Just Another Manic Update: Birthdays, Bananas, and Battle of the Bulge

Where do I even begin? Probably the beginning.

James: 
I knew two years ago, when bragging to a friend, that you sleep like the dead, that I would one day pay for it. The day has arrived. You fight bedtime like it's the plague, and we have gotten ourselves into a terrible routine. You don't like going to bed. You don't like your room. You want to sleep with mom and dad (NO!). You need another drink of water. You're hungry. You have to poop (which you always seem to announce LOUDLY). It is never ending. We have tried stickers, reward programs, letting you stay up later, and everything you could possibly think of to bribe you. Nothing. Nada. You refuse to go to bed at a decent time. Then, some days, you are so tired we can't keep you awake, so you take a nap. It doesn't matter if it's 10 minutes or an hour, if you nap, you are up until the wee hours of the night. Which is hard on mom. If I had my way, I would go to bed when Drew does at 8 or 9. But nope, 10:00 p.m. rolls around and you are still awake. I have tried cutting out sugar, reading more, letting you watch a movie on your tablet. Finally, after wracking my brain, I thought that maybe you have some sort of weird separation anxiety. So like any reasonable, responsible adult, I googled the shit out of it (my M.O. don't forget), and low and behold, I guess it's a thing. And it started to happen right before Drew got here. I am hoping you will grow out of it, but every night, it's a battle. Most nights, we just wait until you pass out wherever you decide and then move you to your bed. It has been as soon as only a couple of hours later, and you're in our bed with us. It drives me nuts, because I will also pull Drew into bed with me in the wee hours of the night to nurse laying down, so I can at least REST, and all of a sudden there are four people in our king-size bed. Drives. Me. Crazy. I really hope this doesn't last, and I am really hoping that summer will take care of it when the "big kids" are at daycare with you. Ugh.

Otherwise, you are a picky eater (compared to Catherine, who LOVES steak and pork chops - weird!) and you're very smart. You pick up on things quickly and use that to your advantage as much as possible. You hear popcorn popping at 9:30 because breastfeeding mommy is hungry? Down the stairs you come, ready to tell me you happen to be hungry.

I am trying not to be a hardass for a parent, but at the same time, I am definitely a hard ass. I don't take shit, and it breaks my heart when I tell him he needs to go to his room. He will say things like, "You are not being nice to me, mom!" You're right. I'm not being nice to you, son. Because it's my responsibility as your mother to make sure you don't grow up to be stupid. So, if I have to be mean this one time (or multiple times), then so be it. But on the other hand, when we shut his door to put him in time out in his room, he freaks out. I mean, FREAKS out. Screams about monsters and how he's scared. I honestly think he's afraid that we won't come back to get him, or something. It's rather bizarre. The other night, he climbed into bed with us while nursing Drew (pretty sure Drew's crying woke him up) and he told me he had a dream that he was on a school bus with the "big kids" and the school bus made him get off and then he couldn't find his way home. And while he's telling me this, he honest-to-God started crying. At 2:30 a.m. I was crushed. I felt so terrible for him! So I really believe there is some sort of fear there that we are going to leave and not come back. Once Drew and Catherine go to bed, James is on me like a fat kid on cake. He will not let me out of his sight. If I go downstairs to get something to drink and happen to take too long talking to Eric, he will come down adn find me and tell me he was worried because he didn't know where I was. So I think there's something there, but I really don't know what to do except let it run it's course.

Catherine:
Oh my, little girl, it has been a wild ride the past few weeks. We had your MRI, plus your allergy appointment. It was terrible to see them put you under for the MRI, but I am glad we got it done. Turns out, you have fluid in your inner ear (I was right, you asshole ENT doctor!). Why? Because of allergies, which we found out you have. But not environmental allergies, like we thought. You are allergic to... *drum roll* fucking bananas. Seriously? Milk and bananas, the two things you have at daycare EVERY DAY. We took milk out of your diet, but since it's such a low class, the allergist suggested just regular milk, cheese, milk based products like sour cream, but if it has milk baked into it, like cake or something else I cannot think of right now, you should be ok. Then we find out you're allergic to BANANAS? Again, seriously? I could not believe it. And what's even funnier is that you chow down bananas like they are going out of style. So obviously, we are no longer giving you bananas. Your runny noses are gone and the allergist said the fluid from her inner ear is most likely gone as well. You are honestly a very different little girl, even from a week ago. It finally seems like you are happy.

We have been working with the speech pathologist - she is more or less training us than she is working with Catherine. You can now make duck noises, pant like a dog (which is hilarious) say yes, mom and dad, and you have several noises for objects, but no actual words. But it's a start. I am excited to see how this summer goes.

Today was your second birthday. You weren't too excited about your gifts, but you LOVED your cake! And even though James blew out your candles, you seemed to really enjoy being sung to. You are so, SO sweet and love being a "mom." You have your babies that you carry with you everywhere, and you love pushing your little stroller around, putting them in it and throwing them to the ground a few feet later. You love helping me with Drew, including finding his pacifier and blanket any time I am holding him. You are SUCH a lover and you have the biggest heart.

