Just pee already!

It would probably be more enjoyable for all of us to have a sweet update on baby Jedi, how he is deliciously fat, smiley and fitting in with our family very well.

Buuuuuuut.....instead I'm going to tell you about how Gizmo makes me see red, and how the toddler stage sucks, and how I hate it so hard.

Gizmo has been potty training for a few weeks now. Really, he is pretty good at it. I haven't had to do hardly anything. That's the best kind of potty training. (Moms, my advice to you is: if you try potty training, and you are putting in more work than your toddler, then stop and try again in a few more weeks or months!)

We only very rarely have accidents. Of course, I am still doing diapers when we go out for over an hour. And, of course, the only accidents we do have include a horrible mess to clean up (like peeing on my couch, or pants full of crap).

Recently, we started putting Gizmo to bed in his underwear. It started as a mistake. But when he woke up dry and was able to get to the potty to pee, we figured we'd try it more often.

But this morning, Gizmo refused to pee on the potty. I let it slide for a bit, and went ahead and served him breakfast. After his food was gone, I asked him again to go potty. He refused. So I told him that he would be grounded from the tv until he peed in the potty. But rather than deciding it would be a good idea to pee in the potty afterall, he decided to throw a tantrum.

Now, I am not a patient mother. I am a big time yeller. And when a toddler flops all over me in an irrational meltdown, especially while I'm trying to nurse a baby, I get especially ragey.

After about 20 minutes, I had almost completely lost my cool. I was able to lay Jedi down (asleep, by some miracle) and I carried Gizmo to the bathroom, stripped his pants off, and perched him on the toilet seat. (His preferred method of eliminating is squatted with his feet on the seat.) And still, he refused to pee. He climbed down, and I put him back. I told him that he could not leave the bathroom until he peed.

We fought and fought and apparently I was losing, because the kid wasn't peeing in the potty. So I started yelling.

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST PEE ALREADY!?! IF YOU WANT TO GO PLAY! ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS PEE IN THE POTTY!!! WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!?!?"

And then, over an hour after waking up and holding it in, Gizmo lost control of his bladder. But he wasn't all the way on the toilet. And he still didn't want to be peeing. So he got pee everywhere. The floor, the toilet seat, his legs, his feet, his shirt, and his hands...grasping himself in a desperate attempt to defy the command to pee in the potty.

And then I lost it all over again, because there is no rational reason for that mess to have happened, and I was going to have to clean it all up. Toddlers are always irrational.

Placenta

It's been nearly four weeks since Jedi was born. My goodness, how the time flies. Of course, it helps when there is a lot going on: family in town, Mother's Day celebrations, more family in town, Bug's birthday party (that we had two weeks late), Memorial day, and Hubby's birthday (today).

May is SUCH a busy month. But, I am proud to say that I have (mostly) kept it together! I have only cried a couple of times since the birth. Which is a significant improvement on how often I cried during pregnancy! I think I can give credit to my placenta capsules (lovingly called 'placenta pills' in our home). Yep, I am officially one of -those- ladies that eats her placenta! And now I'm going to tell you how I prepared it (sparing you pictures, because I didn't get any. You're welcome.)

After the cord was cut, I briefly examined the placenta for completeness, then it was plopped into a Tupperware with a lid and put into the fridge. I wasn't sure when I would get to it, so it needed to be treated like any other piece of meat for planned consumption. I was able to prepare the placenta that evening. I prepared the placenta using the raw method, rather than the Traditional Chinese medicine method, which steams the placenta prior to dehydrating.

First, I placed the placenta in a colander in the sink. I then spent at least fifteen minutes rinsing the dang thing. I removed as many blood clots as I could (many of them were between the size of a large grape and a small lime). On the baby side, the placenta is smooth (covered by the membranes) and has beautiful, visible veins that form what is referred to as the 'tree of life'. I used a sharp knife to pierce the veins, so I could remove the clotted blood from those as well.

I then moved the placenta to a cutting board and used the sharp knife to cut away the majority of the membranes and the cord. Then I sliced the placenta into very thin strips (like jerky). This was somewhat difficult, as the placenta is both tough and jiggly. The maternal side is lumpy looking, rough yet soft and somewhat gritty (I believe this depends on age and calcification of the placenta). It compares more to organ meat than muscle meat...which makes perfect sense, because the placenta is an organ, not a muscle! I learned after the fact that it would have been easier to use meat scissors to do all that work. However, I was able to slice the placenta completely using the knife, and place all the strips on trays of our dehydrator.

Once the strips were all placed, I turned on the dehydrator and let it do its work. The house smelled like very warm (cooking?) birth, which didn't bother me, and I heard no complaints from anyone else.

Approximately 12 hours later, the placenta was thoroughly dry. (I determined 'thoroughly dry' as being dry enough to snap a slice in half easily.) The slices looked like petrified smears of meconium, but I went ahead and put them in our blender. We have a cheap blender, but pulsing it on grate worked well...although it was noisy, it only took a few minutes. I assume a fancy food processor would do an even better job!

Once I had my placenta turned into a powder, I was able to fill my capsules. I had ordered an encapsulator that would fill 24 capsules at one time, and size 00 capsules. Separate capsules, place into appropriate side of encapsulator, pour in placenta dust, scrape to fill, tamp down, add more powder, level off, push on capsule tops, push out completed capsules. Repeat.

I was able to fill 124 capsules. I didn't have a glass jar or anything fancy to store them in, so I put them in a freezer ziplock bag. I also actually keep them in the freezer. Although this isn't necessary (unless you plan to preserve the capsules for use years down the road), I figured it wouldn't hurt. Especially since I am only storing mine in a plastic bag!

