I can't really blame him. He had no accidents in preschool (after 2 days of 2 accidents per day), and he "went" directly before we left for Scooter's soccer practice. He also had a pound of strawberries after "holding it" for 2 days. I think we all know where this is going...
I took Bubba with us to soccer practice. We got his ball out of the car, and he proceeded to kick his ball around the track surrounding the field. He kicked and ran 3/4 of a mile before the tell-tale look came across his face. You know the one. The kind of panicked concentration face. The one where his mouth is half open and he has a far away look in his eyes. Yeah. That one. The port-o-potty was being used at the moment (what are the chances?!), so we started the long, slow walk back to the car. One might call it the brown mile. I called Ben on our way to see if he could rescue us with something - anything to not have to smash poop-pants into a car seat.
While we waited, I became a resourceful mom. We happened to have taken Ben's car to practice tonight. Bummer, since I generally keep a plastic grocery bag in my car for trash. Ben doesn't like the aesthetics of the trash bag hanging off the stick shift, and frankly, neither do I. But sometimes, function trumps looks. As it was, however, we had no trash bag. The lucky thing about having Ben's car is that we did have wet wipes on hand. Yay! I opened the tailgate and stood Bubba up in the back. Shoes, socks, pants, underpants all came off, and I noticed a ziplock containing bug spray and sunscreen in a nook back there. Hooray!!! I dumped the contents of Bubba's underpants along with the used wet wipes into the ziplock. I finished wiping the boy up, and then used a fresh wet wipe on my hands, followed by hand sanitizer. Tadah! Just as I was finishing up, Ben drove up with a plastic grocery bag and a fresh pair of underpants and jeans.
Dirties went into the grocery bag, and cleanies went onto the boy. As we were fixing that up, Scooter walked up. Practice was over! We made it! Kind of. If I thought cleaning out warm underpants in a toilet was gross, I soon realized that cold dirty underpants is even worse. The bright side is that we now have a lot more clean laundry. I do at least one load per evening...
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Happy pirates
The kids and I went shopping for Halloween costumes last night. Bubba has been fascinated by pirates for a couple of months, now. He'll pretend to be the captain, and we're all his crew. He'll march around the house saying, "Yeeargh! I pirate!" or "I'm a happy pirate" in a sing-song voice. He even closes one eye while holding sharp objects (the closed eye is his "eye patch"). So we kind of all decided that he should be a pirate for Halloween. It'll give him the opportunity to wear his pirate outfit whenever he wants to after the holiday, too.
Scooter originally wanted to be a fairy. This girl has been a fairy/queen/princess of some sort since she's been old enough to make her own decisions about such matters. Year 1 (infant), she was a cow. Then, tigger, a dog, Dora, witch (with a fairy wand and sparkles on her face), Snow White, Snow Princess, and last year was full on fairy. So when she said, "Oh, I don't know. A fairy." I put my foot down. No More Fairies! She decided she really wanted to be a pirate, too. That way, people would know that she and Bubba belonged together when they were trick or treating.
You see, Scooter and Bubba have never spent Halloween together. Mostly because Halloween has been the ex's holiday of choice. My theory is that the ex likes to show other people what a "great dad" he is without really having to spend a lot of one-on-one time with his daughter. He has always worked on Thanksgiving and Christmas, bailed on Easter, gotten babysitters for New Years (you get the idea), but rain or snow, he's taken her trick or treating. It's nice to hear strangers tell you how adorable your daughter is. Not that it's been a huge loss that the kids haven't spent Halloween together. This is only Bubba's 3rd time celebrating it. But it is the first year he will actually go door to door, and it's likely the first one he'll really remember. It's important for Scooter, too, this year.
Ever since she came back from her dad's this summer, she and Bubba have been inseperable. He LOVES following her around, and surprisingly enough, she loves having him follow her around. She feels extremely close and protective and proud of him, and he worships her. It was important to her that people know that they belong together, so I was happy to get them little pirate outfits, even if they don't exactly match. Scooter's is below. We couldn't find black tights, so she'll wear white with scars all over them. Bubba's is here, too. Can you tell who will be who?
