How many of you have ever TASTED toilet water???
Well this MAY or MAY NOT have JUST happened. (I swear if you bring in up to me in real life I will deny! deny! deny!) ...but here's a little story for you that I think you will want to throw up to. Grab a bucket.
I'm writing an email to a buddy of mine, (we're planning the most spectacular baby shower at the moment for my sister in law) and I have my glass of quality H20 on my desk... I've finished the water and had been munching on the ice for 10 minutes (I knoooowww, its so bad for your teeth, whatever, I'm a biter...I need something to bite from time to time.)
Anyhoooo, Wyatt...little stinker that he's been for the last MONTH it seems like, comes into our room and sees my cup of water. He looks at me (with these big ol' beautiful baby blues that I just want to steal and put in my own eye sockets) and nods his little head like I'm going to automatically approve because of his cuteness or something... takes my water and says, "Mine?"
I say, "suuuuuure, what's mine is always going to be taken by you kids anyways...goooo for it."
So he walks away with my cup, reaching his grubby little hand into the ice and I hear him munching away down the hallway. Five minutes goes by... he comes back with my cup. It has maybe 4 inches of water in it. I look at him and say, "Ohhh Thank you WyWy! You got Mommy some new water!!?"
(Now KEEP in mind he's been able to activate the fridge for a month now as well. Just pushes the little button and water spills all over the fridge and floor... because he just LOVES to push my buttons (pun intended). So that is where my brain was... thinking "fridge" the WHOLE time.)
I take the cup from him, and take a BIIIIIIIIG ol' gulp. IMMEDIATELY my brain says "Oh fuck, this is SOOOO not refrigerator water!!!" and I lurch it all back in the cup, hacking my brains out, thinking to myself, "Noooo! Noo! NOOOOO! Aaaaahhhh NOOOO! Please don't be what I think that is!!"
Wyatt is looking at me like I am bat-shit-crazy-momma-lady and I said hoarsely, "Wyatt, where did you get this water??" He just GRINS at me. Little Fucker! I knew it!!! I'm wracking my brain, thinking: I don't remember hearing him climb the stool, don't remember the sound of the water from the sink...it is definetly not refrigerator water... so I get up. I have to. My shoulders are slumped, I'm dragging my feet...because I just KNOW what I'm going to find in the kids bathroom!
Door is open...*(he figured out how to de-kid-proof those too in the last month)...so Door is OPEN...no stool in the bathroom, which means it's in Ellie's room being used as a diving board for the Barbies, so he couldn't use the sink....looking towards the toilet...
Toilet seat is up. That is all. Open.
Toilet water taste like shit by the way. Pun absolutely INTENDED. It was "clean" water... and by clean, I mean no floaties or mellow yellow from Ellie-The-Toilet-Training-Failure.
But seriously, if you're ever over here at my house, don't take anything that Wyatt hands you and put it in your mouth. He doesn't really want to poison you...he JUST wants to watch you grin and eat shit.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Role models
I'm listening...not for the sound of the birds outside my window, not for the beeping of the coffee maker to let me know my second batch of coffee is done (wellllll, that takes a very close second actually), not even anticipating the sounds of screaming children as they fight over the remotes their not supposed to touch, but do anyways, and it drives me up a wall when the batteries fall out from someone losing the back of the fucking remote...no...I'm listening for the falling of the diaper pail.
We are introducing a new player into the poopscapade war here at Phipps Casa del Rancho de Poop! (I REALLY don't know any Spanish at all and I'm half Mexican, so if I just called our house the Phipps House of Ranch Poop, then we're kinda in the same ballpark me thinks)
Its been almost a year since my last blog...but not without incident I tell you. NOT without a NUMEROUS amount of incidents. Life is just so damn busy these days. A little summary: we bought our dream home, YES!!!! and moved out of that shit-hole of a renter with slum lords and crazy neighbors...here, in Fallbrook, we have SUPERB neighbors...albeit a crazy or two, but not crazy-crazy, just a little quirky. And quirky is cool with me. I can deal with fucking quirky. What I can't deal with is fucking nuts crazy. So we've been bat shit crazy getting the house in order; painting, gardening, unpacking boxes...and this has gone on for almost a year...looking, touring, writing offers, not liking one house, loving THIS one, moving, my Dad passing away (yeaaah, that really sucked), getting Jade switched over to a new school, Christmas, New Years, and dammit, now Easter! (Happy Zombie Day by the way). So to say the least...Ive not time to write as much as I've liked..but I did document! Pictures! A few gems for your pleasuring eyes later, I promise.
Anyhoo, back to the fucking point: shit.
Its always about shit.
Wyatt Clyde is 18 months old now. Ellie is 4. Jade Marie is a whoppin' 10 (Holy crap!! Im old)
Wyatt is my little love. He is just about the sweetest thing every. He is talking so much. Saying all these precious little one word sentences. He's just getting into saying 2 words at a time. But this morning, Easter morning, right after the Easter bunny came and left some beautiful baskets filled with round little chocolates and jellybeans...Wyatt brought me a little brown chocolate present of his own.
Now before I get into details...just think about this: HOW do they KNOW what will TOTALLY gross you out??!!! At 18 months?? HOW do they know??!
And I figured it out this morning while plunging the kids toilet (for the bazillionth time this week):
Role Models.
And WHO is Wyatt's role model???
Fucking Eleanore.
It was SUCH an Ellie thing to do today. I have a bunch of cooking to do, lots to clean up, 3 loads of clean laundry sitting on the couch to fold, coffee in hand, about to get my day going...and a bomb just drops on my lap...literally.
My little sunshine man brings me his softball sized turd he fished out of the diaper pail, holding his little hand out towards my face and looking up at me innocently, saying:
"Eeewwwwwwwww."
Yes. Ewwwww is right.
Role Models.
We are introducing a new player into the poopscapade war here at Phipps Casa del Rancho de Poop! (I REALLY don't know any Spanish at all and I'm half Mexican, so if I just called our house the Phipps House of Ranch Poop, then we're kinda in the same ballpark me thinks)
Its been almost a year since my last blog...but not without incident I tell you. NOT without a NUMEROUS amount of incidents. Life is just so damn busy these days. A little summary: we bought our dream home, YES!!!! and moved out of that shit-hole of a renter with slum lords and crazy neighbors...here, in Fallbrook, we have SUPERB neighbors...albeit a crazy or two, but not crazy-crazy, just a little quirky. And quirky is cool with me. I can deal with fucking quirky. What I can't deal with is fucking nuts crazy. So we've been bat shit crazy getting the house in order; painting, gardening, unpacking boxes...and this has gone on for almost a year...looking, touring, writing offers, not liking one house, loving THIS one, moving, my Dad passing away (yeaaah, that really sucked), getting Jade switched over to a new school, Christmas, New Years, and dammit, now Easter! (Happy Zombie Day by the way). So to say the least...Ive not time to write as much as I've liked..but I did document! Pictures! A few gems for your pleasuring eyes later, I promise.
Anyhoo, back to the fucking point: shit.
Its always about shit.
Wyatt Clyde is 18 months old now. Ellie is 4. Jade Marie is a whoppin' 10 (Holy crap!! Im old)
Wyatt is my little love. He is just about the sweetest thing every. He is talking so much. Saying all these precious little one word sentences. He's just getting into saying 2 words at a time. But this morning, Easter morning, right after the Easter bunny came and left some beautiful baskets filled with round little chocolates and jellybeans...Wyatt brought me a little brown chocolate present of his own.
Now before I get into details...just think about this: HOW do they KNOW what will TOTALLY gross you out??!!! At 18 months?? HOW do they know??!
And I figured it out this morning while plunging the kids toilet (for the bazillionth time this week):
Role Models.
And WHO is Wyatt's role model???
Fucking Eleanore.
It was SUCH an Ellie thing to do today. I have a bunch of cooking to do, lots to clean up, 3 loads of clean laundry sitting on the couch to fold, coffee in hand, about to get my day going...and a bomb just drops on my lap...literally.
My little sunshine man brings me his softball sized turd he fished out of the diaper pail, holding his little hand out towards my face and looking up at me innocently, saying:
"Eeewwwwwwwww."
Yes. Ewwwww is right.
Role Models.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Oceans and Pools
You'd think with a fully potty trained 3 year old, things couldn't get too bad around our house. I was wrong. Ohhh LAWD! I was wrong. We've crossed over the threshold, made it to the finish line, and now have entered new teritory that I am super unfamiliar with. Let's face it: kids are gross. (I'm almost positive I say that in every post, but its so painfully TRUE!) I think many of us parents have sat, awestruck and dumbfounded, as events have unraveled right in front of our very eyes. I know I have. I've sat there, in my chair, questioning reality, and thought: Is this really happening to me right now?
Example:
Every year for the last 15 years, I have gone to the same beach to camp with my family. The stairs at South Carlsbad can be brutal. There's about 250 of them to get to the beach (I think it's 5-6 flights, maybe more). If you forget something in your campsite, you are cursing every step going back up to the campgrounds. If you have to poop...you're cursing outloud AND running up the stairs.
