Life Lessons: Knowing When to Lie

Meike has hit a new milestone and it’s UH-MAZE-ING.  She is now old enough and wise enough to go along with it when I lie to Luke.  All it takes is a knowing look or an “Ix-nay on the uth-tray.” 

Here are some examples:

Context:              Luke refuses to eat- Scenario #1 of 327

I say, over-enthusiastically (which, really, is Meike’s first hint to play along), “Luke, this is the most delicious [whatever we’re eating] in the world.” Meike, who is also not eating the most delicious food in the world, chimes in, “Mmmm. This is so good. Luke, can I eat yours?” Luke is three and despises sharing unless he initiates it, which is never. Game over.

Context:              Luke is being super cranky in the store

I have a love-hate relationship with the bulk section of the grocery store.  I am trying to figure out what type of pecan I want.  There are over a dozen, because this is Texas – Home of the Pecan.  Or the Longhorn or something.  Luke is screaming about gummy bears.  If you know Luke, then you know that I never ever give him sugar unless he is in an enclosed area.  Like a cage.  So I try to ply him with alternatives that I am happy to pretend are healthy.  Luke is not fooled by yogurt-covered carob chews.  Meike grabs some yogurt-covered raisins and says, “Luke, these are magic beans. If you eat them, you will grow big like a giant.”  I stare at her in awe until Luke promptly drops his handful of raisins onto the ground and replies, “No, magic beans will turn me into a plant.”

Context:              Luke will not stay out of the pool for the bizarre 10 minute all-kids-out period

Luke is screaming as I carrying him out of the pool.  He’s doing the whole wet-noodle-sliding-down-my-body thing.  I basically have to sit on him to keep him from running back into the pool.  I explain to Luke that there is a snake in the pool.  There is a lifeguard going around the pool and checking for drowned children or whatever. He is now a pool snake wrangler.   Awesome career change, I know; I’m a bit jealous.  Luke stops moving and watches the guy.  Meike is watching me intently and I’m silently begging sweet baby Jesus for her to keep her mouth shut.  “Mom, there are no..”  I interject immediately, “SNAKES!  Snakes everywhere!  Snakes.  In.  The.  Pool.”  I stare at her with my eyes a little too wide and light dawns.  Meike responds, “Oh.  That’s right.  Snakes.  Snakes are everywhere.  In there.  In the pool.”  I’m fairly certain that Luke will now have a confusing lifelong fear of randomly confronting snakes in pools. 

While I should probably not be touting my child’s exquisite ability to lie, it definitely has it perks.  However, it came at a high cost.  A less-favorable ability has developed in tandem with this one.  I can no longer spell things that I don’t want Meike to know.  I now have to communicate high-clearance information via impromptu games of charades when she is around.  “Let’s give the kids Benadryl and go drink wine” was a particularly difficult statement to convey.

Disclaimer:  Before I get 500 comments about what a terrible mother I am- I have never actually drugged my children with Benadryl.  But I cherish the thought.

I Need to Fatten Up My Baby

Luke's weight gain has not been following an ideal curve. He's gaining weight, but at a lower and lower rate. He eats like a bed-ridden obese person, so it's been frustrating trying to figure out what's going on. The Not-Doctor (she's a nurse practitioner, but that's just too long to say) suggested supplementing with Pediasure. When I expressed concern over Pediasure consisting almost entirely of water and sugar, she shrugged and said, "I don't know what's in it, but when I give it to kids with ADHD, they pack on the weight." Awesome. I'm sure he'd "pack on the weight" if I spoon fed him high fructose corn syrup all day, too. Plus it would be a hell of a lot cheaper.

So we decided to conduct an experiment. The Not-Doctor weighed Luke on Friday and he weighed 19lbs 11oz. Over the weekend, I gave Luke as much Pediasure as he wanted after and between meals. Have you ever tasted Pediasure? It's like a delicious milkshake. And considering the ingredients are listed as, "Water, sugar" and a shit-ton of vitamins and chemicals, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what it is.

On Monday, I brought Luke back to the Not-Doctor and, to my surprise, relief, and chagrin (I'll explain later) he had gained over 3lbs in three days. He jumped up 15 percentile points.  Yes, it is wonderful that Failure to Thrive is ruled out. Yes, it's good to know that Luke is simply crazy active and needs more calories. That said, it really annoys me that the Not-Doctor had pretty much NO information to back up the Pediasure recommendation and yet it worked.

So now what do I do? The Not-Doctor said to give Luke maybe one Pediasure a week. I'm not sure what that's supposed to accomplish. She had absolutely no suggestions on how to get Luke to gain weight without pumping him full of crap. When I pointed out that I could force the same weight gain by only feeding Luke Doritos and gummy vitamins, the Not-Doctor just shrugged. Oh, yeah, she also asked me if Carnation Good Start was just sugar, too. She asked me. All I could think was, "Am I really paying for this conversation?"

Almost everyone on the maternal side of my family has type 2 Diabetes, so I make a real effort to limit the amount of processed sugar in my kids' diet. I want them to establish good eating habits now in hopes of preventing them from developing Diabetes as adults.  This is one of the main reasons I am reluctant to give Luke Pediasure regularly. Even though I know he will burn off the calories, I don't want to train his body and mind to expect and want sugary treats on a daily basis.

Anyway, I'm on a mission to find healthy unprocessed alternatives to Pediasure. 

Just to make sure you truly understand how much this child eats, here is a sample food diary for him:

6:30am - Nurse & then throw body around bed until Mommy has sufficient panicky adrenaline levels from fear of Luke crushing his skull from backflipping off the bed
7:00am -

I Hate August

August was a spectacularly shitty month. It was so crappy, in fact, that I would wipe the month out of existence if I didn't know so many awesome people who were born in August.

