Life With A Boy: A Story About Poop

My son. He's the apple of my eye, the light of my life. He's the reason I wake up in the morning and the reason I buy Clorox bleach wipes in bulk.

We've been very busy lately. We flew to Northern California for Thanksgiving. We've started our holiday cards. We hit the beach for a Fall bonfire. A lot of change has been happening in our house, too. Jake has moved from his own room where he rarely slept to our room. The master is a huge suite so we decided to make that the bedroom for one and all and re-purpose his room into a toy/craft room. So far, things are working out nicely.

As this year is coming to a close, our landlord left us a message that she'd be in town to do some maintenance and decorating in the condo. To make things easier for her to move around the place, we did some cleaning to prepare for her arrival.

Making my way from room to room with my shadow in tow (if I turn too quickly, I run smack into Jake he follows me so closely these days) I picked things up, put clothes away and laid out some hand towels in the bathrooms. While I was working in the front/guest bathroom, I noticed some smudges on the wall adjacent to the toilet. At first I kinda freaked out thinking there was blood on my wall, maybe from Jake picking is nose and rubbing it on the wall. But as I examined closer, I realized it couldn't be blood or we would have noticed a bloody nose before this moment.

I moved in closer, using my Sherlock Mommy senses and found that the smudges were dry and brown... GAH! It was poop!

I was instantly thrown back in disgust and gagged silently. Ugh...poop on my wall and for how long, I did not know!

Laying down the towesl and picking up some trash that had missed the trash can, I made my way out of the bathroom to the kitchen in search of bleach wipes. My little shadow noted my departure and asked me "Why you leave the light on, mama?"

Turning to Jake I told him it was because I had to come back up and clean the bathroom but first I had to go downstairs. Without any prompting my son then pipes up "Because you clean the poop off the wall!"

That did it!!!

I almost peed my pants. And he totally ratted himself out as the perpetrator of the crime and was so casual about the fecal matter artwork. Trying not to laugh, I asked him who did it. His reply was first "Joe did it". When I asked again because it seemed impossible that my boyfriend would be playing in his poo, he told me "My birdie, Jagger."

Huh???

We have no pets and as far as I knew, Jake had no imaginary ones either. Still stifling my laughter I made my way to the kitchen and brought back upstairs my big, Costco sized container of Clorox bleach wipes and scrubbed the hell out of the wall.

Nasty....

For more stories about my life with a boy, check out these past posts.

• The Toy Edition
• An Interview With Jake aka Optimus Prime
• The Body Edition
• The Summer Edition
• The Things He Says
  

Wordless Wednesday #17

Who's The Scariest Of The All?

(Jake, ghost. Me, "mummy")
(October 2009)

Yeah, took me long enough to get these pictures up. Now I can add this year to my collection of creative themed Halloween costumes. Jake was a ghost (a costume he didn't wear for long) and I was his "Mummy". What's hard to tell are the details. First, my legs are completely wrapped. That was the easiest part to wrap. Secondly I have on an apron that I made. Pretty cute, huh? And lastly I have on pearl jewelery. I'm supposed to be a "mommy" from about the 1950's. Yeah, it was a cute idea until I actually had to wrap myself. Damn sheets!

Wordless Wednesday brought to you by Mom Dot and 5 Minutes For Mom.

Losing The Bedtime Battle

I have a very sweet boy. A boy who will kiss your boo-boos and make funny faces so that you laugh till you cry (or pee your pants).

He is also the boy who is feisty and very strong willed. We seem to always have some area of our life that is a battle, how ever we approach it. Whether it is getting dressed in the morning, eating a meal other than Cheerios, taking a bath at night or putting away our toys, it's usually fraught with screaming, kicking, and a lot of tears, mostly mine.

There hasn't been a phase in my son's short life that wasn't a challenge. When he was an infant, it was the spitting up. The child was a fountain. He never fussed with colic but I know he struggled with baby indigestion. He was nursed so I changed my diet and weeded out nuts and diary. That didn't end it so we just lived in a constant puddle of spewage.



When he learned to walk, we never rested. Constantly we pulled him from cabinets, stairs, locked doors and placed laundry baskets, wallets, and keys high up and out of reach. He hated wearing shoes but was on the go constantly so much of his walking days were spent indoors, tearing things apart.

But there is one battle we seem to never grow out of. A fight that exhausts me to my core and makes me consider personally removing my lady bits so that I can never have kids again.

I love you, I promise, but the battle over bedtime makes me wish for miracle sterilization. I would like to just wake up on day without the ability to have another child that WON'T SLEEP!

EVER!

I've never hidden the fact that sleep is not our strong point. I've written about it before in these posts here and here. Some of the sleeping issues are due to my mistakes as a first time mommy but they are also fueled by my son's high needs personality.

As a baby, he slept best when on us. His naps were usually conducted on someone chest or in someone's arms.

