My kid rocks at puking

Let's label this as yet another thing I never thought I would be talking about-- let alone bragging about-- before I had kids. But I am so proud of FunnyKid and his new puking skills that I had to share (it's the little things in life, you know?)

Up until this past weekend, FunnyKid had thrown up on two separate occasions. Both times, he was asleep in his bed when he threw up pretty much all over his face and hair, woke up crying and had to be stripped and rushed into the shower, where one parent got him clean while the other one stripped and remade the bed.

I felt awful for FunnyKid when this happened because the only thing worse than being sick is being pulled out of your bed, stripped of your clothes and being thrown into a shower when you were blissfully asleep just moments before. The poor kid would huddle under the water crying and begging to go back to bed while we explained why he was showering (multiple times in one night) and rushed to get him clean.

But that changed this weekend. We were staying at my dad's house for one night (the one fateful night). FunnyKid, who had exhibited no symptoms of not feeling well and had been running around just minutes before, was brushing his teeth when he suddenly started crying, asked for water and then began vomiting in the hallway outside the bathroom.

When he was done, he calmly asked to take a shower (he didn't need one as he had neatly avoided getting anything on himself, but I suspect he now associates puking with a shower afterward). After a nice, hot shower, we got FunnyKid into bed and prayed he wouldn't throw up all over a bed that doesn't belong to us, a rug that isn't ours and some various antiques and other nice stuff in the room he was staying in.

About half an hour later, FunnyKid called me upstairs and in a fairly calm manner told me he had to throw up again. I rushed him into the bathroom and held him while he threw up into the toilet like a seasoned pro. I denied him a shower after that round and he went back to bed and fell asleep.

Around 11:30, as the Pretend Husband and I were falling asleep, we heard FunnyKid call for us again. I met him in the hallway and again swooped him into the bathroom as he told me he had to throw up again. Another round of puking in the toilet and this time he got the shower he requested because if that's all your poor, sick kid wants, that's what he gets.

I feel like FunnyKid is growing and maturing in so many ways, and waking up to puke is one of them. Not the biggest deal, of course, but it makes for a happy mama who doesn't have to remake a bed for the fourth time and explain to a kid why he's showering at midnight.

The one where I start blogging again...

Oh hi, world.

Remember me? Probably not. But now that my daughter has gone off to college, I figured I'd regale you with years' old stories about her.

OK. Maybe not college.  But she is going to be 3 in three weeks, and I'm FREAKING THE HECK OUT.

I have no idea how that happened. But there are great things about being nearly 3.

1) Diapers and pull-ups are back ups. She's pretty fully potty trained now, so my days of back of the car diaper changes and those moments of sheer panic when I can't find the wipes are about over.
2) I can take her to the movies.
3) She talks. We have full on conversations. And they go something like this:

"Mommy, where are my glass slippers?"
I look around. There are sneakers, crocs, and glitter shoes.  I figured this was a gimme.
"Here you go," I said, handing her the glitter shoes.
"THOSE ARE NOT MY GLASS SLIPPERS, MOMMY!"
OK. So I try the crocs.
"Those are your glass slippers, Mommy-Cinderella. Put them on!"
I looked at the size 8 (toddler) stride rites. Probably not going to fit.
"I think these are too small."
Moment of reflection....
"They are too small mommy. You're the step sister."

This and that (Preschool Edition)

Having a 3 year old (FunnyKid) and a 9 month old (FunnyBoy) means naptime battles, less sleep than I ever thought I'd be able to survive on and some of the funniest moments. These boys make me laugh every day and while being a full-time parent is the hardest job I'll ever have, I'm so, so lucky to be able to do it.

FunnyKid goes to preschool now, is into playing any sport we buy equipment for and is talking like a champ. The other day, we were trying to find a set of blocks and had found all but one. "Oh, there it is," I said, as I spotted the last block under a dresser. FunnyKid replied, "You have good eyes, Mom." (I say that to him a lot and it was funny to learn that he picked up on one of my expressions. And then scary to think about just how much I need to watch what I say around him...)

While FunnyBoy has his moments of screaming displeasure (usually in the middle of the night), he is generally the happiest kid I've ever met. Strangers in stores comment all the time about his huge jack o'lantern smile (he has two teeth on the bottom and three on the top) and his bright blue eyes. A couple of people have dubbed him with the nickname "Blueberry Eyes" for how blue they are (FunnyKid can never remember the name and calls his brother "Strawberry Eyes.")

