Diabetes Sucks-and a bit of a Rant!

Well, the food is downright plech! I don't mind the vegetables, but I'm only supposed to be eating about 2 servings of fruit a day. And no milk and fruit at the same time (bye-bye smoothies). I'm also supposed to have a protein whenever I have milk, starch (which, for me, are my whole grain foods, as I'm not much of a potato or pasta eater), or fruit. Seriously, who wants to choke down a hard boiled egg or a serving of cottage cheese each time you want to have some fruit or some steel cut oats. I know there is a learning curve and with some time I will be able to get a little more creative, but so far this is booooooooor-ing!

Thank goodness for soy products, because I'm not much of a meat eater. And then on top of everything, I do believe that meat and dairy products are huge contributers to cancer. Just read some of Roger Mason's articles at http://www.youngagain.org. Click on "Article Library" for a full listing. He believes that the doctors who put you on insulin medications are quacks and that the only real way for anyone to "cure" their diabetes (provided they have a working pancreas) is to give up high fat (animal fats), high protein (animal proteins), high sugar diets, eliminating meat and dairy altogether and go back to a diet of predominantly whole grains and vegetables. Of course he also says you have to balance out your hormones, all of them, and get all the other nutrients and supplements that start to decrease as we age. I believe him. I think it's eating all that meat, dairy and sugar that gets you in trouble with type 2 diabetes in the first place. Oh, and excercise...it's essential in controlling blood sugar.

My own compromise is that I try to substitute soy meats for real meat, when I can. I try to buy organic meats that aren't treated with hormones and antibiotics, when I can. And I ALWAYS buy organic milk. Probably not good enough, but that's what I normally do.

Also, regarding Roger Mason: He has a unique perspective. He's not a dietician, nutritionist or medical doctor. His background is in chemistry. So when he tells you that "nightshade" vegetables (tomatos, potatos, peppers, eggplant, etc) are bad for you, it's not because they're not "nutritionally" good, it's because there are NEUROTOXINS in them. When he says Canola Oil is bad for you, it's because there's no such thing as a "canola" plant...it's RAPESEED oil, which was originally used industrially...It is toxic over 2% concentrations and in order to sell it for human consumption, it's processed in concentrations lower than 2%...but it's still toxic erucic acid!!! At any levels. Do YOU trust the FDA when they tell you something that is toxic is okay at specific low levels? I don't. Why is there so much alzheimers? Why is there so much Autism? Why is there so much cancer? I think it's an accumulation of all the environmental poisons, combined with all the "low level" poisons that we ingest on a daily basis. Check out some of his articles and then research what he says...make your own decisions, but be informed.

He also scrutinizes research literature. You will not find him listed on websites like http://www.quackwatch.com, but you will find some of the people that he exposes like Dr. Andrew Weil and Robert Atkins. As a matter of fact, he exposes a lot of people, practices and products that are absolutely bogus and have absolutely no legitimate research behind them.

Anyway, this gestational diabetes sucks and I keep reminding myself that it's for the good of these two babies. I would like to revamp my eating after this pregnancy and bump up the grains and vegies and start eliminating the meats and dairy, so that I don't get Type II diabetes later on.

Max Started Pre-school Today

Happy Day for Max! He's been going on and on about starting school. Somewhere he can play with "lots and lots of friends." When I brought him to his classroom, he was already playing before I had a chance to chat with the teachers for a moment. I never had any luck getting him poopy-potty trained, per the rules of the school, but they agreed to see how it goes with him. He was able to poop on command (in a diaper of course) before we left for school this morning. So for two days a week, 4 hour stints, I hope that suffices, for now.

Anyway, in true overly-hormonal-pregnant-mamma-drama, I burst into tears on my way back to the car. It's tough to leave him somewhere like that. As much as he's been driving me crazy lately, it's even more unthinkable to not have him with me.

On the other hand, I'm happy that he's having a really enriching experience. He is hungry for the interaction and he deserves to have his needs met. I've been snapping at him a lot lately, feeling spent and impatient because I'm in such an elevated state of physical stress with this pregnancy. My beautiful little boy doesn't deserve that at all. So even though I feel a little knot in my stomach with his absence, I'm really okay with it on a rational level.

So now I have a little time to just relax. And what's the first thing I do with it? Uninterupted vegging out time, on the computer with a little "spider solitaire." Ahh, the little luxuries of life!

Bellies and Toys

I'm right at the point where it's very, very difficult, if not impossible, to walk around without one of those "home depot" style back braces. Although the brace does little for my back, it does wonders to support this belly, if I position it it just right. It also has straps to help hold the belly up too. Anyway, if I'm going to do any serious standing in the house (like laundry or putting away dishes) I have to wear it. Now I wear it outside the hosue, as well, even though it's not subtle and can't be worn underneath my clothing. I do try to wear a denim jacket over it when it's not too warm out. But it's either that, or forgo the outings altogether, which I am not ready for.

Last night I took Max down to Toys R Us. I wanted to buy a couple of infant baby dolls, to start showing him how we might be treating these babies. We call them by their names; Brooklyn and Shelby. For some reason "his" baby is always Shelby and I get to tend to Brooklyn. Anyway, it was so cute to see him "interacting" with his babies. He loves feeding them, burping them and laying them down to sleep. Today I'm going to let him push them around in the double stroller for a bit.

We also picked up a Spiderman action figure. It seems that Spiderman is popular amongst other kids in his age range. I've been baffled by this, as the only Spiderman exposure there seems to be is completely inappropriate for his age. Yet all these other parents think nothing of it. No concern about the violence, the discourse and certainly not the lack of any educational element.
That being said, I figured he could play with the action figure without having to be exposed to the cartoon or the movie. No big deal.

Should I Be Worried?

Last night, before bed, I was talking to Max about the impending arrival of his two baby sisters. I explained to him that after a while, the doctor would take the babies out of mommy's belly and we would have them in the house with us. I told him that they would love him very much and he would have fun helping to take care of them and play with them.

Then he added, with a tone of earnest sincerity..."and I can step on them and make them cry?"

I just stared at him for a moment; shocked. Then explained that "no, we're not going to make the babies cry, we're going to love them and kiss them and give them bottles of milk to make them stop crying."

Should I be worried?

Lunch, Dinner & Snacks

So yesterday I ate salad with veggies, avocado and feta cheese for lunch. I also ate a hard boiled egg with mayo and wasabi. The days snacks were celery topped with salmon flavored cream cheese and wasabi and also peanut butter & celery. I also had a handful of almonds. For dinner I had cottage cheese and a hot dog with a slice of cheese.

Sometime during the day, my blood sugar was tested, thanks to my MIL, and it was 106. Good enough. BUT...let me add that I felt like crap the whole day. First of all, I'm sure I didn't meet my daily nutrient or caloric needs for a pregnancy. I also think that the LACK of sugars in my blood made me feel horrible and sleepy.

Today I have stuck to the low carb way as well, eating the soy chorizo and eggs for breakfast again, another handful of almonds and a piece of celery with salmon cream cheese and wasabi. I broke down and had a yogurt that had 17g of carbs in it because I am feeling weak. I ate 3/4 of it.

Tomorrow, I will stop this madness and eat much healthier, because I am having that 3 hour glucose test and will have that behind me. I won't go back to my diet of lots of sweets, but I will add back in the right kinds of carbs (ie. cereals, breads, brown rice, legumes). Then I will wait for the results of my test.