For the first couple of days, I didn't know how many capsules a day I should have been taking. After a bit more research, I found that for my size capsules, I should be taking about 6 a day for the first two weeks, then as many as I wanted thereafter. I recently have moved to 4 a day (and they will only last me one more week at that rate...sad face).

I feel like they have been very beneficial. The Hubs has even said he wants me to encapsulate and consume the placenta with all future births! (And he was really squeamish about the whole thing before!) My mood has definitely been improved...especially noticeable has been the lack of breakdowns and tears typically present in the early postpartum period. I also feel like my engorgement didn't last as long as it has before. And I believe my lochia has been tapering off more quickly.

Of course, this is my personal, anecdotal experience. I would encourage you to do your own research on placentophagy. At first I thought it was weird. Then I though I might like to try it. Then I thought I would do it, but keep it on the down low, so as to not squick anyone out. But now, I have actually done it, and I'll talk about it with no reservations! So there you go!

I ate my placenta (well, almost...I still have a few capsules left!) and I am proud of it!

The socks

This past Saturday, the Hubs took Bug and Gizmo out shopping. I spent a glorious morning cleaning the kitchen....and sitting on the couch browsing Facebook on my tablet. When they got home, Hubby made lunch, and then took the kids out AGAIN (despite the drizzly, cold day) to have an "adventure" out in the trees behind our house. Apparently, they looked at holes in the ground and built a lean-to.

When all the boys were back in the house, Gizmo took off his shoes and socks. He is really good at putting his shoes away, and his socks into the dirty laundry hamper (which is through the kitchen, in the laundry room).

Off Gizmo went to take care of his socks, when all the sudden I hear him crying dramatically in the kitchen. He came into the living room and settled onto my lap in a ball of tears.

"What's wrong!!!???" I asked, "Are you hurt?"

"No...."

"What happened? Why are you crying? Are you sad about something?"

"Yeah. My socks!" it was kind of hard to understand what he was saying, through all the tears.

"You're sad?"

"My socks"

"Your socks??"

"Yeah!" more crying.

"What happened to your socks? Did you put them in the laundry?"

"No. My socks in garbage!" even more crying. Really, very dramatic, very sad crying.

"You threw your socks in the garbage?" I'm beginning to understand, and I am amused.

"Yeeeeah." another breakdown of tears.

So Gizmo had accidentally put his socks in the garbage, instead of the laundry. And he was very upset about it. Especially since the trash had been taken out recently and he couldn't reach the socks on his own, to move them to the laundry. I'm sorry to say I burst out laughing once I understood what happened. Poor kid.

I tried to console Gizmo as I asked Hubby to retrieve the socks. Once Gizmo knew that his socks had been safely moved to their proper location, he calmed down pretty quickly. And with a sniffly, quivering voice, he said "thank you" to his father, for saving his socks.

Gizmo Update

Ok....second post within the week. I'm getting better already!

I felt like I should do a series of updates on each of the boys, since my last post was all about me and my whiny pregnancies. (Seriously, the hubs told me that I focused on everything that has been going wrong. To which I say, "Well, duh! That's what happens when you combine depression with the first half of pregnancy, and put it all on a blog with the word 'lamentations' in the title!" But, I'll try to do a little better now.)

I chose to do Gizmo first, because he's going to be the poor, poor middle child soon.

Gizmo turned 2 back in August. OOOOH.....two! He reminds me a lot of Bug at the same age, mainly because he also likes to run around naked-butt. You'd think potty training would be going better. Oh well. He often strips himself. Then he will actually put his clothes in the hamper...diaper and all, sometimes. Just a couple of weeks ago, I missed a diaper while sorting the clothes for washing, and it ended up in the machine. Of course, I had no idea until I opened the lid and found that all my clothes had magically turned into high-tech water crystals! Luckily, my parents were in town visiting, and my mom was able to help me laugh about the whole thing. I'm sure that if I had found that mess alone, I would have crumpled into a sobbing heap of misery on the floor. We shook out all the clothes, making a huge mess. Put all the clothes in the dryer. Ran an empty wash cycle to clear out the washing machine. Cleaned up the floor (made jokes about diaper filling snowballs). Then I'm pretty sure we had hot chocolate. And I didn't rewash that load....it came out of the dryer looking just fine. I'm a lazy mom.

Gizmo's vocabulary has just exploded in the past few months! He and Bug always have adorable little conversations....you know, before they end up fighting. Gizmo is constantly asking "Why, Mommy?" Which turns into the verbal equivalent of a Matryoshka doll, with me answering each "why" and having him again ask "why".

"Please get off the counter, Gizmo."
"Why, Mommy?"
"Because, you always grab a knife when you're up there, and I don't want you to have a knife!"
"Why, Mommy?"
"Because, knives are sharp. And I don't want you to hurt yourself."
"Why, Mommy?"
"Because, I love you, and it would make me sad to see you get hurt. [Plus, I don't want to have to take care of any ridiculously self-inflicted wounds!]"
"Why, Mommy?"
"Ugh....just....BECAUSE!"
"Why, Mommy?"

Obviously, he is just helping me develop my logic skills.

Blessedly, Gizmo has started sleeping in his own bed throughout the whole night! We had a few setbacks, with the usual winter illnesses running their courses. And he always seems to wake up between 6-7am, which stinks. But at least he isn't digging his feet into my thighs anymore. And I'm getting a nice break before sharing with the new baby in a few months!

Gizmo is pretty physical, stubborn, and has a bit of a violent streak. I don't know whether to blame that on him being a redhead...or him being a toddler. Gizmo hits, pinches, scratches, bites, spits and kicks. Bug wasn't nearly so bad. Of course, Bug didn't have to compete with a brother, so that might have something to do with it. It's distressing, as a parent, though! I hope he doesn't act as poorly during disagreements in the church nursery as he does at home!

