Out of Practice

Dave used to travel a lot for work, but recently he hasn't had to travel very much, except for an occasional short trip to the Bay Area. Last week Dave had one of these one-night business trips (which by his company's standards, hardly even counts as a trip). I had the kids by myself for Monday and Tuesday. I'm a little bit out of practice on this business trip thing and I had a hard time on Monday, so I decided to make some plans for Tuesday to make things easier on me. The YMCA didn't have any Childwatch spots available, so I decided to take the kids to "Pump it Up" (one of these inflatable bounce house places) after school so I could read a book while they played. Then we would go out to dinner on the way home and I had a babysitter set up for the evening.

I took the kids to Pump it Up and settled in to read my book-- or at least tried to. They were playing really loud music-- so loud that it was hard to concentrate on my book (and, as the mother of 4 children, I'm pretty talented at blocking out noise). Jared felt a need to race Jackson up the slide which incited screeching and screaming in Jackson and protests of unfairness from Jared when I tried to mediate between the two of them. The two of them argued incessantly in between time-outs.

Addy discovered that the drinking fountain was WAY more fun than any of the bounce houses, so she spent her time seeing how wet she could get her clothes. I made Jackson go to the potty as soon as we got there, but about 1 hour into our excursion, as he was walking between bounce houses he stood in one place with the ever-so-slightest knee squat and a slightly pained expression on his face. "Jackson!!" I called, "Stop. Let's get to the potty!" But it was too late. He had pooped in his underwear. I took him to the bathroom where he got put in a pull-up. (I admit it. The underwear got deposited in the Pump it Up bathroom garbage. There's only so much one can handle. My belated apologies to the staff for the smell....)

After I got Jackson sufficiently cleaned up, he sat on time out for the rest of the time we were there-- which, of course, incited more screaming. I finally gave up and decided it was time for dinner. I had bought a groupon for Baja Fresh, so I decided to stop there to get something moderately tasty/healthy for our dinner. We ordered my Baja Bowl and four kids meals and we sat up to eat. The tray our food came on got stuck in the center of the table. Someone bumped it and it sent Camryn's plate flying off the table, Mexican Rice scattering everywhere. I dove to save what I could of her Taquitos and in the shuffle, the tray got bumped again. This time Jackson's plate went flying off the table. At this point, I realized that we didn't have enough time to finish eating and still get home in time to meet the babysitter and for me to make it to my appointment, so we packed all of our food in to-go boxes and got in the car. The babysitter was waiting at our house when we pulled into the garage. She came to help get the kids out of the car. As she opened the passenger sliding door, the door handle broke off.

I think this may be the part of the story where I start wildly tossing kids out of the car, saying "Please take them!" as I drive off, screeching around the corner. Or start scratching my head at exactly what part of "Pump it Up" and "Baja Fresh" combined with four kids sounded fun. Or ponder how exactly to break it to my husband that business trips and I don't get along so well anymore.

Funny Things the Kids Say

Here are some funny things that the kids have been saying recently:

Jackson:

• "I'm wary firsty." (He's never just thirsty. Always very thirsty.)
• "Cubumber" (for cucumber)
• "My birthday is in bohbember."
• "It's too louder!"
• "I! don't! want! dat! eeder!!!!" (I don't want that either!-- even if what you were suggesting wasn't an alternative at all....)
• "Is it tomorrow yet?"
• "Is it still today?"
• J: What time is it? Me: 3:30 J: Why?
• "When will we go to Disneyland?"
• J: What day is it? Me: Monday J: Why?
• (when saying a prayer) "Thank you for this days."
• "Am I a big kid?"

Addy:

• "Nammies" (jammies)
• "Skake" (fruit stick)
• "Snock" (snack, usually meaning fruit snacks)
• "Nominoes" (dominoes)
• "Tock-tock" (Tic-Tac)
• "Bunnies" (bunny crackers)
• "Oh no!"
• "Color!" (meaning to draw)
• "Where's Addy?"
• "no, no, no, No, NO, NOOOOO!"
• "nigh-nigh" (Night-night, meaning either nap, bed or blanket)
• "No want go nigh-nigh!" (I don't want to nigh-night)
• "Where's Jared Camryn?"