This year was especially hard for me because Tim had to work almost the entire time we were there. Try toting a 10 month old brick baby on your hip going up and down those bad-boy stairs. Work Out! Add in a whiney 3 year old and a pre-teen 10 year old and whew! You would just LOVE walking a day in my shoes! :)
I asked the girls if they had to go to the bathroom before going down to the beach. In fact, I made them go, even if they didn't have to. That eventually leads to a tantrum of NOT wanting to go..."Because I don't HAVE to GOOOOO right now MOMMY!!!" Ahhh Ellie and her stomping feet tantrums. I pink-fuzzy-heart those moments.
Anyhooo, we're down at the beach on the first day, and of COURSE, 20 minutes after we get down there (I've finally got Mr. W down for a nap) Ellie has to pee. I do not want to go up the stairs for just pee. When I say she has to pee, I mean PEE. She's doing this dance on her tippy toes, spinning in circles, holding her "giiiina" and yelling at me, "I NEED TO GO POTTY MOMMYYYY!!!!" There's no fucking way we're making it up 250 + stairs and getting to the bathroom on time. So I tell her, "Ellie, just go in the ocean, it will be ok." She gave me this look like I had just told her the dumbest joke on the planet. So I take her hand and lead her out to the water and say, "It will be fine, I'll go with you." So we're out there in the water, jumping over waves, and I tell her, "Elle, just stand in the water and go pee-pee, no one is going to watch you." Well she makes it totally OBVIOUS!!! And Im trying to correct her and just tell her to stand up, but noooo, she wants to sit like she's on a toilet, so she LOOKS like she is definitely peeing in the ocean. Grrrreeeat. Luckily, my family is the first one down to the beach so its just us, and they don't care or judge me as a lazy mother. :)
So 4 days of peeing in the ocean water gets me this: We drive to the Ramada Hotel across the street where my Grandma, Aunt & Uncle, 2 cousins and my Mom are staying for the week in stead of at the campsite...and we are going to take a break from the sand (THANK YOU!!!!) and go in the nice cool pool. Excellent. We're sitting poolside and Ellie comes up to me... dancing..."Mommy I gotta go potty really bad." Ok! I bolt up and am about to take her hand and she says, "Oh WAIT!!! I know!" ...Runs, jumps into the spa next to this old man relaxing, squats, and pees. Dude is looking at me like I am a freak of nature baby killer and all I can do (red faced and cursing my stupidness for not explaining to Ellie that we do NOT pee in the pool) is smile.
Can you say Mortified?
I can even spell it:
E-L-L-I-E.
mortified
Example:
Every year for the last 15 years, I have gone to the same beach to camp with my family. The stairs at South Carlsbad can be brutal. There's about 250 of them to get to the beach (I think it's 5-6 flights, maybe more). If you forget something in your campsite, you are cursing every step going back up to the campgrounds. If you have to poop...you're cursing outloud AND running up the stairs.
This year was especially hard for me because Tim had to work almost the entire time we were there. Try toting a 10 month old brick baby on your hip going up and down those bad-boy stairs. Work Out! Add in a whiney 3 year old and a pre-teen 10 year old and whew! You would just LOVE walking a day in my shoes! :)
I asked the girls if they had to go to the bathroom before going down to the beach. In fact, I made them go, even if they didn't have to. That eventually leads to a tantrum of NOT wanting to go..."Because I don't HAVE to GOOOOO right now MOMMY!!!" Ahhh Ellie and her stomping feet tantrums. I pink-fuzzy-heart those moments.
Anyhooo, we're down at the beach on the first day, and of COURSE, 20 minutes after we get down there (I've finally got Mr. W down for a nap) Ellie has to pee. I do not want to go up the stairs for just pee. When I say she has to pee, I mean PEE. She's doing this dance on her tippy toes, spinning in circles, holding her "giiiina" and yelling at me, "I NEED TO GO POTTY MOMMYYYY!!!!" There's no fucking way we're making it up 250 + stairs and getting to the bathroom on time. So I tell her, "Ellie, just go in the ocean, it will be ok." She gave me this look like I had just told her the dumbest joke on the planet. So I take her hand and lead her out to the water and say, "It will be fine, I'll go with you." So we're out there in the water, jumping over waves, and I tell her, "Elle, just stand in the water and go pee-pee, no one is going to watch you." Well she makes it totally OBVIOUS!!! And Im trying to correct her and just tell her to stand up, but noooo, she wants to sit like she's on a toilet, so she LOOKS like she is definitely peeing in the ocean. Grrrreeeat. Luckily, my family is the first one down to the beach so its just us, and they don't care or judge me as a lazy mother. :)
So 4 days of peeing in the ocean water gets me this: We drive to the Ramada Hotel across the street where my Grandma, Aunt & Uncle, 2 cousins and my Mom are staying for the week in stead of at the campsite...and we are going to take a break from the sand (THANK YOU!!!!) and go in the nice cool pool. Excellent. We're sitting poolside and Ellie comes up to me... dancing..."Mommy I gotta go potty really bad." Ok! I bolt up and am about to take her hand and she says, "Oh WAIT!!! I know!" ...Runs, jumps into the spa next to this old man relaxing, squats, and pees. Dude is looking at me like I am a freak of nature baby killer and all I can do (red faced and cursing my stupidness for not explaining to Ellie that we do NOT pee in the pool) is smile.
Can you say Mortified?
I can even spell it:
E-L-L-I-E.
mortified
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
First Place
Graduation, promotion, next level...whatever you want to call it, we are there. Not only has Ellie entered the "why?" phase in her life, but she has also managed to achieve the First Place "Gross kid" prize. She is still super adorable, playing dress up, trying to play the piano, playing hide and seek with Wyatt (yeah, that can't happen quite yet, but she thinks she's doing just that)...but this gross kid phase has a gag factor that I didn't quite have when she was a baby and I was changing dirty diapers. Even while potty training her, I've had some HORRIBLE stories/instances, but nothing has prepared me for this.
As a baby, she didn't know what she was doing you know? Dirty diaper = I changed it. Accident while potty training = I cleaned it. I don't even know what to put on either side of the "=" sign for this one. Let me just give you an example of late:
The scene is set in my slightly new Pathfinder. (Only 6 months old I believe. Not a 2011, but "new" to me. It's an 05 I think. I keep that thing as clean as I can. Washed once every 2 weeks, vacuumed and detailed...STILL manages to look like shit whenever I leave the house though)
We're driving home from dropping Jade off with her Dad for the weekend. I'm spacing out, singing along to some Dire Straights classics, Ellie and I have this following conversation:
Ellie: Mommy! Smell my hand!!
Me: Huh?? What??! Whyyyyy?? (Told you, I was spaced out)
Meanwhile, she's still holding her hand out...it's ALMOST touching the back of my seat. I have the air conditioning on a little bit, and before you know, this smell come wafting up to the front seat. I swerve in my lane because it OFFENDS me SO badly. This smell...it was...disgusting. I can only describe it as sweaty, 3 year old, not very well wiped, butt-crack...ON HER HAND!!!
Im swallowing my bile back down into my esophagus and I choke out, "ELEANORE LEIGH!!! WHAT are you DOING back there???!!!!"
She replys, "I'm.picking.my.BUTT!" (Just like that! With the sassy pauses and EVERYTHING!)
"Ellie, that is so gross and nasty. Little girls don't do that. Put your hands in your lap and DONT.TOUCH.ANYTHING." (And I'm thinking to myself, if she touches Wyatt's face I'm going to pull over and puke)
"I'm going to pick my wiener too" she says, laughing manically because she KNOWS it will just set me off into another 'gross kid' rant. I tell her, "Ellie, you don't have a wiener." (I said it like I defeated her smarty-ass-ness, but damn it all if she came back with a zinger that just shut me up and made me laugh hysterically for about 10 minutes)
"Oh yeah, I have a SCARY VAGINA!!!!" says Eleanore Leigh Phipps, my crazed and winner of the "Gross Kid" prize.
Tell me she doesn't deserve 1st place?!
As a baby, she didn't know what she was doing you know? Dirty diaper = I changed it. Accident while potty training = I cleaned it. I don't even know what to put on either side of the "=" sign for this one. Let me just give you an example of late:
The scene is set in my slightly new Pathfinder. (Only 6 months old I believe. Not a 2011, but "new" to me. It's an 05 I think. I keep that thing as clean as I can. Washed once every 2 weeks, vacuumed and detailed...STILL manages to look like shit whenever I leave the house though)
We're driving home from dropping Jade off with her Dad for the weekend. I'm spacing out, singing along to some Dire Straights classics, Ellie and I have this following conversation:
Ellie: Mommy! Smell my hand!!
Me: Huh?? What??! Whyyyyy?? (Told you, I was spaced out)
Meanwhile, she's still holding her hand out...it's ALMOST touching the back of my seat. I have the air conditioning on a little bit, and before you know, this smell come wafting up to the front seat. I swerve in my lane because it OFFENDS me SO badly. This smell...it was...disgusting. I can only describe it as sweaty, 3 year old, not very well wiped, butt-crack...ON HER HAND!!!
Im swallowing my bile back down into my esophagus and I choke out, "ELEANORE LEIGH!!! WHAT are you DOING back there???!!!!"