I woke up in the wee morning hours, last night, and watched a show called "You, the Owners manual..." It was a bit of a wake-up call to change my eating habits. Garbage in, garbage out. I want to be alive and healthy for a good long time to be with my children. That's not going to happen if I keep up my old habits. I went to Dr. Oz's website, http://www.realage.com and took the test to see what my body's real age is. It was just over 48 years old and I'm only 43. I really liked the site. It gave meal suggestions, recipes and shopping list...not to mention a whole lot of very good information.

I also reserved a few of his books at my local library. I want to be healthy again. I want to feel like I have energy again. I want to live long, without a list of medical complaints, threats or excuses.

Breakfast

2 eggs, scrambled with;
soy chorizo, topped with;
sour cream
and some steak

Carb factor...maybe 6 carbs
Satisfaction factor...0

Max wouldn't eat the waffle I made him and it's killing me to throw it away instead of just eating it, like I normally would (He wanted a "Lunchable" instead).

Not in the Clear, Like I Thought

So, today was not a great day at the OB office. A couple of weeks ago, they told me they would only call me if my blood glucose test came back too high. I hate that kind of an answer and I've learned my lesson about allowing that kind of responce. From now on, I'm going to make them call me one way or the other. BECAUSE, since they hadn't called me, I thought I was in the clear and passed it. INSTEAD, they had not even received the results from the lab and had to have the lab fax them over while I was there today.

I guess I was allowed to have a reading up to 140, with no worries. It turns out my blood sugar level was 209. So now I have to find time to sit around the lab for 3 hours while they retest me. And you have to sit RIGHT THERE. They don't let you wander away, in case you GET SICK...ugh! My doctor has advised me to stay away from sugar and eat a low carb diet. Something he has been advising me of from the beginning, but which I have ignored.

A typical day's diet might be something like this for me:

Upon waking:
Blueberry toast and tea...maybe a couple of slices

Actual breakfast:
cereal with milk or pancakes or blintzes or waffles and some fruit

Snacks:
carrots dipped in hummus
apple
ice cream
jelly beans
pita chips and tzaziki


lunch:
maybe a sandwich or some frozen food from trader joes...maybe cereal...cream of wheat with loads of butter and brown sugar...who knows

dinner:
a lot like lunch, maybe something healthier if Scott is home and I actually cook

drinks:
orangina
milk
sprite

My day also consists of eating things I make for Max, but which he later refuses or doesn't finish. Mostly I just graze throughout the day because I can't eat a whole meals worth at once. I can survive off of toast and cereal alone sometimes. Needless to say, I am a carb junkie.

So...we will see what happens when I retake this test on Thursday. I really don't want to have gestational diabetes. No one ever does. But I really, really, don't want to have to deal with this. Ugh!!!!

On a more positive note, my weight gain was only 2 1/2lbs. and that was all baby!!!

So Far, So Good

I had a perinatal apt. today and all was well. The babies are weighing in at around 30 weeks and I am 28 1/2 weeks along. The ultrasoundologist (I know that's not what they're called) said "you have really big babies, for having twins...normally they weigh in about a week BEHIND schedule."

I'm showing no signs of pre-term labor, so I am cleared for another 4 weeks, until I need to go back for further violations. So while all is well, I still feel like garbage. My whole midsection HURTS! There really isn't any position that I'm comfortable enough in to feel any kind of relief. Staying off my feet helps the most. I also have plans to try and start spending some time in a pool. That's one of the few things that makes the body feel weightless and will relieve the incredible pressure of gravity pulling on this massive belly.

Baby "A" is recessed further into my abdomen and on my left side. She is the bigger 3lb 8 oz. of the two. Baby "B" is on my right side and pushing against the surface. She weighs about 3lb 11 oz. I'm convinced that baby "B" is going to be a kickboxer someday. She kicks me and stretches out her legs all the time, leaving me with the feeling like she's going to break through the surface and find her own way out.

Max had his gymnastics class this morning. Later, this afternoon, I took him to Chuck E. Cheese for a couple of hours. He keeps busy dropping tokens into the various games and I read a book. I know it would be nicer if I was playing with him, but in the spirit of keeping off of my feet, I think he made out pretty well.

Why Don't I Blog?

I've been trying to keep true to the title of my blog. By that, I mean I have refrained from blogging about myself and have kept to telling of Max. So I ask myself why I rarely feel inspired enough to tell any stories. I think the answer is that I usually only blog about the most noteworthy things. And lately, we have been stuck in the house quite a lot. This is because of my twin pregnancy. It's been a rough one on me, physically. I've been in a lot of discomfort and find that I cann't even stand for very long. So poor little Max's life has taken a turn and he has been acting out a bit, due to the sudden shift in activity level. I'm doing what I can to alleviate that, but until I can get him into preschool, it's a challenge. He refuses to poop in a potty, rather than requesting a diaper for the deed, and his preschool requires him to be fully potty trained. We're working on it, but as I write this, he is begging for his morning diaper so he can poop. I don't have the heart to cut him off cold-turkey, despite the advice of many moms who have had success doing just that. His pediatritian doesn't recommend it either.

Anyway, I'm going to try to blog a bit more, but just for the record, it's going to be anything goes...maybe I will talk about Max and maybe I will just use this as an opportunity to complain about all my physical discomfort. Ugh!

SMELL!

Max ran towards me, shreiking"mommy!" with his index finger pointed towards me. Immediately thinking he had a boo-boo that needed tending to, I kissed it. Max exclaimed "no mommy," as he stuck his finger down the back of his shorts and back up to my face, shouting "SMELL!" Mortified, I shrieked and ran to the bathroom to wash my mouth off with soap!!

A Little Wound Up

Last night we bought a Honda Odyssey. We opted for a used vehicle from a dealership so that we could have the Honda Certified Warranty. That was all fine. What wasn't fine, was how long we were at the dealership. Somewhere around 6 hours. And Max was with us.

Well, Max hates to wear his shoes, so he kept taking them off. When I saw how FILTHY his feet became from the "waxed" floor there, I decided to let him keep them off so that he didn't RUIN his brown suede sneakers. That was a tough call, because my normally ghostly white son had black, black feet. I washed them once, when we decided to go get some dinner at Marie Calendars while they processed the other 3 people who were there before us (only one finance person was there because the other had gone home sick that day). I also had to wash them again when we got home, while Max was asleep, so I could put him into bed.

Anyway, they had a children's playroom there, but it was full of very uninteresting infant toys. They also had a widescreen television, but I could not find anything Max would watch. So Max started running around that dealership like he was doing laps at the Indie 500. At one point, we couldn't find him and then all of a sudden we saw his head pop up from the driver's seat in one of the floor-room models...a convertible. He ate 3 bags of popcorn. He also started chasing around the remaining 3 employees, our salesman, the desk manager and another salesman...yelling out to them "I'm gonna get you." At one point I saw him running at a full gallop, shaking his head from left to right, hair swingin through the air, in large arching circles. It was several hours past his bedtime and he was completely over stimulated.

So FINALLY, it was our turn to complete our loan paperwork (at 3.9% interest, we decided to finance through Honda). Anyway, the finance guy had left the room to go grab some paperwork and while he was gone, Max threw up all over me. He had complained that his tummy hurt, but because he was still playing, I didn't pay a whole lot of attention. Atfter all, it wasn't like we could leave yet. In retrospect, I wish I had tried to quite him down more, but he had resisted all attempts to get him to sit still.