Lost in Translation

Last weekend Dave and I went to Albuquerque, New Mexico for his Grandfather's funeral. While it was sad to be mourning his grandpa's passing, it was not unexpected --since his health had been declining for some time. The happy part of funerals is that they are one of the few occasions where everybody comes. All of Dave's siblings were there and all but one of his cousins (who is currently serving a mission).

One of my favorite experiences was in the evening after the funeral. We went out to dinner with Dave's immediate family for New Mexican food. I think the waitress or the cooks forgot about us because we ended up waiting for about 45 minutes before we got our food. Once we finally got it, our patience was rewarded as we were treated to delicious sweet corn cakes, charro beans, fresh guacamole and some of the best fresh corn tortillas I have ever tasted, all finished off with deep-fried sopapillas.

As we sat forever waiting for our food, we kept downing chips with spicy salsa and ever-increasing amounts of water, in somewhat futile attempts to limit the heat build-up in our mouths. After drinking at least 4 glasses of water and waiting for what seemed like forever, I needed a bathroom break. The waiter pointed me in the direction of "Los Banos."

I thanked him and rushed off to take care of my business, thinking, "Wow, there's something I actually remember from high school Spanish." I practically ran into a huge heavy wooden door. I glanced up at the sign above the door, which read "Senoras."

I rushed into the bathroom, barely noticing the shiny red and black tile decor and bold flower arrangements. After I finished, as I exited the stall to wash my hands, I saw two urinals, each with an air freshener stuck in the bottom. "That's odd," I thought, as I washed my hands, "that they would turn a men's bathroom into a women's bathroom and just stick an air freshener in the old urinals instead of taking them out." As I washed my hands, a man opened the door to the bathroom and started to walk in, only to apologize profusely and make an embarrassed exit. It was only then that I realized that maybe-- just maybe-- I wasn't in the women's bathroom after all and it was my turn for an embarrassed apology. 

Sure enough, when I walked into the hall, the sign across the way said, "Senoritas,"

and the sign up above the door from which I was exiting said not "Senoras," but "Senores."

Oops. I guess the only plural form of Senor I covered in high school Spanish was Senors. Or maybe I don't remember that much from high school Spanish after all. 

Anyone could mistake this for "Senoras," right?

Toward a Peaceful Coexistence with Pee-Pee

If you read my facebook status updates, you will know that WAY too much of my life right now revolves around pee and poop. Let's just say that potty training with Jackson has been a process-- a loooong process. This has caused some worry for me regarding Jackson starting preschool. There are few entry requirements for his preschool (no, we don't go to one of those uppity preschools with an application process and letters of recommendation), but being completely potty trained is one of them. (Um, how exactly do you define "completely"?)

Jackson has been getting better and better at using the potty. He usually goes without help pretty much whenever he needs to. But he has a bad habit of waiting too long to go and then not quite making it. This results in a perpetual wet spot on the front of his pants and several changes of underwear and pants each day. He usually doesn't have "puddle on the floor" type of accidents, but I still have not been able to get him to successfully keep one pair of pants dry for a single day.

The bright side of things is that he has never had an accident at preschool. Maybe it is because he really likes preschool, but he has never peed his pants there-- although he has had a fairly big accident within minutes of coming home. I keep thinking that one of these days his "staying dry at preschool" skill will transfer over for general usage, but it hasn't happened yet.

We have tried a variety of different methods, consequences and bribes in our quest for the elusive dry pants. I tried to think of a "natural consequence" for wetting pants and the most logical was something to get clean again. Since Jackson really likes baths that didn't seem like a good option, so I went with cold showers. (This probably sounds harsh, but I was getting desperate--we've been doing this for months now). But even after days of consistently enforcing a cold shower after he wet himself, there was still no difference. So I resorted to bribery: jelly beans for staying dry between trips to the potty. He liked the jelly beans, but it still didn't increase the frequency of dryness. (Did I mention that even when he makes it to the potty he doesn't have the best of aim, so we perpetually have toilets, floors and bath rugs that are generously sprinkled with pee-pee? I'm beginning to wonder if the makers of Clorox wipes have him on their payroll....) So I finally decided that I just needed to give him time for his body to learn and in the meanwhile to work toward a peaceful coexistence with pee-pee.