The ex will be in town for "his" holiday, but Scooter and Bubba will still be trick or treating together. Whew! We'll see how all of this turns out.
Scooter originally wanted to be a fairy. This girl has been a fairy/queen/princess of some sort since she's been old enough to make her own decisions about such matters. Year 1 (infant), she was a cow. Then, tigger, a dog, Dora, witch (with a fairy wand and sparkles on her face), Snow White, Snow Princess, and last year was full on fairy. So when she said, "Oh, I don't know. A fairy." I put my foot down. No More Fairies! She decided she really wanted to be a pirate, too. That way, people would know that she and Bubba belonged together when they were trick or treating.
You see, Scooter and Bubba have never spent Halloween together. Mostly because Halloween has been the ex's holiday of choice. My theory is that the ex likes to show other people what a "great dad" he is without really having to spend a lot of one-on-one time with his daughter. He has always worked on Thanksgiving and Christmas, bailed on Easter, gotten babysitters for New Years (you get the idea), but rain or snow, he's taken her trick or treating. It's nice to hear strangers tell you how adorable your daughter is. Not that it's been a huge loss that the kids haven't spent Halloween together. This is only Bubba's 3rd time celebrating it. But it is the first year he will actually go door to door, and it's likely the first one he'll really remember. It's important for Scooter, too, this year.
Ever since she came back from her dad's this summer, she and Bubba have been inseperable. He LOVES following her around, and surprisingly enough, she loves having him follow her around. She feels extremely close and protective and proud of him, and he worships her. It was important to her that people know that they belong together, so I was happy to get them little pirate outfits, even if they don't exactly match. Scooter's is below. We couldn't find black tights, so she'll wear white with scars all over them. Bubba's is here, too. Can you tell who will be who?
The ex will be in town for "his" holiday, but Scooter and Bubba will still be trick or treating together. Whew! We'll see how all of this turns out.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Preschool
Preschool started today for my little one. Well...kind of. It mostly started today. We just don't get the SEVENTY-FIVE dollar PER WEEK price break until he goes accident free for a week. Here's to hoping for next week...
This morning, when I woke little Bubba up, he was not happy about being awake. This is no surprise. He's never been much of a morning person. Example: the morning after he was born.
He still makes that face every morning, M-F. And as is the cliche, he'll wake up at the same time as normal on Sat and Sun on his own, in great spirits.
Anyway, after making that face at me for several minutes this morning and fighting with me about the potty, I asked if he was excited about preschool. Every other day for the past 2 weeks, he's been looking forward to preschool. Bigger and cooler friends, better toys, more independence...what's not to like? Except on Friday, when they moved all of his stuff over for good, someone cried. Getting your news from a 2 year old is probably bad practice. But from what we gathered, either Bubba cried, or one (or both) of his "big todds" teacher(s) cried. And now, Bubba no longer is looking forward to preschool.
When I dropped him off this morning, I suggested that we take off his coat (as I always do). He agreed, and started to make for the big todds room, where we used to hang his coat on a hook. Today, I ushered him over to the hooks in the preschool 1 class. After that, I spoke with one of the employees about his potty habits this morning (once at 6:20am), and went to get my hug and kiss from Bubba. He suggested we go back to see his big todds teacher. Hm...no. Today we're staying up front until the preschool teachers come in. And then the kicker, "daddy picks me up and takes me home?" "Yes. Daddy will pick you up today."
Hopefully, this little bit of anxiety straightens itself out. Because I'm really looking forward to an extra $300 a month. So is my lawyer...
This morning, when I woke little Bubba up, he was not happy about being awake. This is no surprise. He's never been much of a morning person. Example: the morning after he was born.
He still makes that face every morning, M-F. And as is the cliche, he'll wake up at the same time as normal on Sat and Sun on his own, in great spirits.
Anyway, after making that face at me for several minutes this morning and fighting with me about the potty, I asked if he was excited about preschool. Every other day for the past 2 weeks, he's been looking forward to preschool. Bigger and cooler friends, better toys, more independence...what's not to like? Except on Friday, when they moved all of his stuff over for good, someone cried. Getting your news from a 2 year old is probably bad practice. But from what we gathered, either Bubba cried, or one (or both) of his "big todds" teacher(s) cried. And now, Bubba no longer is looking forward to preschool.
