Tag Archives: humor

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy, siblings

Once… Twice… Three Times with Baby

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I like to think that by blogging, I’m able to impart a little motherly wisdom, provide a little entertainment, and encourage some weary women out there with a little good news. I think this post does all three of those things pretty well… So here’s a post about pregnancies – and how they’re all different.

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When you’re pregnant with your first baby, no matter how you feel, you probably have the opportunity to rest a lot. With your first, you can lounge around in your free time, sleep a lot, rest, and exploit your spouse to please cook the thing you’re craving and take out the trash because your pregnant nose is in overdrive and you can’t stand the smell. You always know what week you’re on (16 weeks, 2 days, 3 hours and 15 minutes) and you have the due date marked in all your friends’ and family members’ calendars. You have a perfect nursery, complete with outfits for every type of weather and every size up to 3T. You’ve looked at day cares and preschools, read parenting books and blogs, and chosen the perfect name for a successful human. You are way ahead of the game, due purely to excitement.

When you’re pregnant with your second baby, there is no resting unless your kid is resting (so basically none). There is no requesting special meals, because the meals revolve around the current kid, not you. If he takes out the trash, you’re probably doing the dishes or changing a diaper, anyway. You try to eat as healthily as possible (fruit, non-sugary cereal, etc) since you’re trying to feed your kid pretty healthy, too. You keep on doing your thing as much as possible, sneaking naps if you can, and going to bed a little earlier, if your spouse is helping with laundry.

With your third, all bets are pretty much off. You’re going and bopping and feeding and playing and cleaning and laundering and driving to and from and yonder. You’re eating a lot of mac and cheese, because that’s what’s easy to satisfy everyone’s palates. You’re already swimming in diapers and wipes, so no need to buy a bunch of those in preparation. You’ve got every type of hand-me-downs, so the kid is set on clothes. You feel like you want to buy the third kid something new, but you just don’t need anything and you don’t have extra cash really to throw at unnecessary baby items. You also better have your maternity clothes unpacked at 8 weeks, because you’ll need them.

But you know what will be the same every time?  You’ll still smile when you feel the baby move in your womb. You will be excited to pick the name, however far along you are. You will know love that you didn’t know you had room for in your heart. You will begin praying for that little being and the rest of his or her life.

mommyhood, parenting fails

Mom Fail – The Parrot Edition

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A couple of weeks ago, I took the kids to the children’s museum here in taken with my friend Rochelle and her kids. Her daughter Emery is 3 months older than EK and her son Dean is two months younger than J, so we can clearly see lots of play dates and slumber parties together in our future. Anyway, EK always takes a few minutes to warm up to the museum (we don’t go often enough) so once she got going, she was off. Emery was off in a hundred other directions, so naturally Rochelle and I didn’t spend too much time sitting and chatting. I was wearing J, Rochelle was strolling Dean, and those poor boys didn’t have time to chill.

A brief moment of togetherness, on the troll bridge.
A brief moment of togetherness, on the troll bridge.

Finally, the girls were getting a bit cranky (all four of us!) and needed some lunch, followed by naps all around. We decided on Moe’s, since it’s loud and fast and low-key, not to mention fun food for us all to eat. We packed the kiddos and unpacked the kiddos and ushered the kiddos through the line. Rochelle sandwiched the girls into a booth, and I situated myself in between the boys in their carseat carriers. EK and Emery were like popcorn – one was always popping up, turning around, watching the poor souls who also chose Moe’s as their lunch spot. Rochelle and I were losing our voices saying, “Sit down! Eat your lunch! Sit down! Drink your juice! Sit down! Get off the floor! Sit down! Wipe your mouth!” Talk about a broken record. I don’t feel like we were yelling, but we weren’t whispering. We weren’t being mean, but we were being firm.

After most of the quesadillas were eaten and “juices” (water with a splash of lemonade, of course) were drunk, Emery decided to stand up once more, turn around, and check out what was going on behind her. Rochelle and I had all but given up on finishing lunch sitting nicely, so we didn’t say much. EK, however, had finally gotten the point. She looked up at Emery, and firmly (rudely?) said, “SIT! DOWN! NOW!” Rochelle and I looked at each other… and tried very hard not to laugh. From the mouths of our babes, we hear what we sound like. Not that I needed a reminder that my little girl is a parrot, but I sure got one.

How hard is it, sometimes, to control your tone of voice? I know that when I need to tell EK something several times, my tone escalates each time. I almost always start softly and politely. But after I’ve told/asked several times, I begin to lose my patience. Especially if time or safety or politeness to others is a factor, I get firm and sometimes loud very quickly. I wouldn’t say overall that I’m a yeller, but I do raise the volume a little if the first and second (and third) time I say something doesn’t bring forth the desired response.