FunnyKid is mildly obsessed with ponytails. Before his last haircut, he sometimes asked me to make one on top of his head. When I have one in my hair, he will ask me to turn around so he can see my "poy-tail." Then he says, "I kiss it, Mom?" and gives my ponytail a smooch. Weird, but sweet.

FunnyKid is quite the backseat driver. I get all sorts of orders yelled at me, everything from "Green light, go!" (I've learned not to hit the gas when I hear that since it's not always accurate and never takes the fact that there's traffic in front of us into account) to "Slow down, Mom, that's my house." In fact, the kiddo has gotten kind of possessive lately. We recently got a new car that I drive and the Pretend Husband drives the vehicle I previously had. FunnyKid describes it as "Daddy drive my cah. You drive red cah."

While playing in the driveway a few weeks ago, we heard a tapping noise and discovered a woodpecker high up in a nearby tree. FunnyKid had noticed the noise so I was trying to explain to him what a woodpecker is and what it does. While searching the tree to try to spot what was making the noise, FunnyKid suddenly yelled, "that's a big pecker!" This is me praying he doesn't try to recount the story at school.

Not my brightest parenting moment

Ah, toddlers. Who doesn't have the fondest of memories about the temper tantrums, the bedtime battles, the time your kid locked himself in the vault at city hall. Wait, what? Oh yeah, it happened.

On this fateful day, I had both boys with me as I ran into city hall for one quick thing.  As I looked at a computer, FunnyKid ran down a long (fun-looking) ramp next to me that went into the big vault full of city records. Then he ran back up and we headed to the desk to speak to an employee.

As I began speaking to the woman and FunnyBoy began fussing, FunnyKid (the 2.5 year old) saw his opportunity and took off to run back down the ramp into the vault. I picked up the baby carrier and was not too far behind him, telling him to turn around and come back. As I got to the bottom of the ramp, FunnyKid gave me a sly grin... and knocked closed a glass door at the entrance to the vault (a door with no purpose I could figure out since the vault also had one of those huge metal vault doors).

Seeing no knob on the outside of the glass door (just a keyhole), I immediately turned around and went back  to the employee I had been speaking with. "I'm really sorry, but my son just locked himself in the vault. Could you please get the key for the glass door?"

"Uh, I don't think we have a key for that door," the woman replied.

That's when I began to panic. Running back to the door, I smiled and urged FunnyKid to turn the locking mechanism on his side of the glass. Having fun playing our game, the poor kid tried to turn the lock, but wasn't strong enough. Standing there with a toy train in either hand, he watched as two different employees with two different keys each arrived and failed to unlock the door.

That's when a woman in a really nice outfit came rushing down and decided she was going to try to slide under the door (oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the glass door didn't go all the way to the top or the bottom of the door frame, making it even more useless and more confusing about what it was even there for). Despite the panic rising in my chest, that part was kind of funny because the poor, professionally-dressed woman had no chance of fitting through the couple of inches of space beneath the door, but she pressed herself to the floor and tried.

The ending of this story is a little anti-climatic: no firefighters rushing through the door for a dramatic rescue, no having to tell FunnyKid to go hide in the corner while a police officer shot through the door. Nope. Instead, we got FunnyKid to lay down on his side of the door and I reached under and slid him out.

Then we threw some more apologies around and ran out the door while the employees were making phone calls to see if anyone in city hall had a key to the door. In the aftermath, I felt ashamed that FunnyKid was able to get that far away from me and cause some mischief, but I also started to get kind of angry that a city office didn't have a key to the mystery door in its vault. I can think of a couple of (unlikely) scenarios in which that door could swing closed and need to be reopened. In any case, it's a funnier story than the battle FunnyKid and I fought over naptime this afternoon, and if I have to be embarrassed or admit some parenting failures, at least I want a funny story out of it.

Life with two

I read somewhere that the transition from one to two kids is harder than the transition from none to one. Almost eight weeks into our adventure as the parents of two boys, I'm going to agree. While there was a steep learning curve as we figured out what to do with a tiny FunnyKid when he was an infant, the challenges are even greater when we're not only trying to keep FunnyKid happy and healthy, but sustaining a (more helpless) baby as well.

Oh, how life has changed for us. For one thing, I'm spending a lot less money. I haven't taken both boys out very frequently because of flu season and my inability to keep them both entertained and on track in stores. One of my first trips out with both of them was to good ol' Target. I had my list and I had my game plan (FunnyBoy in a wrap on my chest, FunnyKid in the cart). It all went according to plan until I got about ten steps into the store and spied a cute dress under a 70 percent off clearance sign. I hesitated for a second before realizing who I was with and quickly walking past. Browsing, my friends, is a thing of the past.

