As a side note, on Wednesday's post, I had written about how Berry took a large dump in the back of Chris's patrol car....well, as I was reading that post to Chris today (he would rather listen than read it himself), I stumbled across this part:
"This is one of those times you think, "better him than me!" and then feel bad for thinking it because you know that as soon as you start getting smug, one of the kids will take a dump on the floor and you'll be left to clean it up alone."
...and if you read the blog I wrote earlier today, you will see where the joke (and more) is on me.
[shakes head]
Friday, February 29, 2008
Shoveling Poop and Roping a Deer
Well, it's Friday and my day started out on a high note (more like greenish-brown) as Ian tried to change his own poopy pull-up and managed to get it on his foot, track it around the house a few times (think Billy on the Family Circus) and then end up in the bathroom with the offending foot in the sink, trying to wash it off without anyone knowing. All this happened as Erin was waking up, Chris was getting ready for work and I was still stumbling around groggily with my hair all sticking up before I had my morning anything. So Chris was denied his shower and had to go to work in the middle of the cleanup mission with a stubbly face and a grouchy look, since he had tried to disrobe Ian without getting messy (no success). Ian was thrown in the shower, the BM shoveled off of him (by me. With my hand--blewahgack!) and washed thoroughly. Erin had to cry a bit as I scrubbed carpet, removed rugs and mopped everything else. Then I had to clean the sink (GACK!) and get Ian dressed again. Chris took care of Erin before he left, so she was safely playing in her Exer-Saucer by the time I was giving the floor a final scrub. Then I washed and disinfected myself about 14 times and still just felt nasty. Then I checked my email and got a much needed laugh. No, really, this story saved my day from being absolutely heinous (as well as the days of my children, because everyone knows that when Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy). So without further ado, Thank you Tammi and here's the story she sent me. :)
Roping A Deer...Names have been removed to protect the stupid!
Actual Letter from someone who writes, and farms.
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it.The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right upand sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home. I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.
After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up -- 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it...it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and then received an education.
The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.
That deer EXPLODED.
The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and with some dignity. A deer-- no chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined.
The only upside is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals. A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the endof that rope. I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, itwould likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual.
Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn't want the deer to have it suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand...kind of like a squeeze chute.I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do!
I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist.Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head--almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead.
My method was ineffective. It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now) tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the bejesus out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.
Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up ontheir back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, andtheir hooves are surprisingly sharp.I learned a long time ago that, when an animal -- like a horse --strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy.I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run.
The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head.Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down. Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.
So now I know why when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope so that they can be somewhat equal to the Prey.
Chris and I laughed our heads off at the end of the day when I read it to him. This poor guy, after recovery, was a pretty good sport to tell everyone else. Then again, the best stories are true. I guess that's why blogs are so great.
Roping A Deer...Names have been removed to protect the stupid!
Actual Letter from someone who writes, and farms.
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it.The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right upand sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home. I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.
After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up -- 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it...it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and then received an education.
The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.
That deer EXPLODED.
The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and with some dignity. A deer-- no chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined.
The only upside is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals. A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the endof that rope. I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, itwould likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual.
Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn't want the deer to have it suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand...kind of like a squeeze chute.I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do!
I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist.Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head--almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead.
My method was ineffective. It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now) tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the bejesus out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.
Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up ontheir back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, andtheir hooves are surprisingly sharp.I learned a long time ago that, when an animal -- like a horse --strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy.I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run.
The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head.Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down. Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.
So now I know why when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope so that they can be somewhat equal to the Prey.
Chris and I laughed our heads off at the end of the day when I read it to him. This poor guy, after recovery, was a pretty good sport to tell everyone else. Then again, the best stories are true. I guess that's why blogs are so great.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Feeling fuzzy, and I'm not talking about my legs
Yep, there comes a time when the day after starts getting hazy, like trying to look through heat waves on asphalt and the world around you just starts to look all wavy-looking and it's time to sit in the shade for a while. After 2.4 hours of sleep, it's the night after and it's time for me to sit down. The morning was rocky, since Ian got up at 7am and was very bright-eyed, as he usually is. Erin still woke up about every hour, crying and straining and gassing up a storm. She had three potty diapers today (none loose, so that's good)* and finally stopped crying so much when we went to the park. She snoozed while I wheeled the stroller around the track as much as Ian would let me without having to go rescue him from the top bar of the jungle gym and help him go down the 'fire pole.' It was very chilly, even though the sun was shining and I was ready to go way before Ian was, but he was such a good boy this morning while Mommy zombied about and Daddy mimed being awake before taking the baby and snoring with her in the chair (it was so cute I had to go lie down). Ian played video games and played trains by himself, probably happy for the uninterrupted play time (you know how Moms like to nag when you're just getting to the good part of your book, game, video game, movie, train track, car ramp, etc.). Anyway, since it wasn't too awfully bad outside (the sun was shining! We who are not in Florida salute the sun whenever it comes out!), we went to the park. Anything to get Erin to stop crying and catch up on her beauty sleep. She did not want any food today that was not milk, even though I tried.
