Friday, June 25, 2010

Speaking of Poop...

Warning - the following post is perhaps more info than anyone wanted to know but after the thought popped in my head I thought "I must record this mom moment."

Have you ever walked in to a bathroom at someone else's house and thought "The person who was in here before me must have pooped."  You have this response not because it smells like poop but because it smells like lilac-scented poop.  This used to happen often at my grandma's house.  The grandkids would inevitably eat a bunch of junk but we were all pre-teens and were embarrassed that we pooped.  Grandma always had a can of air freshener on the back of the toilet - usually orchard spice or some such nonsense.  So you would walk in to the bathroom and it smelled like apple pie poop.  Gross, I know.

So Sam has been eating a lot of blueberries lately.  By a lot I mean I think he has eaten two cups in the last two and a half days.  So tonight I took off his shorts and his diaper was full.  I thought "that's strange" because when Sam poops people next door can smell it.  When I opened his diaper I was immediately taken back to grandmas', because it smelled like blueberry poop.  It also looked like blueberry pie filling.  Instead of being completely grossed out I was oddly nostalgic for grandma's apple pie poop bathroom.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Parenting Tips from a Priss

I confess, I am kind of a priss.  Not so much in demeanor but in my avoidance of dirt.  I am not a germaphobe and I have no issue with the things I can not see in dirt (like e-coli or what not), it is the mess that I see that bothers me.  (If you have known me since high school or college and have seen my room you will know that this has NOT been a life long problem.)  I somehow have come to equate pristine with serene.  When everything is in its' place then all will be peaceful.  (I don't know where I got this.)  I don't like it when my kids' faces are dirty or their clothes for that matter.  I don't like to make a mess and I don't like to play in the dirt.  I am not an outdoorsy girl.  I am not even a sporty girl.  I like to watch sports but I still have traumatic memories of doge ball and gym class.

I am trying desperately not to pass this on to Emelia.  I can't tell you how many times I would be sick to my stomach knowing someone was going to ask me to play volleyball at a picnic or softball at a company outing.  I don't want Emelia to go through that.  So I really try to be encouraging about playing sports and not being afraid of balls and the like.  I am not so good about letting everyone get messy.  Things have gotten better since Sam came because he is somehow inherently dirty - all the time.  I try to just let them be.    Messiness is not the end of the world and I am all for letting kids be kids.  Emelia does have some priss tendencies - she doesn't like to walk on sand and she is like the princess and the pea if one grain of sand gets in her shoes.  Sam could care less - you go buddy.

Today God gave me an excellent opportunity to practice priss-free parenting.  We went for a walk around the lake.  It is a 3.5 mile walk and then we stop at the playground.  It has been raining since Sunday here so there was lots of water.  When I tried to be fun and take a trail out to a little island I pushed the double wide through about five inches of mud.  So now my tires are covered in mud as are my shoes.  Okay, I will deal.    We get to the playground and the sand is all wet and Emelia and Sam are shoveling in it.  Sam proceeds to EAT a shovelful - with a smile and a few rocks spit back out.  Okay, I will deal.  Emelia has to go to the bathroom... in the outhouse.  Okay, still dealing.  Now Sam is covered in wet sand from head to toe and Emelia wants a snack.  We head back to the car and I dust Sam off the best I can, I use a wipe to wash hands and I throw in some sanitizer for good measure.  I hand each half a fruit and cereal bar.  Sam mashes it up and shoves as much of it in to his mouth as he can.  The rest he smears in his hair.   I give up.  We are going to Target, they will look like rug rats and I am just going to have to suck it up and deal.  I did just that.  We weren't pristine but we had fun, got what we needed and no one gave us a dirty look.  The woman at the bakery even gave us a free cookie.

Maybe messy is more fun.      

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Baseball Babies

For Father's Day I had a friend of mine take some pictures of the kids in their Cardinals gear for Jeff.  It was not the best photo shoot either of them has had.  Halfway through they both had to break for a snack and that is when we got my favorite photo...

This one cracks me up because Emelia is trying to "put her arm around" Sam but she ends up choking him and looks delighted while Sam just looks put out.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Everyone Poops

This book is Emelia's current bedtime read of choice.  Why this book and why now I don't know.  The only thing I can think of is that bodily functions are funny at our house.

Jeff and my mom had something in common you see - they both loved potty humor.  My mom would stand in the card aisle for an hour trying to find just the right fart card.  Jeff makes up songs about poop and pee.  Abba's "Lovin' Me Lovin' You" turns in to Goin' Pee, Goin' Poo, I do numbers one and two.  Emelia and he father make each other laugh by playing a game called I want to eat... (then they fill in the blank with poopy diapers, or underpants or tushies.)  I try to discourage this because the first time she blurted out that she wanted to eat underpants in line at Target I about died.  Jeff is now on board with discouraging this but he can't help himself sometimes.

The other day Emelia tooted, I know because I could smell it.  I asked "did you toot" and she giggled and said "aahhhh it smells rosy!"  Then she proceeded to laugh hysterically.  I am pretty sure my mom was giggling right along with her up in heaven.

I try not to be a stick in the mud but my manners alarm goes off in huge ways when this stuff comes up, which is ironic given my mom's love of the word fart.  So,  alas we try to compromise by reading Everyone Poops.