Today at playgroup we celebrated my older son's (OS) 5th birthday for the first of three planned times this year. Of course he just loved it. I'm of the mindset that part of childhood is being able to celebrate your birthday as many times as possible. In fact, if I could figure out how to extend my own birthday celebrations over multiple days, believe me I would. Parties, presents, not to mention cake. What's not to love?
I took care of baking the cake (slight pause for that shocker to sink in) and fulfilling my other playgroup hostess responsibilities. I thought the Big Giraffe was in charge of making sure there was no evidence of our golden retriever, Gandalph, in the backyard. The Big Giraffe merely thought he was in charge of removing a specific type of evidence that Gandalph leaves around the yard. A lawyer might call it...solid evidence. I'm sure you know what that evidence is.
Our friends arrived, and we went into our backyard. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a whole bunch of white fluff. I went off to start picking it up, but there was just way too much of it. While I discussed it with one friend, I decided to just hope that none of the kids and none of the other adults would notice it. The one friend in the know and I couldn't decide if Gandalph had destroyed a stuffed animal, or if the Big Giraffe had accidentally run it over with the lawn mower.
After the party ended, I went back outside to finish cleaning up and to put the cover back on the sandbox. That's when I almost had a heart attack. As I picked up the nylon cover, something rolled out of it and stopped. Did I just see an eye looking at me? Sure enough it was. Right next to the sandbox was the head of a stuffed animal gopher that had been cleanly severed from it's body. It looked like Gandalph had started to destroy it, before the Big Giraffe decapitated it. Or maybe just an alternate ending to Caddy Shack. Let's just hope that none of the kids saw it. I would not want children's dreams of parties, presents and cake to include chopped up stuffed animals.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Clear expectations avoid misunderstandings.
Seriously? I thought you were going to say it was a shredded sanitary napkin. My own childhood dog had a tendency to dig through the garbage and chew them up behind the recliner, so that our boyfriends could get a good look at them when we cuddled on the couch. Nice, eh?
I haven't been feeling too great this week. I think it was a combination of being run down and being around the wrong germs at the right time. Nothing serious...just a light cough and cold. Ironically I was just talking with Sally HP about how it's been over a year since my younger son (YS) has had a fever. Wouldn't you know he came down with one this evening. How's that for irony?
That wasn't the only surprise in our house though this week. Our dog has never been, how should I say this nicely, too bright. In fact he frequently becomes aggressive and growls at other dogs and animals on TV. The GE elephant commercial was his arch enemy. Our vet said it could be a sign of intelligence with the key words being could be rather than is. Poor Gandalph!
Gandalph rarely successfully steals food off the table, except for a notable pot roast a few years ago. When he does mount the table to snag some leftovers, he gets into trouble. He sometimes tries to intercept food between the dining room table and the kitchen. OS is now big enough to protect his plate, and he is in charge of bringing his plate to the sink or dishwasher. YS is neither tall nor sturdy enough, so the Big Giraffe or I handle the delivery. We usually clean YS up beforehand, since YS is usually covered with at least some part of his meal and I would rather not risk it being all over our couch as well.
Recently I noticed far less food on the kids plates then they claimed to have left. Alright so OS knows how to lie, but YS still remains innocent! As I was helping the kids out of the bathroom after washing up I realized what was happening: Gandalph was eating some scraps off the plates, but leaving enough left behind to avoid being caught. I'm not making this up. I told the Big Giraffe who said, "Wow! I guess he isn't an idiot after all." Until...that is...he tried that maneuver again with YS's plate while both the Big Giraffe and I were sitting right at the table. I guess you could say it was another sign of intelligence.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Intelligence is hard to measure.
Yesterday I wrote a post over at Just Cause about Doggie Diets. This reminded me of the doggie diet that Gandalf went on about 5 years ago. I came up with the idea based on my experience in childbirth class. Must have been a great class, you think? Well, I have to admit that it was not as great as I hoped it would be. I had visions finding the perfect solution for pain and making life long friends with other families about to have children. 30 years later, we would be sitting together celebrating our kids' engagement and reflecting back to the time we were pregnant with them. I struck out on both counts. Alright, there is a a good solution for pain: epidural. However, when you've been in labor for over 24 hours and aren't progressing, they still won't let you have one.