The bonus part of the day came when I was in the shower, trying to remember if I had shampooed my hair or not and the phone rang. It was our real estate agent, giving us an update. From what Chris told me, when the agents do a company walk-through, they bring a checklist and afterwards tell the seller what they can do to improve the house to sell faster. Our house made it through with flying colors with only one infraction and all agreed that the house was well priced and expected to not be on the market long (HOO Ha!). Our improvement was that the laundry room/possible 3rd bedroom/Ian's train room was drafty and there was condensation on the sliding glass doors. Therefore it was decreed that we should put real doors there instead of the sliders for better insulation. I agree, but we are not about to fork over 5 or 6 hundred smackeroos when it's going to sell anyway. I don't like the sliders either because they freeze shut and lock behind you when you shut the door (see previous post for eye-rolling details), but oh well. Our agent also told us that she has had 4 calls to inquire about our house from the sign out front as well as one person from out of state contact her after seeing it online who is interested in seeing it [or just buy it and pay us an extra $15,000 to be out in ten days; what movie was that from? Father of the Bride II. hahahahahahahahaha. Ok, getting tired) in the next week or two. Either way, she said to expect more showings (that doesn't sound right) in the next week or so.
Chris is having me check our bank account daily (hourly, minutely (I know that's not right. I'm not THAT tired, but it just sounded funny), whatever) to see whether or not his Florida Dept of Law Enforcement (FDLE) application to transfer his academy time to FL has been processed. We figure that they'll cash the check before they do anything else and I guess someone's on vacation or something because it's probably still sitting in somebody's inbox (or worse, still sitting in the Westville Post Office underneath something) begging to be opened. Now, I know, I know, they tell you to give them 6 weeks for processing, but come on! It's been almost two weeks already. Chris is excited and worried that he went to the one academy in the known world that doesn't transfer. Silly.
Regardless, he is still having me check the post office every day without fail, a sure sign that he is excited, because if it were up to him, he would check it once a week and the mail would be stuffed in the box like intestines are stuffed in the body, once you get them out, it's about impossible to get them all back in* (we tried in A & P lab, didn't we Rachel?). We have decided that at our new house in FL, we really would like to have a mailbox. Really.
For Papaw's amusement, Ian compensated for not being able to pee in the Walmart bathroom drain by peeing in the bathtub drain today while I was rinsing out the tub before bathtime. He was very pr
oud of himself. He also made an attempt to sit on the toilet without his little potty seat, where he tried for a couple of seconds before grunting and announcing "I can't do it like this," and running out of the bathroom naked. The naked part didn't have anything to do with his potty preferences, he just likes to be aired out every once in a while, probably more so when it gets warmer. He is discovering the changes in his body parts due to changes in temperature and it is so much fun to relay these incidents to Chris later. It really gives us some good laughs. Can't help it if your kid is just so cute, can ya?
oud of himself. He also made an attempt to sit on the toilet without his little potty seat, where he tried for a couple of seconds before grunting and announcing "I can't do it like this," and running out of the bathroom naked. The naked part didn't have anything to do with his potty preferences, he just likes to be aired out every once in a while, probably more so when it gets warmer. He is discovering the changes in his body parts due to changes in temperature and it is so much fun to relay these incidents to Chris later. It really gives us some good laughs. Can't help it if your kid is just so cute, can ya? Anyway, back to the Baby Noodle. After the park, she conked out in the swing (after crying some more) and slept for more than 4 hours. I woke her up around 8:30 so she could eat (I was about to explode*...yikes) and then she was awake, sort of. She enjoyed having her diaper changed and really whooped it up in the tub. But I think her cold hit another stage because she is all red-eyed and bleary and just looks hung over (again, my concept of hangovers is completely general, since I have never had one and try to avoid others who do due to their sensitive natures during that time). After her bath, which was refreshing (those Soothing Vapors) but again, the bubbles just taste gross, because she kind of made a face and spit them out and didn't try them again (and yes, I did clean the tub thoroughly when Ian was finished, thank you very much). Then it was PJ time and hairbrushing time and feeding time some more (we had a lot there to consume) and then it was full bellytime. Kind of like puppies or kittens with their big full bellies taking a nap in a sunbeam except she was on my lap and lolling around all limp and sleepy. No wailing, I enjoyed it.