To prove to you what a shit time I had this past month, here is a list of events that occurred therein:

1. My car exploded. Ok, so it didn't literally explode. While driving home from a wonderful Sunday breakfast, the air conditioning suddenly stopped working. About a minute later, water exploded all over the windshield and the power steering disappeared. It took three days to get everything fixed. I am thankful that Jonathan was driving at the time. I'm also thankful for our insanely helpful neighbors who transported us all over the place.
2. My knee dislocated. This happened at the best possible moment; I was walking out the door on a movie date. I think the last movie I went to was the Beauty and the Beast re-release with Meike. Needless to say, we missed the movie. I was on crutches at home for a week with almost no help. Thank you Marliz for helping the first night. Two weeks later, I still can't straighten my leg, but at least the limp is negligible. I need surgery and that's not going to happen until I have insurance.
3. We had no water for two days. The water company accidentally turned the water off without any notice one morning, even though the bill had been paid. When they came to fix it later that day, I wasn't home and apparently the water was on somewhere in the house. So we had to go another day without water. It was super great. No toilets, no drinking water, no baths, no hand washing. I had to go buy water just to brush my teeth. Again, I am thankful for my super helpful neighbors who insisted I bathe my kids at their house.
4. My phone died. Completely. If there is an emergency, I am going to have to run across the street to call 911. And then there's always the super helpful neighbors, if they're home.
5. The air conditioning is on the fritz. I have to completely turn it off when I leave in order for it to work [mostly] properly while I'm home.
6. There are Black Widows ALL OVER our property. 
7. This is kind of a dumb one, but lights are going out in all of the hard to reach and/or really useful places in my house. Top of the stairs. Flood lights out front. Meike's bathroom night light. Flood lights out back. Indoor garage lights. Vaulted ceiling fan's light.
8. There's a little shit down the street with a motorized scooter. When does said little shit prefer to ride said scooter? Every fucking time Luke lays down to sleep. With. Out. Fail. It sounds like a serial killer is running up and down the road wielding a weed eater.

Despite how incredibly expensive this month has been, writing this blog allowed me to see a positive side to it. I really do have super helpful neighbors. The worst stuff happened while Jonathan was home. My friends are willing to help me when I'm willing to ask. I'm humbly thankful for all of these things. 

Plus, I lost 8 pounds...woo, August!

I am Going to Die

Have you ever had one of those days where you are just in a foul mood for absolutely no reason? You know, the whole "waking up on the wrong side of the bed" thing. I'm having one of these days today. I had to utilize all of my limited self control in order to not break out the rum before 11am.

My kids slept til 9am today, so I should feel amazing. Well, Luke woke up and had to be nursed back to sleep at 5am and 6:30am. But I got to go back to sleep each time, so I won't complain... too much.

Anywho, the point is that my day didn't start off terribly. For the first hour, my kids were content watching Bambi and eating a ton of grapes. Yes, I feed them grapes for breakfast because I am an awesome, truly dedicated Mom. Hey, fruit is healthy

And then everything shot to hell. Between the hours of 10am and 11am, the following things happened:

1. Luke threw everything off of the counter while I was making his high calorie smoothie (again, because I am awesome and dedicated).
2. Meike dumped peanut oil onto the floor.
3. While holding Luke and searching through the cabinet for a smoothie-appropriate cup, Meike was whining about wanting Luke's smoothie. Meike pulled on my leg and caused me to knock a glass onto the counter. The glass shattered.
4. As I attempted to clean up the broken glass without maiming either child, Luke began to headbutt my calves. 
5. Meike asked for a muffing 6847654321 times. After receiving said muffin, she only ate two bites and insisted that she was full. Three minutes later, Meike was hungry, but only for bananas. After eating half of the banana, Meike decided she was full. Five minutes later, Meike said that she was hungry for a smoothie. She immediately asked for her muffin and said she was not hungry for smoothies. Then she didn't want the smoothie because she was hungry for muffins. Repeat indefinitely.

All of this resulted in my brain reaching a state best described as crazy. And I don't mean "whoa guys, this is crazy fun." I mean Timothy McVay levels of crazy.

Sex [Part 2]

Does all of this mean I'll be taking my family on nudist retreats to the nearest hippy lodge? Hell, no. Am I pretty terrified of having to discuss actual sexuality issues with a preschooler? Hell, yes.

Well, I wasn't terrified until I read this on the Advocates for Youth website:

What Families Need to Do to Raise Sexually Healthy Children
To help four- to five-year-old children develop a healthy sexuality, families should:

• Help children understand the concept of privacy and that talk about sexuality is private and occurs at home.
• Teach correct names of the major body parts (internal and external) and their basic functions.
• Explain how babies "get into" the mother's uterus.
• Encourage children to come to them or other trusted adults for information about sexuality.

The first one...Ok, I can do that. I've talked to Meike about certain body parts being private and that other people shouldn't touch them. But even then, I wonder- Is this going to embed a subconsious aversion to letting people touch her when she's an adult? Should I word this differently? Am I totally fucking this kid up?

Names of body parts. Got it. Uterus? Yeah, that's her "Baby Maker." That's as far as I'm going. INSERT UTERUS PILLOW This conversation actually came up a little while ago when Meike was asking if our cat was a good mommy. When I told her that she never had babies, Meike asked if that made the cat sad. I explained that the cat doesn't know she can't have babies, so she doesn't care (as if she'd care anyway). That eventually rolled into Meike wanting to know why the cat can't reproduce. My eloquent response? "Because she doesn't have a 'Baby Maker.'" End of discussion.

