Potty Wars Revisited

In February, we made the ultimate decision to start potty training Sophie. Two years after finally getting Mason potty trained, here we are again. Hoping for the same, if not better results.

It was a Friday. I wasn't 100% ready, but we were just about out of diapers and I wanted to start the day with pull-ups rather than switch partway through the day. I kept a journal of dates, times and details of our day to day activities in addition to when and where, and how often she used the potty. Whether she peed in her pull-up or in the potty, I wrote it down. Here is a peek into the first week of our attempt to start this whole process over again.

Day one:

Not very successful today. Ate breakfast, dropped Mason off at school, arrived at Target and had her sit on the potty. She was scared at first but then I sang some songs and we played I-spy. But nothing. We did some shopping, about 30 min. later she pooped in her pull-up. Came home, packed lunch, picked up Mason from school and headed out to a play date. I couldn't get Sophie to stop a moment to sit on the potty again. By the time we sat down for lunch, she already peed. The rest of the day went like this with absolutely no success, and what appeared to be a complete lack in interest.

Day two:

Fred gets up with the kids. When I get up I have Sophie sit on the potty. Again, she is less than enthusiastic. We sit there for about 20min. reading books and playing with toys, but nothing. A few minutes later she asks to sit on the potty but I discover she already peed in her pull-up. About two hours later we have success in the little Baby Bjorn potty! Only moments later to find she peed in her pull-up. She continues this until after her nap, when she manages to pee in the little potty again. Then again in the little potty an hour later. Off and on success the rest of the day.

Day three:

Managed to stay dry till lunch. Stayed dry through her entire nap. When she awoke, sat her on potty and she peed. Yes!

Day four:

It's been a huge battle just to get her to sit on the potty, much less actually urinate in it. I find myself getting frustrated and yelling at her which I know is not helping and in reality gets me the exact opposite results.

Day five:

Started a new strategy. Set timer for 30 min. intervals, having her sit on the potty for 5-10min. each time. But we seem to just miss the mark by a few seconds, every time. It becomes apparent that she prefers the little potty. Maybe it's that she can do it all herself, or that she can conveniently watch her shows while sitting there. Whatever the reason, she is more comfortable using the little potty. While I fear this is adding one more step to the potty training process, I'll do whatever it takes to get her to be successful.

Day six:

She starts to recognize when she poops by telling me just after she does it. A good sign, and a hopeful step forward.

Day seven:

No success.

Day eight:

Today I notice something interesting. After feeling so frustrated about her being disinterested in sitting on the potty, I struggle to stay positive. The September deadline is looming ahead of me and I am having similar feelings of fear in not having my child potty trained in time for preschool. All she wants to do is play and refuses to listen to my pleas for her to just sit on the potty. I will put on My Little Pony for you to watch, just please sit on the potty. She is too focused on play and now won't even stop to put her pull-up back on. At my wits end, I finally just gave up and let her sit, naked, on the floor playing. After a while she jumps up saying, "I pee pee in the potty," and runs to sit on her little potty. Sure enough, she does. Aha. Maybe she does understand that feeling after all.

I eventually stopped recording, in detail, our potty training attempts. I thought, if I could record when she peed and pooped, I could figure out a schedule and then try to time her sitting on the potty at those times in order to get success. That plan didn't work out so well. I was doing everything like I had before. I have been encouraging, having her watch Elmo's Potty Time over and over, reading books about going potty, instituting the earning of stones (1 for peeing, 2 for pooping in the potty. Once she reaches 10 she gets to pick from the earning bin.), even showing over the top excitement when she is successful, and downplaying when not. After day eight, I was telling myself that she was getting it, but then days went by where it was a fight just to talk about sitting on the potty. Sophie and I were both hitting our limits. Potty training was becoming one huge power struggle and I didn't want to turn this whole experience into something negative. Forcing her to sit on the potty was not going to get the results I so desperately desired. So she came out victorious most of the time and I began questioning if we made the right call. Maybe she just wasn't ready?

I could swear it wasn't this hard with Mason. Whoever said potty training girls was easier, never met my daughter.

Why I love motherhood

It's moments like this that reaffirm my love for motherhood.

Mason: say cheese mama.

Me: cheese! *blow him a kiss*

Mason: *squeels* I love you.

Me: I love you too, buddy.

Mason: I will throw a big heart into you.

...and my heart just melted, so it's a good thing he's going to throw me another one.

Moments

Every once in a while you have those moments when you feel like the recipient of the worst parent of the year award. My most recent experience with this feeling went a little something like this.

My daughter has tested and tested me over the last few weeks. You see she has horrible eczema. I don’t mean the kind where they get red, scaly, itchy patches here and there in the folds of skin where there is still lingering baby fat. Mason had that, on his ankles behind his knees and inside his elbows, but was pretty much grown out of it by the age of two. No, Sophie has the kind where we are seriously contemplating taking her to a dermatologist. These raised, red, scaly patches are not only on her ankles, but all over her stomach, her back, her arms, legs, EVERYWHERE, and ever so itchy. I can just feel how itchy it is when she is sitting there scratching and scratching at her belly, and I am doing everything I can to help her. I can feel how itchy it is when every night while putting lotion on her delicate skin, I see nothing but bright red all over her little body. I can feel how itchy it is when she’s crying, and there is blood soaked into her pants or pajamas and under her fingernails from having scratched too much. It’s all too painful to see her in this state. The steroid cream works for a certain amount of time, but we don’t want to over use that. Other creams and ointments keep the irritation to a minimum until the next major flair up, but nothing works on a permanent or very long-term basis. My heart breaks for her, causing me to just break down and cry with her.

So I guess it should have been no surprise when Sophie decided to take matters into her own hands, literally, by getting into the medicine and treating herself. Normally we have the diaper changing creams, ointments, and eczema medicines sitting in the side container of our diaper holder on the changing table. In the past two and a half years we have never had an issue with just leaving them there. That was until our little girl got smart. I can’t tell you the exact number of times, but at least 4 or 5, I would find her sitting in her room rubbing her ankles and legs. As I would get closer, I’d see the tubes of A&D ointment and hydrocortisone squeezed to death on her bed, and everything from her hands, to her sheets and her clothes, glistening with the now greasy, sticky ointment. There was one time it was so bad; she had it all in her hair and on her face and oh god, the brand new sweater I just bought that morning. Or, there was the time in the morning when she couldn’t open the door to her bedroom, so she started to yell for me at the god awful hour of before I’m ready to get out of bed, only to find out the reason was that her hands were so slimy from the ointment she rubbed all over everywhere--again. I don’t know about you, but I found out quickly that greasy ointments DO NOT COME OUT OF CLOTHES. So as the days progressed, and she was still, somehow getting into this stuff even after many trips to time out, and both Fred and I drilling it into her, YOU DO NOT PLAY WITH MEDICINE, I was seriously losing my cool with the amount of laundry that now lay in front of me. That, and the fact that she just didn’t seem to get it, or did she? Each time we went through the time out routine (thank you Supernanny) I would ask, “Why did Mommy put you in time out?” She’d respond, “cause medicine.” Then I’d ask, “Do we touch or play with medicine?” and she would immediately say, “NO.” Only later in the day she'd be doing it again. Ugh, this is so frustrating!

Now I have all the medicines; diaper cream, A&D ointment, eczema steroid, Vaseline, hydrocortisone, and whatever other medicine we usually keep handy, stored in the tallest cabinet of our master bathroom, because she has managed to get into them by pushing a chair, stool, or toy over to the area in order to climb upon and reach them everywhere else we have tried to hide these medicines from her. Not as convenient, but at least not where she can reach them. Hopefully.

It has been a few days and no more incidents of finding medicine smeared all over my daughter, or her belongings. I have managed to almost catch up on the laundry, and getting around to some much needed household chores. It is Tuesday, so I need to make sure the floor is mopped before my Parent Group meeting tonight. While I am busy downstairs, Sophie is upstairs slamming doors. I look at my watch. It is just about time to pick Mason up from school. This is when I notice that the slamming of doors as actually stopped, but not only that, it is incredibly quiet upstairs. Too quiet. I dash up the stairs, calling her name as I open doors, trying to figure out where she is and what she is getting into. I find the light on in the bathroom. She is not in there, but the medicine cabinet is open and the box of medicine gone. S*#t! I run now, screaming, desperate to find her. Finally she answers, a small voice, muffled from behind my bedroom door. I open it to find her over by my nightstand, not with the various ointments as expected, but with a bottle of Excedrin Migraine in her hand--open.