Regardless of his bad behavior, Gizmo can be a pretty cool kid! He plays video games better than I do. And he likes to sing and dance. Plus, he is sooo daggone cute. And he definitely uses that to his advantage...the little stinker!

Accident

Bug has been potty trained for nearly a year now. It has been a wonderful, marvelous year that could probably make me sing. It definitely took time, but once he was ready, he transitioned from diapers to underwear very quickly and very well. Ok, he actually went from being "naked-butt" all day to underwear, but I was totally fine with that!

But, last week, he had an accident.

I'm pretty sure that our move has broken something in these little kids of mine. They don't seem to be happy very often anymore. And I mostly feel a desperate need to be able to keep them from crying for at least 3 hours, with low success. It's very discouraging at the best of times, and downright unbearable at the worst. (Like this morning, when I crawled out of bed at 4am for a shower, just to get away from an inconsolable Gizmo for 10 minutes.)

Anyway, Bug had been being goofy and defiant, as he so often is, playing around in the living room. I reminded him several times that he should probably go use the potty. He didn't listen to me.

Eventually, he ran past me in the kitchen, into the little half bathroom. Then I heard liquid hitting the floor, and an exclamation from Bug, "Uh-oh! Oh, no!"

I ran into the bathroom, to see Bug standing there, shorts still all the way up, right in front of the toilet. Peeing. And peeing. And peeing. And still, he just stood there, like there was nothing he could do. I told him to pull his pants down and pee in the toilet. (Probably not in the nicest way, considering most of my patience wore out last week, probably a day or two before the accident, and hasn't been replenished yet.)

He did pull down his shorts and peed a microscopic amount of urine into the toilet bowl. Of course, it's amazing that there was anything left. I'm pretty sure the kid had to have been full of pee up to his eyeballs. I can't imagine how such a large amount of pee fit inside such a little guy!

I helped him strip off his soiled clothes, and I gave him a wad of paper towels to help clean up the mess. Then I realized that there was way more mess than a wad of paper towels could handle, so I sent him away for a bath, and I tackled the ocean on the bathroom floor. After mopping and wiping and soaking and spraying, our little bathroom was (mostly) clean again.

Most people say that you should wait to potty train until you have time to do it without any interference from major life changes, so you don't have to worry about the trainee regressing. I'm beginning to think that it really doesn't matter. Because apparently, even supposedly well potty trained little boys will have accidents after a major life change.

Intestinal Revenge

Warning: This may be one of my less enjoyable posts...especially if you are reading during a meal! 

A couple weeks ago, I enjoyed some pepper jack cheese. I -love- pepper jack cheese. Unfortunately, whenever I eat jalapenos, Gizmo get the most disgustingly stinky poop and farts known to all mankind. It's actually quite amazing how a little bit of pepper can affect him so strongly...though my milk.

Nonetheless, I ate my burger with pepper jack, and Gizmo enjoyed a raisin, a green olive, and some bread.

Then, just over a day later, I sent my hubby on an airplane to Texas for a week...and Gizmo started having diarrhea. Stinky, mucous-y, blood-tinged diarrhea. I was near tears thinking about spending any amount of time with a sick kid and an absent husband.

But I was unsure what was really going on in those little baby intestines. Jalapenos had never caused such a bad reaction before. Could it have been the raisin? The olive? Those were new food items for Gizmo. Maybe it was a triple whammy of pepper/raisin/olive distress. Or was it a virus? Whatever it was, I hoped it would quickly get better. And as I Googled, I got more worried about the presence of blood in my kiddo's dipe...and I got more prepared to make a visit to the pediatrician.

But the runs kept coming. And then came the diaper rash on top of it. We were not a happy mother/baby pair.

Then, after a couple days of pain-in-the-butt diaper changes, out came a hard, solid....popcorn kernel! And all the sudden, the symptoms started clearing up. After going though nearly a whole (and huge, I might add) box of diapers, and a whole tube of Desitin...things started to get better.

I can easily blame my husband for this horribly exhausting mishap....because I am never the one that makes the popcorn in our home (and I -very, very rarely- eat it). But, that lucky guy, he didn't have to change a single one of those wretched diapers.

*Whine whine whine* "Nose" *Whine*

Thursday: Bad day. Bad, bad day. Potty training horror. Mommy kidnapped by Grandma Marty (thank goodness!)

Friday: A better day. Productive. Laundry, dishes, vacuuming. Mommy felt good.

Saturday: Wanted to go get the Hubs a new suit....fever struck Bug. Potty training on hold until further notice. Suit buying postponed. Mommy kind of enjoying the feverish Bug (he's quiet, still and cuddly).

Sunday: Mommy and Gizmo up early to get to church and print church programs. Bug still feverish. Daddy stays home. Mommy and baby come home after sacrament. Mommy and Gizmo go to family baptism. Everyone being lazy. Daddy goes to church meeting at 7pm. Bug still feverish.

Monday: Bug still feverish. Daddy now feverish, too. Mommy and Gizmo are fine. Mommy taking care of everyone.

Tuesday: Bug no longer feverish. Daddy still feverish. Bug very cranky. And whiney. Daddy sleeping all day. Daddy running to the toilet to yak it up (luckily, Bug escaped that part of the sickies that have been here).

Wednesday: Daddy's fever broke. Daddy coughing and enduring sinus related torture. Bug also enduring sinus related torture. Bug whining, "nose" every waking minute. Mommy enduring cabin fever and whining related torture. Gizmo enduring "I rolled over to my tummy and for some reason can't figure out how to get back over...but I'm still healthy as a horse" torture.

What a week it has been so far.

The Bib

I am officially one of THOSE mothers. You know, the one whose kid is always wearing a bib. Always. To catch the drool.