That day at Moe’s was a prime example of what she remembered about telling someone to do something. Since then, I have been more conscious of my tone and delivery of directions. I try to have a little more patience and grace. And yes, folks, it’s difficult. I have never claimed to be the most patient person in the world. I find myself hollering things like, “Get your shoes!” across the house as we prepare to go somewhere. If I catch her holding my iPad with one hand, I might shout something like, “Put that down, NOW!” a little less nicely than I could. But I’m improving, and doing the best I can. I’ve always been a loud lady, so teaching my daughter to reign her loudness is at best a little difficult for me. At least I’m honest, right?

Have you had that moment where your parrot child repeats something you’ve said, in that perfect tone of voice, and surprises you? Or even disappoints you?

mommyhood, parenting fails

Parenting Plight #1: Poop-splosions

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This morning, Hubby and I took the babes to Toys R Us. We needed a new exersaucer (or something similar) for J to practice standing and stepping in. Why don’t we just use the one we had with EK? She’s only two; it can’t be that old. Glad you asked, friend. In fact, it wasn’t that old, and J did use it. Both my kids loved it. EK would stand next to it and show J how to make sounds on all the little attachments.

One day, EK decided that since J wasn’t standing in it right that minute, she’d like to give it a try, for old times sake. So she climbed in and acted like a baby for a while. I was at work, Hubby was working on his laptop and J was playing on the floor. Since she seemed happy in there, Hubby just let her hang out. (Disclaimer: I would have done the same thing.) After a few minutes of happy playing, Hubby noticed an odor. And some squishing. And EK rubbing her hands all over the top of the toy. And you can guess what was happening (I really gave it away in the title). Weak stomachs, stop here. It’s going to get graphic.
She had pooped, wiggled around a little too much and gotten it out of the diaper, and then stuck her hands down in it to see what was going on down there. And then chaos really ensued. Because she couldn’t get out, she was grinding the poop into the bottom of the toy, which just so happened to be a piano keyboard (aka lots of cracks for the poop to get into). The fabric seat was covered, and all the toy attachments on top were covered too. It’s a miracle that she couldn’t get out, so the mess was (semi) contained. Hubby ended up throwing away her clothes and the toy, and giving her and himself a bath. It’s really too bad- we loved that thing.
the babes loving the (descriptively named) Fisher-Price Superstar Step 'N Play Piano
the babes loving the (descriptively named) Fisher-Price Superstar Step ‘N Play Piano

So there’s the story of why we needed to get a new exersaucer. Do you have any similar stories?

(By the way, we ended up with a Bright Start Cute Critters Activity Jumper, and we love it!)

mommyhood

Morning Cuteness

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Here’s a little background information on EK to make this story a little cuter.

As soon as she started sleeping through the night, she started sleeping late. I mean… really late. There were times she’d sleep till 10:30am. It didn’t even ruin her nap for her to do it! She’s always been a great sleeper. This (calendar) year, she has gotten a brother, moved to a big girl bed, and stopped sleeping so late. The “spring forward” really screwed us big time.  What had been happening was she’d wake up around 7 or 7:30, roll around a little, play with her animals a little, and fall back asleep. I was always gone for work, and Hubby sleeps hard and sleeps late, so he wouldn’t hear her if she wasn’t making a LOT of noise.

When she moved to a big girl bed (it’ll take a whole post to explain how that went down), at first she didn’t even realize she could get out by herself.  She did pretty much the same thing she had done in her crib. But soon, I knew she’d figure it out. She typically gets up, comes and gets in the bed with Hubby and me, rolls around, brings in 17 books and reads them, plays on our phones, and MAYBE goes back to sleep for a few minutes. If it’s before 6:45 or so, I put her back in her bed and tell her to try to get back to sleep. Often, she is content to lay quietly with us and snuggle till we get up. Sometimes, she’s running around the house, screaming like a banshee, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeat! Foooooooooood! Juuuuuuuuuuuuice!” I don’t know where she gets her food-related impatience from. *bats eyes*

This morning, J got up a little earlier than usual, about 7. He typically sleeps till 8. His sleeping hasn’t been as good this past week, because he’s rolling to his belly, and then can’t get back over to his back. So I went in, changed his diaper, and hunkered down in the (La-Z-Boy) nursing chair with my coffee and a book to nurse him back to sleep. Usually if he’s up early, the first time he eats he’ll snooze a little longer. After a few peaceful minutes, I hear EK’s door open. Pitter patter… Pitter patter. J’s door opens; a tiny face peeks in. Cue her face-wide grin that I can’t get enough of.