I have no idea for the life of me how she got that bottle open, I just know I freaked and started yelling, “Did you eat these?” She immediately said, “no.” However, I don’t know if that was because she didn’t, or that she just didn’t want to get in trouble because she did. She kept calling them candy and then said, “candy yucky,” and grabbed my hand, bringing me over to the trash can where she pointed out a throat lozenge she threw in there. I kept trying to get a real answer out of her about the Excedrin, but trying to have a serious conversation with a 2 year old is a bit like trying to understand a foreign language. I mean, toddler speak might as well be one. Either way, I couldn’t freak out for too long because I was going to be late for car pool. After picking Mason up from school, he reminded me I promised to buy him new shoes that day. So, off to Target we went.

The whole drive over I couldn’t get the Excedrin out of my head, and while Sophie seemed to be acting just fine, I knew I needed that peace of mind. After sitting the kids down in the café for their lunch, I called our pediatricians office thinking they might have information to help me if she had eaten the pills. They told me to call poison control. Great, that was just what I needed. Poison control already has me on their radar from Mason. When he was the same age, I came out of the shower to find he had eaten a few Tums from the bottle sitting on my nightstand. Being the nervous first time Mom, naturally I called poison control. Only a few months later I wrote this blog post about his incident with the bug spray. Shortly after that phone call I received a pamphlet of information in the mail from the poison control center, including a magnet with their phone number on it. I think they were subtly trying to send me a message, which as it turns out I didn’t exactly get, because after the phone call with them this week about my 2. 5 year old daughter maybe eating some Excedrin; I’m pretty sure I will be receiving another packet of information in the mail.

But, I'm not ready yet

Mason is having his first drop-off play date tomorrow and I am having a minor, ok, Major panic attack over it.

Mason has had a bunch of play dates over the years, and even a few with new families we have met through preschool. They have always been with me present, mostly because me and the other Mom want to chat and get to know one another. But seriously, I have never had a Mom ask me to drop off my child at their house. Until now. And well actually, she never really asked, but more assumed.

For about a week we had been playing phone tag in trying to set up a play date with our sons. Finally we met up at a school function. This was where she said, "so do you want me to just take him to my house after school or would you prefer to drop him off?" I'm pretty sure my mouth dropped to the floor and my eyes bugged out. I felt blindsided as I struggled to regain my composure. We had already agreed to the play date and even though I am not at all ready to let my son run off without me, how could I back out now? I feel really uncomfortable sending my son to the home of someone I barely know. He is only five years old. I know most of the parents in Mason's class have multiple kids and the ones in his class are usually their second or third so they have been there and done that. But he is my first, my baby, and this is a HUGE step for me. I'm sure they are a wonderful family and from the brief moments I have talked with her, I've determined she is very nice. The fact remains, we've only had a few brief encounters, so I don't know her all that well yet. I don't know any of the parents in his class very well for that matter. At least not well enough to let my son go to their house alone.

Mason, of course, is thrilled about going to this house because he says they have Legos and he is really into building with Legos right now. I explained to him that I will not be there and it would be a long time without Mom (2 hours, and that was me cutting it down). Still he doesn't seem to be apprehensive about it at all. I seem to be the only one with reservations and suffering from fear, panic and worry. What if he gets hurt and I am not there? What if they allow him to do things that I find inappropriate? What do I do if their discipline methods are completely different than ours? Will she let them play outside unattended? What if he gets uncomfortable or upset or bored and wants to go home, will she call me and let me know? I told him that he should tell the Mom if he wants to leave and have her call me and I'll come pick him up but still, I have all these horrors running through my head. I've never been to their house, I've never seen my son and her son interact or play with one another, so I have no idea how well they get along. This is all so new and uncharted territory for me and for him. I have no idea what to expect, nor do I know what is the protocol in these situations.

I mentioned this on Mason's birthday, with all the parents wanting to drop off their 4 and 5 year old children at my house for his party, and this wasn't the first time I ran into this. At what age is it appropriate to expect other parents to watch our kids for two hours while we run off? Even more, is 5 too young for a drop off play date? Especially if you do not know them that well? I want my son to feel independent and confidence in not having me around but at the same time, he is only in preschool. I have such anxiety and feel so uncomfortable about the whole situation, yet I feel I can't insist I be there or back out for fear of being seen as rude or over protective. I'm almost trying to find any excuse, like bad behavior, to call up and cancel. Ahh! Please tell me I am not the only one who feels this way?

So how do I deal with this anxiety? I'm not sure. I could very well be that Mom who sits in her car for two hours, parked across the street.

That Mom

Today my heart about leaped out of my chest as I came so close to having an absolute break down. Right there in the women's section of Target. I hate to admit, but this is not the first time I have experienced this kind of sheer panic. Sophie has run off in the store many times before; at Kohls, Target, Walmart, etc. You know, only the really big stores where its easy for the kids to hide under clothes racks and in store displays, and equally easy enough for sometime to just walk away with your precious child and no one notice.

This is the scenario playing out in my mind as I am running up and down the aisles calling her name, "Sophie!" Each look around a corner or behind a rack I hope to see her pop out, that mischievous smile on her face and say, here I am! But there is nothing. This continues for some time, longer than I am comfortable with, and I suddenly realize, I am THAT MOM. We all know her. The one who didn't pay close enough attention and lost her child. She is the one in shear panic, running all crazy like and screaming at the top of her lungs, turning the store upside down, sobbing and calling out her child's name. The Mom who we all stare at and judge and secretly pray we never become. For some, our heart goes out to her and others swear that will never be us, because we are way better parents.

I really try hard not to fully embody that mom. I calmly walk up to the associate in the fitting room, "have you seen my daughter run by here?" I try not to sound too concerned. "She is wearing a cupcake shirt," I tell her as we walk the aisles together. She must have sensed my panic rising, or maybe saw the fear and tears I was fighting hard to suppress. "Would you like me to call it in," she asks. "Yes, please." I hate to admit that my daughter isn't just going to appear any second like she always does, and give in, accepting my failure.

The call goes out over the radios to all the associates. Amongst my fear, I feel embarrassed too. How could I have let this happen? Why do I let her play in areas where I don't have a direct eyesight with her? How could I have been so engrossed in looking at clothes that I didn't notice she was gone? Ultimately what I was really thinking was, I am a terrible mother.

I'm sure we have all been in this mindset before, for something we perceived as the ultimate betrayal to the trust of our children. It may be just an over reaction or it might be rightfully justified. All I know, is that today, in that moment, I had never felt so undeserving of my children. These precious lives that are at the mercy of my hand each and every day deserve better, better than me as their Mom. I wanted to turn to all those people who praised me for my mothering skills and snap at them, "See, I told you I suck at this."

Just as I was settling into this doom of self hate, a lady walks my daughter, who is donning adult sunglasses being held upside down, to her face, over to wear we stand. My heart skips a beat, my fear fades and I grab her and hold her as tight as I possibly can. "She was just trying on sunglasses," the lady reveals to me. I cannot thank her enough as she explains she has a son who does the same thing. So many feelings rush over me as I carry my daughter back to our cart and place her safely inside. "You are staying in here," I tell her, as I explain how terrified I was that I could not find her and it was very important that she NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!!

The rest of our shopping excursion goes without a hitch. Thankful and feeling as though I narrowly escaped what could have turned out to be THE ABSOLUTE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE, I buckle her into the car seat, steal a sweet kiss and drive off to pick up my son from school.

Ticked off

On the first day of summer things went totally wrong.

After a morning of dealing with no school and wondering what to do, I left Mason downstairs to watch Backyardigans while Sophie and I went upstairs to take a shower so I could get my head awake.

Sophie and I were giggling up a storm, sitting on the shower floor. I was teaching her the wheels on the bus song. Mason came walking in and announced very happily, "we have our first watermelons." Moments later he came back in and asked if he could take a shower too. I hesitated and then after seeing his disappointment, I caved. He undressed and walked into the shower. I told him to get his hair wet and wash up and that's when I noticed a black spot under his arm. I told him to hold up and come outside. Glasses off I couldn't really see but I knew it was some sort of bug and wanted to get a tissue or something and get it off before Mason freaked out. I tried to flick it a bit with toilet paper and that's when I stopped to get a closer look. Squinting my eyes hard I stared at it and that's when I thought, oh crap. I think this is a tick.