I don't know how I ended up with such a drooly baby. Bug wasn't very drooly. I mean, of course he did drool some. But, Gizmo. Oh, Gizmo. He is like the never ending faucet of saliva. A bubbling (literally) brook of slobber (which Bug finds hilarious, "Bubbles!")

My sister reminded me that Bug was a summer baby, and therefore, it didn't matter as much for his shirt to be perpetually full of spit. But, Gizmo, as a winter baby, needs to keep dry to keep warm. It's true. And the bib is actually AMAZING for keeping him dry and warm. I guess that's why moms do it. Whenever I saw a baby with a bib on (and no food being fed to him), I used to think, "Poor kid...being stuck in a bib all the time. That can't be fun." Now I think, :"Look at my super cute and stylin' baby and his rockin' bib that's keeping him dry!"

Gizmo is about 31/2 months old, and I can already see little white spots on his bottom gums, indicating that those first teeth aren't too far off. When did he decide to grow up so quickly?

Oh, and just a related note: Gizmo's teething has, along with the increase in drool, increased all other mucous. Which means his nose is stuffy. Which means he isn't nursing as well. Which means Mommy gets engorged (and leaks all over the bed at night). Which means Mommy pumps 10oz. in 20mins. in the morning (while still leaving milk to satisfy the little guy's hunger). Amazing!

The Pregnant Woman, Her Tender Parts...and The Bathroom

"And remember, this is for posterity. So, please be honest."

This post has been classified TMI. Continue reading at your own risk.

When you get pregnant, there are a lot of things people just happen to "forget" to tell you. Of course, a lot of people don't want to ruin the euphoria of pregnancy, so they just smile and nod at you...knowing that you'll figure it out eventually. This is especially true for the relationship with a pregnant woman, her tender parts and her bathroom. Sure, every book about pregnancy mentions the increased need to pee, but that's only the beginning.

When I was pregnant with Bug, I didn't really have an increased need to pee. I had good, strong pelvic floor muscles, and a confidant bladder. When I was pregnant with Bug, I didn't have too many issues with anything dealing with the bathroom. Whether from the luck of craving bran flakes for breakfast every morning, or the joys of a first pregnancy, I may never know. 

I have not had such blessings with this pregnancy. I seem to have acquired a bladder the size of a pin head. And I have acquired hemorrhoids the size of Alaska. Those vulgar varicosities haven't even had the decency to stay where they "belong". My whole nether region is swollen and tender. It was tolerable until about week 30...when I sat in a car for 16 hours to Texas and 16 hours back. Not recommended. Since then, the baby keeps growing and pressing, my blood volume keeps increasing, and my veins keep begging for mercy. Sleeping with an ice pack in my crotch has never been such a welcoming idea!

With all the horrors that are going on within and around my digestive system (i.e., heartburn, alternating constipation/diarrhea, urinary incontinence, varicose veins) I've learned a few important items to keep well stocked during pregnancy. 

Antacids. I chew Tums like candy. I have a feeling they aren't the most effective way to eliminate heartburn, but I'm a cheap-o...and I have a HUGE bottle of the little buggers. So, they'll have to do.

Toilet paper. Lots of it. More than you think. A nice, soft, thick, -very- absorbent kind. Let's face it, you're going to be dabbing at your lady bits a lot throughout your pregnancy. It helps to have a toilet paper that you like. Increased usage, paired with things getting messy, you'll thank yourself for getting the good stuff. And getting lots of it! Also, make sure you always have a couple rolls stashed in the bathroom. There is nothing fun about stumbling into the bathroom at 4am and tinkling just enough to necessitate even a meager two squares, to find an empty roll....because you used the last two squares at 3am. (Not to mention, you are relieved you even made it to the bathroom on time. After laying in bed for six minutes, deciding that "yes" you do have to go. Then figuring out a way to get out of bed...I'm not sure how I ever manage it. Then taking three minutes to go three steps, because you have to test out if your hips will even hold your weight. Yes, you are relieved that you made it to the toilet, but you are -seriously- considering just sleeping in adult diapers and letting go without having to even roll over!)

Relaxation techniques. Constipation is horrible. It's even worse when you feel like every poop is turning your whole body inside out through your bum! And a big baby head is pushing on your rectum. Just learn to take a deep breath, keep your mouth and lips loose and blow out (like a horse). Keep your feet flat on the floor. I like to think of this as training for the birth. (Birth itself, to me, felt like the biggest BM I've ever had!)

Baby wipes. For you. When you have hemorrhoids, you will realize how important this is! Even the softest toilet paper feels like sandpaper when your insides are coming out. Plus, a little moisturized wipe does cleaning wonders when you are dealing with pregnant-woman-sweaty-crotch in the dead heat of summer.

Panty liners. Or just lots of panties. This is one recommendation that I haven't followed on my own, but I wish that I did (I wish I had 70 gazillion pairs of underwear so I -could- follow this advice). Changing a liner or your underwear will make you feel much better. Excess mucous excretions and sweaty crotch are -not- pleasant. It feels nice to freshen up a bit. Baby wipes are good, but you can't beat fresh, clean underwear!

So, there you have it. The down and dirty on pregnancy bathroom needs. And just so you know, it is definitely ok to pee in the shower.

Can't a girl get a nap?

Since the vomiting episode, life hasn't gotten much easier. Bug is...better. Of course, I'm not sure if that is the best way to describe it. He did have diarrhea for a couple days after the upchucking. And we ran out of laundry. And I was too tired to do it. THAT day, the day the earth pretty much imploded on itself, I was the one that was really sick. And not just "I'm pregnant and feel crummy all the time" sick. It was way worse.

I began the day at 4:45am. I got up and went to the bathroom to empty my stomach contents into our toilet. It was the first time this pregnancy. Then, I went back to sleep. Only to get up a little after 6am. Apparently, someone hit the repeat button, and I was in the bathroom again. Before I knew it, we were all up for the day.