One of my few specific, remaining memories from the class is that the nurse stated that if you exercised regularly, you were more likely to have your water break on its own. One of my biggest fears was that I might not realize when I went into labor. Well, that wasn't actually my biggest fear. My biggest fear was that I might not realize that I was in labor and would end up giving birth at the mall in front of a small audience. I had seen something like that happen before. One day when I was swimming for the Y in 6th grade, a woman gave birth in the lobby. The nurse's exercise advice offered the perfect solution! Who better to accompany me than my golden retriever? Every day we went on really long walks.
Gandalf and I exercised daily together for a couple of months. Then two things happened: 1) I gave birth. 2) Within a few days of OS's birth, Gandalf ate a pacifier and needed to go to the vet. During that visit, I noticed that the vet was running a Biggest Loser contest. More focused on his inability to eat, I didn't give it much thought. I was therefore very surprised a few months later to see a posterboard with a picture of Gandalf on it in the vet's office. The picture was captioned with the words "Gandalph Elliot is the Biggest Loser." This still cracks me up. To this day, he hasn't put back any of the weight. And yes, for the record, my water did break spontaneously while I was sleeping.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: If a pregnant woman walks her dog frequently enough, she will eventually give birth. (If she does not walk her dog every day, she will probably still give birth.)
Ha! I find this extra humourous because I was the most inactive pregnant woman EVER and my water broke spontaneously when I was going to bed one night.
:-)
Gandolf was the biggest loser! Yay for Gandolf... hee hee.
When I got home Friday morning after working out, there were a lot of hysterics coming from the boys' room. I'm not quite sure what happened, but it involved my older son (OS), our golden retriever, my younger son (YS) and a beluga whale. Alright, a stuffed beluga whale. I mean, a stuffed animal beluga whale. From the amount of racket, I would have believed that a real beluga whale was involved in whatever was happening. After calming everyone down, I decided to hold off on my shower until after breakfast. By the time everyone finished breakfast, I was hearing more coherent sobs explaining how OS had taken the whale from YS and given it to the dog who ran around with it. Despite the sobs, it was time to get the boys dressed to leave for preschool. The dog did get the last laugh look...I believe he may have had a triumphant expression on his face as the wailing started up again as we walked out the door.
When YS and I returned, I jumped in the shower while YS was playing with his trucks in the bathroom. When I finished the shower, I was surprised to find YS sitting on a potty chair! That's right, there was unauthorized potty training going on in our house! I didn't even know he knew what it was. We had just never bothered to put it back in the basement after my older son (OS) had graduated to a real toilet. I'm sensing a theme here about not rushing. For the rest of the morning, he insisted on trying the potty, instead of having us go to the grocery store or on any of our other planned errands.
This experience reminded me of why I'm a big fan of waiting until a child is three to be potty-trained. At three they'll potty train in a couple of days, and their bladders are large enough that you'll never have to abandon a shopping cart of frozen foods to explore the scary bathrooms in the bowels of the grocery store while hoping that the creepy teenage sales clerk who's lurking around will go back to playing with his...iPod. Not that parents of young children don't get to enjoy the memorable grocery store bathroom experience for other reasons, such as pregnancy or when shopping after a workout in which you have drunk an entire large sports bottle of water. Potty-training is even better if you wait until children are 8 because they can do their own laundry. So maybe I'm kidding about the last part.
After a brief period of diaper wearing to pickup OS from preschool, the unauthorized potty training continued for the rest of the day, and OS and I abandoned our plans for the park. Could potty training really be this easy? Was my child a genius? Well, of course I think he is, regardless of when he gets potty trained! Visions without diapers filled my mind. These images were shattered when I heard an ear piercing shriek followed by two boys crying. I won't go into the details, but let's just say that something happened involving two boys, mardi gras beads, hanging out under a kitchen table, and a major accident. By major accident, I don't mean that someone stubbed their toe. I was surprised that the dog wasn't there, but that was because he was outside. YS has shown no further interest in potty training since then. Phew. The dog on the other hand showed a lot of interest in hanging out under the table when I let him come back inside after I cleaned up the mess.