You are starting to run, which looks more like a linebacker than a little girl, but you love to run around with James. You also love to play with the "big kids" but of course, it's difficult for you to keep up. They love playing with you (until you get tired and whiny!) and you love the attention. You could be pushed around in a stroller or pulled in a wagon ALL DAY LONG. You just sit like a little queen and enjoy the attention from everyone.

You are still small, still wearing 18 month clothes, but you are growing. We are moving forward, and from a year ago, that's huge.

Drew: 
I just updated everyone (no one?) on your 3 months, but I can't believe how much you have changed in the course of these 3.5 months. Sunday night was a nightmare and I happened to see every hour on the clock. It was tough, and the next night was almost as bad, but Tuesday into Wednesday, you let me sleep for about 5 hours, which I so appreciated. I felt like a new person on Wednesday! You love cluster feeding at night, which kills me, but I deal with it. By about 9:00 p.m. I am touched out. Which is difficult because that's when James is getting REALLY clingy, and I can hardly handle it. Eric has been fairly good about things though, which is helpful. Sometimes I have to remind him that I can't do it all and he can't just let me do it all, but every once in awhile, he surprises me, and for that, I am thankful. Like tonight. I am blogging while you, Drew-boo, are downstairs, asleep in Eric's arms because while I was in the shower, you started crying. It seems like my one 20 minute shower every night is the only time I can get away. Which brings me to my next header...

Touched. Out.
I told Eric tonight I would like to go 10 minutes without someone needing something from me. Tonight, when we were packing up to go get our new couch (yay! new furniture!), I told Eric I was going to park in the street so he could easily back up the driveway to unload our couch. He said, "You should park behind the trailer." No. I don't want to fucking park behind the trailer. I want to park in the fucking street. I hate parking behind the trailer. I have to get out in the grass, and then the next morning, I have to walk through wet grass, with nice shoes, just to get into my car. And my car sticks out into the sidewalk, so it's hard to see the kids when they are running from one house to the next with the neighbors. So no. I don't need you telling me where to park my damn car! My dad used to do that too, and it would drive me nuts. "You should......" NO. I shouldn't do anything you want me to! I didn't ask for your damn suggestion! Overall, I just want people to not need something from me, or tell me what to do, for like, 10 fucking minutes. I just need 10. fucking. minutes. Ugh!

Mobility Yoga and PT Graduation
I had to skip last week's mobility yoga because something happened (not sure what, I can't remember back that far) and I couldn't make it. Ahh, yes. I forgot my damn milk at school, in a cooler without an ice pack. So I had to go back for it. Damnit! So I missed my second yoga class, but was able to go this past Monday. It was awesome. After a night from hell with Drew, a day from hell at school, I honestly did not want to go. But I am so glad I did. I'm not really into that whole namaste shit, but it was awesome to stretch my body and feel good while doing it. Then I had physical therapy on Wednesday and tadaaa! I graduated! I can officially feel my leg! And my foot! Although as I sit right now on this bed, it's tingling, but I'm sure it has to do with the fact that I'm sitting poorly. But seriously. I finally feel like I can walk normally, although it still takes a bit to get going from the sitting position, but I feel much more limber. I am going to look into yoga classes for the summer.

Battle of the Bulge
I am still at the weight I was when I blogged the last time after having the flu. Which is not a huge deal, since I figured I would bounce back up a bit after I started eating. But honestly, I am about 14 pounds from where I want to be, and that's pretty good. I still hate how I look and dressing this body is difficult, but I can honestly say I am starting to really tell a difference between the same clothes that were once pretty tight to now where they fit me snugly. Especially my nursing tops that I got right after I gave birth. Those are getting fairly loose, to the point where they shift in the middle of the night and I leak all over. It's awesome. So I've pulled out some of my old ones from post-Catherine and they are still a little tight, but better that than too big!

The Kitchen
Our kitchen backsplash came in, and I am excited for Eric to start putting it up. I can't believe we actually found one we both liked, but we also talked with a designer who led us away from glass tile and to natural stone back splash. And BOOM, that was it. Also, Eric got a huge discount for being a contractor and working out some deal that he would have his clients now pick their stone from this particular place. So I guess there are perks to having a home that is never finished: a contractor-husband who can get you good deals. All in all, we have done our kitchen remodel for about $8000 and our bathroom remodel for about $2000. Considering Eric would charge anywhere from $40-50,000 for our kitchen remodel in someone else's home, I think it's safe to say we are definitely ahead. It's nice to have almost 50% equity in a home. And once again, we are doing it all on our own. Buying a "fixer-upper" was the smartest thing we could have done for ourselves.

So that's it. Life is constantly moving, and I am always feeling like there truly aren't enough hours in a day, but summer is almost here, and life will slow down a bit. And for that, I am thankful!

