Muffin (holding his baby sister):
“Madam Poopsalot will be my friend when she grows up.”
Madam Poopsalot:
“Tooooooooooot!”
Muffin (very serious):
“That’s okay. She can poop on me.”
Now that is dedication and enlightenment! I am so proud.
Beware The Big Boy Bed
July 20th, 2010 by jHave I mentioned yet that I plan to keep Muffin in his crib until he’s ready to leave home? Sound a bit much? Well, those who know Muffin know well that he’s my Energizer Bunny and will go to amazing lengths to stay awake and keep the party going. At 3 years old, all of Muffin’s little friends are in “real” beds now. Despite the fear of his answer, I have asked him on several occasions if he would like a big boy bed.
Then I hold my breath and wait for the answer.
Thankfully, so far each time he responds with, “No, I like my crib”. There is in fact a God! We just came back from a 10 day trip to Canada and since Muffin is too big for a pack-n-play, we were forced to go the big boy bed route on the trip.
For the first time ever.
On our “vacation”.
Stupid? Kinda.
The first night we were staying with my friends in Vancouver, where we were sleeping in the same room as Muffin. OMG – nothing to contain him and sleeping in the same room? I knew that was to be a recipe for disaster. The first night went something like this:
8:00pm – Put Muffin and Madam Poopsalot to bed.
8:02pm – Muffin gets up out of his AWESOME Taun Taun sleeping bag and comes upstairs where Mommy, Daddy & friends are trying to eat a kidless dinner.
8:45pm – after taking Muffin back to bed and lying with him a while I go back upstairs to eat my cold dinner and drink my warm wine
8:50pm – we hear strange noises coming from muffin’s room. I go to investigate and find all (and I mean ALL) of our hosts children’s toys scattered on the floor with Muffin in the eye of the tornado, playing happily.
I marched Muffin back to bed and the dance continued for hours. We finally gave up and decided to go to bed ourselves. Muffin was, of course, delighted and still awake and wanting to play. The rest of the night was even more painful. His Taun Taun sleeping bag was beside our blow up mattress on the floor. I closed my eyes and tried not to engage him but he’d come up and try to pry my eyelids open while whispering (within an inch of my face), “Mommy, are you awake? Mommy, are you sleeping? Mommy, let’s play”. Aggravatingly painful – I was so tired and just wanted to sleep!
That night I got about 3 hours of sleep and so did Muffin. As you can imagine we were both very pleasant the next day. Actually, he was fine. Energizer Bunny – remember? I, on the other hand…
Mercifully, that was only for two nights. Then off to my mom’s house where we had a different room for each child and ourselves. This went much better. Though we still had some issues. With no toys in his bedroom at Grandma’s, Muffin now had to be creative.
He dug deep.
About 30 mins after we put him to bed, he comes out of his room and says he’s not tired. Admittedly, in Vancouver in the summertime it is light out until about 10pm, which Muffin is not used to. So, as I gently turn him around to walk him back to bed I see what has been keeping him busy for the past 30 mins. He’s got his blanky and baby bear and puppy and flatopotamus stuffed into his pajama bottoms. Although, not conducive to our tactical plan to get him to sleep, we had to allow ourselves a good laugh and stop for a photo on the way back to bed.
Giveaway: OneThingToday is To-Do List Kryptonite!
June 30th, 2010 by j
Is your to-do list a bloated scary monster? Mine is. Before I had children, I used to pride myself on how very efficient I was. Now, with two small children I feel like I am constantly crazy busy, yet never get anything done! How is this possible?! Small children require a lot of hands-on, interactive parenting, and while it’s a short-lived job, it leaves little time to accomplish all your tasks. The cherry on top is that you are utterly exhausted come bedtime and yet there is still a mountain of things undone on that annoying to-do list. Parents are multitasking fiends and are indeed a special species all of their own. Homo Parenteous Insaneous Multitaskus.
