Breakdown

I am having a fight with Tommy. Right now. You are in the midst of it. Like most kids, Tommy hits a breaking point in the afternoon when he desperately needs a nap, but in his desperation, defiantly struggles against one. That is what he is doing right now.

This tantrum, coupled with the potty training and his recent return to very violent behavior (hitting me, throwing large toys at the wall) is driving me to insanity. I am becoming a mother I hate today. A ferocious, yelling monster.

Sigh.

How am I going to make it through 3 more months of pregnancy? Somebody get me some Valium.

Proof

I did it! I did it! I kept something alive other than my children. I bought this then-flowering plant at Bachman's about two months ago to put myself in the mood for spring. The flowers died, and I was sure I'd destined another plant to the same fate. I kept watering it, though, and just today, I noticed my plant is sprouting new leaves! Maybe my green thumb has finally kicked in. Does anyone know of houseplants that are easy to grow?

The (Late) Great Lamb Cake

My mom passed the lamb cake mold onto me. On Easters past, Grandma worked with precision on the cake, much as she had on many a Christmas gingerbread house. The cake mold weighs about 10 pounds, a cast-iron beast.

Inside the mold were Grandma's handwritten instructions. Slather the mold in Crisco, then Pam, then flour to ensure that the lamb cake comes out in one piece. I did get that far, but the lamb turned out to be a bit anorexic when my carrot cake recipe failed to rise appropriately.

While quite frightening in appearance, the lamb cake tasted great. Here's the fabulous carrot cake recipe.

Common Potty Sense

When I was a freshman in college, an old service elevator took me 3 floors down from my dorm room to a vending machine that sold my favorite treat: peanut-butter M & Ms. I'm pretty sure I ate a bag of those with each paper I wrote. How did I pull that off and still come out significantly lighter at the end of the year?

Our Easter weekend included many treats, and what bunny is foolish enough not to supply her favorite? While I indulged, I failed to recognize that peanut butter M & M eggs, juice boxes, and fresh fruit were too much for a potty-training young man to handle. Tommy is paying for my foolishness.

Aside from the loose stools, Tommy's training is going GREAT! We took him to the mall on Saturday, and he thought it was fabulous that the family bathrooms had "Tommy-sized" potties just for him. He only had one accident all day. Today, we've already hit the gym and he used their bathrooms twice. I am so proud of him!

Hopefully, the rest of our week will go just as smoothly. John is off to NYC for business, so I am pulling long days on the homefront.

The Pull-Up Chronicle?

Don't worry. I haven't given up. I'm writing that sentence as much for myself as for you. Yesterday was one of those days when a Mom isn't sure to forge ahead or turn back. But I'm a stubborn mule, so onward we go.

We had only four accidents yesterday, but they were brutal affairs, two of which required serious bath scrub-downs. Tommy is actually growing more and more defiant towards the potty training as the potty novelty has worn off.

Today, we are going to back off (haha) and only make him use the potty every 45 minutes. Even though you may think everyone can hold it that long, the thought terrifies me. I'm looking at the timer, and there are 37 minutes left to go.

In other news, I'm working on the great lamb cake. More to follow.

The Potty Chronicle: Day Three

Not for the Faint of Heart

There are several parenting "opportunities" for which no amount of bleach is really sufficient. One of these is the Rotavirus, and another, as you may have guessed, is potty training. I feel I must speak for millions when I say that after this morning's poop incident, I shudder at the thought of what slipped underneath my fingernails.

By and large, though, I am incredibly proud of Tommy today. He had just two morning accidents, and he went to the bathroom 3 times when we were at a friend's Easter Egg Hunt this morning. I can tell he's proud of himself, too. To see your child achieve something and believe in himself evokes a feeling of joy unattainable by yourself.

Of course, when I say Tommy went to the bathroom, I still mean I'm reminding him---and forcing him---to sit on the toilet every 30-40 minutes. Buy hey, we've got to get there somehow.

We're on our way.

The Potty Chronicle: Day Two

One of the most important things about being a stay-at-home-mom (or any at-home employee, I think) is remembering to shower. This simple rule is exceedingly easy to break, especially when you have a no-shower tendency or when you know you're going to be cleaning up urine all day long.

Yesterday was one of those days for me. I think I put on a good face for Tommy, because the many internet articles I read suggested that a positive attitude was a vital factor in potty training. By the end of the day (and the time of my posting), though, I'd had my fill of you-know-what.

This morning, I turned over a new leaf and decided to be positive for myself, not just for Tommy. I actually showered and put on a cute preggo shirt. I cleaned up several poopy Thomas the Tank engine incidents, and a few pee ones. Overall, though, Tommy has been doing OK. We even had to babysit his cousins for a few hours, and he had only one accident off-site.

I'm not sure when I can expect to leave the house for any real amount of time, and I certainly wouldn't call our experiment yet "successful." Stay tuned.

