take it for a spin

I want a pretty laundry room. Pinterest told me I should… and could. Colorful walls, a delicate chandelier, granite counter, coordinating baskets and custom artwork. Pinterest has brainwashed me to believe I should be shoveling mounds of clothing in and out of machines in a state of luxury.

And, frankly, I like that idea. I mean, I am averaging 1,000 loads of laundry each year. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to liven up a daily drudgery. So, when Philip presented the idea of removing the bulky stands beneath our machines and replacing the tops with a beautiful countertop, I was intrigued.

My laundry room could look like this…

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Or, this…

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Or, even this…

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I could do laundry in pretty. {Oh, how my wish list has changed.}

But, then, I snapped back to reality. I realized that without the stands, little hands could reach all those irresistible buttons and easily crawl into open machines. This could only end in disaster. Horrifying thoughts of Austin shoving little brother into the washing machine flashed through my mind. Oh, no. No. No. No. This would not work. Knowing our boys, this would absolutely happen.

As time has passed, the thought of ditching the stands occasionally creeps back into my head. Usually, it’s when I’m waist deep in stinky little boy clothing. But, as of last week, that thought is squelched for good.

A few mornings ago, Austin “slept in.” And, when I say “slept in,” I mean he came into our bed at 6 a.m. and continued to sleep soundly with his arm in my face until 8 a.m. He even slept through Everett’s wailing grand entry into the mix slightly before 7 a.m. This is considered sleeping in at our house.

Anyway, because extra sleep rarely never happens here, this threw off our entire schedule of getting out the door on time for Mother’s Day Out. So, we scrambled and hurried, and I did my best to make sure everyone was presentable.

Austin was moving extra slow that morning, so I helped him along. I spent two minutes getting him ready. TWO minutes. When I finished, I scurried off to find Everett who had quickly and quietly left the scene. This is where I found him…

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TWO MINUTES! Two minutes, and my one-year-old has sprinted across the house and climbed halfway into the washing machine. I mean, really? Are you kidding me?

He was a shove away from being sent through a wash cycle by Austin. Sheesh. Never getting rid of the stands. In fact, we may need to investigate double stands. Do they make those? Of course, knowing our children, they’ll probably still scale it like a rock climber.

On belay.

i see your hiney

Tuesdays are Mother’s Day Out days for Austin. And, after MDO, we always meet a couple of Austin’s friends for a few minutes of extra play. It’s become a little ritual. We can’t leave without waiting for his buds. It’s really pretty adorable. So, like every Tuesday, the kids ran up and down, over and around in the small field at the church, while us Mommas chatted away.

And, then I looked up. There is Austin. There he is, peeing in public. Pants at his ankles. Bare butt and all. In the grass in front of the church. With everyone picking up their kids from Mother’s Day Out. Oh, and let’s not forget the soccer practice that was being held 20 feet away from him.

I die.

I raced toward him, as he proudly grinned at me, continuing to water the grass as I ran. I promptly pull his undies up to cover his hiney, but, I’m forced to stop midway. It’s still flowing.

“Stop peeing, Austin. Austin! Stop peeing!”

He glances at me briefly, then returns his attention to the task at hand. I’m immediately regretting ever letting him “water” the tree in our backyard.

I had two options at this point. Waste no time, pull up his pants, deal with wet undies and a clean up at the car, OR… Just let it go. Yeah… I let him go.

So, I waited, for what felt like a good five minutes, which, obviously, was more like an additional five seconds. When he finally turned it off, I yanked his jeans back on. And, then, proceeded to laugh hysterically while he skipped away. This was probably not the most appropriate response for when one’s kid urinates in public in the grass of the church. But, sometimes humor is just way better than reality. We may have to revisit this talk later. Parenting fail.

But, the good news is I didn’t have to worry about dragging Austin into a public restroom while we ran errands, where I may or may not have had to be a human step stool for him depending on how he was feeling about the automatic flushers that day. That should make up for the prior public embarrassment, right?

one step forward, a handful of Cheerios back

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I remember my closet being a disaster as a kid. It wasn’t that you couldn’t maneuver through it. It was just messy. Barbies, ponies, puzzles and stuffed animals, all intermingled in a single basket, always overflowing and spilling onto the floor. Clothes hung haphazardly from hangers. Hundreds of mismatched toy parts were stashed wherever room would hold. And, mountains of school work and books were hidden amongst it all.