Max puked all over me from my crotch down to my knees, as I had been sitting in a chair. I couldn't move because of all the vomit in my lap and Scott was trapped, behind the guy's desk, between me and the wall...making it difficult to get around me to grap a trash can for Max, as he continued to empty the contents of his stomach into my lap and onto the floor. Thank goodness for the blanket in my trunk. I had to take my pants off and rinse them in the restroom sink and then wrap that blanket around me to finish off our paperwork and make the drive home.

So now we have the Odyssey in the driveway and all is good. Blech.

Silly, Silly, Boy

Me: "Max, are you grumpy?"
Max: "No (eyebrows furrowed and frowning), I'm cranky!!"

Max: (while talking on the phone with his grandmother, he's spills some water on the bed) "See gramma??? (holding the telephone receiver up to the spot where the water was spilled)

Me: (lifting up my shirt, showing Max my belly) "There are two sisters in mommy's belly' (as I am pregnant with twin girls)
Max: (holding up his own shirt) "Max has two brothers in his belly"

Your Butt's Too Big

The other day I asked Max to scoot over so I could sit down on the chair in front of the computer (I needed to interupt his session to look something up quickly). Max and I have shared this seat many times while playing one of the games of noggin.com or nickjr.com together. To my surprise, Max's reply was "no Mommy, your butt's too big!"

I'd Like to Retire the Diapers Now!

I really don't mind that Max still needs to sleep in a diaper. Not nearly so much as I wish he'd stop requesting them to poop in. He will not even TRY to poop on the toilet. It's non negotiable. When he needs to poop, he comes into the room and announces "I need a diaper." Sometimes, he has already retrieved one and hands it to you to put onto him. Obviously, he recognizes that he needs to poop. I had always thought that was half the battle. If it is, then what's the other half? I think the next size up from what he's wearing now is a "Depends."

Sometimes he's been asking to see MY poop or my husband's (or yours too, if you happen to come over to our house and disappear into the bathroom). He says "I need to see that poop!" Then, when you let him look in the bowl, he confidently replies "I know!" We go through this same ritual when he asks to see the poop in his own diaper. I don't know what it means, but I'm hoping this is also a step towards potty pooping.

I have already packed away the little potty that he used to use when he started peeing in a potty. I wonder if I should get that back out. Maybe the "big" potty is still too intimidating. I never really wanted him poop in that potty because I didn't really want to have to clean it out. I figured if he was peeing in the big potty, he would automatically transition to pooping in it too. So far, no good. I guess I better start working on it again.

Do You Want to be A Big Brother?

That was the question I asked Max. He said, "No!!! I'm not big!!!" I left it at that. I don't quite know how to start prepping him for the fact that he's going to be a big brother to, not one, but two siblings. How does one begin to notify the center of their universe, that they are going to be sharing that spotlight, in the future? With very strong feelings about being able to provide him with a sibling, for him, I now feel somewhat anxious about how I'm going to be upsetting his world. I realize I'm not inventing the wheel or anything and he's not the first kid in the world to have to deal with this, but he's my first kid and my first experiences breaking the news. I guess I'll start talking about it here and there, waiting until I start to show until I really break it down.
Sigh.

"The number you have reached is not in service..."

I was talking to my mother on the phone this evening. Meanwhile, I heard the water running in the bathroom and thought to myself "How lovely, Max is washing his hands before bed." WRONG...Max was drowning the cordless phone. He carried it out to me and said "look!!" And I said "Oh f*#k!!!" So now the phone (that one) is dead. We will be needing a new one. That one had two handsets and that was the only working one left. The only one I have now is a rickety old Uniden in our office. So if anyone can recommend a good telephone, I'm open for suggestions. Oh...and so you don't waste your breath telling me to dry it out with a hairdryer...I already tried that and the darned screws were in that phone so tight that I stripped them. Aargh!!! I also tried canned, pressurized air with the little tube attachment and squirted it in the little nooks that I could get to. No luck. Maybe it will dry out on it's own...I dunno.

Poor Max. I made him go to his bedroom. He asked "mommy, are you happy?" To which I replied, "No Max, I'm not happy." And he asked "are you mad?" and I said, "yes, I'm mad. You broke the telephone."

Little Jack Sparrow

"The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do and what a man can't do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that some day. "
--Captain Jack Sparrow



Max was an excellent trick-or-treater. He was quite outgoing. Technically, he was ingoing, so to speak. My task was to keep him from walking into other people's houses. Something he was quite comfortable doing.

The only thing better than his exhuberant "CHRIT-O-CHREAT!!" was his happy and sincere "THANKYOU!" after each little treat made a thunk into his little skull bucket. Max has never been lacking for manners and I was proud of him that night.

His pirate costume was a Disney, Jack Sparrow costume, paired up with some sweats and Ugg boots. Accessorized by his skull necklace, sword, scarf and bucket, he was fully ensembled.

Max had just as much fun passing out candy when we returned to our house. He ran screaming to the door and when it opened, he exclaimed "HI GUYS!!! I GOT CANDY!!" Then he proceeded to put two handfuls into each kids bag! He loved it. I had so much fun with him that night. I can't wait until next year.

"Relax Mommy"

So, yesterday, Max and I were leaving the mall from a rather fruitful shopping day at the Disney Store. I had three very large bags of merchandise that I was trying to stuff into my little Honda.

Meanwhile, Max decided he would like to enter the car from the front, passenger door. I was hollering for him to "shut that door" and "come back over here," because a mall is never a safe place for a three year old to be lurking, in and out of cars in the parking lot. Max always enters the car from the back driver's side, so I can get him secured in his car seat.

Well, he runs back over to the proper entry point, where I am standing, continuing to stuff bags into the car, but forgets to shut the front passenger door. I say "Max! Why didn't you shut that door?!" and he starts to run back over to shut it, which of course is not what I want him to do at that point. So now I'm hollering for him to "get back over here!"..."leave that door alone!"...because I still don't want him running around the car, only to be missed by some negligent driver, whipping around the parking lot.

To that he runs back over to where I am standing and puts his little hands on his hips and says "RELAX MOMMY!"

Watch Out, My Kid will Clobber Yours

After a really nice time with friends tonight, I come home and google "aggressive preschooler behavior" and "preschooler hitting behavior." So now I am feeling quite helpless. Apparently this is normal behavior, par for the course. The advice is much the same. Don't scold. Explain how the other kid feels. Remove your child from the situation. Help them with words to express their feelings. Blah, blah, blah. The truth is, yes, all preschoolers probably exhibit behavior like this from time to time...but again and again, it is my little gem who stands out, heads and shoulders, above the other kids with his behavior. It is no consolation that he will simply grow out of this, especially as his language skills develop. Some of the stuff I read even highlighted the merits of aggressive toddler/preschooler behavior.

Max is not on the accelerated end of the spectrum for verbal expression. I'm sure he gets quite frustrated with his inability to express surging emotions. He definitely expresses himself with his physicality.

But like I said, "blah, blah, blah"...none of that helps while you wipe a tear off of the other childs face. None of that helps when you see the expression of anguish on the other parents face. It doesn't help the guilt or the responcibility I feel for my inability to prevent these acts from happening in the first place.

Good Boy Mommy!

I can't even remember what I had done that deserved the accolades, but Max recently said to me, with all the sincerity he could muster, "good boy, mommy!" Yes, I laughed and smiled and hugged and kissed and thanked him. Then, I ran out of the room and told Scott and we both laughed again.

