July 30, 2012

At least Batman can't smell poop...

Has anyone ever had this thought cross their mind while dining at Perkins?

"I wonder if that Batman taking shots of creamer can smell the poop on my pants?"


Up until yesterday I would have placed that thought in the "it ain't ever gonna happen" column but, then again, up until yesterday I had never had poop on my pants or sat next to a Batman who was trying to pass the time by taking "shots" of creamer.

My story begins with this.... We're working on potty training Rachel.
(insert the standard, "ohhhhhh okay, now I get it" nod from all of you mothers).

Rachel is doing really well with potty training. She's been showing interest in it since she was about 18-months old but we didn't actually start working on anything until a week ago (she just turned 2 1/2 years old). The first day was a disaster, which was to be expected. But, by day two we had both figured out the rules:

Rule Number 1: Never ask if she has to go potty. You just take her when it's time to go.
Rule Number 2: No touching mommy with "pee fingers"
Rule Number 3: Pee in the potty, not in Dora (her pull-ups)

She has woken up every morning with a dry diaper and has also been doing rather well during nap time, and I couldn't be more proud of my little Pooh Bear.

Except that, I'm getting frustrated.

When is this kid going to learn to poop in a potty?! I have tried just about every trick in the book but keep telling myself that eventually she'll get it. I really wish that she would have "gotten it" before church yesterday.

We were about 10 minutes from the end of the service when that familiar kiddo poop smell hit my nose. I looked to my right and realized that we had inadvertently sat next to the sound booth; rats, trapped in. To my left was an older couple that couldn't really move out of my way and beyond them....the center aisle. Oh the dreaded center aisle. I decided the poo problem could wait and began counting down the minutes until the final hymn.

When the service finally ended I picked up my little girl and sprinted (I use that term rather lightly, after all, what pregnant mother carrying a child sprints?) to the ladies restroom. Thankfully the larger more roomy handicapped stall was open. I knew there was a good chance that a herd of older ladies was making their way to the restroom and that they too would want to use this larger space but decided that my situation warranted the additional room, and besides, how long could this possibly take?

As soon as I set Rachel down I realized that this wasn't going to be a quick in-and-out kind of thing. It was going to be a disaster. And, as I tried to free her little body from her Dora pull-up I realized that I was correct....it was a disaster. There was absolutely no way I could get that thing off without the entire contents being dumped onto the floor. I sighed and got to work and then it turned ugly.

Eventually there was a big glob of poop on my pants, Rachel's foot was covered in it, the floor was sporting a pile and the toilet was smeared with it. Don't ask me, I have no idea how this happened in such a short amount of time. To combat the situation I tucked Rachel's dress into her pony tail holder (yes, it was necessary to put it up that high), stuck her on the toilet and gave her strict orders not to move and, for once, she listened to me and sat very very still. I could hear that a line was quickly forming outside the stall so I tried to work fast, but it was too late. Those little old women began to question what was taking so long in the third toilet and some of them were becoming increasingly annoyed that it was still occupied. But, I didn't care. I had my own problems to solve and figured that being covered in poop trumped making them have to use a shorter toilet in a smaller stall.

I finally got everything cleaned up, put Rachel's shoes back on (she insists on using the potty with nothing on below her waist), and emerged from the restroom, which by now, was empty. Jake was waiting for us with a puzzled look on his face. "Where have you been?" he asked, "I was looking all over for you." Oh really? Did you check the handicapped stall in the ladies bathroom? Because that's where we have been for the past 20 minutes. And yes, I'm pretty sure I left my dignity in there and yes, I do smell poop; I'm pretty sure that I left a smear of it somewhere on my pants.

When we got to our Sunday School room I headed straight for the chair in the corner and whispered a little prayer that maybe, just maybe, no one would notice the smell drifting from my part of the room.

After church I was too frazzled to think about making lunch so we decided to head to Perkins for pancakes. I wish I would have remembered to do one thing before we got there...stop at home and change out of my poop covered pants. Oops.

We got seated at a table that was literally surrounded by teenagers who were in town for a comic convention. Enter Batman. He must have been the ringleader of the group because everyone seemed to be enthralled with his ability to chug a shot of creamer and they all followed suit by also giving the amazing, yet death defying, trick a try. Their waitress noticed what was going on but decided that it would be easier to refill the creamers than try to control four tables of costumed teenagers.

Oh yes, did I forget to mention that these teenagers were still wearing their costumes from the night before? I'm sorry, I should never have left out that minor detail. After all, it did add a special little something to our dining experience.

Their food finally arrived and they all settled down for a bit and that's when I began to wonder if Batman could smell my poop-covered pants.

When we left the restaurant we met Batman walking down the street in his cape and I laughed out loud when Rachel exclaimed, "Look mommy, there's a super hero!" Thank goodness he didn't have a super-human sense of smell, and thank goodness none of his friends did either.