This organizationally-challenged closet drove my best friend crazy. Occasionally, she would convince me that we had to clean out the closet together. But, the inevitable always happened. We would pull everything out, nearly drown in junk, and she would have to go home. And, I would sit there atop this mess,  feeling overwhelmed and unsure of the next move.

This is how I felt today.

I woke up this morning feeling ambitious. Well, to be fair, the ambition only came after a decent amount of caffeine and having an avalanche of junk fall in my face while searching for some crayons. But, regardless, I started the day ready to revamp our organizational system, or lack there of. It was time for a little spring cleaning.

Just out of curiosity, have you ever tried completely de-cluttering, re-organizing and cleaning your home with a one- and three-year-old squealing at your heels and actually expecting success in a single day? Or, am I the only delusional one here? I would file that under the impossible.

My house looks worse off than when I started. I partly cleaned out one closet only to be distracted by an exploding cabinet in desperate need of some TLC. Dance parties occurred approximately every five minutes with the kids, and there was countless refereeing between the two. Then, let’s not even get into how much time I spent scrutinizing the hodgepodge of our laundry room. And, the “Things to Donate” boxes… well, the boys found those… and pulled everything out and reclaimed them as their own. Oh, and that hallway I finished cleaning three minutes ago, well, it now has a trail of Cheerios at the end of it.

Overwhelmed.

You know, they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Well, good news… I’m not crazy.

I gave up on overwhelmed, and we played outside… with paint… everywhere. If you’re going to make a mess, might as well as make it worth it.

Maybe I’ll catch you next year, spring cleaning. I can live with a little “organized” chaos 😉

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a letter from your sleep deprived mother

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My darling Everett,

I have an urgent matter to discuss that is causing a few expedited grey hairs. Let me begin by telling you that I love you so much and enjoy watching you blossom into toddlerhood. Walking, climbing and exploring the world around you… It’s beautiful to see. As a newfound toddler, I respect that you are beginning to have an opinion about your choices. Good for you. I am thrilled to let you choose between a banana or strawberries, or, whether you would like to throw a ball or roll a car. But, what I cannot accept is the new sleep schedule that you have chosen.

Five a.m. is not an acceptable wake up for the day. Ever.

It never has been. It never will be. There is not enough caffeine on the face of the planet to make me pleasant at 5 a.m. And, to be honest, you are not especially cheerful at that hour either. Yet, you insist upon this early rise despite the effects it has on you later in the day. Are you aware that it’s not normal to completely lose your mind because there are Cheerios on your tray? Or, to begin sobbing uncontrollably when someone looks at you? Yes. Well, there is a direct correlation there. You need more sleep. And, so do your parents.

And, while we are on the subject… What’s up with your naps? Where did they go? Don’t you realize you were my dream napper? And, now all you do is scream like a possessed demon child when I lay you in your crib for naps. Have you been talking to your brother? Whatever he tells you, he is lying. Naps are wonderful… especially two to three hour ones. But, hey, we can compromise. I could be happy with an hour… or, even less… Just give me something, dear. Screaming in your crib doesn’t really work for either of us.

I’m not sure Mommy will survive if both of my children give up on napping before the age of two. It seems like cruel and unusual punishment. So, take one for the team, Everett. Just go to sleep.

Please. Go. To. Sleep.

With love,

Your Momma’s sanity

happy heart day… one year after

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This week marks Everett’s one-year anniversary of his heart surgery. March 11 is the day Everett’s heart became new, and he could finally breathe easy.

When I think back to where we were one year ago, the feelings are bittersweet. My heart aches remembering the worry, the unknown, the exhaustion, and the pain my two-month-old son had experienced in his short little life. But, the week following surgery, there was joy. There was hope. There was relief. And, for the first time, there were smiles from our sweet Everett.