Potty Training, Breastfeeding, and The Return of Mother Nature

Potty-Training. 
Still no pooping in the toilet. James has pooped just about everywhere but the toilet. My daycare provider has been working with him, I have been working with him, but the kid will dance around and hold it until the urge must, obviously, go away. He has pooped in his pants while crouching down for something, and in the bath, both situations catching him by surprise. So that's how, I think, we'll have to trick him into it. Both times, I wasn't "around" (just in the other room) to catch it in time. UGH! But like I said, we're working on it.

In all, peeing has been great. James still celebrates like it's his first time, but the kid is easily excitable. He pees standing up in front of his small toilet, sitting down on his small toilet, standing on a step stool in front of the big toilet, or sitting backward on the big toilet. He takes great pleasure in aiming his pee everywhere he can in the bowl, oftentimes making swirls or zig zags. It's pretty funny to watch.

But no poop. Since he holds it, we put him in a diaper for naps, although we didn't start off doing that. After getting sick and having a series of accidents during nap, I put the diaper back on. He often wakes up dry, and sometimes even wakes up having pooped (how does someone poop in their sleep??), but I feel better that it's there, just in case.

Breastfeeding
I cannot believe that I have made it this long breastfeeding. But it's been a fight. More often than not, I feel like I'm not producing enough milk. And then, all of a sudden, Catherine seems like she's satisfied. The anxiety that I have gone through in regard to breastfeeding is enough to last a life time, but I am so glad that I am still going. It's been so worth it.

When Catherine was about 5 months old, we introduced solids, and that put us on an awesome schedule... at home. At daycare, it was a different story. After sitting down with my daycare provider, we finally figured out she was giving Catherine waaaay too much breast milk, which didn't coincide with the schedule we were smoothly sailing through here at home. For about two months, her schedule has been:

6:30 a.m.    Nurse
8:30 a.m.    Solids
9:00 a.m.    Nap
11:00 a.m.  Nurse
12:30 p.m.  Solids
1:00 p.m.    Nap
3:00 p.m.    Nurse
5:00 p.m.    Solids
6:00 p.m.    Nurse/Bedtime
9:30 p.m.    Dream feed

And then she sleeps for 12 hours (unless she's screaming, then NO ONE sleeps. Except James... that kid can sleep through anything).

So Christy and I figured out that instead of giving Catherine solids at 8:30 a.m., because Christy transports and has her in a car, where she easily falls asleep, Christy gives Catherine breast milk at 10:00, when Catherine wakes from her first morning nap. Then Christy gives her solids for lunch, about noon, and then more breast milk at 1:00. So Catherine's schedule was flip-flopped, which meant I was unable to pump what Christy was giving her. Thankfully, we were able to sit down and figure it out, which took all the stress and anxiety about not being able to produce enough, away. And since then, it's been glorious. I am so thankful for a daycare provider who strives to understand rather than boss me around and tell me what to do as a parent!

So, there you have it. I nurse 4 times a day, giving Catherine about 28 ounces, plus 3 ounces of food each feeding, which is about 12 ounces per day. And from here, we just up the ounces of food. Since I've made it this long, a lot of people are asking how long I think I'll go. I keep saying a year, because after that, it gets weird. But now that I know her birthday is less than 5 months away, I wonder if I will really make it a year. And when I say a year, I mean, quit at 11 months and then use my freezer stash until that runs out, then start her on whole milk. But I wonder if I will actually go up to a year, and then quit? I'm not sure. I try not to think about it, because truly, my most favorite part of any day is when I creep into her room at 9:30 p.m., gently rouse my little princess, and have her dream feed.I know a lot of people nurse for as long as possible because they want to avoid the dreaded return of their period... which brings me to The Return of Mother Nature.

The Return of Mother Nature
As I write this, we are waiting for the first snow of the New Year. But that's not what I'm talking about.

Oh, no. As I was recuperating from my night celebrating the eve of 2015, a night full of Lilo and Stitch (I hate those movies!) and a constipated 7.5 month old, I felt like I had partied circa 1999 New Year's Eve where I didn't even make it until midnight. Why yes, that New Year's Eve I was in bed before my parents.

Nope. I was in shock. Because my period returned. WHAT? 

Christmas was not necessarily a nightmare, but I felt like I was in a high-stress situation at all times. Catherine was not having the pack-n-play, or really, anything about Christmas, and whenever she cries for long periods of time, my anxiety flies through the roof. It sucks. So I always felt like I was on edge.

During the day on New Years Eve, I tried nursing Catherine, but my milk would not let down. It was so frustrating and took a good 5 minutes for my milk to finally release. I remember getting so frustrated, right along with Catherine. And then, I was terrified, because I thought I was losing my supply. Again. For the billionth time this month. But no, apparently, that is what can happen with the onset of your period. Which came the next day.

Happy 2015 to me!

I forgot what it was like to have my period, and I especially was not anticipating it's "triumphant" return so soon. Neither was my husband, judging by the disappointed look on his face. But in the back of my mind, I knew it was bound to happen. I just didn't know it was going to be 7.5 months post-partum.