(This next paragraph contains graphic descriptions that may not be appropriate for those who are not parents or have not had to potty-train....)
This morning I woke up in a less-than-great mood. I consciously chose to have a slow morning and went upstairs to get dressed about 10 minutes before Addy had to be at playgroup. I went in to my bathroom and something didn't smell right. There was a discarded pull-up and a big pile of runny poop in front of my toilet and splattered on the walls. I scrambled to clean it up, muttering thanks for the invention of paper towels and Clorox wipes, and then got dressed and went to get Jackson's clothes from his room to get him dressed. There was another discarded pull-up on his floor, along with several poop smears on the carpet. More Clorox wipes and 10 minutes later, the mess was cleaned and Jackson was dressed. But by this time Addy had pooped and needed a diaper change, but at least she'd had the courtesy to keep it in her diaper. We were 40 minutes late for playgroup and I was 15 minutes late for my appointment that was during playgroup.

After a streak of whatever plans I tried to make not working out (Childwatch at the YMCA was full, tried to read a book but kept getting interrupted), we settled into the afternoon while Addy was down for her nap. But, before long, I heard Camryn yelling, "Mom! Jackson either barfed or pooped on the floor!" Sure enough, Jackson had another bout of diarrhea and not quite making it to the potty in time. This time there was runny poop in a pile in front of the toilet, squished into the bath rug, splattered on the side of the tub and a big puddle of pee-pee to top it all off (like a cherry on top). After more paper towels, Clorox wipes and scrubbing the rug out in the toilet, I admitted defeat and succumbed to feelings of defeat and futility and an afternoon of simply existing-- and trying to forget about the existence of poop.

This is AFTER I cleaned off everything I could....

But, having shirked my responsibilities to write this blog post, Addy has now emerged from the playroom with green marker covering her arms, hands and chin. I think that's my cue to go....

Rant Invasion

Okay, I need a good rant. Today has been a downer day. There hasn't been anything terrible, it's just one of those days where you wake up feeling "off" and things never quite get into place. Sundays tend to be hard days for me (the day of rest, right?) and yesterday was no exception. Maybe I'm still trying to recover.

I didn't have to teach Sunbeams at church because we had Stake Conference, but I replaced teaching wiggly 4-year-olds with playing a Mack Wilberg arrangement on the organ for a choir number. For those of you who aren't familiar with Mack Wilberg, he is the director of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and a famous choral arranger. A good chunk of his work is originally for orchestral accompaniment (which doesn't cut down easily to only two hands)-- and if it's not, the keyboard part is really hard because he enjoys inflicting pain on accompanists. :) Which would be fine, except: A) I have enough pain inflicted on me already by potty training right now, 2) Organ requires more brain-power for me than piano (the whole playing an instrument with your feet thing...), and, Third, I have two tiny helpers who love to push "transpose" buttons and add an unwritten pedal part while I practice organ. Yay.

Grumbling aside, the number went fine and it was even a teensy bit fun to get a chance to blare loud organ music in the middle of a church meeting. So after I finished playing, I sat down with the fam and prepared to *enjoy* the rest of a two-hour church meeting sitting on the 4th row with four kids (something akin to *enjoying* a triple marathon with no water in the summer in Arizona). Within five minutes of this, the nice lady sitting in front of us (with her teenager-- so she must have some acquaintance with kids in her distant past...) turns around to Jackson (aged 3) and says to him, "Can you please be quiet so I can hear?" Um, okay? For starters, Jackson was being quiet and good- at least for him. He was not being completely silent, but he was being fairly quiet for a three-year-old. And maybe she could have addressed me instead of my partially verbal toddler?

