Potty Training: POOP!

The past 72 hours (72? Yeah, I think so...) have been hell on this beautiful earth.

But James has finally pooped in the toilet. He has also peed in the sink at Bass Pro Shops, in the regular toilet at a friends house, and in her daughter's potty-training toilet, which is clearly made for little girls. Never in my life did I think I would be holding my son's penis so that it pointed down while he peed into a pink princess toilet.

Yet, here we are, another major milestone beyond the peeing in public restrooms, peeing in other places, and peeing in general.

Although, of course, with our family, it could not be a normal, fun, exciting story. It had to be this story.

My bestie had a baby, and of course, I just had to go and wrap my arms around her and see that beautiful bundle. It's amazing how little they are, and it's so true how fast kids really do grow up. So off we went, a 45 minute car ride to my friends house in the country. Upon arrival, we peed in the regular toilet, facing backwards because that was James' first adventure in peeing in a big toilet - minus the times the he tried prior to potty-training, of course.

Throughout our stay, we visited the toilet several times. Between his peeing, Catherine's fussing and Courtney having to not only breastfeed, but also pump, I am not sure we had a real conversation. I remember we started several, but I don't think we ever really finished them in that obligatory way that makes you bring up another subject to begin discussing.

We finally got in the car and started for home, and James was silent. In fact, when I looked back at him several times, he also looked very tired. Yep, you guessed it, he was not feeling well.

We got home and he wanted to go straight to bed, which is unusual. I still didn't think anything of it and put him to bed without lunch because he did not want to eat the pancakes he was requesting earlier. Since Catherine had slept on the 45 minute ride there and about 20 minutes of the 45 minute ride home, she was at and at 'em when we arrived back home. I hate it when my kids' schedules get off and then they sleep at different times, but so be it. I got to hold a precious, tiny baby, and for that, it was a worth it.

Catherine finally went to sleep just as James was waking up with a pale face, red eyes, and blotchy skin. I knew as soon as I touched him that he had a fever. I just didn't know how high. I struggled to find the thermometer, only to forget that he was wearing underwear, and he had an accident. So I finally changed him, all the while feeling the heat radiating off his skin. I took his temperature and reeled: 104! Astonishing for such a little guy, and concerning for this mama.

As I administered his tylenol, I was calculating just how I would get him to the hospital with Catherine in tow. A very constipated Catherine who requires to be breastfed. With a very, at that moment, needy James. Oh, and did I mention, Eric was working? I didn't? Well, he was. Awesome.

Luckily, the tylenol kicked in, just as Catherine was waking up. Awesome. So I tried to figure out how to keep two kids entertained while keeping them away from each other so that Catherine didn't catch what James very obviously had. He kept asking for water, refused to eat anything, and mostly laid around and watched Disney movies (which is great because I'm actually looking to do a Disney movie fundraiser... so I was able to do some research on songs!).

And so it went, Saturday night into Sunday. James woke up Sunday without a fever, but still no appetite and didn't want to drink. Still hadn't pooped in his night-time diaper, or in the toilet, so that was concerning as well.

Sunday was worse. Catherine slept a total of 1 hour in the morning, and from then on, scream/cried the entire day. From 1:30 until 10:30 p.m. (at 9:00 p.m. I handed her over to Eric), she simply screamed. And all James wanted to do was play. But not eat. Or drink. But at least he wanted to play, so things were looking up, right?

Wrong. James woke up this morning at 4:00 a.m. demanding to be let out of his crib to poop. I must have taken too long, because once I got into his room, he was letting out his last grunt. Yep, there it was. Poop.

So I changed him, put him back in bed, and I tried to go back to sleep as well. Only to hear him not even a half hour later demanding to be let out again because he had to pee. In the wee hours of this morning, I understood why people use pull-ups. Because a diaper is harder than hell to try and get back on in the middle of the night.

A half hour later, he had to poop. I went in, set him on the toilet, where he tried to no avail. Put him back in bed. About 5:30 is when he started coughing. And then he started crying. The only time I've heard him cough, followed by a wailing, is when his tummy hurts and he is about to throw up. Awesome.

Somehow, he didn't throw up, and I was able to soothe him back to bed. After peeing, of course, in the toilet. When I tried to drag myself back to bed, he began crying again. So I actually brought him into our bed with me, which I have only done a few times in his little life, And at that moment, Catherine began to fuss. So I brought her into bed, nursed her while laying on her side (thank you, God, for designing my body so that I can nurse laying down. Hallelujah). From there, James began to move about, coughing and not really sitting still. Another sign he's about to throw up. So we gathered towels and waited for the inevitable. But he never ended up throwing up.

I called into work, while continuing to nurse Catherine (how's that for multi-tasking?) and Eric got Catherine ready for daycare. James coughed and gagged, and even dry heaved a few times, but never threw up. However, he was lethargic, and obviously sick, so I got to stay home with him.

Fast-forward to bringing Catherine home from daycare. After lounging all day with James, our daycare provider text me about 4:00 saying Catherine had a fever and she was going to administer some baby tylenol. FUCKING AWESOME. So Catherine got her baby tylenol, Eric went to get her, and brought her home just as James is telling me he has to pee.

He does this weird thing when he has to poop that is exactly like when he has to pee, only he also grabs at his back and his front. When he has to pee, beyond verbalizing it, he also grabs himself. Do you suppose all the grown men that grab themselves started that way? Anyway, I digress.

As I'm trying to nurse a feverish Catherine on the chair-and-a-half, James is sitting on the toilet. POOPING. Only I didn't really realize it until he stood up and a HUGE POOP was just hanging from his butt, down to his knees (remember, he hadn't pooped in a long time and even earlier that morning when he did, it was just a little bit). He always turns around to look at his pee, then takes the bowl out and carries it to the bathroom (our half bath is too small to fit anything else in there, so the toilet stays in the living room). As he turned around, I saw his poop, dangling there, threatening to fall off and onto my floor. I was petrified, horrified, terrified, and did the only thing I thought of at that moment.

With Catherine still latched on, I made a beeline for James and caught his poop in my free hand and flung it into the toilet. While I was trying to make sure all of it was going into the toilet, I knocked into James, which wouldn't have been a big deal, but his pants were still around his ankles and the toilet was behind him. So there went my son, into and over the back of the toilet. Thankfully, Catherine came unattached somewhere in all this, and I set her down, still feverish and not feeling good. I grabbed the wipes from the basket and wiped my hand. The whole time this is happening, James is crying because he hurt himself, still has poop wedged between his butt cheeks, and is cold because his pants are still down. At this moment, my son hates me and will most likely never poop in the toilet again.

I wiped and wiped and wiped and somehow, we got all the poop that had mashed itself to my sons butt off. I cleaned up the mess, and while doing so, forgot to hardcore celebrate the fact that he had just pooped in the toilet.

So I say the magic word: "Would you like a treat for pooping in the toilet like a big boy?"

"YES!" he says through teary eyes. We head to the kitchen, and with each step, I come to the realization that we have no treats.

I ate them all. All those Reese's Peanut Butter Cups: gone. All those Rolos: gone. All those suckers: gone.

We had started foregoing treats because he seemed to take to the toilet so easily. Oops. So in my fit of despair this past weekend, while going it alone with two cranky, sick and constipated children, I ate every single piece of candy.

Shit.

James had to make-do with carrot-sticks, which I called special suckers. I am sure he was like, "What the hell, mom? These are carrots." But whatever. I tried.

From there, Catherine went to bed shortly thereafter and James followed not long after that.

And somehow, I've lived to tell the tale. I hope the next 72 hours are a little less eventful.

Potty Training, Day 7

I am pretty sure we have it down.

James still won't poop, except at night in his night time diaper. But I have a feeling, it will come, sooner rather than later.

Today, he told us every time he had to pee. He got to the toilet fast enough, bit one ocassion, where he woke up from his nap and couldn't get his own pants down in time.

Apparently, he had crawled out of his crib, for the first time EVER, and chose to sleep in his twin bed we also have in his room. After waking up, he must have wandered over to the toilet and just couldn't get it, so he decided to try and oee through his pants, standing up. I wasn't here, but Eric said it was a lot of pee. Glad I wasn't here to clean up the mess!!

Overall, I think I can say we are well on our way, and for that, I am relieved! I thought Jt was going to be a much harder process, but I really think he was ready. Wahoo!

So there you have it. Back to the grind tomorrow. Looking forward to it!

Potty Training, Day 6

I knew the day would come when I would need some major encouragement.

It is here.

The day started off well. We peed in the toilet after waking up, tried before we went to the store, successfully went shopping for an hour, and peed when we got home.

And then it went downhill. I believe it has something to do with the fact that our kid hasn't pooped in three days.

I can tell he's running around, trying to hold it in. I don't blame him, suppose. Going from pooping in his diaper to pooping in open air would probably be scary. Holding it in is what resulted in accident, after accident, after accident. Even after we gave him juice (a big no-no in our house, but he picked it out at the store, and I knew from it's sugar content, it would probably have to make him poop). I also knew the juice was going to make him pee more, which I anticipated with asking him to sit on the toilet.