She replys, "I'm.picking.my.BUTT!" (Just like that! With the sassy pauses and EVERYTHING!)
"Ellie, that is so gross and nasty. Little girls don't do that. Put your hands in your lap and DONT.TOUCH.ANYTHING." (And I'm thinking to myself, if she touches Wyatt's face I'm going to pull over and puke)
"I'm going to pick my wiener too" she says, laughing manically because she KNOWS it will just set me off into another 'gross kid' rant. I tell her, "Ellie, you don't have a wiener." (I said it like I defeated her smarty-ass-ness, but damn it all if she came back with a zinger that just shut me up and made me laugh hysterically for about 10 minutes)
"Oh yeah, I have a SCARY VAGINA!!!!" says Eleanore Leigh Phipps, my crazed and winner of the "Gross Kid" prize.
Tell me she doesn't deserve 1st place?!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Poopscapades 3.0
Woke up to new noises today. Wyatt was in his crib babbling, using his tongue on the roof of his mouth and curling it into a little taco. He was so cute. Sort of. Did I mention it was 3:30am?? Did I also mention that he wouldn't go back to sleep until I did a song and dance in the living room, drink 2 cups of coffee, then sacked out in my arms. He's such a cuddle bug.
But even going back to bed at 5:30am isn't REALLY going back to bed.
Irony: I get back in bed at 5:31am...Tim's alarm goes off at 5:35am, and he says, "Are you getting up with me?"
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Normally, my laughing on the computer looks like this: Bwhahahahahahah!!! And you KNOW I'm actually laughing. So you can imagine what Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha. sounds like in real life coming out of my mouth. (It sounds like this: Yeah Right, Fuck No)
So after I get back to sleep around 6:15am, because let's face it, I've had to get up and draw the curtains a little bit more, because that sun is just peeking in RIGHT into my face. And then I hear someone go to the bathroom...drifting...drifting...asleeeep. aaaaahhhh.
7:15am: enter Ellie
"Mommy! It's time to wake UP!!!"
"Of course it is!!" I throw off the covers. I look to the crib, Wyatt is on his tummy, propped up on his hands, staring at me with the face that says: feeeed meeeee. (He's in a good mood, screw it) I get BACK in bed, pull the covers over my head and tell Ellie, "No it's not time to get up. Mommy is tired." 5 minutes later, all is quiet...a little too quiet. THAT's when I start to worry. You know when it's quiet, they are UP to something. Always. Never fails. Doesn't matter if it's 7am, 1pm, 10pm...too quiet=shit they are getting into. Well this morning...quite literally:
Ellie was in Shit.
I walk by the bathroom, give it a glance, keep walking, then halt. I have to process what my eyes just saw to my brain...and I'm a little slow this morning because I REALLY didn't want to get out of bed. My eyes are telling me that I saw Ellie naked, a fat steamer on the ground in a puddle of pee, dirty pajamas that I just stepped over but didn't realize, poo on the tub, toilet and cabinets... Uuuuuummmmmm. No brain is now telling me: no fucking way. Please no way.
I back up...and sure enough, brain was right. We have a poopscapade. It's level 3.0 (because we've now entered the 3rd year of birth) and it was very messy. I don't think she did it on purpose. I have a feeling she got her jammies stuck (she was wearing the footie ones with a long zipper) and she had to go really bad.
What I love about Ellie is that she tries to solve her own problems. Take this morning for example. She looks at the situation and says how can I fix this?? Pee on the floor, put a towel on it. Pee on the pajamas, take them off. Poo in the panties, take the poo out and put it in the toilet. THIS is where she needs help, but doesn't realize it. This little poopie was quite squishy, so instead of her regular "balls or nuggets" as she loves to call them, this little guy just fell threw her hands, er, poop on the floor, cabinets, hands, tub and her back (don't know HOW that happened).
Solution: lots of bleach, curse words, and now: coffee.
The End. Welcome to my day. Is it Friday yet??? (As IF that would prevent from this happening tomorrow) Until next time folks, have a super duper day, and remember...antibacterial soap. It's your kids' best friend.
But even going back to bed at 5:30am isn't REALLY going back to bed.
Irony: I get back in bed at 5:31am...Tim's alarm goes off at 5:35am, and he says, "Are you getting up with me?"
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Normally, my laughing on the computer looks like this: Bwhahahahahahah!!! And you KNOW I'm actually laughing. So you can imagine what Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha. sounds like in real life coming out of my mouth. (It sounds like this: Yeah Right, Fuck No)
So after I get back to sleep around 6:15am, because let's face it, I've had to get up and draw the curtains a little bit more, because that sun is just peeking in RIGHT into my face. And then I hear someone go to the bathroom...drifting...drifting...asleeeep. aaaaahhhh.
7:15am: enter Ellie
"Mommy! It's time to wake UP!!!"
"Of course it is!!" I throw off the covers. I look to the crib, Wyatt is on his tummy, propped up on his hands, staring at me with the face that says: feeeed meeeee. (He's in a good mood, screw it) I get BACK in bed, pull the covers over my head and tell Ellie, "No it's not time to get up. Mommy is tired." 5 minutes later, all is quiet...a little too quiet. THAT's when I start to worry. You know when it's quiet, they are UP to something. Always. Never fails. Doesn't matter if it's 7am, 1pm, 10pm...too quiet=shit they are getting into. Well this morning...quite literally:
Ellie was in Shit.
I walk by the bathroom, give it a glance, keep walking, then halt. I have to process what my eyes just saw to my brain...and I'm a little slow this morning because I REALLY didn't want to get out of bed. My eyes are telling me that I saw Ellie naked, a fat steamer on the ground in a puddle of pee, dirty pajamas that I just stepped over but didn't realize, poo on the tub, toilet and cabinets... Uuuuuummmmmm. No brain is now telling me: no fucking way. Please no way.
I back up...and sure enough, brain was right. We have a poopscapade. It's level 3.0 (because we've now entered the 3rd year of birth) and it was very messy. I don't think she did it on purpose. I have a feeling she got her jammies stuck (she was wearing the footie ones with a long zipper) and she had to go really bad.
What I love about Ellie is that she tries to solve her own problems. Take this morning for example. She looks at the situation and says how can I fix this?? Pee on the floor, put a towel on it. Pee on the pajamas, take them off. Poo in the panties, take the poo out and put it in the toilet. THIS is where she needs help, but doesn't realize it. This little poopie was quite squishy, so instead of her regular "balls or nuggets" as she loves to call them, this little guy just fell threw her hands, er, poop on the floor, cabinets, hands, tub and her back (don't know HOW that happened).
Solution: lots of bleach, curse words, and now: coffee.
The End. Welcome to my day. Is it Friday yet??? (As IF that would prevent from this happening tomorrow) Until next time folks, have a super duper day, and remember...antibacterial soap. It's your kids' best friend.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Skunk and Tuna
"Mommy, poo-poo smells like skunk and pee-pee smells like tuna" -Ellie Phipps
Well there you have it folks, from the mouth of babes, Skunk and tuna. I don't know what possesses her to have to tell me, daily, the consistency of her bowel movements. Maybe it's just a fascinating subject to kiddos. Their body made this nastiness and here it is in a bowl of water to look at. It's just magnified for ALL to see! Yeah! (whoaa, totally sarcastic here) I've caught Ellie just sitting on the floor with her chin resting on the toilet bowl, staring deeply into the toilet, having a conversation with her dearly departed shits. W.t.f child??! Wash your damn hands AND your face now.
Recently, I've found myself stepping in puddles. Puddles of pee that is. Gross, yes I know. Apparently, I have a puppy in my house?? No, not a puppy...a 3 year old who likes to use her new found potty training abilities to control me. At first, I used to have to stop what I was doing, clean it all up, be nice and show her where the toilet is and what to do...now, after I found out its a fucking game to her, SHE gets to clean up the mess AND clean the floor. The problem is that she waits to long to go to the bathroom. She refuses to go when I ask her. So then I see her doing THE dance. This isn't your average little kid dance where they are trying to bounce up and down, stomp their feet and clap their hands...No, Ellie's pee-pee dance is quite funny. She runs around in circles. So if you're ever at our house or babysitting her and she starts running in circles...she has to pee. Every now and again though...I step in a puddle.
Moving on to more important topics (This next one is a total Ellie classic)
We've *(and by we I mean ELLIE) had the pleasure of identifying body parts. She loves the song, "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" ... in addition to those, she has asked about her and Wyatt's different private parts. (Already, I know, you're probably laughing because really, 3 year olds and talking about private parts...it's not private. She asks publicly ALL the time, SO fucking embarrassing...but I'm keeping count.)
Ellie: "What's THAT???" (pointing to Wyatt's wiener)
Me: "That is Wyatt's private part, it's called a penis"
Ellie: "PENIS????? HAHAHAHAHAA!!!! WyWy has a Penis!?" (I'm already giggling as Im changing him and she's watching )
Ellie: "Do I have a penis?"
Me: "No sweetheart, girls have a vagina, and boys have a penis"
Ellie: "A gina??"