When I dropped him off this morning, I suggested that we take off his coat (as I always do). He agreed, and started to make for the big todds room, where we used to hang his coat on a hook. Today, I ushered him over to the hooks in the preschool 1 class. After that, I spoke with one of the employees about his potty habits this morning (once at 6:20am), and went to get my hug and kiss from Bubba. He suggested we go back to see his big todds teacher. Hm...no. Today we're staying up front until the preschool teachers come in. And then the kicker, "daddy picks me up and takes me home?" "Yes. Daddy will pick you up today."
Hopefully, this little bit of anxiety straightens itself out. Because I'm really looking forward to an extra $300 a month. So is my lawyer...
Friday, October 7, 2011
The Potty Training Chronicles part II
Have I mentioned that my son is terrified of going poopoo on the potty? He's got pee pee down, but when it comes to number two, well...it's just not going to happen for a while. Which is fine, except I have a gag reflex like my father. I gag changing diapers, much less peeling poop-filled underpants off a 2 year old with socks on and washing them off in a toilet. Oh, Lord. Just typing that made me gag a little.
Needless to say, my life has become a nightmare. Since he's terrified to "go" on the potty, he saves it up until the evening. We'll sit and sit and sit on the potty with nothing, then 5 minutes later, he'll run off to his room or to the study for 20 seconds and come back with a book and a certain aroma about him. And then it's time for me to cry on the inside while I gag on the outside. Last night was one of those nights. He had just sat on the potty and gone pee pee. I went back to the kitchen to clean up dinner dishes. Ben was in his office and Scooter was doing homework at the table. Bubba ran to the living room, hugged the couch, and then threw a pillow onto the floor. That was my cue to go pick it up. And there was the familiar odor of what my evenings have turned into. Ugh.
Several minutes of clean-up later, and we were in Bubba's room to put a pull up on (we're out of clean underwear). We pulled it up, and he gave me a long hug and said, "Thank you for cleaning my poop up, mom." Awww...what a sweet heart. Except, wait. Nobody should have to clean your poop up, kid. And I got the foreboding suspicion that I'll be hearing those words again and again for the next 20 years or so. Hopefully his hugs and thanks won't have lost their luster by then.
Needless to say, my life has become a nightmare. Since he's terrified to "go" on the potty, he saves it up until the evening. We'll sit and sit and sit on the potty with nothing, then 5 minutes later, he'll run off to his room or to the study for 20 seconds and come back with a book and a certain aroma about him. And then it's time for me to cry on the inside while I gag on the outside. Last night was one of those nights. He had just sat on the potty and gone pee pee. I went back to the kitchen to clean up dinner dishes. Ben was in his office and Scooter was doing homework at the table. Bubba ran to the living room, hugged the couch, and then threw a pillow onto the floor. That was my cue to go pick it up. And there was the familiar odor of what my evenings have turned into. Ugh.
Several minutes of clean-up later, and we were in Bubba's room to put a pull up on (we're out of clean underwear). We pulled it up, and he gave me a long hug and said, "Thank you for cleaning my poop up, mom." Awww...what a sweet heart. Except, wait. Nobody should have to clean your poop up, kid. And I got the foreboding suspicion that I'll be hearing those words again and again for the next 20 years or so. Hopefully his hugs and thanks won't have lost their luster by then.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Oh, Snap!
Guess what I learned yesterday? If your house has been on the market for more than 6 months, it no longer shows "days on market" on trulia. I know this not because my house is still for sale (we sold it in May, sheesh! keep up, people!), but because a certain ex's old house is still for sale. They moved into their new house in July. Hooray for double mortgages! Not really. I lived that life for a long, long time, and to be honest, it totally sucks.
