Ode To Odors

     To those lovely Mommies out there that offered so many suggestions on how to deal with a gassy and colicky baby, I am so appreciative. Thank you all! But a question to those of you that mentioned using gripe water.... WHY DOES MY BABY NOW SMELL LIKE SULFURIC ACID!?!? My house smells like a science experience that went awry! I come home from work and the odor hits me with a force that could knock me into the next county. And the results are almost instantaneous... in goes the gripe water, out comes the rotten eggs. I feel that the creators of this product should also come out with a line of air freshener that acts as a neutralizer when it encounters gripe-butt-odor. Now, that being said, Isaac slept for over 4 hours straight last night... no gas, no fussing. So, explosive smells or not, I'm hooked. (Not that the fussing is completely gone, but I'm not one to knock improvement when I see it!)
     Speaking of smells... how about that flu, huh? You know the one... it's effecting roughly 98% of the region right now and is accompanied by the glorious aromas of vomit, diarrhea, and potent air that explosively leaves one's rectum (AKA, the fart). Not only have myself and my husband experienced a variety of these symptoms within he last week, but the children have had their fair share of "explosive" moments as well. First, there was the incident of Isaac projectile vomiting all over me... WHILE I was wearing him in the baby carrier. His puke literally bounced off of my chest and flung back at him, covering his entire face and head with goo (not to mention the large quantities that leaked all the way down my shirt AND inside of my pants).
     And then there was Cameron. This morning, he informed me that his stomach was a little upset. So, I told him to lay back down for a few minutes in his bed.... only to hear him gagging over his garbage can moments later. (Yummy.) Then, this evening, Cameron said to me, "Hey Shivonne! I went to the bathroom and it looks like water!" "That's good, Cam. When your pee is clear, it means you're drinking enough water," I said. "No, not my PEE! My POOP looks like water!" he explained. (Ouch. Double yummy.)
     Finally, Taylor's need to take the cake at all times emerged while we were in the bathroom this evening getting ready for her bath. She began telling me that her butt was hurting her where she poops. I asked her if it hurt when she went to the bathroom, and she said yes. (Oh great, a hemorrhoid, I thought.) Being the good mother that I'm trying to be, I told her I'd take a look (against my better judgement). She bent over, spread her cheeks, and just as I was leaning down to take a look, she farted directly in my face. Awesome. She stood up and covered her mouth, eyes big, as she squeaked out an "Excuse me!" But I suppose it could've been worse. Afterall, at least she isn't taking the gripe water!

JUST BE CALM!!!

     After a brief hiatus from writing, I am happy to announce that I'm back...and feeling a good deal saner, too! It truly was a rough couple of weeks. Without going into all the woe-is-me's, let me just say that lack of sleep, an increase in kids' negative behaviors, getting sick, and having a broken computer (not to mention prepping for the holidays) was a bit more than this Mommy could handle! So, as to avoid bringing down the mood of all you other lovely mommies out there, I decided that I would suffer in silence until the dark cloud passed. (And by suffer in silence, I mean roar like a raging lion at my husband, children, and all those near me for about 2 weeks straight.)
     So, when my parents came out from Michigan to help us manage life (oh, and to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday... I suppose that was the actual reason they came out, wasn't it?...), it gave me a bit of time to pull back and yell less.... less. Then, my father had a novel idea. He suggested that I try to be calm with the children. Is this man out of his precious mind? I thought. He's been with these rascals all weekend and seen how taxing they are! But he reminded me that being reactionary makes me feel worse instead of getting my point across to unruly kids. (Duh... this is therapy 101, but because I'm currently living on the crazy farm these days, I've lost all sense entirely.) I decided to try my dad's plan. So, this evening, I calmly told the children to clean up their rooms... I had to calmly tell them about 40 times, but I did it calmly nevertheless. Then, I calmly informed Taylor that she could refuse to get her potties out before bed, but that I would then wake her every 10 minutes throughout the night until she peed for me. Finally, I calmly reminded the kids that their constant squabbling over minute matters breaks Jesus' heart... and that we now have three children, so that means we have a spare if one of them would happen to, say, disappear in the middle of the night and never be heard from again. Both Cameron and Taylor looked at me with slight grins... because they were PRETTY sure I was kidding, but they weren't positive, so they figured they'd better behave.
     On a different note, I'd like to request some advice from you Mommies (and Daddies) out there. Let's say your baby were to scream for hours on end, no matter what you tried to do to calm him... and let's say that your baby ALSO has pretty ferocious gas all day long. Could these screams be due to gas pains? And if your baby were getting gas drops regularly but not feeling any relief at all, what would you do? Because MY baby would never be like this at all.... (I'm just asking for a friend of a friend....) And if your baby were to have consistently green and yellow soft-serve-ish poos that cause his diaper to rival your Thanksgiving turkey in weight, would you be concerned? Isaac... I mean, my "friend's" baby, Shmisaac... is completely fine for many hours during the day, but then he cries constantly, and even food won't calm him, which is COMPLETELY abnormal for this little chunker. Anyways, I'd love to pass on your advice to my friend, so please, let your Mommy juices start flowing and help this gal problem-solve!