Luke also has a "Baby Maker." When Meike and Luke first started taking baths together, Meike pointed to his testicles (I really had to work hard not to say 'balls') and wanted to know what they were. Curiousity is a sign of intelligence, right? Sigh. So, that's his "Baby Maker." I think, altogether, Meike is exceptionally informed about her internal and external anatomy, as well as her brother's. Peapods, tee-pees (penis), and baby makers...What more could she ask for, really?

Now, this next step is a doosie- Explain how babies "get into" the mother's uterus. Um, Advocates for Youth, I'm going to needa minute for this one. I can't think of a way to explain this in a vague and disconnected way that in no way involves the idea of genitals touching. Oh, wait. It's says "four- to five-year old." Awesome. That gives me a year to forget how much of an impact this documentary had on me so that I can avoid having this conversation for another ten years.

Travelling with Baby: Entertainment

There were several factors that came into play while I was considering what to bring on the airplane to entertain Luke (13mos). He loves to explore and climb, so I knew this was going to be particularly challenging for him. Best case scenario-he sleeps. Worst case scenario-I need to keep him occupied for three hours while keeping him relatively immobile. I was not as worried about Meike (4yo), because she is pretty good at entertaining herself when necessary.

For both of my kids, I wanted toys that were relatively self-contained, lightweight, and compact. Meike has to carry her own carry-on, so everything she brings has to fit in a child-sized backpack. Luke loves to throw things, so I didn't want to bring anything with small parts or that would roll easily. Anything messy, like Play-Doh or pipe cleaners, was out of the question. I was not going to be chasing toys up and down the aisles and under seats. In order to maximize the amount of time that each toy would keep my kids occupied, I bought new toys that I kept hidden until we were on the airplane.

Here's what I bought for Luke:

Ravensburger Ribbon Puzzle - The puzzle pieces are attached to the board by ribbon and there are other 3-D aspects to the puzzle that are fun (in this case, fuzzy ears). The puzzles are inexpensive and lightweight.

Alma's Designs Goodnight Book - This company makes a bunch of really awesome toys for travel. The book has a completely detachable bear that interacts with each bag. On the pages featured in the picture below, for instance, baby can give the bear a bath (includes a bar of soap that Luke likes to rub on the bear) and dry him off. The toothbrush and toothpaste come completely out of the book; Luke preferred "brushing" his own teeth to brushing those of the little bear. The only drawback for this product is the price. I thought $30 was pretty expensive, but it did keep Luke busy for 30 minutes at a time and he kept coming back to it.

Barron's Going Shopping - This is another soft book (more reasonably priced at $16.95) with detachable items. The features a store where your child can "go shopping." There is a little grocery bag included. Each page is a different type of store; there's even a fish market with a fish tank that has to be opened to get the fish out. Your child puts each item in the grocery bag. The last page represents your home, with a pocket drawer and opening refrigerator. There are velcro spots so you can help your child put the items away where they belong. Like the previous book, this one zips completely shut so nothing falls out.


GeoMag: G-Baby Sea - These are large magnetic pieces that are frankly pretty awesome. There are different sized and themed sets. The set that I got Luke includes a center block as a foundation to stack the other pieces on; it even has divets so the rounded pieces can be placed into some of the sides. It came with four rubbery sea animals that fit over the rounded half-circle pieces. This goes against my no-rolling policy and there are 11 pieces in the set I bought. But, the amount of fun that Luke has playing with these far outweighs the potential annoyances. Plus, they are very brightly colored and large-ish, so they're easy to find if they roll away. I have to admit they are kind of expensive, but they entertained Luke far longer than anything else I bought.


Here's what I bought for Meike:


Big Book of Monster Stickers - Lots of people recommended crayons and paper/coloring books. I really don't want to have to keep track of crayons; stickers take up less space. This book is cool because it has games and puzzles; you don't just randomly put stickers anywhere. Stickers are grouped together and associated with particular pages. Some of the activities included pattern completion, finding the twin monster, grouping monsters by color, etc. Nothing in the book requires a drawing utensil. I'm pretty sure all kids love stickers.


iPad - Granted, I didn't actually buy this for Meike- it was my Mother's Day present. It's purpose is pretty self-explanatory. I uploaded movies onto my computer and then downloaded them to the iPad via iTunes. This is much more compact than carrying around a DVD-player and a bunch of DVDs. Plus, there's a bunch of games that Meike can play. Now, what am I going to do on the plane?


Kids Headphones - I splurged on these. I have plenty of adult headphones in every shape and style, but none of them work for Meike. The earbuds don't fit or fall out; the full headphones are too large and slide back and off of her head; she hates the clip-ons for some reason. These are comfortable for Meike and they're cute.


Sticker Dolly Dressing: Around the World - Another sticker book. Usborne Books makes a lot of really great sticker books, some that are even appropriate for Luke (I have to peel the stickers and help him with it, obviously). This one is great because it teaches Meike about different world customs associated with clothing. She gets to dress a couple for a traditional Japanese wedding and it explains the different pieces of clothing and the order in which they are supposed to be applied. Meike has a little trouble with the shoes sometimes, but otherwise she can do this unassisted.


IPlay Peek-A-Boo Bag - This is similar to the Find It games, but comes in a smaller pouch and is made for a  younger age range. These are great because the list of items to find includes pictures for non-readers. The tag snaps onto the back of the pouch when not in use. I also found a mom who makes a similar product from home.

Sex [Part 1]

I'm going to write this in a few segments because, honestly, I have a lot to say and I think you would get bored and give up if you had to read it all in one go.

I know it is a little early to be thinking about sex when it comes to my kids.  Although... Luke does really like attention from the ladies-when we're out to eat, he'll scream at women until they smile and coo at him. I digress. Let me preface this potential lecture by informing you that I have bouts of insomnia that lead to me watching A LOT of documentaries. Most recently, I watched a really great film called, "Let's Talk About Sex."