Shower still running, Sophie quietly playing in it, I left Mason standing in the bathroom holding his arm up. Soaking wet and naked I ran to the top of the stairs and yelled for Fred. No answer. That's when I screamed as loud as I could so he could hear where ever he was and he came running in from outside. I hurriedly told him that I think Mason has a tick on him and I am not sure what to do, I don't have my glasses. He confirmed it was a tick and said he just saw our neighbor and ran out to talk with her. Our neighbor's daughter has Lyme disease. Has since she was about Mason's age. It's been a horrible disease and we've spent the last three years listening to the stories from our neighbor. I immediately thought about this and tried to stay calm, but all I could think was my poor little boy standing naked in the bathroom with this tick stuck to his armpit. How he had his whole life ahead of him and how this moment could possibly take all that away.

It felt like forever. Waiting there for Fred to come back. I didn't know what to do. Was there something I should be doing right now? My mind was going a mile a minute and I couldn't turn it off. My hands were shaking so bad and Mason started crying. I tried to calm him but I wasn't sure myself and Fred was taking forever. Mason kept crying and saying he wanted daddy and I felt helpless and scared and I started crying too. I couldn't just leave both the kids in the house and search for Fred outside, I knew he was getting information on how to properly take the tick off and what to do afterward, but my god the two of us were just standing there with no idea what was going on or what to do. And the seconds went by so slowly. IT WAS TERRIFYING.

Finally Fred came back but he wouldn't tell me what he was doing or what needed to be done and I was freaking out. I just wanted to know. It was killing me not having this knowledge and my son's health in danger. He tried to kick me out but Mason really started to freak when Fred got the tweezers so I ran back in and held Mason as tight as I could while Fred removed the tick (and some of Mason's skin with it) and placed it in a Ziplock bag. Mason was in tears, Sophie was trying to figure out what was going on, still in the shower, and I was sobbing. My whole body shaking in horrid sobs. I didn't know if my little boy was going to be OK or not.

Moments later our neighbor came knocking on the door to check the situation. We all quickly got some clothes on Mason and myself and went downstairs. She talked to us for like 3o minutes, giving us the website of a lab we can send the tick off to in order to test for Lyme disease. Arming us with what to look out for in the next days, weeks, etc. The bulls-eye rash, any fatigue, or irritability, etc. It was a bit comforting to have her there talking with us. Looking back she can see the warning signs she missed with her daughter. I hope her experience helped us.

So many things I am trying to stay hopeful about. Hoping the test the lab does on the tick comes back negative. Hoping no rash develops. The ticks head was not imbedded in Mason's skin, nor was it engorged so I am hoping that is a good sign. Trying to stay hopeful that this tick was not on Mason longer than the few moments yesterday morning before spotting it. We didn't notice anything before then, but then again we weren't looking either and it had been quite a while since the kids had bathed; I hate admitting that.

In the meantime we are observing the bite everyday, checking the kids for ticks on a regular basis after playing in the yard. I called our pest service about getting the yard sprayed for ticks. And emailed our pediatrician about the whole situation and thought I'd mention it to him at Sophie's check up on Monday.

I don't normally pray, but last night I found myself knelt beside my bed, head bowed, hands crossed and through my tears I spoke; "Dear Heavenly Father..." I prayed, and I've been doing that a lot since yesterday. I know, we as parents, can't protect our children from everything. There will always be dangers out there. As a mother, I find it is the hardest thing to accept that harm will come to my childen in some form or another. Be it a broken heart, broken bone, or an illness. I know that I can't keep them in a bubble, locked in the house, but I feel like I want to do that sometimes. To hold them, protect them and promise nothing will ever happen to them. It is these moments that I recall that scene in Finding Nemo when Marlin, Nemo's father, says that he promised he would never let anything happen to his son and Dory replies, "well that's a silly thing to promise. You can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him." Dory was right. I see that. But, how do I ease the fear, the pain, the constant worry, the guilt? How do I let go? How do I go on with life knowing the dangers yet still find comfort and peace? I need to know that it is all going to be OK. I need to have reassurance and knowledge. I know all to well how fragile and short life really is. I have seen and experienced my share of loss.

So as I sit here, my family in bed asleep, I think about how I wish I could go back to Thursday. Before any of this happened and prevent it, but know I can't. I think of how much I have prayed for the health of my son. I think, I need to say one more prayer. A prayer for strength. To find my strength to get through this no matter the outcome, and to learn from it all.

I may sound like one neurotic mother right now, I know my husband thinks I am, but I just needed to get this out. I needed to talk and have someone listen. So if you read all of this, I say, Thanks.

With that, I am off to bed with the hope I can get some sleep tonight.

it's in his genes

Deep down we always knew this day would come.

Still, it's scary, because you are never quite prepared for that moment. When you are walking in the parking lot, holding your son's hand, suppressing the panic and fear as you make your way to the doctors office, and his little voice, gasping for air, pleads for you to slow down even though you are already walking slow.

I've only known asthma as an outsider, observing those in my life who suffer from the disease. So when I reached down and picked up my son, carrying him into the building as fast as I could, I bit my lip hard, in order to fight back the tears. Step after step, I listened to the horrible wheezing and short, shallow breaths and thanked the lord that Fred was home to recognize the symptoms and know to call the doctor. Thankful that our pediatrician made time to see Mason.

This was yet another one of those most painful moments I've had to face over the last four years on this adventure called motherhood. Sitting in Walgreens, waiting for the albuterol, prednisolone and to become the owner of our very own nebulizer, I wondered how different his life would be from this day forward. Would I be paranoid every time he goes to school or my moms or anywhere I am not? Would I sit up all night listening to him breathe when he gets a simple cold? Will I worry about putting him in sports? Then I am reminded that Fred developed asthma around the age of 5 and he played soccer well into his adulthood. Now, I can't remember the last time he had an attack or I really worried about his breathing, thanks to Advair. This and the many, many friends who have children who are on nebulizers and they are living extremely active lives, playing t-ball and other sports.

Mason, having suffered through sitting still for the nebulizer treatments was non-stop at Taco Night. Running, jumping in the bounce house for hours, only sitting down long enough to eat some mac n cheese and cake before he was off again. You would have had no idea he was rushed to the doctors 24 hours before and almost passed out during the treatment because of the adult dose he needed.

I must remind myself that he is going to be fine. At this point, it is believed to be allergy related and since being on the prednisolone and claritin he hasn't needed to use the nebulizer in days. Which should make Sophie happy. She is terrified of the whole thing. The noise, the mask on Mason's face, she's concerned about her brother, which I find so endearing. We'll see how he does once off the steroid, come Wednesday. If he has another one, then we put him on preventative medicine. Seeing as Fred has asthma, as do his brothers, and that Mason had eczema as a baby and suffers from allergies it almost seems inevitable.

He will be able to live a normal life. I must keep repeating that to myself. Still I can't help but see him through different eyes. Life just feels totally different somehow. But as always in true Mason style, you'd never suspect a thing.

Growing Pains

Sophie decided she wanted to be a Zebra today.

I walked Mason in for drop off and as soon as we saw the front doors to the school Sophie squirmed out of my arms. "Down. Walk," she demanded. And leading the two of us, she paraded down the halls of Mason's preschool. All the way into his class room and right up to the teacher. I made small chit chat as I always do with Mason's teachers as he hangs up his backpack, signs in and acclimates himself. One teacher is expecting so we chatted about ultrasounds, due dates and the difference between boys and girls while Sophie explored the dramatic play area. Having showed up later than usual, by the end of our conversation it was time for school to start.

Ms. Regehr turned on the music while the zebras (Mason's class) cleaned up their free centers and one by one sat down for the morning meeting. This was just fine with miss Sophia. She walked right over and joined them for circle time, choosing sit upon after sit upon until settling on one sandwiched between her big brother, Mason, and his classmate, Caprice. She looked over at each child, a satisfied look on her face, then turned to Ms. Regehr and pointed, nodding her head as if to say OK, I'm ready. You may start class now. This amused not only the teachers but the students as well. "Oh jeez." I heard a few say. "I think we have a new student," Mrs. Aviles said to Ms. Regehr. To which she replied, "Sophie, are you joining our class today?" And my little girl, 21 months old, nodded her head. "Yeah," she said, "sit." Observing this whole scene and smiling, the only thing I could think was, where is my camera? Why did I leave it in the car this morning? Of all mornings!

Honestly, I was not prepared for this. For the sudden desire to be a big girl. With her independence growing each day; her persistence to sleep in Mason's toddler bed, her I do it attitude when it comes to brushing teeth and walking down stairs, and climbing onto Mason's chair for meal/snack time. I was caught off guard. Maybe it was because he didn't know there was anything better because there was no one to look up to, but Mason was content in his booster chair, crib and holding mommy's hand. She isn't even two yet and my little girl already wants to cut the strings. She sees her big brother doing it and that's it, it's all over, she HAS to do it too.