Enter OneThingToday. It’s an awesome to-do app for the iPhone and the Mac. It helps you to focus on one single goal each day, avoiding the distraction of all your other pending tasks or ongoing projects. You simply assign a single task or project to each day and Git ‘er Done! OneThingToday is designed for people who only have time to tackle one major task each day, and who find themselves overwhelmed by all their pending tasks in their limited time. It helps you prioritize the one thing that is most important for you to complete each day. It is genius in it’s simplicity. As one user puts it, “…you will be amazed at how good you feel as you start to whittle away at what was previously an overwhelming to-do list.”
It is just what I needed! Today, for instance, while wading neck-deep in all of my regular daily tasks, I was finally able to get rid of the bags of clothing I’ve been meaning to take to Goodwill (for the past 2 months) because it was my OneThingToday task. Hooray!
OneThingToday is not only good for Insaneous Multitaskeous, it’s also good for iPhoneus Irritateus, the executive mom or dad. The iPhone app is available at the iPhone app store and the Mac version is available from Line Thirteen.
Full disclosure: OneThingToday is brought to you from your friendly neighborhood biophysicist. My brilliant husband, Dr. McCutiePants, actually developed this software. He’s got a passion for programming. I’d like to think he did it all for me because he loves me so much, but I’m guessing he did it to finally get me to remove all those bags of Goodwill donations from our garage!
WIN IT!
To Enter: Simply leave a comment here telling me what your OneThingToday task would be for the day. Also please specify which app you would like to win – the iPhone app or the Mac version. Winner will be selected at random.
For extra entries:
- If you ‘Like’ Absolutely Delightful on Facebook, you get another extra entry.
- Blog about this giveaway with a link back to me.
- Follow me @AbsDelightful on Twitter and tweet about this giveaway.
Closes July 21, 2010 at 5pm PST
Dad Tip: Popcorn Smells
June 29th, 2010 by DrMcCutiePantsThere is a special time of day in every parent’s life. It’s the time of day after the kids go to bed, and before the parent goes to bed. Sometimes it’s a time for tasks and chores, but if you’re lucky it’s a time for relaxation, talking to your spouse without constant interruption, and maybe even some treats.
Last night the treat of choice was popcorn. This was a very, very bad idea. About a minute after the popcorn came out of the microwave, we started to hear muffin saying something, then saying loudly something, and then finally yelling something.
It’s at this point in the story that you may notice I said after the kids go to bed and not after the kids fall asleep.
Daddy are you making popcorn?
Daddy I smell popcorn
DADDY ARE YOU MAKING POPCORN?
DADDY ARE YOU MAKING POPCORN?
I SMELL POPCORN
Oops.
Popcorn, as you probably know, has a fairly powerful and distinctive smell. Our home, as you may not know, has a strange and distinctive geometry that funnels smells right upstairs directly into Muffin’s room. Muffin, as you probably do not know, has an unusually keen sense of smell.
Luckily, when I went upstairs to talk to him, he was easily convinced that it was probably our neighbors making popcorn outside. Silly, silly boy.
Sometimes I Really Would Rather Have My Teeth Drilled.
June 26th, 2010 by jIt’s 2:47am and I’m up with the baby screaming (the baby, not me). I’ve fed her 3 times and tried every single thing I can think of to help her. Cuddled her, took her temperature, looked for finger, toe, nose, ear, tourniquets. Nothing. She doesn’t even want to nurse. She is just tired and frustrated that she can’t get back to sleep. So am I. And this is what being a Mother is all about; up at all hours of the night looking for toe tourniquets! Okay, okay, maybe not all about, but over two babies, I have spent an astonishing amount of my time looking for body-part tourniquets.
A few weeks ago, I had a couple of fillings replaced at the dentist and I actually enjoyed it! Being able to lie down in the middle of the day and close my eyes for a whole 60 minutes! Uninterrupted! Never mind that that glorious hour also included multiple needle pokes and drilling of teeth. Beggars can’t be choosers. If the baby doesn’t stop crying by 3am, I’ll be forced to begin continue the nightly ritual of chocolate-snarfing in hopes of more downtime in the dentist chair!
Monster Nightlight
June 20th, 2010 by jFrom a mile away, I can see that this is not a good idea. At least not for a 3 year old. The purpose of a nightlight for kids is to help them not be afraid of the dark.