Yay! I thought. Chris gets off at 10. Well, around 10:20 he comes in and tells me that Berry (who went to work today) took a huge dump in the back of the patrol car (Berry is now grounded for a couple of days, at least) and it stunk so bad that both Chris and his rider were gagging and heaving. The situation was so desperate that Chris actually floored it and beat the train across the tracks in his rush to get home and hose out the backseat. Even after he had hosed out the dog cage, it Still Reeked. Berry is known for his intestinal problems. Chris came in still breathing deep through his nose, told me that his rider had suddenly remember other things he had to do, and grabbed the Febreeze air freshener and will probably empty the entire bottle in the car. This is one of those times you think, "better him than me!" and then feel bad for thinking it because you know that as soon as you start getting smug, one of the kids will take a dump on the floor and you'll be left to clean it up alone. But okay, I know I'm starting to get punchy. Thanks to everyone who have been praying for the kids (and me). We are on the mend! We have to be. I can't think anything else. Zzzz.
*This is where I put the disclaimer that not much grosses me out, so I will and do talk freely about various bodily functions and patterns. Apologies to the faint of heart.
4:03 in the wee smas
For those of you who don't know what that is, think of that song from "Sleepless in Seattle": In the wee small hours of the morning, when the whole wide world is fast asleep..."Tonight's saga is poor Erin with a horrid cold, chest congestion and colic (again!), crying to break everyone's hearts, sweaty, coughing, and falling asleep midcry in weird positions only to jerk with another pain and cry some more. Really, we need some help here!
Don't worry, it's coming. I often, Very Often wonder, how parents can function at all without a belief in the saving, reassuring and comforting presence of God. There's no way I could do this alone, it's just too heartwrenching. When Chris and I are sitting there in the middle of the night and Erin won't stop crying (thank you that Ian has grown out of it), staring at each other in desperation, ready and willing to do ANYthing to get it to stop, sheeeesh. But it's just one of those things you have to get through.
And might I reiterate, we LOVE our hot water bottle, and aside from the swing, it is the most wonderful purchase we have ever made. Ian would protest this point, but he is flailing away in his own little bed, since even in sleep he finds it impossible to be still. I'm just really hoping that he won't act out his dreams and pee on the floor, thinking of an imaginary drain.
My Dad used to do that. Once he was dreaming that he was fishing and hocked a loogie onto the floor somewhere. Then another time, he was dreaming of something else and hocked another one into the empty fireplace. But this time, my friends and I were sitting around the living room and poor Josh almost got nailed in the side of the head with Wild Flying Loogie because he chose to sit by the fireplace. Josh has still not recovered from this incident. Especially when Dad woke up, laughed and went back to sleep. And they wondered why none of my friends wanted to visit? That story made it around campus fast! :)
Between Chris's childhood history of sleepwalking and genetic dream theater, we're hoping that Ian stays put. But from the banging in his room of his knees against the wall and bedrails, that's not happening precisely. Plans are in the works for a twin bed for Ian some time after we move. Ian already has his big boy sheets picked out.
Poor Chris had a rough day today, the kind of day where you're so worn out, but your mind just needs to do something. So in between crying jags, he got to play his funny little computer games (he likes the ones where you run a restaurant and have to do all the jobs or the ones where you're the farmer and you have to plant, water, fertilize, bug spray, etc, harvest and sell the crops and then buy more seed to plant and hopefully save enough money to buy chickens. Like I said, funny games).
He got called out around 11 ish but came back to crying Erin, where the computer time started up. He took her for a couple of car rides but brought her back to nurse. This is where I am now thinking that it's not colic. Not like last time. Because she ate just fine, she just had a really upset stomach. Hm.