Just in case the day needed a little cherry on top, we discovered that our outdoor momma cat, who had given birth the day before, was the proud mommy of not three (as previously believed) but nine new kittens. Yep nine.

And then I felt just a little bit bad about all of my complaining for having to be pregnant in this summer heat...and vowed to be thankful for air conditioning and single births.

July 27, 2012

Happy blogiversary...

Happy Blogiversary to me!
(wait...blogiversary...is that a word? Oh well....)

Wow. I cannot believe that it has already been two years since I started this little blog. As with most blogs, mine began as a place to collect my thoughts and try to regain my sanity after Rachel was born.

And here I sit, two years later, trying to survive one of the hottest summers on record...pregnant.

Apparently my sanity has taken a hit but at least I have collected my thoughts enough to know that I'm nuts.

I have met some fabulous people, been blessed with wonderful friendships, and taken aboard some very generous and kind readers. Thanks everyone!

Here's to another great year!

July 26, 2012

It's all good...

Today we had another ultrasound. I got there a bit early and was actually on my way out the door before my appointment was even scheduled to begin.

Everything looked grand. The placenta has moved 2 whole centimeters in the last few months, which is pretty big bananas around here. This means that baby is healthy, the placenta looks good, and we're about six weeks away from baby!

And then we had the due date conversation....


Oh the due date conversation. Why can't that just be done already? At this point we should all be able to agree on a due date. To a lot of people one week might not seem like a very big deal but when you're trying to schedule a C-section it really can alter things quite a bit.

We're going to stick with the current due date of September 11 (even though some people don't really agree with this) and keep the surgery scheduled for September 6th.

And, after that.... it really doesn't matter what we do because baby will arrive whenever he wants to. If he wants to come "early" so be it (yes baby, please decide to choose that option). But, if he wants to wait until September 6 then okay....we'll go with that.

As for me.... I'm just counting down the weeks until we're finally done. I'm ready to meet this little guy (we saw his chubby cheeks this morning on the ultrasound) and judging by how low he is right now I would say that he's about ready to meet us too.

July 23, 2012


This morning I was trying to pre-live my maternity leave in my mind while I was getting dressed (I was daydreaming about wearing sweat pants and old ratty t-shirts every day for a few weeks) when I thought of something quite profound, at least it was profound to me anyway.

Has it ever occurred to you that Stay-at-Home-Moms don't get maternity leave?
(or am I the last one to the boat on this?)


I cannot believe that I've never realized this before.

I get to think about maternity leave with my second one as the same way it was with my first. I only have to take one child to the doctor. I only have to concentrate on feeding and taking care of one child for the majority of the day. And, if I allow myself to, I really can rest while he's sleeping.

And all of this is possible because I'm a full-time working mom who can take my other child to our regular daycare while I stay home with the baby.

And when this thought hit me this morning, I truly felt blessed.

I feel blessed because I will actually get a maternity leave. And, for the most part, I might get a chance to recuperate from this whole "being pregnant" thing.

How in the world do SAHMs do it?

July 18, 2012

Okay, I lied....

I have to print a retraction to my previous post, the 33 weeks update.

I know that due dates don't mean anything and that the baby will come whenever it's good and ready to come but....

I just came from another doctor appointment and it's official....

They're moving my due date back to September 11.

So, that means that I'm still at 32 weeks.


When it's 110 degrees outside and you have a baby sitting on your lungs every day that moves you closer to your due date is a bonus. So, to have to go backwards at this point in the game is rather disgusting.

But, on the other hand I'm thankful that my doctors believe that, for the most part, we're out of the woods and will make it to the end of my pregnancy without any problems.

And that's wonderful news.

But still.... September 11? January 2014 sounds about as close to today as September 11.

And I get to grumble about this because it's hot and we have to curtail our energy at work and my fan is broken. So, to this I say Bah-Hum-Bug!

July 17, 2012

33-weeks update...

33 weeks is odd.

I'm far enough along that I've had enough of this whole pregnancy thing and I am so very ready to be done. But, it's really not far enough along to wish that I would just give birth already.

At 33 weeks I finally look pregnant (at least I hope I do). And here are a few other fun bits of information that I'm sure you're all dying to know...

1. Baby apparently feels perfectly comfortable in an oblong position. I can see something, either the rear end or head (?) pointing directly out of my stomach.

2. Out of all of the summers that I could be pregnant I had to choose this one. Last summer we went above 100 degrees about five times; this summer we have spent at least a month well over that mark and July is only half-way done. Yes, I'm miserable.

3. They're b-a-c-k...the morning yucks. This happened with my last pregnancy too. For some reason I just can't seem to shake this whole morning sickness thing. And, let me tell you, it's a lot harder to pray to the porcelain god with a big tummy in the way.