Several times, when asked to sit on the toilet, he did not want to. Most likely because he knew he had to poop.

Around lunchtime, we had our first accident, and it was a big one. Luckily, he was wearing sweatpants, so it didn't soak through, but it was a lot of pee.

After he woke up from his nap, where I was nursing Catherine in her room next door, I heard him moving around and knew I had to get there fast. But my milk hadn't let down yet and I knew it was going to be disastrous if she didn't at least get a few drops.

Yep, I was too late. I knew it was not an accident while he was sleeping, as his bed and blanket were dry. It wasn't a horrible accident, just enough to soak through his underwear and get his shorts damp. So we changed, I remained positive, and went about our day.

During his nap, Eric and I lugged our Christmas decorations up from the basement and began decorating. I could tell, as James shuttled ornaments from me in the living room, to Eric in the dining room, that he needed to pee. He would also wag his hands behind himself in a way that only someone who really needed to poop would. We tried to get him to sit on the toilet, which he did a few times, but most of the time, he would only pee a little. Then he would go about his awkward poop dance again.

After that, we had another accident because he refused to sit on the toilet. After that, I took the both of us to the hall bathroom, shut us in with the tablet, and sat on my toilet while James sat on his, playing Angry Birds. After 20 minutes, no poop. But hey, he had beaten several levels, so that's exciting.

Again, he had a sprung-a-leak accident and we didn't have to clean up a mess, only had to change his underwear. Dinner has been sparse around here since we gorge ourselves during the day, and gave James some pears and a slice of string cheese to snack on while we went downstairs to watch (you guessed it!) Frozen.

Because it was so warm here today, the basement was cold since we didn't run our fireplace. After coming back downstairs while quickly grabbing myself a sweatshirt, James was peeing. All. Over. The. Floor.

I felt horrible, but could not mask my disappointment anymore. I made him do everything this time. Mostly, I would grab some wipes, a towel, the spray to clean it up. This time I made him get it all. The towel, the spray, the new clothes, the wipes to wipe him down. Even though they were two floors up, I made him get it himself. I remained calm, but disappointed. He could tell.

The rest of the evening, he kept saying, "I pee!" and run to the toilet. He would yank his pants down and sit on the toilet, producing nothing. And then he sat there. On two separate occasions, he sat on the toilet for 15 minutes, producing nothing. I realized it was because he probably saw my disappointment and wanted to please me. Isn't that what this is all about.

In hindsight, today was a busy day. We cleaned the house from our vegetative state the past few days, did a ton of laundry, Catherine was extra fussy, and we decided to drag out all of our Christmas decorations. I ran to the store to get extra things we needed, and probably didn't pay as much attention to James as we should have. In fact, we should have definitely been more excited with his pee, but we weren't.

Part of that, I think, was our fatal mistake. We didn't celebrate like we had in the past few days, because I assumed (you know what that means...) that he got it, based off our success from yesterday. Apparently, I have to keep this charade up for awhile. Awesome...

Another part, was the fact that the kid hasn't pooped in three days. This is a kid who poops every day, sometimes twice a day. He can't possibly be feeling good. Poor thing.

If anyone out there (the whole 2 people who read this blog) have any advice on how to get this kid to poop in the toilet, please let me know. At this point, I've gone from curious to concerned in that he hasn't pooped. We gave him a bit of Miralax, which will hopefully help, but I don't want him to become constipated, and then have a horrible time on the toilet. Ugh.

So now, today, I will admit. This potty-training thing is hard.


UPDATE: I am a problem-solver by nature, and if I had to name one of my strongest characteristic traits, that would be it. I can't just sit and say, "Oh well, that didnt work out." Or "I need help." I just do. So I sat and thought about my sweet boy and his obvious fear of pooping in the toilet.

*BOOM* It hit me like a ton of bricks. He is used to going in a diaper, which is wedged up against his but all day. He is not used to it just falling away from his body.

I think the approach I am going to take is simply a diaper in the toilet. I refuse to back-pedal by putting a diaper on him except at night, but I really think that he is just used to pooping with something THERE. I plan to have Eric explain to him that the diaper will only be there when he has to poop tomorrow, and slowly, he will be able to see that the poop is still in the toilet. I just hope it doesn't backfire.

Also, as I was coming up to bed, I heard rustling in James room. Sure as shit (haha), I checked on him and he was standing in his crib, looked at me and said, "I pooped." So I took him out, took off his diaper, rolled the poop into the toilet, and he laughed. Then we took the toilet bowl to the big toilet bowl, dumped it and flushed the poop away, all while saying, "Bye-bye poop!" Just like we did the other day. Being that it was 11:00 p.m., he was not to thrilled. We put another diaper on and back to bed he went.

I am more than thrilled that he finally pooped, as I don't want him to become constipated, but less than thrilled it was in his diaper. Ugh.

It will be interesting to see how it goes tomorrow!!

Potty Training, Day 5

We are in our 5th day of introducing potty training, and in our 3rd day of fully executing it, and I can positively say, it has clicked.

This morning, I got James up and brought him into our bed with the rest of us. When we don't have anything to do on the weekends, we like to laze around in our king-size bed, watching stupid cartoons and just goofing around as a family. Sometime around 8:30, we usually get out of bed and have pancakes, or go get donuts, or have some other "special" breakfast.

Thanks to our busy last few weeks, I have no clean clothes. So after throwing a load of randoms in the washer (who has time to really sort when you're actually out of underwear, but need to fill the washer to a level where you're not wasting water?) last night, I snuck out of the bedroom and down to the basement to grab my jeans.

James didn't pee when he got up this morning, so I figured, like the past few days, he wouldn't pee until at least 9:00 or so.

Wrong! As I was grabbing my laundry out, I could hear his little footsteps two floors above me. I hurried, knowing that the second he came to the basement, he would want to stay down there all morning. Without the fireplace circulating warm air all night, it was cold this morning! I heard James start down the first set of stairs, calling my name. I grabbed the hamper and met him just as he was getting to the top of the basement stairs. Then he yelled, "Mom!" one last time, and peed. And it was a lot of pee.

It was hard not to start the day off on a negative note after that. I had read blog after article after blog about how their child was potty-trained in three days. Although I made very sure that my expectations were not as such, I was still hopeful, especially after the success of yesterday.

I walked him back upstairs after helping me clean up his mess, and we changed his underwear, then put sweatpants on. I remember being weary about the rest of the day.

However since he had peed so much, I knew he wasn't going to need to pee for awhile. I also knew we had about a half hour to 45 minutes in a car, dropping my car off to get new struts, and of course, grabbing some donuts (for those of you scoffing, this was something my dad did for us when we were little, on Saturday mornings, and I turned out just fine, no childhood obesity anywhere...). So we loaded up, a towel on the car seat, and away we went.

James remained dry. I remained calm. Catherine remained cute.

And that was the last accident we had. All day, James would yell, "I pee!" and proceed to go to his toilet, pull down his pants, sit or stand (he has amazing aim), whatever suits his fancy, and pee. Afterwards, he would yell, "I peed!" and grab his bowl, carry it carefully to the toilet, dump it out, rinse it in the sink, wash his hands, and flush the toilet.

Nap time came and I went to put his diaper on and he adamantly said, "No!" Okay, then. Not really sure what to do, I decided what the hell, and left him in his underwear.

He woke up dry. Albeit naked, because he was ready to pee when I got to him, but nonetheless, everything was dry.

He gets how to pull down his pants, he understands that pee goes in the toilet, he knows what it feels like when he has to go. He is starting to take himself to the toilet, even though he mostly looks for us to at least be there, present in this ever-easing process of potty-training.

So for those people that say potty-training can be done in three days, I guess their definition of potty-training CAN be done in three days. Although, when people say potty-trained, I think of no-peeing-at-night potty-trained. I hate grey areas, and apparently, what constitutes full potty-training is definitely, almost all-grey area.

But does he get it? Yes. Is he ridiculously proud of himself? Yes. Has he played dozens of levels of Angry Birds and read hundreds of books while sitting on the toilet? Yes.

But he hasn't pooped. Although we have tried getting him to "toot" into the toilet. Several times. And he usually does, but nothing that produces poop. So we will keep trying.

All in all, with the blogs and articles and pieces of advice I have sought out and pored over, I can say I hardly followed any of it. I went with what worked for us, our family, and our parenting style.

Mostly, the you're-going-to-do-this-damnit approach worked for us. There was no slow, month-long introduction to just the toilet itself. We said, "You're going to shit on the pot" and although no shit has happened yet, we didn't look back once we started.

I have bags and bags of candy sitting in our cupboards, because the reward for my son was a sense of accomplishment. Although we may need to use that for poop. So hopefully I don't eat it all.

It's been a relatively easy process and a heartwarming journey. Who thought I would be excited about pee? Certainly not me!!

Potty Training, Day 4

I would say this journey has, surprisingly, been a positive one so far. And here is why:

1) I had the correct provisions.

Everyone will need a small bottle of wine, for either that first success, or that first major disaster.