Shockingly enough, I am very open and comfortable with sex and sexuality (those of you who know me well are probably rolling your eyes and/or smirking). It is very important to me that my children not be encumbered by shame, fear, or ignorance regarding sexuality as they grow older. I am already making an effort to encourage conversations about this topic to be casual and normal in my household.

I can already hear you shouting at me. "WHAT?! You talk about sex with your 4 year-old?!"

Maybe this is the way to do it.

Let me clarify. No, I do not talk about sex with my 4 year-old. I DO talk about our bodies, anatomy, gender roles, and sexual orientation to an extent and in a manner that is appropriate for Meike's age. For example, Meike knows that she has a vagina, which we call a "peapod" (because it's hilarious). It wasn't a topic that I broached; Meike asked and I answered. She also knows that babies come out of vaginas, but that is the extent of the detail of her knowledge.

The first time I ever gave one iota of thought to the inevitability of talking to Meike about sex occured sometime last year. She was in the bath. Out of nowhere, she pointed to her clitoris and asked me what it was. I think I vomitted a little in my mouth. I tried to avoid answering the question; hoping she just meant the general region.

My first response went something like, "That's your peapod." She wanted more specific information. "No Mommy, what's THIS part, right HERE." At that point, I was sweating and bright red. "Um, that's um, that's your clitoris. Ready for me to wash your hair? No? How about we put some color tablets in the water...What color do you want?" She ignored my attempt to quickly change the topic and shouted, "I HAVE A CLIFFORD-IS." Images of the preschool calling me the next day informing me that my child was running around telling people about her "clifford-is" ran through my mind.

Luckily (for me, at least), she hasn't ever talked about or inquired about that part of her anatomy again. When I talked to Meike's dad about it, curious if she'd asked him any questions, he asked me why I even answered her. I wish I had an purposeful and empowering response, but all I said was, "I didn't know what to say. I was flustered. It just came out."

In hindsight, I'm glad I told her. And it's kind of a funny story. I want Meike to be able to ask questions and talk to me about that kind of stuff. Now when she asks questions, I want to be able to talk to her in a calm casual manner. While, at this point, giving her the minimum amount of information necessary to satisfy her curiosity.

I DON'T HATE MY MOM, PEOPLE!!!

Okay, deep breath. I'm going to explain my post Hey Mom! I'm better than You!, before I start getting death threats.

I know that there are crappy people out there, but some of you seem to have confused me for one of them. I still don't see it, but even my family seems to have thought I was serious. EVERYTHING I WRITE IS SARCASTIC AND MEANT TO BE FUNNY.

Let me break it down for you:

1. You were really good at scraping out all of the cookie dough/brownie mix/cake batter out of the bowl and off of the spoons. I am EXCELLENT at leaving enough in the bowl to make my kids think they lucked out when I let them lick it all out.
Do you really think, if I was going to compain about the wrongs of my childhood, my foremost concern would be brownie mix? This statement is the entire reason that I wrote this post. My daughter and I were making brownie bites for Father's Day and she kept asking to lick the bowl. It made me think about how my own mother always scraped those bowls meticulously and, at the time, I wished that she had not done such a good job of it.



2. I never allowed my sister (I KNOW I don't have one-whose fault is that, eh?) to tack all of my daughter's stuffed animals on her wall as some sort of macbre decoration. Therefore, my daughter never had to lie awake at night thinking about how pissed off those things must be up there and imagining them climbing down and eating her if she fell asleep. What kind of parent does that to their child?
Sure, I hate my mom for not birthing more female children. It's like reverse-China up in here. On no, I'm being sarcastic again. Everyone is now going to think that I hate male children, too! I can't win. Honestly, I did really lay there at night staring at those stuffed animals and imagining them come to eat me. I think I was 3yo. Even so, is this a reason I hate my mom? No. Because...I DON'T HATE MY MOM.

3. I only resort to saying, "Because I said so," when I've given a legitimate answer to the same question three consequtive times to no avail. I never use it as a response to a stupid question.
This is one of those things that I swore I'd never do. My point is that I also do, no matter how much I hate it. And I do as a response to stupid questions. There's that sarcasm again.

4. I don't issue hollow threats. When I say I'm going to throw away any toys that don't get picked up. I will SERIOUSLY put them all in a garbage bag and hide them in the garage.
Yes, I know that in reality putting toys in the garage is also am empty threat. That's the point.


5. I didn't have to move my kids to Texas so they could enjoy the toasty weather, playful fire ants, and excellent public school system. Mine got to be born here.
Just to clarify-the weather is swealtering, not toasty; fire ants are most definitely not playful; the public school system in Texas is one of the worst in the nation. And yes, Rob (my brother), points for pointing out that you and my younger brother were, actually, also born in Texas. One person commented that I'm dumb because I think the Texas public schools rock. Because I'm not sarcastic or anything.
6. I bought this crib toy after carefully weighing 50+ options because I wanted it to reflect my son's classic vintage style (not because it was $2 at a resale and I remembered it). You probably bought it because it was the only thing available at the time.
It's written in there! I bought this toy because it was $2 at a resale and I remembered it from my childhood. The only "style" my 1yo has is the style with which he climbs on anything higher than his ankle. And I could hardly blame my mother for the fact that there was less plastic crap 25 years ago then there is now. Come on, people.

All-in-all, I'm sorry Mom that you also misinterpretted this post and it was upsetting for you. It's meant to be entertaining, not malicious. In my "About Me" section, I state that I am incredibly sarcastic, to a fault (apparently). I don't want people upset. I specifically wrote the title to be provocative. And, hey, it worked- that post has generated more traffic for my blog than anything else I've ever written. So now I guess I have to write "THIS IS SARCASTIC AND NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY" at the top of every single thing that I write.