On Papa

On me


On Nona

On Uncle Mike

For me, a single mother, it made life easier. He was closer for nursing, which he did till he was 21 months old. It allowed me to sleep at night when he nursed frequently. Plus, who doesn't love a baby to cuddle with in those dim early hours of the morning when the sun is slowly making its way to the horizon to greet you. His little feet and little hands tucked into me, the slight rumble of a snore at the back of his throat.

Some may say I have no right to complain. I created this monster by allowing him to sleep in my bed in the first place. Before that thought takes flight, let me say Jake did sleep in his own crib until he was 5 months old. But the summer of 2006 was unusually horrid weather wise and my son slept best wrapped like a burrito. Once the humidity hit, the kind that last through the night and brings with it thunder, lightening and the occasional power outage, he couldn't sleep comfortably in his wrapper. So out he came and sleep was hard to achieve.

Co-sleeping then began and together we slept well. He still didn't sleep through the night but our sleep was more peaceful and there was less crying as we slept and nursed together.

At one point, I was able to move him from my bed to his own, with only one point at night when he would wake and make his way into my bed and there, we would sleep until morning. Then miraculously, my son slept through the night. IN HIS OWN BED!

It took some training and a few nights of crying at the beginning of bed time but, soon we were sleeping in separate beds and mostly through the night.

Those are days long gone. Now I have a pissed off 3 1/2 year old that can tantrum for a good 3 hours straight in the middle of the night. I wish I could say I handle these as the perfect parent I am in my dreams, but I don't. I scream back, I mercilessly put him back in his bed then shut the door, I cry and I tantrum right along with him.

Tomorrow we visit the doctor in hopes for some answers for at least to be pointed in a direction we haven't thought of. I have no expectations....only hopes. And dreams. Sweet dreams of sleep.

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again

The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
Everlong- Foo Fighters

Tomorrow is November 13th. And it's a Friday. A Friday the 13th.

I'm a bit odd because, Friday the 13ths tend to be a very lucky day for me. As for Saturday the 14th, well that's usually a suckfest.

But this year, this Friday the 13th is kind of special.

I am celebrating my 1st year anniversary as a girlfriend. A HUGE milestone for me due to the fact that never, in all my dating life, have I made it to this point.

Excited? Very much.

Nervous? FUCK YES!

I actually feel like I could throw up but I won't.

Why the nerves? Well, being that my relationships always seemed to end an untimely death months before the big first year mark, I'm technically treading into new waters. And these waters ain't just a wading pool, we're in deep now.

We can finish each other's sentences and we laugh at each other's jokes when no one else does. Our hands still fit perfectly and we can both sleep in the same bed without waking each other now. I know when I need to just listen and when I can speak up. He knows when to just hold me and when crack a joke and make me smile.

He's officially geeking me out and I'm teaching him to be crafty is a way of life.

We fill the spaces for each other that we, ourselves, can't complete.

Before I met Joe, I honestly felt like a pretty complete person. Now I'm not only complete but a better parent, friend, lover and partner. Over all, a better human.

We met in a park on Easter in 2008. It was a shy meeting with little to nothing said. Then we became friends and build a foundation of sharing and communication. We told stories, shared likes and dislikes all the while building up some pretty heavy duty mutual crushes.

Then we had our first "date". I think we both knew, even then, what we could have together and it frightened me. But I stuck with it, put my heart on the line and fell in love.

Now, it's year later since the day we asked each other if this was it and both of us answered with an emphatic YES!

It's been a year of growth. A year of learning. A year of tears and hugs. Some disagreements followed by some amazing make-up sex. Lots of laughter and even more funny stories.

I never knew how deeply you could love a child. When I had my son, I found out and I sobbed with the power of that feeling in the hospital, looking over his bassinet.

I also never knew how deeply you could love another human being and not lose yourself in the process. When I met Joe, I found out and felt joy like I've never known.

He's given me space when I needed it but never fully walked away. His motto was "Never give up. Never stop trying." And, I'll be honest, there was a point when I thought I was done, when I wanted to give up. When I didn't want to try anymore. I'm so glad I listened to him, believed in us and worked through my fears. Who could ask for a better friend than one that would say "Here is your space. Take it but I'm not leaving"?

Here is to us, thanks for the great year.

Here is to us, for another year and many more.

And here is to you, Joe. Thanks for not stopping when I said "when".

Taking Time Off

Hello there followers, friends and fellow bloggers!

It's officially November and the Christmas ads are rolling in. Both Target and Wal-Mart are be-decked with the holiday cheers.

BLECK!

It's a little early but hell, there is nothing I can do to stop it.....sadly.

But along Halloween being over and the holidays kicking in, November hustled in my front door with a HUGE load of crap to survive.

I am currently enrolled in two classes to clear my credential. The good news: I can do them online. The bad news: I can do them online! I've never taken a class that was solely online so this should be interesting. The classes started today and so far I've made three posts and have 3 chapters to read. Luckily it's only a 6 week program.

On top of that, I'm involved in a few things this month: A holiday blogger's swap that will end in mid-November and NaNoWriMo that will end on November 30th. Check them out and join in the fun!

