ER Selfie
I hope you all enjoyed the holiday weekend. We celebrated with baby boy’s first concussion.
You’re thinking I already shared this post. Wrong kid. And no stairs this time. Continue reading
Pre-K (Chaos in the Classroom)
When I first dropped the muppets off in the toddler room of their preschool, Destroy still couldn’t walk. Search couldn’t (or more likely wouldn’t) talk. They’ve had three years of amazing teachers since. (And now they won’t sit still or shut up.)
Today I dropped them off for their first day of pre-K. Continue reading
Care and Consideration of Loveies
“Elle is my friend,” is a common refrain heard around of my house.
Elle is an elephant – well, a stuffed elephant atop a soft grey baby blanket. She also goes by the name “Shaking Elle” due to the embedded rattle in her head. Basically she’s a newborn comfort blanket in animal form.
A well-loved lovey. Continue reading
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TechMom Tuesday: OneDay at a Time
I write a monthly column over at AlliOSNews. It’s a techie site – extolling all the goodies and gunpowder on the Apple OS. (SHINY TOY!) I’m TechMom. And these are my stories on how technology is really used. This is what you must deal with, as I am a Silicon Valley nerd by day.
I’m well aware it’s Thursday. TechMom Tuesday is typically published the first Tuesday of every month, and this month I’m sharing a cool new app I discovered at the BlogHer 14 conference. I reserve the right to rant more or less as the technical goings-on, well…go on. Continue reading
In Judgment of Other Parents
I think I’m supposed to begin this post with the cliché disclaimer of, “I don’t like to judge…” or “Far be it from me to comment on another parent…” but that’s exactly what I plan to do. So. Gird your loins – I’m about to get judgey up in here. Continue reading
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Must Love Dogs
Dogs make me happy.
The unconditional love. The uncontained excitement so intense they can’t help but piddle on the kitchen rug because you’ve been gone for forever (or 20 minutes). The cuddles. The pathetic puppy dog eyes because oh my god they’re starving and will absolutely die if you don’t share that loaf of French bread. The exasperated sighs echoing your own frustrations when you share your concerns. And the overwhelming affection – each in their own way. Continue reading
Paradise Point and the Jet Ski
Let me immediately disabuse you of the notion that we spent the past week in actual paradise: everyone knows that’s in Hawaii. We were in San Diego.
A week of fun in the California sun – complete with muppets and grandparents. (So I totally stole away to the spa.) Continue reading
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Wordless Wednesday: The Summer Bucket List
Summer vacation is upon us.
I think Search wants to go on a boat…
Search’s Summer Bucket List:
- Paint an easter basket
- Drive the boat
- Swim in Grand Papa’s pool
- Go on a boat
Destroy’s Summer Bucket List:
- Play airplanes
- Bake cake
- Play trucks
- Go to school
- Play with the train table
So You Want to Publish a Book?
Nope.
Last week I attended BlogHer 14 – the 10th annual conference for women in the blogosphere (and anyone else interested in attending). Continue reading
Pooping for Prizes
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.