Friday, November 22, 2013

Perfect timing.

I'm trying to potty-train D, sort of.  We all know I can be incredibly lazy, so the effort is kind of off and on.  When I remember, I ask him if he has to go potty.  He always says yes.  He'll answer almost any question with yes.  I couldn't find my keys earlier, and I asked D if he knew where they were.  He said yes.  I was like: sweet, the kid comes through.  I asked him where they were.  His answer: he threw them.  Excellent.  And completely not true because he was strapped into his car seat with no access to the keys.  My point being that he loves saying yes to people.  So when I ask him if he has to go potty, he always says yes, and he has yet to actually use the potty.  As a result, I'm a bit lazier than I probably should be in following through.  Tonight, I remembered to ask him shortly after dinner figuring that he'd just had an entire cup of milk, so he must have to go soon.  Of course he said yes.  Then he wanted to get naked for his time on the potty.  Fine with me.  Thirty minutes passed with us sitting in the bathroom.  We talked silly, and he spent a disturbing amount of time licking my palm, but he didn't use the potty.  I figured thirty minutes was a really good attempt, so I got him down and went to get a clean diaper.  He followed me naked into the living room and started digging through his toy bin.  When I turned around from the diaper stash, he was staring at the floor as he peed on it.  It was amazing timing.  I couldn't help but laugh and be glad he didn't pee on the rug.  I praised him for peeing and encouraged him to go on the potty next time.  I'm not sure if it's a step in the right direction or if I'm just truly terrible at potty-training.  There had to be something I was terrible at, right?  At least Eli is coming home soon, so he can take over evening potty duty.  About that...

Eli is planning to be home the first week of December.  He has to get his visa changed before the movers can come for our stuff, and he has to be there while they pack because only about half of the things in the India apartment are ours.  Once he gets his visa and an appointment with the movers, he can buy his ticket home.  For those tuning in late, Eli got the new position at his work that he'd been pushing for.  It comes with a raise and the need to come back to Milwaukee early, so the contract is ending in early December instead of mid-February.  He's still planning to fly back to India for his big 40th birthday trek, and the apartment will still be available and furnished for everyone.  He's also going to leave his 50 pounds of meat there in the freezer for that trip.  I can't help but be grateful because we'd need to buy a second freezer to store his meat.  Not something you say every day about your husband. 

Monday, November 18, 2013

Oh, those were blueberries...

Seriously guys, I'm not feeding D blueberries again until he's potty-trained.  We had blueberries with dinner last night, and when I went to change his diaper this morning, I thought for a second that he'd eaten moldy black crayons or something.  That's all I'm going to say on that topic because it was horrifying and I want to stop thinking about it now. 

In other news, we're trying to get a good Christmas pic of D for cards this year.  Eli still has the good camera in India, so I'm left with few options.  We haven't found a winner yet, but I'm going to keep trying with my crappy camera phone.  I've included a little preview below.

He's so sassy.

I asked him to smile.  This is what he did.

He really liked the bells.

This is his pouty face when I asked for the little stocking back.

This is my favorite, but it's blurry thanks to my awesome phone camera.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Option number 2 is duct tape.

I've had a very trying morning.  Let me start by saying that I'm not a morning person to begin with unless there's the promise of tasty foods I don't normally get.  That will put me in a good mood pretty quickly, but under normal circumstances, I'd rather just lay in bed for a while.  D does not lay in bed.  He gets up and messes with stuff in his room.  Since the tea tree oil fiasco, henceforth known at The Incident, I've put some quiet toys in his room for when he gets up before me.  Which is every day.  Instead of playing with them, he dumps them on the floor then rearranges his drawers.  Honestly, I'm happy to put things back where they go in the morning since it's fairly harmless.  He must have been bored with the drawers today.  Let's go back a little further.  Before D was born, my parents shipped me a box full of old Disney puzzles.  They thought, rightly so it seems, that D would like to play with them some day.  Being a Dizgeek myself, I also enjoyed the thought of the puzzles.  I stacked them in the drawer under the crib.  About the time that I lowered the crib to the bottom setting, the drawer gave up it's last attempt at clinging to usefulness.  It wouldn't move and kept falling apart, so I just took it off the track and left it on the floor pushed against the back wall under the crib.  The puzzles were still there.  Today, D got up before dawn and yelled until I came to change his poopy diaper (I can't wait until we get him fully potty-trained).  I put him back in bed because in this house we sleep until the sun comes up.  About an hour later, I checked the camera to find that something had apparently exploded in D's room.  I rushed upstairs to see bits of broken drawer buried under thousands of puzzle pieces and eight boxes.  D was standing by the gate grinning at me.  Then he threw a puzzle piece at my head.  It was at this point that I gave up on good parenting and gave in to the pregnancy rage.  I admit it: I yelled at my two-year-old son.  There was a huge mix of emotions churning inside of me, and for a minute, I had to stay outside the gate while D continued to grin at me to stop myself from yelling more.  Deep breaths.  At least I'd only yelled one short comment to the tune of "What the hell, crazy man?!"  I entered the disaster zone and began cleanup.  At first, D tried to help, but after dropping a piece of drawer on my foot for a second time, I banished him to sitting on his bed.  Nicely.  I said it nicely.  With clenched teeth.  It took a while to get the floor cleaned, and I think I can salvage the puzzles after a bit of concentrated effort separating the pieces, but my real concern was that I'm having trouble controlling my anger.  I'm not afraid that I'm going to do anything physically, but I find myself yelling in the angry mom voice too often for my peace of mind.  D doesn't understand that those puzzles were important to me too or that I'm going to spend a lot of time trying to put them back to rights.  All he gets is that he had a hell of a time scattering them all over his room.  Yelling at him serves no purpose and teaches him that it's okay to yell at people.  I started examining my behavior a few days ago when D screamed at me for not getting off the couch fast enough for his tastes.  It wasn't just high-pitched shrieking; he was yelling at me.  I'm trying to curb my tendency to yell, but it's proving very difficult when I can go from completely calm to pregnant psycho in less than a second.  I got to test my new patience a few minutes later when we went into my room so I could change.  I was still in my pajamas, and D followed me into my room while I grabbed clothes.  As my back was turned, he grabbed a Lakefront Brewery token from Eli's bedside table and dropped it into the vent on the humidifier.  I turned back just in time to see it disappear.  I spent the next fifteen minutes alternating between actively trying not to yell and prying up the vent to retrieve the token.  I managed to get it out without breaking anything, and I did it without raising my voice.  I spoke very quietly, and D seemed unsure what to make of it.  That's going to be my new plan.  When I'm angry, I will speak quietly and remove myself from the situation (after locking D on the other side of the living room gate).  I hope that I remember my new plan of action because I have no intention of raising a hellion who screams at people.  There's nothing like your child repeating your bad habits to spur you into action changing them.