Though I really have enjoyed seeing her come into her own these last few months. Working so hard to say words we understand; milk, cookie, itchy, car, Thomas (as in choo-choo). And attempt phrases; there you go, I did it, thank you. But even if I'm not quite ready for her to fly solo I can check one worry off my list. When it comes to preschool, not only is it clear she is ready, but I think she'll do just fine.

Snow days

It's snowing....again.

The boys have headed outside to play and while I stay indoors with Sophie, because she loved the snow as long as she didn't fall down, which at 20 months you can imagine how often that happened; watching TinkerBell for oh, probably the 20th time since Christmas I am reminded of a moment that happened the other day.

With the snow and teacher work days, Mason has only had school one day this entire week. Oy! You can imagine how that has gone over in this household. Bored kids + ridiculously cold outside = two whining, crying kids, one stressed mama and our Costco size diaper box of movies getting a good use. I've tried to trade which one picks the next movie, you know for fairness, and on this particular day Mason had chosen Thomas that morning making it Sophie's turn. She, of course, chose TinkerBell and Mason went into whine mode. "But Mom, we always watch TinkerBell. We've seen it like a million times."

Suddenly I was brought back to a time when Mason was about the same age as Sophie is now and there was a little movie by the name of Cars that consumed our every existence. I can't tell you how many times I heard that movie playing in the car, over and over and over...I just know I have the entire dialogue memorized. Back to 2008, the year of Cars and the reason we gave Mason's room at our new house a Cars theme. The reason we made an extra stop in the car isle of Target every trip. The reason his second birthday party had a Cars cake and little toy cars for favors and why we have just about every character from the movie (or at least I tried really hard to find them) that now collect dust in a box because the cars with eyes are no longer cool and we have moved on to the real life ones like corvettes, mustangs, mini coopers, toyota prius, and now monster trucks. Though now that Cars 2 is about to debut in the theaters this summer, that might all change.

Remembering all this, I turned to Mason who was pleading to watch something else and just said, "suck it up." Like Cars, I actually enjoy the TinkerBell movies, of which we have the first two. (The third is in storage awaiting a, no doubt, TinkerBell themed second birthday party) Though I wonder if I too would grow tired of the movie if not for it being a series and having the luxury of more than one to chose from.

In the meantime I'm gonna just sit here and enjoy my cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows and the troublesome little tinker fairy. Isn't motherhood just so...flitterific?

A lesson learned. Hopefully.

The last day of school before winter break. Snow still on the ground from the few inches of snowfall the day before. Two hour delay had carpool starting an hour later than normal and our day a little out of sorts. Luckily we got a phone call for a play date from Mason's best friend. After a quick lunch and a phone call to the doctors (who ironically is the father of our play date friend) we had Sophia dosed up with Benadryl for her stomach rash and headed out the door.

Met with uber excitement the kids threw off their winter gear and ran off to play. As usual they eventually wanted a snack so we made chocolate ice cream from a recipe in High Five magazine. With just some soy milk, ice, sugar, salt and 10 minutes of shaking we had our ice cream. I thought it was pretty cool, but like all new things we try there is a margin of error. And unfortunately the plastic bags broke and our ice cream ended up quite salty. Now we know for next time. Double bag.

A few hours later, kids still playing and Sophia asleep on my shoulder; it was after all about 4:30pm, the boys were upstairs playing and we sat on the couch for some girl talk and downtime. Then it happened.

My son started to scream. Blood curdling screams that let us know something was terribly wrong. He comes running down the stairs and very clearly upset and in pain. The reason? His best friend had bit him.

WHAT?!

Yeah, that was our reaction too. Totally in disbelief. But sure enough I lifted up Mason's shirt and there there perfectly aligned teeth marks on his upper back. Seriously, neither of us knew quite how to handle the situation. Mostly we were both stunned and in shock. Totally mortified, my friend went into action with discipline as any Mom would do. She called her husband, a.k.a. my son's doctor, and it was decided we would stick around till he got home to have him take a look. I swear Mason cried for like 45 minutes. My heart was breaking for my poor little boy and I kinda panicked inside, unsure of how to make it better. All I could do was hold him and assure him that his best friend still liked him and that Daddy would not be mad that he got bit. Though I have to say my heart broke the worst when Mason cried, "I don't want to come over here anymore." That's when his best friend erupted into tears and ran into the other room. My friend and I, the Mom's we are, just looked at each other with sad eyes. We knew better but still did not want to see this end their long time friendship of 3 years.

Honestly for me, I understand that these things happen. Boys will be boys. They play rough, they disagree. They are after all only four years old. The biggest issues at this age are sharing and learning to control their emotions. It probably didn't help that neither one had a nap and were clearly at that tired but totally wound up stage. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if our roles were reversed. I thank God that they weren't. I was still in shock. I had never seen my friend's son act out like that. Though inside I was saying to myself, "what a relief her son acts this way too." I know we always think our kids are the only ones that turn into terrors the moment they are alone with us in the house and no one believes they can act so different than the sweet, easy chid they see at school, or gym class. It was a bit of comfort to see evidence that my friends, who I feel are so perfect, go through the same thing. Maybe the one good thing that comes out of all of this will be my son never becoming a biter.

As I am writing this, I am still befuddled about how it all went down. I'm not sure we will ever know. I only know this; Mason calmed down, we had another snack, played a few games of sword fight on Wii. Smiles came back and by the time it was time to head home, we had a prescription of antibiotics, instructions on how to clean the wound, and as I suspected, my son declaring, "I want to come back tomorrow."

I never knew...

When we first signed Mason up for preschool I had a whole different idea of how I figured things would be as opposed to how they have turned out. Here are just a few of the things I never knew before becoming a mother of a preschooler:

I never knew that sending my son to preschool would make me want to go back. What fun, creative things they do each day and how exciting the teacher makes each lesson.

I never knew that three hours is really not enough time to get anything worth while done.

I never knew that I'd be twice as busy.

I never knew that signing on for room parent duties would put me in the role of leader, or that I'd feel so overwhelmed with the work. Taking on more than I could handle once you added on volunteering with the Parent Connection Committee. Note to self: you don't have to be supermom. Your kids will know you love and support them. Next year, room parent is enough.

I never knew I'd be so nervous at picture time and then anxiously awaiting their return, only to be brought to tears at the grown up little man staring back at me.

I never knew I'd look forward to planning, preparing and bringing in snacks for his class.

I never knew that watching little 4 year olds parade in their halloween costumes would be the highlight of my day.

I never knew I'd be so scared of parent-teacher conferences.

I never knew I'd see my son write his name after only two months.

I never knew the excitement of Fridays and a red folder would bring. To see what new art project he brought home and proudly hang it in our family room.

I never knew the extra amount of laundry I'd have on my plate, due to finger paints, play doh and god knows what else coming home all over his shirts.

I never knew that during sharing time, when asked what they are thankful for; my son would say he is thankful for parks, cars and his teacher.

I never knew how much Fred would love this school.

I never knew the joy of going to pick up my son and seeing his smile as he runs into my arms. Or the happiness of my daughter having her big brother back home as she reaches across the car to hold his hand on the way home.

I never knew I'd be so surprised by the explosion of my sons imagination and creative play. Or my new found inspiration in being crafty at home with my kids.

Mostly, I never knew that preschool would be an opportunity for both Mason and I to learn, build confidence and independence and really, truly grow.

So, yeah, that's where I've been this past month. Up to my eyeballs in preschool. Writing and sending emails. Going to meetings, taking notes, checking the yahoo group. Remembering fundraisers, soccer class on wednesdays and classroom events. Dropping off and picking up. Having family visit and preparing for holidays. Having our deck rebuilt and screened in. Coordinating teacher gifts, pot luck feasts, running endless errands and attending birthday party after birthday party.

Phew! I'm tired just reading that. How about you?

Mason hasn't had a proper "grandma sunday" in over two months and we haven't had a weekend to just sit and breathe. Not to mention the state of domesticity. The house is a mess, the laundry impossible to keep up and the fridge looking a bit empty. Getting some "me time" has gotten more difficult and things like my blog, facebook and twitter have gotten neglected. Everyday it is one more thing on the list and one more minute of me trying to hold it all together and not be a raving lunatic. But then, I take a step back and think; it's all just a part of the next step in motherhood.

Like Mother, Like Son

I just caught up on episodes of Bones last night and it was the one with Dr. Bunsen Jude the Science Dude. That name totally makes me laugh. Anyway, his signature phrase was "That's A-MA-ZING!" I totally think I'm going to use this from now on. And say it in just that way too (Uh-Maaaaaay-Zing).

Uh-hem. Anyway. Back to the topic.

