Sock It to Momma

The W had a tough day. The night before The Happy Elf awoke at 3 a.m. and stayed up partying until 5:30 a.m.; when the W decided to not fight it anymore and got up.

He's getting his 2-year molars right now so there's been a few restless nights. Top that off with 4.5 months of pregnancy; full-time work; part-time PhD student; pre-school volunteer; and generally tending to the motherly needs of the boys--she was spent.

She arrived home at 4:30 a few afternoons ago. She tried napping in the playroom (or as some people call it, the living room), but the boys wanted her to play. She moved from chair to couch. The boys followed.

Finally caving into exhaustion she announced she was going up to bed for a nap. Walking up the stairs sheer tiredness overtook her and she began to weep. I asked if anything was wrong, she said, "tired". The O announced he was tired too and was going to take a nap with mom.

I could see behind his eyes that he didn't mean it, but still I let him follow the W up to the bed. He came down a few minutes later and announced, "Mom was sad, but now she's OK."

I spent the next few hours trying to entertain the kids at a quiet volume so as not to disturb the Sleeping SugarPop. Only later did I learn what happened when the O went up with her. . .

Still weeping she crawled into bed. The O followed. He asked, "Momma, are you crying?"

"Yes O." she replied.

"Are you sad?"

"A little."

Where upon the O scooted off the bed, went to the basket filled with clothes to be laundered and plucked one of his socks from the pile. Climbing back onto the bed he dabbed his momma's tears with his sock.

"Is that better? Are you OK now?" he asked.

"Yes babe. Thank you."

Then the O came downstairs and the W slept for two hours.

We all try so hard to take care of our children. Seldom do we realize how well they take care of us.

Bed, Brush, and Beyond

There are few things that I am consciously grateful for everyday. Seeing the O and the Happy Elf at the end of my work day and sitting on the couch with Sugarpop once the boys are bedded and rehashing our day and planning our tomorrows tops my people list.

But there are two things that I think "this is the best thing I've ever bought" everyday. E v e r y d a y!

You've gotten the mailers, you've seen the commercials. You may have seen cheaper knock-offs. Folks I'm talking about the Tempur-Pedic bed and the Sonic Toothbrush.

First the bed:

Shortly after the Happy Elf's arrival Sugarpop began experiencing back problems. Our 5+ old nice mattress wasn't holding its weight anymore. This was early summer and with the W on unpaid leave, baby bills coming in, and expenses rising we were in no position to purchase a major item such as a "sleep system".

Attending a wedding one weekend in which Sugarpop was a bridesmaid, we were seated with another bridesmaid at the reception. Talked turned to beds and she said how much she loved her Tempur-Pedic. The W and I have had Tempur-pedic pillows for several years and were big fans, but to spend thousands ($2,700 to be exact) on a bed that we didn't know we'd like . . . yah, no. But she kept talking about how great it was. We were intrigued. That next weekend we went to Slumberland and laid on a real Tempur-Pedic bed for 10 minutes wondering if we liked it or not. The opinion that day--indecisive.

Sugarpop's back problems continued and we continued to go to Slumberland every few weeks to lay on the bed. August came and we decided to go for it. We ended up buying the bed on-line. One king-size deluxe model Tempur-pedic (including the Tempur-pedic box spring). The company threw in a free mattress, cover, two tempur-pedic pillows, no tax, and discounted shipping. Our credit card groaned under the weight of the purchase and we wondered what we were doing.

The bed arrived a week later. We set it up, made it up, and laid on it . . . did we like it? Not sure. The next morning the W woke up with her back feeling better. From that day on we were drinking the Tempur-pedic kool-aid. No more flipping the mattress. Twenty year warranty. Two and a half years later Sugarpop's back problems are gone, at least the non-prego ones. We both think we toss and turn less at night. And the boys can jump all they want on it, but since it's memory foam they sink instead of spring. As we lay us down to sleep each night our last thoughts are, "what a great bed."

Now on to the brush:

As Sugarpop and I headed for matrimony we were trying to consolidate our things. She had the better cookware. I had the better TV. She had better linens, towels and such. I had a better telephone, dvd, and vcr. We had both switched to the cheap, electric throw-away toothbrushes in the past year, but didn't think much of them. So before the Tempur-pedic was a glint in our eyes we bought a Sonic-Care toothbrush. It has a rechargeable battery, comes with two brush heads, and is a dental cleaning in your hand.

I remember the first time I used it. Like Wow! It was the same feeling of clean that you get after a dental visit. We've had the same Sonic-Care (minus new, replacement brushes) for 5+ years.

In that time due to a busy schedule and laziness I had neglected getting to the dentist for 18 months. Upon visiting the hygienist was impressed with how little tartar had built up. I told her I use a Sonic-Care and she and the dentist both attributed a good check up to the brush.