I am back to my plan of holding off on potty training until YS turns three or hires an attorney to convince me that he was ready. I may have seen a movement, but I have not yet seen any "motions."
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Kids do things on their own schedules.
The one thing I am positive about when it comes to potty-training is that there is NO good time to do it and truly? There is no "one size fits all" method.
My boys? Started DS1 at 2 and it took him until age 4 to get FIRMLY get it. Started DS2 at 3 and it took him until age 4 to get it...
My daughter? Decided at barely age 2 to potty-train HERSELF in 1 day. And I will say that she has the strongest bladder of all of my kids. She's even been NIGHT trained for several months now!
There were quite a few times in the 4.5 years since my older son (OS) was born, that I thought that I had hit the absolute worst part of parenting- sleepless nights, temper tantrums, the 4 year old attitude. Maybe that's a tad bit of an exaggeration; playing in the toilet was by far the worst. Then last week I thought I had found something even worse that "potty play" - administering eyedrops.
Giving my older son (OS) eye drops was similar to putting the cats in their carriers.
Putting Cats in their Carriers
Administering Eye Drops to OS
Perform a "cat scan" to find the cat(s). It works best if they are sleeping.
Close any doors to the room.
With the carrier in my hand, creep up on them in a James Bond-like fashion and then pounce.
Some hissing and scratching ensues.
While trying to avoid being bitten, wrestle the cat into the carrier.
Feel exhausted while receiving dirty looks, a hiss, and a look of betrayal.
Scan for OS. It works best if he is sleeping.
Close any doors to the room.
With the eye dropper in my hand, creep up on him in a James Bond-like fashion and then pounce.
Much hissing and scratching ensues.
While trying to avoid being bitten, wrestle OS into a position where I can pry his eyes open and administer the drops.
Feel exhausted while receiving dirty looks, a hiss, and a look of betrayal.
Neither cats nor boy were interested in hearing that I really didn't want to do this. Whenever the Big Giraffe is around, it at least goes a little easier.
During the follow-up visit to check on the progress of OS's alleged pink eye, I happened to tell the nurse practitioner how traumatic I found administering eye drops. She shared a fantastic tip that works for children and even for adults. Have your child close his eyes and tilt his head back. Put two drops in the corner of each eye. When the child opens his eyes the drops will fall right in without the trauma of seeing something aimed right at his eye and without requiring a wrestling match. You can do the same thing for yourself. If your child is really young, wait until right before he wakes up in the morning or from nap time and apply the drops in the corner. For the night time dosing, you're on your own.
I cannot emphasize enough how well this little trick worked with OS. He became far more comfortable with the process. Eye drops ceased to be a huge trauma, leaving me with a happier child and with more energy to deal with other traumas such as keeping OS calm when he wants to sit in supplant my younger son (YS) from sitting in the stroller. Unfortunately, I have not found an equivalent tip for putting my cats in the carrier without hissing, scratching, biting and whining. Hmmm...maybe not the last one.
Nurse Practitioner's Lesson Learned: Administering eye drops to a child or adult with eyes closed averts a lot of discomfort, wrestling matches, hissing, scratching, biting, and whining.
I had a similar issue with ear drops when my son was having a lot of infections. I finally figured out I could do one ear while he was nursing. Then I would wait until he was asleep to do the other ear. Which only worked if he happened to fall asleep with the proper ear facing up.
Wow! That's great advise, wish I'd known that when my kids were younger and I went through the wrestling (kicking, scratching, crying)! Actually, I may still employee this technique the next time my husband needs eye drops for any reason, he is actually a bigger baby about it than my kids! He scratched his cornea once and had to put in antibiotic drops, I literally had to sit on his arms and put them in for him, wussy! :o)
Real life cat carrier tip: when you put your cat into the carrier, put him/her in tail-end first. It's not easy - but it's easier. (The cat can't see it's going into a confined space until it's too late -- it's a tip I got from my vet, and it's worked like a charm for me.)