The last, Hawt Mamas, is a weight loss group I've joined in for the support and friendship as I try to lose this extra tire and the love handles. If you wanna join, contact me and I can put you into contact with the site moderators. It is a closed forum and opened by invitation only due to the sensitive nature of our cause. But in conjunction with joining Hawt Mamas, I am posting my weigh-ins and measurements at my other blog. Click the button below and check it out.

NaNoWriMo

Blogger's Santa Swap

Hawt Mamas

Cheers To My Health

And let's not forget Thanksgiving. I am insane and have booked Jake and me a flight to Northern California where we will be spending Thanksgiving weekend with family. It will also be my birthday weekend so I'm SUPER stoked to be in my favorite part of California, the grand Bay Area, to celebrate my 29th but I'm not so thrilled about the traveling ALONE with a 3 1/2 year on a plane.

Crossing my fingers for a smooth flight.

To say the least (yeah right!) I will be bowing out of blogging here for much of November. I will be primarily focusing on my classes and my health. NaNoWriMo may take a huge backseat and so will my blogging.

But, I promise to be back. I still have Halloween pictures to post (once I get my camera back) and I'll have a post to write up after our holiday swap is complete. I'll also have LOTS to share about our trip up North and how we did on our plane and BART ride.

Do you miss me already?

Wordless Wednesday #16

Someone's Pissed!

(Jake, Oct. 2009)

Wordless Wednesday brought to you by Mom Dot and 5 Minutes For Mom.

Thank you Sara for the wonderful button.

**Just a note that is funny (well not really). This morning we had a tantrum blow-out, the biggest of all time. All because we asked my son to get dressed and he wanted to but didn't do it. I had forgotten about this post today so when I saw my picture choice, I couldn't help but laugh. This is an everyday occurrence right now and I hope this phase passes soon.**

A Big Birthday Post

Today is a special day.

Today, my baby brother (who stands about 4-5 inches taller than me) turns 24 years old.

24. A great year.

It's hard to believe it's been 24 years since that Halloween, when I was 4. When you came into our world.

You are the sibling whose birth I remember because I was old enough.

I remember only certain things. I remember pretending to be pregnant while mom was. I would puff out my stomach and say there was a baby in there.

Family members played along, thinking it was cute.
I was ready to be a mommy, too.

I remember the princess costume mom and dad made me. Mom made a pink shift with silver zig-zag trim and dad fashioned a pointy hat.

The hat, oddly, came out a little long so I needed an adult to walk behind me to hold it up or I would tip over backwards.

I remember mom not being there when it was time to dress up. So Aunt Gina helped me get ready. She put on my glitter and my make-up.

The make-up was the best part of my costume!

Then dad took us to the hospital, all dressed up as a Princess and Jen as Raggedy Ann.
I remember the nurses oh-ing and ah-ing at us, saying how cute we were to visit our new baby brother in costume.

Then you came home to us. Grandma and Grandpa took Jennifer and I out to dinner, to a restaurant that had red and white checkered tablecloths.

I don't remember what we ate or where it was. But I remember enjoying our grandparents and wondering what was so special that we got some time with them alone?

When we came to the house, we were ushered in your nursery, wall-papered with teddy bears and balloons. And there you were.

(1985)
My first impression?
You looked like a potato wrapped into a blanket.
Jen was too busy with her nini in her mouth to voice her opinion.

It's still contested to this day how your name came about. Mom says it happened one way and dad says something different.
You were to be a Michael Paul or a Paul Michael.
The story goes that mom and dad were indecisive and gave me the deciding vote.
I remember this and I remember picking Michael Paul.

I hope you like your name

(1986)
You made our family complete. We were now two girls and a boy. Jen and you were best buddies due to being 22 months apart.
I was a second mother you never asked for and completely resented.
But that was ok. I was practicing on you for my mommy days in the future.

And you were all boy! Mom and dad nicknamed you Dare Devil baby because you had no fear.
There was even a point that you would do daring stunts, hurt yourself, then faint from crying.
Much of my 6th year's memory is of mom saying "Breathe, Michael, breathe!!!"

Such the dare devil that you had a broken leg by the age of two. Hell, you had your cast put on ON your 2nd Birthday!
(And to this day, I swear I didn't push you....honest!)

Then there was the tooth...Yeah only a day or two after that cast came off, you face planted in the laundry room and knocked it out. What were you doing? Checking out my birthday cake with Jen for my 7th birthday party.
(This time, there is conclusive evidence that I did NOT push you. I was at school. It's just coincidence that it was my cake you were peeking at.)

Either way, you came out ok. A few more cuts, bumps, stitches, and a broken wrist to end your senior year of football followed but they all made you stronger. Stronger physically but also emotionally. Like it was the universe's way to prepare you for the worst possible scenario. The loss of your best friend.

Now you aren't just a brother but an uncle. Uncle Mike who wrestles with Jake and teaches him to kick a ball.
You are here because you are meant to be Jake's buddy. His teacher. The Uncle he adores.

I love you Mikey.
Happy Birthday!