Me: "Va-va-Vagina" (and then I'm thinking...should I really be teaching her this word?? But whatever, it's the scientific term, and I'd rather her say vagina, then some of the other terms that its called)
She kind of loses interest at this point...until the other day, when we had our friends Julie and Brian over... Ellie asks Julie...whispering..."Do YOU have a vagina?" and while Julie and I were starring at each other, laughing inside and trying not to draw too much attention to what Ellie had just said, she replied...whispering..."Yes, Ellie, I do."
So there you have it. Vagina.
Well there you have it folks, from the mouth of babes, Skunk and tuna. I don't know what possesses her to have to tell me, daily, the consistency of her bowel movements. Maybe it's just a fascinating subject to kiddos. Their body made this nastiness and here it is in a bowl of water to look at. It's just magnified for ALL to see! Yeah! (whoaa, totally sarcastic here) I've caught Ellie just sitting on the floor with her chin resting on the toilet bowl, staring deeply into the toilet, having a conversation with her dearly departed shits. W.t.f child??! Wash your damn hands AND your face now.
Recently, I've found myself stepping in puddles. Puddles of pee that is. Gross, yes I know. Apparently, I have a puppy in my house?? No, not a puppy...a 3 year old who likes to use her new found potty training abilities to control me. At first, I used to have to stop what I was doing, clean it all up, be nice and show her where the toilet is and what to do...now, after I found out its a fucking game to her, SHE gets to clean up the mess AND clean the floor. The problem is that she waits to long to go to the bathroom. She refuses to go when I ask her. So then I see her doing THE dance. This isn't your average little kid dance where they are trying to bounce up and down, stomp their feet and clap their hands...No, Ellie's pee-pee dance is quite funny. She runs around in circles. So if you're ever at our house or babysitting her and she starts running in circles...she has to pee. Every now and again though...I step in a puddle.
Moving on to more important topics (This next one is a total Ellie classic)
We've *(and by we I mean ELLIE) had the pleasure of identifying body parts. She loves the song, "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" ... in addition to those, she has asked about her and Wyatt's different private parts. (Already, I know, you're probably laughing because really, 3 year olds and talking about private parts...it's not private. She asks publicly ALL the time, SO fucking embarrassing...but I'm keeping count.)
Ellie: "What's THAT???" (pointing to Wyatt's wiener)
Me: "That is Wyatt's private part, it's called a penis"
Ellie: "PENIS????? HAHAHAHAHAA!!!! WyWy has a Penis!?" (I'm already giggling as Im changing him and she's watching )
Ellie: "Do I have a penis?"
Me: "No sweetheart, girls have a vagina, and boys have a penis"
Ellie: "A gina??"
Me: "Va-va-Vagina" (and then I'm thinking...should I really be teaching her this word?? But whatever, it's the scientific term, and I'd rather her say vagina, then some of the other terms that its called)
She kind of loses interest at this point...until the other day, when we had our friends Julie and Brian over... Ellie asks Julie...whispering..."Do YOU have a vagina?" and while Julie and I were starring at each other, laughing inside and trying not to draw too much attention to what Ellie had just said, she replied...whispering..."Yes, Ellie, I do."
So there you have it. Vagina.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Onsies: My Nemisis
I have forgotten how nasty a newborn diaper can get. Recently, I've had to alter my diet severely due to my little s.u.n's sissy-lala stomach issues. In "the books" it says that garlic, onions, broccoli, and hoppy beer can give newborns gas and make them extra fussy. Well, they forgot to mention dairy. So not only can I NOT have any of the above, every time I have a glass of milk or some cheese (or CHOCOLATE even), after the next feeding, Mr. W goes to a whole new level of newborn shit status. Usually, his little mustard bomb poops are coming out of the sides, but throw in some dairy and we have it coming out heading north, south, east AND west.
Thank goodness they don't smell.
And What The Fuck is up with dressing newborns in onsies??! I thought I loved them. I don't anymore. Have you ever tried to change a 7 week old, whose just blown the biggest crap that it's at the nape of his neck, out of a damn onsie??? How do I NOT get it in his hair??? Legs?? Arms?? Even face!? I know what you're thinking...how does it get on his face? Oh trust me. It can, and will, and does. He has no control over his pudgy little arms and legs. So he's cooing at me because FINALLY, he's got some relief from his little gassy stomach and blown some major ass. Those little cute hands and feet are a damn nuisance. While I'm trying to get the shit stained onsie off of him, he's doing the wiggliy-piggily dance...so of course, poop everywhere! I've wondered if he's ready for a bigger diaper...but recently we tried a size 2 and he was swimming...so we're sticking with 1's and Huggies for sure, they leak the least.
cant type one handed...will continue poo rant later :)
Thank goodness they don't smell.
And What The Fuck is up with dressing newborns in onsies??! I thought I loved them. I don't anymore. Have you ever tried to change a 7 week old, whose just blown the biggest crap that it's at the nape of his neck, out of a damn onsie??? How do I NOT get it in his hair??? Legs?? Arms?? Even face!? I know what you're thinking...how does it get on his face? Oh trust me. It can, and will, and does. He has no control over his pudgy little arms and legs. So he's cooing at me because FINALLY, he's got some relief from his little gassy stomach and blown some major ass. Those little cute hands and feet are a damn nuisance. While I'm trying to get the shit stained onsie off of him, he's doing the wiggliy-piggily dance...so of course, poop everywhere! I've wondered if he's ready for a bigger diaper...but recently we tried a size 2 and he was swimming...so we're sticking with 1's and Huggies for sure, they leak the least.
cant type one handed...will continue poo rant later :)
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Blame it on the Dog
Several incidents have happened recently that I can't even begin to tell you how funny they are...
We've had Ellie experiment with putting things down the toilet. A whole role of toilet paper was donated to the cause. Grandma actually cleaned up that mess while I was busy giving Ellie a big ol' swat on the ass. She had learned that trick from her cousin Max. He likes to put shoes, wipes, anything that's available down the toilet in his house. I think his Mom, my sister in law, Kira, was telling me about that one day while in ear shot of both Ellie and Max. Wouldn't you know it, that tp roll incident happened the VERY same day! Who would guess 2 year olds knew how to eavesdrop on conversations! :)
Ellie is still peeing on the floor whenever I put her in time out. (so at least ONCE a day) Usually, she's on time out for being too rough with her brand new baby brother, Wyatt. So now, she knows exactly where the floor cleaner is, the don't-have-a-match-crud-towels are, and she knows to put her dirty clothes in the hamper. Even after having her clean up her own mess (supervised of course...I don't let my 3 year old use household chemicals without watching her! duh.) she still hasn't learned not to pee on the floor. I'm just hoping her preschool teacher doesn't piss her off. She'll get kicked outta preschool for those kind of shenanigans I'm sure.
Speaking of peeing...Max was over at our house last week, and the two of them were in the bathroom together. I was standing in the doorway watching them go potty, taking turns... Max went first. Our toilet is kind of high, so he stood up to pee. Very natural. Go boys for standing up and peeing! whoohooo. Medal winners. So Ellie is watching him and after he's done...she goes to the toilet, pulls down her pants, stands in front of the porcelain and takes aim! I have just enough time to look over (was helping Max wash his hands) and yell "Nooo no no no no Ellie. Girls get to sit on the toilet like ladies, boys have to stand up."
A few days later, (yesterday in fact) Ellie and I are outside watering and playing in the garden. She gets her clothes wet and takes them all off. That usually happens on a daily basis. So she's prancing around in her undies...and before you know it, there she is, panties off and peeing like a boy in the garden. I didn't really get mad, because it's pretty damn funny if you ask me. Hopefully, she won't be doing that at a regular park, out in public, or at her school. If THAT happens, oh Christ-Bananas, that's going to just MAKE my day!!! So I take Wyatt in the house, he's sacked out now from being in the Baby Bjorn for a bit, and I come back outside. Sitting on the concrete is a nice HUGE ball of shit with Ellie's name ALL over it. This time I got mad. Nobody shits on MY concrete and gets away with it. So I asked in my Mommy-angry-voice, "Eleanore Leigh, WHAT is THAT on the ground??!"
Her reply: (wait for it...because it's so fucking funny)
"It's my ball of Poo-poo Mommy. Karah made me do it."
Karah is our DOG.
So when in doubt...blame the dog.
We've had Ellie experiment with putting things down the toilet. A whole role of toilet paper was donated to the cause. Grandma actually cleaned up that mess while I was busy giving Ellie a big ol' swat on the ass. She had learned that trick from her cousin Max. He likes to put shoes, wipes, anything that's available down the toilet in his house. I think his Mom, my sister in law, Kira, was telling me about that one day while in ear shot of both Ellie and Max. Wouldn't you know it, that tp roll incident happened the VERY same day! Who would guess 2 year olds knew how to eavesdrop on conversations! :)
Ellie is still peeing on the floor whenever I put her in time out. (so at least ONCE a day) Usually, she's on time out for being too rough with her brand new baby brother, Wyatt. So now, she knows exactly where the floor cleaner is, the don't-have-a-match-crud-towels are, and she knows to put her dirty clothes in the hamper. Even after having her clean up her own mess (supervised of course...I don't let my 3 year old use household chemicals without watching her! duh.) she still hasn't learned not to pee on the floor. I'm just hoping her preschool teacher doesn't piss her off. She'll get kicked outta preschool for those kind of shenanigans I'm sure.