Today, I made it a point to mention that there are "girls" and "boys." I have never really differentiated this to him before. It never seemed necessary. So I told him "Max is a boy...daddy is a boy...mommy is a girl...gramma is a girl...Jarod is a boy"...etc., etc.

I don't plan on drilling this into his head. I just thought I might plant a seed. Max is almost always assumed to be a girl, because of his long hair. He's not aware of it though. So I really hope that he doesn't become aware of it, due to my recent illumination of the fact that we, humans, come in two flavors (and some would argue more than two).

I'm proud to be considered a "good boy" in his eyes.

Did I Mention That Max Turned 3?

At 3 years old, he's quite large for his age. Not ridiculously, but as large as the smaller 5 year olds. I noticed this in his art class today. He is just as big as 3/4 of the 5 year olds. I feel like I need to make his age known. That way the other moms are not expecting him to act like their 5 year olds. Yes, he "JUST" turned 3. If he hits your 5 year old or he screeches, just for fun, he "JUST" turned 3.

I am tired of feeling self conscious about his behavior. I think I remember my sister-in-law mentioning the same kind of situations with her son. I remember her telling me how she made remarks to people that he was not a retarded 5 year old...just a big 3 year old. I guess those genes are running in our family.

And it doesn't take very much to trigger Max into some really "unwanted" behavior. If another kid starts running and shrieking, you better believe that Max will, not only do it too, but he will outdo the kid who started it. Yes, he often starts it.

It's okay. I'm learning how to handle it. Day. By. Day. I am not disciplinarian by nature...and when I am, I find it hard to live with that part of myself. So I have read plenty of books about how to parent a "challenging, willful" child without having to evoke the disciplinarian within me. After all, I still need to feel good about who I am while helping him become the best that he can be (wow...didn't that sound cliche and trite?)...yet it's true.

The behavior that I feel pressure to "squash," is almost always expressions of joy or exuberant excitement. Sometimes it's also expressions of frustration, but in either case, I just don't want to squash it because of social pressure and expectations. The only time I feel like I should really do this, is when Max hurts or intimidates another child.

When my little guy squeals out of happiness in a restaurant...and everyone is looking at me sideways to "shut him up"...I can't help but feel uncomfortable and inclined to quiet him down. But while I make attempts, I feel like a traitor.

I think we come into this world as pure as we can be. And over time, we learn to suppress our authentic selves. I don't really mind that it happens well into our adult years. It just kills me to be teaching these things to a 3 year old. All in the name of "social adjustment."

When it comes to raising my son, I hope for the courage to take the road less traveled. I hope for the courage to forge a path for others to follow. I find no bravery or integrity in taking the the well worn road.

No Problem

I do my best to teach Max a few manners. He says "thank you" and "please" with the frequency I would expect of a 3 year old. I consider him to be better than average, when it comes to mastery of these social niceties. I'm not obsessed, like some mothers are. I would not stand there with my boy, pushing the issue until he says it. If he doesn't, I shrug it off...he's still learning. I don't even say it 100% of the time myself. Still, I'm surprised at how often I must be using manners, because he sort of picked it up naturally, without a lot of attention drawn to it.

Well, with that said, I'm a casual kind of girl. I grew up in Southern California where we use a lot of casual slang. I guess it shouldn't surprise me that Max is learning Scott's and my language. Yet it did surprise me, yesterday, when I dropped my phone and Max picked it up and handed it back to me...I said "Thank you!" He said "No problem!"

It's Not that I Quit Blogging

I've been putting all of my computer time into finishing off my latest "blog book." There is a really cool company called Heritage Makers that has some really great book making features. After I accumulate enough blog entries, I turn it into one of these books. It's a professionally bound, hard, glossy covered book that will last forever...unlike this blog. So someday, when Max is much older, he'll be able to preserve some of his history...at least from his mother's perspective.

Meanwhile, Max has turned 3 and I have much to say about that.

Poor Morgan

Morgan was conceived of carefully, speculated, thought. Her breed was specifically chosen because of her good natured temperament and reputation for being good with children. She is half Golden Retriever and half Yellow Labrador. As if casting a spell to the winds, we spoke of her place in our home. This was to be our future son or daughter's dog. We were not even pregnant with Max yet.

One day an old girlfriend of mine called me up and asked me if I wanted one of her pups. Of course, it was exactly the dog we had summoned. So came Morgan into the world.

Morgan was about a year and a half when Max was born. She was very tentative around him, always gentle. As Max grew, he was able to touch Morgan and delighted in the feel of her fur. He giggled when she licked him. He snuggled with her and used her as a backrest while he drank from his bottle and a bond was forged.

Now that Max is older, in the absence of other siblings, Morgan has become Max's primary playmate and constant companion, second only to me. The two of them play together, like two bear cubs. They wrestle, growl, tackle, chase and explore the backyard together. They hunt for lizards as a team. Morgan runs around to the gate and barks at passersby and Max barks at them too.

Max grabs hold of Morgan's collar and drags her all around the house and yard. He gets quite frustrated when she breaks free from his controlling hold on her, as Morgan is much stronger than Max. He complains to me and he yells at her. One of their favorite pastimes is playing with the hose. Morgan barks and jumps at the water and Max makes sure that Morgan is soaked. Both of them squeal like little piggies, having so much fun. Sometimes Max convinces Morgan to step into one of his playhouses, where he quickly shows his true nature, trapping her and locking her in. She takes it all in stride.

The downside of all this is that Morgan has taken quite a bit of toddler abuse. She has weathered being attacked by anything remotely resembling a sword...sticks, brooms, stakes, kitchen utensils, hair brushes and actual toy swords. Morgan can definitely hold her own when they're wrestling around on the floor. She gets ahold of Max with her mouth and shows him a thing or two, but always gently soft-mouthing. She's also pretty good at pinning him down. Teaching Max that it's not okay to hit the doggie is something I'm tasked with on a daily basis. It's not easy to differentiate between the kind of rough, reciprocal play they BOTH enjoy so well and a smack to the head or back. Poor Morgan.

The Best Day

Max and I had the best day. We got up in the morning and snuggled on the sofa while we watched a couple of cartoons. Then we played with some playdough, using the pasta roller to flatten it. We went outside, onto the front porch, next and watered the garden. Max accidentally sprayed himself in the face which made us both laugh. Then we ate some leftover pizza for breakfast.

In the afternoon we packed up the car and headed for the beach. We made sandcastles and played on the swings. Max yelled out "I SANDCASTLE!!" and "I SWINGING!!" We surrounded our castles with army men and when we were done, we squashed them to the ground. We sang our ABC's and made up some songs in the car, on the way home. We stopped for dinner at Macaroni Grill, where we drew all the animals we could think of on the paper tablecloth. We ate spaghetti noodles, one by one, letting them drop into our mouths and sucking them the rest of the way in.

When we got home, we were so tired from our long day, that we both just laid down on the bed and fell asleep, snuggled like two little bears.

Every day that I spend with Max is the best day. I am grateful to my husband for providing me the opportunity to spend my days this way. This is the greatest gift of my life.

What Kind of Mother Am I?

I was talking to one of my "mommy" friends recently, who was telling me about the progress she had made in regards to bedtime with her daughter. It seems that she found a really helpful book, that helped to wean her daughter from needing to be rocked to sleep.