Sorry about the formatting errors and potential spelling errors. I wrote this quickly because I am leaving to take my kids to the zoo. You know, because I'm a horrible mom and all that.

Does this wife-beater come in size 12mo?

Luke's new favorite thing to do, besides climb on anything taller than his ankle, is to hit.  He likes to slap my chest while he's nursing. When I stopped him from doing that, he tried hitting his head a few times instead. Apparently, Luke doesn't find hitting himself all that fun.

Meike took a nap on the couch today. Luke was only having so much of that. She is his personal entertainment curator, after all. What's the best way to wake a sister up? Slap her in the face repeatedly and stick your finger up her nose. Fingers in the eye are also pretty effective.

I think he's learning that other people, oddly enough, are not fond of being hit. Luke has even generalized this to the cat in a somewhat sociopathic manner. He knows she likes to be pet, so when she comes near him, he says, "Awwwww." He pets her gently. She purrs and rubs against him. He hugs her. It's very adorable. And then, he strikes. He snatches a handful of her hair and skin, throws himself on top of her, and bops her on the head until she manages to scramble out from under him. 

Maybe I was wrong with the sherpa prediction. Maybe he's leaning more towards crocodile wrestling at this point in his life.

Hey Mom! I'm better than you!

*Update: THIS ENTIRE THING IS SARCASTIC AND NOT MEANT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY!


Dear Mom,

This is going to be a hard truth moment. I've recently realized that I am SIX times (I like to be mathmatically accurate) the Mom you ever were. Put your big girl panties on for this one.

Here are the facts:

1.  You were really good at scraping out all of the cookie dough/brownie mix/cake batter out of the bowl and off of the spoons. I am EXCELLENT at leaving enough in the bowl to make my kids think they lucked out when I let them lick it all out.

2.  I never allowed my sister (I KNOW I don't have one-whose fault is that, eh?) to tack all of my daughter's stuffed animals on her wall as some sort of macbre decoration. Therefore, my daughter never had to lie awake at night thinking about how pissed off those things must be up there and imagining them climbing down and eating her if she fell asleep. What kind of parent does that to their child?

3.  I only resort to saying, "Because I said so," when I've given a legitimate answer to the same question three consequtive times to no avail. I never use it as a response to a stupid question.

4.  I don't issue hollow threats. When I say I'm going to throw away any toys that don't get picked up. I will SERIOUSLY put them all in a garbage bag and hide them in the garage.

5.  I  didn't have to move my kids to Texas so they could enjoy the toasty weather, playful fire ants, and excellent public school system. Mine got to be born here.

6.  I bought this crib toy after carefully weighing 50+ options because I wanted it to reflect my son's classic vintage style (not because it was $2 at a resale and I remembered it). You probably bought it because it was the only thing available at the time.

But Mom, just know that despite your stark failures as a parent and my obvious successes therein, I still love you!

I DON'T REALLY HATE MY MOM!

Conversations with Meike

WARNING: This is a somewhat morbid, albeit hilarious, conversation. Context: Meike and I are discussing new cuisine. Meike is particularly disturbed by Jonathan's consumption of baby octopuses. Meike: That's mean to take the babies away from the mommies. Where do they get them? Me: I don't know. Maybe an octopus farm where the mommy octopuses have their babies and then the farmers take them away to eat them. Meike: Does that make the mommy octopuses sad? Me: Maybe. I would be sad if someone took Lukey away to eat him after he was born. I would cry every day. Meike: I would buy you a present. Then you would feel better. Me: I think I would still feel sad. Meike: I would try to make you a baby. Me: How would you do that? Meike: With paper. And plastic. (pause) And rubber and skin.

Luke will be my Death

I'm pretty sure that when Luke goes to sleep at night, he dreams about ways to give me a heart attack. Luke is the reason that people turn to baby proofing companies rather than just doing the common sense stuff. Luke is the reason that THESE exist.

I didn't understand all the extensive baby proofing stuff before Luke. I had a pretty laissez-faire attitude about it all. I thought it was for people who didn't bother actually watching their kids. I put the obligatory outlet covers around the apartment (where we were living at the time) when Meike was a baby. Oh, and a bumper on the coffee table- she just ripped it off AND it was hideous AND it left an impenetrable trail of goo).

Enter Luke. Here is just a sampling of his craziest stunts:

The whole family was in the living room. Jonathan and I were snuggling on the couch while the kids played. I kissed Jonathan and looked up to find Luke STANDING ON THE PLAY KITCHEN. In hindsight, I wish I had gotten a picture. At the time, I screamed and grabbed him. He couldn't get back up again. I'm still not sure how he did it. He couldn't even stand yet!

It was 5am. I blocked off the living room and fell half asleep on the couch while Luke ate Cheerios and played on the floor. I looked up and saw Luke standing up and pushing his swing back and forth. I blinked (my eyes were possibly closed for a minute or two) and Luke was sitting in the swing. How the hell did he get in there? The seat is at his head level!

Our coffee table has "hidden storage" drawers at each end. Luke pulled out a drawer, climbed into said drawer, and used that as a stepping stool up to the glass-topped coffee table proper. He did this one time, which was apparently all he really needed to get the logistics down. The very next day, he slapped his palms down on the glass top and just hauled himself up. And then stood up, obviously.

Luke stacked up his two stuffed animals in an attempt to jump over the side of his crib. He may or may not have been suicidal due to breast milk withdrawal.

I'm starting the think that Luke may have baby teleportation superpowers.