As if there wasn't enough evidence that I ended up with a child "just like me," my son decides that orange is his favorite color. This, of course, requires that EVERYTHING be orange. From the floss stick he uses use at night, to the clothes he wears each day.

Recently at school they have been using bean bags and playing games with them. He asked me if we could buy some bean bags and I, being the crafty mom I am, convinced him that I could make him bean bags just as cool as any store bought ones. About 30 minutes into picking out the fabric for these bags I realize I should have kept my mouth shut. Standing there in the store, listening to my son whine, "no! It has to be JUST orange!" about to rip my hair out and lose my mind if he doesn't just PICK ONE ALREADY. I suddenly had a revelation.

I am about 6 or 7 years old. It's 1980 something and we are on our annual family get together at Kings Dominion. My grandmother has just agreed to buy my sister and I any shirt we want. While my sister picked hers out in a few minutes, I want a purple shirt. Why? Purple is my favorite color and everything I get has to be purple. So I drag my poor grandmother to, no lie, EVERY SINGLE STORE in that park until we finally found one. To this day that story is still told at family events, and my grandmother, still a bit bitter about it all.

Now, standing in front of the rows and rows of fabrics, desperate to find an all orange one before my son has a total meltdown and I die of old age; I think to myself, "this is what my parents went through." And once again I am reminded of the fact that I was cursed, oops, I mean, blessed to have a child just like me.

*Note: we eventually found an all orange fabric, tucked away behind some other ones and it was THE LAST ONE. You can bet I grabbed that thing, held on for dear life, and ran to the checkout as fast as Mason could keep up.

The gravity of a cavity

It went a little something like this.

Me asking anyone and everyone, when is the right time you are supposed to take your child to the dentist? And like most things, getting a variety of answers. Then inquiring upon my dental hygenist friends about the stains that showed up on Mason's two front teeth. Followed by me pleading with my husband to put our kids back on dental insurance because I was certain Mason was getting to that age. However it wasn't until I was filling out the many forms required for my son's preschool, and the question asking for his dentist being left empty, that I seriously decided that I needed to get on the ball.

So yesterday I did a lot of research, phone call inquires and debating in order to find the right dentist for my child. About an hour later I had an appointment scheduled with Little Pearls Dentistry for Children. I chose them mostly because they are in-network for our insurance but also because they seemed to really have the children's comfort and interests in the forefront.

That night, I prepped Mason for what to expect. To help ease any anxiety that I was sure he might have. This is where I really love the internet. Mason in my lap, I pointed out the picture of the dentist, he is going to count your teeth. And if you have any questions or concerns you can ask him, just like your teacher. O.K.? I also pointed out the pediatric dental assistants to which Mason asked, Do you think the girl in green will clean my teeth? I read him the many testimonials from patients. Yes, the children. Things like: ...they give you a puppet to hold and let you watch your favorite t.v. show! Dude I don't get to watch my favorite t.v. show at my dentist. That is sooooo cool! And off to bed he went with a promise to bring whatever car he wanted, to hold instead of the puppet.

I woke up today having high hopes. Later in the afternoon, I left to pick up Mason from school. Getting my running hug, as always, I asked if he was ready for the dentist. Unfortunately we hadn't grabbed a car before we left and he pleaded to stop at home to get one. Being located just up the road from our neighborhood, always a plus when appointments are close to home, I didn't see a problem. Car now in hand and Mason in high spirits, we were off to the dentist.

We were greeted by a waterfall and fish tank as soon we walked in and were surprised with a Thomas train table around the corner. So while I filled out the necessary paperwork, Mason played with the train table while Sophie watched from the stroller. Once done, Mason got to choose a movie from a long list, he chose Aladdin, and holding on to my hand for comfort we headed to the back.

Holding tight to my hand, I placed Mason into the chair and the dental assistant promptly put on the movie. She was so great with Mason. Showing him the toothbrush she was going to use, how it worked and letting him touch it. Helping him put on sunglasses to shield his eyes from the light she needed to use to see in his mouth. I'm Dana by the way. I don't think I told you that. She worked as I stood in the background. The only issue Mason had was with the flavor we chose for him, raspberry. I don't like that, he said. The feeling? Does it tickle? Or the flavor? The flavor. Second time around he chose orange and liked it much better. I want orange every time o.k. mommy? Duly noted buddy.

He sat there so still, listening to her and following her directions when asked to open wider or chomp on the saliva ejector (yeah, I had to look that one up). I was so very proud of him. Do you mind if I take pictures? Camera at the ready. Go ahead. SWEET! Click. Click. Click. Enter Dr. Mike. He sat down, asked if there were any concerns on our end and started counting Mason's teeth. I turned my attention to Sophie, who was modeling excellent behavior herself. One of the nurses had given her a plush dolphin and she was showing it off, all smiles. So he is missing a tooth on the bottom. My attention shot back to the doctor. What? From what I was told this is not uncommon. Turns out instead of the normal four he only has three, missing an incisor. Sometimes the baby tooth just doesn't erupt. Nothing to do at this point but later on an x-ray will be necessary to see if an adult tooth is there or not.

Still trying to absorb the realization of my son missing a tooth (and the fact that I had no idea) I was hit with the news of a cavity. Crap. Really? No I didn't say that out loud but it's what I thought. And felt. The stain in between his two front teeth on the top, yup it's a cavity. And now I feel like such a failure as mother. While I have not taken very good care of my own teeth I really wanted to do better for my children. Still it is what it is, and I have to just accept it and move on. So I was told that we need to use a fluoride toothpaste and place a dab on the front and back on his teeth before bedtime. They said we could choose to separate the teeth to loosen the space between them to help. Not sure if I am comfortable with that. I'm not sure what it all entails, maybe sedation or numbing with a needle. Both of which would not go over well with Mason and cause him to fear the dentist in the future. So I guess we'll try the fluoride and see in six months how that goes. There was no mention of a filling or anything, so I guess it's not that bad but still it is a cavity. It was mentioned to stay away from foods with carbohydrates like goldfish and I seriously looked at the doctor like he was insane. He wants me to keep carbohydrates away from a three year old? Or he said to make sure to brush after he eats those foods. Realistically, I'm not thinking about brushing his teeth that many times a day and quite honestly he isn't in my presence for a whole three hours where he gets snacks. So honestly I don't see that happening too much.

I'm sure I'll be thought of as a horrible mother now because I don't brush my child's teeth more than just at bedtime but seriously I'm doing the best I can with strong personalities. I barely have enough time to get my son out of bed, fight with him to eat breakfast and then get dressed before heading out the door for carpool. And be on time. So to add tooth brushing on top of it is like, OH MY GOD, adding fuel to the fire. My daughter, I try to brush her teeth with the gum brush thing but, HELLO, she BITES MY FINGER and bites it hard. So bad that I have cried, certain she drew blood. You can bet I think twice before sticking any finger back in that death trap. But still I find myself so distraught over their heath, and now especially their teeth.

I went into this dental visit feeling hopeful that Mason would once again impress me with his coping skills, which in true fashion he did, but I left feeling depressed and concerned and a complete failure as a mother over a simple cavity and non-existent tooth.

*sigh*

Motherhood.

just a note: my husband so proudly came up with the title and I just had to give him credit. (Bet you didn't think you'd see me write that did you, babe?)

New Beginnings

With the first week of school now under our belt, I can look back upon the myriad of emotions and thoughts I experienced leading up to this moment that has turned me into a parent of a preschooler. I am officially the mother of a preschooler. Yeah, it still doesn't feel normal for me to make that statement. It seemed like just yesterday he was my baby boy, learning to walk and uttering simple phrases. Today he is strapping on his backpack and excitedly thinking about what he might do during his time at school. But, for sure this is our life.

We had previously met his teacher two weeks earlier during a scheduled home visit. This is something I love about this school. Taking the time and making the extra effort to meet each student individually before the start of the school year. It really helped put some of my anxiety and fears to rest and I think for Mason as well. To have that chance to get acquainted with his teacher in a comfortable, familiar setting. So things aren't totally new the moment he walked in the first day. They discussed cars and our impending trip to the beach. His class are the Zebras, so she brought him a mask to color and then took his picture with it on. Gave him an assignment to decorate a place mat to bring in on his first day and generally left us all with a good feeling and high hopes for the year. We liked her.

Tuesday morning arrived all too early. In reality it was 7am and I'm sure most people would have been up for a few hours already. Woke up the kids, served breakfast, got everyone ready and headed out the door. I thought I'd be a ball of nerves this first day, ending with me in tears as I drove off without him. Having been through orientation the previous day I felt pretty confident things would be O.K.