Isn’t it?
Right?
I’m right, aren’t I?
Who would think pairing a monster and a nightlight would be a good idea? Apparently Circo does. And my husband.
I sent he and Muffin to Target last weekend to pick a nightlight out because as of the past week Muffin has wanted the lights on when he sleeps. Well, Dr. McCutiePants came back with this….
When questioned by my raised eyebrow, he said that it was the one that Muffin picked out himself and really wanted. Hmmmm, okay. Well, we’ll try it but Mommy is thinking a glowing green monster is not going to help him get over being afraid of the dark. Astonishingly, it did! I thought I’d have to eat my words.
But then Muffin saved me the trouble.
The second night I could tell that there was some unease starting to bubble to the surface. So, that night when I tucked Muffin in, I also tucked Monster in and even gave them both a kiss goodnight.
About an hour later it happened.
I hear a blood curdling scream coming from Muffin’s room. I’m talking a scream that would put Psycho’s Scream Queen, Janet Lee’s shower performance to shame. At that moment, I knew Monster was going back to Target.
Dashing into Muffin’s room, I found him quivering in the far corner of his crib staring and pointing at Monster saying, “He turned! He turned!”. Meanwhile Monster was just staring back with his vacant eyes and sharp-toothed smile. No amount of convincing would make Muffin realize that Monster is in fact friendly. In no uncertain terms Muffin requested that Monster be immediately banished from the bedroom and returned to the store.
Muffin has not asked for the lights to be left on, or for another nightlight since. Thanks Circo, for helping my child resolve his fear of the dark and saving me fifteen bucks.
Happy Mother’s Day!
June 13th, 2010 by jYes, I know…that was last month. Sadly I’m a month behind. Recently my part-time PAID consulting has increased and between that and my full-time real job(s) of milk-bag, drool-wiper, nose-wiper, bum-wiper, tear-wiper, human snot rag, dishwasher, maid, nurse, personal food taster, personal dresser, personal shopper, personal assistant, personal groomer, counsellor, motivational coach, and cheerleader…the blog has taken a bit of a back-seat.
Okay, so back to Mother’s Day and the post that I have been wanting to write for the past month. It’s about mother-in-laws. Specifically mine.
Mother-in-laws have a bad rap. Whenever I talk to my friend L, she brings up her mother-in-law, whom she loathes. In a gush of verbal diarrhea, she will list her mother-in-law’s most recent offences: she showed up unexpectedly, she stayed for hours, she “reorganized” the kitchen drawers. Then, pausing a moment to catch her breath, L will say, “Oh, you know how it is,” as if all daughter-in-laws belong to some anti-mother-in-law (not-so) secret society where we rage and commiserate about our inherited misfortune.
Well, here’s the thing: I do not belong to that club. I am one of those rare women who happen to love their mother-in-law. I got a good one and I fully recognize it. I am lucky, yes.
My mother-in-law is one of the savviest and generous women I know. She doesn’t deserve the bad rap that so many MILs get. I’ll admit though, I was a little worried before I met her. It was while Dr. McCutiePants and I were still just dating. Upon being “prepped” for my first meeting with her I was told that she was very assertive and very frank. “She’ll tell you exactly what she thinks,” I was warned. I wondered if she’d size me up and then announce brazenly, “Nope, not for my son!”
Our first time meeting each other was at a local dive bar in downtown San Francisco. The restaurant at which we had intended on meeting wasn’t yet open and so this was the closest thing open that served alcohol. They had just finished a round of golf and were fresh from the course and thristy. Later I would learn that she was chagrined that this was the venue of our first introduction. Well, maybe only slightly chagrined…she thought it was terribly funny.
That evening I realized that Dr. McCutiePants was right: his mother was very direct and unmistakably in charge. I was instantly captivated. She was strong, self-assured, and engaging. She was not afraid to speak her mind…and yet she also was very aware of the feelings and situation of others. Best of all, she had raised two boys to be very good men.