I was tired. My stomach was cramping. And I didn't want to eat anything. I knew that pregnancy sickies can be made to go away (for at least a short amount of time) by eating. I tried to eat. I got down a banana. Then I had to change a diaper. A really bad diaper. And I had to change the little pants that kept that bad diaper from getting all over my carpet.

The I ate one cracker, changed another bad diaper and fished around for the only clean pair of pants for Bug. I couldn't find the pants. I looked around the house. I saw a massively destroyed living room, a kitchen piled high with stinky and dirty dishes, dirty laundry smeared with crusty poop and vomit overflowing from the hamper....and I thought about how tired and horrible I felt....then I lost it. I cried and cried.

I didn't know what to do, so I called the husband and bawled to him about how miserable I was and I begged him to come home. So, he did.

While he was on his way home, I ate one baby carrot, and crawled into bed with Bug. We were napping when he arrived. When we woke up, the dishes were done, the living room was clean, the laundry was being done. My husband is obviously a super human, one of a kind, hunk of a hero! Gosh, I love that man! He even went and got me a roast beef sandwich...even though I was only able to take three bites.

Since that day, I have been feeling better. I still feel like crap, but it's the better kind. The normal pregnant kind. I'm a little bit better at handling all the messes. For instance, I haven't cried once since that day, even though every time I go to take a nap, Bug refuses to join me and instead causes mischief around the house. Mischief like emptying bags of cereal or brown sugar onto the kitchen floor. And I was actually able to laugh when Bug stacked three -glass- cups on top of each other at my parents' house.

Toddlers sure are full of energy. It doesn't always make a good match with a mother who is so un-full of energy it is laughable! But, today, we sat down together and starting watching Tarzan, and I had tears of joy and love come to my eyes. I was reminded that even though things are really difficult right now, I love my family. I love this little boy that I helped to create. And I love my husband who works to hard for us. And I'm so excited for the little baby that will be joining us.

Now, if only I could get a nap!

I've been attacked!

I have been attacked by the pregnancy crummies. Or, just the first trimester crummies, I guess. Either way, I feel crummy. Almost to the point that I have no energy or desire to do anything (other than sleep, of course.) I think I am more exhausted than I would normally be, because I am still nursing Bug. And on top of that, I feel nauseous 24/7, so I'm probably not eating as well as I should be. How can I eat well if nothing sounds good!?! I just want to keep from throwing up whatever I get down (which I have been successful with so far).

And, speaking of throwing up....Bug did. All over me. And himself. AT A LA LECHE LEAGUE MEETING. That I didn't drive to by myself.

So, I changed his clothes, and cleaned up the both of us as best as I could. But I still smelled it. And I sat through the meeting (my ride was the leader of the group, so I couldn't exactly beg her to take me home), feeling very nauseous with the smell of sick in my nose. Then, when the meeting was nearly over, But threw up again. Luckily, this time it was only breast milk. But I couldn't change him into clean clothes (because I had already put him in his spare outfit.) I called the hubby, who was finally able to come and get me. Hallelujah!

I felt horrible. There is nothing worse than sitting in a room full of mothers with young children, with a kid that keeps vomiting. I just hope Bug didn't infect all those babies with whatever he has. (Or had...I can't decide it he is over it yet.)

But, I will tell you what...it is making me sick just thinking about it. Ugh...I can't wait until I get to the second trimester and this all goes away! And I am SOOOOO SORRY to all those women who deal with pregnancy nausea through the whole 9 months!

Blame the Baby

Ahhh....has it seriously been a whole week since I last posted? I keep thinking that I will get back into the blogging groove, but it just isn't happening. Apparently, I have too much stuff going on during the holidays. You should expect the blogging to continue to go slowly...probably until January. Uhm, or March. Who knows!

Anyway, I thought I would share at least a little story that is marginally funny (if you are in the 7th grade). This is one of those stories that happened months and months ago (when Bug was only crawling) and it has been written down in "Mallory's short hand"on a yellow sticky note next to the computer (with all the other yellow sticky notes), waiting for the right time to actually get posted (I guess that is today). And, now that I have started typing this all out, I think this introduction to the story is actually longer than the story.

So, we love going to book stores. We have a Borders book store that is the closest, so we usually go there. As soon as we walk in the door, I head for the pregnancy/childbirth/breastfeeding/parenting/whatelsecanIputafterthisslash section. I also had Bug with me, so I plop him down to crawl around and chew on books. And I squatted down on my haunches to get to the bottom row. And as I squatted down, I definitely passed some gas. Audibly. It was small and kinda cute in that totally gross way, but definitely audible. I quickly looked around to see if I could just get away with it. But there was a lady standing within earshot. I KNOW she heard. So, naturally, I blamed the kid.

"Oh, Bug! I heard that! You are the root'n'est, toot'n'est cowboy in the wild, wild west! Aren't you!?" (We always tell Bug he is the rootnest, tootnest cowboy when he farts.)

And then, I found my book, grabbed Bug and got the heck out of there.

I gotta go...Again!

Last week, I bought Bug his very own potty. I was always very opposed to buying a potty that I would have to empty and clean...but it seems to be worth it.

Over a month ago, I bought a cushioned toilet trainer seat that fits onto the regular toilet. I would sit Bug up on the toilet and try everything I could to encourage him to -go- on the toilet. I would turn water on, sprinkle Bug with water, say "Pssssss", vocally tell him to pee and try all of the techniques that are recommended by those who do elimination communication. (I also would grunt and tell him to poo...I wasn't going to be picky, of course.) He went pee once. I would try and try to get him to do it again. But he just was not interested. I knew it was still early for me to try potty training Bug, but I wanted to try. Bug is so independent, I just felt that it would be good to go ahead and start to try.