We toured his classroom, found the picture his teacher took during the home visit, handed in his place mat full of everything he likes including photos of all of us. Even his teacher was impressed with his work. She was also impressed with Mason's brilliant memory when he commented to her, "I didn't see your car. The red Toyota corolla." That was because she parked somewhere else. Oh he makes me proud sometimes, that smart son of mine.

It ended with the parents heading out to the playground pavilion to be welcomed into the 2010-2011 school year and regaled with the schools awesome achievements, while Mason and his classmates spent some time with their teacher. I was pleasantly surprised and quite relieved when his teacher told us he did great.

I can't say that I didn't feel a little twinge or have some tears creep up as I watched my almost four year old, without fear or trepidation, walk hand in hand with the administrator and disappear into the school. Instead, I drove away feeling optimistic and grateful for holding it together in front of Mason. Eyes still dry, I rewarded myself with a Pumpkin Spice Latte and spent the rest of the morning catching up with an old friend and taking a much needed shower.

It was definitely a different dynamic in the house with Mason gone. A slower pace and A LOT quieter. Though I found my mind wandering to questions of how he was adapting to his new environment. Did he miss me? Is he playing well with his classmates? Is he following directions? Is he happy? Is he making friends? When I pick him up will he tell me he had fun and likes school? I didn't have to wait long for my answers.

Three hours isn't much time in the grand scheme and before I knew it I was in the car headed back to car pool. Highly anticipating what I would find. I wasn't excited about the massive line of cars that stretched out into the street (especially compared to the fast drop off that morning). However, finding Mason amongst the crowd of kids was well worth that wait. And seriously, I almost lost it for real. Feeling the tears well up and the cry rise up into my throat, sitting there in the car pool line waiting my turn, watching my son holding and swinging hands with his teacher. It was the pride I felt, for my son, for myself as his mother, knowing how much he has changed in just a short amount of time. Thinking, how grown up he looks with back pack on.

He never ceases to amaze me, this little man of mine. How well he adapts to situations I panic over and how calm and easy he finds solutions to everything. The rest of the week I parked my car and walked up to his school to get him. Per his request, but after the long line I sat in the first day, I was happy to do it. And the big running hug (usually reserved for daddy) I was guaranteed, yeah I really enjoy that.

Tomorrow night is Back to School night and I really can't wait to hear all about the things they do in class, see things Mason has created and hear how well he is performing. Now matter what I hear tomorrow though, it can't beat the sweet little voice tell me when I ask, "Did you have a good time at school today?"

"I have a good time every day, mommy." Yeah I think we made the right choice.

1. Standing in front of the school sign, 2. Orientation Day, 3. Reading his name tag, 4. Walking to class with daddy, 5. hanging up backpack on his very own hook, 6. pointing out his name for attendance, 7. Discovering the rice box, 8. His classroom, 9. The helping hands and weather board -he is the door holder, 10. showing us the potty, 11. Pose with Mommy before leaving, 12. ready for school, 13. Pose with little sister on first day, 14. Car pool, 15. Waiting in carpool for drop off, 16. drop off, 17. My brave big boy headed off to first day of preschool, 18. Pick up, 19. Walk up pick up, 20. Waiting to be picked up, 21. He caught my eye, 22. after the running hug, walking back to the car, 23. getting in the car, 24. end of week one

The Evolution of Motherhood

When you first become a parent, you fret over EVERYTHING and buy only the best for your little peanut. We all know, the best usually means expensive. But, hey this is your baby and you aren't about to feed him just any formula or pureed food much less let him poop in less than stellar generic diapers or *gasp*, wear last seasons attire. You want new. Just because you are now a mom doesn't mean you can't be posh. Right? I mean really, what are the fellows mom's at the park going to say if you aren't tooting the latest, greatest diaper bag?

Then one day the double pink lines show up again and you find yourself the mother of two. Suddenly your whole philosophy changes. What once seemed to mean so much, you now realize was oh so frivolous. You realize that posh is not a necessity. You go from top of the line to practical and affordable. You gleefully accept those hand-me-downs from your friend, but mourn the day your daughter catches up to theirs, rendering your freebie exchange out of business. So you find yourself one day at Walmart picking out some really cute mix and match outifts (and wondering why they can't clothes in your size this comfortable). So what if the pants you bought for $3 a pop fall apart after about four months because she's grown out of them anyway. Oh yeah, and that car seat you need because your son isn't the requred 40lbs. and 4 years for a booster but your daughter, the chunky butt she is, has outgrown her carrier; your friend steps in and offers theirs because really it's just collecting dust anyway. OK, so the buckle mechanism is downright frustrating and REALLY annoying at times to put together. Enough to bring out the expletive spewing psycho inside of you, but hey, it works (and it's FREE). You recycle the sheets and sippy cups from your first child. Girls can like cars and trains too. Heck, my son eats off of pink plates and chooses the Disney Princess vitamins over Toy Story on occasion.

Throughout it all, you one hold out though. Your trusty Pampers diapers you've used for years, that have NEVER failed you. Even after your friends try to convince you generic is just as good. You have flashbacks to the brand you bought at the grocery store on a whim. Thinking it would save you a few bucks, but instead it increased your water bill with all the clean up you had due to your son pissing through, each and every one. No thanks, you tell them. I've been there done that and my pampers work just fine. Not going through that mistake again. They insist that Costco diapers are different and actually work. They aren't the first to insist this to you, but you are still skeptical. Then one day to prove it, one of your friends hands over a Costco brand diaper and says, TRY IT. It sits there, in your diaper bag for a few days. You stare at it wondering. Then a week goes by and finally you pull it out, thinking the blueberries you just fed your daughter that morning should really put this diaper to the test. Despite the fact that no exploding blueberry poo happened it did successfully hold in her pee. So it makes you wonder.

You grab the latest receipt from Target and calculate how much Pampers is worth per diaper. Including the $2 off coupons you get in the mail frequently. Needing to run some errands you decide to stop off at Costco on the way and price out their diapers. Your initial find is that it is only .20 cents difference. Thinking it would be more, you decide to stick to your brand. It's not a significant savings. Then your brilliant husband opens your eyes to the fact that .20 cents added up over a month, and even a year saves you a whopping $120.00! Really? OK. I'm sold.

In all your new, saving money is way more important than labels philosophy, you head back to Costco and pick up a box. While you're there you notice the box of wipes that are 900 count for only $20. What a steal, and yeah remember these puppies are even better than Pampers at getting out wine stains from your carpet. See here for that story.

And there you have it my friends. The simple evolution of motherhood. You live, you learn, and then you get realistic. Quite honestly, at the end of the day my kids don't care whether they are pooping in designer diapers (as a side note, can I just say, how ridiculous are those Huggies jeans diapers? I poo in blue. Seriously?), or that Mom uses a cheaper version of a designer diaper bag.

Update: as I am writing this post, my daughter has been dealing with a rash on her legs (well the back of her thighs near her butt). What I thought was probably just dry skin from going to the pool frequently or possibly eczema, cause she has it other places already, turns out to be a contact reaction (allergy). The doctors diagnosis? Must be the new diapers and wipes we've been using (cause that is the only change I can think of recently). Really? Seriously? Did he just tell me that my daughter is allergic to the way cheaper, generic diapers and I HAVE to go back to overpriced designer labels? *picture me banging my head against the table and weeping*

Update, update: I've said screw that. I'll just use the topical steroid medication we already use on her eczema and stick to my cheapo diapers. Thank you very much. I mean, they aren't scented or anything. So far it has seemed to clear up the rash pretty good. And I am crossing my fingers and hopeful. But seriously, leave it to my kids to be allergic to saving money.

What's the newest hip jargon now? Oh yeah, Epic Fail.

So I just have to say that being the newest member to the mothers of preschoolers club really sucks. This is brand new territory for which I am not prepared. And after my performance so far, I wouldn't be surprised if I got kicked out of the club.

At the beginning of the month we received the welcome packet for the 2010-2011 school year. In said packet was a wealth of information from carpool guidelines to his class schedule, as well as a letter regarding parent involvement committees. I read everything, noting important dates on the calendar such as; orientation, first day of school, back to school and the PCC social. Apparently I didn't pay attention to dates enough.

I received an email from Mason's school on Thursday reminding me that the information sheet and Health forms were due back to the school on August 20th. Augsust 2oth? That is....oh crap. That's tomorrow. So what do I do? Dash to the library where important papers are kept and realize that I do not have his health form filled out or signed by his doctor. At this point I am banging my head against the table, wall, computer, really any object I can find hoping that maybe it will miraculously knock not only some intelligence back into my brain but also help me come up with some solution to this now looming problem.