During the 6 years that I have known her, she has taught me a lot – everything from how to fold a fitted sheet so well that you’d swear it was a flat sheet to how to make the perfect yorkshire pudding. But more than anything else, she’s shown me a picture of a devoted and successful wife, mother, and woman. Although we are different in many more ways than we are similar, occasionally my husband will say, “Boy, sometimes I think I married my mother!”. I can’t think of a nicer compliment.
Sadly, she passed away from cancer last September. She fought hard and bravely, and with grace. Her funeral had over 250 attendees and was standing room only. She touched the lives of many and was very loved. I didn’t get enough time with her. None of us did. But her huge strong personality lives on, guiding us and still making us laugh.
And Now, Time for a Little Bathroom Improv Theatre.
April 24th, 2010 by j
Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased with how clearly Muffin speaks for a just-turned- 3-year-old. And you never have to ask him to turn up the volume. It’s always fully cranked. Oh joy.
There have been several embarrassing times that I’ve wished the meaning of his words would have been masked by a not-so-audible voice, but never have I wished this more than last week at SeaWorld. I had to go pee. So, I wheeled Muffin’s stroller into the restroom stall with me and went about my business. While I’m mid-stream, Muffin says (in his sonic boom toddler voice), “Are you going BIG MASSIVE poop on the potty, Mommy?”
Cringe. “No, Muffin, Mommy’s going pee.” To which Muffin replies excitedly, “BIG MASSIVE pee?!!!”
The restroom was packed, of course. I think I may have even heard a snicker or two.
Where is the fine print in the Motherhood Contract, where I signed away every bit of my dignity and privacy? Lately it seems, more often than not, that I have a 38 inch tall shadow (with verbose running commentary) accompanying me wherever I go. Even when urinating, showering, dressing – you name it. There’s nothing like being able to share the running commentary of your pee process in the company of strangers.
Ah Motherhood.
But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin while he leaned back and grabbed his sippy cup with his chubby little hands, I thought, I’d sign all my dignity and privacy away again, just to be known as Mommy to this little guy.
Hey Darwin, Where’s My Third Arm?
April 13th, 2010 by j
If I could have dinner with any famous dead person, it would be Charles Darwin.
Without a doubt.
On behalf of all mothers everywhere, I want to know why the hell we haven’t grown a third arm yet? And when the hell are we going to?!
Our species, Insanus Multitaskus is waiting.
Come on, Evolution throw us a bone will ya! It’s been hundreds of thousands of years that we’ve been schlepping around sleeping babies or crying toddlers (or both), while we simultaneously try to make dinner or fill a sippy cup one handed. We need another arm, dammit! So, Darwin, when is it coming? Have you ever tried to make dinner one-handed? Or how about changing a diaper while simultaneously trying to keep four continuously moving limbs out of the poopie-pie?
Come to think of it, that third arm should be a special bionic arm;
- Extra fast and long; able to reach out in a flash and catch that speedy preschooler before he gets away.
- Super bendable and able to contort impressively and reach that fallen toy in the backseat of the car while still driving.
How about eyes in the back of our head? I’m sure all mothers everywhere can appreciate how incredibly useful this would be. Nature should be working on that. Instead we have a tailbone. Oh hurray. A tailbone. Fabulous. As far as I can tell, the only use a tailbone serves us is to provide yet another place of pain during, and after, childbirth. My tailbone still freaking hurts, and it’s been 5 months since Madam Poopsalot’s birth! Come on Evolution, a tailbone?! Seriously?
Easter: Earthquakes & Bunny Roadkill
April 8th, 2010 by j
Ahhh, another crazy week. Easter really took it out of me. I ambitiously decided to make these Martha Stewart Lemon Tassies as well as these cute Easter cupcakes for a (kids) dinner party we were going to on Sunday. They came out beautifully, but man am I ever slow at baking now that I have a toddler and a baby. It’s insane. And annoying.
LawyerSarah describes this very well in her post here. Essentially, it’s a “How To” on how to make Banana Bread…in 3 hours.