2) I figured out very quickly that James liked to hide before he figured out that he could just pee in the toilet.

One of the places James hid prior to one of his first "accidents." His 6 foot, cardboard train. 

3) I forced him to wear underwear after realizing he couldn't go pantsless at daycare.

Little-boy-underwear butts are seriously the cutest! 

4) I let the kid do whatever the hell he has wanted in the past few days, within reason. We have still had to send him to time out, but truth be told, it has only been a few times and it was for typical toddler things. I made very sure it was very separate from anything having to do with potty training.

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse/Frozen/Dinosaur Train for the 90th time today? Why not??

5) I have kept a detailed account of anything and everything that has happened in regard to peeing and pooping.

Pretty sure the kid didn't go four hours without peeing... I am assuming my detailed account is actually not-so-detailed.

So there you have it. We have been doing everything the way we typically do it here at the Engels Homestead.

Like I said, thus far, it has been a relatively easy journey. We started with rewards, but I was very inconsistent and pretty soon, we weren't using them anymore. I may have to take them out once we start the poop stages of potty training. After his first weird accident today, which was more of a sprung-a-leak sort that didn't even soak through his pants, I implemented a "spot check" where I say "spot check!" and lightly pat his crotch to make sure he hasn't leaked, or started to pee and then stopped.

We are rocking and rolling with only two   accidents this morning that were a result of him simply not getting to the toilet on time. Once he began to pee, he ran for his toilet and finished through his underwear. Which was pretty funny to watch! But from there, we kept the same pair of underwear on him all day.

All in all, I feel like I am missing something. Poop, of course, but something else... Maybe the ease of this will go away once he decides he has to poop...

Wish us luck in that department!

Potty Training, Day 3

Today went swimmingly until about 5:30 this evening. But before I get to that, I will chronicle the day.

We got up and I told him we were done with diapers unless he was in bed. I made him pancakes, we lounged around and played in the basement, all without anything on his bottom half. Including no undies.

He went into his play tent, and came out saying, "I peed!" Luckily, the tent has a tarp-like bottom, so with a few swipes of a towel, it was all cleaned up. Immediately, I put him on his toilet, and he sat for awhile. I explained to him that we poop and pee in the toilet. He got up after awhile and we resumed play.

All throughout the day, his pee dance is more than obvious. So as soon as he would start that, I hustled him to the toilet and he peed. I celebrated like it was my last day on earth. He helped me carry the bowl upstairs, dump it in the toilet, and flush. Then we resumed play. About a half hour later, there came the pee dance, and away we went again, same as before. Only this time, it wasn't a whole lot. Not really thinking much about it, back to the basement we went and James started playing by himself. I took the opportunity to read some articles about potty training, laying on the floor right next to the toilet. The next thing I knew, he was peeing in the toilet next to me. No prompt, no warning, and completely on his own. I was ecstatic.

The day was much like that, only having one accident in the morning. Otherwise, peeing in the toilet was pretty simple. I remember thinking that this could not possibly be it for potty training.

I was right. On a side note, Catherine is horribly constipated... Again. Since Eric doesn't have the rapport with our daycare provider like I do, they didn't talk about Catherine's horrible 4 a.m. scream session that resulted in passing a terribly hard stool, poor thing. Beyond that, when Catherine came home tonight, all she did was scream. Luckily, I have potty-training duty, so I just have to play with James and watch for the pee dance.

While doing so, I wanted to catch said daycare provider and ask about Catherine's day. In our conversation, the fact that I was doing pantless potty training came up, and she brought up a good point: he wasn't going to be able to go pantless at daycare. So I tried putting underwear on him. NOPE he was not having it.

Thanks to an egg allergy, James has eczema on one spot on his back, which happens to be wear his diaper rubs... And ultimately where the underwear dug in. We do not feed him straight eggs, which cause him to throw up and break out in hives, but do continue to give him baked goods with egg in it at the recommendation of our allergist, who said he will most likely grow out of it. So I rigged a bad aid for his "owie" and we put on underwear with minimal complaint.

Only after that, we had three accidents, right in a row. The second time, he was very upset with himself, crying while saying, "I pee!" and standing over the toilet, no longer having oee to put on the toilet. Poor kid.

So we will work on it some more tomorrow. At least I know he is OK with sitting on the toilet for long periods of time. Tomorrow will be another day, and will include Catherine.

Remind me why I decided to do this again?

Potty Training, Day 2

I geared up for the next 5 days by stocking up on treats and two packages of underwear with Thomas the Train and Mickey Mouse. Since James is a fan of both, I figured he would at least choose one.

Wrong. He wanted nothing to do with the underwear. I had placed both packages and the m&M's in his toilet, so when he came home, he would see all, and hopefully put two and two together. He quickly tossed the underwear aside, protesting heavily, and decided he just wanted to sit on his toilet while playing Angry Birds on the toilet.

I let him do that, nursed Catherine and made supper. James, once again, sat on the toilet for inordinant amounts of time tonight, fully clothed. A couple of times I quizzed him: "Is that YOUR toilet, James?" To which he replies, "Yes!" And each time he got up and played, after awhile, I asked him to sit on the toilet again. Each time, he did. Each time, he got an M&M.

So tonight was bath night, and afterward, I tried to throw on the underwear. Nope, didn't want to do that. He was very fidgety, and I could tell that he probably had to go to the bathroom, but didnt want to out a diaper on him. So I brought the toilet up to his room, Eric following close behind with the M&M's. We sat there while I read him book, after book... after book....... after book. And I quizzed him in between books. "What do we do in the toilet?" "I PEE!"

I think its pretty obvious that he gets it. But it was a half hour after bedtime, and I was convinced it wasn't going to happen. So I started suggesting 'night night.' So James got up and as I was about to grab a diaper, he began to pee.

I may be old, but still have cat-like reflexes and caught it almost immediately. I grabbed the actual bowl off the toilet and he contained to pee into it. And peed, and peed... and peed!

I celebrated harder than I did New Years Eve, circa 1999 when I ended up in bed before the clock even struck midnight. I jumped around, scooped him up, hugged and kissed him, and gave him high-fives. Then we walked to the bathroom together and dumped the bowl in the toilet, where we celebrated some more. Then I let him use his step stool to help me rinse it out. James might be a turd (haha) sometimes, but the kid is helpful as hell.

Then I let him carry the bowl back to the toilet in his room, and he celebrated some more. Each time, he would clap his hands together and say, "Yay! I pee!"

Then came the challenge of how to explain to him that I was about to put a diaper back on, even though he had just peed. So we said our prayers, and James turned off his light. We put him in his crib, and while putting his diaper on, explained that we are only going to wear a diaper at 'night night.' Because he peed in the toilet like a big boy.

To which he responded by clapping his hand and saying, "Yay! I pee!" That, you did, my sweet boy. That you did.

Potty Training, Day 1

I can't believe I am about to start this journey but here it is.

Let me first start by saying, I HATE the word potty. I think it's because at least once a year, I have a student who approaches me before class who asks me to "go potty." Seriously? You're in f-ing high school. So no more using the "potty." Ask to use the restroom, or bathroom, for crying out loud.

Secondly, this past week has been dedicated to research. Yes, that is me in a shell. I research THE SHIT out of anything. I gather opinions, I seek advice, I read blog after blog of frustrated mommy. All in preparation to potty-train (shudder... That word!) my beautiful son, who is growing up way too fast.

Our daycare provider, who is lovely, said two things that were resonant with me: make sure that once I start I don't go back and if I am ready, James will be ready. She said he has been showing the signs, which I agree with. He can dress himself, which I love. He can count to ten, identify letters, tell you what letter comes next in the alphabet when you randomly stop, and my personal favorite, he will tell us when he has peed or pooped by saying, "I pee!" or "I poop!" He loves to tell em when baby has pooped, as it is pretty obvious. The kid is ready, he just doesn't know it yet. So here I was preparing to potty train over Christmas while on my break.

Well, the tides have changed and here we are, with nothing to do over Thanksgiving break. So I figure its now or never.

We got home and I suggested James sit on the toilet. The real toilet. The last time James tried to pee in the real toilet, he slipped on his step stool and fell, hitting his rib on the side of the toilet, while his hand and arm went in it. After that, James wanted nothing to do with the real toilet.

So when I tried to get him on the real toilet tonight, it was not happening. So I pulled out the small toilet. Since he is obsessed with Elsa, I said we could watch Frozen while he practiced sitting on HIS toilet. Just with clothes on. He sat there for almost 45 minutes, watching Elsa while I fed Catherine and got dinner ready.

Once he got up and ate, he went to sit back on the toilet when I suggested it.

So we are at least being successful with that. We will see how tomorrow goes...

6 Months!

Well, my beautiful girl, you are getting more and more animated every day. You are finally becoming fun! 

You are so smiley and giggly, and your giggle is more of a weird inhale that causes you to squeak. It's so adorable! You aren't doing anything like sitting up, or rolling over, yet, but you're getting stronger. You are still so little yet, with your 3 month clothes getting tighter, but your 6 month clothes are just too big. I am anxious to see what you weigh at your 6 month appointment.