Wijvenweek post #2. Since my post yesterday, I got the link to all of the other participants. While most of the participants in Wijvenweek appear to be Belgian, there are posts in a number of languages. Today's topic is about men.
Where to begin? Not with a stereotype. My husband's favorite color is purple. He loves decor with flowers on it. In fact our quilt is purple with darker purple flowers on it. He loves watching Army Wives and Lipstick Jungle even though he claims he would never admit it. He's the one who set the season passes though on Tivo. He'll mumble and grumble when I say I'm putting on a Lifetime Television for Women movie, yet he'll sit down and watch the whole thing with me and discuss it with me during commercial breaks. (Yes, fellow New Englanders, he was listening to the Red Sox game on the radio on the way to work this morning, and he swears he wasn't rooting against the Sox, but was neutral, despite being a Yankees fan.) My sons like playing with train sets and Matchbox cars, but also like to play with dolls and My Little Pony. Not to mention the toy whales and dolphins they bathe in the bathroom every day, usually in the sink or bathtub.
When I was a little girl and thought about being a mom, I always pictured a house of males to be crazy with testosterone-filled activities. For the most part, that hasn't been the case. However, as the only female in a house full of male people and a male dog, there is one aspect of being male that I just can't ignore: the pee splash. Nothing a little cleaning doesn't take care of though...particularly when they're the ones cleaning the bathroom.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Men can't be stereotyped, any more than woman can be stereotyped.
I now look forward to potty training a little boy. Oh dear. I like Wijvenweek. Not the least of all because I get to put those three semesters of Dutch I did to good use.
ewww... pee splash. Although (veering into the TMI category) I noticed that recently I have not been so great at peeing while squatting, so I can't really cast the first stone here.
haha, there were a lot of Wijvenweek participants who actually came to the conclusion that the differences between men and women are greatly exaggerated.
Thanks for particpating once again (as you notice, I am greatly behind in reading my feeds :p...but trying to catch-up)
At 4 am this morning, I woke up with a huge migraine in my right eye. It hurt to even blink and I knew if I even moved my head an inch, I would throw up. After lying there for what some like forever, I finally mustered up the will to call out to the Big Giraffe that I needed my migraine medicine. After a little bit, the medicine kicked in, and I felt better enough to be able to fall asleep. However, when it was time to get up, my head still hurt, although not quite as much, and I felt kind of...crappy. The Big Giraffe took the day off from work to stay home with the boys.
While I was dozing upstairs, the Big Giraffe had quite the morning. First, our older son (OS) had a gigantic accident in his bed. More crap to deal with. Well, technically not crap, but, pee nonetheless. The Big Giraffe got the pleasure of cleaning up the bedclothes and giving both boys a bath. (It was just apparently more convenient to have both in the tub.) In the meantime, the veterinarian had put our golden retriever, Gandalf, on another week of limited activity, because he is still not recovered from his surgery, so the Big Giraffe couldn't just open up the back door and let him out into the yard like we usually do. Instead he needed to be walked...apparently as soon as everyone was awake. During the baths, Gandalf had an accident. More crap for the Big Giraffe to handle. Yes, this time it was crap. Plus the Big Giraffe got to manage the usual antics of two small kids.
I would say that this gave the Big Giraffe a whole new understanding of what I do all day except that the Big Giraffe has always firmly believed that being a stay at home parent is very demanding. Personally, I think today I was better off with the migraine.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Parenting can involve a lot of crap.
Mega points to the Big Giraffe for understanding that staying home is not easy. It seems that all too many parents who don't stay at home think that tending children all day is just easy.
