The ninja nuggets

Hannah is finally starting to poop on the potty. It’s only been…hmm…I can’t even remember, but way too long. I’ve cleaned up way too much poo. Ick. Sigh.

And by starting, I mean only just. As in the day before yesterday. Seems marshmallows are worth sitting on the toilet for.  Especially the pink ones.

This morning started out well. There was no vomit (because yesterday, there was lots. Ick. I hate vomit. But you all know that well enough by now), Hannah was drinking and eating and playing.

But then I smelled something. Something icky. Something poop-ish. Ick. I thought it was Daniel. A quick smell through his clothes proved otherwise.

“Hannah, do you have to poop?”

“No.”

“Are you just doing stinky toots?”

“No.”

“Who’s making those smells?” Hannah asked me. Usually she admits when she farts. Or poops. Or both. I didn’t think it was her, I thought Daniel must just be farting and not pooping.

I kept smelling it. Hannah’s back was to me.

And there it was. A protrusion from her pants. A clear as day poo coming out (or already out) outline. Ick.

I took her to the bathroom and checked her underpants. A poo nugget had already been freed in there. I stood her on the toilet, one foot on each side and pulled her underwear down, and towards the front of the toilet, in one quick fluid movement. That’s the best way to not get poo on myself, herself, and/or our surroundings. The poo nugget dropped nicely in the toilet without touching anything. Yeah, underpants emptying is a good skill to have. It’s taken me a long time to develop it. Sigh.

“Are you done pooping? Do you need to do some more?” I asked her.

“I need to do some more.” She told me. I sat her down on the toilet, her special I-don’t-want-my-child-to-fall-in smaller seat fitted to the inside of the normal seat.

I stepped towards the door to go get the iPad. Watching Mickey Mouse helps her poop. Whatever works right?

I felt something under my foot. It didn’t feel like a towel. Or clothes. Or a rubber ducky, a bottle of shampoo, a washcloth, a hairbrush, or anything that may be accidentally lying about the bathroom floor (and by accidentally, I mean a toddler and/or cheeky baby put it there).

It felt wrong. Like when I stepped on it, it was one height, and then it shrank as the weight of my foot beat down on it.

I lifted my foot, panic filling me. I knew what it must be. But I was still hoping it wasn’t.

I looked down. And there it was. A squished poo nugget. Ick.

I saw the nugget from her underwear fall into the toilet. How on earth did that one get there? Oh my gosh, I stepped in poo. Human poo. Ick.

I wiped it up with some toilet paper and flushed it away before immediately scrubbing the floor with disinfectant. Seriously, how did it get there?

A few hours later Hannah told me she had to poop.

“It’s coming out of my bottom!” She screeched.

We ran to the bathroom. Part of it was already loose in her underpants. We did the whole standing-on-toilet-seat thing again. Again, the poo went in the toilet and then I sat her down and headed towards the door.

Splat. Oh frick. Not again. 

I picked up my foot. Crap (literally). Those darn ninja nuggets struck again. How could I step on poop TWICE in one day?!?!?! HOW DID THEY GET THERE???!!!! Luckily I was wearing socks. Both times.

Sigh.

Maybe I’m not so skilled at dropping poop from Hannah’s underpants into the toilet. Double sigh.

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Copyright 2012 Sheri Thomson

8 annoying things kids do

Everyone loves their kids. But lets face it, sometimes they do things that drive us nuts. Here are some of them:

1. They ask a question. You answer it. But then they want to know why. You tell them. But then they want to know why to that answer. And so on, and so on, and so on, and sooooooooooo oooooooonnnnnnnnn….

2. You go to put your baby in his car seat. And he suddenly wants to play I’m-a-completely-stiff-tree. Helpful.

3. Toddlers like to dress themselves. They like to choose their clothes. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean just going to the closet, nicely browsing through the choices, and then choosing one. Nope, not like that at all. Sigh.

4. Every time you attempt to put on your baby’s clothes, he thinks it’s time to see how much he can flap his limbs. Not only that, but he also enjoys throwing his head back with a gusto, whilst turning into a little human pretzel.

