Potty training on the horizon?

This morning, seconds before my alarm went off, and about 15 minutes before I usually trudge down the hall to wake up Nick, I heard the sweetest little voice over the baby monitor saying "Uh oh!" on repeat.

I looked at the monitor to see Nick standing at the front corner of his crib, one foot pushing down the bumpers, a stance he has perfected over the past 18 or so months since he first figured out how to pull up in his crib.

Seeing as he wasn't actually crying, I chose to attempt to ignore his calls and tried to close my eyes for those last few seconds before I knew my alarm would blare.

But the whispers of "Uh oh!" soon turned into full on calls of "UH OH!!!!" and I thought maybe he had dropped his beloved bear over the side of the crib - which I knew would only end in a sobbing mess of tears, so I yanked myself out of bed - still pants less mind you - and wandered into Nick's room.

As soon as I pushed open his door, he grinned and said "UH OH!" and pointed right to his butt.  To which I said "did you poop??"  And he gleefully responded "UH HUH!"

This isn't the first time he's told me that he pooped.  We've had instances in recent weeks where he's pooped, and someone has caught a whiff of it, and when asked "Nick, did you poop?" he'll nod yes and point to his rear end.  But this was the first time he seemingly "announced" it and actually "asked" to be changed.

I, for one, think this is bittersweet.  While yes, I'd love for Nick to be potty trained and no longer have to worry about the threat of pink-eye when the water splashes up in my face as I drop yet another one of his monstrous turds into the toilet, I know nothing about peeing with a pe*nis.  Pooping in the toilet?  I've got that covered.  Wiping?  Check. Flushing?  Check.  But standing to pee, or worse, trying to point a little weenie downwards while sitting?  Not my forte.

And there's the added joy of the fact that Nick thinks the removable basin of his practice potty actually makes a better hat than somewhere to take a #2. I foresee a lot of "life's bleachable moments" in our near future.

Not to mention potty training is just one more step in the direction towards being an active member of society and no longer being my itty bitty baby boy.  Until, of course, he starts grabbing his ass in Target screaming about needing to "take a BM" (what, your mom didn't call it that too?) and I'm left standing there half mortified and half grateful that I'm still needed.

Motherhood is such a glamorous job.

Maybe I'll leave potty training up to Todd.  At least the peeing-while-standing part of it...

Wait...who?

Conversations with a toddler who is VERY vocal, but not verbal, yet understands EVERY.THING can be pretty hilarious, and sometimes downright head-scratching.  Case in point, last night the following conversation ensued between my mom and Nick:

Gramma:  "Nick, I love you!  Do you love Gramma?"

Nick:  "Uh Huh!"

Gramma: "Do you love mommy?"

Nick: "Uh huh!"

Gramma:  "Do you love Boss?"

Nick: "Uh huh!"

Gramma:  "Do you love Daddy?"

Nick:  "UH HUH!"

Gramma:  "Do you love Gramma Ardie?"

Nick: "Uh huh!"

Gramma:  "hmm...do you love...Michael?"

Nick: "mmm hmmm!"

Us:  "wait...who's Michael??"

Who cares...Nick loves him, too!

New duds

--8 new polos
--2 new muscle tees
--13 new pairs of shorts (one with tiny American flags all over them - adorbs!)
--13 new graphic and solid tees
--1 new pair of swim trunks (me thinks we need to add a few more in this category)
--3 new sets of footie pj's (here, too)
--And 2 new pairs of jeans

And this picture doesn't even do it all justice. Because while we have a million dollar camera, I only take pics from the convenience of my cell phone.

Looks like I'll be spending my remaining afternoon sorting through Nicks clothes.

Who said dressing little boys wasn't fun??! (Ok, at one time I said it - but I retract that statement!)

I couldn't have planned this if I tried

Nick woke up around 4:45am this morning, and thought it would be a good idea to run his sippy cup of water along the slats of his crib like an inmate singing the blues.  Totally irritating when you're trying to sleep. 