But the biggest thing I underestimated about it's return, was the horrible way I felt. Not to mention, I have always been able to stave off the cramps and bloating with Midol, or some other miracle drug. Nope, not this time. The pain was horrible. It's subsiding, here on Day 3, but it's still there. And beyond that, my boobs hurt the most. Not my uterus, which felt like a basketball with spikes on it, sitting in my gut, and every time I would move it would dig in a little more. Nope. My boobs, which felt like they were pulsing with pain. I swear, I could look down at myself and literally see them move with every heart beat. They hurt. so. bad. What the hell was that all about? Then, when my milk came in when it was time to feed Catherine? Holy hell. Call an ambulance. I remember having to breath through the cramps that happened when I first started breast feeding in the hospital, at one point having to hand off Catherine to concentrate on breathing through them while the nurse said, "Yeah, the cramps are way worse with the second kid." Nope, these were way worse. Not to mention, on top of all that, I just felt like shit. Tired, lethargic, and desperately wanting to find a way to occupy my children with some electronic so I could catch a few hours of sleep (haha, yeah right, like that would EVER happen).

Advil does't recommend taking more than 6 pills in a 24 hour period. But Advil isn't a breastfeeding woman, 7.5 months post-partum. I absolutely took 12 pills in a 24 hour period, and that still didn't help. What's even more awesome is that, being the good wife I am, I told Eric I would take the kids yesterday so he could watch his bowl games. What a mistake. Sometimes, I wish I could call in sick to parenting. Oh well, we're on the mend. Hopefully. Only now, I know this bitch will be back in less than a month, and I'm not looking forward to it. At all. I wonder if they make anything stronger than Advil? Maybe Vodka?

So there you have it. My life, in a nutshell. It did not contain any stories of debauchery. No shenanigans of any type. And that's exactly the way I want it.

God bless this life. Poop, boobs, and periods included.

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...

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... :)

2 Years Old!

So, I realize this post is a wee bit late... like, almost a month. To be honest, I've dreaded writing it. How is it that my baby boy is already 2??

Your birthday came and went without anything really exciting happening. We didn't want to have a birthday party for you in the traditional sense, because we didn't know when Catherine would be making her appearance. Not to mention,, I didn't want to be that pregnant and trying to make birthday treats and goodie bags. So, Christy, your day care provider is awesome and said we could have a little birthday party during daycare. I took the morning of our 40 week appointment off, and we had a little shindig for you with cupcakes and a few treats. I figured, it was more fun for you to be surrounded by your daycare friends than just something little at home with boring mom and dad.

So your birthday came and went, like any other day. We waited for Catherine's arrival and I tried to make every last day with you count. We did a lot of things in those last few days, and I'm glad I did. Catherine is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to eating, and usually has me all to herself from about 7 p.m. to 10 and beyond, since that's when she likes to cluster feed.

We finally had your two year appointment. The pediatrician said you're developing wonderfully, you look good and you are a BIG boy! 91st percentile with 33 1/2-34 pounds and approximately 37 inches. I say approximately because you wouldn't step on the scale to be weighed and you wouldn't stand still long enough to be meausred. So I stepped on the scale without you, then with you and we quickly deduced the difference. Then I had you walk by the height scale while down at your level and saw it was about 37ish inches. Funny how we have to adapt things like that.

So your doctor's appointment went as well as it could have. You weren't the best behaved child in the world, but you also are very shy around people you don't know. Combine that with the fact that our pediatrician was poking and prodding you, and you weren't a happy camper. Needless to say, you got two Dum-Dums during that appointment! And yes, I am not above offering my child candy to get them to cooperate in a high-stress environment!

There are so many things you are doing now that you are 2! The most amazing thing to me is that you have friends! Real, genuine friends, who like to come over and play. And want you to come over to their house and play. And you do. It's adorable. Your bestest friend is Ella, who lives across the cul-de-sac, which is very handy. She comes over pretty frequently, but I have a sneaking suspicion it's because we let her watch Barbie Dream House and have freezie-pops. :) But all is good, she's a good friend to you. She's about to turn four and she helps you with several things. You both love to run and laugh and she holds your hand while you go on walks around the cul-de-sac. She teaches you different words and gets you to say and do new things. It's so much fun to watch!

You can jump, which is funny to watch as you're so big! You love your "beebee" and like to give Catherine your blanket. Usually, it's to cover her face, which we quickly fix, but it's very sweet of you. You have been sweet to her since we got home from the hospital.

You say so many things, I can't begin to describe. Some of it we still can't understand. You are constantly asking, "What is that?" which sounds like, "Wha ziz at?"But we get it nonetheless. We don't always get what you're pointing at when you ask, but we try.

You're also very funny when you don't want us doing something. You hold out your hand and say, "STOP!" in a very demanding tone. It's hilarious, unless it's past your bedtime and we are trying to get home from the park, which has happened a few too many times.

You love to help and it's super annoying. We love that you love to help, but it takes so long to do anything. You have to help buckle "Beebee" into her car seat, you have to help push the cart, you have to help load the dishwasher. It's incredible, but at the same time, it's a lot of consumed time that requires a lot of patience on our part. Luckily, I'm a teacher, which requires me to have a lot of patience, so I've had lots of practice simply holding my tongue and letting people figure it out. Which is what I have to do with you. A lot.