How far he has come in only a year. We didn’t know what his future would look like following surgery – Whether he would be delayed, how long he would require the NG tube, whether the surgery would work.

On the week celebrating his first anniversary, Everett is taking his first continuous steps. We have a walker. He has overcome all the obstacles, big and small, from this past year. And, today, we have a happy, healthy little boy.

There will always be worry and concern that his heart is causing problems again, but, for now, our life is crazy in a normal way. We have a newfound toddler who never ceases to explore the world around him, who already has a determined personality, and who smiles through all life’s hiccups.

I never could have imagined this is what life would be like a year after surgery. Or, how beautiful that scar would look through my eyes. I never dreamed he would be walking, talking and causing mischief like any other child his age. I thank God for my miracle. Happy Heart Day, Everett.

too much information

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Potty talk is in full swing at our house. We talk pee. We talk poop. We rejoice over every secretion that doesn’t soak Austin’s pants or land on the floor. We proudly clap as he literally shows us his latest drop off in the potty. It’s amazing how dull I have become to such disgusting discussion. And, that’s parenthood.

But, nothing quite prepared me for the new public embarrassment of potty training. When you introduce pee pee and poo poo into a toddler boy’s vocabulary, there is no filter on their mouth. And, the moment you frown at their potty talk, well, you’ve just fueled the fire. Let me replay our recent trip to the store.

As I push the boys in the basket through the store,

“Do tigers go poo poo?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Do Tiggers go poo poo?”

“Yes, Austin.”

“Do birds go poo poo?”

“Yes.”

“Do cars go poo poo?”

“Uh, no.”

“Cars do go poo poo.”

“Huh, okay then.”

“Does Everett go poo poo?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you go poo poo?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Does he go poo poo?” pointing straight to a man within earshot.

“Uh huhhh..” as we quickly turn down the nearest aisle.

“Do dogs go poo poo?”

I pause in silence trying to rack my brain as to why I am actually in this store. Funny. All I can seem to think about are body fluids. Yuck.

“Momma. Momma. MOMMA. Do dogs go poo poooo?”

“YES. Dogs go poo poo, too.”

He giggles, and, then, is distracted by a shiny object. Thank goodness for a toddler’s attention span. This buys me about five minutes to finish our trip. I wrap things up and proceed to check out, where, of course, there is a mile-long line. We wait, and I mentally go through my to-do list for the day. During this time, Austin has begun singing.

“Bye bye pee peeeeee. Bye bye pooooop. Bye bye pee pee. Bye bye pooop.”

To be honest, I’m pretty sure he was several choruses in before I really paid attention to what he was singing. By this point, we had quite the mixed audience of chuckles and disapproving glances. Oops.

We reach the cashier, and Austin is mesmerized by the candy. Awesome. One child distracted. Now, I just have to play keep away with my credit cards from Everett in the basket. I begin paying, and, out of nowhere, Austin is standing next to me. He proudly tells the cashier how he went poop in the potty. She nods awkwardly. And, then, Austin announces with no less pride that Momma also went poop. Fantastic.

TMI, Austin. Too. Much. Information.

a foodie of sorts

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So, here’s the deal. Everett is an awful conventional eater. No surprise there since we struggled with bottle feedings and again struggled with the introduction of solids. Several months in occupational therapy, and he finally takes solids but it’s limited.

Oreos were the first actual solid he willingly took. And, for a while, they were a staple in his diet. From there, he began accepting other types of cookies and various crackers. Pretty sure those baby teeth are going to rot out from that menu.

Eventually, he welcomed cubed cheese and the occasional spoonful of oatmeal into his diet. And, that’s where it ended.

I’m not sure cookies, crackers, cheese, a scoop of oatmeal, and a liquid vitamin he often vomits back up would be considered a well-rounded meal. And, I can’t bear the pediatrician’s advice of only offering him what we are eating for each meal. Tried that. He eats nothing and then wakes up screaming and starving in the middle of the night. Something had to change. So, I got creative.