Conversations with a Four-year Old

I'm going to honor you all with weekly postings of life-changing interviews with Meike. I'm fairly certain she's going to take over the world some day... Or, at least Texas. Me: If you were the President, what would you do to make the world a better place? Meike: Helping things. Me: What kind of "helping things?" Meike: Food. Me: What about food? Meike: I would give the people it. Me: What kind of food? Meike: Milk. And cookies. I would have all kinds of milk. Buttermilk pie, too. The President would drive it to their houses.

Procrastination Nation

I am a terrible procrastinator; possibly the worst.  I am writing this blog right now in order to procrastinate doing anything actually productive.  Law of least effort and all that (don't interpret it strictly or it makes absolutely no sense in this situation, aside from the fact that I'm exerting minimal effort).  I think that I've made a New Year's Resolution that goes something like this every year for the past ten years, "I will no longer put off things that I can do right now."  I've probably thought of more clever ways to say it, though.

Every other weekend, when Meike is with her dad, Jonathan and I swear to each other that we are going to get some deep cleaning done.  Come Saturday morning (Friday night doesn't really count, does it?), this is what happens:

1. 7:00 - I give Jonathan the baby after nursing him and tell him to wake me back up in an hour. And THEN I'm going to issue a serious smack down on the dust bunnies (ie cat-hair bunnies) under the couch that blow out when I turn on the fan to dry the just-mopped (around the couch) floor.
2. 8:00 - Jonathan brings Luke back to me.  Luke nurses and falls back asleep.  As do I.  So does Jonathan (minus the nursing).
3. 11:00 - Everyone wakes up.  We will definitely start cleaning now.  After we have coffee.  And breakfast.
4. 11:20 - Since the kitchen is too messy to make breakfast, we go the the Pancake House (I will absolutely accept an endorsement from you Pancake House, as long as it's in the form of free pancakes).  We'll clean the kitchen when we get home.
5. 13:00 - Luke is ready to take a nap again.  I nurse him in bed and fall asleep with him.  I can't set the alarm because that would wake Luke up.  I'm only thinking of what's best for him, of course.  I tell Jonathan to wake me up in case I fall asleep.
6. 15:00 - Luke and I wake up to find Jonathan asleep on the couch.  I'm sure he did some laundry or something while we were sleeping.  Uh, nope.
7. 15:30 - I am going to clean the bathroom.  Oh, wait, I need to dump some Draino in there.  Hmm... I better do that before I wash the tub, right?
8. 16:00 - Let's go to Sam's Club to get Draino.
9. 17:00 - Arrive at Sam's Club.  I know that was a whole hour lapse, but remember it takes a long time to get the baby ready and out of the house.  He'll probably puke or poop on his clothes in order to slow us down.  Then I'll have to wait on Jonathan.  
10. 18:30 - My grocery list of "Draino" turns into $200 worth of stuff that I have no idea how I lived without prior to discovering them at Sam's Club. This may or may not include Fizzy Low-Calorie Energy Drink Supplements at $20 for 10 pouches.  Trust me, it's amazing.  Or at least better than Mountain Dew.  Actually, it's disgusting and it's in my pile of "Shit to Return to Sam's Club."  Those demo people are tricky.
11. 19:00 - It's dinner time.  Let's clean the kitchen so we can cook.  On second thought, let's just cook a frozen pizza to minimize additional mess.  What goes best with frozen pizza?  Why a movie, of course.  We'll clean up a bit after the movie.  We've had a long day, after all.  Full of sleeping and shopping.  Rough.
12. 21:30 - Time to get Luke ready for bed.  Jonathan will do some sort of cleaning while I give Luke a bath and nurse him to sleep.  
13. 22:30 - Luke is finally asleep and Jonathan was doing God-knows-what on the the computer the whole time.  He runs into the garage to pretend he was doing laundry when he hears me coming down the stairs.  Laundry takes a lot of time, you know.
14. 23:00 - Let's call it a night.  We'll catch up on our sleep and REALLY be ready to clean in the morning.

I think you get the idea.  My house is a mess.  Luke is currently wearing a short-sleeved onesie in his crib because there are no other clean clothes.  Except socks; I suppose I could pile those on top of him to keep him warm.    

Indecent Exposure

I've read about this happening, mostly in funny stories about parenthood or cornball movies.  But it happened to me.  Well, to us.  That's right, IT happened.  I know you're all dying to know what the hell I'm talking about, so I will share this embarrassing story because I do not care about my personal dignity as much as I care about making you laugh.

Meike walked in on us the other night.  Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Total mood killer.  Luckily, the room was dark and we were still partially clothed.  All she could have possibly seen was Jonathan hunched over on the bed without a shirt on, so it wasn't exactly X-rated.  Thank God.  I don't even remember why she had to come in the room.  Maybe she had to pee and needed the bathroom light on or something.  Yeah, that was it; we bought one of those light switch extension things for kids the next day.

So, as I'm getting Meike back to bed, she says to me, "What was Jon-Jon doing to you?"  It was such a classic cliche parenting moment.  I immediately burst out laughing, which was the exact opposite of what I should have done.  By laughing, I seared the moment into Meike's pretty little brain as something amusing.  I laughed so hard I had to pee.  I couldn't even answer her, because I couldn't catch my breath.  Thankfully, she didn't ask again.  I think she has forgotten about it.

That one innocent query did manage to ruin the rest of the night, in terms of further... fun.  Each time Jonathan tried to re-initiate, I would burst out laughing and say, "What was Jon-Jon doing to you?"  I couldn't get it out of my head.

We will be investing in locks in the future.

Anger Management

Luke seems to have made me into an angry person.  I don't remember being this angry when Meike was a baby.  My anger is very specific...it's targeted at NOISE, because it routinely wakes the baby up.  Seriously, any noise.  It's become so ingrained that I even get mad at sounds when Luke is in a separate building.  Obviously, this is some sort of sleep-deprivation-induced new-mom-hormone madness (that's basically my excuse for everything weird that I do).