Speaking of peeing...Max was over at our house last week, and the two of them were in the bathroom together. I was standing in the doorway watching them go potty, taking turns... Max went first. Our toilet is kind of high, so he stood up to pee. Very natural. Go boys for standing up and peeing! whoohooo. Medal winners. So Ellie is watching him and after he's done...she goes to the toilet, pulls down her pants, stands in front of the porcelain and takes aim! I have just enough time to look over (was helping Max wash his hands) and yell "Nooo no no no no Ellie. Girls get to sit on the toilet like ladies, boys have to stand up."
A few days later, (yesterday in fact) Ellie and I are outside watering and playing in the garden. She gets her clothes wet and takes them all off. That usually happens on a daily basis. So she's prancing around in her undies...and before you know it, there she is, panties off and peeing like a boy in the garden. I didn't really get mad, because it's pretty damn funny if you ask me. Hopefully, she won't be doing that at a regular park, out in public, or at her school. If THAT happens, oh Christ-Bananas, that's going to just MAKE my day!!! So I take Wyatt in the house, he's sacked out now from being in the Baby Bjorn for a bit, and I come back outside. Sitting on the concrete is a nice HUGE ball of shit with Ellie's name ALL over it. This time I got mad. Nobody shits on MY concrete and gets away with it. So I asked in my Mommy-angry-voice, "Eleanore Leigh, WHAT is THAT on the ground??!"
Her reply: (wait for it...because it's so fucking funny)
"It's my ball of Poo-poo Mommy. Karah made me do it."
Karah is our DOG.
So when in doubt...blame the dog.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Wyatt's Birth Story
This post, unfortunately, is going into the NPR category (non poop related). There might be a little poo reference here or there, but it's definitely not in the same category as Ellie's poopscapades.
Saturday: September 10th
Mom and I got together that morning for a little coffee and some shopping. We were looking for fabric for tablecloths for Kira and Tyler's wedding in October. We hit up the Wallymart in the Big P (Poway) early in the morning before the crazies showed up. Then we had a healthy breakfast at her house. I had to go home by 10am because Tim was watching both the girls and he needed a bit o' a break. Later in the day, I met my Mom again, this time I had Jade and Ellie and we met Kira at the Party City in Escondido to check out stuff for the wedding. While we were there I started feeling pretty crampy. I had to take a little break and sit down while Kira and Jade went to look at the Tux's in the Men's Warehouse next door. Jade had planned a sleepover with my Mom, so she when we departed, it was just crank-pot Ellie and I going home.
Sunday September 11th
1am: I woke up feeling like shit. My insides were in an uproar since the day before. I thought maybe I over did it by walking around all day shopping, and then cleaning in between shopping trips (what was I thinking!?) I was in the bathroom most of the night thinking...why? Why won't my body just let me sleep? Must I really keep pooping (ahhhh! There it is! The poop reference!) every hour and a half tonight?! (Future moms to be - your body does this unholy thing before birth [that I somehow forgot about...pregnancy brain perhaps] of "cleaning " itself out so you don't shit yourself in the delivery bed. Be thankful. I was.) Anyways, moving on...bathroom again...and ohhh what is THAT??! Oh yes, THAT (gross) is a mucus plug and I'll just stop.right.there. You don't want to know anymore. Moving on...
3:45am: A contraction wakes me up. Not a crazy bad one like the leg cramps, but one hard enough for me to open one eye JUST as I've gone to sleep, and say "ooowwwwwww" outloud. Tim had a horrible night sleep too I'm sure, he must have heard me and asked how I was doing. Not great obviously, because 6 minutes later, I had another, and 6 minutes later, another...another...another...another. So now it's 4:30 in the morning...I'm lying in bed trying to sleep through the contractions. Finally, I said F*ck it out loud and got up to watch some T.V. There is absolutely NOTHING on at 4:30am. Nothing. There are over 700 channels to choose from and at 4:30am...NOTHING is interesting. What WAS interesting was my appetite. I wanted to FEEEEED like never before. I ate a half a box of Raisin Bran from 4:30am to 4:35am. And it was delicious. I don't think I even felt a contraction as I ate. I was just...starving. Meanwhile, I'm contracting...and breathing...and eating...and contracting some more...every 6-8 minutes for like, forevvvverrrrr.
6:00am: Tim got up, asked if I thought this was "IT" and I confirmed, yes, Jesus, this is fucking "IT!!" We're going to have a baby TODAY!!! Holy shit. Then I started panicking. I wasn't packed! Had nothing prepared. At least the house was clean I thought throughout the morning...packing only took a half hour. Then I'm facebooking and my friends are telling me to call the doctor. I'm not supposed to call the doctor until a) my water breaks or b) contractions are 5 minutes apart for 1 hour and lasting 1 minute or longer. My problem: No water breakage AND my contractions were no where NEAR 5 minutes apart AND they were only lasting about 20 to 30 seconds long...but they hurt like a bitch. So at 9:45am, I call the hospital and the midwife that is on call listens to my babbling and tells me very bubbly to come on in.
9:50am: I'm sitting in the car about to have a panic attack because we're actually going to have a baby today!
9:51am: Still freaking out that I'm going to have a baby T.O.D.A.Y.
10:55am: We check in to Labor and Delivery at Scripps Memorial Hospital in La Jolla
11:15am: I'm in the bed with a cute pink gown, signing my life away, not even looking at what I'm signing...it's all standard procedure. Everything is a bluuuurr after that really. Do you want to have this vaccine? Yes? Sign here...no? sign here... In case we mess up, you won't sue us...sign here... OK!!! Bring me drugs! Now!
11:20am: My super, awesome, sweet nurse Kara R. comes in and checks me..."Yep! You are ready! 100% effaced and 5 cm already" ... my jaw literally hit the floor. I could NOT believe that I labored that long at home. It was SUCH a good feeling!! AND my contractions were still bearable...barely. She wanted to know if I wanted the epidural right away or wait and I thought about it for maybe....ONE second. Bring me drugs. The anesthesiologist came in 2 minutes later, I was bawling and screaming my eyes out about 3 minutes later and about 5 minutes after THAT, I was in sweeeet heaven.
12:something o'clock-but-I-have-no-clue-because-by-this-time-I-am-feeling-soooo-good: they broke my water to help things along and told me that I'd probably deliver somewhere around 5pm.
2:something o'clock-still-feeling-groovy: I'm feeling a little pressure in my bum, so I ring for the nurse to let her know. She checks my cervix and is totally shocked...9cm!! She starts rushing around the room, trying to get things in order. I'm pretty sure they didn't expect me to progress this fast. She called for the midwife and 10 minutes later they're asking me to push.
3:54pm: After an hour and a half of hard pushing...I probably told (whined, actually) them 5 trillion times, "I'm don't feel like I'm doing anything here...is he here yet??" (Pushing felt like I was trying to take a big poop, but since my legs and ass were numb...all I felt like I was doing was holding my breath for 10 seconds at a time) I guess I did it right because little Wyatt Clyde Phipps made his joyous and LOUD debut at 3:54pm. He weighed 9lbs 2oz, was 21 inches long, and had the longest feet and fingers I'd ever seen on a baby. Tim and I were overjoyed. Wyatt was perfect. He was a little jaundice a day later, but we got to take him home on my birthday, the 13th. It was the best birthday present ever.
(Tim's account of the whole day was something along the lines of: we checked in, she cried, she laughed, she acted kind of crazy/funny, the nurse did something to her, she felt like she had to poop, she pushed, it smelled, the baby came out, he cried, he is awesome. the end.]
:)
Saturday: September 10th
Mom and I got together that morning for a little coffee and some shopping. We were looking for fabric for tablecloths for Kira and Tyler's wedding in October. We hit up the Wallymart in the Big P (Poway) early in the morning before the crazies showed up. Then we had a healthy breakfast at her house. I had to go home by 10am because Tim was watching both the girls and he needed a bit o' a break. Later in the day, I met my Mom again, this time I had Jade and Ellie and we met Kira at the Party City in Escondido to check out stuff for the wedding. While we were there I started feeling pretty crampy. I had to take a little break and sit down while Kira and Jade went to look at the Tux's in the Men's Warehouse next door. Jade had planned a sleepover with my Mom, so she when we departed, it was just crank-pot Ellie and I going home.
Sunday September 11th
1am: I woke up feeling like shit. My insides were in an uproar since the day before. I thought maybe I over did it by walking around all day shopping, and then cleaning in between shopping trips (what was I thinking!?) I was in the bathroom most of the night thinking...why? Why won't my body just let me sleep? Must I really keep pooping (ahhhh! There it is! The poop reference!) every hour and a half tonight?! (Future moms to be - your body does this unholy thing before birth [that I somehow forgot about...pregnancy brain perhaps] of "cleaning " itself out so you don't shit yourself in the delivery bed. Be thankful. I was.) Anyways, moving on...bathroom again...and ohhh what is THAT??! Oh yes, THAT (gross) is a mucus plug and I'll just stop.right.there. You don't want to know anymore. Moving on...
