A new rule?

Sean was pretending to pour juice and drink it.

Sean:  Mommy!  Do you want some juice?!

Me: Sure!

Sean grabbed his penis with his left hand.  He pretended to hold a cup with his right hand, placing it at the end of his penis.  He then proceeded to make a water-running noise.

Me: Uh, Sean?  What are you doing?

Sean:  I’m making you juice!

Me:  Out of your penis?

Sean:  Yes!  I make juice come out of my penis!

Me: Um, juice doesn’t come out of penises.

Sean:  It comes out of my penis!  Want some?!

Me:  No, thank you!

A new penis rule?  We don’t pretend drinkable fluid comes out of our penises.

A Morning of Potty

I was awoken by Sean telling me, “Mommy!  I need to go potty!”

I rolled over and undid his diaper.

Only Sean meant to say, “MOMMY!  I’m peeing!”

With my hand thoroughly drenched, I was wide awake and shouting, “GO TO THE BATHROOM!  RUN!  RUN!  RUN!”

Maybe that wasn’t the best phrase to use.  Or tone.  But he ran and finished in the potty.

He received a candy.

For the next three hours, he tried peeing in the potty.  Tinkling a few drops and demanding candy.  Sorry, little dude, you have to actually empty your bladder to get a treat.

As I rehunted the Internet for my mom’s frosting recipe (because I lost it after she gave it to me and then I found it last night on the Internet, printed it out, and promptly lost it again because that’s how I roll), I heard the sound of running water.  Running water hitting the carpet.  I spun around to see Sean emptying his bladder on the carpet.  ACK!

GO TO THE POTTY!  RUN!  RUN!  RUN!

Again.  Not the best response.  So I flipped the bird at the computer because it just wouldn’t yield the recipe in a timely manner and went to find paper towels and Simple Green.  Sonofabitch.

An hour later, I was stirring frantically as I made little stepping stones from a package.  Apparently they gave me QuickSet instead of Plaster of Paris because the stone was setting before I was even done stirring.  I wanted to make handprints on the stone, but we’re settling for painting them.  As I was stirring, Sean came up to me.

“Mommy!  I went green poop!  I went green poop in the potty!”

“WHAT?!!!!”

Ok, my responses really do suck.

I jumped up.

“Evan!  Stir the QuickSet!  Sean!  Where’s your poop? ! Do you need to poop more?!”

There was a tiny log on the floor.  Sean ran before me into the bathroom.  I remembered Evan didn’t replace the seat after his own bowel movement on the regular toilet eariler in the morning.  Crap.  As I ran into the bathroom, ready to do damage control.  I noticed two things.  The seat was on the training potty.  And there was a big log in the potty.

My son rocks!

So we celebrated for ten seconds before I realized I left a four-year-old stirring QuickSet.  Damn.  I ran back, finished making the stepping stone, ran to get the celebratory candy, cleaned up the poop, called my parents for a celebration call, called Sean to flush his own poop, and thanked God for not making me crazy enough to take a picture of the poop before it was flushed down.

So two steps back, one step forward.  It’s a dance.

Friday’s recap 5/28

1.  Want your baby to wake up?  Start doing a chore or writing a post.

2. A great birthday party only needs a cake, a pool, and two uncles.  Gifts are just icing.

3. Sometimes nagging actually works.

4. Evan makes the best Captain Recycle.

5. Want to freak out a med student?  Allow her to hold your 6 week baby while you get dressed.

6. Did you know you can spoil a six week old baby?  Neither did I, but ask my grandma.

7. 4 year olds remember everything you say and repeat it back.  At the most inconvenient times.

8. Want to entertain your kids?  Pull out some of your old toys.

9. God, I was full of myself as a teenager.

10. When the boys are sick, they need lots of attention and don’t fight.  When they’re well, they fight and therefore need a lot of attention.

Merely Surviving

Last night I went to a parenting class.  It’s a free six week course, and they’re offering childcare.  Apparently, I’ll go anywhere and do anything for free childcare.  While I want to save the parenting classes for another post, I was struck by what one of my friends said in class.  She felt disconnected and just surviving.  She was lost.  And that broke my heart.