Hope the migraine is better.... or maybe not, you know, so you get the rest of the day off. lol
Our dog Gandalf is not allowed to run in the yard by himself until he is healed from his surgery. Our vet also warned us that he would be "backed up" for a few days after the surgery. The Big Giraffe was happy to report Gandalf's first "delivery" yesterday, but we were not convinced that he was all clear. The Big Giraffe even did a couple extra laps around the yard with Gandalf this morning in the hopes that there would be more to follow. In the end, he gave up, leaving the boys (canine and human), the girls (feline only), and me to our Thursday routine.
Thursdays tend to be our days to catch up around the house. Fun times over at the Giraffe household! I started upstairs by cleaning the bathroom, even putting out a newly cleaned bathmat. Then I undertook the role of Sherlock Holmes in order to solve the mystery of my missing lap suit. I like to call the suit "Grimace" because with it's eggplant purple in color, so I feel like Grimace from McDonald's when I wear it. My suspects were two small boys who are constantly taking things out of my gym bag no matter where I hide it. I searched the house high and low for Grimace, but it was nowhere to be find. The boys were working on puzzles up in their room. I decided to go check in the basement to see if Grimace had been caught in the dirty laundry pile.
I wasn't down there for more than a few minutes. I remember hearing the toilet lid upstairs fall twice and calling up and asking my older son (OS) if everything was alright. He said it was, so I proceeded to make lunch for the boys. When I went upstairs and picked up my younger son (YS), his clothes felt slightly damp to me. I asked OS if he was playing in the sink. He said no. I had just washed my hands so I figured I must not have dried them all the way, and didn't think any further about YS's clothes. I should have.
After lunch we went upstairs for quiet time, and I saw a giant wet spot on OS's bed. I asked him the obvious question: did he have an accident. He said it was water. Oh, alright. What water? Water from the sink? Silly, mommy. Of course it wasn't water from the sink, he told me. Sigh of relief. It was water from the toilet! Trying not to lose it, I asked the obvious question in a strangled I'm trying not to yell at the top of my lungs voice. How did it get there? I figured they used a cup or their hands. It was worse than I thought. After careful cross-examination, I learned that they had bathed OS's cloth doll in the toilet. While I'm pretty sure that the toilet water was clean, OS did mention that he had also used the toilet.
I am baffled why they did this. We have a stool in the downstairs bathroom so that they can fill the sink and bathe their toys. OS does this at least once a day. There was also a stool in the bathroom sink upstairs that they could have used. OS is 4.5 and has been potty trained for a year. He knows what goes in a toilet.
Of course the worst was still yet to come. When asked, OS told me he didn't know what happened to the doll. I was in complete disbelief at this point. How hard is it to find a sopping wet doll? I was worried that she was buried under a couch cushion. We finally found her on the dining room bench. She had been sitting next to OS during lunch! Let's not dwell on that one too much or I may see my dinner again.
I confiscated the doll and we all went back upstairs to clean the bathroom. Yes, the one which I had just cleaned earlier that morning. It looked like a monsoon hit! Even the shower was wet with toilet water. The not yet used bathmat was sopping wet.
After bringing order to the chaos, I went back downstairs to try not to hyperventilate. That's when I got hit with the second surprise. Gandalf had apparently cleared the rest of his backlog...right in the middle of the hallway.
As for OS, I told him he wasn't allowed to use the upstairs bathroom for the rest of the day. It was soaked from both the monsoon and the post-monsoon clean-up. I believe he thought it was a punishment, which is not what I had intended. It actually had way more of an effect than taking away the dolls and other toilet bathing accoutrements that I found.
The Big Giraffe brought me home dinner.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: It never rains, but it pours...toilet water.
My OS puked and cried most of the day yesterday, and while it was awful for him to be ill, I'm glad I didn't have to clean toilet water from all over my house! Here's hoping your OS doesn't tell my OS about toilet bathing of toys or we'll have pirate playwear in the trash!
Um,..well, I guess you can be relieved that they didn't attempt to flush the doll DOWN the toilet? (trying to look on the bright side :o) ) I almost thought you were going to say they had flushed your suit!
Oh, Alex, this had me laughing out loud!
I'm glad OS gets special celebrations for his special b'day!