Do I call our pediatrician at his house tonight and beg him to sign the papers? No, that would be rude and a violation of our friendship with his family. I'll just call the office tomorrow and cross my fingers that can fit us in to their schedule to sign.

On the phone in the morning, the receptionist sounded promising that if I got in ASAP that it would be able to be signed. So hop in the car and dash down the street to our PED's office and drop of the form. However the receptionist I came into contact with there seemed to give me the look of; seriously, you're that mom?, when I mentioned that the form was due today, and then subsequently informed me that she didn't think it'd be ready. I just wanted to look back at her and say sarcastically; yeah, I'm that mom, who in the midst of raising my two children while simultaneously running a household is overworked and tends to overlook things at times. Dude this stuff happens, you can't tell me I'm the first mother in history to rush into this office last minute begging to have a medical form signed for school.

Luckily I have an awesome pediatrician and got a phone call two hours later letting me know it was signed. Back in the car, pick up the papers while expressing my gratitude, race over to Mason's school and hand in the paperwork. ON TIME. And really the admin at the desk didn't even blink when she saw me come in, paperwork in hand. She just looked it over to make sure everything was done and thanked me kindly. Yeah, I knew I wasn't the only parent to have a massive brain fart over necessary forms due throughout the school year. Still I walked away thinking, perfect first impression Rachel. That will really win you a spot on the PCC committee. Cause every parent/teacher group is looking for a member who procrastinates, turning in EVERYTHING last minute.

*Sigh*

Now I'm thinking of a better system and more visible place for all of the preschool "stuff" that will be sure to multiply over the school year. Cause if I don't get my ass in gear, this is going to be one LONG first year of school.

Poster Child.

Yeah it's been quite a year. In terms of my body. I know what I am about to divulge might be a delicate subject to most of my readers. However, with what I have read on other blogs, message boards and in general conversation regarding this subject; it seems to be a growing trend. 

It was last year, oh sometime in October I think, that I walked into my OB/GYN's office and had the copper Mirena IUD inserted. 

Now I was no dummy. I did the research. I read the typical pamphlets, listened to my obstetrician, and perused the internet for others experiences. I read the many terrifying accounts of women who, Oh My God, recounted the experience as MORE PAINFUL THAN LABOR. Yet, I filled out that form and paid my $500 trying to only think about the period free days, months and years I was promised. 

Sitting there in the all too familiar waiting room, I nervously awaited my name to be called. Trying hard not to think about all the horrible things that might happen, and the pain. Oh the pain. 

"Rachel Briggs?"

That's me. Oh wait, I could just pretend I didn't hear that and let them think I wasn't me. Except all the nurses know who I am. It is a rather small practice. So in I went. Remembering to take deep breaths. It felt like an eternity waiting for the doctor to arrive, sitting there in that gown, all exposed and vulnerable. 

I was meeting her for the first time as my regular OB/GYN does not do the insertion of IUDs. But she was easy to talk to, nice, friendly demeanor. And talk I did. I was so nervous, I didn't shut up. Talking about life, my kids, on and on until she said, "ok, that's it. We're done."  Huh, what? I was so confused because I didn't feel a damn thing. There was no way it could be over. Where was the worse than anything I've ever felt, grab the table screaming like a banshee and then throw up, pain? Shocked, I admitted my childish fears about what I'd heard. She was sympathetic, letting me know that yes, some women experience pain but me; I am "the poster child for Mirena."

I walked out of there relieved for having felt no pain, cramping or other symptoms described in the many message boards and blogs I read. Sweet! This Mirena thing is the best decision I ever made. What was I so worried about? Life is gonna be awesome from now on. Then I got my first period after having the IUD inserted, and my love affair with Mirena ended. 

All I can say is at least something ended because my period; not so much. Constant spotting in between the heavy cycles I normally experience. After a few months I was convinced it would never stop and I'd bleed for the rest of my life. I kept joking with friends, no wonder you don't get pregnant on Mirena. You can't have sex in order to become pregnant because you're bleeding ALL THE TIME! That's how it works. Approximately five months I endured this inconvenience, always praying that maybe this time it would end. And one day it did. 

I don't remember the exact date, I just remember noticing that I hadn't had my period or spotting in a really long time. Hallelujah! I've enjoyed this new state of period free life for four glorious months and felt less regretful about my decision. No more worrying about what color pants to wear, no more changing plans because so sorry kids there is no way in hell mommy is getting in that water when she is hemorrhaging between her legs. No more pads and tampons to inconspicuously hide in my diaper bag, or back pocket for those frequent trips to the bathroom. No sir, I am living the high life and not looking back. Quite honestly menstruation is by far my least favorite thing about being a woman. Even though it gave me my two wonderfully, beautiful children. I'd really rather just have it gone all together. 

So imagine my complete and utter disappointment when yesterday, I got my period. 

What the....!? Yeah, just about every expletive word I could think of came flying out of my mouth. I've been racking my brain, trying to come up with reason why this happened; I started exercising. I mean really exercising, intentionally, on the elliptical for 45 minutes a day. I started taking naproxen twice a day, per my primary care physicians orders, for the pain in my shoulder that has lasted more than two weeks. The planets Venus and Jupiter are aligned and my cosmic karma is biting me in the ass, hard. No, seriously though, I can't seem to come up with something that totally makes sense as to why after FOUR MONTHS of nothing, my period would suddenly show up. NO WARNING!!

Frantic and frustrated, I broke down and called my OB/GYN's office praying they'd have the answers. But all they could give me was the advice to wait a month and see what happens because they couldn't do anything for me right now. And my exercise didn't seem to be excessive enough to cause major change in my menstrual cycle. I even went back through the literature and NO WHERE DOES IT SAY, OR EVEN SLIGHTLY MENTION, YOUR PERIOD MIGHT RETURN AFTER YOU HAVE ENJOYED IT'S BLISSFUL ABSENCE. Not a single sentence, or reference in any of the pages or their website. So I turned to the only thing I had left, google. And guess what I found? Other people having the same questions and similar experiences. Though a lot seemed to have worse experiences.  I suppose I should be grateful that I still have all my hair, I'm not experiencing pain or cramping, and don't have mood swings from hell (at least not caused by my IUD). Maybe I've been experiencing a lack in sex drive that others have claimed is a cause of Mirena. Or it could be the two kids I spend ALL DAY raising, but who is really placing blame here anyway.

I don't want to freak anyone out. Honestly I'm not at the point of regretting my decision. I mean, I am probably the worst at remembering to take a pill every night, much less at the same time each night. Add mommy brain to that and I'm hopeless. I might as well just pop out the third kid right now. Plus I have really enjoyed the four months of not worry about bleeding. The best part is I've had no migraines. Is the timing of this unexpected return less than stellar? Yes. Will it be a huge inconvenience if it doesn't go away by the time our beach trip arrives? Yes. But as my husband likes to tell me, there isn't anything I can do about it so why dwell and stress. It is what it is and we'll deal with it the best we can. Besides there is hope. Most people who experienced this said that their period returned only for a short time, didn't last long and then was gone again for months on end. The constant spotting on the first 3-6 months seems to be usual and due to the lining of the uterus thinning out, which results in the blissdom of little to no periods some of us experience. So yeah, it's par for the course. Am I worried something more serious might be causing this sudden onset of bleeding? Sure. Could it be the sudden taking of medication? And might it stop once I stop taking said medicine? Probably. But I'm not a doctor, I can only speculate and why spend the next month freaking out over something I have no control over at the moment? (Cause that's what I do. I am a woman.) I am trying not to and instead focuses on the fact that others have been there done that in this situation and got through it. And somehow for now, that seems enough.

Mostly I just wanted to say, yeah I'm left with questions and not exactly in the most ideal situation that I dreamed of when I first signed up for this IUD, but my experience seems to be fairly normal, if not better than most. I'm not ready to yank mine out. Not yet. I'll give it the month suggested by my OB/GYN. Would I recommend it? Sure. If you are like me and can't remember to take a pill every day. If you don't like using condoms and are not yet ready to make anything permanent and are willing to deal with a few months and possibly days intermittent of inconvenience for the overall joy of not worrying if you washed your black underwear and pants cause today is out for the white you normally wear. Or stopping mid romance to search for that one condom you swear you still have, where is it damn it? If that is you, yeah I'd get it. 

If you have been experience the same situation and are left wondering just like me, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I hope this gives you some peace of mind, some comfort and eases your fears. If you've been there, done that, maybe this will inspire you to tell your experience to help someone with theirs. And if you're still reading my blog after this, thanks.

Earth to Rachel...

It's been one of those weeks.

