Poopy Birds

Since becoming a mom, I've had to deal with some pretty disgusting situations. These include, but are not limited to: pee, poop, projectile vomit, snotty noses, bloody lips, and really nasty food messes. Usually though, these things are spread out, so that even though it is unpleasant to deal with at the time, it is not too overwhelming.

This week, however, I feel as though I've been caught up in some sort of perfect storm, where nearly every disgusting thing that could happen, has happened. And it's only Tuesday.

Yesterday started out like any typical Monday. After Binker returned home from preschool, and ate lunch, I announced that it was nap time, since I had reached my limit and could barely keep my eyes open.

Even though Binker now sleeps in a big boy bed at night, I usually have him take naps in his tent, since I want to make sure that while I am passed out to the world, he is contained and safe. He tends to fall asleep very quickly in the tent too, versus being in his bed. The other day though, I was gone for a seminar, and Husband was watching the boys. When I got home that evening Husband informed me (all superior-like) that not only did Binker nap in his big boy bed, but that he fell asleep quickly, without much problem at all.

So, obviously, not wanting to look like the weaker parent, I decided that I would let Binker nap on his bed, but I made it so that he could not get out of his room. I figured that even if he didn't fall asleep, so long as he was in his room, there was no way he could accidentally hurt himself. And things were going great until Binker's cries broke the silence of my nap.

I ran to his bedroom and found him crying that his Lion was missing. Everything looked normal at first, until I noticed that the pants Jacob was wearing looked slightly wet. I quickly realized that he must have removed his diaper, and then put his pants back on...and wet them. I sighed in slight frustration. No big deal though, really. I just needed to put a new diaper and pants on him, and discard of the removed diaper.

It didn't take me long to find it.

My gaze moved to the right, and I noticed several odd, brown spots on the floor. I quickly realized that the diaper he had removed had not just been a wet diaper. I was staring at Poop-ageddon. And not only had Binker dumped the diaper contents all over the floor, but it appeared he had stepped in it as well, mashing it all into the carpet.

And you think you're grossed out.

Nap ruined, I got to work on discarding of the mess and sanitizing the affected area. It was exhausting, and, well, just plain gross. By the time I was done, I declared to anyone who would listen that I was totally done with that day, and ready for Tuesday, as I assumed things could only get better.

Tuesday morning started off pretty much the same. Got Binker dressed and ready for school. At 7:40 we headed out front to wait for the school bus. Bug was still sleeping, so I didn't shut the front door all the way, since I didn't want him to hear it click and start crying for me. I closed it just enough that it was shut, but just barely.

On any other day this would have been perfectly fine, except that today there was a crazy amount of wind blowing.

About six minutes later, Binker had been picked up and I ran back toward the house. My heart sunk when I saw that the wind had blown our front door wide open.

A lot of our neighbors have cats, and they like to wander around our yard for some reason. Don't get me wrong, I like cats and all, but I don't want strange cats in my house, near my kids' toys, and as a pregnant woman, I'm not really supposed to be near cats either. So my first thought was, Oh man, I really hope some cat didn't get in our house.

And that's when I saw it. A bird. Hopping around our family room. A dirty, grimy, disease-carrying bird. A FREAKING BIRD!

I wish it had only been a cat in our house.

When the bird saw me, it flew up to the windowsill behind our couch, and kept pecking at the window trying to get out. "No, you stupid bird!!" I kept yelling, "That's a window! Go out the door!"

There I was, broom in hand, shouting like a lunatic, trying to coax the bird off our windowsill to get him out the front door, and hoping he wouldn't touch any other surface in the house on the way out.

No dice.

Finally I got a hold of a juice pitcher, and I managed to get it over the bird, and slid a book underneath it, so that he didn't have an exit. Then, screaming, and jumping back and forth on my feet, I ran it outside and set the little rat-with-wings free.