Now I will make a confession and admit another stupid mistake. I tried the Yobaby organic yogurt for her today, hoping to get her little system on track. It's supposed to be safe for babies 6 months and older (and toddlers) so I gave her a couple of spoonfuls. She doesn't usually like cold foods or drinks or anything, so she didn't like it. Then I tasted it and it was NASTY! I gave some to Chris to try (to spread the nasty around some. he he) and he spewed it out and then had to have something to cover up the taste (some Real yogurt: Yoplait peach). Erin had her supper and things were fine. Well, Fie upon you, yobaby! Because really, that's all I can think of that would cause this....and there's no better time for self-recrimination than in the wee smas.
Hm. Just think, Ian will most likely be up in 2 1/2 hours. Doodle doo de doo.
I was wondering earlier, after the initial fuzzy exhaustion passed, what weird things I would think about, because it is a universally known fact that people who stay up too long think weird things. Like how they shoved a girl in the lunch line in 4th grade and never apologized, things like that. Or I am alone in this assumption and now look like an idiot. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time.
Or the last. Because I am going to have to leave this post to get Ian a drink because he is coughing his Croupy cough and that usually requires liquid to go back to sleep. So happy morning to you and remember me when I'm grumpy later. :)
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Can you be ready in an hour??
That is today's magic question. This is the phone call Chris and I got from the realtor when we were getting ready for the day this morning. She had forgotten to call us yesterday and apologized. But her office of agents does a walk-through of all new listings every two weeks and she wanted to know if we could pull it together (she put it a little more nicely, I'm sure) in an hour. Chris's eyes got huge and he relayed the question to me. I nodded frantically, water from my wet hair spattering the bathroom counter and mirror. We then started our fast-forward mode, straightening and hiding and wiping down. I hid the dirty dishes, but we did end up (Chris did, anyway) having to vacuum. Chris started work an hour later than he had planned, but we were safe (whew!) and everyone was out of the house. On a side note, the worst thing about selling the house (besides having to keep it clean...that's a big one) is having to disappear every time the real estate agent sneezes in our general direction. Granted, this is only the second time, but if they ever need to come at a time when the library is closed, "Woe to me!"
On a happier note, we went to Walmart for a couple of things, since we got a bunnnnnncha stuff from Sam's (like gwee wees). A great thing, since both kids are cranky and have yucky sounding coughs that result in germaphobes and the elderly running away from us like we carry the bubonic plague (which was caused by fleas and rats, Hello!). Finally got a mesh bag thing for Erin to chew on. If you are new to this arena, it is a little mesh bag with a handle that locks things inside the bag. You can put in ice cubes, apple pieces, carrot pieces, fresh fruits and stuff and your baby can chew on the mesh bag and not get any little pieces in her mouth and choke. These things are GREAT! Ian loved his (until we clogged the mesh with banana, I would not recommend these for bananas) and Erin did too. She ate 2 pieces of ice in hers about 2 hours ago until she fell asleep face first in it (I guess it wasn't cold anymore). Her cough syrup kinda knocks her out. I also got some of that 'soothing vapors' baby wash that's supposed to be bubbly Vicks. You put it in the bathtub and menthol and eucalyptus will clear your baby's clogged nostrils or something. It helped Ian some (Erin was still sleeping) though he said that the bubbles tasted funny. That's what you get for eating bubbles.
We had a recon mission in the dirtpile today for any and all missing vehicles. About 48 filthy Hot Wheels were brought in for maintenance and thoroughly detailed in the kitchen sink by PFC Goforth with a lot of Palmolive to add extra shine. The cleaning of 2 pounds of dirt out of the sink was commenced by the mess hall captain (me) as well as the wet tracks the vehicles left on the mess hall floor as they exited. Some were inspected and still found to be dirty, and were given demerits, resulting in their subsequent rewash in the bathtub by PFC Goforth, who punished them with 'Soothing Vapors'.