Here are some of the more recent sounds that have made me instantly irate:

• The dog walking on the hardwood floor.  I cannot cut those nails short enough (Luke's either, come to think of it).
• Cat food pouring into their dishes.  It's like an avalanche.
• Car doors being closed when the baby is asleep inside.  I have taken to closing the door as quietly as possible and then leaning on it with my butt until it catches.
• Jonathan emptying the dishwasher downstairs on the opposite side of the house, while I'm upstairs in the bedroom, with the door on and the humidifier acting as a white noise machine.
• Children playing and laughing while Luke is sleeping in public.  Their happiness is so inconsiderate.
• The sound that Jonathan's slippers make on the floor because he shuffles when he walks in them.
• Flushing the toilet in the master bath when Luke is asleep in the bed.  "If it's yellow, let it mellow..." has become my mantra.
• My cat has some sort of upper respiratory issue that causes him to have reverse-sneezing fits.  I've actually tossed his noisy ass into the hallway while he's coughing to spare the baby.  I have no remorse.

I could probably go on forever with these.  I'm surprised Meike is not afraid to talk near the baby at this point.

All-or-Nothing

I've been meaning to write about this for a while, but Mommy-duty is the Great Interrupter.  I've been feeling lately like I do not exist as a person outside of being a mom. But enough about that, for now.

Although not exclusive to the world of parenting, the all-or-nothing mentality is especially applicable to motherhood.  There's a new child-rearing philosophy (or as I like to call them, "baby trend") every month and it's hard to keep up.  Whatever new-age practices that were current during your first child's early years will almost certainly be outdated by the time you have the next, even if that's just a year later.  If you hang out with other new moms, you will probably feel pressure (whether self-imposed or otherwise) to choose a stance among the current regimes.

I remember when Meike was a baby and I read a scintillating article about Attachment Parenting.  I decided to read up on it, out of curiousity.  Much to my surprise, I found that I was already doing most of the things to which Attachment Parents subscribed.  But I couldn't check off all of those eight "Bs" (or however many there are) and therefore could not actually call myself an "Attachment Parent."

Luke had one bottle of formula when he was in the NICU and I felt like I failed him.  When Meike was 8mos old and I went back to work, I couldn't keep up with pumping exclusively.  And it made me feel selfish and lazy that I didn't want to pump every three hours at work.  But that didn't mean that I gave up breastfeeding entirely.  I nursed her when I was home and she had formula when I was gone.  With Luke, we tried using cloth diapers when we were home and disposables while we were out.  I buy organic when I can, but not exclusively.

There are a lot of aspects of mothering that seem to be some standard by which to measure just how committed and awesome you are in that role.  You either "are" or "are not," there are no Venn diagrams.  Are you breastfeeding? Well that baby better have never even had so much as a sniff of formula, or you might as well give up the boob immediately.  Baby having sleeping issues?  Pick a sleep-training theory and stick to it or you are most certainly setting your child up to be a 35-year old insomniac that still sleeps in your bed.  Time-outs?  Passe.  Use traditional baby food?  Tsk, tsk-that kid's going to be injecting that little fatty full of insulin before you know it.

It is emotionally and physically exhausting trying to keep up with all of the parenting standards that we are bombarded with.  It makes you wonder how civilization made it this long.  I mean, how did all those kids survive sleeping on their stomachs?  I think it's important to step back and think about what feels right for you and your baby.  What makes sense for your family.  These labels that we are trying to apply to ourselves are parenting fads that are forever changing.  A little bit of this, a little bit of that-whatever keeps you sane and your baby smiling.

Luke is calling, from my bed.  So I guess we are co-sleepers...some days.

Disgusting Diva

Is it wrong to be disgusted by your own child?  Well, too bad, because I am.  Meike has been super uber gross lately and I've been having to exert some tremendous self control to not say anything that will result in her having therapy-worthy self-image issues by the time she's five.

She's been peeing in her pants fairly regularly.  The degree of peeing varies, but the smell is pretty constant.  She either accumulates small drops throughout the day or full out pees on the couch while screaming at me that she doesn't have to go to the bathroom.  It seems like every time I pick her up, my hand/hip/arm gets wet.  It's really gross.  We're currently investing in Sam's Club-size carpet cleaning products.  I'm considering plastic clothes (for me).

Meike's nails grow at an alarming rate.  And with them, an accumulation of an insane amount of grime.  I have to clean her nails out every day so that she doesn't look homeless.  Now I understand why Jonathan is so neurotic about Meike putting her hands near Luke's mouth.

For some reason, Meike has recently started drooling.  When she laughs, she drools.  While I'm brushing her teeth, she drools.  While she's sleeping, she drools.  This wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for her horrific breath.  Her father and I have actually had conversations about it.  You do not want to be within a 5-ft radius of her mouth when she wakes up in the morning.  Seriously, you don't.  I made a few dentist appointments for her while I was pregnant, because there was enough making me nauseous as it was.  But, for whatever reasons, we kept having to cancel or reschedule.  I promise to get on that.  If only to spare Luke, who has Meike in his face 24/7.

In addition to all of these cuddle-inducing characteristics, Meike has been maxing out her annoying quotient.  She has apparent developed some crazy version of fibromyalgia that involves every single part of her body.  You cannot do anything to that girl without her whining about it hurting.  I should probably contact a medical journal, because it gets even weirder.  Meike's terrible disease intensifies near bedtime.