Todd had already gotten up for work and was downstairs in the shower (yes, he has to shower in the basement bathroom these days while our master bath is torn apart for the re-do, but that's an entirely separate post for another day), so I did what I thought was the most logical solution -- hopped out of bed, stumbled towards Nick's room, grabbed him out of his crib, and brought him back to our room for snuggles (and the hope that he would go back to sleep for a couple of hours).

When I woke up to my alarm two hours later, I looked over to see this:

Sweetest thing ever.  Nose-to-nose.  Little arms intertwined.  My heart?  Exploded.

Not sure I could love these two more.

Weekend in review

We had a great weekend...very low key and relaxing, but nobody was sick, so that instantly qualifies it as a great time in my book.

Sadly, I didn't take many pictures this weekend because it was somewhat uneventful, and - shockingly enough - I somehow managed to NOT have my phone in my hand at all times.  Which was equally as satisfying.  Nice to unplug a bit every now and then.

Saturday we all woke up around 8:00am, and started out the day quietly with Nick doing a lot of playing (lately he is completely enamored with all of his Jake and the Neverland Pirate ships) and demanding that I clean (as soon as the vacuum comes out, he becomes quite the slave driver).  So I cleaned the house - well, in all honesty, just the main level - while Nick pointed out specs of dirt on the floor that I missed.  Around 11:15, I could tell that Nick was getting very tired and was ready to nap, so I quickly fed him lunch - which he ate, thank goodness - and thought "well, guess I'll try putting him down in his crib".  See - Nick rarely naps in his own bed on the weekends.  Typically we're on the go, running errands and doing things, so Nick tends to nap in the car or stroller.  Usually he'll fall asleep in the car just as we're getting home, so one of us will carefully get him out of his car seat and let him sleep on our chest on the couch.  But Todd was working on the master bath and I had a meeting with Nick's speech therapist and our caseworker at noon, and knew that Nick couldn't be sleeping on either of us, so to his bed he went.

And damn if he didn't fall right to sleep!  It was like all of the stars aligned.  That, and he must have been exhausted.

When Nick woke up from his nap, we loaded up the car with our old Snap 'n Go, and drove it over to Lori's house, to borrow when her baby boy makes his debut (which should be this week!!).

Then we came home, played some more, made dinner (which again, Nick finally ate some of), read a TON of books, and then got Nick ready for bed.  After Nick went to bed, Todd and I watched Pitch Perfect.  And we really enjoyed it!

Sunday was another late wake up - around 8:30am.  We hurriedly got dressed and decided we would go out for breakfast.  After breakfast, we had a list of errands to run, and headed to Bed Bath & Beyond.  They didn't open until 10:00am, so we sat in the parking lot for about 20 minutes (along with about 10 other families...amazing how desperate people were to get their Sunday shopping started).  After BB&B, we headed over to the mall as I needed something at Sephora and Todd needed to go to Sears.  But once again, we were about 30 minutes too early, so we decided to do something I never thought I'd have the gall to do.  We took Nick to the mall play-place.  Germ city.  There were tiny bodies, and bare feet, and sticky fingers, and runny noses, and coughs galore.  And I took off Nick's shoes and threw him to the wolves.

Todd and I both exclaimed how helpless we felt watching Nick try to climb all of the little trains and slides.  He's still so tiny and slightly unbalanced.  Not to mention he is a very timid and cautious little guy - content to watch the bigger kids jump and fall all over the place.  But when he attempts to climb something himself, he does so very carefully - taking his time - and often getting bumped off by a faster, bigger kid.  But Nick seemed to enjoy himself and Todd and I both knew it was good for him to have us "let go" a little, while simultaneously letting him burn off a little energy.