Finally, I gave in and bought a cheap toddler potty. I took Bug's pants and diaper off and helped him sit on the potty. Then I asked him if he would go pee. And you know what? He peed!!! I got so excited for him. I clapped. I hooted and whooped and did a little dance. And Bug smiled hugely at me.

Then, I emptied the container into the toilet, rinsed it, and put it back in the seat of Bug's potty. I hadn't put Bug back into a diaper (I figured he would be fine with some diaper free time, because he just peed). As soon as I got the potty back together, Bug sat down on it again. He clenched his hands and grunted and strained for a couple seconds. Then he looked up at me with a happy face and started clapping his hands. He got up off the potty and we both peered into it. There was a little puddle of urine. I clapped again and verbally praised Bug for using his potty again. And I, once again, cleaned the container...still without re-diapering Bug. And...AGAIN...Bug sat on his seat and squeezed and strained and clapped. And was rewarded with praise again as I found three little drops of yellow fluid in the potty. Repeat cleaning process. Finally, I got a diaper and clothes back on Bug before he could once again show me how great he is at using his potty.

And that is how it has gone ever since. In the morning after we wake up, I let Bug use his potty....about three times in a row. Before our shower, I go through it all again. Sometimes we do the routine in the afternoon. And we always do it before bed.

It can be annoying...because I never wanted to have to clean the stupid potty in the first place. (And now I have to clean it three times more than I should have to.) But it is also exciting, because Bug understands. He knows that it is where he should go potty. He obviously recognizes and knows what it feels like to pee. We don't use it all the time, he still has to have his diaper changed throughout the day. And he hasn't learned to defecate in his potty yet. But, I must say, it is a great start to teaching him how to use a toilet!

Aunt Flo

Every woman has an Aunt Flo. Young girls may not have met her yet. Old women may have long said "Farewell" to the good relative. For most women, she makes a monthly visit. Dedicated, if you ask me.

Or to some, Aunt Flo takes an extended vacation, shows up after a couple of years and says, "Holy Macaroni! You have a stinkin' toddler!" And subsequently makes it the worst visit you have had with her in your whole life. At first, you are excited to see her again. But then you realize she isn't happy. She can't believe that you fooled her into that long absence, and is so upset that she brings her fury down heavily, unrelentingly, and painfully.

When she finally leaves again, you are wiping your brow in genuine relief. Then you beg your husband to please, please, help trick her into another extended vacation. Because life without Aunt Flo is a comfortable life, indeed. So you and your husband start formulating plans to keep the bad Aunt away for a while. You don't know if the plans will work, but you will keep trying until they do.

True story.

Little Boys

One really annoying thing about little boys is that they can pee in all directions. And when they pee, they pee. There is no trickling or dribbling. It is all out squirting and spraying.

I was once talking to a lady at a friend's party about little boys and their urinating capabilities. She told me the most hilarious story about when her son was a baby. She said he was just screaming away as she tried to quickly change his diaper. When the cold air hit his baby bottom he started to pee...up, over his body and into his open mouth. This lady said that he gurgled and sputtered through his cry because of the pee in his mouth. Luckily, he didn't breathe any into his lungs. But his mom just totally flipped out. She was a new mom, and so called the pediatrician frantically, wondering if her son would be alright. After all, he just had a mouthful of pee! The nurse on the phone told her that urine is sterile, and that the baby would, indeed, be alright. This lady swears that she heard the other nurses in the office laughing in the background!

When I found out that I was having a boy, I decided to buy some "Pee pee Tee pee's" to try to keep the spray at bay. I later discovered that they weren't very helpful, as they didn't stay on Bug's little pee pee to even act as a tee pee. All you have to do, is learn how to change diapers quickly. But, no matter how fast you can change a diaper, you have to make sure that the little squirt is pointing down. Not sideways. And definitely not up. I learned that the hard way-wet outfits and wondering how the heck my son could pee outside of his diaper!

Bug is old enough now that I don't really have to worry about him peeing while I change his diaper. The trouble now is him removing his diaper without my knowledge. OR sticking his hands in his diaper and pulling his goods out the top. One day the hubs noticed a wet spot on the carpet in our hallway. He assumed it was a harmless wet spot (we do have a toddler, after all....then again, that may not be a good explanation for harmless wet spots) but jokingly asked, "What, did Bug pee on the floor?" I shrugged my shoulders, but went to investigate anyway. And, what do you know...I discovered Bug with his pants off, onesie unsnapped, and diaper missing. The really funny thing is, I had seen him running around with his onesie unsnapped for a while and thought nothing of it. I wonder how long he had been without a diaper!? And I hope that I never find anything more menacing that a wet spot after something like that happens!

It's good for you

My grandma once told me that doctors now believe parent's shouldn't discourage their kids from eating boogers. The logic? Boogers have germs in them from the air around us that will help build up the immunity of the kid eating them. Part of me wants to say, "That makes sense!" and part of my wants to say, "Grandma, that is the craziest and nastiest idea in the world...other than eating something else that would be nastier, of course!"

It is interesting though. I've seen tons of kids dig in their noses for treasures that are apparently too tasty to pass up. In fact, I think it is something that is almost biological. Where else could so many kids learn it? Unless there are parents out there everywhere that have the habit. It reminds me of biology classes that I've had before where I learned that frogs eat their own skin after they shed it. And that mother animals will eat their placentas after they give birth. (And my little sister's dog that would eat what my dad referred to as "kitty crunchies" or...litter box treats.) It seriously intrigues me. I don't think it is wrong. But I can't help but think it isn't something I would prefer to do.