Cleaning her nails hurts.  Cutting her nails hurts.  Holding her hand over the sink hurts.  Being wiped with a wet washcloth hurts, with our without soap.  The blue bubblegum toothpaste hurts her teeth, which requires her to spit it all over my hands while I'm brushing them.  Putting her shirt on hurts her head.  Putting her socks on squishes her toes.  All blankets that are not pink assault her skin.  Washing her hair, conditioning her hair, and, of course, brushing her hair all elicit high-pitched screams.  The list goes on.  She's going to need a morphine drip by next week at this rate.  Or I am.

There's a Waffle in my Bathtub

In all honesty, there's actually a waffle in Meike's bathtub.  If we're considering who cleans and pays for said bathtub, ownership gets a little fuzzy.  And actually, it's not actually in the bathtub, but sitting up on the side.  I have no idea what brought Meike from eating breakfast at the downstairs table to abandoning the waffle in the upstairs bathroom (there's one downstairs, right next to the kitchen?).  I am assuming it was Meike, but I can just as easily picture Jonathan walking through various bathrooms muttering, "Leggo my Eggo."

Stranger things have happened when Jonathan is in charge of the children.  I'm sure all you moms out there have more interesting stories about Dad-watching-the-kids fiascoes.  I am sick and Luke is sick, so Jonathan is [sort of] in charge.  This basically means that Meike watches movies and wakes me up if there is anything "debatable" that needs settling.  Some previously debated topics have included: in what room diapers should be removed, how soon after waking diapers should be removed, and where diapers should go once they have been removed.  Meike and Jonathan argue about really important issues.  My house would probably implode if one of them did not awaken me from my semi-slumber (as I lay there listening to them arguing) to settle the disagreement.

Now that I've set up the scene for my rant, here it goes...

Why is it that men, in general, (I'm sure there are some competent ones out there who've learned through keen observation) seem to lack a natural ability to treat with children?  You guys just make things so much more complicated then they need to be.  Before arguing with your child, ask yourself the following questions:

Will this harm my child or another beyond reasonable repair?

Could I be imprisoned for what my child is currently doing? 

Will this result in me (or someone else you'd rather not deal with) spending a large amount of money?

If the answer is, "No," to all of those questions, then don't argue about it.  Your child will learn from natural consequences.  Or they will grow up to be the bane of civilization (but at least the hypothetical sick mom who was up all night nursing the hypothetical sick baby will get some uninterrupted sleep).  

Furthermore, I don't think it's fair that men can so easily put aside their fatherly duties.  For instance, if I want to go out for two hours without children, I have to prepare.  I have to find an appropriate caretaker.  I have to teach the caretaker the innumerable specifications of caring for my children.  Such painstaking details include everything from how many seconds to microwave the rice cereal to on which side the baby needs to be rocked to sleep so that he will stay asleep once he is put down (which isn't going to work anyway).  I need to pump milk in advance.  I need to bring a hand-held breast pump with me in case there's too much traffic or an earthquake or I'm having fun and don't want to go home.  I need to wear clothes that allow me to pump unencumbered, do not highlight my newly squishy post-baby belly, and hide those itchy nursing pads.  I need to plan and prepare the meals that will be made and eaten in my absence.  The list goes on...  

A man just needs to walk out the door; shower optional.

I would never even conceive of thinking about going out for eight hours to play "disc golf" (whatever the hell that is) and "have a few beers with the guys."  Especially not with a sick spouse and baby.  And if I did, I would come home spraying milk everywhere like a water sprinkler, which might actually be helpful because my house would probably be on fire because I did not respond to the 600 texts I received while I was out.

I acknowledge that this post sounds particularly biased and bigoted.  The truth hurts.

My Three Month-Old is Not Potty-Trained

That's right, I said three MONTH-old.  I did not mean to write three year-old, even though that would make a little more sense.  At least I thought so before today.  Apparently, Luke is behind the ball.  You'd think that sitting up unassisted would be a prerequisite for sitting on a porcelain bowl, but alas, it is not.

Ever heard of "EP-ing?"  I had a vague idea of it that I learned from...I don't know, probably the Daily Show or something.  For those of you not in the know (losers), EP stands for.. Oh man, I just looked it up because I could not form a sentence cohesive enough to describe it to you and discovered that it is actually called "EC-ing."  Turns out I'm the loser.

I digress.  So EC stands for Elimination Communication (aka Elimination Potty Training, must of been were I got the "P" from).  You are supposed to watch your infant for cues that they have to "eliminate" waste.  Then you somehow rush them the the toilet and dangle them there until it all comes out.  Here, let's test your skills.

Look at the following pictures and try to choose the one in which Luke is peeing (he's wearing a diaper because I'm old-fashioned like that):

 A

B

Could you tell which one it was?  Me neither.  But he was definitely moving in B (see the blur?).  

Diapers it is, Luke!

Ironically, this practice has produced such dignified publications as Trickle Treat and Potty Whispering.  I kid you not.  Are people really in such a rush for their babies to grow up?  Can't we just enjoy the ride?  

When you have a baby, you know what's involved before it arrives.  Diapers, drool, and spit-up.  Maybe you didn't know just how much of it was involved, but you were at least aware of the general implications of infant care.  I will liken the situation to getting a cat.  When you get a cat, you know it needs a litter box.  But, despite knowing this, do you potty-train your cat to fit your ideal Bohemian lifestyle?  No, you just keep on truckin with that pooper scooper.

One more fun fact:

ECed babies are free from the problems of conventional diapering: 

...not being able to explore this area...

That's been a big worry of mine.  I've been thinking lately, while changing his diapers, "How is Luke going to touch his penis frequently with this damn diaper in the way."  Problem solved!

Just in case I was too quickly dismissing the key to enhanced attachment with Luke, I asked him if he felt like we were not communicating enough about his elimination needs.  He drooled on me.