She tiptoes over to us, points, and says, “Baby!” because it’s the only thing she will call J.  She scratches her chest (I think she gets it from Hubby), looks down, realizes her pajamas were actually just a t-shirt last night, and looks up at me in surprise.  This is where it gets really cute: she throws up her index finger, in the “I have an idea!” way, says “Pants!” and runs out of the room. She comes back in with a pair of pants she’s been dying to wear that are still too big (long-waisted, skinny gal that my daughter is).

Trying to distract her from the pants so I can hide them again, I tell EK to bring me a diaper and wipes so I can freshen her up. J is too distracted now to nurse anyway – he’s a typical lazy guy. She brings me these items, and also the pants (how does she keep getting them?!) so I go ahead and change her diaper and put on the giant pants. Then I have an idea: What if I can find a makeshift belt? She’d be so happy! The first thing I think of is ribbon – no way, packed up in the basement, and it only comes out at Christmas. Then I spot a Mardi Gras-style beaded necklace on the floor. I grab it, and wind it through the loops on the too-big, turquoise jeans with anchors, because my daughter is super trendy. Immediately, I see on her face (“Belt! Belt!”) that I’ve made her morning.  She hasn’t even asked me for juice yet, so I know I’ve been blowing her mind with this belt thing. Honestly, it didn’t even work (there’s still a huge gap), but she’s got shiny beads attached to her favorite pants she’s never been able to wear. So what does she do? Go running and yelling into our bedroom to show a snoozing Hubby her new belt.

This, folks, is the reason I wanted to stay home with my kids, at least for a little while, at least while they’re tiny.  When I have to be at school at 7:30 and I have late sleepers, I miss these cute morning antics.  Mornings are the most easygoing hours for most kids, and I’ve been so sad to miss what happens. Hubby is great about sending me sweet photos of morning snuggles, playtime, or silly breakfast happenings. But I am so blessed that we have decided I can stay home and experience them for myself.  A teacher friend of mind gave me the best advice I’ve heard yet: “You’ll never regret staying home with those babies.  Even if you have to eat pork and beans for dinner every night, you’ll never regret a minute.” So yes. I’m doing it.  And I’m a happy mama.

She obviously isn't wearing "the pants" but this captures her fashionista personality perfectly.
She obviously isn’t wearing “the pants” but this captures her fashionista personality perfectly.
mommyhood, parenting fails

Mom Fail #294838

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It’s high time I posted some #momfail humor!  First, a little background info… I have an amazing mother-in-law, Anne.  My hubby and I are blessed with great in-laws that get along with us and get along together. (It makes holidays and birthdays MUCH easier that way.)

Anyway, one afternoon Anne came over to our house to help us get our laundry under control. (Laundry is our #1 parenting plight. In a family of 4 clotheshorses, we are constantly drowning in either dirty or clean-but-not-yet-folded clothes.) Anne and I were sitting in the floor of EK’s bedroom, folding her clothes and stuffing them into drawers.  Hubby was cleaning the kitchen, with J in his bouncy seat in the floor.  EK was running around the house, bringing toys from one room into another and back again.  Anne was being her sweet, encouraging self, and telling me what a good job parenting Hubby and I were doing (oh, just wait).  She was saying how compassionate and obedient EK is, and all sorts of other sweet things about Hubby and me.

After a few very productive minutes of chatting and folding, I realize it’s too quiet.  Parents of toddlers, I’m sure you’re all cringing right now because you know what that means.  All of a sudden, I hear a huge thud – like a noggin hitting the floor – and EK cries out.  I rush to the hallway, and see her lying on the floor… the wet floor.  Now, my first thought is a spilled glass of water; Hubby and I are sometimes bad about leaving our water glasses within reach.  I scoop her up to my chest and comfort her, ask her where she hurts, etc.  Upon inspection, I realize that there are little pieces of wet, white stuff on her clothes and on the floor.  Then I follow the trail… to the bathroom… and to the toilet.  And then I gasp.  I manage to maintain calm (sort of).  I assess the toilet situation as way too full to flush (the better part of a roll of toilet paper was inside), so I call on Hubby to take care of the bathroom.  I take off EK’s clothes.  I take off my clothes (because I’ve been clutching her sniffling self to my chest, and am now covered in toilet water).  I look down the hallway, and see a trail of water and mushy toilet paper leading to the kitchen.  Where in the kitchen, you ask? Why, with my then 3-month-old son in his bouncy seat, of course.  Hubby says, “I saw her playing with him, but didn’t realize she was wet!”  Codswallop, in my opinion (forgive me that HP reference).  After we are showered, floors are cleaned, and naps are in progress, I have a good laugh with Anne.  There I had been, glowing with pride as my success as mother is praised, as my toddler played in the toilet, trailed the water all over the house, and then slipped in it.  It felt like an epic #momfail, but then again, everyone is fine and we have a hilarious story to tell.

I want to hear about your most recent #momfail too!