Immediately after he was finished in the play-place, we wiped him down from head to toe with antibacterial wipes (we swear by Johnson's antibacterial wipes - and buy them in bulk at Costco), and then doused him in hand sanitizer.  Mama can't afford another week of illness. 

We finished our errands at the mall, then headed home where I fed Nick lunch and put him down again for a nap in his bed.  Two days in a row!  I'm pretty sure I hit the lottery.

While Nick napped, Todd and I loaded up my dad's pick-up truck with all of the tile, drywall, etc. from the Master bath demolition, so he could take it to the dump. 

Then Nick and I spent a few hours in the basement playing with every single one of his toys.  We played grocery store (where Nick would hand me a play shopping bag and proceed to bring me every single piece of play food and toss it in the bag.  rinse.  repeat.)  We sorted shapes, named colors, played trains and cars, rode on every single bike/car/bus/wagon/ride along toy in the basement, and jumped on the mini trampoline.  To say I was exhausted was an understatement.

I made spaghetti for dinner and Nick not only ate an entire plateful, he actually asked for seconds!  After last week's stress of Nick not wanting to eat anything, plus gagging and sometimes vomiting anything he ate, this was a huge triumph for not just him, but me as well.  I was so excited to see him eat so much!  And it must have filled him up, too, seeing as when he went to bed, he promptly passed out.

It was a quiet weekend, full of normalcy and limited excitement, but sometimes those are my favorite types of weekends.  The ones where I just enjoy my little family, and soak in the moments as a mommy of a two-year old.  Even if it meant reading "Pajama Time" six times in a row.  Bliss.

A weekend of sickness

It all started last week.  Wednesday, to be exact.  We FINALLY had a snow day.  The first real, legitimate snowfall since Nick was born.  His first time seeing a true accumulation, and being big enough to play in it.

On Wednesday morning, Nick woke up happy and cheerful -- possibly because he wasn't being jarred awake by the shrill "good morning!" I'm usually singing out while simultaneously ripping him from the comfort of his warm bed and jamming him into some clothes far less comfortable than his footie pj's, and forcing him to brush his teeth while still wiping the sleepies from his eyes.  Nope - Wednesday morning was a snow day.  The government was closed, and daddy got to stay home with us.  So we all took our time getting up -- watched a little Dora in bed -- lazily ate our breakfast while playing in the living room.  I could hear that Nick was sounding a bit congested, but I chose to ignore it, and blame it on the change in air-pressure.

By 10am, we were ready to go outside and play in the snow.   We bundled Nick up (which might as well have been performing water-torture on him, as he whined through the entire layering process), and plopped him outside in the snow, armed with all of our cameras to make sure we well-documented the entire ordeal.

Nick L-O-V-E-D the snow.  He loved watching the neighborhood kids build snowmen and igloos and use their giant snow shovels.  He was excited when they let him borrow their saucer and daddy pushed him (every so gently) down the hill on a sled.  And he cried and protested when it was time to come back in - the redness of his nose & cheeks, combined with the numbness of his fingers & toes, was no match for the fun he was having in the snow.

Fortunately we were able to convince him that the warmth of being inside the house, combined with a few episodes of "Little Einsteins" was just as appealing as being outside.  He ate a good lunch, and then promptly took a good nap.

BUT.  When he woke up from his nap?  He was scalding hot.  I took his temperature at least 27 times, and continuously got a reading between 101.6 - 102.2.  I gave him a dose of Motrin to try and bring it down, and thanked my lucky stars that a)our pediatrician's office was still open in the snow storm and b)we already had Nick's two year well check scheduled for that evening.

At 4pm, we ventured off to the doctor.  By the time we got there, Nick was happy and playing again, and when they took his temp, it was down to 99.0.  The doctor said his ears, throat and lungs all looked and sounded good, but that he had a lot of congestion in his nose and was probably getting a cold.

