An Oldie But Goodie

The beginning of fall will forever remind me of a hilarious exchange that took place between Dan and Elizabeth when she was about three years old and we were walking up toward the day care center to drop the kids off for the day. Everything was decorated with pumpkins and cornstalks and other "fall" things...

Elizabeth: Lookit all the PUMPKINS, MAMA! DADDY, LOOKIT THE PUMPKINS!
Dan: They're pretty cool, aren't they?
Elizabeth: YES!
Dan: And on Halloween, they'll hatch!
Elizabeth: *saucer eyes*

...Sarah: *headdesk*

How to Get a Free Full Body Massage

1. Make sure your children have plenty of toy trains and trucks readily available.
2. Ask them if they want to play "Mountain."
3. Lay on the floor on your stomach.
4. Tell them you are the mountain.
5. Specify that only toy vehicles are allowed on the mountain, NO ACTUAL CHILDREN.
6. Enjoy being horizontal until they start fighting over who gets to be Lightning McQueen.

This Post is About Poop. And Why I'm a Nice Wife.

Not even ten posts in and I'm already talking about poop. We'll get to the nice wife part later. I told you this was just another mommy blog.

So, Jacob wears cloth diapers most of the time. Elizabeth did too before she potty trained. I'd love to tell you that it's because I'm just that green, but really, it's because Dan is just that green. He's even a member of some order of green engineers that strive to use their powers for good protect the planet's resources in their work or something like that. I signed on because cloth diapers are cute. Oh hey, guess who does the diaper laundry! Hint: It's not me.

Over five years of cloth diapering in this house has made us both experts, albeit in different aspects of this undertaking. Dan is an expert in how to juggle the laundry. I am an expert in where to find the cutest diapers.

Invariably, when people find out that we use cloth, one of the standard responses is "But what about the POOP?" Yes, what about the poop? Not gonna lie, it's kind of gross. You're supposed to dump it into the toilet before throwing the diapers in the wash, but have you ever SEEN baby poop? It's not really something you can dump (no pun intended.) It's more of a "scraping" thing. Yeah, sorry for that imagery. Anyway.

Because we never really found a good cloth night time solution, Jacob wears a disposable diaper at night - we go through one pack of disposables every couple weeks or so. There are always a few in the house for that reason. Being home with Jacob all the time has me much more in tune with his rhythms, if you know what I mean. It occurred to me a couple weeks ago - I know about when he poops every day. What if I put a disposable diaper on him right before that? NO MORE SCRAPING! Or at least, a lot less scraping. And far fewer ripe poopy diapers in the diaper pail waiting for Dan every night!

And that's how we started going through two disposable diapers every day instead of just one. My environmentally conscious husband is totally okay with this, because he figures we're still doing better than if we were using all disposables all the time. And hello, the laundry is way less toxic.

Told you I was a nice wife. ;)

The Sad Story of Henry, or A Cautionary Tale About Children's Books

Okay, so anyone with a kid under the age of ten knows who Thomas the Tank Engine is. Thomas' marketing machine is vast and all-encompassing; if you have a toddler or preschooler you have almost certainly been ensnared by it in one way or another. And it's not limited to boys, let me tell you. When Elizabeth was two, she was really into the wooden trains at her daycare center, so she asked Santa to bring her some trains. Santa happily complied, and a wooden figure eight track with an engine and other fun stuff appeared under the tree. However, because Santa didn't see a reason at the time to spend nearly triple the amount on the Thomas brand set, Elizabeth's Christmas trains were plain old trains.

The first thing she said when she saw her lovely train set?
"HEY! WHERE'S THE FACE?"

Anyway.

Thomas has been a permanent fixture in our home for the last few years, and we're only getting deeper in, now that Jacob is two and also loves trains. On our weekly jaunts to the library, he always wants to check out a Thomas story book or a Thomas DVD. Last week when we went, the ENORMOUS BOOK OF EVERY THOMAS STORY EVER was actually available, so we checked it out, and it has been a hit at bedtime ever since. Until we read about poor Henry.