3:45am: A contraction wakes me up. Not a crazy bad one like the leg cramps, but one hard enough for me to open one eye JUST as I've gone to sleep, and say "ooowwwwwww" outloud. Tim had a horrible night sleep too I'm sure, he must have heard me and asked how I was doing. Not great obviously, because 6 minutes later, I had another, and 6 minutes later, another...another...another...another. So now it's 4:30 in the morning...I'm lying in bed trying to sleep through the contractions. Finally, I said F*ck it out loud and got up to watch some T.V. There is absolutely NOTHING on at 4:30am. Nothing. There are over 700 channels to choose from and at 4:30am...NOTHING is interesting. What WAS interesting was my appetite. I wanted to FEEEEED like never before. I ate a half a box of Raisin Bran from 4:30am to 4:35am. And it was delicious. I don't think I even felt a contraction as I ate. I was just...starving. Meanwhile, I'm contracting...and breathing...and eating...and contracting some more...every 6-8 minutes for like, forevvvverrrrr.
6:00am: Tim got up, asked if I thought this was "IT" and I confirmed, yes, Jesus, this is fucking "IT!!" We're going to have a baby TODAY!!! Holy shit. Then I started panicking. I wasn't packed! Had nothing prepared. At least the house was clean I thought throughout the morning...packing only took a half hour. Then I'm facebooking and my friends are telling me to call the doctor. I'm not supposed to call the doctor until a) my water breaks or b) contractions are 5 minutes apart for 1 hour and lasting 1 minute or longer. My problem: No water breakage AND my contractions were no where NEAR 5 minutes apart AND they were only lasting about 20 to 30 seconds long...but they hurt like a bitch. So at 9:45am, I call the hospital and the midwife that is on call listens to my babbling and tells me very bubbly to come on in.
9:50am: I'm sitting in the car about to have a panic attack because we're actually going to have a baby today!
9:51am: Still freaking out that I'm going to have a baby T.O.D.A.Y.
10:55am: We check in to Labor and Delivery at Scripps Memorial Hospital in La Jolla
11:15am: I'm in the bed with a cute pink gown, signing my life away, not even looking at what I'm signing...it's all standard procedure. Everything is a bluuuurr after that really. Do you want to have this vaccine? Yes? Sign here...no? sign here... In case we mess up, you won't sue us...sign here... OK!!! Bring me drugs! Now!
11:20am: My super, awesome, sweet nurse Kara R. comes in and checks me..."Yep! You are ready! 100% effaced and 5 cm already" ... my jaw literally hit the floor. I could NOT believe that I labored that long at home. It was SUCH a good feeling!! AND my contractions were still bearable...barely. She wanted to know if I wanted the epidural right away or wait and I thought about it for maybe....ONE second. Bring me drugs. The anesthesiologist came in 2 minutes later, I was bawling and screaming my eyes out about 3 minutes later and about 5 minutes after THAT, I was in sweeeet heaven.
12:something o'clock-but-I-have-no-clue-because-by-this-time-I-am-feeling-soooo-good: they broke my water to help things along and told me that I'd probably deliver somewhere around 5pm.
2:something o'clock-still-feeling-groovy: I'm feeling a little pressure in my bum, so I ring for the nurse to let her know. She checks my cervix and is totally shocked...9cm!! She starts rushing around the room, trying to get things in order. I'm pretty sure they didn't expect me to progress this fast. She called for the midwife and 10 minutes later they're asking me to push.
3:54pm: After an hour and a half of hard pushing...I probably told (whined, actually) them 5 trillion times, "I'm don't feel like I'm doing anything here...is he here yet??" (Pushing felt like I was trying to take a big poop, but since my legs and ass were numb...all I felt like I was doing was holding my breath for 10 seconds at a time) I guess I did it right because little Wyatt Clyde Phipps made his joyous and LOUD debut at 3:54pm. He weighed 9lbs 2oz, was 21 inches long, and had the longest feet and fingers I'd ever seen on a baby. Tim and I were overjoyed. Wyatt was perfect. He was a little jaundice a day later, but we got to take him home on my birthday, the 13th. It was the best birthday present ever.
(Tim's account of the whole day was something along the lines of: we checked in, she cried, she laughed, she acted kind of crazy/funny, the nurse did something to her, she felt like she had to poop, she pushed, it smelled, the baby came out, he cried, he is awesome. the end.]
:)
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
"Look Mom"
When you think of your child saying, "Look Mom!" what do you picture? I've heard that phrase a thousand times it seems, and yes, every time it's said...I look. Most of the time, it's one of the kids doing a new dance move, trying on some dress up clothes, showing me the newest toy they'd like for Christmas or their birthday. However, never before did I expect a "Look Mom!" to make my nose scrunch up and almost gag.
We make it a priority to ask Ellie if she needs to sit on the potty at least once every 20 minutes. Since she's been doing so well with potty training, she usually says no, but then she goes on her own about 5 minutes after we ask. Sometimes, especially after waking up from a nap, we get hysterical NOOOOOO's and I don't WANNNAAAAAA's...so we just leave her alone to cry it out. Don't need any of THAT crazy rubbing off on me.
So yesterday, she wakes up from her afternoon nap with a little touch of crazy...I'd already asked her if she needed to go potty...I got tears and wails of course, so I figured she'd let me know if she had to go. Ohhhh, did she let me know.
"LOOK MOM!!"
She looks at me. I look at her. She looks at her feet. I look at her feet...and the pee starts to flow.
Whhhaaaat!!? How do you just stand there and pee yourself kiddo?! Especially after I JUST asked if you had to go? So we change her panties, wash her off, clean up the floor/scrub the carpet...she's good to go right? right???? riiiiiiiiiighhht...2 minutes later:
"LOOK MOM!!!"
"No fucking way."
We make it a priority to ask Ellie if she needs to sit on the potty at least once every 20 minutes. Since she's been doing so well with potty training, she usually says no, but then she goes on her own about 5 minutes after we ask. Sometimes, especially after waking up from a nap, we get hysterical NOOOOOO's and I don't WANNNAAAAAA's...so we just leave her alone to cry it out. Don't need any of THAT crazy rubbing off on me.
So yesterday, she wakes up from her afternoon nap with a little touch of crazy...I'd already asked her if she needed to go potty...I got tears and wails of course, so I figured she'd let me know if she had to go. Ohhhh, did she let me know.
"LOOK MOM!!"
She looks at me. I look at her. She looks at her feet. I look at her feet...and the pee starts to flow.
Whhhaaaat!!? How do you just stand there and pee yourself kiddo?! Especially after I JUST asked if you had to go? So we change her panties, wash her off, clean up the floor/scrub the carpet...she's good to go right? right???? riiiiiiiiiighhht...2 minutes later:
"LOOK MOM!!!"
"No fucking way."
Thursday, September 1, 2011
A New Chapter
Big Girl Panties. That is the name of my new chapter. One would think that I'd be so happy that we're finally AT this chapter. For so long, the end was bleak and dark. Constant diaper changing, poopscapades of all sorts and wiping incidents...but now we're actually getting somewhere. We're making head way and of course, with new territories, comes new and unusual challenges.
(If you've never seen the movie Despicable Me, you should go netflix the shit out of that movie. It is to die for. Your kids will love it and you will come away with a deep affection for Gru, the main character. Plus the soundtrack is really fun.)
"Lightbulb."
That must have been what happened in Ellie's head one morning, because she woke up out of the blue and refused a diaper. She wanted Big Girl Panties...so BGP's she received. On our first day, she ran to the bathroom screaming at the top of her lungs, "The Pee-Pee is coming! The Pee-Pee is coming!" All Paul Revere style. Day 2 was a little harder, it was super hot out so we didn't want to go outside and suffocate from the humidity...therefore the tv was on and she kind of lost focus for a little bit. I think we had 2 accidents that day. Then she just gave up. NOPE! Don't wanna! Not sitting on the potty. I hate stickers! I hate candy! Can't make me. That was her attitude for about a week. I think I jinxed it by posting something on facebook. I shouldn't have done that...that's all it takes is believing that it's happening, and then poof! it's gone. Blaaaaah!!!
So we go on our yearly vacation to Carlsbad State Beach and we're having a great time and out of the blue again, Ellie wants the Big Girl Panties. This time, I don't have any, they are hanging out at home in the drawer with a big 'useless' sign taped over them...so she has to settle for going to the bathroom with a pull up on. 2 days of potty training at the beach! Who would have thought?! As soon as we got home, it was BGP's again and it's been like this for over a week now! We've had a few accidents, but now we're getting her to go poop and pee on the potty every day!
Now for the "New challenges:"
#1: Public Bathrooms. Two words: fucking gross
How the hell am I supposed to train my 2 year old not to touch the toilet?! If she doesn't touch the sides of it to hold herself up, she falls in the hole (one of her biggest fears and why she DIDN'T want to sit on the potty to begin with). So I'm the "washing hands" Nazi from hell now. Those paper things are awesome, but Ellie loves to crinkle them, so we still end up touching the nasty toilet. So f'ing gross.