The rest of the meeting was peppered with dirty looks from the lady sitting in front of us, even though we took the two younger kids out whenever they were being truly noisy. I suppose in certain circumstances or situations this would be understandable, but for goodness sake, we were not in a concert, we were in a Mormon church meeting! We are a church where big families are common and it is customary --and expected-- for you to bring your kids with you to the service.

Anyway, I was stressed out from having played the organ and not in any mood to tender indignant looks from the lady in front of me. I really wanted to just go home. It's hard enough to get a family of four dressed in Sunday clothes and to church in the morning. I didn't feel the need to be made to feel completely unwelcome (even though I was playing a difficult organ piece as a free service) because I accidentally forgot to gag my children before I came. I (barely) managed to make it through the rest of the meeting. Yes, I know. I had a very uplifting meeting. I couldn't focus on the talks. Between taking Jackson out to the potty and trying to silence any happy peep out of him and Addy (who is the world's loudest happy baby), I was a bit preoccupied. Every time one of my kids made a sound I winced and waited for the dirty look.

As we got up to leave at the end, the lady sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I just had a feeling that I needed to tell you that it really does get better. I had five kids myself and I know how hard it can be. You have a beautiful family and your kids were just fine." I (who do not cry) almost burst into tears. After spending the whole meeting thinking, "Why are we even here? We are just bothering other people. I'm not getting anything out of it, the kids aren't getting anything out of it. What's the point? We should just go home.", it was nice to know that there are people out there capable of having some empathy. It's not like I don't know that my kids can be bothersome or annoying in a meeting (or on an airplane or whatever other public place we happen to be in). But for goodness sake, they are children. They really are trying and so am I, so please try to have some compassion and patience.  

As for today's trials.... Jackson peeing his pants. And pooping his underwear (after weeks of no poop accidents). Not making it to the YMCA to exercise. Feeling fat. Jared absolutely going ballistic because I couldn't understand that he was TOTALLY JUSTIFIED and didn't make Jackson upset ("But mom... it wasn't my fault that our friend didn't bring another ball for our game on the bouncer and that Jackson only likes games where everyone has a ball...") and so forth. Round up the usual suspects....

Ten Years Ago Last Week: A Jared Album

I was planning to do this post for a while but -- in typical form-- am getting around to posting it a week late. Sigh, mommy-hood brings out the promptness in all of us.

Last Wednesday marked the 10-year anniversary of when I became a mother. Yes, my oldest child turned 10. Here is a photo tribute to my oldest child, Jared. Jared, I love you and I am proud to be your mother!

Gotta love the cinder block walls in married student housing!

You Can't Hide... Or Can You?

We just got back from being out of town for almost a month, going on three different "trips." Obviously, I have a lot to write about, but I just wanted to write about two things before I forgot.

It's always funny to me how small children try to hide things (usually unsuccessfully) from their parents. (Kind of like when I ask Jackson if he is wet and he insists he'd not but there is a huge wet spot at the front of his pants.) This morning Jackson was throwing a tantrum and got up from where I put him on time out, so I took him up to his bed. He didn't WANT to stay on his bed and was very upset at me. I went out of his room to look for something and when I came back, Jackson was "gone." He had hidden by sitting next to the armchair in his room and putting a blanket over his head. He held very still, certain that if I didn't move, I wouldn't notice the huge Jackson-sized bulge under the blanket next to his chair.

The other funny example of this was when we went camping with my parents. We were setting up the camp kitchen (my mom is a SERIOUS camp cook-- don't mess with her pop-up tables, camp cookers and multiple organized holders of cooking gadgets). We had just set up a pop-up table with a rack for hanging stuff on top and gotten everything on it organized when Addy pushed on it a little bit too hard and the whole thing fell over. After one huge-eyed look of panic, Addy immediately lay on the ground and pretended to be asleep. I guess maybe she would thought she was just taking a nap in the middle of the dirt and some nearby squirrel had pushed the table over. :)