You love going on "rides." We are rarely in the car with you, since daycare is three houses away, so you love going on rides. You roll the windows all the way down and let the wind blow through your hair. During those rides, you love to tell us where to go. You will point and say, "That way" or somethings, just "that." Going over the interstate and seeing all the semi's and cars on the road is one of your greatest thrills. The other thrill is directing me exactly where to go, and somehow, you usually end up leading me right to Bass Pro Shops, which is only a few miles from our house. You love looking at the fish, stopping by the toy section, and watching people at the shooting range. You have also discovered how good Uncle Buck's fries can be (the restaurant attached to Bass Pro), so we've stopped there a dozen or so times.

All in all, you are a rambunctious little boy. You love playing with the "big kids" and are constantly running around. My favorite part of any day is either waking you up (when I'm home to get you up in the morning, whcih has been every morning lately!), or picking you up fro daycare. I love watching you discover things (bubbles!) and I love watching you learn.

People have a "favorite" age and I can honestly say it's this age. It's hard, it's emotinoally and physically taxing, but all in all, it's a lot of fun.

You are my heart and joy. I love love LOVE you little man!

22 Months!

Update: today your daddy had to take you to the doctor thanks to vomiting, fever and hives. You weighed 32 pounds and measured 34 inches! At this rate, double your height you will be 5'8" when you are all done growing! I certainly hope not!

Wowza... I cannot believe you are closer to the age of 2 than you are to the age of one. And oh, my, how much fun you are!

You help out so much around the house, it's almost annoying. I will unload the dishwasher (trust me, your dad doesn't do it!) and you are right there, grabbing things out and handing them to me. Anything I ask you to throw away, you do. You pick up your toys without being asked more than once, you listen well if we take the time to explain things to you, and overall, you are the love of my life.

You are starting to understand what we say, and are able to answer yes/no questions with definite yes's and no's. Do you want a snack? No. Do you want milk? Yes. ALmost it's more like "mm-mm" and "yeah!" with those yes and no's, we can still discern exactly what you are wanting.... or not wanting.

You play so well with others, and are always willing to share your toys. Tonight, we met up with your cousins Hudson and Harper, and you were constantly handing them things that they might want. A cup, a book, a marker. It was awesome to watch you with little people and see how much fun you have with others.

You are a social butterfly, which is where you get bored quickly with mom and dad. You love being around people, even though it takes you awhile to warm up to them. You love chasing after other kids to see what they're about to do.

You hate it when we won't let you do something for yourself. You hate it when we try to carry the humidifier tank for you - you have to do that yourself. You put on your hat yourself, and you always try with your coat, but we're still getting what arm goes in what hole. You try to put your shoes and socks on yourself, but that's a struggle, especially with those big winter boots.

You eat well, always amazing me with how much you put away! You sleep like a log, and if you do wake up, we know it's for good reason and you NEVER wake up. I certainly hope your baby sister sleeps the same way!!!

More and more words/phrases/sentences are happening. The big ones at this moment that I can think of are, "oh, wow!" and "Let's go!" Mommy is too tired to think of wht else you say on any given day...

You listen to well to directions, and when we actually do have to use time-out, which really isn't that often, you learn quickly. SuperWhy is currently your favorite program, and we watch one episode before you go to bed each night. I think it's our way of getting a little down time with our little boy for these few months left before your Baby Sister arrives.

You are starting to run everywhere, you have boundless energy, and overall, you are the most adorable little boy I have ever laid eyes on. I love you to bits and pieces and am always so excited to pick you up from daycare.

You are your father's son. You like to observe, take stock of situations, and then react after making sure they are safe. You think deeply about the decisions you make, and you always know exactly what you want.

You always say you're sorry, you love using please and thank you, and it warms my heart that you are such a polite little boy. I'm wondering if your sister will, in turn, be hell on wheels. I guess we will see!!!

I love you with everything I have, and then some. I miss the days when you were small, but love these days too. I wish I could have one of each, but I know that won't happen again. I cherish these days, even when I'm tired and cranky and don't want to do anything, I do it anyway, because I never know when I'll get the chance.

I love, love, LOVE you.

21 Months!

You are such a little boy now! My goodness! It always throws me off when I see how much you're picking up. Tonight, we went to the store to buy daddy's Valentine's day gift (much needed BOXERS), and you tried to push the door. I told you you had to pull, and you did! Crazy!

You are talking so much and it's so much fun to watch you with your little friends at daycare! I love going to pick you up early and just watching you run around with Ella. It seems as thought Ella might be your bestie, and I think you might have a crush on her. We're in luck in that they live right across the cul-de-sac too, so you are able to look out your bedroom window and hopefully NOT into hers. :) But you can at least see her house. Yesterday when I picked you up from daycare, you two were chasing each other around, kissing each other! It was adorable!

Christy, our babysitter, loves you and is always telling you how much you help at daycare, and what a joy you are. It's always nice to hear that you are, truly, a good little boy who simply has his bad moments.

