Ever wonder if Cinderella was exaggerating her tale of woe because she was a teenager. Before we go our merry way villianizing stepmothers and portraying sea witches as bitches – have we taken a moment to look at things from another’s perspective?
It’s hard to be a teenager, especially in a culture of mean girl subtle bullying. I have a vague memory of being a teenage girl. I knew everything; my parents were morons. Or were they… Continue reading
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Last night I went to dinner with a friend from out of town. (It was Clinton Fitch, aka my TechMom Tuesday editor. This is not entirely relevant to the story, but an excellent opportunity for a plug that I shan’t hesitate to take.)
We discussed mobile trends and the directions of varying operating systems well past sunset. (Surprise! I am actually TechMom in real life too.) At about a quarter to nine, we bid one another adieu – Clinton headed off to retrieve his rental from somewhere in the nearby parking garage, while I headed clear across the mall’s acreage to where I’d found an open spot to park my car, Zippy, hours before when the mall was still open and abuzz with retail patrons. Continue reading
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Do you want to build a snowman to help people?
Can you follow the train of thought of a preschooler?
Watch out – there are a lot of twists and turns, along with seemingly impossible leaps, ahead.
We were en route to school, well – the car was pointed in the general direction of pre-K, we weren’t actually moving due to some pretty intense traffic. (Also known as Monday.) Continue reading
Destroy wouldn’t poop in the potty. We were pretty sure it wasn’t a gastrointestinal issue. So by the time we’d reached the dosage of two full adult servings of Miralax per day, it was time to take a stand.
There is no doubt my son is stubborn beyond his years. But so is his mother – who also boasts 30 years additional practice in the art.
The decision was made to keep the boy home from school. He would stay home and experience the full effects of Miralax. There would be no TV, no park dates, no fun – not until poop plopped into the potty.
Being 4, he fought against physics. He would not poop. Would. Not. Poop. It was then that Jon and I learned Destroy’s issues were purely a control issue. He would hold it, hold it, then hold it some more. Ultimately it would no longer be a decision (two adult doses of stool-softening powder will do that to a 38-pounder) and the Pompeii of poops would rock the afternoon.
CODE BROWN! CODE BROWN!
The weekend arrived. I told Search to get ready to go. One of his preschool girlfriends was having a birthday party. I don’t think Destroy actually thought we’d leave him behind.
We did.
Search and I had a blast.
There was a pony.
We decided to continue our one-on-one date – Search needed new shoes, so we headed to the mall where the ever-growing little man picked out light up Spiderman shoes. We then decided to stop by the Disney Store.
(Yes, I’m a horrible mother who was trying to play brothers against one another.)
Search got a new toy train. “Mommy, I think Destroy needs a helicopter.” (Cue being shamed by my 4-year-old. He is a better person than I.)
He is also smarter than me. Within in minutes of walking in the door, his brother high on the rush of birthday cake and pony boasts, Destroy announced, “I don’t poop in my pants now. I poop in the potty and I need my helicopter.”
Two days later we were still accident free! Prizes and celebrations abounded.
Four days later we were still accident free.
GrammaJ: Did he poop today?
Me: No.
GrammaJ: He pooped his pants?
Me: No.
GrammaJ: So he’s still using the potty?
Me: No.
On the fifth day we experienced a full-blown proper muppet meltdown. He’d been ornery all day at school, even starting a few fights. I wasn’t surprised. His tummy probably hurt. I strongly encouraged him to spend some time on the potty.
This was not a well-received statement.
As he flailed about, crocodile tears flowing, fists clenched, feet stomping, he finally shouted a semi-coherent statement.
“I NEED A COOKIE!!!”
(This kid was so full of shit.)
Alas, due to his behavior, there was no consumption of cookies that evening.
Morning didn’t go any better. However, during the fight to clothe the kid, he discovered swim goggles purchased for our upcoming beach trip. These were much more exciting than the prospect of pants.
“Poop first,” I demanded through clenched teeth.
Destroy decided he wanted those goggles. Bowels were cleared. We were creating a monster. He needs a bribe to poop every time?
It was a reversal of monkey’s flinging poo. Instead he apparently planned to hold it until Mom broke down and made with the bribe. But then again, we were saving a lot of money on the underwear that we no longer threw away daily…
Apparently he didn’t get it all out with that morning bribe though. When I picked him up, he’d started poop #2 in his pants and was trying to convince his teacher he still deserved a prize from the poop chest. (This is a thing.)
He didn’t get a prize. He wouldn’t be allowed to watch his coveted Disney Jr. Octonauts. And he didn’t take his nap; he’d participated in a preschool dance party instead. Because his tummy hurt, he refused to eat his snack.
All effects combined, my constipated hypoglycemic kid was about to stage the prequel to the hunger games. MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN MY FAVOR.
Just before bath time, I heard a blood curdling banshee wail. “I got all wet!” (This was problematic since we hadn’t yet started bath.)
He’d raced to the bathroom to pee. Then decided he needed to poop. He spun around to sit his little tushy down.
He fell into the potty.
But he pooped!
I think I won.
Destroy scampered toward me the moment I walked in the door. “Mommy! Let’s play music!” Because, when you’re three, you dance to the music in your own head – but sometimes it’s fun to rock out to the DJ spinning at the Lego table, too.
Don’t we all wish our life had a soundtrack? Continue reading
What do you do with two stir-crazy three-year-olds on a January Saturday? When it’s 70 degrees in the Bay Area, you take them to the zoo.
(All the while singing the “Love You Forever” because sometimes you think your toddler belongs in the zoo.) Continue reading
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You think I’m about to tell you a story about over-working young children, forcing the youth of the house to bear the burden of unwanted chores. However, with the exception of the poor abused laundry machine forced to scrub the soiled garments of twins who refuse to potty train, this is a tale of the Walt Disney Classic. Continue reading
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We live in California; our golden state is known for it’s glorious sunshine and lack of rain. Except it totally does rain here.
(Born and raised in Southern California I grew accustomed to panicked news reports about The Drought, interspersed by STORM WATCH news reports of the occasional flash flood. Then I moved to Northern California just in time for El Nino and spent the winter trying to convince my college roommate that we should forgo our studies to build an ark despite the location of our dorm on the 11th floor of the building.) Continue reading
There really is nothing like the comfort of curling up under a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night. (Granted, I live in California, so those cold winter nights may still be somewhat of a novelty.)
However, the tiny warriors in our local NICU are on the verge of experiencing a blanket shortage. I am asking for your help. Continue reading
Jon and I headed out on the town Saturday night to take in dinner and a show. Because what could possibly be more romantic than a date night with Mythbusters. (Admit it – you’d be wondering if they’d blow something up on stage too.)
Are you familiar with the show? Mythbusters is a reality show that has been airing on the Discovery Channel for 11 years. Using actual science, the hosts explore popular myths (hence the name) to test the plausibility of rumors, myths, movie scenes, adages, Internet videos and news stories. The science is real, educational, entertaining and they pretty much always blow something up. Continue reading