Later that night, while watching Max toss and turn, before finally falling asleep...in the bed that we all share, I realized how long it had been since I'd been able to rock him to sleep. And I got a knot in the pit of my stomache. A lump in my throat. And I longed for the days when I could rock him to sleep. I would rock that kid to sleep until he turned 15, if he would have it.

So today, I sat in the rocker (which is in our office). I tried to entice Max to joining me, but he was excited to sit at the chair, at the desk, which is normally off limits to him, since that is the chair that faces the computer. Well, I put a Mickey Mouse learning DVD in for him and let him have at it. He was more able to use the "mouse," which is actually a trackball, than I've seen so far. He had a blast. I sat and rocked and watched him for about 45 minutes.

Right now, as I write this, he is sleeping. I'm going to move the rocker back into our bedroom tomorrow. I'm going to see if I can rock him to sleep some night soon. I wonder what kind of a mother I am, trying to recapture the kind of behavior that other moms mark their success in ending.

There are Limits

Yes, there are limits to just how far one will go, as a parent, to console and comfort one's dear, sweet child. I have certainly reached mine.

I should, first, mention that Max does not care for wearing clothing these days. He will inevitably take off whatever he is wearing, most particularly his diaper. Since we are in the throws of potty-training and it's summer, it's really no big deal. Until today.

Max fell onto one of his toys and started crying. He crawled up onto the sofa, where I was sitting, as I asked him where he was hurt. While he proceeded to get onto his hands and knees, facing away from me, he told me "here" as he pointed to his bottom. I said "poor baby" and gave a gentle pat on the rump. Again, he pointed and with more urgency in his voice he said "HERE!" I asked "what do you want me to do?," as I sit there with his lil' pooper staring right at me. He says "KISS IT!"

This was one of those moments when I wished my husband had been there with me. I flashed on the expression that would have been on his face. I'm sure the expression on my own face was worthy of a Kodak moment.

All I could do was make a kissing sound and purse my fingers together and give a little pat with them. No questions were asked. Max popped right back up, healed of his injury, as only a mommy's (or daddy's) kiss can do. I had reached my limit. Kissing boo-boos is my job, my pleasure even...just not there.

I am the Lucky One

Down by the lake, in your three year old rock kitchen,

you made me breakfast; scrambled eggs, toast, sausage.
We both cup hot coffee in our hands,
taking imaginary sips.
I am the lucky one.

Hide and seek with the spiders, bread for ducks.
We watch the lapping water,
unnoticed, from between our crevassed hiding places,
while others pass quickly by on their way to "real" jobs.
I am the lucky one.

Autumn, the time of your birth, reminds me,

"This day shall not be your burden, but your delight."

I don't know where I'm going

or where I'll be when you're grown, but right now,

I am the lucky one.

We go to the city; stop for a treat...chips and slurpies.

Mine go down quickly, thoughtlessly,

while I delight in your company.

Salty fingers and red mouth, you're in no hurry.

Shoppers smile at your good-natured ways.

I am the lucky one.

A day of errands, I need a book.
No one notices, amused, as I do,
how you sit in the window ledge, warmed by the sun
among much older readers in the bookseller's shop.
Your face holds the same serious expression as theirs
while you read a ghostly tale, upside down.
I am the lucky one.

Errands finished, we're back outside.

Silently, we bend forward.

Watching the birds among the rose bushes,

you learn about rose hips, thorns,

and bird's preferences for crumbs

rather than bagel chunks.

Hurried passersby pause, your joy in the ordinary,

contagious, as you balance on stone benches.

I am the lucky one.

The day is done. I tiptoe to your room.

Tucking you in, I kiss your sleeping face
and whisper thanks for the day.
To my own bed I trod, feeling gratitude to God
and wondering why
I am the lucky one.

by Michelle Tobin

Beautiful Day

I took Max to the Huntington yesterday, where I had not been in years and he has never been. It was so beautiful and peaceful. I want to go back again soon.

They have a new children's garden that I had never seen. There were so many "hands on" things for Max to explore. There were fountains of all shapes and sizes and the kids were allowed to stick their hands in and touch them. There was a misting area and another area where there was fog. There was a kind of musical instrument where you pick up a handful of rocks and drop them through it and it made the most beautiful sound...like musical rain.

There was a rainbow tunnel that showed rainbows inside of it by breaking up sunlight with prisms. There were mounds to climb and paths to follow and a very cute little tea room, all covered in vines. It was a very nice addition.

We also went into the tropical rainforest exhibit and Max kept saying "animal jungle," which is what he calls the Rainforest Cafe...his favorite restaurant.

Then we had some lunch while Max chased "yucky bees" (which is worthy of a separate blog entry). Afterwards, we went for a walk to look at the Japanese Garden. It was gorgeous. This photo is standing at the top of the stairway that leads down into the garden.After that, and a poopie diaper, we strolled over to a lovely shaded area, under a giant weeping tree, where I laid out a blanket. Max collected sticks and I laid on my back looking up through the tree. I could have fallen asleep. After trying to entice me to, yet another sword fight, we played catch with a ball I brought and then ran through some sprinklers. When that got old, as things quickly do when you are only 3, we played with some small animal figurines.

Our day was so relaxing and full of beauty, that I didn't even mind the two hour drive, sitting in traffic, to get back home.

Cowboy Max

This is the second time that Max ever rode a horse. The first time happened while Scott and I had been sleeping off a 13 hour drive to New Mexico. We were told that he went from being completely afraid of that horse to being very upset at having to get off of the horse, all within about 10 or 15 minutes.

This time, as Max got on the horse, there wasn't a moment of hesitation. He loved every second of it. He had his own little hand motion to say "keep going, go faster." You can see him use it in this clip. Nicole, the girl in the photo, is a cousin. She put Max up on a horse with her and rode around for quite awhile. Max giggled when she would guide the horse to make abrupt turns.

Once again, there were tears when it was time to dismount. I think I may look into horseback riding lessons for him near our house in a year or two.

The other little boy in the video is Max's cousin Joey. Max called him "cowboy" before coining the name "Captain Cowboy" for him.

No Way Man!

I wish I could remember what these poncho'ish pullovers were called. Remember these from the 70's? They had a hood and in the front, a pocket that went from one side to the other? They were really popular with surfers where I grew up, in Santa Monica. Max's grandmother "Nana" got this one for him. It's Old Navy. I love it so much. I just wish I could get my hands on one for myself.

I suppose with his pullover and his puka shells and that long scraggly hair, he does look like a little kid from the 70's.

Not only that, but several weeks ago, out of the blue, Max said "cool!" I stopped in my tracks, wondering where he had heard that from. Max's dad finally claimed it. This morning, I asked Max to get out of the pool and he said, "no way man!"...hmmm...where did THAT one come from? Me? Then, later today, I was talking to him and I said "dude!!" and he looked at me and he said "dude!!" Busted!!! Too weird.

Bubba Lips

This is Max sleeping. These are his bubba lips. That's what we call them when he falls asleep. His whole face relaxes and his lips get really pouty.

Mommy, Daddy, Pig

A couple of days ago, Max and I had caught the ending of The Wizard of Oz on television. The characters caught his eye and so we started to watch the rest of the movie, one that had been a much anticipated part of my own childhood. Following that, another movie called Spirited Away came on. It was touted as having a similar plot, whereas the main character finds herself in another world with magical beings. They also said it was the first anime movie to ever win an Academy Award. So we started to watch it.

Then the phone rang.