4. Holy cats, am I ever exhausted! I don't remember being this tired last time around. Perhaps it doesn't help that I'm not sleeping very well right now. It's just too hard to get (and stay) comfortable and, of course, it's hot!!!!

5. Due to the extreme crazy weather that we have had this year, my garden is on track to be done producing anything of merit in about a month. That means we're working harder right now to get everything canned and frozen before it rots. On the flip side....we'll be done a lot earlier than usual and I think that sounds fabulous!

6. Rachel seems to be just as ready as I am to meet her new baby brother. She's tired of not being able to play with mommy and it's a good thing that she has a little tiny be-hind because there isn't a whole lot of room left on my lap to snuggle on, which is quite frustrating for her. I do, however, see at least one snag in her perception of the situation.... I have yet to figure out how to explain to her that she isn't going to be able to play football with her baby brother for quite some time.

7. Jake is also ready for this little guy's arrival. Plus, he's looking forward to having less responsibilities around the house. I don't know what I would have done without him and his ability to take orders this summer. He is my hero.

8. The way I see it.... even though I have 7 weeks until d-day I'm pretty sure I'll never make it that far so, really, I only have 6 weeks left. And, no one really expects anything much from you during those last few weeks so actually, I just need to get through 5 more weeks. And 5 weeks is pretty close to a month and some months are short, like 28 days- which is 4 weeks, so if you think about it, I only have about 4-5 weeks. There. I like the way that sounds.

9. I cannot remember the last time I put on a pair of socks. The last time I wore anything other than my flip-flops was June 20, which was the day I bought said pair of flip-flops.

10. The other day Jake asked me out on a date, which I thought was absolutely adorable until I realized that his idea of a "date" wasn't quite what I had in mind. We're going to go see Batman on Friday and he's super excited. Me? I'm just praying that my butt doesn't get too sore.

Take care everyone!

July 10, 2012

Excuse me, are you pregnant...

Is it ever okay to ask a woman when her due date is?

Or, perhaps even more controversial, should you ever ask a woman if she's pregnant?

According to my friends and I....no. Never.

Granted, our group might have been a bit biased given that the majority of us having this discussion were either pregnant or holding a newborn but still.... it's just not a good idea.

When I was in labor with Rachel (yes, in labor) a nurse in my doctor's office asked me if I was expecting. I responded with, "Expecting what?" I mean, how else would you answer such a stupid question?

But, for those of you who insist on being in the know.... here are a few questions you might ask yourself before you ask that lovely lady if she's pregnant or just fat?

1. Is she in line for chicken fingers and fries?

2. Does she waddle, walk slowly, or gasp for air while heading up a flight of stairs?

3. Is she wearing flip-flops with an otherwise dressy-dress?

4. Is she of child-bearing age?

5. Does she have swollen ankles, fat fingers, and a flush complexion?

6. Is she barfing, gagging, coughing, sneezing, and/or blowing her nose (perhaps even simultaneously)?

7. Can she bend over and touch her toes?

8. Does she carry Tums in her purse?

9. Is she holding a newborn?

And perhaps most importantly....

10. Is it really your business and if so, does she have a friend you can ask instead?

July 3, 2012

Yep, she's two...

I will never be Mother of the Year, and I'm okay with that. But, I may have hit a new low- even for me- this morning....

I confessed to Jake that I would rather work tomorrow than spend the day with our grumpy little girl.

I'm awful. I know.

She's two. I'm seven months pregnant in the middle of the summer. We're all hot and tired and bored and stressed and frustrated and grumpy. Close your eyes and just imagine the boat-loads of fun we're having at our house.

Work has been very stressful lately but at least in my office it's quiet. My coworkers don't get mad at me when I can't pull them in a wagon or play catch outside. There is never a battle going on over my lunch break- I can eat in silence without having to scold the person next to me for putting her feet on the table or throwing an apple. When I ask someone what they need help with I'm given a straight answer instead of just a shake of the head followed by a tantrum on the floor. I never have to force anyone to pick-up their toys or come to me for a diaper change. It's just....easier. Most days.

Rachel is one smart cookie and she knows that the times, they are a changing. She sees the crib in her bedroom and the clothes hanging in her closet and knows her time as the only child in the house is coming to an end. And she doesn't like it. She doesn't like being told that soon she'll have to learn to get her own milk, clear her own plate from the table, and share her daddy.

Life has a funny way of throwing change at us and it doesn't matter if we're two or thirty-two... it's difficult. So tonight when we pick up Rachel from daycare I'm going to say my daily prayer that she'll be in a good mood (for at least the next few hours). Except this time I'll add one more request... that we will all learn to get through this together.