When breaking down the expenses of the past year, $38,000 in lawyers' fees was not the only thing sucking our savings dry. Mortgage + rent took a chunk of dough, as did flying back to Omaha twice per month for 9 months. Oh, yeah. We also paid for Scooter to fly out whenever she visited - plus our own tickets to accompany her. So when I feel a bit of joy at seeing the ex's house sit on the market, don't think poorly of me. Kharma's a bitch.
Besides, he still hasn't paid child support. I guess it's only 6 days into the month. And I already know he won't pay. He did, afterall, visit Scooter for 30 hours on the last weekend in September. I'm still waiting to see his affidavit and expense break out from that trip. I guess I should call the clerk of the court tomorrow. He's supposed to mail a copy of all of that to me, but you know how cops are with court orders. Oh, wait... So, yeah. I'll call the clerk of court tomorrow, and likely my lawyer after that. I miss that guy, anyway. We used to talk nearly daily, and through the course of sending him every email I've ever written and copies of all my journal entries, that guy knows me probably as well as my own husband does. It's weird to suddenly stop talking, even if I was paying him for the priviledge previously. Are lawyers kind of like phone sex operators that way? Maybe more like psychologists. I guess there's a reason why they're called counselors.
So anyway, I've been getting phone calls lately from the ex (and his taun-taun Vicky wife) because Scooter turns her phone off. She does it everyday. Now...one might think that this is her normal phone behavior, and I should encourage her to turn her phone on. Except for one thing. When she's not at my house, I can call anytime day or evening, and her phone is on. She may not always answer, but it's always on. The only time I've called and her phone was off was for a day or two after something happened that angered the ex (like...my expressing to his boss my desire that he follow a court order, or my explanation that I intend on following the court order, etc). This leads me to believe that Scooter is purposely turning her phone off in an attempt to avoid conversations with her dad.
I don't blame her. After she talks to him, she often times sounds sad, and asks me to hang out with her one on one for a while, "just to talk." We never talk about her phone calls, but usually fill the space with friends, school, homework, and weekend plans. On tap for this week? A quick trip to the coast followed by a bbq at the aunt and uncle's house. But first, a soccer game.
When breaking down the expenses of the past year, $38,000 in lawyers' fees was not the only thing sucking our savings dry. Mortgage + rent took a chunk of dough, as did flying back to Omaha twice per month for 9 months. Oh, yeah. We also paid for Scooter to fly out whenever she visited - plus our own tickets to accompany her. So when I feel a bit of joy at seeing the ex's house sit on the market, don't think poorly of me. Kharma's a bitch.
Besides, he still hasn't paid child support. I guess it's only 6 days into the month. And I already know he won't pay. He did, afterall, visit Scooter for 30 hours on the last weekend in September. I'm still waiting to see his affidavit and expense break out from that trip. I guess I should call the clerk of the court tomorrow. He's supposed to mail a copy of all of that to me, but you know how cops are with court orders. Oh, wait... So, yeah. I'll call the clerk of court tomorrow, and likely my lawyer after that. I miss that guy, anyway. We used to talk nearly daily, and through the course of sending him every email I've ever written and copies of all my journal entries, that guy knows me probably as well as my own husband does. It's weird to suddenly stop talking, even if I was paying him for the priviledge previously. Are lawyers kind of like phone sex operators that way? Maybe more like psychologists. I guess there's a reason why they're called counselors.
So anyway, I've been getting phone calls lately from the ex (and his taun-taun Vicky wife) because Scooter turns her phone off. She does it everyday. Now...one might think that this is her normal phone behavior, and I should encourage her to turn her phone on. Except for one thing. When she's not at my house, I can call anytime day or evening, and her phone is on. She may not always answer, but it's always on. The only time I've called and her phone was off was for a day or two after something happened that angered the ex (like...my expressing to his boss my desire that he follow a court order, or my explanation that I intend on following the court order, etc). This leads me to believe that Scooter is purposely turning her phone off in an attempt to avoid conversations with her dad.
I don't blame her. After she talks to him, she often times sounds sad, and asks me to hang out with her one on one for a while, "just to talk." We never talk about her phone calls, but usually fill the space with friends, school, homework, and weekend plans. On tap for this week? A quick trip to the coast followed by a bbq at the aunt and uncle's house. But first, a soccer game.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
'rent
As in, slang for "parent." Or actual rent. I have both on my mind today.