Blabbing away, I quit paying attention to what was on the television. Bad mistake. Suddenly, Max runs over to me in tears, wimpering, 'speaking in tongues' and the only words I can pick out are "mommy," "daddy" and "scared." I had no idea what had scared him. By that time, the main character was sitting waterside and not much was going on. I picked him up and tried to comfort him with some milk and a snuggle in bed. For the rest of the evening he was clearly bothered.

After he fell asleep, I went back and rewound the cartoon (gotta love tivo) to just before the scene where he became noticabley upset. Well, it was awful. The mommy and daddy had been turned into hideous looking pigs, stuffing their faces at a resaraunt where they were being whipped by some black ghostlike beings. The little girl who had returned to where she left her mommy and daddy, screamed when they turned around and she saw what they had been turned into. Then those black, ghostly figures started chasing her.

Poor, poor Max. I felt awful. In such a short time I had failed to protect him from some really scary stuff. The kind of stuff that nightmares are made of. What struck me most was the look of fear on his face. I had never seen this look on him before.

The next day he seemed fine. It never came up. Then, this morning, upon waking, Max says, "mommy, daddy, pig." He was whining a bit. Did he have a nightmare? Was it simply on his mind again? Is he going to be scarred now? Ugh!!!! I told him that mommy's and daddy's NEVER turn into pigs and it was all just pretend. I don't know if he understood any of that, but it's all I can do for damage control. That, and make sure I don't let him watch anything I'm not giving my full attention to.

Ortega Highway

Ortega highway is a 40-something mile winding road that goes through the Cleveland National Forest. It separates the Inland Empire from Orange County. "Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go..." and so it is that we travel this road, as a direct route from our house to my mother's house.

If I am not the person in the drivers seat, I will get carsick; sometimes mildly and other times much worse. Either way, it's inevitable. Our family dog, who does not have the option of driving, also gets sick from this ride. So, when she needs veterinary attention, as my dad is her veterinarian, I must take a longer, alternative route. Or she throws up along the way.

I have also known, for quite some time, that Max also gets carsick on this route. One time he threw up right after we exited the highway, well before we made it home. Another time he made it all the way to our driveway before tossing his cookies all over himself and the car. And yet another time he simply gurgled his baby belly contents up and out while we were stuck in construction traffic on that darned road, with just a few miles to go. There was also a time when I realized he was not going to konk-out, so I actually pulled off at "Hell's Kitchen," which is a biker bar and restaurant. Max and I sat by ourselves on the back porch having a soda. It was just what he needed, I guess, because he didn't throw up that time.

Fortunately, he normally sleeps during this drive. It's long and boring for him and the powerful hum of the truck is the equivalent of 'slipping him a mickey.' Unfortunately, there are those few times when he does not fall asleep. Tonight was one of those nights. I was actually feeling hopeful that he might be outgrowing the carsickness. We made it home and I got him out of the truck and put him in bed. He was awake, but seemed sleepy. Just as I set him down on the bed, the one with the freshly laundered sheets and comforter...well, you get the picture. As I write this I am listening to the second wash cycle for the comforter.

My husband says the worst part about washing something that's been thrown up on, is that all the chunks, even though they come out clean, are still present. I actually plucked all the chunks off of the comforter before throwing it in the washing machine. Poor Max, he had steak for dinner and lots of it, not to mention the macaroni & cheese, sauteed mushrooms and some salad...blech!!!

So the bedding went into the washing machine and Max went into the tub. Both are going to be cleaned and put right back onto the bed. Maybe next time I'll bring a little Benadryl for the ride over.

You WISH I Had a Picture for This

So, today I am having a fabulous lunch with my fabulous parents at a fabulous winery. Of course my fabulous son is with us. We are seated at a table under the Wisteria covered gazebo, enjoying our chicken/salmon/mahi mahi salads. Max is eating buttered spaghetti noodles. He's not just eating the noodles, but also running around the grounds, chasing birds and having fun. He's not eating the noodles while he sits in a chair at the table with us. He's shoving down handfuls in between chasing the birds around. So he is eating like some kind of caveman. All of a sudden he starts shoving his finger up his nose and saying "nose!" He is shoving that finger all the way up to his second little knuckle. He is scrunching up his whole face and whimpering. He rubs his hands on his face and he is clearly in a lot of discomfort. I think that he may have gotten some pepper in his nose. I tilt his head back and look, but nothing. I put my mouth over his nose and blow, thinking maybe something is stuck, but nothing. Max sneezes and nothing. I sit back down, thinking that whatever is bothering him, it will soon stop. My mom takes over. She tries blowing in his nose too, but has the same result. Then, all of a sudden, Max sneezes again. This time there is a little piece of spaghetti sticking out of his nose and my mom pulls on it, revealing a 3 inch strand that comes out. I get little shivers just thinking about it. Gross!!! Truly a missed Kodak moment. We start laughing and Max just runs off, after another bird, like nothing ever happened.

Krinken

Krinken was a little child,—
It was summer when he smiled.
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the child heard not the sea,
Calling, yearning evermore
For the summer on the shore.

Krinken on the beach one day
Saw a maiden Nis at play;
On the pebbly beach she played
In the summer Krinken made.
Fair, and very fair, was she,
Just a little child was he.

"Krinken," said the maiden Nis,
"Let me have a little kiss,
Just a kiss, and go with me
To the summer-lands that be
Down within the silver sea.

"Krinken was a little child—
By the maiden Nis beguiled,
Hand in hand with her went he,
And 'twas summer in the sea.
And the hoary sea and grim
To its bosom folded him—
Clasped and kissed the little form,
And the ocean's heart was warm.

Now the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,—
Winter where that little child
Made sweet summer when he smiled;
Though 'tis summer on the sea
Where with maiden Nis went he,—
Summer, summer evermore,—
It is winter on the shore,
Winter, winter evermore.

Of the summer on the deep
Come sweet visions in my sleep:
His fair face lifts from the sea,
His dear voice calls out to me,—
These my dreams of summer be.

Krinken was a little child,
By the maiden Nis beguiled;
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Reached its longing arms to him,
Crying, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,—
Winter, cold and dark and wild.

Krinken was a little child,—
It was summer when he smiled;
Down he went into the sea,
And the winter bides with me.
Just a little child was he.

Eugene Fields

"Sit Down...NOW!!!"

Max has learned the power of issuing an order. He delivers it with the finesse of a military drill seargant. He points, furiously, to the spot where your compliance must be surrendered. Before you can react, he as re-issued the order. Not just once, but twice and even three times more. He is amused and thrilled with the command of his own voice. He is not just loud, but deep and gravelly.

The order comes when he wants you to play with a few of his toys or read a book with him. It's cute. He's too young for any malintent. He just wants your company.

I, on the other hand, was the first to issue such a command. It usually came after several unsuccessful attempts in persuading Max to sit down for some occasion, such as eating. It was delivered with much impatience.

Max is the mirror which holds my image. Sometimes the feedback I get is immediate and other times it must sink in. I shall have to work on my own finesse, patience, kindness and overall delivery.

"I GOT IT!!"

Max has been poking his finger in his bottom and checking it. It's really bugging me. I don't know how many times a day I have to wipe off his fingers. There's bacteria there. Even if it's "clean." You can get diseases from injesting that bacteria. I am so grossed out by this and he won't stop. Anyway, tonight, before bed and after our shower, he was doing it again. I shook my head and said "Max. Get your finger out of there please." He pulled out his finger, held it up in the air and shouted "I GOT IT!!!" Well, whatever it was, now that's he's found it, I just hope he quits looking for it. Boys!