Another challenge has been FunnyBoy's digestive issues. After too many weeks of hearing him scream for an hour or two every night, we have him on medication. In addition, his doctor told me to drop all soy and dairy from my diet. After extensive research, I can tell you that soy and/or dairy is in EVERYTHING. I spent an hour at the grocery story yesterday reading labels, bought six things (soy free, dairy free butter? sounds delicious!) and spent $20. This couponing, grocery budgeting mama is dying as she writes that sentence. On the bright side, I learned I like almond milk and will probably end up shedding some more pregnancy weight as I'm forced to cut back on most things I ordinarily snack on. On the other hand, I will understand why my friends don't want to spend time with me for awhile because how fun will I be when I can't eat anything other than a handful of peanuts and some fruit?

It probably goes without saying that, as hard as it has been to give up so many foods, it's so worth it to make sure FunnyBoy isn't in pain every night. Overall, he's a sweet kiddo with the biggest smile ever-- well worth not having chocolate, ice cream or a lot of other things for awhile. And I'm getting better at being the mom of two kids. I took them out for a walk in the double stroller the other day and we have already conquered the library. Next up is a restaurant. Wish me luck...

Denying my kid chocolate is where I draw the line....

Last year, our town postponed Halloween amid the ruins that came about from the freak October nor'easter. It was originally postponed until a few days later then again postponed and turned into a "trunk or treat" where cars parked in the high school parking lot and the kids went from car to car to collect candy. Personally, I think that's kind of lame, but I went along with it because it made sense to not have kids trick-or-treating in neighborhoods that still didn't have power or were still unsafe because of the trees that were knocked down.

But this year? This year, I was a rebel. When the town decided to postpone Halloween to Saturday, I fought back. I refused to be held down by the restrictions of society. I looked "the man" in the eye and said, "no!" And then we broke all the rules and went trick-or-treating anyway.

Ok, I'm sure many of you have taken up pet causes that are a lot more worthy than Halloween, but I was looking forward to giving FunnyKid the experience and Saturday doesn't work for us. And our neighborhood has power and no downed trees so no one's safety was at risk.

We had friends over to go with us and I was bound and determined to give the kids a Halloween. My back-up plans included taking them over the town line to a neighborhood with an officially-sanctioned Halloween and having the kids parade around our house and collect candy from adults in different rooms.

Luckily, our neighborhood is full of rebels just like us and they turned their lights on. So we took our St. Bernard, our Tinkerbell(s) and our Peter Pan to about seven houses, made them walk the darkened streets and stuffed winter coats under their costumes-- just how Halloween is meant to be.

And now that everyone is begging for candy for breakfast, my work here is done. But if anyone tries to mess with Thanksgiving, I can promise I'll be leading the charge to keep the government out of our good time.

Not quite the wild weekend of my past, but I'm not complaining....

The Pretend Husband and FunnyKid left town on Friday for the weekend and my wedding rings were off within the hour as I hit the town. Ok, not as bad as it sounds-- I went for a manicure and pedicure to take my mind off how much I missed them which, of course, meant taking my rings off.

While I was kind of lost for the first hour (which included about 10 minutes of sitting in my car trying to stop crying), the rest of the weekend went by fast. And it was fun to be single and carefree again. While there was some cleaning that had to be done and I still had to work, I found some time for sleeping late and getting a massage. But even the cleaning was kind of fun because I was able to do it when I wanted, for as long as I wanted without someone grabbing onto my legs or demanding I put the "choo choo" show on the television.

It was the first time I've ever been away from FunnyKid overnight, but I figure it's good practice for when I'm in the hospital to have his brother or sister. And he had a blast with his cousins and his dad. The PH sent me tons of photos and videos so it felt like I got to be a part of the fun without any of the responsibility.

I told the PH how much I enjoyed the hour to sit and be pampered in the nail salon and he encouraged me to take a break every once in awhile and go for a pedicure or whatever. In talking to the other moms in our playgroup, I realized I am not alone in not asking for time for myself. It's a tough situation because I don't get to see the PH as often as I'd like as it is and when he is home with us, I want us to be together as a family. But I also learned the value of taking a breather from being a mom and having some time to do something for me.

I made sure I enjoyed the heck out of the weekend, not knowing when I'll get one to myself again (while the PH is a superstar dad, I don't see him taking a toddler and an infant away by himself-- and I'm not sure I would either!) But I'm going to make sure I take advantage of the PH's offer in the meantime and get some time out of the house that doesn't involve grocery shopping, playgrounds or the word "no" on repeat. Now that I've tasted it, there's no going back.