Lent

What's with Lent?

You're supposed to sacrifice because Jesus got tortured, nailed to a cross and suffered for days.

Yeah, that's equivalent to you giving up a cheeseburger once a week. Same thing.

And why do kids get to make out like bandits during this whole thing?

"Um, kids? In order to practice our religion and teach you the ways of the Lord, we have to FORCE you to eat pizza once a week for a month. Sorry 'bout that. Rules are rules!"

Don't get me wrong, I'm Catholic. But I belong to a special branch of the Catholic Church called "C&E Catholics"...which stands for Christmas and Easter...which are the times I go to mass. Basically I observe the holidays where you get something in return. No one has ever given me anything for All Saints Day.

Then there is the question of what to give up for Lent. I already go to the gym, I don't smoke, we don't go out to eat a lot....

I would give up coffee, chocolate or alcohol...but then I'd also have to give up all human contact cause I'd be f'ing miserable to be around.

I tried to give up Carter, but it's supposed to be something that would be a hardship to go without. So there goes that.

I'm going to hell. But we already knew that.

Food Fight

Wouldn't it be nice and tidy if you could just say to a baby "This is how we eat. With a utensil, not with our hands. You don't need to throw the food in order for it to be delicious. You don't really even need to rub it all over your cheeks before you get it in your mouth. You can just eat...oh...and then here's a wet nap. Clean yourself up."

And the kid would take it all in and then apply his new knowledge during meals. The world, and my kitchen especially, would be a better place to live!

I don't really do mess all that well, which is why I sometimes avoid feeding my kids certain foods. My fear of the unclean became a nightmare around the time the doctor insisted I start to let Carter feed himself.

Are you kidding me?

In his chunky little hand a spoon will become a weapon of mass destruction. He insited that if I didn't let him try then I would end up having to spoon feed my 18 year old some day. And did I want that?

Um, can I think I about it for a minute? I need to make a list of pros and cons...

The first time I let him self-feed I literally sat next to him with a roll of paper towels. I wiped his mouth, and then his hands when he stuck those in there, in between bites. It was awful and I hated it.

I eventually lightened up and he got better at it...plus I started giving him a spoon for each hand so he didn't have a spare hand to stick in the yogurt bowl. Pretty genius if you ask me.

Now my biggest food issue with him involves peanut butter. I hate it. He loves it. Naturally he would gravitate towards foods that annoy me, it is Carter after all.

The sandwich itself isn't the problem..its the fact that he MUST open up the bread and actually TOUCH the peanut butter inside. Guess how I feel about that?

He then leaves his gross little fingerprints everywhere. I found out early that the baby didn't have a nut allergy. I knew this because he had no reaction the day I found a peanut butter handprint across his face...

And then there's the hair. What is it about certain foods that makes kids want to rub it on their head? Does anyone else's kid do this? If not, don't tell me. Let me enjoy the illusion that my children are normal for a little while longer.

After going through the self-feeding stage with Carter, I had a few tricks up my sleeve for Grant.

The first time Grant had watermelon I stripped him down to his diaper, placed him in his Bumbo chair and put that chair right into the sink. He ate his gross, drippy fruit with the juice running everywhere and he loved it. Then when he was done, I simply took out the sprayer attached to the sink and hosed him down. It was like a mini car wash.

If Carter could still fit in the sink that would solve a lot of my problems.

Is it spring yet?

This winter has been unbearable.

It's unnatural to live without sunlight or warmth for this long. I would go indoor tanning but I don't want skin cancer. Well, actually, I supposed worrying about skin cancer might be better than worrying about being arrested because I attacked the cheerful cashier at Starbucks who told me to have a nice day. (Cause what the hell is she so chipper for anyway? She must be some sort of alien life form.)

I know that everyone feels this way. Everyone is miserable and has been stuck inside for too long. But just think, it could be worse. You could have been stuck inside with Carter. Consider yourselves lucky.

Every normal kid gets cabin fever if they are in one place for too long. They tend to go stir crazy. But Carter doesn't get stir crazy...he gets creative.

For example, one morning I noticed that the upstairs toilet wasn't flushing correctly. I mentioned this to my husband and watched his face grow concerned. Turns out Carter had just walked up to him and exclaimed "Daddy, we don't flush Eeyore down the potty."

We still haven't found Eeyore...

He has exhausted every normal use for his toys and is now forced to find unconventional ways play with them.  It's kind of resourceful actually.  He invented a game where he puts plastic food in his mouth and sees how far he can spit them across the room.  One day he set up a bucket for himself as a target.  I guess he needed more of a challenge. 

He's also become a climber.

He tears down the gate and climbs the stairs...where he immediately goes to work finding an activity that he thinks will annoy me. Some days he'll throw everything we own into his brother's crib. Toys, clothes, games, chairs (yes I said chairs)...really, whatever he can get his mitts on. Grant doesn't have to be in there in order to make this game fun, but if that's the case then it's an added bonus.