The only other noteworthy thing today happened in the Walmart bathroom (which is very nice; kudos to the remodeling guru) while we were having a pit stop. Erin was hungry, I had to pee and Ian was getting whiny, when we U-turned next to the olive oil and headed for the bathroom, me walking funny due to prolonged waiting and two howling kids in my cart (just one cart today; a light trip). We immediately got the Handicapped/Family stall and found the neatest thing. A little seat attached to the wall with a safety strap to put your baby/toddler in so you can pee without holding their squirming selves on your lap! It looked like those little fold down seats that flight attendants use, but Erin fit very nicely in it, though she looked puzzled as to why she had to watch me pee from 10 feet away. She usually gets a much closer view (poor thing). Ian, who was encouraged to pee into the big toilet, immediately declined with big eyes (darn you, noisy auto-flush!) but was very enthusiastic about peeing into the drain on the floor. I sat by the wall, trying to feed Erin, who had only eaten about half of a baby food container while we were walking. And if anyone has ever tried to feed a baby some food while shopping knows that it will never be attempted more than once. Our last bite was on the TV aisle, where Erin was distracted, resulting in a spoonful of apricots in her ear. So I am sitting on the [clean] floor, feeding Erin while Ian is trying to be sneaky and attempt to pee into the drain without me noticing. Ha ha. Ian is still at the stage where he thinks I can't tell what he's doing if his back is turned. Well, this turns into a family discussion about drains. People come and go in the other stalls and you can hear a dime drop in between flushes. I'm sure there are a few people who will talk about our episode over supper tonight. But eventually, Erin finishes, Ian gets his Pullup changed and no drains are whizzed in. Barely. I guess that's how those floor urinals were invented.
Potty training is going right along. Our sticker chart on the wall is filling up. Maybe not as good as that first week, but we are being consistent and Ian is getting used to it. Though I wish he would figure out that stand up peeing is not the best method for his potty seat. The hole in the potty seat is a lot smaller than the one that fits on the big toilet. And let's just add that his aim is often off. Yeah.
On a happier note, we went to Walmart for a couple of things, since we got a bunnnnnncha stuff from Sam's (like gwee wees). A great thing, since both kids are cranky and have yucky sounding coughs that result in germaphobes and the elderly running away from us like we carry the bubonic plague (which was caused by fleas and rats, Hello!). Finally got a mesh bag thing for Erin to chew on. If you are new to this arena, it is a little mesh bag with a handle that locks things inside the bag. You can put in ice cubes, apple pieces, carrot pieces, fresh fruits and stuff and your baby can chew on the mesh bag and not get any little pieces in her mouth and choke. These things are GREAT! Ian loved his (until we clogged the mesh with banana, I would not recommend these for bananas) and Erin did too. She ate 2 pieces of ice in hers about 2 hours ago until she fell asleep face first in it (I guess it wasn't cold anymore). Her cough syrup kinda knocks her out. I also got some of that 'soothing vapors' baby wash that's supposed to be bubbly Vicks. You put it in the bathtub and menthol and eucalyptus will clear your baby's clogged nostrils or something. It helped Ian some (Erin was still sleeping) though he said that the bubbles tasted funny. That's what you get for eating bubbles.We had a recon mission in the dirtpile today for any and all missing vehicles. About 48 filthy Hot Wheels were brought in for maintenance and thoroughly detailed in the kitchen sink by PFC Goforth with a lot of Palmolive to add extra shine. The cleaning of 2 pounds of dirt out of the sink was commenced by the mess hall captain (me) as well as the wet tracks the vehicles left on the mess hall floor as they exited. Some were inspected and still found to be dirty, and were given demerits, resulting in their subsequent rewash in the bathtub by PFC Goforth, who punished them with 'Soothing Vapors'.