The crying spells are getting further and further apart, for which this mama is grateful. There were a couple months in there that I thought I was going to go insane.

We keep shoving new foods at you, and you're loving them. Your favorite is sweet potatoes, and we throw some apples and pears. I have to make such big batches at a time, I don't really make much else. Those three things are so easy to make, and your grandma gave me a big pot so I could boil ALL the sweet potatoes/apples/pears at the same time, rather than wait for my little steamer to only do one veggie/fruit at a time. It's nice to be able to crank out a month's worth of food in just a few short hours.

Your brother adores you. When you're crying, he becomes very concerned and puts the pacifier in your mouth. Sometimes he will cover you with his blanket. Sometimes, he will lay down next to you. It's very apparent that he loves you and cares very deeply for you. I hope that continues throughout your entire life.

I can definitely, without a doubt, say that I do NOT like the infant stage, and about 6 months is where I really start to enjoy little ones. Don't get me wrong, I loved you as a floppy bird, but to see you as a growing, giggling little girl is the best thing in the world. And to see how you interact with James is lovely. You are both my world.

I love you, little girl, You are becoming so beautiful to me every day. I can't get enough of you and couldn't imagine life without you!

5 Months!

So, 5 months has actually come and gone, and we are almost into 6 months, but with our schedule, this is about as good as it's going to get!

Not much has changed from when you were 3 months (did I even do a 4/ month update?). You are still cute and adorable. You still cry an obscene amount, but it is so much better than it was. We figured out that you are severely constipated, a the time, and that solids have treated you, and our sleeping habits, kindly.

So we have started to give you Miralax every Monday and Thursday. Sometimes the Monday dose doesn't do much for you, so come Thursday, it's Shit City. And I mean, blowout after blowout, round and round of poop. Usually culminating in a bath on Thursday or Friday nights. The amount of poop you sock away is impressive.

Miralax was suggested by our pediatrician and I don't know why we didn't start it sooner. The pediatrician also suggested starting you on solids. Particularly any "p" food. Pears, prunes, peaches etc. Those, apparently, help with constipation. But of course, not you, my dear sweet girl! So at our 6 month appointment, we will be looking at running a few rests to make sure your digestive track is working the way it's supposed to.

Otherwise, since we have started feeding you solids, you have grown considerably. You are still wearing 3-6 month clothes, but you can now fit into anything Carter's that is 6 month, since they run small. It seemed like that happened overnight, and honestly, it probably did. You are still in size 1 diapers, which is weird because you are definitely growing, bit I assume once I run out of those, you will be done with ones and on to twos!

We are still breastfeeding, and I am still pumping at work. We are still trucking along in that department, although at times, its very stressful. You are definitely teething as well, and I can say that with 100% certainty. Not because of the white, swollen gums, or the constant drooling, but because you bit me, and it fucking hurt! Way more than when I initially started breastfeeding and my nipples were cracked and bleeding. I would take that over being bit. Dear God, it hurt!

You love being held, which is hard for this mom. You love observing, which is like James at this age. And when I wake up in the morning to feed you, your face is about the cutest thing I have ever seen. You are always so happy!!

We haven't rolled over yet, nor have you started scooting. But you are also very tiny for your age, so I am expecting that will come later. James has always been in the 90th percentile and here you are, in the 5th.

But you are a beautiful, sweet girl and even when you have been crying for an hour and a half, I still love you!

All Saints Day

If you are Catholic, as is my husband, you will know that Saturday, November 1, was All Saints Day. You will also know that November 2 was All Souls Day. Essentially, these two days commemorate those who have departed with the belief that there is a spiritual bond between the dead and those still here on earth.

On Saturday, I attended a friends baby shower, with Catherine in tow. James stayed home with Eric, and when I got home, I fully expected James to be awake, up from his nap. That was not the case. Instead, Eric informed me that James had only fallen asleep a half hour before, after talking to himself and playing in his crib for almost an hour and a half.

He has never done that before. In fact, I can only count on one hand the amount of times he has lain in his crib and talked to himself, but never for an hour and a half.

When he finally woke up, I jokingly asked him if he had been talking to Grandpa Tom. "You know, big guy, blue eyes a lot like mine and yours."

He looked right at me and said, "Yessss..."

I didn't even realize what day it was, did not intentionally ask James, and was not expecting that response. Afterward, James grabbed a ball, stood in our entryway and threw the ball down the hallway. I am sure the ball bounced off of something and rolled back to him, but I was tending to Catherine and didn't hear it hit anything. James did this a couple more times, and although I was too distracted by Catherine to be able to tell, I thought it was odd that he was throwing the ball where he was throwing it, and after retrieving it, would throw it again.

I think it's important for my children to know who my dad was. I talk about him as much as I can, but oftentimes, it's only a brief mention, otherwise I begin to get choked up. I also think it's important that James and Catherine visit my dad's grave with me, so they can understand what it is that is so important about the man who was loved by so many.

However, those plans are always thwarted by James, who usually is not in the mood to visit the cemetary.

My choir is singing a song called I Carry Your Heart, which speaks of exactly that. I often try to give them a personal story to connect them to the text, and usually, it has to do with my dad. So I told them the story of James.

I have a Spanish student who said, "Sarurday was Dia de Los Muertas: The Day of the Dead." I about fainted.

True to some of the best times I have with my students, we got a little off track and my Spanish student asked if James gets freaked out when we go near cemetaries. I told them that when I take James to see my dad's grave, he loses it immediately inside the gate, the stay is usually very short and he cries the whole time. Some of my students were freaked out, but my Spanish student just mentioned that her culture believes that young children can see and talk to the spirits who visit on All Saints Day.

And the more I think about it, the more I believe in it. I believe James was playing with my dad. I believe James was talking to my dad. I believe James can see my dad.

The thought fills me with happiness and extreme sorrow. How much I want my children to know the person he was, and how much I want to just see him again, hug him, have a two-sided conversation. I think of the day I will see him again. I wonder what it will be like. I think of all the things I will say to him.

But for now, it looks like I will have to let James speak for me.

My Dearest Catherine

My Dearest Catherine,

All you do is fucking cry. I don't care that you are a baby and "that's what babies do." You come home from daycare and you cry. I nurse you, and when you're done, and warm, and sleepy and I put you down in your bassinet, you cry. When I soothe you with a pacifier, the very thing I did not want to happen, you fall back asleep, only to wake up to cry.

I can't tell you the amount of times that I have stubbed my toe, hit my shin, rammed my shoulder into the door jamb, all while rushing to your room in the middle of the night because you are crying. Or the amount of tears that have fallen over your tears, your wailing, or your incessant moaning that is more like nails on a chalkboard.

I have said horrible things while you are in the middle of one of your fits and my anxiety is making my skin crawl. I have fallen asleep after nursing you, only to wake up crying myself, frustrated that no matter what I do, it isn't the one thing that you apparently need.

And then I find that one thing that does work. Praise the Lord! Only to find that not even 24 hours later, it doesn't work. In fact  it feels like I am running through a list, and each thing on that list I can only use once, and then you are immune and I have to move on to the next. But the tricks on the list are becoming more and more sparse and again, my anxiety wratchets up a notch knowing there isn't much more I can do for you.

Tonight, after nursing you and putting you down, where you fell asleep within minutes, you woke up crying. I vowed tonight I would let you cry it out.

And that's when the panic attack hit. I have not experienced a panic attack in a few years. It was a pretty low moment, as I thought that part of my life was over with. Only for it to come roaring back tonight, while I was sitting on my couch, watching my son throw a ball in the house and my husband answer emails on his phone.

While the mess of my house began to suffocate me. Luckily, I identified it and once again, trudged upstairs and comforted you. Once again, I stuck a boob in your moith, followed by a pacifier when you wouldn't eat. And then I rocked you. And sung to you.

And cried.

I am so. fucking. tired.

Everyone tells me this is a phase. This too shall pass. Hang in there. My baby did this too. He/She grew out of it.

But they aren't in the trenches anymore. They aren't frustrated and sad and tired and hungry for some time to just relax.

But then there are those moments when you are sweet and lovable and that reminds me there is light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes I have to squint to see that light, but its there.

It's there. Somewhere.

I love you, Baby Girl. But holy shit are you exhausting.

Mama

Battle of the Body Image: Week 20

Here I am, Week 20 postpartum and although I have lost the bulge, the hips don't lie. I hate them.

I hate that my boobs are too big for most of my shirts. I hate that although my jeans button, my love handles stick out. I hate that my nursing bras cut into my back fat. I hate that my tummy flops over said jeans-that-button. I hate that all my dress pants, for some reason, don't button. Or zip all the way. I hate that I still walk weird because said hips-that-dont-lie are loosy-goosey. I feel unstable on my feet. I think I look tired 99% of the time, probably because I am. I am not as well put together as I could be, because it's either put my shit together or sleep for another half hour. I will take sleep, hands down.

I hate the postpartum body. I hate the postpartum period. I hate the postpartum. Period.