Then I realized how disconnected I felt from my boys.  I know I’m in a different place.  I’ve got Aidan tearing out huge chunks of my time because he has to as the infant.  But I look at what I did today.  At first I was pretty unhappy.  We worked on workbooks and played I Spy.  What the Hell?  That’s all the fun I had with the boys?  That’s all I did to interact with them other than to nag them to clean up, to eat, and to get dressed. 

But then I started really going through my memory.  Sean helped me make blueberry muffins as Aidan swung in his swing.  Evan helped me bathe Aidan when Aidan spit up all over.  I read several books to the boys.  I cuddled with Sean as I fed Aidan.  Evan and I discussed his dreams.  I watched them build in the sand.  And of course, I nagged them, dumped into a bathe, convinced them to eat dinner, and did a few chores to keep the house somewhat clean.

That’s not all I want to do.  We haven’t done a craft in weeks.  Or a science experiment.  I can’t remember the last time we played cars or a board game.  Again, I get that Aidan comes first and that sometimes I have to do things to survive, like turning on the TV again because I need them not to try to kill each other again while I feed the baby.  I just know that if I don’t have fun with the boys I’ll just be stuck on surviving, and I can’t just go day by day like that.  I need to be connected. 

So I thought maybe I should try to make getting things done more fun, like making breakfast with Sean and bathing Aidan with Evan.  Maybe I shouldn’t be rushing to get things done all the time.  Maybe I should be enjoying the adventure of it all.  That and we really need to get back to a morning routine so that I’m not shouting like a crazy woman to get everyone dressed and out the door so we’re not late again.

What I miss

There are a few things I miss now that I’m a parent.  A day off.  A strike on chores.  A flat stomach.  Lesierly shopping.  But I mainly miss reading for hours on end. 

I loved taking an afternoon, curled up on a bed or sofa, reading a great book, devouring every page.  , Moving only when I needed a bathroom breakI would have drinks and snacks in easy reach.  Hell, sometimes I would even ignore the phone.

God, I envy people who can do that.

As my mom and I sat through story time, we learned that we too could enroll in a summer reading program like the boys.

Me: (whispering) We should do that.

Mom: (whispering) Maybe we could get a pencil and stickers too.

See, where I get my sarcasm?

Me: (whispering)  We would probably get discount coupons.

Mom: (whispering) Sure, why not?

I nodded.

Mom: (whispering) You know people get all impressed when someone says she read fifty books.  But I read.  What?  About a hundred.

Me: (whispering) At least.

Mom: (whispering) I go through a book in three days.

It’s a sad world when a girl envies her mother and glares at her mom’s back during preschool story time.

Parenting Rules

Due to illness at the Fae household, we’ve been watching a lot of movies and television. All kid friendly. (I’m starting to hate the damn TV.) One of the movies I TiVoed that we are watching over and over (and over and over) is Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs. But on the sixth viewing, I realized that Buck’s rules are the perfect parenting rules to live by.

Rule #1: Always listen to Buck
Or Always listen to Mom. We don’t talk to hear our own voices. Ok, I do. But what we tell our kids (and husbands) needs to be heeded. We make up rules for a reason. We tell stories for a reason. We command for a reason.

Rule #2: Always stay in the middle of the trail.
Parenting is a give and take kind of game. Everything needs to be in moderation. If you’re too lenient, your child will be spoiled and walk over you. If you’re too strict, your kid will rebel and resent you. You have to moderate the tv, the computer, the sports, the candy, the vegetables, everything.

Rule #3: He who has gas must travel at the back of the pack.
Well, that just goes without saying. I don’t know how my kids produce so much stench when I know what they are eating. It’s weird.  And gross.

Rule #4: We should all have our heads examined.
Because we decided to have kids. We decided to raise kids. We’re trying to moderate our parenting. We’re up to our eyeballs in crazy situations we we should never have got ourselves in to.  Lord help us.

Rule #5: Rule #2 can be ignored if it is a female involved or possibly a cute dog.
I don’t do chocolate in moderation. I’m sorry. I don’t. It’s why I don’t own a chocolate fountain. I would swim in it. Sometimes you have to ignore the rules, bend them and break them. When the boys are sick, I hook them up to the TV; if I didn’t, they wouldn’t sit still long enough to rest and recoop. I’m sure I can think of half a dozen times that I ignored #2. Everything is in perspective.