The only other noteworthy thing today happened in the Walmart bathroom (which is very nice; kudos to the remodeling guru) while we were having a pit stop. Erin was hungry, I had to pee and Ian was getting whiny, when we U-turned next to the olive oil and headed for the bathroom, me walking funny due to prolonged waiting and two howling kids in my cart (just one cart today; a light trip). We immediately got the Handicapped/Family stall and found the neatest thing. A little seat attached to the wall with a safety strap to put your baby/toddler in so you can pee without holding their squirming selves on your lap! It looked like those little fold down seats that flight attendants use, but Erin fit very nicely in it, though she looked puzzled as to why she had to watch me pee from 10 feet away. She usually gets a much closer view (poor thing). Ian, who was encouraged to pee into the big toilet, immediately declined with big eyes (darn you, noisy auto-flush!) but was very enthusiastic about peeing into the drain on the floor. I sat by the wall, trying to feed Erin, who had only eaten about half of a baby food container while we were walking. And if anyone has ever tried to feed a baby some food while shopping knows that it will never be attempted more than once. Our last bite was on the TV aisle, where Erin was distracted, resulting in a spoonful of apricots in her ear. So I am sitting on the [clean] floor, feeding Erin while Ian is trying to be sneaky and attempt to pee into the drain without me noticing. Ha ha. Ian is still at the stage where he thinks I can't tell what he's doing if his back is turned. Well, this turns into a family discussion about drains. People come and go in the other stalls and you can hear a dime drop in between flushes. I'm sure there are a few people who will talk about our episode over supper tonight. But eventually, Erin finishes, Ian gets his Pullup changed and no drains are whizzed in. Barely. I guess that's how those floor urinals were invented.Potty training is going right along. Our sticker chart on the wall is filling up. Maybe not as good as that first week, but we are being consistent and Ian is getting used to it. Though I wish he would figure out that stand up peeing is not the best method for his potty seat. The hole in the potty seat is a lot smaller than the one that fits on the big toilet. And let's just add that his aim is often off. Yeah.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Cantawopes and Gwee Wees
Kids say the darnedest things. Most of the time they quote the parents. Case in point: Ian playing video games. "Oh, MAN!" "COME on!" "Oh no! Oh no!" The last one is from me. I am a very noisy video game player, especially since the invention of the vibrating remotes that go off every time your character dies, hits something or runs off the road (and I am a very bad video game driver). It's been a pretty quiet weekend so far. Niiiiiice. The best part about our weekend, starting on Friday (hey, the kids aren't in school yet, every day is Friday here) was the produce that we found at the grocery store! One of the most marked differences between Oklahoma and Florida is the difference in produce. In Florida, certain things are found year round. In OK, they are found every once in a while for 3 to 4X the price. But when spring is most fervently wished for (and not to be found) fresh produce shows up from wherever it's warm (FL, CA, TX?) So finally, for the first time in months, we get affordable Cantaloupe and Kiwi, see title for clarification. Avocados are a different story. They were $1.50 apiece at Superbowl time, I'm supposing, to make everyone buy the guacamole dip already made. But since we just eat the avocados out of the shell, we like them fresh. Every once in a while we buy a whole bagful for 88 cents apiece. That's when to get them. Not for $1.50 to $2 apiece, at least not for the little ones.
For those of you who do not go produce shopping or who are wondering what avocados are, go get you one and try it with a little salt. Mmmmm.
Anyway, it is finally the time of year when recognizable fruits and vegetables are starting to fill up the shelves again at affordable prices. Yippeeeeee! Ian is also thrilled at this, since we are really starting to get tired of the same old apples and bananas routine and need something to shake it up a bit. How is it that we can get mangoes here for a buck apiece and not get decent oranges or avocados??? Why is this?! Or pineapple!
I'll just nip that outrage in the bud and move on to my wonderful grandparents who have provided me with a Sam's card. We love them to little bitty pieces, especially later this afternoon, when we will emerge triumphant with enough 'cantawopes and gwee wees' to sink a ship, or at least a green Jeep. And hopefully an avocado or four. And maybe strawberries that aren't $5 a pound? We'll see.
But last night, when Ian was rolling around in his bed, stubbornly insisting that he wasn't tired and that he couldn't sleep (he really does say that, isn't that the darnedest thing?), I was trying to coax him under the covers (instead of leaping about on top of them) to lie down. After a lot of protesting, I started telling him that "we have a big day tomorrow and you need your rest," which usually works, or at least distracts him from his fussing that he isn't sleepy. I told him we would be going to Sam's. Since we don't go that often, he had no idea what it was. I tried to think of things there that would interest him (since he doesn't really get what free samples are, or cheap cafe or bulk toilet paper). Finally I hit up on the produce section, where they usually have good cheap produce, and you get a bunch of it. "Maybe they'll have cantaloupe," I told him in a hopeful wheedly voice. Surely this would make him lie down and contemplate fruit long enough to fall asleep. Wrong. "And gwee wees! Lots and lots of gwee wees!" he shouted back gleefully, bouncing up and down. "Yes, but you have to lie down and go night-nights," I told him, r
ealizing I should have picked another subject. "Awnacadas?" Ian asked. "We'll look for avocados," I promised. "YUM! Tasty!" was what I got back, but at least he was lying down. Yep, maybe this was going to work out after all. I kissed him and started to tiptoe to the door. "Mommy! Gwee wees are dewishus!" I snickered a little, wondering where he picked up "delicious" and assured him they were and that we would look for some good ones. I was finally able to leave the room and after some more kicking, he went to sleep. Whew!