I can't be happy with the 156.4 I saw on the scale this morning because although I weigh less than I did when I fit into those dress-pants-that-dont-button, I don't fit into those dress pants that don't button. Its frustrating.

Each day, I wake up with an idea of what I'd like to wear. And every outfit gets changed because I don't like how I look in it, even though its a skirt I have had since I was a sophomore, or a shirt that has been a staple in my wardrobe for years. That is also frustrating.

I have learned to throw together outfits quickly, cover them with my jean jacket or a sweater and feel halfway decent. But until I can see me how my husband sees me, I will continue to look like a tired, strung out mom with two kids, two years apart.

Hips don't lie.

Baby (Food) Maker

When I got pregnant with James, all I heard was how expensive babies are. Don't get me wrong, they can be expensive, but I am proud to say that for our family, babies aren't really that expensive.

Since we made babies later than our friend
made babies, we were able to get plenty of things handed down to us. As in, toys upon toys upon toys. Some toys were ones we had given to their children for birthdays. Pretty funny...

We tried cloth diapering, but we weren't very good at it. I thought I would try to bring it back with Catherine, but I had so many leftover diapers from James (despite an expiration date on diaper boxes, I can assure you they don't expire) that it just seemed natural to try and get rid of those first. So, that's what we did. And we have yet to break out the cloth diapers.

We had a lot of hand-me-down clothes from friends, relatives and neighbors that had barely been worn or still had the tags on it. Don't get me wrong, I still buy James clothes, especially now that he is getting bigger and he outgrows clothes so fast. But we haven't really had to buy too much for our kids.

Lastly, when James was about 4 months, we started him on rice cereal. We gradually worked up to solids and when I saw how much jars of baby food cost, I was not about to do that. I had read about making your own baby food, and decided I wanted to at least try.

Eric bought me a Baby Bullet with all the accessories, and I made baby food for James. Tonight, I made pureed pears for Catherine, using the ripe pears we picked off our pear tree this weekend.

Just call me a regular pioneer woman.

With two pears, I made two weeks worth of dinner for Catherine. Just dinner because otherwise, she still gets breast milk. To get two weeks worth of dinner in baby food jars, I would have had to spend upwards of $1.50 per meal, multiplied by 14. That's $21. No thanks!! Kind of like our $50 formula that would last us a week. I don't think I will be doing that when I could do it for next to nothing.

So there you have it. It took me 26 minutes to steam the pears (put in device with water and push start), a minute to mix them in the baby bullet, and a couple minutes to put them in ice cube trays. After they freeze, I just have to put the cubes in a freezer bag and tadaa! Baby food for a couple weeks. If I have to hardly work over paying money for baby food, I will choose the work. The best thing I like about it is I know exactly what is going into her food. I am not an organic freak by any means, but when it comes to my babies, I am concerned with what goes in their bodies.

Now, stay tuned for how those pears work for Catherine's digestive tract... Another blog post for another time!

Walking on Sunshine

Before I begin this post, I want to say that on this day, Wednesday, October 8, I am not at work. Because Friday night, Catherine hardly slept. Saturday, Catherine took about an hour and a half nap. Eric and I got in late Saturday night and Sunday was the same with Catherine, with James also still getting up at 7:30. The plan was for Eric's mom to take James and Eric out to brunch so Catherine I could get some sleep, since we had been up since 5:30, no dice. She cried for 2 1/2 hours while they were out and about. When they arrived back about 1:00, I was in tears. Sunday night was a lot of crying from Catherine and a ton of crankiness from an overtired little boy. Sunday night was filled with fitful sleep, getting up several times with Catherine, who didn't seem to stop crying. EVER. Monday night was worse, since we figured out all the lack of sleep was thanks to constipation. Monday night was The Night of Marathon Pooping. Finally by 9:00, both she and I were exhausted. I passed out about 10, only to wake 5 hours later to a crying baby. I passed the buck to Eric since I was going to be gone all day and all night at an honor choir Tuesday. I got home last night and could barely keep my eyes open. This morning was the same. Up from 3 a.m. to 5 a.m. I was going to try and power through my day today after my secondary wake-up time at 6:15, but I began to cry. I am so. Fucking. Tired. And I knew I was going to be nothing for my students today, nor for my kids after I exhausted myself at school. If there is one thing I have learned in life, it's that I need to take care of number one. So that's what I am doing. Getting some much needed sleep, and relaxing. Last week, my milk supply plummeted, and I was having to pump 5 times a day just to get enough for two 5 oz. bottles at daycare. Yesterday and Monday were much of the same. Today? I just pumped 7 oz. in my first pump of the day. I'd say that's quite a bit more than the 3 oz. I was pumping in my first pump at school!

So I woke up, pumped, and am laying in bed, actually relaxed. I am still exhausted and ready to go back to sleep, but for now, I am enjoying my day with no screaming baby and no toddler trying to cast spells on me.

In relaxing, I read my cousins blog. She was nominated for the sunshine award and I really liked the questions she came up with. I will be honest, I miss filling out my weekly pregnancy survey, so these questions were right up my alley!

1. For purely selfish reasons, what is your favorite go-to dinner dish? I've long since run out of new, easy, good recipes, and looking to add to our weekly staple rotation!

Well, look no further! My go-to dish is fucking pizzzzaaaaaaa! The kind that I don't have to make. Doesn't really matter from where.

2. When someone asks for a book recommendation, what is the one book you always suggest?

Books? I haven't read since before Catherine was born. Ugh. I have a friend who wrote and published a book that I would like to read, but haven't gotten around to it.

3. Name a talent you have that others probably don't know about.

Wow. Maybe I should have thought about this a little more before I started answering questions.

4. Sunsets or sunrises? 

Sunrises! They signal the start of a beautiful day.

5. The best way to unwind after a long day is…

Playing with my kiddos, no joke. Sometimes my kids are the reason I had a long day, but in all seriousness, there is just something about being silly with my kiddos that relieves a lot of stress. I love chasing James around the house. Or throwing a ball around with him - and yes, we do throw balls in this house. I am not going to trade my beautiful Mikasa vase we got for our wedding for a lifetime of childhood silliness a little boy's mama!

6. Any guilty pleasures?

Since I can't have dairy, soy or egg, I have, in fact discovered Lays potato chips. Made with Corn oil, they are on the "yes" list and I buy the Party Size every time I go grocery shopping. I haven't eaten them in years, but damn are they good!

7. What is a character trait you hope people associate with you?

Integrity. It's so important to me that I do what I say I am going to do.

8. Favorite words to live by? 

The homily at our wedding was simply a quote by Winston Churchill, which was, "Never give up. Never, never, never give up." I look back on that quote about every day. Especially during some really dark times in my life and marriage.

9. If you could go to dinner with any one person (alive or deceased) who would it be, and what are two questions you would be sure to ask them?

My dad. And I would only ask him one, which has plagued me since he died. "On the day that you died, did you have a good day?" For some reason it's so important to me to know if he was able to have a few laughs, that he was wearing a smile on his face, that he had a good talk and jokes with his friends. And that question might lead to more, but that's the number one thing I will ask him when I see him again.

10. The last concert you attended that you insist others must see, too.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Or Slipknot. Or Green Day. I loved Tool and Weezer too. This is probably a bad question - I have seen way too many bands in concert. Incubus was excellent as well. Blues Traveler!

11. Your favorite blog post - be it yours, or a post written by someone else.

Either the one about PTSD, where I finally laid it out on the table and talked about my bright orange post-it notes, or what was really going on in my head. Or the one about misdialing my dad's old cell phone. Selfish, since they are both mine, but to write both those out and see the hold I was able to release on my mind told me I was finally healing.

I hope all that read this go on and have a happy, sunshiney day!

Debt-Free Update: Debt Free No More

When we were just married, Eric bought a truck outright from a private seller. It was a beauty. A Ford F-150 Lariat Supercab, white, with a hood scoop, rumble muffler and an amp that would make a 16-year-old boy jump for joy. Not to mention my husband. It had a cattle pusher on the front, oversize off-road tires and was obviously well taken care of. We lucked out, got it for a great price, and have driven it ever since.

But it was getting old. 174,000 miles, and rust was beginning to show. It was getting to the point where we needed to sell it to get anything out of it. The great thing with trucks is that they hold their value really well - especially American-made trucks. Some of the truck we saw while searching for his "new toy" were $15,000 and they had the same amount of miles on it. Unfortunately, that was not ours. Kelly Blue Book had Eric's truck priced at $6,000, in fair condition, which we would say it was more in good condition than anything. No dents, a little spot of rust here and there, and overall, a well-maintained truck. But like I said, it was time.

So we posted Eric's truck on Craigslist and waited. Had a few bites, but no one came to look at it. So we dropped the price from $5500 to $4500. We would have been happy with $4000. But again, no one took the bait.

As we waited for Eric's truck to sell, we researched trucks online. And looked at car dealerships. We took Sunday drives as a family to check out local dealers and dealerships. For two months, we searched for the "perfect" truck that would fit Eric's needs. Leather, so it was easy to maintain and upkeep when he was dusty from a day at the job site. Some, but not all, bells and whistles, so that it would hold it's value even more, for even longer. Four wheel drive, since he hauls a trailer. Supercrew cab, since we need to haul two kids in car seats. White to match his trailer, and easy to keep clean. Each one of those things drove up the price.