The Potty Chronicle: Day One

As with most things in parenting, potty training did not begin on schedule or as I expected. Yesterday after his nap, Tommy awoke and wet his diaper. He wanted to take it off immediately, and put on his new Spiderman underwear. I took this as a good sign.

We spent the rest of the evening throwing a Potty Party every time Tommy went on his potty; you will never know just how cute your husband can be until he puts all his enthusiasm into a Potty ChaCha.

Then, today. I knew the Potty Boot Camp would be difficult, and my assumption to that end was correct. So far, we've gone through at least a half dozen pair of underoos and sweatpants. We've had poop and pee incidents on carpet, wood, and beds. We've put stickers on charts and counted out reward M&Ms. Tommy has yet to announce on his own when the pee is coming, but a beeper on the kitchen microwave sounds out a Potty Time alert every 30 minutes.

Perhaps the most frustrating part of this is how hard it is to quickly get Tommy to the bathroom, and yet keep Lucy out. Lucy enthusiastically trots behind us, ready to sneak her hand into the potty or onto the plunger...whatever the grossest available accessory. This afternoon, we took our only venture into the outer world to get the mail, and returned just in time for a potty attempt. Tommy stood waiting for my help next to the toilet, and in just the moment it took me to sweep Lucy out of the way, urine soaked him from the waist down. "I pooooooooooped again," he cried, confused.

I started up the washing machine and cursed John for not having his cell phone turned on, again.

This Means (Potty) War

Tommy has been ready to potty train forever. The kid knows when he goes, and he now uses the coveted potty training as yet another opportunity to defy me. If you think I'm exaggerating, you haven't been hanging out with Tommy very much.

I am working hard to remain positive about this. Tommy is not yet three, and for some reason, our society views non-potty trained two-year-olds as (generally) OK. I do not. I can not handle three children in diapers, and I will not tolerate these shenanigans much longer.

The plan is this: D-Day happens on Thursday, Apr. 3, coinciding with Week of the Letter L and Lucy's (late) one-year shots. Tommy has already selected Spiderman and Thomas the Tank Engine underoos at Target. I will return to the big box for more toy bribes.

I don't know how I will handle the period between D-Day and victory, but Tommy will emerge a potty trained man.

Stay tuned for more info.

The Flood Zone

Yesterday, my sister send me a listing for a house in the small, old "downtown" near us. The house looked amazing! Built in the 1880s, it had 4 bedrooms and a wealth of space...plus, the great and enviable asset we don't have...a yard!

John and I have gone around and around about the advantages and disadvantages of new vs. old homes. Who can deny that an older home with beautiful built-ins and woodwork has more character? This particular house even has a large, historic carriage house as one of its charming features.

On the flip side, though, I can't ignore how accustomed I have become to modern home amenities. We don't even own a dresser because our closet is big enough for twice as many clothes as we have. I appreciate a bathroom vanity that we can actually use to hold our toiletries. Most importantly, I love our laundry room located just 6 to 10 feet from all the upstairs bedrooms.

It's hard to weigh all these things. If I had my choice, I'd look for a beautiful, renovated old house that has all the modern conveniences already added. Unfortunately, this is a tall order on our budget. Sigh.

Anyway, I'm excited to take a look at the house tonight. I just hope we aren't blinded by its charm.

Motherly

Is it wrong to compare your daughter's staggering efforts at walking to those of a drunken soldier?

Big House with No Little People

About once every sixth months, I get a day or an afternoon off from parenting and my house is quiet. If you are single or don't have kids yet, it's hard to appreciate the quiet. Perhaps, like I used to, you fill you home with noise from the television or radio. With two small kids, though, the quiet is simple blessing that I relish.

I'm not really sure what to do with myself today. I'm fighting the urge to get cleaning done, because I could do that anytime. I just finished reading Love in the Time of Cholera and Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim this week, so maybe it's time to visit the library and browse for something new. Tommy would probably appreciate it if I looked for his current favorites, Boom Chicka Rock and Trashy Town.

What do people DO when their day isn't exhausted just filling the needs of a 2 year old, a 1 year old, and a growing baby in utero? I don't even remember. Sometimes I want to scream because it seems no matter how hard I try, I can't keep Cheerios off our floor for more than a half hour.

And then, I have a moment like this: all I want is my Lucy Goose to snuggle, and my Tommy to pull off our couch cushions and build a fort.

Things I'm Thankful For: The Ring

Some rings are less expensive and more useful than others. My husband recently brought a ring into our lives that has saved my sanity over the past month.

Tommy had stumbled onto the habit of obsessively slamming our baby stair gates against the walls and railings of the staircase. Loud and damaging, this activity had me ready to become violent.

John took a simple teething ring and latched the gate to our stairs. No sound can be made, and through some miracle, Tommy hasn't thought to pry it off.

Little Orange Fish

Three kids, one grandma, and two sisters head downtown from the exurbs to see a little orange fish and his dad. Who knew this adventure could be so complete?