For starters, I have forgotten to pay my rent everyday so far this month. Luckily, I have until midnight tonight before it's late. Whew. Please remind me. I have honestly meant to do it every day so far, and by the time I was near a checkbook, I have forgotten. Such is the story of my life, I guess. I like to fancy myself fairly intelligent, but I have a memory like a sieve. It comes in handy for rinsing vegetables and straining spaghetti, but it's not that great for anything else.
And onto parenting. Bubba is going to move up to the young preschool class on Monday. He's ready. We're ready. I was less ready until I found out there's a SEVENTY-FIVE dollar per WEEK price break for moving. It made the decision much, much easier. There are now 75 more reasons to move him up. Per week. I was chatting with Bubba's current teacher about the move this morning. She had mentioned that there are only 5 kids in the preschool class right now. They're just waiting for kids to be potty trained. Apparently, by the age of 3, their school policy is to have kids move to the preschool room. Bubba is only 31 months, but he's ready. There's another kid who is 3 years and a couple of months who will move with Bubba, and two other kids who are already 3 who will not move up yet. The reasoning? They are at square 0 with potty training.
Bubba's teacher mentioned that when it comes to potty training, it really takes a committed parent as well as committed daycare staff. It can't be accomplished solely at daycare. It makes me happy that Ben and I aren't lumped in with the lazy parents. Our kid is the youngest one being considered to move up in this batch. Is it because he's a little smarty pants? Maybe. But I'd like to also think it's due to Ben and my commitment to our kids. Scooter is doing well in school and her self-confidence is growing. Is it because we accept the bare minimum out of her? No. It's because we work with her to make sure her homework is getting done and to make sure she goes above and beyond to accomplish other goals: passport club, battle of the books, etc. School is important. Education is more important than soccer, period. And as far as Bubba is concerned, potty training is important. Not just for the $75 a week in daycare costs and the $50 a month in diapers and wipes. But for his confidence and education. He's ready for pre-school intellectually and socially. We just need to get him there in the bathroom.
For starters, I have forgotten to pay my rent everyday so far this month. Luckily, I have until midnight tonight before it's late. Whew. Please remind me. I have honestly meant to do it every day so far, and by the time I was near a checkbook, I have forgotten. Such is the story of my life, I guess. I like to fancy myself fairly intelligent, but I have a memory like a sieve. It comes in handy for rinsing vegetables and straining spaghetti, but it's not that great for anything else.
And onto parenting. Bubba is going to move up to the young preschool class on Monday. He's ready. We're ready. I was less ready until I found out there's a SEVENTY-FIVE dollar per WEEK price break for moving. It made the decision much, much easier. There are now 75 more reasons to move him up. Per week. I was chatting with Bubba's current teacher about the move this morning. She had mentioned that there are only 5 kids in the preschool class right now. They're just waiting for kids to be potty trained. Apparently, by the age of 3, their school policy is to have kids move to the preschool room. Bubba is only 31 months, but he's ready. There's another kid who is 3 years and a couple of months who will move with Bubba, and two other kids who are already 3 who will not move up yet. The reasoning? They are at square 0 with potty training.
Bubba's teacher mentioned that when it comes to potty training, it really takes a committed parent as well as committed daycare staff. It can't be accomplished solely at daycare. It makes me happy that Ben and I aren't lumped in with the lazy parents. Our kid is the youngest one being considered to move up in this batch. Is it because he's a little smarty pants? Maybe. But I'd like to also think it's due to Ben and my commitment to our kids. Scooter is doing well in school and her self-confidence is growing. Is it because we accept the bare minimum out of her? No. It's because we work with her to make sure her homework is getting done and to make sure she goes above and beyond to accomplish other goals: passport club, battle of the books, etc. School is important. Education is more important than soccer, period. And as far as Bubba is concerned, potty training is important. Not just for the $75 a week in daycare costs and the $50 a month in diapers and wipes. But for his confidence and education. He's ready for pre-school intellectually and socially. We just need to get him there in the bathroom.