No Brains

     Our baby apparently has no brains.... according to our 4-year-old. I tried to tell her otherwise, but she just insisted that our baby is brainless. This all started when Taylor, Isaac, and myself went to her gymnastics class last night. I decided to take the baby with us because he has turned into our sweet little bundle of colic (or whatever the heck is making him cry for hours at a time) and we needed to give Daddy a bit of a break. Plus, this is the only time of the day that I get to see him while he and I are both awake (well, him more than me these days!). So, we arrived at gymnastics, 4-year-old, 3-week-old, purse, diaper bag, gymnastics gear, and baby carrier in tow... all of this, naturally, had to be carried to the top floor of the building (because athletes don't believe in elevators... these people are all too "fit" and "perky" to be weighed down by an extra 20 lbs and kid crap in a slippery stairwell).
     Taylor's gymnastics coach was ready to greet us at the top of the stairs (bless her heart... she took half of my luggage as I gasped for breath.... these kids are turning me into an asthmatic, I tell you). Miss Dawn immediately began to coo at the baby, giving the perfunctory ooo's and aahhh's. Taylor, Miss Show-Off herself, proudly told her coach all about baby Isaac.
     "He's MY baby and I'm the big sister." (Taylor)
     "And I bet you make the best big sister in the whole world!" (Miss Dawn)
     "Yup... I help take care of the baby... I feed him, and I help change him, and I hold him...." (Taylor)
     Um, in what universe?? That must be in those imaginary times between being sent to your room for bending his arms the wrong way and trying to pinch his nose closed....
     "Wow, you're such a big help! You must know a lot about babies now." (Miss Dawn)

     "Yeah, like you can't push on the baby's head in the center." (Taylor)
     "That's right! Very good, Taylor. We never push on a baby's soft spot." (Miss Dawn)
     "Yep, because he don't have any brains in there yet." (Taylor)
     Hmmm... I remember explaining this very differently to her...
     " Well, honey, it's not because he doesn't have brains..." (Miss Dawn)

     "Uh huh....that's why baby Isaac's not smart." (Taylor)
     "Taylor, Isaac is smart... we don't push on the soft spot because we don't want to hurt him, not because he doesn't have brains." (Me, finally interjecting)
     "I don't think so." (Taylor said smartly.)
     "Oh no? Because even baby Isaac is smart enough to know that his big sister will be grounded if she continues to talk back...." (Me)
     "Fine. He has brains." (Score 1 for the Mama)

     And while Taylor was attempting to do handstands and cartwheels, I received the phone message that I'd been desperately waiting for all afternoon. Grasping my phone with the two fingers I could spare as I balanced Isaac, his bottle, and the binky, I received the news that my brother's first baby was born. I am a new Aunt! Konner Isaiah was delivered 6-weeks early by emergency C-section. And he's already a champ! Healthy, alert, and happy... all that you could ask for in a sweet little baby boy!
     When Taylor came out of her class, I had tears in my eyes as I showed her the first pictures of Konner.
     "Aww, he's pretty! And I won't even touch him on his soft spot. Hey, can we get ice cream?"
     And with that, she moved on with her life as if nothing had happened... but it's obviously Isaac that doesn't have any brains.

Wolf Bait

WARNING:

This post contains a less-than flowery depiction of children ranging from ages 4-6.

     

FOR SALE:

Two children, ages 4-6.

(Will take best offer)

(...or free to a good home)