Again one of the few things that everyday I think, "I love this!"

The beyond part of this post will have to be carried over to my next post. But a short preview:

TV & kids. As parents we feel guilty turning on the telly so that the kids are sucked into the programming and we can fix dinner, pay the bills, put away laundry. We used to fire up Noggin or PBS Sprout and let the boys zone out. For the last year we've consolidated our kids' dvds and favorite shows into a single device controlled by us. Details to follow . . .

LOST Fans: Sawyer Nicknames

The W and I don't watch TV like we used to. Gone are all our reality-tv shows, sitcoms, and dramas; replaced with DVR'ed episodes of Dora, SUPER WHY!, and the flavor of the month (Wiggles, Barney, Clifford, Backyardigans, etc.).

One of the few shows we've stuck with (besides House) is LOST. We've watched it from the start and we can't leave it behind. I was visiting one of my favorite TV sites, TV Squad, and found that ABC is offering a Sawyer Nickname Generator.

After typing your name you select some characteristics about yourself. Then Sawyer gives you a nickname. The O ended up with "Ladybug", Happy Elf was "Mathboy", there wasn't a characteristic for "Chubby Hubby" so I ended up with "Picasso", but it was the W who was bestowed the best nickname and may be referred to in future posts with her Sawyer-given-nickname . . . "Sugarpop".

. . . but where are the dinosaurs?

Sunday afternoon the W, the O, and I went to Krannert Center. The C-U Symphony was performing a family concert with an instrument petting zoo prior to the show provided by the Music Shoppe. The theme was dinosaurs, a natural attraction to our O.

With the success of O's trips to Illini men's basketball games this year we are a little more confident in taking him to other events, knowing (or should I say hoping) that he can make it through the event. With this concert being a Family Concert we figured it to be fairly short. And it was at just over an hour.

The instrument petting zoo was fun. Various instruments were available for the kids to get hands on with. The O stroked a chello, snared a drum, beat a bongo, slid a trombone, although he lacked the oomph to toot the horn, and made like Lionel Hampton on the xylophone. The only thing missing were cymbals. The O loves them and we have a junior pair at home that both boys enjoy daily crashing together. We figured it prepares us as parents for any future attempt at musical instruments to be played under our roof. Bring in da' noise!

The music was outstanding, but the whole dinosaur theme was mostly lost on the kids. More abstract than concrete. We kept trying to tell O to use his imagination to see how the music could sound like dinosaurs. He sort of got it, but about halfway through he exasperatingly turned to us and said, "but where are the dinosaurs?"

The Problem of Poop

To paraphrase from C. S. Lewis' The Problem of Pain,

Not many years ago when I was not a parent, if anyone had asked me, "Do you know how to successfully potty train a toddler." My reply would have been something like this, "No, but it can't be that hard." And the truth is that it isn't . . . for seemingly everybody else!

Following up on a recent post from Mrs. Chicken about the travails of potty training The Poo, the W and I must profess our own difficulties with our first born. The O is now three years and 10 months old. He successfully pees in the pot, stays dry through the night, and hasn't had a diaper on under his clothes in months. Yet he refuses to drop a deuce in the toilet. He'll ask for a diaper. We put it on. He closes the bathroom door and when finished, announces he's done. Together we take off his diaper and he dumps his poop into the toilet. A quick clean-up and he's back to his business--which is anything but pooping.

Now we can't say we've tried everything, but we've tried most. We've done away with his diapers, but the Happy Elf is 19 months so the O knows there's a diaper or two in the house. We've been through stickers, M&Ms, potty prizes, praise (and prayers), DVDs, competition from his younger brother . . . no dice and no deuce.

One long weekend we decided to "go for it." No diapers, no compromises. Do it on the stool or else . . . We didn't find what the "else" was. Instead the O flew into fits of rage, anger, and frustration. What should we do? Stick with it? What we experienced was out of the norm for all of us and we checked several books and websites on where to go from there. What instinct told us was to step back. He obviously wasn't ready . . . and still isn't. And that's cool. We know he'll get it. We didn't force crawling, walking, talking etc. Why force this developmental milestone? We're not sitting on the sidelines just waiting. We are encouraging, sometimes cajoling, but for us we've made our peace with poop.

We take great solace from the book Todder 411 (we bought our copy at Pages for All Ages) concerning Potty Training. They say, "Toilet training takes one day--you just have to pick the right day!"

That seems to echo a lot of the experiences we've read. "He just did it by himself." "She announced she was through with diapers." "He said he was going to use the potty because he was a big boy now."

And so we wait for that "right day" to potty train the O.

Stink Out!

This latest posts wraps up the "* Out" Trilogy Posts of the past week. Enjoy!

Answer.com defines Stink Out as having only one meaning: cause to smell bad; fill with a bad smell. Synonyms: stink up, smell up.