Bug has been a little bit snotty recently. I blame it on teething. (He has ten teeth now. TEN! Two of them are the first of his little molars. So grown up!) And the snot is continually running down into his mouth, where he licks it up like it is a delectable treat. I wipe and wipe and wipe, yet still it runs. And if it isn't running, his nose is full of crystallized boogers. A cave of wonders, I tell ya! And every now and then, he gets a sticky little ball of gummed up booger hovering right around the edge of his nostril.

It was one of those sticky snot balls hanging out on his nose the other day. I was feeling a little too lazy to go get a tissue to wipe it up, so I was just going to swipe it with my finger and.....uhm....stick it under the couch I guess. (Really, I'm not sure what I was planning on doing with the booger once it was on my finger. That might have just been the motivation I needed to go get a tissue.) But, as my finger swiped down, Bug stuck out his tongue. There wasn't time for me to pull my finger away. I swiped that gooey booger ball right onto Bug's tongue, and he ate it up.

Maybe this is why children eat their boogers (apart from it being good for their immune systems). Their parents must just be too lazy to grab a tissue, and they conveniently swipe those boogers into the kiddos' mouths.

Thrush: Revisited

Thrush, how I laugh in your face! Ha!

I tried Grapefruit Seed Extract (GSE). It helped. I could see those little white patches scampering back on Bug's tongue as I swabbed. And swabbed. And swabbed. And swabbed. And....swaaaaaaabbed. (sing that like you would that Pioneer children song). I tried different ratios for the GSE solution. The stronger solution, obviously, worked better. But then I noticed Bug's throat sounding raspy. And my affected tender parts were taking a lot of abuse, too. Drat! The GSE seemed to be too irritating. So I stopped swabbing. And the thrush crept back up on Bug's tongue. But, I continued using a solution of GSE to spray on all the toys that went into his mouth.

I tried acidophilus powder. For both of us. It probably facilitated the GSE. And I think it's a good idea for good health in general. But it wasn't cutting it.

I decided I would try Gentian Violet. I was resisting. You know, what if we get cancer? What if we stay purple for the rest of our lives? What if I get the dye on our apartment carpet? But, I would rather try Gentian Violet then make a trip to the doctor. (Have I told you that Bug hasn't been to the doctor since he was 1 1/2 months old? Well, he hasn't. And I'd like to keep it that way.)

First I tried Wal-Mart. They are supposed to have everything, right? I asked at the pharmacy window for Gentian Violet. "Hmm..what? Vitamins?" Oh dear, this isn't looking good. After asking the real pharmacist, the lady at the counter told me that I would have to try a smaller pharmacy. I let that settle into my brain a little bit. A big pharmacy doesn't have it, so a little pharmacy would? The logic made me roll my eyes. So, then I drove around looking for a CVS or Walgreen's. Where the heck are these places?? I couldn't find a single one. So I stopped at my trusty neighborhood Kroger store. I approached the pharmacy and asked for the elusive dye. "Sorry, we don't have any, but we could order it for you." Ugh. People. You don't know how this thrush is killing me, starting with any woman's pride and joy. Not to mention, I have the whiny-est kid on the planet right now! I asked where the closest "small pharmacies" were.

Finally, I made it to a CVS. And guess what? They didn't have it either. I ordered a bottle. Then I drove over to where the Walgreen's was supposed to be. And the building had a faint shadow of a where the Walgreen's sign used to be. Bummer. I guess I will just have to wait until I get that bottle from CVS to start the treatment.

At last. I paid for my small bottle of purest purple and skipped out the door.

I was warned that the Gentian Violet would get -everywhere-. Yeah, yeah. Everyone else is just not as skilled as I am at the non-mess-making Violet-applying technique.........Well, let's just say, it wasn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be, but there was definitely a lot of mess making.

To make the adventure a little more exciting, Bug decided to dive headfirst off my bed before we did the treatment, and get a nice scratch on his chin. It was really superficial. But, there's nothing like purple dye to make a small scratch look like a near beheading. Oh yeah, and there's that little warning on the Gentian Violet bottle that says not to use on ulcerative skin, or tattooing could occur. I must admit, I was a little worried that my son would have a permanent purple tattoo of a caterpillar creeping across his little chin.

Three purple days later, the thrush has all surrendered. Thus, I laugh it its face.

Oh, and the purple is gone, too.

The torture known as Thrush.

Doing some Internet research, I found that Thrush can be caused by:
a.) taking antibiotics. The antibiotics kill off bacteria, including the good kind. This opens up space for yeast to have a little party. This isn't our case, though. No antibiotics here.
b.) stress. Stress can do all kinds of weird things to your body, including throwing your bacterial/fungal system out of whack...resulting in a possible yeast infection. Once again, I don't think this is our case. Unless Grandma Marty taking Bug to the park to look at ducks counts as stress. Unlikely.
c.) no reason whatsoever. Interesting, is it not? That sometimes these things just pop up out of nowhere? Well, whatever you say. This must be our case!

As many of my readers have probably figured out, I am not big into the modern medical world. So, the first thing I did when I found those cheesy, white spots inside Bug's mouth was head to the nearest natural foods store to pick up some Grapefruit Seed Extract (GSE) and some Acidophilus powder. I've been alternating between the two with various types of treatment (oral, paste, solution).

I haven't seen much improvement yet. Bug's mouth is still patched with white, and my....erm...nursies...are tender, red and blistered. Which is where the torture comes into play. Nursing a 13 month old is a complete joy and pleasure. Most of the time. I know Bug still needs to nurse. Unfortunately, that is the only thing keeping me from weaning him right now. And I will tell you what, thrush is NOT helping. It is so painful for me. (So, you if you want to comment, make sure you are only telling me to keep up nursing, that I can do it, that I'm supermom, that this too shall pass. Or tell me how you cured your own case of thrush. But if you tell me it's ok to go ahead a wean, I will find your house and put Gentian Violet in your washer.)