During our search, it was decided that we might not be able to put money down on a truck without overextending ourselves. We pay $1100 a month in daycare alone, with a $900 mortgage. We didn't want a $500 a month truck payment. So I went to the bank. Being debt-free has it's advantages, and we rang in at 2.3% interest, the lowest we could find.

So we searched some more. We finally decided on a truck and went to test drive it one day while our kids were at daycare and I was about to start school. It was good, and we liked it. Came with all the bells and whistles we were interested in, plus a DVD screen and two wireless headphones in the back. It was older, and had some miles on it, but like I said, trucks hold their value a lot longer than cars and SUV's, so we were ok with it.

But the experience was a pretty poor one. Negotiations were made in the lobby of the dealership. They were only going to take Eric's truck at $2500 and they refused to come down in price on the truck we were looking at. So Eric and I walked.

But we kept coming back to that truck. This past Sunday, we took another family outing to look at it again. For some reason it was unlocked, and we sat in the cab. I didn't like it. Something just didn't feel right.

Due to a long-time teacher in our district passing away, school was dismissed early on Monday. I didn't know the teacher, so I came home and Eric and I talked about our truck options. For two months, it seemed like that's what we've been doing. We were getting tired and starting to talk in circles. So we took one last look at autotrader.com, and saw a truck that was newly listed at a dealership 40 miles away. There was only one picture shown, but it was white, supercrew cab, Lariat, leather interior, and exactly what we had been looking for. It was slightly more expensive, but it was worth a look.

So we drove to the dealership, only to find that the truck was out being detailed. Luckily, Pam, our salesperson, was incredibly kind and offered to drive us to the detailer, which was only a short drive, to take a look at the truck. When we pulled up, we were interested. Very interested. It was obviously a well-maintained truck and we were anxious to get a look inside. The same there too - very well maintained.

Pam allowed us to take it for a test drive, and that was it. Eric and I were sold. But we were worried what they would allow for trade-in. In those two months of no bites, we had started to reluctantly accept that no one wants to buy a 15 year old truck. Even with a clean title, and it being well maintained, the person that bought it would be a needle in a haystack and with winter coming, we knew it was only a matter of time where something happened with the truck, and we would be putting more money in than what it was worth.

Long story short, they came back with $3000 on the trade-in. Aggressively, I came back with $4000. She came back with $3500. I told her $4000 and the truck was sold. And sold it was.

So with our down payment and trade-in, we didn't have to take out a huge loan. It's a doable loan, with four years of payments on it. But, we took out a loan with a payment knowing that I can, and will, pay ahead on it, so hopefully it's done in three. Eric is happy as a lark, and just said to me, "I think I'm going to sleep outside in my new truck..."

It's a nice looking truck, with a few minor dings, scratches, and chips that come with buying a used vehicle. But it's nice, and we love it.

Debt-free works sometimes, and sometimes, it doesn't. For us, it wasn't feasible to pay cash for a truck. Like Eric has said several times, he can't be pulling up to half-million dollar houses in a rust-bucket. The truck he has now is modest, but looks good. He can be proud when he pulls up to his client's houses in it.

Although our goal has been to maintain our debt-free status, it's also a goal of ours not to get into a situation where we are forking out money left and right to maintain a vehicle that isn't worth it. We were on the cusp of that, and we didn't want to risk it. So we're happy, and even though Dave Ramsey would be disappointed, we did what was right for us, and right for Eric's business. We deliberated a long time, talked abut it for a long time, and made the best decision for us. And that's all that matters. :)

Our Little Family: An Update

Breastfeeding: Four months in, and we're still going strong. I'm not a cow, like some women tend to be when they breastfeed this long, but I'm able to consistently produce enough. My lactation consultant told me that Catherine should not need any more than 4 ounces per feeding while at daycare, so that's what Christy was giving her, twice a day. Finally, Christy mentioned that maybe we should up it to 5 ounces, which stressed me out. I was only producing 10 ounces, which would mean there would be nothing left over for me to freeze at the end of the week, or for Christy to use in case Catherine had a sudden growth spurt. But we upped it to 10 ounces, and I've been keeping up. I am part of a breastfeeding support group on Facebook, and several times, mothers will post something about "low milk supply" because they're not producing more than what their baby eats. Well, duh (and I can say that now that I finally understand breastfeeding, thanks to many support groups, lactation consultants, phone calls to the hospital, and reading a shit-ton of books on it. Oh, and let's not forget, googling the shit out of it). Your body is only going to produce what your baby eats. The other day at Catherine's four-month appointment (where she weighed a whopping 12 pounds, 3 ounces... 4.5 pounds less than James at four months!) the doctor showed some concern regarding her weight, but not much considering she is still gaining steadily. Luckily, her appointment was during the time she typically nurses, so I was able to breastfeed and weigh her. She ate 6 ounces. Multiply that by 5, and she's eating anywhere from 25-30 ounces a day. That's more than the lactation consultant recommends, but she's a hungry girl, I guess! Luckily, I'm able to produce that much, and I'm fortunate to have a job that allows me to pump 3 times a day in order to provide for my child. I am also excited that I am no longer in the panicky stage of breastfeeding. I am in the smooth-sailing stage, where now all I need to do is nurse Catherine when she needs/wants it. From here on out, my milk supply will begin to taper off, and then diminish as we start adding more and more solids to her diet. Crazy to think that this is the peak season, so to speak. But I'm thankful it's going well, and I am so grateful to all the people who have helped along the way. Oh yeah, and for Google too. Thank God.

Battle of the Bulge: The Battle of the Bulge has been won, but the Battle of the Body Image is on-going. To the point where we got our family photos back, and I cried to Eric because I felt like I looked terrible. My hips were too wide, I have love-handles, my thighs touch together. Oh, and let's not forget, I just had a baby, so even though I'm below pre-preggo weight, I'm still "misshapen." And who knows if I'll ever get back to the body I had before. So just today, I was looking at the pictures, and I tried to look at them from my husband's point of view, a guy who tells me nearly every day how beautiful I am to him. I used to hate it when he would say things like that to me. But after trying to be a better wife, I have realized I am very lucky to have a husband who still thinks that about me, two kids and 10 years later. I'm not the 19-year-old he fell for anymore, in more ways than one. He loves me for who I am; big hips, loud demeanor and quick mood swings! So maybe I need to start looking at how I see myself. Instead of seeing love handles that stick out in a weird way, maybe I need to start looking at the fact that I haven't been this weight, or looked this good, in over three years. I love my long hair, which is weird because I've always wanted to keep it short for easy maintenance. No, long hair is easy maintenance! I think my eyes are really pretty. For not working out and just having a baby, my stomach is surprisingly flat. I have good looking legs. And all in all, for the most part, I feel good about myself. It's just hard not to see photos and zero in on those things that aren't "perfect," especially for a perfectionist like me!

The Daily Poop Scoop (and Sleep Update): Catherine had some poop issues earlier in life, and it seems as though they are still plaguing her. On Monday night, she became fussy about 6:30 and by 7:00 was scream-crying to the point where my anxiety was going to cause me to crawl out of my skin. I finally gave her a bath and while she settled and sat, soothed from the warm water, I realized she hadn't had a bowel movement all day. When I really thought about it, she hadn't had a bowel movement all weekend. That was three and a half days without poop. No wonder she was fussy. So I did what any good mom would do - wet a wash cloth and tried to stimulate her rectum. Never thought there would be a day where I could add that to my resume of amazing things I've done in this lifetime. But there you had it, and that's all it took. She started pooping... and straining to poop, then pooping again. I took paper towel after paper towel to catch it when it would come out so it wouldn't get in the water and make it nasty. It was a dirty job, but Eric was getting James, who had been puking all weekend and into Monday, ready for bed, so I was on my own. Following the poop-scapade, I put Catherine to my breast to nurse and she fell instantly asleep. My milk didn't even let down (which led to some crazy-full boobs the next morning!) And she slept all night. So that's where the sleep  issues come in. Once she sleeps, this girl sleeps. But it takes her so much to get to sleep. It's the most grating, anxiety-inducing two hours of my life. So last night, I just let go of my anxiety (who knew it would be so easy?) and decided that I was going to let her cry it out. After 20 minutes of screaming, it was apparent she was NOT going to sleep. So I nursed her, which she did NOT want. Then I tried baby massage. I have never massaged a baby in my life, nor have I ever taken any special massage class. I just rubbed her little legs and funny enough, when I got to her hips/butt cheeks, that's when she calmed down. Again, not something I thought I would be able to add to my resume in this lifetime, but there you have it. Professional Butt Massager. Once she calmed down enough, I put her in her bassinet (she's still small enough that we just use her bassinet). And boom. Immediate scream-crying started all over again. Luckily my nerves were that tired that I was able to walk away and let her cry it out for the 15 minutes it took her to eventually fall asleep. She did end up waking up last night, for the first time in ages, but she soothed herself back to sleep. Tonight, I put her to bed at 5:30, an hour and a half before she normally falls asleep. She talked to herself for about 15 minutes and then I heard nothing on the monitor. When i checked on her, she was fast asleep, and stayed that way. When I woke her up to change her diaper and dream feed her, she was asleep by the time my milk let down (but thankfully because of intelligent design, she continues to suck and thus still gets full. Beautiful!). I put her in her bassinet and she's been sleeping ever since. Hopefully, this sleep pattern continues!