On Friday nights, after the boys have their baths, we pull out the the sofa-bed and watch an age-appropriate movie while munching on pizza and popcorn and letting the O have his weekly ration of soda. His current favorite sippy cup is a tall, pink Disney Princess cup, with Diet Sprite and heavy ice, but I digress.

"Couch-into-a-bed-night" is a hit. It signals to the O and Happy Elf that pre-school and childcare (generously provided by the W's parents) is over for the week and they can look forward to a couple of "home days."  Once the kids are bedded, the W and I will watch a movie or catch up on tv. It's a nice way to end the work week and start the weekend.

This past Friday was no different. After baths we pulled out the sofa-bed, bounced on the thick-as-two-Wheat-Thins mattress, and settled down with pillows and blankets for the featured movie "Stuart Little." Usually the boys don't make it halfway through the movie before they are nodding off. 

That night was no different and by 8 pm we were settled in enjoying some NKT (no kids time) ... and watching "Superbad" whilst chowing on some Papa John's Hawaiian pizza. Early in the movie the W, at 2+ months prego, detected an "odor". With an almost 4 and a 1.5 year olds who run around in the house without their britches on after baths or trips to the potty, we were suspicious of some errant, unauthorized No. 1 on the carpet. We couldn't locate the source and tried to keep watching the movie, but the smell proved too overpowering and with our failure to locate the source we retired for the night.

What was interesting about this smell was that it didn't really have a specific odor. It wasn't acrid like pee, nor was it strongly sour like milk, nor pungently powerful like poop. It wasn't necessarily a body odor smell--our noses were forever changed one hot, July night at the Virginia Theater by the worst case of foot odor we've ever encountered. A sockless, sandal wearing woman continually slipping her feet out of her footware and letting them go "commando" on the balcony rail of the theater, sending wave after wave of nauseating stench pounding through our noses that we endured until intermission (we relocated to the other side of the theater). We've forgotten what play we saw that night, but we will never forget that smell. Again, I digress.

Back to "Couch-into a bed" story.

The next morning, armed with my Bissell Little Green carpet machine, I conducted a wall-to-wall odor search and destroy mission. My senses must have been sharper that morning because I quickly focused in on the source of the smell. 

Eeeww. Underneath the bed inside the couch part where the bed stores was a tipped over sippy cup that had been full of milk, but now held some sort of cottage cheesed concoction. It's hard to say if it was there for a week or many weeks. The milk had dripped out of the opening of the sippy cup and had saturated the carpet with this smelly mess. Inside the cup portions of the milk had turned gelatinous, but the center remained liquid. Pulling back the mattress to get a better look the smell was overwhelming. I took the sippy cup to the sink and upon opening the lid another wave of putrescence hit me hard. I turned my head and dumped the contents down the drain, running the facet for several minutes to get the foul smell down the pipes.

Back to the spill with my Little Green I sprayed the area heavily with the Bissell carpet cleaner. The cleaner mixed with the stagnate milk made for an odd odor--half nasty half antiseptic. The Little Green sucked up this foul mixture into its container. This was like the Seinfeld episode with the valet attendant with the BBO (beyond body order). The smell wouldn't get out of Jerry's car and I was facing a similar fate. Several Little Green cleanings, a heavy spray of Febreze, and windows open in the family room for a few hours finally started to lift the smell away. Oh there was still traces of it around for a few days, but I think I've finally exorcised this spoiled milk demon smell.

Now when we have "Couch-Into-A-Bed" Night I keep track of those sippy cups like a prison guard during a lock down. Never again on my watch!

Time Out!

Last Sunday our family went to the Illini men's basketball game. We have tried to go as a family to Illini football and basketball games in the past. We have a family pool of season tickets that we share with my parents and assorted siblings and their spouses and children.

Initially, in the past, it worked well. Our oldest, now almost four, did okay until he turned two. Then the noise of the stadium, including F-16 fly overs, and the din of the Assembly Hall during the Final Four season was too much for him. He said, through tears and screams, that it was "too big."

So we didn't take the kids to any games last season. We thought a year off would be best. 

What a difference a year makes! Sunday game time came and we entered the Assembly Hall, me, the W, the O (our 3 year old), and our 18 month old (the Happy Elf). 

Both boys did very well. We stayed for the whole game. The O's favorite part of the game was in the second half when at the 16:00 minute time out the cheerleaders ran around the Assembly Hall with the big "I" flags. We sit in low C so the big flag went right past us. The Happy Elf's favorite part was a large container of popcorn and a pack of M & Ms.

My favorite part of the game was when the Illini called a time out, my father turned to the O and asked, "Do you know what a time out is?" The O solemnly looked up into his grandfather's face and said with all the seriousness he could muster and in a whisper said, "yes."