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Rage
Bubba's been sick. I think we know this. Fever for 6 days, runny nose, etc. He also always ends up getting diarhea when he gets a virus. Everytime. Ugh. This time, he also got a double ear infection. The fever lasted the requesite "one more day" advised by the doctor, so we put him on antibiotics. Ugh. The fever abruptly went away the day after the antibiotics started. He got a rash almost as soon as the fever went away. And then the rage started.
Violent, crazed outbursts would follow simple instructions such as, "Let's go sit on the potty." or "Come read a book with me." It was scary and weird. I had never heard Bubba scream like that until this weekend. He would lash out and try to hit people or things. He would throw himself around. It was like he was possessed. At one point, I started googling things like, "fever, rash, rage toddler" to see if those symptoms were indicative of an illness. I got on emedicine and webmd to see what I could do about this.
My friend who was visiting from out of town made the comment that Bubba might have the "rage virus" from the (zombie) movie 28 Days Later. And really...it kind of fit. He has the rage virus. My poor baby is turning into a modern day zombie. We'd better not let any of his bodily fluids get on us, or we'll be doomed to raging around, too.
I was shocked. Bubba has always been such a sweet boy. I know he has a little more of a mind of his own than #1 did, but he's never really been of the tantrum sort. I never knew. It's got to be hard, though. Scooter really only had me to deal with. As long as I was somewhat consistent in my behavior, she knew what to expect. There was no two parent dynamic - if I do this to mom vs dad, what will happen, etc. Who is actually the boss here, anyway? Dad? Mom? Bubba?
That said, I remember distinctly at least 2 ocassions where she and I had tantrums (mostly her). And, of course, both were in stores. The problem there is that I was a single mom - there was nobody to cart the kid out to the car while the other parent finished the errand. In my case, we carted ourselves to a secluded area of the store, waited it out, and then continued on our way. So at least Bubba's weekend-long tantrum was, for the most part, confined to the privacy of our own home. In looking at Scooter today and the helpful, kind, intelligent girl that she is, I do need to remember that she, too, was once a two year old and had trouble dealing with the stresses of a two year old's life. Sometimes, I don't WANT to wear that shirt. How can I express that, other than a huge freakout? It's the only way, sometimes. This will pass.
Violent, crazed outbursts would follow simple instructions such as, "Let's go sit on the potty." or "Come read a book with me." It was scary and weird. I had never heard Bubba scream like that until this weekend. He would lash out and try to hit people or things. He would throw himself around. It was like he was possessed. At one point, I started googling things like, "fever, rash, rage toddler" to see if those symptoms were indicative of an illness. I got on emedicine and webmd to see what I could do about this.
My friend who was visiting from out of town made the comment that Bubba might have the "rage virus" from the (zombie) movie 28 Days Later. And really...it kind of fit. He has the rage virus. My poor baby is turning into a modern day zombie. We'd better not let any of his bodily fluids get on us, or we'll be doomed to raging around, too.
I was shocked. Bubba has always been such a sweet boy. I know he has a little more of a mind of his own than #1 did, but he's never really been of the tantrum sort. I never knew. It's got to be hard, though. Scooter really only had me to deal with. As long as I was somewhat consistent in my behavior, she knew what to expect. There was no two parent dynamic - if I do this to mom vs dad, what will happen, etc. Who is actually the boss here, anyway? Dad? Mom? Bubba?
That said, I remember distinctly at least 2 ocassions where she and I had tantrums (mostly her). And, of course, both were in stores. The problem there is that I was a single mom - there was nobody to cart the kid out to the car while the other parent finished the errand. In my case, we carted ourselves to a secluded area of the store, waited it out, and then continued on our way. So at least Bubba's weekend-long tantrum was, for the most part, confined to the privacy of our own home. In looking at Scooter today and the helpful, kind, intelligent girl that she is, I do need to remember that she, too, was once a two year old and had trouble dealing with the stresses of a two year old's life. Sometimes, I don't WANT to wear that shirt. How can I express that, other than a huge freakout? It's the only way, sometimes. This will pass.
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