One day he climbed into the excersaucer and couldn't get out. He was crying, telling me that he was stuck and asking me to help him. So I did. Oh, but not before I left him in there for a few minutes as a lesson. And I videotaped it...and posted it on facebook...

Some day we'll all laugh about this...at our therapist's office.

To pass the time, we've been reading a lot of books. We have one called "No David!" which is basically a story about all the fresh things this little boy does. Complete with pictures.  I absolutely hate this book.

It probably gives most kids a sense of what is considered bad behavior. But I think it just gives Carter ideas..."Rip off all my clothes and go running around outside? How could I have never thought of that before! Number one on my 'To Do' list...."

I'm going to sacrifice the first person I hear complain about the heat this summer.

Skiing

This past weekend we went skiing. We went with a few other families and between us we had seven kids, including three two year olds. I don't know what made us think this would be a good idea.

In preparation for the day, I tried to psych Carter up by telling him how much fun he was going to have!  He walked around that whole week telling everyone "We going skiing on Saturday!" It was so cute that a crucial fact totally escaped my attention...um...he had NO IDEA what skiing was.

So in an effort to educate him on what he would actually be doing, I looked up videos of people skiing. I just typed 'skiing' into YouTube and clicked on the first video that came up.

Carter and I watched as a man made his way down a mountain. He looked interested and I was thinking what a smart mom I was to have thought of this!

Then all of a sudden the man hits some sort of bump, goes flying up in the air, crashes to the ground and slides the rest of the way down on his ass surrounded by his equipment. He's screaming and cursing the entire time.

Carter turned around and said "Mama...I DON'T want to go skiing."

Oh nice, nice job Danielle.

This was kind of like the time when I saw flashing lights outside our house and took Carter out to see the police car...only to find out it was animal control picking up road kill. And I gave my son a front row seat. Now I had probably scarred him for life as far as skiing was concerned.

I eventually found a video of kids skiing and having fun and got him back on board.

On the day of the trip the back of our car looked like we were going away for twelve weeks...when in fact it was going to be more like 6 hours. The jackets alone took up half the room. Plus, I had to pack like five extra outfits because Carter has this thing about his clothes being wet. So yeah, skiing is probably the thing to do with a child like that, right?

Unloading at the mountain took four people three trips each. We had already killed like half an hour and Carter hadn't even SEEN a pair of skis yet.

Between figuring out what to do with Grant, putting the kid's clothes on, getting rentals, getting ourselves dressed and trying to walk with two year olds wearing ski boots...I'd say we were at the mountain for almost two hours before any actual skiing occurred.

After all that, the kids went down this little hill for about 20 minutes before they decided they had had enough. I was standing in line for the chair lift when I heard a familiar screech echoing across the slopes.

And sure enough, there was my son screaming and laying in a pile at the bottom of the hill. He had managed to kick off not only his skis, but also one of his boots. At which point he had a meltdown because his sock was wet. God help us.

Poor Mike was trying to control Carter while wearing his own skis. It looked pretty difficult.

The man behind us in line actually said "That poor kid! That's no way to teach a lesson." I really wanted to turn around and say "Hey! Then you go teach him if you can do it so much better!" But instead I just agreed with him and got on the chairlift...

Afterwards, I tried to explain to Mike how I would have gone to help him but I was stuck in line.

He said "Yeah, Danielle, that rope that was holding you in would have been pretty tough to break through..."

I'm so glad he sees things my way.

To Train or Not to Train

I don't want to.

I really, really don't want to potty train Carter. It's not that I mind him using the toilet...I'm not trying to keep him little or anything...it's that I don't want to have to be the one to go through the process with him.

I just can't figure out how to sell this idea.

So, imagine you're two and you're playing with some awesome, totally cool toy. And instead of doing your stuff right there and continuing on your merry way, you now have to put down the big shiny fire truck and go to the potty. In reality, I often hold it as long as I can because I'm in the middle of something and don't want to be bothered. It's such a hassle! So maybe I'm not the best role model in this situation.

The problem is that diapers are too absorbent. They spend all this time making new and improved diapers which leads to kids being able to comfortably sit in their own urine for much longer. What I really need is the least absorbent diaper ever. I want him to suffer as he sits there so he has some incentive to want to pee elsewhere.

This week we had to switch Carter over to size 6 diapers. He's a big kid for his age so it makes sense. My worry, however, is this: I've never seen a size 7 diaper.

That's apparently the deadline for potty training. The manufacturers have sent us a message..."If your child is still in diapers at 40 lbs then you have failed as a parent and we no longer want your business. Thank you."

So I guess I'll be changing Carter's adult diapers pretty soon.

I like it when I read expert quotes saying things like "Don't feel guilty bribing your children when it comes to potty training." HA! This is no comfort to me. I don't feel guilty bribing my children when it comes to pretty much anything.

We use M&M's as bait, but even those don't do the trick. One day he caught me sneaking a few...