5. Parents put so much effort into preparing healthy delicious, kid-friendly meals for their toddlers. We serve it up to them in creative ways. But what do they do? They turn their little noses up and declare they don’t like it. Before they try even try it.

6. “No! No! No! No!” Ick, the terrible twos.  Defiance is rife, and often makes me want to scream and run for the hills.

7. You can’t wear your hair down, or wear any sort of jewellery, otherwise giant clumps of hair will be pulled out, earrings will be painfully ripped from your ears, and necklaces will half choke you before being completely broken.

8. When you’re changing a nappy, they seem to thoroughly enjoy playing rodeo. I.E. their little bottom is the out of control bull, and you have to attempt to wrangle it back onto the change table long enough to actually get the nappy on.

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What annoying things do your kids do?

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What happens when YOU jump rope?

“Here’s the personal massager you ordered.” the dirty old delivery man said.

Oh my gosh, WHAT!?!?!?!  “I did NOT order a personal massager!” I practically yelled at him.

Sorry about the messy writing...still have to do everything with my left hand

“You’re Sheri ____?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t order any personal massager!”

“And feminine moisturiser.” He read off the customs declaration on the package.

I gave him a weird look.

Of course it probably didn’t help that I was dripping wet with only a pink towel around myself.  It was 6 days before Christmas and we were waiting on a big package full of all our Christmas presents that we ordered from the states.  I wasn’t about to miss the arrival of that package.

I was in the middle of my morning shower when I heard the knock on the door. Sure I could have let him leave a note and then picked it up at the post office.  But I have 2 kids.  And 2 hands. That leaves no hands for carrying the package from the post office to the car.  Did I mention that the post office is on the busiest street in my town?

So I jumped out of that shower like a drowned rat on the scent of cheese and excitedly ran for my front door, glad that the Christmas package was actually arriving before Christmas.

“Well, enjoy your surprise package then.”  Yeah thanks old man.

I looked at the package in my hands wondering who the heck would send me a “personal massager.”

“Kegel exerciser. Feminine Moisturiser.” The customs declaration said. Oh…It was just some products to review on my blog. So why was the dirty old delivery man telling me it was a personal massager?  And even if it was, no one would ever, EVER want the delivery man to say it out loud.

I jumped at the chance to review a pelvic floor exerciser for Intimina.  We all know how child birth weakens the pelvic floor.  I couldn’t even jump rope without a little pee coming out.  I wrote a blog post about it. So embarrassing!  Add another birth and I was in serious need of some pelvic floor help.

Kegel exercisers

I have to say I was a little intimidated by the fact that I had to actually put something…er...in there.  I still have memories of my over zealous use of the epi-no when I was pregnant with Hannah.  Long story short, I over inflated it (it’s supposed to stretch you out a bit so you don’t tear giving birth), and it made me bleed. Ick.

When I finally tried out the little pink kegel exerciser, it was fine.  It didn’t hurt, and once in place, I didn’t even notice it.

The Laselle Kegel Exercisers work by “providing a solid object for you to flex around for more effective strengthening.” The weighted ball inside causes vibrations that prompt your pelvic floor to contract and relax.  I couldn’t find anywhere on their website or the packaging how long you’re supposed to use them each day, so I just went about my chores with it for about 20 minutes, with some flex and holding.

An email from Intima let me know that it’s like any other exercise; you start with a few reps and a small amount of time and then increase to suit your needs.

All I know is: I can jump up and down (I can’t really jump rope, my arm is still in a cast…), and no pee comes out.  Kegel Exercisers: $15.95AUD. Jumping without soiling my underpants: priceless.

To buy in the U.S. click here

To buy in Australia click here

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A 6 month birthday

Six months ago today my chubby, cheeky little man was born.  It’s crazy to think that just six months ago, he was posterior in my belly, kicking up a storm. Seriously, take a look, this was Danny boy kicking at 35 weeks. Watch it, seriously, it’s crazy:

Happy half birthday Danny!! I can’t believe how big you are (born 3.2kgs, now over 8kgs).  Well, I guess I can, this was me as a baby:

Fat little me with my brother

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Is it me?