Speaking of which, you are starting to have your bad moments during diaper changes, which baffles us because you get your own diaper and wipes at daycare and then just lay down on the ground. Tonight, you wanted to play with the tablet before bed, which I'm not opposed to as you usually just thumb through it, not really stopping on anything. I think you just like watching the icons go by. So I told you I would let you play with it after you got your diaper changed and your pajamas on. Boom. Done deal. You went into your room, grabbed the diaper and wipes, and laid down on the floor!

We've been using stickers to the point where I might have to buy out the Dollar Store sometime soon. But it works, so I don't question it. You love your stickers, and sticking them on the sticker board is such a joy. You love helping dad "fix" the fire place when the pilot light goes out (which happens all too often, for some reason).

When I pick you up from daycare, my keyword to get you to move faster is "dad." You love your daddy and cannot wait to see him at the end of the day. It's fun to see how you run into the house and call for him

We've been trying to get out and do more things with you because I think you get bored so easily with us. It's so much easier, as well, to just wear you out and then get home and put you to bed. You seem to do so much better when we are out and about, especially because you're rarely in the car, and I think you really like car rides.

We have a very special bed time routine that I will forever cherish, even when it's long gone. We say our prayers, and your dad picks you up (it hurts my belly now that I'm getting bigger...). You kiss your dad, your dad kisses me, you kiss me, and it goes like that for a little while. It's fun and special and we do it with just your night light and projector going, so there's barely any light. I love it and will be very sad when those days are gone.

You give excellent hugs. Your laugh is contagious and I cannot fathom life without you. Well, I lie. I can. And it was not near as joyous, tiring, frustrating, loving or full as it is now. I had a high school friend lose his daughter today after 5 months of life. I cried in my office for 15 minutes after I heard the news. It broke my heart to think of having to go through that as a parent. I hope I never have to. I love you James Thomas.

You are truly my everything!

20 Months!

Oh little boy, you are a joy and a handful at the same time.

But first, I want to talk about the moment that brought me to near-tears tonight.

You are obsessed with belly buttons. You love your belly button, love showing it to people, and will find it the instant you are asked to find it. The same with other people. You love finding their belly buttons, pointing them out, laughing when you stick your finger in it.

Typical 20-month-old behavior. but tonight, when you hiked my shirt up over my growing belly to find my belly button (still and innie, thank God!), I told you that you have a little sister in there.

I said, "There's a baby in my belly." And you put the palm of your hand where you had just seen her kick and said, "Baby." It was beautiful. I love you always, but at that moment, my heart swelled for you and your little boy charm. I can't wait for you to meet her.

Otherwise, you're in tip-top form for a 20-month-old, with lots of words and phrases and more things that we can't understand. But lots of things we can, like when you want to go downstairs, you say, "Down" or "Me down." You understand "me" as in James and I hear you say it every one in awhile.

You are starting to drink from real cups, rather than your sippy cups, and you have figured out that you need to set them on a table or counter when you're done with them, or your milk goes away in a hurry as it all leaks out, usually all over our arpet (awesome!).

You are obsessed with the bathroom, still. Love flushing the toilet, turning off the lights etc. So we bought you a toilet seat that fits over ours. We already have an actual potty-training chair for you that even has a splash-guard for little boys, but it's so hard to sit in at any given moment. We've tried just to sit you on it, not even to practice, just sit and you certainly don't want to. So we tried it with the toilet seat, and you didn't want to have anything to do with that either. So I wonder what it will take to get you to start potty training. At least you're still interested. I'm tired of diapers and don't want to have two children in diapers!

You are more than familiar with time out, and usually after one night of several time outs, you are good for a couple of days. Your daddy is finally starting to "grow a pair" and figuring out that he can be stern and you'll listen and not hate him.

You can be the sweetest boy, bringing us our glass of water to drink (which causes me to have a panic attack every time because I swear that you are going to drop it), steak knives that we have left out too close to the edge of the kitchen counter (no cuts yet!) and sometimes, you like to try and share hot dogs with us (even the beef ones that I buy that are more dollars than typical "hot dogs" I will not touch...)

You have a deep laugh, you love to smile, and you are growing like a weed. I love you more than you know. I hope that when you are 18, a senior ready for the real world, you will let me give you a zillion kisses all over your face, hug you like it's my last time, and keep that mischievous twinkle in those deep blue eyes. Nothing good usually comes from that twinkle, but it melts my heart any way.

I love you, sweet boy.

-15 Degrees

January 15, 2009 was the last time I ever talked to my dad.

That day also happened to be one of the coldest days on record for the state of Iowa. Thanks to the frigid wind chills of more than -40 degrees, all metro schools canceled for the day. I was busy preparing a master work (think choir and orchestra performing together) to teach students in a short two months and was swamped lesson planning, sending emails to our hired orchestra players, and emailing back and forth with the band director as to what rehearsals would entail.

If anyone know anything about me, it's that I hate interruptions. I don't let students use the bathroom in my classes, I hate it when my office phone rings in the middle of a meeting, and when I am deep in my work, like I was that day, interruptions are possibly one of my biggest annoyances.