At that point the real work began though. The bird had pooped all over our windowsill, some of it getting on the back of our couch, and it had also shed a bunch of its disease-infested feathers. Since becoming pregnant I have tried to avoid using a lot of harsh cleaning chemicals, and stuck mainly to soap and water to clean surfaces. But for this? I broke out the good stuff: Clorox Wipes and Lysol spray. I scrubbed and sprayed until there was nothing left. Then Bug and I let all the sanitizing chemicals sit for a good couple of hours while we sought refuge at my mom's house.

I'd be lying though, if I didn't admit that it crossed my mind to simply drag the couch out to the driveway and set it on fire.

So, this has been my week so far, and I hesitate to say that things can only get better from here on out, because I am NOT going to tempt the universe with that loaded statement.

I have to admit that when I used to imagine being a parent, these were not the images that came to mind. I pictured happy, smiling faces, clean children and a clean house, you know, something out of a 1950's sitcom.

I have decided though, that in reality, my life is a lot more like the show Fear Factor.

Only with less monetary prizes and more bird flu.

Underestimating

I don’t know what it is, but lately I feel like I have been underestimating Binker and his ability to learn new skills, or adapt to new situations. Perhaps it’s because a big part of me still sees him as my baby, even though he is now a couple months past his third birthday. I have a feeling that no matter how old he gets, I will always look at him as my first, sweet little boy.

Yet, I know that as much as I may dislike it, time does move on – all too quickly. And with the passing of time, Binker is going to grow and change, and with those changes come big milestones. Recently, Binker has accomplished a number of “big kid” things.

The first was eating with a spoon. Now, to be fair, he began using a spoon to eat quite a while ago, but I wasn’t consistent in having him use it. And I typically only allowed him a spoon at mealtime when it was something thick, like yogurt, which would stick to the spoon, to prevent a lot of spilling.

In the last few months, Binker has taken a liking to Chex cereal for breakfast, and I was having him just eat it with his fingers. But then, I looked at him one day, and it hit me that, he is three now, and should be mastering the spoon – even if it meant I might have a big mess on my hands. That is what learning is all about, right? Trial and error.

Nervously, the next day, I gave Binker a spoon with his bowl of milk and cereal. He got an excited gleam in his eye and dug right in with it. Here we go, I thought, certain that I would be wiping up a huge pile of milk and cereal off the floor in no time.

To my surprise, however, he took right to it. That’s not to say that some milk doesn’t end up on his pajama top, or dribbling down his chin; he is, after all, still a toddler. But when I saw how well he was doing with the spoon, I almost felt bad that I had underestimated his ability for so long. He now eats his cereal with a spoon on a daily basis, and he continues to get better and better.

The next milestone Binker achieved (and a HUGE one, I might add) was transitioning from his crib to a big boy bed. I will be perfectly honest here, I had been putting this process off for as long as possible. I was even considering just keeping him in a bed until about age 15. Okay not really, but pretty close. I just knew it was going to be an enormous headache – Binker had been in a crib tent since he was about 14 months, because as soon as he learned how to climb out of his crib, there was NO keeping him contained. I thought that with the freedom of a big boy bed, we would find ourselves in a huge tug of war every night over trying to get him to fall asleep, and then staying in the bed all night.

And this Mama loves her sleep ya’ll, so I was not exactly looking forward to losing a ton of sleep at night.

We kind of reached a point however, where I just knew we needed to start working on it. I chose a four-week period when Husband was out of town, so that he wouldn’t be bothered by our long, difficult nights that I just knew were to come. The first night, I told Binker to get in bed, and he headed for his crib. I picked him up, placed him on his big boy bed, and said that this was his bed now, no more crib, but he needed to stay in it all night. Even though I spoke seriously to him, in my head I couldn’t help but think, Who am I kidding?

Well, once again, Binker exceeded all of my expectations. He instantly LOVED being in the big boy bed, and played nicely with his toys until he fell asleep.

And then? He stayed asleep. All night.

I seriously could not believe my luck. I assumed it had to be some sort of a fluke, but then, night after night, he stayed in his bed and slept wonderfully for me. And, once again, I couldn’t help but feel like I had underestimated Binker’s ability to learn a new skill; I felt I had been holding him back.