I scoured Pinterest looking for recipes incorporating hidden veggies and fruits and pulled out some of my old favorites from when Austin was younger. My tried and true recipes for Austin were not such a hit with Everett. Usually, they were tossed to the floor with Everett grinning ear to ear. He was taunting me. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Mom.”

Recipe after recipe, he rejected. I have cooked a lot over the last few weeks, and, really, I dislike cooking. Up until a few years ago, the extent of my culinary expertise was Mac ‘n Cheese… from a box, toast, and driving through Chick-fil-a. The hubby certainly didn’t marry me for my skills in the kitchen. But, since then, I have expanded upon that and can happily cook meals for my family (as long as it has less than five ingredients). I was determined to make something Everett would eat.

And, then one day, I discovered the “in” to Everett’s eating. Saltine crackers.

We started with peanut butter. He loved it, and we love that it’s an excellent source of protein. Score one for us. Several days passed, and I was feeling “daring.” I smothered the cracker in cottage cheese, expecting him to throw it back in my face. He ate it. And, another. And, another.

This is about the time I started brainstorming all the concoctions he might eat off a saltine cracker. After he tossed his banana for the 50th time, I tried mashing it up. I spread a chunky layer on the cracker and handed it back over. He surveyed this new paste then promptly beat it against the tray until all the banana had slid off. Score, Everett.

I gave him a couple days and tried again with the banana, but this time, making it a smoother paste. He devoured three banana crackers with no hesitation. The key is in the cracker.

Since then, we’ve used strawberries, turkey with melted cheese, and the most recent, green beans with melted cheese. So bizarre. It’s even more bizarre to me because this kid would not touch purees, and he still won’t. Unless it’s mashed on a saltine. Oy.

But, it could be worse. He could want everything atop an Oreo. Mmm… Veggie paste Oreos.

batman undies to the rescue

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Good news for us. Bad news for Pampers. Sorry, Pampers. My kid won’t be going to college in diapers after all. Release the confetti and pour Mommy a glass of Champagne. It looks like big man Austin is finally potty trained.

I’m not sure what changed to lead to this success – whether it was time, a new method, or truly by the grace of God. But, based on our previous experiences, I might chalk this one up to a miracle… or, the new Batman undies. Yep. Pretty sure it was the undies.

Our last attempt was in the fall. Frankly, after that bout, I was feeling chicken about trying again. We made lots of excuses about it not being the right time. I didn’t want to deal with meltdown after meltdown or mopping up tee tees and poo poos in the middle of the floor produced out of downright defiance. My sanity would not survive. So, we continued to put it off… until we received the registration paperwork for Austin’s Mother’s Day Out program for the fall.

Apparently, they are not interested in changing diapers on three- and four-year-olds next year. Ha. I can’t imagine why. For Austin to move up, he has to be potty trained. And, not “We’re working on it” potty trained, but experienced potty trainer. That’s the kick I needed. As soon as he recovered from the flu, we started training. Cue the Rocky theme song.

I borrowed “Potty Training 1-2-3” from a friend that recently had success potty training her son. And, I loved it! If you are having trouble potty training, pick this book up. Now. The method around the book is primarily rewarding your child for staying clean and dry, not for producing on the potty. Obviously, you still reward for using the potty, but it’s not the emphasis. Most of the methods we had tried focused on using the bathroom. That was a dead end for Austin. Once he decided he didn’t want to sit on the potty, it was a lost cause and power struggle. This methods puts the control in our hands and sets him up for success.

Don’t get me wrong. It was still hard and frustrating, even with a method that seemed to work for Austin. We didn’t leave the house for two days, and in that time, we focused on Austin and patience (LOTS of patience), and attempted to keep Everett from climbing on, playing in and eating the potty chair.

Plus, we watched The Potty Movie on constant repeat for 48 hours. I’m quite certain I will never be able to rid the tune or images of toddlers singing “Bye bye pee pee. Bye bye poop” from my head. Ah, parenthood.

But, a successful weekend has led to a triumphant week. He’s still not 100 percent trained, but there are rarely accidents and he no longer pees on himself when I announce it’s time to sit on the potty in an effort to avoid sitting on it. Progress, people. Progress.

This child will be attending school next year.