This post has lots of cartoons.  You will laugh.  It’s about 7 months old, but since many of you are new, you probably haven’t read it.  So head on over to Mom Illustrated , whose blog you will love if you like mine at all.  It’s a lot like mine, only she can actually draw. Anyway, check out my guest post ‘Am I hard to live with?’ Click here.

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“What’s this Mommy?”

Last week it was really hot.  Like 35 degrees (95f).  And humid. Ick.  Did I mention we don’t have any airconditioning?  Anyway, the kids and I were disgustingly hot and sticky, so we got the pedestal fan out of Aaron and my bedroom and planted it in the playroom (aka the living room…).  I stripped Daniel down to his nappy and Hannah went one step further, choosing to be completely starkers.  We laid on the living room floor, arms out wide, relishing the kinda cool air from the fan.

A little while later, Hannah held something up. It was small, about the size of a pinky fingernail. And dark.

“What’s this Mommy?” She asked me, inspecting it.

She didn’t really let me answer. “It’s a poo nugget,” she stated.

I laughed.  How could I not laugh? “It’s not a poo nugget sweetie!  Maybe it’s a raisin?”

I went over to investigate anyway.  I didn’t want her eating random raisins off the floor.

Then I saw it.  Next to her foot there was indeed a poo nugget. It must have fallen off the tiny piece in her hand when she picked it up. Oh my gosh, my daughter was holding up a piece of poo.  In her hand. EEEEEWWWWWW!

“Oh, it is a poo nugget!”

I got some toilet paper from the bathroom and picked up the nugget and the disgusting nuggety fragment from her grubby little hand and flushed it down the toilet, washing our hands vigorously afterwards.

A bit later she was next to the couch.”Oh, there’s another poo nugget.” She told me.

I didn’t doubt her for a second this time.  I looked all around, but all I found was a piece of fluff.

“Do you mean this?”  I asked her.

“Yeah, it’s a poo nugget.”

Thank goodness it wasn’t.  I threw the fluff away.

The next day I was sitting on the couch.  Something icky kept filling my nose.  Something poopy.  I sniffed around like a dog on the scent of a rabbit.  I got down on all fours, nose to the ground and moved forward toward the scent as it got stronger.  Finally I came to the edge of the couch.  The smell was strong there.  I looked all around, but couldn’t see anything.  It didn’t help that our carpet is a disgusting 80s brown, shaggy thing.

But there it was, under the couch.  Under the couch?  How in the world does a poo nugget get under the couch?  I’m not sure I want to know.  But I was in the playroom/living room with them when Hannah had her nappy off, and I certainly didn’t see her pooping.  Nor did I see her putting anything under the couch.  Not to mention that poo nugget was about 10 feet away from the other poo nugget.  WTF? I’m not sure I want to know….

On the plus side, ever since that day, Hannah wants to wear underpants. But, she doesn’t actually want to sit on the potty, so I’ve been spending a lot of time with a towel and the carpet cleaner.  Sigh.

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The No-Cry Picky Eater Solution

I was the pickiest eater when I was little.  I pretty much survived on milk, cheese pizza (yes, only cheese pizza, if there was anything else on it, I would not touch it), macaroni and cheese, turkey hot dogs, and of course, any child’s favorite: junk food.  Cake.  Cookies.  Candy.  Chocolate.  Brownies.  Mmmm…brownies.  I’m not even joking, that was my diet.

Needless to say, I did not want Hannah to be like me.  Sure, I eat healthy now (The first time I told my parents I ate a stir fry with about 10 different vegetables in it, they probably almost died of shock), but that didn’t start to happen until I was 18 years old.  Hannah wasn’t allowed to eat anything even remotely resembling junk food until she was about 2.  You can’t really keep a 2 year old from birthday cake.  They just know too much by then.  And they have a nose for chocolate.  Even if they see a random box, one they’ve never seen before in their life, if it’s filled with chocolate, they’ll know.  And they’ll want some.  I laboriously made all of her baby food.  I started her on all the vegetables before any fruit so she wouldn’t get a sweet tooth.