So when my dad called me three times that day, I ignored every one. And finally annoyed by the fact that he would not stop, answered on the fourth call.

I didn't try to mask my annoyance and my answers to his every day questions were clipped. So I didn't hide my exasperated sigh when he told me to throw a cup of hot water outside and watch it freeze in mid-air.

At the time, that was one of the dumbest, most juvenile things I had ever heard. I didn't have time to do that. I only had time to work on building a music program, and putting my name in the record books with a master work, written by Paul McCartney and never before performed in the United States no less, in my second year of teaching.

So I never threw the water to watch it freeze in mid-air. And now this "polar vortex" that will give us a high of -4 and low of -15 on Monday with wind chills in the -40s, the act of throwing a cup of hot water to watch it freeze in mid-air is staring directly into my soul.

If I do it, if I complete this "juvenile task," it will be like closing a huge chapter on my guilt that I have carried these past 5 years. But on the other hand, the second I do it, it will be like ripping open a huge wound. I cry every time I think about doing it, even when there isn't a "polar vortex" in the weather forecast. I'm crying now.

It's crazy what this weather pattern is doing to my heart, and even crazier that after 5 years, I have managed to experience just about everything without my dad. First days back to school after his death, Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, the birth of my son. But it's this, this simple two-second task that is reducing me to a puddle of conflicting emotion. At any given moment, I don't know exactly how I feel about it.

But I do know how I feel about that last conversation with my dad. When I think of my dad's death, I don't quite remember what I said to him when he was lying on the emergency room table. I don't quite remember who was at his wake. I don't quite remember whose faces I looked into while reading his eulogy. So many times I wish I could go back in time and have that conversation over again. But I can't. There is nothing I can do to change that.

Except maybe throw some hot water outside to watch it freeze in mid-air.

19 Months!

Somehow, after two tumbles down the stairs, you have made it to 19 months. Without any broken bones, black eyes, or major injuries.

Tonight, we watched you run around the house in circles until it was time to go to bed. And even then, you still had a ton of energy. But when you crash, you crash, which is awesome.

We have been dealing with a cold for almost a month, and a cough for much longer. It's gotten better, then gotten worse, then gotten better. We had our first stint with the stomach flu, which was.... interesting. But mom-mode kicked in and even at 3 a.m., I didn't mind getting back up to wash more sheets.

You are TALKING so much! My goodness! We're starting to hear more and more "full" sentences. When I asked you where the Christmas Tree remote was (to turn on our lights) you said, "I don't know" clear as day! Then all day, I asked you where the remote was (you like to run around with it and then drop it somewhere), you kept saying "I don't know!" It's adorable and we love hearing it! You ask "Where'd it go?" if you throw something behind the couch, or Kinnick makes a beeline out of the room because he sees you're in it! You said to me, "I want up" tonight with yours arms raised so I would lift you and set you on the counter. And of course, you say, "lights off" or "lights on" depending on if they're off or on! And you talk talk talk all the time, but I can hardly understand what you are saying. It's amazing to me all the things that I can identify that come out of your mouth though! We can have actual conversations and you're starting to really understand everything we say.

You are such a helper, oh my goodness. If I didn't know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, I would say it's slightly on the annoying side. You help me unload the dishwasher and put all the silverware and pots away. You watch as we fill up your humidifier every night and then carry it yourself to your room. I don't know how your little body carries something that weighs more than a carton of milk, but you manage. You get your milk out the fridge for me to fill your sippy cup and you put it back. You always, and I am talking 99% of the time, put your toys, or whatever else you've gotten out, away. And if you don't, it's because I forgot to ask you to do it.

We braved putting ornaments on the tree, even though everyone told us not to with a toddler, and taught you to "touch nice." And you do, if you do at all. Tonight, you took a present out from under the tree and I asked you to put it back. You did, after you showed it to me, in the exact same spot. Maybe I should stop, because like I said, I probably shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. It's just so amazing to me.

I am also going to quickly mention that you throw things away. In the trash. And i'ts awesome. Anything I ask you to throw away, you do, with glee. Usually with some sort of giggle and/or squeal. It's awesome. Diapers, kleenexes, wrappers, whatever. When we ask you to give us something, you do. It's amazing. I hope the terrible twos NEVER hit!

I took you to the doctor a couple of weeks ago, and you were approximately 34 inches and 32 pounds with your little snow boots on. So it will be interesting to see what you actually are next week at your appointment. You're a big boy, I can tell you that much!

You love love love riding in the car! On Sunday, when it was snowing all day and your daddy was snowblowing the driveway, we took his big truck out to fill up with gas and make and emergency diaper wipes/diaper run (oops!) And we just drove around, through the falling snow, somehow through the Culver's drive-thru to grab a peanut butter malt (for Baby Engels, of course), which we drove around and shared. It was an awesome moment and I loved it!