Henry, a shiny green train, doesn't like the rain. He's afraid it will mess up his lovely green paint, and so he decides to hide in a tunnel where he won't get wet. Everyone tries to get Henry out of the tunnel. Nobody is successful.

SO THEY WALL HIM INTO THE TUNNEL AND LEAVE HIM FOR DEAD.

NO. SERIOUSLY.

And this is how the story ends:

"But I think he deserved it, don't you?"

WHAT.

Dan and I looked at each other in HORROR upon finishing this story in the book and basically could hardly believe what we'd just read aloud to our children. The kids looked at us, a little bewildered, because surely that couldn't be the end, could it?

And then Dan and I couldn't stop laughing because it sounds EXACTLY like the kind of ending we would have sarcastically made up for the story, resulting in both children giggling and shrieking "NO THAT'S NOT HOW IT GOES." Then we'd read it the right way and everyone would have a good laugh. BUT NO. Henry gets walled into a tunnel and he DESERVES IT. Poor bastard.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that in the following story, Henry redeems himself and they let him out of his Poe-like predicament. BUT STILL.

It's all downhill from here, man. Premature burial at the ripe old ages of five and two? I might as well just bust out "A Modest Proposal" and read that to them tonight.

I Miss Sick Days

When you work full time outside the home - or at least, when I worked full time outside the home - getting sick was a nuisance, but at least I had sick days. Daycare would still happily take my little monsters, and I could stay home, blissfully alone, and nurse myself back to health. Nursing myself back to health often meant sleeping most of the day and watching as many Maury paternity episodes as I could find. Not so anymore.

Since leaving my job last spring, I've been sick three times - twice with strep throat, and this latest bout of illness is either a fall cold or really severe fall allergies (or maybe a little of both.) The strep episodes were particularly awful, because Elizabeth hadn't started school yet so I had both kids home with my sick self, and it was SUMMER and shouldn't we be DOING EVERYTHING ALL DAY LONG IN THE SUMMER, MAMA?!?! I could barely swallow, let alone get my butt off the couch, and she wanted to know why we weren't going to the pool. Sit DOWN, child.

It's easier to be sick with just Jacob at home, but I still have to drag myself to and from the bus stop (and today, soccer practice.) My television options are generally more along the lines of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse instead of Maury, but at least Jacob still takes a nap... even if he did drink half of my peach-banana-orange smoothie, the little sneak.

Clean Up the Duplo and You Can Watch Disney Junior

Most of the time, it's just me and my son these days. We walk my daughter to the bus stop at 8am every morning - about a mile round trip - and then it's the two of us until it's time to pick her up around 4pm.

Jacob is my easy going child. He is shockingly compliant for a two year old, and while he certainly has his moments, I really can't complain that much.

This morning the kids left Duplo strewn all over the living room floor, and we didn't have time to clean it up before our walk to the bus stop. When we got home, I told Jacob that I would let him watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse if he picked up the Duplo. It went something like this:

S: Pick up all the Legos and then you can watch Mickey Mouse!
J: Otay!
*Jacob proceeds to pick up about half the blocks, and then stops*
J: You help me?
S: *sigh* ...Okay.

Then I got down on the floor and started picking up Duplo. Jacob immediately stops and climbs up on the couch.

S: Hey! Where are you going?
J: I sit on the couch, watch Mickey Mouse.
S: You have to finish picking up the Legos first.
J: *sigh* ...Otay.

Then he got down and picked up the rest with me, and I turned on Disney Junior and made this post.

Seriously, this is not normal two year old behavior. Where was the tantrum? Where was the sass? I think my daughter has scarred me for life in this regard.

See, I told you this was just another mommy blog. At least we're going to the farmers market later?

Oh, hi.

So apparently, there is a whole sea of "mommy blogs" out there. I guess this is probably destined to be yet another one.

My kids are cuter than those other ones though, so you should read anyway.