It didn’t work.  Well, it did for a while.  She used to eat everything I gave her with a gusto. But then she reached toddler-hood.  She learned how to say she doesn’t want something, and she doesn’t eat if she darn well doesn’t want to.  She wants treats all the time.  She is constantly asking for chocolate and lollipops.  I can give her a plate filled with nutritious, delicious food and she will look at it, wrinkle her little nose up and declare “I don’t want any. I’m done eating.” Sigh.

So when I was contacted to review “The No-Cry Picky Eater Solution,” I jumped at the chance.  Heck yes I would like to review it, thank you very much!

I have to admit, I was wanting, expecting, and hoping for a quick fix, miracle-ish solution.  Sorry, but that’s just not possible.  We know it’s not, so don’t even get that into your head.  On the contrary, the book equips parents for the long haul.  It gives us long-term solutions to set up our children’s eating habits for life.  It assured me that I’m not alone in my near daily oh-my-gosh-my-child-won’t-eat-is-she-going-to-be-malnourished worries, and my oh-my-gosh-why-won’t-you-just-take-one-darn-little-bite-before-declaring-my-worked-so-hard-on-it-so-you-would-eat-it-meal-unworthy-of-your-existance frustration and crankiness.  It equipped me with the knowledge I need to not turn eating into a battle, a trauma for my child, or for me.  It calmed my constant frustration about her eating habits (or lack there of).  The No-Cry Picky Eater Solution is a book that every parent of a toddler needs.  Unless you are one of those really lucky ones whose child is like a wonderful vacuum and will eat anything that you throw at her.

It is a great book, but it is a bit repetitive.  Have a read, equip yourself with knowledge, and know that you’re in it for the long haul.  in the mean time, why not try some of this.  I mix it in with Hannah’s juice in the morning, so at least I know she is getting some nutrients (note, I was not compensated, given free samples, or anything for this  product, I just like it).

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A surprise for Hannah

Hannah loves music.  Singing.  Dancing. That sort of stuff.  So I decided to finally put some Christmas music on my iPod for us to listen and dance to.

“Hannah, I have a surprise for you!”  I told her when she woke up, all excited about seeing her happy little face.

Her face lit up.  Her mouth turned up into a gorgeous big smile. Her face radiated excitement. “BUBBLES!!!!??????!!!!!!!!” She shrieked.

Uh-oh.

“No sweetie, I put some music on my iPod for us to listen to.  We can dance!”

Her smile turned upside down.  Her face turned to sadness.  There were no bubbles.  “Oh.” She said, clearly disappointed.

I turned on the iPod dock and let the Christmas cheer loose.

“I have my own music.”  She told me as she turned on an annoying tune from her keyboard.

Sigh.

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The Santa photo

My dad is a photographer.  I used to be a photographer (and of course I can still be one if I so chose…).  So you’d think with cameras around all the time, Hannah would be the most photogenic little thing ever.  Except she’s not.  She never has been.  I hardly have any photos of her smiling.  The only way to get one is to have the person taking the photo pretty much hide in the bushes while Hannah goes about her business.  As soon she sees that camera, the serious face, the frowny face, or the angry face comes out.  Or the running legs, straight towards the camera in hopes of grabbing it.

Needless to say, getting a good Santa photo is pretty much impossible.  Last year The Jess and I took her while Aaron was at work and we ended up having to sit with her in the photo.  That of course, was kind of odd since Aaron wasn’t in the photo, so we had to go back and get one with Hannah and Aaron.

But now Hannah loves Santa.  He features in a couple Mickey Mouse episodes, and even a Dora episode.  I told Hannah we were going to see Santa, and that she’d get to sit with him, and tell him what she wants for Christmas.  She was very excited.  She was asking to go all morning.

Aaron carried her over to Santa’s sleigh, but there was no smile.  No squeal of delight.  No excited “Hi Santa!!”  Nope, there was a frowny face, silence, a lot of staring, and about a foot between her and Santa.

On the other side of Santa, there was a little Daniel, sitting on his lap, ravenously hungry after waiting in the Santa line for half an hour.  Fingers in mouth, eyes anywhere but the camera.  Then the crying started.  Seems babies really are ruled by their stomachs.