Tommy was enamored with Nemo on Ice. I didn't expect much from this kids' show, but once again, Disney's mastery of a child's mind stunned me. The lights and costumes were fabulous. The acting and skating were sub-par, but in a kids' world, these are trivial. The sharks were terrifying, the octopus was cuddly. Tommy didn't blink for two straight hours.

I wish John could've been there, because maybe this show would've given him more insight into why Disney World is the Greatest Place on Earth. To me, it seems there could be no dispute. To a man accustomed to "nature" on family vacations, however, there seems to be some debate. Either way, we will take the kids there. I won't have completed my mission as a mother if we do not.

Don't get me wrong. I'm all about teaching my kids actual history and seeings the great wonders of America. But Disney IS one of the great wonders of America!!

Anyway, back to yesterday.

I bought the kids two giant slurpee cups of lemonade, and they spent most of the event happily sucking away. When Nemo had waved goodbye, I erroneously handed Tommy my cell phone FOR A SPLIT SECOND, and he managed to immediately drop it into a crevice at the bottom of our temporary stadium seating. Thankfully, Grandma bought us 7th row seats, so I could see my magenta phone glimmering 15 feet below.

I hauled my pregnant belly to the ground floor, and proceeded to crawl underneath the stadium seating to retrieve the phone. It was sticky (with lemonade? with puke? with pee?) and claustrophobia-inducing and my thoughts very quickly turned to rats. I grabbed the phone and scuttled back out to the Disney lighting only to discover that in the commotion, my scarf had also fallen down under. Aaaack! Goodbye, scarf. Facing rat world for you is not worth it.

Post event, we naturally lost ourselves trying to find the correct parking garage. Claudia declined a trip to the bathroom, and thought I knew this was stubbornness on her part, I did not intervene. Finally, we found the car.

Just as Claudia's booster seat belt was snapped into place, her pleas began, "Moooooooom.....I have to gooooo....tooooo....the.....baaaaathroooom....RIGHT NOW." Sarah tried to convince her otherwise, but the emergency was clear. She hopped out of the car, and in a Seinfeld-esque move, stripped off her polka dot tights and peed into a drain in the parking garage. Thankfully, no policemen were nearby.

I Spy with my Little Eye

Two children playing.
Tommy saying, "Now it's your turn, Wuce!!"
[Watches her put the ball into the ball poppin' toy]
"Good job, Wuce!!!! Now it's my turn."

And over, and over, and over again.

Lucy Walking!

The Sea Witch

Sometimes kids identify unexpectedly---and embarrassingly---with strangers. Like when we were at Target yesterday.

We passed a woman in the soda aisle. She was rather large, with even larger, unwieldy dark hair.


Two feet after we passed her...."Mom!!!! Is that Ursula?!?!!!"

And then, as I was pushing the cart faster and faster into the next aisle, "Mom....is that Ursula??? Mom!!! Mom!!!"


Maybe she didn't know her Disney characters.

Rules of Engagement: Bar Soap

1. We don’t run out of bar soap at our house. Or toilet paper. If either of these things appear to be lacking, check the linen closet (general overflow) or underneath the bathroom counter. On my side.
2. A bar of soap is not used up until it is at least the size of a votive candle. I feel that is generous. A bar of soap does not need to be replaced when has only done half of its job.
3. If you are the person who “needs” another bar of soap, then you are also the person responsible for eliminating the soap remnants from the soap tray.

Isn’t this basic logic? Do I need to start a remedial soap training course?

Lucy Louise

On Her First Birthday

One year old. The house is decorated, and quiet. We have pink streamers and pink balloons, and yes, I am the kind of mom who actually had those just sitting around the house from some other project. I bought pastel napkins with little baby ducks on them. I guess I still want her to be my baby.



And she is. She is a squealing, gurgling delight. She is feisty and curious and has as much energy as Tom. But she also has a dainty streak, a snuggly streak, a difference that makes her Lucy Lu and my special little girl.

We bought her a shopping cart for the occasion. What better way for a little girl to be like Mama? She is truly obsessed with it. She laughs maniacally as she begins to push it, faster and faster on the wood floors. The wheels on this thing spin uncontrollably like the real carts at Costco. Then, she spies a wall ahead. She breaks down even before she hits the wall, because she knows a wall ahead means her journey will be halted. This process went on and on for about an hour this morning until finally, tired and exhausted and wondering why we have so many walls and so little room for shopping, she crumpled into a pile of tears. Tommy ran to console her and held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth and whispering, "It's okay, Wuce. It's okay."



There are more days now that I feel ready to be a mother of three. Still, the diapers pile up at an enormous pace and the grocery store seems an obstacle for the insane. But the kids are snuggly and peaceful and beautiful when they aren't fighting. Lucy pages through her fuzzy chick book, and Tommy asks, "What letter does lobby man start with?" It is rewarding...and exhausting.

Then again, what full time job worth keeping isn't?