poop is coming. Once he has pooped he will not let you investigate. James and I have learned to decipher when a poop has actually occurred and when it is a false alarm. A false alarm is when you ask Will if you can see if he pooped and he willingly shows you his butt. An actual poop has happened if you ask to see his butt and he freaks out. 9 times out if 10 you can smell it. The 1 time is usually a stinky fart. Getting to that poop can be an exhausting, stressful workout. I have discovered a loophole though that is showing great promise.

Long ago Will would freak out over diaper changes. It got to a point the only way I could change his diaper was by letting him watch a you tube video. It was always a Sesame Street song. He loved it. I could have him out and in before the song ended. This phase passed and diaper changes were fine. Somewhat recently they have become bad again. First he panics. He frantically tells you "no! no! no!". He tries to run. He tries to hide his butt. He lays down and contorts his body like a gymnast. The worst is when he flips over as soon as the diaper is off and poop goes rolling as his poopy butt lands on something that sucks to wash. My solution to it all is quite simple and I can't believe it works. Hell, I can't believe I thought of it.

One day he had poop that resembled deer poop. He is familiar with deer and the fact that they poop thanks to his Whidbey Island grandmother. She showed him deer one day in her yard and they promptly pooped thus giving him the lesson. I told him while changing this deer poop diaper that he had deer poop in his diaper. He was enthralled. He had to see. He loved it. The next time I knew he pooped I asked him "Do you have deer poop in there?". He was very excited to tell me he did and we changed him no problem. I told him that instead of deer poop he had a pancake instead. It snowballed. Now, every time I know there is a poop and tough times may lay ahead I ask him "Do you have a deer poop? Or is it a dog poop?". He will tell me. He always wants me to tell him what I find. Tonight I told him he had deer poop mixed with coffee and a little bit of rabbit poop mixed in. He had to see. I told him he had to wait. We put the new diaper on, dressed him and walked into the bathroom. We tossed the wipes and then opened the diaper. We looked at the poop and plopped it into the toilet. Will flushed it down and I had him wash his hands. This segwayed into teeth brushing and the perfect night was had. I wished I could make everything that had just happened a nightly routine but knew that would never happen. I will however take an easy diaper change.