ealizing I should have picked another subject. "Awnacadas?" Ian asked. "We'll look for avocados," I promised. "YUM! Tasty!" was what I got back, but at least he was lying down. Yep, maybe this was going to work out after all. I kissed him and started to tiptoe to the door. "Mommy! Gwee wees are dewishus!" I snickered a little, wondering where he picked up "delicious" and assured him they were and that we would look for some good ones. I was finally able to leave the room and after some more kicking, he went to sleep. Whew!Then it was Erin's turn for attention since she has been running a fever for a couple of days, but with no other symptoms other than a cough every now and then and she's just now starting to get a slightly stuffy nose. But other than not eating very much and having some gas (probably from the Tylenol) she seems okaaay. It's just hard to get extra sleep with Ian around, as we can allll attest to.
Back to the regularly scheduled program. Ian is reminding me that he is desperately in need of fruit and "we going to Sam's today?" I'll let you know if we find any 'cantawopes and gwee wees.'
Oh, and happy 7 months, Erin! So hard to believe that she's 7 months old already!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Locked Out!
Just in case our lives weren't dramatic enough, I wasn't paying attention today and locked myself out of the house. [shakes head] I know, what was I thinking?? To rewind a bit, I was trying to clean (emphasis on 'trying') and Ian was outside playing. I put Erin on the floor so she could sit and play and chew on all her toys and went out to check on Ian because it was quiet and he wasn't on the dirtpile. I go out and he is dipping his little Hot Wheels in the little puddle leftover from the overflow of our sewage line. If it gets backed up (don't worry, it was overflow from the laundry this time, but still enough to make me yack) then the extra water makes a little puddle and eventually soaks down. Please disregard and immediately forget all of the previous statements if you are interested in buying the house.
I grabbed Ian by the clean part of his arm and marched him directly into the house to spray him with Clorox and scrub him within an inch of his unsuspecting life, all the time informing him of the nature of the puddle in which he was playing. He immediately became loudly concerned about the state of his toys, which were still outside in or near the 'poopy water.'
So we got his shoes back on and went outside for a toxic rescue mission. Erin was relocated to the Exer-Saucer. This is the stupid part. I shut the door. Our sliding glass door that leads to the backyard has an automatic lock. We have been very careful to never shut it all way if we are on the outside of it. I didn't want a draft to get inside or something and I shut it all the way. I also remember locking the front door this morning after Chris went to work. I was S-T-U-C-K.
After some door and window pushing and pulling, I hopped the fence, leaving Ian inside the yard looking puzzled, yet intrigued at the sight of Mommy clambering out, and went to our neighbor's house. Our neighbor is a little old lady that is annoying, but sweet, and is thankfully almost always home. She listened to my frantic babbling with minimal interruptions about afghans and squirrels and let me use her phone. "I don't have my keys!" Chris reminded me. "I left them at home for you. Well, great." (My key is currently in the lockbox left by the real estate agent so we are currently splitting one housekey.) Chris was still in town and agreed to rush over to liberate Erin (or to let my jacketless hide in, however you choose to look at it). Erin was minimally fussy at this point, since it is so rarely quiet in our house. I went back home, after being informed by the neighbor that I had left Ian inside the fence, and keep trying windows. Blast the screwed in screens and double windows! They are absolutely no good for a discreet break-in! If you are interested in buying our house, please regard and ponder the last statement.
By this time, Chris had arrived in his unit with a rider, thankfully a friend who kept the smirking down to a minimum. Then again, he may have been looking at my haircut, which hasn't been cooperating since the moment I left the salon. There is one window opened that Chris had put an extension cord through for the shed. He ripped the screen and summoned the excited little squirt who would love to have this kind of adventure every day. We stuffed Ian through the window and helped him through the laundry shelf that he dumped over with his feet as I crammed him in and he went to the sliding glass door. It was too difficult for him to open from the inside. Chris shouted for him to go to the front door and he and the rider went around to the kitchen door. Ian went to the front door and shouted. From what I could see through the condensation of the glass door, Erin looked relieved at the noise and began chewing on a toy again. Chris banged at the kitchen door for a bit longer until Ian figure out that he meant the Other Front door and unlocked it for them. My menfolk saved the day! Cue triumphant music.