Speech Regression: A few weeks back, I blogged about James' speech regression. The progress he has made has been amazing. He talks so frequently now! He needs to work on his diction a bit for better understanding by strangers, but to us, he talks much clearer than he ever has. Tonight, I asked him if he had to pee, and he said, "Uh-uh. No pee, mama, no pee." So adorable! I'm so thankful we're heading in the right direction. It's awesome to hear all the new words he knows! And somewhere in between that post and this one, he learned his alphabet (upper and lower case) and his numbers up until 10. What? One day we were watching Super Why (God bless PBS) and boom - he pointed out and said all the letters that popped up on the screen. Holy crap! It is awesome as he is so proud. He is starting to spell short words, like "B-O-B, Bob!" for Bob the Builder, and things like that, which is much faster than I would have anticipated. So even though he doesn't totally communicate how we'd like him to, the kid can spell for God's sake. We've got to take what we can get.

Illnesses: Dear God, help us. Last week, I was sick with a cold and fever. I've also been blessed with viral-induced asthma, which doesn't allow me to properly cough anything up, so bacteria just sits in my lungs and manifests into something worse. Normally, every year, I end up with walking pneumonia or something. But this time, at Catherine's four month appointment, I mentioned it and the doctor gave me a steroid inhaler to use every morning and night, and another one for "attacks." I can tell a difference already, which is amazing. I wish I would have figured this out aBeingbout 5 years ago!! Hopefully this year, I don't get sick! However, once I got over my fever, James got the flu. The nasty diarrhea/vomiting flu. It was horrible! Following that, today Christy called us to come get him because he had a fever! Seriously? It's not even October yet, so I'm dreading the winter. Hopefully, this is the worst of it? Yeah right....

Being a Better Wife: My mother is an incredibly critical person, I an inherited that trait ten-fold. I am a perfectionist and I expect people who I surround myself with to be perfect as well. Only, I expect them to be perfect the way I want them to be perfect. So instead of being critical, I've tried really hard to look at the positive things. Instead of the fact that Eric has the garage so full of shit that I can't even walk through to find anything, I am trying to concentrate on the fact that the reason it's full of shit is because of all the work he's doing on other people's houses, which brings in money that allows us to live the way we live. Things like that. I told him tonight that I feel like I'm in a much better mood most of the time now that I'm not wasting energy hating the things he does. I have to admit, he does a lot, he works hard, and he's a great dad. So... we'll see how long this Positive Polly charade keeps up. I'm trying really hard, which is good.


So there you have it. There are so many things I've been wanting to blog about, I thought I'd just put them all in one post rather than several other posts. Who posts 5 things in one day, any way? Seriously? And, let's face it, very few people, if any, read this blog. It's really for me to chronicle this life as I live, and love, it.

Let's hope for a good night's sleep... :)

4 Months!

How is it that you are 4 months??? Even more so, how is it that you are 4 month and weigh 12 pounds sopping wet?

Actually, I don't know if you are at 12 pounds or not. At the last breastfeeding support group I went to, you weighed 11 pounds, 7 ounces. Hopefully in two weeks you have broken into the 12 pound range.

And since you are four months old, shouldn't you have a schedule? Seriously? But you don't. Not even close. Every night its a toss-up. The last few nights you have been falling asleep after you "after-daycare" feeding that ranges anywhere from right at 4:00 to almost 6:00. So you eat at 5:30 and then fall asleep until 9:00 p.m. Then I dreamfeed you and you're out until you wake in the morning. Which is anywhere from 5:00-7:00 a.m. At daycare, you typically eat at 10 because even if I nurse you at 5:00 a.m., I will feed you again before I walk out the door. Then you eat anywhere from 1:00-3:00 in the afternoon. Sometimes you take a long nap, sometimes a short one. I will be the first to say it's annoying as hell! :) But the fact that you are always ready with that big, beautiful, gummy smile makes it all worth it! I can't wait until you are finally on a damn schedule though!

You are on the verge of rolling over. I can't wait! Its so cute to see you try so hard! You love your tummy time as that's about all you spend your time doing - trying your hardest to roll over! You also love faces, making faces with me, and simply being held. And no worries there, we love holding you!!

You are still breastfeeding and while at work I have been able to keep up. Its nerve wracking at times, but at the end of the week, Christy always hands me extra, so I know we are getting enough out - thank God. Breastfeeding is the harder thing I have done, but it's worth it!

James adores you and frequently delays bedtime so he can love on you a little bit. You love laying on the floor and watching him run around, which can be a little scary when he gets to close to where you're laying! I can't wait until you're a little older and you can run with him.

I love you little girl. Your tiny hands, nose, wars, and giant head (just like daddy). You are everything I ever dreamed!

Battle of the Bulge: Week 17...? And a half?

I have no idea where I am on my Battle of the Bulge updates. In fact, I only know that Catherine will be four months old on the twentieth, which is... next... Sunday?

School started and I now have two full time jobs. Teacher and mom. For eight hours a day, students need me. Then for the remaining 5-6 where I am NOT sleeping, my family needs me. With so much going on, I have lost track of time.

So out of curiosity today, I stepped on the scale. 157.2. In a month I have lost about 2 more pounds. I don't know what it is about my family gene, but somehow it allows us to look thinner than we really are. The other day while having lunch with my coworkers, my pregnant colleague was lamenting that she had gained ten pounds in four weeks, putting her weight at 160. Not thinking, I said, "Oh! That's what I weigh!" And my colleagues could not believe it. So that was awesome.

The following day, a student exclaimed that of I lose any more weight I would be anorexic. An odd compliment but I guess I will take it.

Overall I am feeling pretty good. I am fitting back into clothes I have not seen since before James was born and people are starting to genuinely comment, instead of the "You look great (for just having a baby)!"

Onward!

Speech Regression

About 2 months ago, I went to Adventureland with my cousin and her son, who is only 6 weeks older than James. I was impressed by his use of speech, and when I mentioned it, she said his speech had really taken off in the last month or so. People always talk about never comparing kids, so although I did a really good job of accepting it for what it was, I was still curious if it would happen for James that way.

About a month ago, I noticed James wasn't making a whole lot of sense when he would talk. I didn't think much of it, considering he is also working on so many other developmental milestones. But it still made me wonder. But in the hustle and bustle of life with a newborn, I again, didn't think anything of it.

On Friday, our daycare provider sat me down and told me the cold, hard truth of what she sees at daycare. James went from an easily 100+ word vocabulary to hardly anything at all. He frequently says mama/mom, Dada/dad, ball, up, down and a handful of other words, but he wasnt using words he used to use, like sit, milk, cup, water, walk and others.

She is no doctor, but she has been doing daycare for 12 years and has three kids. I think the woman knows what she's doing. But it was still a blow to the chest.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized Eric and I use too many yes/no questions, and not asking James to express himself using his words.

I immediately came home and googled the hell out of it. And came to the conclusion that James does talk a lot, but he doesn't make any sense. In other words its a whole lot of jibberish thrown in with a few "mom" and "dad's." I was mortified I didn't pick up on it sooner.

Of course, the most common diagnosis with speech regression is Autism. And if James were to be autistic, I would still love him unconditionally. But as I only speak the truth, I knew that if he were autistic, it would be a very difficult and tiring road to travel.

I don't think that's the case. Watching him play with the neighbor kids this weekend and play with us too, I know in my heart he isn't autistic. He still makes eye contact and still loves to socialize. He loves hugs and kisses and cares very much for Catherine.

But in trying to pinpoint when James' speech began to regress escaped me. Until Saturday, when talking to our daycare provider again, she about smacked me upside the head.

Catherine was born a few months ago.

So after a debilitating bout of food poisoning Sunday, I googled the shit out of that. It seems like its pretty common. That's why the experts don't recommend potty training a toddler before a sibling is born; they usually regress. Apparently, the same can happen with speech.

Christy, our daycare provider (sent from heaven, by the way), suggested we lay off the yes/no questions and instead encourage James to use his words.

Just in a few short days, I have noticed a difference. Although he doesn't use them of his own volition, when we ask James to use his words, he does. There are still words missing, but like potty training regression, I know they will come back.

Parenting is the most stressful, tiring, exciting, fulfilling thing I have ever done. I love my little boy with a passion I didn't know I had, and to see him "regress" in any way is difficult. But it's my job to help shape him, and by God, a little regression isn't going to stop me, or him, from being successful.

So until then, here is to words like fish, dog, cat, sit, milk and all the other words I know will come back.

3 Months!

Holy cow, where have the last three months gone?