I finally uploaded a bunch of pictures, so enjoy.

Playing with the new ball he scammed me out of at the park.

That's a lion riding a bear just before going to the zoo.

Soft dragon.
"Helping" me cook by stealing my potholders.

D's first D&D campaign.  He does not look convinced that the plan was well thought-through.

Oh look, something shiny!  Also, fabulous heels.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Happy First of November!

I love Halloween.  If you ask me in October what my favorite holiday is, I'll say Halloween.  If you ask me November first, I'll say Christmas.  I read that one of the Milwaukee AM stations is already playing holiday music.  I haven't checked yet, but just the possibility got me all excited.  I love everything about the holidays, and hell yes, I lump Thanksgiving and Christmas into one huge holiday season.  That's why I'd love the holiday music to start on November first.  Not the round the clock stuff yet, I can wait for the day after Thanksgiving for that, but the occasional song to whet our holiday appetites.  I realize this is not a popular opinion, but I don't care.  It makes me happy, and today I need a little happy. 

I woke up this morning to find D standing amidst a pile of stuff from the little bins on top of his dresser.  This is not a new occurrence.  Once he was confident that he was allowed to leave his toddler bed, he likes to get up in the mornings and turn off his sound machine, his humidifier, and hit the buttons on his Twilight Turtle a couple hundred times.  The last few mornings, he's also managed to reach the two smaller bins on his dresser and has helpfully emptied them out on the other side of his door gate (his door is at the top of the stairs, so we close the door and put a gate up when he's sleeping).  He's known how to open the door for a while, so it's really only the gate keeping him in his room.  He also likes to sit and chat with the cat who will roll around on the other side of the gate taunting him.  I only made it halfway up the stairs this morning before I realized something was terribly wrong.  The stairs reeked.  There was the usual pile of stuff at the landing outside D's door, but he was rubbing his face and saying "uh oh."  I quickly realized that I'd left a small bottle of tea tree oil in the bottom of the larger bin that had gotten covered with papers and baby junk.  I tried it when we were still cloth diapering in an attempt to minimize the poop smell in his room.  I preferred the smell of the poop over the smell of the oil, so it was forgotten.  Until today.  D had gotten the bottle open and dumped the entire thing on his carpet just inside the door.  Then he covered it up with the papers and baby junk.  I was most concerned by the fact that he also reeked of tea tree oil, and he kept rubbing his face by his mouth.  I immediately rinsed his mouth out and washed his hands.  His pjs went directly into the washing machine along with his blankies and the shirt I was wearing that he managed to smear with oil.  I Googled tea tree oil to find out that it's apparently poisonous.  Here's where I win the mom of the year award.  Instead of taking him to the hospital or calling poison control, I gave him a cup of milk and asked him if he drank any of the smelly stuff.  He didn't answer the question, but I wasn't really expecting an answer.  He was showing no symptoms of ingesting the oil, and I couldn't smell it on his breath. Also, the stain on the carpet was pretty big, and there was oil all over the other stuff he'd thrown around with it.  I had no idea when he'd actually started playing with it, so I decided to wait and see.  I got him changed, gave him breakfast, and scrubbed the carpet with OxyClean for an hour and a half.  Nothing.  He was his normal self.  He didn't seem to like the smell of it, so it's really unlikely he would have tried to taste it since he's picky about the way stuff smells.  Thank goodness.  It scared the crap out of me though, and in between scrubbings, I made sure to go through everything in his room for more hazardous materials.  So much for baby-proofing.  On the plus side, he hasn't fallen down the stairs since we switched to a toddler bed, so we did something right.  I got the smell out of his blankies and surprisingly out of most of the carpet, but his pjs are still soaking in preparation for their third washing.  I may have to just throw those out.  As a reward, I got to spend the morning with a crazy bad headache and nausea from the intense smell.  I opened all the windows upstairs to air out the house too, so it feels like a crisp fall day here in my living room.  We're going grocery shopping when D gets up from his nap, and after this morning, I may clean them out of discounted candy.  There's nothing like eating away stress and anxiety to make you feel sick later when the hyper-active baby is practicing karate on your insides.  Fun times, bring on the holiday music.