     Every few weeks or so it seems that I get re-bitten by the Bipolar bug. Thoughts begin to run through my mind such as, "I wonder why God chose to populate the earth by using such crazy things as children?", and "I think it's about time I get that hysterectomy... ya know, just to be safe.", and "Hey! Let's hire a sitter for the night and then... move away! (We'll send the kids a post card, without a return address.)"
     These regular cycles of actually liking and disliking the short people that live in my home are akin to those associated with menstruation.... except that children don't make me bloat, and PMS doesn't make me homicidal. But my favorite part of this parenting experience is the large number of people that tell you, "Oh, what your kid is doing is totally normal." Oh my gosh, really?? If that's the case, why in the WORLD are people still having sex? It's a wonder that word hasn't spread like wildfire : BEWARE! CHILDREN ARE ROTTEN! USE ABSTINENCE!!! I mean, seriously, in the animal kingdom, it's survival of the fittest. If you're the obnoxious, tattling, argumentative young in the animal pack that's drawing the attention of a predator, you'd quickly become wolf-bait. "Charlie was a sweet squirrel, but he just wouldn't stop whining... so we had to let him go." And the rest of the squirrels would understand!
     Now, I'm not saying I would feed my kids to a pack of wolves just because they're being disobedient little stinkers.... wait, am I saying that?? Regardless, it truly is amazing that our nation is as over-populated as it is. You can almost see where China is coming from, regulating the number of children each couple can have. It's not because the country doesn't have the room for these kids, it's just that they don't have the tolerance to put up with them outnumbering the parents and, thus, causing them to go insane!
     Well, obviously, my Bipolar swing is in full force (it has been all weekend, hence my lack of blogging for a few days. I didn't feel that it was very Christian of me to subject you all to more than one day of this horrid attitude that has overtaken my insides!). My usual self-help remedies and coping skills to manage these drastic mood swings have become virtually impossible while caring for a newborn. Sadly, the baby is the only one NOT driving me utterly bonkers... but have you ever tried playing the piano while holding a screaming infant? Or doing yoga while trying to keep a bottle in his mouth? Or talk on the phone to a friend while the baby wails into the receiver, as you try to hold it against your ear with your shoulder, causing it to slip right out and shatter into 3 pieces on your kitchen floor??? Yeah, how's THAT for stress-relief!
     But my "medication" is finally kicking in.... I was able to go to church and get my worship on (blessedly the baby slept the entire time and my husband kept the kids' incessant demands to a minimum) and we heard an awesome message. I was also able to spend some time yesterday and today with friends (my husband, ever the saint, returned home from work and took the kids for 3 hours, giving me some much-needed time away!). And now, I've got a sleeping baby beside me, two larger versions sleeping just down the hall, and dogs cuddled at my feet. Here in this moment, it's hard to believe that I was stressed at all. However, I do not let myself forget that in a matter of hours, everyone will awaken, full of renewed energy and mischievousness, and the work week will be in full swing, and I will once again consider the wolves.... but for now, I'm going to rest and enjoy the peace that is finally in my home.... well, as soon as I change this last diaper... or get the septic tank pumped, whichever the case may be.

Rationality Is For The Childless

     People in my house may start dying if I have to wipe crusted chunks of toothpaste off my sink, faucet, mirror, or counter top one more time! Of course that's not a rational statement, but since when does rationality have anything to do with being a mother? But seriously, I'm going to hire a sniper to sit behind the shower curtain and take out the responsible party and/or parties each time they try to do a spit-and-run. I just don't understand it.... toothpaste gets squeezed out of the tube, onto the toothbrush, and then the toothbrush gets put into the mouth. Only spit should be coming back out, not entire chunks of toothpaste.... especially when I know that I've watched the kids brush their teeth for at least the length of the ABCs and it's STILL coming out chunky. And why in God's name is it on my mirror?!?!? I feel like this actually takes effort and a well-thought out plan to achieve, particularly because my kids can't even REACH the mirror without being lifted up. I haven't seen a ladder or a set of stilts, so unless they're climbing onto each other's shoulders to smear the glittery, sea-green paste onto my lovely mirror, I'm completely baffled.
     This is a conversation that we've had repeatedly in our home. If you make a mess in the bathroom, you MUST clean it up. Toothpaste, pee, toilet paper, toilet flushing, used tissues, soap drippings, and all dirty clothes must be promptly taken care of BY THE PERSON WHO MADE THE MESS. So, because my daughter is choosing today to be obedient, I came home and went into the half-bath after a full day of "holding it in". Just as I'm about to sit down, I notice that there is liquid.... everywhere. As I did a bare-bottomed hover over the seat, I contemplated the source and consistency of this mystery fluid. The options were narrowed down to 1) water, and 2) urine. (Please be 1, please be 1...) Naturally, I did what any mother would do... I dipped a few fingers into the liquid, held it to my nose, and took a deep sniff. Relief. It's just water, I told myself. I began wiping up the water, which was all over the toilet seat, toilet lid, toilet tank, floor, rug, mirror, and counter top. I finished my business, washed my hands, and.... It was then that I noticed the hand towel and kids' wash cloth for cleaning faces were also wet. Then the thought occurred to me.... Is this sink water or toilet water???
     I exited the bathroom and questioned the first person I found.... my husband. He laughed as he explained to me that he had no idea where the water came from, but that Taylor was "cleaning" the bathroom for us earlier. My daughter beamed innocently and proudly as she told me that she washed the toilet and counter with the face rag and then dried the toilet and counter with the hand towel.... the towel that I just dried my hands on after I used the restroom.... the face rag the children had used to wash up with after their craft. Awesome. But don't worry... to get even I just cleaned up the toothpaste situation with Taylor's wash cloth. No, no I am definitely NOT rational... but it's just so hard to find a good sniper these days.