I didn't really write a one month or two month update because we were having so many issues with your feeding. But now that that's going well, I can better focus on the real update: my sweet baby girl.

You have changed so much since we brought you home from the hospital! You are so smiley and you love sitting up and taking in your surroundings.

You have started daycare and I think that has gotten you on a much better schedule. I nurse you right before I go to school, and then you take two bottles at daycare. After that, I nurse you when we get home. The evening is where it is hit or miss. Sometimes you clusterfeeds, and other times you just eat twice with a dream feed at 10:30. All in all, it's a nice schedule.

You were sleeping through the night, but I think these past two weeks you have been going through a growth spurt. Every three hours around the clock and instead of your usual 8 ounces at daycare, you had 11 ounces. And then by a miracle, last night you slept through the night again. So hopefully this spurt is over.

James loves you and its been fun to watch him grow with you. He really enjoy a kissing "beebee" and is always very concerned if we go somewhere without you. Its very sweet and I hope you stay close as you grow up.

I was terrified to have a little girl, but now I love it. I love your cute clothes and your adorable bows. I love dressing you in the morning and playing with you at night.

Its been a challenge, but one with the greatest reward. Love you little girl!

Battle of the Bulge: Week 13

So I missed Week 12, and I am sure the 2.2 people who might actually read this blog didn't miss it much. School started and I hit the ground running. And when I say hit the ground, it means someone hit the fast forward button on my life and holy shit, I am busy. Getting up earlier than I ever have before, getting myself ready, nursing Catherine, getting her ready, getting James ready, getting them both to daycare after packing a dairy-soy-egg-free lunch for myself, teaching a full day of school, getting home and nursing Catherine again, feeding my family, nursing Catherine, an not getting enough sleep all have left this blog in the dust. But... The show mist go on.

I stepped on the scale tonight for the first time in... Well... Two weeks. 159 on the money. That's after a full day of lactation cookies to help keep supply up while pumping at work, past salad, and some dinner. I can honestly say I am under pre-pregnancy weight exactly 3 months postpartum.

But I hate this body. My boobs are huge and my favorite shirts are too short for my already-long torso. My belly and hips are still thicker, so most pants/shorts still don't fit. People tell me I look great but I don't see it. I only see a very tired mom uncomfortable in a foreign body.

But I have lost the weight I wanted to. Its just interesting because I am not as happy as I thought I would be. I wonder if that's what is wrong with people who have eating disorders? Either way, I love food too much to even consider an eating disorder. Even my dairy-soy-egg free food is better than not eating at all!

So I will trudge onward. Experts say it takes a full year fr your body to get back, if ever, to its pre-pregnancy shape. So I will, again, trudge onward! Here's to Week 14 and most likely 15...

Who are you?

Anytime I happen to look at how many people have viewed my posts, or commented on my posts (both of which I just figured out how to do, I think of the song by The Who; "Whoooo are you? Who, who? Who, who? (I really wanna know!)"

Like I wrote in my profile, I wrote this blog for me. When I lost my dad, there wasn't anyone with whom I could talk about it. All my friends were too young and in fact, still haven't lost their dad, and didn't understand the degree to which I was grieving. I remember one breakdown with a coworker who put her hand on my shin as she was sitting across from me. It was the most awkward showing of sympathy I think I have ever encountered, but made me realize that she simply didn't know what to do.

I could only share in the grief with Eric. But he lost my dad in an entirely different way, so it was difficult to grieve with him.

My mom was also grieving another way and I felt like I had to be the strong one in the relationship. So I pushed my grief aside with every meeting with the lawyers and every phone call.

With my mom, so much of my family was also grieving. And to be completely honest, speaking about my grief made it real, and I wanted to be as far from reality as possible. So I avoided talking about with anyone. Then the idea of this blog was born. It was like I could send my thoughts out into space where they could drift off without anyone noticing. This was my little secret.

When I hit the four year mark, I was faced with some friends who were experiencing their own grievances. So I shared this blog with them in hopes that they knew there was someone out there who could honestly say, "I know how you feel" without actually saying it. And maybe in the middle of all my words they could see that the thoughts they were thinking are OK.

My cousin seems to have a love and talent for blogging, so I shared this secret with her. I never thought she would want to share it, but this past winter, she asked.

I was past the PTSD, and although I miss the hell out of my dad every day, I can say I am past the grieving. My situation with my psycho stalker student was done, so there couldn't be any negative repercussions from talking about it, so I took the plunge and said yes.

Immediately after I did, I was terrified. I spent that night checking my blog posts, fixing misspellings thanks to frequently jotting posts with my phone. I added a profile so people didn't think I was just some babbling psycho with a chip on her shoulder.

And then she posted it. It was terrifying. I got one follower (I don't even know how to follow people) and a lot of views (48) and o started thinking of ways I can spice my blog up and make it cute like hers.

And then I realized that that's just not who I am. I don't have a blog so I can write about my awesome vegan banana bread recipe that I found (although I have thought about it because it's fucking good!). I am a mommy of two demanding children. I play "business manager" to my husband. I am a wife to a very busy husband. I am a teacher who loves her job. I hate people who bitch and moan bug don't try to fix the problem. I hate being late. I love to play the piano and damnit, I am really good at it. I really enjoy reading my cousins blog because it reminds me that there is some food in the world. I am a conservative who believes in the right to bear arms. I cry over really stupid shit. I am emotional and feel things very deeply. I am a lover, a fighter, and I have survived some really shitty times. I love having fun, being funny, and laughing.

And that's who I am. Who are you?

Battle of the Bulge: Week 11 (What Bulge?)

this is going to have to be quick because a certain someone is being baptized in less than two weeks and I have ahouse full of people to prepare for. On today's docket is cleaning the basement so the kids can have some place to play if it's hot or storming.

Looking in the mirror today I finally felt good. Stepping on the scale I felt even better. somewhere between 160. 8 and 161. I'd call that a success.

While cleaning the basement I found a Christmas card that my mom sent out when James was six month old. I remember being horrified that she would send out a card with pictures in which I look so terrible. We took the pictures when James was 3 months old and those pictures were taken almost exactly two years ago to the day. I can honestly say that I was at least 175 pounds if not more. So for fun here is a picture of then and now.

Onto week 12.

Single Mom

When I first started this whole parenting thing, I scoffed at the parents who put their kids in front of Baby Einstein (there was a study that came out saying it didn't work and Baby Einstein confessed that was true), my kid wasn't going to be staring at an iPad all day (because we done own one, although we have a Nexus that I love) and they were going to have fruits and veggies with every meal.

In reality, James could probably recite the entire Smurfs 2 movie, (and who am I kidding - so could I), loves the many puzzles I have downloaded for him on my Nexus and had a hot dog bun, an entire peach, a piece of banana bread last night for supper (although tonight, he did have an entire peach -again- a huge helping of peas and a hot dog, so score 1 for mom).

In reality, single parenting is hard.

Last weekend we had a lovely family weekend. Monday is when "family" went to shit. Eric is trying to finish a job, so he worked late Monday. He worked late Tuesday. Wednesday night our neighbor gave us a much needed date night, but then Thursday and Friday were back to the same. He worked all day today, leaving me with a very independent toddler and a fussy baby. Not to mention I was extremely hungover, but that's another story...

Our date night on Wednesday forces us to "catch up" if you will. We really didn't get to enjoy each other, instead we talked about the things couples of two children, a mortgage and not enough time on their hands talked about.

"Catherine's appointment went well today, she doesn't have to be seen for another two weeks."
"When I picked James up yesterday he told me Ella rode her bike! I've never heard him use the word bike before!"
"James has started calling me mom instead of mama." (*sad sigh*)
"Catherine was up twice last night but went back to sleep right away."

And then Eric dropped his bomb.

"I think I need to hire someone."

Finally, the realization that he can't do it all himself was voiced and I couldn't agree more. And we are terrified.

We do everything with cash. Our entire closet, bathroom, bedroom remodel is being done with cash. Our cars are paid for. I have one measly student loan left and then, excluding our house, we are debt free. We have a cedit card we use wxlusovely for filling up with gas and we pay it off every month so we don't accrue interest.

So to take another human being who is dependent on us for their well-being is incredibly daunting.

We have a savings but that's ours. Its not for his business. He has a fluff fund, but that's to buy new tools, insurance premiums and everything else to do with his business.

Taking on another person would be more in taxes, like unemployment and payroll. It means workers compensation insurance. It means Eric has to stay busy. And right now, he is busy. Terribly busy. So busy that he can't keep up, even working 12 hour shifts. I jokingly said at the beginning of July that if we could survive July, we could survive anything. Eric laughed and said, "If we can survive until the end of the year." Because that's how much work he has backed up.

So in that one sole statement, Eric turned our world upside down. Five years ago, he did the same thing when he told me he was going to go out on his own. And that, too, was scary. But we survived. And we have thrived.

So here we go into the abyss. I am praying that it turns out to be as lucrative, as beneficial, and as lovely as the last five years have been. We have been fortunate, and I couldnt be more thankful.