1. Feed baby until he falls asleep. Good, he should sleep long enough so you can get some breakfast.
2. Find a good recipe while you eat breakfast. There’s a potluck today, and you have overripe bananas to get rid of.
3. Enjoy your breakfast and coffee, then preheat the oven.
4. Baby is waking up. Change his diaper, give him a pacifier, cross your fingers and put him down.
5. Get out the flour and sugar. By the time they hit the counter, baby is screaming again.
6. Try the pacifier one more time.
7. Get out the measuring cup. Pacifier didn’t work, he’s crying again. Measure out the flour anyway.
8. Feed the baby. By now, the oven is preheated. Oh well, it will stay warm. You’re nursing.
9. Baby has fallen asleep after a bit. Try to put him down, and of course he wakes up again. Play with him, and give him the pacifier again. He may entertain himself for a couple of minutes.
10. Measure out sugar.
11. Get the new package of sugar from the pantry. At least you thought of this when you went grocery shopping 2 days ago (in one of his quiet moments). This infant scheduling your life has really helped you be more prepared! (Girl scouts aside …)
12. He’s fussing again. Check diaper – has he pooped yet? I could tell he was working on it, and poor baby hasn’t pooped in 3 days.
13. Darn it. In the middle of baking for a potluck, you’re disappointed baby doesn’t have a poopy diaper. How is that for an infant scheduling your life?
14. Put baby down. Measure out salt and baking soda while you listen to him complain.
15. Put baby in sling. Turn off the music from his swing. Two months old and it’s already driving you nuts, you realize one day he will be big enough to turn the music on himself.
16. Mash the bananas. Wish he were old enough for solids so you could give him some of these yummy mashed bananas. Fortunately he’s doing well with breastmilk (how did he suddenly get big enough for a 6-month outfit?)
17. Baby is squirming too much. Walk around for a few minutes.
18. Combine eggs and bananas.
19. Stir in dry ingredients.
20. Walk around for a while, baby is too squirmy in the sling. Try a pacifier.
21. Put the bread dough in the pan while you sing the “put the bread dough in the pan” song.
22. Put the baby down again. He’s quiet!
23. Put the bread in the oven, and bake for an hour.
24. Enjoy 15 minutes of silence while baby sleeps (and you start on dinner). Sleep when baby sleeps? How does that work?
It’s really depressing how much I can relate to that. But look how cute my cupcakes turned out! Toot toot!
So after taking several hours to make cupcakes, I decided I needed still more punishment and so we decided to go to Target to run an errand. Big mistake. It seems Target was the only place in a 100 mile radius that was open on Easter. And every single person in that 100 mile radius was at this Target. It was insanely busy and Muffin was all hopped up on Easter sugar from his Easter basket pilfering. The trip just about put me and Dr. McCutiePants over the edge.
A few blocks from home, with my nerves already in a bundle, we just barely missed running over a little bunny that darted across the street right in front of us. That would have really put me over the edge. Running over a sweet little bunny and hearing that thu-thump sound and then having to explain to Muffin what just happened. On Easter no less! Fortunately we missed that little bunny but we came home to another little bunny that was not so lucky. Fortunately, this one was of the chocolate kind. Muffin’s chocolate Easter bunny had been put up on the armoire so he wouldn’t eat it all and it was laying in a ray of sunlight and melted beyond recognition. I carefully lifted it in it’s package (thank God it was still in it’s package) and put it in the fridge to harden (the equivalent of chocolate bunny CPR) but my efforts were in vain. The bunny could not be saved. Fortunately, Muffin didn’t seem to care much…it’s still chocolate after all! Ah, yes that is indeed my DNA in that child. Mmmmmm, chocolate.
So, we finally get one of two kids down for a nap and then…the earthquake hit. It was the biggest one I’ve felt since moving to California almost 10 years ago. It went on forever too! It just kept going and going. A 7.2 with the epicenter only about 100 miles away. It scared the hell out of poor Muffin, who was wondering why his whole room was shaking and his heavy blinds were swaying and his windows were rattling. Madam Poopsalot was doing the nap-resistance scream at the time, so she didn’t seem to notice the 7.2 earthquake. In fact, come to think of it…maybe she triggered it. Oh great. Now, we’re all screwed if she doesn’t start learning how to sleep better.