You know I just make up these rules as I go along.
Just like the rest of my parenting. Just like the penis rules.

These Mom Tips were brought to you by Parenting by Dummies (who can’t say I don’t try to participate in her themes).

It changes

We’re still in the midst of potty training Sean. 

Naked = good progress

Training pants = no progress

So obviously we let the kid walk around naked as much as possible.  Since he’s naked, he HAS to hold on to his penis as though it just may disappear if he doesn’t have a good grip on it.  He is in violation of Penis Rule #1.  You may play with your penis alone and in your room.  But he’s back to playing with it before I can even finish the damn sentence.

Then yesterday he ran into the room with tears in his eyes.

Sean: Mommy!  It’s big!

Me: What’s big?

Sean: My penis!  My penis is big!

Sean, congratulations.  You have your first erection.  It won’t be so scary when you get older.

And if you’re wondering, as soon as it went down, he was pleased again.

Things I learned this week 5/21

1. Sean sounds adorable with a stopped-up nose.  A. Dorable.

2. I willingly throw all enviromental sensibilities out when it comes to weeds and Sean’s allergies.

3.  I miss typing with two hands.

4. Evan inherited the Friendly Giant’s (aka Uncle M) gag reflex; a pathetic gag reflex brought on by other people’s vomit or poop-smell. 

5. I’m not sure if people are flattering me or if it’s the standard phrase, but it’s weird how many people keep telling me how thin I looked.  Honestly I’m still eating chocolate as much as possible.  Or maybe I was incrediably fat when pregnant.

6. I’m starting to really despise children’s television programming.

7.  I’m starting to really hate children’s illnesses.

8. Health insurance companies are EvIl!

9. With as much CSI and Law and Order I’m watching, I’m starting to think I missed my calling.   Of course, no police agency can enhance a cell phone video to find a perfect picture of the murderer in the mirror ten feet behind and two feet to the right of the victim.

10.  I’m going to say it.  My kids are damn cute.  There.  It’s out there.  I said it.  I’ll stick by it.

My Mother’s Day gift from The Husband and the boys.  Granted, chocolate would have been nice too.

A special thank you to Jane from They Call Me Jane for taking the time to email me how to post video months ago when I complained that I didn’t know how.

Just when you thought it was safe

Now Sean has a fever.  And Aidan has colic.  And Evan . . . well, he’s just Evan.  And Sean is having problems remembering to get to the potty, peeing all over my mom’s family room.  All.  Over.  The.  Floor.  Like a finger painting.  And Aidan cries so long that I actually run out of songs to sing as I pace him.  And Evan . . . um, he’s loving doing his workbook, insisting on doing seven pages.  And . . . ok, I actually think this isn’t that bad.  I could rant about The Husband, but I’m sure that’ll bore the few readers I have.  I could rant about where my readers went, but since I can’t comment on everyone’s post lately, I’ll assume they can’t comment on mine or my stats are off.  I could rant about my health insurance company, but I don’t have the time.  But that day will becoming.  Bastards.  And believe me, I’ll name names.  And my mom is asking me to find a pickle recipe from Martha Stewart.

It’s a birthday

All Sean wanted for his birthday was a Kit Fisto (check), a Batman (since we already had two, I got a noisy Batmobile that drives on its own), a robot (couldn’t find one), and a bike (we just learned about balance bikes a couple days ago, too late to get one for the big day).

Evan informed Sean that he already had a Batman, a robot, and a bike.

The argument that ensued had me reaching for the Advil and threatening time out if Evan didn’t stay quiet.  It’s Sean’s birthday; he can ask for whatever he wants.  Getting it is another story that I have to deal with as the parent.

So instead of a robot and bike, I bought shirts, a Lego set, a dragon and a knight, and two sets of a sword and a shield. 

Yesterday was Seanny Day!  Chocolate chip pancakes, McDonald’s lunch, and pizza for dinner.  Presents all through the day.  And I spent the half an hour of hands-free Aidan time (because for some reason Aidan didn’t want to be put down) making brownies from scratch (which means I didn’t get to finish a post I’ve been working on). 

And all day Sean proudly told us he was “Three!”

Now if we could only get him to tell us he needs to pee before he pees his bed.

Want to read Sean’s Birth Story?  Do you have a half hour?  Was it really three years ago?