"Mama, did you use the potty?" Yes, I replied, I had in fact used the potty. "Good job, Mama! You're a big girl!"

I asked him if he wanted to be a big boy and get M&M's too!

"No, I do not."

Well, that settles that.

The other method I've read about is the so-called "Cold Turkey" method. This is just what it sounds like. You take them away all together, accidents be damned.

Have you ever seen, say, a smoker kick the habit in this way? They aren't pleasant to be around. Carter is already not pleasant to be around a lot of the time...

Since I'm avoiding it at all costs I look for every excuse to delay the process. I recently read an article that said something about not starting until after 27 months because that's the optimal age, etc. etc. etc. I excitedly shared this news with my husband! We have more time!

Then Mike pointed out the fact that Carter is well past 27 months old.

Oh yeah.

So two things I learned:

1. I have less time than I thought and 2. I don't know how old my own kid is.

Bummer on both counts.


To be continued....
　
　

The Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth

When I hear Grant scream I usually assume it's because of something Carter did. I'm right 95% of the time. But there's always the other 5%.

Obviously I want to punish Carter when he does something to his brother. The problem, however, is that I don't always witness the incident. And occasionally Grant is just having a temper tantrum and screaming through no fault of Carter. So how can I tell the difference?

Easy. I just ask Carter.

"Carter, why is Grant crying?"

"Did I push him?"....and there we have it (sometimes he answers questions in the form of a question. I have to stop letting him watch Jeopardy.)

So, yeah, he totally confesses to whatever he did. All the time! I don't think it occurs to him to lie. Amazing, right? The doctor keeps telling me how smart he is, but this may prove him wrong.

As a mother, I really like this honest streak in him.

However, I have a little sister. And I want to tell him that he's giving all older siblings a bad name when he can't even cover up a little shove. Also, as an attorney, I feel obligated to point out the obvious. Hello! You're mother didn't SEE what happened. And your brother CAN'T TALK! She can't prove anything. Deny, deny, deny!

This little habit of his is useful in many ways. It lets me know when I should come running and when I can continue doing what I'm doing.

The other day I was in the shower and heard a loud bang. So I yelled to Carter and asked him what it was. "A firetruck, Mama", was the response. Nice. That can wait.

When he goes in time out he always knows just what he is in there for, and he'll tell you in detail.

"Why are you in time out?"

"Because I climbed the chair and threw a dump truck." Oh really? I missed the whole chair climbing thing, I just saw the dump truck go flying. OK then, good to know.

This morning he threw a fake hot dog across the room and it hit Grant. After his time out (which I still say does nothing, by the way) I asked him what he was in there for.

"Because I throw a hot dog at Mama."

"No. Who did you throw the hot dog at?"

"I throw a hot dog at Mama."

At this point I realize...OH MY GOD...he meant to hit ME! And he's TELLING me this! What a little shit! His real crime is just bad aim.

I hope he doesn't grow out of this soon, it's a very useful parenting tool.

The Godfather

I'm fairly certain that Carter is the head of his own Stuffed Animal Mafia. He runs it out of his room, his bed is where he conducts his business. Don't cross him, cause when you're out, you're out.

He started his gang with just a few guys. He called them "The Boys". I'm not joking. At first there was Tigger, Wags, and a few other no name creatures that took up some space at the end of the bed.

When he was tired he'd tell me "Wanna go see The Boys". And when we got up there he'd crawl in and gather them all up saying "C'mere Boys". He wanted to keep them close...probably to keep an eye on them at all times. This kid does NOT mess around.

I would picture him up there going "Yo...yo Tigger. You my BOY Tigger! If Piglet or anyone starts messing wit you, I'll take care of it...I got yo back, man!"

But soon his bedroom crew turned more mobster than gang banger.

As he grew in power, he added more members to his "family". Tigger, Little Tigger, Big Wags, Little Wags, Blue Puppy, Frankie the Fish, Tommy the Thumb, Mickey Blue Eyes....OK, maybe not those last few, but seriously, if he starts naming his stuffed animals like that we got a problem...

Every once in a while someone will get kicked out...you gotta keep everyone on their toes to keep them loyal, right?

This stuffed penguin from a trip to the Aquarium used to have a spot at the foot of the crib. One day I found that guy in the toy box downstairs. Not sure what he did, but it wasn't good.

It's crazy, but now I get sad when I see that one of the original members has gotten the boot.

"Big Wags" has been up there forever. But the other night when I went to put him in the bed Carter said "No, Mama. No Big Wags." So I had to put him on the floor...I almost cried.

Mike and I actually had a conversation about what "Big Wags" could possibly have done to deserve this treatment. Was he seen fraternizing with the downstairs toys? Did he mess up that hit on Grant's Brown Puppy? If Carter starts making them kiss his Bink before they can get into the bed then I'll be really concerned.

We still don't know what the criteria is for maintaining your place in the group. But I'll tell ya this, if you manage to piss off Don Carter Michael...you'll be sleeping with the dust bunnies for sure!