I can't tell if the thrush is painful for Bug. He still nurses and eats and puts everything in his mouth. (Yes, this thrush is probably going to be difficult to beat, because of Bug's mouthing habits.) But, I do suspect that it is bothering him to some extent. How can I tell??? He has turned into a complete and total pill! I know it may seem selfish of me, because I don't know the extent of Bug's discomfort, but I really think I'm getting the short end of the stick here!

My last bit of hope...before resorting to all kinds of anti-fungal treatments that may or may not work, from the doctor...would be to get Gentian Violet. I feel like this is a middle of the road treatment. It isn't nystatin, but it isn't GSE, either. Oh, and have I mentioned that it has been linked to mouth cancer!? And that it stains -everything- so well that biologists use it to stain and look at microscopic organisms!? Let's just say, I'm hesitant to use this stuff.

All this because of...nothing. Or maybe those ducks did stress out Bug.

Anatomy 101

According to Freud, Bug is still in the Oral Stage. I'm not much of a believer in the Freudian ways. I prefer to stick with Erikson's psychosocial development stages. I do, however, see examples of Bug wanted to learn about and explore his body...and anyone else's, for that matter.

"Where's Bug's head?" I ask. If I am lucky, Bug will reach up and pat his head with both of his hands. How's that for cute? Most of the time, though, Bug will shriek with delight and grab the closest toy (which usually ends up in his mouth).

"Brush you teeth!" has become one of my famous sayings...already! Every time the hubs and I get our toothbrushes ready and start brushing, Bug won't be satisfied until he has his own brush in hand. He thinks it is just a regular toy, and it gets carried around the house, despite my attempts to keep it in the bathroom. Now....where has it gone this time?

"Cabeza, Cara, Hombros, Pies. Hombros, Pies. Hombros, Pies. Cabeza, Cara, Hombros, Pies. Ojos, orejas, boca, nariz!" For those of you don't know already, this is the Spanish version of the song "Head, shoulders, knees and toes". I'm fairly convinced that Bug's first word is going to be in Spanish, and I won't even know that he's said his first word, because I won't understand it!

Perhaps Bug will grow up to be an ENT or a dentist. His little fingers love to probe into any facial orifice they can find. Usually this is my mouth or nose while nursing. And on more than one occasion, I have found him picking his nose...which is usually followed by a demonstration of how he can fit his whole fist into his mouth.

Nursing games. Uhm...we won't go into all that goes on while nursing, it's just embarrassing. Fine, fine. Ok! Quit pestering me about it, I'll tell you. Nosey people. Anyway, Bug likes to twiddle (as most older nursing babies/toddlers do), and fondle, and blow raspberries. And just yesterday, he lovingly grabbed a hold of my belly fat roll and squeezed and kneaded it gently. How sweet.

Tickles! Bug is so ticklish on his belly button...and his upper thigh. And he loves to blow raspberries on my belly button. He would probably do it to his daddy, too, but nobody likes the feeling of having a hair stuck in your mouth.

"Toes in your nose" is a favorite game of ours. Kids are just so darn flexible, and they love it when their feet are close to their faces, for some reason. I just love those soft baby feet. Too bad they are getting much more wear and tear now that Bug is walking everywhere. Yep, even babies get toe jam; although, it is somewhat more adorable to see baby toes full of lint than big people toes full of lint.

Diaper changing horror. Good grief! Can't I go a week without having to mention poop? Well, the bodily exploration doesn't end. Poopy diapers are a pain to change. Usually I have to set a wipe aside for Bug's hands. And once his bum is clean, I have to swipe away his hands from his crotch to get his on his clean diaper. Is this Bug moving into one of Freud's other stages???

Uh, eeew.

*Warning: This post may be highly disturbing to those with a weak constitution.*

I am one of those people who think that all the best stories have to do with poop. As you may recall from my lame-o April Fool's day post, I have been in a blogging slump. This morning I learned, all you have to do is wait....and the good stories will come to you.

Every morning, Bug wakes slightly and has his morning dose of mother's milk while still in bed. Then, he usually sits up and starts laughing/growling/pulling my hair until I get up and out of bed. THEN, he has his morning poop.

Really, he doesn't have a morning poop every morning, but most...so, in our family, we refer to it as "the morning poop". Now, "the morning poop" is usually very interesting. Usually, it includes little bits and pieces from what he has been eating lately. And, usually, there is a lot of it (because he has been storing it up -usually- from the morning before.)

Anyway...I try not to change his morning diaper until AFTER "the morning poop", because the poop comes pretty quickly after getting out of bed, and I don't want to change his diaper twice, one right after the other. (Maybe I should seriously start looking into elimination communication.)

Well, this morning, Bug and I get out of bed and do some morning stretches. I go pee. I pull on my nice, comfy, long-sleeved tee and I plop Bug down on a changing mat. I grab another diaper, and the wipes and open up the diaper. [Now, as a side note, Bug HATES diaper changes. He LOATHES them. DESPISES them.] Bug is trying to wiggle away from me. I am holding him down as best as I can. Then, like lightning, he grabs hold of the front of his diaper and PULLS IT STRAIGHT UP over his head. The weight of the diaper is pulling it down, and "the morning poop"........oh, this is horrible.........leaves a trail the whole way. It was everywhere, I tell you, EVERYWHERE. On his butt, in his crotch, on his belly, on his shirt, on his nose, on his forehead, and on my carpet. And, I think, a little in his mouth, too (emphasized by Bug sticking out his tongue and spitting). And because I'm a good mom, I made sure to get a picture:


So, this morning, I waited a little bit longer to eat my yummy, homemade cinnamon rolls, and I went straight to the bathroom to give the little guy a bath. With lots of soap.