Who Says You Can't Use Desitin as Hand & Body Lotion?

I cannot count the number of times in a day that Max manages to make a huge mess or get into some mischief. I feel like a slapstick fire-fighter running around with my hose all day, putting out "fires." While I took a phone call this morning, he managed to drag an end table to our kitchen counter so that he could climb up to it. Once he got up there, he knocked all the mail onto the floor and dropped a package of chocolate covered almonds. Well, the dogs ate the chocolate and if you know anything about dogs and chocolate, you know that it's a very bad thing. So I called my dad's veterinary clinic and got instructions to induce vomiting. After pouring peroxide down both dogs throats, I waited for them to throw up, outside. Only Fred, the mini dachsund actually threw up, thank goodness, because he is a very small dog. Anyway, even though Morgan never tossed her cookies (or chocolates in this case), they are both alive and kicking and have survived. Max filled the empty chocolate package with some Cheetos he found up there and took them into the bedroom, where my husband was sleeping. Then he got his little, cheesy fingers all over our 420 thread count, white sheets. Later in the day, in no particular order, Max also managed the following:

• Brought dirt clods into the house that he retrieved while going in and out of the doggy-door.
• Pulled out a bunch of my dvds (through the slotted cabinet) and opened them up, removing all the dvds and got gooey handprints all over them.
• Took his diaper off and got poop all over the place while trying to wipe himself with the wipes.
• Squeezed AstroGlide, yes, the lube (I use it to make taking his temperature the old fashioned way a little easier when he's really sick-it's way better than vaseline) all over the carpet in his bedroom.
• Poured sand in the dog's water bowl.
• Knocked a whole bowl of macaroni & cheese onto the carpet.
• Drew with a crayon on the monitor.

So in the big-picture-scheme-of-things...using Desitin as a body lotion just isn't a big deal.

Some Progress...and a Few Setbacks

Well, our 14 year old Dachsund peed on the tile floor again tonight. I was busy doing laundy and he never gave me any signs. The good news is that when Max saw it on the floor, he actually walked around it instead of splashing around in it like it was a puddle from a spring rain.

Two days ago I was playing outside with Max when I received an anticipated phone call from my doctor's office. I was on the phone for about 8 minutes. During that time, Max climbed the retaining wall and went back into the "forbidden zone" to confiscate the poop scoopers. I was actually smiling when I saw that he had picked up some of little Fred's poops and had put them in the scooper quite nicely. Then suddenly, as things things always seem to occur, and while I'm still smiling, he reaches down and picks one up and tries to taste it. Well, I started screaming, shrieking or whatever you want to call my panicked shouts of "NOOOOOOOO!!! PUT THAT DOWN!!!! YUCKY!!!!!," as I ran to him and quickly removed him from the scene. We rushed into the bathroom to wash hands and I rinsed out his mouth and wiped it off. I wished I had some mouthwash or something. Blech!!!

I guess that's why this blog is called "poop in hand." Maybe I should change it to "poop in mouth."

Our First Fight

I've recently experienced my first fight with Max. We were gardening in the front yard when some visitors of our next door neighbor showed up...with children. Max doesn't understand that he can't just join any ole' family, just because they have kids. So as he tried to follow them, I had to retrieve him. He was not happy at all. Because he would not stay nearby and kept trying to take off after them, I told him he was having a little "bedroom time." Bringing him indoors proved to be an unforgivable sin, in his eyes. I put him in his room and I could hear him screaming, crying and chewing me out the whole time. After several minutes I asked him if he was ready to come out and he yelled back at me, "no mommy, go way!!!"" and continued to chew me out. He was ranting and raving and although I could not decipher his words, I was quite attuned to their meaning. I asked several more times and he answered the same way. I had never seen him react so strongly before. I sat outside his bedroom door, waiting for him to quiet down and let me know he was ready to come out. I tried to open the door, but from the other side he was shutting it on me. He's a strong boy, so I couldn't get in easily. I knew his bedroom blinds were open, so I went outside and looked into his room, smiling and waving. When he saw me, he instantly burst into tears again and chewed me out some more. It was horrible. After a little more cooling down time, I forced my way into his room and started reading books. He softened up a bit and came over to look at the pages as I turned them. I tried to hug him, but he pushed me away, clearly still mad. At that point I left his room and prepared some macaroni and cheese for him. After he ate, all seemed well again. Max has very recently been exercising his right to say "no." He has his own ideas about what he wants to do now and doesn't hesitate to let me know they're not the same as mine. It's strange to see such a young little man with arms crossed, head hung low and scowling with a big fat pouty lip. I better hang on tight, I'm sure it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Max's Diet

These are things that Max currently likes to eat:

• Pirate Booty
• Nilla Wafers
• Pizza
• Mac n Cheese
• Pickles
• Scrambled Eggs
• Soy Sausage
• Cookies
• Cottage Cheese
• Goldfish Crackers
• Chips
• Avocado
• French Fries
• Cheese
• Toast
• Bananas
• Ice Cream
• Salad
• Quiche
• Chicken Legs
• Spaghetti
• Popcorn
• Steak
• Cereal

When I look at this list, I'm shocked at how much of it's junk food. He's been a very finicky eater for quite a while now. He used to eat sweet potatos, broccoli and cream of wheat along with all kinds of healthy things. When he was a baby I would mix mangos, bananas and yogurt with wheat germ. I tried to get him to eat healthy as he became a toddler, but I was just so happy to see him consuming calories of any kind, that I didn't care that he was developing a taste for junk food. A lot of his little friends eat junk food and quite frankly I'm surprised at how often it's dished up to little minds and bodies that need real nourishment. Well, now that I've seen this on paper, I'm going to put effort back into trying to get him to eat things that are healthier for him. Me too, for that matter.

The Worst Mother in the World

I know that we all feel like the worst mother in the world every once in a while. I certainly felt like it this morning, when through clenched teeth I uttered, "you're pissing me off," to my wildly active two year old. I was trying to do something I almost never do, put some makeup on. I was standing in front of the mirrored closet door. He was banging on the doors, making them shake and bow. He was yelling out loud, nothing in particular. I moved from one of the doors to the other and he began banging on that one as well.

Some days I feel like I do nothing more than do battle with an opponent with whom I'm no match for. I get so worn down from the constant confrontation and exertion of wills, both his and mine. Motherhood is not for the faint of heart. I never knew how much mental and emotional energy would be required of me.

The pay off for all of this is worth it though. There are times when he says "tank ewe momma" (thank you mamma), a phrase I recognize more by it's tone than it's content. Other times when he gives me an unsolicited hug and sighs "awwwww," while he pats my back.

What I really need is an energy drink that works and to bite my tongue, rather than express how "pissed off" I am.

The Loudest Fart I Ever Heard

Came from the smallest, sweetest butt I ever saw.

Tears in Heaven

Yesterday, I was watching 20/20 and they had an interview with Eric Clapton's deceased son's mother. It was the first she had done. They had also shown some video clips of him. I think it's been 12 or 15 years, something like that. Anyway, I can't stop thinking about it. I can't get his face out of my mind. I can't get Eric Clapton's song out of my mind. This child was one of the most beautiful children I've ever seen. I can't stop thinking about the horror that his mother must have felt at that moment. My stomach has been knotted up all day. I get choked up. Something like that changes you forever. To know about that story is bad enough, but to see the footage of that boy and how special he was...the loss was unfathomable. I never want lose sight of how blessed I am to have Max in my life and be a part of his. I never want to forget to appreciate him each and every single hour of every day.