By Thursday, Nick's fever was still high.  I couldn't take him to daycare with a high fever, so I had to resort to keeping him home.  I had an important conference call that afternoon and a lot of work to catch up on seeing as I sort of took the day off for the snow day, so mom sweetly agreed to take Nick for a few hours so I could work.  I took him to her house, and went back home to work.  When I picked him up that afternoon, she said he didn't want to eat any lunch, and woke up pretty cranky from his nap.  He still felt warm.

On Friday, his fever seemed to have dissipated.  I had a big work meeting downtown that I had to go to, and no other choice but to take Nick to daycare.  He seemed well enough, so off he went.  But at 2:30pm, the babysitter called to tell me he woke up from his nap very upset, wouldn't stop crying, and felt very warm.  I told her I'd be there ASAP, hopped in the car, called the peds office, and made an appointment for 5pm.

Nick looked sick when I picked him up, and I knew he at least had a very bad cold.  But the fact that he had a fever for a few days, that he couldn't seem to shake - considering he had never had much of a fever at all before - was leading me to believe there was something more going on.  We got to the doctor's office and Nick immediately started crying.  I'm pretty sure he's finally figured out that the doctor's office isn't all fun games & toys in the waiting area...it usually ends in either having a stick shoved down your throat, or a needle jabbed in your arm.

No sooner did the doctor come back into our room and look in Nick's ears did she exclaim "oh, he's definitely got a bad ear infection - in both ears".  Poor baby.  After looking in his throat, Nick couldn't stop crying and worked himself up so much that he vomited all over his shirt.  I had to take off his shirt and take him home in just his jacket.  But not without stopping at CVS to pick up his amoxicillin first!

We went to CVS and shopped for about 45 minutes while the prescription came through the computer and then got mixed up.  My first clue that Nick felt like absolute crud?  He didn't protest when I put him in the stroller, waved my phone away when I offered it to him to play with, and promptly passed out (sitting upright!) within 5 minutes of being in CVS. 

He somehow managed to sleep really well that night, which could only be attested to the fact that being sick really takes it out of you.

We spent the rest of the weekend hiding out on the couch, playing cars, watching Dora and Little Einstein's and Mickey Mouse, and eating nothing but yogurt melts.  By Sunday afternoon, Nick really seemed to be on the mend.  So Sunday around 5pm, I loaded him into the car with me to go grab us McDonald's for dinner.  I was certain he would want to eat some salty french fries and chicken nuggets (don't judge - when your kid hasn't eaten in days, you'll try anything).  He actually did eat more than I expected, but about 20 minutes after we finished dinner, I started to feel like crap.

And then it happened.  Everything started coming out.  Of both ends.  Pure hell.  From about 6pm - midnight, I couldn't control what was coming out of me.  I proceeded to spend the next 36 hours in bed.  My back ached so bad, all of my muscles were sore, and my head was throbbing so hard that at one point I was pretty sure I could hear the headboard to our bed pounding in rhythm with my head.  I was completely miserable. 

Todd was a Godsend.  He went into work on Monday morning at 4am so he could get some things done and get back home before Nick and I were even out of bed.  He got Nick up and dressed and took him to daycare.  He came home with Gatorade for me and continuously checked on me all day.  He picked Nick up from daycare and played with him, fed him dinner, gave him a bath, and then held and rocked him to sleep when he wouldn't go to bed.  It was killing me because I have done Nick's bedtime routine for the last who-knows-how-many months, and I was pretty sure Nick was protesting bedtime because he didn't understand why mommy wasn't spending time with him.  Heartbreaking.

But this morning, I'm feeling better.  Nick seems better.  And we're all seemingly on the mend. I took Nick to daycare, which took every ounce of energy I could muster, but we made it.  And I've since had a little to eat and drink and am starting to feel less weak.  My headache is almost completely gone and I have no more nausea, thank goodness.

Todd called to check on me and when I told him I was trying to clean up a bit he said "I'm sorry...that's what happens when mom's out of commission!"  Then he said "please don't do too much...keep resting."  I married a good one, that's for sure.  I'm not sure how I would've survived the past 36 hours without him. 