Before we got there, I had high hopes of getting the perfect Santa photo.

But instead, it looked like this:

Maybe if Santa wasn’t just sitting there, with his blank stare and unmoving body.  I remember sitting on Santa’s lap when I was little.  He always asked me what I wanted for Christmas, showed lots of enthusiasm and then gave me a candy cane at the end.

A couple days later we decided to try again, since I didn’t have a decent photo to buy the first time.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!  I don’t want to see Santa!!!!”  Hannah screamed.  She was not impressed.

The moment her bottom hit that squishy seat next to Santa, her face crinkled up, tears poured from her eyes.  She stood up and held out her little arms, screaming for me to come and get her.

Daniel was in a good mood.  His belly was full, he’d had a good nap. He was smiling like a trooper.  So in the end, this is what we ended up with:

Which is great, if we only had one child.  Oh well, it’s better than nothing.

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Breastfeeding: Would you do it in public?

I’ve never been one for formula because a) breast milk is very good for babies, b) formula is expensive and I’m…well…cheap, and c) formula seems to require way too much effort for my liking.  Sterilise bottles, mix the formula, heat it up, wash all the bottles. Sigh.

So what happens when a fully breastfed baby is taken out for the day?  Sure, you could express some milk and bottle feed that to the baby.  But some babies, like mine, won’t take a bottle.  To them, a bottle is just an icky plastic thing that someone is trying to shove in their mouths instead of the warm nice booby where they can snuggle up with mommy while having their meal.  A bottle in the mouth induces a wild flapping attack complete with screaming.  Anyone looking on would think the baby is being cruelly tortured.

What do we do?  The baby has to be fed.

Well, I’ll tell you:  I just whip the girls out wherever I am.  Sure if there is a mothers room, I’ll go there to feed Daniel.  They are much easier.  They have nice plush chairs to sit on, a little play area for Hannah, and best of all, they are out of the public eye.  Of course not all places have these awesome mother’s rooms, so often I have no choice.

Like the other week, when The Jess and I took the kids to the city (and by the city, I mean Sydney) to visit Aaron at work for lunch.  Sydney is about an hours train ride from where we live.  We could drive, but driving in the city is a bit scary, and finding parking is virtually impossible and ridiculously expensive. So, train it was.  We got there alright, but by the time we started for home, Daniel was hungry.

No worries, I just fed him on the train.  Everyone else looked very uncomfortable.  No one would sit next to me, opting instead to stand up.

“That’s disgusting.”  I heard one teenager tell her friend.  Well how do you think you got your nutrients when you were a baby?  It didn’t bother me any, my baby was hungry, and no one could even see anything.  Except for the back of a baby.  A baby head was in front of my boob, obscuring it from view, a baby body was in front of my bare stomach (it had to be bare, you gotta pull your shirt up to let the boob out.  Unless you’re wearing a very low top and have floppy boobs (I have neither).  Then you can go over your shirt.) hiding it as well.  I put Daniel’s head in front of me before pulling my breastfeeding bra down, so there is no nipple to be seen the entire time.  Ok fine, except when he decides to pull off and smile at me, but I can’t really control that.  Plus it’s adorable.  But even then, only someone sitting beside me would be able to see it.

Tuesday, Jess, the kids, and I, had to pick up some stuff Aaron bought GraysOnline  .  They have this big area with lounges where you wait while they get your stuff and call your number.  Daniel was hungry.  I sat down and fed him.  He wasn’t finished when they called my number.  I stood up and went to the counter, still feeding Daniel as I walked.  Boy did I get some strange looks.  My stomach was hanging out that time.  Can’t really hide it when standing….

Then we went to Costco where I saw a lady walking around breastfeeding while shopping.  I wanted to hug her.  I thought it was great.  The baby was hungry, she fed it.  Why do people think that’s so weird?  It’s not like there’s anywhere to sit and feed a baby at Costco.  I suppose you could sit on one of their demo outdoor furniture settings (I may have contemplated such a thing…), but I don’t think they would have appreciated that too much.

So would you breastfeed in public?  Why or why not?

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