He's Making That Face

He's making that face that I hate. His father makes it. I'm told his grandfather makes it. I hate this face. I can't think of a dummer look than when your tongue is sticking out and up, as if you're trying to touch your nose with it. I'm hoping that this is really nothing more than a coincidence. He's just licking the cake off of his lips. Well, this was taken at his second birthday party. I've been remiss in writing because I've been feeling literarily (is that a word?) uninspired...not to be confused with feeling uninspired about my boy, which I never am. These past two years have been the greatest gift of my life. I could ooze and gush all the love I feel for this child and it would never come close to doing justice. I hope that Max knows how deeply he's loved.

Mad Fashion Sense

This is what happens when Max dresses himself. What you're looking at is Max's ensemble of blue and purple baseball cap (on backwards), glittery, purple, cat-eye sunglasses, white Nikes (on the right feet), puka shell necklace and a pajama top (worn as a skirt).

Would you like Ketchup with that?

I usually have to sneak away to get on the computer to check my email. Today was no different. I really think I'm smooth when I get away with it and actually have 5 or 10 minutes to take my time. I should have mistrusted the silence. Should have known something was going on. In my ignorant state of denial and self-indulgence, I should have listened to my inner voice that said..."Max is up to something!"

So, when he finally approached me from behind, as I sat at the desk, I suggested he go play with the doggie, without looking at him. He was asking me to read a book to him. Then he shoved it in my lap. I felt it and smelled it before I actually saw it. It was covered with ketchup. Then I looked at Max. He was covered in ketchup. I scooped him up and took him to the bathroom to wash him off. Then I recon'd the rest of the house...first discovering the ketchup mural on the wall. Then I located the ketchup smeared all over the coffee table. Then the sofa. Thank god for Oxyclean. It got all the ketchup stains out. So next time someone asks me "would you like ketchup with that?"...it's going to be an emphatic "NO!"

The Family Bed

Max is sleeping in the other room. He's surrounded by his stuffed animals. He still sleeps like a little stink bug, on his stomach, with his knees tucked under him and his little butt up in the air. Before he fell asleep, he was staring at the ceiling, chattering away, having the kind of conversation that toddlers have with themselves, sounding quite serious. He looked over at me before nodding out and smiled, then closed his eyes. I'm satisfied knowing that Max's experience of bedtime is secure, with me at his side. I've never regretted the decision for him to share our bed. I've always felt that it was the right thing for us to do.

All This...and That's Just Monday

My max likes to climb on other people's furniture. He likes to climb on my furniture too. He spits his food out if he doesn't like it. He squeezes the juice out of his juice box, onto the floor. He pokes, prods, pushes and pulls at other children. He screams as loud as he can because he likes the sound. He pulls my hair and hits me in the face. He jumps on the bed. He dumps the dog's food and water onto the floor. He turns all the televisions in the house on at the same time. He pulls his diaper off and gets poop on the carpet. He turns the hot water faucet on, in the tub. He dumps his breakfast onto the floor. He empties the contents of drawers out. He squeezes lotion and shampoo onto the carpet. He smears handprints all over the closet-door mirror. He leaves toys all over the house. He bangs on the piano keys with all kinds of objects. He hits the dog on the head with his maracca. He pushes the buttons on the televisions until there is no picture and way too much sound. He has tantrums when he can't have his way, sometimes. He arches his back and kicks when I pick him up to change his diaper. He splashes all the bath water onto the carpet. All this...and that's just Monday.

Wonder and Amazement

Max is mesmerized by the discovery of a rooster at the petting zoo.

Secure with his Manhood.

While watching Max play with some other children at a party today, I learned the following things:

If you take something away from him, he'll hit you.
If you have something he wants, he will take it, and he may still hit you.
If there is a light sabre or baseball bat in the room, he will find it and bash you with it.
His scream is louder than most.
Chalk tastes good.
Sand must be redistributed from the sandbox to other parts of the yard.
He is secure enough with his manhood to play with dolls.
Sometimes he laughs insincerely and it sounds very phoney.
He likes to be where the action is.
Eating Doritos can give you a clown-ish mouth, resembling the Joker from Batman.
Breaking for milk is a must, but food is a waste of time.

How to Eat a Popsicle - by Max

1. Make sure to choose a very hot day for maximum meltability.
2. Have mommy get popsicle and unwrap.
3. Grab popsicle by frozen part and not the stick.
4. Drop popsicle after being startled by the cold.
5. Yell loudly, as mommy retrieves popsicle, to let her know you want it back.
6. Grab popsicle by frozen part and not the stick.
7. Taste popsicle.
8. Drop popsicle after being startled by the cold.
9. Yell loudly, as mommy retrieves popsicle, to let her know you want it back.
10. Grab popsicle by stick this time.
11. Taste popsicle.
12. Say "mmmmmm" out loud, so mommy knows you like it.
13. Wave popsicle in front of doggie, so doggie knows you like it.
14. Rub popsicle all over face while eating.
15. Rub melted juice all over chest as it drips.
16. Watch closely as drips hit the ground.
17. Drag popsicle on the ground.
18. Protest loudly, as mommy takes it away, to let her know you want it back.
19. Grab newly rinsed popsicle by stick.
20. Give mommy a lick.
21. Rub popsicle all over mommy's face.
22. Insist mommy have another lick.
23. Give doggie a lick.
24. Break popsicle in half.
25. Rub broken piece into cement.
26. Pick remainder off of ground to finish eating.
27. Protest loudly, as mommy rinses you off.

I'd Like to Get a Little Cooperation-Part 2

I try cleaning the kitchen, but he gets ahold of the dish soap and squeezes it out all over the floor. I forget that the dog food and water are still on the floor where he can get to them. He puts handfuls of dogfood in the water, making a gravy, before dumping it all over the floor. I make a note to myself that I must clean the floor at some point today. Meanwhile, I sop up the soap and the gravy.

I get a whiff of that familiar stench that reminds me it's time for another diaper change. I pick him up to carry him off, but he arches his back and I feel the unmistakable twinge of the tendonitis which plagues me. I silently and sarcastically thank him for the gift of tennis elbows (both) he's bestowed upon me. I lay him down on the changing table and he whines. He doesn't like being layed down. I place the new, clean diaper under him as I prepare to remove the dirty one. I ready myself with wipes. I never win this race, but I always try. I pull the tabs with one hand as I hold his legs up with the other. I pull the diaper away and move it to the side, quickly grabbing for the wipes and, as usual, before I make my first wipe, he's stuck his hand in it. Now I'm trying to hold his legs and wipe his hands. Ugh. Eventually, he's clean with a fresh diaper and we're good to go.

Lunch is served. He gets a 2 chicken legs and some corn, with a small serving of chocolate pudding. I feel guilty, momentarily, that I'm feeding him a frozen meal. Then the feeling's gone. I pick him up to put him in his high chair and he starts kicking his dangling legs. He thinks it's funny that I can't position his legs into the chair while he's doing this. I get him in, I ask him to sit down. He doesn't. I pull his legs from under him and he's sitting. He picks at his food and tosses one of the chicken legs to our dog. The dog wolfs it down before I can retrieve it. He fiddles with his food, eating very little, wearing most of it. At least the chocolate pudding. I turn on the television for him and he watches while he picks at his food until he falls asleep in his chair...ah, reprieve...
(to be continued)