You know, when your son acts up, refusing to listen to you and has your sanity hanging by a thread. When your daughter is starting to have tantrums at the age of one. ONE! And you are ripping out your hair because she doesn't have a vocabulary yet so you don't know why she is throwing said tantrum. At least not entirely. Usually it has something to do with some toy or food she wants and she either can't get it or it was taken away. And you just want to say to her suck it up, kiddo.

A week when you had to bail out on a fun playdate at the water park because you felt it was a good lesson to teach your child, that if he doesn't behave and listen to mommy, there are consequences and they hurt. And even after the few tears shed on his part, he continues to act like the spoiled brat you swore you'd never raise.

A week that you just want to hide in a deep dark hole, but know errands need to be done. And even though you dread to be seen in public with what you consider to be the spawn of hell, you venture out and pray that you get your list checked off one by one with as little pain as possible.

However, amidst all the whining and pleading and you praying to god to just get you through the day, you happen to do the unthinkable. Totally distracted, you carefully put your sleeping baby in the car, hoping she doesn't wake up. Through clinched teeth tell your son if he wakes his sister their will be blood. Look at the sky and think to yourself, we better get going before it starts to rain. Cause that's really what I need, for it to rain right now. So quietly you get into the car, buckle your seat belt (so we can be safe) and drive off. Leaving your double stroller sitting in the parking lot. Only you don't realize this till you are a few miles, a million stop lights and one store away. The car is parked, you are walking to the back, reaching into the trunk only to see it empty. Where's the stroller? Then it dawns on you, and you have that moment when everything is slow motion. Your eyes roll up before you close them, scrunching up your face and and out it bursts. Oh. Shit.

Yeah that was me. Putting the pedal to the metal, tailgating, screaming at the drivers actually going the speed limit, screaming at my kids, praying over and over please let it be there, please god please. Thankful for not getting pulled over by a cop for speeding and lucky that my Graco Quattro Duo Stroller was sitting on the sidewalk next to the building as I sped, tires squealing, into the parking lot. Hallelujah!

Quickly I jumped out of the car, grabbed the stroller, giving it the once over before making sure it actually made its way into my van. The whole time thanking the lord a million times over because damn it, that sucker was expensive.

Summer Adventures: Great Country Farms

We finally made it out to Great Country Farms. Though the night before Fred arrived home from a week long trip to California and Mason, so desperate to see and spend time with daddy, did not want to go. I expected as much and had to talk up all the cool things, including picking blackberries and peaches, just to get him to put on his clothes. However once in the car, and at the Farm he got real excited.

Once everyone arrived, we headed in the direction of the kids playground and barnyard. First up was the thankfully, perfectly shaded play area. Fully equipped with spider web rope climbs

and wooden tractors to climb and slide down.

The kids were having a great time and we all got to take a break from the heat. I met a new fellow momma and hopeful friend whose daughter is about the same age as Mason. The first thing I heard her ask her mom was for a snack. And continued for a while. It made me chuckle to know that my son is not the only one who wants to snack ALL DAY LONG. Fellow snackies unite!

Next we headed in the direction of the barnyard but found the corn box and detoured that way. What a good choice that was because it was hours of entertainment. Well at least it felt like it. Such a relief to us to be able to sit and relax while watching the enjoyment of the kids getting along and playing nice.

It was also covered so there was shade and a nice breeze and the right amount of adirondack chairs for us to sit in. This is the life. Sophie, though, not so much.

She got tired of sitting in the stroller so I brought her in to sit on my lap. She tried so hard to get into that corn pit, it must have looked like so much fun to her. But one attempt to put them in her mouth and right back up she went. And not all too happy about it either. She flailed, and squirmed, and whined and fussed. Just about throwing one of her tantrums. I kept telling her, "wait another year. Or even a few months. When you're not putting anything and everything into your mouth and you too can play." Though I'm not sure that reassurance helped much. It also could have been crankiness due to it being right in the middle of her nap time and awfully close to lunch.

Once lunchtime arrived, we had to drag the kids out of the corn pit and made our way to one of the many pavilions around the farm to set up. The kids were fascinated with the random chicken running around. Trying to feed him pieces of corn they found stuck in various parts of their shoes and clothes. Except Nathan. He was scared.

I figured since we were out and with friends and doing things, Mason would actually sit and eat his lunch. I was mistaken. I had to repeatedly tell him to sit and eat his peanut butter and jelly which he had asked me to make for lunch. Even threaten to take a stone away. Yes, we have started back up with the stone jar and earning bag of matchbox cars. At least I wasn't the only one having trouble getting my child to listen and cooperate.

While the rest of us finished up our lunch, Mason and James were playing, and at times ran off to where we couldn't see them, or James would fall, or Mason tackle him and he would whine or James and Sophie would just cry or whine for no particular reason; and it was hard for us to keep it together and not want to scream at them to just SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!

Clearly the kids were anxious to get back to the activities of the farm, so we packed up as fast as we could, sanitized our hands and were on our way.

We hit the barnyard first, where the kids got to stick their heads in the cardboard cutouts and be dogs, pigs, sheep and cows. We met a donkey named Sophia, some baby lambs which lead to the retelling of the Mommy getting attacked my goats at the animal park story, and once again ran into the anatomy of a certain animal and scratched our heads wondering WHAT IS IT WITH US AND ANIMAL GENITALIA BEING PRESENT?

Next to the barnyard was a small concrete circle with these roller things on them. I had no idea what they were. Some sort of twist cart or something. Emily knew though and was trying to explain how they work. Instead she said, "I'll show you" and hopped on one. It was the funniest damn thing to see her scooting around on that contraption, all the kids following her, wanting a turn. Finally they got one.

I think Mason's was broken because he didn't go very far compared to the others.

As you can see in the first picture of Emily and the kids, there are stairs in the background. Those stairs lead to a tube slide. One of many on the grounds of the farm. However that particular one seemed awfully big for the kids. Looking around we found another, slightly smaller slide and subsequently ushered the kids in that direction.

Mason followed the group up the stairs, insisting I follow. I was skeptical about him actually going down the slide. Two years ago he LOVED, L-O-V-E-D, slides and it seemed the bigger the better. Once he was two, and the closer he got to three he developed a fear of slides and swings and that fear grew and grew. Once at top, we watched one by one as the others went down and just as I suspected, he freaked. I finally convinced him to ride down in my lap and to ensure he would be scarred anymore than he already was, I purposely slowed us down. It must have worked because he raced back up the stairs yelling back at me that he wanted to go down alone. But once again, at the top his fear set in and I had to sit at the bottom coaxing him to come down, ensuring him that he would not get hurt, that I would catch him. Eventually he came down and the smile on his face said it all.

Up again he went. Over and over and each time he laughed and smiled more. Eventually everyone took a turn. Even Sophie. She laughed and smiled. So down again we went. So happy she didn't cry and thinking once again that maybe Mason has been able to get past his fear of slides. I suppose we'll have to wait till the fall and Pumkinville to find out for sure.

While Mason went down the slide, one more time, the others found their way back to the corn bin and we joined them. The day was winding down, we were getting tired and enjoyed the rest, the cool breeze, and simple conversation.

Time to say good-bye to good friends and a long eventful day. But not before I snapped a few pictures of butterflies.

Pack the kids up in the car, put on Curious George, because it is a long trip, and head out of the parking lot.

Noooooooo! I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE! I WANT TO GO BERRY PICKING!!!

I had totally forgot that we hadn't gone berry picking until we were heading back to the car. But since everyone was too tired to stay and heading home he would forget. I should have known, my little elephant, the one who never forgets a single thing promised to him. I couldn't resist the wails and pleads to do the berry picking I so very much talked up to convince him to come today. So I quickly turned around and headed back into the parking lot.

Situating Sophie into the Ergo, I took Mason by the hand and headed back into the Country Store in search of the berry fields. After getting direction and halfway to the vines, I realized I didn't have anything to put the berries in. *sigh* As I got closer I saw that not many ripe berries were left anyway. Plus, I'm not a big fan of black berries and wasn't sure Mason would be either. But in we headed anyway.

Look Mom, I found one.

I'm not sure if it was the fact that we were hot and tired, I could barely keep my eyes open for the drive home. Or the nostalgia of picking berries having worn off since we do this in our backyard every night with raspberries, tomatoes, peppers, etc. But after two or three, we made our way back to the car, sweaty and Mason not wanting to walk anymore. Lets just say both kiddos took exceptionally good naps after passing out in the car.

I think we will try this berry picking thing again. However, next year we will come during strawberry or blueberry season when it is more exciting and something we would actually enjoy eating.