That's all. Each age seems to be my favorite age, but you are really starting to blossom into my little pal. My little man, who loves to cuddle with his mama, play with his daddy, read books, eat dinner like a big boy off a plate and with silverware and god forbid we give you anything different than what we eat.

I hate dropping you off at daycare in the mornings, but I love picking you up. Always the highlight of my day. :) I love you little man.

18 Months!

Holy moses, you are a year and a half old! How and when did that happen?

You are turning into such a little boy. You LOVE horseplay with your dad, and I think you get embarrassed when your mom tries it. You come to me more for hugs and love.

You've stopped yanking on Kinnick's tail, and instead, have been trying to give him hugs. I don't know what might be more painful for him. You love giving hugs, and think it's the greatest thing ever.

You love car rides! But only short ones. Since it's started turning colder, I pick you up from the sitter's on my way home, even though it's only three houses down. But boy, do you love sitting in the front seat, buckled in, while I putt-putt down the road three houses and back into our driveway. Most likely very illegal, but really, what's the harm? My dad took me driving in Grandma's corn field in an old beat up pick up truck. Now THAT was an adventure!

You are saying SO MANY words! I cannot believe it! You say just about everything you do or pick up. You'll pick up a stick if we walk home from the babysitter's house, and you say the word. You can say shoes, light, all gone, all done, all ready, bye mom, bye dad, and my favorite: "shit!" which is your word for sit. You can say chair, uh-oh, cat and dog. It's amazing all the words that come out of your mouth at any given time, including the one's I don't remember off the top of my head!

You are starting to run, everywhere. We have three shoes for you. Crocs with holes, which are too cold for this weather, brown leather shoes, which are dressier, and snow boots. I'm thinking we need to get you some real running shoes soon!

I keep trying to get you to understand that there is  baby in my belly, but then you just keep going after my belly button when I do. I am excited for you to meet your brother or sister and I think it will be a moment I will never forget when you do!

So, little man, happy year and a half. It's been a whirlwind. And to think it's already been two years since we made the announcement we were pregnant with YOU.

I love you little man, thank you for making my life so complete!

17 months!

Right now, you are in the basement throwing a colossal fit. You have been for the past 5 minutes. I figure that you'll probably be down there for another 5 minutes or so, so I've got time for your 17 month stats.

You are the king of colossal temper tantrums. I'm not sure exactly when, or how, that happened, as I pride myself (and Eric) in being one-time parents. You throw your food on the floor, it's a time-out. You don't want to do something we need to do (because, let's face it, it's not about what we want to do anymore), we won't put up with it. Maybe this is the terrible two's that we have heard so much about?

(I just checked on you, you're lying at the foot of the stairs, on your back, arms and legs spread, crying. You're fine.)

You had a double ear infection earlier this week, which was hell on your dad and I. I finally took you to the doctor on Wednesday and you weighed 29 pounds and were 32" tall! Long and lean, holy smokes.

Everything with four legs is a "dog" and whenever we announce it's "BATH TIME!" you happily run after us, up the stairs, saying "bath! bath! bath!" Although it sounds more like "bat! bat! bat!" If there's one thing you absolutely love, it's baths.

(Just checked again, you're standing at the foot of the stairs, head on the second tread, still crying. I tried to coax you upstairs, but you ran away and out of sight. Not sure why I'm the bad guy here...)

You are starting to get very picky about your food. You don't like eating things two nights in a row, and it seems as though your palate is getting smaller. But good lord you LOVE french fries. It must have been all the salty foods I ingested when I was pregnant with you.

(You've  made your way up the stairs, but you're still crying. You're relentless.)

Outside is the place to be, which terrifies me to think what will happen when the cold weather hits and you can no longer play outside. You love pushing your wagon, rather than riding in it, and you're very particular about where it needs to go. You are very good at sticking to the sidewalks, which I think I can attribute to daycare (thanks Christy)! But you aren't so good at riding in the wagon. It's an anomaly, but I just go with it.

(You have finally made it to me, stopped crying, and want to type on the keyboard. So, because I love you, I'm going to let you. The last time you touched daddy's computer, you turned the screen 90 degrees adn we had a heck of a time getting it back, but hopefully this time, it won't be so bad... below will be your scribblings.)

You are growing so quickly - out of the 12 month, into the 18 month, and for some of the clothes, out of the 18 month and into the 2T. I bought you a little Columbia fleece, size 2T and it fits you perfect! Which worries me because I want it to fit you next spring! But your dad already ripped the tags off and it's got a nice sprinkling of applesauce (as does the interior of my car) on it, so I guess taking it back is out of the question.

You're starting to really understand the world around you and how things work. Like when I leave you in the basement to throw your temper tantrum, I really am not going to come and get you. You have to make your way upstairs because I am not going to raise a whiner or a fit-thrower. I have seen too many people too many times put up with it, and I will not.

So with your whining, that is happening right now, I'm going to put you to bed, as I think you're tired, run-down from the cold you've developed and getting rid of your ear infection, and quite frankly, I'm exhausted as well. I love you little man, and thank you for making me realize I have a wealth of patience!


My Temper Tantrum, by James Thomas Engels.
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