#2: Accidents. Three words: SO fucking gross
I am totally ok with them happening, I know they are going to happen, I just wish they happened when Daddy is on duty. No, it's usually me. What the HELL do you do with poopy panties???!! WHERE are you supposed to clean those fuckers? The first time I rinsed them out in the tub...Oh Mother of Zues! GROSS!!! Not only do I have shitty panties, but now I have a shitty tub to clean. That was super dumb of me. My mother in law suggested using the toilet. Flushing with clean water and swirling the panties in the water as the poop is washed away...I'm afraid I'll let go and then clog the toilet so I've only tried that once. Not ok with it. Perhaps outside? I think not...I'll have ants everywhere looking for a free disgusting meal. Ewwww. So I've done what I'm hoping most parents do: check the poop. By Ellie's standards it's either going to be "mushy" or "nuggets." Nuggets are easy to get rid of...those little guys just wanna roll right out and plop into the toilet. Super. I can clean that, but "Mushy" panties...no, no, no, no...I've tossed probably 3 pairs of BGP's away on account that they were just too damn "Mushy."
#3 I'm-mad-at-you-and-don't-wanna-listen-so-I'm-just-going-to-Pee-on-your-damn-floor-accidents! Four (and Four lettered) words: Losing my damn patience.
This one. Oooohhh. This one takes the cake. This new "challenge" makes me want to ring my child with a princess jump rope while stepping on her new fish. First you get the attitude. Then you get the sassiness (all of which she's learned from her sister I think). Then she tells me "NO!" And then of course, I get the evil stare AND she pees!!! She knows she's doing something wrong, but she's going to pee on MY newly washed floor because she KNOWS that I just cleaned it, and that I'll have to do it AGAIN! Also, after a week and a half of potty training, she's pretty good at going pee-pee all by herself, so this is just out of SPITE. I've been demoted to an ass-wiper (fine by me really). She's going to start cleaning her own mess pretty soon. We'll nip that sassy-tell-me-no attitude REAL fast if she's mopping up pee with a towel. Gotta teach these gremlins some respect huh?! Am I right?! :)
So this is where we're at with Potty training...we're learning, and it's fun, and I HOPEFULLY just bought my last package of pull ups! H.O.P.E.F.U.L.L.Y
(If you've never seen the movie Despicable Me, you should go netflix the shit out of that movie. It is to die for. Your kids will love it and you will come away with a deep affection for Gru, the main character. Plus the soundtrack is really fun.)
"Lightbulb."
That must have been what happened in Ellie's head one morning, because she woke up out of the blue and refused a diaper. She wanted Big Girl Panties...so BGP's she received. On our first day, she ran to the bathroom screaming at the top of her lungs, "The Pee-Pee is coming! The Pee-Pee is coming!" All Paul Revere style. Day 2 was a little harder, it was super hot out so we didn't want to go outside and suffocate from the humidity...therefore the tv was on and she kind of lost focus for a little bit. I think we had 2 accidents that day. Then she just gave up. NOPE! Don't wanna! Not sitting on the potty. I hate stickers! I hate candy! Can't make me. That was her attitude for about a week. I think I jinxed it by posting something on facebook. I shouldn't have done that...that's all it takes is believing that it's happening, and then poof! it's gone. Blaaaaah!!!
So we go on our yearly vacation to Carlsbad State Beach and we're having a great time and out of the blue again, Ellie wants the Big Girl Panties. This time, I don't have any, they are hanging out at home in the drawer with a big 'useless' sign taped over them...so she has to settle for going to the bathroom with a pull up on. 2 days of potty training at the beach! Who would have thought?! As soon as we got home, it was BGP's again and it's been like this for over a week now! We've had a few accidents, but now we're getting her to go poop and pee on the potty every day!
Now for the "New challenges:"
#1: Public Bathrooms. Two words: fucking gross
How the hell am I supposed to train my 2 year old not to touch the toilet?! If she doesn't touch the sides of it to hold herself up, she falls in the hole (one of her biggest fears and why she DIDN'T want to sit on the potty to begin with). So I'm the "washing hands" Nazi from hell now. Those paper things are awesome, but Ellie loves to crinkle them, so we still end up touching the nasty toilet. So f'ing gross.
#2: Accidents. Three words: SO fucking gross
I am totally ok with them happening, I know they are going to happen, I just wish they happened when Daddy is on duty. No, it's usually me. What the HELL do you do with poopy panties???!! WHERE are you supposed to clean those fuckers? The first time I rinsed them out in the tub...Oh Mother of Zues! GROSS!!! Not only do I have shitty panties, but now I have a shitty tub to clean. That was super dumb of me. My mother in law suggested using the toilet. Flushing with clean water and swirling the panties in the water as the poop is washed away...I'm afraid I'll let go and then clog the toilet so I've only tried that once. Not ok with it. Perhaps outside? I think not...I'll have ants everywhere looking for a free disgusting meal. Ewwww. So I've done what I'm hoping most parents do: check the poop. By Ellie's standards it's either going to be "mushy" or "nuggets." Nuggets are easy to get rid of...those little guys just wanna roll right out and plop into the toilet. Super. I can clean that, but "Mushy" panties...no, no, no, no...I've tossed probably 3 pairs of BGP's away on account that they were just too damn "Mushy."
#3 I'm-mad-at-you-and-don't-wanna-listen-so-I'm-just-going-to-Pee-on-your-damn-floor-accidents! Four (and Four lettered) words: Losing my damn patience.
This one. Oooohhh. This one takes the cake. This new "challenge" makes me want to ring my child with a princess jump rope while stepping on her new fish. First you get the attitude. Then you get the sassiness (all of which she's learned from her sister I think). Then she tells me "NO!" And then of course, I get the evil stare AND she pees!!! She knows she's doing something wrong, but she's going to pee on MY newly washed floor because she KNOWS that I just cleaned it, and that I'll have to do it AGAIN! Also, after a week and a half of potty training, she's pretty good at going pee-pee all by herself, so this is just out of SPITE. I've been demoted to an ass-wiper (fine by me really). She's going to start cleaning her own mess pretty soon. We'll nip that sassy-tell-me-no attitude REAL fast if she's mopping up pee with a towel. Gotta teach these gremlins some respect huh?! Am I right?! :)
So this is where we're at with Potty training...we're learning, and it's fun, and I HOPEFULLY just bought my last package of pull ups! H.O.P.E.F.U.L.L.Y
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Blueberries
I had a great doctor appointment today. The last 8-10 times I've been in, the Doctor measures my belly, we listen to the heartbeat, he asks me if I have any concerns (I usually don't because really...it's my third kid. I could care less, I just want him out) and then we leave.
Well today my doctor was on vacation, no biggie, I got to see the nurse practitioner. While I'm waiting for her to enter the room, the nurse comes back in and tells me I have to put on a gown. I have to get swabbed for strep B. Again, I'm thinking no biggie.
Everything this morning was kind of a "no biggie" until Ellie pooped in the doctor's office. It was all downhill from that moment on...I forgot the diaper backpack in the car...she has some 70's retro style purple shorts on that are too tight for her booty, I'm thinking she's going to leak right out of her diaper and I'll be screwed. Meanwhile, I have NO pants on, a paper sheet tied around my waist, and the little waiting office/room is starting to ferment. To top that off, the windows won't open and Ellie is bored out of her mind.
I did what any parent would do: ignore the fact that she pooped. Nope, that TOTALLY didn't work!! Ellie tells me that she poops by squatting and grabbing her ass saying, "Mommy, it really squishy poopy." (I'm trying not to laugh of course). Then she starts singing a song about poop, really, really, loud...the walls are paper thin and I can hear the people in the next room laughing. Finally, she sits on the ground, puts her feet under her butt (kind of sitting on her knees and resting her booty on her feet) and starts moving from side to side singing, "squishing the poopy, Mommy!!!! I'm squishing the pooooo peeeeee!" I have to tell her 3 or four times to get the hell up and quit mushing her poop in her diaper. She thinks its funny.
Then I messed up. I checked the back of her pants to see how far she squished the poop... NOT.A.GOOD.IDEA. I ruined the rest of the good air in the room, completely. Now I'm suffocating from fecal air and in walks the doctor. Her face sours like she just bit into a 3 week old rotten lime, and she says, "Ohhh! I think someone pooped. Let's make this quick."
We were out in 2 minutes.
Back at the car, changing the diaper ... it's green. Absolutely green and putrid.
Here is the quadratic formula for that diaper recipe:
1 small carton of blueberries + 1 three year old - a diaper bag = green poop
I'll skip the blueberries at the store next time I think.
Well today my doctor was on vacation, no biggie, I got to see the nurse practitioner. While I'm waiting for her to enter the room, the nurse comes back in and tells me I have to put on a gown. I have to get swabbed for strep B. Again, I'm thinking no biggie.
Everything this morning was kind of a "no biggie" until Ellie pooped in the doctor's office. It was all downhill from that moment on...I forgot the diaper backpack in the car...she has some 70's retro style purple shorts on that are too tight for her booty, I'm thinking she's going to leak right out of her diaper and I'll be screwed. Meanwhile, I have NO pants on, a paper sheet tied around my waist, and the little waiting office/room is starting to ferment. To top that off, the windows won't open and Ellie is bored out of her mind.