I hurriedly promised Chris to never shut the slider behind me again and he pealed out of the driveway, eager to collect more warrants. Well, he didn't peal out, but I'm sure he wanted to just for the fun of it.
Ian told me that he was tired of playing outside and got a sucker for being such a good boy (and for being small enough to fit through the window gap). Lucky for him, I guess, because it took the focus off of him playing in the toxic water puddle. I think I grossed him out enough to stay away from it. And it's been rainy for a few days, so the entire yard is muddy and puddly, so don't everyone think that we have a huge yuck of a rancid puddle over half our yard. It's a little bitty hole, just right for dipping your Hot Wheels into (sorry, I have to stop and gag a little, just for form).
Anyway, lesson learned! ALWAYS check behind you before you mindlessly shut a door! You may have to break into your own house!
I grabbed Ian by the clean part of his arm and marched him directly into the house to spray him with Clorox and scrub him within an inch of his unsuspecting life, all the time informing him of the nature of the puddle in which he was playing. He immediately became loudly concerned about the state of his toys, which were still outside in or near the 'poopy water.'
So we got his shoes back on and went outside for a toxic rescue mission. Erin was relocated to the Exer-Saucer. This is the stupid part. I shut the door. Our sliding glass door that leads to the backyard has an automatic lock. We have been very careful to never shut it all way if we are on the outside of it. I didn't want a draft to get inside or something and I shut it all the way. I also remember locking the front door this morning after Chris went to work. I was S-T-U-C-K.
After some door and window pushing and pulling, I hopped the fence, leaving Ian inside the yard looking puzzled, yet intrigued at the sight of Mommy clambering out, and went to our neighbor's house. Our neighbor is a little old lady that is annoying, but sweet, and is thankfully almost always home. She listened to my frantic babbling with minimal interruptions about afghans and squirrels and let me use her phone. "I don't have my keys!" Chris reminded me. "I left them at home for you. Well, great." (My key is currently in the lockbox left by the real estate agent so we are currently splitting one housekey.) Chris was still in town and agreed to rush over to liberate Erin (or to let my jacketless hide in, however you choose to look at it). Erin was minimally fussy at this point, since it is so rarely quiet in our house. I went back home, after being informed by the neighbor that I had left Ian inside the fence, and keep trying windows. Blast the screwed in screens and double windows! They are absolutely no good for a discreet break-in! If you are interested in buying our house, please regard and ponder the last statement.
By this time, Chris had arrived in his unit with a rider, thankfully a friend who kept the smirking down to a minimum. Then again, he may have been looking at my haircut, which hasn't been cooperating since the moment I left the salon. There is one window opened that Chris had put an extension cord through for the shed. He ripped the screen and summoned the excited little squirt who would love to have this kind of adventure every day. We stuffed Ian through the window and helped him through the laundry shelf that he dumped over with his feet as I crammed him in and he went to the sliding glass door. It was too difficult for him to open from the inside. Chris shouted for him to go to the front door and he and the rider went around to the kitchen door. Ian went to the front door and shouted. From what I could see through the condensation of the glass door, Erin looked relieved at the noise and began chewing on a toy again. Chris banged at the kitchen door for a bit longer until Ian figure out that he meant the Other Front door and unlocked it for them. My menfolk saved the day! Cue triumphant music.
I hurriedly promised Chris to never shut the slider behind me again and he pealed out of the driveway, eager to collect more warrants. Well, he didn't peal out, but I'm sure he wanted to just for the fun of it.
Ian told me that he was tired of playing outside and got a sucker for being such a good boy (and for being small enough to fit through the window gap). Lucky for him, I guess, because it took the focus off of him playing in the toxic water puddle. I think I grossed him out enough to stay away from it. And it's been rainy for a few days, so the entire yard is muddy and puddly, so don't everyone think that we have a huge yuck of a rancid puddle over half our yard. It's a little bitty hole, just right for dipping your Hot Wheels into (sorry, I have to stop and gag a little, just for form).
Anyway, lesson learned! ALWAYS check behind you before you mindlessly shut a door! You may have to break into your own house!
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