And just this week, Binker tackled a new thing: riding the school bus. His summer preschool class started yesterday, and I was so nervous for how he would do on the bus ride. I didn’t know if he would be scared, being in a new vehicle, or if he would be afraid since no one familiar would be with him. I was sick to my stomach, worrying about him crying all alone on the bus ride. But, when the bus pulled up to our driveway after his first day, and I nervously asked the bus driver how Jacob did, he responded, “Terrific! Didn’t even faze him.”

I looked a few rows back to see my son happily looking out the window of the bus. Then he looked at me and said, “Mommy’s back!”

I couldn’t have been more excited for him, or proud of him for being such a brave, big boy. This morning when the bus came back to pick him up, without a moment’s hesitation, he stepped right on up, and took the very front seat, ready for another day of bus rides and preschool class. 

 Is he not the cutest preschooler ever?!

With all of these changes and milestones that Binker has accomplished in such a short amount of time, I find myself reevaluating a lot of the ways I have been approaching him, and perhaps, even, coddling him. I realize that he is much more capable that I have been giving him credit for, and even though it is somewhat of a bittersweet process, I am so excited to see him learning new things, and to see the pride he feels in himself.

Now, do I dare take on the next big milestone in our path…?

Beat Down by a Couple of Toddlers

There are some days when I am so on top of things, and all of the meals are delicious and well-balanced, and the kids are clean and well-behaved, and everything runs smoothly, and I can't help but feel a little smug and think to myself, I could totally have like six kids, parenting is a piece of cake.

And then there are days like today. When I am completely and utterly beat down by these little children of mine, and they are screaming and hitting and climbing and breaking and running circles around my inexperienced self. I feel so drained, and inept at this whole parenting business, and start to wonder how on earth I will ever manage being responsible for three human beings. And while I would normally reach for a nice, relaxing glass of wine, post-bedtime, to calm my nerves...and make me feel less like a complete failure, I unfortunately do not have that option now that I have a bun in the oven.

So, obviously, I do the next best thing, and eat a plate of cookies for dinner.

I made sure they were oatmeal chocolate chip though, since everyone knows oatmeal cookies are the healthy kind.

Oh well. Tomorrow is another day. And if tomorrow kicks my butt too, at least there are always more cookies.

Know

I was sitting in my kindergarten class. 

Most of the moms were visiting that day. Our teacher was reading the book, Love You Forever.

The lines repeated throughout the book are, "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."

I looked around, and all of the moms had tears running down their faces, kleenexes bunched in their fingers. My mom was no different. I looked at her blankly.  

Why was she crying? Why were any of them crying? 

Moms could be funny, and I didn't get it.

I've always been close with my parents, we have a great relationship. They told me often that they loved me, no matter what. But I didn't really get it until 4:07am on the morning of April 24th, 2008 when my first son, Jacob, came into the world.

In that moment, I understood the love my parents had always professed for my brother and me. In that moment, I came to know absolute, pure, unconditional love.

Sometimes at night I pick my children up out of their cribs and rock them in my arms. I hold them close and I feel almost suffocated by all the things I want to tell them.

That I love them in a way that no language can express. 

That I would die for them without a moment's hesitation. 

That I pray they never have to suffer any pain in their lives.

Growing up, when I did something wrong, I would be afraid to tell my parents. I'd imagine the worst possible reaction they could have, and it usually included them writing me off or disowning me.

Because I didn't get it.

If I could have known the depth of their love for me then, I don't think I would have been fearful in sharing my misdeeds with them. (Well, not as fearful anyway, because I still got punished).

As a parent, I want my children to know that I love them no matter what. It doesn't matter what they do, or what they say, or what they think. I will continue to love them. It is beyond my control, and I couldn't stop loving them if I wanted to.

And yet, I doubt they will get it either. 

Until the day comes when they hold their own firstborn child in their arms and they fall desperately in love with that perfect, precious baby.

Then they will finally know.