I did what any parent would do: ignore the fact that she pooped. Nope, that TOTALLY didn't work!! Ellie tells me that she poops by squatting and grabbing her ass saying, "Mommy, it really squishy poopy." (I'm trying not to laugh of course). Then she starts singing a song about poop, really, really, loud...the walls are paper thin and I can hear the people in the next room laughing. Finally, she sits on the ground, puts her feet under her butt (kind of sitting on her knees and resting her booty on her feet) and starts moving from side to side singing, "squishing the poopy, Mommy!!!! I'm squishing the pooooo peeeeee!" I have to tell her 3 or four times to get the hell up and quit mushing her poop in her diaper. She thinks its funny.
Then I messed up. I checked the back of her pants to see how far she squished the poop... NOT.A.GOOD.IDEA. I ruined the rest of the good air in the room, completely. Now I'm suffocating from fecal air and in walks the doctor. Her face sours like she just bit into a 3 week old rotten lime, and she says, "Ohhh! I think someone pooped. Let's make this quick."
We were out in 2 minutes.
Back at the car, changing the diaper ... it's green. Absolutely green and putrid.
Here is the quadratic formula for that diaper recipe:
1 small carton of blueberries + 1 three year old - a diaper bag = green poop
I'll skip the blueberries at the store next time I think.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
1 Square at a time
Many of you know that I have had major "difficulties and challenges" in potty training Eleanore for the last 6 months... I use "difficulties and challenges" as a very loose, loose term because on more than one occasion (maybe closer to 10 occasions) she has been found without a diaper, drawing circles, faces and other magical creatures on some random flooring and/or cabnitry in our house (or someone ELSE's house) with of course, her favorite writing utensil, her own poop. So that scenario in itself is really above and beyond "difficult and challenging" ... it's more like: fucking discusting.
So you get the picture: my kid is a poop artist. Lately, we've had less poop drawings and more of what I will dub as "wiping incidents." Now a wiping incident is just as bad as a poop drawing. Ellie will go stealth. And I don't mean just quiet...she will hide, hide well, and not respond to anyone calling her...complete stealth. While she's invincible to the world, she will poop in her pull up. I have to use my super-human-8-month-prenant-detecting nose to find her usually. However, usually, she waits and watches me, to make sure I am doing something that I can't leave right away, like cooking dinner or washing the dishes. After pooping, she will go into our bedroom, take out the wipes and a new diaper from the basket at the foot of our bed, and procede to change her own diaper.
"Oh my gosh, she is so smart!" some of you would say... Yes, and no. Yes, she is smart, she can wipe her own ass...NO, she is still is 2 and no doubt, can't do anything without making a huge damn mess!! So we end up having a shit-streaked Ellie; she gets the front to back thing really well, but how FAR is really where the mess goes is what I'm talking about. Wiping from her butt to her lower back usually results in her just moving poop from one area to another. Then she will sit down on the carpet (yes I said carpet...another 2 things that don't mix well...poop & carpet) and again try to wipe herself. She comes out of our bedroom, smelling like poop, looking like a poop covered enclaire and totally proud of herself. She's a super kid. So we usually end up getting a REALLY good bath when those days come along.
Now on to the main point of this post today... yesterday, a good and wonderful friend of mine came over to say goodbye before she left on her 7 hour plane ride back to Fayatteville, North Carolina. We were sitting on the ground and Ellie was with us, climbing over and in between our legs, and the following conversation took place:
Miss Julie: "Ellie, when are you going to be a big girl?"
Ellie: "I am a big girl"
Miss Julie: "No, I thought big girls were the ones that go pee-pee on the potty by themselves. You still have a pull up on"
Ellie: "I be a big girl today"
That was the jist of it...Ellie lost interest in us and soon turned her focus to Kaia, Miss Julie's beautiful dog. Julie and I went on with our previous conversation and thought nothing of it.
As soon as Julie left, Ellie pooped, I caught the scent early (whew!), and I changed her. She wanted big girl panties, (no pull up) so I asked her why big girl panties now, and she simply said, "(something I couldn't understand here) because Miss Julie said so." Well, low and behold, Eleanore Leigh Phipps stayed dry in those big girl panties for almost 5 hours. Every 15 minutes she ran to the bathroom to try, screaming, "The Poo-Poo is coming" or "The Pee-Pee is coming" ...she reminded me of Paul Revere. And finally, at 8:36pm, she ACTUALLY went Pee-Pee in the potty all by herself...TWICE! (THANK YOU MISS JULIEEEEE!!!!!)
So for those other 50 times that she didn't go, but sat on the potty, she would pull one sqaure of toilet paper and wipe herself, over and over again. I think she wasted a whole roll in those 5 hours and probably 45 gallons of water from flushing the toilet unneccesarily...but who gives a flying Ellie shit!! I was so stoked that she actually sat and peed those 2 times!!!
So this morning, we're in big girl panties again...we've gone through 10 sqaures of toilet paper, but we'll get there, eventually! One square at a time.
So you get the picture: my kid is a poop artist. Lately, we've had less poop drawings and more of what I will dub as "wiping incidents." Now a wiping incident is just as bad as a poop drawing. Ellie will go stealth. And I don't mean just quiet...she will hide, hide well, and not respond to anyone calling her...complete stealth. While she's invincible to the world, she will poop in her pull up. I have to use my super-human-8-month-prenant-detecting nose to find her usually. However, usually, she waits and watches me, to make sure I am doing something that I can't leave right away, like cooking dinner or washing the dishes. After pooping, she will go into our bedroom, take out the wipes and a new diaper from the basket at the foot of our bed, and procede to change her own diaper.
"Oh my gosh, she is so smart!" some of you would say... Yes, and no. Yes, she is smart, she can wipe her own ass...NO, she is still is 2 and no doubt, can't do anything without making a huge damn mess!! So we end up having a shit-streaked Ellie; she gets the front to back thing really well, but how FAR is really where the mess goes is what I'm talking about. Wiping from her butt to her lower back usually results in her just moving poop from one area to another. Then she will sit down on the carpet (yes I said carpet...another 2 things that don't mix well...poop & carpet) and again try to wipe herself. She comes out of our bedroom, smelling like poop, looking like a poop covered enclaire and totally proud of herself. She's a super kid. So we usually end up getting a REALLY good bath when those days come along.
Now on to the main point of this post today... yesterday, a good and wonderful friend of mine came over to say goodbye before she left on her 7 hour plane ride back to Fayatteville, North Carolina. We were sitting on the ground and Ellie was with us, climbing over and in between our legs, and the following conversation took place:
Miss Julie: "Ellie, when are you going to be a big girl?"
Ellie: "I am a big girl"
Miss Julie: "No, I thought big girls were the ones that go pee-pee on the potty by themselves. You still have a pull up on"
Ellie: "I be a big girl today"
That was the jist of it...Ellie lost interest in us and soon turned her focus to Kaia, Miss Julie's beautiful dog. Julie and I went on with our previous conversation and thought nothing of it.
As soon as Julie left, Ellie pooped, I caught the scent early (whew!), and I changed her. She wanted big girl panties, (no pull up) so I asked her why big girl panties now, and she simply said, "(something I couldn't understand here) because Miss Julie said so." Well, low and behold, Eleanore Leigh Phipps stayed dry in those big girl panties for almost 5 hours. Every 15 minutes she ran to the bathroom to try, screaming, "The Poo-Poo is coming" or "The Pee-Pee is coming" ...she reminded me of Paul Revere. And finally, at 8:36pm, she ACTUALLY went Pee-Pee in the potty all by herself...TWICE! (THANK YOU MISS JULIEEEEE!!!!!)
So for those other 50 times that she didn't go, but sat on the potty, she would pull one sqaure of toilet paper and wipe herself, over and over again. I think she wasted a whole roll in those 5 hours and probably 45 gallons of water from flushing the toilet unneccesarily...but who gives a flying Ellie shit!! I was so stoked that she actually sat and peed those 2 times!!!
So this morning, we're in big girl panties again...we've gone through 10 sqaures of toilet paper, but we'll get there, eventually! One square at a time.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Hair Clips and noses don't mix
Being 8 months pregnant in the summer is one of the crappiest things I can think of going through. Luckily, I've done it now THREE times! Whoohoo on my timing huh!?! So I can safely say, I'm an expert. One of the best things about being pregnant in the summer, is the lovely insomnia. Last night I was up at least 5 times. My bladder is the size of a pea. This S.U.N of mine likes to bounce on it like a rubber bouncy ball. So when I finally get to sleep at 4am, and I get those 3 hours of wonderful sleep, it's a big bonus. What is NOT a bonus is the manner of waking up. Today, it was my precious little Ellie and one of my plastic hair clips. Let's just say, my nose is sore and scratched. She thought it would be a great idea to pinch my nose with my hair clip to get me up. Granted, I had been ignoring her for about 10 minutes while she patted my back and said my name softly over and over, "Mommy, it's time to wake up, I want some serrrllll (cereal)"... tomorrow I'm definitely getting up before her, but only if I sleep well. Soooo very doubtful. It will probably be a cup of cold water on my face tomorrow. Hopefully, she's not that smart yet.
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