Now all that's left is to keep my fingers crossed that neither Nick or Todd come down with whatever stomach virus I had...well that, and to Lysol the crap out of all of our toilets!

Learning to enjoy the ride

Parenting truly is a roller coaster.  One minute you're jumping up and down, clapping like a buffoon as your toddler successfully goes down the playground slide by himself, the next minute you're tearing up because you can't believe how big he's gotten, and the next minute you're watching as his head practically spins around in anger because some other toddler had the nerve to get in HIS swing, that he clearly wasn't even using. 

It's the in-between gaps on the roller coaster though that I have the hardest time slowing down and enjoying.  The level spots, where the track is even and we're not doing anything spectacular, but nobody is having a meltdown, either.  The waiting in line for the next ride, so to speak.  That's the most difficult part for me to figure out how to parent correctly.

When we go out to restaurants, it's inevitable that Nick is going to get cranky or antsy quickly.  For starters, he's related to my mom - meaning he's bound to have a little a.d.d., and can't ever sit still.  Throw in the sheer fact that he's just two years old, and we're guaranteed to need distractions in order to enjoy a public meal as a family.  Sometimes that means reading books to him through the entire meal.  Other times it means letting him go to town on making his plate an actual work of art - mushing it all into one giant lump.

Or how about when we go shopping.  Nick has officially declared that he hates riding in the shopping cart (unless it's in the big part where most of your purchases need to go, and even then, it's only so he can stand up and attempt to cart surf, promising a panicked mommy and a cracked skull.)  We've tried the "you take the cart, I'll push the kid in the stroller" routine a few times, but he's also decided the stroller is lame and tires of it far too quickly.  Usually one of us ends up pushing the cart or stroller while the other one attempts to corral Nick by either holding him as long as he'll let us, or chasing him frantically through the aisles as other store patrons look on sympathetically and the store clerks glare at us in hopes that we'll be leaving soon.  Occasionally an empathetic shopper will smile wistfully at our toddler running rampant and pat us on the shoulder saying "they grow up all too quickly...*sigh*".

And it's so cliche, but it's so true.  They really do grow up all too quickly. 

It's those times that Nick is making a mess at a restaurant or giggling as he runs up and down the store aisles, that I have to stop myself in my tracks and realize - the only person he's bothering by doing this, is me.  Why?  Why am I letting it bother me?  He's not throwing a tantrum.  He's not screaming, or pushing, or touching something he shouldn't.  He's just enjoying life.  Enjoying being little.  Why don't I just join in...chase him down an aisle...giggle as I grab him and throw him in the air with a tickle, instead of worrying that we're disturbing someone or making a scene. 

And it's those times that we're playing in the basement and he jumps into a giant pile of clean laundry that I'd just dumped out to fold.  The times when he whines as I put on his coat to go outside, because he's just plain sick of wearing layers.  It's the times that he sees me laying on the floor and runs over to jump on my back for a horsey ride. 

Who cares if he wants to mix all the food on his plate together at Guapo's.  Who cares if he wants to sit on the tractor at Lowe's one more time.  It's these small, rather uneventful moments, that truly make up the overall whole of his memories as a toddler, and my memories as a mommy of little boy.

So I'm working on myself - to enjoy the plateau's.  Just as I'll cheer for each milestone that he hits, or learn to take a deep breath, calmly correct his behavior, and generally just wait out a tantrum, I'll pause to enjoy the moments that are less obvious...and more simple.  Because every moment is a memory waiting to be made.  And the next time he starts to dump his Cheerios's in the cup holders of his car seat, just because it's keeping him entertained in the backseat - I won't get upset and tell him to stop making a mess -- but instead, I'll giggle quietly, let him continue, and remind myself that someday I'm going to miss how silly he was when he was 2.